Miranda, Hermione, and Ginny laugh as Mateo loses at Wizard's Chess for the hundredth time.

"Better luck next time, McGonagall." Ron crows triumphantly.

Grimmauld Place has considerably brightened over the summer, as Sirius is in much better spirits, now that he has Miranda and Mateo to care for. Kreacher is— well, Kreacher is Kreacher. Besides, fixing the dark, depressing house up was exactly what Miranda had needed to take her mind off of...

The Weasley's and Hermione had arrived two weeks ago, as Death Eater attacks continued to mount, Dumbledore thought it best to keep the Order all in one place.

Mateo has become fast friends with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, and Miranda was delighted he was fitting in so seamlessly. Him and Ron bonded quickly, as the lack of male presence in the household caused Miranda, Ginny, and Hermione to gang up on Ron as frequently as possible. It was self preservation really. Also, Mateo was one of the only ones who'd still play chess with Ron.

Hermione has also taken a liking to the boy, eager to have someone as interested in school as she is. He's even taking Runes with her next year. Miranda had discovered early on that years of being homeschooled by Severus Snape and having basically no company except books have turned her brother into a dork of massive proportions. In fact, once over the summer, her and Ron had witnessed Hermione and Mateo nearly faint from excitement when a new book on curses came out by one of their favorite authors.

A flutter of wings outside the window distracts Miranda from her thoughts, the sharp rap on the window pane jolting her back to the present. Hermione gasps, leaping up from her curled up position at the foot of Miranda's bed, nearly toppling the chess board in the process.  "Do you think it's our O.W.L. results?" asks Hermione anxiously.

Ginny hops up to open the window, shaking her head, "No, it's only Hedwig."

"Hedwig? Miranda snaps to attention, glancing up. Her heart leaps hopefully.  "But that means—" The door to their room opens with a flourish, a familiar figure appearing in the doorway. "Harry!" Miranda scrambles to her feet, running headfirst at him. She catapults straight into his arms, kissing him full on the mouth. His lips meet hers, and Miranda sighs into the familiarity.

"Well, hello to you too," Harry grins, returning her embrace with strong arms. Stronger than she remembers. Once Harry has set her feet back on the ground, Miranda steps back to take a good look at him

He's grown several inches taller, his chest broader, jaw more defiined. And his perpetually messy hair is longer at the ends, closer to how it had been in fourth year. She has to admit she likes his hair a little long, more wild. As if reading her mind, Harry runs a hand through his hair, and Miranda beams at him.

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione hasten over and give Harry hugs, welcoming him inside.

"Good to see you, mate," Ron clasp him on the back firmly.

Hermione throws her arms around him, "We're ever so glad to have you back, Harry."

Did you really have to do that?

Get out of my head, Mateo.

I mean, was it really necessary?

I'll do it again if you don't shut up.

Mateo scowls at his sister, struggling for a moment, and then begrudgingly shakes Harry's hand, "Welcome back." Miranda flashes him a grateful smile.

Thank you.

Hmmph.

After pulling a chair up for Harry, Miranda plops down on the rug next to Ginny, leaning back against his legs. "When did you get here?"

"Few minutes ago," says Harry, threading his fingers through her hair.
"Were the Muggles all right?" asks Ron concernedly.  "Did they treat you okay?"
"Same as usual," says Harry, as Hermione perched herself on the edge of her bed, "they didn't talk to me much, but I like it better that way. How're you, Hermione?"

"Oh, I'm fine," says Hermione, waving him off. "So, what's been going on?"

"Nothing much, I've just been stuck at my aunt and uncle's, haven't I?"

"Come off it!" says Ron. "You've been off with Dumbledore!"

"It wasn't that exciting. He just wanted me to help him persuade this old teacher to come out of retirement. His name's Horace Slughorn."

Miranda and Mateo share a brief look, knowing exactly what Harry is talking about.

Looks like he got Slughorn.

I told you he could do it.

Whatever.

Harry peers down at Miranda strangely, "Are you okay?"

"Of course," she reassures him brightly. "Fine, why?"

"You were just staring into space," he tells her, a note of suspicion in his voice. Miranda curses internally. She really has to get better at keeping her expression neutral when her and Mateo are communicating. Hermione's caught her at least three times already. "You looked pretty out of it." Harry adds, brow furrowing.

"I'm just thinking about O.W.L.S," says Miranda airily. Deflecting the attention away from her as best she can. She prays it is convincing enough.

Liar, liar pants on fire.

Do you have an off button?

He's going to know if you're not more careful.

I'm sorry I have an attentive boyfriend.

You could break up with him.

Nice try.

"Did Slughorn seem like he'll be a good teacher?" prompts Hermione, propping her chin on her hand.

"Dunno," says Harry, shrugging. "He can't be worse than Umbridge, can he?"

"I know someone who's worse than Umbridge," Ginny laments darkly, her face screwed into a permanent scowl.

"What's up with you?" Ron asks.

"It's her," says Ginny, laying her head in Miranda's lap morosely "She's driving me mad."

"What's she done now?" hums Miranda sympathetically.
Ginny grimaces, "It's the way she talks to me — you'd think I was about three!"

"I know," says Hermione, dropping her voice. "She's so full of herself."
Ron says angrily, "Can't you two lay off her for five seconds?"

"Oh, that's right, defend her," snaps Ginny. "We all know you can't get enough of her."

Harry, who has looked rather lost the entire conversation, says, "Who are you — ?"

But his question is answered before he can finish it. The bedroom door flies open again. The young woman is standing in the doorway, a woman of such breathtaking beauty that the room seems to have become strangely airless. She is tall and willowy with long waist length, platinum hair and appears to emanate a faint, silvery glow. Fleur Delacour is a vision.

" 'Arry," she says in a throaty voice. "Eet 'as been too long!" She sweeps over the threshold, embracing Harry. Miranda's forehead wrinkles, ever so slightly. Although she does not carry the same disdain for Fleur as Hermione and Ginny, it is still hard seeing such gorgeous woman embracing her very attractive, famous boyfriend. Especially seeing the effect she has on him. All men really. It is absurd. "You remember my sister, Gabrielle? She never stops talking about 'Arry Potter. She will be delighted to see you again."

"Oh . . . is she here too?" Harry croaks, and Miranda rolls her eyes.

"No, no, silly boy," says Fleur with a tinkling laugh, "I mean next summer, when we — but do you not know? Bill and I are going to be married!"

"Oh," says Harry blankly. "Wow. Er — congratulations!" She swoops down upon him and kissed him on both cheeks again. Miranda shares a disgruntled look with Hermione, insecurity creeping upon her, unbidden. Fleur is perfectly nice, she tells herself. I'm sure she's lovely. This is jealousy. She loves Bill. She's not trying to steal Harry away.

Wouldn't mind if she did.

Go away, Matt.

"Bill is very busy at ze moment, working very 'ard, and I only work part-time at Gringotts for my English, so he brought me 'ere for a few days to get to know 'is family properly. I was so pleased to hear you would be coming — zere isn't much to do 'ere. Well — enjoy, 'Arry!" With these words she turns Mirandafully and seems to float out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
"Mum hates her," says Ginny quietly, once Fleur is gone. "She thinks they've hurried into the engagement."
"They've known each other a year," says Ron, who looks oddly groggy and is staring at the closed door. Hermione huffs loudly. Ron still seems slightly punch-drunk; he is shaking his head experimentally like a dog trying to rid its ears of water.

"Don't you get used to her if she's staying in the same house?" Harry asks.

"Well, you do," says Ron, "but if she jumps out at you unexpectedly, like then . . ."

"It's pathetic," says Hermione furiously, striding away from Ron as far as she can go and turning to face him with her arms folded once she has reached the wall. Miranda hides a smile behind her hand.

"You don't really want her around forever?" Ginny asks Ron incredulously. When he merely shrugs, she says, "Well, Mum's going to put a stop to it if she can, I bet you anything."

"How's she going to manage that?" asks Harry

"She keeps trying to get Tonks round for dinner. I think she's hoping Bill will fall for Tonks instead. I hope he does, I'd much rather have her in the family."

"Yeah, that'll work," says Ron sarcastically. "Listen, no bloke in his right mind's going to fancy Tonks when Fleur's around. I mean, Tonks is okay-looking when she isn't doing stupid things to her hair and her nose, but —"

"She's a damn sight nicer than Phlegm,'' says Ginny

"Oh, don't call her that," Miranda chastises, as Hermione snorts. Though privately, she would much prefer to have Tonks around too.

"And she's more intelligent, she's an Auror!" says Hermione from the corner. Miranda opens her mouth to defend Fleur, but Harry beats her to the punch.

"Fleur's not stupid, she was good enough to enter the Triwizard Tournament," says Harry staunchly.

"Not you as well!" says Hermione bitterly.

"I suppose you like the way she says ' 'Arry,' do you?" asks Miranda scornfully, suddenly bristling with envy. She hadn't missed the way his eyes had gone all glazed over when Fleur had kissed him.

"No," says Harry desperately, wishing he hadn't spoken, "I was just saying, Phlegm — I mean, Fleur —" He glances between the three females nervously, all of them eyeing him with blazing eyes and folded arms. In a sudden bout of camaraderie, Mateo shakes his head at Harry.

"Stop while you're ahead," he advises. "It's a useless topic with them."

Ron grunts in agreement, wary, "Almost got my eyes clawed out yesterday when I told them I didn't think she meant anything by it when she told Hermione she was wearing a nice skirt."

"It was the way she said it, Ron!" Hermione says hotly.

"We've told you dozens of times, Weasley," says Miranda, glaring. "Honestly, what is so difficult to understand—"

Mateo groans inwardly, "Not this conversation again."

"Ron brought it up!"

Ron buries his face in his hands, "I can't go through this one more time. I'm swear—I'm going to tell Kreacher to smash that giant creepy vase over my head."

"Is it our fault that you can't grasp a simple—" Miranda pauses, interrupted by the sound of laughter. It's Harry. Harry is laughing, eyes bright. Smiling stupidly at them. "What?"

"Nothing," Harry grins. "I missed you guys."

The door opens again and Mrs. Weasley pops her head in. "Ginny," she whispers, "come downstairs and help me with the lunch."

"I'm talking to this lot!" says Ginny, outraged.
"Now!" says Mrs. Weasley, and withdraws.
"She only wants me there so she doesn't have to be alone with Phlegm!" says Ginny crossly. She swings her long red hair around in a very good imitation of Fleur and prances across the room with her arms held aloft like a ballerina. "You lot had better come down quickly too," she says as she leaves.

"Did Dumbledore stay long when he brought you?" questions Miranda. He's been communicating with her and Mateo all summer by means of Snape. Miranda has seen far too much of the greasy professor.

"I don't think so," he replies. "That reminds me, he's going to be giving me private lessons this year," says Harry conversationally.

Ron chokes slightly, and Hermione gasps. Mateo and Miranda are decidedly unfazed. They are supposed to meet with both Snape and Dumbledore this year in order to train their ability. Dumbledore has been very vague, but he's hinted at some sort of important mission. A greater purpose.
"You kept that quiet!" says Ron.
"I only just remembered," says Harry honestly. "He told me last night."
"Blimey . . . private lessons with Dumbledore!" says Ron, looking awestruck.

"I wonder what he'll teach you, Harry? Really advanced defensive magic, probably . . . powerful countercurses . . . anti-jinxes . . .and evasive enchantments generally," concludes Hermione. She spins to Miranda, "Did he mention what you'll be doing in yours?"

"Yours?" Harry cocks his head, This is news to him. "You too?"

"Matt and I," Miranda explains. She feels a bit guilty that he's the last to know. "He told us end of last term."

Harry's brow furrows, "You didn't tell me..."

"I— I know," she says, biting her bottom lip. "Dumbledore said I couldn't until he told you about yours."

"You knew about mine?" Harry murmurs quietly. Miranda ducks her head, sheepish.

"Well— sort of—"

You're drowning here, dude

I'm going to kill you. I will strangle you right here and now.

"Before I did?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Miranda apologizes, squeezing his hand. "I really did want to tell you. It's just— Dumbledore he—"

"Right."

There is a horrible, awful silence. Ron coughs awkwardly, trying in vain to diffuse the tension. Harry's green eyes are trained on Miranda, his gaze locked with hers. Miranda squirms uncomfortably.

"I wonder when O.W.L. results are coming out," Hermione finally says, very loudly, changing the subject as deftly as possible.

"Can't be long now, it's been a month," says Ron.

"Hang on," says Harry, as another part of last night's conversation comes back to him. "I think Dumbledore said our O.W.L. results would be arriving today!"

"Today?" shrieks Hermione. "Today? But why didn't you — oh my God — you should have said —" She leaps to her feet, dashing out of the room and down the stairs. "I'm going to see whether any owls have come. . . ." Miranda, Mateo, Ron, and Harry follow her down to the kitchen, lightly amused at her frantic state. Ginny has never looked happier to see them

"What took you so long?" she hisses, latching on to Miranda's wrist like it is the last life raft on a sinking ship. "I've been trapped in the bloody crosshairs."

Meanwhile, Hermione is pacing, walking round and round the kitchen, twisting her fingers together. "Mrs. Weasley, you're quite, quite sure no owls have arrived this morning?"

"Yes, dear, I'd have noticed," says Mrs. Weasley patiently. "But it's barely nine, there's still plenty of time. . . ."

"I know I messed up Ancient Runes," mutters Hermione feverishly, "I definitely made at least one serious mistranslation. And the Defense Against the Dark Arts practical was no good at all. I thought Transfiguration went all right at the time, but looking back —"

"Hermione, will you shut up, you're not the only one who's nervous!" barks Ron. "And when you've got your eleven 'Out- standing' O.W.L.s . . ."

"Don't, don't, don't!" says Hermione, flapping her hands hysterically. "I know I've failed everything!"

"What happens if we fail?" Harry asks. But Harry's words are drowned in a scream. Hermione is pointing through the kitchen window. Four black specks are clearly visible in the sky, growing larger all the time.

"They're definitely owls," says Ron hoarsely, jumping up to join Hermione at the window.

"And there are four of them," says Miranda, hastening to her other side along with Harry.

"One for each of us," says Hermione in a terrified whisper. "Oh no . . . oh no . . . oh no . . ." She grips both Miranda and Ron tightly around the elbows.

The owls are flying directly at Grimmauld Place, three handsome tawnies, each of which, it became clear as they flew lower over the path leading up to the house, was carrying a large square envelope.

"Oh no!" squeals Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley squeezes past them and opens the kitchen window. One, two, three, four owls soar through it and land on the table in a neat line. All three of them lift their right legs.

Miranda moves forward. The letter addressed to her is tied to the leg of the owl in the middle. She unties it with fumbling fingers. To her left Harry is trying to detach his own results; to her right, Hermione's hands were shaking so much she was making her whole owl tremble.

Miranda breathes a sigh of relief when she sees hers.

Potions- O

Transfiguration- O

Defense Against the Dark Arts- O

Care for Magical Creatures- A

Astronomy- A

Charms- O

Divination- A

History of Magic- E

Herbology- E

She look at her friends and finds they are similarly pleased. Harry looks slightly disappointed by his grade in Potions but otherwise is fine. Hermione just clutches her letter silently.

"Hermione?" says Miranda tentatively, for Hermione still hasn't turned around. "How did you do?"

"I — not bad," says Hermione in a small voice.

"Oh, come off it," says Ron, striding over to her and whipping her results out of her hand.

"Hey!"

"Yep — nine 'Outstandings' and one 'Exceeds Expectations' at Defense Against the Dark Arts." He looked down at her, half-amused, half-exasperated. "You're actually disappointed, aren't you?"

Hermione shakes her head, but Harry laughs.

"Well, we're N.E.W.T. students now!" grins Ron.

They remain within the confines of Grimmauld Place over the next few weeks. Miranda spends most of her days playing three-a-side Quidditch in the nearby field. Hermione, Matt, and Ginny on one team, and Ron, Miranda, and Harry on the other. Miranda is barely passable at Quidditch, while Ginny is brilliant. Hermione is plain dreadful, and Mateo is excellent so it matched up rather nicely. It would have been a happy, peaceful holiday had it not been for the stories of disappearances, odd accidents, even of deaths now appearing almost daily in the Prophet. Their letters and booklists arrive from Hogwarts. And Harry's includes a surprise: He has been made Quidditch Captain.

"That gives you equal status with prefects!" cried Hermione happily. "You can use our special bathroom now and everything!"

"That's wonderful Harry!" Miranda exclaims, hugging him.

"Brilliant," Ron jokes, "now you can let me in."

"Let me know when try outs are," Mateo pipes up from the back of the kitchen, leaning against the counter.

"You play Quidditch?" Ginny, who has been making herself a sandwich, looks up, surprised. "Not just for fun?"

"Quidditch is always fun," replies Mateo with a grin that Miranda does not recognize. "Though I'm flattered you thought I was that good recreationally."

Ginny smiles, retorting, "I never said you were good."

"What about you?" Mateo pointedly ignores her, a mischievous gleam in his eye. "You play just for fun?"

"You've seen me play," Ginny arches an eyebrow. "What d'you think?"

"What do you play?"

"I'm a Chaser," she answers, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. "What's your position?"

Mateo smirks, voice so low that only Miranda, who is half listening to Ron, Hermione, and Harry's conversation around her can make it out. "That depends. What position do you want me in?" Miranda inhales about half of the water she's just taken a sip of, spluttering so hard her face is red.

"I'm a Beater." She hears her brother add, as she continues to hack.

"Are you alright?" asks Harry, pounding her on the back.

Miranda's eyes are watering and her ears are burning. Disgusting. She shudders, managing, "Yup. Fine."

She has a boyfriend

I haven't the faintest idea what you're referring to.

"Well, I don't suppose we can put off a trip to Diagon Alley much longer now you've got these," sighs Mrs. Weasley, looking down Ron's booklist. "We'll go Saturday as long as your father doesn't have to go into work again. I'm not going there without him."

"Mum, d'you honestly think You-Know-Who's going to be hiding behind a bookshelf in Flourish and Blotts?" sniggers Ron.

Mrs. Weasley fires up at once. "If you think security's a laughing mat- ter you can stay behind and I'll get your things myself —"

"No, I wanna come, I want to see Fred and George's shop!" says Ron hastily.

"Then you just buck up your ideas, young man, before I decide you're too immature to come with us!" says Mrs. Weasley angrily. "And that goes for returning to Hogwarts as well!"

Sirius swans into the room then, accompanied by a haggard Remus, "Your mother is quite right." Then under this breath, "Besides, I think he's such more likely to be lurking in the candy shoppe." He sends a wink Ron's way, "Even dark maniacs indulge once in a while."

Saturday comes and goes, and before Miranda knows it, Hogwarts is starting back up again the next day. They go to bed early that night, Miranda tingling with the excitement of seeing something other than this house for once.

Maybe I'll sneak out later tonight and find Harry. Miranda thinks quietly as she settles into bed.

You will not.

Damn, I forgot you could hear me through the shared walls

The joys of adjoining rooms.

The train station is bustling as usual, but with a greater sense of security. Miranda and her friends had been escorted to the platform by several Order members. Grateful to be free from all the watchful eyes, the girls settle in to one compartment, and the boys another. Hermione will have to leave shortly, of course, to patrol, but Miranda is happy to have her even for a few moments.

"I can't believe this is our second to last year at Hogwarts!" Hermione exhales, opening the newest edition of the Daily Prophet. Miranda's stomach turns when she reads some of the words in bold. More Death Eater Attacks. After their visit to Diagon Alley, in which Harry had apparently had a run in with Draco while the rest of them were off in Fred and George's new store, Harry is now utterly convinced that Draco is a Death Eater. He won't stop beleaguering the topic either, despite Ron, Hermione, and Miranda voicing their skepticism. Whatever happened between them last year, Miranda can't imagine he'd— he wouldn't. Right?

"I know," Miranda agrees, "but I'm just glad Matt is going to be there for these last two years."

Ginny's lips twitch ever so slightly, just enough for Miranda to notice. "What?" Her eyes narrow.

"Nothing," Ginny shakes her head, scratching her nose absentmindedly. She glances at Miranda coyly, remarking, "It's just—your brother's really cute."

Miranda gags, horrified. "EW!" she retches. "No, he is not!"

Hermione giggles, "He's not really my type... but yeah...Miranda he kind of is." She laughs even harder when she see the look on Miranda's features, it is one of complete disgust. "He's got that whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going on."

"Definitely," Ginny agrees wholeheartedly, snickering herself.

Miranda plugs her ears, vehemently opposed as she retches, "I'm not listening to this anymore. Ew, ew, ew!" Miranda throws a jelly bean at Ginny, while Hermione collapses into giggles.

When they arrive at Hogwarts, Dumbledore immediately pulls Mateo aside and tells him he will sort him separately. The Great Hall is decorated as usual with floating candles that make the plates below glitter and glow. They take their usual seats at the Gryffindor table, and Miranda feels a pang in her chest when she realizes how strangely empty it feels without the presence of Fred and George. Ron settles into his seat across from Hermione.

"Where's Harry?" whispers Miranda, frowning worriedly at Ron.

Ron shrugs, "I thought he caught up with you lot after I went out for patrol duty."

A nagging pit of dread begins to fester in Miranda's abdomen, and she takes several deep breaths. He's fine. She reassures herself, stilling her trembling hands. Everything is fine.

Her worries are not assuaged until much later however, when Harry finally marches through the open doors. For some reason, he is walking very fast, squeezing himself in between Hermione and Miranda with quite a bit of unnecessary force. He's covered in blood, and Miranda's jaw drops.

"Where've you — blimey, what've you done to your face?" says Ron, goggling at him along with everyone else in the vicinity.

"Why, what's wrong with it?" says Harry, grabbing a spoon and squinting at his distorted reflection.

"You're covered in blood!" says Miranda, peering at him closely. "Come here —" she grabs him boy the sleeve of his robes, raising her wand. "Tergeo!" She mumbles, siphoning off the dried blood.

"Thank you, love," says Harry, feeling his now clean face. "How's my nose looking?"

"Normal," says Miranda anxiously, lacing her fingers through his. "Why shouldn't it? Harry, what happened? We've been terrified!" She spies a small cut just above his lip.

"Later," Harry mutters. And Miranda knows at once by the tone of his voice to leave it be until they are in a more private setting. This leaves her mind to fret about other things, like Mateo's impending Sorting.  What if he isn't in Gryffindor? What will she do? Worse, what if he's in Slytherin with— Miranda chews on the inner corner of her cheek, hardly touching her dinner.

"He'll get in to Gryffindor, don't worry," Harry murmurs in her ear, almost as if he's read her mind.

Miranda looks around at him, mouth turning up slightly, "Was I that obvious?"

Harry chuckles, wincing a little as he does so. "Mandy you missed your plate by several inches, nearly stabbing Neville's hand with your fork, and didn't bat an eye."

Miranda groans, dropping her head to the table, "Poor Neville."

"He'll get over it," Harry lays his head on her shoulder, shamelessly batting his eyes at her. "However I won't get over it if you continue to ignore me all night." He gazes up at her imploringly.

Miranda bows her head, kissing him lightly, "Better?"

"Much," says Harry happily, beaming. Just then, Mateo re-enters the Great Hall, walking towards them.

Guess I'm going to be bunking with your boyfriend

You're in?!

Where dwell the brave of heart

"Do you think he's a Gryffindor?" Hermione asks as Mateo nears.

"He's in," Miranda says confidently.

"You think so?" Ron counters. "Five galleons he's not."

"You're on, Weasley."

Well that's not really fair is it.

Hey, he made the suggestion.

"So?" Miranda looks up at Mateo expectantly

"I'm in Gryffindor."

"I knew it!" Miranda cheers, poking her tongue out at Ron. "Cough it up, Ronald."

Ron scowls. "That's not fair!" he complains. "You guys probably have like some sort of weird twin telepathy."

I didn't think he was the smart one

He has his moments

Miranda and Mateo grin as Matt sits down between Ron and Ginny

"Welcome to Gryffindor!" Hermione says.

The Great Hall is filled with much joy as the students merrily eat and chat, the warmth that glows from within so powerful that for a moment, Miranda can forget about Voldemort and the impending war, and her mom, and the safety of her family and friends.

"Before I forget," Mateo adds, through a mouthful of shepherd's pie, "Dumbledore wants to meet with you Harry, tomorrow at seven."

And our first lesson with him and Severus is Friday.

You should really call him Professor now.

Right.

At this, Miranda comes crashing back to reality. She knows that Mateo and her have a duty, a mission to help stop Voldemort, she also knows that Harry has a duty too, and she knows that her and Harry's tasks don't exactly coincide. Both are dangerous, and she doesn't like to think about the future just yet.

It'll be okay.

Matt...

I know. I know. Get out of your head.

"Why does that blond boy keep staring over here?" Mateo questions, suspicious.

There is an extremely awkward silence. Miranda avoids eye contact with everyone seated around her, including Harry. A weight presses down in her chest, and she swallows it down. He's not your friend anymore. Don't think about him. He doesn't have power over you anymore.

"You mean Malfoy," Harry finally answers, voice filled with disdain and the purest of hatred.

"As in Lucius Malfoy?" Mateo asks, spitting the name out like it was diseased.

"The one and only," Harry confirms flatly. "That's his son Draco. A real prize if you ask me." He scoffs bitterly, "Like father like son. Though you should probably talk to Miranda about that."

"Harry," Miranda says sharply, whipping her head around. Her eye flash.

"What d'you mean I should talk to Miranda about that?" Mateo rounds on her, accusatory.

Miranda's hands curl into her fists, as she dig her fingernails into the palms of her hands. "He— I—we were friends," Miranda manages with much difficulty. She steels herself, the words stinging as she says them. "He was my best friend even before Hogwarts. Mom and his mom are—were friends, but we had a— a falling out." She casts her eyes downward at the table, suddenly very interested in the mahogany grain.

"A falling out?" Harry repeats distastefully. His tone is hard, unforgiving. Miranda sees his cheeks coloring at the memory. "You tried to talk to him and you came back bleeding."

"You what?!" cries Mateo, slamming his fist down on the table and causing the plates to rattle on the impact.

"It wasn't like it sounds," protests Miranda. She bites down on her lip feverishly, nearly drawing blood. "He was different. Or— I thought he was..."

"I heard that he's on track to become a Death Eater," says Mateo angrily, not listening to her anymore. He is only adding fuel to the fire.

"I knew it!" Harry exclaims heatedly. "He was acting so weird about his sleeves in Madam Malkins— and bragging like a dolt on the train. He has to be covering up the Dark Mark."

"Hold on," Miranda interrupts. Something about what Harry has said has struck her. "When did you see D— I mean Malfoy, on the train?"

"When he gave me this," Harry gestures to the split lip Miranda had noted earlier. Apparently, he's ready to talk about it now. "Also the reason for all the blood you cleaned up," he informs her, jaw tightening.

"Well," Mateo chimes in decisively, "I for one don't think Miranda should be hanging out with this tosser. I say good riddance!"

"Wait just a second—" Miranda starts, indignant. They're both talking about her like she's not here. It's her life, for fuck's sake. They can't just ignore her.

"Finally something we agree on," says Harry, shaking Mateo's hand proudly.

I like this guy.

Oh, now you like him.

The boys continue to bash Malfoy as they retire to the common room, and Miranda looks on with exasperation.

Lavender Brown waves at them from the corner, batting her eyelashes at Ron. Miranda looks over at Hermione worriedly. While her friend has never explicitly told her about her feelings for the red haired boy, Miranda could tell from the first time she met them that there was something there.

Ron and Hermione eh?

How did you—?

Mateo taps the side of his head sagely.

"What classes do we have tomorrow?" Harry asks.

Hermione replies instantly, "Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, and Potions."

"Not us mate," Ron grins, leaning back in his chair. "We get a free during Potions."

"I still can't believe Snape is teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry shakes his head in disbelief, huffing.

"He is a great wizard," says Mateo quietly.

"Blimey, I forgot you lived with him," Ron grimaces, as though he is offended by the very thought. "What was that like?"

"Not too bad actually,"  Mateo tells them honestly. "Severus isn't exactly the warmest, but he made sure I was fed and clothed, educated."

"Does he shower?" Ron quips, smirking.

"Ron!" Hermione scolds.

The friends burst out laughing and their conversations continue late into the night. Yawning, they all head up to bed.

Harry gives Miranda a quick peck on the lips as Mateo heads up the stairs. Once he had safely disappeared, Harry pulls her in for a much deeper one.

"Still scared of my brother?" she teases, smiling against his mouth.

"Hey," says Harry, offended. "Would you prefer your boyfriend alive or dead?" he challenges.

"I don't know I have to think about--" Miranda taps her chin, eyes daring. He cuts her off with another firm kiss, this one so dizzying she feels a bit weak in her knees.

"Goodnight, Mandy."

"Goodnight."