The Art of Deception

Enchanted bubble

There were few things that ever caught Severus by surprise. He always had everything meticulously planned, one of those inevitable habits that came with having a mind as anxious as his. Every possible scenario had already been recreated and analysed in his mind, over and over again, like a chess player reviewing all the strategies before making a move. However, no matter how much he foresaw, nothing could have prepared him for opening his eyes that morning and finding Katya’s naked body beside him.

For a moment, he lay still, barely breathing, as if moving might break the delicate spell that held the scene before his eyes. Her pale skin rested against the sheets with a serenity that contrasted with the hurricane of thoughts in his mind. Katya’s hair spilled untamed over the pillow, and her tranquil expression was a cruel reminder of how unreal this all seemed to him.

Severus closed his eyes for a moment, trying to piece together the puzzle of the previous night. When he opened them, his lips curved into a fleeting smile. Not even in his most intimate dreams, the ones that haunted him night after night and left him waking with shortness of breath, had he imagined this could ever become real again.

Seeing her the night before in the Malfoys’ tent during the Quidditch World Cup had not surprised him in the slightest. In fact, he’d expected it, given that Narcissa had sent him an invitation, and he’d immediately suspected there was more behind her usual politeness. He knew Mrs. Malfoy well, and her tendency to orchestrate "casual" meetings between Katya and him, ever since she’d picked up on the tension between them, had never escaped his notice. But even though he had considered attending just to see her, Dumbledore’s words still echoed in his mind.

“Be careful with her, Severus. You don’t truly know who she is, or what she seeks. And her closeness with the Malfoys does not inspire trust.”

Severus knew the old man was right. Katya was not someone to trust lightly, but that did not lessen the effect she had on him. Seeing her, even from a distance, somehow eased the obsessive visions of her in his dreams. But it also made him a man divided: one part of him wanted to heed Dumbledore’s warnings and stay away from the temptation, while the other, darker and more primal, pushed him straight into her arms.

In the end, he had yielded. He’d fulfilled his duties to Dumbledore and, before he could question it too much, he’d prepared himself and taken one of the Portkeys to Devon. Upon arrival, his gaze sought her almost unconsciously among the figures moving gracefully in the shadows illuminated by magical torches, and there she was.

Katya drew him in like a magnetic force, the kind that commanded attention without even trying. Her captivating yet shy smile made her stand out among the pure-blood families and influential figures from the Ministry gathered in the Malfoys’ tent. Severus, as was his habit, watched her from a distance, studying every movement, every word that left her lips as she conversed with the others. He wondered if she was there for the same reasons as him, fulfilling some hidden purpose, or if she was simply another pawn in the political and social game she seemed to belong to so naturally.

The night wore on, and with each glass of wine that passed between his hands, his resolve to keep his distance faded. When she stepped out of the tent to smoke, he couldn't resist the temptation to approach. His feet moved before his mind could stop them. It was an irrepressible impulse, as if the air was easier to breathe near her. When Katya saw him approach, a look of warning flashed across her face, before she smiled kindly at him, as if she had been waiting for that moment all night.

What happened next blurred in his mind like a whirlwind of images and sensations, difficult to untangle. They had shared it with an intensity that overflowed any attempt at reasoning, as if time had ceased to exist. He remembered accompanying her to the apartment in Mayfair, the same one he had left her at a few weeks ago.

Katya moved quickly around the space, picking things up at random and tidying the living room with almost automatic gestures. There was something about her nervousness that disarmed him, even as he remained still, watching her with that penetrating gaze that seemed to see through any mask.

"It's Nikita and Emil's apartment," she confessed suddenly, as she slipped off her heels with a sigh of relief. Her bare feet echoed softly on the wooden floor as she headed towards the fridge. "They lent it to me so I wouldn’t have to rent somewhere while I’m in London."

She opened the fridge with deliberate movements, pulling out a half-open bottle of wine, and with a swift flick of her wand, two glasses floated towards her. Her nonchalant tone didn’t fully mask the tension she carried with her.

"But don’t worry," she added with a fleeting, almost mischievous smile. "They won’t bother us tonight. They’re too busy reliving their glory years in the Quidditch tournament."

Severus didn’t respond immediately. His eyes followed every movement of Katya as she leaned slightly against the counter, unbuttoning the first few buttons of her white shirt. There was something in her posture, in the way she looked directly at him, that stirred something inside him. The tension between them was palpable, almost electric.

“Did you used to play?” he finally asked, his deep voice filling the silence as he took one of the glasses still floating in the air and moved towards her, cornering her against the counter.

“Yes,” she answered, her voice lower than usual, as though the intimate atmosphere of the moment affected her too. She took a sip of wine before continuing. “At Koldovstoretz. Nik was a Seeker and Emil, a Beater.”

Severus nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off her. The proximity between them had diminished to almost nothing. With a delicate gesture, he brushed a strand of hair from Katya's face and tucked it behind her ear, prolonging the contact long enough to feel the slight tremor in her skin.

“Did you cheer for them?”

Katya shook her head softly, offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“No,” she admitted. “I never went to watch the matches. I didn’t like them.”

Before Severus could respond, Katya set her glass aside and closed the remaining distance between them, her body barely grazing his. Her eyes shone with a mix of determination and desire, and although the situation seemed already under her control, she smiled as if she had just won a game he hadn’t even known they were playing.

Severus couldn’t resist any longer. He kissed her with a fervour that left him breathless, pressing their lips together in a movement that was more instinctive than calculated. Katya immediately reciprocated, with an intensity that made him forget any doubts or concerns. What followed was a frantic sequence of movements, a clumsy but passionate choreography as they fumbled their way toward the bedroom.

Between kisses, their hands roamed over each other's clothes, peeling away layers as though they couldn’t bear any barrier between them. At one point, he whispered her name:

“Kat…”

Severus’s voice carried a note of hesitation, as if he were trying to stop the inevitable, but she didn’t give him a chance. She pushed him firmly onto the bed, straddling him with overwhelming confidence.

“Please,” she whispered, almost urgently. “I need this.”

Those words were enough to shut his mind off completely. In that instant, there was no past or future, no questions or answers. Only the present existed, the present they shared, tangled in each other.

Katya guided the rhythm of the night with intensity, while Severus worshipped her as though she were a goddess made flesh. Every kiss, every touch, reminded him of that sense of absolute connection he had only ever felt with her. Throughout the night, his body became a map that he explored with devotion, trying to engrave every inch of her into his memory.

When the early morning light began filtering through the windows, they were still clinging to each other, as if afraid the other would vanish. Katya breathed heavily against his neck, and Severus, for the first time in a long while, didn’t feel the need to think of anything but the warmth of her body next to his.

Now, as he watched her sleep, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was falling into a trap again. Perhaps she was his drug, and he, an addict willing to ignore any warning just to have another taste. But, for once, Severus allowed that part of him he always suppressed to take control.

With extreme care, as though afraid of breaking the spell that enveloped them, he reached out and let his fingers graze a loose strand of Katya’s hair. The touch, though barely perceptible, sent an unexpected warmth through his skin, a warmth that was not physical, but something deeper. His fingers lingered for a moment on the strand, tangling slightly before letting it go, as if his mind were memorising the feel, the silky texture of something he knew didn’t belong to him completely, but for a brief moment, was his.

The room was immersed in a peculiar silence, the kind only found in the early hours of the morning, when the world seems suspended between sleep and wakefulness. The faint light filtering through the curtains fell on Katya's face, illuminating her features with a soft, almost ethereal glow. He found himself watching her, studying her as if he wanted to imprint every line of her face in his memory: the delicate curve of her lips, the way her lashes cast tiny shadows on her cheeks.

For the first time in a long while, Severus allowed himself a moment of selfishness. He didn’t want to think about tomorrow, the secrets she kept, or the possible consequences of being with her. He just wanted to stay there, in that frozen moment, lying beside her, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her breath, allowing himself to believe that, even if only for that night, he could be someone else: someone not trapped between duties and regrets.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the scent of her hair — a light blend of perfume and something more natural, uniquely hers — surround him. The exhaustion of the past days finally caught up with him, and, without realising it, he fell asleep. But this time, there were no dreams to torment him, no visions of her to keep him trapped in an endless cycle of desire and frustration. For the first time, he rested in peace.

Suddenly, a loud, sharp knock shook the living room next to the bedroom. Severus jolted awake, the deep echo of voices in Russian beginning to filter through the door. Still half asleep, he squinted and saw Katya sit up abruptly, rigid, her face pale and alert.

“What’s going on?” he asked in a low voice, watching her with a mix of irritation and curiosity.

Katya, visibly nervous, ran her hands through her hair, smoothing it instinctively.

“I think it’s Nikita... and Emil,” she whispered quickly, as she searched for her shirt on the floor.

Severus frowned. Goodbye to the enchanted bubble, he thought.

“What are they doing here? You said they wouldn’t be here.” She turned to look at him, annoyed by his tone.

“They weren’t supposed to be…” she replied, buttoning her shirt with trembling hands. “I think…” Katya caught a few scattered words from her friends through the door. “Something happened at the camp.”

Before she could hear more, a male voice echoed from the living room.

“Katya! Ты здесь?” (Katya, are you here?)

Katya sighed and, adjusting her clothes, opened the door and quickly stepped into the hallway. Severus remained by the slightly ajar door, just enough to observe and listen to what was happening.

In the living room, the tension was palpable. Nikita stood, his face flushed with anger and his blonde hair completely dishevelled. Beside him, Emil threw his coat onto the sofa with a sharp gesture, his torn shirt showing the recent chaos. Both of them looked on edge, exhausted and frustrated.

"Что, черт возьми, произошло?" (What the hell happened?) Katya asked in Russian, folding her arms, her gaze fixed on them as she tried to grasp the gravity of what had happened.

"Пожиратели смерти." (Death Eaters), Nikita growled, gritting his teeth. "Это был полный беспорядок. Они напали на магглов недалеко от лагеря, подняли их в воздух и пытали на глазах у всех." (It was a complete mess. They attacked some muggles near the camp, lifted them into the air, and tortured them in front of everyone.)

"Некоторые из нас пытались помочь." (Some of us tried to help), Emil added, looking at Nikita with a flash of resentment in his gaze. "Но никто не смог их остановить, пока они не исчезли." (But no one could stop them before they disappeared.)

Katya frowned, clearly shocked by the severity of the situation, but her concern was palpable. "Вы в порядке?" (Are you alright?) she asked, her eyes shining with a mixture of worry and curiosity.

"Мы целы, да, но это не то, что можно игнорировать." (We’re fine, yes, but this isn’t something we can ignore.) Nikita took a deep breath, running a hand through his neck, visibly shaken. Then his gaze shifted toward the slightly open door to the room, as if a small doubt had started forming in his mind. "Are you alone?" he asked, switching to English, his voice a little softer but full of curiosity.

Before Katya could respond, Severus' figure emerged from the room with calm steps, his unmistakable presence filling the space. He approached Katya and stood beside her, adjusting his robes with that characteristic calm, his expression impassive.

"No, she’s not," Severus replied in his usual cold, indifferent tone, fixing his gaze on Nikita with an intensity that didn’t go unnoticed.

The atmosphere in the room shifted immediately, a tense silence filling the space. Nikita and Emil exchanged a look of distrust, while Katya, in turn, watched Severus warily, still processing his unexpected intervention.

"Professor?" Emil asked, raising an eyebrow in some confusion, as if he couldn’t fully understand the situation. Katya quickly nodded, her gaze fixed on Severus.

Severus gave a slight smile, almost imperceptible, but his eyes remained deep, filled with a dangerous calm.

"Severus Snape," he said, his tone chilling the air even further. "Friend... of Katya."

Nikita squinted, crossing his arms, clearly sceptical. "Yes, we saw you leave together at the camp," he muttered, his voice full of suspicion. "The attack was a few hours later, you’re lucky you weren’t there."

"Precisely," Severus responded with a calm that seemed almost ironic, taking a step toward them. "Many of my students were at the tournament, so I’m interested in knowing what happened. It seems the situation was... chaotic, wasn’t it?"

Emil, still irritated by what had happened, huffed in disgust. He walked toward the counter and picked up the wine glass that had been left there. His gaze was fixed on the liquid as he pondered what had occurred.

"That's putting it mildly," he said bitterly. "It was a public attack. They set fire to tents and attacked muggles as if they were toys. Who does something like that in the middle of the World Cup?"

"The Death Eaters, obviously," Nikita interjected in a sombre tone, fixing his gaze on Severus as though trying to assess every word that left his mouth. "And... we thought the British were civilised," he added, with a sneer, snapping his fingers. In an instant, cigarettes appeared in his hand, and with a gesture, he offered one to the others. Katya, without thinking too much, took one quickly. Severus, however, shook his head, his posture unmoving.

"What about the Malfoys?" Katya asked, her voice tense, searching for answers in the fragments of information she had received.

"They fled, Kat!" Emil exclaimed, his tone filled with frustration. "They didn’t even stay to help the injured."

"With that kind of scum you work, Kat," Nikita replied, visibly annoyed, his voice laden with disapproval.

Severus, still and serene, maintained his composure. He slightly tilted his head, calmly observing the interaction, while Katya smoked her cigarette with vigour, her eyes fixed on the smoke that dispersed into the air, as though trying to dissipate the tension of the conversation.

"Did you see who led the attack?" Severus asked with carefully controlled indifference, trying to steer the attention away from the growing conflict between Emil and Nikita.

"We didn’t see much more than the masks," Emil answered with a resigned gesture, shrugging. "It was clearly organised, but I focused on helping some players who got burned in the fires."

"They came, sowed chaos, and disappeared," Nikita added, his voice thick with bitterness, as though the words themselves had left him exhausted.

Severus processed the information quickly, his expression impassive as he tried to hide any trace of emotion. "They’ll likely send the injured to St. Mungo's Hospital," Snape commented with a distant calm, almost as though it were not an issue that truly concerned him.

Emil shot a sceptical glance between Severus and Katya, his distrust still palpable in the air. "You need to leave here, Kat," Nikita insisted, his tone urgent and defiant. "Forget about your stupid…"

"Заткнись уже!" (Shut up already!) Katya exclaimed, cutting him off abruptly, casting a warning look at Nikita.

In that moment, Severus understood everything. Katya didn’t trust him either. He watched her intently, noting the tension in her posture, the uncertainty in her eyes. With a polite smile, though tinged with subtle irony, he said:

"I believe it’s my time to leave," he said, his tone calm but determined. Katya looked at him, concerned, as though his departure was more than just an ordinary goodbye. "It was a pleasure, gentlemen."

The professor watched her in silence for a long moment, trying to decipher the true reasons behind her secrecy, after which he sighed softly and nodded, resigned.

"Alright. I’ll walk you to the door," Severus said, his tone softer now, and Katya returned a tense smile, though her eyes reflected some sadness. When they reached the door, he gently took her arm, pressing it lightly. "Severus, I’m sorry," she whispered. "I hope that..."

"Don’t worry, Kat," Severus replied, his smile empty, almost mechanical. "I don’t want you to think you owe me any explanations, please." He closed the door behind them and, without another word, placed a chaste kiss on her lips, a gesture that lacked all the passion they had shared the night before. "We all have our secrets. It’s been a nice moment, I hope to see you again soon."

Without saying anything more, Severus took out his wand, adjusted his robes with a precise movement, and prepared to vanish down the hallway of the flat, leaving Katya behind to face the remnants of that night. But as he began to move away, he couldn’t help but look back, certain that the incident at the Quidditch World Cup was just the beginning of something much darker.

Nikita let out a low grunt as the young woman returned to the flat, as if Katya's presence in that country was tearing him apart inside, before once again turning his full attention back to her. His gaze was filled with concern, but also with palpable anguish.

"You should take care of yourself, Kat," he pleaded, desperation clear in his voice. "You have to leave here."

Katya, her face marked with sadness, lowered her gaze, clearly embarrassed by her own situation. Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"I can’t do it, not until I finish what I started here," she said firmly, but the doubt shining in her eyes did not go unnoticed.

"Are you mad, Kat?" Nikita exploded, his anger erupting like a repressed volcano. "They’ll kill you if you stay here, spying for your father."

Katya closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to swallow the words she wanted to say, feeling the weight of the truth crushing her. Then, her voice cracked, and her eyes filled with tears.

"I have no choice!" she exclaimed, her body shaking with contained fury. "I promised I would, Nik" she whispered, the anguish resonating in every word, like a distant echo of an unbreakable vow.

Nikita snorted, furious and frustrated, starting to rant about Katya’s father. But before the words could explode into something more hurtful, Emil, who had been quietly watching Katya's pain and distress, understood. His voice came out soft, almost calm, trying to stop the storm unfolding in the room.

“Nik, stop,” Emil said, his tone firm but full of patience.

Nikita looked at him, stunned, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard. His face grew even more severe, his frustration taking over.

“You too?” Nikita challenged his husband, his voice filled with disbelief.

“Don’t you realize, Nik?” Emil responded, his gaze fixed on his friend, almost as if he wanted him to finally understand. “Katya has no other choice. It´s Pyotr Borislov, who we are talking about. None of us can stand against him.”

The words fell like a stone over the room. Nikita stared at his husband in confusion, his eyes searching for answers he couldn’t find. But before he could say anything more, the sound of Katya’s sobs filled the space, heartbreaking and full of despair.

“Why, Kat?” Nikita asked, the hardness of his voice softening in the face of his friend’s obvious pain.

Katya nodded slowly, her face drenched in tears. The sadness and sacrifice were clear in her eyes, as if she had accepted a burden she could not escape.

“I need to get away from them, get away from that family. They've come back for me, my brothers, they've been harassing me again.”

Emil sat down beside her on the sofa, taking her hands in his, the contact sought to offer some comfort in the midst of the emotional storm. Nikita, seeing the scene, snapped his fingers with a quick, precise gesture, making a bottle of wine float towards them. Imitating Emil, he sat at his friend’s feet, watching the situation with a mix of discomfort and concern.

“It's the only way I can get out of that family. My father promised. Once I do my part, I'll be free. I won't have to go back to Russia, or work for them or see them ever again. It's just a job, and I'll be free.”

“What has your father asked of you?” Nikita asked, his tone serious, not breaking his gaze from Katya. “What exactly does he wants?”

Katya hesitated for a moment, her mind struggling with the truth she was about to release. Finally, her words came out, trembling but clear.

“He wants... he wants direct contact with the Dark Lord” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. “He believes he’ll return and that, with his influence, he can take full control of the Russian Committee.”

“Fucking bastard,” Emil cursed, his voice full of contempt, as if the hatred for Katya’s father consumed him.

“Why does he want that?” Nikita asked, frowning, still not understanding the magnitude of what was happening. “He’s already in power in the Committee, what more could he want?”

Emil looked at him with a seriousness that went deep. His grave tone answered with a bluntness that only years of disillusionment could provide.

“What else could an ambitious bastard like him want, dear?” Emil paused, his gaze fixed on a distant point, as if searching for answers in the air. “What more power is there after basically being the leader of a country?”

Katya took a deep breath, her body exhausted by the tears and the weight of her own words. In a quiet voice, almost a whisper, she completed the revelation.

“He wants to become the Supreme Wizard,” she said, as if she had just let go of a breath. “It’s his greatest dream. He would sacrifice anything for it, even his daughter’s life.”