Fourteen Thousand Galleons

This Is Perky

She's been in a funk since she forced Harry through the floo and told him she was done talking for the night. That's twice in the same number of days she feels like she's been barrel rolled by a dragon and it's as nauseating as it is upsetting. Have they really been so detached from each other lately that she's missed important things like Ginny's affair and his friendship with Malfoy? And has he always wanted to kiss her – because he says he wants to do it again – or is that a new development, too?

How much has she missed in the past seven years? Has trying to save the scant pieces of her marriage really eclipsed everything else going on around her?

Hermione sighs. Tea and a picked-at muffin sit in front of her at the dinette table as she holds a quill firmly in her fingers. She has to inform her boss at the Ministry that she won't be returning from her sabbatical after all, and of course she's providing him no notice at all. But, what can she tell him? What reasons can she give?

Sorry, sir, but I've actually gone mad and have decided to take up nannying children to former death eaters full time. You know how it is.

Oh, P.S., please don't tell anyone lest my ex-husband finds out and properly hexes everything in a five mile radius. Cheers.

It's too early in the morning for this. Draco expects her no later than eight AM. She woke up at half five like a crazy person and has sucked down three cups of tea and two muffins already. She's showered, she's changed clothes four times, and she's wrestled her children into any semblance of matching attire she can find.

She writes a simple note and summons a local owl to take it straight to the Ministry. Her shift starts in an hour and she's already worried herself to the point of exhaustion. It's time to be done with this chapter of her life and move onto the next.

Her eyes rest on the clock while the rest of her body thrums from nerves. Officially, in an hour, she'll be working as Draco Malfoy's nanny. God, if her seventeen year old self, battle worn and hungry for the peace of adulthood, could see her now. She'd probably be riddled with stinging hexes.

It's half seven when she's finally ready to leave for Draco's home with her children. She thinks they'll be a good distraction for Scorpius to have and hopefully they continue to play nicely as they had the previous night. Hugo demands to be clothed in his one and only button down shirt and proper slacks and then promptly begs his mum to buy more. Rose, however, begs to stay home. She doesn't want to play with boys .

"I hate playing dragons and goblins, mum." Rose pouts and clasps her mum's hand as they step into the floo. "Boys are dis- gus -ting."

Hugo leans around Hermione's thighs and sticks out his tongue. Rosie responds by sticking out her tongue. Hermione clicks hers and rolls her eyes.

"I shouldn't need to remind either of you to be on your best behavior today." She grabs a handful of floo powder. "This is mummy's job now, alright? This is how we do fun things. Draco's."

"But-"

"-home."

The appear suddenly in a familiar foyer with a familiar little house elf to greet them. Tink is adorned in a yellow daisy hat today as she leads them through the house to where Draco is, no doubt, waiting for them.

"Master Draco," Tink calls when she spots the tall, suited wizard standing at a large window overlooking what, Hermione assumes is, his land. "The Granger-Weasleys are here."

Draco turns to face them. He looks taller in a formal suit, leaner and suave in a way that creates a swooping sensation deep in Hermione's stomach. He's folding the ends of his tie still, perfecting the knot and tightens it just below his adam's apple. He smiles, a tight lipped thing that isn't quite as open as it was the night before.