Legal Disclaimer: I own my stuff, but not the original source material. That belongs to whoever. Also, the opinions and interpretations I use here may not reflect the same in said whoever that owns the source material. Look, I'm just a poor college librarian. Suing me isn't going to get you anything but tears.

Warning: This work may be offensive to some readers. There's also an onscreen panic attack. Feel free to back out if need be.

Author's Note: So, I'm just gonna acknowledge that hiding things from your therapist is not a good thing and Harry is a bit of a dumbass (tho' he's got good reasons) to do it.

Submitting Info:
Stacked with: Hogwarts (Term 13); MC4A
Individual Challenges: Cry Power; Gryffindor MC; Slytherin MC; Rian-Russo Inversion (x2); Ethnic & Present (x2); Hold the Mayo; Setting Sail; Zed Era; Old Shoes (Y); Bucket Listing (Y); In A Flash; Two Cakes (Y); Eating Cake (Y)
House: Slytherin
Assignment No.: Term 13 – Assignment 03
Subject (Task No.): n/a
Other Hogwarts Challenges: Insane Prompt Challenge [28](Charming); 365 [309](Tension); Herbology Club [2-1]("Can you just hold my hand?"); Auction [26-2](Stuck in a Lift/Elevator); Tell a Joke Day [10](Performing on a Stage)
Other MC4A Challenges: Hunt [Su Items](Bed); Chim [Deke](n/a); Ship (Heroic Shadow)[n/a](n/a); Fire [Med](The Good Ship); Garden [Plant Types](Best Friends)
Representation(s): Harry Potter/Blaise Zabini; Harry Potter has Anxiety
Primary & Secondary Bonus Challenges: Lyre Liar; Abandoned Ship; Second Verse (Found Family; Nontraditional; Sneeze Weasel; Spinning Plates; Unwanted Advice; Lovely Coconuts); Chorus (Wabi Sabi; Machismo; Peddling Pots; Tomorrow's Shade; A Long Dog; Larger than Life; Unicorn); Demo 1 (Under the Bridge); Demo 2 (Sitting Hummingbird)
Tertiary & Generic Bonus Challenges: T3 (Terse; Thimble); SN (Rail; Negate); FR (Satisfaction; Evolution); O3 (Oath)
Word Count: 962

(^^)
Lifts
(^^)

Harry Potter was not having a very good day.

In fact, he was having a downright horrible, no good, very bad day.

It had started off relatively nice, too. He had managed to actually sleep about five hours the night before and to do so without any nightmares at all. Therefore, he had woken up feeling more rested than normal. He didn't even have that gross taste in his mouth that his anxiety medication tended to leave if he goes too long without drinking anything.

Then Hermione had called. Apparently, the keynote speaker for the seminar about creature & Being rights that she had been working on for the last six months had canceled. The seminar was set to begin in less than two hours, which wasn't enough time to find a replacement. Who did she want to cover the empty slot despite having no time to prep a speech or get into the right mindset to perform like a dancing monkey?

That was right.

Her very dear friend Harry, of course!

And what was he going to do? Tell her that he would not help improve the lives of vulnerable groups who have suffered literal decades of prejudiced policy making? He couldn't do that, not even if the thought of doing it kept his heart racing just a bit all through his morning routine and performing the speech.

The Q&A session afterwards was on par with receiving a round of the Cruciatus Curse from Voldemort himself. Harry was certain that everyone had to know that he had felt like he was going to throw up at least three times during it. Not that anyone seemed to be affected. Maybe they didn't notice and it was all in his head.

Ever since the war had ended, Harry had felt like such a wreck. His therapist called it delayed crisis response, but Harry liked to call it compartmentalization with a now exploded compartment. His therapist had given him a thoughtful frown before agreeing with the analogy. Twice a week, they met up so that she could give Harry repacking strategies. Harry privately called them ways to stop being a loony nutter. Dara tended to ask rather probing questions whenever she got a hint or two about the way he thought about himself. Even after a year working with her, Harry wasn't ready to start talking about the Dursleys or the war.

Regardless, Harry was already shaking a bit when he entered the lift to leave the Ministry lecture hall after his part of the seminar was finished. He leaned against the back wall, grateful to have a few minutes alone to collect himself before needing to face the crowded entrance hall downstairs. A dark brown hand shot through the lift doors just as they were closing. Automatically, they reversed direction to allow a man to enter the elevator with him.

It was Blaise Zabini. The other wizard had begun making a bit of a name for himself after the war, at least in activist circles. Harry wasn't surprised to see him at Hermione's seminar. Zabini had been one of the leading voices in the Wizengamot for overturning policies that had been passed which were restrictive to the verge of genocide and tweaking the wording of other policies to prevent loopholes that had been abused both before and during the war. His approach was more subtle than Hermione's, but there were times when it got more actually accomplished while some people dug in their heels on principle with Hermione's attitude on things. People tended to find him charming where Hermione was more often seen as demanding. Not that there wasn't people who responded better to Hermione's no-nonsense approach.

Harry took a deep breath as the lift began to rise. He hated elevators in general. They were too similar to his cupboard for him to be relaxed in one. Not that it mattered, because they were the only way to get around the Ministry building. Already on edge as he was, it was hard to keep his breath even. If he had been alone in the compartment, he would have let himself freak out for a few moments, just to take the edge off.

But he wasn't alone.

Because fate clearly had it in for him today.

Then the lift made a loud screech as it jerked to a halt hard enough to knock Harry sideways. The tell-tale sensation of moving was suddenly gone. At once the walls of the lift seemed a lot closer than they had just a moment before, and the air must have been set on fire to be as hot as it suddenly was. Harry couldn't seem to get air down his throat to his lungs, no matter how much he gasped.

"Potter, you need to breathe," Zabini was saying. Harry could hardly hear him over the sound rushing through his ears. He felt someone helping him slid to the floor of the compartment. "Potter, come on. Granger would have my head if you passed out on me. What do you need from me?"

"Can you," Harry managed before he needed to stop and work his mouth to build up saliva. "Can you just hold my hand?"

Instantly, Blaise wrapped one of his hands around one of Harry's. The tension around his ribs eased just enough that he felt like he could breathe again. Harry slumped slightly, his head thumping against Blaise's shoulder. The other man grunted at the impact but didn't say anything as he started running his free hand through Harry's curls.

"There you go," Blaise murmured. "Just focus on breathing. They'll get the lift going again eventually and we'll be fine. All you need to do right now is breathe."

Harry's day was starting to look up.