december 25th, 1994

_______________________________________________

Miranda sighs happily, peering out her frosty window pane at the gorgeous, snow blanketed grounds. She loves winter. Loves snow. She cant get enough of it. After growing up where she did, it's a nice change of pace.

    Snow is just so— so beautiful. Whimsical. Breathtaking. Icicles hanging on eaves like jewels or pixies, and sparkling frost dusting everything with a soft glow. To Miranda, snow was magic.

    The only thing that would make this more perfect was if she had a date to the upcoming Yule Ball, a tournament tradition. It seemed everyone had already paired up. It sorta felt like she was the only girl in Hogwarts who hadn't been asked yet. Except for Hermione, that is. Solidarity sister!

    Of course, what she couldn't say to herself was that she was really waiting on someone in particular to ask her...but he...hadn't yet— or didn't want to. She silently reprimands herself, trying to clear any and all thoughts about a certain messy haired boy from her mind.

    "Morning, Miranda," Hermione greets her, "I was just heading down to Hagrid's, want to join me?"

    "Sure, let's go," Miranda hops into her snug snow boots and waltzes out of the common room arm in arm with Hermione.

    They pass a group of Durmstrang boys drilling exercises in the snow covered ground, led by none other than Viktor Krum, who winks at Hermione as they saunter past.

    Hermione blushes fiercely, as Miranda gapes at her in astonishment, "Did- did Krum just wink at you?"

    "Shhh," Hermione hushes her, glowing red,  "it's not a big deal."

    "Hermione Jean Granger you've been holding out on me!" Miranda swats her across the arm with a forest green mittened hand. She puts her hands on her hips, "What is going on there?" Miranda pokes her.

    Hermione lifts her chin primly, trying not to betray any sort of emotion,"Viktor and I have become friends, we started talking in the library one day and..."

    "Viktor? You call him Viktor?" Miranda's eyes are saucers, bugging out of her head

    "It's not a big deal," Hermione insists, hustling briskly down the path.

    Miranda chases after her, not letting up, "Oh, I beg to differ! Hermione, you little flirt! He's seventeen! And a professional Seeker!" Miranda has never known Hermione to be so secretive. Apparently, their relationship was much more than she was admitting to, Miranda could tell.

    By this point Hermione is fire engine red, "Just...don't tell the boys yet, okay?" Miranda feels honored to have been chosen for this tidbit of information, despite only having met Hermione this year. And over Ron and Harry, no less. Though, she does understand the allure of keeping it from the two boys. They are nosy as hell, and have no boundaries.

    Plus, Miranda has a sneaking suspicion that Ron would not take the news too well, especially since Krum is his favorite player.

    She puts a finger to her lips, "Your secret's safe with me."

    Meanwhile, back in the Gryffindor commons, Harry and Ron sit glumly, also dateless.

    Ron stares blankly into the crackling fire, "You asked anyone yet?"

    "No," Harry shakes his head, propping his chin on his hands. "You?"

    "No," Ron replies in monotone. "You?"

    Harry sighs heavily, "We already established I hadn't asked anyone yet, Ron."

    "Oh— right," Ron scratches his head. "And when's the ball again?"

    "Friday," Harry answers dejectedly.

    "Which is in?"

    "It's tomorrow."

    "Oh."

    "Yeah." Harry exhales. There is one girl he's thought about asking— but he hasn't gotten the courage to actually do it yet. God forbid if she even says yes.

    "Well, well, well, would you look at this sad lot," Fred and George clamber in through the portrait hole, gleeful.

    "Shove off, we don't have dates to the ball yet," Ron punches his brothers.

    "Wait you're not going with each other? I could've sworn the two of you were a couple," George smirks

    "Whatever, it's not like you tossers have dates either," Ron replies sulkily

    "Oh, but dear brother we do," George juts out his bottom lip, then bows with a grand flourish, "I am going with the lovely Angelina Johnson."

    "And I the delightful Katie Bell," Fred chimes in.

    "Are you talking about the Yule Ball?," Neville comes down from the dorms. "I'm going with Luna as friends."

    "Neville has a date and we don't?" Ron cries incredulously. "Okay, we are officially losers."

    "Sorry to burst your bubble mate, but you and your hubby were losers long before now," Fred couldn't resist, waggling his eyebrows at Ron.

    "Oi, that's enough!" Ron lunges at his brothers as they proceed to fight. Harry watches, amused.

    The day turns into night, and Miranda and Hermione start making their way back to the castle. Halfway there, Krum stops them and asks to talk to Hermione, who looks at Miranda questioningly. Miranda waves her on excitedly, and smiles as she sees her friend walk away happily with the burly wizard. She then continues the trek to the castle, it starts to snow as she does, creating a swirling wonderland of snowflakes that float around her, catching in her hair. She inhales the sharp, cold air slowly, closing her eyes, and doesn't notice the boy coming up behind her.

    He clears his throat softly.

    "Oh!" Miranda turns to find Cedric Diggory standing in front of her expectantly.

    Cedric rubs his hand along his jaw, "My apologies, I didn't mean to scare you."

    "No— uh— it's fine," Miranda breaks out of her reverie, focusing.  "Cedric, how are you?"

    "I'm good, I...had a question I wanted to ask you."

    "Shoot," she says, waiting. Miranda wonders if it's about the Charms homework Flitwick had assigned over break. Usually, she's the one asking Cedric for help so she welcomes any favor he might need of her.

    "Would you like to go to the Ball with me? I know it's soon and you might already have a date but—"

    "I'd love to go with you Cedric," Miranda agrees happily. "Thank you for asking me."

    "Great! So, I'll see you there then?"

    "Perfect. Thank you Cedric." They wave goodbye as Miranda heads up to the common room, she can't wait to tell Hermione. She's a little disappointed that he didn't ask her, but her and Cedric are good friends, and they'll have fun together. Lost in thought, she collides with Draco.

    They both fall to the ground. He laughs, outstretching a hand to help her up, "Careful, M, or someone will think you're falling for me."

    "Hey, D." Miranda hugs him. It feels like ages since she saw him last. Actually, it feels like they were closer when they lived in different countries. She remembers when they used to be attached at the hip, inseparable, wailing when their mothers dragged them apart at the end of a playdate.

    It was just— hard. Making time for both him and the trio.

    "You heading to dinner?"

    "Just about," she reaches out to fix his tie, which is slightly crooked. It's been bothering her. "You?"

    He nods, "Uh huh."

    Miranda starts to leave, "Goodnight then, see you at—"

    "Wait!" Draco exclaims desperately, grabbing her hand. "Miranda!"

    Alarmed, Miranda pauses in her tracks, "What D?"

    "I—erm— well— I was thinking..." Draco fidgets nervously, shifting from foot to foot. Why did she always have to look so beautiful? Her cheeks were flushed from the cold and it was making it really hard for him to focus.

Miranda looks at him questioningly, eyes bright.

    "You know— if you...you know...don't have a date yet...I thought maybe we could go together...?" Draco dares a glance at her, trying to gauge her reaction. "As—as friends...you know?"

    Miranda sighs sadly, "Oh Draco I'm so sorry, I—" If only he'd asked her ten minutes sooner. This would be the perfect way to spend time with him, and hopefully begin mending those fences between him Hermione, Ron, and especially Harry.

    "Hey no, no it's fine, I get it, it's all good." Draco says quickly, crestfallen.

    "No Draco, I would've loved to go with you," Miranda squeezes his hand, trying to smooth over the tension. Draco's been acting oddly for some time around her, intermittently zoning out or babbling nervously. She wonders what's changed. And wonders how she can return it to normal. He was her best friend. "Really, I would, it's just Cedric just asked me, like right before you, and, well, I already said yes..."

    "At least you're not going with Potter." Draco mumbles, slowly recovering from the rejection. "I'll see you at dinner."

    Miranda blows him a kiss, "Bye, D." She runs into Hermione just as she's about to enter the Great Hall.

    "Hermione!"

    "Miranda!"

    "I have to tell you something!" They exclaim in unison.

    "You first!" Miranda pulls her into a small alcove, tingling with excitement.

    Hermione cups a hand around Miranda's ear, "So, you know how Viktor asked to talk to me? Well, he took me to library, and he asked me to the Ball!"

    "No way!" Miranda tackles her with a hug. "Hermione I'm so happy for you!" She really is. She hopes he'll treat her right. Otherwise he'll have a very angry 5'2 blonde to answer to. And Miranda can pack a punch, just ask Draco. Or Ron. Or— well, Harry.

    She must admit, she is a tad worried about the age difference, but she prays it's perfectly innocent between them. She trusts Hermione's judgment. Sometimes more than she trusts her own.

    "Now what'd you want to tell me?"

    "I got asked to the ball too! Cedric asked me right after you left!" Miranda squeals and clasps hands with Hermione, both girls swaying down the corridors like loons.

    Hermione gasps, out of breath, "Miranda, this means we're both going to the ball with champions! Maybe we should tell the boys. Maybe they got dates today too."

    The thought of Harry having a date sends an uncomfortable prickle down Miranda's spine, but she shakes it off, paying it no mind. She is moving on. Cedric was gorgeous and kind and smart, and she was happy to be going with him.

    Hermione and her plop down across from Harry and Ron, still whispering to each other, giggling intermittently.

    The boys just blink at them, bewildered and downcast.

    "What on earth is the matter with you two?" Hermione finally asks, after half of dinner passes by in silence. The only sound coming from the silverware clinking on the porcelain plates.

    "Honestly, you look like someone just told you Quidditch was outlawed," Miranda adds with a smirk.

    "We haven't asked anyone to the ball yet," Ron manages through gritted teeth.

    "Why?"

    Ron huffs loudly, "Because girls travel in packs, it's impossible to get one on their own and try and ask them. Let alone if they'll even say yes, McGonagall."

    Harry grunts in agreement.

    Ron's eyes light up suddenly, as he seemingly comes to a great realization. "Hey— wait a minute," something dawns on him, "you guys are girls."

    "Really?" Hermione rolls her eyes, voice dripping with sarcasm. "I had no idea."

    "There are two of you," he points at them, "and there are two of us." He gestures to himself and Harry, who glares at him as if to say, leave me out of this.

    "Whatever hamster that runs around the wheel that keeps your brain moving must be working really hard today, Ronald," Miranda replies, exchanging a look with Hermione.

    "And for your information we've already got dates."

    "What?" Harry is suddenly very alert, spine pin straight at this revelation.

    "Both of you? Both of you have dates?" Ron squints at them skeptically.

    "Yes, both of us," Hermione retorts haughtily, sniffing. "Is that so hard for you to believe?"

    Ron looks between the two of them, and then shakes his head. "No, no, no, I don't think so." Denial's a funny thing. Miranda kind of can't wait until he sees exactly who Hermione is going with. He's going to freak.

    "Well, I guess you'll just have to wait and see, won't you, Weasley?" And with that  parting barb, Miranda and Hermione saunter up to the Gryffindor commons.

    "Well— well—that was just—" Ron blusters, red in the face.

    "Nice going, mate," Harry groans, patting his friend on the shoulder.

    "Who do you think Hermione's going with?" Ron says quietly, almost reluctant to hear the answer.

    "I dunno. Who do you think Miranda is going with?" Harry responds, equally quiet.

    Ron pinches the bridge of his nose, "We gotta get dates, Harry."

    "Yeah..."

    The morning of the dance dawns bright and early. Miranda and Hermione practically dance out of bed in anticipation. They spend the whole day holed up in their room, getting ready together.

    Hermione spins in front of the full length mirror, her remarkable gradient dress with pink and deep plum satin ruffles, and fluttery cap sleeves twirling around her.

    Miranda curls her hair, and fashions it into a sophisticated up do, with ringlets of her brown hair wisping out around the edges. Hermione looks like a fairy, pixie features softened by the sheen of pink lipgloss and her unbridled excitement.

    "Krum's gonna have a heart attack when he sees you," Miranda tells her, handing her a pair of delicate crystalline heels.

    "Well then him and Cedric are going to have to go to Madam Pomfrey together because that's what's going to happen when Diggory looks at you."

    Miranda views her own reflection, smoothing her light teal dress of wrinkle. She runs her hand down the sweetheart neckline, fingering the embroidered gold and silver flowers. Behind her, Hermione fastens a diamond necklace around her neck, brushing Miranda's loose, wavy hair from her face.

    They've prepared to meet their dates in the Great Hall, which has been decked out for the occasion.

    "Ready?" Hermione asks, holding out her hand.

    "Ready." Miranda  nods determinedly, and takes her friend's hand.

    Back in the boys' room, Ron stares unhappily at the mirror before him. His mum sent him some old dress robes, and they're slightly outdated. He sniffs the collar and wrinkles his nose, "I hate being poor."

    "Let's go mate, we gotta meet them soon," Harry comes out looking rather dashing in dress robes, hair messy as always.

    In an act of desperation, Harry and Ron had asked the Patil twins to the ball, so they went to meet them in the Great Hall.

    Parvati and Padma look very lovely and Harry was grateful that they had been free, but still he wished he'd asked Miranda.

    "Where are they?" Ron prods Harry.

    Harry frowns, tilting his head, "What do you mean? They're right here."

    Ron makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat, "Not the twins. Hermione and McGonagall."

    "Oh—" In all honesty, Harry's been trying to forget about that. "I dunno, but we have to go meet Parvati and Padma."

    "Right," Ron doesn't move.

    "Ron," Harry presses.

    "Right—" the boys start walking again, "you reckon they actually got dates, Harry?

    Harry is tired of this conversation, "Who knows Ron, who knows."

    Meanwhile, Hermione and Miranda near the top of the stairs. A thousand butterflies are flapping about in Miranda's abdomen. She has no idea why she's so nervous, but she's fairly certain her feet are beginning to sweat in her satin heels. Gross.

    "Oh my god!" The Patil sisters gasp in awe, eyes on something behind Harry and Ron.

    The boys turn their heads at the sound, and their jaws fall open.

    "Bloody—" Ron starts.

    "Hell," Harry finishes for him, mouth hanging agape like a trout.

    Hermione and Miranda are glowing with beauty. Harry can't tear his gaze away from Miranda, and he doesn't want to. Her dress cascades around her glittering and reflecting light, and there is a small slit going up to her thigh that makes heat crawl up Harry's neck. Her hair curls softly around her face, and he wants nothing more than to run his hands through it.

    Beside him, Ron is going through a similar experience, but he is staring at Hermione.

    Miranda and Hermione complete their descent down the stairs, pleased with their effect on their two friends.

    "Hi, boys, " Miranda waggles her fingers at them, savouring the moment for all its worth.

    "You look— wow— I mean you—wow..." Harry stammers incoherently. His mouth feels dry, and he is suddenly very aware of his fingers.

    "Thanks, Harry. You don't clean up too bad yourself," Miranda curls her toes inside her shoes, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear shyly. Ugh, why was he being so cute? Not helping, Harry Potter. Not helping.

    Ron elbows Harry in the ribs pointedly, trying to regain control of the situation, "So where are these so called dates, McGonagall?"

    "Right there, Weasley."

Miranda and Hermione walk towards the waiting Viktor and Cedric, and take their arms. Ron and Harry stand stock still in complete and utter shock, choking on their own tongues. While their dates delight in the champion couples.

    "Did you know that Hermione was with Krum?" Parvati marvels reverently

    Padma replies to her sister with equal emotion, "No, I had no idea!! Did you know about Miranda and Cedric?"

    "No! Merlin, they both look so pretty tonight! Don't they guys?" Parvati swivels to face the boys.

    "I guess... if you like that whole beautiful thing," Ron says loftily. His date gives him a look.

    Harry and Ron spend the majority of the night scowling in the direction of Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory, while Miranda and Hermione hardly leave the dance floor. Padma and Parvati had left ages ago once they figured out Harry and Ron had no interest in dancing with them, and were now being wooed by two boys from Durmstrang. As they should.

    "Krum. She went with Krum," Ron repeats for what must be the thousandth time that night. "Did you know she knew Krum?"

    "No," Harry flares his nostrils, barely registering Ron. All he sees his Cedric's hands on Miranda's waist, spinning her around the hall. And to think he had helped that little shit. "Why is Miranda here with Cedric? I mean— I knew they were in class together, but I didn't think they were that close." Too close. Too close.

    "I don't like his face," Ron mutters.

    Harry's features are starting to get sore from their scrunched, tense position, "Who? Cedric's?"

    "Krum's," Ron clarifies, glaring darkly. "There's something about his face that I don't like."

    Harry grunts in solidarity, "Cedric has a stupid face too."

    "Oh definitely, mate."

    They return to their scowling.

    On the dance floor, Miranda is breathless, she doesn't know when the last time she had this much fun was. Cedric is surprisingly funny, and she's been entertained all night. She even danced with Draco for a bit, much to Pansy Parkinson's disgust. Still, she can't help but look over to where Harry is sitting.

    "I knew there was a reason you didn't have a date so close to the ball." Cedric murmurs in her ear while they dance.

    "Sorry—what?" Miranda starts, caught intensely off guard.

    "That's the fourth time I've seen you look at him tonight," Cedric raises his eyebrows. There is no need to explain who him is, and Miranda knows it.

    "Who—? What—? I— I— don't know what you're talking about." Miranda babbles, flustered. How had he figured her out so quickly?

    "Yes, you do," he replies kindly.

    Miranda sighs, "You're right I'm sorry Cedric, I've been distracted, the truth is I thought that he was going to ask me, but he didn't and you did, and I should've told you that I meant just as friends, and oh god I feel awful."

    Cedric chuckles lightly, "Miranda, calm down, it's perfectly okay. I had a feeling you liked him, and I...didn't exactly ask you here honorably myself."

    "What do you mean?"

    Cedric takes a deep breath, "Well, the truth is, Miranda, I'm...gay."

    Miranda gapes at him, "Wha—? I had no—"

    "I do a pretty good job of hiding it. not that I'm ashamed or anything but it's still so uncommon to be out in the Wizarding World, and I never know how people will react. It's just easier this way. Anyways I have a kinda sorta boyfriend," he indicates a freckled boy from Ravenclaw dancing with Cho Chang, "and you seemed really nice in Charms. So, I thought, why not?"

    Miranda's shoulders relax significantly, all the pressure taken off the evening, "I'm glad you told me. At least now I don't have to be too embarrassed about staring at Harry every five seconds. Was it really that bad?"

    Cedric laughs, squeezing her hand gently, "If it makes you feel any better, if you weren't looking at him he was looking at you. I'm pretty sure he likes you too, y'know. And I don't blame you, he is pretty cute."

    The Great Hall has slowly started to clear out, and Miranda notices the Ravenclaw boy peering at Cedric from behind a wall.

    "I think you're being summoned."

    Cedric tugs at his collar, "Oh...do you mind if I—?"

    "Go get him," Miranda waves him on, shooting him a thumbs up.

    Cedric turns to go, calling out, "You too!"

    Miranda mouths goodbye, and then scans the room for Harry, who is still sitting at the tables with Ron. Hermione skips up to her, panting and shining with sweat.

    "Wasn't this just the best night of your life!" Hermione grabs Miranda's hands and they dance together.

    "Pretty close," Miranda kisses her on the cheek, loving this effusive, bubbly side of Hermione she's never witnessed before.

    "I'm going to bed, but I want to hear all about your night when you get back." Hermione climbs the staircase dreamily, closely followed by Ron. Miranda winces as she them both disappear up the steps. That boy is like a rabid dog. He does not know when to quit.

    "Yes, ma'am," she salutes.

    Harry is still there, sipping mindlessly from a goblet. She steels herself, and begins to walk toward him.

    She swallows, "Hi."

    "Hey," Harry flicks his eyes to her briefly, words bitter with resentment, "did you have fun with Cedric?"

    "I did, actually," Miranda states plainly, arms crossed. She will not let him ruin this by being a jealous jerk. If that's what this is— of course. Harry's hand clenches on his  wire backed chair, and Miranda quickly adds, "He's a really good friend."

    "Friend?" Harry's interest is piqued, and he sits up infinitesimally straighter.

    "Friend," she nods.

    Harry peers at her closely, "Like a friend friend, or a— friend— like a friend, or—?"

    Miranda rolls her eyes, "A friend, Harry. Just a friend."

    "So—"

    Miranda sighs, "I don't— like him like that— if that's what you mean."

    "Good."

    Her eyebrows shoot up, "Good?"

    "Yeah, good. Very good." Harry grins widely, abruptly standing up.

    "What?" Miranda's eyes widen. Her palms are sweating now, and she resists the urge to wipe them on her dress.

    "Well, as you know, this is a dance."

    "Yes." Her heart pounds, is he going to ask what she thinks he's going to ask? What will she say? What will she do? Hermione's going to flip when she hears.

    "So, do you want to?" he extends his hand bashfully. "Dance, I mean."

    "Alright," Miranda takes his proffered hand, and feels an electric current race up her arm as they touch.

    He twirls her around the almost vacant Great Hall, and she laughs at his attempts to do the Muggle chicken dance. Then the band starts playing a slower song. In one quick move, Harry pulls her in close to his chest, swaying softly to the music, and Miranda stops breathing.

    Miranda bites her lip, "So Potter..."

    "Yes, Miranda?"

    "If you wanted to go to the dance with me, why didn't you just ask?"

    "Well, for one, I had no idea how pretty you were going to look tonight." Miranda's cheeks turn red. Now Harry drops his voice to a whisper, "And I— I didn't know if you were going to say yes."

    "I would've said yes," she whispers back in a sudden spout of honesty.

    "Altogether though, I'm really just an absolute idiot."

    "I'm glad we agree on something," Miranda swats his shoulder playfully. They continue dancing, neither noticing Malfoy watching them from the staircase, heartbroken. Harry holds her hand all the way back to the dormitory. Just before they are about to enter, he stops and looks at her.

    "I had a really good time tonight Miranda."

    "Me too."

    "Oh yeah?" Harry, pleased, gently brushes a stray hair out of her eyes. Involuntarily, Miranda feels her face tilt upwards.

   They are centimeters apart,  another second, another exhale, and they would be— "I hate you, Ronald! You ruin everything!" Hermione's shrill cry swiftly interrupts whatever had been about to happen.

    "Uh oh," Harry and Miranda say in unison. Quickly, they clamber into the common room.

    "Next time there's a ball ask me before someone else does, and not as a last resort!" Hermione snaps, eyes flaring with heat.

    "Well— well that's just completely off the point," Ron shoots back mulishly.

    Hermione spies Harry and Miranda, and whirls around, hair whipping behind her,"And you, off to bed, Harry! Now!"

    She rounds on Harry, who mouths, "What did you do?" to Ron. And with that, Hermione spins on her heel, dashing up to the girls dorm.

    "I should—" Miranda points to the direction Hermione had gone in.

    "Yeah, I should— too." Harry jabs a thumb at Ron, sulking in the corner. "Goodnight."

    "Goodnight."

    It is hard for Miranda to contain her smile as she walks up to her room, but her elation quickly turns to concern when she finds Hermione sprawled on her bed, hair coming undone, sobbing. She rushes to her side, and begins rubbing her back softly, "Shhh shhh, it's ok."

    "I ha-ha-hate him," Hermione chokes out.

    "I know. I know."