the lucky one

blackout

"Draco!" Miranda leaps away from Harry, quickly mumbling something about seeing him later, and sprints after the streak of platinum blonde. Harry will understand. He knows she has to do this. "Draco, wait!"

This is not good. This is not good at all. Sure, they've been fighting a lot lately. More than usual. But they always make up in the end. Miranda has been purposefully avoiding telling Draco about her and Harry for this exact reason. She's been avoiding him, period. And now— him finding out thisway. Discovering that she's been hiding it from him, lying to him. Well, that will only exacerbate his reaction. He's already so touchy when it comes to Harry.

Miranda races down the grassy hill, stumbling a bit over some rocks, "Draco— please, stop. Draco—!" She finally comes even with him, catching the sleeve of his robes in her right hand just as they reach their usual meeting place at the tree. How fitting. Miranda pants, extraordinarily out of breath. "Draco, let me explain. Okay? I know you're upset but—"

"How long?" Draco wrenches away from her, eyes blazing.

"Draco—"

"How long?" he demands, unrelenting. His voice is hard, angry.

Miranda sinks her teeth into her lower lip. "Almost three months," she says quietly.

"Three months?!" Draco roars, saliva flecks flying from his mouth. "Three—"

"Calm down, D," Miranda implores, beseeching him. If she can just explain it to him. Help him understand. She can fix this. She can fix this. "I know— I know you don't like him—"

"Don't like him?!" Draco cries out incredulously, borderline manic. "You know exactly how I feel about him. You know. And you've just been lying to me for months."

"And I'm sorry about that," Miranda tells him earnestly. "Really, I am. But can you blame me? I was afraid of this. I was trying prevent exactly this. To protect you—"

"Don't give me that shit," Draco snaps angrily, mouth in a tight line. "Don't you dare. You don't get to act all hurt. Like you were sparing me, my feelings." He scoffs bitterly, "You weren't thinking about anyone but yourself."

"That's not fair, D," says Miranda, temper rising. She inhales and exhales slowly, trying to keep it from boiling over. "Listen to me. I know you and Harry have your issues. But I'm happy." She looks up at him hopefully. "I'm really happy. I really really like him. Harry makes me happy. That's all that matters." Miranda presses a hand to her heart, "It's not about him. It's not about you. It's about me. So please— please just be happy for me. Be happy I'm happy, Draco."

Draco sneers at her. "Happy?" he spits. "You want me to be happy for you?" His voice is rising in volume by the second, fury only intensifying as he begins a rant. "Sure, I'm fucking happy that you're with Potter. Potter who consistently puts you in dangerous situations because he doesn't care about you. He doesn't care about you like I do. He'll never— who told you about the raid last month? Him or me? Who warned you? Was it fucking Potter?" Draco yells. "No. It was me."

"The only reason you were able to warn me is because you were the one doing the fucking raiding, Draco," Miranda fires back. Now Miranda is upset too, "You do not get to act so high and mighty—"

"Don't blame me for that!" Draco  shouts. "That is his fault, you hear me? He's the idiot who created the damn thing. It is his fault. Not mine. Blame him. I tried— I tried to protect you and you didn't listen." With each blow of his words Draco steps closer and closer to her, lip curling dangerously. "It is always his fault. Everyone thinks he's a fucking hero. You want me to be happy for you? You have fucking matching scars with him, happy about that?" Draco grabs her wrist aggressively. And for the first time, Miranda is afraid of him. "Draco, stop it!" she strains, trying to slip out of his grasp. "You're hurting me!" Miranda looks up at him with fear in her eyes, suddenly releasing how much bigger he is than her. Taller. Stronger.