Miranda waits under the tree for Draco. She's been seeing him less and less since they made up, especially since D.A. takes so much of her time. She feels badly about it, of course. But she expects he's been busy too, even if he's not consistently in detention or secretly learning defense or trying to uncover generational secrets, he still has mountains of homework.

    "Look who's on time for once," Draco swings around the trunk of the tree and hops down to join her, shaking his blond hair out of his face.

    "Nice to see you too," she says, flicking the side of his head. Then, Miranda notices a shiny pin on his robes.  She peers at it closer. It's new, something she doesn't recognize. It doesn't look like a prefect's badge. She's seen Hermione's and Ron's long enough to know. "What is that?"

    "Oh— nothing," Draco panics, trying to cover it with his hand, but Miranda is too quick. She reaches out to grab the lapels of his robes. "G, don't—"

    Her face falls when she reads what is engraved on it, "The Inquisitorial Squad? D, are you serious?" She folds her arms, "That woman is a troll."

    "You can't blame her just for giving Potter detention all the time," Draco defends haughtily. "He loses his temper; he deserves it."

    "She provokes him!"

    "He doesn't have to—"

    Miranda tears off her glove in one swift motion, shoving her right hand under his nose. "He's not the only one getting detention, Draco," she retorts hotly. "Do you see this? This is from her. She tortures us. Happily."

    Draco looks at his feet, mumbling out a string of pitiful excuses, "Well, my father he— and I— er... she makes a good case— and Pansy she—Crabbe and Goyle— erm..."

    "Crabbe and Goyle? Your father?" Miranda cries out in utter disbelief. "You've got to be kidding me, Draco. That's your defense?"

    "You don't get to judge me," Draco says very loudly, temper rising. "Things have been really hard at home, but you wouldn't know that because you aren't here anymore!"

    At this, Miranda falters. He— well, there he has a point. Miranda, chastened, checks her watch."Actually, I have to—"

    "Go right?" Draco scoffs bitterly. "Of course you do, can you even tell me where you're going?"

    "I—I—um..." she chews in the inner corner of her cheek guiltitiily.

    "I figured," he turns away from her and starts to leave.

    "D," Miranda sighs heavily, "I want to tell you, but I just...can't."

    "If you really wanted to tell me you would." Draco snaps, "You're supposed to be my best friend, Miranda. Friends don't keep secrets. I bet you don't keep secrets from  Potter." And with that he leaves Miranda under the tree alone.

Miranda can't deal with this right now, she needs to get to the Room of Requirement. Covertly, she sneaks through the halls of Hogwarts, avoiding Filch and any members of Umbridge's group. When she arrives, early like she prefers, only Harry is in there, setting up. She likes arriving early so she can get warmed up before the lesson. Okay and maybe she likes getting a few minutes alone with those green eyes.

    Besides, things between them have been weird lately. A good kind of weird though. A sweet weird. The kind of weird where sometimes he dozes off on her shoulder during a study session in the common room and stammers when she gets really close to him. The kind of weird that when she had chocolate on her upper lip he wiped off with the soft swipe of his own thumb. Weird that was confusing, since he'd made it pretty clear he wasn't interested.

    Miranda bounds over to help Harry with the equipment, tying her hair in a knot at the top of her head. "Boo," she says, leaning over his shoulder.

    "Hi there," Harry greets, looking up at her. His mouth falls open slightly, "Oh—"

    "What?" Miranda frowns, confused.

    Harry shakes his head like a dog trying to rid water from its ears. "Nothing— I just— erm— your hair— I've never seen— I like it."

    Miranda tries in vain not to blush. A very difficult task, mind you. She twists her lips into a mischievous smile, "What are we doing today, Professor?"

    Harry scowls, "How many times have I told you not to call me that?"

    "Enough times that I know it annoys you," she replies with a smirk, batting her eyelashes at him innocently.

    When everyone has arrived, Harry announces that today they will be practicing spells on their own. They all spread out, while Harry circles the room, checking up on people, and making the rounds. As is usual.

    Miranda, Hermione, and Ron take turns disarming one other. Hermione and Ron are bickering, also as usual. Miranda isn't sure what this particular spat is about. To be honest, sometimes her and Harry have to block it out. It's probably about S.P.E.W. or something. Whatever it is, she's on Hermione's side. Fred and George are busy messing with Zacharias Smith. Something that everyone, including Harry, knows about and could stop, but never does.

    Which reminds Miranda. As they are practicing she says, "Hermione you'll never believe what happened the other day. I completely forgot to tell you."

    "What is it?" asks Hermione eagerly.

    "Zacharias Smith asked me out," Miranda whispers, making sure she is out of earshot of the boy.

    Hermione claps hand over her mouth, aghast, "No."

    "Smith?" Ron makes a face at the thought. "What'd you say?"

    "Are you joking?" Miranda's forehead wrinkles. "No." She cast a disgruntles glance in Smith's direction, "Hasn't stopped him from trying. Asked me out twice already this week. Keeps cornering me after Charms."

    Suddenly, Harry appears as if out of nowhere. "Who's been asking you out? he asks, rather agitatedly.

    "Smith," she answers primly.

    Harry frowns very deeply, his jaw tightening, "Is he bothering you?"

    "Potter," Miranda warns. "He's harmless. Don't go getting yourself in trouble. Again," she adds wryly.

    "Well, what'd you tell him?" Harry presses, gulping.

    "I told him no, of course," Miranda replies. "I'm not going out with him."

    "Oh—" Harry seems to calm somewhat, features relaxing, "okay, that's good then." He starts to migrate around the room again, but not before saying, with a slight grin, "I really do like your hair like that."

    Miranda can barely contain her happiness, having much trouble focusing on the task at hand.

    Ron stares at her, furrowing his brow, "Why're you smiling so much today, McGonagall?"

    Hermione giggles, "Harry can't keep his eyes off you can he?"

    "Shut up!" she says, the tips of her ears going red with embarrassment.

    "Ah," Ron nods his head sagely, finally catching on to what they're talking about. He tilts his head at Harry, "He looks a bit like a trout, doesn't he? Mouth open like that." He smirks evilly at Miranda, "Not that you don't do the same thing McGonagall. We've seen you drooling over him."

    "Shut up, both of you!" Miranda commands indignantly. Drooling. She does not drool over Harry. She raises her wand, "Expelliarmus!" Ron's wand zooms out of his hand and clatters to the floor.

    "Hey!" Ron exclaims, while Hermione gives Miranda a high five. "Harry!" he bellows for help.  "You've got to come over here. I'm outnumbered and they're ganging up on me mate."

    Harry strides over, amused. "Come on Ron, you can take them," he encourages. Then moves closer to Miranda, holding her arm and adjusting it.

Miranda can feel his breath at the back of her neck, giving her goosebumps that trail up her spine. "There," he whispers into her ear, "it should be easier to do the flicking motion now."

    Miranda flushes, yet goosebumps crawl up the back of her neck. "Thank you," she murmurs quietly.

    Hermione and Ron each give Harry a look; he responds with a what did I do face, and saunters away, smiling to himself.

    Ron calls out after him, "Smooth mate, real subtle."

    Hermione raises her eyebrows at Miranda, beckoning her over. "What did I just witness?" she demands, hand son her hips.

    "I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," Miranda tells her, lifting her chin.

    "Yeah right," Hermione rolls her eyes. "I'm not blind. He totally did that on purpose."

    She feels the urge to squeal, "He did, didn't he?" What did that mean? What did any of it mean? She feels Cho shooting daggers at her with her eyes. Oops. Still sore, then. That was a shame. Miranda does feel sorry about that. But what is she feeling sorry for exactly? Harry himself had said that it was silly of her to be jealous. Ugh. And Harry and Ron said women were confusing.

    Again Miranda finds herself alone in the Room of Requirement with Harry. For a while it had been just the four of them remaining, practicing together. However, Ron and Hermione had both left, claiming homework, and very obviously hinting that they were leaving Miranda and Harry alone together.

    Miranda attempts to cast a Patronus, but only a small beam of light comes out. Frustrated, she curses under her breath.

    "You know we're not doing Patronuses til next meeting, right?" says Harry, sidling up beside her.

    "I like to be prepared," responds Miranda, trying the spell a second time but with no promising results.

    "Teacher's pet," he teases, messing with his hair. Miranda pointedly ignores him, lifting her wand again. "Wait," Harry stops her, "change your stance, you have to be more relaxed." He places his hands on her waist. "Now, try. And remember to think of a happy memory.  I know you can do it."

    Miranda closes her eyes, "Expecto Patronum!" A gorgeous doe emerges from the tip of her wand and gallops across the room. She gasps in surprise, "I did it!" She spins around and hugs Harry with elation.

    "I told you," he smiles, gazing at her with pure adoration.

    She releases him from the embrace, quickly realizing his hands are still on her waist, and he has made no indication that he is removing them.

    Harry's eyes are locked with hers in an intense stare, his emerald irises practically molten. The tension between them is so thick that the air practically hums with electricity. Miranda's heart beats wildly in her chest. Harry's so close.

    "I lied," he breathes.

    "What?"

    Harry's lips crash into hers desperately. Their noses brush each other and his tongue is in her mouth, and Miranda can't think. She can't breathe. Harry Potter is kissing her. Really kissing her. Hard and fast and wonderful. A shower of sparks sets off below her abdomen and her thighs clench instinctively. Her hair comes undone, golden tangles falling down around her face. His hands are flush with her waist, and Miranda has never thought much about having Harry's hands on her waist. Okay maybe once or twice. But now they are there and they are strong and large and fit in the space between her hip and her ribcage perfectly. And now she thinks she might die if he ever takes them away. Then he does, but it's to move one to entwine in her hair, and the other to feather up her torso, across the small of her back, pressing her closer.

    "I lied," he repeats firmly, whispering messily against her lips, before his mouth closes over hers again.

    "Good," Miranda murmurs breathlessly between kisses, gripping the collar of his shirt. She's standing on her tiptoes.

    Harry chuckles, breaking apart from her for just a moment, "Good that I lied to you?"

    "No," she shakes her head, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Good because I lied too."

    Harry grins, tilting her chin up for another kiss, "Thank god." Miranda melts into him, sighing. "Wow."

    "What?"

    "That noise you just made." He smiles, tousling his already messy hair, "Well that was a right good bit of snogging wasn't it?" Miranda wrinkles her nose. "What?"

    "Snogging?" Miranda pokes out her tongue. "That's such a weird word."

    Harry drags his teeth along his lower lip, arching an eyebrow, "Are you making fun of my accent again?"

    Miranda lifts a shoulder, "Maybe."

    "Why does that make me want to snog you even more?" Harry marvels.

    "Shut up," Miranda kisses him again, hard. "And no more calling it snogging."

    "Whatever you want," says Harry, gently tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. Harry and Miranda walk out of the Room of Requirement and into the common room, holding hands the entire time. Miranda does not recall the last time she was this happy. Hermione and Ron look up from their reading, well Hermione is reading, Ron is doodling, when Harry and Miranda enter.

    Hermione instantly zeroes in on their intertwined hands, leaping to her feet in excitement. She is practically manic, "You— You— Ron look!"

    "Well, it's about time isn't it?" Ron claps Harry on the back. "Didn't I say you'd get her next time?"

    "You mean after you barged in on us the first time?" Harry says, shooting him a dirty look. Hermione and Miranda snort.

    "No harm, no foul, mate," Ron waves him off airily. "You ended up snogging anyways." Miranda makes a noise of disgust in the back of the throat. "You alright over there, McGonagall?"

    Harry explains, bemused, "She doesn't like the word snog. Typical American."

    "You were just kissing an American," Miranda reminds him coyly.

    "Oh yeah, I forgot." Harry's mouth turns up mischievously as he moves to kiss Miranda. "Give me a refresher, will you?"

    "Aw bloody hell," Ron screws his eyes shut, gagging. "I don't want to see that."

    Miranda pinches herself awake as finally Flitwick finishes up his lecture, instructing them to study quietly on the origins of the Cheering Charm. Miranda and Hermione dutifully open their books, while the boys skive off, messing with one another. Miranda cannot believe that her and Harry are finally together. Though, everyone else is somewhat unsurprised. In fact, Lee Jordan had coked his head and said, "Weren't you already dating?" When he saw them seated with one another in the common room. To this, Fred had responded with, "No, Harry had his head jammed up his arse and couldn't see what was right in front of his face." Miranda had laughed. As had Ron. Harry had not.

    They were trying to keep it as low profile as possible. Harry didn't need any more publicity, and Miranda hadn't told her mother yet. And, of course, there was the matter of Draco.

    Harry leans over and pecks Miranda on the cheek. She swats him away, chastising. "Harry, we're supposed to be working."

    "I'm too distracted," he plays with her hair absentmindedly. Miranda sighs a little, she loves it when he does this.

    "By what?"

    "Flitwick. There's something about the new bowtie he's wearing today that's making me go absolutely mad," Harry wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

    Miranda shakes her head, smiling, "You are going to fail your O.W-" She is cut off mid sentence as she feels Harry's hand on her bare thigh. His fingers are cool and soft against her skin and Miranda shivers at his touch. She inhales sharply, "And just what do you think you're doing?"

    "I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Harry's expression remains neutral as he pretends to read his book intently.

    "Stop it!" she hisses, feeling warm. "I'm serious Harry." But her blushing cheeks betray her.

    "Don't worry Mandy, if I fail my O.W.L.S, I'll just blame you," he teases, nudging her beneath the table with his foot.

    She rolls her eyes. "Oh really, and how do you figure that?" Miranda again attempts to move his hand from her leg.

    "Because," Harry whispers devilishly, "I can't possibly devote any of my attention to class when my gorgeous girlfriend is sitting right next to me. If you think about it, it's entirely your fault."

    Miranda purses her lips, "Idiot."

    "Yes, but I'm your idiot," Harry points out, squeezing her hand.

    Feeling left out, Ron joins in on the conversation. "What are the two of you going on about over there?"

    "Harry was just confessing his love for Flitwick," Miranda tells him mockingly, pressing a hand to her heart. She mimes wiping a tear from her eye, "I'm crushed obviously, but who can blame him?"

    "I'm not surprised," Ron nods sympathetically. "I'm pretty sure Harry was dreaming about him last night. Don't worry mate, I support it 100%."

    Miranda smiles sweetly at Harry, "Oh of course, we'll all be at the wedding."

    Harry glares at Ron and Miranda, "Aren't we supposed to be studying?"

    "Yes," Hermione says, not looking up from her notes.

    "I think we should listen to Hermione." Harry says, making a big show of pulling his quill and parchment out.

    "Oh, so now you want to study?" Miranda smirks. Harry doesn't answer, merely sniffing haughtily in her direction, before pointedly turning away from her.

    Ron bumps Miranda with his shoulder, "Quite the drama queen isn't he?" Miranda snickers.

    Harry shoots him a look that could kill, "I heard that Ron. You are supposed to be on my side!" The bells chime, signaling the end of the period. Miranda has never seen students leave a room so fast. Harry is still giving Miranda the silent treatment as they head through the corridors.

    "Harry, are you really that upset about Ron and I making fun of you?" Harry gives a little hmph and crosses his arms, really playing up the hurt act. He really was a drama queen. A very handsome one, of course. She lips her hand through the crook of hi elbow, "I'll make it up to you, anything."

    This is precisely what Harry has been waiting for. He pounces. "Anything mm?" He throws her a broad grin. Too broad.

    "No— wait— I take it back," says Miranda hurriedly. She knows she's in trouble now.

    "Too late Mandy," Harry crows triumphantly, leaning in to kiss her. "I'm already making a list."

    "Aw geez, again with the—" Ron waves a hand in their direction disgustedly. Hermione elbows him in the ribs, but he does not shut up as she intended. "I mean I'm pleased you're together. I really am. Honest. Anything is better than listening to Harry mope about you, McGonagall. But do you really have to—"

    "Did you say mope?" Miranda is suddenly very interested in what Ron has to say.

    "Oh Merlin yes," Ron nods fervently. "I mean everyday, it was Miranda this and Miranda that, and do you think Miranda likes me?"

    Miranda is delighted at this new piece of information and Harry blushes reproachfully, "I wasn't that bad."

    Hermione finally looks up from her notes, "Harry, I hardly ever agree with Ron, but— you kind of were..." She laughs.

    Harry sulks, and Miranda pinches his cheeks, "You're so cute."

    "I am not cute," Harry huffs, batting her hand away. Except that he is. He's very very very cute. So cute that Miranda almost can't bear it. She checks her watch, rummaging for her schedule in her extraordinarily messy school bag. Crap.

    "What time is the meeting today?" asks Miranda, now seated in the middle of the floor, surrounded by the contents of her bag.

    "In an hour," Hermione answers, bending down to help Miranda pick up her stuff. "Why?"

    Miranda straightens up, "I must've forgotten my schedule when Harry and were studying outside."

    "Studying or snogging?" Ron mutters under his breath

    Miranda punches him in the shoulder, "Studying, Ron!"

    "Ow!" Ron cries out, just as Harry shakes his head at him with a smirk, sneakily  mouthing snogging over Miranda's head, hoping she can't see him. She sees him, and promptly steps on his foot. "Ow!"

    "Right," Miranda decides, "I'll go and get it now before D.A." And with this, she kisses Harry on the cheek, "See you there."

    Now all she has to do is retrace her steps. Miranda loses things quite frequently, so this is a common occurrence. Usually, they end top being right in front of her face. She cannot even count the amount of times she's been scouring the dorm room for her socks or her bracelet or her textbook, and Hermione finds it within seconds, wordlessly handing it over. One time, she thought she'd lost her wand and was frantic searching for it, in full panic mode, only for Harry to tell her after two hours of frenzy that it was on top of her head. She'd used it to secure her topknot earlier because she hadn't had a hair tie and then subsequently forgot it was there. Harry liked to say she'd lose her head if it wasn't attached to her body. Miranda usually hit him when he did though.

    Finally, she finds it, tucked away behind the pillar they'd been studying near. Okay fine. The pillar she'd been pressed up against, courtesy of Harry James Potter.  As she is on her way back, flipping through her very crowded planner morosely, she bumps into a familiar face.

    "Miranda!" Draco exclaims. "I was just looking for you."

    Miranda is still cross with him after their last chat, and is in no mood for any of Draco's crap today. "What?" Miranda snipes. "Have I violated one of the toad's thousand decrees? Inquisitorial Squad out to get me?"

    Draco frowns, looking slightly hurt, "What? No— wait—" He pauses, his expression suddenly angry, "Have they been giving you shit? I told Parkinson and Zabini to leave you alone, they know—"

    "No," Miranda cuts him off tiredly. "I mean— Pansy always gives me shit. And Blaise is actually— well, he's the only one who treats me like an actual human being."

    Draco relaxes. "He's smart that's why. Blaise knows I'll pound anyone who touches you into pulp. He knows you're off limits to them."

    "Well— that's— that's nice of you, I guess..." Miranda presses her forefinger to her temple. "Thank you— why were you looking for me?"

    He swallows, not meeting her eye. Draco shuffles, rocking back and forth on the balls od his feet, a sure signal that something is wrong. She recognizes that guilty look on his face. "Look," he mutters lowly, "wherever you're going today. Whatever Potter has you doing, just— don't. Alright?" He stares at her, completely serious, "Don't. Okay, Miranda?"

    "Draco what are you—"

    He grabs her wrist urgently, "Please listen to me, Miranda. Potter will only get you in trouble. I don't want you involved in what's going to..." Draco trails off shiftily.   

    "What's going on Draco?" Miranda questions, disturbed by his anxiousness. "What's happening today?"

    "I can't—" Draco looks pained. "I can't tell you. Just— don't go. Promise me you won't."

    Miranda shakes her head, "Tell me what's going on. I'm not promising anything until you tell me what's going on." What does he think? That she's just going to abandon all of her friends, throwing them to the wolves. What fi he's lying to get her not to go? To pull her farther away from harry— from all of them? 

    "Please, Miranda," Draco is practically begging. "Trust me."

    She struggles for a moment, torn. "I— I have to go." Miranda walks hurriedly across the bridge. "Don't try and follow me, Draco!"

    His calls to her retreating back fall to deaf ears, lost to the wind, "This isn't my fault! I tried! You can't blame this on me..."

    If it had not been for the D.A. lessons, Miranda thinks she would be extremely unhappy. She sometimes feels that she is living for the hours she spends in the Room of Requirement, working hard but thoroughly enjoying herself at the same time, swelling with pride. They have finally started work on Patronuses, which everybody has been very keen to practice, though as Harry kept reminding them, producing a Patronus in the middle of a brightly lit classroom when they were not under threat was very different to producing it when confronted by something like a dementor.

    "Oh, don't be such a killjoy," says Hermione brightly, watching her silvery otter shaped Patronus soar around the Room of Requirement during their last lesson before Easter. "They're so pretty!"

    "They're not supposed to be pretty, they're supposed to protect you," says Harry patiently. "What we really need is a boggart or something; that's how I learned, I had to conjure a Patronus while the boggart was pretending to be a dementor —"

    "I'm trying," says Neville miserably, who is trying so hard his round face was actually shining with sweat.

    "Harry, I think I'm doing it!" yells Seamus, who has been brought along to his first ever D.A. meeting by Dean. "Look — ah — it's gone. . . . But it was definitely something hairy, Harry!"

    Miranda's Patronus, a shining silver doe, was gamboling around her. "They are sort of nice, aren't they?" she says, looking at it fondly. Her spat with Draco is easily forgotten in here, in her blanket of happiness. With Harry looking at her every few seconds.The door of the Room of Requirement opens and then closes again; Miranda looks around to see who had entered, but there does not seem to be anybody there. It is a few moments before she realizes that the people close to the door have fallen silent. Next thing  she knows, Dobby is tugging insistently at Harry's robes. The elf's eyes are wide with terror and he is shaking. The members of the D.A.  have all fallen silent now: Everybody in the room is watching Dobby. The few Patronuses people have managed to conjure fade away into silver mist, leaving the room looking much darker than before.

    "Harry Potter, sir . . ." squeaks the elf, trembling from head to foot, "Harry Potter, sir . . . Dobby has come to warn you . . . but the house-elves have been warned not to tell . . ." A warning? Miranda freezes. Was this what Draco had been talking about? Oh no.

    "What's happened, Dobby?" Harry asks, grabbing the elf's tiny arm and holding him away from anything with which he might seek to hurt himself.

    "Harry Potter . . . she . . . she . . ."

    "Who's 'she,' Dobby?" inquires Miranda, filled with dread. She already knew the answer. The elf looks up at them, slightly cross-eyed, and mouths wordlessly.

    "Umbridge?"  Harry is horrified. "What about her? Dobby — she hasn't found out about this — about us — about the D.A.?" Miranda reads the answer in the elf's stricken face. "Is she coming?" Harry asks very quietly.

    Dobby lets out a howl, and begins beating his bare feet hard on the floor. "Yes, Harry Potter, yes!"

    Harry straightens up and looks around at the motionless, terrified people gazing at the thrashing elf. "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?" Harry bellows. "RUN!"

    They all pelt toward the exit at once, forming a scrum at the door, then people burst through; Miranda can hear them sprinting along the corridors and prays that Draco is not among the members storming their safe haven. Though she knows, deep down, that the only explanation for him knowing about it— is that he must be here. Striving to capture them all. Her fears are confirmed not a moment later, when Harry lets out a horrible yell, "AAARGH!" He falls spectacularly, skidding along on his front for six feet before coming to a halt. Someone behind him was laughing.  Miranda does not have to look to see who it is.

     "Trip Jinx, Potter!" Draco Malfoy cackles. "Hey, Professor — PROFESSOR! I've got one!"

    Umbridge comes bustling around the far corner, breathless but wearing a delighted smile. "It's him!" she says jubilantly at the sight of Harry on the floor. "Excellent, Draco, excellent, oh, very good — fifty points to Slytherin! I'll take him from here. . . . Stand up, Potter!" Miranda has never seen Unbridge so joyful. Draco won't look at her. Umbridge seizes his arm in a vicelike grip and turns, beaming broadly to Draco. "You hop along and see if you can round up anymore of them, Draco," she says. "Tell the others to look in the library — anybody out of breath — check the bathrooms, Miss Parkinson can do the girls' ones — off you go — and you," she adds in her softest, most dangerous voice, as Malfoy waltzes away. "You can come with me to the headmaster's office, Potter."