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
- 26
- 27
- 28
“Tell me which room she’s in, or so help me I will curse you into next week!” Snape growled down at the blonde mediwitch, who became very red in the face. Unfortunately for Snape, she was also clearly determined not to be intimidated, in spite of the wizard who towered over her with a thunderous expression on his pale face. His black eyes glinted as she made a show of peering over the rims of her glasses at the chart in her hands.
“I’m afraid the healer in charge of overseeing Miss Lupin’s care has expressly forbidden visitors with the exception of immediate family…” She trailed off uncertainly, and Severus realized she was staring not at him, but at the group of people who were walking very rapidly down the pristine white corridor of St. Mungo’s hospital. Minerva Mcgonagall was taking great strides, her green robes billowing behind her with every step, with Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt trailing not far behind. The matching looks of determination on their faces were positively alarming, but it was nothing compared to the ugly expression that twisted Severus’ features as he considered setting fire to the chart that apparently stood between him and Freya.
“I am her husband.” Snape growled dangerously under his breath. “You will let me pass.”
“If that is the case, then you may register and receive a name tag at the front desk, Mr. Lupin.” The witch replied with no small amount of skepticism, adjusting her glasses primly as she did so. Severus was so taken aback at being addressed this way that he failed to make a customarily snide remark until Mcgonagall was at his shoulder, tactfully stepping between them, to the Mediwitch’s obvious relief. Kingsley cleared his throat meaningfully, and Snape glared back at him, fully prepared to take all three order members down himself if they insisted on keeping him away. To his surprise, Kingsley made a discreet glance at the letter that Minerva was handing off to the very flustered mediwitch. The message was clear. ‘Let us handle this.’ He opened his mouth to speak, but Tonks placed a hand on the back of his robes, and pulled him back more aggressively than he would have preferred.
“I have a missive from Albus Dumbledore,” Minerva said in an official tone, as though that put everything in order.
“That’s very nice, but unfortunately Albus Dumbledore does not have power at St. Mungo’s. I answer only to Head Healer Smethwyck.” Her voice held an infuriating lilt that had Severus reaching for his wand. Luckily, Tonks was quick to seize his wrist before he could.
“Simmer down, or you’ll be leaving this hospital in a handbag,” She murmured with unnatural sweetness that made the words all the more threatening. Snape scowled blackly, tossing his hair back to consider her for a moment. It seemed that Tonks had been sent to more or less keep him in line, and the way she tapped the wand holster at her belt had him thinking she was more than prepared for the job.
Minerva was unfazed. “Forgive me, but you’ll find that isn’t strictly true. In fact, if one were to pop into the dragon pox wing on the second floor, one might find the placard dedicated to the Headmaster. You see, he donated the wing some time around 1912.” She smiled patiently at the look of indignation the Mediwitch’s face. “You see, Professor Dumbledore has quite a bit of sway at St. Mungo’s.”
“Forgive me, madam but even so…this is all highly irregular. I’m afraid I’ll have to double check with the healer in charge.” She replied, sounding somewhat suspicious, but far more relieved to be speaking to a person who did not appear to be holding back to urge to hex her.
“You’ll find that she has already signed her consent. Just there, you see?” She pointed to the signature. “The three of us are to be given access to the patient in room thirteen.”
The mediwitch looked highly skeptical, but read the letter that Minerva handed to her, and finally conceded with a curt nod. “Very well, but I must insist that this gentleman remain in the waiting room. He’s been intensely rude, and I’m afraid he might upset the other patients.”
Snape was about to say something very nasty that described just where he thought she should shove that medical chart, but Kingsley placed a hand on his shoulder and cut in silkily. “Believe me madam, if Severus wishes to accompany us, there is very little anyone could do to stop him. Summon security trolls if you must, but I fear you would only end up with a messy PR nightmare. I understand this is a broach in protocol, but these are very unique circumstances. Should your immediate supervisor call into question the number of visitors, please have them contact me at the muggle prime minister’s office in London. I would hate for such an enchanting witch to get into trouble over this trifling affair” He handed her a crisp business card with elegant purple lettering. “This is, of course, my private number.” The mediwitch sputtered for a bit, but blushed very prettily, and thanked him with a shy glance. Suddenly she seemed at least ten years younger as she batted her eyelashes. Severus rolled his eyes, but was secretly impressed, in an envious sort of way. Kingsley had always possessed a level of charm that he could only ever aspire to.
They left the still swooning mediwitch and began walking very quickly down the winding halls where other patients and hospital staff widely ignored them. Snape fell in behind Tonks and muttered, “Where is Dumbledore? I thought he’d be here by now.”
“He’s tied up in his office, talking to Scrimgeour.”
“Borrowing a tin of Sleakeazy’s hair potion, was he?” Snape asked sarcastically. She snorted with amusement, but shot him a warning glance.
“Try not to overreact,” Tonks said darkly “but Minister Scrimgeour isn’t exactly pleased with recent developments. He wants to arrest Freya as soon as she’s well again.”
“On what charges?!” He snapped furiously. “If that overblown arse thinks he can just lock her away like Stan Shunpike….”
“Keep your voice down,” Tonks hissed when several mediwizards paused mid conversation to stare at them. “Well, murder for one.”
“Never proven,” he snapped.
“I think you’ll find the ministry doesn’t care much for evidence these days,” She muttered blackly. “In either case, it doesn’t look good, does it?” Tonks sounded far more worried than he would have liked. “Don’t forget, she was wanted for extradition after what happened at the Ministry.”
“Those charges were dropped months ago, and in case you’ve forgotten, the man they sent turned out to be the same murderous werewolf who held her hostage.” The deep growl in Severus’ chest made him sound part werewolf himself.
“The only ones who can confirm that besides you are Fudge and Dolores fucking Umbridge, and neither of them are too popular at the moment.” She frowned. “Well, Umbridge has managed to wheedle her way back somewhat, but I doubt we’d want her testimony even if she agreed to give one. The ministry is desperate for good press and right now, Freya looks like a very pretty scapegoat.”
“I’ll testify if it comes to it.”
“That’s a bad idea, mate, even if Dumbledore will allow it, and you know he won’t. We need you to lie low. And besides, what would you say if you could? I mean no one actually knows what happened that night but you, and Remus of course…” She trailed off at the black look of utter disdain that he gave her.
“And that’s the last you’ll hear me speak of it.” Snape said sharply. He had been tight lipped since he’d appeared at St. Mungos the night before, clutching his unconscious lover, screaming for help with hot tears carving trails through the blood on his face. Three drunken muggles staggering out of the nearby pub had had their memories wiped after they’d found him, cradling Freya’s head in his lap, begging madly to every deity that might have been listening to save her. The ministry was furious, but he didn’t care. Lupin had apparated with him, and had maintained a far clearer head as they staggered into the hospital together, although Severus would never forget the way he’d howled, only moments before, when he’d thought his baby sister had been murdered. He shuddered, refusing to dwell on the carnage that had led them to that terrible moment.
Snape was not aware of reaching the door marked 13 until Minerva raised a hand to knock, but he scowled and pushed his way through impatiently before she could. Damn her privacy and damn the niceties. She could be stark naked for all he cared.
Freya raised an eyebrow over her copy of The Witches Friend magazine, then propped herself up onto her elbows. It was for show, and he knew it. There had been so much blood that night. Her blood. He’d spent hours washing his hands of it, even after they were clean. Snape scowled as he searched her face for evidence of what he suspected, but found very little. He’d seen the blade, and the look of shock on her face. Freya’s arms were covered in deep, angry cuts, and a several inches of her hair had been singed off in unsightly patches. Otherwise she seemed well, apart from her lack of color, which was a far cry from the last time he’d seen her. “You’ve cleaned yourself up, I see.” He thought, knowing that she would hear. “I trust you told them about the poison? I pulled the blade out myself witch, and I know wolfsbane when I smell it. Why would Tor carry such a weapon?”
“I want to see my brother,” Freya said firmly, completely ignoring him. She snapped the magazine closed and tossed it onto the nightstand with a determined set of her jaw.
“Enough of that. You’re in no position to be making demands, Freya.” Tonks snapped, pursing her lips.
“I am in exactly the right position to make demands, and I demand to see Remus.”
They glared at eachother warily for a moment, then Tonks, unable to control herself, lunged at Freya with alarming speed, causing the witch to flinch terribly before she realized she was being pulled into a ferocious hug, and was not under attack. “Wotcher, you bloody hag,” she sniffed. “We were so, so worried.” She kissed her friend on the forehead, but frowned down at her. “How could you just disappear like that?”
“I’m a complete arse, I know. You can make me pay for it later, after I’ve seen Remus.” Freya said with a sigh as Tonks pulled away.
“You nearly gave us a heart attack. Snape here nearly went mad, didn’t he?”
“Oh yes, I can see that.” Freya said wryly.
Snape’s lip curled in response. “That’s right witch, treat the whole thing with sarcasm,” He muttered blackly, not liking the way she was smirking.
“How are you feeling, Freya?” Kingsley asked in the same low, pleasant voice he’d used on the Mediwitch. Snape felt a small twinge of annoyance. “You look terribly peaky. The healer said you were still weak from…what was it again?”
“I never said, and I don’t intend to. Yet. Nice try.” She winked, and Severus felt a low stirring of jealousy. Freya did not acknowledge his presence in any way, but said again, “I want to see Remus. Now.”
“You’re not well enough to stand, let alone-“
“I’ll take you to him.” Snape said. “Since that’s all you seem to care about.” All eyes turned to him, except for Freya’s. She was looking at the floor, a light pink blush spreading across her pale cheeks. He should have been pleased to see she was properly ashamed for what she’d done, but it only annoyed him.
“You can’t!” Tonks hissed “Dumbledore said…”
“Dumbledore can hang. Remus was there. He was part of it. You weren’t. None of you were.” Freya looked up at him and smiled gratefully, but he scowled at her and it melted away as quickly as a snowflake on a hot cauldron. Turning aside, he left the hospital room briefly, and bullied a passing orderly into summoning a wheelchair. Freya accepted assistance from McGonagall, in spite of Tonks’ continued protests.
“Oh do be quiet, Nymphadora. No one respects Albus more than I, but for the love of Merlin’s bloody great trousers, he is not the king of all wizardkind!” Minerva snapped, much to everyone’s surprise. Freya giggled at the look of shock on Tonks’ face.
“Laugh all you like, you tart! Don’t think I’ve forgotten the scare you gave us!” Tonks admonished her when they wheeled her out into the hall, but a smile was tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“I haven’t seen Minerva tell you to shut up since I slipped you that giggle water in sixth year.” Freya smirked.
“As I recall, that particular incident ended rather poorly for you, Miss. Lupin. What was that spell you used, Tonks?” McGonagall smiled conspiratorially, in spite of herself.
“It was a melofors jinx.” Tonks replied wickedly. “It took Charlie Weasley almost half an hour to pull her head out of that pumpkin. She was still plucking seeds out of her hair come dinnertime!” Freya made a very rude hand gesture in response, and soon both ladies were giggling together. The chatter continued in the elevator, all the way to the first floor for creature-induced injuries.
The laughter died on their lips when they entered Lupin’s room. It smelled strongly of murtlap and disinfectant. Remus opened the eye that wasn’t covered with a bandage, and smiled warmly at them. It was almost enough to distract from the sight of his mangled chest. Horrible deep gauges criss-crossed his entire torso, but they were nothing compared to the bite wound that Severus knew lay beneath the many layers of gauze on his neck. The healers were still uncertain what effects, if any, would come of such a wound. It was a strange case, to be sure.
Freya wheeled herself over to her brother, and clambered onto the bed to pull him in for a careful hug. Snape looked away, feeling strangely embarrassed to be witnessing this familial gesture. It was all too easy to imagine them embracing this way as children. Remus’ eyes were suspiciously bright as he held his sister.
“Freya, your side…” He began. Freya shook her head jerkily, silencing him before he could finish the thought.
Tonks started, somewhat awkwardly, and Severus sneered at her, knowing that she desperately wished she could embrace Remus as well. In spite of his cold treatment of her, she still loved the brute. Lupin grunted with a bit of discomfort, but kept his arms wrapped protectively around his sister all the same. She murmured something the rest of them could not hear, and he smiled as if it pained him. “It’s alright. You’re alive and safe and that’s all that matters. On top of it, I seem to have made it out more or less in one piece.” His voice was rough and broken. It would be months before it was normal again.
“What happened in there, Remus?” Kingsley demanded, showing somewhat less of that cool suaveness he’d used on Freya earlier.
Lupin chuckled hoarsely. “Ah, no you don’t, Kingsley. The less that is known, for now, the better. I defer to my sister on all things related to the events at Malfoy Manor.” He smiled warmly at Freya. “I trust her.”
Freya’s eyes were bright with tears as she searched her brother’s scarred face. “Remus…did you get close enough?” She whispered. Kigsley frowned at this and shot Severus an inquiring glance, which he ignored. He was staring at Freya intently. This bit of insight, he was not yet privy to. Lupin’s face grew ashen, and an expression that can only be described as the deepest guilt became etched on his features as he refused to meet his sister’s gaze.
“I…I’m sorry. I don’t think I cut deep enough.” His eyes grew large and round as saucers as he seized her hand. “Freya, he’s still out there, somewhere.”
Freya stared down at their joined hands, but didn’t say anything. Severus felt the floor of his stomach drop, sickeningly. He may not have fully understood what had just transpired between the siblings, but there was no doubt in his mind who he was. Anger and frustration roiled inside of him like dueling serpents, and he glowered ferociously at Lupin.
“So it was all for nothing, was it?” He spat. “You two conspired together, laying your clever little traps, and yet you failed, just as you fail at everything else?”
Tonks whirled on him angrily, the ends of her spiky pink hair turning bright scarlet, ready to defend the man she loved but it was Freya who spoke.
“Shut up.”
Snape stared at her, still angry, but feeling a cold, sharp sting that only she was capable of delivering. “You will not speak to my brother that way, Severus Snape.” She struggled to her feet. Minerva rushed to her side and held her elbow to steady her, and she swayed alarmingly, clutching her side, but her eyes bore into Snape like icy poniards. “It’s your fault. Yours. If you had just stayed hidden like you were supposed to…” She growled, suddenly seeming rather wolf like herself, although he knew for a fact she had avoided the bite.
“What, your brilliant scheme might have worked?” He sneered contemptuously.
“Yes.” Freya hissed. The accusation in her eyes hurt more than that single word, but Snape was not about to be beaten down, not in front of the other Order members.
“Blame yourself, witch. If only your little body bind curse had been a bit stronger.”
“If only.” She agreed, her mouth twisting into a mirror of his disdain.
He sputtered, furious that she would defend her actions, although this was hardly the reunion he had envisioned, now that they were safe from werewolves and potions and knives in the dark. He watched her turn back to Lupin, and reached out tentatively to her in their secret way, not wanting the others to hear.
“I was trying to save your life, witch,” he thought, brushing her mind with his.
“Well NOBODY ASKED YOU TO!” She snarled viciously. The others looked at each other in bewilderment.
“Freya, he didn’t say anything.” Tonks said gently, sounding worried that perhaps her friend had been hit on the head. Freya rolled her eyes, then turned to her brother.
“Don’t worry. You’re going to get well if I have to take you out of the country to do it. These healers think they know everything, but I once met a daayani in Delhi who…”
“That won’t be necessary, Freya. I assure you that Remus will receive the best of care. As will you once we return together to Hogwarts.”
They all turned to the doorway to find Albus Dumbledore smiling at them, his hands tucked into his very large sleeves to conceal the ruined one. Everyone seemed to relax at the sight of him, as though his presence meant that everything would be all right and there was nothing to fear. Severus did not have such delusions, and neither it seemed did Freya, who looked at him warily. “I’m perfectly fine here. The mediwitches have been extremely helpful.” She was backpeddling fast. Clearly she was not eager to be back under the headmaster’s watchful gaze.
“I have no doubt that they would be, if they understood the extent of your injuries. Now where is the aconite blade you so cleverly fashioned?” His eyes twinkled at the horrified expression on Freya’s face, but to everyone’s surprise, Dumbledore included, it was McGonagall who answered.
“It has been secured, Albus. I saw to it myself.”
They all stared at her. “You did?” Dumbledore sounded incredulous.
“Of course she did. She was in on it from the start.” Freya sounded bored and exasperated.
The room erupted into indignation at such a confession. Kingsley’s booming voice demanded an explanation, while Remus sounded shocked and hurt that no one had told him. Tonks seemed uncertain as to whether or not she was joking. Severus simply watched as Miverva frowned at Freya. “I sent you the book. Gave you weeks of my own research. You still didn’t tell me what you were up to. I could have been more useful.”
“I didn’t want you trying to talk me out of it.”
“Talk you out of WHAT?” Tonks shouted. “You still haven’t told us what happened!”
“Scrimgeour will be here any moment, Freya.” Kingsley warned. “They will interrogate you, by force if necessary. They won’t care about your injuries. You must tell us everything before they arrive.”
“A conversation best held back at the school, away from strange ears,” Dumbledore chimed in. Before anyone could argue, he reached into his deep pockets, and pulled out a teacup that had clearly been swiped from the hospital tea and gift shop on the top floor. It began to pulsate with a light blue aura. “Please touch the portkey, everyone. You too, Remus. I’ve already filed for your release from this fine establishment. Madam Pomfrey is eager to get her hands on you. On both of you.” He shot Freya a look over the rims of his half moon spectacles, and she hesitantly placed a finger on the portkey along with the rest of them. In a flash, they had vanished.

The castle was beautiful, kissed by the ethereal glow of the rising sun. He would have taken a moment to admire it, but unfortunately, the journey seemed to have been too much for Freya, for she took two shaky steps, and quickly passed out. Snape caught her beneath the arms and her head lolled back onto his shoulder.
“Oh…Oh dear.” Mcgongall’s eyes widened into dinner plates, and she pointed at the front of Freya’s hospital robes. A dark red stain was spreading crimson across her abdomen.
“Oh Merlin. Oh Freya, no!” Tonks screamed. “No no no, come on darling, wake up!” She reached for her friend, cupping her face and slapping it gently in an attempt to bring her back.
Snape growled up at Dumbledore. “Don’t just stand there!”
Looking grim, the headmaster flicked his wand, and Freya began to float, gently hovering on her back, cushioned by an invisible force. McGonagall withdrew a tartan handkerchief from her pocket, and immediately pressed it to the bloody wound. Remus looked horrifically pale with shock, as if he was about to pass out himself.
“Don’t you dare, Lupin,” Severus snarled.
“I don’t understand,” Tonks shrieked. “She was fine a minute ago! We were laughing together! She was fine!”
“She’s not fine you stupid girl.” Severus spat, eager to have someone to target his rage at. “Didn’t you hear what Albus said? Read between the lines. She’s been stabbed with an aconite blade.”
“So what? She’s not a bloody werewolf!” Tonks shrieked, not noticing Lupin’s wince.
“A lot of good that will do her, it seems.” Kingsley muttered. Snape shot him a poisonous glare.
            “We should have left her at St. Mungos. We should never have moved her. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.” Tonks was babbling, the panic clear in her shrill voice. Snape could tell that she was thinking of Sirius. It was far too soon to be losing yet another friend. It annoyed him to see her shouldering the blame.
            “Oh yes very astute,” he sneered. “I’m sure the minister would have been happy to-“
            “Shut up, both of you.” Minerva snapped back at them, silencing them like bickering children.
No one said anything else until they’d reached the hospital wing, where Poppy was waiting to feverishly bombard them with questions. Lupin was quickly ushered to a bed, where he immediately refused to stay. Tonks spent a great deal of time quibbling with him until he barked at her to leave him be.
“Minerva, help me get this gown off her. Severus, fetch me the vial labeled two hundred twelve, three good doses of blood replenishment draught and some of that dreamless sleep potion. Oh and the silver flask, while you’re at it. Quickly now!” Poppy fixed him with a glare that told him exactly what she’d do if he dawdled, not that he had any intention of doing so. He flew to her potions cupboard to fill his arms with the supplies.
When he returned, Minerva had stripped Freya of her hospital robes, leaving her naked and exposed, apart from several stained bandages that reeked of dittany. She’d kept these injuries carefully hidden to maintain the illusion of health. Snape wanted to shield her to protect her privacy, but he could only watch stupidly as Minerva gently positioned her so that she was sitting upright with her back propped by pillows. Her hands were stained with blood. The sight made him feel ill. “So much blood. Just like that night. Only no howling this time,” He thought, watching as Madam Pomfrey gingerly lifted a particularly bloody bandage just beneath Freya’s ribs. As soon as she’d glimpsed what lay beneath, she snapped the bandage back in place. Dumbledore was in the process of raising privacy curtains around her when Poppy snapped up at them.
“Hand me that replenishment draught, then get out. ALL of you.”
The others looked at one another, then Albus spoke up. “I’m sorry, Poppy but I’m afraid we need answers.”
“You won’t get ANYTHING if she dies.” The ferocity in her voice would have made a basilisk tremble. “Now get out, or so help me Albus…”
“Very well.” He held up his one good hand in surrender, then turned with a sigh. “Let us leave them. Remus, I believe that sleeping potion is for you.”
Snape grabbed the vial in question and tossed it to Lupin, who caught it, then opened his mouth to argue. “Do what you’re told, werewolf.” After everything he’d seen, the word held far more than just an insult. Reluctantly, Lupin drank it down, then clambered into the next bed with a little assistance from Tonks, and closed the curtains. After a sharp glare from both Severus and Madam Pomfrey, Minerva left the hospital wing as well, taking Tonks with her in spite of her loud protests.
“You too, Severus.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Poppy. I think you know that.”
“You’re a stubborn ass, Severus Snape.” Poppy snapped.
“That I am.” He conceded. “You’ll have to duel me if you want me to leave, and we both know there isn’t time.”
“Fine. Make yourself useful and fashion a poultice. A strong one. Use hellebore, but only a drop, and burdock. Lots of burdock. Be quick about it.”
He scowled at her, thinking she was only telling him this to get him out of her way, but then she peeled back the bandages that clung wetly to Freya’s side, and he saw the ugly mess she’d tried to hide from them earlier. The wound had been cleaned before, but it was deep and ghastly. He was reminded sickeningly of Vidarr’s empty, gaping eye socket. Tendrils of black and purple crept up the flesh around it, staining the musculature beneath the skin. He knew it was the wolfsbane oozing through her veins, stretching its fingers toward her heart. The sight gripped him with a reality that was impossible to ignore.
“She’s going to die.” He said in a dull, monotonous voice.
“Not on my watch,” Poppy snorted. “Make that poultice for me.
Not knowing how to respond, he turned away and returned to her medical cabinet. This much he could do at least. He eyed up the already peeled and cleaned burdock root and began to grate it into a large mortar and pestle; using a bit more than he knew was strictly necessary before mincing up two fat shrivelfigs and mashing them into a sticky pulp. His fingers were quick and nimble. They danced across the ingredients that he knew so well, and for a brief moment he mused that perhaps he had missed his calling. How different his life might have been had he pursued the life of a healer rather than answering the siren song of Tom Riddle. Perhaps Lilly would still be alive. Perhaps he and Freya would never have met. The poultice soon became thick and sticky and he had to stop himself from pounding it into mush. He sprinkled a pinch of powdered leaping toadstool, and it congealed into a single mass the color of marmalade. Then he drizzled a single drop of hellebore down the side of the mortar, and folded it in carefully. Too little would do nothing for the pain. Too much could cause her to go into shock.
When he handed the poultice to Poppy, she sniffed it, then gave him a grim nod of approval. He watched as she set it aside, and drew a shining needle from her apron pocket.
“Those ninnies at St. Mungos have never had much time for muggle healing,” she sniffed. “Shows what they know. If they’d sealed this up properly, maybe she wouldn’t be in this mess.” She unraveled a single thread of long, shimmering silver. “Unicorn hair. It will stop the poison in its tracks. With any luck, it won’t have time to reach any vital organs.”
Part of him wanted to protest, but he held his tongue and resigned himself to watching Poppy complete her grisly task. Freya whimpered softly with every stab of the needle, but the Mediwitch was as quick as she was thorough. Poppy could have been the head healer at any wizarding hospital she wanted. She could have been the head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. She had chosen to care for the students of Hogwarts, just as he had chosen the life of a spy.
Feeling somewhat humbled, he summoned a bowl of water and a clean washrag, then sat wearily next to the bed and began dabbing at Freya’s brow. Poppy uncorked a vial and shook several drops onto the now properly sealed wound. It hissed wickedly for several moments, re-growing new skin around the silver stitches she had made. She drew her wand and began siphoning the access blood away. Freya mumbled something in her sleep, and her brow furrowed. A rivulet of thick black bile dribbled from the corner of her mouth. He wiped it away and frowned up at Poppy. “Is there anything we can give her for the pain?”
She pursed her lips angrily. “No. The pain is our friend, in this case. Her body needs to purge the poison. We can help it along, but the process could kill her. When it stops, we’ll know if she’s detoxed properly. Aconite, or I suppose I should say wolfsbane, may be famous for it’s toxicity to werewolves, but in high enough doses it can be deadly to even the strongest witch. But, for now the wound is sealed, and the poison contained. Properly this time.” She sounded as if she would have liked nothing more than to send a few well-aimed bat bogey hexes at the healers of St. Mungos. She sighed wearily, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, then gestured at the silver flask she’d asked him to bring. He handed it to her, thinking it was more medicine, but instead she flicked the latch open, and took a swig herself. “Here. You look like you could use it.” He nodded his appreciation, and drank several swallows of what turned out to be cooking sherry. “Well, Freya, here we are again,” Poppy said to her unconscious patient. “You’re not trying to fight me this time, so that’s something.” She reached down and felt her forehead. “Professor Snape’s going to watch over you, dear, even though he looks piss poor himself.” This was said with a final glare in his direction, which he tactfully ignored. “There’s a drawer in my desk.” She pointed toward her office. “I keep a bottle of Ogden’s old in there for occasions such as these. Help yourself. There’s nothing to do but hope she makes it through the night.”
            “Sleep well, Poppy. And thank you.” He did not watch her leave, but instead stared at Freya with a hard glint in his eyes. Then he leaned close to her and whispered venomously. “You’d better not die, witch. I’ve a mind to kill you myself. Kicking the bucket now would be incredibly rude.” He took another swig of sherry, and it all came tumbling out. “Did you really think you could simply leave me under that bed? That I wouldn’t fight your curse with every scrap of energy I could muster? You’re a foolish witch if you think I would have just waited, not knowing if you were being torn apart.” He watched her for a minute. She twitched and moaned in her sleep. “This is the second time I’ve had to nurse you back to health like this. Let me make a promise to you. It will be the last. I’m done with you, Freya. I’m going to cut out the part my heart that aches for you and I’m going to toss it into the fire. As soon as you’re well, I’m going to march down to ministry myself and demand our divorce papers. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Then you’ll be free to do whatever you like. Get yourself blown up, for all I care.” He drained the flask, then performed a summoning charm. Poppy’s whiskey came flying from her office and he caught it deftly. It was sharp and it burned horribly going down, for which he was incredibly grateful.
            “Remus.” Freya opened her eyes, which were glazed over with pain. His harsh words momentarily forgotten, he seized the damp cloth, and wiped the sweat from her brow.
            “He’s fine,” He muttered gruffly.
            “I’m…” She winced with pain, and her entire body convulsed horribly for a moment in a fit of contractions. It was horrible to watch, but when it was over she smiled at him, and tears of relief filled her eyes. “Tell them what happened.”
            “You’ll tell them yourself in the morning,” he said angrily. “You’ll tell them, and then Rufus Scrimgeour will have no choice but to pin a great bloody medal on you.” She murmured something inaudible, then her eyes rolled back into her head. More of the black bile bubbled and steamed from her lips, pouring down her chin. Severus cursed in alarm, then scrambled onto the bed, propping her up so that she wouldn’t choke. Freya seized up, and released a thin cry of pain that shattered his heart. He held her like that, holding the rag beneath her chin to wipe her face clean with the other hand wrapped around her ribs beneath her bare breasts. “I can’t do this, Freya. Not again.” He choked. “I lost Lilly. I couldn’t protect her, either. If only I hadn’t loved her so much. If only I hadn’t been so selfish…I should have been there, fighting by your side. Why wouldn’t you let me?” His voice cracked with anguish, uncertain how much of this confession she could actually hear. Freya closed her eyes and he watched several tears escape beneath her lashes. He began to rock her, steadily back and forth, whispering into her hair. “Why wouldn’t you let me?”
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Spy vs. Spy