"Hello?!" (Y/n) called out again. Cautiously making her way over to the shadowy part of the room, for which the noise had come.

She wouldn't blame anyone for having taken refuge in the building. It could be cold and wet on the streets of Paris. And despite a few places here and there, where the roof had seen better days, the inside of the building was dry and warm, if a person found the right spot. Though she had to admit that she would be a little surprised if someone had been brave enough. (Y/n) had heard the stories of the ghost. Of the Phantom. Of what had happened with the young diva years before. And despite the fact that her father had brushed it off. Claimed that it was all poppycock. (Y/n) couldn't help but hope that it was all true. That this Phantom did in fact exist. And that she was lucky enough to meet him.

"Hello? It's alright. I won't hurt you..............." 

"(Y/n)!" A voice suddenly called out. (Y/n) feeling her heart almost burst, as she heard her name. Her hand clutching at her chest as she turned around to see her father. The young woman breathing a sigh of relief, as she looked upon his smiling visage.

"(Y/n), my dear. Your mother sent me to find you. Please come before she sends a search party for you." Her father explained. The elderly man holding out his arm for his child to take. (Y/n) taking one last look around the dressing room, before taking her father's arm.

"I'll be back." (Y/n) said quietly. A small smile pulling at her lips, as she could swear that she saw the slightest of movements from the back of the room.  

"Pardon, my dear?"

"Oh, nothing papa. Now, lets get back to mama." (Y/n) replied, as she led the old man back through the building. Hoping that the movement that she had seen, was more than just the resident mice playing with her mind.

                                                          >>-------------------------------<<

"Hello?! Is there someone there?" The vision called out. Erik cursing himself, and the creaky old floorboard beneath his foot.

"Hello?!" (Y/n) called out again. Erik holding his breath as he watched her cautiously make her way over to the shadowy part of the room, where he was concealing himself.

Part of him wanted to show himself. To come out from the shadows. Yet he couldn't risk scaring her away. He couldn't risk losing her, or the chance to see the opera house returned to its previous glory. He couldn't risk losing the chance to hear his siren sing, once again. And he couldn't help but find himself smiling, as he watched her. He could see an inquisitive, impish like sparkle in her eyes, as she slowly inched closer. Erik was sure that she must know about what had happened. That she must know of the Phantom. Yet she didn't seen to be scared. She didn't seem to be scared at all. In fact, she seemed to be far braver than many he had come across.

"Hello? It's alright. I won't hurt you ................" (Y/n) continued softly. Erik's eyes shooting to the door, as an old man appeared in the ingress, and called out her name.

"(Y/n), my dear. Your mother sent me to find you. Please come before she sends a search party for you." The old man explained. Before offering her his arm. Erik wishing that he could step out and stop (Y/n) from leaving. That he could make her stay just a little longer.

"I'll be back." Erik heard (Y/n) say quietly. A small smile pulling at her lips, as she looked back over to the gloom in which he concealed himself.

"Pardon, my dear?"

"Oh, nothing papa. Now, let's get back to mama." (Y/n) replied, as she led the old man back out of the dressing room. Erik finding himself smiling broadly as he watched them disappear.

                                                                 >>-------------------------------<<

(Y/n) stared out of the large window in the room. A sigh leaving her lips, as she thought about the opera house. She felt like she had been there for hours, listening to her parents, both drone on to Monsieur de Riche. (Y/n) had to admit that the grey haired gentleman seemed pleasant enough. He had smiled, as his manservant had shown (Y/n) and her parents into his well appointed home. He had gently kissed her hand and told her that he had been looking forward to meeting her for some time. Yet she was sure that even this nice man, could only take so much of her parent's gushing. (Y/n) positive that at any moment would agree to sponsor anything, if it meant them leaving his home. (Y/n) hoping that he would do it sooner rather than later, so that she could try and persuade her father to let her return to the opera house one last time, before it became to dark.

"You will of course wish to hear her sing before you make up your mind, Monsieur." (Y/n) heard her mother suddenly say. (Y/n)'s eyes turning from the window to the other people in the room.

"I would very much like that, as long as Mademoiselle (Y/n) is so inclined." Monsieur de Riche said kindly. (Y/n) feeling a blush come to her cheeks, as she saw the look in the older man's eyes, that told her that he knew that she hadn't been listening to a word that had been said.

"Of course, she wants to sing for you, Monsieur. Don't you, (Y/n)?" Her mother replied, as she pushed (Y/n) forward. The older woman hoping to hasten her daughter to her feet.

"I would be delighted to sing for you, Monsieur de Riche. That is if you would do me the honour of accompanying me." (Y/n) agreed. Gesturing to the large piano that sat just below the window that she had been looking out of.

"I would be delighted, my dear young lady. And if your voice is as beautiful as I have been led to believe. Then it is you that will be doing me the honour." Riche smiled. Taking her hand as he led her over to the piano.

                                                         >>--------------------------------<<

Erik felt as though he had danced all the way back through the subterranean labyrinth, as images of (Y/n)'s beautiful face filled his mind. He had found himself humming. Singing. Desperate to return to his lair, so that he could put quill to parchment. So that he could get this new music from his mind. Arias perfect for his sirens voice, begging for him to give them life.

It was true that Christine had filled his heart with music. But (Y/n) was doing more than that. She was drowning his soul. Engulfing him in words and notes. And it was an exquisite kind of madness. Erik sure that if this was the end of him, he would die happy, right here and right now. Swallowed up by her angelic voice and form.

He made his way to the organ. Pushing the other sheet music from atop its keys. It had been so long since he had felt like composing. So long since he had wanted to compose. But now he had found a new muse. A new reason to write. And this time, he was determined not to lose her.