Enjolras had come out of the lecture feeling extremely annoyed and frustrated, no matter how he tried he couldn't get the thought of mademoiselle Esmeralda out of his head. He had given up half an hour into the lecture and had just sat there in his thoughts, replaying the whole encounter over and over. He had tried analysing her body language, her words and he even tried analysing his own behaviour. To be struck speechless by a woman, him! He was the man that the boys of Les Amis said the only woman in his heart was Patria, a figurative metaphor. The encounter was so strange for him, he had acted like a totally different person. He normally didn't pay attention to any woman's looks when he met them, but how come he could perfectly recall and describe the colour of her fiery eyes or the way her luscious black hair reflected the sun's glow in the midday heat. It was ridiculous! But she was so verbally powerful and outspoken, some traits he was proud to say he found in himself. He knew when to admit a woman was attractive, but he normally stamped it out of his head after about a few minutes, but no mademoiselle has ever made him think so hard like her.

"-and for the last time Esmeralda, I implore you to-"

"Stay by your side at all times, yes I understand Papa." Esmeralda chuckled slightly.

"If you understood perhaps you would finally listen to me once." Papa said with a frustrated sigh.

"I listen to you plenty of times Papa." She gave the arm she was holding onto a firm squeeze of reassurance, "and 'understanding' does not always mean to be complacent."

Papa huffed in response.

"Who was that young man back at the square?" Papa asked hesitantly, his eyes darting down to look at her, "I do hope you're not wandering up to complete strangers and striking conversations with them."

Esmeralda let out of chortle, "I ran into him and sent the poor man flying, I was merely making my apologies to him."

There was a pause.

"He seems rich though."

"Esmeralda!" Papa gasped, a scandalous looking on his face. "You know we do not judge and discriminate people based on their wealth."

"I'm joking Papa!" a light grin spread across her rosy lips, "Mon Dieu, old age as made you lose your ability to laugh."

Papa glared at her out of the corner of his eye as they passed a group of children begging for money. Papa reached into his pockets and brought out all the spare change and handed some to Esmeralda, telling her to pass it around the few children. This was the Papa she knew. The selfless man that never questioned people when he helped them and provided heaps of care to those in need.

She had decided to keep the meeting a secret from Papa for now, for she could imagine how he'd react to her telling him that she was going to a meeting full of young university students who were planning a full-scale revolution upon the monarchy. Papa barely even let her walk alone in daylight, her attending a meeting at 8pm in the middle of Paris was out of the question. If her Papa thought Paris was dangerous in the day time, then he must've thought Paris was the embodiment of hell at night. She wasn't worried though, she had a plan to make sure she would be able to attend that meeting, even if it meant slightly risking her life.

Esmeralda had a gut feeling someone was staring at the back of her head, so she turned and glanced around her, searching for a pair of eyes that were trained on her. There, across the street from her was a young man staring at her with his mouth slightly open. His brown hair stuck up in odd places, as if he had run his hand through it multiple times throughout the day and though his clothes were slightly ruffled in some places, they were still well made. His tall body seemed to freeze as they locked eyes with each other. Oh? Esmeralda recognized him as the man that had given the speech at the rally along with Monsieur Enjolras. She smiled at him courteously and nodded her head in greeting, after all she was going to be seeing him later tonight, she assumed, at the meeting. Esmeralda turned back to her Papa, who was tugging her along the street as he greeted people and handed out spare change to the beggars along it. Curiously, she glanced back to the spot where the young man was and surprisingly he was still there, standing in a stupor; still looking at her. How odd, she thought.

Evening soon arrived at the citizens of Paris as the sun painted colours across the sky like it was a palette, as it finally bid the city farewell behind the horizon. The last of the sun's golden rays shone into Esmeralda's room through her open window as she bathed within the windowsill, soaking up the sun's last moments. She had found out earlier, while her Papa was momentarily distracted, the exact location of Café Musain by asking some people in the area. The summer days were long and the nights painfully short, it was already a 7 in the evening. As much as she loved summer, she couldn't stand the short nights, why you ask? Because Esmeralda always found a fascination in star-gazing, a strange habit for an estranged young woman. Ever since she was young, she had loved watching the twinkling of the stars and pointing at different constellations in the night sky and since in the summer the nights were shorter, it meant less time for star gazing. Hearing the small chime of the clock outside her room, signalling it was a quarter past 7, she finally put her plan into action. Luckily for her, her room was on the ground floor of their small cottage house, which meant it was easy for her sneak out of her window without having to make a makeshift rope out of sheets.

She quietly tiptoed upstairs to her Papa's study, where he was working diligently away at his desk. She silently leaned against the doorframe for a moment, watching her father work. She admired the amount of effort and hard-work he put into everything, it was a trait she wishes she would be able to attain one day. Her Papa had a habit of checking up on her about 15 minutes after she had declared she was going to bed, you see. So first, she would have to make sure her Papa wouldn't pay her an unwanted visit later.

"Papa." She called softly.

His head turned, finally noticing her presence and shifted the direction of his body towards her.

"Oh, Esmeralda. Is there something you need?" he adjusted his glasses against the bridge of his nose as he asked.

"Today has been quite exhausting, so I'm deciding to retire early." Esmeralda stated quietly.

He gave a chortle and turned back to his work, "I can imagine, with you running off all the time today."

"Yes, so I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't check on me, Papa." She added on for good measure, "You know how the sun makes me a light sleeper."

Esmeralda watched her Papa bob his head up and down before she quickly left the study room and hurried downstairs, into her bedroom. She hopped into bed and waited patiently for 15 minutes, making sure her father was definitely not going to check up on her. She heard the creaking of the old floorboards above her room as her father wandered into his own room. It seemed that chasing her around all day had worn him all out as well. She waited a few more minutes, till the creaking had ceased and she was sure he had gone to bed, for her to hop out of her own. She grabbed her favourite cloak from her closet and quickly draped the dark turquoise fabric around her shoulders before opening her bedroom window and carefully hopping out onto the soft grass. Pulling her hood up around her head, she shut her window with a soft click, she didn't need her neighbours to tattle on her to her Papa.

She quickly tip-toed towards the black metal gates that barred her garden from the street. Esmeralda felt herself cringe as the gate squeaked ever so slightly as she slowly opened and closed it behind her. Finally making it onto the street, she let out a breath she didn't even realise she was holding. After taking one last look back at her house, she hurried down the street with her heart thundering in her chest, whether it was from the excitement or from all the running, she had no idea. Only time would tell she guessed.

When Esmeralda finally arrived at Café Musain, she couldn't help but feel intimidated by the tall building. The sun had finally set, and the sky was erasing the last of the red streaks of paint with a dark midnight blue. She paused, what if they wouldn't let her in, even after she had come all the way here? So many anxious thoughts plagued and clouded her mind she hadn't realized the new presence of a person standing next to her.

"Mademoiselle Esmeralda?"

Her heart leaped into her throat as a strangled yelp left her lips as she turned to face the owner of the voice.

"Monsieur Combeferre?" Esmeralda lowered the hood of her cloak to face the familiar man she had met earlier today. "Are you here for the meeting as well?"

"Mademoiselle, I must say this was the last place I expected to run into you again." Said Combeferre with a smile, he lowered his voice to a whisper before carrying on, "How on earth have you heard about the meeting?"

"I ran into Monsieur Enjolras after shortly departing from you," she hurriedly explained, "I recognized him from the rally and might've… persuaded him to invite me along."

"Persuade Enjolras?" Combeferre guffawed. "Now that mademoiselle I find very hard to accept, Enjolras is as stubborn as a mule, but don't tell him I said that will you."

Esmeralda grinned at Combeferre's words.

"Me and Enjolras weren't looking where we were going and knocked into each other, I sent his papers flying." Muttered Esmeralda. "I happened to come upon one of the speeches he wrote for these very meetings and that's how I discovered them. I managed to bugger him enough to allow me to attend one, you see."

Combeferre was speechless. The young mademoiselle had managed to convince Enjolras, the man that would rather be in the company of several police officers than a woman, to let her come along to these very exclusive meetings. It was a difficult feat indeed and Combeferre had to hand it to her for managing it. Realising they were still standing on the steps of the café, Combeferre offered his elbow to Esmeralda.

"The meeting's going to start in about 15 minutes, might as well get you introduced nice and early, shall we?"

Esmeralda nodded eagerly at Combeferre's words and quickly took his elbow and placed her hand in the crook of it as she let him lead her inside. She noticed the small nod he sent to the middle-aged woman behind the bar as a greeting and continued to lead Esmeralda further into the café. They finally got to a small door, that looked like Combeferre had to duck to get through, that opened to reveal a set of stairs in front of them. Pulling up her thin skirt as she trotted up the stairs to the landing that thankfully had a higher ceiling for Combeferre's sake. The sudden grow in noise become evident to her every step she took towards the last door on the landing and by the time she arrived at the door she could hear the definite sounds of muffled young male voices shouting and laughing through the wooden door.

A rush of adrenaline surged through her veins as she stopped outside the wooden door. Her heart thrummed in her chest like a hummingbird's wings beating in flight as she felt the adrenaline course through her veins, she wasn't normally this nervous about meeting people. Combeferre seemed to detect her hesitance to open the door and smiled kindly to her.

"I know it can be pretty daunting at first, but I assure you they're all good men in there." He said encouragingly.

It wasn't the men she was worried about! She feared how they would perceive her, maybe she was so nervous about this because she cared about it. She cared about how they'd react to her and if they were willing to accept her into their ranks. She so wanted to be a part of this group of ragtag young revolutionists as one of their own. She thought back to how she once envied the other bourgeois girls and their close group of friends, she'd take these group of boys any day over those girls. Here she was thinking these thoughts when she hadn't even met them properly yet! What if they hated her? Despised her because she was a woman?

Oh, how silly she felt she was being! Esmeralda knew anxiety wasn't becoming of her and she didn't suit it. She had always perceived herself as a young confident woman that didn't give a thought on what other people thought of her, but here she was too nervous to nervous to open a day with her own hand because she was too scared on what a group of young men thought of her.

"I'll be with you every step of the way, Mademoiselle." Combeferre placed his free hand over Esmeralda's hand that was gripping the crook of his elbow like she was holding on for dear life. "And if any of the boy's step out of line at any time, I'll be sure to set them straight."

Esmeralda giggled at Combeferre's sweet words.

"Monsieur, I think it's high time I let you call me by my first name, don't you?" she gave him a lazy, sloped smile. "Formalities make the mood stifling, in my opinion."

"Only if you call me by Lucien or Ferre, Esmeralda." His eyes widened slightly as he quickly added on, "That is- only if you're comfortable with that, I mean."

Esmeralda chuckled heartily at Combeferre, with her eyes glinting with mischief in those stormy green pools.

They both broke out of the reverie as the door in front of them suddenly swung open to reveal yet another handsome young man. Esmeralda noticed his dishevelled clothes and the bottle of wine he clutched in one of his hands. His mop of curly dark brown hair seemed to bounce as the man finally turned to them.

"Ah! I thought I 'eard your voice Ferre-" The young man's eyes suddenly shifted from Combeferre to her. "And I see you brought a lady friend, Enjolras is goin' to have a fit."

"Ah, yes but Grantaire-"

"And what may I call you mademoiselle? I'm not fond of formalities you see." Grantaire reached for the hand that wasn't clutching onto Combeferre and brought it to his lips.

"Well, you're in luck Monsieur, for I share the same sentiments." Esmeralda smiled at him flirtingly. "My name is Esmeralda."

"What a fitting name." chuckled Grantaire. "My name is Damien Grantaire."

He stared intensely into Esmeralda's green orbs as he said this, seemingly taken with the colour of her eyes.

"Well why don't we head in? Instead of loiter around the doorway." Combeferre cut in, staring accusingly at Grantaire.

Grantaire raised an eyebrow at him, but soon turned and walked down the tiny hallway entry to the large room.

"What was it you were saying before Ferre?" asked Grantaire turning back to Combeferre.

"Yes, before you very rudely interrupted I was about to say that I wasn't actually the one to invite her along."

They finally arrived at the large bustling room, where every single member of the meeting seemed to be a dashing young man. Esmeralda glanced around the room, taking in every single member. The atmosphere was warm and friendly, and the room bustled with talk and laughter, but it grew deafeningly quiet at the trio's arrival. Esmeralda felt the eyes of practically every single member on her. Not knowing where to look, she just trained her eyes on the floor, afraid she'd make eye contact with one of them.

"Well, if you didn't, then who would have?"

"I did."

The whole of the room's occupants shifted their attention to the back of the room where the voice had resonated from. In the back of the room Esmeralda's eyes found Enjolras, who was surrounded by papers he had spread across the table in front of him, bathing under the moonlit sky from the window. A murmur broke out in the middle of the silence: "Enjolras invited a woman?", "How out of character." Esmeralda twiddled her fingers and finally spoke up.

"It's wonderful seeing you again, Monsieur Enjolras." Esmeralda spoke brightly, a smile illuminating her face as she stepped further into the room.

"I must be honest, I thought you weren't going to show." Replied Enjolras, rising from his chair and slowly making his way over to her.

"Well, I wouldn't have missed it for the world." Esmeralda felt a sense of mischief creep up her spine as she said her next words, "Not after all the persuading I had to do."

In the corner of the room, Grantaire choked on his wine and let out a barking laugh. Combeferre stared down at Esmeralda with wide eyes, wondering if she knew what she had implied and by the poorly supressed smile on her face, she did. Esmeralda swear she could hear multiple men sputter at her words, but her eyes were trained the rising blush that appeared on Enjolras' cheeks. A loud hoot was heard from one corner of the room followed up a chorus of "I didn't know you had it in ya Enjolras!" and multiple wolf-whistles. Esmeralda stared at Enjolras innocently as he refuted the responses and shouted they simply had an argument which she had obviously won. A hand tapped on her shoulder lightly and turned to see a rather fresh-faced young man with his arm thrown round Combeferre's shoulders.

"Esmeralda let me introduce you to a close comrade of mine," Combeferre patted the other man heartily on his back, "This charming fellow is Adrien Courfeyrac, don't fall for his sweet talk though. He's probably already wooed half the women in Paris."

"It's a pleasure finally make your acquaintance mademoiselle." For the umpteenth time that night, Esmeralda found her hand being picked up and kissed again by another fine young gentlemen.

So, this young man is a notorious flirt? She pondered. Her eyes evaluated him and analysed every piece of body language he put forward to her. He was obviously enjoying himself as he asked in Enjolras' embarrassment in front of the others, and she assumed that Courfeyrac had been whispered a few details about herself before making himself known to her, all in all he seemed like an alright man.

Esmeralda did not want this meeting to turn into a husband hunting party, that was the least of the things that were on her mind but somehow, she couldn't help it. She was surrounded by a large group of intelligent forward-thinking young men, and it didn't hurt that most of them were rather good looking. She was introduced to the prominent members of the group, that were some of Combeferre and Enjolras' closest confidants, one of which was Nicolas Joly – a cheerful young man who was one of Combeferre's classmates who studied medicine along with him, yet at the same time suffered from hypochondriasis. Another was Jerôme Feuilly- the only non-student member among them and made beautiful hand-made fans for a living. She was then introduced to Jean Prouvaire, who insisted she called him Jehan. He was slightly shyer and more innocent compared to his rambunctious friends and at the same time he struck her as a man who wouldn't hesitate to step up to a challenge. Then it was finally Marius Pontmercy, the young brunette who had stood alongside Enjolras during today's earlier rally and the one who she had spotted across the street from her. Marius seemed to have a loss of words for her as he couldn't seem to even form a proper sentence to introduce himself to her, which she chuckled light-heartedly.

After about what seemed like an eternity of greetings and introductions, the loud thumping of a glass bottle against a hard-wooden table tore everyone's attention from the lovely Esmeralda. The meeting was finally about to start. Everybody settled into their respective spaces and turned their attention to Enjolras, who was currently standing atop of a table. Esmeralda found herself sharing a comfy booth with Combeferre and Courfeyrac, both sitting on either side of her while Grantaire lounged lazily on a wooden chair across the table from her.

The orange glow from the candlelight dimly illuminated everybody's faces as they intently listened to the powerful words Enjolras spoke to them. The warm light from the candles almost created a romantic atmosphere within the room, if it weren't for all the talk of a revolution that is. Esmeralda had been immensely amused when she had found out from Grantaire that Enjolras' nickname among their group was Apollo, the infamous Greek god of the sun, but in all honestly Esmeralda had to intensely agree upon how fitting the nickname was. He was their sunlight within the true horrid dark of their frightening world. Enjolras provided sanctuary, hope and freedom for souls who found themselves outcasted for their beliefs. He burned so bright, so passionately for them that he basically became a beacon of hope for the rest of the Les Amis. He talked about how they'd liberate France from the clutches of poverty and exclaimed how they'd be the first to be prepared for the new world they would bring for the lower classes. Esmeralda hung on every single word he spoke, her eyes never deviating from Enjolras' face. It seemed like she was the one under the spell now.

The speech finishes with loud deafening cries of "Vive la France!" and the members of the Les Amis are left to socialise freely for the rest of the night. Drinks are generously passed round, mush to Grantaire's content. Esmeralda noted how she couldn't recall a moment from tonight, so far, where there wasn't a drink in Grantaire's hand.

"Esmeralda! Would you like a glass of the finest wine in Paris?" Grantaire held up a large full wine bottle, freshly opened.

Esmeralda raised a dark eyebrow at him.

"Surely you jest, Grantaire." She said with a chuff.

"I certainly am, my dear." He poured a rather generous amount of wine into her glass. "We only bring that bottle out for extremely special occasions."

Esmeralda inhaled the rich scent of the wine before gulping down the whole of the classes contents as her fellow table mates looked on in amusement and shock. Her glass green eyes glimmered in the flickering candlelight as she stared down Grantaire.

"What?" She asked innocently. "You're not the only one who can drink, Grantaire."

Grantaire merely smirked and winked in response, which she chuckled to merrily. A dash of gold caught her eye as she turned back to the table Enjolras occupied, alone. His head was down, eyes focused on the piece of paper as he wrote quickly and diligently. Deciding that the poor man could use a break, she excused herself from her table and quietly made her way over to Enjolras, swirling the contents of her drink in hand. She silently sat down in the seat across him, watching him write, he hadn't even looked up since she was there.

A few tables away, Grantaire, Combeferre, Courfeyrac and Marius curiously watched the couple.

"Isn't she beautiful?" commented Marius with a lovestruck look in his eyes.

Grantaire huffed into his drink, of course the gomer bourgeois boy had already fallen hopelessly in love with dear Esme.

"Cer'ainly a looker." Grantaire agreed. "But she's definitely not all looks and perfume, like the rest of those girls."

"Agreed." Replied Courfeyrac.

"Maybe she's the one." Interjected Combeferre, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. "The Cyrene to our Apollo."

"Who?"

"Cyrene," stressed Combeferre, "The mortal huntress that Apollo fell hopelessly in love with while she fought off a Lion."

Grantaire harrumphed and Marius' face fell in dejection.

"Doubt it," quipped Grantaire.