Author's Note:

Dear Readers,

Before you get worried over me starting another book while I'm still working on The Friend Shop, don't worry. This book is already written and just undergoing some editing before I post. The Friend Shop shouldn't suffer from this new book.

This is a co-authored book by myself and casuallllfollower (four "l's"). She has an account on here (GO FOLLOW HER) and an account under the same name on Wattpad. She will be posting our story on her account on Wattpad in case y'all see it and wonder. It made sense for us to split up the work. We decided that, since she's posting Harry Potter fanfiction, it might be best for me to post it on here.

Now, I won't hold y'all up any longer and we shall launch into the story!

sarahandmarquis

P.S. I will be responding to reviews like I am with The Friend Shop. So, please review and let me know what you think!

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Hilarious Commentary between writers: (Real convos we've had together)

Me: This is weird though but I feel like this fanfic is like a child we raised together, growing him and pointing him in the way he should go. Now he's entering the tough years of high-school, then, it's graduation time. Graduation into the world of fanfiction where he will be loved by others.

Me: Okay, so apparently my brain is weird all the time.

Her: I LOVE IT: I AGREE

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Disclaimer: I do not own the Robert Englund version of the Phantom of the Opera or of the Phantom of the Opera in general. Casuallllfollower and I together own Poppy (don't mess with her) and this story idea.

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CHAPTER 1

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"Rick! Rick! Where are you?" A pretty young woman, pink red hair bouncing on her shoulders, called as she took the steps into the basement of the music library two at time. Waving her hand in front of her face to move the dust from her nose, she poked through the book-filled aisles, calling repeatedly for her brother among the stacks of old documents, stretching on for what seemed like miles.

Finally, from somewhere in the depths of the archives, a young man's voice replied with a quip,

"I only want to see you if you brought Christine with you, Poppy! I have something for her!" Poppy laughed, following his voice through the hazy air until she found him, seated behind a desk with stacks of books walling the grown man in from both sides,

"Yeah, she was just behind me on the stairs coming down. She should be here momentarily. What did you find?" She asked, leaning down on the only part of the dark wood desk visible.

"Music," his snarky reply came, a knowing smile on a cleanly-shaved face. Poppy rolled her eyes and peered at the sheets of music messily spread out in front of him.

"I know that. What kind of music? Something unique?"

"Something classical…" His voice trailed off, and his steely blue eyes peered past her in a sort of haze.

There was a huff, and Christine appeared beside Poppy.

"Did I hear classical?"

"Yes, you did." He handed her the sheet of yellowed music. "It's all I could find but it looked like something you'd enjoy."

Her eyes darted over the piece until her soft and lulling voice began to hum the melody, a look of passion mixed with surprise written across Christine's features.

"It's perfect… is there more?"

"That's it. That's all I could find. They were squished between two books." Rick replied, looking through some books that surrounded him, a particular one in mind. "I had to go through a dozen books to even find a footnote on the composer."

"Where then? Let's go look!" Christine muttered excitedly, "But first, who is the composer?"

"Erik Destler." After finding the source he searched for, Rick skimmed through a book and began to read the footnote he had referred to, "'Known primarily for his unfinished Opera Don Juan Triumphant, Destler's musical reputation is overshadowed by his infamy. He was said to be obsessed with a young opera singer who disappeared without a trace the night of Destler's death. Authorities believe but were never able to prove that the composer was a psychopathic killer responsible for the brutal murders of at least a dozen London residents.'" At the mention of the side job of psychopathic killer, Poppy inclined her head to listen more intently.

"It's so gentle, are you sure it was written by this Erik Destler? If you're pulling my leg, babe, it isn't funny!" Christine said with a bit of giggle as she didn't think him serious. The piece was the closest to a lullaby she'd ever sung, and Rick had always had the ability to fashion odd stories.

"Well, his name is at the top." Poppy inserted, peering over her friend's shoulder. "And…" She took the book from Rick's hands, inspecting it for credibility. "This book seems reliable. I wouldn't think that too many composers of that era would have the same name."

"Well aren't you snarky today," Christine jested, and then turned away from her friend, "I think we should go looking for the rest if my lovely Poppy said it's real."

"You trust her, but not me when it comes to his story?" Rick wondered with evident sarcasm, ignoring the smirks on both his girlfriend and sister's faces.

"Of course she does!" Poppy replied. "Where did you find the original piece so we know where to begin looking for the rest?"

"Right over there, girls, have all the fun you want, but it's almost eleven right now," Rick reminded them with genuine concern after consulting his wristwatch.

"We'll be fine," Christine insisted, pulling her friend towards the dust-covered aisle Rick had so helpfully indicated.

After nearly thirty minutes of poking between dusty books, sneezing with each plume of dust, and growing desperate as they weren't finding anything, Poppy reached up, running her hands over the top bookshelf and her fingers brushed against a small folder. When she pulled it down, the burnt pages seemed to fall to pieces in her fingers.

"Christine! I think I found something…"

Christine set down her own pile of books that were all as disappointingly misleading as the last and looked back at Poppy, her strawberry blonde hair draping over an antiquated book.

"Now that looks promising… probably better than the junk I've been pulling." Stepping off her small stool, Christine stood next to a rather engulfed Poppy.

"I agree there." Poppy replied still, opening the folder and grinning. "'Don Juan Triumphant, by Erik Destler.'" She read before passing it, carefully, down to Christine. "Seems we have found the rest of the piece. I wonder when it got so damaged…"

"I don't think I care! The whole thing is beautiful, Poppy!" Christine hummed, then quite literally began to hum out the piece, absorbed instantly into the music.

After listening to Christine hum for a moment, Poppy began to poke around down some of the other aisles for some more music books, curious if she could find more information on the composer. But, after examining multiple indexes of a plethora of history books on composers, she soon decided it would take several days to look through all the books in the archives to find anything worth value. Poppy therefore abandoned her pursuit.

"It's certainly a beautiful piece. It'll work great for the audition since it's not particularly fresh but it is unique."

Christine made to reply to her friend, but something was off in her surroundings. Poppy had only been gone a few minutes, but the brunette soprano could have sworn she'd seen… blood? It had been on her hands and seeping through the notes…

"Uh… Unique, yes. You will be playing for me, right Poppy? I would be nothing without a good accompanist!" She was able to mask whatever it was that had happened, but her friend eyed her skeptically. But, after she didn't appear to be forthcoming with what was wrong, she responded and put away her skepticism.

"If you picked anyone else to be your accompanist, I'd be jealous. Of course I'll play. Let's make some copies of this so I can practice the music and you can learn the words."

"Then maybe Rick won't yell at us, heaven knows he wants to keep me 'safe.' Whatever that means!" Christine said in a unanimous giggle with Poppy.

"Are you girls ready yet?"

"Speak of the devil." Christine whispered with a grin.

"Yes, we're ready, Rick. We need to make copies of this but we're done." Poppy waved the folder at her brother and grinned, marching away towards the copier. "You better start locking up. We'll be done in several minutes."

"Several?" Rick said aghast after her, "I guess I will take my time locking up then."

Christine just smiled as he walked away, but he did not do so before stealing a kiss when his sister's back was turned, her hearing the tell-tale peck but ignoring it. Avoiding looking at the lovey-dovey pair, she scampered up the stairs to the copier room and began to carefully make copies of the music, handling each paper carefully to avoid losing anything. Corners broke off multiple times and the burned parts quickly tumbled to the floor but the main part of the music was never harmed.

Poppy glanced over the notes, exotic and different beyond what she was used to playing, but that's what would make Christine sound great! Poppy knew her friend would have done that anyway, but a little help never bothered anyone.

When all of the papers were copied, two copies fresh in her hand and the original safely tucked within the folder under her arm, she returned to her friend and brother who had reunited. Although she was feeling rather sad to separate from the music, Poppy handed a single replica over to Christine.

"Would you like to keep that for a while, Poppy?" Her brother asked quickly, seeing the way she eyed the folder.

"I'd say she does! Just make sure you're ready for my audition tomorrow, alright?" Christine made sure to mention, taking Poppy by the hand and looking at her with a pleading visage.

"I'll be ready." Poppy said. "You be ready too. It's not long to practice a piece of music. And, this is unique music." She held the folder carefully in her hands. "We'll get together tomorrow morning, just before the audition to practice together."

"Sounds good! Which means…" Christine drawled and turned to Rick, "I'm going to my place tonight, I'll see you after the audition tomorrow!" She gave the man no time to reply and bounced from the building, excited for the day to come.

As it was already late, Rick let Poppy out of the building, then closed the final door, bidding his sister a good night, playfully upset with her that she'd caused him to have an absent Christine.

Poppy laughed at his playfulness and returned to her small apartment. Once inside with the heater on, she set the music on the piano's stand and began to practice measure by measure. Time passed quickly as the music sucked her into it's beauty and otherworldliness, but time was of no matter when such beauty was placed on decaying paper with a heavy intent to be played.

Lithe fingers from her practice as a doctor made everything easier when it came to playing pieces nowadays, for she used to play, but never this well. When the clock chimed three in the morning, though, Poppy took to a hope that maybe she could get a little sleep, at least. She closed the score and left it on the piano for the morning. Maybe it would help her uncover something about the composer!

Slowly, Poppy moved through the halls and changed into pajamas, doing her nightly routine before settling into her soft covers with a hesitant glance over to the music on her nightstand. She couldn't bare to part with any of it. There was just something about the way the music spoke to her, the way everything came together, and the passion that crawled over every page of the composer's work. He must have been a genius, no matter what he'd done to the human world, Erik Destler was a magnificent musician.

One that intrigued Poppy beyond her belief, one that she had need to know more of. What little she knew was enough for tomorrow's audition, but for her insatiable curiosity? Maybe in the morning, a little research before performance time might do her wandering thoughts some good, for she just had to know more.

Contenting herself with such a decision, Poppy turned off her light and relaxed, soon falling asleep.