Disclaimer: My name isn't J. K. Rowling. Not even by deed poll, because some names are just too sacred. So it follows that I don't own Harry Potter.

Summary: Dumbledore seems to be doing well putting his dabbling in Dark Arts behind him. He gets a new job, he gets a new boyfriend. But as his past comes back to haunt him, he must wonder whether it was ever behind him at all…

A/N: I'd decided I wasn't going to go through with this idea a while ago because I couldn't think of a plot good enough to do it justice. So I turned the idea into a forum challenge (the full album fic challenge) and lo and behold the plot jumped into my head. What're the odds?

Said Idea: This is a story where every chapter is inspired by (and includes a lyric from) a different song from a chosen album. Today's song is "Worker Bee" by Motion City Soundtrack.

Enjoy please!

Chapter One

I Deserve a Gold Star

In twenty-eight years of life, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore had never needed to have a job interview before.

For every other job he had even considered applying for, every piece of training he'd ever wanted to spend a few years trying out, and every government advisor position he had ever considered as being interesting, had resulted with the people in charge taking one look at his rapidly expanding list of achievements and hired him on the spot.

But Hogwarts was different. Hogwarts did things properly.

Of course, that wasn't what made him nervous on this day, sitting in the Headmaster's office with a façade of calm confidence, watching his CV being studied intently by the Head of the school. On the contrary, after spending the majority of his life brushing shoulders with some of the biggest names in Wizardry, he couldn't imagine there was any question he couldn't answer that wouldn't silence the harshest of rational critics. Even if by some horrible misfortune he failed to impress in the meeting, he knew for a fact that everything written on his résumé guaranteed that he was thoroughly qualified for the job. No, he knew that nothing in this interview would change the fact that he was the logical best choice for the Transfiguration position.

No, what made him nervous was that the man leafing through the record of his achievements was neither logical nor rational. This was Phineas Nigellus Black, Headmaster of Hogwarts, and the single teacher who had hated Albus' guts throughout his time at Hogwarts all those years ago. The fact that the man had hated every other student Hogwarts from the past few dozen years as well wasn't quite enough to calm Albus' nerves. He had the feeling that Black had made his mind up as to whether Albus would become a teacher before he had sat down in his office, and what set Albus very slightly on edge was that he couldn't quite tell what that decision was.

'Well,' Black drawled, eventually, looking up from the parchment with a raised eyebrow. 'Haven't you been a busy little worker bee?'

Albus looked directly back into Black's stare and held it as he pondered for a few moments how to answer without seeming unprofessional. 'Why, yes, I suppose I have,' he resolved.

Black's eyebrow stayed resolutely in its raised position. 'No illusions of false modesty, at least. That's good. Still, it's quite the record. Very… impressive.' He said the last word as if it disgusted him greatly. 'Quite the references. I'm surprised old Marshbanks put her name down, the old hag hates my guts, wouldn't expect her to tell me a damned thing that's not a complete lie. And the achievements… Not a lot of people have that Alchemy Apprenticeship under their belt. Not a lot of professional alchemists have it, either. And that whole dragon's blood thing… Oh, well done.'

There was a very long pause as Black stared into Albus's eyes disdainfully, as if daring him to blink. After both had stared motionlessly for enough seconds to make a snake's eyes water, he eventually snorted. 'What a load of waffle. What do expect this thing to say for you? "I've been a good little worker bee? I deserve a gold star?" Give me a break. The Twelve Uses of Dragon's Blood might have you in line for a damned Order of Merlin but they're nothing a really really good wizard couldn't figure out by himself if you gave him a quill and parchment and a few months of thinking time.'

Albus shifted his weight in his chair. 'I'd agree with you apart from the seventh use. I don't think there are many wizards who could have guessed to use dragon's blood as a spot cream.'

Black's single raised eyebrow twitched a trace of a millimetre, perhaps the equivalent of a furrowed brow to Black's permanent smirk, but apart from this he seemed to ignore Albus's comment. 'I'm not saying it's not impressive. It is, really, it's fantastic. But for Merlin's sake, I remember you from when you were a student. You were churning out essays as substantial as your dragon's blood thing when you were twelve. There's not a thing on this list that could possibly have kept you fully occupied for all this time, these are all hobbies for you. What the hell have you been doing this past decade?'

Dumbledore gave a short, very slightly self-conscious pause before answering. 'I'm afraid both my mother and sister passed away shortly after I left Hogwarts.'

'Yeah, I heard that. Very sorry to hear it, I'm sure, but what, they just sucked out all your motivation to do anything with your life?'

'I suppose you could say that,' he replied, in a tone of voice sharp enough to made Black's sarcasm turn away and hide in a corner. 'I have been in a lot of grief. And perhaps I haven't been putting the whole of my enthusiasm into any jobs since then, because thinking of other things was an insult to their memories. Now, however, I think I'm ready, and that's why I'm here. Maybe here, I'll be able to be… impressive.'

It was an answer Albus had put a fair amount of thought into. It was all thoroughly true while at the same time completely avoiding the actual answer. It didn't say what he was in grief of. It didn't say what other things the thought of which would insult his family's collective memory.

It certainly didn't say that he had been grief-stricken by the idea that he himself had killed his little sister while in a dispute with the object of his affections. Neither did it say that he had spent ten years doing anything he could to distract himself from thinking about his former lover or the darker strands of magic they had studied, occasionally practiced, and convinced themselves they weren't addicted to.

He had now, finally made it a full year successfully without casting an illegal spell. It had been a very good year, but that didn't mean it could win him a job.

The answer he had chosen evoked about the reaction he had been aiming for: vague indifference. 'Ready. Right. After ten years. Well, I don't get it myself, but what're you going to do. I'm not going to turn you away just for being more "emotional" than me.' The man paused in thought for a few seconds. The disdain in the word "emotional" seemed to echo around the room.

Eventually he sighed and leaned forward in his chair. 'Here's what I would turn you away for. You're a very, very annoying person. I don't mean your personality, although Merlin knows if you turn back into the quirky little freak you were as a student then you'll drive me insane if I do hire you. I mean the sheer insanity of this career move. Parents don't want their children taught by inspiring mavericks, I think we all learnt that from the Doctor "Bonkers" Bailey nightmare. Parents want their children to be taught by barely half-decent professors who won't inspire their kids to run before they can walk. People will despise you. Besides which, you've been considered as Minister for Magic, damn it! How could I give you this job in good conscience knowing you could do so many better things? I'm sorry, but… as far as I'm concerned, letting you work here would just be immoral.'

There was nothing apologetic about Black's tone of voice, but the finality in his final sentence and the general atmosphere told Albus the interview was over. He stood up from his chair. 'Well, thank you for your time, anyway,' he said, smiling half-heartedly, as he turned to leave.

The silence followed him from the door. Then, Black's defeated voice muttered, 'I expect you to have your office ready for you by Friday. You need to get settled in before you take over full-time in September.'

Albus turned back, trying to stop his face from breaking into a grin of pure triumph. 'What happened to your morals?'

'Oh, screw my morals. I'm sixty-two. I expect to retire in ten years at the absolute most and chances are I'll be remembered as the most hated headmaster the school's ever had, but I can make peace with that so long as I'm remembered for one good thing. Guilty conscience or not, me bringing Albus Dumbledore in as a teacher is pretty much the only good thing I can do that's good enough to be remembered.' For the first time, Albus detected a very, very faint hint of respect in Black's voice, underneath the grumbling bitterness.

He couldn't keep the grin back much longer. 'I thought you said everyone would hate me?'

Black leaned back in his chair with a bemused smirk. 'I said nothing of the sort. I said people would hate you. The kids are the ones who'll remember. They will just love you.'

(A/N: hope you're enjoying it so far, Much as I hope I've succeeded in avoiding making the story contrived, I plead that you listen to the song (and album) when you're done reading, because my god it rules. Also, feedback is always welcomed )