Give in to Love, or Live in Fear

''Agliff!'' Mirabelle stirred in her sleep, her dark brows knit together, she seemed to be having a nightmare in which she couldn't wake.

Marcus shot out of bed, yanking the warm blankets off himself and rushing from the boys dormitory and straight to the girls.

It frustrated him so deeply, that he couldn't go in, he heard Mirabelle say their taboo word, in case she were ever in trouble and he wasn't around at the time.

''Bombarda!'' The girl's door flew off the hinges.

''What the hell, Marcus?!'' Adele jumped out of the room, staring angrily down at him from the stairwell.

''Is Mirabelle alright?'' He asked, anxious.

Adele looked back into the room, where her and Mirabelle's roommates were glaring and out of their beds.

''Yes, she's fine. Why?'' She nearly laughed at how insane he was, but she was angry he woke her up.

Mirabelle walked out, joining Adele, she looked tired and tears were staining her colorless cheeks.

''Marcus! I'm so sorry I said the word, I was having a nightmare, one of those which you think its real until wake up.'' She sighed, rubbing her eyes.

He sighed in relief upon seeing her. ''It's okay.'' He smiled a light and tired smile.

''Merlin! If I weren't so tired I would kick both of your asses.'' Adele sighed, agitated and went back into the girls dorm to sleep.

Mirabelle smiled softly, gracefully sweeping down the steps and into the common room, where Marcus stood.

''My head hurts a lot.'' She winced, rubbing her temple as her eyes closed lightly.

''Do you need to go to Madam Pomfrey?'' He asked, frowning slightly.

She nodded. ''I think I do.''

''Alright, lemme just get my shoes.'' Marcus began to wak toward the boys dorms, but she stopped him.

''Oh, that's okay, Marcus, you can go back to bed. I'll be back in no time.'' She assured, smiling softly.

He hesitated, but obliged.

*

Mirabelle rubbed her eyes, it was stinging and aching behind them as she ascended from the dungeons, sighing as her feet carried her to the first floor.

She didn't care about being caught, she cared of nothing but getting to Madam Pomfrey, before she fainted.

That bloody potion would be the death of her, she had forgotten to take it and now she would pay for it.

She turned the corner, hardly noticing anything around her as her head throbbed ruthlessly and she become insanely tired.

She pushed through non-the-less and she wasn't far from the hospital wing.

Someone was speaking although she couldn't make out just what they said, her vision was fogging and then... darkness.

''Mirabelle?''

Mirabelle, honey, you have to wake up.''

Suddenly her face became extremely cold and very wet, she shot out of the bed, glaring daggers at Madam Pomfrey.

''Well, I had to do something.'' The Matron waved off her hostility, handing her a small green bottle of liquid.

''Quidditch!'' Sneered the nurse, rolling her eyes. ''I wouldn't have so many injured if that ruddy sport was banned.'' She was mostly speaking to herself.

''Well, then you wouldn't have much to do all day, would you?'' Mirabelle reluctantly drank her potion, clenching her jaw.

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips, taking the empty bottle from a still shaking Mirabelle.

''How did I get here?'' She asked, wiping the water from her face.

''Someone carried you in.'' Poppy Pomfrey answered, dabbing Mirabelle's forehead gently with a damp cloth.

''Oh? Who?'' Mirabelle frowned as the school nurse did so.

''Can't say. They requested to remain Anonymys. It's a good thing they were around though, you might have become comatose.''

Mirabelle frowned, she gave no clues as to who it was.

''Fine, keep your secrets.'' Mirabelle stood up from the uncomfortable hospital bed, stretching.

''Here.'' The matron handed her a slip of parchment, so that if she were to be found, the
Professor or Prefect that caught her would know she had just got back from the hospital wing.

Mirabelle took it, sighing as the taste of that dreadful potion still lingered in her mouth.

*

Dear Mirabelle

How are you feeling? Better I hope. Madam Pomfrey told me you forgot to take your potion last night.

However did you know? I'm feeling usual, I suppose. Thanks. Did you take me to the hospital wing last night?

She thought there was no way it wasn't him, no one else had known.

Guilty as charged.

He grew a silly smiley face, which made her laugh.

How very kind of you! My gratitude.

*

Now that she knew it had been her mystery Gryffindor boy , she felt herself wondering who he was, at long last she wished to know.

*

''Detention, again?'' Marcus asked Adrian and Mirabelle, who were sitting in front of him in the Great Hall at the Slytherin table.

They nodded in sync, Mirabelle taking a sip of her pumpkin juice while Adrian filled his already over stuffed mouth with food.

''Hogsmeade tomorrow!'' Mirabelle exclaimed quietly, smiling despite her scheduled detention after their trip and classes.

Marcus shook his head, the two was in a constant state of trouble.

*

''Here.'' The fiery haired twins sat down next to their Quidditch Captian, holding out a folded piece of paper after having caught him staring at a certain girl at the Slytherin table.

He took it, opening it up and reluctantly looking away from her.

''Then maybe you'll stop fancying her.'' Fred sneered, casting a glare at the Slytherin table.

''Perhaps if you know all about her, she wont be so fascinating to you.''

Upon the parchment was the untidy handwriting of the twins, it read;

A stranger's guide to Mirabelle Morde:

-She is the distant cousin of He-who-must-not-be-named. (Maternal)

-Her Grandmother is a Veela. (Scaary! Don't get her angry!)

-She is a parselmouth.

-She kicks your ass in Quidditch (and you let her)

-She is a descendent of Salazar Slytherin

-Her dad is a possible Death Eater (Dad wont say)

-We seen her in Knockturn Alley this summer.

She's bad news, forget about her!

Oliver refolded the paper, looking over at the two. ''That's not gonna happen.''

The two sighed heavily, rolling their eyes. ''After what we just showed you?!''

''About that, how do you two even know all that about her?'' He asked, scuinting suspiciously at them.

''We have our ways.'' They mysteriously smirked, forgetting their eariler argument and shovelled food into their mouths.

Oliver dreamily glanced back over at her, taking it her vibrant smile as she shook her head at Adrian, he never wished to be someone else more than he wished to be Pucey in that moment.

*

''They always put us in separate rooms for detention.'' Frowned Mirabelle, as she spoke to Adrian across the Slytherin table.

Adrian nodded vigoriously, swallowing the food in his mouth to say; ''I know! I always get put with some Gryffindork! Then I end up hexing them and get even more detention.''

Marcus smirked, rolling his eyes.

''Just mind it isn't McGonagall who catches you, she doesn't seem to fancy you all too well.''
Mirabelle said, smiling and shaking her head as Adrian mocked a pained expression and a solemn hand over his heart.

''You dramatic silly boy!'' She laughed, shoving a piece of toast into his mouth.

''Argh!'' He chewed quickly, swatting at Mirabelle as she did the same, in self defense of course.

''Cat fight!'' Marcus smirked, causing the previously fighting two to burst into open laughter at the joke only the three would understand, seeing as Mirabelle's animgus took the form of a black cat it was only fitting. Everyone else seemed to be lost.

After an exciting and sometimes dull day of lessons and newly pending homework had gone, Mirabelle grudgingly separated from Adrian, who had detention with Flitwick, and made her way to Professor Mcgonagall's office.

This place had become quite familliar for her, and that is fitting, for she would have to visit it every Saturday night until this dreadful weeks had passed.

''Professor?'' Mirabelle inched into the very dimly lit office, seeing a silloutte near the desk, she assumed that it was McGonagall.

''Why is it so dark in here?'' She asked. ''Lumos She waved her wand softly.

''Gah!'' Mirabelle nearly lost her balance, she was expecting her Transfigurations teacher, Professor McGongall, not a boy in her year.

''You could have told me she wasn't here! I would have a right mind to hex you where you stand, Wood!'' She threatened, disgruntled.

''Ah! I see you've met your detention partner, Ms. Morde.'' Mcgongall briskly walking into the room, hearing her shouting.

With a flick of her wand McGongall lit all the candles, setting her things on her desk.

''But-...'' Mirabelle glared murderously at the stone floor which was blanketed by a large soft rug.

She didn't want to land herself with more detention time, she knew for sure that what she wanted to say could do just that.

''Tonight I thought you two could dust the trophies in the trophy room.'' The Professor and Head of Gryffindor explained.

''But that's what house-elves are for.'' Mirabelle sneered, angry not only because of what she had to go but who she had to do it with and for an entire hour. She had to spend an hour of
her time with Oliver Wood.

''Perhaps we shall give them a break?'' McGonagall spoke in a calm sort of way, which only angered Mirabelle more.

She huffed, disgruntled and marched out of the room in the direction of the trophy room.

The Professor turned to Oliver, who was still watching the empty doorway. ''You mustn't tell her, she could use it against you in a match.''

Wood eyes snapped to McGongall, his heart drumming evilly in his chest. ''W-What do you m-mean, Professor?''

''Come now, boy! Don't be silly.'' She waved him off, digging through the piles of parchments on her desk purposely.

''Better be off!'' McGonagall didn't look up to see the nervous and slightly flushed expression of Oliver Wood's face, but merely continued to rummage through her desk.

He did as she had said, his heart pounding ceaslessly against his chest as his feet carried him to the Trophy room, where Mirabelle was swearing and cursing under her breath.

She did not acknowledge his presence, but continued to glare at the gold and silver trophy's as if it were their fault she was there.

She said nothing to him for 10 solid moments.

McGonagall briefly popped in, saying they could not use magic, she must have forgotten.

''What?!'' Mirabelle asked of the Professor, who was halfway down the corridor, she had walked back though, having heard her outraged question.

''Yes, Ms. Morde, and I shall know if you do.'' And then she was gone.

Mirabelle took a deep breath, as if to calm herself down that she wouldn't chase McGonagall up the corridor.

''Can you believe her?'' Mirabelle sighed, forgetting for a moment who she was speaking to.

Her semi polite stature almost immediately went rigid and hateful, before he could even answer her.

After dusting the entire large cupboard of Quidditch trophies, Oliver had no choice but to walk around Mirabelle, she didn't seem to care much about dusting them correctly, instead she swiftly ran the rag across the visible surface and put it back.

Wood glanced over at Mirabelle who stood in front of the portrait of Brutus Scrimgeour, he wondered why she smiled softly up at it, as if it were a secret joke that only she knew.

Mirabelle looked up, meeting the eyes of Brutus Scrimgeour, she smiled lightly, thinking of the irony of the famous author of 'The Beater's Bible' hung in front of a beater. Also remembering how she had discovered it to be a secret passageway into the fourth floor corridor and wondered if the password was still Beati Pacifici

''Blessed are the peacemakers.'' She quietly mumbled, looking back down at the Trophy she held.

''What did you say?'' Wood swallowed hard, his brows rose in curiousity and attentiveness, he asked even though he had heard.

Mirabelle glanced over at him, almost forgetting completely that he was there. She bit back a sarcastic retort and said; ''Talking to myself.'' Her voice cool and annoyed.

She put the trophy back into the glass display it previously resided, and shut the crystal door.

The trophy room was far too big for just two people to clean in an hours time, despite

Mirabelle being angry to have to dust the trophies, she felt a strange sort of happiness after glancing behind Oliver, past him was a thin sliding door.

She gently pulled it open, exposing the Armoury. It was beautiful, the newly risen moon's blue rays glimed off of the silver Knight's amour. A long row down the wall of the hall like an army ready to march, reluctantly she shut it back.

Oliver quickly glanced away as she turned around, busying himself with dusting off a Tom Riddle's trophy for Services at Hogwarts.

He wondered who this Tom Riddle was, but it would seem Mirabelle already did, she took it from him as she passed, staring strangely at it.

''W-Who is that?'' He found his voice, avoiding looking at her encase she looked up.
''A cousin of mine.'' She slowly handed it back, striding to the far side of the room once he had taken it back.

His brows furrowed, she was acting more odd that he usually witnessed, he shrugged it off, putting the trophy back.

Mirabelle shook all her thoughts of the Trophy and her distant cousin and wiped down a silver plate, it bore engraving of loppy vines and flower buds growing in random areas of the stem.

''20 minutes!'' McGonagall checked up on them, leaving almost as soon as she had come, she was not surprised to see them so far apart.

Mirabelle took out her two way mirror that Marcus had bought her for her birthday, she whispered his name into it and waited for him to appear.

''Hey!'' She looked down upon hearing his voice, smiling unintentionally.

''Hi.''

''In detention still yet?'' He asked quietly, he appeared to be in the common room.

''Unfortunately.'' She rolled her eyes, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Wood was at a distance and said; ''You'll never guess who McGonagall gave me detention with!'' She whispered harshly.

''Who?'' Marcus asked, slightly amused.

''Wood.'' She sneered, looking behind her shoulder instintively.

Marcus supressed a laugh, clearly amused by this knowledge.

''Mirabelle!'' She heard Adrian nearly shout, and smiled.

''Adrian! Your detention is over?'' She asked, outraged.

''Yep!'' He popped the P, smiling evilly. ''Only had a 30 minute detention.''

She teasingly glared, breaking into a smile not long after.

''That will be all.'' McGonagal dismissed the two, leaving for her office at once.
Mirabelle did not waste no time getting out of the trophy room, she descended the first floor, and then the 2nd and than at last she reached the first floor and headed down to the dungeons.

*

Christmas came quickly approaching and much to the students excitement.

The Slytherin's had a bit of a going away party for those who would be going home for the holidays, and once classes had ended, all silver and green vanished from sight.

Mirabelle took a sip of Butterbeer, siting in the seat nearest to the large fireplace and gazing unblinkingly into the fire that popped contently within it.

''Fancy meeting you here!'' Adrian teased, plopping not so gracefully into the seat next to her.

She glanced over, smiling slightly.

Adrian had brought with him the Slytherin Quidditch team, minus ickle second year, Malfoy and in his place, the ever so fair haired, Terrence Higgs.

''Boys, boys...'' She greeted, bringing the bottle she held to her lips.
Bletchley was to her right, blocking the warmth of the fire from reaching her.

He squealed in glee, hopping slightly as he said; ''Mistletoe!'' And puckering his lips in Mirabelle direction.

She laughed, throwing her head back lightly. ''There's no way that's happening.''

''In honor of tradition!'' He pouted, still clinging to a shred of hope.

She pointed her wand lifelessly toward the green leaves of the Mistletoe and said;

''Incendio!'' setting it ablaze.

Miles huffed, taking a swig of his Butterbeer as the guys laughed.

''Hey, did you ever find out who took you to the hospital wing when you ''forgot'' to take your potion?'' Marcus took a seat next to Adrian.

''I really did forget!'' She frowned, crossing her arms over her chest as she pouted. ''But no, I haven't. Pomfrey wont tell me.''

''Too bad, I might have thanked them.''

''The Marcus Flint! Sprouting off 'thank you's' to random passersby?!'' She held a hand over her gaping mouth, smiling as Adrian chuckled softly.

He stuck his tongue out briefly, before turning his attention to the bottle in his hand.

''You are extremely protective of Mirabelle, I've noticed.'' Miles piped up, sitting on the arm of the sofa.

''Merlin! You are!'' Adrian nearly fell off the sofa in agreement, eyes wide.

''I am not.'' Marcus shook them off.

''You punched you a third year Gryffindor because he was ''looking up her'' skirt while climbing the ladder to Divinations!''

''That's right!'' Mirabelle sideways hugged Marcus. ''I've got my big strong brother bear!'' She teased, squeezing him tightly as his cheeks grew darker and darker in embarrassing.

After a few long and redundant moments of attempting to catch up on end of term exams and homework, Mirabelle sighed in defeat, neatly gathering her favored subjects completed homework and carelessly neglecting her undone homework for her hated subjects.

She shoved the incomplete homework on her bedside table and scurried out of the common room, in hast to return a few books on the Dark Arts to the library before curfew.

Madam Pince's expression was ignored by Mirabelle as she signed the books back into the library, and at long last she was free.

She had almost forgotten that Madam Pomfrey had asked her to come round the Hospital wing for some tests so she could make a few adjustments to her potion.

Gingerly, she avoided all students, teachers and banshee's (less fondly known as Prefects) and made her way quickly to the hospital wing.

''Ah! Ms. Morde! I thought you had forgotten!'' Was Madam Pomfrey's response when she spotted Mirabelle purposely walking toward her.

She ran into her office and shouted over her shoulder that Mirabelle should sit down.

Slowly, she did so, peering warily at the door of her office.

Pomfrey came hustling back, carrying a questionable and large book and a few odd things in a bucket.

Mirabelle prefered to be ignorant to what exactly was in that potion and hoped it to stay that way.

''You should thank the boy who brought you in here, you would be in a month long coma if it weren't for him.''

At least she knew it was a boy.

''That could be partically hard, seeing as I don't know who it is.'' She said, hoping Madam Pomfrey would just tell her.

''Oh, dear!'' She held a hand over her mouth. ''Old age! Keeps you slipping secrets!'' She blamed the many years she lived.

Mirabelle cracked a smile, despite how much she wished to know who it was.

''Then let it free! Speak as you will.'' She urged.

''I promised!'' Madam Pomfrey was close to breaking, distracting herself by busying her hands.

''Come now, I know you can't wait to say.'' Mirabelle smiled faintly.

She wanted to know who he was, although she was a bit frightful.

''I can't very well tell you!'' The Matron was now red in the face, avoiding Mirabelle's eyes.

''Come, come! I wont tell! It will be our little secret.'' She winked, holding a finger to her plump crimson lips.

Madam Pomfrey seemed to burst, her cheeks close to the dept of red of Mirabelle's lips.
''Oliver Wood!'' She appeared shocked with herself, as if Mirabelle forced Veritaserum down her throat.

''Oh, dear! Never tell an old Matron a secret.'' She shook her head, gathering the supplies and rushing to her office, leaving Mirabelle in a shocked stillness on the hospital bed.

It couldn't be. Oliver Wood could not be the boy she had been writing to for the majority of the year, he just couldn't!

She shook it off, perhaps Madam Pomfrey was mistaken, the hospital wing is quite dark at night.

Quickly, she attempted to forget about it, leaving the hospital wing in a distracted haze.