Give in to Love, or Live in Fear

Upon entering the Great hall, Mirabelle avoided the Gryffindor table at all cost, nearly bumping into that Potter kid, his ginger friend, Ronald Weasley and the bushy haired muddblood, Hermione Granger.

''She is not like other girls. She's so beautiful.'' The Weasley kid spoke dreamily after they leapt out of Mirabelle's way.

''That's because she's veela.'' The buck toothed girl snapped, jealous-like.

''If she wasn't a Slytherin I'd -'' The ginger went on as if he hadn't heard the girl speak at all.

''You honestly think she would give you the time of day?'' The muggleborn whispered harshly, angry envy coating every last word.

Mirabelle did not hear the rest of their conversation, she had walked out of earshot and toward the Slytherin table with Marcus.

''Have you written to Adrian?'' Mirabelle asked as she took the seat in front of Marcus, who sat with his back to the Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables.

Marcus stopped chewing abruptly. ''No... Have you?'' He asked.

''No. Well, it's only been a day, hasn't it? No need to fret.'' She answered, mostly reassuring herself, Adrian would feel left out and forgotten if they didn't write to him soon though.

''We'll write to him before dinner.'' She settled it, taking a sip of her pumpkin juice.

After a filling lunch the pair briefly left for the Slytherin common room, where they wrote a quick letter to Adrian.

Mirabelle wrote it, seeing as Marcus's handwriting was dreadfully unreadable.

Marcus decided to take a quick nap and Mirabelle headed for the Owlery.

Upon her journey to said circular tower, she caught sight of Wood and the Gryffindor team
Chaser, Angelina Johnson, she knew it would be immature if she hide behind a tree or went the other way but she simply didn't care, she could not face him.

She ducked behind a thickly trunked tree, biting her full crimson lip.

''You like Mirabelle Morde?!'' The dark skined girl asked, bewildered as her mouth hang slightly open.

Mirabelle's eyes widened at this, a rather odd feeling swelling up in her stomach.

She didn't want to hear his answer, though it was too late.

''Of course I do! Why is that so hard to believe? She is... breathtaking.'' Oliver settled on this, at a loss for words wonderful enough to describe her.

Mirabelle clenched her jaw, her dark brows coming together in anxious melancholy, she wished she hadn't have hidden. She wished this knowledge hadn't effected her so strangely and she wished she did not hear.

''Well, of course she's beautiful. Everyone in the Castle knows this.'' The Chaser continued, clearly not as stumped by this as Mirabelle.

''But she is cruel and she's a Slytherin! Isn't that, like, betraying house traditions or something?'' She rhetorically asked.

''I don't give a damn about 'house traditions'.'' Oliver admitted, only wishing she was capable of feeling remotely close to how he did.

Mirabelle regretfully waited for them to pass, sighing heavily as she headed for the Owlery.

The next morning the familiar sound of owls howling in the near distance greeted the remaining students, who settled into their perspective tables.

A few moments of conversation and few owls flew into the Great hall from the high windows, dropping parchments and newspapers as they swept through the air above.

Mirabelle, just as most of the other students, reached up and caught them just in time.

She opened the Daily Prophet, finding herself not really paying attention to what she read.

After merely scanned the contents, she stared down at the box in front of her. Ebony parchment blanketed it tightly and a small green bow tied neatly on the top of the box.

Mirabelle allowed Marcus to open it, and laughed at the look of lust on his face as he pulled out bags and boxes of candy.

Her Mother had sent her nearly everything in Honeydukes. Bertie Botts Every flavor beans, Cauldron cakes, Chocolate frogs, Droobles gum, Chocolate Skeletons, Toffees, Crystallised
Pinapples, Charm Choc, Liquorice wands, Fizzing Whizzbees, Chocolate wands, Chocoballs, Sugared Butterfly wings and Pumpkin fizz.

''Help yourself, Marcus.'' Mirabelle laughed as he began to drool. ''Besides, it looks like mom has sent you something too.'' She threw him a slightly smaller box, which had fallen to her lap from the owl.

''I love her.'' He whispered, staring into the box he savagely opened.

Mirabelle shook her head, taking a bit of her Pixiepuffs that the elves had sent up, before opening the letter her Parents sent with the sweets.

Darling, Mirabelle~

Your Father and I have missed you dearly, we wish we could see you this holiday break. I trust you're having fun with Marcus and do be good, your Father still hasn't forgotten to mention last years incident. Bless him. Though I must admit, testing a transfiguration spell on Professor Trelawney was justified by her utter madness, by what you have told me about her, but perhaps setting dear Miles hair on fire hasn't all too kind. Still, I love you all the same. Your Grandmother and Grandfather sends their greetings. I hope you enjoy your sweets.
Love your Mother and Father

Mirabelle smiled softly, tucking the letter into the large box her Mother sent.

She glanced up and caught the solemn eyes of Oliver Wood. Quickly, she looked away, busying herself by answering the question Marcus asked.

After a few moments of chatter and shoveling food into his mouth, Marcus left for the lavatory.
Mirabelle idly drew little pictures on the polished wood of the table in front of her, sighing softly.

''I need to say something.'' A honeyed and soft accented voice spoke into her ear.

She jumped slightly, ignoring the shiver that climbed up her spine.

Mirabelle glanced up, her eyes widened a small amount at who stood there. ''What are you doing here?''

Oliver Wood, wearing a maroon jumper and an anxious expression, stood a foot behind her.

''I have something that I-I want to say.''

Mirabelle frowned, biting her lip. ''I don't want to hear what you have to say! Especially if you're going to say it in front of my house members.''

Oliver looked down at his hands, sighing. ''I really need you to understand, it's all I think about.''

''I was under the assumption that all you thought of was Quidditch. '' She retorted but upon seeing those sad big brown eyes, she clenched her jaw and frowned.

''Fine!'' She groaned, rolling her eyes. ''Say what you need and say it quick.''

''Before I started writing to you, I was... infatuated with you. I still am. I can't seem to get you out of my head, though I've tried. It would be much easier on me.''

Mirabelle's eyes wide, she ignored the intense urge to beat her pumping heart to the point of it's stillness, she did not like the way it fluttered merely within her chest.

''Stop! Why are you saying this!'' She hushed him, glancing around. ''Just... stop talking. I-I don't want to hear it.''

Mirabelle left him in Great hall, her heart pounding wildly against her rib cage.
She heard footsteps behind her as she entered an empty corridor.

''Mirabelle...?'' That infamous Scottish accent asked weakly a few feet behind her.

She spun around on the spot. ''When did we get on a first name basis? And why are you stalking me?''

Oliver's heart stuttered at her gaze, taking a deep and shaky breath. ''I-I need to tell you all of this.''

''So after I wrote to you and you wrote back and I learned new things about you, things that made me like you more, I was... hopeless. Hopeless beyond repair.''

''Why are you telling me this? You know I don't... feel the way you do.'' She found it hard to say those word, not only because they weren't true, but because she found it strange to talk
about the way he claimed to feel.

''I know.'' He solemnly spoke, watching the floor intently. ''I just couldn't hold it in any longer.''

''I never wanted to hear that.'' She attempted to say with venom, though she found it weak.

Without another word, or glance at his sad chocolate eyes, she left as quickly as she could, hating herself more with every step.

*

''Maarcus!'' Mirabelle whined her accented miserable whine as herself and Marcus sat in the Three Broomsticks.

''I'm sorry! I have to go, Madam Pomfrey needs to check on my shoulder, it still gives me problems.''

''Madame Pomfrey.'' She sighed. ''Alright, leave me then.'' Mirabelle teased, sharply glancing away from him.

He cracked a smile, shaking his head. ''See you in the Common room.'' He stood.

''Farewell, Mon ami!'' She waved, sipping her butterbeer as he exited the pub.
Mirabelle finished her butterbeer and having nothing more to do, she too left.

She tugged her grey long and warm wool overcoat closer to her small frame after she shut the door of the Three Broomsticks behind her, shivering in the Winter's chilling breeze.

The four golden buttons did little to nothing to keep it tightly around her.

With a sideways glance, she walked down the village path, the snow melting under her green velvet boots as she walked, as gracefully as ever.

Her long ebony spirals falling down her back and beside her defined jawline, serving its purpose to keep her ears and long slim neck warm.

She made it to the Wooden Bridge, but was stopped in the Stone circle.

There came Oliver Wood, exiting the Covered bridge with his hands in the pockets of his dark brown travel coat and his eyes cast down.

She hoped he wouldn't catch sight of her, and casually continued walking.

Unfortunately, she hadn't hoped enough.

He called after her as she closed nearer to the entrance of the Covered Bridge, but she was ignoring him.

Oliver stepped in front of her, wondering why she hated him so much.

She slowly looked up at him, annoyed. ''Why wont you leave me be?'' She inquired, glancing longingly in the direction of the bridge, but what she saw had her anxious and panicking.

Three maybe four students were coming their way.

She took his wrist, pulling him to the side of the Bridge, into the trees so no prying eyes could see the pair.

Mirabelle dropped his hand at once, crossing her arms over her chest.

He let out the breath he was unaware he was holding in, avoiding her eyes nervously as he attempted to slow his racing heart.

''What do you want, Wood?''

Once he had mustered up the courage and ability to speak, he said softly, ''I want you to just try. Give me a chance.''

''A chance? To do what?'' Mirabelle asked, though she already knew.

Oliver sighed. ''To be with you. I can't be so bad, can I?''

If he kept looking at her the way he was, her will would soon be gone.

She could clearly see the sincerity in his deppfull eyes, the longing she couldn't explain.

''You really want to be with me?'' She asked, disbelieving.

Oliver's brows furrowed in complexity, he wonder why she said it that way, he pondered how she saw herself.

''Of course! Is that so strange?''

Mirabelle rose a brow, biting her lip. ''Quite.''

''Look, I'm going to be late, I can't talk to you anymore and quite frankly, I don't want to.'' She said, she was starting to realize how soft she was becoming toward him.

''Wait!'' He called, before she could leave.

Reluctantly, she turned to face him, her dark brow arched. ''What?'' She asked, slightly annoyed.

He had to do something, he didn't want to leave this conversation the way they always seemed to.

''Meet me tonight.'' He requested desperately. ''If you don't like me... then I will leave you alone.''

Mirabelle bit her lip, thinking it couldn't do much harm, it isn't like she would like him.

''Fine. 3rd floor corridor : 1am''

Oliver felt his heart leap merrily within his chest. ''It's out of bounds this year.'' He frowned, his heart sinking back down.

''And? If you really want to see me, you'll brave Filch.'' She left without a word, wondering if she really should go.

Her heart pounding loudly in her ear as she swept through the shadows in the covered bridge.