Hello all! So sorry it's been a few weeks! This chapter needed a lot of retooling from it's original state, and I am MUCH happier with it now. I hope you enjoy!

Miranda hadn't understood why Hermione had given her the locket back the night before. Hermione had said that it, 'didn't make her feel right', but Miranda didn't notice any difference. Keeping the locket all the time wasn't the best plan. She'd had a problem with losing things when she was younger, and Tom had often told her that she'd have lost her head if it wasn't attached.

She missed Tom more and more everyday. His name entered her thoughts more than she would have liked, and she had to work hard not to be a hinderance to the other three, especially with Ron seeking to unload her at every turn. She was nearly ready to throttle the red head, but could never get close enough to him to do so. He always managed to see her coming and would scoot out of the way or call for one of the others.

Harry had undergone another night terror while he was on his watch that first night, and Hermione had found him and banished him to bed. He had seemed unbalanced by whatever he had seen, and, for the first time since they had been together, Miranda hadn't seen it too. While Hermione was finishing Harry's watch, Ron had interrogated Harry about the vision of the wand maker Gregorovitch and her brother, and Miranda had listened to them in her darkness.

Being with the other three the next few days was refreshing though. Miranda had been reduced to a giggling mess when Ron had started screaming during their third evening on the run. "'Mione, she's going to kill me! Keeps staring at me like I'm food!"

"Ronald, really. First of all, she can't see you, and second, she's not a cannibal." Hermione had snapped, but Miranda could hear the smile in her voice.

"That reminds me." Miranda said, standing on her own more easily than the day before, only wobbling a minuscule bit. "If I'm not to look like an outright weakness, perhaps we should cover my eyes with something."

"Like sunglasses?" Hermione asked. Miranda nodded, Hermione laughed, "I think I can manage a pair."

"Thank you." Miranda said, and a string of curses came from behind the tent.

Harry had been trying to destroy the locket, and was apparently having very little luck. Already standing, Miranda stumbled her way to him...or his rather loud expletives. "Harry." She said softly, "Harry." He just continued, "Harry!" She finally bellowed over his voice.

He stopped.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

He put his hand on her shoulder, letting her know how close she had gotten to him without knowing, "Yeah, just frustrated, I can't even put a dent in it."

"That doesn't seem like a reason to scream at it." Miranda told him, smiling wryly.

He shook his head, and Miranda felt the air stir on her face. "I just don't know anything else to try. How are was supposed to destroy it if we can't even scratch it?"

Miranda put her hand over his, "You'll figure it out, Harry. I know you will."

"You don't have to look at it though. It's like it's mocking me." He growled.

Miranda laughed, "It's an inanimate object, I doubt it's mocking you. Come on now, Hermione is almost done fixing supper."

"Miranda." He said, stopping her. "Your eyes. I've only just noticed, but they're hazel now. They were blue before."

She furrowed her brow, "I was told they changed when my Papa gave me the snake, but I've only ever seen my eyes as blue." She bit her lip, "Obviously."

"I like them." He said, brushing her hair out of her face in an intimate gesture that sent a shiver down her spine, "Come on, Hermione probably thinks I've accidentally spelled you into next week trying to destroy this stupid thing."

"Ron would like that." Miranda said under her breath, ducking into the tent. She could tell Ron was staring at Hermione again because when he was staring at Hermione he was silent.

Miranda sat at the table and chose her next words carefully, "I was thinking."

"Here she goes again." Ron grumbled, and Miranda had had enough of his snarky-ness for one night. She hurled a salt shaker in his direction. "Bloody hell." He squawked, but it appeared that he caught it because he unfortunately didn't sound like he was in pain.

"May I please speak, Ronald, or must I ask Hermione to transfigure a talking stick for us to pass around at dinner time? I wasn't aware we had brought a first year with us." Miranda said with a sweet smile that earned a chuckle from Harry. The red head mumbled something about her being madder than Hermione, but otherwise remained quiet. "Anyway, I was thinking about what we're going to do about our food supply. We can't very well live off mushrooms for long."

"I was thinking about that too." Hermione said, spooning some of her...instant...potatoes onto her plate, an item which the other three were not near brave enough to sample. It didn't matter that the potatoes were the only thing Hermione had packed in her bag and the only other food they had to eat were wild mushrooms. "I think going to any town would be too dangerous..."

"That's my point exactly. It would be dangerous for you all, but not for me." Miranda interrupted in her excitement.

"Miranda, don't be daft, half the Ministry saw you when you were there." Harry snapped.

Miranda shrugged, trying to cover up the sting of his tone, "No, they saw Albert Runcorn's niece Olivia. You all saw me, but everyone else saw her. My own version of Polyjuice potion. My voice was the same, but, to everyone who didn't know me, my face looked like Olivia's."

"She's a real person?" Hermione asked, and Miranda thought she heard the girl with a pen scratching on parchment.

"I had to make it believable, and, once you all had settled on who you were Polyjuicing yourselves as, I decided to do more research. Olivia Alba Runcorn is a permanent resident at St. Mungo's, she's mad you see. The Ministry will have to assume that you confunded her to add backbone to your own portrayals." She shrugged again, "I might be slightly uncontrolled, but I'm thorough."

Hermione huffed, "When did you have time to brew something like Polyjuice on your own?"

Miranda grimaced, "The small cauldron in the corner of the potions lab. I wasn't hiding it. It's just…none of you asked."

She could imagine the confused look on Hermione's face, "But that actually smelled…palatable?"

Miranda laughed shortly, "It tastes like floor varnish, not much better than Polyjuice itself I'm afraid."

"Well even I'll admit that's impressive, but to use a mad girl? That's wrong." Ron growled.

Miranda nodded, "I know. I feel rubbish about it, but the mediwizards have hope that within the next few years she will be back to normal. She tried to kill herself and ended up in St. Mungos, no one is going to hold her responsible for anything we did."

"Why would she try to kill herself?" Ron asked.

"I'm not certain. Probably a boy, she was a pretty girl." Miranda said, "That is all beside the point though. I can go into cities and get us supplies, and someone can use Harry's cloak to guide me around. People would notice floating stuff. It's better than stealing, right?"

Harry said, "No!" As Hermione said, "Brilliant!"

Miranda clenched her jaw, "Harry, please, we did nearly the same thing in London not half a week ago!"

"You weren't blind then."

Harry's comment hit a nerve, and she slammed her napkin on the table, "Well, Harry, that's not likely to change, is it?" She stood up and walked the the girls' side of the tent, jerking the thin separation screen closed.

She sat on the edge of her cot, breathing deeply so as not to lose her temper any further. She could hear the others talking but didn't care enough to try to decipher their muffled words. "When did thing become so hard?" She whispered, remembering the days that all she had to worry about was getting her father to let her go visit Ollivander in his store or to go shopping with Walburga. She had been blissfully naive until her brother had turned so badly evil. The secret was stifling her.

Or had things gone wrong before then? In remembering the weeks before her imprisonment, Miranda had recalled a fight with Brennan. The things he'd said. The truth in his words she had refused to acknowledge. She was such an idiot. How could she trust anyone if she couldn't have even trusted her best friend or Papa? They'd effectively killed her. Miranda Riddle was dead. That was the truth too.

Miranda Peverell was still too naive though. Why did Harry loathe letting her get in on the action so badly?

In an instant, her anger linked her to what was left of Tom. He was sickeningly gleeful: "Malfoy, can you tell me how things are going at Hogwarts with your son?"

The blonde man trembled in fear, "He is at the top of the class, My Lord. He has brought many of his fellow students to your cause."

Tom hexed the man, "I did not ask for his class rank, you useless fool!" The man she knew as Lucius Malfoy cried out in pain. Miranda reached out her hand, to try to force Tom to lower his wand, to stop hurting the poor man.

"Forgive me!" He cried.

Tom sneered at him, "Lucius, your son is worthless to me at Hogwarts. I have other children there to convert their peers. Draco shows so much promise. I would hate to see his talents go to waste in a place like Hogwarts. They aren't teaching him what I expect my elite Death Eaters to know."

Lucius nodded, "I will ask Draco tonight."

Tom used the stinging curse on him, and the Malfoy's fingers were clenched in the rug under him. "I did not ask you to ask your son to join me. I told you to bring him here. You have until tomorrow morning to bring him here, or the lovely Narcissa will have a very bad time of the next few weeks."

"Yes, My Lord. Yes, please, just spare us." Lucius begged.

Tom...no, it wasn't right to call him that any more, he was Voldemort. There was no denying it for Miranda any more when he slammed the Malfoy's head against the floor with his leather booted foot, "You stupid fool, you would give me your son to save yourself. Pathetic. I should kill you for spinelessness. Bring him to me."

Miranda woke up from Tom's mind to the feeling of Harry's panic from across the tent. Somehow the bond she'd felt with Harry had ripped her away from the bond she had with the remnants of her brother. Miranda was vertical in a second, doing her best not to trip as she made her way to the common area of the tent where the trio were.

Harry was shaking, Ron and Hermione standing over him. "I couldn't...make one." He clutched at his side as he tried to catch his breath, "Wouldn't...come."

Hermione and Ron both made sounds of dismay.

Every angry thought Miranda had for him fled her mind, "Harry!" She exclaimed, lunging to his side, "What happened?" He wouldn't speak, Miranda took his hand, so much larger than her own, "Harry, what happened?" She looked up pleadingly towards the other two, and even though she couldn't see them, she felt like glaring at them would help, "Will someone speak to me?"

"He tried to go into town on his own to get food." Hermione said, "There were Dementors." She said, as if it explained anything. It didn't.

Miranda was confused, and she held Harry's hand under her chin, "What's a Dementor?"

Ron scoffed, "How do you not know what a Dementor is?"

Miranda shook her head, raising her hand to run her fingers through Harry's hair. Hermione hissed in frustration, "They're dark creatures that suck everything good out of their surroundings. You Know Who has been using them as henchmen recently. Harry is usually quite good at conjuring a Patronus to drive them away."

"What happened?" Miranda asked Harry softly.

"I don't know." He whispered, pressing his forehead into her shoulder.

"And we still don't have any food." Ron grumbled.

"Shut up, Ron," Growled Hermione. "Harry, really, what happened? You managed perfectly yesterday!"

Miranda heard Ron kick at his chair, "What? I'm starving!"

"You go and fight Dementors then." Harry snapped, and Miranda flinched at the anger in his voice. She rubbed circles onto the back of his hand.

"I would, but my arm's in a sling, in case you hadn't noticed!"

Harry sat up, "That's convenient."

"And what's that supposed to-?"

"Stop it!" Miranda yelled, tightening her grip on Harry's hand, "Ron, you're not helping."

"Harry." Hermione said, and Miranda waited to hear what had the girl so rattled, her own blood rushing through her ears in the seconds that passed before Hermione explained herself, "The Horcrux, Harry, take it off! Give it to Miranda!"

"Wha?" He said.

"Come on, Harry, do as she says." Miranda urged, and felt him hesitantly press her locket into her free hand.

"Better?" asked Hermione.

Miranda felt him nod, "Yeah, loads better!"

Miranda quickly realized what was happening, "The Horcrux, Hermione, you don't think...?"

"Possibly. Harry, you don't think you've been possessed, do you?" She asked.

"No!" He snapped, suddenly squeezing Miranda's hand almost painfully tight. "I remember everything that's happened."

"Great, now that we've got that sorted, can we please get some food?" Ron groused.

Miranda fought to reign in her temper, to not tear at Ron's throat for being so insensitive. She wouldn't have normally felt such an urge to lash out, but Harry was hurting, scared, and all the daft red head could think of was his bloody stomach. The locket, which was now resting against her chest under her shirt, was thrumming. "We'll go." Hermione said, putting a hand on Miranda's shoulder.

"Give me a second." Miranda whispered, "Ronald, we need more wood. 'Mione, I'll meet you outside. Please, I'll be along in just a moment." The other two left, and Miranda knelt at Harry's feet placing her hands on his knees, "Are you feeling better?"

She could nearly feel him smile, and he brushed her hair from her face, a gesture he was becoming increasingly fond of. "Yes, I'm not sure what's in that locket, but it's not good." His hand flitted down to the chain now at her throat, his touch nearly burning her skin where he touched her, "I'd rather you not wear it."

Miranda shook her head, it seemed she was the only one it didn't bother, but she couldn't exactly tell any of them that, "No, Harry, we'll take turns. I'll be fine."

"Be careful." He said. "I guess I'll have to let you go. I'm in no real state to try again."

Miranda cupped his face between her hands kissing the bridge of his nose, "Have some faith in me. Get some rest. Hermione and I will be back soon."

Miranda and Hermione's trip into town was oddly peaceful, neither sensed any Dementors. Hermione had dragged Miranda to the town bookstore first, where the blind girl had sat in the corner, flipping pages of books she couldn't read so that Hermione could pick the ones she thought they needed. Miranda had felt a little silly, but Hermione had assured her that the books were necessary. Miranda wouldn't have put it past the book worm to have had her purchase books that were totally irrelevant though, she did have that certain thirst for knowledge.

After the bookstore, they had gone to the market, Hermione guiding Miranda with a hand on her shoulder, a method that proved very effective at keeping Miranda from being killed by kids on bicycles. Food had been procured quickly, nonperishable goods loading down Miranda's arms while Hermione carried the more ephemeral items under the cloak.

Even though it made her dark world obnoxiously shimmery, Miranda was grateful that Hermione was under the Invisibility Cloak, and, as such, couldn't really talk to her. Something on her face before they had left had told Miranda that the other witch was on the verge of asking her a question she was positive she wouldn't want to answer.

Back in the tent, Harry was sitting at the table and staring at the tent wall. He could barely string two thoughts together. He kept replaying the sight of Miranda's sightless smile, the one she only gave to him. Why was it that the look had made his heart leap into his chest? And she had kissed him! Even if it was just on his nose, that one kiss still made him ache more than any of Ginny's had.

He felt enormously guilty when he thought of Ginny, his best mates sister, and, until quite recently, his girlfriend. Miranda was nothing like Ginny. She was just as eye-catching as Ginny for sure, and the same perfect combination of witty and kind. Ginny, even if she never said it, was always worried about being good enough. In spite of his protests, Miranda never tried to prove anything to anyone other than herself.

Harry couldn't understand why Miranda had suddenly come to mean so much to him. They had only known each other for a couple of months, but he felt like he'd known her his whole life. She was so easy to talk to, and for some reason he got the feeling that she never judged him. He told her about his insecurities with searching for the Horcruxes, and she had just rattled off a quote before heading to help Hermione with dinner. Maybe it was the way their pasts were so similar? Or the fact that she herself was a horcrux?

They'd never said it out loud, but he'd seen the scar on her hand, heard her talk about the mental connection she had to her brother, and seen the way she'd looked at his scar. That moment in the hallway all those months ago had ensured that she was constantly in his thoughts. When ever he would get one of his visions, she just seemed to know, and would come sit behind him and make all of the pain go away, her skin on his, and she hadn't said a word to the others. They'd kept that up for weeks, and he was certain he wouldn't have made it a couple of days on his own without more slip ups than the ones they'd had when she'd been angry at him the night before the Ministry and the most recent one.

The thought of her being touched by a Dementor made him hate himself for being so weak, for not getting rid of the things when he had the chance to. And both Hermione and Miranda were out there alone. He should have insisted Ron go with them.

When Miranda came back though, her hair looked totally different. She'd gone blonde. "Don't look at me like that." She said, and Harry was amazed again at how good she was at knowing what people around her were doing, "Its just a charm." She uncorked a vial and poured a dark potion on her head, her dark hair returning as she combed the potion into her hair with her fingers, "Better, Harry?"

He nodded, and remembered she couldn't see him, "Much. It was a bit of a fright to see you with light hair... Not that it didn't look good though!" He said, covering himself.

Miranda smiled, "Trust me, I know I look terrible as a blonde. Don't worry about it. You should have been there the time I walked around as a red head for two weeks when I was sixteen. It was down right awful." She smiled at Ron, "Not that red hair is bad, just not for a person who looks like I do." Ron gapped at her slight.

"Why red?" Harry asked.

Miranda shook her head with a smile, "I did it to punish Walburga once. She was mean to me, and when she came to apologize, I made her angry, I didn't want to listen, and she told me to shut my mouth or she was going to beat me like a 'redheaded stepchild'. I reacted like I always did back then, and sought to push her to the edge of annoyance before I would forgive her. My hair was bright red until she finally screamed at me, two weeks later mind you, and changed it back herself. I got a good laugh out of it. She was so angry." She held up another vial from her bag, "I played around with the formula after that, and got a blonde that I don't remember being horrible. Did I stand out?"

"You looked great." Hermione grumbled, but added good naturedly, "You looked great wearing a button down mid calf length dress under a diner apron in the middle of the night, blonde hair just made you look a little pale."

The 'totally unfair' was left unsaid, but it felt good just to be a couple of girls talking about hair and clothes for a moment. Miranda set her bag to rights, "I'm not sure I've properly thanked you for finally forcing me to get rid of the shoulder pads. No one else ever bothered to suggest I make a fashion change." She adjusted the cozy sweater she'd worn into town, "Of all the changes in fifty years, I never imagined that clothes could be so comfortable. I might have changed sooner if I had."

"To have done it all on your own I think you did a pretty great job of blending in." Harry told her.

Miranda shook her head, "It was more than overwhelming. I just muddled along cleaning my same outdated dress hoping no one asked to see papers or wondered why I carried a wooden stick with me all the time."

Ron muttered something unkind, but Miranda was suddenly distracted from the conversation by a searing pain in her palm.

"Miranda?" Harry asked, apparently noticing her grimace.

She gripped the wrist of her burning hand with her other hand, holding it out, "My hand feels like it's on fire."

"It's bleeding." Hermione gasped, audibly thrusting her hand in her bag.

"No it's not." Harry whispered, cupping her hand in his, "It's glowing."

Miranda blinked a few times, "Like your scar."

"Are you having a vision?" Harry asked.

She shook her head, "No, it just really hurts, and…I feel really, really lonely all of the sudden." She bit her lip, trying to sort her own emotions from the pain and the loneliness that didn't seem to be hers, taking a step away from Harry. "It feels like my brother."

"I though he was dead." Ron muttered.

"I did too." She said softly, grimacing as the pain left her hand feeling like it was being pierced by needles.

She could feel that Harry was angry, just as she was sure the loneliness was from her brother. The real one. Tom. Not the creature who had stolen his name.

Harry's voice was tight when he spoke, "Are you going to go to him? Your brother, he's hurt. Are you going to leave us and go find him?"

"I want to." Miranda said slowly, choosing her words carefully.

"Then go, we won't stop you." Harry said, anger filling his voice.

Miranda put a hand out and found his, resting clenched on his knee as he sat in the chair next to hers, "No, Harry, please, listen to me. I want to go to him, more than anything I'd like to go find him. You have to understand though, my duty is no longer to my brother." She curled her hand into his, forcing him to relax his grip, "It would be selfish of me to go after my brother when you're trying to save life as we know it. Besides, my brother has survived for fifty four years without me."

Somewhere, Tom was alive.

"Really?" Harry said, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Yes. Knowing he's alive, that's enough for me." Miranda told them all, shaking her hand out as the pain faded more and more with each breath she took. "I'm exhausted now though. Wake me whenever you lot eat?"

"Of course." Hermione told her.

Miranda's hand was sore and her mind weary, and sleep came easily. She woke up a few hours later to Harry's hand on the side of her face. "Hey, you alright?"

Miranda nodded, sitting up so they were sitting next to one another, his hand falling to rest on her knee. "I'm fine."

Harry put an arm around her, "I'm glad."

She nodded, leaning into him, resting her head on his shoulder, and placing her arms around his waist. "You know something, Harry? I like this."

"What?" He asked, confused.

"Us, just sitting here. This means something. Doesn't it?" She linked her fingers with his.

Harry nodded, his cheek rubbing the top of her head, their proximity making him think about Ginny again, feeling guilty again. "Did you play quidditch?"

Miranda shook her head, "No. Brennan played though, talked all about it. He loved it, like you do." She smiled, "One day, Harry, when this is all over, will you show me how to play?"

Harry nodded, easing his arm farther down her back, "I'd like that."

Miranda hated to say something like what she was about to say without being able to see his face, but it had to be said, she had to tell him how she was feeling. Her free hand wandered up to the side of his face, and she could feel his breath against her face they were so close.

"Harry, I'm...drawn to you. I can't explain it, but I'm feeling things for you that I've never felt for anyone ever before, not even Alphard. Being here, you make it easy on me. It's surreal, and for the world we live in, I think that's something worth articulating."

"You're drawn to me?" He said dazedly, and it made Miranda giggle softly as she imagined the glazed over look he must have been sporting and nodded her reply. She felt him shake his head, "And here I was, going half mad over you, and you...feel the same way I do. There's something wrong with that."

When he kissed her, it was magic. Not in the literal sense, nothing exploded or lit up, but it just felt right. It was easy, comforting, and made warmth fill Miranda, driving out the cold chill of witnessing such a death. There wasn't any rush to their kiss, it wasn't about gratification, it was about being there for each other.

But when Harry pulled away, the warmth fled back into the corners of Miranda's mind for a moment, allowing her a clarity she hadn't had in a long time. She was done holding back, letting them all muddle along into things. This had to end. She told him as much, "This will end, Harry. It has to."

He kissed her again, this time just a peck, for reassurance, "It will."

He stood up, but Miranda clung to his shirt sleeve, "Stay with me tonight?"

"Miranda, I don't think that's a good…"

"Just stay, on the bed, asleep, with me. I don't want to be alone." Her confession was a small one, but maybe someday he would understand.

"I don't want to either." Harry said, adding, "We can be alone together." He stood then, taking her hand and pulling her into the common area with the others.

After they ate in a quiet fashion neither Ron or Hermione said a thing when Harry followed Miranda back to her cot and laid down beside her. He wrapped his arms around her, and they both fell into dreams of a life without Wizarding Wars. The next morning dawned too early for both of them, but waking up side by side was worth it.

They're getting closer!

Hope you enjoyed!

-Jenn