A/N: I spend a lot of time writing about the Malfoys because I love them and I am a Slytherin and the fic will be largely from Draco's perspective. Buuuuut, Imma be fair and give Ron a chance here! Also, I'll try and make this the last chapter where nothing happens.


Ron Weasley loses another nanny. Blaise promotes Gryffinwhoring. Narcissa and Lucius discuss Draco's future.


"Mona, please!"

The young witch stopped at the front door, fatigue lining her soft features. She'd first walked through that door all made-up and fragrant and bursting with femininity. She was leaving it sluggish and frumpy but by the Gods she was leaving.

"'M terribly sorry, Mr. Weasley, but I can'nie live like this anymore! There's spiders in me oatmeal, paint in me laundry," she lowered her voice consiprationally, "They put toads in me Unmentionables!"

"I get that they can be right little buggers but – give us another chance, yeah?"

She balked at the large, warm hand at her wrist and gave in to the vibrant blue eyes desperately boring into her.

When the agency assigned her to Ronald Weasley as a live-in nanny, she'd thanked her lucky stars. Tall, rugged Ron Weasley with his broad shoulders and hard muscles and sharp features. The hearthrob Keeper of the Chudley Canons. She'd been to all the games, she'd followed his surprisingly amicable divorce. The nude Canons-For-Charity calendar on her wall at home was always stuck on March, Ron Weasley's red hair and bright eyes hovering over her bed.

Mona knew she was cute and soft and bouncy where Hermione Granger was all sharp, sassy lines. But maybe cute and soft and bouncy was what Ronald Weasley wanted. She'd come in, win the heart of his lively children and – by extension – the heart of the man himself. One late night, he'd cradle the back of her head and ask her to sleep in his room, just like in her novels. The children would call her "Mama". They'd fight over something stupid and he'd hurriedly rush over to her house. She'd have tamed the savage children and earned her way into their family.

What she hadn't planned for was learning why the Weasley-Granger children were blacklisted across every child-minding agency in Wizarding London.

As she looked into Ron Weasley's eyes, she felt herself willingly drop her bag. Maybe she could try again...

As the embroidered duffel touched the ground, it exploded, sending clothes and undergarments all about the entryway in a cloud of glittery colour. A Weasley's Wizarding Weezes wrapper floated before her feet.

"...Goodbye, Mr. Weasley."


"You work. At Hogwarts."

The handsome head in the fireplace canted to the side, "I'd have told you eventually, Draco."

"Oh really? When?"

"When I was sure you wouldn't hex me to high Heaven."

"So you would never have told me."

Zabini gave a smooth chuckle, "And derive Pansy of her big reveal? Perish the thought. I take it you know about Longbottom?"

"I'm still in shock. How long did you know?"

"Long enough – chap got me my job, you know. Doesn't make it any less surreal. Nor does it make the ring any less garish."

Draco let a small laugh escape, "It's very Pansy," he sighed, "Poor Longbottom."

"The man's doing cartwheels on the moon, he's so happy. Which reminds me: why don't you try your hand at it? Snatching up a Gryffindor of your very own?"

"Have you?" Draco shot back.

Zabini's lips crept into a small, suggestive smile, "It's very beneficial. And from what I can see, you've turned into quite the bombshell. It would be good to have you back here."

"'Here' being London? Or Hogwarts? Or some other island you haven't told me about?"

"Touché, Malfoy. I'll keep my ear to the ground and promise me you'll consider it. I won't take no for an answer."

"Would you look at that my soufflé has finished," was the deadpan reply before Draco ended the call.

Really, he was just fine here. Why throw that all away?


Lucius slid into the bedsheets, opening his arm for his wife to slide into as they reached for their books. The change of lifestyle had rekindled the fires of their relationship – but today had been a long day, and neither of them were willing to end it with any sort of exertion.

"I'm worried about Draco," Narcissa sighed, turning the page of her novel.

"Why? Did something happen?" Lucius' eyes never left the page, but his brows furrowed.

"That's just it, nothing has. Our poor boy stays here like a fading star while his friends live."

"The boy could leave if he wanted to," Lucius turned the page.

"And go where? Do what? We're the most unpopular family in the Wizarding World. But staying here, forgotten? That's no life to live."

Lucius set his book on the bedside table before turning to view his wife. She looked every bit as beautiful as the day he married her.

"Narci, do you want to go back?" that was his old life – but for her, he would.

"Oh darling, no," she lowered her novel, "I want to spend the rest of my life here, with you. I just...want our son to be young and stupid and beautiful, like we were. He deserves a chance in the world, moreso than we ever did."

"You're right, my dove," Lucius placed a soft kiss into her hairline, "But we can't make him leave if he doesn't want to. We can only hope for something to come up."