Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
A/N: Harry has some internalized self-hatred going on in this story. I just wanted to say that I don't agree with the way he thinks, and I don't think that he's broken.
Something New
Chapter One
Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You can do this, Potter," he muttered to himself. He could do this. It wasn't like this would be any harder, theoretically at least, than the job he'd done for the past two decades. Hells, he'd practically done this job back in his fifth year of Hogwarts! Now that he was in his forties, now that he'd actually been an Auror, it shouldn't be any problem, right?
Right.
Harry took another deep breath and settled at the high table that overlooked the mostly empty Great Hall. There were other professors milling about, including Neville, who had been the one to first tell Harry that Headmistress McGonagall was looking for a new Defense professor. When he spotted Harry sitting at the table, he lit up and immediately made his way over.
"How are you, Harry?" the Herbology teacher asked, even as he settled in the chair next to Harry. "Minerva never did tell us who was going to be taking over Defense this year. Said she wanted it to be a surprise," he added with a slight roll of his eyes.
Harry tried out a smile, and when his face didn't break, he kept it on. "I'm doing okay," he said quietly. "Still not sure this is the right move for me, but I do think that I need to try something new. So here I am. Trying something new." He breathed out in a small sigh.
"How's the divorce going?" Neville asked, his voice gentling ever so slightly.
Harry flinched. "The kids are pretty angry," he said. Then he laughed. "Kids. Like they're not all graduated and out in the world, making their way. They just… they just don't understand why Ginny and I couldn't make it work."
Neville patted him on the shoulder. "They'll figure it out," he said. "How's Ginny doing?"
Harry let out another small laugh. "She's good," he said. That was the one bright spot in all of this mess. Ginny didn't hate him. She understood, and that alone kept Harry from hating himself completely. "She's happier, I think, now that we're not trying to make it work. Honestly, I think we get along better now that we're divorcing than we ever did while we were married."
"It's good that the two of you can get along though, right?" Neville didn't shift from his side as the other teachers started to settle in at the table. It was strange how many of them Harry still recognized, it almost felt oddly surreal.
"Yeah," he said slowly, even as the students started to enter the hall. He perked up a bit. "Yeah. It's a good thing. I just…" He stopped. This wasn't the place to talk about the things he wished he understood, and Neville probably wasn't the person to talk about them with.
Neville clapped him on the shoulder again, and the both of them turned their attention to the Sorting Hat when it began its annual song. Harry was amused, and somewhat disheartened, to hear that even two decades after the end of the war, the Hat still sang about the need for loyalty between the houses.
"Even now?" Harry muttered to Neville, who let out a small snort that drew the eyes of a few students. There were a few whispers as those same students caught sight of who was sitting next to the Herbology Professor, and by the time the Sorting Hat had finished its yearly work, practically the entire student body was staring at Harry.
Harry, in turn, was staring down at his empty plate. "Oh, this is awful," he whispered, and felt Neville nudge him in the side. "What?" he hissed.
"Look up, you. You look like you're intimidated by the students!" Neville hissed to him.
Harry didn't look up. "I am intimidated by the students," he said quietly.
There was a small laugh from several seats down, and then he heard a chair scrape back. "Ladies and gentlemen," Headmistress McGonagall said clearly into the hush that fell over the Great Hall. "I know that typically announcements happen after the feast, but since you've all noticed our newest professor, perhaps I shall introduce him now so that you won't all stare him into starvation while he attempts to eat his dinner?"
A wave of laughter spread out over the Great Hall, and Harry felt himself relaxing as the intensity of those stares lifted enough that he could breathe again. He finally looked up and tried out a smile, and found that the majority of the faces still raised towards him were also smiling. Right. He was a teacher now; he could totally do this.
"Mr. Potter, if you would stand up?" McGonagall, who had insisted that Harry could call her Minerva even though Harry knew that he would never feel comfortable doing so, suggested.
"Yes, of course," he said quickly. He stood and half bowed to the students in front of him.
"Professor Potter is, of course, the former Head Auror for the Ministry of Magic. He is also, yes, the Boy Who Lived, and did defeat Voldemort. We're very lucky to have him here, working to teach all of you how to defend yourselves from any future dangers you might encounter. Perhaps we could give him a bit of a welcome?"
The applause was pretty close to thunderous, and Harry knew that he was blushing as he settled back into his seat. The rest of the feast proceeded as normal, and Harry spent quite a bit of the time getting to know his fellow Professors from his now more equal standing. Flitwick, who was also insisting that Harry call him Filius, was quite cheerful, more so than Harry had realized when he was a student. And Trelawney was every bit as awful as Harry remembered. Neville, though, was calm and quiet, and Harry found himself returning to conversation with his fellow Gryffindor more often than not.
All of the professors, including Minerva but excepting Trelawney, seemed convinced that Harry could handle teaching the students. Neville, especially, seemed determined to drive that idea into Harry's head, and spent a good half of the night reassuring him that he absolutely could do this.
As a result, by the time the feast ended and the students were dismissed for the night, Harry almost thought that maybe he could actually do this teaching thing. Merlin knew he wouldn't turn out as bad as, say, Lockhart had been. Or Umbridge, for that matter.
Yeah. He could do this.
ooOOooOOoo
He couldn't do this. Harry took a deep, shuddering breath, and let it out slowly as he let his head slide forward to connect with the cool wood of his desk. He really couldn't do this. He'd have to apologize to McGonagall, tell her that she'd made a mistake in hiring him, something. That was assuming that she didn't fire him, because that had been… that had been an absolute disaster.
There was a knock on the door, and Harry didn't even bother to look up or shift from his slump. "Come in!" he called, his words muffled by the desk.
He heard the door creak open, and then heard someone settle in the chair across from his desk. "Really, Mr. Potter, can you be any more dramatic?" Headmistress McGonagall asked, her voice prim.
Harry winced and forced himself to sit up. "I'm sure I can," he said. "Is… are they going to be okay?" He'd done what he could to neutralize the effects of the curse, which they never should have been using since they were only third years, but… but he wasn't a Healer, and things could have gone very badly once they'd been taken to St. Mungo's. He just didn't know.
"They're going to be fine," the Headmistress said with a dip of her head. "So if that's what those hysterics are for, you should probably stop."
Harry sagged in relief. "That's good to hear," he whispered. He cleared his throat and forced himself to sit up straight. "I should… I'm just gonna go and pack my bags. I'm sorry for accepting the job when I'm clearly in no way ready to be teaching."
McGonagall's eyebrows rose. "Mr. Potter, really, did I say that I was firing you?" she asked sharply.
Harry blinked. "I would think that their parents…"
"Are lecturing both of them for being so very stupid as to use a curse that's not even taught here at Hogwarts, and are very grateful that you were the teacher and you managed to neutralize the worst of the effects," she said sharply. "Now, if this incident has made you decide that you would rather not be a teacher, that's another matter entirely. Is that the case, Mr. Potter?"
Harry shook his head rapidly. Then he paused, thought about it, and shrugged. "Maybe?" he tried. "I don't… they could have been killed."
"So could you, any number of times while you were a student here." When Harry opened his mouth to object, to point out that his life had of course been more dangerous than a normal student's, McGonagall held up her hand. "And no, Mr. Potter, I'm not talking about Voldemort. I'm talking about your everyday adventures that had nothing to do with that man. Like flying after Neville's Remembrall in your first year. Or flying that awful car here in your second."
Harry hesitated, then said, "But that second one did have to do with Voldemort."
McGonagall's eyes narrowed, and Harry immediately regretted every foolish decision he'd ever made. "Do you still want to try teaching here, Mr. Potter?" Headmistress McGonagall asked. "I would understand if you didn't; this was a nerve racking thing to have happen within your first week."
"You don't think that I did anything wrong?" Harry asked, and winced when his voice came out a bit smaller than he would have liked. What was it about Hogwarts that made him feel like a child again?
"I think that you responded to a ridiculous accident with the best of your capability, and that you are in no way to blame for the foolishness of this particular pair of students. I would, however, encourage you not to allow the students to engage in mock duels until you're more certain that you have control over the classroom."
The brief bit of criticism, oddly enough, made Harry feel better. "I understand," he said with a small, relieved sigh. "I think I'd like to keep going as a teacher, if you really think I can handle it."
Headmistress McGonagall's smile was thin, but was definitely present. "Of course I think you can handle it," she said. "After all, aren't you the one who pointed out that you were essentially doing this in your fifth year?"
Harry let out a small bark of laughter. "Thanks, Headmistress," he said with a slight grin.
Immediately, her eyes narrowed although her smile remained. "Harry, I have asked you to call me Minerva," she said, her voice deceptively mild.
Harry swallowed. "Minerva," he said quickly. "Thank you, Minerva."
She nodded at him, pleased, and then stood. "You're most welcome, Mr. Potter. Your first years and fourth years are raving about you, by the way, and your third years will be as well once they get over the fact that you had to save the lives of two of their yearmates. You really are doing an excellent job."
She left, and Harry relaxed a bit. Right. He was doing a good job, aside from the fact that two third years had ended up in the hospital on his watch. But still, it wasn't his fault. Minerva would have told him if it had been. She wouldn't let him just blindly go about doing a bad job and hurting students, which meant that he had to be doing something right.
Harry took a deep breath and shoved away from his desk. He was doing a good job. A good enough job, anyway. And he would never keep that in mind as long as he stayed locked away in this musty office. What he needed was a good, long walk to clear his head. That sounded like a good idea. A very good idea.
Harry locked the door behind him and headed out into the bright sunlight. A walk was just the thing.
He felt like he'd barely started walking when someone fell into step beside him. He glanced to his left to find Neville keeping pace with him, walking quietly by his side. "Hey," Harry said quietly.
"Want company?" Neville asked, as soon as he'd been acknowledged. "I understand if you don't, but I've found walking alone tends to lead to brooding, and you don't need to be doing any more of that than you already do."
"I don't brood!" Harry protested with a small laugh.
"Don't you?" Neville asked. He deliberately stepped into Harry's space, nudging him as they walked. "So you wouldn't tell me that you've been holed up in either your rooms, your classroom, or your office since you started teaching?"
"It's the first week!" Harry protested. "I'm adjusting! And I show up for mealtimes!"
"And you don't really talk to anyone, not even me. It's enough to make me wonder if I've upset you or something." Neville didn't sound upset, though. If Harry had to put a name to the tone of Neville's voice, he thought it might be concerned. Yes, that was it. It was just that Harry really wasn't used to concern being sent in his general direction, not anymore.
Harry shook his head and stopped walking. "It's not that," he said quickly. "I just… I really am adjusting," he said, his voice small.
"And?" Neville asked. He stopped walking as well, and turned so that he was facing Harry fully. They were pretty far out from the castle, now, far enough that none of the students were anywhere nearby. At least, not that Harry could see.
He sighed. "And I'm adjusting to the fact that Ginny and I aren't a thing anymore," he finally said. "And I've probably lost the Weasleys, since none of them really get what's wrong. Molly's pretty upset with me, and told me last time I saw her that it would be better if I didn't come around for a while. She didn't really say how long that while would be." Harry closed his eyes against the pain of saying those words out loud.
He knew, he knew that divorcing Ginny was the right thing for both of them. He was happier with the decision, like a massive weight had been lifted off of him. And Ginny was happier too, even if her mother was angry about it. But nobody else seemed to approve of their decision, and Harry hadn't been prepared for the pain he would feel when Ginny's family rejected him like that.
"I'm so sorry," Neville said quietly. He reached out, and Harry was startled to feel Neville's hands on his shoulders. "Are you okay?" he asked. Then Neville laughed a little. "Stupid question, I know."
"It's not… I'll be fine," Harry said uncertainly. He wanted to step into Neville's arms, but he didn't dare. "I just… I just need to get used to being alone again."
That was what hurt the most. Going from the family he'd always wanted to… this. Being alone, probably forever, since he had no idea what was the matter with him.
"Oh, Harry," Neville breathed. He stepped forward, then, and Harry found himself wrapped in his arms. "You don't have to be alone, you know. You've still got me as a friend."
Harry held himself stiffly, but when Neville didn't let him go, slowly let himself relax into the embrace. "Thanks," he whispered, and closed his eyes. Neville felt warm, comforting, and he soaked in the warmth of his touch for several long minutes. Then he began to slowly pull back, and Neville let him go. "Thank you," he said again, sincerely. "I really appreciate it, Neville."
Neville just smiled at him. "It's really not a problem," he said. He started walking again, and Harry followed him. "We're friends, after all. You can talk to me about anything you need to, you know that, right?"
Harry hadn't known that, actually, but he supposed he should have. "I do," he said, because he didn't know what else to say. "Thank you." He felt like a broken record, repeating the same phrase over and over again, but he genuinely had no idea what else he should be saying.
"No worries," Neville said.
The rest of their walk passed in near silence, and when Harry returned to his rooms later that afternoon, he found that he felt much better about his future, both at Hogwarts and personally. If nothing else, he still had one very good friend that he could confide in. It didn't make the divorce worth it, not given all that he'd lost with it, but it was a help.
ooOOooOOoo
Harry gradually improved as a teacher, although some of his students would tell him that he didn't need to improve. Harry had the feeling that those same students would likely have told Lockhart the same thing, and so didn't take their words to heart. Instead, he listened when Minerva gave him a proper evaluation and took advice from all of the other professors during staff meetings, and as Halloween approached, Harry realized that he was starting to feel like he had the hang of it all.
Of course, then it actually was Halloween, and Harry had never had the best of luck with that particular holiday. Something always went wrong, even when he was working as an Auror. He begged off of attending the Halloween feast, because of the concern that something would go wrong, and Minerva didn't complain. She just smiled at him and told him to try not to dwell on the things he'd lost. Which he hadn't been planning on doing, but now that she mentioned it…
It was hard not to lose himself in thoughts of his marriage, of his children, of his parents. Of Remus and Sirius and Tonks and Fred and everyone else who had died during the fighting. Harry breathed out shakily. It was okay to be sad, he told himself. It was okay to miss people. It wasn't okay for him to lose his mind and get drunk or whatever. This was a school, after all.
Still, the bottle of firewhiskey sitting on the shelf above his fireplace was very, very tempting. Harry closed his eyes to block it from view. Oblivion would be nice, but he wasn't going to turn into the kind of person who hid from holidays to get drunk all by himself. Not over this.
Suddenly, the inner painting of a landscape filled with the face of the portrait that guarded his room. "Longbottom is outside for you," the unidentified man said gruffly. Harry had always meant to ask him his name, but he hadn't, and now that he was two months into knowing him, it seemed odd to ask.
"Thanks," Harry said quietly. "You can let him in."
The door swung open, and Neville came inside. He was wearing a cloak, like he'd just been outside, and he was grinning at Harry. "You spending the night locked away in here?" Neville asked. He came to settle next to Harry by the fireplace.
"Yeah." Harry nodded at the bottle of firewhiskey. "I was just thinking about opening that up. I don't think it's the best idea I've ever had, because getting drunk alone seems like… like a whole different level of being alone."
Neville sighed. "I hear that," he said. "It's almost like resigning yourself to spending the rest of your days alone, the first time you do it."
Harry let out a small, bitter laugh. "Well, if that's all that it feels like, I might as well go ahead and do it," he said. He stood up and reached for the bottle, but froze when Neville's hand landed on his own. "What?" Harry asked, defensive.
"What do you mean?" Neville's voice was quiet and warm with genuine concern.
"I mean that I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life, and I might as well go ahead and get drunk on my own. I've already come to the realization you mentioned, so there's no reason for me to not drink." Harry shrugged, and grabbed the bottle from the shelf. He didn't open it, though, just turned it around and around in his hands.
"Harry," Neville started, then stopped. "You're young, you know. You've got plenty of time to find someone new to start a relationship with." Neville patted him on the shoulder, the gesture a little bit awkward.
Harry felt something mean and cold rise up within him, and for once he didn't try to hold it back. "You mean like you did, with Hannah?" he asked. "Because you two divorced three years ago and I haven't seen you moving on with anyone."
Neville's flinch was visible, and his expression darkened. He drew his hand away from Harry's shoulder. "Things with Hannah and I were complicated in ways you couldn't understand," he said quietly. "And I think I should go. You're… not in good spirits, I can see that."
Part of Harry wanted to stop Neville when the other professor turned and headed for the door. The rest of Harry watched him go quietly, hurting, and knowing that he'd hurt Neville just as much. And revelling a bit in that hurt, because he didn't want to hurt alone. He hated himself a little bit for that.
He opened the firewhiskey, and took a swig straight from the bottle. It burned all the way going down, and Harry didn't regret his decision until the next morning, when he woke up with a throbbing headache and the idea that Neville probably wasn't really his friend anymore.
ooOOooOOoo
If there was one thing that Harry hated about his new life, it was the aching loneliness of it. Yes, there were students around him all the time, but what did he have in common with an eleven year old who still thought that the world was going to be magical place? And sure, there were teachers, but most of the professors had been teaching when he'd been in school, and probably still thought of him as the child he oftentimes felt like.
Of the two that hadn't been there forever, one was an insufferable git and the new Potions professor, and the other was Neville. And Harry had already ruined that one.
Most of the time the loneliness didn't bother him. It was… just something for him to accept. But today, on the day of Lily's birthday, it was the worst thing in the world. Because she didn't want him at the celebrations, because she wanted the rest of her family to be there. And the Weasleys… well, they weren't exactly on speaking terms with Harry, even though the divorce had been as amicable as a divorce could be.
Harry sighed and stared out over the Great Lake. He'd done it during his school years, particularly in his fourth year when he'd been trying to figure out how he was going to swim in the damned thing, and all it was really doing right now was reminding him that he didn't have Ron and Hermione anymore, because Ginny had gotten them in the divorce too, it felt like. He didn't have anyone anymore. And it was all his fault, too.
What was wrong with him, anyway? Why didn't he… why couldn't he… He closed his eyes and shook his head, scrubbing his face with his hand.
It didn't matter why he never wanted to engage in… intimacy, with Ginny. It was perfectly fair for her to want to have sex with her husband, and the fact that he never wanted it… And the worst part was, there was nothing wrong with him! He'd gone to the Healers, been treated for a number of things, but nothing had any effect. When Ginny had suggested a Mind Healer…
That's when Harry had known that things were over. He'd tried the Mind Healer, he'd gone through the motions, but nothing had worked. He just… he just didn't want… that. And he'd been unable to pretend anymore, unable to force himself to do it anyway so that Ginny would be happy. They'd had their children, and he'd wanted that to be the end of it. Had needed it to end, and Ginny had… quite reasonably, Ginny had been very angry with him.
Harry drew his knees up to his chest. Maybe if it had been something else, anything else that had ended his marriage to Ginny, maybe then he would have been able to go out and find someone else. But how was he supposed to find someone else when he was so fundamentally broken?
A warm cloak dropped over his shoulders, startling him. Harry jerked in surprise, then glanced up. Neville was standing next to him, a frown on his face. "It's the middle of November, Harry," Neville said quietly. "You can't be out here without some kind of cloak. You'll freeze."
Harry drew the cloak around himself. "I didn't even realize how cold I was getting," he confessed quietly. "I… Neville…" He knew that he needed to apologize. That he should have done it a week ago, hell, that he never should have said what he'd said in the first place. He just… he just didn't know how.
Neville just shook his head. "It's okay, you know," he said. He sat next to Harry on the cold, hard ground, close enough that their arms were touching. "It's okay to be angry, and it's okay to be hurting. I'm not thrilled with the way you chose to express your hurt and your anger, mind you, but I do understand it."
Harry looked away. He didn't deserve Neville's forgiveness, not without at least saying it once. "I am sorry for what I said," he said quietly, trying to make it clear how very genuine he was by pouring it into his voice.
"I know you are." Neville patted him on the shoulder, and this time the touch didn't feel as awkward. "I forgive you."
Harry fought the sudden urge to lean into Neville, and instead cleared his throat. "So what brings you out here on this bitterly cold November day?" he asked.
"My very good friend seemed like he was determined to freeze himself to death," Neville answered, his voice taking on a light, teasing tone. "I, being the fantastic Gryffindor that I am, decided that I couldn't leave him to suffer all on his own. So I decided to bring out my spare cloak and see what I could do for him."
Harry's lips twitched in a ghost of a smile. "Thanks, Neville," he said quietly, genuinely. "I really do appreciate it." The cloak was warm, and smelled like Neville, and for some strange reason Harry found that he was comforted by that smell.
"You know that I'm always available if you want to talk, right?" Neville's hand was still on Harry's shoulder, and Harry could feel the heat of it through the cloak and through his thin robes.
Harry didn't say anything, but did nod. He didn't know that he believed Neville, and knew that even if he did that Neville probably wouldn't be able to help him anyway, but he appreciated the words, and the intent behind them.
The afternoon passed in lazy silence, and Neville stayed with Harry for the rest of it. They stared out at the lake together for what felt like forever, Neville's arm finally dropping from Harry's shoulder but still pressed against his arm, the warmth between them growing. Harry cherished that moment when it ended, shattered by a Quaffle landing in between them, followed by the Slytherin Chasers swooping down around them and one of them accidentally crashing into the lake.
Harry grabbed the Quaffle and stood up, tossing it in one hand. He extended the other hand to Neville and hauled his friend to his feet when his offer was accepted. "No rest for the wicked, huh?" he asked, even as he started towards the lake to make sure that the student in question was okay.
"Never," Neville agreed with a grin as he followed.
