A/N: Okay, so I know I said I was writing a Teddy/Victoire, and I was. . . but then I heard a rumor going around school that we were going to be doing Phantom next fall as our big musical, and I went and watched the movie, and read some fanfictions and was introduced to the wonderful world of Meg/Erik.

So here we go (: Oh, and sorry to say this, but for now, let's consider Mindy's Neverland on hiatus. I need to figure out where I'm going with it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom. If I did, Meg would have a bigger role throughout it.

Our Dearest O.G.,

We in the young ballet chorus are quite disappointed in the absence of a prank in recent months. You haven't even made a letter with demands for YOUR opera come out. We anxiously await your next prank, and on account of all of us, do hope that in involves something to do with our dear prima donna in training, Mademoiselle Carlotta. We are sure that you agree when we say she sounds like a cow.

We will be waiting during all rehearsals.

Your Humblest Servants,

The Ballet Rats

(Written by M.G.)

Marguerite Giry signed off the letter in her precise cursive handwriting, and then passed it around for the rest of the young girls to read. They shared glances of nervousness and fear, but excitement was hidden there as well. Marguerite herself, better known as Meg to all but her mother, sat proudly on her small bed. She was no more than eight years old herself, and easily the smallest of all the girls. Her mother, Antoinette Giry was the ballet mistress, and taught them all. If she were to walk in now and see them writing such a letter, they would all be in dire trouble. No person messed with the Opera Ghost in Madame Giry's sight.

The letter eventually made it's way back to the petite blonde, along with a look from one of the other girls, Genevieve.

"You shouldn't have signed your initials at the end Meg. . . " She said fearfully.

"And why ever not? Do you think that he shall find me? I'm sure he has much more important things in his brilliant head than me writing a note."

"Meg, are you sure that you will be able to deliver this without anyone finding out?" one of the other girls spoke out.

"Yes I am sure. You all seem to forget that I have been wandering this theater since I could walk. I know my way around." And with that, the young girl tucked the letter under her mattress, and began to finger-comb through her long blonde hair. "I shall deliver it tonight."

The girls all went back to their normal evening activities of brushing and braiding each other's hair, setting out their things for tomorrow's practices, praying, and then never ending gossip. Meg continued to finger comb her own hair, and then pulled it into a long blonde braid down her back, tying it off with a pale blue ribbon. She took her nightgown and was on her way to the bathroom to change, when her mother walked into the dormitory. Immediately all the girls stood and made a low curtsy, saying "Bonjour Madame Giry". Meg did this as well, as it was an accustomed sign of respect, but it was always rather strange for her to call her own mother 'Madame'.

The ballet mistress gave all the girls a small nod, and they went back to what they were doing. She walked to her daughter, and motioned for her to follow. Meg put her nightgown back onto the bed, and went with her mother out of the room.

"Maman. . . what is it? Is something wrong?" The young girl looked at her mother, worry written on her face.

"Non, ma petite fille." Madame Giry looked down to her daughter. "The bed on the right side of yours in not in occupancy, correct?"

"No mama." Meg shook her head, her braid switching it's resting spot as she did so. Antoinette led her daughter into her office. Meg looked inquisitively at her mother once more, before her eyes fell onto a girl who looked about her age, with a heaping mass of brown girls, and deep brown eyes. She seemed to be almost the opposite of Meg herself. She was sitting in one of the plush chairs opposite her mother's desk, and turned around when she heard the door open. Almost immediately this new girl scrambled out of the chair, and Meg saw that she was a few inches taller than herself.

"Marguerite, this is Christine Daae." Her mother started, motioning to the girl. "Her father has recently died, and she has come to stay here. She will begin rehearsing with the rest of you tomorrow. You girls will make her feel welcome, understood?" Something about her voice made Meg know that this was serious, and she gave a slight nod. Her mother than looked at Christine, "Marguerite will take you to the dormitories now. Just follow along with the rest of the girls, and you will be fine." Christine gave a small nod, and then looked at Meg.

Meg offered a small smile, and the motioned for the door. Before leaving, she gave her mother one last look. "Bonne nuit maman" she said, and then went into the hall with Christine. The brunette had two small bags with her, and Meg offered to carry one.

"My mother calls me Marguerite, but everyone else calls me Meg." She stated simply, trying to induce conversation. "Do you have a name that others call you?" Christine shook her head. "Oh. . ." Meg said, looking down before making another statement. "I'm eight. How old are you?" She looked to Christine again, she had to speak to answer this question.

"I'm seven." She said in a small, timid voice.

"Have you ever danced before?" A small shake of the head. "Oh. . . well, I'm sure you'll be fine. Have you had any musical instruction?" A nod. "Maybe you'll be a singer instead! That would be grand, don't you think?" A shrug. Meg gave up at this point. No matter what her mother said, it was hard to make a girl whom didn't speak feel welcome. Thankfully, they were close to the dormitories, and only had to endure a moment of silence before Meg opened the door.

At once, everyone was silent. It took a few moments, and then Genevieve spoke up. "What did your mother want Meg?"

Meg looked around, and then back to Christine. "This is Christine Daae." She announced plainly. "She will be staying here from now on." And with that, she led Christine to the back, where her bed was, and placed the bag she was carrying on the one to the right. "That's your bed." She said, looking at the younger girl. "If you would like to change for bed, there are private bathrooms back there." She pointed ahead of her. Christine gave a small nod, and began removing things from her bag, still silent. Meg gave a look of giving up, and then went to put her nightgown on.

When she returned to the room, everyone seemed to be settling down, and laying in their beds. She went back to her own bed, and took her doll, Felicity, in her arms. Her mother had given her Felicity for her eighth birthday; she was from America. Meg adored her doll, and the bright auburn hair on top of her head. Her face was porcelain and rosy, and she wore a light purple ballet dress. On her feet were a pair of purple toe shoes, and her hair was half pulled back with an ivory ribbon.

Meg lie down and waited for everyone's breathing to become deep. One by one, each of the girls fell asleep. She even fought with herself as sleep threatened to take over her body. But no. She would lie awake and wait.

And then the perfect time came. She slowly lowered her blankets and sheets, slipping her small feet into her ballet slippers. (Not her new toe shoes, for those were much more unpractical. Instead, she used her old, simple leather shoes.) She reached under her mattress and took the letter. Rising back up, Meg took the candle near her bedside, and carefully made her way out of the room, being extremely silent as she did so.

Once she reached the hallway, she was able to go onto demi-pointe and reach a torch to light her own candle, and return it to the holder. She kept it guarded with her opposite hand, and walked on silently through the opera house that she knew only too well.

She decided to take the long way, the one that would lead her onto the stage, and then wrap around to Box Five, where she knew the Opera Ghost would find his letter.

If only she knew that someone was already in the theater, perhaps she would have taken the other way. But she didn't know, so she continued on her way.

A/N: Ahhh. I don't like the ending, but I was feeling that the chapter was getting too long. Anyway, review please?

Translations:

Non, ma petite fille : No, my little girl.

Bonne nuit maman : Good night mom.