Master in the Trees

She stared into his face in mute horror. He opened his mouth, as if to shriek at her again, when a glob of shaving cream that hung precipitously from his moustache fell into his mouth. He frowned for a moment, tasting, and emitted a horrible gagging sound before sticking his face into the water. He scrubbed his hands across his tongue, trying to rid his mouth of the taste. He emerged from the steaming water still spitting, and submerged again, shallow enough that she could hear his wordless protests clearly through the bubbles.

At last, he emerged from the water, shaking the excess from his hair and rubbing the last of it from his eyes, and glared at her.

In spite of the gravity of the situation, Hermione was unable to keep from giggling, especially when slimy deposits of shaving foam still clung to his beard. As if sensing the source of her merriment, he ran the length of his arm across his face and grimaced at the amount of shaving foam that came away.

Hermione grabbed a flannel from the side of the tub. "Here," she said, wetting it briefly in the water. "Let me help you."

He pulled away from her initially, hands raised in a defensive posture. She stood before him, waiting for him to become accustomed to her proximity, and then held out the cloth to him.

She could see the thoughts fly across his face as he examined her, in stark contrast to the man who once held his opinions as closely as he kept his enemies. Finally, he capitulated, returning to the step he had recently vacated. The impatient look he gave her was so characteristic of Professor Snape that she laughed aloud again.

"You didn't drink the Dreamless Sleep, did you?" she asked, gently rubbing the flannel over his face.

He was looking over her shoulder, as if searching for an escape. She frowned.

"Look at me."

He seemed to find the surface of the water of great interest.

"Severus, please look at me."

The use of his first name had spectacular results. His eyes widened, and he jumped from his seat to the centre of the tub with an inarticulate roar, where he lay on his back, attempting to float. Unfortunately, his emaciated figure wasn't as buoyant as he hoped, and he had to flutter his feet and arms continuously to keep his face above water.

Hermione wiped the water from her eyes and approached him cautiously. His eyes were screwed shut, but his mouth was moving, his lips and tongue shaping words but giving them no voice.

After staring at him blankly for a moment, Hermione approached him carefully, extended her arm beneath the water and placed it gently beneath the small of his back.

The slightest of tremors went through his body, and then he relaxed into the support, limbs quieting to stillness. Even his mouth stilled, lips falling slightly apart, and he emitted a great sigh.

She held him there, floating in the water for what could have been minutes or hours, listening to the rhythm of his breathing, watching the great vein in his throat pulse with his heartbeat.

At length, he opened his eyes and gazed into her face.

"You," he whispered, voice hoarse from disuse.

She blinked in surprise. "Do you know me?"

He made no reply, but continued to stare at her face intently. Hermione dropped her gaze, reluctant to expose herself to Legilimency. She now knew better than to think him harmless.

He placed his hand to the arm that supported him, and slid his hand slowly up her arm, past the strap that had slid from her shoulder, and delicately ran his fingertips along the back of her neck. Gooseflesh broke out over her arms, and she shivered violently.

He withdrew his hand quickly, but when she did not withdraw her supporting arm, he placed the flat of his hand against the base of her skull and pressed softly, encouraging her to meet his gaze once more. She shook her head.

"Look at me," he said, with a shadow of his old command in his voice.

She turned her head downward and looked him squarely in the face.

The hand that rested on her neck slid around to her face, and rough fingertips softly skimmed her cheekbone, brushed her nose, then slid down across her lips and chin. He drew his index finger down the centre of her neck, to the top of her sternum, stopping only when he reached the edge of her swimsuit. Not once did his eyes leave her face.

Hermione felt blood rush to her face, and she turned away again. However, in doing this, her gaze swept across his body, and she realised that he was becoming aroused. Well of course, she scolded herself, the poor man hasn't seen a human female in years. She swallowed hard, not unaffected by his tumescence, though whether it was anxiety or anticipation she couldn't say.

As if reading her mind, Severus raised himself to face her, treading carefully in the shallow water in front of her. Wishing to dissuade him from thoughts unrelated to bathing, she approached the taps and poured a generous measure of a fresh-smelling soap into her hand. He was watching her with a guarded expression, and she held out the soap for his inspection.

"I need to wash your hair," she said.

He didn't appear to have heard a word. He simply stared at her. Hoping that she wouldn't live to regret it, she gently seized his arm and floated him over to the rim of the tub, where he settled into the seat without protest.

"You should close your eyes," she instructed, climbing into the seat next to him.

To her surprise, he complied, and she began massaging the soap into his scalp. Though Minerva had cut off the most matted and filthy parts of his hair, Hermione was still shocked at how long she had to scrub before the mass on his head began to feel like hair again. The foam turned dull brown, and Hermione scooped water over his head to rinse it. Her second handful of shampoo lathered white, and she belatedly realised that Severus was mumbling something.

She gently eased his head back into the water, and he relaxed into his floating position as she rinsed the last of the soap from his hair, pleased by its silky texture. He opened his eyes again, this time staring at the ceiling overhead. She felt his body tense.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't let me touch the ground," he whispered.

"We're nowhere near the ground," she said, frowning. "We're in your chambers at Hogwarts."

"Don't let me touch the ground!" he said with greater urgency, pupils dilating.

"I won't," Hermione said quickly. "Not unless you want me to."

"Never the ground," he said, eyelids falling shut. "Never the ground."

She was losing him. "Why won't you touch the ground?" she asked desperately.

"That's where he is."

"I won't let him near you," she said, smoothing his hair back from his forehead. "You're safe here with me."

His rough breathing steadied, and while she suspected he was pretending to be asleep, she decided that calling his bluff would serve no purpose. Gently, she levitated his dripping body and was about to lay him on the towels she and Minerva had set out, but paused. Was the floor the same as the ground?

Not wishing to break her word to her former teacher, she levitated him out of the bathroom and into his bed. She cast a Drying Charm for good measure, and pulled the bedclothes up to his chin. Again, her hand was drawn to his face, where she wiped away a tear that had trickled from the corner of his eye. Hermione felt her throat tighten as she rubbed the droplet between the tips of her fingers, despairing of ever finding the man that could convict Lucius Malfoy inside this fragile shell.

She pursed her lips and blinked back her tears. Sorrowing over the situation did no good. If there was a way to bring back the Severus Snape that she knew, she would need help beyond what the headmistress would give her. She shivered suddenly and realised that she was still standing next to his bed in her sodden swimsuit, and the sun had set, taking with it what warmth remained in the air. When she had dried herself and dressed, she pulled the velvet draperies shut. Without the sun to wake him, he would sleep as long as he needed to, which suited her. She had work to do.

"Good night." She eased herself out the door to the hallway. As the portrait closed behind her, she fancied that she heard the words "Thank you" through an exhalation, though she couldn't be certain.

)()()()()()()()()()()()()()(

She met Minerva in the corridor leading to the Great Hall. She was covered in dirt and two red spots graced her cheeks.

"Two hundred points!" she hissed. "I had to deduct two hundred points from my own house! If Severus were conscious, he'd wet himself laughing."

"He was conscious."

"Preposterous. That was enough Dreamless Sleep to knock out a granite statue of Ichabod the Intoxicated."

"He didn't drink it."

The headmistress blinked in surprise. "That sly thing!" she exclaimed. "I wonder at how much he overheard. But my dear, you look positively fierce. What happened?"

"He's not himself."

"Did he say anything?"

Hermione just managed to keep from blushing. The embarrassing part was immaterial. "He said he didn't want to touch the ground because that's where 'he' is."

"Those horses drove him mad," said Minerva vehemently.

"No!" Hermione protested. "The Thestrals couldn't do that. You don't think-" she cut off abruptly.

"What?"

"You don't think he could be talking about Professor Dumbledore, do you?"

"Albus isn't in the ground," Minerva pointed out.

"Severus doesn't know that. He was long gone by that time."

"Perhaps. How was he when you left?"

"Asleep. For real, this time."

"Then we shall let him sleep," said Minerva with an air of finality. "I'll have the house elves leave him food for when he wakes. As for you, my dear, you're welcome to stay the night here in one of the guest rooms."

"Thank you, Minerva, but I shouldn't. I have some things to look into tonight."

"Either way you decide, feel free to make use of the library," said the headmistress shrewdly. "And do try not to stay up all night. I've taken enough points from Gryffindor today."

"I'll only be checking one or two references this evening."

The headmistress's disbelieving look startled a laugh out of Hermione.

"I'll leave you to it, then," said Minerva. "I'm going to check on Severus, then do a sweep for Weasley Wheezes in all four houses. Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes, I have a meeting with the centaurs."

"Good. I fully expect you to take advantage of the days off your supervisor was kind enough to grant you."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Days? As in plural? What did you tell him?"

A self-satisfied smile lifted the corner of the headmistress's mouth. "I might have mentioned the dragon pox. Now, to the library with you!"

"Won't I disturb the students?"

"My dear, students aren't anywhere near the library two days before Christmas."

"I was."

The headmistress's expression spoke volumes. Hermione's laughter echoed off the stone corridor walls.