Author's Note: Gift fic for Gwen! I quite liked writing Adult Neville running around and maintaining all of Hogwarts' greenhouses, so stay tuned for more, potentially.

Disclaimer: The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

Warnings: Refers to past bullying (Snape and Neville)

Stacked with: MC4, Spring Bingo

Individual Challenge(s): Gryffindor MC; Slytherin MC; What Teaching? (Y); In a Flash (Y)

Word Count: 797

Spring Bingo entry information:

Space Address: 5E

Prompt: Planting/sowing

Given a Fair Chance

"Professor Longbottom, just the man I was hoping to see," Slughorn said, swinging into the teacher's lounge. Neville had just refilled his cup of coffee and was about to return to his copy of Herbology Weekly, though he was debating whether or not he should do this room, bundled under a pile of blankets to warm up. He'd been transplanting Shivering Sunflowers from their starter pots in the greenhouse to the plot outside and it had been cold, cold work. If these plants weren't so ridiculously useful for Madam Pomfrey and all the students with anxiety and depression, Neville wouldn't bother with their finnicky need to be rooted on a 'sunny but cold' day. His ears still felt frozen and bright red.

"Your next batch of knotgrass is coming," Neville said. "James Potter has detention with me tomorrow, and he'll be rinsing the leaves out."

"Thank you, thank you," Slughorn said, waving his hand. "I was going to ask you to cover my potions classes next Monday, while I'm away at the European Potion Master Association's annual general meeting."

Neville was stunned. He blinked twice.

"Professor Slughorn, I am awful at potions," Neville said.

"What do you mean, my boy?" Slughorn asked. "With a hand for herbology like yours and such an encyclopedia knowledge of magico-botany, I have trouble believing that!"

"Believe me professor, I wasn't in your NEWT-level class for a reason," Neville said. "I was a disaster in potions."

Slughorn frowned.

"You had classes with Professor Snape?"

Neville nodded, and Slughorn looked at him curiously for a moment.

"Why don't you come by my office tonight and I'll show you my lesson plans," Slughorn said. "I do think that myself and the most delightful red elderberry wine I've just acquired will be able to talk you into it."

"Of course," Neville said. He ran through the greenhouses' watering and fertilizing schedules in his head, but rationalized that if he ate a quick dinner, he'd be able to get it done on time.

There was probably still dirt in his hair as he walked into Slughorn's office. He frowned when he saw that the Potion Maser had set up his desk to look very, very much like a potion class station set-up, but with two cauldrons.

"Professor Longbottom, hello!" Slughorn said, putting down a paring knife. "Come in, come in."

"Are you expecting a student, professor? I can come back another time." Neville offered.

"No, I wasn't, but I was quite hoping to make you an offer," Slughorn said. "And you can call me Horace, Neville. We're colleagues. Equals."

"Okay," Neville said quietly. He looked at the spread again.

"I was hoping that you could give my students a reminder lesson on Fleamont Potter's Eleven Rules for Botanical Exchange," Slughorn said. "They've been making very silly mistakes in relation to those recently."

"I can do that, yes," Neville said.

"I know you can," Slughorn said. "And I'm sure you could be a very apt potion-maker as well, given a fair chance."

"A fair chance, sir?"

"When I inherited Severus' position, I inherited his files—graded assignments, laboratory accident logs, notes he kept about students to compile final assignments…" Slughorn said. "When I became the head of Slytherin House, I had a chance to meet with some of his students too. Severus Snape was a complicated man, but there is nothing complicated about his behavior in the classroom. It was cruel and you, Neville, were one of his favourite targets from what I can see."

Neville's mouth went dry.

"You know, he was my boggart for a very, very long time. I know that Professor Lupin warned Dumbledore about it while he was here, he told me when I was older," Neville said.

Slughorn shook his head.

"Unacceptable," Slughorn said. "I have trouble believing this wasn't known by the Headmaster, and I have little to no interest in trying to understand what made him tolerate such a thing. But I would be more than happy to try and make up for the time and the opportunities that were taken from you, at your convenience."

Neville was hesitant.

"I did do shockingly well on my OWLs, without Snape around," Neville said quietly. "And whenever Hermione tried to tutor me, it… it all made some sense."

Slughorn nodded encouragingly. Neville examined the potion tools laid before him. He could recall the name of some of them, identify some of the knives…

"What were you thinking of showing me first?" Neville asked.

"Sometimes useful to you, of course," Slughorn said. "What about a basic herbicide potion?"

Neville smiled. "I am running out. This would be lovely. Thank you, Professor Slughorn."

"Horace," the Potion Master corrected him.

"Horace," Neville nodded. He rolled up his sleeves. "Okay, what should I start with?"