Tempus Fugit DRARRY

Chapter 5: Of Sodomy and Psychoanalysis

The play was a great success but the audience was a disaster - Oscar Wilde

I go to the theatre to be entertained. I don't want to see rape, sodomy, incest and drug addiction. I can get all of that at home - Peter Cook

The curtain at the theatre rose with a swish of crimson velvet and an obliging murmur from the crowd. Draco felt a customary shiver of excitement as the drapes swept open to reveal an elaborately constructed set, built into the fashion of a Victorian London flat. He loved the theatre and the air of culture that it seemed to be swathed in. He had been going for as long as he could remember, sitting in the dark red seats in his family's private box, his eyes peeking over the gilt railings to where the actors stood on the stage far below.

Unlike the plebeians below, Draco didn't fidget or squirm with boredom, he absorbed every word that issued from the lips of Romeo, Salome, Banquo and Alceste, loving the way that sentences inked from a writer's mind made their way into the mouths of others. The perfect diction, the flawless command of language and the glittering cadence of the actors' voices formed worlds in Draco's mind where reality paved the way for pretence and art was created through deception and guile.

He had been spellbound from his very first outing and since then had learned to listen between the lines of script, deciphering the secrets of the writer from their characters. He watched the play as the writer intended, the myriad of realms opening out before him and offering him a night's freedom from the starched expectations of upper-class wizarding society. The theatre, somewhat incongruously, was the only place where Draco could cast aside the elaborate masks he forged around himself and watch someone else's attempt at pretence. It was a place of learning and thought, where wit was used like a foil to strip away the airs of the audience.

They had wonderful seats, right at the front of one of the side boxes, with no more than their four red velvet chairs in there. The theatre itself was gloriously old-fashioned, with gilt railings, faded vines stretching across the ceiling, and everything damasked in a deep crimson.

Next to him, Draco felt Harry shift, and tug uncomfortably at his collar. Draco could tell he hated being so dressed up, and was decidedly ill at ease. Privately, he thought Harry looked much better when he dressed smartly, and Draco had made him take a comb to his hair and try to tame it further.

On the other side of him, Hermione sat with Sean. She looked positively radiant tonight, dressed in a simple silk gown of midnight blue, with a simple chain of diamonds strung about her neck. Draco had even deigned to compliment her on her appearance and Hermione, who knew what an effort it must have cost him, had smiled winningly, her face glowing with pleasure.

She had many visual values, and more so than Sean, although he was handsome too, in his own way. A moment's consideration was all it took for Draco to understand that their match was one based on something more than a physical attraction. There was a noticeable empathy between them that stemmed from complete trust, love and devotion to each other. What Draco wouldn't give to have that one day. To have that strength of feeling for someone else.

With only a moment's hesitation he laid one hand fleetingly atop Harry's and felt him relax slightly by his side. They settled back in their chairs, eager for a night's culture. As the lights dimmed, and the first characters strode purposefully onto the stage, Draco felt content at last.

Some time later, the interval came in a storm of clapping and cheering. The curtain swung down, and the theatre was once more illuminated into life. The audience began to stir, taking advantage of the half hour they had to grab refreshment. Hermione leaned over and touched his arm.

"Sean and I are going to get a drink from the bar," she said. "We'll be back in a bit." Draco nodded.

"Ok," he said. He glanced at Harry who was looking over the balcony with a mild interest, watching the people move around beneath him. The flickering lights of the candles sent their gleaming echoes dancing across Harry's hair, striking a contrast against the jet. Draco watched as he played with a silver ring in his hands, a nervous gesture he had recently acquired, and wondered if Harry felt a bit out of place here.