You can’t see Illuga from his position behind you, but you feel him running reverent fingers down your spine. “Just relax,” he urges you, a hint of nerves in his voice. “Breathe through your nose. It’ll be easier soon.” 

His words come as a contrast to the sharp tug of your boyfriend Lohen’s hands woven into your hair, pulling you closer with his cock down your throat. The vice captain has never been one to hesitate when he wants something, and there is little in the world that he wants more than you. 

You gasp a little only to choke as he shoves you deeper, nose brushing against the base. “Just shut up and take her already, Captain.” he grunts to the other man. He doesn’t even acknowledge the way your fingers scratch at his thighs, both to push him away and draw him closer. “Drop the nice boy act. I’ve seen the way you look at her when she brings you supplies from the Knights. You’ve wanted her ever since you laid eyes on her.” 

Lohen was usually a jealous man, but he also craved worthy competition. He loved to rile his rivals up. And in the case of Illuga, he wanted to see the promising, oh-so-responsible captain finally snap. “Don’t be so embarrassed. She wants you too,” he smirks as he begins rocking slowly in and out of your mouth. “I know that pussy is soaking. Darling, why don’t you show him?”

He taps your cheek with his palm, too lightly to be a slap but with enough force to urge you on. Obediently, you arch your back. The curve of your ass brushes up against Illuga’s hardness and he gasps. 

Lohen laughs as if he had won a prize. “You want a taste of her? Go ahead and prove you can handle it, Captain.”

Your head is pillowed on his shoulder. He’d told you he wasn’t that comfortable of a bed - a decade of living on the streets has stripped him down to lean muscle and bone - but you didn’t seem to care at the time, and you certainly don’t now. Soft breaths waft across his collarbone, and you murmur something, a hushed mumble born of your dreams, hand sliding up his chest to grab at the blanket covering you both. It’s too small for his frame, leaves his shoulders and the bottom part of his legs uncovered, but Waylon could not give less of a damn when you look so cosy. He leans down, careful not to stir you too much, and nudges what could possibly be called a kiss against your forehead. His face isn’t made for kissing, his sharp teeth jut out too far and his lips barely exist, pulled back against his jaw to reveal a permanently bared snarl, but you’ve never cared about it.

He tries not to care as well, but an involuntary sigh works its way out from his chest. Waylon’s not made for this, being all tender and loving. Every freakish trait shoved onto him by his genes is made for violence, for ripping flesh and cracking bones, for biting down into warm meat. He’s not built for-

His train of thought is interrupted when you let out a minute whimper, face scrunching up into a pained expression. Your grip on the blanket tightens, and it takes him a moment to see that you’re shaking.

“Hey. Hey, wake up cher. S’just a dream,” he says, clawed hand on your shoulder, not shaking just yet. Your nightmare continues, a solitary tear beading in the corner of your eye. Waylon nuzzles his face into your head and lets out a deep rumble, hopefully loud enough to wake you.

It works. Bleary-eyed and trembling, you’re pulled out of your dream by a comforting pressure across your waist and a very concerned boyfriend purring into you.

“Waylon?”

“M’ here, baby. Bad dream?”

“Yeah.”

You sigh, and shift yourself up and over so you’re draped over his broad chest. Your face tucks up into his throat, and he mumbles something inaudible. You’re about to ask when he rolls over, pulls you close against him, and adjusts his arms so they aren’t crushing you. Waylon looks down at you, nuzzles a kiss against your forehead, and then rumbles out a “go back to sleep,”. The weighted blanket of your boyfriend soothes you enough to let your eyes flutter closed, bringing a hand up to trace a pattern on his scaled face. In turn, he ever so slowly lowers his head down to rest on your chest, ever conscious of how huge he is in comparison. He manages to fit into a position where he isn’t squishing you too much, and he blinks sleepily at you.

“I’ll sleep if you do,” you murmur, a smile teasing at your lips.

“Deal.”

"What the-" She started to say as she stumbled back into the person that had grabbed her. The rest of the words died in her throat once she found herself face to face with a boy. Did she know him? He seemed familiar but something about him was odd.

The boy was wearing dark-rimmed glasses and his hazelnut brown hair was gelled back. But she knew that smirk. And she also knew those grey eyes. If it wasn't for the hair colour and the glasses she would swear this was Malfoy! But why did he look like that?

"What happened to your hair?" She asked in confusion.

"Do you like it?" The boy in front of her drawled lazily. It was definitely Malfoy. Nobody else she knew drawled like that. Haley snorted.

"You wish," she retorted. Then she noticed a silver hand mirror in his left hand.

"I knew you were vain but… is it really necessary to carry around a mirror with you?"

Malfoy simply watched her, one eyebrow raised in challenge.

"Here," he said, holding the mirror up right in front of her face. Haley reached for it reflexively and took a look at her reflection. She looked exactly the way she always did. Which was weird because she had done her hair up in a bun this morning. But now it was all over her face like she'd walked out of a hurricane.

"Huh?" She whispered, astonished.

Malfoy chuckled. "You're blushing," he told her. What? She wasn't blushing! Why would she be-?

But he was right. Her reflection in the mirror was turning redder by the second. But how? Why?

She hadn't known it was possible to blush this furiously. Malfoy kept chuckling like this was the funniest thing he had ever seen. Haley glared at him. Did it have something to do with the mirror?

"What kind of mirror is this?" She asked in annoyance.

"A metamorph mirror, of course," he replied matter-of-factly.

"And how does this meta-mirror thing work?"

"Metamorph mirror," Malfoy corrected, "Have you ever wanted to change your hair colour?"

"I…" Of course she had! But why was he asking her that? She looked into the mirror again. Haley knew she had her mother's eyes. She had always wondered what she would look like with her mum's red hair. As soon as the thought entered her mind, the reflection in the mirror changed. The girl in front of her had sleek, red hair that went almost down to her waist. And from the corners of her eyes she could see that her own hair was suddenly long and red as well.

Haley let the mirror fall in surprise.

"Woah!" She exclaimed as she felt the silky strands with her fingers.

"Careful Potter," Malfoy said in an amused tone, picking up the mirror swiftly, "Breaking mirrors is bad luck."

"What kind of mirror is that?" Haley asked another time.

"It's a metamorph mirr-"

"I don't care what it's called! Where did you get it from?"

Malfoy shrugged. "It's an heirloom. The charm lasts for about an hour, I think. I thought it was a good idea. No one will recognise us like this."

It had indeed been a good idea. She had to admit that. She snatched the mirror from the boy's hands and took another look at herself. Maybe she should try different glasses? Or was it possible to get rid of them completely? The girl in the mirror looked back at Haley without glasses. It was a strange sight. And it was even stranger that she was able to see her reflection clearly. If she could make her glasses disappear, perhaps it was also possible to…

"Huh!" She almost let the mirror fall once more, at the sight of her forehead that was now smooth and scarless. "I – I think, that's enough for now," she stammered and pushed the mirror back into Malfoy's hands. She liked her face the way it normally looked. She was used to it. Seeing herself without her trademark glasses and the lightning-shaped scar was odd. Not to mention the red hair.

Malfoy stored the metamorph mirror inside the shoulder bag, he had brought with him. He took in Haley's new features and smirked.

"Interesting," he commented with a chuckle. Haley rolled her eyes. As if he looked any less strange. The only familiar thing were his tailored robes. Did the guy never wear normal clothes?

"Shall we?" Malfoy asked but he didn't wait for an answer. Instead he turned around and started to walk in the direction he had come from. As soon as he realised she wasn't following him, he turned around, raising one eyebrow expectantly.

"This is not a secret plot to kill you," he said dryly. Well, that sounded reassuring.

"Where are we going?" Haley asked, not moving an inch.

"It's a surprise?" Malfoy answered in a tone that implied something like "Are you stupid?"

Haley glared at him. She didn't like that tone at all. And what was he talking about anyway? A surprise?

"What kind of surprise?" She asked suspiciously. She wasn't sure whether she was up for a surprise.

Malfoy ran his hand over his face and sighed. He walked back toward her until he was standing right in front of her.

"Haley," he said quietly, softly, like a caress. Like he was carefully trying out her name on his tongue. This one word was all it took to make her heart stop.

What? Haley couldn't do more than blink stupidly as the boy in front of her took her left hand in his and started to play with her fingers. The unexpected touch made a shiver run up her arm, making her wonder whether it was caused by the touch itself or the coldness of the boy's fingers.

"I barely slept last night," he admitted, his eyes focused on her hand, "I was too worried you might not like what I planned for today. But now… you won't even let me surprise you. Shouldn't you come with me so you can at least properly make fun of it all?"

The last part was obviously meant to sound mocking but as Malfoy lifted his grey eyes, looking into hers cautiously, she was reminded of that boy from almost a year ago who had seemed so hopeful and vulnerable at the same time.

"I…" Haley started to say but she wasn't sure how to continue, "Why… Why did you call me that?"

The Slytherin smirked in the most annoying way. "I could be wrong but I thought that was your name," he drawled smugly.

"Very funny," She replied, not sounding amused at all, "You've never called me 'Haley' before."

"Well, don't get used to it, Potter," Malfoy whispered with an amused grin. Haley rolled her eyes over his childishness. For a moment it seemed as if there was something else he wanted to say but he stayed silent.

"Follow me," he instructed, as he started to walk again, pulling her along with him.

It wasn't too long before they had reached the main road again, with all the different shops left and right. Haley couldn't have imagined an experience more peculiar than this: walking through Hogsmeade with her fellow Hogwarts students all around her, following Draco Malfoy, who was holding onto her hand like he didn't ever want to let go.

But it wasn't as bad as it seemed. Malfoy was pretending to be someone else and she was doing the same. So, technically it wasn't her who was holding Malfoy's hand, which made it all strangely okay. As long as she thought that way she would be fine.

…

DRAGO

"So, you're still not going to tell me where we're going?" Potter questioned impatiently.

She looked up at Draco in a way that seemed so innocently curious that it made him want to squeeze her or jump around in circles or do anything equally ridiculous. It wasn't so much the expression itself that made him almost giddy with joy. It was more the lack of animosity. Or the fact that he was here in Hogsmeade with Haley Potter and he was holding her hand and they were on a bloody date! He barely stopped himself from giggling like a 13-year-old girl. Barely.

As he watched the girl, taking in every detail, from the maroon muggle jacket she was wearing to her dark blue muggle trousers, he wondered why she had chosen to change her hair colour to red. Did she like her Weasley friends that much? Or was it merely a coincidence?

"Hey! I'm talking to you! Are you ignoring me again?" Potter had stopped and was frowning at him now. It was really strange to see her without the glasses and the scar; and with her hair long and red. Although Draco liked her better the way she usually looked she was still beautiful. Her deep green eyes especially.

"Yes," he whispered absently, reaching for a long strand of red hair and freeing it from one of the buttons on her jacket it had caught on.

"'Yes'? Were you even listening?" Potter inquired in annoyance.

"Obviously I wasn't," Draco stated with a sigh, "Why is your hair red?"

"Presumably because I looked into your stupid mirror," she answered oh-so-cleverly.

Oh, he loved it when her fiery nature showed. She seemed like a kitten that was trying to be a lion. It was adorable. Draco had to bite his lips to stop himself from saying something stupid like 'You're so cute I could eat you'. That wouldn't be a very malfoyish thing to say.

What were they talking about again? Right. The colour of Potter's hair.

"My mirror is not stupid," he clarified, "Why red? Don't you like brown or green or… blond?"

Was he being too obvious? She had probably noticed the way he had said blond. Was it so wrong to want to know whether she liked his hair or not? It wasn't like she'd ever tell him that on her own.

Potter looked at him contemplatively like she was pondering something.

"My mum," she murmured finally, "It's what her hair looked like."

Oh. Her mum. Draco hadn't known she had been a redhead. Was Potter somehow related to the Weasleys? No, that wasn't possible. Her mum had been a muggleborn, hadn't she? Had he ever insulted her? He couldn't remember.

"She was a muggleborn," she told him almost in a challenging way. Like she was testing him. Testing his reaction. Well, Draco wasn't stupid.

"I know that..." He said in a neutral tone of voice. It was quiet for a moment. He had no idea what she wanted him to say. Or if he should say anything at all. "Do you um… do you remember her?"

"No," Potter said quietly, looking at the ground, "I was a baby when Voldemort murdered my parents, remember?" She lifted her head to meet his gaze.

Draco looked away. This wasn't exactly what he wanted to talk about on their date. It was actually the last thing he wanted to talk about. The only thing it did was remind him of the fact that Potter and him weren't supposed to go on a date together. They belonged to different worlds. Had different goals and believes. How long could it last? Was this really the right thing? Wasn't it a mistake?

But no, he couldn't think that way. He couldn't start doubting his decision now. It was too late for that. It wasn't wrong. Not with the way it felt to be holding Haley's hand.

It felt so warm in his. So warm and real. It wasn't wrong.

It couldn't be.

…

HALEY

"Is it still far?" Haley asked after they had started to walk again. Malfoy seemed uncharacteristically quiet. Was it because she had mentioned her mum? Did the fact that she had been a muggleborn make him uncomfortable? If so, it wasn't her problem. She wasn't ashamed of who she was or what kind of blood was running through her veins.

"No…" Malfoy answered absently, "We're almost there."

As Haley looked around she noticed that they were leaving the main part of the village. The shops and houses were getting fewer. The silence was starting to grow heavy around them. It felt almost suffocating. Hadn't there been so many questions before? Where had they all gone? She watched the Slytherin's profile contemplatively. It was definitely strange to see the boy without the blond hair and wearing glasses. She could almost forget it was him. If it weren't for the pointy chin… or the grey eyes that reminded her of a clouded sky. What was he so worried about?

"You look like you just found out someone hid your pet snake at the bottom of the Great Lake," she joked, trying for humour.

"Ha ha, Potter. I don't have a pet snake," Malfoy said distractedly.

"That reminds me," Haley remembered, the talk of the Great Lake had triggered her memory, "How did you get Dobby to help you out with the gillyweed? I mean, I know he used to 'work' for your family but… I didn't get the impression he was your biggest fan… so to speak."

"I… can be very convincing," Malfoy offered after a short pause, "Besides, after I told him that I needed the gillyweed to help you, he all but agreed to do anything I asked him to."

Usually when it came to Dobby Haley would believe this right away but.. there was something in the way Malfoy was avoiding her gaze that seemed suspicious.

"Really?" She asked doubtfully.

Malfoy nodded hastily, which didn't stop the faint pink colour from spreading all over his cheeks.

Haley grinned smugly. "Well then, I'm sure you won't mind if I ask him about it myself."

"No! You can't!" Malfoy protested. The suggestion seemed to startle him so much that he even let go of her hand.

"Why not?" She asked innocently.

"That's because – because he is surely terribly busy at the moment! And – and it doesn't matter much anyway – hey, look, isn't that the place we were looking for?"

It was unbelievable how quickly Malfoy made up one excuse after another. It was also a tiny bit cute but that wouldn't stop her from getting the whole story from Dobby later on.

They stopped in front of a green patch of grass that was surrounded by tall trees. Around them the red, orange and yellow leafs were dancing, caught in the light autumn breeze that was blowing softly.

It looked awfully cosy. There even was a picnic blanket in the middle of it! It was green and grey chequered. Colours that suited a true Slytherin. Did Malfoy prepare this? Haley looked at him in surprise. But the Slytherin seemed to be busy doing something different, namely looking for something in his bag.

"There!" He exclaimed, as he pulled something out of his bag that looked suspiciously like an umbrella.

"What do you need an umbrella for? It doesn't look like it's going to rain any time soon," Haley said. The weather was actually rather nice. It was warm enough to take off her jacket. Underneath she was wearing a light blue, long-sleeved shirt.

"Umbrella," the boy repeated with a snort and walked toward the picnic blanket. He opened the umbrella – or whatever it was – and leaned it against one of the trees near the blanket.

"What are you waiting for?" Malfoy asked, watching her expectantly, "A special invitation?"

He smirked lazily. It looked just like he was back to his normal arrogant self. What a shame.

Haley thought about ignoring him and staying where she was just to spite him but… it wasn't really what she wanted to do. She walked the few steps over toward the blanket and sat down on it as far away from the Slytherin as possible.

"Let me guess. Another heirloom?" She asked with a nod toward the umbrella.

"Not bad, Potter," Malfoy said and grinned at her amusedly, "Come here, I'll show you how it works." He held out his hand in invitation and the sun made his eyes shine mirthfully. She noticed that his fake glasses were gone and his hair was starting to turn blond again.

She crawled over to him slowly – she didn't want to seem too eager – and glanced at the umbrella in curiosity. What kind of magic trick was hidden inside it?

Malfoy didn't wait for any more encouragement. "It's a time machine," he told her, in a rather casual tone. Like time machines were the most normal thing in the world.

Haley squinted her eyes at the boy in disbelief. "Do you expect me to believe that?" She asked sceptically. What did he take her for?

Malfoy didn't seem discouraged. "Believe what you want to but," he smirked in a superior way, "What do I get, if I'm right?"

What the hell? There was no way she would play into that. Not while there was this mischievous glint in his eyes. She cleared her throat, suddenly feeling nervous.

"Fine. Show me what that magic umbrella can do," she muttered, ignoring the triumphant grin on the boy's face.

"That curious, are we?" He asked smugly. Haley rolled her eyes in annoyance. Couldn't he simply get on with it?

"So… you have to press this button," Malfoy explained, while pressing a round silver button above the handle of the umbrella, "And then it records the… essence of the people that sit underneath it."

"Like a photograph? Or a memory?" Haley asked, still wondering where this was going.

"You could say that," Malfoy confirmed. He raised his eyebrows expectantly like he was waiting for her to understand. But what was so great about a magic umbrella that recorded memories?

"And…?" Haley prodded, feeling extremely stupid.

"And…" he repeated impatiently, "Once you're done with the recording you press the button again and seal the memory with a password." He seemed really excited for some reason.

"I still don't see how that makes it a time machine though," the Gryffindor dead-panned.

"It's actually really easy, Potter," he said in an almost patronising way, "The next time you sit under the umbrella, you only need to say the right password and it will take you right back to the memory it recorded beforehand."

"Like a time machine," Haley stated, she wasn't sure whether she completely understood how the magical umbrella was supposed to work.

"Exactly."

"Sounds a bit like an Invisibility Cloak," she added thoughtfully.

"Except it doesn't turn people invisible but takes them back in time."

"I don't see the big difference. Basically people can't see you anymore, right?"

"Right."

"Cool. And why did you bring it?"

All of the confidence seemed to leave the Slytherin at her question.

"Well… I thought, if we… in case we went on another…" His eyes were big and slightly uncertain, like he was looking for something in her face he doubted was actually there. Haley stared back cluelessly.

Malfoy shook his head and looked away. "Never mind," he muttered.

Perhaps… Had he been trying to say 'in case we went on another... date'? Haley felt her face grow hot. This wasn't… She didn't know what she thought about the idea of another… date. Wasn't it too early to even think about? She hadn't even acknowledged this as a date yet.

"I…" She started to say but Malfoy interrupted her.

"You probably haven't had lunch yet, right?" The boy asked but he didn't wait for an answer.

Instead he reached into his bag and retrieved a wooden box from it that looked big enough to comfortably fit two grown cats. He placed the box between them and opened it. Inside, there were different kinds of sandwiches, pastries – she even spotted treacle tarts! – and down below, was that an actual teapot? With teacups? It looked terribly delicious.

"I can't tell whether you're impressed or trying to catch flies," Malfoy disrupted her staring, sounding annoyingly amused. She closed her mouth, which had apparently been hanging open.

"I'm… not hungry," Haley whispered, still in awe over the amount of food he had brought.

"It's not poisoned, I swear," Malfoy informed her, chuckling.

"I didn't think it was," Haley answered, rolling her eyes, "Knowing you, you probably made a house elf prepare this."

"No, I didn't," he said, unconvincingly.

"You totally did," Haley exclaimed, laughing out loud over the realisation. It was kind of amusing.

"Are you going to eat something or not?" The boy replied, in an attempt to change the topic.

She didn't really have an appetite but it all looked so good. She would at least try one of the treacle tarts. Even if she tried she couldn't say no to these. There were even plates next to the teacups. Haley reached for her favourite treat and placed it on top of a plate, while Malfoy filled the teacups with a steaming liquid from the teapot.

"You brought tea?" She asked, with a raised eyebrow. She didn't know what else she should have expected. Butterbeer? Firewhiskey? Wine? Neither of those seemed more likely. But tea was so…tame, so… ordinary.

"Obviously," the Slytherin drawled, "You don't like tea?"

"Of course I like tea. It's just… I don't know… unexpected," she replied.

Malfoy chuckled softly. "What did you expect? Firewhiskey? Dragonwine? Blood?" He placed one cup of tea in front of her. "Every respectable wizard drinks tea."

With three spoons of sugar in Malfoy's case. Haley grinned softly, as she absently took a bite from her treacle tart. Treacle tarts were usually really sweet but she imagined Malfoy's tea was even sweeter. By now he was at his fifth spoon of sugar! Did he have a sweet tooth? The thought was strangely endearing. Either that or he didn't realise how much sugar he was spooning into his cup. Haley felt herself grin as the boy lifted his cup to his mouth and took a sip. It didn't seem like he was surprised at the taste.

Haley chuckled. She couldn't help it.

"What's so funny?" Malfoy asked suspiciously, "Is there something on my face?"

Still grinning, she shook her head. The boy took another sip of his sugar tea and watched her warily.

He set down his cup and leaned closer. "Why are you grinning like that?" He asked, sounding irritated.

"It's nothing," she whispered, suddenly aware of how close their faces were. It seemed like Malfoy noticed it as well. His eyes were wandering over her face like he was trying to commit each little detail to memory.

"It's back," he breathed lowly, gazing at something on her forehead. Was he talking about her scar? Haley didn't really like people staring at her scar. She cleared her throat nervously and looked down at her hands. Malfoy seemed to sense her discomfort and leaned back on his hands.

She hadn't known he was capable of behaving in such a considerate way. He seemed so… human. Was this the real Malfoy? Or was he showing her one of his masks again? This was so confusing.

...

DRACO

Why was Potter staring at him like this? If only he knew what she was thinking. Was this good staring? As in, she couldn't help but stare at his extraordinarily handsome face? Or was it bad staring, as in, she regretted all of this and was trying to think of a way to end it as soon as possible? It couldn't be that, could it? He was going to go insane at this rate!

Potter was chewing on her cherry red lips. And no, now Draco was thinking about her lips again. Was it too soon to kiss her? Would she punch him if he leaned over and did just that? Merlin's beard, he would just do it! He would just lean in, close his eyes and-

"Can you tell me why…" Potter began, disrupting his plan, "why you were this horrible to me a few weeks back?"

Draco sighed. She wanted to talk about that now? "Can't we talk about this another time?" He asked in a hopeful tone.

"No," she said decidedly. He should have known better than to argue with her.

"It's just," the girl continued, "One day you're kind of nice and the next it's as if you despise me."

She shrugged. "Is it always going to be like this?"

Draco shook his head hastily.

"Everything I did for you last year… was real. But then after everything that happened during the Third Task and afterwards… I didn't know what was right anymore. I thought it was best to forget about... the way I felt… and just… go back to the way we were before. Enemies."

It was hard saying all of this out loud. Some of it Draco had talked to Lovegood about but… well Lovegood was not Potter. It didn't feel like every word was important when he looked into her blue eyes. But that was what it was like when he was met with Haley's sparkling green eyes that were kind of making him a little crazy.

"What… changed your mind?" She asked. Draco noticed that her cheeks were slightly pink. When had it become so hot around them? He had to take a deep breath. She was definitely driving him crazy. More than just a little bit.

She watched him in a curious way. Oh right, she had asked him a question.

"My mind?" He repeated stupidly.

"Yes… What changed it? Why did you – I mean… all of this, really… Why?" She gestured toward the picnic blanket and the food and the whole situation in general.

Why? Wasn't it obvious? But then Draco realised that he had never actually told her how he felt about her. Not in words anyway. He didn't even know for sure what it was he felt. It was definitely more than a fleeting crush. A mere crush wouldn't have been that persistent, right? Just sitting here together with her in the autumn sun made him feel all tingly inside. Made a thrill of excitement run through his body. But what did it even mean? And how was he going to relay those feelings in the right way? He cleared his throat nervously and started to play around with his empty teacup. It was easier to find the words when he wasn't looking at Potter.

"I tried… not to think about you but… somehow you were always there. And do you know how annoying it is that you're always getting yourself into trouble?"

He gave a short chuckle. Then he looked up at her and met her curious eyes.

"I didn't want to watch you fight your battle with Umbridge alone. I wanted to shake you because you were being so stupid."

Potter glared at him. Well… maybe it hadn't been the right moment to say that. He cleared his throat again.

"Um… what I meant to say is… I didn't want to just watch uselessly anymore. And I was certainly not going to sit around while you went on a date with that dull Hufflepuff."

Draco shouldn't have mentioned the Hufflepuff. A frown was forming on Potter's face. It was funny how much she resembled her usual self in that moment. Watching him suspiciously. Her glasses slightly askew due to her scrunched up nose. And her hair was short again and back to its raven colour. The top half of it was tied with a green hair tie and part of her fringe was hiding the lightning-shaped scar. Draco couldn't help but grin as he waited for her response.

…

HALEY

This was the second time Malfoy had mentioned "the Hufflepuff". The first time had been on Thursday inside that empty classroom. How did he know about Justin asking her out?

"How do you know about Justin anyway? You spied on me again, didn't you?" She asked warily.

Her accusing tone seemed to disconcert him. "So? What if I did?" He asked defensively in return.

"Well, I don't like people following me around and spying on me." She didn't know why she couldn't just let this go. Maybe it was because everything else the Slytherin had said was so difficult to make sense of.

"Don't act so surprised, Potter," Malfoy said darkly, "You wouldn't expect anything different from a sneaky, evil Slytherin, would you? And a Malfoy at that."

"That's not what I said," Haley argued hotly.

"But it's what you thought! It's what you see when you look at me! I just – Didn't you listen to what I just told you at all?" He asked, sounding upset. His grey eyes were like a stormy sea, as they bored into her own. She felt so helpless all of a sudden. She didn't understand how their conversation had escalated into a fight so quickly. It was hard enough to take in everything Malfoy had told her. Because in the end he hadn't said much at all. Couldn't he have been clearer with his words?

The hard expression on his face softened visibly. "Have you ever…" He started to whisper, "ever seen me as a boy? Without the name and the house rivalry attached to it?"

Haley thought about his words for a moment. But then the boy lifted his left hand toward her face and stroked her cheek gently. It was impossible to form a complex thought after that.

"Can't you… try to do that?" He asked softly, never looking away from her eyes.

"For five years… I have... had this picture of you in my mind... That won't magically change over night," Haley heard herself whisper almost soundlessly.

For some reason Malfoy smirked at that. Then his eyes strayed down to her lips for a moment. Haley swallowed nervously as she realised that he had somehow got incredibly close to her. He stroked his thumb over her lower lip slowly, his touch incredibly soft.

"Why don't you let me... adjust the picture for you then?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

She couldn't even begin to think up a clever reply to that because her vision was filled with nothing but his grey eyes. The emotion in them was so intense that for a second she thought he was going to attack her. But to her surprise the attack turned out to be incredibly soft. It came in the form of a kiss.

She should have seen it coming. But at the same time, how could she have known? Before she could decide whether she liked the kiss or not it was already over.

Malfoy jumped away like he had been burned, hissing lowly.

Huh? A quick glance told her that he had indeed been burned by something. His right hand was soaked with a dark liquid and the teacup that Haley hadn't touched was upside down next to it. The Slytherin glared at the cup like it had personally offended him and wiped his hand on the blanket.

Haley took a moment to take in the scene before her. It seemed so surreal and downright ridiculous that she couldn't help but break into hysterical laughter. Malfoy turned his glaring eyes toward her. Maybe it wasn't the nicest thing to laugh at him after he had kissed her. But she couldn't help it. The situation was just too funny.

"Are you… laughing at me?" The boy inquired, still glaring at her. Haley just shrugged, trying to stop herself from laughing. But that was easier thought than done.

"Do I look that funny to you?" He growled, as he got into her personal space, his nose almost touching her own. Her laughter died down almost instantly, her breath catching inside her throat. For a second she saw a mischievous glint light up in the boy's eyes. Then it was gone.

This time Haley wasn't surprised by the kiss. Just as she had closed her eyes she felt a sharp pain in her lower lip. He'd bitten her! That jerk! It was probably because she had laughed at him.

Haley pushed him away irritatedly.

"What was that?" She asked in bewilderment. Was her lip bleeding? It didn't seem that way…

Malfoy chuckled. "Look, who doesn't know what a kiss is," he said mockingly.

"I know what a kiss is," she replied defiantly, "I've done lots of kissing, just so you know."

"Really," Malfoy scoffed, "Who did you kiss?"

"I don't have to tell you that," she deflected.

"Are sure you're not just saying that because there is nothing to tell?" He asked. From the corners of her eyes she saw that his hand was slowly crawling over to where hers was resting on the blanket. She thought about pulling her hand further away just to annoy him.

"You're an expert in kissing, then?" Haley asked playfully, with one eyebrow raised.

Malfoy shrugged nonchalantly. "You know… a respectable wizard doesn't kiss and tell," he replied, grinning smugly.

Haley snorted. "Nice try," she said, "I almost believed you."

The Slytherin squinted his eyes at her disbelievingly, "Did you just imply I was lying?"

"Maybe," she replied offhandedly.

"That's funny. Clearly you're the one who's lying," he insinuated, as he reached her hand and covered it with his own. She noticed that it wasn't as cold as it had been before. It was probably due to the 'tea accident'.

"No, I'm not," she answered back stubbornly, trying to pull her hand away but he wouldn't let her.

"Yes, you are," he almost sang. She had never seen him in such a cheerful mood before. His fingers were gently stroking over the skin of her hand. It tickled. She suppressed a grin.

"No, I'm not," she repeated, wondering how long this was going to go on for.

"Yes," Malfoy leaned closer, making her lean further back in return, "You are."

Haley wasn't going to let him win this little competition. Her upper body was mostly resting on her fore arms. If she leaned back any further she would be lying down on her back.

"No, I'm not."

"So stubborn," he tsked, "just admit it already." He was on his side next to her now, slightly leaning over her with one hand still holding hers and the other resting next to her face. His face only inches above her own.

"You admit it first," Haley whispered, not caring the slightest that she had forgotten what they were arguing about.

Malfoy shook his head. "That's not going to happen," he whispered. She got the feeling that he, too, didn't know what they had been arguing about in the first place. His eyes never left hers and the sheer childlike delight that was reflected in them was positively disarming.

It was enough to make her give up the battle and let her body sink to the ground completely.

"You always have to have the last word, don't you?" She asked almost dazedly. She felt so weak all of a sudden.

He raised the hand that wasn't holding hers to her face and slowly ran a finger from her temple to the corner of her mouth. He let it rest there for a second, then he cupped her cheek in his hand.

Haley almost forgot to breathe.

"Yes," Malfoy said, grinning amusedly, "I do."

She was saved from coming up with a response by a pair of lips that covered her own gently.

…

This was not what Haley had thought her first real kiss was going to be like. Whatever she had expected it was certainly not this: Spread out on a picnic blanket with Draco Malfoy. Well, the picnic blanket was not the unusual part. It was a rather comfortable picnic blanket.

But she was being kissed by Draco Malfoy. Draco Malfoy was kissing her. And the most terrifying thing was that… it didn't feel unpleasant. Not in the slightest. It felt… nice. And also really soft because his lips were as soft as a freaking feather. Did he use lip balm or something? She wouldn't be surprised about that. It was also soft because his lips were moving over hers so gently. Hesitantly almost, like he was afraid of something. But what could he be afraid of? Kissing wasn't dangerous, was it?

It wasn't long before he pulled away. Haley opened her eyes to find Malfoy's gazing down at her already. He licked his lips that were unusually red and there was a look of wonder in his eyes. He wasn't even blinking. Was something wrong? Haley frowned slightly, opening her mouth to ask what was wrong but she didn't get that far. Whatever spell the boy had been under seemed to be broken, seeing as Malfoy rubbed his thumb over her cheek and leaned down to kiss her again.

His lips were still gentle but something was different about the way he kissed her. The hesitancy from before was mostly gone now. It felt more confident somehow. The fingers of his right hand were interlaced with her own and he angled his head to the side so he was able to reach her lips better. It was strange how little it bothered her that her glasses were sort of piercing the side of her face or that her hair tie was pressed against the back of her head in an uncomfortable way.

All of that was not important because something else was demanding her attention. It wasn't something blatantly obvious or physical even.

It was like Malfoy was telling her something through the kiss. No words. More like little impressions of what he was feeling. It was impossible to discern what each of those impressions meant. But overall there was one feeling that stood out among the others. Something warm and affectionate. It felt so raw, so honest that it hit her with the force of an oncoming mountain troll. It was all for her. The way he sometimes looked at her, the way he kissed her in this very moment – that was him. Without any masks. It was real. It had to be. Haley didn't think it was possible to pretend to feel something like this. It was a sobering realisation:

Malfoy… He seemed to genuinely care… about her. Unfortunately this realisation raised another question: How did she feel about him?

He’s standing in the middle of Hargrove's trophy room, gripping his sword tightly. The Meta's armor is too big for him, tailored for a bulky frame. The teal color is comforting, but it feels unnatural, wearing the suit of a dead man. His alien plasma sword is glowing a shining white, and looking at it for longer than a second makes his eyes burn.

Sparks are flying from the door as Hargrove's soldiers begin to cut it open, and muffled shouting comes from behind the heavy metal door.

Epsilon hovers over his shoulder, pale sky-blue armor glinting in the harsh false light. Tucker glances at him, a grim smile on his face. He knows how this ends. He’s lived it more times than he can count.

"See you on the other side, Church," Tucker says to him.

He blinks, and Church is gone. It's not that he's retreated into his armor; his presence has faded from Tucker’s head. His mind feels hollow and empty, and even though he knows how it feels, knows what to expect, it’s never prepared him for the reality of losing his friend in the blink of an eye.

(It’s happening again.

What loop are we on?

I don’t know.)

Hargrove’s soldiers burst through the door. Tucker steels himself, lifting his sword in preparation.

(They come from the left.

Watch your back.)

A soldier fires a burst of gunfire, and the armor actives, a bubble shield forming around him. He stabs through it, and hits the soldier in the gut, all the force of the Meta’s strength enhancement and of his rage and sorrow and fear pushed into the blow.

The guard retreats, and another takes his place. Tucker stumbles sideways, into another one of Hargrove’s forces. He hasn’t memorized where each soldier is, and sometimes they catch him by surprise. He always manages to mess something up, no matter how hard he tries not to.

A glowing bolt of energy hits his armor, and the armor’s bubble- and over-shields short-circuit, leaving him defenseless. His active camouflage turns on, distorting his armor’s colors until they match the area behind him. The soldier looks around in confusion, shooting blind.

(We can do this.

Maybe this time, we can save them all.)

He dodges shot after shot, hearing gunfire and shouts ringing in his ears. He pushes back the stream of panicked thoughts that bombard his mind and focuses on the fight, focuses on eliminating the threat, focuses on the fact that this is easy, he can do this.

He’s so focused on what’s in front of him that he doesn’t pay attention to what’s behind. A whimper of pain meets his ears and he whips around, to see Caboose scrambling backwards from a soldier in dented and scratched armor.

Tucker dashes forward, cutting through lines of enemies to reach the blue soldier. He lowers the sword and helps Caboose up, forgetting to check for enemies around him. There’s a sharp cry, and he sees an alien sword protruding from his chest, cutting jagged lines through his armor. As his vision dims, he sinks to the floor, eyes burning.

(So this is how it ends, this time.

I don’t think it’ll ever end.)

His sight goes a stark white, and he cries out in agony, a searing heat tearing through him. He clutches his chest, gritting his teeth as the world dissolves around him.

*

When he opens his eyes again, slowly, painfully, he’s right back where he started. In Hargrove’s trophy room, Epsilon hovering above his shoulder.

“Hey, uh, I just want you guys to know that, out of everyone I've ever met... I hate you all the least.” Epsilon tells them.

(Yeah, well, it’s a little late for that now, isn’t it.)

Tucker closes his eyes, focusing on the burning red behind his eyelids. “See you, Church.”

He opens them, and Epsilon is gone.

It’s worse than dying, watching Church fragment himself, over and over again. Hargrove’s soldiers don’t give him enough time to stop, to take a breath, to rest. To grieve. They just attack and attack and attack and soon there’s nothing left but ashes and blood and a wisp of a memory, disappearing as the world fades away.

(He tried to tell them, once, about the loops. They didn’t believe him.)

The battle goes quicker, this time. He’s down on the floor, a bullet through his shoulder, and blood staining his teal armor. Caboose is crouched over him, and he smiles weakly at the cobalt soldier.

“It’s okay,” Tucker tells him softly, as Wyoming’s enhancement flares up around him. “It’ll all just-”

*

“-reset,” he finishes quietly.

Epsilon turns towards him, looking concerned. “Tucker, you okay?”

Shoyo Hinata is sweet. He’s always been sweet but with you, he’s positively saccharine. Running up to you to sweep you into hugs after a game, muscular biceps squeezing around your waist, laughing innocently as if your breasts aren’t pressed against his chest. Helping carry the crates full of water bottles back to the bus during away games, positively preening as you praise him for his strength. Offering to teach you how to receive, sliding up against your ass from the back as he corrects your form. 

Hinata is also sweet as he tells you how good you look in your uniform skirt, those pretty sunset-brown eyes fixed on the curve of your exposed thighs as you bend over to retrieve a loose ball on the court. His tongue pokes out the side of his mouth as he prays he’s lucky enough to catch a glimpse of your panties.

Tobio Kageyama’s never been one to listen well, except when it comes to you. He’ll do anything you say, whether it’s tidying up the gym or studying so that he isn’t banned from the next away game, just as long as you say his name. You can practically see the shiver run up his spine when it falls from your pretty pink lips, cock hardening painfully in his gym shorts and straining against the thin fabric. He’s positively shameless about it too, begging you to call him by his first name because you’re friends, and that’s what friends call each other, right? 

It’s over for him the moment he hears you call him Tobio– He has to excuse himself to the bathroom to clean up the mess in his boxers. Still, it doesn’t stop him from fisting his sensitive, overstimulated cock right there in the stall, whimpering out loud from the memory the shape of your lips around his name. 

Kei Tsukishima hates being jealous, because it would mean admitting that someone else has something that he really, truly wants. And really, he’s not jealous. He doesn’t even like you! It’s obvious in the way he’ll never look you in the eye when you visit the gym, making up something or other as an excuse when Yamaguchi invites him out to dinner with the two of you. He’ll walk home on his own, thank you very much, but not before doubling back to the clubroom, eyes flickering back and forth surreptitiously as he unlocks the room. 

He knows what you and Tadashi get up to when you think the team’s gone home for the night, up against the shelving and the desks, and he also knows where you swap out your extra pair of panties for when the ones you wear are too ruined by his best friend’s cum to wear home. Digging around in the lockers, he pulls out the freshly-stained garment, still damp from your arousal and Tadashi’s own essence. Too impatient to wait until he gets home, Tsukki presses them harshly against his nose, inhaling the mixture of sweat and yours and his best friend’s love, letting out a deep groan. Thank gods he’s often responsible for the clubroom key after club hours are over. 

Tadashi Yamaguchi isn’t the bright-eyed naive first-year he was when he first came to Karasuno. He’s grown a considerable amount in both brains and brawn, and it shows in the way he runs the team– both visible and invisible. On the court, he’s jovial and supportive, teaching his juniors how to improve their skills and rallying them when game time begins. And off the court, he isn’t opposed to giving the other third-years crumbs of you if it bolster their team spirit. So long as he’s the only one who gets to hear you crying out as he presses you into the mattress, slurping noisily as he eats you out for the third time that night. 

He soothes you with inaudible praises as he spreads your pretty pussy, wrapping his lips tightly around your clit and sucking it into his mouth. The raw little bud must be throbbing so much right now, so just let him soothe it with his tongue even as you cry out “‘s too much, Yama, I’m gonna squirt!” You’re his pretty girl– he knows you can take it. Just give him a couple more minutes between your legs and he’ll be ready for the main course. Then you’ll get to enjoy cockhead giving your pretty cervix kisses right up until the moment he floods your womb. 

Of course, Captain Tadashi is a generous man, so he makes a deal with himself. He’ll snap a picture as his cum leaks out between your thighs and send it to Hinata, Kageyama, and Tsukishima if they make it to nationals this year.