Give in to Love, or Live in Fear

The weekend carried on like a blur of passing colors, white and black to green and yellow.

The snow melted and the leaves grew bright on the once dead trees.

Spring was upon Hogwarts and all the students were back to enjoy it.

"First match is the 22nd. Gryffindor verus Slytherin." They announced at breakfast, causing the Great Hall to errupt in cheers and wolf calls.

It was a great understatement that Quidditch was well cultivated into the Wizarding World.

Anyone who was disinterested was often looked at as though they were wearing a hat fashioned out of various household appliances.

The days leading up to the match was Slytherin's busiest.

While the players practiced, their fellow house mates could be found attempting to injure the Gryffindor team in halls and classrooms while professor's where otherwise preocupied.

They would trip them on their way walking past, startle them to fall down a flight of moving staircases or bribe the Bloody Baron into scaring them out of breakfast.

But all those and more wasn't enough to disband the Gryffindor team and the seven of them turned up in uniform, walking with dignity into the Great Hall for some eggs and toast the day of the match.

The Slytherin table booed them as they took their seats, before being shushed by an irritated Professor McGonagal.

They chuckled and went back to their bergamot marmalade and toast.

"I can't wait!" Mirabelle entered the Great Hall with Marcus, her stomach doing flips of excitement.

Marcus laughed. "You're gonna need to knock Wood out if we want to get any points."

"I told you it won't be a problem." She shook her head. "Now let's eat!"

The two 6th years joined their friend and team mate Adrian, a raven haired Englishman with a certain fondness for food.

Though lanky as ever, you couldn't tell.

"You ready for the game?" Marcus asked, adjusting his emerald and silver Quidditch robes.

"Am I! It's been days since I kicked a Gryffindor's butt!" He cackled, taking a vicious bite out of his scrambled eggs.

Mirabelle laughed, nodding in agreement as she sipped a cold goblet of fresh pumpkin juice.

"Well eat up, team." Marcus instructed down the table to the rest of the Slytherin's on the team. "We're going to squish Gryffindor today."

The Great Hall quickly emptied, students and teachers alike making their way to the Quidditch pitch.

A blur of yellow and red flooded one half of the stadium, and green and silver filled the rest.

The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws seemed to take a liking to Gryffindor suddenly, though that hardly surprised.

In their respective locker rooms, the two teams readied for the first official game of the year.

Miles began basic arm excercises after strapping on his padding.

They stretched and dressed in their emerald green robes and Mirabelle tied up her long raven tresses in a high pony tail.

The Gryffindors got pumped up with Oliver's pre game pep speech as they got dressed.

And the crowd's cheering and chants could be heard faintly beyond the locker room walls.

"Alright. Let's get out there." Marcus lead the way to the stadium entrance.

"Give a round of applause for Slytherin! And Gryffindor!" Lee Jordan shouted over the hand held speaker and the two teams rushed out at the mention of their house names.

Emerald and scarlet zoomed past on broomsticks across the students eyes and they shouted with excitement.

"Madam Hooch releasing the balls! The snitch already out of sight! Oh, watch out, Oliver!" He winced when Marcus Flint got a bit too close for his comfort to the hoops.

The score remained 0/0 for a while, as both Keepers were very good at what they do.

But it could not last and Gryffindor managed to catch Miles by surprise.

The clousters of Lion supporters errupted into painfully loud screams and Lee Jordon struggled to be heard.

"10/0 Gryffindor!" Lee screamed with glee, fighting the urge to stick out his tongue at the booing patrons of the Slytherin house.

But the silver and emerald clad Quidditch players were keen to even the score.

Montague headed with determination to the goal posts, and just when Oliver thought he would try and score, he passed it to Adrian and the raven haired Slytherin threw it right in.

The air was deafening with a mixture of boos and cheers and Lee Jordan announced the latest activity.

Oliver groaned, but stayed focused.

Mirabelle hadn't knocked anyone out yet, though none were giving her reason.

Angelina Johnson snatched away the Quaffle from Marcus, who acquired it through Adrian.

"Angelina's got it!" Lee happily shouted, dropping the smile when he noticed a stern stare from McGonagal.

Mirabelle didn't like this Gryffindor, she was too good at what she does. She caught the nearest pelting blunder and hit it her way, knocking the ball out of her hand long enough for Monsour to catch it.

Angelina grasped her broomstick desperately for a moment, before diving back in.

Monsour got the ball stolen right from his hand as he dashed toward the goal posts by a smug faced Katie Bell.

A blur of sandy blonde blinded him momentarily and she threw the ball to the Slytherin post, but Miles caught it and tossed it down to Adrian.

Katie huffed and tried to steal it once again.

As Adrian move through the air flawlessly, he circled the hoops, hoping to throw Oliver off.

But he was too good for that and Marcus nudged Mirabelle to take him out.

She did so with reluctance, but Quidditch was quidditch, right? He would understand.

She swung the bat at him from across the stadium and he flipped backward on the impact, he stumbled through the air long enough for Slytherin to score.

He cradled his no dount shattered arm and cracked ribs, but played through the pain.

It was close nearly the entire game but in the end Harry Potter caught the stitch as it zoomed past the cheery students in the stands and Gryffindor won.

The Slytherin team took to the showers, angry and disappointed, though they were only encouraged to demolish Gryffindor next match.

*

Mirabelle dressed in a dark green dress and snuck off to the Hospital Wing after hours.

She wished to check up on Oliver, and had waited quite a while for everyone who was visiting him to leave, including Madam Pomfrey.

She peeked around the corner to see him alone, laying on his back in one of the beds lined along the lengthy and lean wing.

Mirabelle walked all the way to his bedside without him hearing her and bit her full lower lip as she glanced down at him.

He seemed to be sleeping, but she was almost sure he wasn't.

"Oliver?" She spoke softly as to not startle him.

He opened his eyes quickly. He thought he may have been hearing things. There was no way she would come to check up on him.

And yet, here she stand, her pillow lips slightly parted and her hair in loose waves.

"Hey." He greeted warmly, smiling stupidly as he attempt to sit up. Though painful, he managed.

"How are you?" She asked, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, her hands in a nervous heap upon her lap.

"I'm good. Much better now." Oliver almost couldn't fight the desire to pull her nearer, but dared not risk it.

Mirabelle nodded. "So you're not angry at me?" She glanced over at him through her lashes.

She was afraid he would be upset and hold a grudge against her.

Oliver frowned and shook his head. "Of course not. You were just playing the game." He smiled in assurance.

She smiled then too, relieved as she play with her fingers.

Oliver took her hand, causing her to glance up curiously at him.

He gently caress his thumb over her knuckles, fighting his desire to pull her to his chest.

Mirabelle bit her lip as she meet his eyes, they looked upon her with emotions hard to define.

A dreamy glint in his dark brown eyes pulled her in and she closed her eyes to kiss his lips.

She knew now how deep she was in. She wondered if she would be able to part after Hogwarts, like she had always planned.

Mirabelle felt sick with her sudden realization and she frowned against his lips, unable to continue kissing him in her current state of mind.

"What's wrong?" He saw the downard tug of her vast pink lips and the sadness displayed in her emerald eyes.

Mirabelle gave him a fake smile and shook her head. She wasn't sure how he would take the knowledge of her intentions for parting.

"It's nothing. I'm sorry I hurt you." She stood, straightening out her knee length green dress.

"Wait! Don't go." He plead, biting his lip and catching her hand.

Mirabelle glanced over at him. "Visiting hours are over. They have been."

Oliver scoffed. "I don't care. I want you here. I wouldn't care if no one else came. You coming here just means everything."

"Well I did kinda pelt you with a blundger at 80 miles per hour." She teased to lighten his romanticisms. She didn't know how to react normally to such conduct.

Oliver nodded. "Yeah, you did." He laughed.

Mirabelle sighed and took a seat once more. Surrendering to his childish laugh unintentionally.

"How long before your ribs mend?" She asked, noticing the empty potion bottle atop the bedside table.

"I think they might be already." He poked, and winced none.

Mirabelle smiled. "That's good."

"Listen, Oliver..." Mirabelle sighed, getting a bit more serious.

Oliver bit his lip in anxiety, knowing this was coming and a day overdue.

"I thought we should stop after Christmas Holiday."

Oliver felt his stomach begin tying into knots and his heart sunk, but she wasn't finished talking yet.

"But I-... I think I changed my mind. I just want to be with you." She admitted, biting her lip and peeking over at him.

She hoped this knowledge wouldn't make him any less eager for her prolonged affection.

Oliver's lips broke out into a bright smile and he breathed a relieved sigh.

"Y-You do?" He stammered, his heart wild in his chest.

Mirabelle nodded to answer his hyperactive question. And she smiled lightly at his wide grin.

It sent a flock of monarchs fluttering through her chest and knowing she put that sweet simper there made it that much more monumental.

Oliver pulled her to him, he couldn't resist.
She slowly layed back against him, unsure of what she was doing, if she should be doing it here in the hospital wing.

It was just different from what they usually do. It felt heavier, more intense and personal.

As scary as it was, she also enjoyed it.

She rest her cheek against his collar bone and listened to his throbbing heart in his chest.

Oliver wrapped one arm around her waist and played with her long, black tresses. They were shiny and soft to the touch, as he had always imagined.

Her scent was of lilac and Summer rain and of all things that seemed to enchant him.

Mirabelle's emerald eyes were lulled to a slow, fluttering close and she breathed steadily, at peace.

She had never allowed him such an intimate display and he felt afraid she would suddenly come around and leave him cold and alone in the empty hospital wing.

"Mirabelle... Do you think we could be... public?" He bit his lip, anticapting her reply with an anxious heart.

She pulled away and sat up. "Does it really matter so much? We don't need everyone else for our relationship." She sigh, a heavier heart now in her chest.

"I know, but... I hate pretending I don't know you. I want to be able to kiss you wherever, whenever." Oliver sighed, growing more serious.

Just to cease the scary chatter, she said, "I will think about it," frowning in the shadows left by the moon.

Oliver smiled lightly, nodding. "Okay."

"I should go now." She stood, sighing inaudibly as a twang of guilt formed in her stomach.

Oliver frowned, wishing for her company to be extended. But he understood. She needed to sleep and so did he.

"Goodnight." He sighed, taking her hand to place a kiss upon her knuckle.

" Bonne nuit, ma chérie." She sadly bid farewell, lingeringly letting go of his hand.

The next morning the Gryffindor table was even roudier than even before.

They gloated to one another loudly on their house team's success and Marcus growled when they passed by.

The boastful Gryffindor first years winced and gasped, leaning away from the grouchy Slytherin.

Mirabelle laughed. The antics of her close friends ceaselessly humoring her.

The two took their seat at their house table to the far left of the entrance, sighing heavily down at the freshly made breakfast before them.

Adrian spent the whole morning simply glaring ahead, silent.

"We'll get them, guys." Mirabelle assured, patting Adrian's hand from his place across from her.

Marcus miserably bit into a crunchy piece of toast.

She smiled sympathetically, though fully understood. She too was bummed about their loss.

"Oh! I know! Lets go give some first years the direction to Peeves." She teased, raising her arched ebony brow, knowing it would cheer them up.

They cracked smiles and shook their head at her. The thought was an entertaining one.

Peeves had quite the sense of humor.

Mirabelle smiled brightly. Proud of herself.

They ate as normally after, cracking dark jokes and planning ways to make the Gryffindor team suffer.

Adele met them then, her pale blonde locks tied up in a high pony tail and a sigh upon her unevenly perportioned lips.

"I can't believe they won." She cast a dark glare over her shoulder before sitting next to Mirabelle.

Marcus seemed to appear slightly pinker in the face and took a large gulp of pumpkin juice.

Mirabelle nodded. "They're going so far down next match!"

"I hate Harry Potter." Adele scoffed the name, taking a bite of scrambled eggs.

*

Lessons went by slowly, as if they had never stopped and Mirabelle found she was quite distracted.

The desire to rise above from the ashes of their latest loss boiling her blood during a very monotonous Charms class.

Sixth year was proving to be the most academically difficult yet. And stacks of homework awaited Mirabelle in her chambers.

Nonverbal spells was what she was learning now, and though she had done it before, when she was frightened or angry, she had never done it on purpose.

With a lot of dreary retries, she at last made it happen, though the outcome was unfavorable.

By mistake, she had simultaneously lit the dark wooden walls around them on fire.

Had it not been for Professor Flitwick's quick actions, it could have been devastating.

"So we have some work to do." Mirabelle offered a sheepish smile.

Flitwick fell from his stack of books in a faint.

**

With Quidditch, N.E.W.Ts and Oliver, Mirabelle was feeling extremely stretched.

She and Adrian sat in the courtyard in silence, taking in the peace that had been deprived of the last few days.

Adrian lay with his back again the tree the two sat under and Mirabelle lay on her back in the grass.

The stoneflag courtyard was nearly emptied, with the exception of a few first years gazing over a book far off.

When she and he walked back to their house, they were stopped by a newly released Oliver Wood.

He seemed in perfect health after two nights in the hospital wing.

But Mirabelle had been avoiding visiting him and he wanted to know why. Or if he was just overreacting.

Adrian rolled his baby blues and told Mirabelle goodbye, before walking away without a word to Oliver.

Though he didn't care. He wasn't very fond of her circle of friends either.

"What is it?" Mirabelle asked, frowning after walking ahead, expecting him to follow.

And he did just that.

"I haven't seen you. How are you?" He asked, trying not to seem too bothered by it and invoke her defensive wrath.

Mirabelle glanced over at him and shrugged. "Fine. I guess... Busy."

"Oh." Oliver nodded.

"Why?" She rose a suspicious brow at his odd question.

He shrugged. "No reason." He offered a smile, but there was something off about it.

"What's wrong?" Mirabelle frowned, stopping in an empty back corridor to give him a concern look.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, afraid to bring it up.

"You can tell me, Oliver." She pressed, genuinely worried.

He sighed. "I was just wondering... Are you avoiding me because of what I asked you?" Oliver glanced up at her with those vast dark depths, biting his lower lip.

Mirabelle had almost forgotten! With all that N.E.W.T homework and Quidditch lessons. But a pinch at her told her she was motivated a little by his inquiry.

"I've just been so busy. Quidditch, classes. It's taking a lot out of me." She explained one half of the truth.

"I'm sorry about that." He frowned, seeing how tired she was in her emerald green eyes.

She gave a small reassuring smile and shrug.

"I know." He suddenly smiled, taking her hand and leading her to a different corridor.

She was confused as she allowed herself to be pulled along excitedly by her secret boyfriend.

"The twins told me about this." He told her, stopping in front of a great blank stone wall.

"They told you about a... a wall?" Mirabelle laughed, raising an arched brow.

"Not just any wall." Oliver smiled, taking his eyes off the vast stone to gaze upon his perplexed Slytherin.

With her hand still in his, he explained.

"It's called the Room of Requirements. In your time of need, it provides." He smiled.

At that moment the wall contorted and shifted to an unremarkable small wooden door.

Oliver smiled and opened the door, leading her inside.

Mirabelle smiled brightly at the sight within.

It was a big cozy room with fluffy carpeted floors. In the center, a King sized bed adorned in the finest silk, fur and satin sheets the wizarding world could provide.

Mirabelle laughed and looked up at him. But she wasn't sure what to say, instead she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned into him, giving him a whole hearted embrace.

Oliver smiled, stunned and now flushed, he held her there with soft hands. Closing his eyes and squeezing her briefly.

"This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me." Mirabelle bit her lip, wondering how she could repay him.

Oliver's heart warmed a substancial degree and he smiled shyly down at her.

"I care about you, a lot. I would do anything for you." He told her sincerely, his arms still on her waist, keeping her a mere inches apart.

A rosy blush immerged upon her fair cheeks and she glanced downward as she smile.

"Come on." She took his hand, leading him to the soft inviting sheets.

She lay down on her side, facing him as he too lay across the vast plains of silken plush.

Mirabelle smiled sleepily when he looked at her, her eyes trailing away shyly under his glance.

She took his hand and intertwine their fingers, she then brought his held hand to her chest, close to her heart.

Oliver resisted the pleading desire to spill his feelings out like a pouring of heavy rain.

But it proved to be difficult, what with pure sublime emotion pumping rapidly through his blood.

He wished this moment to never end.