Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story, unfortunately. They belong to Sir Gaston Leroux, Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Joel Schumacher.

A little bit of information for a better understanding of my fic; I am aware that Erik is quite a number older than Christine, however, he is only five years older than her in this story, but he is the only one whose age I... "tampered" with. Despite Erik's "youngness", Madame Giry is still erm... old. Also, when Erik is around, it's in his POV, but when he leaves or he's just not there, it's not. I hope that doesn't get confusing. If it does, you can leave me a review about it. Also, Christine's father dies when she's a preteen, not when she's like, seven years old.

Midnight Serenade

Chapter 1

I walked on the stone pathway in the empty cemetary, quietly, reading the epitaphs through the mask that I wore to cover the hellish deformity upon my face. The beautiful words engraved on the tombstones, the monumental carvings of angels and crosses always inspired me to write music. Although my music is often dark and depressing, I find it beautiful the way it is. But I laid my eyes on another beauty. A young girl with brown curls, and she seemed to be staring at a grave. I decided to watch her and see what she was up to, hoping to find some inspiration for my music. The little girl was kneeling on the ground and brown eyes were sparkling in whatever sunlight was penetrating through the grey clouds. I noticed tears run down her pale cheeks and I listened to her, very intently, crouching behind a tombstone. I felt my pain in my chest, watching her cry, listening to her weep... And shockingly, I thought to myself, 'I wish I could help.' She said, "Father, it has been only a few days since your death, but I cannot bear it. I do not know how to live... I'm frightened now that I have nobody..." She spoke softly, but her words were so clear, even through her sobs. Her little hand reached into a bag beside her, shakily and out came a knife. "If this is the only way that I can be with you again, so be it..." I realised now what she was going to do. The petite beauty; she was going to kill herself! I rise from my hiding spot and run over to her and kick the knife out of her grasp. "What do you think you are doing?" I hollered, without thinking first. But what was I to do? I wasn't given enough time to think anything over. "Don't be a fool and kill yourself."

"What was that? Who are you" She said, harshly. She then looked over to me, "Were you watching me?"

"Well, I found it very difficult to ignore you."

She gave me a confused look and I felt my face grow warm. I sighed, annoyed at that stupid look she gave me, "I mean that scene you were making... just because your father is dead, does not mean you should be as well."

"Why do you worry about me? You do not even know me!" She yelled, standing, attempting to reach my eye level. However, she was still much shorter than I.

"I'm sure that nobody would like your dirty blood on their graves."

The girl's face was turning red in anger and I smirked at myself, victoriously and she spat at me"Oh, just leave me be! You're just trying to scare people off with that foul mask! But I know you're just a silly boy, and you cannot frighten me" She reached for my mask but I easily moved out of the way.

'How unladylike of her.' I thought, keeping that smirk on my face. "You will be deathly afraid if you dare touch my mask."

"Well, I will not be tempted, if we do not see each other ever again. Now, if you excuse me, I am going to go see Papa again."

"You're not, are you? You're not going to kill yourself! I know it's difficult without parents... I feel the same way, but..."

"No, I am not going to kill myself. But Papa said he would send me the Angel of Music when he gets to Heaven, and I am sure I will see Papa in this Angel, as well." She paused and looked like she was thinking something over. "Just a moment!" She said at last. I raised a brow, questioningly, but I doubt she saw it. "You said you know the feeling I am experiencing! So you do not have any family either!"

"I suppose not."

"Then we can be each other's family!" She gave me a large smile.

I hesitated to speak, but managed, "Um... well, I have another idea. But..." I grabbed her hand and put it to my chest. "You are going to trust me, child." She nodded after a little while. She seemed willing to trust anybody.

Madame Giry was on stage when I arrived at the Opera House. She was teaching the young balletdancers as she usually does, since it's her job. I learned on the way over that the girl with the brown curls and sparkling eyes was 12-year-old Christine Daae. I crept into the shadows with little Christine. I pulled Madame Giry over to the dark part of the stage where I concealed myself. "Madame Giry..." I began. "I have a request to make."

"Yes, anything. What is this request, my boy?"

I twitched at the sound of that. 'My boy.' Of course, as a 17-year-old, not yet a "real" adult, and she being the older woman that she is, she sees herself as my mother... and I suppose I see her as that, as well. I sighed"Well..." I looked over at Christine, who was just dragged by little Meg Giry, over to the middle of the stage, where Meg tried to show Christine one of her dances. I smiled and continued"I found something interesting at the cemetary today."

"And may I ask what it is, Erik?"

"You know very well what it is, Madame Giry. I brought a girl, whose name is Christine Daae, here to the Opera House. I trust you can mother her as though she is your daughter."

"Of course, dear. And was that name, Daae? She will fit in nicely at the Opera House. Her father was a famous violinist." Madame Giry looked beyond her shoulder and saw that Christine dancing with Meg. Although Christine wasn't doing exactly as Meg, she was close... and she was graceful. "And she has already become friendly with my Meg. Do not worry, Erik, she will be fine."

"I do not doubt you at all, Madame Giry." I looked again at the little girls. They were running over so I found it was my time to leave. "I shall be off, Madame." She nodded and turned to the two girls as they approached her and I crept away in the shadows.

"Mama! Christine is an angel on her feet! You must let her be a part of the ballet!"

"Perhaps you both will be a part of it, soon. But first, you need training, before you can dance in an opera."

Shyly, Christine spoke, "So, this is..."

Madame Giry knew exactly what she was saying. "Yes, this is the Paris Opera House."

That night, all the little ballet dancers gathered in their room, to ready themselves for bed. Meg introduced Christine to them, though it was awkward for her. While the other girls were wound up in their own conversations or games, Christine was sitting on her bed, staring at the wall. Meg plopped down beside her. "Christine? Is there something the matter?"
"It's a bit awkward here... I've never been in a place such as this, with people such as you." Christine quickly realized what she said and gasped, "I'm sorry!None of you arestrange... maybe I'm the strange one."

Meg giggled at her new friend, "Oh, Christine. You will get used to it."

"Do you promise?"
"Yes, yes... I promise."

"Well, then, in that case, I have another question to ask of you, Meg."

Meg shrugged. "Okay, what?"

"Where does the boy with the mask live in the Opera House?"

Meg smiled, "Boy with a mask? Oh, Christine, surely you jest! There is no boy with a mask"

"There is a boy with a mask, here! I am certain!"

"Well, I do know this... there have been many incidents here at the Paris Opera House." The room became silent. "Some think it may be a person's mischievious pranks, but I know who it is! I heard from Joseph Buquet, and Iheard him for myself!"

The room echoed with the questions, "Who","Who is 'him'","What do you know?"

"The Opera Ghost! I heard he's a young boy and he wanders around the Opera House, like this place is his playground! Nobody has ever seen his face before."

Christine moaned. " 'Opera Ghost'? Now, you are the one who jests!"

"But he is real!" Meg argued. "He wrecks havoc when there are people about. But when it is quiet at night, he plays his beautiful music..."

Christine rolled her eyes. "Okay, Meg. Believe whatever you would like."

"Okay, I will." Meg sighed. "I do wish that I could meet this Opera Ghost. I have heard his music. At times, he plays a violin somewhere here in the Opera House and I hear it. The songs he plays... they sound so lovely, but sad... lonely. I bet all O.G. wants is a friend!"

A voice from the group of ballet girls called"Oh, Meg! Now you've given Monsieur Opera Ghost a nickname!"

Christine lied in her bed, staring out the window at the large, white moon that glistened outside. She hasn't been able to sleep for a few nights, because when things became quiet, she just thought to herself. And since her father recently died, all that was in her mind was the memories of her father. She cried, silently and her tears wet her pillow. She saw a shooting star in the sky and she was about to wish on it, but she knew that her only wish was to see her father again, but she knew that was impossible. But then she remembered the boy in the mask. 'I want to see him again. He was nice to me...' She thought. She closed her eyes and folded her hands and said in her mind, 'I wish the boy with the mask was here.' After a few minutes, she smiled, hoping that her wish would come true by the next morning. She was about ready to fall asleep when she heard music on a violin. She knew it was not her father, because she didn't wish for it. 'The songs he plays... they sound so lovely, but sad... lonely." She remembered that Meg had said this about her Opera Ghost, and the description she gave matched the song that Christine was listening to. She rose and stepped onto the wooden floor and tiptoed out of the room. She was going to look for the violinist.

I stood on the roof of the Opera House, peering out into the city of Paris. The moon shone brightly, and I could see the buildings vividly even though lamps were not lit. I played the violin here as I did many other nights as people slept soundly in their beds. I listened to the music I played and felt somewhat possessed, as I began to sing words, mindlessly, to a song that I wrote without any. At that moment, I felt something touch my arm and I heard a beautiful voice. My eyes widened in surprise; there was somebody beside me, and she sang in such a pretty voice. It was getting a few of my words wrong and it was not in tune with my violin but nevertheless, I enjoyed listening. But I stopped playing anyway, to take a look to see who was standing right next to me. Christine.

"Christine! You should be in bed! Why did you climb to the roof? Why are you even awake"

She smiled at me, innocently."Why do you ask so many questions?"

"Do not mind that, just go," I growled angrily. I did not want to be seen, even though Christine has already.

"You get so angry. I did nothing wrong, did I, Opera Ghost?"

I could not believe what I was hearing. The voice that had earlier made me feel soothed, was now making me angry. "What did you just call me..?"
Christine just smiled up at me. "Is that not what they call you?"

"Don't be absurd! You unsettle my temper!" I hollered at her, harshly.

"You are the one whom is unsettling! You demon!"

At those two words I forgot of Christine's weeping at her father's grave and the pity I felt. I forgot all about her singing to my music and knocked the girl over with a shove. "Demon, am I? I took you to the Opera House, did I not?"

I glared down at her, as she sit helplessly, as she began to cry. I had not physically hurt her too badly, but she did have a scratch on the arm she fell on. It bled through her nightclothes and I smacked myself inwardly. On the outside, I grabbed her by the wrist and attempted to pull her up as gently as I could, so that I would not hurt her again, and she stood, her head looking down and she sniffled, "I am sorry... I was not thinking."

"No. I was the one who did not think. Arguing with a child... I'm..." I never liked doing this, because honestly, I never have. "I... I apologise."

"It's okay. I just wanted to hear you play your violin... and when you sang with the song you were playing, I thought maybe you were the Angel of Music father had promised."

Of all the things I have ever heard her say, that was the most absurd. However, I felt... perhaps, happiness. But I couldn't be anybody's angel. I knew she was (and still is) feeling upset about her father's death. And since she heard me play the violin tonight, I must remind her of her father. As she said before, 'I am sure I will see Papa in this Angel" and she sees him in my violin and me.

...She's a stupid little girl.

(A/N: Okay, so Erik isn't in love with Christine yet. He just sees her as a helpless kid that's why he's so nice to her... sometimes.)