Dear Mr Potter,
It is my pleasure to invite you to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
Please write us with your acceptance of the position. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.
Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress
Harry sighs and rests his head on his hand. He hadn't truly believed he would get the position. Having never gone back for his NEWTs, he had been fairly certain he is undeniably underqualified to teach.
Truth be told, he's not entirely certain he is ready to return to wizarding Britain. After spending nearly a decade traveling remote villages and beast sanctuaries, only visiting his loved ones for the holidays, the thought of willingly installing himself in such a visible position is nothing short of terrifying.
And yet.
Harry sets down the parchment on the log next to himself and reaches into his breast pocket for the newest letters from his best friends as well as from his godson. Hermione is pregnant. Harry has already written back with his congratulations and acceptance of the honor of being the godfather to their firstborn.
Grinning to himself, Harry leafs through the letter pages, finally coming to a drawing at the back of the sheaf. He cannot help but smile wistfully at the duo drawn on the parchment. Teddy is becoming quite the artist, depicting himself and Harry standing at the base of a mountain, dragons flying in the sky above. Although Teddy thinks Harry's travel stories are just the coolest, Harry himself can't help feeling like a bit of a failure as a godfather. He has missed most of his godson's childhood, running away from the spotlight to hide in places like this gentle werewolf pack's home forest in the Siberian taiga he is currently camped at. Were he to go back now, he would still have the chance to spend time with Teddy before his teenage years, and hopefully become someone his godson can rely on, instead of being a cool but absent uncle figure. And for Hermione and Ron, he wants to be there for his best friends during this no doubt exciting but scary time.
Apprehensive though he is, Harry summons his writing implements from his tent in order to write back to McGonagall.
August
The other teachers are already sat around the table when Harry arrives for dinner on the night before term starts. The configuration looks familiar, bringing to mind Christmas from his childhood at Hogwarts, although many of the teachers are now unfamiliar to him.
“Harry!”
He cannot help but smile from ear to ear as he embraces a bouncing Neville, though a different face has caught his attention. Grinning lopsidedly, with a familiar head of bright orange hair, sitting at the table is none other than Charlie Weasley.
It happens that there is a vacant spot next to Charlie, so Harry takes it. But before he has a chance to catch up with the one Weasley he know the least, a dreamy voice from his other side interrupts.
“Oh dear, poor mister Potter. What misfortune has befallen you to drive you back from your adventures, lowered to the humble position of a teacher?”
Harry cannot help the laugh that escapes him at Trelawney's dramatics, although he manages to keep it at a friendly tambre.
“Just wanted to work closer to family,” he answers, glancing at Charlie. There is a knowing smile in the other man's eyes, gentle crow's feet beginning to crincle their corners. While he is turned away, he feels Trelawney grab his hand for a bit of impromptu palmistry.
“Oh dear, oh dear, what do we have here? What dangers lie in wait for you, my boy?” There is a silence during which Harry rolls his eyes at a silently chuckling Charlie and turns to face the divination teacher.
“Hmm, curious,” she says, eyes bulging behind her glasses, “but I see no imminent danger. In fact, your life line is quite long, and this here... it seems there is romance ahead!”
This time Harry's laugh is quite uncontrolled as he takes in the horror in Trelawney's voice, as if a happy and healthy life is the worst possible fate she could have foreseen for Harry.
September
After his last class, Harry grabs his broom and heads out, intending to clear his head a little. The weather is calm, gentle wind rustling the treetops and carrying gentle clouds, hiding the glare of the sun.
By the looks of it, on the front lawn the first years' flying class has just wrapped up. Harry is surprised to see Charlie instead of Madam Hooch helping the last stragglers with their brooms. Their gazes meet, and Charlie nods his head in a way that Harry takes as invitation to stick around.
When the last of the students' brooms are stowed away, Harry approaches.
“Just subbing in,” Charlie calls as he shoulders his broom, “Rolanda caught that cold that's been going around.”
Harry smiles and calls back, “Care to join me for some extracurricular flying?”
And up they go.
For two of the fastest seekers in Gryffindor history, they kick off surprisingly calmly. After a few loops and dives they settle into a lazy pace above the Forbidden Forest, laughing breathlessly.
“So tell me, Charlie,” Harry says once he's caught his breath, “what made you leave Romania?”
“Mm, this is actually already my second year teaching,” Charlie smiles back. “I guess we did just miss each other last Christmas, so I'm not surprised you didn't know.”
Yanking his robe from fluttering in the wind, Charlie adjust it so the hem shows his leg up to his knee. Below the joint his leg meets a simple but beautifully carved wooden prosthesis.
“I wouldn't have been the first amputee to keep working at the sanctuary, but as you yourself told Trelawney just a few days ago, there's family to consider.” Charlie's smile is wistful as he gazes at the horizon, no doubt recalling the good times he had in Romania. ”And teaching Care of Magical Creatures is quite a lot of fun, the critters are positively cuddly compared to dragons. To be honest, I'm more surprised to see you back. I thought you were rooming with Asian banshees or something?”
“Camping with werewolves,” Harry laughs, “but I suppose your point stands.”
They circle over a clearing where a herd of thestrals is napping, and turn their heading back toward the school.
“I know it's backwards, but this is much scarier than any of my travels so far. Coming back, I mean.” Harry sighs through the lump of anxiety that has lodged in his throat. “But, I want to be there, be here, for Teddy and... You know.”
Charlie smiles gently as they start coming down from their altitude. “Time to put that famous bravery into play, Harry.”
They circle past the quidditch pith, where the Hufflepuff team seems to be catching an early start to the season. Harry hears a distant shout of “-would make such a cute couple, right?” from the pitch and smiles. Ah, to be young and preoccupied with who is dating whom. As they land and dismount, Harry wonders if this simple life isn't just what he might need to regain some of that innocence himself.
Halloween
The Three Broomsticks is hot and noisy, teachers laughing and yelling over each other. Harry rubs a hand through his air and against his scalp, trying to take deeper breaths. A soft leather shoe brushes against his calf, the foot within hard and unyielding. Harry looks up to find Charlie smiling gently at him. He nods his head toward the door and Harry sighs in relief.
They extricate themselves from the busy crowd and burst out into the cool autumn evening. Harry gulps down the night air as a strong arm slings around his shoulders.
“Ahh, what a night it's been. Let's walk back to the castle, yeah?”
Harry leans into Charlie's side for a bit, humming his ascent, but as they start walking they drift apart and the other man's arm falls away. Harry's heart does drums an extra beat against his ribcage. He's had too much to drink, probably.
Christmas
This year they don't miss each other at Christmas. In fact, they apparate to the Burrow together, with an armful of presents each.
They sit next to each other at the table. Harry laughs at George and enjoys the meal.
They sit side by side on the sofa. Harry feels warm as he sips on his eggnog.
They hide together behind the broom shed as the kids throw snowballs at every living soul within sight. And as Charlie throws him into the snow, he yelps and laughs whilst secretly wishing he would tumble down after Harry, press his body on top and bracket Harry's head with those muscled arms of his. There is a small silence, just a moment too long as they grin at each other and Harry can't help but let his eyes drift to Charlie's lips.
And then they are scampering away together as the children screech and giggle whilst pelting the two of them with an absolute storm of snowballs.
Valentine's day
Harry sprints down the snowy path to Hagrid's hut, hoping to take refuge from the pink valentines floating behind him at the retired teacher's cottage. As he bursts in and slams the door shut behind him, he discovers he isn't the only one hiding out here.
Harry grins at Charlie, who is sat at the round table with a tea cup the size of a soup bowl, and asks, “Valentines?”
Charlie sighs and points at the window, where several pink and purple cards are flapping in the air and colliding with the window, making small tapping noises against the glass.
Although the circumstances are less than perfect, it turns into one of Harry's favourite afternoons of the year. Hagrid's cooking is as inedible as always, but finding creative ways to hide vanishing it quickly turns into a hilarious game between Charlie as himself. By the time night falls and they start walking back to the castle, most of the valentines have run out of steam and lie in forlorn heaps under the windows of the hut.
“This one is really stubborn,” Harry exclaims as he bats away one of the stragglers. “Whoever charmed is must be a seventh year, the magic is really well done.”
“No wonder,” Charlie starts and grins, “I mean, if I'd had as handsome a teacher as you at seventeen, I'd also have been motivated to charm the best valentine's card I could.”
Harry laughs and blushes. “I'm certain that the most desirable teacher by far is you, with your dashing dragon tamer's looks and all!”
“Mm,” Charlie hums and smiles. “I'm ace though, that's a deal-braker for quite a few potential suitors. Not that it's any of the student's business, I'm just saying.”
“That sounds fine to me,” Harry replies and decidedly does not look at Charlie at his side. “Maybe even better than, you know.”
Suddenly Charlie is grabbing Harry's hand, drawing them to a halt in the shadow of the castle. He looks serious, his eyes searching Harry's face, but the tiny crows feet betray his good mood.
“You shouldn't say things like that. I might get ideas.”
“Maybe I want you to,” Harry breathes and leans in slightly.
Charlie meets him halfway. His leather gloved fingers slide in between Harry's curls to cup his head as Harry himself grabs Charlie's wool scarf to tug him down into a kiss, hot like a steaming cup of tea and soft like a worn-in wool jumper.
April
Harry is feeling flushed and just a little anxious again after spending the night at the Three Broomsticks, but he doesn't regret a second of it. It's good to get out of the castle and relax, even if his tolerance of crowds isn't quite what it used to be.
An added bonus of spending the evening in Hogsmeade is getting to walk back alone with Charlie, pressed into his side with a strong arm flung over his shoulders. Their laughs mix in the quiet of the night as they make their way through the spring mist, occasionally stumbling a little and holding each other for support.
And if he doesn't quite make it up to his own quarters, it is only for the better. They settle in for a peaceful sleep in Charlie's homey bedroom, feet tangled together in a way that is by now familiar to both.
May
Harry cannot help but clutch Charlie's hand in the last row of the quidditch station seats as he follows the plays and strategies of the teams, enraptured by the cup finals. As the Hufflepuff score and make the game even, Charlie pries his fingers away from Harry's vice-like grip.
“You are crushing my bones,” he whispers and grabs Harry's jaw to turn it into an amused kiss.
“Oh shit!” the announcer interrupts himself, “Professor Weasley is kissing professor Potter!”
Harry gasps a surprised laugh into the kiss and leans back. He's embarrassed, sure, but not afraid to be discovered. They look around to see the announcer, who looks like he might well be Lee Jordan's young cousin, get admonished by professor McGonagall.
“-sorry, professor, it's just that I bet quite a few galleons on them being together and Nichols owes me money now. Did you hear that, Pete?” there is a pregnant pause as they take in the fact that something seems to have happened in the game while exactly no one was looking. “Oh shit! Shit, sorry, but is that the snitch? Collins captures the snitch!”
Harry laughs and claps as Collins triumphantly brandishes the snitch for everyone to see. He turns back to press another kiss to Charlie's mouth and to his cheek, where those small crow's feet point to the gentle smile in his eyes.