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: I love friends, especially grammatically inclined ones. I just got my own personal Remus to beta this chapter and I love her so very much.

Chapter Nine

Having quickly got bored watching Snape sleep, Harry decided to go out and get some food for them. He still had money left over from the room and figured that Snape would probably be hungry when he woke up. And even if Snape weren't, Harry was starving.

He left the hotel and went to a little cafe they had passed earlier. He had no clue about anything on the menu, and in the end, just pointed out a couple of different things at random, hoping he wasn't ordering cow tongue or something.

After a rather embarrassing mix up about taking the food with him back to the hotel, Harry returned to their room. Snape lifted his head at the sound of the door.

"Sorry, go back to sleep," Harry said softly. "It's not time yet," he lied, knowing that, no matter what Snape had said, two hours wasn't going to cut it.

Snape made a kind of grunting noise, put his head back down on the pillow, and then fell back into a restless sleep.

Harry sat at the small table and got out the food, trying a bit of everything before settling on something that tasted like something resembling chicken. He could only hope that Snape could eat the other stuff.

Once his stomach was full, he realized how tired he was himself. The few hours on the floor the night before mixed with the anxiety of the day finally caught up with him. With a last longing look at the bed, Harry took the pillow that Snape wasn't passed out on and tossed it onto the floor before following suit. It took awhile to get comfortable, but he was finally able to doze off.

Something was amiss. Snape woke up blearily; every bone in his body ached as he made to stretch out. The stiffness in his joints caused him to groan softly. He stayed still for a moment, willing his body to move in the manner to which he was accustomed.

Snape opened his eyes to an unfamiliar ceiling. A moment later he sat up straight, ignoring his protesting body, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The room was empty.

"Damn it, Potter," he growled, immediately annoyed that not only had the boy allowed him to sleep too long, but he had up and disappeared as well.

He stood up stiffly, hearing rather than just feeling his knees crack. Snape scowled as he limped around the side of the bed towards the bathroom. He didn't notice the lump on the floor because if he had he certainly wouldn't have stepped on it.

"Ow!"

"What the hell are you going on the floor?" Snape asked Harry who was glaring daggers at him.

"I couldn't exactly sleep on the bed, now could I?" Harry replied sarcastically.

"You should have awoken me sooner," Snape answered, continuing on to the bathroom. When he returned, Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed. "What now, Potter?"

Harry quirked an eyebrow. His hands were folded as he leaned his elbows on his knees. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"Of course I'm all right," Snape snapped, ignoring the pain flaring in his ribs. "I just needed to rest. What's this?" he asked, pointing to the cold food on the table.

"Ah," Harry said, standing up off the bed. He crossed the room to the tiny table. "I was hungry and I didn't know when you were going to wake up, so I went out and brought some food." He frowned slightly. "It's probably cold by now, but luckily, this room came with a microwave." Harry pointed at the black box on the sink counter behind them. "There's also a coffee maker if you need it."

Snape looked at Harry blankly for a moment before sitting at the table and looking over the food. The sauce looked congealed, but he was fairly certain he'd eaten worse. Snape poked at it with a plastic fork, stabbing a piece of meat and sniffing it.

"Here," Harry said, pulling the food away from Snape and bringing it to said microwave. He could feel Snape's aggravated stare boring into the back of his head, but he paid the man no mind as he put the food in the microwave, and hit 'one, zero, zero' and pressed start. The microwave whirred into action and Harry leaned against the sink's counter waiting for the minute to pass.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked, looking at the machine curiously.

"Heating up your food," Harry said, his grin a bit smug.

Snape arched an eyebrow. "Is your wand broken?"

"No, but this is the safer, non-traceable way," Harry said, jamming the button to open the microwave door. The food inside was steaming like it had been when he first brought it. He pulled it out and brought it back over to where Snape was still sitting. He set the food before the man and stood back, waiting for whatever nasty remark the greasy git was going to make.

Snape poked at the food with his fork before taking a bite, fighting not to spit it out when it began to burn his tongue. "Hmph," he said, shrugging before continuing to eat. As soon as he took the first bite, he realized how hungry he was and proceeded to make short work of the food on his plate.

Harry snorted and went back to the double-sized bed and sat on the edge of it, just waiting. There wasn't much else he could do at this point.

When Snape was done eating, Harry asked the question that had been bothering him all afternoon. "He was mad, wasn't he?" he asked.

Snape's head snapped in Harry's direction.

"I mean, my scar, it was really hurting and it only does that when Volde— when he's really angry," he said lamely.

"Did you see anything?" Snape asked quickly.

Harry shook his head. "No, it just...hurt."

Snape sighed, resting his head in his hands. "The Dark Lord was not pleased," Snape said, refusing to go into details with the boy.

Harry waited for the other shoe to drop, but Snape had gone tight-lipped on him. Maybe with a little prompting. "Yes, and?"

"And nothing," Snape said, scowling at Harry. What did the brat expect? Was he waiting for a blow by blow account of what happens when Voldemort is angry? "Do you really want all of the gory details?" Snape asked disdainfully. "Would you like to know what happens when the Dark Lord is displeased? I think not, Potter."

"I already know," Harry said quietly. He glanced down at his clenched hands. If Snape was insinuating what he thought he was, then how the hell did he manage to come back still standing?

"Then you should know that I have no wish to talk about it," Snape snapped angrily.

"I'm sorry I worried about you, sir," Harry spat. He stood up, and, with determined strides, entered the tiny bathroom, and then slammed the door shut.

Snape clenched his teeth as the door slammed behind him. He was not accustomed to explaining himself to anyone other than Dumbledore. The last thing he wanted was to explain things to Potter, of all people. Though loathe to admit it, there were things the boy should know and things Snape was going to have to tell him.

"Potter! Get out here!" he yelled.

"NO!"

"Stop acting like a child!"

"Then stop treating me like one!"

Snape clenched his fists. "Then get out here and I will!"

Harry gripped the doorknob and jerked the door open harshly and stepped back out into the room, fists clenched by his side, his jaw ticking slightly. He remained silent.

"Well?"

"He's angry about Draco running off and he's angry that you have disappeared and I have no idea where!" Snape sneered. "Does that satisfy you?"

Harry blinked, scowling slightly, but his tense stance eased as he ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "He took it all out on you then?"

"Not just me, no," Snape replied. "Just enough to remind me who my master is," he said spitefully.

Harry nodded once and turned away, trying to suppress the look of relief and suspicion. Snape was looking at him with disdain and it wouldn't help him to appear worried still. It wasn't a stretch of the imagination to figure out how much pain the greasy git was in. He could see it in every movement the man took and Harry felt guilty because for the most part it was his fault. He had up and disappeared and because of his insatiable sense of duty and honor Snape had been punished.

Snape glared at the back of Harry's head for a moment, and when no other questions were forthcoming, he changed the subject.

"You allowed me to sleep for too long, I'm afraid it's too late to go to the Monastery," he said.

"It isn't as though I didn't pay for us to stay here the night," Harry pointed out, finally turning back around, a small smirk in place. "The floor isn't so bad as long as you don't get stepped on."

Snape made a non-committal noise before moving to sit on the bed. The two sat in awkward silence for a time until Harry said, "I suppose we could watch the telly."

"'Telly'?" Snape sneered.

Harry just pointed at the black television set that was on top of the dresser in front of the bed.

"That."

"Do whatever you wish; just don't leave the room. I need a shower," Snape said, getting to his feet, walking to the bathroom, and closing the door softly behind him. He turned on the water, setting it as hot as he could stand it. Perhaps it would help soothe away some of the aches.

Harry shrugged and went over to the television. He pressed the power button , not really caring what it was set. It was some movie, but it had already begun. It was better than nothing at all, anyway. He sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees and chin resting on his hands. He sighed heavily as he watched the drama unfurl on the screen. It had been a long time since he had seen any television at all, so he couldn't tell if this movie was better or worse in comparison.

In reality, he was only half paying attention to what was happening on screen. His gaze flickered to the shut bathroom door, and a small scowl formed on his lips. Why had he gotten so angry earlier when Snape hadn't told him what happened? It wasn't exactly like they were friends or even confidants, but when Snape had refused it had tasted of bitter betrayal. But why? Why would he even associate betrayal with Snape when it came to something so trivial as that? Perhaps not trivial, but Snape keeping tight-lipped should have been accepted not to mention expected, so why had he forced the issue? He hated Snape, right? RIGHT!?

He rubbed his face furiously and fell back on the bed. Of course he didn't hate Snape. If he hated the bastard, he would have just left him on the street barely moving. He wouldn't be in this room, still thinking about this. He growled, bringing a pillow over his head as if to smother himself with it. Was it really so bad not to hate Snape?

"Of course it's bad," he whispered into the pillow aggressively. It wasn't as though Snape cared one whit about him. His respect was unfounded to say the least, and the worry he still felt shouldn't by natural rights be there. Maybe someone was messing with his head because there was no way he had been worried. And he certainly wasn't worried now! Nope, the feeling he got when he saw the lines under Snape's eyes or watched the man limp across the room was nothing. It was indigestion from eating the foreign food and being thought a prostitute. It had absolutely nothing to do with fear or nerves. Nothing!

Snape got out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He spelled his clothing clean before putting it back on. His hair still damp, he left the bathroom to find Potter sprawled out on the bed with a pillow over his head.

"There are faster ways to kill youself, though I must admit it cuts down on the mess if you do it that way," Snape said, sitting at the small table. "They aren't even speaking English," he said, motioning towards the television.

Harry pulled his face off the pillow and glared. "No, really?"

"Why even have the blasted thing on? You can't understand a word; it's just noise," Snape said disdainfully.

"Because it is just noise," Harry mumbled, pulling the pillow back over his head.

"Quit sulking," Snape said, scowling at Potter.

Git. Harry pulled the pillow off his face again and refrained from sticking out his tongue childishly. "Yes, sir," he groused, sitting up and putting the pillow behind his head this time. He stared at Snape, willing him to move away from the television set.

Despite not having a clue what they were saying, Snape found himself watching the television, almost mesmerized. He wrote it off to being exhausted that something so inane could be so oddly comforting.

"Sir?" Harry ventured after a very long moment.

"Hmm?" Snape said tiredly.

"I'm glad you're all right."

Snape looked at Harry curiously, searching his face for sarcasm, but found none there. "Thank you," he said, frowning. He wasn't at all sure what to make of the comment and it had left him a little off balance.

Harry grinned, inwardly he was cackling. It wasn't often that he could throw Snape off like this and he wasn't about to say anything to balls it up.

After another long awkward silence, Snape got to his feet and began to pace, aware of Harry's eyes following him.

Harry stifled a yawn as he watched Snape pace back and forth like a caged animal. "Sir, could you possibly stop?" he asked hopefully.

Snape stopped and scowled at Harry before returning to his seat. "Do you think there's a spy in the Order?" he asked, taking Harry by surprise.

"I never thought about it," Harry answered with a confused frown.

"There's no reason for the Dark Lord to know that you've disappeared unless someone from the Order told him," Snape said, deep in thought.

"But...who would?" Harry asked, having issues wrapping his mind around the very idea that anyone in the Order would betray the cause like that.

Snape looked at Harry thoughtfully. "I don't know, but something isn't right. I'm beginning to wonder if you should even go back."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. "Sir?" he asked, curiously wondering what Snape was thinking.

"You said that nobody knows where you are, that you just left, correct?" Snape asked and Harry nodded.

"I'm sure the Order is up in arms about it by now, but there is no reason for anyone else to know that you aren't where you should be, which begs the question: is there a spy in the Order, feeding information to the Dark Lord?" Snape stated, the wheels in his mind beginning to turn.

Harry stared at him dumbly. In his mind he could picture the scene clearly: Ron outraged, Hermione pulling at him trying to calm him down, Ginny silently laughing at both of them, Mrs. Weasley in hysterics, McGonagall looking like a stick had been rammed up her bum, Tonks asking a dozen different questions, Remus clenching a cup of tea head bowed in silent worry, Mundungus pretending to sleep as always. Then there was the remaining Order members whom he hardly knew at all, but none of them seemed like the bad sort.

"Sir, what if it's not someone directly in the Order? What if someone let it slip in worry and someone overheard?"

"Possibly," Snape said. "Some of them are stupid enough to let it slip in worry," he added, thinking of Mundungus in particular. "No matter, as there is nothing I can do about it at the moment. First, the cup, then I'll deal with it," Snape said, feeling as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders.

Damn Dumbledore for doing this to him!

"Listen, Snape, I don't know about you, but I have no idea what to expect from the monks this time. I doubt they'll be nice enough to just open their vaults and say enjoy, and I was rather hoping you might have a plan."

"Of course I have a plan," Snape said, scowling. In truth, his plan involved scouting out the situation and making a decision from there, but Potter didn't need to know that. "First thing tomorrow, we'll go see what we can find out. Then, it's just a matter of getting the cup off the premises," he said as if it were a given that they would succeed.

"I never would have pegged you as an optimist," Harry murmured, staring at the taller man pensively.

Snape chuckled. "I'm surprised: I practically ooze optimism."

"Shut it," Harry mumbled, grinning slightly.

Snape's lip quirked into something resembling a smile. By all rights, he should hex the brat for his lax attitude, but Snape couldn't seem to muster the energy to care. He just wanted for it all to be over.

"You should sleep; we may not get another chance for some time," he said, getting to his feet and looking at the bed.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked, worry flooding back into him again. He mentally berated himself for the emotion.

"Yes," Snape said, pulling the duvet from the bed and tossing it onto the floor. "I won't be able to sleep for some time; you might as well take the bed," he said, sitting at the table once again. There were too many things going on in his mind to allow for sleep.

Harry nodded and toed off his shoes, before falling back onto the pillow and curling into a ball. Despite not being tired, it was only a few moments before he had drifted off.

An hour later, Snape realized that he had spent the previous twenty minutes watching Potter sleep. With a weary sigh, he used a bit of magic to transfigure the duvet cover into something more comfortable. He lay down and listened to Harry's even breathing until he fell into a restless sleep.