The next morning, Harry was woken by the sound of soft hissing. Looking around, he saw two snakes slithering onto the side of his bed.

Ice! Shadow! he hissed softly. Where have you guys been? I haven't seen you in ages!

Our apologies, young master, the white snake said, speaking for both of them, We were exploring the castle for the last few weeks and we stayed with the large one.

The large one?

The one who lives in the cabin.

Oh! Harry suddenly realized who they were talking about. You mean Hagrid?

I do not know his name, young master. He is large and has a long, black beard. He gave us rats to eat.

Harry smiled at the mental image of Hagrid, feeding his snakes rats. The kind half-giant had always loved dangerous animals. Perhaps he should go introduce his snakes to him after all.

He stood up, grabbing his robes and getting dressed. Have you seen Flame lately? He asked. He hadn't seen his pet phoenix in a while either.

I believe she is in the Owlery, Shadow replied. She hid herself in the form of an owl so no one would be able to recognize her.

Good. Harry nodded as he checked the time. Sorry guys, but I've have to go. I have transfiguration in... ten minutes. Bye!

With that, he raced out of the room.

Transfiguration passed quickly (in which Professor McGonagal had them doing research on human transfiguration), as did Charms and Lunch. After a long Double DADA block with the Gryffindors (In which Ron kept shooting him glares and with Remus looking between the two of them with a puzzled look on his face), Harry headed to dinner, feeling sick and queasy. He had no appetite at all, but because of Eliza, he had no choice but to eat. As it was, he only nibbled on a small piece of chicken.

"What's wrong, Sebastien?" Eliza asked worriedly, looking at the amount of food her friend was eating.

Harry managed a faint smile. "Nothing, I'm fine, Eliza." He turned back to poking at his food.

There was one main reason why he was feeling worried: Potions. Although they didn't have a potions class until the day after tomorrow, Harry still had his Advanced Potions lessons with Severus. And one Advanced Potions lesson was about to take place soon. About half an hour after dinner, in fact.

When everyone began heading out of the Great Hall, Harry followed, going into the Slytherin Common Room to grab his potions bag. He was about to leave early when someone called out his name.

"Sebastien?"

Turning, he saw Draco standing in front of him. But this time, there was no sneer or scorn in the boy's expression. Instead, there was a hesitant smile.

"Draco? What's wrong?"

"I--- er... I wanted to apologize, Sebastien. The way I behaved was unacceptable. I'm sorry."

Harry looked in surprise at the blond in front of him. In all the six years he had been at Hogwarts, he couldn remember a single time when the aristocratic boy had apologized to anyone, never mind the Boy-Who-Lived, his past nemesis. With a second pause to recover, his shocked face morphed into a smile, as he pulled the other boy into a tight hug. "It's alright, Draco," he said softly, "Apology accepted."

Draco grinned at him. "Good," he said, "Now I can stop arguing with you."

Harry just nodded as he checked his watch. "Oops, sorry, Draco, I have to run. I have lessons with Sev-- Professor Snape in two minutes."

The blond winced sympathetically. "Good luck, Sebastien. Hopefully, he won't be too hard on you."

Nodding his thanks, Harry walked out of the room, a sinking feeling in his stomach quickly replacing the ecstatic relief he had felt from the encounter with Draco. He couldn't help thinking: this would be the first time he and Severus would be alone since.... then.

As he reached Severus' dungeon rooms, he reached out and knocked softly on the door, for once waiting for admission. As Severus' annoyed "Come in," rang through the air, he took a deep breath to calm his agitated nerves, cautiously stepped into the dark room and gently closed the door behind him.

"Frostpine!" Severus barked, his eyes glinting with sudden fury. "What are you doing here?"

Harry took a step back, suddenly very frightened. "Er... for Potions lessons, sir."

"Did I not tell you that your Potions Apprenticeship is now over?" the man spat out.

"But sir, I thought we still had Advanced Potions together..." Harry trailed off.

As the seconds stretch for what seemed like an eternity, his former mentor just looked at him, shooting a hard penetrating glare that unnerved Harry to the very bone. He attempted to return the stare and steady his breath, but began to feel uncomfortable, fidgeted slightly under the Potions Master gaze. Finally...

"Very well," Severus snapped, the distaste evident in his voice. "Get out a cauldron and start working."

By 8:30 pm, Harry had to admit that this was the worst lesson he'd ever been to in his life. Just after the first miserable hour he had been prepared to re-endure every detention he had suffered with Snape over the years of being his most hated student, if only to be released then and there from the Advanced Potions class. While he was "Potter", the insults had always been rude and scathing, but now they were even more personal, including sarcastic implyings of him being responsible for Cedric and others' deaths. The Potions Master even preyed on the more humiliating moments Harry had spent with him, hinting at his pathetic weakness for crying openly and his childish nature at having screamed from imple nightmares? All of Harry more open moments were tactically turned against him, all his guilt and sorrow over Sirius and his parents picked at and scornfully mocked. To go even further, the man distictly implied about how "Great Harry Potter" being abused by "weak muggle relatives." Harry had soon decided if there was one thing Severus was better at, then sarcasm was it.

Only nearing the end of the lesson, already having steadily ignored or avoided the rampage of insults and degrading of his skills, did he find he couldn't stand it any more.

"Professor," he said coldly, interrupting the Potions Master's tirade. "I was just wondering why you have so much criticism over my work when just weeks ago, you said it was fine, even greatly exceeding standard?"

Severus turned to him, his black eyes shining menacingly with a triumphant smirk at having found an excuse for punishment. "Detention, Frostpine, for interrupting a teacher, and ten points from Gryffindor for your cheek."

"But I'm not in Gryffindor!" Harry protested hotly.

"Oh really, Potter?" The loathing was evident, the fury blazing.

"Yes!" Harry cried. He couldn't stand this anymore. "The Sorting Hat wanted, no practically begged to put me in your precious Slytherin, but I convinced it to put me in Gryffindor instead!"

Severus looked about to speak, but Harry continued on, not giving him the chance.

"And Professor," he continued fervently, stressing the title with added sarcasm, "I'm tired of you insulting me with every turn. Everything I do, everything I say -whether it's meant to offend or not- you're always at my back, taking points away or giving out detentions. I'm tired of it! You think it's my fault that I had to deceive you? You think I WANTED to lie to you? NO! I was forced to for my safety and for others'. I was under orders to not tell anyone about who I was other than Dumbledore. I didn't want to lie to any of you, but I had no choice! So STOP BLAMING ME FOR EVERYTHING!"

"Twenty points for yelling, Potter," came the scathing response, "And you-- you, saying that you were under orders, then WHOSE orders were you under, may I ask? It obviously isn't Dumbledore's, and unless you have suddenly taken a desperate fancy to taking instructions from Voldemort, I see no one else whom you could possibly take orders from. So, in other words, you deceived me, Draco and your doting Gryffindor fan club on purpose!"

Harry calmed himself by taking deep breaths. He understood that the evasive answer he was going to give in reply would do nothing but serve as fuel for Severus' outrage, but he concluded that he had little to no choice.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you, Professor. Only Dumbledore is to know. But I assure you, it was not my choice to not tell you. It wasn't my--"

"Just leave, Potter."

The response surprised Harry: Severus wanted him to leave now? "Sir, I didn't---"

"I said leave, Potter. You mean nothing to me. You're just an arrogant murderer, just like your father. Your mother died because of you, and so did all the others. Just go."

Harry froze at the cruel words. He saw the look of loathing and disgust in the Potions Master's eyes and was filled with a sense of loss and sorrow as he looked at the man whom he had come to view as a father-figure.

"Severus, I---"

Whack!

The sharp, stinging slap rang loudly in the room. There was a moment of silence. Harry's right hand flew to his cheek, biting his lips to keep from crying out. The tender skin turned pink and was beginning to swell. But the rage he saw in Severus' eyes hurt him more than any physical wound ever could.

"Don't call me that, Potter! Leave immediately!" The words were steel, the tone, ice, as Severus spat out the name in utter disgust.

Harry just looked at the man standing in front of him. "I thought you cared," he whispered almost inaudibly. "I thought you understood. I guess you're just like everyone else then. Don't worry, I won't be coming back."

He spun angrily on his heel, heading quickly out of the room before the stinging hot tears that lined his eyes could be noticed. As he flung shut the door behind him, the full implications of what had happened hit him with the force of a herd of rampaging Hippogriffs.'

He leaned weakly against the cold, stone wall, sliding to the ground as his legs collapsed from underneath him. The world seemed to spin around him as he closed his eyes.

Severus hated him. Severus, the father-like figure he had come to respect and admire, perhaps even to love. The sarcastic Potions Master who had overcome his own coldness to comfort him, to save him from depression. Harry's heart was heavy as he chuckled harshly. It had been a lie, all a lie. A dream that would never truly be, a wish that would never be fulfilled. All because he was Harry Bloody Potter.

He allowed the tears to come as he wept, wept for his losses and sorrows. He wept for the man that would never be, for the friendship and parent-figure that he would never gain. His body shook with sobs as he wallowed in pity and self disgust.

After what seemed like hours, the tears would no longer come. Instead a flood of hopelessness washed over him, engulfing him in misery until he felt numb.

He stood up and began to walk aimlessly, not paying attention to exactly where he was going. He couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with despair: what reason did he have left for living? He was tired to being the damn Boy-Who-Lived, tired of the burdens, the endless expectations. He just wanted it all to end.

He found himself in Moaning Mrytle's bathroom. Thankfully, the ghost was nowhere in sight.

He walked into a stall as he sat down. Waving his hand, he transfigured one of the buttons on his robes into a knife.

He laid the knife on his palm, feeling the cool, calming metal against his skin. The sharp blade gleamed dangerously in the fading light. Slowly, he raised the handle and brought it down.

He watched the wound as the maroon-red blood seeped up, a single trickle running down his arm. He felt a slight prickle of pain as he cut down again, fascinated by the precious, life-giving liquid. At least the ache dulled the grief and anguish.

He cut again and again as memories overwhelmed him. The pale skin as soon marred with fresh cuts and scars. He cut out a pattern, carving a snake upon himself.

When he ran out of space on his left arm, he turned to his right arm, repeating his earlier actions.

He recalled Severus' earlier words as he brought the knife down, pushing deeper and deeper each time. He applied more pressure, watching detachedly as the life-giving blood seeped out of him. He began to feel dizzy as more time passed.

Spots danced at the edge of his vision as he knees collapsed underneath him.

His knife clattered to the ground in finality, as Harry closed his eyes and slipped into sweet oblivion.