A/N: It's only been two days into my new job and already I'm so late. By the time I manage to get online it's already 9pm, and I have to get ready for bed by 10.30 because I wake up at around 6.30 in the morning. It's going to be hectic for sure!

Thank you to new followers/favourites: CupidsArrow17 & ChibiChesire; I really appreciate it, and it lets me know people actually like how the story's going so far! (:

Erik's Guest: Happy New Year! I'm glad you like the story thus far, I hope it'll continue to be interesting for you!

Masked Man 2: You flatter me :') Thank you so much for your reviews every week, they mean so much to me ;_;

icanhearthedrums: 3

This week's chapter is something frivolous and ridiculous, and must be quite possibly the most ludicrous thing I've ever thought of (as can be seen by the title). I had to find a way for them to meet again... and honestly... I love chocolate peppermints.

Enjoy!

Chapter 10: Chocolate Peppermints

Paris, 1893

Amélie knew that something was going on with Madame Giry and the Opera Ghost. She had asked Madame Giry casually about it several times, but each time, had been rebuffed severely, with the warning not to dwell on such matters any longer. Amélie felt a little surprised that Madame had acted so harshly, since everybody had been curious about the opera house's new ghost, not just Amélie alone, and this further cemented her suspicions about Madame Giry's real involvement with the Opera Ghost. How am I to stop dwelling on it if it is all I hear about these days?

And, as if right on cue, there came a loud shriek from somewhere in the opera house, and a ballet rat rushed past Amélie, screaming that she had seen the ghost. When a stagehand emerged from the shadows with a white sheet over his shoulders, grinning triumphantly, Amélie sighed. It seemed that all that happened these days in the opera house were attributed to the ghost. If a hairpin or ribbon went missing, the ballet rats shrieked hysterically and said that the ghost had stolen their belongings as a threat to them. If a certain set was moved or painted wrongly, the ghost was blamed for it, even though Amélie was quite sure that most of such happenings had occurred only because many of the stagehands and set painters were too drunk most of the time to move or paint the set pieces properly, and some of the ballet rats were really just too scatterbrained.

Amélie wondered what all the big fuss about the ghost was, really. Though many of the ballet rats and chorus girls dramatically moaned that the ghost was upon them when they found yet another of their belongings lost due to their own absentmindedness, Amélie doubted that he could pose any serious harm to any of them. All that had occurred since he had started haunting the opera house was that the dreadful third trombone who always played off key had been replaced, and a brilliant new trombonist brought in, much to Reyer's immense gratitude. Even La Carlotta had been a little more subdued in her tantrums, especially after the last backdrop had crashed down onto a spot she had just vacated moments ago. It all seemed a good thing that the opera ghost had chosen to haunt this opera house. Perhaps for once we could go through a rehearsal without having to wince whenever the trombonist hits the wrong note or whenever La Carlotta decides to throw another diva fit.

Amélie entered the practice room, noticing Madame Giry standing to one side, seemingly preoccupied with her thoughts. Madame Giry was always distracted recently since the talk about the ghost started, yet another piece of evidence in Amélie's mind that she was connected to the Opera Ghost somehow. Never one to be deterred by rejection, Amélie stepped forward boldly, wanting to ask Madame Giry about the ghost again.

"Madame?"

Madame Giry looked up with an expression of surprise, before she quickly schooled her features again into its usual stern demeanour. She raised an eyebrow questioningly, and Amélie took this as an encouragement to proceed.

"Madame, you know the Opera Ghost, don't you?"

At once, Madame Giry's face contorted into that familiar scowl that Amélie had seen so many times, and she banged her cane on the floor. "Amélie-Rose! How many times do you want me to tell you that I know nothing about this so-called ghost, and you of all people should know me well enough to know that I simply do not believe in ghosts."

"But madame…" Amélie began, but stopped when she saw the murderous glare in Madame Giry's eyes. She sighed. "Madame, allow me this one question. You said that you 'do not believe in ghosts'. Am I right to say that the so-called Opera Ghost is simply not a ghost at all, then?"

Madame Giry's fierce expression faltered for a moment, so quickly that Amélie might not have caught it if she had not been looking out for it. Inwardly, she suppressed a smirk in triumph. So I was right. Madame Giry frowned.

"I am only saying this, Amélie, in the hopes that you will stop pestering me about it, and because I feel that I can trust you. Yes, the Opera Ghost is a flesh and blood man just like any of us. However, you will not reveal this information to anybody at all, do you understand me? There is a lot more at risk than your darned curiousity."

Amélie nodded dutifully, but inside she was secretly happy that Madame Giry had confirmed her suspicions. Every little bit of information she managed to glean about the Opera Ghost brought her one step closer to discovering who he really was. Amélie did not for one moment believe that a ghost had taken up to haunting the opera house. She had been there all her life, and had never heard so much as a squeak about any sort of ghost, and hence was less inclined to believe that a ghost had suddenly appeared.

No, Amélie knew that there was more to it than a simple ghost story, especially since the ghost had specially pinpointed Madame Giry to be his helper and she had told Debienne that she would take on the job. In all her years of knowing Madame Giry, Amélie had never known Madame Giry to be forced to do something that she did not want to. The fact that she had so willingly agreed to be the ghost's messenger implied that Madame Giry perhaps, knew the ghost.

If anything, Amélie made it her mission to find out who this Opera Ghost was, and what he was doing haunting an opera house when he was far from dead.

Her opportunity came only too soon.

XXXXX

"Amélie, will you do me a favour?"

"Oh, of course, madame. What is it?" Amélie was slightly surprised, for Madame Giry never asked for favours from anyone. Madame Giry handed a long piece of parchment over to her, along with a large wicker basket.

"I need you to do some shopping for me, because it's rather urgent. The younger ballet rats need my attention immediately for their newest dance, so even though I'd really rather go by myself, I am unable to leave. You are able to do this for me, yes?"

Amélie nodded as she looked at the list of parchment, scanning through it briefly. It was filled with thin, spidery writing in black ink, and she was slightly intrigued as this was not Madame Giry's handwriting. Roasted chicken, salted meat, any kind of vegetable, a loaf of bread, biscuits, Russian tea, manuscript paper, quills and ink, shaving soap… wait, shaving soap?

She looked up at Madame Giry curiously, only to be met with a stern stare. "Ask no questions, Amélie, for I cannot answer them anyway." She warned. "I am only asking you to do this for me because I know I can trust you not to let anyone know. Is that very clear?"

Amélie sighed. Ever since Madame Giry had revealed the truth about the ghost being a real man, she had pestered Madame Giry about the subject many times before, and each time she had received the same curt reply from Madame Giry. "All right. What will I do with the goods?"

"Just leave them in Box Five, and he will collect them for himself during dinner time when nobody is about. You will return after dinner to bring the basket back for me. Here is ten extra francs on top of the money needed for the shopping, Amélie, spend it on something for yourself." Madame Giry pressed the money into Amélie's hand in a rare show of generosity, and Amélie's eyes lit up happily, all thoughts of the Opera Ghost forgotten.

"Thank you, madame! I won't be long!" Hooking the basket over her arm, she dashed back to her dormitory room to change into a suitable walking dress before heading off to the shops.

XXXXX

A very long shopping trip later, Amélie hefted the basket up again upon her arm, where it kept sliding down repeatedly despite her attempts. She groaned at the weight of the basket, before consulting the list held tightly in her other hand. There was only the shaving soap left, so Amélie stopped by the grocer's to ask for it.

"Why, if it isn't little Amélie!" The grocer said jovially. "What's this you want? Shaving soap, eh? For a new beau of yours?" He winked conspiratorially.

Amélie gaped at him. "Of course not, monsieur! It's… it's for a stagehand who asked me to help him buy it on my way to the shops." She said lamely, knowing how strange her reason sounded. What reason can I give, anyway? 'Oh no, the Opera Ghost asked me to buy it for him, and no, I have no idea why a ghost would need shaving soap.'

The grocer chuckled, and passed the soap over to her. "Anything you say, little Amélie. By the way, I heard that Madame Denis over at the sweet shop next door has some new sweets in, and I know how much you like sweets, so I just thought you would like to know, before they get sold out!"

"Oh! I'll have to pop by, then! Thank you for letting me know, monsieur. Though I should really blame you if I grow too fat for my ballet costumes." Amélie grinned cheekily at the grocer, paying him for the soap, before stepping out of the shop and heading to the sweet shop next door.

The brightly coloured displays of sweets in the shop never failed to make Amélie's mouth water. She breathed in deeply, inhaling the rich scent of dark chocolate, and the sugary sweetness of butterscotch taffy. Madame Giry was always very strict about her ballet rats' diets, and forbid them from overindulgence in sweetmeats. It was only on a rare occasion that they would be able to partake in the sweet treats that so many of them loved.

"Good day, Madame Denis." Amélie greeted the plump, homely lady over the counter. "The grocer mentioned you had some new sweets in!"

Madame Denis was a middle-aged woman with her blonde hair pulled back in a bun, wearing a simple cornflower blue dress with a white apron over it. She ran the shop with her husband, who was often in the kitchen in the back working on new sweet creations. They were both a rather jolly couple, who was always pleased to introduce Amélie to new sweets and occasionally, treat her to a new, unreleased creation of Monsieur Denis', free of charge.

"Hello, Amélie. I believe we just made up a batch of your favourite chocolate peppermints yesterday. Would you like some?" She asked, her eyes twinkling. She laughed when Amélie nodded enthusiastically.

"May I have five francs worth of chocolate peppermints, madame?"

"I'll throw in an extra franc of them free of charge, but be sure not to tell Madame Giry, or she will have my head the next time she comes down to the shops!" Madame Denis joked, weighing out the chocolate mints.

A thought suddenly occurred to Amélie. "Oh, madame! Do you think you could put that extra franc's worth of chocolate peppermints into a separate bag?"

Amélie walked out of the sweet shop, whistling happily, her basket now containing the new additions of two paper bags of chocolate mints, twisted shut. She quickly made her way back to the opera house.

XXXXX

When Amélie got back to the opera house, most of the ballet rats had already headed down for dinner, and she hurriedly returned to her room. Opening a drawer in the chest of drawers beside her bed, she stashed her remaining five francs, and the mints inside to enjoy later, but not before popping one into her mouth first, rolling it about her tongue and delighting in the taste of the smooth, sweet chocolate. She reached inside her drawer for a writing pad, and tore off a sheet, hastily scribbling a note onto it. Then, tucking the note into the basket, she went off in search of Box Five.

Amélie stepped into Box Five, after making sure that nobody had been around to see her enter. The plush carpeting beneath her feet felt delightful, and the thick red velvet curtains surrounding the walls of the box made her feel extremely grand. Oh, what would it be like to watch a production from a box!

She placed the basket carefully on one of the seats in the box, making sure that the note was visible, and then left the box, rubbing her growling stomach and wondering what was for dinner.

XXXXX

The corridors leading to the boxes were thankfully, empty and quiet, as most of the employees were busy having their dinner. Erik made his way through the corridors, keeping as quiet as he could. He had a secret passage way through a pillar in the box, but it was rather cramped, and he preferred not to use it unless he had no other choice.

Entering Box Five, he shut the door silently behind him and headed toward the large basket waiting for him on the seat, marveling at Antoinette's efficiency at running the large ballet de corps with an iron fist, and helping him to fetch his groceries each week. He noticed the scrap of paper sticking out of the basket, and picked it up curiously. Antoinette had never seen fit to send him a message with his weekly groceries before.

Unfolding the paper revealed not Antoinette's blocky, neat letters, but rather a girlish, loopy script. The note was short, but Erik's eyes widened at its incredulity.

To Monsieur Le Fantôme

I hope you enjoy chocolate peppermints; they are my favourite sweets.

Amélie

Erik stared at the note blankly for a few moments. Antoinette sent her to get the groceries? She told her who I was? Is this… a gift? What in the world are chocolate peppermints?

He decided that Amélie probably had no idea who he was yet, since he had made Antoinette promise not to tell her, and he doubted that Antoinette would break her promise. He rifled through the basket, searching for the aforementioned peppermints, and found a little white paper bag with a sweet shop's name stamped on it. He unscrewed the top curiously, and the smell of chocolate wafted up his nose. His stomach growled subconsciously, and he remembered that he had not bothered to eat anything today yet. Gingerly, he reached inside the sticky waxed paper bag, and withdrew a chocolate peppermint, popping it into his mouth.

It was good. Erik almost laughed at the thought of himself, the feared Opera Ghost, standing in Box Five and eating chocolate peppermints bought by a ballet rat. He wondered why she had bothered to leave the chocolate peppermints, as she could not have possibly guessed that the Opera Ghost was one and the same with her childhood masked friend.

XXXXX

When Amélie crept back up to Box Five after dinner, she found the basket sitting in the exact same seat as she had left it. Walking over, she picked it up, but realized that there was a folded piece of parchment in it, and a beautiful dark red rose. It's velvety petals were fresh and vibrant, and it was beautiful. She hastily grabbed the parchment, almost ripping it in her hurry to unfold it. There was that same spidery script, identical to the one on the shopping list.

I did enjoy the peppermints very much. Thank you, mademoiselle.

Amélie felt a strange warmth rush through her, and she began to giggle almost hysterically. The Opera Ghost actually replied to my letter! He likes peppermints! It was such a ridiculous thought that Amélie had to hold onto the seat to catch her breath from laughing too hard. Grabbing onto the basket, she skipped from the room, the parchment and red rose held tightly in her other hand.

A/N: Please read/review/favourite/follow/let me know that you're reading and liking it! 3