Wow, first I would like to say THANK YOU to all my reviewers. Really, it means so much to me. So much, in fact, that I have enough inspiration to write this chapter and post it today, instead of next week like I had planned! A kind review means so much to me as an author, and confidence as a person =D Who knew a day on could be so self-improving? =P. On a more(or less, depending) serious note…Madame Giry's husband probably had a proper name in some story, some where, but I'm not going to bother to look it up, so if someone, in their infinite Phantom Wisdom, knows his name…sorry for having it wrong, but it's staying the way it is. Now my note is turning into something close to a letter "Get on with the story already" I know, I know…all I can say is, this chapter was a LOT of fun to write, largely due to Meg's cute-ness. Well, please leave a little review after reading. And thank you again

She heard nothing for the rest of the night, and she didn't have the courage to go look in the attic to see if he had already…settled in. The strangeness of the situation finally slipped past the wall of fear, and she gave a laugh, shaking her head.

The phantom of the opera is there, inside my attic…

Well, considering the events in her life thus far…she supposed it fit. Her life was intertwined with the strange, ghostly man, whether she wanted it or not.

Indeed, and which of the two is it?

She shook her head again. It didn't matter. It didn't. Then a question that really did matter popped into her mind—

"What on earth am I going to tell Meg?"

The next morning, Antoinette was roughly woken from her sleep when her bedroom door burst open, hitting the wall with a thud forceful enough shake the mirror on her wall. She sat up, silently but quickly, blinking her eyes as she focused on the figure in the doorway.

"Mother! Are you all right? Did he come? What happened? You aren't hurt, are you?" Meg was breathless and pale. She raced towards her mother as she spoke, then sat on the bed, taking her hands.

"He has left you alone now, hasn't he? He got whatever he wanted?"

Antoinette pulled one of her hands free and laid it on her daughter's mouth.

"Be silent for a moment!" Her firm command stopped the tirade of questions. The blonde girl stared at her with wide eyes, bright with both fear and curiosity. Mostly curiosity, her mother decided ruefully.

"It should be obvious to you that I am unharmed, Meg. He did come, and we…discussed things…" She trailed off. Meg stared at her expectantly for a moment, before shifting slightly forward.

"Yes? You discussed…?"

"Hush." Was there a…sane…way to inform her daughter that the Opera Ghost had taken residence in their attic? Somehow, she didn't think so.

"He did get what he wanted," She muttered, irony running through the words. She saw Meg open her mouth to ask another question, but she spoke over her, forcing herself to state the words calmly and levelly.

"He's staying in our attic. For a while."

Meg's mouth closed with an audible snap. For once in her life, her cheerful, talkative daughter seemed to be at a loss for words. As she waited for her to recover, Antoinette rose from the bed. She had gone to sleep fully dressed, only loosening her corset before she crawled beneath the covers. Somehow, the thought of being only in her dressing gown when he was there—and had the potential to start any sort of fiasco—made her feel too vulnerable. So it was with minimal effort that she prepared herself for the day. Her gown was wrinkled, but it was unlikely anyone who cared would see it.

Still, it was a mark of the way a part of her had fallen, along with the Opera House. Once so reserved and unbending with both her appearance and emotions…and now look at her, only taking a moment to rinse her face before she walked into the kitchen.

And letting a fiend into your house. The house that contains your only child.

I didn't have a choice! She silently argued as she entered the kitchen. Said daughter was on her heels, and Antoinette prepared for another bout of questions.

"Why?"

She stopped, then turned to face Meg.

"Because he asked."

"Asked?"

She heard the doubt in Meg's tone, and felt the corners of her mouth lose their stiffness and turn up slightly.

"Yes. Though I suppose I should make it clear that he asked in the only way he knows how." Her tone was disgruntled.

"Ah…what are you going to do?" Meg's was simply filled with curiosity.

Does the girl have a lick of common sense? Even her father had a stronger sense of caution, the silly man.

Immediately after the thought she berated herself. Leonard had been a kind man, only very, very shallow. Meg wasn't shallow, merely very energetic, and very inquisitive.

She sighed, "I don't know, Meg. Let him stay in the attic, and hopefully never see or hear from him, I suppose…"

"Well he'll need to eat. And use the convenience. And he'll need candles, and such things," Meg's tone was thoughtful.

Of all the things she could have said—it was this? That the Phantom of the Opera would need to use the convenience? Antoinette snorted, then laughed, long and hard. And if there was a note of hysteria in her laughter, she figured she was entitled.

Meg looked slightly alarmed to see her mother showing such emotion, which only made her laugh harder. Finally she made herself stop, and took several deep breaths.

"He probably has his own way to acquire food, dear. He was never provided with such…before." She wasn't going to reply to her other statement. It was indecent.

"But he got money. At least, he did when Monsieur Lefevre owned…it."

Both of them realized that they were hesitant to say the words Opera House aloud. Neither of them wanted to, when there was a chance he was listening. Nothing to remind him of what he had lost.

"He is a grown man, Meg. He'll figure something out." And with that Antoinette walked to the front door, put on her bonnet, and strode out the door, calling behind her, "I am going to post a letter."

Her thoughts were so clouded that Antoinette was already inside the post office before she realized what a bad idea it had been to leave Meg in the house. Alone, or more importantly, potentially not alone.

She raced back to the house, stopping as she opened the door, and listening. She heard no one shouting or screaming.

"Meg?" She called, trying to keep her voice calm as she moved forward, opening the door to her daughter's room.

She wasn't there.

Antoinette raced to the ladder that led into the attic.

"Meg!" She called urgently.

"Mother?" Her daughter's head peeked over the opening at the top of the ladder.

"Come down here at once!" She hissed furiously.

"But he isn't here. I just wanted to bring him some tea and biscuits."

"Tea and"— She broke off incredulously. "Meg Giry, come down here now, or you will not be receiving your tea and biscuits, nor will you leave your room, for a week!"

Her daughter—who must have absolutely nothing in her head but feathers, Antoinette decided—climbed down the ladder.

"I'll leave them up there for him, I suppose," She mumbled as she descended.

"And don't you dare try to fetch them back, young lady. I swear, if you go up there again—ever, for any reason—you will never leave this house, for the rest of your life."

"That would be impossible, seeing as it's very likely I'll live longer than you," Meg muttered rebelliously.

"Not if you continue to do such—stupid things!" Antoinette raised her voice, just a hair, before breaking into a quieter tone as she finished her sentence.

Finally, Meg began to look slightly remorseful.

"I really didn't intend to scare you so, mother." She said quietly

Antoinette sighed. She knew, but all the good intentions in the world couldn't protect one from danger, and that was a lesson she knew more about than anyone in the world.

"He wasn't there?" She questioned.

"No. But there were a couple blankets that weren't ours."

"Well then…" she made herself smile, "I have just posted a letter to Christine, her wedding is next month, and we will be attending."

Meg smiled back, "That's lovely! Where"—

She broke off as Antoinette shook her head, "Don't say anything more about it, at least not in this house."

Meg knew why she was giving the order, and she nodded, but a morose frown marred her expression.

"It's rather like being back there, again, isn't it?"

Antoinette raised her eyebrows as she looked at her daughter for a long moment.

"Yes, it is. Remember that, Meg Giry. If you can learn one thing from this continuing debacle…so long as the Phantom lives, I do not believe any of us will ever truly be free of the Opera House, nor any of its occupants."

Until chapter 3, adieu