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The Last 24 Hours of Severus Snape	By : CryingCinderella Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Snape/Hermione Views: 17388 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money from writing these stories.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: Well, folks, we’ve come to the final chapter. (Yes there will be an epilogue, but that’s not really a chapter…) All I can say is I hope you have your Kleenex, Puffs, or whatever name brand of tissue you keep at the ready, I have a feeling this is going to be a short but woeful ride.
                The corridor that led them out of the holding chamber and down through the bowels of The Ministry was not one that Hermione had ever traversed in her time there. It was not a pleasant experience, with the atmosphere caught halfway between the sterility of a hospital and the dreariness of a neglected prison. They walked in silence with the two guards behind them and Kingsley Shacklebolt in front of them. She held his hand, despite the manacles, and from time to time glanced at him as they rounded a corner or descended a flight of stairs. When they arrived at their destination— a tiny room that had stone blue walls and garish overhead chandeliers— Hermione felt her stomach tighten in knots. There was a simple table laid out inside and a chair placed beside it. A man that Hermione did not recognize was standing in the corner and she swore he looked disappointed when Kingsley explained the situation to him.
                The guards forced Severus down into the chair and restrained a chain around his waist, binding him to it. Hermione flinched, but said nothing. She was granted her pensieve, which Kingsley now held, and after several inspections and scans, her charm bracelet was given to her as well. It hung around her wrist but did not comfort her as she had hoped it might. The miserable man, who had dared to look unhappy when he had been informed that he would not be preparing the prisoner, approached Severus and crossed his arms over his chest. “For your last meal?” he said. Hermione wrinkled her nose. His voice was reedy and grated on her nerves.
                Severus shook his head. “I am not hungry.”
                “Don’t be absurd,” said Kingsley. “Everyone has a last meal.”
                Severus turned his head to look at the dark-skinned wizard. “I had my last meal many hours ago in polite company, there is no need to repeat it now.”
                “Don’t push him, Kingsley,” she gritted out through clenched teeth.
                Kingsley glared at her but after a moment, nodded and then waved at the reedy man. A look of disbelief and annoyance crossed his face as he drew out a clipboard and scribbled something across it. “No…last…meal…prisoner…refused…” he muttered and then glared at Severus. “Do you wish to see a chaplain?”
                Severus shook his head. “What for?”
                Hermione closed her eyes. It was more than she had been prepared to handle. It was bad enough he was going to die. But all of the finalities of last meals and rights were washing over her like a tidal wave made of lead, intent on drowning her before she could bear witness to such a heinous crime. Her stomach was tight with knots and she felt dizzy, but she refused to cause a scene. He would die with as much dignity as she could afford him, and that meant staying calm and carrying through the moment.
                “Very well,” said the reedy man. “No…chaplain…prisoner…declines…” He set the clipboard down on the table. “Ahem, you,” he said and Hermione knew at once he was addressing her. “You have read the steps for preparation?” he asked.
                Hermione felt her stomach drop and she nearly vomited. Swallowing hard she nodded her head. She’d read them aloud to Severus, every gruesome detail. Her legs were heavy as she moved over to where he had been seated. Her fingers trembled as she drew her hand. Kingsley all but tackled her to the ground. “No magic,” he said sharply, snatching her wand from her.
                She was stricken by surprise, but then her eyes grew wide, first with anger and then with a dreadful realization. “How am I to—” But the reedy man silenced her question, producing a large pair of silver snips from somewhere Hermione had not seen. “This is humiliating,” she hissed, snatching the snips from his hand.
                “Come now,” Severus said, raising his head to look at her. “It’s only hair,” he said with a shrug. But she could see it in his eyes. The watery redness that knew he was one step closer to death.
                “You will do it as it is meant to be done, Hermione Granger,” Shacklebolt warned. “Or I will have you escorted to the gallery where you can await watching the execution and Mr. Twyford will finish preparing the prisoner.”
                “His name is Severus Snape,” she spat. “Stop calling him the prisoner. He is sitting right here in front of you! He saved the wizarding world from—”
                “Hermione, I will not warn you again,” he said and nodded at Twyford. “Either do what needs to be done, without complaint and protest…or you will be escorted out to the gallery.”
                She swallowed hard, blinking back tears as she stepped toward Severus, snips in her hand. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. Her hands shook as she drew up a section of his hair. The snips made a horrid crunching sound as they sliced through the silky black strands. “I’m so, so sorry,” she whispered, laying the first handful of his hair neatly down on the table in front of him.
                Severus shook his head. “For what, Hermione,” he said. “You’ve given me a great comfort,” he insisted. “More time with you…” he tried to smile. “Even if you are ruining my hair.”
                He was joking. He was making a joke as she prepared him for his electrocution. It took all she had not to collapse at his feet, throw her head into his lap, and sob until she could sob no more. She parted her lips to say something, but her voice cracked and she leaned her head forward, resting her nose on the top of his head. “I love you,” she whispered.
                “You silly witch,” he muttered, tilting his head up to gaze at her.
                “Ahem…” Twyford tapped his foot impatiently.
                Hermione shot him a look that would have knocked him dead if looks could kill. She gathered up another large handful of his hair, crunching her way through his locks. This process seemed to take ages, as the pile of his hair on the table grew. When she had to snip him closer to his scalp, little bits of his hair rained down all around him, clinging to his shoulders, the arms of the chair, and the floor at her feet. She sniffled, laying the snips down with a shaking hand after a little while longer. “That’s as close as I can—” Twyford slapped a razor into her palm before she could finish.
                “Smooth,” he sneered. “No one likes the smell of burnt hair.”
                One trembling hand rested on his shoulder and she kissed the top of his roughly shorn head. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Severus reached his hands up, moving them together in the manacles to touch the side of her arm. This gesture put the guards at the ready but Shacklebolt signaled them to ease. Severus curled his fingers around her forearm and she sobbed, gripping the razor more firmly. “Oh, Severus,” she whimpered.
                “It’s alright, Hermione, if you nick me, I can just bleed it out here with you,” he tried to smile.
                She laughed amid her tears, slowly dragging the razor blade back over his scalp. She was slower than was necessary, afraid that with no lather or water that she would nick him. Inch by inch she peeled away what remained of his hair, leaving flat smooth and dreadfully pale skin in its wake. It felt like ages pulling the razor blade over and over his head until no more hairs could be felt or seen. His hands trembled as hers had when he touched the sides of his head. “It’s like an egg,” he said, his voice shaky and hollow.
                “Ahem,” Twyford cleared his throat again. “The leg,” he said. “Draw back his robes, the right leg.”
                Hermione contemplated charging at the reedy man and running the razor right across his throat. But she knelt down and carefully drew up his dress robes. In a matter of moments she had shaven his right shin and all around his calf. Her lips trembled as they pressed a gentle kiss to his leg just below his kneecap, and she sniffled standing back up and taking a step back from his chair.
                “It’s time,” said Kingsley.
                Hermione placed the razor on the table and watched as the guards unchained his waist and drew him to his feet. “Undo his hands,” she growled.
                “Hermione—”
                “Kingsley it says they are unrestrained, he’s not been rowdy, damnit, now undo his hands, I need to say goodbye.” She demanded.
                There was a heavy silence for a very long moment. Nobody moved. Kingsley sighed and waved the heftier of two guards to undo the handcuffs from his hands. Severus stood, unchained and unbound, looking much like himself in the dark dress robes, save for his freshly shorn head. She threw her arms around him and he slowly embraced her. Their lips met and she sobbed into their kiss. “You have shown me something the world never could,” He murmured against her lips. Hands were tugging hard on her shoulders, pulling her away from him and she sobbed, struggling against them. A swift sling of her elbow sent the thinner of the two guards sailing back across the room and she threw her arms around Severus once more.
                “Please, don’t take him, don’t do this, don’t take him!” she sobbed.
                It was Severus’ hands on her back that stilled her sobs. “Shh, be brave, Gryffindor,” he whispered and kissed the top of her head. “You gave me everything, and for that I will always be grateful.”
                She pulled her head up from his chest, tears soaking her face. She kissed his lips once more before turning defiant, albeit wet, eyes to Kingsley. “I’m going with him.”
                “Hermione, no,” Severus said.
                “Yes, damnit,” she said, turning pleading eyes back to him. “I’ll put your cap on, I want to be the last person that touches you. My eyes need to be the last ones you see,” she pleaded.
                “Hermione, that’s impossible. You aren’t—”
                “Kingsley!” she shrieked. “You are killing him. You are performing an unforgivable curse only you’re not using your wand. Give me— give him that small comfort. Please!”
                Again silence permeated the room. Kingsley seemed to deliberate on this quite heavily. All eyes awaited his decision. When finally he conceded, she kissed Severus for a third time, before Twyford opened the adjoining door that led into the execution chamber. They were escorted into the chamber and Hermione felt numb. The chair was enormous, dwarfing Severus tenfold. He was already thin and looked smaller and meek without his hair. She bit her lower lip and then looked into his eyes. “You are loved,” she said, clutching at her charm bracelet. “Where is the sponge for his cap liner?” she asked.
                As Twyford retreated into the preparation room, Kingsley excused himself from the chamber as well, appearing a moment later on the other side of the glass. Hermione gazed out through the glass and numbness flooded her Ministry officials of varying levels were seated in tiers as if they were about to attend a lecture. It infuriated her but all she could feel was the numbness. Turning her back to the glass she watched as the guards eased Severus into the chair. To her surprise, he remained unrestrained. Heavy footsteps brought her to his side. She clutched her bracelet in her hand, squeezing it tight against her palm as she raised her hand to her head. “You are loved,” she cried, and then rubbed her palms over his head.
                “Ahem,” Twyford appeared beside her and handed her a large brown sponge. It smelled of saline and she sniffled, squeezing it in her palms before placing it onto the center of his bald head. “Now,” he said, placing the large cap into her hands. “Affix it to his head, attach the electrodes on either side, and then there is one more for his shin.”

                Hermione’s vision blurred as bracelet slipped from her hand, the charms and beads shattering from the string. But she moved in slow-motion as if she hadn’t heard her bracelet fall. The cap slid over his head, pinning the sponge to his scalp. First the left electrode and then the right. She was going through the motions as Twyford handed her the electrode for his shin. She stood up, kissed his lips and then the black bag was placed in her hands. Tears were streaming down from his eyes as he sat, helplessly and silently pleading with her.
                “Any last words?” Twyford sneered, moving back toward the large wall panel that contained the switch.
                “Beautiful witch,” He whispered and then closed his eyes. Hermione sobbed as she stepped forward, caressing his cheek.
                “I love you,” she whispered, the bag sliding over his head. No sooner had she let the black cloth bag fall to rest over his face than the two guards surged forward and grabbed her roughly around the shoulders, pulling her back from him. “No. No!” she cried, lunging forward as if she could somehow save him. But they were too strong for her. Her eyes flickered to Twyford, his hand on the lever. There was an echo in her head, and it all happened in slow motion. Twyford pulled the handle down, there was a spark, and a loud zapping sound filled the room.
                Hermione shrieked, sobbing and thrashing against the guards, her eyes fixed to the chair. Severus’ body jolted violently in its seat, smoke curling out from under the bag. His body rocked with the horrific zapping sound and Hermione’s eyes were frozen in terror, her throat screaming until it was raw. “No!” she cried, watching as the life was zapped from his figure. The lever was thrown back into place and immediately the electricity and his body stilled. Severus’ body slumped forward in the chair, with no restraints to hold it up, he tumbled completely out of the chair and thumped against the floor.
                She had fallen to her knees and the guards had slackened their grip on her shoulders once Twyford had flipped the switch. Scrambling to his fallen form, she ripped the bag from over his head, tearing the cap from his scalp. It burned her hand but she didn’t stop as she pulled him up into her arms. “No! Severus!” she sobbed. His eyes were screwed shut tight, the look of a man who had died in pain, with blood leaking out of his left eye. She howled, rocking back and forth with his body wrapped tight in her arms. Hermione would have given the world to trade places with him.
                “Hermione,” it was Kingsley’s voice that filled the room. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. “It’s time to go. He needs to be disposed of.”
                Still sobbing and rocking on the floor, she hurled her first back into his face hard when The Minister knelt down beside her and dared to place a hand on her shoulder. “You will release his body to me, he’s not garbage to be disposed of. He’s a human being. A human being that you murdered, you horrid bastard,” she cried. “And so help me— if there is one iota of difficulty in surrendering his body— you’re going to wish it were you that had been in that chair.”
                There was no argument from the minister. Hermione was left alone in the electrocution chamber, cradling the limp dead body of Severus Snape. When the minister returned, she spoke not a word to him, except to say that she would burn Severus in a proper wizard’s pyre. It was the least that could be done for a dishonored hero that had been brutally slain by the hands of a corrupted justice system.
Epilogue to come, once I stop crying.
- 8
- 9
- 10
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The Last 24 Hours of Severus Snape