A/N: I own nothing besides an over-active imagination.

Hello! Welcome to my first fanfiction. Here's a bit of info on the story and the direction I will be taking.

We join our Golden Girl Hermione Granger 2 years after the end of the Second Wizarding War. This story will ignore the DH Epilogue, but that's all. All character deaths and relationships throughout the books remain the same. No Ron-Bashing in this Dramione. Some of you love it, others hate it. I am personally indifferent as long as the writing is well done, but I digress. I've rating this story M for some smut in later chapters.

If you want to chat, I've started a tumblr Septum5empra. Come say hi!

Hunting Hermione

Convenient. Fitting in well with a person's needs, activities, and plans. Convenient. Involving little trouble or effort. Convenient. Occurring in a place or time that is useful. Godric! She was going to hex the next person she heard refer to something as convenient!

"Miss Granger! Miss Granger!" the young raven-haired witch screeched while scurrying across the marble stone floors of the Ministry. Her too-high heels clicking incessantly as Hermione attempted to outmaneuver her new boisterous shadow for the third time that day. Merlin! Hermione had nothing personal against this witch, she almost applauded her persistence, but she needed to learn. Hermione and the press did not go well together. She knew that hiding from reporters was far from courageous. But the last time she confronted these questions head-on, Ginny had to intervene and drag Hermione away before she assaulted the woman. The incident was front-page news for The Daily Prophet the next morning and seemed to only fan the flames of desire to interview her.

As she bobbed and weaved her way through the next wave of people coming in off the lifts, Hermione resigned herself to the fact that she could use some lessons in dealing with the press, without resulting to brash Gryffindor-ish confrontations. Perhapse she should do some research to see if there was anything she might be able to use as leverage to 'persuade" the witch to leave her be. Hermione hid a smirk, wondering if this reporter, like her mentor Rita Skeeter, was an Animagus, but quickly shook the idea from her mind. Seeking refuge behind the nearest available column, she scolded herself for the feeling of satisfaction the image of Skeeter in her jar triggered within her. But Skeeter did have that one coming.

Drawing a deep breath, she listened to the witch's voice and the click click clicking of her heels move away from her hiding spot, and she allowed her shoulders to slump somewhat against the column, the coolness of it calming her nerves and helping to slow her racing heartbeat. This was not her week. She hoped that she could immerse herself in her work. A schedule of early mornings and long nights in her office keeping the vultures at bay, but a girl needed to eat! She even started taking her breaks at odd times, hoping to evade reporters and photographers, but that witch seemed to have no life outside of trying to invade Hermione's.

Although pleased with her successful escape, Hermione still couldn't muster a genuine smile. She started practicing in the mirror at home when Ginny wasn't around; trying on different smiles like Ginny tried on shoes. People in her office had taken notice, not that they didn't understand, she was going through a breakup. The head of her departmentseemed sincerely sympathetic upon hearing the news, despite however misguided...

3 DAYS PRIOR:

"Oh Hermione dear," the old witch tutted. "What are you doing here today? I've just found out. That Ron is a fool! But deary, you go on home. Take some time for yourself. You look dreadful. The work will be here when you get back."

Hermione had insisted she was fine. Insisted she could work. Needed to work, but this witch would understand none of it. Evidently, she had picked up the same ridiculous version of the story as everyone else Hermione intended on avoiding today.

Truly, can't people mind their own business, Hermione thought. She knew the work would still be there, who else was going to work faithfully to legitimize S.P.E.W. in the eyes of the wizarding world?! She needed somewhere to be. Needed to immerse herself in the comforting routine she had created. What would she do at home with time off? There was no routine at home, not anymore anyway. She had no desire to go home to an empty flat. Hermione conceded to taking the day off after she was able to get her current research and proposals in order in her office. She would take them home and work on them there. HA! Take that!

As she muttered a quick thank you to her boss and headed to her office, she thanked Merlin it was Friday. That meant Ginny would be home early tonight. She arrived at her office and was greeted with an impressive looking owl stoically waiting for her. She gingerly untied the rolled parchment from the owl's leg and went to hand it a treat. The owl neither accepted nor moved an inch. She wasn't sure the owl even breathed. Apparently, the sender expected a reply.

Granger,

We need to talk.

D.M.

Hermione glared at the words on the parchment, written in a beautifully elegant scroll, but they refused to sink in. She was sure she had been standing like this for 10 minutes, having read the same words 50 or more times before there was a knock on her door.

"Miss Granger! As soon as it's convenient, will you come by my office before you leave?"

Convenient. HA!

Hermione pushed the memory away as she removed her body from the column, straightening her back. "Head up, chin up, woman!" she told herself. "Are you or are you not a Gryffindor?! Act like one!" She peaked her head around the column, scanning the crowd for reporters. She still didn't feel very Gryffindorish, despite her internal pep-talk. As she made her way around the column and to the lifts, something registered in her peripheral. Her heart began racing once more. Something that stark white could only have been the flash of a bulb or, or…She silenced her wondering mind, convincing herself that the raven-haired stalker and her photographer must have found someone else's life to ruin today. Finally!

She continued her path to the lifts, mentally running through her agenda for the rest of the workday. She found the organization and repetition of it calming. As she was getting ready to step onto the lift, she found her path blocked by the imposing, yet kind face of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Miss Granger!" he chimed, surprised. "Kinsl-Er- Minister Shacklebolt," Hermione replied, stuttering over the formality. "I'm sorry sir," she immediately apologized, "I'm having an off day."

Shacklebolt chuckled, leaning down and lowing the register of his voice so as not to be heard by those around them. "Hermione, it's quite alright. I know it's best to keep with the awkward formalities here at work, but there's no need to look so glum." He straightened back up, his voice returning to its usual volume, "Ahem, yes, Miss Granger. Just the witch I was looking for, how convenient I run into you…"

Merlin! Hermione was going to have to Conveniently hex the Minister of Magic!