Opposites

The first week of teaching at Hogwarts went by fairly fast for Neville. He had gotten his schedule the day of the welcoming feast. He was to have three classes every weekday except for Tuesday, which would have a free break for grading and such. Some of his classes were smaller than others; he noticed when he got his list of students. This was because after fourth year, Herbology was not required for students anymore.

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The first day brought fourth year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors, followed by a class of second (and then a class of first) year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. These classes went fairly smoothly, because of the fact that Neville had decided to use the first week of classes as sort of a "getting to know you" type of thing. He got the students to introduce themselves and then he had them ask him some questions. The first and second years kept it general with questions like: "What house were you in?" and "Who was your favorite Professor?" While the fourth years asked things like: "Why is this class required at all?" and "Are there any plants that can kill people?"

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The second day included fifth year and first year Ravenclaws and Gryffindors. The fifth years, Neville noticed, were scarce. He thought about this during his break. Was no one interested in Herbology anymore? His class had only included about 25 pupils, with both houses combined. While pondering this, he came to a realization. These were the students who had been sent to Hogwarts just months after Voldermort had been defeated on the school's very grounds. The parents of these students had to be extremely trustful of Hogwarts to allow these students to come there so soon after the war.

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Wednesday brought Slytherin and Hufflepuff sixth years and two seventh year classes. It was an odd experience for Neville, for these students had been at Hogwarts with him at a certain point in time. He knew it would be extremely difficult to view them as students and not peers. He honestly hoped no one would notice. He honestly didn't know how he would take it.

Unfortunately for Neville, someone did in fact notice.

Someone did notice, and she was very cute.

She was a blonde Hufflepuff girl who seemed shy to Neville. Throughout the class she'd seemed sort of aloof and not as participative as the other students. But, he did catch her eying him funnily a couple of times, which had led to him checking his face for smudges and his robe for stains. She hadn't said a word until she raised her hand.

"Professor Longbottom," she asked quietly, blushing slightly, which brought out the light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

"State your name and inquiry," he said with a chuckle, in a failed attempt to be suave.

"Paige Zane, sir," she said nervously. Neville perked up a bit when she said her name. Professor Sprout had left him a list of her most exceptional students and her names was at the top of the list. Neville also quickly worked out that there was only a five-year difference in age between the two of them. That wasn't against the rules, was it? He racked his brain for the answer, but only ended up wishing he'd paid more attention to the teacher's training. However, he hadn't thought he'd develop a crush on one of his students. And now that he thought about it, it disgusted him quite a bit. He had managed to stop thinking so hard when she asked her question. "Didn't you go to school with us?"

The smile fell from Neville's face as soon as the question had floated out of her mouth and into the air. "W-w-well," Neville began, inwardly cursing his stutter for appearing, but this was his worst fear confirmed, "y-y-yes. When all of you were in your second year here, I was in my last."

"You mean you're only five years older than us!" yelled a boisterous Slytherin with tan hair.

"Yes," muttered Neville, blushing.

"I don't want you teaching me!" inserted a rather outspoken girl from the Hufflepuff side.

Neville took it back, this was his worst fear. He just couldn't take it anymore. "Just get out," he said, a hint of depression lingered in his voice. "If you don't want me teaching you talk to the Headmistress. Class dismissed."

As the students filed out of the large greenhouse, Neville slunk down into his chair. This had to be the worst day of his life. He put his head in his hands; he was already starting to get a massive headache. 'I don't know why I thought I was cut out for this," he thought to himself.

"Professor," said a timid, feminine voice. "I'm sorry."

Neville looked up to see Paige. "I had no idea how horribly my question would go over. I never thought that they would react that way. I was quite...well, e-e-excited actually. It's just--It's just...you're one of my heroes."

"One of your what?" he asked. He knew his mouth was hanging wide open in shock. He couldn't help it though; his brain simply wasn't functioning correctly.

"My h-h-heroes," Paige repeated. She had a stutter too, Neville noticed. Alright, it was impossible not to notice, but he had realized how really alike he and Paige were. They were the same, but opposite to the world. Opposites of the way mankind should be. 'Everyone nowadays is expected to be loud and obnoxious and to speak up. But us, we're different," Neville thought to himself. And he was feeling even more attracted to her by the minute, which couldn't be a good thing.

"Professor Sprout said you were an excellent Herbology student," Neville blushed at this. "And then, in your seventh year, you defeated Nagini, helping to defeat Voldermort. How can anyone not admire you?"

"P-P-Paige, I'm certainly not one to look up to," Neville managed to force out of his mouth; he was fire engine red and was beginning to sweat. He was dreadfully embarrassed.

"Whatever you say, sir," she replied, a smile creeping up onto her face, highlighting the most adorable dimples Neville had ever seen. She turned around and left, much to Neville's relief. He groaned and put his head on his desk. It was going to be a long year.

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His first class on Thursday was some second year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. They felt like asking him simple questions like, "What's your favorite color?" To which Neville replied, "Green." And, "What type of pet did you bring to Hogwarts?" Neville answered this by stepping into his office for a moment, only to reappear with a noticeably aged toad.

"This is Trevor," he laughed, showing the toad to the class. "He has to be at least fifteen years old. I got him shortly before I came to Hogwarts, and he was no baby then."

"I bet he's almost ready to croak," said an awkward-looking Ravenclaw boy. His peer chuckled a bit. Neville forced a smile onto his face. To be perfectly honest, Trevor was one of the only stable staples in Neville's life at the moment. He was a reminder of past years, which seemed like a dream to Neville, the years without confusion or worry. Of course, Voldermort was gone now, but the confusion stayed. The wizarding world was almost at a "what now?" type of standpoint. The unfortunate thing was, no one quite knew.

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Neville tried something new in his next class, which was a mix of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw sixth years. He had everyone write down what they would want their future careers to be on a sheet of paper and put it into one of the student's black pointed hats. Neville then walked back to the front of the room. "Okay," he explained. "I will pull out a slip and read what's on it. If it is yours you are to stand up and say why you would like this job. Does everyone get it?" The class nodded in approval.

He pulled out the first slip and read off, "Quidditch player?" About five people stood up. The most noticeable of all these was a brown haired boy who all the Ravenclaws swooned over. He said his name was Philip Robinson and that he was the keeper on the Ravenclaw team. The others stated their names too. One of them was a Gryffindor beater.

He went on to the next slip, "Minister of Magic?"

A stocky Gryffindor boy stood up. He could only have been about five feet tall, which means he would barely come up to Neville's chest. "I am Luke Grey," he said in a surprisingly deep voice. "I plan to enforce magical law with a firm, but gentle, hand. I will give equal rights to centaurs and merfolk. I will provide more funding to magical academies. House-elves will never be beaten, due to a new department I will install within the ministry. I, Luke Grey, will provide--"

Neville cut him off, "All right that's enough." Reaching into the hat, Neville pulled out the next career, only to collapse in a fit of uncontrollable laughter when he read it. Once he had halfway regained his dignity he read it out, "Wife of Harry Potter?"

A lanky blonde girl stood up. "Yes," she said in a serious tone. "What is wrong with that?"

"Well, you can't plan to marry someone," Neville countered.

"I, Jessie Flynn, happen to be the President of the T.H.P.F.C.," she replied, holding her head high. She seemed to be proud of herself. Her friend, who was beside her, however, did not. The girl had smacked her head down on her desk in exasperation; her dark brown hair splayed everywhere. She was clearly used to this kind of thing, but nevertheless annoyed by it.

"The what?" Neville asked, stifling another chuckle.

"The Teen Harry Potter Fan Club," she said, her head still high with pride.

"Oh...of course."

"You think I'm crazy. That's okay, I'm used to it," she said decisively, and sat down.

It was going to be an odd year.

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Luckily, his Friday class was some fourth year, then fifth year, then third year Slytherins and Hufflepuffs. These classes tended to be very calm, with the exception of some rambunctious Slytherins. Neville figured he could handle them though.