Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Spy vs. Spy	By : Sakuracelt Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 15750 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
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.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
            Several days later, on Christmas morning as it so happened, Severus awoke to find that Freya had sent him a present. A strange sort of dread clenched in his abdomen as he stared down at the large cast iron cauldron sitting squatty at the foot of his bed like a great, black pumpkin, doubtlessly placed there by house elves while he had been sleeping. It was a handsome, sturdy thing, and it came with a hand written note.
            “Dear Severus, I hope you don’t mind. I noticed that your cauldron has seen better days. Also I saw that you were running low on a few things, so I took the liberty of procuring them. Hopefully I’ve remembered the right ones. Also, you’ll find that your private potion cupboard has been replenished, and organized to the best of my abilities. Honestly, your system makes NO bloody sense! The witch’s blood is my own. I hope it will suffice.”
            Frowning, he peered inside the cauldron and found several immaculate crystal vials of various sizes, as well as a generous bundle of valerian sprigs. Armadillo bile, bat spleens, porcupine quills, starthistle, dehydrated mandrake root, cochineal beetles, and indeed, a tiny vial of witch’s blood. He scowled darkly at the gift. Although she had made no mention of the holiday, it had not even occurred to him that she might give him a Christmas present. Most of the other professors did not bother, knowing his disdain for the holiday, apart from Albus who always insisted on giving him the most outrageously patterned socks, almost certainly for his own private amusement. This gift, however was so perfectly practical, that it made him scowl. He hadn’t gotten her anything. Severus Snape never gave Christmas presents.
He wasn’t even sure how to describe their relationship, let alone what kind of gift to give her. Witches liked jewelry, didn’t they? Snape had no idea where to even begin where that was concerned, and he’d be damned before he’d ask any of his female colleagues for advice. Besides, wouldn’t jewelry seem a bit forward? Books, then? Surely Freya enjoyed books. He’d seen plenty in her chambers, but had failed to notice any prevalent genre that might give him a clue as to what kind she would like. He pondered this as he got dressed and made his way to the great hall for breakfast. There were several enormous Christmas trees flanking the tables, and brilliantly gold streamers glistened as the enchanted ceiling began to snow. Most of the students were gone, with the exception of the usual stragglers who were happily comparing this year’s hoard. Freya was seated on the dais, and she was scowling down at a black velvet box. When he sat next to her, he understood why. The box was from Lucius Malfoy.
“Wait.” Severus said curtly when she finally went to open it. Drawing his wand, he muttered several charms under his breath, but sensed no malevolent curses. “It’s safe.” He finally said. Freya grimaced as though she were about to touch something slimy, and lifted the lid.
“Oh dear.” She said. Inside was an immaculate, shimmering necklace set with diamonds and moonstones. It was very elaborate, and very beautiful, and Snape felt a sting of jealous inadequacy but Freya glared at it and hissed, “What the hell does he mean, sending me this?”
            “He’s almost certainly gloating.” He sneered. “This has ‘passive aggressive’ written all over it. He’s furious that you’re still alive, but is eager to remain in your good graces, and at the same time he’s showing off his wealth to annoy me.” Snape watched as her lips twisted into a very wicked smirk.
            “You know, diamonds really aren’t my thing. This would look absolutely divine on Mrs. Weasley, though. Don’t you agree, Severus?”
            He snorted with laughter, and Freya gave him a positively radiant smile, which he returned in earnest, before noticing that some of the students were staring at him in utter shock. Rolling his eyes at them, he leaned in closer to her and said. “Send it to Arthur instead, and explain that it was bought with Lucius Malfoy’s galleons. I’m sure he’d be more than happy to present it to his wife.”
            “That is so thoughtful, and so wicked.”
            “Well, if you haven’t noticed, I am the head of Slytherin house.” He hesitated, and was about to thank her quietly for the cauldron and potion ingredients, when suddenly Hermione Granger approached the table. Snape’s face twisted into a scowl, as it so often did when any of the golden trio was near. The young witch met his glare only briefly, before her gaze dropped to the floor. “Yes, Granger?” He sneered, but Hermione looked up at Freya and dropped a long thin parcel in front of her. Her eyes widened in surprise.
            “That’s from Neville Longbottom, Miss. He wanted to give it to you before he went home for the Holiday, but…” and here she gave Snape a short, but very pointed look “I think he was too nervous, so I offered.” Freya hesitated, but curiosity won out, and she opened it. It was a long roll of canvas, and when she unraveled it, her mouth fell open in shock. Inside was a set of skinny mahogany paintbrushes, of various shapes and sizes. Severus cursed inwardly. Damn it, why hadn’t he thought of that?
            “Oh my…I…I don’t know if I can accept…” She began, but Hermione interrupted her, causing Snape to glare even more sharply at her.
            “OH no Miss please don’t give them back. It would humiliate him.” Good, Snape thought. Freya smiled kindly.
            “I will be sure to thank him when he returns. If he writes…tell him I adore them.”
            Severus sneered in disgust as Hermione returned to her friends, feeling oddly jealous. Had he really just been beaten by Neville Longbottom? Clearly the boy had developed some sort of ridiculous crush on his Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. He’d have to sort that out later. What could he possibly give her that she would like, and that only he could…He felt a prickling in his skin, and knew that she was looking at him. These days, he found that he could always feel her eyes, no matter how discrete she thought she was. A wicked smirk danced around his lips, but he quickly took a sip of tea to conceal it.
            When breakfast had ended, Severus politely excused himself, giving Freya a carefully casual nod before sweeping into the corridor. He waited there for a few minutes, then cast a disillusionment charm over himself. When Freya finally left the Great hall, he followed her as quietly as he could. To his surprise, she did not head for her quarters as he had expected, but instead went to her office. He watched as she began rifling through drawers and shuffling through a stack of papers. To his great annoyance, she was not alone for long. Harry Potter knocked ever so gently on the open door, and only entered when she gave him a swift nod. Severus glared at “the chosen one” with absolute loathing.
            “Harry!” Freya smiled at him. “What can I do for you?” The boy fidgeted for a moment, then stared up at his teacher with a sort of belligerent confidence that set Snape’s teeth on edge.
            “I wanted to tell you something.” He said. She looked at him carefully before answering.
            “Fair enough.” She replied, continuing to rummage through her desk.
            “I just…” The boy who lived hesitated. “I wanted to warn you.”
            “Oh?” She replied, lifting her eyebrow in a way that would have made Mcgonagall proud.
            “It’s about what happened the Christmas party, Miss Lupin.”
            Severus could have sworn that the temperature of the room dropped several degrees as Freya stopped shuffling through her papers, and fixed Potter with a cold, calculating stare. He blushed. “I see.”
            “I thought you should know that…well, Snape’s a deatheater! I mean, I know Dumbledore thinks he’s on our side, but I know he’s loyal to Voldemort!” He blurted out. Snape actually had to make an effort not to snort with the utmost derision. Freya’s frosty smile did not reach her eyes.
            “And?”
            “Well I thought that maybe…maybe they didn’t tell you and that’s why…”
            “You think I’m ignorant do you?” Her voice was chillier than he’d ever heard it. Snape’s scowl melted into a smirk. Harry looked completely taken aback.
            “What? No no that’s not what I meant!”
            “What do you mean then, Potter?”
            “I just meant…Miss Lupin, he’s dangerous.”
            “As am I, Mr. Potter.” Freya’s voice was so low that Severus had to inch closer to hear. “I take it you’ve been writing to my brother.” Harry had the decency to look slightly abashed. “If that is the case, I will give you the same answer I’ve given him. ‘What happens between me and Professor Snape is none of your concern.’ I understand that you mean well, but believe me, you do not have my gratitude.” Potter’s mouth fell open rather stupidly at this sentiment. “Allow me to give you some advice, boy.” The words dripped from her mouth like a slow poison, and Harry’s face turned an angry scarlet. Snape’s smirk became a satisfied grin. “You will meet many women before you die. Every single one of them will have a private life that doesn’t revolve around you. I don’t care how much you sacrifice. I don’t care how much you bend over backwards. None of them will owe you a damned thing. I am not Miss Granger. I am not Miss Weasley. I am nearly ten years your elder, and the next time you presume to ‘tell me’ anything concerning my affairs, the consequences will be greater than a bat bogey hex. Understand, Mr. Potter?” He nodded slowly, and Severus could tell by his expression that this was not even close to the reaction he’d expected from his teacher. “We’re done here. Get out of my office, Potter.” Harry’s face was beet purple as he left, slamming the door behind him like the petulant teenager he was. Freya returned to her desk, muttering darkly. “’Boy who lived’ my arse. More like ‘boy who lives to annoy me.’” Severus chose this moment to reveal himself.
“And here I’d thought you were a fan of our Mr. Potter.” He said, making her jump. Her wand was out in a flash, and he suddenly found himself dodging a very nasty bolt of lightning, which crackled against the stone floor where he’d stood only a moment before. He snickered, and sat in one of the student desks, propping his boots up and giving her a very rakish grin. A normal wizard might have found this sudden act of violence alarming, but he found it enticing, and rather funny.
            “I’d like him more if he’d stop sticking his nose where it’s not wanted.” She answered after taking a moment to calm herself. Her cheeks were flushed, and her chest heaved with adrenaline. There was fire in her icy blue eyes. “You’re a right bastard, sneakin’ up on me like that.” Her accent was a touch thicker than usual. He watched appreciatively as she briefly lifted her skirt, and hitched her wand back into the holster she had strapped to her thigh.
            “You know, Miss Lupin…I find myself enjoying you more every day.” He drawled. Freya winced, and jerked her head slightly, her disposition immediately changing from vicious to professional. It amused him.
            “How may I help you, Severus?” She asked tartly, turning back to her desk and making a show of organizing the papers. His eyes raked over her body, shamelessly drinking in the charcoal grey pencil skirt and black sleeveless top that wrapped around her curves. The stockings she wore were nude, but had black seams that ran all the way up the backs of her thighs. The skirt had a tiny bow on the belt buckle, like a present. It was Christmas, after all. Lips twitching, he replied,
            “Do I need I reason to see you?” She lifted an eyebrow at him, but only shrugged. “I wanted to thank you for the cauldron, and the ingredients. They are…appreciated.” He said carefully. Snape was not well known for his gratitude. Her lips quirked into a strange sort of smile.
            “You’ve saved my life twice now. Think nothing of it.” Her mannerism was colder than he liked, and he scowled, taking his feet off the desk. Snape had not forgotten their last sexual encounter. He remembered the warmth, and the longing in her voice as she’d ridden him, asking him to penetrate her mind as well as her body. That had not been just a throwaway fuck. That had been the closest thing he’d ever experienced to making love, and here she was acting like they were nothing more than indifferent coworkers. It stung, although he’d never have admitted it. Somehow he’d thought things would be different between them now. Apparently, he’d been wrong. Cool anger seeped through his veins, and he fingered his wand, which was concealed up his sleeve. If that was how she was going treat him, then so be it.
            “Is that how you thank your master?” She stiffened noticeably, fighting to hide the conflicting emotions that crossed her face, but Severus saw. Anger, confusion, and desire. There was a darkness in Freya, and he knew exactly how to draw it out. “Come here, witch.” She glared at him defiantly, and he rolled his eyes, flicking his wand toward her. “Accio, collar.” She gasped sharply as the collar around her neck drew her roughly to him, choking her a bit. He caught her around the waist, and pulled her into his lap with a lecherous grin. She smacked him across the face and he grabbed her wrists, growling darkly. “You ungrateful bitch.” Her eyes narrowed, and she tried to pull away, but stopped when he held on tighter, and placed her hand meaningfully on the growing tent in his trousers. Her expression softened, and he watched through hooded eyes as she bit her lip, and squeezed him gently through the fabric. He fought back a shiver of pleasure, and reached up to grasp her chin, forcing her to look at him. There was lust in her eyes, dark and deadly. “And there it is. I think I finally understand you.” He sneered. “You’re content to toy with me, to parade me in front of your artsy friends, make me think that there’s more to it than this…” She gaped at him, and when her lips parted, he forced two fingers cruelly into her mouth. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she began to suck the digits, writhing into his lap when she felt his cock growing so hard against her palm.
“You think you can just use me? You think you can push me away, you little harlot? You can’t, and I’ll tell you why.” He drew the fingers from her mouth and reached up her skirt, feeling the warm flesh of her thigh. “You need my cock.” Freya stared at him, and there was pain and indignation in her eyes now as well as desire. She looked as though she wanted to say something but he stopped her. “Don’t speak. I’m sick of your games. I’m tired of walking around this castle with your taste on my lips, while you avoid me. I am not your plaything.” He dipped his hand lower, slipping past her panties until he found the dampness between her thighs. “I’m going to fuck every tight hole in your body. I am going to use you, witch. You are my whore now. You will cum, but only when I allow it. ” A shiver ran through her entire body, and he wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. There was a glazed, almost drunken look in her eyes. She was trying to resist, but he was drawing her in with his touch, and his low silky voice. “Is this what you like, Freya?” His nimble fingers stroked her ever so gently, and he marveled at the moistness of the velvety flesh. She moaned softly, and her body grew so relaxed she almost fell from his lap, so he tightened his grip on her waist to keep her upright. “Do you want this?” He slid one digit inside of her. It was so easy. Freya bit her lower lip and nodded.
            Gripping the back of her head, he drew her down to kiss her, and she clutched desperately at his chest, shuddering sweetly when he slipped a second finger inside of her and began roughly pumping in and out, his thumb lightly stroking her clit in tiny circles. She squirmed in his lap, making him even harder, but he held her firmly, teasing her until he felt the first tremors of orgasm. With a nasty grin he stopped, and bit her lip sharply when she tried to protest. Smirking against her lips, he grabbed her ass with both hands, and lifted her up. Their tongues battled feverishly as he carried her swiftly to the desk and perched her on top of it, sending papers and quills fluttering to the floor with one great sweep of his arm. Her soft mewls of pleasure pooled over him like warm honey as her fingers sank into his thick dark hair. He roughly tore the blouse from her body, revealing a scarlet bra edged with black lace. When he began savagely kissing and biting the tops of her breasts, her moans became desperately heated.
            “Fuck me.” She pleaded, breaking the kiss for only a moment before pressing her lips to his again. He gritted his teeth, and growled,
            “Was that an order, witch?”
            She whimpered softly, and slid her hand down his chest to the aching erection that strained against his trousers. When he felt her struggling to unbutton his fly, he grabbed her wrist to stop her. “Please, Severus…I want you.”
            “You don’t make demands.” He murmured into her ear, enjoying the way she trembled when his lips caressed her skin. “I don’t tolerate such insolence from my students, and I won’t tolerate it from you, whore.” He stepped back from her, and sneered as her eyes widened. “Look at you…lips swollen, your hair a mess…” She bit her lip, her eyes hooded, but she faltered beneath his hawk like gaze.
            “Severus…please…”Her voice was so soft and sweet that he almost caved, but the game was just too good.
            “You will call me ‘professor.’ It’s only appropriate.” He intoned darkly. “Your appearance is unacceptable.” Reaching out to her, he slid his fingers through her hair, and made a cruel fist, causing her to hiss in pain. “Bend over, you little slut.” He growled, only releasing his hold on her when she obeyed. She propped herself up onto her hands, and fixed him with a pleading look over her shoulder, but he grabbed the back of her neck, and pushed her downward so that her cheek pressed against the desk. She moaned, and wriggled desperately. “Lift your skirt. Slowly.” When she did, his exhale became a low hiss at the sight of her pert, heart shaped bottom He stroked her with his fingers, teasing her slit through the silky fabric of her red panties. “I’m going to punish you, witch. I’m going to spank you, and you’re going to do as I say. If I’m pleased, then you will be rewarded. Do you understand?”
            “Yes.” Her breath hitched with anticipation.
            SMACK. He brought his hand down sharply, and her ass jiggled beneath his palm. She gasped in pain. “’Yes, ‘professor.’ Try it again.”
            “Yes professor.” She murmured.
            “Good girl. I’m going to smack this tight little ass, and you’re going to count the blows out loud for me.” He spanked her again, harder than the first time. The sting was sharp, and her tiny whimper of pain was muffled against the desk. “Let’s try that again.” SMACK. Her knees wobbled slightly, and he grunted and bit his lip as the sight of her quivering flesh made his cock throb painfully. Her pale skin was already beginning to turn pink.
            “One.” She gasped.
            SMACK. He could see a dark patch of wetness staining her panties. His fingers probed her gently through the fabric and she squirmed, desperate for further stimulation, which he did not provide.
            “Two.”
            He spanked her again, this time aiming the blow at the back of her thighs, and she gave a sharp little cry that could have been pain or ecstasy.
            “Three.”
            Sneering wickedly, he slapped her ass again, and again while she counted dutifully. Freya’s fingers were curled around the edge of the desk, holding on for dear life as he punished her, her hips twitching with every strike while her knees trembled. Her breathing was heavy, but it caught in her throat when he dipped his fingers between her thighs once more to tease her. “Your cunt is so wet, you little whore. Your panties are soaked through..” SMACK. “It’s going to feel so good stretched around my cock.” SMACK. “Would you like that?” SMACK. “Do you want your master to fuck you?”
            “Please…” Her voice cracked desperately.
            SMACK. The sting was savage, but she moaned softly. Her ass was bright red, and it quivered when he stroked it, the sensation heightened deliciously as the flesh grew more sensitive. “Mmm…” He sighed, admiring her shamelessly. He slipped two fingers beneath the waistband of her panties, and twisted it so that the fabric tightened, thong like, then he spanked her again, raining several sharp blows on her quivering backside. He couldn’t resist bending down to bite the soft flesh, loving the way she squealed at the pain. His lips and tongue soothed the hurt, and he chuckled cruelly. “You haven’t been counting.”
            “I’m…I’m sorry professor.”
            Snape hesitated, then slowly slid the panties down her legs, unable to prevent a low groan of desire from escaping his lips. “Look at that sweet, pink pussy.” He mused to himself as he curled his fingers between her folds experimentally. “So fucking wet.” He sighed. He stroked her clit ever so gently to test her, and felt how swollen it was. She cried out in pleasure from the slight touch, and he knew that if he wanted to, he could bring her to completion in a matter of moments.
            “Please…please fuck me, professor.”
            He spanked her ass one final time, then gently admonished her. “I know how badly you want this cock.” Positioning himself behind her, he pressed the solid buldge in his trousers firmly against her, and chuckled when she wriggled desperately against him, soaking the fabric. “If you please me, I’ll give it to you. I’ll fuck you so hard, you’ll be screaming my name, witch.” He caressed her bottom gently, smirking at the way she whimpered. Unable to help himself, he grabbed her swollen cheeks with both hands, and lowered his mouth to sweep his tongue indulgently up her moist quim in one swift stroke. Moaning heavily, he sucked lazily at her wet folds for a moment, then spanked her again with a loud crack that echoed off the walls. Her hips buckled convulsively, and she mewed softly with such torment, it took every ounce of self control not to take her, there and then.
“Stand up, girl.” When she turned to face him, he saw how flushed and tear stained her cheeks were. Her lips were red and swollen, and her eyes glazed and heavy with desire. “Take off my belt.” He ordered firmly. She fumbled with the clasp, and he leaned in to kiss her, swiping her bottom lip teasingly with his tongue, giving her a brief taste of her own desire, but pulling away before she could kiss him back. When she handed him his belt, he looked at it thoughtfully before saying, “Lie down on the desk. Face down. Arse up.” The look of surprise that crossed her features made him chuckle, but she gingerly did as he commanded. Roughly hoisting her skirt back up around her waist, he slid her bodily onto the wooden surface and growled. “Reach back, and grab your heels.” When she hesitated, he added, “Unless you want to feel this belt on your pretty arse, you’ll do as I say.” She reached back obediently, and whimpered when she felt him loop the belt around her wrists and ankles, effectively locking her into position. Severus grinned. She looked so vulnerable like this.
            He encircled her slowly, drinking in the sight of her, bound and helpless and dripping with need, until he was positioned in front of her. Hot breath caressed the front of his trousers, and he amused himself for a moment by running his fingers through her hair, watching it cascade through his fingers as he deftly unbuttoned his fly, and drew his quivering erection so that it was centimeters from her face. Smirking down at her, he said. “Look up at me, witch. I want to watch you.” When she did, he moaned softly at the lust in her pale blue eyes. “Open your mouth.” He whispered, pressing against her soft lips until they parted for him. “Use your tongue.” She moaned, and happily complied, swirling it sinfully around the head of his member and flicking it over the slit, making him gasp at the tiny penetration. His breath made a low hiss between his teeth as he drew it in deeply, watching her lick him with slow, deliberate strokes. “Sweet Merlin, you’re good at that. Now suck. Just the tip for now.” Her mouth made tiny wet sounds, so hot and moist around the sensitive flesh. When she continued to swirl her tongue while sucking ever so gently, his knees nearly buckled beneath him. The light slurping noises mingled with her delicate mews of pleasure were driving him mad. “Harder.” He ordered. She obeyed, hollowing her cheeks to provide firm suction. The veins that ran along his thick shaft popped out as she dragged him into her mouth using only the pressure of her lips, her tongue probing and exploring every ridge and crevice of the swollen, mushroom shaped head. He shivered, his mouth slack with pleasure.
Growling, he sank his fingers into her hair. “Relax your throat, witch. I want to fuck your mouth before I fuck your pussy.” She moaned at these words, and the sound made his skin tingle. Moving with excruciating slowness, he eased himself deeper, inch by inch into her mouth, her whimpers muffled by his girth. He hissed in ecstasy as he watched himself disappear into her throat, her lips stretched by his thickness. The sight was impossibly erotic, and when she moaned, it sent heavenly vibrations up and down his shaft. Staring down at her, his lips curled into a luscious sneer. “Let’s see how much you can take.” He whispered as he smoothed a rogue lock of hair from her forehead, and placed his hand on the back of her head. The tip of his cock hit the back of her throat, and he felt her gag just a little, causing her body to undulate slightly. He couldn’t resist leaning over her, and giving her pert bottom a sharp smack. She whimpered, jumping slightly, then gagged again. His hips gave a small, convulsive thrust into her mouth before he withdrew, her lips making a loud, wet popping noise as he did. Freya gasped, and panted, but sucked eagerly on the swollen purple head when he brought it closer.“Mmmm…such a good little whore.”
“Please, professor.” She said. Her voice was soft, and pleading.
“What do you want?” He asked sharply.
“Please let me swallow you.”
The shiver of lust that this request caused was so powerful he closed his eyes for a moment, but they snapped open when he felt her warm velvety tongue tease the underside of his shaft. “Open…open your fucking mouth.” He hissed, filling her with his girth when she complied. She moaned heavily when he began pumping her throat, watching her cheeks swell with his movements. Reaching down, he pulled the cups of her bra down, and grabbed her breasts, feeling their weight in his hands and pinching the nipples sharply as he slid his cock in and out of her mouth with deliciously wet sounds. Her throat was so warm and tight, and her tongue tickled him with every penetration. “Take it all…that’s it, let me fuck your mouth…mmm…” His words made her squirm and she moaned softly around his flesh. She clearly loved it when he talked dirty. “You’re such a good little cocksucker.” He hissed, and reached over her to swat her backside with a loud crack. Her body twitched sharply and she whimpered. The motion caused his dick to slide even further down her throat, and she choked just a bit.
Grinning wickedly, he kept one hand on the back of her head while smoothing the other out across her back, until he reached her bare bottom. The position he had tied her in made it impossible for her to do much more than whimper desperately around his tool. His fingers spread her cheeks deftly, and dipped between them, feeling her slickness before idly stroking her perineum while a low growl rumbled in his chest. Apparently eager to encourage these administrations, Freta arched her back, straining against her bonds to suck him hard, bobbing her head voraciously up and down his shaft, but never quite able to release him fully. In a surge of boldness, he trailed his fingers lazily over the tightly puckered hole, and felt her pause. “You’re trembling, witch.” He murmured softly. “Do you like this? Would you like me to fuck you in the ass?” She whimpered around his shaft, and he pulled out of her mouth, just a bit, at the same time tapping her opening thoughtfully.
A sweat broke out on his brow as he placed his hands on either side of her face. “I’m going to try to slide it in all the way. Is that alright?” He asked gently. She nodded slightly, his cock still filling her mouth. With a soft grunt, he pushed deeper, moving slowly and carefully. She wriggled slightly, and he paused, allowing her to adjust before sliding in to the hilt. He gasped, and looked down in amazement, but the sight of his cock swallowed so completely was too much, and he felt his balls begin to tighten. He quickly pulled out of her mouth, and stared at her as the approaching orgasm ebbed away. Freya was panting heavily, and she coughed a bit, but she gave him a tiny, victorious smirk. “You’re…” Snape breathed, but allowed the word ‘incredible’ to hover on his lips.
“Please, professor. I need you inside me.” Her voice was low and husky with desire. His control wavered, and then broke completely under the weight of his lust. In three large strides, he was behind her, and without hesitation, plunged his manhood greedily inside of her, squeezing his eyes shut as her hot, wet sleeve stretched to accommodate him. His fingers bit into warm flesh as he pounded her with intense ferocity, lips pulling back from his teeth in a sneer. Her ass was still raw and pink from his punishment, and he loved the way it quivered as his hips made hard, cruel contact with her moist skin. Sneering lustily, he sucked one of his fingers into his mouth, getting it nice and wet before he probed her tight, forbidden hole. Freya’s voice was raised several octaves, gasping and moaning out in elation. “Fuck…fuck yes. Oh god, professor you feel so good.” She cried as he slid the wet digit slowly into her anus, loving the way she hissed in pleasure as he began to slowly pump in and out as his cock filled her cunt completely. She was struggling to arch her back, desperate for further penetration, but her bonds held tight, keeping her exactly when he wanted her.
The desk shuddered and quaked with every hard thrust. Snape was brutal as he drilled her wet pussy, the veins in his forearms standing out in stark relief. “You’re…MINE, witch.” He grunted through gritted teeth. “Mine…mine…mine…” Every word was punctuated with merciless stab of his cock. Freya gasped and he felt her body begin to stiffen. Her hands, still bound by his belt, clenched into tight fists, and he knew she was close. “I want you to come for me.” He snarled. “Come for me, witch.” She screamed, and it was music to his ears. The walls of her cunt shivered and squeezed so hard it nearly pushed him out, but he fucked her through it, and smacked her ass once more for good measure, making her twitch, and writhe helplessly beneath him.
He pulled out of her suddenly and she moaned piteously until she felt him press the tip of his cock against her ass, probing her anus. She whimpered pathetically, but did not protest. Smirking cruelly, he sucked two of his fingers into his mouth, then used them to lubricate the puckered opening. “I did say ‘every hole,’ witch.” With a low hiss, he spread her cheeks wide with both hands, and watched as the head of his dick pushed inside of her. For a moment he was not sure she’d accept him, she was so tight. “You’ve never been fucked in the ass, have you?” He sneered. She was gasping, and there was definitely pleasure in her voice, but she did not answer. It felt so good, and he groaned huskily as he pressed deeper. “Tell me if you want me to stop.” He whispered, but she only squirmed a bit, encouraging him to explore her. Snape actually trembled, not sure how long he’d last, knowing that he was the first to penetrate her this way. This was not a sensation that he was used to. Her virgin asshole gripped him like a warm vice, and he felt his balls begin to tighten against his will. “I…I think I might be too big…” He choked as she actually wriggled beneath him, impaling herself on his shaft. “So good….so fucking tight.” He breathed, his eyes rolling back into his head. “I’m…ohhh fuck....” His voice broke, and his orgasm broke through like a roaring fire, breaking over him in a wave of pleasure, his semen pumping into her in hot, white spurts. And then, relief followed. Blood rushed so quickly to his head that he was momentarily dizzy.
Panting heavily, Severus drew his wand and scourgified them both before he gingerly placed himself back in his trousers, and removed the belt from Freya’s wrists and ankles. She slumped over for a moment, resting her forehead on the desk with gritted teeth. When she tried to stand, her legs collapsed beneath her, but he caught her, and gently lowered her to the floor. He frowned down at her, and sat next to her, warily.
“I’m sorry, witch. Did I hurt you?” He asked softly. She gave him an oddly bitter smile.
“Yes, but…that was the point, wasn’t it?” She whispered. Hot shame burned his cheeks at these words. She had hurt him first, with her coldness, but he had retaliated with cruel words, and as much as she’d enjoyed it, he’d used her body like a sex toy and they both knew it. “My name is Freya, by the way.”
“I know that.” His eyes widened in surprise. He had hoped to give her a good Christmas fuck, although he supposed he had been rather selfish in the delivery.
“We have a problem, I think.” She said so softly he almost didn’t hear. This sentiment gave him an incredibly ominous feeling of dread.
“Do we?”
“You’ve been a very welcome distraction, Severus but I think…” Freya bit her lip, then looked at him mournfully. “I think it’s best if we stop seeing each other for a while.”
Her words were a kick to the chest. He stared at her in disbelief. “I am not a gentle man, Freya. I thought you knew that. If it’s tenderness you need…”
“You don’t know what I need.” She said softly. It was a statement devoid of emotion, which made the truth of it sting all the worse.
“I would if you’d tell me!” He snapped in angry disbelief.
She struggled to her feet, wincing sharply at the pain, but glared coldly in the face of his fury. Without a word, she walked behind her desk and pulled out a rolled up copy of The Daily Prophet. Sneering, she threw it him, and when he unfurled it, his stomach lurched with sickening dread. He stood, slowly, his eyes glued to the paper. There, on the front cover, were four pictures. One was a witch, who looked vaguely familiar, but he recognized one of the wizards instantly. It was Sean, the handsome bartender who had given them their drinks for free, that night at The Locke. The headline read “Slaughter in Underground Club.” His stomach flipped, and he felt as though he might be sick. All four of them had been found dead in the alley behind the elusive nightclub. He skimmed the article, which had been written with a disgusting lack of empathy. After all, the victims were outcasts, tattooed ruffians and sexual deviants, not parents or other wholesome types whose deaths would have caused uproar. There were several buzzwords, such as “sex dungeon,” and “miscreants” used inaccurately in an attempt to drum up the scandal, and the writer had made it seem as though the victims had brought it upon themselves with their lifestyle. He searched for their names, and breathed a sigh of relief when he did not see them.
“There’s no mention of us.” He said, without thinking.
Stars burst behind his eyes. Hard bone made vicious contact with his left temple, and he heard it crack ominously. His head spun, and suddenly he was gaping up at the ceiling instead of her. Freya had struck him, not a sharp smack, but a hard-hitting punch that sent him sprawling back to the floor. Merlin, she was stronger than she looked. Her face was alight with fury, and it shook him. He found himself pointing his wand up at her, though his other hand was stretched out in a gesture of supplication. She stared down at him, her red hair wild around her pale face, the delicate tattoos on her knuckles standing out darkly on her clenched fists. For a moment she looked for all the world like some vengeful Norse deity.
“And that’s all that matters, isn’t it?” She said softly, lips curled back in disgust. “Sean was my friend. We were supposed to look out for one another, and I FAILED HIM.” The words tore from her throat, and the tears began to flow in a steady stream, but her gaze was steady. Her fingers were twitching, and he knew she was thinking very hard about hexing his balls off. Instead she turned away, and he very cautiously rose to his feet. When she whirled on him again, he made a show of slowly placing his wand back in his sleeve, and raising his palms to her to show her he was unarmed.
“Please…don’t do anything rash, Freya.” He gently admonished. She stared at him as though he was insane, then sputtered a few short barks of laughter.
“It’s too late for that, professor.” She uttered the word as if it were a curse. “I’m falling for you, you bastard. I got so tangled up in you that I literally drank poison. I completely lost my head. Some spy I turned out to be.” She spat accusingly. “And now Sean is dead because of me.” Freya’s lower lip trembled. “I thought you were different somehow, but you use sex as a weapon, just like he did.”
“Freya…I…I didn’t know.” He sputtered. The words were so heavy on his ears. She had feelings for him. And she hated herself for it. He should have been elated by her confession, but he felt only shame. “I care about you. Please believe me.” He whispered, desperately, knowing full well that his words were very different from his actions. He could have asked her out, like a normal wizard. He could have spent time getting to know her, and then he would have seen her distress that was now so clear to him. Instead he’d snuck up on her, knowing she still suffered from post-traumatic stress, laughed at her jumpiness and then he’d seduced her in a way that was anything but loving. She cocked her head at him, and not for the first time, he saw madness glinting in her eyes.
“Get out.” She whispered. “I’m sick of deatheaters. You can all bloody hang.”
“Please…don’t do this.” He found himself begging, and suddenly he was a teenager again, standing outside the Gryffindor common room, threatening to sleep there unless his schoolboy crush came out and spoke with him.
Severus wanted to stop her as she swept past him, wanted to crush her to his chest, wanted to say all the right things that would ease her pain and earn her forgiveness, but he did not. He simply watched stupidly as she walked from her own office, away from him, not even bothering to look back

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

Inevitably, Severus found himself slinking before the portrait of Gallahad that guarded the entrance to her chambers, thinking that this was becoming something of a routine.
“I need to speak with her.” He muttered to the painting.
“She’s not in there. Poor thing. Out of her mind with grief, I think.” The knight said in a mean, indifferent voice while rolling his eyes. Snape scowled nastily, but the portrait just yawned.
“Where is she?” He asked so darkly that the knight looked startled and seemed to reconsider his attitude.
“Um…classroom…I believe.” He stuttered. Gritting his teeth, he swirled through the corridor, heading straight for the Defense Against the Dark Arts room. Damn it all. Freya had been upset by the news of her friend’s death, and how had he comforted her? He hadn’t known. He hadn’t seen the signs. She was falling in love with him, and he’d treated her like his own personal whore, when she needed kindness. Damn it. When he reached the door, there was a handful of students standing outside, eyeing it suspiciously. Hermione Granger was wringing her hands worriedly.
“She won’t come out, Professor. We just wanted to see if Miss Lupin was all right. We heard noises…”There was a crash followed by a loud sob, and with a low growl, he whipped his wand out and pointed it at the door.
“Alohamora.” He snarled. Nothing happened. There was another crash, and a scream of agony.
“STEP ASIDE.” A furious voice behind him made him pause, and he stared wildly behind him, right into the ferocious glower of Remus Lupin. Mcgonagall was right behind him, her face ashen with worry. A large black hound padded noiselessly at her side, staring up at him insolently and he knew at once that it was Sirius Black. Lupin’s presence he could understand, but Black?
“Bombarda.” Lupin hissed, and the door burst off its hinges in an explosion of dust and splinters. The students screamed, and he yelled for them to return to their common rooms as he strode in, covering his face with his cloak and coughing as the dust settled. Snape went in after him, even as Padfoot nipped at his ankles, trying to stop him. He resisted the urge to kick him.
Freya did not even turn to look at them. She had erected an enormous canvas, and was furiously hurling gobs of bright red paint onto it, in great vicious arcs, not caring one bit about the mess she was making. She was wearing a white tank top, and overlarge paint splattered men’s shirt. Red smeared her face and hands. The effect was quite alarming. Tears were streaming down her face, and her shoulders quaked with violent sobs, but she refused to look at them.
“Freya…” Snape began, inching closer, hoping to gain some control of the situation, but he was forced to duck sharply when she hurled something violently at him. The jar shattered on the wall behind him, and his nostrils twitched at the scent of turpentine. He heard Mcgonagall trying to usher the small gaggle of students down the corridor. Many of them were straining for a glimpse of the action.
A wail tore from Freya’s throat, and to his horror, she produced a thin dagger. Lupin ran to her, thinking she meant to harm herself, but instead she began hacking at the painting in long, ferocious swipes, tearing long gashes into the canvas and sending tiny droplets of scarlet flying. “FREYA.” Severus growled. “ENOUGH. You’re frightening the students. Damn you, CONTROL YOURSELF.” It was the only thing he could think of to say. Snape had never perfected the art of comforting others in times of grief. The knife slid from her grasp and clattered to the floor as she emitted a terrible sob. Her hands clawed at the ruined canvas, scratching and smearing pigment all over it like a madwoman, leaving great gouges of white and pink in the red mess.
“FREYA.” Lupin caught her as she crumpled to the floor, her breaths leaving her chest in great shuddering gasps. “It’s…it’s alright.” He said dumbly. There was a flicker of movement, and Snape caught sight of Hermione Granger staring at them from the doorway. “GET OUT OF HERE.” Snape snarled so ferociously, that she jumped, and scurried back into the corridor.
“You should take your own bloody advice, SNAPE.” Lupin growled angrily back at him.
“They killed him.” Freya said in a high shrill voice that cracked with effort.
“I know.” Lupin whispered, his attentions immediately returning to his forlorn sister, who sudden looked very small, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as they trembled.
“I…I hate them. I…want. Them. TO SUFFER.” She gasped into his chest with such pure malice and intention that it appeared to shock her older brother. Snape scowled with a jealousy he knew to be irrational. He wanted to be the one to comfort her. He wanted to be the one she turned to in her hour of need.
“I know you do.” Remus murmured into her hair, and she began to sob openly into his chest in terrible, guttural sobs. “We must be smart about this. You must get these outbursts under control. I know it’s hard.”
“Grief is not pretty, Lupin. Nor should it be.” Severus snapped. Freya pulled away from her brother, and for one moment stared wildly at him, sniffling. A small, deranged laugh bubbled from her lips, but it turned into a gasp of despair, and she looked back at Remus.
“I thought you hated me.”
“You’re my sister, damn it.” Lupin replied gruffly, his own eyes becoming suspiciously wet.
“I’m sorry about mum. I’m sorry about everything.” Her voice was so small that it pierced Snape’s heart like a needle.
“It wasn’t your fault. I was an ass, Freya. When you came back, I was so pleased to have my sister again that I forgot how to be an older brother. You sure as hell reminded me with that tongue tying jinx.” Remus said with a kind chuckle. Freya smiled tentatively, then gasped in surprise when the great black dog padded up to her and bumped his head against her palm with a soft whine.
“Oh. Hello.” She said, reaching down to give Padfoot a scratch behind the ears. The dog licked her fingers, and she smiled. “You’re a handsome fellow, aren’t you?”
            Severus cleared his throat, trying to remind them that he was, in fact still present. “If you like filthy mutts.” He said under his breath. The dog glared at him, being the only one with ears sharp enough to hear the insult.
            “That’s Sirius, Freya.” Lupin muttered. Freya looked somewhat abashed, but still stubbornly refused to meet Severus’ gaze.
            “Are you really?” She asked the dog inquisitively. Sirius began to wag his tail.
            “Don’t you dare, Black.” Snape growled, knowing the man was thinking about transforming, which would mean a very sudden, very naked Sirius, in front of his witch.
            “Filch is going to be furious when he sees the mess you’ve made.” Lupin said, thoughtfully eyeing the painting she’d created in her grief. There were tracks of red all over the floor. Freya blushed, and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. The tears had finally stopped.
“I’m sorry. It’s the only way I can…get it out.” She made a gesture, as if clawing an invisible something from her chest. Lupin gave her a pained smile. Snape strode forward in a huff, and for the first time, Freya looked up into his eyes, effectively stopping him from placing a hand on her shoulder. There was so much hurt there, and suddenly, without warning, a memory arose, unbidden in his mind. He had seen that look before, but on a much younger woman. Frizzy auburn hair, kohl rimmed eyes, constantly drawing in class. No. He shook his head. Now was not the time to dwell on such things.
“You don’t owe anyone an explanation, Freya.” He said softly, his chest tight with strange emotions. “And don’t worry about Filch. I can handle the squib. Go on.” He tossed his head toward the door. Lupin frowned at him as he removed his tattered brown cloak, and wrapped it around his sister, pulling her close. “Let’s get you cleaned up, Freya. Oh and Snape…”He glanced up at the dour potions master. “Dumbledore want to see us in an hour.”
Lips twitching into a scowl, Snape watched Lupin steer Freya out the door, with Sirius trotting along behind them. She did not look back. When he glanced back up at the tattered painting, he felt anger and self-loathing welling up into his throat. This was how she expressed her feelings. After years of swallowing his own emotions, he thought perhaps he understood, but it filled him with enormous guilt to see a physical representation of her grief, knowing that he was at least partially responsible for that hurt. She’d told him, that night on the astronomy tower. “Has it occurred to you that I don’t want to want you?” He’d heard her, and he’d pursued her anyway. The sex was phenomenal, but she’d had years of that sort of dangerous love. He’d seen it in her memories. She needed more. She deserved more.
Finally, after weeks of pursuit, of seduction and of conquest, he remembered her. With the memories returning, it amazed him how easily he’d forgotten about the troubled young teen who’d once attended his lectures. Chubby and awkward little Freya Lupin, always quietly doodling in the back of the classroom. She had been so shy and unobtrusive at first that he hadn’t even bothered tormenting her the way he tormented so many others. Even being the sister of his childhood enemy hadn’t been enough to draw his attention. Later, she’d been something of a wild child, refusing to be bound by any rules deemed oppressive by her teenaged sensibilities, though she’d never caused a single problem in his class…except for one incident.
As he stared sullenly at the painting, he recalled an incident where he’d asked her a question, trying to make her speak in front of the other students. She had a habit of never participating in class, though her potions had been fair. It had begun to annoy him, the way she’d stare out the window. Instead of answering, she’d ignored him, and kept doodling in her notebook. As punishment, he’d pointed his wand at the drawing and set it aflame, but she did not run, or burst into tears as other students had done before her. She’d simply watched, transfixed as the image of a serpent, surrounded by blooming roses curled into embers and black soot. The young Freya had stared up at him, the same hurt blossoming behind those wide blue eyes that he’d seen just a few moments ago. Then, without a word, she’d done something very odd. She’d dipped a finger into the hot ashes, and drawn a single black line of charcoal down the center of her chin, trailing it all the way down her throat while everyone stared. Then, eyes shining, she’d kicked the table over, sending her cauldron and all of its contents flying before giving him the finger, and storming off. Other students whooped and applauded. He couldn’t remember punishing her, but as far as he knew, that was the last time he’d seen her. How could he have forgotten such a strange outburst from one of his students?
Fuck. Snape thought. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’d screwed up. Hesitating, he gingerly plucked the wet painting from its pedestal and muttered a quick cleaning charm to conceal the splattered evidence from Filch’s prying eyes. Then he quickly stepped through the ruined doorway, and with a flourish of his wand, fixed that as well, the stones and splinters flying backwards into their original places as if nothing had ever happened, and he silently swore to himself that if he heard a single student utter a word about this, he would personally obliviate their memories, Albus be damned.
He swept down the stairwells into his private chambers, and propped the tattered canvas against a bookcase, not caring if it stained his carpet. His robes needed a change, however as there were tiny flecks of red all over them, and he stank of turpentine.
When he finally went to the headmaster’s office, he was annoyed, yet unsurprised to see Sirius Black, no longer a dog, leaning amicably against the wall, thoughtfully stroking his moustache. Luckily, he was fully clothed. Freya’s hair had been brushed and cleaned, and it tumbled to her shoulders, glinting copper in the firelight. He longed to touch it. How could he possibly apologize after being so selfish? She deserved better, and he knew it, but the way Black was gazing at her had his jaw twitching with fury. None of them acknowledged him, save for Dumbledore, who gave him a small nod.
“Severus. As I was saying, I received notification from the ministry this morning. I had hoped not to discuss this until tomorrow, but I’m afraid we cannot wait.” He was tactfully not mentioning Freya’s outburst, which almost certainly had something to do with it. Snape watched her carefully, but her expression was stony. “Miss Lupin, I’m afraid the ministry is insisting that you step down, as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” The room grew very silent as these words sunk in. Then, Sirius and Lupin both exploded with outrage, babbling furiously at the injustice of this, each loudly declaring that Freya was the finest DA teacher the school had ever seen. Lupin who of course had held the position as well, proclaimed this the loudest. Freya said nothing, and Snape studied her from the corner of his eye. She didn’t seem angry, or upset but instead looked strangely relieved. Was she really so eager to be away from this place? Away from him? Dumbledore held up a hand for silence. Lupin’s face was red, and Sirius was baring his teeth like the dog he was. “This is out of my hands, gentlemen. No one is more remorseful than I, but I assure you Freya, that this has nothing whatsoever to do with your…performance, this term.”
Freya’s eyes snapped up at his subtle emphasis on the word “performance” and somehow, Snape knew that he was referring to her appearance at The Locke, the night of the murders. She pressed her lips together, but said nothing. Severus watched, as the flickering firelight made the tattoos on her arms and shoulders appear to dance across bare skin. He wanted to kiss every single one. He wanted to tell her that everything would be all right, even though he knew it wasn’t true. Dumbledore continued.
“The ministry has insisted on sending one of their own as a replacement, a Miss Dolores Umbridge. She will be here by the start of the new term.” Lupin’s brow darkened at the name. Umbridge had been on the forefront of several new anti-werewolf laws, making it harder than ever for him to land a decent job. Freya winced, as well.
“Will I be permitted to say goodbye to my students?” She asked softly.
“Unfortunately I do not think that would be wise. The ministry is sending this woman to spy on me, and your presence might, um…” Dumbledore looked slightly strained and uncomfortable.
“I understand.” Freya said.
“Albus, you cannot do this.” Snape stepped forward, speaking in a low, urgent tone. “There are creatures out there who want her dead. If you send her away, she will be in great danger. Hogwarts is the safest place for her.” They stared at him, and Lupin actually nodded gratefully.
“That is why I have invited Siruis.” Dumbledore said, nodding to the tall, handsome animagus, who grinned.
“You must be joking.” He sneered, feeling sick.
“Not at all!” Black proclaimed. “Freya will be staying with me, at Grimmauld place. Isn’t that right, love?” He fixed the young witch with a dashing smile, and she nodded, almost shyly.
“Headmaster…” Snape hesitated, then glanced back at Freya who was determined not to meet his eyes. He lowered his voice, choosing his words carefully. “Miss Lupin is bound to me, by old magic. She may stay with me. The castle itself will recognize this, and reform itself to join her quarters to mine, if you allow it.”
“The castle would, but the ministry will not.” Albus said with an air of finality. He looked at Freya, and there was great remorse in his expression. “I am sorry, my dear, but that is my decision. You will leave tonight.”
“Tonight?” Snape snapped. “You’re just going to banish her from the grounds like some petty criminal? After everything she’s done for the order?” He could have throttled the old man. Of all the ungrateful…
“She’ll be safe with me, Snivellus. Don’t you worry.” Sirius chortled
“Safer than she is here?” He spat back.
“You’re both fools if you think I need your protection.” Freya said bitterly. Snape whirled on her.
“Oh yes, what I fool I am. If you leave this castle with him, it could be your picture in the daily prophet next. Do you think I want that, witch? Do you?” He muttered bitterly, hating the way she flinched at his words, as though he had slapped her.
“Her name’s Freya, Snivellus.” Sirius said with a frown, placing a hand on her shoulder. Snape glowered furiously at them. Leave it to Black to undermine him this way.
“It’s already done, Severus. I have given the ministry my answer, and I intend to cooperate.” Albus said quietly.
“NO. I do NOT accept this!” He snapped.
“It’s my choice.” Freya said quietly. They all turned to stare at her. She looked up at Severus and he felt his heart clench at the quiet resolve in her eyes. He watched as she slowly reached up, and began to unclasp the collar from around her neck.
“Freya, please don’t do this.” He said in a hoarse, strained voice, not caring who heard. “Please.”
“When you gave me this, you were giving me your protection. I’ll always be grateful for that.” She placed the collar in his hand, and closed his fingers around it. He struggled to find words. He needed to find the words to make her stay.
“I…I remembered.” He whispered. “I remember you now, Freya. The serpent with the roses.” Her eyes widened, and she turned from him, blinking back tears. The other men looked puzzled, but did not inquire.
“I’ll go pack my things.” Freya said.
“I’ll help you.” Lupin said, immediately rushing to her side before anyone else had a chance to step in. “Sirius, we’ll meet you at Grimmauld place, yeah?” The animagus nodded, and gave Freya another dashing smile.
“Don’t worry, Freya. My home is your home. You and I will get along famously.” He gave Severus an infuriating wink before stepping into the fireplace, and disappearing in a puff of green smoke. He scowled darkly at the place where he’d been, then turned back to look at Freya, but she and her brother had already gone. Then he whirled on Dumbledore.
“And when you’re done with me, Albus? When I’m no longer useful to you are you going to throw me to the wolves as well?”
“I’m sorry Severus. I know you’re fond of her.”
“I love her.” The words spilled from his lips before he could stop himself. The old man gave him a very hard look over the rims of his half moon spectacles, and proceeded to study him for several long moments.
“I know that, Severus. It’s been many years since I’ve seen you look at a woman that way.” He said softly. “Still, my decision is final. I’m sure will have more than one opportunity to see her, in the future. Grimmauld’s place is not so very far, after all.”
Molly Weasley suddenly sprang to mind. Go get her before she falls in love with Sirius Black. “Damn you to hell, you old bastard.” He snarled, and stormed away in a flurry of black robes, slamming the office door behind him. We’re not done yet, Freya. I will fix this. He thought.
- 9
- 10
- 11
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Spy vs. Spy