the lucky one

boom

It is the day after Dumbledore's funeral. Miranda stands on the balcony, arms resting on the railing, letting the breeze ruffle her hair. Mateo stands beside her. Her gaze is ahead, on the distant mountain range. The day is clear, the crystal blue of the lake shimmering up at them. The sun glares down at her, bright and happy, almost taunting her. Miranda shields her eye from it, silent. Everything is quieter these days. Sometimes, Miranda wonders if the quiet will ever stop.

After the fight, Severus had contacted them, further detailing what they already knew. The twins would be staying at his house until further notice, they may be required to go undercover, and of course, they couldn't tell anyone anything. Miranda was going to have to act as if Harry meant nothing to her, when really he was everything to her. It was too risky for them to stay together, they both had massive targets on their backs, and Miranda knew too much. Harry had to die and it would only make it harder if he thought he was leaving Miranda behind. She can't explain to him why she's staying with Snape, or tell him why she would be hanging around Death Eaters. She can't tell him anything. Their time was up. The grim countdown that had loomed since the very beginning of their relationship finally dwindling down to an end.

They were doomed from the start, Miranda often thinks to herself, somewhat bitterly. Cursed as infants, destined for death. Neither can live while the other survives. The same was true for her and Harry.

"You ready?" asks Mateo softly, eyes trained on the horizon. She wasn't the only one leaving someone behind. Miranda was glad Ginny was tough, resilient. Mateo could explain more to her. Not that it made this situation any better.

"No," she murmurs, exhaling.

Mateo lets out a tired, resigned puff of air, nudging her with his shoulder, "You'll be alright."

"No," Miranda repeats with a subdued sigh, smiling tightly. "I won't. But that doesn't matter." Not much did. Not anymore. It's funny. She always thought Harry would be the one breaking things off with her for some stupid, noble reason. To think, she accused him of having a savior complex. It was her turn to be the hero. Harry certainly deserved one.

Mateo hugs her briefly and goes to find Ginny as Harry approaches Miranda.

"Hi there," Harry drops a kiss on the crown of her head, and Miranda feels her heart begin to crack.

"Hello, Harry," she says, swallowing hard. She will be strong. She is strong.

"I've missed you, Mandy," Harry flashes a sweet smile at her, thumbing the side of her cheek.

"Hm," she hums, mustering what she hopes is a loving expression that matches his own. Her heart continues to splinter and she sucks in a deep, breath, steeling herself.

He's nervous. Miranda isn't sure why. But she can tell all the same. He's fidgeting, babbling a little. More awkward than usual. It reminds her of fourth and fifth year Harry. Who turned red and fumbled when she made eye contact with him or when she embraced him out of the blue. The one who would say something with a grin that made her blush and then blushed himself out of the sheer surprise he'd gotten the courage to say such a thing. She misses it. Misses the before. Misses when the most pressing thing on her mind was her growing jealousy of Cho Chang. The memory of the dorky fifteen year old boy who had a crush on her makes what she's about to do even more insurmountable.

"So—I actually wanted to talk to you about something," Harry mumbles self consciously. Miranda turns from him, working up to the task at hand. She's barely listening. She can't look at him. Won't face him. "And I know you said you had something to tell me too, but I'm going to go first." Harry continues without taking a breath, "I'm not coming back to Hogwarts this year. Neither are Ron or Hermione. I—we have a mission from Dumbledore and I want you to come with me. The four of us. I love you and I don't want to spend a second away from you, and I know we're young but—" Harry pulls out the infamous ring and gets down on one knee, "Miranda—"