"Jehan, what the hell are those?" Marius asked incredulously, his eyes wide at the eye watering shade of yellow of the bunch of flowers he was holding.

"They're for Grantaire!" Jehan said in a sing-song voice.

"Oh, are you in love Jehan?" Courfeyrac inquired his tone over dramatic, as his eyes followed the other from his position on the sofa.

It was a Saturday morning about four weeks after the quidditch match, it was that time after breakfast, when no one can really be bothered to do anything. Marius and Cosette had curled up together on a large armchair, while Courf had an entire sofa to himself, stretched out across the cushions, but surprisingly reading, something that he hardly ever did. In fact Courfeyrac read so little, that most of his friends thought it was a miracle that he was able to. There were quite a few people in the common room, the atmosphere was quiet and lazy; it was almost the end of the term, snow had covered the ground in a thick blanket of white, and in every fireplace the house elves of Hogwarts had created a large fire, bathing the room with warmth.

Jehan blushed deep red, and it had nothing to do with the heat radiating from the flames; the question 'are you in love' was most definitely not meant to be asked by Courfeyrac.

"No!" The blond spoke, sounding like a two year old having a tantrum, making his friends smile slightly.

At his friends faces, Jehan continued "I just wanted to visit him, he's been in the hospital wing for ages, but Madame Pomfrey wouldn't let me visit him until now,"

"I'd wondered why he hadn't been coming to the meeting," Marius mused to himself, his arms still wrapped around Cosettes small frame.

"Send him our love," The girl chimed, looking away from Marius. Courfeyrac sniggered at her words, his sick mind twisting them into something more humorous, but Jehan merely ignored him, his face falling slightly.

"Aren't you going to come with me?"

Cosette blushed, but that was nothing compared Marius' reddened face as he stuttered "Em, well- Cosette and I, er, wanted to have some time alone..."

Jehan smiled slightly, also blushing- he was a hopeless romantic at heart, and any reference to the love between his two friends made him go fuzzy inside, Courfeyrac just burst out laughing. Flicking his golden braid behind his back, Jehan turned to Courfeyrac, and his laughter soon faded from his face as he realised he would have to go instead.

The dark haired teen rolled of the sofa faster than Jehan would have thought possible for Courfyrac, before he dramatically grovelled before the pair of lovers sitting on the armchair "Please, take me with you!"

"What?" Marius gasped eyes wide.

"We can have a threesome! You know you want to,"

"Courf, just piss off," Marius sighed, exasperated.

Throughout the conversation Jehan had watched, both his expression and flowers drooping "Come on Courf, one visit wouldn't hurt, would it?"

"I don't want to hang out in Joly's homeland with a guy who has more vodka in his piss than he does piss."

The poet frowned down at Courfeyrac, who was now sprawled across the common room floor, Jehan's face was an unbreakable mask of stubbornness, which Courfeyrac had seen enough times to know that this was one hospital visit he wasn't getting out of.

Groaning like a dying hippogriff, Courfeyrac got to his feet with a scowl to match Jehans "Fine! But you owe me, and I'm not above taking sexual favours,"

"Just get out of here, you're like an old married couple," Marius said trying to sound firm but failing due to the immense embarrassment from the revelation that 'yes, he and Cosette were going to have sex' which he had still not recovered from.

If he had looked, Marius would have seen Jehan blush at the comment, but he didn't, because why would he?

Courfeyrac on the other hand, did see. But only for a second; he had been too busy blushing himself.

"The hospital wing's this way," Courfeyrac pointed out, recovered from his annoyance.

"I know, but I thought we could get some of the others to join us,"

Courfeyrac stopped midway down the corridor, which was deserted aside from the two Hufflepuff boys, his eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"If you think you'll get Joly to stroll into a hospital wing full of sick people then you've got another thing coming!"

Jehan come to a halt with a sigh "Why do you always have to be sarcastic?" The blond looked so tired as he spoke that you'd have thought that he hadn't slept at all the previous night "You know, it is the lowest form of wit,"

"But the highest form of humour," Courfeyrac countered, approaching Jehan, slinging his arm around the defeated blond, taking pity on his hopeless expression "I don't really mind, Jehan," the brunette spoke softly, trying to cheer his friend up, who had shivered slightly at the others touch "It's just that we're not even friends with him,"

"Oh, but we are friends with him! You even invited him to come to the three broomsticks with us,"

"Yeah; you made me!" Courfeyrac shook his head, as the two continued towards Ravenclaw tower, but he knew that Jehan was right "But I guess he's alright, and I suppose," He spoke playfully now, drawing out his syllables, as he grinned at the now smiling poet "Visiting him seems like the nicest thing to do,"

After climbing the narrow spiral staircase, the pair finally reached the thick wooden with the bronze knocker.

"Round like an apple,and deep like a cup, yet all the kings horses can't pull it up," the metal bird squawked, it's eyes glinting dimly as it surveyed the two students before it.

"A well," Jehan answered confidently "Joly told me," he said in reply to Courfeyracs incredulous face. "And besides," the poet continued, mimicking Courfeyracs playful voice "it's not like it was a hard riddle,"

"Show off," The dark haired Hufflepuff muttered as he followed Jehan through the door, making his companion giggle.

"No!"

"But why?"

"Jehan, I have more important things to do, than sit around an acquaintances hospital bed," Enjolras huffed from his position at one of the tables in the Ravenclaw common room, his books and papers spread out as he tried to finish a potions essay (even though it wasn't due until after the Christmas holidays). Enjolras spent most of his time in the Ravenclaw common room; he immensely disliked spending time in Gryffindor tower, as it was usually the setting of one of James Potters stupid pranks, or rowdy discussions. So, seeing as though his best friend was a Ravenclaw, and Enjolras was usually clever enough to guess the password, he had sort of taken up residence in the other houses common room.

"Enjolras, I think that it might be a good thing to do, surely taking a break for an hour would actually do you good,"

"An hour!?" The Gryffindor squawked, looking at Comobeferre as though he'd just commit blasphemy, "I have work to do!"

"Enjolras the essay was only set yesterday, and-" Combeferre raised his voice, effectively cutting Enjolras off as he opened his mouth to argue "Grantaire is a friend, so surely you can spare him the time,"

Enjolras retorted bitterly "First of all I wouldn't really call him a friend-"

Jehan had to stamp on Courfeyracs foot to stop him smugly reminding them that that was what he had said.

"And secondly-"

"The hospital wing is really dangerous! Who knows what kind of illnesses you could pick up in there! Not to mention-"

"Joly! You don't have to go," Combeferre said as patiently as possible.

"Exactly," Enjolras replied "you can go to the hospital wing and I'll stay here and keep Joly company,"

Combeferre frowned at him, the kind of look which a parent gives to a misbehaving child. If anyone else had tried this on the leader they would have failed miserably. But this was Combeferre; the guide, the one who'd known Enjolras the longest, and was therefore probably the only person in the world who could command Enjolras with such a look.

With a resigned look the Gryffindor got to his feet "Okay, but only for half an hour,"

"I'm sure Grantaire will appreciate it," Combeferre said kindly, also glad that his friend was finally taking a break from his work.

Stretching slightly, Enjolras followed "I don't think he will, I've only spoken to him at the quidditch match; I doubt he remembers me,"

"I'm sorry,"

"Right,"

"No, really, I'm sorry,"

"You couldn't keep this son of a bitch alive for two minutes without me!" Eponine was sat on the end of the hospital bed, glaring so hard at Scorpius that it was a miracle the flesh hadn't melted off her face. Grantaire sunk lower in the hospital bed. Tuning out from Éponine and Scoupious' argument.

This time he really had overdone it. Once back in the dormitory Grantaire had proceed to find the alcohol that Éponine had hidden and drink it all, which shouldn't have affected him anymore than usual as he downed his entire alcohol store whenever he was feeling a little low, and then just bought more the next day. But the only trouble was that along with his booze was Éponines supply.

He really should have realised that drinking twice as much would get him twice as drunk as usual, which for Grantaire was a serious danger zone. But he hadn't thought, he never did.

Honestly though, what was the point? Even if he did die, no one would care. In the entire world his two friends would be the only people who'd even notice. In fact it was more than likely that most people would be pleased, so why didn't he just do them all a favour?

A dark mist began to descend upon Grantaire again. She was watching him again, clawing at him, trying to drag him deeper and deeper.

The Slytherin pressed his fingers against his bandaged arm, imagining the blood oozing from his torn skin.

And slowly he began to feel a familiar itch.

"Fucking ow!"

Grantaire was pulled away from her by Scoupius' cry of pain, he was glaring at the short brunette, who'd just punched him in the arm. The dark haired boy knew from experience that a punch from Éponine bloody hurt, but Scorpius had probably deserved it anyway. Grantaire quickly dropped his hands onto the bed before Éponine turned around, already feeling guilty about his indulgent thoughts.

"'Ponine, don't kill him!" Grantaire mumbled half heartedly, as his two friends faced each other looking ready to murder one another.

"Give me two good reasons," Éponine growled not letting her eyes stray from the blonds.

"Well..." Grantaire tried, he really did "Can't think of any, fuck off,"

Scorpius glared at Éponine for another second, before turning to Grantaire, apparently unfazed by his comment.

"Just get better soon Labelle - I need my drinking buddy back soon, or I'm gonna get a withdrawal," Grantaire just smirked slightly in response, much to Éponines disapproval, before Malfoy turned on his overly shiny heel and left the small cubicle Gantaire had been placed in.

"Do you want me to go too?" The brunette asked, her voice gentler as she sat back on the end of the hospital bed "I should probably warn Weasley that she's about to be molested by you know who," she continued jerking her head in the direction of Scorpius' retreating back.

"Nah, you can stay, as long as you don't hit me like that," the boy joked pulling himself somewhat into a sitting position.

"Well, you bloody deserve it R!" She quickly shot back, her eyes sparkling once more. Grantaire was about to make a joking retort, as usual, when what looked like a walking garden skipped into the room.

"Hi Grantaire, I brought you some flowers!" Jehan was stood before them looking so colourful that it bordered on shiny.

"Er..." Grantaire had meant to say thank you, but he was far too busy gawking at Jehans appearance.

The boy was shorter than both Grantaire and Éponine, his eyes were a sparkling sky blue, matched by his constant smile. But Grantaire knew this; he'd sat next to him for two years, No, the thing that made Grantaires eyes pop, and caused Éponine to mutter "Oh. My. Fucking. God." Was his truly 'unique' taste in clothing.

As it was a weekend everyone was able to wear casual cloths; and so Jehan was wearing floral skinny jeans, that were so bright that they must surely glow in the dark, along with an equally loud patterned jumper which clashed horribly. In his had were a bunch of canary yellow flowers, and to top off his appearance, he'd woven a mixture of dandelions and daisies into the long blond braid over his shoulder.

"Hi," Grantaire managed finally, after an internal struggle to find his voice. At this the Hufflepuff boy smiled even wider making him look in danger of spontainious human combustion, before the he walked around the bedside towards the table where he could arrange his gift. His walk was ridiculous, truly, if it hadn't been such a bizarre situation Grantaire would have killed himself laughing; Jehan seemed to be always almost walking on tip toes, as though he was constantly ready to break into dance, though his hips swung with such rhythm as he walked that it looked almost like a dance as it was. Somehow this drew the mental image of some exotic bird of paradise flouncing though the trees, showing off its bizarre plumage. Grantaire decided that that mental image pretty much summed up Jean Prouvaire.

Three other people entered the screened-off space around Grantaires bed after Jehan (but thankfully all were less colourfully clothed than their friend).

Courfeyrac bounded in first, smiling as ever, then came the Ravenclaw with glasses; Grantaire had only spoken to him at the first quidditch match and hadn't been able to remember his name, that's what happens when you sit next to the living embodiment of Apollo; all irrelevant information fades into the background, and the Ravenclaws name fell into that category (the drinking probably didn't help).

Just as Grantaire decided that his name began with C, said God followed his friends into the room and Grantaire felt whatever air he had in his lungs quickly leave.

Shit.

It was all the Slytherin could not to let his mouth hang open as he stared at Enjolras. Enjolras had come to see him; Grantaire wasn't worthy to black his boots.

The Blond caught Grantaire watching him and smiled ever so slightly.
If he hadn't been about to vomit from anxiety the Slytherin would have blushed.

Jehan was babbling on, but dark haired boy wasn't listening, he was far too busy mentally kicking himself.

Why the fuck was he getting so happy? Enjolras didn't like him, not like that, he was just being polite. He'd do that for all his friends, not that Grantaire considered himself a friend. No, he was nobody.

And he always would be.

"Éponine!" Courfeyracs over-enthusiastic cry snapped Grantaire out of his dark broodings. The Hufflepuff practically dived towards the girl, who was still so preoccupied staring at Jehan that she didn't have time to react before he had crushed her in a bear hug.

"Piss off Courf!" She snarled, jabbing him very hard in the ribs causing the boy to roll sideways into an empty chair, though he was grinning all the while.

Courfeyrac's three companions all took seats around the room as well, all smiling politely, aside from Courfeyrac who was chuckling to himself at Éponines glare.

Though he was grateful of the company, Grantaire wasn't quite sure why they had come; okay, he had sat beside Jehan for two years, but he'd never exactly been friendly. He still had no clue what specky's name was, and it wasn't as if he and Enjolras were pals. Granted, Courfeyrac had once invited Grantaire to go drinking, but he hadn't accepted; socialising wasn't exactly his forte.

"So are you feeling better, Grantaire?" The Ravenclaw asked, kindly "We've missed having you at the meetings,"

Have you? Have you really? Grantaire couldn't stop the cynic, voice in his head as he answered with a mere "Yeah, I'm fine,"

"So what was wrong? Madam Pomfrey wasn't very specific," Jehan asked, looking for more concerned than he should.

Grantaire opend his mouth to answer.

Combeferre!

The name of the other boy had just come to him, and Grantaire was momentarily pleased with himself for actually remembering something, before he realised that everyone was waiting for an answer. Even Éponine was watching, eyebrows raised to see what he'd say.

"I just drunk too much, fell over, and, you know, just hit my head a little," Grantaire lied smoothly, it was one of the few things he was actually good at.

"Aww, bit of a lightweight are we?" Courfeyrac teased.

"I wouldn't say that," Éponine muttered darkly.

The entire while, Grantaire couldn't focus; he could feel Enjolras watching him like a hawk, those brilliant blue eyes making him fidget beneath the bed sheets. Out of the corner of his eye Grantaire could just about make him out, still as a marble statue, and yet he couldn't seem to focus on anything else but the boy beside him.

"You shouldn't drink so much," the god talks "it isn't good for you're health,"

He cares!

The thought rebounded around Grantaire's foggy mind, he couldn't even muster up anymore of a response than to smile vaguely at Enjolras, the dark hole which constantly hovered around him seemed, for a second to be gone.

But as quickly as it left, the hopelessness returned, redoubling its strength as it crushed what little hope he had,

Grantaire let the smile fade from his faces. He couldn't do this, he had to stop getting his hopes up, it only made things more painful. Nothing ever went his way.

Enjolras must hate him, everyone found Grantaire repulsive. He disgusted himself.

Grantaire so desperately to be numb, not to care about anything. But that was all he wanted: to be cared about. Sure Éponine actually gave a crap if he was still alive and kicking, but no one else did, not even his family.

Every child deserved to be loved unconditionally by it's parents. At one point he'd he'd dared to hope that that was the kind of love his parents had for him, but, as usual, he was wrong.

But Grantaire didn't blame them, everything he did was a failure, and he hated it. Grantaire's life was just one big disappointment. He'd set himself low targets and then fail to meet them, and indulging in this little fantasy that Enjolras actually cared for him was just making things worse. He'd be far better off as soon as he accepted the truth:

Grantaire wasn't good enough for anyone, yet alone a god.