Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Spy vs. Spy	By : Sakuracelt Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 15746 -:- 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
- 12
- 13
- 14
“Stand up, and take out your wand, Potter.” Severus drawled, watching with utter loathing as the young wizard stood, and faced him, his wand clutched warily in his hand. He couldn’t stand the boy, but Dumbledore had insisted that he teach him occlumency. An impossible task, to be sure. Arthur Weasley had been attacked by an enormous serpent while standing guard in the ministry of magic, and Harry had seen it in a vision as he’d slept. “You may use your wand to disarm me, or attempt to defend yourself in any way. I am about to attempt to break into your mind. We are going to see how well you resist. Brace yourself now. Legilimens.”
            Images flickered through Snape’s mind. A fat little boy is riding a bicycle while Harry watches, jealousy etched on his tiny face. A vicious bulldog is chasing him up a tree, barking madly while his muggle family watches and laughs. Now the child is placing the sorting hat onto his head while everyone in the great hall watches with great anticipation. He is in the hospital wing; his young friend Hermione Granger has sprouted dark fur, which covers her entire face. They are standing at the edge of the icy black lake as dementors whirl eerily around them, poised to attack at any moment. Harry raises his wand, looking for all the world like a little boy again as he tries to defend his unconscious godfather against these monsters. Suddenly they are standing in a room that is surely in Hogwarts, and a very pretty Ravenclaw girl is drawing nearer, her intention clear even as her eyes fill up with tears.“No…” Potter’s voice echoes softly. “You’re not watching THAT.”
            The images stopped suddenly, and Snape hissed in pain as the boy who lived crumpled to his knees. He rubbed at his sore wrist, scowling in distaste.
            “Did you mean to produce a stinging jinx, Potter?”
            “N…no.” Harry sputtered.
            “I thought not.” He glared sourly at the young man. “You let me get in too far. You lost control.” The boy returned his glare with equal venom. They continued in this fashion several more times.
            “Legilimens!”
            A portly man with an enormous walrus moustache drills screws into a letterbox, sealing it shut. The dementors swirl angrily overhead, then dive nearer, their breath rattling horribly. There is a windowless passage, and at the end, a plain black door, but Arthur Weasley steers him in the opposite direction.
            “I KNOW! I KNOW!” Harry suddenly cried out victoriously. Snape stared at him, and their psychic connection snapped.
            “What happened then, Potter?” He asked with an ominous feeling.
            “I saw. I remembered. I just realized!” Harry gasped.
            “Realized WHAT?”
Harry rubbed his forehead, and winced. Then he looked up suddenly into his eyes. Snape fought to conceal a shudder. Looking into those bright green orbs always made him feel uncomfortable. They were her eyes. “What’s in the Department of Mysteries?” Harry asked.
            “What did you say?” Snape asked quietly, feeling quite alarmed by this outburst. The Order had been discussing the Department of Mysteries for months, but of course, this was information he knew the boy could not possibly be privy to.
            “I said ‘what’s in the Department of Mysteries,’ sir?”
            “Why would you ask such a thing?”
            “That corridor. I’ve been dreaming about it for months. I think Voldemort wants something-“
            “I TOLD you not to say the dark lord’s name.” Snape hissed furiously. The boy was completely impervious to simple instructions. It was maddening. “There are many things in the department of mysteries. None of which concern you. I want you back here on Wednesday. Before you go to bed, you are to empty yourself of all emotions. Make your mind completely blank. If you do not do this, I will know. Do I make myself clear?”
            “Fine.” Harry replied testily, and then without another word, grabbed his book bag, and left, closing the door behind him a little too hard.
            Snape sat at his desk, his mind reeling. The boy was having visions again, and as reckless and arrogant as he was, he knew it could only lead to disaster if left unchecked. He pulled out a drawer in his desk, and pulled out a flask. This was a habit he had picked up from Freya of course, but he did find that the occasional nip helped to calm his nerves. This liquor was pungent and harsh, not the smoky sweet whiskey that she preferred, as he’d discovered it had a tendency to make him drowsy. After several moments of rubbing his temples, he began to silently grade a stack of essays for his third year class, but his eyes soon slid to the black dragonhide sketchbook he’d been using to communicate with Freya.
It was pleasantly comforting to know that he could reach her so easily, and he’d discovered that it was far easier for him to communicate openly in this fashion. Often he’d find that when he was unable to sleep, she would be up as well, doodling strange little symbols. To his amazement, he realized he could talk to her about things that troubled him, a habit he was not used to. Many secrets were still left desperately clutched to his chest, but she had never pried. Never before had he been so delighted to learn new things about another person.
Eventually, he could not help but peek inside, and was pleased to find that the witch was currently making rough little sketches in her own book. She had a habit of stealing away odd little bits of morbidity from Black’s dreary home and drawing them in her bedroom. In fact, the pages that were not taken up by their many written conversations were filled with cross sections of insects and raven skulls. At the moment she was roughly sketching what appeared to be a shrunken head, perched on a tiny pedestal beneath a swollen glass dome.
            It was a very worthwhile distraction to be sure, but it was very difficult to focus on a stack of essays describing the properties of asphodel when Freya’s little snippets and studies kept magically appearing. Of course, he could have simply ignored it, but it made the grueling task far more entertaining, even if it was slowing him down a bit. Currently, a highly detailed anatomical sketch of a frog skeleton was slowly etching itself onto the page in black ink, and he kept glancing over at it to watch its progress. Several dark patches bloomed unexpectedly, staining the parchment in spidery flecks, as though Freya were simply holding her quill over the drawing and watching the drops of ink splash carelessly onto her work. Snape paused his grading for a moment, and picked up the sketchbook.
            “Something’s troubling you?” He wrote, and then waited. The droplets stopped, and then words appeared in Freya’s handwriting.
            “Yes.”
            “Go on. Tell me your troubles, and I shall tell you mine.”
            “Alright. Don’t be cross with me, but I’ve been doing some digging on The Locke and something’s not right, Severus. Why would Lucius Malfoy try to poison me? Why would Voldemort want me dead without questioning me first? Why would he want Sean dead? He wasn’t a political activist. He was a bartender. I want to know what happened after we apparated that night.”
            “I see.” He wrote, frowning. Similar thoughts had been troubling him as well. He’d attended several death eater gatherings since that night, and none of them had claimed responsibility for those deaths, not even Lucius. “And what have you found?”
            “Not much. The ministry is trying to pin the blame on Sirius, so I went back to The Locke the other night, and spoke with some people.”
            Severus stared, aghast at what he was reading. She had gone back to the scene of her attempted murder alone? Snape ran his fingers though his hair, trying to calm his furiously pounding heart. She had placed herself in danger, trying to find information on the death of her friend. He should have known she would do this. More words appeared. “Most of the usual crowd has stopped going. They’re scared, Severus. There’s no ongoing investigation into the murders, and the club is still open. Apparently they never closed it, even after the bodies were found. Now it’s full of unsavory types. Well, less savory than usual, I mean. ”
            “That was incredibly reckless, Freya.” Snape scribbled angrily. “How could you place yourself in danger like that? You do know you still have vampires after you?” She did not respond for several minutes, until finally, more ink began to surface.
            “I had to, Severus. I’m sorry, but I need answers. If it makes you feel better, I disguised myself, but it’s sweet of you to worry.” He scowled darkly at this. “Sweet” was hardly the word he’d use to describe what he was feeling. He ached for her, longed to be near her, but the fear was constant. It clutched at his chest with icy talons, often waking him in the middle of the night. Severus had forgotten how terrifying it was to love someone like Freya. This was not the first time a woman he cared for had been targeted by dangerous wizards, but the first one had not gone looking for trouble when she had been killed. “I did learn something interesting though. The Locke is under entirely new management, and has been since Sean died. All the staff has been replaced, and the liquor has improved remarkably.”
            “And I suppose you think that information is worth risking your life over?” He wrote, practically stabbing the parchment with his quill. Freya ignored this, and continued.
            “Sean didn’t have a partner, business or otherwise. He had no family, no written will that I could find, and there were no records of a transaction, nor was the business ever put up for auction. If galleons changed hands, it must have happened while Sean was still alive.”
            Snape’s lips twitched, and he decided he did not want to know how Freya had gained access to the Locke’s financial records. As frustrating as it was to know that she was playing detective when she was still supposed to be in hiding, he had to admit she had a point. If the deed to The Locke had seen a change in ownership, it had happened very smoothly for a club that had so recently been in the Daily Profit for four murders and supposedly had at least some ministry oversight. Clearly the transaction had occurred “under the table” so to speak. “None of the Dark Lord’s followers have claimed responsibility for the attacks. I’ve read the article several times, and there was no dark mark present, or if there was it’s been covered up. That being said, I know you are more than capable of looking after yourself, but please be careful if you’re going to keep pursuing this.” There was a pause that lasted several minutes, before more words appeared.
            “I appreciate the sentiment, Severus, but it appears as though I’ve hit a dead end.”
            “Where do we go from here?” He wrote. If she was determined to get to the bottom of Sean’s death, he was not about to let her go through it alone, if he could help it.
            “Tell me what’s troubling you?” The text formed slowly on the page in front of him. She was changing the subject. Snape frowned. He would drop it, for now, but if she thought he’d forget what she’d been up to, she had another thing coming.
            “I just gave Potter his first lesson in Occlumency.”
            “How did it go?”
            “Abysmally. The boy has no patience, no discipline and absolutely no control over his emotions.”
            “Oh to be fifteen again. Why isn’t Dumbledore teaching him?”
            “He has his reasons, I’m sure. Do you think I am ill equipped for the job?” He wrote feeling somewhat ruffled.
            “No, but you do hate him almost as much as he hates you. It seems rather unfair to both of you.”
            “He knows about the Department of Mysteries.” There was a pause here, as Freya considered this.
            “Well…bollocks.”
            “My thoughts exactly.”
            “Does he know about the thingy?”
Severus snorted with amusement. “No, I am fairly certain he does not know about the ‘thingy.’”
            “I suppose that’s alright then. For now at least. In all honesty, the Order should have seen this coming.”
            “Oh?”
            “I’m sure you didn’t make a habit of hanging about Grimmauld place last summer, but it sounds like the others need a lesson in discretion. Acting all secretive and mysterious, as if that wouldn’t immediately draw his curiosity. If half the things I’ve heard are true, then Potter has a knack for attracting trouble even when he doesn’t go looking for it. If we placed a flashing sign that said ‘enticing secrets that concern Harry Potter, inquire within’ over headquarters, we’d have better luck keeping it from him.”
            Severus considered this for a moment. “I suppose you have a point.”
            “My only real question is, when can I see you again, Severus? This sketchbook is all kinds of fun, but I find your snarkiness much more endearing in person.”
“Soon, I hope. I thought perhaps we could arrange something this coming weekend.”
            “Assuming Sirius doesn’t hex you to bits.” He winced at this, but had to smile just a little bit. She was referring to the approaching duel, and clearly she was at least somewhat worried for him. It was a nice feeling.
            “I assure you, I am more than well equipped to handle Black.”
            “Oh? Going to compare ‘equipment’ are you? Perhaps I’ll pop by after all.”
            “None of your cheek, now. You know that no one but the duelists and their seconds are permitted.”
            “Curiouser and curiouser. Why don’t you two learn to hate each other in silence, the way witches do?”
            “I suspect we wizards simply prefer to let our wands do the talking.”
            “And do you and Sirius often whip your wands out in front of eachother?”
            “Are you teasing me, Miss Lupin? Because as you’ll recall I have a way of dealing with young witches who have naughty minds.”
            “Oooh I’m shivering in my nightie.” She wrote, and he could sense the sarcasm behind the words.
            “Don’t tempt me, Freya.” He wrote back, feeling a small twinge of arousal in his lower abdomen.
            “I have no idea what you mean, Professor.” He smirked. The last time she’d called him “professor” she’d been at his mercy, practically begging for him. So she still liked to play rough? Good to know.
            “Naughty witch. I’ve a mind to bend you over my knee.”
            “I’ve a mind to let you. You know what that kind of talk does to me, you tease.”
Severus smirked, and tapped his lip thoughtfully as he gazed down at the open sketchbook, his papers forgotten. This hadn’t exactly been what he’d had in mind when he’d given Freya its twin, but he supposed it was inevitable. “Play your cards right, darling and I’ll do more than just talk to you.”
“Tempting. Although you could probably read the back of a bottle of Sleakeazy’s Hair Potion and make it sound good.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere, you saucy wench.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that. For example, do you remember that day you followed me in Diagon Alley?”
“How could I possibly forget?”
“Were you watching when I went into Madam Malkin’s?”
Snape thought for a moment, recalling how he’d he’d watched her enter the shop dressed in a set of Mcgonagall’s old, ill fitting tartan robes, then had re-emerged looking entirely different, and far lovelier. “I certainly do.”
“Then you saw me order something rather particular.”
“Oh?” He thought a bit harder, and then he remembered. She had slipped a scrap of parchment into Madam Malkin’s palm. How could he have forgotten such a curious detail? “What did you buy?” There was a pause. Severus watched the page with growing curiosity.
“On second thought, I don’t think I’ll tell you. But you might be flattered to know, that you did cross my mind when I ordered it.”
“You little minx! I insist that you tell me what it was!” Severus chuckled softly to himself. He was starting to love the way that she teased him.
“No. I don’t think I will. Although I’d be happy to show you.”
Snape closed his eyes for a moment as a flurry of arousal made him stiffen in his trousers. His imagination was running quite wild at this seemingly careless turn of phrase.“If you’re not careful my dear, I will come back over there and I will have my way with you, even if I have to blast your mangy guard dog out of my way first.” He chose the words carefully, but found himself grinning like a schoolboy. They had spent a month apart, yet now that they’d been reunited they were flirting outrageously. He couldn’t help but enjoy it immensely.
“Ahh to have two grown wizards acting like fools over me. This must be what it’s like to be popular.” Naturally, Freya knew perfectly well that she was only an excuse. The two men had hated each other ever since their very first trip on the Hogwarts express when they were only eleven years old. Snape grinned sardonically.
“Darling, I would hex a hundred Sirius Blacks for another taste of you.” His cock throbbed hard at the memory of pleasuring her on top of the kitchen table, her hips bucking into his mouth as she came, murmuring his name. It was probably a good thing they were communicating this way, as they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of each other.
“Interesting. I wonder if you’d put your money where your mouth is.”
Snape’s eyebrows shot up at this. A wager? “Go on.” He wrote.
“I’ve been watching Sirius and my brother practice jinxes all morning. He’s good. Remus is even better. If Sirius wins, I’d like you to do something for me. Nothing dangerous, I assure you.”
“You’re betting against me?”
“Only to make it interesting.”
“What are you after?”
“Let’s not ruin the surprise, now.”
“And if I win?”
“What would you like?”
“Fascinating.” He pressed the tips of his fingers together as he considered this proposal. Naturally, he had every intention of winning, but Freya had now had the advantage of seeing both men in action, and she clearly thought Black had a decent chance, although it sounded like Remus would be the real challenge, if he had to step in as Sirius’ second. “I’d like to take you somewhere. A surprise. I promise that my intentions would be entirely pure.”
“You know, I almost believe you. It’s a deal.” At this point a wet black stain began to ooze across the letters, spreading inky fingers across the page. He supposed that she must have accidentally knocked her ink over, then smirked as two tiny sets of paw prints began to appear, dotting their written conversation. Clearly, Trigul felt that he was not getting enough attention from his witch. “Stupid cat.” Freya wrote.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

                        As Severus made his way outside to the Quidditch pitch, a high pitched, girlish voice interrupted him.
            “Ahem. Professor Snape. A word, if you please.”
            Severus’s lip curled with immense dislike at the sound of the tiny, meaningful cough. When he turned, a squat toad of a woman dressed in pink was smiling up at him in an awful, saccharine sweet kind of way. Her black eyes glittered like beetles.
            “So sorry to trouble you.” She said dully, not sounding at all sorry for wasting his time. Today was the January quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, and he intended to be there. “I have been informed that as of ten o-clock Saturday morning, you were seen leaving the castle.”
            Snape kept his expression blank. “Yes.”
            “And as of one-o-clock Saturday afternoon, you were then spotted apparating from Hogsmeade.”
            “Correct.” It was actually an effort not to sneer derisively at Umbridge. The woman was more than just a pain in the arse, but he found it wiser to keep his interactions with her as shortly clipped as possible.
            “And…where did you apparate to, Professor Snape?”
            “Is this information relevant to my review, Professor Umbridge?”
            Her eyes bugged out of her skull, and she puffed herself up a bit. “Need I remind you, Snape-“
            “’Professor Snape.’ “ He corrected smoothly. “Very well. I happened to be visiting an acquaintance of mine.”
            “Who…” She began, scribbling something down in her notebook, her eyes narrowing with suspicious interest.
            “A female acquaintance, Miss Umbridge. I trust that you understand my meaning, as well as my desire to protect the lady’s privacy? If the ministry does require details, I would only be too happy to write them down for you. ” The faintest of smirks touched his lips as the witch’s face turned beet red and she began to stutter.
            “That’s quite alright Professor Snape. The ministry thanks you for your cooperation, as always.”
            He nodded curtly, then stalked away from her, robes billowing as his scowl finally returned. Severus did not at all like the interested tone in the witch’s voice. Nosey old hag, he thought sourly as he made his way outside. The air was blisteringly cold, and it stung his face like an icy knife against his skin, but the climb to the tall quidditch bleachers soon warmed him up. When he finally reached the top of the Slytherin side, a familiar, drawling voice, greeted him.
            “Ahh Severus. Care to join us?”
            Snape gave Lucius a tight, indulgent smile, then greeted Narcissa Malfoy with a gallant kiss on her gloved hand before seating himself next to her. The Slytherin students were crowded around them, all bundled up in green and silver scarves and hats, waving their pennants enthusiastically and loudly jeering at the Ravenclaws seated on the opposite side of pitch. To his surprise, Narcissa turned to give him an appraising glance.
            “You look well, Severus. There is something different about you.”
            “And you are as lovely as ever, Mrs. Malfoy.” He intoned politely, carefully keeping his eyes on the quidditch field as he did so.
            “My husband tells me you are well acquainted with a dear friend of ours. Perhaps that is the reason behind the change?” She mused. Severus stiffened ever so slightly, and chanced a look at her. She was grinning like the cat that swallowed the canary, and he knew that lying outright would not do.
“To whom are you referring, Madam?”
“To dear Freya Lupin, of course, although she went by ‘Cerise’ not so long ago. Lovely girl. A touch eccentric of course, but you know these artistic types.” Narcissa purred with surprising fondness. Severus’ eyes slid to Lucius, searching for a trace of emotion that might betray him, but the wizard only smirked.
“Last I saw, they were a bit more than acquaintances, I think.” Lucius said a little too knowingly. Severus’ lips twitched into something like a grin, but his stomach gave a nasty lurch.
“Oh now, don’t tease him, my love.” Narcissa chided playfully. “Freya was once a favorite of ours as well.” She added wistfully. Inwardly, Severus scowled. He did not like the way this conversation was going. “We all have our little weaknesses.” Severus winced inwardly at this observation, as this was a thought that had indeed troubled him. As much as he did not want to believe that his involvement with the former DA teacher was a weakness, he knew that he now had something to lose, something that could make him lose his head if he was not careful.
“Yes indeed. A pity about her family.” Lucius sniffed arrogantly. Narcissa’s lips twisted into a faint sneer of agreement, but she continued.
“I still have one of her pieces hanging in my boudoir. It’s one of my favorites.”
“Severus and I were gifted with one of her performances not long ago…before that unfortunate incident of course.” Lucius said mildly. Snape stared at him for a moment, a tiny bubble of rage welling up inside of him. “It was lucky that you were with her. Else we may have lost our girl forever.”
“Indeed.” Severus replied delicately, suddenly feeling a twinge of nausea. Was this Lucius’ attempt at gloating?
“Oh my yes. I was ever so pleased to hear of her recovery. A pity about the others, though. “ Narcissa said, not sounding at all sorry.
“Ah yes. That was…poorly handled.” Lucius drawled thoughtfully.
Severus clenched his fists inside the pockets of his heavy woolen cloak. They were talking about the murders as if making small talk about the weather. Something did not quite make sense. Until recently, he had assumed that Lucius had been the one to send poisoned shots to Freya that night, but something about that no longer felt right. Lucius had killed before, but he had always been a terrible braggart, and he never soiled his expensive gloves if he could have someone else do it. Surely if he was the wizard behind the attack on The Locke, he would have boasted about his role, rather than tiptoe about the issue delicately with him and his wife.
He contemplated this carefully as the quidditch players walked onto the field. Narcissa squeezed her husband’s hand lovingly when they saw their son mount his broom, and rise into the air with the others. Severus watched as Draco and the Ravenclaw seeker Cho Chang began to slowly circle the quidditch pitch. Draco smirked over at them as the Slytherins whooped and cheered his name. Severus nodded at him approvingly while Narcissa beamed proudly at her son. Lucius smiled at Draco as well, but it was a hard smile that clearly said “don’t you dare lose this one, boy.”
Snape eyed the game thoughtfully as Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and the players sprung into action. The Ravenclaws were on form as usual, their tactics highly developed strategically, but the Slytherins had no qualms about playing dirty. Quidditch was a rough sport, after all. The Ravenclaw seeker, however, had not been playing quite up to snuff, having lost her boyfriend during the tri-wizard tournament only last year. Severus could empathize with this, although he was careful not to let it show. He knew very well how it felt to have a loved one murdered by Lord Voldemort. Naturally, he still wanted a Slytherin victory this year, but he still silently hoped that Cho would fly well today at the very least.
A white glint of light suddenly drew his attention, and he glared at the opposing side. Something reflective had flashed in his direction. He felt a small pang of unease, though he was not sure why until he squinted hard at the far away crowd. The feeling grew as he drew his own omnioculars and peered through them. The person wore a Ravenclaw scarf and a cloak of deepest midnight blue. The hood was drawn up, obscuring any recognizable features, but as he stared, he knew that the eyes behind those lenses were watching him back. The lips beneath the wide circular disks were curled in a familiar, determined grin. His stomach did a flip. Freya, what in Merlin’s name are you doing here, he thought grimly, but he knew the answer. She wasn’t watching him. She was watching the Malfoys.
He lowered the omnioculars slowly, and continued pretending to watch the game. As much as he wanted to rush over, he dared not draw attention to her. Clearly she did not wish to be seen, and he would not be the one to give her position away. When he raised them again, he was careful to move it slowly from side to side, as if following the players. Lucius and Narcissa continued to talk quietly, seemingly oblivious to his actions. Ravenclaw scored a goal, and the Slytherin students booed and hissed angrily. A scowl twitched on his own lips, as well. Pansy Parkinson, who was seated in front of him, tried to cast a discreet jinx at Cho Chang when she flew close by, but Severus reached out and caught her by the wrist before she could utter a single syllable. Pansy scowled back at him, but the expression withered and died on her face at the look of warning Snape gave her. She put her wand away sheepishly as Lucius chuckled. When he looked through his omnioculars again, he searched the crowd, but Freya was gone.
“Please excuse me for a moment, gentlemen.” Narcissa said smoothly. Severus nodded politely as she rose, and slid past him. He watched suspiciously as she disappeared.
“Are you ready for your little duel this Friday, Severus?” Lucius asked. “I must say I was surprised to receive your owl.”
“I am more than ready, I assure you.” He replied smoothly.
“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me who your opponent is?”
“I’m afraid I can’t. Venetian rules, you understand.” As much as he hated the man, Severus dared not reveal Sirius’ identity. He knew he was cutting it close, and he’d almost immediately regretted choosing Lucius as his second. Malfoy nodded, clearly disappointed, but thought too highly of himself to press him. It was a gentleman’s duel, after all. All who were present would wear masks. His gaze lingered on the spot where Narcissa had been, and he carefully excused himself. Lucius nodded, still watching the game intently. Slytherin scored a goal, and the surrounding students stood and cheered raucously.
Severus slipped down the spiral stairs, but stopped when he heard two female voices whispering urgently to one another just around the bend. Quick as a serpent, he drew his wand and cast a silent disillusionment charm on himself.
“Freya…my god, woman I haven’t heard from you in two years. I thought you were dead.” Narcissa hissed, furiously.
“Thanks to your husband I almost was.”
“What the hell are you on about? How dare you…”
“Did he do it? Did he kill those people at The Locke?”
“Lucius didn’t kill anyone that night.”
“How do you know, Cissa?” Freya spat darkly. “How much do you really know about what he does behind your back?”
“If you’re talking about his affairs, then clearly you’ve forgotten who you’re speaking with. Lucius has always had lovers, and so have I…or don’t you remember our time together?” Narcissa’s voice was soft, yet slightly bitter. Severus raised an eyebrow at this.
“I haven’t forgotten.” Freya replied quietly. A sharp pang of jealousy twisted in his gut, but he willed himself to remain still.
“Freya, whoever attacked The Locke, it wasn’t us. Lucius and I would never do anything to harm you.”
“Apart from selling me out to your Master, you mean.” Freya hissed.
“Oh my dear girl…if only you knew the power the dark lord possesses.” Narcissa sighed, sounding exactly like a woman who had just fallen blissfully in love. “Think of what he could teach you. The magic you would learn! I am sure he would be very interested in you. Come away with me. We’ll seek him out together.” There was a small sigh, and the sound of rustling fabric. Severus peered around the edge of the wall, and saw that Narcissa had reached out to touch Freya’s face beneath her hood, but Freya had seized her wrist, and held it tightly in her gloved hand. Narcissa tsked. “We’ve missed you, my dear. I was so fraught with worry after you disappeared.”
“I was in hell, Narcissa. Those creatures drained my blood for the better part of a year before I escaped.”
            “And for that, my master is so very impressed with you. Let me take you to him, Freya. You’ll find that he can be so forgiving.”
            Freya snorted with harsh laughter. “Forgiving? His pact with Lucas Frend was ruined the moment I stabbed him in the heart.”
            “You don’t seriously believe my master would have allowed that creature to live, do you? The pact was only ever temporary. Vampires are undead filth. My master will use them in the coming war, and then they are finished.”
            “I see.” Freya whispered softly, betraying no hint of emotion. Narcissa raised her hand to stroke her gently on the cheek. This time, Freya allowed it, but Severus saw her stiffen noticeably. “And what has he promised you, if you turn me in?” She asked bitterly. The caress became a sharp smack across Freya’s cheek. Snape clenched his wand tightly at the sound it made and gritted his teeth. Freya chuckled mockingly, and Narcissa drew back as if she’d been burned.
            “When you are ready to stop acting like a delusional child, the doors to the Manor will always be open to you, my dear.” Narcissa smiled coldly, and swept back up the stairs, passing within inches of Severus who held his breath and pressed himself flat against the wall. Both he and Freya waited until the sounds of her footsteps faded into the distant cheering of the crowd above them. Hissing with fury, Freya suddenly lashed out and punched the wall in front of her. Severus could barely make out her twisted expression beneath her hood.
            “I am such an idiot.” She whispered to herself before turning down the stairwell. He watched her silently, and considered following her, then decided against it. That little incident was highly telling, as far as he was concerned. He’d known that Freya and the Malfoys had some history, but seeing the way Narcissa had tried to touch her made his features darken with jealousy. Would Freya become so desperate for information regarding the murder of her friend that she would seduce her? He had to admit, it’s what he would have done. A horrible thought crossed his mind, and it made him suddenly grow cold with dread. What if Freya was doing that very thing to him? He was a deatheater after all. What if she’d only rekindled their relationship out of a desire for information? He tucked the thought away, refusing to dwell on it, but he suddenly felt too ill to return to the game.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            It was Remus who opened the door that evening when he apparated onto the doorstep of number 12 Grimmauld place. Dumbledore himself had summoned the Order that evening. He eyed the werewolf suspiciously when he gave him a surprisingly polite greeting and even offered to take his cloak for him.
            “I believe I owe you an apology, Severus.” He intoned carefully. Severus stared at him, and seeing the disbelief on his face, Remus sighed. “I’ve behaved abominably. To you, and my sister both. For that, I am truly sorry.” He held out his hand, and Severus took it hesitantly. Remus’ grip was firm, but when he tried to pull away, Remus’ expression darkened. “That being said, I cannot say I approve of what you and Sirius have planned. I’ve asked him to be the better man and call it off, but he’s refused. Severus, dueling now, when Sirius is supposed to be in hiding and you’re supposed to be spying for Dumbledore is incredibly foolhardy, and I for one…” He trailed off suddenly, his nostrils twitching. Molly Weasley had just poked her head out of the kitchen. She looked tired, but pleased to see him.
            “Come along, now. Tonks and Charlie are here. We’re just waiting on Professor Dumbledore. Hello Severus, dear! Freya’s in the kitchen if you’d like to say hello.’” Her eyes twinkled mischievously.
            When he stepped in after her, Arthur Weasley greeted him with a firm handshake. The man looked dreadful after his trip to St. Mungo’s, but a broad grin split his friendly face nonetheless. Sirius stiffened in his chair and glared coolly at him, but gave him a stiff nod in acknowledgment, which he returned, his black eyes glittering. It would not do to antagonize the man before their duel. Lupin’s mouth twisted into a disapproving grimace. To his great annoyance, Charlie Weasley was sitting next to him, and his pale, freckled face flushed scarlet when he saw his old Potion’s Master. Severus knew from the way the young man glared at him that his brothers had almost certainly told him about the Christmas party fiasco. He couldn’t help but give him a tiny, triumphant smirk. Charlie and Freya had attended Hogwarts together, and yet the, popular, handsome quidditch captain had been flatly rejected.
            Freya was standing at the counter, shaping a great wad of dough into a somewhat irregular, but fairly passable bread loaf. Her eyes widened just a touch when she saw him, and he bowed politely to her. He had taken particular care to dress well that evening, for her benefit of course. His lean frame was shown to great advantage in his midnight waistcoat, and crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, revealing his strong forearms. Tiny silver serpent cufflinks glinted at his elbows, and his long black hair shone like silk. She seemed to realize that she’d been caught staring, for she bent her head quickly to her task, a faint crimson blush staining her cheeks. It appeared at though she had allowed Molly to dress her that evening, for she wore a somewhat overlarge red knitted sweater and a very frilly apron dotted with large blue forget-me-nots. Her hair was in a messy knot on top of her head, and her nose was smeared with flour. It was strange to see her this way, as it had been the day he’d found her and her students in the school kitchens.

            Severus gave her the slightest of nods, but said nothing. Seemingly out of nowhere, Trigul the kitten, who had already grown slightly larger since the last time he’d seen him, leaped onto the table, and peered up at him as though sizing him up, before demanding attention with a rather pathetic attempt at a mew. Absentmindedly, he began scratching the furry nuisance behind the ears while the others stared.
            “That is something, isn’t it?” Arthur mused. “He won’t let any of use near him. Except Freya of course.”
            “That creature is a bloody menace.” Muttered Sirius. Freya looked up from her bread dough gave the kitten the kind of cool glare that she usually reserved for unruly students.
            “And he knows better than to be on the table.” She said. Trejgul stared at her condescendingly for a moment, then as if he understood her, clawed his way up Severus’ waistcoat until he was perched on his shoulder, where he yawned and curled up into a tight little knot. Freya smiled, then, realizing that Snape was looking at her again, blushed. She’s embarrassed! Severus realized with amazement as he watched her cut three long slits on the top of her uncooked bread.
            “Freya, you look like you could be Ginny’s older sister.” Tonks snickered. Freya’s blush deepened as she glared at her friend.
            “Oh hush.” Molly chastised. “She looks absolutely adorable. Don’t you agree, Severus?”
            He caught the horrified look that Freya gave the older witch, before she picked up her bread dough, and quickly ducked out of view to stick it into the hot oven. “Naturally.” He said softly. When she rose again, her blush had bloomed scarlet. Before he could say anything else, Charlie Weasley rose to his feet, and pulled out the chair next to him.
            “Here, Freya. Sit by me, won’t you?”
            It was very difficult not to scowl at the young wizard, particularly when he reached out to brush the bit of flour off of Freya’s nose with his fingertips. She smiled indulgently at him, and sat down across from Severus, who immediately poured a cup of tea and handed it to her, brushing her fingers with his own when she took it gratefully. Lupin was grinning at them, clearly amused by this tiny interaction.
            “You used to wear tattered stockings and green eyeshadow.” Tonks said teasingly to her friend, who smirked.
            “And you used to wear those great clunking boots that always tripped you up.”
            “Ha! She still wears those.” Lupin said with a grin.
            There was a heavy pounding on the door, and Tonks leapt to her feet, sending her chair crashing to the floor. A blood curdling scream made everyone wince painfully as the portrait of Mrs. Black howled upstairs, awoken from her slumber. Lupin rushed upstairs to quiet her as Tonks blushed, apologizing profusely to anyone who would listen. When the din finally settled, she left to answer the door.
            Freya began to giggle in a high pitched, alarming sort of way. She had jumped terribly at the noise. Everyone stared at her for a moment as her voice rose to a nearly hysterical octave. She struggled to calm herself, but Severus frowned at the way her hands trembled terribly when she lifted her cup of tea to her lips.
            “Freya…what’s happened?” He asked quietly. She shook her head sharply, like she was shaking off a fly.
“You haven’t still been taking Somnium Tenebris, have you?” There was a hard edge to Sirius’ voice, and her eyes darted to her brother’s empty seat. She seemed to relax when she saw he was not there.
            “She knows better than to take that swill.” Molly snorted in disgust, then narrowed her eyes at the embarrassed look on Freya’s face. “You’re not, are you?”
She shook her head again, but refused to meet their eyes. Severus grimaced, then spoke softly.
            “It’s all right Freya. You don’t need to be ashamed. I know how comforting it is to be able to sleep without fear of your own dreams.”
            “Nasty stuff, Somnium Tenebris.” Charlie added sagely. “There’s a wing on the fourth floor of Saint Mungo’s for people who couldn’t break the habit. Drink too much of it and it leaves you susceptible to all sorts of dark magic. You could very well fall asleep and stay that way for the rest of your life.” There was a collective shudder.
          “Not that it’s anyone’s business,” Freya slammed her cup a little too hard down on the table. “But I haven’t taken it since....” She trailed off and looked up at Severus, and he understood. He had once given her a series of potions to ease her symptoms after she’d been poisoned, and then they had made love in his chambers.
            “Young lady…” Molly said dangerously, as if addressing her daughter “We care about you very much, and if you’re doing yourself harm…”
            “I assure you Molly, that Freya has not touched it.” A calm, clear voice interrupted her, and they all looked up at Albus Dumbledore, who had quietly entered the kitchen. Lupin and Tonks followed swiftly, and seated themselves as Albus took his place at the head of the table. “I am afraid I cannot stay for dinner, Molly. I have some rather unpleasant news.” He looked apologetically at Freya, who winced. Everyone watched Albus nervously as he reached inside his plum colored travelling cloak, and withdrew a small parcel, wrapped in brown paper and butcher’s twine. Severus grimaced as the headmaster placed it on the table, for the package gave off a very pungent, deeply unpleasant coppery smell. “This was sent to my office.” Freya shuddered in revulsion, and was the only person who did not watch as Albus drew his wand, and tapped the parcel lightly with the tip. The paper peeled away in thin, grisly layers until the thing inside was revealed.
            “Is that…is that a heart?” Charlie asked in amazement and disgust. Molly gave a tiny shriek, and Arthur turned a very delicate shade of green. Severus eyed the lump of flesh, which sat heavily like a blotchy, disfigured toad in front of him. As he stared at the slightly shriveled mass, a horrible icy dread trickled down his spine. There was a hole in it, about the size of his thumbnail, and he glanced back up at Freya, who was now glaring steadily at it. Shaking his head in disgust, he drew his silver flask from his pocket, and handed it across the table to her. She gave him a wry, thankful grin, and took a long swig from it. Her hands no longer trembled.
            “Yes. “ Dumbledore said quietly. “I believe it to be the heart of Lucas Frend. Am I correct, Miss Lupin?” Freya nodded silently.
            “Bloody hell.” Sirius whispered.
            “While I do not condone that particular phrase, I’m afraid I must agree.” Said Dumbledore.
            “Why would anyone…why would…” Molly stuttered.
            “It’s for me.” Freya said softly.
            “Correct.” Dumbledore replied. “It came with a note, written in a very ancient Slavic language. It roughly translated to ‘Death to the she-bitch.’”
            There was a moment of silence, then Sirius gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Oh that is just rich.” Severus glared at him, but to his astonishment, Freya began to laugh too. Dumbledore frowned at them. Charlie stammered something about “being right back” and made a dash from the kitchen. The door slammed, followed by the sound of vomiting. Sirius laughed even harder as Molly swept from the kitchen to look after her son.
            “Care to explain what’s so funny?” Severus asked bitingly as Sirius wiped a tear of mirth from his eye.
            “Oh nothing at all, Snivellus. Let them send their little notes. Let them send all the body parts they want. Freya’s safe here, with me.”
            This last statement made him feel sicker than the stench of the long dead heart in front of him, which had clearly been preserved somehow. Freya shot him a rueful smile, but said nothing.
            “Severus, I want you to take this.” Albus continued. “Take it, and study it. If it’s possible, I’d like you and Freya to brew a malignum praesidium potion. I believe it will come in handy.”
            The oven dinged, and Freya jumped up to retrieve her bread from its magically heated womb. They all stared at her, but if Dumbledore’s orders had any effect on her, she refused to show it. Malignum praesidium was a very dark, and very dangerous potion. If made, it would provide incredible psychic protection for the drinker, but it required the flesh of an enemy, as well as the blood of a lover. If made incorrectly, its fumes were toxic and would inflict madness upon anyone who breathed it. If it was off, it became a terrible poison. Voldemort’s regeneration potion had been a sort of bastardization of such a draught, but most wizards were not foolish enough to even try such a brew. Severus nodded, pleased that Dumbledore had such confidence in his abilities, but felt a twinge of foreboding.
            “Well, I am afraid I must be off!” Albus said, smiling apologetically at them as he drew his wand. With a deft flourish, the grotesque trophy on the table was suddenly encased in a large, glass container, and as they watched, harsh smelling fluid trickled inside of it, until the heart floated and bobbed within. Then Dumbledore sealed it up, and stood to leave. “I wish you all an excellent dinner! Do give Molly my kindest regards!” He beamed, then swiftly turned to leave. They all stared at the heart, their appetites completely lost. The only creature who was not highly perturbed was Trigul, who yawned broadly.
            Freya’s lips twitched into a strange sort of manic grin that did not meet her eyes. Gingerly, she leaned across the table and picked up the heavy glass jar. “I’ll just…set this somewhere else, shall I?”
            “The library should work just fine.” Sirius mused, distastefully.
            “I’ll assist you.” Severus said rising abruptly and earning a fierce glare from Black. “Here, Arthur. This might help.” He thrust his silver flask into Mr. Weasley’s hands, and he nodded gratefully, still looking as though he might be ill.
            Freya waited for him in the hallway, her arms wrapped around the heart. He offered to take it for her and she gave him a half smile. When they were safely away from the others, Freya closed the door behind them as Severus set the awful specimen on a desk where it seemed to glow ominously in the dim light. When he turned, she was there, and she threw her arms around his neck, pulling him down into a desperate kiss. He gasped heatedly into her mouth, clutching the back of her sweater as if holding on for dear life as she moaned urgently, and when they finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against hers and whispered her name. She smoothed her hands down his chest and bit her lip in a worried expression.
            “Are you alright?” He asked gently. She nodded, but he knew it was a lie.
            “Are you?”
            “Yes…” He hesitated, then decided that perhaps honesty was best under the circumstances. “I saw you at the quidditch match today.” She winced, but did not pull away. Severus scowled, feeling sick again.
“You were spying on me?” She asked carefully, lifting an eyebrow. He nodded curtly, and turned away, trying to hide his face.
“I only said that I saw you. I was sitting with the Malfoys.”
She winced at the name. “Did you see me with Narcissa?”
“Yes.” The word sounded bitterer than he’d anticipated.
“You heard her proposition?”
“Naturally.” He felt a rush of anger. Narcissa had asked Freya to run off to join the dark Lord, to put herself in even more peril, and what was worse…his fists clenched, thinking about the way Narcissa had reached out to touch her.
“Oh dear. Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Severus.”
            Snape stiffened, then turned back to her with an aloof expression as she drew closer. He could see her eyes shining with exasperation and amusement.
“I most certainly am not.” He said, highly annoyed by this observation, yet unable to prevent his body from reacting physically to her presence. She was so warm, and she smelled incredible. He was painfully aware of how close she was as she reached down and slipped her hand into his.
            “You are.” She stated fondly. “There’s no need. I have no intention of seeing her again if I can help it. Narcissa’s given me all she could.”
            “How do you know?”
            “I just know.” She muttered darkly. “You may use legilimency if you still don’t trust me.”
            “Of course I do.” He said, unable to keep from wincing as he said it.
            “Severus Snape.” She chastised him gently. “As long as we are lovers, I swear that no one else shall come between us. Not even for Sean. Not even for the Order. That’s not how I do things. If you don’t believe me…”
            “Of course I believe you. How can I not believe you? I saw what happened.” He relented, feeling some relief. Her voice sounded genuine. “It was not my intention to spy on you. I was following Narcissa and did not want her to see me. Freya, you cannot keep doing this. You’re going to get yourself hurt.” His voice cracked as he smoothed his fingers through her hair. Unable to resist, he licked his lips, and swooped down for another kiss, trying to pour himself into her, trying to plead with her to stop searching, to let it go. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed him back for several long moments until she broke it with a sigh. “Please stop searching for trouble like this.”
            “Not yet. I need to talk to Lucius.” She whispered.
            “Absolutely not. I don’t want you anywhere near the Malfoys.” He tried to sound forceful, but there was a desperate edge to his voice. She smiled painfully at him, and he knew it was no use. Hufflepuffs were such stubborn creatures.
            “And I don’t want you going to those deatheater meetings.”
            His chest tightened at the truth of these words. “Please. Please, Freya.” He kissed her again, urgently, hoping he could somehow persuade her with his lips, but when he pulled away she was looking at him with a determination he knew only too well.
            “There’s a war coming. You may have things figured out, but I need to know who my enemy is.”
            “We have only one enemy, and we will fight him together.” Severus grasped her by the shoulders, and surprised himself by pulling her in for a fierce hug that lasted several long moments. When they pulled apart he frowned down at her. “Have you ever brewed Malignum praesidium?”
            “No. Honestly, I’d never even heard of it.”
            “If we brew it together, and all goes well, you will never need fear possession again. Your defenses will be fortified, and no such spirit will be able to touch you.” A strange look passed over Freya’s face at the memory of the Succubus that had once lived inside of her body. They had not really discussed it openly since the day he’d saved her from it, but he knew that the thought of being exposed to such darkness again frightened her.
            “I still hear its voice sometimes.” She whispered, more to herself than to him. Then to his surprise, she smiled. “Do you realize that we’re still technically married?” He lifted an eyebrow in amusement as she continued. “Seven weeks came and went. What do you want to do?”
            “Filing for divorce at this stage would only alert unwelcome bureaucrats to our situation. I say let them rot. We’ll figure it out when the war’s over.”
            She glared at him sharply. “Married life not agreeing with you?”
            “Don’t be…” He stopped and stared at her. “Have I offended you?” He laughed at the blush that crept across her cheeks, and then offered her his arm. “Very well, come along, wife. Let’s not keep the mob waiting.”
            Dinner was surprisingly excellent, considering they’d all been more than a little put off their appetites by Dumbledore’s gruesome delivery. When Molly flicked her wand, a heavy cauldron of simmering lamb stew was levitated onto the middle of the table. It was rich, and heavy with a complicated array of spices, a fact that rather surprised several of the men at the table. Molly was an excellent cook, but they had always come to expect exceedingly English flavors from her. Freya busied herself by pouring several tall pints of dark foaming beer, which she quickly pressed into everyone’s hands, glaring sharply at anyone who tried to protest. When their fingers touched around the glass, Severus felt the sudden urge to pull her into his lap and kiss her on the cheek, the way he’d seen Arthur do with Molly more than once.
            “Molly, this is excellent.” Arthur praised, raising his glass to her.
            “Yeah mum. Really good.” Charlie agreed, still looking slightly ill.
            “Oh no dear, I’m just helping Freya. She cooked everything.” Molly smiled fondly at the younger woman, who blushed as Molly began cutting up fat slices of bread for everyone.
            “I was trying to give you a night off, you silly witch.”
            Molly pursed her lips, trying to keep from smiling as Freya teased her.
            “Freya, you’re not thinking about becoming domesticated are you?” Tonks teased, giggling when Freya balled up a cloth napkin and chucked it at her, hitting her square in the face.
            “I can still take you on.” She said as she finally took her seat.
            “Anytime, anywhere, you great bloody slag.” Tonks replied with a mischievous grin.
            “Where did you learn to cook, Freya?” Sirius asked, taking a long swig of beer.
            “From mum.” She said shrugging offhandedly. There was a moment of silence. Lupin considered her sadly, then seemed to consider saying something, but clearly thought better of it.
            The conversation grew more boisterous as the evening drew on. Everyone wanted to know what was happening at Hogwarts. Dolores Umbridge was tightening her grip as grand inquisitor, and every time her name was mentioned, there was angry muttering. Molly was extremely worried, having already warned her children that they were not under any circumstances to join any secret organizations. They all knew that the golden trio was organizing meetings to practice Defensive spells, but nobody had any idea how they were actually doing it. More than once, Snape caught Freya smirking into her glass of porter and he knew that she was immensely proud of her former students.
            “Dumbledore expects the ministry to force him out any day now.” He mused darkly. This caused several to scoff in disbelief. “Professor Trelawney has already been sacked and replaced by a centaur called Firenze“
            “Firenze?” Freya finished for him, clearly surprised. “Firenze is teaching at Hogwarts?”
            “Blimey.” Tonks chimed in. “Isn’t that the centaur you used to bully into posing for you?”
            “Ha! You would.” Sirius chuckled, clearly amused.
            “Do you mean to tell me…” Severus drawled “That when you were a student, you went into the forbidden forest, a place full of dark creatures to draw centaurs?”
            “Don’t you start!” She snapped. “I had Hagrid with me at the time. It was perfectly safe.”
            “Merlin, you were reckless.” Lupin shook her head, smiling somewhat sadly.
            “’Were?’” Severus repeated, pointedly. Freya glared at him, and suddenly he felt something brush his mind, like a cool finger against his forehead. Lifting an eyebrow, he stared into her eyes and thought ‘legilimens.’
            She is opening a package from Madam Malkin, and smiles as she pulls the slip over her head and runs her hands over the plum colored silk. It’s a frivolous thing, she knows, but after a year spent in a cold cell, she longs for softness. The lingerie is edged in black lace, and embraces her curves like a lover. Unbidden, the image of a tall, dark potions master flickers through her mind, and wetness blooms between her thighs as she thinks of their meeting in Nocturne Alley. She can still feel his hot breath on her skin, and his words, cruel and smoldering still burn in her ears. Closing her eyes, she imagines touching that silky black hair, remembering his fingers slipping past the hem of her skirt. A fire is kindled deep inside her belly.
            Severus snapped quickly back to reality, and averted his gaze, his trousers now uncomfortably tight over his erection. Freya’s lips twitched slightly, but she was looking at Tonks who was now telling a story about the time Mad Eye Moody made another Auror nearly piss himself. Legilimens, he thought again.
            She is wearing the lingerie beneath her robes in the great hall, incredibly aware of how close he is as he sits next to her, and arousal is driving her mad. They’ve been playing games with each other, and they both know it. She wonders what he would do if she slipped into his office and disrobed, but thinks he would simply turn her away for his own amusement. Later that night, she tosses and turns, unable to sleep, desire pulsating hotly through her nervous system, and she madly considers running to the dungeons and begging him to release her from this torment.
            Freya broke the connection this time, watching lazily over the rim of her glass as she took a sip. He was careful not to stare back as he rested his elbow on the table, tracing his lips thoughtfully before giving her the slightest hint of a nod, giving her permission to peak into his own mind. She set her glass down, and they made eye contact once again.
            Severus, being the more formidable occlumens, gifts her with a fantasy he’s been harboring for quite some time. They are in his chambers, and he is drawing a length of silk irresistibly over her eyes, effectively blindfolding her. His fingers trace her spine, making her shiver, and he takes his time exploring every inch of her with his mouth before lowering her onto a nest of blankets in front of a crackling fire. When they make love, it is not gentle, but hard and pulsating, yet it is making love nonetheless.
            Suddenly the scene shifts, hard and unnatural. Severus looks wildly about. This is not his mind. He looks down and realizes that he is in Freya’s body. There is snow, so white that it glows. There is a sound like wings beating the air, so loud she covers her ears. A murder of crows, black as pitch, burst in front of her in an explosion of raucous caws, filling her sight with feathers and shining black orbs and they’re scratching her, pecking at her naked flesh. It’s a whirlwind of sound. She can feel the tattoos on her arms and legs burn white hot and the pain is exquisite, terrible yet pleasurable, but before she reaches what might be orgasm, the crows drop suddenly, and lie dead at her feet. A man stands before her. His skin is impossibly white, his hair and beard the same bloody red as her own, but his eyes are all wrong. They are so pale they are unnerving. He reaches for her, but she pulls away. He is all wrong. His lips silently form a word she cannot hear, and he draws a sharp bone dagger.
            There was a crash. Freya had risen sharply, sending her chair toppling to the floor, and she was staring at Severus in horror as he gaped at her.
            “That…that wasn’t mine.” He whispered in alarm. The others stared at them in shock. “I…I’m sorry.” Snape stammered, watching her face grow pale.
“I have to go. I have to go now.” She breathed.
            “Freya what’s happening? Are you ill?” Remus stood, concern etched on his face. Tonks kept looking from Freya to Lupin, and Charlie looked as if he was waiting for someone to explain a very strange inside joke. Before anyone could say anything else, Freya bolted from the kitchen, slamming the door behind her. Snape rose to follow, but felt a strong hand gripping his shoulder and spinning him around furiously. Sirius grasped him by the front of his shirt, and lifted him bodily, snarling into his face.
            “What the hell did you do, Snivellus?”
            “Sirius, he didn’t do anything, we were all here!” Lupin rushed between them, and flung an arm across Sirius’ chest, pushing him back.
            “He did something. I know he did.”
            “Save it, Black. It wouldn’t be good manners to hex me before the week is over.” Snape replied scathingly, his eyes boring into the animagus with pure loathing. We were flirting, he thought angrily. We were flirting and then…
            “Get out of my house.” Sirius barked. “I never want to see you here again, do you hear me, Snape? I don’t care what Dumbledore says. You’re gone.”
            Scowling darkly, Severus turned and left, slamming the door even more loudly than Freya had, awaking the portrait of Mrs. Black as he did so. The others began to argue furiously with one another, but Snape’s eyes lingered on the staircase, wondering if he should go after her. Fear clutched at his chest yet again as he grabbed his traveling cloak, swiftly walked back into the library to retrieve the heart Dumbledore had asked him to study, and left Grimmauld Place, wondering if it was for the last time.
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Spy vs. Spy