CHAPTER ONE A STRUGGLED BEGINNING

"Fame is a fickle friend. Remember that, Harry." A not-so-great man once said while sitting in the presence of "The boy who lived". Not once in the office, or in the 10 years after he heard those words, did Harry ever truly listen to them. Now, "The boy who lived" sat in a busy lobby, completely ignored by all around him, waiting for word on a mediocre, at best, job that was being offered only by a close friend.

It had been six years since the defeat of the darkest wizard that ever lived by a mere boy of 17. Since then Harry had gone from being "Our savior" and "the boy who defeated You-Know-Who" to just another face in the crowd, the lightning bolt scar that had once made him so recognizable was now collaged into the many other scars that altered this once striking boys face. Not that he wasn't still noticed, but when they did it was mostly by young girls thinking that he looked like an untouchable boy, his mysterious visage accentuated with dull, yet still striking green eyes that had such a look of suffering that they either wanted to be his mother or girlfriend just to figure him out or protect him. Even to his close friends Harry had dissapered into the sidelines of lives that once were in question and now could be lived to the fullest. He had become an acquaintance to people whose very existence had, at one time, depended on him. Even worse, most of the people that he depended on in his life had been ripped from him much to soon. He spoke rarely, and smiled even less.

Harry took off his glasses and set them in his lap. His eyesight had worsened since that night, but he seemed to prefer the world when it wasn't in focus. It seemed easier to get through when all that walked by or passed around him was a blur. He closed his eyes and rested his over-weighted head on the wall behind him. His body seemed much older then it's 23 years, and his mind carried the troubles of someones twelve times his age. He had always thought things would be so much better when Voldemort was finally gone, that the world would fall into place, but now it seemed that everything he touched instead fell to pieces.

"Mr. Potter, could you follow me please," came a used-to-be familiar voice. A very badly aged woman limped slowly out of the blurred crowd, and when Harry replaced his glasses he saw the weathered face of Madam Pomfrey, the former Hogwarts' healer.

Harry stood slowly and felt his knees groan under his weight. He rushed to meet her as it looked as though she may pass out at any moment, and offered his left arm to her right, her left preoccupied with a knarled old cane.

"Now Mr. Potter, what would these poor people think if they saw their healer being carried into her office like some invalid?" She joked, but Harry saw a flicker of gratitude cross her tired eyes. "Now, I believe that you wanted to talk to me about getting a job working for me. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Madam Pomfrey. If you happen to have anything available."

"For my most frequent patient? I do believe I could whip something up." she replied with a faint cough. "Come, let's see what we can do for you dear."

They crossed the vast lobby of St. Mungo's and stepped hurriedly through the back office doors, as many people had just entered either on fire or screaming that it was their own fault for setting off the fireworks indoors.

As she closed the doors on the chaos that was ensuing outside, Madam Pomfrey turned to take in the boy she could see had grown into a very disturbed young man. At the school, he had always looked just like his father and spent almost just as much time in the infirmary. She had had the chance to get to know this boy more than any student that had ever crossed into her ward, and she saw now that the years of injuries had only perhaps prepared him for the pain he had obviously been inflicted with in the years since she had last seen him.

"I missed you, you know. Your last year. I had just ordered an entire case of skele-grow that I'm afraid had to go to waste. And who did the healing on that scar on the side of your head? They didn't have a very good go at it did they." She smiled wide at him but stopped as suddenly as his expression hadn't changed even in the slightest.

"I'm sorry Madam Pomfrey, I didn't mean to make you waste your skele-grow. I wasn't planning on it. I'm sure it would have been very useful." Harry's face changed slightly but it wasn't even recognizable as a smile. Madam Pomfrey decided it was time to get on with the interview as she was worried that she would begin to cry if she saw that look on his face for much longer.

"I don't know if you even want to take a seat, because I'm afraid that all I have to offer you isn't fit for someone of your stature. I'd love to be of more help, but since the wa- well, since it happened, I have been pretty well staffed. A lot of your fellow seventh years suddenly took an interest in Healing. In fact, Dean Thomas is one of my finest trainers now. I'm afraid all I have to offer is a job as an aide on the closed ward. Not something that you of all people would be..."

"I'll take it. I'll take whatever you've got. You see, the job offers aren't exactly rolling in right now. I have no experience and no special training. I didn't graduate, as you know and...well to tell you the truth, I havn't fully recovered from the fall of Gringotts."

Madam Pomfrey was taken completly aback by these words. Of course no one had gotten back to where they were since Voldemort had persuaded the Goblins that the money buried in their vaults was rightfully theirs. Even the wealthiest family's had been wiped clean and unless you where loyal to the Dark Lord you were left with nothing. Even those that kept their gold at home had been raided. It was difficult times that they lived in.

"But Harry," she said dropping the formalities instantly, "what is so bad that you are so desperate?"

"Oh no, it's not that it's so bad. It's a good thing really. I'm, well, I'm getting married in a month and I need to have something to rely on, and like I said, the Galleons aren't exactly rolling in. Thank you for the offer. I'll start first thing in the morning. When should I be here?"

"Nine should be fine dear."

Before she had even finished her sentence, Harry had crossed the office to the door and had it propped open on his worn trainers. "I'll see you at nine then. Thank you."

And just like that, the wizarding worlds' greatest hero, his head hung on his limp shoulders, disappeared into the vast emptiness again.

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Just wanted to add in some teasers for the next chapter. I hope to do this for every one to keep you intrigued

Chapter 2 Teaser

"I do love you, Ginny." He heard himself whisper into her ears. As he began to drift, he prayed that one day it would be more then just the words. Even lying in bed, running his fingers through the hair of his sleeping bride to be, Harry could not find comfort. It was inconceivable to him that he could look into the eyes of this unbelievable beauty and not feel a damn thing past his finger tips.