"You know what I think?" Harry leaned across the table. "I think you're afraid. You don't take risks like us Gryffindors." He scoffed. "Please, you Gryffindors are all wand-waving and no spell." Harry grinned, settling back into his seat. "Not me. I always follow through." "Prove it." Harry stood up and walked around the table. He leaned over Draco, one hand no his chair and the other on the table. Their faces were a mere inch apart, so close that Draco could see flecks of brown in his emerald eyes. "I don't see any follow-through," Draco taunted. And then Harry kissed him. Harry's hands fell to his shoulders so quickly that Draco teetered on his seat. Draco reached up and grabbed Harry's shirt in an attempt to catch his balance which resulted in the two boys falling to the ground with Harry on top. Harry's cheeks were red with embarrassment as he tried to get up. All he managed to do was knee Draco in the leg. Draco put his hands on Harry's hips. "Stop. Let me." In one fluid motion, Draco flipped them around so he was kneeling above Harry. "And for future reference," Draco smirked, bringing his lips down to brush against his. "I'm always on top."

18+ / Very Mature "Please, this is like cliche-central. With a kinky twist." ††† I step under the hot stream of water, soaking my hair, and take a deep breathe. I try and clear my mind, focusing on the way the water feels hitting my body. I turn around, opening my eyes, only to shout out a curse and stumble back. Emma is directly in front of me, taking off her tank top, eyes glued to my body. I hadn't shut the curtains, thinking no one would be in here, and I didn't know if I was happy or mad I did that. I stood there speechless as her small hands grasped the bottom of her sports bra. I inhaled sharply when she pulled it up and over her head, exposing her breasts. They jiggled slightly as she tossed her clothes to the side, and I found my heart rate quickening at an alarming rate. "W-what are you doing?" I breathe out as she pulls her leggings down her body, leaving her in just a thong. "Showering." Emma tells me as if it's obvious.

Don't you call her baby. We're not talking lately. Don't you call her what you used to call me... A story in which a girl who writes songs falls in love with the boy who sings them. "Color...What a deep and mysterious language, the language of dreams." - Paul Gauguin. DO NOT PRINT MY BOOKS! *TW: story contains mature topics such as mental abuse, PTSD, minor drug usage, and minor sexual content.*