Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

The Last 24 Hours of Severus Snape	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 17390 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing these stories.

Chapter List
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A/N: Thank you all for your comments. Rowena-Ravenclaw- your comments made me burst aloud because your anger is exactly how I know she is feeling, also partially how I feel. And I promise that while the ministry and Kingsley are completely ass-backward, there's a good reason behind it. The good reason is most likely that their cowardice bastards, but this story simply won't work without the concept of capital punishment in effect, as you'll see in later chapters. Thank you all again for your feedback, it gives me lots to think about as I progress.

For all intents and purposes anyone looking in on the scene would have assumed Hermione to be a statue for a stone still as she stood eyes fixed down on him. Several minutes had passed since he’d vocalized his request and his words had transfixed her to the spot in which she stood. Get in the bathtub? With him? The tub was certainly deep enough, long enough even, it would properly accommodate both of their bodies, she supposed, but he was naked. And she would have to be naked. The notion made her head spin.

            “I should think perhaps I ought to withdraw my request judging from your silence,” he said.

            This seemed to stir her from whatever heavy internal monologue was reciting inside of her mind. Hermione closed her eyes and smiled politely at him. “I was just trying to recall the last time I had actually taken a bath, Severus,” she said and then opened her eyes to gaze at him once more. “And it occurred to me that I honestly can’t say,” she shrugged her shoulders and then brought her fingers to the front of her blouse, untucking it from her trousers.

            Hermione tugged the green blouse up over her head and then stepped over to hang it on the hook where she had hung her robes. With her back facing him she undid the button and zip of her trousers and stepped out of them, hanging them up along with her blouse. Turning back to the tub she walked over and stood beside it, now clad only in a simple black bra and pair of black panties. They were ordinary panties; nothing fancy no lace or designs. They hugged her hips and rose up low covering what needed to be covered without looking old fashioned. The bra was the same, supporting her breasts simply without any frills or sparkles.

            Again she turned her back to him, her hands reaching around behind her to undo the clasp of her bra. Hermione could feel the gooseflesh arising up and down her arms as she slowly slid each strap down her shoulder and then let her bra fall forward, freeing her breasts. She laid it over the stool and then ever so slowly slid her panties down, stepping out of them allowing them to join her bra. Closing her eyes she turned back to the tub, unable to bring her eyes to see if he was watching her, and slipped one leg up over the high edge, and then the other until she slid down into its heated depths.

            The water was indeed comfortably hot as she sank down to her neck, her hair floating on the water in front of her, bubbles hiding her from him. While the tub was large it was not so large as to allow them not to touch. She felt his legs as her own settled against the bottom of the tub and she bit her lower lip, calming herself before she brushed a large mound of bubbles away to see him. “There,” she said with a sheepish smile. “Request granted.”

            Severus was gazing at her and she couldn’t help but wonder if he’d watched her slide out of her clothes, if he’d let his eyes roam over her body. She had never thought in a million years that she’d be showcasing so much of herself to the man; the man whom she respected and fought for above all. But there she sat in a hot bath of bubbles with her legs pressing against his, her feet resting lightly against the insides of his calves.

            They sat for sometime in silence, the soft pops of bubbles as they slowly began to escape the tub the only sound that permeated the room. It was his rich timbre; the sound that she had come to associate with him whenever he spoke that finally broke the silence. “This is indeed pleasant. I can understand why women are so keen to take one after a long or stressful day.”

            Hermione nodded her head in agreement. Too often she had neglected such practices, feeling as if her long and stressful days, compared to the misfortunes of others, did not warrant such a luxury. She let her hands float idly on the surface of the water, bubbles dancing along her skin as they continued to pop. “When I do bathe, I use oils, lavender, jasmine,” she said, her voice a soft caress to the silence of the room.

            “Calming scents,” he swept his arm across a large patch of bubbles, leveling a mountain so that little remained between them save for a thin layer. “I cannot say that I ever imagined sharing a bath with you,” he started, “Though it’s as good a place as any in my final hours to admit that I have always found your thirst for intelligence a striking quality that would serve you well in life.”

            She bowed her head and blushed. Compliments; true compliments that she actually believed when she heard them were rare. And to hear one from a man whom she respected above all others truly made her squirm with embarrassed pride. It was a strange sensation indeed; not only hearing him say such a flattering thing but to accept it knowing he would have no reason to lie nor was it in his character to give such praise. “Thank you,” she whispered and then slowly lifted her eyes up to look at him. “I’ve always thought of you as a prized intellectual from whom I could learn a great deal, Severus.”

            “How old are you?” he asked.

            Her lips quirked slightly to the side. An odd question, but she would deny him nothing. If for some reason he would ask for a play by play of her limited sexual history or for her to reveal the deepest secret about her person she would tell him without question. “Twenty-three now,” she said. “Well, twenty-four soon enough.”

            Severus shook his head. “And when the war was in full rage? The year you did not come back to Hogwarts you must have been eighteen?”

            “About that, perhaps a bit older, I never know how to account for the added time I lived during my third year when I used the time turner to attend extra classes, complete extra homework, and do extra studying,” she admitted.

            “Such a young woman to have already accomplished so much, returning to Hogwarts to finish your N.E.W.T.S. highest score in history in Muggle Studies and Transfiguration I understood, immediately accepted into the Ministry of Magic for the position which you currently hold and excelling at it as you have always excelled at everything in your life.”

            She could already feel the blush in her cheeks again. “I suppose it is.”

            “Someone to be admired, certainly. A sharp wit, a passion for your work, and you’ve a very keen sense of the emotions of others. Skilled in non-verbal magic by…was it sixth year if my memory serves me correctly?”

            Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, just listening to him, taking it all in. Her body felt at ease despite never having received so many compliments at once from anyone in her life, let alone a formidable man who was so closely cloistered away and guarded. To be hearing them all at one time, falling from his lips with ease as they did made her more fully aware of herself than she had ever been before. “Sixth year, yes I suppose—” she paused and then opened her eyes with a bit of a smirk upon her lips. “The year we had the only decent Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, aside from Lupin that is.”

            “One of the best, so I heard,” he said with a smirk of his own, reminding her much more of the snide man who stalked the halls of Hogwarts rather than the man who was resigned to the fate of his execution. “I daresay, Hermione, that you were the most accomplished witch of your age,” he admitted softly. “And you may feel free to tell anyone you wish that those were my words regarding your intellect as there shall be no threat that I might hex you for doing so. I’ve never complimented a student before, but I suppose I can tick that off my list now.”

            That made her heart sink. For a brief moment he had seemed so much like himself; the man who was not to be trifled with; the man who was to be feared and above all respected, to only once more be dashed back as the man who had no hope; who had no future. It made her cringe. This did not go unnoticed by him.

            “If my talking upsets you…” he started.

            “No,” she said and forced herself to smile. “I got a tingle in my spine, a twitch, happens sometimes,” she said and then leaned forward, drawing her knees up to rest her arms atop them, bringing her chin level with the water’s surface. “I’m happy to listen to whatever you have to say, Severus.”

            “Hmm,” he hummed for a moment just resting easily against the back of the tub. “I have no profound wisdoms to offer so I hope you weren’t expecting any, I find that as I am moving closer to what I know is the end that my mind feels oddly empty.” He paused for only a moment and then mimicked her movement, drawing his legs up to his chest, leaning his arms atop them and leaning his head forward, his long black hair now floating atop the water as hers did. “I never thought I would make it this far, I was resigned to this fate some five years ago and realize now that laying there in that shack as the blood poured out of me, and the room began to grow cold that I had no profound final thoughts.”

            Hermione wasn’t sure what to say to this. It was rather harrowing and touching and terrible all at once. But she kept her eyes gazing at him, sharing perhaps one of the most tensely un-profoundly profound moments she had ever felt. It filled her with a strange sense of self-awareness of her own lack of profound thoughts in that moment. Her feelings were running high and she gently nudged her toe against his beneath the water. “But that wasn’t the end…perhaps tomorrow you’ll feel different,” she whispered.

            He pursed his lips, his eyebrows crinkling downward slightly. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I won’t know until it happens but I had no way of knowing then that it wasn’t truly the end, I believed it to be, just as I know tomorrow will be. I am perhaps just a man, no one special, I’ve served my purpose, protected Potter, and that’s that.”

            “You are special,” she said softly. “Even if you choose not to believe so, Severus.” Her toe nudged against the side of his foot and she smiled. “Come on, let me wash your hair,” she said. “It will enhance the relaxing sensations of this bath,” she offered. She couldn’t listen to anymore of his death ramblings, even if all he’d wanted was someone to listen. Even as he prepared to face down death he thought himself unworthy; this time of final thoughts and it made her heart ache for him even more so than it had before. “I can be quite good with my fingers,” she said and then leaned forward, shifting her legs so that her knees fell away from her chest and she was then kneeling at the bottom of the tub. She remained crouched forward for a moment, realizing that even filled nearly to the edge the tub was not deep enough to keep her completely concealed if she were to straighten her torso while kneeling.

            Most of the bubbles had vanished and in that moment she closed her eyes. “If you spread your legs to either side of the tub I can kneel between them and wash your hair, or I can hop out and wash your hair from behind you,” she said and then opened her eyes. “Or I can move back against the wall and you can sit as you are with your back to me, whatever you like.”

            “I don’t wish for you to have to get out of the tub that seems an awful nuisance and judging from your hesitation to right your posture your willingness to showcase all god gave you seems a bit lacking.”

            She couldn’t help but blush. She hadn’t meant to seem hesitant it simply wasn’t second nature to parade naked around people; especially not around men, and certainly not in front of him. “If you wish to gaze upon what god gave me I’m happy to show you,” she said though she doubted she sounded convincing with her face so scarlet red.

            “I may be a dying man, Hermione, but I’m a man nonetheless and I would be foolish to turn down the opportunity to see a pair of breasts before I am to be executed, in fact the last pair of breasts I may ever see,” he said with a subtle drawl to his voice. “So if you are offering know that as a man slated for death I will not object.”

            “I have to get out of the tub to get the shampoo and conditioner anyhow,” she said and then slowly nodded straightening up. Hermione immediately felt her nipples grow taut; the stiff rosy buds straining against the chill of the air above the water’s surface. And his eyes lingering upon them did little to make them soften. “I’ll be right back,” she said turning to the side, but his hand upon her shoulder stopped her. “Severus?” she asked, glancing over her arm, her body tilted from his gaze.

            “That’s fine,” he said. “But do come back, I find I’m enjoying your company in this bath, Hermione,” he said and then let his fingers slide slowly down her back until they’d reached the water. “And don’t try to hide yourself when you approach, if I have to make it an official request, as a dying man, I wish to see you as you are, naked and wet,” he said.

            She felt a jolt of strange sensations zap her at her core. Humiliation; she could not think of a single time anyone had ever asked to see her naked, whatever their reason; mingled with fear surely she was not attractive, her breasts not terribly large or even all that perky, her hips curved, her thighs large. But beneath the anxiety was a yearning, one that was far too inappropriate for her to acknowledge; but she found herself yearning for him to see her on the off chance that he might look upon her as a man does a woman in the most primal sense of the word. She bit her lower lip and then nodded. “Ok, but try not to stare too hard, you’ll hurt your eyes,” she aid and then quickly slipped out of the tub and padded over to the shelf behind them.

            The selection of shampoos and conditioners was a rather limited one though she wasn’t sure that she had expected something grand given the circumstances. Hermione bit her lower lip, her mind whirling over all he had said. He was a man albeit a dying one, but that he did find himself giving into his baser male tendencies. She hadn’t considered that he might ask for that as a request. Of course she wouldn’t deny him, how could she, it just hadn’t occurred to her that it was a possibility. Again her cheeks were stinging with blush and she wasn’t even showing him anything in particular. Risking a glance back over her shoulder she noted that he was staring ahead as if she hadn’t left the tub and she breathed a silent sigh, thankful that he wasn’t staring at her derrière.

            A simple shampoo that smelled like soap and a cream based conditioner were her final selections as she slowly turned and began to walk back toward the bathtub, keeping his latest request in mind. I wish to see you as you are, naked and wet. That made her whole body prickle in a fashion she wasn’t sure she’d ever experienced before. Because no one had ever asked such a thing of her before; to see her naked and not just to see her naked but to actually want to see her in all the glory that god had gifted her. Drawing in a deep breath she slowly exhaled; you can do this, he at least deserves you to not be so bloody bashful about it. Her inner mantra did little to help.

            His eyes were upon her as she slowly stepped toward the tub, setting both bottles on the edge that was against the wall. Hermione looked at the water and then carefully lifted one leg up into the tub and then other, standing before him baring it all. She had never thought of her body as much to look at, rather plain and unattractive, not hideous perhaps but certainly not anything to write home about. She supposed that it was just nerves or her shy nature in regarding her own nudity that made her tremble slightly for the water that rose up to her knees was plenty hot.

            Her hands rested loosely at her sides and she found herself slowly drawing them forward subtly cupping her sex with her palms, only to tense slightly as she felt his hand on her wrist. While it was not the startling grip with which he’d grabbed her when they’d first come into the foyer of his final holding room, it was a firm hand nonetheless. He nodded at her slowly pulling her hands away to her side once more, and it was then that she could feel the blush traveling through her whole body, his finger, pointed and bony as they were, gently stroking the swell of her hip down the side of her thigh.

            She closed her eyes knowing that she was probably turning a rather embarrassing shade of pink all over her body. And she could not bring herself to open them when he began to speak. “You blush…” he said letting the back of his fingers delicately trace back up the curve of her leg and over across the front of her stomach, his knuckles ever so gingerly grazing the top of her curls. “Hmm,” he sighed softly, a contented sound that caused her body to tingle just a little bit more. “The pink flesh…the wet eyes…” he spoke softly, and she couldn’t help but open her eyes to gaze at him.

            Seeing him in that moment caused a wave of dizzying sensations to wash over her head; blood thrumming through her temples echoing loudly in her ear. He looked so very serene; not at all how you might expect a man to look when admiring a naked woman. And she realized it was because he was admiring her; as if she were a work of art mounted on the wall for his viewing pleasure; and not as a lecherous predator seeking out its prey. The thought made her blush all the more.

            “The devotional glance…and modesty that conceals a body that still has breasts and pubic hair…” he gently drew the back of his hand down from the center of her abdomen, letting his knuckles once again graze her curls, this time more thoroughly as he trailed his touch down over her mound and then further down the inside of her thigh until he folded his hand over and gently cupped her calf. “The contrast is so exciting…”

            She couldn’t help the way her body shivered at his touch and only hoped that he would understand it wasn’t a shiver of disgust but something far deeper than she would ever care to admit. It was a rush and thrill of excitement that set her very being a blaze; the simple path he had traced with his fingers feeling like it was still on fire with a burning heat that threatened to consume her.

            “I should like very much to see if you will live up to your bragging, Hermione, do show me that you can be quite good with your fingers,” he said, drawing her eyes to his. “Sit with me in the tub, I think I’d like for you to wash my hair now.”

            “Alright,” she said, surprised that she had been able to say so without a tremor in her voice. Hermione eased her body down into the water, once again on her knees, though her breasts remained above the water. She did her best to keep his gaze, but noticed that he stared with a bit more intensity than before at her breasts. “Oh,” she said, realizing that he was in fact gazing at the marking on her right breast just off to the side of and slightly lower than her nipple. “It’s a birthmark,” she said, “A dreadful place to have one,” she admitted.

            “It looks like a star,” he said and drew his hand up from the water, gently cupping her right breast in his palm. Hermione’s breath hitched in her throat as he gently lifted her breast up; as if to somehow elevate her bosom; her flesh now the canvas and her birthmark the work of art. “Rather unique,” he said and then just as gently as he’d lifted her breast he carefully released it.

            “Thank you,” she said trying not to sound awkward. His hand had not felt unpleasant against her flesh; big and warm, despite the thin points of his fingers, which she suspected were always that long and bony even before he’d been deprived of proper care. But she didn’t dare let her thoughts linger on how very comforting and in fact arousing it had felt to have him cup her breast as he did, even if it had only been the one and for just a moment. If he wanted such things from her he would ask; he’d minced no words in stating that he was a man and she had made it quite clear that she was willing to give him anything. “Now, lean your head forward and we’ll get your hair wet,” she said, trying to chase the more carnal thoughts from her mind.

            Severus began to lean forward but then paused a moment. “Sit back,” he said and then he pulled himself up to standing, turning around so that his back was to her, before sitting once more in the tub, forcing her to move back so that her back was against the edge of the tub. “You said earlier you could do it this way,” he said and then ever so slowly leaned his head back, resting it against her shoulders. His eyes were closed as began to breathe slow even breaths just reclining against her body. “There is something to be said for feeling skin against skin…the soft nubile skin of a young woman such as yourself even more so, Hermione,” his words were but a whisper. “And I should hope you won’t hold such a lewd desire against me,” he added.

            Her breasts pressed against his back, and the weight of him, which was not much at all, was leaned fully into her body. She could feel his bones, the way his ribcage protruded against the skin of his back as he laid against her. She didn’t have words for what he had said. He seemed to take great joy in the simplest of sensual pleasures; but if that was all she could give him, she would give him every moment of it until he was contented. “Yes,” she said. “Yes I can wash your hair like this,” she carefully brought her hands up and touched his shoulders, “But you will have to lean your head up a bit so that I can do so.”

            Severus slowly lifted his head from her shoulder, leaning forward just a bit. “Is that enough?” he asked.

            Hermione nodded, and then said “Yes, it’s fine,” realizing that he couldn’t hear her shaking her head in agreement. His flesh seemed so bright in that moment; such a stark contrast to her own skin, which while pale looked bronzed compared to him. Her hands were smaller, not as elegant as his, her fingers far shorter and stubby by comparison as she scooped them together and drew up a handful of water. “Close your eyes, Severus,” she whispered against the back of his ear. Little drops of water leaked from where her fingers were pressed together as she drew the handful of water up over his crown, releasing it with a splash over his hair.

            The delicate splash of the water was the only sound as she filled her hands once more and continued to wet his hair. She could feel him breathing, slow and deep, truly relaxed against her body and despite the heat of the water she felt warmed by the skin to skin contact, wondering if he felt the same. It was an intimate gesture; one of trust and sensuality, to have someone wash your hair as she was washing his. And it stirred all sorts of thoughts in her mind as she slowly let another handful of water trickle down over his locks.

            His hair was not thick, but it was indeed soft. The long black locks, while holding no volume, were like delicate strands of silk against her hand as she slowly ran her fingers through his hair. She squeezed a dollop of the shampoo into her palm and then rubbed her hands together, making lather with her fingers before she set to work massaging the bubbles over his head.

            The soft hum of contented pleasure that reverberated up through his chest made her fingers tremble as she began to rake her nails lightly over her scalp, massaging the shampoo into his hair, working up and over his crown down the back of his neck, bunching the long strands together and then combing through them gently with her fingers.

            “This is truly a luxury…” he muttered. “One that I can say I’ve now had done and can add to my list,” he mused. His words seemed to stir that strange fusion of happiness and sadness in her once more; pleased to provide such a simple thing to bring him joy, sorrowed that he had never before had such a pleasant thing done for him. His voice broke her thoughts and caused her to blush. “You did not lie to me, Hermione, you are indeed quiet good with your fingers,” he murmured, the deep rich sound of his voice tickling her ear as she slowly pulled her fingers back from his hair.

            “You’ve nice hair,” she said.

            His deep baritone laugh that suddenly filled the small bathroom startled her. Never in her life of knowing the man had she ever heard him laugh. It was an actual sound; a full rich hearty sound that echoed through her ears and made her whole spine tingle. Severus Snape was laughing. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

            “Of all the things people have had to say in regards to my hair over the years no one has ever said it was nice.” He said and then leaned up from her body. For a moment she nearly pouted aloud at the loss of contact but she was biting her lower lip as he turned awkwardly over his shoulder to gaze at her. “There has never been a kind word said about my hair and the irony that it would be you, the girl with the frizzy uncontrollable hair, was simply not lost on me in that moment.”

            Hermione’s blush was red with both embarrassment and a bit of anger. “My hair isn’t frizzy,” she said looking down at the water. “Er, as much,” she added.

            This caused him to chuckle. “It wasn’t really meant as an insult, but I suppose being socially awkward does have its disadvantages from time to time,” he shrugged and then quirked his lips to the side before skimming his hand with a bit of force across the surface of the water. A good skipping wave splashed up into her face.

            “Oh!’ she cried, both startled and shocked by the gesture. Severus splashed her again. “What are you doing?” she cried only to be splashed a third time, a larger wave of water than the first two times washing over her face, stirring the water in the tub quiet violently. “Stop that!” she shouted and defensively splashed him back.

            Severus’s deep laugh once again filled the room as he continued to splash her, Hermione now pushing weight and effort into her retaliatory attempts, one hand trying to shield her eyes the other trying to send as much water in his direction as possible. Water sloshed up over the sides of the tub splattering against the floor as their bathtub battle raged on until finally she felt his hands capturing both of her wrists and her giggles as well as his laughter slowly died, the water still rolling between them for a moment before settling down once more.

            “That was—” he shook his head with a smile on his lips. “Do people do that?” he asked.

            Hermione’s eyes filled with exasperation and she couldn’t help herself as she began to laugh once more, her wrists still held above the water, just at her chest, by his hands. “Oh my goodness, Severus Snape,” she said shaking her head. “I mean— well— you did at any rate,” she said with a grin and then gently twisted one hand free from his grasp, bringing it up to brush a line of shampoo suds off his forehead. Somehow in their water battle he’d gotten turned around and was facing her once more and she in her attempt to defend herself was on her knees. “You’ve still got shampoo in your hair,” she said and then gently pulled her other hand back from his grasp.

            “So I do,” he said and then brought both hands up to touch his hair, scrunching his fingers in a mimicry of how she had massaged his head. Severus had gathered just a bit of the shampoo lather in his hands and then he brought his hands to her head. “I won’t be as good at it,” he said. “But owing in part that I will never have the chance to say I’ve done someone such a kindness, frizzy as it may be, I should like to wash your hair, Hermione.”

            For a moment she was silent. It wasn’t that she didn’t want him to wash her hair; the thought quite thrilled her if she was honest with herself; it just took a moment for her to process and digest his request. And then she nodded, accepting it for what it was, a dying man who had never before really had the opportunity to do so many of life’s simple pleasures. “Of course,” she said with an uncertain smile. “Though it gets very tangled, it’s not nice, not like your hair.”

            Hermione slid on her knees a bit closer to him, feeling his legs on either side of her as she knelt between them, both hands now cupping the sides of his face. “Keep your eyes closed, Severus,” she said, with her breasts resting above the water’s surface level with his chin. “Shampoo in your eyes will sting,” she added and then slowly she laced her fingers together and dipped them into the water, drawing her handful of water up over his head once more. It took her a few minutes to rinse his hair before she finally wiped her palm gently over his eyes to clear the little trail of suds that had built up there. “You can open them now,” she said and then leaned back, reaching behind her to grab the bottle of conditioner.

            “Let me put this in your hair and it can set while you shampoo my hair,” she said. Her hair was already quite wet from the splash battle and would not need as much wetting as his had. With a gentle smile she squirted the thick cream into her palms and began to run her fingers through his wet tresses, stroking the conditioner through his hair until she was satisfied that she’d coated it well. “There,” she said and then let her hands fall to the side of her body.

            Severus gazed at her, simply studying her figure as it sat before him, resting on her haunches, her breasts floating like flowers upon the surface of the water her hair wetted down and clinging in soft curls all around her face. “You are the picture of Venus in this moment, I think,” he said. That was indeed a compliment that caused her to blush profusely, and she couldn’t help herself as she turned her head to the side and wrapped her arms around her chest. “I know I did not phrase that as an insult,” he said curiously. “And yet you hide your body when I compliment it, strange indeed…” he mused softly and reached a hand out to tilt her chin up and turn her head back to face him.

            Hermione could deny him nothing least of all an explanation for her response to his compliment. She sighed softly and looked at him through the locks of hair that had fallen in front of her face when she’d turned away from him. “I’m not particularly pretty,” she said and then continued on before he could contradict her. “At least I’ve never considered myself to be. I’m not thin, I mean I’m not overweight, but I have curves and my breasts are not my best feature…they’re rather small and they sag a bit, they don’t sit up all perky like the way other women my do…I don’t shave my- erm- well I don’t, and my thighs are enormous,” she said feeling even more embarrassed in her confession then when he had complimented her.

            “I never did understand that about women,” he said softly.

            “What?” she asked.

            “The want, or need or whatever it is that drives women to shave their most intimate area…it’s troublesome to think of a woman denuded of her pubic hair, isn’t she then not a woman, but a girl?” he asked curiously. The innocence of his tone helped ease the blush from her cheeks somewhat, though he had not yet let go of her chin. “The growth of pubic hair signals the transformation from childhood into womanhood and yet so many women are so eager to strip themselves of this transformation,” he shook his head. “I don’t understand it, and then to assume that men will only want clean shaven women…” his voice trailed off. “I’ve no fancy for a little girl in that respect why would I want your sex to mimic that of a little girl?” he asked. “The very notion of bringing a sharp instrument between one’s legs to remove the very essence of what defines her as a woman is baffling to me.”

            Hermione blinked several times. “I—” she again found herself at a complete loss for words. But her dumbstruck silence seemed to go unnoticed by him.

            “A lover’s scent is strongest in the musk that is captured there, why should any woman wish to lessen the intensity to which she experiences the scent of her lover?” he asked as if it were an honest to god classroom question. But thankfully before she was forced to concoct an answer and speak it, he spoke again. “I would say that you as you are, all natural with the soft thatch of chestnut curls between your legs is perhaps the most strikingly sexy thing a woman can be but after your reaction to my previous compliment, I’m not so sure that I should.”

            She cupped both hands over her face in that moment, parting her fingers to gaze at him as she did. “Why are you saying these things to me?” she asked, hoping that she didn’t sound accusatory or upset. She was, in all honesty, aside from slightly embarrassed, genuinely curious.

            “If the fact that they are truth will not suffice in your book of answers, then understand that I am saying so because there is no one else to whom I can say them,” he said with a simple shrug of his shoulders. “I have no friends or family, no significant other with which I have shared my life, the world has decided that it would be a better place without me in it but yet you are here, determined for reasons of your own, to ensure that whatever I wish to have before I die I do indeed have, so it’s because you are here, Hermione.” He said simply. “Though it’s also because of who you are, don’t mistake me and think that were this any ordinary person—” he paused for the briefest of moments, selecting his words carefully. “And I doubt any ordinary person would be as you are, in the bath with me here, but were this anyone else, I do not think I would find myself so very free in the tongue as it were.”

            Hermione slowly lowered her hands from her face, holding his gaze as she did so. “I should be honored to be so…” she let her voice trail off. “I don’t know that trusted is the right word, Severus, but whatever it is, despite my body’s embarrassment, know that I’m honored,” she said and then gently folded her hands in her lap, exposing her breasts to him once more.

            He nodded to her and then leaned forward, shifting onto his knees. “Will you still let me wash your hair?” he asked.

            “Yes, of course,” she said with a smile that she again had to force to her lips. “Of course,” she repeated and then made to turn around as he had but both hands on her shoulders gave her pause. “Should I just stay on my knees then?” she asked quietly.

            “I rather like you at this height,” he said. While he was taller than her, his height was both in his elongated torso and his legs where as hers, though not overly tall, was only in her legs. He smirked slightly, the first facial expression she’d seen him make that was truly reminiscent of his old self since being locked into the holding chamber with him that evening.

            “Is that so?” she asked.

            “Yes, I can gaze down upon you in all your naked glory like the David of bathtub sculptures,” he said and then retrieved the shampoo bottle, which was floating on the water just behind her, having fallen from its place on the ledge during their splash fight. “And your hair is not frizzy anymore,” he said watching her smile. “Not much anyhow.”

            Hermione rolled her eyes and then slowly tilted her head forward, bowing it so that he could work the shampoo through her hair. She kept her eyes closed, silently reveling in the sensations his hands, though awkward and clumsy, were creating within her body. Awkward and clumsy were not two words that she would have ever associated with Severus Snape, but despite his uncertain manner of washing her hair, clearly trying to imitate from memory what he had just felt her do; despite that she was experiencing elation. Not so unlike him in the sense that another human being had never washed her hair; or at least it had been so long ago when she was a toddler that she did not recall it; she found the experience to be relaxing and pleasant, much more pleasant than she had expected.

            “You make such pretty sounds,” he said, water pouring over her tresses from his hands.

            “What?” she asked, not lifting her head as he continued to rinse the shampoo from her hair.

            “You were moaning,” he said and then splashed another handful of water of her hair, rinsing away the last of the suds. She felt his finger under her chin, tipping her head up until their eyes met. “When I was washing your hair just now, Hermione, you were moaning as if you were enjoying what I was doing.”

            The heat in her cheeks rivaled the water that had been charmed to stay comfortably hot. She had to close her eyes just to draw in a calming breath as she tried to fight the urge to tear her head back from him and promptly drown it under the water. She hadn’t realized that she had been making sounds, or rather that her body had been moaning. “I guess I did,” she shrugged trying not to make a big deal of it, hoping that would help ease the pink coloration in her face.

            “You wear your house colors quite well,” he said and she watched his lips curl into a smirk. This did little to ease her flushing face. “Though you’re missing the gold,” he added and then pulled his hand back from under her chin.

            Hearing his compliments had been difficult enough but to hear them, now backhanded with that little drop of venom that made him the man he was, it was threatening to be her undoing. It was absurd; almost as if he weren’t dying that he wasn’t going to sit down in the electric chair on Thursday morning and have his life taken away. It reminded her for the briefest of moments that she still needed to request the literature on the process of his execution as it was not a method with which she was familiar. But that thought faded when she noticed his hand once more cupping her breast.

            “I’ve had it all my life,” she said turning her eyes down to gaze at the birthmark. It was a dark brown, asymmetric marking. She bit her lower lip watching as he slowly swiped his thumb over the mark, noticing then for the first time how very much it did look like a slightly lopsided star. “It’s smooth, when I put concealer over it you can’t even tell it’s there,” she confessed.

            “Concealer?” he asked.

            “Makeup, muggle makeup, it’s a cream to blend in blemishes with your natural skin tone,” she explained.

            Severus nodded his head. “I gathered as much, Hermione, but my question was why, though in your explanation of what I think I got my answer,” he said. Again he slowly swiped his thumb over the marking, it wasn’t really much bigger than his thumbnail. “It’s hardly a blemish,” he said.

            Hermione wished that like tears there was a way to run out of coloring for one’s face in regards to blushing, but as that did not seem to be the case, she felt herself blush again. She had only put concealer on it a handful of times, about the number of times she’d had sex, when she thought hard about it. Of the handful of partners she’d had there’d never been cause or occasion to take her shirt or bra all the way off when they had fooled around and as she had paced herself in those piss-poor relationships she had been ready when they’d finally done the deed. “I suppose I didn’t want anyone to see it,” she shrugged.

            “For fear they would find it ugly as you do,” he said; a statement not a question.

            Hermione nodded her head. “It’s dreadful,” she repeated her sentiment from earlier.

            “It’s a star,” he said and then caressed it a third time before slowly letting her breast rest against her chest once more. “A rather lovely star.”

            She shook her head, not believing him, but couldn’t find the words to counter his argument. “Let’s rinse your hair,” she said. “And then whatever you like.”

            Severus closed his eyes as she brought the water up over his head, cradling several handfuls to rinse the conditioner from his hair. It was a slow process, her hands gliding through his locks to ensure she hadn’t left any clumps of conditioner behind. And when she finished she allowed him to do the same, though they had not let her conditioner set nearly as long. And again she found herself relaxed and at ease when he worked his large hands through her hair; less awkwardly than before. Hermione did not allow her mind to drift as he worked his fingers through her locks, not wanting to start moaning without being aware she was doing it.

            When they’d finished with each other’s hair she nodded to him. “What now?” she asked.

            He was quiet for a moment, leaning back on his knees as she was, both of their torsos exposed above the water. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think I’ve sat long enough in this bath to thoroughly enjoy it…you’ve afforded me a few luxuries that were indeed luxurious,” he said and then slowly stood up, a cascade of water rushing down his body as he did. She should have averted her eyes, looked away or at the very least closed them, but for a brief moment she was presented with a very close view of his manhood.

            Thick wiry black curls surrounded it, and for one brief moment she felt herself entranced by seeing him in all his natural glory. But as quickly as he’d stood was as quickly as he was turning and stepping out of the tub, not even noticing that she’d been staring. Hermione breathed a heavy but mostly silent sigh of relief, only to be presented with the most delicious view of his backside. Even in his emaciated state his ass was quite the picture; taut round muscle padded each cheek, flexed slightly as he walked over to the stack of towels, drawing up four from the stack. He wrapped one around his waist and then moved back to the tub. “Here,” he said and held out two of the towels to her.

            Hermione stood up and immediately flipped her head forward, taking the first towel from him and draping it over the back of her neck. She bundled her hair up into the terrycloth and then pinned it up in a makeshift turban upon her head. Stepping out of the tub she wrapped the other towel around her body; all of her god given glory finally concealed from his eyes. “Would you like me to wrap your hair up?” she asked.

            “Sure,” he said and then bent down, letting his hair fall down in front of his face. Hermione took the last towel and draped it over his head as she had her own, repeating the process of gathering up his wet tresses and pinning it up atop his head. He stood up and nodded his thanks, causing her to smile.

            “There’s a room back through the foyer, there’s a table and sofa, with a fireplace among other things.”

            “So you said.”

            “There’s a bed,” she shrugged her shoulders a bit.

            Severus chuckled. “What’s the saying, there will be plenty of time for sleep when I am dead?” he asked and then stepped past her. “No, Hermione, I shan’t be needing the bed for sleep,” he turned around to face her.

            She nodded quietly and then leaned over to drain the tub, waving her wand to clear up all the water they’d splashed over the sides during their fun little tussle. She returned the shampoo and conditioner bottles to the shelf and then stepped back out of the washroom, moving behind him into the other room. “Should I have it taken out or transfigure it into something else for you?” she offered, watching him stare at the bed.

            “I said I shan’t be needing it for sleep,” he said, turning his head back slowly over his shoulder to glance at her. “Not that I shan’t be needing it.”

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The Last 24 Hours of Severus Snape