Supposed Crime
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Eh, all right, Megan's at Marching Band Camp or something like that and even though she wrote the next chapter to Your Holy Dark (the third one's written already, which is the one I wrote), I got antsy and decided to add on to Supposed Crime. If you haven't already, check out the prequel to this story--Your Holy Dark. It's under this pen name (LanaMariah).
Thanks,
Aimée
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Floor 36th, Hallway 24, Room 1022.
How the bloody hell was I ever going to figure out where that particular corner was?
As I wandered the 36th floor of the Ministry, I noticed quite a few things; first of all, not a single soul seemed to be occupied in anything except for Potions. There were doctors carefully measuring beakers full of smoking liquids, interns holding glad vials in their shaking hands as they made their way down the maze of hallways as quickly as humanly possible without failing at their task and allowing the vials to drop, and witches and wizards attending bubbling cauldrons.
These were my students now.
With a smile that didn't reach my eyes, I wondered exactly how many of those running around on this particular floor I had taught in the years before. Surely anyone under the age of forty had once been subjected to my harsh and cruel manner—something I wasn't willing to give up quite yet.
"Severus Snape?"
I was jolted out of my thoughts as a gray-haired witch with an extraordinary amount of wrinkles stepped in front of me, her black eyes squinting up at me through thick horn-rimmed glasses.
"Yes?" I asked coldly, slightly offended in her bored tone.
"Your office is this way—follow me," the witch croaked, waving her right hand in a way that told me to follow her limping strides.
Soon she led me to a rather spacious office, complete with no less than five places for various cauldrons and experiments to sit, along with a long oak desk and a high-backed chair—and a window looking out into the streets of London below.
It had been years since any room of mine had had a window as grand as the one set before me.
"After you have become acquainted with the staff on your floor, you shall be allowed to choose one as a personal assistant, if he or she agrees. If you wish to change any rules or regulations, you must first gain approval from the Ministry Board, and then you shall be required to give the staff a five-business-days notice." The old witch sniffed and glanced up at me once more, her gaze heavy and harsh. "Your secretary is right outside your doors. Do you have any questions?"
"No," I said equally as harsh. "You are excused."
With a glare shot my way, the old witch hobbled out of the room, clutching a clipboard in her old gnarled hands. After she had closed the heavy double doors leading into my office, I breathed a sigh of relief and immediately went to sit down in my glorious leather high-backed chair, admiring my office.
The novelty of the situation wore off rather quickly, and in an attempt to gain some of the luster back, I set off to enjoy the hustle and bustle of the laboratory.
It took me only a minute to find the large, warm room, in which no less than thirty long counters ran the length of the room, with a five-foot aisle cut down the middle. Seated at each section of the room was a witch or wizard—admittedly, mostly wizards—in a long white coat, distinguishing them from the rest of the floor and Ministry.
Slowly, I made my way around the room, surveying the various experiments that were being done. I was blown away by the level of Excellency of my crew; I could find nary a single thing wrong. However, as I stepped in the third-to-last row, I noticed the potion was omitting a surprising number of bubbles—an amount that was no doubt fatal to the potion.
"You may think about adding a pinch or two of munkswood root to your potion, if you're bent on saving it." My tone was neither harsh nor helpful, rather it took on a placid wave of indifference.
"Always the teacher, eh Professor?" the witch at the table smirked, nevertheless following my suggestion.
I took a good look at the face in front of me with the knowledge I should know who the once-student was sitting in front of me. However, after a searching gaze over her tan skin and dark features, I drew a blank.
"You don't recognize me, do you?" Her voice was strong, but laced with hurt she obviously wanted to stay hidden.
I shook my head, giving her a slightly apologetic shrug. "I've taught thousands of students in my lifetime, Miss. I'm afraid I can't remember each and every one of them."
She grinned, showing off a mouthful of bright white teeth. "Do you sleep with so many of them that you can't even remember a face you once woke up to—multiple mornings in a row?"
I leaned forward slightly in astonishment, the pit of my stomach suddenly turning to ice. After a moment of silent comparison, I suddenly made the connection I had failed to see before.
Despite the now-magically straightened hair and the fuller form, along with higher cheekbones and an adult face, I was able to see subtle similarities—only subtle, mind you—between the girl I once taught and the woman standing before me.
"Hermione?"
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---
Eh, all right, Megan's at Marching Band Camp or something like that and even though she wrote the next chapter to Your Holy Dark (the third one's written already, which is the one I wrote), I got antsy and decided to add on to Supposed Crime. If you haven't already, check out the prequel to this story--Your Holy Dark. It's under this pen name (LanaMariah).
Thanks,
Aimée
---
Floor 36th, Hallway 24, Room 1022.
How the bloody hell was I ever going to figure out where that particular corner was?
As I wandered the 36th floor of the Ministry, I noticed quite a few things; first of all, not a single soul seemed to be occupied in anything except for Potions. There were doctors carefully measuring beakers full of smoking liquids, interns holding glad vials in their shaking hands as they made their way down the maze of hallways as quickly as humanly possible without failing at their task and allowing the vials to drop, and witches and wizards attending bubbling cauldrons.
These were my students now.
With a smile that didn't reach my eyes, I wondered exactly how many of those running around on this particular floor I had taught in the years before. Surely anyone under the age of forty had once been subjected to my harsh and cruel manner—something I wasn't willing to give up quite yet.
"Severus Snape?"
I was jolted out of my thoughts as a gray-haired witch with an extraordinary amount of wrinkles stepped in front of me, her black eyes squinting up at me through thick horn-rimmed glasses.
"Yes?" I asked coldly, slightly offended in her bored tone.
"Your office is this way—follow me," the witch croaked, waving her right hand in a way that told me to follow her limping strides.
Soon she led me to a rather spacious office, complete with no less than five places for various cauldrons and experiments to sit, along with a long oak desk and a high-backed chair—and a window looking out into the streets of London below.
It had been years since any room of mine had had a window as grand as the one set before me.
"After you have become acquainted with the staff on your floor, you shall be allowed to choose one as a personal assistant, if he or she agrees. If you wish to change any rules or regulations, you must first gain approval from the Ministry Board, and then you shall be required to give the staff a five-business-days notice." The old witch sniffed and glanced up at me once more, her gaze heavy and harsh. "Your secretary is right outside your doors. Do you have any questions?"
"No," I said equally as harsh. "You are excused."
With a glare shot my way, the old witch hobbled out of the room, clutching a clipboard in her old gnarled hands. After she had closed the heavy double doors leading into my office, I breathed a sigh of relief and immediately went to sit down in my glorious leather high-backed chair, admiring my office.
The novelty of the situation wore off rather quickly, and in an attempt to gain some of the luster back, I set off to enjoy the hustle and bustle of the laboratory.
It took me only a minute to find the large, warm room, in which no less than thirty long counters ran the length of the room, with a five-foot aisle cut down the middle. Seated at each section of the room was a witch or wizard—admittedly, mostly wizards—in a long white coat, distinguishing them from the rest of the floor and Ministry.
Slowly, I made my way around the room, surveying the various experiments that were being done. I was blown away by the level of Excellency of my crew; I could find nary a single thing wrong. However, as I stepped in the third-to-last row, I noticed the potion was omitting a surprising number of bubbles—an amount that was no doubt fatal to the potion.
"You may think about adding a pinch or two of munkswood root to your potion, if you're bent on saving it." My tone was neither harsh nor helpful, rather it took on a placid wave of indifference.
"Always the teacher, eh Professor?" the witch at the table smirked, nevertheless following my suggestion.
I took a good look at the face in front of me with the knowledge I should know who the once-student was sitting in front of me. However, after a searching gaze over her tan skin and dark features, I drew a blank.
"You don't recognize me, do you?" Her voice was strong, but laced with hurt she obviously wanted to stay hidden.
I shook my head, giving her a slightly apologetic shrug. "I've taught thousands of students in my lifetime, Miss. I'm afraid I can't remember each and every one of them."
She grinned, showing off a mouthful of bright white teeth. "Do you sleep with so many of them that you can't even remember a face you once woke up to—multiple mornings in a row?"
I leaned forward slightly in astonishment, the pit of my stomach suddenly turning to ice. After a moment of silent comparison, I suddenly made the connection I had failed to see before.
Despite the now-magically straightened hair and the fuller form, along with higher cheekbones and an adult face, I was able to see subtle similarities—only subtle, mind you—between the girl I once taught and the woman standing before me.
"Hermione?"
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