[A/N: I have no idea what I just wrote. This is definitely not a ship of mine, but I just want to see if it could be convincing (I swear, I have a fetish for attempting to make weird pairings believable). Rated T for possible future chapters (if this works out as a series, it will be canon-compliant). Lilacs bloom in May, if that helps. Sorry for the long author's note...Enjoy(?)! ]
A lawyer, a gamine, four university students, and exactly three laymen have passed by Cosette's gate, and the clock hasn't yet struck noon.
It's a busy day indeed.
Cosette turns back to her poems as the third layman's figure disappears. Papa handed her the book yesterday, telling her their beauty would be a salve for her melancholy. She sighs.
Even Papa realizes I'm sad, though I try so hard to be cheerful. I've failed him, and there's nothing I can do.
A clap of boots, loud with good leather unlike those of the young men's, startles Cosette out of her musing. She sets her book aside, marking her place with a ribbon, and sees that he has slowed to look in the garden. Hoping he won't see her tucked on her bench, Cosette studies her visitor.
He is not the most handsome man, she notes, though his bearing and uniform lend him an elegance of sorts. Under his silly hat (Papa would never wear one that dreadful!), his hair is short-cropped and greying, his eyes darting and deep-set. He reaches out a gloved hand to touch the gate's metalwork, and the girl gasps. Would he dare to open it?
The officer looks up, as startled as Cosette was when he arrived. Their eyes meet, and oh, she feels the most frighteningly delicious shiver run through her. She quickly drops her eyes and studies her slippers instead.
"Mademoiselle, I hope I did not frighten you. I was merely admiring your garden. My pardons if I have disturbed your reading." His tone is even, measured.
Cosette manages to look up, though ends up addressing his chin instead as she responds, unable to meet his eyes again.
"No, Monsieur, you didn't disturb me in the slightest. My father works hard to maintain my garden, and I would never begrudge someone the desire to admire his handiwork. Do you find it pleasing?" She nearly winces at the overexcitement in her voice.
The officer shifts his weight, the sword at his belt gently clinking. "Yes, Mademoiselle, of course. Even servants of the law seek beauty occasionally, and I am glad to have paused on my way to my post. I have been refreshed, and I thank you."
Cosette smiles, though the praise is not for her. "You are welcome to come back, Monsieur-to study the flowers again. My father claims the lilacs will bloom soon. They're my favorites."
Her visitor returns a hesitant version of her expression. "I'm sure they will be lovely, Mademoiselle. Good day." With that, he politely bows his head and strides on as sharply as he had before.
Cosette ducks her head and revels in the warm tingling feeling in her chest. After it subsides a little, she turns to reach for her book, but finds herself picking a pink rose from the bush by her feet instead.
"Thank you, Papa," she whispers, and tucks the bloom into her hair.