It was a rare opportunity, having free time while in England.  Most usually she was being sent off almost as soon as she came, using all of her spare time to research her next target and the surrounding area.  With no family, she was also not restricted to the normal holiday tortures that would accompany this time of year.  She was utterly independent from the plans of others, and thus, decided to reach back a small ways into her past. 

It had snuck up on her anyhow.  After arriving home on the sixteenth of December, she had gone to Gringotts specifically to check on the state of her own vault and meet with the supervisor of all excavation and retrieval work, checking in on some rumors she had heard through various networks.  Apparently the source of her inquiries were not the only things being looked into, however, because as soon as she arrived in, she was escorted through the front area and rather than being brought to retrieval, she was invited into foreign investments, which meant only one thing: Leandre Toussaint Vaillancourt.

Her assumption had been correct and after being ushered through a veritable maze of hallways, designed to confound those who did not know where they were going - Goblins were blessedly good at making themselves completely necessary in this building - she was greeted by the sharply dressed man she knew all too well.  Charming as ever, he took her hand, kissed it and spoke to her in French as though they had never parted and he wasn't married.  Of course, small details rarely bothered Josephine, it had certainly not been an issue when they first met before his marriage, and continued to be a non-issue even after. 

But, the encounter had incited an interesting conversation, and it turned out Leandre's younger sister was in England.  Josephine had always liked the other redhead, finding her headstrong and smart with a class distinct to her personality.  With the notion that she could reconnect with her, Josephine found that reopening that old door had been somewhat worth it.  After having to, unfortunately, refuse a dinner invitation - she was not going to grant him that honor so easily, she thought she would take something else from the meeting. 

She had written a very carefully worded letter to Juliette Vaillancourt, asking her if she would like to meet for lunch in Diagon Alley.  Considering the holidays were reasonably over and she wanted to catch the younger woman before the school year began, Josephine gave her the open invitation and was pleasantly surprised when it was recieved and confirmed with a proper time and date.  It was so refreshing to have someone who knew how to properly answer a note!

So, on the way to lunch, Josephine glanced at her watch.  She was going to be just on time, which suited her well and glancing up at the Bistro's pseudo-French facade, she shrugged, having heard some good things, although never having been in England long enough to try it, it was the suggestion for the time being.  Walking in, she gracefully removed her cloak and handed it to the coat wrack that closed gently over the expensive fabric before Josephine looked about for her fellow redhead.  Perhaps she was playing the fashionably late card. 

When she was reasonably certain this was the case, she allowed the hostess to seat her, explaining about a second party joining, and was left in plain sight with a menu for the young woman to see upon entry.  She glanced at her watch again - expecting her at any moment. 

outfit

Leave it to Leandre to let a good thing go just so he could stay on top. Juliette rolled her eyes at no one in particular as her heels clack clack clacked on the cobbles lining the ally. She stepped into the main street, and the echo disappeared, dispersing itself in the winter crowd. Her shortcut had been a good move; pondering her brother’s love life had not.

But she couldn’t help it: after all these years, Juliette still hadn’t warmed to the woman who played trophy wife to her financier, golden boy sibling. It wasn’t even the girl’s fault. She was just so... vanilla. Juliette swished her lips to the side, wondering what their life would have been like-- they being the collective Vaillancourt clan-- had he proposed to someone more fiery, albeit less likely to shut up and sit pretty. Someone like Josephine.

She reached the cafe, slipped past a few loitering tourists with too many ugly ski jackets, and undid the buttons of her martial wool-blend cape. She left it hanging as her elegant lunch date had done with her own cloak a mere thirty seconds prior, unbeknown to Juliette). Adjusting her purse strap, she swept over the tables and immediately zeroed in on the most noticeable lone figure in the room.

Juliette floated over, bent down to kiss Josephine’s cheeks as she’d been taught as soon as she could walk or talk, and pulled back to absorb her brother’s ex-lover. The woman was beautiful, green eyes and dangerous curves, and a partner in crime in the hair department. Leandre was an idiot to let her escape. But then, many men were. And Josephine St. Just didn’t deserve to be tied down as someone’s cloak-and-dagger bedfellow.

The potioneer took her seat and lifted her own menu, her opposite hand reaching blindly for a glass of water. Her eyes flicked from the graceful scrawl of gourmet dishes, to Josephine, and back again. She smirked.

“Tell me your secret,” she said simply. All of that adventure in curse-breaking must have done a woman good. Juliette could feel the men looking at them. There was nothing quite like a pair of crimson and ivory witches for a visual appetizer.

“It is so good to finally peg you down, Joie-- even if you invited me. I swear it’s been... ages.”

It was hard not to see Juliette arriving in her stylish wool blend, pealing it off to reveal an even more suitable outfit for the ocassion.  Apparently they had both been inspired by navy, and she smiled, looking down at the boot on her foot, tapping it slightly as she looked over the menu.  It was true to it's French name with many traditional dishes, things she remembered her father's house elves making for them, though most likely presented in a far less delicate and glamourous way than the restaurant would put them out for them. 

It was not what she was most interested in at the moment though, smiling as Leandre's pretty - and arguably smarter - younger sister walked in with a purpose and strode directly for the table.  As soon as she was upon the table, Josephine leaned up to return the very French greeting with her own kisses on the cheeks.  Really it was the only proper way to greet anyone! 

"Juliette," she smiled easily and watched as the young woman took the seat across from her, gracefully lifting the menu and cruising over it before looking back up at her - demanding her secret.  The clear, bell-like laugh that eminated from her throat was common, especially over such an issue.

She shook her head and hide her smirk behind the menu, her auburn eyebrows raising just ever so slightly and her eyes lighting up with amusement, "I will tell you when you need to know," she assured her, "you are young and beautiful.  Any of my tips would be useless," she reasoned with the lowering of her menu and the reveal of her full, painted lips curled into a smile. 

Really, it was not a topic of coversation the young witch needed, and they were in public!  A lady never revealed her secrets in a crowded room.  It was letting all the mystery die, and Josephine thrived in a cloud of smoke and mirrors.  She quite liked to keep those things to herself, thank you, and pleasantries hadn't been completely finished yet!  And who could start their afternoon with a drink before pleasantries? Certainly not Ms. St. Just.

"It has been ages," she confirmed with a cool nod, "but I am finally back in England for a spell and thought I would catch up with those that actually matter."  She glanced down at the menu again, "I certainly caught up with someone already - congratulations on your professorship, by the way. You will be a wonderful addition to the staff - it is about time they looked at the entire picture when hiring."

The young woman rolled her eyes. “But you know how we are--” She leaned forward, blue eyes becoming coin like in their revelation. “Redheads-- they think we’re so delicate.” When they didn’t think they were man-eaters. Or satanic step-children, inherited like old attics with weary widowers looking for a fresh start. Her eyes darted to the table beside them. Two men in business robes were sipping their pre-lunch bubbly. And watching quite plainly.

Definitely man-eaters today, Josephine and Juliette.

Settling back with a smirk, she sipped from her water. It was cool to the lips, iceless, a hint of mint stirred in, as seemed to be the en vogue thing to do these days.

“They sell all sorts of things to make your hair grow overnight and your nails shine in thirty seconds, but I’ll be damned if I can walk into an English chemist’s and find a makeup that doesn’t make me look jaundiced.” She tilted her head, smirk swishing to the side, becoming a frown. Finally she shrugged. “I guess it’s a good thing we have owl ordering, then.” Oh, and potioneering. “But one day, Josephine...” Juliette narrowed her eyes to a sort of hunter’s gun wink. “I’ll find your stash of elixirs and Floo for the border.”

As she browsed the menu, and continued smiling, and there was even a slight glow to the fair skin of her cheeks. “Thank you. It should be interesting... I’ve never worked with children.” Perhaps it was a massive mistake, but there was only one way to find out.

“So you saw him, then? Was he wearing that new wrist watch? It costs more than my flat. He’s such a show-off.” And yet, a stealth man, Leandre. Wealthy, but to the taste. Expensive, confident, willing to flash his wealth, but never quite ostentatious. Certainly not new money. Certainly not the type to be mugged in an ally. Certainly not the type to be caught.

Josephine was proud to be what she was – and that was not delicate.  “I do not believe anyone has ever used delicate in describing me, Juliette,” she responded with a plain, matter-of-fact certainty about the issue.  She had never been one to play the damsel in distress, and certainly wouldn’t start now. She lived her own life, made her own choices, and did not let anyone else make those choices for her.  If she had… well, she didn’t even know where she would have ended up!  Certainly not a world traveler and curse breaker. 

It also made for a markedly more mysterious person, and Josephine lifted her water to her lips, lingering slightly over the rim before taking a sip and settling it down again.  “I will go to my grave first,” she said honestly, not wanting to give away any of her secrets.  She did not want them stolen either, as it was the mark of a person who could not protect their own secrets.  How could she be expected to handle the long forgotten secrets of others when she could not even protect her own?  Ah, it was a matter of pride, and she leaned back in her chair, easily looking over the menu.

She glanced casually to the side, seeing a pair of wizards looking at them pointedly.  She smiled at them, lowering her eyes in faux demureness, flicking them back up once – who knew who they were, but if they would be advantageous to know as the two men she had seen at the bistro, then she would be happy to have given them even the time for a brief smile.

Her attention reverted back to Juliette though and she waved her hand.  “You will find your way about.  You are crafty and resourceful.  Appeal to their interests and you will succeed.”  Josephine had no doubts about this, Juliette was a creative girl, and very talented.  She would find her way about a classroom.  “If all else fails, you can wear tight robes for the boys’ support and teach perfumery to the girls.”  She laughed softly and again smirked behind her menu.  It was fun to scandalize the younger woman just a little bit.

It was hard to imagine that she could scandalize such a worldly young lady, but she imagined it would only serve to cut a little bit.  If she was going to be asked about Leandre, it was only fair.  Shaking her head, she had a hard time not smiling – fondness took a long time to die and true, Josephine still found there was something inherently charming and adoring about him, even if she knew it was a look but don’t touch situation, for the time being. 

“If I did not know him well enough, I would not have noticed how often he checked the time,” she smiled, a trace of some tender emotion on her face but gone like a flash.  “I am never surprised by his taste, nor his inability to budget his spending.”  There were a lot of things Josephine could say about the man, but none of which were those that she would like to admit to currently.  “He is looking well.  How is that little wife of his?  Have they produced the Vaillancort heir yet or are the parents still biting nails in anticipation?”

Her interest in Leandre's life might not have been acceptable to ask about with him directly, but with his sister, she could fiind out all she wanted to know and not feel at all guilty, just like she would not feel guilty about the dessert she already intended to have, after their server came over to take their initial order, as it were.

Smiling as the brim of her glass hovered near her lips, Juliette claimed the role of guilty party. “You’re lucky,” she offered. “And deceptive, then,” she corrected herself, forfeiting the challenge. Or perhaps they were both right; for it was true, dear Joie was hardly delicate... but then there were always the preconceptions one held of women, and they were perhaps worse for ones so pretty and uniquely complexioned as Miss St. Just. Juliette would like to meet the man who dared called Joie delicate to her face, but no doubt many a men were left whispering in her wake, wondering what it might be like to get the perpetually-traveling Curse Breaker into a corner. She was like the top-shelf china doll no one could have, and everyday was Christmas.

Then again, she was also the woman who had bagged a man supposedly “off the market.” Namely, Juliette’s brother.

“And I suppose your grave will be as expertly guarded as your Gringotts vault,” she mused, rolling her eyes. Like a Faeroe, Josephine would likely go out in style. Juliette would not be surprised. A Curse Breaker had to know the best of curses to break them. Perhaps that was also how she had obtained her beauty preservation secrets. (Not that neither woman was nearly old enough). “And in my eulogy, I’ll be terribly bitter.”

Pleased that someone had confidence in her-- her own mother had merely frowned and asked when she might marry and start producing heirs, instead of taking post as a lowly professor with a meager salary and dowdy living quarters-- and recognized the scope of her challenge (children), Juliette committed the wise words to memory. “My father is impressed I landed the job, but both he and my mother think they’ll run me right out of the school. Mama is counting on it. I’ll definitely bring out the perfume bottles if it means proving her wrong.” Juliette had no plans to turn into her mother so early in life. “But flirting with my male students?” Juliette tilted her head down, eyeing Josephine carefully. “I never knew you were such a cougar, Joie. Did you know I have a younger brother, too?” She asked, both innocently and enticingly.

Juliette laughed, catching the irony. Leandre was terrible at frugality or humbleness, but he was in charge of banking relations between two nations with a very long history. “I don’t think he’ll ever run out of money... how unlucky for both of us.” To bring her brother to his knees... a girl could dream.

“They haven’t. She’s in a fragile state,” Juliette explained, suppressing an unladylike form of laughter. “And my brother is at the bank from dawn to dusk... or so he says. I’m sure half the time is spent in lounges, and the other in Quidditch stadium boxes. He's in no rush, that's for certain." A married bachelor, an elegantly conveyed frat boy in a suit and tie. "But he needs only to throw money at her and she acts like an obedient puppy. It’s dreadfully boring to watch.”

Juliette placed her order and waited for the server to flit away before she leaned into the table just barely, and carried on the conversation in a whisper. “Her family is notorious for girls, and I know she wants one. She can’t do anything on her own. She thinks a daughter would make her more domineering... my mother would be furious.” The son was expected first, whether biologically possible or not. And, naturally, against the grain of science, the woman took the blame for female chromosomes. “I almost feel bad for her. I love being a woman-- I can’t blame her for wanting a girl. But she’s just so helpless, I don’t really.” Deep in her heart, Juliette did have compassion for her brother’s dense bride. But she’d never appreciated how things operated... how the weak woman won titles, and became even weaker, bred and passed on their docility; and the good women, the ones who did things, who made differences, who put their wands to use, were shrews or old maids. It was the archaic downfall of Pureblood society.

 “My dear, I will put the curses on it myself,” Josephine laughed in her usual way, amused at the fact that it was most likely true.  She would keep her secrets to the grave.  All of them were closely guarded, kept in storage, and hidden away from the general public.  The only person who knew most of her secrets was very dead at this point, and would remain that way, obviously.  Josephine had no notions of reanimation and certainly didn’t advocate for such a thing.  Humanity was about moving on and letting go, she held onto things while they were still tangible, but it had been time to let go long ago. 

Granted, it did not stop her from occasionally passing by the cemetery in Montrose, but it certainly didn’t consume her.  “That’s assuming you out live me,” Josephine added cryptically, drinking her water and glancing at the menu again.  She was starting to get hungry.  Hopefully a waiter would come over soon and take the two lovely ladies’ orders.  Women did not survive on water alone, far from what men seemed to think about them and their delicate natures, something that Juliette had brought up and Josephine quickly dismissed.

She challenged anyone to call her that to her face.  So far, no man had been stupid enough to do so. 

It appeared Juliette did not have the same experience, however.  Her parents were making this experience dashedly difficult for her and pursing her full lips, Josephine sighed.  It was no surprise, she was a good, society pureblood girl – it was expected that she settle down and act like that wretched creature Leandre had married.  Joie applauded Juliette’s pursuits, though she knew it was not a popular choice amongst the society.  Thankfully, being a half-blood excluded her from the expectation of a lifetime of passive docility. 

Her humor was returned as Juliette regarded her quizzically, speaking of her younger brother.  “Ah, I’m aware,” she replied, trying her hardest not to indicate interest or disinterest.  Instead, she picked up a breadstick from the middle of the table, nibbling on the crunchy bread.  “Unfortunately, I am not currently looking for prey.  It was just a suggestion for you.  Maybe nab yourself some young, virile pureblood boy to do your bidding and please Mummy and Daddy,” she laughed wickedly, a tight smirk keeping the overzealous laughter from coming out. 

The tight smirk turned into a tight expression though – fragile state.  It meant one thing and one thing only, the way society talked about children.  So Victorian, so appealing – it was far more genteel than saying pregnant.  And the whole relationship reeked of Victorianism, the father away and mother left to her devices and money.  She was about to comment when the server came to them, smiling anxiously in the way young men did when confronted with beautiful women and Josephine leaned back in her seat, letting Juliette order first, and placed her order after, shutting the menu and handing it over in one fluid motion. 

She was far less interested in dining selections at this point.  The family news of the Vaillancort’s was far more interesting in the way that gossip tickled the delicious need to be powerful.  Gossip gave one a sense of owning something, of holding a secret that others did not have, and Josephine was overly greedy when it came to this type of information.  In many ways, she had not yet truly abandoned the idea of Leandre, though it would take a pack of wild sphinxes to admit it. 

And hearing about this wife, this woman that had managed to get what no one else had managed to get Leandre Vaillancort to do – get married.  Granted, it did not seem like it was a marriage of equals, or even semi-equals, but it was a marriage nonetheless.  And her hope for a girl would not make things much better.  Josephine shook her head, almost feeling bad for the woman as well.  “Duty before pleasure, I believe is the code of high society in these matters,” she nodded with a bit of a smile – not trying to seem too vulgar, but at the same knowing these were the things that really mattered.  “She’d be lucky to get the son out of the way, though I suppose if she wants the luxury of being ‘in the family way’ again a girl would be most advantageous.” 

She could not blame the woman if that were the case.  Unless Leandre lacked all passion with his wife, she would hardly dread him coming into her bedroom.  Josephine had certainly never had that problem, passion was abundant.  “I cannot imagine he is particularly involved in any of this, of course.  I had read he was spotted at Montrose some weeks ago.  No doubt for reasons other than Quidditch.  Such a pity I was still in Ghana.”

A woman who could predict her death in such a timely manner so as to both prepare her own imminent funeral and continue a life of walking passionate tight ropes? Juliette really was at a loss how her brother had let this one go. Hell, how had the bastard even graduated? But then, Josephine was exactly the sort of woman no one could ever have: the sort of woman Juliette was molding herself to be.

“I’d better brush up on my curse-breaking, then,” was all she could say.

It was sad, that Juliette couldn’t entice her brilliant company into playing lady friend for her baby brother, but wholly unsurprising. Josephine would eat him alive.

“I don’t know, love, I rather like the prospects of the job... I don’t think I want to get myself sacked and tied down so soon. But you do have a way with words...” She raised a brow, playfully considering the suggestion. “What a shame our Minister has no children in the castle, though.”

Juliette laughed, but it was a sad sort of laugh. “If this fit of fragility is anything like the last two, it’s another phantom pregnancy. She needs a head healer, not a nursemaid.” Juliette tapped her temple, offering up a wink. “But I agree with you... if she can manage a boy, the rest is locked in. Some women just don’t get it. I suppose getting married to an obscenely rich man is as good a way as any to remedy a lack of braincells.” And also a dangerous way to end. It took a seemingly weak and self-effacing woman to make a home for a man like Leandre, to legally bind him. But it took a brilliant woman to keep him interested.

“Yes, well, he does love his sports, doesn’t he?” In more ways than one. “But Papa has a box in the new stadium just outside London. It’s glorious. You’re practically family, Josephine-- now that you’re here, you’ll have to let me drag you to one. Leandre should be in London for the next month or so.” Should being the operative word.

Josephine could not help but laugh.  “You know his reputation, I wouldn’t be surprised if one or two carried a little trace of parental indiscretion.”  Her eyes glittered with wickedness as she sipped at her water, half hoping for shock and half hoping for confirmation of their Minister’s past reputation amongst the general public.  Josephine did not hear much about England abroad, but what she did hear was not exactly reassuring.  During the war it had been constrained heavily.  Other countries had no problem pointing out the obvious, it appeared the last to acknowledge the problem had almost drowned. 

Of course, now that that period of time was over, it became far less interested even abroad, and the only talk was of scandal.  Certainly, this scandal was not particularly founded, but almost all rumors found a solid basis in fact, and Annwyl for all of his problems, was not unattractive.  “You’ve heard about his engagement though, a medi-witch?” she shook her head, “His relatives must be rolling over in their portraits.” 

Marital disapproval was not only running rampant in the Minister’s life though, Josephine reasoned.  There were more pressing problems than an ill-informed bridal choice, at least the way Juliette laughed – so polite, so societal.  Even an unfortunate situation was to be lightened with a bit of lady-like laughter.  Josephine nodded with understanding – poor woman was so desperate to be with child she willed her body into mimicking it.  How unfortunate, who would want to wish that upon their body without the fruit of its labor, no pun intended. 

“Pity,” Josephine said, only half-heartedly.  If Leandre had been silly enough to pick her, he would have to deal with the pressure of his family and hers to produce something of value, though she supposed his eyes were elsewhere, they normally were.  She had no problem with this, but it certainly did sour the grapes of the Vaillancort champagne.  She did not wish to test her potential fertility, however, so blessings to the couple if they could produce.  If not, it would start to reflect poorly on more than just the woman. 

It was alright to be a playboy for a while, but Leandre was pushing the limits of respectability.  Sure, he looked like a gentleman and certainly had the mannerisms, charm, and intentional arrogance of the aristocracy to back his exploits, but he needed a family for legitimacy and the woman was just… not producing, quite literally.  He could have his quidditch, racing, and exploding snap for now, but there would be a time soon it would have to change. 

Joie was in no such place though and she smiled contentedly, “I would love to,” she nodded firmly, remembering her days playing Quidditch – the way her father used to tell her how well she flew, a natural at it – though without the interest in brute strength to continue on to majors or the desire to see her mother in any capacity.  “Perhaps enticing him with a little… invitation might ensure he does not make himself scarce for the occasion?”

Parental indiscretion, indeed.

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see... of course, I’ll owl you the minute I suspect I’ve found his long-lost child.”

The irony, of course, being that Juliette hadn’t the faintest idea that a young boy (a future pupil) was being tossed around the Wizarding uppercrust, playing a very classic game of Who’s-Your-Daddy?

Silent laughter shook her, pale shoulders scrunching beneath cool, blue blazer. “I have... I almost commend him for not going the route of some men,” she admitted, curling her lips in and taking another sip. “But then... his taste is questionable, isn’t it? Do we know her story? I can’t bother with the English tabloids, and the rubbish in the papers is not much better.” Perhaps she’d nursed him back to health; perhaps he’d taken a liking to her after she wiped the fevered brow of an old and dying relative. Some terribly romantic, nauseous tale, to be sure. The most powerful man in Wizarding England acting like a lovesick school boy, proposing to a working woman as if they’d run off to the states and elope one day. But then, she’d been in Paris, and had been far too consumed with her work to keep up with these things. Her mother had owled her in detail, and had found the most brilliant ways to make the irrelevant news exceptionally pertinent to Juliette’s personal life. ‘If you don’t find a husband, you’ll end up married to an intern in hospital scrubs!’

A working man. The horror. Even white collars weren’t appeasing to Mummy Dearest. It was old money she was after; though Juliette’s brothers all held good jobs, their careers were entrenched as much in social privilege as they were work ethic. Who had ever heard of a self-made diplomatic liaison for ancient bank accounts? (Who holidayed in Monaco at the weekends, and held seasonal boxes at every Quidditch stadium in the United Kingdom.)

The barren bores of the would-be baroness were tiresome after a while. Woe was her who couldn’t keep a little monster in her womb for nine months. It couldn’t have been any harder than brewing the most tedious of potions, or curse-breaking ancient ruins. Hell, Juliette had plenty of private clients willing to pay obscene amounts to... what was their wording?... make it go away.

Laughing, Juliette leaned forward, discarding all instilled norms by placing her elbows upon the tablecloth. “A personal invitation from Mademoiselle Josephine St. Just? He’d pause the recession to answer that owl.”

Josephine joined in Juliette’s laughter, especially concerning the marital prospects of the minister.  He had certainly found the most interesting choice in all of the women in the wizarding world that would put a seal on his political life and future, he went with this Randall woman.  Now, Josephine had no problem with women who worked, she was one of them, after all, though she did not do so out of necessity.  She supposed Randall might not either – talk was that she was indeed, a pureblood, but still, a medi-witch!  She could have pursued something a bit more… fitting of her position, a healer, at least. 

“I haven’t a clue,” she answered honestly, to the question of her story, “I’m sure her parents must be thrilled though – I’ve heard she is pure,” which served to mean something, she supposed.  It wasn’t as though every pureblood was immediately imbibed with a sense of aristocracy and class.  The Weasleys were an example that no one would forget for quite some time, she was sure.  Josephine herself was a half-blood, not particularly central to her identity, no more than the fact she was a redhead, it was a simple truth, but one that was mitigated by her sense of grace and upbringing.  She may enjoy the odd romp in the dessert, but it was a personal challenge and thirst for adventure – also the slightly underhanded and devious sort of thing that appealed to some people. 

Whatever the case, she was not the same sort of working woman – she didn’t take care of other people, she took care of herself, and she did a job that required an abundance of independence, flexibility, and cunning.  She supposed, in that vein, it would be more likely a pureblooded family would roll in their graves if a pureblood man was to marry her, than some docile little medi-witch.  Their losses, of course, considering Josephine was  endlessly more interesting than any of those women, with the refinement that was required to parade about society. 

In reality, she could never be happy in that life, but she could be just as happy flitting in and out when she wished too, which was the opportunity raised here.  Smiling in the way that a leopard would smile at its prey before licking its chops and clawing into the flesh of its back, she shook her head.  “I would certainly enjoy testing the theory.  I would, of course, also love for you to attend.” 

She followed her cohort’s example and placed her arms on the table, resting her chin on her palm, still smiling – green eyes glistening.  “He might actually have the power to halt the international market if he felt like it.  Sometimes I feel as though he would do it for sport, if it wouldn’t affect the family investments.”  She chuckled softly and clicked her tongue, “But what have you heard of the new team?  Is it even worth going to watch?  I feel as though I could spend my time in London more… productively.”

She glanced around,  thinking about what she had heard and her interests in being in London, smiling at Juliette as she decided it was alright to divulge a little more gossip… though this profoundly more professional than Leandre or the Minister’s misgivings, “I’ve heard some rumors about an artifact gone missing in the Isles… It’s an intriguing little puzzle that no one will reveal much about at present.  It serves to only pique my interest."

“Mmm.” Juliette nodded in passive-aggressive agreement, very unlike herself, but it was the only remark to be made, really. The woman had a family with history, if nothing else could be dug up. It was always reassured her to be able to trace a family tree, however ironically archaic a habit. Juliette, the Modern Woman, Juliette, the Independent Woman, Juliette, Not-Her-Mother’s-Daughter, was still, in almost every way that counted, Juliette of the Silver Spoon.

With downward turn of the chin, a flit of the lashes, Juliette purred in equally feline agreement. “I thought you’d never ask.”

It was great fun, to see her brother tango with Josephine, and to see Josephine usually saunter her way to the top in an eventual victory. She was not, after all, married. And she had the deliciously ironic advantage of being a woman.

But it was all temporary, always fleeting, or there were moments that Juliette was none the wiser to have witnessed. She wondered, after all these years, why they didn’t make the most daring move of all, or if it might mark the end of two very powerful people, some sort of permanent win that couldn’t be undone or forgotten or trumped.

“He is rather dull when it comes to family investments,” she mirrored. “Though I’ll have to drink to that.” Perking up, she raised her glass and took a sip. She did love her brother, the charming devil. Leandre drove her mad, but she loved him. “But I think he has more fun with your sport, Joie. I don’t know anything about this team, but just the look on his face...”

It was worth it, really.

The gears shifted and Juliette sat back again, shoulders rounding into idle leisure. “What sort of... artifact?” One would have to give her more information than that, especially now that she’d been successfully baited. But then that was the point, no? Even Josephine seemed to know little, and thus, wanted to know everything. “Is that where you’re going next, then? To Isles, and then to trace it to wherever it’s gone off to? Maybe it tired of not being found and grew legs...” She winked.

When it came to Leandre, Josephine knew his favorite games.  She frequently engaged in them, actively playing both cat and mouse when it suited her best, and often scurried out through the hole in the wall as mouse until she made a surprise appearance again as whichever she preferred to play at the moment in time.   There was no trap strong or complicated enough to ensnare Josephine, though she was beginning to believe the hum-drum of English country living would be the end of her, if she didn’t have something to keep her occupied until her next mission overseas. 

Perhaps Leandre could provide some of that amusement, but not all of it.  Josephine needed to be mentally stimulated, intrigued and tested with puzzles that required skill.  Leandre was a puzzle had figured out years ago, removing and reinventing him was something new, but generally, they all had the same pattern, and the same responses to the ways in which she manipulated the pieces. 

“It is not something one can put in words,” Josephine stated simply, taking a sip of her white wine.  It was playfully sweet, but not too sweet, just enough to tickle at the taste buds.  “But I will enjoy seeing it again,” she admitted with a little more nostalgia than she intended.  She cleared her throat and thanked the Heavens for the topic change to something she could sink her intellectual teeth into.  The problem she really wanted to tackle that wasn’t her personal life. 

“I have heard a few things,” Josephine said honestly, “I’ve heard it was a dagger, I’ve heard it was an axe – even a shovel on some of the networks.”  She laughed softly though, rolling her green eyes just a tad.  “Wahtever it is,” she began, “I have heard it entered the wrong hands – and they had no idea what they were doing with it.”  She sighed, putting down her glass to regard Juliette carefully, as though this were some pertinent topic, “Really, if the wrong people get the wrong item, it could be disastrous.  I’m hoping nothing too detrimental happens in the meantime, or it could even be a hoax.” 

She leaned in though, her eyebrows furrowed, “Though the way I have been hearing the underground talk about it, it does not seem to be purely fictitious.  I imagine it isn’t well known by the masses yet, but once it does – well, I’m hoping I get to it before then.  I have good word it is somewhere between England and Scotland now.  I am just waiting for the word from those in charge.”

She leaned back in her seat, “Bureaucracy is really a pain,” she noted bouncing her foot up and down.  “What of the school?  Any sort of problems like that levitating above your head?”

Whatever it was Josephine had, the little game, the "sport" Juliette had mentioned-- Juliette knew to accept the delightful tidbits in small doses. It was as intense as chess, and as drawn-out too. And, well, there was also the tiny fact that Joie had just told her that it couldn't be explained. And those were always the best sorts of ventures. But Juliette be lying if she weren't curious. Constantly curious. Even if it involved her own brother. Or perhaps because it did. And also because Juliette had always imagined their affair to be the sort of passionate pitchfork that flew in and ruined everyone's dreadfully boring plans. Even if it hadn't, and probably wouldn't, because the pair of them were simply too suave to let it.

A dagger. An axe. A shovel.

Hmm...

"Too bad it's not a magicked mortar and pestle. For all the spells they give us today, I can never find a lab rat who turns cabbage to dust enough to my liking." She shook her head sadly, but smiled the entire time. "But if the wrong people get it," she offered lightly. "Doesn't that mean a bigger adventure for you, pretty Joie?"

And then, lifting one hand to protest herself, and the other to her lips, wine glass clutched in her fingers, she added, "I see your point. It's not as if we can afford another trinity of hallows on our hands. Even France took a hit."

Juliette had been a teenager, the sort of girl who had dived head-first into piles of books at the palace library. But storms had brewed on the coast of France, just as they had in rainy old England. And Scotland...

"No, the process has been fairly easy, shockingly. But my cousin is the headmistress, you know." There was a witchy tinge to her throat. Who didn't like having connections? Then again, it hardly helped the young woman pull away from the ball and chain of her father's success. Or Leandre's. "I'm thrilled to meet the board of governors, of course." Her voice dripped with sarcasm, and she alleviated it with the drink.

“I am convinced you can find a spell like that in some book… or just test out every student’s skills in detention.”  That was fair, Josephine thought.  If one got the children to working perhaps they would realize how much better off they were just learning.  She had her fair share of detentions, though, she had to make it very clear in her school days she didn’t just play by the rules. She still didn’t.  Perhaps some students never learned.  Though, those were the students who didn’t get caught… Josephine did not get caught. 

Josephine had to shrug her shoulders.  She did not know.  “We shall see when the time comes, I’m sure.”  She took a sip of her wine, a knowing smile painted on her lips. “Besides, I do not believe in bigger adventures, merely new ones.” 

There was hardly an adventure bigger than what Josephine could handle . Sure, she had gotten into some sticky situations, particularly in Western Africa, but nothing that bad.  Nothing that had killed her, clearly.  None that had ruined her either.  It was an impressive streak and though she had her fair share of stories, the marks were insignificant in comparison to what had actually happened.  She was always good at keeping things low-profile, and the charms helped significantly, of course.

Juliette was using all of her charms, it seemed, on the school – and without having to lift a wand.  It was good to know people in high places and Josephine played that game too.  Granted, it was usually overseas and with local leaders and politicians, but same understanding, really.  Knowing people got you things and whatever you were peddling – goods or education, it was nice to know some of the faces and the names to schmooze – or, hopefully, be able to call out and work on a double deal. 

It was always nice, making a mutually beneficial deal.  Generally, not always on the up and up.  “Who is on that now?  Prideux, I think is one?” she raised her eyebrows reaching into her clutch, though she stopped mid-motion.  “Do you happen to know if they’ve banned smoking here,” she asked, “wouldn’t want to make a scene.”