Birds chirp and the dew dots the windowpanes, mist dissipating from the lake beyond as dawn breaks. The last week or so had been a haze. But finally— finally Ron was being released from his sick bed. Hermione has barely left the infirmary, while Mateo and Ginny often stay the night. Miranda and Harry visit as often as possible, watching, helping Ron regain his strength. Also providing him some much needed distraction. He's been cooped up for days and may be going a bit mad.

Miranda stretches, wriggling out of Harry's arms as she admires his rippling back muscles. She rubs her eyes and yawns, feet meeting the cold hardwood floor. Quietly, she slips Harry's shirt over her head, the soft fabric draped over her comically, still smelling faintly of his cologne and broomsticks. She places his glasses on the nightstand for him and begins to tiptoe away.

"Where do you think you're going, Mandy?" Harry rumbles, propping his head up on his elbow. He's awake, apparently. Of course he is. God she loves his morning voice.

Miranda, inches away from the door, sighs, turning towards him. She can't resist him. She never can. She glides over to him, placing a chaste peck on his lips, "Mateo and the girls are going to be back soon." She explains, "I have to go get fresh clothes." One peck turns to two, which turns to three, and suddenly she's being pulled back into bed beside him. His mouth strays over the expanse of her shoulder, drawing back up to her lips, tongue brushing hers.

She giggles through the kisses, trying not to give in, "Harry I'm serious." Miranda cups his face in her palms,  "I need to wash my hair, and—"

"I have a shower, love," Harry cuts her off, raising an eyebrow. Miranda's stomach drops, the butterflies inside cartwheeling and back flipping all around.

She presses a kiss to his jaw, breaking away from his hold, "I need clothes too, Harry. I haven't been to my room since the night of Ron's party."

Harry makes a noise in the back of his throat, indicating he does not care in the slightest. He groans, tugging her back into his chest. "Just wear mine," Harry mumbles into her neck.

"I've been wearing your clothes for days, Harry," says Miranda guiltily. "I feel bad, I—"

He silences her with another head spinning kiss, fingers threading through her hair.  "I like when you wear my clothes Mandy," Harry states, rather simply. "You look good in them." Miranda shakes her head, smiling in spite of herself. He was so hard to say no to.

"Oi! Harry you up?" Mateo's voice calls from outside, breaking Miranda from her kissing induced reverie. His footsteps increase in volume with each step he takes, proximity getting closer and closer

Miranda practically catapults from the bed, frantically looking around the room for an exit. The only way out is the way Mateo is coming from. Panic shoots through her like ice, as she leaps wildly about the room.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Miranda curses, eyes wide. She looks a bit like a cornered animal. "Harry, what do we do?" she presses, pacing. There would be no explaining the situation. Harry was shirtless, Miranda was only wearing his t-shirt, her skirt was on the floor. They can hear Mateo approaching nearer, almost at the door. At the last second, Miranda dives under Harry's bed, taking her skirt with her. Ow. She's fairly certain she's just skinned her knee.

"Hey Harry, sorry did I wake you?" Mateo enters the room, and Miranda stays as still has humanly possible. Her heartbeat is a pounding drum.

Harry, minorly flustered, and acting squirelly, says, "No, no I was getting up anyways." He spies Miranda's bra hanging of the side of the bed, and in one swift motion, kicks it under the bed where Miranda is hiding. Crisis averted.

"Right," says Mateo, scratching his head. "Well Ron's gonna be officially free in an hour. Gin and Hermione are just getting some clean clothes, so I'll let you get dressed and we'll meet you there."

Harry nods fervently, trying to rush Mateo along. "Sounds good," he flashes him a toothy smile and an extraordinary enthusiastic thumbs up. "I'll see you then—"

"Achoo!" Miranda claps a hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. She had inhaled the slightest amount of dust and couldn't help herself. She holds her breath, praying Matt didn't hear anything. Oh my god.

Mateo pauses in his tracks, pursing his lips, "Did you hear that?"

"What?" Harry clears his throat several times, uncomfortable and anxious. "Nope, didn't hear a thing," he replies quickly. "Weren't you going?"

Mateo frowns, "Yeah..." He squints, suspicious, "Hey—wait— where's Miranda? I haven't seen her since last night. Do you know where she is?"

No! Miranda screams internally, forgetting in her haste that her dumb brother can hear her thoughts. Shit

"No clue, mate," Harry shrugs airily. "She's probably upstairs."

Mateo narrows his eyes, "Really? So she's not in here—?"

"Why would she be in here?" Harry squeaks, sweating. Miranda resists the urge to slam her head into the bed frame. He was blowing this.

"I just—I thought I—" Mateo starts to walk closer to where Miranda is located. Miranda?

Miranda has got to do something fast before she is discovered. Mateo definitely heard her thoughts before. She grits her teeth, focusing hard she implants her command.

Leave the room.

Leave the room.

Leave the room.

Leave the room.

Her brother swivels toward the door as if pulled by an invisible string. "I think I'd better leave the room," states Matt in a monotone voice, walking stiffly out the door.

Harry sighs in obvious relief, "Blimey I thought he'd never go." He relaxes, running his hands through his hair, "That was a little weird, wasn't it?"

Miranda emerges from under the bed, giddy with excitement. Her earlier panic has been completely forgotten  "I did it!" She shrieks breathlessly, dancing across the room "It worked!" Miranda's veins pump with elation, with pride. She bounds over to the bed, kissing Harry with plain enthusiasm, "It's never worked before, he actually—I did it!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but you're kissing me so I'm not complaining," Harry chuckles, completely puzzled and slightly caught off guard. He lets his suspicions go, however, once her lips meet his again.

"I can't believe—oh my god I have to tell Matt!" Miranda kisses Harry one last time and darts out of Harry's bedroom, a million thoughts running through her head.

"Wait—you what?!" Harry yells, sitting bolt upright. But the girl has already disappeared out the door, golden hair flying behind her.

"Matt!" Miranda shouts, panting a bit as she surveys the common room. She finally spots him, standing by the fireplace with a vaguely offput, blank expression on his face. "Mateo, I did it," she leaps to him, buzzing with excitement. "I implanted a command and it worked! It actually worked, and we weren't even touching or anything!"

"Bloody hell, Miranda, really?!" Mateo gives her a hug, and then steps back, taking in her attire. His lips purse, gears turning in his mind. "Wait a second."  he starts, temper prickling, "You made me leave the room! I knew you were in there. I'm going to—"

"Shut up, Matt," Miranda cuts her brother off with a pointed scowl. The filthy hypocrite. "I know you and Ginny are shagging too, so don't even."

Finally, finally it is Mateo's turn to morph into a tomato. He swallows his reprimand, lips twitching, "Look at you using British slang."

"Look at me," Miranda grins giddily. Months of practice and late nights and Snape sneering at her have finally payed off.  "I still can't believe I did it."

Mateo chuckles, "Severus will be so proud." Miranda folds her arms, arching a skeptical brow. He relents, "Okay fine—but maybe you'll get a nod."

She rolls her eyes so far in the back of her head they nearly disappear. "I'm honored," says Miranda dryly, skipping back upstairs to her dorm, where she finds Hermione waiting. She pads across the threshold, tying her hair up into a topknot as she does so. Her blond tangles are coated in a thin layer of grease, she really does need to take a shower. "Where's Gin?" she asks, searching for the red head.

"In the shower," Hermione gestures at the closed bathroom door,  idly turning the pages of her book. Her gaze flicks briefly over Miranda, smug.  "I'm assuming you spent the night at Harry's?"

"Maybe," replies Miranda primly, lifting her chin. It wasn't as if she could lie. She didn't even try to hide the hickeys anymore around Hermione and Ginny, and she is dressed head to toe in Harry's clothing. She pulls Harry's shirt over her head, revealing a swath of bare torso. "But I don't want to talk about me and Harry," she says, opening the wardrobe to find her own clothes. "I want to talk about you and Ron," she turns to face Hermione.

"Harry and I," Hermione corrects, blushing down to her toes.

"Hermione..." Miranda crosses her arms, tapping her foot impatiently.

Hermione buries her nose deep within the book she's holding, mumbling, "I don't know what you want to discuss."

"Hermione!"

"Fine," Hermione gives in, breaking into a brilliant smile. She flops down on Miranda's four poster bed and clasps one of the velvet throw pillows to her chest. "Well— you know most of it already. I just— I've been staying with him most nights. Keeping him company...you know..."

"Did you get a chance to talk?" she inquires, tilting her head.

Hermione shrugs, picking mindlessly at the threads of her jumper, "Not really. He was in and out of consciousness so— didn't have much strength to, I suppose."

"Had enough strength to hold your hand though, didn't he?" adds Miranda with a small smirk. A pillow promptly smacks her in the face. "Hey!"

"It's not as if he's going to remember any of it," Hermione amends, somewhat quietly. "Madam Pomfrey had him on all those potions."

Miranda sighs, scooting over to Hermione's side, "But you two are good now, right? Friends again?"

"Yes," she nods. "Though, who knows how long. Lavender's livid, so we'll have to see how that plays out."

Miranda lays flat on her back, spreading her arms and legs wide like starfish, "I guess we'll see." They hear the shower turn off, and Ginny comes out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, hair dripping onto the carpet.

"Look who's back." Ginny hums at Miranda, wringing out her hair.  A puddle is gathering beneath her feet. "Have a nice sleepover, did you?"

"Shut up, Gin," Miranda flips her off, poking her tongue out at Ginny.  Though she's grateful the shower is finally free. Before she can even open the door, however, there is a knock on the wall.

"You lot nearly ready?" Mateo snaps his fingers, Harry at his side.

"No!" Hermione and Miranda exclaim simultaneously. "It's barely been five seconds."

Mateo checks his watch, "It's been twenty minutes."

Ginny, still wrapped in only a towel, frowns at her boyfriend, "You understand nothing about women."

"Managed to snag you didn't I?" he replies with a grin.

Ginny arches a red brow, tousling her damp hair, "I kissed you, Romeo. Remember?"

Mateo chooses to ignore this, continuing on with his original request. "So you're telling me you aren't ready?" He groans, "Ron's expecting us."

"I have to take a shower!" Miranda protests indignantly.

"Can I come with?" Harry pipes up, the corner of his mouth lifting in a teasing, mischievous quirk.

"I'm right here, guys," says Mateo disgustedly. Miranda and Harry pay him no mind, as usual.

"Nice try, Potter," Miranda wrinkles her nose at him, willing herself not to turn red. "You asked me that already this morning."

"Wishful thinking, then," smirks Harry.

"You think about me?" Miranda teases, smiling.

"All the time," he answers lowly, the look in his eyes suggesting that his thought are less than innocent. Miranda's toes curl.

"Am I not here? Can they not see me?" Mateo wonders aloud, desperately. His face is scrunched up like a lemon. "Can you see me?"

"The point is," says Miranda, briskly. She can feel Harry's intense gaze on her. "I am not leaving this dorm until I bathe. I'm filthy—"

"Don't I know it," Harry interjects devilishly, tone dark and dirty. He drags his teeth along his lower lip, and Miranda thinks she blacks out a little. An electric charge of heat crackles between them. Ginny coughs.

"Harry!" Hermione chokes on a laugh, attempting to reprimand, appalled and amused all at once.

"What in Merlin's tits—!" Mateo starts irritably, prepared to rant.

"Oh— hush you," Ginny silences him with a swift kiss, shooing both boys out the door. "We'll be ready in five."

"Five what?" bellow both Harry and Mateo, as the door shuts in their faces. "Hours? Months? Years?"

"GO AWAY!"

Finally, finally, Miranda gets to take her long awaited shower. She'd nearly forgotten what it felt like to have clean hair that didn't look like you'd just swum in a lake of olive oil. After changing into a fresh pair of her own clothes, they all head to the infirmary to get Ron.

He is in much better spirits than he has been the past couple days, evidently relieved to be out and about once more. "Have I got loads of homework to catch up on?" Ron asks, as the four of them traipse though the corridor. Ginny and Mateo had split up from them a few minutes ago. "How long do you think I can use the 'I almost died' excuse—" He stops talking very suddenly. Lavender Brown is standing at the foot of the marble staircase looking thunderous. "Hi," says Ron nervously.

"C'mon," Miranda mutters to Hermione, and they speed past, though not before they had heard Lavender say, "Why didn't you tell me you were getting out today? And why was she with you?"

Ron looks both sulky and annoyed when he appears at breakfast half an hour later, and though he sat with Lavender, Miranda did not see them exchange a word all the time they were together. Hermione is acting as though she is quite oblivious to all of this, but once or twice Miranda sees an inexplicable smirk cross her face. All that day she seems to be in a particularly good mood, one that does not falter in the evening as they study in the library.

Miranda, who has  long given up on her dissertation for Herbology, is face down in a text book. She closes it with a resounding thump, sneezing when a cloud of dust is released from the spine. She leans back in her chair, running her hands through Harry's hair, whose head is in her lap. He's half asleep, but still manages to whine every time she stops.

"How d'you spell 'belligerent'?" says Ron, shaking his quill very hard while staring at his parchment. "It can't be B — U — M —"

"No, it isn't," says Hermione, pulling Ron's essay toward her. "And 'augury' doesn't begin O — R — G either. What kind of quill are you using?"

"It's one of Fred and George's Spell-Check ones . . . but I think the charm must be wearing off. . . ."

"Yes, it must," says Hermione, pointing at the title of his essay, "because we were asked how we'd deal with dementors, not 'Dug- bogs,' and I don't remember you changing your name to 'Roonil Wazlib' either."

"Ah no!" says Ron, staring horror-struck at the parchment. "Don't say I'll have to write the whole thing out again!"

"It's okay, we can fix it," says Hermione, pulling the essay toward her and taking out her wand.

"I love you, Hermione," says Ron, sinking back in his chair, rubbing his eyes wearily.

Hermione turns faintly pink, but merely says, "Don't let Lavender hear you saying that." Miranda hides a sneaking smile, pressing her lips together.

"I won't," says Ron into his hands. "Or maybe I will . . . then she'll ditch me . . ."

"Why don't you ditch her if you want to finish it?" mumbles Harry.

"You haven't ever chucked anyone, have you?" says Ron. "You and Cho just —"

"Sort of fell apart, yeah," winces Harry. "Of course there was the added fact that I only went out with her to make another girl jealous..." he trails off guiltily, adjusting his glasses.

"Who is this mysterious girl?" asks Miranda cheekily. "She sounds so brilliant and amazing and gorgeous."

"Yeah," Harry grins, reaching up to kiss her. "She's alright."

"Wish that would happen with me and Lavender," says Ron gloomily, watching Hermione silently tapping each of his misspelled words with the end of her wand, so that they corrected themselves on the page. "But the more I hint I want to finish it, the tighter she holds on. It's like going out with the giant squid."

Ron's dismal attitude regarding the situation does not improve over the next week. They are sitting with Ron in a sunny corner of the common room after lunch. Ron gives a start and tries to hide behind Hermione as a girl comes around the corner.

"It isn't Lavender," says Hermione wearily.

"Oh, good," says Ron, relaxing, returning to his spell work.

The six friends are spending a rare afternoon off in the common room. Ginny is perched by the hearth, reading a newspaper while she rests back against Mateo's legs. Ron and Hermione are sitting opposite them on the couch, Hermione trying to help Ron with a spell they'd learned in Charms.

"Ron, you're making it snow," says Hermione patiently, grabbing his wrist and redirecting his wand away from the ceiling from which, sure enough, large white flakes have started to fall. Lavender Brown, Miranda notices, glares at Hermione from a neighboring table through very red eyes, and Hermione immediately lets go of Ron's arm.

"Oh yeah," says Ron, looking down at his shoulders in vague surprise. "Sorry . . . looks like we've all got horrible dandruff now. . . ." He brushes some of the fake snow off Hermione's shoulder. Lavender burst into tears. Ron looks immensely guilty and turns his back on her.

"We split up," he tells them out of the corner of his mouth. "Last night. When she saw me coming out of the dormitory with Hermione. Obviously she couldn't see you, so she thought it had just been the two of us."

"Ah," says Harry. "Well — you don't mind it's over, do you?"

"No," Ron admits. "It was pretty bad while she was yelling, but at least I didn't have to finish it."

"Coward," says Hermione, though she looks amused.

Lavender Brown continues to shoot daggers at them from her spot on the window seat with Parvati.

Ron grimaces, ducking his head, "Is she still looking over here?"

Miranda peeks behind her, "Yes. And she does not look happy."

Ron hides his face in Hermione's shoulder, bemoaning, "Help me."  Hermione laughs softly, cheeks a pink, pleased colour.

Ginny closes her newspaper with a huff,  stretching, "Three dementor attacks in one week, but all Romilda Vane does is ask me in Divination whether it's just a rumor that Mateo has a hippogriff tattooed on his chest."

Mateo stifles a snicker, coughing, "What'd you say?"

Ginny winks, eyes twinkling with mischief. A look reminiscent of her older brothers, "Told her it was a dragon, that Harry was the one with a hippogriff." Miranda snorts out loud, slapping Ginny a high five.

"Hey!" Harry's mouth drops open. "There was no need to drag me into this." He pauses for a moment, plucking a stray flake off of Miranda's shoulder, whipsering into her ear, "Though I wouldn't mind if you got a tattoo. Just so you know."

Miranda inhales, biting her lip, "What'd you tell her Ron's got?"

Ginny looks even more pleased with herself, "A Pygmy Puff."

"Oi!" says Ron hotly.

Ginny adds slyly, "But I didn't say where..."

Everyone busts out laughing while Ron brandishes his wand threateningly, "Watch it!"

Miranda clutches her stomach, giggling even harder, and Hermione's lips twitch as she valiantly attempts to conceal her own amusement.

"You too?" Ron gasps dramatically, "The betrayal." He begins to laugh as well. The six of them wiping tears from their eyes when they ultimately regain control of themselves.

"I want a picture," Hermione announces, out of the blue.

"Excuse me?" Miranda tilts her head sideways in confusion.

"A picture," Hermione explains impatiently, waving her hands. "Of all of us, like this, happy. Who knows what's going to happen next year. We should take a picture." Hermione beckons a boy over, "Colin? Colin? Yes you, Colin." She nods her head, "Do you have your camera with you?"

"Always," Colin answers eagerly, gaping at Harry with admiration.

"I want you to take some shots of us with it. At least six, so we can each have a copy," Hermione instructs, rising from her seat.

"Alright," Colin agrees instantly, letting them set themselves up.

Harry, Mateo, and Ron stand in the back, the girls in the front, for obvious reasons. Though Ginny is taller than Hermione and Miranda, she is not nearly tall enough to be seen above Mateo's impressive 6'2 stature, as the tallest one of the lot of them. Harry puts his arm around Miranda's waist from behind, and the other arm around Ron, whose arm is around Mateo. Mateo's holding Ginny's hand. Miranda, Hermione and Ginny also have their arms around each other, squishing as tightly together as they can.

"Ready?" Colin queries, camera raised.

"Ready, Colin," Harry gives him the go ahead. The camera flash burns into their corneas as they smile bright. Flash after flash searing in quick succession. They are laughing and talking all throughout, and Miranda sincerely hopes there's at least one where her eyes aren't closed and Harry's mouth isn't obscuring half her face.

"Here," Colin hands them each a developed photo.

Miranda looks down at it and her heart warms. There they all are, forever captured in this moment. In this picture they will stay happy teenagers. She looks closer at the movement, mouth curving up as she sees Ginny's classic confident smirk, Mateo taking Ginny's hand and the two of them gazing up at each other. Hermione touching her hair self consciously while Ron stares at her with pure adoration, and Harry, holding Miranda's waist and throwing his head back with laughter, light in his eyes.

Miranda loves every single one of these people in this photo, so much. So very much. They're her family. How could anyone look at this picture and call her an orphan? Call Harry an orphan? They were far from alone. And it only made Miranda that much more afraid. She had everything to lose. Everything.

"It's perfect Colin," Hermione says, beaming. "Thank you so much."

Perfect. But for how long? Miranda has never been promised forever.

The days pass far too quickly fro Miranda's liking. Harry has been more on edge this month, irritable, temper rising at odd moments. He raves about Draco constantly, to the point where Miranda often has to leave the room. She can't stand to hear about it.

Harry is secretive too, she knows he's keeping certain information about his lessons with Dumbledore from her. Though, she is too.

"Well done you two, you've made excellent progress." Dumbledore commends Miranda and Mateo amiably. They are at an extremely late session with him and Snape. These meetings have been dangerously long lately, and Miranda can sense there is an urgency to them. Almost as if they're running out of  time. Though for what she does not know.

"Keep practicing," is all Professor Snape says, per usual not betraying a single emotion. The twins have become exceedingly proficient in their power, and can now almost flawlessly, block, implant, and probe without being detected. Their abilities have grown stronger, allowing them to communicate through thought across further distances, though their power still works best if they are touching.

Dumbledore looks frail, tired, and worn down. It's the first time Miranda has really viewed him as old. His hand looks worse. They've been going to lessons frequently, but more often than not, Professor Snape is the only one there, and he never tells them where Dumbledore is.

"I think that's enough for today. It's late enough as is," Dumbledore bids them goodbye, shaking his sleeve over his hands.

"Wait—Professor?" says Miranda, before he can disappear upstairs.

"Yes, Miss McGonagall?" Dumbledore says kindly, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

"It's just—" Mateo begins anxiously. This is something they've been working up to for a while. "We were wondering whether you could tell us anything. The school year is ending and we still don't know what we-"

"Ah, your mission," Dumbledore nods sagely. Miranda waits with bated breath. Were they finally going to get a concrete answer? Some context?   She often felt like she was fumbling blind through dark tunnel, and it scared her. "Remember, you must wait for the right time. The right time. But since you're so eager I can tell you this, your task may require you to infiltrate the Dark forces."

"You mean like become a Death Eater?" Miranda whispers, horrified.

"Who can say?" Dumbledore raises his eyebrows mysteriously.

"Well—you, sir," Mateo wrinkles his forehead.

"The right time, dear boy," the old wizard taps his right temple. "Everything must happen at the right time. Now off to bed, the both of you." Dumbledore brushes them off, practically closing the door in their faces.

When the castle is quiet like this, drowned in the depths of night, Miranda and Mateo often choose to speak through thought. They can remain silent, and also not disturb any of the paintings.

If he wasn't so brilliant, he'd be crazy.

What was all that nonsense about the right time?

I don't understand half the things that come out of his mouth.

He says it almost every session, it must be important.

Or, he's finally lost it, and the the old man is senile.

Matt!

I'm just saying it's a possibility.

The halls of Hogwarts are dark, Mateo and Miranda each holding up their wands for light as they travel back to the Gryffindor common room. She pray they won't run into Filch or Mrs. Norris. A faint glow emanates from the wall that Miranda has come to recognize as the entrance to the Room of Requirement. Miranda swears she can hear the faint noise of celebration from within. She frowns.

That's weird.

Probably just some prefects on patrol.

Right.

But Miranda can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. Hadn't Harry voiced his suspicions that Draco was using the Room of Requirement? That he was plotting something in there? No. Miranda chastises herself. She was just being paranoid. Harry's obsession was getting to her. Draco wouldn't.

Mateo heads upstairs the instant they reach the common room, Miranda watches him knowingly.

Are you going to Ginny's room?

Are you going to Harry's room?

Touche.

Miranda, does in fact, go into Harry's room, longing to rest her eyes. She is aching with fatigue from the events of the day. Trying takes a lot out of her, more than she realizes in the moment. She is ready to curl up next to the familiar figure of Harry, but he is not there. His bed beside Ron's is noticeably empty. A tiny spike of fear shoots through her veins like ice. Confused and worried, she returns to the common room, and sees that the window to the rooftop is ajar. Curious, she clambers out onto the ledge and makes her way to the Owlery tower, shivering in the cool nip of the night air. There, standing with his back turned to her, is Harry.

"Harry?" she exclaims in surprise. "What are you doing up here? You weren't waiting for me, were you?" Miranda racks her brain. Had she told him to do this? She can't remember telling him to do this. She edges closer and takes in her surroundings. Harry still has his back to her. There is a checkered blanket splayed out on the ground, an array of plates and various snacks spread over it.

A small candle, and a bunch of lilies tied together with a red ribbon. Miranda's confusion grows with each glance she takes. What is going on? They weren't supposed to have a date tonight, she's certain of it. Besides, they don't really do conventional dates. They don't have the time. And certainly not something as fancy and extravagant as this. God, she's tired.

"What do you think?" Harry snaps bitterly, pointing his wand at the picnic and whisking it away. Miranda inhales sharply, he's mad. Harry bristles, refusing to look at her, "What day is it today?"

Miranda opens her mouth, then closes it. She's at a loss. "I—"

"You don't even know, do you?" scoffs Harry. "Figures."

Her chest tightens. Harry never speaks to her this way. "Harry—"

"It's our anniversary," he cuts her off bluntly, unforgiving. "In case you were wondering.  A year ago today we kissed for the first time. I thought I'd surprise you."

Miranda's face falls, her heart sinking down, down, down, dropping to the pit of her stomach. She had no idea. How could she have no idea? Her hand drifts to her mouth in shock, "Oh my god—Harry I'm so sorry. I completely forgot and—"

"Well that's obvious," Harry sneers, crossing his arms.

Miranda tries desperately to explain herself. Her teeth dig into her lower lip, insides twisting and turning with guilt. He had spent so much time— he had been so sweet— waiting for her. "We had another meeting with Dumbledore and Snape," she tells him. "I— I would've been here, I promise." She apologizes profusely, "I've just— it's all so overwhelming lately. I should've remembered, I know. I just— I feel terrible."

"You should," Harry states sullenly. "I never see you anymore. You're always in a meeting, and they always go later than you expect, and they're always out of nowhere. Don't you want to spend time with me? Don't you care about me?" He berates, "About us?"

"Of course I do," Miranda cries earnestly, imploring him to understand. "How can you even— it's just these meetings are so important—"

"Why? Why are they so important?" demands Harry angrily.

"Harry, you know I can't—"

"You can't tell me. I know," Harry sounds as sick of hearing the refrain as Miranda is of uttering it. He is shouting now, "We're in a relationship, Miranda. I love you. We're not supposed to keep secrets from each other!"

"It's not like you tell me what you and Dumbledore do when you go!" Miranda raises her voice as well, matching Harry's tone. She's not going to just sit here and let him yell at her.

"That's different!" shouts Harry, stalking away from her.

"How?!" she shrieks, grabbing his arm so that he is forced to meet her gaze. She hates it when he won't look at her. It reminds her too much of Draco.

Harry's jaw is set, "I don't want to worry you!"

Miranda has reached her tipping point. "Enough of that, Harry!" Her eyes flash with fury, gaze steely. Her nostrils flare,  "I told you not to coddle me. I don't need it. You think I like keeping secrets from you?" Her shoulders are shaking, breaths coming in short, fast bursts. Everything is flooding out of her at once. "I don't. Okay? I hate it." Her voice is shaking now too, eyes swimming with tears. "I hate that I don't get to spend enough time with you, and I hate that I forgot our anniversary! But you do not get to come at me for keeping secrets when you do the exact same thing!" Miranda yells defiantly, her lip quivering.

Harry's features soften, any trace of the anger or annoyance or hurt that had been there before lifted. He approaches her slowly, wrapping his arms around her and gently guiding her head into his chest. She lets him.

"I'm sorry, Mandy," he murmurs into her hair. Miranda closes her eyes, sinking into him, relieved. "I didn't—I shouldn't— I'm sorry."  HE sighs, and Miranda can feel the rumble vibrating through him, pressed so closely to his chest. "Dumbledore asked me to do something for him and I've been failing, in fact—I just failed again today. It's not you I'm upset with, it's myself. I took it out on you, and that's not fair. It was a bad day, and I was counting on our anniversary to make it better, and I wanted to see you and I didn't. But that's not your fault. I don't want to fight with you, Miranda."

"I don't want to fight with you either." Miranda whispers softly, pressing her nose into the crook of his neck. "I'm sorry I missed our anniversary."

"I'm sorry I was such dick about it." Harry chuckles lightly, tilting her chin up. Their lips meet, and Miranda reaches her arms around his neck as he pulls her in by her waist. Harry smiles, caressing her cheek with his thumb, and holding his other hand out in a question.

"What are you doing?" asks Miranda, wanting to kiss him longer.

"Dance with me?" Harry's hand is still outstretched, inviting.

"There's no music." But Miranda takes his hand all the same. She always takes his hand. Even against her better judgment. Even when they were strangers. She always takes Harry's hand, when given the chance.

They begin to sway softly around the stone floor. She rests her head on his shoulder as they dance,  allowing herself  to relaxi into the familiar feel of his body. He twirls her around, and she giggles, she loves this side of him.

"So you had a bad day huh?" she plants a kiss on his jaw, placing his hands just above the curve of her hips. Her fingertips trail along his chest.

He deepens the kiss, "Mmm it's getting better." Slowly, she strips her clothes off one by one, and the stars twinkle above them, making her golden hair shine. Harry watches in wide eyed awe, "Aren't you cold?"

Miranda's lips smirk mischievously, batting her eyelashes in innocence, "I guess you're just going to have to find some way to keep me warm."

"Today has been officially upgraded to bloody brilliant," Harry grins broadly, pulling her in for another kiss.

"Glad I could help," she smiles as they melt into one another, the moonlight casting a faint glow on the spires of the Owlery.

She'll take Harry Potter's hand forever.

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XOXO,

COLLEEN