A/N: Hullo, all ye people of FFN. This here is my first phic right here, feel free to tell me I suck. This is both E/C and R/C, because there aren't enough of those.

I have no beta, so your reviews are gold to me

Mandatory disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this story; I am merely forcing them to do my bidding. Moohaha! I also don't own the paragraph about Little Lotte; I ripped that off Gaston Leroux.

Christine Daaé loved music with every bit of her heart and soul. Of course, that's hardly surprising, considering the sort of life she had.

From the very moment she was born, her life revolved around music. Her mother died when she was very small, (Christine being the small one of course. Her mother was of quite average size.) And indeed Christine possessed nearly no memory of her. Her father, a passionate musician himself, was left to raise this little girl on his own. So he did exactly what anyone would have expected from him: he taught her everything he could about music. She knew the musical alphabet before the English, and as she grew was able to read music with as much ease as the fairytales she so loved.

Daaé was one of those very fortunate people, perhaps you have met one of them, who has travelled to nearly every place worth mentioning on a globe. He was a famous violinist, who performed for the leaders of lands the world over. However, when the day was done, he could almost always be found in a smaller, quieter venue under a false name. He would fiddle away and his small daughter would sing along with a voice like an angel.

Unfortunately, children do not stay children forever, and Christine soon grew to an age where she was required to begin an education of some sort. She had been heartbroken at the prospect of leaving her father, and begged him not to force her to go. After long deliberation and quite a bit of crying on Christine's part, Daaé had agreed to let her remain with him, and he would give her an education himself.

Although terribly bright, she was somewhat absent-minded in that she always seemed to dwell in a world of her own, that no one else could see or hear, except perhaps her father. And, for the most part, she was. On the rare occasions she could not be with her father, she kept herself company dreaming of the stories he told. Daaé was an exquisite story-teller. He spent many a long winter night spinning fairytales for his lovely daughter.

He told many stories, but far and above Christine's favourite was that of Little Lotte and her Angel of Music. The story began:

"Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was golden as the sun's rays and her soul as clear and blue as her eyes. She wheedled her father, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her little red shoes and her fiddle, but most of all loved, when she went to sleep, to hear the Angel of Music."

Christine had been enchanted at the prospect of hearing an Angel in her sleep. She said a prayer every night, pleading the Angel to come to her, but each morning awoke with no Angel's songs to speak of.

"Daddy," she'd said one morning, "Will I ever hear the Angel of Music?"

"Why, of course," he'd said, drawing her up into his lap. "Every truly great artist is visited by the Angel of Music, and that is how they receive their genius. You must keep your eyes and ears open."

Christine opened up her eyes wide and cupped her hands behind her ears. Daaé laughed and tickled her as she squealed with delight.

But," he said, as he would often say, "Remember, child, that not all Angels have wings."

At first this had confused her. "What do you mean, Daddy?"

"Well," he'd explained, "sometimes Angels come down from Heaven, and walk the earth."

Christine's eyes had opened wide and her mouth fallen open in amazement. Angels on earth? Perhaps she would meet an Angel! Perhaps she already had. How would she have known? A frown marred her pretty features for a moment. "But Daddy, how do you know they are Angels?"

A smile had illuminated his face. "You know they are Angels by their deeds. Angels come to answer prayers, or teach us lessons."

This idea had fascinated Christine, and she made a point to look for Angels everywhere they went.

Christine enjoyed her life, but unfortunately it was not to last for long. When she was only ten years old, her father came down with a terrible illness, and was soon residing with the angels he so loved to speak of. His death caused a dramatic change in the girl. She became passionless, deadened, withdrawn. From the time she was born, she had a certain light about her that attracted people; now that light was all but extinguished. When one saw Christine Daaé, they wished to know her, but once they spoke to her, they soon found that she was in fact painfully mediocre and wholly unremarkable. It was as close to invisibility as she could manage, and she was quite content with it.

Because she had no family, Christine lived with the Valerius's. They were an older couple, and although they had no real children of their own, they'd taken care of many children over the years, children who had no other home to go to. Daaé was one of these children, and they had always regarded Christine as a sort of grand-child, and were more than happy to take her in. Good guardians they were, but unfortunately they did not share Daaé's opinions on his daughter's education, and before long Christine found herself in a local school. Christine had no desire for friends, and all who were drawn to her she drove away with her façade of mediocrity. All but one, that is.

Meg Giry was a singularly extraordinary girl. She was the type of girl that made it her business to know every one of her fellow students, as well as all the details concerning their personal lives. She did, however, truly care about the people she chose to call "friend", and it was perhaps that very aspect of her personality that was the reason she became a staple in the life of Christine Daaé. No matter how many times Christine brushed her off, no matter how many times she denied anything was wrong, no matter how many times she pretended to be dull, Meg refused to give up on her, and it was this persistent friendliness that proved her sincerity to Christine. The two were best friends from then on. Meg provided the unyielding affection Christine needed and she in turn gave Meg a sort of deep and understanding friendship that was absent among her other, rather shallow acquaintances.

Undoubtedly the most momentous change in young Christine was the loss of her music. Granted, a girl such as Christine could never fully separate themselves from music, but it could never be said she did not try her hardest. She'd barely sung a note since her father died, and only ever in private. Meg was the only living soul for a long time that was graced with her voice, and that was entirely an accident. She'd come to Christine's house unannounced, and walked in on a lovely duet with her radio. Meg gave her hearty applause, causing her to turn a violent shade of red and stutter incoherent apologies. It had taken quite a bit of time, but Meg eventually convinced her to join their school choir. She dramatically maintained that it would be a crime against humanity in general if Christine kept such a magnificent voice to herself.

Meg had a talent for persuasion, and it was indeed upon her persuasion (although some would find it more accurate to call it "belligerent nagging") that Christine even applied to the Lehrau University of the Arts at all. Truth be told, the only reason she did was to make Meg shut up about it. She put very little conscious effort into the audition, and consequently was very surprised when she learned of her acceptance. This had caused quite a row between the two friends, Meg emerged the victor, saying that Christine's father would have wanted her to keep music a part of her life. For all that Christine told herself since his death, she couldn't disagree.