the lucky one

silliness

Rumors are flying that some of the convicts have been spotted in Hogsmeade, that they are supposed to be hiding out in the Shrieking Shack and that they are going to break into Hogwarts, just as Sirius Black had done. Those who come from Wizarding families have grown up hearing the names of these Death Eaters spoken with almost as much fear as Voldemort's; the crimes they had committed during the days of Voldemort's reign of terror are legendary. There are relatives of their victims among the Hogwarts students, who now find themselves the unwilling objects of a gruesome sort of reflected fame as they walk the corridors.

Umbridge has slowly taken over life at Hogwarts. New decrees are posted every day and she's even established a group called the "High Inquisitors" in hopes of catching their secret army. It feels as though she is around each and every corner, lying in wait. Miranda's hand is bloody so often now she barely notices it. Hermione has set up several essence of murtlap bowls in the common room for the Gryffindor students to utilize, they've been quite helpful.

Miranda walks anxiously through the corridors after a D.A. meeting, narrowly avoiding Filch and yellow eyed Mrs. Norris. She hardly notices, however. During the meeting, Cho had practically bee hanging off Harry's arm, asking him a million questions about Stunning spells. They had been reviewing for fuck's sake. Miranda's stomach churns just thinking about it.

In her haste, she slams right into a person, thrown back onto the floor with such force it nearly knocks the wind out of her. "Ow! Shit—!" Miranda curses under her breath, as she pulls herself to sitting. Her robes are soaked through with ink, a bottle that had been in her schoolbag having exploded.

A cold, sneering voice says, "Should've watched where you were—Miranda?" Miranda looks up into Draco's face. She hasn't spoken to him since their fight before Christmas. Hasn't had the time to even think about reconciliation. "Miranda," Draco repeats. Very softly. His tone, his expression, everything about his manner has completely changed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—" he reaches out a hand to help her up, "are you okay, M?"

Miranda does not take his hand, getting herself back up on her feet and brushing her robes off best she could. "Fine," she informs him in a very dignified tone.

"Miranda, c'mon," Draco pleads. "Will you just talk to me? Let's go to the tree. I'm sorry. Can't we talk about this?"

She wants to tell him no. She really does. But seeing his face, well, it reminds her of how much she misses him. How weird it is that she misses him more now that they go to the same school then when they were thousands of miles apart. She remembers all the good times they had together. Before everything got so damn complicated. He's her best friend. And she loves him. He's had bad influences. They can work this out. She can fix this. Miranda inhales, "Alright, Draco."

"Really?" Draco beams.

"Let's go." Together, they head down to their tree, the winter wind nipping at their noses harshly. The grass is covered by a thick blanket a tightly packed snow, Miranda's boots barely making a dent in the frozen top layer.

"I want to apologize," Draco starts quietly, pulling his ridiculously expensive scarf tighter around his neck. He's nervous. Miranda sometimes thinks she might be the only person who has ever seen Draco Malfoy nervous. A fact that she loves and hates all at once.

Miranda folds her arms, unrelenting, "Go ahead."

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?" Draco asks, a small smirk playing on his lips. Miranda just stares at him, waiting. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I lied to you, okay?" he shoves his hands deep within his pockets. "It's not like I'm proud of it or anything."

"You had a choice," she replies hotly. "I told you not to, and then I even gave you the opportunity to make amends. You didn't have to—"

Draco interrupts her swiftly, "Yes, I did. That's the thing, You just don't get it. There are certain expectations—"