She was tall, dark and willowy. Her long, black hair was half-pulled back with a French clip, the rest falling down her back in a sleek waterfall. Her features were sharp and angular, Hermione was fairly certain she could grate cheese on the woman's jawbone. A perfect coal-black brow was arched high above startlingly dark eyes. She wore traditional dark Auror's robes over a finely tailored black pantsuit, the shining pin of the Magical Law Enforcement department glistened against the dark material. She was so very striking, this woman. Her jet-black hair shocked against her pale skin as she raised a hand to brush back a stray lock.
Her carefully manicured fingers drummed a steady rhythm against the wood grain of the table. Hermione sat across from her, a guard a short way down the corridor, prepared to intervene. She had been let out of her cell for a meeting with the woman and Snape. He had sent a letter down with a messenger claiming that he had recruited help. That he would not let her see the inside of another cell and the farce of a trial would not end with her sentence.
Her heart had fluttered at his promise. Severus Snape never broke a promise.
Yet, the younger witch could not help but think back to the photograph in the Daily Prophet. Of this woman with her arm threaded through Snape's, a bright smile on her face as she laughed about something. He had smiled down at her, his own quiet and hardly discernable, though on the stoic Potions' Master, it could be considered a full-on grin. The woman's brow raised further up her forehead as she observed the curly-haired Gryffindor. "I quite like that photo of me," she commented, her eyes narrowing. A legilimens.
Merlin, what else did they have in common?
The man in question swept into the room, his hand brushing across the woman's shoulders. He leant down and pressed his lips to the crown of her head as he sat. Hermione's heart squeezed at the simple, affectionate gesture and Snape's head shot up, his eyes catching hers. Something fleeting passed through his gaze, though it was gone before she could identify it.
He cast a quiet muffliato and glanced about the corridor. He waved a hand between the two women. "Miss Granger, surely you remember Auror Sterope Shafiq? She was a key witness in my trial regarding the collection of evidence.
"Senior Auror," she corrected, her eyebrow shooting back up her face as she eyed him with distaste. "Honestly, Severus, would you appreciate my belittling of your title? I should think not." she chastised.
He dipped his head in response. "Of course, I apologise." He replied smoothly, staring her down the way he would a disobeying student.
Hermione could not help but wonder what exactly the terms of their relationship were. The ease with which they interacted with one another indicated they knew each other intimately, and that they had been close for a number of years. The way he had swooped down to caress her led one to believe that they were affectionate with one another, though the way she spoke to him was more reminiscent of a very old friend... or a scorned mother.
He turned his attention to the young woman before him and cleared his throat. "Right, well, there is no point in dawdling," he declared. "I asked Senior Auror Shafiq to look into your case. See what can be done regarding the trial and the following steps."
The woman lay a hand on his arm, patting him lightly. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but the man seemed tense and flinched beneath her touch. "They mean to ask him to testify against you. Seeing as you are the only two people to have been present during that time, they need his testimony to condemn you. Your admission to healing a dying man alone cannot send you to Azkaban."
The junior undersecretary frowned. "I don't understand why they want to send me away at all. They've bent the rules in the past, this is ridiculous."
Sterope shrugged, a delicate lift of her shoulders. "Exactly, Miss Granger. They have bent the rules in the past. They do not want to be seen making that choice again to benefit any rule-breaking. I hear you were quite the rulebreaker yourself, even before the war. Surely, you can understand the need for their iron grip on the law."
Hermione flushed. Gods, just how much did this witch know about her? "So what do we do?"
Snape swallowed thickly, his dark gaze falling on her again. She froze, his onyx eyes drinking her in. She had the uncanny sense that he was looking right through her as the following words left his mouth. "We marry, of course."
