Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling, of course.
A/N: This story is set after a few years after Deathly Hallows. I'm just giving you a taste for now.
A well-dressed couple suddenly appeared in Diagon Alley. Passersby barely noticed their appearance, carrying on as if it wasn't anything new. Before they continued to their destination, the woman played with her ruffled skirt on her red dress in an attempt of supposedly fixing it. Her male companion wore a look of impatience as he looked on, but was clearly doing his best to keep his annoyance hidden from her. With her skirt fixed to her liking once more, the couple quickly headed down the cobblestone street, her heels clicking against it prior to them ducking into a nearby restaurant. The woman smiled towards the maître d', who had immediately looked up when they entered.
"Good evening. Welcome to Sheer. Your names?" inquired the maître d'.
"Severus Snape," replied the tall, raven-haired man. "I placed my reservations a year ago. Therefore, you should have no trouble finding it."
The headwaiter forced a polite smile. "Of course, sir." He then glanced down at his book, looking back up a moment later. "If you'll follow me, then." He grabbed two menus and proceeded towards a table in back. "We have some fabulous items that I think you'll—"
"Thank you. That will be all for now," Severus stated coldly. He pointedly ignored the waiter's huff of annoyance before the man left.
"He was just doing his job, love," his wife said softly.
"Yes, and it was rather inadequate in my opinion," he commented, opening his menu and looking it over. "If I had wanted someone to drone on about their so-called specials, I'd have asked. Not be forced to listen to mindless drivel and have our time wasted needlessly." He frowned as his eyes passed over their choices. The few that there were. His frown deepened. For what he had paid just for his reservation, he would have thought the blasted restaurant would have at least a wide range of options. Clearly that was not the case.
"Severus?" He glanced at her over the lowered menu reluctantly. "Stop. It's perfect. I love it." She smiled, holding her hand out across the table for him. "Thank you." She squeezed his hand a moment later, rubbing her thumb gently against the back of his hand.
He felt himself relax slightly. He had wanted everything to be perfect for their anniversary. The stupid thing didn't really mean all that much to him, but he knew it did to her. He glanced back at his menu and sighed silently.
"Have you found anything yet?" he asked quietly.
"Well, their chicken salad sounds pretty good."
He held her warm brown eyes for a moment. "You have to be joking, Aurora." Annoyance flashed in his black eyes when she didn't respond. "I could have taken you to the Leaky Cauldron for that." And saved himself a paycheck or two.
"Fine." She twirled a curl around her finger as she looked over the menu. "What about the duck? Is that good enough?"
"Depends," he replied, taking a drink of his water. "Are you going to eat it or just pick at it like last time?" While he wanted her to enjoy their anniversary dinner, he also wanted her to eat. She had an annoying habit of either eating light or picking at her food whenever they went out to dinner.
"I don't know." She shrugged. "What are you going to have?"
"Rack of lamb," he answered, noticing her grimace instantly. "I didn't say you had to eat it."
"Fine." She sighed. "What about fettuccine Alfredo?"
"Pasta?" He scoffed. "I might as well have made you dinner at home," he remarked.
"Well, I don't know, then, Severus." She huffed, reaching for her water and taking a sip.
He could feel the anger radiating off her. He let the silence surround them, taking a moment to collect himself and figure out his next move. He truly didn't want her pissed off with him on their anniversary. He glanced at the menu on the table, quickly trying to find a safe option—one that would be a good compromise for both of them.
"I believe they had some sort of grilled chicken option."
"Is it fine or are you saying 'fine' to shut me up, Aurora?" He held her eyes again.
"It's fine. Grilled chicken sounds wonderful." Her heart clearly wasn't in it, though.
He sighed, tossing down his napkin. He needed to get away before he said something truly spiteful towards her. He caught her look of surprise instantly.
"If the idiot returns while I'm away, please order for me," he requested, standing up to leave.
"All right," she said quietly, clearly apologetic as she fiddled with her necklace.
Without another word, he walked away from the table and headed for the restrooms. Why couldn't she eat normally when they went out to dinner? It wasn't as if he would have remarked that she was going to get fat or cost him too much money for indulging. Granted, he wasn't good around women, but he wasn't that bad. He knew better than to ever say either thing.
He pushed open the door and walked into the restroom. Heading for the sink, he turned it on and splashed his face with cold water. A moment later, he hung his head. What difference did it truly make what she ate when they went out to dinner? At least she ate something. He then glanced at his reflection, his eyes darting to his trouser pocket.
His hand reached into his pocket before he pulled out a velvet box. He opened it soon after, glancing at the beautiful emerald-and-diamond bracelet inside. The familiar worries rushed to the forefront of his mind again. Would she even like it? Would she think it was too much? Would it even fit her wrist? He sighed, closing the box once more. He wanted everything to be perfect tonight. Yet, when it didn't go exactly according to his plan, he jumped down her throat about her food choice. It didn't matter what she ate. All that mattered was that they were there together. It was just a dinner. The bracelet was the treat, not that.
He shook his head slowly. Merlin, he was an idiot. He slid the box back into his pocket and turned to leave. He had a dinner to attend. He took a step towards the door.
Something pierced him in the back seconds later, causing him to tense up instinctively. He gasped at the initial sharp pain before everything quickly numbed. There was a toxin of some kind coated on the blade. Paralytic, he decided as he felt himself falling to his knees, his attacker slowly lowering him to the ground. His eyes darted towards the mirror, but no one was there. He felt the darkness rapidly settle in behind his eyes. His last thoughts were about his wife and daughter.