Harry awoke from a nightmare. But it wasn't a Dark Lord-induced dream. It was just an ordinary nightmare, though equally disturbing.

Just a nightmare, he told himself. Couldn't he forget Draco Malfoy and just get on with his life?

He jumped from his bed even though the clock said 3 am. He stumbled into his small kitchen and fixed himself a cup of tea. After that horrific sight, there was no going back to sleep.

He blew on the hot tea absently, thinking about Draco. The whole thing had been horrible, from the moment they sent him in wearing shackles to the moment they banished him and dragged him from the chamber. Draco had looked dazed. He didn't look as if he really knew where he was. Thank goodness for Albus Dumbledore. He had saved Draco from Azkaban, but was the alternative any better? Where was Draco now? How would he survive? He knew the Slytherin was completely dependant on magic. How was he ever to do without it?

Harry looked toward the window, the heavy fog drifting idly by the streetlight. Was Draco okay? Was he cold? Harry's heart ached so much, he actually gripped his chest. What if he went in search of him-but no. Draco had been sentenced. He had to pay for his crimes, even if he had been coerced. He'd certainly done awful things ever before he was compelled. And he wasn't supposed to have contact with the Wizarding world. So Harry had to let it go; let Draco go.

His head slid down to the table. He lay with his cheek against the wood. "Draco, Draco. I'm still so in love with you. What the hell am I going to do?"

* * *

Harry was supposed to meet Dumbledore at three in the afternoon at Diagon Alley in a backroom of Ollivander's. He certainly wasn't in any mood to do so but he knew he couldn't mope for the rest of his life. It was time to get on with it. With the business of living.

He was in the habit now of wearing his hood up whenever he went out in public to Wizarding places. It was the only way he could get through without being mobbed. He even cast a Disillusionment charm and strolled fairly carefree toward Ollivander's. He opened the shop door. The little bell over the lintel tinkled and a muffled voice from behind some shelves called out, "I will be with you in a moment."

"No rush, Mr. Ollivander. It's just Harry Potter," he replied.

Ollivander slid into view on his library ladder. "Just Harry Potter? Surely not just." The old man smiled. "Welcome, Mr. Potter. Come along round the counter. Dumbledore is waiting for you."

"Thanks Mr. Ollivander." Harry edged between several stacked boxes and the counter and slid behind it. "Just back there?"

"Yes. How is your wand holding up?"

"Oh. It's...just fine, sir."

"Excellent. Too bad about its twin."

"Uh...forgive me, sir, but I wasn't sorry to see it go."

"No?" Sometimes the man seemed oblivious. Harry stared at him. Ollivander shrugged. "Yes, I suppose so. It isn't of course the wand's fault what a wizard chooses to do with it."

"No. I guess not. Hard to distinguish the two, though, when you're staring down the end of it and expect an Avada Kedavra from it at any second."

"Indeed. A most unique perspective, Mr. Potter."

Unique? Was he mental? Harry just nodded to him, pushed his hood off his face, and went to the door the man had indicated.

Inside, he saw the familiar back of Albus Dumbledore. The wizard turned at his step.

"Harry, my boy! How good it is to see you. Sit down, sit down." The tea things were already laid out on a table and Albus gestured to a chair opposite him. He began to pour. "How is the flat working out? I must say, most were very surprised that you chose a Muggle flat. I can't say that it surprised me."

"Why not, sir?"

The old wizard smiled and slid the cup toward him. He pushed the sugar bowl and milk forward. "I would think you had had enough of the attention of the Wizarding world for a while."

Harry spooned two lumps into the tea, stirred it, and added the milk. "I certainly have! If I never see my face again in the Daily Prophet it won't be too soon!"

Dumbledore shook his head. "That is not very likely."

Harry sipped the tea and then set the cup back on its saucer. "No. I didn't think it was. How did you endure it, sir? When you defeated Grindlewald?"

The wizard's face took on a pensive expression. "Ah. No one has asked me about that particular wizard in a very long time."

"But...was it like this, sir?"

"Not as bad. Grindlewald was evil, yes. But not nearly as dangerous as Voldemort was."

Somehow, Harry hadn't expected that. "Oh."

Dumbledore smiled and sipped his tea. "But you were telling me about your flat."

"Oh...er yes, it's a great flat. It's brilliant to be on my own at last."

"I thought it might be." He watched Harry steadily, almost a little too long. "Harry. Do give it time. It will take some time for things to return to normal. For you to feel normal again."

"That's just it. I don't know what 'normal' is. I suppose when I start feeling less lost then I'll reach 'normal'."

"Perhaps I can help with that. Have you given anymore thought to my proposal to you?"

"To teach, you mean?" Harry shook his head in wonder. "I don't really feel that I'm qualified."

"You are perhaps the most qualified wizard alive."

"It was a lucky stroke, that's all." He squirmed a bit. He didn't think he'd ever get used to talking about it.

"I think luck had very little to do with it. But I see you have difficulty speaking of it. No matter. I am mostly concerned with my staff. And I definitely need a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

"Well, if you really want me. But you know I'll be gone in a year." Harry bit down on a scone slathered with raspberry jam.

Dumbledore blinked at him. "And why is that?"

Harry grinned. "Because you can't seem to keep a Defense teacher for more than one year."

"Of course not. Not since Voldemort cursed the position. But I don't think it is cursed anymore. Do you?"

The scone stopped midway to Harry's mouth. "Oh." No longer hungry, he set the scone down on the plate. "Um...so...if I take it I'm there for life?"

"Well, only as long as you wish it."

"I see." Harry grasped the handle of his tea cup, lifted it, but did not drink. He set it down untouched. "Professor, I don't see how I can possibly know enough to teach it. I don't know nearly enough spells and counter jinxes. And its loads more work than teaching a bunch of fifth years." He was thinking, of course, of when he started Dumbledore's Army in his fifth year, when Dolores Umbridge held sway at Hogwarts.

"That is a good point, Harry. Since the school isn't nearly ready to reopen, I would think the time will provide adequate preparation for you. You must, of course, first complete your sixth and seventh years. This is something I insist upon. And then special training with an experienced wizard."

This seemed interesting. Harry leaned forward. "Who, sir? You?"

"No, dear boy. I was rather thinking of Remus Lupin. I daresay, you could use the practice and he could use the funds."

"Oh. Oh! I'd pay him, certainly!"

"As if he would take it from you. I will pay him. If you feel the need to fill the Hogwarts coffers on your own, Harry, you may feel free to do so."

"I see."

"How does that sound to you?"

"I'd like to work with Remus. He really was my favorite teacher."

"Good! Then that is settled."

Harry took his cup and slurped down a large swallow. "Sir, when do you think Hogwarts will be ready to reopen?"

"Well, Harry. There is a lot of work to be done. There was much damage through the Death Eater's spells. All the wards will have to be rebuilt and this is quite a tedious task. After all, it took the work of four of the greatest witches and wizards to accomplish it the first time. We can certainly use your help."

"Me, sir?"

"Oh yes. Only those truly attuned to Hogwarts can reknit the careful wards and spells. And I know that Hogwarts has been very important to you."

"So... you mean I can help rebuild Hogwarts? Like the Founders?"

"Precisely, Harry."

"Wow. That would be an honour, sir."

"I think you have it the wrong way round. You would be honouring us."

* * *

Harry went home to his flat that night feeling a renewed sense of purpose. He was going to be responsible for actually rebuilding Hogwarts. Not its brick and mortar, but all the magical walls and binding spells. Dumbledore had promised to owl Harry some ancient scrolls that outlined some of these spells and for the first time in several weeks, he became excited about something.

The next morning he received an owl from Remus Lupin telling him that he had been urged by Dumbledore to tutor Harry. Harry whisked up a piece of parchment to pen a reply when he tossed the page aside. "I'll just go round and see him!"

Hedwig clicked her beak in disappointment. "Sorry, girl. But I'd like to answer this one personally. I promise to send something off to...ah...to Hermione tomorrow."

The owl perked up at this and ruffled her feathers.

Harry grabbed his cloak and glanced at his broom standing in the corner. He couldn't very well ride his broom through London, even if he did disillusion it. And he couldn't Apparate in the middle of a street for the same reason. He'd have to floo somewhere close to Grimauld Place. He was sure there was a wizard tea shop nearby. He grabbed some floo powder, stepped into the fireplace and shouted, "Wizard tea shop near Grimauld Place!" and cast down the powder. Flames shot up all around him and he spun. How he hated that feeling. Finally he came to rest and tumbled out of the hearth into a tea shop he didn't recognize.

He coughed up soot and looked around. The Wizarding patrons all froze when they recognized him. Oops. Forgot to disillusion himself.

"It's Harry Potter!" someone cried and several people lurched toward him to help him up. Hands reached, dusted, and straightened.

"Thanks...er...thanks."

"Can we buy you a pot of tea?" asked several young witches anxiously. They giggled at each other.

"Oh. No, thank you. Really. I just dropped in because it was close to...to somewhere I need to be. And I must get there. So thank you but no thanks." He stumbled away from the well-wishers and heard the buzz of a cutting spell.

"I've got a piece of his cloak!" yelled a teen-aged wizard.

Wanker, thought Harry and grabbed his wand and cast a shield around himself. It wouldn't do to end up at Grimauld place starkers.

He made it outside and started up the street toward Grimauld Place. After Sirius Black died Harry didn't much feel like living there himself and he knew Remus Lupin needed a place, so he had gifted it to him, much to the werewolf's objection. It was still shielded and so he had to concentrate very hard for it to appear, squeezing between the houses on either side, and shoving them up and out of its way. He walked up to the front entrance and rang the bell, half expecting to hear Sirius' mother berate him, but he remembered that the painting-though unable to be removed-was transfigured to show a shepherdess standing amongst a flock of sheep. Now all she said was, "My, my. Isn't it a lovely day?"

The door opened and the much scarred face of Remus Lupin greeted him. He looked weary-as he usually did-with dark pouches under his eyes and his now grey hair drooped lazily over his forehead. "Harry! I didn't expect you."

Harry's heart sank. Stupid prat. Why did he think it was all right to just drop in on the man? "I'm so sorry, Remus. I'll come back another time-"

"Don't be silly, Harry. My door is always open to you. Come in, come in." He ushered Harry forward over the younger man's objections and steered him through to the parlour. "Would you care for some tea? I was just about to fix some."

"Sure, Remus. That would be nice."

Lupin waved the wand he pulled from his waistcoat and the tea things assembled, trembled, and poured.

"I'm glad you came, Harry. I don't suppose we have had time to speak three words together since...well. Since the Event."

Harry noticed that his close friends never actually referred to his killing Voldemort, but preferred to speak of it only in euphemisms, like Event or That Day. It wasn't a very nice thought for Harry to have killed anyone, even though Voldemort certainly deserved it if anyone had. But it still made him uncomfortable, and vaguely he wondered if his friends viewed him differently. After all, he was now a killer.

"I got your letter. And I told Dumbledore that there was no one I wanted to learn from more than you. I think it will be brilliant."

Lupin lowered his eyes. His clothes were still patched and worn, but no one was a better sight to his eyes than his old professor whom he trusted, even if he had had to do some things in the war he never discussed. Harry reckoned everyone had skeletons in their closets now about that.

"Well, Harry. It will be my pleasure teaching you, I assure you. Dumbledore mentioned that you would need to continue your Hogwarts education, and so I've been instructed to teach you some of your subjects. Besides Defense, we will work on Transfigurations and Charms."

"Potions?" asked Harry, hoping that he was done with them.

"I believe Horace Slughorn has volunteered his time for that. As well as Professor Sprout for Herbology. With private tutoring, we don't have to keep to a standard curriculum and so I imagine things will go much faster. Does that suit?"

"Sounds brilliant." Harry sipped his tea and smiled at the older man. "You don't have to be nervous around me," said Harry.

"What? Oh it's not that-"

A crash in the foyer made Harry jump to his feet, wand out. He scrambled through the doorway and spotted Tonks, her shoes in one hand and trying to right the umbrella stand with the other. She looked up at Harry and smiled. "Wotcher, Harry?"

Harry smiled and only then noticed that her robe was buttoned wrong. And, not only did she have her shoes in her hand, but her socks and what looked like panties as well. "What are you doing?" he asked, but the moment he said it, he realized that she must have been sneaking downstairs from one of the bedrooms. No. Not one of the bedrooms. Remus'.

Harry felt his face grow hot. Well, at least someone was getting some.

"Just on my way out, Harry. Remus. I'll Firecall you tomorrow."

Lupin ran his hand up the back of his neck and lowered his face. "Yes, Tonks. That would be fine."

"If...I'm interrupting something-" said Harry, backing into the parlour.

"My!" said the Transfigured painting of Mrs. Black. "It is turning out to be a lovely day, isn't it?" Her sheep bleated.

Tonks reached for the door knob and pulled it open. "Not at all, Harry. You've got business to conduct and I've got to...er...get home. See you, Harry! Remus." And she gave him a lingering look which made Lupin's face positively scarlet.

Harry felt his own face flush. Gosh. Everyone was pairing up it seemed.

Tonks closed the door and Lupin retreated hurriedly to the parlour. "Tonks was only here to...to consult about...."

"You don't honestly owe me an explanation. Besides, Remus." He elbowed the werewolf. "I can reckon for myself why she was here."

Lupin looked at Harry for a moment before he laughed uncomfortably. He scratched his limp hair again. "Yes, well...yes." He sat and shook his head. "What she wants with an old man like me I'll never know."

"You're not old. There's a lot of good in you. That's what she sees. Anyway, why I am telling you this? You're doing better than I am."

"Don't worry, Harry. Some young witch is sure to catch your eye at some point. I wouldn't worry about rushing it."

"Yeah," he said and returned to his seat. They both finished their tea quietly and after, Remus worked out a schedule for Harry to return and begin his lessons. By the time he left Grimauld Place and returned to his own flat an owl was waiting on his window sill.

He quickly opened the window on one side of the bay and let the large owl in. The note was from Dumbledore. He asked Harry to come to Hogwarts when convenient to begin helping rebuild the wards. Looked like his days and his weekends would be busy enough. Not enough time to think about...other things.

* * *

Lupin was patient with Harry and it was a good thing. For someone who was hailed as the next great wizard after Dumbledore, Harry sure seemed to have trouble with the simplest of spells.

"I'm sorry, Remus. Let me try that again." They had moved all the furniture out of the sitting room and used it as Defense training, but even with careful wards, Harry still managed to singe the carpet in places and crack the wainscoting.

"Harry, you are doing remarkably well for a wizard your age. You surely must realize that."

"It doesn't feel like it," he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "It feels like I don't know what the heck I'm doing."

"Some of these spells don't come easily for anyone. It takes concentration."

"Concentration," he muttered, trying to summon it, but distraction after distraction kept sweeping through his mind. He lowered his wand. "How do you teach something like this? I mean, I remember Neville and some of the others, but I was his friend and it came easier to him because of it. I can't be a friend to all of them."

Lupin relaxed and straightened his patched robe. "Well, that is certainly true. But it doesn't stop you from being friendly to all of them. When I was teaching," and he seemed to say this wistfully, which gave Harry a funny feeling in his gut, "I tried to put myself in the shoes of all of the students, trying to remember myself how it felt at that age, realizing how hard it was with all its...distractions."

"Yeah." Harry sighed. "Hormones raging and all."

"Indeed. Perhaps...we are both distracted today?"

Harry smiled. "Maybe."

"I understand there was something between you and Miss Weasley."

"What?" Harry whipped his head up. "Me? And Ginny? No! It's...I mean she may have...but not me."

"Relax, Harry. I'm not dragging you two to the altar. Perhaps it's something you'd like to talk about."

Harry stared at Remus, studying his lined and scarred face. How would he take it if Harry came out to him? Harry was sure he would be sympathetic and not judge. That was the kind of man he was. He didn't have to tell him about Draco and he knew he had to come out sometime. He tucked his wand away and turned toward the room. He grabbed a chair from against the wall and sat in it. "Well, it would be nice to talk about it, I guess."

Remus followed suit and found a chair to sit in. He gazed at Harry neutrally. Harry took a deep breath.

"Not many people know this. Well...I think only two. Hermione and Ron. So I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone else. I don't want to see it splashed all over the Daily Prophet."

"Of course, Harry."

"No, I mean it. Not even Dumbledore. It's really no one's business but mine."

Despite the neutral expression, Lupin was starting to look interested. "You have my complete confidence."

"Okay. Well. I'm...blimey. This is just as hard as the first time." He cleared his throat and settled on his chair. "The thing of it is, I'm...I'm..."

"You're gay?"

Harry's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"Lucky guess. The way you were hesitant about saying, your reaction to Miss Weasley, your lack of female companionship."

"Oh God. I hope no reporter gets the same notion."

"They don't know you like I do, Harry. It isn't likely, so don't worry."

"I really can't have people knowing."

"Doesn't that make it awfully lonely?"

Harry lowered his face. "Yes. And I'm still so...inexperienced."

"I can see how that can be particularly true for you."

It was a relief releasing this information to Lupin. All the things he had wanted to talk with Hermione about but couldn't because she wasn't a man all came out in a rush. "I mean, what can I do? I wouldn't even know how to approach a wizard. And I'd be scared out of my wits that the whole thing in lurid detail would end up in the Prophet the next morning."

"Then I wouldn't mingle with wizards. There's always Muggles, you know."

Harry lowered his brows in thought. "Muggles? I never considered them."

"Perhaps you should. No reporters. No ugly stories. No wizard expectations. Seems to me you can be just Harry."

Just Harry. Isn't that what he longed to be? He smiled up at his former professor. "Thanks, Remus. That really helps."

* * *

After a month of lessons, Harry sat in the kitchen at Grimauld Place and brooded over the many books opened before him. Not only was he immersed in studies to finish his Hogwarts schooling, but he had hours of extra Defense lessons ("Sure could have used these before I faced Voldemort!"), but he also had lessons on how to teach-as he was doing now.

The book by Eustace Doctrina was especially helpful. "Be patient," it said. "Learn what the students already know and build on that. Don't force learning down their throats."

Good advice. If Snape had only been that way in Potions he might have enjoyed it more. And it all perked up for him when Horace Slughorn taught the class. But that wasn't quite true, because it was really due to the Half-Blood Prince that he got along in Potions, and that was really cheating. So he guessed Snape really did teach him something after all. Even today it was hard relating the helpful Prince to Snape. Snape had not been the villain like they all thought. He was a spy doing the hardest job of them all. Voldemort never trusted him, really, and he was in constant danger. Harry supposed that could make anyone pretty sour. Except that Snape seemed to enjoy tormenting his students so much.

"'Build on what the students already know,'" Harry muttered. Yes, good advice.

"How are you doing, Harry?"

Harry looked up at Lupin just coming through the kitchen door. "Good. Better than good, actually. Is it time for my Potions exam?"

"Are you nervous?"

"Of course I'm nervous. I've never done well in Potions on my own before."

"Well Horace said you aren't doing badly."

Harry rose to clear off the table. "It's a good thing I'm not teaching Potions."

"Quite," said Lupin with a smile to his voice.

They both moved the books from the table in order to leave room for Harry's cauldron. After making the space ready, Harry stood beside Lupin tapping his wand against his thigh, waiting for the examiner to arrive.

The fireplace whooshed and out popped the diminutive Professor Flitwick. Lupin seemed just as surprised as Harry. "Filius," said Lupin, stepping forward and bending down to shake his hand. "It's good to see you."

"Remus. It's good to see you as well. And Harry! Look how you've grown."

"Hi, Professor. Are you here to give me my potions exam?"

"Yes, indeed. There is still so much to do to fix the Wizarding world that I was the only one available to give you your exam, Harry. But you know, I wasn't bad in Potions in my day, young man. Took to it rather well, in fact." He looked around at the kitchen and spied the cauldron. "Well, enough chit-chat. We're supposed to get down to business." He cleared his throat and conjured a roll of parchment. "Mr. Potter, you are to brew a Simpering Solution. Here are the ingredients. You have two hours."

The ingredients appeared on the table beside the cauldron and Harry looked at them forlornly. Simpering Solution? He racked his brain trying to find it in the maelstrom of his nervousness. He approached the table and looked at the ingredients. Yellow-bellied Sap Suck feathers, Hiding Toad's foot, Slithering Root...of course! This was the potion to sap a person's bravery. Given to one's enemies, they would run away in fright...of everything.

The Potion formed in Harry's mind and with a little more confidence, he took up the toad's foot and began chopping them on his little wooden chopping block.

After an hour he had the potion on a slow simmer and it had turned the requisite lime green. He gave it one clockwise stir, one anti-clockwise stir and it instantly turned yellow, just as it was supposed to. He set the spoon down turned the fire even lower and let it cook down.

Flitwick climbed up onto a chair and peered into the cauldron. He smiled. "Very good, Harry. We'll only need to test it in one hour, but I can see that it is nearly perfect. Very well done indeed. Professor Snape would have been proud."

"No he wouldn't have," said Harry without malice. It was hard to conjure malice for his former potions master. "He would have made me so nervous I would have messed it up at the beginning."

Flitwick twitched his mustache but said nothing. He retreated to where Lupin was standing in the corner and they talked together in low tones.

Harry watched the yellow potion bubble. He knew he'd passed. And with this he had officially completed his sixth year. Now all he had to do was study for his seventh and he will have completed his Hogwarts education. Just in time to teach there. He chuckled to himself. However his life had played out, he never expected to become a teacher, of all things. He fancied himself a famous Quidditch player when he was younger and just discovered the Wizarding world and all of its strangeness. But that was before he realized all the danger to himself. Once he realized he was Voldemort's ultimate target, he reconciled to becoming an Auror. No one was ever going to terrorize the Wizarding world again. Not on his watch. But that was a vague expectation. It seemed heroic and noble. Once the reality set in of what it was like to really fight a Dark Wizard, the glamour had worn off. Harry didn't want to spend his life chasing maniacs and killing them. He hadn't enjoyed killing Voldemort. It had been a necessity. Harry wasn't the killing kind. So after the excitement of that whole thing blew over, he found himself reluctant to do anything. What was there left for him to do? He hated being famous. Always had. He just wanted to sink into obscurity. But nothing and no profession would seem to allow him to do that.

Until Dumbledore's call. "I need a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Harry. How would you like the job?" he had asked. First confronted with it, Harry had balked. He hadn't known what to say to the Headmaster and so stuttered his way through a few lines to stall him. But when he was alone in his flat and really had time to think about it, it started to seem like a good idea. He could have the chance to teach young witches and wizards the tricks he knew. He could mold them and give them a philosophy of camaraderie. He could make certain that no new Dark Lords rose amongst their ranks because he never wanted the world subjected to the likes of Voldemort again. He could do that if he taught. He could. And the idea grew so much that he became eager to do it. But he really didn't seem to know enough to teach.

He glanced back at Remus Lupin bent low to talk to Flitwick. He was glad Remus was around to teach him. He trusted him. He knew what he learned from Remus would be worth it and that his future students-whoever they were-would benefit.

He gazed at his reflection in the cauldron's solution. Professor Potter. He smiled. Yes, he liked that idea a great deal. I might even help him forget-

His image lost its smile and when he looked into his own eyes, they seemed less determined and a little more forlorn. He had to get Draco Malfoy out of his thoughts. And if it meant seeking out a Muggle...well. He had to try. He was damned tired of being alone.


On to Chapter Four
"Draco's Lessons"

Back to Chapter Two
"Draco's Doom"

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