A/N: Many thanks to all my kind and caring reviewers. It is all appreciated. Thanks especially to Queen-Chick and QueenSarah, who have remained steadfast throughout the first six chapters. Disclaimer: Do not own POTO. Erik, closet, Leroux's ghost…you get the drift.
Erik sat still on his bed, humming a short melody of one part of Divine Heaven. In the past few weeks, Giry had heard it six times, and they had laughed, and danced, and kissed. He was so in love it was indescribable. He constantly wondered if Giry felt the same, or if she was doing everything on a whim. He was still insecure in their love, despite the sweet things that had been said.
He went from his bedroom and dressed himself in his dress shirt and embroidered vest, placing a white mask on his disfigured face. Silently he smiled, and suddenly did not wonder about Antoinette's love. She did not care about his face, and he loved her for it. With a heartfelt squeeze he crumpled the score of Juliette Lost in his hands and held it over an open candle flame. The flames consumed it in a burst of brilliant, orange light. He smiled a bit, and laughed. There would be no turning back. He heard his opera go up in a brilliant burst of sound. The chords weaved around his head, and he sighed in happiness. Finally his pain would diminish.
It was still nighttime in the darkness of the ballerinas' dormitory. Giry had slept for a brief twenty minutes, and could not erase Erik's face from her mind. She had tried so hard to do so, and it just would not work. Creeping out of the dormitory, she set off with one purpose in her young mind.
"Erik," she whispered. "I swear to you I love you."
Her arms shook when she opened her wardrobe, and took out an article of clothing that she thought she would never use. It was another nightgown, not her threadbare black one, but one with a sweeping neckline and coquettish lace frills. She smiled a little and began to giggle.
"He shall be in for a surprise." She said with a triumphant smile.
Rapidly, she changed into the nightgown, admiring how it fit her curves snugly. She let her hair out of the long braid, allowing it to flow elegantly down to her waist. She slipped her feet into a pair of red slippers, and wrapped a pearl necklace, her dead mother's, around her neck. Her heart was pounding a rhythmic tattoo in her chest, and she felt the heat begin to rise in her head. Her eyes were wide, but beautiful, and they crinkled with a trace of tears.
"Erik." She whispered.
The prima ballerina went from her room and out into the lonely stage. With a sigh, she gracefully pirouetted around the floor, waving her arms with grace. Maybe tonight she would dance with Erik; maybe she would finally dance the dance she was truly meant to. Nervously, she moved through the aisles of the theatre, and made her way to the trapdoor that was sure to lead to Erik's lair.
With trepidation she walked down the cracked flagstone, past the lit candles decorated with cobwebs. At the edge of the lake, she stood for a while, contemplating every possibility.
"But my position…my religion…" she said with fear, in a hushed whisper so her words would not travel over to Erik. "What if…" her voice trailed off into nothingness.
With haste she stepped into the gondola, and pushed the pole into the muddy bottom. She did not see Erik, and her heart fell for a moment. She stepped from the gondola, allowing her nightgown to trail a bit in the water.
"Erik?" she whispered, her voice that of heated passion. "Erik?"
He emerged from his bedroom with a beautiful white mask and a great black cloak, draped around his shoulders. Instantly his eyes were drawn to her face, and then analyzed the womanly curves that presented themselves so readily.
"Antoinette?" he asked in amazement.
"Shhh." She said slowly. He was staring at the low neckline of her nightgown, and was trying in vain to pull his eyes away. "Do not turn your gaze." She said calmly. "For I love you."
She walked towards him and gave him a rapturous kiss, and he kissed her back with the same fervor. She said nothing, but gestured silently with her eyes towards the bedroom. Erik nodded, and let his hands run down to her waist.
"First," he muttered. "We must dance."
She sighed, and began to dance with him, as he feverishly kissed her neck. She laughed a little, and smiled lightly. He looked at her with eyes pleading and darkness seeped from them. She said nothing in return, and retreated to the bedroom. With a joyful laugh he pushed her down on the bed, and undid the buttons of her nightgown with skill and precision. Soon she was half-naked on the bed, and he kissed each piece of exposed skin with renewed desire. She in turn kissed his face and neck, taking the mask off with a flourish. Instinctively he reached for it, but with a calm hand she guided his hand away, back to the lower back of her dress.
"I want to see you, Erik." She said firmly. "Do not hide from me."
He nodded, and continued to undress her, Giry moaning with pleasure.
"Erik," she cooed softly. "Erik."
"No words." He said slowly, "I love you."
She nodded, and Erik let her head rest languidly on the pillows. He undressed before her, and she admired the view.
"How could I have been so nervous?" she murmured quietly. "I love him."
He was naked before her, and she smiled.
"Come, Erik." She whispered. "Let the dream descend. I love you."
"I shall show you the music of the night." He whispered, kissing her breasts with relish. She guided his lips towards her face, and their lips met with rapture.
"No going back." He said firmly. "Sweet seduction, is at last, mine."
"How long shall we wait until we're one?" she asked.
"Not very long." He replied with desire.
And with feverish passion they began to make love into the deep and quiet hours of the night.
A/N: So, did you like? I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, but probably would have had more if my sister wasn't pestering me saying how much she hates fanfiction.