A/N: Hello, everyone! To clear up any confusion, despite the summary information provided, I refer to Valjean as M. Madeleine since I switch between Valjean and Fantine's POVs. I am undecided if he'll ever tell her the truth, so I may switch to calling him Valjean if that comes to pass.

I also wanted everyone to know that while writing this, I had the 2018 miniseries in mind, so I apologize for any inaccuracies toward the book or musical (I didn't see an option for the miniseries on this website!). I haven't read the book yet, and it's been a long, LONG time since I've seen the musical, so I'm honestly not drawing from either of those for this story. I've always really liked the Valjean/Fantine relationship (and lowkey shipped the 2012 version), but when I saw the 2018 portrayal, I felt there was a lot of subtext, so I naturally had to write this since I couldn't find multi-chapter fics with them as a romantic focus. I hope you enjoy!

CH 1: The Invitation

Fantine looked sickly. With her large, shiny eyes rimmed with bags far darker than bruises, Madeleine's concern couldn't help but mount. She needed something... Food, perhaps? A warm, clean bed? Despite such offers bordering on the improper, he knew he couldn't allow her to deteriorate under his employ.

"Mademoiselle Thibeau!"

Fantine looked up, her lips lifting into a pleasant, world weary smile. No matter what the occasion, she always stopped to smile at him. Some days, he wondered if he was deserving of the simple courtesy.

With the rest of the employees filing out for the day, Madeleine felt more at ease to speak freely. "You are unwell," he said. "I was hoping you might join me for supper this evening."

Smile slowly fading, Fantine looked to him in surprise. "Supper, Monsieur?"

"Yes. You are waifish and small. Is it wrong to believe you're in need of a good meal?"

Flushing slightly, Fantine shook her head. "I do not wish to be a charity case, Monsieur. You have already done so much for me, and-"

"Please be there at eight."

"Oh, but-"

"My servant, Gabrielle, shall let you in."

Eyes wide, Fantine began to nervously wring her hands. "Is what I am presently wearing suitable?"

"Do not be silly."

"...Is that a yes?"

Finally, Madeleine cracked a smile. Reaching out to squeeze her shoulder, he assured her, "You needn't bother with fancy trappings, Fantine. I merely wish for your company. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Oh..." Fantine looked down at his hand, and almost guiltily, he returned it to his side.

"I shall see you at eight," he said. "Bring nothing but your appetite."

Finally, Fantine's smile returned, completely beatific in its luminescence. "Thank you, Monsieur. I shall be there."

When Fantine arrived at Madeleine's manor, she instantly was afraid to touch anything, even the walls. His finery was far more than she could afford, and the thought made her nervous. What if she were to break something?

"Monsieur Madeleine is in the dining room," Gabrielle announced with a smile. "Oh, just look at you! Such a darling little thing. Have you been in town long? I don't recall seeing you around..."

"It is a large place, Madame," Fantine murmured. Clutching her shawl, she felt the tension mount when she passed through double doors that gave way to a large, high ceilinged dining room. Madeleine sat reading at the far end of the table.

"Good evening, Monsieur," Gabrielle said. "Your guest has arrived."

Looking up, Madeleine set his book aside. "Thank you, Gabrielle. You may tend to supper now."

As the maid left the room, he rose and strode toward Fantine's side of the table. He pulled out her chair and inclined his head, indicating that she sit.

"Thank you, Monsieur." Shyly, Fantine sank into the offered seat. "What were you reading just now?"

"Oh, nothing of import. I was barely digesting it, truth be told."

Fantine looked up at him incredulously. "Were I able to read, I would hang on to every word. You are quite lucky, Monsieur." Chewing her lip, she added, "Do you happen to have a library?"

"I do, indeed."

"I should like to see it, if I may...I like to look at books." She smiled self-consciously. "Perhaps that sounds absurd, but I love the look and smell of them."

Madeleine mirrored her smile, warmed by her candor. "It isn't absurd at all," he assured her. "After supper, I would be delighted to show you my library. I daresay it doesn't get much use these days."

Enchanted by the offer, Fantine nodded, and Gabrielle re-emerged with a large serving tray. To Fantine's surprise (and delight), a small pheasant and a bowl of stew with bread were set before her.

"Oh," she breathed, completely awed. "Is this all for me?"

With a low chuckle, Madeleine returned to his side of the table and had a seat. "It is, indeed. As I've said, you are waifish and small. I may not be able to cure all of the world's ailments, but I can at the very least start with helping you."

Fantine smiled, and after her goblet had been filled with wine, she raised it toward him in a shy salute. "Thank you, Monsieur."

"Please, you needn't thank me every two seconds. Your companionship is all the gratitude I need." Catching Gabrielle's questioning look, he added, "That will be all, Gabrielle. Thank you."

She curtsied and bustled off, leaving the two in silence.

Despite Fantine's desire to be a lady, she could scarcely mirror her host's careful, even bites when there was so much wonderful food to be had. She dipped her bread in the stew and crammed a large bite into her mouth, a soft moan filling her throat at the relief of having food – good, substantial food – in her mouth.

Madeleine had to chuckle. "It is sufficient, I take it?"

Embarrassed, Fantine swallowed the large bite. "Yes, um...yes, forgive me. My mother would swoon, were she able to see how I've just conducted myself."

"No harm done. In this instance, I'd say hunger trumps decorum." Taking a sip of wine, Madeleine watched with amusement as Fantine attempted much smaller, more manageable bites. "Now, then," he said. "You have spoken of loving the look and smell of books, but I know very little else about you. Will you allow me the pleasure of learning your proclivities?"

Picking at the pheasant with her fingers, Fantine noted how Madeleine was using silverware and, after yet another burst of mortification, she gathered up her own knife and fork and cut into the bird. "I am afraid I'm not all that remarkable," she said. "You are feeding me out of the goodness of your heart, so truly – you needn't trouble yourself with me."

Madeleine frowned. "As I've told you before, I make it a point to concern myself with all my employees."

"W-well yes, but I am a grisette...why would-?"

"Why would I concern myself?" Irritable, he gathered up a forkful of meat. "I was not born into wealth, Fantine. Despite all that I have – all that I've earned – I am not incapable of seeing the value of human life."

Fantine blinked a moment, astonished. "Forgive me, I...I was not aware."

Madeleine said nothing, his eyes downcast as he ate.

Guilted into speech, Fantine finally offered, "I am good with my hands... If given any type of tool or textile, I can most assuredly come up with some type of unique creation."

Madeleine raised his eyes again. "That is a skill, Fantine, and one I am all too happily aware of. Do you not have any hobbies? Hopes or dreams?"

With a nervous little laugh, she looked down at her plate. "Oh, I don't know... I've never truly thought about it."

"Never?"

"Who has the time for such idleness? I suppose I like to sing, but I'm not good at it, and...well..." She scrunched her brow in thought. "I enjoy dancing too, but that pastime is a bit tainted now, I must admit." She thought of Félix with his crooked, mischievous smile, and her heart plummeted. She sighed. "As I've said, I am rather unremarkable."

"I hardly believe that."

Brows drawing inward, Fantine laughed. "With all due respect, Monsieur, you barely even know me – nor I you."

Madeleine nodded, considering this. "Perhaps that shall one day change." Fantine gawped back at him, uncertain as he added, "Are you finished with your meal?"

"Oh, um...yes, but-"

"Then come! I promised you a look at my library, so that is precisely what we shall do."

With a disbelieving smile, Fantine rose with the help of his hand, and then she trailed after him into the hallway. He was so kind and gentle... The urge to tell him the truth – the real truth – was overwhelming, but for the sake of her dear Cosette, she held her tongue and followed at a respectable distance.

"Here we are," Madeleine announced. Leading her across the threshold, he smiled and gestured to the bountiful shelves. "I trust the look and smells meet to your fancy?"

With a sheepish giggle, Fantine clasped her hands and gaily stepped forward. "I have never in my life seen so many books!" she declared. "Oh, if only I could read them all... I imagine I am missing out on some wonderful adventures." Wistful, she reached out and touched the spine of a particularly large tome.

Expression softening, Madeleine said, "I could teach you, if you'd like...in fact, not so long ago, I taught myself."

Fantine looked up at him in surprise. "Me? B-but..."

"We would start with teaching you to write," he said. "In order to read, you must first learn the alphabet."

Overwhelmed, tears sprang to Fantine's eyes and she drew a soft, shuddery breath. "Do you truly mean that, Monsieur?"

"I do, indeed."

Breaking into an ebullient grin, she nodded and quickly wiped her tears. "Oh, look at me," she bemoaned. "I am a true mess!"

"A mess who shall soon be literate," Madeleine assured her, taking pleasure in the warm, surging light that danced across her eyes. "If it pleases you, we can have a lesson each day after your shift."

Fantine nodded, trying not to appear too eager. "Oh, yes, that would be lovely. Thank you so much, Monsieur."

"Think nothing of it," Madeleine said. "If you truly wish to express your gratitude, you shall cease with the constant praise and apologies."

"Oh...yes, Monsieur."

His mouth quirked into a smile. "If you would prefer, I can also ready you a bed after each lesson."

Fantine blinked, startled by the unexpected generosity. "Oh, um...though I appreciate the gesture, that is hardly necessary."

"You are clearly tired, Fantine, and I will not have my employees nodding off on the job. I shan't take no for an answer."

Madeleine drew in closer, and unable to help it, Fantine found herself gazing up into his large, kind eyes. Félix had had kind eyes, too...

No. Monsieur Madeleine was nothing like her boorish former lover, and it physically pained her to make the comparison.

"You are far too kind," she finally whispered. "Might I at the very least repay you in some way? I have a little money..."

"All the better to keep, is it not?" Madeleine shrugged. "Trust me, dear girl, giving you an education is all the payment I require."

Fantine beamed, shyly twisting her hands. "You are a very strange man, Monsieur. Anyone else would surely have taken advantage."

"Is that what you have grown accustomed to?"

Smile fading, she nodded. "Yes. There is very little truth to be found on the tongues of most men."

"And yet you believe me?"

She shrugged, gnawing on her lip. "I suppose I have no choice, Monsieur. But if you truly had deceit in mind, I believe it would have already been plainly presented."

"I would sooner cast off my own hand than harm you, Fantine. I trust you have suffered enough in this lifetime."

"Why?" she asked, overcome. "Could you truly see all that just by looking at me?"

Hesitant, Madeleine lifted a hand and brushed back a lock of her hair. "I have lived my own trials, Fantine. It is not difficult to recognize them in another's eyes."

With her heart in her throat, she allowed him the inappropriate touch. Gaining courage, she softly asked, "Shall I ever know of these trials?"

Madeleine smiled gravely. "I think not. My eyes are on the front of my head for a reason – I never intend to look back." Clearing his throat, he stepped away from her and frowned, disquieted by his own lack of propriety. "I shall have Gabrielle prepare you a bed. If you are ever in need of anything, you are free to call upon her."

Fantine scrunched her face, bemused by the sharp, indescribable loss from his withdrawal. "With all due respect, Monsieur, I could never imagine being waited upon. I shall be fine on my own."

"If you insist." Lightly pressing her elbow, he indicated that she follow. "Your bedroom shall be upstairs, just to the right of the banister. Should you require anything, Gabrielle is just down the hall."

"And you, Monsieur?" Flushing, Fantine quickly amended, "I-I mean, are you upstairs, as well?"

With a smile, he took her hand. "Goodnight, Fantine. You are in need of rest." Bending at the waist, he pressed a kiss to her knuckles, and the sensation jolted through her like a warm, heady spark. When he withdrew again, she feared that her face was a brilliant crimson.

"Goodnight, Monsieur," she whispered.