Work Text:
Jehan isn't expecting the applause.
So when the Sorting Hat (lovely old thing, really) screams ‘Gryffindor!’ to the hall and the table to the far left literally bursts with cheers and claps he double-takes so hard he nearly falls off the stool.
Cheeks red, eyes down, he hurries to the table before he can fall over, or anything else traditionally Jehan-like.
Out of the corner of his eye he spots a harmless looking boy sitting at the very corner of the table alone, staring at his plate and he recognises himself...painfully shy.
“Do you mind if I sit here?”
The boy jerks up guiltily and stares into Jehan’s eyes worriedly before he smiles nervously, gesturing to the seat next to him. He slips into it thankfully and looks to his neighbour.
“I’m Jean Prouvaire. Well, actually, Jehan, and please don’t call me Jean, I don’t know why I introduced myself like that –”
The boy seems to chirp up a bit and grins properly, offering a hand shyly. Jehan flicks his plait over his shoulder and takes it.
“My name’s Joly. It’s nice to meet you.”
Jehan smiles back and his fringe flops into his eyes. He grunts and reaches up his hand to fix it back into place but he’s interrupted by a couple of boys settling down on the bench opposite them, who don’t seem to be worried at all by getting into a strange house after leaving their parents. He looks over to them and offers a shy wave when one of them looks at him, eyebrows raised.
Joly coughs next to him, and immediately slaps his hands across his mouth. Jehan looks at him, alarmed, and Joly looks equally terrified.
“Are you okay?”
“I coughed! Oh my goodness, I could be coming down with any number of diseases, or the flu, or TB, or - ”
Jehan giggles discreetly, and gets a sideways glare from Joly that at first he thinks is faked but as he looks at his narrowed eyes he isn’t so sure. From across the table he sees the boy he waved at look at them strangely and he glances away, nervously, to Joly raising his eyebrows. He flushes even darker and stares fixedly at his plate for most of the meal.
***
After the meal is over, he and Joly follow the Prefect (who is a fifth year and looks very tall and imposing) down about a million corridors, tripping over statues and other people, Joly patiently catching him everytime.
Without warning (actually he’s pretty sure it moved) a suit of armour is suddenly in his path, and he stops abruptly, only to be hit from behind.
“Sorry! I’m really sorry, God, I didn’t mean to...”
Jehan’s words die in his throat when he sees who he just inadvertently bumped, looking up...and up, and up. Luckily when he finally sees the face, it’s smiling.
“Hey, don’t worry, ‘s okay. I’m Bahorel.”
Jehan finds himself shaking hands again, only to be yanked forward by Joly, who seems to have kept walking while Jehan stumbled (he’s used to it already, wow).
“Come on, Jehan, what are you doing? We’re going to get left behind...”
It’s Joly’s turn to look up in surprise at the newcomer, but he just grins and holds out his hand.
“Joly. Hi!”
Jehan feels like, maybe this time he belongs somewhere.
Until he turns around and the boy from across the table is staring at him again but he runs off before Jehan can react (well, react better than turning a ridiculous shade of red)
***
Courfeyrac couldn’t be any happier, really.
He’s already made a friend, and he can see Combeferre being a best friend and even though he knows he sounds like a girl he doesn’t care because this is a big school and he’s not sure he’s going to be able to survive alone.
“Oy, Courf, shall we sit here? There’s loads of spare seats!”
Combeferre plonks himself down near the end of the row, opposite two other first years who seem to be introducing themselves, so Courf slides into the seat next to him, waiting for the Sorting to end. He looks up to the other side of the table just as a boy flips his fringe out of his eyes, and Courfeyrac’s eyes are drawn to the motion, staring at his braid (are they...are they flowers?)
Suddenly the boy looks up and meets his eyes, so Courfeyrac grins, only to be met with the cutest wave.
“So, anyway, Courfeyrac, are you even listening to me? Yeah, I can’t wait to start Charms, I heard Professor Flitwick’s a really –”
Courfeyrac’s tuned out, but he nods every so often so Combeferre thinks he’s listening.
“ – or TB or something –”
Courfeyrac’s head whips round so fast it hurts, and he’s pretty sure he’s wearing a confused look but right now he just wants to see the boy with the plait giggle, but he meets his eyes once again and looks away just as quickly.
***
After the meal, Courfeyrac and Combeferre follow the crowd following the Prefect up to their dorms, and get ready for bed in the dorms, seeing some of the other boys already there.
“See you tomorrow, Combeferre.”
“Sweet dreams, Courf!”
***
In the morning, Jehan is awoken early by Joly, who looks far too awake for half past six in the morning, jeez, but he gets up anyway, throwing on his favourite lilac shirt and floral jeans and robe over the top, grabbing his wand before he leaves.
He rushes (well, trips) down the stairs and nearly lands on a girl, who has him up against the wall with her arm at his throat within two seconds flat. His eyes bug out and he looks frantically at Joly, who can’t stop laughing.
“I...can you get off?” he croaks, and the girl looks embarrassed before jumping away.
“I’m so sorry! Force of habit, you can never be too careful...I’m Eponine, by the way.”
Jehan massages his neck for a couple of seconds, wincing, but shoves his hand out anyway.
“Jean Prouvaire, but I’ll only answer to Jehan, thank you very much.”
She giggles at him and finally Joly steps forward.
“I’m Joly, I’m Jehan’s friend.”
She seizes his hand too and pumps it vigorously.
“I’m so glad to have met people, I spent ages worrying about everything, but to be honest I was so glad to get away from my parents I didn’t really care where I was going!”
Joly and Jehan exchange a quick shocked glance before she drags them off to breakfast, grabbing the boy Jehan bumped into yesterday (Bahorel?) on the way.
“Come on, we need fuelling before Transfiguration!”
Jehan and Bahorel nearly fall over each other again as Eponine pulls them along and laugh when they meet each other’s eyes. Jehan feels like part of a group here.
***
Courfeyrac and Combeferre go down to breakfast leisurely, feeling much better than yesterday (well, Courfeyrac was).
They go to Transfiguration together, and manage somehow to find their way first time, high-fiving each other when they find the classroom.
They’re sufficiently impressed by Professor McGonagall, and Courfeyrac drops into a window seat, Combeferre behind him.
A blond boy meets Courfeyrac’s eye, so he smiles confidently.
“Um, hi...can I sit here?”
Courfeyrac sits up quickly and nods excitedly, and thinks that yeah, he won’t have trouble making friends here.
***
Fast forward three years: it’s fourth year, and Jehan, Joly, Grantaire, Bahorel and Eponine are sitting outside in their favourite spot by the Lake.
“So, Jehan, truth or dare?”
Jehan groans at Eponine, who is renowned for picking the worst questions and dares she possibly can, and frowns.
“Truth.”
Eponine grins slyly, uncurling her legs and laying flat on the ground.
“Who do you liiiiike?”
Grantaire laughs loudly, and Joly just looks back at his book, sighing, but with a grin on his face. Bahorel waggles his eyebrows at Jehan, who blushes furiously.
“I...uh...nobody?”
Eponine sits up abruptly.
“No way, Prouvaire. You are telling us now.”
“Uhm.”
His voice breaks off and he looks at the ground, flushing again.
“...Courf?”
His whisper is so quiet that all of them lean forward, even Joly, who’s supposed to be studying.
“Speak up, Prouvaire!”
“What was that?”
“Come on, who do you think we are?”
“COURFEYRAC!”
Everyone sits back in stunned silence as Jehan buries his face in his hands, and to his utter mortification he hears a whistle.
“Did I hear my name?”
Of course, it’s Courf. Jehan’s luck meant it couldn’t be anyone else. Eponine panics and gestures for him to go away again.
“It doesn’t matter, Courf, he was just talking about his Potions partner.”
Courfeyrac nods, lifts one shoulder, and moves on (to find Enjolras maybe?) . As soon as he’s gone, the others crowd round Jehan and offer various encouragements and exclamations.
“You would make the best couple!”
***
Another year forward and it’s fifth year, Courfeyrac’s sitting with his friends when he realises that yep, Enjolras really is unsociable enough to not talk to the others in our year and announces that they have to go find them!
He says find to be polite...he knows exactly where they are. In fact, ever since the start of third year he’s been trying to keep track of the other Gryffindors in their year (and it’s easy enough to see Jehan’s flowery braid) just in case.
“Come on, Enjy!” he crows, dragging his friends down to the trees by the Lake and presenting the others.
“We have come to join you!”
Eponine’s head whips round, and she sees Marius and goes a ridiculous shade of red, even though he’s totally oblivious. Joly and Jehan seem to be playing some kind of clapping game when they arrive, although Joly stops quickly and fiddles with his hair, pointedly not looking at Bossuet. Courfeyrac raises his eyebrows but pretends not to notice, focusing on Enjolras.
“We decided it was too sad that Enjolras still doesn’t really talk to anybody except our group and for classes, so we should be friends!”
Grantaire leaps up in one bound.
“Aha, Apollo! You have come to walk amongst us mere mortals again!”
Enjolras looks halfway between amused and confused, but Eponine rolls her eyes and stage-whispers; “Grantaire’s been reading Jehan’s poetry again.”
Now it’s Courfeyrac’s turn to whip round in surprise.
“Jehan’s...poetry?”
Joly scoffs.
“Really? I thought everybody knew about that! He’s been writing and reading and breathing poetry since about...I don’t know...third year? He’ll probably recite you some if yo – ouch, Jehan! What are you...oh.”
Courfeyrac looks incredulously at Jehan, who, sure enough, has his smudged writing on his cuffs and all over the notebook that has been dropped on the grass. He reaches for it without thinking, but pulls back.
“Sorry – do you mind?”
Jehan looks flustered and nods, gesturing at the book.
“No, that’s – that’s fine. That one’s just the one I use to copy out other poems really.”
As Courfeyrac flips through the pages, he can smell the book – it’s floral and parchmenty and inky and wonderful.
***
Seventh year.
Finally.
Grantaire and Enjolras have been a thing for a year now, and everyone’s sort of got used to their constant petty arguments and raised voices and ridiculous amount of PDA but Eponine’s still waiting for Jehan to get his shit together.
“Come on, Prouvaire, seriously? You’ve been pining after him since fourth year, or maybe before that, I don’t know, and there’s still nothing between you? I swear, even Pontmercy moves faster than you!”
Jehan just waves her off, his braid flopping into his face. He huffs in exasperation but another hand gets there before him and he jerks back in surprise as Courfeyrac comes into view.
“I...hi, Courf!”
Eponine makes a quiet excuse and vanishes somewhere, he’s not sure where, but to be honest he really couldn’t care right now.
“Would you come talk to me for a minute?”
Jehan makes the mistake of looking into Courfeyrac’s eyes, just for a second, and nods absently, allowing himself to be pulled up and taken outside by the Lake (it’s still their favourite hangout, after all).
“So, I...”
Courfeyrac actually looks nervous. Jehan thinks it’s the first time he’s ever seen that, and he thinks he looks sort of stunning, actually, more like a painting than real life, with the wind in his curls and the sunset at the lake.
“Courf, I’m in love with you.”
Jehan cuts across whatever Courfeyrac is saying and then gasps, throws both hands over his mouth and backs away a couple of steps.
“I’m so sorry...that wasn’t meant to just come out like that...I wasn’t...”
To his utter surprise, Courf is still there. And not only there, he looks...happy? He looks ecstatic, in fact. Jehan looks at him worriedly.
“Courf –”
But Jehan’s words are cut off when Courfeyrac steps nearer to him again and brushes a soft kiss to his lips. His eyes flicker shut without him consciously realising and he leans in, pushing back against Courf, reacting to him.
Courfeyrac pulls away slowly and Jehan follows a couple inches before realising that yeah, he probably looks like a five year old right now so he stops, flushing.
Jehan knows he probably looks completely mental, bright red with his plait completely loosened and his shirt untucked, but he couldn’t care less.
When Courfeyrac smiled like that, nothing else was even important, and he leaned in again, smiling into Courf’s kiss.