A/N: Y'all are getting spoiled; four updates in five days? Any other author would cower at the thought. (Alright, okay, I admit it... I've already written the first seven chapters, and I'm just biding my time with posting them. Nifty, eh?LOL.) This chapter's a bit on the short side, but hey, it's also the shortest track on the soundtrack, so...

Disclaimer: No... sadly, none of 'em are mine. Obviously. ;)

She waited patiently for me, her hands folded in her lap as she knelt before the picture of her father. I smiled at the sight of her; my pretty little Christine had blossomed into a beautiful young woman seemingly overnight. It seemed that just yesterday I had first discovered her alone and shivering in the underground chapel, but in harsh reality, ten sweet years had passed since that fateful night, and now my intelligent, talented young pupil was the emerging star of the Opera Populaire.

My heart had swelled with pride during her performance (though I was most displeased with that irksome vicomte, who had stolen my seat during her debut at the Opera). Her voice had enchanted the pleasantly surprised audience; the sweet melody had never before been sung with such grace... the tune still echoed in my head, as it would for the rest of my life:

Think of me,

Think of me fondly

When we've said goodbye

Remember me

Once in awhile

Please promise me you'll try

What a superfluous request it had been! How could anyone forget that angelic voice? Indeed, now all of Paris buzzed excitedly with a new name: Christine Daaé was the next prima donna, they exclaimed excitedly. Already I had counted four invitations on her desk to sing at private ceremonies, with seals of those as elite as the Duke de Montclaire and the Countess Malina DuPont. Word around the Opera house was that Christine would soon replace La Carlotta as lead soprano; it was about time that those imbosels got rid of that horrid excuse for an Italian opera singer! La Carlotta did not sing; she screeched. Buquet was next on my list to go; he and I kept bumping into one another in chance encounters, and his stories grew more grotesque and erotic by the day. He had worked the youngest ballerinas into quite a fit; now they traveled in clusters, glancing as feverishly over their shoulders as Meg Giry had done as a child.

I shook my head to rid myself of the thought, and turned my focus from the horrified expressions on the little ballerinas' faces to the patient, expectant one on that of my brilliant Christine. I couldn't keep a smile from my face upon looking at her; she had done very well indeed.

Brava, brava, bravisima... I sang. She grinned, a blush creeping up into her lovely cheeks, and lowered her eyes humbly. She opened her mouth to speak, but another voice, higher-pitched and less elegant, rang out in its stead.

"Christine? Christine?"

Christine... I echoed, the name dripping with a fond, loving admiration. Her grin broadened, but she turned her attention to the other's voice.

I stifled an exasperated sigh as Meg Giry stepped lightly into the room, grinning ear to ear. She dropped to her knees beside her friend, no longer afraid of the dark or of the mysterious Opera Ghost that supposedly inhabited it. Meg, too, had grown into a pretty young lady- though, of course, not nearly as pretty as Christine. I supposed that, had I the time to train her as well, she would have rivaled her voice.

But I was much too preoccupied with Christine's career at the moment to worry about such things.

I listened as my young pupil delved into the story of her father's death and final promise, and slowly, silently, climbed down from the ceiling, closing the trap door quietly behind me. So she was finally going to tell Meg of her mysterious tutor...

The thought brought a satisfied smirk to my face. She was not ashamed of me... no, not at all. She adored me, adored her teacher, her Angel of Music. I heard her declare it for the entire opera to hear as she belted the familiar tune,

Angel of Music,

Guide and Guardian,

Grant to me your glory!

Angel of Music,

Hide no longer,

Secret and strange angel!

I hesitated, leaning up pensively against the mossy, damp stone wall. Perhaps, I mused, it was time to finally grant her wish, and let her look upon her Angel for the first time.

My hand crept, unbidden, to the ivory mask once again, as tears of bitter remorse stung the backs of my eyes. I blinked them away angrily, flung my cloak out behind me, and strode briskly down to my house on the lake. Once there, I tore the crimson velvet curtain away from the mirror by my organ, and stared for a long time at my reflection.

Well... at least one half of my face was tolerable. I would make sure that it would be the only half she saw of it. I could not bear the thought of those beautiful brown eyes going wide in horror at the sight of this abhorrent, revolting, hideous deformity ... and besides, there was no such thing as an ugly angel.

Satisfied with my plan and suddenly restless with anticipation, I began to stack and organize the papers that cluttered my workspace, and tinker with the controls to the candles that protruded vertically from the lake. There was so much to do, and so little time... for the first time in my life, I would have company that night.