A/N: My first foray into the Les Mis fandom—but don't spare an honest critique; I have written fanfic before...
Also… if people like this enough, I can translate into French…
Les Premières Heures
L'été. The sun was just rising, pure and pink over the horizon. Combeferre loved this time of day; the brightness of dawn, when nothing stirred but him and the birds. There was nothing quite like that illuminating quiet. He breathed in the cool morning air, knowing all too well that soon that perfect silence would be disrupted by the city waking all around him. He loved the bustle; that was progress, of course, but something hidden deeper within him ached for the quiet solitude of dawn.
He had woken before sunrise as a boy in the green south country, and now, as a man in the city it held no less joy for him.
He idly watched a bird perched on the edge of a roof. He recognized the type: phoenicurus ochruros. Their song had a pretty affectation, and their tails were a striking bright red. This one was a dull brown color; a female. He smiled as he recalled the little guide to birds he had found several summers earlier. This had been one of the first birds he had encountered; a flash of brightness amid the common grey pigeons.
He was awakened from his reverie by the loud rumbling of a cart rolling over the cobbles; a door slamming; a woman's voice ringing out shrilly from a second-story window. Business as usual, he thought, glancing after the sounds. His lips formed a smile, as he attempted to convince himself that this contented him, but his eyes betrayed him; he was sad to see the quiet dawn go.
He looked again for the bird, but it had gone; off to a new perch; perhaps, to sing a new song. Meanwhile, all around him the bright light of day now shone and Paris was waking.
With a knowing shake of his head, the philosopher set off down the street in search of breakfast.