Co-written with stormypup


Disclaimer: A large part of the first chapter is taken straight from chapter 25 of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, and belongs to J.K. Rowling, as does a good portion of chapter two. These have been modified by the authors to fit with the challenge. Chapter three onward was written solely by the authors using JKR's characters.

A/N: This was written for the Written for Wave XII of the Harry/Snape fqf fest. This fanfiction is a complete work (25 chapters in all) and shall be updated every Weekend between Friday and Sunday. I'd have to throw much love and many sugary sweets at my beta-reader, NSW, who put up with our horrible all-nighter grammar skills.

Chapter Eight

Harry waited until he was positive Snape was asleep, before moving. He crept towards the door and peered out into the hall. He saw a monk walking sedately down the hall, and he went out, quietly shutting the door behind him.

"Excuse me?" Harry said, hailing the brown haired man with a whisper.

The tall man stopped and stared at him as if surprised. "Good morning," he greeted.

Harry smiled. "Good morning."

"You have question?" he asked in halting English.

"Yes sir," Harry said, gesturing for them to continue moving in the direction the monk had previously been walking in. "Sorry, I just didn't want to wake Professor Snape up," he said in way of explanation once they were out of ear shot of their room.

Though it could have only been a couple of hours, Snape forced himself to wake. He felt as though he had sand in his eyes and his head was pounding, but time was running short. He opened his eyes and threw his feet over the side of the bed. The blanket was still on the floor, but Potter was not there. He looked around and his eyes landed on Potter, who was sitting on the floor by the door, a smug smile on his face

"What are you grinning at?" Snape asked irritably, unconsciously running a hand through his stringy hair.

"You know, with the way you treated me yesterday, I shouldn't tell you," Harry quipped, bringing a knee up and resting his elbow against it. He propped his head up on his hand and smirked.

Snape blinked. The boy looked positively indecent sitting there like that. He looked...Snape gave himself a mental shake and glared. "What are you on about, Potter?" he snapped.

Harry resisted the urge to use the childish taunt of 'I know something you don't know and I'll never tell'. Instead he leaned back against the door, smirk firmly in place. "I had a small chat with one of the monks here. Friendly chap by the name of Marcus."

"I'm in no mood for games, Potter," Snape said. "Get to the point, I have work to do in case you've forgotten."

"Well, it seems he pities me or something, because he told me where to go."

"I've told you where to go many times, yet you're still here," Snape said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I take it there is a point to this tale?" he asked, getting to his feet.

"I know where Hufflepuff's cup is," Harry said effectively freezing Snape in place.

"You're lying," Snape said, watching Harry carefully. ""You honestly expect me to believe you accomplished that in the short time I was asleep?"

"I may not be Hermione, but I do know how to get information an easier way. I asked."

"Unbelievable," Snape said, shaking his head. The little bastard got information that Snape had been trying to obtain for months in a matter of hours. "Is it here?" he asked, the adrenaline beginning to course through his veins.

The smirk faded. "No, it never was either."

Snape shot across the room, grabbing Harry by the shirt and pulling him to his feet. "This is not a game, Potter! Where is it?" he growled.

Harry grabbed at the hand that was fisting his shirt, attempting to pry the lanky fingers off of it. "It's in Sevlievo," Harry gasped, wide eyed and slightly hurt.

Snape released Harry's shirt, and stepped back. "Sevlievo?" Snape asked, frowning. That hadn't been on his list of possibilities. "Did he tell you where, exactly?" Snape asked, eyes intense.

"In a monastery just outside of the town," Harry grumbled, shying away from the man.

"Get your things, we're going," Snape said. He grabbed his potion pouch from the bedside table and pulled out a vial with a blue potion inside. He pulled out the stopper and drank it quickly, ignoring Harry's curious look.

"Damn it, I need a ruddy map," he growled, tossing the empty vial into the waste bin.

Harry stared at Snape for a long moment, not even wanting to hazard a guess at the potion he had just guzzled down. Instead he pulled a yellowed piece of paper from his pocket and soundlessly thrust it at the greasy-haired man.

Snape looked at the paper in his hands, and found it was directions to the city. He looked back up at Potter, feeling a tad disoriented. He was forced to admit the boy had managed to save them quite a bit of time.

"Well done," he muttered reluctantly, scowling. "Well, what are you waiting for! Get your things!" he ordered, leaving the room and storming down the hall.

Harry blinked, a small grin formed on his lips as he picked up his rucksack and slung it over his shoulder, before following in Snape's wake. Marcus was waiting at the exit with his knowing and infinitely patient smile as Snape grit out a formal and stilted thank you. Harry rolled his eyes and shook the man's hand thanking him profusely for the information and the accommodations.

"Take care, child. You can return anytime, you know that?"

"I do, thank you," Harry murmured, offering him a genuine smile before harrying off after Snape.

They grabbed a quick breakfast at a small diner in town, and inquired about public transportation to get them to Sevlievo. A few hours later found them in the southern most end of town.

"We'll walk the rest of the way," Snape said, starting off.

"It's a big town, can't we hire a cab or something?" Harry asked, hurrying to catch up with Snape.

"We have limited resources Potter, we cannot -" Snape broke off with a hiss, clutching at his arm. "I'm being summoned," he ground out. "Does anyone know you're here, anyone at all?"

Harry shook his head wildly, watching Snape with panicked eyes. "N-no, sir."

"Go into town, somewhere public. Blend in. If I'm not back by tomorrow, go to the Weasleys and find Moody," Snape said hurriedly, "he'll protect you. Don't do anything stupid," he warned. "Do not try and destroy the Horcrux on your own. We don't know what kind of protections are around it." Snape clenched his teeth as the pain in his arm intensified. "I must go," he said. "First sign of trouble, get out," he said, and without another word, he was gone.

Harry stared at the space before him for a long moment. His scar was prickling and he brought a hand up to his head ruefully. If it wasn't for the sake of their mission, Harry would have popped back to the Weasley's before the vision hit. He hated the fact that he could think about his visions in such a mundane way.

Hitching his rucksack up on his shoulder, Harry began walking toward the city center. His nerves were on edge and he kept looking around, expecting someone to Apparate in front of him with a wand pointed at his head. He moved his own wand in his waistband so that it was outside of his shirt instead of under it. His hand kept fidgeting with it until he finally just pulled it out and left it in his hand. It's not like anyone was paying attention to him anyway, and it was better safe than sorry.

The main part of the city was filled with tourists. Harry knew it would be easy to just lose himself in the crowd and observe his surroundings but instinctively he knew it was a bad idea. And no sooner than that thought crossed his mind, pain blossomed from his scar. He hissed in pain, clutching his forehead as he staggered into the building beside him.

Voldemort was obviously in a foul mood, Harry wished, not for the first time, that he could just be a normal boy, and not be linked in any way to a psychotic bastard bent on his destruction. He closed his eyes against the pain, before remembering he had to keep alert to his surroundings.

Pushing away from the building, Harry looked around, squinting against the unbearably bright sunlight. Forcing himself to ignore the pain, Harry set off across the street, hoping to find somewhere he could sit.

He found a bench and fell down heavily on it. Breathing heavily through his nose, he searched the area, trying to focus on something other than the pain-- a person, a flower, a building anything. He bit his fist trying to stem his cries as another slice of orange agony pummeled his head.

People passed by him not noticing him, as wave upon wave of pain hit him, leaving him weak with the effort to look normal.

In what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, the pain began to ebb and he slumped backwards on the bench. Harry took deep, calming breaths, wishing he had a potion to help numb his head a bit,

"Fuck," he swore softly, closing his eyes. He thought back on the emotion behind the pain, and realized, much to his horror, that it was disappointment and anger. "Doesn't mean Snape's in trouble," he said shakily, trying to comfort himself with the knowledge.

What if Snape didn't come back until tomorrow? Harry had to find some place to stay, just in case. He couldn't sleep on the street after all. He forced his mind away from his concerns for Snape and tried to focus on getting through the day.

What if Snape comes back? How's he supposed to find me if I'm holed up in some hotel room? Maybe I should go the Monastery, Harry thought, feeling ill.

"What do I do?" he murmured, panic starting to return.

"You could start by making it less apparent that you are having an emotional breakdown," a snide voice cut into his thoughts. Harry jerked his head up in surprise, his mouth dropped open and he just stared.

"You look like a fish," Snape said, scowling.

Merlin, he hurt. The Dark Lord wasn't happy and he made sure Snape knew this fact in no uncertain terms. He blamed Snape for Draco's disappearance, claiming that Snape should have had better control over the boy.

Voldemort had also been angry that he had lost sight of Potter. The Dark Lord had expected the boy to leave the protection of his family, but according to his sources, Potter had disappeared off the face of the earth. Snape was beginning to fear, not for the first time, that there was a mole within the Order.

He idly rubbed at his aching ribs. "Did you have any problems?" he asked, scanning the area.

"N-no," Harry said wide eyed and shaking his head. He opened his mouth and then thought better of it and closed it again. Out in the public was not a good place to ask what had happened. Once he would have wished Snape would endure torture, but he didn't anymore, and if the way Snape was rubbing his ribs was any indication he was in quite a bit of pain. None of it reflected on his face, but Snape's masks were tough and had been hardened over the years he was sure.

They would need a place to stay that was nearby, walking to the monastery was out of the question for that day, even if Snape insisted upon it. Harry didn't want to risk Snape injuring himself further just out of sheer stubbornness.

"Good," Snape muttered.

Harry kicked at the ground half-heartedly, getting a good look at Snape. His shirt was wrinkled and torn, but there was no blood. It was then that he realized Snape had gone to a Death Eater meeting without the proper garb, something, he assumed was not looked too favorably on.

"Sir?"

"What?" Snape snapped, glaring down at him.

Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat, before speaking. "I think we should find some place to stay nearby."

Snape rolled his eyes and turned away from Harry's anxious eyes. "Potter, we can't rest here for reasons that should be obvious to you."

"But sir, it wouldn't hurt to rest, would it?" Harry asked nervously. "I mean, just for a few hours." A few hours so he could be informed of what had happened, a few hours to come to terms that the anger and disappointment had been focused solely on Snape, a few hours to attempt to put Snape back in correct functioning order, a few hours of peace.

Snape looked like he had swallowed a lemon. Harry waited impatiently for a response, and he rocked back on his heels, hands clasped behind his back.

"Fine," Snape said with obvious reluctance.

"I'm afraid my Bulgarian is a little rusty," Harry said, attempting to lighten the mood. "I figured that just because the Monks spoke some English, it wasn't likely the rest of the country did."

"Too right," Snape said, examining the town around him. While he wasn't exactly fluent in Bulgarian, he had spent enough time with Karkaroff to get by. Barely.

"I bet we could find someone who could point us in the direction of a hotel or something."

"You have such a firm grasp of the obvious," Snape said, searching for someone that didn't look like a tourist. He finally decided to approach a young man sweeping the sidewalk outside of a cafe.

Attempting to hide his limp from Potter the best he could, he walked over to the man and asked in broken Bulgarian for a hotel.

Harry watched the two men speaking back and forth, and though he didn't know what they were saying, he could hear the Bulgarian having to repeat himself a number of times and Snape was looking more and more frustrated.

When he finally returned to Harry's side, he looked irritated. "How'd it go?" Harry asked warily.

"The man is an idiot," Snape growled, not wanting to admit that he hadn't the slightest clue what the man had been saying. "There's got to be somewhere around here, we'll just walk."

Harry nodded slowly and began moving alongside the frustrated man. It didn't take much insight to realize the normally surly man was even worse off now and any chance of a civil conversation was lost for the moment. The annoying bit was Harry really wanted to ask Snape if he was okay, but if he did, he was liable to have his head chewed off and spat out into a sewer drain. If Snape noticed his abnormal silence, he wasn't commenting on it, which spoke louder than the slight limp that Snape was obviously trying to hide, or the deep scowl that was clearing the way for them.

It was funny, in a twisted sort of way, even though Harry knew that if Snape kept up that attitude, they were never going to find a place to stay.

Forcing the ache of his body out of mind, Snape trudged up the street, looking for a hotel that didn't look like it would cost a fortune. Were he feeling even the least bit better, he'd go straight to the Monastery and get it over with, but he knew if he didn't rest, he would drop.

Harry pressed his lips into a thin line as he saw the slight sway in Snape's walking pattern. That certainly wasn't good. He glanced around him for a touristy couple hoping they would know of an affordable place to stay and spotted what looked like likely candidates perusing a shop window.

"I'll be right back," Harry said, halting Snape by touching his arm.

Snape looked at the spot on his arm where Harry had touched him, but said nothing as the boy backed away, then headed off toward a couple. Snape heard him say, "Excuse me, but I don't suppose you speak English," before tuning him out. For a moment, he thought he was going to pass out, his head beginning to spin.

Harry glanced over at his ex-professor with a small frown. He noted the sudden ashen quality of the man's face and his frown deepened in worry.

"Of course," the woman said brightly as if she hadn't seen who he was walking with. "There's one two streets over that me and my husband are staying at. It was the cheapest one we could find and I think there should be rooms available."

Harry forced a smile on his face and thanked the couple profusely, and made it to Snape's side just as he started to collapse. He quickly wrapped an arm around the taller man's waist, unthinkingly, catching him mid-drop and steadying him.

"And you tell me to be more mindful of myself," he muttered, trying to sound more annoyed than scared.

"I'm fine," Snape growled, shrugging Harry off and attempting to stand up straight.

"No, you aren't and it's not polite to lie," Harry growled, waiting for Snape's legs to buckle again. They did just that when Snape tried to move forward. Harry's arm was immediately around his waist again and his expression clearly said: 'I told you so.'

"Did you find out anything?" he asked, ignoring Harry's pointed look.

"Yes," Harry said, walking forward slowly. He could feel how much Snape loathed this, but he wouldn't let go until he knew the man could walk on his own. "There's a hotel two streets over that is supposedly the cheapest one around with good accommodations."

Snape nodded curtly and took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand on his own two feet. "Lead the way," he said, scowling at Harry who was looking at him with concern. "I can walk," he added irritably. In truth, he just wanted to lie down for awhile.

Harry gave him a measured look, but headed off in the direction the woman had pointed. In fact, he really had no idea how far "two streets over" was and for both their sakes and their dignity he hoped it wasn't a far walk. If Snape did in fact collapse on him and was unable to move any further, they were both fucked over big time. Harry couldn't hold all of Snape's weight, and he didn't want to risk casting a spell and having someone notice. Snape was following closely behind him and he was thankful for that.

It felt like miles, but was in fact only two blocks, before they came up to the doors of a nondescript hotel. Snape reached into his pocket, grabbed a handful of bills, and thrust them at Harry.

"Take care of it," he ordered, leaning against the wall and closing his eyes.

Harry nodded, worry very evident in his eyes. He walked through the doors and headed towards the reception desk. He flashed the elderly lady behind the counter a warm smile as he came to a stop in front of it.

"I need a room for one night," he said, with a winning smile, hoping she understood some English.

The white-haired lady offered a smile in return. But it became quickly apparent that this woman knew broken English at best.

"You want one room?" she asked with a thick accent.

"Yes, please," Harry said, nodding for emphasis.

The frail woman's smile widened in delight as she pushed a guest book towards Harry. He smiled picking up the pen and quickly wrote his name and Snape's name in under the list of guests already checked in. Then, he scribbled the number of days they'd be staying. He turned it around, placing the pen back in the middle of the pages, before pushing it back at her. She adjusted her glasses and peered at Harry's messy scrawl before her eyebrows shot up into her head in surprise.

"There two of you?" she asked slowly, as if confused.

Harry nodded and pointed to the door that Snape was just entering. The woman's expression was growing comical. Harry eyed her nervously, shooting an anxious look over his shoulder at Snape.

"Yes, ma'am," he said.

She nodded with a thoughtful look, before tallying something up with a calculator then handed it over the desk to Harry. Harry looked at the number and then at the foreign currency in his hand with a puzzled expression. How come Snape was making him do this? It wasn't like the money here was any more familiar to him. He sighed, leafing through the bills, slowly growing accustomed to the sight and feel of the bills before handing the rough amount to the receptionist. Her patient, welcoming smile back in place, she handed him a room key with a number tag on it telling them the room. He thanked her politely, before walking over to where Snape was watching the proceedings.

"Here," he said, handing the key him.

Snape took the key and looked at the number, 114. He nodded toward the hallway leading to the rooms, scowling at the woman behind the desk. He could just imagine what was going through her mind and none of it was good.

They found the room easily enough and Snape opened the door and walked in, assuming Harry would follow him. Hardly thinking, Snape went straight to the bed and sat down, resting his head in his hands. It felt so good just to sit.

"Shit," Harry muttered, causing Snape to look up in alarm.

"What?" he asked, seeing no reason for concern.

Harry motioned toward the bed. "I told her there was two of us," he said, motioning to the single bed. He really didn't want to spend another night on the floor.

"She probably thinks you're a prostitute," Snape said, smirking. "Daft old woman."

Harry's eyes widened, before he broke down in laughter. "She thought...she thought," he wheezed, clutching his stomach in mirth.

"What did you expect?" Snape asked. "There's no other reasons a young man such as yourself would share a bed with someone like myself," he said derisively. "Go sort it out, I'll wait here," he said tiredly.

Harry cocked his head to the side in confusion. "Are we intending to actually stay here the night, sir?"

"I may have no choice," Snape said, annoyed that Potter of all people was seeing him weak. "At the very least, I need a couple of hours to rest," he added.

"All right," Harry said uneasily. He picked up the key that had been dropped to the floor and silently exited the room, carefully shutting the door so it didn't make a loud noise. He practically ran to the front desk, before slamming the key on the counter.

"There's only one bed," he bit out.

The woman nodded her head with a smile.

"Yes," she said, "one bed."

Harry groaned wanting to slam his head against the desk's surface, but thought better of it when his scar twinged. He prayed it was only a remnant from earlier and not a precursor to another wave of pain.

"There is two of us," Harry said slowly, "We want two," he held up two fingers to clarify, "beds."

The aged woman nodded again, the smile never faltering as she held up two fingers as well. "Two people," she recited.

Harry sighed in frustration. "Can we get a cot moved into the room?" he asked tiredly. The confused expression he was getting made it obvious she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Forget it," he mumbled, dragging the key against the dark wood desk top, before turning and exiting the lobby. He ran an aggravated hand through his messy black hair as he reached the door and inserted the key. He pushed it open, to see that Snape was sitting exactly how he had been when Harry had left.

Snape looked up to find Potter staring at him. "Well?" he asked.

"We're kind of stuck with it," Harry muttered.

Snape shook his head, too tired and in too much pain to worry about it. "Wake me in two hours and we'll go," he said, lying back on the bed. He moved to stretch out, but the pain in his ribs stopped him. In the end he lay on his side, slightly curled. "Just two hours," he said, and before Harry could say anything, Snape fell asleep.

"Two hours my arse," Harry grumbled, curling up in the armchair, settling himself in for what he knew was going to be a very long afternoon.