Spy vs. Spy

BY : Mrs.Bauble
Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female
Dragon prints: 5494
Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter, or any of JK Rowling's characters. This is just fanfiction, and I am not making any money from this story.

            It was one in the morning, and Severus Snape was prowling the empty hallways as he so often did, when he was startled by a very loud BANG.  With the instincts of a battle-hardened spy, the potions master sprang into action. His wand flew into his hand seemingly of its own accord, as he took off in a sprint.  The noise was reverberating throughout the castle, and it was extremely difficult to pinpoint its exact location, but Severus Snape had a pair of the sharpest ears at Hogwarts, and he knew every inch of the school grounds. The figures in the paintings around him awoke indignantly, and in a flutter of squawking and other impudent noises, they tried to follow him through their picture frames. Snape whirled through the far corridor, a faintly sulfurous odor pricking his nostrils. He followed it. His footsteps pounded on the stone floor, and he flew through a pack of ghosts that had been gossiping just around the corner. It was difficult to ignore the nasty chill he experienced as they touched him.

     “ATTACK! ATTACK ON THE SCHOOL!” Cried Peeves, who was only too eager to spread panic and chaos, even though there were no students around for him to torment. Severus ignored him, as well.

        He found her first. The stranger was feverishly casting protective spells left and right. Her back was turned to him as she slammed a pair of heavy oak doors and locked them with a ferocious clang. Wand outstretched, he approached her, but before he could reach her, she turned on him savagely, her eyes huge and round as she hissed a nasty spell that sent several long sharp daggers flying towards his unprotected face. He only just managed to block them with a counter spell, turning them to dust.  She cast it again, and again, until the air was full of her deadly missiles, but her aim was erratic and he countered every one, in great puffs of glittering smoke.  Before she could attack again, Severus grabbed her wrist, and wrenched the wand from her trembling fingers. The stranger tried frantically to fend him off, clawing at his face with her free hand. He caught that one as well, and spun her around to pin her arms behind her back. His elbow encircled her throat, so she had no choice but to submit. Her breaths came in short, shuddering gasps, and she bit down on his forearm, but she was too weak to do much damage. A terrible sob escaped her lips, which were very pale.

     “Hush now.” He said more sharply than he meant to. “I won’t harm you unless you force me to. What’s your name, girl?” She stopped squirming at the sound of his voice, and stared up at him wildly with very large blue eyes. He noticed two things at once. The first was that she was no girl, but a young woman. The second was that she was mad. He held her firmly, but he knew that he was hurting her. Her wrists were badly bruised and the skin was raw.  “Alright. I’m going to let go of you now, and I want you to sit, exactly where you are. I still have my wand on you and I will not hesitate. As far as I am concerned, you are breaking and entering.” The woman slumped to the floor and rubbed gingerly at her now bleeding wrists. It was difficult to tell what color her hair was, as it was very tangled and dirty. Her black jeans were torn at the knees, which were both badly skinned, and the heel on one of her dragon hide boots had fallen off.  Judging by the black mud that smeared her skin and clothes, she had been running through the forbidden forest.

     “Oh my sweet Merlin. Is that-“ Professor McGonagall was in her tartan night dress. Several other professors had gathered as well, all in their pajamas with their wands emitting an eerie glow.

     “Freya.” Professor Dumbledore said quietly.  Snape’s eyes narrowed as the others moved aside reverently for the head master. He was wearing a sort of nightgown, with tiny stars embroidered all over it, complete with furry slippers and a long pointed sleeping cap. At the sight of him, the woman kicked Severus sharply in the knee, and he buckled, hissing in pain. She scrabbled over him in a feeble attempt to escape, and Snape quickly wrapped his arms around her, cursing hoarsely.

     “Stop it, you stupid girl.” He growled. She smelled of sweat, fear, and oddly enough, garlic.

     “Stupefy.” Dumbledore murmured. She crumpled on the spot, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and sighed, almost in relief. Then, she began to snore softly.  Snape snorted, and gingerly turned her over, then stood to dust himself off. He looked up at the headmaster, and was about to suggest they take her to the dungeons for questioning, when the elderly wizard turned to Hagrid, who looked very worried indeed.

      “Please help me bring her to Madam Pomfrey.”

      Hagrid grunted softly, and picked her up as if she were nothing more than a child. Her head lolled back like a ragdoll’s, her neck bones crackling sickeningly, and in the dim light, they saw that her throat had been punctured several times. Vampire bites. Hundreds of them. Many of them looked quite old and had already turned to scars. There were gasps of dismay, and Mcgonagall’s hand leapt to her own throat.

     “My gods, they’ve nearly drained her. How is she still alive?” The elderly witch retrieved a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed at the sweat on the unconscious woman’s brow, struggling to keep up with Hagrid’s gigantic stride. Dumbledore ignored her.

     “Hagrid, please take her directly to the hospital wing. Tell Poppy to give her a private room and to charm the door. If she awakes, try not to restrain her unless absolutely necessary, but do not allow yourself, or the medical staff to be harmed. Do not leave her side. She will be very agitated, and very confused. Something abysmal has happened, and she may not know where she is. I do not believe she even knew who I was. We will help her recover, but we cannot determine the severity of the damage to her mind until she has rested.”

     The large man sniffed, clearly holding back tears. Severus fought the urge to roll his eyes. This was all happening so suddenly, and he had many, many questions.

     “Professor, if I may-“ He began, but Dumbledore cut him short.

     “Severus, retrieve her wand, then please contact Remus Lupin. Tell him he is to come immediately. When you’ve secured him, both of you are to wait in my office.”

     “Albus, what-“ Mcgonagall started, but Professor Flitwick tugged at her skirt, and shook his head. Mocgonagall pressed her lips together in a worried frown.

     Albus Dumbledore turned on his heels as Hagrid padded off swiftly to the hospital wing. He gave them all a very stern look over the tops of his half moon spectacles.

     “In a few days, the great hall will be filled with students once again.  Summer is over, and the school needs you now, more than ever. These are dark times we all live in. Do not speak openly about what you have seen here tonight.  Freya’s presence will not remain a secret for long, but I will not have you spreading rumors among the students. They can do that on their own.  For now…” He looked meaningfully at the spot where Hagrid had just been.” “…It would appear we have a guest. Treat her with kindness, but do not let your guard down. We will take turns watching over her tonight. Anything she says will be reported to me directly. ” He turned around, and disappeared down the long dark corridor.

     The other professors looked at each other uncertainly, then quietly agreed to meet in the teacher’s lounge for a spot of tea. Sleep would be difficult to find, that night.

                                                *          *          *

     Severus scowled darkly at the haggard man who, moments before, had stepped through his fireplace. The werewolf didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy staring quizzically at the headmaster, who sat behind his enormous desk. Dumbledore gazed back at him soberly.

     “Remus. Thank you for coming so quickly. I might have written, but I do not trust an owl with this information.”

     “Yes. Anything. Of course. When will the others be arriving?” Lupin asked politely yet somewhat wearily. There was a pregnant pause, and Severus knew that Albus was about to say something unpleasant.

     “They will not be joining us this evening. I thought you would want to know as soon as possible. Freya has returned to us.” He said gently. There was a short moment of heavy silence before Lupin started to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process. The door slammed in his face before he could leave. “Please Remus, have a seat. What I have to say is for you and Severus alone.” Snape winced at this. “There are things that even The Order does not know. As difficult as it may be, you must understand that Freya’s work has been completely confidential. Until tonight, even Severus did not know of her existence.” Snape frowned at this. He had known that Albus kept secrets from him, but he didn’t have to like it.

     Dumbledore continued.“Several years ago, Arthur Weasley received notice of an unusually large collection of enchanted Muggle artifacts. They were popping up in very unlikely places. Pencils that could listen to any conversation, and record what was said when no one was watching were finding their way into the desks of Muggle authorities. Pictures that did not move, but could spy upon their owners were being hung in the private homes of Muggle politicians. These objects were not circulating in England, but were being sold at private auctions all over Europe. Arthur learned that the proprietors of these artifacts were connected with an underground group of Death Eater apologists. One might even call them ‘fanatics.’ They were wealthy witches and wizards who would not openly support the dark lord, but had left a very thin paper trail. It took years to find them and believe me the work was tedious.

     We believe they had been secretly financing Voldemort during the first war, not just with gold, but with ancient spells, cursed items, and worse. They threw secret parties that were very posh, but very private and extremely difficult to attend. Every time we got close to learning their identities, they disappeared in a puff of smoke, but Freya…” Dumbledore sighed, and removed his glasses in order to clean them. “Freya was a sweet girl at the time, and a very talented. Her paintings were growing in popularity, particularly in underground scenes. I’m sure it was difficult for them to resist. She was approached, you see. Someone made her an offer. I still don’t know who it was. He gave her a job, painting a mural in his home, and while she worked for him, they grew close. He introduced her to his friends and…well. That’s when she first contacted me. She was nineteen at the time. The last I’d heard from her, she had intercepted some very delicate information. Voldermort’s followers were attempting to win the favor of a very large nest of vampires in Albania. She was going to infiltrate. That was over two years ago. I must confess I…believed her to be dead.” The room fell silent, then to Severus’ amazement, Lupin lept to his feet in a rage.

     “You…you…” Remus panted, his fingers twitching.

     “Please sit down, Remus.”

     “My…my baby sister! You…” Lupin stammered. Snape frowned at Lupin. Since when did that mongrel have a sister? “Nineteen! She was barely out of school, and you sent her out to die!”

     “Calm yourself, Remus. She was a grown woman and she volunteered for the job. She knew the risk, just as you did.”

      “In all fairness headmaster…” Snape said softly. “She couldn’t possibly have known. Neither of you knows what it means to live the way she’s been living. She was surrounded by enemies at all times and if she had been caught…”

     “It appears as though she was caught, Severus.” Dumbledore admitted with the trace of a grimace.  Snape scowled. He didn’t like that Dumbledore had been hiding this from him.

     Lupin was muttering darkly. “She stopped writing to me years ago. You knew, though. You knew where she was, and that she was in trouble.  How could you, Albus? Easier than you know. Thought Snape.

     Albus had the good grace to look humble. “At the time, I believed it was for the greater good, Remus.”

     “The greater good.” Remus repeated, blankly, his eyes narrowing. “It should have been me.”

     Snape snorted, unable to keep his contempt to himself. “You? You think Death Eaters wouldn’t see through you in a heartbeat? You think that vampires can’t sniff out a bloody werewolf, even when the moon is waning? You’re a bloody fool.”

     Lupin clenched the arms of his chair in fury, and then seemed to calm himself with a few long breaths. “I want to see her. “

     Albus look at him sadly. “She may not know who you are.”

     “I don’t care. She’s family, and I’m going to see her.” Lupin rose, and left the office. This time, the door let him leave.  Snape gave the headmaster a cool look, and arched an eyebrow.

     “What does any of this have to do with me?”

     “When Freya is well again, I have every intention of offering her the Defense Against the Dark Arts position.”

     Snape sputtered furiously for a moment, anger flaring in his belly. “I was under the impression that I would be teaching that particular subject this year.” His voice was very low.

     “I am an old man, Severus, and I reserve the right to change my mind when it suits me. Given the circumstances…”

     “THE CIRCUMSTANCES?”  Snape hissed. “She breaks into the school with a gang of Death Eaters on her tail, and you want to give her my job?”

     “She came to us, weakened and terrified, yet somehow managed to evade all of our defensive spells, AND she’s escaped from one of the largest nests of vampires in Europe, AND she avoided said gang of Death Eaters. I’d say she’s more than qualified, assuming she hasn’t lost her mind in the process. The students need a teacher. She needs a place to stay. It is…convenient.”

     Snape’s lips twitched into a grimace. “What do you want me to do?”

     “Keep an eye on her, of course. If she isn’t up to snuff, then I am wrong, and if I am wrong…”

      Severus understood. If Dumbledore was wrong, it meant she’d had help getting inside the castle. It meant she had double-crossed the Order, out of fear for her own life. He tensed at this thought. If she was a double agent, that meant she was a threat, not only to the order, but to his students as well. Severus could be a surly bastard, and he certainly had his favorites, but he still cared about the welfare of his pupils. If she wasn’t Voldemort’s spy, then she had escaped a from gang of vampires, made her way across half of Europe while starving and exsanguinated, slipped through Hogwarts’ defensive enchantments and still managed to attack him on sight. She was dangerous either way.

     “As you wish, Albus.”

     “Get some sleep, Severus. Please visit our new guest tomorrow and report back to me.”

 

                                                            *          *          *

 

         When Snape entered Freya’s hospital room the following morning, he found Poppy Pomfrey sitting on her patient’s bed, attempting to pour a steaming black liquid down the witch’s throat. Hagrid was helping as best he could by propping her up and holding her mouth open with his enormous fingers, but the unconscious witch was fighting back, and she was moaning terribly, thrashing her head and striking out with clawed hands. She was only partially awake. Pomfrey had managed to get most of the medicine down, but some of it was trickling down her chin and spilling onto her chest. With a massive jolt, Freya knocked the bottle violently from the mediwitch’s hands and it shattered on the wall. Hagrid let go of her and backed away. She then fell back onto the bed, where she lay twitching convulsively, as if she’d just been struck by lightning. Snape’s nostrils twitched at the unpleasant stench of the potion that now oozed closer to the hem of his robes.

     The room was pleasantly cool, but the young witch’s skin was flushed pink and she was sweating profusely. Her eyes fluttered open, showing only the whites, and she bared her teeth at him like a savage animal. He went to her side, and felt her forehead. She tried to bite him, but he pulled away in time.

     “What have you given her?” He asked quietly, unnerved by the way she opened her eyes, but didn’t appear to see.

     “Essence of dugbog liver. It’s foul stuff, but it will help her blood replenish itself. I’m off to find more. I’ve also given her a heavy sleeping potion, but she’s been fighting it. Believe it or not, she’s much improved in the past few hours. We had to keep her locked in tight. Tore the sheets to shreds, poor thing. She’s been nearly drained of blood, but I’d say her condition is closer to post traumatic stress. The one thing we can’t treat with magic.” She shook her head, sadly. “She’ll be plagued with nightmares for the rest of her life. I’m sure of it. Hagrid, you need to get some sleep. Severus, if you’d be so kind as to undress her? I’ve checked her for injuries, but her clothes are too damp to sleep in. “

           Snape frowned at this. Normally Poppy would never ask this of a teacher, particularly a male teacher, in the interests of her patient’s privacy, but the way the mediwitch’s eyes refused to meet his own told him everything. She was frightened. He nodded, shifting uncomfortably as Hagrid bid them goodnight. Playing nursemaid was not his specialty. Outside, he heard Poppy and Lupin arguing in sharp whispers. Lupin clearly wanted to enter against her wishes. Snape turned back to the bed, and pointed his wand at the shattered bottle. “Reparo.” He muttered. The glass shards collected themselves, and were whole again. Seating himself awkwardly on the side of the bed, he picked up the shears that Poppy had left on the bedside table for him, and then eyed the suspiciously still figure, warily. Her hair had been scourgified, and although it was still a tangled nest, he could now see that it was a rich scarlet color. Her skin was milky pale, and her eyelashes very dark against high cheekbones.

       The witch…Freya…mumbled something incoherent, and a nasty spasm shook her entire body. He waited until she appeared to be asleep, then very carefully, he snipped through the fabric of her shirt, which was far too large for her, and gingerly peeled it from her flesh. As inappropriate as it may have been, Severus Snape was still a hot-blooded wizard and his gaze lingered on her ample, naked breasts. Her nipples were a dusky pink, and they hardened from the sudden exposure.  He licked his lips, which were suddenly very dry and he wondered how she would respond if he were to capture one in his mouth, and bite down a little. Snape was not a gentle man. There were a few scars along her hips and torso, not unlike several he wore himself.  She was also rather tattooed and he was surprised at how lovely he found them. Thin, intricate runes marked her flesh in deep indigo ink, decorating her chest and arms as well as her hands. He recognized some of them as very old Norse protective charms. Very few witches and wizards still practiced this craft, as it was very deadly if performed incorrectly. He studied her face. She was not the most beautiful witch, but he couldn’t deny that she was…pleasant.  Clearing his throat, he reached out deftly unbuttoned her ruined jeans, and slid them down her legs. His fingers brushed the soft skin of her thighs, and he felt his cock stiffen in his trousers. It had been many years since he’d undressed a woman like this. Luckily, her more intimate parts were hidden beneath a pair of men’s boxers, which he left alone. She’d clearly stolen the clothes that she was wearing.

     His heart pounded when he heard footsteps outside the door and he hastily covered her naked flesh with a sheet, then shook his head. Why should he be embarrassed? He was only doing what Poppy had asked of him.

      Freya suddenly thrashed convulsively in her sleep, and he recognized the symptoms of prolonged exposure to the cruciatus curse. If she was a spy for Voldemort, they certainly hadn’t spared her because of it. Instinctively, he placed a hand on her forehead again. This time she made no attempt to bite him. Surprisingly, she seemed to relax at the touch. She had a fever. There was a sponge soaking in cool water on the bedside table as well, and he squeezed it over her brow, the way he’d seen Poppy do a hundred times, careful not to get any in her eyes. He frowned at her. She didn’t look like much of a spy, although that was the point, wasn’t it? He heard the sound of Madam Pomfrey re-entering the room.

     “Looks like she’s finally calmed down. Here.” She handed him a new bottle of dugbog liver. “That werewolf is out there making such a fuss. I’ve half a mind to hit him with a bedpan.” Snape snorted in amusement. He’d always rather liked the mediwitch. Merlin knew she’d patched him up enough times. Very cautiously, he placed his arm beneath Freya’s head, and cradled it in the crook of his elbow. She whimpered, and her eyes fluttered open a bit. Her gaze was very clouded, but she seemed to register him somewhat.

     “Drink.” He commanded in a low, husky voice. Her eyes closed again, and he managed to pour the contents of the bottle, little by little, between her parted lips, which had been stained rouge from the medicine. She tried to pull away, and grimaced. “All of it, witch.” She nodded slightly, and gulped it down.

     “She seems to respond to your voice, Severus.” Poppy said. He glared at her, unsure if she was being cheeky.

     The door burst open, and Lupin strode in unceremoniously, ignoring Poppy’s cries of protest. “Stupid bloody werewolf.” Snape sneered. Freya’s eyes opened wide, and with a sharp gasp, flung her hand dramatically towards Lupin, who flew bodily against the wall. Severus’ eyebrows shot up in surprise. Wandless magic? Albus would be very interested in that.

     “I…” Freya began, then coughed violently. “Werewolf?” She sounded drunk, Snape suspected from the medicine and the lingering effects of Dumbledore’s spell. Lupin staggered to his feet, and pushed Severus roughly aside to take his place.

     “Why you little…” Snape snarled angrily. It wasn’t like Lupin to behave this way. He seemed much wilder than usual.

     “Hush, Freya. You’re safe now. No one will hurt you ever again.” Remus brushed the hair from his sister’s forehead.

     “That’s…bloody… unlikely.” Freya sighed as though every word was a monumental effort. “But then, who…?” She trailed off as her glazed eyes settled on Severus. Her brow furrowed, and she suddenly passed out again, her head hitting the pillow with a dull thud.

     “That’s quite enough! Both of you, OUT. Go on, out with you!” Madam Pomfrey scolded them like little boys. Lupin’s face reddened sheepishly as she shooed them from the hospital wing. “Honestly.” They heard her muttering to herself, no doubt threatening to complain to the headmaster about this nonsense.

                                                            *          *          *

            The day after was uneventful. He had been to check on her twice, and both times she was snoring softly. Poppy said she’d slept all day, but hadn’t been able to keep any food down. It appeared as though Lupin’s persistence had finally paid off, because he’d brought in a very large overstuffed chair and he was watching over her like a fretful nanny. He apologized to Snape for his behavior, to which he sneered nastily and promised to return the following morning. When he did, he found Madam Pomfrey looking particularly ruffled.

     “Here. Take this to her.” She shoved a tray containing a small teapot, a bowl of porridge, and a large glass of beet juice. Severus raised an eyebrow at her, but before he could protest, she snapped, “Make sure she drinks ALL of that. She can leave the porridge if she’s nauseous, but I won’t have her becoming dehydrated, and DON’T let her smoke, or I’ll have your head, Severus Snape!” She glowered ferociously at him, and he returned the look with one that would have made Neville Longbottom cower with fear. Poppy Pomfrey couldn’t have cared less. “If you see that damned Lupin, tell him that she’s not well enough for visitors, and if you’d be so kind as to brew more essence of dugbog liver for her. She’s down to one glass a day.  OH and if you see Hagrid, tell him that if he tries to sneak her any more sweets, I’ll…”

     “Go to bed, Poppy.” Snape cut her off, mildly amused. She frowned at him wearily, and walked away without argument.

     To his surprise, Freya was not only wide awake, but was sitting cross-legged on her coverlet, wearing a grey tank top, and striped pajama bottoms. A thin brown cigarette was dangling between her lips, and he couldn’t help but notice that the lips in question very full and bruised red. She was not alone. Lupin and Professor Mcgonagall of all people were with her, and there was a spread of playing cards between them.  He snorted. So much for “no visitors.” Even more surprisingly, Minerva was smoking a very large pipe, and the sweet smelling smoke had clouded the room. Apparently, he had caught them mid giggle, because they all stopped very suddenly and looked at him, Minerva coughing violently in surprise, and trying to hide her pipe from view. Lupin gave her a few sharp smacks on her back.

     “And who’s this one, eh?” Freya asked around her cigarette, jerking her head in his direction. Her scarlet hair had been brushed properly, and it fell somewhat roguishly over her eyes as she looked up at him. She had the barest hint of in Irish accent. He scowled darkly, not liking her insolent tone.

     “This is Professor Snape, dear. He’s the potions master, and the head of Slytherin house.” Mocgonagall replied dryly, not taking her eyes off of her cards.

      Freya glanced away from him, taking the cigarette out of her mouth and exhaling a thin stream of white smoke through pursed lips. He shuddered a bit at the sight. She looked him over very slowly, in such a way that he felt somewhat naked, and then raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re very uh…tall. “ Her lips curled in a tiny smirk, which he rewarded with his best glower, then stalked towards her and dropped the tray unceremoniously into her lap, splattering some of the porridge onto the playing cards in her hand. “Charming, too. “ She muttered darkly. Lupin stifled a chuckle, and Mcgonagall gave her a sly look.

     “Well, I suppose we should leave Freya to her breakfast. Come along, Lupin.” The usually stoic witch gave Freya a kind smile, and patted her shoulder. “We’ll visit as soon as we can.” 

     Lupin hesitated and looked at Severus uncertainly. “You are looking better Freya, but I’d really feel better if-“ She threw a pillow at him and it hit him in the face.

     “You look like shite. Think I want to look at that tired mug? Does nobody sleep in this castle?”

     Lupin grinned at her. “We’ll finish our game later, baby sister.” Then he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.

     “Ha! You’d better! You owe me five galleons between the two of you!” Freya winked at them, and Lupin gave her another nervous grin, which disappeared as soon as Severus glared at him.

     When they were alone, Snape pulled up the chair, which gave a nasty squeal against the stone floor. “Smoking is not permitted at Hogwarts. You’ll have to live without those while you’re here. Put that out immediately.” He said very deliberately, as if to warn her that she would not be there for very long. Freya snorted as she poured herself a mug of what he’d assumed to be tea, but turned out to be hot bone broth.

     “I detest smoking. That er…professor…plant woman brought it for me. Special blend she made herself.”

     “Professor Sprout.” He corrected sharply. He would not tolerate this insolent woman disrespecting his co-workers, even if he weren’t particularly close to them.

     “Yeah that’s the one. I like that witch. “  She took the considerably shortened end of her cigarette, looked it over, then tossed it to him. It burned his hand, which he ignored, sniffed it apprehensively, then snubbed it out on the bedside table with a grimace. “Tobacco, garlic stalk, and…some other stuff. I don’t remember.”

     “Cannabis oil.” He replied instantly.

     “Ah. That explains why I’m in such a good mood.” She smiled at him, then smiled wider when he only frowned. “Poppy hates it of course, as she should. If she only knew…” The smile faded. “It’s to help raise the toxicity of my blood, just in case they…” She hesitated, but he understood. Some fumes, when inhaled, could make one’s blood off-putting to certain creatures of the night. “It was kind of her to give it to me.”

     “You’re to drink all of that.” He gestured towards the juice on her tray.  She picked it up, and made a face.

     “Not one for conversation, are you? Ugh. I fucking hate beets.” She sighed, and then gulped the whole thing down as best she could, clearly trying not to gag. He watched her with mounting interest, watching the movements of her throat as she drank. Her wounds were completely gone, and he found himself wondering what else she’d be willing to swallow, then smirked, imagining the fury on Lupin’s face if he knew what he was imagining. Freya grimaced, then looked back at him. Her eyes were much clearer than they had been before, and he was startled by how icy blue they were. It was amazing what a full night of dreamless sleep could do. This woman was vastly different from the one who’d attacked him only a few nights ago. “I er…I…well. This is awkward but…are you the one who disarmed me?” She asked, as though reading his mind, giving him a strange look. He nodded curtly. “I honestly don’t remember much, but I am sorry. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

     He sneered at that. “As if you could.” That earned him a sharp glare, which he found strangely satisfying.

     “They didn’t tell me you were a wanker.” She replied smoothly. Anger coiled in his belly.

     “Watch your tongue, girl.”

     “Who’s watching yours, potions master?” Her tone was mocking. He glared at her furiously. No one spoke to him that way. Never. His lips curled in a sneer as he gave her his most penetrating stare, which she matched carelessly over the rim of her mug.

     “I don’t think you appreciate the situation you’re in, Miss Lupin.” He said in a very silky voice. She twitched very slightly, which pleased him.

     “Ahh, here we go. And why has Dumbledore sent his death eater to me?” She asked with a surprising amount of venom.  “Yeah I know who you are, Severus Snape. I’ve heard all about you.”

     He raised an eyebrow. Was that a challenge? “I’m to ask you a few questions. If I am satisfied, Dumbledore might let you stay.”

     She sighed, agitated. “On with the interrogation then. I’ve got nothing to hide from you, and it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

     “Where were you during the past two years?”

     “Belgium.”

     “Do NOT lie to me.” He snarled.

     “BELGIUM. Dumbledore sent me to Albania to sniff out those secret patrons of his, but it was a false lead, so I never went. I’ve already told him all this you know. He was here last night. Didn’t he tell you?”

     He ignored her question. He hadn’t known, but then again, Albus was very fond of his little games. “What happened in Belgium?”

     “There was to be some sort of…fetish ball. I’d been invited to attend. There were to be several persons of interest.” She faltered for a moment as Severus’ eyes widened ever so slightly.“I was recognized.” She admitted, actually blushing with embarrassment. He noticed that the blush traveled all the way to the tops of her breasts, and then he saw that her nipples had hardened through the fabric of her tank top. It was difficult for him not to imagine what kind of “fetish ball” she’d been describing, and an image of the young witch in a tight leather corset arose unbidden in his mind. He swallowed hard, but was determined not to let her see him falter.

      “By whom?”

     “Fenrir Greyback. I literally bumped into him at a marketplace in Bruges. He knew my scent from the night he attacked my brother. I’d been avoiding him of course, but I never really thought he’d know me after so long. Bloody mutt.” She added with vehemence. That explained why she’d flung Lupin across the room. In her feverish state, she must have mistaken her brother for Greyback. “When my benefactor heard my true name, he sold me to the nest of vampires he was trying to win to Voldemort’s side. I don’t know what he got in return, so don’t bother asking.”

     “His throat slit, hopefully.” He said without thinking, in a way that sounded suspiciously like anger on her behalf. This interrogation was not going as well as he’d expected. The ghost of a smile danced around her lips, and once again he wondered what they would taste like.

     “Their leader was a nasty character named Lucas Frend. You’ve heard of him, yeah?” 

     He didn’t answer, but he had indeed. Lucas Frend was one of the Ministry’s most wanted criminals. “I see. Who was your benefactor?”

She gave him an odd look. “Oh I see. This is some sort of good cop, bad cop thing, right? You’re cross-examining me to see if I’ve got my story straight? Is that it?”

     “Answer the question.”

     “Barty Crouch Jr.” She replied softly.

     “Barty Crouch Jr. was given the dementor’s kiss.”

     “That’s a lie.” She was confident, but he heard the trepidation in her voice.

     “I assisted in his capture myself.”

     “And you watched it happen? You saw the kiss?” Freya asked indignantly. Snape’s eyes narrowed. He had not, and she knew it. “Crouch has been missing from the Azkaban ledgers for nearly three years. He’s using an alias, although I’m sure he’s changed it by now. I don’t know if he persuaded them to let him go, or if they simply decided to. The ministry thinks they can control Dementors. They can’t, and they’ve been covering up Crouch’s disappearance ever since.”

     Snape made a mental note of this. If she were trying to convince him that she wasn’t a deatheater spy, criticizing the government would not exactly help her. “How long were you in captivity, Miss Lupin?” 

     “I’m done talking to you, deatheater.” She spat. He’d touched a nerve.

     “A year? More, perhaps?”

     She didn’t answer. She just stared at him coldly.

     “If you don’t cooperate with me, I will be forced to use certain methods that I’m sure you won’t like.” He said darkly, his voice low and slippery as a serpent.

     “I don’t respond well to threats. Sorry about taking your job, by the way. Did you cry yourself to sleep when they told you?” Her face was flushed with anger.

      In a flash of movement, he knocked the tray out of her lap, and pressed his wand beneath her chin, forcing her face to tilt up at him. Her lids were heavy, and she raised an eyebrow at him, daring him. He noticed her breathing had become heavy, and he felt his cock stiffen painfully in his trousers. Suddenly he felt an insane urge to bite her swollen lips, then to grab that red hair in his fists and slide himself deep into her hot wet throat. He wondered how hard she would gag on his girth, and the thought of her wriggling beneath him soon had his heartbeat quickening. It would feel so good. Her eyes widened slightly, but she was not afraid. “Is this…threatening enough for you?” His voice sounded huskier than he’d anticipated.

     “Is this?” She asked slyly, and he felt a sharp prick in his side. Somehow, without him seeing, Freya had produced her wand and was pressing its tip meaningfully into his ribs. Very slowly, he withdrew his own wand, and she did the same.  

     “In three days, this school will be filled with students. They are all under the protection of Albus Dumbledore and myself. If you are here for any dark purpose, I will find out, and believe me you’ll wish you’d stayed in Belgium, or wherever you were. Rest assured, that if I catch you stepping out of line, I will personally see to your…punishment.” His voice had become very husky. She blinked at him in surprise, and he silently cursed to himself. Scowling even more ferociously, he stormed out of her room, and went to his chambers. 



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