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
- 23
- 24
- 25
Severus waited nearly forty-five minutes in the servants’ corridor, pacing himself mad, trying his hardest not to refill his flask again, for he was still dangerously intoxicated. It was freezing down in the bowels of Malfoy Manor, and it had a slight sobering effect, though his vision was still somewhat shimmery around the edges. His breath billowed white from his nostrils, and he pulled his cloak more firmly around himself. Lucius had been as good as his word, and not a single house elf had revealed itself, although he supposed that was the mark of a good house elf, to begin with. There was still a chance that he was being watched, but his ears, so sharply attuned to the sounds of creeping students, had yet to pick up the slightest disturbance. He had to see her. He had to at least try to explain why he’d done what he did. The coldness with which she’d spoken to him gave him cause to worry that she would ignore his request completely.
After several long minutes of waiting, he finally had an epiphany, and found himself ducking into the Malfoy’s enormous kitchen. It was not precisely where they had agreed to meet, but the risk would be worth it. Although he’d managed to get some food in her belly, there was no way it had been enough, and Vidarr had threatened to withhold sustenance for another day. Not while I live and breathe, thought Severus furiously, although guilt was as much a part of his motivation as anger.
This room was deep and cylindrical, and the walls curved inward like an enormous barrel, which gave the kitchen a claustrophobic feel, in spite of its size. No less than ten enormous brick ovens were carved into the walls, and the wooden table that ran the entire length of the room was covered in deep scratches. This kitchen was one of the oldest in the estate, and he could easily imagine some ancestor of Lucius’ strutting about it in furs and leather. Some of the cauldrons that were precariously stacked in the corner were large enough for him to have taken a bath in, and he suspected that some of them were far older than he. Although it was spotlessly clean, this was not a homey kitchen, such as the Weasleys doubtlessly enjoyed, where a family might gravitate and spend quality time with one another. This was a servant’s kitchen, designed for the mass preparation of enormous quantities of food for lavish balls and exquisite galas. At one time, these fires would have been roaring at all hours of the night, but the Malfoys, though wealthy, no longer enjoyed the power and influence they once had.
Snape spied the enormous pantry, and swept toward it with a faint scowl of determination. Inside, he found dried meats, cheeses, and dark loaves of bread. He took them out, and began to cobble together a sandwich. While he constructed it, he had the rather absurdly depressing thought that this could very well be the first and last time he ever made dinner for his wife. Hell, he had never even had the opportunity to wine and dine her, as he had once promised. As hard as he tried to interrupt this dangerous train of thought, he couldn’t help but muse, what if? What if they had met at a different time? What if neither of them had ever been recruited as spies? Severus Snape was not a man who liked to dwell on such things, but he couldn’t help but think that at the moment, any possibility of a future with Freya seemed very unlikely.
These thoughts did not stop his heart from thrumming like a hummingbird had become trapped within his ribcage the moment he heard the gentle click of the latch. The figure that crept warily inside wore a man’s cloak that was far too large for her, and only the lower half of her face showed, her eyes and nose blanketed in dark shadows, yet he knew it was Freya from the way she moved.
“Freya…” He stepped closer, instinctively reaching to grab her shoulders, but in a heartbeat, she raised a finger, stopping him dead in his tracks.
“I may not have my wand, but so help me, I will not hesitate to hex you, Severus Snape.” Her voice was a low, almost feral growl, and he thought he saw her eyes flash within the depths of her hood. The air around her was positively electric with dark magic. It was utterly intoxicating, in spite of the threat, and he felt an irresistible pull, but he steadied himself.
“I…” His voice caught in his throat, and he hesitated, feeling suddenly as nervous as a schoolboy. “I wasn’t sure you would come. How did you escape…him?”
She actually snorted derisively. “That’s not how it works. I’ve been given freedom of the Manor, to maintain certain appearances. The gardens and outer courtyards are forbidden to me. I’m supposed to have a guard at all times,” she added with a faint grimace. Snape did not ask where her guard was this time. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.
“I see.” He muttered quietly. Vidarr’s confidence that his protégé would not escape was unsettling. “As far as prisons go, I suppose it could be worse. The Malfoy estate is famous for its luxury.”
“It’s not so different from when I was stuck inside Hogwarts for all those months, is it?” She feigned an indifferent shrug, but it was not quite convincing.
“For your protection.” Snape bit back defensively. “Or don’t you recall the events that brought you there in the first place?” The memories of his first encounter with Freya Lupin were permanently etched into his mind. He thought he would remember the wild look in her eyes until the day he died.
“Oh I remember. Don’t you worry,” Freya replied mockingly. “So you asked me here so you could point out my many failures? Did you prepare a list, or shall I assist you?
Raising his eyes to the ceiling, he briefly begged Merlin for patience before he gestured impatiently to the table. “No, actually I thought you might be hungry.” She seemed to gaze at the sandwich longingly, but held back, perhaps thinking that it was poisonous. “It’s perfectly safe.” There was an edge of hurt and frustration in his voice. To be so mistrusted by someone he cared for was incredibly painful, though he knew that he deserved it. She only hesitated for a split second, before lunging at the table and tearing into the sandwich with a ferocity that alarmed him. He still couldn’t see her face, but the rate at which she was eating caused the temperature of his blood to slowly rise. For one wild moment, he wished Vidarr was there so he could knock his teeth in.
The sandwich was gone within moments. Freya released a weary sigh as she slumped into a chair, pulling the cloak more tightly around herself, possibly embarrassed by her lack of restraint. “Thank you.” She said softly.
Mustering up a moment of courage, he reached down, and gently pulled the hood back from her face. She glared sourly at him in annoyance, but did nothing to stop him. Snape hissed with dismay at the faint bruise that blossomed purple over her right cheekbone. He had seen its like before. There was a tiny spot of discoloration where Vidarr’s ring had made impact. His finger moved to brush against it, to comfort her, but hesitated when she shook her head fervently. They stared at each other for a long moment, sizing each other up. There was that mistrust again, so evident in her cool gaze, and it hurt him in ways he had not believed possible, but to his surprise, there was concern there as well, and he suddenly remembered that he had a bruise as well. The silence was terribly heavy.
“We match.” He murmured softly, trying to smile as he gestured to the similar injury Lucius had given him. She lifted an eyebrow.
“What do you want, Severus?” She sounded so tired, he had a fleeting urge to wrap her in his cloak and prepare a makeshift bed on the table. It was if she wanted nothing more than to sleep for a thousand years.
“I want to take you away from here.” He admitted, slowly, wincing at the desperation in his own voice.
“Too fucking bad.” She drawled, her lips twisting into a surprisingly Slytherin sneer.
“Listen to me, please.” Snape knelt to the floor, and reached out once more to grasp her shoulder but she smacked it aside. He raised his palms in silent apology. “I will take you to my home at Spinner’s end. You may stay there as long as you like. Or, I will take you to your brother, if that is your wish.”
“I thought the rat was living with you.”
“We’ll get rid of him. He won’t be missed.” He said this quickly, then immediately regretted it when her eyes narrowed.
“Oh yes, just a simple matter of murdering a man. How fortuitous.”
“He’s not precisely an innocent, is he?” Snape growled.
“And how will we get to Spinner’s end?” Her voice had a monotonous, surprisingly bored quality to it. “Will you scale the walls with your wand in your teeth? Take on a dozen werewolves single-handed? Betray your friends? ” It was clear from her tone just what she thought of his fellow death eaters. “I told you. I can’t leave the manor.”
“Oh I don’t know. You seemed to get here easily enough.” Frustration was mounting steadily, and it was all he could do not to snap at her like one of his students. “I’ll pack some supplies for us, and when the time is right, we’ll leave. I know this place better than my own home. If Spinner’s End is out of the question, you can stay with your father until things settle down. I don’t know how, but together we can-”
“Have you even met my father? He detests me.” She growled.
“I know it’s not much, but-“
“You’re drunk.” She cut him off abruptly.
“Yes, very observant of you.” He snarled. “Well, what say you?”
“I say you are being uncharacteristically absurd.” Freya actually managed a soft grin that caused his snarl to melt from his face.
“No, not absurd. I’m going to get you out of this, somehow.” He snapped impatiently. Why couldn’t she see he was trying to save her life?
“No, thank you. Are we done here?”
“Damn it, Freya why won’t you listen to me?” He growled, fisting his hair in anger and frustration.
“Well, let’s think. What could you possibly have done to make me think you can’t be trusted?” Her smile was icy, now. “For all I know, you’re trying to take me to your master who may very well torture me. Do you honestly think I’m so desperate to be free that I would take that risk? Frankly, I’m insulted.”
“It’s better than the alternative.” Snape didn’t want to hear any more. Every word was like a needle in his heart.
“Is it?” She tilted her head. “I’m not so certain, deatheater.” She spat the word as if it left a foul taste in her mouth. “Thank you for the offer, but no. At least with Vidarr, I know where I stand.” The bruise glinted in the dim moonlight that poured in through the kitchen window. “I thought you were one of us,” She said softly. “I can’t believe how stupid I was.” It was as if she’d punched him in the gut. He reached up to her again, desperate to kiss her, to reassure her that he was still on her side, no matter what she believed, but she pulled away sharply. “Don’t. Don’t you dare touch me.” She whispered, suddenly sounding incredibly dangerous.
“Freya…” He began, making his way toward her. She rose suddenly, and smacked him in the face, hard. It knocked him off balance and sent him colliding clumsily against the table, and the sound crackled around them as he gaped at her, astonished. She rained a few half-hearted blows on his chest for good measure. They didn’t hurt him, but he felt his stomach drop at the way she was looking at him.
“No. No, Severus Snape. You do not get to kiss me.” Her eyes glistened. In an instant his heart shattered into a million pieces. “You hunted me down. You tricked me. You sold me out, damn you. I don’t know how you found me, and I don’t care. You brought him right to my doorstep, you fucking arsehole.” She was so furious; her lower lip was trembling ever so slightly. It was clear she had been dying to say this for some time. Snape winced, the truth of her words stinging more than her blows. There were many things left unsaid. They hung in the air like the sword of Damocles. I loved you. I trusted you. But this was so much larger than both of them, and it angered him suddenly that she was placing all of the blame on him. She was making it sound far too simple. Freya turned to leave, but he whipped out his wand, and pointed it at the door. It clicked as soon as she placed her hand on the handle, and he knew that she had felt it lock.
She whipped around, scowling furiously, and growled at him through gritted teeth. “Unlock this door.”
“No. You don’t get to lay accusations at my feet and then walk away.” He straightened his back and gazed down at her intently. “Strike me again, if you’d like, but so help me, you will hear what I have to say.”
“Fuck you.” She snarled.
“I deserve that.” He replied coolly, lifting an eyebrow and bowing ever so slightly as though acquiescing.
“Don’t. Just…don’t.” Her voice quavered. “What you did was unforgivable.”
Snape drew himself up sternly, and he suddenly he was brimming with disdain. “Go ahead and hate me if you must, but you are to blame as well.” Her eyes widened, and for a moment he thought she might lunge for him, but she simply clenched her hands into fists, and glowered instead. “Yes, I found you. In spite of what you believe, I wanted desperately to see you again, yes, I’m that foolish,” He snarled. “The Dark Lord ordered me to trace your whereabouts, and I did so, using clues that you foolishly left for me to find.“ When she opened her mouth to speak, he raised a hand to stop her. “When you killed Barty Crouch, or whatever that thing was, you could have buried his body in whatever forest you were hiding in and left it at that. Hell, you could have let him rot and it would have been smarter. No, instead you sent his head back, with a literal calling card of your design. Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize your work? Do you really think I’m that stupid?” He shook his head angrily, waiting for her to shrink back like a timid schoolgirl, but to her credit, she stood silently and stared at him.
“You just couldn’t resist, could you? You simply had to taunt Vidarr, to let him know that you were not only alive, but more than capable of defending yourself. Luckily for you, we found it before his lot did. The flower crown you left. Hieracium Islandica? Did you think I wouldn’t find out where it grows? What do you take me for, some bumbling fool?” He snorted derisively. Freya groaned softly, and pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly furious with herself. “I wanted to protect you. I wanted you to stay hidden, but you left me no choice. Vidarr was demanding that you be found and brought to him, and finally The Dark Lord agreed, and sent me, because I was the best man for the job. I did not know I was being traced. That was my mistake, and I will surely regret it for the rest of my life.” Jaw set in a determined line, his somber, obsidian eyes studied her face carefully. He had said his piece.
Freya stared, then slowly began to move unnervingly toward him. Snape’s breath caught in his chest at her proximity. Dark energy radiated from her body in waves. He could feel it prickling against his skin, causing the tiny hairs on his arms to stand on end. She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Are you finished?” She asked softly. He nodded bitterly. This reunion wasn’t going at all the way he had wanted. “Then here…” Suddenly she threw out her arms, and covered both of his eyes with her hands. “A gift from me to you.”
A barrage of sounds and smells hits him in a cacophony of sensations. Damp morning air, chilly with frost, and the smell of rotting wood. Sunlight pierces the leafy canopy in a thousand pinpricks. She is praying desperately to every deity she has ever heard of that her heartbeat will slow its terrible rhythm, which seems so very loud in her ears. Surely he will hear it as well. A sickness threatens to overcome her and a sob rises in her chest, but she swallows it desperately. She is being followed, but she feels so very alone.
In an instant, he finds her. Of course he does. One moment he has passed her, the next, he turns his head, and sees her, his lips peeled back in an unnatural smile. All of her training seems to slip from her mind like wisps of smoke. She freezes like frightened dormouse. His pitch black eyes reflect no light, pitiless and inhuman as a shark’s. Barty Crouch Jr. steps into a puddle of sunlight, or rather the thing wearing his skin does. Black bile oozes from the dead man’s lips, dribbling onto his suit, his gaze wide and terrible with almost childish glee. When he giggles, it makes a sound like a spider scuttling on dry wood. “Freeeya.” She closes her eyes, feeling a powerful surge of hatred. When she opens them, she jumps horribly, for he is suddenly inches away and she can see that the skin around his eyes is starting to deteriorate. The contents of her stomach churn ominously. “Yeess. You see it, don’t you? This body is failing me,” He whispers.
She laughs in his face. It is high, and full of fear, but it is a laugh nonetheless. “Crouch’s body rots without his soul. You’re just a worthless meat puppet now.”
“You killed my mate.” He says softly, like a lover might. “I will peel the skin from your bones for what you have done.”
“Your mate went up against a greater force.” She shrugged. “She was in complete control at the time. I had nothing to do with it.”
“What force was this?” He cocks his head, a little too far like a child might, his lips still pulled back from his teeth in a deranged smile.
“Severus Snape.” She whispers, feeling a tiny, warm spark of courage.
The incubus chuckles and leans close, trapping her against the tree. In spite of his horrid appearance, he smells musky and alluring, like amber and sandalwood. She shivers with self-disgust at the erotic memories it triggers, of a dark Potions Master with a cruel smile. This is the way of such creatures. Ever the seducers no matter what bodies they possess. Then, to her horror, the creature before her opens its mouth and begins to speak in Snape’s low, velvety voice. “My seed will burn you from the inside out, witch. When you are dead, I will present your skin to Vidarr. The Dark Lord will provide me with a new body, and a beautiful new mate.”
“How nice for you.” She says darkly, but fear grips her heart.
He seizes her by the throat with a single hand, and lifts her off the ground as easily as if she weighs nothing. A long black tongue rolls from his open mouth, and curls around her chin, tilting it upward. Freya kicks wildly, choking desperately for air. The tongue slithers around her lips, probing for entrance. It pries open her teeth, and plunges inside of her mouth and down her throat, suffocating her, making her gag. It burns, but she can’t scream, even as she feels the muscle wriggling horribly inside of her. Soon, it will either penetrate so deeply that it will burst through her stomach, or it will begin to pump poison inside of her. A slow and painful death either way. Tears stream down her cheeks and her eyes roll upward, choosing to see beauty and light in her last moments instead of the ugliness that leers at her. ‘I am going to die,’ She thinks. Her vision begins to dissipate into a thousand twinkling lights. ‘I love you, Severus…’
Crouch snarls in pain. The tongue-like appendage tears from her throat, and suddenly his hands are gone too. She coughs and sputters horribly, gasping feverishly for air. The tongue suddenly bursts into flames, and shrivels into ash. The creature gapes at her as though seeing her for the first time, and she feels a strangely familiar surge of power rippling through her body. The thin line tattooed upon her chin glows white. She gazes down at the thing living inside a man she’d once loved, and she is just as surprised as he is. Suddenly she smirks and thinks ‘well Severus, it seems our marriage bond still protects me after all.’ It curses at her in a language that human tongues cannot speak as it falls to all fours, retching black bile that steams as it hits the ground.
Freya does not monologue needlessly, as he did, but draws her wand instinctively from her boot, and without uttering a single word, slashes it across his throat in a wide horizontal arc. His head tumbles almost comically from his shoulders. She feels hollow as she gazes at it, then her hands clench into fists. In her mind’s eye Vidarr is smirking at her, taunting her from a safe distance. She knows that eventually he will come for her himself. A white-hot surge of anger flares up inside of her
“I am ready for you,” She murmurs to herself.

Snape gasped as the memory ended so abruptly it made him dizzy. He gaped down at Freya who watched him with an enigmatic look on her face. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I am foolish. Maybe this shit doesn’t come as naturally to me as it clearly does to you.” Freya was closer now, her warm breath billowing white. “You used me, Severus. You took on the form of another man, and only revealed yourself when you knew you’d been caught. You toyed with my emotions, playing with my trust, right until it was time for you to take a stand.” Freya’s icy stare bore into his, evaporating any sense of righteousness he had felt a moment before. “Point out my flaws all you like. Go ahead. Tell me I’m wrong for responding this way. Call me ‘childish’ for spurning you when you dragged me back. None of it will change what you did.”
“What would you like me to do?” Snape whispered, feeling terribly uncomfortable. Begging for forgiveness was not something he knew how to do. She shook her head.
“Is that why I’m here? So that you can make amends?” Her eyebrow was raised in a perfect display of skepticism.
“No, it’s not.” He grimaced, suddenly not quite able to look her in the eye. “I have questions.” The look she gave him was so sad it made his stomach clench.
“I don’t owe you answers.”
“You’re right, but I’d like to ask all the same.” Snape tried to ignore her stormy expression. “What are you to him? His apprentice? Lover?’”
She rolled her eyes in annoyance. “At the moment, I’m whatever he wants me to be.”
“I see.” He frowned at her.
“Any more stupid questions?”
He decided to ignore her digs at him for the time being. “I’ve been wondering about that incident in the hot spring. With the elders…?”
“Ah.” Her face darkened, and she looked away. “I’d rather not discuss the details.”
“You asked for a blessing. A blessing for what?” He prodded gently. She considered him warily, clearly weighing her options, and then she sighed.
“Vidarr gave me an ultimatum.” Freya winced noticeably.
He stiffened as bile rose in his throat. “I overheard, I’m afraid.”
“He wants me to give him sons…the only problem is,” She shuddered, then glanced fearfully behind her as though afraid he might be standing there. Then she leaned in and whispered as softly as she could. “I can’t. That’s what the blessing was for. It’s an ancient charm, used to prevent pregnancy in the event that…” She shuddered. “I couldn’t give him an heir even if I wanted to. I’m completely fucked.”
            He gaped at her, alarmed but ultimately impressed by her foresight. “You knew this would happen. You knew he would find you eventually, and that he would want to…” He felt completely disgusted, and it must have shown on his face, for she blushed crimson even as she glared at him.
            “Yes, but I wanted to face him on my terms,” she growled. “You took that away from me. Now I have no choice.”
“No.” He snarled, taking her by surprise. “He will not touch you.”
“That’s not up to you.” She snapped. “I’m going to do whatever it takes, Severus. Do you understand? If that means letting him do what he wants, Merlin help me, I’m going to do it. “
“NO, Freya! I will not. Let. Him. Have you.” He replied blackly, stalking ever closer.
“Nobody has me. I’m not a PRIZE.” She hissed. “Get that through your thick skull, Severus Snape.”
He suddenly seized her hand, and brought it to his lips. She clenched the hand into a fist, but let out a tiny, choked sigh when he pressed it to his face. “Hate me with every breath in your body, but come away with me. Tonight. We’ll be in America by morning. Damn it I love you.”
“I don’t believe you.” Freya whispered. He placed her hand on his chest so she could feel the rhythmic pounding of his heart, then reached out with his own and gently touched the thin indigo line that was tattooed on her lower lip, an everlasting symbol of the bond they had forged between them.
“Believe this. Forget the Order. Forget the Dark Lord. Forget the beast on your doorstep. I am bound to you. Like it or not, you are bound to me as well. I will take you far away from here as soon as I am able.”
“It’s too late for that.” Her whisper was fearful. “I have to stay.”
“What could possibly be keeping you here?” He snapped, highly alarmed.
“I can’t tell you.” She replied simply.
“Did Dumbledore set this up? Has he been in contact with you?” His lip quivered with rage, and inwardly he swore that he would spit in his eye the next time he saw the headmaster. Freya pursed her lips, as though offended.
“Dumbledore,” She snorted. “I’m done being his puppet. I follow my own orders now.”
Snape grimaced, but nodded his understanding. Silently, he reached out to caress her cheekbone, and this time she did not pull away from his touch. “How often has he done this?” He growled.
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” She grinned darkly.
“And the others? Has that lanky, redheaded bastard touched you? I’ll have his eyes out if he has.”
“Not yet.” She whispered, suddenly sounding frightened.
            “What does that mean, Freya?” Snape demanded.
            “It doesn’t concern you.” She said loftily, raising her eyebrows.
            “IT DOES, DAMN YOU!” He was so furious his voice trembled. “Why won’t you let me help you?”
            “I don’t want your help, alright? You’ve put me in enough danger already.” She said coldly. “This can’t happen again.” She gestured at the space between them. “Do you understand? I won’t risk it.”
            “Then why are you here?” He demanded.
            “That stunt you pulled earlier was foolish, and reckless. I can’t have you interfering again.”
            Snape’s short bark of laughter was harsh. “Oh that is simply rich, coming from you.”
            Freya squeezed her eyes tightly as if fighting the urge to scream, but seemed to swallow it down.
            “So that’s it then?” He prodded. “Freya Lupin, always professional, never letting her feelings get the better of her? Oh wait, that’s right, that can’t be true, because you’ve never been in control of your feelings in your entire life.” Severus didn’t know why he felt the need to pick a fight. It just felt good to say something nasty. It made him feel in control, somehow.
            “Fuck you, you bloody…” She was panting heavily, her face contorting with the effort to keep it stony and impassive. “…Slytherin!”
            He chuckled cruelly. This was hardly the way he’d expected this to go, but if she was going to be so difficult… “Go on, slap me again. You know you want to.”
            “Stop that.”
            “Stop WHAT? You haven’t let me DO anything!”
            “Stop confusing me!”
            “Tell me the truth, Freya.” He growled. “Why won’t you let me help you?”
            Freya bit her lip so hard he was surprised she didn’t draw blood. Then, the words burst from them as if she’d been struggling to contain them. “He’s going to kill you. Don’t you understand?” Her voice was shrill and so terrified that it had the same sobering effect as a bucket of icy water. Snape instinctively placed his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “I have to do this. The things he’s capable of…” She clenched her fists, and to his surprise, several tears welled up beneath her lashes, but she blinked them away. “I knew I would have to face him eventually, but you…” She shook her head vehemently. “Why did you have to challenge him like that? WHY didn’t you just stay away from me, you stupid, stupid man?”
            Snape gaped at her, genuinely shocked, not at the claim, but at the terrible passion with which she’d said it. Then, slowly but surely, a smug, satisfied grin spread across his lips. “Ah, witch. You almost had me fooled. I’ll give you that.”
            Freya looked at him as though he’d suddenly sprouted antlers. “Did you hear what I said?”
            “Oh, I heard it, Freya.” Snape smirked as he moved closer, bending down until his prominent nose nearly touched hers. “I heard everything you didn’t say, as well.”
            Freya was astonished. “Are you mad?”
            “Little Freya Lupin.” He tentatively reached up to gently toy with a lock of red hair. “You are still hopelessly, and irrevocably in love with me.”
            “You’re delusional.” She whispered.
            “Why even bother denying it?” He chuckled. “You just admitted you would do anything it takes to save my life. Why deny yourself what you really want?” His voice was a low, velvet caress, but it did not have the effect he’d intended.
            “BECAUSE YOU LIED TO ME.” She spat, her eyes filling up with angry tears.
He gaped at her in astonishment. “Of all the things you should hate me for, that’s the one you’ve chosen?”
            “I don’t hate you,” She breathed, straightening herself up to look him hard in the eye. “I’m royally pissed off. I trusted you, and you fucked it all up. You want to help me? Leave me alone. Just go away, Severus Snape.” Her voice quavered unconvincingly. “I…I don’t want to see you again.”
            “Now who’s the liar?” He snarled, seizing her by the shoulders and pulling her in for a furious kiss. For a moment she struggled against him, but slowly, irresistibly, she succumbed, whimpering softly against his lips, which still tasted faintly of whiskey. Her fingers dug into the back of his coat as he buried his into her thick wavy hair, greedily plundering her sweet mouth, trying desperately to pour himself into her, as if he could regain her trust by the simple act of kissing her. She pulled away and gazed up at him, drunk with longing. It was clear that she wanted to turn away before they lost control, but the pleasure was too great for Severus’ inebriated mind. “Mmm…more,” He groaned softly before tasting her again, with incredible urgency. She sighed deeply, and he couldn’t resist reaching down, and wrapping an arm around her waist, pulling her hips firmly to his in act of dominance that made her positively melt. In spite of his drunkenness, he felt himself stiffen, but when he pressed urgently against her, she seemed to suddenly come to her senses, and she pushed him away, gasping for breath, her eyes wide with shock.
“Are you insane? You want to do that now?” She hissed.
Snape grinned, eyeing her swollen lips, and the hazy lust in those blue eyes. “So do you. I can play you like a fiddle, my dear. I think you’ll forgive me eventually, witch.” He spoke languidly, watching with interest as a faint blush bloomed across her cheeks.
            “Fuck you.” She breathed, though the insult was not nearly as forceful this time.
            “Whenever you’d like.” He purred languidly. Snape couldn’t tell if it was the booze clouding his senses, but the fact that they were meeting in this clandestine fashion was admittedly intoxicating. The danger of it excited him, the prospect that at any moment they might be caught.
            She stared at him for a moment. “I think we’re done here.”
            “Freya.” He raised her hand to his lips again, and kissed her knuckles. For a moment, she hesitated, and traced his stubble gently with her fingertips.
            “I have to go back. He’ll have noticed I’ve gone by now.”
            “Are you going to sleep with him?” He asked quietly, trying not to betray any hint of emotion, but knowing he had failed when she gave him a sad little smile.
            “I’m going to do what I must.”
            “I’ll kill him, you know. If you ask me to, I’ll find his chambers right now, and murder him in his bed. Damn the consequences.”
            Freya gave him a warm, genuine smile that time. “Not if I do him in first.”
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Spy vs. Spy