A/N: Another chapter.

Disclaimer: Gavroche, Eponine and Javert belong to Victor Hugo.

The following day dawned just as snowy as its predecessor, but now the ground was covered by several feet of the wet flakes. Javert lit the large fireplaces in the sitting room and upstairs study, along with the stove in the kitchen to help heat the rest of the house. After breakfast Gavroche followed him to the library, but they quickly decided to move the lesson to the study because it was warmer.

Beginning with the letter 'G' for 'Guard', they made their way down to 'L' which, just to irk the boy, Javert matched with the word 'Loud'. Instead of being offended, however, Gavroche just grinned smarmily up at him.

"That all the letters for today?" he inquired, playing with the cover of one of Javert's books.

"Yes. Tomorrow I shall teach you through 'R'. Now, go bother your sister—I still have to finish reading my book about the loud-mouthed little boy who gets his head cut off."

Gavroche crossed his arms. "I thought he got his tongue cut out."

Javert sighed. "The policeman cut out his tongue and then cut off his head. Then he buried the little boy where no one would ever find him and lived happily ever after."

"No he didn't. The boy came back as a ghost and haunted him the rest of his life."

"The policeman hired an exorcist, obviously, to get rid of the ghost."

"But the exorcist turned out to be a fake old codger who didn't know what he was doing, and the boy's ghost didn't leave."

"So the policeman decided to live in a church where the ghost couldn't come because the boy had stolen too often during his life."

"And the ghost floated around outside the church and sang dirty drinking songs as loud as he could when the policeman was trying to sleep."

"Either way," Javert said, shooing the urchin out of the room, "It all comes down to the little boy being a loud-mouthed brat who won't shut up."

"I want to learn more letters!" The waif planted his feet and refused to budge.

Javert frowned. "I will teach you more tomorrow, Gavroche. Now, go help Eponine with lunch or something."

Gavroche suddenly whirled around, causing Javert to almost lose his balance. When he looked down to scold the boy, he found himself meeting two wide eyes in a shocked face.

"What is it?" he asked, suspicious.

The boy seemed unable to speak. Finally, though, he found his voice. "You... you called me by my name. And 'Ponine, too. Instead of 'boy' or 'girl', you used our names. You've never done that before."

For a moment Javert just stared down at the little slip of a boy. Shaking his head as though to clear it, he made a halfhearted shooing gesture at Gavroche. "Go and help your sister with lunch."

Gavroche grinned impishly. "All right. See you around noon, Javert."

After lunch Gavroche sat down to another game of singles in front of the fire, while Eponine decided to comb the library for books she could read. Javert was returing one of his own books to the shelf when she arrived, and she smiled at him. He returned a curt nod and, drawing another book from the shelf, turned to leave. Before he reached the door, however, Eponine hailed him.

"Thank you," she said, "For teaching Gavroche how to read. I know he's probably forgotten to thank you himself, or he's too stubborn."

Javert shrugged. "He seems to want to learn more out of boredom than anything. Aren't children supposed to play in the snow? Isn't that some sort of rule?"

Eponine smiled sadly. "Rich children, maybe. But not street children. For us, the snow is evil. Every winter we lose friends and family to the snow, or the bitter cold kills limbs that you'll never use again. To play in the snow is foolishness—your clothes get damp, and then the chill soaks through faster." There was a pause, but she continued. "One year, when I was twelve years old, I found a little boy frozen solid in the snow. I recognized him--a pickpocket, one of the many. Gavroche was with me, and he started crying. The boy had been his friend, I think. He made me promise never to freeze like that."

Silence fell between them. With a strangled laugh, Eponine clutched her book closer to her. "I'm sorry. That's not a very lighthearted story. Please forget I told it." She fled the room.

Javert stared after her, his mind a fog of half-thought things. Shaking his head once, slowly, he retreated to the study to read.

A/N: THIS IS YET ANOTHER PLEA FOR REVIEWS. STROKE MY EGO. STROKE IT DAMN YOU.

CelticHeiressFiona: Yes, Javert is indeed beginning to bend. It won't take too much more before he snaps.