The Boy Who Made All The Wrong Choices

XXV

(The song doesn't really have any correlation. I just love it)

Welcome! I always knew I wanted some big drama to happen at some point, but I needed to figure out when and how everything would happen, and I've officially got it. I'm still kind of winging it, but I hope the intensity brings out a little more personality in this story. which is something it didn't have much of when I started it.

I'm hoping this next little while will bring character depth! POV changes! drama! (ok chill chris mclean)

Anyway, I'm excited to write this. Which is something I haven't felt while writing in a long time. I hope you enjoy it :)

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It was hard to think of anything negative when I had Harry in my arms. The only thoughts passing through my mind were about how pretty his eyes are, and how his glasses made him look dorky, yet adorable. His smile gave me nervous butterflies, and everywhere his hands touched left a tingling sensation on my skin.

When his chapped lips brushed mine, it was like an explosion. What an absolute cliché. My body always feels out of my control when we're kissing. My fingers would absentmindedly wander around his torso, while Harry always ran his hands through my hair.

It felt like I was in one of my mother's cheesy romance novels, but with much less awful sex scenes. Although, if offered, I wouldn't deny something a little more intimate.

So far, makeouts, and more recently, horny teenage-esque grinding, have been quite common at random times during the day.

For the past week, I've let myself ease a little bit off my guard. When I felt a grab at my wrist, I no longer yelped and tried to run, because I always knew it was Harry that was yanking me into another dramatic alcove in the halls. As his hands snaked around me and very inappropriately grabbed my arse, I thought; I could get used to this whole 'not being scared all the time' thing.

Once, after Harry had whispered into my ear "meet me in the third-floor bathroom in five minutes", it had lead to me being pushed against a stall wall with my robes off, and Harry's shirt unbuttoned. I nervously ran my hands along his chest while he attacked my neck with opened mouth kisses. I wasn't reciprocating much, and the green-eyed boy definitely noticed.

"What's wrong?" he asked breathily into my neck.

"I just," I began, playing with the buttons on Harry's shirt. "I keep getting the feeling that someone's going to catch us, and everything's gonna go wrong."

He pulled off of my collarbones to look me in the eyes. Fuck, they're so GREEN.

"Hey, nothing is going to happen. And if we do get caught, I'll make sure that nobody touches you, alright?" Harry smiled his wonderful smile back at me. It was bright enough to make me believe every word that came out of his mouth.

I took a deep breath and smirked. "You're gonna protect me, oh saviour?"

Harry let out a low chuckle that absolutely did not make me shiver, and dove back in. "Yeah... I'll protect you good."

And once again, in Harry's presence, I felt safe. I let myself push the worries to the back of my head and enjoy the feeling of his wet tongue dragging along the tendons of my neck up to my jaw.

But no matter how far I pushed it, there was always this thought the size of a mosquito in the back of my head. I could almost hear it's high-pitched buzzing. It was dread. It's almost like it's warning me that something awful is about to happen, and my week of pure happiness will be over in a flash.