***Please note: this story is from a notion that came upon me the other day to try out the Phantom characters if their roles were somewhat transposed. Christine Daae is the tragic figure that haunts the Paris Opera House. Erik is her shy, but talented, pupil. This is an excerpt from that AU.***

"I brought you some water with lemon," Erik said, knocking on the soprano's door. "I thought it might soothe your throat. You sang so well tonight."

From inside came a muffled, despairing snort. "I missed the G after the first chorus in the banquet scene. I may as well never show my face again. Don't tell me you didn't notice."

Erik had noticed. He toed the floor nervously. "Can't I come in? I've got your water, you see, and there's no place to set it down in the hallway."

There were footsteps, and then Lotte threw open the door. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her makeup had run a little. "Come in then."

Erik stepped past her into her dressing room. He looked around. "Where's Piangi?"

She shrugged. "I came offstage and he gave me that look, you know, and then stalked off. He's probably out drinking himself out of his shame."

"Stop it, Lotte. It was fine. Loads better than I could do."

Carlotta glared at him and flounced into her chair. "You liar. You've got the range of an angel. A whole choir of angels! Angel of music, that's what you are, and everyone knows it but them." She tossed her head at the door. "When are they going to let you sing? You'd be perfect for just about any role. What are they waiting for? They should just hire you and replace me. You don't miss notes."

"I probably would if I were on stage, with a thousand people staring at me," Erik returned. "I nearly died of fright the first time they put me in with the chorus."

"And now look at you! Leading the dancers!" She smiled, and took a sip of her water. Erik relaxed. Lotte was a fright in a sulk, but he could usually coax her out of them. He enjoyed their repartee. It was gritty and normal, and sometimes he felt that his life had been anything but that since he'd come to perform with the troupe at the Opera House.

"What does your mysterious teacher think?" Lotte asked.

He glanced over his shoulder instinctively. Madame Daae had spoken to him from almost every corner of the theatre so far, and she didn't like being talked about. He lowered his voice. "She wants me to sing."

"Then you should," said Lotte. "I like this teacher of yours. She pushes you. What is she like?"

Erik moved to her side so that he could speak even more quietly. "She's amazing," he whispered. "She's very strict, but oh, Lotte, her voice is like nothing I've ever heard before. And her music! She writes the most beautiful music. Like the things you feel in the dark when you're alone. Like the taste of champagne and strawberries. I wish you could hear it."

Carlotta listened with no trace of envy. "I wish I could, too. When Piangi first found me, that's how it was for me, too. He was… like a god. He was bold, and magical, and he called on me to make something more of myself. And now, even though I really hate that look he has, I want to prove that he was right about me. That I am a worthy investment. That he wasn't wrong to train me and teach me and bring me into this world of opera."

"Good!" The door burst open, and Piangi strode in. "That is good. I am very pleased to hear it. Maybe now we will make some progress. And then you will miss no more notes, yes?"

Erik smiled at Lotte and edged out past Piangi's bulk. It was hard, to be singled out by genius. But it helped to have a friend who understood.