Harry Potter Mister Congeniality

Governor. That's where he wanted to be one day. Because it was one of the best professions in Magical education that anyone could hold. Making decisions, rather than following the rules set by those who made the decisions, was his ideal. The interesting thing about building a profession in Magical education, though, is that policy makers want everyone involved in the education of Magical youth to be able to do a bunch of random _shit._

Honestly, it made perfect sense. After all, you do want the best witches and wizards possible teaching magic, but Dean was not yet seeing how any of the job paths Minerva McGonagall had been placing him on in six years following the war would lead him to a spot as a school governor.

As he sat at his post watching his charmed charcoals sketch out a description of a man that apparently had been luring women with his eyes then attempting to strangle them with a cursed tounge, he couldn't help but think about how even though he liked his job, currently, it didn't seem to be on the track that he wanted to be.

He couldn't complain, _really_. He got to draw and use magical art utensils all day, why should he not love that. But he'd realized long ago that the paycheck and the prestige lay somewhere much higher than a sketch artist at the Auror Department.

**How did Minerva even get me this job?**

All he could remember when he met in her -previously Snape's and Dumbledore's- office was her going on and on about how imperative it was that he build an astounding resume full of simple, but very important jobs that both exposed him to different types of magic, as well as made him seem important.

"You need to _matter, _Thomas," she'd emphasized, tapping her want harshly onto her desk.

So there he was, working in the Auror's Department, a place he'd never guessed he'd be - even though he had been good at Defense Against the Dark Arts in school. She found new, increasingly prestigious jobs for him, roughly every year or so. Dean had no idea if she still helped any of his classmates pursue their careers, though.

He originally figured it would probably help to start out as a professor, but what he didn't realize was that even Hogwarts teachers were highly qualified, very well-rounded, highly recognized, and magically advanced individuals. They _mattered._

And as his quill erased part of Tangle Tounge's pointed nose, he couldn't help but wonder how many more years it would last before his hard work headed in right direction. When would he fill in for a professor? When would he land a permanent job as a professor? How old would he be when he became Headmaster? When would he resign to be a Governor? So many questions to get lost in.

It was while in these daily, repetitive thoughts that he absentmindedly grabbed the quill, to the quill's apparent dismay and fixed the nose himself, as sometimes magicked utensils couldn't quite get things right. He'd put down the quill on the table and as it brushed itself off harshly, charmed the portrait with his wand. He'd just sent it off in the form of a parchment airplane to be checked by the latest witnessed who sat in one of the Auror's offices screeching, when he turned to find Harry's green eyes fixated on him.

He nearly fell out of his chair. Harry's eyes really were captivating. Almost spooky... His eyes nearing his hairline and his heart still beating fast he found that his lips were dry from not speaking for more than an hour.

"Harry!"

Harry just sort of stood there awkwardly. To anybody who didn't know him, it would be obvious that something was off, but Harry, being a humble, and slightly awkward man, wasn't always perceived as behaving oddly by anyone that wasn't a Weasley or Dumbledore.

"Erm, I believe I was supposed to bring this to you," he said, breaking eye contact and shifting from foot to foot. He held out an envelope that was already savagely ripped open. Sorry it's opened, I, erm, thought it was for me...no address."

Dean took the envelope from Harry, but didn't motion to open it. It wasn't like Harry to be that nervous. He just looked at him. And Harry looked as though he wasn't sure as to whether he should stay or leave. He stayed though.

Dean stopped staring at Harry's cowlick and took the paper from inside the envelope. It was still folded normally, not unexpected creases. Unfolding the small, thick, green piece of parchment paper, an odd tension grew in the room as Dean read:

_**To Mister Dean Anthony Thomas:**_

_**This is a formal letter informing you of your termination from your current position.**_

_**More information about your termination will be available to you within 24 hours.**_

_**Thank you and have an excellent day!**_

_**Lavender Brown**_

_**Department of Magical Employment**_

He looked at Harry, who looked kind of scared for once in his _damn_ life.

Dean, overcome with shock, stood up. His tall frame extended about a head beyond Harry's and he stared down at the repulsive piece of parchment in a sort of awe before glancing back up at Harry. **What the...**

In a single swift movement he stepped away from Harry, out of his corner desk, and brisked off towards Robard's office. Getting to the office was a blurr for Dean, a million questions flying through his mind. Why had he received that green parchment? Was it a prank? Had he done something wrong? What had he done wrong? What was going on? What was the date? Would he still receive his pay? Would this be recorded as a layoff or a fire?

He reached the large, black door with the label, _Gawain Robard - Head Auror _in record time, Harry trailing behind him and whispering loudly, "Dean!"

Dean deliberated whether or not he should knock, but with his heart beating so harshly that it deafened his ears, and the small bead of sweat that had started forming on his brow urged him to just walk in - so he did.

He flew into the office, startling the Head Auror. Robard drew his wand, the expected response from a Dark Wizard catcher, but relaxed once he saw who stood in his doorway, very unarmed. He looked from Dean's face to the green parchment that was absently crumpled in the large man's hands and released a large breath he'd been holding.

"I thought you'd be in here at some point today, Thomas. But before you make any assumptions about anything, I think it best that you speak with a a certain, Minerva McGonagall, as I have absolutely nothing to do with that," he droned in a serious tone. He tilted his head at Dean in a way that showed interest as to what the reasoning behind any of the recent happening was, but didn't say anything more.

Dean, unsure of what to say, let out a deep breath and slumped his shoulders in a defeated sort of way. **McGonagall...**

He looked past Robard, briefly lost in thought before realizing that he was still standing in the man's office. Murmuring, "Alright, thank you sir," and turning briskly to leave, he ran into Harry who was still standing awkwardly in the open doorway, looking concerned. He brushed past Harry, who followed him back to his desk. He didn't know why Harry was following him around like that, but he didn't appreciate it. What he needed was to be left alone so that he could figure out what the hell was going on.

As he turned the corner, he didn't get the chance to decide what to do next, as a large owl was perched on top of his sketch pad, holding a very neat, very yellow, roll of parchment. He sighed heavily before nearly snatching the scroll and opening it - the owl preening her feather out of irritation.

_**Mister Thomas,**_

**_Don't_****_ hex anyone._**

**_I have a new assignment for you that I think will help you in your endeavors more directly._**

**_Your termination is not the result of unsatisfactory performance, but rather for the benefit of your public perception._**

_**Please meet me at my office at 4 o' clock this evening and I will explain in greater detail.**_

_**Professor Minerva McGonagall**_

_**Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry**_


End file.

Harry Potter, Romance