1Disclaimer: I don't own The Phantom of the Opera. Gaston Leroux does. And Andrew Lloyd Webber. And Joel Schumacher. But I'm not one of them, so I'm just a devoted phan who decided to have a bit of fun. Very well then, do read on!

Chapter 1

Raoul

Raoul walked down the steps of the Opera Populaire as quickly as he could without looking as if he wanted to get away. Every night he had had to come and watch the performances of Christine Daae, who had been creating quite a splash among opera goers. Her talents had much improved with the help of some mysterious tutor. Mysterious to all but him. He knew this ghost all too well. Erik, Opera Ghost, The Phantom of the Opera, The Angel of Music, and whatever else he was called was vying for Christine's affection. Raoul had always been jealous of Erik, of his musical genius. He could sing, which helped to win Christine's heart, but he could never be as gifted as this Ghost. He hadn't really loved Christine; she was attractive and talented, but there was nothing between them on his part. He merely wanted to take her away from Erik. Nothing would hurt his adversary more than to take away the object of his affections. Besides, Christine didn't belong with such an elderly, possessive, deformed creature such as him. The young Vicomte de Chagny had known Christine since childhood, but they had been apart for quite a long time. That evening a few days ago had been their first meeting in many years. He had made his way into her dressing room that night and reminded her of who he was, the little boy who had saved her scarf. He wasted no time in wooing her, and now he was certain he had taken her away from whatever infatuation she had had for her mysterious tutor. It hadn't been entirely pleasant though, he reflected, rubbing his ear. Listening to an opera in choice seats night after night after night hadn't really been his idea of fun. He glanced at a puddle at his feet, checking his appearance, hoping his hair hadn't been mussed by the cold winter wind. His carriage came around the corner a moment later as it began to snow. He was ever so pleased to be leaving that opera house. He was so tired of speaking fancy love language to her with extra sap to make sure that she was convinced. If he had to listen to that spineless ninny speak to him one more time--

"Raoul!"

Oh no...

Raoul held in a cry and plastered a smile on his face as he turned to face the chorus girl, who was running down the steps as quickly as she could.

"Christine, darling, you'll catch your death!"

She smiled and placed a hand on his cheek as she reached him.

"Then I'll die happy."

Oh boy...

He pulled the hood of her cape back over her head, noticing that it had fallen on her hasty descent to speak with him.

"If you died who would be there to serenade me each night?" He kissed her hand. "Or would you have the angels realize their mistake and take you back?"

She smiled. "No. No I'd much prefer to remain here on earth with you."

Lucky me...

Raoul brought her hands between them. "Good. For how could I go on without you?" He kissed her forehead. "Your performance was lovely tonight, my dear. And you looked absolutely radiant."

"I knew I was singing for you."

"I know that you had the entire audience under your spell."

"You looked so handsome tonight, love, in your new suit. I meant to tell you that earlier."

I know...

"You are too kind my dear. Now, tell me when we may meet again, for I must know how many hours to countdown."

"Tomorrow afternoon?"

"Perfect. I shall pick you up in my carriage for a picnic luncheon around, say, noon? That is when the afternoon starts, my love, and I want to start my day with you as early as possible."

"Noon it is then, and not a moment later."

Too bad...

"Of course not. Now, my dear, I am afraid that we must part for awhile, for my carriage is waiting and you will freeze if you stay out here longer."

"Not with you."

Raoul clasped his hands around her thin waist and kissed her red lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He released her gently, a few moments later than he had intended to. He took her hands in his again and kissed them. "Good night, my darling. Until tomorrow."

"Good night Raoul. I love you."

"And I love you dearest."

He looked at her a moment longer, then stepped into his carriage. Christine then drew her cloak about her tightly, waved, and hurried back into the warm opera house.

Raoul sighed as the driver started the carriage, relieved to finally be on his way home. He smirked; his acting really was wonderful, he could fool anyone into thinking he was head-over-heels for Christine Daae. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, this game of his, and Christine was convinced. Not that she was hard to fool. His plans were going flawlessly.