A moment between professors after the Battle of Hogwarts. For Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Week #12.

Pomona Sprout picked her way through the rubble of Hogwarts. The battle had ended. Voldemort was dead. So were some of his biggest supporters. The rest of the Death Eaters who had run away were going to Azkaban. Students and those who were brought in by Professor Slughorn had left to go home or were taken to St. Mungo's or had gone to bury their dead.

Someone would have to tell parents about their children who fought valiantly but did not make it. Minerva was the one who volunteered for the task. Pomona offered to go with her, but Minerva claimed she would keep her composure better if she knew she couldn't fall on someone's shoulder.

So, Pomona, Horace, and Filius stayed behind at Hogwarts to sort through the damage and make sure nothing dangerous was left behind. They were the ones who had no family to go home to.

When she saw the state of the greenhouses, Pomona finally lost it. They were completely destroyed by the acromantulas and plants were strewn about the grounds completely shredded. The frames of the greenhouses were bent so far out of shape not even magic could put them back to rights. Pomona collapsed to her knees and let her tears flow freely. The shock had finally set in. She had been strong for her house the past three years and now there was no one left here to be strong for.

A hand rested on her back and she looked to see Filius standing by her. They had dated once about seven years ago but decided they were better off as friends.

"Horace found his office still in tact," he said softly. "Including his bottles of firewhiskey."

Pomona slowly rose to her feet and sighed. "Perhaps a tot of nettle wine might be good."

With the elves gone, they still managed to scrounge up some food and retire to Horace's office. They sat in squat chairs and drank like they were young once again.

"I always wanted to be a Professor you know," said Horace, his cheeks flushed from the wine. "I enjoyed teaching others really. I also found that helping my fellow classmates with homework would invite me into their circles."

"You know cookies would do just as well," said Pomona. "That's— that's what I did when I was in primary school!"

"My dear!" said Horace. "I had no idea you went to muggle school."

"Oh, yes," she said and hiccuped. "Mother insisted. I never had the knack for it. Everyone assumed I was that odd duck who befriended plants. They weren't wrong but even — hic — even so."

"My father was a goblin," said Filius though he knew that Pomona knew this. "I was treated like any other goblin child until my letter for Hogwarts came. I chose to pursue magic."

"I never thought I would be a teacher," Pomona continued, stuck on her mind track. "I suppose most people don't."

"I had hoped to be a professional duelist," Filius mused. "But then they banned half-beings from competing. What did you want to be Pomona?"

"Oh… I never thought about my future," she said staring down into her nearly empty goblet. "I suppose I preferred to live in the present. Even when I thought in the war I never thought past tomorrow. Now… now, I fear for the future of the children. Particularly our graduates. They are entering a broken world that they will fix. The old ways may become obsolete…"

"We can rebuild just as they will," said Horace. "We can adapt just as they will."

"Here, here!" said Filius.

Pomona trailed off as the two wizards broke into a drinking song. The more she thought about the future the more she realized no thoughts appeared. She had no clue what to think about the future. She supposed she could count those alive lucky that they were alive. But how would this affect the young ones? Would the next generation live in worry of another war so shortly after the last? Would another Dark Lord rise in Voldemort's place? There may not always be a Harry Potter to stop them.

Hopefully the change to come would be change for the better.

Things just had to get better.