�Honey? Are you ready?� came her mother�s voice up the stairwell.
�Yes, Mum!� Hermione looked around her room one last time. It occurred to her that she may never live in this house again. She knew that she would remember her four-poster bed, with its handmade quilt and the sunlight spilling onto it, accentuating the pinks and blues and yellows. She knew that she would remember the times that she would walk to her bookshelf and pick out a good Tolkien or a d**kens to read. Her precious books were put in her trunk; the rest were in the assorted packing boxes. She couldn�t leave them behind. They had filled her with hope when she was most depressed, they had taught her to challenge authority, and to never deny intelligence. But now, she knew that what she was doing was right, and she was most anxious to get going. She turned, and carried her final suitcase down and put it in the car.
�Okay, honey, let�s go,� her father said. She noticed, for the first time, that he was losing his hair. Suddenly, she was seeing her parents in a different light. They looked older, as if they had aged in the last week that she had been at home. Her mother�s worry lines were more pronounced, more noticeable. Her father�s hairline was receding, and it looked as if he had taken a walk in light snow. His hair seemed lighter, and the white flecks added a sense of old-ness to his aura. She blinked once, and realized that her parents were in the car, waiting for her. She got in the back-seat, and buckled her safety belt. She turned and took one last look at her home before they rounded the corner and drove out of sight.
* * *
They arrived at the Burrow shortly after the sun dipped below the horizon. Mrs. Weasley was waiting for them, and quickly ordered Fred, George, Bill, and Charlie to help Hermione with her luggage. Hermione�s parents gracefully declined the invitation to dinner, insisting that they had a long drive home.
Ron and Harry were sitting in the window ledge, playing wizard�s chess. Ginny was deeply immersed in a book on the Dark Arts; Harry had told Hermione that Ginny�s ambition was to become an Auror. Mrs. Weasley came in shortly after Hermione had gotten settled, announcing dinner. Soon, the dishes had been cleared away, the food consumed, and the famed trio was scouring the want ads.
�Here�s one, a small job opening at the Ministry of Magic. Wait a minute, no, we don�t want that one. It�s the janitorial position.�
�Gladrags Wizard Wear is looking for a part-time seamstress. Hermione?�
�Ugh, no. Can you honestly see me, sewing robes and such?�
�I�ll take that as a �no�.�
�Harry, that�s not only a �no�, but a �hell, no�. Here�s one I may apply for: a small reporting job at the Daily Prophet.�
�You always were quite the writer.�
�What about this one? �Needed: a full-time wizard. We need someone with high work ethic, who will be willing to work overtime. If interested, contact the Magical Games and Sports office at the Ministry of Magic.�
�That sounds like one for you, Harry.�
�Hermione, could you clip that one out for me?�
�What about this one, Ron? �Help Wanted: Accidental Magic Reversal Squad office at the Ministry of Magic. Contact Arnold Peasegood for further information.� �
�That sound like a possibility.�
The three sent out resumes and had many interviews over the next few weeks. Hermione had a very promising interview at the Daily Prophet, and also at Witch Weekly, the internationally famous magazine. Finally, the news came back: she had been accepted at the Daily Prophet. She couldn�t wait to tell Ron.