Bill and Fleur's house was becoming something of a landmark for the remaining members of Harry's Army. Sure, it had begun in tribute to Dumbledore. But Harry stood at these graves, alone in the night, and thought that Dumbledore's time had passed onto him.

He was grown-up now, with wife and child and grandchild. But once a year, he returned to this place. It was a calling, a siren in a world of confusion and blurred dates and auror tasks. Age was creeping into his bones and these past few years he had been hard-pressed to see, even with his enlarging spectacles. Any day now it would come. The owl from Hermione at Hogwarts, inviting the last stray lamb back.

"She's going to ask me to become a teacher. I know she is. It would be far too ironic to ask me to Potions. I know that much at least."

Harry squatted over the graves as best he could and sighed, deeply. A part of him wished that he'd been able to bury one of the graves in Godric's Hollow. But another part of him knew that he didn't have to. Sirius had been there, along with Lily and James. That had mattered to Harry. It was strange that ghosts gave him more comfort than flesh and blood.

And most days, that was correct. He almost felt that he was better born an Aries, able to walk into a crowded room and still feel alone. To many people he was still the boy who lived. Sure, he could buy butter beer and wear grown-up suits occasionally. He could listen to Albus talk on the phone and hear his wife's voice in the background. That's what he had really come to discuss with the graves.

"Albus is going to have a son, Sirius. I thought I could handle Teddy becoming a father, but this is closer. How did you do it? Did I ever see you?"

The question had always haunted him. How many early visits? No, there hadn't been any. Harry had to shake that spectre of hope from his system. There couldn't have been. They all thought he was a murderer then. He was in Azkaban or on the run. That left a bitter taste in Harry's mouth. All those years, all those possibilities.

"Harry?"

At first, he thought that Dobby might have responded. He was one of the only other graves in the place and Harry had long since bought the house by the sea to give Sirius and Dobby some privacy. Remus and Tonks had been buried in the old tunnel, at the steps of the Shrieking Shack. That was one of Lupin's fondest memories. It had been a surprise at his will reading. Luna was here by the sea as well, succumbing after the battle to cancer. Her husband had killed himself. Luna had been a force in all their lives. Harry remembered Neville crying at her funeral too. He still had the sensation of his hand gripping Neville's shoulders. Neville had been a good friend.

"Harry? Are you there? Ginny said you were..."

"I'm here!" Harry called from the garden. He looked at the three graves by the sea and headed back for the warmth of the kitchen.

"I'm sorry to disturb you."

Harry gave a half smile. "It's alright, Hermione. I was just getting some air."

Hermione let the quiet linger for a moment. "Oh. Is everything tended to?"

Harry shook his head. "As always. Would you care to apparate in for a tea?"

Hermione's bushy hair in the fire shook. "I'm afraid I can't. We're helping to babysit for Teddy."

Harry chuckled. "I thought Fred wanted to do it?"

Hermione smiled back. "No, Ron doesn't think he's quite old enough yet."

"We did worse things at our age and younger."

"Don't say that too loudly around him."

Harry poured himself a steaming mug and centered on the couch softly. "I'm make sure to slip him that note at Christmas."

Hermione sighed. "I thought it was fair to let you know that I have an owl coming your direction about something I'm sure you know about already."

Harry bit down on his lip. "Erm..."

Hermione's voice imitated McGonagall's spectacularly. "Oh Harry! I was quite counting on you, what with Seamus disappearing into that cabinet last year!"

"I told him not to take that post as Defense teacher."

"Yes, well, with Neville and Draco back, I just thought it would be like old times."

Harry blinked. "Back that statement up a moment."

Hermione feigned surprise in her eyes. "Didn't I say who took the new Potions post at Hogwarts? How strange, it must have slipped from my last letter."

Harry took a sip of tea. "It must have."

"Do say you'll come, Harry! You'll love your office. I've even gotten permission to replant the Whomping Willow. Neville says its cooperating enough now, root-wise."

Harry shrugged, pretending that he hadn't already privately agreed to take the post merely out of the long-standing habit of spiting Draco that was more harmless than anything now. Hermione waited a moment to make her next move. "Don't make me ask Ginny to beg for me."

Harry groaned. "Well, that's just unfair. You always were able to get what you wanted."

Hermione smiled. "So, that's a yes then?"

Harry sighed. "It was sort of inevitable, wasn't it?"

"Okay, we'll see you the week before term begins so that we can begin decorating the room. I'm not going to pull many favors, but you may be able to sort this year!"

Harry drifted away after Hermione's head popped away from the fire and the rest of the pleasantries were tossed about. Through the curtains, he could still see the graves in the sharp moonlight. He knew one day he would join them, but for now he was still living. There were still the Weasleys and the Potters, Neville and Draco. There was still an old band to live with and for.

Harry began thinking about his walls straight away. Each teacher had their trademark. Harry knew that a DADA was nothing without its signature spell. He thought of his many friends and their many favorite spells. He thought of their favorite colors behind them in background font, each waving from a nearby window. And he secretly hoped that he could find a boggart or two to change into a dementor, if only to see Snape dressed in Neville's grandmother's clothes one last time.