A/N: Hey guys! This is the first chapter of my Les Miserables story.

I know that this is a classic and it will be hard to remember, but I've given some of the characters who didn't have first or first names depending on which one fits better. I'll list those and the ones that are already made up. Next to the ones I made up an additional name to I will put MU and the ones that are all original to Les Mis I will leave blank.

Enjolras (MU) De Beaumont

(MU) Frederique Combeferre

(MU) Alexandre Courfeyrac

Grantaire (MU) De Ancelate

Joly (MU) De Chatagneau

Lesgles (MU) Demain

Jean Prouvaire

Marius Pontmercy

Cosette Tholomyes

Eponine Thenardiers

Enjoy! :)

Enjolras held his breath as his friend let out a hearty laugh, hitting him in the face with a strong waft of his beer ridden breath. He had one arm around Grantaire's upper body to support him and the other grasping onto Grantaire's other arm, which was slung over his shoulder. They had just come from their friends who were all. tipsy, though not to the extent that Grantaire was. They had celebrated the addition of twenty six men to the revolution this night, and after, Enjolras suspected at least, three hours of the (no doubt, ongoing) festivities, Grantaire had hoisted himself up onto a table, causing the occupants of the table to slide their drinks out of the way for him, and began an old French folk song, hopping up and down alternating on each foot. He'd had the whole crowd in a merry uproar just before he fell off the table. So, Enjolras had gathered his friend from the floor and bid there goodbyes for the night and here they were, Enjolras guiding his friend steadily and Grantaire teetering along, swinging his half empty liquor bottle and spouting dangerous nonsense.

"Oh! that I may live to see the day that i'm crowned king!" Grantaire shouts, drunkenly swinging the liquor bottle in his free hand. Enjolras knows he should try to stop him from saying this, because he could get arrested or even hanged from shouting things like this, but he lets it slide and can't help the laugh that escaped him. Even so, as they make there way down the paved streets to where Grantaire lives, he keeps a weary eye out for soldiers. He had had little to drink, knowing that there had to be someone sensible there, so though his instincts weren't as razor sharp as usual, he was alert of everything around him. "I'll probably show up late and miss the whole ceremony!" He shouted dramatically.

Hardly able to keep the grin off his face, he dared to jest, "Ah! But if you were to be crowned king then surely you wouldn't miss it, since you would indeed have to be there for you to be crowned."

Enjolras laughed as realization dawned on his friends face and he said, "You know, I do believe you're right!"

He shook his head, laughing at his hopeless friend and they continued down the street merrily, almost running into a couple buildings on the way, until they finally made it to Grantaire's house. He knocked on the door, simultaneously trying to keep Grantaire from falling over and waited for someone to come and get it. Grantaire had his father, mother and brother Francois. His father found work in the factory, and his brother was a soldier like Grantaire and himself, his mother however was in failing health and had been for some time now. They didn't have the money to get a doctor or the medicine to help her body heal, so both Francois and their father were working most of the day and through the night, just barely scraping by. Most of their money goes towards food, but they have other needs; boots, wood, blankets, and the needs only increase the closer winter gets.

He looked up as the old door opened revealing a tall, muscular boy with dark messy hair and equally dark eyes; Francois. He resembled their father in almost every way, just like Grantaire. He resembled his brother greatly, but with smoother skin and younger features, Francois had always been the pretty boy of the group however. His dark hair was somehow always smooth and with the dirt smudged on his face he had that handsome rascal look. He was far more charming than his brother and despite his circumstances had impeccable manners. He was innocent in his youth and had not yet seen the true horrors and sorrow of the world around him. Though he had had his fair share of grief and toil. He was so young to be working as hard as he did at the ripe age of seventeen.

Francois smiled brightly at him before assessing the situation, looking at his elder brothers drunken state and laughed. Grantaire was almost dead on his feet, leaning forward and being almost entirely supported by Enjolras, drool threatening to drop from his mouth and the liquor bottle slipped from his hand, landing on the concrete unbroken and began rolling down the paved street. "I was wondering what was keeping you out so late, Grantaire." He opened the door all the way so that we could step into the hallway, but before he could take a step, Grantaire was falling forward out of Enjolras's grasp and landed, with a loud thud, flat on his face in the middle of the hard wooden hall.

Enjolras held his head in his hand, while Francois laughed at his brother, until Enjolras couldn't help laughing too. When they were mostly done, they both bent down and, each grasping one of Grantaire's arms, hoisted him up and began to walk down the hall, Francois shutting the door behind them gracefully with a nudge of his foot.

They made their way slowly down the hall and then up the rickety, old stairs to Grantaire's bedroom. A small bed with a few blankets in the corner to the left, an old nightstand next to the bed and candles on the window sill across the room. An old shirt and pants lay on the floor, crumpled among other things; bottles, crumpled papers, and a few rocks that had been tracked in. Other than that, Grantaire's room was bare.

He shoved the clothes on the floor out of the way with his foot as they moved towards the bed and laid him down on it, Francois grabbing a blanket on the floor and laying it over his brother, he made sure it covered his feet and shoulders. He looked down at his older brother for a moment, in apparent deep thought, before leading the way out of the room and closing the door behind them.

Outside the door, they stood in the hallway speaking of many things, until Enjolras said he had to get home, he handed Francois a bag of coins and upon his attempt at refusal, grasped his shoulder and bid him farewell for the night.

He stepped outside, closing the door behind him and feeling heavier than he did when he went in. Not only fatigue wearing at him, but his mind and heart weighed down with bleak thoughts. He began walking down the street, out of the run down part of town, every step feeling somewhat labored.

How unfair for my friends to live in this pit, in these circumstances, when I was born with good fortune. Handed an easy life on a golden platter.

But he thought back to the day and hope arose in his chest, making him walk with more stride as it began to rain. First the rebellion and then one day thinks will be different. People will be treate as equals all over.

He remembered the many people this morning, the chorus of men and women and children alike standing in a rebellion. Their voices joined as one against the bleak morning silence.

The rebellion. It is almost here.

And in his head he reminded himself of the song, so crisp in his memory he could almost hear the people singing.

When he had walked down the long stretch that was the driveway to his parents estate, he opened the large door and ran up the stairs and into his room, hope reignited and spirits high, he opened the double framed window and stepped onto the window sill, not bothering to turn the lights on. Grabbing the marble ledge that was carved above his window, he pulled himself up and scaled the remainder of the wall until he pulled himself onto the roof, careful not to slip and fall to his death.

That would be a stupid way to die. Besides, I have a lot that i'm going to do. Can't risk dying until I've started the revolution and finished it. He thought, laying down on his back on the roof and crossing his arms behind his head.

He hadn't been to stay at home in a couple weeks. He had a run down apartment in the more run down area of France near some of his friends. Though he knew he could afford something far more luxurious, it's been time for him to move out and into the world and he preferred the simple life, where one had to work hard for a living. However, his parents estate would always be home in a way, the place where he grew up. He had promised his parents he would stay a couple nights sometime in the next fortnight, so here he was.

As he stared up into the sky, his mind wandered to something that had been nagging at him all day.

How could Marius be thinking about love at a time like this? There are more important things than love at a time like this. How can he not see that?

He tried to understand how someone could be so blinded and he remembered his conversation with Marius earlier today. He had said that his eyes had been opened. His eyebrow furrowed in confusion and frustration. He could understand fondness, respect, even caring for someone, but love. Especially now. When there was a war to fight. He recalled the conversation word for word:

"Why now, Marius? Why now of all times to fall in love? There's a war to be fought and you come striding in like Dan Jouon!" He stated exasperatedly.

Marius sighed and took a step towards him eagerly. "You do not understand, Enjolras! Love like this isn't something you just choose. You can't choose when or who you fall in love with."

Enjolras turned back around to face his, arms crossed. "I believe love is a choice. A poor father chooses to love his family by working to put food on the table. One chooses to forgive because they love someone. A wife can be mad at her husband and still forgive him because, despite her anger, she still loves him."

Marius nodded. "That I believe is true also. Love is not solely an emotion, but also a choice." He stepped towards him again, urging him to see truth. Wanting him to understand. "I did not simply choose to fall in love with Cosette. I felt as if my heart had flown away with me. It was not of my own doing."

He snapped back to reality, still confused how Marius could even think of love when war was coming.

He cared for his friends, his family, the future of France. But even his parents weren't in love. Only a couple of years ago he had found out that it had been an arranged marriage and though he had never spoke to them about it, he could see that they held no love for eachother. Admiration and care, yes. But not love. The more he tried to understand, the more frustrated he became, so finally he chose to digress.

The rain began to fall more heavily and though it was getting colder as the night went on, he welcomed it. He normally slept out on the roof anyways. It felt better than going and laying in his comfortable bed, in the warmth and light when some of his friends were shivering under what few frail blankets they had. He closed his eyes as the rain fell in sheets down on him, soaking him to the bone.

His brow furrowed in fatigue when he remembered that tomorrow he had committed himself to his parents. They had been angry at him for running out at the last ball they held to go to Les Amis de l'ABC and keep company with his friends, so in order to keep his relationships with his parents on good terms, as far as his father's lenience extended, he promised he would attend the whole ball, start to finish. His parents didn't approve of his being a part of the hushed up rebellion. He had told them, even though he knew they wouldn't approve. He had considered not telling them for a time, but after a conversation with Prouvaire he'd changed his mind and told them. He sometimes wondered if he shouldn't have told them. He thought back to the conversation now, remembering the exact words.

"I don't want to tell them, Jean, because they won't approve and they'll try to stop me. I won't let them, but the rift it with create in my family is not worth it." He argued, taking another sip of the drink in his hand. They sat in l'ABC cafe talking of the rebellion and the effect it will have on their, both rich, families. "Jean, you should understand. You are in almost the exact same situation as I am. Have you told your parents?"

Jean looked back at him squarely. "I'm telling them this evening. I have reason to believe my mother suspects something and has for a long while. My father underestimates her. My mother is smart." He smiles sadly, realizing the weight of the decision he's made. Thinking of the pros and cons.

"Then tell me, do you really want to cause your parents, your mother all of that grief and worry when you could spare her those demons?" He argued, knowing full well how his mother and Jeans' mother would feel.

Jean leaned forward in his seat and locked eyes with him, his voice just loud enough to be heard over their loud companions. "Would you rather you died with your parents knowing it was a possibility or have them find out when someone else has to come and tell them that there son was a leader in the rising rebellion and is dead? I know whats going through your head, Enjolras. I know you don't want to worry them and you also don't want to create a schism in your relationship with them, but in the scenario that you did die and they found out not knowing there was a chance you might die anyways, it would rip their heart out."

Enjolras had contemplated these things countless times before this conversation, but it took his friend reaching out to him with the truth to finally make his decision. He stared back into Jean's intense eyes and grasped his shoulder, nodding at him in a show of respect. In truth, Jean didn't know half of the respect he held for him, but he did know he was like a brother and that is more than words can express to Enjolras.

Enjolras made sure that he wouldn't fall off the roof in his sleep and closed his eyes having made up his mind that telling his parents had indeed been the right thing.

The next morning, Enjolras woke up to the honey glazed sun shining in his face, which never ceased to make him grin. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and swiftly climbed down from the roof and into his room through the window. He shut it and considered redressing for the day, knowing his mother would have a heart attack if she saw him in the state he was in. He took a hot bath, not bothering to tell the servants to fetch the water, he did it himself swatting away any attempt the servants gave to help or tell him they could do it. After his bath, he dressed himself and headed downstairs, diving into the kitchen to grab a few things and then head to the cafe. The bloody ball doesn't start until a quarter to nine.

He stepped into the kitchen shouting a friendly greeting to Euphaime, the old cook, when something hard and black collided with his head and knocked him off of his feet.

He was up and on his feet again, in a matter of seconds, pulled out his gun and surveyed the area, with alert eyes. His ears rang from the impact of whatever had hit him, so his hearing was fuzzy, but he was in the least to say very confused at what he saw; standing in front of him was Euphaime, her old eyes filled with alarm and worry as she waved her hands out in front of her. It took him a minute to realize that she wanted him to put the gun down, he holstered it in his belt immediately and looked back up. Standing behind Euphaime, hiding, was a girl he didn't recognize, her dark brown eyes were just visible over Euphaime's shoulder and the top of her light brown haired head. He squinted his eyes in confusion, and opened his mouth to say something just before he passed out.

He remembered a sudden pain, a pair of soft, dark brown eyes and then darkness and his eyes fluttered open. He felt like he was lying in a cloud and he realized as he look up into a canopy of white curtains that he was lying in his bed upstairs in his room. He quickly became aware of a few things; he had a terrible headache, his vision was a little blurry and he wasn't alone. He could hear people talking all around him and wanted to prop himself up on his elbow, but as soon as he tried, he was overcome with a wave of nausea and lightheaded-ness. He grunted, falling back down onto his back and breathing deeply, eyes closed shut.

He felt his bed bounce as someone hopped onto the side of it. His eyes shot open until he was staring at Joly who was looking at him with a goofy grin. "I have come to visit you on your death bed, dear brother in arms!" He said dramatically, flopping down on to the giant bed, making Enjolras's head ache. He involuntarily winced before he scowled at Joly, who only laughed. He looked around the room and found that along with Joly was Prouvaire, Grantaire (with a definite hangover), Combeferre, Courfeyrac, Lesgles and Marius. His mother was at his side, his father was across the room in a heated argument with Euphaime. He could catch a few of his words and sat up realizing that whatever had happened, Euphaime was taking the heat for it. Ignoring the pain in his head, and his mothers' protests, he sat up in his bed and called to his father loud enough for him to hear. "Father."

The room went quiet, and all eyes exchanged looks between Enjolras and his father, until Grantaire let out a low whistle in the awkward silence. Jean nudged him in the side, but almost couldn't keep the snicker of amusement in.

"Son, you don't know what happened, so-" But Enjolras interrupted him, making all eyes widen slightly. Lesgles suddenly found his shoes very interesting, but Enjolras kept his eyes firmly locked with his fathers' and did his best to stay sitting up.

"Then explain to me what happened so that I can come to a decision on whether or not i'm angry on my own." His voice maintaining a steady volume as he spoke. He waited expectantly for his father or someone to explain, but it took his mother's gentle persuasion to sway him. As much as his father and him didn't agree he was a just man and so, he said, because he wasn't there when it happened he handed the reigns to Euphaime to explain. Euphaime smiled gratefully, bowing slightly to his father and then stepping forward to stand in front of his bed. She went to bow to him, but he held up his hand and looked at her funny. "Since when have you ever needed to bow, Euphaime?"

He supposed that he hadn't come home for such a while that she had gotten used to bowing and it made him sad and then angry. While his father never encouraged the bowing and serving, he never discouraged it either. Euphaime had been like a second mother to him growing up, and the idea that he would think of anything other than a friend of her was preposterous. Long ago, they had established that the fact that there was such a thing as servants at all was wrong and so the invisible line that had been created between servants and the rich through the centuries disappeared between the servants and Enjolras and his mother in this house.

She smiled up at him warmly and sat down on the edge of the bed, seemingly remembering their family like relationship. "I have missed you, my dear boy."

His mother smiled warmly, having welcomed Euphaime as a part of the family long ago, but his father was a bit shocked by her casual approach because he was often gone at work and rarely got to see the little things that really make it a home. But he read the calm, warm expressions on mother's and his faces and didn't say anything. Enjolras was grateful and smiled at his father to make sure he knew it. Once he knew that his father had caught his gratitude, he turned his attention back to Euphaime.

"What happened, Euphaime?" He asked, listening intently as she began.

"Well, for starters, we have a new member in the house." She smiled, and held out her hand to the brown haired girl who stood nervously in the kitchen. Now he could see the girl that had been hiding behind Euphaime and was surprised to find that she was shockingly beautiful; her light brown hair was like silk draped over her shoulders, her olive skin so smooth and speckled with bronze freckles, her dark chocolate eyes so soft and bright. She was devastatingly beautiful in the simple rags she wore. His breath caught in his throat and for a moment he experienced something he never had before, he couldn't name it, and then slight panic and then he snapped back to reality and forced himself to focus.

The girl stepped forward taking Euphaime's outstretched hand in hers and standing directly in front of the bed. "This is Desiree De LeChapelle. She's my newest protege, we've been trying to discover what her strong point is. So far, we've crossed off cooking." Euphaime laughed, patting Desiree's hand endearingly. Desiree blushed and looked down.

"When you came into the kitchen, Desiree was practicing her cooking skills, we were almost finished and she was about to put the skillet away. She spun and you walked right into it." Euphaime chuckled a little, trying to refrain from laughing too much, and to show that she did have sympathy, she reached out and patted his hand gently. "In short, you were caught in the cross fire of our first cooking lesson with young Desiree." She looked up at the girl endearingly.

He guesses that Desiree must've been here for a while considering how close she and Euphaime seem, but then again, Euphaime embraces people naturally. Suddenly, he feels guilty for not being home more. Not just for Euphaime, but for his mother and father and for the other servants that he'd grown to know as family and friends. He has been so busy with l'ABC and his companions and friends and the rebellion that he neglected his family. He knew that he couldn't possibly step away from the rebellion and l'ABC now, when things are just finally burning and the rebellion is nearly here.

I have to be more intentional about balancing my life in the rebellion and my life with my family, he thought. But when he see's Desiree out of the corner of his eye he knows that he's been in his thoughts for too long because she's fiddling with her hands and pulling at her hair. Suddenly, the girl bursts into a stream of apologies. Her voice is soft and her accent is somewhat muddled, making him wonder where in France she came from. "I am so sorry, Monsieur Enjolras. I did not see you there. I thought for sure I might have killed you, and then I thought that I was without a doubt to be hung for killing such a rich and amiable and handsome young man-" She stopped abruptly, a blush rising on her cheeks. "I am so sorry! I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, Monsieur." She rambled, waving her hands in front of her. "Only, Lady Euphaime has told me so much of you, I feel as though I know you. Of course, I don't and therefore i'm going to shut up."

He was somewhat unsure of what to do, so he glanced from Euphaime to his mother and then to Joly, who was at his side. Joly was obviously trying to contain his laughter and was nearly tipped over the edge at his scowl. Completely left on his own,he composed himself, looked directly at the nervous girl and, not entirely sure how to get her attention while she was still babbling on, reached forward and gently grasped her hand. It was cold and small in his own larger hand, and seemed to fit perfectly there. He felt heat rise to his face at her touch. He had absolutely no idea what was going on inside him and he longed only for what was familiar to him; talk of rebellion, a gun at his side, his friends. Even though his mother and Euphaime and his friends were there, he felt trapped inside his own being, unable to escape a light headed feeling that he didn't think was coming from his head ache.

"Miss Desiree, it is alright and just for future reference you don't have to call me Monsieur. You can call me Enjolras." He removed his hand from hers quickly, ignoring the unfamiliar, warm feeling left in its place. Because he didn't know what it was, he simply ignored it. He supposed perhaps he was allergic to her perfume or something. He excused the feeling immediately. "Think nothing more of it. I hope your future cooking lessons will go smoother."

She blushed, but looked up at him. "So, i'm not fired?"

He shook his head once and immediately regretted it, clenching his eyes shut and clenching his teeth, which didn't really help but was habit. He heard someone wince and opened his eyes so that Desiree wouldn't feel any worse than she already did and then answered her more clearly. "No. You won't be fired. In fact, maybe you sure go take another lesson, I do believe just a little rest and i'll be good as new." He said, in an attempt to politely clear everyone out.

She nodded and thanked him before leaving the room, with Euphaime who gave him a pat on the shoulder and a raised eyebrow. As they closed the door, he turned towards his mother and gave her a questioning look, knowing she'd seen the look that Euphaime had given him. "What? What did I do?"

His mother laughed, patting his knee affectionately. "Mon cher, you were just a bit rude. You practically shoved the poor girl out."

He looked worried for a moment, trying to decipher whether she was being serious or not. "I didn't think I was the least bit rude. At the very least, I was trying to be polite. Please carry out my apologies if I was rude, would you?"

His mother laughed again, and shook her head. "You were fine, my dear. Don't mind it. Now get some rest. You're going to need it if you're going to survive all of the teasing you'll get from your father and Euphaime when you wake up." She kissed him on the forehead, even though he didn't like it, he let her, because he knew it made her feel like a mother and reminded him that she loved him. That kind of love he was sure of. If there was any love in his life, it was the love his mother and Euphaime had for him.

But he was confused as to why he would be teased in the morning. "I can't understand what you mean?" He called after her, but she chuckled and left the room, leaving him confused and frustrated. He hated not knowing things and it frustrated him not to know. He was meticulously going through his thoughts, trying to find the answer when he was brought out of his thoughts by a quiet laughter that began to grow louder.

He looked up and found Marius laughing his head off, the others had amused looks on their faces too, even Combeferre who was normally very composed was having a hard time keeping the smile off his face. He looked up at Marius and sat up a little straighter, demanding attention. The longer he snickered the louder he got until the laughter grew, joined by Grantaire's laughter, then Jean, and soon all the others followed. His brow furrowed and he crossed his arms, looking around at his friends expectantly. "Is there something you guys want to tell me? Marius?"

Marius looked up and, seeing his serious and frustrated expression and stance, he burst out in another chorus of laughter. "My dear friend, I do believe you now know how I feel." When this did not clear up the mystery for Enjolras, still further laughter followed until finally Marius shouted. "You're in love, Enjolras!"

His brow furrowed more still, not sure where this was coming from and thoroughly confused. He looked up at Jean who, laughing still clapped him on the shoulder. "You are the most oblivious man I know when it comes to women!"

"I am most certainly not in love." He defended, looking around at his friends like they were all drunk. "And I have no idea where on earth this is coming from. When did we even start talking about women. I suppose this is your fault, Courfeyrac."

Courfeyrac laughed, and nodded guiltily. "Though I am helplessly gifted with women, I have nothing to do with starting this conversation, my friend."

"How could that be true. Anything that involves women involves you." He jested, and laughed while Courfeyrac feigned hurt. "I still don't understand why you all think i'm in love and if you're referring to Miss Desiree then you're mistaken. My mistress is the rebellion and I have never forsaken her, nor do I plan to start now. Desiree is a lovely girl, but I am not in love and I've just met her. It would be irrational to say the least to think that one could fall in love with someone whom one just met."

"Yes. Of course. I just couldn't help wondering when your jaw dropped to the floor and your pupils expanded to the size of grapes if maybe you had a zing, but I suppose I was mistaken." Jean teased, enjoying himself a little too much.

"Yes. You were. Now that that's clear, I would like to sleep off this headache before i'm forced to go and socialize with a bunch of snobby school boys and clingy debutantes. And aside from all that, the last ball I attended I spent half of it trying to avoid at least six professors who wanted to recruit me as their law student. My father was furious and even more so when I managed to escape to l'ABC. Are any of you going?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Jean said. "I'll be there too, appeasing my parents and I do believe that Courfeyrac will be there too. Am I right, Alexandre?"

They rarely used each other's first names, but yes, Alexandre Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac nodded, saying, "Yes. I'll be there. Basically for the same reason as you and also the girls."

Enjolras shook his head, but couldn't help but smile because he knew his friend so well. They bid him goodbye and he lay in bed waiting for sleep to take him, feeling strange, but ignoring the unexplained things he was feeling. He pushed them to the side and thought of the things that were familiar to him. The rebellion. However he found and he often did that thinking of the rebellion did not help him relax. It made him want to take action, so he thought of his friends and his life and his family, not anything specific, but soon his eyelids felt heavy and he fell into a deep sleep.

A/N: Hey guys! There's the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it! I will be adding a few new characters.