Harry Potter let the fingers of his left hand trail through the crisp, white snow. There had been a storm the night before – the first of the winter – and Harry felt his heart pound loudly in his ears. Snow meant that school was closer to being finished for the year.

Five years of alternating between Hogwarts and the Dursleys left Harry conflicted. He loved the magical school, but every year it got harder to leave. His hand clenched into a fist, compacting a bit of snow into a ball. It was cold and he knew that if he held on long enough it would make his hand numb.

Harry wished he could make his heart numb.

The Dursleys. Hogwarts. Winter. Leaving. Again.

The thoughts swirled around in his head like a never ending storm of thoughts.

“Winter of my soul,” Harry whispered aloud.

Nose wrinkling in a sudden spirit of rage, the student pulled his arm back, swung around on his heels and threw the snowball as hard as he could. All of his anger at the injustice of life propelled the small missile, giving it power.

Thud.

Harry blinked his green eyes. There was no way on earth he had just hit Professor Severus Snape in the head. None. Whatsoever.

“Potter! Detention!” the words were hissed through tightly clenched teeth.

The snowball was still stuck to the professor's forehead, small avelanches of flakes leading outward from it. Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing even as his insides turned to ice. He was in so much trouble.

A giggle escaped. A moment later Harry, to his horrified fascination, found himself rolling in the snow overcome with a fit of hysterical laughter. If he had looked up at that moment, the boy would have seen Snape's mouth twitch upward at the corners before returning instantly to a grim line.

“See me in my office,” the Professor said before brushing the snow off and walking away, his black robes billowing to the sound of a young boy's laughter.