A/N: I promised it wouldn't be long until I wrote the next story to grace our little fandom. It was a bit longer than I anticipated. The downside to me posting this now is that it is not finished. I do have 10 chapters though so we'll go steady through them while I'm furiously writing the rest.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

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Harry stood before the big oak doors and considered how his life had arrived at that moment. Three weeks ago, a letter had arrived on his desk from the venerable Headmistress McGonagall, practically begging him to fill the Defence against the Dark Arts position.

He'd jumped at the chance, eager for a change of pace after the Auror job he'd chased after for most of his life, lost its sheen. The bad break up with Ginny hadn't helped. Finding out your wife of four years is carrying another man's child will do that to you.

"It never fails to make me smile," a voice from the shadows said, making him turn sharply, his wand in his hand without thought. "My apologies Mr Potter," Minerva McGonagall stepped out of the shadows, holding her hands out in surrender. "That was not kind of me."

"On the contrary," he grinned, sliding his wand back into the holder under his sleeve. "I'm sure that after so long, I need to relax but," he shrugged. "I've been fighting my whole life."

"You have," she smiled offering her hand. "I more than anyone know that."

They shook hands before Minerva chuckled and pulled him into her arms. Harry was surprised, but relaxed into it, smiling at the familiar scent.

"It is so good to see you, Mr Potter," she mumbled in his ear.

"If I'm going to work for you Professor," Harry said as she let him step back. "I'd really you rather call me Harry. And I'm really glad to be here."

"Well," she smiled demurely. "Only if you can find it in you to call me Minerva."

"Deal," he gulped. "Minerva."

She laughed and he was shocked to hear it.

"Come now Mr -" she bowed her head. "Harry. Surely you've heard me laugh before?"

"No," he said, offering her his arm. "No, I'm not sure I have. Smiled a few times," he grinned. "But there wasn't much laughter in the castle when we were here together."

"That is very true," she nodded sagely. "Well, I don't doubt that you will hear it more, now you are on staff."

"Wait," Harry said before they turned to go in. "What did you mean it never fails to make you smile? What does?"

Minerva grinned, taking about 20 years off her face and placed her hand on the doors. They creaked open slowly and Harry was again taken back to those moments of wonder every year.

"That," Minerva said, linking her arm in his. "The wonder never ceases."

"When you grow up as I did, magic seems," he shrugged. "Far fetched, even now, after so long."

She hummed her agreement and they followed her lead, coming to a stop before a painting he'd never seen before.

"This is Killian Fisher. He is your portrait, simply speak a password and he will remember it.

"Hello Killian," he smiled a little awkwardly at the painting.

"Professor," Killian grinned. "It is an honour."

"Um, I guess," he thought about it for a moment, figuring he could just change it later. "Rose."

"The name of Miss Granger's daughter?" Minerva cocked an eyebrow. "You keep in touch?"

"We try to see each other every weekend. Ron is," Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Ron is not the father we all hope he would be."

"Well then perhaps when they visit we can have tea now and ten? I have not seen Miss Granger in," she thought and then shook her head. "Too long."

"You're busy Professor," he smiled as she looked at him imperiously. "Minerva. I think she and I always felt like it would be a bother to ask after you."

"Well I shall take steps to change your minds," she smiled, sighing deeply as she looked at him. "It is so very good to have you home again. I'll see you at dinner."

He smiled, watching her walk away before turning to Killian Fisher.

"Well, it's you and me mate," he said with a cheeky grin.

"If there is anything I can do for you, Professor, just say the word."

The portrait swung open and instead of a set of stairs like he had in both Minerva's rooms and Dumbledore's, Harry was faced with a beautiful round room, obviously in one of the towers. There were windows facing every direction, looking it over Hogwarts' grounds. It could be cosy, but he would make it his own. He had at least some sense of style now.

He poked his head around an almost hidden corner and found a corridor with three doors off it. The main bedroom, a spare and a small kitchenette. He grinned at the thoughtfulness of Hogwarts, or maybe Minerva. Almost immediately as you walked into the main room there was an impressive archway in the stonework containing what could have been either a sitting room or a study overlooking the Quidditch pitch.

Deciding one way or the other, he drew his trunk from the left pocket of his coat and resized it. Taking it the few pieces of furniture he brought with him, he brought them back to size too, experimenting with them in various places until he was happy.

He knew students would eventually have to visit him in his office, but he did not want to waste this beautiful room with a desk. He banished his clothes to the bedroom, assuming they'd be put away eventually, if not by him then by one of the elves.

Deciding he'd let Hermione pick out a new sofa that fit the space properly, he made himself a cup of coffee before slipping back out of his rooms and into the corridor.

He was in a familiar part of the castle, he realised, having memorised the map years prior. He was closer to the charms and transfiguration classrooms than the other towers. He was actually glad he didn't have to take on a House leader position. He was looking forward to simply teaching.

"Mr Potter!"

He turned and smiled, happy to see Professor Flitwick coming down the hall to greet him.

"Hello Professor, good to see you."

"And you!" The little man squeaked. "Are you here to see the Headmistress?"

"Um," Harry was confused, assuming Minerva had told him.

"Filius, my friend, I have a confession to make." Harry spun around to find Minerva smiling gently behind them. "I wanted it to be a surprise, revealed at dinner, but I fear I might not keep it that long. I wrote to Mr Potter -"

"Harry."

"A few weeks ago and asked him if he would do me the great favour of filling our remaining open position."

"Teaching, Mr Potter!" Filius smiled genuinely. "That is wonderful news."

"Quite," Minerva smiled. "Now," she turned to Harry. "Would you escort me to dinner?"

"Gladly," Harry smiled, her arm resting in his.

"Filius?" she asked.

"I will follow," he smiled. "Pomona does so often forget the time when she is planting."

They'd walked only a few steps before Harry realised.

"Oooh," he chuckled. "Awesome." Minerva laughed and leaned into him, something he smiled at.

"You seem well," Harry said, blushing at his audacity.

"I am," she smiled." I," it was her turn to blush."It -"

"War is harsh."

"It is," she said quietly. "I had my hip replaced actually," she shrugged at his look of surprise. "Muggles are very inventive, Poppy was horrified when I returned last summer, but I do not regret it one bit. Magic could get me so far and it has aided my recovery more than any Muggle doctor could, but magic is often a bit too subtle. Nothing like fashioning a new bone out of titanium."

"Absolutely, I am glad you are feeling better. We," he clarified. "Hermione and I, we were worried when we saw you in the Daily now and then. You never looked especially well."

"Pain has a way of making you ill, quite aside from the issue itself."

"I know that to be true," he smiled, looking at her. "It's," he blushed. "Forgive me Minerva, but it's like you're a different person."

"I certainly feel that way," she laughed again, chuckling at his surprise. "I cannot be stern Professor McGonagall all the time Harry. Sometimes I am merely Minerva."

"Well," he said, glancing up and finding them approaching the Great Hall. "You've never been merely anything, but I am very much looking forward to getting to know Minerva."

"Och," she said, shaking her head. "Be on wit'cha."

She drew them to a stop before the doors.

"Are you ready?"

"For them? Yes," he smiled sadly. "To see the Hall again?" he shrugged. "I made a promise to myself that I would not set foot in there again."

"Death is a heavier burden than all others," she said gently. "But what you are doing this year will help mend your soul," her eyes twinkled in the candlelight. "There is nothing quite like moulding young minds."

"I'll take your word for it until I settle in."

"Come, it is time to meet your colleagues."

"I've enjoyed this time Minerva," he said quietly. "Thank you."

"Nonsense dear one," she matched his tone. "As I said, it is good to see you home."