Who: Ralph Frobisher and Miranda Parry
What: :( Miranda's been attacked
When: Last Night
Where: St. Mungo's



"Yeah, I get it."

He must have sounded cold and unappreciative, but Ralph could really care less how Frank viewed him at this point. One could only express so much positive feedback after finding out your arch enemy had just attacked your pregnant girlfriend in the middle of the night. Yeah. It had taken Ralph a few moments to wrap his head around the words Frank was saying to him. Ralph barely registered Frank nodding grimly to him, and responded even less to Frank patted him on the shoulder before turning to walk away.

Was that supposed to comfort him, make him feel better about the entire situation? An Order to Order member understanding nod and pat? What the fuck was that? Wasn't it the Order's job to make sure that things like this didn't happen? To protect Miranda from---

A long sigh escaped him as his grip tightening on the door handle. Head low, shoulders down, Ralph had never felt so dejected, so downcast so--- there wasn't a word that could possibly describe all the things that he was feeling at that moment. Guilt, horror, shame... ignorance... senseless, desensitized--- and that was all just from Frank telling him what happened. Miranda was in a bed on the other side of this door and Ralph was finding it difficult to know what to say to her.

All of this was completely his fault--- one-hundred percent his fault, no ands, ifs or buts. He had no right blaming this on anyone but himself. The Order had told him to stay hiding, to push Miranda away and just start a new life. But... that had been difficult, too difficult and instead he found himself joining and look where that had gotten him. To one of the most miserable days of his life.

Ralph's head continued to hang low for a few moments, finding it honestly an inability to prepare himself to even look at her, let alone talk to her. But the longer he stayed out here, the worse it was. So--- taking a deep breath, his fingers pushed open the door, his legs mindlessly directing himself into the room.

Instantly his throat dried up, and Ralph found himself frozen in front of her. "Miranda---" he croaked.

Miranda wasn't sure if she was asleep or not. Even in her most stressed out times at Hogwarts, those nights where all your mind could focus on was how badly you were going to fail the impending exam, she had always been able to force herself to sleep. She'd dream about transfiguring her roommates into pincushions or something ridiculous like that, but she'd manage to get the rest she needed. Tonight, she didn't want to have the dreams she knew would come, but the exhaustion was becoming hard to fight. The sleeping potions were right there on the side table for her to take, but a large part of her wanted to stay up and think.

Everything---everything had happened so quickly. Miranda had been staying at Ralph's dorm for the past few days, but when the Order or...anyone, really, hadn't run into any trouble, things went back to normal, and the second it did, everything went straight back to hell. The death eater, who Miranda was more than a hundred percent sure was Walden MacNair hiding behind the mask, had just--cornered her outside, and at first--

She twisted over to her other side, frowning at the ache of her body and continuing to try and recall everything. Her mind was a mess, her memories were scattered, and it felt like she'd been sleepwalking and couldn't break apart what was real and what was a creation of her weak mind. All Miranda could clearly remember was that after a struggle, when she was sure she was going to die, she had to make a choice. The death eater had given her a choice, and she'd made her decision so fast that he'd laughed.

Her eyes shut tightly as the door opened, hoping to steer the healer away with feigned sleep. Oh, God, what if it was her family? When her mother and brothers found out, they were going to--she never wanted them to find out, she'd rather run away and live on some desolate island than have to go through all of their faces and the sympathy, the pity, that's what--

Miranda shot up as quickly as she could when she heard Ralph's voice, and immediately regretted it. Her head was spinning and automatically her eyes were stung with tears. He looked so sad, "I--" she started, but there was nothing to actually say, was there? "I---"

How had this--- even--- happened? He didn't--- it just didn't--- none of it made any sense. And the more that Ralph looked at Miranda (his gaze couldn't be torn from her for anything), the more he felt his heart sink deeper and deeper. Guilt, so much guilt was consuming him; Miranda's pain, and what she had to go through was completely his fault. Indirectly, his soul doing. Walden could have really fucking cared less about her, it was Ralph who he had failed to kill two years ago.

How--- how could you come back from that? From understanding what these events really meant. How-- when he looked at her, how could he not remember this for the rest of their lives? This understanding nearly brought Ralph to the ground, his body feeling so heavy now.

"I---" he started, his mouth lagging open slightly as he attempted to speak. Out of seemingly nowhere, Ralph's head began to shake back and forth at her. No, no, Miranda didn't need to say anything to him, explain anything because-- there was no need for that. She had done nothing wrong, done nothing to deserve this and--- "There isn't---" Ralph stuttered as his legs slipped beneath him.

Numb, Ralph felt his body float over to Miranda, and with slight hesitation he reached for her. No doubt she was still sore (Frank had been thorough enough to leave no detail out of what had happened), so he only brushed his skin against hers. Frowning uncontrollably, it took him a while to speak in a collected tone--- it was important that he speak this next part clearly to her.

"There isn't--- anything I can say that--- could show you how truly sorry I am," Ralph felt his throat clench, and his ability to keep himself controlled began to waver. His face began to feel hot, and his hands began to throb. "I just--- there's nothing, and--- I'm sorry, I'm so sorry----"

"Ohh--" Miranda's lips pressed into a tight line, trying to force her tears away. Ralph shouldn't be apologizing. It wasn't his fault, none of this was--what had he ever done to Walden MacNair to justify such pain and suffering? Ralph had not done--he was a good man, he was a good person, it was MacNair and You-Know-Who that used terror to try and force them into doing what they wanted. The death eaters they...they wanted them to hide away, and to obey and lie down and give up. As much as it hurt, Miranda couldn't do that.

Her breathing was quick and shaky as she kept the tears away. She hurt in so many different ways that Miranda's mind didn't know what to focus on, but she knew that being with Ralph was the only thing that had ever been able to fix every problem she'd ever faced. No matter what she went through, Miranda wanted Ralph, and right now was no different.

"Don't--" she started, shaking her head and reaching out to him. Looking over his face, seeing his pain in every last crease and curve, is what finally broke Miranda's self-inflicted tear dam. Her breath hitched and she gripped Ralph's neck, her fingers moving to his chin and cheeks to just--touch him and console him, to console herself. Ralph was here, Ralph was alive and he was here, with her. That's all that mattered, it was all that mattered, "It's not---it's okay, Ralph, we'll be--"

She stopped to try and catch her breath. A huge ache in her chest roared at her, saying that no, it was not okay that their baby was gone before she could live, but Miranda pushed the thoughts away. She had made her choice, the death eater had forced her to choose between Ralph and the baby inside of her, and---it was easy, it was so easy to pick Ralph. It was painful and devastating, but Miranda knew that her life would be meaningless without Ralph; she'd never been so sure of a decision, and she knew that she wouldn't regret it.

Did that make her a terrible person? That she was able to choose one life over another? Miranda didn't know, and the question made her grow frantic to hold Ralph.

His face contorted for a second, confused as to what she was trying to say to him. No, no, she was allowed to blame him, he fucked up huge this time and--- this wasn't one of those things you made light of just because you didn't want the other person to feel bad. Ralph didn't want Miranda to think--- think whatever she was thinking. Ralph stared at her blankly as her hands gripped onto his face, keeping his chin up.

One word she uttered changed his thought process completely, sending a new wave of anxiety over him. We. We. Miranda and the baby she was carrying. His baby! His little girl, his cupcake, and suddenly Ralph felt so humiliated and unworthy of parenthood because it had taken him this long to realize that an attack on Miranda was also an attack on his baby. Upon hearing that Miranda had been hospitalized had been enough to send him over the edge, merely focusing on her because it was Miranda and--- how could he have not--- Ralph's face began to burn so red, he felt his entire body heat up. Whether it was from pure anger or pure humiliation, there would be no way to tell.

Ralph reached up to his face and pulled Miranda's hands off to interlink her fingers with his. "The baby---?" His voice cracked again, despite whispering lowly. He hadn't---- with every second, this growing fear began to expand in his stomach threatening to take him over completely. His child, his child--- Miranda--- Ralph didn't know what he would do if--- he simply couldn't control himself at this point, feeling so much inside of him that an answer was absolutely necessary at the moment.

"Is she--- is the baby alright?" Something that could only be described as rage began to eat away at Ralph quickly, his entire body beginning to seize up so much it began to shake slightly.

Was this a joke? Had someone actually allowed Ralph to come into this room without knowing? Miranda felt her throat tightened as she stared at Ralph, knowing she wasn't able to hide her pain and sorrow from him. How could she tell him? How could she tell herself that once they left this hospital room nothing was going to be the same? They'd only had her for three months but---Miranda was starting to think now, she'd been avoiding true, painful thoughts and now her chest began to hurt, her head began to hurt, everything just hurt.

Panic began to engulfed her, it was a panic because she had to be the one to break the news. Miranda could see how angry Ralph was about everything, she knew he blamed himself for the attack and now she had to tell him that their baby was gone? Dead? That she had chosen for it to be this way? Miranda felt like she was going to faint with the way her eyes were unfocusing, but she couldn't leave Ralph without answers---or she could, she could just shake her head and be done with it. Done with---Miranda ducked her head, trying to breath. She couldn't break his heart more than she was already going to. It felt like the one constant in her life was keeping Ralph happy, and there was no way to do that right now. There was nothing she could say that would make this easier to swallow.

She shook her head, "No." Miranda was surprised at how steadily that came out. It was the first time she'd voiced the truth since waking up in St. Mungo's, "The death eater, he----he made me choose," Miranda pushed away some tears and tried to steady her breathing. This was going to be so hard. How could she say what she needed to say? Ralph was going to--

"He made me choose between---the baby or---me, and I---" Miranda felt an immense guilt rise up in her and now her breaths were sharp and rapid, "And I---I knew that she couldn't--survive without----" It had been her decision, she didn't need Ralph to take more blame, "--me."

She couldn't look at him, "I'm sorry," she blurted, breaking into uncontrollable sobs.

The anger inside him did not subdue at her words, but instead morphed into a new monster that Ralph had never felt before. It was to hard to think, too hard to utter--- what Miranda was saying to him. How could this--- this wasn't--- it simply wasn't possible. How-- how-- how---- it was like a dark, thick gas was blocking his ability to think. It was violent, and angry and for a few moments, Ralph couldn't breathe. This smoke was suffocating him, making it impossible to breathe.

Ralph looked at Miranda blankly, his inner emotions completely void of expression. "Don't--" he voiced emotionlessly, his gaze hardening as it focused on anything but her face. Deep inside, Ralph wanted to console Miranda, tell her everything was going to be fine as he cried with her over their lost child. But--- this rage, this monster, had taken over too much at this point for him to break into sobs just yet. There was something very cold about how he felt, and the only thought that kept running through his mind was that his child was dead all because of Walden MacNair. Walden fucking MacNair.

His child was dead, his child was dead, his baby girl was gone and--- Miranda, he had almost lost her too--- there were no words to fully describe what this all meant, and Ralph knew it would take him many years to fully feel and move on from the ramifications of last night. "Don't--- don't blame yourself," he stated thickly, moving jerkily to wrap his arms around her. Resting his chin on her shoulder, Ralph gripped Miranda tightly knowing fully well that he could have lost his child and his love in one easy swoop. This fact shook him to his very core, only feeding the great presence that was taking over his usually calm and laid back personality. This was war.