Set 6 months after the end to the Final Battle…

Harry stared at the ceiling with a mixture of emotions he couldn't quite place. He knew he felt slightly hollow and dejected; those had been lingering in the pit of his stomach ever since Voldemort had been defeated for good, since the loss of several dear friends, since the gut-wrenching funerals, and the oppressive gloom that had settled over the wizarding world in the wake of all the destruction. He hastily tried to keep his mind from venturing that way, attempting to bring himself back to the present.

He felt oddly soothed by an exceptionally loud snore from Ron in the bed beside him. He was again sharing the blazingly orange bedroom—almost too happily orange, a sickly orange now-of his best friend in his second favorite place in the world, the Burrow. What used to be my second favorite place in the world, he thought bitterly and remorsefully, the first usually being Hogwarts. It had been fully restored and back to its original impressive self, but Harry no longer felt like it was home there. It was a distant home, one he thought he had now put in the past though he, Ron and Hermione were welcomed back with letters from Professor McGonagall, the new Headmistress, to complete their seventh year if they wished. Ron had instantly snorted at the letter, thinking he'd sooner opt for spending the day with Draco Malfoy then go back for classes. Harry had thought about it for a decent amount, knowing it would be a good idea to get a full education for the future. But a part of him somehow knew that the Boy-Who-Lived, also recently gaining wide admiration from the wizarding community from his personal defeat of Voldemort, was not going to have much trouble finding a job.

Hermione, however, sent her return owl back straight away, accepting McGonagall's offer to take up classes. Ron and Harry had chuckled over this, one of the rare chuckles they shared in the despair that usually hung around the Burrow. Fred's death came as a sharp blow that remained in everyone's side for months. Harry didn't really think it was going to going to go away, ever. George had barely spoken or come out of his room and any time Harry caught a glimpse of him at a meal or in the staircase, his eyes were set to a constant red and puffy state. Harry had been majorly affected by this loss along with the other Weasleys and Hermione, but he knew he couldn't even begin to understand what this loss meant to George, the one who was never seen without his brother by his side.

Harry began to dress, thinking sleep had lost its chance, and felt the squirm of nerves and a trace of what took him a while to realize was excitement and anticipation.

For there were other reasons why he was not all that concerned about employment. Three requests had zoomed his way before he'd had time to think about what he was going to do in place of school. One of them had contained an offer to work for the Ministry as an Auror, a position Harry had rather fancied himself in every since his fourth year when the imposter Moody had suggested it to him. Before being entirely elated, however, he couldn't quite get around the resentful feeling he associated with the Ministry ever since his fifth year when they had called him deranged and accused him of spreading terrible rumors about the return of the Dark Lord.

The second letter pleaded with him to join the England Quidditch team. Though hardly able to contain his excitement on this one, Harry felt a pang of nervousness about divulging this news to Ron. Ron had always lived in Harry's shadow and this was quite a gap this again put him in front of him and his best friend. He knew he ought to have been scouted first, put through practice teams, and ordinarily would have not even made the starting line-up, but again his fame sprung him to the top. After thinking about this one for over two days, Harry had to consider the emotional toil this would put him through and have to endure even more eyes watching him, as a famous Quidditch player would put him more on the international fame level. He had rather hated the spotlight that had been put on him for most of his time at school, so he had quashed this idea resolutely.

The third letter took him slightly by surprise, oddly more than the Quidditch request. It was a second letter from Professor McGonagall, after he had sent his return owl saying he did not feel right returning for his final year in school. She was again asking him to return to Hogwarts, though this time as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Harry had first almost snorted faster at this idea than Ron had earlier, but as the days passed the idea began to slowly morph in his mind and he could not shake it.

After two weeks careful thought and discussing it to great lengths with Ron and Hermione, Harry sent a return owl accepting the offer. Hogwarts would never be the same if he had to return with the weight of schoolwork and tests and bustling about with students much younger than him who would gape at his scar. As a teacher, Hogwarts would have to be different. Students would undoubtedly gape at his forehead, but they would have to respect him as a professor. He was just about ready to get out of the Burrow and look for his own place soon had the opportunity not presented itself. He was not afraid to teach students who were not much younger than him, as he had had practice dealing with teaching students even older than him in the DA.

And he welcomed the idea that he was being given something to do, as the settling gloom in his stomach from the aftermath of it all lurched, and his painful meeting with Ginny sometime after they had returned consistently floated to his mind. Ginny had shot down his offer to pick up where they had left off in their relationship before.

He remembered it only too well as a though the knife kept wrenching through his stomach and twisting itself around.

"I'm sorry, Harry… I can't," Ginny had said, her lip twitching and great pain etched in her eyes. "I can't handle losing you again. To see you leave, to pretend we had never really dated so no one would use me against you. I kept thinking you were going to be killed at any second, and then to see you dead…coming out of that forest…" she had mumbled through a quiver in her voice. "I want you to find out your life after…everything…before you make this commitment. And I just need some more time."

"So you're breaking up with me…before we even get to start dating again," Harry had listed hollowly.

"No! I just think it's best we gather up our lives as ourselves. I need this, Harry," she had whispered. At the sound of her whispering his name, Harry had closed his eyes as the outcome of this conversation mercilessly ripped apart any hope he had for his dream that they would continue to be together.

He tried not to admit that a large part of him wanted to go back and teach at Hogwarts so he could remain close to Ginny and continue to persuade her that they deserved a second chance. She was going to be taking her seventh year and would be distracted with classes and the day-to-day activities of Hogwarts. Harry hoped he might be able to catch her off guard there, as the intimacy and calm of the Burrow had not provided an ideal situation for any hope of coaxing her to change her mind. He had also felt guilty that he was considering these matters as the family that took him in without a second thought, who had not blamed him in the slightest for Fred's death, continued to grieve around him.

"Maybe there'll be an opening for me!" Ron said excitedly after Harry had gotten the letter containing the offer.

"Yeah, Filch must be retiring soon, you can undoubtedly resume his role as caretaker," Ginny joked, though Harry noticed there was no humor in her eyes. He wished to make her laugh, longed to wrap his arms around her waist and just lie around the yard with her. But she continued her path down the stairs, as she had only stopped to give this retort. She and Harry had done a decent job avoiding each other considering the tightness of the space.

Ron glared bitterly at her descending footsteps but chose not to call out. Harry wasn't quite sure that Ron really wanted a teaching job, but was instead considering how it was going to be with Hermione and Ginny taking class, Harry there as a professor, and him at the Burrow with the depressed family atmosphere and his mother bustling about, trying to do everything for him. Harry felt a twinge of guilt and unease as he thought of himself at Hogwarts without Ron. But then, Lupin had gone back to teach without Sirius or James, and he thought if Lupin could handle it, Harry would be able to get on.

Harry had also begun to feel another emotion coursing through him but he had done quite a good job concealing it. He couldn't help the small flare of resentment, however, when noticing the affectionate passings between Ron and Hermione. They stole quick kisses in the hallway when they thought no one was there, held hands on occasion under the dinner table, and Harry had noticed Ron sneak to Hermione's and Ginny's room a couple nights when Harry feigned sleep. Although how he managed to do that with Ginny in the room and not disturb or annoy her, Harry would never know.

Harry wanted so badly for Ginny to make her way down the stairs when Ron walked in her room. Harry hated himself for it, but he couldn't help the surge of jealousy when observing the way Ron and Hermione carried on in their happy relationship while Harry's had diminished to a sharp pain in his heart. He knew it wasn't as if they were trying to rub it in his face, they had been rather subtle about their affections, but he couldn't fully suppress the annoyance he felt at the sight of their fingers interlaced. Harry's fingers itched to lace around Ginny's. He didn't eat much, instead pushed his food around the plate. However, no one took note as the rest of them had done the same for months.

Ginny did not know Harry had accepted the job at Hogwarts. He felt it was going to be hard to tell her and didn't want to push things; he had also rather enjoyed the image in his head of the surprise that was sure to be on her face as the inability to get away from him sunk in.

Harry put the tea on boil and smiled softly as a small ray of hope sprung up in his chest.