Give in to Love, or Live in Fear

Oliver could not restrain his joy, he closed the space between them, embracing her tightly and securely. All the while his heart pounding mercilessly at his chest.

He felt her stiffen at this gesture, and she didn't hug him back.

''Oliver, please let go.'' She quietly asked, biting her lip. He had shocked her, she wasn't really the hugging type and with her heart drumming within her chest, she feared he might feel it.

She didn't want him to know how much she liked him.

Mirabelle shrugged him off when he didn't pull away fast enough, watching the floor intently.

''If we're going to do this, there will be no hugging. And don't say anything personal to me.

Don't ask me how my day was.'' She didn't want him to get too attached, or maybe it was herself she worried about.

Oliver smiled lightly, she was a strange girl indeed. ''But I want to know how your day was! I want to know your craziest dreams and your wildest thoughts. I want to know everything that involves you.''

She desperately ignored those giddy butterflies in her stomach to shake her head lightly in protest. ''No, no. You don't. I can't do this. What was I thinking?''

''Come on.'' Oliver took her hands in his. ''You said you wanted to be with me. You made me happy. Please, don't hurt me.''

Mirabelle couldn't look into his eyes, she sighed an inaudible sigh of defeat.

''You're constantly trying to say goodbye to me. And you've only just said hello.''

The depps of his dark eyes were swirming with a mixture of sadness and pleading as she glanced up into them, immediately regretting doing so.

She took her hands back, feeling that gesture was a little too emotional intimate.

''Sure, Oliver. Guilt me into being with you.''

''I'm not trying to make you feel guilty. I don't ever want to make you feel anything bad.''

''Oliver, we should go. It should be dinner soon.'' She changed the subject, glancing around him to make sure no one was coming down the aisle.

He bit his lip, he loved when she spoke his name.

Mirabelle reached up on her tippy-toes, placing a sweet and soft kiss on his lips. She hadn't even given him time to react, he had just closed his eyes when she pulled away.

His heart was more than enthusiastic about this turn of events and it pulsed even more viciously against his rib cage.

She frowned at his closed eyes, he seemed to be much more emotionally involved than she had hoped.

She whispered a goodbye, but the words refused to slip past her lips, so, with that frown still tugging on her plump lips, she left the library.

When Oliver wrote to the Weasley twins and informed them of his wondrous change of luck, in a sloppy script, they replied with a, ''Her last name means murder in German for heaven's sake! What more do you need?''

Mirabelle at last received her own letter. From her dear friend, Adrian Pucey.

Her faithful owl had flew into the Great Hall, where herself and Marcus were eating, and dropped the letter on her lap.

She took it from the envelope, reading it out loud for Marcus.

Dear, Mirabelle

Christmas break is great here, I just wish it were Christmas already! You are the mistress of wonders! Thank you. There is no way I was waking up at 4am. About Oliver, of course your stomach would feel strange, it was probably fighting the urge of getting sick. Have a lovely Christmas holiday without me. Goodbye.
P.S Mom says hello

Mirabelle smiled, shaking her head. ''What are you sending him for Christmas?'' She asked
Marcus, who chewed his food as if he had starved for days.

''I don't know yet. I was thinking a broom compass.'' He shrugged.

Mirabelle nodded. ''Sounds good.''

''What are you getting him?'' Marcus found that Mirabelle always gave better presents.

''I was looking at Omnioculars, perhaps a pair. Of course, he'll need his daily dosage of
honeydukes.'' She laughed.

Marcus shook his head, smiling.

She had asked Marcus what happened with Adele, causing a light pink to rise on his cheeks.

''My, my! Marcus Flint! Blushing?'' She laughed.

''We just talked about Quidditch.'' He informed, still pink-faced and avoiding eye contact.

Laughing softly, she didn't continue the subject and Marcus had the chance to ask about her and Oliver.

''He says the most strange things.'' Mirabelle informed, a frown tugging at her lips without her knowledge.

''He wants to know all about me. I just don't understand why.''

Marcus laughed. ''Uh, let me think...'' He sarcastically began. ''As much as I don't like him, I have to admit, he likes you. A lot. Are you honestly telling me you haven't noticed?''

''Well, I didn't until he told me.''

''Wow.'' Marcus shook his head. ''Oblivious girl.'' He sighed playfully.

After dinner, Mirabelle walked along the first floor corridor with the intention of returning to the
Slytherin house, but something, or someone caught her eye.

Oliver Wood, his tousled locks in disarray from the wind outside. He waved her over from a dark, hidden corner.

Mirabelle glanced around, walking to him. ''What are you doing?'' She asked, her whisper echoing against the pillars.

She took his hand, but only to pull him into a nearby cupboard.

''I wanted to see you.''

She dropped his hand. She held her tongue so that she wouldn't ask why, she didn't want to know.

''That's... sweet of you...?'' She wasn't good with this stuff at all.

He smiled faintly.

''Oh, honey!'' An unfamiliar voice announced itself.

Mirabelle noticed a mirror, shaking her head as Oliver looked confused.

''Who put you in this dark cupboard?'' She asked the enchanted mirror in the corner.

''The man with the dirty hair. I've told him time and time again, 'take a bath!'.'' Said the mirror.

The two immediately knew who it was speaking of to be Argus Filch, their uncaring
caretaker.

Mirabelle laughed out loud, biting her lip to keep quiet.

Oliver smiled brightly at the sound of her laughter, his heart pounding ruthlessly from within
his chest.

''I should probably go.'' She glanced up at Oliver, shaking off those strange thoughts that rushed through her mind.

''Oh, right. Okay.'' He didn't want her to go.

Mirabelle pushed him against the wall, kissing him deeply and desperately.

He was most pleasantly shocked and attempted to recover quick enough to kiss her back.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her so close that it would definitely be considered a hug.

Oliver loved how it felt to hold her. To have her in his arms.

He restrained a sigh, kissing her with the pleading passion he felt.

Mirabelle stroked his cheekbone, hating that she loved this feeling.

She realized she didn't mind being hugged at all, as long as it were him hugging her.

You made my heart melt, yet I'm cold to the core.