A/N- I have decided to change the title for this story because I found another 7 stories called Sleeping With the Enemy, and one Sleeping With the Enemies. Danke once again to my beta Kelly. ) Sorry this chapter is so long, I didn't know where I was going with it when I started to write it. And one more thing- I need reviewers!

Disclaimer- I do not own anything you recognise, it is all JK Rowling's. Anything you don't already recognise (eg Miranda) are MINE ALL MINE!

Chapter Three- Mystery Girl

Harry arrived back home long before Dudley. He was shattered but Uncle Vernon made him sit through a long, bellowed speech about why Harry shouldn't just leave unannounced like he had today (only Uncle Vernon swore a lot more in his version) because Heaven knows what could have happened. Harry knew that his uncle was not being kind and looking out for his wellbeing, but more that he wanted him to stay indoors and suffer, but also in case he performed any magic and people saw him. If people saw what a 'freak' Harry actually was (in Uncle Vernon's opinion), then the Dursleys themselves would be associated with the weirdness of it all. Uncle Vernon didn't want anything to tarnish his reputation as the most average family on the street.

Harry nearly yelled with triumph when his Uncle ordered him to go to bed. He quickly changed into his night clothes, his mind racing. It was not filled up, as it had been all summer of grief for Sirius, but excitement over this girl. Miranda.

Harry felt his heart skip a beat when he mentioned her name. Miranda. Shivers went down his spine. It was such a beautiful name, so exotic and unusual. It suited the person perfectly.

It was at that moment that Hedwig, Harry's snowy owl, arrived back home with a dead mouse in her beak. When Harry let her in, she swooped over to her cage looking for some rest and relaxation, not to mention some water, but what she actually found was... Pigwidgeon! In her cage! Drinking her water and eating her Owl Treats!

That was when Harry remembered- Ron had written to him. He scribbled a note that he was okay but missing Sirius dreadfully, he was sorry for the delay but he had been out -he didn't feel the need to mention he'd been very angry at him, or even the point to stay angry at him anymore, he was so happy-, and dropped in a word or two about the wonderous Miranda.

Harry had never felt this way about another girl before, not even Cho Chang, not that he told Ron that. This was the kind of information that Harry liked to keep to himself.

Harry rolled the letter up and sent Pigwidgeon on his way, much to the delight of a rather more cheerful Hedwig who was pleased to have her cage back. She nipped his finger ever so slightly to thank him before hopping into her cage.

While the owl settled herself, Harry took off his glasses, placed them by his bedroom table and switched off his lamp. He couldn't stop thinking about the night's events... Miranda in particular. Who was she? Would she be living near here? How old was she? How many times could he see her? The answer to the last question, Harry hoped, was lots! Lots and lots and lots.

As he closed his eyes, there was a small part of him that felt slightly bad that he wasn't thinking as much about Sirius as he had been in the previous few weeks, but he knew that Sirius would have been happy for him to meet Miranda, have wanted him to move on...

As soon as the scuffling and rustling from Hedwig's direction ceased and silence took over, Harry allowed himself to be lured almost instantly into a deep sleep, in which he dreamed that Miranda came to the Dursleys' house in the Weasleys' old flying Ford Anglia. She flew the car to the summit of Ben Nevis, the highest mountain in Britain, parked on the top, looked into his eyes and kissed him. Then, when she pulled away, from his lips, she turned into Buckbeak the hippogriff, but with Sirius' head, and Harry watched as his/ her -he didn't know whether it was actually Sirius or Miranda- soul left its body and floated up to Heaven.

Harry jolted awake. He just had to find out more about that girl.

There was a smell of frying bacon in the house, though he knew he wouldn't get to eat it. He, Dudley and Petunia were following Dudley's diet of fruits, salads and anything else considered healthy. Uncle Vernon, however, was the exception to the rule. While Dudley was having lie-ins all during the summer holidays, Aunt Petunia was cooking all sorts of foods, such as cakes, bacon rolls and fry-ups for her husband to eat in the morning and take to work for lunch. It was sneaky, underhand and deceitful, in fact Harry could probably expect something along the lines of it from the likes of Draco Malfoy, or even himself!

He glanced out of the window. It was the same as yesterday- the sun was shining, there were no clouds in sight, and already some of the residents of Privet Drive were out in their front gardens, the women wearing bikini tops and rolled up shorts, the men were topless, and the kids, in their holiday clothes running around a lawn with water pistols. Harry threw some oversized shorts -they, like every item in his wardrobe, used to belong to Dudley- on, and a very baggy t-shirt, shoved his glasses on and made his way downstairs.

Aunt Petunia was scrubbing the frying pan and the kitchen smelt distinctly of lavender air freshener. Uncle Vernon was reading the morning paper at the table.

When Aunt Petunia heard footsteps, she turned round, dropping the cloth into the sink with a loud plop.

"Oh," she gasped sounding relieved. "It's only you." And she went back to the washing up. Uncle Vernon grunted in acknowledgement without even looking up from his paper.

"Have some melon," said Aunt Petunia. "There's a bowl for you over there." She indicated the worktops with her hand that had the cloth in it, soaking Uncle Vernon's newspaper and Harry with soapy water while she did so.

Harry went over to the worksurface where two bowls were lying out. One had about the smallest slice Aunt Pentunia could have cut on it, and the other, about three-quarters of a full melon. Harry's stomach grumbled and he realised just how hungry he was. He had hardly ate anything since he lost Sirius, and now all his hunger was catching up on him.

"The other one's yours, Boy," growled Uncle Vernon as Harry took his seat at the table. Harry had chosen the the large portion, even though it had obviously been left for Dudley. He was feeling rather good for a change, all down to the mysterious Miranda, so decided to have a little fun with the Dursleys, play with their heads a little. His hunger was taking over him, telling him to do things he wouldn't normally do.

"I've decided that this is mine," said Harry, "as I'm really hungry."

Uncle Vernon's face slowly but surely turned scarlet. "That is Dudley's you ungrateful little-"

He was suddenly cut off by a loud scream from Aunt Petunia because Harry was pointing his wand at her. He wouldn't use it against her in a million years, but the Dursleys didn't know that.

"Put it away!" hissed Uncle Vernon. "One of the neighbours might see it. But anyway," he added smugley, "you're not allowed to use that thing yet. It's breaking your rules."

"How do you know the rules haven't changed?" asked Harry.

Uncle Vernon looked at his terrified wife who glared back at him, her eyes wide like dinnder plates.

"Do something, Vernon," she pleaded.

"Oh all right," he muttered. "What do you want, Harry? Just don't hurt her."

"All I want's the melon," he stated simply.

"Fine. Eat it." Uncle Vernon had caved in and Harry lowered his wand.

He ate in silence. Once he had finished, he took his bowl to the sink and proceeded to wash it. After all, he had just threatened his aunt with magic, the least he could do was wash up after himself.

"Thanks Aunt Petunia," he said. "That was delicious." And he left his aunt and uncle sitting at the table in astonishment.

Harry checked his watch as he made his way through the Dursley's front garden. It was nearly eleven o' clock, which meant that he had ages to wait before seeing Miranda, but he was pleased just to be out of the house and in the heat.

Harry let his mind wander as his feet led him through Magnolia Cresent. The warmth of the sun hit the back of his neck as he walked. What he would have given for a Muggle ice lolly to cool him down...

Some little kids, no older than eight, cycled past him so suddenly that he had to jump in front of a parked car to avoid them. There was a tinkling noise as several silver coins fell out of a blurred blob's pocket as he whizzed by. It was money.

"Hey, kids!" Harry yelled after them, but it was no use- they were too far away. Harry watched as they sped down the street and round the corner. He glanced at the coins on the ground. Maybe he would treat himself to that ice lolly...

The trip to the newsagents was quite a trek for Harry. He hadn't been in it for over five years, and even before then he'd not been in it often. The journey should have taken him around five minutes, but Harry managed to lose his way three times, nearly got run over and tripped over a yapping miniature poodle that had got its lead tangled in his legs as it ran away from its owner. He eventually arrived at the little shop around forty-five minutes later, looking worse for wear with a rip in his t-shirt from some family's hedge and a graze on his knee to go with his scar.

Air conditioning, Harry thought, is the best thing Muggles ever invented.

He could feel the sweat on the back of his neck as he made his way through the shop to the freezer.

The shop was quite small and extremely cramped as it was very busy. Harry counted out the change the boy had dropped. He had one pound twenty-five to spend, so he could practically have any lolly he wanted. There was hardly anything left, but he saw a cheap lemon lolly that he quite liked, so fished it out and joined the queue of five or so people. Harry looked around. At the front of the queue, talking to one of the shopkeepers, was a man and -who Harry figured was- his daughter. Harry must have stared at him a little too long because the man turned round with the feeling that someone was watching him.

The man himself had long-ish black hair, rather like Harry's least favourite teacher, Professor Severus Snape's, except much less greasy. It was parted neatly and the man wore a smart black outfit, despite the heat of the day.

He glanced around the store, his eyes resting on everything (including Harry, who had now looked away) for no longer than a millisecond, but when he turned back, he did the most peculiar thing.

The man muttered something to his daughter, indicating something in he shop with his hand. Without saying another word, she simply handed him the black denim jacket she was carrying for him and he put it on! Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing.

The shopkeeper told him the total for the items, and then laughed as the man took out a handful of change for his daughter to count out.

"Forgive us," Harry heard him say jokingly, in a distinct American accent, "we're foreign."

The shopkeeper chuckled as they picked up their bag and made for the exit.

When the man passed him, his jacket brushed against Harry's arm, so Harry looked up to find that the girl following him was-

"Miranda!" he exclaimed.

"Harry," she stated, somewhat unsurprised.

"Who's your friend, Miranda," drawled the man with the jacket. Harry couldn't help noticing he had a rather smug voice.

"Harry, this is my father. Dad, meet Harry."

"So, Harry. We finally meet," said Miranda's father, shaking his hand.

"Finally?" asked a bemused Harry.

Miranda laughed. "Let's just say my dad's heard a lot about you."

Harry felt his cheeks reddening.

"Here," said Miranda. "We'll wait with you."

"Cool," replied Harry.

Her dad checked his watch. "I'm sorry darling, I don't think I can. Urgent business," he told her. "You stay. I'll come and get you again. Same time, same place." He turned to Harry, his eyes fixated on his scar. "Goodbye, Harry."

"Bye Daddy!" called Miranda.

"Bye, Mr-" Harry froze. What was Miranda's surname? What shuold he call her father? He improvised by saying, "Bye, Sir."

Miranda laughed even harder.

"You just called my father 'Sir'," she gasped. "That's so cute!"

Harry blushed even more.

He bought the lolly and they went outside, Harry eating quickly so it didn't melt anymore than it already had in the shop.

They walked in the direction of the nearest town, talking excitedly. No matter how many things he wanted to ask her- her surname, her hobbies, if she was single- Harry found himself doing all the talking.

It couldn't have been more than five minutes later when a loud crack filled the air. Harry recognised it instantly as the sound of someone Apparating, or disappearing in one place and reappearing somewhere else almost instantly.

He panicked and started looking around. Was his headteacher, Dumbledore, having him followed like he had last summer? Or worse, were Voldemort's Death Eaters tailing him, just waiting to pounce? These questions raced through his mind as he looked in all directions of Glassford Avenue.

"Is something wrong?" asked Miranda, a wave of concern washing over her face.

"Uhm," began Harry anxiously, "no. It's just... nothing. It's fine."

"Well if you're sure..."

Harry was on lookout for the rest of the day. He saw no-one he recognised from the Order; no Tonks, no Lupin, no Mundungus. He also saw no-one that he knew was a Death Eater- Lestrange, Malfoy, Avery. Then again, would Death Eaters be foolish enough to show themselves to the person they were going to kill?

By the end of the day, Harry still hadn't seen anything from the magical world. In fact, six days later, having spent all his time outside with Miranda and passing the place he was so sure someone had Apparated from many-a-time and seeing nothing, he was starting to worry that he had imagined it, or that it was a just a perfectly normal Muggle sound. He wondered whether he had been so desperate to hear from his world that he turned a Muggle sound into a magical spell.

Another thing he realised was that even though he was spending all his time with Miranda, he knew no more about her than he did on the night he met her. He had explained all about himself (skimming over the magical parts), while she had done all the listening.

Only one thing was clear in Harry's mind when he went to bed that night- he had to find out more about her.