Just a little one-shot I thought of when I was reading some of my old stories. Don't ask.

I might make this a two-shot if enough people like it.

NOTHING YOU RECOGNIZE BELONGS TO ME!

Green eyes widened as the sound of shattering glass echoed through the hall. He took a few steps back, forgetting that he was at Hogwarts, forgetting that he was with friends. In that moment, he was a little boy and he'd just dropped something, and one lesson had literally been beaten into him by his uncle.

You don't drop something.

''I'm sorry,'' he muttered before the glass had even finished breaking. His body froze as it fought against the instinctual need to flee with the knowledge that running away just made the pain so much more.

His instincts won out as he ran as far as he could, his legs burning with the speed he used to get away. He didn't even recognize the otherwise familiar halls of the castle as he dove into a broom closet and curled into himself.

The pounding of feet on the floor outside the closet sounded as his uncle's enraged footsteps to him, the voices shouting at him to come out reaching his ears as threats and curses.

He didn't even notice that his magic held the door strong against unlocking charms and vanishing hexes. Tears ran over his face as his green eyes glazed over with the memories of the past few times he'd dropped something, anything, of the Dursleys.

''No,'' he whimpered pathetically as ghost fists beat into his five-year-old body, or when he could feel a frying pan slamming into the side of his head. His ears were filled with the sounds of glass breaking, or iron hitting the floor.

''Confringo!'' a voice growled on the other sound of the door, and his magic gave up and curled protectively around his body as it had been doing for ten years, protecting his head from permanent harm while his arms protected his vulnerable stomach.

The soothing hand that rested on his shoulder made him shake in fear. He vaguely heard the man order the others away and a soft sob escaped his throat. He froze when he was left alone with the man.

The man crouched beside him and muttered soothing words that never even reached his mind as he continued to shake, expecting to be hit.

''Harry,'' he heard somewhere far away, and his mind registered that this couldn't be his uncle. Not because he realized that he was at Hogwarts, or because he realized that the person had just used a curse to open the door, but because his uncle never called him by his first name.

The shaking gradually stopped as he finally realized where he was. He looked up and saw professor Snape staring down at him with an unreadable expression.

''I'm sorry,'' he muttered, still a reflex from his days at the Dursleys. He had made him do all this. He watched as Snape's eyes twitched angrily and curled a little into himself, so that not even he could notice it, but just enough to protect him even more. Basic instincts had taught him how to survive.

''No,'' Snape answered, standing up and offering his hand to help the boy stand. He hesitantly took it, standing a little shakily. ''I'm sorry that you went through that.''

Because even though no words were exchanged, Harry had acted like a frightened and cornered animal, and that was normal behaviour for abused children, because once they give up all they know and concentrate on not angering the person that abuses them, people refer to animal-like behaviour, focussing solely on what their senses tell them.

Snape's eyes were burning with anger as he looked at the small first year standing next to him, his emerald eyes still wide and scared. For once, he didn't see a carbon copy of James Potter, and he didn't even see Lily's bright eyes.

All he saw was a scared little boy that had run away because he had dropped a glass.