the lucky one

feeling blue

"C'mon Mandy let me see," Harry knocks on the bathroom door. Early morning light filters in through the gauzy curtains, and Miranda dares a peek in the reflection of the mirrors again.

She wails helplessly, "No! It's bad, I'll be living in here now, let everyone know."

"It cannot be that bad."

"I should never let drunk Ginny decide things," Miranda groans, head butting the door.

"Just come out, love," Harry wheedles. Miranda can hear the sweet lilt of his voice, and smile sin spite of her anguish. "I promise I won't laugh."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

Miranda carefully and discreetly opens the door of the bathroom,  just a crack. She can see Harry peering at her from his place on the bed, an expression of light amusement on his face. Slowly, she shuffles out, hood over her head.

"Take the hood off please."

When she does, Harry bites his lip, stifling a snicker. He coughs pointedly.

"Harry James Potter you promised you wouldn't laugh!"

"I'm sorry, it's just very— blue." Harry snorts and Miranda begins to hit him. He picks her up and slings her over his shoulder, as she continues to pummel his back with her tiny, inneffectual fists. Harry just laughs, and soon, Miranda cannot help but join in, blue hair hanging in her face as she dangles upside down.

Miranda sighs, "Hermione swears she can turn it back."

"No— no, it's growing on me," smirks Harry, in the sort of way that always makes Miranda want to throttle him and kiss him all at once.

"I hate you."

"I'm serious," he grins, ruffling her hair.

She scowls, "I feel like a blueberry."

Harry chuckles, pulling her back into his chest and dropping a kiss on  the top of her head, "A very attractive blueberry." When she remains frowning, he adds, more seriously, "C'mon Mandy you know I'd love you even if you were horribly scarred and disfigured. Hell, I think I'd love you even if you were a toad." He wags a stern finger at her, "Don't get any ideas, I don't want Gin to turn you into any sort of amphibian next."

Miranda shakes her head vigorously as she snaps back to the present, clearing any and all thoughts of Harry from her mind. This happens far to often for her liking. If she is not actively doing something, occupying herself, it is all too easy to dwell on the past. Moments from sixth year play on an endless loop in her mind. Over and over again, reliving the same memories. It brings her fleeting joy, that quickly dissipates after the dissociation breaks and she is forced back to her harsh reality.

She longs for the days when the most pressing thing on her mind was her growing jealousy of Cho Chang. The days that, while often hard and draining, intermingled with grief and loss, were spent together. All six of them, they had each other. And they laughed, and they cried, and theylived, together.

Her and Mateo are searching feverishly through newspapers. They received word from Evelyn and Sirius that Luna had not returned to Hogwarts after the holiday, and are trying to find any piece of information that might help them locate her.

"How does her disappearance connect to everyone else's?" Mateo unearths an old clipping, talking more to himself than anyone else. "Ollivander, that goblin from Gringotts, the—"