Fame and Misfortune

Summary -- Severus stews as Hermione goes after Gilderoy. Gilderoy’s obsession knows no bounds.

A/N – It goes without saying that I owe Kathy Rose and Larilee so much.

Chapter Seventeen –

Trapped in darkness, Severus struggled against the preternatural force that held him captive. It was disquieting, the tug and pull of what felt like water, the effort it took to breathe. He felt leaden, as though a weight had been tied to his left wrist. No matter how hard he struggled, he could not free himself.

Memories bubbled to the surface – making love to Hermione, the need to protect her. That thought alone bordered on absurd. Gryffindors did not need protection from anything or anyone other than themselves.

He had hated to leave her… How long had it been? The murky depths of his prison did not mark time.

Another event played in his mind, one in direct contrast to Hermione’s goodness and love. It was evil and full of hatred.

The flood of emotions stilled his attempts to escape. It was something he had learned as a spy – embrace the evil, but do not let it consume you. But that was the problem. The evil was not directed at him. It was aimed at Hermione. The Dark Magic that had ensnared him was meant to punish her. He could feel the seething anger of the beast.

Wincing in pain, Severus clutched his left forearm. A brief moment of clarity shimmered in the muddy depths of his hell.

He had been cursed, the pain of the magic burning the Dark Mark.

Evil recognized evil.

In the distance, he could hear her voice. It called to him like a siren luring her prey to its watery death. He was unable to resist her, the torment of not being able to go to her cut into his soul bit by agonizing bit. He felt her touch as she stroked his hand of flesh and the weight of her as she sat on her bed.

“Poppy is confident she will find the cure.” Her words were calm and soothing, but he could hear the silent tears fall upon her cheeks – the sadness in her voice.

Even if he had to move heaven and hell, he vowed to find his way back to her. He could try to ignore the reality of his situation, but the irony couldn\'t be overlooked. As a Potions master, he had easily identified the archaic potion that now held him in its grasp, but the cure was out of his reach.

Medusa’s Kiss was as old as time itself. Legend had it that once Perseus had slain Medusa, the Fates had gathered the remnants of the Gorgon’s body. One drop of her blood could turn a man to stone. Only Aphrodite’s tears could free the frozen statues. Seeing as Aphrodite no longer existed, obtaining one of her tears would be impossible.

“William and Allison send their best,” Hermione murmured, “even though you did take all those points away from Ravenclaw.”

Feeling the warmth of her lips press against his, Severus groaned. He would sell his soul to be able to kiss her back.

“I need you…” Hermione’s cinnamon breath caressed his cheek. “Promise me you won’t be cross when I get back. Promise me you’ll hold on.”

His wife sounded desperate, almost repentant. What was she up to?

“I’m going alone,” she whispered. “I can’t let anyone else get hurt.”

An uneasy feeling lurched in the pit of his leaden stomach.

“I’ll find him. It shouldn’t be too difficult,” Hermione continued with a sarcastic chuckle. “He has one of me too, my love. I can feel the pull of his magic. The doll…his enchantment…will not work. I am bound to you. Nothing can come between us, not even death.”

He wanted to call out to her, to make her see reason, but he couldn’t speak. Liquid shadows ravaged the tenuous connection on reality and he was whisked away against his will.

Time he was unable to measure passed. Another conversation whispered around him.

“I need you to follow her,” Albus’ stern voice instructed someone. “Use any means necessary. We need Gilderoy captured alive if we are to unravel what has been done.”

Yes, yes, railed Severus silently. Find that bastard and keep him alive long enough for me to kill him!

“Professor,” a familiar voice replied. “What if the enchantment takes hold of Hermione?”

Take hold of Hermione? As long as she stayed within the protective wards of Hogwarts, no enchantments could harm her.

“That is why you are to follow her,” the headmaster whispered conspiratorially. “You can’t let her know that she is being followed, though.”

What! Severus seethed. Once he found his way back to Hermione, he was going to find some way to punish her. Not only that, he was going to hex Dumbledore for allowing her to leave. How dare Albus use Hermione as bait!

His rage fermented as the conversation drifted away.

--

Standing in front of enchanted mirror, Hermione pulled her outer cloak into place. The castle was quiet, only the wisps of ghosts and restlessness of the portraits made any sounds. She would use the cover of darkness to escape.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and prayed.

“I forbid you to go,” a masculine voice demanded sternly.

Hermione’s eyes snapped open. Severus’ reflection scowled at her and a moment of hope sprang to life. She turned around and found nothing.

“I forbid you to go,” the reflection repeated the command.

Her gaze snapped back to the mirror. “Oh, it’s you,” Hermione stated, her inflection dejected and flat.

“I thought you would be happy to see your husband,” the mirror murmured with an intensity that made her shiver.

“You are not my husband,” she snapped.

“Quite right you are.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his eyes roamed up and down her figure in intimate appraisal. “Even though your husband is not next to you, I sense his frustration and rage.”

Her reflection appeared in the mirror and wrapped its arms lovingly around Severus’ waist. “I feel him too, but you are doing the right thing.”

“Thank you,” replied Hermione, taking some small comfort in their words.

“Do not encourage her reckless behavior, my love.”

Hermione’s mirror image moved Severus’ hair from the nape of his neck and suckled his pulse point.

His dark eyes clouded with desire, but remained fixed on Hermione. “I forbid you to go,” he hissed as the hand of the seductress in the mirror slid beneath his waistband. He grabbed her hand and tried to still her movements.

Did they have no sense of modesty? Hermione averted her gaze and started toward the door.

“Stop!” shouted Severus.

She turned, ready for the argument that the blasted mirror seemed so keen on having. “Nothing you can say will change my mind.”

Her husband’s reflection closed his eyes as her doppelganger seduced him. Her hands traveled the length of his naked chest.

“You should go now,” her reflection whispered. “Your task may seem daunting, but do not give up. Time is of the essence. He is slipping farther away.”

“What do you mean?” She could feel the tears choke her throat.

“Medusa’s embrace will offer him solace soon,” her reflection whispered softly. “You must hurry.”

Hermione had no time for tears or regret and did not look back. She pulled her cloak tighter and walked through the door.

--

Gliding over the grounds, Hermione felt the urge to keep going. The push and pull was terrifying. She did not want to leave Severus, but knew she must. The compulsion pulling at her was growing stronger. It would not consume her. She wouldn’t let it.

Something wasn’t right. Nothing was right. Nothing had been right with her life in quite some time. Of that, she was sure. She hurried through the Forbidden Forest, leaves and twigs snapping in her path.

The farther she walked, the more she felt the emptiness grow stronger. It was as though she were leaving a part of herself behind. Clutching her hand to her chest, Hermione slumped against a tree and tried to catch her breath.

She had to go on. She had to put an end to this madness. She clutched the last vestiges of hope within her heart. She would find the effigy and a cure for Severus. There had to be another way to free him.

She was close. She could feel the magical barrier. Blindly, Hermione rushed into the night.

Once past Hogwarts’ grounds, she stopped dead in her tracks.

“Come to me!” a loud, angry voice boomed in her mind. “Grab the Portkey and we shall be together soon!”

Looking down at her feet, Hermione saw a large, out-of-place conch shell.

A twig snapped nearby, startling her from her reverie. Was she being followed? She peered over her shoulder. No one was there.

The compulsion grew more desperate, forcing her to her knees. She grabbed the shell and felt an odd tug as though someone else were holding it too. Before she could analyze that, the Portkey carried her away from the edge of the forest.

Wind whipped around her and lights flashed before her. Soon she would arrive. Soon she would face Gilderoy. As with Apparition, traveling by Portkey was disorienting and tended to knock the breath out of you. Closing her eyes as the lights and colors swirled around her, Hermione prepared herself.

With a harsh thud, she landed on a rocky shore, the sound of the tide deafening her. Pulling her wand from her sleeve, Hermione peered over her shoulder. The full moon was bright against the rolling tide. She thought she heard someone curse, but there was too much wind. Rocks were sliding around her, whether disturbed by her arrival or the wind, she did not know.

In the distance, she could see a flickering light. It wasn’t starlight or moonlight. It was firelight. It called to her, Gilderoy’s voice part of the dancing embers. The lure of the enchantment beckoned to her and she followed the call willingly.

As she drew closer, pain sliced through her soul. Her heart felt leaden, as though it had turned to stone. It was weighted down with the burdens she carried.

”You’re free,” Lockhart chanted in her mind. “Come to me. Be with me.”

Hermione climbed toward the cave. She should be afraid, but she wasn’t. She was too busy dodging falling rocks to give in to fear.

A lone figure was stooped over the fire. Clutching her wand tightly, she advanced. Her eyes never left Lockhart. The roar of the waves crashing against the shore masked the sound of her approach. If she could just get a little closer, she could free Severus.

Shadows danced in the cave, one of them acting unnaturally as it drew closer to Lockhart.

Gods no! If anything happened to the bloody arse, she’d never find the effigy. The shadow inched closer, spurring her to run faster.

The shadow shimmered and turned into something solid. There was a flash of brilliant white light, which momentarily blinded her. But she kept going. Hermione stumbled on the rocks, tears rolling down her cheeks, her emotions raw from the trauma of the last few days. She was so close.

As she neared the entrance of the cave, she could hear her tormentor’s voice.

“Where is she!” Lockhart demanded as he kicked someone.

Hermione got closer, her breath barely able to move through her body. She couldn’t tell who was lying on the ground. There wasn’t much light.

A soft rasping groan was Gilderoy’s only answer.

“Tell me where she is, Potter!” the incensed madman shouted.

Stamping down the fear, Hermione stepped into the light. “I’m here, my love. I’ve come to you.”

She didn’t recognize the man who faced her. His robes were tattered, his blonde hair ashen and dirty. Various smudges marked his face. As she approached him, she could smell the putrid acidic smell of body odor. Somehow, Hermione managed not to gag.

Lockhart said nothing. His eyes were wide with shock. It was almost as though he didn’t believe she was real.

Harry groaned and her gaze flitted to him. She would need to get Lockhart away from Harry.

As if sensing her thoughts, Gilderoy moved between her and Harry, his wand raised defensively.

“We should leave,” she suggested, motioning for him to take her hand. “Before any others show up.” She could see the distrust in his eyes. He thought she had brought Harry with her.

“Give me your wand, Hermione,” he commanded softly as he held his hand out.

She reached for her wand slowly and offered it to him. Dear Merlin, please don’t let him hurt anyone else.

Like a wild animal taking food from a stranger, Lockhart approached her and snatched her wand away. “She said I should leave you alone. Said you were a harlot, trifling with my feelings. She didn’t want me to use Voodoo. Said I would have to pay the price.”

“Who?” she whispered shakily.

A vicious look crossed his menacing features. “That old hen, Strout.”

Closing her eyes, Hermione stayed the rolling turmoil in her stomach. He had killed Miriam Strout. She had to remain calm. Even though she wanted to hex the man before her into oblivion, she couldn’t let on that she did.

He was behind her now, having circled her several times to ascertain whether she had any other surprises in store for him.

Hermione stared straight ahead, not wanting to agitate the madman. In the distance, she saw Harry move. Fear slithered up her spine as Lockhart fingered her hair, moving it off her shoulder. Her stomach lurched. His body odor and touch sickened her.

“I love you,” he breathed against her neck.

Bile rose in her throat. “I-I l-love you too,” whispered Hermione as she tried to buy Harry some time.

His eyes narrowing skeptically, Gilderoy moved in front of her.

She didn’t blink. If she did, he would know the truth. Welcoming the compulsion to love him, Hermione managed a weak smile.

Accepting her invitation, Lockhart moved to kiss her.

As the smell of rancid breath fell upon her lips, she flinched.

Her mistake sealed her fate. Clutching her upper arms, he shook her and threw her to the ground.

“Liar!” he bellowed, pointing his wand at her.

As she braced for whatever curse he was going to hurl at her, Hermione gasped as she watched him stiffen and fall backwards. She turned toward her savior – a rumpled-looking Dumbledore.

His normally sparkling blue eyes were deadly serious as he inspected the Body-Binding Curse he had captured Lockhart with. “Are you all right?” he asked as he held out his hand to her.

Without answering him, Hermione crawled toward Harry. Ascertaining that her friend would be fine, she jumped up and ran to Albus. The old wizard opened his arms and offered the traumatized witch comfort.

Flicking his wand toward Harry, Dumbledore stroked Hermione’s wildly mussed hair.

Groaning, Harry sat up and rubbed his head. “What happened?”

“Gilderoy stunned you,” replied Albus.

“Is Hermione all right?”

The headmaster nodded. “You did well Harry. That was quick thinking, sending the Portkey back to my office. Do you have the Veritaserum with you?”

“Yes,” Harry answered as he approached the supine form of Gilderoy Lockhart.

“Once I wake him, give him the Truth Serum,” Albus instructed. “We haven’t much time.”

Holding her breath, she watched the headmaster bind Lockhart with magical rope before waking him. Harry grabbed the captive’s blonde hair and forced the Veritaserum down the struggling wizard’s throat.

Even though Gilderoy was restrained and at their mercy, Albus kept his wand trained on him. “Where is the effigy?”

He struggled against the ropes, spittle flying from his mouth as he laughed. “You’ll never free him! She’s mine!”

“Answer the question, Gilderoy.” Dumbledore’s voice was low and dangerous.

The wizard bit his lip to keep from telling the truth, but the truth erupted anyway. “The ocean!”

“Where in the ocean?” Harry asked.

Lockhart cackled, his laugh high and shrill. “Days,” he wheezed. “Deep in the ocean. He’ll never hurt her again!”

Losing patience, Dumbledore ran his hand over his wary face. “Tell us what you’ve done, Gilderoy. Where is the effigy? How did it get there? Where did you get a drop of Medusa’s blood? Is that what you used?”

Gilderoy was turning purple with the strain of keeping his secrets. “Knockturn Alley! The caplata cast the spells on the dolls. He didn’t want to, but I made him. I provided Medusa’s blood.”

“Where is he?” Hermione whispered the question, already knowing that another person was dead because of her.

“He suffered the same fate as Snape’s doll!” he rasped as tears streamed down his cheeks. “If I had killed the bastard like I had wanted to, you would have followed him.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Harry, collecting his and Hermione’s wands.

Lockhart succumbed to hysterical laughter. “I-I brewed…the st-strongest love potion, and y-you still would not come to me. You bound yourself to him willingly!” he spat. “How could you?”

Grasping her wand, Hermione pointed it between her stalker’s eyes. “Where is the doll?” she murmured each syllable slowly.

“In the sea,” he answered again. “We flew for days. I didn’t want anyone to undo what I have done. If I can’t have you, no one will.”

Pressing her wand against his pallid cheek, Hermione growled. “Where is it!”

“I threw both dolls into the ocean,” he hissed. “Once the poison consumes him, he will turn to stone.”

“Where is Hermione’s effigy, Gilderoy?” The headmaster looked pale, as though he had made a sickening discovery.

Sobbing, Lockhart struggled against the magical restraints. “I tied it to his.”

“In death and life, always bound, always one,” Albus murmured shakily, looking round the cave as though an answer would magically appear in front of him.

“What is it?” Harry looked puzzled. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t you see?” Albus shuddered. “Since Hermione is bound to Severus, she shall suffer the same fate. The curse will seep through their bond. It will consume her just as it is attempting to consume Severus.”

*****

A/N – A caplata is a Voodoo priest who practices dark magic. If it’s any consolation, Larilee is not sure she likes me anymore for this evil cliffie. But I have good news! The next chapter is the last chapter!