Must Be Fate

It had been a stressful day for Draco.

Meetings all day, important client calls, filling out paperwork—all of it was quite difficult enough without the additional stress of his 4-year-old sister racing around the office.

Today marked the 3rd time this week he’d had to bring Lyra into the office due to his babysitter canceling last minute. Draco wanted nothing more than to be there for Lyra, but his work schedule didn’t allow him to be at home with her.

When she was at the office with him, it was hard for him to keep an eye on her, and you could forget about trying to get any work done. Yesterday afternoon, she refused to go down for her nap until he sang The Penguin Song for her. Three times.

While he had eventually gotten her to sleep, he had a feeling his coworkers’ not-so-subtle videos of his performance would someday come back to haunt him.

Oh well, Draco thought, that’s another battle for another day.

Thankfully during lunch with Theo and Blaise (and Lyra), Theo recommended a nanny company. He found a Ms. Fields on their website, and after reading her excellent reviews, he immediately scheduled an interview.

Ms. Fields was supposed to arrive around 6:00, so as soon as they got home, Draco started dinner while Lyra colored in her book.

He hoped desperately that things would work out. He wasn’t sure how much longer the current situation could go on. Draco thought of how Lyra had managed to get her hands on the remote for the conference room TV and the chaos that followed.

Yes, Draco concluded, I’m in way over my head.

At exactly 6 o’clock, the door rang.

She’s punctual, I’ll give her that.

Draco walked over, making sure to turn the stove off first, and opened the door.

“Welcome…“ The words died away as soon as he saw the woman in front of him.

Hermione Granger was standing on his doorstep.

“Hello, Mal—Mr. Malfoy. I’m sure you’re very confused right now, especially given that I’m not Ms. Fields.” She offered him a sheep smile. “Do you mind if I come inside? I can explain.”

Draco stood there dumbfounded before coming back to his senses.

This is the part where you say something back, dummy.

“O-of course, please come in. My apologies, I was just surprised to see you, that’s all.” Draco spluttered out.

He held the door open, letting Hermione make her way inside. Draco, still a bit shocked, gave the witch a quick once-over. She looked good. Better than good. His attention immediately went to her cherry red lips. Don’t stare, he reminded himself. Her hair had lost some of its trademark frizz, but it was still curly and tempting as ever.

Finally, he settled his gaze to look into her eyes. Staring into them now, he couldn’t help but remember the way they would brighten when she learned a new charm. What he wouldn’t have given to have the joy in her eyes directed at him.

Seriously, Draco? She’s only been here for two minutes and already you’re fantasizing again.

Fourth year had been a. . .distracted year for Draco. Practically all of his thoughts had centered around Hermione.

Reading a book? I wonder if Granger’s read this book. She probably has, she’s so bloody smart. It’d be annoying if it wasn’t so attractive.

Studying for exams? Maybe I could ask Granger if she’d like to study. Nah, she’s probably already in the library with that prat Krum.

She was on his mind constantly—not that it had started out that way. He hated Hermione at first. She was Muggle-born. She was supposed inferior to him, except she wasn’t. That first year, Hermione outsmarted, outperformed, and outshone Draco in every class. She knew the answer to every question, all the professors adored her, and Draco just couldn’t understand.

It made Draco angry, and what’s more it made Draco’s father angry. Lucius Malfoy expected nothing less than perfection, and for someone else to be top of the class, especially a Muggle-born, was completely unacceptable. Lucius made certain Draco was aware of his disappointment.

But every year, Hermione was the best. And so every year, Draco did everything to to make her and her friends miserable.

It was third year when Hermione had finally decided enough was enough. Draco had taken it too far, so she did the logical thing. She punched his lights out. And for the rest of the year, she didn’t hear a peep from Draco Malfoy.

That punch from third year had been something of a turning point for Draco, although didn’t magically transform into some saint overnight. In fact, he had been furious at first. That swot hit me, he had thought, How dare she?! But then, the longer thought about it, he honestly deserved it. He was being a real prat. And every night, he would think about the genuine disdain in Hermione’s eyes, and it bothered him. He didn’t like seeing her look at him that way.

So slowly, but surely, he started laying off Hermione and her friends. He stopped with the names and the snide remarks. Of course Crabbe and Goyle noticed his character changes and dropped him, but he was more than fine with that. They were both absolute idiots, and he was getting beginning to tire of them anyway.

After that, Draco had tried his best to clean up his act a little, not that he lost all of his Slytherin qualities or anything. He could recall fondly all the mischief he had gotten into with Theo and Blaise during the rest of their time at Hogwarts.

But all in all, Hermione’s right hook had been a real wake-up call for him. It caused him to reevaluate the fucked-up mindset his father had ingrained in him since birth. And when he took a good look at the person his father was—the person he wanted Draco to be—he realized just how much that was not what Draco wanted.

Asking for forgiveness wasn’t easy, but Draco wanted to clear the air with Potter and them. So he (albeit a little begrudgingly) apologized, and told them his regret about his actions. Potter was surprisingly the nicest about it, and even Weasley came around eventually.

Hermione, however, made him work for it. But interestingly enough, Draco didn’t mind one bit. He didn’t mind spending nearly all his Hogsmede weekends knitting hats and socks for S.P.E.W. if it meant he wouldn’t have to see her look at him the way she had that day she punched him.

Spending time with Hermione that year was also when Draco saw just how completely wrong he was about Muggle-borns. He also began to notice things about her. How alike they were. How stubborn she could be.

But more than that, he saw how caring and passionate she was. She was deeply loyal to her friends, and she wasn’t afraid to call him out on his bullshit. Hermione Granger pushed him to be better than he thought he could be. The more time he got to know her, the more he liked her. Needless to say, he fell hard and fast.

Draco Malfoy had a crush on Hermione Granger. A big, fat, make-you-blush-when-you-see-her crush. And did he ever do anything about it?

Nope.

He just watched her from a distance, enjoying her smiles and laughter from afar, even though he so desperately wanted to be the reason behind them. Because in Draco’s mind, no number of knitted hats or socks would ever be enough to make him worthy of her.

So he let her slip away. Never pursued her or saw her again after Hogwarts. That had been nearly 6 years ago. But he still thought of her sometimes.

Okay, fine, a little more than sometimes.

But then, Lyra came into his life. His only focus became making sure she was safe and happy. Besides, Draco had come to terms with the likelihood that he would probably never see Hermione again.

Or so he thought. Because here she was. Standing in his living room.

“Again, sorry for the confusion. Normally we would have communicated the situation to you, but our system was temporarily down,” she explained as they made their way to the kitchen. “Don’t worry, it’s back up now.” She chuckled awkwardly.

“No, it’s quite alright,” Draco assured her. “So where is Ms. Fields?”

“Ah yes, she was just booked by another couple this afternoon as a permanent nanny. In these kind of situations, the agency sends another potential nanny and an email informing you of the change of plans, but…” she trailed off, looking back at Draco. A slight flush dusted her cheeks when she realized she was repeating herself.

“But your system was down,” Draco finished for her.

“Yes, precisely. So they sent me instead. Umm,” she hesitated, picking nervously at one of her curls, “if this is strange for you in any way or if you’d prefer someone else, that can easily be arranged. Just so you know.”

“No!” Draco objected, definitely louder than necessary. “I mean, no. It’s not strange. I know we weren’t extremely close at school, but I’d like to think I know you fairly well, so the thought of you being Lyra’s nanny doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, it would be a comfort knowing it was you looking after her.”

He looked up at Hermione, and found a small smile on her face. He couldn’t help but return the sentiment before looking away again, moving to set the table. Hermione was immediately on her feet.

“Please, Mr. Malfoy, let me help.”

Draco halted at her address to him.

“You can call me Draco,” he said, as he handed her the utensils. “That’s my first name, just so you know. I wasn’t sure you were aware, considering you only referred to me as Malfoy for 7 years,” he added, a slight smirk on his face.

She rolled her eyes and gave him that all-too familiar look that said “I’m aware, you blithering idiot”.

“Well forgive me, Draco, I was simply trying to be professional.” She grabbed the last dish from the counter, placing it on the table. “And I only called you Malfoy because you called me Granger.”

“Well I’ll let you in on a little secret, Granger. I only called you that because I knew it set you on edge, and watching you get flustered was just too fun.” Draco smirked.

He probably shouldn’t have said that—her mouth fell open slightly and her eyes widened—but it was like he said; watching her get flustered was just too much fun. Before Hermione could say anything else, a little blonde haired girl ran into the room.

She was the spitting image of Draco, with silver eyes and blonde locks. But something about her face was unmistakably Narcissa.

Hermione immediately broke into a beaming grin. “Well, you must be Lyra! I’m Hermione, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” The witch had kneeled down in front of the young girl, and extended a hand out for a shake.

Lyra studied her for a moment, as if trying to discern how trustworthy she was. Something about Hermione must have pleased her, because she returned the smile and placed her tiny hand into Hermione’s.

She giggled before running over to her brother, clinging to his leg. “Drakey, Drakey! She’s pretty.”

Draco simply smiled at his sister and bent down to pick her up. “I know,” he whispered, although not quietly enough to be missed by Hermione.

He glanced back to Hermione, who was staring at him like she wasn’t sure who he was.

Way to make things awkward, Draco. Remember, she’s here for Lyra.

“Well, who’s ready for dinner?” He said, breaking the tension. Lyra was quick to answer with an “I am! I am!”, and Hermione agreed as well.

The rest of dinner went by smoothly, with the Lyra there to focus on. Draco took notice of how excellent Hermione was with his sister and how well Lyra responded to her. After dinner, Draco tucked Lyra in bed, and Hermione and Draco went and sat in the living room.

“She loves you already,” Draco said. “I mean I’m not surprised, of course. But you just seem to understand her so well. Some of the other babysitters we’ve had in the past didn’t quite get her.”

She smiled to herself, before looking back to Draco. “I guess it’s easy to understand her since she’s so much like you. And for the record, I love her already, too.”

“Well then, if you have no objections, the job is absolutely yours.”

“Really?” She asked, wide grin immediately taking over her face. “I mean, yes! Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” Draco said, standing up. “How did I get lucky enough to have the Hermione Granger as my nanny?”

Hermione stood up to face him. “Must have been fate,” she offered, stretching out her hand the way she had to Lyra early that night.

Draco grasped it and tried to memorize the feeling of her warm palm against his. Looking her in the eyes, he saw that sparkle of curiosity shining once again, but it was directed at him this time.

“Yes,” he agreed, “must be fate.”