Whooo, something that I've been working on for a while. Just another little piece with Severus and Harry :)

I don't own Harry Potter or anything affiliated with it! Enjoy!

Of Boredom and Broom Cupboards

There always was something not quite right about the broom cupboard in the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry. Of course, nobody knew exactly what it was, or how it had ever come to be, but there was always something a little interesting.

Of course, sixteen-year-old Harry Potter had never heard the rumors, how the doors sometimes shut for hours at a time on students and teachers alike. And so the boy had no qualms whatsoever about sauntering inside to grab a broom from the school's limited and rather mediocre selection. Harry's Firebolt was kept safely below his bed, seeing as he had hardly even been able to look at it since Sirius' death. The old gift caused too many memories.

Harry, with his back turned to the door, did not see Severus Snape, feared Potions Master, slide up behind him.

"Mr. Potter," he began silkily. "I believe you have a broom of your own, do you not? What business would you have with the school brooms then?"

The door to the cupboard shut with a resounding crack, leaving the two of them in complete and utter darkness. Light from Severus' wand filled the space abruptly, and Harry hurried over to the door and attempted to open it, to no avail.

"Bloody wonderful," Harry grumbled, and moved as far away from the Potions Master as he could in the tight space, settling himself against the wall and pulling his knees into his chest. Severus settled in on the other side of the cupboard, his wand still lit in his hand. He placed it on the stone floor beside him.

"If this is a prank, Mr. Potter, I will not hesitate to have you serving detentions until you are old and grey," the man threatened, eyes narrowed as he stared at the boy.

Harry didn't answer, his eyes staring at the bit of stone between his feet. His chest was heaving, his breath coming in gasps as he both welcomed and fought the urge to curl in on himself. His thin arms wrapped tightly around his knees and he placed his sweaty forehead in the small gap between his legs.

Severus stared. "Potter, what are you doing?" he questioned hesitantly, nervousness stirring in the pit of his stomach. When the boy did not respond, he demanded, "What is wrong with you, boy?"

Harry had begun to rock gently back and forth, murmuring soft protests into the musty air. His forehead shone with beads of sweat; his face was pale as death. However, at the last word, his head snapped up, revealing wild green eyes.

Severus watched him carefully, rising from his sitting position and moving to stand over Harry. "What is happening, Potter?" He shifted closer.

Harry stiffened and scrambled back further against the wall. He fumbled for his wand and pointed it clumsily at the black-clad man before him. "No, sir. No. Don't come any closer. I mean it, Uncle. I'm not afraid to use it this time."

Severus gave the boy an immensely confused look, continuing to creep forward. "What in the name of Merlin are you talking about?"

When the boy curled in on himself once again, Severus stopped, halfway between the door of the cupboard and the young wizard in the corner. Harry's breathing steadily increased until he was nearly hyperventilating, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly in the wandlight.

Severus crept forward and placed a tentative hand on the boy's shoulder. Harry flinched back violently and gasped out, "Don't touch me." There was just enough venom in his voice to make Severus back off again. He retreated to the other side of the cupboard and sat with his back against the wall, watching the struggling boy in confusion.

Within an hour, Harry had begun to calm down. No one had let them out yet, and Severus had not moved from his position against the wall. When Harry locked eyes with him, Severus seized his opportunity.

"Potter, what happened there?" The boy gazed at him defiantly across the cupboard, so Severus abandoned that particular question and moved on. "Well, then tell me: Why did you come here for a broom? If my memory serves me correctly" – and it did – "you have a Firebolt, the most advanced broom in the world at the present time. Why would you choose to fly these old Cleansweep Fives and Comet 260s?"

"It was a gift," Harry mumbled into his knees.

"I beg your pardon?"

"It was a gift from Sirius."

Severus felt his face harden at the mention of his sworn enemy, but he maintained his composure. "I see, and why do you feel the need to neglect such a high class racing broom?"

Harry shifted his shoulders uneasily before he threw them back and responded. "Because it reminds me of him every time I look at it, and I can't bear to think about him because it's all my fault that he's – that he's – that he's dead."

Severus examined him carefully across the small cupboard. "I see. And why – pray tell – would you jump to that conclusion?"

The boy stared him down across the cupboard. "Don't play games with me, Professor."

Severus nearly smiled incredulously. "Clearly you know I am not one to play games. Let me ask again: why would you possibly come to the conclusion that you are responsible for your godfather's death?"

Harry looked at the ground. "I shouldn't have gone in the first place. Hermione tried to convince me not to, but I blew her off and went anyway. If I hadn't gone, none of it would have happened!"

"Potter, you cannot blame yourself for Black's decision. He was a grown man, capable of making his own choices. No one forced him to come to the Department of Mysteries and fight for you. You did not make him. It was his own choice," Severus returned, still looking intently at the boy sitting across from him.

"But I only went because I saw a vision. . . . I should have practiced Occlumency and put more effort into it. I could have – I could have –" His voice was thick with unshed tears, his chest heaving.

"Let me remind you of something: I threw you out of my office. I was the one who terminated your lessons in Occlumency, and I admit that I did not take the best approach to instructing you in the art, either," the professor admitted, resting his head back against the side of the cupboard and wondering why he was comforting the boy at all. Reluctantly, he added, "So if you would like to cast the blame for your godfather's death on anyone, cast it on me."

Although Harry's eyes looked a bit clearer, his voice was dead when he replied, "No. I could have been better."

"Considering the way I was teaching you, I doubt it."

Harry threw his hands upward in desperation. "Then why? Why would you do that? Dumbledore asked you to instruct me, so you tortured me and hindered me from actually learning? Why?"

Severus' eyes flashed dangerously. "I do not intend to explain myself to you, Potter."

Silence filled the broom cupboard. Tension made the air thick as each refused to look at the other occupant of the small space.

Finally, Harry ventured, "Do you think anyone even knows we're here?" His eyes flickered nervously toward the door, which was still firmly shut. The darkness was not even broken by a chink of light at the bottom of the door.

"Surely your friends are looking for you by now," Severus growled, watching the uneasy teen curiously. "Tell me about what happened earlier, Potter. Do you get panic attacks like that often?"

Harry clenched his teeth audibly. He stared across the broom cupboard in tense silence, before finally relaxing a bit. He sighed and ground out, "Sometimes."

There was another pause as Severus considered whether or not he should continue pursuing the topic. "And what causes them? Being locked in dark, enclosed spaces?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess. It's not a big deal," he muttered, looking at the dark space between his feet and trying to make himself relax. The last thing he wanted was Snape running down to the Slytherin common room and letting everyone – including Malfoy – know that Harry Potter was afraid of broom cupboards.

Severus scoffed. "I highly doubt that crippling panic attacks should be classified as 'not a big deal,'" he retorted. "How long have you been having them?"

"A while." Reluctant.

"And what exactly is it that makes you panic when the cupboard door locks and closes?" Severus asked again, fairly interested. For the first time, he was seeing a very human side of Harry Potter. He was seeing a Harry Potter that was hurt and scared. Severus didn't know what to do, but he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Harry didn't answer. He refused to reveal all of his deepest, darkest secrets from the Dursleys' to his hated Potions professor – his hated Potions professor who Harry knew hated him even more.

Severus pressed, "Was it a childhood nightmare of being locked up? Or perhaps you accidentally locked yourself in a cupboard when you were younger? Every fear has its root, Potter, and this one does as well."

Harry scowled and drew his knees up to his chest. He rested his chin on his knees, wrapping thin arms around his legs. Although he finally decided to close his eyes and ignore the pressing feeling of being trapped, he was far from falling asleep.

An hour passed, during which Harry stretched his cramped legs out in front of him and Severus moved to the door to begin knocking on it. The older man was still threatening a full term's worth of detention for any student who passed by without letting them out.

"Lumos," Harry whispered quietly, and the tip of his wand lit up brilliantly. He shined it around his side of the cupboard, inspecting the brooms that were leaning up against the wall behind him. His throat still felt tight and constricted, but distracting himself was helping slightly.

"You should have practiced casting that wordlessly," Severus criticized from the other side of the room. He had stopped trying to knock down the door and now simply leant up against it.

Harry turned around, his face and voice hard. "I'm sorry, Professor, but the last thing on my mind at the moment is trying to cast nonverbal spells."

The Potions professor's face twisted angrily at Harry's words. "Show some –"

"I was locked in a cupboard when I was little," Harry interrupted suddenly. "That's why I freak out. I was locked in a cupboard."

Severus' face still held traces of anger, but he regarded the boy curiously. He distinctly noticed that the boy hadn't said that he had locked himself in a cupboard, but rather just mentioned that he had been locked in one. "For how long?"

Harry shrugged and looked away, wondering how he could be at least partially honest without revealing anything. "I don't know. It felt like days, but I was little and scared. It could have been five minutes, for all I know."

"Potter, you are trying to tell me that five minutes in a cupboard sparked panic attacks as severe as the one you suffered earlier?" Severus asked incredulously, raising one eyebrow.

Harry just shrugged again. Severus suddenly recalled the Harry's words as he had approached the panicking boy. He had mentioned his uncle, telling him to stay away. He had threatened to use his wand. And suddenly it was all starting to dawn on him.

When the man spoke again, his voice was significantly softer. "How often did they lock you up, Potter?"

Harry stiffened abruptly, his eyes flickering toward the door anxiously. When he looked up, Severus' cold heart twisted at the familiar, dead look that had entered the boy's eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about, Professor. I accidentally locked myself in, playing hide-and-seek or something stupid with my cousin."

"Do not lie to me, Potter. How often?"

Harry looked at the floor for a long moment before looking back up again. Severus could see the deadness warring with anguish in Harry's eyes. Harry finally spoke, his voice so quiet that it was nearly inaudible. "Every day."

Severus' eyes flashed with anger as he exclaimed, "Every day? They punished you by locking you up every day?"

"Punished?" Harry laughed bitterly, humorlessly. "It was hardly because I was being punished, Professor. I was locked up because the cupboard under the stairs was my bedroom. It was where I lived, where I slept. Punishments were days spent locked in the cupboard without food and sometimes water."

"And your uncle, Potter?"

"My name is Harry," the boy spat. "And what about him?"

"What did he do to you, Harry?"

A glimmer of fear shone in Harry's eyes for a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "He didn't do anything that I couldn't handle. He's awfully mean, but it only gets really bad when gets angry or drunk." He took a deep breath. "Mainly, I just had to do all the chores – still have to, I guess. I work like a house elf around that house: doing all the cooking and cleaning, staying silent and out of the way. But if you're asking if he hits me, he doesn't really. I've taken a few smacks, burned hands, and hits from the frying pan, but who hasn't? And like I said, for the most part it's only bad when he's really angry."

Severus' voice was soft again when he asked, "Why didn't you ever tell anyone?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry retorted angrily, his voice rising. "I've asked Dumbledore time and time again if I could stay at Hogwarts over the summer or just stay with Ron at the Burrow! I've tried to tell him. But no, I have to return to that goddamn hellhole because of the blood wards. Merlin, they're almost as bad as Voldemort himself. He may be trying to kill me, but he'll never create the kind of pain that crying every night alone in a dark cupboard under the stairs did. He'll never make me feel as utterly alone and unwanted and worthless as they did and always will do!

"Hogwarts was my way out! Sure, I was excited about the magic and the castle and the new world outside of my own, but you better believe that the real reason that I was so excited about discovering that I was a wizard was because it got me out of that house! And every year, I'd do anything not to go back, but I always have to anyway, don't I?"

Severus looked at Harry for a long time after his tirade. "Harry, the Headmaster is not sending you back to an abusive household because that is what he wants for you. He is sending you back there because he has to in order to keep you safe. He knows that your home life is unpleasant, but I highly doubt that he knows the extent of what you experience there." Harry scowled, but the Potions Master continued anyway. "However, I will report this to Professor Dumbledore so that he does know what is happening."

Harry started. "No, please don't! If you tell Dumbledore, he'll talk to my aunt and uncle! You don't understand – they'll kill me!"

"Harry, you can hardly expect me to listen to all of this and not tell anyone about it," Severus began pointedly, but Harry quickly cut him off.

"That's exactly what I expect you to do! You asked the questions, and all I did was answer them. You're the only person who I've ever told about this, and I fully expect you to keep it that way, okay? Dumbledore's never really cared, and the last thing I want is for him to suddenly become concerned. He always wanted me to be strong, but I've had no other option for the last fifteen years. I am what I've always had to be."

Tears sprung into Harry's eyes as he continued. "When I was little, I prayed every night that someone would come and save me. All I wanted was for someone to rescue me and take me far, far away from the Dursleys, whose apparent life philosophy was to beat the magic out of me – as if that would work. But guess what, Professor?" Harry angrily wiped at the tears that were rolling down his cheeks. "All I wanted was for someone to care, but no one ever did. I grew awfully used to being alone and uncared for in this world. So the last thing that I need now is for people like Dumbledore to suddenly find out and act like they've cared all along."

"Surely you know that the Headmaster cares for you," Severus offered. He related so much to the young boy that he felt like his heart was breaking. It was a strange feeling for him, so used to observing everything through a haze of bitter anger and hatred.

"Maybe that's true, but he's got a sick way of showing it," Harry retorted angrily, tears still running down his cheeks. He used the edges of his sleeves to dry his cheeks.

"There is not much that he can do in this situation, Harry. He still has to protect you, and keeping you within the blood wards protects you. You need to realize that if you leave that home with the intention of never going back, the blood wards fall. From that moment on, you are in danger wherever you go – with the exception of Hogwarts. Anyone you stay with is automatically put in danger as well."

"So I could stay here over the summer, couldn't I? And even if I couldn't, there are plenty of people who are more than capable of keeping me safe without me having to live with the Dursleys! You could!" Harry implored, running his hands through his hair.

Severus smirked and remarked, "You would rather live with me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, sir," Harry scoffed, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He laughed a little to hide the grave meaning behind his words. "I'd rather live in a house full of rotting flobberworms than live with my relatives, and I mean that. Besides, at least you wouldn't abuse me for magic or physically hurt me, right?"

The smirk slid off the Potions Master's face like water. "I would never harm you." He rolled his wand between his hands. "Besides, I've spent nearly six years working my arse off just to keep you breathing. I hardly think I should throw away all that hard work for some foolish act or remark."

"Thought so." Harry smiled. "I always wondered why you did that, especially when you never failed to let me know how much you hated my father. But then I saw your memory – sorry about that, by the way – and I saw how you and my mum interacted. And it's because of her, isn't it?"

Severus looked at the boy thoughtfully. "I promised her that I would protect you," he finally replied, and left it at that.

oOoOo

An hour later, the door to the broom cupboard finally unlocked and swung open. Severus stood up, dusted himself off, and stepped out the door. He fully expected to see a smiling Headmaster standing in the entrance hall, but to his surprise, it was empty and dimly lit by the torches lining the walls. Severus waved his wand and they brightened.

Harry followed him out of the cupboard, looking around and blinking as his eyes adjusted to the brighter light.

"So if there's no one here, who let us out?" Harry asked, bewildered. "I thought that Dumbledore finally found us or something, but this – It couldn't have been the cupboard, could it have?"

Severus arched one eyebrow skeptically. "The cupboard? You legitimately believe that the cupboard let us out?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Think about it: the cupboard definitely locked us in. If that's the case, then why couldn't it have let us out too?"

"I – That doesn't make any logical sense." Severus paused. "Follow me. I am certain that it is past curfew; let me accompany you to your dormitory."

They set off up the stairs toward Gryffindor tower, pausing when they finally reached the portrait of the Fat Lady that guarded the entrance.

Severus reached out as if to put his hand on the boy's shoulder, but he quickly thought better of the idea and dropped his arm back to his side. "Harry, I – you know where my office is, should you ever need me." He began walking away, but turned around again when he reached the edge of the staircase. "And over the summer holidays, you can always reach me by owl. Please remember that if – if your home circumstances get out of hand."

With those words, the man nodded and headed down the stairs. Harry watched him go, shocked by his offer of help and advice. Perhaps he would take the professor up on his offer. Harry certainly didn't like the man by any means, but for the first time, someone actually showed true concern for the well-being of the Golden Boy beyond ensuring that he was alive and able to fight. For the first time, someone had actually listened and cared.

Harry didn't know exactly what had happened down there in that broom cupboard, but he was surprised to find that he didn't quite mind the fact that he had spent the evening locked in with his Potions professor. Maybe next Potions class – and maybe even next summer – wouldn't be so bad.

Yup, well please drop a review and let me know what you thought of it! :)