A Problem: A Problem

 

DISCLAIMER: I am making no money off of this, and this site isn’t either. This is purely fan-fiction written by a weird person who has absolutely nothing better to do than write this stuff. I don’t own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, Snape, etc. J.K.R. does.

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Clouds of vaporous haze wafted out of the top of the shower stall as the jet of hot water finally ended. The glazed glass door was softly prodded open a bit to emit more steam. A hand, thin and bony, reached through the crack and groped uncertainly on the metal rack attached to the wall for a pine green towel. Successful in this endeavor, the hand grasped the towel with the severity of an eagle grasping its prey. In a minute, both hand and towel had disappeared, and in another, the door was thrown wider to reveal--Severus Snape in a towel.

Nonchalantly, Snape drew the fluffy fabric closer to him, which was barely possible considering the fact that it was already so tight against him that one could make out the outline of his skinny figure, and the lines that were his ribs. In a habitual manner, Snape shook his right foot off within the shower to remove excess water, and placed it firmly on the dark green rug on the marble floor. Gingerly, his left foot imitated his right, and Snape was out of the shower. Being a bit overly cautious of not tracking water, he thoroughly wiped his feet on the rug, then strode, scowling, to the mirror.

Severus loathed his looks dearly. The only mirror in his rooms was here, in the bathroom, just so he could be sure of himself every morning after he bathed. Even if his hair was inescapably greasy, it would never do to go out in public looking tousled and un-neat, as though he had just gotten out of bed. Both James and Harry Potter's hair had a way of looking like that, and Snape especially wouldn't be able to bear looking even remotely like them. Anyhow, Snape extended his arm and felt around on the counter for his comb, in order to straighten his unruly wet hair.

He then drew his hand, armed with the all-powerful comb of ultimate doom, to brush...his hair. A few times he randomly pulled the comb from the base of his scalp to the tips of his split ends, until he decided he had better clear up the mirror in order to make his part. The mirror above the counter was covered with a thick layer of miniscule water droplets. Snape wiped them away with the corner of his towel. But then, he nearly gasped in horror. He was aghast at what he saw looking back at him.

He saw, at large, himself of course, which was rather a frightening figure at first glance, actually, but, what really scared him was what he saw resting on top of his head, nestled amid the dark roots of his hair--a white speck of scalp. Snape stared at it a few minutes until he got over the initial shock. With fingers long and wavering, he removed the offending flake from his stringy hair. The steam began to then cloud the mirror again, and Snape hurriedly brushed away the condensation once more.

His view of himself in a towel once more visible, he went on to continue his exploration of the problem. Limaceous fingers brought the teeth of the neat comb flat on his white scalp. In a deft movement, Snape drew the utensil down and out of his hair once more. To his horror, more of those evil white spots were left on the long black spines. Snape's face was grim. "Now, this is a first," he remarked, assessing his freshly discovered problem of dandruff.