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“The least you could do is hire a hot nanny.”

The words repeated on a loop in Hermione’s mind as she changed Rose’s diaper, each recurrence only further stoking her ire at her husband.

Who the fuck did Ron think he was?

When he’d decided to quit working as an Auror to go part-time at the joke shop, Hermione had had misgivings.

It turned out that what she thought were misgivings were actually just common sense. Now she worked longer hours just managing their household, while Ron went out with friends Hermione had never even met.

When she’d told him she was pregnant, he’d seemed happy enough. At first, she’d thought maybe becoming a father would finally give him a reason to grow up.

But his satisfaction seemed to stem more from the perceived display of virility than from any real desire to be a father. He liked the idea of fatherhood much more than the actual practice.

Yet he’d been irritated to learn that she planned on going back to work when her maternity leave ended.

Now, with her leave nearly over, Hermione was scrambling to find someone to watch Rose while she resumed working ten hour days.

Hermione scoffed to herself. A hot nanny.

For fuck’s sake.

***

A week before she was due back at work, she met Theo for coffee to catch up on all the goings on at the department.

“A hot nanny?” he snorted. “Remind me again how such a smart girl ended up married to such an utter—”

Hermione sighed, cutting him off. “He wasn’t always this bad.”

Theo raised a brow. “Is that why you shot him with the birds in the Great Hall? Don’t think we didn’t all notice.”

Heat flushed her cheeks as Theo reached across the table, placing his hand over hers for a gentle, comforting squeeze.

“I might have a recommendation,” he said lightly, a slight grin tugging at his lips. “I’ll have them come by tomorrow.”

Hermione highly doubted Theo knew much about children, let alone childcare.

Other than the two or three times he’d been over to visit Rose, he wasn’t around many as far as she knew. Like Hermione, Theo was an only child and other than Pansy and Neville, none of his friends had had children yet. As far as she knew.

She appreciated the support of her colleague and friend all the same.

Hermione hadn’t even gone back to work yet and she was already tired.

***

When Hermione opened the doon the day after coffee with Theo, she was stunned speechless to find the last person she’d ever expected to see standing there on her front stoop.

A tall, blond man with a very familiar sneer on his face that faded into something else when he saw her.

For a moment, he was silent too, just staring at her. Hermione stared back, knowing in her heart that Theo was responsible for this and for what?

“Granger,” came a familiar drawling voice, though it sounded different than it used to. Not quite as arrogant, much softer. Almost sensual, if she were being honest.

She hadn’t seen him in five years and well—

Draco Malfoy was hot. 

He was far from the wisp of a boy he’d been back at school. Clearly, he’d put some work into his physique. He was wearing a white Oxford shirt and black trousers. His sieeves were rolled up and his forearms were very… well.

Hermione swallowed. They were, in fact, very nice forearms. 

Theo rarely spoke about Malfoy. He was clearly aware that the subject was complicated to say the least.

All Hermione knew was that he had gone off the grid after his acquittal, laying low in France. Every so often, she’d spot him in the Prophet, usually photographed with a different witch on his arm.

A bit of a fuckboy, if she had to guess.

And now he was here. On her front stoop. 

“Malfoy?” was all she could come up with to say. 

“Good observation,” he replied, mouth curving up.

He studied her intently for a moment, eyes dropping to her bare feet, and back up to her face. Hermione huffed slightly, still too dazed by his presence to feel self-conscious about his apparent cataloguing of her body. Finally, his eyes landed back on hers.

“I hear you’re hiring.”

Hermione blinked. “Hiring?”

“Theo tells me you’re looking for a nanny.”

“And what exactly does that have to do with you?”

Malfoy smirked. She’d always hated that smirk. Even when they were younger, it had always just…infuriated her.

“I’m wonderful with kids, Granger. I come with great references.”

Hermione pursed her lips and crossed her arms over her chest, huffing when he gave her a fond smile at her defensive stance. As though she were a cute little kitten or a…well, a toddler.

“Like who?” She didn’t know why she was even entertaining this conversation. “Voldemort?”

Malfoy tutted. “Still feisty as ever I see.” He paused, still looking at her like she was an adorable pet. “Well, Pansy and Longbottom for one. I’m Poppy’s godfather.” He brushed a strand of blond hair out of his eyes and Hermione scoffed.

“Neville allowed you to be his child’s godfather?” Although come to think of it, Hermione did recall hearing something about this.

Malfoy ignored her. “Potter and my Aunt Andromeda for another.”

Right, Teddy. Hermione definitely recalled both Andromeda and Harry mentioning that Malfoy was quite good with him. After the war, he’d managed to repair family relations and had stepped up as an older cousin.

But still. Malfoy as her nanny?

“But why would you even want to work for me?”

“Theo told me you needed help.”

“And that’s mattered to you since when?”

Malfoy looked down at his feet, smiling faintly to himself. “Since Theo told me you needed help.”

Just then, Hermione heard the telltale sounds of Rose waking from her nap. Malfoy perked up, looking into the house behind her.

“Is Weasley not home? Isn’t he supposed to be your house husband or something?”

“He’s out.” It was a good thing too. Even five years out of school, Ron still whinged regularly about Malfoy, and likely wouldn’t take kindly to him being at his house.

Although she had a feeling this Malfoy would win any fight against Ron—whether it be one of wits, brawn, or magic.

“Out where?” Malfoy frowned, his eyes roving over her, as if he were inspecting her up and down.

“Just…out,” she snapped, irritated. Had Malfoy always been so nosy??

“Why,” Malfoy asked, his eyes landing on hers, “would any man want to go out when he has this at home?” He gestured in her general direction.

Hermione sighed, exasperated. So it was a pissing match he was here for.

Men.

No. This man.

“Malfoy, why are you here?”

“Listen,” he said, and something in his tone was sincere enough that she didn’t slam the door in his face. “I’m genuinely good with children, Granger. Theo told me you needed help and well.” He smiled at her in a most fuckboy fashion. “I’m available.”

Rose began to sputter in her cot and Hermione lifted her chin, drawing back to let him in. Perfect timing. Or the worst timing, depending on how it went.

She raised a brow in challenge, knowing full well that Rose hated to see any other face than hers when she woke up.

“Prove it then.”

With a smirk that should have ruffled her feathers, Malfoy stepped into her sitting room, and walked directly over to the cot, lifting the one year old, cooing softly to her.

Hermione waited, fully expecting stranger danger to kick in and a screaming baby to chase Malfoy out of there. Rose screamed even on the rare occasions that Ron got her up from her naps.

Much to Hermione’s great surprise and no small flash of irritation at Malfoy, Rose settled instantly, smiling and cooing back.

So the man knew how to hold a baby. That didn’t make him Mary fucking Poppins.

Babies like pretty things and Malfoy just happened to be extraordinarily pretty.

“Has she said her first word yet?” he asked, bouncing Rose a bit and looking at Hermione as she walked towards them in a huff.

“No,” Hermione said, annoyed for reasons she couldn’t quite put into words. “She’s just turned one.” It wasn’t exactly true. She had certainly coo’d something very similar to sounding like “mama” at times.

Though, she supposed, her younger self wouldn’t have needed an explanation for why Malfoy’s presence in her home would irk her. Let alone Malfoy holding her baby.

“Well, they’re all different,” Malfoy said. “Teddy was saying several words at a year. But Poppy isn’t talking yet and she’s almost fifteen months old.” He looked down at Rose, and smiled while Hermione gaped at him. “It’s lucky for her she takes after her mother. She’ll be lecturing us all on Magical Theory and Hogwarts: A History before she turns two.”

Hermione scoffed, doing her best to school her expression. She would not laugh at Malfoy’s little joke, especially if it was at her expense. Even if it did appear to be a compliment of sorts.

He handed over the baby, who–much to Hermione’s dismay—clung to him, before she finally reached for Hermione, and then he pulled his wand out of his pocket.

With a flourish and a flick, he conjured a slip of parchment with writing on it.

“My Floo address,” he told her.

And though Hermione’s instincts should have had her telling him to get bent—they didn’t. Instead she simply huffed, nodded, and took the paper. She’d give Theo an earful the next time she saw him.

Malfoy gave Hermione an unsettlingly attractive smile, and then had the gall to fix one of her curls that had fallen out of her bun.

“Like I said,” he murmured, leaning in. “I’m available to you.”

Hermione swallowed, and of course he noticed, his eyes dropping to the bobbing of her throat.

“Yes,” she managed. “You said that already.”

“Completely at your disposal.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she lied (more to herself than anything).

“Top of mind, I hope,” Malfoy said, lips twitching up. “Even if as a last resort.”

She rolled her eyes and sent him out through the Floo.

***

Hermione was still pondering Malfoy while she made dinner and set the table.

She didn’t know why she’d even bothered cooking.

Ron was hardly ever home for dinner anymore, and when he was, all he did was complain that her food wasn’t as good as his mother’s.

Of course, she ate spaghetti alone at the table while Rose made a disaster of her high chair.

What on earth had Theo been thinking sending Malfoy to her? Even if he was someone’s godfather or cousin, he was hardly nanny material.

Though he was hot, there was no denying that.

Ron would have an aneurysm if she ever told him that Malfoy had applied for the position of nanny.

A position she shouldn’t even need to hire out for. Ron was practically unemployed. Surely his own brother would be understanding about his schedule. George was Rose’s uncle after all.

Hermione was in her pajamas and cleaning the kitchen when her husband walked in the door.

“Mess in here,” he muttered, stumbling slightly. Hermione wrinkled her nose at the sharp smell of cheap perfume–a combination of baby powder and rubbing alcohol.

When she turned to look at him, she noticed that his collar seemed to shimmer. Peering closer, she furrowed her brow.

“You missed dinner. And you’re covered in glitter,” she said. “Again.”

“No, I’m not,” Ron scoffed. “You’re always accusing me of things I didn’t do. I’m pretty bloody tired of it to be honest.” Not only was he stumbling, he was slurring.

Hermione rolled her eyes. It really wasn’t worth the fight. He came home reeking and shimmery more and more, and frankly, she was done fighting with him about it.

“Did you find a nanny yet?” he asked, breathing hard after chugging a glass of water. “Hopefully a fit one.”

Hermione nearly choked, just thinking about what Ron might make of the fit nanny who’d shown up at their house earlier. Briefly, she considered telling him.

There was a time when they both would have thought it was funny, but now she mostly felt like telling him for the sole purpose of antagonizing him.

“By the way,” he said, before she could decide. “I’ve gotta go away this weekend. A work trip.”

Hermione raised a dubious eyebrow, as she rinsed the sponge in the sink. She preferred to clean manually; it soothed her.

Why would Ron be going away on a last minute work trip for a part time job at his brother’s shop?

“A work trip?”

“Yup.” Ron didn’t meet her eyes. “I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”

Well, that was just great.

She’d planned on going into the office on Friday to get her desk situated and catching up with her colleagues before going full gear. Leave it to Ron to completely disregard her needs.

For his little “work trip.”

Oh well. She’d figure it out. She always did.

But the next day, after Ron had left, when she reached out to her usual network of babysitters, no such luck.

Pansy was busy, Ginny was busy. She wasn’t about to ask Molly, who already judged her for her willingness to leave Rose at home and go back to work.

Hermione refused to think about the last resort.

***

Pacing around her house, she pondered what to do.

She could take Rose into the Ministry with her. Plenty of people there would keep her busy.

But, Hermione reminded herself, the point was to get herself used to being at work without Rose. It was the separation she was most apprehensive about.

Ron would never understand that. He came and went as he pleased, all for the sake of pleasure, not even business.

He worked fifteen hours a week, tops, which really just meant he dicked around at the shop and then went out after, though she didn’t know with who. Harry too was knee deep in diapers at his house, and Ginny ran a tight ship.

Sitting down to pay bills, just one more task for Hermione to take care of, she checked the family vault just to make sure she’d transferred enough money over to the account she used for billpaying purposes.

Hermione blinked as her eyes landed first on a balance that was off by several galleons, and then on a few transactions she wasn’t expecting to see.

The Hotel Dame Des Arts. Café de l'Homme.

Van Cleef & Arpels.

All the places they’d gone on their honeymoon, much much too expensive for their budget at the time, and even more so now, with Ron barely working, and now with a child.

For a long time, he’d relied on his Order of Merlin money to fund his lifestyle.

Hermione had had the foresight to put a large chunk of hers in a separate account, and watched as Ron burned through his, spiffing up his wardrobe, his hair, buying drinks for an entire pub, just generally showing off.

His money was gone and now he was using their joint funds to wine and dine...someone. Probably the same someone who wore cheap perfume and covered herself in glitter.

Clearly, George hadn’t sent him to the most romantic hotel, or a French restaurant on his own dime, let alone a jewelry store. George probably hadn’t sent him to Paris at all.

To say Hermione was shocked would be a gross overstatement. Motherhood hadn’t made her stupid.

She was just busy, drowning in breast milk, and diapers, and unsolicited advice, and unmet needs and hadn’t really had time to grapple with the fact that Ron was clearly having an affair.

But what could she do about it? He was off in Paris romancing a woman who wasn’t his wife or the mother of his child. He’d neglected to even say goodbye to Rose before he’d left.

And Hermione had shit to do.

Fucking fine, she thought. She’d call Malfoy.

***

“No,” Malfoy said, shaking his head.

“This will only work if I pay you,” she said, her hands on her hips, tapping her toe.

He scoffed, “I’m still rich you know.”

“Malfoy,” she scoffed back. “I don’t care about how much money you have. I have never cared about how much money you have, nor will I ever care. If you are providing child care for me, against all of my saner instincts, then I insist on paying you as I would pay anyone else.”

“You can call me Draco, you know. We’re not children anymore.”

It appeared he’d chosen to ignore the rest of her tirade beyond her referring to him by his surname. The thought of calling him by his first name was daunting, even as he bounced her baby on his hip.

Then again, she was having a hard time looking at him at all.

Had he always been so tall? She knew his breeding had obviously been particular but had he always had such perfectly…defined features?

He’d always been handsome though, something which had irked her to no end.

Silver eyes with blonde lashes. So much like his father’s, yet more kind?

Those perfect Cupid’s bow lips, pouty and almost sweet, they seemed to contradict the sneering words that used to come out of his mouth.

Never mind the fact that he was a gazillionaire or whatever.

How was it possible this man was not just single but available to her? And for child care? Had the world toppled on its axis? Hermione certainly felt like she had. Her life had toppled.

“Take your time,” he said. “Rose is fine. I have nowhere to be today. And if it helps you sleep at night,” he rolled his eyes, ”I’ll accept your bloody payment.”

Hermione let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. “Fine. Yes. Great.”

“I’ll set it aside in an account for Rose. Same amount you’d pay anyone else.”

She could have argued, but she supposed he could do whatever he wanted with his money. And besides, she was in a bind.

He was here, he was more than competent for the job.

(And had she mentioned that he was distractingly good looking?)

It was odd that it felt easier to leave Rose in the large, capable hands of Draco Malfoy than it did with her own mother-in-law.

He wasn’t eyeing her critically–although he was eyeing her–he didn’t make rude remarks about her housekeeping or insist that Rose must have gotten every single gene from her father’s side of the family.

Rose, too, seemed at ease. She’d only clung for a second before she’d gone willingly to Malfoy.

Hermione had been able to shower and dress for the Ministry while Malfoy entertained the baby. Rose had barely even looked up when Hermione re-entered the room.

“That’s a girl,” Malfoy crooned. “We’ll be just fine, won’t we Rose? Mummy will be back before we know it.”

This time, Hermione’s breath was caught in a half-choke. Draco Malfoy calling her Mummy was…well.

Gods. 

She cleared her throat, and straightened her clothes. Luckily her work robes still fit. She’d only had to do a few ironing charms.

“Oh, hold on.” Malfoy reached a hand toward her and then paused. Her eyes lifted to his and she stopped breathing for a second.

“May I?” he asked, sounding uncharacteristically out of breath. He appeared to be reaching for her chest. “You have a…”

When Hermione looked down, she  saw what Malfoy was referring to. Her robes fit, everywhere except for her chest.

She’d made sure to wear her self-pumping bra, but even drained, her breasts were larger than they’d used to be. There was a slight gap in the button, and Hermione knew Malfoy had gotten a pretty good look at her cleavage.

“I’ve got it,” she said, her cheeks flaming as she charmed the robes to expand just ever so slightly.

Malfoy smiled a little.

“Floo directly into my office if anything happens,” Hermione said, forcing herself back into business mode. “Or send a Patronus.” She tilted her head, considering him. “You can send a Patronus can’t you?”

“Of course, Granger.” He rolled his eyes.

“Oh.” Hermione was genuinely surprised for reasons she didn’t feel like delving into. “What is it?”

Malfoy smirked. “A peacock.”

Of course.

“Of course it is. Okay, well. I’ll just be going.”

She didn’t move. Her hand reached out to run through Rose’s wispy curls, and a pang of longing struck her chest.

“Granger,” he asked gently. “Do you want us to walk you to your office? Then you won’t have to say goodbye here?”

She considered it, but knew it would lead to a slippery slope. Besides, she’d have enough questions to answer after a year away without the questions people would have about why Draco Malfoy was walking her to work carrying her baby.

“No. I’ll be fine.” She forced herself to turn away but not before she watched as Malfoy flicked his wand and made one of Rose’s toy unicorns float just over her head.

Hermione felt her lips twitch in spite of herself.

***

She lasted most of the afternoon in her office, rearranging her desk, organizing files, reading through memos and filling out her planner for the following week.

By 4pm Hermione rubbed her temples. She was getting a headache from the too bright lights she was no longer used to, and the stress of people popping into her office, already requesting things of her.

“I’m not officially back yet,” she called out when someone knocked on her door. They entered anyway.

“Theo,” she said, standing from her desk and smiling when she saw Blaise was with him. “Blaise.”

“Welcome back, darling.” Theo dropped a kiss on her cheek. “Just came to see how the manny is treating you.”

“The manny?”

“Your hot nanny,” Theo said, rolling his eyes as Blaise covered a grin. “I told you he was good with kids.”

He nudged Blaise. “Isn’t he?”

“He is, rather,” Blaise offered with a grin. “Though I think he’d be good at anything Granger required of him.”

Theo sucked his teeth. “Pish, Blaisey my love. Granger is married, don’t forget.”

“Mm. Tragic.”

This cryptic shit certainly wasn’t helping her headache.

“Oh.” Hermione checked her watch.”I’d better get going. It’s been almost three hours.”

“He’s rich, don’t forget.” Blaise winked. “Don’t let him overcharge you.”

Hermione huffed and summoned her outer robes, holding them under one arm as she stepped through the Floo to her sitting room, planning to immediately search her kitchen stores for a headache potion.

Malfoy was sitting with a book in his lap when she entered. He had his legs crossed and he wore—she swallowed—reading glasses.

Only Malfoy could make reading look hot.

“Hi.” He snapped the book shut and stood. He was so tall. “How was it?”

“As if I’d never been away, minus the one million meetings I’ve scheduled to get myself caught up.”

Hermione sighed, dropping her things on a nearby table and rubbed her temples with her fingertips.

“Headache?”

“Feels like I was attacked by a Bludger. Where’s Rose?”

He murmured the spell for the baby monitor charm, and an image of Rose asleep in her cot came up. Her daughter sighed in her sleep and rolled a bit and Hermione restrained herself from running down the hall and cuddling her close.

The image faded away.

“She’s fine. Still napping. Come here,” he said, gently turning her around so her back was to him.

“What–?”

“Just trust me.”

Hermione supposed she already did, if she’d left her baby with him for three hours. Only because Theo did, she reminded herself. And Andromeda. And Harry. And Pansy. And Neville. And—

“I can feel you thinking, Granger,” he scoffed. “May I touch you?”

She huffed and gave a brisk nod. “If you must.”

He chuckled as hands drifted to her shoulders, the lightest press of fingertips. He began rubbing circles with his thumbs then working long, slow glides up the sides of her neck, to the back of her skull, until she was practically purring.

Shit.

The man was good with his hands.

His hand moved up into her hair, cradling her head as he worked her temples.

Hermione felt her nipples harden, and a shiver ran down her spine.

When she moaned, his slow, steady breathing behind her became…slightly less steady. He exhaled harshly, fingers pausing before continuing their movements. If he was this good on her neck, and her temples, what would his fingers feel like between her legs?

Hermione’s own breath came faster, and when she had to press her thighs to relieve the pressure between them, her eyes snapped open, and her own hand came up to rub her neck.

“There,” he breathed, so softly, he was practically whispering, “all better?”

Hermione turned, swallowing when her eyes met his. He was looking down at her with concern in his silver gaze.

She never noticed before—and maybe that’s because she’d never been as close to him— that he had a rim of navy blue around his irises.

“Where did you learn that?”

He shrugged. “I used to get headaches quite a lot when I was younger.”

Clearing her throat, Hermione stepped back. She almost would’ve thought he’d hexed her by what she asked him next.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

***

It was strange, having dinner with someone who wanted to engage in conversation rather than complain about the food or throw their blueberries across the kitchen.

It was strange having dinner with Malfoy. She imagined he was used to tables with seating for twelve, with fine china and crystal goblets and general opulence.

Pizza and red wine were what she had to offer, and he accepted graciously, though he did eat it with a fork and a knife; a proper gentleman even in the face of frozen pizza.

He smiled, charmed when Rose offered him a slice of mushed banana, which he rerouted back to her own mouth with barely a flinch.

Ron would have gagged.

“So,” Hermione began, and Malfoy looked at her expectantly. “You were in France, right?”

He hesitated, seeming surprised that she would know this and so she quickly answered his unspoken question. “Theo.”

“Ah, of course. And, yes. I was.”

“What brought you back?”

He took a long swallow of Cabernet, then set his glass down.

After a moment, his eyes lifted back to hers. “I had some business to attend to. There wasn’t really anything for me in France. I was just there wasting time.”

Well, that didn’t answer her question. But he swiftly moved the conversation along.

“Theo tells me you’re quite the up-and-comer in the Ministry.” He smirked. “Not that anyone would be surprised.”

Feeling a bit shy, Hermione reached for Rose, who had finished her meal and was reaching her breaking point of sitting in her highchair.

She pulled her daughter into her lap, kissing her soft curls, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. Merlin, she’d missed her.

Malfoy studied them, and shook his head. “I have to say…”

Hermione braced herself for some kind of comment about her husband, tried her best to emotionally prepare to defend said husband, even though she really had nothing left.

“You’re quite the marvel, Granger. Motherhood looks good on you.”

It was awkward, but not in the way that it should have been. Hermione felt warm all over and hated that her cheeks were surely pink.

Later, Hermione had to admit she really liked the way Malfoy’s biceps flexed as he held Rose on one hip and dried dishes with his other hand.

She bit her lip when he flicked his wand and all the dishes were sent neatly into the cupboard.

So he could multitask. That didn’t make him Merlin.

“I should probably get Rose down,” she said, the kitchen spotless.

He nodded. “Alright.”

She and Rose walked him to the Floo, and she could feel a reluctance to leave on his part and felt the same reluctance for herself. It was just nice having adult conversation, that was all.

It wasn’t his long fingers or his pouty lips, or that smirk or the way that his gaze warmed her.

“Granger, when I said I’m available to you…” he trailed off slightly as if deciding how he wanted to word his next sentence.

“I mean for anything.” His eyes dropped to her lips. “I’m good at other things than childcare, you know. I can help you however you need.”

Hermione’s throat felt tight as she tried to ignore the heat his gaze sent straight to her core.

“Can you come tomorrow?” she asked before she could stop herself. “It’s laundry day and it’ll be easier with a second set of hands. And possibly Sunday? I’m sure I’ll be stressed.” She bit her lip and met Malfoy’s eyes. “I’m very nervous about being away from her every day, all day.”

Malfoy listened attentively, his eyes never leaving hers.

Sighing, she looked away, confessing to him something she hadn’t said out loud to anyone else. “I often wonder if I’m doing the right thing, going back. It feels like I’m abandoning her.”

“I’ll be here,” he said, then his index finger lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Both days. I know it’s been a long time Granger, but if there’s one thing I know about you it’s that you always do the right thing.”

That night, Hermione dreamed of lean muscles, and pale skin. Silver eyes and blond hair that was unnecessarily slutty.

She woke up alone and found herself wet and aching, for the first time in over a year.

And likewise, for the first time in over a year, she did something about it, slipping her hand into her knickers, telling herself never again, and no one would ever have to know.

***

Malfoy wasn’t just good with kids. He was phenomenal.

It was almost devastating, really, except for the sound of Rose’s giggles causing a contagious happiness that Hermione hadn’t felt in quite a while.

It had been an unseasonably warm summer, and that weekend alone was setting record temperatures. Draco had been there for almost the entire weekend, only going home to sleep and coming back to help with feeding and caring for Rose, but also for Hermione.

That morning, he’d arrived with her favorite almond pastries and tea made exactly to her liking.

Despite Hermione’s skill at temperature charms, it was still a little bit warm in the house.

She wore the minimum amount of clothing to still be decent while also going back-and-forth between the Ministry, the market, and home, all the while, pondering how she planned to confront Ron.

When she came home Sunday afternoon after running errands, she couldn’t find Draco and Rose anywhere.

After a brief moment of panic, she followed the sound of giggles out to the back yard where Malfoy had charmed the hose to rain down on them, much in the vein of a firehose.

Rose was wearing a little polkadot swimsuit and her little water shoes, and Malfoy wore…well, not much.

He was wearing grey joggers, muggle flip-flops, and was shirtless.

Hermione stood, watching them a bit dumbly for a moment before they noticed her.

“Mummumum,” Rose said, reaching her arms out towards Hermione. She took her into her arms, not taking into consideration the fact that Rose was dripping with water, which made Hermione’s cream-colored sun dress more or less see-through.

But Hermione didn’t care about that.

“She said…” She stopped, gaping at Malfoy who looked awfully smug for a half-naked, wet man.

“Her first word, wouldn’t you say?”

Hermone’s eyes filled with tears as she realized.

“You did it, Rose. You said Mum—“

But she barely had time to register the fact that Rose had said her first word—her name—before she heard a scoffing sound behind her.

A sound she knew all too well.

“Well, isn’t this cozy?”

Draco turned, managing to step partway between Ron and Hermione and Rose.

“Weasley. Fancy meeting you here.”

“I live here.”

“Do you? I truly couldn’t tell.”

Ron looked at her. “What the fuck,” he hissed, “is he doing here?”

His eyes were slightly glazed over, his cheeks were ruddy. His pupils were slightly dilated. And as usual, he reeked of some type of perfume that Hermione wouldn’t be caught near.

She was done.

They’d been having a nice moment and now he’d come to ruin it as usual.

“You wanted a hot nanny,” Hermione said, over it all, and gestured toward Draco, who looked damn good with his arms crossed over his broad, lightly muscled chest. “I don’t think it gets much hotter than him.”

Ron looked from her to Draco to Rose. His eyes lingered on his daughter, and thankfully, he kept his tone quiet.

He wasn’t a horrible father, just a horrid husband.

“Seems like I interrupted a nice little family moment.”

It was Hermione’s turn to scoff. “Seems like we interrupted your romantic weekend away.” She peered closer. “Are those lovebites on your neck?”

Draco made a sound of revulsion and Hermione turned to him. “Can you please take Rose inside?”

When Ron began to sputter, Draco spared him a sneer before taking Rose from Hermione and cooing to her as he walked into the house.

“How was Paris?” she fumed. “Hotel Dame? Des Arts? Café de l'Homme? And Merlin knows where else you took your little girlfriend.”

She sniffed in his general direction. “I hope you bought her some nicer perfume.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I go on a work trip and all you do is bitch. What do you fucking want from me?”

“Well, first of all, I’d prefer a husband who doesn’t come home covered in glitter and reeking of another woman,” she snapped. “One who takes an interest in his daughter would be a bonus.”

“I do take an interest!”

“When? You can’t even make it home for dinner. I don’t think you’ve ever put her to bed. And when I tell you I’m going back to work because my maternity leave is up, you tell me to hire a hot nanny? Well I have. Draco is—”

Ron’s fists clenched. “Oh, Draco is it? How sweet. How the fuck does he even know where we live?”

“Because Theo knew I was in a bind and sent him here.”

“Since when is Malfoy a nanny?” He laughed incredulously and Hermione bristled. “Bloody hell, Hermione. Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“Maybe,” she said. “And I’m also down a husband.”

He gaped at her. “Wh-what?”

“You don’t want to be here anyway. When you are, all you do is sulk or ignore us or make derisive comments. So, you know what? Just go.”

“Hermione…”

“Go,” she said, her voice calm and matter-of-fact. “I’ll send your things to your mother’s house. Or your little girlfriend’s house. Wherever you end up.”

“But—”

“I’d like for you and Rose to have some semblance of a relationship. But if you’re not interested, then forget about it. She deserves better and I will make sure that she gets it.”

“I’m not leaving,” Ron protested. “This is my house too and—”

Draco appeared in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he glared at Ron. Much to Hermione’s dismay, he’d put his shirt back on.

“She said to leave.”

“Mione, you can’t be bloody serious. I—”

“Just go.”

Ron growled, but for once in his life, he listened.

***

When she came inside, Draco gave her space.

He held Rose’s little hand and walked her around the room. It was so cute, it made her heart clench.

Seeing Draco’s deft and gentle care with her child made other things clench.

Hermione walked into the bedroom, swishing and flicking her wand around, gathering as many of Ron’s things as she could, shrinking it all down and packing it in a suitcase.

In the morning, she’d call Harry and Ginny over and explain what happened. They likely wouldn’t be surprised though she surmised that Ginny might very well kick Ron’s arse.

She let herself cry.

Not because she was devastated over the end of her marriage, but because of the way it had ended. Once upon a time, she and Ron had been young and hopeful and in love, running off fumes of adrenaline from surviving a whole war.

And Rose, her sweet darling girl who deserved a father who was patient and present.

After allowing herself exactly ten minutes to grieve (for the time being—it simply wasn’t the time for deep thinking), she wiped her tears and went out to join Draco and Rose in the kitchen. He was making tea and Rose was in her high chair with a  fistful of Cheerios.

Hermione watched them for a moment, smiling at the way Draco talked continuously to her, narrating what he was doing, asking her questions he obviously didn’t expect her to answer.

Gods, he was unfairly fit. In more ways than one. 

He’d make a wonderful father one day.

On a similar yet probably unrelated note—Hermione wanted to fuck him.

She had known from the moment she saw Draco shirtless outside with her daughter on his shoulders, that she needed to fuck him.

One way or another, inevitably…Hermione was going to fuck him.

When she joined him at the counter, he looked down at her. “You alright?” he asked quietly, his eyes searching her face, no doubt taking in her red eyes that she hadn’t even attempted to glamour.

She nodded and smiled gratefully. “Thank you. For being here. Really. You’ve been such a great help.”

***

They put Rose down together. Draco read her a story and Hermione croaked through a creaky rendition of “You Are My Sunshine,” then they slipped quietly out of the room together.

Out in the hallway, Draco studied her, seeming to want to say something.

Her eyes drifted over his perfect face, down to his lips. He smelled so good, like fresh cut grass and mint and the pages of her favourite bookz.

“I should go,” he said, but he made no move to do so.

“Alright,” she replied, making no move to walk him out.

She breathed out shakily, feeling something in the air between them, not tension exactly, but something much more heady. Truthfully, she was trying not to climb him like a tree.

“Draco?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have to go.” She looked up at him through her lashes hoping he’d take the hint.

(As forementioned, she really really wanted to fuck him.)

His pupils darkened and her pulse sped up.

“Hermione, if this is about Weasley—”

She reached for his hand, and his long fingers automatically wrapped around hers, pulling her in.

“It’s not,” she reassured. “Not even a little bit.”

And truly, she wasn’t thinking of her soon-to-be-ex at all. She could barely think of anything other than Draco’s lips, his hands, the lean lines of his arms, and how he might feel on top of her, pressing her into the mattress.

He drifted closer to her in the small hallway, and brushed a curl out of her eyes. They both watched as it clung to his finger.

“When was the last time anyone made you feel good?” he murmured.

She didn’t answer, instead leaned further into him. How did she tell him it was her, while thinking of him?

“You make me feel good,” was her honest answer.

She watched him swallow, throat bobbing as he considered her.

“Hermione,” he said. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? How completely fucked in the head anyone would have to be to ever want anyone else?”

She squeezed his hand.

“I’m yours for the taking you know,” Draco murmured. “I know it’s too soon but if you ever want me—”

That was it.

She kissed him. Maybe she had gone insane, maybe she had lost her ever-loving mind, but he kissed her back so eagerly, at least she knew she wasn’t the only one. Thankfully, she hadn’t read him wrong.

He pressed her against the wall, and plunged his tongue into her mouth, groaning when she closed her lips around it and sucked.

When she pulled away to breathe, he pressed kisses to her jaw, her throat, her shoulder.

Hermione pulled him by the hand down the hallway, toward her room, now empty of Ron’s things.

Yep, she was going to fuck him alright.

***

Once inside, she closed the door behind them.

After casting a silencing charm on the door and casting a Monitor charm to make sure Rose was sleeping, Hermione proceeded to spiral.

Was she just as bad as a man?

Falling for a hot nanny, desperate to have sex with him after only a few days?

What if she’d read him wrong and he just meant—

“Hermione?” His large hands rested on her shoulders and she looked up into his eyes. His pupils were dilated and he seemed…oddly disheveled.

“We don’t have to do anything,” he said, eyes on hers. His hands stroked soothingly up and down her arms. “I know you’ve been through a lot today and I don’t want you to feel—”

“I want you to fuck me,” Hermione  said plainly. “If—if you want that.”

Malfoy’s eyes widened and he swallowed—hard.

Her tongue slid thirstily along her lower lip and she decided she really wanted to lick his Adam’s apple. Follow it down to the hollow of his throat and suck. 

“Salazar’s ball’s, Granger.” He shook his head. 

“Of course I fucking want that. I’ve always fucking wanted that. I just want you to be sure.” 

Her hands were on his chest and he felt so solid beneath her hands, she wanted to meld herself into him. 

He gripped her waist, fingers flexing and unflexing, like he couldn’t quite decide between letting her go and keeping her there tight against him. “I don’t want to ruin this.”

In lieu of answering Hermione stepped back and began to unbutton her dress.

Draco froze for a moment, watching her hands move lower and lower, then finally he reacted. He stepped close and after helping her with the buttons, leaned down to kiss her again.

Gods.

He tasted like mint and cinnamon and sheer lust.

Together, they pushed the straps of her dress down and it dropped to the floor.

Hermione unclamped her bra, suddenly nervous that her breasts would leak milk all over the place, but then his hands were there and gods..

He cupped them, leaning down to press them together and kissing them. Hermione shivered at the look in his eyes.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmured. “I always knew you would be.”

Her cunt was so ridiculously wet, she was almost embarrassed for him to discover the mess she’d made of her knickers.

Instead she focused on helping him pull his shirt over his head, and then her hands were at the waistband of his joggers.

He was so hard, the head of his cock poked out the top and she sucked in a breath at the sight of it, swollen, flushed, dripping.

She looked up at him, and he was watching her closely, hands still weighing her breasts.

“I—it’s been a while,” he said, laughing a little. “Well, and it’s you. I’m just…” he stopped, his voice cracking a bit, “I’m so fucking hard for you, Granger.”

Finally freeing him from the confines of his zipper, they both groaned when she wrapped her hand around his erection.

Of course Draco Malfoy would have a perfect cock.

Long, thick, a slight curve. She wanted it in her mouth, she wanted him everywhere.

“Gods,” she whined, stroking him from base to tip, thrusting her palm over the sticky tip. “It’s so…”

Placing his hand over hers, Draco stilled her movements. Slowly, he cupped her cunt, running his thumb over the knicker covered seam of her. “When was the last time anyone kissed you here?”

Hermione froze. “Years,” she said softly. It wasn’t something Ron had ever particularly enjoyed, and he’d given up trying shortly after they were married.

Draco released a breath of laughter, almost disbelieving. He shook his head.

“What a fucking waste.”

Backing her toward the bed, he kissed her again, and cupped her face in his hands. “Granger, if you’d been mine all these years, I’d have had you for breakfast, lunch and dinner every fucking day of the week.”

She swallowed, eyes drifting down to where his cock jutted out of his fly, straining toward her.

Her cunt throbbed. As did her chest. 

But then he kissed her again and her eyes closed, hands sliding into the sleek hair at his nape.

His tongue curled delicately around hers and she shivered.

The man was, admittedly, quite good with his tongue.

Gently, he urged her down onto the bed and she scooted back, propping herself up on her elbows as he knelt at the edge.

His eyes were on hers as his hands slid up her thighs, soothing her, then his fingers drifted to her inner thighs, playing lightly against her skin, so so close to where she wanted him.

“Can I touch you here?” he asked, his pinky tracing a gentle line over her knicker-covered slit.

“Yes,” she gasped. When he didn’t move, seemingly in a trance as his finger traced over the cotton of her knickers, she added, “Please.”

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he breathed.

Hermione whimpered, wriggling her hips, wanting her knickers off.

Immediately, he moved to help her, pulling them down her thighs. The feel of the cool air of the room hitting her cunt made her clench.

Again, he stared so long that she grew self-conscious and cleared her throat.

His eyes darted up to hers from where they’d been staring at her cunt.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… you’re so fucking perfect. I—I honestly can’t believe you’re letting me see you like this.”

“Draco,” she whined bossily, reaching for him. “I need you.”

He caught her hand, kissing the palm in an open-mouthed suck.

“Oh I’m going to fuck you, Granger.” He chuckled, a little insanely and Hermione found herself nodding in agreement. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

His knuckles brushed her jaw. 

“But first—“ His eyes were so earnest, it made her positively drip—“I’m going to eat this pretty little pussy until your legs shake.”

Malfoy licked his lips then, eyes on her cunt and then finally—finally—he leaned in and gifted her with a long slow lick from her clit to her slit.

“Mm,” he murmured and did it again, laughing a little when she squeaked.

Merlin, his tongue was warm and slick. It had been so long since she’d felt so much pleasure.

As if he already knew, he pulled her legs over his shoulders and curled his tongue, pushing it into her clenching entrance, flicking it through her folds, swirled it around her clit.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuuuuuuck. 

She was so worked up, it took next to nothing for her legs to tremble, heat building in the base of her spine spreading to her womb.

When he sucked her clit into his mouth, her hand came up to smother her cries as she came, twitching and bucking into his mouth while he groaned into her cunt.

He let up just long enough for her to relax, then began swirling his tongue around her clit again and again, making her come again, so hard she saw stars. Planting a parting kiss to her clit and her inner thigh, he stood.

Hermione watched half lidded and soaking wet as he pushed his trousers down. His cock was impossibly hard and shiny from precum, and it bobbed as he moved.

She sat up, reaching for him, and he knelt onto the bed between her legs, kissing her stomach, then her breasts, rolling his tongue around each nipple. And then she felt a telltale tingling sensation.

For a moment, she was horrified. She hadn’t taken into consideration that her breasts would be full by now or that the stimulation might cause a trickle of milk to leak down the side of her breasts.

“Oh gods, I’m sorry. I—”

But the look in his eyes was pure awe, his eyes tracking the droplet, with huge pupils practically enrapt.

Then Draco licked it up, humming as he did so, lapping gently at her nipple and her head fell back on the bed.

“So fucking sweet,” he murmured sounding dazed and drunk, as he mouthed along the swells of her sensitive breasts, making his way up her neck and throat, finally kissing her lips.

She could feel him between her legs, hard and throbbing, nestled right against her lower lips. She squirmed a bit, trying to get him where she wanted him, and he rocked his hips against her, so the head of him nudged into her entrance.

“I’m going to fuck you, baby,” he breathed. “Are you ready for me?”

Honestly, Hermione had never felt ready for most of the things that life had thrown her way. But the almost deranged anticipation she had for the moment Draco’s cock was inside her? Yeah. She was fucking ready.

She reached down between them, and he swore when she pushed him deeper into her.

“Yes. Fuck me, Draco.”

With one quick snap of his hips, he was buried inside her, and they both groaned.

He stared down at her in wonder, lips parted, brows knitted, and she had to close her eyes to give herself a moment to reel over the intensity in his gaze.

It was almost too much, the perfect stretch of him filling her, her cunt greedily sucking him back in when he withdrew.

Oh fuck.

Sex had never been like this. Never once before this had her brain shut down quite so completely until all she knew was his smell, the sounds he made, the feel of his hips rolling into hers, and the exquisite drag of his cock.

Hermione keened, wrapping her legs around his hips, so her ankles rested just below his arse, encouraging him to rock harder, faster, deeper into her.

“Merlin, Granger,” he gasped. “You feel better than anything I’ve ever fucking felt. I—gods—I could fucking die like this.”

“Don’t do that,” she laughed shakily, already close to coming just from the few strokes of him inside of her. “Then we couldn’t do it again.”

He groaned at that, a low deep rumble from his chest. Capturing her hands, he pinned them to the mattress on either side of her head, and watched her face as he fucked her.

“Does that feel good, baby? Yeah? You gonna come on it for me?”

And yeah, she was.

Crying out to the ceiling, Hermione came hard, for the third time that night, this time clenching and squeezing around his cock.

“Good girl, that’s it. Show me how good it feels. Gods, yes, Hermione.”

When her vision began to clear, she could tell by the way his thrusts grew graceless and his breath ragged that he was close too.

“Come for me,” she whispered. “Come in me.”

His hips stuttered for a moment, as he watched her. “Are you sure? I can—”

“I’m on the potion. I’m sure.”

And with a few more deep grinding thrusts, Hermione had the exquisite pleasure of watching as Draco came inside her, his perfect face flushed, groaning and hissing and swearing, his warm cum filling her in pulse after pulse after pulse.

He stayed inside her after, rolling them both on their sides and pulling her close, hitching her leg up over his hip.

His lips brushed her eyes, her nose, her forehead, her cheeks, her lips, her chin.

His hands gently palmed her breasts, thumbs brushing her leaking nipples.

When Draco sucked milk from one thumb, Hermione was struck by a sudden morose thought that he might leave now that he had gotten what he wanted.

Gods, she really needed to get a grip.

“Draco?”

“Mm?”

“Why are you here? I mean—why specifically did you want to be my—well, nanny?”

He hesitated for a second, his hand gliding over her arse.

“Theo’s kept me up on you. He’s known about my—” Draco stopped and cleared his throat. “My rather devastating crush on you.”

“A crush. On me?”

“Yes. Quite severe I must say.”

“Since—when?”

“Eighth year was when I first admitted it.”

Hermione gaped but Draco kept talking.

“Theo thinks longer.”

He gave her a rueful grin. “After you testified on my behalf, I came looking for you at the Ministry, but of course you’d left with Weasley. I suffered all through Eighth year watching the two of you.”

An unexpectable tenderness spread through her chest, down to her core.

“And so I left. Went and partied my face off until I finally had enough.”

She brushed a strand of hair off his forehead, that strand that always distracted her when he looked down.

“And now you’re back.”

“I am.”

“Think you might stick around for a while?”

He took her face gently in his hands and kissed her, slowly but with clear intent.

“As long as you’d like. I’ve told you before, Granger. I’m completely at your disposal.”

Hermione smiled, running her hands along every inch of skin she could touch.

“Can we do that again?”

Maybe she was insane, jumping into this. She’d been separated from her husband for approximately ninety minutes and here she was, already addicted to coming all over another man’s cock. 

So he gave her the best orgasms of her life. That didn’t make him husband material.

***

Two Years Later

Hermione swished her wand, sealing another envelope and addressing it with a flourish.

There was a knock at her door, and she smiled as her husband and daughter entered her office.

Draco set Rose down, then leaned in to kiss Hermione slow and deep, nipping at her lip and making her shiver deliciously.

The baby in her belly chose that exact moment to somersault, and Hermione sighed happily.

Never in her life had she been so full—heart, cunt, and now her belly.

Even Ron was likely happier now, free from the confines of being Hermione Granger’s husband. He lived at the Burrow, still working for George at the joke shop, and the last Hermione had heard, he’d been on a few dates with Mandy Brocklehurst—a witch with both the time and the inclination to keep him on his best behavior.

He seemed to be trying to be a better father. Rose went to the Burrow every other weekend and came home to Hermione and Draco full of stories and thrilled to be back with them.

“Mummy, look! I made it for you!” Rose proudly presented Hermione with a cutout heart she’d made from some kind of craft paper. Draco had clearly charmed it to flash the words Best Mummy Ever!

“Daddy help me,” the three-year-old added with a proud grin, and Hermione’s heart melted.

Yes, Ron was a better father now than he’d once been, but Draco was a magnificent daddy. Patient and gentle. Loyal and loving.

And yes—fit as all get out.

The thought of him holding their new baby in just a few short months simultaneously had tears springing to her eyes and Hermione shifting a bit in her seat.

“Everything okay?” Draco asked, watching her closely. His silvery-grey eyes grew molten when he saw the way her gaze dropped to his lips before lifting to meet his.

“Yes.” She looked up at him through her lashes. “Thank you, Daddy,” she murmured.

He cupped her cheek, kissing her again with a soft groan. “Gods, I love it when you say that.”

His smile turned wicked when he noticed what Hermione was doing.

As she hauled Rose up into her lap, Draco picked up one of the marriage announcements she was working on, which featured a lovely photo of Draco and Hermione kissing with Rose between them, her head resting against Hermione’s bump.

The thought of how Ron might react when he learned that Draco Malfoy was now his daughter’s legal stepfather made her want to laugh.

He’d been horrified enough to learn about her pregnancy.

Hermione couldn’t help but smirk imagining Molly putting the photo on the refrigerator for Ron to see every morning.

“Do it,” her husband urged, likely reading her mind. “Send one to Weasley.” He grinned wolfishly and kissed the tip of her nose.

Hermione pulled him in by his collar for a real kiss. 

They’d eloped over the weekend, and though Hermione wasn’t one to show off, it felt like an occasion worthy of a little self-indulgence.

Despite Draco’s disdain for her ex-husband, the truth was that Hermione owed Ron a debt.

After all, it had been his idea to hire a hot nanny.

It just so happened that the one she’d hired had turned out to be exceptional daddy material.