Chapter Six

A/N: I've no idea how to begin this; it's been months since Sage was updated. I sincerely apologize to everyone for the wait; I had an exceedingly difficult semester at uni, and studies must come first. Hopefully this next semester will offer me a bit more time; I cannot promise regular updates, but one of my New Years resolutions is to write every day, so Sage will certainly be seeing more attention.

That said, I'd like to offer a huge barrel of hugs to the much beloved Shug, who is beta, cheerleader, and fangirl wrapped up into one beautifully delightful, irreplaceable package.

*

Three Weeks Later: Thursday

"Shit!" she screeched, as her coffee cup fell to the floor with a sickening crack. She groaned, reached for her wand, and neatly stitched the scattered pottery back together in two seconds flat. The cup quickly flew back into her hand, and she reached for the coffee pot just as it reached the two-cup mark. She smiled widely. Perfect timing, all things considered. Save the minor spill, it was shaping up to be a very good day.

*

Twenty minutes later, Hermione was walking out of her flat and across L'Rue Sauge. There was an extra bounce to her walk – coffee cup in hand, hair suitably coiffed, she felt better than she had all week. She'd presented her first major project in front of Pierre and the entire board of directors for the organization she'd worked with on Monday morning, and she'd been nauseous the whole time. In fact, the entire weekend had only been a gradual climb in tiredness and nausea, with several headaches to boot. Monday's presentation had only gone well with the assistance of an overpriced potion which was a combination of Nausea Suppressant, Energy Draught, Flu-Be-Gone, and Headache Reliever. Hermione could have brewed it herself had she been feeling better. The potion, however, had reacted badly with her breakfast that day – thus the nausea during the presentation – and after the meeting she had practically thrown up her stomach in the first floor bathroom. Pierre had followed her in and demanded that she rest.

The fact that he was the one who had her working sixty hours a week was not her fault, though she had admittedly chosen to put that many hours in her projects. And her body had still been in distress from the emotional exhaustion of the trip to Paris in the first place.

Speaking of which, she had not thought of Severus Snape in a full week. She shook her head dazedly as she turned off onto another street. She had to remember to keep trying to track him, but with all the work she was doing, that had already fallen by the wayside.

If you're not here for Snape, then why are you here? she asked herself. She shook the thought away angrily, an action expressed physically through the sudden sharp, hard clicks of her low heels against the cobblestone street. The truth was, she enjoyed her work. She enjoyed her co-workers... some of them, at least. She had yet to find a good friend, and she mostly worked with men. That wasn't necessarily a problem, but she would almost feel too much like she was trying to... replace... Harry and Ron.

Harry and Ron...

She walked faster, breathing a bit heavier, and exhaled sharply with relief upon seeing the tall building looming ahead of her.

Bureau d'Enquêtes et de Recherches Privée

Pierre Caron, Esq.

The black and silver print beckoned her, and she quickly walked inside.

*

Hermione was just settling in her office when Pierre stepped in the open doorway. He had a broad smile on his face. "I see you're doing much better," he said, hands in his pockets as he leaned against the frame. "That is good. The Poulin family was very happy with your presentation, Hermione," he added, his tone still fatherly but a bit more formal. "I was impressed as well, all things considered." The corners of his mouth turned up slightly.

She suppressed a chuckle and leaned forward on her desk, resting her elbows on the desktop with her hands tightly clasped. "I am glad," she said, a genuine smile on her face. "It was a fascinating proposal."

"Yes, well, next time, try not to suppress illness for so long, oui?" Pierre asked, eyebrows arched.

"Yes, sir," Hermione said, suppressing a smirk. What the bloody hell else am I supposed to do on the day of a massive presentation?

Pierre paused. "And try not to send your thoughts so clearly across the room, as well. Have you ever considered Occlumency?"

Hermione gripped her pen harder. "Yes, sir," she thought. Severus. She shut that thought out of her head quickly, and shook her head. "I should get to work."

"Ah, yes. Many new projects today, and it profits me little if I distract my employees," Pierre chuckled. "It is good to know you are better." And with that, he nodded politely and exited her doorway.

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. "Severus," she whispered. Damn it, Hermione, she told herself, get to work.

*

A few hours later

"So if the property of six hundred is... and then... hmm, that can't be right," she muttered to herself. Hermione was hunched over her desk, elbows resting on the table, while her fingers rubbed her temples vigorously. She was fairly certain that she was going to stare a hole through the paper and her desk, but she didn't care. She leaned back in her chair and swirled around, her thumb and forefinger swinging her pencil around in an agitation that easily belied the kinetic energy coursing through her system. She hadn't felt this alive in weeks... ever since she'd left for Paris.

"Okay, focus," she muttered, leaning over her desk again, looking at her calculations, reviewing the assignment in her head. "If the riot happens, which points will be the most vulnerable for attack..."

"Hermione?"

Her head shot up and looked at the man standing in the doorway. He looked entirely too large to be in her office; everything was small, and he was blatantly conspicuous: tall, hulking, with a head like a bullet.

Not her type. How many times did she have to turn him down for him to get the point?

Louis. Dear Lord. She took a deep breath in and composed her countenance.

"It's past eleven o'clock, Hermione," he repeated with a wide smile and grinning, lascivious-looking eyes. "Do you want to come to lunch with me?"

"I'd rather you spoke French, Louis," she said edgily, trying desperately to be polite. "I need to practice French more than you need to show off your English."

Louis guffawed and fixed her again with his stubborn gaze. "You really need to come to lunch. You don't want to overwork yourself, do you?"

You don't know the Bat-Bogey Hex. You don't know the Bat-Bogey Hex, she repeated to herself as her fingers clenched around the pen, which, come to think of it, was looking relatively pointed...

Louis had seen fit to situate himself in her doorway and attempt to intimidate her with that predatory gaze every Thursday since she'd been here, which meant that this was the third Thursday he'd propositioned her for lunch. The first week she'd been late to meet Pierre for her first assignment, so she'd been able to quickly escape. Last week she had feigned illness – well, it wasn't too feigned – and asked for a rain check.

Which had clearly been a big mistake – a massive mistake, actually – since here he was, back for his rain check, looking more imposing than ever. How she going to get rid of him without getting fired in the process was beyond her...

"Hermione?" he asked expectantly, tilting his head, looking slightly amused and very annoyed. "Come with me." He stuck out a hand stubbornly.

She could have sworn she literally growled. Calm, calm, count to ten, count to ten...

"Louis..." Hermione began firmly but was abruptly cut off when she saw a flying purse come out of nowhere and hit Louis in the head. Hard.

"Merde!" he yelled, doubling over, clutching his head.

"Trou du cul! Can't leave the women alone, can you, filthy chien? You are on probation for harassment and you still prey on the new girl?" a voice said loudly. Hermione finally saw the attacker when long, sinewy arms and flying ebony hair came into view and pushed Louis down to the ground just outside of Hermione's doorway.

Hermione gaped in shock – the woman was all of five feet, maybe a little more, but she looked long, thin, and absolutely terrifying. She was angry, clearly powerful, and was clad in a black sheath and three-inch stilettos.

"Bitch," Louis ground out, but the woman drew her wand and with one swipe had him flying down the hallway. Hermione heard the great glass doors at the entrance slam shut, presumably behind him.

The woman shook her long mane of hair out behind her back and turned in the doorway to face Hermione.

"Not a friend of yours, I hope?" she asked, leaning against the wood, quirking an eyebrow.

Hermione managed to pull her jaw up and took in the sight before her. The woman was fair-skinned, with fine bone structure and piercing, vibrant violet eyes that shot to the core of a person. The energy radiating off her was electrifying.

"Decidedly not," Hermione said, laughter giving way to the shock. "That was absolutely incredible. Will you get fired for it?" Sudden concern welled up in her.

The woman laughed. "Of course not. Louis has a reputation in this company. I'll tell Pierre, and that will be the straw that gets his, as you English say, bloody arse fired."

"He wasn't that bad yet," Hermione said, guilt washing over her.

"Trust me, he would have been. Doesn't know when to stop, doesn't know the word 'no' – you know the type. Pierre has a three-strike system for sexual harassment, and this was the third one."

"I wouldn't call it..." Hermione said.

"Has he done this before?" the woman asked, standing straight in the doorway with her hands on her hips.

"Yes." Hermione slumped her shoulders.

She paused. "I see. You're Hermione Granger, correct?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Yes," Hermione said. "Pierre just hired me."

"That man has been singing your praises." She gave a wide smile, her eyes sparkling. "I'm Cosette, by the way. Cosette Bedard," she said, walking across Hermione's office and extended her hand.

Hermione shook it gratefully. "And how did you know Louis would be here?"

Cosette smoothed the front of her sheath and Summoned a chair from the wall, positioning it next to Hermione.

"Things get around," she said, sitting. "We're a quiet company, not too much interpersonal work, you know, everything's confidential so you're working solo or in a small group, but the chap next door to you is a friend of mine and mentioned that Louis had been by a few times."

"And he's tried this with other women?"

"Two others, and me," Cosette said.

"But you said three-strike," Hermione started, trying to keep up with the woman's abounding energy. Her hair was still flying, it was so charged from its earlier burst of energy.

"Pierre didn't count his encounter with me." Cosette grinned.

"Why?"

"Because I shoved him up against a wall, slapped him upside the head, and told him that if he ever tried that again he'd have little left identifying him as a man."

"What happened?" Hermione asked, laughing, entirely curious.

"Louis laughed, so I smacked him harder and told him that unless he avoided me, I'd sic my boyfriend on him."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "What does your boyfriend do?"

"He's a boring Ministry bureaucrat by day who does contract chemical work for the Muggle government by night," Cosette said, smiling. "I'm very proud of him."

"That is fantastic," Hermione said, chuckling. "He's Muggle-born, then?"

"Yes," Cosette said with a slight bristle. Hermione gave an amused smile; the woman had no need to fear Muggle intolerance from her. Not that Cosette knew that.

"I'm Muggle-born as well; no need for theatrics," she said grinning, spinning her chair from side to side. "I just love the idea of combining Muggle academic theory with wizard practice."

Cosette grinned widely. "You should meet him," she said, pensive. "And I do believe you're late to lunch, as Louis so eloquently pointed out, so I'll take you. My treat." She stood, sent the chair flying back against Hermione's wall with a thud.

I need to take lessons from this woman. "How have I not met you before?" Hermione asked. "I've been here for three weeks, and I haven't met many people, but where on earth have they been keeping you?" she asked incredulously.

"I've been in Cancun, Mexico with Henri. I had some work to do there, he had to present at a conference, and we turned the last week of it into an excellent vacation," Cosette said with a wicked grin. "The Mexicans know their liquor, let me tell you. Outstanding. I'm thinking of doing a girl's Margarita night during one of the company lunch hours next week."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "A Margarita night during the lunch hour?"

"Oh, a theme lunch, you know. Theme decorations, lots of ice, lots of lime; get this place loosened up, oui? It'll be fabulous, darling. Of course, no one would work for the rest of the day, but that's forgivable. Maybe next Friday. I'll talk to Pierre," Cosette said as she and Hermione walked out of the office.

"And what do you do here?" Hermione asked, clipping her flyaway hair back.

"Oh, I'm the Sales Director, which is a boring way of saying I do the recruiting, the schmoozing, and the boozing," Cosette said as they arrived at the front doors of Caron Investigations, pushing the doors out into the wide open sun of the Parisian streets.

Hermione laughed, as she had no idea what else to do. Cosette lightly touched her arm.

"Are you alright with Side-Along? There's this fabulous little place in Capois; you'll love it." Cosette shot a lightning-brilliant smile to Hermione.

Hermione's mind was reeling. Capois...

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Cosette asked, now concerned.

"Yes," Hermione said quickly, brushing a curl from her face. "Yes, I'm alright with Side-Along. Sounds great."

"Well hold on," Cosette said with a wicked smile, and grasped Hermione's arm. "Capois, here we come."

Pop!

*

Rough translations: merde is shit, trou du cul is asshole, and chien is dog. Filthy language, I know. Is it too cliche to say pardon my French? ;-)

This was a short chapter, but longer ones are to come. :-)