This was nothing new; in all her sixteen years of life, she had frequently been in need of money, and only rarely had the gods delivered. She’d tried everything. She’d been a seamstress, a Thestral-keeper, a scullery maid, a washerwoman. In a moment of sheer desperation two months ago she’d even turned towards prostitution – only to discover that her bushy brown hair, slightly-too-plump figure and unfashionably tanned skin meant her worth was measured in Sickles rather than Galleons. Naturally, she’d only found this out after her first customer had already rutted inside her. Now that she wasn’t a virgin she couldn’t even daydream about ever being married to a rich, handsome nobleman.