A/N: Welcome to my newest endeavor! This is a series of mostly unconnected stories, based off of prompts requested by readers. The theme is that all the prompts must be centered around McGonagall. Wish I owned the HP universe, but obviously I don't. :(

Prompt: McGonagall convinces Harry to become a DADA professor instead of an Auror.

Take The Job, Potter

It was a few days after the battle and the school was almost fully restored. It was amazing, the work that could be done when everyone put their wands together to do some good. Not a single student refused to help rebuild the school they called home— not even those whose parents aided in its destruction.

There were certainly faces she had not expected to see. First, Draco Malfoy, who had the gall to actually hug the monster in front of everyone, had earned his redemption. He returned to the ruins a day after the chaos had subsided, and waited for her in her newly appointed office. His apology was sincere, and he had personally offered to rebuild whatever area of the castle she saw fit. Even the Gryffindor Tower. He truly wanted to earn his forgiveness.

Another face she absolutely did not expect to see out and about was that of Harry Potter, who should be resting. Less than an hour after he has made history and saved the entire wizarding world, he was already working to fix what was broken. Or rather, what he thought he had broken. Never had she seen more misplaced guilt than in that boy. He didn't ask to be the so-called "chosen one", and he didn't ask for any of the destruction that followed.

Still, he was hard at work. She began to get a wee bit worried that he wasn't taking care of himself, but she knew he had his loyal friends supporting him and making sure he ate and slept. She reminded herself to thank them later.

Perhaps his coping mechanism was throwing himself into his work. She could relate to that. She had done that, once upon a time. Of course, she found it very uncharacteristic of the boy, after grading six years of average-at-best essays from him. But he's been through so much, she wouldn't put it past him. Whatever would help him, she would support.

And it was in that vein of thinking that led to her sitting in the chair that once belonged to her mentor, waiting for the boy's arrival. He was doing as well as anyone expected him to be; his coloring was slowly coming back, he was making an effort to visit all those still in the hospital ward, and there was a rumor going around that he was even seen laughing in the courtyard at a joke made by Mr. Weasley. But she'd be lying if she said she wasn't worried. What would happen when the rest of the students went home for the summer holidays? What about when his friends would walk out the doors of the castle, many of whom would likely not return? Would he be okay when the restoration was finished, and his friends were no longer in close proximity?

As if on cue, a knock reverberated through the office. She smiled internally, knowing he had to have said the password she set in honor of the great wizard who came before her. And she certainly wasn't referring to Snape. After opening the doors with a wave of her wand, she sat at attention and awaited his entrance.

He looked taller. Perhaps it's the weight of the world that's been taken off his shoulders that allowed him to stand up straighter.

"You asked to see me, Professor?

Minerva gestured for him to have a seat, and took out the tartan container she kept fully stocked for occasions like this one.

"Have a biscuit, Potter."

He hesitated for a brief moment, but seeing the stern expression she kept on her face indicating that declining was not an option, he took a biscuit. The expression melted away and led to a countenance of warmth.

The professor looked him in the eye, and asked "How are you?"

A bit confused, the boy replied "I'm great, Professor." Then as an awkward afterthought: "How are you?"

Even though that answer was unacceptable (as she doubted it was the truth), she made the decision to let it go and move on to what she actually called him in for. If she had learned anything in the past year, it was that time was precious.

"Very well. I'm sure you're wondering why I requested your presence."

The boy said nothing in response, so she pressed on.

"I wanted to know what your plans were after this is over."

The confused look deepened, and he slowly decided, "Well, I'll probably be heading down to The Great Hall, I guess. Now that everything has been returned to where it was, I heard they're planning on having the end-of-year feast as scheduled. Something to celebrate a new beginning. Or at least that's what they say. I wasn't going to go, but everyone will be expecting me, so I have to at least make an appearance."

She hid her smile as best she could below a single raised eyebrow. That wasn't exactly what she meant. Of course, she knew about the feast, she as headmistress had organized it. But further to the point, she was amused that he actually thought she called him here to talk about his trivial dinner plans. Sometimes, he really was the spitting image of James.

"No, Mr. Potter. I meant what are your long term plans. Beyond what you plan to do directly after I release you?"

The look of understanding on his face was almost comical. He had the sense to look sheepish before giving his answer.

"Oh. To be honest, Professor, I really hadn't expected to be alive right now, let alone long enough to make future plans. I really haven't a clue what I'll do next," he admitted

She figured as much. "While I know circumstances have certainly changed, I'm still committed to the promise I made you during your fifth year. If it's what you want, I'll still do whatever it takes to make you an Auror. Even if it's the last thing I ever do. I didn't just say that for Dolores's benefit."

His smile was so filled with innocence. He was genuinely touched by her sentiment, as if he couldn't believe his head of house was capable of being nice. He know better though, she was sure of it.

"Thank you. So much, Professor, thank you. But I really don't know if that's a very good idea for me anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"Well now that I've defeated Voldemort twice over, I'll have a target on my back for the rest of my life. Not that that's anything new of course," he chuckled morbidly. "But I don't think I want to ask for danger to come to me. Honestly Professor, a nice, boring office job sounds wonderful."

"I can't offer you an office job," the professor started. She took a second to assess that this was truly a good idea. He could handle it. He's handled much bigger tasks. "But I can offer you a teaching job."

A moment of silence followed.

"...I'm sorry?" He nearly choked on the words. To say he was shocked was an understatement.

"As I'm sure you're aware," she continued as if he never spoke, "we have a staffing shortage for the upcoming year." She didn't need to explain why. He didn't need a reminder. "And as I remember, you managed to teach an entire army of various skill levels what they needed to know in the Dark Arts."

"Yeah, but..."

"And," she interrupted, "you received top marks in every Dark Arts class taught by a competent teacher." Umbridge and Snape excluded, of course. In her eyes, the former was an evil toad who hated children, and the latter...

"Yes, but..."

"AND I can't think of a single person more qualified for the position than you. You clearly enjoyed teaching during your fifth year, and you have a real knack for it. What possible objections are you about to raise?" She pulled out her lecturing voice, hoping he would take the hint and just accept already.

"Professor, I haven't even finished my seventh year."

"You spent that time gaining actual field experience, hunting down the darkest objects magic can create and then destroying them! The knowledge you gained would be far more than what you would have learned sitting in a classroom." She knew she had a reputation for adhering to the rules, but did he seriously think she'd make him sit through a year's worth of material that is far below his level of understanding?

"I never took my NEWTs. Wouldn't I have to get an outstanding to teach?" His voice was so quiet, it was barely above a whisper.

"Harry." She was hoping the use of his first name would grab his attention long enough to actually listen to what she was saying. "You just defeated Lord Voldemort. I think the entire wizarding would would agree that that was rather outstanding."

He looked as if he was about to object again, and before he could, she put a stop to it. "Potter, do you want the position as the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, or not?"

If it weren't for her feline hearing, she probably wouldn't have even heard the tiny "yes" emitted from his mouth.

She gave one of her rare, genuine smiles, and stood up to shake his hand. Which felt a bit silly, considering she'd known this boy since he was still wearing a nappy.

"Welcome aboard, Professor Potter," She half-joked.

He laughed, because to him that title sounded utterly ridiculous. In any case, he was still grateful.

"Thank you, Headmistress McGonagall."

The two shared a look, and the handshake turned into a hug. This deal was quite mutually beneficial. He never had to leave the castle he called home, and she didn't have to say goodbye to the boy— or man, rather— who would always take up residence in a special place in her heart.

Together, maybe they could rebuild more than just the foundation of the castle. They could help rebuild each other into the people they aspire to become.

Have a prompt centered around McGonagall? Leave a review below or PM with your request, and I'll do my best to make it happen!