I sprint through the halls frantic, breath heaving. I need a place to hide, he's coming closer my mind shrieked. I'm looking, I'm looking I think back as though there is another person inside my head. In truth there's like five voices in my head that each come out with my different emotions.
I halt, suddenly aware that I have worked myself into a dead end during my foolish inner monologue. It's as if I can see my own face drop when the realization hits that I'm backed into a corner and I can hear his footsteps, as he races after me. The male pursuing me is far too close to flee and I'll have to stay and fight. I can just sense the smirk on the blonde's face because he know he's closing in for the kill.
Think Rose, think! My voices scream again. You are a slytherin, and a bloody good one at that, now don't just stand there, that 10 pound lump 2 feet above your butt isn't there for nothing. I ponder my situation, I can still hear his footsteps echo on the stone floor, but noticeably less frequent… I quickly come to the realization that he is stalking me, he is enjoying the chase. That's it! It won't be as satisfying if I let him come to me and I pray that it will throw him off because he knows my inclination has always been to hide.
While I'm cataloguing my surroundings and formulating my plan, he comes. His stupid white-blonde hair is obvious and gleaming in the dim torch light at the end of the hall. My eyes automatically move to his lips that are presently formulated into his trademark smirk. He approaches slowly in a confident gait, he thinks he has one, but little does he know that the game is not over yet.
He reaches me just as I finish formulating my plan. His body is pressed close, he places an arm on each side of my face, bringing his face millimeters from mine. My blonde opponent could end this game so quickly, he just had to move fractionally and he would win, but as I suspected he is waiting, to savor his moment of victory.
I have him exactly where I need him to enact my plan. He thinks that he has the upper hand because I am the one pressed against a wall, but we'll just see about that.
He brings his lips close to my ear, whispering sensually, "My Rose," now moving his head so his lips are pressed against my neck, "Mine to touch without the prick of a thorn." He was now kissing my neck and I brought my left hand down to run through his glorious hair. He brought his hands down along my body to rest at my hips and my right hand rose above my head gripping along the wall behind me without his knowledge. I know his eyes would have fluttered shut at my continuous touch even of just one hand, especially since I was fighting to keep my eyes opened too. I kept my mind on the plan and not his lips, looking above his shoulder with an easy smirk grazing my lips and a silent chuckle as everything was according to plan.
A/N This is my first time writing fanfiction please let me know what you think so far.