Snape sat behind his desk, black eyes shooting from student to student as he watched them fumble over a simple dreamless sleep potion. iUseless.../i he thought bitterly to himself. He had long ago forfeited any hope for these particular students. Gryffindors and Slytherins in the same room would never be anything more than a equation for disaster.

His focus, in particular was a trio of students sitting on the Gryffindor side of the class. One with bright orange hair and freckles splattered upon his face, who, though tall and solid, always managed to appear uncomfortable and clumsy.

Then there was of course the know-it-all with a frizzy mass upon her head. Her features were mousy, far too mundane to make her a beauty, but Severus supposed there would be some sensible man attracted to her intellect, as opposed to her appearance. iCertainly not Weasley./i he sneered to himself.

Then, there was the number one nuisance in his life. The one and only boy-who-lived, Harry James Potter. He had a shaggy mop of black hair, consistently tangled no matter the occasion. He, unlike his best friend, was rather small in stature, short and painfully skinny. He was almost childlike, with his bright emerald eyes appearing almost too large on what was supposed to be an adult face.

It disgusted Severus that something so frail and weak looking could be revelled so highly by an entire nation. It was pathetic.

As if he felt himself being watched, Harry looked up and met the black eyes of his professor. His own green orbs held a look of suspicion and confusion, while Snape's were filled with nothing but contempt and what could only be perceived as pure undiluted hatred.

Harry quickly looked down at his cauldron. In fact, he looked down just in time to see something from across the room fly into his currently perfect and nearly completed potion. It splashed inside just as Harry grasped for it, and as soon as it hit the surface a cloud of steam shot from the now botched potion, burning Harry's hand before he could rip it away.

Harry hissed in pain, jumping back from the workstation as the room began to fill with a thick, hot steam. He clutched his injured hand to his chest and backed away. People in the room had begun coughing and rushing to the door, the air too moist to breathe properly. Harry felt someone tug at his robes and lead him out of the classroom as well, when he could see in the clear air again he saw Hermione with a firm hold on both him and Ron, clearly the one who had directed them out.

The next thing he saw, was the bat of a potions master rushing at him, jaw clenched and eyes set. "Tell me iPotter/i are you a complete idiot at all times, or only when you enter imy/i classroom?" he spat out, only inches from Harry's face now. His breathing had become almost laboured as he tried to control his rage.

"I'm sorry sir, it wasn't my fau-"

"Don'..RUBBISH." Snape snarled out, grabbing the front of Harry's robes. "Do you have iany/i idea what kind chemicals you've exposed your peers to? Hmm? Thirty seconds more in that room and all of them would be idead/i!"

"But I didn't do it! Someone-"

"No more of your excuses Potter. You've botched up far too many simple potions already this year. I won't have you endangering the lives of everyone else because you are too utterly istupid/i to complete something you should have perfected in third year!"

"Sir! Listen to me-"

"Get out! Out of my presence this instant! You will not be setting foot in any classroom of mine for the rest of your time at Hogwarts. Seventh year or not, I won't be putting up with anymore of this!" Snape looked about ready to hit someone, his eyes wide and wild with rage, glaring down at Harry. He let go of his robes and shoved the much smaller boy away from him, before turning on his heel and storming off, spitting out a command for everyone else to go to the hospital wing.

Everyone slowly ebbed out of their state of shock, and began mumbling amongst one another. The Slytherins all shot parting sneers at Harry, who was leaning against a dungeon wall, as they made their way to the hospital wing.

The Gryffidors were at a loss for what to do or say, and simply waited until the Slytherins were out of sight before following the same route.

Ron and Hermione glanced at Harry, who for his part, looked completely at a loss. "Uh, look mate, Snape was just mad. He isn't really kicking you out of a NEWT class. He can't, he knows you need it to become an auror and all..." Ron tried to weakly reassure his best friend.

"He's right Harry! And even if he was serious, Dumbledore would never allow it. You've got nothing to worry about." She was a bit more optimistic about it than Ron was.

Harry nodded weakly, swallowing thickly before mumbling "I suppose so..." he pushed himself off the wall, hiding his now burnt and swollen hand in his robes. "I'm going to go for a bit of a walk...I'll talk to you guys at dinner." He muttered, walking away before they could protest.

Once he was sure Hermione and Ron weren't following, he walked a little slower, allowing Snape's words to sink in. iI really am stupid.../i he thought to himself.

When he finally took care to take notice of his surroundings, he realized he was outside, and it was snowing. He had left his scarf and other winter clothing inside, but didn't want to face his friends quite yet, so he simple trudged on.

His feet crunched in the snow, and his breath was visible in front of his face. He took his hand out from his robes and examined it. It was swollen and looked raw, some spots bloody where the skin had been burnt off, others white with blistering. His wand hand, of course.

He sighed, and placed the burnt hand on the snowy ground, hissing in both pain and relief as the throbbing ebbed away ever so slightly.

iWhy does this always happen to me? Malfoy was the one that ruined that potion, but Snape wouldn't even give me a chance to explain./i

Harry closed his emerald eyes, and flopped back on the snow, the crisp air whipping around him and the cold on his back feeling superb. He knew Snape was being unfair, what else was new, the man hated him because of who he was. He hated the boy-who-lived and the son of his tormentor.

What Snape didn't know, was that Harry hated himself just as much.

He had always been despised, in some manner, starting from when he was only a baby. The Dursleys had treated him like a filthy stray from the moment they got him, locking him in a cupboard and making him do a ridiculous amount of chores. Once he got the letter from Hogwarts, things only got worse. He was beaten daily, something his uncle justified as trying to scare the freakishness out of him. When the rape started, he was told it was to punish him for being what he was. When he was kicked out of their home two years ago, the excuse was that he would taint them with his dirty body.

And so, Harry was alone.

Sure, he had his two best friends, but they were sheltered, and he didn't dare trouble them with shadows from his past. Partially because he wanted to keep them pure, but mostly because he knew they wouldn't want to be around someone so dirty and used.

He dealt with all of his problems on his own; the act of finding a place to stay had not been overly difficult. He stayed in a simple inn during the weekends and holidays. Hogsmade no longer fascinated him the way it used to, he had no desire to buy anything, he didn't deserve it. So he would tell his friends that he was going to look into buying a new broom, or go talk to a teacher about career options, and then he would take off to the isolated little inn that he called his home.

The owner had long ago given Harry and exclusive room, one that no one else could stay in, even when Harry was not present. So he left a majority of his belongings there, knowing they would be safe.

Sighing to himself, he winced when he felt his hand throb, no longer from the pain, but from the cold. He sat up slowly, and looked around. It was dark, and it looked as if the doors to the castle had been closed for the evening. Harry cursed his luck, and began looking around for another way in.

After a few moments, he realized that he was locked outside of the castle for the night. Any hopes of shelter were quickly abandoned. Hagrid was away on Order business, no one was out after curfew (except him), and he was pretty sure that no one would see him through the thick snow falling anyways.

That left him one option, to tough it out and sleep outside.

Just as he was about to go looking for a possible place to bunk for the night, he heard something crunch in the snow, and froze.

Something, or someone, was half walking, half dragging, themselves through the snow.

Harry began looking around, scanning the area for the person. Maybe it would be someone that could help him. He heard a crunch much louder than the others, and then heard nothing more.

Quickly gathering himself, he began walking towards where he heard the last noise, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw something black sprawled out on the snowy ground.