A/N- And this is where the already unlikely plot gets ridiculous. Please bear with me as we suspend disbelief; I believe I have done a credible job with this particular quirk of the plot, and I hope you won't see it as going too far beyond the realms of possibility... XD And yes, I have snatched some elements from the novel for my use, even though this is principally musical-based (mainly because this plot would never work in the book fandom... I know the limits on how far I can bend reality...).

Chapter 3
November 19th, 1830

During the ensuing days, Enjolras went about his normal business during the day, attending his classes and met twice with Courfeyrac, Bahorel and Laigle at the Corinth to discuss strategies to draw the polytechnical students closer to an alliance. In the evenings, Combeferre crossed the hallway and together they tried to concoct a strategy for extricating him from his impending engagement. So far, precious little inspiration had come to them.

Enjolras felt pensive and worried over the predicament, but Combeferre continued to reassure him that they would find a way eventually, and so he tried his best to put it out of his mind. He had other things to put his mind to; he hadn't the energy to waste worrying over it. Not that telling himself that had helped much.

On the evening of the nineteenth of November, he was walking to the Musain in the company of Courfeyrac, whom he had met on the boulevard.

"Tell me about that new man who's been coming to the meetings, that Feuilly," Enjolras said, "I've had things on my mind, and haven't had the chance to speak much with him."

"You have seemed preoccupied," Courfeyrac agreed. "Feuilly paints fans for a living. Rather nice ones, too- he showed me a bit of his work. He is a good sort, I think. Certainly well-informed, better than most of the students I know, which is surprising."

"Oh? And why is that?"

"Well, he was an orphan, you see. Everything he knows, he taught himself."

"Impressive."

"I thought so. Anyway, he's quite the eloquent fellow. Talked my ear off on the subject of Austria last week. I think he'd give even Grantaire a run for his money for sheer long-windedness," Courfeyrac said with a grin.

"And unlike Grantaire, it can be assumed that he has something to say that is worth hearing," Enjolras added, drawing laughter from his companion.

On this note they reached the cafe and entered to discover the majority of the group already present.

Within an hour, any semblance of an orderly meeting had dissolved. The handful of more casual attendees that existed had filtered out, leaving only the oldest and closest lieutenants in the cafe, plus the new addition of Feuilly. Grantaire and Joly were playing chess with Laigle looking on and making occasional dry commentary. Jean Prouvaire was waxing eloquent about the many and apparent charms of some grisette of whom he was enamored, with Bahorel listening (or possibly pretending to listen... Jehan frequently repeated himself on this particular subject, they had discovered). Feuilly, Courfeyrac, Marius and Combeferre were grouped around a table, drinking and laughing.

Enjolras, for his part, had retreated to a table on his own, not far from this last group. He had laid out a pair of books on the table in front of him, and was perusing them eagerly. They were two of his school books, and he was determinedly searching through them in the hopes that some solution to his predicament would present itself from within the most obscure depths of French law.

He was, however, quickly becoming discouraged. He had thoroughly scrutinized every law in both books pertaining to the institute of marriage, and not a single loophole to extricate himself from an unwanted engagement had turned up. In a fit of desperation, he was now examining a handful of rather obscure laws relating to the regulations of inheritance, in hopes that there might be something of value there, though it seemed unlikely.

While he was thus occupied, Combeferre left the group he had been sitting with and came to join Enjolras at his table. "Have you found anything?" he asked in a low voice.

Enjolras shook his head, lips pursed in irritation. "Nothing," he replied. "I discovered that there is, in fact, a loophole in the inheritance tax that a clever married couple might be able to exploit, but that is as close as anything has come at this point."

Combeferre looked at him with concern. "How many of these have you gone through?" he asked, gesturing at the books.

"All of them," Enjolras said with a heavy sigh. "Or so it feels. I have re-examined every book of law I own, and quite a few housed in the library... nothing. Not even one clause in one obscure and outdated regulation..." He ran his hands through his hair and brought his forehead to rest on his palms, the picture of a frustrated intellect.

"I thought surely there must be something..." Combeferre said, also looking disheartened.

"But then, what would you know about the law, anyway?" Enjolras muttered peevishly. Then he lifted his head from his hands. "I'm sorry, François. That was uncalled for."

"You are worried. It is only natural to be a little abrupt. Although I must say," Combeferre added, smiling now in an attempt to coax a similar response from his friend, "I do not know many men who would be this desperate to avoid a marriage with Hyacinthe Guillory."

Perhaps he spoke a little too loudly, because Courfeyrac, hitherto engaged in some sort of debate with Marius, looked up at this. "What's this I hear?" he asked, calling the attention of the entire room with his deliberately carrying voice.

"It's nothing," Enjolras replied quickly.

"Really?" Courfeyrac said with a sly tone. "Because I do believe I heard someone say the word 'marriage.' Is that why you've been so surly and odd lately, Antoine? Have you at last found a woman to strike your fancy?"

Enjolras's expression turned stormy, and Combeferre spoke up, "Quite the contrary. His father is trying to arrange a marriage to a childhood companion of ours, and Enjolras wants no part of it."

"Well, that does make more sense," Courfeyrac replied, no longer ready to tease but instead to advise. With the exception of the bewildered Feuilly, everyone in the room was aware, whether by way of direct experience or by gossip, of the tumultuous relationship between the Enjolras men. Within moments, the whole group of them were clustered together, with the exception of Laigle, who had apparently decided to take pity on the fan-maker and explain this nuanced dynamic to him.

"Let me guess," Bahorel said. "It's yet another attempt to make you give up on the idea of revolution?"

"Very much so," replied Enjolras, who found himself torn between annoyance at their attention and appreciation of their immediate grasp of his situation.

"And, being Antoine Enjolras," Joly added, "You will defy him."

"Of course," he said, slightly irritated.

"The difficulty comes," Combeferre took it upon himself to explain, "From the fact that we're having a rather difficult time finding a way to do so."

Immediately the air was full of flying suggestions, everyone in the group speaking simultaneously, throwing out ideas and debating them. Enjolras bit down on his lip to stop himself from smiling. Even though he suspected he would never hear the end of having been caught in such a plight, and even though not one of their suggestions was likely to prove helpful in the slightest, he felt warmed and reassured to be able to call such men friends.

For several minutes the discussion was unintelligible, but gradually the company separated into smaller factions as they were wont to do, all of them debating in little groups the increasingly unlikely methods for avoiding a wedding.

All at once, Grantaire's voice could be heard rising above the low hum of voices. "The thing is," he was saying, "if he were already married, he wouldn't be able to get married again, would he?"

Combeferre, who had been listening patiently to whatever point Grantaire was making, laughed openly. "You must be mad!" he exclaimed, drawing the attention of the company to a central focus once more. "Trying to fake a marriage? What good would that do?"

"No, not fake a marriage," Grantaire said doggedly. "He could actually get married. But to someone who doesn't put him off as much as this lovely Hyacinthe apparently does."

"Good luck finding someone who fits that description," Bahorel muttered with a grin.

Enjolras shook his head. "Grantaire, as usual, you are proving to be of absolutely no use."

The drunkard, however, seemed very pleased with his brainchild, and refused to give up that easily. "No, see, you're averse to the whole idea of matrimony, so what do you do? You marry a girl who knows that. It would be a marriage by law, but because she knows how much you hate the whole idea, it wouldn't be a real marriage, if you get what I mean..." He sent a meaningful look in Enjolras's direction, and Enjolras glared at him. "This way, you flout your father's control with no chance of him finding a loophole in your loophole, do you see? You've reached your majority, after all. Tell them that you eloped in secret a few months ago. They are annoyed, but in a way they've got what they wanted, haven't they? It's the perfect plan!"

Jehan shook his head. "But think of the poor girl!" he exclaimed. "What woman would be willing to live in a sham of a marriage, forsaking love?"

"One very interested in his inheritance, I would imagine," Joly suggested.

"An attitude which would make me wholly uninterested in tying myself to her," Enjolras pointed out.

"Rendering the entire proposition void," Jehan finished.

At this moment, another voice spoke. "Actually," it said, "Grantaire may be onto something."

Throughout this whole exchange, Marius had been sitting quietly at the back of the group, observing the discussions with a thoughtful look on his face. It was at this moment, when the debate seemed about to turn in another direction, that he spoke thus.

"What do you mean, Pontmercy?" Enjolras asked.

Marius took a moment to collect his thoughts. "Well, obviously, already being married would be an ideal excuse not to marry this Guillory woman," he said slowly. "But finding the right girl would be the problem. Nearly impossible, you agree?"

"Yes," Enjolras said emphatically.

"I think I may know the girl."

"You're kidding!" cried Laigle.

"Doubtful," Joly muttered simultaneously.

"Who?" Combeferre enquired.

Marius smiled. "You all recall my friend Éponine?" he said.

For a moment, the room was silent. Then the majority of the young men burst out laughing, leaving Enjolras to stare, flabbergasted, at Marius. "Pontmercy," he said, "Are you delusional? Have you actually seen Éponine? My parents would never believe that I had an attachment to her strong enough to provoke an elopement!"

At this, Marius shook his head in protest. "No, think of it! Eponine's pretty, you've all seen her! She's been living rough for several years now, but imagine if she were dressed up as a proper young lady? And besides... maybe this way I can pay her back."

"Pay her back for what?" Feuilly asked, speaking for the first time since the subject had been brought up.

Marius shrugged. "When I first left my grandfather's house, before Courfeyrac took me in, I was living in a very poor tenement. I couldn't afford anything else, you see. Éponine and her family were my neighbors, and she looked out for me. She shared what little she had with me, and once she stopped me from being robbed. She threw herself right between myself and two armed men without a second thought! I owe her a great deal but... well, in my current financial state, I really have no way to help her. But if she married you..."

He looked firmly and directly at Enjolras.

"It would be a chance for her to rise above her abasement, you see! She was raised properly; you can tell just to hear her talk. It was only once her family took heavy financial loss that her situation became so degenerate. She's clever, you wouldn't believe how quickly she can think on her feet! And you know what else?" It was plain from Marius's expression that he was quite pleased with this last point more than any of the others. "Éponine is as averse to marriage as you are! She told me once that she did not think she would ever get married!"

Yes, thought Enjolras (and probably every other person in the room with him), because she's so blindly in love with you that she will never look at another man.

"It's nearly perfect," Marius said, seeming to like his idea the longer he talked on it. "It would take a bit of work, but just think- it would save you from being trapped in a marriage that comes with all the... obligations that entails-" Saying this, Marius turned a bright shade of pink, his youth and inexperience displayed clearly in a blush. "-And Éponine would be off the streets. She'd be beyond the reach of her father. It would be a very convenient arrangement for you both."

Enjolras shook his head. "This is mad. You all agree with me, don't you? Pontmercy's lost his head at last!"

For the most part, he saw expressions of agreement on every face, or at the very least, amusement. Combeferre, however, looked rather thoughtful.

"François?" Enjolras asked.

"Actually," Combeferre said slowly, "it's actually not a terrible idea. It's not a flawless plan, but it just might work. Didn't you say that the overt reason your father gave for arranging this marriage was because your mother was afraid you'd remain a bachelor all your life?"

"Yes."

"Well, they couldn't really object to your already having found a wife, could they, as you've reached your majority? If we were still in the South, it would be frowned on, but this is Paris! Stranger things have happened! And Marius has a point- underneath those rags she wears, Éponine has rather nice features. A bit tall to really be beautiful, but I suppose that wouldn't be so noticeable beside you, would it? And it's plain to the eyes she's a gamine, but if she were cleaned up and well-fed... who knows? She might even be pretty."

Enjolras shook his head. "You say her family is objectionable? It would be ridiculous."

"So we pass her off as an orphan!" Marius suggested. "It's easy for records to be lost or shuffled around, and as her father goes by as many false surnames as he can count on his fingers, he isn't going to want anyone looking too closely into his life... it would only take one word with the prefect of police to have him in jail- that threat alone would be enough to keep him quiet and set 'Ponine free."

"Besides," Combeferre said with an amused grin, "I'm quite sure the whole of Lyon has known since we were fourteen that you were going to cause a scandal of one kind or another someday, Antoine."

"I imagine," Bahorel muttered under his breath, "that they never suspected it would be this kind..."

"This is ludicrous," Enjolras said, but the fight was going out of him. As far-fetched as this plan of Marius's was, as far as he could see it was the only viable option he had at present. He still felt an objection to the idea, but he had been more than a little swayed, out of desperation more than anything else. Still, he wasn't willing to just fall in line with this madness. "I hardly know the girl!"

"As if that's ever stopped anyone," Courfeyrac pointed out.

"Yes, and it has led to many an unhappy marriage," Enjolras argued. "That, at least, I of all people ought to know."

Marius found it an appropriate time to make another plea on his young friend's behalf. "Come, at least think on it, won't you?"

Grantaire interjected, "Yes, Enjolras. Perhaps now you will show us whether you are a true friend of the abaissé or not." Pleased with his joke, he leaned back in his chair with a smile on his face.

Enjolras glowered at the smirking drunkard, wishing desperately he could think of a clever retort on the spot. Frustrated, he said, "Fine. Next time Éponine is here, we will discuss it with her. But I, for one, sincerely doubt that she will want anything to do with this insane plot."

A/N- I think that last line may have been a little bit meta... ;P

Reviews? Pretty, pretty please? I hate to beg, but I will stoop that low if I have to...