𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑃𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑀𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 | 𝑁𝑒𝑣𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒 𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑜𝑚

Chapter Thirteen - Happee Birthdae Helena

Lunchtime crept along quicker than expected, and it was very soon that Helena found herself descending the front steps of Hogwarts, down on her way to greenhouse three. Upon her arrival, the door remained shut--Neville was nowhere to be seen. She rapped against the wood thrice times, waiting for a response patiently.

"J-just a second!" Neville's voice came then, and it sounded as if he were murmuring to somebody before the sound of something crashing to the ground interrupted. Here Helena could hear him audibly scrambling now, a picture in her head of him hurrying to pick up whatever mess he had just made whilst simultaneously heading for the door. She stifled a laugh.

Moments later, the knob began to jiggle, and then the door swung open to reveal the messy looking professor, his hair sticking out at different angles and dirt smeared in random places on his face. "Hello there," he greeted, trying to be charming despite being visibly out of breath.

Helena allowed herself to giggle now. "You've got a little something. . ." She reached a hand up to brush her thumb against the bridge of his nose, where there was a particularly prominent mark from soil.

Neville seemed embarrassed, but not so much that he shied away. "Oh! It was--the hibiscus--it fell and I just--"

"Got it," Helena cut off his rambling with a smile, taking her hand back as the area was now clean. She peered around his shoulder. "Now. What on earth could you need me for that's so important?"

"Right--that--here, come in."

He seemed jittery, but not in a bad way--more like he was simply teeming with an unbearable amount of excitement. Helena liked seeing him this way. All of her anxiety from earlier was completely dissipated--this couldn't possibly be about the beast from the Forbidden Forest, not with him acting like this.

She was barely three steps in the door when Neville hollered, taking her by surprise. "C'mon out, Harry!"

Then she realized that there was something different going on here. There were some streamers cast over the plants; three balloons were tied down together in one corner of the greenhouse; the air smelled of sweets. . .

"Happy birthday, Helena!" Harry's voice came as he revealed himself; he had been hiding behind one of Neville's two supplies cabinets.

"Happy. . . oh, dear. What's that look on your face?" Neville had turned to her then, at the wrong time; Helena's mouth had dropped in shock. Here she had forgotten her own birthday, and here both of her closest friends were offering her a small celebration, and she had no idea how to respond.

So instead, her eyes began to well up with tears. Spectacular, unexpected tears.

"Oh--Harry--she's going to cry, I think--why are you upset? Are you alright? Maybe we shouldn't have done this whole surprise thing--Gran has a hatred for them too--"

"THISISTHESWEETESTTHINGANYBODYHASEVERDONEFORMEEEEEE." She hadn't meant to wail, but for some reason the words came out that way; she threw her arms around Neville, who froze in confusion for a moment. Now here Harry lingered close, and, blindly, Helena reached out for him, barely grasping the fabric of his flannel before pulling him into the hug. At first, he and Neville did not know how to respond, all squished together like that, but eventually relaxed and hugged her back.

When she finally stepped back out of the hug, there was no hiding some of the tears--happy--on her cheeks. Both Neville and Harry smiled at her.

"I have to be honest, I forgot--but how did you know?" She admitted to them.

Neville held up a folded piece of parchment. "This. Snatched it from McGonagall's desk just to remember. Don't worry, I'll give it back to her."

"Is that. . . is that my résumé?"