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
- 27
- 28
- 29
Severus slept better that night than he had in ages, and when he awoke, he was pleasantly surprised, though slightly dismayed, to find himself lying in his own clean hospital bed. He sat up and rolled his shoulders, feeling the joints crack pleasantly. Morning streamed through the windows, creating bright puddles of light on the flagstones, and for a moment he allowed himself to watch the silent movement of spores caught in their beams. It was in this brief moment of wistfulness that he concluded Poppy had kept a little more than just cooking sherry in that flask she’d given him.
            The spell was broken by the sound of rustling paper, and he realized with a grimace that Lupin was sitting at his bedside in a large comfortable armchair he must have conjured himself. The werewolf was wearing house slippers, and blue striped hospital pajamas. Fresh scars on his hands stood out in stark relief on his pale skin. Mementos of a violent time that contrasted strangely with his attire, though the man seemed content in spite of the faint frown he wore. This was hardly surprising, as the newspaper had not printed anything cheerful in months.
            “Tea?” Lupin asked, not glancing up from his Daily Prophet.
            “Obviously,” he grunted, propping himself up gingerly, and then scowling with annoyance when he realized he too was wearing striped pajamas. Damned Poppy. If Remus noticed, he was too polite to mention it. The former professor flicked his wand, and soon a steaming mug was sailing toward Severus, who caught it deftly and took a sip. His mouth twisted with distaste. “You would put sugar in your tea.” He grumbled, not without humor.
            Remus smiled the way one might smile patiently at an irritating child. “I suppose you drink it black?”
            “The correct way,” He drawled, making his disapproval clear before ultimately deciding that his desire for caffeine was greater than his dislike.
            “My sister simmers hers with milk and cardamom. I think it tastes a bit like potpourri, but she adores it. We never have quite seen eye to eye.” At this mention of Freya, Snape’s dark eyes flickered at last toward her bed, across from him. The privacy curtains were closed. “Poppy will have your head if you wake her,” Lupin reminded him, noticing the glance.
            “I wasn’t planning on it,” He snapped.
            There was a pause, and Severus sensed that he was choosing his next words carefully. Sure enough, he sighed and folded his newspaper up neatly before finally looking over at him. “I heard what you said to her last night.”
            He glared sharply. “Eavesdropping isn’t quite beneath you, I see.”
            Lupin shrugged. “Werewolf ears. Can’t always help it.” He cocked his head, frowning slightly. “Will you be performing the severance charm yourself?”
            Severus could not help but grimace at this. In matters of wizarding divorce, a lawyer would typically be summoned to clear up financial matters and to perform the ritual. He supposed this would be unnecessary considering he and Freya had no children, nor did they own property together. Their marriage had always been by technicality, an unfortunate byproduct of a somewhat clumsy courtship mingled with dark magic. In spite of this, he felt his hackles rising at the question. “Eager to see me out of the picture, Lupin?”
            Remus considered him thoughtfully. “I won’t deny that I was…less than pleased to discover I suddenly had you for a brother in law.”
            The potions master snorted derisively. “Scared I’ll cause a scene at the Lupin family Christmas?”
            “Holidays with you? One shudders at the thought.” Lupin smiled wryly, and Severus felt the corners of his own mouth twitch in spite of himself.
            “Indeed. If you think I’ve forgotten that right hook of yours, you’re mistaken.” His cheekbone tingled with the memory of their fight in Dumbledore’s office.
            Lupin had the good grace to look somewhat embarrassed. “Yes. About that. Perhaps I was too quick to place the blame on you. I’ve come to understand that these…ahem…situations my sister finds herself in, tend to be the result of her own actions. There seems to be very little you or I can do about it.”
            “A lesson I too have learned the hard way,” he admitted sourly.
            “I see.” Remus studied him for a moment, then sighed. “You have decided to proceed with the divorce then?”
            Snape nodded, though he felt his gut twisting unpleasantly. “It is long overdue, I think.”
            “Ah. Well, if you’re certain.” Remus said quietly. Severus raised an eyebrow at this, but chose not to respond. “Have you thought about how you’re going to tell her?”
            “No need for that. I heard everything.”
            Both men jumped at the sound of Freya’s voice, and looked exceedingly guilty as she pulled back her privacy curtains and glowered wearily at them. When they locked eyes she raised an eyebrow at him, considering him for a moment, then nodded ever so slightly. This silent understanding simultaneously shattered and enraged him. He didn’t want her to consent so easily. He wanted her to fight him on it, to thrust herself into passionate defense of their deranged marriage. Snape knew by the way she was looking at him that this would not be the case, but he still threw back his bedspread when she struggled to prop herself up, intent on helping her. Lupin held out a hand to stop him.
            “Let her try,” he implored, watching his sister carefully. Snape sat back reluctantly. Pain was written on Freya’s face, scrawled there with alarming intensity, and her eyes appeared overly bright. Sweat dotted her forehead, and her lips were alarmingly pale as she cursed several times. Her breathing became hard with exertion, but she managed to prop herself up into a sitting position. Her smile was weak, but triumphant.
            “She shouldn’t be moving.” Severus growled at Lupin. Freya stared at them blankly for a moment, then slowly raised her middle finger. Lupin snorted with laughter beside him, then tried to poorly conceal it with a cough when she glared fiercely at him. When the glare subsided, she eyed the teapot.
            “Is that tea?” She asked hopefully. In moments she was clutching a mug gratefully with both hands, letting the steam waft into her face. Her hair was a hopeless mess, and yet he found that sight of it incredibly pleasant as the sun glinted off those wavy copper tendrils. Snape soon found himself staring at her long fingers, contemplating his decision, even though he wanted nothing more than to press her knuckles to his lips, to heal them with his attentions. It was best for both of them, he was certain. He had to be strong. Freya smirked, and for a moment his breath caught in his lungs, but the smile was not for him. She had just tasted the tea and was grimacing playfully at her brother. “Merlin’s balls, how sweet do you need it, Remus?”
            Lupin sighed comically. “Oh dear. It seems I’ve offended both the austere Potions Master and my sweet sister. However shall I recover?”
            “You could smother a pixie in the sugar you’ve put in this. I’d say you’ve earned the most terrible of English punishments.”
            “What, no tea for a week?” He pulled a face. “Even you wouldn’t be so cruel!
            “It’s either that or a lifetime of my silent contempt. Pick one.”
            “Ah. I’ll take the later.”
            “Suit yourself.” She raised an eyebrow and took another sip, all the while wearing an exaggerated sneer of disdain at Remus until they both began to laugh.
            Severus watched with disgust. “As amusing as I’m sure this is, perhaps you’ll consider the fact that they don’t serve tea in Azkaban.”
            While Lupin’s face fell, Freya’s became rather thoughtful. “A fair point. How long do you think I have before the Aurors arrive?”
            “Planning another daring escape?” He snapped. “How far do you think you’ll get with that injury? With luck, maybe you’ll even make it to the front door. I would think that after the last time you’d learned better, witch.”
            She gave him an infuriating wink. “Actually, I was hoping to get a decent breakfast first.”
            “Perhaps Severus is right. We should be taking this seriously, Freya.” Lupin frowned.
            “Ah, but it’s so very funny.” She drawled, not sounding in the slightest bit amused as she gave Severus an odd look. “And how long will it be before your friends come for my head?” The contempt in her voice was very real this time.
Snape felt his stomach lurch sourly. How could she still hold him responsible for everything that had happened? His anger began to simmer. How dare she glare at him in that way after what she’d done? “In a single night, the two of you conspired to unseat a prominent ally to the Dark Lord.” Beside him, Lupin cringed, but he ignored it. “However, if you are lucky, his followers will see the bloodbath as pack affairs. Their disdain for werewolves may save you.”
“Or they will see me as a threat and attempt to eliminate me.” She said this with only mild interest.
“Yes.” He admitted quietly. “Your career as an artist may have amused them once, but now you are a wildcard. Lucius and Narcissa may have vouched for you once, but even if you hadn’t strewn their home with werewolf corpses, they hardly possess the status they once did. Plenty will think it safer to simply eliminate you.” The exasperation was clear in his voice now. “Your position has been compromised.”
She appeared to consider his words carefully for a moment, then shrugged. It was impossible to tell whether or not she was taking this seriously. “Well then. If that is the case, let them come then, I suppose.”
Rage boiled up inside of him and he found himself leaping to his feet, taking great strides to her bedside until he was towering over her. “Oh yes, what a brave witch you are. Let them murder you in the night if they wish. Who cares how many they’ll take out to get to you? Who cares who has to suffer as long as Freya Lupin gets to laugh once more in the face of death? Let them come.” He growled ferociously. To his satisfaction, she flinched at his words.
“I didn’t say that,” she retorted angrily. “I only meant that for the time being, there’s not much I can do about it!”
“How dare you? Your own brother was nearly mauled to death. I was nearly bitten several times.” When she opened her mouth to speak, he knew that she about to remind him that if he had remained hidden as she’d intended, that would never have happened. He refused to give her that chance. “Don’t you remember the people they killed, just because they got in the way?” He was thinking of the barwitch and wizard who’d run the inn she’d been staying at when he’d finally found her. It was a low blow, and he knew perfectly well that it hadn’t been her fault, but it had the desired effect. Freya looked both shocked and hurt by the accusation.
“Don’t.” She whispered furiously, appearing to blink back tears.
“You’re still angry with me. No, don’t bother denying it. I don’t want to hear your excuses,” he held up a hand when she tried to protest. “You’re right to be angry. I turned you over to them. I sacrificed you in order to keep my position secure, and I would do it again. We are at war, and I made my choice, as did you, but don’t think for a second that you’re better than me. You leave bodies wherever you go, and you don’t care because deep down, there’s just something wrong with you, Freya Lupin.” Just like me, he thought bitterly.
“I won’t have you speaking to her that way, Severus.” Lupin said in a soft, but clearly dangerous voice. “You’ve made your point. Leave it.”
“I’ll speak to her any damn way I choose.” He glowered down at her. “You were terrified for her, and all the while she was sleeping with the enemy. She doesn’t give a damn about you, or I. She’s a manipulative, selfish little cunt.” As soon as the words tumbled from his mouth, he wished he could swallow them, but it was far too late. He heard the sound of Lupin rising furiously from his chair, but he didn’t turn. His hands trembled with residual rage, even as he started forward, but when Freya stared up at him, her eyes bright with tears, he felt a strong tremor. He stared at her, hating himself.
“Then why did you make love to me?” She murmured, just low enough so Remus wouldn’t hear. “If you think so poorly of me, why not stun me as soon as you saw me? Why bother?”
He knew the answer, but refused to say it. Instead he hardened his heart and glared at her. It was better this way. “We fucked. Nothing more. You spread your legs for that bastard. I’m done with you.” He gave her a look of disgust, and saw her flinch at the sight of it.
“I don’t believe you,” she whispered. “You said you loved me. I can feel it when I touch your mind.” Freya reached out a hand as if to touch him, but he stepped back, glowering.
“I lied.” His stare was impassive. “If there is one thing I pride myself on, it is my ability to shield my own true desires and ambitions. No amount of potion can change that. I have no interest in what you think you felt.” It took every nuance of his occlumency skills to keep her from hearing his thoughts, but he knew that he had succeeded at shutting her out when he saw her desperately searching his face for any hint of remorse for his cruel words.
When she found none, the dam broke. Tears of pain and exhaustion flowed freely down Freya’s face. There was no sobbing or wailing, she simply buried her face in her hands while her shoulders shook. He clenched his hands into fists to prevent himself from reaching out and touching her hair.
Poppy chose that moment to re enter the hospital wing and when she saw the state of her patient, she rushed over, pressing a tonic into Freya’s trembling fingers. “Oh dear, have the stitches come undone? Are you in pain? What is it, pet, what’s the matter?”
“You’re a cruel bastard, Snape.” Lupin said, watching as he angrily snatched up his own black robes from the neatly folded pile of clothes that had been left at the foot of his bed, and tugged them on, concealing the blue striped pajamas. Poppy pursed her lips at him as though wanting to say something, but he silenced her with a glare. He was not ill, after all, and had no reason to stay.
“I’ll be sending for the proper paperwork today, Miss. Lupin.” He drawled coldly, ignoring her tearful expression as she looked up at him.
“Severus…” She whispered, pleadingly.
“I expect you to have them signed and returned to my office within the next few days. We will discuss the severance charm when it has cleared. That is assuming you’re not rotting in a cell before then.”
And with that, he stormed out of the hospital wing, slamming the doors behind him. His chest heaved with every breath, and to his great alarm, he felt himself on the verge of tears himself, but he was convinced that this was the right path. He had been given a job. Protect Draco, and complete the task the Dark Lord had given him. Snape knew that once it was finished she would hate him forever. It was far better to end it now, before that happened.
When he rounded the corner, he was highly annoyed to see Dumbledore, walking in close confidence with Kingsley Shacklebolt, who nodded at him.
“Ah, Severus. The headmaster and I were discussing the matter of Freya’s defense. In fact, we were just about to meet with her. It’s time we all understood what happened at Malfoy Manor. Care to join us? I know you’d like some answers as well.”
“Interrogate her all you like, Kingsley.” He growled, feeling a surge of unprovoked animosity toward the charismatic wizard. “Hell, you can do more than that if it pleases you. I’m sure she won’t mind.”
Shanklebolt frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“Ah. A lover’s quarrel, I think, Kingsley.” Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow disapprovingly at Severus. “Best not to inquire.”
Severus felt his face burning with humiliation as he stormed past them, bumping his shoulder into Kigsley’s as he did. He snorted and rolled his eyes, but did not rise to the bait. Snape was clearly itching for a fight with anyone who’d humor him.

The feeling hardly dissipated over the following few days even as he prepared for the imminent arrival of the Hogwarts Express. Once more, the halls of the school would be buzzing with life. He was looking forward to it. Extra security measures were already being taken. There were wards to fortify, and lessons to plan. Teachers were expected to keep strict watch along the corridors, particularly at night. Any suspicious activity was to be reported directly to Dumbledore. There was no time for apologies. This was a time for action, and for cold clinical decisions. Emotions had no place anymore. This was war. He had not bothered to visit the hospital wing again. Surely if Freya’s recovery was hindered, he would hear of it one way or another. He had taken great pains to fortify his own heart. It would not do to have them compromised by a pair of large blue eyes.
All of the teachers had made their way back to Hogwarts, settling into their old rooms, with the exception of Horace Slughorn who had demanded larger chambers. Snape had made a point to avoid Horace until he felt better equipped to deal with his old professor. He simply wasn’t in the mood to hear his usual simpering and careful flattery. Doubtless the man was eager to be in Snape’s good graces. He had always overlooked his talents in potion brewing when he was a student, choosing instead to fawn over those with wealthier parents, or students like Lilly, who had been both intelligent and talented, but with the added allure of being exceptionally pretty. If anyone had been certain to attract fame and fortune, surely it would have been her. This painful reminder was the last thing Snape needed. He was already in a fowl mood when the Hogwarts express finally rolled into Hogsmeade.
Snape experienced a very nasty shock when he opened his office door to find an enormous, silvery wolf pacing in front of his desk. In fact, it caused him to drop the armload of bottles he’d been carrying. For a moment, he was back at Malfoy manor, his back pressed to Freya’s as his wand illuminated the terrible hulking shapes of his enemies as they snapped at his flesh. The bottles smashed on the stone floor, splashing his robes with ink. The patronus did not seem to mind, even as he cursed and drew his wand to clean himself up. Clearly his experiences had left him far more shaken than he would have liked to admit. As preoccupied as he was with the start of term, there was still that hollow fear in the back of his mind. Vidarr had escaped justice. He was still out there somewhere, plotting his revenge.
The Patronus spoke, making him flinch. “I’ve got Harry. A little worse for wear, but he’s fine. Please meet us at the front gate, Hagrid.” It was Tonks’ voice. The Auror had been stationed in Hogsmeade, and he expected to see rather more of her than he’d prefer this school year. Tonks had come terribly close to becoming something like a friend, a notion that made him profoundly uncomfortable. He watched sourly as the patronus faded into vapors.
As it vanished, it revealed the object that had been left on his desk. It was a slender vial of shimmering liquid, and there was a note as well, penned in dark purple ink. There was an unpleasant sensation in his belly, like the wriggling of flobberworms as he read it.
“Freya relinquished these memories for my inspection early this morning. They appear to be untampered with, but I must ask that you review them at your leisure and report any inconsistencies that you find.” It was signed with a familiar flourish.
Bitterness welled up in him, blacker than the ink he’d spilled. “Fuck you, Albus,” he muttered, thinking that he should send it back to the headmaster in pieces. However, instead of using the bottle for target practice, he turned and stalked from the office in a flurry of robes, seizing a lantern on his way out of the castle. Time to bring precious baby Potter back to Hogwarts.
He found them standing just outside the padlocked gate, and watched with some satisfaction as Potter’s look of relief melted into an expression of pure hatred. Giving him an almost lazy glare of dislike in return, he brushed the boy’s mind, unable to resist. As expected, his thoughts and feelings opened up to him like a book with almost no resistance. Harry blamed him for his godfather’s death, which both annoyed and amused him. Fair enough. Let the insolent brat take out his feelings on him. Why should he care? “Lilly would care. And so would Freya.” The thought rose, unbidden like a sullen ghost. He swatted it away at once.
“Well well well…” He sneered, pointing his wand at the gate. The padlock clinked and the chains securing the gate slithered open. “Nice of you to turn up Potter, although…” His dark eyes flickered maliciously over the boy’s attire. There was blood on his face, but he chose to ignore this for now. “…you have evidently decided that the wearing of school robes would detract from your appearance.”
“I couldn’t change. I didn’t have my-“ Harry started to protest.
“There is no need to wait, Nymphadora.” Snape interrupted, turning to the Auror. She looked exhausted, and paler than ever, and he knew why. It disgusted him to see her still pining for the werewolf. “Potter is quite safe in my hands.”
“I meant for Hagrid to get the message.” She said, frowning at him.
“Hagrid was late for the start of term feast, just like Potter here, so I took it instead.” He felt a stab of humiliation at the way he’d been startled by the sudden appearance of the wolf in his office. It angered him just enough to throw a nasty insult her way. “Incidentally I was interested to see your new patronus.” He shut the gate with another flick of his wand, and the chains clinked and rattled at they twisted closed once again. “I think you were better off with the old one. The new one looks weak.” The look of shock and outrage on her face left him feeling immensely pleased with himself, although he was well aware that she did not deserve such treatment from him. But better to burn that bridge now, he thought sourly. Friends made a wizard weak, as far as he was now concerned.
“Goodnight” Harry called to her over his shoulder. “Thanks for everything.”
“See you, Harry.” She replied glumly as the darkness swallowed her once again.
They walked in silence for a moment. He could practically feel the animosity rolling off of the boy in waves. It pleased him.
“Fifty points from Gryffindor for lateness I think.” He thought aloud, watching from the corner of his eye as Harry clenched his fists. “And let me see, another twenty for your muggle attire. You know, “ he added with no small amount of amusement “I don’t think any house has ever been in negative figures this early in the term. We haven’t even started pudding. You might have set a record, Potter.” They climbed the stone steps to the main entrance. Snape could tell that it was all he could do not to reply. He grinned nastily. “I suppose you wanted to make an entrance, did you? And with no flying car available, you decided that bursting into the Great Hall halfway through the feast ought to create a dramatic effect.”
The doors opened to the great hall. Floating candles illuminated everything, glinting off of golden plates and goblets. The sounds of laughter and a hundred conversations billowed around them, and he could feel Dumbledore’s eyes on them. He ignored this, and instead watched from the corner of his eye as Harry gazed longingly at the Gryffindor table.
“No cloak.” Snape said in a low voice. “You can walk in so that everyone sees you, which is what you wanted I’m sure.”
He watched with enormous smugness at Harry quickly made his way over to his friends at the Gryffindor table. Several other students stood to gape at him, and he noticed Draco Malfoy watching the chosen one with open hatred. It did not escape his notice when his charge mimicked stomping on Potter’s face, while his cronies chuckled around him. While Snape had no love for Harry Potter, the sight annoyed him. Draco was supposed to be lying low as he figured out a way to complete his mission. I’ll deal with you later, he thought grimly.
Snape kept an eye on Draco as the feast continued, watching silently from his usual place on the dais. Dumbledore gave his speech, and introduced Slughorn. When it was announced that Severus would be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, there was a surge of outrage from the students. He smirked to himself as he stood and bowed to them. It was a short-lived satisfaction.
The doors burst open again, and to everyone’s surprise, Freya, still clad in her blue striped pajama bottoms and tank top, scurried in, her bare feet padding softly on the cold flagstones. She paused for a moment, staring around at the students who gaped at her, then slipped past them, seemingly unaware of the shocked murmuring that had erupted around her. Her hair was wilder than ever, and her eyes were brighter than a cat’s. They glinted in the torchlight. Clearly, she had just escaped from the hospital wing. Snapes eyes bored into her, but she didn’t so much as glance up at him. When she made her way to the Gryffindor table, she stopped at Neville Longbottom, who turned bright red as she motioned at him with both hands.
“Scootch over, won’t you darling? There’s a luv.” She said, an enormous smile spreading across her face. Snape felt his heart beating furiously, in spite of the scowl he wore. The smile made her look radiant. The fact that it was directed at Longbottom of all people was highly annoying. Freya climbed over the bench, and sat herself among the now highly bewildered Gryffindors who watched as she began piling food onto a plate.
“Ah. I see someone’s finally had enough of that hospital swill.” Professor Sprout nodded, sounding highly amused. Beside her, Minerva was watching nervously.
Snape couldn’t take his eyes off her. There was something so disarming about the way she bit into a buttered roll and moaned as if it was the most heavenly thing she’d ever tasted. When Longbottom shyly offered her a glass of pumpkin juice, she looked as if she could have kissed him. She looked so happy to be allowed, for the first time in months, to be able to eat what she liked. Snape watched, and felt an odd stirring in his belly, as if he’d swallowed a billywig. Vidarr had starved her as punishment. That much he knew. The Gryffindors seemed eager to please her, and were soon urging her to try a little bit of everything. Little Dennis Creevey rushed up to hand her a treacle tart, and she actually looked as if she would cry. She plucked it from his hands, and pulled him in for a hug.
It was short lived, of course. Soon enough, Poppy was rushing breathlessly into the great hall, with Filch following closely behind, their eyes darting around in search of the lost patient. Snape stole a glance at Dumbledore and saw that he was looking highly amused. The students seemed to find this very funny as well, and already some of the first years were pointing at Freya, who snatched an apple from a nearby platter, and sank beneath the table. Snape rolled his eyes as Poppy came running up the aisle, looking very flustered and extremely worried. He pushed his own plate away, and began making great strides, not to the Gryffindor table where Poppy and Filch were headed, but to the end of the Hufflepuff table, where he knew she had crawled to make her escape.
Sure enough, a head full of dark red hair soon popped out between the table legs. He waited a moment for the rest of her to emerge, then seized her shoulders from behind with both hands, and began to march her forcibly out of the hall. Some of his Slytherins applauded. Freya jumped, and made a small gasping noise but did not pull away from him as he’d expected. Snape leaned in close, and unable to resist, found himself burying his nose into her mass of wavy hair.
            “You are done making a scene, Freya,” he growled angrily. She relaxed noticeably at the sound of his voice.
            “Professor Snape?” She asked uncertainly. He stiffened, and when they’d made it to the seclusion of the corridor, he whipped her around and stared at her. Her wide blue eyes were bright and feverish, and the warmth radiating from her skin was unnatural. She stared at him in a strange, unnerving way. “I’m so sorry. I’ve lost my timetable. Do you know if I’m meant to be in charms?” Her eyes widened. “Do you think Flitwick will be cross?”
            His mouth fell open as he stared down at her. Fear clenched him. Had she lost her mind? “Freya, where do you think we are?”
            She blinked and smiled sweetly, almost lazily. “Ah. This is a dream, isn’t it?” She smoothed her hands up his chest, and he heard himself gasp at the unexpected touch. Her hands found his face and he shuddered. He wanted to slap her hands away, but he didn’t budge. The touch was so reverent and so sweet that he simply couldn’t. “It must be. The real Professor Snape thinks I’m…” Her brow furrowed with confusion. “He would never let me touch him like this. Not after what I did…” The words echoed in his ears, barely registering. He closed his eyes and practically purred with pleasure as her fingers toyed with his long hair. He’d always loved the sensation of her fingers on his scalp. Suddenly she wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his chest. He grunted softly in surprise, suddenly uncertain what to do, his own body keenly aware of the womanly curves now pressed against it. “You smell nice,” She breathed, and he could feel her lips curling into a smile against his waistcoat. All the blood in his head rushed to his groin, making him dizzy. She was so warm that the heat penetrated his clothes, impossible to ignore. He lifted his arms, about to wrap them around her, but he willed himself to stop.
            Poppy and Filch chose that moment to stumble upon them. Poppy huffed with relief, and placed a hand gently on Freya’s shoulder. He felt her stiffen against him.
            “Come, pet. We must get you back into bed. You have a terrible fever.”
            Freya pulled away from him, dismay and confusion in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”
            “You’re at Hogwarts dear. You’ve just had a very nasty dream.” She began to lead her away, gently but firmly. Snape suppressed a sigh. Suddenly the hall seemed very cold indeed.
            “What?” Freya snapped, looking wildly about, then staring horrified at Severus. She broke free from Poppy’s grip and ran to him. Her fingers clutched at the front of his robes, twisting them. “Severus, what are you doing here? If Vidarr sees you he’ll kill us both.”
            Severus felt a shiver run the entire length of his spine. He grasped her wrists, and untangled himself from her grip. “It’s alright. Freya, he’s not here. You’re safe.”
            Freya sighed, appearing suddenly so relieved she actually stumbled a bit. He steadied her by placing his hands on her shoulders. “Oh. I see.” She murmured, sounding so sweet that it took every ounce of willpower not to kiss her. “This is a nice dream,” she sighed and lazily reached up, tweaking his nose playfully. “Heh. I booped your snoot, Severus.”
   Startled, he glanced up at Poppy who was shaking her head. There was a hint of a smile on her face. Trying to ignore the burning in his cheeks, he gingerly offered Freya his elbow as if escorting her to a dance. “Shall we retire? I’m sure Poppy has a lovely sleeping draught all ready for you.”
            She went without argument, smiling all the while. It was as if he’d never said those awful things to her, though he knew that with the proper amount of rest she would soon remember, and hate him for it. It was difficult not to feel ashamed as she rested her head on his shoulder. At one point, she actually appeared to have difficulty keeping her eyes open, and he resorted to carrying her the rest of the way. When they’d finally tucked her back into her hospital bed and given her enough potions to stop a hippogriff in its tracks, Snape drew the privacy curtain and frowned at Poppy.
            “How long has she been like this?”
            Poppy arched an eyebrow. “Two days. A fever of this kind isn’t uncommon in these cases. Her body temperature has raised enough to sweat the rest of the wolfsbane from her system. I suspect it will break soon. You would know this if you’d stopped in to see her. She asks for you.”
            He tactfully ignored this. The last thing he needed was for his actions to be judged, even by a witch he respected. “And the delirium?”
            “It will pass. She doesn’t sleep well, no matter how much I adjust her dosage. She wakes up screaming.” Poppy placed her hands on her hips and frowned at him. “I know you’ve had a falling out, but you’ve seen how your voice soothes her. She needs to rest.”
            A fresh wave of guilt made him feel ill, but he refused to let it show on his face. “I don’t have time, Poppy. In case you haven’t noticed, the term has already begun.”
            She scowled ferociously at him. “And what will I tell her if she asks for you again?”
            “Tell her whatever you like. It doesn’t matter to me,” He lied, and turned on his heels, determined to have the last word.
Unfortunately, Poppy was too quick for him. “Suit yourself, you bloody git.”
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Spy vs. Spy