A/N: This is my first fanfic and I must say that I am quite nervous to post it. I hope that you enjoy reading it. It is set after the Battle of Hogwarts and although I have tried to stay true to the events in the original stories, I have changed some minor details in order to suit this story. The main one being that Lavender did not die from Greyback's attack. It's rated M as there is some violence, strong language, and (because no M rated piece would be complete without it) smut. I hope to upload new chapters for you to enjoy regularly. I do try and edit extensively but if an error slips by, please forgive me! I look forward to your reviews! Happy reading!

Chapter 1

Hermione gazed, unfocused, in the mirror. A small sigh escaped her lips as she closed her eyes and gathered her thoughts. She knew that she shouldn't be so unenthused about attending the ball; it was a charity event after all. Yet part of her was dreading the inevitable camera flashes and intrusive magazine articles that would follow her attendance. Seven years had passed since that fateful day when Voldemort had been defeated by Harry's hand. Seven years in which she had finished her schooling and started a career at the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Through hard work and inter departmental co-operation she had achieved a great deal; yet Witch Weekly was still only interested in deplorably superficial aspects of her life: Who is she dating? Is she having an affair with Ron? What is she wearing? Has she been using new, experimental sliming charms? It was insufferable. Gilderoy Lockhart had been correct when he told Harry that fame was a fickle friend.

"Hermione, are you ready yet?" Ginny's voice floated in from the lounge.

"I'll be out in a minute, Gin. Just finishing up with my hair." she replied, setting down her hair straightener. Thank Merlin for muggle inventions such as these. The thought of having to coat her hair with Sleekeazy every time she went to a ball had driven her to invest in one. Living in muggle London had its perks- especially when it came to using electrical devices. Although their reliability during times she used magic was never dependable. She moved to the lounge and gave Ginny a small what do you think gesture.

"You look lovely, Hermione." Ginny smiled. The off-the-shoulder, red dress did make Hermione feel rather devilish and sultry. Rita Skeeter would, most likely, still call her "plain". Along with "heart-breaker" Hermione suspected it was one of the few adjectives the witch knew.

"I do wish you would wear something with short sleeves for a change, though. You have such lovely arms."

Hermione scoffed. "And give the gossip rags an opportunity to write some fluff about how I'm displaying my lovely reminder of Bellatrix for attention? Not a chance, Ginny."

"You really shouldn't let those rags get to you."

"We both know that is easier said than done. Besides, long sleeves or not, I do think this dress makes me look good." She smiled whilst adjusting the slim fitting dress.

Ginny smiled and raised her eyebrows. Hermione answered the gesture by scrunching up her nose. Both witches burst into laughter.

"You'll be strutting around like Malfoy did in school if you don't watch that ego." Ginny teased. They were distracted from their conversation by the small ring alerting her that someone was coming in through the fire place. Ginny glanced at the clock on the wall.

"That will be Harry, coming to escort us to the soiree." Ginny said in an exaggerated upper class accent.

"Ladies, you look lovely." Harry said with a smile, stepping out of the fireplace and brushing some dust off his dress robes. Moving forward, he offered them each a hand which they both accepted with a small curtsey.

"Splendid" he said, mimicking Ginny's earlier accent. "Shall we enter the dragon's den, ladies?"

Hermione was glad that Harry, too, seemed to be somewhat unenthused about the night ahead.

Hermione returned to their empty table from the dance floor. The others in her party still socialised and danced. The night had been quite enjoyable so far, her arrival at the event notwithstanding. She had danced with Neville for several songs in celebration of his recent appointment as Herbology professor at Hogwarts. He had worked hard since the Battle to achieve the post and Hermione had felt genuine warmth and excitement for Neville when she read the owl he sent her earlier in the week announcing his appointment to the post. She had immediately owled her congratulations and demanded a celebratory dance on the eve of the charity ball. Ever the gentleman, Neville had approached her earlier in the evening and extended a hand whilst he bowed, inviting her to the dance floor.

The silly jig they had done to one of the songs had turned her memory from the overwhelming attention she had received upon arrival. She had been rendered temporarily blind from camera flashes when she greeted Ron with a hug in the entrance area. She worried about the stories that would emerge from that image. Perhaps a piece on how she was attempting to break up Ron's marriage to Lavender. It was laughable really; they hadn't been together for six years, yet people still clung to the notion that they were romantically involved. When one of these stories was published she always felt for them, especially Lavender. Greyback's attack during the Battle of Hogwarts had left her scarred, much in the same manner as Bill had been. Although she never said it, Hermione knew that she hated it when those gossip rags published a picture of her. Lavender had matured since her time at Hogwarts and Hermione had grown to like her. She didn't appreciate being a source of discomfort for Lavender, regardless if it was unintended or not.

She glanced around the room. Very few of those in attendance remained seated. Most were taking advantage of the Weird Sisters playing a rare reunion concert for the event. Her eyes came to rest on a wizard who sat a few tables away. Draco Malfoy turned to see Hermione looking at him and gave her one of his trademark sneers. Although they had to be civil towards each other when their departments worked together, she would never consider them on friendly terms. His beliefs about blood supremacy had faded after the war but Hermione suspected that he still held a grudge about the fact that his marks were constantly second to hers during school. Her punching him in the face during their third year at Hogwarts was, most likely, also a contributing factor to his attitude.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes as she turned to face the wizard who had just slid into the chair next to her. She had expected to see Harry or Ron but instead she was greeted by a vaguely familiar photographer from Witch Weekly. Her facial expression soured.

"How did you get in here?" she sneered at him.

"Come now Miss Granger, we can all be friends here. You certainly look like you might want to be more than friends with someone in that dress. Perhaps tonight is the night that you are successful in stealing Mr Weasley away from his poor wife."

Hermione stiffened at his words, feeling an immediate surge of anger towards him.

"Let's get some things straight." she spat at him. "First, I would never do anything to try and ruin Ron's relationship with his wife. They are both dear friends of mine and I am glad that they are happy together." Her hands began to clench into fists as she spoke. "Secondly, Lavender is not some poor woman. She has been through a great deal since the Battle of Hogwarts and has come through it for the better. She has more spine than you will ever have, you snivelling twat!"

The photographer gave a small sneer at her insult but did not move.

"So it's not Weasley then. Perhaps Potter is to be added to your list of conquests?"

Hermione slammed her fists into the table as she stood to leave. She didn't trust herself to stay near the wizard anymore. She shoved his chair as she pushed past him towards the exit. Her outburst would make it into the rag he worked for but she was just too angry to care. Once outside she turned down an alley to put some distance between her and the ball. The alley she turned down was mercifully quiet and free from the prying eyes of reporters and bystanders alike. She leaned against the stone wall and covered her face with her hands. A deep sigh escaped her lips. In the quiet she began to regret her reaction to the photographer's bait. Her words were true but she knew she shouldn't have shown so much anger. Her temper had gotten the better of her.

It's not fair! she thought to herself. She had given so much of her childhood to saving people like that wizard and how did they thank her? By publishing intrusive fluff and lies about her life. She was an intelligent witch who worked hard to make the wizarding world a better place, yet these rags reduced her to nothing but her body; some floozy bint who wanted to stay in the papers. What made it worse was that there were people who actually believed what was written about her. She still remembered how Molly had been off with her after Rita Skeeter published articles on her and Harry's alleged romance during the Triwizard Tournament.

She was distracted from her thoughts by the sound of footsteps moving towards her in the alley and waited for the flash of a camera or murmured words of someone claiming to be a fan. When neither came she stood up from her position against the wall and turned towards the footsteps. Two hooded figures approached her from the other side of the alley. She made a motion towards her wand and realised she had left it with her bag when she stormed away from the photographer. Shit.

One of the figures quickly withdrew his wand and pointed it at Hermione, casting a spell in a swift movement. Before Hermione could react she felt the spell hit her and she stumbled back, tripping and falling to the ground. She heard her head crack against the ground, pain radiating from the area of impact. Within seconds of the impact everything went black.