Disclaimer: I do not own Les Miserables or any of its characters. Everything belongs to Hugo Victor and the proper publishers/owners. I make no profit from this fiction. It is merely for fun.

Prologue:

Montparnasse was at his post, doing his assigned job when his eyes landed on the shivering, half naked, girl standing at the corner of the street. Her bare feet were beginning to blister as she stood in the snow and her teeth chattered noisily. His eyes raked down her tiny frame, over her angular knees, and to her reddened feet. A deviously smile spread over his lips as he looked at her, his white teeth gleaming in the diminishing light. What a beautiful sight she was. Her black locks cascading down her pointy shoulders, the misery was clearly written all over her young face.

Montparnasse moved toward her, crossing the street like a shadow, his shoes crunching the snow beneath his feet. He was so quiet, despite the crunching snow, that the girl did not see him until he was already upon her. He seemed to have slid up to like a phantom, his handsome baby face shining in the moonlight. She let out a little gasp, took a step back, tripped on her numbing feet, and fell onto her bottom. She let out a small cry of pain as her little frame suffered from the impact. She looked up at Montparnasse in fear.

"Hello, belle," he said. He offered her his hand. She took it timidly, and he pulled her up. She stumbled toward him and blushed at the look in his eye and the way he smiled down at her. "What is your name?"

"Eponine," she said softly. Her voice was low as she looked up at the handsome young man.

"Eponine," he said softly. He stroked the back of a finger over her cheek bone. "You look cold. How would you like to warm up?"

"I…I have to stay and watch for the fiacre."

"You are Thenardier's?" he asked. She nodded. "They won't be angry if you do what I tell you. Do you know who I am?"

She shook her head, but he could see her faltering. She was nearly leaning into his warmth, her eyes freely gazing over his handsome face.

"I am Montparnasse." He watched recognition dawn over her features. He tugged on her hand slightly and turned his body to the side. When he saw her take a tiny step forward his devious smile widened and he crossed the street with her. She followed him blindly, looking around as he took her into a deserted inn. Only the innkeeper and the a few scattered patrons were inside. Montparnasse walked past the owner, who only nodded at the young man. Montparnasse did not bring her into a room, but instead into a narrow closet with a mop and a bucket of filthy water in the corner.

"I'm still cold," Eponine said innocently. She grasped his shoulders when he pressed his body against her, pinning her firmly against the wall at her back.

"Let me take care of that," he said and she gasped as his mouth came down on hers. His tongue was in her mouth, tasting only her. No remnance of a past meal remained in her teeth, for it had been so long since she last ate. The kiss was bruising, almost painful against her freezing skin. His face was hot against her, his body seemed to be on fire. His mouth never left hers long enough for her to protest, and has one hand moved to hike up her skirt to her waist, the other grabbed the back of her hair. He pulled her head back baring her throat, but his lips remained on hers.

When she felt a searing pain between her legs and an uncomfortable spreading inside of her, she fisted his coat. She moaned out in pain but he swallowed her cries. He felt the tightness around him and he groaned in pleasure. He nearly laughed against her mouth as he realized the girl was a virgin.

His thrusts were forceful and unrelenting. He gave her no room to adjust, no time for the pain to pass. He held her firmly, pulling at her hair painfully, bruising her mouth with his kisses. Eponine was about to spill tears onto her pale cheeks until his lips moved to her ear and he panted out her name. She had never heard someone say her name in such away before. She was the center of his attention, his desires, and that seemed to numb the pain. No one had ever wanted her before. When she was sent to Monsieur Marius a few days before she had expected him to take her to bed for his charity, but he made no move to. It had wounded Eponine, oddly enough, but now she had a man that wanted her.

She was lifted off the ground as her body seemed to turn numb from the pain, and her legs were wrapped around him by his strong arms. His hips moved at lightning speed, pressing her into the wall with a tremendous force. He groaned against her, froze against her, and moments later she felt something warm tricking down her leg. She could not tell if it was her own blood or his seed.

When he lowered her back to the floor she watched him refasten his pantaloons. Her own dress fell around her hips and covered her abused thighs.

"We must return," he said. She nodded, reached her hand between her legs, and tried to scrape off the blood and juices that cling to the inside of her thighs. Montparnasse looked around a moment and reached into the bucket of filthy water. With a wet hand he washed off her thighs. Before he washed his hands once again she watched him look at his blood, and arousal covered hand before bringing it to his nose to smell. He smiled at her, a dark smile, before plunging his hand back into the brackish water.

She followed him back out into the street, her now warm body bombarded with the cold air. Montparnasse dropped her off at her spot and bowed his head.

"You were lovely, Eponine Belle," he said and kissed her hand. She blushed, shifting from the pain between her legs. He whisked off his coat and placed it around her shoulders. "Remember me."

As she watched him walk toward 50-52 she nodded to herself. She certainly would.

When she was picked up by the police they took the jacket from her, and refused to return it upon her release. It angered her greatly, and she felt guilty that she had lost just a prize.

She saw Marius on the street a few days later, wandering around in a daze. She smiled, her spirit brightened by the sight of him. She brought her hand up to wave, he was right on top of her now, all he had to do was look up and he would see her. He would see how much she loved him and he would rescue her form this miserable place.

And he did look up, and Eponine felt, what she could only surmise was happiness. But as his eyes landed on hers, there was no recognition on his face. He practically glared at her. Eponine stopped her pace, standing in the center of the street, beckoning him to love her. Instead he walked right past her.

Eponine felt her cracked heart break. She turned to watch his back walk away from her. Fat tears spilt from her eyes. As her lower lip trembled she turned and walked away. Before she knew where she had gone, she found herself in the sewers, standing in the hideout of none other but the Patron-Minette.

Only Claquesous was there. The man looked up at her, raised his eyebrows, and leaned back in the chair he had stolen from inn or another. Her smile was leacherous, but almost friendly. His teeth, slightly yellowed but straight, and all in attendance, gleamed at her. "Daddy need more money?" he asked. His hips moved upward slightly in suggestion.

"I'm looking for Monsieur Montparnasse," she said and he choked out a laugh. It sounded as if he were choking to death.

"Monsieur," he sneered. "The boy's out on an errand. I'm more than capable of taking care of a young lady."

He reached out a hand to her, and despite the distance between them, she took a step back. He lowered his hand, a more innocent smile dawning his dirty face.

"I see," he said. "Too old. You are more than welcome to stay, for a price, I'm sure Montparnasse would be more than happy to pay that debt, provided you give him something in return."

Eponine colored slightly. She settled on the ground on a pallet spread out on the floor. She hugged her knees up to her chest and glared at Claquesous. He had been trying to buy her body from her father since their two "families" became acquainted, but her father appeared to have some paternal instinct left in his body. Claquesous returned to sharpening his blade, only occasionally looking up at the girl in the corner. When Eponine heard noises coming from down the long corridor they were in she stood and waited, praying it was Montparnasse.

She did not trust Claquesous not to force himself upon her, nor the other either. Truth be told she didn't trust Montparnasse not to force himself on her if he wanted, but she was willing to spread her legs for him, if only to numb the pain again. When Babet walked into the room she felt her chest constrict. The smile on his face was mistaken by her as evil glee, the meaning of which was her imminent rape. Instead it was an evil glee for his friend, who followed behind Gueulemer. When Montparnasse stepped into sight Eponine let out a deep breath.

"Ma Eponine," he said as he saw her. "What a pleasant surprise."

"She hasn't paid me for her time," Claquesous said as he looked up from his blade. "I can think of a few ways she can pay me, unless of course you would like to take on her debt."

Montparnasse scowled and threw a wad of paper notes at him. Claquesous collected them from the ground with a greedy grin. Montparnasse motioned for Eponine and she went to him obediently. Her took her hand, glanced at his friends, and lead her down a dripping corridor.

"What have you come for, pet?" he asked, his hand gliding up her thigh.

"Make the pain stop," she whispered.

"How?" he breathed against her ear.

"Hurt me."

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Next chapters will be much, much, much longer. I just wanted to lay the base. Let me know what you think please!