the lucky one

observations

october 31st, 1994

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It has been over a month since the start of the year, and Miranda is slowly settling into life at Hogwarts. She has grown close with Hermione, Harry, and even Ron, much to Draco's chagrin. She still doesn't understand why they all hate each other with such passion.

    Harry and Draco are so similar in some ways that it feels silly that they aren't friends.

    Miranda's favorite class quickly became Potions, with Defense Against the Dark Arts coming in a close second. No matter what Harry says, she thinks Professor Snape is a good teacher, although he did pick on Harry an awful lot.

    All anyone could talk about these days was the upcoming selection of Triwizard Champions tonight. Fred and George had tried, and failed in putting their names in the goblet despite being underage. She had heard that Cedric Diggory put his name in yesterday, and she hopes he'll be selected. Cedric is her partner in Advanced Charms, and always very nice.

    Miranda walks through the hall briskly, cold air nipping at her cheeks. The leaves have gone a gorgeous burnt auburn colour, and she's loving that she actually gets to experience seasons in this marvelous castle. She's meeting Draco at their spot, and she's running late. In her haste, she slams straight in to Harry, who's coming out of Trelawney's class.

    "Oi!" Harry exclaims, steadying her by her shoulders. "Slow down, McGonagall," he chuckles, "where are you going?"

    Miranda brushes past him, apologizing quickly, "Sorry Harry, I'm just late to meet Draco and..."

    Harry's face darkens, his jaw clenching. His typical reaction whenever Miranda dares mention his name.  "You're still doing that?"

    "Seeing my best friend?" Miranda sucks in her cheeks. Harry could be so  irritating when it came to this. Thankfully, the only person more stubborn than Harry, is her. "Yes." she replies shortly, voice dripping with sarcasm.

    "I still don't get it. I mean— it's bloody Malfoy," Harry grumbles,  practically spitting the name out of his mouth with distaste.

    "Harry..." she warns, crossing her arms

    He knocks his head back with a grunt, obviously still unhappy, "I know. I know." Harry sighs deeply, "Sorry— whatever, just— go." He walks away. Miranda wishes Draco and her new friends would get along. It would make everything so much easier. Figures that they would be one another's sworn nemeses. She groans inwardly, making her way to the grassy knoll where Draco lounges lazily against a tree.

    "Took you long enough, slowpoke," Draco teases, smug.

    Miranda shakes her head, shoving him, "Whatever D, I'm not the one who showed up to Potions twenty minutes late wearing pyjamas."

    "One time! That happened one time!" he protests emphatically.

    "And I'll never let you forget it." Miranda replies mischievously, laying on her back and letting the fall sun warm her face. Draco lays down beside her, again marveling at her beauty. The way her hair spills out on the green grass, shining like it was woven with gold. Her eyes, diamonds, dance as she talks, cheeks flushed and covered with a constellation of freckles that he would give the world to trace with his fingertips. Her hand rests just inches from his, a slight movement from him and they would be touching. He can almost feel her soft fingertips. What would happen if he moved his hand just a little closer? If he laced his fingers through hers? Warmth and—