"Nomira, it's been a long time."
Snape turned toward the elderly lady, inclining his head in acknowledgment.
"Time does fly, Severus."
The elderly witch smiled warmly at Orli, her words carrying not a trace of malice:
"Your lovely young companion is quite... youthful."
"Nomira..." Snape's tone held weary resignation. "She's my student."
"Don't forget what my family's hereditary gift entails, Severus." The old lady's eyes sparkled with mischief, her gaze dancing meaningfully between Orli and Snape. "Destiny has such a wonderful way of bringing lovers together."
Snape's expression became utterly unreadable, while Orli felt her cheeks burn with mortifying heat. The elderly witch departed with a knowing smile, arm in arm with her companion.
Almost immediately, another figure approached—a man in his fifties whose face wore an unpleasantly oily smile.
"Snape."
His voice carried that same repulsive, slick quality, and his gaze raked over Orli's face with deliberate rudeness:
"So this is our Witch Weekly heroine?"
"Solander Prince," Snape replied, ice crystallizing in his voice, "you'd better watch your tongue."
Orli's heart lurched. Prince?
"Technically, you should address me as 'uncle'—though you hardly deserve such courtesy." Prince spoke with mock civility, his smile razor-thin. "Still, one would expect you to know basic manners. Though you can only bear that disgusting Muggle surname, finding a Waters to gild yourself with—you do possess a certain cunning. Deep down, you're just like the rest of us, aren't you? Someone who cares about bloodlines and family prestige. If you'd known this day would come, why be so stubborn all those years ago?"
Snape lifted his chin, contempt blazing in his dark eyes:
"If your pathetic excuse for a brain hasn't been completely rotted by cocaine, you'd easily realize—Waters stands here tonight not because of her surname."
"Ha." Prince's laugh was pure mockery. "Say whatever helps you sleep at night."
He turned and melted back into the crowd.
"Professor... he..." Orli began hesitantly. She couldn't care less about his opinion of her, but he was a Prince...
"My mother was once a Prince," Snape said curtly. "After her marriage, she severed all ties with them." He studied Orli's face, then added more gently: "Most people are deplorably shallow—they judge others by surnames, bloodlines, status, age. You needn't waste a moment's thought on their opinions."
Orli stared at him in surprise. She'd been preparing to offer comfort for whatever unpleasantness Prince had stirred up, but here was Snape, consoling her instead.
"Severus! Long time no see, old friend!"
A young wizard approached from across the courtyard, roughly Snape's age but appearing more youthful. His light-colored robes gleamed like silk, his hair perfectly pomaded into submission. He spread his arms wide in greeting, but Snape simply extended one hand, intercepting the attempted embrace with a firm handshake.
"A handshake will suffice."
Snape's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I take it this is Miss Waters?" The young wizard's enthusiasm was infectious. "Merlin's beard, she's remarkably young. If those ancient Prince patriarchs—still squabbling over family leadership in their eighties and nineties—could see her, they'd probably expire from sheer indignation. You must be the youngest family head in Waters history."
He extended a manicured hand toward Orli, his smile genuinely warm.
Author's Note: Nomira Gitano represents a lineage of Romani witches gifted in divination, though their methods differ significantly from the Trelawney family tradition. Where the Trelawneys excel in prophecy and general foresight, Nomira's bloodline specializes in matters of the heart—reading romantic destinies and the intricate threads of love. Naturally, this is entirely my own invention.
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