Fame and Misfortune

Summary -- Hermione ignores Severus\' instruction, leaves school grounds, and is kidnapped. (Insert dramatic music here.)

A/N – Here is where I give big, wet, sloppy kisses to my beta readers, Kathy Rose and Larilee. Yes, I know you two would rather have money. More author’s notes are at the bottom.

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Chapter Seven –

Hugging her robe about her shoulders, Hermione hurried through the streets of Hogsmeade. Wizards and witches scurried from shop to shop, the cold nip of winter encouraging haste. She stomped past Zonko’s Joke Shop and Gladrags, a route she had taken many times as a student.

Kicking the mud off her boots, she inhaled, reveling in the fresh air and anticipating her purchase at Scrivenshaft\'s Quill Shop. Not only was she outside the walls of Hogwarts, she was in one of her favorite places. This was the perfect remedy for her troubled thoughts – fresh air and a new quill.

For today, she would forget about Severus Snape and her unwanted admirer. For once, she would be normal. (Whatever that was.) She would throw caution to the wind and have fun.

She walked into the shop and smiled at the shopkeeper. Looking over the variety of quills, she mentally ticked off how much she could spend and what she would spend it on. Her savings had taken quite a hit after she’d been sacked, but it was steadily recovering.

Hermione ran her hands over the feathers and wondered what effect one would have on her husband. She laughed at herself. The idea was ludicrous. Severus would never relinquish control. Rubbing her wrists self-consciously, she remembered when he had released her from the magical bindings.

He’d told her that she was in control, and with that control, she had begged him to do things to her as she had explored the unfamiliar realm of passion. Something had changed last night. She felt connected as if she were a piece to something bigger.

“I guess if you’re not used to mind-blowing sex, you’d definitely feel different,” she mumbled to herself, lost deep in thought and not paying attention to anything around her. She twirled the shaft of the feather between her fingertips and let her imagination run wild.

Images of her husband’s superior smirk as he swept the feather over her body drove a lance of passion through her entire being. Feeling the flush creep through her body, Hermione looked around guiltily. The shopkeeper was giving her an odd look and she set the quill down quickly.

Turning to leave, she ran into a solid wall of flesh. Strong arms steadied her.

“I’m so sorry,” she stammered, not even looking at the person she had run into. “Pardon me.”

The strong arms did not let her go and she looked up to see a familiar face. “Neville!”

Neville smiled and cleared his throat. “Hermione.”

“What are you doing in Hogsmeade?” she asked, giving him a fast hug and backing out of his embrace.

The bell on the door rang, signaling the arrival of another patron.

Clearing his throat again, Neville stared at her. “I was meeting someone, but they haven’t arrived yet. Would you like to go to Madam Puddifoot’s?”

“I would love to. It’s –” Hermione chirped.

“You will do no such thing,” the unmistakably angry voice of her husband hissed behind her.

“Severus!” she gasped, feeling the flush of lust course through her veins once again. “You startled me.”

Backing away from Severus and into Neville, Hermione accidentally stepped on the younger wizard’s toes.

Neville’s arms wrapped around her waist and his hand settled just below her breast.

“It isn’t polite to startle people, Professor Snape,” snapped Neville, uncharacteristically brave.

Hermione moved out of her former classmate’s embrace and smoothed a hand over her robe. Severus scowled down at her, making her feel as though she had done something wrong.

“Be quiet, Longbottom,” Severus growled. “Your opinion is not needed in this matter. Go back to the school, Hermione.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she cocked her head to the side in challenge. “No.” There was no way she was going to let him bully her like he had always bullied Neville. Besides, short of picking her up, tossing her over his shoulder, and carrying her out of the shop, there was no way she was leaving.

“Go back to the school, Hermione,” Severus demanded, his inflection one of restrained warning.

She turned and took Neville’s arm. “Come on, Neville. Let’s go to Madam Puddifoot’s.”
She could feel Severus’ rage radiating across the room as he grunted his disapproval.

Her heart raced as she stepped outside with her fellow Gryffindor. The cool wind hit her face and took her breath away. Yes, she would have to pay the price for defying Severus tonight, but this taste of freedom, along with the look on his face, was definitely worth it.

She tugged Neville’s sleeve, adrenaline encouraging her recklessness, fearful Severus would come after her. “Hurry, Neville!” she encouraged, pulling him down the alleyway and past a building. A couple of students ran past them, laughing.

“He’ll be livid tonight,” Hermione panted breathlessly, stumbling a little along the walk. She could see Madam Puddifoot’s as they walked past the Apothecary.

“He’ll never harm you again, my love,” Neville murmured softly, grasping both of her hands and pulling her into a side alley between the Apothecary and Madam Puddifoot’s. It looked as though they were an amorous couple, sneaking into the shadows to snog.

Hermione froze, unable to move or speak. Fear and something else held her immobile.

“I am so sorry you’ve had to suffer his touch,” her friend bemoaned in a voice that sounded like someone else’s.

She tried to reach for her wand, but found herself unable to. It was as though she had been robbed of her free will.

“After the Matron’s portrait told me what he did to you in the Infirmary last night, I knew I had to save you.”

His hand slid up the sleeve of her robe, searching for and finding her wand.

Feeling the threat of bile rise in her throat, Hermione blinked. She didn’t know who she was angrier with – herself or Neville – for this treachery. She was disarmed now, unable to fight him. Silently, she prayed for Severus to put aside his anger and look for her.

Neville’s soulful gaze peered into her eyes.

“I wish,” he sighed, brushing errant curls from her face, “that I could take all the pain away. I wish that I could Obliviate you and make all the bad memories go away. But the Love Potion he gave you would continue to work its despicable magic.”

With a surge of dismay, Hermione suddenly realized Neville, whom she had known and trusted for so long, was her stalker. The nameless, faceless person who had been hounding her was sweet, shy Neville! She almost couldn\'t believe his vague, neutral expression hid the soul of a stalker. Gods! How could she have been so stupid? Why hadn\'t she listened to Severus?

A tear would have slid down her cheek had seen been able to cry as she listened to him, his words laced with anxiety and his hand shaking as he ran his thumb over her full bottom lip.

“The only way the effects of the Love Potion will end is if one of the objects of that lust is removed from the equation. But first, I shall take you away – somewhere he can’t find you.” Embracing the object of his obsession, the stalker Apparated with her to his hidden lair.

--

Severus watched as Hermione walked off with Longbottom, tugging the man around the corner and out of his sight. The blasted chit! She was going to get her comeuppance tonight. He would make sure of that. The last thing he needed was a public confrontation to ruin the illusion of their happily wedded bliss. The stories had yet to die down, but at least his publicity was now favorable.

Hogsmeade was crawling with Skeeter’s spies. The last thing he needed was for Hermione to be photographed at Madam Puddifoot’s with that boy.

Storming out of the shop, Severus rounded the corner and made his way down the alleyway toward the sickeningly romantic spot. A perverse excitement grew within him as he contemplated the various ways he was going to fuck his wife. Perhaps he would introduce her to fellatio.

He stomped along the side of the street past the Apothecary. Looking into Madam Puddifoot’s, Severus scanned the room and ignored the nervous looks of several students. His scowl deepened.

“Will Madam Snape be joining us, Professor?” Madam Puddifoot asked, unable to conceal her delight at having an adult patron.

His eyes snapped to the elderly witch’s. “She isn’t here already?”

“No, sir.”

Panic was not an emotion he easily yielded to. “Is Neville Longbottom here?”

“No, sir.” The owner looked puzzled. “Neville Longbottom? I haven’t seen him in ages.”

--

Augusta Longbottom folded the evening edition of the Daily Prophet and sighed. Why she subscribed to such rubbish was beyond her. Surely there were things in the Wizarding world more important than Severus Snape’s sex life. Rita Skeeter should be drawn and quartered; better yet, burned at the stake, for hounding that man.

She didn’t give a Hippogriff’s hindquarters that the wizard’s marriage seal with Hermione Granger had changed colors. She never would have figured Neville’s former professor to be such a closet romantic. To bind oneself to another for all eternity was an intensely private and stupid thing to do. And she couldn’t believe that the Ministry had gone to such extremes to monitor such events. A private bonding should be just that – private.

Supporting herself with her cane, Augusta stood and limped her way toward the fireplace, sighing when she heard the doorbell ring. Making her way to the foyer to greet her unwanted visitors, she made no attempt to smile. She was too old to be bothered with people who couldn’t be bothered to owl ahead, especially at this time of night.

“Where is he?” a chorus of angry voices shouted.

The prospect of a confrontation hurried Augusta along. No one was going to yell at her house-elf and live to tell about it.

“What is going on here?” she bellowed as she neared the commotion.

Miffy, her house-elf, was bowing so low that the quivering servant spoke to the floor. “They come for Master Longbottom,” Miffy squeaked.

Two Aurors ran past her and up the stairs.

Harry Potter and Severus Snape stood in the doorway, questioning the house-elf.

“What is the meaning of this?” Augusta shouted, reaching for her wand, but Snape withdrew his and pointed it at the old witch.

--

“Where is my wife?” Severus leveled his wand at Augusta’s throat and practiced a restraint he didn’t know he was capable of.

“How should I know?” the old witch spat haughtily, her gaze lingering over his shoulder on Potter.

“If you’re protecting him, Augusta…” he menaced angrily, more enraged with himself than Longbottom’s grandmother.

“Professor.” Potter\'s voice of logic made the tattered edges of his reasoning fray even further, and it took all his willpower to keep it from totally unraveling. “Lower your wand.”

The two Aurors, who had stormed upstairs, Apparated into the foyer.

“Nobody is up there, Harry,” one of them stated.

“Someone had best tell me the meaning of this,” Augusta demanded as she walked away from Snape in a show of open defiance.

Running a hand through his already unruly hair, Potter sighed. “Professor Snape is adamant that Neville has kidnapped Hermione.”

The elderly witch looked down her nose at him in disdain. “My grandson would do no such thing! He’s probably dawdling in the greenhouse. Go check for yourself.”

--

Rubbing the bump on his head self-consciously, Neville moved the Mandrake seedlings onto the shelf. He would need to replant them tomorrow. It was not really a task he enjoyed. His Screechsnaps screeched and spread out their leaves as he walked by. So he grabbed his watering can and started to water them.

The greenhouse door burst open and a pane of glass shattered. In terror, he watched as one of his worst nightmares stomped on the crabgrass. Snape’s black teaching robes billowed behind him, lending to Neville’s fear of his former professor.

“Wake up, Neville,” he mumbled quietly, frozen in place. There was nothing he could do. Not only had he had one of the worst days in his life, but now he was having a nightmare.

Snape, his wand out, shouted, \"Where is she?\"

Backing away from the livid Potions master, Neville tried to duck under one of the tables. But he wasn’t quick enough as he felt a hand grab his ankle and pull him backwards. He was flipped onto his back.

“Unhand my grandson,” Augusta Longbottom commanded breathlessly, the definitive click-clack of her cane sounding in the distance.

Neville tried to reach for his wand but could not find it.

“Let him go, Snape,” Harry demanded.

Neville felt the press of a wand against his Adam’s apple.

“What did you do with my wife?” Snape asked, spittle flying from his mouth as though he were having a fit.

“You-you’re married?” Neville gasped, wincing as a boot heel twisted into his wrist.

--

“Do not make me restrain you, Professor Snape!” Harry threatened.

Feeling a deluge of helplessness wash over him, Severus tightened his grip on Longbottom’s collar and shook the hapless wizard. “Don’t play games with me, boy.”

Something cracked over his head and Severus saw stars. At first he thought Potter had actually hexed him. But when he felt the sharp contact again, Severus realized that Augusta Longbottom was accosting him with her cane.

“Accio cane,” Potter shouted and an indignant exclamation from the old bat followed.

Augusta’s attack had been successful, causing Severus to loosen his grip on Neville long enough for the young wizard to crawl away from him and under the table.

“First, I’m mugged at St. Mungo’s,” Neville wailed in irony, staggering to stand. “Now I’m accosted in my own home. What a wonderful day!”

Holding his head, Severus tried to stand up. At first, he had clung to the hope that Hermione had gone off with Neville to spite him. But now the sinking feeling turned into something he’d never given into before – fear.

Longbottom’s demeanor and words made little sense to him. When he’d seen him this morning, he had thought he had imagined the cold hatred in his former pupil’s eyes. “When was the last time you saw my wife?” Severus rasped in pain.

“I don’t even know who your wife is,” Neville answered.

“When was the last time you saw Hermione, Neville?” Harry asked quickly.

“Before she was sacked,” Longbottom stammered, looking back and forth between him and Potter.

Finally managing to right himself, Severus stood up and brushed his robes off. Longbottom didn’t have Hermione. Or, at least, this Longbottom didn’t have her. How could he have been so stupid?

Someone had used Polyjuice Potion to abduct his wife. It was one of the oldest tricks in the book. He ignored Potter’s apologies to the Longbottoms and the declaration by Neville that he would do anything to help. Feeling as though the crucial piece to the puzzle was dancing just out of his reach, Severus groaned.

His epiphany hovered beyond the concussion the old crone had undoubtedly given him.

“When were you mugged at St. Mungo’s?” Severus asked Neville, who looked as though he’d pass out at any moment.

“Th-this morning. When I visited mum and dad.” Neville brushed dirt from his robe. “It was really strange. I was taking a bubble gum wrapper from mum and the next thing I remember is waking up in a broom closet on one of the upper floors. One of the janitors found me. He helped me find my wand and fix my hair. It had been cut, and rather poorly at that.”

“St. Mungo’s,” Potter mumbled so quietly that Severus almost hadn’t heard him.

That was it! St. Mungo’s was the common denominator. The feeling that he was grasping at straws pressed upon him. He would start at the hospital. He didn’t care if he had to search every ward, interrogate every employee and patient. He was going to find his wife.

*****

A/N – I think it’s safe to say that I dropped enough hints. Hermione’s stalker is not Neville. The stalker’s true identity will be revealed next chapter – honest. Thanks to all who are following this story and leaving reviews. I am truly grateful for all of the guesses, input, and general comments. My muse is speechless. Trust me! That’s a difficult thing to do. The pain in the ass keeps waking me up around three in the morning and telling me what to type. Yawn…