Disclaimer: I own neither Les Miserables nor The Devil Wears Prada in book or movie form. Which is for the best, I'm sure.

A/N: Thank you to menzosarres for the idea for this fic, the encouragement to write it, and the proper placement of commas ;)

Thank you to Jaz for reading it dutifully and listening to me worry constantly while typing incoherently in all caps.

And thank you, of course, to my incredible girlfriend ryaninthesky for having to deal with me shouting and flailing at 2 in the morning because I couldn't decide which direction I wanted a plot point to go.

I couldn't ask for better betas xo

And thanks to all of you out there for reading :) I hope you like it! This is my first mirandy fic, so I hope I do the fandom proud.

Chapter 1

Oh, oh no. He's walking over here. He's coming to talk to me again. I really wish he wouldn't, I have nothing to say to the likes of him, Andrea thought as the foreman sauntered over leering at her. He came much too close and she accidentally pricked herself with her needle as she attempted to shy away from him. He proceeded to take her hands and ask if she was alright. She nodded politely, trying not to egg him on. I know all the other women here despise me. I feel them watching, looking over their shoulders as he talks to me. I haven't even been here very long, but somehow I've managed to gain their distrust without even trying. Perhaps it's because the foreman favours me... It's not as though I want his attention. He's a disgusting pig. Andrea tried not to flinch as the foreman touched any part of her he could get his grubby hands on. She knew she upset him by ignoring his advances, but she was afraid and wanted nothing more than for him to leave her alone. I can feel those women looking over at me and I just know they've been talking about me. I don't want any trouble. I just... I have a family to provide for. I am minding my own business after all. It was the end of the working day and everyone was putting away their tools and aprons. Andrea did her best to keep to herself. She held a letter in her hand and was hoping to leave the factory in order to rest before the next gruelling day at work. Unfortunately, one of the other women saw the letter and snatched it from her hand before Andrea was able to stop her. The woman opened the letter and began to read it aloud as some of the other women in the factory jeered at Andrea.

"Dear Andrea, you must send us more money. Your child needs a doctor, there's no time to lose." Some of the women surrounding Andrea gasped at this revelation.

"Give me that letter, it is none of your business." Andrea hissed as she snatched back the letter while the woman managed to look wholly affronted. "Is there anyone here who can say they've nothing to hide?"

"Give me that!" The woman grabbed the letter away from Andrea and began shouting "Foreman! Foreman!" as Andrea tried to wrestle the letter back again.

"Hey! Come on, stop that!" the foreman barked. "Madame. Priestly is here!"

At that precise moment, a very glamorous looking woman dressed in a man's jacket and pants made of the finest materials available sauntered in. Her outfit was topped off by perfectly coiffed silver hair. The woman in question was the infamous Miranda Priestly. Everyone knew about Miranda Priestly; she was second fiddle to none other than Nigel Kippling. Nigel owned and edited the Journal des Dames et des Modes, the premier fashion magazine in France. He owned about a dozen clothing factories as well as the magazine. It was well known that his opinion resonated throughout the fashion industry. It was rumoured that he would send Miranda Priestly out to his various factories to observe their progress on occasion, though a visit from the fashion maven was, nonetheless, extremely rare. Miranda Priestly was accompanied by a rather harried looking redheaded woman.

"Emily, I simply do not understand why it's so difficult to find a factory that operates efficiently." Miranda's low, smooth voice floated through the stale air of the factory. Is this what I pay them for? To bicker? Hardly, Miranda thought, fighting back an eye roll.

"I know, I'm so sorry Miranda," the redheaded girl muttered, looking even more out of sorts as she glared pointedly at the factory women.

All of the factory women scrambled to get out of the way of the imposing figure that was Miranda.

"Foreman, is this squabbling common behaviour on your floor?" Miranda questioned calmly, not even bothering to glance in the direction of the foreman.

"M-Mme. Priestly, no of course not I-"

"You may address me as Miranda, and the tales of your incompetence do not interest me," came Miranda's sharp reply. Andrea and the woman she had been fighting with were quickly separated by their colleagues. Andrea couldn't help but be in awe of the way Miranda Priestly could be so undeniably commanding without raising her voice one bit. "We run a business here. This is completely unacceptable. I am very disappointed." At that moment Miranda looked up and caught the eye of someone Andrea couldn't see from her vantage point. Even if she had been able to see who Miranda was gazing at intently, it wouldn't have mattered. Andrea's eyes were fixed solidly on the ground before her. Nothing good can possibly come from this. Even with the distraction Miranda provided I can't imagine the women here letting this issue die... It isn't like I want to be here, I have no choice, I need the work, Andrea thought with mounting concern.

"I expect you to deal with this... Situation... Quickly and effectively, foreman," Miranda said in a deeper, even more hushed voice as she walked toward the factory stairs slowly. Emily scurried after her. What on earth is he doing here... Miranda wondered, panic bubbling up in the pit of her stomach, but she had learned long before never to show emotion that an enemy might use against you. What if he recognizes me. It's unlikely, I've changed my person significantly in the years past, but nonetheless... No, never. Irv Ravitz will not get to me again. Never. Again, she told herself. I am a successful woman now, I run my business with pride. Everything that Irv is is a part of my past and it will remain there. She climbed the stairs of the grimy factory, intent on confronting her past head on.

"Who began this?" the foreman sputtered. Several women were quick to speak against Andrea.

"She's hiding a child. She has to pay a man to care for it. You can bet she picks up extra money sleeping around. She's menace and the boss wouldn't like it," said the woman who'd originally taken the letter from Andrea.

"Yes, it's true there's a child and the child is my daughter. The father abandoned us and now she lives with an innkeeper and his wife. I pay for her keep, what's the matter with that? I'm only trying to make an honest living. I need this!" Andrea exclaimed. The other factory workers proceeded to mutter about how Andrea would be nothing but trouble. Andrea was trying very hard not to cry, but there were tears of anger, frustration, and hopelessness in her eyes nonetheless.

"Ah, of course. Pure, innocent Andrea. I might have guessed it would be you who caused trouble," the foreman spat at her. Andrea shook her head furiously at him. She wanted desperately to explain, but no words came to her. "You act so virtuous, but you're really just a whore, aren't you?" Andrea, unable to hold back any longer slapped the foreman across the face. He simply smirked back at her. The other women in the factory shouted "Sack her!" "She's nothing but trouble!" Andrea continued to shake her head helplessly, knowing there was nothing more she could do now.

"Alright my girl, on your way." The foreman continued to smirk in a disgustingly self-satisfied way. He began dragging Andrea out by her arm. In a final, desperate attempt Andrea threw herself up the stairs screaming, "Miranda, Miranda, please, madame, please, I have a child!" She did not know why she thought this woman she did not even know would help her, but she had to try something. In the end she found herself thrown out on the street, sobbing violently to herself. Merde, what am I going to do now. I have to save my beautiful child. Her tears stained the pavement.

What was all of that about...? Miranda wondered, dumbfounded, as she watched her foreman shut the door on the screaming girl who had just been thrown out into the cold. She didn't ponder the question for long though; she had more important matters to attend to, like confronting her former captor.

"Good evening Mme. Priestly," Irv said staunchly.

"You may call me Miranda," she informed the atrocious little man.

"Yes Miranda. I am the officer in charge of this sector. My men are at your service and that of M. Kippling."

"That's very forward thinking of you, Irving." Clearly he doesn't recognize me. Hopefully he never will.

"You know me, madame?"

"Doesn't everyone. You're exactly the kind of man to have in one's back pocket."

"I am NO ONE'S pet Mme. Priestly!" Irv sputtered angrily.

"Miranda. And it's no concern of mine what you consider yourself to be. Nigel and I appreciate all that you and your men do to keep the dogs of the press from mauling us constantly." Miranda flashed him her most disingenuous smile. The smile hurt her face. He was the last person in the world she would ever smile at. But business was business.

"That isn't all we do and you know it." Irv looked as though he was going to continue his rampage, when Miranda cut him off.

"Naturally, naturally. Well, we look forward to your cooperation in matters of business. It's been lovely meeting you, I'm sure. Emily, what time is my dinner with Edward?"

"It's at 8, Miranda," said the young woman, who looked quite ready to leave the dismal factory. Emily quite dreaded these visits. The factories were always so depressing and the workers so dirty, she couldn't understand why Miranda always insisted on looking in on such places herself.

"We'd better go then, hadn't we," Miranda said curtly, turning sharply on her heels to make her exit, but not before glancing at Irv with lips pursed and an eyebrow raised in disapproval. He simply gaped back at her. She hoped that wasn't a hint of recognition that gleamed in his beady eyes.

Once she was comfortably situated in her carriage with Emily, she stared out of the window. In her efforts to avoid thoughts of her rather sordid past her mind flitted over the image of the girl that had been thrown out of her factory. What had the girl done? She hadn't even thought to ask.

What can I do. Cosette needs a doctor, I have to do something. There has to be some way for me to get money. Thinking furiously Andrea remembered Cosette's locket. It contained a lock of her darling daughter's hair. She could sell it. The locket was precious to her, of course, it was all she had left of her daughter now, but Cosette was more precious. She could part with the locket if it meant her baby would be well.

Andrea walked down to the docks of Montreuil-sur-Mer. Looking around the place was dingy, dark, cold, and terrifying, but she hadn't expected any less. She did her best to hold her head up high while also trying not to make eye contact with anyone. She wanted nothing to do with these people. She would die before sinking this low. I'm only here to sell this locket, she told herself. Nothing more. I'll collect the money I need and I'll leave. I don't know where I'll go, but I'll manage, she coached herself firmly. She tried to keep this mantra going in her head in order to ward off her fears and the dangers that were present all around her.

Voices laughed and shouted from various dark nooks and crannies. Prostitutes lined the walls, eyeing her with disdain. She saw a man who she was told would pay her for the locket. Andrea took a deep breath and approached the man.

"Bonsoir Monsieur. How much for this? It's my daughter's..." Andrea forced herself to say, her voice coming out as no more than a murmur as she showed the man the locket and chain.

"It'll be four francs for that." A voice that somehow managed to sound grimy and musty intoned.

"No! It's worth ten." Andrea insisted. This locket was her only hope and she knew it. The man only scoffed at her in reply and began to turn away. "Fine, four then." Deciding she had no other choice, she grudgingly accepted the money.

A man, more of a boy really, approached her. He got too close. His breath smelled of liquor; he was attempting to proposition her. In her haste to back away she dropped the lock of Cosette's hair on the ground. She dropped down immediately, frantically searching for the golden lock. Grabbing it and standing up, Andrea found herself surrounded by women selling their bodies and men hungry to spend their hard earned pay. She wanted nothing more than to escape the hell hole she had somehow fallen down.

Terror gripped her firmly as she ran past the gaggle of people and turned around a corner. Once she was alone she leaned against a nearby wall and sank down to the ground in defeat. She realised now that she had nowhere to go. Now that she had been kicked out of the factory she would no longer have enough money for room and board. She hadn't been given a reference, so her chances of acquiring another job were incredibly slim. She knew only that she had to escape this place. Four francs would have to do for the moment. With the money the foreman had thrown at her after tossing her out on the curb it would be enough to send to the Innkeeper for a doctor for her daughter. It wouldn't leave any money for food or shelter, but her life was not the one that mattered. Andrea had acquired a very singular purpose. Protect Cosette at all costs. Even at any cost to her own life. She set off to collect her belongings from her lodgings and send off what little money she had.

Several days later, another letter had come asking for more money. Though she hated the idea, she returned to the docks in the hopes that she could sell some article of clothing in order to raise the money. Andrea was living on the streets now. She was cold and hungry and to make matters worse her cough was worsening by the day. She walked along the soot coated walls looking for someone to whom she could sell her wares. After several hours of fruitlessly attempting to exchange what little she had for money she turned to leave the horrible, dismal place, when a cold, clammy hand grabbed her arm. Gasping softly Andrea turned to face the person to whom the hand belonged.

"What pretty hair," came the voice of some old crow. "It would fetch a lot of money, my dear. I'll take the lot." She crooned, reaching up and stroking Andrea's brunette tresses with her slimy hands.

"Don't touch me. Leave me alone!" Andrea said pointedly, turning to leave, only to be blocked by several prostitutes who did not look in the mood to negotiate.

"I'll give you all of ten francs for it," the woman said in a saccharine way that caused Andrea to shiver.

I really do need the money. Cosette needs the money. I have to do whatever I can to save my darling girl. What difference can the loss of my hair make anyway, right? It's only hair, it will grow back in time... Time my child doesn't have. Ten francs may save my poor Cosette. I'll do it.

"Ten francs, what do you think of that offer?" Andrea said nothing, but followed the woman into some dingy hole. Tears formed in her eyes as she allowed the woman to hack off her long brunette tresses with an unreasonably dull razor. She felt more than the loss of her hair. She could feel her dignity and her drive slowly dripping away. I just need the money, she continued to tell herself. I need it for my baby, I'm not like these people. I'm not. I might be desperate but I am nothing like those women out there.

Andrea immediately went to go post the money. Somehow she managed to selflessly think only of Cosette as she sent away money that could have bought her something to eat. She coughed aggressively into her ungloved hand. She shivered as she walked, wrapping her thin shawl more tightly around her shoulders.

The next time Andrea found herself at the docks, a voice as distastefully sweet as the woman's who had taken Andrea's hair spoke to her. "Come over here. It's twenty francs for a tooth," the man coaxed. A woman, who was clearly accustomed to selling her body as well as teeth, joined the man in attempting to cajole Andrea into parting with her molars. Andrea coughed into her meagre shawl. The coughing had begun to wrack through her weakening body. She had been trying to shrug it off, more important things were at stake than her health. Andrea asked the pair to be given her money first, but she was simply laughed at. Two of her teeth were painfully torn out as she wailed and money was shoved haphazardly in her hand. It's worth it. Of course it's worth it. I need it. Cosette needs it.

Andrea sunk to the ground against a hard cold wall. Very aware of the gaps that existed where her teeth had previously resided. There was nothing left. He mouth ached terribly and the only reason she could come up with to keep living was the well being of her daughter. She didn't even know how the girl was doing. Any manner of things could have happened, if she were honest with herself. She might never see her Cosette again. Suddenly Andrea found herself set upon by a gaggle of whores.

"You aren't better than any of the rest of us, you know," one prostitute leered. Andrea simply shook her head. Her mouth hurt too much to respond. It wouldn't have been in her interest to respond anyway. After all, she did think she was better than them. She had done a lot of things for survival that she regretted in the light of day, but at least she wasn't selling her body. There had only ever been one man… The one who had gotten her pregnant with her beloved, golden haired child. He had spent a summer by her side, making her feel loved and wanted. Only to leave when autumn came, leaving Andrea not only alone, but with child. I loved him… And I was sure he loved me back. I was sure of it. He carelessly stole my childhood away. Leaving me no choice but to look for work. Like an idiot I still dream he'll return and save me from this hell, but I know it's not to be. Sometimes I see him in my baby's face… That face gives me such hope somehow.

"You're stuck here, you've nowhere else to go," snarked another whore, jarring Andrea from her reverie.

"Join your sisters, make money in your sleep." They didn't sound malicious, exactly...

"What choice do you have anyway?" Perhaps this is as comforting and gentle as they know how to be. Andrea shuddered at the thought. They did seem to have a point though. She knew from observation that they made decent money down by the docks. Sailors who had been out at sea for a long time with no one to come home to were plentiful and a quick lay was in high demand.

Andrea resisted at first, but she had known for a long time that her lofty ideals were dwindling quickly. She did not know if she would ever see her child again, but she would be damned if her daughter was going to die simply because her mother could not provide for her. Andrea knew that she would do anything, give anything, so that her Cosette might live. For this reason Andrea eventually allowed herself to be pulled up from the ground by her arms. One of the women handed her something to drink. She swallowed the liquid in one gulp. It was disgusting, but she could feel it help a bit with the pain, or perhaps the stinging sensation just brought a welcome distraction from her constant agony. It was all she could do to limp forward. Every part of her ached and hurt. She was so cold. So cold very cold all over.

Yet, at the same time, she felt as if nothing could hurt her. The darkness and the cold had engulfed her. What does it matter? she thought. What does anything matter anymore; I've nowhere to go. No one is going to save me from this desolation. Those women were right, I'm just like them now. There's no way out. I might as well sell my body. It no longer seems to belong to me anyway. I cannot possibly hurt more than I do now. I'll probably never see my girl again... If she's still alive, she'll have to go on without ever having a mother... It does not matter what happens to me now. And with those thoughts she closed herself off completely.

Andrea took the hand of the man she was instructed to please. She led him to where they could be alone. He kissed her neck. His breath smelled strongly of liquor. She allowed him to take what he wanted, he was paying after all. He pawed at her until he finally pushed her down on a mat and pushed up her skirt. He continued to kiss her neck as he thrust into her.

For her part, Andrea simply stared up at the ceiling, tears leaking from her eyes. Her last vestiges of hope leaving her body. She wondered if the man inside of her knew he was making love to a woman who was already dead. Dead of mind if not yet of body.

When he had finished, he rose and threw a few francs in her general direction. She did not get up for a few hours. She lay there. Thinking, crying, in pain, and out of hope.

After that many men came and went. Paying her for her services. She no longer cried over it. She no longer cried at all. It seemed she had run out of tears at some point. She sent everything she could to the innkeeper who, in turn, kept sending her letters claiming that Cosette was benefiting from the care of doctors and was sure to get better soon, but not quite yet. Days rolled over into weeks. Andrea no longer paid attention to the passage of time. Time only reminded her of the pain she was constantly in. She was coughing harder and more frequently now, but she continued to do her best to ignore it. It wasn't as if she could do anything about it anyway. She often wondered if illness would claim her soon. She would not be surprised if death came for her; she wondered if she would go to hell when she did die. She imagined she probably would, unfortunately she couldn't find it in herself to muster enough energy to really care much about that. Her life felt dark, dingy and meaningless. She blended in perfectly with her surroundings. She felt nothing.

Time wore on and winter came. Snow had previously seemed light and whimsical to Andrea. Now it simply made her feel colder, though the feeling hardly registered. She could feel herself growing sicker and sicker, but there still wasn't anything she could do about it. She simply accepted the growing pain and increased coughing for what it was. She had come to terms with a fate that she felt was inevitable.

An eager looking dandy approached her after having waved off all of the other women offered to him. He removed his top hat as he strode toward Andrea.

"What have we here?" he asked smugly, lifting the hem of her dress with his cane.

"Nothing to interest you, Monsieur," Andrea replied curtly, mustering as much gall as her broken and beaten form would allow.

"You've got some nerve you whore!" he sputtered. Reaching behind Andrea he grabbed a handful of snow, shoving it down the front of her dress. Andrea screamed in shock and flailed wildly, trying to beat him off. In her struggle to throw him off she scratched his face. The cuts were deep; the man was bleeding.

"Ow!" the man howled. "Oh, you can be sure you'll pay for this! I'll make sure you suffer."

Unfortunately for Andrea several policemen chose that precise moment to walk down a set of nearby stairs toward where Andrea and the man were standing.

"Monsieur, please, please don't report me, please! I'll do anything! I'll do anything you ask!" Andrea begged helplessly. The man simply turned away to address the police.

"Officer, you'll never believe it! I was lost here, down by the docks. When suddenly, out of nowhere I was attacked by this putain!" he sputtered, putting on his best innocent victim act.

"Monsieur, you can be sure that if you make a full report this woman will be taken in and made to answer to the court," the officer who appeared to be in charge answered. The man Andrea had scratched was looking at her with the most disgustingly smug look she'd ever seen.

Andrea, who had by that time fallen to her knees, continued to beg. "Please, please, there is a child who needs me! I'm all she has... If I got to jail she'll die!"

"You think I haven't heard this all before, my dear? I have heard such stories for nearly 20 years now. Your chosen professor is your own sin, you must live with that and justice must be done," replied the officer calmly.

Just then a figure emerged from the shadows. Andrea recognized her immediately, even if she had not gotten a glimpse of the distinctly silver hair, she could not have mistaken the voice.

Miranda walked the dark alleys of the docks of Montreuil-sur-Mer preparing to hand out money and bread to those most in need. To anyone who knew her it would seem a most uncharacteristic act. She never told anyone of these outings, not even her personal assistant, Emily. She didn't want anyone to know that she did this or why. Naturally, no one ever questioned where she went. She was the Miranda Priestly after all, those closest to her knew never to ask after her actions or motives. She did not exactly perform these acts of charity out of the kindness of her heart. Once, years ago, back when she had been someone else entirely, a man had given her a second chance. As much she wished she could let go of her past it still haunted her daily. She knew that that one event had completely altered the course of her existence and without that second chance she would not have the empire she had built from nothing. She paid penance to this reality by walking dangerous streets weekly in the hopes of helping in some small way. She also donated frequently to churches that housed and fed the needy. All anonymously, of course. Miranda had just removed herself from her lavish carriage, which looked unmistakably out of place, and was handing a scruffy man who was missing a leg some bread and some coin when she heard a scuffle nearby. She instantly recognized a voice she had loathed for years and would never forget. Irv. He was speaking to a young woman who was being held upright by two of Irv's men. Miranda was appalled by the scene unfolding before her. She could not have explained why, but she felt a deep pull toward this girl. The overwhelming need to protect her sent Miranda reeling. She instantly disliked the feeling and her first survival instinct was to ignore the emotions entire, but time had taught her to trust her emotional intuition - especially when it came to recognizing the true potential in people - so instead she cleared her throat.

"A moment of your time Irv," Miranda sniffed in her customary low, clipped tone.

"M-Mme Priestly. What on earth are you doing here?" Irv questioned as he whipped around, surprise evident in his voice. They hadn't come across each other in months and the docks were of course no place for a lady to be, however, Miranda look nothing like a lady. She was dressed in a man's brown trousers, a navy blue coat with a tall collar, a white cravat, and a top hat. She looked quite dapper, in fact.

"Please, Irv, call me Miranda," she said, flashing him a distinctly false smile, not that he would ever notice the distortion. "This girl is ill. She requires a doctor, not a jail." Andrea looked into the face of the woman who had neglected to save her so many months before. By this time the sergeants had relinquished their hold on Andrea and she staggered a few paces away from them.

"I've seen you before." Miranda's voice was softer around the edges now. "Let me help you. How did you come to be here? Allow me see your face..."

"Madame, do not mock me," Andrea spat. "I have lost my pride and my worth already. There is no reason for you to be cruel on top of it. You let your foreman send me away. You were there, and you let him do it! You let this happen!" This time Andrea really did spit at her. Miranda simply looked on with an expression of barely controlled shock. "My daughter will die now without me..."

"You will come with me," Miranda intoned. Her face was steely. She pulled Andrea up by her hand, but Andrea was shaky on her feet. Andrea tried to walk forward, but her knees buckled under her. Miranda placed one of the girl's arms over her shoulder as she supported her by her waist. "I'm taking you to a hospital. Where is your daughter? I will find her," Miranda said as gently as she could, shouldering Andrea's weight with little effort.

"Madame Priestly-" Irv cautioned, but Miranda simply ignored him and continued walking.

"Sh-she's with an Innkeeper and his wife. The Thénardiers." Andrea wept, not bothering to hold back her tears of happiness. Though she was almost certain death would claim her soon, she would at least be able to see her baby girl once more before the end. The last thing Andrea remembered seeing was the inside of Miranda's lavish carriage before she fell unconscious as she heard Miranda shout at her driver to hurry.