It is the day after Dumbledore's funeral. Miranda stands on the balcony, arms resting on the railing, letting the breeze ruffle her hair. Mateo stands beside her. Her gaze is ahead, on the distant mountain range. The day is clear, the crystal blue of the lake shimmering up at them. The sun glares down at her, bright and happy, almost taunting her. Miranda shields her eye from it, silent. Everything is quieter these days. Sometimes, Miranda wonders if the quiet will ever stop.

After the fight, Severus had contacted them, further detailing what they already knew. The twins would be staying at his house until further notice, they may be required to go undercover, and of course, they couldn't tell anyone anything. Miranda was going to have to act as if Harry meant nothing to her, when really he was everything to her. It was too risky for them to stay together, they both had massive targets on their backs, and Miranda knew too much. Harry had to die and it would only make it harder if he thought he was leaving Miranda behind. She can't explain to him why she's staying with Snape, or tell him why she would be hanging around Death Eaters. She can't tell him anything. Their time was up. The grim countdown that had loomed since the very beginning of their relationship finally dwindling down to an end.

They were doomed from the start, Miranda often thinks to herself, somewhat bitterly. Cursed as infants, destined for death. Neither can live while the other survives. The same was true for her and Harry.

"You ready?" asks Mateo softly, eyes trained on the horizon. She wasn't the only one leaving someone behind. Miranda was glad Ginny was tough, resilient. Mateo could explain more to her. Not that it made this situation any better.

"No," she murmurs, exhaling.

Mateo lets out a tired, resigned puff of air, nudging her with his shoulder, "You'll be alright."

"No," Miranda repeats with a subdued sigh, smiling tightly. "I won't. But that doesn't matter." Not much did. Not anymore. It's funny. She always thought Harry would be the one breaking things off with her for some stupid, noble reason. To think, she accused him of having a savior complex. It was her turn to be the hero. Harry certainly deserved one.

Mateo hugs her briefly and goes to find Ginny as Harry approaches Miranda.

"Hi there," Harry drops a kiss on the crown of her head, and Miranda feels her heart begin to crack.

"Hello, Harry," she says, swallowing hard. She will be strong. She is strong.

"I've missed you, Mandy," Harry flashes a sweet smile at her, thumbing the side of her cheek.

"Hm," she hums, mustering what she hopes is a loving expression that matches his own. Her heart continues to splinter and she sucks in a deep, breath, steeling herself.

He's nervous. Miranda isn't sure why. But she can tell all the same. He's fidgeting, babbling a little. More awkward than usual. It reminds her of fourth and fifth year Harry. Who turned red and fumbled when she made eye contact with him or when she embraced him out of the blue. The one who would say something with a grin that made her blush and then blushed himself out of the sheer surprise he'd gotten the courage to say such a thing. She misses it. Misses the before. Misses when the most pressing thing on her mind was her growing jealousy of Cho Chang. The memory of the dorky fifteen year old boy who had a crush on her makes what she's about to do even more insurmountable.

"So—I actually wanted to talk to you about something," Harry mumbles self consciously. Miranda turns from him, working up to the task at hand. She's barely listening. She can't look at him. Won't face him. "And I know you said you had something to tell me too, but I'm going to go first." Harry continues without taking a breath, "I'm not coming back to Hogwarts this year. Neither are Ron or Hermione. I—we have a mission from Dumbledore and I want you to come with me. The four of us. I love you and I don't want to spend a second away from you, and I know we're young but—" Harry pulls out the infamous ring and gets down on one knee, "Miranda—"

Miranda doesn't turn around, doesn't see the ring, doesn't see Harry kneeling on the ground. She doesn't see any of it. A dull ache spreads through her body, head pounding like a drum. She shuts her eyes, inhaling, "Harry, I'm not coming with you." Her words are rushed, blunt. She just has to get through it as fast as possible. She needs it to be over. To be done.

Harry rises to his feet immediately, shoving the ring deep within his pockets. This was not the answer he'd been hoping for. He silent curses himself. He knew he shouldn't have layed it all on her like that. Now he'd gone and scared her off.  "Is it the leaving Hogwarts part?" he starts anxiously. "Because—"

"No," Miranda heads him off hurriedly. Her mouth has gone dry as a desert. "I'm not going back to Hogwarts either."

Harry's forehead wrinkles, "Well, then why—?"

"I can't—" Miranda feels her lip begin to tremble and pinches her mouth into a steadfast line, gritting her teeth. Her stomach churns. "Harry, we're not—" she clenched and unclenches her fists, digging her fingernails into the palm of her hand so ferociously she draws blood. The pain gives her something else to focus on.  "I'm not— we can't be together anymore."

He blinks at her for several seconds, uncomprehending. The crushing silence between them is agonizing, and to Miranda it seems like it lasts for eternity. "We—what?" says Harry finally, a strange expression on his face. Almost like he doesn't know whether he should smile— like it might be some joke he's just not understanding. Miranda wishes it was a joke.

Keep going, she wills herself. You have to keep going. "This," Miranda gestures between them, brisk, unemotional. Her chest is constricting by the second. "It shouldn't—we never should've—" Her hands shake, and she does her best to steady them. She can't make herself look at him. "It doesn't work. We— we aren't supposed to be together."

"Is this- are you—" Harry is unable to form a coherent sentence. He doesn't understand. Why is she doing this? What happened? Everything was fine— he thought it was fine. They were in love. She was his life. His reason for being. Harry's heartbeat thudded in his ears. She wouldn't meet his eyes. "—breaking up with me?" Harry shake this head back and forth, reaching out for her, "What the hell are you talking about, Mandy? I love you—"

She knows his declaration is not meant to injure her but it does all the same, a knife to her abdomen, twisting in and out of her gut. Miranda bites her lip. "No you don't. You—you don't even know me," she manages thinly. "I'm just some girl that—" Miranda is struggling not to crumble to bits. She feels like she can't get enough air in her lungs. Her breathing is shallow.

"Some girl?" Harry bursts out in utter incredulity, cutting her off. "Of course I know you," he insists, distress plain. His tone is thick with emotion, eyes boring with such intensity into Miranda that she feels like a hot poker is splitting her in two. "When you're frustrated you blow your hair up away from your face. When you're angry you do this adorable thing where you flare your nostrils. You hate when people compliment you because it makes you feel self conscious. Right before you fall asleep you make a little sigh. You love dancing but won't admit it. The freckles on your upper right shoulder are in the shape of a moon. I—," he stops to take a breath, gazing at her so tenderly that Miranda is physically nauseous. She wants to vomit. Sickened by her own actions. She hates herself for this. She hates what she's doing to him. "There's so much more I could say, but all that matters is that I love it all. Everything about you. I love you and you love me and—"

It's like she'd drowning. It's like she's falling down a bottomless, dark pit with no end in sight. It's like she is hovering a finger over a detonator, trigger ready. "What if I don't?" Miranda interrupts stiffly.   It is taking everything in her not to choke, to cry, to take it all back. To kiss him and let him love her and forget about everything else. It is too late.

"Love me?" Harry's voice breaks. An awful, heart wrenching crack. Pure, unadulterated anguish is written all over his features. He steps toward her, and Miranda backs away. "You love me. I— I know you do. You can't just—"

"It's better this way."

Harry grabs her waist before she can slip away, pulling her face to face with him. Her entire body reacts to his touch, involuntarily. No. She can't. She can't. "Don't do this Miranda," he begs, tortured. "I need you. We—"

"I can't, Harry," she murmurs. Her lip quivers, and she doesn't know what to do to hide it anymore. She can'y let him see her hurt. "I can't— just please let me go. Let me say goodbye." Miranda wrenches from Harry, and as soon as her back is turned she begins sobbing, crying hysterically. His heartbroken face replays in her mind over and over. Her heart feels like it's been smashed into a million pieces. She collapses on the steps where she's supposed to meet Matt, clutching her stomach as she keels over in loss. Bile rises in the back of her mouth, and she gags. Everything hurts.

She is crying so hard that she begins to hyperventilate, shuddering with sobs. Her shoulder heave, and she grasps at her throat. This is the state in which Mateo finds her, rivulets of tears streaming down her face, splashing puddles on the stone below.

"Oh, Miranda—" Mateo just holds her, stroking her hair and wiping her tears as best he can. It is useless. Hopeless.

Bits of shrapnel have embedded in her heart, debris and dust coating her soul. The explosion had not spared anything in its wake. The damage is done, irreparable and scarring.

The bomb has finally dropped.

sorry....

xxx

coco