Authors Press: Your Chance To Share Your Writing

Welcome writers, readers, and all others, welcome all to Authors Press: Your Chance To Share Your Writing! I’m so excited you’ve decided to check out this site!

     What We Do

On Authors Press, we strive to share our stories. And your story. We want to give publicity to the authors that deserve it. We also want to give everyone safe, clean, yet interesting stories.

     How To Become a Part of It

Want to help us reach our goal? Become an author on Authors Press by going to our Become An Author page. Maybe you’ll become a favorite 🙂 ! Maybe you’ll become author of the week, or have your story publicized! I can’t wait to see who’ll be an author!

Well, that’s all for now! I hope to see you again some time!

The Authors at Authors Press

 

The Writers Ink Challenge

Hey y’all! So I was nominated by Rachel Vincent to accomplish this tag! Thanks Rachel!

The rules are simple

1.Thank your nominator

2. Answer at least any 8 questions about your writing

3. Nominate 5 other people

  • When did you first show a big interest in writing?

I remember it was about 2nd grade. My teacher would give us very random topics to write about. We would write about blueberry muffins to the tallest person in the world! I remember not struggling at all with coming up about an idea to write about. And I would write 2 to 3 pages at a time.

  • Is writing something that comes easy to you?

It does. I feel that I can explain myself through writing more-so than talking sometimes. Even when doing a short book summary I end up writing two pages. It isn’t a struggle, it comes naturally. So when my teacher says “write 500 words or more” I take that seriously and write about 1,000 instead.

  • Are you published yet?

Not yet. But in a year or so I hope to complete the first book in my christian mystery series: Triple J Mysteries. The title of the book being: The Campout Crisis. After that I hope to have my christian, romance, war novel: Hope published as well.

  • What style and genre do you like to write in?
  • Christian
  • Mystery
  • Romance
  • Historical (during wars or significant events)
  • In the years past. (Like the middle ages, old west , rennaissance, etc)
  • And once in a GREAT while, fiction

 

  • What gives you ideas to write about?

I love reading. So everytime I’ll read a book and idea pops into my head. “That will make a good book title” or “That is what my book could be about!” And I just go from there.

Note: If you ever get writers block; read a good book and the ideas will start coming fast! It also helps you improve your vocabulary and grammar.

  • Have you ever written a story with a friend?

I have. I am working on a book right now with Izzypopcorn entitled: Growing Flames, Glowing Hearts. 

  • Have you ever finished reading an entire book series?

Yes. The first series I completed was a christian mystery series called; Camp Club Girls. I have almost finished: The Boxcar Children, Nancy Drew, and Dear America.

  • What helps you with using good penmanship?

Writing a lot. When you are given a writing assignment don’t type it, write it! And even when you don’t have a writing assignment, write in a journal or diary to keep up your penmanship. Nobody likes a story they can’t read!

  • Would you recommend a pen name when writing? And do you use one?

I don’t have a pen name at the moment, but I have different choices to choose from.

If you don’t want to give out your real name: then yes

If you have a different or long name that is hard to spell/pronounce: then yes.(I have a weird last name)

Because how will people find your writings online if they can’t remember your name! Or if they ask for your book at a library, the librarian needs to know the name!

 

So that’s all the questions! 

Hope y’all enjoyed!

 

I nominate:

Izzypopcorn

Asqa

Lucky

And I can’t think of any more!

 

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Coming Soon: Riley

Hello, readers!

I, Rachel, am very excited to share the completed Riley story with you. I shared the cover…

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…on my other blog, Nancy Drew, but not here. I also started it on there, and received so much positive feedback I HAD to finish it. And, oh, yeah, I’m entering it into a school competition. So. Excited. I’ll be sure to keep you posted, and will share the story ASAP!
Rachel

New Collab Story with Cupcakegirl10! Chapter One

Hallooooo, my darlings! Cupcakegirl10 and I have started writing a story together. It’s a historical romance adventure! Sounds fun, right? Anyways, I’m here with chapter one. The Italian words are in italics, and we’ll tell you the meaning at the bottom of each post.

Chapter One: Chiara

It all started with a simple difference, as most arguments do. Difference of opinion, difference of the heart, difference in politics… everyone is different. For us, it was a difference of religion.
Papà was a good man, with a kind heart. But when it came to the topic of religion, he and Siena Amalia had completely different points of view. And it appeared that Papà’s temper, so short and frayed those days, had snapped.

“Mamma says to follow your heart,” I trembled, stepping in between Siena Amalia and Papà. Mamma shook her head vigorously and grabbed my hand, pulling me against her and out of the argument.

“Now is not the time, mia figlia.” She whispered in my ear, holding me close in a storm of anger and tears.

“I am not an animal for you to control!” Siena sobbed, but her eyes were bright with anger rather than sadness. “I have my own beliefs, and I am tired of hiding them. I am a Christian, and I am proud of it.” Pride blossomed within me as I looked upon my sister, whose fists were clenched in defiance, her stance betraying no fear.

Papà slapped her across the face.

“Sergio!” Mamma shrieked, covering her mouth with one hand as she watched Siena nurse the red welt on her cheek.

“It’s time you learned your place, woman,” Papà sneered, turning to Mamma and raising his fist. I burst into tears as I watched the horrors unfold before my eyes. Mamma, my strong, spirited mother, shrank back and kept quiet. She was helpless to the plight before us. Papà’s gaze returned to Siena, who stood tall despite her obvious pain.

“You can hurt me all you want,” she hissed, her dark eyes hot with rage. “But you cannot stop a mind from thinking. And think I will.”

“Then leave,” Papà growled. “As long as you look upon God differently from us, you are no daughter of mine.” The words hurt Siena more than the slap. However, she recovered her composure quickly.

“I suppose this is goodbye, then,” she responded stiffly, but I detected a hint of melancholy in her voice. “I’ll be gone by noon tomorrow.” Papà raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object. But I did.

“You can’t leave!” I cried, hugging my older sister to me in a torrent of sadness. “I need you.”

“Chiara, I’m sorry, but America is no place for a little girl,” Siena sighed, stroking my dark hair as my tears soaked the front of her dress.

“America?!” Mamma burst out. “You can’t go there! It is not safe.” Papà glared at her yet again, and she fell silent. I pulled away from Siena Amalia, my resolve stiffened.

“If you’re going to America,” I said, “Then I’m going too.” Papà turned his anger upon me, and Siena Amalia shook her head vigorously.

“Chiara, no,” they both stated emphatically. There was a flicker of kinship between them before they turned back to me.

“You banish my sister, you banish me,” I continued stubbornly, glaring back at Papà. Tension was thick in the room, and for a minute I thought Siena and I would have matching welts. Finally, though, Papà relented.

“Go,” he snarled. “Both of you. But let it be known, you will not be missed.” Mamma could not hold her tongue any longer.

“I will miss them,” she snapped, opening her arms to us. We both held tight, not knowing that was the last time we would ever see her.


Sew, what do you think? I hope you enjoyed it! Make sure to like and comment below.

Love from,

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P.S. Enter TPPWC! https://nancydrewblogforyou.wordpress.com/2017/03/11/the-prettiest-pens-writing-contest/

Box of Dreams-A Poem

Box of Dreams
By Izzy

I watch as the bird
rises into the air, carrying
its box of dreams
into the sky
but the salty golden potatoes of its longing are heavy
with need
to return to the
Earth
and the golden arches of its dream tumble
to the ground


Hey, my lovelies! Sew, what do you think of this poem? In case you couldn’t guess, it’s about a bird that tried to take a box of McDonald’s fries and couldn’t. 😥 Poor bird. Although it’s probably better off without McDonald’s in its digestive system. 😂 Should I post more poems? I probably will, since in two days, it will be National Poetry Month, aka April, aka month of my birth! Yay! Have a great day, darlings! Kisses! 😘

Love from,

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P.S. What do you think of my new signature? Inspired by the fantabulous Rachel Vincent, I got Canva and made my own signature. I personally really like it!

 

Change of the Seasons-A Short Story

I close my eyes and let the leaves swirl around me. They fade in and out, changing from crimson leaves to swirling snowflakes to dainty floating petals to salty sea spray. Always changing, churning in a continuous cycle from season to season.

Everything changes.

Change, change, change.

Change.

The word is sour on my tongue. I spit it into the changing seasons, but they swallow my hatred whole, transforming it into something beautiful. I’m tired of beautiful. I’m tired of the world acting like my pain and suffering are simply a figment of my overactive imagination. I’m tired of

change.


Sew, guys, what do you think of this one hundred word story? Constructive criticism is always appreciated. Make sure to like and comment below!

Love from,

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P.S. Enter TPPWC right here!

TPPWC, Prompt #1, Parts 1 & 2

Hello, my lovely friends! Today I have my story for Rachel Vincent’s The Prettiest Pen Writing Contest, Prompt #1. I’m on Team Panda, along with Cupcakegirl10 and Mary Louise. Woot woot! This is gonna be great, guys. Anyway, here’s my story!

Part One

The box. The door. The crumbling brick. It begged me to enter. So I did.

My heart thumped as I traveled deeper within the walls that had seen so much suffering and pain. This was the house where the girl had lived. The girl who was murdered.

I had heard many things about her. Some said her death was an honest mistake, that no one was to blame. I think they were just trying to convince themselves, along with everyone else.

They didn’t.

Some said it was burglars that killed her, searching for gold. But there was two things that everyone believed to be true. She always wore a red dress, the color of blood. She always stayed in a dark room, the color of death.

Always.

Part Two

I watched as the girl entered my domain. Didn’t she know what has happened here? Didn’t she know of the tragedy that had occurred?

I narrowed my ethereal eyes upon her being and gasped. She did know! She was curious. She wanted to disturb my last, last belly moments of peace. My last moments before my time between the worlds was ended, and I had to return to the underbelly of the universe. The realm of sinners, murderers, and those who finally get what they deserve.

Hell.

I could feel rage building within me, turning the edges of my vision into a creeping red. Red as blood. Red as my dress, my favorite dress.

My only dress.

I flew at her, screaming and shouting curses and waving clawed fingernails at her. She wailed and ran past me, shooing me away with her hands. I smirked.

Like that would work.

The second she passed my threshold, her pace slowed.

“I’m not afraid of you!” She called over her shoulder. I could sense the anger within her, but it was clouded with fear. I smiled. She would not bother me again.

“You should be,” I hissed. With that, she walked into the rain and didn’t look back.

That was the last time anyone ever saw her.

I made sure of it.


Ta da! What did you think? BTW, I had the prompts I did in italics. I actually did all of them! Go me! 😉😁 And the reason there’s two different parts is because it switches perspective from the girl to the ghost of the murdered girl in Part Two. Did ya catch that?

I love y’all! Make sure to like and comment below.

Love from,

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P.S. Enter TPPWC! Just go here: https://nancydrewblogforyou.wordpress.com/2017/03/11/the-prettiest-pens-writing-contest/. Have fun!

P.P.S. Go, Team Panda!!! 🐼 ❤️ 

TPPWC

Hey y’all! Most of y’all probably already know, but if not…

The creator of Author’s Press, Rachel, has another blog: http://www.nancydrewblogforyou.wordpress.com

Well she is having a contest. It’s called; The Prettiest pen writing contest. And I along with IzzyPopcorn and MaryLouise are on Team Panda!

We have to use certain sentences in our short story we come up with. Two for extra points.

So here is my story:

I was always alone in life. Not so much when I was little. I saw light and shapes. I saw the birds and the trees. I saw the freshest flowers and the most delicious pies. I saw the puffy white clouds and the fluttering butterflies. I saw my family, which I only had for a little while. Who, I could only see for a little while.

The birds and the animals were always my friends. I would come home from school, drop my glasses on the table and run outside and smell the fresh air. See the green trees and blue sky. And I would play with my friends. I was always called “Four eyes” because of my glasses. So the only true friends I had were the animals. Then mother would yell for me to come inside. I would go, reluctantly, and scrub the shop’s floors, and tables. I would count the money in the register, and the stock. Then I would be so tired I just collapse on my bed. “Working hard makes a good shopkeeper”, “A healthy girl makes a good shopkeeper”, mother would say.

Doctors visits were a regular thing with mother. “We must make sure you are healthy”, “The healthy girl makes a good shopkeeper”. She didn’t want a daughter, just an assistant.

But strangely, the world grew darker each day and mother talked less and less to me each day. My animal friend’s once vibrant color’s faded. The black board at school became harder to see. Even the blue sky started to appear gray. She couldn’t bear to tell me what the doctors had told her. She didn’t have the nerve to look at me. She couldn’t even tell her own daughter that:

She was going blind.

One day I couldn’t see anything. I screamed, I cried, I yelled. No objects were visible, the people were gone, my bedroom was a dark cell. All light was gone, all hope had faded, all the faces of the world were just cold dark voices. The buildings and trees I couldn’t see. All I saw was black. Cold, dark black. It was like a never ending night. Mother’s face was just a voice coming from the corner. I couldn’t look into the mirror. I couldn’t see what was for breakfast. The colors and adventure the world had once been so full of, were gone. The green of the grass, the blue of the sky, the purple of the lilacs, the white of the linens, were all black. All dark. The animals which I had once played and looked at for hours, were gone. I even shined a flashlight into my eyes, and I couldn’t even see that. I couldn’t see them. I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t breathe in my everlasting cell of darkness.

Mother always wanted a strong girl so she could raise her up to take over the family business. A healthy one. But, I was healthy! I just couldn’t see anything. Nothing. Not even my own hand in front of my face. I was blind and mother had to accept that. I could still work. Still make a good shopkeeper.

Mother just took me, just thought of me as a sack. A dumb old sack with holes. It could hold nothing, it was good for nothing but to be thrown away. And that’s what she did.

She dumped me on a street on a cold and I think rainy day. I could feel the hard cement of the sidewalk and the hardness of my mother’s heart. I called to her to come back. I cried for her not to leave me. I told her I could be a good daughter and shop keeper. I cried, I begged, I begged her to look into the face of her daughter and show love. But I couldn’t see if she cried or laughed at me. I couldn’t see her resentment or her obligation to leave me. Hot tears continued to stream down my face. I was soaked to the bone with rain, I shivered from the cold of the rain and the darkness of my sight.  The world was dark. She was dark. The sky once blue, was black. The flowers once pink, were black. My favorite yellow dress that I always wore, was black. Even my red hair, was black. I couldn’t see the people walking by, or the cars on the street. I couldn’t see the rain clouds or the birds taking shelter.

I couldn’t see, and that’s what she hated me for. I wasn’t healthy enough to be a shopkeeper. And apparently not good enough to be her daughter.

And with that she walked into the rain and didn’t look back. And that was the last time anyone ever saw her. The last time I ever saw her.

 

Hope you enjoyed!

~cupcakegirl10

Tears and Raindrops, Chapter 10 (Last Chapter!)

Yeah, you read that right. This is the last chapter! I know, I know, I’m sad too. I wrote an epilogue, but I absolutely detest it, so I won’t be posting it. However, if I rewrite it, I’ll let you guys read it. Without further ado, our final chapter!

Chapter 10: Hermione

“Malfoy? Really, Hermione?” Parvati cried in consternation.

“I don’t… want to talk about this right now, Parv.” I sighed, holding my head in my hands and resting my elbows on my knees.

“Not optional,” Parvati stated firmly.

“Agreed,” Lavender put in. “How could you keep this from us, Hermione?”

“Do you even have to ask?” I mumbled grumpily. They both raised an eyebrow at me.

“Yes!!!” They whined in unison, then laughed and wrapped their arms around each other.

“But really, Hermione. Why him? Any boy in this school would kill to be yours.” Lavender lamented.

“And any girl, for that matter,” Parv winked, and Lav blushed.

“Guys, stop. It’s just… don’t you want me to be happy?” I didn’t understand why this was such a big deal. Never mind, I did. Because, well… it just is.

“Of course. But how can you be happy with Malfoy?” Lav was clearly confused and a little disgusted.

“He cares, Lav.” I gestured with my hands for emphasis. “He cares about me, and he likes me for me! It’s not just about my looks, or my brains, or what I’ve done. It’s who I am. And I like him! I really, really like him.” I flopped back on my bed and sighed. Suddenly Parv and Lavender looked understanding and sympathetic. “He’s sorry. He’s sorry for how he was.”

“Is,” Parvati glowered. She had especially hated Malfoy since first year, when he stole Neville’s Remembrall.

“Was,” I emphasized. “He’s changed.” They still looked dubious. Finally, though, they sighed and hug-attacked me.

“If he makes you happy, then we’ll deal with him,” Lav conceded.

“But if he breaks your heart, I’m jinxing him to high heck and back,” Parvati smirked.

“Deal,” I grinned. “Hey, when you guys go down for breakfast, can you please grab me some toast?” The gossip about me and Draco had spread overnight, and I didn’t feel like facing a bunch of whispering incredulity that morning. However, my friends had other plans.

“Yeah, right,” Parvati snorted. “You’re coming with us.” Lavender nodded emphatically.

“You’re gonna face those brats head on.” I stuck my tongue out at them.

“I already faced you two.” They stuck their tongues back out at me and dragged me downstairs. Wherever I went, curious eyes followed me, and I shrank back into my friends, my protectors.

“You can do this,” Lavender soothed. We stood in front of the Great Hall’s massive door, and my legs shook with fear.

“Pfft! Come on, girl. You’ve faced worse than this!” Parvati laughed. “You got a game plan?” I nodded. “Of course you do. Now go!” They shoved me towards the doors, which swung wide at my touch, and followed, hands clasped. Their presence gave me the courage to do what I needed to do.

Multitudinous pairs of eyes latched onto me as I strode the aisle between the Slytherin and Ravenclaw tables, my own eyes searching for the person I wanted to see most at that moment.

“Hermione?” There he was, gray eyes wide and bloodshot from lack of sleep, ivory hair still tousled from a rough night. Despite his flaws, I loved him.

Love. It was such a foreign concept to me at that point, but I had a plan, and I was going to follow through with it. I quickened my pace, cupped Draco’s pale face in my smooth brown hands, and kissed him in front of the entire hall.

Dead silence filled the cavernous space, interrupted only by several people, who had presumably had the hots for me, swearing violently. To me, though, it felt as if anything and everything faded away, leaving only Draco and me and our lips melding together.

It seemed minutes, hours, weeks before we pulled away, but eventually, we did. Draco’s eyes were wide, and they darted around the hall as we gauged various reactions. McCormick and Smith looked absolutely murderous, but Lavender and Parvati were grinning. Finally, Parvati stood upon her seat and wolf whistled. Slowly, a storm of clapping overwhelmed the boos and shrieks of outrage, and I beamed. I started towards my friends, but I felt a hand grasp my wrist as I was pulled backwards.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Malfoy smirked. I saw McGonagall smile before Draco pulled me close, and my world was made anew.


Well, that’s it! I hope you enjoyed this. Comment below what your favorite part of this story was! Also, should I rewrite the epilogue and post it here?

Love from,

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Tears and Raindrops, Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Draco

“Mr. Malfoy!” Boomed Slughorn’s reproachful voice. “I would greatly appreciate it if you paid attention.”

“Sorry, sir.” I mumbled, but the second he began to drone on yet again, I slipped back into my delightful fantasy. Except it wasn’t a fantasy. It was a memory. I held the memory of that night close to my chest. The memory our lips melding together, her hands in my hair, my hands caressing her beautiful, beautiful face.

When McCormick and Smith taunted and teased, I met her eyes across the hall and slipped into that euphoria. When I was avoided at all costs, even by my fellow Slytherins, I retreated into that memory. If I closed my eyes, I could almost feel my hand on her smooth cheek, and her sweet taste on my lips, like fresh raspberries.

“Draco?” I jerked out of my happy thoughts at her soft touch on my arm.

“Huh?” I looked around. Everyone had left except her, me, and Slughorn.

“Class is over,” Hermione told me gently before breezing out of the room. I left the room in a daze and stumbled out onto the grounds, collapsing under a beech tree through my lovesick fog.

Lovesick. Was I in love? I brushed the thought off to return to later and stretched out in the gentle May sun to do my homework. As I removed my potions textbook from my bag, I found a small, crisply folded note tucked between the pages. I grinned. Granger must’ve slipped it in while I was daydreaming. I gently unfolded it and read it through.

Draco,

Meet me tonight at the top of the tallest tower. Come alone. Sorry it’s been so long, but, well, I’ve been busy. See you there!

Love from,

Hermione

Love from, Hermione. Those three words sent shivers up my back. Love. It was such a foreign concept to me at that point that I wasn’t sure how to react. I’d be there, though. I was sure of that.

“Malfoy! Hey, Malfoy! Whatcha reading?” Smith shouted across the lawn as he and McCormick strode towards me, their grins full of malice. Jeez. What did I have to do to get away from those two? Somehow, I felt that melting into the background wouldn’t help me this time.

“Private,” I muttered, clutching the note to my chest. Wrong thing to say.

“Accio note!” McCormick cried, a vile smirk lighting up his features.

“No-don’t!” I yelled, but it was too late. The two of them put their heads together and read my note in mocking tones as a crowd gathered around us.

“‘Love from, Hermione.’ As in, Hermione Granger?” Smith looked shocked.

“There aren’t any other Hermiones at our school, doofus,” McCormick chided, smacking Smith on the back of the head. “But… Jeez, Malfoy. You and Granger?” He sounded absolutely incredulous. The surrounding crowd swelled with gossip. I didn’t know what to do. All I could think was, Hermione.

They were going to eat her alive.


I really liked writing this one. What do you think will happen next? Make sure to like and comment below!

Love from,

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Processed with MOLDIV

P.S. Rachel Vincent-above is the signature I made for you. I hope you like it!

 

Tears and Raindrops, Chapter 8

A/N: Ok, guys, this is it. The big one! I’m sew excited!!!!!

Chapter 8: Hermione

“What’s wrong with you?” I yelled to the hall. My face was flushed with anger, and my fists were clenched. “How could you just stand there and let someone be tortured?” Everyone shuffled their feet and looked down, ashamed. Then I turned to the head table and Headmistress McGonagall, and my rage burned white hot.

“How could you let this happen?” I screamed at her. “I thought you had more sense than that.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “Apparently, I was wrong.” I turned tail and ran as lightning cracked and rain began to pour down from the enchanted ceiling.

I don’t know how I knew where to find him. I just thought about anger and pain and everything filling me, and in minutes he was before me.

He sat at the top of the tallest tower, legs crossed and head bowed. I stood watching him for a few minutes, imagining reaching out and stroking his soft white-blonde hair. Rain pounded down around him, and he was soaked to the skin. Cold evaded him, however, for nothing could end his pain at that moment.

“Hey,” he called over the incessant drumming of the rain. His voice was off, and my heart throbbed with sympathy as I strode over and sat beside him.

“Hey,” I whispered in his ear. “I’m sorry.” He tensed, and I took his hand, letting him lean into me.

“Not your fault,” he replied. “I… I should probably be used to it, by now.” There was a half beat of hesitation before he continued. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” After some thought, I voiced a question that had been troubling me. “Why do you let them push you around like this? You could stop them.” Draco nodded.

“You’re right, I could. But I don’t.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Why?” My voice cracked, and a single tear mingled with the raindrops.

“I deserve this.” His voice was full of pain. “I deserved that, after everything I’ve done… I should be tortured.” I grabbed his shoulders and turned him to face me. He looked up, down, anywhere but me.

“Draco,” I murmured. Gray eyes found warm brown ones, and…

I kissed him.

It was fiercer than anything with Ron, more passionate. I could feel Draco’s longing, almost hunger, and I fed that. I stroked his hair, ran my fingertips along his jawline, pulled him closer. I followed every crazy impulse I’d had since that moment in the potions room, and I loved it. I wouldn’t stop until there wasn’t a breath left in my body, and only then did I pull away.

“Wow,” Draco breathed. “I mean, uh… wow.” He couldn’t seem to form a coherent sentence, maybe because I kept stroking his hair or running my fingertips along his strong jawline. Finally, he grabbed my hands, pulled them down, and looked me straight in the eyes. “Hermione…”

“Yeah?” I asked absentmindedly, trying to pull my hands away. He grabbed them again, and the look in his eyes made me stop.

“Why did you kiss me?” The seriousness in his tone surprised me.

“What?” I was absolutely befuddled.

“Why did you kiss me?” He repeated. Now he looked worried. “Because I don’t want to be a pity case, or a rebound fling, or-”

“Draco,” I cut him off, rubbing my thumbs in circles on his. “I kissed you because I’m tired of waiting around for happiness. I’m ready to make my own happiness. And you… Draco, you make me really, really happy.”

“You’re sure?” He still sounded dubious.

“I’m sure.” I pulled him close and our lips met as the rain poured down.


Make sure to like and comment below! Constructive criticism is always helpful. 

Love from,

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