(BEING REWRITTEN) An Opera Ghost- A Phantom of the Opera Fan Fiction

Chapter Nine

A/N: I don't particularly like this chapter, but it was needed. I hope you enjoy it! Like, comment, fan!

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~Twelve Years Later~

A creak filled the bedroom as the mirror slowly opened. A curly haired head poked out, eyes and forehead masked behind white porcelain.

"Meg?" the soft voice whispered into the empty room. Pushing the mirror so it was fully open, Florence tip toed onto the cold wooden.

"Good evening, Florence," the sing song voice spoke. Florence jumped slightly and looked to the vanity that Meg had pushed to a corner. There sat the blonde prima donna, smiling at Meg through the mirror as she brushed her hair in dim candle light. "What brings you here at such a late hour, child?" Meg went on to ask, setting her brush down and spinning on the wooden bench on which she was sitting.

"Papa wished me to announce his appearance to you," Florence declared, returning Meg's smile, "He should be here in around ten minutes." Meg nodded, and then stood, beckoning Florence too her. The young girl walked on her toes to where Meg was, the old wooden floor silent beneath her light weight and nimble feet.

"Sit," Meg invited, and Florence took the invitation. She plopped down onto the bench with form that would make her father chastise her. After all, she was to be a proper young lady. Meg reached around Florence to grab the brush. "You need to take your mask off, dear," Meg instructed.

"Yes, Meg," Florence obeyed, taking the piece of cold porcelain from where it had sat balanced on the arc of her nose. Meg smiled as she began to brush through Florence's almost unruly hair. Florence closed her eyes, liking the feeling of having her hair sifted through. Meg smiled at the young girl's content. She was such a happy person, always positive. She had never known hate or heartbreak or death; her father had made sure of that. However, she had tasted loss of sorts when Meg's mother refused to see Florence or Erik any longer. Florence had been small and hadn't understood why the woman no longer wanted to see her. However, she had been young enough where by a years time, she no longer remembered Madame Giry.

Meg lost track of time as she made Florence's usually wild hair lay flat, still curled but more gentle than before. It wasn't until a hand touched her shoulder did she stop, turning to the person whom had touched her. The small smile she had donned before widened into a grin as she saw exactly who she had been waiting for. Dipping into a curtsy, she greeted her love.

"Monsieur Erik," she breathed, still finding herself blushing in his presence even when he had started gracing her with it the night after she moved into the room. Erik, his face still half hidden by his mask, smiled softly at Meg.

"Mademoiselle," he greeted, taking her hand and slowly kissing it, watching the blush creep down her neck. He loved kissing her hand just to watch that happen; to watch his beloved blush. Yes, Erik had found a new love in Meg Giry and it was much better than the romance he had shared with Christine. This was intimate- at least when Florence wasn't around- and it was a mutual feeling being shared. Meg loved Erik back.

"I suppose Florence delivered my message to you?" Erik presumed, and Meg nodded her head in response.

"I told you I would, Papa," Florence giggled, "Did you not believe me?" Erik let Meg's hand slip from his as he turned to his beautiful daughter.

"Of course I believed you darling," Erik reassured Florence with a laugh, "But you know how forgetful you can sometimes be." Florence bit her lip, looking down for a moment. She was, indeed, very forgetful and could be distracted easily. "It's okay my dearest," Erik chuckled, holding out a hand to his daughter and helping her up, "Everyone has flaws. Yours just happen to be forgetfulness and  staying up too late." Florence groaned at the last part about her staying up too late. She knew exactly what that meant- it was time for her to go to bed.

"Papa, it isn't that late," Florence negotiated, but her father shook his head.

"Go to bed, my dear Florence," he said softly, cradling her head in his hands for a moment before kissing her forehead. He then sent Florence off through the mirror, leaving him alone with Meg Giry. Erik waited until the mirror closed completely before turning to Meg. He lightly brushed her cheek with the back of his hand, then went in for a kiss which landed perfectly of Meg's lips. Erik's life was getting better every day, it seemed, and he could only hope it would continue that way.