A/N: A particulary nice comment on the original fic had me posting the first chapter of the sequel earlier than I was going to. Thank you to them!
Fair warning; as of when this is posted, I've only written four chapters so far with two of them fully (incompetantly) edited. Given my growing experience writing, this will take far longer to write, and will be longer than the original. Ideally this means to should be better that the first as well. I'm aiming to post on Ao3 as well, we'll see how that goes.
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Life in a Dream
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A slightly more dignified Harry Potter sat at the Staff Table than what the students of Hogwarts had seen in the last week or two.
The subject had been discussed extensively among most of the student population, as expected, and had reached a conclusion somewhat close to the truth. Professor Potter had been rather distracted by events that only a special few knew: Over the Christmas holidays, he had proposed to his then girlfriend, Nymphadora Tonks. None knew the witch personally, and would thus know, that no one would ever call her by that name without incurring her wrath.
Some would think that being Harry Potter the Wizarding World's savior, not to mention fiancé AND godfather to her child, would spare him from said wrath. Whoever thought that was well and truly wrong, although it never fazed the young man that had just started on his scrambled eggs with relish. For it was one of the things that Harry loved about her. The intensity with which she pursued anything in her life was far too attractive to him to worry about the occasional outburst of fury.
Usually, such fury was justified, and it had many different flavours to boot. Sometimes, it was simple, forthright anger that was directed at him vocally. Sometimes it was more mischievous, taking the form of pranks or child-like pouting.
Sometimes it would last minutes, sometimes multiple days.
However long it lasted, however it was eventually resolved… more often than not, they would find themselves making up by making…
He shook himself, akin to a wet dog, though, as subtly as possible. it would not do to let his thoughts stray into the realm of amorous pursuits in the Great Hall. Besides, an important part of today was a surprise test he planned to spring on his third year students. One that would include topics learnt from both their first two years of schooling, or at least things they should have learnt under Severus in the one year he taught Defence. He didn't even bother thinking about what the students had 'learnt' the year before under the tutelage of Deatheaters.
The irregularity in subject matter was one of the reasons why he planned on teaching Defense indefinitely. With all his planning he hoped that in time, the subject would once again be stable in its curriculum and delivery. One thing that he looked back upon in horror, was just how inept the students of Hogwarts were in Defence. Only the students who ended up using spells they had learnt through self-study, survived the war, along with most of those who were in the D.A.
He had to concede one thing to Voldemort, placing a curse on the teaching position was a masterstroke. Swiftly crippling any force that opposed him in the future. If the curse had not been lifted with his death, then Harry would be the one to break it. Something the Headmistress had been fiercely adamant about when the topic had been brought up in the conversation that brought about his employment at Hogwarts.
Every now and then he would realize, over, and over again, that he was now a fully-fledged member of the faculty. Each time, it would send his mind reeling. Some would say it wasn't very far removed from running Dumbledore's Army. Only he wasn't the figurehead for a minor student rebellion under the tyranny of one Delores Umbridge. Now, he had a standard to keep to, punishment protocols to enforce and a sudden distance to keep with his students.
The ups and downs of his days were now remarkably… normal. They included the satisfaction of a spark of understanding achieved by a student, the annoyance that came with those who had no intention of studying for their last period on a friday. He loathed to give out detentions, and luckily, he rarely needed to. Who knew ridding the world of a Dark Lord lent him so much gravitas in the classroom?
He blinked once more, scolding his wandering mind.
In short, the fact that he was to be married had left him in a daze that lasted the first two weeks of term. Something Hermione and Neville ribbed him about constantly over that time, although always in the privacy of his study or empty classroom. During these candid moments with his friends, he'd noticed how close they'd become. He actually felt somewhat sorry for Hermione. The number of new couples in the Castle surpassed any year before in recent memory, apart from the end of the first war. Or so Professor Flitwick had observed… more than once.
His best friend deserved the world, and while he felt that Neville could easily give it to her, the way he acted around Luna proved the point moot. Not that this seemed to affect her in any way, she studied diligently and cast his votes in the Wizengamot with wit and vigor. Said duties kept her busy, and for that he was thankful. One day she would enter the Ministry proper and make a change for the better. Her experiences in the Wizengamot Chambers would give her the knowledge needed to step on as little toes as possible when the reforms began.
And they would begin, for she decred the state of the ruling body of magic britain. While things progressed much more slowly in the Wizarding world in comparison to the Muggle one, there was no excuse for their lagging behind the rest of the Magical World. He shook his head minutely, British politics, of any kind, made his head spin.
As a distraction, he sipped his coffee and wandlessly cast a quick Tempus Charm - something honed through repetition - and checked the time. Shit. He reprimanded himself once more, sculled the rest of his coffee, and hurried off towards the Defence Classroom. One of his first changes, upon taking the job, was to move the classroom. The classroom that he'd studied in was far too small in his opinion.
Now, however, it was currently used as a sort of warehouse that housed various contraptions that he used in his classes. The room he'd chosen was a large one on the first floor, and conveniently enough, not too far from the Great Hall. He entered to see that most had taken their seats, others stood chatting to their friends. He didn't bother reprimanding them for not being seated, if they weren't ready, that was their problem. Not to mention the fact that he was very nearly late himself.
By the time he made it to the front of his, quite enormous classroom, he found the small mountain of parchment upon the desk. He placed his mug of liquid gold upon it and gave his wand a flick, levitating the papers to the student closest to him. "Take one and pass the rest on Miss Whitehall." The precocious girl smiled and began the task. Some prodding between students was needed to keep the papers moving, but in the end, the intended effect was achieved. All students were now quiet, seated and now eyed the paper, and himself with some distaste.
He very nearly smirked in response. "I agree, it's far too early in the morning for a test. But as far as the scheduling was concerned, you lot, drew the short straw." He resumed his standard practice of leaning against the desk and continued. "That said, you always need to be ready. Even if it's your own familiar attacking you to wake you up." He added offhandedly with a smirk, thinking of the times Sirius, his feathered companion, had pecked him awake.
"You may begin when ready, and can leave when you've handed it back to me. If you've forgotten some things over the holidays, study. There will be a practical side to this later in the week." Some looked slightly fearful at that, but others got stuck in, and the sound of scratching quills filled the room.
Frowning at the continued use of quills, he spent the lesson drafting a letter to Hermione about changing the educational monopoly upon quills. Pens, even fountain pens, were far preferable once he'd used them himself. Surely, many a bird would be thanking him for allowing them to keep their feathers in the future.
...
"I've already put this one up." Was Hermione's first comment, branshing the parchment he'd sent to her, upon his finding her after much searching of the castle. Really, he should have known she would be here, studying in the library. It left him, for a time, wondering why on earth he didn't check it first.
"And?" He asked, conjuring himself a chair and sitting next to her. While nothing like Dumbledore's comfy chintz chairs, he had enough experience of battle-conjuration to create a basic, somewhat comfy chair. And now, Madam Prince couldn't tell him off for excessive magic in the library. Was he even slightly smug about something so small? Undoubtedly.
"They aren't magical enough." She said with a roll of her eyes.
"Did you tell them that-"
"Yes I did, they didn't believe me."
He huffed at the British Wizarding Community's aversion to change. Though, it possibly had more to do with upending the monopoly on writing that the quill enjoyed. Money, it seemed, drove Muggles and Magicals alike. Obviously, he would have to direct his growing tact and wisdom at the problem, something he wouldn't have believed possible a year or two ago. So he sat and pondered upon the problem for a while, with the noises of Hermione's biro scratching against the rough parchment for company.
"Maybe make some, and give them out so they can try them?" He tried.
She pondered the idea for some time, tapping her chin with her basic muggle pen. "It could work." She stared off into space. "If they were made out of the most magical materials we could find to impress… they would be fairly expensive."
He shrugged at her point. It wasn't as though he taught at Hogwarts for the money he made. In fact, his accounts manager at Gringotts made as much interest for him each month as his salary from teaching per year. Apparently, the end of a devastating war was the best time to buy. This incredible amount of wealth still unsettled him, but he'd found it could come in useful at times. Such as designing and forging a hundred or so muggle fountain pens made of expensive magical materials.
"Could you look for someone to make them? As a member of the faculty, I can't let this impact your studies." He finished with a smirk.
A smirk that was returned, much to his amusement. She had started to lighten up and join his banter more of late, something he appreciated as there were very few he could be so candid with. "Of course, milord."
That wiped the grin off his face, the overly formal title still rubbed him the wrong way. Not that he let it show at the Ministry. Among friends though, it was not on. Apart from in the bedroom with Tonks that is. He took a glance around the deserted library before replying. "Fuck off 'Mione."
She swatted him and returned to her reading. Harry stared at her, fidgeting, wondering how to put his next request into words. "You should make some more friends." Instantly he cringed at the bluntness of his delivery. Once again, he was glad that he never spoke in the Wizengamot. Devious actions he was familiar with, subtle wording, he was not. Only half a Slytherin then. He mused.
She batted his concerns away as if they were an errant fly. "I've got Neville."
"I know, but he can get... distracted." True to their previous speculation since the new term, Neville and Luna had vanished quite regularly and reappeared in various states of dishevelment, sometimes returning even an hour or more later. Thankfully, he hadn't caught them as of yet.
"I'll be fine."
He sighed at the noncommittal gesture he recognised as his own. "Look, I'm only asking because of the next assignment I've got for your class. You'll need to be in pairs, just... try someone new. Greengrass seems like she won't hold you back."
Her gaze moved from the pages in front of her as she considered his point. Ron, not returning to Hogwarts, had neatly switched the tracks of his friends' lives and… it was still taking some getting used to.
Knowing her, as he did, he stood, intent upon leaving her with his thoughts. "I'll let you get back to it, see you tomorrow." She nodded at him in reply as he dismissed his chair with a flick. He hoped to finish some more of his paperwork before dinner so he could see Tonks as early as possible.
…
He did, in fact, finish said paperwork before dinner, leaving his mind free to wander as he chewed upon the juicy steak that he'd chosen as sustenance. Idly he noted Slughorn's absence, and guessed that the aging Potions Master was hosting a separate dinner of his own with his infamous club. Something he was incredibly grateful for; was that he could avoid auch parties as a fellow member of the staff. Not that he begrudged the man as much as he used to, he did remain at the castle during the battle after all.
The fact that he'd seen the older man drinking something that shimmered suspiciously similar to Felix Felicis merely made him laugh now upon reflection.
Again, memories of that day flooded back at this small opening in his ponderings. Nowadays, the most important memories to him now - mostly - included his fiancé. As he'd gazed upon their corpses, it had been the symbolism of parents dying for their children that struck him the hardest. A circle of life that had influenced most of his. It had stood stoically and separately to the Weasley's combined grief mere feet away.
But then, she'd arrived in a flurry of panic, seemingly from the grasp of death itself.
The fact that she'd cared far more about her mother at the time, perhaps, should have been a sign. If he'd cared to look. In fact, it made him wonder about their own arrangement. She'd been married already, a union he'd barely even witnessed with its apparent speed. In hindsight, he should have talked to Remus about it, what made a man decide that he wanted to marry? Was it the oppressive climate? The need for comfort? Something intangible that bound two people together?
The need for comfort he knew well, whether he admitted it or not, nor even understood just when he needed it. He once again wondered, if he wasn't Harry Potter, how others would see him.
At fifteen Tonks had winked at him, leaving him incredibly confused as he'd only just met her. She was outspoken, incredibly open and mischievous. As he'd stayed at Grimmauld Place before his fifth year, he'd noticed she leant into her clumsiness to get out of helping Mrs Weasley with chores. He'd tried that once, many years ago, only the Dursleys saw straight through his fruitless attempts to get out of the back-breaking work he'd eventually learned to endure.
He'd worked all of this out over the time they'd spent together at the Tonks Cottage after the war, and had come to the conclusion that she still hadn't really grown up. She'd dealt with the lack of intimate friends at school and beyond by becoming an inflated version of herself.
Leading into the part of her life in which she sought a different kind of intimacy to fill the hole left by her lack of close friends. The result was fairly similar to what he'd endured throughout his time at Hogwarts. They'd both become a 'what', not a 'who'. Defined by what they were to others, rather than the people they were themselves. While they dealt with this in their own ways, the problem was fairly similar.
He'd learnt survival at an early age, and never had the chance to explore himself. His only discernible talents were flying and fighting. While these had become necessary, he'd sometimes wished for more benign talents. Tonks he'd found, was far more creative than she usually let on, and she could sing to boot. Although, it was rather odd when she would pull off a perfect Elton John impression, sometimes morphing her face to match.
Had they gotten engaged too fast? Probably, but to them, there was no other way. He himself was a very instinctual person, while she had always been of the 'in the moment' sort. As a result, they'd become a pair that gave their all once they'd set their minds to it. As a couple that never did anything in halves, it would prove to be rarely dull.
The fun was something he didn't know he needed at first, then it had become a renaissance of his childhood. The sense of playfulness that he knew he'd inherited deep-down was finally able to make itself known. It was why he looked forward to seeing her again tonight.
Hopefully her day hadn't been boring.
She had eventually decided upon going back into the Auror Corps, and was still in the process of retraining with them all. In the midst of a procedural shake-up of the department, the outbreak of two blood wars in thirty years had damaged Britain's relations with the rest of the world gravely. With the sinking of the land into the sea, came the isolationism that lay at the core of every civilisation that made the isles their home. Even the Romans, with their rigid bureaucracy, couldn't fully stem the development of the British flavour.
Even Magicals found it bothersome to transit the Channel, and thus, over the centuries, Britishism left a mark upon her tiny population of Mages and Druids that were the basis of what Magical Britain was today. Bloody Purity, a minor attribute important to only the most aristocratic of nobles of the rest of the world, was everything here. Who your parents were dictated most of one's life, their job prospects and their standing in the community.
This oppressive culture birthed Voldemort and nurtured Grindelwald. In the end, the genocide of Muggleborns had very nearly reversed, and Purebloods now found themselves villified by the public, both here and abroad. Change was needed, and was being enacted. The only problem was: How far to go?
It would take many years to progress Wizarding Britain, at least that's what Hermione told him. The Auror Corps was the easiest place to make change, many of their number had died. Which, rather apathetically, presented the opportunity for new methodology to be tried. tested and implemented.
And Tonks was now in the middle of it. Doubtlessly, with an irritable Wilber 'guiding them' through exercise after exercise. He didn't envy her. He was beginning to quite enjoy merely discussing the theory of Defensive Magic. Not to mention experiment within his field when time allowed, as all Hogwarts professors did.
They were able to leave Teddy with Molly, giving Tonks a chance to continue her career, and he, his job. He felt better about her decision to continue her career after finding out his mentor was heading it up. Wilber's methodology emphasized teamwork rather than simple dueling. Aurors were no longer to be thrown at the enemy like sheep. Each now had defined roles and worked within teams at all times. All in all, it kept her much safer, and calmed his nerves somewhat.
A sudden increase in noise pulled him out of his thoughts and he blinked. It was a wonder he'd made it through the day in one piece with his mind wandering so.
The Great Hall was now a mass of students rushing to head back to their dormitories, or to get some study in before curfew, or less... studious pursuits. Either way, it brought him back to reality and with that, he joined the crowd. Intent upon reaching his office and trying out the new Floo connection to their new house in London.
"Professor Potter!"
He turned to see Daphne Greengrass fighting her way through the crowd towards him. "Yes?" He asked once she'd reached him, only slightly miffed that it would take longer to see Tonks now.
"Have you read the Prophet today?" She asked, studying him intently.
Blinking with the unexpectedness of the question, he took the chance to sprinkle his reply with some sarcasm. "Not cover-to-cover. Why?"
The look she gave him left him the impression that she understood all the meanings of his reply. "If you haven't then I won't bother you with it. Goodnight Professor."
Confused, he nodded and watched her walk away. Daphne Greengrass, he'd come to find out, was coldly calculating, and shrewd to boot. Her obviously aristocratic upbringing lent her the proper manners, at least he thought so, not knowing much about that sort of thing. She wasn't one to waste time, nor play games.
Why would she point my attention to the rag that I'm becoming famous for only perusing for the sports pages? Either way, it sounded like a question to ask Hermione or his fiance. I'll save it for as late as I possibly can though.
It gave him something to ponder the entire way to his office, only discontinuing his line of internal inquiry to use the Floo. After throwing a small handful of power into the flames, it glowed a bright, freindly green. "Honks's Hidey Hole!" With that he stepped into the swirling emerald flames, hoping against hope that there would not be a repeat of his very first Floo experience.
...
When he stepped out of the unfamiliar fireplace, he once again wondered at the odd name Tonks had chosen for their home. She'd taken care of adding the connection while he was busy at Hogwarts. Not to mention building the fireplace in the first place, as the renovated warehouse didn't come with one when they bought it. Magic really was brilliant sometimes, and so was she.
As he wasn't greeted the instant he arrived, it gave him the chance to look around. The former-warehouse was located in Dalston, roughly east of the very center of London. Neither were familiar with the area before they bought it, but they'd bought the house, over the location. The fact that it was a single story dwelling was something he especially welcomed. While every student of Hogwarts learnt to deal with the immovable obstacle that was the many, many stairs in an ancient castle. His personal aversion to stairs came from his first ten years of life, living under them.
Not that he mentioned this to Tonks, who fell in love with the exposed brickwork. When he noticed that he could plant modified Wardstones in the brickwork for security, that had settled it for him. They'd put in an overwhelming offer that same day. Something that included a complicated series of forms, transfers and muggle bank accounts, which he left entirely to the Goblins to take care of. Whatever fee they charged, they'd earned every knut.
What was of concern at the time was home security. It had originally been a small warehouse used by a small import/export company. Gates on either side guarded cramped lanes that led to the rear of the building, which wasn't much bigger and just as barren. Thus, he was afforded a decent amount of leeway with how he set up the Runes and what they could do. It was a task he'd 'hired' Bill for, which had led, of course, to a catch-up for Tonks and Fleur. The latter was ecstatic about their union and wanted all the details, while also cooing over little Teddy.
The result of his and Bill's labor, was a relatively muggle looking dwelling. The complicated rune matrix gave the illusion of an electrical connection, running water and the like. Setting up the few muggle appliances both Tonks and Harry were set on however, was an exercise in patience and ignoring a pounding in one's head. It eventually drove the pair to enlist the help of Arthur the Muggle Techno-Junkie to get it all working. Even then it was a near thing, as Arthur had much more experience pulling things apart than putting them together.
Loopholes aside, what they did was illegal. Not that anyone but the Ministry cared. The laws themselves were more designed to prevent muggle-baiting rather than the enchantment of Muggle appliances.
His pointing out that the Ministry did legalize magical experimentation with Muggle artifacts, led Arthur to declare that all of this was an experiment that would continue indefinitely. The elder Weasley worked on the project when he could, while recording observations that would be needed to change the law in the future. Hermione had been intrigued by the possibility of an entirely new market of Magical labor-saving appliances. Odd in his opinion, seeing as magic itself, seemed labor-saving enough.
It certaintly gave him a new respect for Arthur Weasley's talents. His position in the Ministry seemed to be entirely justified. How many Wizards could pull muggle machinery apart, enchant its individual parts, then put it all back together again so it actually worked?
"Ah, so our Lord graces us with his presence at last."
He looked towards the source of the sound and found Tonks walking in from the direction of Teddy's room. The typical sarcastic greeting highlighted the smile on her face as she closed the distance and greeted him with a hug and kiss.
"How was your day?" He asked with the woman still in his arms.
She scrunched her nose. "My boss is still a Knob."
He couldn't suppress the snort. "I could've told you that." She huffed at that and he kissed the side of her head. "At least it isn't boring."
She rolled her eyes and pushed him away. "Tea?"
"Please." He said, collapsing upon an overstuffed couch. She flicked her wand lazily in the direction of the kitchen and collapsed next to him. "So what happened today?" He tried again.
She slapped his thigh lightly. "Same old shit, and shut it. WE are watching a movie now. None of the work talk now."
He gave a huff, yet smiled and settled in, waiting for the tea to arrive. Just as the floating tea service arrived, he remembered the Greengrass girl's strange question. "Was there anything odd in the Prophet today?"
Her motions paused as she thought upon it. "I didn't read all of it, there's always plenty of odd stuff in that rag. Why do you ask?"
"One of my students asked me about it."
She snorted at his reply, she'd always found it odd when he said things like that. Like an older man. It had become something of an running joke between the two. Or more likely, a point to tease him about. Much to his chagrin.
He had to roll his eyes at her. "Do you have a copy?"
She didn't reply, but instead chose to snuggle into his body, warming him from the inside out. "Movie now, real world later."
Looks like I'm sneaking one from the table tomorrow then. "The second one?"
"Mmhmm."
He pointed his wand at one of the stacked VCR tapes in the corner and the enchantments took over. The tape divested itself of the case and floated swiftly into the machine, accompanied by the quiet whine of the mechanism taking over.
Tonks kept her promise from six months previous and they'd watched 'The Godfather' just after Arthur had finished setting everything up.
He only just understood what was going on, but he had to admit. It was brilliant. But when Tonks had drawn similarities between herself and Michael's girlfriend, he didn't like it. Whether it was the age the movie was set or not, Michael never seemed to really listen to her. She was clearly a smart woman. It just rubbed him the wrong way.
He paused the movie when her words struck home. "No way. If I don't listen to you, you'll hex me into submission." She snorted at that. "I just don't like the way he treats her. I know he's under pressure, but she's just going to become someone to raise the kids. She's pretty much like a trophy."
"Aww, am I not your trophy?" She cooed, a mock put-out look upon her face.
He snorted. "Granted, you're fit." He gave her a wink. "But we do things together."
"That we do." Her hand trailed along his thigh. "And if you keep talking like that, we're going to be doing a lot more things together."
The idea tempted him far too much to be able to watch the rest of the movie right now. He couldn't help but shiver involuntarily, she always had this effect on him now. The movie was forgotten, the pause marking where they had got to as they 'did things together'.
He couldn't know then. But his words would come back to bite him, eventually.
"What's the second one like?" He asked as the TV flickered into life.
"It focuses more on Vito, though of course Michael is the Godfather now." She replied from somewhere below his head.
"Oh ok. I'll check on Teddy before we turn in after this." He heard a murmur of agreement and settled in. Watching movies with someone had been a new experience for him, but they'd quickly become something he cherished.
The movie was arguably better than the first already fantastic movie. The odd part was the similarities he'd noticed between Vito Corleone and himself. A stranger starting a new life in a small community in a new world. The only difference being that fact that Vita had earned his fame, he himself had it thrust upon him the instant he stepped foot into the magical world.
People treated Vito as they treated himself, with awe and fear.
The movie blurred the line that separated good and evil, a benevolent benefactor, and a murderer. How both could combine to make life better or worse.
He wasn't really interested in Michael's story, while he did admire the man's ruthlessness at times. Vito's humble beginnings, and his rise drew him in. Maybe one day I could be respected like that, for helping people. Not for fighting scum.
He doubted this idea very much. Fighting seemed to be in his blood, there just seemed to be not much else he could actually do well. Had he helped enough? Was that not what he was doing now as a teacher? He glanced down at Tonks and shook his head of such thoughts, refocusing back upon the movie.
...
Professor Potter rolled his shoulders in an attempt to loosen them of the stiffness that came from sleeping on the couch with someone pressed into your side. Not that he would trade his little slice of peace for anything in the world. Thankfully, he'd become used to the many instances of this soreness after half a year of it.
Sleeping in such a way was bloody uncomfortable though. With the fact that he had second years to teach up first, he had a suspicion that combining such circumstances wouldn't lead to an enjoyable day. In an effort to save face, he poured himself some coffee first before even thinking of attacking his breakfast. At least he was growing more and more comfortable with sitting in full view of the entire student contingent.
At that moment, he remembered the article. "Aurora?" He asked the Astronomy Professor tentatively, it still felt odd to call teachers by their first names. The fact that was quite strikingly attractive took the edge of his nerves a touch, as did the fact that she'd never taught him personally. "Do you by any chance have yesterday's Prophet?"
She gave him a smile and nod, pointing to the paper on her left.
He returned the smile as thanks, then levitated the paper over to himself, not noticing the look of surprise on her face as he did this wandlessly and silently. Instead, he was thanking Merlin for her addictive hobby of looking for patterns between issues of the paper. He'd long attributed it to looking at the stars for a profession. Seeing patterns was a job requirement, and it was nigh impossible to see stars in the daytime.
As he carefully scoured the paper, he puzzled over what exactly he was looking for. The unique style of the Prophet didn't help, with articles squished into gaps that first seemed impossible. The most infuriating to him was that in order to fit, some needed him to turn the paper so he could read them. The erstwhile Quibbler may have needed to be turned upside-down of occasion, but that was for only one article if his memory served. The Prophet was just serving its job of giving him a headache.
Even more annoying was the fact he had no leads to go on. Greengrass hadn't actually given him any hints about what he should be looking for. After fifteen minutes of searching he decide he needed some help. Grumbling to himself all the while, he sent the girl a message using a spell that Wilber had taught him. The spell shot from the end of his wand at a high rate of speed and hit the girl who was just taking her seat, she blinked then looked at him questioningly. The spell was opaque enough to not be noticed by most, only Minerva gave him an odd look as he'd seemingly directed a spell at one of her charges.
Harry didn't notice this and instead, made a big show of looking irritated at the paper. While he'd asked her to come to the Teacher's Table, she instead held up five fingers. He couldn't help but show his displeasure with a huff and turned to page five, resuming his search once more. After a few minutes, he found something promising:
PUREBLOOD CONSERVATIVE FOUND MURDERED IN FRANCE.
Or that's what he could read without turning the paper again. What's wrong with just compiling this fucking thing like a normal person? Of course not, it's the Wizarding World. He answered himself with a sigh. Even giving a chuckle when he pictured Uncle Vernon trying to read it.
Peirre Ducard, leader of the conservative bloc in the French Ministry was found dead last night in his Ancestral Manor. The grizzly death was discovered by one of his house elves. The French Auror Department released a short statement, citing the lack of evidence and reassuring the public that an investigation is ongoing. France's conservative bloc will surely weaken from the death of one of their leading lights in their Wizengamot. More to come.
It served as a reminder to him that just because Voldemort was dead, evil still existed. Not that he knew what this all had to do with him, being in a different country and all. After the death of Voldemort, the 'British Conservative Bloc', their official name, had been weakened substantially as the more outspoken of their number were either killed or captured. According to Hermione: The Bloc now consisted mainly of older Traditionalists and the few darker families that had not hypocritically thrown their weight behind a Halfblood.
Deciding that he needed all of the facts, he grabbed his goblet of coffee and descended from the raised platform to get said facts. He reached the Slytherin Table quickly, goblet in hand. "Miss Greengrass?"
She turned to him, her face impassive. "Yes Professor?"
He took a sip from his coffee before reply, as he'd neglected to during his perusal of the Prophet. "If you could, please come to my office after dinner." The formal nature of interacting with students, That weren't Hermione and Neville, grated on occasion, this being one of the times.
She merely nodded and he swept back to his place, finally able to tuck into his breakfast. Even if his appetite had been curbed by his morning so far.
...
Once again. Professor Potter was congratulating himself upon his decision to implement meditation into his classes.
While it was an important part of gaining greater control over one's magical power. It also served to calm them and allowed him to speak with minor interruptions after their short meditations. In fact, by now, his students had grown used to the routine and little instruction was needed. The ones that worked the hardest had shown the greatest results he'd found. Although it affected them in varying ways.
This was most evident in his two best friends. Hermione had grown far more confident and sure of herself after each short session. The improved preciseness of her spellwork surprised him after a couple months of his classes. He'd often wondered if her mind whirred at a million miles a minute most of the day, and as a result, she had to focus far too much upon her spells to work properly. The meditation had calmed her mind and she seemed to think far clearer than before. The fact that she was bright enough without gaining further clarity led him to both fear, and feel immense pride for her at the same time.
Neville meanwhile was almost on the other end of the scale. With his new wand, greater confidence and time spend focussing upon his magic. The result was a Wizard Harry had no intention of crossing wands with. The look in his eyes particularly reminded him of himself after his sessions with Wilber. He was sure Neville's magic was itching to be used and directed, much like his own. After the first month, his friend had started to tremble after each session, and after more than a few overpowered spells. Harry had taken him aside and worked to encourage him to channel it in other ways, apart from becoming a ticking-time-bomb.
It took a while, and a few after class sessions of individual work. But he'd been proud of the results, so much so that he'd asked his friend to think about joining the Auror Corps. Though only if Herbology was merely a hobby, which he suspected it wasn't. Harry was of the personal opinion that Neville would join the staff as he did, taking Pomona's place. The witch herself had begun talking of offering him an apprenticeship after graduating in the various staff meetings that he hadn't known existed until this year.
As odd as it was, a prestigious school as Hogwarts was, employing ONE professor who hadn't yet reached twenty years of age. Neville would perhaps be an apprentice for many years before Pomona would be ready to relinquish her classes to him. It helped that he knew his friend would take them as seriously as he took his own classes. Having a purpose helped, and while he did struggle as new ideas were tested, changed or discarded: DADA at Hogwarts was on track to become one the best in the world someday.
An effect of some of the changes; of the four houses taking DADA classes together, was the cooling of tensions between the houses. The split in personalities was easy to see, but the respect they'd held for each other now made him smile. The fact that the Slytherin's had been sent to the dungeons in the Battle, in hindsight, was a sad thing. Of course he understood their position, but it meant that the defenders were outnumbered further, leading to more deaths.
Something he still felt responsible for deep down.
His thoughts were interrupted by the fact that meditation time was now over, and it was time for him to speak to this group of fifth years. "Now." Various students opened their eyes to give him their attention. "I'm sure you've guessed this, but we will still be working upon our project today. You have your plans, and your partners. Get started."
He watched them break into conversation, finding their partners and continuing their project. Said project was for them to identify their own weaknesses and improve upon them. They'd created their plans and he'd looked them over. Now they continued with the activities and tasks they had designed themselves to improve their spellwork, or their agility, or their spell choice. It certainly made his workload easier with an entire year's level in a single class. The introspection would help them study for their OWLS, at least he hoped so.
A pair caught his eye. The boy was throwing what looked like Stinging Jinxes at the girl who dodged most, but one caught her on the hip, causing a squeak of pain. He swept towards them as she recovered and the boy gave a small chuckle. "You're doing well Miss Davies. Just try to pivot instead of jumping so you don't get caught in the air."
She nodded and settled, waiting for the boy to ready himself. Harry merely stayed to watch, he couldn't pair their plans with their names. But he sure would recognise it when he saw how they worked on it. At least he hoped he did. He was doing a lot of that this year.
Once he nodded, she started casting the Impedimenta Hex at him while he deflected as many as he could. She threw two in quick succession, leading to the second one hitting home as he deflected the first in a wide arc.
To Harry's surprise, once the boy was frozen, she flicked him on the nose. Obviously they have to be friends at the least. The whole situation was so ludicrous it forced a laugh out of his mouth before he could stop it. The girl smirked at him as he unfroze the boy, rather than wait for the short-lived spell to wear off.
"That wasn't too bad Mr. Layton. Just keep your wand along the centerline of your body and avoid wide-sweeping movements." The boy looked a little down so he threw something else in. "Your problems are quite similar actually." He observed and the pair blushed. Giving him the impetus to get out of there before he embarrassed the pair further.
Although there was something to be said for embarrassing students in a non-demeaning way for fun.
...
Paperwork would be bane of his existence he'd decided.
The completed report on his desk was to be sent to the Ministerial Examinations board to dissect. His changes to the methodology and core aims of the whole subject were under review, and he was the guinea pig. Despite the fact that the changes were his own, it was deemed necessary to report his findings to the Ministry.
As glad as he was that they were finally taking things seriously now, the increase in reports cut into his time at home with Teddy and Tonks. This particular report was especially important in the fact it would outline the OWL exams themselves. Important enough that he'd skipped dinner, and his stomach rumbled in displeasure. The tea, maliciously so, served merely to amplify his hunger.
As he wallowed, a knock was heard on his office door. Instead of replying, he glanced at the carriage clock upon his desk before opening the door with a flick of his hand. Daphne took this all in stride, sitting in one of the chairs before his desk, and fixed him with an impassive stare.
Taking the hint, he closed the door with a similar wave, sealing the runework that made his office as private as the Minister's own. He sensed that eschewing the formalities was the best way here. "What's so special about a French politician dying?"
"Do you know who my father is?" She shot back.
He shrugged. "Not a clue."
"He's in the magical substances trade, the muggle pen you're holding is probably made up of what he'd procured." She gestured to the special muggle style fountain pen he was fiddling with. Hermione had done it all via owl post, sourcing the pens from Japan of all places. Apparently, the Muggle Japanese still had a niche market for fountain pens. The details, as usual with Hermione, were a mystery to him. The results however, were beautiful: The tip was a bronze Griffin's claw, with a similar bronze Hippogriff feather that spiraled its way along the smooth obsidian to the cap.
It was certainly interesting information, but wasn't the answer he was currently looking for.
"And?"
"Most of his business comes from Europe, so of course, he spends much time abroad." She allowed.
"He knows who killed that politician?"
She pursed her lips. "No, but he'd worried, I can tell. There's some unrest throughout the continent."
"What sort of unrest?" He asked, wondering still what in the hell this had to do with him.
"The Anti-Pureblood kind."
He just sat back and tried to understand what he'd just heard. After dealing with Pureblood superiority complexes for so long, the opposite just seemed... odd. "Why?"
The girl in front of him shrugged.
Pursed lips gave away his impatience. "What does this have to do with me?"
Whatever feelings the girl had, she kept her calm. "Probably nothing. But if it's true, then my family is in danger."
Ah, so that's it. He finally realized why she was here, and why she brought this to his attention. Despite withdrawing from public life and becoming a Professor, he was still 'The Saviour'. The gentle fury within fought to be released the longer he thought over it, after some struggle, he managed to contain it.
"Then you should contact Head of the DMLE, Hestia Jones with your concerns."
She didn't look convinced at this. And this time, he understood. At least he would have a year ago. "We have an ex Auror as Minister, and Hestia is a friend. Pen the letter like a normal person and she will look into it." He consoled.
The Greengrass heir still didn't look convinced, making him sigh. "Bring your letter here before you send it off, I'll add my seal next to yours. Deal?"
With his declaration, she smiled and immediately he felt like a student once more. Something she brought up as the first piece of light-hearted conversation they'd had to date: "The most Gryffindor, Gryffindor I've ever met."
He gave a snort at this, for Tonks had said the same thing once or twice before. "As Head-of-House, I must uphold our traditions. You only need to look at Professor Slughorn as an example of Slytherin."
They both shared a smirk at the expense of the rather unsubtle Potions Master.
…
"How'd it go?" He asked a troubled looking Hermione. Today was the day she had reintroduced their bill that permitted Muggle Fountain Pens to be used during education and tests. While it wasn't monumental in importance, it lay the foundation for further reform. Also the fact that his friend had bemoaned quills on and off for the past seven years may have had something to do with it.
"Oh, It passed." Was her reply, though the look on her face undercut any happiness he would have otherwise felt.
Hermione glanced around his office, seemingly trying to make sense of what she'd seen. He actually felt slightly bad for her that his office was still bland and basic, apart from one photo of himself and Tonks. Even as March itself loomed.
"What's wrong?" He ventured when it seemed like she'd had enough thinking time. She looked at him like he shouldn't know something was up, and was surprised that he'd picked it out from her expression. Her huff merely made him roll his eyes at her. "Occlumency doesn't hide facial expression you know." The surprise in her eyes was reaching comical levels after that, so he decided to spare her. "Tell me. You've been the brains of most of my operations so far, you're rarely ever wrong."
Her countenance remained perturbed. "They, they just gave in. Barely any debate. They just passed it. Even Augusta had more reservations about it."
That made him pause, Augusta had been nominated and had taken the position of Chief Warlock after the war. Calling Lady Longbottom by her title of 'Warlock' still gave him the odd chuckle as she had more balls than half of the Wizengamot when it came down to it. While she was firmly on the side of the 'light', the long-time Lady was still old fashioned. The fact that it passed so easily on the second try struck him as odd as well.
A success, however, was a success, and he smiled. "Well, either way it worked. And this,-" He twirled the rather ornate fountain pen in hand. "-is now legal."
She gave her own eye roll at this and stood. "Should we still go ahead with the next one?"
It wasn't really a question, they'd agreed that she could present what she wanted as long as he knew about it. He had enough confidence in her to look after his interests, even if he really didn't have many. He also knew she was itching to start campaigning for the better treatment of House Elves. She had agreed to pursue something more attainable to start with, and that had been achieved. As a result, the path forward was clear.
At least Dora will love the pen I got her.
"I don't see why not. Have fun." He added with a smirk, knowing full well she loved every second in the Wizengamot Chambers. She had even reacquainted herself with Percy in Administration, much to the older redhead's surprise.
She favored him with a scowl and grin before leaving. When she did he checked the calendar Tonks had gotten him. After laughing uproariously at his story about Sirius's old bedroom, she bought him a similar calendar. The fact that bikini clad muggle women were on every page, forced him to enchant it so only he could see it. Something he had to enlist Hermione's help for, much to the girl's amusement.
He glanced at it once more. I wonder if I could get a calendar with Dora on each page? He shook himself at the thought. A man can dream I suppose.
When he did find the correct date without being distracted by thoughts of his fiancé half-naked on the wall. He noted it was Friday night, meaning he could floo straight to the Manor tonight. The Manor had become their weekend getaway from London, The Ministry and Hogwarts.
The collective student body knew it was a bad idea to roam to halls when Professor Potter was on patrol. Tuesday to Thursday nights the Castle was emptier than usual as he used the Marauder's map to reduce the time needed to patrol. Students found out after only a month that Professor Potter had a knack for turning up at precisely the wrong time if they were out of bed after hours.
In fact, he was sure that night-time wandering increased tenfold on nights when he wasn't patrolling. But after all, he'd spent more time than most out of bed so he couldn't begrudge them that. Even if he did had the advantage of both the Map and Cloak. At least he hadn't caught Neville and Luna yet. And he suspected he never would as both knew about the map. Thank god.
After looking over his desk and determining that he could escape the school without leaving loose ends. He grabbed some of the floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. "Potter Manor!"
His arrival was immediately noticed by Bobi, he found the elf bowing low before he'd even properly alighted upon the old polished dark wood. "Master Harry, Mistress Tonks is in the nursery."
"Thanks Bobi, how's things?"
"Fine Master." The look upon the elf's face at the thought of anything not being fine nearly made him laugh.
He gave up trying to get anything further out of the elf. "I assume we will be having tea somewhere, just not sure where yet." Despite his vague instruction, the elf nodded and disappeared. With his solitude now re-established, he climbed the stairs to say hello to his family.
The only problem with his new occupation was the reduction of time spent with both Tonks and Teddy. After the months of routine living with them both at the cottage, he missed them both terribly when he was forced to stay at the castle. The fact that she had gone back into re-training with the Auror's caused him more worry, but he was confident in Wilber and his ability. There was no question of her retiring just because it might be dangerous, she was nothing like Molly Weasley.
He knew she also felt the guilt of leaving Teddy behind while she went back to work. They'd danced around the subject, but everything he'd heard made him think that the child was not planned. But now little Teddy had become the last memory of a man she used to love, thus the guilt of leaving him to continue her career. There were far too many emotions involved for him to understand, that didn't stop him from trying to help in his own way. The fact of the matter was there really wasn't much he could do, if she didn't ask him to do anything.
Not that he knew what to do. Crying girls were his weak point, for a man who Dumbledore had claimed loved like no other, he lacked natural empathy. This made any heavy discussion laden with danger, a danger he would say the wrong thing due to not knowing any better. Emotional maturity was the biggest difference they shared. And not just because of their age difference, his childhood had reinforced time and time again, other priorities. A comforting hug was his only real weapon with an upset female, and that was after he got over the oddness of bodily contact with others.
With a start he realized that he'd reached the nursery, pushing aside thoughts that confused him. He stepped into the room and saw Tonks playing with Teddy. Instinct drove him to approach her and he hugged her from behind. "Hey."
"Hey." Her reply seemed wistful, but he didn't draw attention to it. Instead looking at Teddy.
"I swear he gets bigger every time I see him." While certainly a cliché saying, the child took it to extremes. The Healers did say the child would have an accelerated development, but to see it happen before his eyes was incredible. The best reason they could give was the Lyncanthopic effect that prioritised survival over everything else. Much like a wolf in the wild, the pup would need to develop quicker to survive or risk being left behind. Teddy didn't even look much like a baby anymore.
Suddenly, she turned to look him fully in the face. The look upon hers was something he'd rarely seen before, the kind of insecurity that he usually showed. "You love me right?"
The question was so unexpected, it took some time to formulate a reply. "I wouldn't be here otherwise."
"You were there for Teddy." She corrected.
If he had any empathy, he would have disabused her of that notion before things got out of hand. Instead he said. "I was. Sirius was almost the father I never had, the fact that he was chosen by my parents made it gospel. I... wanted to be as special to Teddy as Sirius was to me." He played with some strands of her dark curly hair without thinking. "If anyone had told me I would be here, with you, six months ago. I'd have told them to see Madam Pomfrey, but now..."
He realized in his pause that he would have to explain everything, something that despite months of being together, was rarely brought up. He wasn't sure which started it, but they'd come to an unspoken agreement that they needed to recover from the war first. The fact that it would have taken him longer to recover had only just hit him then. This discussion was in fact, well overdue.
That didn't mean he was prepared for it, though he'd thought about it many times when his mind would slip from paperwork or during a quiet moment alone.
He simply watched the way the glow in her irises flickered between innumerable colors. "You saved me Dora. I've spent so long fighting for freedom that I didn't know what to do when I got it. I hated being alone, but I'd become used to it. I was fully prepared to rot in Grimmauld Place until I literally bumped into you. You just dropped whatever you were doing and helped me, without it being a life and death scenario. In that bank, I finally made a choice that wasn't forced upon me. It wasn't just my godson I thought of. I saw you, a recently widowed mother with about as much family as myself."
Unable to stand any longer, he released her and collapsed into the comfy armchair that took residence in the nursery. "You intrigued me Dora. Years ago I met this clumsy Auror who loved life. One of the few people who ever flirted with me. Then I got to see you fight, then you got hurt and Sirius got killed. The curse didn't work on Bellatrix because I hadn't worked everything out. Only when the old man told me how he fucked up did I realise something else. It wasn't just my pseudo family I lost, you lost a cousin. I... I was so angry, I'd already resigned myself to suffering, but everything else that I did, made it worse."
The words were tumbling from his lips faster than he could stop them. "Five years of schooling and I slacked, if I'd have tried harder, I could have learnt to fight better, to stop anyone else from feeling what I felt. Then you fell in love with Remus, you were distracted, not the same woman I'd come to respect and love in my own broken way." His jaw worked. "Not that I knew it. Then you came to take me to the Burrow and you looked so happy with him-."
"I was." She cut in, still standing near the crib, staring at Teddy.
Silence stretched between them, not awkwardly so, but laden with emotion and the marshaling of one's thoughts.
"Why me?" His traitorous mouth blurted.
She continued to stare at Teddy. "Because you're a man." She said simply. "Remus I don't think fully accepted that we were together. He'd long decided that love was something for others, not him. It's not really his fault, it's just that he was bitten so young, and was used to being ostracized by everyone." As he struggled to put the pieces together, she turned and moved to sit on his lap. The simple action comforted him, as he waited for her to continue. "You're different. You want to love, so much so that you'll suffer endlessly for it, gladly even. I see a man who did something for me. Remus was just too unwilling to give, it didn't matter how well off or not he was. I needed someone for me. It hurt to give everything, only to receive a child in return. Not that I don't love my little boy, it's just..."
"Yeah." He finished for her. He waited another moment before continuing, soaking up the feeling of her in his arms again. "You made my world brighter. I forgot how much there is to life until I spent time with you. I didn't even realize what I was feeling until you kissed me on the doorstep. It confused me so much I needed 'Mione to set me straight." She snorted softly at that
"The fact is the little one brought us together, but you're why I stayed. You see me as me and I see you as you. I'd do anything for you. Does that make sense?"
"Yes." She said breathlessly as she melted into his embrace. Her hair tickled his nose, but apart from that, it was a satisfactory position for him to ponder on what had just transpired. Did we get engaged too soon? Probably... But I think leaping without looking is something we both do. And I don't think I'd have it any other way.
"Tea?" He asked.
"Nope."
"Gillywater it is then. Come on, let's not drink in front of the child." She rose and led the way to the drawing room. He followed while playing with her currently long hair, in fact the hair lengthened under his touch. He loved her hair, at least when it was her natural style. It had the light brunette similar to Andromeda, the softening of the Bellatrix-like curls he figured had something to do with her father Ted.
In fact there wasn't much he didn't like about her, apart from the fact she felt the need to cover up the small smattering of freckles over her nose. Or the clumsiness that seemed to strike at the most inopportune time, half the time during the bedroom. But the fact that they both laughed about it made it easier to bear, and helped him feel far more comfortable with her than almost any woman previously.
He was drawn from his thoughts by the clink of glass. What is it with this bloody house that makes me wonder about random shit as I walk the halls? The huge house had many halls to make one ponder on their way to their destination. It was a wonder the portraits of family members that filled the many rooms weren't constantly painted into a thinking pose, chin-upon-fist like.
He took the offered glass and collapsed upon the similarly couch in front of the fire, with her collapsing next to him, half leaning on him. "How was work?" He asked, glad they could now move onto less heavy subjects.
"More bloody teamwork training." She complained. "And two more moved to the LE group."
"I'm glad Wilber never made me go through that heavily. I'm not good at teamwork."
She snorted. "No shit, you come over all Rambo and go in guns blazing."
"You know you secretly love it." He teased.
"Not gonna lie, when you go all Neo, I'll happily be your Trinity."
Memories of the just-released movie came to mind. Making him grin. "I thought you already were, I can see you in full-leather."
She wiggled slightly into his side. "Since when did you get the hang of flirting?"
So that was flirting? "Flirting? I was just being honest." He answered with an undertone of confusion.
"Mmmm."
"It would be fun to see you in action though." He mused. "It'd be a nice break from teaching first-years to not spell themselves."
"I'll let the Bossman know." She replied and a comfortable silence stretched between them, the only sound being the crackling of the fire. "Did you find out what that student wanted to tell you?"
He took a sip of his drink. "Mmhmm, do you know the Greengrasses?"
She waved a hand. "Only as far as I know we're related through... somebody."
"She thinks that she's in danger, something to do with Anti-Pureblood sentiment in Europe."
She swirled the liquid in her glass, inspecting its contents. "Why did she go to you? Not the Ministry?"
"I wondered about that, I think she wanted my backing. Like she wouldn't be taken seriously on her own." He shrugged. "Which, I suppose, is fair, considering how things were when the Pureblood mania was in vogue."
She smirked suddenly. "In vogue eh? Where'd you pick that up?"
"The bloke I've been working with for months, before becoming a professor, is pretty much a muggle wielding a wand." He protested before smirking himself at the idea of Wilber. "Some of the older folk have trouble understanding him actually, it's entertaining actually."
They let their amusement die slowly, almost as if the fire before them used it as fuel. Individually basking in the warmth from it, the drink, and each other. It was moments like this, he'd long decided, made it all worth it.
Tonks ended the digression neatly. "What did you say?"
He took another sip, waiting for the slight burn to dissipate before replying. "I told her I'd back her, I just want to see the letter first." He gave her a squeeze. "I'm done getting personally involved in that shit, much easier letting your name do the work eh?"
She thumped him on the chest without much malice. "Pighead." She then settled back into his side. "You stay as Professor Potter, thank you very much." She murmured.
He gave a snort. "For a Professor, I haven't taught YOU much. Sometimes… I feel it's the reverse."
"You did NOT, just call me old!" she straightened and looked at him incredulously, but the twinkle in her eyes betrayed her real feelings.
He mirrored her posture. "You're young at heart Dora, just like I'm a grumpy old bastard at mine."
"Good boy." She traced his darkening jaw with a finger before her gaze focussed in upon it. "I'll have no complaints if you grow a stubble you know."
"I do, it itches." He grumped.
"Aww, for me? Pweease?" She cooed.
He nearly fell for it, instead he smirked. "So is this your way of saying I look too young for you?"
Her eyes widened innocently momentarily before she abruptly changed the subject. "I got Hermione's letter by the way. It passed?"
He nearly spat out his drink in mirth at the overt change in subject, but decided to answer her anyway, seeing as he figured she only read the first few sentences of the letter that was a universal standard for Proxies when communicating with those they represented. "Yeah it did. But she's suspicious, apparently it passed far too easily. Considering it was shot down not long ago."
Her eyes narrowed at this but seemed to give it up as a bad job as she settled back in. "Either way I'm happy, the pens are far sexier anyway."
For a second time, Gillywater was nearly spat onto the carpet. "What!? How are pens sexy?"
She waved him off. "You'd never understand."
"I'm not sure I want to, to be honest." He replied with a shake of his head. If anything, Tonks was definitely not boring.
...