Unofficial Portkey Archive

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. It belongs to JK Rowling, etc.

A/N: I know, Neville as Herbology Professor, not exactly new, but it really does fit for him. As always, enjoy and let me know what you think.

It was the start of a new year at Hogwarts. The castle had filled with students the day before, but today would be the first day of classes. Neville waited in the number one greenhouse for the arrival of his first class, a group of Gryffindor first years - his own house.

Things had changed so much these last six years since he'd left school. Professor Dumbledore was gone, gone to a location unknown, and Professor McGonagall had stepped up to take his position. That left an opening for Head of Gryffindor, which he had filled.

It might not seem such a drastic change, a few staff alterations, but the effect they had on the castle was great. Professor McGonagall ran things differently than Headmaster Dumbledore.

Not worse - just different.

For so long Dumbledore had been the heart of Hogwarts, injecting cheer into the place whether you liked it or not.

Now he was gone. Neville still wondered where, but had long since realised he would probably never find out.

The first years began to arrive, trickling in, some looking eager, others a little afraid. He remembered the feeling fondly. Smiling welcomingly, he waited for everyone to arrive, and then stood up to introduce himself. The first time he had ever had to do this, he thought he might fall apart (public speaking had never been something he was comfortable with), but that was a long time ago. He was perfectly confident in his role now.

'Good morning everyone,' he said, 'please, find a stool and sit down.' He waited a few moments and then continued. 'I'm Professor Longbottom - '

'The Longbottom?' One of the boys interrupted him loudly.

Neville nodded. 'Yes, the Longbottom.' He still wasn't sure he liked the way the world regarded him these days. It seemed anyone viewed as part of Harry Potter's inner core was seen as a Hero. He could understand how the world could be grateful towards Harry; he had rid them of Voldemort, but Neville had done nothing besides get thrown around like a rag doll for a while. True, he had distracted Voldemort long enough for Harry to finish him off, but it wasn't exactly something to be proud of. If Harry hadn't saved him at the last moment, he would be dead right now.

'Did you really help to defeat You-Know-Who?' the boy asked eagerly. Everyone was silent, waiting for his response.

'I was there,' Neville admitted, 'but I wouldn't say I helped. Harry is the real hero.'

'What was it like?'

'Scary,' Neville said. He was about to change the subject, but a barrage of tiny voices prevented him.

'What's he like?' One girl asked breathlessly. She meant Harry. While retreating from the wizarding world might have let him escape the spotlight, it had only enhanced Harry's reputation. People spoke about him like he was a God. If only they knew the real Harry Potter, he thought, smiling to himself.

'My mum said he's gorgeous!'

'I heard he's over ten feet tall!'

'Don't be stupid; he's not a giant.'

'He might as well be.'

'He could take a giant, that's for sure.'

'They say if you get too close, you'll fry up in his magical powers.'

'No, if he looks at you, you fry up.'

'Then why didn't he just look at You-Know-Who?'

'Because You-Know-Who was powerful as well.'

'I heard they nearly destroyed Azkaban when they fought!'

'Did they really?' Everyone looked at Neville again, as if expecting him to answer.

He sighed. I'm not going to get anything done today, am I?

Draco found Harry in the backyard, sat on his haunches and playfully wrestling with the energetic collie Charlie. He stopped to lean against the wall and watch. Harry knew he was there, so after a few more tussles he stood up and turned to face his friend.

'Sick of Hermione already?' Harry joked.

'She really isn't going to let it go, is she.' It wasn't really a question.

'I did warn you,' Harry said, shrugging.

Draco let out a huff. 'A guy takes down a few Death Eaters and everyone thinks he's self-destructing. What the hell is the world coming to?'

'I don't care what you do to those Death Eaters,' Harry said, laughing, 'but I don't think that's what's bothering Hermione either.'

'What then?'

'You'll have to ask her,' Harry replied. Draco frowned, obviously not liking that idea. Harry patted him on the shoulder as he passed. 'I'd rather not get stuck in the middle, so leave me out of it, will you?'

'Some friend you are,' Draco complained jokingly.

Harry called back to him as he entered the building, Charlie bounding along after him. 'Hey, don't forget, we Slytherins are selfish creatures.'

Draco stood outside for a moment, pondering, and then decided he'd rather not face Hermione yet. He left through the back gate and started walking.

Neville sat, exhausted, as the first years filed out of the greenhouse one by one. He closed his eyes, shaking his head in exasperation. He'd barely covered half of what he intended in his lesson plan. Being seen as a celebrity, even a minor one, was proving to be, well, annoying. No wonder Harry had run away from it all.

'Erm, excuse me?' A soft tiny voice spoke out.

Neville opened his eyes and looked at the small girl standing before him, a book held to her chest. He was reminded strongly of Hermione, the way she'd been during their first years at Hogwarts. Back then they'd only had each other for companionship. He felt old, even though he was only twenty-four.

'Professor Longbottom?'

'Yeah, sorry,' he said, coming back to himself. He recognised the girl, because she'd been the only one who hadn't spoken a single word during the entire class. 'Can I help you?'

'I…' she glanced down shyly. 'I just wanted to say… I think you are a Hero, sir. You might not see it, but you are.' She spoke so softly, it was hard to make out the words, but Neville heard them all the same.

'What's your name?'

She looked at him, blushing. 'Leah Brighton, sir.'

Neville smiled, trying to put her at ease. 'Thank you for the kind words Leah. I have a lot of work to do. Is there anything else I can do for you?'

She shook her head, blonde pigtails bobbing, but she didn't leave.

'Are you sure?'

She clutched her book closer. 'My sister was there,' she said in her small voice, 'when you fought You-Know-Who. She told me that the only reason Mr. Potter was able to beat him… was because of you. She said you're the real Hero. She…' Leah's small voice finally failed her and she looked away again.

Neville was confused. 'Why are you telling me these things Leah?'

'I…' She suddenly thrust the book at him.

He took it and read the cover. Realisation dawned.

'You read it?'

'All of it.'

After the fall of Voldemort, reporters had all tried in vain to secure the truth behind Harry and those instrumental in bringing down the Dark Lord. Most had failed miserably. However, one dogged individual had somehow managed to piece together most of the pieces. The result was this rare book of facts, entitled Potter and Friends, that detailed the lives of Harry Potter, his best friend Draco Malfoy, the Slayer of Nagini Ron Weasley, and of course, the almost Chosen One Neville Longbottom.

The sections of the book regarding him acted as sort of an unofficial autobiography. It told of his early years, the prophecy, how everyone had thought he was a Squib, his ineptitude and lack of confidence, and his sudden increase in power and eventual role in the final fight between Harry and Voldemort.

'I think you're amazing, sir,' Leah said, and for the first time he understood why she was blushing so furiously, and why she was so shy around him. She had a crush on him. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable. Neville tried to give her the book back. 'Please, sir, will you sign it?'

'Uh.'

'Please?' She looked at him with large blue eyes.

He couldn't say no. 'Okay, but on one condition.'

'Anything.'

'You have to agree not to show it to anyone… ever.'

'Deal.'

Neville flipped open to the front page, grabbed his quill, inked up, and signed. He'd never signed anything, but he couldn't say no to this girl who reminded him so much of Hermione, and, he had to admit, himself. Maybe that was why she seemed so infatuated with him. She saw in him that she wouldn't always be shackled by her insecurity. If he could conquer it, so could she.

'Thank you,' she said, soft words heartfelt.

'You're welcome.'

Maybe celebrity wasn't all bad.

As Draco walked through Ambleside, out among the Muggles, he had to admit the place was beautiful and charming. It had streets with old-fashioned cobbles, homes covered in climbing vines, and colourful gardens all over the place.

Still, Draco couldn't imagine living here. The wizarding world was where he belonged, hunting down Death Eaters. He couldn't wait to get back to it - to get back to work. However, he had promised Hermione, and he couldn't avoid her forever.

He could avoid her for a little longer though.

He found a quiet park and sat on a wooden bench, leaning his head back and closing his eyes, feeling the breeze on his face. In the distance, he heard kids playing and birds chirping in trees - closer, the faint snapping of twigs and crunching of leaves as someone walked along the crude dirt path.

He listened, expecting to hear them walk straight past him, but they stopped by the bench, and he opened his eyes a slit.

'Hey there Draco, fancy seeing you here.'

Draco groaned inwardly. It was that irritating girl he'd met earlier in Harry's shop. He couldn't remember her name, and he didn't care to either.

'Still charming, I see,' the girl said, and then sat next to him. He opened his eyes and looked at her with a dark look, hoping she'd get the message and leave. She just smiled at him. 'Enjoying the mild weather?'

He tried to ignore her, but his eyes were invariably drawn back. She raised a fine black eyebrow at him behind her slim black spectacles, a quirky smile on her face. He studied her. She was tiny in stature. Her dark red hair (obviously dyed) fell to cup her heart-shaped face. She dressed like no girl he'd ever seen before. A black leather jacket drowned her small frame, baggy combat pants eclipsed her legs, and huge black boots finished the bizarre outfit.

She dresses like a boy, he realised, frowning. Was this some strange Muggle thing?

Despite this, he did find her visually appealing, and he felt guilty because of it. He averted his eyes, trying to ignore her.

'You do remember me.' She made it sound more like a demand than a question. 'Grace. From Hermione's shop.'

Draco figured, if he ignored her long enough, she'd leave him alone. He was wrong.

'Well, you're certainly chatty,' she said sarcastically, 'you must have the girls going crazy for you. What? You think you're too good to have a conversation with me? Why don't you take that stick out of your butt, huh? Hermione said you were going through something, but damn, you're priceless.'

That perked his interest. He looked at her sharply. 'What did you say?'

'Praise the Lord, he can speak!' Grace smirked at him.

'What did Hermione say?' Draco clarified, unconsciously clenching his fists.

Grace shrugged. 'Nothing. So now we've ascertained you do have a tongue and you can form words, why don't you tell me something about yourself? You enjoying Ambleside?'

Draco ignored her and stood up. He didn't believe it had been nothing. Hermione had been blabbing gossip about him. He indented to find out what. This Grace bint wasn't going to tell him - he'd gathered that much about her, so he'd have to go to the source.

'Hey, where are you going?' Draco heard Grace call after him as he strode back towards Harry's shop, but he once again ignored her.