Give in to Love, or Live in Fear

Mirabelle wandered the castle in search of Marcus, absentminded while doing so.

She pondered on why she had agreed to met Oliver and wondered if she would, in fact be meeting him.

Biting her lip in anxiety, she at long last spotted Marcus. He sat in a glassless windowsill just alongside the courtyard, he sat in between the corridor and the green grass of the open space.

He was staring apprehensively at a potion bottle in his hand, it's purple liquid seemed to revolt him consumingly.

''Marcus Flint! Afraid of a bit of potion?'' Mirabelle smirked as she approached.

''Shut up.'' He chugged it in one gulp, groaning at the terrible taste.

Mirabelle laughed lightly, leaning against the stone wall.

''Marcus...'' She slowly began after a moment, biting her lip.

He glanced up at her, his eyebrows raised in attentiveness. ''Yeah?''

She hoped he would not laugh or get angry. ''Oliver Wood wants to met me after hours.''

She awaited his laughter, but it never came.

''Are you going to go?'' He asked, serious but not judgmental.

It took Mirabelle a few moments to recover from the surprise and she sighed. ''I don't know.''

''Do you want to?'' Marcus asked.

Again, she bit her lip. ''I- don't know. Maybe...?''

''Then you should go.'' He encouraged. He didn't particularly like Oliver Wood, but if she wanted to met him, he was far from discouraging her from that.

Mirabelle bit her lip, nodding faintly. ''Okay, I- I'm going to go.'' She breathed.

Marcus smiled, nodding.

''Now, come on! Let's get dinner. I want this vile taste out of my mouth.'' He shuddered, standing and throwing the potion bottle into the countyard without a glance.

Mirabelle smiled, shaking her head. ''Off we go then.'' She looped their arms together.

After a filling dinner, the dark haired pair found themselves walking toward the dungeon entrance to their common room.

Marcus offered to stay awake with her until she would leave, but she insisted he slept.

The clock informed Mirabelle that she had five minutes to descend three grand staircases and with stealth.

She sighed, biting her lip as she exited the Slytherin common room door.

Mirabelle transformed into her animagus. It usual doesn't get her out of trouble, but for some reason she felt safer as a cat, besides she was quite a bit more silent.

At last she made it to the third floor corridor, transforming herself back into a girl.

''Wood?'' She called quietly, rolling her eyes lightly when she saw him wide-eyed and terrified, appearing from the opposite end of the corridor.

''What did you want to talk about?'' She asked once he was close enough to hear her.

By then she had been leaning on the wall, her arms stubbornly crossed over her chest.

''Anything, everything. I just want to hear your voice.'' He glanced nervously at her when he realized he had said that aloud.

She avoided his eyes and his statement, casting her eyes to the stone floor beneath her feet.

''Look,...'' she was trying to remember his name and he frowned because of it. But she already knew his name, in fact she had been trying to get it out of her head.

''Oliver.'' He told her, his eyes cast down.

''Oliver.'' She said, beginning again. ''Let us just get this over with. I still don't know why I'm here.''

He tried ignoring the way his stomach flipped in glee as she said his name and bit his lip.

''Because I wanted to talk to you. I want you to give me a chance.''

She looked up at him. ''You want to be my boyfriend?'' She asked, one brow risen.

He nodded, the feeling in his legs and arms leaving him momentarily.

''Why?'' Mirabelle asked, suspicious. ''Someone dare you? It was those half-wit twins, wasn't it? I knew they would want to get back at me for hexing them.'' She laughed humorlessly, clenching her jaw.

''No. No one dared me. No one would need to.''

Mirabelle looked over at him, biting her lip in thought.

''What would go on if you were my boyfriend?'' She asked. ''[ib]If[/ib] you were, it wouldn't be public.''

''I wouldn't care. As long as I was with you.'' He nearly slapped himself. Here he was, simply spilling.

''You hardly know me and so far I've been nothing but rude to you. Why do you like me so?''

Oliver peeked up at her. ''Well, I do know you. You are beautiful inside and outside. You must see this! You are hardly as cruel as Flint. But you stick up for yourself and your friends always and that is just one of the many things I adore about you.''

She did not say anything for a moment, but wondered why this boy, this Gryffindor boy made her feel so funny inside.

''I can't.'' Mirabelle bit her lip, wanting to get away.

''Why not?'' He nearly begged, his brows coming together in sadness and confusion.

She sighed. ''I never should have come. I never should have sent that stupid letter. Look what I've got myself into. Mother and Father...'' She shook her head, closing her eyes.

''I felt this way before the letters.'' He informed. ''And I'm sorry you're ashamed of me.''

''You said you wouldn't care if it was secret.'' Mirabelle said.

He nodded. ''I know. I wouldn't. But it hurts to hear.''

''I'm sorry.'' She couldn't say why she had said that. Perhaps it was his big sad-doey-eyes or maybe it was the guilt brewing in her, or I suppose both.

Oliver glanced at her just as she looked down.

She thought for a moment. It wasn't like she and Oliver would marry. No. It would just be some fling nobody knew about. Nobody including her parents.

''Did I make you sad?'' Oliver asked lowly, biting his lip.

She glanced up at him, attempting to smile, but failing. ''No. I-... I suppose it couldn't hurt... if you were my-'' She frowned at the floor. ''-boyfriend.''

She hated that she had just said that. She already got herself into something she couldn't handle, but now...

Though it was too late. There Oliver Wood stood, smiling like the stammering, nervous wreck he was.

She was immediately discouraged from changing her mind.

Mirabelle looking up into his eyes, chewing on her lip.

She reminded herself that this was only just a momentary second of insanity. That it would go nowhere in the long run.