Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. I don't own any of this.

Harry POV

I can feel the walls closing in. We've been in this escape room for less than an hour and I'm practically hyperventilating. This is ridiculous. It's just a birthday party. Hermione's birthday party. I have nothing to fear. We're in the muggle world right now. It's not like a Death Eater is going to pop out of nowhere to take me to Voldemort. And if anything did happen, it's not like I'm alone. I'm surrounded by friends. Hermione invited Ron, Neville, Ginny, Luna, and me to her party, and all of us were happy to come celebrate. Not to mention, Draco is just a phone call away (Though that might not be much help, seeing as he practically refuses to use his cellphone).

Like I said, I'm anything but alone. So why do I feel so panicky? I keep getting flashes of three year-old me cowering in my little cupboard. I keep hearing my uncle's booming voice, "SHUT UP, BOY! STOP THAT WHIMPERING!" Stupid uncle Vernon.

It's these thoughts that keep me walking around the room, frantically pulling at books and tugging on sconces. The others are looking at me as if I've lost my mind. Oh, what they must be thinking of me!

I'm silently cursing Hermione and her thoroughness. She told us that we wouldn't be allowed to use our magic to get out of here, so our wands are all currently sitting with Molly in the front room. Molly and my magic feel miles away in this cramped room.

I'm running now, hysterically muttering clues to myself. I see Ginny speaking to Hermione, both of them glancing at me worriedly. I nearly trip over my feet when Luna stops right in front of me.

"Luna," I say, out of breath. "Did you need something?" I can hear the frantic pitch to my voice.

"Oh, no. I just thought you'd want to know. You missed a candle-holder. Just there," she says, pointing to a flickering candle just behind me to her left. "It could be helpful, don't you think?" she asks with a soft smile.

"Yes. Yes, I think it could," I say, trying to get my bearings back. I turn around, reaching for the candle. It tilts away from the wall easily. To my right, the wall slides slowly apart, revealing a narrow opening. I let out a breath of relief. Finally, we can move on from this tiny room. I walk briskly to the door, glancing inside. It's pitch dark from what I can see. Oh well. Anything is better than this room. Squeezing my way through the skinny opening, I'm almost thanking the Dursleys for ensuring that I stay small with their restrictions to my eating. However, the relief coursing through my body dissolves with an almost audible snap as I hear the wall slide quickly shut behind me.

Oh no … no no no no nooooo! The walls around me are tight, the room barely 3 feet squared. My already frantic breathing has picked up in speed. I can't seem to get enough air. I feel light headed. I can't see. I can't breathe. I'm spinning in circles around the tiny space. I can't breathe.

I stop spinning and brace myself against the wall in front of me, still panting. Oh, god, I'm stuck. Not again, not again, not again!

I start desperately pounding on the wall, screaming for the others to help me, reputation be damned. When I finally stop, completely out of breath and holding my throbbing fists, tears in my eyes, I can just barely make out Hermione's voice on the other side of the door.

"Harry, just calm down. We're working on getting you out now, okay? Molly still has our wands, but Ron and Ginny are trying to get Matt's attention." Matt is the owner of this place. He stays in the front room only about twenty feet away from the entrance door. "Just take a deep breath, ok? Everything is going to be fine, I promise. It's going to be alright."

I almost can't hear her over my erratic breathing but I pause just long enough to shout to her, "Ok, hermione. Hurry up please," with that, I go back to taming my rapid breathing. I close my eyes against the total darkness, imagining that I'm at a different party. A party after the war is over. A party where Sirius can be out in the open, not worrying that he'll be arrested or kissed by a dementor. A party where I can just be happy and not worry about being attacked or shoved into a room smaller than a cupboard.

This is the wrong thought apparently, as my mind immediately drifts to that same image from earlier, only this time it's paired with many other memories.

Memories of long days spent cleaning only to be sent into my cupboard without thanks or sufficient food for a growing boy.

Memories of my uncle taking his belt to my backside, all because of stupid coincidences that I simply couldn't explain. I could explain them now but that doesn't really help my seven year old self.

Memories of teachers, asking where I've been for weeks. Questioning about joyous vacations or time spent resting, when in reality it was spent doing laborious yard work on a thoroughly empty stomach.

Again, I force my mind onto a different path. I'm excited to go back to school. School starts next week for my sixth year. Hermione's true birthday isn't for a few weeks but she wanted to celebrate early so she could host her party in this muggle escape room. Oh boy, I hope I don't ruin her party. That would be right dreadful.

School. Think of school. I'm not only excited for Hogwarts itself but also seeing the people again. Of course, I'm seeing a lot of them today, but the one that I miss most of all is Draco.

Sweet Draco, who refuses to use the cell I gave him to speak with me. And I lost my owl privileges the first week back at the Dursleys, so that's not an option. Which means I haven't spoken with him in months. I greatly miss my boyfriend, and his stupid smirk and sarcastic remarks.

Glory, what would he be thinking if he could see me now? The Chosen One cowering in the corner of a small room, simply because he wasn't let out much as a kid? He'd have a field day if he were here. Actually, no. He wouldn't find any joy in this today. Sure, he would have jumped at the chance to make fun of me for this when we were younger, but we see each other differently now. He's not the same selfish, stuck up, brat I thought he was. I haven't thought that since he joined the Order last year. And I'm not the same spoiled Golden Boy he always assumed I was. He hasn't thought that since Cedric Diggory died.

Honestly if he were here he'd probably just tell me that I'm being ridiculous. I mean, it's true. I am. I know that I am. So why are tears still streaming down my face? And why am I still gasping for air, when there's plenty in this little space? It's not like it's airtight. I should be fine. But I'm not.

I've just begun to imagine Draco sitting next to me when I hear a knock on the wall behind me.

"Harry? Mate?" I hear Ron say.

"HAVE YOU FIGURED IT OUT? WHEN CAN I COME OUT OF HERE?" I screech, my mind freaking out at the reminder that I'm trapped in a little room.

"Um. Well about that, we couldn't find Mom. The guy said she left a while ago, saying she was going to check on her son's girlfriend. I figure she just wanted to make sure Fleur doesn't burn down our kitchen while she's away. But I doubt she'll be back for another like two hours. But, like I said, we found the worker guy!"

"What did he say? When can I get out?" I say growing even more frightful at the thought of no magic to help me out.

"Uh, well that's the thing, mate. He can't get you out. They never actually used this room for the game because when they installed it, it was sorta faulty…"

"'Faulty'? What do you mean 'faulty' Ron?" My voice has a hysterical squeak to it but I don't care at this point.

"Harry, there's supposed to be a like lever thing that lets you back out again but they forgot to include that part. They've never tried fixing it because the door will only stay open for about five seconds and then it closes again and there's no way to open it. Which means you're kinda stuck in there. But don't worry! Matt called the fire people and they're on their way! You'll be out of there in no time!" I don't bother correcting 'fire people' to 'firemen' or 'fire department'. We both know what he's trying to say. Besides, I have other things on my mind. Like, I don't know, THE FACT THAT I'M STUCK IN HERE AND I MIGHT NOT GET OUT FOR A LONG TIME!

My breath catches again and I slouch further into my little corner, covering my face with my hands. It's even harder to breathe now. My chest feels like it's caving in on itself. "Oh no, oh no, oh no. Please don't make me stay here, please, please, please. No, no, no, no, no, noooo!" I hear myself muttering words but it's all nonsense against the rushing in my ears and my heartbeat pounding painfully through my body. I wish Draco were here. Actually, I wish anyone were here with me. The loneliness is almost as bad as this stupid cramped feeling. But Draco especially. He would know what to do. He would calm me down, make me see reason and quit this childish behavior.

It seems as though getting control of both my shaking body and my spiraling thoughts at the same time is simply too much for me to handle. The second I gain an ounce of control over one, the other begins to act up again.

I settle for slowing my breathing. I think that dying of breathing too much is seriously the most idiotic way to go, not to mention the fact that I still have Voldemort taking every chance to get rid of me. I definitely don't want to make his job any easier.

So that leaves my thoughts to wander. I can't help but dread reliving the things of the past that will inevitably be brought up today, sitting lonely in this tiny room.