Just A Hello (Thomas & Clove)

"Monsieur! Monsieur!" Thomas shouted, crashing through the door of the greenhouse and fell over a pile of flower pots. The floor collided with his face not a moment later, making sure to leave its mark in the point of contact.

The young boy laughed and pushed himself up from the floor, one hand reaching up as he felt a small graze begin to bleed.

"Merde!" He spoke the word softly as he sat up, scanning the greenhouse for the man he was looking for. The place looked undeniably empty, but Thomas wouldn't be beaten that easily. He pushed himself to his feet, wiping the dirt out of the new clothes his mother had sent him. No matter how shocked Lady Clement was at the news of her son's choices, she wouldn't allow him to look a mess.

"Monsieur Rosario?" Thomas called, stacking the flower pots back inside one another. He hoped he hadn't broken any or messed up any system of the older boy's, he didn't wish to cause trouble. Standing back up once more, Thomas looked around hopefully for the person he had come to see.

“I told you to be more careful!” The mouse looked to the blonde over her shoulder. “This is quite awful.” She pressed her lips together.

Her eyes widened at the sight of a broken flowerpot! Oh, the dirt scattered the ground sullying her earlier efforts: a very thorough sweep followed by the most diligent mopping! It was only then she noticed the boy standing by the source of the chaos. Sarah told the young lion it was an ill idea to stack those flowerpots –even if it saved space.

She tucked the broken wand away.

“I never used it, anyways.” Clove shrugged.

He brushed back his hair with a slight sigh, “What now?”

The apprentice caught sight of Sarah approaching Lemon with the concern of a mother hen: are you all right? Oh, dear –she took stock the damage done to his clothes and a minor scrape.

Clover crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Clement,” he nodded, “How do you do?”

Sarah searched the stranger’s eyes for the truth in his response. Satisfied, she smoothed her apron and apologized for being so very forward: how very presumptuous of her to lay hands on him.

Her dark eyes fell to the tile. The same tile filled with soil. She frowned: that would not do!

Sarah went off to gather the appropriate tools to clean up such a mess.

The blonde watched the brunette hurry off, excusing herself with a quick curtsy after satisfying formalities. She tucked a stray chestnut lock –one that had escaped from her bun. Sarah gave him a glare promising they would talk about his now broken wand.

“I told you to be more careful!”

Thomas jumped at the voice, though he couldn't be sure if the reprimand was for the mess he'd made. The young lord looked at the mess and then scanned the floor, noticing how tidy the rest of the greenhouse was. There would be trouble, he was sure of it and the guilt was already starting to ebb at him.

The next moment the woman, who's voice he suspected to be the one he'd heard moments ago was stood in front of him, touching the small graze on his face. He flinched slightly when she first raised his hand toward his face, something that had become habit over the years. The woman was gentle though, unlike his parents and the quiet cooing was strangely warming. It didn't last though. With a short sentence Clove had scared the woman into formality and she'd apologised before retreating from the room.

Looking to the older boy, Thomas frowned momentarily. It wasn't his fault though. People respected the social norms, especially around the most powerful of the lords in France. For a brief moment he'd been a normal young man and then it was all lost in the mention of his last name.

"I... Uh..." Thomas shook away the thoughts to concentrate on the older boy. "I'm well thank you, monsieur. I trust I find you in good health? And I apologise for knocking the pots over."

He waved his hand to the mess, though it was unnecessary. A hand subconsciously came up to the graze, pulling away to show a small dot of blood, signifying the cut was quite pathetic. Just a graze. Nothing more. He told himself, though the woman's words had suggested more.

Clove raised an eyebrow at Lemon’s frown. Figuring the boy wouldn’t say anything, he watched Sarah scurry off with a grin. The lady refused dust to so much settle before banishing it away back on the estate.

Lemon mumbled something. His forest green eyes landed on the boy. Clove blanked momentarily. The smile relaxed to a neutral line. His tongue tested the air prior to moistening his lips. He cocked his head to a slight angle.

“Oh,” his arms uncrossed. The healer waved it off, “Don’t worry.” A hand slid into his pocket. He wiped his face, his hand lingering over his mouth for a yawn.

Clove brought a fist to his open palm. He had a purpose in being here, yes. The blonde sauntered over to the professor’s mess. Books made this hazardous wall hiding his chicken scratch from the eyes of students. He searched for a particular volume: “So, what brings you here?”

Thomas followed the doctor and jumped up on one of the tables to take the weight off of his feet. There was a dull ache in his calves. It had been there for a few days now, and no amount of stretching would get rid of it. Growing pains, that's what the school nurse had told him. Thomas flexed his legs up before swinging them back down. The action was childish, he knew, but he didn't care.

“So, what brings you here?”

Clove's voice brought him back to the here and now, his silent reverie gone. A smile broke out on his face as he looked up from his feet.

"We are friends, non?" The boy teased, going back to swinging his legs. "But there is news, oui. From the castle? I passed my Defence exam with a very high mark."

Thomas beamed, it had been the written practice exam, and he'd tried his hardest with it, proving he was capable. The letter was already on its way, outlining his result as well as Lissette's. Naturally, she had done well, but his mark was one higher and he was on a high.

"The Quidditch selection starts next weekend, as does the choice for the combatant captain." If Thomas had looked excited then, it was nothing to how he looked now, both were exciting to the boy.

"Outside the castle? Things are getting worse every day, but father won't say much in his letters..."

The boy trailed off, frowning at his feet again. The next part of his father's letter he hadn't even told Lissette yet. She would find out eventually though, he guessed. Thomas stole a quick look at the older boy and looked away again.

"My mother is with child again." It was a whisper, he still couldn't decide how to feel about that. But the doctor would help, he was sure of it.

Clove surveyed the mess. A burst of air rushed past his nostrils. Where in the world, he wondered; was his tome? His palms took to opposing ends of the desk.

“Huh?” He blinked, looking up at Lemon: “Oh, um yeah.” Clove offered a smile that didn’t quite reach to his eyes. His fingers idly tapped the mahogany desk: that volume, it was here . . . somewhere.

Bright eyes darted to the desk. His grin faltered before he made eye contact once more, “Congratulations.” The exam reminded him of his useless wand. It being broken equated to being as equally as useless when intact. He wondered how in the world he survived in the Academy.

Clove returned to sorting papers with mild apprehension. None of them were graded. He bit back the desire to swear –there went his weekend.

“That’s uh splendid,” Clove weakly beamed. There were so many papers! “I take it,” he felt his heart drop –there were assignments prior to the break without a single mark, “You’re a hopeful prospective, no?”

With a sigh, he carefully placed a stack of essays on the chair. Clove went to his wrist, undoing the knot of the scarlet tie. “I’ve only been here for two years,” the blonde’s eyebrows came together –damn knot: “From day one, there’s been this tension.”

There we go, he looked at Lemon: “And for reasons unknown to me, someone lit the fire.” Clove took the tie between his lips. His hands occupied themselves with brushing his hair back before tying it up.

“Huh,” he scratched his neck. “Congratulations?” Clove felt his tongue rather dry. He favored organizing the desk: “Or not.”

Another child presented itself to be a threat to his inheritance, or did it? In England, first-born claimed the lion’s share. He knew not the laws of this land.

Being a nomad had its drawbacks. He settled for his fate. One currently wrought with hastily written essays.

"I will try out for the positions, yes." Thomas verified, watching the man worry over his papers and move them unnecessarily. The pile was huge, unlike any of the other piles he had seen from the teachers.

“And for reasons unknown to me, someone lit the fire.”

The phrase caught him off guard, not knowing what he meant Thomas looked round for the source of these words. He found nothing. A fire has been lit, what could that mean?

"Is there a problem, monsieur?" The boy asked, jumping down from the desk and moving to the papers. "Your marking is rising. Have you the answer sheet?"

He asked the question, pulling out his wand in the process.

"There is a simple spell, you know? You could have this done in an hour, no less." Thomas explained. "My father showed me once, and he said he knows when people use it. But, your marking will be done for you if you supply what you are looking for."

It was simple enough, the marking would do itself and Thomas would have the doctors full attention.

"And congratulations?" Thomas shook his head at the older man's question. The last bit of news - if the child survived child birth - was a huge concern for Lissette and him. But, his true feelings could never be spoken. He had to at least pretend he was happy with the news, didn't he?

His eyes widened at the sight of the wand. He tensed, swallowing: “No. Uh,” Clove cleared his throat: “I,” he went through the desk searching for the answer sheet. “I’m not sure.”

The blonde threw himself into the professor’s seat. It released a sound: oomph. He leaned back. His head reclined to take in the ceiling. A feeling of extreme loathing came over him. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I can’t,” it went deeper than a broken wand. He sat upright and looked at Lemon, “François trusts me as his apprentice. I cannot,” his fingers snapped –what was that word? French proved to be cumbersome at such times: be remiss in his duties, “betray his trust.”

Clove glanced down at the essays. His elbow found a place on the desk. A fist pressed against his cheek. He idly read the thesis with mild interest, “He was the first one to believe in me . . . when I came to this country.”

His light eyes fell on Lemon. He went to say more: however, Sarah entered. Clove’s gaze slid to her.

She allowed the broom to lean against the counter. The mop precariously balancing a metallic bucket utilized her shoulder as a fulcrum. Sweet Sarah placed it down before having her fists on her waist.

"And congratulations?"

“Clover,” her eyebrows came together in challenge.

“Sarah,” Clove smiled his foxy smile. It caused his eyes to become twinkling slits. He leaned back into his chair.

The man winked at Lemon: "Let's make a run for it." Clove nearly made it past the maid, but she caught him at his waist -and yanked him in place.

He gave her a peck on the cheek. Her cheeks a broke out with the darkest blush. She attempted to say something, but stuttered madly. Sarah released him. Clove grinned, "Later!" The blonde ran.

What happened in the greenhouse was a blur. Everything went so quick that Thomas couldn't even question why he was being so silly over such a simple spell. The man was weighed down and he was trying to help. Then the woman was back, with mop and bucket. The guilt returned as the young lord looked to the mess.

“Clover,” her eyebrows came together in challenge.

“Sarah,”

Ah, so that was the girl's name! Thomas made a mental note of that fact. The two adults were amusing, locked in a silent battle. His eyes flickered back and forth, an amused smile on his lips. There was something there, something between the pair, though Thomas couldn't explain it.

"Let's make a run for it."

The movement from Clove was sudden, trying to get past the maid and failing. It was quite a funny sight, seeing a man over powered by a woman. He would have to offer Clove the lessons with swords again. It would bulk the man up. Thomas looked away when the man kissed the woman on the cheek. Public affection wasn't his thing.

When the young lord decided to steal a glance at the couple however, only Sarah remained. Thomas hastily put his wand away and made his way to the door. He'd find the apprentice, but he flourished a proper bow to the young woman first.

"Au revoir, Sarah." Thomas said with a smile, excusing himself to the outdoors. "Clove?" He called, looking round for the older man.