Disclaimer: I don't own Erik, Madame Giry, or Christine's dressing room, though that would be awesome. I merely own Danielle.

A/N: I said that I wouldn't update again until I got ten more reviews. I got five, which is more than I have gotten on any single chapter before, so I'll compromise. This is Christmas, after all. So, Merry Christmas to everyone who is reading this story and to my five reviewers to whom I dedicate this chapter: Twinkle22, Ameonna, Alexandria Aminta Aurelius and Artemis Amenia Aurelnius, phantomofthemsical, and lady-demacabre.

Chapter Seven: On Salvation

Danielle

Danielle started her lessons with Orpheus, as he called himself, the next day. He had started off by enumerating all of the things she did wrong when she sang, followed by a much shorter list of all the things she did right. His main goal was to improve her control. Her voice, he said, seemed to have a mind of its own.

Orpheus started her on several new warm-up exercises because, he claimed, the ones she used already were terrible and a complete waste of time. He also gave her a few simple pieces for her to master before switching to something difficult. All of the pieces, she noted, were extremely melancholy.

Once he was gone, Danielle would contemplate her strange teacher. Why did he wear that mask? And of all things, why a half-mask? Why did he only give her heart-breaking songs to learn? Why did he refuse to tell her his name? Why did he occasionally look around the room with great despair and pain in his eyes when he thought she wasn't watching?

Danielle could only assume that there was something about the Phantom's face that he was desperate to hide. She couldn't possibly see why he only wanted to cover half of his face. Wouldn't one half be as easy to recognize as both? As for the room they were in, Danielle wondered if one of its previous occupants had meant something to him. In that case, apparently things had not turned out well. Of course, she wasn't about to ask her teacher for answers to any of her burning questions. Somehow she didn't think he would like to answer.

A few days into their lessons, her teacher had begun to correct her posture and would constantly tell her to sing from her diaphragm. When he said this, he would get up from the piano, which had been mysteriously tuned when she arrived for her first lesson, and would grip her shoulders with his hands (which Danielle noticed were very strong), then would pull them back to make her stand up straighter. Sometimes, he would put one hand over her abdomen and make her sing a cappella to check that she was doing it correctly. Then when he had reassured himself, he would sit down again and tell her to sing it just like that from then on.

Danielle thought that all of this was rather redundant because he only made her stand up a fraction of an inch straighter and she never changed her technique when he felt her diaphragm. She began to wonder if this was merely a pretense for touching her. She even went so far as to playfully accuse him of this after a couple of weeks of lessons.

"I do not only do that to touch you," her teacher protested. "It is very important that you have proper posture and that you learn the correct techniques. And we'll have no more insinuations to the contrary." Despite this angry declaration, she thought she saw a shadow of a smile flit across his face as he walked around her and adjusted her shoulders, lingering a little longer than was necessary. Danielle could have sworn she heard him sniff her hair. What an odd man!

Regardless of this (and sometimes she wondered if it was because of it), Danielle soon began to feel more comfortable around her teacher. At first she had been a little afraid of him, but less than a month after her lessons had started, she found herself looking forward to these daily visits. She even laughed gleefully when he, one morning, tried to impress her with his remarkable ventriloquism abilities as she made a brave attempt to continue singing. First it sounded like he was whispering in her ear, then it would sound as if he was standing in the far corner of the room, and finally his voice hovered above her near the ceiling. The Phantom, of course, didn't move his lips at all.

Orpheus finally exclaimed, his voice in his throat again, "What, may I ask, are you laughing at?"

This was asked so seriously that Danielle cracked up completely, while he looked on in mock-annoyance. They resumed the lesson only after her laughter was under control, though the smile it brought to her face refused to leave.

After this particular lesson, Danielle ran into Madame Giry, the ballet mistress, whom she held in high esteem. They had just exchanged "Good afternoons," when Madame Giry said unexpectedly, "Do you like your new teacher?"

Danielle, caught off guard, replied, "Yes, I do. How did you know about him?"

"I'm a friend," she said mysteriously. "I'm glad you two are getting along well."

Without waiting for a response, Madame Giry continued on her way. Danielle marveled at this new information. Well, at least now she knew what the Phantom had meant when he said he had good "sources" within the Opera. He had the most intelligent ally the Populaire had to offer.

Erik

Erik became accustomed to haunting Marie Giry's quarters. The subject they discussed most often was Danielle. He didn't feel quite comfortable about asking Danielle personal questions, so he just asked Marie, whom she seemed to like.

On one occasion, Erik had asked Marie why Danielle never seemed interested in the actors. Marie said, "I suppose it's because she wants love, and she doesn't think that any of the actors can give her that. Danielle thinks that they are simply immature boys, who are incapable of appreciating a woman, yet. She won't settle for anyone who doesn't truly love her."

"Good," he murmured to himself, lost in his thoughts.

"But she may not necessarily fall in love with the first man who loves her."

"We've had this discussion before, I don't have feelings for the girl," he retorted wearily.

"I don't believe you for a minute."

"Neither do I," Erik admitted. "Marie, do you think there is any chance at all that she could care for me?"

"I'm not sure, Erik. If you behave, you might just have a chance," she told him with a small smile.

"She could save me, Marie. I know I would be a fool to try again with her, but I have to believe that there is hope for me, wretched, repulsive monster that I am. I need a friend. But what right do I have to so much as speak to her? She's beautiful, talented, intelligent, and kind. I don't deserve to be near something as pure as Danielle," he said, sounding more guilty and miserable than Marie had ever heard him, and though he believed that he was fooling her with his charade that he didn't want her love, Marie knew Erik's heart.

"Erik, if there is any woman on this earth who can love you, Danielle is she. She can look past your face and see the man, the genius, who looks through those eyes. Danielle knows that there is more to a man than how handsome or ugly he is. I know that, at heart, you are really a good man. She is the woman I think most likely to appreciate that."

"But can she accept my past? Can she accept the fact that I'm a murderer? That I kidnapped a woman? That I tried to force that woman to marry me? She'll have to learn the truth, eventually. I don't want to lie to her, Marie, or keep secrets from her. If she decides to give me a chance, I want her to know what she's getting herself into."

"Do you really care for her that much," she asked, astonished that he could be so selfless.

"Since I've begun training her, Danielle has become very dear to me," he answered evasively.

"I asked Danielle a few days ago if she liked her new teacher," Marie said, hoping to gauge his reaction.

"And," he demanded, holding his breath.

"She said that she did."

Marie heard his barely audible sigh of relief. Erik got up to go.

"Erik, try to take things slowly with the girl. She needs time to fall in love."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said noncommittally as he walked out into the corridor.

Danielle

A couple of months after the lessons began, Danielle went to her music room at the regular time, but instead of her teacher, who was always waiting for her, she found a note written in his handwriting. It said,

"My Dear Danae,

Please forgive me for missing this lesson, but it was impossible for me to attend. Please be so good as to meet me here at ten o'clock tonight.

Respectfully yours,

Orpheus

Danielle opened the door to her music room at ten on the dot, but her teacher wasn't there, at least not in body.

"Good evening, Danae," his voice greeted her. "There's something I want to show you."

"What do you want to show me," she asked, playfully suspicious.

"A surprise."

"That was a completely unexpected response," she muttered sardonically. "Where is the surprise, then?"

"Underneath the Opera house," he answered as if he had just given her a clever riddle to solve.

"Underneath—." She couldn't finish her sentence because at that moment the mirror slid away to reveal her teacher standing in a candle-lit stone passageway, leading down into the bowels of the Opera. "Orpheus" reached out a gloved hand, beckoning her to take it. Danielle grasped his hand, and they began their descent.

A/N: Please, tell me if you think the pace is too fast, if there's too much filler, if there's not enough filler, if the story needs more angst, if it needs more fluff, etc. Do I need any more characters? One new character will appear within the next few chapters, and then more will come later on. Not really sure when, though. Anywho! Merry Christmas, my dear friends! May you all get many interesting gifts and plenty of mistletoe!