I'll Drink Your Deadly Poison

Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the Harry Potter characters or the Phantom of the Opera. If I did, you would know my name and I wouldn't have debts. :D

Harry opened his eyes slowly, the glow of the dressing room much brighter than the candlelit hovel of the Phantom's. He rubbed his hands against his eyes, hoping to shield some of the light until he could become accustomed to it once more. But instead he noticed something around his finger that shined in the lamp lights. Opening his eyes wider, Harry recognized the item to be a simple gold band, like those used in marriage.

At this thought, Harry shot up from the couch he was laying on, feeling slightly panicked. His mind raced through the events of last night and this morning, looking for an answer to why he was wearing a wedding ring. Harry made to pull it off, but when he touched the smooth surface of the band, he remembered that he was not to remove it.

Harry had asked the Phantom to bring him back to the surface, but the man refused. "If you had not seen my face, I would have let you, because I know you would have returned to see me. But now that your eyes have laid rest on my hideous form, I can't let you go!" Harry could see that the feigned ghost was sorrowful, because he had dropped down to kiss the hem of Harry's skirt. "I'm sorry, my love, but it is your own actions that has rendered your consequences."

Harry, having witnessed many sides of the man before him in a single night, realized that his dark captor meant no harm. "If I were to promise to return, will you let me go?"

The Phantom looked up at Harry, his black eyes seeming to trap Harry in a gaze that could betray his thoughts. Harry felt his breath stick in his throat as the Ghost continued to watch him, searching for any signs of lies. Harry finally broke eye contact, and the man sighed in distress.

"How can I believe you when you can't even look me in the face? If I let you go, you will run away from here and leave me all alone!"

Harry swallowed the uncomforting thoughts and knelt down beside him, taking the dark man's gloved hands in his own. "I promise that I will come to see you." To prove his point, Harry lightly touched the Phantom's cheek, which was almost nearly covered by his flawless mask. "I admit I was startled at first. But I will not run away. If you see me shiver, it will not be from fear, but from being in the presence of your musical genius."

The man met his eyes again, and this time Harry didn't look away. "All right," he said, sounding relieved by Harry's promise. "But before you return to the world above, I have something I want to give to you."

Jumping up from the ground, the dark man raced over to his organ and picked up a small, ornate box. He turned towards Harry, beckoning him to approach. Careful not to trip on his now dusty dress, Harry walked over to him. He opened the box, and Harry looked at him questioningly. Inside the antique box was a simple gold band.

"I don't understand," Harry stated, puzzled.

"To show me that you promise to return to see me, you must wear this. As long as it is on your finger, I know you are honoring your promise and you will be safe from harm." He took the ring out of the box and grasped Harry's left hand, pausing for a moment. "But if you take it off, I cannot protect you from the wrath of Hell." Harry couldn't tell if this was a threat, or a warning. He felt the cool metal slip onto his finger, and then the icy kiss of the Phantom's lips over his ringed finger.

And that was all Harry could remember. He looked around, noticing that the flowers from his performance were gone. Perhaps Hermione and Ron had moved them. Or Pansy had returned to steal what she though should have been hers.

The Phantom had kept his promise of returning Harry above ground. He stood up, his stomach growling with hunger. He took a step and realized that his wig was on the floor. Picking it up, he walked over to the vanity to try to pin it back up.

There was a knock at the door that sent Harry's heart up to his throat. He forced it back down before he answered, "Yes?" The door opened and he was relieved to see the familiar face of his dance instructor and her daughter. "Hermione!" he sighed.

Hermione rushed over to him, hugging him with as much strength as she could muster. "Where have you been?" she demanded, although not letting go of him.

"I…" Harry started, and then paused. How could he tell anyone about this? They were most certain not to believe him. And if they did, they wouldn't let him return, and it would cause Harry to break his promise.

McGonagall shut the door before approaching. She walked over to the couch where Harry had found himself when he awoke. She leaned over, picking up a sealed envelope, trimmed in black. Harry wondered how he had missed it.

"There's no need to explain," McGonagall said, opening the envelope. She skimmed it, and then tucked it into her dress pocket. "The Phantom has his ways. We shall not intervene. Come, Hermione," she beckoned. Hermione lingered for a moment beside Harry, and then approached her mother.

"Harry, you'll need to change. If you go to Hermione's dressing room, you'll find more than enough clothes."

They started to leave, and Harry jumped up to catch them. "Wait!" They both looked at him, and Harry suddenly felt nervous. "I need some help getting into the dress."

Hermione giggled, touching his arm sympathetically. "I'm sure mother will let me come help you."

"Certainly, but first we have to see the managers. Harry, you wait for us in her room."

Harry waited a little before shutting Pansy's dressing room door behind himself. The halls of the dressing rooms were empty, which meant that everyone was either at rehearsal or eating. Harry was relieved that there was no one around, since his reflection in the mirror was somewhat betraying of his identity. He paused for a moment when he heard a commotion behind him. Turning on his heels, he saw Pansy Parkinson herself come raging down the hall. She was followed by the new managers, who were followed by a group of people, including McGonagall, Hermione, Ron, and Draco Malfoy.

Thinking fast, Harry ducked down another passage, waiting to see where they planned to go. He heard the door to Pansy's dressing room open, and then their footsteps racing back towards the grand entryway. Checking to see if the coast was clear, he hurried down the corridor to Hermione's room, turning the corner and finding himself face to face with Draco Malfoy.

"Explain!" the blonde demanded, waving a piece of paper in Harry's face.

"Explain what?" Harry retorted, pushing it away. "You're the one who invaded my dressing room."

Draco's face was suddenly red; whether it was from anger or embarrassment, Harry wasn't sure. "Not that, you freak! This letter! You sent it, I know it."

Harry snatched the paper from Draco. "I didn't send you any letter. Why would I?" He read the letter, looking at Malfoy questioningly. "Why do you think I would send it?"

"Cause you're the only one who knows I know who you are," he replied shortly, clearly humiliated.

Harry looked at him, puzzled. "I don't even know what you just said!"

Draco snatched the letter back away from Harry angrily. It was with this motion that he noticed the ring on Harry's hand. "Did you run off and get married?" he asked, his angry tone starting to change to taunting.

Harry grew pale. "No!" Thinking quickly, he continued, "Mister Lupin told me last night to wear one to ward off any perverts who might try to make a pass at me." He glared at Draco.

"Told you last night?" Draco asked. "Nobody's seen you in five days!"

Harry's jaw dropped instantly. How could he have been gone for five days? "I meant the night of the performance." Turning to get away before he found himself trapped in a conversation he didn't want to have, Harry started to run down the hall. He didn't get very far because Draco took a few strides as well and grabbed Harry's arm tightly. "Let go of me!"

"Not until I know why I got this discriminating letter!" Draco demanded, waving the crumpled paper once more in Harry's direction.

Harry sighed agitatedly. "If you really want to know, go ask the Opera Ghost." He tried to wiggle out of Draco's grasp but it was too tight. "The only one who would have seen us together the night of the performance would have to be a ghost."

Draco growled, tightening his hold and making Harry wince. "You are still a freak, aren't you? Masquerading as a woman and believing in fantasy. Did your father raise you to be a woman?"

Harry scowled at his childhood nemesis. "I'd rather be a woman than a coward like you!"

Draco's eyes widened in confusion. "What do you mean by that?"

"I still see you're doing everything your father tells you to do," Harry replied, finally pulling his arm free. "For once, I'd like to see you do something that's your own decision."

Harry waited to see if Draco would retort, but he only stood there, glaring at Harry. Shaking his head, Harry turned once more and ran off for Hermione's dressing room. He didn't hear any footsteps following him, and decided that Draco must have given up for the time being.

Harry shut the door behind him, remembering to leave it unlocked so Hermione could help him. He opened the doors of her cabinet, sighing as he eyed her dresses. He had no idea what to pick. He would never take for granted all the trouble women went through to look lovely for men after this whole ordeal. Squeezing into dresses and walking in thin heeled shoes was rather painful after wearing them for awhile.

The door opened and closed quickly as Hermione slipped in. She smiled at a rather overwhelmed looking Harry. "Having trouble deciding?" she teased, walking over to him. "Don't worry; it looks like you won't have to be 'Harrietta' much longer. Pansy's back to claim her roles. She's terribly jealous of you." Looking in her bureau, she pulled out a forest green dress with black trim. "This will look good on you."

"Hermione," Harry said, grabbing her hand, "am I turning into a woman?"

Hermione let out an amused sort of laugh. "Heavens, no! I don't think so… Why do you ask?"

Harry sighed, sitting down in her vanity chair and looking at his reflection. "I don't know," he replied, pulling his wig off. "I don't know anymore." He dropped his head onto the table, thinking that maybe a good knock to his noggin would help to make things make sense. "What did you just say?" Harry asked, looking up at Hermione's reflection as he finally processed what his friend had said.

"This will look good on you?" she repeated, holding up the dress again.

Harry shook his head, sitting up and turning around. "No, not that. About Pansy."

"Oh! She came in today, upset about a letter the Phantom sent her."

"She received a note, too?" Harry questioned, thinking of the one Draco had accused him of writing.

"So did Mr. Black and Mr. Lupin. Mother gave them the note that was in Pansy's room with you when we found you earlier." She pointed towards the dress, hinting that he needed to change.

Harry stood up, approaching Hermione and turning his back towards her. As her fingers began to undo the buttons that lined his back, Harry continued to ask her questions. "Was it from the Phantom as well?"

"Yes. He wants you to play the lead in Il Moto, but the managers won't listen. They're begging her to continue as the star." Hermione untied the strings of his corset, and Harry felt like he was taking a deep breath for the first time in ages. "Go behind the screen and finish changing," Hermione said, and as Harry turned around, he noticed her cheeks were pink.

"What do you think Ron would say if he caught you undressing me?" he teased, stepping behind the screen and pushing the dress off of him.

"He'd probably babble in shock and confusion and then turn red," Hermione replied, unbuttoning her green dress for Harry.

"How much redder can he get?" Harry laughed, waiting for Hermione to hand him his change of clothes.

"Harry, can I ask you something?" Hermione asked after a long pause.

Harry peaked around the screen, spying a rather worried looking Hermione. "Yes?"

"Where does that tunnel behind the mirror lead to?" She asked this in almost a whisper, her eyes looking around as if she was afraid of being overheard.

Harry swallowed another nervous knot in his throat. "How did you know about that?" he whispered back.

Hermione came closer to him, standing on the other side of the screen. "Ron and I went to check on you the night you disappeared, and we found the mirror was slightly opened. We found a tunnel behind it, but Mother found us before we could venture further."

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. What would have happened if McGonagall hadn't stopped them? Would the Phantom have discovered them and let them free as he had done with Harry? "You don't want to know, Hermione."

Her eyes widened, whether from awe or fear. "It leads to the Phantom, doesn't it?" she asked him.

"Promise me you won't try to go there again," Harry said sternly, taking the dress from Hermione's hand and ducking back behind the screen.

"What happened to you down there, Harry?" Hermione asked, sounding concerned. "Did he hurt you?"

"No," Harry replied, slipping the dress over his head. "At least, I don't think so. Was I really gone for five days?"

"Yes!" Hermione gasped. "We were all worried sick for you. Did you not know it had been that long?"

Harry pulled the rest of the dress down and stepped out so Hermione could button it up. "It only felt like a night for me."

Hermione shrugged as she set to work fastening her dress on Harry, first tightening the corset once more. "Pansy is saying that you and Count Malfoy are lovers," she said casually, shocking Harry. He forgot to exhale while Hermione tightened the strings and he gasped for air. "Sorry!"

Harry coughed as she loosened his corset. "What makes her think that!"

Hermione laughed. "Many things. One prominent reason is because several people saw him follow you into Pansy's dressing room."

"Nothing happened," Harry interrupted forcefully.

"Don't worry, I believe you," Hermione smiled, finishing his buttons. "But if you don't want the rumors to spread more than they already have, you might want to take your wedding band off."

Harry looked down at the Phantom's ring, realizing how noticeable it was. "I can't," he sighed. "And don't ask: it's too complicated to explain."

Hermione patted his shoulder sympathetically. "As a friend, I'll respect your wish. But just remember that I'm always here to listen."

As Harry sat down at the vanity table once more to have his wig fixed on properly, Hermione filled him in on what had happened while he was gone. Apparently the newspaper reporters had arrived the morning after Harry's debut, but instead of interviewing the new diva, they wrote about Miss Porter's disappearance and why she had played the lead instead of Miss Parkinson. Mrs. Weasley, fearing that the Phantom was angry about his box seat being given to Count Malfoy, had abducted Harry for revenge. She called on her only daughter, Ginny, who was married to the son of the chief of police. Ginny had convinced her husband to talk to his father to see what he could do. But the managers had insisted that Miss Porter was just at home resting after her overwhelming debut. They didn't want the police around Hogwarts for fear that it would be bad for business.

As Harry turned around in the chair so that Hermione could redo his makeup, she continued to tell him what was going on. Dreamy Luna was convinced that the Angel of Music had been visiting Harry and that was why he could sing like he had. When Harry questioned about this angel, Hermione gave a brief explanation: "It's similar to a fairy tale, really. At least that's how Luna describes it. The Angel of Music blesses individuals he sees fit with talent that's unearthly." So far this seemed like the best explanation of what was happening. Harry briefly recalled the Phantom referring to himself as the Angel of Music. But this couldn't be, because he was a man beneath that ghostly disguise.

"Fred and George are saying nonsense," Hermione sighed, finishing her task. "They say you've run off with some man who's convinced you're a woman and then when he discovered your identity, he killed you."

Harry had to laugh at this. "What makes them think I would allow myself to be swept away by some man?" He stopped, suddenly realizing that was what had happened. Not only that, but the man had confessed his love to Harry. It was this love that had given Harry a second chance. But why?

"Excuse me, Hermione, but I need to see to something," he said, giving her a thankful kiss on her forehead.

"Harry, where are you going?" she called as Harry walked to the door.

"To get some questions answered."

Draco was shocked. How dare that freak speak to him like that! And yet, Draco hated to admit, he was right. Leaning against the nearby wall, he ran his hands through his hair in a frustrated manner. He never thought that all his life he was acting in fear of his father. Was he really a coward? He tried to think of something he had done under his own influence, but all he could come up with was wild nights that were spent to avoid going home to his father's house.

Growling at himself, he kicked the wall and straightened up, deciding to prove Harry wrong. The question was how. Before he could think of any answers, he heard footsteps coming towards him. With a quick glance around the corner, he saw none other than the young man who was haunting his thoughts at the moment. He turned around, ducking into the first room he came upon. He noticed right away that it was Pansy's dressing room. Draco listened and was surprised to hear the door handle click as it slowly opened. Thinking fast, he hid behind the screen, careful not to knock it over this time.

Watching from between the cracks of the frame, Draco saw Harry cautiously enter the room, as if checking to see if it were empty. Seeming satisfied, Harry shut the door behind him. The only sound in the room was the rustling of Harry's green dress and his breathing, as if he were scared yet excited. Draco wondered what he was spying on when Harry approached the giant mirror that hung on the wall. Harry felt all around the golden frame, his emerald eyes searching for something that Draco knew nothing of.

As Draco was starting to think that perhaps Harry was becoming vein as well as feminine, a dark voice filled the room. It was a sound that startled Draco, nearly sending him backwards into the bureau. Instead he fell to the floor, his commotion silenced by the mysterious voice.

"You wish to see your Angel of Music?" the rich voice called out, and even Draco shivered, whether from fear or excitement, he did not know.

"Yes," Harry breathed, his palms pressing against the mirror. "I want to know why…why you picked me."

"Then you shall know, my love," came the voice again, and Draco's eyes widened in shock. For what he saw stunned him so that he couldn't move until it was too late.

Harry stepped even closer to the mirror, his hands falling down to his side. Then suddenly, from the glass itself it seemed to Draco, a gloved hand reached out and stroked Harry's blushed cheek. It trailed down towards Harry's hand, grasping it gently and leading him forward. Draco had expected Harry to hit his face on the mirror, but instead he stepped into it and disappeared from the room.

When Draco found enough courage to move, he dashed around the screen and saw nothing but his own reflection in the mirror. He approached it as Harry had done, feeling along all the seams and the cold glass beneath his fingertips, only to find nothing strange at all.

"Potter?" he whispered, looking around the room. He looked back at the mirror, but he didn't know what to expect. "Harry?" he called louder this time.

His only reply was a giggle. Draco turned around once more, angry that someone would laugh at him. But there was no one there. Then the giggle came again. It was then that Draco realized that it came from above. He looked up at the mirror, falling backwards in horror. There, from the wall, was the head and bodice of a pasty colored girl. She was smiling down at him, amused by something. As Draco tried to crawl away, not turning his back to the strange being above him, she moved towards him, the rest of her ethereal body appearing through the wall.

"Are-are you the Opera Ghost everyone is talking about?" Draco demanded, shaking with fear.

The girl giggled again, shaking her head. "I am Myrtle, a ghost in the opera house, but not the one you're asking about." She paused for a moment, looking back at the mirror. "No, the Phantom is only called that because he pretends to be one of us so that he can do what he wishes." She hovered down, resting beside Draco. He tried to move away, but he found himself trapped against the door. She looked at him the same way the dancing girls looked at rich patrons. "What do you want with him, anyways?"

"It's not him I'm interested in," Draco grumbled, wondering how he could escape. "I'm trying to find Harry Potter."

"He is a catch, isn't he," she sighed, leaning on Draco's shoulder. The cold feeling, whether it was physical or spiritual, made Draco jump in shock. "So it's him you're interested in?"

"No!" Draco retorted. "I only want to know where he went to."

"You don't want to go there," she said gravely, her eyes filled with dread. "Especially uninvited. Even we ghosts stay clear of the Phantom."

Draco couldn't help but smirk at her. "You're spooked by your own kind?"

The ghost frowned at him. "He is not one of us! He is a man. But a powerful man, and so we stay clear. He can't hurt us, but I don't like him."

"Well, then you know where I can find him."

"Yes, but I'm not telling you," she pouted, floating back up to the ceiling to look down at him. "You'll only meet your death there, and what a shameful waste it would be."

Draco stood up, straightening his waistcoat. "Thank you for your concern, but as a patron of this Opera house, I feel it is my duty to try to find Harry Potter. He's one of our leading stars."

She looked at him in a rather curious way, as if trying to read his thoughts. "I see," she said in a know-it-all sort of voice. "Well, don't worry. Your 'star', as you refer to him, will return on his own. Young Harry is the first to earn the trust of the Phantom, so he is free to come and go as long as he doesn't betray him."

Little did they know that this moment would come all too soon.

A/N

Ah, I love writing this story. I like watching my friends read it and go "Give me more!"

Well, I'm having a flood of inspiration, so Ch.5 should be out farely soon, so long as my computer lasts. I'm still having problems with it logging onto the internet (we have DSL, so it's my comp that's got a problem) and my husband keeps stealing my comp to fix it.

About Myrtle: Yes, I know there's no real ghosts in the musical, but even in reality, people believe that their are "souls" that wander the old Opera House. But keep in mind, they're not in France: they're at Hogwarts, just in an alternate universe, so there's still ghosts. And yes, we'll be seeing more of Myrtle, although she won't be so moany...she'll be more giddy and flirty like the bathroom scene in GoF. (heehee)