Severus gripped the washbasin tightly, his knuckles white with the effort. He'd never thought he'd be in the position he was in. And why would he be? Severus recognised his worth as a talented wizard and an indispensable potions master, highly valued by both sides of the war. There had been nobody who could've told him to do something like this and get away with it. Until now. Until the person had been the Dark Lord himself. He had, of course, contemplated not doing it or using a glamour but those feeble ideas would inevitably prove to be ineffective before the greatest Dark Lord in decades. He had followed this train of thought before, to no avail. Yet, as he stood there, on the cusp of the deep, his desperate mind went down that path again. Finally, he accepted it. This was going to happen. The least he could do was do it quickly and painlessly.
His mind made, he grit his teeth and poured shampoo on his head for the first time in over a decade.