Disclaimer: I borrowed a small quip from Whose Lair is it Anyway? Emmy Christine's patented Look does not belong to me.

I'm rattled by the changed website. All the different features on fanfiction dot net are bugging me. But oh – I'm rereading the Leroux book for the fifth time! (I'd have read it more often…but I don't own my own copy.)

EriksIngenue: Oh, why would I do that to Erik? Heh. You'll see in this chappie. Remember, the rules state that he's not allowed to throw her into the torture chamber.

The Four Random Ones: Oh wow – my story's good enough to keep you reading when your computer doesn't work? O.o Wow. Oh heh – 'blocking' is a theater term meaning the places actors are supposed to stand, walk, and move during a scene. You have to remember where to go, and what to do with the rest of your body while you stand there. Sorry about that. I guess I shouldn't have assumed everyone knew that. …Oh, well I was having some fun of my own with the imagery. Heheh. Glad you liked it. And I'd be very pleased if you drew that picture. I have a phansite – I could put it on there if you like. And so…who are the other three random ones?

ElfLover: Well, I do love The Mirror. Odd, I'm not big on cliffies. It's Lazy.kender who seems to love them – almost a trademark, those cliffies of hers. Well, I guess not everyone hates those dresses – I'd rather like to wear one mysef. Stop making me jealous or I'll Punjab you.

MetaChi: Thank you, thank you. (bows) Glad you liked the tape player bit – I'd be honored myself if I spotted that in one of your future stories.

Phtmangl1013: Um…actually, I don't know. O.o I never imagined her with an outfit…but then, I never really considered her as 'naked.' You'd have to ask MetaChi about that.

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Erik led her through the dank passage behind the mirror that he had traveled so recently with Christine…it seemed so long ago. Hana seemed totally enraptured with him. She was barely holding onto his hand, but with a grip so firm he knew she didn't want to let go. He turned to glance at her, following submissively behind him. Hana was staring at Erik with an expression reminiscent of Emmy Rossum's emotionless Look – her eyes had gone slack and her mouth was slightly open. Erik sighed. He wasn't quite sure why he had this effect on women.

Abandoning the route into the cellars, Erik took a different turning and headed up a narrow stairwell. Hana didn't seem to have noticed the change of destination. Erik's footsteps and Hana's heels echoed around the empty stone passage, the silence broken only by the drip of water from an unknown source.

Erik led Hana slowly upward in the unbroken quiet.

Until Hana began to sing.

In sleep he sang to me…in dreams he came…

Erik rolled his eyes. Not again…of course she had to let the mood get to her and take over. He couldn't wait until this night was over. He figured he had to keep up the image, both to keep Hana happy and to keep Nadir satisfied. So with a painful sigh, he took up his verse.

Sing once again with me our strange duet…my power over you…grows stronger yet…

Well, that was definitely true. Hana's Look transformed into a Look tinged with a smile of ecstasy – good Lord, were all phangirls like this? He was glad that this was the only one he had to deal with at the moment.

She followed up with the third verse, and they completed the song, Erik only half-heartedly commanding her to sing…leaving out the 'my Angel of Music' phrase entirely. He only had one angel…

Erik cringed at the end…well, she was no Christine. She did not have the voice to hit those notes – he supposed she must be a rather high alto…or a rather low soprano – he wasn't sure. Lucky it was over now…and they had reached their destination.

Hana watched him expectantly, as they emerged into the dying sunlight on the roof of the Opera. Erik sniffed, foul memories called to mind by the place, and he led Hana away from the statue of Apollo.

At the edge of the roof, on the east side where the darkness was deepest, there was a low table set up, lit by candles. Two chairs sat next to it. The table was set with a glass dish covered by a black cloth and a tray of sliced fruits. He figured that if he had to do something with Hana, he might as well get dinner out of it. One rose tied with a black ribbon was laid in the middle of the table – Erik hadn't been able to resist the Phantom cliché.

Erik pulled out a chair and offered it to Hana, who sat dazedly in her seat, staring blindly at the silver table setting before her. Erik swept into his own seat across from her.

The Look didn't leave her face. Erik sighed.

Pulling the cloth off of the glass dish, he offered, "Beef stew, my dear?"

Soupy, fluffy words, that was the ticket…sweet talk…

Nothing like 'affection' to satisfy the daroga…

Except he still got no response from Hana.

What do I have to do, sing it to her? he thought furiously. No way was he going to sing to her about beef stew. Instead, he snapped his fingers in front of her face.

Six times.

At long last, she finally came to her senses.

"Help yourself, my flower," Erik said sweetly, ladling said stew onto her plate. With a wide smile, Hana finally showed some signs of intelligent life within her brain and picked up the fork.

…Erik was a good cook.

Forty minutes later, Erik had already had seconds and polished off his dessert of apple wedges and grapes while Hana worked on her first serving of stew. Erik waited patiently for her to finish, all the while screaming in his head, Get on with it, you snail! Half the time you're missing your mouth with the damned fork!

Deep breaths, be calm…

When she was finished, he whisked away the plate before she could dare to serve herself more. She picked up an apple wedge and nibbled at it, content to simply stare at Erik without making conversation.

Erik, however, had more in mind than simply sitting in silence. He leaned over beside his chair and lifted his violin out of his case. "Ready, now?"

Hana blinked. "For what?"

"To practice. You must learn your role for the opera as soon as possible." He played a scale.

Hana blinked again, and Erik marveled at the mobility she was showing. "You didn't bring me up here for a romantic date?"

"Heaven forbid I willingly arrange a date for you, dear Hana. As long as I must spend time with you, we're going to practice." He sawed a dissonant chord on the violin. "And practice" – another chord – "and practice" – louder this time – "and practice." Hana covered her ears at the sound, and Erik smirked.

"But…but…I haven't got my music with me!" protested Hana, looking for any excuse to preserve the perfect evening.

"Oh, not to worry," he said smoothly, "I took the liberty of bringing it with me." He pulled Hana's rolled up music score from one of the folds of his cloak. Tossing it over the bowl of beef stew, he commanded, "Page one, my dear, we have much to study."

With a sigh, she opened the music to the first page.

"Stand up, Hana, show me that blocking you've been memorizing."

Groaning, she rose and found a position on the concrete floor of the roof, envisioning the stage to help her get her bearings. She began to sing, with Erik's accompaniment. Soon, as she knew he would, he stopped her.

Wow, she thought, a whole verse before I screwed up.

They walked through the entire opera with Erik stopping her periodically to correct her. Once they finished the final scene, it was well past midnight, and Hana was exhausted.

"Can I go back to bed now?" she begged. "I have an actual rehearsal tomorrow, and M. Lefevre will kill me if I mess up."

"And I won't?" Erik raised an eyebrow. "No, mademoiselle, you will remain here until I dismiss you. I suppose with our time frame, we can't expect to bring you up to a perfect performance, but I shall do the best that I can. Once more, from the start of act two."

Hana sang until she thought she had no voice left, in which case Erik finally put away the violin and led her back by his secret passages to her dressing room, where she collapsed on her couch, snuggling with the rose she had swiped from the table. Pleased with both her work and his own, Erik departed the room by the mirror. He could use a little sleep as well.

After all, being a lust object was hard work.

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End of another update! Review – I got some from new people this time – keep them coming!