Disclaimer: We don't own Les Misérables in any of its book, musical, or film incarnations.

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Université des Écrivains Misérables

By Bubonic Woodchuck, lokogato-sama, and Zorpisuttle

Chapter One: Patria Augusta Sparklymoon

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"Oh Patria Augusta Sparklymoon" said Enjarlas longignly "i love u so much."

"And i love u too Enjarlas" said Patria Augusta Sparlklymoon "lets ask the bishop of that one place 2 get us married!1"

"Ok" said Enjarlas "i will get married to u even htough that stupid Grantair person is still folloing me around"

"Ok" said Patria Augusta Sparklymoon and so they did. The end.

Chelsea Peterson clicked "Save," leaned back in her chair, and grinned. Another fic completed, she thought contentedly. She loved it when Enjolras got a happy ending. Victor Hugo was such an idiot for making Enjolras die, and she was quite sure her readers would share her sentiments.

Well, the readers that mattered would. All those jerks who babbled about canon were so totally nerds. What did they mean, Enjolras wasn't interested in women? Hugo had mentioned some Patria lady, right? She'd skipped that bit, really. Everything after that was so boring. Who cared about that stupid Jean Valjean guy anyway? Les Miswas all about Enjolras.

Chelsea got up and retrieved a beer from the refrigerator (her parents weren't home), whistling happily to herself. Soon she would be receiving a flood of reviews gushing about how well she wrote, she was sure of it. As she sat down, she looked at her fic again. Sure, it might have been a tad short, and perhaps she didn't know how to spell most of the words, but she didn't care. All that mattered was that Enjolras got the girl in the end.

Right?

"Wrong," said a voice from behind her.

Chelsea screamed, nearly spilling her beer, and spun around, eyes wide. "Who the –"

A man in what appeared to be some very old-fashioned clothing was carrying a rather large stack of paper and staring at Chelsea's monitor with a dubious expression on his face. "Well," he said, in a voice that didn't quite know whether to be incredulous or amused. "No wonder they wanted you to attend."

"Who wanted me to attend what?" demanded Chelsea. "And who are you, and what are you doing in my house! Get out before I call the police!"

"My name," said the man with more dignity than was strictly necessary (Chelsea began to suspect he was slightly inebriated), "is Grantaire – Monsieur Grantaire to you – and you are cordially invited to attend L'université des Écrivains Misérables by Mademoiselles Irene, Pelly, and Pathy." A pause. "You don't have an option, mind," he added, and dumped the stack of papers unceremoniously on Chelsea's desk.

Chelsea's mind was spinning. L'université… "Wait a minute, did you say Grantaire?" she said out loud. "As in the Grantaire from Les Mis?" Her voice was getting increasingly squeaky. If Grantaire was here, then – then that must mean Enjy was nearby!

He bowed. "Capitol and master of floral games at your service," he said sardonically. "Now, mademoiselle, if you'd kindly fill out the forms –"

"Wait," interrupted Chelsea, the rush of fangirl adrenaline decreasing slightly. "Forms for what?"

"You mean you haven't figured out yet?" asked Grantaire irritably. "Read the letter." He gestured impatiently at the stack of papers, and Chelsea realized that there was indeed a sealed piece of paper lying on top of the stack. She retrieved it, opened it up, and began to read.

Dear Miss Peterson:

We regret - well, not really - to inform you that due to the horrendous quality of your writing, you are requested to attend L'université des Écrivains Misérables, and will be forced to do so until your writing improves. Please fill out the enclosed forms and pack your things. Should you decide to ignore our request…well, we're quite sure you won't do that.

Sincerely,

Miss Irene and Management

"A university," Chelsea said confusedly.

"For authors like you," elaborated Grantaire. "Until you pass, I'm afraid you won't be allowed to write fanfiction."

"But –" squeaked Chelsea. "My fanfiction isn't horrendous!"

The look Grantaire gave her told her all that needed to be said. He patted the papers with one hand. "These are your enrollment papers. You needn't worry about sending them in. Your ride will arrive tomorrow morning. I trust I shall see you soon." And before Chelsea could say another word, he had vanished.

It took her another ten minutes to realize he'd filched the beer.

Chelsea opened her mouth, frowned, and closed it again. It was probably a good thing. The beer probably had something odd in it. She'd been seeing things, of course. She looked down – the papers were still there. She sighed.

A quick rummage through the papers revealed a list of courses. "Tormented Inner Monologues. Lecturers: Messieurs Valjean and Javert." "Canonical Pairings: Why They Work, How They Work, and How To Look At Them Without Wincing. Lecturers: Monsieur and Madame Pontmercy." "Musicalverse vs. Bookverse. Lecturer: Monsieur Bahorel." "Why We Hate The 1998 Movie. Lecturers: Monsieur Enjolras and Mademoiselle Thénardier."

Oh. Oh, my. Enjolras was teaching a class! If this was a dream (which it was, of course), then it was a very good dream. Chelsea seized the forms, grabbed a pen, and began to write with wild abandon.

Name: Chelsea Peterson

Age: 17

Gender (please circle one): Male / Female / Not Applicable / Both (if "Not Applicable" or "Both," please explain)

Chelsea blinked. That was a silly question. Female, of course.

Physical Description:

She paused, then grinned and scribbled, "a cascade of ebony hare and vibrent gold-fleked indigo eyes. six feet tall and not to skinny & not to fat."

Have you watched the musical? Yes

Have you read the book?

She paused. Well, she'd read the parts with Enjolras in. That had to be at least ninety percent of the book…right? She shrugged and wrote "Yes."

Have you watched the 1998 movie? No

Have you ever written a Mary-Sue? Patria is NOT a Mary-Sue!

Have you ever written slash? EW NO!

Lust Object(s) (maximum of two): Enjarlas!

Lusting: Obvious or Not-As-Obvious? Obvious

Any particular characters you hate? Why? I h8 Cosite shes so dumb not liek Eponen whos kewl

Favorite Pairing: Patria/Enjarlas Patrias my charcter shes kewl!

Why do you write Les Misérables fanfiction? Cuz Enjarlas is hott!

Have you read OFUM? No

Fear of the Following (mark all that apply): Javert / The Brick / Angry Revolutionaries / Rats / Gamins / Corsets / Victor Hugo / None of the above

Chelsea blinked. Why would she be afraid of angry revolutionaries? They were so sexy! Javert was just a creepy old man who wasn't as hot as Enjolras. And what was so scary about a brick? Granted, she was a little afraid of rats, but gamins were cute and corsets couldn't really be so bad if they made you look skinny, right? And Victor Hugo was just a creepy old man too. She circled "Rats."

Quickly she filled out the rest of the forms. It was one in the morning when she'd finished, and she suddenly remembered that she'd have school in less than six hours. Muttering obscenities, she left the papers on her desk, turned off the lights, and flopped onto her bed, exhausted. She failed to notice that the forms vanished as soon as she turned her back. In a matter of seconds, Chelsea was fast asleep.

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Back Room, Corinth Wineshop, Paris, France

"Ireny, we've got another one."

The course coordinator of UDEM looked up from a pile of application forms. Miss Pelly, co-coordinator and mini-Brick trainer, stood in the doorway. She held what appeared to be a squirming book with hundreds of little feet and a mouth. Miss Irene pulled a face and stood up, pausing briefly to remove a dozing, bespectacled ferret from her shoulder before making her way over to Miss Pelly.

"Another one, is it?" she remarked. "What's its name?"

Miss Pelly grimaced. "Enjarlas."

"Enjarlas…?" Miss Irene blinked. "How do you – how do they – do they even bother to check –"

"Of course not," said a voice. Mistress Pathy's head appeared above Miss Pelly's in the doorway. "That's why they're coming here," she added, grinning. There was, as usual, something rather unnerving in the grin.

"But Enjarlas," said Miss Irene, looking down at the still-squirming book as the two co-coordinators entered the room. "If Enjolras gets wind of this one –"

"Gets wind of what?" interrupted a voice as the Narrative Laws of Comedy kicked in and the revolutionary leader himself marched in. His gaze fell on the mini-Brick. "Oh."

"Yep," said Miss Pelly cheerfully, and promptly deposited the book in Enjolras's arms. "His name is Enjarlas. He's yours now."

Enjolras blinked at the mini-Brick, which took no notice of him. "I have ten already."

"And there will no doubt be more," said Miss Irene. "Orientation Week starts in –" she checked her watch – "oh, twenty-seven hours or so, and then the fangirls will start pouring in."

"And everyone knows that you're the Legolas of the Les Mis continuum," said Mistress Pathy. "A few bodyguards never hurt."

Enjolras directed Glares at the coordinators. "Don't remind me," he muttered and exited the back room, the mini-Brick still in his arms.

Miss Irene grinned as she seated herself again and resumed going over applications. The ferret yawned and crawled back onto her shoulder. "You should see some of the spelling in these applications, Pathy," Miss Irene said mournfully. "On the other hand, maybe not. It might make you spontaneously combust. 'S making me twitch myself."

A grin that radiated pure evil from Mistress Pathy. "That's what GrammarBootCamp is for."

"And Mme. Houcheloup's cooking," added Miss Pelly.

"Definitely Mme. Houcheloup's cooking."

"Gives a whole new meaning to 'Learning Through Pain.'"

The maniacal laughter lasted long into the night.

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A Note from the Staff: Registration for UDEM is now open. Due to the website's policy on interactive stories, applications through reviews WILL NOT BE ACCEPTED. Kindly copy and paste the following form, fill it out, and e-mail it to us at lesmisofu(at)gmail(dot)com. Creativity is encouraged. Registration closes June 13, 2005.

Name:

Age:

Gender (please circle one): Male / Female / Not Applicable / Both (if "Not Applicable" or "Both," please explain)

Physical Description:

Have you watched the musical?

Have you read the book?

Have you watched the 1998 movie?

Have you ever written a Mary-Sue?

Have you ever written slash?

Les Mis Lust Object(s) (maximum of two):

Lusting: Obvious or Not-As-Obvious?

Any particular characters you hate? Why?

Favorite Pairing:

Why do you write Les Misérables fanfiction?

Have you read OFUM?

Fear of the Following (mark all that apply): Javert / The Brick / Angry Revolutionaries / Rats / Gamins / Corsets / Victor Hugo / None of the above

Thank you in advance for registering.

Miss Irene, Miss Pelly, and Mistress Pathy