"I am so bored, so, so bored," Ron whined as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

"I spy with my wizard eye, something beginning wiiiiith.." Harry quipped from his right, rolling his wand between his thumb and index finger, eyes fixed on the colossal dark building in the distance.

"Oh, shut up, Harry," Ron huffed and stretched his legs, then quickly tucked them back under the large blanket he and Harry were sharing. The image of Hermione's warm skin under his palms suddenly flooded his mind and he had to clear his throat to cover up the groan escaping his mouth.

"Fine," Harry replied exasperated, "I'll tell Hermione you died of boredom. It will be the perfect cover-up for your murder."

"I might actually take you up on that offer," Ron scoffed, "I am literally so - "

"Oh, come off it!" Harry said and punched him in the shoulder.

"Oi! It actually hurts more in the cold, you arse!" Ron hissed, rubbing the spot Harry hit, and they both chuckled.

"Hey, Ron…" Harry said after a moment, and Ron immediately noticed the slight change of tone.

"Mmm?"

"Earlier when I said that I tell Hermione everything that I tell you…"

"Yeah?"

"She… She doesn't know about the -"

"Have you told her?"

"No."

"Well, there's your answer."

Harry shifted under the blanket and Ron could tell that he felt uncomfortable.

"Listen, mate, I share my life with her, but when you say 'keep it between us', I do, ok?"

"What would I do without you," Harry said, attempting to lighten the mood, rubbing his faded scar as he always did when he was anxious.

"Nah, man, I got four brothers - you'd replace me in a heartbeat," Ron quipped, throwing an arm around Harry's shoulder.

They both laughed and then sat in amicable silence as they continued their watch.

It was the second night of their stakeout mission in Scotland. The Auror department had been following smugglers since the end of the war. This particular mission had Harry and Ron covering the night shift out of courtesy to Neville and Kenneth who were both new dads.

The group of smugglers that they were following were supposedly meeting in the decrepit castle before them. However, like the day shift – they had nothing to report. Their source did not know the exact transaction date, but it was going to happen between the 21st and 27th of January. The items they were smuggling into Scotland were heirlooms of old wizarding families - diehard Voldemort supporters, and since the war ended, the Auror department tried to confiscate as many dark objects in circulation as possible.

Many of the families tried to get rid of them on the black market, others had ulterior motives. There had been several murder cases over the past five years involving dark objects, one particularly heart-wrenching just fourteen months ago, and the trio worked hard to rid the wizarding world of all such foul trinkets.

Apparently, this place was a shipping point. Rumors circulated that there was a powerful vanishing cabinet or some magically enhanced apparition point linked to someplace in the Balkans. However, the only reason they could not search it was the shady nature of the ownership papers. Their legal division, which included Hermione, had a hard time tracking down the owner or owners of the castle and storming it without proper documents could lead to a mistrial even if they caught the smuggling bastards red-handed. Hermione had updated the workings of the Auror department since the three of them started their careers there, but sometimes they were just obstructing, at least in Harry and Ron's minds. Not that they would ever admit it to Hermione, of course.

"You know, we are a twenty-minute flight away from Hogwarts. We could go say hi to Hagrid after our shift before we apparate back to yours," Harry said as he pulled the blanket imbued with a warming charm more tightly over his arms. It was a bitterly cold night but they could not light a fire.

"Sounds fun," Ron yawned and scooched closer to Harry, "it's so effing freezing, I can't feel my face. Those asshats better get moving, I am not in the mood for another night of this."

"Your complaining is giving me flashbacks," Harry grunted.

"Your mood is giving me flashbacks, too," Ron smirked as he elbowed Harry, "come on, your broodiness, let's do a quick perimeter check to warm up a bit."

Harry sighed in compliance and they both got up to their feet. Ron fastened his wand and potion holster under his left arm and looked at Harry pointedly.

"You forgetting something?"

Harry rolled his eyes, "It's just a perimeter check, mate."

Ron ignored him, "Put on your vest and holster."

"Never thought you'd be a stickler for rules," Harry muttered and reached for his gear behind him in the tent. Living with Hermione changed Ron more than he cared to admit.

"Your cloak too," Ron added as he fastened the leather straps of his own navy-blue Auror cloak across his chest.

"Yes, dad," Harry replied and Ron just shook his head. It had become a running gag between the four of them ever since a very drunk Ginny explained her whole Golden Trio dynamics theory one memorable night at the Three Broomsticks. There was a lot of hand waving, and at one point she even managed to conjure some sort of flow chart that made her look like one of those conspiracy theorists. Harry couldn't remember if he had ever laughed so hard in his entire life.

They had so much fun that night…When they were still dating… Before Harry mucked it up.

A running gag between the three of them.

He hadn't seen Ginny for quite some time now. She had emptied her overnight drawer at Harry's flat and left, but she didn't take everything. Harry didn't know if that was a good or bad thing - some days he'd stare at the fire-red strands tangled in the abandoned hairbrush in the bathroom cabinet and those nights he'd dream of her smiling face under his covers. On other days he wanted to throw it into the fireplace so it wouldn't torture him with its presence any longer. He'd have to do it eventually. He couldn't give her what she wanted.

Harry sighed and shook his head dismissively, his mind should not wander to her now.

He fastened his cloak and turned to Ron, spreading his arms like a proud little toddler. Ron gave him a sarcastic thumbs up, and several minutes later, they were descending the hilltop of their stakeout tent, walking the trail to the castle. They already knew it by heart and could skip every bulging tree root and protruding rock on their path with their eyes closed if needed. The pale moonlight and flickering lights of the nearby village were the only light source they could rely on, even though they could easily do without.

"So, you take the left, I'll take the right, -"

Harry didn't finish his sentence as Ron pulled him to the ground by the shoulders. He looked at his best friend who was silently pointing at one particular spot on the castle.

"Over there, just a brief flash of yellow," Ron whispered and they crouched behind a tree, their gazes fixed on the castle.

A bright flash of red.

"Shit. How did they get in? None of our alarm spells went off," Harry grunted.

"We both know there are other ways to get inside castles like this, mate. There is clearly at least one functional secret passage. I'll call for backup," Ron replied.

"No time, we need to get in there." Harry urged.

"Harry, we don't know how many - "

"They're smugglers, not Death Eaters for fuck's sake, we can take them!" Harry cut him off and Ron could clearly hear the excitement in his voice. "Do you want this mission over and done with or not?"

"Fine, I'll follow your lead," Ron replied and secretly signaled Neville by tapping his wand on the improved D.A. coin on his leather bracelet. The three of them got the bracelets from Hermione when they graduated from Auror Academy. It was a smart and easy, albeit secretive way for them to communicate. It had come in handy on more than several occasions.

There were more red and yellow flashes and the boys hurried toward the broken window they assessed to be the easiest entrance point when they initially scouted the area.

"One of the front rooms on the first floor, I reckon," Harry whispered as he shifted his legs over the stone window ledge. Ron nodded and quickly followed him through the window. Wands at the ready, Harry and Ron moved along the moldy stone wall of the desolate kitchen. Harry waved his wand at the door and it started opening slowly as they approached it. As soon as the door was completely open, they could clearly hear angry shouting in foreign languages and curses shattering walls and ceiling beams.

"My guess is four to six assholes," Ron estimated.

"Just another Monday, mate," Harry grinned and they ran across the narrow servant corridor to face the commotion.

When they reached the staircase, everything went quiet and Harry peeked around the corner, and then waved Ron over. The two young Aurors began walking up the stairs, leaning over the railing, and looking up. An eerie silence fell upon the castle, something they found quite unsettling since there was a full-on duel only moments ago. Harry was about to take the last step before he reached the upper floor when Ron felt a shiver travel down his spine. His reaction was instantaneous – he pulled Harry back by his cloak hood and pushed him against the wall, casting a protection spell over them both, when the ceiling in the corridor Harry almost stepped in collapsed.

The boys coughed and quickly pulled their neck gaiters over their mouths and noses.

"You ok?" Ron asked in a muffled voice.

"Yeah, you?"

Ron nodded in reply.

"Quidditch reflexes," Harry wiggled his eyebrows, "Now, let's move before this whole thing comes tumbling down."

The dust was already settling when Ron peered around the corner. "I think everybody is either hurt, dead, or gone by now."

"Right… Ok, you clear the left-hand rooms and I'll clear the right-hand ones. Shout if you find anything."

"Right. Be careful and see you soon."

"You too."

Ron watched Harry move several large stone blocks against the wall and disappear into the rubble. He did the same on his end of the corridor, steadied his breathing, and walked toward the first door on his left. He grabbed the doorknob and was about to cast a 'homenum revelio', when the sound of dropping fabric made him turn to the far end of the corridor. The door there was wide open, something Ron didn't notice before. However, it was dark; he might not have seen it with all the dust in the air.

Ron flicked his wand, finally casting the human-presence-revealing spell, and quickly discovered that there were no people on his end. However, that did not mean he was in the clear because for all he knew those smugglers might have kept dangerous beasts around.

Ron took a few steps forward when something cracked under his feet and he dared a faint 'lumos'. It was a shattered fiend-glass and he looked around only to discover several magical objects scattered on the floor. Careful not to touch any of it, Ron lowered his wand and noticed a small pool of dark red close to his feet, along with drag marks leading to the open door. He walked to the room cautiously, taking in a sharp breath, expecting to find a dead body inside.

Ron raised his wand upon entering when a flash of bright light startled him.

"Don't move!" He yelled, and then jumped back, hitting the doorframe. "Merlin's fucking pants on fire," he breathed and chuckled. "It's a bloody mirror."

The mirror leaned against the wall at an odd angle, the cloth with which it was covered at its foot as if it was abandoned in haste. It was as big as an average person was, with a delicately carved wooden frame. Ron remained at a safe distance, lifting his wand for further inspection. The drag marks and trail of blood stopped abruptly in front of the mirror, but Ron didn't notice it immediately because his attention quickly shifted from the frame to his reflection.

"Ron! Hey, Ron! Come here! I've found the secret passage! Of course, it's a bloody portrait!" Harry's voice echoed behind him, but Ron was far too focused on the mirror.

"Be right there!" He answered absentmindedly, his gaze fixed upon his twin.

"This is all wrong. What the bloody - … My hair isn't that short and… dark?" He said aloud, reaching for his long hair that almost fell to his shoulders, checking if it was still there. His reflection had terse dark hair and also… a scar? There was a long ugly-looking line on his right eyebrow, going down all the way over his eyelid and cheek, which Ron noticed was very pale and to his surprise - freckle-free. It was as if someone took his image and erased all the characteristic features off his face, then drew new traits over it. It was a distorted version of him and Ron felt the hairs on his neck stand up as anxiety took hold of him.

Even the robes he was wearing were warped - no navy, but black and green. And what was going on with his eye? Ron furrowed his brows and so did his reflection, but that was about the only thing they had in common as far as Ron was concerned.

"What the hell is this?"

Ron reached for the mirror and knew that he had made a mistake as soon as his fingers grazed the reflective surface. There was no solid surface, there was no mirror, his fingertips grazed somebody else's, then there was a strong pull, and everything went black.