Story Summary: Fearful of a second Dark army rising, the Ministry of Magic seeks to keep tabs on those who fought in the war by forcing them into career positions beneath Ministry officials' watchful eyes. When the famous Harry Potter gets a teaching job at Hogwarts, flames of emotion start to grow between Harry and his shrewd former-professor-turned-colleague, Severus Snape. Are they the flames of passion or flames of hate…or flames from the youngest Creevy's exploding cauldron?

Pairings: Severus Snape x Harry Potter.

Warning: This chapter-fic contains Adult Situations pertaining to Slash, Lemon, MPREG, Strong Language, and some OOC-ness.

If you don't understand what these words mean or are uncomfortable with homosexual themes, then you should not be reading this fanfiction. I will not be blamed for your ignorance or prejudice.

This fanfiction is beta-read and practically co-written by Prose by S.A.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter© is the property of the incredible J.K. Rowling. Other characters and plot independent of Rowling's original creation are my property. I, MurderedLogic, in no way make any profit from this story. Do not take/use any material from this story without my express permission.

Author's Note: This chapter is short, but it's my first fanfic ever! I was trying to set up the bunny, so to speak. I hope to know what everyone thinks; criticism is welcome if it helps improve my story and my writing skills. I love feedback! Fear not, Severus will be in the story soon.

When The Flames Spark

By MurderedLogic

Chapter one – Solutions

"Harry, my dear boy, what brings you here today?" enquired the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry sat on a cozy purple armchair in front of Dumbledore's desk, watching as his eccentric ex-professor opened a drawer and pulled out a tin box. Waiting patiently for Harry's answer, the old wizard opened the box and plucked out a yellow candy. Figures.

"I'm sure you are already aware that the Ministry is interfering in the lives of the students who fought in the war, sir," said Harry with a bitter sneer, pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and brushing some loose black strands out of his vision.

"Yes, it is quite unfortunate. It would seem now that Voldemort is dead, the world fears of another Dark force rising. I'm afraid these unfounded fears have a special hold on the elders of the Wizengamot," Albus Dumbledore said conversationally, placing the candy in his mouth and turning to look out the window. "They're in the process of passing a law restricting those who fought in the war. I'm against it, of course, but the majority rules. It seems fear has blinded them and they see make-believe enemies amongst allies. Those without a secure and upstanding union with the Minister and his ilk will be forced into a profession of the Ministry's choosing. It's not official yet; they're still working around all the kinks, and by kinks I mean civil rights laws, but those are the essentials. There's just no help for it."

"Yes, I've heard. They wish to keep an eye on everyone," Harry snorted mirthlessly, his acid green eyes flashing. "Suspicious old coots…no offense. It's just…I don't like the idea of the Ministry placing me under its thumb...I've lived under it's manipulations for too long. I just thought this stuff would end with Voldemort gone. I'm tired of being taken advantage of," Harry explained with a resigned sigh as he, too, turned toward the window to see if it held the answers to their problems. The day was sunny and cheerful outside, a complete contrast to his mood.

"That's understandable, Harry, and I don't like it any more than you do." Dumbledore turned back to Harry and offered a candy to him. Harry took the proffered sweet and the old wizard continued. "As you are affected by this new law, I had already thought of a few solutions for you to consider; disappearing entirely, although that seems a little extreme, marriage to someone with enough power and money to hold off the Ministry…there are still some of the old families the Ministry just won't touch…or, and this is really your only alternative, complying with the law, no matter how unappealing that seems." Dumbledore spared himself a small chuckle at Harry's expense, conjuring up a delicate tea service for two with crumpets.

Harry smiled his thanks, reaching for his cup and doctoring it to his tastes. "I've heard through the gossip chain that lots of the old pureblood families are arranging marriages for their children to Ministry officials, or those loyal to the Minister. Why, just the other day I heard Ernie Macmillan's family made an arrangement with the Browns…I think Lavender's uncle is the one that does some paper-pushing for the Ministry – anyway, it's completely ridiculous. And since I'm technically a Black, I can't legally enter into a marriage contract without Sirius' say-so. Like that'll happen any time soon," said Harry, fighting hard to not roll his eyes at the injustice.

Because the Blacks were old purebloods, they were held to subtuary rules, separate traditions and laws only practiced by the elite of wizarding society, and so permission from the Head of the House was needed in order to enter into a marriage alliance. It would simply not do for a Black to marry someone of low status and soil the Black family name. Personally, Sirius had never cared for this tradition and, as Head of the House, had planned to strike it from the Black family Covenant, but sadly never got around to it. Though the Ministry had caught and convicted Peter Pettigrew for his crimes, they still had not cleared Sirius' name. He was still a wanted man for breaking out of Azkaban and running from the Ministry for five years.

"Aren't you acting as proxy-Head-of-House, Harry? Keeping Sirius's legal affairs in order and running his estate?" reminded Dumbledore, sipping his tea and peering at his former-student over half-moon spectacles.

"Well, yes, but I only have so much power; I can't change a Covenant, not while Sirius is still alive...Anyway, I wouldn't want to get married. I guess that really narrows my options, huh?"

Dumbledore smiled at Harry and said, "That is why I think the best solution is for you to work for me as a teacher here, at Hogwarts."

"A teacher?"

"Of course, Harry. You did quite the job with Dumbledore's Army. Did you not enjoy it?" Dumbledore asked, his eyes lit in a bright twinkle as he helped himself to a crumpet.

"Well, yes, but…I never actually thought about making a career of it," Harry answered.

"Would you accept the position as Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry sat in the plushy chair, tea forgotten, stunned. He hadn't gone to Dumbledore for a job. He hadn't even considered it as an option, but it made perfect sense. Dumbledore was an elder on the Wizengamot council and as such, he had an incredible amount of influence and power in the Ministry. Working under Dumbledore would protect him from the Ministry and its intrigues. Plus, Harry had always considered Hogwarts as more than his home…it was his sanctuary. And who could argue with free room-and-board…not to mention the food. Ah, the food… if nothing else, the food was reason enough to stay. And, as an added bonus, it would drive Professor Snape absolutely stark-raving-mad that he'd taken the coveted position of Defense teacher. Why the hell not? What could be so bad about teaching a bunch of rowdy, accident-prone, magical kids?

With a final nod to himself, Harry replied, "Well, in that case…I accept."

SSHP

Because the Daily Prophet can't keep its mouth shut, you probably already know of the famous Golden Boy's exploits. Suffice it to say, Harry Potter had been through a lot of trying times during his life. And he had taken the good parts as well as the bad all in stride. But that's all in the past, what we should be concerned about is his very-near future.

Harry Potter thought he had seen it all; pain, suffering, all that jazz.

Unbeknownst to our favorite hero, with a moody Snape down the hall and a group of third years who would rather be playing Exploding Snap instead of learning about Red Caps and Hinky Punks, Harry would soon be knee deep in 'all that jazz' and discover, first hand, the true definition of suffering.

To be continued…