Harry Potter and the secret Past

You're safe child

Severus had to swallow a lump in his throat at the sight that met him. This poor child. He took in the child's appearance, the pasty white skin and fine trembling and the tear tracks trailing slowly down his face.
Slowly, not wanting to startle the boy, he knelt down in the doorway of the cupboard keeping his distance.
"Potter?"
No response. Severus sighed, the boy didn't even seem to know he was here. He must be in the midst of some sort of panic attack or flashback.
"Potter? Potter come on now, your alright. Come out of here"
The boy made no acknowledgement, only moving to curl into himself.
Severus sighed again, growing impatient. He was not cut out to deal with this. He knew his next move could either make or break Potter. Why did the blasted child have to be so fragile!
He took a moment to take in his surroundings. He was indeed in a small dark cupboard, complete with cob webs and all. The old dusty shelves were stocked with cleaning supplies, and oddly enough a slim wooden cane was propped up in the corner.
The cramped space stunk of damp, and Severus couldn't help but wonder what would have made the boy want to find this space. This was no empty generic cupboard. The room of requirement had specifically made this to fit Harry's desires. But why on earth would the boy want to sit here?
It was obvious to the potions professor that the child had fled the hospital wing in panic and had stumbled across this room in search of a safe hideout, somewhere he could feel secure. Not too unlike his own discovery of this room. But what child would conjure a dark, dank cupboard such as this as a safe place?
Severus felt his expression darken as he thought back on all he had learnt about this particular child. No doubt Potter hadn't had a feeling of security since he was a one year old. In his relatives home the child most probably didn't have a moment of peace, had never experienced comfort. It was no wonder the child sought out  small secluded places. The cupboard was probably a place to hide for the little abused boy.
Then he turned back to the rocking boy and for the first time noticed what he was sitting on. An old shabby ground mat with a torn soiled blanket. That was concerning.
Moving further over, he ignored the boys violent flinch, and looked around him. There on the lower half of the wall were several child's drawings. All ripped and crumpled but hung up with deliberate care.
Severus lent back on his heals. True horror gripping at his heart. The makeshift bed, the child's drawings, Harry seeking the place out in his panic. This looked like Harry was here a lot. He instinctively looked back at the door and saw the locks. Locks designed to keep Potter in. Severus felt sick, mentally praying he was wrong.
Reigning in his emotions, the professor reached over to Harry and carefully placed his hand on the boys small bony shoulder.
The reaction was instant. Harry jumped back sharply, shrieking in fear before backing up in to the corner and stuffing his hand in is mouth to stifle his fear. He was shaking so violently now that the shelf he was backed into was rattling dangerously.
Severus was horrified, his heart beating painfully.
"Potter- Harry is okay!" He tried in vain but the boy was now shaking his head, his eyes brimmed with tears.
"Come child, your safe" he stated softly. His voice unrecognisable to his own ears. Severus knew this was impossible. He wasn't getting through to the distraught boy. Sending a silent apology to lily, He moved forward and gripped both of the boys shoulders.
Harry screamed. He thrashed and fought the offending hands in true terror, but the professor held on tightly, whispering soft words of comfort that fell on death ears.
Eventually Harry stopped fighting, instead going stock still. Instead of screams and cries, soft whimpers were heard, breaking Severus' heart further.
"Your safe, Harry no one is hurting you"
The whimpers didn't cease. Then Harry mumbled something, Severus straining to hear.

"I'm s-sorry. Pl-please uncle"
Severus snapped.
"I am not your uncle child, your uncle is not here" he said sharply, trying to get through to the boy.
He cautiously loosened his grip on the bony shoulders and reached down to cup the boys tiny hands in his own, potion stained palms.
Tears now ran freely down the small white cheeks and the boys breathing was frantic and unsteady.