A/N; All Italic speech is the characters speaking in French. Future chapters will have the character consistently speaking French, unless otherwise stated.

Also, thank you so much for all the follows on this! If you guys have any criticism or just wanna say something, please review! Other than that, enjoy :)

Alarmed, I jumped up so swiftly that my chair fell to the floor. His eyes were gleaming dangerously and I didn't recognise the man that towered before me. My breathing hitched, and I stumbled backwards as he took a step to me, his cloak billowing slightly out. When I stumbled, his hand quickly snaked out and pinned me against the wall by my throat. My own hands reached up automatically, trying to claw his grip off of me, but his other hand took my wrists and pinned them also.

"How?! Damn you!" His expression turned ugly, and the rage in his voice mangled its usual beauty. Gasping for air, I tried my best to speak.

"Monsieur…. S-stop, please…. Let me e-explain!" His grip lessened enough for me to breathe well enough, and I took a couple of seconds to try to collect myself. His eyes still burned into mine. "It was obvious that was your name! Who else would Nadir be talking to! And the way you avoided my questions a while back…. You had to have a name so why would I be surprised at Nadir's unveiling of it?! Believe me, Erik! Please…"

He snarled, tightening his grip back up. "No, no Mademoiselle," he spat at me, "that's not it. Your eyes betrayed your thoughts. It was not the fact you were not surprised, but the waiting for it. You knew it was to come. You knew, you little demon."

I could feel my fear starting to become overwhelmed by my own anger and I narrowed my eyes at him. Knowing he could potentially kill me, with the rest of my air being cut off, I lifted up my legs and kicked his hips. He was pushed backwards, surprised at my attack, and let go of me as he stumbled. Gulping in lungfuls of air, my hand moved to clutch protectively at my throat and I ran for the door. Once there, I slammed it shut and locked it, trapping him inside before I realised what I had done. 'Shit… he's going to be so pissed at me…' I winced, only imagining his reaction as he tried to yank the door open. After several moments of the door shaking and thumping, it went silent.

"…Erik?" I got no response. "Erik, I did just assume. Believe me, please. You have no reason not to!" I'll admit, I was desperate. This man was one of my favourite characters in a story, whatever the form. Now that I knew the real thing, I didn't want to let go. Someone put their hand on my shoulder suddenly and I jumped… again. Spinning, I faced Erik looking at me without any expression. I felt nervous knowing he was just studying me.

"You know enough of my language to survive. Come. It is time you left."

The trip upstairs was awkward and quiet. It was still the night, quite late in fact, and I was unsure of what to do. Erik had allowed me to take some clothes in a small case, just to aid me to live, and even gave me a purse with some money to which I was grateful for. But he spoke to me from a distance, and it hurt knowing that whatever goodness we previously had, no matter how minimal, was gone thanks to paranoia. Granted, he was right – I did know who he was, of course, everything about him – but it hurt nonetheless. I thought telling him would be more dangerous, and could disrupt the story. God knows what would happen then.

Seeing the corridors I've imagined from the books, watched from the movie, was both frightening and amazing. Despite the strange atmosphere between Erik and I, a grin was unfurling from my lips and I would glance around with wonder. Erik stiffened every time I brushed too close to him, but I did my best to ignore this.

"Monsieur…? Erik, where are you taking me?" I pressed once again. He had remained silent all throughout the walking, regardless of how loud or often I questioned him, but now he answered.

"You recall I mentioned the Opera Populaire?" His voice was soft, but it silenced every sound in these corridors, demanding my attention. I muttered a yes, and he continued. "You will stay there, under supervision. Your piano is now better than the previous pianist, and you will work."

"If I refuse?"

"I suggest you don't." His response was quiet, yet still commanding. I nodded, thoughtful and slightly relieved. Not only was my future secure whilst I was present in this world, but I would actually be close to everything. It was better than I thought.

"Merci, Erik. Thank you."

The rest of the walk passed by quickly, and we came to an entrance to a room. Stepping through, Erik strode over to an older woman; Madame Giry. They conversed swiftly, getting right to the point of all this. She gazed at me with a scrutinising eye as Erik spoke, and grabbed my arm to pull me away and out of the room. Turning back, I smiled gratefully at Erik as I left and he nodded back, saying nothing.

"This way. Quickly. It is late." Madame Giry tugged at me, pulling me through what seemed like a labyrinth of several halls and corridors. It took ten minutes, most of which I was protesting at her painful grip, but we finally reached a small set of dormitories. She guided me to a bed in the corner, away from the other sleeping girls, and I fell upon it exhausted. "Rest. Be awake at sunrise, and I will take you to our manager." My last thought before I fell asleep, after I had changed and slipped under the blankets, was how Madame Giry reminded me of a French Professor McGonagall.

I woke up with a bunch of faces staring at me, making me blush and bury myself under my blankets. It was too early to deal with explanations of how I appeared so suddenly. The girls instantly began to throw questions at me, so I sighed and sat up. "Uh… Hello."

One girl, her blonde hair curling around her shoulders, leapt forward and took my arm. I recognised her as Meg, Madame Giry's daughter. "Hello, Mlle! Are you new?" I nodded and she grinned, clapping her hands together. "Wonderful! My name is Meg. What is yours, Mlle?"

"Melody… It's Melody." I croaked out, my voice still weak from sleep. Still, Meg and the other girls just looked like I had the voice of an angel as their eyes lit up.

"Melody… do you sing then?" Another girl chorused at me, and I did not recognise her.

"No, I do not. I play the piano." I shook my head, then gasped. I was supposed to find Madame Giry. "I'm supposed to be auditioning for a job right now. Do any of you know where Madame Giry is?" Shooting up and out of bed, I rummaged around in my case to find some suitable clothes as I spoke. Meg smiled, and assured me that she'd take me over there once I had changed. In a matter of minutes, she and I were running down the corridors – her running, I should say; I merely staggered there.

Meg led me through a labyrinth of hallways and open spaces, making me dizzy to follow, and soon we arrived at the stage area. Madame Giry stood, stern yet kindly smiling at me, next to a frantic manager holding a letter sealed with a red wax skull. Down below, in the orchestra's pit, there was yet another man tapping impatiently; Messieurs Lefevre and Reyer. Copying Meg, I bowed my head and curtseyed to all of them.

"Messieurs, this is the girl I was speaking to you about. The one who is to stay." Madame Giry gazed pointedly at Monsieur Lefevre's note and he nodded.

"Well, Mlle Melody. We don't have all day. You're a…?" Lefevre directed at me.

"Pianist, Monsieur." Monsieur Reyer looked delighted; I suppose usually they just get chorus girls and not a musician.

"What are you waiting for, Mlle? Come here and play!" Monsieur Reyer gestured down in the pit, and I hopped down to a lovely piano. Uncertain of what would be best, I thought for a moment about playing Für Elise, but soon decided against it - I didn't know it well enough yet. However, what I did know was from Hamilton, the musical. I only hoped it was good enough for them.

Closing my eyes briefly, I tried my best to recall the notes and tune. When I opened them, they were all looking at me as if I was insane. Grinning, albeit somewhat nervously, I began to play. Though I wasn't singing aloud, in my head the lyrics focused, allowing the melody to flow at the correct speed. Forgiveness… 'Do I forgive Erik for hurting me? I understand his anger, his paranoia, but what he did was abusive…' I poured my heart into that song, imagining his face in the last scene of the story, how he looked when Christine chose Raoul, and I sighed. I knew I'd already forgiven him, and even more determined to help him. I know what a broken heart feels like, being used by my first love was horrible. I would help him no matter the cost of myself.

When I played the last few notes, a tear ran down my cheek and I wiped it away, blushing. Monsieur Reyer cleared his throat, and Madame Giry smiled at me. Meg was crying also, but she was beaming at me, and I'll admit that she looked extraordinarily beautiful underneath the candles. Lefevre looked at Reyer, who offered his hand to me.

"Well, Mlle, I believe you outshine our previous pianist. Wonderful, and congratulations. Rehearsals will start tomorrow for the new opera."

Corridors away, a hand, gloved with black leather, placed a single red rose onto my bed, tied with a dark ribbon.