"Cheer up, Neve!" Gran said, handing me a card. "It's not everyday you turn sweet sixteen!"

I sat glumly at the kitchen table where Gran had lain out a special birthday breakfast: waffles with blueberries and whipped cream, drizzled in golden syrup.

It was usually my favourite part of my birthday, but this year I felt I had little to celebrate.

The end of school had been unbearable. I hadn't seen much of Draco in those last few days, but when I had happened to pass him in the hallways, he would just walk on past, glancing away as if we were nothing but strangers; not even acquaintances.

To think that I had lain myself bare for him; begged for him as we shared the most intimate experience possible. And then just hours later he had admitted he had done it out of pity for me; poor Neve Longbottom.

The humiliation was unbearable.

Trying my hardest to give Gran a grateful smile, I took the card from her as I placed Trevor on the table beside me.

As always, she had signed my parents name on the bottom, alongside hers.

Sadly brushing my finger over the ink of their names, I realised I needed to pull myself together. They hadn't given up their sanity for me to go around moping about a boy who didn't want to be with me.

Gran gave me a new book about magical plants and promised to buy me a brand new wand when we made our trip to Diagon Alley at the end of the summer.

"You deserve it, Neve," Gran beamed when I thanked her profusely. "I've never been prouder - I always knew you and Harry Potter would make a good team! Wait until we tell your parents!"

Gran looked over to the fridge where she had cut out and collected all the articles about the battle in the Department of Mysteries; displaying them proudly on every inch of surface available.

I smiled back, wanting to share her enthusiasm, but all I felt was this uneasiness settling like a lead weight in the pit of my stomach whenever I thought about that night.

The Cruciatus Curse; Sirius Black's death; Draco's father being captured... giving myself finally to the boy who I had fallen completely and utterly for - only to be instantly snubbed.

It was a night that I didn't like to think about.

When the owl post arrived, I was surprised by the amount of cards I received. Not only had Hermione sent me a card like she usually did, but Luna, Ginny, Ron and Harry each sent one too.

Harry's card even had a badge attached to it that read Happy Birthday above a picture of a green frog (Trevor frowned at this).

"My Neve," Gran cried with tears in her eyes as she proudly read each card, "such a popular lass, just like your father was!"

And when my O.W.L. results arrived, Gran actually did burst into tears.

"Exceeds Expectations in Defence Against the Dark Arts and an Outstanding in Herbology!" She blubbered, dabbing her hankie at her eyes. "Oh, Neve! Our little brain box; wait until I tell the ladies down at Bat-Wing Bingo!"

We spent the day at St Mungo's where Gran continued to talk incessantly to my oblivious parents about how proud she was of 'our Neve'. I tried so hard to smile along and not let my mind constantly wander to a certain blond haired Slytherin.

He had seemed so fearful about what lay ahead for himself and his mother. And despite how hurt I felt by his rejection, I couldn't help but worry about him - feel sorry for him, even.

But I couldn't imagine what it was that he was expecting Voldemort to do to him. Lucius Malfoy hadn't been the only Death Eater there that night who had failed and gotten themselves captured. If Voldemort was going to be angry at anyone for that night, surely it would be aimed towards Harry or even Dumbledore?

"Come on then Neve, dear," Gran said, shaking me out of my thoughts. "Time to say goodbye to your mum and dad now. We don't want to be late home for your special tea."

When I kissed my parents goodbye, I hugged them a little harder than usual.

"I promise I'll do you proud, Dad," I whispered in my father's ear.

He stared blankly up at the ceiling.

Our 'special' tea was just Gran, Trevor and I eating supper on our laps in front of the television (Gran loved to watch Muggle soaps), instead of at the kitchen table.

I was just about to call it a night after thanking Gran profusely for such a wonderful day, when there was an unexpected knock at the front door.

Gran and I looked at one another in bewilderment.

"Who is it?" Gran asked, glancing up fearfully at the clock. It was quarter past ten at night.

We never usually got visitors in the day, let alone at this suspiciously late hour. And given the dangerous times we were currently in, this was indeed a worrying turn of events.

I swallowed, getting up off the sofa and patting my jeans pocket to make sure my wand was stowed safely there.

"I'll get it, Gran," I said more courageously than I felt.

She looked at me gratefully, looking suddenly ever so small in her armchair.

"My brave Neve," she beamed.

Trevor croaked up at me nervously. I gave him a nod to let him know I'd be fine.

My heart hammering in my chest, I crept down the hallway.

"Who is it?" I called, cursing myself at the tremor in my voice.

But there was no answer. And by the time I reached the door to open it, I was convinced no one was there at all.

Slowly, I creaked open the door, holding my wand shakily in my hand as I poked my head out.

As I suspected, there appeared to be no one there, and I was just about to shut the door back up when my eyes were drawn down to an object on the doorstep in front of me.

Not an object - a plant.

A very familiar plant.

My fear completely being replaced by curiosity, I opened the door all the way and crouched down to inspect it closer.

Sure enough, my eyes did not deceive me as I took in the grey, pulsating, boil filled cactus.

It was a Mimbulus mimbletonia!

With my heart fluttering in excitement, I picked it up and cradled it happily to me. I gave a quick glance up and down the street, hoping to see who might have left it; but there was not a soul to be seen.

A piece of paper, which must have been stuck to the bottom, fluttered down to the ground. I quickly bent down to retrieve it, and carefully unfolded the small, white notepaper.

Written across it, in an unfamiliar neat scrawl, were just four words.

Happy Birthday Frog Princess

*****