----A/N: Thanks for all those beautiful reviews! To be honest, I wrote the first chapter in order to write a romance Raoul/Antoinette. Obviously, I created something else, too: Something hilarious? Really? Oh! Well, as long as you have fun and I can keep on bashing Christine:-) This one is not as funny as the last one, I just needed to write more about Raoul and Madame.

----Summary: When Raoul gets to the Opera, he doesn't remember Christine. He lays his eyes upon somebody else. Christine pouts. Madame is confused. C. gets on Erik's nerves. How he tries to get rid of her. DramaParody RaoulAntoinette

---Disclaimer: I do not own POTO...

---Claimer: .. but I own the blonde, big-boobed ballerina! This chapter you'll find out her name! Hua hua hua! If you want to have her, just take her… I don't fancy her, anyway.

---------------------------------Special Thanks to Queen-Chick, Incapability, MadameGiryMiranda, and last, but not least Meg Giry!

Chapter Four - If you admit it or not

It was his aura…this certain something surrounding him. Was it his aftershave? Was it his gay smile? None of these things ever used to cause Antoinette Giry to fall for a man. She was always able to resist some smile, some smell, but that man had something bringing her down to her knees. It was a miracle, yet it happened. It was unbelievable.

Although she had fallen in love with men before, this time it was vulgar, raffish, tabooed. Left alone the fact that he acted as if there was nothing to hold him back. He neglected all education, all ethics, every rule that kept society a safe place. And if there was one single cell in Madame Giry that had a mistake, was not unlikable, it was that weak spot on her heart: She would give everything for a man who had courage…especially if that courage had something to do with her. And it had, indeed.

Raoul's courage, Raoul himself had more to do with her than she wanted to admit to herself. She had fallen for him the moment she had seen him standing in the hall, leaning against the wall, staring out of the window. How foolish the thought of it sounded to herself. But deep inside her heart, Antoinette was only a woman like thousands; she wanted to have somebody next to her at night.

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"Erik!"

He didn't open his eyes but kept on snoring out of his open mouth. Christine sat up in the bed and shook him. "Erik, gosh, wake up! Wake up! I've got classes during the week, you know that!"

"Hum?" He opened one eye but closed it half a second later, shocked by the sight. "Christine, your make-up… it's… gone…"

"But I thought you loved the more natural tint!"

"Yeah. But on you, the make-up really looked good." He sighed. Christine stared at him, not understanding what he had meant. "Wait, what, do you mean make-up looks good on me? Or do you…"

"Yes, exactly", he tried to shut her up and turned away. "You know what, I have a headache after yesterday night."

"I'm very angry with you!"

"Why?" He chuckled. "Because I said the make-up thing…?"

"No, I'm talking about yesterday night!"

"Yes, that night was long."

"I mean, you didn't even listen to me! Not even after the sex!"

"I guess I was too drunk."

"You'll be an alcoholic one day." She shrugged. 'If you keep on knocking me out with your talking, then I'll be an alcoholic, indeed', he thought and turned back to her. "Don't you have classes?"

"Uh, wait, Erik! Now I remember why I was so angry! Because we had sex! I told you I wanted to be a virgin!"

"Yup, that's one of the many things you said."

"But Erik, if I want to be a virgin, we need to stop doing this!"

"Right. Clever girl."

She smiled proudly about the compliment. Then, she giggled. "I know, I'm getting better and better. This is why I'll be with Raoul one day!"

"Okay, honey, you know what?" Erik sat up and looked around. "You had better not come down here until you're done with your Vicomte-thing."

"But Erik, I thought we were friends! That would mean after our wedding?"

"Yes", he said patiently, "we are, but look, you'll have a lot of things to do when you want to get your Raoul. So, I just think you should invest your time better."

"In make-up?" She giggled again. "He'd like it, huh?"

'Or a brain-check', the Phantom thought and stood up, feeling his body ache.

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Christine was late for classes again. When she opened the door to the rehearsal room, all the other ballerinas were already on their pointes. She hurried up putting hers on.

"Mademoiselle Daae," Giry's voice sounded through the hall. The pianist stopped playing and the girls exchanged haggard looks. "You are late again."

"Yes", she apologized. "I'm sorry."

"That's not enough" Madame Giry approached her. "Especially after your performance, which became dust, you should take care. What would Monsieur Le Vicomte think, if he found out that you're not careful after he was so nice to you?"

"He'd be appalled", the Vicomte said. Antoinette turned around, her eyes wide with shock. Only Christine's eyes were wider.

"Good morning", she said, "I didn't know you would -"

"Well, you weren't here yesterday morning, so I thought I'd come back." He closed the door behind him and sat down on a chair. "Please, don't feel disturbed."

"I won't", Madame said but thought differently. 'Darn it, why didn't I think up something for today?' "Christine, could you please show us your improved attitude?"

Christine shivered. "Oui", she said and stepped forward. "Which one?"

"The improved one", Madame repeated.

Christine breathed in and did her attitude, her improved attitude. Which was, Madame was honest to herself, not improved at all. Left alone that her arms swung around like dead chicken wings. "Maxime", Madame Giry turned to the blonde, big-breasted ballerina whose name was not Meg, "could you tell me what she did wrong?"

"Yes", Maxime, who was big-breasted, stepped forward, "her arms were not supported from her chest well enough. And her turnout was bad. I think she didn't stretch her legs, too."

Madame Giry nodded and sighed.

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The Phantom stepped back from the rehearsal room door. He chuckled hard and was afraid he could choke himself by that. 'God, and I hoped she'd be mine,' he thought and walked back down to his catacombs. 'She's just a … no word should be dishonored by being compared to her.' He chuckled again. 'Now I just need to throw her into this gay boy's arms and everything will turn out all right. I guess Madame Giry won't like it. I don't care as long as her make-up is on his pillow and not on mine.'

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Meg stayed after class. She loved additional work and wanted to improve her working leg, of course not without the help of her mother. To Raoul, this additional hour was a gift. He could look at Madame without any shame because Meg was too concentrated to mind his looks. Or at least he thought so. Although Madame Giry was nervous and full of sweat, she managed to help her daughter very well. So she pulled Meg's leg higher and higher, not stopping to comment her work. "Look at that turnout, Meg", she kept going, ignoring Raoul's eyes on her.

He just sat on his chair and watched. Satisfied. Lucky. The happiest man on earth. Madame was a good teacher. No mistake was unseen. She was strict and needed to be. 'Oh, my little empire is building up. It'll be so grand. Everyone will be jealous of us. The leader of the Opera, Le Vicomte, and his wife, the ballet teacher.' And he knew she'd say yes one day.

Because she had this little something in her eyes when she looked away. This excitement. Her nervous fingers shook when he came closer. And Raoul had good eyes nothing passed them. And Madame? She bathed in safety. She didn't expect Raoul to be clever. She didn't know he had fast brains and good eyes. She didn't want to know. 'Taboo', she thought, 'taboo…'

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"Mom? What was that?"

"What?" Madame Giry sat down on her bed and got rid of her shoes.

"He touched your hand!"

"And?" She seemed not to care. What a good actress she was.

"But Mom, he asked you out for dinner!"

"No, he didn't. We just need to talk about the Opera."

"While eating?"

"Why not?"

"But Mom! I tell you Christine loves him!" Meg couldn't really believe what she had just said.

"Love? Christine knows what love is? Yes, she would, if it was the newest brand of lipstick." Madame combed her hair. "She's at the end of her career. Did you see her in class today?"

"She's fallen in love. And I think she won't be thrilled that he's going out with you."

"He's not", Madame claimed. "Can you put that in mind? I'm not going out with him. We're only discussing our future."

"Your future? The Vicomte's and yours?"

"The Opera's future, Meg", she said and put off her clothes to dress in something warmer. "It's nothing, Meg", she claimed again.

"Okay. If you say so."

"I do."