Neville knocked on the office door. It felt strange, almost surreal, being back at Hogwarts. Especially after the events of his seventh year – the things that happened which he knew he would never be able to forget. He barely had time to dwell on the past, however, as a moment later, the door was opened, and a familiar, round and cheery face met his.
"Neville, my boy, so nice to see you again! Do come in."
Professor Sprout looked much the same as always, her patched and dirty hat sat upon her short, grey locks. Her face was worn, wrinkled in many places from the happenings of life. Neville knew that she, too, remembered vividly many things she wished she could forget. "Tea?" she asked.
"Please," Neville smiled, taking a seat on the couch in the office. Her desk was pushed off to one corner of the room, leaving the center of the room to be occupied by various cushy furniture. She preferred to keep her meetings more informal when possible. This was something Neville was accustomed to by now: he had spent many nights in this office during his final year at school, talking with his favorite professor, taking a look at some of the rarer plants that she kept in her rooms.
"So," Sprout said, placing the tea tray on the low, wooden table and settling into her armchair next to the fire. "You got my owl. Have you thought any more about my offer?"
Neville nodded, a feeling of pride welling up deep within him. "I'd be honored to be your apprentice."
"Just for the next few years, though. Just until you're ready to take over on your own."
"Professor—"
At this, she chuckled. "My dear boy, please, it's Pomona."
"Alright." Neville squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. After all these years, the lack of formalities just seemed odd. "Pomona. Are you sure you want to leave Hogwarts? You're the best professor I had, you –"
"You're too kind, Neville." She looked down at her hands, clasped together in her lap. She tried to get a spot of dirt out from under one of her nails, but at this point it was something of a lost cause. "The fact of the matter is, I'm getting old. It's been a good, long run. But you and I both know that I can't teach here forever. The responsible thing to do would be to train my best student, to teach him all I know, and to let him take the reins."
Neville stared, the sense of pride coming back. "Your best student, huh?"
"By miles, my boy. And aren't I lucky that my best happens to have goals of pursuing a career in the subject.
"I'd love for you to let me train you. You could work in the greenhouses with me, do your own plant research, perhaps carry on with some of the projects you worked on in your last year here. In time, I'd have you help me teach classes. You would work your way up to teaching them on your own. And, of course," she added as though it were an afterthought, "you would be paid. I'm sure I could persuade Minerva to provide you with living quarters here at Hogwarts, if you'd like."
Neville thought over her offer. Of course, he'd been thinking about nothing else since her original proposal that he'd received by owl the week before. This seemed to be everything he wanted, and he couldn't give himself one reason to deny her offer. "Okay, I'll do it. Thank you, so much. I look forward to working with you, er – Pomona."
She enveloped him into a hug. He was going to be a professor.
A/N: Just a little idea I've been playing around with. I might add more to this someday (either during Neville's seventh year or after this scene takes place, maybe both). Written for the Marathon Competition (Starting Point: "training").