The door shut softly, the echoes of Madame Valerius' words whispering in her head. Papa was too tired today, she wouldn't see him today. Some days were like this, when they tried to hide his sickness from her, hiding away his worst days as if they were objects that could be hidden from the past. But she knew, Christine knew, that he was worsening. For the sake of her Papa, for Madame Valerius, for herself, she continued to play the role of the innocent twelve-year-old.

A cold, February wind mixed with snow swept down the chimney, the fire swaying dangerously. Christine sat at the table, wood scraping against wood as she pushed her chair back. She picked up the book she had been using to keep herself distracted throughout this time, a Bible with illustrations her father had gotten her for her seventh birthday.

It wasn't fair. Why was Papa sick? Why him, why their little family? Everything had been perfect. If he were well now, he would be playing his violin for her, a steaming mug of tea within arms reach from him to keep him warm, a blanket of her mother's wrapped around her.

Just then there were two small knocks on the door, and Christine was drawn out of her seat and thoughts. She only cracked the door open slightly, because who in their right mind would go out in this weather, unless it was a murderer?, surprised to see a skinny figure, slightly taller than her. Blonde hair and freckles peeked out from a cap, scarf wrapped numerous times around his neck.

"Raoul!" She opened the door only wide enough to ungracefully yank him inside. He couldn't get sick, too.

She immediately began getting rid of his extensive amount of winter wear, hanging his scarf and cloak to dry and standing on tip-toes to remove his hat.

"What… why are you here?" She put water on to boil, could people turn into icicles?, and pulled out a chair for Raoul to sit.

"It's Valentine's Day, Little Lotte", He awkwardly pushed a small package toward her. Christine frowned. She had completely forgotten, and yet here Raoul was, gifting her with things she probably didn't deserve.

"Thank you," she whispered in a hushed tone. Should she open it now? Oh dear, she very much liked Raoul but this… this meant so much.

Small hands trembled as they worked at the twine and brown paper hastily but lovingly wrapped. Christine's blue gaze widened and her breath was swept away at what lay on top. A card, Valentine's Day artwork carefully inscribed with luxurious swirls, colors and patterns. And underneath, a bright red fabric. A scarf! The knit was close and very elegant, the softest fabric she had ever felt. A braided fringe ended each side and she immediately looped it around her.

"Raoul…" she gasped. "It's beautiful! Thank you!" For the first time in perhaps weeks, she lit up with a girlish smile, kissing Raoul's cheek. The glow of his cheeks from the cold was replaced with a glow of embarrassment at her reaction.

"You're welcome," he murmured. He hesitated before awkwardly throwing his arms around her briefly and then withdrawing immediately. "Happy Valentine's Day, Little Lotte".