Chapter Text
Knock knock knock
The hammer of the Chief Warlock from the Wizengamot sounded loudly through the room. Narcissa had a hard time not flinching when the wizard glared down at her. Exactly five years after the war, she had been summoned to appear for the court to be tried for her crimes during the war. During that time, she had divorced Lucius who’d been sentenced to serve a lifetime in Azkaban, once more taking the Black family name.
She was one of the last to appear before the Wizengamot. They had tried the Death Eaters first and the witches and wizards who had actually taken lives or had no mitigating circumstances that made for a lesser punishment. None other than the Boy Who Lived had spoken in her defence after all. So Narcissa had been confined to Malfoy Manor, with limited freedom, awaiting her trial. Her punishment. So she could finally move on with her life.
‘The Wizengamot has decided to condemn Narcissa Black, formerly Malfoy, to a work sentence of one year. She is to perform a different muggle profession for each month without any financial gain. Failure to do so will result in a sentence at Azkaban prison instead.’
The blonde witch closed her eyes. It was the only way to keep herself grounded and avoid the upcoming panic attack. It was pure shock that prevented her from standing up and pleading for a prison sentence instead. It took her awhile to realize the wizard was still talking to her.
‘You are to report to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement where you will be assigned a probation officer. This witch or wizard will further inform you of the proceedings. Case closed.’
The final knock of the hammer drowned out the sound of the sob that escaped her throat. She felt numb when the guards hoisted her from her seat and released her from her shackles. It had been humiliating to say the least, but now the shackles seemed like nothing compared with her actual punishment. Narcissa felt her legs start moving, not really registering where she was going. It was only until the clerk at the reception asked her what he could do for her, that Narcissa came back to reality.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I asked what I could do for you, Madame Malfoy.’
‘Black. It’s Black. I’m here to see my probation officer?’
‘Right,’ the wizard replied before flicking through his notes, ‘That’ll be Miss Granger. She’s in the last office on the right.’
Narcissa nodded. The name vaguely rang a bell, but she was still a bit numb from recent events. Her arm moved on autopilot and knocked on the brown, oak door in front of her. The voice that told her to come in was also vaguely familiar. The blonde witch frowned. It was only when she stood in front of a grown-up Hermione Granger with brown, curly instead of bushy hair that she connected the dots.
‘You? You’re my probation officer.’
The young witch raised an eyebrow, ‘Trust me, Madame Black. I don’t like it either, but nobody else was willing to take the job.’
‘I’m flattered.’
‘Please have a seat so I can guide you through the procedures.’
Narcissa stiffly lowered herself into the seat Hermione pointed at and muttered a polite thank you at the cup of tea that appeared in front of her. The brunette didn’t look up as she was busy retrieving the required forms. When she finally found it, Hermione brushed her fingers through her hair with an exasperated sigh.
‘Very well. You are to report in my office every day before work. You’ll hand in your wand and sign a form of attendance. You are to travel to work the muggle way. Magic is not allowed and that means all kinds of magic. Wandless or otherwise. I will be visiting regularly on unannounced moments. If there are any problems, you must contact me. After work, you must report back here to sign another form and to retrieve your wand. You’ll work five days a week and are confined to Malfoy Manor during the weekends. Any questions?’
‘Only one,’ Narcissa drawled, ‘What is the muggle way to kill oneself?’
Hermione rolled her eyes, ‘Very amusing, Madame Black, but I do suggest you take this seriously if you ever want to have a normal life again.’
Narcissa scoffed. As if her life had ever been normal. She’d been a prisoner all her life. A prisoner of etiquette, a prisoner of pureblood-expectations, a prisoner of a loveless marriage, a prisoner of her own house and now a prisoner of the Wizengamot. She would never live the life she wanted to live and she had made amends with that. At the blonde’s silence, Hermione pursed her lips.
‘I almost forgot. You’ll receive muggle money from me each time you report for the day. That way you can pay for public transport.’
This annoyed Narcissa and she couldn’t help but snarl, ‘You’re finding this very amusing, are you not, Miss Granger?’
But two sad, amber eyes looked up at her as the witch shook her head, ‘Not at all, Madame Black. I’ve been fighting for a better justice system the day I started working here. But it’s a slow process and they’re adamant to teach you a lesson. Believe me when I say, I find no joy in this.’
Narcissa was taken aback by the woman's honest answer. Despite never deliberately reading someone’s minds, she was always prone to sniffing out someone’s intentions and she could register no dishonesty in the Gryffindor witch. Her shoulder slumped a little bit, barely noticeable for the naked eye before she recollected herself. Always the epitome of control for she was Narcissa Black.
‘So, what’s my first job?’
Hermione flicked through the papers, ‘You’re to work at the register in a muggle grocery store called Aldi.’
Narcissa blinked. What?
***
Monday morning came round all too soon for Narcissa’s liking and she found herself standing in Hermione’s office at 9am staring at a garish polyester monstrosity that Miss Granger was insisting she had to wear. 'Honestly, Madame Black, it’s part of the job. You have to wear it.'
'I see no reason why. It’s hideous! How am I ever to show my face in society again if I’m seen in this… this… garment?' She quirked a perfectly shaped eyebrow at the blue shirt and trousers laid out before her. Garment almost certainly wasn’t the correct word for it but it was the best she could manage at this point.
Hermione huffed a sigh, wishing she’d bought that second coffee on her way into the office after all, and tried again. 'It’s a muggle shop. I doubt any of your pureblood friends will be popping in to do some discount shopping.'
'Discount?' She had to refrain from twitching at the word. 'You mean it’s not even a high-end store? Well, I should have gathered that from the uniform…' She nudged at the top with her wand as if afraid to touch it. 'What kind of cruel punishment is this? Are the Wizengamot hoping I’ll die of shame before I ever return to society?'
'Oh just put the sodding uniform on!' Hermione snapped irritably before adding, in a softer voice 'Your shift starts in an hour and we need to get you acquainted with your new route and transport.'
Taken aback by Hermione’s waspishness, she begrudgingly waved her wand so that her forest green robes were replaced by the itchy muggle fabric. Repressing a shudder at the feel of it she asked 'Well then, what’s next Miss Granger?'
The brunette directed her to a piece of parchment on her desk and said 'I’ll need you to sign this attendance sheet and then give me your wand for the day. Then we’ll go over muggle money and, for today at least, I’ll accompany you to the store.'
Narcissa declined the quill that was offered to her (though it was a fine eagle feathered specimen she noted) and produced her own white peacock feather quill to sign her name on the parchment. Handing over her wand to the muggleborn was an unnerving experience and the second it left her hand she wanted to snatch it back, feeling like she was left bare even though she was more than capable of producing wandless magic.
'Right.' Hermione said, pulling a small pink purse that bore a cartoon cat and the words ‘Hello Kitty’ from inside her robes. At Narcissa’s questioning look she gave an apologetic shrug. 'It was the only one I could find at short notice. They don’t exactly have a big budget for this I’m afraid.'
Yes Narcissa thought, that much is clear from this uniform…
'We’ll need to get the bus to your store so I’ll just run through the different coins and notes with you and then we’ll head out.' Hermione said, tipping out an assortment of coins and tattered notes onto the table. 'These,' she pointed at the notes 'are for your bigger denominations. They’ve all got numbers on them so they’re pretty self-explanatory. Ten pounds, five pounds, you get it.'
Narcissa nodded, that seemed simple enough.
'The coins are in something we call pence or pennies. A hundred of those to the pound, and again they’ve all got numbers on them too but you’re better off telling them apart by the shape and size, it’s just quicker. Fifty pence is this one.' She held up an angular shaped silver coin with seven sides for Narcissa to see. 'Then it goes down to twenty, ten, five, and then two and one pence.' She pointed at the coins in turn, each of them different in some way.
The blonde witch frowned and picked up a tiny circular silver coin. 'But why would your five pence,' the word didn’t quite feel right in her mouth, 'be smaller than the one and two pence? And why is the two pence so big? Surely it and the one should be significantly smaller? There’s absolutely no logic to this!' She slammed the coin down on the desk and looked at the muggleborn expecting some kind of defiance but found only faint amusement.
'It’s a weird system, I know. But it’s what we’ve got to work with. I've included a contact galleon for you too, by the way. If anything goes drastically wrong touching this will get a message to me. But I only want it used in emergencies, okay?'
Narcissa nodded, still a little baffled by the muggle coins, but confident she could work out how to use the galleon. At least she knew for sure what that coin was, she'd handled enough of them after all, they weren't exactly a rare thing in the Malfoy and Black vaults.
'Now we better get going, we have a bus to catch if you’re to make it in time.'
***
The bus journey was… an experience. One that Narcissa really wished she wouldn’t have to repeat on a near daily basis for the next month. Hermione had handled the transaction with the driver, buying her a weekly ticket so that she had time to get to grips with muggle money before next having to purchase a ticket. Narcissa had, perhaps foolishly she now realised, expected someone to show them to their assigned seats so had stood stock still until Hermione had grabbed her arm and hauled her up the bus. The brunette pushed her into a window seat before flopping down next to her with an exasperated huff.
'This isn’t a chauffeur service, Narcissa, it’s public transport!'
Narcissa bristled at the use of her first name but refrained from commenting. Choosing instead to stare out of the window and contemplate just how awful this Aldi would be.
No amount of staring out the window could have prepared her for the sights and sounds of Aldi though. Upon reaching the store she promptly decided that death would be the easiest option. Perhaps she could arrange to be hit by the bus that brought her here? She didn’t know what was worse – being surrounded by loud muggles, the glaringly bright lights of the store, the atrocious uniform (which she was now determined to burn), or the incessant beeping that seemed to fill the place.
'Miss Granger,' she turned to the younger witch a mere instant after entering the store, panic filling her usually serene eyes. 'I beg of you, do not leave me here! I will surely lose my mind.'
'You’ll be fine!' Hermione cheerfully insisted whilst thinking that Narcissa may well be right on that point. Already she could see a twitch forming at the corner of Narcissa’s right eye every time the checkouts beeped. She steered her through the store until they met a young man by the checkouts. His face was a shade of red deeper than that of Narcissa’s darkest lipstick and he appeared to be sweating profusely judging by the sheen on his face and the dark blue patches on his rumpled shirt.
'Narcissa,' Hermione nudged the woman in front of her, 'This is Martin. Martin will be your supervisor.'
Martin just about managed to not gawp at the gorgeous blonde in front of him and showed her to a free checkout, leaning over her to show her how it works. Narcissa, in return, managed not to vomit at the stench of something Hermione later referred to as Lynx Africa . Whatever it was, it stunk to high heaven and she found herself holding her breath for so long that when Martin stepped away she gasped in relief.
'Are you alright, Narcissa?' He queried and she tried not to let her annoyance at the use of her name show.
'Yes, Martin!' She breathed. 'Just very excited to start uhm… this!' she gestured at the conveyor belt.
***
The beeping was relentless.
From her till, from the tills around her, even the doors beeped for no good reason! All of it was proving to be the perfect mix to bring on a migraine.
Her first interaction with a customer had gone well enough. A pleasant elderly lady who preferred Narcissa’s pace of scanning. Beep!…1…2…3…Beep!...1…2…3…Beep! Just slow enough for the woman to pack her tartan trolley case and for Narcissa to resist the urge to wince every time her machine made that infernal noise.
The rest of her customers, it appeared, preferred speed over Narcissa’s sanity. Some of them even dared to tut at her! She had to keep reminding herself that this job wouldn’t be forever, although as the hours dragged by it certainly felt like it. By the time her break came round she was ready to call it a day. Her head was pounding, her ears were ringing, and she was dying for a stiff drink. Much to her disappointment the grubby little staff room above the shop didn’t have wine, gin, or even the muggle version of Firewhisky. Just tea or coffee. How very disappointing.
She had just set about making herself a cup of tea from the small kitchen area when the tannoy speaker above her screeched into life and conveyed the unmistakably nasal voice of Martin saying 'Narckeeza to till three, Narckeeza to till three.'
Breathe she reminded herself, pinching her the bridge of her nose. Breathe . He’s just an idiot muggle boy. She couldn’t afford to hex her boss on the first day of work. Somehow she couldn’t imagine the Wizengamot would be particularly kind to her if she explained her reasoning for attacking the young man – He mispronounced my name and he smells like a teenage boy dipped in chemicals.
She thumped the tea down on the counter, not caring that some of the liquid sloshed over the side. If Martin wanted her on till three, he could cope with some spilled tea. And he should thank his lucky stars it wasn’t spilled anything else the way her headache was going…
***
Hermione came to collect her at the end of her shift, by which point Narcissa was only just holding back the tears of frustration and pain from her beep induced headache. The brunette had enquired about her first day in the muggle world but had been met with a withering glare and a muttered 'Kindly take me away from this place and return my wand, Miss Granger. I wish to speak no more of this place.'
They had sat in silence on the bus ride home, Hermione taking pity on the blonde witch and dealing with the bus driver again so that Narcissa didn’t have to figure out what to do with her ticket. Narcissa had followed her to the rear of the bus, slumping into the seat and staring out the window once more. Not a single word was spoken until they arrived back at Hermione’s office and Narcissa had accepted Hermione’s quill without pause to sign the sheet. 'My wand, if you please, Miss Granger. I’m afraid I must go home immediately for a stiff drink and a lie down in a darkened room.'
***
The next day was no better for Narcissa. The bus was crowded so she'd had to stand, her uniform still itched, the beeping was still like a knife through her brain, and Martin's pronunciation of her name had only gone further downhill.
'Narckayza!' Martin greeted her far too cheerfully, his eyes lighting up when he saw her. 'I thought we'd work on your scan speed today. You were good yesterday but we really like to avoid a build up of queues here. So let's see how fast you can scan today, yeah?'
She had no idea why he ended his sentence with a question. It was clear that was what they were going to do whether she liked it or not. But she threw him a simpering smile and replied, in her best impression of that toad Delores Umbridge, 'Lovely.'
Why Martin and his muggle customers required such ludicrous efficiency (especially when accompanied by that infernal beeping) she'd never know. But she gave it her best shot and earned an enthusiastic nod from her supervisor (as well as a welcome break from his nauseating smell) and was left in relative peace for the rest of her morning. Tuesdays, it seemed, were their quiet days. When there weren't customers at her checkout she opted to wipe down the conveyer belt and keypads with something called antibacterial wipes. Martin commended her (or rather Narckayza) for her dedication but in reality she merely thought the entire area to be filthy.
At least today she managed to have her break and finally get her cup of tea. Though she noticed, much to her disgust, that no one had tidied away her cup from yesterday. Were all muggles slobs? Having made herself a fresh cup she found a seat as far away from the speaker used to summon her and sipped at it. It was no Darjeeling, that was for sure, but it hit the spot all the same. She managed to finish the beverage just as the speaker squealed into life across from her.
'Narckayza to till seven. Narckayza to till seven.'
Seven?! She thought furiously, putting her mug in the sink, I've only just finished cleaning till two!
***
And so the days went on, filled with beeping and headaches, spillages and Martin's increasingly disgusting aroma filling the shop. She swore he applied more of the Lynx Africa every day. Each morning she was greeted by Hermione in her office and each evening she would reveal a little more of her day to the sympathetic sounding witch. By the end of the week she was more than ready for a few days off, informing Hermione that 'The weekend will be blissfully silent. No people, no mysterious stickiness and not one person will call me 'Narckayza'! Heavens, my eye might even stop twitching.'
Hermione offered her another sympathetic smile. She could see how tired the blonde witch was after just one week and it pained her to inform her that next week she would be on the 'early shift'.
'Miss Granger. I'm already on the early shift. I start at ten each morning.' Narcissa had replied in a strained tone, pinching the bridge of her nose.
'Martin wants you in at six all next week…' Hermione said slowly, watching what little colour there was drain from Narcissa’s face.
'Six in the… the morning?' She clutched the back of the chair she'd just risen from, 'is there no end to this muggle torture?!'
***
Hermione tried not to laugh when Narcissa slumped into her chair at five am the next morning. She really did try. The blonde looked immaculate as ever but her eyes were still full of sleep. When she offered Narcissa a fresh cup of coffee before she left to go on shift, the look the blonde gave her was like that of a puppy. Wide and pleading eyes shone up at her.
'Gods yes!'
She clutched the coffee cup all the way to the shop, savouring the warm vanilla flavoured beverage and the heat it provided. It had been an unexpected but pleasant addition, the vanilla, and certainly better than anything she'd get once she was at work.
The bus pulled up to her stop and she nodded her thanks to the driver as she stepped off, confidently striding towards the store front. She tipped her coffee cup back to get the last of the dregs and promptly walked straight into the glass doors, falling backwards with an oomph!
The doors hadn't opened. Why hadn't the doors opened? This was the one bit of muggle magic (electricity Hermione had said) that she had come to rely on. Why weren't the bloody doors opening??
'Oi!' A voice called from behind her. 'Narckayza!' Martin … she grimaced. 'Those doors ain't open yet!'
Well no shit, Merlin… she thought, picking herself up and wandering over to the depressingly drab staff entrance. A plain steel door coated in rust spots that squealed like a Mandrake when opened. It led into one of the sticky back corridors of the shop that she tried to avoid as much as possible. Partly because of the floor, but mostly because of the smell. She knew it was a discount store but was there really any need for this basic lack of hygiene? This would never fly at Oswald & Twilfens, where Narcissa got her own shopping.
***
The one side of working the early shift, she realised, was that she got to finish in the middle of the afternoon. The downside, however, was that she had to wait for Hermione to find an opening in her busy day to sign Narcissa off and return her wand. So much of her afternoons that week and the next were spent nursing a dull headache from the endless beeping of the store, sitting in the corridor outside Hermione’s office. Thankfully it was one of the less busy corridors in the Ministry and Hermione’s office was tucked away at the end. But that didn’t stop the strange looks she got from some of the employees of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. It must have been quite a sight, she presumed, seeing the former Malfoy Matriarch slumped in a chair wearing the uniform of a muggle store and a pair of stilettos.
Hermione had insisted, quite firmly, that Narcissa would regret her choice in footwear but the blonde was determined she would not accept the offered sneakers from Miss Granger. Naturally, her feet ached by the end of each shift without the protection of the usual cushioning spell on her heels. Wearing sneakers as an alternative though? Unthinkable…
'Week three over and done with already, huh?' Hermione’s voice pulled her out of her reverie and she looked up in time to see the brunette unlocking her door with her wand. 'Come on in, Madame Black.'
As she crossed the threshold of Hermione’s office she felt the cushioning charm take effect and had to resist the urge to moan with delight. It would not do to make such noises in front of another, never mind her probation officer. But again, it was another of these nice touches of Hermione’s that she appreciated. Perhaps the brunette’s words at their first meeting had been true. Maybe she didn’t find any joy in all this and was attempting to right some wrongs in small ways.
***
Her fourth and final week finally saw her turn a corner in working at the muggle supermarket. The beeping no longer irked her thanks to the kindness of a regular elderly customer who informed her of something called Paracetamol. A genius invention that completely cleared her of her throbbing headache. She had mastered the checkout systems, had learned which of the two kettles upstairs didn’t make her tea taste like something had died in it, and had become so familiar with muggle money that she could spot a fake twenty pound note before using the pen Martin insisted they use to identify fraud.
She was so successful that when Hermione came to collect her on her final day Martin, who had put on a clean shirt for the occasion, took her aside and asked 'Are you sure she can’t stay on? I know she’s meant to be a prisoner or whatever but she’s really good! Not to mention she’s easy on the ey-'
'No!' Hermione cut him off, not wanting to hear anymore from the man. 'I’m afraid she has another uhm, stage, of her rehabilitation to go. Very long process. Wouldn’t want you to hold a job for her.'
'Hold a job for her, if she’d let me I’d hold her against m-'
'Miss Granger,' Narcissa interrupted with a sweet smile, 'as you are here, I take it my final shift is over and I’m free until the next stage of my rehabilitation?'
'Uhm, I guess so, yes?' Hermione replied, not knowing what was coming next.
'Excellent.' Narcissa replied in a honeyed tone, turning to Martin with the menacingly sweet smile still on her face. 'Martin, kindly never speak to myself or Miss Granger again and get some better aftershave whilst you’re at it. The one you’re wearing just now smells worse than the toilets here, and that’s saying something. I shan’t be returning to your establishment. I’d much rather go back to prison.'