Author's Note:

Hiii! I'm glad that you like it so far! No, this is not going to be slash...sorry to disappoint/glad to relieve. Not that I strongly oppose slash, because people can write whatever they want to, it just isn't my cup of tea =). Thanks guys for reviewing!!! You made my day!!! I think that this story will prove that not all stories just involving Raoul and Erik are slash or will end up that way. Mine can't be the first one to prove this theory though...surely not! ...I'll find another.

~*~

For a long time, Raoul simply stood outside. He didn't know how one would knock on a tent, but he didn't want to just walk in either. A few times, he started to call out tentatively, but his voice always caught in his throat. Not with fear, but nervousness. Adults didn't usually unnerve Raoul; he saw plenty of them at Philippe's parties. But...his mind conjured up images from the magic show and tortured him with the theory of the Devil's involvement. He knew that it was ridiculous, of course... Raoul had never been impractical, but he was young, and that was enough.

But the violin... What he wouldn't give to be able to play like that! Philippe had been so disappointed when he had given it up. Philippe would love it if he could play even a fraction of what he'd heard!

It had always been Raoul's deepest and unconscious desire to please his brother.

And so, with the little courage that he could muster, Raoul opened his mouth with newfound conviction.

"Come in."

Having not uttered a word, Raoul stood in a stupor for a few moments, staring blankly at the tent flaps...but that was not the only reason for his astonishment.

The smooth quality of the man's voice was something that could not possibly be of this world... It was so unlike the figure that he remembered. Surely the Devil could not have apprentices that talked like that... It wasn't a sound that Raoul had ever heard before. He wanted to hear it again.

The voice was not so beautiful now, but harsh and irritated. "Parlez-vous français?"

Despite the sarcasm and the increasing sense of danger, Raoul went inside. A child's courage is remarkable, for a grown man would never have dared to step over that threshold.

As soon as he dropped the cover behind him, it became significantly darker. A candle was lit, but it was at the far end of the tent and seemed to only create more shadows.

The man was bent over papers, writing intensely, his back to Raoul. "What do you want?"

Tentatively, Raoul took a few steps closer, and his hand bumped against an odd little contraption that sat on a table. "Nothing...just..." Idly, he picked it up and turned it over in his hand, just for something to fidget with. It was a small box with spikes on the insides that left barely enough room for someone as young as Raoul to stick in his hand. Not that he would, but curiously...he almost wanted to...he felt compelled to try it...

Just as his hand touched the outside of the spikes, the man spoke without turning, and his voice had now become cold. "Put that down."

Raoul did. Somehow he knew that it wouldn't be wise to disobey. "Sorry... What is it for?"

The man turned then, and the yellow eyes that Raoul saw from the stage were nothing compared to what they looked like up close. Striking, deadly, and narrowed...they pierced him so suddenly that he had to resist taking a step back. Another black mask that only revealed half of his face had replaced the full one that he had worn during the show. It was less intimidating, but not by much. "I doubt that you want to know that. What do you want?"

Beyond the man the violin case was propped against the wall, and Raoul's eyes found it with a relief. "The violin...I wanted to talk to you about it..."

Something made the man pause, and what looked like a wry smile began at the corner of his lips. "Indeed. How did you like the performance?"

Blinking with confusion, the question was out of Raoul's mouth before he could stop to think about it, "How did you know that I was there?"

"I saw you."

"Oh..." Feeling rather ridiculous, Raoul looked away again. "I liked the music."

The man followed Raoul's gaze, but then returned his attention the papers in front of him. His response sounded preoccupied with a hint of impatience. "Really..."

In order to keep his interest and not be thrown out, Raoul spoke quickly: "Yes. I know how to play..."

With a gesture of absolutely no interest, the man motioned for Raoul to take up the violin. Then he turned back to his work. "By all means."

Raoul hesitated, but then he bent and took the case, realizing that his hands were shaking again as he opened it carefully and took out the beautifully varnished violin.

It was made oddly, and not in any fashion that Raoul recognized or had ever seen. Perfectly carved and made out of the richest wood, it shone in the soft candlelight; and he could see his unmarred reflection on the smooth surface. His violin was just as expensive, but not made so nicely as this one. He remembered the sound the man's violin produced as well...light, effortless, and haunting... It didn't seem to be an instrument that Raoul was capable of handling, and he wondered why he was being allowed to make an attempt.

Ever so gently, Raoul positioned the bow and began to play. He wasn't good. In fact, he wasn't even what a respectable musician would call decent. It wasn't as though he didn't try...no, because his heart was in it...at least the portion that wished to satisfy his brother. Raoul did want to do well, but it was not in the blood of an aristocrat to excel in the art of music...just to pass as a well-rounded gentleman of the era.

Though at his age and after lessons, the sound was far from passable, and Raoul felt the tips of his ears redden a little when the last note cut short after he accidentally struck the strings a bit too stiffly.

Then he noticed that the masked figure's full attention was on him. "That..." The man paused, and his eyes glinted as they met Raoul's, "Was the most appalling thing that I've ever heard."

Embarrassed, Raoul fumbled for a good response, but all that he could come up with was a pitiable: "I've been out of practice..."

"Were you ever in it?" He smirked, and Raoul's cheeks burned along with his ears.

Without answering this time, Raoul knelt, tenderly replaced the violin in its case, and snapped the locks back into place. When he looked up again, the man had gone.

Since he hadn't seen him actually leave, this was rather mystifying. Raoul stood dumbfounded for a few moments and then went back outside. The sun was beginning to set, and he realized that Philippe would be wondering where he was right about now.

The man was on the platform, inspecting what looked to be a trapdoor. Raoul wandered over curiously and stood by the side of the structure to watch. It was then that he realized that the platform wasn't actually on the ground...but supported over the edge of a cliffside. To evade the risk of falling over the rim, there was a high wall built on the platform as a backdrop. The wood looked brand new.

Even so, Raoul imagined that it would not be too deadly to fall...the cliff was barely high enough to even deserve the name. It couldn't be more than twelve feet. Curiously, he leaned further to try and see how someone would land if they happened to accidentally topple from the platform.

A hand gripped the back of his collar and pulled him back. Raoul yelped, fell against the wood supports, and looked up into the black mask with fright.

With a voice so chilling that it made Raoul shudder, the man stared directly down into Raoul's eyes. "Stay away from the edge."

Blinking, Raoul took in a few gasps of air. "Why?"

The question itself seemed to strike a hidden nerve, and the icy hand left Raoul's shoulder. "There is a quarry below."

Blankly: "A quarry?"

"Look again, and be careful this time."

Obediently, Raoul kept hold of the wooden platform as he peered cautiously over the side of the cliff. Far below he saw a gaping hole, where rock had been dug out and set aside, but a few pieces still remained... He saw, but he did not understand. "What is it?"

The man was looking down as well. "It is used mainly by masons. Stonework...for buildings."

"They take it out of the ground?"

"Do you know of someplace better?"

Raoul pondered this question then leaned back on his knees and looked up at the masked man. Some of his sense of propriety seemed to finally return. "I never introduced myself. I'm the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny. What is your name?" He was proud to use the title, and it was rather obvious in his tone of voice. He spoke with a mild arrogance typical of someone his age.

The man laughed. It was not a true laugh... There was something dark about it. And empty. "Erik."

Raoul stared at Erik for a few moments in thought and then said rather simply, "I want you to teach me."

Erik had retreated to the trapdoor at this point and was once more working with the levers beneath it. There was a long pause before he answered. "I don't teach."

Standing, Raoul leaned over the top of the platform. "Please? My brother could pay you..."

"I have no need for money, little Mozart."

Raoul frowned at the nickname, recognizing it as a mockery. "Why do you call me that? Mozart wasn't known for his violin."

Lifting his eyes, Erik inspected Raoul rather sneeringly. "Neither are you."

Insulted and not hardened to criticism, Raoul scoffed and looked away. He hated being ridiculed in any fashion. His brother didn't treat him that way...neither did his sisters, and that someone would actually tell him how horrible his playing was...it was baffling! It wasn't as though he didn't already know...but no one actually said it! In a way he liked the dissimilarity.

But it was still confusing.

He tried another tactic. "Then you should teach me how to be."

"I have no interest in teaching." Erik raised the trapdoor and stood, but then he busied himself inspecting the woodcarvings on the edge of the platform backdrop. "And, if I did, I would have no desire to take you as my student."

There was an audible finality in his voice, and it left little room for argument. The certainty threw Raoul into silence, and he sighed awkwardly and with poorly concealed disappointment, causing the amber eyes to briefly turn back to him.

But then Erik looked away with a silent and indifferent dismissal.

But Raoul did not go. What he wouldn't give to at least be able to make Philippe proud of him...just a little proud. His older brother would to be able to brag that he, Raoul, was well educated in many fields...instead of fearing that he wasn't being brought up properly. He could even play for his sisters if he learned one ounce of what he'd heard! And then, perhaps, in the long run, he wouldn't have to go to his aunt's, and he could stay in Paris for the summer instead. Philippe called it a vacation, but Raoul knew that it had to be more than that and he dreaded the visit.

Of course, it is only in children's minds that their logic actually makes sense. It wouldn't matter to Philippe one bit how Raoul played the violin. To him, things of that relation were unimportant in general upbringing. In fact, he was rather proud of his younger brother... His only problem was his inability to show it.

But to Raoul, the violin seemed to be an opportunity to permanently gain his brother's favor, and he wasn't about to give that up...Erik's rejection only seemed to add spark to his determination.

But for now, he wasn't going to agree... Children also know temporary defeat, but these were small battles in a larger war. All he needed was patience and a strategy...and the fair was still in town for a few more weeks.

Relinquishing the argument for now, Raoul instead asked a different question. "Can I come back tomorrow?"

This time there was no answer.

He took it as a yes.