"C'mon Mandy let me see," Harry knocks on the bathroom door. Early morning light filters in through the gauzy curtains, and Miranda dares a peek in the reflection of the mirrors again.

She wails helplessly, "No! It's bad, I'll be living in here now, let everyone know."

"It cannot be that bad."

"I should never let drunk Ginny decide things," Miranda groans, head butting the door.

"Just come out, love," Harry wheedles. Miranda can hear the sweet lilt of his voice, and smile sin spite of her anguish. "I promise I won't laugh."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

Miranda carefully and discreetly opens the door of the bathroom,  just a crack. She can see Harry peering at her from his place on the bed, an expression of light amusement on his face. Slowly, she shuffles out, hood over her head.

"Take the hood off please."

When she does, Harry bites his lip, stifling a snicker. He coughs pointedly.

"Harry James Potter you promised you wouldn't laugh!"

"I'm sorry, it's just very— blue." Harry snorts and Miranda begins to hit him. He picks her up and slings her over his shoulder, as she continues to pummel his back with her tiny, inneffectual fists. Harry just laughs, and soon, Miranda cannot help but join in, blue hair hanging in her face as she dangles upside down.

Miranda sighs, "Hermione swears she can turn it back."

"No— no, it's growing on me," smirks Harry, in the sort of way that always makes Miranda want to throttle him and kiss him all at once.

"I hate you."

"I'm serious," he grins, ruffling her hair.

She scowls, "I feel like a blueberry."

Harry chuckles, pulling her back into his chest and dropping a kiss on  the top of her head, "A very attractive blueberry." When she remains frowning, he adds, more seriously, "C'mon Mandy you know I'd love you even if you were horribly scarred and disfigured. Hell, I think I'd love you even if you were a toad." He wags a stern finger at her, "Don't get any ideas, I don't want Gin to turn you into any sort of amphibian next."

Miranda shakes her head vigorously as she snaps back to the present, clearing any and all thoughts of Harry from her mind. This happens far to often for her liking. If she is not actively doing something, occupying herself, it is all too easy to dwell on the past. Moments from sixth year play on an endless loop in her mind. Over and over again, reliving the same memories. It brings her fleeting joy, that quickly dissipates after the dissociation breaks and she is forced back to her harsh reality.

She longs for the days when the most pressing thing on her mind was her growing jealousy of Cho Chang. The days that, while often hard and draining, intermingled with grief and loss, were spent together. All six of them, they had each other. And they laughed, and they cried, and theylived, together.

Her and Mateo are searching feverishly through newspapers. They received word from Evelyn and Sirius that Luna had not returned to Hogwarts after the holiday, and are trying to find any piece of information that might help them locate her.

"How does her disappearance connect to everyone else's?" Mateo unearths an old clipping, talking more to himself than anyone else. "Ollivander, that goblin from Gringotts, the—"

Miranda lolls her head back on the sofa, "Isn't it obvious?" She replies darkly, without an ounce of warmth in her tone, "They all opposed You Know Who in some way and paid the price. They could be dead for all we know. Being eaten by maggots in some mass grave." Her features are stony, and her voice is nondescript. "At best they're rotting in a dungeon, probably being tortured for information."

"Okay," Mateo steers his sister away from the clippings with a firm hand, raising his eyebrows. "You've definitely been doing this too long. We need to get some fresh air. Let's—" The Snatcher siren blares loudly and Miranda raises her eyebrow sourly at Mateo.

Voice dripping with sarcasm, she pulls her short hair into a low bun, gathering her gear, "You wanted fresh air."

Mateo grabs her hand and prepares to Disapparate, "Snatchers and springtime, sounds like a lovely day."

They land in a grove of trees, their surroundings looking slightly familiar. The band of Snatchers is no more than a few feet away, led once again by the infamous werewolf. They are all arguing about something, holding three prisoners roughly, poking and prodding them.

The twins can catch small snippets of the conversation, not attacking yet, instead lying in wait to find out what's going on. They've learned from previous experience that it is better to be patient. The Snatchers have become more prepared for them lately.

"...red hair..."

"...this one looks like the Mudblood girl."

"Should we call the Dark Lord, Fenrir?" A scratchy voice that sends shivers down Miranda's spine. She glances at Mateo. If there is any chance that Voldemort will appear, they are supposed to leave immediately. With their connection, it is too great a risk. Dumbledore had told them it was the most vital rule. Just as they are about to Disapparate, a word stops them dead in their tracks

"Potter."

It feels as if a bucket of ice has been poured over her head.

Did they just say—?

Potter.

You don't think...it could be—

Miranda and Mateo peer closer at the faces of the captives. Although bloody and bruised, they can still make out some features. The dark haired boy looks rather puffy, as if something's wrong with his face, but—

It's him, Matt.

The swollen one?

Yes. That's definitely Ron and Hermione.

Well, what do we do?

I don't know...should we try to attack?

There's like seven of them.

We can't just—

Miranda and Mateo hear something else, perking their ears up.

"Take him to the manor, don't call the Lord yet, we'll put them with the others, perhaps Bellatrix can have her way with the girl."

Where are they taking him? What's the Manor?

The manor, the manor the manor...

Miranda!

Oh my god.

What?

They're taking them to Malfoy Manor, what if the missing people are there too, I know they have a dungeon, Matt what if Luna's there?

Do you know where it is?

I've been there once. It was a really long time ago, but I think we can apparate there. Let's wait for them to leave, apparate and then transfigure like Auntie taught us. Or...

What?

I could always try to ask—

No.

Matt—

No.

He might—

No.

But—

No.

Fine.

Miranda and her brother crouch low until they see every last Snatcher disappear, then twist away themselves, landing front of the massive Malfoy residence. Miranda shivers as she looks at the pointy turrets and transfigures into a raven, while Mateo morphs into a beetle. Before they transfigured, Mateo had cast a Cloaking Charm on their discarded cloaks and bags. Beetle Mateo clambers onto Miranda's wing and Miranda flies up to the windowsill, searching for her friends.

Death Eaters sit at a long, black glass table, Bellatrix holding court as Fenrir brings in Ron, Harry, and Hermione. Draco sits next to his mother, head bowed as a large snake slithers around them. The house looks grave, depressing. It feels like death.

It's even more horrible than I remember.

I almost feel sorry for Malfoy.

See I told—

I said almost. He's still a bloody Death Eater.

Bellatrix shoves Harry into a chair, binding him with a spell, he struggles against the Silencio Charm. Miranda inhales sharply, staring at Harry's broken figure.

We're going to get them out of there.

We have to.

We're going to, Miranda.

More Death Eaters arrive, moving closer to Harry, sticking their wands in his face unsurely. With every inch they move nearer to him Miranda feels her pulse speed up. They step back every so often to deliberate as Harry continues to resist his captured state, and Miranda can't bear to look.

Then Bellatrix looks like she's had an idea, a slow smile spreading over her face, exposing her decaying teeth. The wild haired woman beckons her nephew over. Draco hesitates, looking at his mother for help, but his aunt sinks her nails into his arm, pulling him forward and gesturing at Harry.

Oh no.

He's going to know it's him.

What do we do Matt?

We have to try to control her mind.

Bellatrix's? But she's a—

Fantastic Legilimens. I know, but we don't have any other options.

Miranda and Mateo push as hard as they can, trying desperately to access the witch's mind. The difficulty increased because of their transfigured state and the amount of effort it takes to penetrate a witch such as Bellatrix's mind without being detected.

I'm not getting anywhere.

Neither am I. Her blocking is too good

Matt, I don't think we can keep this up much longer without her realizing we're here.

I know.

Miranda closes her eyes, summoning all her strength, but nothing happens. She knows what she has to do, but Matt isn't going to like it.

Draco?

Miranda!

Shut up. Draco can you hear me?

Miranda what are you—

Using our other option

This isn't an option, this is suicide.

Draco, it's me, I know you can hear me. Just say you can't be sure it's him. Please. No more blood, no more death, just say you don't know whether it's him or not. You can do the right thing, Draco. I know you're scared but you can do this. Please. For me D, do it for me.

Miranda...

Shut up Matt!

Miranda and Mateo watch with bated breath as Draco turns away from Harry with a shrug, not making eye contact with his aunt, instead looking directly at where Raven Miranda is resting.

Are you happy now? He knows it's us.

He helped us.

You don't know that. We can't hear them.

But he—

Don't get sucked back in Miranda, use your head.

Narcissa fidgets agitatedly as she watches her sister and son, and Miranda remembers the days when she would sit quietly while 'Auntie Cissy' braided her hair. Draco would help Juniper in the kitchen, and once he even asked Narcissa to let him try to braid Miranda's hair. It was messy and full of bumps, but Draco was so proud he made her keep it in the whole day.

Bellatrix looks as though she might call the Dark Lord anyways, but decides against it, motioning for her underlings to take Harry and Ron away. Hermione, however, she grabs a hold of, leering dangerously in her face.

We have to get in there before she does something awful to Hermione

How? There's no way we can go in Transfigured and I don't think we can implant enough people fast enough.

Out of the corner of her eye, Miranda spies Draco making an odd, jerky head movement. She puts her beak up against the windowpane, squinting as she tries to read his lips.

What are you doing?

Draco, he's trying to tell me something.

Are you daft? He's trying to kill us.

Miranda pecks her brother, her beady bird eyes locking with Draco's pale ones. He's trying to mouth something, some word. If her idiot brother will just shut up she can figure it out.

No—No— something that starts with N

See he's saying no, as in he's not helping us

No, he's not.

What is he saying then?

Gnomes.

Miranda squawks and flies down to the tree where their possessions lie, she's knows exactly what Draco wants her to do.

Oi! Miranda! What are you doing?

We're transfiguring back, and we're going to get them out.

That's the stupidest idea I've ever-

I know how to get in. Just trust me Matt. We have to save them.

Miranda puts on her clothes and grabs Mateo by his cloak, dragging him down the hill and across the acres and acres of Malfoy land.

"Ow!" Mateo cries out, fumbling with his own clothing. "Miranda where are we going—?" Miranda pinches him.

"OW! What is the matter with—?"

"Shut up Mateo," she hisses lowly. "You're going to wake them."

"Wake who—mmph!" Miranda slaps a hand over her brother's mouth, putting a finger to her lips.

Idiot.

OW!

Baby.

You're mean! Where are we going?

To the dungeon.

"The DUNGE—" Miranda digs her fingernails into his arm, pointing wordlessly down below them where dozens of garden gnomes rest, snoring softly.

Be quiet!

Tell me where we're going!

I just did.

The dungeon is not the revealing answer you think it is.

They're keeping them in the dungeon.

How do you know?

Draco told me.

And you believe him?

Yes.

And you got all this from the word gnomes?

Yes.

Miranda!

What?

I'm going to need an explanation here.

When we were little our favorite game to play was hide and seek-

What does that have to do with—?

Let me finish! We would always try to find the best hiding spots, and the gnomes would find us, because we both liked hiding so much that neither of us wanted to be the seeker. The one time I came here, Lucius Malfoy was on a rampage, he was kicking the poor things, torturing them, I was so upset I wanted to punch the foul man in the face, but Draco held me back, saying I would only get hurt. I cried and cried. I just wanted to help the gnomes, so Draco showed me a secret tunnel he used to hide from his father. He told me we could put the gnomes there and then they would be alright.

How does that help us?

The tunnel goes underground. To the dungeon.

Oh.

"Yes," whispers Miranda, "but you have to be quiet so we can get to it before one of the gnomes wakes up and sees. They scream bloody murder if they feel threatened."

Miranda stops in front of a small, brown patch of grass, "Here it is." The spot is completely ordinary except for the fact that it was encircled by small pebbles. Miranda taps a green pebble three times with her wand and the ground underneath them gives way as they are sent hurtling down the path at breakneck speed.

Dirt and rocks fly, Miranda clipping her head on a root, Matt tumbling down after her as they land in a heap in a dark, dank, hole. The soil is moist, teeming with worms and decay. Mud streaks both of their faces, and Miranda's cloak is torn in several places.

"This is not the dungeon," Mateo dusts himself off, looking around with disgust.

"Shhh," Miranda hushes him. He's so inquisitive today. "Someone could be listening. We have to go through that passage there to get to the dungeon." Miranda indicates the narrow stone tunnel covered by a metal grate. "Just pop the gate off, and we can go."

"Through there?" Mateo looks at her skeptically

"Okay, so it's a little smaller than I remember, but we can manage."

Mateo folds his arms, "A little smaller?"

"Matt!" Miranda puts her hands on her hips. Matt shakes his head but obliges, taking the grate off and beckoning Miranda forward. Miranda rolls her eyes and climbs into the tiny opening, sucking in her stomach as she squeezes through. Mateo follows, barely fitting, and they crawl towards the voices that are becoming increasingly louder.

"Hermione! HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" One voice. Ron.

"Ron that's not doing any good!" A second voice. Harry.

"They can't hear us down here anyway." A third voice. Luna.

Miranda and Mateo reach the end of the tunnel, removing another metal grate and peering down at the cells, which are a surprisingly long way down.

"We'll have to jump," says Miranda definitively, and much too matter of factly for the current situation.

Mateo blinks, "Are you out of your fucking mind?

"On three," she pays her brother no mind.

"Okay, you're definitely out of your mind."

"1—"

"Miranda, you can't be serious."

"2, take my hand—"

"Miranda, this isn't a—"

"3!"

The twins brace themselves for impact, landing hard on the cold stone floor. There is an audible crack and Miranda can feel a shooting pain in her arm.

"Fuck," she mutters under her breath.

"What is it?"

"My fucking arm," she breathes raggedly. "I think it's fucking broken."

"You curse a lot when you're in pain," notes Matt in amusement.

"Fuck off."

"Who's there?" Miranda hears a familiar airy voice and her and Mateo rush towards it. Harry, Ron, Luna, and Ollivander are behind bars, Ollivander frail and slumped against the wall. Luna, skinnier then Miranda has ever seen her, platinum hair tangled in coarse knots. Ron, still screaming for Hermione, punching the wall, fists bloody. And Harry, her beautiful beautiful Harry, trying valiantly to restrain his best friend.

"HERMIONE! HERMIONE! LET HER GO! HERMIONE!" Ron is shouting, begging, horrible gut wrenching sobs.

"Shut up, Ron!" Harry yells, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. He clamps a hand over Ron's mouth. "You're only making it worse!"

"HERMIONE! HERMIO—"

"Harry's right Ron. We have a plan, but you have to be quiet," Mateo whispers, him and Miranda appearing from out of the shadows.

Harry drops Ron like a hot stone, slack jawed. His face blanches paper white, "Miranda?" Her name is a hoarse, choked whisper.

Miranda feels her throat constrict, as if an invisible rope has been looped around her neck, strings being tightened with each second that passes. She can't speak, can't move, can't think. She hasn't heard his voice in so very long. Every fiber of her being wants to throw her arms around him, to kiss him and hold him, and never ever let him go again. To inhale his familiar scent and let him twine his fingers through her own. A shadow has appeared on the fine plane of his jaw in the months they've been apart, his hair longer, scruffier. Stubble works on him. He looks, well...hot.

Not what you should be thinking about right now, Miranda! She mentally reprimands herself, looking at her feet to avoid losing herself in those green eyes she knows all too well.

"You said something about a plan?" Luna smiles at them hopefully and Miranda's love for her optimistic friend soars, momentarily breaking the spell of the boy before her.

"There's a tunnel," Matt informs her hurriedly. He glances anxiously from Harry, who is staring intently at Miranda, and his sister who is staring equally intently at the nearest wall. "We'll take you through it and then you can apparate wherever you need to go from there."

"What about Hermione?" One thing, and one thing only on his mind, Ron paces wildly.

"We'll come back for—"

"No!" Ron shouts adamantly, eyes ablaze. "I'm not leaving without her! I won't—"

"Take Ollivander first," Luna pipes up kindly, extending a hand to the frail man. "He'll need help."

"Hermione!" Ron reminds them all fiercely, "We have to get Hermione."

Mateo thinks quickly, but Miranda senses the panic edging on his tone. He's worried, and doing his best not to show it. "I— I can call Grady, his magic will work inside because—"

"Grady?!" Miranda says incredulously. It is the first she's spoken since they arrived at the cell, and she remains pointedly avoiding eye contact with Harry. "Snape told us to use him only has a last resort. They'll know where we're staying. Matt, we—"

"Don't have a choice," Mateo decides grimly. "Ron and I will go upstairs. I'll confund anyone I have to." He winces slightly at this, and Miranda knows he's possibly even less thrilled about this half baked plan than she is. That is, until she hears the next bit. "We'll get Hermione, and Grady will apparate us out of there. Luna and Mr. Ollivander will go through the tunnel first, and then you and Ha—"

"I'm going with you!" Harry and Miranda cry out simultaneously, outraged. She's forgotten how similar they were in instances like these. Maybe that's why they could never work.

Mateo shakes his head firmly, "It's you they want, mate. The spell Hermione put on you is already starting to wear off. They'll call him."

"That doesn't mean I can't—" Miranda protests, eyes wide and pleading. She cannot be left alone in here with him. She simply cannot.

"Someone has to stand guard Miranda," Mateo explains apologetically, hoisting Luna and Ollivander into the tunnel and turning to go as Miranda hugs him as tight as she can muster.

Her instincts scream to follow her brother, the one constant in her world. "Don't die."

"I'll do my best." Miranda has to believe that that will be enough. Him and Ron disappear up the stairs, leaving Harry and Miranda really and truly alone. A thick tension settles immediately over them, and Miranda can hear her heart thudding in her ears.

"Miranda," Harry swings open the cell door, slowly walking closer to her. Her name again, reverent and unflinching. She hasn't heard it from him in so long, watched as his mouth rounds out the vowels. "Miranda," he repeats. Like he's savoring the taste of the word on his tongue. Her heart absolutely aches.

"Don't come any closer," she throws her hands up in front of her by wya of barricade, but he merely takes them in his. Her only method of protection is gone. She is completely at the mercy of her emotions, of Harry's eyes, the way they pause on her every feature, drinking her in.

Harry raises his fingertips to her cheek, gentle and tender. "Stop,"  Miranda shuts her eyes, tears clogging the back of her throat. The warmth of his hand traces up her cheekbone and she inhales sharply. She wants so badly to melt into his touch. To sigh into his chest and have his steady, strong arm on her waist. "Please," she manages stiffly, shying away. "Harry, I can't—"

"No," Harry responds definitively, taking his other hand and threading it through her hair. His minor touch sends sparks through Miranda's body, nerve endings crackling to life. A mix of pleasure and pain. "You cut it."

She swallows thickly, "I did."

"I like it."

Another stab in her heart plunges deep, splitting her apart. It feels as if her very being is tearing at the seams, ripping irreparable gashes through the fabric of her soul. "Harry," she sucks in a careful, painful breath. How can something as simple as a name feel like a shriveling death. "We can't— you can't just— stop." She begs helplessly. "Please. We have to go—" Miranda tries to turn away, heading for the tunnel, but Harry blocks her path, holding her wrist. "Let me go."

"No." There is a wild, defiant expression on Harry's face just then. One that Miranda has only seen twice before. Once when he tore away from her after Snape that fateful night in Dumbledore's tower, and the first time— just before he kissed her in the Room of Requirement fifth year.

"Harry, let me go," she murmurs. The room suddenly feels about a million times smaller, as if there is not enough oxygen to supply the both of them. He's too close. She's too close.

Harry's jaw tenses, "Not again."

"Harry—"

"I'm never letting you go again," he says, without a trace of hesitation, sincerity. "Do you hear me?"

"You're making this harder that it has to be, Harry," Miranda attempts to keep her voice even, determined. "Please. Let's get out of here."

Harry scoffs,"Hard is being without you. I'm not leaving unless you're coming with me."

God, he's stubborn. She's missed that. "Harry— no.  I—" Air. Her lungs need more air.

"Please," whispers Harry, stricken. He stretches out his thumb, tilting her chin up ever so slightly. It is as if a blade has been driven into her flesh.

"Harry— stop—" She gasps in short bursts, grasping at her throat, "You can't do this to me— you can't—"

He is unrelenting, berating her. "What about what you did to me?What about that?" His gaze bores into her like a drill, "I loved you and you left. Do you have any idea what that did to me?"

"THEN STOP LOVING ME," Miranda wrenches violently away from him, backing herself into a corner. "MAKE IT EASIER AND STOP LOVING ME!" shrieks Miranda, voice breaking horribly.

"DON'T YOU THINK I'VE TRIED?" Harry roars, tears in his eyes. His tortured echo reverberates off of the dungeon walls. "I can't stop loving you, Mandy," his admission is low. "I just can't."

Miranda is frozen. Unable to move. Caught in this space, in this time, in his eyes. Every inch of her is suspended. "Harry—"

He grabs her face with both of his hands and pulls it to meet his own. Their lips are a breadth away from one another. Finally, finally, Miranda is forced to look at him. Really look at him. Everything floods back to her at once.

How had she forgotten? It had always been Harry. Harry who was  broken in all the ways she was. Harry who never wavered, always understood. Who patched her back together after her mother died, giving her space to cry, to laugh. He was there. Always. Even before they were together, before all the tragedy. When he stayed up with her on nights when she couldn't fall asleep and brought her coffee with a smile, and would fight anyone who looked at her the wrong way. When he blushed and stammered and offered her his hand. A stray wink during a Quidditch game, a glance across a classroom. Love before they even knew the meaning of it, the enormity of it.

How could she have possibly forgotten? Because she had to. Because she would sacrifice anything for him, even her one true happiness. She had to forget. For him. It was all for him.

"Look me in the eye," commands Harry. "Look me in the eye and tell me you don't love me. Tell me right now, Miranda."

Miranda breathes faster and faster, her heartbeat speeding up, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Everything else fades away. The dungeon, their problems, Voldemort. All she sees is him, bruised and beaten and wonderful, staring at her with so much love it spills out. Tears obscure her vision, she can't let him see her cry. She opens her mouth, but no sound comes out.

"You can't do it, can you?" Harry's hands tremble on her cheek. "You can't do it because you still love me too."

"I—" The moment snaps, and Harry's hands fly up to his scar. Miranda's head throbs dangerously. A warning.

He's here. Miranda, get out now!

What about you?

Meet me by the tree.

Matt—

GO!

Miranda can barely focus, but somehow she pulls herself together. Be strong. She steels herself, centering on her newfound mantra. "He's here, Harry," she drags him towards the tunnel. "We have to move!"

Frantically, they crawl back up to the surface, hearing the shouts of dueling above. When they finally reach the top, the gnomes are running wildly about the grass, which would've been comical if Miranda could just find her fucking brother.

Harry is still gripping tight to her hand, but Miranda can't concern herself with that right now, she needs to find—

"Matt!" Harry and her spot Ron, Mateo and Hermione running towards them. Matt is holding a body of some sort, and Miranda feels her stomach curdle. Draco is on their heels, all four flinging spells at one another, except for Hermione, who seems to have lost her wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry casts a jet of red light at Malfoy, and Draco's wand flies out of his hands and into Harry's. Draco does not let this derail him, continuing the chase, however it does give Matt, Ron, and Hermione the upper hand as they begin to gain a sufficient lead on the blond haired boy.

"Fuck!" Miranda curses as her and Harry nearly wipe out, arms pinwheeling to regain their balance, finally reaching their friends.

Dobby pops out from behind the tree, and Miranda does not even question his appearance. "Come, come. Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, and Mr. Weasley, Dobby will take you to Shell Cottage." Hermione, Ron, and Harry don't move. Not even a finger. All three of them are absolutely stopped in their tracks, eyes on their best friend.

They don't have time for this. They can't do this. This is why she had to leave without saying goodbye. It was too difficult. "Go!" Miranda shouts, trying to release her hand from Harry's.

"I told you I wasn't leaving without you," Harry shakes his head in vehement refusal.

"I SAID GO!" Miranda cries, rivulets of tears cascading down her cheeks, pushing him into Ron and Hermione, who Dobby is linked with. "Dobby, now!"

With a snap of his fingers and a flash of light, Miranda's friends start to dematerialize. Harry reaches his hand out, the last thing he sees is Miranda raising her wand to an oncoming horde of Death Eaters as he screams, "Wait!" But his fingers slash through the air to no avail. Miranda slipping through his grasp for a second time.

Miranda shoots a barrier spell around the tree. It will hold the Death Eaters, but not for long. Draco's already getting closer. She rushes to her brother's side as he lays the small body down on the ground, blood on his hands.

"Who is it, Matt? Who is it?" She kneels down and peers at the thing her brother is cradling. "No," Miranda wails, horrified. "Grady? No!" Her brother is pressing his hand to the house elf's abdomen, which is bleeding profusely, the dark red blossoming through his pillowcase.

Her brother's face is grief stricken as he blubbers, "It was Bellatrix, she- she- stabbed him. I thought we were out— but Grady he—" Draco is getting closer, and Mateo rises quickly. "Stay with him Miranda. I'll hold him off!"

"Matt—" Miranda doesn't want them to split up again. There's an uncertainty when they aren't together. An unwelcome one.

"Stay!"

Matt draws his wand at prepares to meet Malfoy, while Miranda takes her cloak and tries to stem Grady's wound. Matt advances on a wandless Malfoy, who raises his hands up in surrender.

"Stop—wait!" A desperate quality oozes from Malfoy's pores. He is weak, unarmed. "I don't have a wand. Just let me talk!"

"You're lucky I'm not a killer, Malfoy," growls Mateo.

Malfoy says, "They'll know you're staying with Snape, okay? They'll come and find you. They'll—" He cuts himself off, but the unspoken is more powerful than the end of the sentence. Mateo knows. He knows. "But I know a place you can go."

Mateo's eyes narrow infinitesimally, "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you helping us?"

"Look," Malfoy sighs, looking weary and worn down. He shoves a scrap of parchment at Mateo. "Just go to this address, you can apparate there, it's safe. My mother used it to get away from my father.

"What are you playing at?" interrogates Mateo harshly. His trust has  grown thin this past year. His faith withered. "Because if this is some sort of—"

"It's not."

"Then why?"

"Her," Draco says rather simply, looking at the spot where Miranda sits.

Mateo takes the bit of paper with the address, pointing his wand at Malfoy's throat "Stay away from my sister," he threatens, walking back to the tree.

"Matt, I—" Miranda nods her head to the pale Grady, covered in blood.

"Goodbye, Mateo." The elf begins to close his eyes.

"No! Grady!" Mateo sobs deeply, the Death Eaters very near now.

Miranda takes her brother's hand gently. "Matt," she whispers softly. "We have to go..." Mateo nods, choking back tears. He closes his eyes and they apparate away just as the Death Eaters break the barrier.

Miranda watches while her brother carefully places Grady in the small hole they dug in the surrounding forest, marking the grave with a plain marble headstone. Miranda raises her wand and a small ring of white magnolias appears on the overturned dirt, vines wrapping around the earth and beginning to grow.

Mateo steps back and Miranda puts an arm around him. They lean their heads together in remembrance of everyone they've lost. Their parents, a sister they never knew, Dumbledore, and now Grady. They stay like that for a long time, brother and sister, against the world.

sorry :(

i really am

mostly...

xxx,

coco