Hello...:)
So, I finally managed to translate another one of my Les-Misérables-Stories into English. I know, it's stupid to work on more than one story at a time, but I just HAD to write this idea down...
I hope you like it, if you do, please review ;)

Disclaimer: I do not own Les Misérables.

Love,

Catharina 3

Chapter 1

"Marius! You gonna leave me alone tonight? Again?" The reproach was clearly to hear in Éponine's voice. Marius gave her a pitiful look, which made her even angrier than she was. She couldn't understand why he was always spending so much time in a café, surrounded by people, he, as he admitted often enough, didn't even like very much. Well, except Courfeyrac.

"I'm sorry, 'Ponine." Marius tried to hug her goodbye, but she slipped away, still furious. "If you don't want to stay back, why don't you come with me?"

"No, Marius. The boys can't stand me. I'm the gutter sprog, remember?" She could still clearly remember that day when she had accompanied Marius to the cafè. The evening had ended when Grantaire, drunk as he was, started to insult her and she had left the bar close to tears.

"He was drunk, 'Ponine", sighed Marius and it was clear that they weren't having this discussion for the first time. "And he'll be by ten anyway. Just don't bother about that idiot." He smiled before finishing. "And Enjolras will be there."

Èponine rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe that Marius was still teasing her about her obsession about Enjolras' speeches. She just loved the passionate way he spoke, how he filled her heart even though she couldn't understand what he was talking about.

But even more, she hated the fact that Marius still seemed so blind about Éponine's feelings for him. For others it seemed obvious that she had more than just a crush on him, but Marius himself never had realized that his best friend wasn't seeing him the way he did.

"I can't believe you're trying to convince me that way. You know, you're not very persuading", Éponine said, but Marius could see that tiny smile appearing on her lips. He always could tell when he had won over her, and, ignoring her complaints, he grabbed her wrists and dragged her behind him all the way to the little Cafè Musain.

They were already late. At least Enjolras hadn't started his speech yet, but conversations were already high and Grantaire seemed slightly tiddly. He was the first one to catch sight of them when they entered the back room of the café, where the meetings always took place.

"Pontmercy", he growled, then he gazed at Éponine. "And you brought your little ... friend. Awesome." Marius just gave him an annoyed look; Grantaire shrugged his shoulders and turned to counter to order another bottle of wine.

Marius, feeling Éponine's again reproachful and also hurt look, whispered a quick "Sorry!", then he passed a table of a couple of students sunken into a game of cards. Courfeyrac, the one face Éponine still remembered, noticed her first. A smile spread on his face.

"The little friend is here again." Immediately, all attention was on her. Éponine could feel her cheeks burning, and looked at the floor, embarrassed by her blush. She just nodded shyly, surprised by herself. She was usually not the bashful type of girl; she was more of a confident rebel.

"Well, I can already tell the evening will be successful", Courfeyrac grinned; the next moment he was thrown a serious look from Marius. Éponine blushed even more, her face now burning with shame. She knew about Marius' closest friend bedding many women, but she was sure about herself never becoming just a girl on his endless list. She gave Marius a grateful look.

"Well." It was Enjolras breaking the awkward silence. Éponine knew what was about to follow when he pulled up a chair and stood on it. Full of expectations she finally managed to make a move and sat down between Courfeyrac and Marius, her eyes fixed onto Enjolras' mouth, which opened and begin to speak.

Listening to Enjolras' speeches was one of the few moments during day when Éponine was able to forget her unanswered love to Marius. Even though he was sitting close to her, his hands only inches away from hers, her full concentration was on Enjolras.

She wasn't sure what the 'marble leader', as he was called, was saying, she didn't care much about politics, but it was the passionate way he talked that made her shiver. It was just like he was stroking every word before saying it out loud, he chose them so perfectly, the sentences jumbled into each other, forming a lulling fog that wrapped around Éponine. Would she have been to find a word for his speeches – a spoken lullaby would probably have named it best, but the lines didn't make her feel sleepy, but more alive and hopeful.

When Enjolras ended with a glint of a smile, she could be bound to feel a little sorry.