Hermione Granger had graduated from Hogwarts six years ago.
She was now twenty-three and lived in a medium-sized apartment in one of London's most prestigious wizard neighborhoods.
After Hogwarts, she had quickly gained a reputation as one of the smartest witches of her time and had devoted her life to science, making new discoveries and brewing new potions, all of which earned her quite a respectable sum of galleons.
All that Hermione needed to complete her ideal, perfect life was the ideal, perfect man.
This was something that the Hermione Granger, greatest witch of her time, top marks at Hogwarts in both her grade and the history of Hogwarts, did not have.
Sure, she'd dated a little since she'd graduated, but with all the discoveries she'd been busy making, she really hadn't got the time to devote her all to finding boyfriends.
Hermione sat on her lovely leather couch and scowled at the letter she was holding in her hands. Leave it to her mother to complain about Hermione's lack of boyfriends. Fuming, she reread the letter.
We're so glad to hear of your accomplishments! You should write to us more often; we're so proud of you! I was very glad to know that my daughter discovered all those magic things of yours and we're glad to know that you are financially very stable.
But darling, you failed to mention any boys in your letter! I assume you are not seeing that special someone, but honey, you need to go out and find him! You're 23 years of age now, and I think that you should be looking for your soul mate and have ideas of settling down…getting married, kids…you know the deal. I was married when I was 23 I think it would be perfect if you found the same age.
Lots of luck and love,
Curses, Hermione thought—I just had to go and send my mother a letter about my accomplishments.
Hermione knew perfectly well where she got her energy drive from, and she'd derived it from her mother. Knowing the woman, she wouldn't leave her alone until Hermione had found the man she was in love with.
Like that was ever going to happen.
Many weeks later, Hermione received a letter. Goddamn it, she thought angrily, why did I apply…and then she consoled herself as she remembered.
It had been seven weeks since Hermione had received her mother's letter and begun the frantic boy hunt.
She'd dated eight guys in seven weeks and all of them had been Mr. Wrong escalated to a level that Hermione would have never imagined.
The first one had spit every time he talked. Hermione shuddered, remembering how she had to keep a considerable distance from him in order to avoid a saliva bath.
The second had appeared more interested in Hermione's money than anything else. Great, Hermione thought, a man gold-digger. That's what the world needs right now.
The third one hadn't appeared interested in anything but the mole that grew on his left hand. Hermione had a vague recollection of a muggle movie she'd once seen that involved moles. Big ones, too.
The fourth had talked a lot, to the extent where Hermione could not get a single word in. She had listened to the little bugger until she could recite all of his childhood friends, his pets, his cousins, his sisters, and his Chocolate Frog card collection.
The fifth had been fairly nice, but he was rather boring. And although Hermione hated to admit it, she did crave someone fairly decent looking, and he just didn't cut it.
The sixth and the seventh had been twins. First, Hermione had been introduced to the first one, and he had brought along his twin on the date. Such things did not fly for Hermione and neither of them had appeared particularly appealing.
Hermione had almost liked the eighth, until she had found out he was still dating his ex-girlfriend.
In short, Hermione was completely out of any ideas and was up to her wits' end in trying to find Mr. Right.
So on a desperate whim, she had applied to one of the wizard world's first reality TV shows, The Bachelor. It was an outright copy of the muggle show, where twenty-five women were selected to date one man, and in the end he picked a man to marry.
Hermione had been fed up with this whole deal and had applied.
Now she had a letter from them.
Using her better judgement, Hermione hoped that she had been rejected. It was the reasonable thing to do—after all, only desperate people went on these shows.
Then again, she was desperate, and what if, just what if the man on the show was Mr. Right?
She tore open the letter and began to read in heated anticipation.
Dear Miss Granger,
We are delighted to inform you that you have been selected to appear on the wizard world's first season of The Bachelor!
Please pack your bags for a six-week trip and arrive at the Livingston Mansion (directions are attached to this sheet) between one p.m. and five p.m. on Saturday, August 11th. There your journey into romance will begin!
We are excited to meet you and wish you a lot of luck.
-Kathy Silver, chief executive of The Bachelor
In spite of herself, Hermione squealed. She had made it!
But then again, was that really such a good thing?
Shrugging it off, Hermione walked into her room to pack her bags for the coming Saturday. Ready or not, she had been chosen as one of the twenty-five witches on The Bachelor.
Oh, Mother, she thought. It's all because of you that I've gotten myself into this.
A/N: Well? I'm going for something light and humorous. Hope it comes across that way. What do you think? Please review.