Hi everyone and welcome to me new story! I'm a huge fan of Phantom of the Opera. I do not own any of it. The Phantom of the Opera belongs to Andrew Webber and Gaston Leroux and any other people connected to the work. This is purely for fun that I'm writing.

However, there is some differance between my and ht e movie's timeline. The Ball in the movie was held for the New Year so at the beginging of January or so and then when you add on a moth or soo of reharesing the opera, I put the prefoamce sometime in early March. Also because this is historical fiction(kind of) I moved the date back a year to 1870 since the Franco-Prussian War began that year and in1871 it would be impossible for the opera to have the ball since the city of Paris fell in October 1870. Anyway, there are just some of the histical context of the story (there will be more.)

This idea just came to me and I hope you enjoy it. All chapter titles will be some song lyrics or titles. Oh and a huge thanks to my BETAer Honeyphan whose story semi inspired me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this begining.

Someone was shaking her, calling out her name. She blinked as reality came back into focus. She felt something wet wrapped around her legs as she was pulled further away from the pond's edge. Frigid evening air swirled around her as she looked into the blue eyes of her fiancé, Raoul de'Changy. His eyes, filled with concern, glintted in the moonlight.

"Christine, what are you doing out here?"His voice shook.

Christine blinked again, looking down at her reflection on the dark water surface. Her curls were unkempt as if she had awoken from her bed. The hem of her white nightgown was soaked, transparent, exposing her pale skin beneath. Confused, she continued to stare at the water. She felt something being draped over her shoulders for warmth, recognizing Raoul's jacket. Cautiously, he placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him.

"What were you doing out here, Christine?" Raoul asked gently.

Christine looked away from him, staring across the open fields beyond the pond of the de'Changy country estate.

"I heard him…my teacher. He was out here." Her voice was a whisper, but it seemed to echo in the silence of the night.

Raoul held her tightly. "Christine….why were you going to go into the lake?"

"I…don't know."

She closed her eyes as Raoul muttered her name, bringing her into a protective embrace. "Christine, shh, it's all right. Christine, Christine…."

"Christine… Mademoiselle Daae! Please pay attention," a shrill female voice called over to the young brunette.

Christine blinked and glanced over at the older woman, the Comtesse de'Changy, standing near the hearth in the sitting room. A shiver ran down her spine as she tried to push away the memory of the night by the pond.

Was it only six days ago? She asked herself, glancing out the window. The early afternoon sun streamed in from the large windows. Despite the arrival of spring, a fire burned in the hearth; its warmth spreading around the entire room. A few books were stacked upon a table while some discarded needlework lay on an empty chair. Massive portraits of the noble de'Changy ancestors hung on the walls; their eyes seemed fixed upon the soon to Vicomtesse; all of them waiting for her to make a mistake.

She bowed in head in embarrassment, she said, "Oh, pardon me, Madame. I was merely…."

Her voice trailed off into a yawn. A blush crept onto her cheeks as the Countess stared at her. The Comtesse's sharp, fierce blue eyes bore into Christine as the older woman moved and sat down across the table. Gracefully, the Comtesse spread her large navy blue skirt around the chair then folded her hands neatly onto her lap. She nodded and said, "Surely you must know it is impolite to yawn when someone is speaking to you. Have you not been getting enough sleep?"

Christine hesitated. "…Oui, Madame, I'm sorry. It won't…will not happen again." She corrected her speech as she stifled another yawn.

"See that it does not. I can only hope I can teach you something. Now, what is the proper way for a hostess to behave?"

Christine paused as she tried to recall the answer. She could not remember a time when she had ever held the title of a hostess. The atmosphere of all the parties or events most of her life had been informal. Yet, the high nobility was very prim and proper in all events even when a single guest came to call.

Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and said, "As the hostess one must make certain the guests are comfortable. In addition one must be considerate of the guests and provide them with what they may need."

Opening her eyes, she waited. Seconds ticked by and she felt her heart begin to beat hard against her chest, but she dared not lower her eyes in defeat.

The Comtesse stared at her before a tiny smile curled at the corners of her lips. She gave a short nod. "That was fine, my dear. I believe that will be all for right now, but remember we have the Baron's dinner party this evening."

Christine bit back a sigh of annoyance and nodded. "Yes, of course, Madame, I…."

Once more, her voice trailed off. The older woman had already begun to resume her work set upon the table: a list of wedding invitations for all the nobility of France. Taking it as her cue to leave, Christine stood and slipped out into the silent corridor.

Oil lamps lit the long hallways as the scullery maids swept and dusted for the high standards of their mistress and the family. The chaos of the staff reminded her of her old life at the opera house before an opening performance. Each person too involved in their own tasks to notice anything else. Sighing in relief, that the lessons in being a Vicomtesse had temporarily ended, she quietly slipped through the passageways, her feet automatically following a familiar route.

At the bottom of the staircase, she paused and looked up and down the silent corridor. The freshly lit lamps and sunlight cast a gold vibrancy along the walls. Closing her eyes, she could remember her first descent into the fifth cellar beneath the Opera House. A tiny half hearted smile slid onto her face as she continued down the corridor, her lips mouthing the words of her first aria in front of the nobility of Paris. That night she had felt the music; it had filled her soul with its complex, but sweet melody. Gradually, her voice began to float down the passageway.

Think of me

Think of me fondly

When we've said goodbye

Remember me once in a while

Please promise me you'll try

Her voice trailed off as she caught a glimpse of her reflection in a mirror. Light powder and rouge covered her face, yet she could make out the dark circles beneath her eyes. A wary smile crept onto her face as she stared at her reflection. She remembered staring at herself reflected in the pond's surface with Raoul by her side about a week ago. Since then she had barely been able to sleep. A shiver crawled down her spine as she pushed the memory away. Taking a deep breath, she turned from the mirror, grabbed her cloak, and slipped out a side door.

The July air swirled around her as she walked through the garden of the estate. She welcomed the quietness and the sanctuary. Flowerbeds filled the area: lilies, tulips were in full bloom, but the roses had recently begun to bud. She loved looking at the new buds waiting to blossom. Over the past months, she had come to love the garden as her escape, from the prying and disdainful eyes of the French nobility during evening events. All the duties of a soon to be Vicomtesse filled her afternoons with her soon to be mother and sister in-laws. Shaking her head, Christine sighed and settled herself onto a bench; her dark green skirt spread gracefully across the gray stone seat. She stared down at the flowers, a small smile curled at the corners of her lips.

"Has it only been five months that I have been here?" she whispered to herself. Unconsciously, her eyes lowered to her lap; the white gold engagement ring sparkled in the sunlight encasing its beauty. Raoul had given it to her a week after the famous disaster at the Opera Populaire. When they had first gotten engaged she had worn the ring on a necklace, fearful of people finding out. Yet, Raoul insisted she wear the ring properly upon her finger as a symbol of their love.

Love…what do I know about love? She asked herself, wringing her hands together. She barely saw Raoul besides meals, evening events, or just passing in the halls. He promised that would all change once they wed, but the fact did not comfort her.

Heavy footsteps brought her attention back to reality. Glancing up, she spotted one of the old gardeners entering from the rear gate. The middle aged man smiled and removed his hat as he bowed to her. "Ah, Bonjour Mademoiselle Daae. I hope you are well today?"

Christine blushed. "Oh yes, Monsieur." She paused and looked down at the rosebuds near her feet. "You have done well with keeping the flowers alive, but those sem to be late bloomers."

"Merci, but it is nature that allows flowers to live. I only nurture and help them along. Though I admit I love roses the best as you seem to do as well, Mademoiselle."

She nodded. "Oui, I do… love them a lot. Do you know when these buds will burst into bloom?"

The older man looked at her. "Forgive me, I'm not familiar with that phrase. I suspect they will bloom when they choose to do so."

Christine bit her lip and nodded again. "Of course."

"Well I must get back to work. Good day, Mademoiselle," the gardener said and bowed, before walking away to tend to his duties.

She watched him move further down the path as a blush again crept into her cheeks. Where had that phrase come from? It was an unusual choice of words, yet they caused her heart to beat faster. Once more, she shook her head, tightening the grip on her cloak as the chilly wind swept through the garden. The call of a bluebird caught her attention as the small creature settled on the ground near her feet. His large eyes stared up at her and he began to chirp a small tune. She smiled and began to hum a small tune herself, a Swedish lullaby from her childhood.

"I thought I would find you here," a voice said from behind her.

Startled, she turned and saw Raoul walking toward her. He wore his riding outfit: a white shirt beneath a blue jacket, brown pants, and black boots. Removing his gloves, he walked over and sat beside her on the bench.

"Did you enjoy your ride?" Christine asked, placing her hand over his.

"Oh it was wonderful. I always feel better after a run with Champion. I admit I prefer the country over the hustle and bustle of the city." He turned to her and smiled. "So what has my Little Lotte been doing today?"

"Spending time with your…." She yawned. "I'm sorry. I was…talking to your mother."

"Ah of course. Well I hope you two are getting along…." He paused as she yawned again. Concern flickered through his eyes as he looked at her. "Christine, is something wrong?"

Christine shook her head. "It's nothing, Raoul, truly. I just have not been getting enough sleep."

Raoul chuckled. "Are my mother's lessons so exhausting?"

"No of course not, Raoul. I just cannot fall asleep at night. I lie awake in the dark listening…."

Raoul's eyebrows furrowed. "Listening for what?"

Christine snuggled against him as he wrapped his arms around her protectively. Her voice was a whisper, but it seemed to echo in the silent garden. "The music of the night, I cannot sleep without it."

Raoul pulled away and stared into her deep brown eyes. "What do you mean? Christine is it happening again?"

"No, Raoul, not since the last time."

"Perhaps we should call a doctor."

"I'm fine, Raoul, really. There isn't any need for you to worry about me. Now other than riding what have you been doing today?"

Raoul sighed and reluctantly began to discuss his day. She leaned against him in contentment. Listening to him allowed her to escape the pressures of her impending role if only for a few minutes. He spoke of business with other nobles and the stress of keeping the estate in order while his father attended to other important issues elsewhere.

"And with the trade my father does with Spain…." He paused and looked down at his dozing fiancée. "Little Lottie…Christine, are you certain you are all right? Perhaps you should go inside and rest before this evening's party."

Christine stirred a little and looked up at him. "Hm…perhaps you're right, Raoul. Though I do believe I have another meeting with your sister in a few minutes. I would not want to upset her."

Raoul cupped her cheek in his hand. "Do not worry about it, my love. The most important thing for you to do is rest. After all, the Baron is known to have lively and long parties."

Christine chuckled lightly and nodded. Over the last few months, she had grown used to the long evenings of endless parties. The elegant woman gossiped over one scandal or another while the men spoke of business and politics. Each nobleman had their own reputation within the social ranks; and this particular Baron was known for his exciting and late parties, which never seemed to end. Yet, at times she wished to have a simple night alone with her fiancé without all the hushed whispers that surrounded them during one of the social gatherings.

Taking a deep breath, she looked at Raoul and asked, "Do you ever get tired of these parties?"

Raoul paused, thoughtfully. "I suppose at times, but getting together with these families is part of my life." He winked at her. "Soon to be our life."

Hesitantly, she nodded and yawned.

"Come let us get you to bed," Raoul said, standing up and holding out his hand to her.

She accepted it. "Merci, Raoul, but I believe your mother will want another session before tonight's events."

"I will speak to my sister and mother on that subject. Now you must get some sleep in your bed," He said.

Christine smiled faintly. "You know what Little Lottie loved about sleeping in her bed is the angel of Music singing-"

"Christine, that is not funny!" Raoul said, pulling away and staring down at her sternly. "I will not hear about that demon here. You know the police are still looking for that monster and when they catch him he will pay his crimes. Please not mention him or the opera again, do you understand me? Both of them are no longer a part of our lives."

"I…was only teasing you."

Raoul's eyes narrowed.

She took a deep breath and stared at him. "I understand, Raoul."

He sighed and brought her into a gentle embrace. Automatically, she felt her hands sliding around his back, returning the gesture. Yet, she did not feel the usual comfort from her childhood sweetheart. He was rigid at the simple mention of her angel. To him her angel would only be the Phantom of the Opera, a killer who must be caught and brought to justice.

Sighing, she pulled out of his embrace. "I'm sorry Raoul. I was truly just teasing you."

"Don't think about it, Little Lottie." He paused and took a deep breath. "Everything is all right now. We are safe from his spell." He forced a nervous smile. Wrapping his arm around her, he led her back inside, away from the garden.

XxX

Candlelight flickered across the long white table cloth. Dishes were filled with delicious food while polite conversation filled the dining room. Many of the nobility were present catching up with old friends or spreading the latest scandal one woman had heard from a friend's acquaintance. Christine sat quietly amidst the conversation, aware of all the eyes watching her between bites or over their goblets. Out of corner of her eye, she noticed Raoul speaking with the Baron, perhaps discussing some political matters. A smile formed on her face as she watched him, so comfortable among the society that judged her for her past as a chorus girl at the opera. Yet, Raoul seemed to barely notice her

She blinked and looked at her companion on her right. "Pardon, what did you say, Monsieur?"

The man glanced at her. "Oh, forgive me, Mademoiselle, I only said that I have heard some rumors of a possibility of the Opera Populaire being rebuilt."

"Rebuilt?" Christine asked surprise evident in her voice.

Another woman shook her head. "That place is cursed, I tell you. How can they even think of rebuilding such a horrible place? Has everyone already forgotten about the great fire that destroyed it to begin with?"

"Of course not, but the Opera Populiare is…was one of the greatest buildings to ever be built. How can you deny that?" the man asked before taking a sip of brandy.

The woman glanced over at Christine. "Well, I'm certain Mademoiselle Daae would love to see the opera again, isn't that right, my dear?"

Christine froze. The question was most certainty a test to see where her values lay as either a soon to be Vicontesse or a poor ballet rat not worthy of dining with nobility. She could feel the eyes of those closest to her. She fought the urge to look at Raoul for her answer. Lifting her chin slightly, she looked at the woman. "It would be splendid to have the opera rebuilt…if only for people to be entertained. After all, operas are meant to transport the audience into another world."

The woman looked at her. "Well said. However, I do not see why you would like to see it rebuilt. After all, you were the reason for the dreadful event to occur in the first place. Is that not right?"

"I do not deny anything, but you cannot just leave a horrible memory there." She paused and took a deep breath. "…You must move on and what better way than to rebuild and reopen the opera house?" Christine said before taking a small bite of her meal.

The woman huffed and returned to another conversation with a woman on her left. Yet, the man beside Christine nodded in approval. "You are certainly right. It would be a shame to leave that place a pile of rocks. We must move on even when unfortunate things happen. You know my family used to be a patron of the opera?"

Christine shook her head. "No I didn't, Monsieur."

"Oh yes, but we had to stop after my father learned most of his money was being given to some unknown person….I believe the ballet girls called him, oh what was it? Oh yes, the Phantom of the Opera. The same man who destroyed the opera house all those months ago. I honestly hope they catch that madman."

Christine said nothing, but took another sip of her drink. The conversation continued around her, but she remained silent unless directly spoken too. She was too deep in thought about the news, even a simple rumor, that the opera house might be rebuilt. Was it possible? Her heart raced with both fear and happiness, but she kept her face as neutral as possible, following the example of the other women at the table.

Later in the parlor, the women sat around the fire, still lost in their gossip while the men had retired to the card room. Christine found herself seated away from the others. She knew Raoul wanted her to socialize with these women, but she could not find anything in common with them. Sighing, she leaned back in her chair and stared into the crackling fire.

"I wonder how the wedding plans going?" one of the women asked loudly.

Christine glanced over at the group. Turning her back to the fire, she said, "It is going quite well, thank you, Madame."

"And who is on your guest list? Surely you do not intend to invite those silly ballet girls," another one asked, smiling.

Christine felt her blood boil at the look on the woman's face. The ballet girls and the other Opera staff had been her family for the last ten years of her life after her father's death. Yet, the wedding list was not her job. According to the comtesse, her only job was to learn the social graces of high society.

Tugging at her gloves, she said, "Well I'm not at liberty to discuss the list."

The woman raised her eyebrows. "Oh really?"

"Now, Madame, leave the poor girl alone. Would you care to sing for us, Lady Juliet?" The Baron's wife said, sending an accusing glare to the older woman.

Christine sighed and watched as the other women took turns at the playing the piano and singing simple songs. She tried to not wince at some of the sounds that the women made while others had pretty little voices. At the end of each, they bowed and complimented each other despite some of the obvious distain for some. Once everyone had gone, the Baron's wife turned to Christine.

"Are you not going, Mademoiselle Daae? I understand you were trained in the arts," she said.

Christine hesitantly nodded. "Oui, I was, but it has been a while since I sang."

"Oh come now I insist," she walked over to the piano. "Now what would you like to sing?"

Christine paused, thoughtful. After a moment, she nodded and took a position near the piano. She named the piece and turned back to her small audience. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and waited for the music to begin. She felt the music surround her at the opening notes. Despite her exhaustion, she felt more awake as the music continued to play. At her cue, she began to sing; her voice soft and sweet before it crescendo into the second verse. Her voice echoed around the small parlor with properly trained experience.

Silence filled the room when she finished dipping into a small curtsy to her audience. Raising her head, she caught a sight of Raoul, a small smile on his face. She blushed and lowered her eyes, moving away from the piano.

After a moment, the Baron's wife began to clap and said, "Oh brava, Mademoiselle, I had no idea you could sing with such skill. You sound as though you could be a real opera singer, like La' Carlotta."

Christine blushed, but kept her eyes lowered. "Merci, Madame."

"Of course," another woman said. "But you must tell us where did you learn to sing like that?"

"My father and then my teacher," Christine said simply, suddenly tired. She stifled a yawn and said, "Though I have not seen my teacher for some time now I'm afraid."

"Oh, such a shame, I imagine he was a great tutor."

Christine nodded. "He was the best."

"Oh there you are my love," Raoul said, entering the room and walking over to fiancé. He smiled and turned to the Baron's wife. "I'm sorry, but I fear we must bid you a good evening, Madame."

The Baron's wife nodded. "Of course, Monsieur Vicomte. I will have Henri get your carriage ready."

Raoul nodded as the Baron's wife left the room for a moment. Turning to Christine, he said, "You were amazing, Christine."

Christine blushed. "Thank you."

It took only a few minutes for the carriage to be called. After thanking their hostess and the Baron they climbed inside and set off on the journey back to the estate. The wheels roll across the dirt paths at a steady pace; the carriage covered by the cover of night. Leaning back in the seat, Christine smiled at her fiancée across from her.

"That was quite a nice meal," Christine said softly.

Raoul nodded. "Yes, though there is only so much time I can spend with the Baron."

Christine chuckled. "I imagine." She paused and bit her lip. "Did you mean it, Raoul? About my singing? And I heard that the opera is being rebuilt."

"Yes, of course, Christine." Raoul's smile faded slightly. "However, you know that going back there is not a possibility."

"Why not?"

Raoul clenched his teeth. "That place is cursed and I will not put you in danger." He sighed. "Besides as a Vicomtesse it would be unseemly for you to perform. And I thought I told you not to mention him again."

Christine's eyebrows furrowed. "Why? I mean I know you asked it of me, but I only addressed him as my teacher and I cannot deny that he was-"

"He was not your teacher, Christine. He was only manipulating you to get what he wanted," Raoul said, raising his voice slightly.

"So the last ten years of my life has all been a lie?" Christine asked, frowning.

Raoul took a breath and sighed. "Christine, must we fight about this? I only meant that you must understand the phantom was a dangerous man."

Christine sighed and leaned back into the seat. There was no point in arguing. Taking a deep a breath, she changed the subject. "And may I invite Meg and Madame Giry to the wedding? It came up in the parlor earlier."

Raoul shrugged. "That is not my choice. It is all up to my mother and sister in those matters. Though I'm certain they should be able to come."

Christine nodded, tightening her grip on her cloak. A semi comfortable silence fell over the carriage with neither of them speaking. Every so often, she glanced over at Raoul, but he seemed deep in thought. Sighing, she turned her attention to the outside world as she stared up at the stars. Closing her eyes, she let her mind drift away from the evening events and the wedding preparations to one her oldest friends and prayed that Meg was well wherever she was.

Please review and constructive Critisim is always welcomed and let me know what you think and more coming soon. :)