It's late and maybe I should wait, but I'm apparently not going to.
As ever, standard disclaimers apply.
Margaret had slept well and she looked it. There was no concern, no worry, no anxiety in her at all. What she did feel was triumph, but this she was careful to hide behind a layer of aloof professionalism. She ate a good but not mind numbing breakfast then headed to her office where the results from the overnight chemistry workups should be waiting for her. She sat down with a second cup of tea and perused them carefully finding that there were indeed, some very unusual deviations. She might dare argue that he wasn't really human, but she knew few would agree with that assessment and that her assessment was no doubt predicated on the fact that he was a bloody murderer!
Not that it was relevant to anyone else here. She finished off the cooling tea and shoved the papers into a tan colored hard folder that fastened with a snap closure and swept off to the small lab where her subject awaited her pleasure.
Severus Snape was supine on a hard flat surface, shackled at wrists and ankles by thick straps tightly cinched. His shirt had been ripped open, and the sleeves torn from cuff to shoulder. Cold air blew constantly across exposed flesh; he shivered involuntarily. He had no idea where he was or how he'd got there. He missed Molly and her always warm tea. He remembered a man telling him they were going away for Tea. He remembered a stand of pale green plants. He didn't remember what they were although he felt he should have. He remembered nothing else except opening his eyes to find himself tethered and hurting. Why were they hurting him? Molly and Remus never hurt him. He was not afraid, but he was curious.
A flash of white caught at the corner of his eye and then a white coated woman moved into view. She was neither young nor old, her short blond hair untouched with grey but her hard expression accentuated the few lines at her mouth and eyes. She held a strange wand made of metal. But he sensed no magic in her and so knew the stick was not what it seemed. She pointed it at the side of his face between eye and temple and a man's hand pressed something sticky against his flash. Two other overlarge hands held him immobile or he would have tried to dodge. She nodded and another sticky thing was pressed to the other side of his face.
"Carry on," the woman said to her assistant. The man continued to ply circular pads at the ends of thick cables to various places of his anatomy. He squirmed and was punished with a solid punch to his stomach. Before he could recover from that a series of blows slammed into him until he was limp and gasping, eyes barely able to stay open. The strange things were pressed to him but he couldn't have cared less at this point. The woman grabbed his jaw and forced his face to hers. "Can you hear me, Snape?" She growled.
He couldn't nod and didn't trust his voice. He blinked and she took it for the assurance she expected.
"You've no idea what these are, so I will tell you. They are called electrodes," speaking slowly as if to a despised and especially dim child. A tone much like the one he favored for ... Longbottom. (The name and a child's fear filled face rose sharply in his mind.) But hers was even more filled with vile loathing than he had ever managed. "Some tell me when your heart beats fast or slow or weakly. Or not at all," she purred leaning in close to whisper in his ear. "Others reveal other secrets." She straightened up and walked around him holding his gaze, knowing his eyes were focused completely on her. "Now, I am going to demonstrate how you will be punished should you drive me to it." She lifted the small metal wand in her hand so that he could see it clearly and well. "This is a modified cattle prod..." She touched it to his face, just below his right eye.
He'd had worse, he knew he'd had worse, he kept telling himself he'd had worse without actually recalling it. He knew it and he knew he mustn't cry out; a desperate order came from somewhere within him, 'Don't scream! Don't cry out. Don't give her what she wants!'
She raised a pale brow and again pressed the wand like thing below his eye. "Do you want this, Snape? Give in and I'll stop it." She let the metal rod touch him again in the same place and again it sent a jolt of pain through his now oversensitive nerves.
He jerked, turning his head and the instrument slid against his scalp and brushed his ear. He thought his head would explode. He almost hoped it would.
The agony receded and he realized he was panting. The woman, on the other hand was gazing serenely at something out of view, studying it with a thoughtful, interested expression. "Now that's interesting, Drew," words came from her, directed to another white coated Muggle.
"His body's very quick to react. I'd say he's not unaccustomed to a spot of torture," an unremarkable tenor replied.
"Quite, and look at the values! I think I've a better idea what to administer this time round. My goodness, he's recovering already." At that she turned her malevolent eyes to him again. "Snape, say goodbye to all you remember." She laughed because she was quite certain he remembered very little at all.
--
Ron and Harry had no trouble losing themselves in the inventory of their new school supplies (especially certain items that if they weren't already proscribed, they would be very soon after the school term started). Hermoine had stayed overnight in Ginny's room and both girls were sleeping in Hermoine was to be taken home sometime after supper. The house was quiet, then. Molly had gotten Arthur off as usual and she was sitting down with the paper and another round of tea and toast. Not that she was reading the paper. Actually she was ruminating. Last night had been horrible. Not that Severus Snape was Molly's favorite person. Not by far! The man on a good day was sneering and condescending. On a bad day she could almost be convinced of the worst. Almost but not quite. Even so, she would not have believed the lack of concern shown by the majority of the Order members at that hurried meeting. She knew Albus didn't believe the man had simply wandered off! She certainly didn't.
But what else? No one not of the Order could simply walk in! There were wards, by Merlin! She sniffed indignantly. Vance had accused her of not setting them properly when she went off to Diagon Ally. Arthur had almost leapt from his chair to defend her, but Albus' quiet defense was actually the more effective and likely saved them all from a host of bad feelings.
Still. Where was Snape?
The paper forgotten, she climbed to her feet and wandered upstairs. At least she could use up this angry energy cleaning. And since Snape wasn't about, she'd start with his room. The bed looked well used, sheets and blankets rumpled and twisted. And thrown back as if done in haste. She used a cleaning spell and then pulled everything tightly into place. She bent and picked up the pale grey nightshirt--
Wait a bit. Nightshirt here. Snape gone? She dropped it again and ran to the wardrobe, flinging the doors open so hard they banged loudly. When Remus and Poppy had brought Snape, they'd had in a bag a shirt and trousers. Snape's archaic shirt and trousers, fitted and long and graced with buttons. Missing. Molly spun about and making a quick search found the dark slippers Snape used when someone reminded him to.
But he wasn't capable of this! She knew it! He was still not himself, still trusting and dependent on others to guide him. He hardly remembered his name and he was surely still to weak to go off on his own. he simply would not have thought of it! Damn that thief!
"Bloody hell!" resounded throughout the house, waking the girls and startling the boys and none of them quite believed it was Molly's voice until they heard her running down the stairs.
Ron and Harry bolted out of their room and hurried after her, impelled by curiosity and no small amount of concern. "Mum?" Ron called out, "Mum? What's wrong?"
"Mundungus Fletcher is what's wrong!" She threw some floo into the fireplace and called sharply, "Albus Dumbledore!" The boys exchanged uncertain glances and by then Ginny and Hermoine had shown up, still in rumpled nightshirts.
"What wrong with mum, Ron?"
"Good morning Molly... Whatever, is the matter?"
"Albus, you know Fetcher lied, don't you."
"I know he is hiding something."
"Why didn't you just use legilimency?"
"It is terribly intrusive Molly and he's both a friend and --"
"No, Albus. I don't think he is. I think he knows something about Severus' disappearance." She took a breath. "Severus' clothing is gone, but his nightshirt is here. Either he intended to leave and got dressed, or... he was helped." The last word was clearly a euphemism. "Albus, Severus is not yet able to care for himself. He is quite incapable of thinking ahead!"
Dumbledore was crestfallen, so much so that all four teens felt an unbearable ache for him. "Thank you Molly. By the way, I spoke to Arthur and Tonks; the Ministry does not have Severus. He is most surely missing again." He stepped away and let the floo connection break.
Molly simply collapsed into the nearest chair. "Poor Albus," she murmured softly to herself. "This is such a blow."
"Losing Snape?" Ron asked.
But his mother shook her head. "Losing faith, I fear. Well, we still have things to do and you have only a few hours before Hermoine must return home. I'll make you all a late breakfast, shall I? Girls, get dressed already!" Mrs Weasley huffed and with renewed, if somewhat forced, energy she marched down to the kitchen and threw herself into creating much more food than even Ron could eat.
--
Albus stared thoughtfully at the fireplace. Dung apparently was not to be found at home. And what would he say to his old friend if he did find him? Molly had made it quite clear that there was more to Severus' disappearance than the young man merely straying accidently. Arthur and Tonks had both confirmed that the young Potions Master was not in Ministry hands. Not at the Ministry holding cells nor even, worse, at Azkaban.
The other alternative that came to mind was Voldemort. But that was impossible for so many reasons. Mostly, though, no matter what else might have happened, the old wizard was sure that Dung would never betray anyone of them to the Dark Lord. He had feared that the thief was simply trying to cover up some negligence. But this looked like something planned.
He sighed and with especial reticence threw some floo powder into the hearth, "Alastor Moody!"
"Mornin' Albus!" came a too cheerful reply very shortly.
"Alastor, Mundungus is not telling me the truth. What do you know about it?"
"Snape again? Where is he?"
"Still missing. What do you know?" Albus felt his patience waning.
"Snape went missing, Dung was there but apparently not watching him very closely." He scowled more deeply. "Snape hasn't turned up yet?"
"No. The Drs Granger were most helpful but as of their calls last night no Muggle hospital has had anyone even remotely resembled Severus turn up."
"Well. That's interesting."
"How so, Alastor?"
"For a man who can barely hold his own teacup he seems to be hiding out capably enough."
"I fear not, my friend. Please try to find Dung and convince him to talk to me about this. Severus truly is in danger, I fear."
"Yeah, if he's summoned again he might actually get there. Damn!"