DISCLAIMER: All the Characters are rightfully owned by the mighty JK Rowling. The basic storyline - the brilliant world of magic, Hogwarts, the beauty of it all that enchants us - is all JK's property. I only own the plot to this particular thing called 'Chimerical', and I happen to have named Hermione's parents by my own brush of imagination. Rest, the Characters, along with their names, houses and grades at the OWLs, belong to JK. Though, my heart happens to be a property of Tom Felton, but that is besides the point.

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21st July, 2001

Saturday

Granger Villa

"Hermione," Her frantic ramblings were cut short by her father's deep, grave warning. "You must realise that I and your mother have a better understanding of the real world. You must trust us enough to know that we would decide only the best for you, child."

Hermione clicked her tongue, shaking her head.

"Yes, Dad, I do know that, but-"

"No, sweetheart," Her mother looked at her with sympathy laden eyes, and a tinge of guilt. "This discussion is better off done for now. It is late, anyways, and you're leaving for to see your friend early tomorrow. Just please rest."

Setting her jaw, Hermione crossed her arms and looked away. With her posture stiff in arrogance, she gave a single, curt nod to her parents.

"Right," Her eyes flicked over to the wall clock above the door her parents stood next to. "It's past ten, I'd like to retire. Good night."

Without so much as a glance at her, Hermione's father padded out of her room. Her mother gave out a resigned sigh, following her husband's trail with her eyes. Then she looked back at her daughter.

Hermione's eyes had glazed. Sure she didn't want to - and certainly did not approve of it - but she felt like crying. Not that she was in deep grief. Okay, maybe she was. But her brimming eyes were the doing of uninhibited frustration and that alienated feeling of helplessness. She dragged on air through her mouth, blinking back the traitorous tears, as she noticed her mother's gaze of absolute pity directed at her. Pity. She certainly could cry buckets over being pitied at.

"Hermione dear-"

She held up her palm to stop her mother's arguments. She wasn't willing to listen to any of her explanations. Her mother had most perfectly supported her father in his opinion, and she actually did share his opinion - was all that mattered to Hermione. Because, in the end, any sort of apologies or clarifications were not going to amend the verdict they had spelled out to her. That had, after all, been the entire point behind the heated quarrel she'd been having with the so-called 'experienced' parents of hers, who'd 'never do a thing against her welfare'.

She sighed. "Good night, Mum. I've to be up early tomorrow."

"For whatever it's worth, Hermione," Her mother sniffed, "I truly am sorry about this entire charade."

Hermione coughed out a mirthless, cynical laugh.

"Of course, Mum," She sneered, exploding with frustration, "and so am I."

Screwing her eyes shut, her mother exhaled in pained expressions. For the tiniest of moments, Hermione felt guilt knocking at her guts. But the moment was gone as soon as she saw her mother shaking her head in disapproval at her, disappointment in her. She clenched her fists. Right.

"Good night, 'Mione," Her mother breathed before stalking out and shutting the door softly after her.

Huffing, Hermione grasped fistful of her hair, ready to rip them apart if that could allow her peace. But she knew better - nothing could. Except, of course, her parents' changed decision, which was as much possible as them learning magic.

Stomping off to her bed, she slumped gracelessly into the plush mattress - hands and legs sprawled like that of a dead eagle. After the torturous events today, tomorrow she was meeting Harry. Life can not possibly be better, she thought sarcastically.

Today had been an extremely important day. To her, that is. Technically, her future life was to be decided - which was now done, however unpleasant the outcome might be to her - by her parents. Clearly stating, her parents were to meet Ronald Weasley as their to-be son-in-law, today. Hermione couldn't actually blame it all on Ron, but he definitely had some doing in disgusting them with the very prospect. By the time her father was over with his humiliation of Ron, he was the brightest of reds she'd ever seen him turn, in the entire time of knowing him.

Whimpering at that sickening feeling of helplessness, Hermione thought of how beautiful a conversation with Ginny could have been at the moment. But none was likely to be made for two very obvious reasons - one, no magical method(owl, or floo call) was allowed from her Muggle surroundings, and two, unlike Harry, Ginny had flat out refused to accept and use a cellphone for the purpose of conversing with Hermione whenever she was at her parents'.

Hermione let her eyes slide shut as she shifted to a more decent sleeping position on her bed, under her duvet. Before the mighty dreamless sleep occupied her, Hermione's last thoughts were about Ginny's reaction when she would tell her that the redhead's plans of calling Hermione SIL - a stupid, Ginny-made slang for 'sister-in-law' - had been ruthlessly slashed down by Hermione's parents…and partially by her own foolish ginger brother!

ooo

The - now - unfamiliar shrill of her Muggle alarm clock almost threw Hermione out of her bed. Collecting her senses, she swiftly quitened the damned device and pulled up the partly fallen duvet back on the bed. Yawning, she stood up and stretched. Her eyes immediately fell on the wall clock that faced her bed.

8.02

Oh, no! Her breakfast with Harry was due half past eight. She tutted at her foolishness for not having rechecked the alarm the previous night. But then, she had a lot on her mind to remember such timid, silly details.

Rushing off to her attached washroom, she grabbed her wand on the way - frantically tired of abiding by the rules prohibiting use of magic in Muggle surroundings. And then, her parents were the only ones who could learn about her using magic in her bathroom, and they did not hate her enough to hand over to the Ministry. Moreover, they would only do 'the best for her', as her father had stated.

Rolling her eyes, she cast a Scourgify on her teeth, waving her wand at the faucet to begin the shower and tapping the wand at her shoulder to vanish her clothes.

Ten minutes into the shower, and Hermione was panicking with the worry of running late to her breakfast. Hurrying out, she casted drying charms over herself - major ones, with smoothing tendencies(the ones used on wet clothing), over her hair - and rushed over to the attached closet in the tiled room.

Grabbing a flannel, sleeveless beige shirt and navy slacks, she magicked them on herself. Leaving out the rest unnecessary aspects of dressing up, she plopped on a pair of green canvass shoes and darted out of the confines of her moist, steaming bathroom.

Passing through her bedroom, she hurriedly collected her wristwatch and cellphone as she advanced downstairs.

"I'm leaving, Mum, Dad!" She yelled out in the living room, certain that her voice would reach their respective locations in the kitchen and their bedroom.

"Right, dear," Her mother's voice called back from the kitchen, "Take care and keep an eye in your phone, in case we need to contact you."

Grimacing at her mother's patronizing tone, Hermione extracted her travelling overcoat from the coat closet.

"Bye, Mum," She called out, realising that her father must have been sleeping in till late, it being a day off.

Stepping out, she clicked the door shut after her. Then she shrugged on her white, leather overcoat. It was pretty humid at the time in London, and she would surely have gone without the heavy garment if it wasn't for the scorching sun shining down at the country. She slipped her wand into an inner pocket of her coat and walked out of her house's fenced boundaries.

Once out, she began looking around for taxies. It was rather frustrating - if not humiliating - for her to be searching for a cab as means of transport, when she could very well apparate without second thought. She decided that she couldn't wait for her vacation at home to end. Just a single week out of the three remained, as it was.

Finally spotting one of the vehicles she was looking for, she called it over and slipped in, providing its driver with the name of the coffee shop she was to reach.

As the car pulled out of her street, she relaxed back against the leather seat - mentally preparing herself for the news she was to spill over to Harry.

ooo

Harry was, surprisingly, waiting for her when she stepped out of the taxi before Cups & Cakes. Smiling at the aged cab driver as he thanked her for the tip, Hermione hopped the tiny flight of stairs up to the coffee shop with the dark haired wizard.

"Good morning," Harry beamed a smile at her, as he held the glass doors open for her in proper chivalry.

She smiled back.

"Good morning, Harry."

Getting in, he helped her with removal of her coat and undid his own scarf, taking off the cowboy hat he'd very gracefully tipped over his head.

A Waiter was by their side in no time, escorting the two to a very comfortable looking corner booth, adjacent to the glass partition - excuse for a wall - of the place. Hermione slid into the wall-mounted couch, while Harry into the opposite chair.

Filling the Waiter with an order of a cappuccino for each of them, and a garlic bread serving with cheese dip for himself and strawberry pancakes for Hermione, Harry finally focussed on his best friend.

"Long time, Hermione," He chuckled.

Hermione smiled.

"Two weeks, Harry," She sighed, "Guess I'm already missing the Ministry Elevators."

Harry giggled louder. "Dunno 'bout the elevators," He shrugged, "but your dear team of strong willed elves joining your SPEW cause are definitely missing you."

"Oh dear," Hermione gasped, "I nearly forgot about those poor things!" She groaned, "And what about my Magical Creatures office? Any news from Angelina?" She asked, referring to the Care of Magical Creatures Department's Head, and George Weasley's wife.

Harry shook his head. "None in my knowledge. She isn't too much in work, these days. Her pregnancy taking a toll or something," Harry winced at the last part.

Hermione laughed. "Oh come on, Harry, you wouldn't understand even if you tried to. It is a hell lot of hormonal nuisance to deal with," She smiled at her best friend's blush, "It's not that Kingsley would charge her or anything, anyway. She worked well and efficient through the first six months - he should grant her ease and mange the next three, something."

Harry hummed, prepared to speak, when another waiter brought their breakfast. Grabbing her cappuccino, Hermione took a generous gulp - moaning in pleasure as her eyes shut. She opened them to Harry's chuckles.

"How long have you not taken a cappuccino, Mione?" Harry teased, well aware of Hermione's obsession with the drink.

Hermione blushed. "Three days," she mumbled, keeping her glass back and pulling her pancakes' plate towards herself.

Harry snorted. "I don't believe this," He clicked his tongue, eyes narrowed in challenge, "You couldn't have gone two consecutive days without a drink. Well, did you?"

Hermione huffed, pursing her lips in mock annoyance. "Okay, fine, I didn't. I had it yesterday. So?"

Instead of replying, Harry burst out laughing.

"You're…" He choked between his guffaws, "...impossible… Hermione."

Hermione tried to put on her best annoyed mask, but a smile nevertheless flitted across her face at her best friend's teary eyes. "Oh yes, I am, thank you."

Harry finally coughed a few ending laughs, and cleared his throat, taking a sip from his own cappuccino for good measure.

"How's Ginny?" Hermione asked, her brain catching back on events of the previous days.

Harry blushed, taking a bite out of his cheese coated bread stick.

"Jhe's jhood," He spoke between the bites, and Hermione felt nostalgia of her moments with him and Ron at meals in the Great Hall, hit her hard. "I met her four days back, at the Burrow, of course. She's expecting a promotion, she says."

Hermione's brows shot up as she chewed at her pancake. Unlike Harry, she patiently cleared her mouth before voicing her astonishment out. "A promotion? You have promotions in Quidditch teams? Like what - a captain, or something?"

Harry squinted at her for a brief second before clicking his tongue. "Or something," Hermione rolled her eyes at the cliché. "She's a Chaser currently, and might be becoming a Seeker if promoted."

Hermione frowned deeply, nodding slowly as she processed the heavy information. Not so heavy, alright. But it was Quidditch, and every damn thing about the wonder sport had always turned out heavy for her.

Then her eyes brightened.

"Okay, I got it!" She spoke excitedly, "This means that she'd been playing at Angelina's place up till now, and she's going to play at yours if she were promoted?"

Harry gave her an impressed look. "Brilliant, 'Mione. That's right," He smiled softly at her.

Not thinking before speaking, she abruptly spat out her next question, immediately biting her tongue later. "And what is Ron's place in his team, again?"

Harry's lips curved into a knwong smirk. But,instead of explaining, he took on to teasing.

"Tell me what, Hermione, you've never been known for giving half of an ear to the Quidditch talks back at school. What's gotten you so badly curious?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. "Exactly. I was merely curious. Not interested, or something."

Harry laughed, as she furiously stabbed at the next bite of her pancake. They ate in silence for a few minutes, with occasional glances outside of the glass partition. She was left with roughly three bites and less than half of her cappuccino when Harry finally broke the ice.

"So," He sighed, grinning mischievously the next instant, "How long till the Wedding Bells?"

Hermione's insides twisted. A knot formed in her throat.

"No, Harry," She croaked out through a terribly constricted throat.

Harry frowned. "No? What no, 'Mione?"

Hermione took in a deep calming breath.

"My parents very clearly disapproved of my association with Ronald Weasley for marriage, yesterday, soon after meeting him at his visit to my home."

Harry's jaw was impossibly drooping and eyes were almost as round as the spectacles shielding them.

"What is that supposed to mean?" He asked in a dangerously low tone, spelling each word out to her.

"It means that they won't give me their consent. I can't marry him, Harry," Her voice cracked and his breath hitched, "I can't be with him. I can't be with… Ron," She mumbled his name softly to herself, letting one amongst many of the held back tears since last night, trail down her cheek.

Wordlessly, Harry's hand came over the table to clutch hers reassuringly. His tone brimmed with incredulity when he spoke.

"But-but why - 'Mione - how," He stammered, shaken to core at the revelation, "How can they do this to you? Y-you are no… House-elf for them to order about! You're a person with your own likes and dislikes, own decision making skills. Why would they do this, Hermione?"

Hermione inhaled a shuddering breath, Harry's hand instantly increasing pressure on hers.

"They-they do not like him," Harry gasped, she smiled sadly up at him, "They think he's an irresponsible person, who'd not be able to take care of me and lead me through a happily married life," She sighed, Harry's hand slackening its grip due to his shock, "They feel that I'm a very intelligent, able woman, and he's not of any match to my mental capacity. They want me to spend my life with someone of better wits, and possibly, better looks, even."

Harry was openly scowling when she finished. "This is downright barbaric, 'Mione," His voice hadn't left it's incredulous note, "They cannot bloody dictate their decisions over you! You're an adult and plus in age, both by the Wizarding as well as the Muggle Law."

Hermione nodded, glumly. "I know all of that, Harry, but mum and dad are too much convinced about Ron being inappropriate for me. Over that, they went on to say that whatever they would be deciding, would be for my own good." She laughed bitterly, "I mean, look at the sodding irony - they will decide for me, and it would be the best for me. I mean, just - woah!" She threw her arms up in exasperation.

Harry swiftly glanced around, clearly understanding her raging anger. Beckoning over to a Waiter, he dropped off required Pounds on the table, and grabbed Hermione's elbow.

"Let's leave, come on."

Without a word, she got up and followed him to the coat hooks next to the main entrance to the place. Silently, she slipped into her overcoat as Harry tied up his scarf and placed the hat back over his head. They exited the place, then.

Walking by Harry's side, down the pavement, Hermione kept a vigilant eye on the passing vehicles for a taxi. Harry noticed.

"I can walk you home, 'Mione," He offered, his voice many octaves down due to the gloom settling into his chest by the news Hermione had broken over.

She shook her head. "Wouldn't want to meet my parents, Mister Potter," She retorted sarcastically - bitterly.

Harry sighed. "Don't give up just yet, Hermione. Talk to them. I'm sure something would figure out. They're your parents, after all; they'd eventually have to understand where your happiness lies."

"I thought the same, Harry," Hermione sniffed. "But after yesterday - I'm no longer sure."

Harry nodded, reluctantly understanding his bestfriend's trouble.

"But really," She spoke agin, sounding more assured and the slightest bit of amused, "you should not walk me home."

At this, Harry's brows rose. "No? Why?"

She chuckled lighlty. "My parents aren't ordinary Muggles, Harry. They are a witch's parents. They know all about Voldemort and the war and… you." She paused for emphasis, and chuckled again when recognition settled over his features. "They'd lock you up and pester you with questions about how does it feel to be the Ultimate War Hero."

He grinned smugly. "Oh, that I am."

Hermione rolled her eyes and smacked his head upside "No need to be so crazily smug about it," She hissed, "Not around me, at least."

He chuckled, then ceased. His brain leapt back in time, immediately, resting over a similar moment in their Sixth Year, when he'd gone smug about being the Chosen One, and Hermione had hit him. He smiled fondly at the memory, turning to look over the one person who'd been by his side for all of the years since he crossed the threshold of a particular Wizarding school in Scotland. Had not crossed the threshold, even.

Hermione turned her head to look at Harry, a scolding at the tip of her tongue at his smugness. But, in place of his earlier boastful grin, she found an affection smile directed at her. She smiled back.

Silently, he reached over and wrapped an arm over her shoulders, bringing her to his side.

"All will be okay in no time, 'Mione, just remember that I love you," He said, before pressing a kiss over her head.

Hermione's eyes brimmed again.

"Oh Harry," She sighed, draping an arm about his waist, feeling him mold into the role of the elder brother, she never had. "I love you, too."

They walked up to close proximity of her locality's block, and then separated to their own paths with a final parting hug and a meaningful 'see you soon'.

Please Review if you read.

xoxo

Aishwarya.

ooo TO BE CONTINUED ooo