Frères et Sœurs (Elenore & Jacques)

The hush that engulfed the Palace for most of the summer had been horrible for the family, and even as one month passed and the family could start moving forwards with their lives again with muted enthusiasm, it had felt like a life time for Jacques. There had been so many things he'd wanted to do over the summer with both the business of the Palace, and with his friends in France, it had been quite the shock to come home and find these things would not be happening. Jacques had understood why his parents had kept the secret, though, in fact he was somewhat grateful to not have had the worry upon his shoulders through his final exams.

But, even with such tragedy hitting the Palace, it didn't mean that life stopped.

Jacques had accompanied his father to many meetings which dealt with the manner in which they would be moving forth from the ICWW Summit, how they would be implementing the changes, and through all of it, the transitions in France had begun. Laws were changing in both the Muggle and Magical worlds, the Ministry were moving forth to make arrangements with the Muggle Prime Minister of France, and though the Clements had never been overly discrete with their magical ancestry they would be 'coming out' to France for who they were. All of this took time, and Jacques had been working with the technological team on his father's behalf to ensure that this side of the transition was just as smooth.

But it was as the mourning period ended that Jacques had grown concerned with matters closer to home. Elenore had made Jacques feel a little upset with her actions after their Grandpere's death, but the young man had written it off to grief of his sister's, and then to the grief of their Grandmere drawing Elenore in to hiding in the older witch's withdrawing room for most of the summer so far. He'd excused her behaviour for compassion, and he had kindly let it go.

He just hadn't forgotten.

It was as Jacques had sat for lunch with his Maman one day in early July that she had confided in him Elenore's next trivial act. Papa had been out on business on his own that afternoon, allowing Jacques time with his Maman, something that, perhaps, both parties had needed. Maman had gently lowered her cutlery during the luncheon, and Jacques' hands had slowed seeing his Maman stopping eating only half way through the meal. A gentle touch of a frown had creased the young man's features, wondering if she hadn't liked the food, or was perhaps feeling under the weather. Jacques had been wrong, though, quite terribly wrong, he had found only a moment later when Maman had explained that Elenore had expressed a wish to travel to America to study.

It was not a question of Elenore's decision to study that had made his Maman act in this manner, though, it was the country in which she'd chosen to do so. It was clear in his Maman's features that this troubled her greatly, and it needed no further words from the Lady Clement for Jacques to place down his knife and reach to take his Maman's hand.

"Je vais lui parler." Jacques had promised his Maman, earning a small smile from her. "Tu n'as pas à t'inquiéter, Maman." He'd insisted, because there really wasn't a need to worry, surely Elenore's decision had been based off of wrong decisions. She couldn't really wish to spend her university years somewhere as barbaric as America, could she?

With the promise made, the two had returned to their conversations on other topics. After all, such things didn't need to be discussed.

There was no way Elenore would really be going to America.


The morning had come through with a lower level of heat than the country was expecting in July, bringing more and more people out of their homes to enjoy a day where it didn't feel like you were roasting out of your skin the moment you left a room with air conditioning. Many more people had taken to the streets today, and on this morning, Elenore Clement had been one of those people, too. Though the witch had chosen against heading in to Paris, she had simply gone down to the stables, collected her favourite white mare from the stable hands, and set off gently in to the Palace gardens with little and less haste.

Smiling to himself behind the window pane of his bedroom, Jacques had hurriedly changed in to his own riding attire and apparated down in to the main foyer -- hoping to Merlin his Maman wasn't around to see that choice -- before quickly sliding out in to the grounds. The walk to the stables felt too long that morning, but as Jacques turned in to the stables, he found exactly the man he needed.

"Thomas!" Jacques greeted warmly, feeling guilty a moment later as the stable hand jumped and dropped the hammer he was using to rectify a horse shoe that must have come loose from one of the many held in the stables.

"M'lord. I'm sorry, I didn't see you coming, shall I ready your horse?" Thomas asked, snatching his hat away from his head in respect for the Clement heir.

"Merci," Jacques replied, watching the man hurry off to collect the black mare Jacques had taken a shine to in recent years. Thomas was an amusing young man, younger than Jacques by a couple of years, and employed by the family only last spring, the boy had made quite the initial first impression with the future Lord Clement.

"Pretty, isn't she?" The stable hand had asked, hearing footsteps behind him and assuming his partner, Mathis, his eyes following the white mare that had left with the young Elenore Clement atop it only moments before. He'd been working for the Clements for three months now, but this was the first time the young Lady Clement had visited the stables. She had been at Hogwarts when Thomas had first come in to his job, and then there had been mention of the witch going to Italy with her brother. Now, though, Elenore Clement was home, and Thomas was a man who could appreciate the beauty of the witch before him.

"I couldn't say myself." Jacques had replied to the question, and Thomas had hurriedly stood up straight from his position leaning against the stable doors, spinning to see the eldest Clement instead of his colleague. Taking off the cap he was wearing, the younger male had tried to make amends.

"I'm sorry, M'Lord, I didn't mean any offence. I was only. I just... I'm really sorry M'Lord, I didn't know it was you."

Jacques had held his hand up to show that the man could stop his apologising and moved closer to the newest employ of the Palace stables. "What's your name?" The Clement heir had asked, his tone calm but clear in it's authority.

"Thomas," the stable hand had replied, and Jacques noted how the name had been said in that moment. Unlike the Clement's who had stuck with the English pronunciation of the name Thomas, the man before him was of a family who pronounced it in the French manner, losing the s at the end of the name. "My mam' always loved your family, so decided to name me after your Grandpere, M'Lord. I wasn't meaning any harm with my comment, I swear it, M'Lord."

Jacques moved closer to the stable hand in that moment, looking out after his sister, and not the man beside him who looked very unsure as to whether he was safe in that moment, whether he was about to lose his job, or about to be pulled in front of the Lord and Lady Clement for what he'd said.

"I don't believe you meant harm, Thomas," Jacques replied to the boy, he'd heard far worse in his time at University, but that didn't mean that it was okay to be said. "But, my sister is a Lady, a Clement Lady, and that means you will always treat her with the respect she deserves."

"M'Lord, I will." Thomas had replied, dipping his head in thanks, almost ready to hurry off.

"And Thomas?"

"Yes, M'Lord?"

"If I should hear of any comment made by you about my sister again, or any of the Clement women..."

"I understand M'Lord."

"But Thomas?"

"Y-Yes, M-Lord?"

"My sister isn't 'pretty', shes one of the four most beautiful witches in all of France. Don't disrespect her with simply believing her to be pretty." Jacques had corrected, watching Thomas with a serious expression for a moment, before smiling to show that it was okay to think it, but it was never to be said aloud again. With that, Thomas had nodded, giving a small uncertain smile back to the future Lord Clement, and hurrying to collect his horse instead.

"Your horse, M'Lord." Thomas interrupted the memory, holding the onyx horse steady.

"Thank you, Thomas." Jacques replied, hoisting himself up effortlessly before pulling on his riding gloves. "Did Lady Elenore say where she was going, by chance?"

"No, M'Lord," Thomas replied, handing Jacques his helmet and stepping back from the horse. With the helmet in place, Jacques kicked the mare forth and hurried out of the stables in the direction his sister had gone at a canter, hoping to catch up the time he'd wasted already.

It took half an hour to find Elenore, gently trotting alongside the Grand Canal, but Jacques slowed off in to a light trot as he caught up.

"Elenore," he greeted softly of his sister, giving her a warm smile.

"Jacques," the witch replied softly, though her eyes rested upon the water rather than her brother in that moment.

"May I ride with you?"

There was a pause after Jacques' question, but eventually Elenore replied.

"If you would like to."

For a few moments, Jacques stayed quiet, keeping pace with his sister's horse, and taking in the witch beside him. She had grown up so much since Christmas, Jacques didn't believe it to be real, but there was no denying that Elenore was still there, underneath everything else that had changed. He would have to tread lightly with the person beside him, not spook her in to a defensive nature.

"Race you to Les Grands Closeaux?" Jacques asked, watching his sister's head turn to him with curiosity for a moment.

"You will never win!" Elenore insisted, both of them knowing she was the fairer rider.

"Vraiment?" Jacques shot back, but Elenore was quicker, and she had spurred her own mare in to action quicker than he could have. Tightening his grip on the rains, Jacques urged his own steed forwards, letting out a soft laugh to himself as he shot off after his sister through the Palace gardens.

Perhaps, Jacques thought to himself, she hasn't changed completely...