Author's Note: I can't sufficiently thank those of you who are regular reviewers! For those of you who are reading but have yet to review, see if you can find it in yourself to drop a line! All right, on with the show!

We went to visit the boys in the Hospital Wing late the next morning, after we'd all woken up. It had taken a good deal of sleep to allow us to recover from the previous night's events, especially for Hermione. By the time we were all up and dressed, it was nearly lunchtime.

They were asleep when we got there, which was probably a good thing. Madam Pomfrey looked exhausted. "I don't know what you three get up to, and I don't want to know," she told Hermione when Hermione tried to explain the circumstances. "All I know is, it's probably for the best. Well done on the Transfigurations."

Hermione held her head a little higher. Ginny asked, "Are they both all right?"

She peered at Ginny intently. "Young lady, have a little faith. Your brother and his friend will recover fully in time. Mr. Potter's fingers will take another day, perhaps, to rematerialize, and Mr. Weasley will need to take a potion every three hours for the boils. They are still out cold -- Ms. Granger, I believe you were a tad overenthusiastic in your Stunning."

Now Hermione's shoulders sagged, but I put an arm around her. "You did what you had to do, Hermione," I said quietly.

"You have my permission to Rennervate them," Madam Pomfrey continued. "It should do them no harm."

Ginny flew over to Harry's bed and pulled up a stool. With a flick of her wand, she drew the curtains. Madam Pomfrey's eyebrows went up, but she didn't comment. Hermione took my hand and led me over to Ron's bed. The truth was, I'd've rather waited for my father to regain consciousness, but I loved Ron too, so I went willingly with my aunt.

"Rennervate," Hermione whispered, pointing her wand at Ron's heart. His eyelids fluttered a few times, the vibrant blue of his eyes a stark change from the paleness of his skin.

"'Mione?" he croaked.

Hermione began crying again, and she took his hands in hers. "You're all right, Ron. You're in the Hospital Wing."

He smiled lazily, then all of a sudden, he sat up like a shot. "HARRY!" he cried. "I've hurt him! I -- no, is he -- ?"

"He's fine," I said calmly. "Harry's in the bed across from you. Your sister is waking him up."

He half-settled back down again, but was still in a state of consternation. "I wanted to kill him," he said in wonderment. "I really wanted to kill him. I thought -- I thought he'd --" He cast a beseeching look at Hermione, who was still crying silently. "Oh, Hermione," he said, and I knew I didn't want to be there any longer.

"Carry on," I said stupidly, then hurried out of the Hospital Wing. I badly wanted Neville, so I headed for the Great Hall.

He was sitting on his own, and put a hand out to grasp mine when I approached. "Harry and Ron didn't come home last night," he said by way of greeting.

"They're in the Hospital Wing," I said, and took a spoonful of pasta salad.

"I suppose you know what happened to them?"

I felt a twinge of guilt. I couldn't lie to him now. "Yes."

"And I suppose you won't tell me." His tone was not accusatory; it would've been easier if it had been.

"I can't. I'm so sorry. But Harry doesn't want anyone to know."

He rolled his eyes almost imperceptibly. "Harry has a funny idea of loyalty."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Last June, when Death Eaters were in this castle, I came running the moment he called. But now I can't know what he's up to."

I put a hand on his knee. "Neville, it's not like that."

He turned to face me, and I saw that he was fighting tears. "I've always been the useless one. You know I tried to stop them saving the school our first year? And at the end of fifth year, I smashed the prophecy in the Department of Mysteries."

"You are NOT useless," I gritted. "You're a GRYFFINDOR, Neville. You're terribly brave and utterly loyal."

He frowned and looked at the ground. "You've only known me a couple months."

"I KNOW you, Neville," I said, taking both his hands in mine. "I know you and I trust you. Completely."

He looked up at me and squeezed my hands. "I know you mean that," he said quietly, "and it means the world to me. But I wish Harry trusted me."

"He does," I insisted. "But remember, You Know Who is a Legilimens. If you're ever captured, if Hogwarts is ever attacked, the fewer people who know what's happening, the better." He looked a little placated, but not completely. "Here, I can tell you what I did last night."

He looked up at me, clearly interested. "Ginny, Hermione and I had to . . . destroy something. A Dark artifact." Then I told him the whole story of meeting the unicorns, leaving out only the most important bits: that the cup had been retrieved by the three heroes that night, and that it was a Horcrux.

". . . And then he scratched me on the forehead and left," I finished. "Can you see it?"

He swept the hair on my forehead aside and laid his index finger on the scratch. "I can," he said. "Looks like it'll heal in a day or so."

I closed my eyes at the touch. "Neville . . . ." I murmured. I wanted him not to be upset; I wanted him to smile and let me know he didn't blame me; I wanted him to kiss me, even though we were in the middle of the Great Hall.

"Finish your lunch, Susan," he said gently. "If you're going to be running around the Forbidden Forest by night, you need to keep your strength up."

I did eat, and afterwards, we went out to the Lake. It was mid-November already, so it was rather chilly, but we sat under a tree and talked. He told me about his grandmother, how she had always been rather disappointed in him. I told him that my mother was always sad, and that my father was never around -- though I did not mention why my mother was so sad, nor why I never saw my father, nor that they were two of his Housemates.

"I can't believe we've only been going out a week," I said. "It feels like a long time."

"It does," he agreed. "I'm so glad you transferred to Hogwarts, Susan."

I smiled and kissed him. "I'm glad our Herbology classes got combined."

He laughed at that, and we spent the rest of the afternoon under the tree by the Lake, trading happy confessions and kisses. I begged off dinner, since I thought I'd have to spend some time in the Hospital Wing doing some explaining. I took a couple platefuls of food and went over to see the boys; Hermione and Ginny had brought some schoolwork and were revising in the corner of the room while the two injured parties slept.

I walked in floating chicken legs and a jug of pumpkin juice in front of me. "Anyone hungry?" I said, Conjuring some plates.

Ginny leapt up to help me serve while the boys shook themselves into consciousness. "Goodness, is it dinnertime already?" Hermione asked, extricating herself from her Defense textbook.

I nodded. "I didn't want you lot to starve."

"Thanks, Susan," Harry said quietly. I had not actually seen him awake yet, and I took a good long look at him. His ankle was bound up in a bandage, but beyond that he seemed perfectly fine -- except for a troubled look in his emerald eyes. He had seen the person he trusted most in the world turn on him because of Voldemort's treachery, and I believed it caused him more pain even than seeing Dumbledore murdered.

I attempted to make light of it. "All right there, Harry?"

He tried to smile and failed. "I guess."

Ginny handed him a plate of chicken and a glass of juice. "Eat; you'll feel better."

He regarded the food in a disinterested manner, but picked at it to make my mother happy. "Thanks."

Meanwhile, Ron, who was naturally quite a bit more resilient than his best friend, was tucking into his dinner. "Thanks, Susan!" he said through a mouthful of chicken. Hermione smacked him for talking and eating. "Oi, leave off, Hermione!"

"Be polite," she hissed.

"She's FAMILY," he insisted, and I blushed at the compliment. It was the first time he'd said it so approvingly.

"So . . . ." I didn't want to start the conversation, but it had to happen. "Have you lot discussed what happened last night in London?"

An uncomfortable silence descended. Finally, Harry broke it. "It was worse than Imperius," he said hoarsely. "I could throw that. I got to the point where I could throw it every time. I was ready for that."

Ron shifted in his bed. "It was definitely worse. Imperius just made you do things, not believe them." He winced. "It was awful."

They still hadn't looked at each other while speaking, a fact lost on no one. Hermione said, "I imagine the curse made you believe whatever would destroy you quickest. I've read about those kinds of curses on some swamps in Eastern Europe. If one of you had gone in there by yourself, you probably would have been made to believe that the mist was killing you, or that you had to sacrifice yourself to destroy the cup."

"Susan, Ginny told me how you did destroy it," Harry cut in quickly. "That was brilliant."

"Thanks," I said quietly. "Though it was Hermione's idea."

"It's always Hermione's idea," Ron laughed.

"It's a good thing you kept her out of the fray," I said gently. "If all three of you had been in there, I doubt you would've all survived."

"I reckon you're right," Ron solemnly. Then, because it wasn't likely that Harry would break the ice and Ron knew it, he continued: "Harry, mate, I don't believe you'd ever do anything so awful. You know that, right?"

Harry's expression became a little less troubled as he answered. "'Course. Just like I don't believe you'd do anything like that. If I didn't trust you, I wouldn't --" He colored a little and looked down.

"All right, that's enough for me," Ron said cheerily. "Now, how'm I going to get some pudding? D'you think the house-elves will make a housecall?"

"Ronald Weasley!" cried Hermione, scandalized.

I leapt up. "If I go now, I can grab some, I think."

"I'll come with," Ginny offered, and we left the three to their own devices for a few minutes.

On the way to the Great Hall, Ginny stopped, forcing me to stop as well. She looked me in the eye. "Susan, I . . . I don't know how to thank you. For everything."

I was rather surprised. "I've not been the one going on terribly dangerous missions. You ought to thank Harry for saving the world all the time."

"But without you, they wouldn't even have a starting point. I just wanted to thank you for leaving your school and your family to come help us."

"I had to," I said. "I really didn't have a choice."

"But you did," she said quietly. "So I'm thanking you."

"Well, you're welcome," I said, feeling rather flustered.

"Susan, you -- you're a Seer. That much is obvious now." I nodded. "Harry . . . is he going to live through this?"

I sighed. I knew it would come sooner or later, and I truly didn't know what to say. "Ginny, this is going to sound like a cop-out, but I honestly cannot tell."

She drew a breath, then broke down and began to sob. I'd seen my mother cry many times, and I knew what to do: I pulled her hair back from her face and massaged her shoulders while she wept. "Shh," I said. "It's all right."

"All I want is him," she said brokenly. "He's all I've ever wanted since I was ten years old. I can't lose him."

I wanted to say, "You will, and you'll survive," but I didn't. "You have to prepare yourself for the realities of war," I said firmly, thinking of the brother she would lose.

"Sometimes I just want to grab his wrist and Apparate to -- to China or something," she said wildly. "This is crazy. He's a child."

"He's not," I said.

"I know," she sobbed. "But he is, too. He never had a family. I want to give him a family."

My heart skipped a beat. "He'd make a good father," I said carefully.

"He would, he would," she said. "That should be enough for him to survive. There are a thousand things about him that would be enough. He doesn't deserve to die; Voldemort does, a thousand times over. Damn him, DAMN him."

I kept rubbing her shoulders until her hiccuping sobs stopped and she turned to face me. "Th--thank you. Again." She laughed. "I'm going to be thanking you a lot, I take it."

I shrugged. "You needn't."

"I will anyway." She slipped her hand into mine. "What d'you say, cousin? A last-minute pudding run?"

I grinned. "Yes!"

And we raced down the corridors of Hogwarts, the specter of war hot on our heels, the prospect of apple tarts just before our noses.