Claustrophobia- Harry stumbles upon an out of the way room in the dungeons and gets locked in. (A lock appears, a talking one that laughs when he tries to spell it open.) He starts going mad and after a few weeks of being alone in there, (food magically appears), he starts talking to himself. A mirror appears in Snape's quarters that shows Harry and he decides to let the boy sweat a little since he's safe, and Voldemort can't find him if no one else can. But as he observes the boy and listens to him pour out his heart he can't help but find out Harry Potter isn't who he thought he was. And Snape finds himself falling in love with the boy, despite all the attempts not to. (Make it Snarry or Severitus or Sevitus. Whatever. Could make a good oneshot or a good prequel to another story. Harry could go mad for real or just a bit stir crazy. Snape falling in love with him could be platonic or not.)

-Okay so 'Fitful' so I took your AU plot and decided to go with it. Hopefully you like it. If not well maybe someone else will write one you will like.

Warning: references to child abuse, insanity, mild references to child rape

"This is magical objects speech"

This is spells

Prologue: The Forced Insanity

Harry Pov

The hallways began to blur together. I really shouldn't have gone exploring without the Marauders Map. I've been turned around for hours. At least it's still night time or I'd have a lot of questions to answer from Ron and Hermione. Now as long as I get back to the commons' room before breakfast. But to do that I have to know where I am. And at the moment I have no idea.

The doors are all starting to look old and worn. Obviously this is an unused section of Hogwarts. The problem is my lack of direction. I've taken so many turns in the maze down here that I'm sure I'll never find my way out. As I round yet another dark dank corner I spot a door that isn't worn or old. It actual seems to be brand new. How is that possible? My idiotic curiosity got the better of me again as I reached for the pristine silver handle. The door gives way beneath my touch. Swinging open with no urgings from myself. Cautionless I step into the revealed room. Four torches as my feet cross the threshold. I shiver as I look around the Spartan decorated room. A small cot resides in one corner. The opposite corner houses a small plain desk and chair. The floor has no carpeting, only granite stone flooring. Bored with the room I turn to leave. My eyes widen as I take note of the now closed door. I don't remember closing it…or hearing it close.

I hasten over to the slab of wood. Grasping the handle I yank. And yank. And yank. Its freaking locked! Tugging my wand free of the pocket housing the small piece of wood I quickly caste Alohomora.

"Haha, boy I won't be unlocking anytime soon. So get comfortable. Those fancy words won't work on me."

I jerk back startled. What, who was that? "Who…who's there? This isn't funny. Let me out!" My voice rose with every spoken word.

"I'm right here idiot boy. I'm the door handle. I was spelled to keep in whoever walks in here until the person the mirror appears to come and retrieves them. So you're stuck here till whoever has your mirror arrives." The voice, or the door handle if I'm inclined to believe this voice, cackled.

I glowered down at the stupid thing. "I demand you let me out. This isn't funny. I can't stay here forever! And what do you mean about this person and a mirror. Hey answer me!"

"Sorry kid. I've told you all I can. Hopefully you get out before you go crazy. Bye-bye now."

I tried to get the handle to speak again. I even shot spell after spell at the thing. But it never said another word. That was seven days ago. I've kept caught by casting Tempus. Meals appear on the desk three times a day. Beside that I have nothing to do. The walls feel like they are slowly closing in on me. Whenever I wake up I'm positive my bed is closer to my desk. My clothes reek. I have nothing else to wear and I haven't learned the proper cleaning and freshening spells needed to clean them. A chamber pot appeared in the corner next to the door a few hours after my magically imposed solitude began. I may go crazy before I am ever found. The door handle's parting words are haunting me.

Snape Pov

Calmly, meticulously I made my way from the potions classroom to my chambers. Today has been far too long. I cannot even intimidate these imbecilic students into paying any ounce of attention. They are all too busy gossiping and worrying over that irrational idiot of a Gryffindor. All of the teachers have been taking shifts searching this forsakenly large castle. Dumbledore's spells and wards have informed him that the idiot Potter is still within the castle. The brat went and got himself lost. He has been missing for seven days now. By some small mercy I am not on shift to search for that attention seeking dunderhead.

Arriving at the portrait to my quarters I quietly murmur my password to the painting of Salazar. I say it just loud enough for him to hear. He nods curtly, the frame swinging forward, opening into my abode. I quickly step in and stride confidently into my study. I need a drink. A large and strong one.

Entering the study I pour some firewhiskey and sit in my overly stuffed black leather straight back chair. I lose myself in my thoughts for a time. What brings me back is a small voice speaking, seemingly to themselves.

"At least living here is better than my 'home'. If I'm never found then at least the old fool can't send me back. I'm starting to like it here. No expectations. No disappointments…well other than being stuck here. And no pressure. I can be myself…but isn't it pathetic that I'm not sure who I am anymore? I mean I've pretended for so long, changed for so many people to keep them happy that I don't think I truly exist. I am just a shell. Filled with whatever personality, whatever 'Harry' that the people around me are expecting. Here maybe just maybe I can find me. But what if there is no me to find?"

I stare is shock at the small black-haired boy reflected in a large me across from me, above my fireplace. Where did that mirror come from? Where is Potter and how is he in this mirror? How can I hear him? Can he see me? And better yet, what is this idiot rambling on about? As I continue to stare he lays silently there, on the floor of wherever he is. It's obviously cold. I wonder why he hasn't relocated to the cot I can see behind him. He seems to be staring unseeingly up at the ceiling. His eyes are glazed over and his face emotionless. Not like a dunderhead like him knows how or what emotions are. But still, the expressionless face is quite disconcerting.

Suddenly a light flashes to the side of him. The boy lurches up, startled from his catatonic state. He slowly moves over to the left of the mirror. The image changes showing him lowering himself into a small chair. The flash that I had seen seems to have been the arrival of a plate of food. I watch as the boy quickly devours the food. Once it's all gone, the dishes disappear in another flash and the ebony child stands, only to walk over and fling himself face down on the small bed. The mirror goes blank. I stare down into my snifter. Quickly I knock back the whiskey. I grimace as it burns my insides pleasantly.

Well it seems I now know where that idiot is. And he's safe. If the mirror appeared to me, then no one else knows where the brat is. Including the Dark Lord. He's safe. I'll leave him there. At least then I have one less dunderheaded Gryffindork to try to teach. I'll just put up with the search shifts and keep his location to myself. It's been quite a long time since the Room of Forced Solitude was in use. As the Mirror of Remitti Effugium appeared to me I am the only one that will be able to arrive at and retrieve the boy.

Quite pleased with this new twist I leave the study and the mirror behind. Going to my bedchambers intent on retiring for the evening.

Harry Pov

I've begun to converse with myself. At first it was merely random comments. Now I'm reminiscing. Remembering my childhood. It feels as if I am viewing the memories of another while I stand on the sidelines. My life was never truly my own. It was claimed by Voldemort before it even had a chance to even begin. Maybe I haven't existed since that night so long ago. I'm an empty shell that can only be filled by momentary sound. Much like this room, my prison. All that can fill this suffocating space is my sounds. So I talk. And talk. And talk. But even with my talk, the silence, the space within these four walls is deafening.

I spent yesterday just screaming. I felt the need to do so. I woke up yesterday from a dream, a memory, from my fifth birthday. Uncle Vernon made sure I'll never forget that day. I can still feel his hands drifting across my body. Dirtying me without remorse. Even though I had been so young, so untouched by the world I knew, I KNEW that what he was doing to me was beyond wrong. But a small malnourished child never stands a chance against anyone bigger, no matter how big their resolve to fight is. I learned that lesson very early on.

I'm lying on the floor again. The cold stone is burning my flesh through my soiled, nasty clothing. It's not really physically comfortable to lie here. But at least I know I'm not gone completely, I can still feel. As long as I can lie on this ground and feel the burn of the cold unforgiving rock I know I haven't lost myself entirely to insanity. I wonder how long I will last until I'm at my limit. When I get to that point I doubt I'll let myself live any longer. I already live a half-life, a shell of the human I should have been allowed to become.

It's been fourteen days nineteen hours and forty-six minutes since the handle last spoke to me. Since I last heard something beyond the noises I myself create. I'm beginning to believe I made the sounds for the handle as well. Maybe I was insane already and it just took being locked within this cell for the real insanity to escape the prison it was held within inside my head.

Snape Pov

I've been watching Potter at least once a day since the mirror appeared to me. That was nineteen days ago. The first two he spoke only of random things. As if he was spouting off whatever popped into his head. He probably was, if only to fill the silence, the void surrounding him. On the seventh day, fourteen days after he went missing, Potter startled me. It was a Sunday. I had no classes and I had finished my grading. So I planned to spend the day in front of the mirror observing the dear Golden Boy.

That day when he finally appeared in the mirror he was crying. His arms were wrapped tightly around himself. He let out a sob which turned into a mantra of sorts: "I am not a freak. I am not a freak. I am not a freak…" He went on in this matter for a few hours. He went on long enough to make himself hoarse and to make me close to fear for his sanity. He never spoke again that day. Seeming to have reveled in the intense silence. So I did as well.

The next day he once again appeared on the floor sprawled out eagle style. His conversation was a startling revelation. "I've resigned myself to die. If not here it will be at Voldemort's hand. But of course if I'm sent 'home' again Uncle Vernon may take care of it for him. Ironic that a muggle could help the Dark Lord in anyway. But then again I am amazing at the impossible. If I survive another summer in Surrey I may just appear before Voldemort and allow my death. I'd welcome it at that point. Hell, I'd welcome it now. Anything to stop this pain, this agony, this emptiness. Words can only fill a void I've always had for so long. This prison has just brought that to the forefront. I gladly accept my freakishness. I'm not complete. I never will be. And I daresay I never was, or at least I wasn't after my stint with the death curse. Most people say this stupid lightning scar marks me for life, but I know better. This scar, this abomination adorning my skin marks me for death. It has marked me for death from the moment it carved itself into my skin. And I accept. I no longer wish to fight."

The following days continued along this path. I learned things that happened to this poor child that I'd never wish on my worst enemy. As the days flew by and he steadily fled to a sanctuary within his mind, I watched as insanity swallowed him whole. My dreams began to be filled with a mop of ebony hair and startling emeralds for eyes. I would entrap the young boy within my arms. Holding him close. Whispering sweet nothings and calming all his fears. Protecting him from the world around, but also from himself. He began to cut himself on day fifteen. Fifteen that day, and one each day after. A count down on his arm until he can no longer feel, no longer accept this reality as his own. I know I should go to him now. But before that I have to make sure he is safe.

Gathering my robes I go to visit my Lord. It's time I proved my loyalty and fight to protect what is truly important to me.

To Be Continued!

*Thanks for reading! I am stuck at a standstill with my other pieces. So I'll just work on this one for now…well not exactly this one. This is a one-shot prequel to a larger piece. I am working on getting a few chapters of that done before I upload it so it may take a while. Watch for it though- it will be called 'The Forgiven Insanity' –it will have platonic Snarry (father/son) and slash of Harry with someone…probably Voldie but I'll take a poll.

New note. It actually won't be harry/voldie. I have a poll up. And I have uploaded the first chapter of the sequel. Until I get at least 50 votes on the poll I won't be uploading anymore. So vote if you want to read more!

Anyway until next time! -CreatureSlashLover