Sorry for the wait, I've been consumed with the Play "Les Mis" at school, and drawing, I've been doing less important thing… sorry.

The Next Mourning Charlotte woke up in her own bed, fully dressed. She yawned and softly said "what a strange dream." She sighed and walked to her luggage which she had neglected to put away the night before, how odd.

She sighed as she pulled out a, now wrinkled, red dress. She set it aside, on her bed. She unhooked the latches of the dress she was wearing, and slowly pulled it off. She stepped out of the dress and kicked it aside (Charlotte was not a very tidy person).

She stood silent in her chemise, she shivered, she felt as if someone was watching her. She looked at the mirror, she walked closer to it and shook her head 'she must be paranoid, but if not, some one was getting a peep show.' She unconsciously sped up the process, pulling the red dress on as quickly as possible. The dress was low cut and showed off her 'feminine attributes'

She buttoned the dress, and sat down at her vanity. She brushed out her long black hair. She clipped the falling pieces up with a comb. She gave a faint smile at her pale reflection. She looked at the painting to the left of her "what are you looking at?" she asked expecting and answer. The portrait was rather, well ugly, it was of the past "diva" Carlotta, she wasn't very, not to be mean or anything, but pretty.

Or maybe it was just such a contrast to Christine Daaé, who was next to her, and absolutely gorgeous. As she was admiring the portrait she felt something under her hand, an envelope. It was sealed with thick red wax in the impression of a skull. She turned it over to see whom it was addressed too.

'Mademoiselle Charlotte Gabriels' was scripted across the envelope. She delicately peeled away the red skull, and pulled out the note…

Dear Charlotte,

Excuse me for not formally introducing my self last night, and for lack of a better word 'kidnapping' you last night. It was not right of me to do such a thing. And I know you bit me for the right reasons, it was my own fault, I had it coming. My deepest apologies for what happened last night.

I should now like to introduce myself, have you heard of the Phantom of the Opera? By all accounts, that is me, a Phantom. But you Mademoiselle, can think of me as Erik. I should much like to speak to you and give you a proper lesson tonight, at 11. Stay in your room, I will come for you.

Regards,

O.G.

Post Script… It would be wise if you hide this note. Perhaps in your Vanity.

She did as the letter instructed and put the letter in the top drawer of the vanity. She sighed and put her bags in the closet, not to look messy. And hung up the dress worn the day before. She pulled a sketch pad out of her bags and began to draw.

An Hour later she heard a knock at her door which made her jump clear out of her seat. She laid her pad to the side and quickly strode to the door and gained her composure before she opened the door.

The door open to the young Vicomte. She smiled, as he did practically own the theatre. Be nice. She thought to herself.

"Monsieur Le Vicomte" she said softly "come in." She gestured for him to come in. As he did, she shut the door after him. "Mademoiselle, do you remember me?" he asked.

She looked at him with a questioning look. "From yesterday?" she asked "Monsieur, do you think I have that bad of a memory?"

"Not from yesterday." He said moving towards her window, and gazing outwards. "The boy…" he began slowly. "The boy that you met under the bridge, to avoid your father's gaze?" he said turning to her holding his top hat in front of him with two hands.

Her eyes went wide at the sound of this. "Chris!" she said running to him smiling. He hugged her. She loved the feeling of his arms around her, she felt secure, she felt like that was where she belonged. With him.

They broke away he kissed her on the cheek. "I didn't know you were a vicomte" she said questioningly. He walked over to a portrait on the wall. And looked at it.

"You know of Christine Daaé, do you not, how she married The Vicomte de Chagny?" he said. She looked at him and nodded. "Well he is now the the Comte, obvoiusly. She" he said pointing to Christine's portrait "is my mother"

Behind the Mirror. "A Changy will NOT take another protégé from me! NEVER! Even if he is Christine's son" he move closer to the mirror and placed his hand on it… "SHE IS MINE!"

I 3 Cliff hangers!

Danielle Black…