17
A couple of days after the incident with Grantaire, Gavroche brought home a kitten.
It was tiny. Not just because it was a kitten, but because it was a very scrawny kitten with little to no fat on its body. Its fur was matted and dirty; the majority of it's body was white, although there was a black stretch of fur along its back, a splodge over one of its bright blue eyes and its ear, and it had black socks on its feet. The tip of its tail was black as well.
Gavroche brought it home, and the tiny beast was tucked away into Gavroche's jacket pocket. He presented Éponine with the cat with all the glee she would associate with a much older man presenting his true love with the most expensive diamond he could afford. But Éponine gazed upon this cat with something like horror.
She wasn't sure what it was. Was it the mangy appearance of the creature? Or was it the desperate look in its eyes as it wriggled, trying to escape the slightly too-tight way Gavroche was holding it just underneath its front legs?
"You're holding it wrong," was the first thing she said, remembering back to Montfermeil when they'd had a tabby cat. She reached down and adjusted Gavroche's grip, making him support the cat's back legs and cradle its body in the crook of his arm.
"Can I keep it?" Gavroche asked, voice high-pitched with excitement.
Éponine looked down at the poor creature, which was now meowing. It was one of the most pitiful, and irritating, noises that Éponine had ever heard.
"We don't need a cat," she said.
"I want it, though," Gavroche pouted. He squeezed the kitten a little too much and it squealed in response.
"Gav, don't hold it so tight," Éponine sighed. "It's not a toy. Give it here."
The kitten was incredibly light, and she could hold it in both of her hands quite comfortably. A quick examination told her the creature was female, and she stopped meowing the moment Éponine stroked a fingertip over its forehead.
She was actually quite cute, in an ugly kind of way; she desperately needed a wash, Éponine decided, and her fur needed all of the knots combing out of it.
"Where did you find her?" Éponine said, staring into the cat's bright eyes.
"Around," Gavroche said, vaguely. "Courfeyrac helped me catch it. He thought you might like it. Can I give it a name?"
"I've not decided if we're keeping her yet, Gavroche," she said, although she had made up her mind. She'd need to have words with Courfeyrac at some point, though. "And I'm naming her."
Gavroche pouted. "But –"
"If I'm letting you keep her, I'm naming her," Éponine cut him off, giving him a very pointed look. "Conjure me a bath of warm water and some soap, will you?"
"What for?" Gavroche's face scrunched up in confusion. "It's a cat."
"Look at the state of her," Éponine said with a sigh. "Poor thing. She needs all of the knots sorting out and she's filthy, Gav. She needs a bath. Do as you're told."
With some grumbling, he began to conjure a small tin bath and a bar of soap. Éponine sat down on the sofa and rested the kitten on her knee. The small animal stood up on its skinny legs and turned a couple of times, eyes staring around the room and then finally stopping to look up at Éponine.
Giving a rather fierce looking yawn, the kitten sat down. She gave another one of her squeaky, high-pitched meows as if she was trying to say something to Éponine. In response, Éponine began to stroke the top of the kitten's head gently.
"It's done," Gavroche announced.
For such a small creature, it put up a huge fight against going in the tepid water. Her claws were very sharp and Éponine had never been more grateful for the lack of ability to be physically harmed in this world.
After a few moments of being immersed in the water, the kitten gave up its fight and allowed Éponine to wet its fur. She wasn't really sure how to go about this; she'd never washed a cat before, but she lathered the soap up between her hands and then began to rub it into the kitten's fur. The water turned murky as all of the dirt began to wash away. Conjuring a small, fine-toothed comb, Éponine set about brushing out all of the knots in the kitten's tangled fur. Some of them would not go, however, and she was forced to retrieve a knife from their kitchen to cut the knot away. The kitten seemed to enjoy the combing, her eyes going sleepy and a soft purr humming from her chest.
"Conjure me a towel, please," Éponine instructed Gavroche as she lifted the kitten out of the bath. Gavroche did as he was asked without speaking, and handed Éponine a white towel a few moments later. Éponine wrapped the small feline inside the towel and rubbed her fur gently to soak up some of the excess water.
Then she unwrapped the towel and let the kitten stand on all four feet in the middle of the room. With her fur wet, the animal looked even smaller and skinnier. There was an adorably bewildered expression on her little face, and the high-pitched meowing resumed.
"So we're keeping her," Gavroche said.
"I suppose so," Éponine replied as the kitten padded across the floor towards her. It boldly placed its two front feet on Éponine's knee and began to sniff her dress. "She is quite cute, now she's clean," Éponine said. "What to call you, though?"
She stared down into the little kitten's eyes. They were an unusual colour; blue, but a very bright blue, with almost a purple hue. Once more, she was reminded of a childhood in Montfermeil, of brightly coloured hyacinths growing in the woods near her parent's inn during the summer. Her favourite ones had always been the blue ones, although the shade often edged towards purple. Gazing into the kitten's eyes, Éponine felt herself fall a little bit in love.
"Hyacinthe," she said. "We're calling her Hyacinthe."
"Hyacinthe?" Gavroche scowled. "That's not a good name for a cat. That's not a good name at all!"
Éponine scooped little Hyacinthe up into her arms. Hyacinthe brushed her cheek against Éponine's; there was the damp from both the kitten's little nose and the water that was still on her fur, smeared across Éponine's cheek. Éponine found she didn't mind.
"Why, what would you suggest?" she challenged her brother. "I suppose you want to call it – Napoleon, or something like that."
Gavroche looked aghast. "I would never call a cat Napoleon," he whispered, astounded that his sister would even make such a suggestion.
Éponine snorted. "Do you even know who Napoleon is?"
"Do you?" Gavroche shot back. His cheeks seemed to heat up at her questioning of his knowledge.
She shrugged. She knew, vaguely, who he was. Marius had known who he was, and she'd heard his name crop up at the meetings at the Café Musain. From what she'd gathered, Enjolras hadn't been very fond of Napoleon or something along those lines, and she was assuming Gavroche had picked up the disgust at the name from that.
The fact was, knowing who Napoleon was would never have kept Éponine alive on the streets so there was no need to understand what they were talking about.
She adjusted the kitten in her arms. "I think Hyacinthe is a perfectly acceptable name," she said. "It matches her eyes."
Gavroche's scowl only worsened. "It's a girly name."
"It's a girl cat," Éponine said with a roll of her eyes, and then Hyacinthe began to wriggle, desperately trying to escape Éponine's hold. "I think she wants to play," Éponine observed as the kitten began to swipe at Éponine's hand.
The scowl dropped from Gavroche's face to be replaced by a look of pure eagerness. "Can I conjure a ball or something?" he suggested.
"Of course," Éponine agreed. "But make sure it's small, she's only little."
The ball that Gavroche conjured was small indeed, red in colour, and seemed to send the kitten into throes of madness with how easily the ball flew across the wooden floorboards. The sight of Hyacinthe's prancing and rolling and swiping sent Gavroche into hysterics. But then the ball shot underneath the sofa and after watching Hyacinthe pace for a good five minutes waiting for the ball to return, Éponine gave in and conjured a ball of wool. She remembered her cat from Montfermeil had enjoyed playing with strings, even if you had to be careful they didn't swallow it.
Éponine showed Gavroche how to drag the string along the floor to make Hyacinthe follow it. Then she curled up on the sofa with one of her mystery books from the library, immersing herself in this other world whilst enjoying the rare, joyful sounds of her younger brother getting to behave like the child that he was, delighted over the kitten's playful antics.