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Chapter Text

He could smell her.

Even multiple train cars away, he could smell her. Except, Draco didn’t know who she was. He ignored his natural instincts to pant like a dog and follow the scent to the omega in the beginning stages of heat. Instead he willed himself to rub his knuckles against the rough wood of the table in front of him.

An omega was unheard of in this century. After the wizarding war, when the population became unbearably low, omegas were sought to replenish it. Each omega-born child came with compensation to the parents who bred it. This, in turn, made omegas a highly sought after money grab.

On an omega’s 18th birthday, wealthy men would line up to offer dowries in exchange for what can only be described as a sex slave. Lower-class families were most vulnerable. Desperate for the money, they would agree and send their daughters off to be stuck in subspace forever; never truly being able to say no to their alpha.

The ever-fertile omegas would breed quickly. Even against their natural instinct to nest and reproduce with their alpha, the omegas turned to slaughtering their female offspring for fear of them being subjected to the same life. The male babies were spared, meaning the wizarding world was teeming with alphas with no omegas to be with.

Alphas had to turn to beta females instead. Draco’s father always told him, “you can love a beta, you can fuck a beta, but you can never truly be with a beta like you can with an omega”.

As a child, Draco never understood. His father, an alpha, and his mother, a beta, seemed to get along perfectly fine. His first rut was when he truly grasped his father’s sentiment.

He just about fucked his way around Hogwarts with any girl he could. With his looks, intelligence, and charm; that was a very long list.

This granted him a few things; the title of a sex god, the rumors of his package, and the unavoidable emptiness that came with fucking a beta.

Pansy was his first real girlfriend. He would venture to say he did love her, in a way. In the extent an alpha could love a beta. But it wasn’t enough, for either of them. His ruts would make him feral, animalistic. He would bite, bruise, spank, and fuck Pansy into the mattress. While this was exciting for her at first, after a while his ruts became too much for her. Too intense. The subsequent breakup was mutual.

Across the table, Blaise Zabini made a show of sniffing the air.

“Unmistakable. A bitch in heat. Merlin, you read about it… but this is something else entirely.” Blaise shook his head sullenly, “Once her heat starts for real, it’ll be a miracle she survives the first day without being bitten. Too many fucking alphas here and only one of her. Poor girl, she probably doesn’t even know.”

---------------------------------------------------

Hermione didn’t even know what was happening. From the moment she stepped through the platform barrier, Ron had been acting like it hurt to even be next to her. In fact, many of the older Hogwarts boys began to stare at her like a freshly carved roast.

Harry looked just as confused as she did.

“Er.. Hermione, maybe let’s get you inside.” Harry said, ushering her into a train car.

Ron followed begrudgingly. Stepping into a vacant train car, much like the one they occupied their first year, Hermione began to fiddle with her shirt. Even for a September morning, the heat in the cart was unbearable. Though, she noticed, Harry didn’t seem affected by this sudden shift of temperature at all.

Sparing a quick glance over at Ron, she noticed he looked pained and red in the face.

Is he holding his breath?

Hermione reached out to touch him, “Ron what’s-”

As her fingertips grazed the fabric on his shoulder, he let out an animalistic growl. She snatched her hand away and stared at him wide eyed. Ron’s veins in his temple were throbbing noticeably as he ran from the cart.

Hermione and Harry shared a look of disbelief.

“Have I done something? Did he mention anything before I got there?”

Harry’s mouth gaped open and his brows were furrowed, “No… He was excited to see you… Maybe he’s not feeling well. I’ll go check on him.”

With that, Harry shuffled through the door and started his search for the red head. Leaving Hermione in the cart. Alone.

Hermione pulled out a book, Ancient Ruins of The Magical Sort and began to read. It felt that much time had passed since her friend’s departure. So much time in fact, she began to reread the same line over and over as her eyes drifted shut.
She was awoken by the loud sound of the train cart door opening. Finally, Hermione thought and she began to straighten herself out.

“Ron I’m sorry if- Oh!”

It was not Ron or Harry at the entrance, but a boy she only recognized by appearance.

Conrad? Cormack?

“Hello, sweets,” Hermione guessed he didn’t remember her name either, “My name is Cormac. Cormac McLaggen.”

Hermione smiled politely. As opposed to Ron, Cormac was breathing heavily. As if he was gulping in as much of her air as possible.

“Hello, Cormac.. Is there something I can assist you with?”

He ruffled the blonde curls at the top of his head. “Actually, I’ve come to assist you… with your problem.”

“My problem? What’s my-”

Before she could finish, he was on her. His calloused hands grabbed under her skirt, his mouth open on her lips while hers were pressed tightly together refusing access. She was writhing under him to escape, but it only seemed to egg him on more. The hand under her skirt moved to push aside her panties as tears formed in her eyes.

Ron.. Harry...Someone… please come…

As if from heaven, a flash of light emitted from behind Cormac’s back.

“Stupify.”

Cormac’s body tensed and slid off Hermione, dropping to a thud on the ground. Hermione glanced up at her savior and was met with familiar blonde hair.

Chapter Text

Daphne Greengrass huffed as she dragged Cormac by his feet out of the car. Stepping back in, she slammed the door shut and locked it silently with her wand. 

“Greengrass.. Daphne.. Thank you so much. I don’t know what I would have done if-” Hermione was cut off, tears stinging her eyes.

“Are you insane, Granger?” Although it was a question, it felt more like a statement. “Coming to Hogwarts during your heat. You’re lucky he didn’t bite you for Merlin’s sake. That’s not something I can save you from.”

“My.. what?”

Daphne’s face softened, but only a bit. “You don’t know, do you?”

“Know what? What am I supposed to know?” Her words were sobs. Daphne could tell it was very hard for the know-it-all to… not know it all. 

She sighed, “Listen, I’m going to tell you. Okay? Just.. stop crying. It’s making me feel weird.”

Hermione nodded, wiping the the hot tears from her face. She gestured with her hands for Daphne to continue. She started from the beginning, with the slavery and the infanticides moving forward into present day. 

 “I’m a what?”

 “An omega, Granger.”

 “But.. I’m just… Hermione..”

 “Well “Just Hermione” let me ask you this. You stepped on that platform and the men are acting weird, yeah? You keep pulling at your sleeves so I know you’re hot. Merlin, I only say you just before summer and you’re spilling over your bra. Really...you didn’t think something was off?”

 Everything was connecting in her mind. Ron, Cormac, how Harry didn’t notice how hot it was... but there was something else.

 “Muggleborns can be omegas?”

 Daphne looked thoughtful for a second, “I never thought so. There has to be some strong magic to form an omega. Usually they can only come from an omega themselves. Are you sure your parents aren’t magical at all?”

“They never made it seem so..”

 “Could you ask them? It would certainly clear this up. And, er, no offense. But you really should speak to your mum about the birds and the bees. I’m not really…” She waved her arms around in an unsure motion. 

 “I… obliviated them. Just before the war. Even if I asked, they wouldn’t know who I was.”

 Daphne nodded, looking thoughtful for a second.

 “When we get to Hogwarts we need to get you somewhere safe to ride out your heat. It’ll be tough without an alpha. But you can’t trust any of your blokes to assist you without making their claim. I saw Weasley just a few carts down. Poor fellow looked ready to vomit. Can’t have that fucker, well, fucking you.”

 Hermione scrunched up her nose, “I couldn’t do it with Ron anyway. He’s like my brother.”

 “Let’s just get you through this one. I’m going to go alert the headmistress of your predicament. When I leave, I want you to lock this door and don’t let anyone in except for me or the headmistress. Got it?” She moved to leave, but Hermione grabbed her hand.

 “Daphne, thank you.. I can’t… I don’t…” Daphne put her hand on top of Hermione’s. 

 “You don’t have to say anything.” She turned to leave once more.

 “Daphne… how did you know? How did you find me?”

 Daphne turned her head just so she could catch Hermione out of the corner of her eye.

 “I could smell you.”

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Daphne all but fell into the vacant spot next to Draco. 

 “I found her.”

 Draco glanced over unsure. Upon seeing the seriousness of her face, her turned to face her completely. 

 “Who is it?”

 Daphne snorted, “Granger, if you can believe it. She had no idea.

Blaise adjusted his position on his seat, “Now what? It’s a battle for the only omega in the entire world?”

 Daphne narrowed her eyes, “She’s still a person. Fucking Merlin, this is how it all got started in the first place.”

 Draco looked over at his friend. Daphne was thrilled when she started to present. But, her scent glands never formed.Draco recalled trying to comfort her as her time to present ended.

“I’m not an omega, Draco, I never was,” she sobbed, clinging to him. “Just a gamma. A stupid, useless, gamma.”

Draco understood her upset. Daphne had been in love with him, well, forever. When Draco began his ruts and swore off all betas; it hurt Daphne deeply. So, when she felt as though she was presenting it was a blessing in her mind. Now all she had was faux heats with no alpha to get her through them.

“... My heats are bad and they’re not even real. I can make myself cum and it makes it bearable. But, she’s not going to be able to cope with the rest of her heats without an alpha.”

“Are you suggesting one of us offer ourselves to her?” Blaise raised an eyebrow, “Because I can’t promise I won’t bite her given the chance.”

 “That’s why I’m not suggesting it to you.” 

 Daphne shot a quick look to Draco. Out of all the alphas she knew, he had the best temperament. At least she could be confident Draco wouldn’t claim her in the heat of the moment. 

 “Daph-” 

 She held up a hand, “I know what I am. And it’s not what you want. It’s not like I’m asking you to fall in love and claim her. I’m asking you to do for her what you offered to do for me.”

 Draco looked out the window of the train as Hogwarts came into sight, “She’d never let me near her.”

 “Wait until she sees what heat is like.”

Chapter Text

Hermione wrung her hands together. The rest of the ride to Hogwarts she was worried the locking charm on the door wouldn’t hold the sheer number of men that turned up to it. They all looked furious at the barrier between them and the omega waiting to be claimed. 

Hermione wanted to cry. Her whole life she was independent. Never having any real relationship aside from Viktor Krum. And that had been just a few shared kisses. She told herself she was always too busy, too independent, too… anything to be in a relationship. But really, she was just too plain. 

Boys didn’t give her a second look unless they needed help with their homework. Her bushy hair and mud-brown eyes weren’t anything to write home about; she knew. The most action she had from boys was her interactions with Malfoy. 

For a moment she scoffed at the idea. If she considered his constant torment “action”, she was living a sad life. But then her mind shifted to something her mother used to always say about bullies. 

“ Maybe he likes you,” Mrs. Granger said, pulling the unruly hair from her daughters face. “Boys pick on girls they don’t like when they want to talk to you but have nothing to say.”

Hermione always laughed at the idea of it, but looking back; he was always there. And his insults had never been especially cruel to her. Yes, “mudblood” here or there. But Harry and Ron got the brunt of it. 

She would also find him staring at her. A lot. At the time she brushed it off, he’s just thinking of more insults. But now… Hermione shook her head. 

As if Malfoy would help me with this, I’d probably soil his pure body.

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Minerva McGonagall was not equipped to handle such situations. 

An omega at Hogwarts? With a plethora of alpha boys sharing such close proximity? She rubbed her hands over her eyes as the students clambered off the train and made their way to the castle. She caught sight of Ms. Greengrass briefly, giving her a brief nod of appreciation before making her way into the train. 

Ms. Granger was seated as Greengrass had left her, as if afraid any sudden movements would cause the alphas to be more aggressive. McGonagall sighed.

Oh Hermione, why you…

“Ms. Granger, I’m here to escort you to the castle. I’ve given my professors strict orders to keep all students locked in the great hall for dinner while we get you somewhere safe.”

Hermione nodded. She wasn’t going to be able to have the first dinner back with her friends. She wouldn’t get to see Ron shoving more food in his mouth than thought humanly possible. Wouldn’t see Ginny making googly eyes to whatever boy fascinated her this week. No Neville and his awkward charm. She wanted to cry, would she ever get to do those things again? Would life ever be normal?

As if reading her mind McGonagall placed a delicate hand on her shoulder.

“It’s not forever, Hermione. When your heat is over you're free to return.”

With that, the headmistress made her way to the castle with Hermione in tow. Upon arrival, she ushered her up the stairs to a corridor Hermione recognized as the one being guarded by the three headed dog so many years ago. 

This time there was no dog and the harp sat unused in the corner. Instead, the room had a thick red carpet splayed out on the concrete. A bed stood just next to the window and was fitted with a soft looking red comforter. 

“This will have to do for now. It’s the farthest I can get you away from the alphas. You will have wards to protect you should any alpha find his way up here... “ She paused to awkwardly cough, “Food will be brought to you by the house elves. If you need any other assistance you can call them. Missy!” 

Suddenly, a small house elf emerged. “Ms. Granger, this is Missy. She is the child of Dobby and Winky. She knows of your dedication to her parents and is very excited to serve you.”

“Yes, miss! So so very excited! If miss need anything, miss can call me! Missy will assist miss in anything!”

Hermione gave her a warm smile, but felt the tension in her body start to come to a head. McGonagall could see the uncomfortableness and guess this was the beginning of her first heat.

“Come, Missy. And Ms. Granger, when you’re,” another cough,”finished… go to the door and say “It’s Over”. It will disarm the wards and let you leave.”

With that, Hermione was alone. Again.

--------------------------------------------

She could tell by the clock given to her that it had only been three days, but it felt like a lifetime. 

A lifetime of panting and sweating, even in the cold of the concrete room. A lifetime of rubbing her clit and trying to release the tension swelling up in her body. But just as the relief would wash in from her orgasm, another wave of frustration would grasp the reins of her body and push her for more, more, more. 

Her slick was running down her leg from the sheer amount of times she came in the past few days. Thankfully, McGonagall thought enough to equip her with a bathroom. She would try in vain to wash the slick and sweat off of herself before stepping out of the water and cumming enough to replenish it all.

Three days. Three fucking days. And no one told her how long until it would be over. She settled back down onto the bed as another wave of tension grabbed at her womb. Already sticky fingers rubbed dedicated circles over her clit while the other hand grabbed and teased her sensitive nipples. 

Crying out, sweat furrowed at her brow, she came again. And again. And again. Until finally, it was over. 

She was panting, waiting for the next surge of need to hit her. But it never came. 

Three days. Every month. Three days.

She quickly made work of washing and dressing herself before hurrying to the door. 

“It’s over.” She said, with much relief in her voice. The door cracked itself open as if to say, “be free!” and she hurriedly pushed it open all the way. 

On the other side a similar face was smiling knowingly, pityingly. 

“So…” Daphne smiled, “How'd it go?” 

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“You could have warned me it would be this bad.” Hermione huffed as her and Daphne walked along the Hogwarts corridors. 

Daphne stopped suddenly, “Granger, I couldn’t even if I wanted. No one knows what heat is like. At least, not really. I have a fraction of what you went through and couldn’t even imagine more. No one’s had a real heat in, well, a century.”

Even though Daphne was right there, Hermione felt alone. Again. There was no one in the world she could talk to about this, no one out there who knew how to make it better. No one..

Daphne seemed to sense her upset and placed her hand in Hermione’s, guiding her towards the kitchen. 

“Come on, you haven’t eaten a real meal in days.”

Hermione let herself be pulled, let herself be sat at the kitchen’s country, let herself feast on the meal the elves put before her.

“I can’t do that again, Daphne.” She said between bites. “Please, you have to know something that’ll make it bearable.”

Daphne bit her lip, unsure of how she should proceed. “Well.. There is.. One thing..”

“Please,” Hermione begged, taking her hand to grab Daphne’s, “I’ll do anything. Anything to make it better.”

“A partner… You need a partner. Making yourself… Doing it yourself… It’s not what your body wants. Its.. Not what it needs. During your heat you have a natural instinct to mate and breed-”

“I’m not ready to.. To.. breed!” Hermione cut her off, pulling her hands away and rubbing her face with them. Hot tears in her eyes. 

"No, no, of course not! You can use precaution.. You just need to, fuck I don’t know, trick your body into thinking you’re doing those things.”

Hermione looked just as upset as before, “But you said there was no one who wouldn’t bite me..”

“No, I said none of your blokes. I know just the guy."

Chapter Text

Draco Malfoy was not one to be uncomfortable. In fact, he thrived off of unsavory situations. But this… 

Hermione sat just in front of him, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip and fingers playing with loose curls. With every turn of her head Draco could make out the swell of her scent gland. He took in big gulps of air. Her scent was so strong the fibers on his tongue vibrated and his salvation was almost uncontrollable. 

It was like the juice of a fresh cherry. Tangy at first bite, but as you suck the flesh from around the seed the taste becomes sweeter. A pure scent, a pure taste. Untouched by any alphas. Draco wanted nothing more than to grab her hair, pull her neck back to expose that swelled sack, and give it a firm lick. She’d smell like him. Everyone would know he’d be there first, she was his. 

Suddenly, brown eyes met grey. The gulps of air Draco had once been taking were not caught in his throat. He could feel the sharpness of his teeth over his lips. His body telling him bite her, take her. Instead, he clenched his jaw. Taking this as a sign of anger, Hermione looked down once more.

Draco took the lack of eye contact to really study her. 

Had she always been this beautiful?

The answer was no. Her frizzed mane was tamed into soft curls. Her eyebrows neatly plucked. Her teeth, once too big for her mouth, were now straight and pearly as she gnawed on her lip. 

I’d bite that lip. In fact I’d-

“As much as I love how awkward this is, really I do, I’d much prefer if we could settle this now.” Daphne’s voice broke though.

“I.. don’t expect you to say yes. I know it’s a lot. But… I can’t go through that again, alone. It would only be for three days. Three days a month until I can… I can find an alternative. But I need… I need a hand.. well, more than a hand… oh Merlin, I didn’t mean it like that… someone stop me.”

Hermione’s cheeks were burning and her table mates could all but feel the heat radiating from them even with her head buried into her hands. 

“What she means is,” Daphne saves the day once again, “she needs your help to trick her body into thinking you’re bonding.”

“Her heat is… much worse than any of us anticipated,” McGonagall chimed in, her mouth pulled into an awkward line.

Great, I’m so glad the headmistress is a part of this discussion of me getting fucked. The thought was shared between them both.

“It would be dangerous for her to walk around her unscented. If Cormac is any indication of these other alphas, she wouldn’t last a week without…” Daphne had the decency to cast a sympathetic look to Hermione, who had since returned back to chewing her lip.

“Ms. Greengrass tells me you’re very,” An awkward cough, “practiced in your control. She has a high confidence in your,” another cough, “ability...” a cough, “Water, yes, I’m going to go fetch some water.”

McGonagall all but ran from the table, leaving just the three in silence. 

“Draco-” Daphne started.

Before she could finish he grinds out through his teeth, “There’s no one else?”

A thick tension filled the air. Draco’s eyes snapped up to meet Hermione’s. Hurt, humiliation, regret, fear. All in one look.

I knew it. He doesn’t want me. He doesn’t want to touch me.

“This… this was a mistake.” Hermione stood to go. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. 

Daphne grabbed her hand, “No, Granger, he doesn’t mean-”

Before she could finish Hermione escaped through the door. She ran down the corridor, up the stairs, ran, ran, ran until her lungs were burning and she fell into a heap on the floor.

At the same time, Daphne was in a heated (one sided) argument with Draco.

“You idiot! ”

“I’m sure you’re right, but why?”

“ There isn’t anyone else? She thinks you’re uninterested, disgusted! Do you know how long it took me to even get her to be a part of this conversation?”

“I just-”

“A month. A month. Her heat is in a day, you fucking dirtbird!”

“But I-”

“No, no buts! I don’t care! I don’t bloody care what you meant ! You’re going to go find her and you are going to apologize and you are going to take her and fuck her like you mean it.”

Without a word, Draco stalked out the same way Hermione did. Her scent was still thick and fresh in the air. Like a hound he followed the scent. But it wasn’t just hers he could smell. Alphas, tons of them. They smelled her too. Knew her heat was close. Knew she was alone. Unscented, unmarked.

Draco broke out into a run. Omega, my omega. Alarm bells were ringing in his head, his ears buzzed, and his breath came in short pants. I’m coming, omega, I’m coming.

There she was, no alphas in sight. He could have fainted in relief. When she looked up he could see the swollenness of her eyes. You hurt your omega.

“What-” Hermione started.

Draco dragged her to her feet, “You’re okay, thank Merlin you’re okay.”

He buried his face into her neck, his teeth just out of reach of her scent glands. Still, his panting breath was gliding deliciously over the glands, making them pulsate not only in her neck but in a place much farther down. 

“Malfoy listen, you don’t-”

Draco seemed to realize what he was doing and quickly threw himself off of her, the sudden movement causing Hermione to flinch. 

“Granger, you bloody fool, I wasn’t saying no to helping you back there.”

“You weren’t?” Her eyes were hopeful, but unsure.

“Of course not. I just,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I’m the last person you should let do this. After.. After everything.”

“I… It’s been years, Malfoy. I forgave you long ago. I know this has been a lot to ask of you and I… I understand if you really don’t want to do it. And I’m not going to blackmail you into having sex with me. I’m sure I could find someone else.”

Draco didn’t like that. My omega. 

“But I’m not ready to be… bonded. To have children. And I’m afraid if it’s anyone else they’ll take advantage of it. Like I said, I don’t want to blackmail you… but if you’re really sorry for everything, you’ll do this for me.”

Draco mulled over her admissions for a second. When Daphne first approached him about being Granger’s heat partner, he was ecstatic. A century of alphas would kill him to have the opportunity to lie with an omega. To knot inside her. To feel the true binding of magic they could only read about. 

As the weeks went by with Daphne trying to convince Hermione it was a good idea as well, Draco’s eager for the idea faltered significantly. How was he supposed to be with an omega ( your omega his thoughts reminded him), not bond with her, and then watch as she left to become someone else’s mate. 

“Did you ever stop to think maybe I don’t want to do this? Maybe I have no desire to be used for my controlled carnal instincts?”

Daphne would have snorted if he didn’t look so serious, “You seemed pretty eager on the train when I mentioned it-”

“That was a month ago!”

“What has gotten into you? Can you really not put your prejudice aside to help someone in-”

“It’s not that, you know I don’t think like that anymore.”

“Then what, Draco, what?”

“I don’t… I don’t deserve her.”

His eyes shifted to rest on the scar just raised on her forearm. Mudblood. The word he so carelessly tossed around his whole life, a word he never truly grasped the consequences behind. He called her that. The first person to ever call her that. He watched as it was carved into her arm. He did nothing. 

Looking back into Hermione’s eyes he could see the pleading. The fear of being alone again in a situation she didn’t understand. 

You’ll do it. And you’ll watch her leave. That’s your penance. 

“Okay.” 

She glanced up, “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“It’s not… It won’t be forever. You’ll just be… lending me a helping hand.”

“A helping hand.”

“That’s all.”

And Draco knew truly, that would be all.

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McGonagall pulled him out of potions the next day just as the sun was hitting its highest peak. 2:00 p.m. Granger said it would come around the afternoon, but that didn’t stop him from glancing nervously at the clock since he woke up that day. Every opening of the door he would glance over hopefully, maybe nervously, to see if it was time. 

Blaise had noticed his distressed even when no one else did. Over an untouched breakfast, Draco told him everything. About Daphne. About McGonagall. About Hermione. 

And Blaise had the audacity to laugh.

“So you’re telling me, you get to shag Hermione Granger. One third of the Golden Trio. Beauty and brains. Only omega in the world. But you’re upset?”

No, upset wasn’t the right word. Terrified. Draco was very controlled in his instincts. Contrary to what many alphas would have you think, they have power over their actions. But it’s easier to tell the world, “I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t stop it.” When you claim an unwilling omega than to tell the truth, “I’m a rapist.”

Draco, out of the many things he was, was not that. But the voice in the back of his mind told him, you don’t know what this will be like. Maybe you won’t be able to help it. She’ll be so willing. Draco knew better. In heat, an omega is not in the right mind. Hermione will beg to be bitten, begged to be taken, but that wasn’t her. He would never claim her in heat, he told himself. 

Not that she would ever let you anyway.

McGonagall stopped suddenly in the beginnings of the corridor. The flame of the torches seemed to cast a halo around the door where the omega would be waiting. My omega. 

“I’ll leave you here. The wards won’t let me in, but they will you. Please… be careful.”

Please don’t fuck this up  he knew is what she wanted to say. But with that, she was gone, leaving Draco to walk robotically to the door. 

He could hear her mewling inside. Her heat had begun already and she was probably in there touching herself. No, she definitely was touching herself. He could smell her slick from the other side of the thick door. It was almost like the wood was absorbing her scent and perspiring it from its pores. 

His cock was hard already. He knew his pupils were blown and he could feel the sharpness of his teeth over his lips. A few shallow breaths and he was ready. The door seemed to open by itself and he was hit with the sight, sound, and scent of the omega. She looked up at him.

My omega.

Chapter Text

She had only been there for an hour without him at most. But her hair was already slick and stuck to her forehead. Her eyes glossy and dazed. Lips swollen and red. She was biting them again.

“Alpha.. Alpha please…”

In three strides Draco was across the room. She was stunning; shirt unbuttoned haphazardly, skirt bunched around the waist, white cotton panties almost translucent with her slick. Her hand was still in her panties, making tight circles over her clit. With a growl, Draco ripped her hand away. She cried at the loss, but threw her head back in a deep moan as his hands replaced hers. 

He didn’t have a plan of how this should go. Some talking to establish ground rules, maybe some foreplay. But she didn’t need it. She was so ready for him. 

Omega, omega, my perfect omega.

In a swift motion her panties were off and Draco sucked in a breath. Her pussy was glistening. Pink and swollen from the amount of times she had already made herself cum. 

“Turn over.”

“Alpha please… please let me look at you.” She begged him, gyrating her hips against his hand to increase friction.

But Draco knew better. He had to keep his mouth as far away from her scent glands as possible, at least for now. If he plunged into her like this, he didn’t think any control in the world could stop him from bending down and sinking his teeth into the flesh of her neck. It was too close. Too displayed for him.

He growled deep in his throat and it seemed to make her slick gush out even more. Removing his hand from her heat, ignoring her desperate pleas. In one motion she was on her stomach, writhing against the cushions. The comforter underneath already soaked.

He pulled up her hips, careful to make sure she kept her head down. He thighs were shaking but he could only watch as a drop of slick made its way from her entrance to join the wet spot in the blanket. He wanted to lick it up. But there was no time.

Later, when he had more control. When she wasn’t burning up. He would play with her, take his time. But right now, she needed him. His pants followed his shirt to the ground, boxer briefs just moments behind them. Hermione could see from the corner of her eye how truly magnificent he looked.

Broad and hard, like silk over metal. Dusty blonde hair peppering his body and… her eyes widen. Through the fog of her heat her mind panics, that thing is not going to fit inside me.

Draco, sensing her uneasiness, chuckles low. 

“I’ll go slow-”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

She looks behind her, the haze returning and her eyelids falling, “Don’t be slow. Take me, alpha. Take me. I’m yours.”

I’m yours.

It’s not real Draco, he reminds himself, she doesn’t mean it.

But her slight wiggle of the hips to brush against his cock is the last straw. He grips her hips tightly, almost too tightly, but it only adds to her pleasure.

“Please, alpha, now.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. In a swift motion, he lined up his cock with her entrance and plunged into her. Then, euphoria. 

This pussy was magic, it vibrated with each moan and scream she gave out. And he hadn’t even fucking moved. Not an inch. She was almost sobbing underneath him. If it wasn’t for her desperate thrusts back against him telling him to keep going he would assume she was in pain. 

“More, alpha, more. More. More.” All effort of control snapped. He grabbed her hair, pulling her tight against him.

Each plunge was deeper and stronger than the last. Alpha, alpha, alpha. Her mind screamed and he thought he could hear it. She was close. He could feel the clenching and unclenching of her muscles around him. 

The knot began to form at the base of his cock and he almost screamed at the surprise. He never knotted before. But it swelled and told him he was close too. 

His thrusts became erratic and he could feel his knot hitting her entrance, begging for entry. 

“Put it inside me. Please, alpha, please.”

He almost couldn’t recognize her voice. So needy.

“This is gonna hurt, my omega. Try to be still.”

In an impossibly hard thrust, he impaled all of himself into her. She screamed. He screamed. Slick and cum gushing between their conjoined bodies. 

He fell onto her, his head leaning against the dip of her back. Arms wrapped securely around her waist as she shook and panted. When she looked back at him, the haze was gone once more. For a split second Draco feared she would yell, throw him out, regret inviting him in the first place. He shifted his gaze down to the creamy smoothness of her skin. If he didn't look her in the eye he wouldn't be able to see the disappointment. 

Her silence was confirmation enough. As soon as his knot was able to slide out, Draco freed himself and stalked quietly to the bathroom. She smelled like him now too, mint mixed with her natural cherry scent. It drove him wild.

She smelled like him, the whole room smelled of them, he needed to get out of the room. She smelled like him. She smelled like him. She smelled like him. She was his. 

Except, she wasn't. 

-----------------------------------------------------

Daphne Greengrass was a selfless fucking person. 

A month. A month of listening to Granger cry. A month of dealing with Malfoy’s angst. And it was finally over. She could cry in relief herself. 

Draco, ever since her failure to present the few months before, had treated her like a porcelain doll. Never mentioning other women around her, never speaking of his alpha instincts, never bringing up her “heat” (or lack thereof).

On one hand, she appreciated his sensibilities. On the other, the only reason he was so careful was because he thought she was in love with him.

Yes, thought. 

Maybe when they were younger she had a bit of a crush on him, but that quickly passed when a stranger took their blonde hair, blue eyes, pale skin, and similar pointed nose for siblings. She wasn’t going to fuck someone who looked like a brother. 

No, instead she let him believe he was the object of her affection. It was much more acceptable than the truth. Daphne laughed to herself. As if anyone could talk about what's acceptable right now. 

Ron Weasley turned the corner suddenly, Harry Potter in tow. Daphne could swear they could see the redness of her ears through the sheer of her blonde hair. 

“Greengrass.” Weasley nodded politely to her.

“Weasley.”

Harry turned to face her, green eyes glinting in the sun shining through the pillars of the corridor. Such genuine eyes.

“Greengrass, we wanted to thank you. You know, for taking care of Hermione. We should have been there.”

Daphne snorted, “Hardly your fault. I’m just glad both of you had enough wits not to bite her.”

Harry laughed, “Not me. It was Ron over here who was having the trouble.”

Daphne thought her heart had stopped in her chest, “You mean… you’re not?”

“An alpha? No, thank God,” Harry ran a hand through his hair and laughed from deep in his chest, “imagine being The Boy Who Lived and an alpha? Sometimes the universe is fair.”

She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The boys blinked at her. Awkward.

“Well anyways,” Ron broke the silence, “we just wanted to say thanks for everything.”

She nodded dumbly as they passed her.

What an odd bird, Harry thought as he glanced behind him at the woman who had still not moved.

Blaise appeared from behind a pillar. His pearl smile shone brightly from behind dark lips. 

“I’ll have to ask Potter how he managed to shut you up. I’ve been trying for years.”

Daphne gave him a weak scowl, still reeling from the encounter with the raven haired beauty. 

“He was just thanking me. Maybe I was just so amazed by the kind gesture, Merlin knows I get so few of them with you lot.”

“Do they know where their dear Hermione is now? Who she’s with?” Blaise wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Do you really think they’d be thanking me if they knew? “Thanks for getting my friend fucked by dickhead extraordinaire Draco Malfoy, Daph, really owe you one”.”

Blaise shrugged and offered an elbow to Daphne.

“If you care about me, you’ll let me be there when they find out.”

----------------------------------------------

It was coming up to day three of her heat. Unlike the last time, the fog in her head cleared a little more with every orgasm Draco had given to her. Well, in theory they had been given to her, but sometimes it felt that he was taking her orgasms. Drinking them in. It was as if at her weakest, when the waves of pleasure were ripping her apart, he was the strongest.

During the lulls of the heat, you could find them on opposite sides of the room. Both buried in their own respective book or assignment, with no words passed between them.

Then the waves of need would grip at her. The room would become hot, too small to hold them. Still with no words Draco would cross the room, carry her to the bed, and make the burning go away. 

But it was always the same. The same position. On your stomach, hips up, no eye contact. After the first time, he was careful to never thrust hard enough to catch his knot in her entrance.

She wanted to cry after every session together, when he would push himself off of her and stalk to the bathroom . Your alpha is upset, your alpha is displeased. It was almost panic in her chest each time he would leave her. Alpha, alpha, please come back.  But she wouldn't dare utter a word. She didn't want to hear his rejection. 

Then he would return from the bathroom, careful to avoid her eye, and continue whatever he was working on the moment before.

At night, he would sleep upright on the chair, leaving Hermione with the whole bed to herself. She had asked him, only once, if he’d like to join her when she noticed the uncomfort he showed in his back. The warning look that was shot to her made her never ask again.

Hermione bit her lip, the clock read noon exactly. It wasn’t much longer until the three days were over. If she could just make it through the next few hours without…

It was as if her body could hear her and laughed. If she had heard Harry’s sentiment, sometimes the universe is fair, she would have laughed. And then cried, as she felt like doing now. It was the most intense burning of all the three days. She could feel the sweat forming, the slick puddling in her panties. But Draco was still in the bathroom. 

“Alpha!” She all but sobbed, the sound echoing off the concrete walls. 

It seemed she didn’t even finish the word before the door swung open. Draco stood in the doorway, there was fear in his eyes until his gaze found her in the room. Then there was only desire. She knew her eyes must look the same. 

She was in his arms before she could take another breath. Her nails scratched at his scalp, down his neck, anything to get him closer. But he wouldn’t kiss her, wouldn’t dare kiss her.

“Alpha please, I need… I need…” She didn’t know what she needed, only he did. Her alpha. “I can’t wait, alpha, please.”

He knew. There was no time to get her into position. No time for precaution. Rough hands pulled down soaked panties and discarded them. She was up against the wall in a second, legs wrapped around his waist. His cock deeply rooted in her. 

His head was up, looking at the ceiling. Looking anywhere but her, anywhere but the pulsing swell in her neck that begged to be bitten. 

But Hermione didn’t notice. Her own head was spinning, thrown back against the coldness of the wall. She was close. They could both feel it. Her slick was running down his cock, running down his leg. His knot was forming and his thrusts became shallow.

Hermione dug her heels into the flesh of his back.

“More, alpha, I need more… inside, inside, please.” 

He couldn’t even try to deny her. His omega. Begging for his knot. In one quick thrusts he was completely buried in her. Draco’s legs were shaking from supporting both their weights in the aftermath of such an earth shattering orgasm.

And then it was over.

1:45 p.m on day three. 

They were silent with each other as they waited for Draco's knot to shrink enough for him to slip out of her.

Without sparing a glance, Draco sloppily packed his things. She was still a quivering mess on the floor and although he tries to give off an air of indifference, Draco was panting heavily as he threw his belongings into his bag.

He made a break for the door, but before he could utter the code a hand sneaked from behind him and grabbed his wrists. Even though he had just fucked the witch every odd hour for three days, this touch was more electrifying. More intimate.

“Will you be here next month?” A small voice whispered. If the walls didn’t echo the sound back Draco would have thought it never happened.

“I’ll be here.” 

With a quick demanding " it’s over"  he was out the door. Leaving Hermione. Alone. Again. 

And for the first time since all this started, she cried.

Chapter Text

Harry Potter did not read unless it was absolute, without a doubt, inexplicably necessary. 

After years cooped up with the Dursleys with nothing but books to read, he was tired of them. Why read about adventures when you can have them on your own? What I’m trying to say is that Harry Potter did not read. Ever. 

So when Ronald Weasley found his friend buried in a ten inch thick book early in the morning on a weekend, well, he just about fainted. 

“Blimey, Harry.” The boy jumped at the mention of his name, not expecting anyone else to be up at this hour. “I never thought I’d see the day. You barely touch your school books, let alone ones for pleasure.”

Harry scoffed, “This is hardly for pleasure. I’m… researching.”

“Oh Merlin, he’s gone mad. Absolutely mad. Academics, Harry Potter, on a Saturday? I must alert-” Ron’s friendly antics stopped short at the sight of his friend’s serious face. 

“I’m reading about what Hermione is. If it wasn’t our friend going through it, it would be fascinating. But this is, wow, did you know they would sell omegas to men? To do whatever?”

“Oh yeah, Mum talked about it all the time. Her Aunt was an omega you know. My Great-Aunt Shirley. A man offered her riches to have her. But she chose a poor man instead. During harder times for us my Mum would say she wished Shirley had taken the riches so we wouldn’t be so- Oh, come off it Harry, she was just having a go.”

Harry shot his friend a look, but then softened his expression. “Do you… I mean… do you think that would happen today? Do you really think men would try and buy Hermione?”

Ron sank down next to his raven-haired companion on the couch. He pondered for a moment. 

“I would think so… I mean, McGonagall’s been keeping a very tight lip about everything. No one knows for sure yet, but there’s rumors now. After Hermione’s first month…” Ron trailed off as Harry cringed. 

The first month after Hermione’s heat was over was hard. Very hard. At first, she tried to not let it distract her from her studies. Tried to go to class and meals as if everything was normal. But what could be normal about hundreds of males baring their teeth at each other when they tried to get near you? What was normal about your best friend bringing himself to the point of vomiting because he was withholding himself from you? Nothing, nothing was normal. 

Hermione barricaded herself in the concrete corridor for the remainder of the month. She requested only females be allowed entry in the wards. Daphne visited frequently; bringing her assignments and talking to her about Draco. But it meant Harry and Ron hadn’t spoken to their friend in just under a month. 

“Lots of people are talking now, Harry. About how the alphas are acting, about how Hermione has disappeared. McGonagall can’t keep it a secret forever. But, when it does and the rest of the world finds out…” 

“She’ll get offers.” Harry finished. 

Ron sighed, “She’ll get offers.”

The pair sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity. The dim sunlight had shifted to a dull brightness of real morning. Gryffindor residents began to pour into the common room with them, creating a distracting buzz. But, all of a sudden, the buzz was gone. 

Hermione Granger stood in the entrance, eyes searching for the friends she hadn’t seen in so long. When her eyes settled on the pair, she bounded towards them. Without thinking, she flung herself into the arms of Ron first. He recoiled at her touch. However, this was different than last time. Much different. Instead of the typical self-restraining nausea, he looked angry. Furious. 

“Ron, I wasn’t thinking! I’m sorry, I-”

“Wasn’t thinking? Is that why you smell like Malfoy? ”

The room seemed to still. All eyes were on them. 

“Guys, let’s go. Not here.” Harry dragged his fiery friend away from prying eyes, Hermione following with her head dropped almost all the way to her chest. Harry settled them into his and Ron’s shared dorm room and locked the door. 

“I can explain, Ron, it’s-”

“It’s what, Hermione? We’ve been sitting here for a month sick with worry and you’ve been off-” Harry gave him a warning look, “galivanting with… with that… with that Death Eater!”

Hermione was speechless. Hot tears stung at her eyes. But further back in her subconscious she heard it. He insulted your alpha. Hermione shook the thought from her head. Surely it was just an omega impulse. 

“Ron, I’m sure Hermione has a good explanation. So if you could just-”

“Oh like hell she has a good-”

“ Silencio!” 

Hermione pocketed her wand while Harry stared wide-eyed at his friend who was obviously trying to scream with no luck.

“Now you listen here, Ronald. I didn’t ask for this. Any of this. And it’s hard enough already worrying if I’m going to be attacked at every second. Draco’s help was offered to me and I took it. Now, I’m going to let you speak again. But you better have something nice to say or I don’t think I’ll have many complaints in keeping you muffled forever.”

With a wave of her wand, Ron’s vocal cords were once again in perfect working order. Unfortunately. She stuck the wooden piece back into the pocket of her robes and crossed her arms, waiting for Ron to speak once more. 

“His help… was offered to you? By who?” Ron said slowly.

Hermione shuffled her feet, arms dropping at her sides. 

“Well, Daphne…”

“Daphne? Daphne Greengrass? We just saw her and she said nothing about shacking you up with a Death Eater! Merlin, we thanked her!”

“Ron, I just said I wouldn’t hesitate-”

Before she could finish, Ron was out the door and stalking down the corridors. Harry and Hermione shared a quick, panicked look before chasing him.

“You don’t think-”

“All I know is we should find Daphne and Malfoy before he does.” Harry panted, moving quickly to follow the flashes of red hair turning the corner. Ron all but threw open the door to the great hall where the houses were sharing breakfast. 

“Greengrass, just where do you get off?” They heard Ron’s voice through over all the rest of the chatter in the hall. The rest of the students were so used to the red heads hot temper, none even spared a passing glance.

“Oh god.. Oh god it’s happening, it’s really happening. I’m not prepared. I don’t have a camera. Someone get me a camera.” Hermione heard Blaise say as she rushed to the Slytherin table.

“I get off just fine, thank you, anywhere I want.” Daphne responded nonchalantly, sipping her pumpkin juice. 

Ron’s ears matched his hair as he stomped his foot. Like a child, Hermione thought. 

“We just saw you yesterday and you didn’t think to tell us you have a Death Eater fucking our friend and convinced her it’s a good idea?” 

Draco was silent, Hermione noticed. Head down, but she could still see his face. Blank. Like he already knew what was coming. But even though he seemed unaffected by this, Hermione could not stop the incantation in her head; alpha, alpha, he insulted your alpha. He hurt your alpha. 

Daphne rose from her seat gracefully and pressed a delicate finger to Ron’s chest, eyes narrowed. 

“Well I didn’t see you stepping up anytime soon, Weasley. Too busy almost vomiting every time you get near your friend, yeah? Let me ask you this. When you saw her, did you feel an urge to jump her?”

Ron turned his head to peer over at his brunette friend, “Well no, I-”

“And do you see any of these other alphas snarling their way over here?”

“No, but-”

“And why is that?”

“She doesn’t… she doesn’t smell like herself!” Ron threw his hands up in the air, knocking Daphne’s pressing nail off his chest. “She smells like… him!”

“Exactly, you fucking imbisol, my dear Death Eater friend Draco has sucessfully scent marked her. Protecting her from men like you,” she pressed her nail into him again, causing him to inch away, “who can’t seem to control their own actions. She deserves to be able to go to class and eat and most importantly,” Ron was backed up against the wall of the great hall at this point, “ fuck whoever she wants without having to worry about being assulted. Which, I’ll remind you, you thanked me for saving her from just yesterday.” 

Everyone was speechless. Daphne’s breath was ragged and her normally pin-straight blonde hair seemed to be standing on end with anger. 

“Did anyone else just get a boner?” Was how Blaise decided to break the silence. 

With a huff, Ron stormed from the hall with Harry hot on his trails. But not without sparing a glance behind at the furious blonde.

Merlin, how can someone be so graceful but so scary? Harry’s thought was both amazed and impressed. 

Draco got up then. Suddenly deciding that the eyes that were now all faced towards them were not how he wanted to spend his breakfast. 

“Mate, come on, he was just having a fit!” Blaise reached out to try and grasp his friend’s arm, but the blonde was too quick for him. In just a few short strides he was out the door. 

Hermione didn’t even have to think; her omega thought for her. Comfort you alpha, your alpha’s hurt. Alpha, alpha, alpha.

She found him perched upon a windowsill overlooking the lake.The slight wind breeze had ruffled his hair and the still rising sun was a hue of gold and orange that reflected in his eyes. He was gorgeous and Hermione did not need her omega to tell her that. 

“Draco?” She approached carefully, hands wrung together. 

He didn’t answer, didn’t acknowledge that she was there at all. 

“What Ron said… that’s not how I think of you. I hope you know that. I asked you because I know you’re good. You’re not… You’re not like…”

“I’m not my father.”

“No,” She whispered, “you’re so much better.”

She bit her lip. 

“I didn’t get a chance to say thank you, before you left. I feel…” She didn’t finish and Draco spared a side-eyed look towards her. 

She didn’t notice his wandering eyes as her face was downcast and her eyes were sparkling with tears. Draco’s heart clenched in his chest. My omega, please don’t cry. My sweet girl, my sweet omega. I’ll protect you. Draco had to shut his eyes to stop himself from grabbing her, wrapping her in his arms, and escaping to their corridor together. But he couldn’t. She didn’t want it. She didn’t want him. 

All of a sudden he could feel the press of her fingertips against his shoulder. It was the first time she had ever touched him outside of her heat. As quickly as it was there, her touch was gone. The skin there felt empty now, stripped of the magic of her touch. 

“Thank you.” 

And she was gone. The air surrounding Draco smelled like them. He clung on to the cherry scent until it was gone. But that emptiness of her touch… that remained.

It doesn’t change anything, Draco. Her reminded himself.

But it did, that touch changed everything.

Chapter Text

It seems that ache that was left behind by Hermione’s nimble fingers on his shoulder would be there forever. It was days after their encounter and his body still burned with the loss of her touch. It was a constant reminder of a few things. One, she had touched him for the first time out of heat.Two, she had done so to comfort him. Three, his control was very much slipping.

It started just after she turned the corridor away from him, leaving him perched on the window facing the lake. He was hard. Just from her fingertips. 

He hurriedly tucked his cock into the waistband of his trousers to pull it flush against his body. It was the only way he’d be able to survive the walk down to his dormitory without frightening a child with his massive erection. He didn’t walk or run, but strolled to the dungeons. He hoped desperately that if he were to take his time, mixed with the unbelievably cold air of the dungeons, the hardness would fade. But alas, hard it stayed. 

Draco wrinkled his nose as he recalled the way he forcefully retrieved himself from the tuck of the waistband, letting his member free. Grabbing it swiftly with long, broad strokes. He had to think of something-anything that could make him cum. At first it was a faceless woman with her back turned. Head down, ass up. Long straight blonde hair spilling over her shoulders. With every stroke it became curled, wild, and honey-brown. No, this wasn’t a good fantasy. That was the position. The position. Of course he’d think of her.

The scene changed. Not the mystery woman was facing him. Blue eyes glazed in pleasure as he drove into her pussy. She was screaming. Alpha, alpha, alpha. The eyes were now a deep brown, wide with pleasure. Exactly how Draco imagined her eyes would look. Looking right into his soul, then down between them to watch him disappear inside her before pulling all the way out. Doe eyes watching her own slick coat every inch of her alpha’s cock. The screaming he heard was now Hermione’s panted begging. More, faster, harder. And in his fantasy, Draco didn’t have to have control. His hand gripped tighter, mimicking the hot flesh of her inner muscles. Those eyes. Those big doe eyes. Begging for him. For her alpha. Begging him to cum. To fill her and swell her womb with his child. 

That was when the last twig of restraint was snapped. Hermione, his omega, round with his child. His mark on her scent glands. With a swipe of his thumb over the head of his cock, he came uncontrollably down his hand. Those doe eyes stared back at him in his fantasy, kissed him. But then they were gone. 

A quick wave of his wand and the remnants of his loss of control was gone. He felt guilty. Shameful. He shouldn’t be thinking these thoughts. It would make it harder, so much harder for him to be in control during her heat. 

He knew he could never look into her eyes. Not when they were fucking. Not while she was in heat.

-----------------------------

The first few weeks after her heat with Draco were, if nothing else, freeing. She was finally able to sit at her own desk, eat at her house table, be alone in the library without having to constantly glance over her shoulder or clutch her wand in hand. 

The other alphas seemed to not even notice her anymore. Or if they did, they would just turn away in disgust of Malfoy’s smell. She didn’t mind it though. The constant mint smell was comforting. Like he had wrapped a protective blanket of musk around her to repel other men. The thought made heat pool at the bottom of her belly and spread a thick blush over her face.

But as the weeks moved on the scent seemed to drift farther and farther away. The blanket was being pulled away, she felt, but the other side of her believed perhaps she was just getting accustomed to the smell. 

The walk to the library on a Saturday was a quiet one. On a November morning most were outside enjoying the fall breeze by the lake or up in the air on their brooms. But Hermione savored these days alone in the library. Once the weather was too cold for outdoor leisure the amount of students occupying the books would triple. For now, she would enjoy the alone time. 

The air smelled of books and cherries, a scent she came to know as her own. But no mint, not even a little. 

The corner of the library housed textbooks for transfiguration and, naturally,  Hermione’s feet were on autopilot to get there. It was familiar, it was warm. It was-

“Hello, Hermione.” 

Even with her back turned she knew the sound, and smell, of Dante Verona. A fellow seventh year student with thick black wisps of hair and undeniably gorgeous eyes. He was one of the first boys to clamber to greet her after her first heat. He could smell the cherries and vulnerability. But his teeth. Her parents would have a heart attack. And his breath solidified her assumption of his lack of dental hygiene. He gave a tight lipped smile, keeping her distance away from her nose. 

Merlin, shouldn’t he be able to smell his own breath as an alpha? 

“Hello, Verona. What brings you to the library on such a day? Shouldn’t you be outside?”

Take the hint, take the hint. 

Instead, he smiled, strolled over to where she was wedged between a bookshelf and a desk, and sat in the path of her only escape. Her heart began to thump irregularly. 

You’ll be fine. Alpha will protect you. Alpha’s smell will protect you.

As if reading her mind Dante grins, “You finally don’t have that Death Eater stench on you. A ripe time for a new scent, don’t you think?”

The thumping stopped all together. All the nerves in her body felt like when frostbite met fire. There was no fight or flight, only stillness.

A hand slipped its way across her thigh, under the hem of her skirt. It wasn’t warm or gentle like Draco’s. It was calloused and cold as it grazed the apex. Her breath hitched. Her omega was in turmoil. This wasn’t Draco, her omega knew, but it was an alpha. And the omega screamed to be marked. Even if it was with those ghastly teeth. 

There was a sob in her throat she couldn’t push out. Something was clawing it back into her, pushing her to be quiet. Dante took this as a sign of submission instead of fear and pushed her body flush against the bookcase. Omega thought, take me alpha. Hermione thought, Draco where are you?

-------------------

Draco was, in fact, somewhere in the library. He knew she was there the second she walked in. Unmistakably cherry. But no mint. He frowned. Where was his scent he had given her?

Taking big gulps of air, he followed the scent right to a secluded section of the library. He could not only smell the cherry of his omega, but he could smell something familiar. Something worse. He turned the corner just as Verona had hiked her skirt up past her tips and was working on stroking her through her panties. Draco’s heart paused in his chest. Was this the other option? Was he the better solution? One look at her face, torn between bewildering fear and the inability to resist. He knew this was not the better option.

Merlin knows why he did it. Draco didn’t even know how. But suddenly, his fist was flying into the back of the boys head. A deafening crack sounded through the room. Verona slowly turned his head, teeth bared. Sharp, ready for mating. 

He was going to take your omega. My omega. 

Hermione watched the scene unfold, still unable to move. While Dante was like a cat in the way he pranced around Draco’s attacks, Draco was a wolf. Stalking his prey. She never noticed how thick and broad Draco had become. His debilitating anger caused the muscles in his body to flex and tighten, showing them off to his opponent. But also to his omega. Dante pounced suddenly, using his sharp teeth to rip chunks of flesh from Draco’s shoulder. He growled, seemingly unfazed by the pain. Only focusing on the anger. With a quick flash, Draco’s hand was wrapped around the boy’s throat. It wasn’t an evan match. Draco knew. He was big, muscular, primal. This was a kid who lacked in physical dominance. The tighter Draco’s hand got, the sharper the breaths Dante took were. 

Finally unstuck from her spot, Hermione approached Draco cautiously. Only it wasn’t Draco anymore. The eyes she saw were the same as when she peeked behind her during heat. Alpha. 

“Alpha, please let him go,” She begged, “he’s not worth it, alpha, please. I’m yours.” 

She placed a delicate hand on his shoulder. His eyes flickered back to the Draco she knew before turning steel black once more. She had touched the place she had before. The burning was back. The ache. 

With an animalistic grunt, Draco dropped the boy to the ground. With a sputter, he ran away. Leaving Draco and Hermione alone. Again. 

He pushed her against the desk until her palms were flat and her cheek was pressed against the cool wood. He positioned behind her, unsure.

“Take me, alpha, please. Give me your scent. I was everyone to know I’m yours.” 

She tried to turn around, wanted to look into his eyes when he thrust in. Wanted to see the darkness that begged for her. But a strong hand kept her pressed against the desk. Another hand she could feel fiddling behind her with a belt. She heard the clink of it pooling on the floor and gasped as the thickness of his cock prod at her entrance. For a moment she was glad she had picked such an untouched section of the library. The other part of her wanted everyone to see. Wanted every alpha to see she was taken. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by the plunging thrust that buried Draco’s cock in her. She clenched around him, begging for more. Her throat made indistinguishable sounds as she rocked her hips back to meet every thrust. Her hands clawed at his, trying to get more friction. More something. 

With a growl, he grabbed both of her small hands with one large on and pulled them flush behind her back. It was almost too delicious, he thought. The sight of her bent over a desk in the library, mewling at each trust, totally submissive to him. 

Her muscles were clenching as she felt her release impending. It wasn’t like her heat. There wasn’t an urgency to cum so she could feel normal again. This was different. This was pure pleasure.
“Please, alpha, let me look at you. Let me look at you when you cum, alpha.”

He couldn’t even ground out a no. Instead he continued his violent thrusts and once he felt his cock hit the surface of her cervix, he came with a shout. 

Similar to the corridor, there were no words spoken between then when they prepared to leave. But this time it was a comfortable silence, as if they had merely run out of things to say.

Draco left the corner content in the fact that his omega had let him have her even when she wasn’t in heat.

Hermione left equally as content as the familiar scent of mint followed her out.

Chapter Text

November’s end was quickly approaching and Hermione found herself not dreading her heat as much as she had before. 

In the days following the attack on her, and the subsequent attack on Dante Verona, Hermione’s life dynamics have changed drastically. 

For one, Draco Malfoy refused to let her go to the library herself. When he first finalized this rule Hermione was more than furious. She began to argue, but a stern look and gesture to the bite on his shoulder were enough to shut her up.

Her first trip to the library with Malfoy felt like dragging feet. He’s just going to talk and distract me. I won’t get any work done. Were her first thoughts. 

How pleasantly surprising, then, that Draco sat quietly the entire time. His own book in hand, brows furrowed at the pages. Therefore the only blame Hermione could blame on her distraction was her inability to look away from the man before her. The way he bit his thumb at decidedly humours parts as to not disturb the woman in front of him with his laughs. The way he rubbed his eyes between his thumb and pointer finger to give his eyes a break from reading.  

On one night in particular Hermione had decided to stay in the library until an ungodly hour, far after Pince had closed it down. She offered to Draco that he should go back to his room and rest, that all the students were surely in bed and no threats would come. 

He insisted on staying through and Hermione had a small clench in her heart that perhaps it was less about doing the right thing and more about spending time with her. 

She worked diligently on her DADA homework. All her obsessing about Draco had caused her to fall behind on her personally decided deadlines for assignments and made it a mission to not look up at the blonde until she was fully finished. 

She was just about done when the sound of a small snore caused her to look up. Before her sat Draco Malfoy, head pulling back and forth as his eyes fluttered in a light sleep. Hermione smiled softly at the sight before her. His hair seemed more gold in the dim candlelight than its usual platinum. His eyelashes were unfairly long and surprisingly dark in contrast to his hair as they fluttered. She wondered, for a moment, if he peroxided his hair. Another slight snore made its way past his lips, which immediately drew her attention to his mouth. Plump lips were relaxed and pulled back to reveal the tips of perfect teeth. Automatically she bit her own lip as she remembered the fierceness that his mouth had become when circling Verona. Sharp and bared. 

Just for me, she thought. 

Suddenly the instinct to crawl over the table and curl into his lap like a kitten struck her. She could kiss and lick down his jaw until his teeth had sharpened fully and then she could beg him to bite her. She blushed at the thought and tore her eyes away. 

She had to remind herself that Draco Malfoy was doing this as a favor and nothing more. She had told him herself that she expected nothing else from him and in her mind, that was what made him comfortable enough to agree. 

But then she thought about the “extra” things he had been doing for her. The library trips. Harry or Daphne would have accompanied her if she asked. Or the chaperoning to each class even if his was all the way on the other side of the castle. But he was always there, without fail. 

They had begun to strike up real conversations with each other to break the silence from the long walks. Only simple things like schoolwork or quidditch. But conversations nonetheless. 

He was so much different than she had expected. Well, she really didn’t know what to expect. The boy who once tormented her ruthlessly, who seemed to never shut up, was now a composed man. One that took a moment to ponder before speaking so that what he had to say was always insightful, always agreeable. Part of her missed the banter between them. It seemed he was trying to be careful about what he said around her. Keeping it light, simple. Agreeable. 

Hermione carefully placed her things in her satchel as to not startle the blonde. Delicately she krept around the table and then stopped suddenly. She didn’t know the best way to wake him. Usually with Ron or Harry, she would shake or yell until they were conscious. But she felt that Draco, who had been so gracious to stay with her even in his apparent exhaustion, did not deserve that type of wakeup call. 

Slowly she raised her hand to his cheek, thinking perhaps her touch would gently rouse him from his slumber. She gasped at the contact. It was like fire over the silk of his skin. Did it feel like this with all alphas? It certainly wasn’t like this with Verona and she definitely didn’t feel this when she touched Ron. Instinctively she bent down and rubbed her thumb over his cheek. The fire had spread from her fingertips to the webbing between her fingers and her hand felt as if it would turn numb any second. 

If she kissed him, maybe he wouldn’t know. 

My beautiful alpha. My perfect alpha. 

Her lips were getting close, so close to just grazing his. It was purely scientific, she told herself. Just to see if the fire was everywhere. Mere inches from his face, steel eyes shot open and grabbed her hand against his cheek. She wondered if the panic and shame was as evident on her face as she believed it was. Was the burning in her cheek just the fire spreading or a sign of being caught? 

“What are you doing?” His eyes were innocent and the question came in a whisper. Like a toddler who had just woken from a nap. 

“You.. You fell asleep.” She bit her lip and she could have sworn his eyes glanced to it before shooting back up to meet hers. 

“So I did.” 

“I was just waking you up.”

“So you were.”

“And then I just… couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry.” She tugged her hand away from his cheek begrudgingly. 

The innocent eyes flashed something unfamiliar before turning away. 

“We should get back, I’ll walk you to your dorm.”

“M'kay.” She whispered, saddened by the loss of his gaze.

Look at me, alpha, why don’t you ever want to look at me?

Draco followed behind her as she led the way out of the library. As promised, he walked silently with her all the way to the portrait of the fat lady. He waited until the door was closed before stalking all the way down to the dungeon. 

On the way, he had worked himself up so much he had turned and landed a punch to the cement walls. A startled portrait yelled its distaste for being woken up in such a manner, but Draco ignored it. 

When he had woken up to the touch, he had been floored. She had touched him, again, of her own accord. An intimate touch. She was so close to his face he thought maybe she would kiss him. But then she said she couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help it. Draco balled up his fist. Of course she couldn’t help it. It wasn’t her that wanted to touch him, it was the omega in her. The one that was getting ready for its heat. 

Of course she couldn’t help it. 

--------------------------------

Hermione silently closed the portrait door behind her. Her move had been so stupid. To almost take advantage of him in his sleep just to satisfy a curiosity. 

No, it was more than a curiosity, she told herself. I wanted to kiss him. 

And for a moment, it looked like he wanted to too. She shook her head. He was probably just caught off-guard. 

She moved silently to the girl’s dorm stairs. A small light in the fire caught her eye. Its embers lit up the face of a raven-haired boy who had fallen asleep, book sprawled over his chest. 

“Harry? Harry.” Hermione shook the boy awake. 

Like you should have just done with Draco. 

Harry jumped, book falling from its place on his chest. 

“Oh, Hermione! I must have dozed off.” He was trying desperately to feel for his glasses that had fallen off in his initial shock. 

Hermione handed them to him from the floor, “Has hell frozen over or is Harry Potter reading a book-no-falling asleep reading a book?”

Her tone was noticeably teasing and Harry gave a low, tired chuckle. 

“Yeah, it seems you and Ron are equally as shocked. I was just.. Researching. For you. I mean, for what you are.”

“Oh Harry, you didn’t have to do that!” She gave him a side hug from her place next to him on the couch. 

I wonder if Draco would be mad if he saw me touching Harry. I wonder if he’d get the same feral possessiveness. 

Her knickers were damp just thinking about it. Harry’s voice startled her out of the daydream.

“I noticed you weren’t reading about it. So I figured someone should incase… I don’t know… if you had questions or something.”

“Oh.” Hermione bit her lip. She had purposely avoided omega research. It sounds so out of character, for Hermione to not research something to the point of exhaustion. But this was something she wanted to know little about, something she didn’t want to think about. But something was nagging at her.

“Did you read about.. About the dowries?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think I’ll get offers?”

Harry turned to look at her.

“Do you want offers?”

Hermione looked into the fire embers, still dimly lighting the room. 

“I think it’ll be the easiest option. My parents are gone so the dowry would go to me right? I could use it for something good. Something good to come out of this…” The last word seemed to trail off before she continued. “I’ve already been attacked twice, even with Draco’s… scent on me. It seems almost impossible to think of living a whole life like that so I can pick a good mate. Maybe this is just the best choice.”

“What about Malfoy?”

“What about him?”

“Why not… I mean I’m not saying I love the guy or think he deserves you, but why not just mate with him?”

She smiled sheepishly at her friend. “Just because I’m an omega and he’s biologically drawn to me doesn’t mean he likes me as a person. I’m not.. What I’m saying is, I’m not going to force him into something like this.”

Harry was silent. She stood up from her place on the couch and made her way to the bottom of the staircase. 

“Hermione, what if he wants to?”

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.

“I try not to get my hopes up anymore.”

--------------------------

“HERMIONE GRANGER; THE GOLDEN OMEGA”

It seems the universe has gifted Miss. Granger with another extraordinary task- being the first omega in over a century! My sources say life at Hogwarts has become less about books and more about boys for our golden girl. 

Daphne stopped reading the post, disgusted by Skeeter’s blatant disregard for the truth. Again. She glanced over at the Gryffindor table, where she noticed Harry tearing the front page from the newspaper stack before returning it to an unassuming Hermione. 

I could kiss that boy.

It seemed as though she was the only one unaware of the news as the hall erupted into quiet whispers. The curly haired brunette was too engrossed in her own book to notice. 

Breakfast was left untouched by Daphne as she awaited the squacks of the owls carrying their morning mail. Now that the word was out to virtually the entire wizarding world, she was terrified of the effects. 

As if on cue, the windows ushered in the sounds of approaching birds and they unceremoniously flew through the openings. A small brown barn-owl was struggling to carry the twined stack of envelopes that seemed to be bigger than it was. 

The owl dropped it from a place too high for it to drop in Hermione’s place. Instead, with his seeker reflexes Harry caught the stack and shoved them into his bag. He turned his head to see if anyone was watching his disposal of mail and caught the eye of the blonde across the hall. They shared a knowing look. 

Oh I could definitely kiss that boy. 

Daphne watched him fiddle with something on the table and as he walked out, a paper dove gracefully landed on the empty plate in front of her. 

Astronomy Tower- 9 p.m

H.P

Blaise raised an eyebrow at the secret note, but thankfully did not question it further. 

-------------------

A November night is not exactly one you’d hope to be sitting outside, waiting in. While the air during the day was warmed slightly by the sun, at night it became frigid. Even the grass seemed to be shaking. 

A rustle of fabric behind her caught her attention. She smiled warmly at the boy in front of her, who returned the look eagerly. The temperature didn’t seem so bad at that moment.

“Were they..” 

“Yeah, and a lot of them.” Harry pulled out the stack, now untwined. Each envelope opened.

Daphne took a few from the pile and peeled them open. 

“This bloke is offering 3,000 galleons.”

“This one’s offering 10,000.”

“That’s insane! That’s a low level ministry salary!”

Harry nodded, “I know… But it still doesn’t seem like enough to own someone.”

Daphne nodded too. “There’s no way she’d go for this, right? I mean… She’s Hermione fucking Granger.”

Harry laughed, but his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. “She said she would. She thinks it’s the best option.”

Daphne gasped, blowing out air that puffed into a cloud of smoke. “There’s no way we can let her do this. She’ll be a sex slave-sorry.”

She apologized at the flinch Harry gave at the notion of his friend being coerced.

“I had an idea, but I’ll need your help.”

“Of course, anything.”

“Malfoy.. He’s a good guy. And he… he has quite a bit of money, yeah?”

Daphne tilted her head, “You want me to ask him to offer a dowry?”

“I think we should consider it. I think… I think she likes him. Really likes him. Even without the biological shit. I know it sounds crazy-”

“No, I think it’s brilliant. You’re brilliant.” Harry blushed at the compliment. 

“We can discuss it more if you’d like. I know we both skipped breakfast and dinner, so maybe we could get something to eat?”

“The kitchens are closed, Potter.”

“I know, but the Three Broomsticks isn’t.”

Daphne’s eyebrows raised, though not high enough to cause her forehead to wrinkle. 

“Hogsmead? There’s no way we could get there and back without getting caught.”

Harry’s grin caused her heart to drop in her stomach. Stupid stupid dumb girly feelings. He reached into his bag and pulled out a cloak. The fabric was so intricate and sheer she thought it must be ancient. Opening her mouth to request an explanation, the words were lost as he threw the robes over his head and disappeared. Her eyebrows were now at her hairline.

She reached out a hand and came in contact with a firm chest. Blushing, she pulled the hand away.

“Don’t mind sharing close quarters with me for a walk?”

Daphne laughed, “You can make it up to me by paying for my food.”

Harry wrapped the fabric over Daphne’s head so that they were now face to face under the cloak. 

“Well I always believed the man should pay for the first date.” He winked.

The heart that was now in her stomach had jumped up into her throat and she hoped the darkness of the cloak would conceal the redness in her face. Stupid stupid dumb girly feelings.

Chapter Text

Hermione sat in Potions rubbing the end of a quill over the indentation in her bottom lip. Slughorn was on and oning about various uses of Grassroot Beatles. On a better day, this topic would have excited the girl. But at the moment, she had other pressing matters at hand. 

First, her November heat was expected tomorrow. She and Draco decided the best course of action would be to complete the days lessons then meet at the corridor at night just incase her heat started prematurely. Potions was the last class before they would begin their decent. 

Second, the few days after the library incident were emotionally tolling for Hermione. The night after, she waited at the portrait door patiently for Draco to arrive and escort her. But he never came. Instead, Blaise Zabini was the face she met on the other side of the door. He explained that Malfoy had been feeling under the weather, but didn’t trust to send her off the library without a watchful eye. Especially so close to her heat. 

Zabini was not as agreeable of a library partner. Not so much concerned with academia, he spent the night tapping his long fingers on the wood desk that separated them. Along with dramatic sighs, constant questions, and inappropriate remarks regarding other female classmates patroning the space. She requested to be taken back after only an hour. 

The next day she was pleased to see Draco at the portrait entrance. He had apologized for his absence the day before, reiterating the fact that he has felt unwell and didn’t want to pass it on to her. With an amused smirk he added, “I trust by the timing of Zabini’s return, he wasn’t the best replacement.”

That night they found themselves back in the transfiguration section of the library. As they shared the class, it was mutually beneficial that they worked on the impending assignment together. However, it also meant that the desk they claimed was the sight of the incident. Trying to concentrate on her scroll, she couldn’t help sneaking glances at Draco to see if he was at all affected by their seating arrangement. His furrowed brows were a mask of concentration as he did everything to not meet her eyes, instead focusing all his attention on his own scroll. Hermione’s eyes looked to where his fingers gripped his quill. Long, lean, but she could feel the ghost of them still gripping her hips as he pounded her into the table before them. 

Present day Hermione blushed at the memory of how wet her knickers had been when she returned to her dorm and how little of the assignment she had actually gotten done. 

Diagonal behind her in potions sat Draco, who  watched the feathers of the quill tickle his omega’s lips. The tips of the feathers had started to roll together in the dampness of her saliva. He couldn’t look away. Her lips were so pouty, so full. What would it be like to kiss her? Would she be as passionate a kisser as she is a person? Would she demand control of the kiss? Would she eventually relinquish it to him and melt into his arms? 

“Miss. Granger? I asked you a question. Where is your mind today?”

From where he was sitting Draco could see the blush creeping from her cheeks, down her neck, disappearing into the collar of her shirt. 

How far down does the blush go? Draco’s mind purred. 

He imagined her spread out on a bed. Eyes glassy and hooded, breast bouncing with his every thrust, a red tint spread all the way down to her navel. He would trace the blush with the pad of his tongue, following it down even past her navel before diving into-
“Mr. Malfoy, class has been dismissed. My, my. Where are my students' heads?” Professor Slughorn tsked. 

“I’m sorry, Professor. I’ll be on my way.”

----------------------------

Hermione was first to arrive in the corridor. The coldness of the night had transformed the corridor into somewhat of a freezer. If her nipples were any indication of the temperature. 

Immediately she changed into her nightdress, not having brought appropriate clothing for the cold. When her heat started she wouldn’t be able to feel it anyway. She sat down on the bed and pulled the covers up to her chin, trying to create a layer of protection between herself and the cold. Draco was always warm, she mused. It must be all the years spent in the dungeons that regulated his body temperature. 

As if on cue, the blonde had gently opened the door and made his way in. 

“Merlin’s balls is it cold in here!”

Hermione couldn’t help the small smile that tugged on the corners of her mouth. 

“Think Merlin’s balls are cold?”

“I know mine are now.”

Hermione snapped her head up to find a wolfish grin plastered on the blonde’s face and bubbled laugh escaped her lips. He was never like this, never silly. Always so in control of his actions. She wondered, for a moment, if maybe his feelings had changed the way hers had. A cough broke the smile from his face, but the mirth was still evident in his eyes. 

“You should get some sleep before, er, tomorrow.” He moved to take his usual sleeping spot in the chair but a small voice stopped him.

“You know, you can sleep in the bed. It’s… It’s quite large. A-And it’s too cold for you to not have a blanket. I won’t touch you in your sleep-Oh Merlin not like that, I meant, like, kick you or something. But, really, um, it was nice to have your body heat-” She was stumbling over her words and the curious look he was giving her was doing nothing to gain confidence in her words. 

“I can cast a warming charm you know.”

She didn’t think her cheeks could be more red.

 “Yes of course, I can do it too. I just… We might as well share the bed. We already have sex together for Merlin’s sake.”
Draco pondered this. The bed did look wonderful. Full and plump and warm. 

Like that mouth of hers.

It’s not like he would claim her in his sleep… And his back hurt from sleeping on the chair… 

She was still blabbering about. Saying something with a double meaning, then trying to stutter her way through an explanation. 

“Okay.”

Her mouth hung open as the words she was spilling out came to an end. 

“Okay?”

“Okay, I’ll sleep in the bed.”

“You’ll sleep in the bed?”

“Are you going to repeat everything I say?”

“Am I going to-”

Her words were cut off as he tossed his shirt off and his chest was bared to her. He was all broad muscle and pale smoothness. As he moved to ready himself for bed, Hermione could see the ripples in his abdomen and she had the overwhelming urge to use her nail to trace the line. 

She felt the bed tilt as he laid down, a portion of the covers drawn away from her to fit onto him. 

The omega in her hummed in excitement of the alpha being so close to her. This was different. They had sex, of course, but this… this was intimate. 

“Goodnight, Hermione.”

“Night, Draco.”

------------------------------

When Draco awoke the next morning his alpha was purring. A small form was contorted to his front, a plush ass rubbing deliciously against his morning wood. She was warm and smelled of sweet cherries. 

A growl ripped through him as she adjusted in her sleep, wiggling her bottom even closer to his erection. 

Draco could tell by the sun peaking through the windows that it was still morning. He rose himself, careful not to disturb the sleeping figure before him. As he pulled the covers off of himself, he noticed her nightdress had bunched around her hips in her sleep, leaving a tanned thigh exposed and the bottom of a pink set of cotton panties peeking through. She sighed at the exposer, but didn’t wake. Instead she rolled over onto her back, officially hiking up her dress to where Draco could see a spot of wetness formed on the slit of her knickers. 

With a groan, he begrudgingly covered the girl. His morning wood now a full-blown hard on. The innocence of it all was too much. 

What are you dreaming of, my omega? 

He went to move off the bed when a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. Deep pools of brown were staring back at him, still hazy with sleep. A small smile playing on her lips. 

“I can feel it coming,” The sleepy voice panted. “Please, alpha.”

Ah, so that’s where the wetness came from…

Draco nodded, “Are you ready, my girl?”

Her omega was purring from the endearment, causing her to become even more slick.

“Yes, alpha, I’m ready.”

“Lie on your tummy for me.”

Her eyes were pleading. He knew she wanted to look at him. Well, he knew her omega wanted to look at him. But he couldn’t trust that if she was begging for him with those doe eyes that he could control himself. He had to keep his composure. 

Obediently she flipped herself over and Draco took much care in peeling off her layers of clothes. Her body was flushed from the heat of the blanket and the onslaught of her arousal. She moved to lift her hips up, forming their usual position, but a gentle hand guided her bottom back down to the bed. She tried to glance behind her, but the mass of hair blocked her vision. 

Draco rid himself of his own garments before straddling the panting brunette. It was a glorious sight. He hadn’t even touched her yet and she was beside herself. Hips gyrating against the sheets to try and give any relief to her aching clit. 

He steadied her movements. Her legs were straight and clenched together underneath his, but a red, swollen pussy peered out at him. Carefully, he inched his cock into her folds before sheathing himself in her. 

She gasped at the new sensation. With this position he was stroking every muscle in her, rocking her gently against the sheets. His hands were rubbing soothing circles on her back. This was so different than any other time. It didn’t feel impersonal, even if they still weren’t looking at each other.

A hand reached underneath their joined hips to stroke her clit. It was gentle, too gentle. So gentle she felt like sobbing in both emotional ecstasy and unreleased tension. 

“Please, please, please.” She sobbed, rocking her hips desperately against his. 

“Tell me, omega, tell me what you want. I’ll give you anything you want.”

Her heart and her eyes were fluttering at the words.

Look at me, love me, mark me, protect me, keep me.

Was what she so desperately wanted to say, but all she could make out was a moan as he started to quick his pace, adjusting her hips so he could slide deeper into her and give him more access to her aching clit. 

“Is this it, my sweet girl? This is what you need? Tell me.”

“Yes, alpha, more, please.” Her sobs were getting violent now, she could feel her impending climax with every stroke of his finger against the nestled bud.

Suddenly the pace was animistic, feral. She cried out, voice almost gone from previous sobs.

“See?” He panted “Anything you want. Anything you need, my omega. My sweet girl. I live to please you.”

With his words, the tension snapped. Her back bowed and eyes rolled into the back of her head. She came, hard, harder than she ever had before. Tightening her muscles against his cock. Clenching and unclenching. Until, with a growl, he followed into bliss. 

-------------------

Draco made it a point to ensure she ate all the food the house elves brought them.

In the throws of her heat, it was easy for her to forget to nourish herself. As an alpha, Draco knew his duties to tend to her were more than sexual. 

They sat at the makeshift table. Hermione silently nibbling on a toasted biscuit with jam while Draco sat reading an untitled, leather bound book. 

“What are you reading?” She asked, before she could stop herself. 

He glanced up at her over the spine of the book, “King Lear.”

“A muggle novel?”

His smirk was only just covered by the book.

“A squib novel, technically.”

“There’s no proof of that.”

He shrugged as they fell into silence for a moment. 

“What part are you on?”

“Cordelia has refused to tell her father she loves him in exchange for riches and land.”

“Unhappy that I am, I cannot heave my heart into my mouth. I love your majesty.”

Draco closed the book and set it onto the table as Hermione finished her biscuit. 

“Big Shakespeare fan?” 

“My parents were. They named me after a character in The Winter’s Tale.”

Draco frowned and watched her fiddle with the empty plate that once held her food.
“Were? My condolences, I had no idea-”

“Oh! No, no. They’re not dead. I-I…” She bit her lip and looked away, out the window. “I had to obliviate them at the start of the war. It wasn’t safe for them. I don’t know where they are now. Somewhere in Australia.”

“Why not try and find them? Restore their memories?”

“I.... I wouldn’t know where to start. Australia is so big… It’d take me years to find them. And even if I did, who knows what they would be like? If they would be happy? Sometimes I think it’s better…”

They fell into a sad silence. 

“I was orphaned by the war, too. But mine are dead. I can’t imagine not knowing.” 

“I’m sorry, Draco, how insensitive of me! Your parents, of course…”

He waved her off. 

“The war made orphans out of many of us. Mine did awful… awful things. You shouldn’t feel bad.”

A small hand was placed in his, but nothing was said. 

Time passed as they worked on their assignments, stopping ever so often to soothe her heats or converse about an interesting topic. 

The sun set on them abruptly and the lips of Hermione’s eyes were heavy with sleep. Draco looked unsure about his sleeping arrangements for a moment, until a small tug of her hand led him to the bed with her. In the dark, in the silence, he listened to her breathing. He was convinced she was asleep, but a voice broke through the silence.

“Draco, are you going back to the manor for Christmas?”

“No,” He answered immediately. “I’ll be here.”

Before she drifted to sleep he heard her whisper, “Good, I was hoping to spend it with you.”

His heart clenched in his chest.

Chapter Text

It was the last hour of her November heat. To say she wasn’t thrilled about returning to their regular lives would be an understatement. The past three days had been, for lack of a better word, heavenly. 

Between the shagging, eating, and school-work the pair found themselves engrossed in conversations and friendly debates. 

She found herself telling everything to him and he to her. His favorite color was green ( of course, she thought), while hers was lavender.

“What? Not a Gryffindor red?” He teased.

“What? Haven’t seen enough green for a lifetime?” She had shot back

He asked her about growing up with Muggles, when did she know she was a witch, what did she plan to do after Hogwarts?

In turn, she learned how lonely life was in such a large manor as an only child. How he had almost had a little sister before his mother miscarried. His first time riding a broom. That he wanted to create a system of turning potions into muggle-like pills for easy consumption and storing. 

Hermione found herself, her real self and not just her omega, purring at the information. So much so that now in the last hour of their time together for month she wanted to cry at the impending loss. 

The blonde in question was sitting just across the room in his usual chair, finishing off King Lear. She had noticed that when he was stuck on a particularly vague blank verse, he would mouth the words aloud and run his tongue over the bottoms of his teeth in concentration. With a blush, an image of what else she’d like his tongue to run over flashed in her mind. 

He was quite an enigma. One moment he would be silly and sweet, charming and personable. Then she noticed if she got too close to him or looked at him for too long he demeanor would change. He would become closed off and silent.

In her heart, the omega begged for her to mate with him. He was gentle and doting during her spikes in heat. Making sure she ate, she bathed, she slept. Her brain, however, saw his coldness as rejection. Hermione was always one to trust her brain over her heart. 

She noticed him running his tongue over the swell of his upper lip and couldn’t stifle the groan that rose from her belly. Silver eyes snapped up to meet hers. 

“Your heat?” He questioned concerned, already setting his book down. 

“My heat! Yes, um, yes. It’s not bad, though, there’s only a few minutes left. I’ll be fine.” 

But he was already kneeling in front of her, spreading her knees open.
With ease of confidence, Draco peeled the already soaked panties from her core and tossed them aside. She could feel his breath on the lips of her pussy, hot and wispy. Her eyes seemed to roll back on their own accord as she moaned.

Draco was entranced. He had never been so close to her center before. Sex was off limits so close to the end of her heat. He would knot and he didn’t trust himself not to fully insert it in her. Instead, he figured the best course of action would be to fulfill her heat with his tongue. It was safe. With his head between her legs he wouldn’t have to look into those eyes. Those doe eyes. The ones that haunted his dreams. The ones that begged him to bite her right on that swollen spot, claiming her as his. 

No, Draco thought, I’ll keep my eyes elsewhere.

Her hips were already gyrating against the wood of the chair. Her pussy was near red, dripping, and with a groan he realized; bare. 

He testily poked out his tongue to trace the trail of her slit. What sounds she wanted to make were caught in her throat as he parted her nether lips in search of the delicate bud. His hands trailed up the delicate skin of her thigh to latch onto her hips and keep them in place. Did he dare sneak a peek up at her face?

Her eyes were shut ( thank god, he sighed) and her head was flung back. Curls spilled over the back of the chair and Draco longed to reach out a hand and take a fistful. Her mouth was open, but silent, and her cheeks were flushed the same color as it had been in Slughorn’s class. To experiment, he dragged the pad of his tongue down her slit to dip into her center. He was rewarded with a low moan and a whispered alpha that tumbled from her lips. 

Draco averted his eyes and instead focused on the mound in front of him. He expertly flicked, sucked, and teased her until her back was arched off the chair and he was sure if not for his hands keeping her steady, she would be falling to the floor in pleasure. He expertly added one finger, then two. Keeping his tongue’s focus explicitly on the nub while his hands pumped easily into and out of her opening. 

She was panting and he knew she was close. She was chanting alpha like a prayer, promising herself to him if he would just let her-

And then she screamed. A high-pierced, whimpering scream that was cut by a sob in her throat. His heart was swelling in his chest watching her fall apart. The hips he was holding onto for dear life was shaking. Her hands clenched the table in front of her and her knuckles were white with the strain of it. Her eyes were still shut tight and her whole body was convulsing, her mouth muttering unintelligibly. 

His grip slipped from her hips and in her convulsing, she fell into his waiting arms. Her bottom was once again pressed against his groin, but this time only his trousers separated them. He could feel her slick drenching him.

Alarm bells were blazing in his head. Her neck was right in front of his face. Her scent, in the aftermath of her orgasm, was blinding. And that swollen section of her neck was pulsing as she panted for air. Dangerous, dangerous, he needed to get out of there. 

Reluctantly, he stood up with her in his arms and settled her on the bed where she controlled her breathing. She watched with a frown as he began to pack his belongings. She had hoped he’d want to stay, at least for a little bit. The Draco who had just given her her first oral experience, who had held her and stroked her and cared for her for three days, now seemed in a panic to get out. 

He had to pass the bed to get out. She was on her knees, winding her hands together. Just as he was about to make his way to the door, the familiar feeling of her hand on his wrist stopped him. 

He didn’t look at her, he couldn’t. She was still nude. Her curls would be wild, her lips swollen and pouty, her rosy nipples taunt in the cold. How could he control himself if he looked?

The hand used the leverage to pull the body attached to it to the edge of the bed. He could feel the heat of her body against his arm. 

Don’t look, don’t look, oh Merlin, don’t look. His mind begged him. But the alpha inside begged him to, begged him to take her, to let her fulfill all those promises she had just given him. 

She didn’t promise, he reminded his alpha, her omega did. 

The alpha curled away and slumped in defeat. 

Suddenly, a pair of soft lips were against his cheek. Her breath was sweet and hot against the delicate skin of his face. 

“Thank you, alpha.” Came the whisper against his cheek. 

He could only nod. And then, as quickly as it came, the heat was gone as she hurried into the conjoining bathroom. With one last look into the room, with a greedy gulp of cherry mint scented air; he left. 

In the bathroom, her omega was sobbing and so was she. Her whole body felt like it was in a panic. 

Why won’t he look at me, why doesn’t he want me? Why won’t you look at me, alpha? Am I not good enough? Do I not please you enough? 

Her body was wracking with the desperate need to comfort from an alpha. From her alpha. From Draco. 

The faucet of the shower turned on and drenched her in ice cold water. It was like a knife that sliced off the second weak skin she had grown. Who had she become? She was Hermione Granger. First in her class, war heroine, brightest witch her age. She was all of that way before she was an omega. 

A still shaking hand swiped water away from her face. 

If Hermione Granger wanted an alpha; for Merlin’s sake she was going to get him. She just didn’t know how. 

---------------------------------

Returning to the Slytherin dorms after the days spent with Hermione was not a joyous occasion. After three days of being surrounded by the scent of cherry and mint from their constant shagging, it was like ripping a bandaid off when the musk of the dungeons hit his nose. He was already in a horrible mood. 

Not to mention that kiss. Oh Merlin, that fucking kiss. Those lips. That breath. The warmth. 

His alpha was purring, laying out like a cat in the sun as it basked in the glory of her unexpected affection. 

Did this mean she wanted him? Even without her omega pulling the strings? 

Daphne was sat on the leather of the lounge chair, a leg perched over the arm rest as a finger twirled a lock of blonde hair. 

Blaise was sprawled out on the carpet in front of her on his back. The closer Draco got he could see they were both reading. But, not books. He squinted his eyes to look further. There were letters. Dozens. Hundreds. Scrolls, envelops, cards all neatly stacked and all… opened.

“Did you raid an owlry? Merlin.” He said, stepping delicately over the notes around his feet. He said on the opposite chair of Daphne. 

Her eyes were wide, “Draco, I thought Hermione’s heat wasn’t supposed to end for another few hours!”

In opposition, his eyes narrowed, “It started early… What about these letters makes you so unhappy to see me?”

Before she could answer, Blaise was tossing a piece of parchment in his direction, “Your girlfriend has some admirers.”

“Not my girlfriend.” He quickly shot back as he unfolded the note. 

To the Omega Granger, 

Before I proceed I’d like to say that I am an avid supporter of you and your efforts during the war. Us here in France are very aware of your bravery. I’ve recently been informed of your omega status. I’m sure you know how rare such a creature is. I’d like to offer my services to you, as well as a stipend of 12,000 galleons in exchange for your biological-

Draco looked away, disgusted. Hermione Granger, a creature? 

“Where did you get these?” Draco gasped angrily, his nostrils flaring. 

His alpha was growling now, nails sharp and pulled forward. Ready to pounce. 

“Harry’s been.... intercepting her mail… We were worried that if she got a hold of them-”

“What? You think Hermione Granger would sell herself for 12,000 galleons?”

“This one is for 20,000, mate. I’d sell myself for that kind of money.” 

Draco and Daphne both glared at their dark friend, who seemed unfazed by their lack of amusement. 

“She’s already mentioned it. She thinks… She thinks it’s a good option. But, it’s not! She doesn’t understand the repercussions. She’s thinking arranged marriage when it’s more…”

“Sexual slavery?” Blaise offered, tearing open another letter.

“Yes, thank you,” her tone was anything but thankful, “We… I mean Harry and I… We've been trying to save time and think of a way to stop her. We...We think you should put in an offer.”

“An offer?” Draco’s eyes seemed on the cusp of bulging out of his head.

“Yes... You can offer her more galleons. We can do it anonymously. She’ll accept your offer and then when she sees it's you, she'll be so happy!"

“So you want me to trick her into accepting my offer. Then how does that make me any different than these fucking hundreds of other alphas that are taking advantage of the situation?” He was huffing now, the note crumbling in his hand. 

“Because you’re so clearly perfect for each other,” Daphne exasperated, her hands swinging in the air wildly. “Are you really telling me you don’t feel anything for her besides lust? After everything?”

“Of course I do!” he barked back without thinking. “But this is hardly about me, isn’t it?” 

“But it is! You're the alpha she chose, Draco, it's you she wants-”

“It’s not me! You know what she calls me? When I’m fucking her? Alpha. Not Draco, not even Malfoy. Alpha. It could be anyone…” 

He took a breath to steady his hammering heart. He ran a hand through his locks and tugged at them in frustration. 

“I’m not going to trick her. I’m not going to offer her money in exchange for her compliance. I am better than that. I am better than them.” He tossed a hand towards the open letters.

“Fine! Don’t! But then don’t get upset when she’s marked by Mr. 20,000 galleons and you can’t have her anymore!” Daphne was now standing right in front of him, a fingernail pressed into his chest. 

With a growl he stalked past her and up to his room. Just because he wasn’t going to offer her money doesn’t mean she wouldn’t pick him. She was smart. Sensible. She would be his. The right way. 

At the same time, at the foot of the stairs, Daphne was biting her lip. Had she pressed him too far? We need a plan B, she thought. 

Grabbing her satchel from her sitting area, she glanced over at Blaise.

“I’m going to go talk to Harry.”

A small smile played on his lips, “So I noticed… it’s Harry now is it? I've wondered why you've been so absent. Tell me, lovely Daphne, does the savior of the world have a big dick too? I’d imagine that would be quite unfair to the rest of the male population.” 

Her lips were turned in a sneer, but her eyes sparkled something else, “Someone once told me that sometimes the universe is fair… I guess not for the male population.”

She strode out of the common room, a gaping Blaise in her wake. 

Chapter Text

She found him as she always did: in the stands of the Quidditch pitch. His dark hair was blowing in only the way a first snow wind could do. 

“Hello, Harry.”

A dazzling smile, “Hi, Daphne.”

“Waiting for me long?” She took a seat on the cold wood next to him. 

“I’d wait forever if I had to.” A wink, followed by a kiss on the lips. 

This is how they greeted each other, always. A deja vu of their first liplock some time ago, the day after their meeting in the astronomy tower. It was Harry who had suggested the pitch as a meeting place. It was the farthest place from the castle and during the winter months completely vacant. At first, Daphne had begrudgingly agreed. What was with this boy and being outside in such frigid weather? 

But then she saw him the first time. His thick, cropped hair swaying in the wind. A pink tint to his cheeks. The constant swipe of the tongue to keep his mouth moist in defence of the cold wind. That was how she kissed him the first time. Or maybe he kissed her. Or perhaps it didn’t matter. Since then, her trips outdoors were not as daunting. 

If you asked Harry, of course he would say he rationalized the pitch as the best meeting ground for its distance in relation to the castle. But it didn’t hurt how adorable Daphne looked as she tried to tame her blonde locks in the wind. 

The kiss was unhurried and warm. So different from the kisses he had shared with Ginny during the war. Those kisses were rushed. Having to put everything, every emotion into a kiss because you didn’t know when you’d see each other again. If you ever would. In the year after the war, their romance was brief but lovely. Their parting was amicable, a loss of feelings between them both. Perhaps he had put so much into those beginning kisses he didn’t have much else to give.

Kissing Daphne was like breathing. Simple, natural, but needed. 

“Talk to Malfoy then?” 

Her face was a grimace of shame of frustration, “He caught us. Blaise and I, with the letters. He won’t put in an offer. He seems to think if he does, he’s no better than the rest of them.”

“Who would have thought Malfoy would be so… valiant?” 

Daphne gave him a small smile. She had known Draco her whole life, practically in diapers. There were pictures of the two of them in the hospital holding Astoria just after she was born. Big, toothy grins on toddlers faces as they held her up. Before they knew about war or darkness. In her mind, everyone saw him as the boy Death Eater. The would-be Dumbledore slayer. She didn’t. She saw him as that grinning boy who helped her hold her sister for the first time. 

“He’s changed, you know. So much. I know you question my judgment when it comes to him… I know you’d rather anyone else for your friend. But he’s different. So much different…” Her voice trailed off. 

No, Daphne, I think this is how he’s always been.

He would never say it aloud. After Snape’s death, Harry saw light and dark not as two stark opposites, but with a gray middle. Snape, though he did it all for the greater good, did unspeakable things in the name of preservation. As has Draco. As has Harry. 

But Draco’s actions had spoken for themselves. Harry was there when he lowered his wand to Dumbledore. How he purposely didn’t name Harry at his manor. How he relinquished control of his wand to Harry in the final battle. No, Draco hadn’t changed. He was always the grey in the middle. But Daphne didn’t like to talk about the war. And that was fine. Neither did Harry. So instead, he reached a hand out to cup the back of her neck, stroking soothing circles with his thumb. 

“She’s your friend too now.”
“Oh god,” she huffed, “I’ve surrounded myself with Gryffindors.”

“On purpose.” His grin was absolutely shit eating and he made a move to kiss her again. 

“Nah ah, we still need a plan. We won’t be able to hide these letters forever. We’re both going home for the holidays.” 

Harry frowned and gazed out at the pitch. “No chance of just locking them in a closet until they choose each other?”

“Harry, love, they’re locked in a room for three days at a time with each other and still have had no breaththrough. I tried to tell Draco she feels for him, but he didn’t believe it. I’m sure Granger will be the same. They’re just…”

“Too alike?” 

“It’s driving me fucking bonkers.”

The wind had picked up as the sun began to set. Daphne scooted closer and pressed her face against the dark haired boy’s shoulder. They were silent as they watched the orb fall down from the sky to hide behind the mountains in the distance. 

“I always wanted to be an omega. My mother used to tell me I was too… nothing to be a first choice bride. Not as beautiful or as elegant as Astoria...”

“Daph-” Harry tried to interject, nudging her face from his shoulder to look into her eyes.

“She said the best thing that could happen to me was to present. Then I could have anyone I wanted. Anyone. She said if I didn’t present, no alpha would take a serious look at me. And then… And then when I met you, I knew it was you. Humble, but brave. Loyal and gentle. I thought for sure you’d be an alpha. I… I knew you’d have girls after you anyways, being the chosen one and all. I thought if I could just be an omega you’d choose me.”

She didn’t know when she started to cry, but she did. She cried for herself. For Draco. For Hermione. For Harry. 

“But you picked me anyway, Harry. And watching what Hermione is going through… I feel so guilty I ever cried for not being able to have it. She deserves to be able to feel what I feel. The knowing that you’re being chosen for who you are. Not what you are.”

Harry knew from being friends with Hermione, from dating Ginny, from the motherly advice of Molly; sometimes the best thing to say to a crying woman is nothing at all. He shushed her as she cried, even if he didn’t understand what for. And as the moon began to rise through the rafters of the pitch, he guided her back to the castle. 

He led her back to her dorm, and kissed her softly in front of the disproving portrait. 

“We’ll figure it out, I promise.” He whispered against her lips. 

As she began to walk through the opening she heard her name being called by the boy who had just begun to leave. 

“Yes, Harry?”

“I just wanted to let you know....You are the most beautiful, non-elegant woman I have ever met. And in a room with you and a hundred omegas, it would be you.” 

-----------------------

Hermione Granger was doing what Hermione Granger did best: reading. 

Atop the library table was a mountain of books of various ages, bound in leather and had the comforting scent of vanilla flowers and almonds that could only come from the breakdown of chemical compounds in an old book. It was a familiar smell. It was a safe smell. She let it surround her and absorb the mint smell that would only cause to distract her. 

Every book on alphas and omegas were written exclusively by alphas. Surprise, surprise. It had wording such as “they want” or “they need” and Hermione scoffed. How could they possibly know? 

But Draco knows what you need, her brain told her. 

And it was true. He knew when her heats were reaching its peak, knew when she needed her hair moved away from her face, knew when she was hungry, knew when she was thirsty. Her alpha knew what she needed, what she wanted. Maybe even better than she knew herself. 

“Thought I told you library is off limits without a chaperone?” A voice above her said.

Hermione glanced up over the spine of the book, but she didn’t need to look. The smell of mint was overpowering now, so much stronger than the books. His face was bemused and light, but his tone was serious. 

“I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit me.” She responded, but he was already making himself comfortable across the table from her. 

“Yes, of course. I could be off chasing tails with Blaise,” Hermione’s omega had its claws out, hissing at the notion of her alpha with someone else, “but I’m not much of a wingman.”

A wingman? So he wouldn’t be looking for himself? Her omegas claws pulled back, laying down submissively in her subconscious once more. 

“He seems to do just fine on his own. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him without a hickey.” 

“Figure he should just get them tattooed.”

Hermione barked in laughter, but quickly bit her lip to stifle the sound from the glare of Madam Pince. 

“That would be stupid. What happens if he changes and now he has these silly marks to remind him?”

It was the wrong thing to say. As soon as she said it, she knew it was the wrong thing to say. His face was no longer bemused and playful, instead his eyes were downcast and his lips formed a tight line on his face.

“Malfoy, I didn’t mean--”

He waved her off as if it was nothing, but his face gave him away. “It’s fine, really. Not everyone is as stupid as me.”

She wanted to say something, anything to make him feel better. Her omega was no longer in submission to her. Instead it was clawing at her heart and her lungs.

You upset your alpha. Fix it, fix it, fix it. He’ll never want you now. 

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Instead, he continued. 

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” His voice was quiet, if they weren’t in a quiet library she swore she would have never heard it. 

“You don’t need to--”

“No, no… I do. I… I’m sorry for it all. I’m sorry for the way I treated you for all those years I’m sorry… for not helping you when you were in the manor. If I could take it all back, if I hadn’t been so cowardly… That’s all it means to me now. The mark. I’m not ashamed because I did anything wrong. I want you to know that, I never hurt anyone. Ever. I wouldn’t. I’m ashamed because I wasn’t strong enough to say no to it.”

His hands were on the desk, palms flat to steady himself, and she longed to reach out and grab them. 

“You’re no coward, Malfoy. You were a child… A child with an impossible choice. I don’t… I don’t blame you for what’s happened. I… I wouldn’t have let you touch me like you do if I did.”

Her hands were twitching to touch his.

“Gran-Hermione… Was I…”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t need to say anything further. He had been her first. It’s not as if she was waiting until marriage or needed it to be special and romantic. For her, it just never happened. She could joke and say she was too busy with the war, but so were Harry and Ron. And they had always made time for that section of their life. In truth, she was just scared. Sex was something you could read about and learn in a scientific sence. What goes where, when. But the actual action… You have to experience it to know. And what if she was bad at it? Hermione Granger did not like being bad at things. 

But in her heat, when she could barely form sentences because her body felt like it was ripping apart in her need, it didn’t feel like she was a virgin. It felt like she was a panting, writhing mess who needed to be filled until she could feel the trusts of a cock deep in her belly. Her omega was mewling softly. 

“I don’t regret you being my first.” She said suddenly. 

He wouldn’t look at her. She was used to that; him not wanting to look at her. But this was different, it felt different. She knew he wasn’t looking, not because he didn’t want to see her, but rather he didn’t want her to see him. 

“I didn’t… I don’t deserve it.” He said softly, his hand unconsciously twitched to cover his left forearm. This time, she did reach her hand out to place it on top of his.

“Let me see it,” she whispered.

Draco wasn’t sure what it was. The sincerity in her voice, empty of any judgment or pity. The burning her touch gave him. The way his alpha was crawling to the forefront of his mind at her smell. Or maybe… Maybe he was just ready to show someone. 

He rolled his sleeve up to his elbow and unceremoniously dropped it onto the table in front of Hermione. The dim candlelight highlights a no-longer black, but still heavily raised scar. It was white and bulging, as if it had been cut into his skin and opened over and over until the scar was raised and stretched. 

He couldn’t look at her. How could he? If he saw what was in her eyes, he would surely lose himself.  Anger? Hate? Pity? Or worse, disappointment? 

He felt a nail trailing the sensitive skin of the scar, around the head of the skull. Down the snake’s head, before finding its way to his wrist. Her whole hand closed around it.
“Look at me.” 

The voice was whispered beg. It wasn’t the way she begged for him to look at her when she was in heat. It was a… plea. Like if he didn’t look, her whole world would shatter. So he did. 

His breath caught in his throat at her eyes. Those doe eyes that haunted his dreams and his fantasies. Those eyes he couldn’t dare look into as he sunk into her, lest he lose control and mark her as his. Those eyes he was so frightened just a moment ago would be filled with a negative emotion, were burning with something different. He didn’t even know what.

It was the way his mother looked at him as a child when he was hurt. Like she would do anything, move any mountain, to make him feel better. Like she would take it from him if she could. 

“It’ll never heal?” Her eyes were burning into him and he couldn’t tear himself away. 

“No. It’ll always be with me. It’ll always be who I am.”

She shook her head, eyes soft, “It’s not you. Not anymore. Maybe it never was.”

After that, they fell into a deep silence. Neither daring to speak, to crack the foundation they had just laid. The night was falling around them and Pince let them know the library was about to be closed. Carefully, they both packed their things and made for the door. 

As always, Draco walked her to her dorm portrait to see her off. At this point he knew his scent was more than enough to keep her safe from any wondering alpha. Deep down, he had already come to terms with the fact that this was just an excuse to be around her. 

“Cattywampus.” 

The door swung open and he bid her a goodnight before turning. 

“Malfoy?” 

“Hmm?” 

He didn’t dare turn around. 

“I forgive you.”

The door shut. 

Draco Malfoy did not cry. On his hand he could count every single time he’s shed a tear after his toddler age, when Lucius distilled in him that men don’t cry. One, when his mother lost his sister. Two, when he was given the mark. Three, after he watched Hermione tortured in his home. And now again, when she had forgiven him for it all.

Chapter Text

The first snow had blanketed the grown of Hogwarts in December. 

It was perfectly sticky, but not too solid. The majority of the Hogwarts students raced outside after their final classes for the afternoon and began to magic snowballs together that would fly through the air to its target. There was laughter, icy eyelashes, and rosy cheeks all around. 

But Draco Malfoy hated snow. 

Instead, he took to the library in search of resources for Hermione’s Christmas present. After his talk, or rather his spat, with Daphne over he stayed brooding in his room for hours. Hermione is a smart girl, not someone who would sell themselves off for convenience. She would make the right choice. The sensible choice. 

But how? 

“Don’t think too hard, mate, you look like you’ll combust.”

Draco glanced up at the uninvited noise. “Blaise. Didn’t expect you to be here.”

The dark man shrugged and took his seat across from the blonde. A fingernail was pulling at a piece of splintered wood on the table and Draco scowled at the fact that not only was he being interrupted, but that the indecent noise was stopping him from focusing. 

“All of my clothes are tailored. Can’t afford for them to get wet,” he shrugged, “I expected you to be here with Granger and thought I’d keep you two company. But alas, it seems she’s nowhere to be found.”

The alpha in Draco was baring its teeth at Blaise’s. 

“And what could you possibly be looking for Granger for?” 

“Put your teeth away, I said I was looking for both of you. Merlin, what does omega quim do to a psych?”

Draco slumped down in his chair, satisfied with the lack of threat. “Don’t be so vulgar. I’m surprised you’re not up on your hind legs at me like the rest of Hogwarts’s alphas.”

“Be serious, Draco. She constantly smells like you… And while that may not be a total deterrent for most, I lived with you through your Quidditch years during puberty.  All I can think of when I smell her is stiff socks.” Blaise made a fake gagging noise in the back of his throat. “I’m actually glad I caught you alone. I’m sorry about Daphne before, she’s just a little passionate. She wants you to be happy--”

“Yes, at the expense of a girls choice. When did I become the feminist here?”

“I think what she’s getting at is that you two feel a certain way towards each other--”

“She doesn’t feel that way for me.”

“Oh really, you’ve asked?”

“I could ask you the same question, Blaise, have any of you asked her how she feels about this? About me?”

Blaise raised his hands up in surrender. If there was one thing that Malfoy had hung onto even after his character transformation it was his temper and stubbornness. Which, incidentally, did not go hand in hand. 

“Okay, we won’t talk about her feelings. We’ll talk about yours.”

“There’s nothing to talk about--”

“Oh, yeah? So tell me,” he snatched the book out of Draco’s hands, “ this isn’t a ploy for affection?”

Draco snatched the book back, a scowl on his face. 

“I’m merely showing her there are good alphas out there. Ones she doesn’t need to be paid to be with.”

Blaise tapped his chin with his finger, “So, let's say Granger decides to hell with the offers. What if she picks, say, me to mate--”

He couldn’t finish his sentence as the blonde before him dove across the table and latched his hand onto his throat.

“ You do not talk about her like that.”

“Alright, alright let me down!” 

Draco’s hands fell from his throat as Blaise raised his own to soothe the offended area. 

“So now tell me again how you don’t have feelings for her?”

“I never said I didn’t,” Draco snapped, “It’s just… complicated.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow that invited his friend to continue.

“I’ve done so much… so many bad things, Blaise. So many of them to her. I watched her be tortured and almost killed on my floor and did nothing to stop it--”

“Those are all reasons for her to not like you. Which, Mr. Feminist, she can decide on her own. What about her is making it so hard for you to admit how you feel? Omega biology bullshit aside.”

“Bullshit aside? Merlin, nothing,” Draco ran a hand through his hair. “But, I mean, she’s Granger. She’s a know-it-all, swotty bint who gets herself into trouble and drags everyone along with it. She’s messy, has no manners, and of course my parents would strike me down if they knew what I was doing with her. Why should I like her?”

Blaise paused.

“But… you do.”

“I do. So much.”

Blaise retrieved his bag as he stood from the chair. “We leave for Christmas break in a few days. Potter, Daphne, and I will all be gone. There will be no one to catch her mail. She will get those offers. Put on the Malfoy charm and show her none of them matter…”

Before leaving the area, he turned to his friend one last time.
“I’ll help you set up a portkey before I leave. She’ll love it.”

Draco couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. His whole body felt lighter. Finally, out loud, he had admitted his feelings. And he wasn’t struck down. He wasn’t laughed at. There was no disgust. 

For the first time in a long time, it felt like he was just a normal boy in love. Not a Death Eater. Not a Malfoy. Normal, simple, amazing. 

-------------------------------

The December days following the talks between Hermione, Draco, Daphne, and Harry were cold, wet, and full of contentment. 

Hermione had never had a real commitment to being with a boy. She knew logic. She understood rules. Emotions were not among those she understood. She didn’t have her Mother to ask for advice, she lost her closeness with Ginny after the redhead assumed Hermione was taking Harry’s side over the breakup, and she supposed she could talk to Daphne… but, it seemed her and Harry were now attached at the hip. 

So she turned to the only other friend she knew: Madam Pince. Or, rather, Madam Pince’s book recommendations. 

The Foolproof Guide to Landing a Man

Get the Guy: Inside the Mind of a Man

How to Get a Man Without Getting Played

Pince found them in almost record time, which caused Hermione to speculate she had them on hand. 

She learned a few starter rules. 

Get some alone time, incorporate yourself in their everyday life, show interest in their life. That wasn’t a hard feat. He would accompany her to the library every night, which she made sure of even if she had no work to do. They’d sit at a vacant table, away from the remainder of the library patrons, and talk for hours. 

It was going just the way she hoped. But now she couldn’t find Malfoy anywhere. And it was their library time. 

He wasn’t in the Great Hall for lunch, not in the Slytherin Common Room with Daphne, not in the snow, and she huffed as she checked the potions classroom. Not there either. 

Maybe he’s already waiting for me in the library!

The thought made her warm. It made her omega purr and nuzzle her subconscious. Maybe he was just as excited to be with her as she was with him. 

She all but raced to the entrance of the library on the fourth floor. She could smell him before she could see him. The grin that covered her face would be described as shit-eating. He was here!

She moved to step around a bookcase to make herself known, when she heard another voice with him. The voice smelled of sandalwood and pine. Blaise. She scrunched up her brow, Blaise never came to the library. 

“.... .What about her is making it so hard for you to admit how you feel? Omega biology bullshit aside.”

She held her breath, they were talking about her. She pressed her ear against the gaps between the books. Their voices were so low she could barely make out what they were saying. But she needed to know. She needed to her him.

“...I mean, she’s Granger. She’s a know-it-all, swotty bint who gets herself into trouble and drags everyone along with it. She’s messy, has no manners, and of course my parents would strike me down if they knew what I was doing with her. Why should I like her?”

There are moments in your life when you feel your organs melt and fall onto the floor. When there’s pins in your throat and you can feel the lack of oxygen in your lungs pressing into the back of your eyes. She couldn’t hear anymore after that, the blood was pumping in her ears. 

On unsteady feet she left the library, not sure where she was supposed to go now. 

Know-it-all.

Swot.

Messy.

Unmannered.

Why should I like her?

The first sound she heard was a choked sob, did that come from her? It sounded so far away. 

In a vacant hallway her knees finally gave out, she slid to the ground. 

Her omega was silent, as if the rejection was too much for it to bear coming forward. It was hiding. It was running away from the alpha who didn’t want her. 

Hermione realized the sobs were her own. She wasn’t an omega crying over an alpha. She was Hermione Granger, in love with Draco Malfoy. A normal girl who just had her heart broken. Normal, hurt, broken. 

Chapter Text

“Promise you’ll write to me.”

The highlands of Scotland was already thick with snow by the time mid-December rolled around. The air was brisk and unrelenting. Daphne and Harry begrudgingly gave up their pitch meeting place in exchange for a spacious broom closet for their “meetings”, in which they would return still with pinked cheeks and swollen lips as if they had ventured out in the snow. 

In days after Hermione’s audible peep show in the library, she had kept her chin high and her hopes low when it came to Draco Malfoy. No longer did she meet him in the library. No more long walks alone to her corridor. 

He had approached her in the Great Hall after two days of being stood up. He was met with a friendly, tight lipped smile from Harry and two matching glares from Hermione and Ron. 

 She hadn’t the decency to let him know they wouldn’t be meeting anymore. When he said as much, she denied the accusations. 

“I believe I was only to tell you when I was going to the library, not if I wasn’t.”

The look in his eyes was hurt, so unfamiliar to see in the lights of his iris. Though as soon as it was there, it was gone. Replaced with a steeled grey and stomped back to his respective table, his own scowl in place. 

She hadn’t seen him since then and if she was being honest, she missed him. In the classes they shared, she purposely took greedy gulps of air that held his scent. Once, he had left his cloak in potions draped over the stool. Hermione packed slowly until the rest of the class filed out, then shoved the “lost” piece of clothing into her satchel. 

She slept with it each night since then. It made her heart steady and her dreams pleasant. How pathetic it was she relied so heavily on his scent. 

In DADA Nico Paley, a Hufflepuff alpha, had taken the vacant seat next to her. Hermione had initially panicked being so close to an alpha that wasn’t, well… her alpha. 

Malfoy isn’t your alpha, she reminded herself, he doesn’t even like you.

But then she caught the cold grey stare that he tried to mask from the corner of his eye. Angry. Possessive. She shivered at the look. 

Serves him right. 

Paley was a perfect gentleman. All the books on omega biology she had read hinted at the fact that she wouldn’t be able to contain herself around other alphas while she was unmated. 

When Paley had placed himself so close, she wasn’t as disgusted with his scent as she was with Dante’s but found no other bodily response other than an olfactory appreciation. 

Was it because she was strong or because she had already chosen an alpha?

Hermione had laughed as something Paley said and stole a glance to the blonde ever so often, he jaw was clenched painfully and his knuckles were white around his quill. On one particular occasion, Draco had been late to History of Magic. He was huffing as he burst through the door. The way his chest rose and fell with each breath, the ruffle of his hair, the pinkness to his face made Hermione’s cunt throb. It was exactly how she pictured he’d look rearing up over her as he fucked her.

The rest of the class had already been seated. With pursed lips, Professor Binns instructed him to take the vacant spot next to Hermione. 

They didn’t speak, but several times Draco caught himself leaning to the witch’s heat on his left. Later, he had a rather unsatisfying wank in the shower to the image of her tanned thighs crossing and uncrossing themselves next to him. 

Now it was time for their friends to part ways for the winter break. True to his word, Draco had stayed behind. Unconsciously, Hermione’s omega purr rippled through her mind. Had he stayed for her? Or because he didn’t want to be alone? 

No, Blaise had offered to take him to his Italian villa. He stayed because he wanted to be there, and Hermione grew more frustrated that that action alone all but made her forgive him for what he said. 

No, bad girl. He’s a prick. An insensitive, mean, vile, amazing, handsome, gentle… Fuck!

Ron was excited to be returning to the Burrow. With his friend’s time being taken with their respective Slytherins, he was happy to be seeing Molly who would dote on him endlessly. 

Harry looked nervous. He was constantly looking over his shoulder at Daphne. Hermione snuck a look with him and found her hugging Blaise and Draco goodbye. 

Hermione smiled, “Nervous to meet the Greengrasses?”

Harry looked shocked, but gave her a sheepish smile. He removed his glasses from his face and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Somehow more nervous than facing a murderous maniac and his thousands of followers who wanted me dead. At least I knew they hated me. With Ginny… Well, I already knew the Weasley’s. I’ll be fine though. Astoria’s bringing her new boyfriend as well. He’s quite a few years older than her. I’m guessing between the two of us, I’m more of a worthy suitor of a daughter. I’ll be fine.”

But he didn’t look fine. It seemed while he was talking, he had gotten even more nervous.

“Is there something you’re not telling me, Harry?”

-----------------

“Harry and I won’t be there to intercept her mail.”

“I know.”

“There will be letters.”

“I know.”

Daphne gave a tight smile before enveloping him in a hug. “Still no luck with her?”

“She won’t talk to me. I don’t even know what I did.” He scowled and turned his head to watch curls bounce as she walked out of the cold and into the castle. Not even a glance back at him. 

“Does it matter? Fix it. We’ve been buying you time for weeks by making sure she doesn’t get those offers. Somehow, you’ve managed to make it worse.” 

With that, she turned on her heel and hurried to meet the Boy Wonder at the platform. They disappeared together into the warmth of the train car. 

Draco felt a coldness in his hand. 

“You owe me for this. Two unregistered portkeys. One there and one back. Took me ages to get my mum’s new boyfriend to swing them. Daph’s right though, you’re not doing to well at wooing on your own,” Blaise added unhelpfully.

Draco glanced down at the two rings in his  hand, one a deep gold and the other a shined silver. 

“From mum’s previous engagements. Gold there, silver back. If you ask my advice,” he wasn’t, “I wouldn’t wait to use them. The sooner you get on her good side, the sooner you can make her Mrs. Malfoy. Or at least rut her into the ground with your teeth in her neck.”

Draco scowled at the jewelry in his hand from his friend’s crude mouth. Tomorrow. He’d take her tomorrow. 

--------------------

The evening post had arrived during dinner. The hall was mostly empty. Only two tables sat to accommodate the small student population. Draco had opted to stay at a separate table from Hermione, but still made a point to catch her eye when he could. 

She blushed at the intensity. She knew she had to talk to him eventually. Her heat was soon, she couldn’t very well let him... assist her when they were so rocky. 

She needed to think clearly about the situation. Logic, that’s what she was good at. It wasn’t as though he betrayed her. So he didn’t like her, she didn’t think he did anyway. She was putting all her eggs into a basket with no bottom. 

He didn’t want her and that was fine. He was doing what he promised he would, helping her through her heats. Keeping her scented. Protecting her from other ill-intended alphas. Just because she liked him didn’t mean he had to reciprocate those feelings. 

But it had hurt so much. She felt they were making progress. They were laughing together, sharing intimate details of their lives. What had made him suddenly so cold against her? 

Swot. 

Know-it-all. 

Messy. 

No manners.

A surge of anger rolled through her. Of course he thought she was unmannered. Having been raised by Muggles as she had. He had no qualms about fucking a mudblood pussy, but wouldn’t taint himself with a mudblood mate. 

She felt stupid, mislead. 

A flapping caught her attention. A gorgeous eostrix had placed itself in front of her. It was sliding a link of sausage off her plate as reparation for carrying a stack of letters at least an inch thick. 

She let the owl peck off her plate as she untied the string from its leg and released the stack of envelopes. She opened the first one on top.

Omega, 

It has been a dream of mine and many others to experience the knotting-

With a scrunchy of her nose, she disposed of the letter. 

Omega Granger,

I’d like to offer your parents a sum of 1,000 galleons for your unmated neck-

Nope. Into the disposed pile it went. 

It went on for almost the entire pile. Her idea of offers had been an offer of a dowry for the opportunity of courtship. Not the immediate fusing of their bodies or otherwise. 

A deep red envelope caught her eye. It looked rich. This ought to be good. 

Hermione Granger, at least it opted not to reference her by her omega status. 

I hope this letter finds you well. I imagine Scotland is snowy and dreary this time around. Being from the West-coast of America, it is rare I see snow, if ever. Your bravery and beauty has transcended country lines-- her cheeks darkened at the compliment-- and so has the news of your presenting. I imagine this is a difficult time for you and one that is overwhelming-- she snorted-- As such, I have no interest in your submissiveness. I am a man of politics and knowledge. 

The wizarding community of America would benefit greatly from your influence. It hasn’t escaped me that your parents are unreachable at this time, for that I’m sorry. In exchange for your mateship, I’d like to offer you 40,000 galleons-- her breath caught in her throat-- for you to do as you see fit. When you join me in America, money will be no object. Spend it as you wish. 

If you agree, please send a response and we will arrange a meeting. I will come to you, I’ve always wanted to see a real snow-fall. 

Regards,

Delphinus Harrison

P.S. I’ve attached a picture of myself. I know what you look like, it’s only fair you do too. 

The photo was a dashing man with lean muscles and huge green eyes that seemed to follow her movements. A short crop of curly blonde hair sat atop a face of rounded features and a genuine grin. He looked so familiar. 

40,000 galleons was more than the minister made in a year and it was at her disposal. She could do something with it, something good. And at what cost? Moving to America, to a handsome man who had no interest in her omega quim or her unmarked neck. 

It was the logical choice. She had lost her right to a mate born of love when she presented. How many alphas would have no interest in forcing her into submission? Into breeding her over and over again with their children? 

Malfoy wouldn’t, It was her omega that had clawed her way into her decision making. It seemed she had quite the attachment to his alpha. 

She looked over to where he sat, stabbing his fork into an undeserving sausage.The sneer on his face was familiar, too familiar.

It was the look he gave her the first time he called her a mudblood. The look he gave her in the bookstore their second year when she talked back to his father. The sneer Harry and Ron described he had when he said he wished the Basilisk got her first. 

It was blind pride that caused her to write the response. Later, if you asked her, she’d say it was the worst decision of her life. 

Chapter Text

“Are you going to ignore me forever, Granger?”

He had wanted to give her the gift the day after everyone had left, but she had remained aloof.

She had been doing so well at avoiding him. She tracked his scent constantly, opening up her airways to find his location and then avoiding it at all cost. But it seems he was doing the opposite, tracking her scent and moving towards her. Like a predator hunting its prey. 

The thought made her shiver. 

Grey, possessive eyes over her as he thrust into her. 

You’re mine, he’d say, mine to touch, mine to fuck. My omega. My Granger. My Hermione.

Yes, she’d gasp, I’m yours. Make me yours. My alpha. My Draco. 

She shook the image from her head. He’d never say that. Not to a common muggle filth swot. 

He found her in the library. She should have known he’d corner her here. He was waiting. She wasn’t careful. 

“I didn’t know we were so close, Malfoy.” She didn’t mean for the bitter tone to come through her voice, but wasn’t all too unhappy when it made him frown. 

Say we’re close. 

Say you want me. 

“We’re… not, I suppose. But your heat is coming up…”

“Don’t you think I know that?” She snapped, finally turning away from the bookshelf she was facing to look him in the eye. 

It was a mistake. Those fucking eyes. She wanted to get on her knees for him. Beg him to look at her while she worshipped his cock. She’d be so good. Such a good girl for him. 

“What’s your problem, Granger? You’re acting like I kicked your puppy. This isn’t like you.”

“Yes, and what could you possibly know about me?” She was seething, her blood was boiling as if she was about to go into heat, but she wasn’t. No. This was rage. 

He opened his mouth to speak, looking so unfamiliarly stricken. She was having none of that. 

“Maybe that I’m a swot? Or a messy? Or unmannered--” She was ticking them one by one on her fingers. He smacked her hand away.

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“I heard you. I heard you and Blaise. You… The thought of us being friends, the thought of you liking me at all… It was preposterous to you.” 

It was like everything fell together and she could see the puzzle pieces falling together in his eyes. 

“That’s all you heard?” He was still. His heart was thumping widely in his chest. 

If she heard him say he fancied her and she was acting like this…

“It’s all I needed to hear. You.. You..”

Then he was laughing. Small bubbles of laughter that turned into side clutching fits. Her lip was quivering. 

How dare he laugh at me!

She went to push past him, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back in front of him. 

“Granger, you are messy. You can’t eat a meal without getting crumbs in your hair or down your robes. You speak out of turn. You are unmannerful in a way that would turn my pureblood mother in her grave. You have to know you’re a swot, Hermione. You know lessons like the back of your hand months before we even learn them in class. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to be your al- friend.”

 He stuttered over his slip-up, hoping she hadn’t caught it. It was too soon to tell her. He needed to give her her present first. He needed to be sure she knew he was different. 

Her lip was still quivering. He wanted to bite it to stop the shaking. He wanted to reach his hands up and pull her face to his lips until she forgot anything she heard. 

“That’s not something you think about a friend.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Really, Granger? So I have no bad qualities? I’m the picture of perfection?” 

“No.. you’re arrogant.”

“I am.”

“And spoiled.”

“Of course.”

“You’re wishy-washy.”

“Sometimes.”

“You interrupt people when they speak.”

“Fair.”

“You talk badly about your friends.” She was smiling by the last insult. 

“It’s how you know I care. If it’s any consolation, I think Blaise is a whore and Daphne is never on time.” He shared her smile. 

“I shouldn’t have eavesdropped.”

“No, but I’m sorry you were hurt by what you heard. I do value our… our friendship.” There was a tone in the last word Hermione couldn’t make out. 

Hope? Desperation? Frustration?

“I do too.”

No, I don’t. I don’t want you to be my friend. I want you to throw me on this table and knot in me so I can never avoid you again. I want you to mark me and keep me. I don’t want your friendship. 

“Will you meet me in the courtyard at noon? I have something for you. A gift. For Christmas.”

“You got me a gift?” Her eyebrows furrowed and there was a twisting behind her navel. 

He got you something. Her omega was on its back, spreading its legs already.

  Down girl, she urged it.

“You got me something even though I’ve been ignoring you? That’s… cocky. Who’s to say I would have taken it?”

His grin was wolfish and she couldn’t stop her lashes from fluttering. 

“It’s not something you take… I’m bringing you somewhere. I’ve told McGonagall I’m bringing you into London for some supplies. Blaise… his step-father, of sorts, made us portkeys. I knew you wouldn’t say no.”

“We’re going into London? Whatever for?” 

His grin was wide, so unlike anything she’d ever seen on him. Pure joy. Pure, genuine excitement. All for her. 

“Not London, you’ll see. Courtyard at noon, don’t be late. Dress light under your winter clothes.”

He was about to rush out of the library to prepare when she asked, “Malfoy, why wouldn’t I say no?”

He brought his face close, deliciously close. So close that the mint in his breath puffed onto her lips and if her omega was in control, she would have stuck her tongue out to lick the taste. 

“Because you’re a swot, Granger,” He grinned, “You’d be too curious to say no.”

----------------

She returned to her room to get ready. It wasn’t a date, she knew that, but she still felt the need to look good for him. To let him show her off wherever they went. 

The girls dorms were quiet as the majority of students had left to be with their families for the holidays, but Hermione didn’t mind. It gave her room to throw clothes whatever which way, until she ended up in simple, fitted muggle jeans and a white tee-shirt.

If you could believe it, it was the nicest outfit she owned. 

She started to apply a light coating of mascara when a knocking at the window sounded. The same owl from dinner those days before, carrying an even bigger stack of letters. 

She didn’t even pay it any mind, she’d probably burn them all without opening them. Until she saw a familiar red envelope. 

Oh god, oh fuck. 

Dearest Hermione, 

Per your request, I have transferred all 40,000 galleons to the Lumos Foundation for children orphaned after the war. I’ve attached the thank you note, sent by the founder. It was quite heartwarming for me to read, I think you’ll find it is as well. 

She didn’t feel heartwarmed. She felt sick. Vile. Draco. Draco. Draco. What have I done?

In regards to our meeting, how does February sound? I could come during Valentines Day, it could be very romantic. 

Eagerly awaiting your response, 

Delphinus Harrison. 

Her mascara was all for naught as it was now running down her face. 

-------------

She looked nervous. Or guilty. Or… Something. Either way, it was putting Draco on edge. What if she didn’t want to do this? What if she reacted badly? What if it brought up memories for her?

“Alright there, Granger?”

Whatever hesitation was on her face snapped away at the sound of his voice. It was a mask of contentment. 

She thinks she’s such a good actress, his mind scoffed.

But he had become acquainted with her enough to know her genuine smiles are warm, a gentle pull of the lips that crinkle her eyes just slightly. This was a thin lipped, wide eyed mask.

What are you hiding from me, omega? 

They began their trek into Hogsmead. 

“Alright, Malfoy. Are you going to give me a hint of where we’re going?”

He rubbed his chin dramatically, “Hm, no. I don’t think I will. I like to watch you squirm when you don’t know something, swot.”

Squirming. Hermione squirming under him. Hips bucking to create friction against his straining cock. He’d hold her down, stop her movements. Tease her. She’d whimper as she always does, desperate to come. Desperate for him. 

Thank god it’s so cold, he thought. The wind chill pulling down both his erection and giving an excuse for the flush that came suddenly to his face. 

They had reached the edge of town when he held out his hand to her. In all their time together they had never done such an intimate gesture. No kissing, no hugging, definitely no hand holding. She looked hesitant.

“Come on now, Granger, where’s that Gryffindor bravery I’ve heard so much about?”

With a bite of her lip, she slid her hand into his. 

Her fingers were short and dainty with neatly cropped nails, attached to a soft palm that radiated warmth through Draco’s cold body. He shivered. 

“Malfoy, what-”

She wasn’t able to finish her sentence as the familiar whirl of the portkey took her into the air. When they landed, he was of course gracefully stepping out of the sky while she fell promptly onto her face. 

It was warm here, so warm her coat felt near sweltering. The ground under her fingers was lush and green, a staggering difference from the dead grass and muddy puddles in Scotland. 

A hand was suddenly in front of her. She grasped it as Draco pulled her to her feet and watched as she brushed the dirt from her knees. 

“Where are we?” Hermione glanced around at the vast farmland that was their port point. 

His grin was smug, but only in a way where he knew what he was about to say would please her immensely, ”Welcome to Australia, Granger.”

----

The walk to the edge of the farm was silent as Draco let the news sink in. 

How?

Where?

When?

And most importantly, why?

“I had a favor owed by someone. I asked if they could locate your parents using the alias you gave them. I thought you’d might like to see them again… I think you need to see them again.”

He had expected her to cry when he told her, but she was eerily silent. Shocked. Maybe upset? 

“What if… What if they’re not happy?”

They were coming upon a small cottage, build of lightly colored bricks and a wooden porch with a swing. It was so familiar. It was home. 

Hermione could see herself as a child, sitting next to her father on the porch bench swing. Too small for her feet to touch the ground, she would screech in delight when her father kicked off the ground, sending them into the air. 

But this wasn’t that swing. And this wasn’t her home. 

A cloak made its way around her shoulders and over her head. If she wasn’t so put off, she would have complained of the oven it caused. 

“I had Daphne pinch this from Potter. So we can get closer.”

She nodded, but said nothing.

Draco guided her with one hand on the small of her back to a window that peered into a modest kitchen. 

Her breath caught in her throat. 

A curly-haired man with wired glasses sat at the head of the table, as he always had. He was reading a newspaper, folded four times to focus on the sudoku puzzle before him. 

Draco looked at the man and then back to Hermione. There was no denying she was his daughter. The focused face he made was the same he had seen on her many times over the years. 

“He taught me how to play,” Hermione whispered, even though through the thick windows there was no chance of being heard,  “He used to say that people who did crosswords knew when they stopped making progress to put the puzzle down, but people who did sudoku don’t give up until every box is filled with numbers. Sudoku player never gave up, he said.”

A warm hand slid into hers. 

“You didn’t give them up, Granger, you saved them. You solved the puzzle.”

She gave a tight nod and focused her attention on the curly haired woman stepping away from the coffee maker. 

Draco had to do a double-take. That was Hermione. Tanned skin. Wild hair. Warm smile. Long lashes. Amber eyes. It was like looking into the future. 

They both watched as the woman placed herself into the chair to her husband's right, giving him a light kiss on the temple. 

 “She used to kiss me like that.”

The hand gave a reassuring squeeze.

The man looked up and flashed a smile, setting down the puzzle. 

Priorities, Draco laughed. 

The couple were talking enthusiastically.The woman poured a pot of cream into the coffee with a packet of sugar she shook rapidly before tearing open. 

Hermione does that every morning, Draco thought. 

The woman placed the spoon in the coffee mug, but took her hand away. Carefully, she pointed a finger at the spoon and it began to turn of its own accord. 

The gasp Hermione let out was more of a scream and Draco ran a thumb over the back of her hand to soothe her.

He knew. He knew from the first letter from the wizard PI that Hermione’s mother had magic. He knew it would devastate her to find out her mother had kept something so important a secret. How much better could Hermione have faired if she knew of magic from the get-go? How different would life be if she knew she wasn’t a muggleborn?

But, he knew it would give her closure to see her parents happy and safe. He knew it would answer her questions about being an omega. 

He was her alpha, he always knew what she needed. 

Draco let her watch them through the window for what felt like forever. They watched as the couple shuffled in and out of the kitchen sharing kisses and laughs and even a pat on the butt from Mr. Granger to his wife. 

The sun was starting to set and Hermione made a noise of disapproval when he began to pull her away.

“It’s okay, Granger, we’ll be back.” 

She let him pull her back across the farm.

-------

The walk back to Hogwarts was relatively silent, but not strained nor awkward. 

The crunch of snow under their boots filled the empty air. 

She couldn’t stop thinking of her parents, how happy they looked. 

When she had received her Hogwarts letter, her parents had cried. At 11, Hermione thought maybe it was out of joy, pride, maybe even missing their daughter. But now… What if they were disappointed?

They never allowed her to use magic at home, not even for simple things. Was her mother ashamed of her magic? Was her father like Harry’s aunt and uncle; thinking they were freaks?

They were amazing parents. Kind, loving, attentive. And now, they were liars. 

With a small smile, Hermione thought of that stirring spoon. Without Hogwarts, her mother probably only had minor control over her magic impulses. 

Did she go to Hogwarts?

Did she know Dumbledore? 

Did anyone else know of her magic? 

Besides being upset, she was… relieved. 

They were so happy.

They were stopped in front of the Gryffindor portrait before Draco broke their silence.  

“Get some rest, Granger. Your heat starts the day after next and you should start banking your sleeping hours.” 

But she didn’t move. Neither of them did.

Kiss him, she thought

Kiss me, he thought. 

A flash of Delphinus went through her mind. 40,000 galleons already spent. There was no more pursuing Draco, not anymore. Not when she would have to leave him at the end of it all, anyway. 

You stupid, stupid girl with your dumb, rash decisions. 

With a shuddering breath, she turned her eyes away. She didn’t see the disappointment, the hurt that flashed across his face. 

“Um, yes, well, thank you. I mean it… Thank you. I… Now I don’t need to know if I’ve made the wrong decision.”

He gave a small smile, “Granger, I don’t think you have the ability to make a bad decision.”

She almost sobbed. He had no idea.

Chapter Text

“Admit it, Granger, you were wrong-”

“I was not wrong -”

“You said wampus-”

“And you know I meant r ougarou -”

“But that’s not what you said-”

“ Fine!”

Draco smirked as the sneer on Hermione’s face and fell back against the wood of the library chair, causing it to creak at his weight. 

Hermione was huffing, crossing her arms, a red tint to her cheeks. She wasn’t used to being wrong. If it was Harry or Ron, they would have never caught her slip up of mistaking the two wand core hairs. But, Draco was not Harry or Ron. He heard the mistake immediately and spent the better part of ten minutes hounding her to admit it. 

It’s what made him such a good library partner. 

A great friend.

A compatible alpha. 

After yesterday’s Australian adventure, Hermione had barely slept. 

She had thrown herself into a situation she had no idea how to handle. When she wrote to Delphinus requesting the money be forwarded to the Lumos Foundation for orphaned children, she did it with only the best intent. The logic was sound. If she were to leave Hogwarts, unmated without Draco’s constant scent keeping her safe, who was to say she would not be accosted on her way home from work? That she wouldn’t be grabbed while in her favorite bookstore or on the stoop of her flat? 

Daphne had warned her about the chances of a life like that. Had told her how lax the Ministry was when it came to alpha laws. They saw no need for law modernization after hundreds of years of no omegas. 

Delphinus was a sensible choice. The logical choice. After hearing how Malfoy spoke about her, it was… the only choice. All those letters that spoke about her as if she was a mail order bride or a broodmare, Delphinus was the only one who spoke to her as Hermione Granger.  Now she was 40,000 galleons in debt to someone she didn’t love. 

She needed to talk to Daphne. But first, she needed to get through her heat with Draco. 

Australia was so wonderful, so thoughtful. After months of listening to her speak of her parents, of how much she worried for them, of how hard it was not knowing where they were: he took her to them. Would Delphinus do that? Would he care about her like Malfoy did? Could she care about him like she did Draco? 

“Earth to Granger.”

A hand was waving in front of her face. How long was she silent for? 

The blonde was smirking at her shamed face, believing it was the result of the Hermione Granger being wrong. 

“Sorry, I think I’m getting a little delirious on account of my heat starting. Where were we?”

He was tapping the feather of a quill against his bottom lip. How she wanted to take that lip between hers and suck-

“Would you like to go into Hogsmead? With me, I mean. I haven’t gotten Daph anything for Christmas and I want to send it out before we burrow in for the next few days.”

Hermione cocked her head and bit the corner of her lip. 

Christmas was soon. By the time they would be leaving their corridor it would be Christmas Eve. She had meticulously planned, bought, packaged, and sent out presents for everyone already. The Weasleys, Harry, McGonagall, even Daphne. But she couldn’t think of anything for Draco. 

What do you get someone who has everything? Who could buy anything in the world they wanted? What do you buy to properly say, “thank you for everything you’ve done for me, I can’t breathe when I’m around you, I think I love you, I want you to make me yours.” A pair of socks didn’t seem to do it justice. 

It was blistering hot in the library from the candles and the warming spells Hogwarts came equipped with. Hermione knew after years of sweat stains on her sweaters to always wear a short-sleeve shirt underneath when visiting. In fact, she was down to her undershirt now and still sweltering. Even though Draco was smirking at her, she could tell he was uncomfortable. There were beads of sweat over his brow and along his jaw. A drop was slowly sliding down his temple down to his ear. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was starting to limp down on his forehead. If it was any other time, the look of him so slick and disheveled would make her omega purr and reach out to lick the sweat from his face and cool him with her tongue. 

But now, her omega was pounding on her subconscious. Your alpha is uncomfortable, he’s unwell. Make him better, take care of him like he takes care of you.

It was well known that Draco Malfoy wore sleeves. Always. Even in the dead of summer. Others may think it was debonair pureblood “thing”that it was unbecoming of a pureblood man to show so much skin. 

Hermione knew better. Even though the mark was no longer dark and brooding, the scar that was left behind was prominent and reminding. Not only to him, but to others.

“Granger? Don’t think so hard, you don’t have to go if you don’t want. I just thought you’d like some fresh air befo--”

“Let’s go to Perth.” 

“Muggle Perth? Why?” 

“You can get Daphne a nice designer muggle purse and I have… something I need to do for Christmas as well.”

He seemed to think for a moment, then started to pack his things. 

“Alright, but you’re picking out the purse.”

-----

Perth, Scotland was the closest muggle town connected to Hogsmead. The adjourning wizarding bar, The White Wand, was located on an unfrequented side street, which opened up to the bustling streets of the town. 

It was beautiful, historic, and perfect for Draco’s Christmas present. 

Purse shopping was eventful to say the least. Prada, Coach, Louis Vuitton, Gucci. Every store was a clash between Hermione’s insistence for a demure bag and Draco’s push for absolute luxury. By the time they settled on a small, leather Valentino bag, it was nearing nighttime. The lights in the shops were dim and licking the streets in their yellow glow. 

“It’s getting late, Granger. We need to get you back to Hogwarts before the heat starts.”

“We still have until noon tomorrow, Malfoy, relax. Plus, I still need to get my Christmas things.” They were patting down the cobblestones of the road, only a few couples and families passed. 

One couple held a curly blonde haired girl in their arms, her lips parted in sleep. 

I wonder if our babies would have blonde curls…

Hermione blinked rapidly at the thought. 

“Well where do you need to go?” 

A store down the road was alit with neon and highlighted the green exterior and golden letters of the shop. It was a rainbow in a sea of cream and black. 

“There.”

“What is this place, Granger?” Draco whispered as they stepped through the ringing bell sounds of the front door. 

The hum of electricity were tickling their ears. Art was hung on the walls by pieces of paper and books lay open on metal chairs. A burly man hunched over the calf of a customer was the source of the humming. 

“Hullo there,” He called from his hunched position, not breaking contact with the skin of the calf. “Make ‘urself comfortable ‘an I’ll be right over, yeah?”

Draco whispered once more, “Granger, what are we doing here?” 

She smiled. 

“We’re covering your mark.”

------

“How’d ‘ou get this ‘ere scar? Tis a clean cut if aye ever saw ‘ne.”

The man carefully ran his thumb over the mark and Hermione could tell Draco was doing all he could not to flinch away. He was moving in his seat to release the uncomfortable tension. Draco looked over at her, his silver eyes begging for help.

“It’s… a brand. I think you’d call it scarification? Like with a hot poker?” 

The man gave a thin lipped, raised eyebrow smile while nodding his head. Impressed.

“Best one aye ever saw, thass for sure. What made ‘ye get it?”

Hermione went to open her mouth, but Draco was already speaking, “I was young and stupid. It’s… It’s not who I am anymore.” 

“We all do ‘tings we regret as youngins. Not all of us grow out of ‘em. Good on you, son.” 

Hermione saw Draco visibly relax his forearm into the palm of the man in front of him. 

“It won’t be a problem to cover it, will it? Tattooing over such a big scar?” Hermione asked. 

The man shook his head and began to set up the station to start. 

“Naw, ‘tis already ‘ealed. Just gotta be gentle ‘round the raised ‘arts, but no worries, lass, I’ll take good care of ‘yer boyfriend here.”

Neither of them corrected him. 

“Now,” the man said snapping the glove onto his hand, “‘Ow ‘bout you pick ‘omething that does represent who ‘ou are?”

-----

“Does it hurt?” She asked, carefully to only touch the outline of the tattoo and not the fresh wound of ink. 

“Not at all, it feels great. It’s… Thank you, Granger.”

They were laying on the bed of their corridor. Next to each other, close enough for their shoulders to touch. His newly tattooed forearm was draped over her belly as she helped to apply essence of dittany over the art. 

It was beautiful. A two headed snake slithering between a bed of flowers. You couldn’t even see the scar underneath unless you were intimately close. 

“What is it?” She whispered.

“The Hydra of Lerna. Greek mythology. For every head cut off, another grows.”

She turned her head to him at the same time he did. So close his breath was hot against her lips. So close he could hear her pulse beating under her scent gland. 

“Second chances?” She whispered, her lips almost grazing his at the proximity. 

“Second chances.”

It could have been either of them to lean in first. It didn’t even matter. When their lips connected, trembling and willing and excited; it didn’t matter where one of them started and the other ended. 

When he pushed himself up onto his arm to lean over her to deepen the kiss, when she dipped her tongue into the hot cavern of his mouth, when he fisted her hair in his hands; there was no Draco Malfoy or Hermione Granger. There was no Delphinus Harrison. 

There were only second chances.

---

Draco's tattoo is basically based on my tattoo which is a mythological hydra snake, which you can see it here w/ my face! -- 

Chapter Text

Waking up was like being dipped in a vat of honey. 

Her thighs were sticky and thick with slick, pooling down to stain both her knickers and the soft cushioning underneath her. 

And it was hot. So hot. Scorching like flames were licking her, peeling her skin off from the inside. The body next to her, the arm draped over her, was too much. Too much heat. 

So she started clawing at the hand, digging her nails into the soft flesh of the arm to move it away or move it down or she wasn’t quite sure where she needed it. 

“Granger?” The panicked voice might have been one foot away or miles, she could barely hear and it was the only thing she could hear; all at once. 

Her mouth was moving. 

Alpha, alpha, alpha. 

Why was she begging? What was she begging for-

Oh

The arm that was once draped over her had crawled down her chest, over the tight nub of her breast, down to the mound at the apex of her thighs and dipped in. 

For a moment there was relief from the heat. She could breathe. 

But then the air was suddenly ripped from her lungs as strong fingers traced the outline of her clit, not touching fully on. 

Please, please, please.

And that son of a bitch was laughing. A deep rumble from the core of his belly that made her arch her back to press closer to the cool breathe that escaped his lips. 

“So needy, omega. I’ll take care of you. I’ve got you, my sweet girl.”

The hand was gone and she would have screamed out in protest if not for her face being buried in a pillow. 

No, no, no.

Let me see you.

Please, please.

I need to see you. 

A cool hand on her spine. Stroking, soothing. 

“I can’t, omega, it has to be like this. You make me lose control. Those eyes, those fucking eyes.”

The heat was pushing through her eyes and burning her tongue. She was thrashing, arching, mewling. Her curls were damp and stuck to her face. Her hands reaching behind her to grab onto something, that thing that would stop the burning. 

Panting, panting, panting. 

Hands were on her highs to keep her steady. 

“My sweet girl, my good girl, so ready for me.”

She was ready. She was more than ready. 

He pushed her thighs apart and suddenly the hand on her back was gone. He was kneeling behind her, breathing in her scent. A growl from his throat. Broad licks of his tongue to catch the slick that had dripped down to her knee. 

It wasn’t enough.

More, more, please, more.

His tongue was there, flat and strong against her clit from behind. His thumbs moved to part her folds, his nose buried almost into the opening of her cunt. 

He took one hand under her belly to prop her up, giving him easier access of the bud that was now pulsing, pleading to be touched. 

It wasn’t enough, now it was almost too much. 

Her body was thrashing. Away from his tongue or towards it? He wasn’t relenting. He was so much stronger than her. He kept her in place, kept her where he wanted her. 

God, she was almost there. The room was on fire, but she could see a pool of ice in front of her. She was running, running towards it. 

His tongue flicked the bud just so. She was convulsing. The pool was so close. So close to release from this burning. Clawing her way towards it. 

Anything, anything, I’ll do anything. 

Anything to get to that pool.

Anything to calm the scorching that was melting her skin. 

A finger pushed into her, then a second. Her body was pulling them in. Suckling on them, milking them. 

The pool was there, right in her reach. His sinful tongue was pushing her in. There was no dipping of toes, only straight into the cold. She screamed, but she couldn’t hear it. He was laughing again. A pleased reverberation as she clenched and keened. 

For a moment there was peace. His hand was on her hand again. Stroking, soothing.

Just as quickly as it came, it was gone. 

The fire was sucking the water out of the pool. Her relief was evaporating into the air to form storm clouds. 

Need you, alpha, please, please. 

With a roar he was over her. Hands on either side of her pillow. On impulse she leaned over to take his thumb in her mouth. Nursing on it as if it was the elixir of life, as if it would make the storm clouds rain on them. 

“Such a good girl for me. Feeding on my thumb like a kitten. One day that will be my cock, sweet girl, you’ll see.”

Nodding, pleading. 

“Would you like to try something new, kitten?”

Yes, yes, yes. 

Anything to stop this fire from consuming us. 

Anything to make it rain. 

She was moving, he was lifting her by her hips to sit her up straight. Through the haze of arousal she could see him maneuvering them. Him on his back against the headboard. Her hovering over him, facing the end of the bed. Her legs tucked under themselves as she straddled his thighs. 

“Ride me, omega.”

Guiding hands led her down his length. He was thick, so thick the walls of her clenching pussy were shaking as they parted to let him pass. 

When she was fully seated she experimentally rolled her hips. The deep roar from her alpha spurred her on to do it again. Then again. 

Shuttering hands lifted her hips to show her. This is how you ride my cock. This is how you take me. 

It felt so different. He was everywhere and nowhere. Each time she was fully seated on him, the head was rubbing on her cervix just so. Deliciously, almost painfully. 

She was bouncing now, extending her knees and gripping his calves for leverage. From this angle Draco could see where their bodies met. Pulling apart the flesh of her ass, he watched himself disappear inside her, only to drug out carrying a thick layer of slick that made his cock shine. 

He watched as the damp curls spiraling down her back bounced with her and brushed just the small of her back. She was trembling, losing her strength to move.

He moved them again. Now they were both kneeling. Her back to his chest, a sturdy forearm resting across her chest and propping her against him. 

His strokes were punishing. Deep, fast, overwhelming. This was the closest they had ever been while fucking. His head was buried in her hair, she could feel his panting against the back of her neck. 

If she tilted her head just so, her scent gland would be exposed. 

He would take her. He would sink his teeth and tear the skin, stripping away all her vulnerability. She would be his, just as she was meant to be. 

But she couldn’t. His arm was tight under her chin, keeping her in place. Always keeping her where he wanted her. 

“So good, so fucking good. I’m gonna knot in you, kitten, I’m going to fill you and stretch up until you can’t move without me.”

Nodding, pleading. 

Yours, yours, I’m yours. 

His free hand came across her body, dipping to toy with her clit once more. 

The fire was eating away at the bed. 

There’s thunder and lightning crashing around them. 

“Come for me, omega.”

The storm was coming.

A drop of rain sizzled against her skin.

A gentle slap against her clit. 

Shaking, stuttering, losing control.

Alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha. 

So close, it was drizzling. 

Each drop of rain fell, then withering away on her skin. 

Alpha, alpha, alpha, alpha. 

Draco.

And then, it was pouring.

-----------

She was tucked safely under his chin once more. The first touch of the heat was always the hardest for her, he knew. It was the time she was most wanton, most unlike herself.

But she called him Draco.

In the last moments of her heat, when she was clenching and trembling, she called for him.

Not alpha, Draco. 

His chest was swelling on the inside, right where his heart ought to be. He made her lose control, he made her come around his cock, he made the burning go away.

Not alpha, Draco.

He smiled lightly, burying his nose into the top of her hair and inhaling deeply.

Cherry and mint and sweat. His favorite.

“Draco?” A small voice came from underneath him. 

“Yes, sweet girl?” He stroked the hair away from her temple. 

She was looking at him with those big doe eyes he didn’t trust himself around. 

“Why won’t you look at me? You know… when we…” The tops of her cheeks flushed Draco could see from his angle above her.

He smiled in spite of himself. Even after their animalistic coupling, she couldn’t use foul words. She would always be the same Hermione Granger. That thought gave him comfort. 

“I don’t… trust myself to,” he was speaking slow, carefully choosing his words. “I meant what I said. I lose myself when I’m around you. I would never mark you, ever, during your heat. I would never take something from you when you’re so… hazed… But I’m afraid of losing that control.”

She was still under him. For a moment he panicked, maybe he had scared her off. 

“Draco, what would you say if I told you I wanted you to mark me?”

Now he was still.

“I guess I would say that you need to take more time to think. Time when you’re not exhausted after fucking or not in your right mind from your heat.”

“Draco… I have to tell you something--”

He pressed a cool finger to her lips.

“Not now, my sweet girl. Rest first.”

He fell asleep with a soft smile, dreaming of Hermione with a swollen belly and his mark shining against her neck.

She fell asleep with a frown, dreaming of American boys with green eyes coming to take her away. 

------

The second time her heat struck her was later that night, after Draco force-fed her warm biscuits and jam with tea. 

She slept most of the afternoon into the evening, only coming to when Draco would nudge a glass of water at her lips and urged her to drink. 

Would Delphinus do this for her? Would he care for her like this during her heats?

She wanted to tell Draco. Really, she did. And she was going to before he stopped her. But, what would she say?

Hi, I think you care for me and I know I’m in love with you, but I promised myself to someone else and spent 40,000 galleons and I can’t repay that, so I need you to mark me so I don’t have to leave you or I’m afraid I’ll break.

The panic of losing her alpha is what sent her into a spiral. 

He was stirring his tea with one hand, a book propped open in another. Brows furrowed in concentration. 

She imagined waking in the morning, pattering to the kitchen table. He’d be there with breakfast already made, making sure she ate for the day. He’d kiss her sticky-jam lips and laugh when she went in for another, reminding her she would be late for work if she didn’t stop. 

Perhaps they’d have a baby with tiny curls and wide eyes. A little boy with Daddy’s eyes and a constellation name, as tradition. 

Delphinus

Constellation located in the northern sky.

Represents the dolphin sent by the sea god Poseidon to find Amphitrite, the woman he wanted to marry, and bring her to him.

Or for Apollo, the god of poetry and music, who placed the dolphin among the constellations for saving the life of Arion.

Which was he, a savior? Or a capturer?

She moaned.

He looked up from his book.

Her face was flushed with guilt and the heat that overtook her.

“Please, I need you.”

Only you. Now. Forever. Please.

He guided her to the edge of the bed, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. Their second kiss ever.

“I’m here.”

When he pushed her down to lay her arms flat over the bed, legs straight on the floor, she was, for the first time, relieved he didn’t see her eyes.

When he thrust into her, she felt the first tear fall.

The rain had returned, forming lines down her face.

Unlike last time, he was slow and careful. The drag of his cock hit every nerve as it glided through her.

“Say it again, please.”

He was close, she could tell by the way he grew thicker inside her. It seemed impossible, but her body contorted and moved to adjust to the difference in size.

She was close too, he could tell by the way she panted and trembled and pulsed around him.

“Alpha…” She moaned, arching her back.

Bite me, bite me, bite me.

She wanted to scream.

“No,” he panted, “Who do you belong to?”

Right there, she was so close to the edge she could feel it pulling at her navel.

“You!” She sobbed, “Only you.”

The tears flowed freely now, though he couldn’t see them.

“And who am I?”

Right there, just right there--

“Draco!”

The name on her lips is what sent him over. The second time she called for him. His. With a roar, his thrusts stuttered and his knot grew, shooting stream after stream of cum into her.

He fell onto the bed beside her, keeping her close as his knot kept them in joined.

Sobs racked her body, she couldn’t stop them.

He must have thought the trembling was from the remnants of her orgasm as he trailed a hand lightly up and down her side, pressing kisses to the back of her head.

Gentle, sweet, and she didn’t deserve it.

“My sweet girl,” He whispered into her hair,

Yes, yours, she thought, but for how long?

Chapter Text

Christmas Eve at the Greengrass's was quite a sordid affair, at least for Harry. It reminded him too much of his time during the Holidays with the Dursleys. Quiet and full of silent contempt. 

Harry longed for the rich, homie warmth of the Weasleys. With a pot of black tea and a steaming bowl of Molly’s hearty stew. Instead, they were all gathered around a too-spacious table for the six of them, eating a delicate roast of vegetables and chicken. What he wouldn’t give for a fatty piece of meat from the stew to melt in his mouth and warm his chest. 

The Greengrass parents were nice enough. They had stayed blissfully neutral during the war, so Harry had no qualms about eating their food lest it be poisoned or reaching for door knobs that could have been cursed. Instead, they resorted to passive insults and uncomfortably rhetorical questions. 

“Don’t you wish you could have been around magic your whole life, Harry? How different it would be!”

“I’ve heard muggles lacked a certain degree of etiquette.” A pointed stare to his knife holding hand. 

Yes, it was quite the draining affair. Harry rubbed his eyes with his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Hey, you.”

A soft voice pried his hand away from his eyes. Hermione’s eyes were full of knowledge. Ginny’s had been sharp and fierce. But Daphne… Hers were warm. Even through the piercing seas of blue and green, there was a smokey warmth that exudes understanding and compassion. His mother had looked at him like that once, when he stood in front of the Mirror of Erised. 

He gave her a weak, trembling smile and held out his arms to her. “Hey.”

She fell into his open arms. Her body was small, but soft, and her belly rolled when she sat on his lap. It was womanly and delicate and uniquely Daphne. 

She ran her fingers through his messy hair and used her sharp nails to scratch at his scalp until he melted and pressed his face into the crook of her neck. 

“I’m sorry about them, I didn’t expect so much…” She grimaced, “Passive aggressiveness?”

He sighed out a laugh. “If it’s any consolation to you, I think they like me better than Astoria’s boyfriend.”

The girl was only 16 and yet the man so much her senior had opted to trim his hand up and under her skirt for most of dinner, much to the chagrin of her parents. 

“Yes, well, I think you did brilliantly. You know I love you, right?”

He nuzzled his face deeper into her neck and breathed in honey and jasmine, “And I you, Daph.”

She hummed for a moment. “I’ve been speaking with Ron, you know.”
Harry pulled his face away from her neck and quirked a brow. “Should I be jealous?”

Daphne swatted his arm and kissed his temple. “Silly man. No, nothing unsavory. He apologized to me for our confrontation in the Hall.”

After Ron’s outburst, he made a point to avoid Daphne and Draco, which meant he saw less and less of his two best friends as they were now attached to the Slytherins practically by the hip. Ron, although sweet and gentle, was stubborn. Daphne knew his upset was not at her and not at Draco per say, but the concern for his female friends safety. She could understand that. 

So at the start of winter break, she had waved an olive branch in the form of expensive sweets and pastries from her mother's favorite french bakery. 

She received a response the next day. 

“He invited us to spend Christmas at the Burrow.” Her tone was light and casual, but her smile was playful and knowing, “But I told him there was absolutely no way you’d want to miss a Greengrass Christmas.”

“Of course not, love.” Harry’s smile was forced and didn’t reach to crinkle the skin under his glasses. 

Daphne rolled her eyes, “I’m kidding, obviously, go pack. The floo opens in ten minutes.” 

He all but threw her off his lap to scramble and pack his belongings. Daphne gave a hearty laugh. 

“Silly man.”

-------------------

The air was the type of warm you walk into when you know there are already too many people in a cramped space. There were voices and laughter and clinking of glasses coming from just in front of them. 

Molly was already waiting in front of the floo with two glasses of fairy wine and a warm smile.  Harry relaxed immediately while Daphne’s shoulders were almost up to her ears stiffly. 

“Harry! Oh, Harry, look at you! You get taller every time I see you,” She pulled him into a great hug, the wine sloshing in the glass before she turned to Daphne. Her smile lost no warmth when greeting the unfamiliar face. 

“And Miss. Greengrass, such a beauty! I knew your grandmother years back, you’re her spitting image, has anyone ever told you?”

She opened her mouth to speak, but a bushel of red hair stole her glance. 

“Mum, let her breathe through the soot first.” 

“Oh, George,” She huffed but gave a smile to Daphne, “He’s right, you’ll want to freshen up first. Bathrooms right through there… go on then, dear, we’ll be in the living room when you’re finished.”

The bathroom was cramped and the towels were old and soft from so much use, but it smelled like peaches and pastry dough. Inviting and it calmed her. Harry had met her family and been gracious and kind and now she would do the same with his. 

The living room was decorated in colors of brown and orange and soft greens and pinks. There weren’t enough seats on the couches, even with couples sitting on laps. Daphne could make out George with his missing ear sitting with Angelina Johnson atop his knee. Ron grinning and laughing as he stuffed his face with pumpkin pasties. Ginny was snorting a laugh and while Daphne felt she should be jealous, but the way the red haired girl was clutching onto Jimmy Peakes in her peels of laughter assured her there was nothing to worry about. 

Two older men sat silently, but smiling, in the corner. One sat with a very pregnant Fleur on his lap, who Daphne recognized from from their fourth year. The other covered in tattoos and scorch marks over the inked skin. Percy Weasley as prim and proper as ever, sat side by side with his fiancee Audrey Norman instead of her on his lap. 

And then there was Harry. 

Telling a joke that had Ron spitting out flakes of pastry. A brilliant smile that did crinkle the eyes under his glasses. He was home and Daphne was scared. 

Living as a Greengrass did not teach you warmth or laughter or acceptance that Harry had grown accustomed to. What if, at the end of it all, her home for him was not enough? 

“Thank you for coming, Miss. Greengrass. I know how difficult it is to leave family for the holidays, but you are most welcome here.” Molly was old and red, but motherly and wise. 

“Please call me Daphne, Mrs. Weasley. Though it wasn’t as hard as you’d think. We’re not the holiday sort.” 

Her smile was knowing. “Daphne. In any case, I’ve heard much about what you’ve done for Hermione… have you heard from her by any chance?”

Daphne shook her head and Molly sighed and wiped her hands over the front of her apron. 

“Poor girl. I’ll have to bake her a holiday pie. One for Draco too, do you know a filling he prefers?” 

“You’d bake a pie for… for Draco? After everything?” 

She didn’t have to say what she meant. 

For letting the death eaters into Hogwarts that lead to the death of your son and almost your daughter. 

“I care first and foremost about the happiness of my children. Harry and Hermione included. And when you have as many children as I do, you realize you may not always understand their decisions. Or like them. But to see them smile, truly smile, makes all the worry worth it.”

“Charlie for example. My second born. I was sick when he told me he’d be surrounding himself with dragons. I still have trouble sleeping if I don’t hear from him in a timely manner. But the first time he came home… Daphne, it was like seeing my little boy who had just made his first magical sparks. Or Bill with his curse breaking. Or Ron when he left to hunt for horcruxes. Or Ginny when she ran Dumbledore’s Army when the Carrow twins were running Hogwarts. Or even when Fred and George left Hogwarts to pursue a joke shop.”

Molly wiped a lone tear from her eye. 

“What I’m saying is, you have all been through so much to not be happy. Hermione and Harry, we were the only family they had left when the war ended. And now, not to jump the gun- oh sorry, dear, muggle saying- but they’ve found families in you and Draco. If Hermione looks even half as happy as Harry looks with you now, I can forgive anything.”

“Mrs. Weasley, Harry and Hermione will always be your family. Draco and I… we would never take them away--”

“Oh no, dear, you’ve misunderstood! We don’t think Harry and Hermione are replacing us, no, they’re adding on to us. You’re family now, even if you’re not a Weasley. You and Draco both.”

Daphne bit her quivering lip and looked over to Harry, who glanced and caught her eye. It was like everything before didn’t matter as his brows furrowed and he opened his arms to beckon her to come to him. 

He was inviting him to join. He was inviting him to his home, to be apart of the family. Her and Draco both. 

“Cherry, he likes cherry filling.”

Later that night Daphne cried as she opened her lone present, a green sweater with a silver D stitched across the front. 

--------------------------

He was drawing lazy circles on her belly with his nose pressed just under her right breast. The candles were wet and dripping with use and the soft glow was dimming around them. In this light, in any light really, she looked beautiful. 

Her heat had stopped the afternoon before, but they unspokenly resolved to stay in their den for the following holiday. 

They did not have sex or even touch sexually when she came down from her heat. And that was okay with Draco. She was shy and unsure when not in her haze. 

He ran a hand down her arm and rubbed his thumb over the scent gland on her wrist. Not enough to wake her, but enough to tell her he was there. He wasn’t going anywhere. Except, perhaps, to shower. 

The bathroom was lit with a single torch hung above the window and left a golden light just bright enough to navigate the bathroom without walking blindly. 

The water was welcoming and pulsing down on his sore muscles. A soft sound of footsteps at the door alerted him to a freshly woken Hermione with bleary eyes and wild curls that tumbled down around her baby pink bra. His heart could barely take the sight. 

“Hey you.” She whispered, a small sleepy smile on her face. 

“Join me?” He said softly back, afraid if he spoke any louder she would frighten and run away like a baby deer. 

She bit her lip and looked unsure, but nodded and stepped towards the clear crystal doors of the shower. He met her there and grasped her shoulders, spun her once, and unhooked her bra to let it fall forward to catch on her elbows. He placed a soft kiss to her shoulder where an indentation of a strap stayed and smirked when she shivered violently. 

Shly she gripped her knickers with both thumbs and slid them down her legs. When she joined him in the shower, he realized this was the first time he had the opportunity to look at her, really look at her, naked. 

Her hands were unconsciously moving and unmoving to cover more delicate spots of her body. Her breasts were a little larger than he thought they were and sagged in a way that was feminine and natural. Her hair was soaked from the water spray but still hung in damp curls that guided streams of water down her chest from the ends. Her nipped were small and perked, from his gaze or the difference in temperature he wasn’t sure. Her belly was flat on top and he could make out the line of a single rib, but it led down to a pouch at the bottom of her belly. Every goosebump was like a shadow in the golden light of the torch.  

She was beautiful and his cock was rock hard. 

Even in the dim light he could see her blushing. “Will you wash my back?”

“Course, come here.” He suds his hands with her washing lotion and lathered her shoulders first, kneading his palms into the tense muscles of her shoulders. She gave a low moan that wasn’t quite sexual, but relaxed, and his alpha purred. 

As he moved lower he dropped to his knees and washed the soft skin of her bum and the sensitive skin of her thighs and between then. When she stood straight her thighs touched and he nudged them apart to clean the stickiness from between them. He let the water was the suds away before turning her around, still knelt before her. 

She was a goddess from this angle. Her breast casting a shadow over her abdomen and her eyes flickered gold and brown. He kissed the hidden hip bone under the soft skin and when he blew hot breath to the curls that covered her clit, she shook and grabbed his face to guide him back to face level. Or at least, her face to his shoulder level. 

“Sorry, sweetness--”

“No! No, I… I want to try something else. If I can.”

If he was confused, the way she dropped down to her knees answered any questions. 

“I read about this,” She whispered and his cock twitched at the thought. “But application is much different, I imagine. Will you.. Will you help?”

He went to answer but hissed as she grabbed him lightly in a fist and guided him to her mouth. Her tongue flicked out to run along the seam of his head and gathered a drop of precum on the tip. He could tell she was rolling the taste in her mouth.

“It’s not as salty as I thought it would be.”

He gasped a laugh as she repeated the action. “Thank you?”

She giggled and gave him a squeeze. The noise he made was either a groan or a growl and it came from the depths of his chest. 

“And then I’m supposed to…” 

She took the head of him fully into her mouth and suckled lightly on it. His hips jerked forward on their own accord and a tad more slid into the hot cavern of her mouth. She didn’t seem to mind. 

“I’m not… Not sure what I do now…” Her smile was shy and inexperienced and he almost came right at the sight. 

He lightly took her hair in his hands and pressed his thumb to her lips, inviting her to open her mouth. 

“You’re doing great, sweet girl. Do just that but take more of me. Can you do that?”

She nodded her head eagerly with her mouth still open. Always the perfect student. 

Using her hair, he guided her lips to settle around him once more and slowly pulled her forward until her mouth was halfway on him. Any more and she would feel it on the back of her throat. He guided her once, twice, before his hips twitched and he felt the fleshy warmth of her throat hit against the sensitive slit of his head. Instead of choking, she hummed in slight discomforted pleasure and instead of pulling back, repeated the action again. 

He could feel the pressure building below his navel, humming and swirling. He was close.

“Merlin… Merlin, sweetness… Hermione… fuck.. If you don’t… ung… If you don’t stop I’m gonna… gonna…”

The last straw was her wrapping a small hand around his balls and tugging gently. With a loud, shuddering groan he exploded into the back of her mouth and she gave a small sound of surprise. 

Weakly he pulled her up by her shoulders and crushed his lips to hers in a lazy, possessive kiss. He could taste himself on the tip of her tongue as she swiped over his lips and he moaned. 

He pressed his forehead to hers and sighed, tracing her cheek with his thumb. 

“I think I love you, Hermione.”

Her heart was in her tummy in the worst and the best way. This is what she wanted. This is who she wanted. Her true alpha. Draco. 

But what about Delphinus? 

In this moment, under the stream of the shower and the dim lights of the torch, he didn’t matter. She would figure it out later. They would figure it out together. 

“I think… I think I love you too, Draco.” Her voice caught on his name, at the emotional implications. 

He held her like that, with strong arms wrapped around her shoulder and nuzzling into her hair. 

“What did you need to tell me before?”

He felt her shake her head under his chin. “Nothing important.”

And right now, it wasn’t important. In this moment, under the stream of the shower and the dim lights of the torch, he didn’t matter. She would figure it out later. They would figure it out together.

Chapter Text

“How did I know I’d find you here?”

Hermione’s smile was sheepish, but relieved when she spotted her long haired blonde friend strolling towards her otherwise vacant table in the corner of the library. 

Now that the new year had begun and students returned home from their holidays, quidditch was starting up again which left Hermione making library trips without Draco frequently. 

All at once it made her miss him and made her feel relieved. Her confession about Delphinus was at the tip of her tongue with ever meeting, but never quite made it past her lips. 

Instead she would smile and press her lips together as she watched Draco rant into theories of potion making that had his eyes sparkling. During particularly passionate talks he would say to her, “Fascinating isn’t it, sweetness?”  

And the way he looked at her when he said it, as if she was the only person who mattered to validate his enthusiasm made her heart squeeze and ache. 

So he stayed blissfully ignorant, the only thing keeping him up at night would be his own personal debates about what ingredient would be best to solidify potions.  

“Hi Daph, how was Christmas with the Weasleys?” 

“Great, actually. I would ask how Christmas here was, but you’ll ruin my imagination if you tell me.” 

Hermione scrunched up her nose so hard it creased her lips. “Gross, Daph. I don’t think of you and Harry like that, do I?”

Daphne gave a slow wink as she crossed her legs and propped them up onto the library table. “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“You spend too much time with Blaise.” Hermione shook her head with a raging blush. 

Daphne snorted. “Ever think Blaise spends too much time with me?” 

“I’m starting to.”

“Anyway, I spent most of the time with Molly cooking. She taught me to make a stew Harry likes. Love comes from the stomach, you know… among other places. What about you?”

Hermione bit her lip. “It was… It was good.”

“Good as in “good” or good as in “I sucked off Draco Malfoy in a shower and confessed our love for each other ``?'' 

Hermione let her lip go from her teeth and gasped. “He told you?”

“Not willingly, but I couldn’t stand that goofy smile on his face without knowing what caused it,” Hermione’s blush could fry an egg, “So I come here to find an equally goofy smile and instead I find a very sullen witch. Was it the blowjob?”

She couldn’t stop her lip from quivering and her eyes burned. 

“Daph… Daphne. I fucked up. God… God I fucked up so much.”

“Well damn, Hermione, everyone messes up their first time. I bit Rodney Davids so hard--”

“No! No, Daphne, you don’t get it! I... “

Through sobs she rummaged through her bag until she came upon a crumpled letter in beautiful red stationary. She slid it across the table to her friend with shaking fingers and watched her read it. 

“You wrote back, yeah? You feel guilty, is that it?” Her tone was gentle, but a little accusatory. 

Hermione shook her head, sobs falling into hiccups. 

“More... more than that, Daphne. Merlin, I accepted. I took the money.”

Daphne was pale before, but now she was ghost white. She swallowed hard, but kept a reassuring face. 

“Well that’s okay. We’ll send the money back, maybe throw in a few more for his troubles. It’s all a matter of semantics now--”

“I don’t h-have the m-m-money, Daph,” the girls was a mess, sniveling in grief. “I had him d-donate it t-to a… a charity. I c-can’t send it back b-because I don’t have it.” 

She shouted the last words, earning more than a few stares from her fellow students and a grumble from Madam Pince about the library and its conduct. She buried her head in her hands and wept. 

Wept for Draco. 

Wept for little curly blonde children she would never have. 

Wept for the moments she didn’t cherish while they sat at his table. 

She felt an arm around her and met the soft, concerned eyes of Daphne Greengrass. 

“Oh, Granger, what were you thinking?”

“I was scared, Daphne. I… I heard Draco talking to Blaise and he… he told him that he would never like me. I thought I’d leave Hogwarts and be accosted. I just… I just wanted a choice.”

“And over Christmas--”

“I do love him. So much. He’s so different than I thought he was. He’s gentle and brilliant and understanding and… and just…” She fell into wracking cries once more. 

Daphne tucked a curl behind her ear, “Hey, hey, shoosh now. I know it’s a lot of money,” Hermione sobbed, “But Draco’s a Malfoy. That’s play money to him--”
“I can’t ask Draco to do that. Especially after waiting so long to tell him. Merlin, if he knew I was betrothed when… when I said I loved him, it’d kill him. Daph, it really would. We have to think of another way.”

Daphne pressed her lips over her tongue in thought. “What if he marked you? Alpha laws are so lax, he wouldn’t be at fault for the loss of money and neither would you.”

Hermione shook her head, “Wouldn’t work, believe me. He’s so in control all the time. That’s why you picked him for me right? Well he’s bloody fucking good at it. He… You know when we...” Daphne nodded.

“It’s always… God this is mortifying… always from the back. Because he says if he looks at me, he's afraid he’ll lose control--”

“Well that’s just it then! You make him lose control. Make him look at you, Hermione. Make him mark you. Problem solved.”

She took a thumb and rubbed it under Hermione’s eyes. 

“Next heat okay? Make him rut.” 

--------

Hands covered her eyes and pressed her into the alcove behind the library. She would have screamed if she didn’t inhale the fresh scent of mint and sour cherries. The smell gave her peace. He was hers as long as he smelled of her. 

“Miss me, sweetness?” His breath smelled like sticky jam fanning across her cheek as he nuzzled his nose under her ear. 

She breathed out a laugh. 

“You don’t give me much time to miss you, don’t you think? I just saw you all but two hours ago at breakfast.”

He turned her to face him by her shoulders. His grin was boyish and mischievous and it made her heart ache. Who knew Draco Malfoy could smile that that? Had he ever? Would he ever again, if she left? 

“Oh, I could leave if you’d like.” He stuck a thumb to the entrance of the alcove. “Make you miss me.”

His eyes were filled with mirth and she couldn’t help but twitch a smile of her own. “Bold of you to assume you could make me do anything.”

His eyes flashed dangerously, all signed of laughter gone. “Is that so?”

Her own smile fell from her face and she worried her lip between a bard bite. He stepped back from her. 

“Turn around.” 

She shook her head with a daring smirk. “No.”

He raised an eyebrow and stepped towards her again until their chests were flush. 

“Turn around.” His voice was low this time, a deep rumble that vibrated from his chest to hers. 

“No…” But it was weak and trailed off, she could hear it. He could too. 

A finger trailed up the soft flesh of her thigh, grazing just above her knee. Her knee jerked involuntarily. 

“Turn around, sweet girl.” It was a purr, deep and thick into her ear. 

She felt herself move, press her abdomen against the stone wall behind her. 

She blushed. “Is this some omega thing?”

“No, it’s a you loving me thing,” Suddenly he was pressing against her, his hands caging her in on both sides of her head as he leaned in to graze the back of her ear with his teeth. “Can I tell you a secret?”

She felt her insides clench as warm breath slipped past her ears and down her neck. If his knee wasn’t holding her legs apart she would be rubbing them together to soothe the friction. 

“Mmm.” She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. 

“You could make me do anything, too.”

“Anything?” She gasped. 

“All you have to do is ask.” 

“What if… what if I asked you to mark me?”

And then suddenly the heat of his chest was gone from her back and Hermione stiffly turned to face him again. He didn’t look angry, which was a good sign. Not disgusted. He wasn’t laughing, which she had worried about. 

“Hermione, that’s… that’s a big step, yeah?”

“I know, I know. But I… I love you, Draco. What’s the difference with if you marked me now versus a year from now?”

Now he did look annoyed. 

Retreat, retreat, her omega tried to pull back her tongue but she kept it flat on the roof of her mouth. 

“What’s the diff- The difference, Hermione? It’s not getting engaged. It’s not even getting married. It’s… bonding. Blood and magic, bonding. What happens if I mark you and later you decide I’m not the alpha you want.” He choked on the last words, looking hurt to even say them. 

“I wouldn’t! I wouldn’t, Draco. I love you. There’s no one else for me but you.”

Except there was. 

“Granger,” He moved to cup her cheek and a tear spilled over his closed fingers. “I love you too. You know I do. But this, we’re not ready for this. I mean, Merlin, are we even dating? We haven’t celebrated a months anniversary and you’re talking about mating for life.”

She smacked his hand away from her face. “If you don’t want to, you just have to say so. No need to make me feel bad for asking.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to understand how Hermione Granger is rushing into something without months and months of consideration. What is going on with you?”

“What’s wrong with me?” She gasped, moving further against the wall to create an unreachable distance. “Just because you don’t want it doesn’t mean I--”

“You think I don’t want it?” His tone and his eyes were predatory as he stalked towards her on the wall. “You don’t think I want to throw you up against every wall in the castle and bite you so hard your flesh sticks to my teeth? You don’t think every time we’re together in your heat I don’t want to flip you over and make you beg for me to make you mine? Because I do, Hermione.”

“But you know what else? If I do that and you don’t want me anymore a year from now, there’s no escape. There’s no divorce. There’s no breaking up. You’d die. Do you think I want that?” 

She knew she was sobbing like a child having a tantrum, but she couldn’t help it. He didn’t understand, but he was right. Of course he was. 

His eyes seemed to soften at the sight of her crying. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. I… I don’t know what’s going on with you lately, but whatever it is...you should know you can tell me.”

He pulled her into a hug and she nuzzled her nose into where his shoulder met his collarbone. 

“You know where to find me.”

------

She knew exactly where to find him. 

Up in the air, just a tiny speck zooming from one side to the other. Hermione had to shield her eyes with the fan of her hand to block out the sun's light. 

He must have spotted her as he quickly descended and dropped from his broom in front of her. 

“Hermione--”

I’m sorry.

They said it at the same time and Draco let out a small chuckle. “I’ll go first, then?”

He led them to the thick splintered wood of the pitch stands. He bounced his knee when he sat. Nervous. 

“First, I want to apologize for yelling. That’s not me, not anymore. And I’m doing my best to… be better. I was acting like my old self because I was shocked and I was scared. But you don’t deserve that.” He sighed. “I’m going to say something and I don’t want you to be offended, okay? Just listen, yeah?”

She nodded, already thinking of retorts and defensive mechanisms. 

“I’ve been around magic forever. There are certain things I’ve grown up around, that I understand, that you don’t. Yet.” He added with a pointed look when she popped her mouth open to respond. 

“Yet. But I have a good 11 years on you right now. You didn’t even know about omegas and alphas until you presented, yeah? I’ve known about it my whole life and it’s… it’s tricky. When I said marking is more than marriage I meant it. It binds you forever, you’d never be able to leave. And if you did, if you tried to, the magic would kill you, do you understand? My magic would kill you.”

He took her hand in his and stroked his thumb over the upturned palm of her hand. 

“I swore to myself I’d never let anything or anyone hurt you again, long before you chose me to get you through your heats. And… And I love you now, Hermione. I can’t be the person to hurt you… again.”

“Draco--” Hermione whispered, turning her palm over to catch his hand in his. 

“No, no, let me finish just… please?” She nodded, feeling the tingle behind her nose of tears forming. “Sometimes during your heat I get so close to losing control. That’s why I’m so careful, that’s why we do it the way we do. It’s to protect you, from me.”
“I don’t need you to protect me.” She protested with a scoff.

“Don’t I know it.” His eyes were downcast, but he had a grin of admiration on his face. “Hermione fucking Granger, right? But it doesn’t matter. You could be the biggest, strongest, most powerful person in the world and I’d still protect you.”
“Hermione, I’m going to mark you. I want to. You know that now,” His grin turned sheepish. “Just not yet, yeah?”

He sighed and she could almost see the relief filling him and he exhaled the last words. 

“I love you too, Draco. And we… we can wait. Of course we can.”

She kissed him tenderly on his lips, feeling the pulse beat under the redness of his lips and his hot tongue swiping through the seam of her own quivering lips. 

It was an apology. An apology for what she’d have to do next. 

Chapter Text

They didn’t go on regular dates like Daphne and Harry did. 

There were no trips to Hogsmead or picnics on the pitch. 

There was, instead, libraries by candlelight with soft laughter and whispers of affection. There was, instead, grazes of feet under the table and wisps of fingers together as they reached for the same book. 

In all her immaturity, it felt most immature to call Draco her boyfriend. He was so much more. He was the fluttering of eyelashes past the library closing when he was succumbing to sleep but couldn’t bear to leave her. He was a strong hold on her waist as he guided her through the silent halls. He was silent kisses as to not wake the paintings and shushing when he playful pushed against the soft flesh of her thigh with his fingertips. He was the lingering in the hallway after she made it through the portrait, just to get one more glimpse. 

Daphne and Harry were simple love. Stolen kisses between classes. Butterbeers on the weekends. Easy and graceful and having all the answers laid out for you. 

After Voldemort, it was the kind of love Hermione felt she would have. Maybe with Ron. She would be able to make mistakes, big mistakes. Have messy breakups and rebounds and learning what she wanted in a partner. Pints of ice cream and burning pictures and losing her virginity in a soft bed after a romantic evening, lips sweet with wine and chocolate. Fumbling and messy and full of mistakes. She’s only 19. 

Draco was not that. He was better. He was putting feet up on a new couch, not scared if it got ruined if it was comfortable and you were happy. 

And she wished she would have met him later. After the messy, fumbling mistakes. After breakups and rebounds and learning what she wanted in a partner. Then, at the very least, her relationship immaturity wouldn’t affect him. 

She would be the right woman for him, then. She would be old, wiser. She wouldn’t jump on the first letter to pass her hands that would rid herself of him. She wouldn’t sneak behind bookshelves and listen in on conversations she didn’t understand. 

She would be older. Wiser. 

But that’s not how it was now. She was being messy. Making mistakes. And it was going to cost her, her forever. Her Draco. Her alpha. 

My dearest Hermione, 

I hope this letter finds you well. I’m sorry we were unable to meet yet. My schedule has, at the moment, delayed me from visiting outside the country. Because of your schooling, I cannot ask that you leave to meet me here, in such an unknown land. I’ll remain unable to visit for the next while, but I have a business meeting in early March in London and I will stop into Scotland to meet you. 

I will send another owl in February with more information about my trip. Only two more heats. I hope you’re getting through them alright, being unmarked. 

All the best, 

Delphinus Harrison

Two more heats. January, which was only but a few days away. And February. Two months. Two months to convince Draco to mark her. 

She rubbed her throbbing temples. 

“Fancy some tea for that headache?” 

She gave Harry a sheepish smile. She was supposed to be helping him with an advanced DADA essay, but her mind was drifting further and further away from where they were in the Gryffindor common room. 

“No, but I’d kill for a cup of coffee.”

“I’ll grab my cloak.”

-------

The kitchen was empty this late in the evening. After dinner the house elves disappeared into their chambers for rounds of poker and bingo. All that was left were a large, dimming fire that still lit the room in a soft glow, and soaking dishes. 

She thought back to all those months ago, when she sat in this very kitchen. At this small table. The first time she had seen Draco after the war. After his parents death. After his trial. 

She had expected a snappy, snobbish boy who wouldn’t dare touch a mudblood for all the galleons or thanks in the world. 

Instead, he was gentle with wide eyes and a soft tone that left her shivering. Instead of insults, he spoke slowly. As if choosing every word carefully. As if afraid his natural filter wasn’t good enough to be trusted. It probably wasn’t. 

The corners of her mouth twitched up when she remembered the way he followed her after she burst through the kitchen door.

“Granger, you bloody fool, I wasn’t saying no to helping you back there.”

“You weren’t?” Her eyes were hopeful, but unsure.

“Of course not. I just,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I’m the last person you should let do this. After.. After everything.”

She had expected him to laugh at her, to taunt her. The “Old Draco” would have. Except maybe there wasn’t an “Old Draco”. Maybe he was like that the whole time. Just out of reach.

The screeching of the chair startled her eyes up. 

The coffee placed in front of her was gold with cream and sugar. A little too light for her taste. 

“So what do we talk about first?”

“Give me a list and I’ll pick.” She shrugged, taking a small sip. Definitely too light. 

He began ticking off his fingers.

“Well, there’s the fact that you and Malfoy are dating, the fact that you have an American alpha lined up, your trip to Australia--”

“Australia first, please.” She cringed into her cup. “It was… amazing. Seeing them, I mean. After everything.”

“And your mum’s magic?”

She looked up at him. “Draco told you?”

“He told Daphne. Which honestly, with that mouth on her, is just as good as telling me directly.” 

Hermione’s mouth pulled into a tight, but amused smile. 

“I… I wish there was someone I could talk to about it. Ask questions. Did she go to Hogwarts? Why didn’t she tell me about it? Especially when I got my letter. DId my dad know? Was he the reason she didn’t practice?” She set her mug down with a sharp thud. “And then when I came come crying because I’ve been called a mudblood, she doesn’t tell me then? That I’m not? I was almost killed because of it. I--”

“Does it matter?”

“What?”

He took off his glasses and began wiping them on the corner of his shirt. 

“I mean, does it matter? Would you have done things differently if you knew? Would you have been anti-muggleborn with the rest of them?”
She huffed, “Of course not.”

“But you might have,” A pointed stare. “Maybe your mum was scared of magic. Lupin told me magical education wasn’t mandatory until they finished school. Maybe she made her choice.”

“But why not tell me?”

“Why not tell Draco about the American?”

She was silent then. 

“Hermione. I love you. You’re my best friend in the world. And I know… I know this is all very new. I know I’m lucky I at least had Ginny and Ron had Lavender to teach us. But keeping secrets is the number one way to not be in a healthy relationship.”

“And then what, Harry?” Her voice was raising and her hands were shaking, knocking against her mug. The cream inside was swirling. Much, much too light. “You don’t know Draco like I do--”

“But I know men--”

“--I’ve kept this from him for months! He’d be devastated. He’d leave anyway. He’d think I was using him to fix my mistakes--”

“He wouldn’t--”

“He would, Harry. And then-- and then he’d leave…” The cream was sloshing over the top of the glass with her trembling hands. 

There was something inside her crawling from her stomach, up to her throat. The dim heat of the fire felt scorching on her back. 

“Hermione, calm--”
“He’d leave and I-I’ll be off to America to live with him, Harry--”

She felt like tearing at her clothes. Felt like stripping her flesh from the bone. The water dripping steadily from the leak in the sink looked so inviting. 

“Hermione,” His voice was gentle, as if caging in a wild animal, “Hermione, you really have to calm down--”

She couldn’t. There was no way to escape this. Her omega was fiercely clawing at her belly. The smell of Harry was potent and made her gag. 

Draco. Draco. She needed Draco. What was happening?

“Draco, Draco, Draco,” She was clutched over, panting. Ripping at the seams of her jeans. There was a thick layer of sweat between her thighs. 

A gulping sniff told her it wasn’t sweat. It was slick. It was slick and she was hot. 

She was going into heat. Three days early. 

“Harry… ugh,” A fierce pulling in her gut made her hunch over. 

Harry was quickly around the table, fastening a hand over her wrists, still clawing at her jeans. 

“Don’t touch me.” She yanked the offending hand away from her with long nails. She couldn’t be bothered to feel guilty at the raised, bleeding marks on his hand. 

“Hermione, what’s going on, what can I do?” 

Of course. He’s never seen me in heat before. He doesn’t know what’s going on. 

But the only thing she could say was “Draco, Draco, alpha, please.”

He looked like he was about to touch her again and an animal hiss escaped her teeth. He quickly drew back.  

“Okay… okay, I’ll go get him, okay? Stay… Stay here.”

And where the fuck would I be going? 

He was stumbling out the door, knocking over chairs and clattering utensils in his wake. 

Just as the kitchen door slammed behind him, her nails finally broke the seams free and her hands began ripping at them. Stretching them apart until the white thread broke and exposed her legs into the air. She hissed at the exposure on her hot skin. 

A shaking hand reached down, finding her clit. She was so slick her small fingers slid unsatisfyingly over the nub, never being able to get a good latch on it. 

Draco, Draco, alpha, where are you?

------------

“You do realize what time it is, yeah?”

“ Yes, Zabini...I know... But... I need... you to get...Malfoy--”

“Daphne is going to be very disappointed when she hears you weren’t looking for her. A new development I should know about?”

The dungeons were a good ways away from the kitchens and by the time Harry made it to the entrance, words escaped him as merely breaths. 

He pounded rapidly at every wall of stone, trying to find the door. 

Fucking Slytherins can’t have a fucking normal portait.

Blaise was who opened for him, unfortunately for him. 

“I’m not…” A wheeze escaped him, hands falling to his knees. “Fucking around… Zabini…. Hermione… Hermione…”
Suddenly a flash of blonde was behind the dark man in front of him. 

“Hermione, what?”

His tone was serious. His eyes were flashing. His nostrils were flaring as if he would be able to smell what was wrong with her. Maybe he could. 

“Freaking… Started… She couldn’t… She…”

“Come on, Potter, spit it out.” There was something wrong. He could feel it. He felt it when he woke up just moments ago. 

Harry wheezed again, gulping in breaths. 

“Hot… She… Got… Hot…”

And then suddenly Draco was gone, dashing down the hall and disappearing around the corner. 

Heat. She had put herself into heat. And he had to find her. 

“Didn’t… Didn’t say… Where she… Was…”

Blaise shrugged, “He’ll smell her out.”

Another wheeze. “Good… Good…”

Blaise looked concerned in all a matter of a moment, his usual air of cocky amusement gone. 

“Hey, Potter, you okay?”

“Yeah… yeah…” Another wheeze. “Just…”

And then he was gone, passing out into the puddle of vomit that came with it.

Chapter Text

He could smell her from down the hall, just as he had in the traincare all those months ago. 

A bitch in heat, Blaise had said. Unmistakeable. 

When he found her she was a blubbering mess on the floor. Her jeans were torn at the seams, little splotches of blood staining white threading from where her nails dug up. 

The ground below her was sopping wet with her slick as her hands dug into her panties, seeming to be reaching nothing in particular. Her thighs trembled and her toes curled into the floor. 

She couldn’t have noticed him walk in. Her cries too loud, too desperate to make way for the noise of the door opening. And yet through her gasps and pants she chanted alpha, alpha, alpha.

For a moment his heart stopped. That perhaps she was calling for any alpha to come and save her from this heat. And they would. They would come. He needed to get her out of there. 

“Omega,” he approached her slowly, as not to startle her. “Hermione, we’ve got to get you to our room, okay? It’s not safe for you here.”

When he bent next to her, it was like there was no soul in her body. Her eyes were dark, even in the dim light of the kitchen fire. Too dark. Glassy with arousal and tears that leaked down her temples. 

“Ple-ase,” Her voice broke, hoarse with her cries. “I can’t… I can’t…”

“You can, omega, I know you can. I want you to. I need you to come with me. Okay?”

She didn’t even seem to hear him. She blinked slowly. Each time her eyes opened, they hooded just a bit more. 

“Please. Please, Draco. Alpha. Please.”

The white cotton of her panties were transparent with her slick. He watched as pink fingers fought their way through folds, trying to hold onto whatever she could find. Clawing her way to relief. 

Fuck. He had to do this here. Now.

“ Colloportus!” He shouted at the door. Thick pieces of wood fell down around the door, locking it in place. 

His alpha breathed a little easier then. No one could come in now. Not in her vulnerable state. No alphas. 

None but him. 

When he finally touched the skin of her stomach, she was scorching. Once, as a child, he prepared muffins with Dobby and accidently touched the door of the oven. He had snatched his hand away quickly, but it left small blisters on his hand.

She was even hotter than that. 

She hissed as his cool touch, wiggling to push the hands harder against the skin. It was like a bucket of water in a gas fire. 

“Please. Please. Please.”

She was crying harder now. Her fingers pumped furiously into her cunt. Small, nimble fingers that barely stretched her opening. Draco fumbled with the button of his pants, stumbling out of them.  

He was hard from the moment he smelled her in the hall. 

When his pants finally found their way around his ankles he crawled over her. His hand plucked hers from where it was buried inside her knickers and the moment her fingers slipped from her entrance, to Draco’s horror, she started screaming bloody murder. 

Thrashing, squealing, clawing. Trying to make her hands way back down to where it was relieving her. The fire was unbearable without it. 

“Shh, my sweet girl.” He hushed her. 

“No!” She yelped, “Hurts… hurts…”

Her knees were kicking at the hips that tried to spread them. He hissed at a well aimed kick to the side. Finally, he was able to turn her over. One hand held her two wrists behind her back as she screamed and sobbed for something, anything. 

When he pushed into her, she went stiff underneath him. Paralyzed. Eyes glassy and gazing back at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. 

“I’m here, omega. I’m here, sweet girl.” Each word was punctuated with a rolling thrust that had her eyes lulling into her head. 

On one particularly deep thrust, where the head of his cock nudges at the flesh of her cervix, she threw her head back in a silent scream. 

The cords of her throat were pulsing, surrounding the swelled scent gland like a cord halo. 

Bite me, bite me, bite me. 

It was screaming at him. Pushing pheremones into the air and surrounding him in a cloud of cherry. Sticky, sweet, supple cherry. 

If he just bent, just a little, he could taste it on his lips.

He could crack it open with his teeth. 

His, his, his.

No, he shook his head. I promised her.

“Hurts… hurts… fire…” She cried at him, arching her hips higher to allow him wider access.

“I know. I know, baby… Let go… You’ll feel so much better if you just.. let...go…” 

She did. Her wrists flexed and trembled under his hand. The veins in her throat stilled, then bobbed with the force of her shuttered groan. 

Her pussy clamped on him so violently he was unable to move. Instead he sat, stuck inside her throbbing cunt as the fever in her body burned away into ashes. 

A small crack made Draco whip his head towards the sound. 

“Oh! Oh my’s! Oh my’s!”

Draco groaned. 

“Hey, Missy.”

“Miss and mister… Missy is so sorrys. We’s got complaints about noise. So sorrys. Oh my’s… Oh my’s.”

Hands too small covered large eyes and Draco didn’t know if she was say “oh my” or “oh my eyes” anymore. 

-----

He ended up carrying her through the halls to their corridor. The amount of pressure and stress from her heat caused her to faint in the throes of orgasm and she didn’t wake until much later in the night with her head tucked under Draco’s chin. 

“You gave me quite a scare there, sweet girl.”

She smiled sheepishly and tugged the covers tightly around them both. After the heat passed, it made it feel even colder. 

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Hermione, you put yourself into heat… what were you thinking?” 

She scoffed and turned to face him. “Well it’s not like I meant to--”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” He rolled his eyes and tucked her back under his chin. Afraid if he let her go she would fall back into her heat. “I mean literally. The only way to push yourself into heat like that is stress. So… what were you thinking?”

“Harry and I… We… We were talking.”

He kissed her temple. “Yes, love, I rathered. What about?”

She could tell him. She could explain.

“Um, N.E.W.T.S?” 

Fuck you, Hermione. 

Draco chuckled. “Leave it to you to put yourself in heat over school.”

“Well.. you know me…”

“I do. I love you. Crazy bint.”

Yes. Fuck you, Hermione. 

That was two days ago now. Draco didn’t let go of her for a second. His hands were always on her, checking her body temperature. 

He rubbed her knee when she ate. 

Stroked her hair as she read.

Washed her back when they bathed. 

She woke up each morning in a vice grip of lean, pale muscle. 

During their times of intimacy, she would arch her neck back. Throw as many pheremones in the air as she could and squeeze at her nasal passage until her throat contracted and pulled across her scent gland. 

A few times she caught his eye from a side glance. His eyebrows were furrowed, glassy. Hazed. Through parted, bee-stung lips she saw his teeth grow and sharpen. So close. So, so close.

But then, he would look away. Breathe in air that wasn’t pulsing with her scent. Control himself. Compose himself.

He didn’t know they didn’t have time for control. No time for composure. 

 35 days until the end of her next heat. 

840 hours.

50,400 minutes.

3,024,000 seconds. 

The clock was mocking her. The ticking was a heartbeat. Shattering. 

3,024,999 seconds. 3,024,998 seconds. 3,024,997 seconds. 

There wasn’t enough time. Not enough time for them. 

Her skin was heating again. Could he feel it on her knee as he rubbed her? Could he hear her heartbeat ticking through the clock on the wall?

She stood suddenly, knocking the chair she once sat in behind her. Breaking the contact of her knee to the pad of his thumb. If he knew she was in heat, it wouldn’t work. This wouldn’t work. 

“Hermione?” 

His brows were furrowed. Were her eyes glassy? Did he know? 

Make him stop looking. 

She grabbed the book perched in his fingers easily out of his hand.

“Hermione, wha--”

She smashed her lips to his. Suckling on the thin skin of his lower lip. Swirling her tongue into his mouth. He moaned. 

Good. He wasn’t looking. 

Today he sat with the chair facing the table with its back to the wall. She swung her leg over his lap, settling herself on his knees.

He broke the kiss. “Hermione--” he panted, but she took his lips on hers once more. 

No more waiting. 

They didn’t wear much when they were in their corridor. She wore light sundresses with no knickers. He wore cotton briefs only. 

Easy access , he once joked. She knew it was. She was taking advantage of it. 

I’m so sorry, Draco. 

“Look at me,” She begged. He closed his eyes tighter. She ran a hand down to cup him through his briefs. 

Her body was on autopilot. Her heat and anxiety pushed her fingers under the waistband. 

“Look at me,” She said again, squeezing him bare handed on his cock. 

He whimpered, shaking his head. His hips jerked up to catch her fist as she moved it away. The only way to get her off now would be to throw her over the table. Hurting her. He wouldn’t. She knew it. She was taking advantage of it.

“Alpha,” she purred. “Look at me.”

He did. She sunk herself down on him. His jaw twitched. His fangs bit into his lips, a droplet of blood pooled on the flushed surface of his chin. 

She reached forward to lick it. 

On the tips of her toes she bounced herself on him. Each inhale of his chest grazed her puckered nipples. 

Their first time facing each other. The first time looking at each other. 

His eyes were dark. He whimpered through clenched teeth. 

“Hermione, please… I can’t… I can’t control…”

She pushed her hair back from her shoulder. 

“Don’t control it, Draco.” She rode him harder. His fingertips left bruises on her hips. Trying to stop her? Or force her down harder?

It hurt. The small spots would leave bruises. Crescents from his fingernails. She deserved it. 

“Hermione… Hermione…” His mouth was open now. His hips jumped to meet hers. 

His fangs grazed her lips. She gasped as she felt the skin tear at the sharp point. He lapped at it with his tongue. 

I’m sorry, I’m sorry I hurt you. 

No, Draco, I’m sorry. 

Faster her hips ground down onto him. His eyes were black. So little white in them now they looked like the abyss. 

His lips pulled back into a snarl. Still trying to control it. Still keeping his composure. But his hips flew up to pound into hers. 

“Bite me, Draco.”

He groaned. 

“Bite me.”

He shook his head, his cock pumping harder into her now.

“Bite me, alpha.” 

With a cry she felt his knot swell, tearing at the skin between her holes. Tears leaked from her eyes. And then suddenly, his teeth were in her. 

A moment where time stood still. 

No ticking. No heartbeats. 

He looked up at her. His teeth and gums stained with her blood. 

She looked down. A bite mark in her breast. He didn’t mark her. It didn’t work. 

“Granger,” He started. 

It was the old Malfoy. She flinched. 

“What the fuck was that?”

And then the ticking was back. 

3,023,786 seconds. 3,023,785 seconds. 3,023,784 seconds.

Chapter Text

“You can die of a broken heart — it's scientific fact — and my heart has been breaking since that very first day we met. I can feel it now, aching deep behind my rib cage the way it does every time we're together, beating a desperate rhythm: Love me. Love me. Love me.” 

-Abby McDonald, Getting Over Garrett Delaney

“Well?” He snapped and she flinched. 

“I… I....” What was she to say? What was there to say after that?

“You.. You…” Mocking. “What?”

He’s only doing it because he’s hurt. 

She hurt him. 

Her omega was sobbing, begging her to fix it. She could barely breathe enough to get words out. Her calves shook from balancing herself on her toes.

His knot sat stretched inside her, still pulsing. His chest red and expanding from the force of his orgasm and the anger that bubbled up in his throat. 

“I…” Her eyes darted around the room. 

His hand came up to grip her trembling chin, holding her face towards his. 

Here they were. Finally face to face. Finally connected, knotted together. His mark on her. Except this is not how she imagined it. 

Instead of nuzzling her and whispering words of love and devotion, shaking in the aftermath of their shared bonding, he sat shaking in pure rage. Instead of his hands caressing the mark on her neck, his mark, they laid balled into fists at his side. 

Her breast was sticky with blood, the piercing so deep she could see the yellow of fat and tissue under the drying red. 

His lips were pulled back in a sneer. When was the last time he looked at her like that? Like she was nothing? 

Where was her Draco? She only saw Malfoy. 

“Spit it out.” He spat and she flinched again. 

“I had to… I had to… He was going to take me away from you, Draco, I had to--”

“Who? Who was going to take you away?”

“H- him!” She flailed her arms and Draco reached up to steady her on his lap. 

She hissed when he touched the spots of bruises he left on her hips. He drew back immediately. As if he realized only then that he had touched her.

“Who is him?” He asked through gritted teeth. 

And then she told him. Told him everything. 

He and Blaise in the library. 

Dinner.

The red envelope. 

Finally, when she told him about the money, about the charity, about her plan to get out of it; she sobbed. 

Her body shook and stuttered. Before, before this, when she would need to cry Draco would rock her. Tuck the blankets tightly around them. Rub his thumb over her brow and temple. 

But there was no Draco here. Only Malfoy. 

She wanted to reach her palm out and touch his chest, rub soothing circles over the fine hair that separated the muscles. Tuck the blankets tightly around them. Rub her thumb over his brow and temple. 

Because as much as she was hurting, he was surely hurting worse. 

She betrayed him. Her omega curled into itself and cried. 

He was silent after that. Didn’t look at her. Taking shallow breaths. She felt his knot begin to soften and shift inside her. 

She knew once it slipped out, he would be gone. And she deserved it. 

“You told me you loved me.” He said softly. 

“I do, I do love you.” Compared to his whisper, her sobs sounded like screams. 

“Love isn’t like that. I told you everything… Everything. And this whole time..”

His bottom lip quivered and he looked away. 

She sat still. Had she ever seen him cry before? Had anyone? She reached out to touch his cheek and he whipped back as if she was about to burn him. 

“I love you.” She held her trembling hand, the one that reached out, to her chest. 

“Get off.”

“I… I love you.” She tried again. 

“Stop it.” He whispered. 

“Draco… Draco please. I-I love you.”

“I said stop--” His chest was heaving agan. 

“Alpha--”
“I’m not your fucking alpha.”

His eyes shot to hers. He looked just as shocked to have said it as she felt to hear it. 

They tell you that dying of a broken heart isn’t real, but it is. She read it about it in a book, of course. 

Formally known as takotusubo cardiomyopathy. 

“Get off.”

symptoms are brought on by emotional or physical stress such as the death of a loved one or the breakup of a romantic relationship. 

“Draco...” 

Symptoms include the following.

“Please. Please get off.”

Sudden, severe chest pain.

She rose from his lap, her nightgown falling around her thighs.

Shortness of breath.

He rose and began shoving his belongings into his satchel. 

Irregular beating of the heart. 

It wasn’t just what he brought for the past few days. It was everything. The book he let her borrow. The sweater he kept on the nightstand. 

Cardiogenic shock.

She stood in the corner, wringing her hands together. Opening and closing her mouth. Nothing she could say would make it better, but her omega pushed her to say something. Anything. Fix this. 

Fainting.

He threw on a pair of trousers and a shirt haphazardly. 

Low blood pressure.

She reached her hand out to him. One more try. 

Heart failure.

He pushed past her hand.

May result in death.

“It’s over.” 

The door swung open, the wards unlocked. And he was gone. 

She fell to the floor on her knees and howled, her heart breaking. She willed it to kill her. 

------

He stalked down the hall, robes billowing behind him. 

He was still shaking. 

That fucking bitch. That wonderful, smart, stupid, awful fucking bitch. 

He told her he loved her. He had never said it to anyone. Not even his mother. 

He can’t even remember if the words “I love you” ever formed on his lips before that day. 

He had practiced it in the mirror in the weeks prior. He wanted it to be right. He didn’t want to stutter. He didn’t want her to mistake the words. 

I love you.

I love you.

I love you. 

Over and over again. He tried different inflections, different facial expressions. He tried whispering it, he tried screaming it. 

But then when they were in the shower, when he held her under the stream; he forgot all his practise. He said it like he’d done it a million times before. 

It was natural. It was easy. That’s what he thought love should be. 

“Oof-the fuck, Malfoy?” 

He went out of his way to shove his shoulder into an unsuspecting fourth year. It made his arm throb. It felt good, it felt real. 

What was real anymore? 

The whole time she was speaking with… with him. 

Delphinus fucking Harrison. 

American wizarding politics extraordinaire. An alpha. 

His heart clenched. Her alpha. 

She wrote to him for months. Did she speak to him how she spoke to him? Did she say the same things? Did she… did she say she loved him too?

“ Serpentibus!” He barked at the wall, which slowly shifted into the brass encrusted door of the Slytherin common room. 

“Drake! How-woah.” 

Blaise, Daphne, and Harry sat in an unformed circle around the fire, a deck of wizarding cards between them. 

He must have looked evil. His fangs still out, his teeth stained red, dried blood crusting his lips. He felt evil. He felt wronged. 

He rounded on Daphne. 

“ You.”

She said nothing. Her eyes were wise and scared. He could smell her fear and guilt pulsing the air. Or maybe it was his. 

He made to walk towards her, but Harry stood suddenly and pushed her behind him with his feet. 

“Watch it, Malfoy. You can say what you need to from there.”

“Fine.” He spat, little droplets of blood-filled spit flying into the air. Her blood. He snapped his eyes to Daphne and she flinched. “You know why I’m here, don’t you?”

“Yes.” She whispered. 

“What’s he talking about Daph?” Harry turned his face down to look at her and she bit the tip of her nail. 

“Yes, Daphne. Why don’t you tell Potter here what you told my girlfriend? Oh, I’m sorry, ex- girlfriend.”

She looked surprised at this. Her lips popped off her nail and her eyes trailed from the floor to his. 

“You… But your teeth…”

“Daph--” Harry started, but Draco interrupted him. 

“Oh trust me, I did bite her. This is her blood. I just had enough control to avoid the glands. But that’s not what you wanted, was it?”

“Draco, I--”

“What was the word you used? Make him rut, I think she told me?”

“I was just trying to help--”

“ Help ?” He screamed, ignoring the way Harry closed his legs tighter around her and twitched his hand towards his wand. “You want to know how you could have helped? You could have left me out of this. You could have not offered me up. You could have not made me… made me... “ He fisted his hands and rubbed them at his eyes. “You made me love her. You pushed and pushed and pushed and finally I said, ‘fine, after all the shit in my life I deserve some happiness, right’? Don’t I, Daphne? Don’t I?” 

“Of course.” She whispered. She rose to her feet and made to move to him and Harry sneered and Harry held her back. 

“You think I deserve to be happy? Then leave me alone. If you think I deserve to be happy, you’ll keep her away from me. Got it?” 

She looked to Harry, then to Blaise who sat opened mouthed and sullen on the floor. 

“Got it.”

He flew past them, up the stairs to his room. His wand trembled in his hands. 

Draco was a nice man. A respectable one. One he built by himself. 

Malfoy was a cruel, sneering boy. One that was formed for him by years with his father. 

Malfoy brought him years of misunderstanding. Of war. Of death. 

Draco brought him the worst pain he ever knew. 

“Bombarda!” 

His chair spintered. 

Draco brought him heartache. Malfoy brought him fear.

“ Bombarda!” 

A mirror shattered. 

Draco brought him betrayal. Malfoy brought him power.

“ Bombarda!” 

His pillows were not feathers in the air. 

Malfoy would protect him from this with cold disinterest. Draco would not. 

He fell to his knees, his shoulder shaking and his knees rocking. 

Draco Malfoy did not cry. On his hand he could count every single time he’s shed a tear after his toddler age, when Lucius distilled in him that men don’t cry. One, when his mother lost his sister. Two, when he was given the mark. Three, after he watched Hermione tortured in his home.  Four, when she had forgiven him for it all. And now, when she had broken his heart. 

----

The prefect bathroom was empty during dinner most nights. Each house prefect was mandated to attend and chaperone the younger students. No one to use the bathroom during dinner. 

Draco often snuck in when he could charm the password out of a prefect girl. Today, he pressed a young boy against the wall and ordered the password out of him. Both methods worked just fine. 

He smelled like her. He couldn’t make it go away. He lit candles, scourgify’d all his clothes, burned the sweaters she used. Nothing. She lingered on him like feather-light touches. 

Before, before this, it was a comfort. She was always there. If he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, the ripe cherry smell would fill him. He would think of her hair. Her smile. Her pouty lips. Her eyes. Those doe eyes that he was so scared would undo him. 

Now it was a reminder. She wasn’t his, she never would be. She had chosen her path and it led her to America. With him. 

His alpha had been dead silent since he denounced her. Draco couldn’t tell if it was mad at him for walking away or afraid if it made itself known it would make Draco destroy the castle. 

To get to her. To fix this. 

There was no fixing this. 

She had chosen her path and it led her to America. Led her to him. 

He had to remind himself of that. 

There were dozens of faucets of scents in front of him. He used them all. It gave him a piercing migraine. His brain pulsed against his skull. But it masked the scent of her. Of them. If only for a moment. 

The loofah he brought with him was hard like a brillo pad. Its edges cut into his pores and stripped her away. He scrubbed over and over the same areas. 

His chest. 

She ran a hand down his shoulders, circling the muscles of his chest. “I love you.”

His palms. 

She turned over his palm in her hand and drew lazy patterns over it with her nail. Y.O.U.R.S

His forearm. 

When she came, her head threw itself back. She reached for something to steady her in the aftermath, her fingers biting into the soft flesh of his forearm. 

She scrubbed and lathered until the skin was red and laced with jagged cuts. Until each pore was extracted from her scent. 

When he laid in his bed that night, the smell was back. Cherry and mint. 

Cherry, cherry, cherry. 

He curled into himself under the covers, surrounding himself in a suffocating cocoon of her scent. Of their scent. The only thing he had left of them. 

He was glad, for the moment, he wasn’t able to scrub her away. That had to mean something.

Chapter Text

“Ohhh-Merlin!” Daphne’s voice whimpered as she threw her head back, the bottom wisps of her hair fluttering over the curve of her lower back. A strong hand gripped it into a fist and tugged it down, taunting her neck and exposing it to his hot mouth. 

Her elegant, long fingernails bit into the soft flesh of his shoulder and he hissed, nipping her throat with his teeth in warning. The bed under them groaned from their abuse as she unhooked her claws from his shoulder and wrapped them around the wood of the headboard behind his head. 

Even with her punishing pace, she leant her head down to gently lap at the crescent cuts that she left. Using the sturdiness of the headboard she rocked up and down, waiting until the just the tip of his cock was nestled before slamming herself down again.

“Fuck, Daph,” a rough voice rumbled against her neck as his hand scrambled to her hip, “Slow… Slow down.”

“So good,” she whined, flexing her knees to bounce faster. 

She yelped as his hips bucked up harder into her, forcing his cock up against the deepest spot inside of her. His hand on her hip moved to grip under her thigh, his other found its place against her lower back. He lifted his hips again, forcing himself deeper as he lifted her with him, she lost her grip on the headboard and felt herself falling back onto the soft bed. She reached out to him, losing her hands in his thick black hair as he leaned down to kiss her. She rocked her hips against him to keep the friction and he growled into her mouth.

“If you don’t fucking stop I’m gonna come,” He warned against her lips. 

“Don’t care… Don’t care… Please…” she refused to let up. 

He was buried so deep in her and with his sharp pelvis narrowing on her clit she could feel the tension winding up in her belly as she ground against him. The hand under her thigh moved to her calf, pushing her knee against his chest. When he repeatedly slammed against her cervix her eyes rolled back into her head as her mouth formed a long groan that ended with a squeal as he reared back and plunged even harder into her. 

“Come with me,” He licked the pad of his thumb and brought it between them. Tight, fast curves of his digit against her clit tightening the pleasure in her belly. She saw the leg against his chest twitching, and she knew was close. Her toes flexed and curled against his shoulder as she went silent, mouth open but no air escaped or entered. 

“Come, Daph,” he bent so his mouth was on her earlobe, his breath against her neck sent shivers down her spine as he tucked an earlobe between his teeth. 

“Can’t… I can’t… Too much..” 

He leaned back and watched her, saw how her cheeks flushed, how her body was slick and sticky with her sweat. She loved every minute of his eyes on her as she felt her breasts bounce against her chest, and grabbed one of them and squeezed it hard, enjoying the sight of the apple bobbing in his throat as he looked at her hungrily. 

He instantly slowed down, dragging his cock back through her folds at a torturously slow pace, letting her feel every detail of him. With every stroke, she shivered.  

His thumb worked harder, pressing down and flicking faster over her, a stark contrast to the steadiness of his strokes. 

Her calf flexed and twitched against him, the pleasure twisting so tightly inside her she bowed her back. With one last drag of his thumb, she snapped. A choked scream fell from her throat as she anchored herself to the body in front of her. 

He collapsed on top of her and she welcomed the weight, only barely hearing the mumbled fuck into her neck before he pulsed inside her, seeping wetness down between them. 

She rubbed her hands up his back, stroking through the locks of hair on his head as they gathered their breath

“Are you mad at me?” She dared to whisper after their breathing evened, hiding her face in his neck. 

He rolled off onto his side but kept her tucked under his chin. “After that? How could I be?”

A lazy hand came up to push against his chest. “You know what I mean.”

“I’m not,” He sighed. “I just… wish you told me.”

He kissed the top of her head, “You were just trying to be a good friend--”

“Yeah and evidently I suck at it.” Her voice was muffled by Harry’s chest.

He kissed the crown of her head. "We still have one more trick up our sleeve, yeah?" He chuckled. “I hate to say it, but I think Malfoy is the only blameless one here.”

She hummed in bashful agreement. “I feel guilty,” She said quietly. “He’s been so… so…”

“Like his old self?” 

He felt her nod against him and he tightened the arm around her waist. 

Draco had become Malfoy. More specifically, Malfoy the Menace. 

It had been three weeks since the day he burst into the common room. He didn’t leave for four days. 

The only sign of life Daphne was granted was the few times he allowed Blaise to bring him water or juice. Never food. 

When he finally emerged, he was an empty shell. Through his slightly open door Daphne could make out splinters of wood, shattered glass, splayed feathers. He probably didn’t sleep either.

When he was out of the room, Daphne and Blaise worked to fix it. Magic stitching together what he destroyed. If he appreciated the gesture, he didn’t show it. 

He stopped going to the Great Hall for dinner. Blaise caught sight of him without his shirt and said there was an extra rib sticking out. Daphne wrapped pastries in a napkin and left them at his door. Blaise said the rib was gone again. 

Harry told her in potions one day, a class he shared with Hermione, his hands had trembled so bad he slipped cutting a bezoar and ruined his potion. He knocked over the cauldron and stormed from the room. He never returned to potions. Daphne went to Slughorn to request makeup work. She did it all for him. 

He started to purposely bump into people just so he could lash out if they said anything. Blaise confessed one night Draco had egged on a boy to hit him and when he did, Blaise said he smiled. He didn’t let Blaise fix the bruise.

---

Hermione was faring just was well. She had become so accustomed to Draco’s presence.To their library dates. To their goodnight kisses. To his ghosting hand on her thigh. 

She spent one late night in the library, at their table. Not reading, just sitting. Waiting. 

He never showed up and she never returned. 

The smell of mint was seeping from her pores, fast. In a panic she refused to shower for five days just so she could hold onto it for just a bit longer. 

His scent lingered in hallways he had frequented and like an addict, she purposely walked through them to gulp the smell. He, perhaps fortunately, was never in the halls by the time she tracked it. He was probably scenting her out too, but to keep himself away. 

It was like a game of cat and mouse and Hermione was both. 

The thinner the smell around her, the more she noticed the other alphas. For months they paid her no mind as she was scented so thoroughly by Draco, but now…

In class she could see their fingers twitching. In the Great Hall their eyes flickered towards her constantly. Ron had opted to eat in the kitchens. Even Blaise began staring just a tad too long before catching himself. 

Daphne began walking her to and from class under the guise of a friendly gesture, but Hermione knew better. She was protecting. She knew the farther the scent slipped away, the more vulnerable she was. 

Delphinus had become more persistent in his letters as well.  

Almost weekly a red envelope would come attached to a regal owl. He spoke of America, of politics, of meeting. Of mating. 

When Draco talked about her heats, or about their mating, he made it feel normal. It was like talking about marriage. Excitement, but normalcy. 

When Delphinus spoke of mating, it was a business agreement. She once asked how the ritual would work? To her, meaning where and when and would she bite him too? Instead he used words like “penis” and “vagina” and she would cringe, having to look away from the letter. She never asked about mating again. 

She learned a lot about him through his letters. He had a younger sister. His parents had died when he was younger and they lived with non-magical relatives who disapproved of magical use. When he arrived at Ilvermorny, he was sorted into Wampus, which he described as a mix between what she would know as Gryffindors and Slytherins. 

Each letter reminded her of a novel she had read long ago.

A woman is not to marry a man merely because she is asked, or because he is attached to her, and can write a tolerable letter.

But that’s what she had done, wasn’t it? 

She flinched and crumbled up the latest letter and threw it into her cup of pumpkin juice, watching the white parchment soak orange. 

She watched a leg twitch at her side and she glanced to find Dean Thomas, red faced and huffing.

“Dean, are you alright?” 

He gave a tight nod. She reached her hand out to feel his cheek in a motherly manner and he hissed, flinching away. 

“Dean?” But he was already gone. Sweeping his things from the floor and pushing his way through the students entering the hall. 

A confused Daphne watched him as he bumped against her arm, muttering a sorry before dashing off. Hermione watched her sniff the air and even though Hermione was among hundreds of other faces, Daphne was able to lock onto hers. 

She was panicked. 

Hermione’s heart sped up. The scent. It was gone. No more protective blanket. It had been stripped away and now…

“Go.” Daphne mouthed to her, horror forming a tight o of her mouth. 

She ran. 

Hands were everywhere on her, trying to grab her back. Clinging to her shirt and the hem of her skirt. Tears pricked her eyes as she used her nails to claw them off and push through the crowd. 

She could hear Harry and Daphne and the professors wrangling them. A quick glance back saw Blaise clutching at the table in front of him, keeping him anchored to the table. Away from her. 

She pushed on. Her legs pumped and her thighs rubbed from the exertion of the run. Her lungs burned and her breasts bounced uncomfortably, pulling her back muscles forward. 

Her knees buckled and grasped for the nearest wall, pushing her body against it. Her thighs trembled from keeping her upright and she slid down until the backs of her thighs touched the floor. 

Alpha.. Alpha, please. Please help me. Wherever you are. Please. 

“Granger?” A cautious voice called from the end of the hall. 

She gasped, which was just an octave higher from the pants she was emitting moments before. 

She must have looked awful. Bags under her eyes, red rimmed, hair knotted and matte, cheeks flushed and sweaty from the run. But he was here. He had found her. 

“Draco.” She whispered and her hand longed to reach for him. 

He didn’t look much better than she did. His hair was messed. His cheeks were sunken in and almost grey with lack of color. 

But, God, he was beautiful. And he was here. He had found her. 

He breathed out through his nose. “You don’t… You don’t get to call me that. Not anymore.”

Her heart pulsed into the bottom of her stomach. He wasn’t her Draco anymore. So who was he?

He started to walk away.

“Malfoy,” She started slowly, “My… My scent.”

He nodded. “I know. It’s how I…” He trailed off and a pink stained the grey of his cheeks. 

It’s how I found you. 

Her heart beat its way back into her chest. He did come to find her. It was there, Draco was still there. Under all the hurt she buried him with. 

“Please. Please, Dra-Malfoy. They’re--” 

A sharp bang caused her to tuck her knees into her chest and whimper. In a second, he was there, pushing his body against hers. Shielding her. Protecting her. Her Draco. Her alpha. 

Peeves shot from one end of the hall to the next, throwing down exploding snaps in his wake. 

Draco’s shoulders released on a shaking breath. His chest was pressed against the forearms wrapped around her legs and she could feel it thrumming wildly. 

He had thought they were coming too. He was protecting her. Her Draco. Her alpha. 

His breath puffed against her cheek and they stared for a moment. She was afraid to break the silence, lest he move away from her. 

It was the first time seeing him in what felt like forever. But simultaneously felt like they never parted. His strong, calloused hands on her sides, his wispy hair that fell into his eyes, his minty scent. It was familiar. It was home. 

Without thinking she closed the distance between them, pressing her lips to his. Chapped and dry skin rubbed roughly over hers. She sucked his bottom lip and swiped her tongue across it, the moisture bringing life back into the skin. Fixing his lips. Fixing whatever had broken between them. 

He hadn’t kissed her back, so she reluctantly pulled her lips back from his. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, to face her humiliation, “Please,” she whispered into the darkness behind her eyelids. 

Please be my Draco again. Please protect me. 

The breaths in between her kiss and this silence were unbearable. She felt like she wanted to run away, but he didn’t move. His chest still lay against her forearms and she could feel his heart racing against them. He smashed his lips to hers, initiating his own kiss. She hadn’t expected it, it wasn’t gentle and tender like she was used to with him, it was demanding and punishing. She let him gnash his teeth against hers, bruising and nipping at her lips. 

She kissed him back just as hard, trying desperately to communicate to him through the kiss what she couldn’t say. 

I’m sorry. 

I’m sorry.

Take what you need from me. 

He placed both of his hands on her knees, shoving them apart, exposing her to him while he kissed her. He shoved her panties to the side and shoved his fingers inside, circling the tight bud nestled in her folds. She flinched back from his kiss and moaned at the sudden intrusion, letting her eyes flutter closed.

 “No,” his voice was gravelly and rough as he used a fingernail to flick against her clit. She yelped at his assault and her eyes flew open, seeing his expression had hardened even further. 

“You wanted this, right?” Something in him wasn’t the same as before, but she couldn’t help but nod at him, pushing her hips forward to grind against his now still finger.

He pulled it away, and she couldn’t help the desperate whine that escaped her lips at the loss. 

“Face to face, yeah?” he said as he leaned back from her, fumbling with his belt with his shaking hands, “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” he spat. 

She reached out to help and he smacked them away. “Don’t.” 

She sat still, scared that any movement might scare him away. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and bit down, the pain in her muscles from running threatening to take over her emotions if not for the burning arousal between her legs. Her thighs began to tremble as she watched him push his trousers down his thighs, taking his boxers with them. 

At the sight of him her pussy clenched, and she felt entirely empty as her breath caught in her throat. She had just realised how much she had missed him, how much she missed this. She desperately reached towards him, trying to find some semblance of what they had before, but just before she grazed his cock he grabbed her wrist.

 “I said don’t.” He snapped, slamming her hand against the wall behind her as he slid his other hand around her back. He moved towards her and added pressure against her lower back, pulling her onto his lap. She gasped when she felt his cock nestled in her folds, applying still but steady pressure against her clit. 

The hand at her back slid down between them, and she had to hold onto his body with her already aching thighs, but it was worth it for him. She felt him rub the head of his cock through her moisture, stroking almost too hard against her clit until she felt him line up with her entrance.

Without warning he lunged his hips up, forcing his cock inside of her. Hermione yelped in surprise and squeezed his hand that held hers tight to the wall, as she tried to breathe through the slight sting of him stretching her. 

“Look at me,” his voice was dark and tortured, like she wasn’t speaking to Draco anymore. 

She nervously met his eyes, scared to see what he really thought of her reflected in them. She saw a ring of silver encasing the black abyss of his blown pupils. 

“You wanted to look at me while I fucked you?” he said through parted flushed lips. 

He shot his hips up, delivering a hard blow to the soft flesh of her cervix. She cried out, unsure if she was experiencing pain, pleasure or both and forced her hips down to meet his. 

His thrusts were slow and almost unbearably hard, when she tried to speed him up by grinding against him faster, he merely slowed almost to a stop, but grabbed her ass to pull her even harder against each one. 

 “Yes! Yes!” she chanted every time he slammed against the soft flesh inside of her, throwing her head down between them and clenching his hand so hard she was sure she would leave a mark on him. She didn’t care, she wanted him to bear the evidence he was here with her. 

She stared down at his shoulder, whimpering at his every thrust. Suddenly his fingers found her bud, circling around it at a punishingly faster pace than his thrusts. She threw her head back and let her eyes roll back into her skull as her rhythmic moans turned to one long desperate groan. 

The hand holding her wrist released it’s grip and snapped to her chin, pulling her head down to face him, “Look at me,” He sneered. She lazily opened her eyes and met the black abyss in his, “You’ll look at me and remember who makes you fucking feel like this.” She grabbed onto his shoulders, looking for any kind of grip she could get on him while she felt the pressure building inside of her. She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him how close she was but something in the grip he held on her chin told her to be silent. 

“Is he going to do this to you?” his mouth opened in a snarl, revealing the sharp points of his teeth growing inside his mouth. The smell of him was overwhelming in the air, as if he was warning a non-existent alpha from his prey, “Is he going to make you come like this?” he growled, speeding up his thrusts and throwing her back into the wall behind her. 

“Only I can do this to you. Draco fucking Malfoy.”

The pain in her thighs was almost unbearable as she clung even tighter to him, desperately chasing the tight pressure building inside her, electrifying her with each of his thrusts. She wanted to warn him, tell him how he was making her feel, but all she could manage was a silent shout. 

She tried to close her eyes, the pressure too much to hold, but he shook her chin, “Look at me, Granger,” he growled, his alpha voice aggressively shock waving through her body, “Look at who’s making you come.”

The pressure burst, escaping with the breath of her shout. Her hands clutched at the lapels of his shirt, trying to find any kind of grounding as she continued to grind her hips again, chasing every drop of pleasure she could wrangle from him, like an addict. 

His own body convulsed around her, and she watched mesmerised as he sunk his teeth into his lip. She wondered if he was fighting the battle again, the one to stop him biting into her gland. She hoped he was trying to stop himself from saying her name. He pumped his hips into her, sharp thrusts as he emptied himself inside of her. 

When he stilled the only thing she could manage was to breath, she was scared to move, scared to make a sound left he leave her. So they sat gazing at each other panting. 

For a moment they sat panting, gazing at each other. He untucked his lip from his teeth and a small drop of red pooled at the mark left by his sharp teeth. Tentatively she tilted her body towards him. He sat completely still as she moved into his space. She sat still when she reached his mouth, taking a moment just to feel his breath against her lips. She whispered her tongue across his mouth, catching the red bead and smearing it off his skin. 

He stiffened at her touch, and pushed her back against the wall, awakened from his trance. When he looked back up at him, his eyes were silver as he scurried away from her, hissing when his softened cock slid out of her heat to meet the cool air. 

He stood and refused to look at her when he pulled his trousers up around him, tucking his shirt into them. Hermione suddenly felt very exposed, watching the man so coldly pull away from her. She crossed her legs, hiding the evidence of their conjoined arousal.

 “That… That should last you until your next heat,” he said, voice gruff with the force of his orgasm, as he straightened his tie, refusing to grace her with silver eyes. 

He turned his back to her and began to walk away. She watched his back move farther into the distance, away from her. Her alpha getting farther and farther away from her. 

“Will… Will you be there with me?” She called out to him, moving onto her knees on the cold stone floor. 

His back stiffened and he stopped for a moment staring ahead of him , refusing to turn back to her, “Why don’t you ask your alpha?” 

As she tried to decipher the cold bitterness in his voice he strode off faster, disappearing around the corner, leaving her alone, satisfied but broken. 

Her vision blurred with tears, but she closed her eyes tight and picked herself up off the floor. She took her time walking back to her dorm, uncaring that their mixed fluids were running down her inner thigh. When she laid in bed that night, she clenched her legs to keep what was left of it inside her. The last of him. Even just as a reminder that it had even happened. 

She didn’t sleep much that night. Terrified at the thought of facing her heat alone, so much worse this time because she knew who she was calling for in her weakness. Like a wounded animal she would cry and call for him, and for the first time he wouldn’t be there to help her. 

When she finally gave in to her exhaustion, she dreamt of a life in America. A life without him. She woke up with wet cheeks. 

Chapter Text

“Did you and Draco make up?”

Daphne’s voice was so eager, Hermione flinched as she piled eggs onto her plate. Of course she could smell him on her.

“No, he…” She swallowed, pushing the knot down her throat. “He found he after the hall incident yesterday. He just… It was just to help. That’s all.”

Daphne’s face fell, pursing her lips into a thin, sympathetic smile. Daphne reached across the table to squeeze her hand reassuringly. 

“Don’t worry, Hermione. He’ll come around. He wouldn’t leave you alone for your heat.”

But that was days ago. 

She barely caught glimpses of him throughout the rest of the week. She had begged Daphne to relay information about him. In turn, Daphne had to beg Blaise to relay the information. 

“Well?” The question was breathless and hopeful. 

Daphne bit her lip and slung her bag over the backing of the library chair. “Blaise said he’s not mad anymore…”

There was a but, there always was. It was never a simple, uncomplex answer. 

“He’s… Blaise said he’s sad.”

She could take angry. Yes. Angry that she lied, angry that she spoke with another man about mating. Angry that she practically assaulted him to be marked. But sad? No. She couldn’t bear it. 

She remembered when her Gran on her father’s side died, he was so devastated her dad curled himself up in his bed and refused to come out for three days. She remembered most the way her mother cried.

“Mama, why are you crying?” 

Mrs. Granger ran a hand of fingers through her daughter’s thick curls before getting them snagged on a knot. “Your daddy’s daddy died, baby.” 

“Yeah but he’s not your daddy.” 

She gave her young daughter a small smile, scooping her up into her lap. “I know, but your daddy is sad. Which means that I’m sad.”

Hermione pursed her lips. “Why?”

“Because I love him. When you love someone like I love your daddy, you want to take the pain away. And you get sad when you can’t.”

For the millionth time, she wished her mother was with her. 

She just wanted to ask, how did you finally get dad out of bed? What did you say, what did you do that finally took away the pain? 

Her chest and throat burned from swallowing sobs. The tears flowed freely, wetting the blanket tucked under her chin, but she allowed no sound to slip from her mouth. Overall sound is comprised of direct sound and reverberated sounds. In rooms like this, with stone walls and only one window, sounds reverberate louder. 

If Draco was here, the sound would be absorbed due to reduced reverberation. If she cried out, the sound would bounce back from the wall and hit her. She’d be reminded he wasn’t there to soak up the sound. 

“Missy!” 

She never called for the house elf, it was always Draco. Draco who knew her telltale signs of biting her thumb when she was hungry and obsessively licking between her lips when she was thirsty. Draco who knew she would never call a house elf herself. Draco did it for her. Draco, Draco, Draco. 

When you repeat a word it almost starts to sound fake. But it wasn’t fake. It was a real name. A real man who was somewhere in this castle. Hermione wondered what he was doing now. Was he nervous? Her heat would start in only a few hours. Was he bouncing his knee and glancing at the small hand of the clock like he always did? 

Or was he in the library? At their table, researching ingredients to perfect his solid potions. Was he running his thumb over the spine of the book until it laid flat? 

“Yes, Miss!” The loud pop echoed in the chamber and Hermione jumped as the sound reverberated and soaked into her skin. 

“Missy, would you mind terribly bringing me some ice chips and… and enough biscuits and water to last me the next few days?”

“Yes, Miss, of course. Of course. My pleasure. Enough for the both of yous?”

Hermione cringed, “No, Missy. Just me.”

Missy’s eyes widened but thankfully thought better of it and popped away, returning mere moments later with a tub of ice, protected by an extended cooling charm, and a jug of water. Overhead, Missy levitated a basket of dry biscuits and, bless her heart, a small pot of jam. 

“Will that be all, Miss?”

“Yes, Missy. Thank you.”

And then she was gone. A pop that echoed and bounced off the acoustics of the room and created tight soundwaves. 

-----

There are a few ways to tell time without a clock. 

Plant your feet towards the sun and extend one arm in front of you, rotating your wrist so your palm faces you horizontally. Close your fingers and align your pinky with the horizon. Count how many fingers it takes to reach the sun. Four fingers represents one hour of sunlight.

In Scotland at the end of February into early March, there are about 10 hours and 38 minutes of sunlight. If you divide the sky into segments of 11, it will represent the approximate time from East to West. 

Your shadow is shortest at noon and longest in the morning and late evening. 

It was 7:37 am, precisely. Because she did have a clock. But she checked anyway. Checked the sky, checked her shadow, how long ago did I wake up?

When she got her period the days were the same, but the time fluctuate based on her habits. She was stressed? Her period would come early in the morning, ruining her sheets. She ate a midnight snack? Her period didn’t start until at least mid-afternoon. She found her heats were no different. 

She was stressed? The heat came in the morning, ruining her sheets. Only this time, instead of blood, it was slick. Slick and sweat. 

What was that quote? Beyond the canopy of my embrace, you shall feel the blistering heat of the desert.

In the last stages of hypothermia, after the intense shivering and the drop of blood pressure, you become hot. Sweltering. Victims start to do something called paradoxical undressing, where they tear off all of their clothes and consequently increasing heat loss and accelerating death. 

So, was she too hot? Or was she actually too cold?

There is, however, one instance during hypothermia where taking off your clothes will be advantageous. When you have a partner. During hypothermia, experts suggest rewarming by being naked or barely dressed and transferring body heat. 

But there was no partner. She would have to fight through the heat. Or the cold. Alone. 

The fiery orb in the sky that helped her tell time, that shouldn’t have been able to pierce through the walls of the castle, felt like it was in the room with her. Not just in the room, no. Inside of her. Melting her organs into thick lava and oozing out in the form of sweat. 

Fuck, wasn’t sweat supposed to cool you down?

The ice wasn’t much help either. It felt as though it melted almost as soon as it touched her skin and was absorbed by the beads of sweat. 

She was pulsing, her whole body was. There were nerves in her body that vibrated violently and her muscles clenched and unclenched violently. 

Her hair, now damp with sweat, clung to the swollen gland on her neck and as her hand grazed it to remove the curls, she cried out. Even the deep wound made by Draco’s fangs, which by now were scabbed and healing, felt like it would break up to release the magma inside her. 

Was her first heat like this? Or was it worse now because her body knew her alpha?

Alpha, alpha, alpha. 

Uncapitalized because it wasn’t an Alpha named Draco, it was Draco who happened to be an alpha. It wasn’t who he was. He was smart and funny and gentle and determined and she was hers before he was an alpha. 

Where was he? Where was he? 

Was he nervous? He must have known her heat had started. Was he bouncing his knee and glancing at the small hand of the clock like he always did? 

Was he in the library? At their table, researching ingredients to perfect his solid potions. Was he running his thumb over the spine of the book until it laid flat? 

He had to be here. He should be here. 

On trembling legs, she pushed herself off of the bed, now completely soaked with slick and sweat and melted ice. 

He had to be here. He should be here. 

She grabbed her wand from the dresser and held it firmly in her hand. 

He had to be here. He should be here.

Would the room even let her out during her heat?

He had to be here. He should be here. 

“It’s over.”

He had to be here. He should be here.

The door cracked open and her bare feet pounded against the raised stone. 

He had to be here.

Chapter Text

Facts are why he loved her. 

In a world after the war, facts were not as appreciated as they had once been. When the chamber was open in 1992, Hogwarts: a History had a two week wait list. People turned to facts to comfort themselves. 

Hermione once told him that as a child, before a flight to Rome, she checked out every book she could on areoplanes. 

“I felt safer knowing it was more dangerous to be in a car-- I told you about them, Draco, keep up-- than in a plane. I don’t know. Also, did you know your tastebuds change whilst you’re in the air?”

It didn’t make sense to him at first. Why would you purposely search for information pertaining to a fiery, untimely death?

“Hundreds of people are injured or even die from riding their brooms, Draco.”

He didn’t fly for weeks after. Facts were scary. In a time where people waited two weeks to make themselves feel safer, Draco avoided facts. What if it said something he wasn’t ready to know? 

She changed that about him. One of the many things she changed about him. 

During the war, Draco would read books about lives he would never live. Romance, adventure, action. Heroes and villains and damsels. He could put himself into those stories. He could be the hero. 

With Hermione, there was no reason to escape anymore. It wasn’t the novel romance of Daphne and Harry. It was real. It was factual. 

And now, facts comforted him too. 

Fact: the Hogwarts library is located just off a corridor on the first floor.

Fact: chocolate is forbidden in said library.

Fact: there are 120,957 accessible books, not including the restricted section. 

Draco shoved another spine into the empty slot of a shelf. 

Fact, he thought, not a one of these are about fucking omegas. 

He knew she would probably be in heat soon, if not now. It kept him awake until the break of dawn before he finally slipped out of the Slytherin dorms and up to the library. 

Madam Pince opened the library before the house elves even rose for breakfast. Sometimes they would meet and exchange a sweet kiss and return of their books before making their way to breakfast, only to return later that night to exchange kisses that were more tender, not quite influenced by the dull sleepiness of the morning, and check out a new book. Only to return the next morning. 

But she wasn’t here, she was there. And was he selfish for that?
He ran a hand through his hair. Probably. 

Book 123 was, finally, successful. A small journal from an omega depicting her life without an alpha. 

I would sooner die than lay with an Alpha who sees me not as a woman, but as an Omega. 

He flinched as he read her description of trying to extract her own scent glands. Licking a thumb, he turned each page until he found what he was looking for: a heat alone. 

Of course he knew Hermione had gone through one alone already, her first one. But that was months ago. Would she be okay this time? 

He needed the facts. He needed them for comfort, like Hermione did for her flight to Rome. He needed them to make sure she’d be okay without him. And that was selfish. 

When I arose from my haze, deep gashed marked my neck from where I tore at my glands. Note to self: trim nails before the next. 

Did Hermione have long nails? He thought of them pressed into his shoulder. Deep crescents, but not enough to break skin. Perhaps he could brew ditany and have Blaise deliver it to her. 

Or perhaps he could go there now. It wasn’t too late.

No, the wards wouldn’t let him in after she’d been tucked away. 

Fact, he sighed and rubbed his face, I’m an awful, spiteful person. 

It couldn’t have been much past 7 in the morning, based on where the sun rose in its quadrant. Hermione taught him that trick when his signet watch broke and her Reparo did nothing more than wind the gears tighter. There was not a soul out of bed yet, save for he and Pince. 

Perhaps he was going crazy, because he could smell her. 

Tart cherries that tingle the tip of the tongue before rolling back into the throat. A bitter almond undernote. Sometimes perfume companies will use benzaldehyde to create a cherry scent. All it reminded him of were old books and tucking curls behind ears. 

The smell grew stronger and stronger, generating saliva that made him lick his lips and his adam's apple bob as he swallowed. 

It made his toes curl and his hands grip the desk in front of him until his knuckles were white. 

He was going crazy, he must be. He must be. 

But the smell was getting overwhelming, like a mason jar of maraschinos dumped over his head. Sticky and sweet and tart and he was breathing through his mouth now.  

Brown eyes and honey curls tucked behind ears. 

There she was.

Wild and trembling and puckered nipples and bare feet and-

“What the fuck-- Hermione?” 

He head whipped to the side and her eyes locked, but unfocused, onto his. A slow whimper left her lips that curled through the air.  

The journal lay forgotten as he stumbled to her side. When his hands met the flesh of her upper arm, he felt the raised skin and a deep moan split her lips and fluttered her eyelashes. 

“Please,” she whispered. It was desperate in a way that was less heady and more painful. His heart dropped, he had done that. 

An echo of Madam Pince dropping a book onto a desk made him acutely aware of where they were. In what position. 

His hands slid down to grip her wrists and she whimpered again, a sound that shot straight to his cock. 

“We have to get you back,” he said, searching her eyes for some semblance of clarity. He found none. “Can you walk?”

Her lips were moving with no sound, her eyelashes still fluttering from the feel of his hands on her. 

“Okay.” He sighed. 

Hermione grunted as she was suddenly lifted into his arm, her legs swung over the dip of his elbow. 

It had to be nearly 8 am by now, students would be starting to rise. Alphas would be awake. He needed to get her back to the wards. 

Each stride made her breast bounce and rubbed her sensitive nipples against the thin fabric of her night shirt. Heat was pooling under her skin and Draco could feel a wet spot forming where her cunt was pressed tightly against his forearm. 

She was rubbing herself against him, trying to create more friction. Something. Anything. The burning. 

“Stay still, Hermione.”

“No,” she cried, rubbing herself further onto him. “Please, please...now.. I need...”

He swore under his breath, her scent was like a cloud of smoke burning through him. But under it, he could smell others. Pine and sandalwood and lavender and shea butter. Hundreds of people. Tons of alphas. 

Her rubbing was slowing him down and he had only moments before others would be roaming the castle. 

With another swear, he adjusted her in his arms, swinging her legs to form around his hips. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck to hold herself up and he felt her lips part in a gasp as his hand dove into the elastic of her shorts to plunge into her slick center. 

He was thankful that his neck caused some barrier of sound as Hermione screamed and moaned and gasped with each turning of his wrist and curve of his finger.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he murmured into her ear, “almost there. Almost. You’re being so good. My good omega.” 

He grunted when he felt her lips pull at the sensitive skin of his earlobe. 

With the wards down, Draco easily entered their corridor and deposited her onto the bed. He watched mesmerized as she wailed at the loss of his hand and quickly inserted her own, a hand stretching the fabric of her shorts as her fingers pistoned into her core.  

He grabbed his wand with trembling fingers, rewarded the room, then lunged forward; grabbing her hand in his and yanking it from where it was buried in her warmth. 

 “Why--” she gasped, but then moaned as Draco sucked her finger between his lips. “Please.. Draco...the heat.”

“I know, sweet girl, I know. I’ll take care of you. I’m here now. I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

Draco fumbled with the button of slacks while simultaneously shimmying Hermione out of her own pants. He was hard already, painfully so, both from their antics through the hallways and the strong taste of her still lingering on his tongue. 

He surged forward to bury himself in her, eliciting a stuttered moan from them both. It had only been just over a week since their last encounter, but this was different.

This was right. This felt like a fact. 

Draco ducked his head to roll a nipple through her shirt with his teeth as he pumped slowly into her, dragging his cock from the hilt all the way back until just the tip was nestled in her. Again and again and again until her hips were bucking up to meet him in desperation. 

His pace never faltered. 

I’m sorry, he hoped it told her, I’m sorry for leaving you. For hurting you. For pushing you towards him. 

I’m sorry.

Her head lulled just as her eyes fell into the back of her head, the muscles of her cunt pulsing and gripping him. 

I’m sorry.

He clenched his teeth until his jaw clicked. 

I wish I could keep you. 

His whole body tightened when finally, she shook and cried out from below him. His knot nestled deep within her, flooding her with thick streams of hot cum. 

Her body finally stopped convulsing and instead she ran a lazy hand up his back, tickling his nerve endings and causing him to twitch. He hissed as his knot slid deeper into her.

When he finally met her eyes, there was clarity. Clarity and hope and love. This is what it was supposed to be like. Face to face. Panting breath that heated the air between them. 

“Hey, you.” She whispered. 

He swallowed and tucked a curl behind her ear. "You could have been hurt."

"I know."

"Do you?"

She rolled her eyes, but the corners of her lips twitched upwards. "Yes."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here." Draco smoothed the flyaway hairs from her forehead.

"You are now." 

He nodded and looked away. "When... when is he..."

The smile fell from her face and suddenly, a spot on the ceiling behind his shoulders seemed much more important. "When this is over."

Draco knew she meant her heat, but the pit in his stomach said she meant them. 

Chapter Text

It was an unspoken agreement that they spoke nothing about the inevitability of the end. Of 

leaving their room for the last time. 

They ignored the clock on the wall and there the sun was in the sky and where their shadow was cast on the floor. 

They let the hours pass by naturally, with lingering kisses and soft caresses on the palm. 

When her bouts of heat would shake her limbs, he made love to her slowly. Deeply. And she let the tension of the heat build up unbearably because she knew they only had so many of these moments together. 

It was now Saturday and her heat had subsided in the morning, though they opted to stay together in their shared bed for the last time. For one more night. 

His knot was locked firmly in her as they faced each other on the bed, one lazy leg draped over his sharp, narrow hips. 

Draco’s lip twitched as he felt her nails graze a sensitive area of his back, making his knot pulse and Hermione hiss. 

His face dropped as his alpha reminded him that come tomorrow, there would be someone else in his position. Loving her, caring for her, protecting her, making love to her. 

He swallowed. 

At one time he thought of Hermione carrying his child. Her belly round and stretched tight enough where he would be able to see the little movements of his baby. Their baby. With blonde hair and wild curls and honey eyes. 

And now that picture had shifted. He thought of running into Hermione during a visit back to the UK to visit friends-- Would she come back to visit? His heart lurched.-- and spotting her in a bookstore with one hand over her tummy and another balancing the spine of a book. 

He thought of her with a white, healed scar on her neck in a perfect circle. 

He thought of a faceless man coming behind her to place his own hands over the bump-- the thing they had created. 

She would smile at him through those thick lashes and probably rant about whatever the book had said that she found fascinating. Like she did at their library table. 

The faceless man would nod his head politely, but would he be just as interested as her? Would he appreciate the way her eyes lit up and her hair sparked with curiosity?

As much as it hurt, and it did, Draco hoped he would. For Hermione. 

And Draco would have no choice but to turn away from the bookstore and try to forget about her all over again. 

“Stop thinking about it.” A small voice whispered to him and soft pads of three fingers stroked his cheek. 

“I’m just thinking how I’ll miss seeing you naked so often.”

She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Prat.”

They sat for a moment in silence. 

“I don’t want to go to sleep.” He heard himself confess. 

Hermione sucked on her cheek and tried to pull back the burning in her eyes. 

“I’m not ready to wake up and have you not be there.”

A single tear rolled down her cheek and she quickly licked it away when it fell into the seam of her mouth. “Do you want me to wait for you?”

Yes, he wanted to say, don’t leave without saying goodbye.

“I… you should do whatever is easier for you.”

Their eyes felt heavy as they laid in the silence of the room. 

Don’t fall asleep, he told himself, let me look at her just a bit longer. 

But sleep overcame him. Dreamless, but restless sleep. 

And when he awoke, the covers next to him were bare and cold. 

Apparently Draco Malfoy did cry. At one point, he could count on one hand every single time he shed a tear after his toddler age, when Lucius distilled in him that men don’t cry. One, when his mother lost his sister. Two, when he was given the mark. Three, after he watched Hermione tortured in his home.  Four, when she had forgiven him for it all. Five, when she had broken his heart. 

And now he had to go to his other hand.

The sixth time he cried, when he couldn’t keep her.

-------

She was early. The sun had barely struck 10 ‘clock in the morning and she had to convince the bar keeper to open the tap of butterbeer early. 

She was on her third. 

Maybe he would leave if he found out she was a drunken slob. 

He was due at 11, but she willed herself to wake up before dawn and spare precious last minutes to watch Draco snore quietly next to her. 

When the light peeked through the sheer curtains, she gathered her things and gathered her hair in order to give him a lingering kiss on his temple. A tear fell from her eyes and slid into the soft white hairs on his head. 

He groaned in his sleep and with a watery smile, Hermione watched him reach an arm out to find her. Even in his sleep. 

The library was quiet and barren at this time of day, even Madam Pince was cradling a cup of coffee silently and barely glanced up to see who entered so early. 

Their library table. 

They fell in love here. Besides their corridor, it was the one thing that was theirs. And she knew there was nothing anyone could do to take it away from them. 

With shaking hands, she pressed two fingers to her lips and let them trail over the dark wood of the surface. 

“Goodbye, Draco,” she whispered. “I love you. I love you.”

She downed the rest of her beer in record time and with a concerned grimace, the waiter replenished her glass. 

10:45.

Would he come early? Her heart was in her throat. 

What if he wanted to leave for America right away?

McGonagall already permitted her to finish classes through letters and take her N.E.W.Ts remotely. 

But what if she didn’t get to say goodbye to Harry or Ron or Daphne or even get the 5 galleons from Blaise he owed for a bet?

Her knees bounced under the table. 

Or worse, what if he was late and he was the type to never show up on time and now her life was as a constant schedule keeper?

Draco was never, ever late. 

10:55 and the bell above the door chimed.

Early, early, early, but not too early. 

She had to pry her eyes from the foamy layer of her beer and she met a pair of brilliant green eyes and blonde hair.

She blinked.

He blinked. 

She blinked. 

She blinked. 

He blinked. 

“What the fuck?” Her voice trembled and her heart felt like it was beating through her tongue. 

Two chairs scraped in front of her. 

“I know you’re probably…” She glanced at her partner for support. 

“Shocked,” He offered. 

“Yes, shocked. But, we only had the best intentions.”

She learned a lot about him through his letters. 

Hermione swallowed. 

Delphinus 

Daphne.

Harrison.

Harry.

He had a younger sister.
Daphne.

His parents had died when he was younger and they lived with non-magical relatives who disapproved of magical use. 

Harry.

When he arrived at Ilvermorny, he was sorted into Wampus, which he described as a mix between what she would know as Gryffindors and Slytherins.

She quickly glanced between them both. She parted her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. 

“Okay, this is going well,” Harry offered. 

The sound of a swift kick to the shins sounded in the tiny pub, along with his muffled groan. 

“What he means to say is… is we were expecting more..”

“Hexing?” Harry offered again. 

“Yes, hexing.” 

Hermione shook her pounding head, the blood rushing through her ears and whistling.

“Why? H-how?”

“At first we just wanted to distract you, really,” Daphne bit her lip, “it was my idea so don’t be upset with Harry. I thought if we gave you the best offer, it would hold you for a while until… well, until you and Draco.”

“But then,” Hermione’s eyes shifted to Harry, “you asked us to send the money to a charity and we panicked because we thought it meant you were also corresponding with others… other suitors.”

“And then when we got back you and Draco were so in love, we thought it was inevitable for you to get together. I just thought you needed a little push, so--”
“So you told me to make him rut.”

Daphne pulled at a long strand of hair. “Yes and I realize it was stupid--”

“Why didn’t you tell me after?” She whispered.

“That was my suggestion,” Harry offered, taking the pressure off his girlfriend. “I was worried you’d impulsively write to another alpha and well…” he trailed off. 

“Did you-did you actually donate all that money?”

The couple shared a look. “Well, of course.”

“So… so you put out 35,000 galleons for-for what? How?”

“It’s nothing we couldn’t afford, really,” Daphne soothed. “I may not be as rich as the Malfoy’s but the Greengrass' do well.”

“And obviously I’ve gotten many reparations after the war and all-- I figured what better way to use it than donating it to something that means so much to us?”

“Even Blaise chipped in, so it wasn’t just us two. He said he owed you some money for a bet and forwarded a few allowance cheques from his mother to us. So…” Daphne swallowed visibly. “Surprise?”

Hermione stood on wobbling knees and moved slowly to the other side of the table where the two idiots wouldn’t even look her in the eye. 

Those two awful, stupid, amazing idiots. 

And he launched herself at them, wrapped her arms tightly around their necks and knocked their shoulders together with her head wedged between theirs. 

“I don’t know… I don’t know what to say. I-I’m so angry,” she sobbed. “How do I ever repay you?”

Harry was the first to hug back, rubbing soothing circles on her shoulder. “Well, of course we expect the position of godparents and the naming of your first child after us.”

“Harry is an awful name,” Daphne’s shaking voice joked, “But we’ll think of something.”

Hermione pulled back to look at them and her eyes widened. 

“Draco! Draco, I have to- I have to--”

“Go, go,” Daphne urged her. “We’ll pay your tab. Merlin knows we’ve no qualms about spending money on you.”

But she was already gone, flinging open the door and stumbling her way back to Hogwarts. 

She checked the quidditch pitch, checked the library, checked the Great Hall, checked the kitchens.

By the time she made it to the corridor- their corridor- she was puffing and out of breath and when Draco was alerted to an intruder, he was probably more frightened by the sight of her wild, sweaty curls and flushed face than by an actual stranger. 

She watched his eyes flick down to her neck and his face loosen in tension, then curl into confusion. 

She sobbed a laugh and launched herself at him, peppering kisses across his face and down his tear stained cheeks. 

“Hey, you” she whispered between kisses and was jerked backwards by his hands.

His eyes searched hers. Hopeful, relieved, scared.

“Can I keep you now?” his voice cracked.

And this time, when she said yes, she knew it was forever. 

“You’re going to get us expelled.” Her words were harsh, but her tone was light and forced behind a giggle. 

He peeked his head up from under the table and gave her a playful glare. “Only if we get caught,” she couldn’t see his mouth but could tell from the crinkle in his left eye that he was smirking, “and we will if someone doesn’t shut her big, smart mouth.”

Hermione snorted. “You like my smart mouth.”

Draco raised one eyebrow at the suggestive comment, causing her to duck her head and flush furiously at the table below and use her hair as a thick curtain to hide away from his knowing stare. “Just finish before Pince comes.”

He was under the table again, the only sound around them was the scratching of wood. “I don’t know what part of that sentence was the filfiest.” 

Hermione barked a laugh and then quickly checked her surroundings for any sign of the librarian. “Are you almost done?”

A hand tickled the soft flesh just behind her knee and she yelped. 

“Come down and see.”

She softly scraped the chair back just enough where she could wiggle her way to meet him. 

When she was crouched in front of him, she couldn’t help but grin at his delighted expression. 

“Well?”

“Look up.”

Her eyes flickered to the splintered wood above them. Her nose crinkled at the sight of wadded and dried chewy wand sticks. 

Did no one hear of the garbage? 

Her eyes followed the natural lines of the wood until they met a freshly dug crevice.

DM+HG

Her heart stuttered in her chest and there were emotions that burned her nose and behind her eyes. 

But the only thing she could think to say was, “You defaced school property?”

His laugh was so loud it made her jump. 

“I wouldn’t be the first. Look,” he pointed to older, more faded lines that almost seemed to be naturally carved into the wood. 

MP+AW 

She glanced at him. “Molly Prewitt and Aurthur Weasley?”

He nodded. “And here.”

LE+JP

Hermione gasped and reached to touch it, before pulling her hand back. “Oh, Harry would love to see this.” 

“There’s more.”

And there was. 

Neville's parents, Luna’s parents, even Draco’s parents initials among at least a hundred other couple engravings. 

“I think this table is special,” he whispered. As if he was afraid she would laugh at him. “I think… I mean, all of these couples… and they all stayed together, yeah? I think… I think this is our table for a reason.” 

Her vision blurred and she swiped furiously at her eyes.

“Hermione, I lo--”

A throat cleared from behind them and the pair scrambled to come out from under the desk. Madam Pince’s lips, which were always pursed, were now a small, tight wrinkle. 

“Sorry, Madam, Granger here lost an earring. We were just trying to locate it, were’t we?”

“Y-yes, yes! My earring.”

The librarian quirked a brow as the pair but instead opted to say nothing and return to her post. 

When she glanced over, she saw Draco give her a slow wink. 

It was there. An almost “I love you”. But it was there. 

Me too, Draco, she wanted to say. 

Me, too.

Chapter Text

The stars have stories.

Scorpius, the scorpion that killed Orion; the mythical hunter.

Draco, the dragon that guarded the gardens of the Hesperides.

Leo, the Nemean Lion who was killed by Heracles during the first of his twelve labors. 

Lyra, the lyre of Orpheus who was killed by the Bacchantes. 

Delphinus has two stories. 

After Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades overthrew their father Cronus, they divided the sky, the sea, and the underworld between them. Poseidon inherited the sea and built himself an underwater palace. Though it was grand and beautiful, it was lonely. 

Set on finding himself a wife, he courted the virgin Amphitrite. She fled from his aggressive advances and in retaliation, Delphinus was sent by Poseidon to find her and bring her to him. Delphinus, with his charm and cleverness, returned Amphitrite to Poseidon.

Amphitrite lived the rest of her life as a wife to the most vengeful, ill-tempered Olympian God. She was stripped of her virginity and bore his children and in the end, Delphinus was given a place in the stars as thanks for his deliverance. 

In another tale, Delphinus saved the life of Arion, a poet and musician from the Island of Lesbos. On his way to Greece from Sicily, the sailors plotted to kill him and steal his small fortune he had taken with him on the ship. 

When the sailors surrounded him with their swords, Arion pleaded to be allowed one last song. His voice attracted a school of dolphins, who followed the ship closely. Arion lept overboard to escape and a lone dolphin carried him on its back all the way to Greece, where he delivered Arion safely. As thanks, the dolphin was placed among the constellations by Apollo as Delphinus. 

Delphinus, the constellation, is neither a hero nor a capturer. It is a cluster of stars visible, burning the most brightly in the late summer in the Northern Hemisphere. 

Delphinus Harrison, who started out as a capturer, became a hero. Two heros.
Delphinus Harrison Malfoy was the most difficult pregnancy in all of Greek, Roman, Chinese, Egyptian, or any fucking mythology. 

Hermione and Draco agreed to wait until after graduation to mate.

“I just want it to be special.” He had told her, while nipping gently against the swell of her neck. 

She had narrowed her eyes, “Are you saying it wouldn't be special now?”

“Brat,” he gave a particularly sharp bite to her shoulder which made her yelp, “I’m saying I plan to knot in you for at least a week and I prefer to do it when I know you won’t be thinking of our N.E.W.Ts.”

It was worth it. He made it worth it. Not that she expected him not to. But, that’s a story for another chapter. 

They bought a flat together just outside of Claremont Square, London, close to Harry and Daphne’s home at 12 Grimmauld Place. 

Draco was hired as a potions apprentice at a local apothecary, where he planned to pursue his dream of solidifying potions into pills. They all thought he was crazy. 

Draco rubbed a damp palm against his forehead and glanced up at the clock above his work station. Just past 7. 

He crossed off ‘slug root powder’ three times. Instead of turning the potion into a solid, it was now a translucent gel-like substance. 

He sighed. 

“Mr. Malfoy, your wife is sure to be worried about you.”

“Then you don’t know my wife,” Draco chuckled, “She’s almost surely at work herself.”

Hermione had accepted a position as a solicitor representing endangered magical animals. 

They loved their jobs, but not nearly as much as they loved each other. If Draco was home late from work, he would come through the floo to Hermione curled up on the couch in her work clothes waiting for him.

Similarly, when Hermione would wake in the morning to find Draco already gone, she’d find a plate of biscuits with jam laid out on the table with a cup of tea charmed to stay warm. 

The first month after their mating, Hermione didn’t get her heat. They had prepared for it. Both had taken off of work. Warded their apartment. Stocked up on liquids and nutritious foods. 

But, it never came. 

“Maybe after you mate, you don’t need the heat anymore?” Daphne offered as she flicked her wand to move the tomatoes into the stew. 

“I don’t know, Daph,” Hermione uncorked the bottle of wine. Well, two bottles since Blaise was sure to show up. “In all the journals I never read about heats just… stopping.”

They had their answer that night. 

Ron and Blaise were almost gouged of their eyes the second they stepped through the door. It was the first time they had all gotten together since graduation and as Ron moved to envelop Hermione in a hug, he was thrust backwards by Draco’s arm. 

“What the fuck, mate?” Ron snapped. 

Draco looked just as bewildered as everyone felt. “I… I don’t know. Sorry.”

Blaise stepped forward next and instead of his lips meeting Hermione’s cheek, his mouth was met with the ball of Draco’s fist. 

“Merlin!” Blaise’s voice was muffled by the hand clutching his mouth. 

“Draco!” Hermione scolded. “What has gotten into you?”

Daphne’s eyes snapped to hers with a wide grin forming. “Oh, Hermione, I think he’s gotten into you.”

Draco’s alpha had sensed his baby from the moment of conception. Daphne and Harry, because they were not alphas, had not been sensed as a threat and therefore, the pregnancy went undetected.

Hermione’s mother had never spoken about her pregnancy. Molly Weasley became a saving grace at 3 a.m

Not for Hermione. 

For Draco. 

“Yes, dear, it’s completely normal for her to be craving salty foods.”

“She has a babe pressed on her bladder. Of course she’s peeing more often.”

“Draco, if you’re going to talk to me about discharge; perhaps wait until after I’ve had my morning tea.”

He was the epitome of a Draco Malfoy baby. If Hermione didn’t keep a hand pressed against her tummy, he would kick and punch against her organs until she couldn’t breathe. 

He must have three chocolate cookies before bed.

And then he must throw them up an hour later. 

By the time Hermione had hit her due date, she had become a nightmare. She was sweating. She could barely roll over her stomach had gotten so big. Baby boy was draining her magic so much she could barely manage a cooling spell. 

And that’s where she was now. Laying in her bed, sheets stuck to the sweaty mountains of her body. 

“Hello, love--”

“Go away.”

“Hermione--”

“Fuck you.”

“I know--”

“You know?” She seethed. “You know nothing. You put this… this spawn in me--”

“Come now, Hermione, he’s just as much yours--”

“Oh, no. No, no. This is surely your baby. Only a Malfoy baby could be so… so… stubborn,” she wailed, throwing her hands to her eyes. “Why don’t he just come out? Why doesn’t he want to meet me?”

Draco snorted. “Well, you are calling him a spawn--”

Hermione unhooked her hands from her eyes to glare at him. “This isn’t funny, Malfoy.”

The bed dipped under her as Draco sat and he rubbed a soothing hand over the swell of her belly. Immediately, baby boy calmed down and nestled, thankfully, away from her bladder. 

“I don’t think it’s funny, Malfoy,” He smirked at her. “I was two weeks late when i was born--”

“Of bloody course you were,” Hermione huffed. 

He hummed and pressed his cheek against her bellybutton. “I’m going to miss you being pregnant.” 

Hermione folder her arms under her chest, her forearms nestled in the space where the bottoms of her breasts met her stomach. “Well you better enjoy these next two weeks, because we are never having another one.”

------

“I want another one.” Hermione whispered, watching the small hand curl around her pointer finger. 

Draco winced. “At least let my hand heal first. We don’t even know he’s mine, really.”

Delphinus Harrison Malfoy was born on May 15th, nearly, but not quite, two weeks late. Just like his father. Instead of blonde hair and grey eyes, Hermione was delighted by the thick brown curls and brown eyes that greeted her chest when he was pulled out. 

Draco had been floored. Not one Malfoy in centuries had been born without the signature blonde hair and grey eyes. Of course, not one Malfoy in centuries had claimed a half-blood omega. There were always firsts.

There were always second chances.

Hermione rolled her eyes and offered the baby into his waiting arms. “Oh, he’s yours. And while it was so funny the first time, I think you should spend some time with your son.”

For the first time, Draco looked weary. This thing. This little baby with his soft brown tufts of hair and long lashes and plump lips that puffed out small swipes of air. He didn’t deserve it. He was innocent and pure and good. 

“Draco,” Hermione gently pressed him, “It’s okay. You’re not going to hurt him.”

But what if I do? He wanted to ask. 

What if he grows up and hears stories of me and is ashamed of his father? What if I yell at him for crying or lose my temper when he’s bad or--

Suddenly, there was a small pressure on his arm. 

Hermione had shifted baby Delphinus to rest in Draco’s waiting arm and on instinct, Draco lifted his elbow to support his baby’s head. 

He had never done it before. He had never held a baby. But it was instinct. Instinct to protect his son’s soft spot.

He watched his baby softly move his fist around his face, trying to navigate the way to his waiting, open mouth. Though his hair and eyes were dark, his skin was a pink-tinted alabaster. Draco watched at his baby gave up on his fist’s pursuit and instead yawned, then nuzzled into the warm skin of Draco’s forearm. 

A two headed snake wound its way around the curve of his baby’s head. 

At one point, he could count on one hand every single time he shed a tear after his toddler age, when Lucius distilled in him that men don’t cry. One, when his mother lost his sister. Two, when he was given the mark. Three, after he watched Hermione tortured in his home.  Four, when she had forgiven him for it all. Five, when she had broken his heart. Six, when he couldn’t keep her. Seven, on his wedding day, when he finally could. 

And now, eight, when he was given a second chance at life. 

Perhaps it was time to stop counting.

Chapter Text

“You seem happy.” 

She smiled even wider at the breath that tickled behind her ear and the arms that circled around her waist. 

“I am.”

And she was.

Isn’t that something? Saying that you’re happy and actually meaning it? It might be one of the most satisfying feelings in the world. That, and orgasms. 

But what wasn’t there to be happy about? 

Graduation had been that morning, which was originally not something Hermione had been excited for. They were the first class to graduate after the war and it showed in numbers. 

The class Hermione remembered from their first train ride, from their boat trip across the lake, from the sorting ceremony had nearly halved. 

Many had died, many had been imprisoned, even more had declined to return. It was easy to ignore the absence in class, but another when everyone was sitting in rows accepting a diploma their friends would never have. 

But next to the lake, with McGonagall’s wand pressed to her throat announcing names; it seemed much bigger. 

Hannah Abbott 

Katie Bell

Susan Bones

Terry Boot

Rodger Davies

And with every name, there wasn’t a sadness for the names that weren’t there. Instead, an appreciation for the names that were. 

And after, when everyone had found their waiting families: Draco and Hermione had each other. 

“Are you all packed?”

Hermione smiled proudly. “I am. I left out a set of clothes, an extra pair of socks, and a book for tomorrow. Now all we need is to get all your things in order.”

He tilted his head to kiss down the side of her neck and over the plane of her shoulder, Hermione let her head lull to the side to give him more access. “Mind if we do it later? I have something for you.”

Hermione hummed deep in her throat. “You know if you don’t do it now, you’ll be rushing to do it in the morning.”

She yelped when she felt a hard pinch on her bottom. “It’s endearing how funny you think you are. But the surprise is more time sensitive than packing,” Draco turned her by the shoulders, letting his lashes flutter and his button lip jut out. “Come with me?”

Hermione chuckled, but still followed him to the door. “It’s endearing how charming you think you are.”

“I’m a Malfoy, darling. You’ll understand once you become one.”

The halls felt familiar, but Hermione felt almost as an outsider in them. It was as if graduating permanently ripped her attachment to the walls. For the first time, Hogwarts did not feel like home. The warm hand in hers leading her down the stairs did. 

Hermione was eager to start life outside of school. She had received an offer from the Ministry to work in The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, something she had only dreamed about since her days of knitting hats and scarves for the elves. 

She and Draco had found a comfortable flat. It was still quite grand for her taste, but it was more suitable for them than to live in the Manor or in a large, empty estate. It was theirs and she couldn’t wait to line the walls with books and photos.

The only thing not in line for them; their marking. 

He had been the one most cautious of sealing their bond prematurely. 

“I don’t want you to regret it,” he told Hermione. “There’s still time to change your mind about your alpha.”

But there was no rethinking. There was no regret. This, them, was inevitable. The marking was inevitable. 

Hermione had spent the last few weeks of school picturing their bond. Would it be the first night in their flat? On their mattress? Perhaps he wouldn't be able to control himself and take her against the wall or on their sofa. 

Even through her last few heats, Draco had made no indication of any urge to mark her (which, really, after so long Hermione had to spend on her stomach?). Daphne hypothesized that now that Hermione had verbally and emotionally accepted him as her mate, his physical instincts were less urgent. 

“Where are you taking me?” Hermione whispered, trying to keep in stride with Draco’s long steps. 

“Why are you whispering?” Draco chuckled, his voice reverberating in the hall. 

“It’s past curfew.” 

“Hermione, we’ve graduated. There is no curfew.”

She blinked, stumbling a bit when she realized. “Oh.”

“We’re here anyways.”

Even if the halls felt foreign, the doors to the library were still so familiar. Even in years to come, Hermione didn’t think she’d ever forget them. 

“Alohomora.’ She heard Draco whisper. 

“What are you doing?” she hissed, swiveling her head to catch any sound of incoming footsteps. 

She could see from the corner of her eyes when Draco rolled his, beckoning her into the now open doorway. “Come on, we don’t have much time.”

“Much time for what?”

The door shut behind them and Hermione heard him whisper another locking charm, as well as a repelling charm that would notify them if anyone was close by. 

“Trust me?” he whispered in her ear, his breath ticking the nerves on her neck. 

Hermione sucked in a breath and nodded, letting him guide her to the back. 

“Oh, wow…”

It was their table. She could tell by the intricate carvings in the wood from Draco digging his nails in while he watched her study for all those months. It was also the only table completely bathed in the full moonlight emitting from the large window between two rows of bookshelves. 

“I came here one night a few months ago to retrieve a potion’s book I forgot. It was a full moon then as well.”

“It’s beautiful,” she grinned up at him and reached up on her toes to place a soft kiss on the corner of his lips. “Thank you for showing me. This table… it’ll always be special to me.”

Draco tucked a curl behind her ear. “Afterwards, I started reading about the effects of the full moon of potions. If you brew something water based during it, it’s said to be the strongest batch possible. Which made me think about people as well.”

“What about people?” he was kissing down her neck, letting his teeth graze over the soft flesh. 

“Well, I thought if the full moon could affect potions and tides, why wouldn’t they affect people? We’re more than half made up of water, aren’t we?”

“Mhm.” she could barely keep her eyes open with his gentle caresses over her waist and under the curve of her breast. 

“Evidently, the moon does hold power over the human body. More specifically, sex.”

“Sex?” Hermione breathed the word as Draco’s thumbs ran over the thin material of her nightshirt over her nipples. 

He chuckled against her ear. “Yes, sex. They say it’s more fulfilling. That we feel more extroverted and connected to our partner.”

“Fascinating.” 

Hermione’s head lulled backwards, pressing herself more firmly against his body. Draco’s hand moved to the hem of her shirt, sliding his palm underneath to feel her bare stomach. Hermione moaned at the warmth and how it contrasted to the cold air that breezed over her arms. 

“I thought so too. See, when I mark you I want it to be special. Not during your heat where you could barely pay attention to what’s happening. Not some quick shag in our corridor before we leave tomorrow. Not on the floor of our unfurnished flat.”

Draco moved forward slowly, causing Hermione to follow backwards to match his steps. When she felt the corner of the wood press against her lower back, Draco lifted her by the hips to settle her on the edge. 

The moon shadowed over half of his face. His pale hair and eyelashes seemed to be glowing in the light. 

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered. Even small sounds reverberated off the shelving. 

He smirked. “I know.”

“You’re supposed to say thank you,” Hermione lifted her hand to gently thwack him on the chest. 

He caught it easily in his, turning the palm up to his face to place a gentle kiss in the center. “Thank you, I know.”

“Prat,” she laughed softly. 

Her laugh was cut short by a soft, but firm kiss. Their lips gliding together, their tongues peeking out to trace along the seams of each other's mouths. 

Hermione made a small noise of protest when she felt his hands on the hem of her shift, lifting it carefully over her shoulders and exposing her breasts to the moonlight. 

“I’m going to mark you here, Granger,” he whispered in her ear, “In the moonlight, on our table. When the tides and the potions and our connection is the strongest.”

Draco gently pushed her shoulders down until her back was flat against the top of the table. 

Her nipples were puckered and dusty from the cool air that the books on the wall did not insulate. 

He took the time to notice that the color became just a touch darker towards the middle than around the outline of her areola. He took the time to notice how the sag of her breast covered her ribcage, only to be exposed when she inhaled on an anticipating heave.

Draco hitched a knee up onto the table to slowly crawl his way over the witch lying beneath him. Hermione licked her lips and with shaking fingers, from the cold or the anticipation, moved to his dress shirt buttons. She flattened a hand against his exposed chest. She had become quite acquainted with his scars over the months. She could draw them blindly. Where they were, how thick they were, how healed. They glowed in the moonlight, each stretch of skin a white glimmer on his already pale chest. 

Draco slid his knee higher until it made contact with the soaked material of her underwear. She moaned, lifting her head to press fevered kisses onto his neck as she ground herself down onto his leg. Draco stayed completely still, letting his woman ride his leg and listened to the gasps and frustrated moans she made. 

“Please,” she whispered under him, “Please, I can’t wait anymore. I… I’ve been so good. So, so good.”

Draco nodded, smoothing a thumb over her brow to soothe her. “You have been. You’re such a good girl. My sweet girl.” 

“Forever,” Hermione promised, lifting her head to grasp his thumb between her lips in a tender kiss. 

Draco removed his thumb from her mouth and quickly hopped off of the table, hooking his thumbs in the band of her sleeping shorts and panties and sliding them down her thighs, past her knees, letting them drop to the floor. She was bare for him. Wild hair and full lips and rosy nipples and hooded eyes. Each curve of her body highlighted by the silver light projecting from the window. 

His hands shook as he undid the tie of his own pajama bottoms and carefully slid them down over his growing erection before they joined Hermione’s on the floor. Draco hissed as the cool air of the library blew over his heated cock like a gentle whisper, taking himself in his warm hand and pumping gently. 

“Please,” he heard her plead again. “You don’t have to hold back anymore. You don’t have to stop yourself. I’m ready.”

With a growl that was almost inhuman, Draco unhanded his cock and instead grasped onto her delicate ankle, tugging fiercely until her bottom was almost hanging off the table and her leg was hitched around his waist. 

He had been so patient. For months. Fucking into her cunt and knotting and keeping his teeth behind his lips. She was right, he didn’t have to do that anymore. He could finally lose control. 

“You have no idea what you’re asking for, sweet girl,” Draco purred, running his cock through the seam of her sopping pussy. 

Hermione’s eyes rolled back into her head, her back arched into the familiar feeling of him so close. “I do. I need it… I-I need… no more being gentle. No more. Please, alpha- Draco!”

She was babbling, barely coherent as she begged for his cock. With a grunt he sheathed himself in her, groaning low as her inner muscles parted for him. 

He could feel himself trembling. The months of careful caresses and soft touches building up and begging him to unleash all the need into the willing body beneath him. 

When Hermione wiggled her hips, sliding herself further onto his cock, his control snapped. He howled, throwing his head back as both hands found purchase on her soft hips. His thumbs pressing almost violently against her protruding bones before powerfully thrusting into her again. 

Her screams were so loud and high pitched it almost sounded like singing. Like an angel in pure ecstasy. Her tits bounced with each trust, Draco using his grip on her hips to pull her and impale her onto his cock. 

She was almost like a doll being dragged and used and played with, babbling incoherently, begging for release. Begging for him to fill her. Begging for him to bite her. 

He knew he was holding her too roughly. He knew her cunt would be sore and battered after he was done, but he couldn’t stop. He was so close, and from the sounds and clenching of her muscles, so was she. 

Draco could feel the fangs press into his bottom lip, elongating and sharpening in his mouth. While Hermione thrashed under him, he could see the swollen gland pulsing in her neck that begged to be claimed. When he bent down to lick a long, slow stripe over the swell she froze. Her body trembled and her pussy clenched almost painfully as she began the descent into her climax. 

Draco swore. Her inner muscles had constricted so viciously that he could barely pull himself out to keep the pace. His thrusts became stuttered and broken. He reached a hand up to sink into her hair, pulling her neck taunt to the side. 

“Now, Draco--” she sobbed under him as her climax finally took her and Draco latched his mouth onto the juncture of her neck, letting his fangs finally pierce the sack. 

Darkness. Then a blinding light. Almost as if the moon was just outside of the window. Draco’s knot swelled almost painfully as he spilled into her, his mouth still attached to her neck. 

He drew back, giving small licks to the wound and whispering reassuring words in her ear. The moon pulled them closer as his venom ran through her veins.

She was finally his. Really his. Forever. 

And they laid there, wrapped in the smell of cherry and mint.