1. Thanks a lot to romioneB for helping beta this chapter. I am sure it will be far better with that valuable advice. Also thanks to Ana-DaughterofHades who helped me years ago on the initial version of this.

2. Any error here is mine and not from my reviewer.

3. I'm slow but I do move forward. PJO story update coming next, followed by an update for Uncrushed I have been promising to romioneB for some time now, then I'll be back for chap 13 of this one. I have a schedule in my profile, I don't follow it as well as I would like but I do think of it as a rough blueprint.

4. I have a twitter account (TimeTravelFFics), and I also have a poll around here. The story with more upvotes might get a new chap sooner.

5. I do read reviews and appreciate all of them. Can't answer Guest reviews, will get them here when I see some. No Guest reviewed the last chap though.

Snape spent the next few days trying to figure out who had jinxed him during the match. Every one of his classes became a gruelling interrogation of everyone's whereabouts at the time it had happened. Snape was dogged on searching for any clue or faltering testimony that could lead him to the culprit. Neville got the worst of it, and he almost fainted twice in the same day at that prick's fierce questioning. Considering what everyone saw at the Quidditch pitch, one would imagine Snape having his plate full with Quirrell, but that didn't seem to be the case. At times, it appeared as if Snape's deepest desire was only to get back at whoever had knocked him out of his seat at the game.

The match had been a total disaster for Ron as well, but at least he knew that Snape wasn't going to track that one back to him. After all, Ron was only a first year, and he couldn't have possibly cast a spell like that. Even Hermione was having a hard time trying to believe that he got to Snape in time, which was pants because she was a more burning problem than even Snape.

Hermione was still talking to Ron whenever they met at the library, yet her tone was drier and more distant than it had been before the Quidditch match. He knew her well enough to understand that she wasn't going to be as friendly as before unless Ron admitted something about Quirrell. It went without saying that the explanations he had given her so far weren't going to cut it, as they both knew they were full of it.

Each one of Ron's options was bollocks, and he had no bloody idea of what to do next.

One wrong step and the timeline would be blown to bits. Not to mention that Quirrell had Voldemort sprouting from the back of his head like some sort of freakish fungus! He was dangerous for fuck's sake! Ron couldn't let Hermione get anywhere near him. He just couldn't.

What if I'm just being thick about it? What if the timeline is fucked up already and I'm just as oblivious about it as old Binns is of his own death?

Ever since he had travelled back, Ron had made one error after the other, but this time it was different. He wasn't sure if things could be put back the way they were supposed to be anymore. As difficult as the task was, making Harry and Hermione be friends again was a feasible goal. On the other hand though, Ron had no bloody way of fixing the business of Harry catching the snitch with his hand instead of almost swallowing it by accident as he was supposed to.

Ron still hoped the timeline could be salvaged somehow, even if at times it felt like more wishful thinking than his desire to get the older Harry back.

It may be a long shot, but there's a chance that Dumbledore could get around the snitch rubbish. If I could only manage to fix everything else...

Ron thought the Christmas break would allow him to calmly go over his options, but apparently breaks were worth crap when the universe was so dead set on coming back to bite someone in the arse.

The week after the game, things took a turn away from the calm plans Ron had foreseen. Defence Against the Dark Arts class started normally, with Quirrell faking his usual nervous mannerisms as he went on about Bowtruckles, however everything changed when Hermione raised her hand eagerly.

"Ee— well, ehmm y—y—yes Miss... Miss... G—Granger?" asked Quirrell, "Did y—you miss something?"

Ron had to appreciate that the prick looked truly horrified, as if the prospect of Hermione asking him complex questions about Bowtruckles was his worst nightmare. He was a bleeding good actor.

"No professor, sorry. My doubt isn't related to Bowtruckles."

At this, the whole class turned to her, Seamus looked especially eager to start talking about anything else. "I'm curious about spells and counterspells."

Ron almost choked, and his quill fell from his hand. He immediately turned his frightened eyes to the man at the front of class.

"Spells... and co—co—counterspells?"

"Yes," the girl hurried on as if she had her words prepared, which she might very well have, "It's not in the topics we're presently studying, I'm aware of that, professor. Still, I checked this book out the other day, which happened to have a scarce note on spells and counterspells. It left me wondering— is there perhaps a chance that this could have anything to do with what happened to Harry's broom during the game?"

Bowtruckle's habits were undeniably dull for the class, but the mention of Harry's broom brought a few whispers out. Even Lavender turned back to exchange some quiet words with Sally-Anne.

Quirrell, for once, was serious. Ron didn't know what to do or say. He wanted to pull on Hermione's sleeve and tell her to let it go, he wanted to tell her that she had no fucking idea who she was dealing with. However, all he was able to do was move his eyes impatiently between the professor and Hermione. Next to him, Harry leaned forward, even more interested than the rest of the class, but just as ignorant and oblivious as everyone else.

When Quirrell didn't answer, Hermione took the chance to continue. "I read that you have to keep eye contact with the item you're jinxing at all times, which would've gone unaware at the game. We were all looking at Harry after all. I thought that, with your knowledge in the matter, maybe you knew of more signs that could be identified. I'm really curious."

If that was the truth, then Ron was a ginger cornish pixie. All common signs of spells and counterspells were easy enough to be found at the library, and he be damned if Hermione hadn't read all about them already. The only thing she wanted with her question was to see Quirrell's reaction.

"That's t—t—too advanced for this class, and I—I... well I—I can't remember much about it now. It's, well.. let's be—better stay with Bowtruckles."

After that, Quirrell continued his lesson swiftly and without leaving Hermione any chance to protest. He kept acting the entire time exactly as he was supposed to, but Ron didn't miss the cold eyes he threw at Hermione each time his eyes landed on her. Things were more complicated than Ron had thought. One little mistake was something he couldn't afford now. Not anymore.

As soon as the class was over, Ron headed immediately after Hermione, but she dismissed his efforts of telling her to be more subtle with Quirrell. She accused him of having second thoughts about Professor Quirrell and, when Ron stumbled back into his Snape argument, the girl huffed and walked away.

Ron was still nervous when Harry reached him, but unlike Hermione, the boy was quicker in accepting Ron's excuses.

It had taken little effort to convince his friend that Snape was behind the broom hijacking, and things were moving fine with the rest of Philosopher's Stone matters. The day of the match Ron had to ask Hagrid more questions than expected to get him to slip in the name of Nicolas Flamel, but it did happen at the end. He had thought of that as a small victory. As long as they were on track with the stone, there was still a slim chance of putting everything back together, he reasoned. Now he didn't care.

How could he care about the stone if a first year Hermione was there being a threat to Voldemort? If she kept asking things like that and turned too pesky for him... What would he do then?

After a heavy sigh and deciding to keep Hermione within eye distance, Ron followed Harry to their next class.

Those days were unbearably tense. Ron kept insisting for Hermione to stop pushing Quirrell, but the girl stubbornly believed that she was doing the right thing. Every class, Ron's hands trembled under his desk, wishing that it wasn't the day Hermione said too much.

Sometimes Ron imagined Quirrell being discovered. These wildest thoughts always ended up with Voldemort revealing himself, and Ron fighting him in the middle of a classroom full of first years, with two of the most important people in his life there.

Ron shuddered at the possibility. Fighting Voldemort was bonkers, he couldn't do it. That task had always been intended for Harry or Dumbledore. Not someone like him.

Even so, whenever it seemed like Hermione was eyeing Quirrell too intently, Ron's instincts were put on the edge. It didn't matter that she wasn't precisely the wife Ron had left behind, that little girl was still Hermione, and if he had to, he would fight Voldemort to the ruddy end to keep her safe. Time continuity be damned.

Ron prepared himself for the dreaded moment, which thankfully didn't come. Hermione hadn't dropped the issue, but to Ron's relief, Christmas break arrived before she had time to make Quirrell even more suspicious of her.

Not everything was good news with the break though, since Hermione going away for the holidays meant that he was going to spend Christmas without her.

To his bitter luck, a formal farewell was all Ron got from her as she headed for the train home, something which felt blisteringly off to him. The young Hermione wasn't Ron's wife in the proper sense, but he had grown to rely on the familiar feeling her presence brought to him.

Ron found himself missing her even before the train left Hogsmeade.

o0o0o

The days that followed were truly a breather and something Ron had been craving for a while.

As expected, Ron's family had gone to visit Charlie in Romania, which was a positive for sure. He would have liked to see his parents and Ginny again, but he didn't think he would have had the head to deal with yet another change to the timeline.

Thanks to Percy's letters, Ron's mother was aware of his latest results in school, which had her bursting with cheers whenever she wrote to him. It made him feel awkward to say the least, being hailed for hitting good marks on a first year course. Ron's mail exchange with the Burrow had been normal asides from that, and for that reason he would have toppled over had the Romania trip changed unexpectedly.

It's not like I'm dying to get near a dragon again anyways.

Not only that, Ron took advantage of the refreshing and crowdless break, and Harry also enjoyed having the time to admire a much emptier castle. It was hard to believe how that git Malfoy couldn't see that Harry was actually happier staying at Hogwarts and still decided to mock them for being left behind.

He was a wanker in the making. Harry might have done the honourable thing and kept him out of Azkaban after the war, but that didn't mean Malfoy wasn't a prick anyway.

The spare time gave them some time to search for information about Nicolas Flamel as well, though Ron tried to avoid Harry figuring it all out ahead of time. He imagined that it was probably best to let it go like last time, especially since Hermione didn't want to hear anything about it yet. She needed to be with them when Nicolas Flamel and the stone were finally revealed.

The holidays let Ron forget about some of his worries for a bit — the cosy common room and the wickedly good marshmallows helped with that. However, from time to time he stared at some fixed point in the distance and his mind wandered afar. Whenever Harry saw him looking serious, the boy surely imagined he was thinking of Flamel when the truth was that Ron was mostly thinking about what Hermione might be doing. The concern of how to keep Quirrell away from her occupied his thoughts constantly as well.

Wizarding Chess usually helped him relax. Ron tried to let Harry beat him a couple of times but it proved more difficult than winning. It was quite unfair really. It had been uneven when Ron had the mind of a first year, but after all the extra years of getting to master new plays he was practically taking advantage of his friend now. Nevertheless, Harry's disappointment was often covered in amusement and he seemed fascinated by the chess set that Seamus had lent him.

To Ron, it was nothing like his old set. The one he left behind. He took one of Seamus' fallen knights and smiled stupidly at it. Ron's grandfather Septimus — who had gifted him with his first chess set, the one he was playing with at the moment — had been a staunch champion of the rook game, but Ron had always favoured knights.

He still remembered that night, something under three years ago for him. It had been Ron's birthday, and the Burrow had been packed with people. Unlike his last family meeting before travelling through time, there had been nothing like the attack on Azkaban to darken the celebration then. All the Weasleys were there, even Charlie, and some friends had come over as well.

The food had been splendid, since his mother had made every one of his favourite dishes, and then some. The gifts had been just as good. George had pranked him that day, not with Party Blasters or raccoon hair, but with some sort of itching candy. Afterwards, his brother had given him some neat sticking sneakers, which Ron still had back in his time. Luna had given him the weirdest hat ever as a present, and Neville a brand new wand holster. All in all, every gift was amazing, but Ginny's had really caught his attention. Ron had thought the signed jersey of Ritchie Kneen — the Cannon's keeper — would be almost impossible to beat.

That was until Hermione's turn came.

Ron remembered all eyes on his girlfriend as Hermione approached him gleefully with a package. Bill had insisted she should be last in giving her present and everyone else had agreed. Ron had been beaming as he unwrapped it.

"A book?! Come on Hermione, you know him better than that!" Charlie had boomed when the wrapping made way to a large brown book. George, Ginny and Harry had booed in the back.

"What do you mean? A book is an all-around, great gift," Percy had argued. Angelina and Audrey had joined the booing after that.

Ron remembered having been briefly confused. A book wasn't what he had expected, not even from Hermione. She knew him better than that. Still, the beautiful girlfriend of his had smiled timidly, encouraging him to turn the book over, and puzzled, Ron did so.

"Everyday Transfiguration: All You Need To Know To Make Your Own Magical Chess Set," Ron had read the title out loud, perplexed.

"I take it back," Charlie had conceded afterwards.

At his seat, Ron had been stunned, still trying to grasp his head around the book Hermione had given him. He had looked directly into his girlfriend's eyes, full of joy and amazement. Even after that, she looked nervous, unsure if he liked the present. That was the moment Ron knew he had to marry that woman.

"I love you," Ron had announced to a room full of his family and friends, then rushed towards the blushing Hermione. The whistles and words exploded, yet Ron hadn't cared about them, not a bit.

Never in his life had Ron read a book as quickly and thoroughly as that one. It had taken him a few months to master the complex Transfiguration spells in it, but once he did, he made his first walking chess piece rather quickly. An orange knight. Before creating any more pieces, Ron had focused entirely on one single task: teaching a walking chess horse how to deliver an engagement ring across a table.

"Hey, Ron, are you there?"

The voice brought Ron back to the current room, to his eleven-year-old body. Seamus was staring at him, passing a hand in front of his face.

"Yeah, sure. What is it with you lot?"

"Where were you? We're going to dinner. I know my chess set is the finest you've seen, but that doesn't mean you get to keep my knight," Seamus said with a grin.

"You're bloody delusional. Not a chance yours would hold a candle to mine," Ron answered as he returned the chess piece.

Seamus and Harry gave him an odd look, thinking he was talking of his Grandpa's old set. After all, they had heard Ron whine about its worn-out pieces earlier.

That wasn't quite what Ron had been thinking though. His Grandpa's set was sturdy and Ron always remembered it fondly since he had learned so much from it. However, that was not it. Seamus' set was alright too, yet far from the finest. That honour belonged to the set Ron had left before travelling to the past, a white and orange one which he had made himself one piece at a time.

o0o0o

Christmas eve arrived before Ron knew it, and Ron went to bed that night with a head full of wistful thoughts. His Christmas at the Burrow had been wonderful, full of presents and with loads of kids stumbling around the place. This time didn't feel the same, even with Harry beaming next to him.

The sweets from Hermione that Ron found the next morning were comforting and saddening at the same time. It was nice that she had sent those even when they weren't on the best of terms at the moment, but Ron still felt empty without her around. He had sent her something of course, a box of sweets, the exact kind that she liked. It was all he could give her.

There were not many more people to send things to, especially since he wasn't supposed to know the Order yet or even most of his classmates at that age. Still, he gave a chocolate frog to Neville.

What really surprised him was getting a different and completely unexpected Chocolate Frog. From Alice Tolipan.

It made Ron wonder. He had helped her in that one class, but he hadn't thought he had left any lasting impression. He knew small things had changed some other stuff already, but this shouldn't be too big of a problem. Ron would thank her for it and keep that relationship distant to avoid another change to the timeline.

That's if there's still a timeline to save.

Ron shook the thought away. He had been having more serious thoughts lately on what his plan would be if the timeline changed, but he wouldn't bugger himself with them for now. Not on Christmas.

Either way, he didn't get a chance to muse over it any longer, as Harry soon opened his Weasley sweater next to him and Ron couldn't suppress his smile.

"She makes them every year," Ron explained, unwrapping his own. He put it on without a single complaint.

"That's really nice of her."

A shrug was Ron's answer as he turned to Harry's next package. He took a deep breath, knowing what was coming. He needed to act surprised.

"Wicked! You know what that is don't you?!" he said smiling widely when the translucent cloth hit the floor, "Those are pretty valuable, and useful too."

"What is it?" said Harry as he picked up the shining, silvery cloth off the floor.

"It's an invisibility cloak," answered Ron, a look of awe on his face. "Hurry — give it a try."

Harry spun around a few times looking like a floating head before the note fell. He read it and Ron almost imagined the voice of the headmaster speaking. Ron wondered if he had changed decisions this time. If there was no Mirror of Erised Ron would surely be lost on what to do next.

"Merry Christmas!" the twins said when they joined them some time later, sporting green Weasley sweaters.

"Hey, Harry's got one of these as well!" Fred said.

Placing himself on the other side of Harry, George shook his head, "I'm afraid to tell you, you're one of us now."

Scenes with the twins like these were all around Ron's memories. He had to contain himself to look normal when he remembered the first Christmas that they had spent without Fred.

It's always like that. You never see the magic in little moments until they're bloody gone.

All things considered, Ron had a wonderful day. Dinner was brilliant; he hadn't enjoyed a meal that much since he'd returned to Hogwarts. McGonagall came to wish them a Merry Christmas, and Hagrid was laughing boisterously whenever they saw him. Professor Dumbledore was cheerful just the same, though Ron couldn't stop wondering if he had put the mirror in its place already.

They had a marvellous afternoon and Ron was even happy to have Percy with them. For brief moments, it was his old brother back in his time and not the pompous prefect he had been seeing for a few months now. Ron wished that he could give Percy a few pieces of advice and stop him from leaving them in fifth year entirely, but he knew he couldn't do that while he still harboured hope of returning to his time.

Ron sighed, it had been months now, and he was as close to finding out how to return as he had been the first day. It could be argued that some of his errors might be unfixable too. The investigation had been useless so far. The only thing he found in the library was the name of the wizard whose bust had saved him and Penelope Padgett that day in the Atrium — Dugald McPhail was a name that he was going to keep in mind. Even so, the truth was that Ron missed his life more than ever and not a single day passed in which he didn't regret leaving Hermione for that stupid night shift.

"You always come back", Hermione had said once. Ron hoped with all of his heart that it was true.

I'm trying Hermione, I really am. I'm just not sure what to do anymore.

That young Auror, Parker, came to mind as well. Ron would have liked to send something to him for Christmas, but it was pointless. Parker was only a little kid now and he wouldn't even know him. Staring at the castle towers which were beautifully coated in white snow, Ron felt broken. No one remembered him as he wanted them to.

At that instant Ron was knocked to the floor and soon realized that a good-sized snowball had hit him from the back. "What in a— !?"

He shook his head hastily, sweeping all the white away from his face. As he stood up, he heard loud laughs.

"Why the long face little Ronnie?" said a giggling Fred, playing with his next projectile with his other hand.

"Surely he is thinking about that girl, the know-it-all," added George.

Ron's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped a bit, "What?!"

"Oh come on! You follow her every time we have practice."

Nearby, Harry was looking at him, confused.

"It's not like that! She's just my friend. I started going to the library to do homework, and she was always there, and… Knock it off, you prats!" Ron shouted, blushing.

He didn't know that he had been spotted so often and really didn't need them saying things like that in his first year. However, he didn't want to say anything bad about being friends with Hermione either. Harry needed to start considering her as friend material.

Ron turned to Harry, "She is nice once you get to know her, honestly. I've told you, she's very—"

"Lovely?"

"Beautiful?"

"Yes... No! I mean, it's not like she... She's just a friend," Ron blurted, fuming at the twins for the first time since he returned. It was bound to happen eventually.

"Whatever you say Ronnie, whatever you say," said George.

"If you ask me, I thought he would have let go of that rubbish with the library by now. I didn't want another Percy in the family but—" Percy was already frowning but he didn't get to say anything because before Fred finished his sentence he was interrupted by a chunk of cold snow hitting him directly on the F of his sweater. "Oy!"

"Shut up already!" Ron said, grinning as he grabbed more snow from the school grounds, preparing for the counter-attack that was surely coming.

"Oh you don't know what you just got yourself into," said Fred turning to his side, "Are we ready?"

"We were born ready. Shame that we don't have our Quidditch bats now, they would've come in handy for blocking," answered George.

"Ronnie is not much of a Chaser anyway, that was just a lucky hit."

The whole snow war erupted as the twins started chasing them and firing one snowball after the other. Ron and Harry were laughing and trying to find some shelter as they fired back, but they were getting the worst of it. At one point, Percy got hit too and even when he started saying things about being immature, he joined the fight after a few more hits. Not as actively as the rest of them though.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Ron said, pulling out his wand and pointing it towards a snowman at Fred's left. Before George noticed, Fred was knocked to the chilly ground by the white figure.

After the surprise, the twins pulled out their wands too, and things got more complicated for Harry and Ron. Fortunately, Percy appeared to be on their side.

Ron had missed laughing like that. The afternoon seemed endless, and for a brief instant, he left all of his worries behind. Unexpectedly and for the first time since he arrived in the past, Ron felt like an eleven year old boy again.

o0o0o

The day was perfect, but soon they had to return to the castle. Back in his bed, Ron tried to pretend to be asleep, but he did see Harry leaving the room from the corner of his eye. Ron was so tired that he fell asleep right away. He woke a few hours later, feeling as if he had forgotten something. Once he saw Harry back in his bed though, he fell back to the pillow more relaxed.

"You could have woken me up," said Ron the next day.

"I'm going back tonight you should come too. I want to show you the mirror."

"Sure thing."

Ron was nervous about going to the mirror. He didn't know what he was going to find, and knowing Dumbledore hadn't changed plans with the mirror didn't ease him completely.

"I'll show you my family and I'll see yours. All of the Weasleys."

Ron smiled sadly at his friend. "You can see mine whenever you like. You totally need to come to my house this summer."

That night Ron and Harry went under the cloak and followed the same path. Harry appeared to be desperate, and Ron felt more uneasy about it than last time. Harry needed to let his parents go but it wasn't the time to say it. Ron knew that after the trip he would try to stop Harry from returning to the mirror, however, the one who should convince him needed to be Dumbledore.

The headmaster was going to be watching them tonight as well. Ron hoped he wouldn't notice anything weird about him. This was going to be the first time since he returned that the headmaster was going to be that close to him.

Ron thought of the other mirror, the one that had sent him back. For months, he had tried to find something that could explain it but he had nothing so far. He still felt like there was an important part he was forgetting, but couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was. Maybe it had stuff in common with the Mirror of Erised, magical mirrors must be cousins or something.

The stone came to Ron's mind suddenly, and how it hadn't appeared until its trigger happened.

But... it had been there, inside the bloody mirror all along.

Maybe that was it. Dumbledore could have opened the mirror to let the stone in and out. The process could have been similar to what the American did with the time-travelling one. What if it was even the same spell? What would that mean to Ron's investigation? What if Ron found a prototype of the time-travelling mirror and he tried to—

"It's here— I know it!" Harry's words interrupted Ron's enthusiastic thoughts.

Blasted luck. So much time wasted all by himself in the library and Ron happened to have a breakthrough just when he couldn't think it through?

Harry went on, unperturbed by Ron's unsettled mood.

"It has to be here, it's just that— yes!"

Harry pushed the door open and dropped the cloak from around his shoulders, running to the mirror. After staring at the mirror from the door as if it was an illusion from another world, Ron walked forward with hesitation.

"See?" Harry whispered, hope visible in his eyes.

It dawned on Ron that he shouldn't really be here. He was an intruder. This was Harry's private moment. His deepest desire.

Ron took a deep breath, making a huge effort to not turn to the corner where the headmaster surely was. The empty room gave a faint echo to each one of his footsteps, and he felt transported back to the Ministry's Atrium, with Harry waiting for him in front of those huge black curtains. This was the young Harry's Black Memorial.

"I—I can't see anything, mate," Ron said, shifting on his feet, wondering how long he would have to endure this scene.

"Look! Look closer— There are loads of them."

"I can only see you."

"You're not doing it right. Go on, try again."

"I just don't see them, Harry. Maybe it only works for you?"

Harry shook his head, "No, it can't. Wait— I know. Stand where I am."

The boy stepped aside, and Ron gulped.

It'll be over soon. I just have to look and say the same things as before.

However, Ron's plan crumbled in a second, as he was left speechless by the reflection.

Ron didn't see the same reflection as last time, he didn't even see himself in there, at least not his eleven year old self. In the mirror, the image of the grown up Ron was smiling at him. Ron wanted to go back to his own time, he already knew that. That was his deepest desire.

It didn't end there though. A grown up Hermione appeared next to his older reflection, cheerfully taking his reflection's hand. Ron felt the ghost twitch on his own hand at the sight.

Before he had time to process all of that, his parents and the rest of the Weasleys were there, even the kids and an older Fred. There was an older Harry there as well, beaming next to Ginny. When Ron noticed a young toddler with round glasses holding Ginny's hand his jaw dropped.

Bloody hell! Ginny had been pregnant.

Ron shook his head. Was this his memories pulling a trick on him? Or was there a larger force at play here?

Carefully, he turned to his future nephew, trying to decipher his features. However, his eyes couldn't stay there for long since it was then that he noticed the bundle of blankets in Hermione's arms. Ron's heart started racing as he saw red hair coming out of a little fold in the fabric.

"Can you see all your family?"

Ron couldn't answer, he was dumbfounded. He wasn't expecting that. This was unfair. This wasn't the mirror he needed. Why did he have to deal with this now?

"Ron!"

It took him a few seconds to find his voice.

"N—No," Ron lied mutely.

Moving around a bit, Ron tried to see inside the bundle of blankets that was resting in Hermione's arms. No matter how much effort he put into it though, he just couldn't and kept failing. Ron's fingertips brushed lightly against the mirror's surface as his reflection smiled at him. The older Ron now had an arm around Hermione. He was happy, looking tenderly down in Hermione's arms.

Why did the fucking mirror have to show him that? As if he needed more reasons to feel bad, to regret leaving his life.

"No? But it was supposed— What do you see then?" Harry asked. The boy was confused and trying to peek at the mirror. He didn't know that he wouldn't be able to see anything. This was not his heart's desire after all. This was Ron's.

Ron didn't answer. He just kept looking for a better angle to glance at the mirror, hoping to see something that deep down he knew would not be possible. In spite of that, he persisted. He needed to know, even if it was only a bit. Was it a girl or boy? What was his or her name?

"Ron! What is it?" Harry raised his voice, a bit desperate now.

Ron was startled and then turned to Harry as if he couldn't understand what his friend was saying, his eyes pleading for some time alone. Couldn't his friend give him a ruddy break? Only a little while longer...

Looking away from the mirror, even if briefly, brought some sense to Ron though. He wanted to turn back to the mirror but he realized that it wasn't right. Slowly, he started to remember the room around him; slowly he became aware of the invisible presence of the headmaster at his back. In front of Ron the people in the reflection kept moving, now he could see Angelina and George's kid as well as a few others.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes," Ron answered in a defeated tone.

"What did you see?" Harry asked, throwing a side glance at the mirror, "Was it your family?"

"No, I—I-..."

Ron was lost and felt his heart beating against his chest. He knew what he had to say, but it was so fucking difficult. It even felt stupid and completely meaningless now. How could he lie like that? How could he smile and fake excitement about those useless things when he just saw what he had lost?

"Ron?" Harry asked worriedly.

It was a small miracle that Ron's voice didn't break then, "I—I was head boy," he said finally. With great difficulty he forced a smile over the knot in his throat. He pretended. "I have a badge... and I am Q—Quidditch captain! We won the cup Harry! We won!"

Ron had never imagined that he would feel so empty saying that, spiritless, looking happy but feeling void on the inside.

"Oh," Harry answered in disappointment.

Daring another careful look, Ron's eyes found the mirror again. He saw Hermione and the Weasleys still there, just as before. For the first time he truly understood what Harry had felt with the mirror. He knew what the eleven year old Harry was feeling now.

"Do you think this is the future?" Ron asked without taking his eyes off of the mirror.

His question lingered. He hadn't really been expecting a reply, he had asked that to himself mostly. Harry answered just the same though.

"How can it be? My family is dead, all of them. Let me have another look—"

Ron jumped for a moment at the suggestion, he didn't want to. He wanted to fight Harry over the mirror if needed. However, a sound from the corridor came then and they bolted back to their dorms.

Hours later, still looking at the ceiling of the four post bed, Ron imagined that it had been Dumbledore who made the sound that sent them running away.

The next day Harry would return to the mirror. Ron would have to try to stop him of course but he found it incredibly difficult, especially since he was considering sneaking there himself. It was stupid, he knew, but it was just too much. Ron had lost everything only to start all over again, and even now he was making mistakes that could cause him not to have that future at all. He wandered around the dormitory and many times he had to force himself back to bed. He wanted to go back to that mirror even without Harry or his cloak.

It wouldn't hurt, would it? Just once. Just a peek… Maybe this time I'll be able to see the face under that bundle of blankets… If I just had a face I could leave this for good and move on. I would— I...

Oh, to hell with it!

After apparently making up his mind, Ron jolted down to the common room and was about to cross the fat lady's portrait when something pulled him to walk to the couch near the fireplace at the last moment. He had sat on that couch for years with Harry and Hermione and now he was alone, staring at the playful fire crackling before him. He let his head fall heavily on his hands as his fingers dived into his hair.

This was bonkers. How could this mirror have so much control over him? Still, it had. At that moment everything else seemed unimportant, the stone didn't even matter at all. It felt almost like a petty detail if Quirrell found it now.

Quirrell.

In a sudden movement, Ron raised his eyes up from his hands and back to the fire. He remembered Quirrell and the fact that he was a threat to Hermione. The real Hermione, not a reflection. If Ron lost his time in that mirror, then who would keep Quirrell away from her?

"It does us no good to cling to what we have lost at the expense of what we still have," Ron's father had said to all his children on that first Christmas without Fred.

Ron supposed his dad was right.

Silently, he stood up and — after one last glance at the portrait hole — he went back to the dormitories. Harry was thrashing in his sleep, thinking about his parents for sure. In some ways, Ron related to his friend now more than ever. Ron pulled the bed covers all the way up to the boy's shoulders before heading to his own bed. And he stayed there. Even the next night, when he heard Harry sneaking out of the room again, Ron stayed there. His face was buried in his pillow, trying not to hear his friend's footsteps for fear of choosing to follow them at the last moment, and yet he stayed.