Okay! So we left off with you'n'Raoul walking to the jewelry shop and Phantom appearing to Christine.

-gives a small sob- I only got one review...-sniffle- well...thank you mrs. Malfoy -smiles- have patience, it will come. -broad grin-

Phantom : o.O

"What are you doing here?" Christine asked spitefully.

The hood of his cloak was pulled up so attention wouldn't easily be drawn to his mask. He looked over towards the shop. "My, my, that young lady looks remarkably like you. And oh, I do believe she was in my lair last night."

Christine gasped...he knew.

"Did you honestly think I'd believe your little decoy?" he asked with a hint of disgust.

"If you're after Katie, Raoul will never–"

"She's the last person I'd be here for," he said, glowering at the thought of you.

((OOS : Reader : Heeey...that's mean...-sniffle-

Me : We know how much he loves you -smiles-

Phantom : I didn't know there was such a thing as negative amounts of love.))

"No, my dear, I'm here for you..." he said, standing back up and touching one of Christine's curls gently.

Christine shuddered, unable to really do anything.

Suddenly the Phantom's eyes were filled with sorrow.

"Christine...Christine, you must love me," he said, falling to his knees. His gloved hands found hers in her lap, though she pulled them away at his cold touch.

"I'm sorry, but Angels do not hypnotize their prey," she said. "I saw what was under that mask and it's not horrible as you think...but you've allowed the ugliness of your face poison your heart. I can see the anger in your eyes, and I'm afraid you may do something rash you will regret."

Phantom's face soured up.

"Everything can be prevented. Any lives being taken can be sustained if you'll only be mine," he hissed.

Christine's eyes widened. She had not meant anything near killing. But now that he had suggested it, it was clear he was capable.

Phantom stood. "Why are you with that De Changy boy, anyway?"

"He's quite the gentleman, I'll have you know," Christine said, folding her hands in her lap once more.

"Now, now, no need for bitter tones..." he muttered with a small smile. "Why is he with Katie, my dear?"

"She's here with her Ballet Academy. He's simply showing her around."

"Is that all? My dear, that's the same way my eyes become when I look at you," he said, looking at Raoul through the shop's window.

"How amazing..." you whisper, tempted to press your nose to the glass case which held all sorts of beautiful jewelry. Earrings, chokers (all the rage), longer chains, and regular rings.

You begin waving your hand in front of your face in order to fan yourself. You turn to find Raoul watching you intently.

"...What?"

He laughs and clasps his hands behind his back. "Nothing. Well, it's just that you look like a child in a candy store." His face lights up with a chuckle.

The slow thud of boots on the cobblestone floor can be heard as the shop owner walks into the room. He's a tall man, salt and pepper beard yielding more hair than his balding head. His face is covered in ashes and dirt, sweat drops running down the sides of his face, carrying the dirt away, leaving streaks of cleaner skin.

"Wha' can I do for yeh?" he asks in a friendly tone. "I'm the silver smith here. If yeh be needin' anathin', feel free to ask." Catching sight of you, he smiles and wipes his forehead on the back of his dirty brown sleeve (once white), then points behind you. "We've got fans over there if ye're feelin' hot."

You smile sheepishly and turn to look up at the wall where the hand held fans are spread wide, coming all sizes and colors, each with a special jewel welded into the handle piece, some with feathers added, others lined in velvet. They reminded you greatly of glittering shells on the beach.

"Would you like one?" Raoul asks you.

"Oh, no, I didn't bring that much money with me..." you say, gripping your small purse a little tighter as your cheeks go red.

"That's not a problem. I had intended to pay anyway," he says, turning back to look at all the fans. "Which would you like, m'lady?"

"You see...this is no ordinary girl to Mr. De Changy," Phantom points out.

"What are you trying to do?" Christine asks angrily.

"Turn your heart away from him. He will only break it. Come to me...become mine..." he enticed, fingertips extending to touch Christine's pale cheek.

Christine said nothing, face turning away from his touch.

His lips became an angry frown. His hand grasped her chin roughly. "I gave you the magic of your voice, I can take it away..." He forced her face to look up at his.

"My heart belongs to someone else and as long as it soars, so will my voice," she said quietly.

"I'll give you one last chance...return to me..." he said, leaning towards her...though the sound of the shop door opening and the bell chiming caused him to stand up and look to where you and Raoul were barely exiting the building.

By the time the two of you looked up at Christine, Phantom had disappeared into the shadows.

Later that evening, you sit in your room. Raoul had requested you eat dinner at the Opera Populaire with Christine and himself. You had okayed the invitation with your ballet instructor.

You had plucked up enough courage to finally be able to ask Madame Giry about receiving a part in the upcoming Opera. To make a better impression, you got back into your red leotard, black silk skirt, flesh colored tights, and red dancing shoes, lacing them up your calves.

Walking to the closet, you open it to fish out your old grey cloak, then turn to look at the mirror placed on the inside of the door when you notice the fan Raoul had bought for you. You had hung it by its handle on the hook for the mirror. It hung upside down, spread out over the top of the mirror, so you couldn't see your face, but that was okay.

After you tied cloak securely around your neck, you unhooked the fan and ran your fingers along the green ivy design set into the black material. You grinned a little. Raoul sure was sweet to you.

Looking up into the mirror, you gasp and nearly fall backward as the Phantom's mask reflects dimly in the glass. Blinking, you step forward, the mask disappearing.

The sky is cloudy, barring out any moonlight. Barely able to see a few feet ahead of you, you make your way swiftly through the foggy streets, the mist tumbling after your cloak as it sweeps the ground. The echo of your hasty footsteps is muffled by the thick air.

Glancing behind you often, nothing is following you, though you're still spooked by the experience in front of the mirror.

"Ah, there you are," Raoul says happily as you stumble into the entrance of the Opera house. You can see Christine watching from the Dining Hall's doorway. It looked as though Raoul had been pacing around. Why would he have been?

"I'm sorry I'm late. I got lost," you say uneasily.

"I knew I should have come to pick you up. How stupid of me," Raoul says with a small sigh, shaking his head. "Here, let me take your cloak."

"Oh, no, no it's alright," you say, removing it yourself. "I'll put it away myself," you say, turning in a slow circle, looking for a coat hanger of some sort.

"You can place it in my dressing room if you'd like, Katherine," Christine suggests with a small smile.

"Can I? I'll be back in a moment! Go ahead and go on in, I won't keep you waiting any longer," you say, hearing everyone already eating, the clank of utensils and plates and cups hitting each other and the table in the next room.

Once inside Christine's dressing room, you fold your cloak and set it on the arm of the chair in the corner, then walk over to the mirror to double check yourself and make sure you're still presentable. Though...a letter catches your eye. It's stamp is a large wax skull and lying above the note lies a blood red rose, a long black ribbon tied around the stem.

"O. G.?" you murmur, reading the signature on the other side of the letter. Curiosity gets the best of you after you realize it's from the Opera Ghost. Opening it slowly, you look around the room as though someone may be looking.

Messy red ink fills the page, splotched on some words.

"My love,

Let us meet under the moon on the roof at the stroke of midnight. I'll be waiting there to sing you the music of the night. To sweep you off your feet so that you can forget all worldly cares and only remember the magic of the stars... be there my angel, and let our souls take flight!"

Unfortunately you are unable to finish reading the note before someone knocks on the door and you absentmindedly hide the opened letter in a drawer of the vanity table. "I'm coming!" you call to whoever it is and hurry out of the room.

...Continued the P.S. after O.G.'s signature reads, "...No tricks, no games, no decoys, just your beauty and yours alone."

Well there's chapter 4! Naturally you're gonna go up there, assuming Christine would've asked you eventually after reading it. Unfortunately, you're still clueless that he knows Christine was playing a game.