Harry is frustrated by the time Severus emerges from his laboratory with a fizzy pink potion, sputtering in the vial it is contained in. It looks to Harry as if it is defiantly trying to break free of its restraints and he eyes it warily.

“It will not harm you, Harry,” Severus says, but Harry is not inclined to believe him. Because the potion is pink and fizzing and sputtering.

Harry shifts away as Severus comes closer and sits next to him on the couch. “Sir—”

“Harry. I am quite certain you do not want me to cut your hair.”

“No, sir,” Harry agrees, because he most certainly does not want Severus anywhere near his hair ever again. Especially not with a pair of sharp scissors. But he most definitely does not want a sputtering, fizzy pink potion there either.

Severus clears his throat. “You have not brushed your hair in a month,” he begins, and Harry flushes. “I have no doubt your mother would have shaved your head three weeks ago—” (Harry gasps, 'she wouldn't!' But Severus smirks) “—oh, yes, Potter, have no doubt about that. She would. Yet, here I am with a potion.”

Harry bites his lip, gnawing at it nervously. “But, sir...it's pink,” he finally whispers and Severus laughs.