Author's Note (this one's important): I've decided to give you, the readers, control over how quickly this story gets updated. The more reviews I get, the quicker the next chapter will be up (the next day at the earliest). On the other hand, if a chapter receives no reviews, the next chapter will be held indefinitely. (Reviews need not be positive; they just have to make sense!) So if you want to know what comes next, just write a quick review, and you'll get to know that much sooner.

Meanwhile, one of my favorite subplots is about to develop, so I'll leave you all to the story!

The three of them did not come to breakfast on the first day of November. Since they also hadn't made the Feast, there were rumors buzzing around, but I serenely buttered a piece of toast and didn't participate.

Halfway through breakfast, Ginny came flying in, her face pink. "They're in the Hospital Wing," she blurted out to me, Neville, Lavender, Seamus, and Dean.

"Are they all right?" I asked.

"Harry was the only one who was hurt," and the expression on her face was a queer mixture of pride and worry. "He's blind, but Madam Pomfrey says it's temporary. Ron and Hermione just fell asleep there."

"BLIND?" yelped Neville. "What on earth happened??"

Ginny set her jaw. "That's for Harry to tell."

I wondered if my father had actually told my mother anything about the night, or if she was bluffing. Probably the latter; Harry, I imagined, was too weak from the effects of Regulus's residual curse to be doing much talking.

The news spread quickly through the Great Hall that the infamously oft-injured triumvirate was spending yet another day in the Hospital Wing. Though Harry couldn't be released till he'd regained his sight, Ron and Hermione were back in the Gryffindor common room that night.

They sat through the excited questioning of their dormmates with aplomb, saying only that they'd been helping Harry with a long-term project, and that he'd return to Hogwarts life soon. After the crowd had dissipated, the couple sidled up to me.

I looked up from my Arithmancy problem set. "I was glad to hear you all made it through all right," I said quietly.

"No thanks to you," Ron said.

I gaped at them. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Hermione placed a calming hand on Ron's arm. "Susan, it's not that we didn't appreciate knowing the location. But we were caught completely off-guard by the ghosts' returning. If you weren't Ron's cousin, I might suspect that you'd deliberately withheld the information on the hopes we would be killed."

It was lucky that I was a naturally calm, subdued person. I didn't jump up and begin shouting, I merely looked at them levelly, Ron especially. "I have told you both time and time again where my loyalties lie. I wish I had Seen more, been able to help you more. But I can't control my abilities. I told you all that I Saw. And you retrieved the locket, correct?"

They had the good grace to look a little chagrined. "Yes," Ron said.

"How do we destroy it?" Hermione asked anxiously.

I shook my head. "I See that this is something you must figure out for yourself." I couldn't fight Hermione's intellectual battles for her; she'd never go on to make the contributions to Wizarding society she needed to, otherwise.

Ron took a step forward. "What bloody good are you?" he cried.

I suddenly missed, terribly missed, the Uncle Ron I knew and loved, who never would have spoken that way to me. I closed my eyes and thought back to the previous summer, when I'd lived for a month with my aunt and uncle and Henry, Lynnea, and Chester, their three small children. I'd felt like a big sister for the first time in my life. And Ron had almost been the father I'd never had. Now he was shouting at me because he didn't care about me; he barely knew me. It was a far cry from the life I knew.

I fought back the tears that threatened to overwhelm me, though I kept my eyes shut. "I'm sorry I can't help you more on this task," I said steadily, "but there is a reason for everything. There's a reason why I can or can't See certain things. I assume the forces of good are helping me to help you; what they choose to reveal is not something I can control. I will let all three of you know when I have more information about the second Horcrux."

"But --" came Ron's voice.

"Hush," Hermione said, and I heard their retreating footsteps.

Why hadn't I told them more about the locket? Well, I'd told them what Mum and Aunt Mi-Mi had told me to tell them . . . which was what they remembered my having told them. For the first time I felt truly hampered by my place in time, and I resented my lack of choices.

When I could stand to move, I scurried up to my dorm and fell on my bed crying softly. I wanted my mother.

"Susan? Are you all right?"

I dashed the tears from my eyes and sat up abruptly. There was my mother, sure enough, but she wasn't really my mother. I wanted the mother who had placed a Bertie Botts Bean on my boo-boos and told me to eat it when it didn't hurt anymore. I wanted the mother who had held me while I sobbed that Jamie Lupin only had eyes for Polly Wellek. I wanted the mother who had looked me straight in the eye before I donned the Time Turner and said, "You are strong, Susan. You are stronger than most people ever have to be. Be safe, and come back to me."

"I'm all right, Ginny," I said, snuffling a little.

"You're not," she said gently, and sat on the foot of my bed. "D'you feel guilty about Harry?"

I shook my head miserably. "It's stupid," I said.

"Susan, I cried myself to sleep over Harry Potter at least once a week for five years. Nothing is stupid to me."

I giggled a little. "Right. Well. I just don't think Ron likes me very much. Nor does Hermione. I think Harry understands, actually, that sometimes destiny throws you for a loop, but the other two . . . they want me to be perfect. I -- I can't be perfect." Here I began sobbing in earnest and buried my head in the crook between my folded knees.

"There, now, don't cry," Ginny said soothingly, caressing my long, red hair. "No one expects that of you."

"I want my mum," I wailed, much to my embarrassment.

Ginny didn't say another word, just gathered me up in her arms and rocked me gently. I could almost pretend it was really her, not some long-ago version.

She must have spoken with her brother and Hermione, because they didn't approach me again. Harry did come to me when he got out of the Hospital Wing, but it was to thank me. "I know how hard it is when you get a vision," he explained. "I'm just glad you were able to pinpoint it as well as you did."

I smiled a bit. "I'll tell you as soon as I See anything about another Horcrux."

He frowned. "Right now we have to concentrate on destroying this one. I'm glad you convinced me to come back to school, Susan. I thought we could go after the Horcruxes on our own, but this was the one that Voldemort had lost control of, and we got caught badly off-guard. I can only imagine what would've happened had we been tackling one of Voldemort's own traps."

I nodded. "You will discover a way to destroy the locket," I assured him. "I See that you three will bring an end to this piece of the soul of He Who Must Not Be Named."

Harry nodded back, seemingly unsurprised. "Hermione does have an idea; we'll do it this Hogsmeade weekend, when the castle's relatively empty. You're welcome to join us."

I thought about agreeing, then remembered my date with Neville. "Thanks, but no," I said. "I've got some things to get in Hogsmeade. Let me know if you need anything?"

"Thanks, yeah," he said, and I knew that Harry trusted me now, as much as he trusted anyone outside his innermost circle.

So that Saturday, I put on my Gryffindor scarf and warm coat and met Neville in the common room. "You ready?" he asked unnecessarily.

I didn't blame him for being nervous. "Indeed," I said, and smiled as calmly as I could.

We walked out with all the other upperclass students to the village. No one remarked on our being together; people must have assumed that in the absence of the three heroes and Ginny, we banded together by default.

Neither of us felt much like going into the stores right off, so we headed over to the Shrieking Shack instead. "Did you meet Professor Lupin?" Neville asked me.

I almost said, "Of course, he's my best mate's dad," but stopped myself. "I . . . well. I don't know if this is the kind of thing you say on a first date," I started lamely. I had no idea what one did on a first date; this was my first one ever.

Neville looked startled. "What -- what could you possibly have to say?" he wondered.

"I'll tell you," I said, "but you must promise to believe me."

He nodded fervently. "I know you're an honest person, Susan."

I blushed at that, knowing I was about to tell the biggest lie of all. "Well, then. I'm a Seer."

Comprehension dawned in Neville's eyes. "That makes so much sense," he breathed. "That's how you're helping Harry, isn't it?"

It was my turn to be startled. "Yes! I must admit, no one else cottoned on so quick."

"I know about prophecies," he said mysteriously.

I didn't press him. "So, well, I only met Professor Lupin briefly, at Bill's wedding, but I've Seen more of him."

Neville laughed a little. "I'm sure this is no surprise to you, then, but he transformed here when he went to Hogwarts."

I had, in fact, known that. Jamie, his and Tonks's son, who was remarkably normal -- he was neither a lycanthrope nor a Metamorphmagus -- was in fact my best mate. I'd had an awful crush on him in third year, but now we were just friends. Jamie had been dating a sweet Muggleborn girl named Polly since our fifth year. I wondered idly how the two of them were doing. Or rather, how they would be doing. It wasn't as if time were happening without me, really. Or was it?

We stood and stared at the Shack for a bit. "Poor ramshackle little place," I said at length. "Not even any proper ghosts there."

"No," Neville agreed. "A nice Wizarding family should live there and bring a ghoul or three along."

"Some gnomes," I rejoined, "a Jarvey, and an old, contented Crup."

He grinned. "That sounds like the perfect family."

"I'm sure the Shrieking Shack would be a happier place for it."

Neville got a distant look in his eyes. "If my parents ever recover, I'll see if I can convince them to buy it."

My heart leapt to my throat. His parents . . . ? My training hadn't included any of this. "Your parents," I said helplessly.

"Bellatrix Lestrange tortured them to the point of insanity when I was a year old," he said mechanically. "I've lived with my grandmother ever since. We sold my parents' house when I was four or so."

I automatically put a hand on his wrist, and he turned his hand and laced our fingers together. I shivered happily at the contact. "I'm so sorry, Neville."

He looked into my eyes. "So am I," he said, "but that's the way life goes sometimes. Sometimes it's hard, and we can't see why. Maybe there's no reason at all. But I'll fight in this war, and I'll finish what my parents started."

His statement had the ring of actual Sight, but I didn't think Neville was a Seer. Sometimes just believing that you'd do something was enough.

I didn't respond, just sidled up to him; he unlaced our fingers and put his arm around my shoulder instead.

After a long time standing silently, we composed ourselves and walked down into the village. Together we browsed the bookstore (which contained no less than three unauthorized biographies of Harry), the post office (where tatty "WANTED!" posters still hung of all the Azkaban escapees), and Dervish and Banges (where their top seller, an expensive intruder alert system, was being displayed up front). Everywhere, there were reminders that this war was still roaring onward.

Our last stop was the Three Broomsticks, where Neville bought me the day's special: hot chocolate with a shot of pumpkin liqueur. It was delicious, and I curled my hands around the mug to ward off the cold. There were a few other Hogwarts students in the pub, but they were from other Houses and younger, eager to try their first butterbeers.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" I asked for the fourth time, as I sipped the drink down to its dregs.

"I'm sure," Neville said, and sat strangely still in his seat. He was not sitting across the table from me, but to my left side, where we could both watch the people coming and going.

After my last sip, I set down the empty mug with a thump. "Thank you, it was delicious," I said. "I wish you could've tasted it."

Time seemed to stand still for a moment. I felt, rather than saw, the change in Neville's body language. I knew what was coming, and I involuntarily braced myself for it.

My words were still hanging in the air when he leaned in and kissed me. It was gentle and hardly lasted more than a second. I did not feel fireworks or any of the other nonsense I'd heard the other girls talk about. I did feel something, though, that shot through me, from my mouth down to my toes, and lodged somewhere around my stomach. I didn't know what the something was, except that it seemed to want me to kiss Neville back.

So when he pulled back quickly to survey my face, I didn't let him stay apart from me for long. Before he could say a word, I leaned over to him and kissed him, tilting my head so that it felt less like a kiss one could give a friend or relation.

When I leaned back, he looked slightly dazed. He recovered fairly quickly, though, and said, "You're right. Delicious."

I blushed. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," I murmured, looking down at my hands.

"It was my first kiss," he said, and I looked up at him gratefully. Of course he was honest enough to admit to it; it was Neville.

"Mine too," I said quickly.

He smiled then, and it looked as though his face would split. "Do you fancy getting some more practice?"

I grinned. "I rather think I do."

He reached over and took my hand again. "Does this make you my girlfriend?"

"Only if it makes you my boyfriend."

We walked back to the castle hand in hand that afternoon, though for all I knew, I could have been gliding on the clouds.