Thanks to all for the Reviews, Follows and Favourites. A couple of points that I felt were necessary to be mentioned outside of the story,

- In this story, Hermione's father is a Dentist, but her mother is not. She is a housewife. I wanted her to be home for a pretty long duration a day, and it was comfortable this way.

- Use of Magic in Muggle areas is actually prohibited regardless of the age of the caster. Though, until it is not reported to the MoM, actions cannot be taken due to the fact that it isn't really acknowledged.

- If isn't clear through this Chapter, and wasn't by the previous, refer to this: Ginny is professionally in Quidditch - preferably for the Holyhead Harpies - and Ron is a professional player for Chudley Cannons. He isn't an Auror, no. Hermione's job was detailed out in Chapter One - a Care for Magical Creatures Department worker, and Head of her very own SPEW. Harry would come into light later. Draco - well - he's yet to make an appearance!

That's it, for now. Read on!

two

23rd July, 2001

Monday

Granger Villa

Hermione groaned again. She'd been sulking in her room, snuggled into bed covers with a tub of chocolate fudge sundae that she'd charmed to keep replenishing. Gobbling down another mouthful, she thought about her time at home after meeting up with Harry, yesterday. Well, it wasn't as if there was anything to think about. She'd completely ignored her father's presence all through the day, and had conversed with her mother when it had become extremely unavoidable - during the meals.

Her head had throbbed with confusions and unease, nonetheless. As Harry had so eloquently put, something had to figure out. But it had already been more than twenty four hours since that ill fated night, and absolutely nothing had struck to her. On top of that, Ron was off - hiding his red-mop covered head somewhere, and hadn't once tried to contact her. Her father had threatened him, alright, but wasn't that normal? Of course it was! A parent against his daughter's relationship with a certain someone, was obvious to warn the person to steer clear of her. But had it meant that Ron was actually supposed to hide his arse? Hardly.

There was, in other words, nothing she could do, until she got back to Magical London and her job at the Ministry. There she had some hopes of coming up with something after discussions with the diligent Senior Undersecretary of the Minister, Padma Patil, and her boss cum Ron's sis-in-law, Angelina Weasley. And even before the two of them - Ginny, of course.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. She'd woken up late today, and hadn't left her room since. She'd skipped breakfast, but was dreading lunch. Her mother - given, her father wasn't home due to it being a Monday - was sure to bug her with pleas of invitation to eat something.

Right on the cue, there was a knock at her door.

"Come on, Hermione dear," Her mother called out, "you haven't eaten anything all this while, and it is past one already. Come down, have lunch."

Hermione scowled at the indifference in her mother's tone, despite her words.

"Gimme five minutes, Mum," She called back.

For hours into last night, she had cursed herself for not having installed false memories of her parents being appreciative of Ron, when she'd given them their memories back, some three years ago. The idea didn't strike to her supposedly brilliant brains, back then, you see.

Grumpily, she tore off the covers enveloping her and Evanescod the tub of fudge sundae, her mother was clearly unaware of which. Stepping out of her bed, she ran fingers through her rumpled hair. Sure, they were no longer that infamous bushy-mane, but her curls still carried the potential of getting impossibly tangled.

She walked over to the magically locked door of her room, straightening her cotton pyjama bottoms and the short sleeved tank top she wore. She really, really hated Summers.

Exiting her room, she tiredly stepped down the staircase as her hands mechanically worked on tying her hair into a knot. The house was heavily warm - having not gotten Air Conditioners installed, yet - and her dear idealistic father had assured her about how well they could do without her casting a permanent Cooling Charm all over. She shook her head at the memory. His father's ethics oddly reminded her of how much she resembled him. Although, nothing at all was going to relieve the man of the sin he'd committed by rejecting Ron.

Hermione dashed down the remaining stairs and turned to her right - gracefully crossing the almost fully settled Living Room - and entered the pitch dark Dining Room.

She huffed in annoyance. Her mother had this strange obsession with dark coloured curtains. Frowning, she stepped ahead, all set to reach over and drag the curtains away from the window, to allow some amount of light in. She couldn't even see her own body parts, if she tried. There weren't any electrical lighting systems fixed into this particular room as of yet.

As soon as Hermione placed her foot a step ahead, she - well - stumbled and fell down, face first into the carpet.

After a yelp of surprise, she let out a deep grown, "Mum!"

Her mother's hurried footsteps sounded from the other side of the room - the side next to the kitchen - followed by her panicked voice.

"'Mione! What is it, dear? Where are you?"

Hermione groaned again, pulling herself up on knees and palms. "When exactly do you intend to discard off these packing cartons, Mum?" She asked, furious at the offending cardboard box.

Hermione's mother sighed. "Did you trip, Hermione?"

Hermione gingerly got up, holding onto the dining table for leverage.

"Well, obviously I did!" She all, but, yelled.

The next thing Hermione saw was her mother pulling away curtains from the wall-length window.

She had totally hated the idea, when her father had confessed to her - a month back - that he had spotted a 'beautiful villa' in some colony housing one of his colleagues, and he was intending to buy it. Not that she disliked the thoughts of a new house. It was quite the opposite actually - she had too many nightmarish memories attached to that old place, after all. But mere thoughts of the shifting process had traumatized her. She'd done all in her hands to convince her parents of this being a rather 'silly waste of time', but, none of them has caved.

And then she had been compelled to take a hefty three-weeks-off from her tremendously busy schedule, to assist her parents in the sodding shifting business. One week - minus two days, rather - remained of the duration, and the only fully adjusted rooms of the house totalled up to three - her own and her parents' bedroom and the kitchen. They'd tried to adjust the Living Room to keep up with guests, if any was to come, but rest of the places contained mostly stacked up cardboard boxes and sheet-covered furniture.

"I'm sorry, dear, but you are aware of the haphazard condition of objects around," Her mother chastised, as she helped her settle over a dining chair, while Hermione nurtured her sprained foot. "And you do know that this is to stay for a while. Your dad wouldn't allow use of Magic, and manual labour of three isn't quite a great number."

Hermione felt mad, although she couldn't help but agree that her mother was right.

"And your labour might reduce to two, if this sprain turns out to be fracture of any sort," She replied, sharply.

Her mother simply rolled her eyes, walking back to the kitchen. "It's Cottage Pie and mashed potatoes for lunch," She called back over her shoulder.

Simply twisting in her seat, Hermione turned her plate over and plucked out a pair of cutlery from the crystal Spoon-Holder.

Within seconds, her mother reappeared with a tray of meat in her hands. Sitting into the chair kept exactly opposite to Hermione's, she overturned her own ceramic dish and poured herself a glass of water, while Hermione helped herself with a serving of the food.

"I and your dad had a talk, Hermione," She spoke after sometime.

Hermione looked up from the delicious spoonful of mashed potatoes to her mother's determinately narrowed eyes and pursed lips. She immediately understood that this was going to be something of significance.

"And?" She tentatively questioned, transferring the spoonful into her mouth and biting back a moan of pleasure at the flavours, heeding respect to her mother's serious demeanor. She was simply a great cook!

"We don't know much about the laws of your Wizarding world, but we have decided to overlook them," She explained, making Hermione's brows shoot up. "The Marriage laws, that is."

Hermione, at once, lost her appetite. This wasn't exactly unexpected to her, though. Since the moment her father had told her that he - along with her mother - would 'decide only the best for her', Hermione had dreaded this particular line of thoughts - subconsciously assured of it's ultimate arrival. And, eventually, they had actually reached it.

"So?" She boldly asked, "What are you expecting out of me, here?"

Her mother shook her head, guilt seeping into her gaze. Hermione gulped, in spite of herself.

"Continue with your job and everything," Her mother waved a dismissive hand, "in that Magical world of yours, but about your wedding, well I apologize 'Mione, but we have decided to arrange it for you here, in our world of - what do you call it? - Muddles?"

"Muggles," Hermione corrected, petrified. Her hands vibrated on their own accord as panic set in.

This cannot be actually happening, she told herself, mentally, I'm having a terrible nightmare, because my mind's disturbed by their disapproval of Ron and now, it - my mind, that is - is playing tricks on me by showing me visions of the deadliest of things that I can imagine happening - not that I'm technically terrified of getting bound to a Muggle, or something! Am I? Okay, maybe I am, but-

"Hermione?"

Her mother's voice, along with her fingers' caress of the back of her hand, snapped Hermione out of her thoughts.

"You-you're not s-serious Mum, a-are you?" She asked in a trembling voice, "You c-c-can't be!"

Her mother sighed, pursing her lips. "Oh dear, I am, Hermione. I myself had no idea that such a day would ever come in our life," She sighed again. "You're a very intelligent person, Hermione, and I and your father had trusted you with our hearts for all of the personal decisions to be made in your life. But," She huffed a breath out, "you've deeply disappointed us with that-that Weasley boy, dear. He's certainly no match for your sort of brains, and you'll have to-"

"MUM!" Hermione shrieked, getting up so roughly that her chair toppled back. "Enough, okay? I get it that you two...you-you disapprove of him, but I love Ron! Don't you get the tiny, apparent fact?" She banged both her palms flat on the table, making her mother jump. "And I clearly wasn't paying attention to what was inside his goddamn brain when I fell for him! Don't you bleedin' get it?" She spoke through barred teeth, tears flicking off her eyes in small droplets as she shook in pure wrath.

Her mother sat gaping, frozen by the intensity of her outbreak.

Without waiting for any response or giving her any time to recollect herself, Hermione ran out of the room. She actually ran - to as much extent as she could with the constant stinging in her left ankle - until her disoriented brain finally caught up and an idea came to her. Changing directions, she took the main staircase - instead of the narrow one leading to her room - and climbed, limped, up to her father's haywire, littered Study - that served as a mini-library as well.

Quickly casting Wards over the door to magically seal it shut, Hermione reached over to the extinct fireplace. Dropping abruptly, as pain set in, she pulled herself to sit cross-legged before it, desperately wiping her wet face dry. Then she cleared her throat several times, clearing off the teary husk from her voice box.

"Incendio," She whispered, pointing her wand at the unburnt, freshly purchased coal.

Immediately the place lit up, and Hermione sighed in temporary relief. Then she floo-called Ginny.

She had to wait for a total seven heartbeats before Ginny's brightly smiling face made its way into the smoldering coal.

"Hey there, 'Mione!" Ginny's voice vocalised her cheerful expressions.

Hermione paled. Ginny wasn't aware. Oh, no. That meant Ron hadn't told anyone about it. Suddenly, Hermione was contemplating whether she should be showing concern to where he was if he hadn't shown up at home, or she should be mad at him for leaving the hard task to her.

Contrary to her thoughts, she smiled. "Hi, Ginny. How are you?"

That totally undid the youngest Weasley.

"Oh, just outstanding, Hermione!" She squealed. "I got promoted to a Seeker in the team! Do you know what does that mean?"

Blankly, Hermione arched her eyebrows. "What?"

"It means that I would be playing as a Seeker against the friendly match with Chudley Cannons!" Her voice squeaked with excitement, "Do you see this? Ron would be gobsmacked, oh GOD! I can't bloody wait!"

Hermione tasted bile. Well, this was totally not going as per her expectations. She nodded subtly. "That really sounds fun, Gin."

"It is! But - wait. Would you come to the match, Hermione?" Hermione choked on an inhaled breath. "It's this Saturday. Would you please come? I mean, I know you don't like Quidditch and all, but can you do this for me? PLEASE? And, in-in fact, even Ron would be thrilled-"

"Ginny!" Hermione interrupted her. Her talks were teetering too much around Ron for Hermione to be comfortable. "You know I loathe the sport, don't you?" She asked calmly.

"No," Ginny whined. "Please, Hermione, don't you wanna even meet me?

If you only knew, Gin, Hermione thought. "Of course I want to meet you, Ginny, but-"

"No. No buts and no nos," Ginny admonished.

"My mouth's sealed then, isn't it?" Hermione muttered, feeling nauseated.

"Absolutely," The redhead grinned. "I'd see you this Friday, 'Mione, but if you don't mind, I'll have to leave now. I've got practice in ten minutes, and I'm still lazing at home."

Hermione smiled. Except Arthur and Molly, the entire Weasley clan seemed to share Ron's laziness.

Ron.

Her smile fell.

"Goodbye, Gin," She had hardly spoken as the connection ended and fire took over.

ooo

For hours, Hermione sat next to the fireplace with her head rested on the cupboard next to her and eyes trained on the ceiling. The engulfing heat had involuntarily made her extinguish the fire, but she hadn't been able to concentrate any further, so as to cast a Cooling Charm in the room.

So, she sat sweating for hours - looking into oblivion, trying to figure out some way out of the hole she was pushed into.

And then she fell asleep.

ooo

Her eyes cracked open, and she came to consciousness with a stinging pain in her neck and back. Immediately she recalled floo-calling Ginny and sitting unmoving on floor.

Then she knew she had slept.

She sat up and realised that the pain in her foot had almost subsided. Well, thst was good because that ensured her of it being a mere sprain. But then, she really couldn't understand why she wasn't able to concentrate enough to cast a Healing charm.

Getting up, she looked at the giant windows in the wall to her right. Dark. And it became obvious that she had slept into nightfall.

Clicking her tongue in irritation over herself, Hermione waved her wand at the Study's door and pulled the knob.

And then - her steps faltered. Happy, cheerful voices of her parents fell into her ear. Listening, she realised that they were talking to a third party. She listened harder, squinting into air.

"...and I honestly don't know how much time the Guest Room would have taken, with our daughter's sprained foot and everything." Her mother's voice.

"Ah, yes! I admire your thoughtfulness, dear, and again - we can't thank you enough!" Her father's voice, which she almost choked on.

Her father was never grateful.

She realised she'd lost concentration and had missed some dialogues.

"...tea, next time." A stranger's voice.

Some giggling followed, making Hermione frown.

"That's a brilliant thing to know, because, this promises you're coming back again." Her mother's affection laden voice. What the hell?

"So we'll see you tomorrow morning?" Her father's voice, preceding her mother's giggles.

"No, Jon, I will see him tomorrow. You have work, did you forget?"

A lone chuckle - probably the outsider's - was the response, before the voices muffled. She guessed that party to have moved outside.

Peeping out from the slightly agape door, she looked about. There was no one. Stepping down the stairs with an almost absent limp, she made it into a flawlessly assembled Living Room. She gasped.

And then the main gate to the house opened again and her parents stepped in - engaged in hushed conversation and with a more than glowing smile over their faces. She was right. They were coming back from dropping whosoever their company was.

"Mum, Dad," She called out, stiffly.

Their heads snapped up to look at her, slightly startled. On acknowledging her, their smiles fell. Hermione's stomach clenched. What did she do to deserve this?

"Yes, child?" Her father's crisp voice came back.

"Who helped you with all this?" She said, gesturing vaguely about herself.

A fond smile made it's way to her mother's face as she looked over to Hermione's father.

"A very amazing young man, Stevenson Paley. He's our immediate neighbour, and nephew to one of your father's friends," She told Hermione, eyes still fixed knowingly on her father's cheerful face.

Hermione held back a hiss of distress. They'd already begun with the matchmaking, hadn't they?

ooo

Hermione had taken up to skipping dinner and spending the remainder of the sleepless night under the moonlight, on the terrace. There, she first tended to her foot sprain, with her wand, of course.

She leant over the banister, content momentarily as pleasant, cool gushes of breeze swept over her. She hadn't showered today, and her pyjama bottoms and the tank top from last night was beginning to irk her. Yet she was thankful at the current peace and calm overtaking her.

She had a lot of thinking business to deal with, and peace was all she needed.

Stevenson Paley.

For some reason, Hermione felt like reaching over and strangling the stupid bloke with her naked hands. Okay, the 'some reason' of hers wasn't that difficult to guess, actually.

Rather unconsciously, her gaze darted off to the house that - according to her calculations - was supposed to belong to their immediate neighbour.

And she -

Gasped at the sight.

There was a young man, roughly of her age, standing over the terrace - along with a young woman, snogging her brains out.

She watched as the girl's - her back being to Hermione - waist and hips and bums were mercilessly groped by Stevenson Paley, as he pushed her flush against the railing. Fighting back a gag, Hermione looked away.

Glee flowed into her with such fulfillment, that she almost squeaked in happiness. The supposedly 'eligible bachelor' in her parents' eyes was interested in someone else! Good news, unadulterated.

Hopping the stairs back down, Hermione entered her room in an extremely exuberant mood. At least she'd bought herself some time by getting enlightened one sodding Muggle git's field of interest.

She breathed in a sigh of relief as she lowered herself into bed. It was nearing two in the morning, when her eyes fell on the wall clock above the door. Chuckling at the oddity of time, Hermione clicked the switch on her bedside lamp to turn the lights off. She had, now, to merely wait till she got back to work from this hellish vacation.

Then she fell into a sound, dreamless sleep.

Again, please Review if you read.

xoxo

Aishwarya.

ooo TO BE CONTINUED ooo