Disclaimer: I own nothing you recognize.
A/N: You'll see elements of previous stories; A Special Guest comes to mind. Special thanks to SnuggleKitten69 and Runecutter for typo hunting help.
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Hermione awoke in a position she absolutely detested. Her arms were bound above her head, and her thigh hurt with every single movement. "Oh… someone's going to have to die for this…" she moaned softly.
"Heh. Maybe it'll be you?" came a gruff voice.
Head still down, eyes closed, the voice echoed in her ears. It made her head ache like the hangover she had after Luna's last birthday party. It had taken every ounce of influence she had to keep them from all being permanently banned from the country of Belgium after that fiasco.
Mushrooms, why did it always have to be mushrooms? She mused.
"Not so tough without your boyfriend to protect you, eh?" He taunted.
"He's not my boyfriend. Judging from your low intelligence and telling accent, I'd say you must be a member of that Magical Supremacist group our Intelligence department helped take down before a handful escaped across to the American side."
"You're trying to fish for information, aren't you? Well, it won't help you a bit. I scanned your entire body for locators and eavesdroppers; anything you learn stays with you. You might say you're taking it to the grave! Hah Hah!"
"No denial. Perfect, so that would make you Andrew Jean Westra, age 35, no job skills to speak of, not especially talented in magic, dropout of the Magical University of Calgary." She raised her head to look the hairy, unkempt man straight in the eye. There was fear beginning to grow there.
"The others have been caught. You're the last. I'd imagine you've had trouble getting supporters which is why you're all alone here."
"You don't know what you're talking about. There are lots of us!"
Skeptically, Hermione continued. "No living next of kin, no one to miss you once I make you disappear…" she paused to let her steely gaze bore into the man. "And from what I see here, never been kissed, never went on a date; in short, a complete and utter failure at life."
"Shut up!"
"Note to self, subject also fails at witty repartee."
"I'll cut you!"
"Come now, I've been threatened and tortured by some of the worst dark witches and wizards the world has seen in the past two centuries. Do you honestly think such a mundane and small threat is enough to cow me?" She looked at him pityingly; something that perhaps hurt worse than the biting remarks about his failure as a man and as a human being.
"You just stop running your mouth, bitch! I'm the one in control here. You do what I say and maybe, maybe I won't kill you."
"So your goal isn't to kill me - that's good to know. But what use would you have for me?" she asked more to herself. "I'm not currently on active duty, not that you would know anything about that; I've no money to my name that you would know of either, in short, I'm useless as a hostage."
"You're precious to someone; someone very important. Heh. Once he finds out I've got you at my mercy, he'll be no more than a trained dog. I'll have him speak out; have him denounce the filthy Muggles, maybe have him perform some very public acts of Muggle terrorism, and then make him kill himself in front of everyone. Then I'll let you go. You have no idea what a rallying cry his death would be. I'll be legendary. Supporters of the last dark lord will come out of the woodwork and I'll be their leader. I will rule the world!"
"My, my. What an incredible plan you have there. I wouldn't have thought you capable of such a thing."
"I know, brilliant, isn't it?"
"Oh, brilliant doesn't describe that plan at all."
He preened at her words.
"It's sheer, unadulterated, colossal, titanic, humongous, imbecility nonpareil."
"I don't understand what those words mean… but something good, right?"
Feeling a headache coming on from this feeble intellect in front of her, Hermione gave up the pretense of still being captured and removed her hand from the dungeon grade manacle that had been long unlocked by her bracelet's Houdini Key. She proceeded to massage her forehead. "No, not good. Basically, and I'll use small words you can hopefully understand. "I think your plan is stupid."
"How did you get free!? Don't move!" He leveled his wand at her.
"Don't raise your voice, please. I've suddenly got a terrible headache. It happens sometimes when I'm in prolonged contact with idiots." She waved her hand and the spell focus embedded in her glamoured ring activated as her will formed her magic into a low grade paralysis spell.
He couldn't move.
She reached down to unstrap the cilice that was tied around her thigh. "I'll give you credit for the cilice. Pain is a remarkably effective way to keep someone from concentrating enough to use wandless magic. Fortunately, the aforementioned experience with torture makes the cilice somewhat ineffective." He didn't need to know about the emergency spell focus. She waved her hand over her thigh and the wounds healed.
"Kill me! You weak panderer to that Muggle filth that infests the planet must love killing free thinking Magicals who fight for Magical Ascendancy."
"Oh, goodness, no, you poor sad little man. That wouldn't be at all proper. You must be tried, found guilty and sentenced."
"Huh? Weren't you going to make me disappear?"
"As a duly designated official of Her Majesty's Magical government, to all who may be listening, I officially return to duty. I take up all rights, duties and responsibilities of my position and title forthwith and carry out those same duties and responsibilities to the best of my abilities. God Save the Queen."
"What?"
"There are protocols that must be followed, please don't speak unless given leave to speak or else." She finished simply.
"But I-" his protest was cut off as Hermione extended the paralysis spell to encompass his lips. Mumbles could be heard.
"Now, what did I just say?"
More mumbles.
"That's better. Now, as I was saying, you hereby stand accused of kidnapping a senior official of Her Majesty's Magical Government. How do you plead?"
Mumbles… nothing but mumbles.
"Oh, sorry. You can speak now."
"Not guilty."
"Since I'm the senior government official in question, I'm here, and I did not come willingly, I think it goes without saying that you are in fact quite guilty. In addition, lying to an official regarding matters of a criminal nature is also a fairly grave offense."
"I protest!"
"On what grounds?"
"I'm sorry…"
"Let it be noted that the accused shows remorse."
He whimpered.
"Anything else you'd like to say?"
"Don't let your boyfriend have me."
Hermione moved her hand to massage the bridge of her nose. "I already told you, he's not my boyfriend."
"Don't play games with me. I read the autobiography and I know what he did when Bellatrix had you captured."
"Harry never wrote an autobiography." Hermione answered smartly.
"Harry? Harry Potter? I'm not talking about that glory hound. I'm talking about the Red Death himself, the pureblood wizard whom the Dark Lord even feared."
"You're serious? That utter tripe that Ronald wrote to keep from insolvency?"
"Hah! It told the truth! Our Dark Lord couldn't have been defeated by a preening peacock of a half-blood like Harry Potter. I know it was all propaganda by the Muggle-Loving Left. The people your government is controlled by. "
Shaking her head in an effort to dispel the headache, Hermione leapt down and advanced on the man. "I take it all back. You aren't an idiot of colossal proportions. You're deeply delusional. You should be committed somewhere where you won't be a danger to anyone including yourself."
"So, you're not going to turn me over to the Red Death?"
"Oh please, he blew through his dirty book money like a quaffle through a goal post. If Lavender hadn't felt sorry for him, I'm quite certain he'd have been found dead in a gutter somewhere. Bald and pot-bellied, he's a danger to a bottle of Ogden's Finest, but that's about it."
"Then what?"
"We'll just send you to that lovely magical prison the Americans are maintaining down in Cuba. Our forensic thaumatologists speculate it's all that remains of the Atlantean mainland. The upheaval that sank the rest of the island makes the area a magical sinkhole. Magical transportation inevitably fails in the vicinity and magical effects are unwieldy at best. So I have said, so are you sentenced."
"What right do you have to sentence me?"
"She's Her Majesty's Minister of Magic of the United Kingdom." A masculine voice said.
"Harry!" She rushed over and embraced the man who had thrown back the hood of his invisibility cloak.
"Who the fuck are you?" asked the still paralyzed man, whose neck worked well enough for him to crane his head.
"A much aggrieved husband on his honeymoon." Said the man identified as Harry. Still holding Hermione, he gave her a look and she had the good graces to be embarrassed.
"I was only stepping out for coffee and pastries. I had no idea anyone even knew we were going to Niagara Falls for our honeymoon."
"You're not supposed to go anywhere without an escort. The girls are going to be furious when they find out I let you get captured. Of course, they'll be more furious with you when they realize you allowed yourself to be captured."
"I didn't want to wake you. After the monumental fuck fest we had, you were sleeping so peacefully, I just didn't have the heart to wake you."
"How'd you find her? I know she couldn't have contacted you? I have to know!"
"That's classified, need to know, information. You don't need to know." Harry answered brusquely.
"Harry. There's no need to be like that. He's not going to be able to tell anyone. No one ever leaves that place."
"Yes, but that's what they said about Azkaban."
"I'm telling him." The finality was evident in her words. "Besides, not knowing might unhinge him further." Plus, knowing how badly he screwed up should break what little self-esteem he has left.
He looked sternly at his wife who just happened to be the Minister for Magic and, he reminded himself, technically outranked him. "All right, fine. But people are going to find out."
"Let them. Maybe that will make people think twice about kidnapping me. Or you, for that matter."
Harry hrmphed at that.
"Ginny still hasn't gotten over the time you turned her down when she kidnapped you, drugged you, and tried to seduce you but all you could say was my name. I think she still goes on a fire whiskey bender whenever she gets reminded of it."
"At least she hasn't tried anything since."
"Only you would turn down an attractive, redheaded witch, in her birthday suit, in a private suite in a four star hotel when you were loaded to the gills with lust potions."
"What can I say…" he said with a shrug. "She wasn't you."
"Can you two please stop doing that? I'd vomit if my body was physically capable of it. That's sickening."
Hermione looked… annoyed. "Look, do you want to know how Harry found me or don't you?"
Looking suitably cowed the man nodded his head meekly.
"We're soul bound."
"Soul mates? That's an old fairy tale." The man protested.
"No really. Long story short, final battle with Voldemort, tried to block the death curse from each other and our dual sacrifice only split our souls. Part of his went into me and part of mine when into him. We always know where the other is."
Harry joined in. "I realized she had gone when she stepped out of the hotel lobby. If I hadn't had to take the time to dress, you'd never have gotten away with her."
"Damn it!" The frozen man cursed. "I should have known it was too good to be true."
"So, spur of the moment then?" Harry asked with professional curiosity.
The inept man was in tears. "Yeah, I recognized her from the cover of that autobiography the Red Death wrote. I didn't have a plan at the time, but I thought I could make one up."
Softly, Harry whispered to Hermione. "He doesn't mean Ron, does he?"
"None other. I knew we should have done something about that terrible work of fiction." Hermione whispered back.
"He's never going to hear the end of it from Lavender that his trashy, fictitious novel was responsible for you getting kidnapped."
"He's lucky she's expecting. She wouldn't want to deprive her child of a father, such as he is."
Speaking louder, Hermione declared. "All right, time to finish with official proceedings. Harry Potter, as a duly designated officer of the court, please proceed with his assigned punishment."
Harry produced a piece of parchment and a quill from his pocket of holding and gave it to his wife. He then proceeded to turn the man's clothes into a portkey set for a very specific location.
"What are you doing?" The man asked. "I thought you said magical transportation wouldn't work where you're sending me."
Harry smirked.
Hermione answered. "No, I said they inevitably fail."
Harry then cast a featherweight charm on the man. "And this portkey will fail just like she said. You'll materialize high enough in the atmosphere that the sinkhole effect won't be as strong. The featherweight charm will allow you to fall the rest of the way without using anything other than gravity and still have a good chance of survival with only a minimal number of broken bones. Just feel lucky that I'm the one casting the featherweight charm. They have to be cast fairly strong otherwise they have a tendency to fail before the prisoner makes landfall. I believe Bin Laden's magical advisor may have ended that way."
Having finished her note, Hermione stuck it in the man's chest pocket, borrowed Harry's wand and stuck it there with the best sticking charm she could muster. "There, now they shouldn't have any problem when they find you. Do hope the note stays with you all the way down. Americans have rather itchy trigger fingers. Without that, they may shoot you as a trespasser."
The man could only whimper.
"The trigger phrase, Harry?"
"You'll appreciate this." He whispered something in her ear.
"Oh, Harry." She chided then cleared her throat. "Delusions of Granger."
He felt something hook around his navel and then he was gone, only to reappear far, far above a speck of green. "AAGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
A wicked look on her face, reminding him that this was someone you should never cross, at least if you wanted to live. He asked tentatively, "What?"
"Oh, I may have, by accident, completely slipped my mind, you understand - forgotten to remove the paralysis."
"He'll still probably survive."
"I know; though it should make it an interesting trip down."
"You are absolutely wicked." Harry said, his breath hitching slightly.
She sauntered back to him, one hand reaching behind his ear to play with his longish black hair. She pressed herself against him and whispered in his ear with a husky tone. "And aren't you glad of it."
Harry shuddered. "Oh, yes."
"And those manacles gave me some very interesting ideas. We'll have to get some padded handcuffs or maybe we could use silk scarves?"
"I am so, so very glad." He said appreciatively.
-pop-
And they were gone.
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A/N: He's lucky they were taking a breather. I can't even imagine what she would have done if he'd actually interrupted the Honeymoon proper.