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
- 19
- 20
- 21
When he opened his eyes, Treijgul was wriggling free from his grasp. He watched as the cat leapt from his arms, and sauntered off with the unwavering confidence of a creature that knows exactly where it’s going. Snape glowered, but dutifully followed him up a small hillside that crunched, grey with hoarfrost. This wood was very dark and ominous. Its trees were thick rooted and twisted, but they glistened silver with fresh snow and icicles as long as a man’s arm. When he reached the other side, he saw a tavern nestled between the slope and a thicket of enormous firs, like something from a dystopian Christmas card. Smoke billowed from its chimney, alluring him with the prospect of warmth, but it was decidedly not the quaint fairy cottage that one might find in a children’s book. He paused when he reached the door. Several runes had been roughly carved into the wood, and he had no way of knowing what they meant. Snape didn’t even know what country he was in, let alone what kind of establishment he was attempting to enter.
The tea Trelawney had given him had made him feel strangely confident, but now he hesitated. Somehow, he knew that his wife was behind the door. He could sense her, the same way he could sometimes sense when one of his students was glaring at the back of his head. A niggling part of him wanted to kick the door open and demand to see her, like the hero of a two knut paperback, but he remained still, determined to solve this dilemma with cunning. If only his heart would stop it’s incessant pounding. The cold Slytherin couldn’t help himself. A terrible thought crept into his brain like a slippery poison. What if she no longer wants her absentee husband? Or worse…what if she’s taken a new lover? Severus cringed, knowing that it was entirely possible. Freya was still young, and not unpleasant to look at. The air here was sharp and freezing. A warm bed and a warm person to share it with would be particularly inviting. It was only too easy for Snape to imagine a Charlie Weasley type character in a stupid sweater making advances on his Freya, winning her with freckly smiles. He gritted his teeth, pushed the thoughts away, and lifted his fist to knock.
Before contact could be made, there was a soft sort of whistling sound behind him. Instinctively, he ducked behind an immense tree, and watched as a handsome wizard with thick, curly brown hair touched down to earth, and dismounted his broom. The stranger was as muscular as a chaser, and ruggedly handsome, with violently green eyes. A thin cigarette dangled from his lips, giving him a roguish sort of look, and his collar was turned up to ward off the chill. The wizard came very close to Severus’ hiding place, and without thinking, he drew his wand, and whispered, “Stupefy.” The stranger grunted softly as the spell hit him squarely between the shoulder blades, and crumpled to the ground like wet parchment.
Severus quickly looked to make sure no one else was around, then seized the wizard beneath the arms, and dragged him behind the fir. “I apologize for this, but there’s no way in hell I’m walking in there without some protection.” He muttered to the unconscious man before plucking out a few of his hairs, uncorked his vial of polyjuice potion, and sprinkled them in. He had grabbed the potion from his laboratory without truly knowing why. Thank Merlin for strong instincts. “Your arrival is far too convenient, my friend.” He reached into the man’s coat pocket, and retrieved his wallet. “If we meet again, I shall pay you back, but for now, Obliviate.” He pressed his wand to the man’s temple and watched him slump forward. Severus was about to walk away, then after a moment, turned and muttered a quick heating charm. Severus could be an unfeeling bastard at times, but he was not keen to let the man freeze to death.
He took one large gulp of potion. Some people caused polyjuice to taste absolutely foul. This one tasted rather like coriander. Snape grimaced at the strange feeling of flesh melting and shifting into its new form. He watched his fingers shorten, and become more calloused. The clothes he wore tightened uncomfortably, as his new frame filled out, becoming less wiry, broader shouldered and slightly more muscular. A strangely bitter thought occurred to him. Freya might even prefer this body. Snape shook his head, then scowled at the unfamiliar sensation of suddenly having short hair. He ran his fingers through his scalp as he stalked toward the door of the tavern once again, but it just didn’t feel right.
When he knocked, a huge man with a ruddy complexion and blond hair answered almost immediately. His enormous moustache twitched into something like a grin. “Klaus! Velkomin!” Snape smiled and nodded politely. The man lifted an eyebrow at his lack of response, but stepped aside, gesturing for him to come in.
The room was packed, and far larger than it had appeared on the outside. His dark eyes flickered across the room, searching for dark red hair, but there were several redheaded wizards here, and very few witches of any sort. An enormous bar stretched along the far wall, and it appeared to have been crafted from hundreds of deer antlers. Fires burned hot in immense braziers, for which he was exceedingly grateful, and the patrons were all drinking from enormous tankards. The air was thick with the smell of pipe smoke and roasting meat. He felt as if he’d suddenly travelled back in time. It would not have surprised him to see someone swinging a battle axe. He felt the warmth thawing out his cold bones in the most delicious way as he looked surreptitiously around.
There was much commotion in the center of the hall, and many of the patrons had their backs turned to him, watching something that Severus could not see. Great shouts of surprise would occasionally make the nearby furniture vibrate with energy. Clearly some sort of sporting event was going on. There was a sudden pause in the din, and Snape could see the glinting of coins as they changed hands. A bearded man in a thickly knit sweater offered him a tray, and Snape gratefully took a large steaming pint of what turned out to be some sort of mulled wine. After tossing the man a coin, he sipped his drink and cautiously maneuvered his way through the crowd to get a closer look, being careful not to bump into any of the men, for most of them were quite large.
And there she was.
His eyes widened as his heart did a funny sort of leap. A small cry of horror tore from his throat, but it went unnoticed in the din. The woman he loved was sitting on a stool at the far end of the ring of shouting wizards, and she was bleeding from the lip. An elderly man was attempting to heal it with his wand, but she waved him away impatiently. She was wearing black trousers, but wore no shoes, and was nearly topless apart from a sort of strappy athletic bustier that wrapped around her chest. Snape felt a heated sensation he had not experienced in months as he stared at her bare skin, which gleamed with sweat, but he could not be distracted. She looked terrible, but her eyes gleamed with determination. Her knuckles were heavily bandaged, and he soon saw why. Across from her was a lean, shirtless wizard, who appeared equally battered. He was laughing with his friends, and taking large swigs of some clear alcohol that smelled like something Madam Pomfrey might have used to disinfect cuts. They were openly jeering at Freya, making rude gestures that transcended any language barrier. “Viltu dansa vio mig?” He called out to her, reaching down and grabbing a handful of his own crotch. Severus scowled darkly. The other men laughed. Freya smiled. Blood stained her teeth. Severus felt ill at the sight.
            “Ja.” She said, chuckling mirthlessly. They stood, and regarded each other as the crowd shouted encouragement.
            Snape couldn’t help but lift an eyebrow at the subtle ways her physique had changed. Freya had always been rather soft around the edges, but this was hardly the case now. Her body was harder now, her cheekbones sharper, and the muscles in her arms more defined. She wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth with the back of a bandaged hand, and winked at her opponent in a mocking sort of way. The wizard grinned back arrogantly, and they began to circle each other slowly, mirroring each other’s steps perfectly. He twirled his wand skillfully across his fingers, almost lazily, brimming with confidence, and he looked as though he was about to say something insulting when she lashed out, as quickly as a viper, slashing his bare chest with a well-placed curse. The wizard grunted with pain and humiliation, then charged. He grabbed her around the waist, bringing her to the floor with a loud thud. It took every ounce of control for Severus to stop himself from cursing the wizard’s unprotected back, but he doubted his fellow onlookers would welcome such interference. The crowd screamed its approval. Freya gasped as the wind was knocked from her, but hooked her legs around her opponent’s knees, and relied on leverage, rather than strength to flip him onto his back and straddle him in a way that might have seemed sexual, had she not backhanded him with a closed fist, her wand clenched in her teeth. The crowd screamed again.
Snape stared, open-mouthed as they continued to fight with a brutality that he had never seen among wizardkind. This was hardly an English duel, which was almost always a gentlemen’s brawl, much like fencing. What he was seeing was far more primal, with elements of muggle dueling. They fired spells at one another with ferocity, aiming to cause true bodily harm, but it was not uncommon for either to throw in a sharp jab when the opportunity arose. Severus was amazed when the wizard shook off a nasty stinging jinx like it was nothing, even as his lip swelled up three times its usual size. He found himself shouting angrily when he retaliated by grabbing a fistful of Freya’s hair, and punching her squarely in the jaw. Several others booed and hissed, but it was clear that she would receive no quarter due to her gender. She staggered for a moment, but managed to dodge a curse that flew past her head, striking the wall and bouncing back, hitting a bystander in the back of the head. The bystander shrieked as boils broke out across his skin, and Freya’s opponent was momentarily distracted, giving her the window she needed.
She lashed out with a nasty kick to his gut, and it made a sound like a brick hitting a raw slab of meat. He doubled over in pain, and she brought her elbow down swiftly onto the small of his back. The wizard fell with a sharp cry, and she kicked him again, this time in the face, clearly wanting to end this fight quickly. There was a sickening crunch, and blood began to pool from his mouth and nose. When the man tried to struggle to his feet, she kicked him again in the stomach, making him curl up like a bloody shrimp. With the toe of her boot, she rolled him over, and smirked down at him. His face was a mess. Several teeth were cracked.
            “Takk fyrir dans.” She said wearily, snatching the bottle of vodka from one of the men who had laughed at her earlier and giving him a look that dared him to protest. The room erupted into roars of approval, but also groans of disappointment. More money changed hands as she took a lengthy swig, and spat some of it onto the floor as the opponent was dragged off. The enormous, red-faced man who had answered the door lumbered into the ring, and held Freya’s arm aloft, declaring her the victor, resulting in more hollering from the onlookers. She gave the man a bloody, lopsided grin as he tossed her a sack, bulging with coins. Then, it was time for the next two fighters to duel.
            Severus followed as Freya inched her way through the crowd, wizards clapping her on the back and offering their congratulations. He was not the only one. One of the men who’d jeered at her was close behind, and he was watching her with an expression that he did not like one bit. Snape warily took a seat nearby, and watched intently. This wizard was young, hardly older than his seventh year students, with dirty blond hair and a sneer that reminded him of Draco. Freya sat heavily at the bar with a groan. The barwoman, an elderly witch with a face that might have been carved from wood, poured her a vodka and slid it to her. Freya smiled at her gratefully, raised her glass and said “Skál.” She was about to take a swig, when the blond wizard clamped a hand onto her shoulder so hard that her drink sloshed, and she began to choke and sputter on the hard alcohol. Severus fingered his wand from inside his coat pocket, ready to come to her aid in an instant.
            “You cost me too much. You give half.”
            Freya wiped her mouth with the back of a bandaged hand, gave the wizard an enigmatic look, then began to laugh with genuine amusement. “Piss off. This is no place for little boys.”
            The wizard growled, and attempted to spin her forcibly around, but in a flash, her wand was out, and it was centimeters away from piercing him in his eyeball. Her other hand was wrapped around the neck of the half empty vodka bottle, as if she was ready to swing it at his skull, which Snape suspected she was. She hissed something that he could not hear. The young man tried very hard to look unscathed, but he licked his lips uncertainly, clearly realizing his mistake. Alarmingly, two of his friends came rushing over, but to Severus’ surprised, they actually yanked him away, muttering harsh words and slapping their friend on the back of his head. Then one of them bowed deeply to Freya and murmured a feverish apology. Severus caught the word “Volva,” and thought perhaps he understood. Clearly in the short time Freya had been awake, she had gained some sort of respect in this small, frigid land. Freya sneered in an almost Slytherin way, then turned back to the bar, and downed the rest of her vodka in one swig as the barwoman chuckled. Before Freya could raise a hand to pour another, Severus slid to the stool next to her and said, “Allow me. Please.”
            Her eyebrows shot up in surprise when he leaned across to fill her glass. His nostrils twitched at the coppery scent of blood, but the sudden warmth that radiated from her skin soaked through the material of his cloak. Only too late did he realize the buttons on his coat sleeve had the Slytherin crest stamped into them, but when he sat back, she was looking him right in the eyes. Severus flinched beneath the steadiness of that gaze, and wondered for a moment if she could see right through his disguise, but her lips curled into that feline grin that always had a way of making him feel both very hot and very cold at the same time. Unconsciously, he licked his lips, longing to swoop in and kiss her, in spite of her battered appearance. “Much obliged. English?” He nodded. “You’re far from home.” Snape grinned in spite of himself. He was about to be interrogated. This was a game he knew all too well.
            “So are you.” He replied softly. She lifted an eyebrow and gave him a wry grin.
            “Guilty.” She swallowed her vodka in three great gulps. He watched the movement of her throat as it went down. Freya was clearly putting on a brave front, treating him like a stranger. This was torture. He wanted to take her into his arms and never let go, but Severus had no idea how or when to reveal himself.
“Where did you learn to fight like that?” He asked, finally.
            “Here and there.” She said with a tiny indifferent shrug. He ached to touch her, but he was alarmed by the state of her. Her eye had begun to swell shut, and her lip was cracked and bloody. “That looks painful. Please, allow me to heal your wounds, miss…” He hesitated.
            “Brona.” She lied. “And no thank you.” Her gaze was mistrustful. She’d noticed him staring at the thin tattoo that now adorned her bottom lip, and clearly she did not appreciate being ogled. He averted his gaze.
            “I see. That man you fought. What did he do to deserve such a beating?”
            “Nothing at all. It was our turn.” She lifted an eyebrow inquisitively. “They draw names. And here I’d thought I’d seen you here before. I must have been mistaken.”
            “Ah…no, you’re not mistaken. I’m friendly with the innkeeper.” In his mind, they were dueling, this time with words. He hoped he had deflected her observation.
            “Oh? You have business with Annfin?” There was a hint of skepticism in her voice.
            “Something like that.” He lied. “How long have you been staying here?” His heart thudded painfully. It frightened him to see her acting so at home in this strange land. Perhaps she had never intended to return to him.
            “Longer than I care to admit.” She said quietly, studying him over the rim of her glass. He quickly took a swig of his mulled wine, and knew that he was doing a shit job of making conversation. Questions burned inside of his head, but every word he uttered seemed to be making her trust him less and less. The spices were heavy, and the wine was strong enough to go to his head. This was not the elf made wine he was used to. This vintage was thick as blood and as potent as any firewhiskey. He did a quick calculation in his head, and decided that the polyjuice potion he’d taken would last at least another forty five minutes before he needed another dose. Part of him hoped he’d slip up. An accidental reveal might be easier than an intentional one. Coward, a voice whispered in his mind. You’ve been missing her, dreaming about her for all this time, and now you’re too frightened to show yourself. “You’re staring. Was there something you wanted?” She sounded vaguely annoyed.
            “I...well…I don’t…” He stammered, taken aback by her blunt rebuttal. “You’re very pretty.” Snape blurted out, then grimaced with horror at his own awkwardness. Freya stared at him as though he’d sprouted a second head. “The loveliest thing in here, if I may be so bold.” He feebly attempted to regain some ground. Freya snorted with disbelief, and he understood why. At the moment, she was probably feeling anything but “lovely.”
            “I’m not for sale.” She said sharply. “If it’s company you want, you’re in the wrong tavern.”
            “That’s not what I meant.” He said sheepishly, berating himself for acting so foolish. “You…duel very well. You’re excellent, in fact. Unpredictable.”
            “Thank you.” She said uncertainly.
            “But I do wonder why you feel it necessary to hide your talent in such a remote place. Wouldn’t you feel safer at home?” This question had the opposite effect than he had intended. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
            “You know, I think I’m done answering questions.” She rose to leave, and he held his hands out as if to stop her, but did not touch her, for she looked as if she would hex him in an instant if he so much as laid a finger on her.
            “I’m sorry, Fr…” He stopped, and corrected himself Freya’s eyes widened ever so slightly. “Miss. Brona, I apologize if I’ve offended you. It’s just that you…” He swallowed hard. “Remind me of someone. If it’s not too much trouble, I have been without a decent conversation for quite some time. You interest me. That is all.”
            “I see.” Her voice relaxed ever so slightly. She gazed at him for a moment, chewing her lip in a way that made him shiver. “Apology accepted.” She sat back down, and winced with pain. “You know, on second thought, I think I could use a spot of healing, if you would be so kind.”
            Nodding, he drew his wand and whispered “Scourgify.” Instantly, her face was cleansed of blood. He touched the tip to her swollen jaw, and she sighed in relief as the swelling went down, and the ugly mottled color disappeared. He did the same with her eye, and the cut on her temple, though it left a very faint scar. Finally, she blinked, and gave him a genuine smile that made his heart stop. Her face was once again intact, flushed from the fight, but so marvelously familiar to him. It suddenly felt as if he had swallowed a bottle of live billywigs. His chest was tight with the effort of keeping his emotions in check, as if his ribcage was now a floodgate to his heart. He had to make a fist to keep himself from reaching up to tuck the stray lock of hair behind her ear. If only he hadn’t taken that stupid potion. “That’s better.” He whispered, his voice cracking.
            “Thank you. You haven’t told me your name.” She said with an enigmatic look. Snape winced momentarily, but remembered the name the innkeeper had used.
            “Klaus.”
            “Hm. An Englishman with a German name.” Freya mused softly, lifting one eyebrow. Inwardly, Severus cursed himself for the tiny slip up. He’d forgotten how good she was at this game.
            “Is that strange?”
            “Not unless you think it is.”
            Bollocks, he thought. She was toying with him now.
            “No stranger than finding an intelligent, talented young woman in this tundra. Seems like wasted potential.”
            “Perhaps I’m just biding my time.”
            “Squandering it, more like.” He snorted derisively. “Don’t you have family, somewhere?”
            “I do, now that you mention it.” She said, sounding annoyed.
            “But here you are, hiding away with your head in the snow.”
            “Did you come over here to insult me?” She demanded, throwing him a sharp glare before downing another vodka.
            “How long have you been living here, Brona?” He asked again determinedly. Severus felt that he deserved some answers.
            “I don’t know.” Freya said with a sad little smile that seemed suspiciously genuine.
            “How is that possible?” He asked. She shrugged.
            “Maybe I got so blitheringly drunk I blacked out and found myself here, fighting people for money. Stranger things have happened.”
            “And why do you fight them?”
            “Because I’d rather not fuck them.” She grinned at his shocked expression, until he could not help but grin himself. “My options are somewhat limited here.”
            “I have no doubt you’d be an even worthier opponent in the bedchamber than you are in the ring.” He drawled in a low, soft voice.
She blinked, startled by the sudden flirtation, but he was rewarded by a light flush on her pale cheeks. Freya cocked her head at him, looking at him even more intently than before. “Have we met?”
            “I don’t believe so.” He looked into his wine cup, dragging his finger lazily around the rim. When his eyes flickered back to her face, she was watching the motion with a dazed, almost hypnotized expression.
            “Funny.” She began loftily. “You’re beginning to remind me of someone as well.” Her voice was soft and restless. Nervous.
            “Someone dark and handsome, I hope?” He smirked.
            “Snarky and brilliant.” She retorted at once.
            “I’m flattered.”
            “Don’t be.” She bit back. Severus flinched at the sharpness in her voice, as if she had slapped him.
            “Some long lost lover?”
            “You might say that.” She quickly looked away to order another vodka, but Severus caught the fleeting glimpse of emotion written on her face. The barwitch was too busy to notice her, so he poured some of his mulled wine into her empty glass.
            “Here. Try this.” He said softly, then chuckled when she narrowed her eyes at it. “It’s not poisoned, you silly witch.” Freya’s gaze flicked up to his, and once more he felt as though she was attempting to see right through him. He hesitated, wondering if he’d made a mistake, but to his relief she nodded gratefully, and took a sip.
            They lingered like that for some time, letting the wine dull their senses, until the conversation became smoother, and less awkward.
            “Are you married, Klaus?” She asked suddenly, with a drunken smile.
            “No.” He lied, feeling his stomach drop at hearing himself mentioned.
            “All the better for you, then.” Freya murmured into her drink. Snape frowned.
            “You sound bitter.”
            “Not bitter, just…”
            “Hurt. Lonely. I know the feeling.” He lifted his cup to her in a mock sort of cheers, and drained it. Snape knew he should have kept a sharper eye on her, but he was so pleased to finally be immersed in her company again, that he failed to notice that she had begun pouring him more drinks than she was accepting. “Some nasty business brewing back home.” He said silkily, trying to gauge her reaction.
            “So I’ve heard.” She replied nonchalantly.
            “All this nonsense with you-know-who.”
            “I heard the Prophet’s been calling Harry Potter ‘The Chosen One.’”
            “Bollocks.” He spat, without thinking. Snape looked up at her. She was smiling surreptitiously, and she looked perfectly, and utterly kissable. “You really are very pretty, Freya.” He drawled, slurring his words a bit. She stiffened, and the set of her jaw hardened, her smile now frozen. He misinterpreted this as a rejection. “Don’t argue, just take the compliment.”
            “You’re a fine specimen yourself, Klaus.”
            He suddenly felt a hot surge of anger. She was hitting on him, a stranger, without knowing who he really was. “You like this, do you?” Snape made a sweeping gesture at his borrowed body, leering a bit.
            “I’m liking it the more I see it.” She purred softly. He shuddered, and felt his cock stir between his legs, but the words injured him, and the jealousy began to bubble like a simmering cauldron.
            “And what about that long lost lover you won’t speak of?” It was impossible to hide the bitter note from his voice.
            “Why, do you see him here?” Freya asked, with mock surprise, pretending to glance around her. She smoothed a hand onto his knee, and smiled seductively as she gently caressed his thigh. It was like being stroked by a delicious flame. Gods, he hadn’t been touched in so long. She leaned in close, and he felt hot breath on his ear. His eyes rolled up into his head, and he bit back a growl of need. “I have a room upstairs,” She whispered.
            “Good.” He murmured, his voice cracking. Severus could not help but be aroused by her simple seduction, but it also hurt him to be the object of lust, when he was not even wearing his own skin. The Slytherin in him felt a stab of vindictiveness. Perhaps it would be a pleasure to reveal himself after she’d thrown herself at him so wantonly, believing him to be another man. Did loyalty mean nothing to her? Had those sweet words she’d uttered so long ago been lies? I was worried sick about you, Freya. Is this what you’ve been up to? Drinking and fucking other men while the rest of us are fighting dark forces?
            She grasped him by the hand, and drew him irresistibly through the crowd, and up a rickety spiral staircase. Snape couldn’t help but admire the curve of her hips as they swayed enticingly before him, and he briefly considered lowering her to her knees in an act of animalistic passion, and taking her right there on the stairs. That was of course the wine thinking. Snape’s head was fuzzy with the stuff. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to curse her for being unfaithful, though he knew she had made no vows. He wanted to pull her down upon the stairs, and rip off her trousers. She led him to her room, and shut the door with a small click. Snape failed to see her lock it. He glanced around at the tiny living quarters. A single, rough spun blanket was draped across a twin bed. There was no rug upon the hard cedar, nor books or paintings of any kind. It was hard to imagine Freya living in a place so dull.
“Now we’re alone. Finally.” She smiled at him like the cat who ate the canary. “Incarcerous.”
            He gasped in alarm and surprise, but not before she’d cast a silencing charm on the door. Thick black cords wound around his entire body, and he fell heavily to the wooden floor with a loud thud. “There’s no point in struggling. No one will hear you, and even if they did, I assure you no one would care.” She said, half amused as she watched him strain against his bonds. “Here, allow me…” Freya crouched down and heaved him upright, so that he was in a more comfortable seated position with his back leaning against the bedframe. He inhaled deeply. She smelled of sweat and copper, but beneath, her scent was indescribably female. “That’s better, isn’t it?” Her voice was pleasant, but there was definitely an iron edge to it. He remembered his ill-fated duel with Sirius Black in the forbidden forest. She had used the same deceptively kind voice interrogating Lucius Malfoy. Snape watched her through hooded eyelids, feeling a sudden burst of affection, as well as intense, marvelous relief. Of course. He should have known. He grinned saucily at her, fighting back laughter at the flicker of confusion on her face.
            “This isn’t what I had in mind when I came here. Merlin, I forgot how duplicitous you are.”
            “You are implying that I know you.” She said carefully, as though speaking to a very unstable person. “This is not the case, I’m afraid.”
            “Oh, but I beg to differ, my sweet little witch. I know you very well.” Snape chuckled. “You had me worried for a moment, there, but I see you haven’t lost your touch. Very well done. Now if you’d be so kind as to release me…”
            She eyed him somewhat sadly, then sighed. “You’re mad. I don’t know if that makes what I’m about to do easier or harder.”
            “Oh, give it about twenty minutes and you’ll know.” He said slyly.
            “Are you actually trying to flirt?” Freya half chuckled with amazement. “You’re tied up, in case you haven’t noticed.”
            “A favorite past time of yours as well, if I recall correctly.” He winked rakishly. Freya scoffed with disgust. “Come, closer darling and I’d be happy to remind you. You’ve been exceedingly naughty.” Severus smirked when she blushed, just a little, but her expression had hardened.
            “Your arrogance is truly astounding, Klaus, but if you don’t mind, I have a few questions that need answering.” She moved closer, and pressed the tip of her wand beneath his chin, forcing him to tilt his head up. “Now, who are you really?”
            “No one important. Just a very lonely man.” He said softly, lifting an eyebrow.
            “You called me ‘Freya,’ earlier. Where did you hear that name?’” She asked icily, crouching down to his level. Snape hung his head for a moment, cursing his stupid mistake. Whatever was in that wine had clearly robbed him of his senses. When he looked back up, he found himself gazing into a pair of very wide, very blue eyes. They were so close. He could almost taste her lips. His own mouth puckered a bit, unconsciously seeking her warmth. Gods, he had missed this. Noticing the subtle motion, she jerked away in surprise. “What the hell…?”
            “Kiss me, and I’ll tell you everything.” Severus breathed, his eyes glinting playfully. “Kiss me and I promise to make you weak with pleasure.” He simply couldn’t resist teasing her. Freya’s face contorted with contempt, and she smacked him sharply across the face. He chuckled, which seemed to enrage her even further.
            “You seem woefully unaware of the situation you’re in.” Freya growled, pressing her wand tip hard into the soft spot beneath his chin.
            “And here I thought you were starting to like me.” He gave her his most luscious sneer. “What’s the matter, darling? Don’t I get your knickers in a twist? Come on love. Give us a taste. You have no idea how much I’ve missed that sweet, wet pussy.” Freya sighed, and then backhanded him viciously across the face, much harder this time. He hissed at the sharp, biting pain then blinked away the stars that had suddenly burst behind his eyes. “Merlin’s cunt, you’ve gotten strong!”
            She smiled coldly, and then pointed to her face. Freya had a new tattoo there; a simple blue line that ran from her lower lip, and down her chin. It gave her a strangely exotic appearance. “Do you see this?”
            “Yes. I think I like it. Might take a bit of getting used to, of course.” Snape replied drolly.
            “It was given to me by my husband. It means we are bound by the old laws of magic.”
            “How romantic.” He snorted derisively, though his heart was pounding again.
            “It also means I wouldn’t fuck you if you-know-who himself told me to.”
            “You don’t have to. Untie me and I’ll be your slave. I will lick your pussy until you scream. You’ll forget all about him.”
            She scowled blackly. “Why would I want to forget him?”
            “You seemed keen enough, downstairs. Drinking yourself blind. Letting stupid young wizards knock you into next week. Come, darling. That’s hardly the behavior of a woman in love.” He prodded, knowing it was a low blow. He had to make sure. His ego demanded it. Infuriated, Freya grabbed him by the throat.
            “It’s the behavior of a woman who loves her husband so much, she would do anything to protect him. Including staying away. Even if it rips her heart out.” She squeezed, just enough to let him know how serious she was, then pulled away. “You must be either very brave, or very stupid to even question my loyalty to him. I am no stranger to killing, sir.”
            “Of that, I am very much aware.” Severus replied silkily, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Her eyes flickered to his throat at the motion, and he felt yet another throb in his loins.
            “Vidarr sent you.” She murmured dangerously. “You’re not the first servant he’s sent to drag me back, but you are the strangest.”
            The name brought snapped him back unpleasantly to reality. He shuddered, then looked up at her intently, his stomach lurching with the thought of Vidarr’s cold grey eyes, always glinting from the shadows of his nightmares. “He most certainly did not. I’d rather die than let that monster anywhere near you. But yes, Freya. I am here to take you home.” Freya stared at him, clearly uncertain how to respond to this. “I’ve missed you so much. That is not an easy thing for a man like me to admit, but it’s true, nonetheless.”
            “Look, I don’t know who you think…” She began.
            “It’s me, Freya.” He interrupted pleadingly. “No more games. I’m sorry for the disguise, but I had no idea what this place was, or what kind of danger you might have been in. And I…I had to be sure you still felt the same way about me.”
            There was a soft mew, and Triejgul leapt down from the bed and began curling around Freya’s ankles. He had no idea how the cat had gotten inside, or how long he had been there. She, on the other hand, did not seem surprised in the least to see him, and absentmindedly bent down to scratch him between the ears. Snape glared at the cat, sourly.
            “Ah. The culprit returns.” He said. “You’ve been coming here all this time, haven’t you? Backstabbing fur ball.” Snape growled in annoyance.
            Freya gaped as Triejgul curled up on Severus’ lap and began purring. “He normally doesn’t take to people.” She whispered. “Except of course…”
            Snape chuckled darkly. “That’s right, witch. Work it out.”
            She stared at him, right in the eyes. “Oh, fuck me.” She groaned in sudden understanding, rubbing at her eyes.
            “Is that an invitation?” He asked roguishly. Freya sat down on the floor in front of him, hesitated, then reached up to touch his face. Severus sighed, and leaned into the touch. She pulled away jerkily.
            “That can’t be you.” She whispered.
            “Come darling. I am a rather brilliant potions master.” He drawled, mildly offended that she would question his skills.
            “Polyjuice?” She asked. He nodded. “How long until...”
            “By my calculations, approximately twenty minutes.”
            “Merlin’s beard. I was going to…”
            “Sleep with me?” He asked sharply.
            “Murder you.” She replied softly. He grimaced at the finality of the word.
            “How very cold-blooded of you.”
            She shrugged. “I thought you were one of Vidarr’s men. I wasn’t about to let you go back to him in one piece.”
            “I’m not here on his behalf, but I won’t lie to you. I...” He swallowed. He wasn't ready to admit that he had been ordered by The Dark Lord to bring her back. “I needed to see you. I’ve missed you, Freya. Please untie me?” She shook her head.
            “I’m sorry. I have to be completely certain it’s really you. You’re clearly very clever, whoever you are.”
            “You may use legilimency if you’d like.”
            “I’d rather not. I’ve had some rather nasty experiences with that particular branch of magic.” She said distastefully.
            “Reasonable.” Snape studied her face. Up to this point she had seemed fairly confident in her actions, but now that she had an idea of who he really was, she looked faintly terrified. “That gives us time to clear up a few matters. You have a bit of explaining to do, witch. First and foremost, why did you leave me, Freya?” He asked softly. Her eyes widened, and he saw very real pain there. She didn’t answer, but instead looked away. “No answer? Fine. Let’s try something else. Why were you at the Department of Mysteries that night?” He pressed, feeling a touch angrier.
            “Vidarr.” She spoke quietly. “He sent me an envelope with a lock of black hair inside.” A violent shudder ran through her body. “At the time, the message seemed clear enough. If you are who you say that you are…You know what he’s like. What he’s capable of. I went to confront him, and then…”
            “Potter.” Snape said blackly. She nodded, her eyes welling up with tears. “You mean to tell me, that you went to rescue me, just as that idiot boy did?” He gritted his teeth furiously. “How could you do something so foolish?”
            “No.” She whispered blackly. “I went to kill him. Vidarr doesn’t negotiate. If he’d had you, you’d have been dead.”
            He shivered, in spite of himself. “That was incredibly stupid. If you had stayed at Grimmauld place, you would have…”
            “Gone anyway.” Freya interjected. “I read the Prophet. I know what happened.”
            “Like hell.” He growled, completely incensed by this admission. “I would have stopped you, even if it meant locking you in my chambers.”
            “I’d like to see you try.” She bit back.
            “Damn you, Freya. I was terrified for you.”
            “What would you like me to do? Apologize? I thought he’d tortured you. I thought he’d done worse than that. ‘We are all fools in love.’” She sighed morosely.
            “Who said that?” He lifted an eyebrow at the quote.
            “Muggle author. I’m not sure you’d like her, her stories have a nasty habit of ending happily.” Freya started to laugh, but it soon turned into a sob. “I’m even more stupid than Potter. Vidarr hunted me down, but the ministry found me first. They arrested me. I escaped, but I must have blacked out. I don’t remember much. When I awoke, I was…”
            “With her.” He nodded, thinking of the black haired witch who had slowly nursed her back to reality. Freya whipped her wand out again, and held it under his nose.
            “How do you know about her?” She asked menacingly.
            “I met her at the lakeside.” He said feverishly. “I apparated there, somehow. I don’t really understand it, but it seems we are bound to one another, in ways we don’t really understand yet. Freya, it’s me. Please believe me. Give me fifteen minutes to prove it.”
            She lowered her wand, but her expression was still suspicious. “That woman saved me. She reached into my mind and dragged me back from the edge of madness. If you know what’s happened to her…”
            “She’s not with you?” He asked incredulously.
            “No. I woke up one morning and she was gone. She left me my sketchbook.” Freya became very quiet for a moment. “I saw everything you’ve been writing in it. I couldn’t help it. I tried to reach out to you, but…it burst into flames. I don’t understand why.”
            Snape grimaced. “My doing, I’m afraid. I had a houseguest over the summer, and he wanted to show it to the Dark Lord, so I let him take a look, and the enchantment did what it was intended to do. But why even mention this if you’re not sure I’m me?”
            “Because if you don’t turn into Severus Snape by the end of the night, I’m going to slit your throat and send your head back to Vidarr.”
            “Just like Barty Crouch?”
            Her eyes narrowed dangerously, and he knew he’d made a grave error. “You’re not exactly improving your situation by bringing him up, you know.”
            “I must admit, it was immensely pleasurable to see him dead. I had no idea you were capably of such brutality.” He smiled warmly, and a small grin twitched on her lips.
            “I didn’t know myself, until the moment called for it.” She shrugged.
            “Why didn’t you write to me, Freya?” His voice cracked with emotion. “I know you weren’t capable for most of it, but after you awoke? I spent months worrying over you, and not a word.”
            “I…I thought…” Her eyes welled up with tears again. “I thought you would be better off without me.”
            “’BETTER OFF’.” He growled, suddenly furious. “Better off thinking you were dead? Better off wondering why you had abandoned us, why you jeopardized the Order, why you let your brother and your best friend grieve for you while I cleaned up the mess? HOW could you be so cowardly? So selfish? Sirius Black is DEAD, Freya.”
            “Please stop.” She whispered.
            “Do you even know what’s been happening since you left us? Muggle families are being TORTURED, and MURDERED. Voldemort ordered an attack on the Brockdale Bridge, Dumbledore…” He cut off abruptly. No. She mustn’t know about that. No one can know. “I needed you, damn it. I needed you, but now I find you here, letting wizards beat you to a pulp for money.”
            “Do you think it’s been easy?” Freya furiously wiped her tears away with the back of her bandaged hand. “Waking up after months of being trapped in my own head, and not knowing where the hell I was? You think I didn’t desperately want to come home? There’s still a warrant for my arrest, you know. My greatest enemy keeps sending his assassins after me, and to top it all off, the man I love is a double agent. What, did you expect me to just waltz back into the country, knowing that the slightest misstep could expose you? I already fucked up at the Department of Mysteries. Do you think I could live with myself if I jeopardized your life as well? I battled my own nightmares for months. Do you know what I saw, over and over again? I saw you, dead and bloody on the floor. You have a job to do. I can’t get in the way of that.”
            “We will be stronger together. You said so yourself, remember?” He replied softly, wishing desperately that she would untie him so that he could take her into his arms. He could actually feel his heart breaking.
            “I was wrong. I should have listened to you the night we made Malignum Praesidium. You tried to call it off. I behaved childishly.”
            “No, Freya. You weren’t wrong. Please…if I am going to die, let me die knowing you are safe, not holed up in this frozen wasteland. Let me take you some place warm. Those hands are meant for creating art, not for muggle dueling.” He studied her face carefully.
            “I intend to fight, Severus. I’m not here because I’m afraid to do battle. I’m here because I’m preparing for it.” He gaped at her as her gaze hardened.
            “Are you sure you weren’t in Gryffindor?” Snape asked, somewhat mutinously. She cracked a smile, and began fiddling with the bandages around her knuckles, peeling them off gingerly. They appeared very sore and bloody. “Oh, merlin. I’m in love with a madwoman.” He groaned.
            “Oh?” Freya lifted an eyebrow in disbelief. “You’re in love now, are you?”
            Snape rolled his eyes. “Yes, damn you. How many times are you going to make me admit it?”
            Freya dropped to her knees, and studied his face, clearly searching for any sign of him through his disguise. “Please, be you, Severus.” She pleaded so sweetly and so sadly that it broke his heart a little. He struggled against his bonds. “Severus, please…please be you.“ She gasped with the weight of her emotion.
            “Come closer.” He whispered. “If I’m lying, you can kill me.” She hesitated, then inched nearer. Fingers trembling, she reached up and felt the stubble that adorned his cheek.
            “This is so strange…” Freya murmured. She grasped him beneath the chin and leaned in to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. He gasped at the intensity of the sensation, so soft but so sinfully sweet. Blood rushed to his loins, and he felt himself harden in an instant. She took advantage of the gasp, swiping his lower lip with her tongue, and delving deeper. “I’ve missed this so badly.” Her lips crashed onto his, sucking desperately at his mouth. He felt the wetness of tears against his face, but her body was responding heatedly, and when he growled roughly in frustration, she gasped, her nipples hardening visibly through her bustier.
            “Untie me. Now.” He breathed. Shuddering, she gazed into his eyes one last time before flicking her wand out.
            “Relashio.” She whispered. The bonds fell away, but Severus remained seated, controlling his urge to pounce on her, which was very difficult to do as she had begun placing soft, urgent kisses along his throat. He had no desire to make her uneasy with sudden movements, although she now knew who he really was. Freya rested her forehead against his for a moment, her fingers working the button of her trousers. When she had successfully removed them, she straddled his lap, and he moaned desperately at the heat emanating from between her thighs. She took his lips in another fiery kiss, and soon had him panting with need when her fingers brushed against the strain in his pants.
            “May I?” She asked softly. He nodded vigorously.
            “Please…”
            She drew his weeping cock from its fabric prison, and positioned him at her entrance with a delicious shudder. When she sank onto him, they both cried out in pleasure, and he felt the walls of her sex flutter around him. It was not as tight a fit as he’d remembered. Freya looked down, then back up at him, and began to giggle, clearly having the same thought. Whoever Klaus was, he was not nearly as well endowed as Severus. As if triggered by the thought, he suddenly felt his flesh begin to ripple and change. Freya gasped and looked at him with wide eyes as the cock inside her began to swell and grow as he slowly but surely transformed. The brown hair thickened and lengthened until it hung in shining black tresses. His nose grew longer, and more aquiline, and his eyes darkened, but his expression remained hungry. The look on Freya’s face was positively glowing. She smoothed her hands across his jaw and sank her fingers into his hair, making him purr with delight. “There you are.” She whispered.
            Feeling elated, he wrapped a strong arm around her waist, and thrust his hips upward. His fingers found her clitoris, and he stroked her wistfully as she arched her back and cried out in gentle ecstasy. He chuckled at how quickly and eagerly she came for him. “Ladies first.” He whispered before grabbing her hips and fucking her with several rough strokes. They were so desperate for one another that they could not even be bothered to remove the rest of their clothing. After months of sexual neglect, his orgasm approached rapidly and within moments he had filled her with seed. He gasped, and was about to apologize; his cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment, when she swooped in for another kiss.
            “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry.” She whispered, admonishingly. Snape chuckled as she threw her arms around his neck, and pulled him into a fierce embrace. They remained that way for a long time, until he finally felt his manhood flutter and become soft inside of her. “I can’t believe you’re really here.” Freya said, softly.
            “I’m still cross with you, Freya.” He murmured, smelling her hair.
            “I know. I deserve it, but I don’t mind.” She breathed.
            “There’s the Hufflepuff I remember.” He grinned. Freya kissed him again, ever so gently, then carefully dismounted him. Snape groaned a bit at the loss of her warmth. “And where do you think you’re going?” He growled, watching as she stripped the remainder of her clothing, and threw on a gray, threadbare robe.
            “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m in terrible need of a bath.” She smirked. “Care to join me? I’m sure you’ll find it quite…invigorating.” There was something mistrustful about the way she winked at him. He was quick to follow, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. If she thought he was going to let her out of his sight for a moment, she was highly mistaken.
            To his annoyance, Freya did not have her own private bath. Scowling, he allowed her to take his hand and lead him down the hallway, and surprisingly, outside. The air was sharp and stung the skin like a blade against his flesh.
            “You’re joking.”
            She smiled broadly, and drew him irresistibly onto the deck where an enormous, steaming bathtub awaited. To his great annoyance, there were other wizards already wallowing in the tub, other fighters, as far as he could tell, including the young wizard who had dueled Freya hours before. He scowled at Freya for a moment, but it seemed to falter as Severus gave the young man a look he usually reserved for his most disobedient students. A large man with a nasty looking black eye rose from the water like a great sea monster, his skin red and steaming from the bath, not caring one jot about his own nakedness. He said something in a deep baritone voice, and reached out to clasp Freya’s hand, clearly congratulating her on the night’s victory. The younger wizard watched darkly, his pride irrevocably injured. Freya winked slyly at him, which seemed to make him angrier. Then, to Severus’ horror, she shrugged her robe from her shoulders, leaving her completely naked in the frosty air. He glowered at the other men, who eyed her body appreciatively, but they did not seem to notice his annoyance. She swung a leg over the edge of the tub, and settled into the hot water with a low moan of appreciation, closing her eyes for a moment.
            “I thought you were going to join me.” Freya said, with evident amusement. Severus scowled blackly, but ultimately refused to be outdone. He peeled off the remainder of his clothing and tossed it aside, fighting back a shiver at the freezing air as it caressed his skin. The other men watched him disconcertingly as he climbed in after her. The water was far hotter than he was used to, but after a moment of pain, he began to relax, feeling the tension ebb away from his muscles. Freya draped an arm casually about his shoulders, somewhat possessively, and shouted something at a boy who was dressed head to toe in furs. The boys scrabbled to perform whatever she had commanded, which clearly involved drinks, for soon Severus found himself in possession of an enormous tankard of honey golden mead.
            “So…the volva has proven worthy yet again.” The large wizard growled, not in an unfriendly manner. His good eye was twinkling. “I have never been so pleased to be wrong.”
            Freya smiled sweetly. “I hope your loss was not too significant.”
            “Not at all! A paltry sum.” He said kindly, but there was a hint of bitterness behind the man’s broken English. His eyes flickered to Severus. “Who have you brought us?”
            Freya took a large swig of mead. “An old friend, from London.”
               “Ohhh?” The man looked at Snape with enormous interest. “Dark tidings, indeed. Do you have news of…” He hesitated, his face contorting with his discomfort. “We call him djöfullinn.”
               Severus thought that he understood. He looked at Freya for confirmation, and she smiled grimly.
               “It means ‘devil.’” She murmured. Snape nodded sagely.
               “There have been multiple attacks on non-magic families. A bridge was destroyed.”He was careful to only speak of things that had already been reported in the daily prophet. “England is in great peril.”
               “See? It doesn’t concern us. Why should we risk our necks for them?”The young wizard spat mutinously, as if Severus had not spoken at all. The third man, an elderly, grizzled thing with a silver beard rose swiftly from the bathwater and backhanded the impertinent youth ferociously across the face.
               “Hold your tongue.” He hissed. “You are too young to recognize her sort, but I...” He bowed deeply toward Freya, the way one might bow to royalty. “I remember when her kind would visit my villiage, as a boy. They healed our sick. Blessed our flocks with their female magicks. Grew our crops...”He smiled at Freya beseechingly. “There was a time when kings would give up their thrones to a visiting volva.”
               Snape started at this, and gave Freya an incredulous look, and was about to speak, when she gave him a sharp glance. He held his tongue.
               “Frejya.” The gargantuan Norseman spoke with enormous respect, pronouncing her name in the old way, which sounded something like ‘Free’ “Your mistress has commanded these woods for over a hundred years.”He paused, and looked at Freya uncertainly. Her blue eyes glinted fiercely in the dim torchlight. She smiled darkly.“If it is your wish to see us fight, then we shall await your command...volva.”The large man reclined his head deeply, his pale ginger head steaming from the bath. Severus stared at Freya, who blushed prettily.
               “You have been busy, haven’t you?” He murmured softly. She tactfully ignored him, and nodded at them.
               “I would sooner not have you risk your skins. Not yet. You have family of your own to protect.”The youngest wizard looked noticeably relieved, and somewhat smug at this. “But I would have your blessing, wise one.”At this, the youngest looked faintly alarmed, but Severus did not understand why. Freya rose from the tub, her skin steaming in the frigid air. Some protective instict made him want to reach for his cloak to cover her, but then the oldest of the three rose as well. The entire length of his body was tattooed in faded blue whorls and runes. It was strange, and mildly offensive to Snape’s English sensibilities to see nudity displayed with such casual indifference, but the air soon thickened with the metallic tang of magic. It caused the hairs on his arms to stand trait on end. The old man’s smile was kind and grandfatherly, but his eyes began to glow white with power. He leaned in and whispered something the Freya that he could not hear. The markings on her flesh began to pulsate and glow as well, radiating from her body like a hazy aura. The ancient wizard cupped his hands around his mouth, and exhaled forefully, the breath billowing hot between his finger. Then, he laid his bare hands upon Freya’s belly.
               Severus’vision grew spotty and strange, and before he really understood what was happening, he fell into a deep, penetrating sleep.
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Spy vs. Spy