The summer passes slowly. Like a thick syrup, dark and sticky, languidly dripping off the side of a wall. Uncomfortable and unbearable. Day after day, Mateo and Miranda wait in the house. Wait for Severus to come home and tell them news, wait to hear if someone is dead or hurt or missing,waiting. That's what Miranda's life consists of now; waiting. Their mission hasn't started yet, Snape won't give them any new information about it either, just insists that they practice every day.

Miranda is listless. She's lost weight, too much weight. Her hair is long and matted, dull. She feels grey, like all the colors have been sapped from her soul. She misses Harry, the hollow spot in her chest growing each day that goes by where he isn't with her, touching her, loving her.

At least she has Matt. That's what she she tells herself,  over and over again. As long as she has Matt everything will be alright.

It is the week before they are supposed to return to Hogwarts. They should be in Diagon Alley, laughing, getting books and robes, eating ice cream at Fortescue's Instead they're here, in this dank, crooked house, preparing themselves for war.

Miranda sighs heavily, trudging down the rickety stairs. There is mold growing from the cracks in the ceiling, a sickly yellow colour. The air  inside of the house is warm and humid, sour. Sweat trickles down the back of her neck, and she has a vague thought or two about the sparkling waters of the beach she lived by once. The soft sand beneath her toes, and her mother's musical laugh as she watched her surf and frolic in the waves from the shore. It feels like an eternity ago.

She sidles up next to her brother, who is perched at the windowsill "They're moving him today," says Miranda quietly. It's been weighing on her ever since she heard the news. His birthday was soon. She'd always pictured his seventeenth birthday differently. She'd wanted to have a party, give him the picture she'd found among her mum's old stuff. He'd have loved it. Loved her.

"It should work," Mateo replies, eyes tired. "The Polyjuice Potion idea was a good one. Hopefully they'll get by unscathed."

"Except Severus told them what time they're going," Miranda retorts snappishly. This had been her least favorite facet of the plan.

"You know he has to keep up appearances," Mateo looks at her pointedly.

"I still don't like him," she says sullenly, staring out the window at the stark landscape. Her opinion of Snape has not improved in any sort of way since living at his home. If anything, it's worsened.

Her brother rubs a hand over his jaw, "Don't worry he'll be gone soon. Hogwarts is starting back up again."

"I can't believe they made him headmaster," Miranda scoffs. It seems to her an idea of epically bad proportions. Double agent or not, she doesn't trust Snape. She doesn't trust Dumbledore either. Not anymore.

"Well when Voldemort controls every fucking thing in the wizarding world it's not that hard." Mateo pauses for a moment, thinking. He is chewing his bottom lip like it's taffy. "You reckon it's safe there? Can't be more dangerous than out here— right? I just—"

Miranda knows immediately what he is trying to convey. She's grown so attuned to her brother's signs these past few months. "Ginny will be alright Matt," Miranda reassures in a soft voice, smiling encouragingly. "She's an incredibly sufficient witch. And— she's got Neville and Luna."

"Hm," Mateo hums, somewhat absentmindedly. The lines on his forehead ease, hut his eyes remain worried. Miranda pats him on the shoulder.

The front door creaks open and Snape swishes in, black cape billowing behind him. Grady, the house elf totters after him, carrying a plate full of food.

"Sir," Grady squeaks, big, bulbous eyes wide and watery. "Master Snape would you like a pasty? Sir?" Snape ignores the persistent house elf, whose flopping  ears have folded over at the rejection.

Mateo smiles kindly at Grady, "It's alright Grady. I think Severus is  fine, but I'll have a pasty if you don't mind."

The house elf beams up at him, "Oh thank you, Master Mateo." The little thing is practically giddy at the acknowledgement. Miranda hasn't had much experience with house elves. Only Krcacher, who mutters and lurks, and Dobby who is somewhat of a loose cannon. Grady is on the tamer side, older, she thinks. Happy to help, and offer sage advice. "Would Miss Miranda like a pasty as well?"

Miranda glances down at the plate for a moment, touching a hand to her abdomen. She swallows, "No, I'm alright Grady. Thank you for offering."

"You need to eat," Mateo mutters, stern brows drawn together. He's noticed, of course, her reluctance to eat or drink or be. He's noticed how she swims in the fabric of shirts that used to fit. The gray rings, and the half smiles— never quite reaching her eyes.

"I do eat!" she protests, crossing her arms over her chest.

Mateo is not having it. Not today. He needs his sister to be okay again. "Miranda—your clothes are hanging off of you. You're all skin and bone."

"I'm swooning," responds Miranda drily, attempting to ease the tension. Sarcasm is one of the few things she can still manage, fortunately. At least she has that. "How do the girls resist you?"

"No deflecting with humor!" Mateo shakes his finger at her, warningly. He knows all her tricks. "I'm having Grady make you a grilled cheese and you're going to eat it while I watch."

Miranda glowers at Mateo darkly and begrudgingly takes a patsy from the eager Grady, who scurries off to the kitchen to make the grilled cheese.

"So that little thing really raised you?" Miranda asks, gesturing at the elf. It seems almost unbelievable.

"Yeah," Mateo chuckles lightly. He views the elf with a sweet sort of fondness. "Severus would always disappear when he had to go teach. Grady was left in charge of me."

Miranda ponder this for a moment, wrapping her cardigan around her. "Well, then who taught you to play Quidditch? Don't tell me Grady can ride a broomstick." She snickers,  "I'm betting it wasn't Snape either."

Mateo frowns, as thought this hadn't crossed his mind, "There was a lady who used to come over sometimes when I was little. I think she taught me,—but she stopped coming a long time ago..."

"Who was she?" Miranda cocks her head. This is the first she's heard of this. A woman? She doubts it was a friend of Snape's. First, it was a woman, and second, she's not sure Snape has any friends who aren't killer blood supremacists.

"I— I don't know..." Mateo furrows his brow, trying to recall.

"Come,"  Snape interrupts their conversation with his monotone command, gliding into the room and sucking all life from it. As usual. Miranda's mood dampens, as he beckons them forward.

"Come where?" inquires Miranda, suspicious. She's not at school any longer. Any extremely thin modicum of respect she had once been required to hold for Snape has since evaporated.

"First mission, excited?" Snape replies, sneering. Miranda's pulse thrums for the first time in what feels like centuries, her mind whirring to life at the possibility. Finally, finally, she will have something to do.

It sounds almost perverse to say, but Miranda has missed the danger. The reckless nature that her existence had once held. She's felt so useless lately, without purpose. Nothing to tether her to reality. She needs to be doing something. She wants to help. Needs to help. To be involved.

Often, she believes she thrives best in a high pressure situation. She'll always put the welfare of others first. Put herself in harm's way. Harry had always understood that. Better than anyone.

"No more questions," Snape orders, before Miranda can utter a word. "We have to apparate now." Miranda and Mateo link arms with Snape and are pulled a a gut wrenching speed through the air, landing beside a small overgrowth on a hill. Snape directs, "Hide there. The Order brigade will be coming through here soon. The Death Eaters will attack. They will be trying to find the true Harry...your job is to prevent them from doing that." He explains. "Remember, it is crucial that they are unaware you are in their minds, Lord Voldemort may appear tonight and he can sense you better than anyone, if at any point you feel you have been compromised, apparate back to the house immediately. Do you understand?"

Miranda and Mateo nod seriously "Severus—" Mateo starts, mouth pinched into a line. "How will we know which one is the real Harry?"

"I assume Miss McGonagall can help you with that matter." And with this he disappears, the horizon awash in a hue of orangey pink and purple.

Miranda does not know how long they crouch there, in relative silence. The sky darkens completely, and their knees grow damp from the grass they've been sitting in. Suddenly, they hear voices. Broomstick, and thestrals appear in the air above them and Miranda's heart jumps to her throat. They can see Moody, and Bill, and Kingsley, and so many more Order members, each with a Harry perched upon whatever contraption they're riding.

The knowledge that Harry is so near causes her chest to tighten involuntarily, and she grips the soil beneath her to ground herself. Focus.

"How the bloody hell are we supposed to figure out which one's actually Harry?" Mateo whispers agitatedly, gaze darting across the starry sky. "We don't have much time before the Death eaters arrive."

As the worry leaves his lips Miranda spots a Harry sitting in the sidecar of a motorbike next to Hagrid. She peers at the way his jaw is set, how he sits, the slight quirk in his mouth. Her entire being sparks with recognition.

That one, on the motorbike next to Hagrid. That's Harry

Are you sure? Wouldn't they put him with someone like Moody?

It's him. I'm sure.

I believe you.

One by one, Death Eaters start to materialize, spells shooting every which way. Red, white, green and blue jets of light strobe in the depths of night, Screams puncture the silence with sharp, piercing clarity. Miranda hears a shriek that reminds her of Hermione and her stomach churns.

Miranda and Mateo do their best to make sure no Death Eaters cast any deadly spells, implanting commands left and right. She can't dwell on the shouts, the bodies falling from the sky.

They register Stan Shunpike call out, "That's him, that's Harry!" He's pointing at the motorbike. Miranda's heart comes to a full stop, oxygen failing to reach her brain. How? Frantically, Miranda and Mateo grasp hands.

It's not him, turn around.

It's not him, turn around.

It's not him, turn around.

It's not him, turn around.

"It's not him!" Stan Shunpike yells again, turning around to leave. Miranda and Mateo breathe in a sigh of relief. It does not last long. In a cloud of shadowy smoke, Voldemort appears. Immediately, Miranda's head sears with pain, her vision going black.

The two of you are just as weak as your father.

Miranda gasps, watching helplessly as Voldemort charges after the real Harry, both of them casting spells at one another. This isn't happening. Tis isn't happening. She moves to leap out  of the bushes, she can't just— Mateo takes her arm.

Miranda we have to go. Now!

But Harry—

He knows we're here you heard what Severus said

But—

NOW!

The world twists and they fall with a thump on Severus's lawn, panting hard. A few minutes later Snape appears as well, a singular scratch on his arm. "Get inside," he mumbles tersely, looking around warily as he places the protection charm around the house.

"Who's hurt? What happened? Did everyone make it?" Miranda bombards the professor with questions once they're inside.

"Calm yourself, Miss McGonagall."

Miranda's eyes flash with renowned fury, balling her hands into fists. "I will not calm myself professor," she snaps. 'Those are our friends. Do you even know what that means?"

"Miranda—" Mateo places a warning hand on her shoulder.

Snape's mouth contorts cruelly, "You're lucky I liked your mother."

"You mean lucky you liked Harry's mother," Miranda fires back scathingly, and Snape automatically recoils.

"She didn't mean that Severus," Mateo nudges Miranda reprimandingly, daring a cautious gauge of Snape's reaction.

His features are a stone mask. "All I know is that one of the Weasley twins lost an ear. I saw several people fall from the sky, but I don't know who." Snape goes into his office and slams the door shut behind him.

Blinking back her tears, Miranda rushes upstairs before Matt can see. Her clothes are streaked with mud and dirt, and spattered with blood that she doesn't remember seeing. It must be from Hedwig; Miranda saw the bird fall. Harry must be devastated. Harry.

She hopes he's okay, hopes all of them are alive and uninjured. She opens her trunk to get more clothes, a flash of red catching her eye. Slowly, she pulls out Harry's Gryffindor jumper, soft and worn. It has a note attached to it.

I know this is your favorite Mandy so I'm letting you keep it. Now you won't have to steal it from me anymore.

Love,

Harry

Her sight blurs as she clutches the paper and jumper to her chest, wet spots dotting Harry's slanted writing.

Love, Harry. 

Miranda inhales deeply, it still smells like him— and it only makes her cry even harder. Her limbs ache with loss, and she chokes on a sob

Mateo knows something's wrong instantly. He rushes upstairs and looks at her in sorrow, "Miranda, are you alright?"

"No!" She cries out, her lip trembling. Tears slide down her face in rapid succession, one after another. Her ribs feel as if they're collapsing in on themselves, and she grasps at her neck "I can't breathe, Matt," Miranda whimpers, tortured. "I can't breathe."

Mateo's eyes grow wide in evident panic, taking her distress literally. "Oh my god do you need me to—"

"He was my air," Miranda continues, the tears clogging her throat. A lump has lodged itself there, immovable. "Harry was the air in my lungs, and he's gone—and I can't breathe." She's hyperventilating now, shoulders heaving shallowly. "I can't breathe without him. It hurts—and I keep thinking that one day it won't hurt anymore, but everyday another piece of me is carved away. I can't breathe Mateo—I can't breathe." Her voice cracks, and she collapses into horrible, broken sobs again.

Mateo hates seeing her this way, his beautiful, strong sister is a shell of her former self, wasting away. He wants to take all of her pain away. If she's hurt, he's hurt. That's just the way they work, and he won't make it unless she's there with him. He needs her just as much as she needs him, and he needs her to be herself.

Somehow Mateo coaxes her into the shower, wipes the blood off her, gets her in fresh clothes. He tucks her into bed softly, placing the old stuffed rabbit beside her. He sits on the edge  bed, holding her hand tightly, "You're going to be ok do you hear me? You are so strong Miranda, mum always said you were strong." There is no response from the girl, her back to him. "Be strong for her Miranda. Be strong for Eve and Dad, be strong for me,"  he pleads, willing her to show some sign of hearing him. Silence. "Fight this.

"I don't know how," an anguished murmur, hushed and watery.

A  singular tears rolls down Mateo's cheek, unbidden. "Yes, you do," he whispers. "Yes, you do."

Miranda closes her eyes in defeat, laying her head back on the pillows as she descends into a dreamless sleep.

She wakes up the next morning clutching her sister's rabbit. The events of last night tumble back to her, and her face feels sticky with salty tears. She sees Harry's jumper still lying on the floor and winces.

Slowly, she rises, padding softly to the bathroom where she splashes cold water on her face. Miranda stares at her reflection in the mirror, barely recognizing the image before her. Where there once was a girl with full, freckled, rosy cheeks, bright eyes, pink lips, and golden hair, there was now a gaunt, sallow cheeked, dull eyed stranger with cracked lips and knotted hair that stretched down her back. Where there had been lean muscles and strong curves, there are now bones, jutting out everywhere, her arm looks like it could snap in two if she tried.

Be strong.

Mateo's words from last night echo in her mind, and Miranda bites her lip determinedly. She can do this, one step at a time.

She scrutinizes her reflection further. Her hair will be the first thing to go. It hangs like a curtain around her face, weighing her down like an anchor. Yes, it needs to go.

Miranda grabs a pair of scissors and just starts cutting. Chunks of her hair fall to the floor, blond strands collecting in piles at her feet. Finally, Miranda is satisfied, swiveling her head back and forth to admire her work. It's a little jagged, slightly choppy, but altogether it's pretty badass. She ruffles it a bit, softening the rough edges with her wand, and throws on a cropped white band tee and a pair of jeans.

Carefully, she folds Harry's jumper and the note and places it in the bottom of her trunk. Out of sight, out of mind. What is done, is done. She heads downstairs, determined to dwell on Harry. Mateo is already in the kitchen, trying to help Grady make tea.

"Good," he remarks, "you're up." He stops, noticing her new haircut, "Your hair—did you—?"

"I cut it," she states simply, with an airy lift of her shoulder. "It was time for a change."

Mateo grins, "It's short."

"Really," Miranda rolls her eyes. "I had no idea." Briskly, she busies herself about the kitchen, "Is there any coffee? You Brits and your tea are the bane of my existence. I need caffeine."

Mateo beams widely,  elbowing Miranda, "Welcome back, little sister."

"Thirteen minutes!" says Miranda adamantly.

He just hugs her, "I missed you."

"Okay— okay!" She embraces him back begrudgingly. "No more mushy stuff please Matt," she wriggles out of his hold, swiping the slice of toast from his plate as she does.

"Well, that lasted about five seconds," Matt teases, waving a butter knife at her.

The next few days pass quickly. It feels odd to both Miranda and Mateo that they will not be on the train this year. That they will not hear an opening speech from Dumbledore. Snape leaves, and gives instructions about their next missions, saying that he will not return for some time, asking them not to contact him at Hogwarts unless it is absolutely necessary.

Miranda and Mateo stay glued to the radio, they have to keep up with what's happening because their task at the moment is to stop groups of Snatchers from taking Muggleborns

"Dean Thomas, Ted Tonks, and Dirk Cresswell reported missing this morning." The radio blares. Miranda twists her hands nervously, waiting for any news about Harry, Hermione, or Ron.

"It's probably a good thing they aren't mentioning them," says Mateo, poring over a book on rare countercurses. "It means they haven't been discovered, and they're safe."

Miranda grits her teeth, bitter, "Or it means they're already dead." She always searches for the worst. She can't help it.

"Don't think like that," he mumbles. "We'd know."

An owl raps at the window, carrying two letters in its talons. Mateo opens the window and hands the letters to Miranda, who looks at the names on them curiously.

"Why is Malfoy sending Snape a letter?" she asks, begging to tear open the envelope.

"Don't," Mateo stops her. "It's probably cursed or something. It's Death Eater business."

"Right," Miranda says dejectedly. She'd almost forgotten, forgotten that Draco was— she moves on to the next envelope. "Who's E?"

"No clue," Mateo shrugs, squinting at the writing. "Do you reckon we should open it?"

She makes an impatient noise in the back of her throat, tossing her hair back. "No, I think we should do the respectful thing and give it to Snape," Miranda deadpans. "Of course we're going to open it!"  She rips open the letter and begins to read, Mateo following along over her shoulder.

Snape,

I'm writing to you because I want to come back. You know I wouldn't contact you, unless it was absolutely necessary. I don't trust you. I remember what you did. What you said. What you were.  We've never seen eye to eye, you and me. I know you see them. They don't know who I am, and I want them too. I know it's dangerous, but I don't care anymore. I won't stay away any longer. I've missed too much. She trusted you. For some inexplicable reason. I couldn't explain it. If I had my way— if any of us had our way you wouldn't be apart of this. But— they're the only family I've got left. After— after what you did. You are half the man he was, less than that. Half the men they all were, you and your spineless sidekick. I do not ask you for apologies, and you will not ask for my forgiveness. I will not give it. I only ask you this: meet me at the spot where I saved your life. Don't tell anyone.

-E

"Weird," Miranda lets out an exhale when she finishes reading. "I wonder who it could be."

"E, E, E..." Mateo is deep in thought.

"What?"

"Just something about that name or initial or whatever, it just sounds so familiar."

Their musings are interrupted by the shrill ring of the Snatchers siren. Immediately, they jump into action. Miranda adjusting their features slightly, making her hair red and Mateo's blond, noses bigger, eyes different colors, you get the picture. It was so they couldn't be easily identifiable, while not as sought after as Harry, the twins were still huge targets. Miranda grabs her wand and slings her dark maroon coat on, linking arms with Mateo as they Disapparate.

UNTIL NEXT TIME

XOXO,

-COCO