A/N: This probably won't become much of a young Giry/Erik pairing (...but who knows...?)—I'm mostly writing this out of speculation, and for fun. May border on AU. And if anyone has come up with a similar storyline before: I honestly didn't copy you—the idea suddenly came into my mind while I was on the computer at 3AM. Heheh. Oh, and this is overall musical & movie-versed. Also, since I don't know Madame Giry's maiden name, I dub her: Antoinette Lauran.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the Phantom of the Opera.

Chapter 1: The Arrival

They sprinted down the street, gasping for breath. Antoinette skidded to a stop as they reached the back of the Opera House, and shot a glance backward. No pursuers in sight, yet. She had to hurry. With trembling fingers, she somehow managed to get the grate open. "Hurry," she hissed, nudging the boy toward the opening. "I'll go around and meet you." He crawled in, and she shut the grate again with a sigh of relief.

Brushing her hands off, Antoinette began walking around the opera house. Serenely. Very serenely.

Soon enough, a heavy-set man wielding a club careened around the corner, followed by several others. "'ey, you there!"

Antoinette's insides jumped and did a few pirouettes (which she immediately felt tempted to physically copy), but she kept her face expressionless. "Yes?"

"Did you see that carnival display come around here? You prolly wouldn't have missed 'im—he looks like a little monster." He spat and waited for her answer.

"No," Antoinette replied nonchalantly. "Sorry."

Growling in frustration, the men rushed off. Antoinette allowed herself a grin, then shouted after them. "Oh, actually… I think I saw several!" She quickly ran to the front of the Opera House, dashed inside, and headed for the basement. The boy was waiting for her there and gave her a grateful nod as soon as she entered the room. Antoinette grabbed his wrist and led him down a flight of stairs which led to a small, unused storage room. She walked to the back of the room, lifted another rusty grate in the wall, and motioned for the boy to enter.

They crawled through, to find themselves standing in front of a large subterranean lake. "What now?" the boy spoke for the first time. His voice was rather hoarse and raspy, although Antoinette guessed that it must have been resonant before he had been mistreated.

Instead of replying, Antoinette took her shoes and off and stepped into the water. The boy followed. They waded through the mostly shallow water. Antoinette suddenly realized that she had forgotten to take her stockings off and mentally kicked herself. Well, at least she didn't feel the slime that coated the stone.

A few minutes later, they reached land again. The boy looked impressed. "How did you find out about this place?"

"I…uh…occasionally skip ballet practices." Antoinette replied sheepishly. "Anyhow, you can basically go anywhere in the Opera House through these tunnels. And you'll be safe here. I'll bring food and clothes later."

The boy's mouth twitched in a sort of a twisted smile. Not much of a smile, but it certainly did make him look slightly better, even the ungainly—or downright hideous—side of his face. Much to her surprise, Antoinette did not feel much revulsion at his face anymore.

"Thank you," he said. "What's your name?"

"Antoinette. Yours?"

"Erik."

--

Upon her return to her living quarters, Antoinette found to her great dismay that Madame LeGrand, the ballet instructor, had decided to pay her a visit. She was sitting on the bed, her sharp features even sharper than usual. "Antoinette Lauran, are you skipping rehearsal again?" she demanded and thumped her stick on the floor. "I will not tolerate this behavior much longer."

Antoinette mentally stuck her tongue out at her, careful to keep her soaked stockings (oh, why hadn't she taken them off?) behind her back. "I'm sorry, Madame," she feigned a tone of utter misery. "I stayed behind at the carnival. There was so much to see!"

"Please, Antoinette. No excuses. What's that you're holding?"

"Oh...it's nothing."

"I saw that. What is it?"

"I...uh...stepped in a puddle." She sighed and dropped the stockings on the floor beside her.

"So your shoes are wet as well?"

"Um...no."

Madame looked slightly confused, but shook her head and finally stood up."Well, change and come to practice! I will be waiting. And I expect you to wash those soiled stockings. I will not have my dancers called 'ballet rats.'" She left the room.

Antoinette changed and went down to the stage where the rehearsal was in progress. Lefevre—the young stagehand with the strange hairstyle—smirked at her, but she ignored him and quickly took her position at the side of the stage. As the dance scene came up and she glided out into the center with the other dancers, her mind drifted down to the large cellars again, and to Erik.

--

That day, their friendship began.

-To be continued

A/N2: Sorry this chapter is short and not too interesting, but I had to set the stage for everything and such. The next chapter will hopefully be much better.