He meets her in the hallway they had planned on and pauses before offering her his arm, which she takes.
She's already smiling behind her bird-themed mask.
If he is nervous, it does not show.
They quietly enter into the ballroom, their arrival unnoticed in the sea of masked dancers and partygoers.
He decides the gentlemanly thing to do is to get her some punch, but instead of staying by the wall when he informed her of where he was going, she clings to his arm and follows him. He does not have the heart to say anything, and besides, he'd rather have her with him anyway.
They stand towards the edge of the room and watch those around them. Christine watches him watching the others. How long has it been since he was in a crowd this large?
Suddenly a hand waves out to the from the crowd, and a high clear voice is calling her name.
"Christine! You're here!" Meg rushes to embrace her old friend.
Christine had written to Meg before the party to inform her of what costume she would be wearing so that they could finally catch up in person. They had not seen each other ages, it felt like. Christine had also seen fit to warn Erik ahead of time that Meg would be looking for her, lest he be startled. As he was expecting this, he hangs back to let the two get reacquainted.
The two women talk for a short while before Meg's eyes turn to the man Christine was standing with.
"And who is this?" she eyes him up and down from behind her golden sun shaped mask.
Erik steps forward and gives a small bow.
"Good evening, Baroness. It is lovely to see you again."
Meg flutters her hand to her mouth in surprise, recognizing his voice.
She looks back at Christine, utterly scandalized and completely enjoying it.
"Oh, Christine!" she draws out every syllable of her name.
Christine can only giggle. She knows her secret is safe with her friend.
Meg takes her leave, more guests vying for her attention.
The first dance of the evening begins and Christine looks expectantly at Erik. Very little of his face is exposed underneath his black bird shaped mask, and she cannot tell his expression as he pulls her towards him and on to the dance floor.
She has never danced with Erik before. He is a better dancer than she had expected, and she wonders why this surprised her - he is, after all, quite adept at almost anything he does.
It's nearly divine to dance with him, she thinks. She wishes their costumes did not include gloves - really, she should have thought of this when planning them - so that she could feel his hand in hers better. She loves the feel of his strong shoulder under her hand, and how his hand rests on her back as he guides across the floor. He looks out across the floor, scanning the room for the first part of the dance, and then finally - finally! - looks at her and her heart skips a beat. It's all she can do to keep from collapsing into his arms in a most unladylike manner.
The dance ends and they, regretfully, part.
It is then that she notices something. Someone.
The Viscount de Chagny.
She gives a small gasp.
"Christine? What's wrong?"
She looks up into his eyes.
The Viscount and Viscountess de Chagny.
Her words stick in her throat. Finally she manages a reply.
"Nothing is wrong, Erik."
But he follows her gaze and sees the couple. Erik flinches and turns as if to leave, but Christine's hands shoot out and grab his arm before he can sink into the shadows.
"Don't go, please." she quietly begs him.
He stays.
She does not attempt to gain Raoul's attention. She misses her old friend, but it would not do for her to talk to him, not here, not now. How awkward it would be for the wife to meet the ex-fiancée, how the gossip would spread. None of them deserved that.
"He looks happy, doesn't he?" she whispers.
Raoul is doting on his wife - feeding her bites of cake and they are both laughing.
"I am glad they are happy."
She turns to Erik, to look him in the eyes. He swiftly darts his gaze away from hers, trying to pretend he had not been staring at her while she watched her boy. She summons all of her courage and places a hand on his chest. She can feel his heart hammering even through the many layers of clothing he's wearing.
"And I am happy to be here with you."
He makes no acknowledgement of her words but she notices that during the rest of the dances he holds her just a little tighter, a little closer, and she does not think it is only in her imagination.
The night passes without incident. They manage to avoid having to speak to anyone else, they dance to every song that's played, they drink punch and eat cake and sherbet - Christine considers it a success.
As they prepare to part in the hallway once more, she curtsies deeply while he bows to her and she has to stifle her laugh.
"I must thank you for a lovely evening, Monsieur." she adopts the affected air of an aristocrat.
"Likewise, Mademoiselle." he follows her example.
"I really do mean it, Erik." she softens her voice into her own, into sincerity. "Thank you for coming here tonight and dancing with me."
He takes her hand and for a moment she thinks he's going to kiss it, and perhaps he meant to at first, but instead he simply runs his thumb over her knuckles and gives it a gente squeeze before letting go.
"I shall see you tomorrow for your lesson."
And he slips off into the darkness.
She returns to her room, her mind still swaying in time with music long since silent. The evening was so lovely, and she thinks it was so sweet of Erik to agree to it - she had almost thought he would not, or perhaps change his mind at the last minute. But he had danced with her just as she had dreamed dreamed he would.
Erik steals back to his house on the underground lake in a daze. He had not dared to dream that he would get a chance to have such a night with Christine, not since before the... Unpleasant occurrence. But she had asked him to come here tonight - asked to dance with him! - and she had seemed to truly enjoy it. He had been so nervous over so many things about tonight. Would they be recognized despite their costumes? Would she not enjoy herself as she thought she would, and would it be through some fault of his? Was all this, perhaps, some sort of trick being pulled on him? But it had turned out so beautifully.
His mind is awhirl with emotion, his breathing feels like he's just run a marathon. His nerves are still thrumming from it all - he had not been in such a large for years and the chatter had been almost overwhelming. There were, of course, thoughts of the last masquerade that he didn't like to think of. But Christine had been here with him tonight, a beacon he could focus on when everything else was too much.
He knows he mustn't let his mind get carried away over it - it must change nothing about their relationship. But for that walk down the many stairs and the short boat trip back, he revels in the memory of having his hands on her because she had asked him to. He knows it is not an opportunity that will likely repeat itself, and he knows that tomorrow he will need to be her teacher once again with structure and boundaries that must not be crossed. But tonight - just for tonight - he allowed himself to be merely a man who had delighted in swirling a beautiful woman across the dance floor in time to the sounds of the violins and the cellos and the pianos.