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: Happy Spring, Everyone! I hope your day was warm and nice, mine was!

Chapter Ten

Harry wasn't entirely surprised when he found himself waking up in the middle of the night gasping in pain. His chest rose and fell rapidly as his eyes darted around the unfamiliar settings. He could feel panic well up inside of him as he struggled to remember where he was. He didn't know where he was.

He twisted under the covers, realizing that he was fully dressed. Panicked whimpers emerged from his throat as he fought with the comforter and sheets.

Snape awoke to the sound of thrashing in the bed above him. Harry's whimper had him on his feet, wand out, searching the room for danger. "Lumos!" he cried, and the room brightened considerably.

Harry was sitting upright in the bed, his fists clenched around the sheets, eyes wide with panic. "Potter?" Snape said, feeling uncertain. Danger was one thing, dealing with nightmares other than his own was quite another. Harry's eyes flew to his, but were completely lacking recognition.

Snape sat down on the bed and shook Harry roughly. "Potter!" he said, his voice sounding like a shout in the silence of the night.

Harry cringed and went still, soft pained whimpers bubbling out of his mouth. His green eyes stared unknowingly at the taller man beside his bed. He looked familiar and Harry tried to remember why this stranger was familiar to him.

"Where am I?" he asked, trembling as he pulled the covers up to his nose.

"Potter! Wake up!" Snape ordered, frowning and shaking Harry's shoulder. Either he was in the throes of a vision, or he was just having a bad nightmare. Either way, Snape needed him to snap out of it.

Harry squeaked and shied away from the touch, eyes brimming with tears. Oh his uncle and aunt were going to be so angry when he was sent back and this scary man was going to hurt him. Harry attempted to shift under the blankets more in attempts to hide.

"Did you kidnap me?" he asked voice quaking.

Kidnapped??

Snape sat back, his frown deepening. What in the name of Merlin was wrong with the boy. "Finite Incatatum!" he said, pointing his wand at Harry. If Potter was under a spell, he hoped he could break it, but Harry was only looking more terrified.

Harry was crying now, big fat tears rolling down his cheeks as he stared up in terror at the dark man.

"Don' hurt me," he cried, curling into a ball.

"Oh for...I'm not going to hurt you," Snape replied, scowling at Harry who was curled into a ball on the bed. What in the hell was going on? Was Voldemort controlling him somehow? Was it even safe to be in the same room with him? He was at a complete and total loss.

"Potter...Harry...?" he said, voice trailing off. What was he supposed to say?

"How you know my name?" He squeaked in a terrified, wide eyed manner. He was still trembling but not as badly as curiosity over came his fear.

"Why are you talking like a five year old?" Snape asked, his sense of panic rising.

Harry looked at him with fear and a bit of awe. "Cause I am, sir?" he said shakily as if fearing being reprimanded for it.

Snape blinked. "Because I am," Snape said, automatically correcting his grammar. He sat down on the bed once again and looked at Harry thoughtfully.

Age regression spell? Was his memory erased? It wasn't possible. Even the Dark Lord would have to at least be in the same room with the boy. Wouldn't he?

Snape's grip on his wand tightened. "Potter, what's the last thing you remember?" he asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Harry blinked and frowned deeply, gnawing on his lower lip in thought. "I don' remember, sir." Harry finally admitted bowing his head and looking at his hands in his lap. They were big. He held them up to his face in abject fascination, before looking back up at the dark man as if he would know why his hands were so big.

"I've got to get you out of here," Snape said, afraid that any minute the Death Eaters were going to blast the door in to get to them.

"Where are we?" Harry asked again, feeling nervous just because the man was darting glances at the door.

"Bulgaria," Snape said. "I'm Severus Snape, you're Harry Potter and we're in Bulgaria," Snape said, getting to his feet and gathering their things together as quickly as he could. "What in the bloody hell is going on?" he muttered.

Harry tilted his head to the side, eye brows furrowed in thought. The name was familiar everything about this was familiar and he didn't think that was quite right. The name Snape resonated within him and left him more confused. It was important. The name was important for more than one reason but he couldn't remember why.

And why was he in Bulgaria? And where were his aunt and uncle? Did they know he was here, did they care? He felt tears prickling his eyes as he thought of his birthday recently where all he got was a rubber band and that had snapped and hurt his hand not even an hour after receiving it. They didn't like him very much, did they? And Mr. Snape seemed to be nice enough. He hadn't done much more than point at stick at him. And that brought him to another problem. That stick. Something was important about it and the rushed words Mr. Snape had said.

Magic, his mind supplied helpfully for him. He gasped as his eyes suddenly widened in recognition. He groaned miserably, pulling the blankets back over his head in embarrassment. He couldn't remember the last time he had woken up in that bad a state, definitely not at Hogwarts though.

"Shit," he swore into the mattress.

Snape had watched the wheels practically turning in Harry's head. "Potter?" he asked, when Harry's face finally cleared, but the boy pulled the blankets over his head.

"Damn it," Snape growled, stalking to the bed and ripping the covers off of Harry. "You're not five!" he shouted in frustration.

Harry glared at the older man. "Fuck, don't you think I realize that," he said with a scowl.

Snape stepped back, surprised. "Then why in the name of Merlin were you acting like it?!" he snapped.

Harry blushed, wishing Snape hadn't dropped the comforter on the floor so he could hide his flaming face. "I...I don't react normally to certain situations," he admitted, ashamed of his own mind.

"Really?" Snape asked sarcastically. "What brought that on?" he asked, curiously. "Was it the Dark Lord?"

"Sorta," Harry mumbled unable to hold Snape's gaze any longer and closed his eyes.

"There is no 'sort of', Potter. If it was the Dark Lord I need to know. We may be in danger!"

"No, not in that sense," Harry said calmly or as calmly as one could when they were trying to stop from shaking. "We're safe."

"Would you know if we were?" Snape asked derisively, not at trusting Potter's instincts at the moment.

Harry looked at Snape uncertainly. At this point in time he really had nothing to lose anymore. His dignity had snuck out the backdoor when he hadn't been looking. He sighed and looked down at his hands, tracing his life line on one palm.

"Explain yourself," Snape ordered.

"It's not a short story, sir."

"We're stuck here until morning," Snape said, sitting at the table. "I need to know," Snape said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. If Potter didn't tell him, he would get the information in a less pleasant way.

Harry sighed. "Which part do you want first? The bit about how I know we're safe for now or the bit about why I woke up under the delusion that I was only five?"

"I think it best that you start at the beginning," Snape said, watching Harry carefully.

"All right." Harry inhaled deeply, sorting through his thoughts. There was only so much Snape had seen when entering his memories and he was about to expound upon them, something he never, ever thought he would do in a million years or even want to. And he wanted to. He wanted someone to know about what he went through as a child. "It started October 31, 1981," he began, noting Snape's look of disbelief.

Snape arched a brow, but said nothing. When he said beginning, he didn't mean the beginning of Potter's whole life. He waited impatiently for Harry to continue.

"The night Dumbledore left me on the Dursely's doorstep to be taken care of." Harry ran a hand through his hair backwards mussing it up more. "I don't have any recollection of the first two years but the first thing I remember was my fourth birthday, or the birthday I was forced in the cupboard under the stairs for the first time. My best friends were spiders. I fancied they were talking back to me as I told them what I did that day. That they actually cared about me.

"It was when I was five that I started to ask about my own parents and that was when the lies began. They told me my dad was a drunk and my mother was a worthless whore and they died in a car crash. They told me they were good for nothings and I was no better than they were." Harry swallowed hard, looking at the wall behind the bed contemplating how to go about this next bit. "It was after that first time they told me that I began to get nightmares. Always a flash of light and high pitched laughter, I could never remember the rest of it when I woke up, just the light and laughter. I tried to tell my aunt this the next morning and she hit me with a spatula and told me to never mention such things again."

Snape frowned. The boy talked to spiders? Sweet Merlin, was he daft in the head?

As the story continued, Snape's frowned turned to a look of confusion. James Potter could very well have been a drunk, and Snape wouldn't have doubted it for a moment, but Lily? A whore? That was about as likely as Snape winning a popularity contest.

"The curse," Snape found himself saying aloud when Harry described the light and the laughter. He remembered that? But he was so young when it happened, though Snape's memory of the first time his father struck him was rather young as well.

Harry shrugged uncomfortably, not quite looking at Snape but at a spot over his shoulder. "I hear my parents die when I'm near Dementors, now that I think about it, I'm not surprised. But you wanted to know why I was acting five, not shit like that." He rubbed his hands over his face aggressively.

"I'm certain by now Dumbledore must have told you about my connection with Volde- the Dark Lord," he corrected quickly.

"Of course," Snape said. "He was going to work on your Occlumency skills before..." Snape trailed off, not wanting to go down that road at the moment. "Suffice to say, that is why he chose to keep you in the dark about so many things. The Dark Lord could easily find information that we could not let him have," Snape said, frowning.

"Well, it's not only a one way operation. I don't only feed information to him, but when his feelings are very strong, I get a glimpse of his thoughts and feelings as well. It's not a pretty place to be." Harry rubbed his arms uncomfortably. "The first time I woke up disoriented and thinking I was younger than I was, was when I was nine, of course the Durselys never noticed the difference and it took me a lot longer to get over it then it did tonight. I don't understand why it happens, sir, it just does and I'm sorry."

Snape's mind was filing away information and sorting it in order of importance. "Do these moments of disorientation last long? Do I need to worry about trying to get a five-year-old mind to do the things a grown man is expected to do?" he asked, needing to know how bad it could get. It might be better for everyone if he sent Potter back to the Order.

But what if there was a spy in their ranks? Snape was still not entirely sure on that point.

"No, counting right now it's only happened three times. The last time was a year ago in the summer right after Sirius fell through the veil," he admitted quietly.

Snape nodded. At least the odds were slim this would happen again while Harry was with him. He didn't like how vulnerable to danger he felt when Potter was in the midst of his spell. "Anything else I need to know?" Snape asked.

"No sir," Harry said softly. "I'm sorry I woke you."

Snape waved the apology away, his mind already moving on. He was going to have to resume Potter's Occlumency lessons. The Dark Lord could not find out about him which he could easily do were he to try and invade Potter's mind.

"We need to resume your Occlumency lessons," Snape said, not at all pleased with the prospect.

Harry groaned and fell backwards on the bed. "Thank you," he grit out.

"Don't pout," Snape ordered. "I do not wish to be killed because you cannot keep certain thoughts hidden away."

Harry's face paled and he nodded. He hadn't thought about that. Just being in this room with him could endanger Snape's life. His eyes were wide as he sat back up.

"I...sorry," he mumbled, feeling shaky from that thought.

"As am I," Snape said, still looking at Harry with a furrowed brow.

"Sir?"

"Gods, he left such a mess behind," Snape said, unsure why he had spoken the words aloud.

Harry couldn't help but nod in agreement not even needing to ask who Snape was talking about. "Do you miss him?" Harry asked curiously.

Everyday, Snape thought, but only gave Harry a curt nod. He did not want to talk about Dumbledore and wished he had never brought him up.

Harry stared at Snape for a long moment, searching his face for something, anything to clue him in on the man's mental state but like always Snape's face was on lock down, not a hint of emotion other than irritation showing through.

He wanted to apologize for asking but that would mean risking Snape's wrath for an entirely different reason.

"I do too," he whispered, eyes downcast.

The two of them sat in silence, but for the first time it wasn't awkward. After a time, Snape cleared this throat. "Perhaps you should try and sleep. There are a few more hours before the sun comes up, and we can do nothing before then."

"All right," Harry said, laying down against the pillow and inhaling deeply. He looked up at Snape for a moment, before asking: "Are you going to go back to sleep as well?"

Snape shook his head. "No, given circumstances, I have to change some of my initial plans," he said, already losing himself in thought. "Sleep while you can."

"All right." Harry burrowed his head into the soft pillow. "G'night again, sir."

Snape arched an eyebrow, but the effect was lost as Harry was already sleeping. The lanky man snorted and sat down at the small table where he had dined early that night. He waited until he was absolutely positive that Potter was asleep before, rubbing his hands aggressively over his face and sighing loudly. Too many thoughts crowded his mind each vying for a bit of his time, but he brushed them aside, instead focusing on what was to happen later that day.