Author's Note: I do not own anything except for my OCs.

Again, thank you for reading and please review! I know that my chapters are a little on the short side right now, but please bare with me as I try to get my sea legs!

Masks danced to and fro as she walked into the foyer of the Opera Populaire. She had been there once before with her Papa when she was 8 years old. She couldn't remember much from those days, however, she swore that 6 years and one fire later, it was just as grand then as it was now. Before she could stop to admire the refurbished opera house, she was pulled into the torrent of bodies. The music rang out in her ears and she began dancing with the many men and women.

"Colette!" Monsieur Perrot snapped viciously.

Her mind snapped back to the present as she jumped slightly. Colette couldn't stop thinking about the opera house since she had heard the news. She still struggled with the idea that the same opera house she was supposed to be employed by only one month from now was burnt to a crisp.

"I'm sorry Monsieur," she muttered as she rose into En Pointe to stretch, before falling to the flat of her feet and resuming Croise Devant.

She met her tutor's eyes and gave him a sheepish smile as he gently scolded her.

"You know good and well that your parents don't pay me to let you daydream, you should be focused on your technique. You will never be Prima Ballerina at the Populaire if you continue to be so distracted from your study."

"I will never be Prima Ballerina regardless of my focus, the opera house is in ruins" she grumbled, struggling to keep the hint of sadness out of her voice.

Monsieur Perrot's eyes softened and he cast her a reassuring smile. "The Opera Populaire will be rebuilt child, I know this much. The two managers are selling it to an older man from Germany, and word has it that he plans to begin reconstruction within the year."

Colette sighed. Monsieur Perrot seemed so sure that she would be Prima Ballerina at the famous opera house, but she couldn't help but doubt herself. I saw those girls dance once so long ago, I'll never be that good. She pushed the thought away almost immediately as Perrot waved at her to resume her exercises.

After several hours of practicing technique, Monsieur Perrot left and Colette retired to her room so that she could get rested before dinner with her parents and a few guests. She put her pointe shoes away and stretched her muscles, trying to loosen some of her pent up energy. Pacing the floor, Colette let her mind wander. She loved her parents and her home in Rambouillet, however, she itched to leave. She wanted to go to Paris, or to Le Mans. Her Heart ached for a sense of freedom that she had never known before. The open position for a ballerina at the opera house had been her chance to leave, and to start her own life. Now it's too late. With this thought, she plopped down on her bed, running her hands down the soft navy blue silk sheets.

She looked around her large room. She understood how lucky she was to be in such a wealthy family. Her mother and father had a trading business that kept them well provided for. Her room was fit for the finest Parisian nobles, and even better. Sometimes, she thought, there seemed to be now limit to her parents wealth.

Yet these things weren't enough. She wanted to explore, to have an adventure. Maybe I'll run away! I could go to the Ecole de Danse de l'Opera de Paris at the Salle Le Peletier Opera house. I could continue my ballet and maybe even move on the Populaire when it is reopened!

Her scheming was interrupted by a servant knocking on her oak door. "Mademoiselle, dinnertime is approaching."

She sighed and pulled herself off of her bed and walked over to her vanity, using the mirror to fix her big black curls into a French braid that reached down to the small of her back. She then changed into her favorite turquoise dress, which sported a square neckline and a slimmer fit style. The peach embroidery on the neckline and bodice was subtle enough to make the dress casual, however, it gave her a sophisticated air.

She opened the door and headed down the rather grand staircase, arriving at the bottom of the steps just in time to see her father meeting their guests at the door.

"Ah, Comte Philippe, what a wondrous night! I do rather hope that your journey from Paris was without troubles!" The Comte smiled and nodded graciously in reply to her father.

"It was quite pleasant, thank you. I hope you do not mind, but I had a guest join me tonight. Please, meet Astor."

Behind Philippe stood a tall man of muscular build. His shoulders were wide and strong, and his face was set in a defiant look. His dark curls framed a pair of almost royal blue eyes. He must have been around 25.

After pleasantries were exchanged, the party made its way towards the dining room, where places were set and dinner was ready to be served. Her father sat at the head of the table, and her mother to his right. Colette opted for the seat farthest from the Comte, who sat directly across from her mother and to her father's left. Philippe had been a long time family friend of the Desrosiers, in fact, the whole De Chagny family was rather close to her own. Astor sat across from Colette, with his eyes trained forward on her own delicate figure. She couldn't help but to shift under his piercing gaze. He must of notice her uncomfortable gesture because the corners of his lips quirked into a hedonistic grin.

Astor finally broke eye contact when the Comte rose his voice and began speaking to her father and the servants brought dinner to the table. The two of them spoke of business matters all throughout dinner, however it wasn't until the matter of the opera house was mentioned that Colette began to listen.

"Yes, Raoul got himself into quite the mess with that Daae girl," The Comte began.

She recognized he name immediately. That was the name of the ballerina I was to replace.

Dinner was finished, and the group retired to the library. Colette had excused herself and began to go back up the stairs. She could hardly believe all that she had learned today regarding the fire at the opera. Who was this Phantom? Was he real? Did he really cut the chandelier down? She was so lost in thought that she hadn't noticed a shape moving through the darkness.

Her body jolted as a hand shot out of the shadows and roughly grabbed her waist, throwing her through her bedroom door and at her silk sheets. Before a note could leave her lips, a strong hand covered her mouth and silenced her cry for help.