This was not Neville's first time inside, of course, but it did tend to startle him each time. Where the other Heads of House often had decorated with their House colors to some degree, Thatcher's office remained the same austere dark wood and bronze trim, varicolored leather-bound books lining the shelves, and tapestries depicting constellations and planetary movements that it had been when he had just been Astronomy professor. The bronze armillary sphere in the corner was quite handsome, and Neville had to admit he'd coveted it for years, despite never having had any more than a passing interest in Astronomy.

Professor Thatcher himself also seemed ill-fitted as Head of Slytherin House. Tall and gangly, his mousey hair tended toward unruliness and his square spectacles were nearly always smudged, probably due to the bushy eyebrows above them. His closely trimmed beard was beginning to show some gray. He looked much more like a kindly shopkeeper than the strict, no-nonsense professor and Head of House that he was - except for his incredibly intimidating demeanor.

Even in his dressing gown (again, not conceding to Slytherin colors but instead a deep gold), he loomed and exuded the aura of being in command. He did not sit behind his desk, instead standing behind his chair, arms resting across the top, as Scorpius sat and squirmed slightly in the chair in front of the desk. Three wands lay upon the desk, silently reflecting the lamplight.

"I did not set them detentions, though I should have," Neville said in an even tone as he slowly paced in the space behind Scorpius's chair. "I will leave that to you. However, I will not tolerate any more after-hour dalliances in my greenhouses, particularly if there's a better-than-good chance they'll end with the corpse of a first year."

Thatcher bowed his head. "Rest assured that their indiscretion will be dealt with in an appropriate manner." He looked sharply down at Scorpius. "I assume you had reason to bring Mr. Malfoy here."

Neville drew in a silent breath. This was where he would have to tread carefully. "Without my intervention, Mr. Malfoy would likely have suffered from severe frostbite, if not frozen to death, due to the actions of your upperclassmen." He looked squarely at Thatcher, who held his gaze without changing his expression. "I realize that establishing a pecking order is a rite of passage in your House, but from what I have observed, Mr. Malfoy's position in that pecking order is well established. I trust that any further attempts to remind him of his current standing will be...dissuaded."

Thatcher's eyes bored into his own; Neville tried not to blink. He could not decipher what the other professor was thinking, but he knew that his request was a severe breach of territory. Professors had always turned a blind eye to the casual hazing that occurred in Slytherin house. Even Dumbledore, a score of years ago, had pointedly ignored the various petty tortures the students inflicted upon each other, provided it did not come to permanent harm.

Thatcher finally took a breath. "I cannot guarantee that," he said levelly. "Much of it depends on Mr. Malfoy here."

A polite way of indicating that unless Scorpius's place in the hierarchy improved, his situation would not either. Neither of them would find any open assistance here.

Neville switched to plan B.

"Very well then," he said stiffly. "In that case, can we discuss Mr. Malfoy's punishment?"

Scorpius twisted in his chair to look incredulously at Neville, who did not meet the boy's eyes. Thatcher, however, arched an eyebrow in an expression that almost seemed to say, well played. "Certainly. I understand he did considerable damage to a rare plant of yours."

"It was mostly accidental, but yes. He was also in a restricted greenhouse after grounds curfew. I should say that a detention every Friday until the end of the month will do nicely."

"What?" Scorpius choked. He stared wildly at Neville with an intense expression of betrayal. Neville set his jaw.

"That seems fair," Thatcher said steadily, reaching for a folio on his desk to jot down the punishment.

"But I -" Scorpius seemed torn between complaining to Neville and staying quiet under the cold gaze of Thatcher. Neville regretted the necessity.

"I will see you at five-thirty Friday evening, Mr. Malfoy. You'll want gloves."

Scorpius's jaw was slack at the injustice of it all. Neville nodded a quick farewell to Thatcher, who nodded in return before turning to Scorpius.

"I suggest you return to your dormitory," he was saying as Neville slipped out the door. "You'll need a decent amount of rest the next two nights. Professor Longbottom's detentions tend to be exhausting."

Neville was not entirely surprised when there was a commanding knock at his office door during lunch hour the next day, nor was he surprised when the door opened without waiting for a response. He also was not surprised at the sudden plummet his stomach took when, out of the corner of his eye, he confirmed who had invaded his office.

He'd gone over this moment in his head. He hoped Draco would be gracious enough to adhere to the script, though he very likely had no idea that there was one.

"A month of detention, because of your stupid plants?" The tone of his voice was deeper, had grown slightly richer with age, but still held that curled edge of a sneer. Neville forced himself to calmly dip his quill in the ink bottle, not lifting his eyes.

"Please have a seat, Mr. Malfoy."

"Don't take that tone with me, Longbottom."

"I'll take whichever tone I choose in my own office, Mr. Malfoy," Neville said crisply, looking up with eyes that he hoped were stern. "And as we clearly are not on a first-name basis, I have grown accustomed to being addressed by my honorific, if you please."

He was satisfied to see astonishment flit briefly across Draco's face before it composed itself into something resembling civility and he slowly lowered himself into the chair before Neville's desk. "My apologies... Professor." It was clear the word tasted bad, and the phrase was dripping in sarcasm, but Neville allowed himself to relax just slightly. Even though the room still boiled with animosity, he'd scored the first point by establishing that this was his office, and he was in control. For the moment, anyway.

"Accepted, Mr. Malfoy." He returned his gaze to the stack of essays in front of him long enough to make a notation on the topmost, then placed his quill to the side and looked up again. "You have a complaint about the punishment I have set for Scorpius?"

"It's asinine," Draco said heatedly. "And an obvious and disgraceful abuse of power."

"Your son was out of bounds, after hours, in a restricted greenhouse," Neville pointed out calmly. "Additionally, he damaged a very rare plant that was to be a focus of fifth-year studies this year."

"So give him one detention and be done with it." Draco's eyes narrowed slightly. "Do not take for granted that you can use your position to punish me by punishing my son."

His predictions were correct. Draco wasn't here for his son; he was here because Neville was embarrassing him personally. Neville picked up his quill again. Thus far, Draco had been following the script masterfully. Here was the part where it could all fall to shambles.

"Did your son tell you why he was in my greenhouses at that hour?" he asked, flipping down to the next essay. He clicked his tongue and underlined a factual error.

"I'm not interested," Draco said dismissively.

"Oh, but I am," Neville said. He looked up at Draco, who sat stiffly in the chair, looking with distaste across the desk at him. Neville met Draco's stare evenly. He knew where the distaste came from: in school, Draco had not thought highly enough of him for them to even be rivals, and now Neville was, seemingly, waving a flag of authority as he rode out on a crusade of revenge, and there was little Draco could do about it. "You see, he was brought there against his will. The plant he damaged did quite a bit more damage to him, and would likely have killed him had the situation been allowed to continue to its inevitable conclusion." He met Draco's eyes and matched his stare. "I'm not impressed with the way Slytherin House determines the pecking order of its students. A boy like Scorpius has little to draw upon to improve his position." He leaned forward slightly, and tried to put gravity into his next words. "It takes a great deal for me to lose my temper and give a whole series of detentions. If Scorpius is not careful, he may begin to gain a reputation for being a thorn in my side." He raised his eyebrows slightly.

A tiny light of realization lit behind Draco's eyes. "Your detentions are ghastly, I'm led to believe."

Neville nodded. "I think they are tough, but fair. The students, however, tend to look with some awe on those lucky enough to finish them unscathed." Neville allowed a very small smile to play on his lips. "You send one student to the hospital wing and suddenly rumor grants your detentions mythical proportions."

Draco nodded slowly. "I imagine a student set a month of such detentions would be looked upon with some... grudging respect."

"Caught on, have you?" Neville said in a very low voice. He turned his eyes back down to the essay in front of him and he crossed out another incorrect statement, noting the correction in the margins.

"Bit devious to be coming from you, Longbottom," Draco said after a moment of silence. Neville glanced up with an arched eyebrow. Draco met his gaze stubbornly, but Neville did not back down. Backing down would be admitting defeat. Finally, Draco sighed. "Professor," he amended. Neville gave a tiny nod in satisfaction.

"I've become rather adept at getting students to think the way I want them to," he said mildly. "It's a good skill for a teacher to have."

"Why my son?" Draco asked baldly. "You loathe me." Neville put down his quill again, taking his time.

"You know, Scorpius asked the same question. I think both of you fail to realize that he's not just the son of Draco Malfoy." Neville corked his ink bottle. "He deserves a chance to be just Scorpius." He rose from his chair, and Draco mirrored him across the desk. He took a deep breath. It had been twenty years since they were students together. It was time to bury the hatchet. "I'm going to the teacher's lounge for a bit of lunch. Would you care to join me?"

The words hung heavily in the air between them. Draco's eyebrows had gone up slightly in surprise for a moment.

"I have another appointment." Draco turned to leave Neville's office, but paused at the door. He looked as though he were fighting with himself. "Your position suits you, Professor," he said reluctantly. A smile tugged at the corner of Neville's mouth as Draco closed the door behind him. It wasn't a peace offering. But it was something.

Scorpius looked extremely sullen as he stumped into Neville's office Friday evening. He set his gloves forcefully on the arm of the chair he'd sat in several nights ago and threw himself down heavily. Neville closed the grade ledger he'd been writing in and stood up.

"Good evening, Mr. Malfoy."

"Evening, Professor," Scorpius said sulkily.

"We'll be in Greenhouse Three tonight," Neville said briskly. "I've got a bale of peat that needs mixing with compost and fertilizer. That will be your job."

The look of disgust and despair that Scorpius threw him was almost enough to make him laugh, if it hadn't also been tinged with the same accusation of betrayal that had nearly cut him to the quick a few nights before.

"Unless you'd rather prune the Thorned Ground Creeper," Neville offered. "It's mostly trained now, and I have a few Blood Replenishing potions at the ready if a strange handler makes it shirty."

Scorpius swallowed. "No, sir," he said dully.

It was much warmer in the greenhouse than outside, and the warm moist air collected on the glass panes of the building and dripped, causing a constant patter against the leaves and ground. Neville inhaled deeply as he stepped into the greenhouse, the smell of green and growing things an instant release of the stress that had been settling between his shoulder blades all day.

Scorpius, however, wrinkled his nose. "It smells in here," he said petulantly.

"Are you planning on being difficult all evening?" Neville asked in a conversational tone.

"You said you were going to help me," Scorpius returned, his small, pale face pinching slightly in anger as he glared at his feet. "And then you went and gave me half a dozen detentions for something that wasn't even my fault."

Neville ignored the accusation. "How many people tripped you in the hallways today?" he asked calmly. Scorpius looked up in confusion. "Spilled ink on your textbooks? Stole your bookbag?" Neville nodded as Scorpius's eyes turned inward as he recalled his day. "Uneventful today, wasn't it?"

"How did you know?" Scorpius asked, his anger seemingly melting away.

"I'm not the only teacher concerned about your well-being," Neville said seriously. He hefted a pair of pruning shears, squinting at their cutting edges to ensure they were sharp enough. "Just the only one with enough clout to dare to do anything." He looked over at Scorpius, who had frozen and was looking at Neville with something close to awe. Neville waved a hand at him dismissively. "Gossip, Mr. Malfoy. You'd be surprised at what some well-placed gossip will do. According to the school, you've gotten on my bad side. That's an... impressive place to be, according to some."

"But... I'm not, really. ...Right?" Scorpius asked in a small voice. Neville shrugged, then winked, keeping his face completely straight.

"You'll be mixing the soil in those three beds. One part peat and fertilizer to two parts compost. Your father visited me yesterday."

There was a soft flopping sound as Scorpius dropped his gloves. "He did?"

Neville nodded as he approached the bed that contained the dark green, writhing plant that was beginning to overgrow its boundaries. He could hear Scorpius scramble to pick up his gloves behind him. "I told him much the same thing I'm telling you: that if you continue on your path as troublemaker, you might end up known as the bane of Professor Longbottom's existence." A precise movement clipped one tendril of the Creeper; it hissed slightly and withdrew itself into the bed. "And as I recall, a certain disregard for authority is another one of those traits that Slytherins value."

The expression on Scorpius's face had shifted from angry to thoughtful as he pulled on his gloves and moved toward the three empty planting beds.

"My dad really came to see you?"

The question was almost timid. Neville glanced over; Scorpius had not actually begun his work, though he'd ripped open the bags in preparation.

"He did," Neville said simply.

"About my detentions?"

"Yes."

There was no more conversation that evening until Neville dismissed Scorpius to enjoy his weekend. It may have been Neville's imagination, but he thought it possible that as he left, Scorpius's shoulders were held just slightly more solidly, his chin slightly higher.