THE WINDOW OPENS WITH A rusty creak and Neville sits back down on the bench, before leaning back against the wall and grinning at Harry, who pushes his glasses up his nose and looks at him.

"I still think it isn't a good idea, Neville –" he begins, but he cuts him off.

"Aren't you enjoying this or not?"

"I am, but –"

"Then it's a perfectly good idea," he answers with a tone of finality. Then he adds, "And anyway, we can't go back now. So you might as well sit tight and enjoy the ride."

The two are currently seated in one of the compartments of the Hogwarts Express, waiting for the train to start its journey to Hogwarts. Neville, after having finished his eighth year, has gone back to the school as Herbology teacher. Harry, on the other hand, has worked in the Auror department for three years before quitting and starting a job as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

It was Neville's idea to go to Hogwarts using the train, rather than apparating there directly. With Harry being an Auror, he had been far to busy to spend quality time with his friends, and he found this a good opportunity to not only catch up with him, but also reminisce their school days.

As the light breeze flutters into the compartment through the window, a wave of nostalgia floods through him. The Hogwarts Express is where he had met his friends for the first time. It holds as many memories as perhaps the castle itself, and as he looks over at Harry and sees the fond look on his face, he knows he is thinking the same thing.

The train starts moving, and the breeze turns into a strong gale, crashing into the compartment and making their hair fly around. With Harry, whose hair is as messy as it has been during their school years, the effect is more prominent.

"I didn't think I would return to Hogwarts this early," Harry says in a quiet mutter, his voice cutting through the sound of the wind whipping against their faces.

"So you didn't have any plans of becoming a teacher?" Neville asks, reaching into his bag to pull out a thermos flask and two small cups. He pours tea into them and passes one over to Harry, who accepts it with a smile.

"No," he shakes his head and takes a sip of the tea. "It has been Auror all along but, it's a tiring work. And after all the shit I had to fight through, I just needed a break from bad wizards."

"Well, it'd be good to have your company," Neville answers with a smile. "I can't wait to see the attention you will get." Harry groans.

Neville doesn't have to wait long, for, when the train passes into the countryside and reaches a steady speed, the students start to move around. He had purposefully chosen a compartment at the far end of the train, and had arrived at the station an hour earlier so as not to attract too much attention, but soon enough, the students find them. While the older ones try to be discreet, the younger ones shamelessly gape at them. He waves at them cheerfully.

"I bet they'll love you," he grins and punches him lightly on the arm.

"What about you?" Harry asks, setting his teacup down on the bench between them. "I'm sure you're a hero to them."

"Well," he shrugs, his face turning slightly pink. "I must admit, I got more attention than I had expected. Apparently, slashing off a snake's head is cooler than defeating the darkest wizard of all time."

Harry laughs. "No surprise there. You did use a legendary sword. I used a disarming charm."

"I still can't believe you used that, of all spells," Neville starts laughing, and a few drops of his tea splash onto his hand. "You used Secrumsempra on Malfoy, but Expelliarmus on Voldemort. You truly are a legend."

Harry's face flushes, and he mutters a shut up before the compartment falls into a calm silence. The only interruption they get are students occasionally peeking into the compartment and whispering, but both of them remain unfazed – used to all the attention.

Neville has to admit, he is content with the direction his life has taken. His love for plants and herbology has paid off, for he has been able to take up the position as a teacher when Professor Sprout has retired shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts. He is well known among the wizarding population, and he believes he is a good enough teacher as well.

A striking change has occurred in his grandmother, something he had come to realise not long after the end of the war. She no longer pressures him in being like his father, and she seems to be quite proud of who he has grown up to be. Whilst she has always fussed about his love for herbology, she hasn't protested a bit at his decision to become a teacher, and has supported him wholeheartedly.

When Neville visits his parents, he sees a change in them too. His mother gives him more wrappers now than she usually did, and his father holds his hand for a long, long time, and even though he doesn't look at him, choosing instead to flit his eyes around the room, Neville feels that they know. They know what their son has done, and they know that he is just as brave as them, and these little gestures are a way to show him how proud they are of him.

Of course, Neville knows that there is a good chance that this might just be a coincidence, but he loves to believe that his parents are in there, somewhere, cheering him on.

"How are things with you and Hannah?" Harry's words tear him away from his thoughts and he looks up at him with a shrug.

"We've decided to take a break for a few months, see how it turns out."

Harry presses his lips, but doesn't say anything.

One of the hardest things Neville had to face after the war was his relationship with Hannah. It wasn't working out for either of them. He does like her, and he truly enjoyed her presence and found comfort in it during the terrible days at Hogwarts. But after the war ended, it seemed like their relationship has lost its footing. It's as though it was based entirely upon the struggles they had to go through together, it was their need for survival, for victory, that strengthened the bond between them, the adrenaline rush that fueled their desires for each other.

Now that all of these are gone, they cannot find anything holding them together. The glue is slowly pulling apart, and no matter how much either of them tries, they cannot find the comfort, the peace, that they have found in each other during the war. There are too many differences between them keeping them apart, and maybe this is the reason they had never got along well during the early school years.

They should have known it would happen again.

But Neville doesn't want to think about it. Not now. He is eagerly waiting for the school year to start, not only because he terribly misses his childhood days, but also because he truly loves teaching. He loves the affection he gets from the little ones, he loves the look of wonder and disbelief in their faces when he tells them about the war, he loves when they ask him questions, not only about the war, but also about his childhood, about his favourite subjects, his favourite colour, his hobbies.

But when the trolley lady arrives and asks, "Anything off the trolley, dears?" with no hint of surprise or recognition in her face, as though there aren't two adults sitting there, Neville suddenly feels like the eleven year old boy he has first stepped onto the Hogwarts Express as, heart fluttering with anticipation as well as nervousness, and he and Harry simultaneously rise to their feet and buy as many sweets as they can – just like they have done as children. They spill all the sweets on the bench between them and indulge themselves with the pleasures and delicacies of life, laughing and talking and laughing more, all the responsibilities of adulthood pushed to the back of their minds, while the small eleven year olds watch them with disbelieving surprise through the glass separating them.