A/N: Chappie six! YAY! I have way too many ideas. Just posted some stuff on the Les Mis front, but I like my POTO stuff way better. Disclaimer: Do not own POTO. I will one day…mwahaha. But Erik still lives in my closet.

Giry sat by Erik, and said in a quiet voice:

"Can I hear Juliette Lost once more, before I go?"

"Of course." He replied.

He straightened up and went over to the piano, and began to play the overture once again. Giry began to dance around the lair, and, strangely, she began to weep. Erik stopped mid-chord and looked up at her.

"Every time I hear this I think of you. And your pain." She said. "I can't understand it. But I revel in your opera. It is like second nature to me."

"Should I stop?" asked Erik. "It hurts me to see you cry so."

"No. Just look away. "

"It hurts me, but you are so beautiful. Your tears are diamonds."

She smiled a little.

"Do you sincerely mean that?" she asked. "Or are you just toying with me?'

"Antoinette, I never toy with you." He said.

"Promise?" she said.

"Yes." He said, no testy emotions escaping his lips.

"I love you, Erik." She said, and continued dancing, her tears mingling with her woolen shawl.

Erik suddenly moved towards her, and grabbed her by the waist. She was so startled that she looked at him in abject fear.

"Erik," she said. "What are you doing?"

"You know the music." He said slowly. "Dance, mon ange."

He held her gently, cradling her form in his arms. She moved her feet slowly, and soon began to pick up a waltzing step. Erik led her, his eyes misty with happiness. Her dress whirled around her legs, and her shawl flew behind her like wings. They danced to the music that they alone could hear, faster and faster, until Erik's face was a blur before Giry's eyes, and Giry's form an indistinct mass to Erik. Still twirling, Erik led Giry into his bedroom, and stopped. She fell onto the bed, laughing.

"In all my years Erik." She said. "I have never danced like that."

"I have never danced until I met you." He said huskily.

"I must go, Erik." She said. "Really."

She got up from the bed, and raced to the gondola. Erik alighted into the gondola after her, and pushed the boat along with the stick.

"You see." Giry explained. "My post as prima ballerina cannot go without regard. Although I would prefer spending my time with you." She smiled up at him from her position in the boat.

"Let me sing you part of Divine Heaven." Said Erik. "You will enjoy it."

He began in his rich baritone, and Giry was instantly enamored of the words.

Let me show thee light

The light of God unending

It is in our souls

Our love and our ways

Sweet, immaculate beauty

Thou comest to me in silence

But I hear thine voice

In rapture forever

Let me grace thee

Lead me from my despair

Thou alone is my light

Thou alone is my desire

The flames of passion consume us

My love pours from an empty soul

Thou alone can fill me

Thou alone can love me

His voice dropped into silence, and it hung in the air for a while.

"I'm sorry that it doesn't rhyme…" he began, put Giry reached up and put a finger to his lips.

"It is beautiful." She said, and hugged his chest firmly. "I look forward to hearing more of it someday."

She kissed his lips delicately.

"Erik, I love you." She whispered.

"I love you, Antoinette." He replied.

They had reached the other side of the lake.

"I cannot stay for dinner." Said Giry. "I must practice my ballet."

"Till tomorrow, then, sweet Antoinette." He said, and gave her a rapturous kiss.

"Goodbye, mon beau ange." She whispered tenderly. "I love you."

"I love you." Said Erik.

Giry walked up from the cold catacombs and on to the stage. The ballerinas were focusing on their arm positions, and looked up at Giry with disgust.

"Well, look who's here." Sneered one particularly nasty ballet rat. "What kept you, prima ballerina?"

"It is none of your concern." Said Giry. "Please work on your tendues."

The ballet rats grumbled indistinctly and began to stretch accordingly. Gury herself followed suit, moving gracefully in time to Erik's melodious voice singing a few bars of Divine Heaven. She moved away from the barre and began to turn as though she was dancing with Erik. The other ballerinas looked on in astonishment, and one went up boldly and tapped Giry on her shoulder, jerking her out of the trance.

"Who are you dancing with?" asked a young girl, as if she understood Giry's passion.

"No one." Replied Giry stiffly. "It is none of your concern." She repeated.

"Oh." The young girl backed down instinctively and began to practice her tendues again. Giry sniffed disapprovingly, and began to give them instruction, pointing out how wrong their positions were.

"Honestly," she reprimanded. "You dance like a herd of sow."

One young girl glared up at her hotly.

"Then you try it, Mademoiselle Perfect!" she said indignantly.

"I will, thank you." Replied Giry in a nonchalant voice.

She demonstrated with perfect poise the way the ballet rats were supposed to be doing the exercise.

"There now, do you understand?" she asked pointedly.

"Yes." Replied the ballet girl, who still glared and went back to her work.

Giry sighed a little, and then dismissed the ballerinas from there practice. In truth, they had only been working for about fifteen minutes, but Giry did not care. She needed to rest, and rework everything that was silently flitting about her head. With a slight wave of her arm, she led the ballerinas back into the dormitories, as nighttime was growing near, and settled the littlest ones into bed. She herself crawled into bed, changing into the same black nightgown. The young ballerina who had addressed her the first time came up to the foot of her bed.

The ballerina was a poor, young, dejected creature. Her hair was blonde, and her eyes were sunken orbs in a papery face. But she retained some prettiness, as her laugh was like silver and her voice melodious. Silently she crawled into Giry's bed, and sat down beside her, boldly taking a handful of the sheets for herself.

"Mama said a girl dances like that when she is in love." She whispered more to herself than to Giry. "Mademoiselle Giry, who are you in love with?"

"It is none of your concern." Replied Giry, and rolled over so that her back was facing the small child.

But the girl peeped over her shoulder, and began to poke Giry furiously.

"Is he handsome?" she said questioningly. "What is he like? Are you really in love? Will you get married? Mama said it is proper for a young girl to be married as soon as possible."

"Listen," Giry said heatedly. "I shall not tell you. Go to sleep."

"Please?" whined the girl, and Giry was forced to relent.

"Alright. He is a good-looking man. He is very nice. Yes we are. I don't know." She said rapidly, answered each question with a single sentence.

The girl nodded and left Giry to her quiet self. Giry leant against the pillows and thought about her relationship, and all that the little girl had said.

"Of course, Erik is not that good-looking," she said slowly. "No, he is. Very good-looking. Very very good-looking. At least his one half." She chuckled to herself. "And he has a temper, oh yes, but he loves me. And that's all that matters. And…" her voice trailed off and she made the sign of the cross. "I want to be married, God. Please let Erik ask. Someday. I love him."

She turned over in her exhaustion and began to sleep.