A week passed, and then a month. Harry did his best to go about his usual business; he even went back to the Muggle bar once or twice on his own. Malfoy, of course, wasn't there, and Harry hadn't expected him to be. He had a few drinks and danced with a couple Muggles, but ultimately went home alone. He told Ron about it the next day, part of his New Year's resolution to be more honest and open with his friends than he had been in the past.

"Well I think it's great that you went out at all," Ron said encouragingly. "I know you're feeling badly about the whole Malfoy thing, but finding someone new-or trying-well, it's not a bad thing, is it? Besides, things are picking up in training, aren't they? Can you believe we'll be real Aurors soon?"

"I can't," Harry said, trying to sound more excited than he felt. Ron patted him on the back and picked up his wand so they could practice more drills.

Training was picking up, and as much as Harry disliked it, it did keep him from pining too much over Malfoy. It didn't do much for his sleepless nights, however. By the time January ended, he was taking Dreamless Sleep three or four nights a week, which caused Hermione to fret, but for which Harry could see no alternative.

"If I don't sleep, I'm hopeless, Hermione!" he told her, frustrated. "The other day I couldn't even do a Patronus."

"Patronuses are advanced magic, Harry," she said consolingly. "Ron says that even the senior Aurors struggle with them sometimes."

"I've been doing them since third year," he retorted.

"All right, all right," she said, shaking her head. "Listen, not to change the subject, but I've been meaning to ask; did you see that Malfoy was in the Daily Prophet last week?"

"He was?" Harry said, Auror training all but forgotten. He hadn't had time to read the paper in weeks. "Why?"

"Nothing major," she said quickly. "But here, see for yourself." She rustled through her bag and pulled out a copy of the paper, folded over to page four.

Malfoy Family Dines in Public

The elusive Malfoy family was seen dining together on Friday evening. While Death Eater Lucius Malfoy is still imprisoned in Azkaban for crimes committed during the Second War, his wife Narcissa and son Draco, rarely seen publicly, enjoyed a quiet meal and conversation in Diagon Alley.

Harry swallowed hard. "This is news ?" he asked. "Merlin, imagine what they'd say if they knew where he spent Christmas." Or who'd he been sleeping with before Christmas, Harry thought miserably. Maybe Malfoy had a point about Harry having the potential to mess up his quiet life.

He traced his finger over the photo that accompanied the short article. Malfoy was leaning across the table, saying something to his mother, who had a small smile on her face. As he watched the moving photograph, Narcissa placed her hand gently on her son's arm.

"I thought you'd want to see it," Hermione said apologetically. "It looks as though they are getting along, doesn't it?"

Harry nodded and handed the paper back to her, unsure how to feel about that. "Yes," he agreed. "It does."

As January turned to February, Harry was falling into a comfortable routine with his friends. In the months that he'd been sneaking around and sleeping with Malfoy, he'd seen them less and less. Now, though he still occasionally went back to the Muggle bar on the weekends, he was spending more time with Ron and Hermione, and even Neville. When Ginny was in town, she joined them as well. Harry was relieved that she had been more than than understanding about both his sexuality and his dalliance with Malfoy after they'd exchanged a few letters and had a chance to talk.

"I was surprised, of course," she told him. "When I saw you two kissing, I mean. But it is what it is, isn't it? You and I weren't good together, and I want you to be happy, Harry. We'll both find someone else some day."

And so, aside from the occasional excitements and misery that Auror training brought to his life, Harry's routine began to settle down, different, but in many ways better than it had been before Christmas. One morning in mid-February, however, he was surprised to receive a letter from a large and rather cranky Hogwarts owl. He looked immediately at the signature. It was from Professor McGonagall.

Intrigued and a bit nervous, Harry quickly read the note.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I hope that this letter finds you well. I am writing to inquire if you would be interested in a position we have available here at Hogwarts. After many years of service to the school, Madam Hooch has decided to retire at the end of this school year, and I find myself in need of a flying instructor.

I am aware that you are finishing Auror training this spring, Potter, and are about to begin what promises to be a long and illustrious career in fighting the Dark Arts. I don't mean to presume to suggest that you would want to quit. However, I have been informed that you may be interested in a change of pace, and, though I have always believed that you would make an excellent Auror, we would also be happy to welcome you to Hogwarts as staff.

Please write to let me know if you would be interested in an interview. If you are not interested, I would like to hear from you all the same, and please do consider stopping by Hogwarts sometime to say hello to your old Head of House.

Sincerely,

Minerva M. McGonagall

Headmistress

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

By the time Harry finished reading the letter, his mouth had dropped open in surprise several times. He read it over again and again. I find myself in need of a flying instructor...I have been informed that you may be interested in a change of pace...we would be happy to welcome you to Hogwarts as staff.

His first reaction was one of confusion. So few people knew that Harry was unhappy with the Aurors...Hermione had an inkling, he knew, but she thought he wanted to be an Auror, and he didn't think she'd speak to McGonagall without letting him know. Or perhaps Neville, teaching Herbology at Hogwarts, had mentioned something…The only other person who knew was Draco, and it couldn't be him, Harry thought, perplexed.

Of course, it didn't matter who had spoken to McGonagall, Harry thought, reading the letter over for the fourth time. The real question was whether he would ever consider such a thing. He had never considered that teaching flying might be an option for him. It was hardly a prestigious career; not the sort of thing that one turned down a coveted position in Auror training for...and certainly not the thing that one would have expected from the Boy Who Lived. He felt a small amount of regret, thinking it over. If he was to have a career in flying, he'd have thought it would be playing professionally, like Ginny...not teaching like Madam Hooch.

And yet...he he couldn't help but think of how natural and wonderful it felt to teach Teddy how to fly. He imagined himself coaching Quidditch teams and helping first years learn to properly mount their brooms. He'd always thought Hogwarts needed a proper coaching structure for its Quidditch teams and now he, Harry, could have the opportunity to make that happen. And not only that, he'd get to live at Hogwarts again. He nearly sighed with relief at the thought.

It was only an interview, Harry told himself, as he pulled out a piece of parchment. Nothing more than that.

Dear Professor McGonagall, he wrote.

I would be happy to interview for the position. Please let me know what day and time might work best. Thank you for thinking of me.

Harry James Potter