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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
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The furry menace was sitting on his chest, purring so forcefully that he could feel the vibrations against his skin through the thick woolen blanket, which seemed damnably itchy, now that he was awake. Opening one eye, he glared down at Trigul, who looked perfectly content to use him as a human cushion, but it was enough to remind him where he was, and how he had gotten there. When his fingers did not find feminine flesh, after a moment of absentminded groping, he huffed in annoyance, and opened the other eye.
Instead of lying next to him as he’d expected, Freya was curled up in a threadbare armchair, snoring softly with her head nestled in the crook of her arm. Clearly she had fallen asleep keeping watch, as she was fully clothed in a grey, oversized sweater, trousers and very worn black boots. He gingerly pushed Trigul off of him, wincing as he minded the cat’s sharp claws, and swung his long, bare legs over the side of the bed with a faint frown. His joints ached, and his skin prickled with goosebumps as he studied his sleeping wife with something suspiciously like affection stirring in his chest like a small, timid creature, checking for predators.
Severus Snape was not pleased to find himself in love, for the second time in his life. He had sworn never to love again, and he had meant it. To love was to render himself unspeakably vulnerable, and when Lilly had been murdered, it was as if the earth itself had shifted beneath his feet, leaving him behind. It must be said that his first love had been born from a childhood infatuation, though no less real than the one he felt now, as he watched Freya sleeping. The love that currently took his breath away had stolen upon him some time in the dead of night, picking the lock that guarded his emotions, and stealing his heart in spite of the numerous defenses he’d placed around it. In his arrogance, he had not even realized it was gone, until of course she’d left Hogwarts that first time. That time, he’d been alarmed to find himself pining, and had been determined to win back her affections. This, was not like that. This time, he had only managed to track her down thanks to the large black and white cat that now entwined itself around his ankles.
Severus considered his options. He knew where she was, now. As formidable as his occlumency was, he was not at all confident that he could keep this information from Voldemort, not when Freya herself held his heart clutched in her fingers, which now twitched slightly as she slumbered. He licked his lips nervously, then took a deep breath. There was a job to do. Snape could not allow his love for this woman to interfere, no matter how much it destroyed him. He had made a promise to Dumbledore, to continue his work for Voldemort and to win the Dark Lord’s trust, even if that meant reaching into his chest, beyond all those clever defenses, and crushing his own heart. Still, as he stared forlornly down at her, he could not help but long to press his lips to her forehead.
Freya’s hair was very messy indeed, and in the cold morning light, her pale skin glowed faintly, though her cheeks and the tip of her nose were flushed pink. Her breath billowed gently from her lips, wreathing her face in mist, and he realized that the fire had gone out some time during the night, leaving the room immensely chilly. Why hadn’t she curled up next to him? Snape felt that he was more than capable of keeping her warm, in more ways than one. Scowling, he whipped the heavy blanket from the bed, and draped it carefully around his sleeping lover, who made a small noise and snuggled deeper into the chair. Some might have thought it adorable, and indeed, Snape felt incomprehensible warmth spreading through his cheeks, and a tiny, amused grin tugged at the corner of his lips. In spite of his inward struggle, it felt right to find himself in her company once again, after all these months apart.
The moment was ruined when Freya interrupted his train of thought with a loud, unladylike snore. He snorted in a way that might have seemed contemptuous, had anyone been listening, but his heart was nearly bursting with affection. Snape’s skin prickled with the cold, and he shivered, suddenly remembering that he was quite naked. The events of the previous night were oddly fuzzy. He recalled making brief, but urgent love to Freya, and then a strange meeting in a hot tub. Everything else was dark. Scowling, he searched the room for signs of his clothes, but to his dismay, found nothing but Freya’s meager belongings. Luckily, his wand was on the bedside table, and he clenched it between his teeth as he snatched up a sheet, wrapped it around his waist, and crept to the door, thinking he might be able to nick some robes. Surely there was some sort of laundry facility in this frozen dung heap.
            He did not have to go far. When he managed to unlock the door and carefully pry it open without waking Freya, he discovered a small tray containing a loaf of black bread, smoked fish, a small plate of something grayish and meaty looking, and inexplicably, a large bottle of dark beer. Next to the tray was a neatly folded pile of clothes, which he tucked under his arm as he brought the food inside, and gently nudged the door closed with his foot.
Snape inspected the clothes with a frown of distaste. Whoever had left them had selected simple black trousers, which were fine enough, but the jumper…He actually shuddered as he put aside his dignity for the sake of warmth, and pulled on the oversized horror, which was bright scarlet and knit with a pattern of geometric white snowflakes. Face contorted with disgust, he briefly considered charming it a different color, but instead turned back to Freya and sighed in a resigned sort of way before leaning down and gently stroking her cheek with long, cool fingers. “Time to wake up, witch. I’ve brought breakfast.” He murmured.
Snape hissed in surprise when her hand shot out and closed like a vice around his wrist, pulling him close and making his footing unstable. Her wand tip was merely a hair’s width away from his prominent nose, and when her eyes snapped open, they were wide with madness, like a frightened rabbit’s. For one horrible moment, she did not seem to recognize him, but then her cheeks flushed scarlet and she released him at once. Snape pulled back from her, deeply unsettled as she babbled a fervent apology, tucking her wand away and running her fingers through her mussed up hair. She grinned sheepishly, clearly attempting to ease his shock, but the smile was leached away when she noticed his thunderous expression.
“Merlin’s cunt…” Heart thudding loudly, he stared at her as she licked her lips, eyes darting nervously, reminding him of the day he’d followed her through Diagon Alley, intensely skittish and ready to whip out her wand in a moment’s notice. It was as if Snape had been wearing rose tinted goggles the moment he’d awoken, and they had suddenly been lifted. The sharp black eyes of a spy looked over her critically, seeing her clearly for the first time that morning. “You’re going to eat something. Then you’re going to tell me what’s happened to you since you’ve been on the run.” Snape said in a low, commanding voice, gesturing to the tray.
Freya did not look up at him, but instead proceeded to inspect the food very carefully, dissecting and sniffing each of the items, as though looking for poisons. He had never seen her do this, and he stared incredulously. She was on edge, every muscle tightly wound, ready to spring into action. Moody would have been proud. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Snape began to eat warily, watching as she uncorked the bottle with her teeth and took a swig.
“Really? You’re drinking at…” He glanced out the window, gauging the position of the sunlight. “Six in the morning?”
She snorted and gave him a weak, yet rakish grin, then offered him the bottle. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do.” Grinning back, he accepted, and took a drink. Oddly enough, he found the beer very refreshing, and it went exceedingly well with the smoked salmon and toast. He lifted an inquisitive eyebrow at the cubes of greyish, pink meat. Freya smirked at his dubious expression. “Súrsaðir Hrútspungar.” She said helpfully, but to him the words sounded a bit like she was attempting to speak around a mouthful of marbles. “I wouldn’t recommend it, unless you’re feeling as daring as that glorious jumper would suggest.” Her teasing earned her a humorless grin, and he stabbed a bit of the meat with a fork, holding it up for closer inspection.
“What is it?” He asked suspiciously.
“Pickled ram’s bollocks.” Freya answered without a trace of sarcasm. The fork clattered to the plate untouched, and Freya giggled, finally warming up enough to relax noticeably. Snape noticed the change in her demeanor, and smiled in spite of himself.
“There you are, wife. It’s nice to see you again.” He said slyly. Freya’s smile withered on her face. He lifted an eyebrow at her suddenly guilty expression. “You realize of course, that I have not forgiven your little disappearing act. As pleasant as last night was, it does not erase what you’ve done.” He spoke softly, but the words were razor sharp.
“I know.” She replied gently.
Annoyance flared up hotly in Severus’ chest, and an angry retort bubbled in his throat. He bit back the insult, but still spat, “Oh you ‘know’ do you?’”
She blushed. “I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked, and to his dismay, tears began to sparkle around her pupils, but to his relief, they did not spill over.
“That’s not good enough, Freya.” He eyed her critically, noting the way she kept looking at the door as though expecting someone to burst in any moment.
“I know.” She took a deep swig of beer, not meeting his eyes.
“Quite the little know-it-all, these days.” He sneered darkly.
            “Don’t patronize me.” She said hoarsely, her eyes fixed on the curl of his lip. Noticing this, he licked them experimentally, and he saw her eyes darken heatedly before she blinked. She was clearly desperate to kiss him, in spite of everything. This pleased him, to know that she had missed him. Snape cleared his throat, pointedly, and she blushed, knowing she’d been caught ogling him. As much as he would have loved to pursue this little indication of desire, he wanted answers. When he reached for her hand, she jerked defensively, but he clasped it all the same and began stroking her wrist soothingly with the pad of his thumb, as though calming a skittish thestral. He studied her carefully, noting the way her pupils dilated, and the way her breath hitched in her throat. Cautiously, he raised her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her knuckles. She looked away from him, gazing out the window like she was one of his students, not paying attention to his lectures.
            “I would like to know why you’re behaving this way.” He asked in the calmest voice he could muster.
            “In what way?” She replied in a bored tone, still looking elsewhere.
            “Like a scared little house elf.” He said sharply. Freya looked at him coolly and lifted an eyebrow.
            “Our home is at war.”
            “That’s not it. Something else has you on edge. Look at you.”
            “Fine.” She sighed, clearly exasperated. As if to make her point, her eyes darted to the open window. “They’ve come close. Far too close…Severus…” Her expression was enigmatic, and her voice pleading. He felt his stomach drop. “Last night, I thought you were…one of his.”
            “There have been others?” He murmured, feeling a lump in his throat as he watched the jittery way her fingers drummed against the arms of the chair. She reminded him once again of a fox caught in a trap. “Freya, it’s me. You know I only want to keep you safe.”
            “Do you?” She breathed so softly he almost did not hear. When he opened his mouth to retort, she gave him a sharp, almost mad look. “What happens if I agree to go back with you? Hmm?” She asked.
            “You ask as though this is open for debate.” Severus replied icily, not at all liking where the conversation was going.
            “Oh, but it is.” She sighed, crossing her legs and gazing at him strangely, one hand deftly caressing her collarbone. Severus shivered, but glared at her. “If I go back, I’m doing so on my terms. Not yours.”
            “Stop speaking this way.” He snarled. “The Order needs you. I need you.”
            “Must be hard for a cold, calculated Slytherin like you to admit.” She lifted an eyebrow, teasingly.
            “Don’t change the subject. I’m taking you home if I have to toss you over my shoulder like a sack of doxy eggs.” He growled dangerously.
            “I’d like to see you try.” She demurred softly, her lips curling with what might have been genuine amusement. “Severus Snape. You are the most cunning man I’ve ever met, and you’re telling me that you came all the way to Iceland, risking your position and your neck, because ‘you missed me?’ Don’t. Insult. Me.” She said with a sly, mirthless wink. “Why did you really come here, Severus?” She whispered.
            “I already told you.” It was all he could do not to fidget beneath her penetrating stare.
            “Tell me again.”
            Anger and frustration were simmering beneath Snape’s cool exterior, but he was suddenly nervous. He knew he had to tell her the truth, that he had been ordered to find her, to drag her back to his master, but the words did not come easily to him. How could he admit that he was under orders when the truth would surely make her hate him? “I…” He faltered for a moment. “You are still loyal to Dumbledore, I trust?” He asked carefully, gauging her reaction. “Your place is at home. By my side.” There was a heavy moment of silence as she considered this explanation. This was the truth, he felt, though certainly not enough of it to make him an honest wizard, yet he felt it was safe to continue. “You can’t imagine what it was like, not knowing where you were, or if you were safe. I nearly went mad. You know how I feel.” He muttered uncomfortably. She stared at him impassively.“Tonks and…” He winced “…your brother miss you as well. They’ll be pleased to see you.”
            “My darling husband,” She whispered. His heart seemed to drop somewhere into the region of his abdomen. It was as if she could see right through him. “I know you didn’t just show up because you were feeling sentimental. What aren’t you telling me?”
            Face impassive, he roiled internally, feeling a surge of self-loathing for the lie he was about to tell. “I refuse to dignify that with a response.” He sneered, crossing his arms in front of his chest, his mind racing. The little voice in the back of his mind told him, be honest with her now or you’ll only make it worse, but his well honed Slytherin instincts strangled the little voice until it went silent.
            “Severus Snape…” Freya said with a deadly smirk, her eyes hard and suspicious. “You are forgetting that I am not just your paramour.” To his alarm, he saw her fingers twitching around the pocket where she’d tucked her wand. His eyes widened ever so slightly in alarm, and he cocked his wrist, prepared to draw his own wand, which was tucked in the sleeve of his hideous sweater. “You are not the only one with a gift for reading people, and do not forget that I have killed, Severus Snape,”
“Yes, you have.” He drawled. “And you’ve been dueling and probably fucking your way around Reykjavik for Merlin knows how long.” It was a baseless accusation, meant to draw the conversation into another direction.
“Take that back,” She whispered, her eyes widening. Her cheeks flushed with indignation, which pleased him since it was the first sign of real emotion since this conversation had started. He sneered indifferently, tossing his long black hair over his shoulder, the way he’d seen Lucius do a hundred times.
“You left, didn’t you? One taste of danger and you flee the country? And DON’T give me that bollocks about doing it for my protection.” He snarled when she opened her mouth in indignation. “You’re a young, healthy witch, and your loyalties have always been questionable. Don’t bother responding. You know it to be true. Perhaps your brother was right about you after all.” It was a low, selfish blow, shaming her rather than admitting the terrible truth. “Why should I care if you’ve flashed your quim at every wizard in this frozen hellhole?”
The wand was in her hand, but he was ready for her. He blocked the jinx that flew in his face, scorching him with the heat of it.
“What a nasty temper you’ve got.” He mused darkly. To his shock, she lunged for him, wrapping her arms around his torso and using all her might to fling him bodily to the floor, using physics to bring him down, in spite of his superior strength. He wriggled beneath her, helpless as she pinned his wrists to the floor with alarming dexterity. “Alright ALRIGHT. Damn it!” He hissed, opening his hands in surrender. Freya’s body was pressed sinfully against his as she gazed down at him with a mad grin. She did not bother disarming him.
“Is that what you think?” She breathed. “Is it?” The air around her seemed to crackle with power. It was strangely intoxicating. He bucked his hips upward, trying to unseat her, but she clenched her thighs firmly on either side of his abdomen, refusing to budge. “How many men do you think I’ve fucked? Ten? A hundred?” She snarled with black amusement. “Well, clearly I’ve brought the great Severus Snape to a simpering l puddle. If I can make you come all this way just for a taste, why not take every handsome young thing into my bed?” She leaned in closer, every word becoming a soft murmur, even as it dripped with sarcasm. “How impeccable your logic is.”
“I…misspoke.” He gasped, feeling his face burn with humiliation, but also with a terrible desire as he felt his body betray him as she ground herself against him with wanton aggression.
“You have no idea, Potions Master. Shall I show you?” His cock hardened in an instant, pulsating with the velvety notes of her voice. He swallowed hard at her smirk. Snape was not used to being controlled so helplessly like this. It was exhilarating, though he was not used to the sensation. This was not the teasing love making that had occurred the night of his duel with Sirius Black. What she was suggesting was complete surrender. She felt absolutely delicious, as she swirled her hips gently in silent promise. A soft plea lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. Freya reached down between her legs, and gave his erection an experimental squeeze, chuckling at the soft, ragged moan that tore from his throat. “I could use you, if you’d like. I could have you at my mercy. If I wanted to, I could take my pleasure from you and leave you completely helpless. Is that what you want, Severus?”
“I…I don’t know. I’ve never…” He whispered, feeling a hard throb of longing in his nether region at these words, but she was frightening him. The look in her eyes was strange, and he knew at once that he had touched a nerve somewhere far deeper than he’d intended. As if reading his thoughts, she leaned in and placed a surprisingly gentle kiss on the bridge of his nose, then released him, and rose to her feet, tucking her wand safely back into her pocket. Snape stared at her, somewhat dismayed by this. When she looked back down at him, he felt warmth rise to his face.
“Maybe when you’re ready.” She said.
He gaped at her, blushing furiously, aghast at this suggestion. “I’m ready for anything.”
            She laughed. It was a clear, cool sound, like bells, and when she smiled at him, it was with genuine, if sad affection. “No, my love. Not until you’re sure.”
            Frustrated affection surged inside of him as he propped himself up onto his elbows. “You’re just going to leave me like this?” He gestured at his prominent bulge.
She cocked her head. “Oh yes, naturally. Jealousy isn’t an attractive quality you know. Either trust me, or don’t, but do make up your mind soon so I can get on with things.”
“I only said that to get a rise out of you. You know that.” He huffed in annoyance.
“It worked.”
“You have dark magic, Freya. More than you ever had at Hogwarts.” There was somewhat husky note in his syrupy voice. He could not help but be intrigued by this change in his wife. “I can taste it. You’re dripping with it.”
“Survival will do that to a witch.” She murmured gently. The way she said this made him rise to his feet immediately.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” He reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair from her face, but she pulled away from him jerkily.
“No. Are you going to tell me why you’ve come?”
Severus sighed deeply, nodded slightly, feeling his heart drop into his gut. He cleared his throat, and gazed at her. Now was the time to come clean. Keeping the truth from her would never have worked for long. “Freya, I…I’m so sorry…”
There was a terrible, sharp BANG, followed by piercing screams. Freya was behind him in an instant, her fingers throwing open the window as if she meant to leap from the room, but her eyes widened, lips curled back in a leer of fury, her eyes wide with shock. “Fuck. FUCK. They’re here.” She hissed, and made for the door. Snape seized his wand and swiftly followed her, but she was well ahead of him.
A ball of white flame shot past him when he made it into the hallway, singeing a few of his long black hairs. The instincts of a spy took control of his body, propelling every sinew to act. A shield charm flew between them, and a bolt of purple lightning crashed against it in a shower of unnaturally vibrant sparks. The air around them crackled, and smelled of burnt rubber. With a snarl of disdain, Snape twisted his wand, and brought it down in a swift, cutting arc. The spell that hit his opponent was terrible to behold, and for a moment, he saw his eyes widen in disbelief, before they were blinded by steaming, black blood that bubbled from his every orifice. Snape smirked nastily when he turned, leaving the man to choke and gurgle sickeningly on the hallway floor.
When he turned back to Freya, he was forced to duck so quickly, it made him dizzy. The hex hit a glass sconce in the wall, and it shattered. Snape recognized Freya’s attacker as one of Vidarr’s men, the red haired one who had filed sharp little cuts into his teeth. He was giggling as he sent a wall of knives in their direction, but this nasty little spell was a specialty of Freya’s, and with a complicated twirl of her wand, the daggers stopped in midair, and disintegrated into colored smoke, which she then gathered up, like she was stirring a drink, before sending the miniature tornado speeding down the corridor. Snape was pleased to see the smirk vanish from the wizard’s face. He ducked around the corner, and bellowed something in a harsh, guttural language. Whatever it was, it caused the blood to leech from Freya’s face, though her eyes blazed with fury. Her body tensed, and her timing was excellent, for as soon as she caught a glimpse of his red, dreadlocked hair, her simple hex collided with an overhead beam, and it came crashing down on him with a sickening crunch. The red haired wizard managed one last leer, revealing gouged teeth before he passed out.
A high pitched scream pierced the air, and for a moment, they locked eyes, and Snape shook his head sharply, pleading silently with her. Don’t be a hero, Freya. Run. But he knew in a heartbeat that she would not. Hufflepuff she may have been, but deep down, he knew his wife had the reckless, foolish heart of a Gryffindor, and that had been a scream of the dying. She would not run. Time seemed to slow down. Cursing under his breath, he reached for Freya’s hand as she flew down the hall, but she was just out of reach, firing left and right, felling heavy bodies like tree trunks until she reached the loft overlooking the bar below. When she stopped, he nearly collided with her, but when he reached for her upper arm, he froze.
“Ahhh. There she is. Come down, my little fox.” A soft voice drifted up to them from below. Severus tasted bile in the back of his throat.
Freya gripped her wand so tightly her knuckles turned white, and her breath shook with fear, but she was incredibly still. Severus inched close behind her, and saw the carnage on the floor below. The large man who had greeted him the night before, as well as the elderly bar witch were both dead at Vidarr’s feet, dark blood pooling around their grotesquely twisted bodies. They had been tortured, so that their screams would lure her out, and it had worked. The handsome werewolf gazed up at them, his one good eye glinting with pleasure. “There’s no use fighting, my dear. Every man, woman and child in this establishment has been disposed of. You have no friends here. This building is surrounded. Put away your wand, and I promise to be gentle.” He purred lazily, smiling with pure delight at the anguished expression on Freya’s face. The slight emphasis he placed on the word filled him with dread, and he saw her skin begin to glisten with a cold sweat.
“You have forgotten how to be gentle, my master.” She replied with an uncanny amount of silky confidence. Severus was impressed by this skillful show of diplomacy in the face of this monster. Vidarr laughed good naturedly, as if they were enjoying a charming dinner conversation. Beside him, Fenrir Greyback bared his teeth.
“For the moment, we both must answer to a new benefactor, my dear.”
“What are you on about?” Freya asked in a bored tone, rolling her eyes convincingly. Vidar smiled patiently.
“As fond as I am of you, you’ve become incredibly expensive, my dear. I’m afraid arrangements have been made in exchange for your immediate return to me.”
Freya snorted contemptuously, and Snape reached out, wanting to brush his fingers against hers, to let her know he was there. The movement attracted Vidarr’s attention, and he immediately felt his insides turn to ice water when they locked eyes. Suddenly he knew what he had to do, and his heart was ripped in two. “Severus…So kind of you to find her for me. You have my thanks. I trust the Dark Lord with reward you handsomely?”
Freya’s head jerked, her face contorting with disbelief at these words. “No…” She half chuckled, as she turned to look at him. He gazed back at her impassively, and tried not to feel anything when her eyes narrowed and became shiny with horrified tears. “Severus…?” She whispered uncertainly.
“Stupefy.” He murmured. It took every ounce of control to keep his face impassive.
The stunning spell hit her squarely in the face, and for one fleeting instant, he saw the pure pain and betrayal written on her features. He caught her around the waist as she collapsed, and cradled her head in the crook of his elbow. Several tears welled up beneath her lashes and rolled down her cheeks, but he did not brush them away. When he glanced back down, he saw that Vidarr was gazing up at them with a predatory smile.
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Spy vs. Spy