Hermione was at the end of her proverbial rope. Being a divorcee at twenty five wasn't nearly as glamorous as Witch Weekly made it seem. She didn't go to posh restaurants with her plethora of other divorcee friends and get hit on by fit buss boys. She wasn't out every night drinking champagne and celebrating her freedom from commitment. For starters, she had too many responsibilities to flit from one place to another drinking half her weight in expensive alcohol. For another thing, none of her friends were divorced, and none of them even lived in Great Britain any longer.

After Harry and Ginny had gotten married, they moved to America. Harry had taken a post at the wizarding school there, Ilvermorny, and was enjoying life in relative anonymity. After the end of the war (and the near instant dissolution of her relationship with Ron), the entire Weasley clan had uprooted and moved to Egypt. While Molly claimed that it was to be closer to Bill, Fleur, and their three little ones, it was silently understood that the family couldn't live in the Burrow without Fred. No one blamed them.

Hermione had developed other friendships over the years, but she'd lost contact with her Hogwarts friends when she'd moved to Paris to get married, and she'd lost contact with her few Parisian friends when she'd come home to England. Combined with the fact that her parents had passed away the year before, and Hermione Granger was very nearly alone in the world.

Still, she didn't need anyone to rely on. She was a strong, independent witch, and she could get by perfectly well on her own, thank you very much. Or at least, she would, once she managed to find a job. And a proper house. The research paper she'd been contributing to for the last two years had been completed, and Hermione's inflexible constraints had made it nearly impossible to find new work. Worse, in a badly timed twist of fate, the owner of the flat she'd been subletting had returned without warning and given her their contractually obligated thirty day notice to get out. Because Hermione had such demanding standards for a home, the only flat she'd been able to find was temporary, well over her budget, and draining her meager funds alarmingly fast.

It was probably a good thing that her meager dating life had gone cold. Relationships would have been a distraction she couldn't afford. And besides, it wasn't as if she was sacrificing anything worthwhile. She had yet to bring a single wizard into her house, and she doubted she would start any time soon, considering her current life crisis.

When the post owl scratched at the window, Hermione hurriedly shushed the bird. It nipped at her fingers, indignant at being shushed, and then dropped the Prophet unceremoniously onto her table. Since she'd prepaid till the end of the month, the owl took off without waiting for any coins. Hermione glared at the retreating form and picked up the paper. The drivel on the first several pages was wholly ignored. Instead, she turned directly to the advertisements. Flats were listed first, and she circled a few potential prospects to look into later, then moved to employment.

One glance was enough to tell her that the column was small. She sighed. If only she could have accepted Minerva's offer to work at Hogwarts. But no. The schedule was simply impossible for her, and it wasn't fair to ask the Headmistress to make special exceptions. After all, the woman had a school to run. The first three adverts were worded so blatantly that it was obvious that the work entailed was sexual in nature. Though prostitution wasn't technically illegal, it fell so close to the north side of the law that normally it wasn't advertised so... obviously. Perhaps the pool of women willing to spread their legs to make a Galleon had dwindled so small that the brothels were getting desperate. Hermione shivered involuntarily. Despite her firm belief that a woman's body was hers to do with as she pleased, she couldn't imagine how destitute a woman would have to be to turn to that life.

The next two posts appeared legitimate, but didn't match her qualifications. Her Masters in Arithmancy and Mage in Magical Creatures hadn't been chosen with the average employer in mind. They had been tailored to fit a post at the Ministry, but... well, that ship had sailed. The last advert was longer than the others, and she had to squint to make out the small print.

House Manager Wanted

Older gentleman seeks capable individual to handle the running of a large estate outside Presteigne. Candidate must be hard working, honest, fastidious, and have knowledge of gardening. Duties will include cleaning, cooking, maintaining the larder, gardens, and atrium. Post is live-in ONLY, with private rooms provided. Married couples, individuals under the age of twenty, and those with secondary employment need not apply. Salary is 1,000 Galleons a month, with additional stipends for expenses. Following three month probationary period, yearly contract will be required. Please send inquiries to Saer Coed, care of SP, Presenteigne, Wales, by post.

Hermione double checked the salary three times before she believed what was printed. It had to be an error, right? Who paid a live in housekeeper a thousand Galleons a month plus additional stipends? Doing the calculations in her head to convert Galleons to Euros, she realized it was almost as much as her parents had made as dentists. Perhaps because of the small town, and the seclusion involved, the higher salary was needed to draw an appropriate candidate from a larger town? Or maybe the house was old and in need of serious work.

She shouldn't even be considering it. The job was far, far below her capabilities. To say she was overqualified was a gross understatement. It was a glorified maid position, for heaven's sake! But... such a job would likely be able to accommodate her specific schedule and needs. Plus, the housing was provided. That fact might be an inconvenience to others, but for Hermione it would be a godsend.

Of course, none of those things meant anything unless the house and employer met her exacting standards. Summoning her quill and some parchment, Hermione began to draft a reply.

Dear sir,

I am writing in response to your advertisement in the Daily Prophet for a House Manager. After careful consideration, I believe I meet all your requirements. A live-in position suits my circumstances, and I have attached a list of impeachable references of my character. If they are to your satisfaction, I would like to set up a time to meet in person to discuss further terms. I await your reply at Northing House, Kettering.

Yours, Hermione Granger

She attached the list of references, including her favorite professor in Paris and Minerva. Then, she busied herself with chores until she could get down to the Owlry and send her inquiry.