Child of Music

Part 5

Disclaimer: I don't own any characters from 'The Phantom of the Opera'. I do own Danielle and a few more .

Author's Note: Very sorry about the long delay for last chapter. My computer went kablooey, and I just finished transferring all my old files onto my new system. Thanks as always for all your support!

The candles made the beads on Danielle's dress and mask glitter. She spun around, twirled by her father/dance partner, feeling almost light-headed with happiness. The rest of the room spun with her, and it was magic. For one night, she was a princess. She didn't live in an underground grotto. She wasn't a newcomer to this world of light and noise. She was just Danielle. And she could dance.

Erik smiled slightly at the dreamy look on his beloved's face and held her tightly. He had opted for the same costume and mask he had worn during his ill-fated Don Juan Triumphant. It reminded him of terrible times, but it seemed as though it would blend in the best with the other men here. The outfit he had worn for the actual masquerade at the Opera Populaire would draw far too much attention to him. And, when Danielle was getting dressed, he had slipped a real sword into the scabbard at his side. Just in case.

He hadn't been this close to so many people in ages. He felt extremely self-conscious and crowded. It was only his desire to make Danielle happy that let him refrain from racing out of the room at any given moment. He dearly would have like to do so. But he had to endure this. Erik had promised his baby girl a look at the world. And he would help her get it.

A light tap on Danielle's shoulder startled her so much she physically jumped. She turned her head to see a tall man with sandy blonde hair wearing a navy-blue mask and suit offering her his hand.

"May I cut in?" He asked, a small smile twisting his lips.

"Well-" She glanced back to get confirmation from Erik, but he had already let go of her and was sinking into the background. With no excuse, she took the newcomer's hand, though she stood on tiptoe to look over his shoulder and see where her father had gone. She watched as he reached a shadow on the wall and slowly melted away. She sighed in exasperation.

"I'm sorry," her partner said as she turned back to him, looking slightly offended. "I just couldn't resist. You looked so happy. I didn't mean to separate you from your beau."

"My what?" She arched her eyebrows, trying to comprehend what he was saying. He couldn't mean…he did. A short burst of laughter escaped her lips. He frowned.

"You don't have to laugh at me," he said, sounding sullen. "I didn't know you were so attached to-"

"He's my father," she told him.

"Oh." A pink tinge rose quickly in his cheeks. "I didn't-"

"If you had given me a chance to speak I would have-"

"I already apologized, mademoiselle. If you are still determined to antagonize me, then-"

"So I'm antagonizing you? I must say, good monsieur, that I believe you were the one antagonizing-"

"You foolish little-"
"Excuse me!"

"You are excused," he snapped. They stopped and dropped hands as though each was afraid of being burned. They stood in the middle of the floor, obstructing other couples and glaring at each until a new voice broke in.

"Pardon me," an accented man said, "But I was simply wondering if I might steal a dance with this marvelously attractive creature?" Danielle blushed rosily and opened her mouth but her former partner cut her off.

"My feet hurt, Diego, so I'm afraid I'm not up for another dance. But you're welcome to this, this," his vocabulary failed him, but it was unclear whether it was in finding a word worthy of describing what Danielle was or in finding a word he was willing to say about a lady in public. "Just take her."

He did. Danielle began dancing with her new partner. He had dark curls and tanned skin, as well as full, expressive lips that smiled from beneath a scarlet mask.

"I hope it is not too bold to say," Spanish, she thought to herself, placing his accent. "but you did not look as though you enjoyed your dance with Luc."

"No," she said, scowling at the memory of the rude man, "I did not."

"Please, do not be angry with him. He does not mean to offend but," he shrugged, "Luc is not the most skilled with people."

"Obviously," she said bitterly. Diego fell silent and she sighed. "I'm sorry. Let's not speak of him."

"If I may say so, you look very lovely tonight."

"Thank you," she blushed prettily and looked down. When she brought her eyes back up, she allowed herself a glance around the room. Erik had disappeared, but she saw Luc dancing with a very short young woman with sleek, chocolate colored hair. "I see your friend has found a new partner."

Diego glanced over and shrugged as though they did not interest him in the slightest. "It is only Amélie."

"Is she his-"

"Oh, no. They are only friends."

"Good evening," Amélie and Luc had waltzed up to them and she smiled up at Danielle with pure, open friendliness. "I don't believe I've seen you around."

"You haven't," Danielle said, slightly unnerved as the other pair traveled in a circle around them.

"And what a shame that is," Luc commented pointedly. Danielle came very near to sticking her tongue out at him, but realized it would probably make both Diego and Amélie think of her as exceedingly immature. And she wanted badly to make a good impression. So she held in her childish impulses, and after a bit of small talk, she and Diego were alone again.

"Where have you been hiding all this time?" Diego asked with a wry smile.

"The Opera Populaire," she said.

"You live in that neighborhood? I did not know it was still-"

"No. I live in the Opera Populaire." Diego's brow furrowed.

"Inside? But how?" Danielle shrugged. She had never thought about it before. It never seemed important. Diego looked on in confusion for a few moments before laughing heartily.

"You are too much, querida, too much." He pulled her closer and immediately she felt a burning on the back of her neck. At first she thought it was a result of the sudden closeness, but she quickly realized the real source. She sighed.

"Papa is not very happy with you."

"How can you tell?"
"Don't you feel it?" Erik's eyes burned into her back, and she could feel every ounce of his disapproval. She looked down, embarrassed. .When he didn't respond, she looked back up. He was watching her with soft eyes.

"I thought it was just you," he murmured, causing her to blush once again, and her heart to soar.

She would have been happy dancing here with him for hours, if not forever, but it was not to be. A firm, gloved hand fastened on her shoulder and she looked up into the obviously displeased face of Erik.

"We are leaving," he said, voice cold, eyes flickering with what could soon become open animosity. Danielle was not about to let that happen.

"Thank you for the dance," she said, curtsying formally to her partner. It was out of the ordinary, especially for her, but the dress made her feel elegant and regal. Diego smiled amusedly at her curtsy, and followed suit with a deep bow.

"The pleasure was all mine, señorita…" he trailed off expectantly. Erik was already pulling her backwards, away from him, away from the room.

"Danielle," she called to him, before Erik turned her around and put a protective arm around her shoulder, effectively boxing out anyone else.

"Danielle of the Opera Populaire," Diego whispered to himself.

"I wouldn't." Luc had handed Amélie off to another admirer and now came to stand beside Diego, folding his arms across his chest, watching Danielle and Erik disappear through the crowd.

"Why ever not?" the Spanish boy had a smile beginning to twist the edges of his mouth. Luc looked over at him and shook his head in disgust.

"I just wouldn't."