THIS IS A ONESHOT WRITTEN FOR A POTIONS CLASS IN HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT & WIZARDRY. IT IS MY FIRST ASSINMAENT.

Main Characters: Neville Longbottom and Professor Pomona Sprout

Summary: Neville goes to Pomona with some news.

"I was shaking throughout the entire experience. I almost couldn't breathe! I nearly fainted!" I told her, it coming out in a rush. It was true, it was the best and the worst experience of my life.

"It made me cry. With happiness and with pain. I was saying to the doctors, 'I'll do anything, anything to stop her pain. She looked like she was in agony." I told Pomona Sprout all my emotions from my recent experience. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, telling someone about the harder part, the less beautiful part of everything.

"I was literally paralyzed during the whole thing. I stood there, doing nothing for her. I was just watching her in pain." I was gently sobbing now. The whole experience left me wishing I had done something for her.

"Pomona, you always were my favourite teacher here at Hogwarts. You were the only one who understood me. You were the only one who saw my potential. For the reasons, I want you to be her Godmother. Nova-Alice Pomona Longbottom."

I had married Hannah Abbott in 2001, 3 years after the Battle of Hogwarts. Three years after I realised that I was falling for 'the girl' while chasing my high school crush. We were always friends, seeing as I sat with her on the Hogwarts Express. We had stayed firm friends throughout Hogwarts despite us being in different houses. She helped me after the War, helping me to return with normal, helping me recover from the horrors and heartbreak of the war. She was my main Healer, the one who helped me the most. It just took me a while to realise how much she helped me.

We dated for a while, each growing to love the other more every day. I really did love her, more than anything in the world. She was my soulmate, no questions asked. We married after a year and a half of dating. We knew we were made for each other, as cheesy as it sounds. I knew she loved me as much as loved her. I wouldn't let anyone take her from me. I would die for her. I would go to Heaven and back, just for her safety and her true love.

We were both family people, her coming from a large Pure-Blood family and me having no family other than my Gran. Having a large family was our unspoken goal, we both knew it. Hannah fell pregnant in 2003, expecting twins. A boy and a girl. We were over-the-moon. Hannah had a happy and healthy pregnancy, both babies safe and well. She was so mellow and calm during the whole experience. She didn't make any irrational choices, she didn't stop helping at the hospital and she didn't shout and scream and become over-hormonal. She stayed the same, perfect, my Hannah. Her love for everyone stayed the same; she was still my lovely, Hufflepuff Hannah.

It wasn't until she was 8 and a half months pregnant was she any different. She woke up stressed and tired. She wasn't happy, she wasn't carefree. She was snappy and… hormonal. When I asked her what the matter was, she burst into tears. An extreme stomach pain was her answer. I knew something was wrong. It wasn't normal for her, to show this much pain. Hannah didn't over-exaggerate. I completed the next action without thinking. I took her straight to St. Mungo's out of impulse. That's how much I loved her.

She was in Labour. One of our precious babies had died. Our little boy we were going to call Frank Harry Longbottom had died. He was to be born sleeping. We both cried, in pain and sorrow, in loss and agony. Her labour caused her extreme pain, more than normal. For 14 long hours pains shot through her body, sending powerful shockwaves of pure agony. I could hardly watch my beautiful wife in pain. For her 8 months of pregnancy to end like this, how was it fair? What had she done to deserve this? I was paralysed, unable to watch her scream in pain that I had helped cause. Her screams were as piercing as a mandrake, leaving me in a similar state. I felt so… helpless.

When the nurse told me it was time, that my baby was on its way and that her pain would stop, I snapped out of my trans. I knelt down, ready to catch my baby. Her screams echoed through the halls of St. Mungo's, everything slowed down like in the Muggle movie I had watched with Harry. She screamed and pushed her body tiring with every push, with every scream. Then it stopped. Her screams finally stopped. There was a two second break before a high-pitched wail came to my ears. Our baby had been born, healthy and fine.

There was never a true reason why Frank died. They had guessed but there was never a true answer. We took what we got, trying to forget about the loss of Frank and focus on our little girl. We decided to call her Nova-Alice. After the explosions of pain Hannah received from her and after my mother. She looks just like Hannah: Blonde hair and azure coloured eyes. She was a beauty who screamed more than a Banshee. We truly loved her. She soon became our centre of our lives.

I had come to Pomona after we had put Nova to sleep. The Healers told us to take breaks from looking after her, as new-borns caused excessive tiredness. We had hardly put her down at first, too scared we lose her. We soon regained our senses, putting her down, caring for her much more sensibly. It was my turn away from home now. I chose to come here to tell Pomona the news and to inform her of our decision.

Pomona listened to my story, drinking every word and offering some in comfort. She was a true Hufflepuff, her heart her most important feature. These were reasons why we picked her to be our daughters Godmother.

"Neville, I'm truly honoured to be your child's Godmother, but aren't I a bit old?" Her soft voice and expression told me she truly wanted the honour.

"Pomona, no you're not too old, you never will be." My reply brought a massive grin to her face, lighting it up.

"Neville, I am truly honoured. I had bought them a rattle as a gift. It is just like the one I had as a child. Can you take it with you?" She dug around in her cupboard before pulling out a yellow box covered in black stars. The Hufflepuff colours. She handed me the box and said "Neville, I hope you child is as every bit as kind and brave as her parents." Her statement really touched my heart. I no longer wanted my daughter to be a Gryffindor like me. I wanted her to be a Hufflepuff. I wanted her to be as Kind and as loyal as her Godmother.