A/N: My name, unfortunately, is not J.K. Rowling nor is it Charlotte Brontë. All characters belong to their rightful authors.

Hi guys,

Someone on tumblr requested a Dramione drabble in which one of them was a nanny. I have been wanting to write this story for ages, so I decided to make it a short story instead of a drabble.

This story has 6 chapters and is already finished, so I will upload one chapter a day!

I want to thank my lovely beta, hmweasley, for doing such a fabulous job!

That's it, folks! I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

Love,

Kelly


Chapter One: Curiouser And Curiouser

To say that Hermione Granger had a rough upbringing would be an understatement. First of all, her aunt had left her at a young witches school to be schooled in the art of being a proper witch and to learn how to be far less spiteful. She had lost her parents, who had been Muggle dentists, at a rather young age. And last, but most certainly not least, she had been bullied by other students because she studied hard and became the top of her class fast. They had called her many ugly things and most of the teachers had let them. Even better, the Headmistress had encouraged their behaviour because she was a Mudblood and should be put in her place every now and then. "Lest she thinks she's a worthy member of our society," her Headmistress would snipe.

The only reason she had been taught magic at all, Hermione thought, was because of Miss McGonagall. She had always treated her fairly and never called her any ugly names.

She had been called many things over the years; a liar, an orphan, an ugly brat and worst of all, a Mudblood by her peers, by the elite of the wizarding world. What she hadn't been called yet, though, was a breath of fresh air.

Ms. Black gave her a kind smile as she guided Hermione through their majestic hallway, to what seemed to be their living room. If a room like that could even be called such a thing. With its high windows and ceilings, Malfoy Manor was most certainly a sight to behold.

"The master is rarely here," Ms. Black confided in her as she opened another door with a flourish. This one had a more office-like feel to it, and Hermione relaxed almost instantly. She had spent many days studying in McGonagall's offices after all, so this felt like familiar ground to her.

"What do you mean, Ms. Black? He's rarely here? Is he not involved in his child's upbringing?" Hermione sat down after Ms. Black waved her permission for her to do so.

"Oh, no," she laughed uneasily. "The gents in these circles rarely do. After Mrs. Malfoy..." Ms. Black gave a heavy sigh, as if she could exile the sadness in her eyes if she only sighed loud enough. "It's better if the master discusses this with you himself. It's not comely for a lady to gossip."

Hermione couldn't say she disagreed, even though every atom in her body yearned for more information on the elusive Mr. Malfoy. She knew that he had attended Hogwarts, but since they upheld Grindelwald's philosophy after the First Wizarding War, she hadn't had the chance to attend it herself. She had heard, from Miss McGonagall actually, that it used to be a magical place. That once upon a time everyone had been accepted to Hogwarts, everyone who had wanted to learn magic at least. But after Tom Riddle, or Lord Voldemort as he liked to be called, had killed the Headmaster, Dumbledore, all the 'good' teachers had fled the school and had hid in schools for young witches and wizards like Hermione's. There they would still train Muggleborns in secret and harbor them. It was just her luck that she had ended up at the school with only a few Muggleborn sympathisers, like McGonagall.

Now Hogwarts wasn't a safe place anymore for the "impure" of blood, so she hadn't had the chance to meet Mr. Malfoy yet, which reminded her...

"Will me being Muggleborn be a problem?" she asked politely, even though she wanted to throttle someone with the unfairness of it all. She had been called the brightest witch of her age by all of her teachers, save for her Headmistress, and yet the better part of wizarding society wouldn't give her the time of day if they knew of her heritage. Some of them even accused her of having robbed a "real witch" of her magic, which was absurd. When things got that far, Hermione usually made herself scarce. Nothing good came after that kind of statement.

So she had always been upfront with her future employer about who and what she was. There was nothing to be ashamed of, she heard Miss McGonagall say in her head. She was twice the witch of nearly everyone her age, and she should be proud of her abilities.

Ms. Black gave her a kind smile. "Don't let appearances fool you," she said not unkindly. "Mr. Malfoy, well, he is quite fond of his masks and the false sense of safety they provide."

That didn't sound ominous at all, Hermione thought. Nor did it answer her question. Her eyes followed Ms. Black as she paced around the room. She hadn't seen the woman use her wand yet. Nor had she called upon the House Elf, which Hermione assumed they had. She decided to file those questions away for a later date.

"What about my student?" she inquired after several seconds of uncomfortable silence. She gratefully accepted the cup of tea and took a careful sip before putting it on the table between them.

"Scorpius is a bright boy, albeit a bit headstrong." She shook her head with a faint smile. "His education has fallen a bit behind the last few years, but he's a quick study, I assure you. He has the Malfoy charm down pat though, so be sure not to let him too close to your heart, Miss Granger, for he will most certainly break it. But then again," she said absentmindedly, " that goes for both of my boys."

Hermione gazed at the lady in front of her and wondered if she was the infamous Andromeda Tonks, née Black. Rumour was that after rioting wizards had killed her husband and daughter, she had taken on her maiden name again for safety reasons. Hermione couldn't help but think that Ms. Black's last statement felt like the start of something new, something that was probably going to scare her witless.


Hermione had been teaching the young Scorpius for six months now, and not once had she met the child's father. She thought it was rather irresponsible for a father to abandon his son in such a way, but who was she to judge? In addition to Transfiguration and potions, Scorpius had also shown an interest in the Muggle classics. She had been surprised at first, but she was nonetheless pleased. Scorpius didn't share the views of modern wizarding society and Hermione couldn't have been luckier to have such an eager, sassy but kind student such as him. He could be a little brat at times, sure, but then again, which 13-year-old boy wasn't?

It had taken Hermione quite a while to earn his trust, but in the end, she had managed to do just that. Scorpius Malfoy wasn't someone who trusted easily, and with good reason. You could never be too careful in the world they now lived in.

"But why would Peter Pan kill his own Lost Boys?" Scorpius asked her as he stared at his cup with such a foul scowl on his face that Hermione couldn't help but smile at his frustration.

"Well," Hermione replied, "we aren't sure if he really did kill them. Mr. Barrie writes that Peter 'thins them out' once they get too old or when there were too many of them. That could mean pretty much anything, Scorpius."

"It's such a cruel book. I cannot wait to be grown up and have a house of my own," the lad said decidedly. "I don't ever want to go to Neverland."

Hermione grinned at his childish enthusiasm. "Pray tell, where would you live then? What will you live off?"

Scorpius gave Hermione a cocky grin if she ever saw one. "I don't know if you noticed, Miss, but I am a Malfoy. Money isn't a problem for us."

Hermione laughed delightedly. "Well, young Mr. Malfoy, I'll have you know that neither your last name nor your money will get you out of your Transfiguration assignment. I'm going for a walk and when I return, I want to see you transfigure this cup into a brown field mouse and back again."

She felt like they had made some big strides in Scorpius' schooling in the short time they'd had together, and he most certainly did show promise in Transfiguration. He was struggling with turning a living thing back into an inanimate object, but Hermione was confident that he would get it before the day was over.

He did look a bit nervous though, Hermione noticed.

"If you're able to do this spell properly, I'll lend you my copy of Muggle fairy tales by the Grimm Brothers," she promised.

Hermione then left a determined looking student behind, the promise of strange and forbidden fairy tales urging him on.

She loved walking and exploring the grounds. Malfoy Mansion was a rather isolated house, surrounded by woods with no soul around for miles. Hermione had decided that she liked the fake sense of peace it provided. It was as if the last war hadn't influenced these lands at all. It was a comforting lie at least.

Hermione tried to flatten her insane hair as she crossed one of the property's many bridges. She pulled her jumper closer to her body and cursed her need for fresh air. She had forgotten to bring an actual jacket with her, which wasn't that much of a luxury as it was a necessity in this English autumn weather.

"At least it isn't raining yet," she muttered to herself as she kicked at a heap of leaves.

"You do know, I hope, that talking to oneself is the first sign of madness?" a voice above her remarked.

The first thing Hermione noticed, after she had spun around and looked up, was the typical blond hair she had been told every true Malfoy had. Second, was his face, and there was no doubt in her mind that the handsome wizard on his broom was Scorpius' father. They were so alike in their handsomeness that Hermione was simply stunned as she watched Draco Malfoy descend.

"Hippogriff got your tongue?" He smirked arrogantly.

Hermione bristled at his tone.

"Not at all," she replied sassily as she watched him step closer to her. "I was merely enjoying a decent conversation in my head, you see. I find the company in there rather stimulating."

Unlike the company I have here, she didn't say.

Mr. Malfoy waggled his eyebrows in response. At least Hermione now knew where Scorpius had gotten his mannerisms. from. "Do you wish to tell me why you're on my property, Miss...?"

"Granger, Sir. Pleasure."

Mr. Malfoy switched his broom from his right hand to his left, as he gave her the onceover. When she had apparently earned his approval, he nodded.

"I'm sure it's bound to be, Miss Granger." He turned around to leave again and mounted his broom. "I would suggest you return to the Manor. It looks like it will be dark soon."

Without a single backward glance, he pushed himself off the ground and away he flew.

It wasn't until she started making her way back to the house that she realised how odd it was for him to travel by broom without any bags and with such a stylish suit to boot. That couldn't possibly be comfortable on a broomstick, right?

"Curiouser and curiouser," she quoted her favourite book in a murmur.