ineedmyfics | Paid In Full

For

h311ybean

Title: Paid In Full
Fandom: Harry Potter (books)
Rating: G
Author's Notes: Inspired by the prompt "How can I pay you back?" and set at various points in canon (mostly late DH). I hope Neville does not disappoint! Thank you to

in_the_blue for beta-reading!

Part One — September 1991

Neville Longbottom trudged dejectedly across the lawn. Thanks to Madam Pomfrey, his wrist was now just a little sore instead of broken, but the real injury had been to his pride and he didn't think that the Hogwarts Healer could have done anything about that.

They probably thought he was too far away to hear, but he had heard the other students laughing as he and Madam Hooch walked to the hospital wing. (Neville hoped that it was just the Slytherins who were laughing at him, but he wouldn't blame the Gryffindors if they joined in.) "Pay them no mind, dear," the flying instructor had murmured to him. "It could have happened to anyone."

But it happened to me, Neville thought. He supposed that he should be used to embarrassing incidents like that, but instead he always wished they would stop. The only way it could have been worse was if his Gran were around to sigh and shake her head in that resigned way that always made him feel as though he would never amount to anything.

"Neville Longbottom!" a voice cut into his gloomy thoughts. "Where do you think you're going?"

He looked up, startled, and realized that he was not far from the Forbidden Forest. He had also almost run right into Professor Sprout, the plump, gray-haired witch who taught Herbology. "You do remember that the forest is off-limits to all students, don't you?" she asked, not unkindly, and hitched a basket full of wriggling black creatures higher on her hip.

"Yes, Professor," Neville replied, feeling his face grow warm. "I-I'm sorry—I wasn't looking where I was going."

To his relief, the professor smiled. "Well, you didn't actually enter the forest, so there's no harm done," she said with a practical shrug. A chittering sound came from the basket. "Just remember to be more careful next time."

"Yes, Professor."

"Shouldn't you be in class?"

Fortunately, the piece of parchment bearing his schedule was still in his trouser pocket, and it showed that he wasn't skiving off any classes by mistake. "Uh, no, Professor. I'm on break right now."

Professor Sprout's smile widened. "In that case," she said, "I could use your help putting these Scottish Snarflings on the Flitterblooms in Greenhouse One!"

Neville was so glad that he wasn't in trouble that he soon found himself nodding, taking the basket, and following her to the greenhouse where the first-years took their Herbology lessons.

Several other students were already inside, doing things like stacking empty pots and sweeping up dead leaves. It wasn't surprising that many of them were Hufflepuffs, because Professor Sprout was Head of that house, but there were also some from the other houses, including a burly Slytherin boy who carried an enormous potted plant as though it were a pile of feathers.

Sensing his hesitation, the professor gave Neville an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "We learned in Herbology that the Flitterblooms aren't dangerous, remember? And the Snarflings eat only pests. There is nothing in here that will hurt you."

She smiled when he took a second uneasy glance at the huge Slytherin. "That includes the people," she added, leaning closer and lowering her voice so that only he could hear. "Plants, like animals, are excellent judges of character, and from what I've seen in class, they seem to like you, the way they like Mr. Talbot over there."

Just then, he heard a voice call his name. "Hullo, Neville!" Hannah Abbott, a blonde Hufflepuff girl from his Herbology class, greeted him with a friendly smile. "Come to join us, have you?"

"Er... yes," he replied, managing a smile of his own.

"Well, come over here, then! Those Snarflings must be hungry!"

Professor Sprout chuckled. "Run along, dear," she advised. "Hannah will show you what to do."

Neville nodded, feeling a bit better knowing that he wouldn't be working alone. "Yes, Professor," he said and, squaring his shoulders, carried his basket over to the Flitterbloom beds.

Part Two — June 2002

Greenhouse One was a riot of color. Every plant that was in full flower had been moved there, including several Flutterby bushes that had decided to bloom for the first time in a hundred years. It was a fitting tribute to Professor Sprout, who was retiring at the end of the term.

Of course, the plants weren't the only ones present to bid her farewell. The Hogwarts staff, shopkeepers from Hogsmeade Village, Professor Sprout's family and friends, some of the castle ghosts, and many of her former students all turned out that day to honor her.

Neville surveyed the scene, half-hidden behind an enormous potted palm and feeling very conscious of the fact that he was there not only as one of Professor Sprout's former students, but also as her replacement.

Thinking about how he landed the position still made his head spin. The news of the professor's impending retirement had sounded like gossip at first, but when he discovered that she really was retiring, he sent in an application on a lark. Neville still told people that he never thought he had a real chance, and everyone just told him that it was funny how neatly things fell into place sometimes.

"There you are!" Hannah said, walking over and taking his arm. "Come. The speeches will be starting soon. You should be out there with Professor Sprout to hear them." She gave the order with authority, being one of the former Hufflepuffs responsible for organizing the party.

"Maybe later," he replied, resisting when she tried to draw him out of his hiding place.

Rather than insist that he go forth and be sociable, she giggled and squeezed in beside him. "All right, but if everyone notices that we're both gone and starts thinking that we're practicing for our wedding night, it'll be your fault."

Neville blushed, but managed to retort, "Maybe they'll blame it on you."

"I don't mind," she laughed, then her expression softened and she leaned her head on his shoulder. "Are you all right? Still nervous about what you're going to say later?"

"A little, but I'm more nervous about actually taking over from Professor Sprout."

"Don't worry about the speech," Hannah advised. "Just keep it short and speak from your heart, and you'll be all right. You'll be a wonderful Herbology professor, too," she added loyally. "You're a good man, you know your way around plants, and you love Hogwarts. You're a natural for the job, and everyone knows it.

"If you don't believe me, just ask your Gran." She gestured towards Mrs. Longbottom, who was holding court by a refreshment table at the other end of the greenhouse. Despite the distance, they could hear the old lady quite clearly as she extolled her grandson's virtues. The stuffed vulture mounted on her hat trembled emphatically whenever she made an important point.

Neville had to smile at that. "If both my fiancée and my Gran say it, then it must be true."

"And so it is. Now, will you come out of here?"

It required a little more persuasion, but he was eventually convinced to rejoin the party. He even started enjoying himself, thanks largely to his friends, most of whom wisely avoided talking about his new job. (Ron Weasley, however, couldn't resist ribbing him about his leaving the Ministry of Magic for "literally greener pastures.")

"There you are, my boy!" Professor Sprout said when she spotted him, and beckoned him over to her side. "Have you been hiding out all this time?

"You know, you don't have to say anything if you really don't want to," she confided, giving his hand a squeeze. The roughness of her callused, work-worn palms felt familiar and comforting. "I also thought we would just have a nice party without any ceremony, but the others worked so hard to put this together that I don't have the heart to disappoint them."

"It's all right, Professor." Neville smiled down at her as an idea took root. "I think I know just what to say."

He grew more and more certain as he watched guest after guest come up and say a few words in Professor Sprout's honor. Some of the speeches were funny (Hagrid), some were earnest (Hermione), and others ran a tad too long (Ernie MacMillan), but the most emotional one came from Professor McGonagall, who presented her longtime friend with an ornate crystal vase ("a humble gift compared to the value of your years of service to the school") and offered a toast that had many guests reaching for their handkerchiefs.

"Before we ask our guest of honor to say a few words," the Hogwarts Headmistress concluded with a sniffle, "I think it would be most fitting if we hear from the young man who will be assuming the post of Professor of Herbology in September—Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Neville's friends whooped encouragingly, ignoring Professor McGonagall's trademark glare, as the incoming Herbology professor came forward with a self-conscious smile. He slipped his hand into his pocket to touch the gold Dumbledore's Army coin that he still carried for luck. Saying good things about Professor Sprout before friends should be nothing compared to shouting his defiance in the face of Voldemort himself.

"Er, well, we've already heard from many others whose lives were changed for the better thanks to Professor Sprout," he began. "I'm another one of them, except that unlike the others, I'm the one taking over for her after she retires at the end of term.

"It's both an honor and-and a challenge," Neville continued, scanning the sea of faces before him. Hannah gave him an encouraging nod from the sidelines. "When I was a student, I could see how much Professor Sprout loved the plants in the greenhouses and the Hogwarts grounds, and she tried her best to teach us to do the same. I'm honored that Hogwarts trusts me to carry on for her, and I will do everything I can to prove that they made the right choice."

"Of course they did!" Mrs. Longbottom exclaimed indignantly, prompting laughs all around.

He gave his grandmother a fond smile and pressed on. "But this job is a challenge, too. Professor Sprout showed me that there's more to being a professor than just knowing what lessons to teach, the way there's more to taking care of a plant than remembering to water it every now and then. Many of us are here because she didn't just teach us about pruning Abyssinian Shrivelfigs and the different uses of sneezewort. I'm here because she taught me that even though I wasn't the fastest, the strongest, or the smartest, I could do some good in the world. She taught me how to trust myself… how to be brave."

At that, his friends whooped again, especially those who had been in Dumbledore's Army with him. Neville blushed and motioned for them to settle down. "I can't begin to thank Professor Sprout for everything she has done for me," he said, finally turning to look at the professor herself. Her proud, teary smile made his heart swell. "But I hope that I can repay her, even just a little bit, by continuing her work and helping grow not just magical plants, but the people who'll help rebuild the wizarding world."

Part Three — September 2017

"That will be all for today. Please tidy up your work tables, and I'll see you on Thursday."

Neville smiled pleasantly and watched as part of the term's new crop of first-years jumped to do his bidding. A good number of them—mostly Ravenclaws—fastidiously went after every speck of debris in their vicinity as though they were being rated for their efforts, while others approached him asking about that day's lesson, what they were going to do next time, and—again from the Ravenclaws—how long he liked essays to be.

He fielded the questions with practiced ease, reveling in the smiles that lit the children's faces as their confusion was cleared and curiosity satisfied. Remembering how it felt to not know or understand always made him eager to help, and he supposed that this was partly why he was so popular among the Hogwarts pupils. (Another possible reason, especially among the younger students, was Trevor the Third, the toad who accompanied him to most of his classes and served as a mascot of sorts.)

The students started filtering out of the greenhouse, but among those who stayed behind was a pale little Slytherin boy with unmistakable white-blond hair.

As he watched Scorpius Malfoy tickle Trevor the Third with a dry leaf, Neville wondered at how the boy could look so much like his father, and yet be so different. Though he was the very image of Draco at that age, Scorpius lacked the self-assurance that Neville remembered fearing, hating, and envying during his and Draco's days at Hogwarts.

He knew that it had much to do with the Malfoy family's reputation following the Second Wizarding War. The students were the children of those who had survived, so the stories of that dark era were still fresh in their minds, and they probably whispered about the Malfoys the way Neville and his classmates had once whispered about Severus Snape. Both Snape and the Malfoys had turned against Voldemort, but while Snape died a hero in the struggle against his former master, the Malfoys ran to save their hides. Neville wondered whether it was the Malfoys' former alliance with Voldemort that had caused the slump in Scorpius' thin shoulders, or their perceived cowardice. Perhaps it was both.

"Scorpius Malfoy?"

The boy looked up, startled, and began to turn pink when he realized that he was the only student left in the greenhouse. "I-I'm sorry, Professor Longbottom! I was, er—"

"You were busy," Neville finished for him with a kindly smile. "I understand. But you should probably run along if you don't want to be late for your next class."

Scorpius dug in his trouser pocket for a crumpled piece of parchment, and heaved a small sigh of relief. "I'm on break right now, Professor. But," he added in a diffident voice that one would never have heard from his father, "you probably have more students coming, so I should go."

"I do have some students coming, but not for a lesson. We're going to start some Puffapod seedlings." He nodded towards a worktable laden with equipment in the very back. "Would you like to help us?"

The boy also glanced at the table and laughed when one of the fat, bright pink Puffapod beans spontaneously burst into bloom. His smile quickly faded, however, and replaced with his customary look of concern. "Who's ‘us?'" he asked. "The others might not want me here with them."

"Oh, I think they will," Neville assured him. "I might not have asked enough people to come and help, so an extra pair of hands will always be welcome."

Just then, a group of students led by one Roxanne Weasley bustled into the greenhouse. "We're here, Unc—I mean, Professor Longbottom!" she announced. "We've got some fresh hands for—hello, who's this?"

The cheerful chatter of voices began to die away as the newcomers saw exactly who it was, and Neville hastened to intervene. "This is Scorpius Malfoy," he said in the quiet yet firm voice that he used when he was being deadly serious. "I invited him to help us today. Why don't you say hello, Scorpius?"

"H-hello," the boy stammered with a limp little wave. The response from the others was just about as enthusiastic, although a Slytherin girl gave him an encouraging smile.

"This is perfect!" James Potter said into the awkward silence. "Rox was just about to say that we've got some fresh hands for dragon dung duty, and now we have even more!"

"No one said anything about dragon dung!" howled his younger brother, Al.

At that, the others laughed and even Neville had to smile. "We will not be working with dragon dung today," he announced. "Scorpius here will be watching over Trevor the Third and keeping him away from the Puffapod beans. Al, perhaps you would like to help him?"

The two boys, no doubt aware of the other's lineage, eyed each other warily. "All right," Al said finally, walking towards the worktable on which the toad sat. "I'll guard this end of the table."

Scorpius nodded and moved to the opposite side. "And I'll watch this one."

"Thank you, boys," Neville said, and turned to the rest of the students. "Now, shall the rest of us get to work?"

THE END

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Paid In Full

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