Status: Active
Give in to Love, or Live in Fear
#27
The next morning of holiday break was cold and wet, though no one expected differently.
Dear Mirabelle
Is there something wrong?
She sighed, scribbling down an answer, despite her better judgement.
I don't want to write to you anymore. Please stop sending me letters.
Mirabelle bit her lip, reluctantly giving the letter to the owl, Agate. She thought it might be a bit too harsh, though she did want him to stop.
After that,she headed down to the empty 6th year boys dormitory, where Marcus slept alone.
''Marcus!'' She sang softly, pulling the dark green curtains of his four-poster bed.
He stirred, his thick dark brows furrowed,although sleep still had a hold of him.
''Come now! I'm most definitely not going down to breakfast on my own again.'' She said quietly, shaking him gently.
Marcus sat up, rubbing his eyes miserably. ''Im starved.'' He grunted, shakily standing up.
Mirabelle giggled at the disarray of his tousled raven locks, throwing him the closest item of his clothing, which was sprawled out over the dormitory floor.
He caught it, it was a green and silver jumper, he threw it over his head, not bothering to change his black jeans.
She lead the way out of the boys dorm already adorned in black.
''What time is it?'' Marcus asked from behind heras they descended the stairs.
Mirabelle looked down at her femine gold and onyx encrusted watch. ''10:48''
He nodded, they didn't speak until they reached the Great hall, though it was a comfortable
silence.
''Mm... food.'' Marcus spoke fondly, filling his plate with all things in sight.
Mirabelle laughed, shaking her head. ''I'm rather quite famished myself.''
''So, do you wanna have a one on one practice later?'' He asked, mid bit of a piece of toast.
''Of course! I haven't played Quidditch since... the day before yesterday.'' She laughed.
''That is most definitely not a laughing matter.'' Marcus teased, holding a hand over his heart in a mock offended manner, his expression scandalized.
She attempted to suppress a giggle, though it slipped past her swollen pink lips.
Mirabelle dipped her spoon into the steaming cabbage soup, smiling still yet.
Marcus laughed, food crammed in his mouth.
They parted after breakfast, Marcus went to get the balls from Madam Hooch's office and Mirabelle headed down to the Quidditch pitch.
She leaned against the locker room building, waiting for Marcus.
Spotting Oliver Wood, she rolled her eyes. One would find him here. She attempted to appear calm, but really it terrified her that she actually got along with him and kind of, though she would never admit it, liked him... a bit.
''Oh, go away, won't you?'' She pouted when he was in earshot as he walked up to her.
Oliver looked down at the ground, this girl would be the death of him.
Neither of them said anything, in his case, he was far too nervous to even think of just what to say, in hers, she was to stubborn to speak first.
He noticed the ring on her middle finger, an emerald snake, which wrapped itself around her long and slim finger, it would seem she always wore it. He wondered what the story behind it was.
''I- I... '' He had to say what was on his mind, no matter how difficult. ''I think that you know.''
''Know, what?'' She snapped, hoping to disappear.
''That I've been writing to you...'' His tone faltered when she spoke with such harshness.
Mirabelle glanced up at him. ''Not anymore.'' She then looked toward the doors, hoping to see Marcus trudging along, that big wooden trunk under his arm, but no such luck.
He watched the ground solemnly, at long last finding his voice. ''Why not? Just because of who I am?'' He asked, his voice soft and sad.
''Look, I don't have to talk to you and I don't have to listen. Please, leave me alone.'' Mirabelle felt tears pricking ruthlessly at her bright eyes and went rigid, blinking them away rapidly.
''Why did it have to be him?' She wondered.
Despite her efforts, Oliver had seen and he peeked over at her, his brows knit together and a frown tugging on his lips, he hated that he had made her sad.
''I-I'm sorry. Please forgive me?'' He nearly begged, his big dark eyes like an endless depth of chocolate.
Her eyes flickered toward his and she quickly looked down to the ground. Why had her heart reacted so strangely when their eyes met?
''Why?'' She asked, not as firm as she had hoped.
Oliver spoke sorrowfully and sweetly. ''Because I-I made you... cry.''
Mirabelle unintentionally brushed her fingertips over her cheeks, horrified by the accurcy as she felt a wet substance. ''I'm not crying.'' She denied it, wishing Marcus where here.
She took a deep breath. ''Why are you here?'' Mirabelle turned to face him.
Oliver shook his head, looking down at the ground beneath them. ''I- Nothing.''
She felt guilty about being harsh with him and unknowingly frowned. ''Look, Oliver...? Let's just pretend this whole thing never happened and swear to never speak of it again, agreed?''
She saw a look of hurt possess his handsome fair face and felt a strange tug at her chest.
''Stop that! Honestly, you're making it hard for me to be mean.''
He glanced over at her shyly, perplexed by her statement. ''Stop what?'' He asked.
''That!'' She gestured wildly, attempting to find the right words to explain. ''That sad-doe-eyed-puppy eyes.''
''Sorry.'' He played with his fingers nervously.
Mirabelle laughed as she saw Marcus exiting the castle, struggling with the wooden box, the blunders attempting to escape.
Oliver smiled at the sound of her laughter, it rang beautifully through the air and made his heart stutter.
He followed her eyes, and sighed, he hadn't gotten to say all that he wanted. ''I-I'll see you... around.'' He reluctantly left.
Mirabelle glanced back over at his retreating figure, sighing, she wished it weren't him. She knew that she should have stopped writing to him when she found out about him being in Gryffindor.
She just assumed she would never feel anything for that mystery writer. Mirabelle wondered how she could possibly like him as a human being.
''Alright!'' Marcus dropped the wooden trunk, sighing as he stretched.
Mirabelle laughed softly, opening the trunk and taking out the Quaffle.
''Could you be the Keeper, I need practice.'' Marcus asked, straddling his bed.
''Sure.'' Mirabelle threw him the Quaffle and got onto her own broom, the Nimbus 2001, the fastest broom out there yet.
The two zoomed into the air, Mirabelle taking the defense of the hoops as Marcus did a warm up lap.
She did really good, Marcus only got 3 scores out of 15. They headed back to the Castle for lunch, their stomachs enthusiastically agreeing with there choice.
Dear Mirabelle
Is there something wrong?
She sighed, scribbling down an answer, despite her better judgement.
I don't want to write to you anymore. Please stop sending me letters.
Mirabelle bit her lip, reluctantly giving the letter to the owl, Agate. She thought it might be a bit too harsh, though she did want him to stop.
After that,she headed down to the empty 6th year boys dormitory, where Marcus slept alone.
''Marcus!'' She sang softly, pulling the dark green curtains of his four-poster bed.
He stirred, his thick dark brows furrowed,although sleep still had a hold of him.
''Come now! I'm most definitely not going down to breakfast on my own again.'' She said quietly, shaking him gently.
Marcus sat up, rubbing his eyes miserably. ''Im starved.'' He grunted, shakily standing up.
Mirabelle giggled at the disarray of his tousled raven locks, throwing him the closest item of his clothing, which was sprawled out over the dormitory floor.
He caught it, it was a green and silver jumper, he threw it over his head, not bothering to change his black jeans.
She lead the way out of the boys dorm already adorned in black.
''What time is it?'' Marcus asked from behind heras they descended the stairs.
Mirabelle looked down at her femine gold and onyx encrusted watch. ''10:48''
He nodded, they didn't speak until they reached the Great hall, though it was a comfortable
silence.
''Mm... food.'' Marcus spoke fondly, filling his plate with all things in sight.
Mirabelle laughed, shaking her head. ''I'm rather quite famished myself.''
''So, do you wanna have a one on one practice later?'' He asked, mid bit of a piece of toast.
''Of course! I haven't played Quidditch since... the day before yesterday.'' She laughed.
''That is most definitely not a laughing matter.'' Marcus teased, holding a hand over his heart in a mock offended manner, his expression scandalized.
She attempted to suppress a giggle, though it slipped past her swollen pink lips.
Mirabelle dipped her spoon into the steaming cabbage soup, smiling still yet.
Marcus laughed, food crammed in his mouth.
They parted after breakfast, Marcus went to get the balls from Madam Hooch's office and Mirabelle headed down to the Quidditch pitch.
She leaned against the locker room building, waiting for Marcus.
Spotting Oliver Wood, she rolled her eyes. One would find him here. She attempted to appear calm, but really it terrified her that she actually got along with him and kind of, though she would never admit it, liked him... a bit.
''Oh, go away, won't you?'' She pouted when he was in earshot as he walked up to her.
Oliver looked down at the ground, this girl would be the death of him.
Neither of them said anything, in his case, he was far too nervous to even think of just what to say, in hers, she was to stubborn to speak first.
He noticed the ring on her middle finger, an emerald snake, which wrapped itself around her long and slim finger, it would seem she always wore it. He wondered what the story behind it was.
''I- I... '' He had to say what was on his mind, no matter how difficult. ''I think that you know.''
''Know, what?'' She snapped, hoping to disappear.
''That I've been writing to you...'' His tone faltered when she spoke with such harshness.
Mirabelle glanced up at him. ''Not anymore.'' She then looked toward the doors, hoping to see Marcus trudging along, that big wooden trunk under his arm, but no such luck.
He watched the ground solemnly, at long last finding his voice. ''Why not? Just because of who I am?'' He asked, his voice soft and sad.
''Look, I don't have to talk to you and I don't have to listen. Please, leave me alone.'' Mirabelle felt tears pricking ruthlessly at her bright eyes and went rigid, blinking them away rapidly.
''Why did it have to be him?' She wondered.
Despite her efforts, Oliver had seen and he peeked over at her, his brows knit together and a frown tugging on his lips, he hated that he had made her sad.
''I-I'm sorry. Please forgive me?'' He nearly begged, his big dark eyes like an endless depth of chocolate.
Her eyes flickered toward his and she quickly looked down to the ground. Why had her heart reacted so strangely when their eyes met?
''Why?'' She asked, not as firm as she had hoped.
Oliver spoke sorrowfully and sweetly. ''Because I-I made you... cry.''
Mirabelle unintentionally brushed her fingertips over her cheeks, horrified by the accurcy as she felt a wet substance. ''I'm not crying.'' She denied it, wishing Marcus where here.
She took a deep breath. ''Why are you here?'' Mirabelle turned to face him.
Oliver shook his head, looking down at the ground beneath them. ''I- Nothing.''
She felt guilty about being harsh with him and unknowingly frowned. ''Look, Oliver...? Let's just pretend this whole thing never happened and swear to never speak of it again, agreed?''
She saw a look of hurt possess his handsome fair face and felt a strange tug at her chest.
''Stop that! Honestly, you're making it hard for me to be mean.''
He glanced over at her shyly, perplexed by her statement. ''Stop what?'' He asked.
''That!'' She gestured wildly, attempting to find the right words to explain. ''That sad-doe-eyed-puppy eyes.''
''Sorry.'' He played with his fingers nervously.
Mirabelle laughed as she saw Marcus exiting the castle, struggling with the wooden box, the blunders attempting to escape.
Oliver smiled at the sound of her laughter, it rang beautifully through the air and made his heart stutter.
He followed her eyes, and sighed, he hadn't gotten to say all that he wanted. ''I-I'll see you... around.'' He reluctantly left.
Mirabelle glanced back over at his retreating figure, sighing, she wished it weren't him. She knew that she should have stopped writing to him when she found out about him being in Gryffindor.
She just assumed she would never feel anything for that mystery writer. Mirabelle wondered how she could possibly like him as a human being.
''Alright!'' Marcus dropped the wooden trunk, sighing as he stretched.
Mirabelle laughed softly, opening the trunk and taking out the Quaffle.
''Could you be the Keeper, I need practice.'' Marcus asked, straddling his bed.
''Sure.'' Mirabelle threw him the Quaffle and got onto her own broom, the Nimbus 2001, the fastest broom out there yet.
The two zoomed into the air, Mirabelle taking the defense of the hoops as Marcus did a warm up lap.
She did really good, Marcus only got 3 scores out of 15. They headed back to the Castle for lunch, their stomachs enthusiastically agreeing with there choice.