She became aware that she was still kneeling at Severus’s feet, half-between his legs, and his shirt and frock coat were splayed open. It rather felt like she had cracked open his ribcage, spreading out the protective armour of his clothes and buttons, leaving him bare and vulnerable. He was so pale. Lean, too, on the verge of being underfed; there were shallow hollows between each rib. Watching his chest rise and fall with each breath felt sacred, stolen, something she shouldn’t bear witness to. Despite all the rumours, Severus Snape  did  have a heart. At least a purely mechanical one, one that kept him alive. She could see it. There was a faint smattering of black hair on his chest, trailing down to his navel, disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. 