Harry watched in silent dismay, his face carefully blank as he felt pieces of his heart fracture away with each word the Potions Master spoke at the front of the classroom. It was Severus' birthday and Harry had decided that it was the perfect opportunity to tell the man of his feelings. Said feelings had developed a few months ago, after nearly a year of what he would hesitantly call friendship between them. It had begun with a simple, tired-of-fighting apology from Harry, and a few weeks later had developed into a near-nightly meeting to talk about anything and everything. Because of this development in their relationship, and his aforementioned feelings, Harry had spent the last few weeks seeking out the perfect gift to reveal his feelings.

Snape paced behind his desk where the gift, a simple package as-yet unopened, sat innocently while the Potions Master expounded on the merits of 'not pranking a trained spy'. Harry couldn't breathe. He had thought that the sacrifices between them, their friendship, had bred mutual trust. He was wrong, made clearer with each sneering glare Snape shot him.

"I will not comment on the disgustingly sappy card, except to say that it might have been a nice touch if my benefactor had not pressed their advantage by detailing their wildly exaggerated feelings. As one of you felt the need to be cute today, your Potions assignment will be to go through your books and select one of the many test potions to use on this ridiculous attempt at a practical joke." Snape sneered at the box.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as he felt tears threaten and a lump begin to form in his throat. He wouldn't let himself cry, couldn't let the Slytherins know whose humiliation this was. He pulled his book from his bag and placed it on his desk, drawing a shuddering breath before flipping it open to the chapter he and Snape had spent hours poring over only last month so that Harry could tell whether his Christmas presents were safe. Obviously, this was meant as a dig towards him, since the majority of the potions were far below the advanced-level class. He selected the same one Severus had helped him brew at Christmas, just because he knew he wouldn't have to concentrate on it very much.

Snape continued his lecture. "As Seventh Years, I find myself surprised, despite myself, at the lack of grace and subtlety." Harry flinched as though he'd been struck, recalling the same words being chuckled the week before when he'd tripped over the man's couch in exhaustion on New Year's Eve. He bent his head as he felt the tears begin to fall despite his attempts to stop them.

Harry began to work on his potion, his hands automatically adjusting the recipe based on Snape's previous advice. He heard footsteps coming down the aisle between the desks and turned his head to the side, sighing as a tear landed in his half-finished potion. Immediately, the color of the potion started to turn a violent purple, leeching outward into the proper green coloring. He grabbed the sesame seeds Snape had taught him to keep on hand (used in most potions to leech out biological material) and began crushing them in his mortar just as Snape stopped at his desk.

"How incompetent can you be, Potter?"

Harry squeezed his eyes shut as several of his classmates' eyes turned towards them. This was the first time Snape had said anything even resembling cruel to him in months, and Harry could tell by their glances that they were contemplating the real purpose of the assignment.

"I asked you a question, Potter. Are you too incompetent to answer? Has your brain fried from exposure to camera flash-bulbs? You are a disgrace to the art of potion-making, Potter." Snape sneered down at him.

Harry slammed his mortar and pestle onto the table, causing more than half the class to jump, and turned to glare up at the Potions Master. His lower lip trembled as his tears fell harder. "Go to hell," He muttered. The young wizard reached down and grabbed his bag, shoving the Potions Master out of his way as he fled the room angrily.

As soon as he was in the corridor, he stopped and took a deep, shuddering breath, looking up at the ceiling. Behind him, he could hear the beginnings of Snape telling the class to go back to work. He sobbed at being dismissed on top of everything, and made his way down the corridor, not really paying attention to where his feet were taking him. After several long minutes, he heard the bell signaling the end of class. The sound of footsteps began to echo in the corridors and Harry took off running, knowing he would be found and confronted by one of his friends. He wound up outside and ignored it as the icy wind bit at him.

The young, broken-hearted wizard tripped on a solid bank of snow and fell to his knees on the pebbled beach of the frozen lake, sobbing as it began snowing for the third time that week. He sat back on his heels and stared up at the dark and brooding sky that reflected his mood perfectly. A sudden weight on his shoulders startled him from his thoughts. He looked and discovered the cloak he'd left in the Potions classroom.

Harry glared up at the Potions Master stood above him. "Not done humiliating me yet?" He demanded. He pushed himself off of the snow-covered ground and turned to walk away. A hand on his wrist stopped him.

"Harry, wait-"

The wizarding savior turned sharply, pulling his arm out of the grip. "You have no right to call me that, not after your little performance in there. I thought-" He stopped and let out a steam of breath. "Forget it, just leave me alone."

He turned to walk away again, but this time the hand grabbed his bicep, swinging him around into a strong embrace and desperate kiss. He shoved the Potions Master away. "What the hell are you doing, Severus? I told you to leave me alone!"

"You're acting like a child, Potter!"

Harry scoffed. "Am I? Well, I suppose it would take one to know one, wouldn't it?" He took a step back as the long fingers reached out for him. "Don't touch me, and don't come near me again. Hope you had a nice birthday, Professor." He turned once more to leave and this time Snape let him.