A/N: I have decided to name every chapter after a song (providing I can think of one) Brownie points to anyone who can name the artist.

Chapter 1- She

Six Years Earlier.

The white froth of the ocean lapped at the beach like fingertips reaching out. Christine Daae sat with her feet buried in the sand staring out at the sun slowly lowering itself towards the horizon. A deep sigh built in her chest and she let it escape her lips as she closed her eyes and lay back in the sand. It was not a warm day, the wind was blowing all around her, but sometimes she felt that this was the only peace she got. She was in Portugal touring with her father while he was playing violin at the smaller theatres. There was never any doubt in her mind that her father was a great man, a great musician and more than this, a great father but because of his status he never got the recognition he deserved.

They had toured France and Spain, Portugal was the last stop for them and she, though she hated to upset her father, was glad. The travelling took its toll on her, it made her weary and it made her long for home. Briefly, her mind flitted back to when her mother was alive, when Christine was a child, and she remembered their travels then quite fondly. Perhaps it was that she sometimes felt abandoned alone out here. Not that she blamed her father, how could she? All that he was doing was providing for her and making sure that they ate and slept in peace.

A familiar sound made her open her eyes with dread and she glanced to her left. The boys staying at the hotel just minutes from her own were all walking along the beach towards her. Her heart suddenly felt heavy, she knew they had seen her. She had met them the first night she was here and because of her strange accent they mocked her.

They seemed to take pleasure in making her feel inadequate and making her feel stupid. I'm not stupid, she thought, I am educated and talented.

I am not stupid.

As they approached she knew it was too late for her to get up and run away. Instead she carefully rose to her feet, pulling her scarf around her neck to fend off the breeze, and turned her back.

One of the boys shouted something but she could not make out what he was saying. They made some more ground and one of the younger ones threw sand at her.

'Christine,' One of them called and she gritted her teeth. Why did it always sound like an insult when shouted from their mouths?

Another boy pushed in front of his friend. 'Such a pretty name,' he said. 'Shame your face doesn't match it,'

Christine felt hot as the other boys laughed at their friend's cruel joke. She turned quickly and began to walk in the opposite direction. She knew that she was not beautiful, she knew that she was not rich but she did not understand why these boys picked on her.

'Where are you going?'

She ignored him and continued to walk, hoping that they would turn and leave her alone. Of course, she hoped in vain.

One ran to catch her up.

'Stay a while,' he said, a hard glint in his eye.

'I don't want to,' she whispered as he stood in front of her, stopping her from walking away.

'Aww,' he said, a laugh caught in his throat. 'Pretty please... we won't hurt you,'

She shook her head. 'I have to go,'

She tried to brush past him but the tallest boy grabbed her arm and pulled her back, flinging her into the middle of the crowd. She looked around her, seeing that there was four of them, and felt a sense of defeat wash over her.

'We want to talk to you,' one of the smaller boys said.

Another nodded. 'That's all,' he laughed.

'How old are you?' another boy asked.

'Fourteen,' she murmured.

'You're a beanstalk,' one laughed.

'Please leave me alone,' she said quietly but it only made them laugh more.

'We're not doing anything,'

She blinked away tears, telling herself that she should not let these boys make her feel bad and she should not show them that she was in any way frightened or upset. Again she made a move to walk past them but the tall boy grabbed her again. The pain was intense in her arm and she gasped in pain but it only made him squeeze her harder.

She yelped.

'Let her go!'

She blinked and looked around her, trying to see where the sound had come from. Was someone really trying to help her? To her right she caught sight of two people walking towards them, one was young, maybe a little older than her and the other was older, perhaps in his twenties.

The boys stared at them.

'Now,' the older man said, getting closer to them.

The boy dropped her arm and stepped back away. 'You always ruin our fun,' he said, pulling a face.

'This is fun for you?' the older man said, standing next to her. She looked up at him in awe. Thank you, thank you.

The tall boy said nothing but looked at his feet.

'I asked you a question,' he said, his voice deep and powerful. 'Is this what you call fun? Picking on a defenceless young lady?'

His anger made the boys back away.

'Sorry Philippe,' said the tall boy.

'You will be sorry if I catch you doing it again,' he growled.

With these words it was done, the boys turned on their heels and ran away, looking scared. The older man, Philippe, looked down at her.

'Are you alright?' he asked, looking at her carefully. The younger boy stood by her side.

'Yes,' she said, trying desperately to hold back her tears. 'Thank you,'

He nodded. 'Raoul,' he said to the younger boy. 'See she gets back to her hotel, if those boys come near her again you have my permission to run them through... little terrors,'

Raoul smiled. 'Certainly, it would be my pleasure,' he said.

Christine watched as Philippe moved away and she finally found the courage to look at Raoul. How pretty he was. She had never before seen a boy so pretty. His face, not handsome, but stunning. Smooth skin and long blonde hair, tied neatly back, it glowed golden under the setting sun. He had the most beautiful eyes, hazel green. She was taken aback by how perfect he looked.

'Now, where is your hotel?' he asked. He had a voice of pure confidence and upper class.

She felt her heart sink.

She pointed. 'It is that one at the top of the hill,'

He smiled. 'Then I shall walk you back,'

'It's unnecessary,' she said softly, feeling embarrassed.

'I insist,' he said, grinning. 'You can tell me about yourself as we walk. What is your name?'

'Christine Daae,' she said.

'Raoul de Chagny,' he said, offering his hand. When she took it he raised it to his lips and kissed it gently. A flush crept quickly along her cheeks. 'That was my brother, Philippe,'

'Thank you for helping me,' she murmured.

'Think nothing of it,' he said. 'My brother simply can't stand bullies, finds them repulsive.'

She smiled.

'They won't bother you again, that I can promise you,'

'He knows them,' she said.

'Yes,' Raoul answered, taking her arm and hooking it through his. 'Well... he knows their fathers, where is your chaperone? You really shouldn't be out alone,'

She blushed. 'I don't have one,'

He stopped, stared at her. 'Why on earth not?'

'I...' she felt her breath catch. 'I'm not rich... we... my father and I... don't have much money,'

'I see,' he said and smiled. 'Well, if you need someone to accompany you from now on you should come to me,'

'Oh, no,' she said. 'No, I couldn't,'

'Why not?'

'That would be a terrible imposition,'

He grinned. 'For who?'

'You,' she said and felt her blush reappear.

'No imposition,' he said simply. 'Besides, I'd quite like to see you again,'

They had just started walking up the hill towards her hotel and she stopped, staring at him blankly. Had he just told her that he wanted to see her again?? She, Christine Daae, the ugly skinny girl.

'Why?' she asked.

'Why not?'

'Do you always answer a question with a question?' she asked.

'Do you?' he laughed, placing his hand on hers. 'No, really, you seem very lovely and there is so little to do here that when you meet someone interesting you want to spend your time with them,'

Her face and neck felt hot. 'Why are you here then?' she asked, giving in to her building sense of curiosity.

'My family are here on some business,' he said, looking away. 'What about you?'

'Family too...' she said. 'My father is a violinist, he is performing at some of the local theatres,'

'Really?' Raoul said, looking at her, suddenly his eyes were alight. 'I love music,'

'Do you?' she asked.

'Doesn't everyone?' he said. 'Do you think we could go and see him play?

Christine frowned. 'His shows sell out,' she said. 'You can come up to see him tomorrow if you like, at our hotel... I'm sure he will play for you,'

'That would be wonderful,' he said, not even trying to contain his enthusiasm.

Silence fell between them as they got closer to the door of the hotel. She glanced sideways at him, trying not to let him see her staring. The wind swept a loose section of hair over his face and he ran his hand over his head, pushing it back. It was smooth, nothing seemed to bother him or unnerve him. He seemed completely at ease with who he was and how he looked. At that moment she almost envied him or rather she would have if she could get over the unusual feeling of attraction.

Raoul seemed almost oblivious to her staring at him, he was looking around him, enjoying the views and the weather on his face.

'What are you family on business for?' she asked, realising that she hadn't earlier.

'Oh, nothing much,' he said.

'I told you,' she said and felt immediately childish.

'It's nothing really,' he said, showing her his easy smile. She felt her heart give a thud, reminding her that it was still there and had not fluttered away with the fairies.

She pouted, felt girlish but kept her lips sullen.

'We're just...' he said, paused. 'It's not at all interesting, not nearly as interesting as your father being a musician,'

'Please,' she said.

'We're visiting the Prince,' he said. Christine blinked. 'I told you, utterly dull.'

'Are you being honest?'

He nodded. 'My father is Comte Pierre De Chagny, he and my mother are staying at the palace, my brother, sister and I choose to stay at a hotel,'

Still reeling, Christine stared.

'I didn't want this to change the way you behave around me,' he said softly. 'I wanted you to be fine with being my friend,'

'I...I am...' she stuttered, was she though?

'You sound it,' he said quickly.

She swallowed. 'I don't have many friends,' she whispered.

'Well, now you have one more,' he said with that warm smile. 'What time should I come by tomorrow?'

'Umm...'

'Breakfast?' he asked.

'I have breakfast with my father,' she said.

He nodded. 'Then for lunch?' I shall show you some of the village.

'Lunch,' she said, feeling suddenly completely grown up. She took a breath, deep and long, and walked inside her hotel, heart beating hard in her chest.

Raoul de Chagny, she thought, that's something she would not be forgetting for a long time.

There was a small fire casting light and heat around the small hotel room. Only a few of the ground floor rooms had a fire, the rest simply had a bed. Under normal circumstances Charles Daae could never afford a room of such luxury but these were not normal circumstances. He had befriended the owner of the hotel some months ago at a concert in Sweden and was now sitting in the most comfortable room for free. Of course, Charles never took this for granted, and had played in the hotel dining room for the guests in manner of paying his way.

Resting his head against the back of the chair he closed his eyes and sighed, wondering if he might get some rest before the concert that evening. He took in a long, soothing breath and let his mind wander free but it did not wander a long way because never far from his thoughts was his daughter. He felt his body sag with sorrow in the chair.

He wished he could do more for her, give her the life that she most certainly deserved. She was more than patient with the travelling and him spending every night out at shows. Poor child, he thought, feeling a wave of sadness roll into him.

The door creaked open.

'Are you sleeping, father?' Christine whispered and had he been asleep he knew that this would not have woken him.

'No,' he said. 'I am awake, come in and sit with me,'

He glanced over and she smiled, taking the seat next to the fire. She placed her hands out and he watched as they glowed red and orange from reflections of the flames.

'Are you well?' he asked, sitting up straight.

'Yes,' she said.

'Where have you been?' he asked. 'You've been gone quite a while...'

'I'm sorry,' she replied. 'I was on the beach.'

He eyed her carefully for a moment, felt the familiar feeling of over protectiveness pour into his veins. 'Alone?'

'At first,' she said.

'Oh,'

She looked at him. 'I met a boy...'

Charles heart thumped hard. 'Who is he?'

'Oh father,' she said rolling her eyes. 'He is just a boy who walked me back.'

'Yet you don't answer my question,' he said, forcing himself to sound jovial, though he felt anything but. My girl, he thought.

'His name is Raoul de Chagny,' she said quietly.

Charles leaned forward, a sudden jump in his chest. 'De Chagny?' he asked, heart fluttering.

She nodded.

'Vicomte De Chagny?'

Again she nodded, this time with a frown.

'Was his brother there?' he asked.

'Philippe?' she asked and he answered with a nod. 'Yes,'

'I know Philippe,' Charles said softly.

'You know him?' she looked confused. 'How do you know him?'

'He attends my shows usually, though I haven't seen him this time,'

'Are you friends?' Christine asked.

'No, no,' he said. 'No... he is aristocracy, we are acquainted, he is a good
man,'

She smiled. 'Raoul and I shall be having lunch in the town tomorrow, do you mind?'

He felt a sigh in his chest but managed to stop it. Of course he minded that his young daughter was finding her own feet, that she was slowly blossoming into a lovely young lady. How could he not mind that soon men would be taking her away from him? But at least Raoul de Chagny could be trusted.

'No of course not,' he said. 'Just be careful,'

'I'm always careful,' she said walking over to him and kissing his forehead gently. He held her hand.

'I just worry about you,' he said feeling a lump in his throat.

'I know you do,' she said. 'But there's no need, I can take care of myself,'

He smiled and kissed the back of her hand. 'Tough girl,' he laughed.

She laughed too. 'Well, Raoul would really like to hear you play, I said that maybe he could come by tomorrow evening,'

Charles nodded.

'You don't mind?' she asked.

'Christine,' he said softly, squeezing her hand. 'I don't mind, I would do anything for you,'