Infinite apologies - it's been almost a month.
Special thanks to teals dear, for pointing out to me, that I'd quite fairly forgotten that I'm writing a story placed in the UK and not the US. I have amended the slip with 'Dollars' and 'Mom', here, and will do it pretty quick with the first two Chapters too.
See this: Recludamut isn't a real HP spell. It is something I made. Recludam is Latin for 'unlock' . He he.
This one's slightly short; I fought Writer's Block for the longest, but still it showed. I hope it is pardoned.
THANKYOU A TON, for all the Reviews, really!
PS. The first part of this Chapter is Hermione's mother's POV. I don't like swapping point of views, but this one was kinda necessary.
three
24th July, 2016
Tuesday
The (Under Construction) Walk-in Closet
Granger Villa
Oh Goodness! What an absolutely adorable boy, Hermione's mother sighed mentally.
Stevenson Paley, as per his promise, had appeared at their doorsteps at precise eight of the morning. Along with his charming looks, he was a person of impeccable etiquettes. Mrs Sarah Granger could so much as envision her daughter's happily married life with this young man.
"Tea?" Her husband beamed a smile at Stevenson.
Stevenson Paley smiled, blushing. Etiquettes!
"Thanks, Mr Granger, I'll help myself."
"Sure son," The older man chuckled. "And just so you know, call me Jonathan. Or better yet, Jon, like my dear lovely wife, here."
Sarah Granger returned her husband's loving smile before resuming her task at hand, dusting the cushioned couches in their about-to-be-arranged walk-in closet. Or, better put, a full fledged room in the name of a closet. It had been Hermione's idea, and Sarah couldn't even interrupt before her husband had begun to cheer.
"So?" Jonathan Granger spoke in a hushed, conspiring whisper as soon as Stevenson Paley was out of earshot. "What do you think?"
"He is an amazing young man!" Sarah exclaimed, her eyes glistening in excitement. "If only Hermione would realise what a bundle of mess that redhead of hers is, I'm sure she'll be able to acknowledge Stevenson."
Jonathan nodded solemnly.
"And I think it's time we asked her to at least meet this man," He slightly narrowed his eyes, conspiratorially, "Because, you never know, maybe she'd get over that scumbag once she meets someone better."
Sarah thrummed with excitement.
"Oh, yes, Jon! Yes! This is a brilliant idea! I'll just have-"
She abruptly stopped as Stevenson made his way back into the almost-closet-turned-room, a bewildered look on his face. He frowned, looking in turns between the two adults. Then, in a snap, his expressions cleared in understanding.
"Oh!" He breathed out, taking a step back, "Pardon me, I suppose I interrupted something private."
It wasn't a question. Sarah glowed in pride. She could definitely see Hermione changing her surname into Paley. And walking down the aisle with this gorgeous person. Goodness!
"That's quite alright, Steve dear, we were-"
"No!" Sarah cut in her husband's clarification, earning an irritated look from him and a confused from Stevenson. She couldn't care less. She had better plans in her head. "It is something urgent, Stevenson darling. And private, of course."
Stevenson frowned, yet nodded.
"Right," He mumbled, "I-I guess I'll just… wait… outside. Yeah?"
Jonathan was positively bristling at his wife for making their guest fumbling and uncomfortable. But, she couldn't care less.
"That seems alright," She nodded with a bright smile. After a - faked - pause of consideration, she called for him, as he'd just twisted on his heels. "I guess taking a walk about the house would be a better idea. You will be assisting us, anyways, so it is rather justified that you take a look around."
Her husband's face was morphing into understanding, and she took the opportunity to shoot a suggestive smile his way. His eyebrows shot up as he got the catch. Then he was fervently nodding.
"Y-yeah. Absolutely," He smiled at Stevenson as the younger man snapped his head to look at Jonathan. "Especially my Study room. We're generating a mini-library in it, and so I guess it would be fair to take up arranging that next."
Sarah grinned gleefully as her husband convinced Stevenson to go off to that particular room. And she was happier by the fact that in spite of twenty four years having been passed by since they'd first gotten together, Jonathan was still as adroit at catching her suggestive drifts as he had been during the days they dated.
The couple watched triumphantly as their guest began ascending the staircase leading up to the Study. Actually, the room had become Hermione's new sanctuary - along with her own room, and their terrace - since past two days.
Sarah's smile turned malicious, soon enough. That Ron Weasley punk was not worth of Hermione's striking intelligence; she would have to accept the fact and move on.
Or else, I have my ways, dearest daughter. Sarah's imagination went back to Stevenson's entwined hands with Hermione.
ooo
Hermione was - if not mad - messed up with worry for Ron. The nutter had gone missing since three fat days - ever since the incident at her house, that late evening - without a trace.
She'd spent hours after hours, this morning, floo calling Ginny, Harry, Bill - at times, Fleur too - Angelina, Padma and, as a last resort, even Minister Shacklebolt. But, to no avail. Ronald Weasley had disappeared from everyone's vicinity. At least, everyone she'd contacted so far.
But, words spread like fire - and such a scandalous snippet would have reached him, even, by now - and she couldn't believe that no one knew of his whereabouts. This course of action, after all, was as plain as seeking strangers in a street and showing them a picture of what - or who - you've been searching for. Unless, well, if that person hadn't specially asked to not provide with any piece. And in this case, Hermione couldn't put it past Ron. Needless to say, she was sorting out special Welcome Back hexes in a corner of her mind, for the next time she would see him.
But, she was tensed. Pretty extremely, if she was being honest. And, though she didn't want to acknowledge it much, she was dreading that Harry - and even possibly Arthur and Molly - might blame his going missing on her. Though Ginny wouldn't, she was sure, she'd never. But the awkward, out of place guilt was crushing her conscience so bad, that she was actually feeling quite restless and tied up for not making any efforts of running around the Diagon Alley and the offices at the Ministry, however useless that might be.
She was more than certain that her parents wouldn't let her slip out, anyhow. And if they caught so much as a whiff of Ron's name, they may lock her down at home and restrict her from returning to her job as well. She'd known them more than enough over the years to interpret as much.
And so, now she sat fidgeting with her wand - clad in a purple 'all i care about is food and avoiding people' printed tank top, and decent, mid-thigh denim shorts - beside the extinguished fireplace. This while, she did cast a Cooling Charm. Though her bush of hair was haphazardly knotted at the base of her neck - stabbed with an out-of-use quill and a Muggle pen, yet, tendrils insisted on bouncing out.
She sighed, flicking her wand and conjuring her favourite Jane Austen masterpiece, Emma, from the clumsy, roof-high book-stacks. She had merely flipped it to the folded - bookmarked - page number 47, when there was a tentative knock at the door.
Hermione growled in irritation. It was hardly past ten in the morning, and she had been stuffed with toast and scrambled eggs at around seven o'clock. Weren't her parents supposed to be busy with arranging the house? How could a person bother so much about eating? contrary to what her shirt said, Hermione wasn't a foodie and it wasn't a hidden fact. But her mother was-
"Excuse me?"
She jumped, and just held back a yelp of surprise. Because, the voice coming from the other side of the door was neither her Mum's nor Dad's. But - it felt oddly familiar. She straightened her spine, yet didn't attempt to deter from her cross-legged sitting position with her back to the empty cabinets.
"Yes?" She asked, firmly.
There was shuffling, and then, "Hey - um - Miss Hermione Granger?"
Aha! Hermione immediately recognized the voice as their new neighbor's. She took in a deep, courage-building breath. She did need to talk to the man, yes, about her girlfriend from last night and her own - alas disappeared - boyfriend.
She got up, placing Emma back on the stack sitting a few feet away from where she was huddled up, she walked to the door with her wand poised.
"Recludamut," She whispered inconspicuously to the door, and stood back.
"Mister Paley?" She enquired in an icily professional tone.
"Um - yeah?"
The guy seemed unnaturally nervous. Hermione's heart soared up as she considered the prospect of him willing to discuss about the presence of someone in his life which wouldn't allow him to get more-than-acquainted with Hermione. She couldn't get herself to think of the word 'marriage', you see.
"The door isn't locked, just so you know."
There was a sigh of 'Oh', and she rushed back to kneel next to the bundles of books. The latch twisted, and the door was flung open. Collecting her Gryffindor bravery - and praying to Godric to hand her over some borrowed manipulation skills from his old friend Salazar - she put a business-like smile at her face and looked up at…
…a very smugly smirking Draco Malfoy.
She blinked twice before everything went black.
ooo
The first thing she knew, was the hammer hitting her head repeatedly.
Then there was light. A lot of bright, blinding white light. She tried and succeeded in clenching her eyes tighter.
Then there were voices. Oddly familiar.
"No. No, no, no. You don't Mister!" Padma.
It had appeared groggy, but the bite in the tone gave away.
"Uh, yes, she's right, actually," A heavy male voice, "You must try again." Ah. Minister Shacklebolt.
A frustrated groan followed.
"Do I seem so much foolish to you?" A male - higher pitched than Shacklebolt. "I swear I didn't do anything. She looked, blinked, swayed and passed out!" Draco frigging Malfoy.
"Hey!" A shrill female. "I - I guess she's waking. Mister Malfoy, off you go. Privacy from you too, Minister. Oh no, you stay back, Padma."
Hermione's brain felt as if ready to fling out of her skull. This couldn't possibly be…
"Thanks, Romilda." Padma sighed.
And - hopes squashed. Hermione took not more than three seconds to realose that she was at St Mungo's and being treated by Healer Romilda Vane.
"Hermione?"
Hermione grunted, trying to open her eyes. Surprisingly, the room was extremely dimly lit. She easily opened her eyes to find a professional looking Romilda and nervously smiling Padma, leaning over her bed.
"Thank Heavens, you're alright 'Mione!" Padma breathed, taking Hermione's hand.
Meekly, Hermione smiled.
"Do you feel oriented enough to sit up, dear?" Romilda was questioning her.
She nodded, just as terribly as she'd smiled.
Waving her wand, Healer Vane tilted the upper half of the bed to bring Hermione into a sitting position. Then she shifted her attention to going through the several vials of potions placed on the tray levitated at Hermione's side.
"Okay," Padma sat on a chair next to the bed, her face grave. "Tell me what happened. Exactly what did Malfoy do?"
Hermione gulped. A fit nausea threatened to make a comeback. Malfoy. She'd almost forgotten about the little incident, taking it to be an imagination of her paranoid brain as she worried for Ron. But, apparently, it wasn't.
"Nothing, actually," She murmured. "He was there… when… when he shouldn't have been. It was a neighbor's voice, and then, just suddenly, Malfoy walked into the room. I was - Padma I was horrified…"
Padma shook her head, a grimace on her face. "They didn't tell you, did they? Not even Harry?"
What? "No… I guess?"
"Hermione," Padma looked over at a sympathetic Romilda Vane before continuing. "You do know about Malfoy's trial, right?"
Hermione nodded. Of course she did. He, along with Lucius and Narcissa, was pardoned from Azkaban with merely an affordable fine and a year of community services. Cute. Not.
"Right. So… As a part of those community services which he has to do, Draco has been… Oh!" She cut off, abruptly, huffing an agitated breath. "I'm not an Auror, it really isn't my news to reveal. It's a wonder they don't have a secrecy charm placed on it." She sighed again. She was catching the habit, it seemed. "Head Auror Dawlish wouldn't be too thrilled if I told you. Sorry, darling. But… You'd see Harry later today, yeah?"
Numbly, Hermione nodded as Romilda Vane began pouring potions after potions into her mouth.
Soon after, she passed out again.
Did you see the twist coming? Do you like it?
PLEASE Review.
xoxo
Aishwarya.
ooo TO BE CONTINUED ooo