AN: Hello, hello, all you lovely people! I took a bit of a break for a vacation and NaNoWriMo, but now I am back to finish this story. I would say there's 2-3 chapters left from what I have planned out. Then it's time to start the sequel. I also have an idea planned out for a AU story, but I need to work on that one a bit more before I start writing! Please follow my profile if you haven't already for my upcoming stories (:
-xo!

Hermione's POV:

Another Saturday morning in the library. It was getting to the point where she should just sleep there, Hermione thought to herself, rolling her eyes. She grabbed a book off the shelf – Advanced Defense Against the Dark Arts. Finding a quiet spot in the back of the library and flicked through the pages numbly, not really taking in the words on the pages. Groaning, Hermione slammed the book shut, a bit harder than she had meant to and the sound was met with resounding hushes.

Rolling her eyes for the second time, Hermione stood up from her lonely spot and tossed the book onto the cart to be re-shelved.

She walked out of the library, through the halls and out into the courtyard. She felt the warm, springtime sun on her face. Her eyes closed as she drew in a deep breath. If she tried hard enough, she could almost pretend she was on a camping trip with her parents, or at the Burrow during their summer break, watching Harry and the Weasleys play Quidditch. It was so much simpler then. She would give anything to go back to that, to get rid of all the pain they had all suffered during the last year.

The anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts had come and gone a few weeks prior. Hermione couldn't bring herself to face the crowd of people at the memorial ceremony that was held. She'd hid away, like a scared little girl, scared of facing that pain all over again.

Her hands clenched into fists at the thought of it as she stood there with the sun's warmth flooding over her. Opening her eyes, she jumped back as she saw someone standing in front of her.

"Bloody hell, Ron," Hermione said, her hand raising up to her chest. "Why don't you frighten me to death next time?" she huffed as she pushed past him. She could sense that he had turned and was now following her.

"I'm sorry," he muttered from just behind her. "I actually wanted to ask you something." She heard him take a few quick steps until he was walking next to her.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, to avoid Ron seeing her roll them. The irritation bubbled up inside of her. Why couldn't everyone just leave her alone like she had asked? Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she looked over at him. "What is it?" she asked, pushing the annoyance back down.

"I was wondering," Ron asked, as he appeared to struggle with his words. "What kind of enchanted mirrors are there?" His blue eyes were swimming with curiosity and hopefulness.

"Well," Hermione said, thinking. Truth be told, she was happy for the distraction. She had all the material for their NEWTs memorized and she was bored with the books in the library. "There's the Mirror of Erised. But, there's other types of enchanted mirrors as well. You already know about talking mirrors. There are two-way mirrors, like the one Aberforth had, that belonged to Sirius; scrying mirrors – they're sort of all-seeing; haunted mirrors – self-explanatory." Pausing, Hermione racked her brain. She watched Ron carefully out of the corner of her eye, nodding his head as she spoke. "I read once that the Ministry tried to use enchanted mirrors as a sort of cell for high-security prisoners at Azkaban a few decades ago. The idea was that the dark witches and wizards wouldn't be able to use their magic when trapped inside of it. They were too unreliable though. If the mirror were to break, even just a chip, the witch or wizard would be able to escape."

Hermione stopped walking and Ron had taken a couple of steps before he realized, turning to face her. They had crossed the courtyard, and Hermione looked at Ron with one eyebrow raised.

"Is there a reason you're asking me about this?" Hermione knew enchanted mirrors weren't covered in any of their courses this term. She was curious as to what might have sparked Ron's interest.

"Well," Ron murmured, kicking a few rocks at his feet, avoiding Hermione's eyes. "Actually, nevermind. It probably sounds crazy." Hermione raised her eyebrow, watching his expression carefully. "Thanks for the help though. I'll catch you later." Watching as his fiery hair rushed down the corridor and around the corner, Hermione's brow pulled together. What in the world was he up to? A sigh escaped her as she continued walking toward the seventh floor.

She had initially planned on going to the common room, but she wasn't sure she could face all of her friends. It was still early in the morning and she was sure the common room would be buzzing with the rest of the Gryffindor students. Instead, she allowed her feet to carry her to another familiar place in the seventh-floor corridor. If she were being honest with herself, she had spent more time here in the last months than she cared to admit. She stopped in front of the bare wall, the portrait of Barnabus the Barmy behind her. It was easy to come here when she didn't want to face the rest of the world, when she wanted to be alone, when she wanted to remember him. Her heart hurt as she watched as the heavy, oak door appeared before her. She reminded the first time she had seen this door and her heart stung again.

Hermione entered the room and put her bag on the floor next to the large, leather sofa. Sitting slowly, she pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs, holding them tight to her. She felt the tears burn her eyes as she looked at the fireplace, the scene from that night playing out in her mind. She had never felt a connection that strong before in her life, and just as quickly as it had started, it was gone. The thought of it plagued her every day, constantly trying to figure out what she had done wrong. She was broken once again, and this time, she wasn't sure if she would ever be whole again.

Ron's POV:

Ron almost ran back to the common room. Harry and Ginny weren't there – Quidditch practice, Ron thought, thank god. He wouldn't have to explain taking the Marauder's Map again. Not yet, at least. He wasn't sure Harry would agree to letting him have it if he knew the real reason.

Climbing the stairs to the dormitory, Ron considered what he would actually be looking for on the map. What answers would he get? Whether he did or didn't find Malfoy's name, what did that prove? Perhaps he could track Malfoy down and confront him again? Would that help at all? Ron groaned, his pace slowing as he reached the top of the stairs.

Perhaps the map wouldn't help him after all. Despite his better judgement, Ron pulled the map out, spreading it out across his bed. Speaking the enchantment, Ron watched as the ink spread across the pages of old parchment. Once again, he spotted Pansy's name, but wasn't able to find Malfoy's. It was strange, he had to admit. In person, Malfoy was always with Pansy, stuck to her hip, but now, on the map, he was nowhere to be seen. Of course, that didn't really prove anything, but it stuck with Ron, leaving him even more suspicious of what was really going on.

Ron stayed in the dormitory for hours, following Pansy's name as she went from the Slytherin common room, to the Great Hall, back to the dungeon. Ron's eyes had just started to close, drifting into sleep, when he noticed that she was leaving the Slytherin common room again, but this time, she was going up the staircases. Ron flipped the pages, watching as she continued to ascend, going past the third floor, fourth, fifth... It was Saturday – What did Pansy want in the upper floors of the school? Ron's eyes followed as she walked down the seventh-floor corridor.

Jumping off of his bed, Ron rushed out of the dormitory, down the stairs and through the common room, not stopping to say hello to Neville, Dean, Seamus. He followed the map, only stopping around the corner from where Pansy's name waited. Poking his head around the corner, Ron recognized the area immediately. He'd spent a good portion of his fifth year in this part of the castle with Dumbledore's Army. The Room of Requirement. What the hell did Parkinson want in the Room of Requirement? He watched her carefully, the back of her head, her dark hair toward him. There was a figure standing next to her that Ron recognized as Malfoy. He saw the door appear before her – wooden with wrought-iron filigree. Something about it looked familiar, but he couldn't place it, and if he couldn't figure out what room it was, there was no way he could get in there.

There was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as Ron realized that Pansy had to be up to something if she was sneaking into the Room of Requirement. Before Pansy and Malfoy disappeared beyond the door, Ron glanced back down at the map in his hands. Pansy's name vanished, but her name was the only one standing in that corridor. Malfoy's name was never there. The pit in Ron's stomach worsened as he looked up and saw Malfoy follow Pansy through the doorway.

The rest of the weekend passed slowly. Ron spent most of his time in his dormitory, keeping an eye on Pansy through the Marauder's Map. Before he knew it, it was Monday morning. Another week of classes, preparing for exams. Ron folded the paper carefully, stuffing it into his pocket. He knew Harry wouldn't go looking for it, as he currently had no use for it.

Ron walked to the Great Hall for breakfast with Harry and Ginny. Hermione had gone ahead, Ginny explained, hoping to miss most of the crowd. As they entered the Great Hall, Ron immediately spotted Pansy and Malfoy, sitting with their backs to them. Ron had to resist the urge to take the map out, checking for Malfoy's name, even though he knew it wouldn't be there.

After breakfast, the students all went their separate ways, to their classes. Ron, Harry and Ginny walked together to the third floor, to Defense Against the Dark Arts. Hermione had already taken her seat near the front, an empty chair next to her.

"Mind if I sit?" Ron asked, nodding his head at the empty chair.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders, glancing up at him before turning her attention back to the front of the room. Ron sat, pulling out his textbook just in time for Professor Wayland to enter the room.

"As you all know, NEWTs are creeping up on all of us," she said, turning to clear the blackboard at the front of the room. "For the next few weeks, we'll be reviewing everything we've learned since September." Ron rolled his eyes, stifling a yawn.

Despite his best attempts, Ron couldn't seem to focus for the majority of the hour. He was distracted, still trying to figure out what was wrong with the map. It took all of his self-control not to pull the map back out and check whether or not Malfoy's name would be there. Deep in the pit of his stomach, Ran knew it wouldn't be.

"And what is the spell used to counter Fiendfyre?" Ron heard Professor Wayland ask. He had to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. That would have been handy to know last year, Ron thought.

"Wait," Ron whispered to himself, realization striking him. "Fiendfyre." Hermione turned in her seat to look at him and Professor Wayland's eyes scanned the room to land on him. "Oh, uh... Sorry Professor," Ron said sheepishly, causing the rest of the class to laugh. Hermione, however, kept her eyes on him, one eyebrow raised.

The rest of the day passed even more slowly than the weekend. After their last class of the day, Ron raced up the staircases two at a time, leaving Harry, Ginny and Hermione behind. Nearly out of breath, Ron didn't stop until he reached the seventh-floor corridor. Turning the corner, he spotted the portrait of Barnabus the Barmy and the bare wall opposite it. Ensuring no one else was in the corridor, Ron walked slowly toward the empty wall, remembering exactly where he had seen the heavy, wooden door before.

Just over a year ago, Ron, Harry and Hermione had risked their own lives in this room, both attempting to destroy a horcrux and saving Malfoy's life as the room was swallowed up in fire around them. Remembering that moment, Ron's body shivered as he watched the same wooden door appear in front of him. He hadn't been in this room since that night. What was Pansy hiding in here? With one more deep breath, Ron swung the door open and stepped inside.