Thomas stepped back on to the dirt path, eyes cast over his shoulder in a moment of uncertainty. The sound of boots crunching into the leaves, twigs, and squishing through mud muffled the loud thoughts in his head.

His mother’s letter sounded disappointed. Another first date for the books. Better yet, it was better if it didn’t get remembered. At least she had Juliette and the youngest male Vaillancourt. Thomas... he had more important things than relationships to occupy his time.

His craft, after all, consumed most of his free time. The need to know everything about it was overwhelming at times.

There were the occasional nutters one could easily pick out at a wand gathering. Thomas, having kept his madness under wraps, would instead soak up whatever he could, like a new flower eager for the sun. When he stepped away from work, he felt anxious. It was important to continue to assimilate with society, however. He enjoyed time with friends. It would just be difficult to choose between them and work.

Goofing off allowed him time to get away from the pressures of his career. Friends had long since learned not to ask about work, unless they felt like partaking in a lecture about different wood grains. And boy, did Thomas enjoy talking about that. And different cores, or some theories as to why the wand chooses the wizard.

Hands were buried deep in his trousers, robes swishing with each step, softly, comforting with their methodic movement. The trees started to think out as Thomas neared the small town his uncle’s shop was based out of. It was an old wizarding town, well worn in and full of people who knew each other for generations.

A hand slipped out, fingertips brushing along a stone fence as he passed. A fleeting gesture.

Voices penetrated the fog of his brain - Thomas blinked lazily before turning his head, focusing on the person attempting to greet him. A moment passed before Thomas gave him a small smile. “Bonjour Jean.”

“If I’d been a doxy, I would have bitten you!” Thomas chuckled at the older man’s words. Thomas was a wizard to behold when he had his mind in one place. Distracted, however, often made Thomas worse than a first year. “Ah, yes, you know me. Always stuck somewhere else.” He tapped his forehead before shaking his head.

After a few minutes of chatting, Thomas feigned work restraints and walked away with a friendly wave of goodbye.

Instead of heading back to the shop, however, Thomas turned down a street and stopped at one of the local bakeries. After enjoying a croissant and cup of coffee (with its fair amount of sugar and cream), he continued on his way. The shop was only another street over.

A friendly, soft bell could be heard jingling as Thomas stepped inside. His scarf was wound off first, followed quickly by his thicker outer robes. Boots were quickly untied and left near the front, replaced for comfortable suede shoes while walking around the shop.

He left the chill of the entry way as he stepped in to the shop. Hands rubbed eagerly together before he moved to the half circle of a ‘cashier’ desk. Within a half hour, the shop had been dusted and swept - magic really was amazing. Instead of putting his wand away, Thomas twirled it absentmindedly, weaving it between his fingers like a well-practiced art.

Thomas made his way towards the back, a key slipping out of a pocket of his light robes. The storage rooms were next to his uncle’s office of bookkeeping. File cabinets were wonderfully dangerous when the wrong charm was set off, and so Thomas kept his distance for today. The soft sound of snoring could be heard faintly through the wall.

A wand box here, another there, was pulled from the back shelves before Thomas, arms full, walked precariously back out to the shop. Once it was all set down on the desk up front, Thomas settled on to his stool before pulling ribbon to himself. The wand was used to charm the ribbon into neat, small bows. The lime green ribbon shone brilliantly against the royal blue. Inside, wands were nestled in white satin, giving them a place to rest before a lifetime of servitude.

The bell rang, echoing softly towards him. Thomas frowned as he set the lid back over the wand, focused as his voice spoke out, slightly distracted. “Bonjour.”

The wind whistled loudly through the high wintery skies above rural France. There was little fight to dominance within the skies; no birds of prey or commercial airlines to share the space with. Even the wind seemed to be cheering the young wizard on as his Firebolt flew mercilessly through the air. The chill was almost unbearable, but he’d at least thrown a pair of riding gloves on before taking to the air.

Mathieu had been held up in the UK for far too long; Quidditch practice was grueling and sometimes when the youngest Vaillancourt dismounted from his broom, he could barely walk. Even so, nothing could dim his passion for the air. Even through the air, one shouldn’t just go to France without proper protection, and Mathieu’s cloak, thrown hastily over his jeans, was hardly sufficient.

Thankfully, it was time for the descent. He tilted slightly down on his broom and landed nimbly (and numbly) upon the front steps to his middle brother’s shop. The tinkling of a bell hailed the boy’s arrival and he ran his free hand through his windswept blonde locks. Slung unceremoniously over Mathieu’s opposite shoulder rode his broomstick.

“Bonjour, mon frčre,”[1] He called merrily through the shop, laying his broomstick causally upon the wall next to his brother’s shoes. He’d always enjoyed wandshops, they reminded Mathieu of broom shops: the smell of wood, the sense of magic, not to mention the outrageous prices.

1.	Hello, my brother

In short truth, finding herself in the middle of France surprised Erin.  The photo shoot was supposed to have a taken place in Wizarding Paris, but the photographer had a bout of inspiration.  5 portkeys later, they had finally found something that could 'speak to his inner artist'.  For once, Erin's ADD was actually useful.  Since she had to move anyways, it was kind of easy to herd her in the right direction.  Her mother was taking care of something with one of the tailors, but the wizarding cameras, reflectors, and a portable wardrobe were all in Erin's immediate proximity. 

Erin thought the place was kind of nice.  The sky was clear, and the French winter was less harsh than its English counterpart.  That said, Erin did not speak a word of French, and for once was actually looking forward to heading home. 

"Wait, Miss Dark - put this on" someone handed her a huge dress.  Erin knew that she would wear this first before working her way through the catalog.  Unfortunately for Erin, the crew had forgotten that she needed a changing room, and it would be hard to find one in the middle of rural France.  No one had the foresight to pack a magic tent or equivalent.  Erin had no desire to show the world herself au naturel. 

"I need someplace to change," she declared. 

She began to look for the aforementioned place.  The staff quickly realized her predicament, and wandered to various places to see what they could manage.   Though she was currently wearing a plane black robe,  she carried the elaborate dress with her and  somehow wondered into a wand shop. 

"Um...am I supposed to change in here?  - oh hey wands!" Erin asked in English,  not really expecting an answer.  In her absent-mindedness, she had already forgot what she was supposed to be doing, and became distracted by the store's merchandise.  Though, somehow she still managed to carry the elaborate dress neatly in one arm while browsing stock. 
 

The familiar voice forced Thomas’ hands to stop, eyebrows shooting up as his head glanced towards the entryway. A smile forced its way to his lips before the box was sat on the counter. “Salut, Mathieu.” His younger brother’s voice was unmistakable, as was his ego. There had been a handful of times he’d stopped in at Juliette’s flat to crash while visiting Paris, and found the comfortable couch already formed to another.

Thomas loved his family. He did, honest. But boys will be boys, and siblings will argue until they are old and gray.

Stepping out from behind the desk, Thomas moved to greet his brother, giving him a hug before patting him on the shoulder. The French slipped off his tongue, inviting him in. “Come in, take a seat.” Just because Mathieu had stolen the couch from him didn’t mean they had had much time to catch up recently. His eyes swept over the broomstick before walking back through the doorway and into the shop. “How was the flight?”

With his wand in his hand, he waved a few more logs onto the fire. A bottle of wine was brought out from under the counter, along with a couple of glasses. He’d brought a baguette back form the bakery; it would have to do for now. “Uncle Severin is enjoying a break, but... you must stay for dinner, yes?”

Come to think of it... why was Mathieu here? Suddenly Thomas tilted his head, suspicion etched into his eyes as they narrowed at his troublesome brother. “Or the night. We could make a trip of the local tavern.” The spiced wine there was second to none, in Thomas’ opinion.

The ring of the front bell echoed once more, and Thomas’ eyebrows rose again. Had Mathieu brought more than himself? Turning towards the entrance, Thomas was momentarily put off when he saw the young woman enter. She was much too young (he hoped) for Mathieu...

“Um...am I supposed to change in here?”

English was easy enough for the Vaillancourt siblings. Living in England had helped. Thomas did not often expect to hear it in the wandshop, however. Most who visited knew enough French to get by in their purchases. It took him only a moment to focus on English, and his French accent punctuated the air. “Mademoiselle... May I help you?” He left Mathieu to the wine and baguette (and the warm, growing fire) as he stepped towards the young woman. Eyes glanced around - no parent in sight, yet.

Mathieu was almost surprised to hear his brother’s tongue switch so easily to English. He was glad, in a way, to hear English instead of French. Though Mathieu was fluent in both English and French, he preferred the tongue of the British. Mathieu, unlike his elder siblings, hadn’t spent much time in France, other than schooling, and everyone knew that Mathieu despised school. “Cold,” he replied good-naturedly.

The youngest Vaillancourt moved in swiftly to stand before the roaring fireplace. Mathieu declined the offer for a seat with the smallest shake of his head. At least for now, he needed to get warm. He watched the tone in Thomas’s eyes change from curious to suspicious – funny how you can tell even subconscious emotions from your family. Would Thomas and Mathieu ever truly get along? Time would tell.

He was about to reply that it was only a quick visit, before heading back to Juliette’s flat, when a thought struck him. Perhaps he’d stay with his older brother tonight. If Severin (who Mathieu never really liked) truly was away, maybe Thomas needed a good night out. Mathieu always thought that his brother was a bit too uptight, always working too hard. Before he could speak up, the bell tinkled and a rather pretty lady stepped into the shop.

Either she was a hag, experimenting with aging and beautifying potions, or she was much too young to be out in rural France and not in school. The English confirmed his suspicions that she wasn’t even a Beauxbatons student, and Thomas swept away to take care of the lass. With a slight shrug, Mathieu poured himself a glass of wine and took a slice of the baguette, warming his backside in the fire. He could wait, not like there was anything else going on in his life.

(((OOC: I'm making the assumption that Erin cannot see M. Vaillancourt.  If Erin should have interacted with him somehow, please let me know)))

“Mademoiselle... May I help you?”

"Oh- French.  I should have thought of that.  I honestly forgot what country I was in," Erin thought aloud in English, not really paying attention to how ditzy that made her sound.  Erin knew a little French.  She could  order food and ask for basic directions, but anything too advanced would leave the youngest Dark too perplexed to be useful.  Not that she was much use in a conversation anyways, but foreign language did not help her communicate.  Debating whether or not she should reply in French or not, Erin opted to simply keep the conversation in English. 

Unfortunately for Erin, her ADD was beginning to take over and she needed to amuse herself.   The only thing Erin readily had available to play with was a ridiculously large dress.  While she playing with the dress, she remembered that she should be working.  Inwardly, Erin grimaced.  She did not like the fact that they had to change venues five times before actually getting to work.  Realizing there was nothing she could do about it though, she simply voiced her concerns, "I have the distinct feeling I'm supposed to be elsewhere.  Um, is there anywhere nearby I could change?  I'm supposed to do a photoshoot with this and a number of other garments.  Come to think of it, where is everybody?"

Though ditzy, Erin knew that more people should be present.  The photographer, tailors, and everyone else seemed to be missing except some gentleman who greeted her.  However, she had never met the man who spoke to her.  Erin probably would have elaborated at this point except she was distracted, this time realizing that she was messing with the dress.  Quickly coming to her senses, she folded it back up as neatly as she could, and began fidgeting from one foot to another.  Erin could not stay still in class, and the wandshop booked no exception.

French words responded quickly to Mathieu. Obviously it was cold in December! “I can only imagine.” Where the two younger Vaillancourt siblings enjoyed most of their childhood in England, Thomas had split it between France and ‘home.’ He was used to speaking in French, with work where it was.

Still... He did find he could express himself more vividly using both languages.

The rarity of finding an English speaker in wizarding France wasn’t as rare as it used to be, but they generally spoke the native tongue when with him. Thomas frowned as the girl rattled on; had she taken a wrong portkey home for the holidays? Come to think of it... was it time for the holidays? Had Juliette made it back to Paris yet?

“I have the distinct feeling I’m supposed to be elsewhere.”

Thomas wasn’t the only one, then. Resting his hands on his hips, he waited as she asked her questions.  He kept his tongue in check, responding to her in English. “Well... You’re in a wandshop. I don’t know who ‘everybody’ is, but I’m sure they’re looking for you as well.” He was trying his best to not patronize her. Thomas was attempting to be nice, giving her a friendly smile as he considered the options.

Who does a photoshoot in France with an English speaking, Hogwarts age girl during term? Still... “You’re not in danger, are you?” Calling an Auror to the shop was the last thing Thomas wanted to do.

Finally, however, he turned and glanced at his brother, feeling a bit out of his element. Girls were not his forte. “There’s a small washroom for customers in the back. Or the shop next door has actual changing rooms.” Next door was a robes shop, after all. Having a glass of wine and relaxing by the fire sounded loads better than trying to figure this out.

Mathieu watched with a twinkle of amusement evident on his features as his brother floundered through a conversation with the young lass. Letting out a hearty chuckle, he placed the hunk of bread back upon the table and dusted his hands free of crumbs on the leg of his pants. When it came to people, it was obvious of the two who was more personable. Give Thomas a hermit that hasn’t seen the outside in years, and he’d be right in his element… but give him a young girl and he’s lost.

With his glass of wine still in hand, Mathieu walked around to where the two stood. Both looked extremely awkward, and the qudditch player let out another short laugh before patting his brother on the back. “Mademoiselle, please forgive my brother’s indelicacies. I’m afraid he isn’t used to fashionable women taking refuge in his shop.” He gave them both a playful wink.

“Of course, he is correct. I daresay you’re welcome to use the facilities that we have to offer, though I’m not sure that our venue is really a very good place for a fashion shoot.” Shoots usually required numerous sets of clothing and needed new hairstyles and make-up. The quaint wandshop simply wasn’t a very smart venue for such frivolities. Not only that, but Mathieu was pretty sure that Thomas wouldn’t want his shop used for a place to play dress up. 

Mathieu raised the glass of wine to his lips and took a healthy gulp. “You might try the shop next door, but I don’t think I’ve seen anything remotely close to those frills next door, so they might not want you advertising other people’s merchandise on their property. I’d say your manager bunged this one up,”

(((OOC: You may stop Erin if you wish.  Otherwise, she exits the thread at this point)))

"Eh, no I'm not in danger, though thank you for your concern.  Um, why would you think that?  Never mind- I really do not want to know," Erin thought aloud, immediately jumping to some wrong conclusions.  Most Frenchman she met were nice people, even if they did hate the English as a national past time.  Still, the gentleman seemed off a little bit to Erin.  She assumed that was probably because of all the confusion.

When another person entered the conversation, she could not tell if he was saving her or the gentleman who owned the wandshop.  In short truth, Erin guessed it really did not matter.  She had a job to do, and sitting here talking to these two gentlemen...was actually a welcome relief from it.  If that photographer had just decided to stay in the proper set, none of this would have been a problem.  Erin was unaware of the irony of a distracted person causing a multitude of issues, but would not think too deeply about it even if she was. 

"Thank you kindly.  My manager may take you up on that offer, though I doubt it.  Since you're french, I'm sure he'd at least offer you a bottle of fine wine for your trouble.  This photographer makes me wonder if he got thrown off a hippogriff when he was a baby or something," Erin's rage creeping through a little.  Before she could make any further comment though, the person who had handed her the dress came back in.

"There you are Miss Dark.  Come, we need to get going, this shoot is already behind.  We've lined up a place for you," the agent said.

"Nice meeting you two gentlemen.  Um, we'll send a gift-basket or something for the trouble.  Sorry for the chaos," Erin said, as she was being half-ushered, half-dragged, and escorted  out the door. 

Young women showing up in his shop at the same time as Mathieu... Not a coincidence that Thomas found comfort in. He did frown at the young woman’s question; she was wandering in a wand shop unattended. Was safety not a paramount concern? His mouth opened and then shut; if she didn’t want to know why it might be cause for concern, then he could keep his opinions to himself.

“Mademoiselle, please forgive my brother’s indelicacies.”

Thomas frowned as he glanced pointedly at his helpful little brother. Standing up straighter, he resisted the desire to cross his arms over his chest, instead settling his hands on his waist, elbows jutting out. He had half a mind to tell Mathieu what he thought his brother was used to, but kept his tongue in his cheek.

The shop next... Thomas’ eyes went wide as he slowly shook his head. Madame Claire was not very understanding in the slightest. Luckily the young woman began talking; she seemed to make circles with her words, coming back to her point after a ramble of sorts. He nearly jumped when the bell sounded again, glancing quickly over his shoulder to it. Thomas wasn’t used to such business during his off season.

“There you are Miss Dark.”

Thomas glanced back to the young woman, rubbing the back of his head as he shook his head. “No trouble, mademoiselle. Au revoir.”

After the door closed behind her, Thomas glanced at Mathieu before his face broke out into a grin. “Well, that was interesting.” His words had slipped back into the familiar french, moving over to pour himself a glass of wine. “Do you wear cologne that attracts all the adolescent girls to you?” Thomas absentmindedly took a breath in of the wine before taking a sip from his glass, enjoying the tart liquid as he moved it around his mouth, finally swallowing in admiration.