Harry had been right about people finding out. By the time he was out of the Hospital Wing the next morning the whole school was buzzing about Rogers being arrested and by lunch the full story had gotten out. It was in the Daily Prophet the day after that. The only constants after that were Snape and Hermione. Everyone else walked on eggshells around him; not even Malfoy was willing to meet his eye when they passed in the corridor.

But he did as he'd promised Snape. He didn't let it get to him. He walked with his head held high, performed his duties as Potions Assistant, and studied well enough to feel as though he had more than passed his NEWTs when the time came. He was even confident of his Potions NEWT, which Snape had given him a review for the week previous.

On the evening before he and his friends were due to leave on the train for the last time, Harry decided to confront Snape with his feelings. It had been a hell of a year, and with Snape's offer to continue as his Potions Assistant next year while he got his Mastery, he decided he had to know. How was he going to work with the man for a year or more if he was always wondering?

"Hermione, what do you know about the dosage of Felix Felicis?" Harry asked as he and his friends were sitting in the common room.

The bushy-haired witch looked at him strangely. "Not much, Harry," She admitted after a moment's hesitation. "I know that the dosage doesn't affect the strength, only how long your extra luck lasts."

Harry nodded, swallowing thickly. "Okay…but, how much would I need to take to gain, say, an hour of luck?"

"As far as I've discovered," Hermione began slowly. "You'd probably need only about two or three drops. Unlike other potions, though, it varies. It metabolizes differently for different people." She narrowed her eyes at him. "And, if one were to experience a large shock to the system, such as an injury or…oh, I don't know, maybe a rejection, it would diffuse the potion's effects."

The Wizarding Savior blushed, looking away. "How do you always know what I'm thinking?" He stood up from his armchair by the fire. "I'll be back in a bit." He started to move towards his dorm, and Hermione stopped him.

"Harry." He turned to look at her apprehensively, sure she was going to try and talk him out of it. "Be careful, okay?"

Harry grinned, relieved. "You bet, 'Mione." He raced upstairs, retrieved the little golden phial from his trunk, and unstoppered it. It had been impossible to tell through the shimmering golden mixture, but attached to the lid was a dropper. Harry couldn't help a smirk. "He saw me coming."

The Gryffindor didn't have to wait long for the potion to take effect. He could feel his confidence growing, and felt that he could not possibly fail in his endeavor. Any doubts that had weighed on him over the last several months were washed away as the potion moved through his system. He had the sudden idea to go, not to Snape's office, but to his classroom. Deciding that was the potion, he left Gryffindor with the express intent of following Felix's inspiration. It was stupid, it made no sense for Snape to be in his classroom and Harry wouldn't have checked there even if he'd found the man not in his office, but if Felix said so then it must be.

On the trip down to the dungeons, Harry ran into several people but spoke to none of them. Something (Felix) kept telling him that if he delayed by even a moment, he would miss his opportunity. He arrived at the door to the Potions classroom and had raised his fist to knock, only to have the door swing open before his knuckles could connect with the wood.

Snape stopped just short of bowling Harry over. "Potter, what're you-"

"Evening, Professor," Harry said with a grin. "I wondered if we could talk for a moment?"

That little half-smile the Gryffindor adored. "If we must. I was just about to retire to my rooms for the evening, but I suppose I can spare a few minutes for my Potions Assistant. Shall we go to my office?"

Harry nodded and followed as Snape led the way down the corridor to where his office lay just around the corner. Snape opened the door for him to enter first, and Harry walked in just as the torches on the walls flared magically to life. The Potions Master entered as well, closing the door, and walked over to lean against the front of his desk.

"Might I ask what this is concerning?"

The Gryffindor shrugged, smoothing the sleeves of his robes. "Next year, I suppose. You offered to allow me to continue as your assistant, and I decided I couldn't dedicate myself to the task without first doing one of two things." He looked up into that black gaze with a confident smirk.

"Which two things would those be, Mister Potter?"

"Oh, go on, call me 'Harry', Professor. I love it when you call me by my given name," Harry insisted playfully, dancing around the issue.

Snape smirked. "Fine, then, Harry. Which two things did you want to address?"

"Only one, Professor," Harry corrected, still smirking. He started to step slowly towards the relaxed form. "The other will be left for another time."

"Potter, you'll find my patience will not last much longer if you continue this silly game," Snape said, almost playful as his eyes danced in the torchlight.

Harry couldn't help a small chuckle as he came to a stop in front of the man. "Alright, you win. I decided I had to do one of two things, as I said. I could either demand answers for all of the questions you've evaded since that fateful 'not-a-detention' detention, or…" He paused and Snape uncrossed his arms in frustration, standing to his full height.

"Or what, Harry?" He demanded impatiently.

The Gryffindor moved with speed he didn't normally possess and pressed forward, forcing Snape to lean back against his desk. "Or I could make a pass at you. Guess which one I picked."

Snape's Adam's apple bobbed as the man swallowed thickly, bracing himself back against the desk. "Harry, I really don't think that this is the time, or the place-"

"That's not a 'no'," Harry interrupted cockily.

The Slytherin slithered out from between Harry and the desk. Harry followed. "I really must insist that you stop this foolishness, it is no longer funny, if it ever was."

"I'm not joking," Harry purred silkily, still following as Snape backed away. "It's not a prank, not a dare, not a bet or a love potion. I'm quite seriously coming onto you."

"Potter, I don't know what has gotten into you, but-oof," Snape stopped moving, backed against his office wall, and Harry pressed up against him bodily.

He ran a hand into that silky black hair and leaned up on his toes. "I'm still not hearing a 'no', Professor," He murmured, his lips less than an inch from the Potions Master's own. A sudden hand on his shoulder pushed him away.

"No."

Harry gasped as his confidence and happiness shattered with that one word. He could literally feel Felix vanishing, like the last ray of sun behind a bank of dark storm clouds covering his heart. All he could do was stare at Snape for a moment, his body draining of any and all good feeling it had gained on the walk down. He had been so sure…

"Right, sorry," Harry said, backing away further, out of the grasp of the hand on his shoulder. He feigned embarrassed nonchalance. "Just being an idiot. You know how it goes, last day as a student, have to do one last stupid thing to say goodbye."

Snape cleared his throat, smoothing the front of his robes as he moved away from the wall. "Quite," He said tartly. He paused, his gaze softening. "Though…you are coming back next year, as my assistant, so it isn't really goodbye for you."

Harry looked away and nodded awkwardly. "Y-yeah, I-I think it is." He stammered. "I don't think I should come back next year. You've gotten along fine without an assistant all these years, you don't really need me."

"Potter, if it's this little transgression you're worried about, you don't have to-"

"It's not," Harry said firmly. "I mean, it is, but it isn't. I just, um…" He trailed off, and when he looked up he'd plastered on a grin. "Forget it, like I said, stupid. Saw an opportunity, decided to go for it. Call it Gryffindor foolishness." He started to back away towards the door. "I-I'm gonna go. 'Mione's probably wondering where I am, and Ron said something about butterbeers earlier."

"Potter-"

"Don't worry, Professor. No harm done, really, it was just an ego trip, a one-off to, uh, to see what might happen. Exploring my sexuality, if you like," Harry interrupted with false joviality. "I-I'll see you around, okay?" He turned and headed for the exit as quickly as he could without running.

"Harry, wait!"

The Gryffindor didn't stop, or turn, he simply opened the door and, as soon as he was in the corridor, bolted for the Seventh Floor. Part of him wanted to find Hermione and curl up with his head in her lap as he wailed his sorrows, but she and Ron had been nigh on inseparable since Valentine's Day. Instead, he made his way to the Room of Requirement, where he could lament in peace. He'd known from the start that Snape would never return his feelings, he didn't know why now he had suddenly decided that had changed. He couldn't even blame the potion for his stupidity, since he'd taken it only after deciding to confront the man.

One thing was certain: he was not returning to Hogwarts next year. He couldn't face the man who had unknowingly broken his heart.