Author's Note: A coupler hours to spare here before Wednesday is over. Here comes chapter 7. Still finishing chapter 8, but what I've got so far makes me grin. I'm enjoying writing this story so, so much. Thank you for all your support!

Chapter 7: Supervisors

Hermione yawned, groping for her alarm clock blindly and knocking it off the bedside table. Swearing to herself, she disentangled her limbs from blankets twisted around them and staggered off into the kitchen. This morning tea wasn't strong enough. She needed coffee.

She pressed the button and waited for the machine to do its thing, opening the fridge and taking out a piece of fruit, eating it without inspecting it terribly closely to see what kind it was. It was an apple. She dropped the core in the bin just as the coffeemaker finished percolating. She slid a mug into place and watched the black liquid fill her cup. She added cream, but no sugar, and took her first sip, burning her tongue.

After she'd savored her first cup of the morning and found herself more thoroughly awake she showered and dressed in one of her more respectable sets of robes. She took her new phone and found a pocket for it. Something about carrying a phone on her wherever she went just seemed odd. She supposed she'd get used to it or get rid of it.

Sighing, she Flooed to the Ministry.

It took a while to get through the red tape, but not as long as it might have because, let's face it, she was Hermione Granger. Eventually she found herself at the Auror Department, looking at the Head Auror and the Aurors personally assigned to Malfoy-Caffrey and Burke.

"Look, you want him to do well, you want him to succeed this year and come out a better person? He needs Muggle identification to pass in the Muggle world. That's all there is to it. If you won't arrange it for him, you're setting him up to fail. He's trying really hard, but he can't get a job without the proper paperwork."

All three of the men in the room looked rather skeptical. "He wants a job?"

Hermione pursed her lips, doing her best to keep her temper. "Yes. He's doing the best he can-he's learning how to cook, clean, and do everything else in his life without magic. I'd love to see you try to do it for a week," she retorted.

Burke shrugged. "I'm a Muggle-born, I have done it."

She lost a little of her fire then. "Oh. Well, so am I. But you see what I mean, he can't function fully in the Muggle world if he doesn't have proper paperwork. I'm sure your office could supply it for him."

The Head Auror looked critically at Hermione. "Will you be responsible for him if we give him the paperwork he needs?"

"Of cour-wait. Responsible for him how? And why? The Wizengammot took away his magic, and if he knows that if steps out of line he knows Azkaban is waiting for him. The Muggles will punish him now if he breaks any Muggle laws. Why should I be responsible for him?"

The Head Auror didn't look pleased at being challenged. "He was sentenced to a year without magic in lieu of spending years in Azkaban. He's getting off extremely lightly. Harry Potter and yourself had suggested the court find something to do with him other than putting him behind bars. He has a reputation. No one particularly wants him out and about and seeing people. There's no knowing what mischief he might get into." He folded his hands on his desk as if that settled things.

"You-" She failed to find words and only just barely refrained from stamping her foot like a child. She was aware it would not help her case. "The Head of the Wizengammot said that this sentence was about understanding, increasing Malfoy's empathy towards Muggles. If this works, it could be possible to do it with some of the other people who are currently locked up. Isn't this supposed to be about rehabilitation? You have no idea the harm you're doing by not getting him his papers and letting him work. He's isolated. I can't imagine any of his friends will see him. His father is locked up, and the court sent his mother away. What else is he supposed to do?" she asked incredulously.

The silence that settled around the occupants of the room was tangible. It clung to Hermione's skin and clothes and clashed with the heat she felt radiating from her face at her outburst. Finally, the Head Auror spoke. "Let's give it a month. If he can make it through a month of his sentence and stay out of trouble, we'll get him his paperwork. Encouraging him to interact with the Muggles just increases the likelihood of complications for us-having to get false records and IDs, obliviating people if something goes wrong..."

"There shouldn't need to be any reason to obliviate anyone. Not on Malfoy's behalf anyway-he can't do magic, he can't violate the statute of secrecy. If he started talking about wizardry the Muggles would just assume he's barmy. As far as anyone he meets is concerned, he'll just be a slightly daft Muggle."

Draco woke up and made himself breakfast again, noting he was nearly out of eggs and other things. He'd have to take a look at that cook book Granger brought over. He put his robes on and padded into the hallway to slip the letter he'd written his mother under Granger's door. He hesitated. He wasn't supposed to be communicating with his mother. Breaking any of the limits of his probation could send him to Azkaban. He slid the letter under the door. He'd risk it this time. She deserved to hear from him at least once.

He went back to his flat and wandered around a bit. He ought to put some sort of color on the walls. It might help the empty feeling the place had. He looked out the window. The day was fairly clear, and not too warm out. He ought to go for a run. He'd seen a park not far from here while he and Granger had been out.

He put on his Muggle clothes and made his way to the park. He was getting the hang of things. It still floored him that Muggles driving cars seemed to have no qualms with nearly running pedestrians over. He remembered the day Granger had first taken him out for groceries. Had it really been less than a week ago?

The pair of them had gone down all of the stairs in their building and exited. Draco was assaulted by the sights, smells, and sounds around him. The cars reeked from a vile smoke they spewed out the back. They made angry rumbling noises and bleating honks, and Salazar, there were just so damn many of them. He longed for the isolation and peace of Malfoy Manor.

They walked along down the bit that was car-free and were jostled by others on foot going their own way. As they got to the end of the sidewalk, Draco was just stepping off when he felt Granger grab him roughly by the back of the neck and yanked him backwards.

"Salazar, Granger! What do you think you're doing?"

"Saving your life," she retorted.

He looked confused. "Those things wouldn't have stopped for me?"

"No, they wouldn't have. Those cars are heavy and don't stop nearly as well as you do. Besides, they had the green light. Green means go, yellow means prepare to stop-though most people thing it means speed through the intersection, and red means stop. The direction the cars were traveling-they had a green light, see? And the direction we're moving has a red light now."

Draco looked around and observed the lights. "They really wouldn't have stopped for me?"

"As far as they're concerned, you're a pedestrian and it's your job to stay out of the way. If they noticed you, they'd probably try to stop but it's had to stop something that's moving that fast. It takes a few hundred feet. Come on, it's our turn to cross now. The store is just up ahead on this next block."

Draco found himself now at the mercy of these lights again and slightly overwhelmed by the stenches and sounds around him as he made his way to the park. At least in here it was peaceful and fairly quiet. He went for a jog.

However, everything felt wrong. The pants he was wearing were too constraining for running. How did Muggles manage in these things?

As he passed others running he noticed that many of them were wearing much shorter or looser pants. He needed some of those. He supposed that Granger would know where to get them, but it rather rankled him to have to ask her about every little thing he needed. Surely he could acquire the information (and clothing) on his own.

He slowed to a walk and waited until he saw one of the other joggers stop to tie their shoe. "Hey, you."

The person tensed and looked up at him in surprise. "Pardon?"

"I was wondering where you got those clothes."

The man looked confused by the question, and like he probably thought Draco was daft. "The store. I've got to be going."

This was going all wrong. He had to think. "No, wait. I just moved here. My...my ex-girlfriend threw out all of my clothes. Where can I get some new running clothes around here?"

"Oh. Girls really are nuts. How are we supposed to afford new things every time one breaks up with us and pitches all our stuff in the rubbish bin?" He laughed. "There's a Nike shop around the corner. If you're on a budget, there's another little shop, can't remember the name, down on the far side of the park if you follow this loop that way. Follow the loop that way, take the first left, and then the third right."

Draco nodded. "Thanks, mate. Trying to run in these pants it's miserable."

"Well, good luck. Hopefully your ex didn't destroy everything. You might be able to get some of it back."

"No time soon," he muttered. He headed off in the direction of the less expensive store. He still had a while before the Ministry would give him more money. He continued walking around the perimeter of the park, until he got to the far side and found another street filled with noisy, smelly cars. After nearly being hit once or twice, he finally managed to find his way to the appropriate store.

He was rather assaulted by how many of the garments were in fluorescent colors-blue, green, yellow, pink. With the help of a rather bored looking shop assistant he chose several pairs of dark shorts and a couple of t-shirts. She then asked if he needed running shoes.

"I suppose I do," he said reluctantly.

The girl pushed her lank hair behind her ears, leading him over to the athletic shoes. "What size are you?"

"My feet are twelve inches."

She looked at him as if he were a bit crazy. "Don't you know your size?"

He wasn't sure what to respond.

She gave an aggravated sigh and gestured for him to sit on a padded bench. She brought out an oblong metal device with a slider and numbers on it. "Well, don't just sit there. Take your shoe off and I'll get you measured."

He leaned down and untied his shoe, slipping it off his foot. The girl grabbed hold of it firmly and placed his heel against the back of the metal thing and slid the crosspiece down towards his toes. Having determined his size, she got up deftly and started bringing him several pairs of shoes to try on. "If you need anything else, I'll be up front. Don't worry about putting the shoes back on the shelves, just get them back in their boxes."

Draco opened the first box curiously and noted that the footwear smelled strange. It wasn't the all leather shoes or boots he was accustomed to. He was rather surprised to find a clear piece of plastic inside the shoe and took it out, annoyed, and started to slip his foot inside and found another obstruction. Aggravated, he took the shoe off and discovered paper crumbled in the toe of the shoe. Merlin, if all the shoes were packaged like this he really hoped he'd only have to try on the one pair. It seemed to take an inordinate amount of time to get the packaging out of both shoes and get them laced and on his feet. He stood up and discovered they weren't terribly comfortable. He bounced in them experimentally. In the end, he tried on half a dozen pairs of shoes before he found one he liked.

He paid for his purchases and felt rather a sense of satisfaction as he made his way back onto the street. He'd managed this without any help from Granger. He looked around. Merlin. Which way was the park?

He wandered nearly 45 minutes and had several encounters with exuberant dogs and a number of near misses by cars before finally finding his way back to his flat, where he promptly allowed himself to collapse on the sofa.

It was some time later that he woke up to the sound of a knock on his door. He peeled himself off the couch and went to open the door.

He wasn't surprised to see Granger there, though he wasn't sure what brought her. "Granger."

"Hi, Malfoy. Can I come in?"

He stood aside and she swept into the room. "What brings you?" He noted with some surprise that for the first time since he'd been forced to move here that she was wearing robes. "Did my mother set something up for you with Belby?" If she had, it would help ease at least a fraction of the debt he now owed her.

"She's set the wheels in motion, but we'll have to see what happens. But that's not what I'm here about. I'm here to discuss you. Well, your situation."

He arched an eyebrow and said nothing.

There was a pause as she collected her thoughts and then asked, "Are you serious about wanting to make this work?"

"Make what work? What choice do I have? Nothing I can do will get my magic back any sooner than the Wizengammot will give it to me." He was pleased that his voice didn't sound as sullen as it might have. Determination. Determination was a good thing, much better than resignation.

The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched, but Draco couldn't have put a name to the expression that might almost have possibly ghosted over her face. "Do you still want a job? Do you want to make your own way in the Muggle world right now instead of living off the stipend granted to you by the Ministry?"

Draco didn't hesitate. "Yes."

"Right then," Hermione said, her tone turning businesslike. "If you want to get a job in the Muggle world, you're going to need Muggle identification, which you don't currently have and have no way to get. I don't know why the Ministry didn't think of this when they set you up here, but I imagine it's mostly because the Muggle world has changed a great deal since the last time anyone from the wizarding world was issued this form of discipline." She took a breath. "I went to the Ministry today on your behalf and told the Aurors this."

"And?"

"And they wanted a month of good behavior from you before they put out their necks for you."

"A month?" A month of doing nothing but sitting around the flat? He'd die of boredom if nothing else. He also imagined that what morale he'd managed to muster in himself the last few days might fade in that sort of lethargy.

"I talked them down to two weeks." And promised I'd keep an eye on you, she thought ruefully. "And your first week is already nearly over."

"Oh good, just 51 weeks and 1 day and a bit left in this state of deprivation."

"Malfoy, people survive their entire lives without magic. You can manage for a year," she said firmly. "Anyway, you'll need identification if anyone is willing to hire you. And you can interview places in the meantime. The odds of you being hired in the next week aren't exactly high, you know. These things take time, especially when you have no work history." She kept her gaze steady until the fire that had been in his own glare died out.

The blond did his best not to sigh, but he failed. "Where do we start?"