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Horace Slughorn was a lovable man, a lovable wizard, and most surprisingly of all, a lovable Slytherin. And this was despite his extremely Slytherin trait of seeking to derive the most benefit out of anyone with something high value to offer him. Not that he didn't offer a return. Not at all. In fact, he was a very good friend, especially for a student who otherwise might be low down in the hierarchy.
He was such a lovable man, wizard, and Slytherin, that everyone, absolutely everyone, including members of his own House, including his fellow professors, including even Death Eaters, forgot he was a Slytherin, promoting him to a sort of ascended Fifth House, above the petty concerns of those doomed to labour away in Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. Even Voldemort forgot, and, contrary to his fears, Horace was left alone when the Dark Lord took over the school.
However, this invulnerability did not prevent him from kicking evil arse during the Battle of Hogwarts, showing up in Slytherin branded pyjamas to duel Voldemort with the help of McGonagall and Shacklebolt in a scene that made good guy soldiers and wretched villains stop and stare, mouths agape.
But that was that. After the Battle, and after the months of decompression and repair, and the return of many of the pupils who had had their seventh year ruined by the takeover, Horace Slughorn returned to doing full time what he did best - being lovable.
"Ms Granger, if I might say, you're looking a little sad today. May I offer you a cup of warming jasmine tea?" The professor found one of his favourite's (and one of those with the greatest potential) pacing up and down the entrance hall, back and forth in front of a section of flooring he himself did not like to linger by or cast his eyes over. Part of the stone was still discoloured, as if the ancient floor was refusing to give up what it took.
The young lady looked up, face disfigured momentarily by horror and grief, before the cloud cleared. "Yes, Professor. Thank you. That would be lovely."
No matter that Horace's office was in a dungeon, it was homely, whether or not it featured cold and elegant emerald green as a mainstay of its decor.
"Here, an extra biscuit." He chuckled, placing an extremely valuable bone China cup and saucer down before the girl, knowing he could trust her not to damage it in the slightest. Knowing he could trust her to appreciate it.
"Thank you, Professor."
"Call me Horace, my dear. You're an adult. More than I in some ways."
A fire crackled, as the pair settled down for a comforting conversation. Eventually, when it was time for Hermione to return to her regular schedule, he brought out another gift, placing a polished chestnut box on the table. Inside were about twenty seeds, shiny and round and hard as marbles, with a semi-transparent outer layer, while inside swirled oranges and red, blues, greens, and yellows. There was even a pink hiding amongst them.
Slughorn prodded this last one. "I know your friend, Mr Longbottom, is the plant man, but these are extra special. Got them from a chap who has connections to a faerie queen."
"Oooh?!" Picking one up and placing it in her palm, Hermione found that it was warm, and glowed slightly.
Horace took another sip of his tea, and plucked an expensive double choc biscuit from a plate. "If you like, Professor Sprout told me that there is a spot in one of the auxiliary greenhouses where you may cultivate those, if you have no place to do so at home."
"Thank you, Professor!"