Tea & The Offer

By Diocletian

Just a little ficlet thing I wrote when I was bored and couldn't get to sleep. Unfortunately, I think I've created a new universe in my head, so expect more Harry's-a-Prof stories, and maybe some Ron-centric ones from the same 'verse, if you're lucky.
"Why the hell would you ever think I'd want to be a teacher?"

McGonagall cocked an eyebrow, giving him that 'Potter, please don't pretend that either of us is as stupid as you'd like us to be' look that she seemed to have perfected sometime in his fourth year at school. She took a sip of the tea he'd made for her and, after taking a moment to savour the flavour, she finally answered the question. "Because you detest being an Auror."

Harry raised a hand at this, waving his index finger in half-hearted protest. "Now, that isn't strictly true. I won't be qualified for at least another six months, so what I actually detest is being an Auror trainee." McGonagall rolled her eyes, but Harry wasn't finished. "Besides, I thought you already had a perfectly good Defense professor. What's her name—Entree, Everthistle? Been there three years now, hasn't she?"

"Talia Entwhistle has been a valued member of the Hogwarts staff since the defeat of Voldemort and the consequent breaking of the jinx of the Defense position, yes," McGonagall admitted. "However, she informed me at the Leaving Feast several weeks ago that she had found herself recently pregnant and that she therefore wished to resign and stay at home to raise her child."

The headmistress took another sip of her tea while Harry looked on in confusion. "I thought Entwhistle was a lesbian. With a somewhat fiercely dedicated partner, as I recall. How'd she get pregnant?"

"Oh, something to do with muggle clinics and donors who claim to be astronauts or some such. To be honest, I went to great lengths to avoid being involved in any of the conversations about it, but I'm sure if you really want to know, Talia would be eager enough to discuss the details. Most pregnant women are." McGonagall shuddered. "I do not understand how anybody who has ever spent time teaching would ever want children of their own."

"You know," Harry commented casually, "that probably isn't the best thing to say in front of the person you're still trying to recruit as your newest professor."

McGonagall shrugged. "Why not let you know what you're in for?" Harry's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Why are you so confident that I'm going to come and work for you?" he demanded.

"Because you detest being an Auror," she said again simply. "We've been over this."

"Trainee," he corrected.

"Either way," she replied. "You and your best friends have very similar mindsets, Potter. And, as we both know, neither of them was interested in being an Auror for very long."

She had a point there, Harry was forced to concede. Hermione and Ron had been accepted into Auror training with him after the three of them had worked together to destroy Voldemort during what should have been their seventh year. Due to "exceptional circumstances", they hadn't even had to write their NEWTs before getting in. They had started together, under the delusion that they'd be able to stick together and grow up together still as they entered the adult world, but that ideal had lasted less than two weeks before Hermione had cracked. She'd been in contact with some of their old professors at Hogwarts and she was planning to drop out of training. A number of the professors had offered her private tutoring during the summer break while the other students were away and she wanted to take them up on it so that she could schedule a time to take the NEWTs on her own in the fall.

"I'm sorry, guys," she'd confessed to he and Ron three years ago. "But I just can't do this anymore. We have fought more than our fair share of Dark wizards over the years and I'm done. This isn't what I want to do with my life."

So she had left training, done her make-up lessons, scored brilliantly on her exams (to the surprise of no one), gotten a job translating old runes and hieroglyphs for the Ministry, and been much happier for it. Harry still didn't understand how she could be content staring at funny-looking sigils all day, but she was, so he was glad for her.

Ron, on the other hand, had lasted for almost a year in training before he'd broken down. "It isn't the way I thought it was going to be," he'd admitted to Harry one night over what was probably a few too many beers. "There's so much… bureaucracy. All the red tape and the politics and the fucking politicians! It's driving me barking, mate, and I just can't take it anymore. I've gotten this job offer from some people who don't care that I didn't finish school and… it's a good offer, so… well, I said yes. I'm going to give Dawlish my resignation tomorrow morning."

So Ron had left Harry alone in training to go off and… well, to be honest, even now, two years later, Harry still wasn't sure exactly what Ron did. He traveled a hell of a lot, that was for sure, but he made good money. He had his own nice little house in the countryside in Cornwall, despite the fact he was hardly ever there to live in it. If Harry had to guess, he'd say Ron was somehow involved in curse-breaking, though he could just as easily be working as a traveling muggle vacuum salesman.

In any case, Harry could understand the opinions his friends had. The boredom and the repetition and the bureaucrats often got to him, too, but he didn't have a lot of choices outside of 'man of leisure', and that wasn't something he suspected he could tolerate for any extended length of time. He'd thought about taking his chances in professional Quidditch for a while, especially right after Ron took off. He had even been offered a try-out with the Appleby Arrows once, but when he'd shown up only to be greeted with the sight of more than fifty reporters and a team manager who clearly had dollar signs flashing in his eyes, Harry had called the whole thing off and gone home to get drunk.

McGonagall knew about all of this (though Harry would be willing to bet a fair amount of money that she didn't know exactly what Ron did, either) and she seemed undisturbed with the idea of using the information to attempt to manipulate him. Evil and exceedingly clever of her. At times, Harry wondered whether or not he was the only former-Gryffindor he knew who had nearly been sorted into Slytherin. But whatever. He had no intentions of letting her win this argument, on principle alone. The nerve of her coming to his apartment at 8:30 in the morning on the first day he had off from work in two weeks, only to try and convince him to quit his job. Yeah, right.

"Well, why are you so sure that I'd like teaching any better than I like what I'm doing now?" he asked, pointedly. "I mean, I'd be taking a pay cut, for one thing."

McGonagall gave him a withering look. "Not a noticeable one, as I'm sure you already know. And besides, if you actually cared about money, I don't think you would be so adamant about ignoring the Gringotts vault the Ministry so kindly filled up for you in thanks for your spectacular services to the greater wizarding population of Great Britain."

Harry said nothing, prompting her to sigh with irritation and give him a stern look that made him feel as though he was a first year again. "Look Potter, I am not going to sit here and debate this matter with you, so I will give it to you straight. I think, despite what you lack in formal schooling, you are more than qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Your life experiences speak for themselves and your three years of Ministry-approved Auror training don't hurt either. The leadership role you took on with that club of yours in your fifth year proves that you do possess some capacity for giving comprehensible instruction. You're still quite young, but I find you, generally, to be very mature for your age. You get July and most of August off, along with Christmas vacation, although you should feel free to stay at the castle for that if you'd like. And, if you get your marking done during the week, your weekends are free, too. If you can get back to me by the end of the week with your response, I'd appreciate it."

At that, McGonagall stood up and set her empty cup and saucer down on the coffee table in front of her, Harry stood also, to walk her to the door, but she waved him off impatiently. "Potter," she added as she pulled out her wand, preparing to disapparate, "I'll tell you this much: teaching at Hogwarts is rarely boring, And, as an added bonus, if you accept the position, you may never have to see Aurors Dawlish or Redding ever again. Have a pleasant day."

And then she was gone.

Harry shook his head to himself and puttered around, cleaning up. The offer she'd given him was more tempting than he wanted to admit. And he really did hate Dawlish. He deposited the dishes he had carried out to the kitchen into the sink and stared out a window for just a moment or two, pondering the matter. "I'll think about it," he finally muttered to himself.

Now that you've gotten down this far, do tell me what you think. I heart reviews!