This was a random idea that came to me one day. There are fics about gender bent characters, but I've never seen one where only 1 character is genderbent in the Phantom fandom.

I hope this proves interesting, or at least amusing enough to read.

Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera

"He had beautiful blue eyes and a complexion like a girl's."- Gaston Leroux, The Phantom of the Opera

It was not a hidden fact that the opera ghost knew little about women. Perhaps that was why his fixation with the young soprano was so strong. After all, Christine Daae was the only woman who had seen him and lived to tell about it. All in all, he considered himself on good terms with her.

But that young man had to come ruin everything. That dashing, bold, rash, impudently beautiful viscount. Oh yes, the ghost would make Raoul de Chagny pay.

The youth was drowning in the lake as these thoughts flickered through the ghost's head. Behind the mask, Erik sneered in delight as he prodded the viscount with a pole.

"Fitting, young chap!" he taunted, "This is the end you meet!"

Raoul's golden head bobbed, struggling to come up for breath. What the ghost did not expect was the boy to grab onto the edge of his boat, lily white hands hoisting himself up.

Raoul collapsed at his feet, choking and coughing. Erik was about to kick him back down when something caught his eye.

The boy propped himself up, one hand on his torso, staring upwards and shuddering. Without his jacket, the ghost could see every line of the viscount's body clearly from behind the now translucent dress shirt.

The pole dropped.

Erik did not know much about women. Raoul's waist was far more slender than he remembered, almost curved. But what really drew the ghost's breath was the viscount's chest.

A bosom clear beneath the wet fabric. Two lumps that bobbed with each breath.

The Viscount de Chagny was a woman.

For the first time in a very long time, Erik stumbled, tripped, felt his bottom meet the gondola's hard edge.

A few hours before the aforementioned incident, Christine Daae concerned herself with thoughts of a red silk scarf. Raoul had recently purchased a near identical one for her and left it outside her dressing room. He was always the romantic.

Leaving the room, her heart was filled with butterflies. Even after all these years, Raoul still managed to make her giddy.

She wound the scarf around her neck. It would clash with her dress rather garishly but she needed some proof that the viscount was still in her mind. This was the easiest way to do it without words- after all, how could Erik punish her for a mere fancy?

That was a good rationale.

She rounded the corridors of the opera house, half expecting to see Raoul. Sure enough, he was waiting for her at the grand entrance, love in his blue eyes and a secret smile tugging on his lips.

She couldn't be seen with a de Chagny- he understood that at least. It was for the best, if they continued this in secret.

Keeping a foot behind him, she followed the young man away from the Populaire. Erik nagged at her mind; it was too late- she had already left with Raoul. Whatever punishment awaited them would have to... wait.

Soon she was in a carriage opposite her love, the curtains drawn shut, and not a thought in her pretty head. But something was off about Raoul that afternoon- something different. He appeared softer than usual, a little moodier than usual.

"You look lovely today, Christine," He said.

"Raoul, you're sweating like a pig."

"It's just the heat! Leave me be."

"No need to snap."

"I'm not the one snapping. You are simply inconsiderate."

"Why! I'll be!"

Raoul looked down, trembling with the faintest hint of rage. The butterflies in her stomach were gone. Really, all she wanted to do was leave the carriage and storm back to her flat. Erik could kill Raoul for all she cared.

She took that back. How wicked! To wish something like that. She glanced at him again- this lovely Hyacinth pretty enough to be an angel.

Who could stay mad at a face so sincere?

"You could remove your jacket, Raoul."

"No."

"But it would cool you down."

"I like my jacket, Christine. I don't order you to take off your dress, do I?"

Dinner went by very disagreeably. She felt too sour to enjoy the food and the very real threat of Erik's wrath loomed in her mind. But mostly, she was upset by Raoul's tantrums. He looked on the brink of tears... because she hadn't complimented the wine.

"Honestly, Raoul, you're acting very childishly tonight!"

"Then perhaps you should stop seeing me."

"Perhaps I will."

"Go be Erik's wife. I care not."

"Oh, you'll be sorry when I'm dead, Raoul de Chagny."

"Don't say such things!"

And Raoul was burying his face in napkins once more. She could have sworn she heard his voice rise a pitch, but that must have been a trick of rage.

"Raoul, I'm sorry that you're unable to enjoy this night. But I did like your scarf very much and I hope we can do this again at a less inconvenient time. But I'm tired and would like to retire now."

She stood up and folder her napkin. "Don't bother moving, Raoul. I shall hail a cab myself."

Draping a shawl over her shoulders, she prepared to leave without a second glance. She was honestly upset with him and saw no reason why she should bear the brunt of their uncomfortable date.

"I gave you my heart," He said softly.

Christine left the table.

After having thrown a very large, very inappropriate, private tantrum, the opera ghost, as most have called him, picked up a pen and furiously scribbled away on a card. A nice note to the viscount.

Christine had chosen that boy again, it seemed. Grinding his teeth in rage, Erik plotted a thousand demises for the young man. He would deal with his pupil later- perhaps even show the girl her lover's head. On a pike.

He scrapped the idea. Filling her with fear and loathing was not the way to a lady's heart (he assumed anyways). Perhaps he would just show her the body and tell her how the boy... drowned. How unfortunate.

Either way, he would make sure de Chagny died that night.

His writing was barely legible and in his rage, he had somehow made his handwriting even worse. Aside from several adjectives with negative connotations and cliched gothic lines, the letter summed up to this:

I have your Christine. If you want her back, come for me alone. Ten o'clock sharp on the rooftop! Or she dies.

But Erik made it more poetic.

It wouldn't be polite to invite one's adversary to their demise without a fitting piece of prose, after all. It wouldn't be hard to get the message to that boy. He already knew where the young man lived. He would tuck the message on the window sill, a light tap, and the half scared youth would come running. He knew the boy's character well enough to know he wouldn't bother bringing allies.

And even if he did, who said Erik had any intention of staying on the roof?

Raoul had rushed off without a word and Phillipe was growing weary of his sibling's pathetic drama. He made his opinion of the opera wenches quite clear. Even moreso, Raoul had no right courting any of those girls.

The count grit his teeth, taking a whiff of his pipe. Reclining on the couch, he sighed.

He had no one to blame for this but himself and Marie. He would throttle Marie next time he met his sister. This had all been her idea- everything he had taught Raoul had been Marie's idea.

Raoul had mentioned going to the Opera House. At this time of night? Phillipe didn't even have the chance to ask whatever for. Either the viscount was now a theater fanatic or this had something to do with Daae. The latter was more likely.

Phillipe sincerely hoped the Swedish maiden would contract tuberculosis.

Meanwhile, on the rooftop of Garnier's brainchild, Raoul was screaming hysterically for Erik to show his wretched, horrible, cruel, terrible, face.

"I'll kill you here and now if you don't bring me to her!"

"Patience, Monsieur," a disembodied voice replied, clearly amused.

Raoul refused to play the mouse in their game.

"Patience? For what!?"

"A gentleman wouldn't refuse me. She's in my home, waiting for you, my dear viscount."

"Then take me to it!"

"Come, follow my voice."

Luring Raoul to the fifth cellar had been a ridiculously easy task. Shoving the youth into the lake had been even easier and it would have been extremely convenient to drown him then and there.

But Erik, much like the characters in his favorite operas, had a fatal flaw. Many flaws, actually, but this one flaw outweighed the others at the moment: he liked to taunt his enemies.

That one taunt was all it took to allow Raoul the chance to climb back aboard the gondola.

And that was all it took for Erik to discover that the man his Christine was so smitten with was no man at all. The two of them stared each other off, unsure of what to say. Raoul's eyes radiated fear, the utmost terror.

Erik stayed on his sore bottom, unable to tear his gaze away from the maiden.

"Where's Christine?" the viscount, or rather viscountess, asked, still in shock and coughing up water.

Erik tried to blink away the sight. He couldn't. Raoul's breasts continued to bob with each breath. And try as he might, the opera ghost simply could not look away. It was horrible of him to do so, horribly indecent. He hadn't even seen Christine in such intimacy.

But he couldn't look away. Everything came together- Raoul's complexion, his fair hands, his soft locks, his red lips. He, she, was a woman.

It was of little wonder that the viscount had seemed so petite compared with the other men in the opera house, why Count Phillipe was so protective of Raoul, why the youth refused to shed his jacket.

"Where!?" Raoul demanded again, voice rising in pitch. The facade was broken and though deep, Erik knew a feminine voice when he heard one.

He was mortified. How stupid must he have been? How oblivious not to have noticed?

"I lied to you," Erik said at last, brain blank, "She's not here."

Raoul stared back, mouth hanging.

"You- you're, you're a-?" Erik's words looped and tangled.

Raoul's pale face did not blanch; it turned bright red just as Erik felt the blood rush to his own face.

So should this madness continue? Or should it just end here? Was it a horrible waste of time for you or was it amusing?

If this continues, I'm hoping to throw a new twist on ER, EC, and RC.