Et Velle Et Perficere

Disclaimer: Don't own POTO… but I do own Jeremy.

A/N: Thank you, dear reviewers, once again. James might just turn up next chapter though he's not in this one…

Please read and review…

Chapter 9: Her Beauty Made the Bright World Dim…

The next morning, Erik slipped into Christine's room just after six. She was awake but had not gotten up yet. "Erik? What's wrong?" she asked, raising herself up to lean on her elbows.

"What's wrong," he said, kneeling in front of her, "is the way I treated you last night. I was insufferably rude and I apologise. You and your parents are the only people I have ever met who showed me compassion and I threw it back in your face… I'm sorry. Christine… you must understand… I am not sure how to react to you… You are so beautiful and yet you treat me as though I am your equal."

"Didn't Picasso say 'What is beauty, anyway? There's no such thing'?"

"Yes, but his wife said that, if her husband ever met a woman in the street who looked like the women in his paintings, he would fall over in a dead faint. And besides, Pablo Picasso never bore witness to your beauty…" He couldn't help smiling at her and gave a relieved laugh that she was not angry at him, "But, please do not tell me that I look like one of his paintings…"

"You'll do," she said, nonchalantly, after a moment's pause.

Satisfied, Erik got up and sat more comfortably in the chair by the bed. "Perhaps, when you've had your shower and you are dressed, we could go to breakfast together…"

Breakfast, not to mention the time between it and registration, was a quiet affair. Everyone was tired and nobody really wanted it to be the first day yet so no one did anything to disturb the calm…

Erik was nervous that it was his first day with a bunch of people who had known each other for, at the very least, six years… and some, much longer. Thankfully, however, Christine stood by him throughout and he felt better about it because of her. He was so thankful that she was in every one of his classes and had made very sure that he was sitting beside her in each… even in Art when they had been told to sit in alphabetical order, he had pressed the point that, seeing as her parents were currently fostering him, his last name was Daaé at present – a complete lie in every way, of course, but it did the trick… and he felt a slightly perverse thrill at being called Erik Daaé – a thrill that he knew should be reserved for prospective brides who were imagining getting used to their husband's name… However, the downside of sitting next to Christine was that he was also sitting beside a certain Raoul de Chagny… still, it was far preferable to having Christine and Raoul sit together.

Raoul, however, was not particularly pleased about this… he was used to sitting next to Christine and he was not thrilled that this git had wriggled his way between them at every turn. What's more, sitting beside the bastard didn't really do much for his mood.

They had first Friday Mass during third and forth periods, and Erik felt distinctly uncomfortable… Not only was it the first time he had been in a church environment since his mother had taken him years ago, but he was also plagued by the markedly unpleasant presence of Carlotta Sinclair beside him. She had sat down right next to him in the pew, when there were dozens of empty ones around him as few people were in yet, and had squashed right up against his side. He had been saving the space next to him for Christine but had had to inch slowly into that space to try to stop the contact between himself and Carlotta. That, however, meant that, when Christine came to sit down on his other side, she did not have enough room to be comfortable as the edge of the pew jabbed into her side.

"Carlotta, could you move up a bit, please?" Christine asked her.

"It's not my problem if you are too fat to sit there… why don't you just sod off somewhere else? It's not as if you're actually wanted here," Carlotta spat.

Christine's lower lip trembled in such a way that Erik wanted to draw it between his again and kiss her breathless… but he was far too offended by Carlotta and he wanted to break her neck for upsetting Christine.

Seeing an opportunity before anyone else sat down next to them, Erik harshly bumped into Carlotta and slid along the bench to give Christine more room even if that meant having to touch Carlotta in the process. He moved up so much, in fact, that there was too much room for both him and Christine, which he rectified by removing his blazer and folding it up on the seat between him and Carlotta. "If Christine is fat… then what does that make you?" he hissed into her ear.

Erik turned back to Christine and tried to resolve the hurt Carlotta had caused her. "Angel," he whispered, clasping her hand unnoticed between them, "The Angel Christine – for she was beautiful – her beauty made the bright world dim, and everything beside seemed like the fleeting of a shade."

Christine blushed endearingly and whispered back because the chapel was almost full by now. "How is it, that you can make me feel better just by quoting Shelley?" she asked.

"The fact that you know it was Shelley only proves to me how right I am about you and that it would make you feel better. It also confirms that none of these ignorant fools ever quote you poetry… how they are missing out…" His breath tickled her ear and she shivered as Fr. Walters came out of the sacristy and everybody stood.

Break was harder for Erik – Christine left him alone for a while to attend to some things herself and, much as he hated admitting it, he detested being separated from her, even only for fifteen minutes. Lunch was not something he wished to repeat either… it was far too noisy, far too crowded, far too stifling… He had spent all of it trying to ignore everyone and had sat watching a flittermouse flying about the ceiling many metres above their heads until it disappeared through one of the cracks in the corner of the wall. Christine noticed his uneasiness and promised that they could eat lunch in the library from now on if it would make him feel better – if that didn't work, they could always go to the senior rec., but she imagined that would be just as noisy as the canteen.

After lunch, time rolled by more slowly for Erik – he had study hall last two but had already finished his homework in class. He was utterly relieved when at last the final bell of the day sounded and every one of the day students rushed away for the buses. The part-time boarders would also be leaving today as it was Friday and they went home for the weekends. That left Erik at the school with two other boys, five girls and three teachers. At least, he mused, there would be peace…

Slightly later, Erik was sitting down on his bed for a moment's reprieve as he had just gotten in, when Christine burst into the room behind him without knocking. He was surprised but unsure whether she was excited or upset. A long moment of tense silence for Erik passed and Christine hopped down onto the bed next to him.

She waved a piece of paper under his nose. "They're here," she said.

"What are?" he asked, curious.

"My Grade results," she said, handing them to him. "They must have arrived while we were in class. Do you think you could open them again like you did my AS Level results?"

"Of course, Angel," he said as he opened the envelope, quickly pulling out the letter inside. He gave it a quick glance over first, looking for the important words and then looked back up at her before he started speaking again.

"From the Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music… blah, blah, blah… this is to certify that Christine Daaé… blah, blah, blah… sufficient standard… passed her Grade 8 with distinction…" He paused. "You've got it, darling," he laughed happily. "You passed your Grade 8 in singing with distinction. Congratulations…"

She laughed too, ecstatic, and grabbed him for a hug like the last time he had read her results, as she moved to give him a quick chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. "I can't believe I've got my Grade 8…" However, Erik was so excited by his second taste of her, so long had it been since the first, that he involuntarily pulled her back for another, more impassioned, kiss.

He did what he had wanted to do earlier in the chapel and nibbled gently on her bottom lip – she spent so much time biting her lip herself, and he couldn't fault her for that… he very much enjoyed doing so himself; it was the most delectable thing he had ever done, in fact. He placed his hands on the small of her back underneath her blazer and pressed her more fully to him as her hands came up to rest against his chest. It had been at least a fortnight since he had last kissed her and he wanted to do it far more often than that if he were allowed…

That thought reminded him of what he was doing without her consent again, and so, he pulled back from the kiss to look at her. They were both half-kneeling, half-lying on his bed – a fact that did not escape him – and she was now reasonably dishevelled… her eyes were still closed and her lips slightly redder and more swollen than they had been before. He could not help but feel an obscure masculine pride that he had left her breathless… but he was more concerned, though, that he had kissed her again without her permission and he waited for her to give some sort of reaction.

She opened her eyes and they shared a moment of intense silence before she let out a breathy sigh. "Erik…" she whispered as he piled his pillows up and leaned back against them. He looked at her flushed face and her shining eyes and totally misread her feelings again. He hastily got up from the bed and took on a stoic stance.

"Congratulations again, Christine," he said impassively, "I apologise for my behaviour… if you'll excuse me I need to finish up some work…" He opened the door and held it for her but she would not move. "Christine," he gestured to the door, "if you'll excuse me…"

"This is not the time to exercise your stiff upper-lip, Erik… I tire of your inexplicable mood changes."

"Get out," he growled.

"No," she insisted, folding her arms across her chest as she leant back against the wall. "If you expect me to just go after you've taken what you wanted from me then you are mistaken."

"If you don't get out, I'll leave, myself…"

"You do that, child, go pout and have your little strop somewhere else. You're doing nothing for the atmosphere…"

Erik was furious with her but he knew he could not and did not want to hurt her, so he left, slamming the door behind him.

Much later, when Erik had calmed himself down, he returned to his room for the last checks as it was already rapidly nearing nine in the evening. Nevertheless, he did not expect to find Christine still in his room, sleeping on top of his bed, curled up in a ball. She had taken off her shoes but was still in her uniform and had not crawled under the covers. He knew that Mr. Harper-Matthews would be around soon to do the check so he knew he would have to wake her.

"Christine, Angel," he said softly as he nudged her shoulder until she wakened. "Little one, it's nearly nine… you'd better be going before you are caught here…"

Christine had expected to be livid with Erik when he returned but she softened at his tone and the tenderness with which he treated her. She took a moment to regroup herself and yawned into her hand. Erik laughed musically and stroked her hair behind her ear before being surprised by Mr. Harper-Matthews as he came in.

Needless to say, the situation was rather awkward – Christine lying languidly in Erik's bed at nine o'clock at night with all the lights off… him standing over her having just been startled out of stroking her hair. Jeremy was not best pleased…

"What the hell is going on?"

Christine got up and approached him, deciding that she'd better be the one to explain as Jeremy was very obliging when it came to his favourite student. "Sir, I was here earlier to get Erik to open a letter with me, that's all… He left soon after and I must have fallen asleep as he's only just returned. It was my Grade results…" she said innocently, blinking up at him.

"Your Grade results… of course, I got them too. Congratulations are in order, my dear… But this is not a situation I expected to find you in…"

"I swear, sir, nothing debauched happened tonight. You trust me, don't you? You know I would not do such a thing…" she said, blinking up at him ingenuously.

He looked at her guardedly for a moment before admitting that it was not something she would do, at all. "I suppose I shall have to take your word for it but… I don't expect to find a tableau like this again. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, Christine, I'll give you a moment to get your things and I'll come back to take you across to St. Mary's when I've finished – it's dark now and I don't want you going across alone…" he said as he left the room.

Christine was relieved… usually if someone were caught in such a position, they would get a detention or an imposition at the very least – expelled if they were caught in the act, as it were… not that that was an often occurrence… but she had gotten away with it.

"Lord," Erik sighed. "Thank goodness you're so in with the teachers, you anorak," he teased. "We could have been up to our necks in it, but you cannot get into trouble for anything… you're like Teflon."

"Why thank you for comparing me to the non-stick covering of pans," she said dryly. "I have never been flattered so much in all my life."

"One could be called worse…"

"Like fat…" she said as she thought about what Carlotta had said earlier in church.

Erik was worried now – there was not an ounce of fat on her but it could do damaging things to her confidence if she were to believe what that stupid cow had said. "Christine," he said seriously, holding her by the shoulders, "calling you fat… is like saying that Carlotta Sinclair is a distinctly likeable individual. We both know that neither is true… don't we?"

"I suppose…"

Erik was not satisfied… he wanted to make perfectly sure that she knew she did not need to lose any weight. "Christine," he said again, pulling her over to the full-length mirror, "you have the perfect figure… can you tell me truthfully that you can see any imperfections on your body?" When she did not answer he removed her blazer, then lifted her shirttails and jumper in one go so that she could see her midriff. He turned her sideways and placed his hand flat across her stomach pointing out just how thin she was. "Don't let that bitch make you feel unlovely – you are the epitome of perfection and, if you ever feel flawed in any way, I want you to tell me… you know you can tell me anything."

Christine couldn't help herself… "That's not what you thought this afternoon," she said. "You kissed me and thought I wasn't good enough…"

Not sure whether he should be thankful or not as Jeremy walked in and saved him from answering Christine, he dropped his hands from her and her shirt and jumper slid back down before Jeremy saw what they had been doing.

He had, however, noticed her now absent blazer and the fact that her purple shirttails were showing below her jumper. "I don't believe it… I mean, only you would be less ready than when I was here before…" he said dryly. "Especially after I told you to get your things together – that was not code for 'undress', you know…"

"And you," he said, turning on Erik, "you shameless cad… you should not encourage her. I swear, she'll be the death of me yet…"

After Christine had left with Mr. Harper-Matthews, Erik changed quickly and got into the bed his beloved had been sleeping in for most of the evening and was delighted to find that he could smell her scent on his pillows. She was intoxicating even when she was not there with him…

He thought of their kiss again – the second kiss that had not turned out as he'd expected afterwards… he was worried that she would not want him to try again. Perhaps, if he could just be more patient… he resolved not to kiss her again until the time was right. He didn't know when that would be but he hoped fervently that it was soon…

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, October 2005