Enjoy!

Chapter 7

When the first day of schooling at the Conservatoire was at last finished, it was nearing suppertime. Sophie came to get Christine - as her father was currently at the Paris Opera - and Christine was having tremendous difficulty not bounding all the way home, leaving the servant in her wake. But the prospect of Sophie complaining to Gustave that she ran ahead against both of their wishes filled her with dread, and she kept her speed in check.

But, good Lord, was it achingly hard to do so.

Once she was at last in the townhouse, though, she nearly tore the floorboards up barreling into the parlor. "Erik!"

But he wasn't there.

So she ran up the steps, and when she was halfway up, she could hear violin music somewhere beyond. There. Christine made her way with haste to his bedroom - from which the music was indeed emanating - and knocked. "Erik? Erik, open please! I have so much to tell you!"

The music, which really was actually quite good, abruptly stopped. The door opened, and Erik stood there with a small smile on his face. "You're back."

"I am!" She bounced on the tips of her toes. "May I come in, Erik?"

"Yes." He let her in, and she immediately went to sit in the armchair. "Oh, Erik! It was wonderful!"

"You enjoyed it, then?" He sat on his bed. "You liked it."

"Yes! Oh, yes! I didn't think I would, I really didn't - you remember how I worried. But it was splendid! The instructor, Mme. Gagnon, was just the sweetest. So patient and warm; she has all these freckles on her face and a lovely wide smile. And I made a friend! Just like you said."

The pleasant expression on his face froze as he stared at her. "Oh?"

"Yes! Her name is Meg! Meg Giry - she's the daughter of the ballet director at the Paris Opera House."

"And you're friends with her?"

Christine's smile faltered. "Yes. Erik, why do you sound so worried?"

"I'm not," he said quickly. "I am glad you have made a friend."

Christine waited a few seconds. "But, something is worrying you. I can hear it in your voice."

He bit his lower lip. "It's only...well, you have a new friend now."

"Yes."

"Another girl."

"Yes."

"And someone who shares a common activity with you."

She nodded. "Yes. But?"

"But...but nothing. It's just that I'm sure you will want to spend much more time with her."

She understood. "Oh - Erik, no, I am not planning on spending any less time with you."

He stared at her.

"Meg is only a school friend," she continued. "I am planning on only seeing her when I am at school."

"And what if she wants to spend time with you outside of school?"

"Then she will have to accept that you are coming along too, and we can all be friends together."

"What if she doesn't like me?"

Christine crossed her arms. "Well, then I will no longer like her!"

Erik finally smiled. "If she wants to spend time with just you, and that is something you want, then I will be all right with that, as long as..." He faltered.

"As long as what?"

"As long as we can still read together at night," he finally said, his visible cheek going pink. "I love reading together just before bed. I like that it's the last thing I do before I sleep. I haven't slept easily in years - ever since we started reading together, I sleep through the night."

A warmth spread from Christine's chest down to the very tips of her toes. "Oh, Erik, of course we will still read together! We will do so many things together. No one will get in the way of that."

He looked at her. "Really?"

"Really."

Christine stayed true to her word. Erik was her best friend, and as the years passed, they only became closer. They were a wonderful influence on one another - at least, they thought so. The staff of the house, however, frankly disagreed.

For example, two years after Erik's arrival, the two of them decided to make a "potion" in the kitchen. They had both just finished reading a French translation of "Macbeth" - a difficult read for twelve-year-old Christine, even translated into French, but which thirteen-year-old Erik flew through with no problems - and they were quite inspired by the Wayward Sisters.

They were determined to create a potion that might make them live forever, so that they never had to leave each other's side. They trusted each other completely.

Only one thing remained secret between them.

Erik's face. What lay behind the mask.

She'd never asked. Her father had told her not to. And anytime she came close to asking, skirting around the question by merely mentioning the mask, Erik froze and asked to be excused to another room for several minutes, or he would rapidly change the subject, a warning in his eyes. Not wanting to ruin the beautiful thing between them, she refrained from asking.

Besides, she thought, if he wanted to show her...he would.

And he didn't.

That was that.

Though, the fact that he didn't want to show her made her insides clench. She couldn't deny that as the months turned into years of knowing her, and as she was blossoming slowly into a woman, she started to feel certain things toward Erik that she didn't feel for anyone else...and that she couldn't quite place, besides. All she knew for certain was that when he smiled at her, she could focus on nothing else, and all she wanted to do was spend time with him. All she wanted was for him to be happy. To live with him forever.

Thus, that damned potion.

They made an absolute mess of the kitchen - and made a strange concoction of sugar, butter, chicken broth, and blue feathers they found outside (which Christine insisted were the keys to a potion of youth). They weren't planning on eating the potion, of course. But it was the very imaginings of making a magic brew that was the thrill. With Erik, everything was magic. Listening to him play violin, talking about the journeys their books went on...being with him was like travelling to another world.

Christine thought it was lovely.

Cook didn't think it was lovely.

Neither did Sophie.

They complained straight away to Gustave when they saw the mess in the kitchen. But when her father asked whose idea it was, they both claimed it was theirs. It was actually Christine's...but that was Erik's nature. He would have taken fifteen lashes on his bare back, over seeing her have her palm hit with a switch. Selflessness - it was something she adored about him.

The both of them were sent to bed without supper, since they thought it was a good idea to waste food. But that was fine. Christine merely read, comforted by the fact that she knew Erik was doing the same only a few walls away.