A/N: These characters belong to J.K. Rowling…duh.

The Nanny

Prologue

Hermione Weasley pressed her thumb to the red button, instantly ending the phone call on her mobile. She rested the tiny phone on her desk, and propped her elbows onto the hard oak. Her head fell into her hands.

I can't believe she did it again! Twice in one week! No wonder Fitzgerald is freaking out! I could just strangle Ron…

She was shaking her head and muttering to herself angrily when there was a brisk knock at her door. Her head shot up. Then she smiled.

"Hello sister-o-mine," Ginny Potter walked into her office, straightening her navy blue robes. Her ginger hair fell over her shoulders and down her back in loose curls and her brown eyes shone brightly.

"You know we're not really sisters, right?" Hermione sighed, sitting back in her desk chair and smiling at her sister in law.

"Eh, close enough," Ginny waved her hand in front of her, fingering a piece of loose parchment on Hermione's desk. "So, what's up?" She took a seat in a leather armchair and crossed her legs in front of her.

"It's Rose!" Ginny's ears perked up.

"What about my niece? What did she do this time?"

Just then Ron Weasley and Harry Potter entered the small office, shouting greetings. They both wore plain black Ministry-issued Auror robes, smiles on their faces.

"Hello, Love," Ron moved around her desk and kissed her squarely on the mouth while Harry greeted his wife in the same fashion. Hermione smiled and began shuffling papers around on her desk. She pocketed her mobile and stood.

"Do you think we could do lunch another day?" She asked the grinning couple in front of her. She heard Ron scoff next to her, and Harry's grinned widened.

"A little quickie over the lunch hour, Hermione? That's so unlike you!" Harry laughed as her face became pink.

"I'm game," said Ron, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her close to him.

"Actually, I've just gotten a call from Headmaster Fitzgerald," Hermione looked pointedly at Ron and he groaned.

"What did that old goat want?"

"Rose," she said simply, pulling her bag from behind her desk and picking up a manila folder off her desk. She put it in and smiled when her husband groaned from his spot perched on the edge of her desk.

"What'd she do this time?" said Harry, trying not to laugh.

"She blew up all of the milk cartons at lunch!" she sighed, exasperated. "And, the computers are fried."

"I swear that girl gets more calls home than the twins did their whole first year of Hogwarts," Ginny muttered, folding her arms over her chest.

"Yes, well, I'm almost positive she's going to get kicked out this time." Hermione's face contorted in anger.

"We shouldn't have sent them to a muggle school in the first place," Ron muttered, rubbing his hands over his face.

"Yes, well, St. Peterson's Academy is the best primary school in London and don't you want the best education for your children, Ronald?" Hermione turned her gaze onto her husband, her eyes narrowing.

"Of course!" Ron cried, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"Um, we're just going to go," said Ginny, pulling on Harry's hand so he'd follow her. "Why don't you lot come over for dinner, yeah?"

Hermione's face softened as she turned to Ginny. "Sure, Gin. See you around six?"

"Great!"

Alone, she turned her steely gaze on her husband. "What? It's not my fault…"

"It never is, Ron," she said softly, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Just," she started after a moment, finally turned to him but still not meeting his eyes, "here." She pulled out a bag of muggle clothes she had kept under her desk since the first call home about Rose nearly a year ago. She opened it and tossed a pair of jeans and a nice jumper to her husband, before pulling out some clothes for herself.

"We have to meet with Fitzgerald in twenty minutes."

They changed their clothes quickly and twenty minutes later were seated in the Headmaster's office in St. Peterson's Academy. The office was nice…much too posh for Hermione's taste. The armchair she was sitting in, she was sure, had cost more than the car she and Ron owned.

"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley." Derek Fitzgerald was a tall, thin balding man with blonde hair and gray eyes shielded by small wire-rimmed glasses. His suit was neatly pressed and his tie had to have been made of silk. Hermione thought it must've cost as much as the chair.

"Mr. Fitzgerald," Ron nodded, courteously, though Hermione saw him gripping the armrest of the chair, his knuckles white. The last time they'd been in his office, Ron had nearly punched the man.

Hermione nodded in greeting as the man lowered himself into a burgundy leather chair behind a large, bare desk only a portable computer off to the side.

"I believe we spoke on the phone, Mrs. Weasley. Rose has been exhibiting more…strange behavior," he pulled his glasses away from his face and rubbed at his eyes before sliding them back onto his nose. "As you can understand, this is a frustrating situation for me as Headmaster. A child's education is my top priority…however – "

"You're kicking her out, aren't you?" Hermione cut in, vehemently. She leaned forward in her chair, her face angry.

"We have to think of the safety of the other children here, Mrs. Weasley. I know your situation is…unique," he paused as if searching for his next words. Derek Fitzgerald had been born a squib, and had focused his life on helping wizarding children coexist in a muggle community such as primary school. He came highly recommended by a few people at the Ministry, but – as of right now – Hermione could not understand why. He knew of their wizard status, and seemed, more often than not, to use it against them.

"…and now Hugo is showing signs…"

"What's he done?" Ron perked up. Hermione rolled her eyes. Hugo hadn't yet shown signs of magic, and Ron had been worried. Hermione shrugged it off.

"He burst two light bulbs when Mrs. Sorier wouldn't allow him to hold the class pet without washing his hands first. He's got a temper, that one. Couldn't imagine where he gets it." He eyes wandered to Ron, who gave him a menacing look.

"Look," he sighed. "I don't want any trouble. I'm sure there are great wizarding primary schools that are equipped to handle your children. Their little outbursts are causing too many questions for them to be able to remain here."

"Fine," Hermione loudly stated, rising out of her seat. "Where are my children?"

"In the lobby." He pointed at the door he'd come from and rose with Ron. Hermione turned on her heel and walked away. Fitzgerald stuck out his left hand to Ron, but Ron gave him a dirty look and followed his wife.

"Daddy!" a small replica of himself dove at him. Ron caught his son and lifted the five year old up into the air.

"Hello, little man."

Hugo kissed his cheek loudly and Ron set him down, turning to his daughter. She was the spitting image of Hermione, put her bushy hair was red. She was sitting in a leather chair waiting, her feet barely dangling over the side.

When she'd seen her parents, she slowly pulled herself out of the chair and stood, her hands clasped together, a look of worry in her brown eyes.

Ron walked over to her, where she'd stood next to Hermione, and crouched down to eye level with the seven year old. He gave her a half smile and a nod.

"Oh daddy!" She flung herself at him and buried her face in his neck. He lifted her up and carried her out of the room. Hermione took her backpack and Hugo's hand and followed them out of the school.

"Take a good look, kids," Hermione told them. "You're never going back there."

"This is all my fault!" Rose cried, clinging to her father. "I didn't mean to, I swear!"

"It's okay, Rosie. We know you didn't mean to. These things happened," Ron whispered lovingly, smoothing down her unruly hair as she sobbed onto his shoulder.

"You got her? Let's get out of here." Hermione muttered as they exited the gated courtyard and onto the street. They walked a few meters to an alleyway and crouched behind a dumpster.

"See you in a few," Ron muttered before apparating away with Rose still clutched to him.

"Are you ready, sweetie?" Hermione smiled down to her son, who instinctively wrapped himself up in her embrace. She looked down at the top of his ginger hair. She hated apparating with them, but she hadn't had time to go all the way home and take the car and they were in a purely muggle part of London, so there were no available fireplaces.

She felt the boy nod into her neck, and sighed. She pulled out her wand and apparated them to their back stoop.