DISCLAIMER: I do not, and will not ever, own any part of the Harry Potter franchise. I make no profits from this, and all recognisable characters, places etc. are the property of J.K.

Hermione sighed as she flopped back onto her sofa. Once again she had returned home late from the ministry, thoroughly exhausted and with more than a little bit of a headache. Having worked her way up through the years, she was now a member of the department for magical law enforcement, and while initially it had been a fresh start (as well as a step on the path the normalcy), the novelty had soon worn off.

After the war, Harry and Ron had gone straight into work and taken up senior positions as Aurors. Hermione though, once she had gone back to finish her last year of school, had decided that she had had enough hunting and fighting to last her a lifetime, and so had decided on a different career path. Law enforcement had sounded like the perfect position – she didn't have to be in the field catching any of the remaining dark wizards, but she could still play a part in bringing them to justice.

She hadn't, however, realised just how much paperwork was involved. Sheet after sheet of forms, files and documents were haphazardly stacked in teetering piles on her desk, and she had long since given up sorting them, which was highly unlike her.

So here she was, alone on her sofa, in the dark, at the ripe old age of 22 and feeling like she was about 60 years old. She had a sore neck and back from leaning over her desk, writer's cramp and perpetually cold feet due to poor circulation – probably because I never get up to do anything, she thought bitterly.

As she sat there, slumped among the numerous cushions, her eyes roamed the familiar room. It was a relatively small living room, as far as livings rooms go, with a Muggle TV in one corner, a fireplace which she used to floo home each night and bookshelves covering the wall next to where she sat. A coffee table in the middle of the room (which was also covered in books) was just in front of the sofa where she threw herself down most evenings. The walls were a deep red colour, as it always reminded Hermione of old libraries, and the exposed floorboards (lovingly restored by her, Ron and Harry a couple of years back) finished off one of her favourite rooms.

Her eyes roamed upwards to the best feature of all – an entire wall above the fireplace, dedicated to photographs of her and her friends. She felt her mood lighten as she looked at the smiling faces of some of her favourite people in the world – Harry and Ron playing wizards chess in Harry's living room; her, Ginny and Luna sat on the sofa the first time Hermione had showed them a Muggle film; her and Neville sat under a gazebo at Harry and Ginny's wedding…

Her parents sat in the garden of her childhood home.

The familiar sting of impending tears brought Hermione out of her head and back to her senses. Shaking her head to stave them off, she stood up and walked from her living room into her kitchen, where she filled and switched on the kettle. Certain things, she mused, just tasted better the Muggle way.

Crookshanks, having followed her in, was mewing loudly. As she filled up his food bowl, Hermione thought about how glad she was to have him around. While she was fiercely independent and enjoyed her own company, she appreciated coming home to a house that wasn't completely empty.

She took her cup of tea upstairs to her room, set it down on her bedside table and started on her nightly routine. As she was getting undressed she thought back over the past few hours – the ones which has given her a headache – and was surprised to note that for once work wasn't the source of her nightly stress…

Sat at her desk surrounded by piles of papers, Hermione was attempting to power through her fatigue and get something done when a knock sounded at her door.

"Come in." she said absentmindedly, not looking up to check who it was. Someone clearing their throat brought her back to earth, and she looked up at the familiar face.

"Oh Harry, it's you. Something wrong?" she asked.

"No, not really, just checking in. How're you?" he asked in reply as he sat down opposite her.

"Oh I'm okay really, I'm just trying to sort everything out and I need go over this case file as well as update the notes on the Humphreys case, oh and I have letters and memos I haven't looked at yet and oh Merlin I can't even find the one from my supervisor he's going to kill me if I don't –"

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

She looked up from her desk only to realise that her hands were thrown up in the air in exasperation. She dropped her arms back down and slouched into the chair defeatedly.

"Look," Harry said, 'why don't you come over to mine and Ginny's later, so we can have a nice dinner and catch up? It's been a while since we've got together."

Hermione sighed. While the offer was the most appealing thing she'd heard all day, she simply had too much work to do, and if she left it another night she'd never get it finished, not in a million years.

"I'm sorry Harry, I really want to come but I just have so much work to do, I'll probably be here until about midnight at this rate."

"Oh, okay. We'll get together another time?" he offered.

She nodded at him, and they slipped into a comfortable silence. After about a minute, Harry spoke up again, but this time his voice was tinged with something that sounded a little like nervous trepidation.

"Erm… Hermione? Have you looked at your… timer, lately?"

Hermione's ears pricked up and she felt herself stiffen. Harry must have noticed because he seemed to draw in a breath and didn't let it go. She looked down at the middle finger of her left hand, at the ring which she chose to wear night and day. She'd worn it every day in fact, since the night before her 21st birthday – the night before the timer went from reading 00:00:00:00 to reading an unknown, and steadily decreasing, number. Underneath the ring, in glowing gold, was a timer counting down to when she would meet her soulmate. 'Ha,' she scoffed internally, 'what a load of rubbish'.

Harry seemed to clock onto what she must have been thinking, as he asked her quickly, "Come on Hermione, aren't you even a tiny bit curious?"

"Of course I'm curious Harry, it's me! I'm curious about everything! That's beside the point though! The point is, is that I refuse to buy into a scheme which strips people of their free will! It's not right!"

"But Hermione, meeting your soulmate is a Good. Thing. Why can't you accept that?!" he asked incredulously, looking at her as if she had just stated that she didn't like breathing. "This ring you chose to wear to, I don't even know, protect yourself from seeing the numbers or whatever? I just don't get it."

She sighed, for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Her sigh quickly turned into a growl though, as she released some of her frustration in the form of anger.

"Fine! I'll take the stupid ring off, but only so you lot will stop hassling me about it every moment of every day!' she exclaimed as she tore the ring off her finger. 'I'm not even going to – oh Merlin…"

Hermione spat her toothpaste out into the sink, rinsed her mouth, stopped to look at the bags under her eyes and then went to go climb into bed. Underneath the covers, she felt comfortable for the first time that day. Just as she felt her eyes getting heavy, she glanced once again at her left hand middle finger, and read the number that encircled the base of it.

02:12:10:14…13…12…11…

She looked at her clock and saw that it was 01:15, and her dread from earlier came back full force.

She had just over 2 days.

A.N: I hope anyone who reads this likes it so far. I've read enough fics to last me a lifetime, so I thought I'd try my hand at writing one for a change! I ADORE Dramione with all my heart, and soulmate AU's always sounded like a lot of fun, so this is my attempt.