Break Me, Shake Me


Summary: What would have happened if Harry Potter had been broken by his relatives and other muggles around him? Would things still be the same if he came to Hogwarts with Social Anxiety Disorder? Take a look at this very different Harry and see how he copes with disability.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or related characters, ideas, places, or spells. They all belong to the marvelous J. K. Rowling I am just playing with what she created.

Warnings: This story will deal with the affects of neglect and abuse on a child. He will be dealing with a very serious disability that is more common than most people wish to believe. Because of this disability if there is any pairings at all it will be very late in the story, and will probably be slash. I won't be sugar coating this so be prepared.

A/N This was not a planned story. I did not intend to write it, but I have been having a very tough time lately dealing with my disorder and I needed an outlet. For those of you who follow my other stories there has been hints of this disorder throughout them, but this is the first time I have tackled it head on. I know how to write this and I can do it well because I have struggled with S.A.D. for years. I don't know how often this will be updated but it will be finished.

Chapter One
Tears of Pearls

Fear was clawing at him, his breathing wouldn't settle, his heart was beating wildly. It felt like he was drowning on thin air. Oxygen was not making it into his system and his eyes had black spots in front of them. He suddenly felt light headed and nearly hit the ground hard.

This Episode as he called them was not the first and wouldn't be the last. It was the last day of his primary school years. The other children were all laughing and playing. He had tried to join in despite their usual cold, almost hostile nature, but when he had gotten on a team at last and saw the three larger boys all heading in his direction at once, the football at his feet was forgotten and he was thrown into the Episode.

A ten year old boy should not know what a panic attack was, but this small boy with jet black hair and emerald eyes knew them intimately. This one was a bit more severe then normal but he had been having them on an ever increasing frequency as he got older. It was not uncommon for this boy, Harry Potter, to have two or three 'mini Episodes' a day.

The boys had by now all encroached on him. They were bigger then him and crowded him in. He felt trapped amidst their bulk. He was frozen in place by his fear and the only outward indication of the attack was the deer in the headlights look he had in his eyes. The boys caught up in the game missed the look in his eyes and plowed into his unmoving form knocking him to his knees and he didn't have the control to get back up right away.

He felt a hand grab his arm and began to panic and thrash. He struggled to get away from what he thought was an attacker. He pulled so hard against the hand he was sure he would have some bruises as reminders.

"Potter! Potter! Get a grip we are not going to hurt you. You need to see the nurse." Harry barely registered the voice, he only caught the fact it was female and kind of familiar suggesting she was in his class.

He stopped pulling on the arm but by now the other kids had come to see the spectacle and again he felt trapped in by their closeness. Forcing his voice to work he stuttered out, "I'mmm okkayy, I cccan gett ttthere myssself."

Struggling to his feet he carefully picked his way through the crowd, touching no one and avoiding the more congested points. Behind his back he heard several comments about, "Freak," and "Crybaby." He didn't show his hurt at the names, but he did wish he wasn't so different.

He didn't go to the nurse, he knew there was next to nothing she could do now that the Episode was over. The rest was up to him, to steady his breathing and get the fear back under control. He went to his usual haunt. The school library had two bookshelves relatively close to each other full of reference books. He could sit between those two shelves and be made nearly invisible to anyone else that came into the library. He just sat there cross legged staying out of the way of everyone else. He would occasionally pick up one of the books on the shelves and start to read. He had managed to read quite a few of them during his long stays in the library.

The librarian noticed the dark haired little boy enter her domain on a daily bases, but did nothing but watch him. She had seen his kind before and knew the best thing she could do was stay in the background, making sure he was ok, but generally not interfering. Children like him just needed that safe place to go, and she thought her library was one of the better safe places, especially when the students actually picked up the books.

She knew this was her last day watching over him. It saddened her a little to come into work and not see him sitting there, quietly reading, or just staring at a spot on the floor lost in thought. She wanted to do something, or say something to help him along, but she had no idea what to say to him.

Harry while not being completely oblivious to her observations, he was unaware of just how deep her turmoil was. He had never had anyone that cared before, why would anyone start now?

His life at the Dursley's was a living nightmare. He was hurt and dehumanized at every turn,. There was no escaping it. His only names to them were 'boy' or 'freak' and he dealt with those names at school too. People had hurt him so much, and his classmates had ignored him for so long, the nager he once held had turned to fear. He hated it when too many people got close. It didn't matter how many there were, or even if he knew them and liked them. If they crowded too close, or heaven forbid touched him, he had an 'Episode.' He remembered the first one he had, it was about three years ago and he had been getting ready to go home for Christmas break when a group of older kids shoved him out of their way in their hurry to reach home. The amount of kids and the violent touch sent him over the edge.

He thought he was dieing at the time. When he survived and went home to yelling and screaming for being late, and locked into his cupboard without food, he knew whatever happened wasn't deadly. He had hoped that was a one time deal. Unfortunately he couldn't be that lucky, they had come back and had gotten stronger and fiercer. He could now tell the difference between one of his true panic attacks and the mini Episodes that while annoying didn't really affect him enough for them to be outwardly noticeable.

He hoped with time, and the fact he would not be in school with his grossly fat cousin, he might be able to get better in the future. As time wore on though and things continued to worsen instead of improve his childish mind began to believe he would never heal, never get better.

He felt hopeless, absolutely and completely hopeless, and he hated it.

A/N well there you have it. I will get more in depth into the why and how of the disorder as I go on. Remember I am telling this from the mind of a ten year old there are things about the disorder even he doesn't understand yet. My readers will find out more about it as he does, and no he doesn't know exactly what it is yet. He calls them Episodes because he doesn't know they are panic attacks.

Oh and because I know I am going to get reviews on his stuttering. The reason it doesn't follow a natural stutter pattern is because it is not a natural stutter, he is just frightened. When I have a panic attack I can't really pronounce t's and s's very well or any word with a double letter. I have a friend who was born with a stutter and it works differently.