Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, or anything else involving the world of Harry Potter. All I claim is the plot. The rest of it belongs to the brilliant J.K. Rowling, whom I must thank, for giving us a whole world besides our own to explore.

Author's Note: I was thinking about this plotline last night and today, and so I had to write it out. However, I'm not entirely sure where I'm going to go with it after this first chapter. So progress will be slow for a while. Just let me know what you think, and we'll see where it goes.

Thanks!
-Mandy

Hermione Granger sighed deeply and stared out the window of the cozy little Muggle café in which she was sitting. Thick rain poured down into the street outside, and the few people daring enough to brave the weather rushed by, holding tightly to their umbrellas. She turned her head back to the table and stared at the mug of coffee she held in her hands. The steaming liquid was untouched, as she had only bought it to assure herself somewhere warm and dry to be able to sit and think. Snuggling further back into the booth, she looked out the window again and fell back into her thoughts.

"What am I going to do?"

This was a question she had asked herself hundreds of times over the past few days. However, today it became more pressing than it had been on any other day. Today, she absolutely had to find an answer to the question and a solution to her problem.

Hermione had nowhere to go. This wasn't because of any mistake on her part, ("Well," she thought bitterly, "it IS my fault that I went off and left everyone. Now see where it's gotten me. I suppose I deserve this.") it was just how things were working out for her now.

---

After the war, Hermione, like all of her friends, had gotten a prestigious job at the Ministry of Magic. For a time, she adored her job. There were many notable things that she was able to accomplish, such as many new house-elf legal regulations, and not least of which was bringing Sirius Black back from the veil. She was also enjoying her social life. At the time, she was living in a lovely flat in London with Ron, whom she was dating. The two of them, along with their black-haired, bespectacled best friend, constantly had parties, balls, and events to attend simply for the purpose of being told "thank-you-for-saving-us-all-and-let-me-prove-it-to-you-by-throwing-the-most-elaborate-celebration-possible." Life for Hermione Granger was fantastic.

However, perfection cannot last, and Hermione's case was no exception. She and Ron began to bicker more, and were never intimate. She would silently thank the heavens that they had never gotten engaged. Also, the fame and popularity that came with being a member of "The Golden Trio" began to wear on her nerves. She could no longer even go to Diagon Alley without being swamped by young witches and wizards asking her, among many other things, for a play-by-play explanation of what it was like to fight the Death Eaters, if she was sure Voldemort was really dead, and, much to her disgust, how good Ron Weasley was in the sack.

She had her best friends to rely on, as always, but she still continued to feel more and more dissatisfied with her life. Harry and Ginny suggested that she take a break, get away for a while. Remus suggested that she pick up a new hobby, or even switch job departments. Sirius's opinion was that she just needed a good shag, which he would be "more than willing to provide."

The discontent boiled over on the day that Hermione was offered a new position at the Ministry, and was able to take Harry, Ginny, and Remus up on their offers. She was offered a promotion to the foreign affairs department of the Ministry, in which she would be transferred to America for a year-long assignment. She accepted, barely giving Kingsley Shacklebolt enough time to finish his sentence. At the end of the day, she had flooed back to Ron's and her flat, eyes glinting, ready to tell him the wonderful news.

Ron, however, did not believe that her news was as fantastic as she did. He looked at her incredulously before replying, "Well, you're not actually going to go are you?"

At this, Hermione lost her temper, and every single thing that had angered her over the past few years came tumbling out of her mouth. Ron, instead of cowering, retaliated just as fiercely. The two had an awful row, and he stormed out the door. She heard the faint "pop" outside the door that signaled his departure, and realized then and there that she had had enough.

In a furious frenzy, she quickly gathered all of her things. She shrank everything to a small enough size that it all fit in a handbag, much like she had done during the war. Looking around to make sure she had not forgotten anything, she stepped into the fireplace and flooed back to the Ministry.

She ran straight to Kingsley's office and nearly beat down the door, praying that he was still there. He opened the door, shocked to see her standing at his door and to see her so angry. She had quickly explained that she could not wait to leave for America, and needed to leave the country as soon as possible.

If Kingsley wanted to know what had set Hermione off, he did not ask. He simply pulled out all of the paperwork that she would need to take with her, including a list of directions on how to floo to the flat that was waiting for her in New York City. She had taken everything and, with a gracious smile, stepped into his fireplace and disappeared.

It wasn't until she stepped out into her small, dark apartment hours later and gazed out the window at the moon that she realized she had forgotten to say goodbye. To everyone.

---

But that had been a year ago. Hermione was now back in London with nowhere to go. She couldn't live with her parents, because they had moved to Scotland a few years back, and she could not make the commute from Scotland to London each day for work. She couldn't go to the Burrow, because she had not spoken to anyone from home in over a year.

Hermione knew that Harry and Ginny had been absolutely crushed that she deserted them, and she did not know if she could bear to see their faces out of sheer guilt.

However, there was one other place that she figured she would be at least a little more welcome than at the Burrow, and since it was her only plausible idea, she figured she had no choice. Sighing, she picked up her handbag, which contained all of her possessions, just like the night she had left England.

Walking out of the café, she turned into the alley next to it. Checking to make sure no one was lurking in the shadows, she quickly concentrated on her one last hope, and turned.

Arriving on the doorstep, she knocked loudly on the door, praying that this was not a huge mistake.

The door was flung open, and she suddenly found herself staring into a familiar face. The face, however, was definitely not expecting to see her, and the man's mouth hung open for a few minutes before he could will himself to speak.

"Hermione?"

She managed a small smile and nodded to the shaggy, black-haired man.

"Hello, Sirius."

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