I'm not like one of those girls. They're weird...they're sort of ugly, and they're anything but sexually active. They don't know how to wear their hair so they leave it hanging down their backs all frazzled and frizzy or they keep it up in a ponytail or tight bun simply to resist having to consistently flip it behind they're shoulder, which, heaven forbid may make them look too flirtatious.

I do admit it was rather nice of her to hold my hair back while the entirety of my innards spilled out of my mouth (that’s a fancy way of saying I barfed)

Who needs a Scorpius when you've got a Dominique?

She’s right (big surprise there). It was my fault. I am completely one hundred percent to blame. And though it was probably the most irresponsible thing I’ve ever done to have unprotected sex with a boy who had a girlfriend while under the influence of alcohol, I think this was meant to teach me something. And whether I wanted to admit it or not, at the end of all this I would come out on top.

Bravery means not hiding you’re baby bump when Dominique and Kimberly walk into the room. Bravery means telling your parents you’re pregnant in person. Bravery means telling the father of your baby that you’re still pregnant. Bravery means getting the abortion. Bravery means to use reason to do what’s right no matter how hard it may seem. I don’t think I’m that brave. I wish I were. I wish I could stand up in the Great Hall with a proud hand on my belly and yell “I’m pregnant and I am happy and I am keeping my baby!"

There is nothing like truth. Sometimes it is liberating. And sometimes it holds you down. It holds you down so tight you can hardly breathe

It presses its hand against my uterus, she presses hers against my skin, they meet. With only a layer of muscle between them. Just a simple layer of skin stopping their hands from touching.

Do you think he would be offended if I asked him to marry me? I smile up at him with fantasies of him and me written in my eyes.

 “You know Kim…I used to respect you for staying with Scorpius after everything.” She folds her arms over her breasts looking almost as if she’s holding back a cackle of laughter. “I really thought you were a decent human being. Guess I was wrong.”

“I know…” I whisper, “I’m sorry…Lily please, don’t tell. Please Lily.” 

He’s kissing me, and not like how he would kiss his mother. But rather like he did when we first met. With passion, and I am kissing back.

 We beam at each other, both thinking the same thing: 'This is it. Everything changes starting now'. He sighs and nods painfully and abruptly enfolds me in a hug unlike one we've ever shared before. It's desperate and warm and I cling to him with hope and desire and worry and all of my emotion and he clings back.