Excerpts from Landing Your Dream Job, by Branwyn Tipplehoff

...There are very few situations in which it is recommended to take time off from a current job to interview for a new position. Above all, be discreet. Don't perpetuate office gossip – just say you are taking a personal day, which is all anyone needs to know...

...Always be sure your potential employer knows your interest goes beyond the first interview. Send a thank you card through the post right afterward. You'll be perceived as thoughtful and well-mannered. Even if they don't hire you now, they may remember you when positions open in the future...

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Later that afternoon, Hermione was curled up on the sofa in the drawing room, a dog-eared paperback of Dune in her right hand and a fragrant cup of tea in her left. Engrossed as she was in the book, Ginny's head appearing in the Floo was a surprise.

“Hermione!” Ginny called in a tearful voice, “Are you home? Can I come through?”

“Ginny? Of course!” Hermione replied, setting her book and tea aside just in time to have them replaced with an armful of sobbing witch instead. “Gin, for goodness' sake! Whatever is wrong?”

Ginny pulled back and threw herself on the sofa with a scowl. “Well, you're looking at the latest casualty of Morrison's reign of terror over Magical Games and Sport,” Ginny said. “Stupid wanker fired me for going to the Harpies trial.”

Hermione bit her lip, torn between wanting to tut at Ginny and ask what she expected for skiving off work or offering a vat of ice cream.

“I had someone to cover for me and everything, and it's nothing half the blokes in the office haven't done, with less consideration from them, mind you!”

Ice cream it was, then. Possibly two vats. And sprinkles.

“Chauvinistic pig. Going to appeal it?” Hermione asked, sitting beside her.

“Not worth the trouble. I have about three months' expenses saved, so I've plenty of time to find a new job or hear an affirmative from the Harpies. No more nights out, but at least I'll eat and pay rent, hey?”

Hermione nodded. “So the trial went well?”

Ginny beamed. “Oh, Hermione! I know you don't follow or particularly care about Quidditch, but it was fantastic. I even got shots in on Gwenog Jones. GWENOG JONES, Hermione! They had me chase the Snitch, just in case, and I was able to show off some of the fancier maneuvers Krum taught us during my seventh year at Hogwarts!” She was bouncing on the couch in glee.

“Ohhh,” Hermione replied with a sly grin, “you mean the wonky-faint?”

“Wronski fei-” Ginny began, but Hermione just dissolved into giggles. Before long, Ginny was laughing too. “Ron will never believe you just made a Quidditch joke. It'll be the highlight of his year.”

“Well, I hope you hear from dear Gwenog as soon as possible,” Hermione said. “As for me, I had a strange day involving a wizard whom I thought was long dead.”

“What, did you meet the ghost of Salazar Slytherin and lambaste him for his anti-Muggle-born agenda?”

Hermione snorted. “No, I saw Snape at an Indian restaurant in Muggle London. Yes, Severus Snape, in the flesh – and looking pretty good for supposedly being dead.”

“Fuck me,” Ginny breathed. “Harry swore Snape was dead! And he was gone when you went back to the Shrieking Shack to check, wasn't he?”

“I always thought the Malfoys or someone had taken his body away for some reason. Turns out the jammy bastard wasn't dead at all. So, you didn't know he was alive? I figured maybe I'd missed something while I'd been in France. I always felt bad about just leaving him there to rot.”

Ginny shook her head. “No. I would gather somebody knows he's alive – Kingsley, or maybe Professor McGonagall. And I doubt he blames you, Hermione – even if you could have helped him, you had other things on your mind right then.”

“Ginny,” Hermione said with an exasperated air, “it's Snape. How could he not blame me?”



Hermione stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, at 10 the next morning. She and Ginny had been up until three, drinking wine, eating chocolate ice cream, and roundly verbally abusing the men of their acquaintance after they had finished tearing Ginny's ex-boss to metaphorical pieces. It had been remarkably immature, ridiculously catty, and extremely enjoyable. Now she wanted nothing more than a very large cup of coffee and a stack of bacon sarnies. She sat at the head of the table and blinked at the sunlight streaming in through the high, narrow windows.

“How is Kreacher helping Miss Hermione this morning?”

“Miss needs a pot of coffee, to start with,” Hermione replied, cracking a massive yawn. “And Ginny will want something when she wakes up, as well.”

“Coffee is being ready, Miss wants pastries?”

Hermione shook her head, thinking of the Bellatrix-special pain au chocolat. “Bacon sarnies. A stack of them. On white toast.”

Kreacher brought the coffee to the table. “Miss is drinking too much last night. Master Harry is wanting coffee and bacon butties after drinking with Master Ron, always,” he nattered on as he set the creamer and sugar bowl down. “Kreacher is thinking drinking too much is not for nice young ladies like Miss Hermione and Miss Ginny.”

“Miss Hermione is thinking she has a headache and just wants her breakfast,” Hermione said pointedly, stirring a heaping spoonful of sugar into her coffee.

Kreacher shuffled away toward the stove, muttering to himself about just trying to help and young misses these days. Hermione ignored him in favor of the cup of Tanzanian euphoria cradled in her palms. The first sip was always the best. She had just raised the cup to her lips, anticipating the quick and painless mind-unfogging to follow—

“SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

—and splashed hot coffee down the front of her pajama top, causing her to yelp with shock.

“Hermione! Hermione! Look at this letter I just got. LOOK! LOOK AT IT!” Ginny squealed, shaking a square of parchment in her hand and shoving it under Hermione's nose.

Looking forlornly at her coffee, Hermione cast a quick drying spell on her top and took the letter from Ginny with a sigh. “What could possibly be so important that I can't even drink my coffee first?” she asked, unfolding the letter.

Ginny,

You're in. The official offer and contract should show up later this morning, but I thought you'd want to know right away. Congrats, and welcome to the Harpies!

Gwenog Jones, Captain

She set the letter down and beamed at Ginny. “You're right, coffee can wait for that kind of news! Congratulations, Gin! Looks like your gamble paid off.”

Kreacher brought Ginny a cup of coffee and set a platter of bacon butties on the table. “Miss Ginny is wanting this breakfast?” he asked.

Ginny nodded. “Though I'll be a good girl and have some fruit as well, Kreacher,” she replied, sliding into a chair next to Hermione. “This is unbelievable. Un-bloody-believable.”

Hermione took a long sip of her coffee and sighed contentedly. “Now, if I can just hear that my interview yesterday went well, we'll be two-for-two this morning,” she said, nabbing a sandwich and taking a large bite.

“Oooh, that's right! Did you meet the ever-elusive Professor Harmonius?”

“I did not, but I met his HR director – one Blaise Zabini – who is looking remarkably fit, by the way. I'm fairly sure they aren't interviewing anybody else, so unless I completely cocked up the interview, I should hear from them soon. It was nice to see Blaise again. I'd enjoy working with him.”

Ginny smirked. “You'd enjoy working with him, or under him?”

“You're terrible. What would Neville say?”

“You can't make me think you're at all serious about Neville. Have you even seen him since you got back from France?” Ginny asked.

“Well, no. But it's still term time at Hogwarts, and-”

“And nothing. If you were as fond of him as you want to think you are, you'd have gone directly there, not come here and started looking for a job. I think you and Neville have been pleasant diversions for each other in the summers and on holidays, but maybe it's time to cut him free,” Ginny said gently. “And I only say this because you're both my friends.”

Hermione sighed, putting her head down on the table. “I know,” she said, her words muffled by the heavy wooden surface. “There was never any spark, but he was comfortable and comforting and familiar to come home to on breaks,” she explained, glancing up at Ginny. “And can you blame me for wanting that?”

Ginny reached out and laid her hand on Hermione's arm with a sad smile. “No, I can't blame you for wanting that, but it's time to move on,” she reasserted, sitting back. “I should probably go to the Burrow and let my mum know the good news about the Harpies. Come for dinner?”

Hermione groaned. “If you can promise to defend me against your mum's inevitable questioning of when I'm going to settle down like Ron and Harry, yes.”

Giggling, Ginny nodded. “We'll be a united front for single, self-sufficient females everywhere, I promise,” she asserted, going back to her breakfast.

Shaking her head in amusement, Hermione also returned to her coffee. The rest of the meal passed in comfortable silence, and Ginny departed for the Burrow soon after, leaving Hermione to her own devices, waiting for the post.

Now, on a normal day, Hermione took very little notice of the post, whether it came all at once or there were urgent owls. She hadn't gotten many letters during her apprenticeship; Harry and Ron were still terrible about regular correspondence, although Ginny had been good for a letter every week full of homey gossip and Luna sent occasional updates. But this was a day when she was expecting a letter. A “you're hired” or “come for another interview” letter. First, she tried going back to her book, but about four pages in, it occurred to her that she ought to send Blaise a thank you note. Well, not Blaise, but his company. Crossing to the desk in the corner, she selected an ivory card with a tastefully embossed border and deckled edge for her correspondence; professional without being fussy.

Dear Mr Zabini,

Thank you for the opportunity to interview with your firm. I appreciated the chance to sit down and discuss my career options. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Hermione J. Granger

There. That ought to make sure they knew she was really interested. She glanced at the clock. Barely noon, but she let herself out into the garden and called for Spock, who came gliding in, a letter already in his talons. She took it with steady hands and broke open the pale green W-Harmony seal.

Scanning the letter, she squealed with joy, then scowled. Con-fucking-fidentiality agreement? For a second interview with a matchmaking firm? Harmonious truly was a suspicious weirdo. Still, she knew her curiosity would get the best of her, and she signed the forms after reading them carefully, even though they would be binding in the Muggle world as well. She was actually pretty impressed with the legal jargon; no loopholes to speak of and dire consequences for blabbing. She hoped the information trade would be worth it but doubted so. That much boilerplate for an interview meant she was getting involved with a boss who was likely paranoid, insecure, and more than garden-variety distrustful.

She tucked the thank-you card back into her pocket and folded the forms back up. She'd stop by Gringotts and get them notarized later.

Bring it on, Harmonious, she thought, watching the owl disappear into the midday sun.