A/N- I have the strangest writing playlists EVER. Who would have guessed that Strauss, the Clash, Vienna Teng, Maslanka, Katy Perry, Quartetto Gelato, Pink Floyd and [insert about forty other extremely eclectic bands/singers/composers here] would get along so nicely and inspire me so thoroughly? Then again, that's me all over- not quite one thing, nor quite the other. And isn't that a frustrating thing, let me tell you-!

Chapter 7: Christmas, 1830 part 1

Somehow December slipped away before Eponine had time to notice it had arrived, and then Christmas was nearly upon them. Paris had wrapped herself a heavy cloak of alabaster, the wind was howling around the eaves of every house, and Gavroche was in need of a new coat, his being little more than a mass of holes held together by a few threads. Strictly speaking, Eponine and Azelma needed new coats as well, but when they counted their money and realized that they only had enough left over to buy one, the pair of them determined that Gavroche needed it more badly than either of them. And so the coat was bought as a Christmas present for the young boy, and the two sisters resigned themselves to another winter of shivering.

Shivering was exactly what Eponine found herself doing a great deal of as she struggled in the direction of the Thenardiers' apartment. It was Christmas Eve, and a wretched storm had paralyzed the city. Snow had been falling almost continuously for several days, but the pace of the snowfall had picked up considerably early that morning. As the day had progressed, the temperature had risen just enough to turn the precipitation to sleet, slicking over the cobblestones and drenching the entire city in the sort of late-winter atmosphere usually reserved for late February, when the novelty of the cold weather has worn off and everyone would much rather it were springtime already.

It was now a little after four o'clock in the afternoon, and with the darkening sky the temperature was diving again, and the wind had picked up violently. The streets were nearly empty, with only the most intrepid- or the very stupid- venturing forth in this weather. Eponine wasn't sure which category she fell into.

She had scraped together the last of their money, what she had saved by not buying herself a new coat as well, and gone out well over two hours previously to buy a chicken for dinner. She might not be able to provide her siblings with a feast like she knew the bourgeois across the city would be enjoying tonight, but it was still Christmas, and she would make sure the Thenardiers would celebrate! She had not been able to afford a very large bird, but it was certainly better than the black bread they had subsisted on for the past two weeks in order to afford it.

Eponine turned her shoulder into the gusts, the only way she could make any headway, blinking repeatedly to clear her eyes of the irritated water the stinging wind was calling forth. Her hair, tumbling out from beneath her cap, was crusted with ice and her numb fingers were nearly blue. The worst of it was, she couldn't even tuck her hands into her pockets or sleeves, because she had to carry the bird. She whined wordlessly under her breath in frustration and exhaustion. A particularly strong blast of wind unsteadied her momentarily and she had to stop to catch her balance.

"I'll never get home," she moaned.

She took another few steps, determined to press on despite the fact that she could no longer feel her toes inside her worn boots. Suddenly, she hit a patch of ice slicked over still further by the sleet, and her foot sailed out from under her. She flailed her arms in a desperate attempt to keep her balance, but to no avail, and suddenly she was sitting in the snow, her backside aching, her clothes soaked, and the chicken that had caused all this trouble sitting in the gutter.

It took Eponine a few moments to catch her breath, the impact with the pavement having jolted it out of her. Once she had collected herself a little and sat up on her knees, she looked around to see her precious bird, which had cost her two days' wages, lying in a muddy puddle of slush.

Eponine did not cry easily, but this sight was enough to draw a low, keening sob from her throat. She clutched her freezing fingers to her mouth and rocked back and forth a little feeling, as she sometimes did, a tremendous spurt of impotent fury at the unfair world that had forced her to take responsibility for her siblings when she was only a child herself, at the world that allowed girls like her to slip through the cracks so easily and fall down on the hard edges that were sure to break them if they weren't strong. She always told herself she was strong, but right now, she did not feel strong. She felt like she wanted to curl up right there on the pavement and let herself be buried by the snow. She was so tired... she was always so tired!

And then she was done. Despite the tears that still ran from her eyes only to freeze on her cheeks, she had Azelma and Gavroche waiting for her. She couldn't break down. Sniffling, she crawled on her hands and knees over to where the chicken lay in the gutter. She reached out a hand and tried to pull the bird toward her.

"Mademoiselle?" a light voice asked from right behind her.

Eponine jumped and the chicken fell back into the puddle with a splash. She rocked back on her heels and looked up at the young man who had startled her. Her eyes widened as she recognized the sweet face looking down at her. It was Jean Prouvaire.

"Monsieur Prouvaire!" she exclaimed. "Where have you come from?"

"I've told you before, call me Jehan," he said. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "I'm not hurt, at least. What are you doing out in such awful weather?"

"I left a volume of Dante's at the cafe and ran to retrieve it before Roxanne closed up," he explained.

"And so once again we meet with me having fallen flat on my face," she sighed.

"Are you sure you are alright, Eponine?"

"Yes," she said quickly. Then she sighed. "Not really. I have lost my chicken."

"So I see," he replied, offering his hand to help her up, which Eponine took gratefully, reminded vividly of their first meeting. As he pulled her up, he saw her face clearly for the first time. "Eponine, you're crying!" he exclaimed. "You really are not alright!"

Eponine shook her head quickly. "No, it's fine. I'm fine. A little fall is not all that bad. It's just..." she looked wistfully at the bird lying in the street. "It was supposed to be our Christmas dinner. Now we shall have nothing."

Jehan thought for a moment, then shook his head decisively. "I think not, Eponine. I would not have a friend go hungry on Christmas, of all times!"

She shook her head. "No, I can't ask for your charity."

"No charity!" he protested. "My friends and I- the ones who have remained in the city for the holidays, that is- are all dining together tonight, at my home. You and your siblings must come, of course!"

Eponine debated with herself. Through a combination of Gavroche's involvement and their frequent presence at the Musain, she had seen the Amis quite often, and gotten to know some of them a little. She was fond of Jehan of course, and the lighthearted Alexandre Joly, and the others were polite to her, which was not necessarily the status quo for patrons of the cafe. Despite her misgivings regarding their politics, Gavroche had convinced her (grudgingly) that they were good boys. Spending Christmas with them was not at all an unappealing prospect.

On the other hand, she was not keen on being in close company with Antoine Enjolras. She had been purposefully avoiding him since the argument they'd had the last time Montparnasse turned up. He was, in her opinion, a very haughty and unpleasant young man, and to be perfectly honest, she was a little embarrassed at how easily he seemed to provoke her. When her duties for her job forced her into the back room with him, she avoided his eyes and if she had to speak to him for any reason, her words were terse, her tone neutral, and her sentences brief.

But being able to give her siblings full bellies and a proper Christmas outweighed her personal dislike of one member of the Amis. After all, she told herself, Enjolras might not even be there. Perhaps he had gone home to celebrate the holidays. Though frankly, he did not seem like the type to celebrate much of anything, she thought with an inward smile.

She had been silent for several long moments before she finally said, "Alright, Jehan, I accept. Just let me go and fetch Azelma and 'Vroche and we will..." A thought occurred to her, stopping her mid-sentence. "Actually, I do not know where you live!"

He smiled. "Well then, I shall accompany you! I am sure everything is just fine in Combeferre's capable hands back at my apartment- they will not miss me for another ten minutes more or less."

Eponine glanced at the chicken still lying in the gutter. "Perhaps I ought to take it home anyway," she murmured to herself. "Maybe if I cleaned it off a bit..." Then she sighed and shook her head. "Alright then, let's go."

When she arrived home with Jehan in tow, Gavroche was nothing sort of delighted, and pulled the amused student by the hand across the floor to where the younger of the Thenardier sisters sat, and introduced them with much enthusiasm and little style. Azelma blushed and looked down demurely when he kissed her hand, but regained her confidence quickly, exclaiming delightedly that she hadn't been to a proper party in years. She immediately began fussing with her hair while Eponine tried to work out what on earth to do about her sleet-soaked dress.

Gavroche rolled his eyes, informed Jehan matter-of-factly that they were likely to be kept waiting for some time, and dragged him out into the hall. Eponine was grateful, as it gave her the opportunity to remove her sodden working dress and pull on the pretty green gown the sisters kept for special occasions. It was a lovely affair in emerald paduasoy silk, not quite fashionable anymore but certainly fine, which had cost far more than Eponine liked to think about, but it was shared between the sisters so she supposed that justified the cost.

This led to a small amount of pouting on the part of Azelma, who had thought of wearing it herself. However, as Eponine pointed out, she had nothing else to wear, and besides, Azelma's everyday dresses were finer by far than Eponine's (who had made a point of arranging it so, as Azelma needed to be pretty far more than Eponine did).

"Put on your pretty gloves and the bonnet with the lace and no one will know the difference," Eponine said diplomatically. She pulled on her own gloves and smiled.

Gavroche poked his head in through the door. "Are you two roses quite bloomed yet?" he cried. "It is awfully cold out in the hall, and it wouldn't be right for Monsieur Jehan to be late to his own soirée!"

Eponine shooed him away. "Yes, we're coming!" she said patiently. "I couldn't go out soaked to the bone, now could I?"

When the two sisters emerged from the apartment, Gavroche gave a joyful shout and sprinted down the stairs. Jehan offered Azelma his arm, and the three older people followed the exuberant boy out of the building.

As they stepped out into the street, Azelma said, "I confess, I'm very eager to meet your friends, Monsieur Prouvaire. Gavroche has always spoken very highly of the members of your, uh, society."

He smiled at her as they walked down the street. "And we think very highly of him in turn," he said. "Your brother is a remarkable boy, Mlle. Thenardier."

"That he is," Azelma replied. "We're fond of him, anyway."

Gavroche chose that moment to stoop down and begin scooping up a handful of snow in his bare fingers. Jehan and Azelma were still conversing and did not notice. Eponine, however, who was walking at the rear of the little group, saw immediately what her brother intended.

"Don't you dare," she warned him in a low voice.

"Oh, you're no fun," he said. "If Navet were here, we'd have a proper war!"

"Well, he is not here, only three people who would much prefer to keep their clothes dry, thank you very much!"

Gavroche pouted, and for the length of several streets, he was quiet and sullen. However, by the time they turned onto the street that Jehan announced to be his, the prospect of seeing all his revolutionary friends had restored him to high spirits and he was running circles around the group once more.

A/N- Part 2 coming soon. Hopefully as early as tomorrow, if I can arrange it. Review?