Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Gaston Leroux, ALW or the Really Useful Group. I also do not own the poem quoted in the following story, which belongs to and was written by William Wordsworth. Please don't sue me,

Author's Notes: I submitted this story to the Spring Drabble Contest on MortRouge and guess what? It won first place and the Hemingway Special Award! You can imagine my surprise when I found out!

Dancing With The Daffodils

By Charites

It was the Queen of the Seasons, the most sparkling and joy-filled of them all. Flowers raised their heads to acknowledge it, when they had been wilted. Trees spread their leaves in canopies of green, in an attempt to add to its splendour. The earth was filled with grandeur, an incredible majesty that even the animals were unable to ignore.

Springtime.

It would have meant nothing to him, if she hadn't been there. What did earthly beauty have to do with those who only subtracted from it? No, he had better stay away from it, hidden underground, bundled away from humanity and nature, as he had always been. He didn't need to think on it. Out of sight, out of mind.

If only it hadn't been for her. The fairy of Spring dragged down to Winter's dark domain.

Her presence in his home had changed everything. Her scent, her light footsteps, her smile…so close to him, let fresh new possibilities emerge from his mind. A new awareness sprang up of the outside world.

Her warmth cracked the ice in him and thawed it. For the first time, his heart was devoid of the frosty barrier that had protected it for so long. It trembled, uncertain of its fate. His Winter had been conquered, but for him, Spring had not arrived. The fairy's delicate hand was yet to sow the seeds of love. Nothing grew…but the earth was not barren. Nothing bloomed, except hope.

So, despite his fear, his mistrust, he took her out to the Bois.

Nothing ever grew with fresh air, without sunshine.

Erik sat still, as if in a dream. The scent of the flowers, the warmth of the sunlight, the brush of the occasional breeze, everything that he had never known now surrounded him. He rode on a beam of light, floated in a cloud of perfume, was tossed like a feather on a breeze.

Beside him, Christine looked up at last. The veil of melancholy that had settled over her features in the past few days had lifted, revealing her fresh features once more, tinted her cheeks rose and lifted her lips in a smile. Her eyes looked past him, gazing on the rows of bright yellow flowers that danced merrily behind them.

"It reminds you of poetry, does it not?" she said softly, her voice losing the customary note of fear. Behind the mask, Erik couldn't help but smile. "Daffodils. Do you know that poem, Erik?" she continued in the same tone. For a moment, Erik was taken aback. She spoke to him as if he were…well…human!

"Yes," he said, made stiff by shock, "Yes, I know the poem." There was a brief silence that he chose not to break, silently cursing himself. Why did he have to be so goddamn awkward?

"My Papa taught it to me when I was very small," she ventured after a while, "When we went out together. Like this." It took Erik a while to absorb the impact of her words. Together. He had never considered the two of them to be 'together' before. The devil did not pair himself with the angels. As if she understood, Christine lifted her head and gave him a smile, shy smile.

Of course, it was nothing really. Just a smile, like the ones she gave to everyone. It would have been nothing to anyone else.

But in his heart, a small seed dropped down into the earth and buried itself there.

"And then my heart with pleasure fills…and dances with the daffodils…" he murmured, and the daffodils nodded their heads, as if agreeing with and encouraging him.

Author's Notes: Just one thing...I'm not sure whether this is the edited version which I submitted to the contest, or the first, unedited version. I THINK it's edited. I very much hope it's edited. If it's not...then sorry.

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