How the hell did she get here? That question turned out to be even more baffling that she thought it would. Sitting in the small cafeteria should definitely qualify as incredibly pleasant, especially with its cosy interior full of light and flowers. It was truly romantic and girly and… And she hated every inch of it. Why couldn't he have taken her to a pub? Or even a plain diner? It would have made her feel as though she wasn't on a freaking date.

Clarisse looked across the table and noticed a slight blush on Herbert's face. She had to admit, he cleaned up pretty nice. At first, she had troubles recognizing him in that navy blue jacket, matched with a perfectly white shirt and light brown trousers, which made him look incredibly fashionable. Not that she knew a single thing about fashion. The only reason why she had even noticed his choice of clothing was the fact that she decided to wear the exact pair of tight leather trousers she wore to work every day. Merlin save her, she even put on a stupid Star Wars shirt, to blend into the crowd of a Muggle district.

This wasn't supposed to be a date. She had told him that, hadn't she?

"You look, um… You look nice. Very nice, yes," Herbert choked out after several minutes of deafening silence, disturbed only by the sounds of the coffee machine and cluttering dishes.

"I look exactly like every other day," she replied and slapped herself mentally.

If only Jacques could have seen her right now... He would be having such a blast watching that disaster.

"Yes, but… What I'm trying to say is…" he mumbled incoherently and she sighed, unable to take it anymore.

"Look. I feel incredibly stupid for coming here dressed like that, but I told you… This wasn't supposed to be a date."

Herbert lowered his gaze to the menu, smiling sadly. She would have to be a complete coldblooded wench not to feel sorry for him. Okay, he worked in the Forensics Department and he gave her creeps sometimes, but she couldn't say he was a bad guy. He seemed nice and cute in that nerdy, shy way. The only problem was, she hated nerdy and shy. She would have crashed him after a week of dating and he didn't deserve that.

"I just hoped that maybe… Maybe I could change your mind, you know," he finally said in a hushed tone that made her feel even worse. "I know that you don't want me, I'm not stupid. I just thought that maybe I can make you want me."

Clarisse sighed and covered her eyes with her own palm. Why did he even like her? She was mean, arrogant and cold. For Merlin's sake, she was that kind of person who didn't even care to remember his name and called him an idiot right to his face.

"The thing is, I'm not really worth your time, you know?" she finally said and faced him again. "Do you think I would be able to understand your scientific talk? Would your friends like me? Would you introduce me to your mother?"

Her questions had clearly made him baffled, as he opened his mouth and closed them a second later, not being able to find proper answers.

"That's what I thought," she smirked and sighed, leaning forward. "Don't waste your time on me. I know that people consider me to be tough, strong, and all kinds of stuff, but when it comes to love and such things… I'm nothing more than a disappointment."

"Why would you think so?" Herbert asked after a minute of silence and she snorted with amusement.

"I don't think I've ever been in a relationship. I mean, a serious one," she corrected and shrugged. "There's not many people who can stand me on daily basis."

"You seem pretty awesome to me," he protested, but she only laughed at his comment.

"Even if I didn't even bother to remember your name? Because, the truth is, I didn't even care enough to try."

Herbert scowled and she realised that her honesty probably wasn't the best idea.

"Yeah, that's exactly what I meant, Herbert," she muttered. "I'm not awesome. I'm probably more flawed than anyone realises. And a guy who is able to forgive a girl who constantly mistakes his name doesn't deserve that."

"But if you know about your flaws, why don't you try to change?"

"Because I don't give a shit," she snorted and shook her head. "Because I refuse to be perfect, just because everyone else seems to strive for it. As much as it is awful, I feel good about myself. I don't live in a bubble filled with constant need to be appreciated, to be admired. I had some shitty experiences in the past, I have my problems now… But all those things had turned me into the exact person I am right now. And if I have to hide who I really am, just because people will like me more… I'd rather be alone."

Her honesty felt almost too weird to be true. Since when did she share such confessions with people she didn't even like all that much? Maybe something about that adorable innocence forced her to act like a normal, open person for once? Whatever it was, it made her feel slightly anxious, embarrassed even. Clarisse looked away from his silhouette and grabbed her coffee that had gone cold and nasty. Still, she drank it just to avert her attention from Herbert, who kept looking at her in awe, making her even more flustered.

"For someone who doesn't give a shit, you really had thought everything through," he finally managed to say and she almost choked on her coffee.

"I didn't have to think it through. I simply know it."

An awkward silence filled the air once more and Clarisse shut her eyes with annoyance. What was she thinking? Oh, that's right. She wasn't. At least not when she had agreed to meet with him, even if she had known better all along. She just had to decide to be nice, just this once. Bloody hell…

"Jacques gets it, doesn't he?" Herbert asked and she opened her eyes, facing him with a surprised expression on her face.

No, scratch that, it wasn't surprised. It was completely baffled. What did he know about her friendship with Jacques, huh? Did he stalk her?

"Gets what? That I don't fancy the idea of sucking up to people? Um, yeah. He's my partner, he kind of noticed," she snorted and Herbert smiled with embarrassment.

Merlin, she was such a bitch sometimes…

"He gets you. All of you."

Clarisse opened her mouth and then closed it, feeling quite at loss for words. She could have just pretended she didn't know what he was on about, but that would be plain stupid, so she decided against it. However, telling Herbert about her friendship with Jacques felt even more ridiculous, so her options were limited to… well, none.

"He's my partner," she finally said and shook her head. "We've saved each other's lives, we've bled together. It changes everything."

"Is that what it takes to get through to you? If someone is willing to die for you… Is that what makes people worthy of you?"

Herbert simply smiled gently and then rubbed his forehead with abashment.

"I don't know what I was thinking, to be honest. I kind of hoped that maybe I would be able to get through to you… I mean, to the real you. Because it doesn't matter how much you believe you're this cold and bitchy person, it's not true. Your friendship with Jacques proves that," he said and stood up, never tearing his gaze away from her face. "I really hope you'll realise that someday, because to be honest… I never liked that strong and tough Clarisse. I liked the one I was seeing underneath that shell."

And with that, he left, not even bothering to say proper goodbyes. She felt utterly stupid, sitting in that ridiculous romantic cafeteria all alone with nothing but chaos in her mind. Riss wasn't lying; she really felt good about herself. But did it mean that Herbert couldn't have been right?

Bloody hell, hadn't she had enough problems already? Now was hardly the time to start questioning her own personality. She had a murder to solve, an impossible one at that. Shouldn't she focus on that, rather than wasting time on…

"I can't believe you agreed to go out with someone like that," a voice interrupted her internal musings and she closed her eyes, praying so that it would turn out to be a simple hallucination.

"Tell me you're not actually here," she muttered and opened her eyes when an amused snort came in a reply.

"That would mean you spend your free time fantasising about me and the idea revolts me."

How she hated that bloody git. What was he even doing here? Last time she checked, Paris was an Irishman-free zone, with no such idiots as Aedan Finley to bother her already troubled mind.

"Oh, trust me. You'd have to look at yourself through my own eyes to understand the true meaning of the word 'revolting'," she said and turned her head, only to see that he stood near the bar, leaning on the counter lazily and smirking.

Right away, she felt the urge to wipe that stupid smile off of his face. Or maybe she could slosh him with that nasty, cold coffee in her mug? Before she could decide, the douchebag opened his mouth and spoke:

"I've heard you're having troubles translating that book you took away from me right before you stunned me."

His vicious tone made her narrow her eyes and she chose to simply ignore him. Maybe he would simply go away if she treated him like a ghost? Except she had actually talked to ghosts sometimes… She also couldn't treat him like the air, since she actually needed it to survive. Blimey, this was difficult.

"I'm not having troubles. I just don't want someone to screw this up," she finally said with pride lacing her voice, to Finley's amusement.

"Oh and here I was, thinking that you knew someone who could do it perfectly," he said and rubbed his chin with thoughtfulness. "I mean, why else would you simply take the book from me? That would be really weird."

She crushed him with a glare and returned to thinking about different ways to hurt him. Maybe she could grab that ridiculous vase standing in front of her and crash it at the top of his head? At least she wouldn't have to look at that stupid flower inside of it. It would look better in Finley's hair anyway.

"I'm working on it, that's the only thing that should interest you," she finally muttered and scowled, knowing that hurting the Irishman was not an actual option.

Her boss would have handed her ass back to her if he knew Riss was even thinking about doing it.

"I was actually willing to give you more time, but I don't think it's possible anymore."

Clarisse heard his footsteps nearing her table and she reluctantly looked up to see his silhouette towering over her. She raised her eyebrows expectedly and simply stared, waiting for him to elaborate on his statement. That bloody git just smirked, not wanting to give in so easily, so she sighed with annoyance and said:

"And why is that?"

"There's been another murder, I'm afraid."

Her whole body tensed, as she realised that he hadn't been joking. Actually, his expression went from amused to serious in a blink of an eye and she cursed under her breath, her mood getting even worse than before.

"Where?"

To her surprise, Finley stepped to the left and gestured towards one of the huge windows taking up almost the entire surface of one of the walls. She glanced outside and opened her mouth in disbelief. Even from such distance, it wasn't difficult to spot a lot of Muggle policemen walking around, securing the perimeter of the crime scene and a crowd of people who wanted to find out what had happened.

"You're not particularly observant, are you?" the man said and this time, she couldn't stop herself from clenching her fists, while she stared him down. "One could think that you might have been able to spot a crime scene from such a distance, but it turns out that…"

"Shut it," she said, interrupting him before he could have finished his sentence. "I don't fancy the idea of having to work with a sexist jerk, but I'm not going to throw away my career just because of your stupidity. So instead of pissing me off, let's get to work, shall we?"

With that, she stood up and drank the rest of her coffee, leaving some money on the table as a tip for the waitress.

"Have a nice day," she said to her and left the cafeteria like a raging storm.


As soon as she had crossed the street, she started to look around in order to find her boss. To her surprise, Deschamps wasn't alone as he stood over a body talking to no one else, but Harry Potter. Clarisse couldn't help but feel a rush of adrenaline shooting through her entire body and decided that there was no time to waste.

She hurried over to her boss, not even bothering to check if Finley followed her. Honestly, she couldn't care less for that baboon. With a scowl, she reached her destination and said:

"Auror Potter, Auror Deschamps."

The first one offered her a gentle smile, while her boss looked at her with amusement.

"I take it your date didn't go too well, huh?"

He gestured towards Herbert, who was standing on the other side of the crime scene, talking to Auror Ashworth.

It certainly seemed as though everyone from their little international team was here. Everyone except from Fabre.

"Uh, yeah. Where's Antoine?" she asked, completely dismissing her boss' question about that feral meeting with the Forensic Expert.

"Hell if I know," Ludovic said with annoyance and Clarisse raised her eyebrows with amusement. "I sent for him twenty minutes ago and he's still…"

At this moment, Fabre started to make his way through the crowd, looking positively… well, wasted. Riss smiled brilliantly, watching his figure approach them. Even the fact that Finley decided to finally join them couldn't spoil her suddenly great mood.

"Auror Potter, Auror Deschamps, Auror Finley," Antoine greeted everyone apart from her, as he must have noticed her grin full of amusement.

"Hello, Antoine, nice to see you too. You look dashing today. Mm, and that smell! I almost mistook you for a distillery," she chirped happily and everyone except for Fabre snorted at her words.

Clarisse was incredibly surprised that Finley decided to appreciate her little joke as well, but she discarded it as a temporary lack of judgement on his part.

"Shut up, Riss. Shall I remind you of the last time you came to work completely hungover?" he replied and the woman rolled her eyes.

"You what?" Deschamps asked in a very angry tone and she was forced to glare at Fabre for getting her in trouble.

To everyone's surprise, Harry Potter giggled and the attention switched to him, as he cleared his throat with a slight hue of pink covering his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, it's just… Um… You know."

Her boss offered the younger Auror a look full of disapproval and shook his head.

"Why don't we simply focus on our victim here?"

Everyone nodded and started to examine the body, but Clarisse couldn't stop smiling wickedly, as she noticed Fabre's scrunched up nose. Apparently, dead people didn't mix well with hangovers.

"Why wasn't I invited to the party?" she whispered to him and he gave her an annoyed look.

"I didn't want to spoil your date with Herbert," her colleague said with a vicious smile and Riss stopped smiling almost instantly.

"It wasn't a date. I think I have finally managed to scare him off for good."

"All it took was one meeting one on one, huh?" the man snorted and smirked. "At least it confirmed my theory that you're a hag."

She stomped on his foot with force, as he groaned out in pain switching everyone's attention back to them. Clarisse smiled sweetly and gestured towards the body lying in the pool of blood, matching the killer's modus operandi from his previous murders.

"I guess it's our man again, huh?" she said and everyone nodded grimly.

"Everything matches. The victim's young, seemingly healthy. There are no signs of struggle, no bruising… Apart from those two wounds on her neck, there's nothing wrong with her," Finley explained and Clarisse snorted.

"Except from her being dead, that is," she clarified with a smirk, earning herself a glare from the Irishman and another giggle from Potter.

"Thanks for pointing out the obvious, Clarisse," Aedan shook his head with annoyance and she shrugged.

"No problem, Aedan. I thought you might have needed it."

"Will you stop it?!" her boss shouted and rubbed his forehead. "This cooperation was supposed to help, not be a pain in the arse."

At that moment, Mark Ashworth decided to join them, smiling widely. To Clarisse's surprise, he looked right at her and it became clear that his little talk with Herbert couldn't have been strictly professional.

"Hello everyone," he greeted them cheerfully, while Riss' gaze travelled to Herbert involuntarily.

The Forensic Expert was staring at her with a sad smile and she realised that from his perspective, her behaviour must have looked completely disrespectful. Their meeting had ended on a rather bad note and here she was, joking around and laughing. Not to mention that technically they were all standing over a dead body. Jokes and light-headedness were quite inappropriate in a situation like this one.

"Did you learn anything?" Deschamps asked right away, not caring to reply to Ashworth's polite greeting.

"Oh, yes," the Englishman chuckled in response, his gaze still fixed on Clarisse, to everyone's amusement.

Simply great. She had just become an internal joke.

"I meant the crime, Auror Ashworth," her boss said in a stern tone, making Clarisse incredibly grateful.

Not that she would ever admit to that, especially not with Finley standing right next to her and grinning like a baboon.

"By the looks of it, nothing changed. Herbert confirmed that the killer must have used the exact same knife to cut the victim's neck and the magical trace is identical to every other crime scene. I don't think we can learn anything new out here," he shook his head slowly, as his smile faltered a bit.

Clarisse looked at the woman on the ground and frowned. Why couldn't the killer simply make a mistake? It didn't even have to be big. They had a great team, even something small would have sufficed. She crouched down, staring at those two neat cuts as a nauseating feeling rushed through her body, forcing her to shiver.

She didn't even know why she chose to extend her hand towards the wound but as soon as she did, she felt as though someone knocked the breath out of her lungs with a very powerful, evil spell. Clarisse gasped and jerked her hand back, making everyone stare at her with baffled expressions.

"What is it, Riss?" Fabre asked and lowered himself to her position, trying to find a source of her sudden reaction.

"I… I don't know," she said in response and frowned, not being able to stop the nauseous feeling still coursing through her body.

"I just got a bad feeling, is all," she mumbled more to herself, than everyone else and it made them even more suspicious.

Clarisse stood up rapidly and drew in a deep breath as the nauseating feeling finally left her body. She took a step back from the victim and frowned, not being able to find even one explanation for anything that happened in those last couple of minutes.

Suddenly, a memory of her mother's dark eyes appeared in her mind and she shivered, as her hand travelled to the Merlinite resting safely between her breasts. She had never been one to act all crazy and psychic, but … Clarisse had a suspicion that she just learned what her mother had been talking about. And she didn't like it one bit.