Bonded

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/33391831.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Theodore Nott/Pansy Parkinson
Characters: Hermione Granger, Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Pansy
Parkinson, Lucius Malfoy, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ron
Weasley, Minerva McGonagall
Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Draco Malfoy,
Omega Hermione Granger, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Head Boy Draco
Malfoy, Head Girl Hermione Granger, Explicit Sexual Content,
Protective Draco Malfoy, Stubborn Hermione Granger, Shower Sex,
Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Minor Hermione Granger/Blaise
Zabini
Language: English
Collections: Books I finished reading, Need_to_read_dramione, Fav Dramione fics,
Dramione Favorites, Ice ❄, Dramioneotp, R, Fics I need to read ASAP,
LoveStoriesfortheLovers
Stats: Published: 2021-08-23 Completed: 2021-09-17 Words: 103,887
Chapters: 26/26
 Bonded
by Ahimadala

Summary

Draco Malfoy had always known that he was going to be an Alpha, like his father and his
father's father.
What he didn't know was that the day Hermione was tortured under his eyes, something
never seen before in the magical world happened: their magic created a bond.

Being an omega was a rare privilege among young purebloods girls. The gene was
disappearing even in the oldest and purest families.
So how was it possible for that trait to show up in a muggleborn girl?

Notes

English is not my first language, this is a translation. There will be many mistakes, every
correction or suggestion will be really appreciated ❤
Next chapter tomorrow!
 Chapter 1
Chapter Notes

Russian translation here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/11268395

The war was over. Harry Potter had won. From then on, life had strangely resumed with
relative normalcy, except for the nightmares that plagued the protagonists of both factions.

June 5, 1998

It was his 18th birthday. It had been over a month since the Battle of Hogwarts. Unlike the
other Death Eaters, the Malfoy's had had shameless luck. Narcissa had been totally
exonerated by the testimony of the hero of the wizarding world, Harry Potter. Lucius had
managed to escape Azkaban and remain under house arrest thanks to the actions of his wife
and a large donation of money to the ministry.
Draco had been saved by the testimony of someone he never expected: Hermione Granger.
Apparently, the gesture that still guaranteed him a place in the world had been refusing to
identify the three Gryffindors when they were captured and brought to the Manor.

"Draco bought us time," Hermione had declared on the day of his trial. "If it wasn't for him
we would never have been able to escape the Manor, it's also because of him that we won the
war."
He had been incredulous.

The girl's words rang in his ears for weeks. How could she want to help him after what had
happened to her?
She had been tortured in his own home. Under his eyes.
And he had done nothing.

The image of that day haunted him every time he closed his eyes. He was convinced that the
nightmares would pass, or diminish, once the war was over. But they hadn't.

His train of thought was interrupted when his mother knocked on the door of his room.

"Draco, honey, could you come downstairs? Your father wants to talk to you."

Without giving her an answer, he moved foot after foot and walked out of his room, heading
into the study where Lucius spent most of his time.
He didn't know what his father wanted to talk to him about and almost didn't care anymore.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the study the man smiled.

"Come in Draco," he told him, "and close the door."
Hesitantly, the young man took a few steps forward, doing as he was told. "You wanted to
talk to me?" he asked, skeptical.

Lucius walked over to a shelf above the large fireplace. He picked up a bottle and filled two
glasses of fire-whiskey, handing one to his son and motioning for him to take a seat in one of
the two armchairs in the large room. "Happy birthday son" he exclaimed, raising his glass.

"Thank you," replied the young man, responding to the toast and taking a large sip of the
drink. Was this all he had summoned him for? No, impossible. Lucius Malfoy always had a
second motive.

"You turn eighteen today." His father's tone sounded dangerously cheerful to the young man's
ears.
-I know- he would have liked to answer him, but he merely remained silent, continuing to sip
his drink while waiting for him to continue with what he had to say.

"I guess you know what that means for a young pureblood man."
Ah, there it was. He had said that.

Of course he knew, he knew it well. He had noticed the changes in his body.
He continued to remain silent, staring at the bottom of the now empty glass.

"A young Alpha at your age usually begins to manifest," the man squared him from head to
toe, "but you seem to have anticipated the process. Malfoy blood." Lucius' face was furrowed
with an expression of pride.

The young man could not restrain a grimace. Deep down, though he had no proof, he knew
that his manifestation had not begun months earlier because of the supposed purity of his
blood.
It had been the war. Perhaps the stress, or the pain, or the emotional load of everything he had
experienced.

He first noticed the change the day after Hermione was tortured in his house.
He spent the night sleepless. He vomited over and over again. Every muscle in his body
burned.
From there on it all happened in a matter of weeks: his tone of voice became deeper, he grew
several inches taller, his muscles thickened.
Now his father could fix him up with a young woman from a good family and force him to
produce heirs, and his body would gladly obey.
Maybe he'd even be able to find an omega, ensuring the next generation of Malfoys a decent
amount of heirs.

The prospect would thrill any alpha, but it made him queasy.
Perhaps something had gone wrong with his "transformation."

"You will return to Hogwarts and complete your studies."

Draco nearly choked. This was unexpected.

"To Hogwarts? No. I'm not going back there."
"You will. It will take some time to clear our family name. In the meantime you will
complete your education" Lucius didn't look his son in the eye as he spoke. "Plus, you are
welcome there" he said, leaning over to grab something from the coffee table: his letter to
Hogwarts, whose new principal, he discovered as he read, was Minerva Mcgonagall.

Impossible, how could she of all people readmit him?

"Apparently that mudblood's testimony has broken through to the old hag's heart," his father
concluded with a grin.

August 19, 1998

Hermione was awakened, at dawn as usual, by the recurring nightmare of that day at Malfoy
Manor. Her brain did not fail to add, night after night, different details, elaborating new and if
possible even more terrifying versions of the unpleasant event.

In this dream, after being tortured by Bellatrix and abandoned on the marble floor, Draco
approached her and began to heal her.

One way or another, as the days went by, her dreams increasingly ended with the image of
the young Slytherin. She remembered everything about him that day: as she was tortured her
mind couldn't help but cling to the one familiar thing in that room. Him.

Unarmed and totally submissive to Bellatrix, she felt her magic manifest in a way that was
totally different from what she had felt in the past. The only thing she could think about was
him, Draco. She wanted to be helped, to be saved.
Ever since that day at Malfoy Manor, perhaps due to the trauma of the many cruciatuses she
suffered, she always felt something strange inside, as if a part of her magic had left her in that
room.

She got out of bed and took a series of deep breaths, trying to push those thoughts away. The
war was over.

She looked out the window: it was a beautiful day. Today she was going to Diagon Alley to
buy the new books for her last year at Hogwarts. She was excited to be back. Harry and Ron
would not be with her; they would be starting their Auror course. Although she knew she
would miss them, part of her was excited by the idea that this year would be dedicated solely
to her studies.

Shopping that day would not be limited to just books however. With the stress of the war and
the constant running away finally over, she had obviously put on weight: her old uniform no
longer fit.
Her curves had increased considerably over the summer and she didn't mind. Without the
threat of a powerful Dark Lord always around the corner she could indulge in a little vanity
and levity.
That same day, another young wizard was headed to Diagon Alley to buy everything he
needed for the new year.

Although the idea of returning to Hogwarts had not initially excited him much, he was now
relieved at the prospect of being away from home and his father.

It was the first time in the entire history of his time at Hogwarts that he went to Diagon Alley
without his parents.
He felt a strange sense of freedom.

His first stop was the bookshop, where he would buy school texts and a few other books to
delve into his favorite subject, potions. Next he would visit Madam Malkins's to get a new
uniform.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the store he was recognized by most of the customers.
Several heads turned in his direction and he received numerous grim looks. However he
didn't care. The guilt he felt every night suggested he deserved far worse than that.

He walked through the shelves picking up the books one by one. Transfiguration, defense
against the dark arts, ancient runes, astronomy.
He was only missing the potions manuals, whose dedicated section was in a large bookcase
in the back of the shop.
When he turned the corner and reached the shelf he was interested in, he found the person he
least wanted to meet: Hermione Granger.

He felt terribly guilty and eternally indebted to her. Guilty for letting her be tortured under his
eyes without intervening, and in debt because she had testified on his behalf.

The young witch hadn't noticed his presence; she was lost among the books.
He noticed she was picking out the same volumes that interested him.
The last one on the list was a rather heavy tome placed on the top shelf. Although she could
have used magic to pick it up, she stood on her toes trying to reach it. It was an odd habit of
those who had grown up among Muggles.
His father would have found the gesture revolting, whereas to him it seemed extraordinarily
sweet.
Without realizing it, Draco found himself smiling at the scene. As soon as he recovered, he
was overwhelmed with the desire to help her, to please her.

He didn't know where that feeling came from, but suddenly he felt it rumbling in his chest.
He approached the shelf, and when he was next to her he reached out his arm, pulling down
two identical volumes. He handed her one, keeping the other for himself. Seeing her close up,
he realized there was something different about her.
Her face was always the same, her hair always the usual untidy and unruly mass. But there
was something else.

"Thank you," she replied, taking the book and adding it to the pile she held in her arms with
already little balance.
Her gaze continued to wander over the covers, but Draco couldn't take his eyes off her.
Something was different. He could feel it, but he couldn't figure out what it was.

Pretending to look for a specific volume, he continued to follow her around the shelves.
That's when he noticed it, observing the way her shirt lifted every time she tried to reach a
book placed high up: her body had changed. She was the same Hermione Granger as always,
but with some small differences.

Her breasts were larger, the curve of her hips much more pronounced, as was her bottom.
Could it be that she had always been like this and he had never noticed? No, it couldn't be.

He found himself clenching his fists.

He had to get away from her.

He was filled with a pleasant feeling of warmth that he hadn't felt since the war began.
His pulse quickened, and the blood rushing through his veins began to focus in one spot.

He had to get away.

 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

I wanted to post this tomorrow, but I couldn't stop my self! To everyone who read and
left kudos on the first chapter: thank you , I really appreciated it and I hope you'll like
this second chapter❤

The Slytherin took refuge in the back of the shop, waiting for his erection to disappear. "It's
all normal," he kept telling himself. He hadn't been with a girl in over a year: his body was
starting to feel it and the testosterone explosion of the last few months definitely made things
harder.

Maybe he should reach out to Pansy, for old time's sake.

The thing that bothered him at the moment was that he'd had that reaction to Hermione
Granger.
He had always acknowledged to himself, though he would have never admitted it out loud in
the past, that Granger was objectively a pretty girl.
He first began to notice it after the Yule's Ball.
From then on it was a steady crescendo. His last year at Hogwarts, he could never forget, was
marked by sleepless nights spent in the Slytherin common room listening to his classmates
comment on how the Gryffindor had changed over the summer and betting on who she slept
with between Weasley and Potter.
Recalling those memories made the feeling of nausea in his stomach grow again, along with
another sensation that he couldn't identify but was just as unpleasant.
The good thing was that his erection was gone.

It didn't matter how much pretty she was. He had always tormented and despised her and the
least he could do now was leave her alone.

He finally re-emerged from the depths of the store and walked to the checkout counter to
purchase his books.
Next stop was Madam Malkin's store next door, after which he would head straight back to
the Manor, determined to avoid any more unwanted encounters.

***

Hermione, after her encounter with Draco, fled the store as fast as she could, almost
forgetting to stop at the cashier to pay.
She didn't know what had upset her so much about that encounter.
She was aware that she would met him sooner or later: she herself had testified on his behalf
so that he could have a normal life after the war.
Perhaps she was simply surprised that he had approached to help her and not to insult her, as
he had always done in the past.
A further surprise was the fact that she had met him at the bookshop. It was clear from the
books he was carrying that he was shopping for his Hogwarts' return, and she couldn't help
but notice from his books that he seemed to have chosen the exact same classes as her.

She mentally listed all the details that had characterized that brief encounter as she headed to
Madam Malkin's store around the corner, trying to find something to justify her reaction.
Why did she suddenly feel so agitated?
Her heart was beating at an accelerated rate.

She stopped in the doorway of the store.

"Take it easy, Hermione," she said to herself, before walking in.

Madam Malkin had prepared everything in advance for the beloved heroine.

She gave her her uniform to try on: shirt, sweater and skirt.
Hermione hated this part. There were only two fitting rooms in the store, one next to the
other, which always made her feel tremendously exposed.
Luckily, she was the only customer at the moment.

She began to undress, noticing, the moment she slipped off her jeans, how damp her panties
were.
No, not damp. Soaked.

Okay. Everything was normal. She had just been approached by a handsome guy, she couldn't
deny that. And indeed, things with Ron hadn't gone so well the past couple of months, so she
was missing some physical contact.
Maybe she could call him tonight, it would be one of the last chances to try to clear the air
between them before she left for Hogwarts. She began trying on the garments.
As soon as she finished closing the blouse she noticed that it was too tight on her breasts.
Since when did she have such a shape?
She made the clothes materialize outside the dressing room and called the owner.
"Could I get a bigger size?" she asked, happy that the curtain hid her cheeks red from
embarrassment.

"I gave you your usual size," the woman replied. She certainly wasn't the kind of person who
like to be contradicted about her work.

"Yes, it was right. But I think I'll need a bigger one for this year."
She heard a snort from the woman and then the sound of her heels start to move.

She looked at herself in the mirror again. If this were her new curves, she might as well
enhance it. "Madam Malkin?" She called.

"Yes?" she heard the woman's voice in the distance.

"Could I also have some underwear?" The girl asked as she heard the woman's heels
disappear to the back of the room.
In that same moment, the front door opened.

Other customers, great.

Draco entered the store and his nostrils were flooded with a strange smell of…. sex. He felt
his penis begin to respond.

Just then he spotted Madam Malkin re-emerge from a corner of the shop holding a Hogwarts
uniform and a set of lingerie made of the most delicate white lace.
The universe wasn't exactly on his side today.

With those articles of clothing still in her hand, the woman greeted him.
"Mr. Malfoy, are you here for your uniform as well?"

"Yes" he answered, trying to take his eyes off the indument the woman was holding.
Unfortunately for him the image was now well imprinted in his mind: who knows who was
the girl, hidden behind the curtain of the dressing room, would wear that kind of underwear
under her uniform.
God, he really needed to let loose a little.

"Just a moment," the woman said, heading toward the occupied dressing room. With a snap
of her fingers the clothes in her hand materialized behind the curtains and were out of his
sight. However, his erection wouldn't give him a break; it was the smell of that place the real
problem.

"Miss Granger," the heart in the young man's chest skipped a beat, "I assumed you needed the
underwear in a larger size as well," the woman concluded.

At that very moment, Hermione wished she could open a hole in the ground and slip into it
until she reappeared on the other side of the earth.
Was it possible to be more embarrassed than that?

She heard the young man's footsteps approach. He had entered the dressing room next to the
one she was in. She wanted to avoid meeting his face, so she dressed as quickly as she could,
without even trying on the new clothes. She was going to buy them on trust, by eye they
looked the right size. She just had to be quick enough to pay and be gone before he finished
trying on his uniform. She could do it.

When the store owner had revealed the identity of the girl who was going to wear that
underwear the young man's hormones exploded.
He dashed into the fitting room as fast as he could. His head was now flooded with images of
Hermione Granger in her underwear.

What an awful day.

Forgetting about his uniform, he focused on the white wall in front of him, trying to occlude
those images, or at at least push them away until he got home.
However, regardless of his imagination, there was something else that gave his penis no
respite.

That fucking smell. The smell that he now knew belonged to Hermione Granger.
He could hear her moving quickly in the dressing room, probably getting dressed. All those
movements, however, did nothing but move more air toward his nostrils.
God, since when did Hermione Granger smell so divine?

Hermione walked out of the dressing room, paid and headed for the door. As soon as she
crossed the threshold she appareted directly in front of the door of her apartment in Muggle
London. Fortunately, it was on the top floor, so no one had seen her.
After closing the door behind her
she grabbed some ink, a feather, and a piece of parchment.
She was going to write Ron.

As she thought about the words to use, she noticed Ron's little owl waiting outside her
window.

She smiled at the timing, slipping the parchment from the bird's beak with a shiver of
excitement. He had a good feeling about this.
She was going to show off her new underwear, enhancing her even newer form. Things were
finally going to work out, they were going to make it work.

Do you have plans tonight? I need to see you. Ron.

Draco spent several minutes in the dressing room after Hermione was gone, waiting for her
smell to fade.
After that he gathered his things and walked out of the store with his new uniform, apparating
directly in front of the Manor gates.
His vivid imagination continued to torment him with images of the Gryffindor's body.
Not just in white underwear: he thought about how she would look totally naked. Maybe
underneath him. Or on top.

Was she going to wear those panties under her uniform at Hogwarts? Or maybe she would
wear no panties at all.

He thought about what it would be like to take her between the library shelves, among her
beloved books-

NO.

He had to get this nosense out of his mind. He'd had a long day, and he hadn't often gone out
at night since he'd gained his freedom. But why lock himself away?
After all, even though he felt like he didn't deserve it, he was a free man.

He took ink and parchment, wrote a message for his old flame, Pansy, and handed it to the
family owl to deliver.
Dinner tonight? D.M.
 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes

I would like to thanks everyone who left kudos, saved and commented!
I'm impatient to go on with the story and find out what do you think about it. ❤

He was waiting for Pansy in a small restaurant in Diagon Alley. He showed up early, mainly
for two reasons. The first, of logistical nature, was to secure a table, preferably in a secluded
corner away from prying eyes.
Only a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts he was well aware that the entire wizarding
world held a grudge against him and his family and he wanted to avoid a scene in front of his
old flame.
The second reason was that he felt strangely agitated, or rather aroused, by the day's events.
He kept telling himself that the reaction his body had to the Gryffindor's girl was totally
normal and due to his lack of physical contact.
He was certain that seeing Pansy again would have had the same identical effect: it would
bring back old memories and his penis and his imagination could finally focus on something
else and give him a break from Hermione Granger.

Getting the desired table was easier than he had anticipated. Evidently his galleons were more
important than his deployment during the war. He would have to pay handsomely, but he
didn't care. He just wanted the evening to go well.
He sat down and started waiting for Pansy, sipping a glass of wine in the meantime. Knowing
her, she was going to make him wait. Not long, but enough to be, as she liked to call herself,
elegantly late.

Five minutes past their appointment time.

It was still early. She was definitely going to make him wait a little longer. Although seen
from the outside he might look relaxed and totally at ease, on the inside he felt the exact
opposite.

Ten minutes.

He kept his eyes on the door. He knew she would be there anytime now, but the closer that
moment got, the more nervous he felt.

Several customers were entering the club.

He saw a mass of curly hair in the crowd and his breath catch. The blood began to boil in his
veins.
The owner of that thick mass turned in his direction.

It wasn't her.
He breathed a sigh of relief.
His pulse, which had accelerated terribly during those five seconds, slowed down, leaving
him in the company of the usual erection that had been tormenting him since the beginning of
the day.

Was he really in such bad shape that he would shrink like this at the mere thought of her
presence?

"Mmh mmh."

He looked up.
Pansy was standing in front of him.
And he hadn't even heard her coming, too distracted by his erection for Hermione Granger.

The evening had definitely not started the way he had imagined.

He stood up, straining to hide the unpleasant protrusion behind the table.

"Pansy," he greeted her. He leaned in her direction and the two of them exchanged a half hug
and a kiss on the cheek.

Upon contact with her skin he was overwhelmed by her scent, noting, with much regret, that
it was far, far too different from Hermione's.

He felt the girl's eyes on him, squaring him from head to toe. When they were seated the girl
grabbed her glass.

"You look good, Draco," she said, bringing it to her lips.

As soon as the flames of her apartment's fireplace ignited, revealing Ron's presence a
moment later, Hermione threw herself on him, wrapping her arms around his neck and
bringing their lips into contact. She kissed him voraciously.

Though initially surprised by that welcome, the redhead responded to the kiss, resting both
hands on his girlfriend's hips. When one of Hermione's hands slipped down from his neck
and caressed his side, he took a step back, breaking the contact.
He looked at her for a few seconds.

"Um, hi," he said, embarrassed and surprised.

Hermione was wearing a simple, light summer dress, with her brand new underwear
underneath. She took the obvious discomfort on Ron's face as a positive reaction. Perhaps her
attempt to look sexy had worked.

"Hi," she replied to the young man's greeting, taking a step forward in an attempt to regain
the lost contact.

She didn't get the reaction she'd hoped for. Instead of wrapping his arms around her hips, the
redhead merely stroked her arms with both hands for a moment, before sitting down on the
couch.
Hermione followed him.

She was starting to get confused. Hadn't he said he wanted to see her? Maybe she had
misunderstood.

"Have you thought about it?" he asked, interrupting her stream of thought.

Hermione heard the sound of his voice but it took her a few seconds to reconnect with reality.
She felt so terribly aroused.
She just craved physical contact, a powerful, muscular body on top of her.
She was starting to sweat.
She tried to concentrate, moving her hair away from her neck to lessen the feeling of heat.
"To what?"

"To what?" raising his tone of voice and caught up in the conversation, the redhead
approached her. "To what we've been discussing for the past few weeks, Hermione."

"There's nothing to think about," she huffed. She wanted to stop talking. She'd had this
conversation dozens of times.
And his body was so close.
"Why can't you accept my decision to go back to Hogwarts?" she managed to say.

Ron turned entirely toward her, still remaining seated on the couch.
Their knees rubbed together, giving her goosebumps. Why didn't he feel the same way?

"Because it's not necessary, Hermione. Harry and I got into Auror course without even
getting our N.E.W.T.s, and you could get any job you want."

He grabbed her hand and she felt relieved by the physical contact.

"And if you decide to stay you could give up this stupid apartment and move with me to the
burrow."

No.
She had no intention of reopening this topic. There was nothing to discuss: she wasn't moving
in with Ron and his parents.
As much as she missed her own parents, living with the Weasleys wouldn't give her back the
family she lost.

However, even the anger she now felt towards Ron couldn't diminish her arousal.
So she couldn't help but sigh when the redhead let go of her hand and grabbed her arm.

Yes.

A moment later he lifted his other hand, resting it on her neck.

Yes. Yes. Yes.

He lifted both hands, bringing them gently to her cheeks. Hermione sighed again.
Perhaps she hadn't totally misunderstood the intention of his message after all.

She closed her eyes, anticipating the kiss that would come.

She felt something rest on her forehead. It was the back of the redhead's hand.
She opened her eyes again.

The boy was looking at her strangely.

"Hermione, are you feeling okay? You're burning up."

"I'm fine," she replied. She felt disappointed, furious, and embarrassed.

"Are you sure? I think you have a fever."

"Very sure, Ron, thank you," she huffed.

She stood up. The evening had not gone at all as she had imagined.

"Is there anything else you wanted to tell me?" She asked. She suddenly felt nervous and
frustrated.

"Um, I guess not."

"Good." She grabbed a bag of floor powder and handed it to him.

Hesitantly the redhead grabbed it and walked into the fireplace.

"If you change your mind you know where to find me" he said, before disappearing in a
green blaze.

Draco and Pansy ordered food and talked about their old friends and their years at Hogwarts.
Talking to her was easy and took him back to the time before the war.

They had already devoured half their plates when, after laughing at an anecdote about
Theodore Nott, an awkward silence fell over the table.

Before Draco could think of another story to tell he was interrupted by the girl.

Pansy set aside the fork she was holding and looked him straight in the eye.
"I'm not, Draco." Her tone was serious, lacking the frivolity she had until moments before.

The young man did not understand.

"An omega," she explained herself.

He still didn't understand. Why was she telling him this?

To his dumbfounded expression Pansy replied with an annoyed sigh, beginning to explain
herself.
"I thought you'd want to know, didn't you?" she turned cold. "Dinner and all, wasn't that the
reason for all of this? I'll be nineteen next week, the age when every young omega manifests
".
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, no longer able to sustain his gaze.
"My parents are convinced it will happen because my grandmother was an omega, but I know
it won't. By now I should have felt something, at least the slightest change.
But I feel nothing."

She went back to looking at his face. "You're an Alpha, if I was an omega by now we would
both know it."

Draco opened his mouth to retort. He had no idea what she was talking about. How could he
tell if she was or not? He had never seen an omega in his entire life and right now his mind
was so focused on Hermione Granger that he wouldn't recognize one if she jumped on him.

"Pansy, I don't care what you are or aren't." And it was true. He didn't care at all. He just
wanted to have a pleasant evening, get her into bed and forget about Hermione and her damn
white lace.

"Oh Draco please," she wiped away a clandestine tear with the palm of her hand. "This
morning your father talks to mine and a few hours later I get an invitation from you to dinner.
Are you going to tell me that's just a coincidence?"

The Slytherin took a few seconds to assimilate the new information.

She caught the look of surprise on his face." Ah, so you really don't know then?"

"What should I know?"

"The old Lucius is working hard to ensure his only heir has an omega to procreate with."

Draco, deep down, knew this. He knew that sooner or later his father would choose a
pureblood girl for him and force him to marry her. Still, he believed he had time.
All that talk about completing his education, clearing the Malfoy name and stuff like that.

"I don't think so. I'm going back to Hogwarts this year."

Pansy laughed. "Yes, to complete your education, right?"

The girl rested her elbows on the table, going against every etiquette's rules, and approached
him.

"He's stalling. Next on his list is Astoria Greengrass, Dapnhe's younger sister, seventeen
years old. He's hoping your alpha hormones will recognize her as an omega so you can get
married before she manifests"
Pansy recoiled, grabbing her wine glass and taking a long sip.
"Dapnhe doubts it will happen." She drank again "but maybe you'll actually find an omega at
Hogwarts" she added.
Draco suddenly felt the blood boiling in his veins from anger. He didn't care about finding an
omega at the moment.
Maybe he was the one being weird.
"Do you really think I care?" he glared at her.

The girl raised an eyebrow, intrigued by his reaction.

Draco took the chance. "Let me prove it to you."

It had worked.

They left the restaurant and apparated in the apartment where Pansy lived without her
parents' knowledge.
As soon as they crossed the threshold of the bedroom, the girl latched onto his lips, while
with her hands she began to open the buttons of his shirt.

Draco hesitated for a moment. Although the situation was pleasant and familiar there was
something strange about it. A part of him felt like something was missing.

He tried hard not to think, assaulting the girl's breasts with his own hands and undressing her
in turn.

He had a plan in mind. He would have liked to start gently, kissing and licking every inch of
her body.
However, now that he was standing in front of her naked body the idea no longer engaged
him.
Not that he wasn't excited, because he was, very much so.

But his nostrils were causing him some problems. They were rebelling against that smell.
They were crying out for Hermione's. He found himself thinking about what it would be like
to lick the Gryffindor's skin, savoring every drop of her arousal.
His penis throbbed at the idea as Pansy pulled it out of his boxers.

He grabbed her hands, stopping her from stroking him. He wanted to get right to the point, he
needed it.
He picked her up and carried her to the bed.

He entered her with a firm thrust and the girl moaned.

He began to thrust into her with an ever increasing rhythm.
The more his pace increased, the more his mind drifted away from the present, thinking of
soft hips framed by white lace.

He strained to focus on the girl beneath him, but as soon as he opened his eyes he saw
Hermione Granger.
Her face pink, her mouth open, her thick hair scattered haphazardly over her matress,
becoming more ruffled thrust after thrust.
His penis pulsed again and with one last thrust his vision darkened. The most powerful
orgasm he had ever experienced assaulted him.

In his head a single image.

Hermione Granger.
 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes

These firsts chapters are a bit short, i know. But as we go on with the story their became
longer, i promise.
Thanks again to everyone reading this ❤

August 26th

Hermione had spent the week following her argument with Ron in her apartment. It was a
ritual for her to spend entire days reading before the start of the new year.

Although in her early years she was driven not only by a deep-seated curiosity but also by a
fear of being unprepared, she could now say that her fear, fuelled by constant insecurity, had
vanished. In its place, however, was the desire to never be caught unprepared.

Those who know her also know that Hermione Granger isn't the kind of person who likes
surprises or unexpected things: she likes to be in control of the situation, to plan, to decide
and to evaluate carefully before making any decision. Despite all the misadventures she'd
encountered over the years, there had been very few occasions in which she'd been caught off
guard.

However, her stay in the house those days was not solely due to a desire to get on with her
studies. She had to hand it to Ron, although she still felt angry about the evening's events,
that he had been right about one thing: she did have a fever. It lasted a few days, disappearing
as suddenly as it had come. She didn't think much about it, presenting no other worrying
symptoms, convinced it was a simple Muggle flu.

She was lost in her new potions manual, sipping a cup of tea, when an owl appeared at her
window. It wasn't Hedwig, nor was it Ron's owl.
She opened the message.

To Miss Hermione Granger

For your impeccable and brilliant conduct over the years and your heroic actions during the
war, I am sure you will be a shining example to the rest of the students. It is for this reason
that I have decided to nominate you Head Girl.
As soon as you arrive at Hogwarts, please come to my office, I need to talk to you.

Headmistress
Minerva Mcgonagall
Behind the letter was a small package containing her badge. She felt enormously elated: she
was flattered. Becoming head girl had been her main goal since first year.

She couldn't wait to get back.

The days before the first of September weren't particularly eventful days for Draco either.

The strange conversation he had with Pansy had piqued his curiosity.

She believed that, being an alpha, he would be able to recognize an omega even before she
manifested, but he didn't understand how that could be possible. It made him realize that he
knew absolutely nothing about the subject. All his information came from what his father had
told him. But how could Lucius claim to know so well the dynamics between Alpha and
Omega? After all, he himself had not found one.

So he decided to delve into the most abundant and dusty meanderings of the Manor's library
to learn more. He found a book that suited his purpose and began to read.

Alpha
The alpha sits at the top of the hierarchy. He is dominant. His full maturation occurs by the
age of 18. At that point the physical transformation takes place: his glands (located in the
joint between the neck and shoulder) begin to produce pheromones. His sense of smell
develops considerably: he must be able to recognize an omega. An alpha is able to detect the
presence of an omega in heat even at great distances. Towards its omega the alpha can
become enormously protective and possessive. An alpha will do anything to please its omega,
but will never let other alphas get close. When an omega goes into heat, the hormones of the
alpha are activated so that he goes through a similar process. During mating, the alpha
marks his omega by sinking his canines in her glands: in this way his smell will remain
imprinted on her, keeping other alphas away.

Draco felt nauseous. This was all surreal. And there were wizards who considered this lucky?
He continued reading.

Beta
Betas are phenotypically normal humans. Betas are wizards who do not show any
presentation on their 18th birthday. Their sense of smell is not developed so they are not able
to recognize an omega by her smell. However, they can impregnate her, even though they are
not biologically programmed to deal with her "heat" period. They have glands but do not
produce an odor. They tend to have light, almost neutral odors. Beta women do not go into
heat like omegas, but they can still get pregnant. However, magical pregnancies are
challenging and risky for a witch, and they rarely manage to carry more than one pregnancy
to term.

Omega
The omega is at the base of the hierarchy. Is a being totally prone to submission. The
vibrations caused by the deep tone of voice of the alpha are able to subdue an omega and
force her to obey, even against her will.
Unlike the alpha, an omega's biology is fully developed between the ages of 19 and 20.
While magical pregnancies are dangerous and risky, an omega is biologically programmed
for them. From her 19th birthday, she can come into heat once every three months, during
which time she can become pregnant. The glands of an omega are very active and
proliferative: they produce and release an enormous quantity of pheromones into the
environment. The alpha will be attracted by the smell, which will be very sweet.

Draco noticed that there was a whole section that described the sexual relationship between
an alpha and an omega. He didn't know whether to feel mortified or aroused.
The amount of fluid described was embarrassing, the duration of the intercourse also.
An alpha was able to go on for days during his omega's heat period.

He heard footsteps approaching and closed the book with a clatter.

It was his mother, walking quickly.
"Draco, a letter came for you…"

As soon as she turned the corner and saw the book in his hand she fell silent and her
expression, which was strangely smiling, darkened.

Draco tried to put the book aside, but it was too late. He blushed.

His mother approached. "If you want to talk about it," she said, gently patting his shoulder, "I
won't judge you."

So, just a few moments later, he found himself drinking tea with his mother, immersed in a
strange conversation revolving around sex, but without never clearly saying that word.
"Why do you think he is so obsessed with finding one for me?" asked Draco, referring to
Lucius.

Narcissa gently set down her cup. "He could never find one for himself," she shrugged. "We
were in love and happy.
When we married I was eighteen and many were convinced I would be. My mother was an
omega, and none of my sisters seemed to have inherited the gene, that left only me." She
sighed "but nothing happened. Your father kept saying it wasn't important, that he loved me.
But getting pregnant wasn't easy. I had several unsuccessful pregnancies before I was able to
have you. For a time we feared we wouldn't be able to have children."

Draco was amazed at his mother's honesty; he had never heard that story. That didn't excuse
his father's actions, but at least now they made sense to him. "What does an omega look like?
Why are they so rare?"

"I wish I could answer that. The only one I knew up close was my mother, but she was
already a grown woman," she seemed to ponder for a few seconds
"when we were young, the only one there was between us was Molly Weasley. Your father
was not yet an alpha at the time. It was quite a scandal: every alpha in all England wanted to
marry her, but she chose Arthur". Narcissa smiled.

"They had been in love since they were kids, and when she manifested and he didn't it wasn't
easy. Even after their marriage several alphas kept showing up at their doorstep, smelling
Molly from a distance." She took a sip from his cup.
"I think that's why they had so many children."

Draco nodded. He had no words to express his disgust at the new informations. Being an
omega had to be awful.
He suddenly felt sorry for them, and at the same time he felt a sense of anger towards himself
and the ones like him.
He thought about the alphas who had shown up on the doorstep of a married woman with
children and shuddered.
Would he be like that too?
Would he completely lose his mind in front of an omega?
He clenched his fists.

"Son" Narcissa interrupted him "I came to tell you that a letter arrived from Hogwarts". She
handed it to him "I'm sorry, I opened it. I was afraid Minerva had second thoughts and
withdrew your admission."

The woman seemed unable to contain her excitement as the young man read the paper in
front of him.

"You have been chosen as Head Boy".

September 1, 1998

The day of the departure had finally arrived. Hermione felt excited to begin her final year as
Head Girl and without any Dark Lork that threatened to compromise her education.

However, the ride to the platform nine and three quarters was grim. She had never made that
trip alone.
She missed her parents and her best friends more than ever in that moment.
Once she reached the platform she looked around. She knew she had arrived early, but there
were already several people there, mostly first year kids.
She was looking at them tenderly when she felt someone touch her shoulder: a small blonde
girl with long tracks had approached her.
Behind her there were two adults, probably her parents.

"Are you Hermione Granger?" the little girl asked. "Can we get a picture?"

Hermione was initially incredulous and bashful at that request, but agreed. She didn't
particularly like receiving attention.
When her vision, blinded by the camera flash, recovered, she realized that Narcissa and
Draco Malfoy were watching her from afar.
The woman began walking in her direction, and Hermione suddenly felt flustered.

"Mum, what are you doing?" whispered Draco in the woman's ear as she uncontrollably
walked closer and closer to Hermione.
Before he knew it, the three of them found themselves face to face.

Hermione felt herself seething at the sight of the young man. She wished she could have
observed him better, but Narcissa Malfoy's gaze fixed on her made her enormously in awe.

Draco, on the other hand, totally forgot about his mother once he was in front of her.
The emotions he'd felt when he'd met her in Diagon Alley were a grain of sand in the ocean
compared to what he felt now: the actual ocean. He felt like he was seeing her for the first
time in his life. She was beautiful. Her skin was so smooth and pink, her cheeks were slightly
red with embarrassment. And her smell. God, that smell.

He'd done nothing but thinking about it all week, and it was even better than he remembered.
He wondered if she tasted so sweet too, and his penis answered. He moved his suitcase,
trying to hide his erection. His gaze fell on her lips. Small and red.
He watched as her tongue flicked out imperceptibly to moisten them as she spoke.

In that moment he was able to reconnect with reality. Granger was talking. To his mother.
About what?

"Miss Granger," Narcissa had said, smiling and grabbing Hermione's hand. "I wanted to
apologize to you on behalf of the entire Malfoy family for what happened to you in our house
during the war." Hermione remained silent. This day was taking an almost paradoxical turn.
The woman continued, letting go of the girl's hand.
"And I wanted to thank you tremendously for testifying at my son's trial." At that moment,
Draco would have preferred to sink into the ground.

"You don't have to thank me," Hermione replied extremely softly, smiling at the woman. "It
was the right thing to do."

"The Malfoys owe you and Mr. Potter, Miss Granger," Narcissa concluded. Draco couldn't
believe his ears.
Evidently neither could Hermione, given the way her eyes jumped from him to his mother in
disbelief.

After that brief chat, mother and son walked away, leaving the Gryffindor alone with a
thousand questions.

"What was that?" asked Draco to his mother.

"My attempt to clear our family name," the woman answered decisively.
"Your father is not out here, he has a blindfold on. He can't see how the world has changed"
she grabbed him by the arm, forcing him to look her in the eye.

"You've been given a huge chance," she said, pointing with her gaze to the pocket where his
Head Boy badge was located.
"Don't waste it," she scolded him sternly.
 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes

Thank to everyone who saved, left kudos and commented!

I really hope you're enjoying this! ❤

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Draco.

"Potter. You have to do everything you can to make him your friend this year," insisted
Narcissa.

Draco didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or scream. However he was in public, so he opted
for none of the three.
"You don't know what you're talking about, mother. He hates me, and he has every reason to,"
he brought one hand to his forehead, while with the other he held his own trunk firmly up in
front of him, hiding the erection caused by Hermione.

His penis didn't want to give him a break. And she didn't want to give a break to his penis,
with her stupid scent and her stupid pink skin and her stupid soft hips wrapped perfectly in
those stupid, outrageous pants that Muggles call jeans.

He tried to put a stop to his mother's absurd plans.

"Potter is not coming to Hogwarts this year". He sighed "he and Weasley have been taken to
the Auror class."

Narcissa stared at him with both eyebrows raised in amazement. "Without even finishing
their N.E.W.T.s?"

"Evidently having defeated Lord Voltemort is more important than taking a diploma." He
caught the discomfort he had caused in his mother by saying that name, but he didn't care.
Voldemort was dead and he didn't want him to have any more influence over his life.

Narcissa wrapped both arms around her chest haughtily. "Then you have no choice, son," she
said, looking at him apprehensively. "You're going to have to be friend with that girl, the
m…"

Draco knew very well what his mother was about to say. Old habits die hard.
He glared at her. Say it mother, he thought to himself. Let's see if you dare.
Mudblood.

"Miss Granger," Narcissa concluded. "I know there's a stormy past, but showing up in her
vicinity would give a great impression of the Malfoy's change in the eyes of the magical
world."

Draco couldn't take any more of that talk. Interrupting his mother in the middle of what had
by now become a full-blown monologue, he greeted her with a hasty kiss and headed for the
train.
Contrary to his mother's wishes, and his own penis, he was determined to stay as far away
from Hermione Granger as possible.

Hermione boarded the train still puzzled by her encounter with the Malfoys. Narcissa was
certainly a woman who had a way with words, and brave enough to look her in the eye and
apologize for what had happened. Shee had to hand it to her, she'd had guts.

That was no small feat, Hermione considered, since not only had she been tortured in the
woman's home, but also at the hands of her deceased sister.

She found an empty compartment on the train and sat down, making herself comfortable and
pulling from her bag one of the many books she had already read and reread over the past
week. She looked out the window at all the students heading for the train, accompanied by
their parents. It was so easy to tell the muggleborns from the purebloods.

However, compared to her early years at Hogwarts, she saw many purebloods chatting
politely with Muggle parents, while their children exchanged shy greetings or big hugs.
Perhaps Narcissa's reaction indicated that something had changed among Britain's pureblood
elite.
She was happy. All the suffering she'd gone through maybe, in the end, had led to something
good.
Maybe.

Parents were exchanging final hugs with their children, the train was about to leave. The
compartment door opened revealing Luna and Ginny, who sat down together.
The girls greeted each other by exchanging a hug.

"You're different, Hermione," Luna exclaimed, taking a seat across from her.

"Of course she is," retorted Ginny. "You look great Hermione."

Hermione blushed. She didn't like being noticed, unless it was for school merit. Certainly
receiving appreciation about her body was something she wasn't used to and made her feel
enormously uncomfortable.

"Emh… Thank you," she murmured embarrassedly, grabbing the book she had on her lap
with the intention of disappearing behind the cover.

The train departed and Hermione lost herself in reading, occasionally looking out the window
to enjoy the view one last time.

When they were about halfway through, she put the book aside.
In previous years this was usually the time when all the prefects would gather at the back of
the train to organize their arrival at Hogwarts.
Excited to finally show off her brand new head-girl badge and get to work, she stood up and
left the compartment.
She walked to the bathroom and put on her uniform, placing her brand new badge in plain
view.

As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom she crashed into something hard.
Not something, someone.
She looked up and found that standing in front of her was Ernie McMillan.
She knew him well, he had been Hufflepuff's prefect and, despite belonging to a renowned
pureblood family, he had fought with Dumbledore's army to the last.

But there was something different about him. He was taller, and muscular. She felt herself
grow hot and felt her cheeks begin to blush.
Her mind suddenly thought of Draco.
She didn't know why, but she wished he was standing in front of her instead of Ernie,
towering over her in all his height.
She thought she was going crazy.

Ernie was standing in front of her, staring at her predatorily, almost threateningly. His pupils
were dilated and she realized he had her back against the wall.

"Um, were you looking for me, Ernie?" the girl asked.

The young Hufflepuff seemed to recover at the sound of her voice. He took a step back,
looking around with the expression of someone who didn't know how he found himself there.
His pupils narrowed, revealing his blue irises.

"Yes," the boy said, loosening the knot of his tie with his hands and not looking her in the
eye. "The other prefects are waiting for you," he concluded, walking with quick steps towards
the last carriage, not waiting for Hermione to follow him.

The girl stood motionless for a moment, trying to understand what had just happened.
With a shrug of her shoulders she let those thoughts go and focused on the speech she, as
head girl, would have to give to the prefects.
As she made her way to the last car, she wondered who would join her in that role.

Probably Ernie, she thought, given his impeccable accademic record and the enormous
contribution he had offered during the war.
Or maybe Antony Goldstein of Ravenclaw: he hadn't fought side by side with the Order of
the Phoenix but he was the second best student in the school, after her of course.

She quivered with excitement as her hands gripped the handle of the compartment that would
resolve her doubts and reveal the identity of the head boy and the new prefects.

However, the result was not what she had expected.

Before she could even see who there was in the compartment she was assaulted by a smell, or
rather, a perfume.
It was very masculine, smelling of musk.
She was amazed by how quickly it invaded her nostrils.
The rational and logical part of her brain was telling her that someone had overdone it with
cologne, but another part of her, which she could not recognize, was screaming testosterone.

There was only one person in the compartment, not the crowd of people she had expected.
Draco Malfoy.
She thought she had made a mistake.

"Sorry" she said embarrassed. She was about to turn around and go when her eyes met the
blond man's gray irises.

She saw his pupils dilate instantly.

She felt hot. Something inside her lit up.

The young man moved in the small sofa he was sitting on and Hermione thought he was
going to get up and join her.
Her heart began to beat rapidly while her mind, against all logic, only screamed YES.

But the young man did not get up. He remained in his seat. His fists clenched so tightly that
his knuckles turned white.

Hermione realized her thoughts, feeling enormously embarrassed. She really needed to let go
a little.
She felt a warm sensation between her legs.
She felt mortified enough by now not to bother leaving in the most indelicate and uneducated
way possible.

She was about to disappear when, a moment before she closed the door violently, a reflex
caught her attention.
On the Slytherin's uniform was a badge identical to her own.

"You?" She exclaimed with an open mouth.

Draco was alone in the compartment. He knew she was coming, the new head-girl. It was
obvious, wasn't it? Who else if not her?

The real surprise, as it turned out, was him.

A surprise that the other prefects had not taken well at all.
As soon as the train reached Hogwarts he was going to talk to the headmistress about retiring
from that role.

In the meantime, he had to get ready to face Hermione. He had heard her coming: her scent
preceded her.

He had only been near her twice and that smell was already imprinted so well in his nostrils.
When he found her in front of him, he had to use all his strength and self-control to remain in
his seat. He didn't know what was happening to him and why he suddenly felt this
irrepressible desire for her.

He thought that perhaps he had always felt it, repressing it because of what she was, of her
blood.
Now that all his blood prejudice were discarded, the desire had exploded and he craved that
forbidden fruit.

But there was something else. He could feel it, and he didn't understand what it was.

"If you want to protest, you have to get in line," he replied coldly to the Gryffindor's
amazement.

Hermione quickly regained her sanity. She sat down in the seat farthest from him. "I actually
think it makes sense," she stated, more to herself than to the Slytherin. "How did I not think
of that," she chided herself.

Draco was suddenly curious. "About what?" he asked.

"You and me. We're practically opposites…" he gestured as he spoke. "Gryffindor, Slytherin,
pureblood, and…" she was silent for a moment, letting that word he'd so wanted to erase
from the dictionary hang between them. "Probably McGonagall wants to show that the world
has changed since the war, but without feeding any more prejudices."

At that moment Draco didn't care. He couldn't follow the words that left her mouth.
Her constant gesticulating only spread her scent. The buttons on her blouse shifted with every
movement she made, eventually allowing a glimpse of what the Slytherin feared more than
anything in the world: white lace.

He now knew that Hermione Granger was wearing a white lace bra underneath her uniform.
That image would never leave him again.

"Malfoy?" repeated the girl.

"I asked if you know where the others are."

The young man focused on the present. "Yes," he affirmed. His voice was hoarse and deep.
He tried to use a normal tone. He coughed, "They're in the next compartment."

"Good. Let's go," the girl urged him.

Draco watched in disbelief and helplessness as Hermione, as if it were the most normal thing
in the world, explained to the prefects what their duties would be and imposed her, or rather
their, authority as head of the school.
Despite the initial dismay and bewilderment of all present, the girl was convincing. All it
took was a simple speech from her to stop the grim looks and the glares against him.
His mother was right about her.

The journey went on smoothly and the two heads did not exchange any more words until
their arrival at Hogwarts. After that they parted ways, each of them taking place on their own
house tables at the opposite ends of the Great Hall.

Draco joined his friends, Blaise, Theo, and Pansy.

As soon as he sat down all three looked at him in disbelief and Pansy nearly choked.

"I don't believe it," exclaimed the girl before she burst out laughing. "You? Head Boy?"

Theo reached out his hand towards the badge, as if to touch it to verify that it was real.

Blaise merely shook his head, smiling at his two friends' reactions. "Who's with you?" he
asked Draco.

"Granger," he replied, searching for her hair amidst the crowd in the great hall.

Blaise replied with a contrite expression, turning his gaze in the same direction as the blond's.

Both Slytherins spotted her at the same time, a thick, untamed mane of curly hair sitting
between Ginny Weasley and Seamus Finnigan.

"What's the matter Zabini, are you jealous?" taunted Pansy.

Theo laughed.

Draco clenched his fists. He wanted to know more. "Why would he be?" he asked, rolling his
eyes between his three friends.

Blaise finally took his eyes off the head girl's hair. "No," he replied dryly, grabbing his fork
and knife and assaulting the roast on his plate.

"Will someone explain to me what's going on?" the blond continued, trying to appear as
casual and disinterested as possible, while an unpleasant feeling grew in his chest. Suddenly
he was no longer hungry.

"Blaise's got his eye on the mudblood," Pansy asserted, laughing.

Theo elbowed her. "Are you crazy?" the boy looked around. "You're going to get yourself
expelled if you keep repeating that."

Pansy and Theo took to discussing the various and sundry consequences of using that word in
Minerva Mcgonagall's new Hogwarts.
Theo argued that the girl would end up getting herself expelled, while Pansy pointed out that
Draco, the one who had abused the term over and over in the past, had not only been
readmitted but even named head boy.

Draco no longer listened to them, too distracted by the recent information. Why Blaise was
suddenly interested in Hermione? And why was he feeling so furious at the news?

"Granger, huh?" he asked his friend, trying not to arouse suspicion as his fists twisted in
anger under the table. "Since when?"
The dark-haired boy shrugged, stuffing a mouthful of roast into his mouth. "Since every inch
of her body screams sex," he swallowed, turning his head towards the Gryffindor table. "I've
always liked her, in a certain way. Now that her blood is no longer an issue and Weasley is
out of the way, why not?" he said.

Draco felt the instinct to hit him, but was distracted when he noticed Hermione getting up
from the table in complete solitude and leave the great hall.

Hermione got up from the table as soon as the sorting ceremony was over, directed to the
headmistress' office. She had said in her letter that she wanted to talk to her.

She pronounced the password and entered the office, noticing how it had changed since the
days when it belonged to Dumbledore.

"Hermione" the elderly woman greeted her from behind the desk.

"Headmistress" she replied.

"Just call me Minerva, after what we've been through" the woman pointed to one of the two
chairs in front of the desk. "Have a seat."

Hermione sat down. "You wanted to talk to me? " she asked.

"Yes" clarified the woman. "I think you already know who your partner in the role of head
boy will be." Hermione nodded. "And you must have already understood the reasons for my
choice, right?"

"Yes," Hermione replied.

"Very well," the woman said, leaning heavily against the back of the chair and removing her
glasses. "There is more, however. I ask you to let me finish explaining before saying
anything. After that I will answer any questions you may have. Is that okay? ". The girl
nodded again.
"It was my will, against the advice of the other professors, to readmit the children of former
Death Eathers to Hogwarts. I must admit that you and Harry Potter inspired me, with your
testimony at the Malfoy's trial. The goal of Hogwarts from this year onwards will not only be
to educate the wizards and witches of tomorrow, but also to break down every prejudice that
has ever characterized our society. The only way to really change things goes through the
education of the younger generations" Hermione continued to nod at the former professor's
words.

"It is for this reason that you and Mr. Malfoy will be sharing the old heads dormitory, which
is located in the vicinity of my office."

The headmistress stopped, contemplating the girl's stunned expression.

"You will have separate rooms, Hermione. You will only share the common room. The
purpose of the dormitory in the past was to allow the headmaster to communicate
immediately with the heads in case of danger. However, now my goal is to foster interaction
between houses and, as I mentioned, break down old prejudice. I trust you, Hermione, and I
know you will be able to set an example for future generations. Seeing you and Mr.Malfoy in
such proximity will enormously normalize, in the eyes of younger pureblood students,
something their parents always denied them. And, on the other hand, it will help the children
of former death eater to be reintroduced into society instead of isolating themself".

The girl didn't know what to say, she felt speechless at the news. She wanted to argue back, to
try and change the principal' mind, to try and make her understand that in no possible
universe could she and Draco ever get along.

As soon as she opened her mouth she was interrupted again by the old woman.

"You've never let me down, Hermione. You've faced worse things in the past. Your record is
impeccable and you are the youngest witch ever to be recognized a Merlin's order. I am
asking you to join me in the project of revolutionizing magical society, you are the only one I
can ask."

She had to admit that the woman knew where to strike. She had stirred her pride.

"All right," nodded the girl.

Mcgonagall stood up and pulled her into a hug. "Perfect, then. Go on back to the banquet,
and tell Mr. Malfoy I'll be waiting for him in my office".

It wasn't until some time later, when the sorting ceremony was over, that Hermione
reappeared in the great hall and, much to the surprise of all the Slytherins, headed in their
direction.

When she was in front of the quartet of friends both Blaise and Draco stood up for no
apparent reason.

"Hello Hermione," Blaise greeted her.

Hermione blushed, shyly moving a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hello," she replied uncertainly to the Slytherin, surprised by his greeting. After that, she
turned to Draco. "Malfoy, Mcgonagall wants you in her office," .

"Is there a problem for you Mr. Malfoy?" the old woman asked suspiciously.

Draco was feeling desperately frustrated. It was as if all the planets were aligning to make his
life a living hell. The woman continued. "Is it perhaps related to the blood status of the
headgirl? "

"No" he immediately replied, perhaps in a higher tone of voice than he should have.
"Very well," concluded the woman. "You have been given a great chance here, Mr. Malfoy, I
trust you will be able to show the world your change."

Draco left the principal' office and, as soon as he was sure he was alone and away from
unwanted eyes, he punched the nearest wall. If he had protested he would have been accused
of racism, probably even expelled, when actually he couldn't have cared less about the head-
girl blood status.

The problem was quite different.

Having established that dinner that night was out of the question, he headed for the library,
determined to dust off some old occlumency manuals he knew.

He would need them.

He would share the dormitory with her.

 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

Warning for this chapter: minor sexual content (masturbation)

The young Slytherin lingered well past curfew in the library, repeating occlumency,
meditation, and relaxation techniques that he had used before, albeit for different purposes.
If he had been told one year ago that he would be using the same techniques he used to keep
Voldemort out of his mind to be able to share a dormitory with Hermione Granger without
risking to jump on her, he would never have believed it.
Yet there he was.

Hermione finished her dinner and made her way to the tower where the principal's office was
located.
Despite the countless unexpected things she'd encountered during the day, from Narcissa
Malfoy's public apology to the news that she'd have to share a dormitory with her son, the
thing that currently troubled her and made blood boil in her veins had been Blaise Zabini's
sudden attentions.
She tried to think back. Had they ever spoken to each other?
She couldn't recall any particular interaction with the Slytherin before that day, except
perhaps some minor eye contact during Slughorn's dinners on the sixth year.

She thought of Draco again. He hadn't returned for dinner after Mcgonagall had called him
into her office.

What if they were still arguing? Maybe he had refused to share the dorm with her and was
still protesting with the headmistress. Maybe, as had already happened in the past, his father
would intervene and settle the situation with a large donation of money to the school.

She would find out soon enough.

She walked along the corridor in search of the painting that, according to Mcgonagall's
instructions, hid the access to the dormitory. It was easy to recognize: it represented the four
founders of Hogwarts, and next to it there was a shrine with the names of all the boys and
girls who had served as heads of the school over the years.
She recognized many of them: from the oldest ones, such as Albus Dumbledore, Tom Riddle,
Minerva Mcgonagall, to the most recent ones, among which there were three of the Weasley
brothers: Bill, Charlie and Percy.
She noted with curiosity that Harry's parents, James Potter and Lily Evans, were also named
head boy and girl during their seventh year.
She wondered how Harry could have not told her about this.
She felt an immense tenderness towards them.

And finally, the last addition to the list, her name appeared next to Draco Malfoy's.

She felt her legs tired and heavy and just wanted to sink into the bed. She had had a long day.
She uttered the password given to her by McGonagall, "Phoenix," and entered.

Draco wasn't there yet.

She took a few moments to observe the common room around her. It was almost as big as the
Gryffindor common room, but it was only for two. She was pleasantly impressed. Maybe it
wouldn't be as awful as she had imagined.
There was definitely more than enough space both of them.
There were two large couches in front of the fireplace and each wall housed overflowing
bookshelves that were ceiling high. She quivered at the thought of exploring the titles they
housed.
Behind the couches there were two large tables, similar to those in the library.

She would have a space all to herself to study, away from the constant suspicious glances of
Madame Prince in the library and the confusion of the Gryffondor's common room. Almost
all to herself, she reminded herself.
But that room was big enough for them to coexist peacefully, each with their own space. Or
at least she hoped so.
Where the tall bookcases ended there were two small staircases facing each other. They led to
their respective rooms. The one on the right had a red and yellow carpet, the one on the left a
green one.
She easily guessed which one was hers.

She entered what would be her new room. It was as big as the dormitory she shared in
Gryffindor tower, but this one was all for herself, she wouldn't be sharing it with anyone.
The bed in the center of the room was the same four-poster bed she had slept on for the
previous six years. There was also a small desk.
She noticed that on her right, next to the door she had just entered, there was another smaller
one.
She opened it and almost cried with joy.
She would have her own private bathroom.

At that moment she was convinced that this could work and that maybe she and Draco could
even get along.
She decided to enjoy the comforts of her new room by pampering herself with a hot shower.
She wondered for a second if she should wait for Draco to return, but decided against it. He
probably wouldn't want to see her. That is, if he showed up at all.

After comfortably lingering in the shower for a while, she finally slipped into her pajamas
and got into bed. It was almost curfew time. Draco wasn't back, she would have heard him
coming.
His conversation with Mcgonagall had obviously not gone well. Would she continue to
occupy that dormitory on her own? Or would the headmistress nominate another head boy?
Although it was late, she was not sleepy. And she was alone. In a soft, comfortable bed. In a
dorm that was finally all hers. She figured she deserved a little relaxation. She'd had a rough
day, and she definitely needed it, considering the way her body responded every time she was
approached by an handsome guy.

She dimmed the lights in the room with a flick of her wand, leaving only a faint light on the
opposite side of the bed. She made herself comfortable on her pillows and closed her eyes.
One hand slowly slipped under the elastic of her pants, while the other began to gently caress
her neck. Her fingers slipped under her panties and directly inside her.

She was always so wet lately.

She began to move her fingers slowly, up and down, curving them upward slightly, trying to
make up for the length that her fingers couldn't give her.
Her other hand moved from her neck to her breasts. She slipped it under the hem of her shirt
and began to caress and massage her nipples, imagining a pair of lips instead of her hand.
Lips of a certain Slytherin.
Initially she tried to think of Blaise. Her body responded, but her mind couldn't stay focused
for long.
The thought that Draco could be there beside her, separated only by a thin wall, sent a shiver
running down her body. She moved the hand she had on her breast lower, reaching for her
clit.
Both of her hands took on an ever increasing rhythm. The more her rhythm increased, the
more her mind thought about Draco.

What would he have done if he had walked through that door? Maybe he would have heard
her sighs and entered her room. He would have approached her on the bed, gently grabbing
her hands and removing them from where they were, replacing them with his own lips.
She imagined his face between her legs. His lips on her, his tongue inside her. His gray irises
completely obscured by his dilated pupils pointed on her.
Her body trembled. Her muscles twitched.
The orgasm made her palms writhe on the sheets, and she let out a small cry of pleasure.

The feeling was so intense that she didn't realize the front door of the dormitory had been
opened.
She only heard the dull sound it made when it closed again.

Draco had returned.

The young Slytherin was well aware that it was past curfew when he finally left the library
laden with books he would be focusing on over the next few weeks.

Being Head Boy certainly had its perks, and walking around unpunished past curfew was one
of them.

He searched for what would be his new dormitory, correcting his feet that, by muscle
memory, were mistakenly leading him in the direction of the dungeon. He pronounced the
chosen password. Phoenix, of course, so that he would be reminded every day of the mistakes
he had made and of his deployment during the war. As if his conscience wasn't already
constantly tormenting him.

He took a step inside and realized that all the occlumency in the world would not be enough
to allow him to live civilly with that girl.

He took a step in the direction he had come from, eager to get out, but the door had already
closed behind him and he went crashing into it. The books in his hand fell to the floor one
after the other, making sure to produce as much noise as possible. However, the least of his
worries was waking her up.
He was somehow certain that Hermione wasn't asleep. In fact, the smell of sex that infested
the room made him think she was in sweet company. God, could it be possible she was with
someone? Hermione Granger going wild in her private dorm on her first day as Head Girl? It
seemed surreal.

He hurried to gather his books when he heard footsteps moving behind the closed door of her
room.

Concerned by all the noise, her cheeks still flushed from the orgasm she had just experienced,
Hermione got out of bed and headed for the common room. A moment before she gripped the
handle of her door she realized the state of her hand, remembering where it had been just
moments before. She grabbed a handkerchief from her desk, waping her hand, and walked
out.

That was how Draco found himself looking at Hermione Granger wearing a simple pink
pajamas, her hair even more messy and wild than usual.
He almost expected to see someone else pop up behind her, but the girl was alone.

Draco bent down to pick up his books, holding his breath and hoping she wouldn't approach.
But of course it was a vain hope. Hermione picked up the last book on the floor for him.
When his hand reached out to take it from hers their fingers brushed against each other for an
imperceptible fraction of a second.
Imperceptible, yes. But not to him.
A shiver ran through his body.

He just wanted to run to his room and open the windows to get some air. However, Hermione
was apparently intent on making conversation.

"Where have you been?" the girl asked, looking at him from head to toe.

"You don't have to act Head Girl with me, Granger," he rolled his eyes and tried to turn away,
taking two steps towards his room. "Like it or not, so am I."

Hermione seemed taken aback by his words. Almost as if she hadn't expected them. Had he
disappointed her? Suddenly the young man felt guilty. His instincts suggested him to reach
out to her, to hold her and comfort her.

Fuck Draco, what the hell is wrong with you?

Just as he stopped holding his breath and took in air, the girl approached again, taking two
steps in his direction.

"I've prepared the shifts for the prefects patrol, we'll meet them tomorrow, after morning
classes."

"Great," he asserted. Let me go, he thought inwardly.

"I thought you wanted to check on it" Her tone of voice was so soft, it made her sound
fragile. Rationally he knew Hermione Granger was anything but fragile, but part of him kept
wanting to comfort her.

"I'm sure your shifts' plan is flawless Granger, there's nothing to check." He couldn't take it
anymore. He had to run to his room or he'd pounce on her. He needed fresh air.

The young man headed abruptly for his bedroom.

When he passed near her, he put a hand over his face, covering his nose and mouth, then
retreated to his room slamming the door violently behind him.

Hermione didn't miss his gesture and felt mortified. She went back to her room and checked
her breath. Did she stink? How was that possible? She had only gotten out of the shower an
hour ago. Malfoy had probably decided to continue tormenting her as he had always done in
the past: she had tolerated him for six years, she could do it for seven.

The next morning, after a night of tossing and turning in bed, Draco was awakened by the
sound of running water. He looked out the window: it was dawn.
Obviously Hermione Granger was a morning person.

His heart jolted and his penis, now almost constantly erect, pulsed inside his boxers. The
previous evening he had been so caught up in having to get away from Hermione that he
hadn't looked around.
Only now was he really realizing how the dormitory was structured. His penis throbbed
again.
A question hovered in his mind: where was the bathroom?

He got out of bed, the sound of his footsteps muffled by the noise of running water just one
wall away.
He went out into the common room, but except for the door to Hermione's bedroom there
were no others that suggested the presence of a shared bathroom. He looked around and
noticed the small door on the wall of his bedroom, which led to his private bathroom.
He should be feeling relieved. Yet he felt exactly the opposite.

Ashamed of his own thoughts, he opted for a cold shower to soothe his morning erection. He
made sure the jet of cold water was at its maximum intensity, hoping that if he no longer
heard the noises coming from the next wall, his mind would free him from the image of the
naked head girl in the shower.
These days his hopes were far too optimistic.
He suddenly changed the water jet from cold to hot and, immersed in a cloud of steam and
hidden even from himself, firmly grasped the erection that was tormenting him. He didn't
want to think about her. He tried to think of something else, but it was a total failure.
So his hand began to move up and down as his mind projected him a few feet away, inside
the shower of the head girl.

He imagined her wet body, bathed in steam. Her small hands caressing and soaping those soft
curves. He focused on those hands. Would they explore other parts of her body as well? He
thought back to the events of the night before: the room reeked of sex, but there was only
Hermione in it.

His hand began to move frantically over his penis. Had she been entertaining herself on her
bed? Was she going to do it with him present in the next room? Would she hold back her
moans and sighs, or would she being unable to hold some small cry of pleasure, letting it slip
out and reach his ears?
With one final, decisive movement of his hand the orgasm reached him violently. He knew
the mental image of Hermione Granger masturbating would not leave his mind anytime soon.

Perhaps he deserved just that. It was his punishment: the universe was making a mockery of
him by making him feel an insane and at times irrepressible attraction towards the person he
had always tormented and despised.

He was brought back to reality by the sound of the front door closing. Hermione had gone
out.
Good, at least he wouldn't have to interact with her that morning.

He dressed and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. He found his trio of friends sitting
in their usual spot at the far end of the Slytherin table.

"Good morning Draco," Pansy greeted him, peering at him suspiciously. "How was your first
night as head boy?"

"Fine," replied the blond, sitting down across from the girl, that raised an eyebrow eyeing
him.

"How does it feel to share a dorm with the famous war heroine?"

Draco took a large bite from his toast.

"I haven't even met her," he lied, "the dorm is big enough for us to avoid each other."

He noticed that Blaise, sitting next to Pansy, had stopped eating and was scanning the
Gryffindor table. Without saying anything to his friends, the dark-haired boy grabbed his
books and stood up, heading in the direction Hermione was.

"Where's he going?" asked Draco to the Slytherin couple who had remained seated to
continue their breakfast.
"Probably to get a resounding slap in the face," shrugged Theo. "If you ask me, his chances
with her are less than zero."

For some absurd reason, these words instilled a sense of relief in Draco's chest. "And why is
that?" he asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

"What do you mean, why?" laughed the young man, "We've been tormenting her for years,
we even tried to turn her best friend over to Voldemort" he gave Pansy an indulgent look,
then returned staring at Draco. "And you wonder why she would suddenly want to sleep with
him?"

A feeling of regret and bitterness pervaded the blond.

"You forget she's a Gryffindor," Pansy interrupted him. "They don't know how to hold a
grudge like we do, they forget very quickly."

"That's absolutely ridiculous," protested Theodore.

"Do you think so? Look," the girl pointed behind her. All three of the Slytherins turned
around and saw Hermione gather her own books and wave goodbye to the other Gryffindors,
heading out of the Great Hall along with Blaise.

From the opposite side of the great hall, all of the Gryffindors gave odd and curious looks to
the Slytherin as he approached. The general curiosity increased even more when they saw
that he was headed towards the new head girl.

Blaise cleared his throat. "Hermione?" he called.

The girl turned around, standing up. "Zabini…"

She felt the eyes of the members of all four houses on her.

"Professor Slughorn told me that during this semesters classes we will be working in couples
to produce a potion and its antidote." The girl nodded, but did not utter a word. She felt
somehow enchanted by him.

"I was thinking," the boy continued, "that we could work together. You're the best in potions,
and I think we'll make a great team" he pulled a sheet of parchment out of his bag and handed
it to her. "I made a list of different potions, with their respective antidotes, that we could work
on." The girl began to read the list. "You don't have to say yes, of course, if you're not
interested." The boy smiled at her. "Would you like to discuss it on the way to class?"

So it happened: Hermione Granger left the great hall in the company of Blaise Zabini,
heading for the potions room, under the incredulous eyes of the students and even a few
professors.

Clearly there was a lot of work to be done about inter-houses unity and breaking down
prejudices. But this was a step in the right direction, the girl thought, as she discussed one of
her favorite subjects with the Slytherin.
She knew Zabini did well in potions. Not as well as Malfoy, a part of herself reminded her.
Still, his suggestions were interesting and, may Godric forgive her for that thought, he would
certainly be a better companion than those she had had in the past (which in turn included
Harry, Ron, and Neville).

Draco left the Great Hall shortly after the two. Not that he was following them, of course. He
was supposed to be attending potions class that morning as well, and it was certainly not his
intention to risk being late. He watched from a distance as his friend held the classroom door
opened for her.

Seriously, Zabini?

He spent the entire class watching the two interact as his blood boiled more and more with
every passing second.
He didn't trust Blaise, even though he was his friend.
For some reason he couldn't explain, he felt responsible for Hermione, for her safety. He had
seen her in pain, crying for help on the floor of his house.
That image had haunted his nightmares all summer, only recently replaced by other less scary
dreams in which she was still the main character.

"Malfoy? So what do you say, do you agree?" The boy sitting next to him, Anthony
Goldstein, hadn't stopped talking for a moment since Professor Slughorn had ordered them to
pair up and choose the potions they were going to work on for the next three weeks.

"On what?" he asked.

"The potion," huffed the Ravenclaw. "Are you okay with the confusing concoction?"

"No," Draco decided immediately. "We'll prepare the veritaserum."

The two heads of the school were later separated for the DADA lesson.
The Slytherins attended class with the Ravenclaws.

Although not having Hermione constantly in his sight, or under his nostrils, gave him a
strange sense of emptiness, he was relieved to have her out of Blaise's clutches.

When the lesson was over, the head boy made his way to the classroom where the meeting
with the prefects would to take place.
The closer he got, the more he felt her presence. He could sense it.

Several boys, surely other prefects, were walking in the same direction as him.
He heard some of them whisper behind him and slowed his pace, suddenly intrigued by the
topic of conversation.

"So she broke up with Weasley, is that official?" He recognized the voice. It was the
Ravenclaw boy he was supposed to be working with for potions class.
"So I heard," replied someone else who he didn't recognize. "So you're going to ask her out?
You never liked her."

"I did" the boy retorted scurvy. "And I like her now, might as well try."

With a knot in his stomach, Draco walked into the small classroom ready for the meeting.
Most of the time the speaker was Hermione, who laid out for the boys the rosters for their
evening patrols and explained, with a damned exciting authority, that each prefect would be
paired with a prefect from another house and no exchanges were allowed.

When the meeting ended the two heads waited for the room to empty.

Slaloming through the other prefects, Ernie McMillan approached the table where Draco and
Hermione sat next to each other. He looked first at Draco, then focused his gaze on the girl.
His pupils dilated, a detail that caught the Slytherin's attention.

"Hermione, can I talk to you?" he said, bringing a hand to his shirt collar. "I'd like to ask you
something."

"Of course," nodded the girl, who stood up but did not move away from her chair.

The young Hufflepuff continued to glare at Draco, who glared back. He wasn't going to move
away from his seat unless Hermione asked him to. He rejoiced internally when it became
clear that the girl had no intention of doing so.

Resigned to the idea that Draco would remain within earshot, Ernie continued. "I was
wondering if you'd like to come with me to Hogsmade this weekend."

The blond restrained himself from slamming his fist against the table. What the hell was
going on with the boys at Hogwarts? First Blaise, then Antonhy, and now even this one?

Why was everyone suddenly interested in Hermione?

Should he add himself to the list?

He stood up violently from his chair and walked out of the classroom before he heard the
girl's answer. He was nervous and agitated.

A strange and absurd idea was beginning to form in his mind. He had to talk to Pansy.

He ran to the great hall and then to the usual table where the girl sat with Theo.

How was he going to get the information he wanted without arousing suspicion?
Screw it, he was just going to ask.

He sat across from the two, interrupting their conversation. "Where's Blaise?" he asked.

"We don't know," the two replied almost in unison, not understanding why they were being
asked that question.

Draco turned to Pansy again. "He's an Alpha too, isn't he?"

The girl looked around in shock, making sure no one had heard him.
This was hardly a conversation to be shouted within the walls of the school.

"What do you care?" laughed the girl. "Did you think you'd be the only one here at school?"

Draco tried to release the tension his stiff posture conveyed and struggled to assume a relaxed
expression. "Just curious," he replied. "Who else is at Hogwarts that you know of?"

The girl replied in an annoyed tone. "Besides you and Zabini also Goldstein, the prefect of
Ravenclaw."

"Anyone else?" tried to press Draco.

Pansy huffed. He had obviously interrupted an important conversation between her and Theo,
but he didn't care. "I don't remember, Draco, can you explain why you're asking…"

"McMillan?" the young man asked again, interrupting her.

Pansy seemed to think about it for a few seconds. "Hmm yes, him too, or at least that's what
his mother told mine."

She looked at Theo. "An Hufflepuff alpha, isn't that a bit of an oxymoron?" The boy at her
side laughed.

Draco's heart skipped a beat.

The various pieces of the puzzle were starting to fit together in his mind, giving him a clear
picture of what was right under his nose.

Granger was an omega.

 Chapter 7

7.

Granger was an omega.

Now that he knew this, many things began to make sense, while new questions formed in his
mind.

The first, and perhaps most logical, was how this could be possible. As far as he knew, an
omega was a very rare thing even among families of the purest blood. The manifestation was
due to a recessive trait that was unlikely to occur.
There were those who claimed that it was even disappearing completely.
Hermione had muggle origin: how could that character manifest in her?
Or maybe, he thought, she had some magical ancestry. Maybe there had been wizards in her
family and her parents or grandparents are squibbles.

Leaving aside the genetic issue, however, there was something else about this new discovery
that made him nervous.
Hermione was in danger. Several alphas in the school had already set their eyes on her. He
himself could hardly restrain his instinct in front of her.
But as much as he trusted his own self-control, he highly doubted the other boys had the
strength to restrain themselves.

It was clear that her manifestation was not complete, and yet her scent was already so strong
and the changes in her body so marked.
Probably no one had noticed her transformation yet, not even herself, but the moment she
goes into heat everyone will known, at least every alpha in the school. She will be in
tremendous danger.

He should tell someone about this, maybe Hermione, or even McGonagall.

The other boys could become violent and attack her if they find out, maybe even in group.
The thought made his stomach twist.

However after only a few seconds he changed his mind about talking to the headmistress.
Maybe McGonagall wouldn't understand or, even worse, she would take Hermione away
from him.
She would hide her from him as well, and suddenly he felt that being away from her was not
an option he was willing to accept.

He would protect her by himself. They were sharing a dormitory: he would get used to her
scent and, unlike the other guys, he had occlumency on his side. It would help him restrain
his instincts.

He sat on one of the two large couches in front of the fireplace in his new common room.
It was ten minutes after the curfew and Hermione still hadn't returned, which was normal for
a headgirl, but not if that headgirl was Hermione Granger.
His foot began to tap nervously against the floor, reflecting the anxiety that was slowly
growing in his chest. What if she was in danger? What if someone else had noticed her
omega status and had attacked her? Maybe they'd bite her, sinking their teeth into her glands
and marking her forever.
At the thought he sprang to his feet and reached the dormitory door in two wide, quick
strides.

Just at the same instant the door opened: Hermione was back.

The Slytherin took a step back, moving away from her. "Where have you been?" he asked,
more aggressively than he would have liked.

The girl squinted her eyes. "I was doing my evening rounds," she crossed her arms on her
chest. "Why?"

Draco swallowed. Good question. Why? Why did he care? He didn't know, and he had
neither the time nor the patience at the moment to ask himself that question.
"Who were you with?" he asked, in a less confident tone this time.

"Anthony Goldstein."

Instinctively the boy took a step forward, toward her. "Are you all right?"

Hermione, though surprised by this unexpected reaction, remained motionless in front of his
sudden jerk in her direction. Something inside her prevented her from moving, craving his
closeness.

Draco instinctively raised his hand, bringing it close to her cheek. He wanted to caress that
smooth, pink skin, tasting and savoring every inch of it.
But his self-control, fortunately, had the better of him, making him withdraw his hand just in
time.

Hermione regained her lucidity. "Yeah, I'm fine," she replied uncertainly.

Draco didn't answer. He simply stood still and looked at her.

Hermione felt her embarrassment and discomfort for this absurd situation grow more and
more.
"Good night," she said, heading to her room. She already had one hand on the doorknob
when the young man called her again.

"Granger, wait" her brown eyes were now on him and Draco mentally cursed.
What the hell was he doing?
Well, now he had started so he might as well go all the way and get it over with. "I was
wondering…" he continued, "it's your birthday in a few days, isn't it?"

The girl was silent for a few seconds, bewildered by the strange question. Since when did
Draco Malfoy care about her birthday?
Strange things had been happening lately.
"Um, yeah," she finally replied, wanting more and more to vanish behind the door of her
room. Receiving attention from the blond was causing unpleasant and inappropriate things to
her body.

"What day, precisely?" quickly replied the Slytherin.

"The nineteenth," the girl answered, before even wondering within herself why the hell did
he care. She waited a few more seconds, her hand still steady on the handle. When it was
clear that the young man had nothing more to say , she stepped into her room, finally closing
the door behind her.

The next morning Draco waited for Hermione to leave the dormitory, following her into the
Great Hall a few moments later.

He took his usual seat with the rest of the Slytherins.

Theo and Pansy were chatting animatedly, while Blaise was engrossed in reading and didn't
even notice when Draco joined the table.

"What's he reading?" he asked Pansy, aware that the girl would certainly have the answer,
while the dark-haired boy continued to ignore them all.

"A Muggle book, he wants to impress the mudb…" The girl was silenced by an elbow from
Theo. She huffed. "Granger," she corrected herself.

Theo tapped Blaise's shoulder, finally making him lift his head from the book. "Yeah man,
when are you going to ask her out?"

Draco clenched his fists under the table.

"I don't know," Zabini replied with a raise of his eyebrows. "Maybe this weekend."

Draco couldn't hold his tongue. "You're too late." As much as it bothered him that Hermione
was going to Hogsmeade with Ernie McMillan, the Hufflepuff was a non-existent threat
compared to Blaise.

All three of his friends were now watching him closely. Theo and Pansy, particularly the
latter, stared at him with the air of someone hungry for gossip.

Blaise's look, however, suggested something else and the blond feared he had made a false
step. If the boy starts to feel jealousy towards Hermione, perhaps, he would notice her omega
status.

He had until September 19 to get them all away from her. He swallowed and continued.
"McMillan already invited her yesterday during the prefects' meeting."

Zabini's expression was indecipherable, and Draco hoped with all his heart that he wouldn't
start asking questions, or worse, feel the same sense of jealousy he felt.
Fortunately, the blonde didn't catch any signs of agitation in his companion.
They had no lessons in common with the Gryffindor that morning.
As the hours passed her distance made him more and more nervous. As soon as classes were
over, he quickly left his friends and headed to where he knew he would surely find her: the
library.

His hunch was correct, Hermione was sitting at one of the large tables in the back, with a tall
stack of texts in front of her.

He would have preferred to go unnoticed, but the girl seemed to sense his presence.
Although her back was on the main door, she turned in his direction. The young man
suddenly pretended to be interested in a random volume on the nearest shelf. He grabbed it
and sat down at a vacant table, several rows back from where she sat.

He flipped through page after page, not even paying attention to the words on it. Her scent
was intoxicating, and as much as it destabilized him, not smelling it was worse.

From the moment Draco walked through the library doors, for Hermione it became
impossible to concentrate.

She smelled him as soon as he walked in. She kept telling herself that the reason she
recognized him so well was because they lived together, but had it been like that with
everyone he'd ever lived with?
The answer was no.
She and Harry had shared the small space inside a tent for months, yet she couldn't recognize
his scent from yards away.

In addition to the blond man's scent, she was also distracted by the constant feeling of being
watched.
Whenever he was present she felt it: she could feel his gaze on her.

She often thought she imagined it, but every time she turned around she met his eyes. It was a
feeling she felt almost constantly: in class, in the great hall and even in the quiet of their
common room.

After a couple of days into the new year she started to think she was hallucinating or
developing a strange persecution mania.

She tried to rationalize: it was normal for her to run into him everywhere. They were in the
same year, took the same classes, plus they shared the same dormitory. He wasn't following
her, they simply often headed in the same direction.
Yet there was something odd about it, something her bright brain couldn't explain. The
feeling of being constantly watched did not leave her even when she retreated behind the
door to her room.
The young man was a constant presence, not just physically. Apart from seeing him, hearing
him and smelling him there was more.

It wasn't just that she felt physically attracted to him. She felt a similar attraction toward other
objectively handsome boys, especially Blaise.
After all she was a grown girl, and she hadn't fully explored her sexuality yet.
Hiding into the woods and constantly being under the menace of a genocidal- dark Lord
wasn't exactly a turn on.
It was totally normal that her hormones exploded oll of a sudden when the physical and
psychological stress of the war was over, wasn't it?
But with Draco? she felt there was something else.

Beyond the physical, beyond the attraction.

What it was, however, she couldn't tell.

For Draco the days following his shocking discovery were exhausting. The closer the 19
September came, the more his anxiety grew.

He had taken with him all the volumes on the subject that were in the library, studying what
would happen once Hermione came into heat.
He would not be caught unprepared: he would train himself to resist. He was going to control
his impulses so that he would be able to recognize those of the other alphas.

He owed it to her.
That's what he kept telling himself to justify his manic apprehension. He had already let her
suffer once under his eyes without doing anything. He wasn't going to let it happen again.

September 9, 1998

The day of the Hogsmeade weekend had come.

Draco got up that morning terribly agitated. He tried to keep calm by reminding himself that
McMillan was the alpha who represented the least threat to Hermione.

He didn't know how he could be so convinced. Intuition, instinct, or maybe just the fact that
no Hufflepuff would ever intentionally hurt another living thing, especially a girl.

However he would follow them cautiously and from a certain distance, just to be sure nothing
bad happens to her.

Hermione got up early and went to the Great Hall for breakfast. With one hand she held her
toast, while with the other she made a list of the items she would have to buy that day.

She hadn't thought too much about Ernie's request to accompany her to Hogsmeade. It wasn't
a date, she thought.
Maybe he wanted to talk privately to ask her for a head-girl favor. Probably something like
that.

As the first groups of boys began to leave the great hall, heading to the courtyard, she
gathered her things and stood up.

She found the young Hufflepuff waiting for her outside. They greeted each other and began
to walk down the path to the village.
They talked about the few classes they had in common, mainly defense against the dark arts,
which was one of the boy's favorite subjects since his days in Dumbledore's army.

They talked and laughed about past times, avoiding dwelling on the darker days of the war.
Hermione however noticed that McMillan seemed agitated at times. He kept nervously
running his hands through his hair and spasmodically adjusting his shirt collar.

They reached what was the first stop on the girl's list, a small bookstore sparsely frequented
by the rest of the students. She had to buy some new parchments and some notebooks, and
maybe, if she had any money left over, some new writing feathers.

Ernie walked in after her, escorting her through the shelves. She wasn't bothered by his
presence, but she wished he'd stayed farther away.

After collecting what she needed, she stopped in front of the shelf where several writing
feathers were displayed. They were wonderful.
She looked at the price and her expression changed. She couldn't afford them.
She then turned to the boy at her
side.

"I'm done," she said, heading toward the register. "Do you need to get something?"

The boy seemed initially bewildered. He kept looking toward the back of the store. "Yes
actually," he finally stated, grabbing one of the feathers Hermione had been looking at just
moments before. He walked past her, heading to the checkout as the girl tried to figure out
what had caught his eye in the back.

"Hermione," Ernie called her, putting a hand on her shoulder and dragging her towards the
exit.
Before she knew it she had a small package in her hand.

"For you".

She was immensely uncomfortable and embarrassed. She didn't like being given gifts,
particularly this way.

For this reason, to repay the boy, she insisted on offering him a round of butterbeer at the
three broomsticks.
Time passed quickly and between a chat and a laugh what should have been a round of
butterbeer became three. They got up some time later, slightly intoxicated by the alcohol and
the laughter. Much to Hermione's surprise she discovered that McMillan was a more pleasant
company than she had ever imagined.

Walking side by side once they left the pub, she didn't notice where her feet were taking her
until she found herself in a secluded corner behind a closed store, her back against the wall
and the young man's body towering over her.

There was something wrong with this.

Her mind knew it, but her body didn't seem to understand it.
She felt as if she was watching the scene from an outside perspective: her brain no longer had
control over her body.

"Hermione," the boy called to her, reaching out a hand and caressing her face.
His voice was different; she didn't recognize it.

She wanted to move, to shrug, but her body wasn't responding to commands.

The boy moved closer to her again. She could feel his breaths brush against her forehead. He
was going to kiss her.

"No," she managed to say feebly. The young man ignored her.

"No," she repeated, her tone slightly higher.

She felt her muscles twitch from the effort.

A scream should have come out of her mouth, not that feeble protest.

The boy still didn't stop.

She closed her eyes shut.

Her body prepared for the kiss while her mind kept screaming No.

Suddenly she felt the heat in front of her disappear. She opened her eyes and the young man
was no longer there.

She turned around: McMillan was lying on the ground, straddled by Draco Malfoy. She had
to blink several times to make sure she wasn't hallucinating that sight.

Had Draco attacked Ernie?

She came to her senses when she saw the Hufflepuff pull out his wand.

The blond didn't give him time to cast a spell, grabbing it and snapping it in two.

"Malfoooy" she yelled, as several people rushed to the scene and separated the two boys.

"You assaulted a student and broke his wand, Mr. Malfoy."

Mcgonagall's gaze dripped with fury and contempt.

"I'll pay it back," he interrupted her, keeping his gaze fixed on the floor. He didn't know what
had gotten into him that afternoon, but he hadn't been able to contain himself.

Stupid McMillan. Now the headmistress was going to strip him of his headboy role and
would have to stay away from her.

"That's not the point," railed the old principal. She took a deep breath and seemed to calm
down. "You'll get off with a simple punishment for now. You're lucky that Mr. McMillan
didn't want to summon his parents, otherwise I would have had to call Narcissa. Don't make
any more missteps."

With the principal's lecture over, he walked back to his dormitory, confused but also relieved
that he hadn't lost his headboy position.

The idea that another boy would take his place, living in close contact with the Gryffindor,
was simply intolerable by now.

As soon as he uttered the secret word and the huge door of the dormitory closed behind him
he was suddenly assaulted by six feet of pure fury.

Hermione's small hands pushed him backwards and his back hit the wall. He inhaled deeply.

Hold on Draco. You can do it.

She was too close. She wasn't supposed to touch him, she was supposed to stay away from
him.
Why was she moving closer?

"What is wrong with you?" the girl screamed. Her hands touched his chest again, but this
time the young man did not falter. She was so close he could hear her breathing.

He remained silent.

"You're following me, aren't you?" asked the Gryffindor. Her gaze was so furious he suddenly
had a flashback from a few years ago. He remembered her fury during his third year. She had
looked at him with the exact same expression. And she has been gorgeous.

"Answer me. I need to know, Draco" yelled the girl in front of him.

His name on her lips… He couldn't do it.

"Stop touching me, Granger," he said through clenched teeth, straining not to look her in the
eye.
He took a step forward, looking for an escape route.

And in that moment Hermione heard it: the voice inside her head that had rebelled against
Ernie's proximity now craved that of the boy in front of her.
Draco… Draco…

Without realizing it, she brought her body against his.

The Slytherin's powerful arms immediately tightened around her waist, like an automatic
reflex.

Yes…

The girl brought her lips to his and something inside her exploded. She could no longer
perceive her own thoughts.
Only a voice in her head.

Yes
Alpha
 Chapter 8
Chapter Notes

Thanks to everyone reading, leaving kudos and commenting. I'm always excited to read
your opinions on the story. ❤

This is my least favorite chapter. For long i wanted to erase it, but I couldn't without
messing the whole story. Hope you'll enjoy it.

Alpha

She felt as if every cell in her system was on fire. She had never felt so excited and alive
before.

At that moment Hermione Granger, one of the brightest minds to ever walk the halls of
Hogwarts, was gone. In her place only a body, a collection of flesh, nerves and hormones.
The feel of the young man's arms around her waist, her breasts against his chest,
the contrast between her soft body and his rigid muscles, the way his powerful figure towered
over her.

His chest engulfed her, enveloping her small frame.

And in that moment, when their lips met, she felt like she was in the safest place in the
world.

"Hermione."

Alpha

She couldn't think of anything else. That voice in her mind that she had silenced for weeks
was now screaming mightily.
Now it was Hermione Granger who was silent, something else had taken hold of her.

Alpha

"Hermione, please," the young man's words were a whisper on her lips, lost between their
tongues exploring each others.

Draco's hands caressed her hips, moving up on her back, enveloping every inch of her small
figure.

Alpha

The girl's hands rested firmly against his chest.

"Tell me to stop, Hermione."

There was something odd about it. Those words sounded like an order.

Hermione drew back, and as he looked into her face, Draco could see in her eyes the exact
moment she regained her lucidity and realized what she had done.
Of course she was disgusted, he understood it.
Why on earth would she kiss the man who had bullied her for years? A former Death Eater
like him?

"I'm sorry," the girl exclaimed, bringing a hand to her lips and running to her room.

Once she closed the door behind her, away from the Slytherin's eyes, Hermione threw herself
on the floor, panting and hot.
She had never felt so aroused in her whole life.

What did she have to kiss Draco of all people?

When she pulled away from him she thought she could have died of shame.

He looked disgusted.
She suddenly had a flashback, dating back to their fifth year.
She remembered when their fingers almost touched and he warned her to keep her filthy,
mudbloods hands off him.

Who knows how he would feel now.

Would he go into the bathroom and throw up, or would he wash and rewash his lips until they
started to crack?

Hermione rubbed her temples.

Why did he have to have this effect on her?
Why was her body reacting to Draco Malfoy like this?
She was dying to slide her hands down on her throbbing clit, imagining the blond man's lips
instead of her fingers, but she held back.
It was wrong: she needed to get over this lust, not feed it.

At that moment she made a decision.

There was a boy who had piqued her curiosity that year and who seemed to be just as
interested in her.
Why not?
She would give him a chance, just for fun. It wasn't like her, but she decided that Blaise
Zabini would be her exception to the rule. A pleasant distraction.

The next day Hermione realized that, indeed, Zabini's advances were rather obvious.

However she had to admit that he had a way with words: he was able to flirt with her without
ever being vulgar, intrusive or making her uncomfortable.
She found that receiving that kind of attention did not displease her at all, on the contrary she
found it pleasant.

The boy was smart, intelligent and sarcastic as well as attractive. This could work.

That morning's potions lesson for a certain Slytherin was more than stimulating, while for
another it was an absolute nightmare.

Draco felt an irrational and animalistic sense of jealousy as he noticed that, unlike the past
few days, Hermione seemed to respond to Blaise's advances.

The two were clearly flirting, no less than the day after their kiss, in front of the eyes of the
entire class. Why did he seem to be the only one who noticed? It was so blatant.

Why Blaise, of all people? Maybe the Gryffindor was sending him a message: it was a way
of letting him know that any Slytherin was fine for her, as long as it wasn't him.

For the briefest of seconds, when their lips had met the night before, he'd made the mistake of
thinking that maybe she didn't care about his name, about war, about blood, about prejudice.

But of course it had been a very trivial mistake. It was obvious that she preferred Blaise.
After all, it wasn't like she'd been tortured in Blaise's house. It hadn't been Blaise's aunt who
had permanently injured her. It hadn't been Blaise who had watched the scene without
blinking an eye. It made sense that Blaise deserved her attention, even her trust.
Blaise, not him.
Not Draco Malfoy.

He was so nervous that he didn't realize he had literally butchered the asphodel root in front
of him. He only realized this when he was brought back to reality by the unbearable whine of
his potions partner, Antonhy Goldstein.

"What is wrong with you?" blurted the Ravenclaw, abruptly pushing him away from his
cutting board. "It can't be added in this condition. We'll have to replant it all over again, we've
lost a day's work."

The universe was literally testing his patience.

Now Zabini was no longer the only person in the room he would gladly punch.

With the lecture over, Blaise escorted Hermione to the Great Hall.

"So," the boy pressed. "Before your head-girl's sense of duty gets the better of you, promise
me that you will listen to my proposal without prejudice."

The girl raised her eyebrows, suddenly curious. "Which is?"

"Party, tomorrow night, in the Slytherin common room," the boy interrupted his walk. "Let
me finish. Of course we'll finish by midnight, and students from all houses will be present."
He looked into her eyes with a bright smile on his lips. "It will be a great opportunity to foster
unity between houses, you would set a good example as a school leader by participating."

The girl laughed, partly at his insistence, partly because she found his speech convincing. She
didn't know if it was because of his smile, or his confident tone of voice, or something else
entirely.

"And then, Granger" Zabini continued, "grant me the honor of making you the first
Gryffindor to set foot in the Slytherin common room."

"Sorry to spoil your plans, Zabini," she laughed, smiling mischievously at him. "I wouldn't be
the first at all."

They entered the great hall laughing and joking. Draco couldn't help but notice, sitting across
from Theo and Pansy, the way the two of them parted from each other: Zabini wrapped his
hand around her waist and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

An intimate gesture, too intimate.

He felt sick to his stomach and couldn't bring himself to look his friend in the face when,
with an annoyingly smug grin, he joined them at the table.

"So," Pansy urged him, looking thirsty for gossip, "how did it go?"

"She'll come," replied the Zabini proudly.

"I knew it" exulted Theo. "Pansy, you owe me ten galleons."

"Can someone tell me what you're talking about?" blurted Draco.

As usual, the only one to offer him an explanation was Pansy. "Blaise invited Granger to the
party tomorrow night in the common room, and apparently the insufferable queen of justice is
coming," she concluded the last sentence with a grimace.

"And why wasn't I invited?" protested the blond, trying not to focus on the fact that
Hermione was going to the party with Blaise.

"Oh come on, of course you were coming" asserted the girl.

Without paying any more attention to her, Draco focused on Blaise, trying to get more
informations about what the boy knew. He needed to look relaxed and casual, however his
posture betrayed him.
"So, Zabini, what are your intentions with Granger?"

The boy looked at him with an air of indifference, grabbing a bite of what was on his plate.
"What do you care?"

Why was everyone harping on this question lately?

He tried to release the tension in his shoulders. "Well you know, we share a dorm, I'd like to
know in advance if I need to silence my room to avoid hearing you yelling."
"Oh" smiled the dark-haired boy. "I must say I hadn't thought about her private room."

"Of course not," Theo interjected. "He preferred to evict four poor, innocent boys from their
bedroom for his night of passion with Granger."

"As if the miss-knowitall would let herself go between the sheets of the first one who passes
by," insisted Pansy.

The blond seized the opportunity. "I agree, you're just wasting your time, you should let it go,
she's a frigid."

He received a shrug of the as an answer. "We'll see about that."

The 24 hours after that conversation were characterized by a perennial anxiety for Draco
Malfoy. He wasn't supposed to care what Hermione decided to do or not do with Blaise. It
was none of his business.

Why did he feel responsible for her?

Unfortunately, he had an answer to that question. A pretty valid one.
What if after sleeping with her the boy realizes she is an omega? What if he realizes it before
Hermione herself? What would that mean for her?
All he could think of were gruesome scenarios.

Maybe he'd been an idiot. It would have been appropriate to at least talk to Hermione about
his suspicions. Or rather, his discovery. But what was he supposed to tell her?

-You know, Granger, I don't think you should sleep with Blaise. Why, you say? Oh, because
you're an omega. How do I know? Because I want to jump on you every second of every day
and I can smell you from 500m away, no big deal-.

In the best of the hypothesis, she will think he's mocking her and wouldn't listen to him.
At worst, she would take him for a maniac and ask to be moved back to the Gryffondor
tower.

Besides, he was starting to have the strange feeling that after their kiss Hermione was doing
anything in her power to avoid him.

That feeling, in fact, revealed to be exactly right.

Hermione was motivated to get rid of any sort of lustful thoughts she has had about the
blonde.
That was why she had gladly accepted Blaise's invitation. As much as it was technically
against the rules to hold a party in the common room, he had promised that it would be over
by curfew, plus it would be a chance to mix students from different houses.

Perhaps a new Hogwarts tradition would be born: all common rooms would be open to all
students from time to time, to create a more free and open environment.
When the time for the party finally arrived she could say she felt satisfied.
She had managed to avoid Draco even in the quiet of their dormitory.

Shortly after the end of dinner she met with Zabini outside the great hall. She felt strangely
high and excited, partly reflecting the general mood of almost all sixth and seventh year
students.
The Slytherins' organization was impeccable. Before she could even mention it to her friends,
she discovered that Ginny, Luna, Neville, and Seamus had already been invited. She had
never expected such enthusiasm for the party from her own housemates, but evidently after
the war things were beginning to change.

Pretentiously and gallantly, the boy held out his arm to her. "Allow me to escort you."

They headed into the dungeon and accessed the room through a secret passage in the wall.
The Slytherin common room was simply amazing and teeming with people. Students from
every house were dancing and chatting with each other. Several Muggle records and vinyls
had been enchanted to produce music, which pleasantly amazed her.

"So," the boy leaned closer to her ear to be heard above the loud noise. "Do you like the
music?" he asked her as he slid a glass of something she recognized as firewhiskey into her
hands.

"Did you do that?" she had to admit, she was impressed. "What spell did you use?"

The Slytherin's lips moved even closer to her ear, so close that she could feel his breath on
her neck.
"If I tell you this secret, Hermione," she shuddered at the sound of her name, "you'll have to
tell me one too."

She stood still and speechless, as if paralyzed by an external force. She was brought back to
reality when the feeling of warmth from the boy's body vanished.

The young man suddenly appeared in front of her. He smiled at her, grabbing her hand and
dragging her to the center of the room. She took a large sip from her glass in an attempt to
calm her suddenly frayed nerves.

When they finally took a seat on one of the many couches that had been set up in the center
of the room she recognized several people. Ginny and Luna were chatting with some boys
from Ravenclaws, Neville Longbottom was conversating with Theo Nott and finally, in a far
corner, she caught the unmistakable silver halo of the headboy's hair.

She downed another gulp, trying to focus only on her friends and the boy who had
accompanied her.

A little further away, Draco was in a cold sweat. He had just learned from Pansy about the
devious plan Blaise had orchestrated to get himself alone with Hermione.

"That's ridiculous, Pansy," he tried to reason with her.

"Oh, you're wrong," she said, bringing her glass to her lips, "it's going to be endlessly
entertaining."

The girl didn't give him time to respond, hurrying to the center of the room. When she was
sure she had attracted the attention of everyone present, she spoke. "I propose we play a
game," she raised her glass, scanning everyone in the room. "Truth or Dare."

Hermione downed the last remaining sip in her glass, noticing how Blaise refilled it again a
moment later. Part of her was amused by the unusual situation they had all found themselves
in, but an alarm bell kept ringing in her brain.
She decided to silence it.

"So," said Pansy, sitting down on the arm of the couch next to Theodore and Neville, "let's
start clockwise, shall we?" Those present nodded.

"So, Nott, truth or dare?"

"Dare."

Pansy grabbed the bottle of incendiary whiskey from the table, filling the boy's glass to the
brim. "I dare you to drink it all at once." Those present responded with a cry of surprise.

"Longbottom?" resumed Pansy after Theo concluded his obligation with a resounding belch
accompanied by applause. She seemed almost in a hurry, and a mischievous smile was
printed on her lips.

"Truth."

The girl seemed to think about it for a few seconds. "Tell us who is the person in this room
you would like to sleep with."

The Gryffindor turned red and remained silent, finishing his drink.

"Would you prefer an obligation?" tempted the Slytherin, widening her mischievous smile.

"Luna Lovegood," he replied quickly, grabbing the bottle on the table and refilling his glass.

When the voices and the laughs seemed to calm down the girl resumed her round. "Zabini,
truth or dare?"

"Dare" the young man answered with conviction.

"I oblige you to spend the next thirty minutes in a dark and silent room" silence fell among
those present, uncertain about the strange obligation.

The boy got up, looked at Pansy with an air of understanding, grabbed the half-empty bottle
from the table and went towards the stairs of the dormitory, departing from everyone with a
theatrical bow.
When he disappeared behind the door the tour resumed.
"Granger"

The tone with which Pansy called her made her jerk.

"Truth," she replied promptly. The alarm bell in her brain rang again.

"Why did you and Weasley break up?"

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She saw Ginny grow tense on the couch and everyone hold
their breath, eager for her answer.
"Dare" She suddenly replied, her cheeks turning red.

Pansy grimaced, wearing a bored and annoyed look. "Are you sure?"
Hermione nodded. "All right, then… Same as Blaise," she concluded.

Uncertain and relieved of not having to answer the question she had been asked, she got up
and headed towards the first room at the top of the stairs where the boy had disappeared.

When she found him, Zabini was downing the bottle he had brought with him, leaning
against the window in the faint light of a candle.

"Dare?" he asked her as soon as he saw her enter. He handed her the bottle.

"Yeah," she affirmed, taking a sip. She leaned on the window next to him.

"Believe me, she's going to send a lot of people in here. She has a weird way to play this
game" laughed the boy. "She thinks people will spill their secrets more freely if there are less
ears around".

Hermione raised her eyebrows, how slytherin from Pansy. "And does it work?"

"Yes, at least until she's the only one left to play."

They laughed together for a few seconds, until their lips were inches apart.

Hermione looked at his face. She wanted to do this. She had planned to. But know that it was
happening, she felt there was something wrong.

The boy didn't move, keeping an inch of room between their lips as their breaths mingled.
Hermione appreciated his anticipation and hesitation.

Let yourself go Herm, she told herself.

She kissed him. It was normal, pleasant. But that voice inside her, which she had hoped to
have silenced with alcohol, kept screaming that something was wrong.

Screw it, she couldn't stand it anymore.

She deepened the kiss, causing their tongues to collide and intertwine. Blaise brought his
hands to her sides.

No
Screamed the voice inside her head.
She continued.
No.
She brought her hands to the boy's chest.

He is not your alpha.

Something inside her screamed again, with such a strength that she had to pull back.

What had gotten into her? What the hell did alpha mean?
She knew she'd heard it before, yet couldn't remember when or where.

"I'm sorry…" she murmured, pulling away.

The boy grabbed her by the arm. She felt her heart beating fast. She tried to pull back. "I'd
better go," she said.

The young man's grip did not waver.

"Blaise," she called to him, in an increasingly frightened tone.

The boy seemed to come back to reality. He immediately released his grip. "Sorry… I…"
He didn't have time to finish his sentence.

Hermione ran out the dormitory door and down the stairs, crossing the Common Room as
fast as she could, while the eyes of everyone settled on her.

When she was in the hallway she continued to run, not knowing what her destination was.

At the sight of Hermione's frightened face Draco was seized by an uncontrollable instinct to
run after her. He jumped up immediately.

"What are you doing?" asked Theo.

"The party is over," he asserted decisively. He pulled out his wand and made the music stop.
He shouted again, to the attention of everyone present this time. "The party is over. You have
ten minutes to return to your dormitories." There was a confused whispering as the students
gathered their belongings and got ready to leave.

He was furious. Had Blaise done something to her?

He would think about him later.

All he cared about now was her.
He had to find her.
He followed her scent until, step by step, it brought him to the point he feared most in the
whole castle: the astronomy tower.

He found her in a corner, looking out of the large window. She was crying.

She must have sensed his presence because she suddenly turned toward him.

"What do you want?" she asked.

The young man bit his tongue, straining not to say anything stupid. "Did he hurt you? Did he
do something to you?"

"What do you care?" In the silver reflection of the moon that lit the room he could see her
bright eyes.
He wished he could caress her until her sadness was gone and instinctively took a step toward
her.

"Don't come any closer," the girl suddenly said. "Please."

The Slytherin froze, backing away a step. He didn't know what to say, it killed him to see her
like this, but he was also relieved that Blaise hadn't hurt her.

"I think there's something wrong with me." The girl's words were spoken in such a low tone
of voice that he barely perceived them, she seemed to be speaking mostly to herself. She
wiped away a tear with her hand and took a deep breath.
After that she looked up into his face. "We should get back downstairs, make sure everyone is
back in their dorms, it's almost curfew time-"

"Already done," he quickly interrupted her.

Hermione smiled and he swore he could feel his own chest crack in two. That smile had a
strange, powerful effect on him.

"Good," she finally recomposed herself. "I'd just like to go to sleep now."

They walked to the dormitory together, in silence. Once inside, they looked at each other
shyly for a few seconds. She was the one who broke eye contact first.

"Good night, Malfoy," she said, heading towards her own room.

He stood motionless, watching her.

"Good night, Granger."

The next day he had a strange awakening. It was early, shortly after dawn. He followed his
normal morning routine, noticing that Hermione had left before him. Much earlier, evidently.

He had been awakened by the disappearance of her scent. She usually never left the dorm this
early.
He dressed and went down to the Great Hall for breakfast. None of his friends were present,
but he was not surprised. Several students were missing from among the various tables, many
of whom had attended last night's party.

He peered at the Gryffindor table. There she was, sitting alone. She hadn't even touched her
breakfast, her head bent over a huge book.
There was something familiar about that big tome, he had seen it somewhere before. He
wished he could peek at what she was reading.

One of the fifth-year prefects approached her, saying something. A moment later the girl put
the big book in her bag and left the table.

She started heading towards the Slytherin table, towards him.

"Malfoy," she spoke without looking at him. "I'm told McGonagall would like to see us."

They reached the headmistress' office with the same mood as someone heading to the
gallows.
She would certainly reprimand them for the previous night's party. They had failed in their
responsibilities.

The real surprise was to discover that they were not the only ones who had been summoned.
Blaise was also in the office.

"Well," said Mcgonagall as she took a seat behind her desk and transfigured three chairs for
the students. "I suppose you know why I have summoned you here. I understand that a party
was held in the dungeon last night" she scrutinized the three one by one. "And I heard that
several students escaped from their dorms to take part in it."

Hermione was sweating coldly, preparing herself for the worst. Was she going to discharge
her as Head Girl?

"My compliments". The elderly witch's words made all three of their heads jump upward.
The woman continued. "I called you here because I believe that last night's episode was an
extraordinarily positive sign for the imprint of unity and cooperation that I want to leave on
this school. All the plans and program I've discussed with the professors for the whole
summer to enforce and normalize students interaction couldn't have reached a better result".

The three continued to have confused expressions, and Draco was developing an headache
trying to understand if McGonagall was just being sarcastic or she really meant what she was
saying.

"I have decided to summon Mr. Zabini as well because I have come to learn that he was the
mastermind behind last night's meticulous organization. This is your task boys, next week
you will organize a ball in the Great Hall."

The first to recover from her disbelief was Hermione.

"Headmistress, there isn't enough time, just one week to do everything…"
"I'm not done," the woman added. "The party will have the Muggle world as its theme."
Hermione tried to retort, but the woman interrupted her again. "Or would you rather be
grounded for the ten or so school rules that were broken during the night?"
Hermione shushed.

This time it was Draco who spoke. "What would be the date for this dance, Headmistress?"
he asked hesitantly.

He had a feeling this whole thing wouldn't end well.

"A week from today. The 19th September".

 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes

I'm really excited for this chapter!

From now on things will get serious!

Thanks to everyone who read, left kudos and commented this!

You make me want to update as fast as I can ❤

-7

The three boys in charge of the organization of the ball weren't happy to find out that the
"Muggle world" theme chosen by McGonagall also applied to the entire set-up of the event.
Two purebloods who couldn't even tie their shoes without magic and a Muggleborn girl who
had been ripped from that world several years ago.

It didn't take them long to realize that this was actually a punishment from the headmistress.

To make the whole thing even more unpleasant and complicated there was the absurd
situation between them: Hermione wasn't comfortable with Blaise after what happened the
previous night, and was determined to avoid Draco as much as possible, frightened by the
absurd reactions of her body to his proximity.

The organization of the ball, besides being a big problem on its own, was also an obstacle to
her research.
The morning after the night at the Slytherin's, she had immediately run to the library to try to
make sense of the word that kept echoing in her mind, alpha.

She had unpleasantly discovered that the books on the subject were scarce at Hogwarts and
that several had already been taken by another student.

Madame Prince did not reveal to Hermione who it was, of course, leaving her with the
question rumbling in her head: who on earth could be interested in that subject? And why?

The girl found herself holding only a large, worn-out tome, who knows how many years old.
Between her commitments as head-girl, the lessons and the organization of the ball,
unfortunately, she had very little time to devote to reading.

She had just the chance to notice the main topic of the text, which made her feel so mortified
and embarrassed that she decided to hide the cover behind a spell, passing the large tome as a
potions' book so that she wouldn't feel uncomfortable reading it in public.
She read about alphas, about their biology, about the fact that it was a trait that manifested
itself in young purebloods from the age of 18.
It made sense that she would notice certain changes in several of the boys at the school: the
fact that they were suddenly taller, more muscular and with a deeper tone of voice had a
biological justification, she hadn't hallucinated it.

The tome also mentioned the change in smell due to pheromones. So far everything seemed
to make sense.
She continued reading, discovering that there were two other categories, beta and omega.
When she finished the chapter she was both disgusted and furious.

Disgusted at the way the omegas had been described and at how such girls were viewed in
the eyes of the magical society. How was it possible that she had never heard of them? It was
rare, certainly, but not too rare. She thought of Molly Weasley. How must she have felt,
completely abandoned to her biology and without any rights or protections?
How was it possible that the girls themselves simply agreed to marry so young and be used as
an oven to give birth to heirs?
And they also called it a "fortune" and an "honor"?

She felt she could throw up.

She had already seen over the years, approaching the magical society, how some extremely
old and bigoted conceptions were still firmly rooted in the mentality of wizards and witches.
But this? It was simply inconceivable.

She would fight for this cause as she had done in the past for what she believed to be right,
even if it meant having to carry on her battle alone. It had never been a problem, after all.

In addition to being disgusted, however, she also felt frustrated and furious: her research still
hadn't answered her original question. It didn't explain the voices in her head and the
unhealthy attraction she felt towards Draco, which was increasing day by day.

What was happening to her? She couldn't figure it out, and the fact that she couldn't find an
answer in the library only added to her frustration.
The book she had chosen probably wasn't right.
It was clearly a rather outdated volume, which she could tell, apart from the worn cover and
yellowed pages, by the author's primitive view of women (which she hoped had been
outdated by the twenty-first century) and by the fact that it only described phenomena
concerning pure-blood wizards and witches.

Half-bloods? Muggle-borns?
Wasn't their biology equally important?

Perhaps she should check the forbidden section, maybe she will find something more
interesting there.
Or she could force Madame Prince to reveal the identity of who had taken the other books on
the subject, hoping that among those there will be some less older ones.
She ruminated and pondered on the topic as the two Slytherins tried in vain to come to terms
with the "set up" problem.

"Okay so we agree on the music? Are we going to use the same one as last night?" asked
Blaise, continuing to take notes with his feather to avoid eye contact. When he got only
silence as an answer he looked up from his scroll. "Or I can get more of those Muggle
things."

Hermione was brought back to reality by the boy's voice. "That should be fine, yes. If not, we
could set up a meeting with the prefects and ask Halfbloods and Muggleborns to have more
sent from home," she replied distractedly, after which she assumed a wrinkled expression.
"Although," she muttered to herself, "we shouldn't use magic, and the vinyls would be
enchanted to produce music," she seemed to ponder this for a few moments. "But even if we
wanted to, we couldn't use a stereo, electricity doesn't work at Hogwarts." When her
monologue ended she noticed that the two boys were staring at her looking more than a little
confused.

"Electri-what?" asked the blond.

Hermione huffed, suddenly more nervous than she already was for reasons that had nothing
to do with the dance. "Godric, this is absurd," she gave the blond a murderous look, "good
thing McGonagall made Muggle studies mandatory for everyone."

Blaise ignored their exchange and continued to scribble nervously. " Alright, the music is
there. The decorations? shouldn't we set up the room somehow?"

The blond brought his hands to his hair. "How do we do that?" he turned his gaze to
Hermione, the only one who would know anything about it.

The girl shrugged.

"How about we leave that task to the elves?" suggested Blaise. " I don't think Mcgonagall
will notice…"

Draco could see the girl's face turn red, her small chest expand and her eyes lighting. God,
she was gorgeous. And he was aroused, again.
He cursed mentally, pushing his own chair further under the table so his erection wouldn't be
noticed.
He'd gotten distracted: he had dropped his occlumency for a moment to admire Hermione's
fury, and here's the consequence.
He made a mental note not to indulge in such a mistake again.

"We will not use the elves," the girl replied animatedly.

Zabini was a dead man, Draco thought to himself.

"Do you think it's fair to exploit slavery to perform a task that was specifically assigned to
us?" She paused for a moment to take a deep breath.
Meanwhile, the blond man clenched his fists under the table to hold back his arousal.
In that instant he realized that, for her, he would free all the house elves in the world.

Salazar, where were such thoughts coming from? His hormones were completely blowing his
mind.

"Well…" faltered Zabini, turning to Draco to try and get some support in the conversation.
"We could ask them nicely…"

"Ask nicely?!" the girl stood up, hastily starting to gather her things. "Sure, let's take
advantage of their natural tendency to say yes to everything," she muttered in a high-pitched
voice as she slung her heavy bag over her shoulder. "What's the big deal, right? It's their
nature after all, they're created to be submissive."

"Hermione…" tried to interrupt Blaise, now unsure if they were talking about the same topic.

"No, you know what Zabini, it's not even your fault," she rolled her eyes between the two.
"It's this whole society that's rotten to the core" she concluded sonorously, heading for the
door and leaving the room.

When she was out of their line of sight, Draco finally let go the smug grin for Zabini's
humiliation that he had been holding back during Hermione's rant.

"What's so funny?" Blaise asked nervously.

Draco became serious again. He tried to hold back his instincts, which commanded him to
punch the boy in the face.
He took a deep breath, trying to relieve the tension in his shoulders.
"House elves…good thinking."

"What is that girl's problem?" blurted Zabini. "I didn't know she cared that much. They're just
house elves."

"Really?" asked Draco with a raise of his eyebrows. "Are you sure you've been attending this
school for the past few years? S.K.E.W, does that ring a bell?"

The boy's expression suggested that he had no idea what Draco was talking about.

-6

"So, Draco" Pansy said, looking at him curiously as she skewered a piece of roast on her
plate. "Have you asked Astoria to the ball yet?"

The question made the pumpkin juice he was sipping stuck in his throat.

"Come on" the girl continued. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it."

"Of course not," the young man replied. He had no intention of asking Astoria, or any other
girl, to come to the ball with him.
The only thing was worried about now, and would worry about that day, was Hermione's
safety.

"I'm headboy, I'm not going to the ball to have fun," he replied. "My job will be to oversee
that everything goes well." He hoped his excuse would hold up.

The Slytherin rolled her eyes, annoyed by that answer. "God, being this close to the goody-
goody is really hurting you," she concluded. "What do you think, Blaise?"

The dark-haired didn't lift his gaze from his plate, continuing to chew in silence.
Hoping to avoid attracting Pansy's attention further, he popped a large piece of roast into his
mouth.
However, his attempt to evade her friend's intrusive questions failed.

"Now that the m…" Theo stomped her foot from under the table, forcing her to correct
herself "… Granger is out of the game, who will be your next victim?"

Blaise seemed to get nervous. He downed the last bite and stood up from the table. "You
know what? I have a transfiguration assignment to finish, I'll see you later," he told the three,
leaving the Great Hall.

Pansy seemed displaced by that reaction, almost disappointed. "What is wrong with you all?"
she asked, addressing the two boys who had remained seated to continue their meal.

"And who are you going to invite to the ball?" asked Theodore to the girl, trying to lighten
the tense atmosphere that had descended on them.

"You're kidding right?"

"Where would be the joke?" replied the boy.

"I'm not going to a Muggle-themed ball. It may be all right with you, but it's already too
much for me to be forced by that old hag to attend Muggle studies."

"Come to the ball with me."

Draco suddenly began to feel uncomfortable, third wheel in what seemed to have become a
rather personal conversation between his two friends.

"I'm not going at all, Nott."

"Wanna bet?"

Draco cleared his throat. "I just remembered I have a meeting with the prefects, I'll see you
later," he said, getting up and disappearing at lightning speed.

-5

Hermione wouldn't give up until she found out what was happening to her.
So, that afternoon she went back to the library to see if the books she was interested in had
been returned.
The answer she received was negative.

She decided to insist for the librarian to reveal the identity of the person who had borrowed
them.

"Please Mrs. Prince," she begged. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

The woman adjusted her glasses, looking down at her with a puzzled expression. Should she
really deny such a harmless favor to the heroine of the Wizarding World?

Hermione caught the woman's hesitation and took the opportunity to launch her attack. "I
plan to start an association, like I did for the house elves. Do you remember S.K.E.W ?"

The woman paled. She remembered, of course she did. She couldn't forget the days when
little Hermione Granger would lock herself away for hours on end among the shelves reading
volumes of magical history, magical law, and creature books. She nodded.

"Great. You should know that it is my intention, once i finish my studies, to work at the
ministry to pass new laws not only to protect house elves, but werewolves and centaurs as
well," the Gryffindor had now shifted into high gear, "but I have recently discovered that
there are even bigger problems in magical society. I believe that wizards and witches are still
too bound to medieval and antiquated values, as well as bigoted and discriminating".

The woman nodded, addicted to her flow of words and unsure of what to answer. The girl
continued.
"Which is absurd by now, on the threshold of the twenty-first century, don't you think?"

"Oh..yes, of course." Attempted the librarian.

"Well, so you can see why I urgently need access to those texts. I need information,
documentation for my preparation. If I want to change something, I need to know the history
behind it first." She sighed "I would really appreciate it if you could help me."

Now confused and cornered, the elderly woman had no choice but to acquiesce to the
headgirl's demands.
She opened her register, flipping through a few pages that were several days old, scanning
with her index finger a list of names that the girl, from her position, could not decipher.

"Here," she finally affirmed. "The books were taken by Mr. Malfoy."

Oh for Godric thought Hermione.

This is going to be awkward.

-4

Hermione waited that evening, slightly anxious and quite embarrassed, for Draco to return so
she could borrow the books she was so desperate to get. It was not a long wait.
She barely had time to sit in front of the fireplace and start reading; Malfoy returned a few
minutes later.
As soon as the Slytherin crossed the threshold, the girl got up from her chair. Her instinct told
her to take a step in his direction, but she held back.

The last time she had gotten too close to him it hadn't ended well.
She was already amazed that the Slytherin hadn't sanitized his mouth with arsenic in front of
her eyes. Best not to push too hard and tempt fate.

Although, she realized, she wouldn't mind at all doing it again, or going beyond the kiss.

Oh for Godric Hermione, stop it.

She felt her cheeks begin to blush at those thoughts and almost forgot what she had to say.
Draco was standing in front of her. He hadn't dared to approach since the dormitory door had
closed behind him.

"Malfoy," the Gryffindor greeted him.

"Granger."

"I need to ask you something," she continued.

For you, anything a voice inside him answered.

A voice, not him. It didn't belong to him.
He had to keep it quiet.
"Sure, tell me," he managed to reply.

"I was looking for some books in the library, for a project I plan to undertake at the ministry
once I finish my studies," she rubbed her sweaty palms against the edge of her skirt. "I heard
from Madame Prince that you took them."

Oh.

"I was wondering if I could borrow them or how much longer you would need them."

Oh.

There were only three books she had taken from the library. All three on the same subject.
Why was Hermione looking for them?

What project was she talking about? Had she discovered the truth? Was she angry at him for
keeping it from her?
He should give her the books now, shouldn't he?

"Um, yeah…" he tried to say. "They weren't for me actually, I'd gotten them for Theodore."

Of all the excuses he could have made, he chose the worst.

"Come on, I'll get them for you now," he concluded, moving in the direction of his bedroom.
Hermione suddenly felt more aware of her body than she ever had before. Her palms were
sweating, her skin craved warmth and contact.
Her nostrils caught the boy's scent in a totally new way and with an intensity that displaced
her.
She couldn't do it. She couldn't enter his room.
She could not stay in a place where everything was impregnated with his scent.

Suddenly even the air in the common room was too heavy.

"No," she said, interrupting the young man's footsteps. "It's not urgent. You can leave them
here tomorrow morning."

After that she ran to her room, throwing all the windows wide open.

-3

The new books didn't help Hermione, and not having them with him only worsened Draco's
mood.

It was obvious that she had asked for them because she was starting to notice changes, but
now he had a thousand other questions on his mind that he couldn't answer.

She would certainly ask to be moved back to the Gryffondor's tower.

Maybe she would hate him for not talking to her.

He tried to recover momentarily from his paranoia, just to make his brain function for the
brief time of the prefects' meeting set for that afternoon.
He needed to be lucid, but as the hours passed it became more and more difficult.

"Muggle clothes only," Hermione clarified.

"We have contacted some botiques in Hogsmaede who have arranged for a supply of clothes
from London for those who wish to shop, so please let the students in your houses know."
She scrutinized the prefects.
"Are there any more questions?"

No one said anything, so the meeting was over. She let go of a sigh of exhaustion and
frustration.
The students didn't seem particularly excited about the dance, which was unusual for
teenagers.

But deep down she knew the truth: it was the muggle-world theme that didn't capture their
interest and stimulate their attention.
At that moment she vowed to herself that she would make this ball the best one they had ever
attended, whatever it takes.

For the next few days she would focus her energies exclusively on it. She had wasted far too
much time devouring volumes of magical biology, and what had she achieved? Nothing.
Not even the slightest mention of halfbloods or Muggleborns, nothing to explain her
situation.

Right now she had other things to think about, her revolution will start from here. The
muggle's world will get the attention and respect it deserves.

-2

The Gryffindor got up at dawn that day. She had a busy day ahead of her. Her first stop was
the village of Hogsmeade, where she was to pick up a large order for the ball.

She had set her brain in motion to try and create a totally magic free set up, while at the same
time having to bypass the problem of the lack of electricity at Hogwarts. And so she
remembered a wonderful thing: the existence of batteries.

It will leave everyone, especially the purebloods, speechless.

When she stepped into the shower that morning she felt particularly hot, almost feverish. But
she had no time to be sick: an invigorating cold shower and she began her hectic day.

-1

Draco had noticed how elusive Hermione had become by now and he couldn't figure out if it
was because of the organization of the ball, which she seemed to have taken as a personal
matter, or because of the things she may have found out on the books she had taken from
him.

The fact was that being able to keep up with her had become almost impossible, even though
he himself was involved in the organization. That morning, too, the girl had left the dorm
before he even woke up, and they hadn't had any classes together, so he hadn't had a chance
to see her.

She'd skipped breakfast and now, peering across the Great Hall at the Gryffindor table, he
was certain she'd skipped lunch as well.

What on earth was she doing?

"Admit it, Pansy," Theo said, in a tone of voice so high that it distracted Draco from his
paranoia about where, and with whom, the head girl was.

"Never, Nott."

"You've tried it though, haven't you?" urged the boy, scrutinizing her face intent on
deciphering her expression. "Oh, of course you've tried it" he smiled. "And you like it too."

Having witnessed the conversation, Draco decided he might as well get to know more. "What
are you talking about?"

It was the boy who answered. "I bought Pansy a dress for the ball, and though she'll never
admit it" he gave her an indulgent look "she likes it, a lot."
"Okay" Draco replied puzzled. "And what seems to be the problem?"

"It's a Muggle dress" huffed Pansy disgustedly, nervous and wanting to change the topic of
conversation. "By the way, Draco" she pointed to her left, forcing the young man to turn
around "I heard that Astoria is turning down several invitations, she's still waiting for the
right one."

The young man suddenly felt uncomfortable. He did not answer.

"Don't tell me you're going to the ball alone."

"Of course I'm going alone," he replied confidently, though the moment he uttered those
words his confidence wavered.

He should go alone, shouldn't he? He was one of the organizers after all, as well as the head-
boy. He couldn't just go to the ball and have a good time.

Hermione hadn't invited anyone, or at least he thought she hadn't. She was going alone,
wasn't she? He hoped very much that she was.
Maybe he should ask her about it: at least if she was going with someone he could still invite
Astoria, so he wouldn't be the only one alone at the ball.

Puzzled he finished his lunch and headed back to his dorm, finding Hermione a step away
from her bedroom. He stopped her before her hand touched the doorknob.

"Granger," he said. "I was wondering if you were going to the ball alone."
Oh Merlin what had he said?
It sounded like he wanted to invite her like that.

No, no, no.

He cleared his throat, trying to make up for the words that had left his mouth. "I mean, being
heads of the school and organizers, I don't think we should…I don't know…"

"Yes," the girl quickly replied. "I'll go alone."

"Fine," Draco asserted.

Salazar, what an idiot. Now he couldn't even formulate a decent answers in that girl's
presence. "I mean, I'm going alone too."

Hermione was genuinely confused and didn't understand where the boy was getting at. She
had to admit that she hadn't really thought about a date for the ball, for the simple reason that
she had been far too caught up organizing it.

But what did he care if she was alone or not? And why Draco Malfoy still didn't have a date
for the ball?

"Mhh…" Hermione was truly speechless and didn't know what to answer. "Maybe we could
go together…" she immediately regretted what she had said.
"Yes."

"…to supervise."

The boy coughed. God, he had answered so fast he sounded desperate, he hadn't even given
her time to finish.
"Sure" he tried to compose himself "as school leaders and organizers, I think that's what the
headmistress would want"

"Good".

"Good".

"Good night" Hermione said, finally opening the door to her room.

The long awaited day had finally arrived. Hermione woke up to find two owls at her window,
carrying gifts from Harry and Ron.

She had been caught up in so many commitments that she had forgotten her own birthday.
She would open them later, now she had so much to do.

After her morning classes she waited for lunch to be over and, once the great hall was finally
free, she began to direct the set-up for the ball, aided by all the prefects.

Needless to describe the perplexed and at times disgusted expression of the students,
purebloods in particular, when they saw the huge colored lamps she had had delivered to
place on either side of the hall.

However, she was also heartened by the astonished and amused expressions of the wizards
and witches from her own world.

"Wow," had exclaimed a newly appointed Ravenclaw girl. "Who came up with the idea of
hanging these little lights from the ceiling? That's brilliant."

When, exhausted and frazzled after an afternoon of preparation, she went to her dormitory to
change, she had to sit down for a moment. Her head was spinning. She opened the windows
trying to get some air but the situation did not improve.

She slipped into the shower hoping the hot water would relieve her dizziness.
She was just tired, she told herself. She had worked non-stop for a week, it was normal to
feel this way.

When, as she got ready, she realized she still didn't feel quite right, she took an invigorating
potion before slipping into her new dress.

She left her room largely early, intending to give the great hall one last check before the
students began to arrive.
However, she never reached it.

When she set foot in the common room she was amazed to find Draco Malfoy waiting for
her, elegantly dressed in a black suit that clashed with the natural pallor of his skin.

Her vision blurred for a moment and she feared she was going to faint.
She leaned against the door to keep her balance.

He was immediately in front of her.

It's happening, Draco thought.

Had Hermione figured it out? Should he take her to the infirmary?

"Hermione," he said, grabbing her arm to help steady her. "Are you okay?"

Her skin was warm, very warm. And smooth. And soft. And so sweetly scented.
And that blue dress-

The girl felt her own skin ignite where the young man's hand grasped her. She turned to look
at him, feeling her mind grow foggy.

"You," she murmured.

Her gaze was lost, it wasn't her anymore.

Draco fought with all the strength he had in his body to be able to hold back his instincts.

"You're not feeling well, Granger" his grip grew firmer. "I need to get you to the infirmary."

"Hermione" the girl replied in a small glow of lucidity. "You called me Hermione earlier."

Draco had no way of understanding what she was talking about.

Her small lips found their way on him, kissing and tasting the skin of his neck.

His body responded immediately: his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her and lifting
her against the wall. They kissed each other voraciously. Their tongues intertwined as the
Gyffindor's hands explored his chest.

Before he realized it, she had opened the buttons of his shirt one by one. It was only when he
saw his own bare chest pressed against the her warm body that he withdrew.

He couldn't go any further, he wasn't sure he would be able to hold back any longer.

She doesn't really want it, he kept repeating to himself.

When he pulled away from her, the absence of his warmth body felt like a cold shower for
Hermione.
Her mind was completely clouded with desire. She tried to reach for him, but he took one
more step back.
"Don't you want me?" She asked.

Draco's penis was pulsing against the zipper of his pants so hard it hurt.

This wasn't Hermione Granger. He needed to be lucid for both of them.

He brought a hand to his forehead.

"Please Hermione," he begged her, "you're the one who doesn't really want this." He wiped
the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket.
"You don't want this".

The girl stood motionless in front of him, so small and yet so damn inviting.
"It's you I want"

Those words were the straw that broke the camel's back of his self-control. It was too much
to resist.

He reached out and picked her up again, holding her as if he had the most precious thing in
the world in his arms. And he did.

His feet instinctively guided him through the open door of the girl's room and, between
tongues clashing and hands trying to caress every inch of exposed skin, he laid her gently on
the bed, lying on top of her.

"Are you sure?" he managed to ask, using up the last bit of lucidity he had left.

But Hermione, the one he knew, was no longer there.

"Alpha," she begged, "alpha, please."

Draco's heart began to beat so fast that he feared it might burst out of his chest. He had never
felt so desperate, aroused, and damn alive.

Hermione on the other hand felt the exact same way. The only thing she could feel was the
sensations around her and the devastating desire to feel something inside her. She was ready
to beg for what she wanted, what she so desperately needed.

Lost in the warmth of the body above her and entranced by the hands running along her skin,
she barely noticed that her dress had been removed. The young man's lips, which she had
kissed and savored until now, left her for a brief moment.
She felt them tighten around her breasts a second later as she felt his erection press against
her open legs.
She could feel her own arousal soaking the sheets.
She quivered with impatience.

"You're mine," the young man murmured against her neck before sinking inside her.

Hermione's vision fogged up from the intensity of the pleasure she felt.
"You are mine and mine only."
The Slytherin kept repeating as he moved inside her.

He didn't know where those words were coming from, but he couldn't hold them back.

He had lost control by now, and he had never felt better than this in his entire life.
 Chapter 10
Chapter Notes

I'll never stop repeating this: thanks to everyone who is reading and commenting this
story! You give me serotonin.

Warning: the chapter describes sex scenes with an explicit language, even a slightly
"violent" one

He had found her.

His little omega. She was his, his only. They belonged to each other.

His hormones were out of control, his body was preparing to meet her needs.
He would go on for as long as she was in heat, giving her everything she ask for.

Everything for her.

Everything for his little omega.

He felt his magic grow as he bonded with her thrust after thrust.
The atmosphere around them didn't just teem with pheromones: his magic was an invisible
entity that grew in step with his arousal, surrounding the room, creating a protection, building
them a safe haven that no one could violate.

He wouldn't allow anyone to get close to his omega, not when she was in this state: so
vulnerable, helpless, and begging.

And she had chosen him, wanted him. He was her alpha, they had found each other.
Nothing could separate him from her.
He would take care of her forever.

She was so beautiful.

Her soft body gently nestled between his chest and the mattress, her legs completely open to
him, her breasts totally exposed waiting to be devoured by his lips.
She was so helpless, totally at his mercy.

She had surrendered herself to him, trusted him blindly by throwing herself into his arms and
letting go completely.
And he would take care of her, in every possible way.

His heart beat wildly with every single thrust of his hips. His muscles felt no pain or fatigue.
There was only her and what she needed.
The girl's small hands climbed up his neck, sinking desperately into his blond hair, while her
belly craved the friction caused by the young man's constant thrusts.

When she was close to orgasm, he felt it. Not only in the pleasure of her sweet moans, but
also in the air. In the smell, in the perceptible change of her scent. Sweet, inviting, irresistible.

He wished he could taste her, absorb every facet of her with his taste buds, devour her until
she began to scream.

But not now, there was time for that. All he cared about now was giving her his all.
He wanted to see her come, knowing that her orgasm would be for him.
His penis pulsed desperately at the very thought.

He increased his pace, grabbing the girl's hands that were pressed against his chest and
pinning them to the mattress. He towered over her with his body, giving her the friction she
craved, his lips sinking into the joint between her neck and shoulder where her glands were
located. He kissed and licked the source of the scent he had become addicted to, whispering
disconnected words and phrases that would be impossible to hold back.

"Mine, mine," he kept repeating incessantly. "Come for me, my little omega."

He felt her slender legs tremble and her small, soft body going through a powerful jolt. Her
walls tightened and contracted around him, trapping him inside her. In the same instant,
enveloped by that intoxicating heat, he too reached orgasm.

The most intense, the most powerful, the most divine he had ever felt in his entire life.

His vision blurred and for a few seconds he saw nothing. He felt the gasping breath of the girl
lying underneath him and his seed flowing inside her, filling and flooding her. It lasted a long
time, longer than ever.

He was inside her, the best feeling he had ever experienced.

His arms tightened around her torso
and with a single move their positions reversed.

The little Gryffindor fell asleep, exhausted from everything that had happened to her, lying
against his chest and cradled by his caresses, while his penis was still inside her, trapped.
They were one, the two of them, their bodies had been created for this, they were meant to
find each other and join in such a grandly wonderful experience.

He remained silent, enjoying her relaxed breaths as she slept, gently stroking her untamed
hair spread all over him.

He didn't realize how much time passed as his hands slowly moved from her curls to her soft,
smooth, fragrant skin. He caressed every inch of it, gently, afraid of waking her.

When his arousal diminished and the girl's belly muscles relaxed, his penis left that warm
haven.
Free to move, the young man switched from caresses to kisses, light and gentle along
Hermione's bare skin, running the perimeter of her body lying so invitingly on the mattress.
Part of him longed for his omega to rest, to sleep and get her strength back.

However another part, the winning part, just wanted her to wake up so he could take her
again, making her infinitely his, again and again. When, after kissing and worshipping her
breasts and every inch of skin on her stomach, he descended between her legs, he couldn't
help himself. He longed to have more of her, he craved this new experience: her smell and
her warmth were no longer enough, he wanted to taste her.

That's how the girl woke up: with the silver halo of the boy's hair between her legs, reflecting
the faint rays of sunlight filtering through the window, and with her clitoris on fire. The
young man's saliva mingled with her arousal, and her mind clouded by hormones and
overwhelmed by instinct couldn't help but beg for more.

"Yes, Alpha," she exclaimed, lost in pleasure.

Those words were to Draco like a small spark on a floor sprinkled with gasoline.
They ignited him.
She was awake and still wanting him. Inside, unlike Hermione, he had retained some lucidity
and knew that the girl didn't really want him, the hormones were speaking for her.
He knew that when it was all over she would never look at him again, maybe even hate him.
But he willingly put that knowledge to rest. He would accept the consequences of his actions
later. He didn't care about what would happen to him right know. The only thing he cared
about was her, his omega.

He just wanted her to be okay and have everything she needed, and right now she needed
him, she needed exactly what he was giving her.

He continued to stimulate her clit with circular motions of his tongue, applying ever
increasing pressure and following the rhythm of her hips rising to meet his mouth.

Salazar, she was completely out of control, wonderfully lost in pleasure.

His heart could have exploded from the beauty of that scene and the sense of possessiveness
growing overpoweringly inside his chest.

"Alpha, please."

Agreeing to the girl's pleas, he slipped two fingers inside her, beginning to move them
frantically as his tongue continued to torment her clit.
A flood of words and promises began to form in his mind, eager to get out, to scream to her
and then to the world that she was his, his omega, that he would never let her go and would
always take care of her.

But they would have to wait. His tongue couldn't pull away from her. It went on until
Hermione's small hands clenched tightly around his hair and the muscles in her belly began
to contract.
Only after she had reached her orgasm, still shaking from the contractions, did he finally get
on top of her and penetrate her, slipping into her warmth and wetness.

He went on until she came twice more, as a strange new awareness grew in his chest and took
over every cell in his body: he would do anything for her.

She was his and it was his job to take care of her.
No one would ever hurt her again, he would never allow it.

When, exhausted after hours and hours of intercourse, the girl fell asleep again, Draco was
forced to get up and leave the room temporarily. It was now well into the day, which meant
they had skipped dinner, breakfast, and probably lunch as well.

His omega needed to stay hydrated and eat. Her body needed strength and energy to deal with
what she was going through.
For that reason, he slipped out of the dormitory and walked undisturbed down the street to
the kitchens.
The hallways were quiet, so he assumed it was around lunchtime.

Since most of the students and faculty were in the great hall, he managed to make it to the
kitchens without catching any attention.

Not that he cared. Whatever shred of lucidity he might still possess after the night with the
Hermione, it had been completely lost that morning.
The rational part of him, the part that commanded him to stay in control for both of them,
was being consumed layer by layer with each of Hermione's orgasms, with each time she
referred to him as alpha, her alpha.

And now his only concern was to make sure she was healthy and in strength.

He knew deep down that there was something deeply wrong with everything that was going
on.

He was aware that they couldn't be gone for long, that someone would soon notice their
absence between classes and heads commitments and will start looking for them.

But it was as if there was no room in his mind for such worries. The alarm bell that should
have sounded had been turned off, deactivated.

It was as if the rest of the world had suddenly become nothing more than background noise
around him and his omega, which was instead the center of it.

After having the elves supply him with a bag of food, fresh fruit, and pumpkin juice, he
walked unnoticed back to his dormitory.

As soon as he walked through the door Hermione lunged at him, still naked, covered only by
a light sheet.

She must have just woken up, her eyes, whose pupils were still dilated, were covered with a
shiny halo, a sign that she was about to cry.
That sight triggered something primitive and protective inside him.

He put down the bag containing his supplies from the kitchens and approached her, encircling
her with one arm while he stroked her face with the other.

"Where have you been?" she asked, with a tone of voice that made her seem small and
helpless, different from how everyone knew her. "You wanted to leave…" she said without
looking him in the eye.

Draco held her tighter, lifting her up and forcing her to meet his gaze. "Never," he said. "I
will never leave you," he repeated, perhaps for the twentieth time in the last eighteen hours.

Hermione's lips came at him with a hunger and desperation that were totally new. Her small
hands began to tear off the buttons of his shirt, no longer caring to gently open them one by
one.
Draco laid her down on the sofa, undressing completely and separating the girl from the sheet
she was covered by.

Cradled by the warmth of the fireplace in their common room, though he felt his arousal
growing to the point of pain, Draco waited for the girl to eat and drink before sinking
desperately into her again and again.

Night fell, a sign that it had been a whole day since Hermione had been in heat.

Draco held her close as she slept, wondering how long this would last and simultaneously
dreading the answer.

Rationally, he knew that soon Hermione would be taken from him, but now, with her in his
arms sprinkled with his seed, it seemed an infinitely remote and distant thought.

When the girl opened her eyes again at the crack of dawn the next morning, for the briefest of
moments, the young man registered in them an awareness of what was happening.

It was only a brief and isolated moment of lucidity, which vanished when their irises met.

Draco's heart skipped a beat as a fear he wished he could ignore gripped his stomach.

What if she didn't want him?

What if, when it was all over, she hated him? What if she went to someone else, to another
alpha?

The very thought made him feel physical pain.

She seemed to sense that something was bothering him, as she moved closer, towering over
him with her small body and straddling him.
Instinctively the boy's hands were on her hips.
His eyes fixed on her sweet face, admiring every facet of it.
The tiny dimple on her chin, the soft curve of her pink lips, her cheeks terribly soft and
smooth as a child's.
Hermione's hips moved and her belly, whose warmth and wetness he could feel even from a
distance, pressed against the tip of his penis.
She was about to sit on him when she caught a glint of hesitation in his silver eyes.

"You don't want me anymore, alpha," she murmured.

A shiny veil formed around her eyes.

The hormones, besides making her terribly aroused, were making her emotional.
It was as if she perceived everything with a tripled intensity, to the point that there was no
space left in her mind for anything else.

Whatever hesitation the young man had, it vanished at those words. With a move of his pelvis
he pushed his member between her warm walls, which widened to welcome him. When he
was inside her, he encircled her torso with his arms and reversed their position.

He took his time to admire the girl's beauty: her thick hair were spread across the mattress,
her lips half-closed, letting escape sweet moans with every thrust.

Suddenly in his head echoed the words she had just spoken and an animalistic feeling took
possession of him.

He grabbed her arms, immobilizing her, while his thrusts became faster, stronger, more
violent. "Don't ever say that again," he said, in a tone of voice he didn't recognize as his own:
intimidating, almost threatening.
The girl moaned again, as the sound of their bellies colliding became louder and louder.

"Say you're mine," intimated the young man, possessed by a new emotion, the most
animalistic and violent of any he had felt so far.
He increased the force of his thrusts again, wanting to push himself deeper into her. He
wanted all of himself inside her, and she would have to take him, because she was his.

When the girl didn't respond he pushed himself into her with such force that he forced her to
open her eyes. With one hand he grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him as he pushed his
member as deep as he could.

"Say you're mine" he repeated, consciously using his Alpha tone for the first time.

"I'm yours," the Gryffindor replied.

She felt him inside her, unmoving in all of his length, filling her. The muscles in her belly
twitched with excitement and anticipation, welcoming that invasion.

The young man's grip on her face grew stronger, making it impossible for her to move her
neck.
His penis moved back slightly, only to fill her again with a strong, firm thrust.

"My what?" he asked, as he applied pressure to her clit with the weight of his own body.

The thumb of the hand encircling her face traveled along the contour of her lower lip,
slipping into her mouth, forcing it open.
"Your omega."

Satisfied, the Slytherin resumed with his violent, uncontrollable thrusts.

The girl reached orgasm after a few seconds and he felt the uncontrollable instinct to sink his
teeth into her flesh, to bite her.

She would be his forever: not only with words, not only through fleeting promises dictated by
the excitement of the moment. No other alpha would ever come near her again, the whole
world would know she was his, and she herself could do nothing to avoid it.

All he had to do was sink his canines lightly into the joint between her neck and her shoulder.
Just a small bite, just a moment, and then all of his fears wouldn't exist anymore.

They would vanish, he would have nothing to fear anymore.

He had already licked the area, moistening it with his own saliva, furrowing with his tongue
the spot where he would imprint his mark.

But just then he felt disgusted with himself, awakened.

Although he was surrounded by the girl's body and wrapped in her warmth, he felt as if a
bucket of freezing water had been dumped on him.

What was he going to do? She didn't deserve to have another mark inflicted on her against
her will, especially by him.

He thought back to what he had done: he had been violent with her, he had used his alpha
tone, he had deliberately abused of his strength, his superiority.

He felt dirty, but at the same time unable to pull away, to let her go.

He slowed his pace, depositing gentle, light kisses on the spot of her skin he was about to
violate.

"I'm sorry," he murmured to her ears. "I'm sorry."

He reached orgasm like this, with gentle thrusts and tender kisses, whispering all his guilt and
apologies in her ear.

"What are you sorry for?" asked Hermione some time later, on the verge of falling asleep,
pressed against his chest and wrapped in his powerful arms.

Draco was grateful that, just a second later, the girl slipped into sleep. He wouldn't have had
the courage to answer that question.

The third day was marked by slowness and veneration. The Slytherin felt terribly guilty for
what he had tried to do the night before, but at the same time he was too weak to walk away,
to leave her.
As much as he didn't trust his own self control, he feared those of others more.
So he lost himself in the veneration of her body, striving to keep a slow pace, to contain his
impulses, to never risking losing control.

It was not easy: it was exhausting, it required an enormous effort on his part.
For that reason, at the end of the third day that Hermione was in heat, he slipped into a sleep
deeper than usual.

The previous two nights, even though he had fallen asleep, he'd maintained such a level of
alertness that every movement and sigh of his omega was able to awaken him.

It wasn't a problem, he wasn't tired, he didn't need to sleep as much as she did to regain his
strength.
His job was to protect her, to make sure she had everything she needed.

But that third night, after a full day of holding back his most violent and animalistic instincts,
he slipped into a deep sleep, far too deep.

He was startled awake by a large roar and a violent crash.

His first instinct was to throw himself in front of Hermione, hiding her with his body.

He heard the sound of footsteps in the common room.

There was more than one person. He cursed, remembering that both of their wands were right
in there.

"Even the door to the room is surrounded by protective spells," stated a voice he did not
recognize.

"Are you sure that's where they are?" asked someone else, whom he recognized as
Mcgonagall.

A spell he had never heard was cast. The door shook and something in the atmosphere
around them changed.

Hermione woke up, looking at him with terrified, startled eyes, naked, covered only by a
light sheet.

He held her in his arms at the same instant the door to the room opened, revealing the
headmistress, Madam Pomfrey and a man he didn't recognize.

"Get away from her, Malfoy," McGonagall shouted, pointing her own wand at Draco's bare
back.

Hermione began to cry and sob against his chest, desperately trying to vanish into the sheets.

"He won't let her go" the man said coldly, as if it was a situation he'd seen over and over
again.

"Stupeficium."
 Chapter 11
Chapter Notes

I'm so happy you enjoyed the previous chapter! Your comments made my day! ❤

Hope you'll enjoy this one too, even if things will get quite complicated from now on for
the two of them.

11

He felt tired, terribly tired.

All his muscles were sore, as if he had been fighting for hours.
He had no strength to move.

He felt such weakness that he was unable to open his eyes and give a face to the voices he
heard arguing. His mind was foggy, his reasoning slow. Just the effort of thinking made him
feel pain, he only wished to sleep… but those voices were so annoying.

"I ran to you as soon as I recognized the magical trace of those protective spells, Magnus…"

"You did well, Minerva. I myself am amazed that we were able to get in… they were very
powerful barriers"

There was a pause, a worried sigh. The man's voice resumed.

"You couldn't have prevented this, Minerva. Do not blame yourself, we have witnessed
something incredibly rare. Unique, I dare say. In fact, if possible, I would like to see the girl
as well."

"No one will approach Hermione Granger until she has recovered and has a chance to tell her
side of the story, only then we will decide how to proceed."

Hermione… The echo of that name rumbled through his foggy mind.

Hermione Granger…
His Hermione Granger, his omega…

She needed him, she was helpless, vulnerable. He needed to protect her, he needed to be with
her.

Suddenly he forgot about his tiredness, feeling a new strength flow through his nerves,
lighting up his incredibly heavy and aching muscles. He had an assignment, he had to take
care of her.
He had promised, no one would ever hurt her again.
He tried to move, but couldn't. Something was holding him to the bed.

There were no ropes on his wrists, nor on his ankles, yet moving was impossible. They had
immobilized him. He tried to summon all his strength in an attempt to free himself.
His muscles burned from the effort.

"Magnus…"

"I agree Minerva, but if you could just study her for a while-"

"No, the boy…"

Draco's vision began to blur from the effort, his head spinning. He saw two blurry figures
approaching him.

He recognized them, it was them, the ones who had taken him away from her, from his
omega.

"He should have been asleep for several more hours," the man stated. "This is curious…"

"What do we do?" asked Mcgonagall.

"He can't be awake while she's still in heat; he's not thinking straight."

His eyelids grew heavier and heavier as his ears heard garbled words he didn't recognize. It
seemed to be a spell.

His eyes were closing, but he didn't want to fall asleep.

"Hermione".

Hermione jolted awake, her skin burning and her body craving physical contact.

Alpha, Draco.

Although she was still in heat, she had regained some clarity thanks to the potions they had
given her: suppressants.

Still, it was terribly excruciating: with every cell in her body on fire and her clitoris throbbing
painfully from arousal it took her several minutes to realize where she was.

Although lucid, all she could think about was how much she wanted her Alpha, Draco.

In that instant the realization came: she had been with Draco Malfoy. The images of the
previous days began to flood into her memory, blurring together and creating even more
havoc in her already deeply troubled mind.
She had been with Draco Malfoy.
The craziest part was actually that Draco Malfoy had slept with her. Her, Hermione Granger.
How had that happened?

Disconnected thoughts and confusing images swirled through her mind.

The hurricane in her head was paused temporarily; Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall were in
front of her.

"Hermione, do you understand what we're saying?" the school nurse asked.

The girl shook her head, trying to momentarily get away from her thoughts, focusing only on
what she could see and hear.
She was in the infirmary, the two women were standing in front of her, holding a small bottle
with a purple colored potion in it. She blocked the desire to get lost in her knowledge, curious
to find out what potion it was, what precise mix of ingredients produced that color.
She wanted to set her brain in motion on something she knew, focusing on a problem she
knew she could solve, but she forced herself to stay focused on reality.

Where was she? Why had she been with Draco? What did they want from her? Why did her
legs keep feeling damp with arousal? She took a deep breath.

Concentrate, Hermione. Concentrate. Stay calm.

"Miss Granger," the nurse called to her again. "You're in a confused state, you should sleep
for another day or two."

Mcgonagall stepped forward, looking at her apprehensively.

"We're so sorry Hermione, we wouldn't have wanted to wake you up in this state, but today is
the last possible day to make this decision," she placed the bottle with the purple potion in
front of her.
"It's only fair that you have the choice, the decision should absolutely be yours."

Hermione grabbed the potion, scrutinizing it. She didn't recognize it, but she was probably
just tired.

"It's a contraceptive," the headmistress said quickly.

Hermione felt her heart stop for a few seconds as her breathing became heavy.

"It's likely that after what happened…" the nurse began to explain, struggling with the
delicacy of the situation. She paused, not seeming to find the words.
"We're sorry we woke you up," she looked toward Minerva with a worried air, speaking
addressed to both of them, "but it has to be taken by today."

The two women were exchanging worried glances while Hermione, without thinking twice,
took the potion and downed it in one go.

When she soundly put the empty bottle on the table the two older witches turned to look at
her with an astonished and at the same time relieved air.
She analyzed the few facts she was currently aware of: she had sex with Draco Malfoy and
now, for reasons that were still unclear, she was lying on a bed in the school infirmary. Or at
least he hoped it was Hogwarts, she had no other clues to deduce it apart from the presence of
the two women.

However she would figure out later what was happening to her. She just needed time to put
the pieces back together.

If only she could stop feeling so terribly aroused…. It was embarrassing, she could feel the
blood flowing to her clitoris as her walls lubrificated, preparing to welcome an intrusion that
would not come.

Images of the young Slytherin began to flood her mind and she wished with all her heart that
she could cast them out, occlude them.

She hated the sensation of arousal she kept feeling between her legs, the warmth of her skin,
her racing pulse. It was just too much: all the physical sensations she was feeling prevented
her from thinking, reasoning, understanding and making sense of what was happening.
Tears of frustration began to flow down her cheeks.

The nurse approached her with an apprehensive and worried air, pulling out of her pocket
another small bottle, this time of a white liquid that the girl immediately recognized: sleeping
potion. She swallowed it in one gulp.

"Sleep dear, tomorrow you'll feel better…" were the last words she heard before sinking into
the arms of Morpheus.

When Draco opened his eyes again, he found himself lying on a bed. He recognized the
school infirmary.

He immediately tried to get up, finding himself unable to do so. They had immobilized him,
again.

Although the desire to run to Hermione was as thick as a boulder and vibrating powerfully in
his chest, he felt mentally clear.

His mind briefly reconstructed the events of the past 48 hours.

Hermione, Mcgonagall, that man…. Magnus…

They had separated him from her, they had no right to do so.

He was only going to walk away from Hermione if, and when, she asked him to, not like this,
it wasn't right.

"Mr. Malfoy." The man's voice, which he had come to recognize too well by now, caught his
attention as his mind did nothing but keep thinking about Hermione.

He needed to know where she was, how she was, what they had done to her.
"I was anxious for you to wake up " the man continued. He was wearing a healer's uniform,
which however totally clashed with his figure.

Call it a sixth sense, or a bad feeling, or just plain Slytherin instinct, but Draco was certain
that the man was anything but a healer.

He sat down in the armchair next to the boy's bed, pulling a notebook and an enchanted
feather from his pocket.

"You are?" Draco asked grumpily, not caring about the formalities. It would have been
superfluous since he was immobilized on a bed.

"Magnus Niewald," the man replied, adjusting his glasses with his fingertips as his notebook
and feather lifted, remaining suspended in midair. That name… It wasn't the first time he'd
heard it, he was more than certain.
He was German, it was easy to guess, no matter how hard he tried to disguise his accent.
Where…where had he heard it before? Why did he feel he knew it? There was something
strange about this.

Anxiety grew in his chest.

His instinct yearned to ask for Hermione, but a part of him blocked it. Something within him,
less primal and more rational, suggested that it would not be prudent to expose his omega to
this man. He opted to focus his attention on himself.
"Why am I bound?" he asked, observing his own wrists immobilized by invisible ropes.

The man shrugged as the feather began frantically wiggling against the notebook.

"Precautions desired by the two ladies," he said, referring to Mcgonagall and Madam
Pomfrey. "I think that it wasn't necessary," he lowered his tone of voice, inching closer to the
boy's bed. "You've demonstrated an unnatural level of self-control."

Draco was taken aback for a moment. Self-control?

The older wizard caught the astonishment on his face.

"To my knowledge, the girl was not bitten." There was a moment of silence. "Why?" the man
asked, serious, almost aggressive.

"What?"

"Why didn't you bite her?"

"MAGNUS." McGonagall appeared behind his back, peeling back the curtain and revealing
a completely empty infirmary. Not that he had expected otherwise.
If Hermione had been there, he would have smelled her.

Her gaze was furious and stern as she turned to the man. "Mr. Malfoy is not allowed to speak
to anyone until he has been questioned."

"It's for simple research Minerva, what happened…"

"You will not use my students as guinea pigs for your research and experiments."

Then McGonagall turned her attention to the boy, scrutinizing him closely. "Mr. Malfoy, we
will hold you here until both you and Miss Granger have been questioned."

The young man opened his mouth to speak but the principal interrupted him. "I had to inform
your parents…"

Draco noticed out of the corner of his eye that the man jerked as soon as he heard the
Malfoys being mentioned.

He felt a sense of unease and agitation coursing through his nerves. It made him suddenly
feel nauseous.
Had his parents heard about what had happened? More importantly, did he care what they
thought?

He decided that yes, he cared.

He cared because they would certainly try to get him away from Hermione.

Hermione woke up in the same small room she had been woken up in the previous time. She
didn't realize how much time had passed, but she definitely felt better.

Her skin wasn't burning, her body temperature was normal.

She felt aroused, but no more or less than she had felt all summer, and especially since her
return to Hogwarts.

Madam Pomfrey approached her, serving her a tray of breakfast and some clean clothes. It
seemed strange to her to get all that attention.
She had been to the infirmary several times over the years, but she could not remember such
apprehension.
She ate slowly, showered, and dressed. She didn't know what awaited her, McGonagall had
mentioned that she needed to talk to her and Hermione couldn't agree more.

She didn't know why everyone continued to treat her with kid gloves, but now that she was
feeling better and mentally lucid she felt the need to get answers to her questions. She would
expect a punishment, at the very least. She had skipped the dance she herself had planned.
As a school leader, she had an obligation to attend it.

What she didn't understand was why she was in the infirmary. Or rather, it looked like the
infirmary, but something was different. It was a smaller room, a few beds, and she was the
only one there.

Was Malfoy there as well?

Draco.
She remembered the unhealthy attraction she had developed for the Slytherin over the past
few weeks, which had been incredibly heightened in the days following their kiss.

However, she couldn't remember how they had ended up in bed together.
Had she been the one to take the initiative, or had he? Her memories didn't offer her a clear,
linear image, only brief glimpses of the young man's muscular body on top of her, his hands
on her body, his lips…
God, Hermione, enough.

"Miss Granger?" the nurse's voice intervened, thankfully, to bring her back to reality. She
turned around.
The woman wasn't alone, along with her were McGonagall, a man she didn't recognize in a
healer's uniform and another woman, very young, in the clothes of a ministry official.

Who were all these people? Why did they seem to be here for her? She began to feel agitated.

"We just need to ask you some questions," the headmistress said, inviting her to take a seat at
a table that had been set up in the center of the empty infirmary. Why did it feel like an
interrogation?

Her brain raced at lightning speed to try to put the pieces together, however it was like having
to complete a puzzle without ever having seen the main picture.

She couldn't comprehend it. She sat down, her heart in her throat, thinking that whatever it
was she would find out soon enough.

She feared she was in trouble. Maybe something had gone wrong at the ball she hadn't shown
up to….

The ball.
Suddenly the image of her blue dress being torn and thrown on the floor emerged in her
memory.

She struggled to remember: how had she gotten to that point? She remembered taking a
potion for her headache a moment before going down to the Great Hall.

But she had never made it to the Great Hall.

Draco was there waiting for her and….. Oh.

She remembered. He had approached her to help her…. And she… She had pounced on his
lips.

Oh Merlin.

She began to feel agitated and mortified.

More memories emerged: he had tried to pull away.

He had moved away from her, reaching the opposite wall, and she had catapulted herself
back in front of him.
Oh god. Oh god.

"Hermione," the woman sent from the ministry called back to her softly.

The girl looked up at her. "Yes?"

"Are you up to telling us what happened?" the Ministry's employee asked again.

"What happened when?"

Did they want to know why she hadn't been to the dance?

She didn't understand.

There was no way they wanted to know about Draco…. Unless he had turned her in.

Maybe he'd asked to be removed from the dormitory, to be put back in the dungeons?

But why hadn't he stopped her then, when she'd pounced on him?
She felt so embarrassed.

"Six days ago Hermione, the 19th September. Do you remember what happened?"

What did she mean six days ago? How long had she slept?
The girl looked around confused.

"What day is it today?" she asked.

"September 25," replied the woman.

Hermione became increasingly agitated. Her heart was beating at a frantic pace against her
rib cage and a thousand new questions were making their way inside her head.

"Did I sleep for six days?" She asked, causing her gaze to dart between everyone in the room.

Her interlocutors looked confusedly at each other.

It was the man, who until now had not opened his mouth, who spoke this time. "You have
slept for three and a half days," he said, quickly and seriously.

McGonagall and the woman from the ministry looked at him sternly, as if he had said
something wrong.

The man spoke facing them. "The girl faced a war, was tortured, fought Voldemort himself"
he placed his hands on the table. "She can tolerate the truth. She MUST know the truth."

"Enough Magnus" McGonagall intervened, interrupting the man who nevertheless seemed to
be in gear by now.

"Hermione" resumed the woman, with a forced smile. "We just want to know if you can now,
lucidly, tell us if anything has been done to you that you wouldn't have wanted."
The girl squinted her eyes, while the man huffed audibly.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered to himself.

Hermione was still confused. In what sense had something been done to her? She had been
the one to….

The Gryffindor spoke directly to the man, the only one who seemed really intent on not
treating her gently and telling it like it was.

"I would like the truth," she said decisively.

Magnus smiled mischievously as the two women looked rather displeased. "You are an
omega, Miss Granger."

New pieces of the puzzle began to assemble in the girl's mind.

"Me? No, that's not possible…"

"That's enough," the Ministry's woman intervened.

"Hermione, please answer the question."

"No one forced me to…" She felt guilty, terribly mortified. She was the one who had
ventured on the boy, not the other way around.

It all made sense now: that's why something inside her kept screaming that word, alpha.

Draco Malfoy was an alpha. If what she'd read about their nature was true, and if she really
was what they claimed she was, then it had cost him an enormous effort to try to get away
from her.

Yet his revulsion for her was so strong that he had tried.
He almost would have succeeded, if only she hadn't literally jumped on him.
And they thought he was the one who had abused her?

It wasn't hard to imagine why everyone was so prejudiced against him.

She reflected for a moment on the man's words: she was an omega.
As absurd as it was, it explained everything. The puzzle in her mind began to take shape.

She felt so disgusted with herself. All the symptoms spoke volumes, but how could she have
known she was an omega? this meant someone in her family had magical blood.

"So Draco Malfoy didn't abuse you?"

Hermione was shocked. She blushed, even before she felt anger at the nature of the question.
"No," she answered decisively, wishing only to walk away from that conversation.

The woman nodded, setting aside some papers she had been holding up to that point. "Fine,"
she said, addressing not the girl but the headmistress. "Draco Malfoy risks nothing then, he
will be able to stay at Hogwarts. However, the last word is up to you, Minerva."
Hermione turned in amazement to Mcgonagall. Was Draco in danger of being expelled? It
was absolutely ridiculous.

Why did everyone assume that she was the victim and not him?

McGonagall remained silent, so Hermione intervened. "Draco Malfoy should not be

expelled," she said, confidently. "Nor should he be dismissed from his role as Headboy. He is
not to blame," she clarified.

She was eager to leave the room and hole up in the library, taking refuge in her books and
delving into her own condition, hoping she could put more pieces together.

She was going to have to talk to Malfoy, assuming he would listen to her, to apologize and
ask him for his side of the story.

However she was also afraid to approach him, not trusting her body's reactions.

She stood up as four pairs of eyes stared at her in disbelief.

"May I go?" she asked.

"If you have nothing else to add, yes," said the woman from the ministry.

Hermione moved, step by step, unsure of what her destination really was. She let her steps
guide her down the hallway, until she reached the outer courtyard. She needed air to think.

The spell that immobilized him was released. The young man stood up, under the eyes of
four people, waiting for directions.

Didn't they say they had to interrogate him?

Draco didn't understand, he felt confused. He was convinced that they would expel him, even
arrest him.

Until a moment ago he was tied to a bed like the worst of criminals, and now they were
letting him go as if nothing had happened? What had changed?

The headmistress spoke again. "All of your things have been moved to a dormitory on the
east tower," she told him. "Your classes and your headboy duties will resume tomorrow."

Then they all left left the room.

Alone, his mind in turmoil and amazed that he had not been expelled, the young man walked
towards the east tower with slow steps.
Hermione had wanted to get away from him. He understood her, he couldn't blame her, he
respected her decision. How stupid had he been to believe that she would want to be with him
even when she was no longer in heat?
Could he have been any more pathetic than that?
What were you thinking, Draco? You need to stay away from her. He told himself.
She'll never want to be near you again.

Hermione, after walking around the courtyard until dusk, decided to head to her dormitory.

She wasn't sure if she would find Draco there waiting for her, but deep down she hoped so.
She felt she needed to talk to him.

She felt doubly guilty towards him: first, because she had pounced on him when he had
clearly tried to back down. Secondly because, in everyone's eyes, he had passed as the
culprit, when in fact he had not been at fault.
She felt she owed him at least an apology.

She spoke the password and held her breath as the door slowly opened. She stepped into the
common room.
He was not there.

She climbed the steps to his door and knocked. There was no answer. She waited a few
minutes.

Maybe he didn't want to talk to her, or hadn't returned yet.

She sat on the couch in the common room and read until evening.

A thought crossed her mind: she looked around the room.

His things were not there.

Draco Malfoy wasn't a messy guy, one of those people who flooded the space with their
belongings. However, since they had settled into the dorm, he always left a few books in the
common room in front of the fireplace, and his feather and ink bottle were always on his
table. Now they weren't.

She stood up, reaching for the door to his room. She rested her hand on the handle.

There were no spells, it wasn't locked. She opened it.

The room was empty, completely.

He had changed dorms. He had moved away from her.

It was obvious he would.

How could she think he would even agree to talk to her after what she had done to him?

She felt dirty, guilty, and absurdly ridiculous.

What were you thinking, Hermione? You have to stay away from him. He'll never want you
near him again.
 Chapter 12
Chapter Notes

I'll say this again: thanks to everyone reading, leaving kudos and commenting! I really
appreciate it ❤❤

From this chapter on there will be some Draco's flashbacks from the past years at
Hogwarts, from first year to that fatal moment at Malfoy Manor. Hope you'll like them.

Also, our boy is going to discover some things....

12.

Everything was so perfect. Softly crushed by Draco's weight on top of her, his penis inside
her in his full length, his pelvis moving rhythmically, causing thrust after thrust the most
intense and devastating pleasure she had ever felt in her entire life. It was incredible, their
bodies were incredible. She felt him inside her, felt her own walls widen to accommodate him
inch by inch.

She had never wanted something so badly before. It was a need that consumed her by the
force with which it burned through her nervous system.
The young man's hips began to move frantically, up and down. He no longer maintained a
controlled rhythm, sinking into her with force and determination, he seemed lost in pleasure
as well.
And she liked it, liked every single thing she was feeling. She liked being taken violently, she
liked the sound their bellies made as they collided, she liked the friction his pelvis exerted
right there, right in that sweet spot.

He spoke, but the words escaped her mind. Her vision fogged, she closed her eyes and the
tsunami of the orgasm reached her. Her body contracted, her walls tightened around him….
It was so intense…

She opened her eyes.

She sat on her bed, panting.
She was sweating. She looked around, finding herself alone.

It had been a dream, she had dreamed Draco Malfoy.

She threw off the covers in a vain attempt to get some air.
The book she had been reading lay beside her on the bed, still open to the page she had fallen
asleep on, the one that described the relationship between alpha and omega.
Determined to ignore the annoying arousal she had awakened with, and with which it would
be impossible to fall back asleep, she grabbed the book and resumed reading. She read for
over an hour, reaching a chapter she had missed weeks ago, believing it didn't concerned her.

When the omega is in heat, during intercourse, the alpha bonds permanently to her by
sinking its canines into her glands, in the joint between her neck and shoulder. This imprints
a magical trace between the two, who will be, from that moment on, bonded.

She instinctively brought her hands to her neck, looking for signs of a bite that, deep down,
she knew wasn't there.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she was filled with mixed emotions.

Gratitude towards the Slytherin for not biting her, shame and guilt at having pounced on him
after his retreat attempt, desire, despite everything, to relive the experience.

It was a sleepless night for Draco, a night marked by an emptiness in his chest as deep as a
chasm.
Every cell in his body burned with the need to be with Hermione. The three days he had
spent in her bed had simply been the best of his life.

He didn't think he could ever feel this way. When her wonderfully naked body was in front
of him his arousal grew to a level he didn't think possible.
And even though she seemed so small and tight, he had slipped inside her with immense
ease.

Her walls had expanded specifically for him, just enough to envelop him perfectly and make
him lose his mind. But maybe he'd already lost that long time ago.

As much as he kept telling himself it was just hormones, a small part of his unconscious was
beginning to doubt it.

He had always been attracted to Hermione, even if he had never had the courage to admit it to
himself until the war had hit his life like a hurricane, sweeping away everything he had
believed in until then.

Pureblood, half-blood, what did it matter? What was the difference between them?

What could make him think he was better at magic than her?
Hermione, who wasn't born in that world but mastered magic better than any other wizard or
witch of her age.

Perhaps he had simply been afraid, and still was, of what others, especially his parents, would
say. He feared their reaction. He wasn't allowed to feel attraction towards someone like her.

December, 1991

It was the Christmas break of his first year at Hogwarts and he was thrilled to be back home
to tell his parents all about his new school.
Dinners at the Manor turned into full-fledged banquets during the Christmas vacations.

"And then he became a seeker on the quidditch team, can you believe it dad? It's against the
rules."

Narcissa smiled, elegantly wiping her face with her napkin.

"I'm sure you'll be able to get into the team next year, honey."

"You will, Draco," Lucius affirmed from across the table. "I'll buy you the best broom there is
and you'll become the best seeker Slytherin has ever had."

Draco smiled, instantly forgetting about his rivalry towards that schoolmate.
His father believed in him, that was all that mattered, all he wanted.

"And with your homework, son? How are your classes going?" asked Lucius again.

"Fine, I'm second in my class."

There was a moment of silence, in which Lucius and Narcissa looked at each other for a few
seconds.

"Really?" the woman asked softly. "And who's first?"

"Hermione Granger, an insufferable Gryffindor. She's so irritating. No wonder she has no

friends."

"Granger…" Lucius took a sip from his goblet. He seemed to ponder it for a few seconds.
"Is she related to Hector Granger, the potionist?"

"No, I don't think so," he continued to eat as if nothing had happened, still too naive to
understand what his father was referring to and the impact that conversation would later
have on him.

"His parents aren't like us" he took a bite. "They're Muggles. I didn't believe it at first
because she mastered spells better than anyone else even before classes started. And you
should have seen her on the train, she was running around with her knowitall attitude giving
lessons to anyone who came within reach, she must have necessarily learned them before-".

He was interrupted by a frustrated snort from his father. He looked up from his plate, finding
a totally disgusted Lucius in front of him.
The man put his fork aside, pushing his plate away.
"Disgusting," he said.

"Lucius" Narcissa called back to him, but the man didn't listen.

"A Mudblood first of the class, Hogwarts has definitely lowered its standards. They must have
done it on purpose, it must have been a Dumbledore's idea…"

"Lucius."
"I told you that Durmstrang would have been a better choice for him, they don't allow certain
scum there."

"That's enough" repeated Narcissa.

Lucius opened his mouth to speak again, but the woman interrupted him.
"Not in front of Draco, Lucius."

He tossed and turned in the sheets again, straining not to think about his father and how
different everything could have been, perhaps, if he hadn't been so blind and stupid in the
past.
He closed his eyes and took some deep breaths, concentrating only on the air that entered and
left his lungs, blocking any other thought or image, finally slipping into a very light sleep at
the first dawn's light.

Hermione got up the next morning wishing only to forget what had happened over the past
few days. However, she hadn't really come to terms with the fact that she had been out of
sight for days and none of her friends had heard from her.

"Hermione."

Ginny and Neville were the first to run up to her as soon as she set foot in the Great Hall for
breakfast the next morning.

She sat down under the curious stares of not only her housemates but the entire room. It
didn't help that she was head girl.

"What happened to you?" Asked Ginny as soon as she took her place at the table.

Hermione's mind raced trying to figure out the extent to which others knew what had
happened to her and wishing that no one was aware of her mortifying condition, at least for
now.
She peered at the table set up for breakfast, immediately feeling her appetite grow large.

How long had it been since she'd had a full meal in the Great Hall? What had she eaten in the
last few days?

Her mind was flooded with a flahsback: her naked body sitting on top of Draco's legs, while
between kisses and caresses he gently fed her some juice. She immediately felt herself blush.

Little bits of their days together surfaced in her mind at the most inopportune moments.

She forcefully chased that image away, serving herself bread and jam with a hefty dose of
butter.

"Hermione, can you hear me?"

She turned her own gaze to the redhead sitting across from her.
"Yes?"
"What happened to you? We knew you were in the infirmary but they wouldn't let us visit
you, they said you were in isolation."

Hermione nearly choked on a piece of bread, unable to hold back a smile at the relief she felt
realizing that no one knew how things had really gone.

"Yes," she said, downing a mouthful. "Dragon pox."

"Terrible," affirmed Neville, sitting down next to Ginny. "My grandmother went through it."

"Heck, Hermione," continued the redhead. "And Malfoy was quarantined with you? He hasn't
been seen in days either…"

Instinctively Hermione brought her gaze to the opposite side of the room, scanning the
Slytherin table. However, she didn't find the usual grey eyes that were often pointed in her
direction: instead, she found the inquisitive gaze and wrinkled expression of Pansy's face.

What did she want now? Could it be that she had heard something?
It was a good thing Draco still hadn't come down for breakfast.

She should talk to him before he had the chance to tell anyone about what had happened.
They should agree on the version of events to offer to any curious onlookers who would ask
why both heads of the school had disappeared for days.

"Yes," she replied to Ginny, now convinced of this version of events.

"There was an incident with Hagrid's creatures during one of the evening patrols outside…"
she didn't like to lie, but sometimes it had felt necessary over the course of her life. This time,
even if there were no deadly dangers or dark threats on the horizon, was one of them.
No one would benefit from the truth.

The explanation seemed momentarily convincing, assuaging the curiosity of her housemates.

She breathed a sigh of relief and continued to devour her hearty breakfast, charging for the
busy day ahead of her: she had a week of classes and homework to catch up on, not to
mention her headgirl duties.

As if that wasn't enough, she had to deal with an awkward but necessary conversation with
the Slytherin, so that they would both tell the same version of the story.

Assuming he was okay with that. After all, what reason would he have to lie for her?

She tried to shake off all that unnecessary anxiety and worry.
She was going to confront and resolve everything.
It wasn't the worst thing that had happened to her.

The important thing now was to try to regain a sense of "normalcy".

She got up from the table when classes were about to start. She noticed Zabini's gaze fixed on
her, from the other end of the great hall, but she pretended to ignore it and went on her way.
Her interactions with Blaise, after the incident in the Slytherin common room, had become
purely academic.
They were working on their Healing Potion,
reducing any interaction to an absolute minimum.

The change in attitude on the boy's part had been abrupt and radical, but she had accepted it
overcome with embarrassment.

She wouldn't be able to explain what had happened the night of the party, and now more than
ever she was determined to keep her "problems" to herself.

She walked slowly.

It was still several minutes before class started, so she took her time walking to the dungeon,
looking around from time to time for a familiar silver halo that she never saw.

The Slytherin got out of bed when the sun was high in the sky.
He dressed as quickly as possible and ran in the direction of the potions classroom without
even passing through the great hall.

Once he reached the classroom he realized that he wasn't so late after all.
The first students had just started to arrive. Among them was, unfortunately, his irritating
potions partner, Antonhy Goldestein.

As soon as the ravenclaw walked in he glared at the blond, taking a seat in the desk next to
his and letting go, with excessive theatrics, of his own books on the table.

"Malfoy."

"Goldestein?"

"Where have you been?" blurted the Ravenclaw. "You disappeared during the most important
phase of our work. It was your idea to make the veritaserum, what the hell were you
thinking?"
He pulled out their cauldron, starting to arrange the various ingredients on the table.

Draco glanced at the potion inside, finding himself railing at his partner. Of course, in his
absence, he had missed a few key steps.
The liquid had taken on a darker color than expected, to fix it they would be at least another
two weeks behind schedule.

"Couldn't we just switch potions?" asked Goldestein running a hand through his hair.

"No," replied the Slytherin dryly.

The students were starting to arrive in large numbers now.

The lesson was going to start in a few minutes.

He tried to focus only on the ingredients in front of him, aware that she would soon be
walking through the door.
The best thing he could do was to stay away from her, as difficult as that was. He'd been
lucky not to have been expelled or dismissed from his role as headboy.

What had happened had been a mistake.

He was nothing more than that to her, a terrible mistake.

Blaise entered the classroom accompanied by a group of students among whom she was not
present.

The dark-haired boy approached his desk, giving him a scowl that rivaled the one the
Ravenclaw had given him only minutes before.

When Draco realized that his housemate had no intention of walking away, he looked up
from his own cauldron.

"What is it?" he asked his friend.

"We need to talk," replied Zabini.

"I'm listening."

"Not here".

The conversation stopped.

Three heads, those of Malfoy, Zabini, and Goldstein, turned in the direction of the door.
Hermione had arrived.

Blaise stepped away from the blond, taking a seat in the desk next to the Gryffindor's.

After a few seconds Professor Slughorn began the lesson, proceeding to supervise their work.

It was exhausting, and maintaining concentration became impossible.

In addition to his jealousy towards Blaise, to make things even more irritating there was the
fact that Zabini, unlike Goldestein, had brilliantly carried on the potion during the week
Hermione had been away.

He couldn't help but overhear Professor Slughorn warmly congratulating them on their
progress.

"My compliments, guys," the elderly wizard had said. "You have chosen a very ambitious
potion and are progressing brilliantly"

"Thank you, Professor," the headgirl replied.

"You two make a great team," were Slughorn's last words, before proceeding to the next pair.

Words that lead the blond to slaughter the mugwort he had in his hands out of nervousness.

He couldn't help but eavesdrop on the conversation between Hermione and Blaise.
"Zabini," the girl said, hesitantly. "Thank you for working on on your own while I wasn't
here"

"It's my project too, Granger," the Slytherin replied.

"I know, but I'm sorry you had to do all the work, I'll take care of it this week."

Zabini set his knife aside, momentarily interrupting his work. "It's okay, Hermione," he said
firmly.

"Actually, I was worried for you. Where have you been?"

Draco remained motionless, straining his ears.

"In the infirmary" Hermione replied. "Dragon pox."

Very clever, Hermione. Ten points to Gryffindor, he thought.

Zabini didn't respond to her explanation, resuming his work.

The lesson proceeded thus in relative silence.When the two hours of class were finally over,
Draco breathed a sigh of relief, happy to have Goldstein out of his air.

He was now ready to go to the great hall and face the thousands of questions that Pansy
would surely ask him.

Infirmary, dragon pox.

Simple, believable, concrete.

Hermione quickly dismissed Blaise, waiting for Draco to leave the classroom so she could
talk to him.

It was now or never.

It wasn't the case to let more time pass and risk the most disparate rumors to start running
around the school.

She flanked him as he was about to exit the classroom.

"Malfoy," she said shyly, starting to walk alongside him down the hallway while the students
slowly dispersed.

Draco didn't turn to look at her for even a moment, making her feel more uncomfortable than
ever.

After a few steps down the hallway, the girl interrupted his walk, forcing him to stop. "Can
we talk?" she asked.
She pointed to an empty classroom, inviting the boy in and closing the door a moment later.

Draco didn't spare her a glance when they were alone, heading straight to the window and
looking out in a daze.

Confused and nervous, Hermione remained silent for several seconds. She lost herself
looking at the outline of the young man's back muscles, so thick that they were visible despite
his sweater.

"What did you have to tell me?" the boy asked eagerly, taking a deep breath and turning in
her direction.

Hermione found herself aroused. Her heart was racing with desire, her hands trembling. She
tried to remember why she was there.

She leaned against the door, on the opposite end of the room from him. She wiped her sweaty
palms against her skirt.

"I wanted to talk to you about what happened…" she said.

The young man turned back to the window. Hermione's resolve and conviction wavered.
Could he not even look at her now?

She tried to correct herself. "I'd like to ask you a favor, actually. I know I have no right to do
it. You don't owe me anything, and I'm really sorry about what happened…"

The Slytherin immediately turned around, sensing her extreme agitation.

"Tell me," he replied, trying to keep his tone neutral, not to sound desperate.

Anything. Anything for you. Anything you need, anything you want, ask and I'll get it for
you.

His brain was totally lost and addicted to her mere presence. He put his hands in his pockets,
clenching his fists in an attempt to hold back the instinct screaming to get closer to her.

"About our-" she hesitated, turning the edge of her sweater sleeve between her fingers
" -disappearance."

The Slytherin found it to be a sweet gesture and had to hold back a smile that broke out on
his lips.
"Yes?"

"I told Ginny and Neville that I had dragon pox. I don't want to ask you to lie for me, but-"

"All right," he replied immediately. "Is that all?"

The girl looked up from the sleeve of her sweater and their eyes met for a second. "I
mentioned that there was an incident with one of Hagrid's creatures, during the evening
patrol".
"That's fine."

He only wished to get out of that room now. He could feel her arousal grow and he knew he
wouldn't be able to control himself much longer.

They remained silent.

Draco turned away from the window and headed for the door, holding his breath as he
approached her. His hand was already on the doorknob when she called out to him.

"Malfoy?" she said.

The young man opened the door, taking in a breath of fresh air, trying to rid his nostrils of the
smell of her body so invitingly close. He looked at her, one foot already out of the classroom.

"Thank you," she replied.

"There's nothing you have to thank me for," he told her, leaving the classroom as quickly as
he could.

Still aroused about his brief encounter with Hermione, the Slytherin joined his friends in the
Great Hall for lunch.

He was aware that sooner or later he would have to deal with Pansy and Theo's intrusiveness,
so he tried to arm himself with as much patience as he could, repeating Hermione's words in
his mind.

Dragon pox, Hagrid, night patrol.

"Long time no see," Theo told him as soon as he took his seat at the table.

Strangely enough, Pansy didn't speak. She simply stared at him with one of her usual
inquisitive looks.

Forcing himself to ignore her, he began to put on his plate generous portions of everything on
the table.

After a few minutes Blaise joined them as well.

"What's up man? " said Theo. "Are you going to tell us what happened to you or do you
really want me to ask?"

The blond rolled his eyes.

Unlike Hermione, he was good at lying and had no qualms about doing it.

He served himself his second helping of potatoes, beginning to act his part. "I've been in the
infirmary, dragon pox."
"Disgusting," Theo replied.
"Are you sure you're not contagious anymore?"

Draco was about to respond with further provocation when Zabini stepped into the
conversation.

"And explain to me, Malfoy, how did dragon pox get here at Hogwarts?" Blaise's suspicious
tone set on an alarm bell in Draco.

"You know how Hagrid is, his creatures come from all over the world, they can bring
anything with them."

"Of course," hummed Blaise in a vague tone, serving himself a glass of pumpkin juice.
"Hermione got sick too, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"Well, it was very fortunate that they quarantined you in time and the virus didn't spread…"

"Indeed" Draco had stopped eating by now, anxious about the turn the conversation was
taking.

"Could you imagine that?" said Zabini, engaging Theo and Pansy. "If it wasn't so, within a
few days the whole of Hogwarts would have been infected."

Pansy made a disgusted expression, while Theo laughed at her.

Neither of them noticed that Draco and Blaise were staring at each other blankly.

After that, lunch proceeded relatively quietly, until it was time for the afternoon lessons to
start.

"Malfoy," Blaise said as they stood up. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

Under Pansy's curious gaze the two boys walked away, leaving the great hall and settling in a
lightly trafficked corner of the corridor.

Tension and anxiety were growing in Draco's chest. He could feel bile rising up his gullet,
anger and nervousness tangling his guts.

He remained silent, waiting for Zabini to speak first.

"Nasty thing, dragon pox."

His face was covered in a disgusting smirk, and Draco felt the uncontrollable instinct to
punch him.

"What do you want, Zabini?"

"Her," the dark-haired boy replied dryly.

"You'd better explain." The tension had now become palpable. Draco's heart was rebelling
against his ribcage.

"Granger" Blaise sounded unusually nonchalant. "I know what she is".

"You don't know a damn thing."

"Oh, do you think so?" the smirk on his lips grew even wider. "Do you really think I'm
buying the smallpox story? I know full well how you spent the last week".

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I've been suspecting it for weeks now, but your sudden disappearance has confirmed it to
me. I wonder what poor old Lucius will think about it".

"Stop it," the blonde threatened him.

"I hope you at least enjoyed yourself. From the smell of sex emanating from Granger's body
I'd say you did."

Draco's face was now red with anger. He couldn't help himself. He pushed him.

Zabini's back hit the wall, but no one noticed.

Unperturbed, he continued.
"Yet you didn't bite her…curious."

"What do you want, Blaise?" interrupted the blond, tired of these games.

"Isn't it obvious?"

"She's mine."

"I don't think so," he laughed. "You didn't bite her. You should have taken advantage of her
when she was in heat. But you didn't. Afraid of disappointing daddy?"

Malfoy remained silent.

"You know Draco, unlike you I might actually have a chance with her. My mother would be
more than happy to know that her dear son has found an omega all to himself, and my family
name would be resurrected. On the other hand, your parents would never approve. Her blood
is not, how shall I put it…to their liking."

"You're missing a step, Zabini" Draco's anger was so strong that he felt he could stun him
without his wand.

"What makes you think she wants that?"

Zabini laughed, loudly.

"Want it? Do you think she will have any choice once she's in heat again? She'll jump on the
first alpha she comes across.
This time that alpha will be me.
And unlike you, Malfoy, I'm going to make sure she's mine forever."
 Chapter 13
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

June 16, 1992

The school year had just ended and a small and still innocent Draco had gotten off the train
disappointed: Slytherin hadn't won the house cup, which had been blown from under their
nose by the Gryffindors.

And not just any Gryffindors, but them.

The very three of them.

Ever since they had become symbiotic he had begun to harbor a strange feeling of dislike
towards them.
On the one hand there was Potter, who had rejected him at the beginning of the year: a cold
shower for the eleven-year-old Draco Malfoy, used to get everything he wanted.

Then, on the other and, there was her. Her, that witch with whom the rivalry had begun
between the train cars.
He had tried so hard, and yet he had not been able to surpass her in any subject. Always
second, always one step behind.

And Weasley? Perhaps, though he didn't realize it yet, he envied him. He envied his best
friends, the adventures he got caught up in.
He was jealous.
Jealous because he would have liked to belong to that trio as well.

"Draco" his father didn't lower himself to hug him as soon as he stepped off the train, merely
grabbing his hand and apparating at the gates of the Manor.

That, after his first year, was the summer that marked the person he would become for all the
years that followed.

July 31, 1992

"I find it absurd Cissa," Lucius said, sipping his afternoon tea under the sun that illuminated
the Manor gardens.
"The story of that mudblood stinks to me, Dumbledore's hand is in it. It was definitely a
political move making her first in her class."

"Lucius, please" insisted Narcissa, looking around suspiciously.

Draco hid behind a rose bush just in time.

"The world isn't what it was ten or twenty years ago. Things have changed since that child-"
"Yes, that halfblood-"

"I'd appreciate it if we didn't talk about it, Lucius," the woman's hands shook, forcing her to
set down her cup of tea.

"Whose side are you on, Narcissa?"

"You know how I feel about it. I don't care who his parents were, he's just an orphaned child,
about the age of our Draco."

With those words she stood up, leaving the man alone.

August 28, 1992

Fluorish and Blotts' store was crowded as he walked in with his father to purchase the endless
list of books for his second year.

Despite the crowd, his view caught Hermione's unmistakable wild hair.

She was with two people, probably her parents.

They were smiling, looking happy.

So this is what Muggles look like?

They looked like normal people, not too different from all the adult people he had met
throughout his life.
Then he saw her running up to Weasley. They hugged warmly as their parents greeted each
other.

Suddenly he felt alone.

His father had momentarily walked away, abandoning him with his list of books.
He looked around, wishing he could spot some of his classmates to chat with, but there was
no one there for him.

The only thing he saw was Potter adding himself to Granger and Weasley's embrace.

Disgusted, he took refuge in the back of the shop, waiting for his father to return. At that
moment he felt hatred for them.

He hated that they were so happy.

They were laughing, what the hell were they laughing about?

March 2, 1994

She had slapped him.

Could he say he'd seen it coming? He wasn't sure.

He didn't know what had gotten into him.

He had seen her running towards him and hadn't found the strength to move.
He just stood there, freezed, untile he felt her small hand collide with his cheek.

The image of her in that moment was now firmly impressed in his mind.

Her face was red, her eyes were on fire, her hair reflected all the rage in her features, running
wild all around her face.

Try as he might, in the weeks that followed he couldn't remove that image of her from his
mind. It haunted him, day and night.

He couldn't concentrate, couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes he saw
Hermione's ones, burning with rage.

Three weeks had passed since the incident, but that damned mudblood didn't hint at letting
him go.

Still thinking about her, he soaked in a hot shower after an intense Quidditch practice. He was
desperate to beat Gryffindor's team in that weekend's match.
He wanted to wipe that damn smile off her face, he wanted revenge for the humiliation he
had suffered.
Insulting her was no longer enough: he wanted more, he wanted to see her furious again.

The steam and hot water were intoxicating, relaxing his aching muscles.
The drops gently ran down his back, caressing and enveloping him.

She was there, imprinted in his mind with her damn fiery eyes and her fucking redness that
extend from her cheeks to her collarbones.
Or at least, that was the extent to which her buttoned shirt had allowed him to see.

And now he wondered what lay beyond.

To what extent did she turn red when she was angry?

There was something strange about her skin, about the way it reflected her emotions.
Where was the limit?
How much did he have to make her angry to see the redness extend to her chest?

He started breathing fast.

And what if she had been embarrassed? Would her cheeks turn the same shade of red?
What if she had goosebumps?
What would her skin look like when something made her shiver?

Lost in these thoughts, he felt a tension grow at the base of his abdomen.

It was a new sensation.

Hiding from himself, he indulged the instinct that suggested him to relieve that tension,
gripping his own member in his hands, thinking of her: Hermione Granger.
1998

The month of October passed like a slow, interminable agony for the boy.
Every day the distance from Hermione weighed like a boulder on his chest.

In the three weeks they had shared the dormitory he had gotten used to having her scent
around.
Now that she was gone he felt a huge, deep emptiness inside of him.

Something was missing, and although he knew exactly what it was, there was nothing he
could do to ease his pain.

Being away from Hermione, on the other hand, was the lesser of the evils.

What took his sleep away was mostly the conversation he had with Blaise: fear, anxiety,
anger, apprehension. All emotions that wouldn't leave him, forcing him to spend sleepless
nights worried about the safety and security of the Gryffindor.

He had to talk to her, that would be the best, most logical thing to do.
But why would she believe him?

As autumn progressed, the days became gray and gloomy. Interactions between him and
Blaise dwindled to nothing, limited to exchanges of threatening glances when they happened
to meet during classes. They no longer sat together in the Great Hall, prompting concern and
a thousand questions from Pansy and Theo, which Draco ignored.

He thought he had figured out Blaise's plan: he would take advantage of Hermione while she
was in heat.

However, if he had done his calculations right, her next heat period would happen during the
Christmas vacations.

A part of himself, perhaps a little too optimistic, tried to self-soothe by repeating that surely
Hermione would be back with her family by Christmas, in the Muggle world.

Blaise certainly wouldn't find her there, would he?

Another thought knocking on his mind, more and more frequently as time went on, was the
fact that he hadn't heard from his parents.

McGonagall had told him that they had been informed of the incident.
Had they had nothing to say?
He had received no message from them, no letter, nothing at all.

Evidently the news had left them speechless.

Their beloved son had found an omega, but not just any omega, a mudblood. And not just
any mudblood, but the heroine Hermione Granger, Potter's faithful right-hand man.
He tried to imagine his parents' possible reactions to the news and didn't know whether to
feel amused or frightened.

The days continued to go by inexorably, but his feelings were not in the least affected by the
passing of time.
His efforts were futile: no matter what he did, he couldn't keep himself away from Hermione.

Without realizing it, after a while, he even stopped trying.

He followed her from classroom to classroom, according to her schedule.

His eyes were perpetually on her, watching her from the opposite end of the Great Hall
during meal times. And when she ducked into the library, he would sit a few feet away,
hiding in a secluded corner or behind some large bookshelf.
His emotions were now out of control.

He was no longer able to distinguish where the alpha ended and Draco Malfoy began.

Maybe the border wasn't as sharp, maybe the hormones weren't as guilty as he had imagined.

November 7, 1998

Hermione left the library earlier than usual that day.

It was stronger than him.

A strange feeling, or maybe it was just a morbid sense of protection, forced him to get up and
follow her, walking slowly and keeping his distance so as not to be noticed.

He tried to blend in with the crowd of students flooding the hallway, almost all heading to
their dorms.
However it wasn't as easy as he remembered getting lost in the confusion.

Hormones, though they may have played a dubious role in his infatuation with Hermione,
had had an undeniable effect on his physique: after the growth of the last summer his head
stuck out more than twenty centimeters above the average height of the students.

He tried to keep his distance, practically crawling against the walls, taking advantage of the
armor that lined the side of the hallway to hide.

Hermione reached the stairs, turning toward a lightly trafficked corner.

Where was she going? It looked like the road leading to the infirmary.

He stopped at the corner she had turned at, peeking at where the girl was headed. He saw her
knocking on a small door on the right, entering a moment later.

He looked around, making sure no one had noticed him, then continued down the narrow side
corridor and settled behind the door through which Hermione had disappeared.

He had a bad feeling about this.

There was nothing unusual about what he had seen so far, yet his heart was beating faster
than usual. Bile was building up in his stomach and threatening to rise up his esophagus.

He took a series of deep breaths, pressing himself against the cold stone wall and moving his
ear closer to the door. Although no one had placed spells to silence the room, he could only
make out disconnected phrases of what was going on inside.

"… blood sample… more tests…."

"Whatever is necessary. As for the potion…" it was Hermione's voice. He recognized it

clearly. It was as if his eardrums had a specific frequency dedicated to her.

"It's not prudent- …exceeded dosage…side effects…"

"I really need it. This-" she sighed. She seemed to be struggling. She was in pain, he could
hear it in her voice.
His protective instincts turned on. He wanted to walk into that room, ask her what the
problem was and then move the whole world to solve it.

"-thing" the girl continued "is unbearable, perennial."

"Granger" the voice was now closer.

It was a male voice, he recognized it. Magnus.
The blood boiled in his veins from the sudden anger.

"The solution is easier than you thinks to ease this…pain."

"But it's an invasive procedure, and if it goes wrong-" the girl replied decisively.

"The risk is minimal. Think about it" the man interrupted.

"If there is nothing else, I will see you next week for further examination".

With the heart in his throat, Draco quickly skidded toward the hallway from which he had
come. He ducked around the corner.

He heard the door close and Hermione's tiny footsteps move down the hallway, almost totally
muffled by the deafening pounding of his own heart.

He was no longer himself. He didn't know what had happened and he wasn't sure what he had
heard. Yet a voice in his head screamed insistently that there was something deeply wrong
with all of this.

Worse, something dangerous.

That man was hiding something. He had known it from the first moment he saw him.

It was obvious that his intentions were anything but noble.

Hermione was getting closer and closer to where he was hidden.

He lost control.

Hermione suddenly found herself in front of Draco Malfoy.

She jumped in fright. She hadn't seen him coming, she thought she was alone.

What was he doing here? Had he followed her?

She didn't have time to wonder further: he grabbed her arm.

The mere contact with his skin ignited all the thoughts she was trying with all her strength to
repress.

After grabbing her, without a word, Draco dragged her down the hallway, opening the first
door that came in his path and dragging her inside before she could oppose.

She found herself in a broom closet.

Brooms of every color and length, old and dusty, lay abandoned on the walls of the small
room.

After briefly scanning her surroundings, her eyes fell on Draco's hand, still firmly wrapped
around her forearm.
The young man's eyes followed hers, settling on her arm a second later.

At that moment he recoiled, snapping quickly backwards as if she was burning up.
His back hit the brooms leaning against the wall, which fell to the floor in a great clatter.

"What's going on, Granger?" the boy asked, heedless of the mess he had created. There was
no gentleness in his voice, only nervousness, a strange agitation that she could not
understand.

"What are you referring to-"

"Magnus. What does he want from you?" his pupils were dilated and an artery on his neck
pulsed as he clenched his jaw.

Hermione peered at him in puzzlement. Had he heard her conversation?

Why was he suddenly nervous?

She didn't know how to describe it, but the reaction he was causing in her with this attitude
was the last thing she needed right now.
He knew what she was.
He knew he should stay away from her.
Why was he so close?

"Are you following me?" she asked, focusing on a fixed spot on the floor, straining not to
look at him, not to breathe in his scent, not to think about his firm grip from moments before,
his hands…
"Hermione, please" his tone of voice had changed, slightly quieter. However, his body
betrayed that vain attempt to appear nonchalant.

"What's the matter?" she asked, suddenly concerned at the boy's strange apprehension. She
hadn't seen Draco Malfoy this flustered and frightened since the days when they were in their
sixth year, and that story hadn't ended on the best of terms…

The young man let go a sigh full of hurt and frustration. He leaned against the opposite wall,
running a hand through his hair.

Hermione tried hard not to notice the way his powerful shoulders broadened every time he
inhaled.
Instead, she started scrutinizing her own shoes, looking in them for a spot of chalk, some dirt
brought in from the yard, some hair left behind by Crookshanks: anything to focus her
attention on other than the boy standing in front of her.

"I don't trust that man," the Slytherin replied dryly, suddenly catching Hermione's curiosity.

"Why?"

Draco ignored her question. "Why were you with him?"

"You shouldn't answer a question with another question, Malfoy," retorted Hermione, in the
occasionally childish, knowitall voice she used to drum Harry and Ron with during their
endless study sessions.

"It's complicated, Granger," blurted him.

"He's helping me," Hermione replied promptly. The air in the small room was starting to
become stifling; she longed to leave. She needed a cold shower.

"With what?"

"With what?!!" the words left her mouth before she could modulate the volume of her voice.
"You're kidding, right?" now she was the furious one.
She took a step forward, approaching him. "I think you know, Malfoy, what's happening to
me," her eyes were on fire.

Draco knew that look, knew it too well. It was stored in a dark corner of his memory. He
made to open his mouth to speak, but the girl interrupted him.

"Now you'd better explain to me why you think I shouldn't trust him, or this conversation is
over. I need his help," she blurted, with frustration growing in her voice. "I need to find out
why this happened to me. I'm proud to be a muggleborn. It took me years to fully accept my
origins, and now that I've finally succeeded I find out that I could be a pureblood, that I could
have some descendants in the magical world, maybe not even too far away". Her gaze
suddenly became sadder as she continued.

"And maybe there's still a family waiting for me out there."

Draco was shaken by the girl's words, and the sudden sadness in her eyes was like a stab in
his chest. He made to move closer.
"Hermione".

The girl blocked him with a wave of her hand. The sadness in her gaze vanished as quickly as
it had appeared.

"No Malfoy," she said, taking a step back. "All right."

The boy was confused.

"Know what? I'll trust you. I'll watch out for Magnus, is that all?"

Now he was more confused than ever. She seemed to be doing everything she could to
dismiss him and leave.

Hermione caught the confusion in the young man's expression. "I owe it to you, Malfoy. I
never apologized to you…for…for assaulting you…."

Draco was now totally taken aback, while the girl, albeit with some hesitation, continued.

"And I never thanked you for the self-control you showed, despite the situation. For these
reasons I think that it would be fair of me to value your opinion."
She concluded her speech with a forced smile, as if closing a deal.

She walked past him and headed for the door. "Is there anything else you need to tell me?"
She asked, her hand on the handle and the door already half-open.

Draco's arm suddenly snapped forward. The door slammed shut under the weight of his hand.

Hermione found herself cornered.

"Not so fast," he said.

The girl saw his icy eyes searching her face.

He was so close.

His gaze fell on her lips. Hermione turned her eyes upward, the only free direction she had
left, and began to count the cobwebs on the ceiling.

"Look at me," Draco repeated.

"Malfoy, what do you hope to accomplish…"

"What did you mean?"

"I'm not following," Hermione replied. He was too close, she was gasping for air.

"When you said you assaulted me."

He was getting closer and closer.
She looked for an escape route, finding none. "I… I'm sorry…" she gasped.

"For what?" Draco's voice was now deep, almost predatory.

Something inside him had clicked.

Hermione didn't know what had happened in the last thirty seconds that had caused that
reaction in him, but they were getting into a dangerous situation.

"You know it, Draco…" the girl said, straining to maintain her proud posture, to keep her
emotions from leaking out.

A strange smirk formed on the Slytherin's face.

God, how much he missed hearing his name come from her lips.

"Hermione," he said, speaking very slowly. "You didn't do anything, it was all my fault…"

The girl was ready to answer.

"No, it was me. You tried to back out, despite this thing…" she waved her hands in the small
space that was left between their bodies.
"And I took advantage of your hormones, and I'm sorry. I- I wasn't myself."

There were a few seconds of silence, filled only by Hermione's breaths getting heavier and
heavier.
Concerned by the boy's silence, she looked up at his face: his expression was indecipherable.

"And now you're you?" the young man asked, stepping forward and trapping her even more
between the wall, his body, and his own outstretched arm on the door.

"Wha- what?" stammered the girl.

"Unlike you, Granger, I've always been me" his lips came close to her neck, gently shaking
off a strand of her hair. "It's always been Draco" he whispered against her ear.

"M-Malfoy, we shouldn't-" said Hermione, as the boy's lips imperceptibly rested on her neck,
just below her ear.

"If you want me to stop just say so," he whispered.

Hermione remained silent.

Draco's breath on her neck sent a shiver running down her spine.
Five seconds passed, full of tension. Then he deposited another kiss on her neck.

"Stay with me, Hermione," he said, pronouncing her name with such emphasis that it made
the girl's knees tremble.

Another kiss, just under her chin.

Hermione let go a sigh.

He felt it, losing himself in it. He couldn't believe this was really happening.
His face went up along Hermione's neck.
They were face to face now, only a few inches separating their lips.
He moved closer and closer, until their lips were almost touching.

"Hermione" he called. His voice was deep.

He leaned his elbows against the wall, their bodies now pressed against each other. The only
distance between them were the few inches that separated their lips.

Consumed by that anticipation, it was Hermione who stepped forward, bringing her own lips
on his.

And although she had already kissed him before, this kiss was different, unlike any they had
ever shared.

No voice in her head screamed this time. There was only her, her body, and the sensations
Draco was making her feel.
There was no other place she wanted to be.

It was Draco who broke the contact first, parting and looking at her intently.

"Talk to me, Hermione… Please." He begged.

"Draco…."

The mere sound of his name was enough to make him lose control. His penis pulsed against
the zipper of his pants.
That was all he wanted to hear.
She hadn't called him alpha.
Draco.
She'd said Draco.
It was her.

He sighed against her lips. "Do you want me to touch you, Hermione?"

The girl nodded, as her own heart beat faster and faster.
The young man slid a hand down, brushing against the hem of her skirt. His fingers slowly
slipped underneath it, gently caressing her skin, the skin he had fantasized about for years.

He wanted to savour it, inch by inch.

He had been blinded by hormones when Hermione was in heat, and he hated himself for
doing things too quickly.

He wanted to explore her body slowly, to know every facet of her.

A light touch along her thigh was all he needed.
Finally he felt it: she had goose bumps.

This one moment alone would be enough to fuel his fantasies for the next six years. But he
wanted more. His fingers moved upward, caressing and grazing the inside of her soft leg.
His eyes were fixed on her face.
He wanted to savor her every reaction, to find out what made her sigh, what made her mouth
open wide, what made her bite her lips to keep from screaming.

Hermione felt her own knees weakening, her heart racing.

The light touch of Draco's fingers on her inner thigh had sent shivers down her spine.
The further his fingers went up on her tight, the more she could feel her arousal grow.

He was almost there. She bit her lip, holding back the instinct to move forward and meet his
hand.

When he reached the top of her tights, he stopped.

She could feel the heat emanating from his hand on her clit.

He waited a few second, savoring her deep breaths, then touched her imperceptibly with his
fingertips.

A moan remained stifled in the back of Hermione's throat.

The muscles of her belly twitched with anticipation and impatience.

After that, Draco's fingers finally rested on her clit, separated by the thin barrier of her
underwear.
He began to move them slowly, at an exhausting pace, sliding downward to where her arousal
was now dripping profusely.
With extreme slowness and gentleness, the Slytherin lightly peeled back that thin piece of
cloth, slipping two fingers underneath it and letting them slide through her entrance.

Hermione groaned. Her head fell back.

Draco's lips ventured to her neck.

"There's something you need to know" he said, panting against her neck as his fingers slid
inside her and his thumb tortured her clit. "I've always imagined this moment".

The girl gasped. She couldn't speak.

"For a long, long time." He began to move his fingers at an increasing pace.

"Look at me, Hermione, please" he begged.

The girl opened her eyes. The mere sight of his face made the orgasm grow inside her. His
blond hair was spread all around, disheveled by her own hands. His gray irises completely
obscured by his dilated pupils. His lips…

Hermione opened her mouth slightly.

"Yes, Hermione, like this" the young man continued. "I want to see you come, I want to see
your face contort with pleasure".
 His voice…
It was too much.

Hermione's vision fogged up. Her head fell back as her hands clenched tightly around Draco's
powerful arms, sinking her nails into his flesh through his sweater.

"That's it, Hermione, that's it" whispered Draco against her ear, as the girl was shaken by
contractions.

You are mine. Mine, and only mine.

He tried to silence those voices in his head.

Come for me. My little Omega…

Chapter End Notes

Today I woke up to a wonderful surprise: 10.000 hits.

I didn't expect this when I first started translating this story, it was more of an
experiment. I thought "let's see how it goes"
Thank you to everyone reading, commenting and leaving kudos.

From now on the chapters will be longer, so I think I won't be always able to post one
for day. Sometimes the update will be delayed of one day.

Hope you'll enjoy this chapter ❤

 Chapter 14
Chapter Notes

Hope you'll enjoy this chapter. I'm anxious to know what you think....

November 1994

"Hermione, who are you going to the ball with?"

Ever since she had announced that she had a date, Ron kept asking her that question.

"I won't tell you, you'd just make fun of me," Hermione merely replied.

"Are you kidding, Wealsey?" exclaimed Draco, suddenly appearing behind them.

He couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation.

Something clicked inside of him when he learned that Hermione had a date for the ball, and
that date wasn't one between Weasley and Potter.

He was sure she would go to the ball with Potter.

He couldn't tell where that conviction came from, but it was something so firmly established
in his mind that knowing it wouldn't be like that made him feel a strange sense of unease in
his stomach.

Who was she going with?

And why hadn't she told her friends?

He immediately wanted to know more. He needed to know…

"You mean someone invited her to the dance? The fanged mudblood?"

Harry and Ron turned furiously towards him, but Hermione ignored him, merely waving at
someone behind his back.

"Good evening Professor Moody," she exclaimed, without sparing him a glance.

Draco turned pale and jumped backwards.

He turned around: no one was there.
Moody was sitting at the teacher's table finishing his meal.

"You're a jumpy little ferret, aren't you, Malfoy?" said Hermione dismissively, walking away
laughing with her friends.
Salazar, he hated her.
He hated her with all of his being.
Most of all, he hated that she ignored him.

She just wasn't the same lately. She wasn't responding to his provocations, his taunts no
longer held any weight.

He wasn't okay with that, not at all.

He didn't want to be ignored.

He wanted to see her scream, he wanted to see her face turn red, he wanted to leave her
breathless, he wanted her heart to speed up for him, he wanted to see the fire in her eyes
again, with her pupils dilated and her obscene hair scattered all around.

December 25th, 1994

All dressed up, in his black velvet suit and with Pansy clinging to his arm, Draco made his
way to the Great Hall.

He was dying of curiosity to find out who Hermione's mysterious date was. Who on earth
could have invited her except Potter? That doubt had plagued him for weeks, and now he
would finally have an answer.

The fact that she wasn't Potter's date had made him lose sleep. He had always believed that
she had a crush on him, or he on her. They were always together, this year more than usual.

Besides, as much as it pained him to admit it, any girl would have wanted to show up at the
ball accompanied by a Triwizard champion.

As soon as he came down he saw the two Gryffondors, Potter and Weasley.

He wrapped an arm around Pansy's waist, scanning the entrance to the Great Hall for her…
but she wasn't there.

He discovered that the boys' two dates were the Patil twins.

Where the hell had she gone?

Maybe she won't show up.

Maybe it was all a lie.

No one had invited her, and she'd made up that story to spare herself a shred of dignity.

Maybe now she was in her room, alone, crying.

He felt relieved and annoyed at the same time. He wished she was there so he could provoke
her, tease her.

Professor McGonagall's voice shouted, "Champions here, please."

There was a murmur and a clatter of footsteps as everyone moved to make way for the
champions.

He could vomit at the thought that Potter would be among them.

If nothing else, at least, Granger wouldn't be making the big triumphant entrance at his side.

Still, he really wanted her to be there…. His fancy dress, his perfectly arranged hair, the way
he held Pansy: it was all to impress her.

He wanted to be seen. He wanted her to see him like this.

The fact that she wasn't there, the knowledge that she wasn't going to show up, made all his
efforts suddenly futile.

He walked with Pansy and a group of Slytherins into the great hall. They settled in one of the
tables, waiting for the ridiculous parade of the champions to begin.

The doors opened: Fleur Delacour entered accompanied by an incredulous Roger Davis.
Pansy grimaced as she passed, whispering something in Daphne's ear.

Diggory followed with Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw seeker.

Potter closed the line, accompanied by one of the Patil twins, he couldn't tell which one.

Between Potter and Diggory, Krum made his entrance, but Draco didn't even pay attention to
him.

"But that is-" Pansy's shocked tone was enough to pique his curiosity.

And that's when he realized: the girl who had made her entrance next to Viktor Krum wasn't
just any french girl, it was her. It was Hermione.

She wore a dress of a soft periwinkle blue fabric.

Her face was colored a gorgeous shade of pink.

But it wasn't makeup. It wasn't the same contrived, fictitious color he could see on Pansy's
cheeks.

It was an imperceptible shade, a slight middle ground between the blush that took over when
she was furious and her natural color.
It wasn't makeup, it was excitement.

Her smile was wide open, her face enchanted to admire him: Krum.

And the worst thing, of all, was the fact that she passed in front of him without even sparing
him a glance.

In that moment he wished more than ever to insult her, to put a curse on her, to blow up the
great hall.
Anything, as long as she stopped ignoring him.
But he did nothing.
He just stood there, motionless. The words he wanted to spew at her couldn't reach his
mouth.
She had done something to her hair.
They were straight and shiny, tied in a neat knot at the back of her head, not the usually wild
and curly mess.

That was, despite all his efforts, the only defect he could find in her that night.

Hermione opened her eyes, still shaken from her recent orgasm. She could feel Draco's
arousal pressing against her leg, rubbing hard against her with ever increasing pressure. She
wished she could go along with that pressure….

Then he suddenly parted from her lips, resting his forehead against hers, panting heavily. One
hand was still between her legs, while the other encircled her side, pinning her to the wall.

His grip was firm and strong, his fingers were sinking into her flesh. She only realized this
now, as she slowly recovered. He would leave a mark, but she didn't care….

She liked it that way. She liked it when he lost control, she liked it….

She wanted more.

"Hermione." Draco's voice was hoarse and deep, and the sound of her name left his lips laden
with frustration and something else…

"I have to go," he said, separating himself from her and disappearing through the door before
she had a chance to stop him.

She stood there, motionless, for several minutes, leaning heavily against the wall until she
found the strength to stand on her own two feet.

God, what had just happened? Her mind worked to process the recent events, trying to figure
out how she had ended up in a broom closet with Draco Malfoy's hands up her skirt.

Her vision became blurry. She opened the door and took a few steps into the thankfully
deserted hallway. Her heart was still racing. And her legs…

She needed to stop by her dorm and change as soon as possible.

One step at a time.

Between her conversation with Magnus and the sudden encounter with the Slytherin, her
brain had far too much information to process.

She stopped to change herself before heading to the dungeon for her afternoon potion work
with Blaise.

The boy was already waiting for her when she walked in, harried by the rush.
All the ingredients had been laid out on the table, the cauldron already simmering.
Hermione looked at her watch: she was late, of course.

As soon as she stepped into the classroom, she noticed that the boy grimaced.
Mortified, she apologized for being late and started working.

Interactions between her and Blaise weren't of the warmest recently. However, on this
particular day, the Slytherin appeared unusually tense.

She tried her best not to mind, blaming it on her tardiness. She began to attend to her work,
immersing herself in the art of preparation and clearing her mind of all the thoughts and
doubts that oppressed her.

She had time for those; she would head to the library right after dinner to investigate her
doubts on that man.

She turned the potion five times counterclockwise, double-checking the instructions to make
sure the next step was correct: mashing the soporific beans.

She leaned over Blaise's side of the table to grab the knife and the cutting board.

Her arm brushed against the young man's hand.

In that moment Blaise let go of what was in his hand, suddenly grabbing her forearm and
crushing it against the table. Hermione felt her own bones press at a painful angle against the
wood of the counter.

She turned around, looking into the boy's face: his eyes looked possessed.

She tried to retreat, but his grip was too strong.

"Blaise… What…"

The boy suddenly let go of her.

Hermione retracted her hand, holding it against her own chest.

She lowered her gaze to her forearm. Red fingerprints furrowed her skin where Blaise's
fingers had gripped her tightly.

She was about to open her mouth when, still looking at her arm, she heard the boy's footsteps
moving away.
She looked up: Blaise was in the doorway.

"Not much left to do. Will you finish for the day, Granger?"

Before she had a chance to answer, the Slytherin left the room, slamming the door violently.

Hermione took a deep breath, continuing to clutch her own arm.

Godric, what had just happened?

She concluded her work, still shaken by chills, hoping that there would be no further
surprises for the day.

Having suddenly lost her appetite, she opted for a sandwich on the fly as she made her way to
the library.

She was eager to do some research. The conversation with Draco, if conversation could be
called it, had set on an alarm bell within her.

Why was he so eager to communicate to her his doubts about Magnus?

What did he care?

It's always been me.

She shook her head as a chill ran down her skin. She crossed her arms, holding them against
her chest and letting her hands caress her above the sweater, trying to tamp down that feeling
and chase those thoughts away.

Now her priority was to read up on what Magnus had told her about.

She would have done it anyway.

Draco's strange apprehension had only increased her anxiety to get into research as soon as
possible.

In the days that followed her heat she had accepted the man's strange curiosity about her
condition. She herself was intrigued and wished to know more.

However, she had to admit that he hadn't then offered much help to actually try to improve
her situation.

McGonagall had allowed him to stay at Hogwarts, shadowing Madam Pomfrey in the
infirmary, so that he could be there in case any problems arose with her or the other alphas.

He himself had insisted on getting that position, arguing that the presence of an omega in a
school environment was a strong element of instability for the biology of all the other boys.

But now, a month and a half later, she had to admit that she was pretty much back to square
one.
Everything she had learned about her condition had come from library books.

For the first few weeks the man had done nothing but ask her for blood samples, for
analytical purposes.

Hermione had of course agreed, eager to find out what would come back from the analysis.
She was eager to know the discoveries he would make about her genome. What was it,
imprinted in her gene sequence, that made her so special.

But after weeks he always came back with no answers, asking for samples for more tests.
After her blood, he had moved on to hair, nails.

After three weeks he had brought her a potion, which he claimed was meant to alleviate the
perennial sense of excitement she felt, and also help her go more unnoticed in the presence of
other alphas.

Had it worked? Not too much, she would say. She hadn't noticed any difference in herself.
Maybe she could have asked someone, some boy, if they noticed, maybe Malfoy…

Then the man had dared to ask for a sample of her vaginal discharge, a request to which she
had steadfastly objected.

But the thing that triggered her concern was his talk of the past two weeks.

He had started talking about a strange process, a "resection." He claimed it would allow her
to get rid of her condition. It consisted of a kind of surgery: they would remove the glands
located in her neck, along with her ovaries.

They would then perform a sort of spell on her reproductive organ, removing the cells
responsible for hormone production and then replanting them so that she could preserve her
fertility.

To say she was skeptical would be an understatement.

In the last period the man had become particularly insistent with this story, and it was this, on
second thought, that set on an alarm bell in her.

She had never hinted that she wanted to get rid of this condition of hers, only that she wanted
to control it.

She wasn't ready yet to get married and "bond" so permanently to someone, but that didn't
mean she would never be.

She could offer a change, she could be the image of a revolution in the magical world,
offering the possibility of a different future for all the young omegas of the world.

Not to mention the way the man spoke to her about the possible complications.

"…and the risk is minimal."

"Yes," Hermione insisted, "but what would that entail?"

"But it's rare, the last case where it occurred was a century and a half ago, today's
procedures are definitely more advanced-"

"Tell me about it," repeated the girl.

The man huffed, almost annoyed. Without looking at her face, he began to move a set of
paperwork across the desk.
"Often in the body of an omega it can happen that magic and hormones are closely
interconnected. From the moment of transformation, magic feeds the biological process, and
vice versa. But yours is a unique case, Miss Granger, totally on its own."

The girl was confused, her mind racing, processing that new information.

"Have you noticed any changes in your magic lately?" the man raised an eyebrow, circling
his desk predatorily, moving closer.
"Increased strength, by any chance? Does your wand always respond correctly?"

Hermione looked down at her own hands, frowning and trying to process the questions she
had been asked. Had she noticed any differences? She couldn't really tell… Maybe… "I have
to go now," she said to the man, gathering her things and starting towards the door.

"I'll see you again next week," Magnus stated, with all too much haste.

"Um… Yeah, okay," Hermione replied, throwing open the door and catapulting into the
hallway.

She turned among the library shelves, unsure which section she should start her research
from.

The books on alpha and omega biology, which she knew by heart now, did not mention any
operations of that kind.

For this reason she decided to start her research from the section on magical medicine,
heading for the bookshelfs at the end of the library.

She picked up several books, paying particular attention to what Magnus had said: about a
century and a half ago a woman had lost her magic to such an operation.

She took care to collect medical manuals and biographies of healers that covered a span of
about two hundred years. After collecting as many books as she could, she took a seat at one
of the many empty tables. The library was deserted: it was dinner time, and most of the
students didn't waste too much time on books before curfew unless there were upcoming
exams.
She began to read, enjoying the silence and the quiet.

The hours passed. Curfew was approaching.

Her eyes were beginning to feel tired, and she still hadn't found anything. She opened the
third manual, deciding that she would not go to sleep until she found something.

She began flipping through the pages, covering her mouth to hide a yawn

The book was a collection of the biographies and medical exploits of a number of healers
who had worked in the late 1700s and early 1800s.

She passed over several pages and chapters, also finding various references to diseases
typical of the Muggle world.
She was about to give up and move on to the next volume when, towards the last pages,
something caught her attention.

A yellowed image portrayed two men wearing scrubs, smiling. Imprinted in small letters,
under the photograph, was written.

Helge Doppler and his assistant Albert Niewald, 1807.

Niewald.

She turned the page, continuing to read.

Luminaries in the world of magi-medicine for successfully completing a magical transfer

operation.

Magical Transfer… In the upper left corner was the photograph of two women.

Mary and Catherine Bennet, the protagonists of the story.

She read the medical report describing the operation.

The two women, mother and daughter, approached Dr. Doppler to investigate why the
young Catherine had not manifested the omega trait like her mother, Mary. After several
inconclusive attempts to make the trait appear in the young girl, including countless blood
transfusions, Doppler's young assistant healer, Albert Niewald, proposed a revolutionary
intervention to the two women.

On July 15th, 1807, mother and daughter underwent the operation, which they performed
under the supervision of numerous healers from all over Britain.
The mother's glands, still proliferating as she was in her fertile period, were taken and
implanted in the young woman's neck, under the edge of the subclavian artery. The glands
were connected with the nerve endings coming from the cervical sympathetic ganglion,
ensuring a proper communication with the autonomic nervous system.

Uterus and ovary were removed from the mother's body and transferred to the young girl.
The operation was successful: the omega character was transferred from the mother to the
daughter, as declared by the women themselves.
According to the predictions of the healer Doppler, the trait should be preserved in the
woman for the next 10/15 years, i.e. the years of fertility that remained to the mother.

However the assistant, the young Niewald, believes that the trait will be able to feed itself
thanks to the magic contained in the blood of the young woman, allowing her to preserve it
for the entire duration of her fertile period.

The article ended there.

Hermione flipped through the pages insistently, looking for something else. Anything.

She needed to know more.

Suddenly forgetting about sleep and tiredness, she consulted the other volumes she had taken
with her, many of them quite recent, looking for operations under the name of Magical
Transfer.

Her eyelids were about to get heavy again when she finally found it: in a very recent volume,
dating back to the late '80s.

It was a sort of forensic medicine manual, very similar to the big tomes she used to find in
her parents' study, full of yellowed pages and written in tiny letters.

The entry "Magic Transfer" was within a paragraph entitled: Procedures Not Approved by the
MHGO (Magic Healt Global Organization) in the Territory of Great Britain.

The paragraph referred to the surgery she had read about in the previous volume.

After the feat concluded in 1807 by Drs. Doppler and Niewald, several healers throughout
the country began to practice such an operation. The consequences were disastrous. The
operations reported a lethality rate of 45%, while women subjected to removal lost their
magic within a few months in a percentage of 86.7%. For these reasons, the operation was
deemed risky and ruled illegal by a unanimous vote of the MHGO committee.

Her heart began to race. She placed a hand on her chest, trying to regularize her breathing.

Draco was right, she shouldn't trust this man.

He had warned her.

She needed to talk to him as soon as possible.

With slightly trembling hands and weak knees, she stood up from the library table, carrying
the two volumes she had found interesting information on.

She headed for the door, stopping abruptly in the doorway. With all the information she had
uncovered, she had forgotten that there was also another piece of research she had to attend
to.

She took a few steps back, going backwards through the shelves and examining the titles
until she found it: Magical Genealogy of the United Kingdom from 1500 to the Present.

It would be fine to start with. If she had any magical descendants, she would find them there,
or at least she hoped so.

She stuffed this last book into her bag and set out for her own dormitory. It was going to be a
long night.

A few hours earlier.

Draco had to gather all his strength to find the courage to break away from Hermione.
It had been the right choice, he kept telling himself. If he hadn't stopped in time…. A few
more minutes and he wouldn't have had the strength to stop.

He didn't want that part of him, that primal, animalistic instinct, to take over. He feared what
he might do to her: hurt her, or worse, bite her.

He was furious at what he had heard from her conversation with Magnus: his alpha instincts
had taken hold of him, leading him to find himself alone with her in a broom closet.

What an idiot… He ran a hand through his hair as he made his way to the courtyard outside,
craving some fresh air. He thought back to Hermione's words, to the sadness that had
appeared on her face. It triggered a new feeling inside him.
Suddenly the anger that had led him there vanished. It didn't matter anymore the reason why
he was angry. Nothing mattered if his omega wasn't happy….

And then…

Salazar, that girl in just five minutes had been able to trigger the most disparate emotions in
him.
Even with Voldemort within the walls of his home he had been able to maintain the barriers
of his occlumency.

But now a word or a look from Hermione Granger was enough to make him lose all his self
control.

Inside, however, he felt unjustifiably light and happy.

He had discovered that Hermione didn't hate him for taking advantage of her. Quite the
opposite, in fact.
She was convinced that she has been the one who….

He held back a smile at the thought.

She was the one who had completely lost her will due to hormones, not him.

However driven by hormones, he had always been there. He had wanted every single
moment, every second of what had happened.

He took a deep breath, taking in the cool autumn breeze that whipped across his face as soon
as he stepped outside.
He had to remain calm.

He'd lost control moments earlier when he'd cornered her, trapping her between his body and
the wall. Yet she hadn't look scared.

Draco…

He clenched his fists, starting to cross the courtyard in wide strides.

What if she actually liked him?

Maybe he could try, stealing these moments from her.

He felt the blood rushing back to his penis at the mere thought that maybe, in a not too distant
future, he could touch her again, breathing in her scent, feeling her gasp beneath him,
stroking her skin until she shivered.

He looked up.

Something suddenly diverted him from his thoughts.

He recognized Lucius' silver owl.

It was flying high in the sky, about ten meters away.
It seemed to be heading toward him. As he got closer, he saw that it carried a letter on its
beak.
Imprinted on it was an emerald green seal: the mark of Malfoy's House.

There.
The moment had arrived.

His father had finally had the courage to make himself heard.

His heartbeat quickened slightly as his mind wondered what the contents of that letter might
be and why had taken him so long. He stretched out his own arm, waiting for the owl to
approach.

However, to his surprise, it flew past him.

He followed the little silver owl's course with his eyes.

Was he going to his dormitory?

The tower was on the other side of the castle, it was headed in the wrong direction.

The owl perched on the ledge of a small window on the second floor.

Draco took a few steps forward to try and get a better look.

Where was his father's personal owl headed?

The window opened.

Someone leaned out, grabbing the letter and letting the bird step inside.

Magnus.
 Chapter 15
Chapter Notes

I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. ❤

I probably won't be able to post tomorrow, next chapter will arrive on Sunday.

15.

September 1995

He was a prefect. Now she was finally going to notice him.

Surely she and Potter would be chosen as Gryffondor's prefects.

Now she would realize that he was her equal.

No, not her equal.

He was superior. Or at least that was what he kept telling himself, believing it less and less
day by day.

He stood up, with Pansy clinging to his arm, and headed for the carriage at the end of the
train where the new prefects would be meeting.
The badge glittered above his uniform.

He wondered what it looked like on Granger's chest. He also wondered if this year she would
finally decide to slightly unbutton the top buttons of her shirt like all the other girls did,
instead of always closing it up to her neck.
This way, maybe, he could finally make her angry and see how much of that redness
extended to her chest…

He entered the carriage.

The two pairs of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were already there.

The only ones missing were the two of them, her and…. WEASLEY!
After the door opened and she and the redhead made their entrance, he frozed, waiting.

He expected that at any moment someone else would walk in.

Anyone. But not him, not Ron Wealsey.

His eyes fell on the glittering badge on the redhead's chest, identical to his own.
He clenched his jaw as his palms began to sweat.

He heard little of what the head boy explained to them, not that he needed to.
Why had they chosen Weasley as Gryffindor prefect? Had Dumbledore totally lost his mind?
Why not his beloved pupil Potter?

God, he was so sure it would have been him.

The worst thing though, besides the surprise of Weasley, was the fact that Hermione hadn't
spared him a glance since the compartment door had opened.

Not a single time had her brown eyes dared to travel in his direction. They flashed between
the heads of the school, intent on explaining rule after rule that she probably already knew by
heart, and the boy next to her.
Her eyes sparkled, he noticed. She was rocking on her legs, unable to stay still for the
excitement.

And she kept staring at him, Weasley, giving him the same look she gave Krum. But he
wasn't Krum. He was Ron mediocrity Weasley.

What the hell did she see in him? He clenched his fists, suddenly annoyed by both
Hermione's attention to the redhead and his own reaction to that sight.

Why did he feel so nervous? What did he care? But why not Potter? He continued to wonder.
Potter was brilliant, if nothing else, as much as he would never admit it even under Cruciatus.

Potter was a wizard equal to her, someone who could stand up to her, someone she would
have something in common with.

Weasley was… Weasley.

He was so lost in his thought that he didn't realize the meeting had been dismissed. The
carriage emptied, each person returned to their compartment.

The two of them got out first.

Oh no, not so fast.
He stood motionless in the aisle watching the two Gryffindors vanish behind a compartment
door.
Good.

"Draco," Pansy tugged at him. "Shall we go?"

"You go, I'll be there in a moment," he replied, releasing himself from her grasp and heading
to the opposite side of the Hogwarts Express.
When he was out the door he paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. He heard muffled
voices coming from inside. Potter was there. How had he reacted to not being chosen?

He threw the door open wide. Four heads turned toward him, one more than he would have
expected. A blonde girl, the Ravenclaw scatterbrain he'd heard about, sat with the three
Gryffindors.

"What is it?" asked Potter immediately before he even opened his mouth.
He tried hard not to turn his gaze towards Granger, suddenly annoyed to have found her
sitting next to Weasley.
He knew he had her attention, she couldn't ignore him now.

He assumed a nonchalant pose, leaning one shoulder on the still open compartment door,
making sure the badge on his uniform was clearly visible.

"Be polite Potter, or I'll have to punish you," he replied.

The words left his mouth in a drawling voice. He regretted saying them the same instant he
poured them out.
The word "punish" triggered images in his mind that were totally different from the classic
punishments in Filch's office.
"You see, unlike you I have been chosen as the prefect of my house. Therefore I, unlike you,
have the power to inflict punishment."

Do you understand, Granger? Are you listening to me? We're on the same level now.

"Yes," said Harry, "but you, unlike me, are a worm, so get out and leave us alone."

Nice try, Potter. But no, not so fast.

The show wasn't over yet. He had yet to drop his bombshell.

"Tell me, how does it feel to be second to Wealsey, Potter?" he asked.

"Shut up, Malfoy," Hermione intervened.

He turned to face her in disbelief. He had wanted to provoke a reaction in her, but not like
this.
She had intervened as soon as he mentioned the redhead…. She was defending him.

Oh no, he wasn't okay with that at all.

Now he was going to go all the way.

You care that much, huh Hermione? Let's see how angry I can make you.

"I seem to have touched a nerve" he continued with a grin.

"Out" Hermione stood up, and in her scream he saw again that fire in her eyes that he had
been craving for a year and a half now.

She moved closer to him, his heart beating fast.

Her small hands rested against his chest, pushing him away.
But more than the strength of her slender arms, it was the fear that she could feel his heart
beating so frantically that made him flinch.

Frightened and breathless, he darted out. The last thing he heard, other than the pounding
beat of his heart, was Hermione slamming the compartment door.

Bloody mudblood.
November 1998

Magnus.
And Lucius.

Yet this association sounded vaguely familiar in his head. He knew he had heard this man's
name somewhere before. If only he could remember where.

If Lucius was involved, Hermione was more than in danger.

And since she seemed determined not to listen to reason, he had to get involved. He had to
intervene.

He had to get closer to her, to earn her trust.

Maybe she would accept him, after all.

If there was a way to make up for his past mistakes…. But no, there wasn't.

What if he showed her that he had changed? That he was a better person?

He paused for a moment, turning that question over to himself. Had he changed? The answer
was definitely yes.

But this change had nothing to do with hormones.

It was the war that had changed him.
Or maybe not.
The war had simply been the straw that broke the camel's back.
She.

She had been the one to imprint a slow and inexorable change in him.

Perhaps this was his punishment from the universe: to suffer for her.
That his instincts had chosen her as his omega seemed a strange twist of fate.
Yet, thinking back on it now, it made sense.
Year after year little pieces of the puzzle had gradually come together to convince him that
there was something wrong with him, with his beliefs. And this girl had had the specific task
of destroying him, of stripping him of every belief and certainty.
But succeeding in it wasn't enough.
He hadn't suffered enough, evidently.

It was almost comic having developed such a sense of protection and having to defend her
from the very person who had instilled in him all that hate towards her and the ones like her:
his father.

He laughed, convincing himself that this was his place in the world. All of his bad choices,
every single action, had led him there.

He paced nervously back and forth, pondering.

He had to get closer to her.
He had already conquered her body. Now he needed to conquer her mind.

Hermione, having spent the night sleepless, nervous and agitated because of her many
discoveries, headed for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, hoping that the lecture
would be able to distract her from the thoughts that were distressing her.

She kept telling herself to be calm and rational, to give Magnus the benefit of the doubt, but
her instincts were screaming.

Her sleepless night had led her to make her arrival in the classroom less early than she would
have liked.

The lesson was about to begin and almost all of the students had already arrived.

She pulled book, quill, and parchment out of her bag, ready to lose herself in defensive spells.
She quickly flashed her gaze across the room, getting visual confirmation that Draco hadn't
arrived yet.

She would have heard him if he had…

The smell of pine and musk filled her nostrils. Her heart began to beat rapidly remembering
her very last encounter with the boy, the blush grew in her cheeks and the arousal between
her legs as she hurried to her usual desk in the third row straining not to look up.

She felt embarrassed after the young man's sudden escape of the other day. He had probably
let his instincts get the better of him, regretting what he had done a moment after regaining
his clarity.

It's always been Draco.

She shook her head, getting more and more nervous with every passing second.

Something bumped against her back. All the things she had with her fell from her trembling
hands.

She turned, finding Draco standing in front of her, towering over her from the height of his
six feet and blocking her view with his broad shoulders. She stammered, straining not to meet
his eyes.
She made to bend down and gather her things.

"No, stop," the young man said, bending down. He picked up her Defense book, her quill and
ink bottle and her two new scrolls from the floor, handing them to her.

Hermione hesitantly grabbed her own things from the Slytherin's hands. She dared to look up
into his face, finding a different version of Draco Malfoy than the one she was used to seeing
since the beginning of the year.
The boy gave her a bright smile, remaining silent.

Uncertain, shaken, and embarrassed, Hermione turned and walked to her desk a few rows
back.
The new teacher entered the classroom a few moments later, starting the lesson.
Ester Proderiv, a portorican witch specialized in defensive spells.

"Today we're going to be covering an advanced level spell," stated the young woman, who
had won Hermione's interest and sympathy from the first few lessons. "I think it will take at
least three weeks until you can all master it to perfection," she said, causing her gaze to dart
between the desks, lingering on Hermione, Ernie, and Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff.
"Though I know some of you are doing quite well already."

Hermione held her breath.

No, she didn't want it to be… Not that…

"The spell we will be covering from today and for the next few lessons is the patronus
charm," the teacher stated firmly.

Hermione tried to hide her frustration. She knew that this moment would come sooner or
later, she knew that the Patronus Charm was on the syllabus, and she had chosen to follow
this course in spite of everything.

The truth, however, was that she had been trying to convince herself throughout the summer
that once she got to this point she would be able to master the spell again. She had thought
that she would have had time and opportunity to practice, being able to master the spell again
by now.

But it had been over a year since she had last produced a corporeal Patronus. She hadn't been
able to after obliviating her parents. Not to mention everything that had had happened since
her return to Hogwarts.
The time to practice, unfortunately or fortunately, had not been much.

The professor began listing the various theoretical notions regarding the spell. Following
most of the students in the room, she grabbed her quill and one of the scrolls she had with her
and began to write, just to keep her mind from panicking.

Patronus Charm

She began to slowly imprint the ink on the yellowed paper.

As soon as the tip of her quill lifted from the paper, the words vanished. She blinked,
momentarily surprised. She ran her hand over the rough parchment. It was as if the ink had
never been there.

A moment later more words, ink as dark as her own, began to take shape on the paper. But
they were not the ones she had imprinted. And, more importantly, it wasn't her handwriting.
No, this was much more delicate and elegant.

Come on, Hermione, you already know all about it

She opened her mouth wide, looking around the silent classroom. The only voice to break the
silence was the one of the teacher intent on explaining.
She turned around, looking to her left, where, in the back row, Draco Malfoy sat with his eyes
fixed on her. Her brown irises met the boy's gray ones.

He kept staring at her, intently, not looking away as he usually did whenever their eyes met in
the weeks before. He raised his eyebrows, barely hinting at a smile with the corners of his
mouth.

Hermione turned her head away, looking straight ahead. Her heart hadn't slowed down since
she'd set foot in the classroom, but now she was beginning to sweat. The sensation of heat
extended from her neck all the way down her back. She felt Draco Malfoy's steady eyes on
her shoulders, setting her skin on fire, piercing her.

Impressed, Hermione?

The words appeared again on the paper in front of her, and Hermione struggled not to turn
toward him. What was this? What did he want?

I didn't think there were any spells left that could surprise you anymore….

She felt herself flare as the ink dissolved before her eyes.
She had to admit that Draco Malfoy had definitely piqued her curiosity. Her mind now raced
to search for the spell that would allow such a thing. The anxiety and worry she had felt until
a few moments before about not being able to cast a patronus were temporarily vanished.

Are you curious, Hermione?

She tightened her lips, trying hard not to smile, pretending to be focused on the lesson. After
all, Draco was right. Professor Proderiv was explaining notions she had already read and
memorized years ago, back in the days of Dumbledore's army.

She grabbed her quill, convinced that she had understood how it worked.

Perhaps… She wrote, as Draco's words slowly faded away.

Her name looked completely different imprinted in his handwriting.

I could reveal it to you, Hermione.

She waited a few seconds, holding her breath. More words were taking shape. Do you want
me to tell you?

She thought about it for a few moments. She wanted to know. Her curiosity craved an
answer. It wasn't a common spell, it wasn't something found in the Hogwarts N.E.W.T's
program, nor in textbooks. It was advanced magic.
Still, her pride stopped her, forcing her to stand with her quill suspended a millimeter over the
yellowed paper, a moment before she wrote a big YES on it.

Why do I get the strange feeling you're about to ask for something in return?
She wrote instead, holding back a smirk and glad the boy couldn't see her.

The young man's response was not long in coming.

Because you're a smart witch…

Hermione felt her cheeks blush, admonishing herself internally for that reaction. She crossed
her legs under the desk, squeezing them together to relieve the growing tension between her
thighs.

And what would you like, exactly?

She squeezed the quill between her fingers, biting her lip. Draco's answer, this time, was long
in coming. She brought a hand to her hair, trying to air out his heated neck.

You.

She stood still and watched the single word imprinted on the parchment. Perhaps it was the
pounding beat of her heart that marked time so slowly, but she had the impression that those
three small letters took forever to dissolve from the paper.

She let go of her feather, rubbing her own sweaty hands against her skirt. She clenched her
legs even tighter, moving slightly in her chair.
She could feel the arousal soaking her underwear.
She wondered if Draco could feel it too.

She took a series of deep breaths, keeping her gaze straight ahead. More ink appeared on the
parchment again.

Does this surprise you, Hermione?

Her breathing became heavy, and she felt herself gasping for air as she tried to appear relaxed
and not let her agitation show to the girl sitting next to her.

I thought you were the brightest witch of your age…

She remained motionless. Her hands clasped under the desk. She dared not to answer.
Someone would have seen her trembling hands.

Am I making you nervous?

For Godric. He knew. He knew the effect he had on her.

She gasped, straining to be as quiet as possible, and at that very moment she realized
something: hormones had nothing to do with it.

It wasn't his body that was driving her crazy right now. It wasn't his closeness.

His words were doing this to her.

"Miss Granger?" the voice of Miss. Proderiv made her jerk in fright. She immediately looked
up from the untouched parchment in front of her. She held her breath.

"Would you like to offer a demonstration of the spell to the class?" the woman smiled,
looking at her with wide eyes.
No. Please no.

She swallowed. Everyone's eyes were on her. She stood up, feeling an awkward dampness
between her legs. As she passed Ernie Macmillan's desk in the front row, she saw the boy
cover his nose with one hand. His other hand clasped tightly around the edge of the desk.

The girl took a deep breath, straining to position herself as far away from the front row as
possible. She reached the teacher behind the desk and held her wand firmly.

Just one memory, Hermione.

She told to herself. You can do this.

She closed her eyes, trying not to think about her parents. Instead, she thought of Ron and
Harry, of the evenings at the burrow spent between Molly's food and Fred and George's
prank.

Fred…

No, this memory didn't fit. She tried to focus again. She thought about the end of the war,
about the feeling of joy she felt when she realized that they had finally made it.

Suddenly she opened her eyes.

Draco was looking at her.

She could feel him in her blood. He ignited something in her. She felt her own magic vibrate
in the air all around her and channel itself along her wand.
She decided to take advantage of that feeling.

"Expecto Patronum."

The force of the spell that left her wand caused her to waver. An intense white light blinded
nearly every student in the room. It was strange…different.

It had never been like this before. She watched open-mouthed as the force caused by her spell
generated a slight turbulence, sending sheets of parchment and a few feathers flying from the
desks in the front row.
Something was taking shape. It looked like something big, something different from her little
otter. She was curious and scared at the same time.
It was…

"Well, well, Miss Granger," the professor's voice interrupted her.

The light faded, and Hermione realized that the effects caused by her spell had been more
intense than she had imagined.

Scrolls and feathers were scattered all over the floor and boys and girls had their hair totally
messed up.
Had she done it?
They all looked at her with curiosity as she walked back to her seat. Draco's eyes did not part
from hers.

As soon as she resumed her seat she noticed that the teacher was staring at her suspiciously,
before addressing the class again.

"Abbot," she called. "Do you want to try?"

Hermione was not to seen around that afternoon. She holed up in her own Common Room,
taking advantage of that space all to herself to practice some spells.

She thought back to Magnus' words. Why had he asked her if she had noticed anything
strange about her magic? She hadn't read much about it in the various manuals she'd
reviewed. All they said was that hormones could affect the magic of wizards and witches, but
they didn't specify how that might happen.
She was certain of only one thing: something had changed, definitely.
There was something unstable within her.

Her equilibrium had been broken at some point in the last year, and right now she had no idea
how to restore it.

Draco spent the afternoon uselessly wandering between the Great Hall and the library. There
was no sign of Hermione.

He began to worry.
Had he scared her off?

Maybe he had misunderstood her signals. Maybe she wanted nothing to do with him.

Had he been so stupid to get his hopes up? He thought back to his interaction with Hermione
in the classroom. The way she had looked at him….

He brought his hands to his temples, getting up from the library table in frustration. He
decided to retreat to his dormitory. It was clear by now that Hermione wouldn't show up
again for the day.

He advanced slowly, letting his mind wander. Something strange had happened when
Hermione had tried to cast her patronus. He couldn't tell what was wrong, he had never been
able to master that spell, but from the shocked faces of the rest of the class, and especially the
teacher's puzzled expression, he deduced that something unusual had happened.

He ascended the stairs, reaching the sixth floor.

The hallway was empty. He turned the corner that would lead him to the painting that hid his
new dormitory.
He wondered how many there were, scattered around the castle, hidden behind old paintings.
McGonagall hadn't hesitated to transfer him to this one, so probably there were more than he
could imagine.
Then, just as he was about to reach the painting that hid his room, Pansy Parkinson catapulted
in front of him.

He brought a hand to his chest, trying to calm the rapid beating of his heart.

"Salzar, Pansy," he exclaimed. "You gave me a fright…"

"What are you doing here, Draco?" the girl asked, peering at him suspiciously.

The boy looked around in puzzlement. With his fingers he slightly loosened the knot in his
tie, which had suddenly become suffocating.
He looked at her questioningly.

"I know you no longer share a dormitory with Granger," the girl brought her hands to her
hips.

The young man's heart skipped a beat. He tried to compose himself. He could feel Pansy's
inquisitive gaze psyching him out, though he couldn't quite figure out what she wanted from
him.

"Well?" the young woman called back to him.

Draco took a deep breath. "Are you following me, Pansy?" he asked.

The girl stared at him with her head held high. She spoke without hesitation. "I know
something's going on, something big. And in one way or another you're all involved. But
apparently the only ones left in the dark are me and Theo."

Draco huffed, taking a step forward to get past her. "None of your business," he said, turning
his back on her.

Pansy gave off a cry of frustration, lunging forward and grabbing his arm, forcing him to turn
around. "Just tell me one thing," she implored him with greedy eyes. "Is it official, then?
Between you and Astoria? Is that why Lucius made you move-"

Draco, surprised, remained motionless.

He felt the air run out of his lungs. What was there to make official?

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Pansy," he replied, looking at her sullenly.
He felt his nerves on edge.

His words seemed to catch the girl by surprise.The expression on her face changed.
"I saw him," she said, tossing her hair back in her fingers. "The official Malfoy owl. He
delivered a letter to Astoria last week. And a few days later she and Daphne became super
mysterious. They've started skipping meals and sneaking out of the dorm at the most unlikely
times."

Draco's nerves were on the verge of exploding.

A bad, bad, feeling began to make its way inside him. He could feel his stomach twisting
with anxiety.
"Did you follow them?" he asked dryly.

Pansy rolled her eyes, hesitant.

The young man grabbed her tightly, encircling her shoulders with both hands and looking
into her eyes. "Please, Pansy. You followed me, so you must have followed them too," he
implored. "You have to tell me where they went."

The girl was momentarily speechless, startled by the enormous concern she read on her
friend's face. "They…" she gasped, trying to make up her mind.

Was this information that important? She had initially thought not, but perhaps she had been
mistaken. She hesitated for a moment. If she was going to share what she knew, she would
demand to be made aware of what was going on.

"You're going to have to give me some answers," she stated decisively.

Draco turned, exasperated, throwing a fist against the wall with enough force to startle her.
"Tell me," he screamed. "You have to tell me what-" he stopped, apparently calming down.
He tried to compose himself.
Acting violent wouldn't get him anywhere.

The alpha and the snake inside of him were fighting for control.

"You'll get all the answers you want," he said. His gaze was now fiery, his tone of voice
threatening. "But you have to tell me where they were going. Now"

Startled by his sudden change in attitude, Pansy spoke up.

"I saw them go into the infirmary."

 Chapter 16
Chapter Notes

This chapter describes sex scenes with an explicit language!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

September 1996

Draco walked the halls knowing that this would be his last year at Hogwarts. His father had
been clear, he would not be resuming his studies the following year.

And that was logical after all, wasn't it?

How could he expect to return to school the year after murdering the headmaster?

He laughed to himself, bitterly, shaking his head.

Of course he wasn't going to kill Dumbledore.

The meaning of "last year" held a thousand facets, a thousand different meanings. His likely
death was one of many possible scenarios.

He wondered how it would happen.

Would it be Dumbledore who would kill him, during his attempt to assassinate him? Or
Voldemort after his failure? He wondered which of the two options would be better.

Surely Dumbledore, or some other member of the order, would make it as quick and painless
as possible. Voldemort, on the other hand… He would have tortured him first, for hours,
physically and psychologically. And his parents…

A shiver ran down his spine, sweat began to form along his icy skin.

Someone put a hand on his shoulder and he jumped in fright.

He turned around, finding Theo Nott beside him, a bored smile on his face.
He tried to resort to what Professor Snape had taught him, clinging to occlumency.

"Why that funeral face, Draco?" the boy asked. "Do you miss your beloved Snape yet?"

The blond frowned, remembering that this year they would have a new potions teacher,
Professor Slughorn.
If he didn't have other things on his mind he would definitely be annoyed by that news.

He loved Professor Snape, and he especially loved his absolute disdain for Potter and the
Gryffindors. It amused him.
He walked into the classroom, sitting next to his friend as one by one several students made
their entrance. The professor introduced himself, beginning the lesson.

Not even five minutes had passed when Granger's hand rose into the air.

After giving a series of correct answers to questions he didn't care to pay attention to, the
professor asked, "May I ask what your name is, my dear?"

Hermione seemed initially embarrassed. Her cheeks turned red and she lowered her gaze
before answering. "Hermione Granger, sir."

"Granger? Granger? Could it be that you are related to Hector Dagworth Granger, who
founded the extraordinary potion society?"

That idea strangely sparked something inside him. He knew that Granger's parents were
muggles, but…
What if it was true? What if Granger had relatives in the magical world?

Then she wouldn't be a mudblood.

If Hermione Granger was a pureblood?

His heart began to beat rapidly.

God, that changed everything.

He began to stare at her, now for the first time, without the veil of prejudice. He realized, in
that moment, that he desired her.

A series of images jumped to his mind: the two of them together. As a couple. In a reality
where it would be possible, in a reality where she was a pureblood and he could have her.

He leaned toward Theo, his mind still in turmoil. "Do you think that could be true?" he said.

His friend shrugged, disinterested.

"No, I don't think so sir. I'm muggle-born."

The castle of fantasies his mind had built in those very brief seconds collapsed, leaving
behind piles of rubble.

Salazar, had he really imagined himself with Hermione Granger?

1998

It was all too clear what was happening, yet it was as if there were a few pieces missing.

The Greengrasses, his father, and Magnus.

Everything revolved around him. And Hermione.

But what did Hermione have to do with any of this? What did Magnus want from her?

The situation was more urgent than he thought. He didn't have time to take things slow. He
needed to talk to her, and he needed to do it now.

With his heart in his throat, he let his feet guide him back to their old dormitory.

Impatience and agitation bubbled in every single drop of his blood.

He noticed that the password hadn't been changed and the rational part of his mind couldn't
stop him from taking advantage of it.

Strange, he thought to himself as he crossed the threshold without further question. He knew
he would find her there in the common room.
He had smelled her from the beginning of the hallway.

She was going to be in heat again soon, that was why her scent was more intense lately. And
there she was.

Hermione stood up.

Several books were open on the table in front of the fireplace. The sweater and tie from her
uniform lay on the small armchair in front of the fireplace.

Draco clenched his jaws at the thought that there was only the light layer of cloth of her shirt
covering her smooth skin.

"Malfoy," the girl exclaimed, surprised. Seeing him had turned her on. He could feel it. He
could feel the arousal flowing between her thighs.

Something inside him kept telling him that this wasn't going to end well.

"I need to talk to you," he said, not caring about the tone his voice took and the effect it
would have on her. He was loosing control of himself.

His emotions, and his fears, had taken over him.

He was going protect her whether she wanted it or not.
And Salazar, the smell of her…just too much. He couldn't contain himself, he couldn't even
control his own thoughts anymore. Her proximity, along with the anger he felt inside, were a
lethal mix.

Someone wanted to hurt his omega, they wanted to hurt her.

God no, he would never allow that. He would eliminate them, one by one.
No one was to come near her.

He realized that his hormones were taking over.

He looked around the room, searching for an open window he could look out of to get some
air. He needed to breathe and get oxygen to his brain.
Anger and attraction, mingling in his blood, were awakening hos most animalistic instincts.
"Draco…" Hermione's voice was small and brittle. "Tell me".

He clenched his fists, lowering his gaze, considering whether he should really reveal what his
own father was plotting and scheming against the two of them.

He thought about it deeply, trying to make his Slytherin's instinct prevail on the animalistic
one.
Maybe it wasn't the case. If she knewn that Lucius was involved she probably wouldn't trust
him anymore.
And without her trust it would be harder for him to protect her.

"Don't treat me with kid gloves," blurted Hermione, drawing his attention and forcing him to
look up into those fiery eyes that haunted dark corners of his mind. "I've faced far worse
things, Malfoy," she crossed her arms over her chest, and he was grateful for that gesture,
which distracted him from the provocative image of her slightly unbuttoned blouse.

"Therefore, I am perfectly capable of dealing with what is happening to me now and

whatever this Magnus is up to."

He swallowed. God, how stubborn she was. This attitude of hers only aroused him even
more. There was something in the air and in her that made it especially hard to hold back
now.
And when she acted like this… it made him want certain things….

Oh no, Hermione, the last thing I'd want right now is to treat you with kid gloves. But there
are some things even you can't handle…. He shook his head, trying to silence that voice.

Where was it coming from? Why was it so insistent?

"Are you sure?" he said. He took a step forward, noticing pleasantly that the she remained
still, not flinching. He looked down at her.

He felt like a predator now. And she was his little prey. She was trapped, how could she not
realize that?
Even if she wanted to, she couldn't escape him. And the best part was that she didn't want to.
She wanted him at least as much as he wanted her. Her body wanted him.

"Yes," the girl replied, holding his gaze.

He sighed. That defiant look she was staring at him with….

He bit his lip. It was so hard to stay focused on the conversation when her skin was so
invitingly close.

What was he saying?

"What's your limit, Hermione?" he told her, carefully watching the expression on her face as
that little head of hers processed his question. He moved even closer, only a few inches, but
enough to make them both sigh.

"What are you referring to, Malfoy?"

"You're in danger," he said, letting his gaze dart from her eyes to her lips.

"It wouldn't be the first time," she replied, struggling to keep a steady voice, not letting him
see the agitation his gaze on her lips caused.

Draco smiled slightly, drawing his gaze back from her lips and aiming it into her eyes again.
"I'm the only one who can help you," he said, taking a deep breath. "If you trust me, it will be
easier."

"Thank you," she replied academically. "But I don't need someone to save me."

Draco clenched his fists.

No, Granger, this stubbornness of yours may have won over Potter and Weasley, but not over
me.
Something even more possessive and animalistic snapped inside him. She was so absurdly
stubborn.

"I don't care," he replied.

Hermione's expression changed. From an initial moment of amazement at that unexpected

answer, it soon became indignation.

Draco could feel her pride arise and prepare to pour out a torrent of words on him. But he
didn't care, not anymore.

This girl had suffered enough.

But it was over: she was his to protect now, he would never leave her alone again.

"No," he said, snapping forward. His hand was on her mouth, preventing her from speaking.
His body was now pressed against hers. He slid his other hand down her back, pinning her in
his arms.

Hermione's heart began to beat rapidly. She should have been frightened by the way Draco
had suddenly attacked her. She was motionless, trapped. Yet fear was the last emotion she felt
right now.
She could feel his erection pressing against her thigh. A shiver ran down her spine, and she
hoped with all her might that he didn't notice.

"I'm tired of pretending, Hermione," he said. "And I'm tired of pretending that this is all
nothing. I'm tired of staying the fuck away from you," he said, continuing to press his hand
against her mouth.

He watched her pupils dilate into two black pools.

"It's so painful," he continued, as his voice was tinged with a hint of desperation. "I tried, I
swear. But…" His breath caught.
He let go of the hand pressed against Hermione's mouth, allowing himself to watch her lips.
"Sleeping at night is impossible for me knowing you might be in danger. You have to allow
me to help you." His lips moved dangerously close to Hermione's, breathless and speechless.
"I…" stammered the girl. She felt her mouth go dry. The words, which were slowly trying to
find their way through her emotionally overloaded mind, froze.

Draco's lips were on her. His hands were everywhere. "I can't," the Slytherin said, continuing
to kiss her. He grabbed her bottom lip, squeezing it between his teeth, savoring it. Every
single cell in his body quivered with the desire to sink into her flesh.

"I'm sorry"

Hermione's knees trembled and, as if he had read her mind, Draco's arms lifted her up.

"I can't stop," the young man continued, moving all the books on the table with one hand and
laying the girl on it. They stared at each other for a moment, both breathless. "I'll protect you,
even if you don't want me to," he said in a rough voice, resting his forehead against hers.

Hermione could feel Draco's breath on her lips. His scent. She had missed feeling him so
close.

And him… He was so out of control. Just the way she liked. The way she'd wanted him to be.

"I…" she began, panting, before he could interrupt her. "I do."

She opened her eyes just in time to catch the slightest hint of a smile on the young man's face.
So brief and small that she thought she had imagined it.

Before she could realize it, his expression changed completely. His pupils dilated, allowing
only the thinnest glimpse of his silver irises.

His hands were on her chest, tearing off her blouse in one decisive move. The room was
flooded with the sound of buttons spilling onto the floor.

"Tell me," he began, shedding her bra and gazing down at her exposed breasts with a blank
stare. "Tell me that you want this, Hermione."

His lips ventured to her. Hermione gasped, sinking her hands into his blonde hair.

"Say it," Draco repeated, in a deep voice, as his tongue teased her breasts. His hand slowly
moved up her thigh, slipping under her skirt.

"I want t-this. You."

A deep sound left the young man's throat as his lips trailed down her stomach and his hand
went dangerously up her thigh. "Good girl…" he murmured.

He slipped off her skirt, letting Hermione feel his heavy breathing over her now soaked
underwear. "You're so wet already…" he said, letting his fingers run over the thin fabric.

Hermione gasped.
He continued to tease her, letting his fingers slide up and down at an exhausting pace. "So
wet for me…" He moved the fabric slightly to the side, letting his fingers soak in her arousal.

Hermione's legs trembled. She thrust her hips forward in impatience, desperately wanting
something to relieve the growing tension on her clit. Draco's hands snapped to her thighs,
pressing them violently to the sides of the table. He looked up at her. "Do you want to be a
good girl, Hermione?" he said, breathing against her clit. Hermione gasped.

Draco's grip on her legs grew stronger, crushing them even more against the edge of the
table. He was going to leave bruises.

"Answer me," he intimated, raising his voice slightly.

"Yes."

"Then you need to stay still," she said, stroking the inside of his thigh with one hand. "Do
you understand?"

Hermione nodded, her mind totally addicted and clouded. The young man slowly slipped off
her panties, letting his fingers run down the smooth skin of her legs, caressing her
goosebumps.

His lips ventured to her. His warm breath against her skin caused a shudder that made her
every nerve cell vibrate. It was amazing the way he seemed to know her body, better than she
knew it herself.

His lips rested gently on her clit and that simple touch was enough to almost make her come.
Then they parted from her.

Hermione opened her eyes, crossing his, staring intently at her.

His silver hair rubbed against the sensitive skin of her legs. Her brain shut down,
overwhelmed by the sensations. Her heart was beating so hard and fast she thought she was
going to burst.

She held her breath as her walls continued to contract, craving what only he could give her.
She wanted to beg. The voice in her head kept screaming.

Alpha, please. Alpha. She struggled to resist it, breathing deeply. But Godric, how she longed
for him.

His lips were on her again. She gasped.

"Oh, Hermione," Draco's voice was hoarse and deep. The words spoken directly against her
sex. "I want to take you right here, on this table." He slid two fingers inside her. "Until you
scream my name," he began to move them at an ever increasing pace. Hermione let her head
fall back, clutching with her hands the edge of the table she was sitting on.
Completely naked.
With Draco Malfoy between her legs.
"Open your eyes. I want you to look at me," the young man's voice intimated. She gasped
again. She was going to come. She did as he said, meeting his gaze. She couldn't have
resisted even if she had wanted to. "That's it, good girl. I want to see your face contort in
pleasure. I want to see you come for me."

The orgasm swept over her. Waves of pleasure vibrated along her nerve endings. Before she
could realize it, while her muscles were still twitching, he was inside her. She sighed in
pleasure and relief at the sensation. She realized that she had wanted him so badly that she
had been sick. She had missed him infinitely.

He was so wonderful.

Even better than the first time. She vaguely remembered the details of what had happened
while she had been in heat. But this…this feeling…. How had he managed to deprive herself
of it for so long?

"So perfect…" murmured Draco's voice against her neck.

His tongue, his lips, rested right there, on the skin covering her gland.

Yes, alpha, please.

The rhythm of his thrusts, along with the pressure exerted by his hips, gave her just enough
time to recover from the first orgasm, before she was overwhelmed by the second.
Hermione's hands clenched tightly around his muscular arms.
She closed her eyes, biting her lip to keep from screaming.

"Yes, yes… Al-"

One of Draco's hands, firmly clasped around her thigh, snapped forward, grabbing her by the
throat. Hermione opened her eyes, as the wave of her second orgasm slid along her taut
nerves.

"Don't say that," the young man intimated to her. "Do you understand, Hermione?"

Startled and aroused, Hermione nodded. His thrusts stopped, and she could feel that he was
holding himself from the tension on his face.

"Say my name," gasped the Slytherin. "Say it, Hermione, please."

"Draco…" a faint, choked sound left her throat, breathless with orgasm and the young man's
penis in her full length.

Draco let go a cry of pleasure, sinking his head along Hermione's neck. The rhythm of his
thrusts grew again, faster and stronger.

"Good girl," he inhaled her scent.

Then his lips were there again. Kissing and sucking on her skin at that very spot. And then…
His teeth rested lightly on her flesh. For the briefest of seconds.
 Hermione wanted to scream.

Don't stop, she thought. Please, alpha.

"Draco…please," she managed to gasp instead.

She wanted this with all her might. Draco's arms tightened around her.

The orgasm reached them both simultaneously.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he murmured against her neck. "I'm sorry."

Chapter End Notes

So, in the next chapter there will be the last flashback, explaining what happened the
day Hermione was tortured at Malfoy Manor.

I'm not happy about this one because basically nothing happens, but I got carried away
while writing the smut.

Hope you enjoyed anyway.

Next chapter coming between tomorrow and Tuesday. ❤
 Chapter 17
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

1998

It was one of many gloomy, gray days. He had almost forgotten what the sun looked like.

He was getting paler and thinner, feeling lost, drained. He tried to spend as much time as
possible alone.

His parents no longer communicated, neither with him nor with each other and deep down he
was grateful for that.

What could they possibly have to say to each other?

They were helpless and powerless in their own home. They have been deprived even of their
thoughts.
Day after day, he frequently resorted to occlumency: to resist Voldemort, who often roamed
the corridors of the Manor, and his aunt Bellatrix, who now resided there permanently.

When he could he would hole up in his room, in the dark, in the company of only his
thoughts, in the rare moments when he could allow himself to think.

That day had started out as a good one.

Voldemort was out, looking for who knows what, and most of the Death Eaters were on a
mission to find Potter. Only Bellatrix was sneaking around the corridors of the Manor. She
was the one he was hiding from now, locked in a dusty old guest room forgotten even by the
house elves.

It had been a couple of hours now since he had locked himself in there, alone. He wondered
what his friends were doing right now.
Surely they were better off than he was, at least their parents hadn't sold them out to Lord
Voldemort. Their house wasn't a Death Eater headquarter, there was no giant snake slithering
through their halls.

He basked in his thoughts, looking out the window, his gaze pointed toward the vast garden.
Even the roses seemed to have lost their color these days. Those red roses… As hard as he
tried not to think about it, his mind projected the image of the Gryffondor.

But by now, the houses weren't so important, were they?

Who knows where she was now, where she had been hiding.
The thought that she was being hunted down made him nauseous. He felt sorry for her.
He himself had always insulted her and had often wished her the worst. But those were only
words. He had never dwelled more than a moment on the meaning of what he was saying.
But what was happening now, what they were doing to her and those like her…. Of course he
disagreed.

How could he ever agree on such a thing? How could they all believe it was right?

Still staring out the window, he saw hooded figures materialize outside the gates of the
Manor. He pushed down his emotions, taking a deep breath and isolating his mind.

He left the room, moving with slow, determined steps towards the entry.
His moment of peace was over.

He had almost reached his destination when he found himself in front of his father.
His eyes were bright and red, furrowed by deep purple circles, even deeper than his own.

"Draco," Lucius hesitated, extending an arm toward him. "Come," he told him, leading him
toward the hall. "I was just looking for you."

Those words made the blood freeze in his veins.

"What's going on?" he asked, straining to keep his composure.

Lucius's hands shook, something shone in his eyes. Draco's stomach twisted in on itself as
bile rose up his gullet.

He entered the hall, from where he could hear his aunt Bellatrix's furious, amused voice.

His mother was standing, motionless, in the corner of the room, next to the huge fireplace.
She was looking away.

His eyes scanned the huge hall.

He felt the ground beneath his feet fail as his lungs struggled to expand against his ribcage,
suddenly deprived of air. If only he could, he would have hyperventilated. A small part of his
mind, buried under layers of dark magic and occlumency, was having a panic attack. And his
body felt it, albeit unable to react.

He met her eyes. She was dirty, hurt, unkempt.

She was panting, with Greyback's slimy hands wrapped around her small chest. She was
looking at him.

Draco winced at the feel of his father's hand resting along his back. He struggled to look
away from those brown eyes.

"Draco," Lucius called to him.

He began to break into a cold sweat. His father pushed him forward, forcing him closer.

One step. Two. Three.

But just as he was close enough to touch her, his father's hand turned slightly.

And it was at that moment that he realized she wasn't alone.

It seemed such a silly thought. Of course she wasn't alone, of course she had risked her life
for someone else.
And who else if not them?
If she had been alone they most likely never would have caught her.
No, it was their fault she had ended up here and was now in danger.
The blame was solely on Weasley and…. Potter?

His gaze met the green irises, crushed by huge, disfigured eyelids, that belonged without a
shadow of doubt to Harry Potter.

"Do you recognize him, Draco?" his father whispered in his ear. "Think about it… If the
Malfoys were to hand over Harry Potter."

His eyes remained motionless on the swollen face before him. He had no intention of
revealing their identity. If they hadn't recognized them yet, maybe they would have a chance.
"I'm not sure," he stammered, immediately turning away and having his back to the three of
them before his eyes could meet Hermione's startled gaze again.
He couldn't stand it. It was…weird.
It was digging inside himself, blowing away all the walls he'd built with so much effort.

"Take them to the dungeon," thundered Bellatrix's voice. "If a spell has been cast on him,
he'll be back to normal in a couple of hours."

He heard the shuffling footsteps of the snatchers walking away with the three of them.

His shoulders relaxed slightly, his gaze fixed against the fireplace.

"Wait," Bellatrix's voice said.

Draco, in his head, screamed.

Every fiber in his body tensed again.

"Not her."

His lungs closed in on themselves, refusing to let any air in.

"No, no," screamed Weasley's voice. "Take me, take me."

"Take them away," retorted Bellatrix.

He stood still, hearing their footsteps disappear down the stairs. His father's hand was on his
shoulder again. Having no other choice, he turned, dreading the scene he knew he would see
before his eyes.

"Crucio."
The scream that left Hermione's throat penetrated his skin with the power of a million
needles. He could feel it coursing through his veins.
The girl's body slumped to the ground. Tears began to run down her face.

His knees buckled.

Draco fell to floor under the gaze of his mother, the only one who had noticed. Narcissa
reached out, grabbing his arm and helping him up. His eyes met for a moment the blue ones
of his mother, reading in them the same fear and despair that he tried in vain to hide.

He could not stay here and watch.

He closed his eyes, waiting and begging for Hermione's screams to stop.

It did, but only for a few seconds.

A scream, a different one, left her throat. He opened his eyes again.
Bellatrix was lying on top of her, a knife in her hand.
Blood trickled down Hermione's arm, red drops landed on the marble floor.

Normal red blood. Like his own. Like he'd seen so much of.

What made them so different, then?

Was this what a dirty blood looked like?

He had never smelled blood before. He thought it was odorless.

But Hermione's…

His eyes met hers.

She was looking at him so intently, with desperation.

He didn't realize how much time passed, whether a second or several minutes, but when that
contact between their eyes was broken he felt willing to do anything as long as Hermione
stopped suffering. His magic grew around the room, as strong as he'd ever felt it. His fingers
tightened around his wand.

His mother's hands were still wrapped around his arm.

He shook them off abruptly, inhaling sharply and taking a step forward.

His wand lifted.

His lips parted, ready to put a curse on his aunt.

Then, suddenly, Potter and Weasley were in front of them.

And he stood helpless as her rescuers carried her to safety. There was a fight, dust and sparks
flooded the air but he didn't care, didn't pay attention to it. The only thing his mind could
think of was the way Wealsey's arms had wrapped around Hermione, as if she were the most
precious thing in the world.

Part of himself was grateful that they had taken her. She was okay now, she was safe.
Another part, however, screamed.
What would have happened if Hermione had left in his arms, safe under his protection?

Hermione awoke to Draco's arms wrapped around her body. She looked up at his face,
noticing that he was already awake.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked as his arms wrapped around her more tightly.

"A while."

His gaze was so intense it would have startled anyone who stood before him. Anyone but her.
Lying between his chest and his muscular arms, she felt like she was in the safest place in the
world.

She kept saying that this feeling was just a biological effect, just the hormones. But it was so
pleasant, so reassuring…
After an whole year constantly on the run, she didn't think she could ever feel so safe. She
closed her eyes for a few seconds, enjoying that feeling for a little longer.

She made to get out of bed, but the young man's arms held her back. "Where are you going?"
he asked in a deep voice.

Hermione sighed, staring him straight in the eye. He was out of control. She could see the
effort he was putting into holding himself in every taut fiber of his muscles. Yet it was a futile
effort.

No, don't hold back, she thought.

"I have a charms class this morning, but we need to talk. Maybe after the afternoon lessons?"
she asked instead, heading for the small bathroom in the room wrapped in her sheet, hoping
he would follow her.

Draco stood motionless for a few moments, staring at the small door behind which Hermione
had disappeared. After a few seconds he heard the sound of water running.
Images upon images of Hermione in the shower surfaced from his deepest, most ingrained
fantasies.

His penis responded, ordering him to enter the small bathroom and take her between the
walls of the shower. He brought his hands to his temples, looking around. The events of the
previous night surfaced to his memory. He had been out of himself.
He had let that part of him, that voice in his head that was increasingly insistent, win.

He realized that he felt much better off that way, when he indulged his instincts to get close to
Hermione, to protect her, to lose himself in her. He felt as alive and serene as he ever had.
But it was dangerous. He knew it. For every second he spent closer to her, his attachment to
her grew, and when they would separate….

No
He didn't want to think about that now.
Hermione needed to be protected, needed him. So their separation wasn't something he would
have to worry about for now. Besides, he could always bite her…. and by then they would
never get over each other.

He clenched his fists, jerking to his feet, startled and scared by his own thoughts.

He ran to the window, breathing in the cool morning air. He remembered what he had done
the night before. He had almost lost control: he was going to bite her. He remembered
perfectly the feeling of her soft, smooth skin under his own teeth, the sparks that had formed
in his blood at that slight contact.

No, it was wrong.

What the hell was happening to him?

Now that Hermione was about to go into heat for the second time his instincts were growing
more and more uncontrollable. He had to restrain himself.

The scent and steam coming from the small door invaded the room, intoxicating his senses.
He threw a fist against the wall, letting his knuckles continue to bleed as he gathered his
things slipping out of the dorm before Hermione came out of the bathroom.

As he walked he mentally went over the events of the previous night. He had gone there to
talk and then….
He leaned back against the wall, glad that there was no one in the halls.

They hadn't talked at all.

He gasped, remembering the way he had pounced on her, how his hand had silenced her and
his fingers had tightened around her neck.
He'd gone too far.
He'd almost bitten her, and she wasn't in heat yet. What was he going to do when she would
be?
Could it be that there was something different about her? Maybe Magnus had done
something to her, which was why it was harder to resist her now.

Or maybe it was just due to time. She had been an 'omega for several months now, her
hormones were definitely more developed. Would she have this effect on other alphas as
well?

He clenched his fists at that thought, hoping with all his might that it wasn't so, but keeping in
mind to pay special attention to Blaise over the next few days.

He passed by his own dormitory, ducking under the freezing water in hopes that his penis
would resign itself to the idea that he wouldn't be having sex with Hermione Granger that
morning. Or any other morning. Not while the risk of losing control was so high. He had to
figure out what was happening to him and try to control it, whatever it was.
After several minutes under the water, when his erection barely hinted at diminishing, he put
his clothes back on and headed for the Great Hall. It was still early when he arrived.
Hermione was not there. The Slytherin table was half-empty. He headed to the far corner,
where Blaise, Theo, and Pansy were intent on eating their breakfast.

Pansy glared at him, kicking him from under the table and giving him one of her looks that
hinted: we need to talk.

Draco sighed, remembering what he had told her the night before.
He looked up, focusing on breakfast. He was feeling hungry.

Since sitting down, Blaise had taken on a disgusted expression. His eyes didn't lift from his
own plate, but from the way his face contorted and his hands clenched around the edge of the
table, Draco knew something was bothering him, though he wasn't sure what was it.
If it was something natural, related to their overdeveloped sense of smell, he would have felt
it too. Yet he didn't sense anything unusual. Perhaps Blaise merely wanted to make him
nervous.

Not even five minutes had passed when the dark-haired man stood up, giving him a
questioning look, before surly walking towards the exit of the great hall.

Draco shrugged, returning to his own plate.

Pansy raised an eyebrow, giving him a bored smile. She shook her head, seemingly annoyed.

"Testosterone," she huffed.

Hermione lingered in the shower for a long time. She was waiting for him to arrive at any
moment. The more time passed, the more nervous she became. Was he gone?
Of course, of course he was gone.

Even after everything he'd said the night before…. But they were just words.
Stupid and empty words dictated by a simple and ephemeral biological principle. They
weren't real, they didn't mean anything. And she had been naive enough to believe them.
Stupid.

She stayed under the hot water for a while longer, cuddling her own wounded pride in the
steam.

When it was clear that Draco wasn't going to join her, she finally closed the water jet,
wrapped herself in her towel, and exited the bathroom. A small, tiny part of her still hoped
that she would find him there, on her bed. Maybe he'd just fallen back asleep.

But he hadn't. She found herself standing in front of an empty room.

The emptiness she felt in her chest was enormous, irrational.

Before she could realize her own emotions, angry tears began to run down her face. She
walked over to the open window, repeating to herself that it was just hormones. It was a
biological reaction, that's all.

But why did it have to hurt so much?

She took her time, dressing and heading off to class without passing through the Great Hall
for breakfast.

Professor Flitwick was already in the classroom along with most of the Hufflepuff when she
made her entrance. She greeted Neville, taking a seat in the desk next to his.

She couldn't help but notice Ernie Mcmillan's disgusted expression as she passed his desk in
the front row.

Sitting down, as the professor began the lesson, she moved the sweater slightly closer to her
nose, careful not to be conspicuous, wondering if it smelled bad by any chance.

She shrugged her shoulders, letting go of those thoughts and focusing on the spells.

"Today's lesson will be about the Proteus enchantment," the professor stated.

Hermione gasped, quivering with excitement.

She knew that spell, she could master it. It was the one she had used during her fifth year to
make enchanted galleons for Dumbledore's army.

The other students looked at each other in confusion as she raised her arm, answering all of
Professor Flitwick's questions about the theory of the spell.

"Would you like to offer a demonstration?" the little wizard asked, inviting Hermione to the
desk.

Hermione nodded, approaching the professor, who had arranged some objects on his desk.
She felt the gaze of all the other students on her.
She remembered what had happened the other day in Defense Against the Dark Arts class. A
shiver of nervousness run along her skin.
She tried to relieve the sudden tension in her shoulders. It was another spell, it had nothing to
do with this one.

Hermione pointed her wand at one of the objects on the table. As soon as her lips parted and
the first syllables left her mouth, a kind of turbulence shot out of her wand. All the objects on
the desk flew backwards, hitting the students sitting at the first desk. Hermione immediately
lowered her wand, frightened.

Professor Flitwick looked at her puzzled and questioningly.

"It's okay," he said, stepping closer and clearing up the mess she had created with a single
movement of his wand.

Hermione returned to her own desk, repeating to herself that she was probably just out of
practice. She hadn't practiced that spell in years. She was just a little rusty.
The lesson continued, but she couldn't pay attention. Anxiety and worry gripped her stomach.
When class ended, she absent-mindedly gathered her things and walked towards the door, not
noticing that little Professor Flitwick was standing next to her.

"Miss Granger." Hermione jerked, turning to face the small professor.

"Professor Flitwick," the girl exclaimed, following him by the desk to avoid getting in the
way of the students gradually leaving the classroom.

"Could there be something wrong with your wand?" the man asked.

Hermione, surprised, stared at the small wooden stick in her hands. "The wand?" she
repeated, as her mind processed the reasons behind that unusual question.

The professor continued. "After the stress you experienced during the war, it may be that the
loyalty of your wand has changed. That's why it responds excessively and sometimes…" the
professor seemed to ponder this, cautiously weighing his words "-uncoordinated."

Hermione had to admit that the man was right. She wasn't getting the same results she used
to, especially in spells and transfiguration. She hadn't paid much attention to it since she'd
had other things to think about, but looking back on it now, her performance had changed
since the beginning of the school year.

Her magic was different. Perhaps, given what had happened, she really did need a new wand.
One that would better accommodate the changes in her magic. A wand suited to interact with
that new part of her.

"I think you're right," the Gryffindor affirmed.

The professor smiled. "I suggest you drop by Olivander's over the next Christmas break."

Hermione nodded, "I will, Professor, than-"

They were interrupted when someone announced their presence by knocking against the open
classroom door. Hermione turned, finding the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in the
doorway.

"Miss Proderiv," Flitwick greeted her cordially.

"Am I interrupting?" the professor asked, with an overly forced smile and scrutinizing
Hermione from head to toe.

The Gryffindor didn't miss that gesture, feeling suddenly uncomfortable.

"Nope, absolutely," Flitwick replied.

Hermione, puzzled, waved him off and headed for the exit. As she passed Professor Proderiv,
she noticed how she continued to scrutinize her closely.

She slowly left the classroom, trying to convince herself that she was simply being paranoid.
Draco spent the morning taking turns in the constant effort to keep Blaise under control on
the one hand, and to avoid finding himself within earshot of Pansy on the other. This was not
an easy task since the herbology lesson of that morning involved a continuous exchange of
tools and ingredients.

The only one with whom he found a moment of peace and serenity was Theo, apparently
amused by the situation that had been created between them all.

The blond soon noticed that Blaise moved away from him whenever he tried to approach, as
if disgusted, while Pansy did nothing but stay constantly on top of him.

"Any problems in the testosterone-land?" the girl murmured, her tone of voice far too high
according to Draco's tastes.
She pointed to Zabini, who was working on a root with Nott a few feet away.

Draco remained silent in the vain hope that if he pretended not to have heard her, she would
leave him alone.

She pulled the root he was working on out of his hands, forcing him to look up.

He leaned forward to grab it again, but Pansy took a step back. "No no, Draco," she said.
"You owe me."

Draco remained silent, continuing to stare at her.

"Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" huffed Pansy in frustration, letting go of that little
game of hers and abruptly returning the root to him. "I told you what I knew, Malfoy," she
continued, quickly looking around and making sure Daphne Greengrass wasn't within
earshot.
"And I'd say you owe me a favor…. After all, I did make you aware of your impending
engagement."

Draco let go of what he was doing, remaining still. His eyes met Pansy's, scanning her face
for a few seconds. He returned to his work shortly after. "You made that up."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Maybe, maybe not. Who knows?" she let go of the roots she was
working on, removing her gloves theatrically.
"No one tells me anything, so I have to draw my own conclusions. But rest assured, Draco
Malfoy, I will find out what's going on."

The girl walked away, followed shortly after by the rest of the students heading to the Great
Hall for lunch.

Despite his fatigue and the headache that only Pansy Parkinson could cause, Draco was
determined to practice his occlumency so that he would be able to control his instincts when
he will be with Hermione again.
He walked slowly down the corridor, heading for the courtyard, intending to hide behind a
large oak tree where no one -or rather, Pansy-could find him. He was halfway down the
corridor when he heard voices coming from a closed classroom. Uninterested, he continued
straight ahead, until one name in particular caught his attention.

"…Granger."

It was a woman's voice, but it came too muffled to his ears for him to recognize its owner.

"Yes…" it was a man's voice, Flitwick. "Just today… her wand…"

Draco, curious and frightened at the same time, approached the door. With his head pressed
against the cold wood he managed to make out Professor Proderiv's voice. "I believe this is
about something else, Flitwick. I was wondering if you had any ideas…"

"Ester," sighed Flitwick. "I've known that girl for six years, and she's always been a witch of
above-average ability. You don't know what she's been through."

"What?" the woman asked, with far too much haste for Draco's taste.

"The war," Flitwick replied, as if it was a given and he found that question completely out of
place.

Draco parted from the door, proceeding to the courtyard and pondering what he had heard,
not quite knowing how to decipher it. The only thing he knew was that he wanted to talk to
Hermione, and something suggested that he would find her there. He stepped outside into the
large courtyard, walking at wide stride toward the shore of the black lake.

The light winter wind of that morning carried Hermione's scent to his nostrils as he walked
along the north side, suggesting that he had taken the right direction. He wondered what she
was doing in that isolated corner of the courtyard.

Fearing, irrationally, that she was in danger or that something might have happened to her, he
began to walk faster and faster, until his wide strides soon turned into a full-blown run.

With his heart in his throat and his breath barely quickened, he spotted her in the distance,
alone, behind a large tree. She was holding her own wand. He watched her practicing her
spells.

She waved her wand, Draco didn't hear what spell she was casting, but he thought he
recognized it by the white light coming out of the tip of it. A moment later Hermione huffed,
angry, throwing her wand to the ground.

Without thinking, he ran up to her. "Hermione," he called.

The Gryffindor gasped in fright, turning her head away. When her eyes focused on the image
of the young man, she brought a hand to her chest. "Malfoy"

"Are you all right?" asked Draco, darting his gaze between her and her wand, which lay on
the ground a few feet away.
Hermione's eyes went wide, surprised. "What?"

"Are you al-"

"Yeah, I heard you," retorted the girl.

Draco fell silent, continuing to stare at her helplessly. Hermione dropped her arms down her
sides. "You're asking if I'm all right, really?"

Draco remained still, unsure of what the right answer would be, disturbed and shocked by all
the emotions leaking out of the small figure of the girl in front of him and somehow making
their way inside him.

"Why should I answer you?" blurted Hermione, angry and frustrated. "Why should I believe
that you actually care?"

"Because I do," the young man replied promptly. The tone of his voice was serious, calm,
cold. He took a step toward her, every muscle in his body tensing.

Hermione let go of a false laugh. She sighed, shaking her head. "Then why did you leave this
morning?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why do you keep disappearing like
that? "

"I…" stammered the young man, his mouth suddenly dry.

"I'm sorry Malfoy if I'm not good enough for you. I know you would have preferred someone
else instead of me. But unfortunately, like it or not, this burden has fallen on me," she crossed
his eyes.

"Do you think that's the problem?" raised his voice Draco, surprised and at the same time
irritated and hurt by her insinuations. He took another step towards her and Hermione
stepped back, bumping her back against the bark of the tree. "Do you think I still care about
your blood?"

Hermione opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again, under the weight of his eyes and
his ever-closer body.

"So," she hesitated, "why did you leave?" she spoke those words in a low voice.

"Can't you figure it out?" asked Draco, immediately realizing that he had cornered her, again.

He took a step back, pointing with his own hands to where he had stood a moment before.
"Don't you see that?" he said. "I can't control myself when I'm with you. And yesterday I
almost came close to-" he brought a hand to his forehead.
"Every day it's harder and harder…"

"And you think it isn't for me?" Hermione took a step forward.

"I don't want to hurt you," Draco sighed, waving her off. It was truly intoxicating. His
attraction and attachment to her was stronger than ever, and his instincts…
 "You won't," Hermione replied decisively. "You could have done it in many occasions. But it
didn't happen. So I trust you more than any other al-"

"GRANGER?!" A shrill female voice made both of them jerk in fright. Instinctively, Draco
placed himself in front of Hermione, shielding her with his own body.

The source of the voice appeared before their eyes: Pansy Parkinson, with mussed black hair
and heavy breathing.
After a second, Blaise Zabini, also evidently tried by the race, was in front of them.

Pansy laughed, loudly.

Her eyes darted between Hermione, Draco, and Blaise.

Then back to Hermione.

"She?! Really?!"

Chapter End Notes

Thanks to everyone, really. There are no words to describe of much every single
comment makes me happy!
Once I'm done with this story I will overhaul it to correct the mistakes i made, then i'm
thinking about translating some other of my stories, maybe just as an exercise to
improve my grammar.

Next chapter will come between tomorrow and Wednesday! 💓

 Chapter 18
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

"I can't believe it," Pansy laughed hysterically, looking towards Hermione. "Just when I
thought I couldn't hate you any more."

Hermione stood still, in shock, partially hidden behind Draco's body.

Pansy turned her back on them and started to walk away quickly, indignant and stymied.
Blaise took one last look at Draco and Hermione before turning and following her.

Hermione realized, inhaling now at the top of her lungs, that she had been holding her breath
throughout the duration of the brief confrontation.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words escaped from it. Her mind started projecting
image after image of what would happen if Pansy Parkinson leaked that she was an omega.

She wasn't ready yet. She hadn't yet discovered the truth about herself, she didn't know
anything about what was happening to her. If the magical world get to know about this now,
she would become a freak.

Draco placed his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to look into his eyes. That simple touch
calmed her.

She tried to get her thoughts in order. "I don't want anyone to know," she gasped, lowering
her gaze. "I'm not ready, not yet…"

Draco nodded, "No one will know, Hermione. I'll take care of it."

After that he pulled her into his arms, giving her a kiss on the forehead before walking away,
chasing after Pansy and Blaise.

Hermione stood there for a few more seconds. That gesture etched into her mind and her
skin.

Draco pulled away, mentally admonishing himself for that rash gesture, and started walking
as fast as he could in hopes that Hermione wouldn't see his suddenly blushing cheeks.
What had gotten into him? He had lost control, but in a different way this time. He hadn't
thought before acting. It had simply been natural and spontaneous.

Now the smell of her hair would linger long under his nostrils, along with the memory of the
way her small body lay perfectly between his shoulders and chin. As irrational and
inexplicable as it was, it felt like their bodies had been specially forged for each other.
They fit together perfectly under all circumstances, as if they were one.

He advanced toward the entrance to the courtyard, in the same direction he had come from,
finding the two Slytherins hidden behind one of the columns of the porch.
"What's going on here?" the blond asked abruptly. Blaise backed away as soon as Draco
came close.

Pansy instead glowered at him.

"We should be the ones asking you," she blurted out.

Draco flicked his gaze between the girl and Blaise, who was a few feet away and glaring at
him.

"We?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in defiance.

"Yes," Pansy exclaimed, standing up on her toes and stepping forward so that she had Draco's
eyes on her again, forcing him to look away from Blaise.
"Did she do something to you, Draco?" the girl asked, scanning his face with a mock
apprehensive air. "What were you thinking? Do you realize what you've gotten yourself into?
What about your parents? It's a permanent thing."

Her tone of voice grew louder and louder, and her proximity bothered his nostrils by the sour
smell of her perfume.

"What are you talking about?"

"You bit her, Draco," blurted Pansy. "And don't think I don't know what that means," she
pointed a finger at him. "You, stupi-"

"I didn't bite her," he suddenly replied, surprising even himself by the force with which that
statement left his mouth. He tried to compose himself, pretending to cough against his own
hand.
"I didn't bite her," he repeated, quietly.

Pansy, who had remained impassive and apparently not intimidated by that violent outburst,
crossed her arms over her chest, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

Then she turned to Blaise, giving him that accusing and incriminating look that only three
people could do: Pansy, Narcissa and McGonagall.

Zabini looked momentarily toward Draco. "You did," he said.

"No" retorted him, straining to contain his own accelerated beats.

"Oh please" Blaise ranted, stepping closer with a grimace on his face. "She's got your fucking
scent all over her."

Draco returned his scowl. "Oh and you didn't think it might be, I don't know-" he crossed his
arms over his chest, the shadow of a smirk forming on his face "because we made love?"

Blaise laughed at that statement. "Give me a break, Malfoy. You've fucked her when she was
in heat and your scent wasn't imprinted on her like that. Now instead-"
Draco quickly took a step forward, pushing Zabini with such force that he fell to the floor.
"Watch how you talk about her."

Pansy stepped between them, rolling her eyes with a bored expression. "Could you for once
think with your brains? Both of you" she said, shrugging at Blaise and looking at Draco.

"I didn't," Draco repeated, speaking to Blaise from over Pansy's shoulder.

"Well, something has changed," retorted the dark-haired boy.

A second later all three Slytherins turned around, realizing they were no longer alone. A
group of third and fourth year girls were walking down the porch.

Blaise stood up again, shaking the dust from his sweater. The group of girls walked past
them, giggling and turning amused glances toward the two boys.

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I hate this," she said, with bitterness in her own voice.

Draco continued to stare at Blaise. "What's changed?" he asked, a strange agitation growing
in his chest.

Pansy continued to look towards the group of young girls, who had slowed their pace and
continued to turn towards them. "We should talk about this in a quieter place," she said.

"What do you mean we should?" asked Draco. "What do you want, Pansy?"

"I want to know what the hell is going on," the girl continued, looking around before adding
in a whisper, "you're all acting weird. Besides, you two are going to end up killing each other
unless someone is there to supervene."

"We don't need you, Pansy," blurted Blaise acidly, continuing to glare at Draco.

"I think you do," replied the girl.

Other two Ravenclaw girls, probably fifth years, walked past them, peering at the two
Slytherins.

Pansy glared at them, but the two didn't even notice her.

"And apparently, I'm the only one in this school immune to you stupid alphas."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. Annoyed, nervous, but at the same time determined to fix
this situation.

Not for himself. For Hermione. If she didn't want the magical world to know about her
condition, he was going to make sure it never happen. No matter the cost.

Plus there was what Blaise had said…

Could it be that he hadn't stopped in time the other night? He tried to remember if his teeth
had penetrated Hermione's skin….

"Draco?" called back to him Pansy. "I'm sure you know a place where we can talk quietly,"
she raised an eyebrow.

Draco, though reluctantly, let Pansy and Blaise follow him into the common room of his new
dormitory on the east tower, wondering as they walked down the hallway in silence why the
headmistress hadn't sent him back among the other Slytherins.

They reached the painting.

Draco spoke the secret word, whispering it as softly as he could, making sure that neither of
them heard him.

As soon as they entered, Pansy took off her sweater and laid it on the small sofa in front of
the fireplace. Then she loosened the knot in her tie and sat down in one of the two armchairs,
resting her feet on the small table.

Draco sighed resignedly, sitting down in the chair opposite Pansy's and preparing himself for
what lay ahead. The only one seemingly tense was Blaise, who stood at the door.

"Relax, Blaise," the girl called back to him. "She's not here."

Draco turned back to the boy, catching the tension in his shoulders lighten. He was acting
strange…

Not that he minded. Part of him was definitely happy and pleased that Zabini couldn't get
near Hermione anymore.
That part of him.
The alpha.

But the rational, guilt-laden Draco Malfoy, who lived with the alpha inside that body, was
worried and nervous.
If he had bitten her, perhaps without realizing it….

Did Hermione already know? Maybe that was why she had said she trusted him. He had
tainted her, branded her.

Plus, how had Pansy found out about Hermione?

Not to mention that there was still the matter of Magnus and the Greengrasses, and the fact
that, one way or another, it was all connected to his father.

He wheezed. One problem at a time.

As much as Pansy Parkinson's presence and mannerisms unnerved him, he had to admit that
in this situation he needed her, or rather, her ability to have eyes and ears everywhere around
Hogwarts and beyond.

Blaise sat down on the small couch between the two of them, remaining silent.
The atmosphere was tense and heavy, Draco's mind was running wild, jumping from one
problem to another, from one mystery to another, trying to put in order all the little pieces of
the puzzle he had at his disposal, without having the slightest idea of what the main picture
was.

He decided to start with the most imminent and immediate things. Pansy now knew about
Hermione, so he had to make sure she didn't talk.

"Why did you tell her?" he blurted, addressing Blaise.

Before the young man could respond, Pansy cut in. "Slow down, Malfoy. He didn't do it," she
said. She looked at her nails with a falsely bored air.

"How did you find out?" he asked. "No one has to know, Pansy. If you tell anyone-"

"Don't worry, Draco. I don't want people to know that a mudblood is an omega and I'm not.
My father would hate me even more," she lowered her eyes for a moment.

When she raised them again, the halo of sadness that had momentarily passed through them
was gone.
"It's not me you have to worry about, in fact," she added, bending the corner of her lips
upward slightly.

"No more games, Pansy," retorted Draco.

"Speak plainly, this is not a game."

"I overheard Professor Proderiv arguing with Pomfrey's assistant outside the infirmary."

"Who? Dr. Nieweald? what did they say to each other?" asked Draco, his palms sweating
from nervousness.

Pansy nodded, "She expressed her doubts…. About Granger's magic. I didn't hear much, but I
heard the word omega clearly. Then he got nervous and dismissed her by saying he was
busy."

"And say what you were doing down there, Pan," Blaise intimated to her.

The girl huffed. "We'll get to that," she replied.

"Yeah, Pansy, why were you there?" asked Draco, simultaneously dreading the answer.

"I was-" she hesitated.

"Following someone," Blaise concluded for her.

"The Greengrasses?" asked Draco immediately, his heart in his throat. "Did they went to
Magnus again?" he swallowed.

"Yes " nodded Pansy. "More and more often lately. Almost every day. I don't understand
why… I was there to find out what they were hiding when I heard about Granger. And you'll
understand the shock." She paused momentarily. "And from there it was easy to put the
pieces together and figure out why you two have been acting so strange lately."

The girl took a deep breath, turning her gaze to the dark haired boy.

"Right after that, as I headed to the great hall to rub my findings in your faces, I met Blaise."

The boy frowned, instinctively bringing a hand to his shoulder. Pansy rolled her eyes.

"Okay, not really met. Let's just say we bumped into each other."

"You were running like a madwoman, Pan," Blaise scolded her.

"And you weren't looking where you were going, Zabini," the girl retorted.

Draco snapped to attention, ignoring the barb between the two as his own heart beat
frantically with nervousness.

Pansy was following the Greengrasses, but what was Zabini doing near the infirmary?

Before he could open his mouth to ask, Pansy spoke up.

"Come on, Blaise, explain why you were there," she said, crossing her legs.

Zabini grimaced, suddenly appearing uncomfortable. He looked over to Draco, taking a deep
breath. "Before you beat me up, listen 'till the end," he said.

Draco nodded, every muscle in his body tensing.

Blaise resumed. "I was following Hermione-or rather, her scent," he said. "I had felt it clearly.
It was her, and it was so strong. And I could sense that you weren't nearby."

Draco's hands clenched tightly around the arms of the chair. If he wanted him not to punch
his face, the premises weren't the best.

When had he lost sight of Hermione? He remembered swearing to himself to keep a

particularly close eye on the other alphas, especially Blaise.

And in fact, he had never lost sight of them at the same time. He was either checking on
Hermione, or Zabini.

Blaise noticed the anger mounting within him. He spoke quickly. "Whatever my intentions
were, that's no longer the case," he clarified.

"And I'm sorry. I wasn't myself. But not all of us have your self-control."
Draco didn't believe him. "Continue," he intimated. He was anxious for him to get to the
point of the story.

"As I was saying, I followed Hermione's scent all the way down the hallway, until I came
around the corner, the one leading to the studies behind the infirmary. And that's when I saw-
"

"What did you see?" sighed Draco, growing more and more nervous.

"-that the one I had been following wasn't Hermione."

Draco's heart stopped.

"She smelled like her, but it wasn't her."

He felt his mouth go dry, his lungs deprived of air.

"It was Astoria Greengrass."

Draco's eyes went wide. "But that makes absolutely no sense," he said.

"I think so, too," Blaise replied. "A few hours earlier that morning I had met Hermione, and
she had your scent on her," he said. "And whatever attraction I'd ever felt for her faded" he
lowered his gaze. "But then I smelled that scent that afternoon. And it was as strong as
Hermione's one before you bit her."

Draco snapped to his feet. "I didn't bite her," he growled.

"Whatever you did-," Blaise retorted sullenly, "had that effect."

Draco let himself fall back into the chair, sighing in frustration. He ran a hand through his
hair. "How could Astoria possibly smell like Hermione? Are you sure you weren't mistaken?"

The boy raised both eyebrows. "Do you really think my sense of smell can be wrong? You
know how it works."

There were a few seconds of silence, laden with tension. The three of theme were lost in their
own thoughts.

"I didn't smell anything strange in Astoria," Draco began.

"How long has it been since you've been near her?" asked Blaise. "I think it's a recent thing."

"Well, get close to her and let's find out if anything has changed," said Pansy, crossing her
arms.

The blond ran a hand over his forehead. "Where do you stand on all this Pansy?" he asked.
"Honestly, I'm not able to believe that you care anything about Hermione."
"I don't care, in fact," retorted the Slytherin. "But the Greengrasses' business, that does
interest me," she hesitated for a moment, as if pondering the destructive effect of what she
was about to say, "and old Lucius' as well."

Draco was not surprised. Rather, he felt angry and frustrated. His father had not bothered to
send him a single letter after all that had happened.
Instead he had taken the time to write first to Magnus and then to the Greengrasses, plotting
who knows what.

He laughed at himself.
Oh no, he knew exactly what Lucius was plotting: at best it was his upcoming marriage.

At worst…

"Do you think it's possible?" asked Pansy.

"What?" retorted Blaise and Draco in unison.

The blond noticed that the girl's gaze had suddenly become serious, and there was something
strange about her.

A veil of sadness, or fear. He couldn't have deciphered that expression. The only thing he
knew was that there was a storm going on in Pansy Parkinson's head in that moment.

"Transferring the smell of one person to another," she clarified.

There were a few seconds of silence, broken by Blaise. "From what I know, the smell of
alpha and omega comes from everyone's glands, which is why it's so specific."

"Hermione is different," Draco replied immediately. The words left his mouth before his
mind could dwell on them.

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Pansy, leaning forward.

Draco sighed. "The way she smells, it isn't new to me. I have already smelled it, months
before she manifested as an omega."

Blaise remained cool, analyzing the situation as a Quidditch coach would have done with the
plays of a match. "Usually the glands start producing pheromones a few weeks before, not
this early."

Pansy curiously raised an eyebrow at her friend, amazed at how much he knew on the
subject.

"My mother," Blaise replied, clarifying the girl's doubts.

"It wasn't her glands…it was her blood," Draco finished.

Pansy, as if she had an automatic reflex, grimaced at the mentions of Hermione's blood.

"Don't pretend that it still matters, Pan," Blaise called her back.
She kept her grimace, albeit with less conviction.

"This doesn't make sense".

She stood up abruptly, starting towards the door.

"Where are you going?" asked Blaise, instinctively getting up from the couch and following
her with his eyes.

"Staying here talking isn't going to get us any answers. And I want to know what those two
Greengrasses are up to, just curiosity," she shrugged, as if it was nothing.

Draco knew that it wasn't just about that. But he needed her help now, so he said nothing.
Whatever her reasons were, someone had to keep an eye on the Greengrasses, and he already
had Hermione, Magnus, and who knows what other alphas to take care of.

The two Slitherins started out of the dormitory, leaving Draco alone.

He looked out the window, noting that it was already dark. It was almost curfew time. He
walked towards his bedroom, mentally considering if he should check on Hermione to make
sure she was okay and in her room.
For a moment the idea of going to look for her crossed his mind, but then he reconsidered.

If he approached her dormitory, would he be able to resist the temptation to knock on her
door - or maybe break it down altogether - and take her again and again?

Would he be able to stop himself before biting her?

The very thought caused him to get an erection.

He shook his head, straining not to think about Hermione's naked body lying beneath him and
concentrating on the absurd conversation he'd had with his friends.

The first thing to do the next day would be to check by himself, with his own nostrils, if
Astoria really smelled like Hermione.

He thought back to what he had confessed to Blaise and Pansy.

He had never told anyone about that, about the blood.

That smell, the one he felt when Hermione's blood had spilled onto the manor floor, gushing
from the open wound on her arm. That was the smell that kept hunting him.

If it was true that Astoria smelled like that…. But how was that possible?
It was Hermione's bl-

He froze.

He remembered: when he had followed Hermione to the infirmary weeks ago, he had
overheard part of the conversation between her and Magnus.

"Blood sample-"

"…. More tests."

Suddenly it was clear to his eyes.

They had taken her blood.

The next day, at the breakfast table, Hermione sat next to a more than exuberant Ginny
Weasley.

Although she didn't know the reasons behind the redhead's heated enthusiasm, she had to
admit that it was contagious and managed to make her forget, even if only for a few minutes,
the anguish she constantly carried around with her, aggravated now by the fear that Pansy
Parkinson would decide to expose her condition to the world.

After several minutes of heated discussion with Seamus and Neville, the redhead turned
directly to her.

"Hey Herm," she called, forcing her to look away from the Slytherin table, where Draco,
Blaise, and Pansy, seemed to be engaged in animated conversation.
Hermione smiled at the girl.

"You're coming to the Burrow for Christmas, aren't you?" asked Ginny, her eyes hopeful.

Hermione tightened her lips as her stomach closed tightly. She had been dreading this
moment since long before she found out she was an omega.

After a summer of fighting with Ron over his absurd demand that she move to live at the
Burrow with his parents, the idea that she would have to spend the Christmas vacations there
put a strange pressure on her, as much as she loved that place.

After she left for Hogwarts, leaving the discussion unresolved with Ron, they hadn't
exchanged a single letter apart from the message she'd received for her birthday and a lot had
happened since then.

She concluded to herself in that moment that she would have to spend Christmas alone at
Hogwarts. It would be better that way.

The Weasleys were purebloods, Molly was an omega.

There was a good chance that some of her children had the alpha gene.

They would have noticed her condition, and she still wasn't ready to let her friends know.

By the way, according to the books and to her calculations, during the Christmas vacations
she would go into heat again.
It would be better for her to be cooped up within the walls of her own dormitory, in a
deserted school.

She would have gone to her parents if she could, but they didn't even have a clue of who she
was.

All the specialists on memory spells she had contacted over the summer had dismantled any
hope she had of reversing the spell.

She decided to lie to Ginny. "I don't know, actually," she said, struggling to hide her sudden
sadness.
"I need to contact other specialists for memory spells."

The redhead's smile faded. "I understand," she said. "But however things are between you
and Ron, you're always welcome at the Burrow, you know that, right?"

Hermione nodded, suddenly feeling a knot grow in her throat.

Fortunately, no one noticed that she was on the verge of tears as the tables of all four houses
were flooded with birds of all colors and sizes.

The mail had arrived.

Ginny jumped to her feet, her eyes twinkling as Ron's little owl delivered a letter to her.
Hermione recognized Harry's handwriting.

She instinctively looked over to the Slytherin table, catching sight of the Malfoy's sleek and
stately silver owl among the falling letters.
It had been the same one for years.
Its beauty was ethereal and time did not seem to affect it.

The owl dropped a letter over Draco's head, closed by the green Malfoy seal.
Hermione saw, however, that the bird did not land. It carried another letter to its beak, with
the exact same seal.

She followed it with her eyes as it flew from the opposite end of the long Slytherin table.

Draco, Pansy, and Blaise held their breath as the silver-feathered bird flew over the long table
with a letter in its beak identical to the one that now lay in the blond's hands.

The blood froze in Draco's veins as the owl made its landing in front of Astoria, who grabbed
the letter from its beak.

Draco lowered his eyes to the small piece of paper in his fingers. He opened the letter, trying
to keep his own hands from shaking with nervousness.

It was an invitation.
One of those that his parents used to deliver to their guests to invite them to dinner.
 But to him? He was their son.

He wondered what was the reason for such formality, dreading the answer, which,
unfortunately, he thought he knew.

Draco Malfoy.

We would be delighted to have you with us at the Manor for New Year's Eve dinner, so that
we can celebrate the beginning of a new year together, with the hope of leaving the past
behind and thinking about the future.

The Malfoy's future.

See you soon

Lucius.

Chapter End Notes

I hope this chapter didn't bored you! I wasn't convinced by all the dialogues but they
were necessaries to explain some things.

I'm curious to know what your thoughts are! Thank you for reading 💞
 Chapter 19
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes

Hermione felt an overwhelming and irrational sense of jealousy.

Tears, which were already threatening to well up in her eyes at the thought of her lonely
Christmas, grew under her eyelids. Aware that she couldn't control them much longer, she got
up and walked towards the semi-deserted hallways.

On the way she continued to curse herself for her reaction.

What did she expected? That there could actually be something between her and Draco
Malfoy?
Despite all the misleading signals he had sent her….

Her hands shook as she headed for the bathroom, determined to rinse her face with cool
water. She had no reason to react like this. It was only a letter.

Besides, what did she expect from him? The two of them weren't together. They weren't a
couple. They were just…

She couldn't define what they were.

What they were doing… It was simply a pastime. It was clear, wasn't it?

He would show up at the most unlikely times and situations, fucking her, enjoying her and
her body, and then he would disappear, most of the time abruptly and suddenly. And she had
allowed him to do it. She had allowed him to treat her like that, to take advantage of her.

"Stupid, Hermione," she repeated, wiping the soaked sleeves of her sweater with a spell and
staring at her own face in the bathroom mirror.

She shouldn't have expected anything from him. She had only herself and her stupid
hormones to blame for feeling this way now. Draco had his own life to live, and someone like
him would never mix with someone like her.

What was she surprised about? He had never looked at her before this year. And the only
reason he'd noticed her now was that stupid cocktail of hormones running in her veins.

Was it going to be like this forever? Was this what she was now?
A body, a smell, and nothing else?

This accelerating stream of thoughts threatened to make her hyperventilate. She leaned
against the bathroom sink, trying to calm herself by taking a series of deep breaths.

She heard the footsteps of students echoing through the hallway. Classes were about to begin.
She picked up her bag and headed for the exit.
As soon as the bathroom door closed behind her back something, or rather someone, bumped
into her. Her bag fell to the floor, opening and spilling all the books that were in it.

In that moment she was grateful to have masked the cover of the volumes on alpha and
omega biology. She apologized to the person in front of her without lifting her eyes from the
floor, afraid of revealing her cheeks reddened by tears.

She bent down to pick up her books, but a male voice forced her to look up.

"No, it was my fault. Let me help you."

She found herself in front of Theodore Nott. The boy picked up two of her books from the
floor, handing them to her as she stood up.

Hermione grabbed them, remaining still and a little surprised. In her six years at Hogwarts
she and Theo had never spoken to each other. Yet they were in the same year.

"Thank you," she stammered uncertainly, rearranging the books in her bag. The Slytherin
winked at her, heading down the corridor in the same direction of hers for potions class.

That morning class was the second-last before Christmas break. This meant that they would
have to turn in their work the following week.

Hermione was pleased with the result she and Blaise had achieved, despite the various
hiccups to their work that had occurred over the past few months.

That particular morning Zabini seemed strangely more relaxed in her presence. He seemed
like a different person than he had been in the previous weeks.
Although she didn't understand the reason behind that strange and sudden change, she was
grateful for it. School performance had always been a priority of hers, even in the worst of
times. This situation wasn't going to stop her from worrying about her grades.

She spent the two hours quietly and pleasantly working on the potion, smiling at Professor
Slughorn's flattery and making an effort to keep as much distance from Draco as possible.
When the lesson ended she quickly gathered her things and slipped out of the classroom,
refusing to make eye contact with the blond.

It would definitely be good to separate for a period of time.

She needed time for herself, to review her priorities and remember her place in the world.

Draco would certainly remember what his was: between silverware and marble staircases,
elegant dinners and social events. Nothing that had anything to do with her.

As Hermione left the classroom laden with nervousness, a fifth year girl, a Hufflepuff prefect,
walked up to her.
"Hermione," she said. "Madam Pomfrey is looking for you, she says she needs to talk to
you."

The Gryffindor retraced her steps, turning away from the street towards the Great Hall and
heading instead for the infirmary as anxiety gripped her stomach, dreading what Pomfrey -or
even worse, Dr. Niewlad- would say to her.

It was inevitable: she would be in heat again in a while. No matter how hard she tried not to
think about it, ignoring it was impossible.
She might as well deal with it now and get it out of her system.

She opened the door to the infirmary. Madam Pomfrey greeted her with a polite smile,
motioning for her to entry into the small study, closing the door behind them.

"Hermione, dear," the woman said, inviting her to sit down. "I've summoned you here to talk
about what's going to happen soon."

Hermione nodded.

The door opened suddenly.

The girl jerked in her chair in fright as Dr. Niewald entered the small office. His eyes stopped
on her and a queer smile appeared on his face.

"Poppy," he said. "I thought we were going to talk to her together."

The woman ignored him.

She opened a drawer in her desk, pulling out a small vial of pale pink potion. She handed it to
Hermione. "In case you decide to spend the next few weeks in someone's company," she said,
"it's birth control potion, to prevent-"

"Yes, I understand," Hermione replied promptly, feeling herself blush. The woman placed the
small vial on the desk, but the Gryffindor hesitated a few moments before grabbing it.

Magnus seemed to catch the hesitation in Hermione's gaze. He took a step toward her. "If I
may intrude," he said, with forced and false politeness, "I do not think it is wise," he stated.

The nurse snapped to her feet. "Everyone is free to have sexual intercourses without
necessarily having to have children if they don't want them, Magnus. And Miss Granger has
that right as much as anyone else."

The man rolled his eyes. "Don't lecture me," he replied, this time in a less polite tone. "I refer
to the fact that she should not have any intercourse at all in her condition."

"Your theories are unfounded," the woman replied coldly, glowering at him.

"What theories?" asked Hermione.

The man smiled lasciviously, as if he had been waiting for that question. "It would be best if
you did not consume sexual intercourse, Miss Granger, as that might alter your…magic. Your
very blood, I dare say."

"You dare say?" replied Madam Pomfrey, no longer bothering to hide her indignation.

"Of course, unfortunately I have not been able to perform sufficient tests, so-"

"Get out of my study," ordered Pomfrey, opening the door with a wave of her hand.

Magnus slowly turned to face the door, letting his gaze linger on Hermione for a second
longer.

After that, he turned to his colleague again. "I'd just like to remind you, Poppy, that I'm the
expert here. Don't forget that," then he winked at her and walked out.

Hermione remained motionless for the duration of the strange encounter. When her gaze met
Madam Pomfrey's angry eyes, she grabbed the small pink potion, put it in her bag and got up
from her chair.

"Thank you," she murmured, unsure of what she would do with it. She walked towards the
door, but before her hands touched the handle she added, "although I don't think I'll need it."

The woman looked up into her face.

"I plan to stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas period…so that I can come here in case there
should be any-" she hesitated for a moment, lowering her gaze "-problems."

The woman nodded, smiling at her.

Hermione opened the door and catapulted out, feeling a heavy weight in her chest.

The Slytherins took their seats in the Great Hall for lunch. Their eyes darted between the
Gryffindor table, where a certain Gryffindor seemed to be absent, and their own table.

Pansy in particular seemed eager to find out if Draco's nostrils sensed anything different
about Astoria.

As soon as they were seated the girl kicked him from under the table.

Blaise himself turned his gaze in the direction Pansy pointed, catching sight of the slender
figure of Astoria Greengrass walking towards them.

Draco swallowed, mentally preparing himself. Astoria held in her hands the letter that had
been delivered to her only a few hours before.

She ran towards him and, when she was close, Draco recognized the smell. It was
Hermione's smell.
The smell of Hermione's blood.
The same smell that had permeated the cold marble of the Manor floor.

The girl smiled.

"Draco," she said. "I wanted to thank you and your family for the invitation."

The blond nodded, straining to keep his composure, but not feigning any interest. "You're
welcome," he replied, thinking to himself what would happen if he didn't show up, if he
didn't come back to the manor for Christmas.

Why would he do it, after all?

He would definitely be better off at Hogwarts, alone, away from his father.

The girl stroked her hair, letting it sway in the air. That movement only pushed Hermione's
scent even further into his nostrils.

However, something was missing.

This wasn't an omega, and more importantly, it wasn't his omega.

"I'll see you then," the girl said, turning away and heading to the opposite end of the long
table.

Draco turned and slowly sat back in his seat, under the inquisitive stares of Pansy and Blaise.

Zabini in particular had a puzzled expression on his face.

Draco, as much as he didn't trust him, couldn't stop himself from asking that question. "What
do you felt?" he asked.

Zabini blinked, refocusing on the present as if his mind had been elsewhere until a moment
ago. "What are you referring to?"

Draco lowered his voice. "When you smelled Astoria," he said. "It's not exactly like
Hermione, is it?"

The boy shook his head, as if Draco had discovered something he didn't want to admit. "The
smell is that, but the rest… it's like something is missing, I can't tell what, but-" Zabini was
suddenly interrupted by a nudge from Pansy.

In that instant Theo, the only one of the group seemingly still unaware of anything, sat down
next to Draco.

"Oh I know," the newly arrived boy replied, smiling mischievously and pulling a book out of
his backpack as the three of them looked at him puzzled.

Nott served himself a serving of mashed potatoes, leaving the large book on the table before
them. "She lacks glands. Without those she's not really an omega. She just smells like one.
Everything else, hormones and that stuff, is missing," he said, grabbing the spoon.

The three looked at him astonished.

Nott raised an eyebrow. "What? Did you guys really think I didn't notice anything?" he
laughed.

Draco looked around with fiery eyes, suddenly aware that his friend knew Hermione's secret
and was talking about it in the middle of the great hall in a tone of voice far too loud for his
liking.

Pansy grabbed the book Theodore had dropped on the table, scrutinizing it.

"Page 394," Theo insisted, pointing to the book.

"What should I care about your stupid potion?" huffed Pansy.

A smirk formed on the boy's lips. "Oh, I bet you'd find it interesting."

Blaise raised an eyebrow, trying to mask his curiosity behind a false bored expression as
Pansy flipped through the pages.

Draco remained still, watching his friends' confused expressions and letting his foot tap
nervously against the floor. In his head he began to count the seconds that passed in total
silence.

Theo ate and smiled smugly, while Pansy and Zabini's eyes darted from one side of the page
to the other, with increasingly indecipherable expressions.
30 seconds.
45
60
75.

Unable to contain his impatience any longer, Draco stretched out his arm, snatching the
volume from his friends' hands. Ignoring Pansy's complaints, he quickly and nervously read
the page in front of him.

Magic Transfer.
Blood.
Glands.

Something moved through his veins. It didn't take long to piece together what was happening.

He didn't need to know any more details just yet.

Without realizing the force he put into that gesture, he suddenly closed the book. The sound
of the hard cover hitting the table turned all the heads in their half of the room. Silence fell
among the Slytherins.

"Try to contain yourself," Pansy scolded him, looking around embarrassed.

"It's not possible," the blond answered through clenched teeth, referring to what he had read
in the book.

"It is," Theo began. "They've done it before, it's happened."

"But it's illegal," Pansy interjected.

"And barbaric" added Blaise.

"How is it possible that Astoria would lend herself to something like this?" asked Pansy,
making her gaze thunder in her direction.

"Maybe she doesn't know it," replied Theo. After that he shifted his gaze to Draco. "I think
there's something much bigger behind this."

"My father?" the blond asked, though he already knew the answer.

It made sense, of course.

The blond made to get up, but Theo's hand held him back.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I need to talk to her," he replied coldly, releasing himself from his grasp and running from
the table before any of his friends tried to hold him back.

***

Hermione walked away clutching the small pink bottle between her fingers.

A contraceptive.
Sure, it wasn't hard for her to imagine why they thought she would need it.

But this time things were going to be different. She was going to be alone, which was the best
case scenario.
Besides, Draco seemed to have other plans for his Christmas break, and they included Astoria
Greengrass.

Feeling that she had definitely lost her appetite, she headed back to her dorm, eager to spend
some time alone. She had to stop thinking about Draco. She had bigger problems, after all.

Magnus' words echoed in her mind.

Why did he keep harping on the whole blood champion thing? And why was he now
claiming that she shouldn't be having imtercourses?

It didn't make any sense. Nowhere had she read about anything like this.
She walked into her own common room and ran to the small table in front of the fireplace,
pulling out the books in her bag in search of the volume of magical medicine. Perhaps she
had missed the paragraph where it was mentioned.

She certainly didn't trust him, so she was going to triple-check every word that left his mouth.

With the heart in her throat, she spilled the entire contents of her heavy bag onto the small
table. Two books of potions, as she had expected.

She had hidden the cover of the book, making it look like a casual textbook, the same as the
one planned for this year.

She grabbed the first one, flipping through the pages. It was the wrong volume.

She took the other one in her hands, inhaling deeply and preparing to lose herself in the
reading.

Soporific Potion.

She blinked, flipping through the next few pages.

Corroborating potion.
Bubbling potion.

She put down the volume, taking up in her hands the one she had placed on the coffee table
only a moment before. She opened a random page.

Amortentia.

Her fingers quickly ran to the next pages.

An ordinary potions book as well.

She thought back to the events of the day, suddenly remembering the strange encounter in the
corridors.

Theodore Nott.

Draco got up from the table not knowing where he was headed. Logic suggested he should
calm down, breathe, get some air.

Instinct screamed at him to run to Hermione.

That wouldn't be wise.

How could he possibly begin to explain her about his father?

At best she would not believe him, at worst she would believe he is involved, complicit.
He paused for a moment, considering what to do. He was supposed to protect her, yet he was
doing nothing but putting her in danger. Pathetic.
He had the ability to strum anything he touched.

He needed to talk to her… He needed to tell her….

Without a clear idea, his feet began to drag him towards Hermione's dormitory. He wasn't
even sure she was there. A part of him, the rational, logical, and currently unable to control
his own steps, hoped she wasn't. He hoped Hermione wasn't there. That way he would avoid
making any rash gestures and talk to her with a lucid mind.

He was almost halfway there when he managed to stop.

He took a moment, leaning against the wall, pondering. He should talk to someone else. Not
Hermione.

Maybe with Pomfrey, or Mcgonagall.

She had brought Magnus to this school, she could send him away.

That idea slowly took shape in his mind.

His breathing became regular. He turned on his heel, ready to go back to the great hall and
vaguely glad that he had managed to contain his nerves.

And then he heard it.

He knew she was there.

She was there, right behind him.

He remained motionless, without turning.

No rash gestures, he repeated himself. He felt her small steps getting closer and prepared to
turn around slowly. Maybe she wanted to talk to him, probably ask him if he had spoken to
Pansy. He opened his mouth, ready to reassure her that Pansy wouldn't tell anyone her
secret….

But the words died in the back of his throat when Hermione, without sparing him a glance,
walked past him in the empty corridor.

After a moment of astonishment, spent watching the swaying movement of her skirt on her
hips as she walked away, the young man caught up with her in a wide stride.

"Hermione" he said, starting to walk alongside her and wondering where she was going in
such a hurry.

"Malfoy," she replied, continuing to keep her gaze fixed before her.

Draco swallowed, noticing Hermione quicken her pace and wondering why she was so
nervous. "Pansy won't be talking to anyone, you don't need to worry" he tried to reassure her.
"Fine" Hermione replied coldly, continuing to look straight ahead.

Draco remained silent, walking beside her for the rest of the corridor. Hermione turned the
corner, huffing when she noticed that Draco continued to follow her.
She stopped abruptly.
The young man's body bumped against her back, his hands automatically tightening around
her waist.

With her back resting against his warm chest, Hermione had to muster all her willpower to
break free from his grip and turn around.

"Anything else you need to tell me?" she asked, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor.

"No," Draco replied too quickly.

Hermione turned her back on him and started walking away.

"Actually yes" the young man called her back.

The girl turned around, crossing her arms over her chest. "I'm listening."

Draco swallowed. Why was she suddenly so grumpy? A rush of adrenaline ran through his
nerves. "Christmas break starts next week." Hermione raised an eyebrow, expectantly.
"Where will you be spending it?"

Hermione's gaze was initially surprised, turning furious again a moment later. "What do you
care?"

"What do I care?" blurted Draco, as if it was the stupidest question he had ever heard.

"Oh please," Hermione rolled her eyes. "This charade has tired me, Malfoy."

Something bubbled in the Slytherin's veins. He took a step towards her. Before she could
realize it, his hand grabbed her wrist.

"What charade? What are you talking about?"

Hermione tried in vain to free herself from his grasp.

"You know very well what I'm talking about".

No, I don't. Draco thought to himself. Had Hermione heard anything about Magnus' plans?
Did she think he was complicit? He suddenly wondered where Theo had gotten that book….

"I really don't know anything," the young man insisted, lowering his tone of voice and
dragging her to a less busy corner of the hallway. "Explain it to me," he said, putting her back
against the wall.

Hermione made to move, but Draco prevented her from doing so, blocking her way with his
own body. "What's wrong with you?"
Hermione put her arms against his chest, gathering all her strength and pushing him
backwards. It was useless. His body stayed where it was, unmoving. It did not waver an inch.

The contact with his muscular chest provoked a reaction inside her that she would have liked
to avoid. Adrenaline coursed through her veins from the proximity of Draco's body, but this
time her wounded pride got the better over her hormones.

"And how are you going to spend your holidays, Malfoy?" she said, glaring at him. Draco
squinted his eyes. "I-" he stammered.

Hermione caught his hesitation to escape his grasp. She slid to the side, between the wall and
his chest.

"I'm going back to the Manor," he replied. Then he crossed her brown eyes. "But I might as
well sta-" Hermione's blood froze in her veins as soon as she heard the mention of Malfoy
Manor.

Images upon images of elegant dinners served by house elves, boring pleasantries and
expensive clothing flooded her mind.

"Excellent," she replied, not giving the young man time to finish. "I'll be at the Burrow," she
lied, in an attempt to feel less miserable.
She stalked off down the corridor before Draco could try to stop her, her back to him to hide
her glazed eyes from his view.

"Have fun, Malfoy," she murmured.

The conversation with Hermione caused the young Slytherin a sleepless night. He tossed and
turned for hours, unable to put his worries to rest.

Not even occlumency and meditation could curb the anguish in his stomach. Therefore, when
the first light of dawn filtered through the windows, he decided it was time to get up.

He watched the sun rise for a moment.

It was December 18th.
He had not responded to his father's invitation yet. Not that his opinion mattered much.

He thought about writing him a message.

Thank you, but no. I will stay at Hogwarts.

The fear of his parents' reaction forced him to shake off that thought.
He still had a few days to make that decision, maybe he could wind a decent excuse.

That morning he wasn't in the mood to eat or even to make conversation. Fortunately, none of
his friends seemed very talkative.
They were eating their breakfast with eyes on their plates. Pansy occasionally tried to strike
up a conversation, but Blaise, as usual, merely replied in boredom, while Theo seemed
unusually nervous.

He kept turning his gaze toward the large doorway of the Great Hall.

"Are you expecting someone?" blurted Pansy, noticing how the young man continued to
ignore her.

"Actually yes, thanks for asking."

"Oh c'mon-" Pansy's words were interrupted when a small orange feathered owl peeked out
of the doorway, holding a small package to its beak.

"I thought the mail came yesterday," Blaise interjected.

Theodore ignored him, grabbing the drumstick, eyes sparkling with excitement.

Pansy pushed forward, staring at him in curiosity as his hands unwrapped the package. It was
a small orange box.

Draco recognized the logo of Weasley's Wizard Wheeze.

He looked away as another weight made its way to his stomach. His eyes, focused on
Hermione, wandered slightly to her right, to the red-haired girl who was smiling at something
Longbottom was telling her.

He wondered what it felt like to lose a sibling. But how could he know? He didn't even know
what it felt like to have one.

Theodore opened the box, pulling out a strange object and staring at it in amusement.

"What's that supposed to be?" asked Pansy, momentarily distracting Draco from his thoughts.

Theo smiled. "An extandable ear."

"And what are you supposed to do with those- ohh" Pansy's expression lit up as soon as she
realized Theodore's plan.

Even the haughty grimace on Zabini's face hinted at a mischievous excitement.

The only one who still hadn't grasped the situation was Draco, distraught and lost in thought.

"Malfoy, what do you say?" called back Nott.

Draco shook his head. "What do you care about any of this, Nott?" he blurted. "What do you
all care?" he asked, pointing his eyes at Pansy and Blaise. "Why are you helping me? And
more importantly, why do you want to help Hermione?"

The first to answer was Theo. "First of all, we're your friends, you stupid idiot."
Draco raised a doubtful eyebrow. "And then," Theo continued, as a mischievous smirk
formed on his lips.
"As good Slytherins, each of us will have his own personal gain."

"And what would that be?" asked Draco, clenching his fists from under the table.

"Well, Pansy has hated your father all summer." The girl jerked in her chair. "Sorry Pan"
Theo continued, then turned to Draco again "but you have to admit that Lucius didn't make
life easy for her with her parents" Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Theo interrupted
him. "Yeah, yeah, you didn't know about that, we know," he rolled his eyes, then continued.
"Zabini here feels guilty for planning to assault and rape your girlfriend."

The dark-haired boy gaped at the same instant Draco's fists bumped against the wood of the
table.

"Keep your testosterone in check, friends. You can rest easy Malfoy, I think Blaise has
another one on his mind right now," he turned to Zabini, winking at him.

Blaise looked at him with a murderous look.

Pansy turned to the boy sitting next to her, tapping him on the shoulder. "Who is she? Why I
don't know anything about this? ".

Theo ignored them, turning to Draco again. "And me, well… I'm just bored."

After that he stood up, heading towards the exit.

"Where are you going?" asked Pansy.

Theodore showed the ear in his hands, pointing out to the three of them, with the corner of
his eye, that Astoria and Daphne were no longer sitting at the table. Immediately the three
boys stood up and followed him silently down the hallway.

Draco was the most tense and silent. He was the only one who really felt the weight of the
situation and of what was happening.
For his friends it was just a game.

Theo led the group with the ear in his hands, walking towards the infirmary and then turning
in the narrow corridor that led to Magnus' office.

Draco flanked him, "Do you know this place?" he asked, his heart in his throat.

His friend raised an eyebrow. "Did you really think Pansy was the only one with eyes and
ears all over the school?" he smiled, stopping in front of the door.

All four of them held their breath as he deposited the ear wire between the handle and the
lock.

Then, they ducked into a broom closet at the end of the hallway so they could listen,
inconspicuously, to what was going on inside the room.
 Magnus's voice came out clearly through the small plastic ear, as if he was standing there in
front of them.

This thing was remarkable. Brilliant, indeed.

"You can rest assured Lucius, the girl was not bitten." The blood in Draco's veins froze.

His father's voice came more distant and muffled. "Make sure she stays that way Magnus,
you don't want to undo the efforts made so far".

"I can assure you I have the situation under control."

"I certainly hope so. It would be really unfortunate if this delay of yours compromise the
operation," Lucius continued.

Although Draco couldn't see him, it wasn't hard for him to imagine his father in front of the
fireplace of his study, holding a glass of whiskey with that usual testy expression on his face.

"This situation is different from the others, Lucius. If the girl is in heat during the transfer the
chances that the operation will be succes-"

"Yes, yes. I've heard that before," Malfoy huffed bored. "Make sure she doesn't get bitten for
the next five days. You think you can handle that?" he taunted him.

"I'll do my best."

Lucius Malfoy's icy laugh echoed through the plastic ear. "I hope your best is proportional to
the amount of galleons I paid you."

Chapter End Notes

We are slowly coming to the end. I'm really excited for the next chapter (Wich is one of
my favorite) and I intend to publish it tomorrow around this same hour!

💓
Thank you so much for reading! It makes my days knowing that someone is enjoying
this
 Chapter 20
Chapter Notes

💓
Here we are, one of my favorites (along with the next one)
I really hope you'll enjoy this

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"You have to do it, Malfoy," Pansy shouted behind his back, struggling to keep up with his
long strides down the hallway.

Draco ignored her, walking out the front door and into the courtyard, breathing in the fresh
air.

His friends joined him after a few seconds. Again, Pansy was the only one to speak.

"Why aren't you happy? " she wheezed. "You wanted to bite her from the beginning, that's
clear. And apparently that's exactly what she needs."

Draco remained motionless, staring at the calm waters of the black lake. "I won't" he replied
dryly.

"What do you mean you won't?" yelled Pansy. "They can't do anything to her if you bite her.
Did you hear that? Don't you want to ruin Lucius' plan?"

Draco turned his head slightly towards her. "I want to ruin my father's plans, not Hermione's
life," he said, walking away.

He spent the next few days alone, counting the minutes until his return to the Manor. Time
seemed to slip from his hands as he mentally prepared for his return home, but it also seemed
to never pass when he thought of Hermione and how much it hurt to be away from her.

At the end of each class he would take refuge in the large courtyard, breathing in the fresh air
and occluding.

That afternoon he was contemplating the calm waters of the black lake, imagining his own
emotions as small stones slipping into it.

"Draco."

He turned around. His shoulders relaxed as he noticed that it was Theo who had called him.

The boy joined him, sitting down next to him on the shore of the lake.
They stood in silence for a few seconds, enjoying the gentle rays of sunshine and the cool
December air.

"I want to tell you that I understand," he sighed. "And I admire it."

"What?"

"The reason why you don't want to bite her."

Draco lowered his gaze. He tightened his lips into a thin line.

Theo spoke again. "But you have to choose, would you rather save her from Lucius or from
yourself?"

"I can save her from both of us."

"This situation is bigger than you, Draco."

A muscle in Draco's neck tensed.

"I have everything under control. And if things go wrong, I'll talk to the headmistress."

"And what will you tell her?"

Draco stared at his own sweaty palms. "The truth, about my father, about Magnus."

Theo threw a stone at the surface of the lake, waiting for it to finish bouncing before
answering. "And would she believe you? Would she believe someone like us? Like you?" he
stood up.
"You're going to have to choose the lesser of the two evils if you want to protect her," he
shrugged the grass off his pants.

"And we both know that's you" he concluded, walking away in the direction he had come
from.

"I'm not sure," Draco muttered to himself.

December 22th

His trunk weighed like a boulder as he dragged it onto the train. All around him he could see
smiling faces, hugs, eyes shining with excitement.

But inside he felt an emptiness, deep and tearing.

Theo and Blaise followed him silently, settling with him in the first empty compartment they
came across. The atmosphere was tense and the air heavy. Neither boy dared break the
silence and Draco was grateful for that. He watched from the window as the rest of the
students boarded the train one by one.

He hadn't seen Hermione, but maybe it was for the best. The wisest thing to do was to stay
confined to his carriage until the train arrived at the station.
After that he would apparate directly in front of the manor gates.
All would be well.
Hermione would spend the vacations with her friends, surrounded by people who would take
care of her and not put her in danger.

He dreaded the moment he would see her arrive at the platform. He felt a knot in his throat
and struggled to look away.

He tried to focus on something else.

"Where's Pansy?" he asked, only now noticing her absence in the compartment.

Blaise shrugged. "She had stopped to talk to-"

"That little bitch," thundered Pansy Parkinson's high-pitched voice, suddenly opening the
compartment doors and sitting down next to Theodore, who raised his eyebrows curiously.

As soon as the girl took her seat, the train departed. Draco let go of the tension in his
shoulders, allowing himself to wade out the window again.

"What happened?" asked Theo, but Pansy ignored him, turning to Draco instead.

"You're doing it all wrong, Malfoy," she called back to him.

Draco rolled his eyes as Pansy crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him haughtily.
"Do you know who I just spoke to?" She asked.

"Astoria, I suppose," Blaise interjected.

"No," replied the girl. "Daphne" she pushed forward.

"And do you want to know what she told me?"

"You're going to tell us anyway," Theo replied amusedly, setting his book aside for good.

"Astoria is at Hogwarts. She didn't tell me why but-"

"Impossible," Draco finally replied, his fists clenched against the seat. "She wouldn't miss
New Year's Eve dinner at Malfoy Manor."

"Exactly what I told Daphne," Pansy insisted. "And she suddenly became nervous. She said
that Astoria is staying until Christmas at Hogwarts, and then she's going home for New Year's
Eve."

The boys shrugged indifferently, and Pansy seemed irritated by that reaction.

"So? You don't have anything to say?" she nudged Draco with her foot. "Isn't that weird?"

"Why would it be weird?" the blond replied with blank eyes, his gaze fixed outside the
window.
"Because Dr. Niewald is at Hogwarts too, it's obvious-"

"Hermione will be at the Weasleys'. She'll be safe there," Draco replied, clenching his jaw.
The muscles in his neck were tense.

"What makes you so sure, Malfoy?" She crossed her legs. "I didn't see her on the train."

Draco's stomach twisted on itself.

Pansy was awakening all his doubts and fears.
What if she was right?
A battle began to take hold in his mind.

He turned to Blaise and Theo. "Did you guys see her?" he asked, as his heart began to beat at
an accelerated rate.

"I haven't seen her," Theodore replied seriously.

"I…" hesitated Zabini, feeling everyone's eyes on him. "No, but I have seen the Weaslette".

"They will definitely be together," Draco concluded.

Pansy opened her mouth to retort, but the blond glared at her.

The rest of the trip continued in relative silence inside their compartment.
A silence over which Draco's fears and guilt hovered like dementors, sucking the enthusiasm
out of everyone.

When the train reached the station, the blond remained inside his compartment until the noise
of the students' comings and goings faded completely, gaze fixed on his shoes.

Having strengthened his occlumency had not been enough to silence the voices screaming in
his head.

Hermione was about to go into heat. And he had shared that moment with her the first time.
That meant that now his body was preparing for that as well.
He could feel it. He could feel his own urges rising, the electricity coursing through his veins,
his own magic hovering in the air. And Hermione's absence, her remoteness….

It was like an emptiness in his chest, a chasm.

He said goodbye to his friends, stepping off the train and walking with eyes pointed on the
ground until he found a secluded spot where he could apparate without being seen.

On the morning that the Hogwarts Express left Hogsmeade for London, Hermione Granger
locked herself within the silent walls of a completely deserted library.

In the past she would have been happy to have that place all to herself, but now she felt a
heartbreaking sense of emptiness.
She spent that day like this, losing herself among the books until her eyelids became too
heavy to hold open.

McGonagall approached her as she left the library.

"Miss Granger," she said. "How are you feeling?"

Hermione shrugged. "Fine," she replied, hesitantly. She opened her mouth to speak, but
Mcgonagall was quicker.

"Great. If you need anything, some potions for you headache or to help you sleep, please feel
free to go to the infirmary."

"Thank you," stammered the girl uncertainly.

"Anyway, that's not why I bothered you," the headmistress continued. "Since you are here at
Hogwarts, I wanted to invite you to have dinner with the faculty on Christmas Eve."

Hermione hesitated momentarily, a sliver of hope lit up in her heart. "Thank you," she
replied, not bothering to hide the smile that invaded her features.

Mcgonagall returned her gaze, smiling warmly at her in turn and walking away a few
moments later.

Despite her fatigue, Hermione could feel her own body preparing to go into heat. The same
symptoms she hadn't paid attention to months ago now seemed unmistakable.

Being away from Draco hurt, but not as much as the thought that he was with another girl.

Astoria.

With her stomach in knots, she headed up the stairs.

She reached her own room, stepping into the small bathroom and relaxing under the warm
water. She stared in the mirror at her curves, now even more accentuated.

Her breasts were swollen and the sensitivity of her nipples had increased to the point that
even the soft fabric of her pajamas, rubbing against them, sent a shiver down her body. She
lay back between the covers, turning over and over. The pressure between her legs grew more
and more insistent, but she knew that any attempt to try and relieve it would only make it
worse.

The only thing she needed was what she couldn't have.

December 23th

Draco Malfoy had been home for 24 hours, but it felt like many more.

Every second passed like a slow, interminable agony.

His muscles were perpetually tense, his senses heightened, and his reflexes snapped at the
slightest stimulus. It was unnerving. There was no rest for his mind and body.

He spent the mornings occluding, ignoring every physical symptom. When he couldn't take it
anymore he made his way to the manor's library, hoping that losing himself in reading would
help distract him from the weight he felt in his chest.

He slowly dragged himself downstairs. Despite the pain in his own muscles, after hours spent
occluding his mind was now blank.

He opened the large wooden door, starting to wander through the shelves and enjoying the
silence and quiet.

He turned toward the section of the library where some of his favorite novels were located,
amazed to find his mother standing in front of him.

Narcissa turned at the sound of his footsteps, closing the book in her hands and giving him a
slight smile.

"Draco," she called back to him.

"Sorry," he stammered, letting his eyes wander through the shelves in searching for
something he could lose himself in for a couple of hours. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"You didn't scare me," Narcissa smiled, stepping closer. Something shone in her eyes, fading
a moment later. "I was actually hoping to talk to you, alone".

Draco tightened his jaw, continuing to scan the titles on the shelf.

"Maybe over a cup of tea?" Narcissa pushed forward, forcing her son to look into her eyes.
"Mippy," she called.

The little elf apparated at her feet.

"We'd love some tea."

A second later the little creature vanished.

His mother beckoned him to follow her towards the back of the room, where the house elves
were setting up a small tea table.

Holding his breath, Draco sat down across from his mother.
His fists clenched, every single muscle in his body tensed.
He remained silent, concentrating on the noise caused by the short comings and goings of the
house elves, curious and nervous at the same time about what Narcissa had to say.

When the elves apparated back to the kitchen and they were finally alone, the woman added
two spoonfuls of sugar to her drink.
She grabbed the cup and, after taking a long sip, finally spoke.
"I'm sorry," she said.

Draco's fingers risked letting go of the cup he held in his hands. Surprised, he looked up at
his mother.

"You didn't deserve to be alone in this situation," Narcissa's hands shook. She set the drink
down on the coffee table. "What happened was-" her voice grew faint "unexpected."

Draco exhaled deeply, closing his eyes. He knew what his mother was going to say, and he
nearly laughed. "Unexpected?" he raised an eyebrow.
"So unexpected that you couldn't send me a single letter?"

Narcissa lowered her gaze, nonetheless unable to hide the veil of sadness that furrowed her
delicate features. "We were worried, Draco. And your father…"

A bitter, forced laugh left Draco's throat. He set his cup down on the coffee table, abandoning
any rules of etiquette his mother had instilled in him since he was a child and letting the
drops of tea splash all around.

"Worried? And what, precisely, were you worried about?" he clenched his fists, sinking his
nails against his palms. "Am I mistaken, or was it you, mother, who suggested that I should
approach Hermione?" a grin took shape on his face. "Wasn't that what you meant? I'm afraid I
misunderstood."

"That's enough," shouted Narcissa. "You've gotten yourself into a situation bigger than you.
Your father and I have different views on many things" she inhaled deeply, calming her own
tone of voice "especially when it comes to deciding what would be the most appropriate way
to clear our family name."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest, aware that there was something his mother wasn't
revealing. "But? C'mon, say it".

Narcissa tightened her lips into a smiling line, pondering her answer. "I'm your mother,
Draco. You'll always have my support, no matter what."

"But?" hissed the young man, gritting his teeth, impatient for his mother to get to the point of
the matter.

Narcissa exhaled. "Your father thinks you've forgotten what family you come from."

Draco snapped to his feet with such force that his chair fell backwards.

Narcissa jerked in fright.

"I know exactly what family I'm from," he hissed. He raised the sleeve on his forearm,
exposing the black mark.

Narcissa's voice was faint and small as she spoke, ignoring Draco's forearm stretched out in
front of her. "In your veins runs the blood of two of the purest families in the magical world.
You are the last heir of the Black and Malfoy families," she lowered her eyes. "Both
bloodlines would die out if-"

"And would it really be that bad?" asked Draco exasperatedly, letting his arms go along his
sides. The mental barriers he had built that morning began to crumble one by one.
The emotions he'd been struggling to hold back flooded out like a river, welling up as tears in
his eyes.

His mother didn't respond, nervously twirling a handkerchief between her fingers, staring at
the floor.

Draco swallowed, running a hand over his face. "I would have expected this from him," he
said, his eyes blank, his features rigid. "But not from you, mother."

Narcissa's mouth dropped open in surprise, but before she could respond Draco spun on his
heels and ran out of the library.

December 24th

That morning Hermione woke up with a familiar feeling of heaviness and dizziness. She
dragged herself out of the warmth of the blankets, ignoring the tension she felt between her
legs and focusing on her stomach.

She was hungry.

She walked over to the window, where Ron's owl was carrying two small packages. She
grabbed them, smiling at the Christmas messages from her friends. After unwrapping the
presents and stepping into a freezing shower her head felt lighter, although her body
continued to rebel.

It wasn't natural what she was doing now. She shouldn't have been here like this. There was
something else she needed to do, something else…. But no.

She didn't give her mind time to think about it, nipping any images in the bud. After a hearty
breakfast, she went with her usual load of books to the library.

She hadn't even spent an hour on the books when she began to feel a deep headache. She
struggled to continue reading, despite the increasing pounding on her forehead.

When the pain became unbearable she suddenly closed the book, stroking her own sweaty
neck with one hand.
She wasn't feeling well.

She felt a strong knot in her throat, her head was spinning. Concentrating was impossible.
She thought about Mcgonagall's words and, hot and staggering, went to the infirmary hoping
that Pomfrey would be the one to welcome her and not Magnus.

She had tacitly decided, going along with her suspicions and Draco's mistrust, that it would
be best to stay away from that man.
Walking slowly she reached the infirmary.
She took a deep breath before lowering the handle.

She held her breath, peering at the empty beds as footsteps approached from the back of the
room, letting out a sigh of relief when she realized that Madam Pomfrey was there to greet
her.

"Hermione dear," the woman said. "How are you feeling?"

Hermione swallowed, her mouth dry. "Fine," she replied. "I just have a severe headache" she
clung to the edge of an empty bed.

The nurse approached her.

"I was wondering if you might have…"

The old woman helped her sit on the bed, inviting her to lie down.

"Stay here," she said, "I'll get you a potion right away."

Before Hermione could protest, the woman walked away to a cabinet at the back of the huge
room, returning a moment later with a small bottle in her hands.

Hermione grabbed it with the intention of putting it in her purse.

"Take it now," the woman insisted. "And stay here and rest. I'll be here if you need me. It
should fix you up for dinner tonight," she smiled.

Hermione, though skeptical, agreed, unscrewing the cap and downing the potion in one big
gulp.
She felt so tired… she wouldn't be able to take the stairs and walk back to her dormitory.
Her muscles were fatigued, as if she had been running for miles.

The sweet liquid of the potion slid down her throat and, after only a few seconds, the constant
pounding of her meninges against the skull seemed to subside, leaving her with a deep sense
of tiredness and drowsiness.

She let herself go against the pillows.

Pomfrey is here, she repeated, trying to calm herself down.

Just a few hours of rest, and then she'd be off to Christmas Eve dinner with McGonagall and
the rest of the teachers.

She slowly closed her eyes, lulled by the silence of the empty infirmary, broken only by
hushed voices coming from a secluded corner.
She wondered who they were…

Before her mind could formulate an answer, however, she slipped into a deep sleep.
He felt like he had a fever. His skin was burning hot. He had taken a double dose of sleeping
potion, but it had been useless: he had awakened after not even an hour in a bath of sweat.

His metabolism had accelerated.

It had been like this months ago: he had hardly slept at all, not feeling the need to.
He'd kept vigil over her, watching her chest rise and fall to the rhythm of her light breaths.
He'd eaten a lot, making sure she did too. And now, as his feet dragged him down to
breakfast, he wondered if Hermione had eaten.

Surely she had.

Molly Weasley would have cooked something warm and tasty, different from the elaborate
dishes prepared by the house elves he would find downstairs.

The discussion with his mother from the previous day was well etched in his mind.

He knew he would have to confront both of his parents that night at dinner. It was inevitable:
not even Lord Voldemort's stay within the walls of their home had been able to prevent the
three Malfoys from having dinner together on Christmas Eve.
It was an established tradition.

He helped himself to some bread with jam in an empty room, wondering what his father
would say to him when they finally met. He had been at the Manor for almost forty-eight
hours now, yet he had not had a chance to see him.
Not that it was possible to stumble upon Lucius Malfoy by accident: even inside his own
home, you couldn't find Lucius unless he himself intended to be found.

And, after all, Draco wasn't dying to see his father again.
What could he tell him?
That he'd discovered his barbaric plan?

Lucius would laugh at him, probably admonishing him for taking so long to get there.

If Hermione was safe at the Weasleys, the wisest thing would be not to mention her at all for
the duration of dinner. He would face an hour sitting at the table with his parents, discussing
his studies and other stupid things.
After that, he would lock himself in his room until the next dinner, counting down the
seconds that separated him from his return to Hogwarts.

It had been painful to keep himself away from Hermione when they were under the same
roof.
Something in his veins urged him to seek her out, to get closer to her. It was a constant effort
to resist that instinct, but it was nothing compared to the pain he felt now.
Every kilometer that separated them was like a blade against his flesh.

He spent the afternoon locked in his room, becoming more and more nervous as the hours
passed.
When the time finally came for him to go downstairs for dinner, he dragged himself with
heavy steps to the floor below.
He held his breath when the door to the huge dining room opened. His father was
immediately in front of him.

The man's lips curved into a smile, but his eyes told another story. "Draco," he approached,
peering down at him. "It's good to have you back."

"I've been here for two days" he walked past him without making eye contact, settling into
his usual spot at the long table.

Narcissa followed him a moment later.

The last to be seated was Lucius, who went to occupy his own place at the head of the table,
opposite his son. House elves began to appear from time to time, serving dinner course after
course.

His father's eyes continued to examine every slightest movement of his fingers. Draco could
feel his inquisitive gaze scrutinizing him from the opposite end of the room.

Narcissa managed to keep things peaceful during the first two courses. She was able to
engage both of them in casual, mundane topics of conversation. Although she appeared
nonchalant, Draco did not fail to notice the slight swelling of her eyes. Had she been crying
the night before?

He wondered for what reason. For him?

For Lucius?
Or perhaps for the death of the Black and Malfoy lines?
A bitter smirk took shape on his face at that thought, invading his lips before he had time to
contain it.

"What's so funny?" asked Lucius, gently setting his own cutlery down beside his plate and
wiping his face with the elegant embroidered napkin.

Draco glared at him. His fingers tightened around his fork.

Narcissa noticed the suddenly tense atmosphere, intruding on the conversation.

"We should stop by Madam McClan's and buy you a new suit for New Year's Eve dinner,
Draco," she said, her gaze pointing to her own plate. "I ran into Amalia Greengrass the other
day, she was shopping for her daugh-"

Lucius lifted his own goblet with a smirk on his face.

Draco's anger grew. He stared at his father with a murderous look.

The glass in the man's hands shattered, the wine spilled on his clothes.
The expression on his face remained helpless as he rose from his chair. The corner of his lips
bent upwards.

"I see someone is definitely excited about this dinner."

Draco huffed, rising abruptly from his chair. The wood crawled across the marble floor and
out of the corner of his eye he could see his mother shudder.
"Do you think that's funny?" he asked, staring at his father quizzically.

Lucius snapped his fingers. A house elf apparated at his feet and began to clean. The man sat
back down. "Far from it, it moves me."

His father's eyes sparkled, amused and pleased.

Draco gritted his teeth, struggling to contain the anger that was slowly rising within him.

Lucius filled the new goblet brought to him by the house elves, then raised the glass to his
son. "Young and strong, good blood does not lie".

Draco remained motionless, maintaining eye contact, refusing to look down. "And what
blood are you referring to exactly, father?"

Something shone in Lucius' eyes.

Not controlling his own tongue, Draco continued. "It seems that the concept of 'good blood'
has become relative even to you."

The man set the goblet down on the table. Any hint of amusement on his features vanished. "I
don't know what you're talking about."

His gaze darted nervously to Narcissa, and that's when Draco realized: his mother was
unaware of what was really going on.
More importantly, Lucius didn't want her to find out.
Great.
He had a weapon against him now.

"Oh," his gaze lingered on his mother, long enough for Lucius to notice.

"Then you won't mind knowing that your little blood game didn't work. I think you lost-"

"What are you talking about?" muttered Narcissa, frowning.

Lucius ignored her, "I never lose, Draco."

The young man felt his own heart stop for a moment, before it started beating again at a
doubled speed. "This time you do."

Lucius smiled, taking a sip from his glass as Narcissa continued to let her astonished gaze
flash from one end of the table to the other.

"If you're so sure," his father hissed against the surface of his glass.

That amused grin was on his lips again.

Draco felt disarmed, small and unsure. The flames in his stomach due to anger began to turn
into bile, which threatened to rise up the length of his throat. Without giving the man another
glance, he spun on his heels and slipped out of the dining room.

As the large door closed behind him, he swore he heard his mother's voice exclaim, "That
was your last chance, Lucius."

He ran to his own room. Nervousness grew in his veins, gripping his stomach. He paced back
and forth between the bed and the desk, still unable to calm his nerves. He grabbed his
feather and parchment and sent a message to Theodore, hoping he would answer soon.

He needed someone to help him calm down. The conversation with his father had triggered
something inside him.
He had a bad feeling, one that grew worse as the minutes passed. He stared at the hands of
the clock for about an hour. When the owl who had delivered the message made no sign of
returning, he grabbed the floo powder and slipped into the fireplace.

"Nott Manor," he shouted.

The instant the green flames enveloped him, he wondered why Theodore had not answered.

It was Christmas Eve.

His father was in Azkaban, he should be alone at the Manor.

But what if he wasn't home? He probably was at Zabini's.

"Oh for Merlin's beard."

The expletive reached his ears before his eyes focused on the image of Theo's head between
Pansy Parkinson's bare legs, stretched out on the couch in Nott Manor's huge living room.

Draco staggered to his feet, immediately turning back against the wall.
"I'm sorry I-" he stammered.

"I thought you were with Blaise, I needed to talk to someone and-"

"Merry Christmas to you too, Malfoy," muttered Pansy.

Theo let go a sigh of frustration, zipping up his pants. "What's going on, Draco?"

Draco turned around, suddenly feeling embarrassed, but remembering at the same time why
he was there.

"I…" he seesawed his gaze between his two friends.

Pansy sat down on the couch, crossing her legs and inviting the two boys to do the same.
"You're here now, Draco," she said, reaching out to grab the half-empty bottle of fireweaskey
on the coffee table. "Go on, talk."

Draco swallowed, meeting Theo's eyes and reading the apprehension in his gaze.
"My father… He said something, about Hermione. And I think-" he felt sweat run down his
own neck. "That something's going on, I don't think she's safe."

"I knew it," Pansy cursed, setting the bottle down on the coffee table. "I warned you that
something was going to happen," she stood up, pointing her finger at Draco and Theo, "and
none of you idiots listened to me."

"Okay, let's try to stay calm" Theo began, placing himself between Draco and Pansy. "Why
do you think Hermione is in danger now? You were sure she was going to be at the
Weasleys', right?"

"Yeah, that's what she said," the blond replied, bringing his hands to his temples.

"Idiot," muttered Pansy.

"Excuse me?"

"She told you something and you immediately believed her? Okay, she's Granger, champion
of justice and blablabla," she rolled her eyes, "but didn't even cross your mind the idea that
she might, I don't know, be lying?"

"Why would she-"

"Because you already had wonderful vacations planned with your darling little girlfriend
Astoria. Trust me, no one missed the official invitation delivered under the eyes of the entire
school," her lips curved into a grimace.

Theo tried to interrupt her. "Are you saying that Hermione Granger might not be at the
Weasley's? Why would she lie about this?"

Pansy huffed. "Do I really have to explain everything to you?" she looked first at Draco, then
at Theo. "Draco was going to spend the vacations with Astoria, so she said she would be
there to pay him back in the same coin."

At the confused expressions on the faces of the two boys she let her arms go along her sides
in frustration.

"Oh come on. Who the heck lives in that dilapidated hovel? Her ex, you idiots."

Draco's gaze was absorbed, pointed at the fireplace.

"Okay, Sherlock-" began Theo, turning to Pansy.

"Who?"

"-nothing, never mind. Where do you think she is, then?"

"In her home? In the Muggle world?" the expression on Pansy's face became serious.

She looked towards the blond. "Draco, what do you think?"

The blonde looked up again. "In the Muggle world…" his heart began to beat rapidly. "She
would be in danger there. Her parents are Muggles, they won't know how to help her, and if
someone wanted to take her…. She wouldn't be safe-"

"Calm down." Theo extended a hand over his shoulder. "You're probably just panicking."

"I have a bad feeling about this." Draco's gaze was pointed out the window. His instinct was
screaming.

"What would you like to do? Apparate in Muggle London to find her? And then what?"
Pansy crossed her arms over her chest. "You don't even know her address."

Draco opened his mouth to retort, closing it a moment later. She was right. He had no idea
where Hermione lived. He began pacing back and forth in front of the huge fireplace of
Nott Manor.

His palms were sweaty to the point where his wand slipped from his fingers.

"You're not going to calm down, are you?" sighed Theo.

Draco froze, lifting his gaze. His breathing had become heavy from the adrenaline coursing
through his veins.

"Fucking hormones," cursed Pansy, bending down to grab her shoes from the floor. She
continued to mutter to herself as she reattached her ankle boots.

"What are you doing?" asked Draco.

"I'm getting ready," she replied, as if he had asked the most absurd thing in the world.
"Because I already know what you're thinking and - trust me, Malfoy - if you go alone it
would be worse."

The two looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds before Theo cut in. "Will someone
explain to me what's going on?" he asked.

Pansy grabbed him by the wrist, wrapping her other hand around Draco's arm. "I can't believe
I'm actually doing this," she exclaimed theatrically, before she felt the familiar feeling of
pressure in the pit of her stomach.

In a puff of air, the three of them apparated.

"ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MINDS?!" yelled Theo, looking around the wide prairie a few
hundred yards from the Weasley's house, visible at the end of the path.

Draco took to walking at long, fast strides as his friends struggled to keep up.

"Can you explain what we're doing here?" gasped Theodore, slowing his pace when they
were close enough to hear laughter coming from the walls of the house.
Draco stopped short. "I just have to-" he swallowed, looking around as if examining
something. "I just need to see her. Something's wrong, I can feel it, but…"

"What does that mean?" asked Pansy.

Continuing to stare at the dilapidated house before him, Draco inhaled deeply through his
nostrils.

"She's not here."

"Are you sure-"

"Malfoy?!" The three Slytherins jerked in fright. They both turned in the opposite direction of
the house, discovering, under the faint light of the moon, two figures standing before them.

Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley.

The redhead, unlike Potter, was pointing her wand at them.

Theo put his own aside, raising his hands. "This isn't necessary. We're just here to-" he froze,
unsure whether or not to confess.

Everyone's eyes were on Draco.

He ignored Potter, turning to the girl at his side.

"Is Hermione here?"

Ginny opened her mouth wide, seemingly surprised. After only a second she lowered her
wand, frowning.

"You?!" she exclaimed. "Of course, I should have figured out, how stupid of me."

"Figured what out?" asked Potter puzzled, glaring at Draco. "What do you want with
Hermione?"

"It's complicated, but she might be in danger," the blond replied. "I just need to know… She's
not here, isn't she?"

The expression of the boy who lived tinged with concern upon seeing Draco's sincerity and
desperation.

"What's going on?" asked Harry again.

There was a pause. "She's not here, no."

Draco exhaled. "Is she at her parents'? What's her address? We need to go get her and…"

"Her parents?" echoed Harry, confused.

The expression on his face became furious.
Ginny gently rested a hand on his shoulder, then stepped forward, speaking for him. "Tell us
why you think Hermione is in danger" .

Draco sighed. "It's long to explain, and-"

"Hey lovebirds" a voice, coming from the house, made all five of them jump.

The voice grew closer and Draco recognized it.

"You better get back inside, mom and dad are starting to doubt your 'little walk' "
George Weasley squinted his eyes, staring in amazement at the three unexpected guests.

"Did you organize a party without inviting me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Then his expression turned sullen. "What do you want?"

"We're here for Hermione," Theodore replied, staring at George blankly.

The newcomer scrutinized the Slytherin from head to toe. Then he turned his gaze to the
Burrow, bringing a hand to his chin.

"Yes, it does look a lot like the Hogwarts Castle. I understand your confusion."

"Hogwarts?" exclaimed Pansy.

Draco's mind began to race wildly, projecting image after image of creepy scenarios.

Hogwarts.

Hermione was at Hogwarts.

As her mind regained contact with the outside world, Hermione realized that the warmth of
the blankets she had fallen asleep on had vanished.
Her head was still heavy, as were all her muscles.

She didn't have the strength to lift her eyelids and open her eyes, but she knew there was a
light pointed at her.

The surface beneath her was hard and cold.

She tried to get up, but despite the effort her muscles did not move an inch. She was too
tired… or maybe… something was immobilizing her.

Unable to open her eyes, she focused on the noises she could hear. Footsteps in the distance.
The soft clink of metal against a surface.

Her heart began to beat rapidly. This was not the infirmary.

She was not in the bed she had fallen asleep on.
 She forced her eyes to open.
As soon as her eyelids lifted, her pupils were blinded by a strong white light. She closed them
suddenly, bending her neck to the side, the only part of her body she could move.

"She's awake," cursed a male voice.

She heard footsteps, then the voices grew closer.

"Impossible, the potion should have kept her sedated all night."

"It didn't work, clearly," wheezed another voice.

It was so close. If only she could see… but the white light continued to blind her.

"We need more of it, quickly."

"There isn't any more."

There was a moment of silence and, for a second, Hermione thought she was dreaming.
But it couldn't be a dream… It was cold.
Too cold.

"She can't stay awake.

Stupeficium."

Chapter End Notes

Sooo, how do you think Hermione ended there? Where do you think she is?

It will be explained in the next chapter but I'm curious to know your theories.
 Chapter 21
Chapter Notes

💓
I'm sorry for the anxiety I caused you with the previous chapter!
I hope you'll enjoy this one

The three Slytherins remained motionless, astonished. Ginny, Harry and George continued to
stare at them in confusion.

The more seconds passed, the more everyone's concern grew.

"Can you explain what's going on?" gasped Ginny, turning away from Harry and scrutinizing
Draco from head to toe.

The concern of the three intruders was so obvious that Ginny, Harry, and even George
couldn't ignore it, let alone believe that it wasn't real.

Draco didn't respond. Adrenaline was coursing through his blood, mixing with his hormones.
His magic grew so much that sparks shot out of his wand, releasing into the air like bullets
and forcing everyone to step back.

"I have to go to Hogwarts," he managed to say. His tone of voice was resolute
and couldn't be questioned.

"We can apparate to Hogsmeade and from there-" Theo was interrupted by Pansy.

The girl took a step toward the blond. Her tone of voice should have been authoritative, but
her agitation betrayed her. "Don't even think about it, Draco."

The blond merely lifted his gaze from his shoes, meeting his friend's eyes for a second.

"You'll splinch," Pansy continued. Her eyes were bright and pleading. Her upper lip
trembled. Draco couldn't bring himself to listen to her words. It was as if, somehow, they
couldn't reach his brain.

His mind was overwhelmed by the fear, now certainty, that Hermione was in danger.

He thought of her. Of Hogwarts.

He focused his magic.

He felt it, as strong as ever.

Although it was a quiet evening, suddenly a gust of wind sent everyone reeling. They closed
their eyes for a moment, overwhelmed by the turbulence.

Pansy's heart skipped a beat, and by the time she managed to move her black hair from her
face, Malfoy had vanished.

Draco apparated in front of the Hogwarts's gates.

He knew that he had risked his life, that it was impossible to apparate there, that he could
have splinched himself in half.
The rational part of himself knew that. But that part no longer existed, not now.

His magic was powerful. He had read about it. To protect his omega an alpha would do
anything. Anything.

They had seemed hollow and pretentious at the time, but now, as he took off running down
the path that led to the school's entrance, he understood their true meaning.

The castle was silent. The Christmas decorations glowed and his eyes were blinded for a few
seconds before he got used to the light.

He had a moment of hesitation, standing in the front doorway. Where could Hermione be?
Where had they taken her?

He risked losing his breath as his mind thought that maybe he was too late, maybe she wasn't
here anymore. That stream of thought was interrupted when he heard voices in the distance.
He approached slowly, spying from around the corner the headmistress waving goodbye to
two of the teachers and walking alone down the hall.

Yes, McGonagall was the best person to talk to. He waited until the woman was alone, then
started walking behind her.

Before he had a chance to flank her, however, she turned, wand pointed at his chest. As soon
as her eyes recognized him she lowered her wand, though her features remained tense.

She glowered at him. "Mr. Malfoy," she said, motioning for him to follow her into her study.

When the door closed behind them, the woman silenced the room with a spell.

The young man found himself displaced. His andrenaline, consumed by the effort to apparate
beyond the protections spells and the race along the path, was beginning to diminish, leaving
him with only a strong tachycardia. Sweat began to cool on his skin, making him shiver.

The woman walked toward her desk, but before she could sit down he spoke. "Hermione is in
danger."

Mcgonagall looked at him skeptically, raising an eyebrow. "No student is in danger within the
walls of my school. I understand that your biol-"
"Please," the Slytherin continued harriedly, abruptly interrupting her. "I'm certain she is."

The woman seemed to falter for an instant, but after that her features hardened again, with
such speed that the young man thought he had imagined that brief moment of hesitation that
crossed her eyes. "You're not thinking straight," she stated, adjusting her glasses.

Draco felt exasperated, the anxiety was consuming him.

He was ready to confess, to tell her of his father's plans. He would show his memories if
necessary. He no longer cared if Lucius would be sent to Azkaban, or if he himself would be
considered guilty. He just wanted to save Hermione.

"Did you see her?" he asked. "Have you seen Hermione this evening?" his hands shook in
anger and fear.

The headmistress noticed it, nevertheless straining to maintain her composure. She frowned,
as if she was rethinking something.

Draco took advantage of that moment of distraction. "I know something is going on. I'll
explain everything. But right now you need to find Hermione, please " he ran a hand through
his hair. His forehead was burning.
"Where are Dr.Niewald and Pomfrey?"

McGonagall opened her mouth wide in reply, then she closed it again. Her expression
focused for a moment on the floor. "Dr. Niewald got a free floo channel so to spend
Christmas Eve with his family, but-" the woman paused, her eyes meeting those of the blond-
"Poppy was supposed to have dinner with the faculty this evening, yet she didn't show up."

Draco held his breath, watching as the Mcgonagall walked past her desk and headed down
the hallway. She motioned for him to follow.

Without exchanging a word, the two walked down the corridor until they reached the
infirmary.

They opened the door. Empty. There was no one on the bed, all perfectly intact.

All but one, the one by the door.

Draco walked over to the one bed in disarray as the headmistress forced the closed door to
the nurse's office with a spell.

He let his own fingers run over the sheets, still vaguely warm.
Then he grabbed the pillow, sinking his face into its soft surface.
He breathed in Hermione's scent at the top of his lungs.

He ran towards the old woman, who was uttering spells under her breath with her wand
pointed at the handle.

"She's been here," he shouted, growing more and more nervous.

Mcgonagall didn't respond, keeping her own gaze pointed at the doorknob. After a few
seconds, she lowered her own wand in frustration.

"Whoever put these wards in place has had some time to plan their moves," she turned her
gaze, examining the wall beside the door. "Take a step back, Malfoy," she said, moving her
wand and pointing it at the wall. "Bombarda maxima."

The blond did not flinch, throwing himself forward as soon as the spell hit the wall. As the
dust from the shattered rubble just began to dissipate, he recognized the figure of a woman
bound and gagged in a chair in the office: Madame Pomfrey.
He ran to help her, freeing first her mouth and then her hands.

The woman stood up, joined a moment later by Mcgonagall, who helped her to her feet.

"What happened, Poppy?"

"Dr. Niewald was here, along with someone else. They crashed me, I don't know what
happened next but…" she paused, bringing a hand against her chest and trying to catch her
breath.

"Hermione was here," Draco affirmed. He didn't have to ask, he knew, "Where is she now?"

"She was never here," Poppy replied. "Not until-" she stopped. She looked toward the
headmistress. "Minerva, we need to find the girl."

Although Minerva had initially been skeptical of Draco's words, she seemed resolute in the
face of the nurse's.

She exited through the crack in the wall, stepping over the rubble. Draco followed without a
word, flanked by Pomfrey.

They entered Magnus's office, which was a few feet away. Unlike Madam Pomfrey's, there
were no wards protecting the door here.

Strange, Draco thought to himself. Too strange.

His sixth sense was screaming.

They were walking into a trap, he could feel it.

It was all a diversion, a way to waste their time so it would be too late when they found
Hermione. That meant that whatever they were doing to her, it was something irreversible.

The office was empty and oddly orderly. Far too neat for Draco's taste.

As Mcgonagall examined the fireplace to find out what had been the last destination reached
through it, Draco turned to Madam Pomfrey.

"You haven't seen Hermione?" he asked again.

The woman's eyes, unlike the headmistress' ones, looked at him charged only with pure
apprehension.

"No dear, I'm sorry"

"But.." he swallowed, "Hermione was in the infirmary, I'm sure of it" he froze, not knowing
how to continue.
"Hermione didn't trust him, not completely."

"Neither did I," the nurse murmured softly. She reached out a hand to his arm. "We'll find
her."

After that she moved away, circling the man's desk. She peered through a series of drawers,
apparently finding nothing of interest.
"Revelio," she whispered.

A faint white light spilled out from the tip of her wand, sweeping across the room,
enveloping it like a bubble. The nurse murmured another incantation, which Draco did not
recognize, and after a few seconds a red light shone behind the bookcase on the opposite
wall.

Mcgonagall remained impassive, continuing undaunted to cast her spells on the fireplace.

Draco followed Pomfrey to the bookcase. The shelf shifted.

The books fell to the floor, revealing two half-empty flasks.

He reached over and grabbed one, lifting the cap and sniffing the potion inside.

"Polyjuice."

The nurse crossed his gaze, merely nodding with the other small bottle clutched between her
fingers.

Draco's heart was beating wildly. Two polyjuice potions.

What had they used them for? Who was it that was helping the man?

"Done," stated Mcgonagall from the opposite end of the room.

Draco gasped, reaching the fireplace with only two strides. Some sort of glowing map floated
above it, supported by Minerva's wand.
A small green light illuminated an area to the northwest. Draco knew that area; it wasn't far
from Malfoy Manor.
Several magical families resided in those parts.

McGonagall lowered her wand and the map vanished.

She looked towards Draco and the nurse. "Surely they must have taken her there."
She grabbed the floo powder and stepped inside the fireplace. "Poppy, alert Shakebolt at the
Ministry. And the Weasleys as well," she lowered her gaze, "they're the only family she has."

She turned then to Draco, handing him the floo powder. "Malfoy, let's go."

Draco's mind was racing, as was his heart. His instincts suggested that something was wrong.
That wasn't where he needed to go. Hermione wasn't there.

If Hermione was at the location indicated on the map…. It meant she had been within
walking distance of his house.
She had been so close.

Could it be that he hadn't felt anything?

His magic should have warned him.

One way or another, he was able to recognize the feeling of being away from her: he knew
his instinct so well by now.
And something inside him had changed since he had set foot on the grounds of Hogwarts.
He had felt in the right place.

He paused for a moment, concentrating on his body, and felt the perennial ache of the
previous days subside.

Hermione was close, he was sure of it. Hermione was under his same roof.

"No," he replied.

Mcgonagall squinted her eyes. "What?"

"Hermione's not there," he affirmed. "She's here, somewhere."

"You mean, here at Hogwarts?" interjecte Pomfrey, incredulous and frightened at the same
time.

"Mr. Malfoy, your judgment is not clear," the headmistress replied coldly. "If you do not wish
to follow me, I'll go alone."

Draco didn't reply, remaining to watch her authority figure fade into a green blaze. Without
addressing the woman left with him in the room, he slipped out.

He let his feet guide him, breaking down all his mental barriers and allowing that part of
himself to take total control of his body and his magic.

It was the only way of finding her.

His feet dragged him to the dungeons.

Sparks flew from his wand from time to time: his magic was like a bomb, ready to explode at
any moment.
He reached the outside of the Slytherin common room, pausing in front of the wall that
enclosed the secret entrance. He was filled with a strange feeling.

The hallway was dark and quiet, it was different from how he remembered it.

He entered his old dormitory, now guided only by his instinct.

He looked around the deserted common room. All the lights were off. It was strange.

Could it be that no Slytherins had stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas?

It wasn't just the fact that the common room was empty and dark that was creepy.
It seemed lifeless, dead.
No sign of students passing through, as if it had never been used. The tables and chairs were
perfectly tidy, not a single misplaced book on the bookshelf.

He walked along the outline of the room, observing every detail, until he reached the large
fireplace.
He ran his fingers over the dark stone shelf: dust.

He glanced at the objects before him, it was everywhere.

His heart stopped for a moment.

He stood at attention instantly, holding his wand out in front of him.

The house elves would never let dust accumulate.

This meant that… House elves did not know about this place.

This wasn't the Slytherin common room.

As that realization solidified in his mind, he began to cast spells against all the walls.

The bookcase shattered, shards of paper ignited, falling to the floor in piles of ash. The stones
embedded in the wall crumbled, revealing more stones behind them, identical. He kept hitting
them, again and again. Nothing happened.
The stones continued to crumble and, magically, more appeared.

Someone had enchanted this place.

He was on his way to find Hermione. He could feel it. He just had to concentrate.

He stopped in the middle of the room, trying to think. In front of him was the fireplace, the
only thing he hadn't hit yet.
He took a deep breath.

"Bombarda Maxima."
The dark marble that covered it shattered into a thousand pieces, releasing like sharp
shards in his direction. He bent over on his back, covering his face with his arms.

As the dust began to dissipate his eyes focused on a small metal door on the wall where the
large fireplace had once stood.

He pounced on it, pressing his ears against the icy metal.

Despite the buzzing in his eardrums from the explosions of moments before, he could clearly
make out the harried, nervous voices inside the room.

He lost control.

His magic exploded: the small door flew off its hinges, flying backwards until it hit the back
wall.

Suddenly all noise ceased. His nostrils immediately recognized the smell in the room:
Hermione's blood.
However, his eyes focused on what was in front of him.

He recognized Dr. Niewald along with two other men wearing lab coats. The three of them
began to cast spells in his direction, but were unable to hit him.

His magic had created a shield, a sort of invisible bubble around his body.
He knew what that meant. It wasn't to protect himself.
He stepped forward, ignoring the three men and crashing them into the wall with a simple
wave of his wand.

When they where out of his way, he was finally able to see what was hidden behind their
bodies.

Two operating tables.

His heart stopped.

Hermione lay on one of them, covered only by a light gown.

He ran to her, wrapping his own arms around her sleeping body. He paid no attention to the
body lying on the table next to hers, or to the men who continued in vain to cast spells at him.

There was only her, Hermione. And now that he had found her, he had to get her to safety.

Her body was warm. That warmth ignited him. His arms held her more tightly, lifting her up.

"A-a-l-" a faint quiver left her lips.

She was awake, perhaps he had arrived in time.

The walls shook from the power with which his magic grew.

He closed his eyes, focusing on somewhere safe, somewhere he could take her. He held her
tightly as the familiar feeling of apparating pervaded his stomach.
Suddenly he was overcome by a cold breeze. He opened his eyes: it had worked.
They were no longer at Hogwarts.

Draco apparated them in an unused Malfoy residence along the south coast of England.
The wind blew hard in the frosty night.

Hermione's warm body trembled against his chest as he carried her inside the cottage. He was
certain now: he held the most precious thing of the world in his arms.

He had lost touch with his own mind. There was only her. The desire to protect and save her
was even stronger than the anger towards those who had tried to hurt her.

He laid her gently on the bed, leaning over her. He observed her face and every inch of her
body.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, breathing an inch from her lips.

Hermione's hands ran down his arms, pulling at the sleeves of his sweater, clinging to him.
"Draco," she gasped, "alpha."

Draco sank his head against her shoulder, inhaling her scent as his arms wrapped around her,
holding her tightly to him.

"Stay with me Hermione" he gasped against her neck. "Please."

He lifted his head, meeting her eyes.

Two black pools, lost.

Whatever they had done to her, she was in heat now. Hermione Granger wasn't there
anymore.

It was another person whose hands were now climbing his chest, whose nails were sinking
into his flesh.

The realization hurt. He wanted his omega, but he also wanted Hermione.

He could no longer discriminate his feelings. For him, there was only one person.
Her. And he realized in that moment that he loved her with all of himself.

He inhaled deeply, feeling any little bit of residual self-control slip away from him. He closed
his eyes, surrendering to the feeling of her scent so close, her soft, warm body in his arms.

When he opened them again, meeting Hermione's dilated pupils, their lips darted to each
other. His hands slid to the her chest, forcibly tearing away the gown they had covered her in.
He gazed at her naked body, lit only by the moonlight coming through the window.
His lips moved to her breasts and the moan that left her mouth was like a rush of adrenaline
for his nervous system.

However, there was still something he had to do.

Someone had tried to hurt his omega.
He inhaled against her skin one last time before parting from her. A moan left Hermione's
soft lips.

"Wait here," he told her. He cast a warming spell on the bed she lay on, starting outside a
moment later.

He had to get back to Hogwarts. He had to find out what they had done to her and make sure
they paid the consequences. The contact with his omega had strengthened his magic to the
point where he was able to apparated directly in the dungeon with no efforts.

He reached the dummy common room he had destroyed only minutes before. The small
metal door was wide open.

As he had expected, the room was empty now.

There was only one body in there, lying sprawled on the operating table next to the one
Hermione was on.

He approached.

Astoria.

The girl opened her eyes slightly, frightened.

She looked at him with a terrified air, staggering on her feet in a clumsy attempt to get off the
table and walk away.

Draco was the first to speak. "Where are they?"

The girl didn't answer, leaning against the wall farthest from him and cowering against it.

The young man took a step forward. "I said, where are they?"

Astoria slumped to the floor, bursting into tears.

Though initially surprised by that reaction, Draco did not falter. Before he formulated the
question again, however, the girl spoke.

"I think they're at my house," she sobbed. Her face was red from tears. "At the Manor." She
brought her hands to her face. "I'm sorry, I-"

Draco didn't listen to what else she had to say. And for the umpteenth time that night, he
apparated, breaching the the wards of both the school and the Greengrass Manor.

He didn't know what he was going to do. He only knew he had to find them.

The wind to the north was even colder.

The Greengrass Manor was almost as imposing as the Malfoy Manor, but not nearly as
elegant under the silvery moonlight.

He walked quickly down the dirt path and crossed the threshold, holding his breath.

Someone was there, he could hear voices. Several voices.

He walked down the entrance corridor, following the buzz to the door of the main hall.

He turned the corner and saw Magnus, together with the other two men he had met a few
moments before. They were on their knees, their hands tied behind their backs. Shakebolt and
Mcgonagall were standing in front of them.

The new Prime Minister snapped at the boy as soon as he saw him, but the headmistress
motioned him to lower his wand, admonishing him with her gaze.

With a grimace, Shackebolt let McGonagall approach Draco, remaining to guard the three of
them.

"We only found them. She wasn't here. But we'll find her," Minerva said, shaking some ash
from her robe.

Draco swallowed.
They didn't know. They didn't know about Hermione.

"She's safe," he merely replied, taking one last look at the cloaked and silenced men on the
floor.

The feeling of oppression in his chest eased. They had them. They would never hurt her
again. Now he could return to her, be with her.

He turned, starting down the path he had come from and heading for the exit.

The headmistress followed him. "If you know where Hermione is, Mr. Malfoy, you better say
so now. The girl needs to be visited and-"

Draco stopped his steps, turning to meet the woman's gaze. His grey eyes glared at her and, in
her rigidity, she let out a hint of hesitation.

"Mr. Malfoy," she resumed, instantly composing herself. "Please use logic as you have done
so far. The girl may be hurt."

"She's fine," he replied icily.

"You can't know that. I appeal to your lucidity. Although she has no protection under the law
in this condition, I will make sure that-"

"I will not harm her."

The woman took a step forward. A cautious, calculated movement, as one does when
approaching an unpredictable animal that could attack or flee you at any moment.

"Malfoy, your situation is precarious, and if Hermione is hurt in any way-"

But it was too late. The woman's words were useless. Draco had let down far too many of his
own barriers that night. It was not possible now to silence the certainty in his head that he
was the only one at that moment who could take care of Hermione.
And he would do it.
Nothing and no one could have stopped him.

So it was that, in a gust of wind that disrupted the old woman's stiff chignon, the young man
disappeared, apparating far away.

His feet landed on the soft lawn in front of the cottage and, at the same instant, his lungs
filled with air, as if he had been holding his breath the whole time he had been away.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the small entrance, Hermione's warm body, wrapped
only in a light sheet, pounced on him.
She was trembling.

"Sorry," he murmured against her ear, desperately wrapping his hands around her body and
lifting her up. He laid her down on the bed, leaning over her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered against her neck.

"I'm sorry. I'll never leave you again." He inhaled her scent, kissing and licking the skin of
her neck.

God, her skin. He felt like he was breathing again.

Hermione's hands clung to his sweater, pulling at the fabric, scratching the skin of his arms.

Obeying her request, Draco slipped off that piece of fabric that separated them, pressing his
bare chest against hers.

A moan left the girl's lips. Arousal flowed down her legs, stronger than the first time.

Her small hands caressed his chest, sliding down his abdomen and lower and lower.

She needed him. She wanted to feel him, wanted him inside her. The desire was so intense it
was painful.

Draco, whose lips were lost on her breasts, lifted his head up, grabbing her wrist hard and
pulling her away from the zipper of his pants.

"Not yet," he replied menacingly, pressing both of her small hands against the mattress as his
lips slid downward. He caressed every inch of skin that separated her belly from her breasts.
It was like a drug.
He felt lost and totally addicted. He couldn't resist it. He had deprived himself of it for too
long.

"I'm sorry," he kept repeating each time his lips lifted from her skin, before sinking back into
it again.

He released Hermione's wrists from his grasp, wrapping his own hands around her soft legs,
drowning in them.

The girl's hands tightened around his hair.

His long, slender fingers sank into her white flesh as his tongue lost itself in the divinity of
her flavor.

Hermione's hands pulled at his hair hard. She was impatient, she couldn't hold on any longer.
"Al-phaa."

Draco exhaled deeply. An ominous, dark sound left his throat.

He jerked up, freeing himself from his pants. In a split second he was on top of her, holding
onto his elbows as he contemplated her face, illuminated by the moon's faint rays.

He settled between her legs. His penis throbbed with arousal.

His muscles trembled with the effort of restraining himself from sinking into her hard.

He wished he had taken it easy. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He didn't want to lose
control. He'd promised himself it wouldn't happen again…. Yet there it was, happening again.

Hermione's eyes stared back at him, lost and absorbed, suspended between his triceps
trembling with exertion. The tip of his penis barely grazed her hot, wet entrance.

"Hermione" that name left his throat like a cry of pain. The last effort to hold back that
animalistic instinct inside him was consumed in that instant with those last two words.

"I'm sorry."

He sank into her. Desperately.

Hermione moaned, clinging to his muscular arms.

Her nails sank into his flesh as her hands began to run down his back, trying to draw him to
her even more, even closer. Her legs were completely open for him as he lost himself inside
her with desperation and pain.

The pace of his thrusts grew rapid and inexorable, stronger than it had ever been. Her walls
tensed in an effort to accommodate his violent thrusts. The tip of his penis continued to sink
deeper and deeper.

The sound of their bellies colliding was intertwined with the muffled moans that left
Hermione's mouth.
It was exactly what she wanted. It was what she needed. There was no other place she wanted
to be.

One of Draco's hands came down her side, gripping her thigh tightly. With a firm grip on it,
he tilted it upward, creating an angle that made them both sigh.
The muscles in Hermione's belly began to contract. She could feel him, full length, sinking
into her, hitting that specific spot that gave her goose bumps. And the way his pelvis collided
with her clit offered the best friction she could wish for.

She closed her eyes as sparks formed beneath her eyelids. Her lips parted in a silent scream,
muffled by Draco's mouth as he pounced on her. Every muscle in her body twitched.

There was nothing sweet or gentle about this. Draco's thrusts maintained their frantic,
desperate rhythm despite the contractions in Hermione's belly. Her body trembled with the
intensity of her orgasm as the young man's teeth clamped down on her lower lip. Shaken with
pleasure, she wrapped her arms around his neck, inviting him to sink a few inches lower.

She longed for his teeth there, on her glands. She let his head fall back on the bed, fully
exposing the skin that stretched from her collarbones to her chin.

Draco obeyed her arms, sliding down her rosy neck. His lips rested on her soft skin.

He inhaled deeply.

His muscles tensed, his thrusts accelerated.

"Alpha, please," the words left Hermione's mouth like a moan and a prayer.

Draco dared to let his tongue run over that delicate skin, savoring it.
"I love you, Hermione".
 Chapter 22
Chapter Notes

Warning: smut is coming

See the end of the chapter for more notes

His body felt as alive as ever. His senses were in ecstasy.

Hermione was sleeping against his chest. The night was quiet and still, the sound of her
breaths intertwined with the waves of the sea crashing on the cliff. He stroked her shaggy
hair, so extraordinarily soft.

He had often imagined what it would be like to sink his fingers into that messy mass of curls,
but he had never thought they could be so soft. It had been a pleasant surprise, along with so
many other things.

His heart was still beating rapidly. Although he had lost control, he hadn't bitten her.

He couldn't do that to her after what she'd been through.

It wasn't what she really wanted, he kept telling himself. And how could he look at himself in
the mirror knowing he had permanently marked her, against her will, forcing her to be bound
to him forever.

The fact that she had invited him to do it had only been an effect of the hormones, the fear,
the trauma she had experienced.

If she had really wanted it…

No, he didn't want to fool herself.

Probably once regained her lucidity she would change her mind, maybe she would have even
thank him for not biting her.
Or maybe she would run away terrified.

But in the meantime he could enjoy her presence, at least for a few more days.

He had no idea about how much time had actually passed since her heat started.
That would certainly affect the time he had left to spend with her.

He remembered what he had admitted to himself, and out loud, the night before: there was no
difference to him now.

Whether she was Hermione Granger or his omega was not important. He just loved her. It
was a feeling so deep and visceral that he couldn't, and wouldn't, believe it was just due to
hormones.

No, it wasn't.

The change of the last period had only accentuated a feeling that had been slowly
consolidating over the years. And when all the social impositions and the castles of false
beliefs he'd grown up on had crumbled, he'd finally recognized her for what she really was: a
brilliant, intelligent, beautiful, fucking sexy witch.
Even ruthless if necessary, something that had haunted him ever since that slap on the third
year.

That's how he spent that night: tormenting himself in fear of losing her, admitting his feelings
to himself, breathing in Hermione's scent and caressing her skin.

When the sun slowly began to rise, Hermione slowly opened her eyes, remaining enchanted
to contemplate the diaphanous skin of the young man illuminated by the dawn's light.

If it wasn't for that SectumSempra scar on his chest, she wouldn't have believed he was real.

Such a level of perfection was not humanly possible. His body, the features of his face, his
silver eyes and slinky, smooth, snow-white hair: it was magical.
Their eyes met and, for a few seconds, they simply stared at each other.

But deep down they both knew that this platonic moment wouldn't last long. The air all
around them was electrified by their respective magic, joining in a dance whenever their
bodies brushed against each other.

It wasn't just physicality, not anymore. There was so much more.

They spent the next forty-eight hours after Christmas Eve like this, losing themselves in each
other's bodies.

Draco, even as they slept, would wrap his arms around Hermione or have her fall asleep on
his chest, holding her close. He wanted as little distance between them as possible.
His protective instincts had grown abnormally after the events of the last few days.
He didn't know how he could ever separate himself from her.

It was December 26th, he thought, watching the sun rise outside the window on the second
morning since their arrival. Hermione was sleeping tenderly, her chest rising and falling with
the rhythm of her breaths, the dawn lights illuminating the room slightly, highlighting those
lovely freckles on her face.
The wind blew quietly and the rustling of the trees leaves that surrounded the cottage
mingled with the chirping of the birds that lived on them.

Draco looked around the room, thinking of the nearest village he could reach to get food.
The fruit, which grew on the enchanted trees around the property, was no longer enough to
feed them both.
Perhaps he could call one of the Manor's house elves, and maybe….

No, that was out of the question.

He would have to avoid all contact with Lucius for as long as possible, at least while
Hermione was in this vulnerable state.

When she will recover he would he finally talk to her about the situation, confessing the
whole truth.

After that he would accept anything.

He would turn himself in to Mcgonagall and the Prime Minister if that was what she wanted.
Although the mere thought that she might consider him guilty of what had happened to her
was like a stab in his chest.

Taking one last look at that blissfully sleepy face, and depositing a kiss on her soft, shaggy
hair, he got out of bed. He headed out of the cottage, breathing in the fresh air and
contemplating the view, thinking again about what could be the nearest and safest destination
to get food.
He had a few galleons with him still. He figured it would be a good idea to go to Gringotts
and pick up as much gold as he could before his father decided to officially disinherit him.

He brought his hands to his temples, inhaling slowly.

One problem at a time. His priority now was feeding Hermione something different from
apples and orange juice.

As he contemplated the sun rising over the horizon and the last orange glow of dawn giving
way to the blue sky, a small silver dot caught his eye in the distance.

No, it couldn't be. He couldn't know…

That owl had never, ever brought good news since that year began. And now, as he saw it
approach with a scroll at his beak, he began to plan his next move.

What else did Lucius want from him?

He knew there was an high chance that his father hadn't been captured, but he also believed
that Lucius no longer posed a threat to him and his omega.
Hermione.
He no longer posed a threat to him and Hermione.

His accomplices had been arrested. He was left alone in his madness.

A small part of his heart hoped that even his mother had finally realized how much the man
had now lost his mind.

Inhaling slowly to calm his nerves, he reached out his hand, grabbing the parchment from the
bird's beak and unrolling it.

He immediately recognized his father's handwriting, but also noticed how it was very
different from that of his last message, the invitation to the dinner he had received at
Hogwarts.
He must have written in a hurry, probably with trembling hands. There were ink stains
scattered here and there and his handwriting lacked its rigid elegance.

I know what you've done and where you are, Draco. You can't hide there forever. I'll be
waiting for you at the Manor to discuss your future.
And the future of our family.

Lucius.

He immediately crumpled the parchment in his hands, walking back into the cottage with his
heart in his throat. His nerves were taut and ready to snap, but his mind was frightened and in
turmoil.

He had to find another place to take Hermione. A place Lucius didn't know, where he couldn't
find them.

What was there to discuss?

He had no intention of going to the Manor, he wasn't dumb enough to fall into his trap and
leave Hermione alone again. He had made that mistake once before.

The only thing he hoped was that Hermione, once she regained her clarity, would want him
by her side.

It would be so much easier that way. And more importantly, less painful.

"Draco?"

He turned his head sharply.

Hermione was on her feet. She looked awake, lucid. And she was wearing his sweater.
He swallowed as his eyes slid down her bare legs.

"Sorry I…" Hermione lowered her gaze, her cheeks blushing. "I don't have any clothes and-"
she took a deep breath, looking around. "I found myself naked and without a wand in an
unfamiliar place."

Guilt and apprehension grew in the young man's chest to the point that he even forgot about
Lucius' letter crumpled between his fingers.
"I'm sorry, you can transfigure some of my clothes for now."

He walked over, hesitantly handing his own wand to Hermione. He stood and watched as the
girl transfigured his sweater and a pair of his boxers into clothing that suited her. When she
was finished, he took courage to ask her, "how are you?"

Oddly enough, Hermione appeared calm. He thought she would start screaming, that she
would be terrified, scared, furious with him.
He mentally admonished himself for those thoughts. Hermione Granger scared? Practically
an oxymoron.

Hermione's voice brought him back to reality. "I'm fine," she sighed. "You?"

Draco squinted. "Me?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, handing him back his wand and beginning to explore the room they
were in.

"What do you remember about what happened?" He asked again, ignoring her question.

Hermione stopped suddenly in front of the window. She met his eyes, and in that instant
Draco caught a small hint of fear in them.

"Thank you for saving me," she said, lowering her gaze.

She felt embarrassed by the situation she was in. Her mind was still slightly drowsy, her
thoughts still slow. She had woken up knowing only one thing: someone had tried to hurt her
and Draco had saved her.

Him, Draco.

Ever since she'd found herself in his arms, on that operating table, she hadn't been afraid. She
knew she was safe, she could feel it.

That was why she had woken up calm. She sensed his closeness and knew that nothing could
hurt her.

She was aware that it was an irrational, hormone-driven feeling, yet it was as if it made sense
one way or another.

Draco walked over to her. "Don't, please," he swallowed, holding her gaze. "Don't thank me."

There was a moment of silence, broken again by the boy. "What do you remember?"

Hermione lowered her gaze, reflecting. "I had a headache. I went to the infirmary and
Pomfrey gave me a potion. Then nothing, I think I fell asleep," she looked up at him. "I
opened my eyes again, I don't know how long after that, I heard voices, I was cold…"

Draco clenched his fists as his stomach twisted in anger at Hermione's tale and his feet
unconsciously moved closer to her.

"They stunned me. They didn't expect me to wake up. And then the last thing I remember is
you being there. I was in your arms and-" her words froze as images of the previous days
surfaced in her memory.

Draco couldn't maintain eye contact in that moment, mortified by the guilt he held and the
anger that grew inside him at the tale of what they had done to her.
"There are things you need to know," he said, trying to control his tone of voice. "What they
did to you…"

"They wanted to take my glands," Hermione concluded, with the satisfied expression her face
took on when she knew the right answer to a question.

Draco squinted, surprised. "What else do you know?"

Hermione shrugged, leaning back against the window. "Just this, I had begun to suspect there
was something odd about Dr. Niewald's attitudes when he started getting pushy, with absurd
requests…" she sighed, crouching against the wall. "But I didn't think it would come to this".

Draco took a deep breath, gathering his strength and preparing to tell her the truth. She
deserved it. She had suffered enough. "Magnus didn't act alone," he began. "He worked for
someone, someone who was interested in what you have."

Hermione held his gaze, nodding at his words. Despite the cruelty of the experience she'd
been through, after facing a year on the run, obliviating her parents and losing many of her
friends in a war, this wasn't going to break her.

"That person is Lucius," Draco finally said. "My father".

Hermione initially opened her mouth wide in surprise, then closed it. She said nothing,
shifting her gaze to the floor.

Draco remained silent for a few seconds, watching her frown as her brain processed that
information. After that he decided to continue with the story, giving her the full picture of
what had happened behind her back.

However, as soon as he opened his mouth to speak, Hermione beat him to it. "You found out
about his plan and came to rescue me?" She asked.

Draco nodded.

"Is that why you saved me?"

He was bewildered for a few moments, not knowing how to answer that unexpected question.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "You saved me because you felt guilty?"

She didn't give him time to process, let alone reply, pouring out a rush of doubts and
questions that invaded her mind. "Why was your father interested in my glands? What does
he care about me?" She raised an eyebrow, inhaling deeply. "What made you change your
mind about coming to rescue me?"

"Change my mind?" He finally replied, trying to follow the thread of her words.

"Was it just the hormones?" asked Hermione again, slowing the flow of her thoughts. She
feared the answer to that question, but at the same time she needed it. She was tired of getting
mixed messages from Draco's attitudes and having to rack her brains on her own every time
to try and figure out what was due to him and what was due to a biological effect.

The fact that he had saved her was a point of no return for her. She felt connected to him in a
way she couldn't even explain to herself.

Draco snapped forward, opening his mouth wide and closing it a moment later. "Do you think
this-" he waved his hands in the now small space them. "Is just an hormonal thing? Do you
think we would have come to this if-"

"I don't know," Hermione replied softly.

"It's not," affirmed Draco stiffly. "To me it isn't. Maybe it never was."

Hermione couldn't maintain eye contact, overwhelmed by the intensity of his gaze and the
power of his words. She felt the now-familiar feeling of warmth making its way through her,
aware of the embarrassing shade of red her cheeks had probably turned.

She took a deep breath, putting aside her embarrassment and arousal. There were a lot of
things that were still unclear and she needed to prioritize the more important questions.

Draco seemed to be aware of the plans of those who wanted to hurt her. She needed more
details so that she could plan her next move.

What did Lucius want? Where were now Magnus and the other men who had taken her?

"I have questions," she finally concluded, finally lifting her gaze from the floor and reading
in Draco's eyes, perhaps not for the first time, the expression of someone who would do
anything for her. It was a strange feeling.

A strange awareness, indeed.

Maybe it never was.

She deposited those words in a small corner of her mind, ready to mull them over as soon as
she could.

Now she had to force herself to reconnect with reality. She

gave Draco time to explain, to tell everything.

She discovered that Lucius had been in contact with Dr. Niewald for months and that their
plan was to transfer her glands to Astoria. She didn't know whether to feel more angry or
disgusted.

Now she had to think: the next move would talking to Mcgonagall.
They would pay for what they had tried to do.

However, before putting her thoughts in order and meticulously organizing her next moves,
she took a deep breath. She still had one last doubt.
"So, there's nothing going on between you and Astoria?" she asked, working up her courage.

The stunned look on the young man's face gave her the answer she so desperately needed.
Despite that she waited, still wanting to get confirmation from his words.

Draco inhaled, his chest expanding. He looked down at her, making her feel small in the
corner of the wall she was huddled in.

"The only person I care about is you."

Hermione's heart began to beat rapidly. She clenched her legs together, holding back the
arousal that was growing in her at the mere sound of his voice.

Draco, on the other hand, had decided to stop hiding. Hermione didn't hate him, didn't think
he was guilty, wasn't angry at him.

He didn't wish for anything else. If there was even the slightest chance that she might be
interested in him in some way, he wasn't going to let it pass him by.

He lowered his gaze to the sheet of paper between his fingers.

"What is it?" asked Hermione.

He sighed, handing it to her. "From my father. He found out where we are and… I wanted to
talk to you about it, we can't stay here anymore. I was thinking of somewhere else we could
hide, but in any of the Malfoy residences Lucius would find us, I think the wards are the
problem."

"I know where we can go," Hermione replied.

Draco's heart stopped for a moment at the word we.

She had used the plural, she wanted him to go with her. "Just for tonight of course, after that
we'll go to Mcgonagall and talk to her-"

Draco continued to nod, not believing his own ears.

She had used the plural verb again.

His heart threatened to stop.

He walked over to her, holding her in his arms and depositing a kiss on her forehead, not
giving her a chance to finish her speech.

They apparated in a small, thankfully isolated alley.

Draco recognized the outline of Muggle London, spotting a few familiar monuments on the
horizon.
He followed Hermione out of the alley and down a quiet street with little traffic, walking with
one hand enveloped on her side.

They reached a small building and, through a strange tunnel that Draco couldn't believe
worked without magic, they 'teleported' to the top floor.

'Elevator,' Hermione had said.

He held his breath as, with his wand, Hermione whispered a special spell to open the door.

Of course, Draco thought to himself, she had invented a protection spell of her own for her
home.

This was her home.

He was at Hermione Granger's house.

He wondered, as he followed her over the threshold of the door, why she lived alone.

Where were her parents? Had they died during the war?

No, he would have known if they had.

The Death Eaters went looking for them.

He had secretly breathed a sigh of relief when he got the news that they had found the
Granger's cottage empty.
He knew that someone like Hermione would never leave her parents at the mercy of the
Death Eaters. She'd had a plan, she'd definitely gotten them to safety, and she'd…

"Would you like some tea?" Hermione's voice brought him back to reality.

He nodded, scanning his surroundings. It was a small apartment, a kitchen and a living room.
But he was eager to see her bedroom. Would they sleep together? Would she allow him to lie
down by her side?

"We need to talk," Hermione said, handing him a steaming mug and inviting him to sit across
from her at the small kitchen table. He obeyed her instructions, waiting silently with his heart
in his throat.

Hermione's mind, along with the rest of her body, had sparked the moment Draco had said he
cared about her.

Before she could focus on anything else she wanted to address this issue, otherwise she
would never be able to give her thoughts peace of mind.

She had never allowed herself to believe that Draco might actually be interested in her. The
words, the promises he made during sex…she knew they were worthless, that they weren't
true.
But now, when he'd said he cared about her, he'd seemed lucid, serious. It was different, it
was…
She stopped, gripping the cup firmly in her hands.
Stay calm, Hermione she said to herself.

"What you said earlier…" her hands shook, so she set the cup down on the table. "When you
said you cared about me-"

"It's the truth," Draco replied, without giving her time to finish, staring into her eyes.

"Since when?" she asked, encouraged and at the same time intimidated by the intensity of his
gaze.

Draco seemed to ponder it for a few moments. Yeah, since when?

Maybe since the first moment he'd seen her, maybe since her face had begun to haunt his
fantasies during third year. Maybe since sixth year, when he had first dared to imagine what it
would be like to be her boyfriend, or maybe since that famous and indelible day at Malfoy
Manor.

There was only one right answer to give.

"Before all of this" he merely said.

There was no need to specify, they both knew what he was referring to.

"I don't understand," Hermione sighed.

"What?"

"Your mixed messages, for all these months and-"

"My what?"

"It seemed like sleeping with me had been the worst thing that could have happened to you.
You were avoiding me. Then you were looking for me again-"

Draco didn't know whether to believe his own ears. "Is that what you thought?"

Hermione fell silent, surprised by his tone of voice. Draco took advantage of it. "In case it
wasn't clear, Hermione, making love to you that September 19th was the best thing that ever
happened to me."

Hermione blushed. Since when was Draco Malfoy so direct?

The young man continued. "But I'm… Me," he sighed. "The failed Death Eater. The boy who
tormented and despised you for years. There's not a single reason why you might want to be
with me."
"That's for me to decide," Hermione replied decisively.

She couldn't continue this conversation now. The way Draco had confessed his feelings had
awakened an overwhelming desire in her.

Tomorrow.
Tomorrow they would talk. Tomorrow she would reflect.
They were going to fix everything.

Tomorrow.

Now she was tired of talking.

She stood up from the table, feeling Draco's eyes on her body as she crossed the room,
reaching the first door in the hallway before them.

"I'm going to take a shower," she said, grabbing the handle and turning to face him.

Draco clenched his jaw. Why was she telling him this?

Maybe she wanted him to leave, or maybe….

"Are you coming with me?"

Her body was there, enveloped in steam. The drops of water ran down her skin, following the
curve of her hips.

He wished to capture them one by one with his tongue. He couldn't believe it was all real.

His arms tightened around her.

Her soft breast pressed against his chest as his powerful hands slid down her slender arms,
heading down, caressing her hips and gripping her bottom firmly.

A cry of pleasure left his mouth at that simple contact, faster than his brain could control it.

Hermione's hands were firm against his chest.

He opened his eyes, meeting hers.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

At that moment he realized the strength with which his hand was encircling her bottom.
Maybe he was hurting her, he hadn't controlled himself and….

Hermione's hands reached for Draco's, lifting them from her hips. Their eyes met and, before
he could protest or ask any questions, she turned with her back to him.
She leaned toward the shower wall, staring at him over her shoulder.
Draco's mind went into complete blackout.

She didn't really want-

She couldn't want this from him.

This position.

It would awaken his wildest, most animalistic instincts.

His penis throbbed, eager to enter her and take her hard, again and again.

His hands found their way back on the soft flesh of her hips, contracting around them. His
fingers sank into that smooth skin.

"Hermione," he gasped thought gritted teeth. "I don't think that's a good idea" sweat ran down
his skin, mixing with the hot water from the shower.

The steam, the scent of her and her arousal, her wet hair falling so invitingly down the curve
of her back, longing to be grabbed by his fist…. It was too much.

"I want you, Draco," Hermione replied, turning her head to observe him. She pushed her
bottom against his erect penis "like this."

Those words were enough to set him off. One of his hands wrapped around her hair.
Hermione's neck bent back, enough for him to sink his lips against it.

"I won't be able to control myself," he growled against her ear.

His other hand wrapped around her belly as his penis entered her.
His first thrust made them both gasp in surprise.

This angle was…different. Hermione felt him, his length filling her completely.

Her walls were stretched tight around his penis.

She still hadn't gotten used to his size, maybe she never would. She didn't want to, she
wanted it to be like this every time.

Draco's vision fogged up.

This was animalistic, brutal. Pure friction, flesh against flesh.

The fact that she had given herself to him like this... it meant she trusted him.

For anything in the world he would ever betray that trust.

He had never felt this way before.

He opened his eyes, watching Hermione's bottom and the way his penis disappeared inside
her. He pushed as hard as he could.
He was addicted to that image, lost in contemplation of the way their bodies joined each
other.

His belly kept colliding violently against the softness of her flesh. The force of that collision
grew thrust after thrust.

Each time he moved out of her, away from that warm, cozy haven, he re-entered it with even
more force.

Hermione, on the other hand, couldn't keep her eyes open. Her knees were weak and her legs
seemed on the verge of giving out at any moment from the intensity of that sensation, on the
borderline between pleasure and pain. The noises leaving Draco's mouth made her arousal
grow and, thrust after thrust, she felt herself getting closer and closer to the point of
screaming.

Her chest was adhered against the slippery wall, but even so, she was in no danger of falling.
Draco's thrusts were so strong and fast that they immobilized her, preventing gravity from
taking over. She lost herself in the pleasure, enjoying the feeling of being so sweetly used.

Despite the heat of the shower, she could feel Draco's warm, heavy breath against her neck.
And she felt the weight of his muscular body towering over her, the stiffness of his muscles
against her back.

"I can't stop," he wheezed again against her ear.

He exited her almost entirely and when with a firm thrust he sank back inside, Hermione's
mouth gaped open.

One of Draco's hands gripped her chin. His fingers slid over her lips and along her lower
arch.
"Tell me to slow down," he growled in a deep voice against her ear, burying his penis in her
and waiting a few seconds before slipping away.

Hermione sighed at the feeling of emptiness.

"Again," she gasped with Draco's fingers between her teeth.

His other hand, encircling her belly, slid down.

His fingers landed firmly on her clit, beginning to torment it with precise, gentle movements
that countered the increasing force of his thrusts inside her.

Fireworks formed behind Hermione's half-closed eyelids as her walls began to tighten and
contract around him.

Draco's thrusts grew, countering the strength of Hermione's belly muscles as they contracted
to hold him inside her. It took three more thrusts for the orgasm to reach him as well.

Hermione was overwhelmed by the heat of his seed releasing inside her. Her knees trembled
and Draco held her to him more tightly.
 The young man's hand encircling her chin loosened his grip as his seed continued to pour into
her, sliding slowly into her hair. His tongue licked the skin of her neck, depositing kisses all
the way from her collarbone to her face.

His lips brushed against her earlobe and Hermione thought she had imagined the words
Draco whispered in her ear.

"I love you, Hermione."

Chapter End Notes

There are no words to explain how much I loved the comments on the latest chapters,
really.
Thank you 💓
 Chapter 23
Chapter Notes

Only three more chapter to go, thank you to everyone who read and commented this,
making me want to continue with the translation!
Hope you'll enjoy ❤

Hermione woke up nestled against Draco's chest. From the rays of sunlight coming through
the window, she deduced that it was well into the day. Despite the more than pleasant feeling
of being wrapped in the Slytherin's arms, Hermione Granger was never the sort of person
who liked to sleep in.

Given the situation they were in now, lazing around was not a luxury they could afford.

Unable to find the courage to part from his firm embrace, however, she closed her eyes,
mentally organizing the stressful day ahead of them.
They would have to apparate in Hogsmeade, possibly in the evening, in order to go
unnoticed. After that they would walk to Hogwarts and talk to Mcgonagall.

The night before Draco had said that Dr. Niewald and his accomplices had been arrested, but
the instigator behind them all had gone unpunished.

She looked at the sleeping face that lay beside her.

How does one feel going against his own father?

She would have to talk to him about that before talking to the headmistress.

About that and about what was going to happen the night he had saved her.

She had invited him to bite her, she wanted him to do it.
Yet he hadn't.
It shouldn't have been easy for him to resist, yet he did.

Why didn't he want to bond with her?

***

Draco opened his eyes, snapping to his feet as soon as he realized Hermione wasn't lying in
the bed next to him.
A strong smell of coffee flooded his nostrils and, not bothering to get dressed, he followed
the source of that aroma.

The coffee pot nearly fell out of Hermione's hands as her eyes caught the image of the young
man in boxers in front of her.

He looked even better in the sunlight.

Draco rejoiced at the blush that suddenly appeared on the girl's cheeks, watching her eyes
quickly run down his body and then focus elsewhere just as quickly.

With trembling hands, Hermione filled two cups of steaming coffee, handing one to him.
They sat at opposite ends of the small kitchen table, silently sipping the drink.

This was a good moment to talk, she thought, unable to find the words for what she wanted to
say. The whole 'biting' thing was making her nervous.

She felt aroused just thinking about it, and the fact that Draco was sitting before her wearing
only a tight pair of boxers certainly didn't help.

"The night you saved me-" she began tentatively.

Draco stood up. "I didn't save you Hermione, don't treat me like a hero."

The girl motioned for him not to interrupt her and, though with a displeased look on his face,
Draco sat back down, sparing Hermione the sight of his morning erection.

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to remove that image and focus on what she needed to
say. "That night," she began again, trying to keep a steady voice that didn't betray the
accelerated beating of her heart, "when you came back, after we-" she lowered her gaze,
"why didn't you-" she hesitated for a moment, after which she gathered her courage, deciding
to just ask.

Draco clenched his fists under the table. Hermione's attitude was starting to make him
nervous, and he feared what she was about to ask.

"Why didn't you bite me?" She finally asked.

His mouth opened wide and his eyes squinted.

Hermione immediately regretted that question. Maybe she shouldn't have asked.

No, it hadn't been appropriate at all.

"Sorry, that was a stupid question." She stood up abruptly, grabbing her cup and heading for
the sink, starting to wash the previous night's dishes the muggle way so that she could keep
herself busy and not have to look him in the eye. "I mean, biologically speaking…" she
gasped, cursing the spray of boiling water on her hand. "It must have been hard for you, I
read things…"
Draco stood up from the table, moving closer to her so he could watch her face as she
continued to clumsily and absent-mindedly wash the cutlery in the sink.

"Very hard," he asserted in a deep voice.

Hermione began to sweat, she could feel his eyes on her and her skin ignited. She began to
rub the now more than clean cup vigorously.

"Why do you ask?" said Draco.

Hermione ignored him, starting to rinse the cup.

"Hermione," Draco's hand rested on hers, forcing her to stop. "What's going on? Do you want
to know why I didn't bite you?"

The Gryffindor nodded, meeting his eyes.

"I couldn't do that to you," he stated. He grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to turn
around and towering over her so that she couldn't look away. "I didn't want you to be bound
to me forever, you don't deserve this."

In less than a second the expression on the girl's face went from confusion, to amazement, to
anger, which definitely solidified on her features. "I believe is up to me to decide what I do or
don't deserve"

Though interdicted, Draco did not flinch. "You can't possibly mean that-"

Hermione sighed. "So you wanted to?"

"Did I want to?" Draco squinted, staring at her dumbfounded. "If I wanted to?" he asked
again, the disbelief evident in his tone of voice. "Of course I wanted to, from the first moment
I brushed against your skin and my lips met yours and-" he paused, running a hand through
his hair.

Hermione blushed, confused. Since when did Draco talk like this? The things he was
saying…they made it impossible for her to concentrate.

And he was too close to her. And he was still wearing only a pair of boxers.

"Then why you-"

"This wasn't what you wanted. I wasn't going to do this to you," he stared at her, breathing
heavily.

His morning erection had grown at the sight of the blush on Hermione's cheeks.

Now that he'd discovered the effect certain words had on her, he would use them more often.
But not now.

Now was not the time, so he struggled to reconnect his brain to the conversation currently
taking place.

"Listen to me, Hermione," he said. "You can't really want this, and I can't do this to you. I
can't" he let go of her shoulders, but didn't flinch.

"Stop it," Hermione yelled, almost exasperated, pacing back and forth in the small kitchen.
"Stop treating me like I'm some helpless damsel incapable of thinking for herself," she
stopped before him, staring at him with a serious expression. "I'm not, Draco. Hormones have
more influence on you than they do on me…"

"Are you kidding?!" yelled Draco, unable to control his tone of voice. "As hard as it is, I at
least manage to restrain myself," he ranted, leaning forward slightly so that he was face to
face with her.

She crossed her arms over her chest, frowning, her face as red from nervousness as from
embarrassment at the confession she was about to make. "I was perfectly aware of what I was
doing last night," she cried. "As I was days ago, when I offered you my neck…" she turned
away, her back to him, looking toward the window, unable to sustain his gaze.

She ran a hand through her hair, lowering her voice. "I regretted it as soon as we were done. I
thought that… That you didn't want it, that I was deceiving you. Because I am me. And my
blood - "

Draco's arms tightened around her, and Hermione felt his warm, hard chest against her back.

He bent down, breathing against her neck. He sank his nostrils into the shaggy mass of her
curly hair, inhaling at the top of his lungs.

"I want it, Hermione," he inhaled again. "More than anything." He tightened his arms around
her. "I want it so bad that resisting is a torture" he sighed against her ear. His tongue licked
the skin of her neck, below her earlobe.

Hermione gasped as a shiver ran down her spine. "You can do it" she whispered.

Draco groaned as his lips started torturing Hermione's earlobe. "No," he concluded,
continuing to torment her neck with his tongue.

Hermione parted from him. "What do you mean? You just said that-"

"You need to think this through, Hermione. It's a permanent thing and I don't want you
making decisions you might regret."

"Me? You think I haven't thought about it already?" she pointed a finger at his bare chest.
"Maybe it's you who doesn't want to, and you keep telling yourself that-"
Draco grabbed her by the wrist. His grip was firm, but not painful. "I just want you to be
convinced."

"I am," she insisted.

Her pupils dilated, crossing his eyes. The blush on her cheeks extended to her collarbones.

"If you still want it at the end of the year, then I'll do it" he concluded, letting go of her arm.

"But-"

"Please," he implored her.

Hermione caught the sincerity of his words, the concern and desperation of his voice.

She decided, therefore, at least for the moment, to let go.

Just for the moment.

Evening came quickly, along with the long-awaited and dreaded moment when they would
finally address the situation and talk to McGonagall.
The closer the moment of confrontation came, the more nervous Draco felt. Not for what
would happen to Lucius, for whom he no longer had any affection.

He feared for himself.

He was worried they would separate him from Hermione.

He was worried for his mother. He had to make sure she wasn't accused of being an
accomplice to his father's crazy plans. She was not to blame: she was just a product of the
environment in which she had grown up and the beliefs that had been instilled in her from the
cradle. Stronger, perhaps, than those with which he himself had been indoctrinated.

Before heading to Hogwarts they quickly passed by Gringotts: Draco wanted to make sure
his father hadn't officially disinherited him.

He was surprised to find out that it hadn't happened yet. He picked up a fair amount of
galleons, under the curious and furtive glances of the goblins, who kept scrutinazimg
Hermione ruefully.

He almost laughed when he realized why the goblins seemed so suspicious of her: less than a
year ago she had sneaked in here in Bellatrix Lestrange's body, breached one of their vaults
and escaped on the back of a dragon.

He turned to look at her as the little goblin searched through the large set of keys, catching
sight of a barely noticeable smirk at the apex of her rosy lips. She was probably thinking the
same thing he was.

God, he loved her.

With the short stop at Gringotts over, Hermione grabbed his hand and, looking into each
other's eyes, the two apparated in the small village of Hogsmeade.

The village was dark and silent. Not many of its inhabitants had returned there after the
Dementors' stay and the destruction of the past year.

They walked hand in hand to the school gate as the cold wind swayed their cloaks. The closer
they got to the entrance, the weaker Hermione's knees became.

She didn't know where all this agitation came from. She had faced worse, she kept telling
herself. She knew it, and the little stop at Gringotts had done nothing but remind her of it.
Yet she had a bad feeling about this.

Confronting McGonagall meant admitting out loud everything that had happened. Not only
the fact that someone had tried to hurt her, but also that she was an omega and Draco was her
alpha. She had chosen him before she could even realize it. She wouldn't be able to imagine
herself with anyone else from now on.

However, it was one thing to make love in the dark, enclosed within the walls of a safe house,
and quite another to come out in front of the entire school.
She hadn't even talked to her friends yet.

One problem at a time, she told herself.

She could do it. She was Hermione Granger, she could deal with everyt-

She suddenly felt herself being grabbed by something she couldn't see.
Draco's hand slipped from hers.

She recognized familiar voices.

It was chaos all around, and more people that she could imagine were suddenly in front of
her.

Mcgonagall, Harry, Ron, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott….

HARRY.
RON.

What were they doing here?

It took a few more seconds for her brain to comprehend what was going on.

"Get away from her," Ron yelled at Malfoy.

Draco stared murderously at the redhead. Nott held him by the arm, while Pansy begged him
to stay calm.
"Mr. Weasley," Mcgonagall interjected, placing herself between him and Drack. "If you
please, I'm the headmistress here"

Ron blushed, shrugging his shoulders in embarrassment at being called out like a first year
boy.

The woman ignored him, turning to Draco and Hermione who, without realizing it, had found
herself in Harry's arms.

"Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy, come with me".

The redhead opened his mouth to protest but the woman interrupted him. "After we get this
cleared up, Mr. Weasley, you and Potter will have plenty of time to talk to your friend," she
raised an eyebrow, looking first at the two Gryffindors and then at Hermione.
"I'm sure you'll have a lot to talk about."

Hermione felt mortified. She knew that sooner or later she would have to talk to her friends
about her condition, but she didn't think it would happen so soon.

She wasn't ready yet.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she barely understood what was happening.

She only realized that her feet had dragged her into the principal' study when she found
herself standing in front of the winking portrait of Albus Dumbledore.

Professor Slughorn was standing behind Mcgonagall's desk.

Draco and Hermione sat in the two chairs set up in the center of the room, much farther away
from the desk than the girl remembered from the last time she had been here.

Her mind was racing to try to understand what was going on. Why were they all here at
Hogwarts? What had they heard? Had news of her condition spread?

She wasn't ready.

She wasn't ready.
She wasn't ready.

That was all she could think about.

After years of being constantly singled out and judged for her blood, she wasn't ready to dive
headfirst into this new battle, to start it all over again.

Not yet.

"Did you abuse of your superiority and influence over her?" Mcgonagall's voice brought
Hermione back to reality.

It didn't take her long to realize what she was talking about.
"He didn't do anything to me," she cut in, trying to pick up the thread of conversation
between the headmistress and Draco.

"Were you aware of your father's plans?" the woman asked again, completely ignoring
Hermione.

"No," Draco retorted, not lowering his gaze.

Despite everything, McGonagall still didn't seem convinced by Draco's words, and Hermione
felt like screaming.

How could she doubt him?

How could she not see the vulnerability with which he had exposed himself to them? It was
in every inch of his skin.
Why did she seem to be the only one who saw it?

"Horace," Mcgonagall said, turning away.

The old man merely nodded, pulling a small bottle of clear liquid out of his pocket and
handing it to the headmistress, who was getting dangerously close to Draco.

"You can't do that," Hermione shouted, realizing that it was veritaserum. "Why don't you talk
to me too?"

"It's okay, Hermione," replied Draco, crossing her eyes before the small clear liquid was slid
down his throat. Hermione felt helpless.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks.

She knew what was happening: they didn't think she could make decisions for herself. They
didn't believe her words.

Of they could think she was being manipulated?

They thought she had lost her mind, that she was completely overwhelmed by him, by her
hormones. Subjugated by her own biology.

Would eveyrone doubts of her from now on?

The blood boiled in her veins and Mcgonagall noticed it. "Miss Granger, I need to ask you
out."

"What?" squinted Hermione.

"It will be quicker and easier if you are not present while we question Mr. Malfoy."

"But-"

"Hermione," Draco's velvety voice reassured her. "It's okay."

With nerves on edge, Hermione slowly rose from her chair.

"I hope you'll interrogate me too," she said, giving Mcgonagall one last furious look and
heading for the exit laden with anger and nervousness.

With his gaze pointed straight ahead and his fingers firmly clasped against the arm of the
chair, Draco counted the seconds that passed in deafening silence.

He felt the effect of the veritaserum slowly work its way through him, making his head feel
lighter. His thoughts were racing, escaping his control.

He tried to concentrate, clinging, for the umpteenth time in his life, to the occlumency that
Professor Snape had taught him. At that moment he directed his gaze to the portrait of the
former professor, who was staring at him from the opposite end of the room.

"Malfoy," the woman called back to him.

"Tell us exactly what happened from the evening of December 24th to now."

The wait seemed interminable to Hermione. The palms of her hands were sweating.

She spent the first half hour walking back and forth in front of the door. After that, tired and
nervous, she began walking down the hallway.

"Granger."

She turned around, finding herself in front of Pansy Parkinson.

The girl approached her slowly, looking around.

Hermione noticed that she was alone.

"Where are Har-"

"They're in Hogsmeade. McGonagall has ordered them back. They're spending the night
there," the girl paused for a moment. "They want to talk to you in the morning."

Hermione didn't answer, letting her back go against the wall.

Pansy, however, made no mention of leaving.

"He's being questioned," Hermione said, clarifying the Slytherin's doubts.

Pansy sighed. "Thank you," she twisted the sleeves of her sweater between her fingers,
visibly uncomfortable.

"Granger," she sighed. "I know there's never been good blood between us, but what they did
to you…. I'm sorry for it."
Hermione lifted her gaze, incredulous and surprised by her words. Was this the same Pansy
Parkinson who had insulted her for years?

The Slytherin continued. "I just want to tell you that Draco is different from his father,
completely. And he would never do that to anyone, especially you."

"I never doubted of him. I trust he won't hurt me in anyawy" Hermione replied firmly,
noticing how, at those words, the tension in Pansy's shoulders seemed to lighten.

"Are we talking about the same person who cried for a week after killing a bird?" The two
girls jerked at the voice of Theodore Nott, who suddenly appeared from a corner of the
hallway. "Sorry girls," he said, wrapping an arm around Pansy's shoulder. "I hope I didn't
interrupt any girl talks"

Pansy nudged him with her elbow, but Hermione was secretly grateful for that interruption
and the boy's sarcasm, which slightly relieved the tension in her stomach.

"Are they questioning him?" Theo asked Hermione.

The Gryffindor crossed her arms over her chest, nodding. "They gave him veritaserum."

Pansy opened her mouth wide in surprise, but Theo smiled.

"Relax, Pan," he said, allowing a glimpse of a small clear bottle sticking out of his pocket. "I
took care of everything."

He then winked at Hermione.

The Gryffindor would have had a sea of questions for him, but the boy didn't give her a
chance to speak. "I'm sorry to leave you, Granger, but we can't stay here," he turned a glance
to Pansy. "If memory serves, I recall that we were specifically ordered to go to bed and not
speak to either of you until tomorrow morning."

Casting a furtive glance toward the corridor from which he had come, he dragged Pansy with
him, and Hermione found herself alone again, with only the weight of her thoughts to keep
her company.

"One last question, Malfoy," the woman said.

Draco closed his eyes. He could do this.

It hadn't been that difficult, actually. He hadn't lied, but to his surprise he had managed to
omit certain information.

McGonagall seemed convinced, or so he thought.

"Miss Granger was not bitten," she affirmed.

He nodded, confirming her words and waiting for her question.

"Why?"

He took a deep breath. "I didn't want her bound to me forever."

His answer destabilized the headmistress. He noticed it by the way she squinted her eyelids,
slowly tilting her head to the right, where Albus Dumbledore's portrait continued to nod with
his usual vague smile.

"All right," she sighed finally. "You and Miss Granger will remain at Hogwarts, where you
will be safe. A team of Aurors will travel to the Manor to interrogate Lucius, but if they don't
find any clear evidence against him you will have to testify at his trial."

Draco felt a knot in his throat.

"You can go now," she added, starting to turn over some papers on her desk. "You and Miss
Granger will have your dormitory back. I will instruct the house elves to move your things
there."

Without saying a word, Draco shakily and sweatingly headed for the exit.

He knew there was no turning back from what he had done.

He had openly and publicly sided against his father. The consequences of his words would
soon catch up with him.

But all those fears and worries became vain when, as soon as the door closed behind him,
Hermione threw herself into his arms.

They reentered their old common room. Draco looked around, remembering the first time he
had set foot in there months ago.

It seemed like way more time had passed since then.

They sat on the couch, silently sipping a cup of hot chocolate in front of the crackling
fireplace.

Hermione felt nervous.

It had been a long day, and she would have many, too many, things to explain and sort out
with her friends over the next few days.

Making her nerves even more tense was the memory the last time she and Draco had been
together in this room.

She thought back to that episode, smiling mischievously against her mug.

"What's so funny?" asked Draco, setting his hot chocolate down on the small coffee table.

"Nothing," whispered Hermione, blushing.

The blond decided not to insist, changing the subject instead.

"You never changed the password," he said, pointing to the door.

"Never needed to," she murmured, taking a sip of the drink. "Only you knew it."

Draco felt that familiar sense of possessiveness grow within him. Being this close to her,
fighting against the instinct to grab her and hold her close, was difficult.

It wouldn't be easy to resist the temptation to make her his every hour of every day now that
they would be sharing the same dormitory again, but he would do his best.

He could already feel his desire growing, lost in contemplation of the way she licked her
chocolate-stained lips after each sip.

Hermione couldn't help but notice the intensity of his gaze on her lips, shuddering at the sight
of his clenched fists and dilated pupils.

Arousal suddenly seized her as well.

She decided in that moment, for the first time, to take the first step.

She put away her cup and approached him on the sofa.

Hesitantly, she tried to assume a fairly comfortable position, stroking his chest with her hand
and watching Draco's eyes follow the trajectory of her small fingers.

When he finally lifted his gaze from her slowly descending hand, their eyes met. Their lips
ventured to each other.

They savored each other's mouths for several seconds as their hands explored each other's
bodies and clutched at the flaps of fabric that separated them.

Panting with desire, Draco slid his hand down, feeling the warmth and wetness of her arousal
from above the fabric of her jeans.

Hermione shrugged, wrapping her small fingers around his wrist.

"Not yet," she said, gently pulling Draco's hand away from the zipper of her pants.

Slowly, she repeated his gesture, letting her fingers slide over the crotch of his pants and
savoring the size of his erection

Draco remained still, going along with her unspoken request not to touch her yet, but
wondering how long he would be able to resist.

He bit his lip and sank his nails against the couch as Hermione began to slowly unbutton his
shirt, depositing a series of kisses along his chest.
He let his head fall back, closing his eyes as Hermione's mouth slid further and further down,
caressing the diaphanous skin of his abdomen with her lips.

He sank a hand into her soft curls and a shiver invaded his body the instant he realized what
her intentions were.

"Hermione," he gasped, his breath heavy and his heart racing. "You don't have to do this."

"I know," she replied, unzipping his pants. "I want to."

Sparks raced along Draco's nerves. He clenched his lower lip between his teeth as Hermione's
hands freed his erection from his boxers.

Uncertain and aroused, she grabbed his penis.

She had never done this before…

Without thinking too much about it, she gently placed her lips on it, keeping her eyes on his
face to watch his every reaction.

Encouraged by the way Draco closed his eyes and opened his mouth wide at the slight
contact, Hermione slid his member deeper into her mouth.

Draco gasped, his fingers clenching tightly around her curls. He strained to keep his eyes
open so he could maintain eye contact with her dark irises.

God, the things that look did to him. He wasn't going to last long, he was sure of it.

"Oh," he suddenly gasped.

Satisfied by that reaction, Hermione repeated the gesture, letting her tongue slide over the tip
of his penis.

Draco gasped again. "Oh my God, Hermione."

The blush reappeared her cheeks, extending to her neck and collarbones.

Draco loosened his grip on her hair, remembering the thought he'd formulated only that
morning: words had an effect on her, aroused her.

Straining to keep his eyes open despite the divine movements of her tongue on him, he slid
the hand that was wrapped in her hair downward, gently caressing her cheek.

"The things you do to me, Hermione," he began, watching her reaction.

Her skin blushed even more.

Good.

"I won't last long if you keep looking at me like that," he gasped, holding his breath as she
repeated that motion with her tongue.
His words were having an effect. He could see it in the goosebumps that appeared on her
arms and in the way she was clutching her legs, trying to relieve the tension down there-

"Fuck," he cursed, finally pulling Hermione's mouth away from his member and drawing her
onto himself.

With one decisive move he reversed their positions, settling on top of her on the small couch
and venturing onto her neck, while with is hands he ripped away the flaps of fabric that still
separated him from that divine skin.

"The effect you have on me…" he whispered into her neck as he helped her out of her
sweater.

He watched her chest as it rose and fell with the rhythm of her accelerated breaths.

He slid his fingers along her collarbones, enjoying the goose bumps on them.

"You have no idea, Hermione " he teased her, nibbling on her ear "of all the things I want to
do to you, the things I've imagined."

The girl gasped, aroused more than ever by t his words.

God, his voice.

And the things he was saying….

"And now I'm going to prove it to you, my little omega."

 Chapter 24
Chapter Notes

I skipped yesterday's update, sorry!

Two chapters to go, hope you'll enjoy! ❤

Hermione's heart was beating faster and faster.

Her sweaty hand gripped Draco's tightly as, step by step, they descended towards the Great
Hall.

She had gotten her thoughts in order, she knew what to say.
She kept repeating those words in her head, as nervous as she had been a few times in her
life.

She had faced far more difficult things in the past, but she had never gone against her friends.
She was used to having them by her side.
They had been a constant presence in her life for the past seven years.

Conflicting emotions plagued her: the fear that they wouldn't understand and the guilt of
keeping it from them were battling inside her stomach.

She spotted Harry and Ron outside the Great Hall.

They were waiting for her.

She thought that maybe it would be better not to show up hand in hand with Draco.

He seemed to read her mind, suddenly stopping and dragging her behind one of the armors
that lined the hallway were they couldn't be seen.

Hermione stared at him questioningly. "Go on," he told her. "Is better if they see you first.
Alone"

At those words a weight she hadn't realized she was carrying rose from her stomach. "Thank
you" she said, squeezing Draco's hand one last time before letting go of it and walking
towards her two friends.

He held her by the arm, forcing her to turn around again, staring at her with an intensity that
made her breathless.

"I'm not doing this for them. I'm doing it for you."
Then he let go of her forearm and, without adding anything else, he watched as she walked
towards the two.

Hermione had only taken a few steps when they both lifted their gaze in her direction.

The expression on Harry's face gave her some hope that perhaps it wouldn't be so bad.
Ron, however, looked more furious than ever. His face had taken on the same shade of red as
his hair.

As soon as he saw her he immediately turned his back on her and started walking towards the
courtyard.

So, they were going to talk outside.

This was not a good sign at all, Hermione thought to herself as she walked silently side by
side with Harry, who was also particularly silent.

Unlike the redhead, however, he appeared calm.

She was grateful for that.

Ron walked briskly ahead of them for several minutes.

They walked quite a distance from the school entrance.

Who could have been eavesdropping on their conversation?

Was he going to yell so much?

She tried to slow the pace of her breathing.

Sure, she had some explaining to do, but Ron was in no position to be that angry. Things
between them had been over long before any of this happened.

The redhead suddenly stopped and she and Harry almost clashed into him.

They spent a few seconds in silence.

Ron kept his back to her.

Hermione looked for Harry's eyes, which were staring at her full of apprehension.

When she couldn't take anymore of the silence, she opened her mouth to speak.
The speech she had carefully prepared slipped from her memory.

"I should have told you about that," she said, darting her gaze between Harry's face and the
back of Ron's head, who had evidently decided not to look at her face ever again. "The thing
is, it was all new to me. And scary. And embarrassing…" she lowered her gaze.
"We could have helped you," Ron murmured, so faintly she could barely hear him.

"I know," Hermione gasped. "But I myself initially had no idea what was happening to my
body. I couldn't imagine it being this, and after I found out…It's not an easy thing to explain,
I wish I could have told you about it as soon as I understood." Her throat burned more and
more from the effort of not bursting into tears "but then things got complicated".

Ron slowly turned.

Hermione held her breath.

His eyes were furious, his face red with anger. "Complicated, Hermione? Is the fact that
Malfoy almost killed you just a complication?"

Hermione opened her mouth wide. "Draco had nothing to do with it. He saved me-"

"Spare me, please," the redhead yelled. He took a step forward. "You're not yourself
Hermione, he controls you."

Anger boiled in her chest. She was tired of being told this. She was tired of people continuing
to consider her unable to think for herself because of her condition.

"That's it," she exploded, tears streaming down her face. "That's why I didn't want to tell you
about it. That's why I'm afraid the world knows," her eyes sought Harry's again. "If even you
can't take me seriously, of would everyone else? No one controls me" she stated exasperated.
"I'm always me. I'm always Hermione."

"The Hermione I knew would never have trusted Draco Malfoy," the furious, contrite
expression that furrowed Ron's features was one she had seen only once before: during the
war, when he had abandoned her and Harry in the Dean's forest.

She knew in that moment that she would once again be a victim of the poison that was going
to leave his mouth.

Harry seemed to recognize that look on Ron's face too.

He snapped forward, placing himself between the redhead and Hermione.

"Ron," he said, in a firm, controlled voice. The boy paid him no mind, continuing to stare at
Hermione from over his friend's shoulder.

"He's just using you," he continued.

"Ron" Harry called back without any use.

"And you're fine with that" he ranted. "The Hermione I know would never have become the
whore of a former deatheather."

"NOW THAT'S ENOUGH!" yelled Harry, finally forcing Ron to look at him.

"You're on his side?" The redhead asked incredulous.

"I'm not on anyone's side" Harry's voice was calm again. "I'm here to listen to what Hermione
has to say."

"I've heard enough already," Ron concluded, walking towards the school entrance without
sparing the two a glance.

Hermione broke down. Tears of anger and frustration ran down her cheeks as the fear of
losing one of her best friends slowly crept up on her.

Without saying a word, Harry hugged her.

She cried against his chest, enjoying his familiar, warm embrace. She had missed him.

"Harry…"

"I trust you, Hermione," the boy said, stroking her back.

Incredulous, Hermione loosened from his embrace and lifted her gaze.

"Really?"

After separating from Hermione, Draco joined Theo and Pansy at the Slytherin table.

The two interrupted their conversation the moment he took a seat across from them, waiting
for him to say something.

Draco sighed.

"Where's Zabini?" he asked. He didn't really care that much, but, if nothing else, it would
allow him to avoid talking about what had happened for a few more seconds.

"He's coming tonight with the Hogwarts express," Theo stated quickly, before being
interrupted by Pansy.

The girl abruptly let go of her fork, which fell back onto her plate with a deafening noise.

Draco noticed how, as time went on, Pansy seemed less and less inclined to follow the rules
of etiquette that had been instilled in them since the cradle.

"Really, Draco?" she raised an eyebrow. "Is that all you have to say?"

"What am I supposed to say?"

"I don't know," she rested her elbows on the table. "Maybe you could explain what the hell
happened since you disappeared leaving Theo and me at the Weasleys'."

Draco turned his gaze to Theo, but the boy shrugged. "Don't look for my help mate, I'm
curious too."
He sighed, resigning himself.

He told his friends about Lucius' message, about being at Hermione's house, about their
decision to report his father to the headmistress.

He glossed over some of the details of the conversation he'd had with McGonagall, not
feeling comfortable sharing certain information despite the fact that the great hall was semi-
empty.

"So," Pansy began, her eyes twinkling. "Now, you and Granger…"

"I don't know," he interrupted her. "I guess… Yes."

"Wait, wait," Theo interjected. "I'd like to elaborate on what happened in McGonagall's
study."

The muscles in Draco's neck tensed. He looked around suspiciously.

"What would you like to know?"

Theo bent the corner of his mouth slightly. "Oh, nothing"

"Come on," huffed Pansy, turning to him. "Either tell him now, or let's get on with the
conversation."

"Tell me what?" the blond asked, causing his gaze to dart between his two friends.

Theo grabbed something from his pocket, depositing it on the table.

A small, empty bottle.

"You're welcome, Malfoy."

Draco opened his mouth wide. "You? You tampered with the-" he interrupted, lowering his
voice. "I thought I was good-"

Theo laughed. "You're good, Malfoy, but you're not Severus Snape, you can't do everything
by yourself."

Draco tightened his lips, unsure of what to respond to that statement.

After a few seconds in silence, he decided to change the subject.

"What happened after-" he hesitated.

"After you abandoned us in the gingerbread den?" huffed Pansy. "Oh nothing exciting, except
that Weasley freaked out."

"Ron" specified Theodore.

"Yes, him ," the girl continued, motioning with her hand for him to shut up.
"Then what else? Mhh.
Potter tried to calm him down, but not before he threw a curse at poor Theo."

Draco opened his mouth wide, calming down when Theo told him that he hadn't been hurt.

"Wait, so you're telling me that Potter doesn't want to kill me?" he asked, hoping that at least
the boy who lived wouldn't make Hermione's life too difficult.

"It would seem so-" shrugged Theo.

"Oh please," Pansy interjected again. "She was the one who convinced him to hold back."

"Who is she?" the two boys asked simultaneously.

"What does it mean who is she?" Pansy rolled her eyes. "The Weaslette, of course."

Theodore laughed. "I always knew Potter wasn't the one wearing pants in that realtionship".

Draco remained impassive. "Alright, what else?"

Pansy looked at her nails absentmindedly. "Astoria's at St. Mungo's."

"Oh," he lowered his gaze.

That news had no effect on him, leaving him completely unimpressed.

"And Theodore has a crush on George Weasley."

It took Draco a few seconds to process the words that left Pansy's mouth, while Theo choked
on his pumpkin juice.

"What the hell?" he said.

His face turned a shade of red that would make the Wealsey's hair envious.

"I only said I liked his work, and you jump to such conclusions," he spoke quickly.

"Besides, how can you think I'm gay after last night?"

Draco remained impassive, no longer sure if his presence at the table was still welcomed.

However, the scene before him was too much fun to leave, and Hermione would be busy with
her friends for a few hours at least.

"Oh, I don't think you're gay," the girl continued casually, sipping her juice as if Theo wasn't
on the verge of a stroke.
"You're bisexual."

Theo's face turned even redder, to the point that Draco thought he was about to explode.

"I am not".
"Relax, Nott," Pansy began. "What's wrong with that? Are you afraid that daddy won't be
happy about it? Look at me, look at Draco."

She looked first toward Draco, then into Theo's eyes.

"We're all a disappointment to our parents. And you know what the best thing is?" she leaned
forward, resting both forearms on the table.
"That they're the ones who are wrong."

The expression on the boys faces was confused and surprised by the words that were leaving
the mouth of the shallow and notoriously wicked Pansy Parkinson.

"I like this world with no rules," she said, turning a winking gaze toward the boy sitting next
to her, who had meanwhile begun to sweat.

"Besides," she leaned closer to his ear, "we could always have a threesome."

"You know what" Draco snapped on his feet, "I'd better start catching up on some of the
studying I lost over Christmas" he said, walking away from the table as quickly as he could.

The hours with Harry flew by like minutes. She didn't realize how much time she spent
talking about what had happened and listening in turn to her best friend's stories.

"You're not mad at me?" she finally asked.

"No, Hermione. You've always been there for me, and I'll be there for you. I can't say I
understand your choice, and I'm not thrilled about it," he crossed her eyes. "But I trust you."

Hermione rested her head against his shoulder, sighing. "Thank you, Harry."

"Ron will calm down," he began. "He just needs time."

"You think so?" she whispered.

"Yeah, I think he'll be distracted by something else quite soon" the boy smiled, slipping his
hand into his pocket.

Hermione stared at him curiously as he pulled a small velvet box out of it. It took a few
seconds for her stressed and tear-stained mind to realize what it was.

"Oh," she opened her mouth wide, then hugged him. "I'm so happy for the two of you".

"Wait, wait," Harry interrupted her, releasing himself from her embrace. "She hasn't said yes
yet."

Hermione patted him on the back, finally happy to get some good news. "When are you
going to propose?"

"I was going to do it on Christmas Eve, but.."

"Oh," Hermione lowered her gaze, thinking about that day.

"Malfoy came looking for you, you know" Harry explained. "He thought you were at the
burrow. Ron didn't saw him, so he doesn't understand, but-" he paused. "I saw the fear in his
eyes, and it was genuine."

"Harry, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be" he tried to hearten her, turning a toothy smile on her face. "I have a better idea in
mind for this" he said, staring at the small box between his fingers, "and I'll need your help."

Enthusiasm lit up again in Hermione's face. She raised an eyebrow, curious and excited. "I'm
listening."

Enthusiasm, sadness, fear, and nostalgia were the emotions that rattled Hermione's stomach
as she walked in the direction of her dorm.

Things with Ron had gone worse than she would have expected.
However, Harry had been understanding.

There was something different about him. Since the end of the war he was more mature,
calmer, less impulsive.

She knew it was Ginny who had that effect on him, and she was happy for them. They
belonged to each other, it had always been that way.

As soon as she crossed the threshold of the common room, Draco pulled her into his arms.

Hermione let herself go against him, venting all the emotions she was feeling in that
embrace.

He pulled her close to him, dragging her to the couch.

He stroked her hair, inhaling her scent while hugging her.

Noticing the redness in her eyes, still bright from crying, he asked, "Do you want to talk
about it?"

Hermione, though hesitant, gave voice to her fears, releasing her emotions. She let out
through words all the anger she was feeling.

She even told Draco about her relationship with Ron, being pleasantly surprised at how he
simply stood and listened to her.

"Wait," he interrupted her mid-story.

Hermione realized that she had been talking for quite a while. She glimpsed out the window,
admiring the orange lights of the sunset.
" Weasley wanted you to live with him at his parents' house?"

"Yes," she affirmed, encouraged by his interest.

She had never vented to anyone about it. Her two friends, Harry and Ginny, were both too
close to Ron for her to feel free to talk about it.

"And he claimed I shouldn't come back to Hogwarts."

A veil of sadness and resentment invaded Draco's features. "Why?"

"Because he believed that after the war I would be hired anywhere even without my
N.E.W.T.s" she wheezed. "But I don't care, I don't want to receive a different treatment from
anyone else. Wasn't this the whole point of the war?"

She lifted her gaze to meet Draco's, finding an indecipherable expression on his face.

He grabbed a lock of her curls, twirling it between his fingers. "Why did Weasley want you to
move in with him? Is there something else?"

Hermione was silent for a few seconds. She lowered her gaze.

It would have been okay to talk to Draco about her parents, but…

She had hardly talked to anyone about it. Her friends believed she was still trying to restore
their memories, while all the specialists she had spoken to over the summer had told her there
was no hope.

She had kept that information to herself. To say it out loud was to admit the she had lost
them.

Forever.

There was nothing more she could do to have them back in her life.

"Hermione," Draco's hand caressed her face, forcing her to look up. "What happened to your
parents?"

His eyes, his gaze, the gentle touch of his fingers against her face - everything about him
conveyed confidence to her.

She inhaled deeply. "They don't know they have a daughter."

The words left her mouth faster than her brain could control them. And in that moment she
felt lighter, as if the weight she had been carrying around for months was now a little less
overwhelming.
The rest happened without her realizing it: she told Draco everything, even the things she had
never told anyone.

She talked about the spell she had used, about all the specialists she had consulted without
success. She told him of her trip to Australia, where her parents had been living for over a
year now. She shared her pain with him, feeling better word after word.

She cried against his chest, comforted by his hands, his embrace, his breaths.

She didn't think talking about it would make her feel better, but with Draco everything came
naturally.
So it was that she found herself cupping his face in her small hands, devouring his lips in a
kiss that encompassed desperation and desire.

Draco's arms wrapped around her, dragging her straddling him on the small couch.

Her hands ventured to his chest, opening the buttons of his shirt one by one.

"Hermione," the blond grabbed her wrist. "Are you sure?"

"Yes," she gasped. "I need you."

At those words Draco's hands tightened tightly around her hips, slipping under the skirt of her
uniform.

He caressed the damp fabric of her underwear. A smirk formed on his face as the rate of her
breathing quickened.

Hermione's hands ran down his chest, heading down to where she could feel his erection
pressing against her thigh. Two of Draco's fingers slid into her without warning, making her
gasp in surprise at that invasion.

He took advantage of the moment to unbutton his pants, releasing his erection.

Hermione's pulse quickened. She had never done it like this.

Draco stood motionless, staring at her as the tip of his penis caressed her hot, wet entrance.

He stood there in agonized anticipation, biting his lip to resist the temptation to lift his pelvis
and thrust himself into her.

No, he wasn't going to do it.

This was for her. She was the one who needed him.
He would respect her timing, her rhythm.

Everything she wanted.

Hesitantly, Hermione went along with the pressure she felt, sliding into him.
She felt him inside her in a new and different way.

"Oh my…" she exclaimed when he was inside her full length.

"Yes, Hermione" Draco replied, unceremoniously tearing the blouse from her uniform and
venturing onto her breasts while she slowly started to move her hips up and down. "Like
this".

"Take what you need from me" he whispered against her smooth skin.

"I'm yours."

With his eyes closed, he tossed and turned under the covers, clutching Hermine's small
sleeping body to his chest.

The chirping of the birds outside suggested that it was now daylight, yet he had no intention
of getting up this early.

As the minutes passed, the chirping of the birds became more and more insistent.

It was strange.

It was January, it was still too cold for them to be so many….

Knock

He continued to keep his eyes closed, trying to get away from the noise outside and enjoy the
quietness of the bedroom.

Knock

He opened his eyes. The noise was coming from the outside, but it was close.

He got out of bed slowly, taking care not to disturb Hermione.

He left the bedroom, entering into the cool common room illuminated by the rays of the
dawn sun.

Knock

He followed the source of that sound, approaching the large windows at the far end.

More owls than he could count were scattered between the window and the sill, each with a
letter or rolled-up parchment in its beak.

Many of the letters bore a lacquered seal, and in some of them he recognized the coat of
arms of many important purebloods families.
With his mind still too foggy from sleep to form a hypothesis of what was going on, he
opened the window, just long enough for only three of the owls outside to make it in.

He quickly grabbed a scroll from the beak of a large brown-feathered bird, unrolling it so fast
he risked tearing it apart.

It was an elegant calligraphy.

Hermione Granger, I have always looked up to your brilliant scholastic career with great
admiration, and my esteem for you has grown even higher since your brave actions during
the war.

It would be a great honor for me to invite you to dinner to get to know you better.

Fleamont Kingsley

Draco wrapped the piece of paper in his hands, rolling it up and throwing it on the floor.

He opened another letter, which made him even more nauseous.

The owls outside the window continued to increase, and several of them even carried small
packages.
He opened one, finding a diamond necklace inside.

What on earth was going on?

He dreaded the answers his brain kept coming up with.

Grabbing a sweater from the chair and not bothering to change the pajama pants he was
wearing, he catapulted out of the dorm and down the stairs.

The hallways were empty and quiet, it was still too early. The great hall was deserted, except
for a few early risers scattered here and there in the tables of the four houses, frantically
scribbling on sheets of parchment.

No trace of his friends.

With his heart in his throat he walked down the road that led to the dungeons, hoping to meet
them along the way.

"Draco."

He heard his name being called halfway down the road.

Theo reached him, running from the opposite end of the hallway.

He had a worried expression on his face, something he hadn't often seen in Theodore Nott.

It only added to his agitation.

The boy handed him what was in his hands, and it took Draco a few seconds to realize that it
was the Daily Prophet.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" he blurted, staring at the paper he held in his hands
but not focusing on what was imprinted on it.

"Good morning to you too, Malfoy," Theo gasped, still panting from the run. "I think you
should read."

Blinking to focus, and slowing the pace of his breaths, Draco finally catched sight of the
words in front of his eyes.

A photograph of Hermione, along with Harry and Ron, was in the center of the page.

Chaos in the magical world.

It would appear that the much adored Muggle-born heroine, Harry Potter'd best friend and
former lover, is not so Muggle-born after all.

Safe sources claim that Miss Hermione Granger carries one of the rarest genes of our world.

Her apparent muggles origins and her fame as a war heroine now make her one of the most
famous and coveted omegas in all Britain.

Who will be the lucky one to make the beautiful Gryffindor princess his own?

We'll just have to wait and find out.

Rita Skeeter
 Chapter 25
Chapter Notes

Warning: smut is coming!

One more to go, so thank you to everyone who is reading and who reached this point! ❤
Hope you'll enjoy:)

Without saying another word to his friend, Draco ran up the street he had just come from.

He clutched that piece of paper in his hands as the words he had read on it echoed in his
head.

He had only one certainty: it had been Lucius.

Few people were aware of Hermione's condition and none of his friends would have done
such a thing.

He found himself in front of the portrait that led to the dormitory.

He paused for a second, letting his lungs finally catch their breath after the run.

He walked in, hoping that Hermione was still asleep.

But it was a futile hope.

She was standing in the center of the common room, surrounded by owls flocking to the
windows in increasing numbers.

The moment the door swung open, she lifted her eyes, bright and frightened, from a letter she
was holding.

Draco ran to her, clutching the Daily prophet firmly in his hands.

"Hermione," he hugged her. "I'm so sorry-"

"I want to read," she insisted, releasing herself from his embrace and reaching out to grab the
paper from his hands.

Draco waited, watching silently as her eyes scrolled quickly over the pages. It was as if he
could sense what she was feeling. All the emotions he read in her sweet features flooded
through him.
And Hermione felt strangely calmer, soothed by his mere proximity, by his presence so
irrationally reassuring.

A new determination was visible in her eyes.

Someone had decided to reveal her condition.

Sooner or later it would have happened.

She had hoped that she would have been able to decide by herself when, but she was used by
now to the idea that usually things don't go as planned.

She could use this to her advantage, she told herself.

It was prematurely time to dust off some of her old ideas from a few months ago. She had
read, she had researched. Then she had abandoned it all, distracted by Dr. Niewald's strange
attitudes.

But now that he was no longer a problem, she could finally focus on what she had cared
about since the beginning, since she had learned about the condition of omegas, even before
discovering that she was one herself: fighting for their rights, for herself and for all those like
her, so that they would no longer be considered as mere flesh, as submissive beings incapable
of their own will.

But first she would have to get rid of all these damn owls, and all the spineless male idiots
who had sent them.

Oh, she was going to turn the system upside down.

She felt furious and disgusted at the same time. The rage boiled in her veins with such
intensity that she forgot even her initial fear for what was going to happen-

Knock knock.

Both of them jerked. Instinctively, Draco stepped in front of Hermione, hiding her behind his
body.

Hermione heard the dormitory door open, but couldn't see who had interrupted them, hidden
by Draco's back.

Recovering from that instinctive outburst, Draco ducked, while McGonagall, standing in the
doorway, peered with a raised eyebrow at the chaos of letters and birds in and out of their
common room.

After a few seconds her eyes finally landed on the two of them standing in the center of the
room.

"I'll expect you in my study in five minutes. Both of you," she said.
She adjusted the glasses on her nose.

"I'll arrange to block the mail and instruct Filch to get rid of - she hesitated, gesturing with
one hand to the chaos in the room - this."

After that she turned her back on them and vanished, the door closing silently behind her.

Draco and Hermione stood motionless for a few seconds, meeting each other's eyes. There
was no need for words.

They both donned their uniforms in record time, leaving the common room hand in hand.

People were going to talk about her.

By now, hiding was meaningless.

Hermione's mind was a hurricane of thoughts as they walked towards the headmistress' study.

McGonagall invited them to take a seat in the two chairs in front of the desk.

Hermione couldn't help but notice the strange, winking smile that Albus Dumbledore's
portrait kept giving her.

"I think it's clear to all of us what happened," the woman began, though her words came
distantly to Hermione's ears, overwhelmed by the storm of her own thoughts.

McGonahall continued. "Unfortunately, someone has revealed Miss Granger's condition, and
the news is now on the daily prophet. I'm so sorry, Hermione."

Upon hearing her name being called, Hermione finally lifted her gaze.

"What can we do?" Draco interjected.

From his posture, Hermione could tell he was nervous. He sat on the edge of the chair, and
the tension in the muscles of his shoulders was visible even from above his sweater.

McGonagall directed her gaze at him. "Unfortunately, it was predictable that if the news got
out, it would generate interest," she had her gaze set between the two. "But I can assure you
that you will never be harmed again inside my school, Hermione," she then turned her gaze to
Albus Dumbledore's portrait. "I'll work to make Hogwarts a safe place for every student,
starting with you. And starting from tomorrow, all the mail will be blocked"

"Thank you," Hermione replied hesitantly.

Nothing McGonagall had said really mattered to her.

She wasn't worried about her safety.

She didn't feel in any danger.

Not since Draco had rescued her, not if he was by her side.
She knew what she wanted.
He had to bite her.

"I think it was Lucius," the blond intruded again, his fists clenched.

"Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about that, even if we had proof."

"What about the rest?" Draco asked again.

"The Aurors are working on it," replied the headmistress, keeping her tone calm and
composed. "But until they find some definite evidence-"

"I can testify," he rose from his chair, as the shred of patience he had been firmly clinging to
began to abandon him.

"Our aurors know that. But if they haven't asked you yet, it means they have a lead" the
woman stood up as well. "Trust them, Mr. Malfoy. I will make sure Lucius pays for what he
did".

Without adding anything else, the woman dismissed them.

Without either of them realizing it, they walked back in the direction of their common room.
Hermione's mind, despite the quick succession of thoughts, programs, and planning, was
clear.

More than clear, in fact.

There was no doubt or wavering. She knew what she wanted, and it was just what they
needed to do to make all of their problems disappear.

But she remained silent, keeping to herself the determination, fueled by the anger and desire
for revenge, that boiled in her veins.

She knew Draco would not approve of what had to be done.

Draco's nerves were as taut as violin strings.

He was furious. He had been since the damned instant he decided to get out of bed and go
down to the common room.

From that moment on, every single nerve fiber in his body had gone crazy, fueled by that
irrational instinct that was part of him.

He had tried to keep calm, to be lucid. It hadn't been easy at all.

But he did his best. For her.

Yet he hadn't expected this reaction from Hermione.

He knew she wasn't really as calm as she wanted to make out.

But why was she persisting in pretending with him?

They reached their dormitory and he stood motionless in the center of the common room,
watching as she ran from side to side as if the conversation with the headmistress had never
happened.

She grabbed her bag and began stuffing various books into it.

Draco couldn't understand her attitude. And he was beginning to lose patience.

His instincts were rebelling. He was furious, jealous.

And those damn owls kept bumping into their windows.

God, for the first time he really missed the dungeons.

If only partially, occlumency helped, allowing him to lock that wildest, most brutal part of
himself in a confined corner of his mind. He couldn't let jealousy get the best of him.
He had to be rational: that was what Hermione needed.

He stopped in front of her, eyeing her bag loaded with books. "What are you doing?" he
asked, his tone more possessive than he would have liked.

"I have to go to the library," Hermione stated, loading the heavy bag onto her shoulder.

The weight of the books she was carrying made her lose her balance momentarily.

Draco grabbed her. "To study? Right now?"

Hermione huffed, starting toward the door.

Draco clenched his jaw.

Salazar, he wanted to remain calm. He really wanted to.

But she was making everything so difficult.

He grabbed her by the arm. "You don't have to pretend everything is okay with me too,
Hermione."

"I'm not-"

"Yes you are," he crossed her eyes, then inhaled, calming his nerves and loosening his grip on
her arm. "Please Hermione, talk to me."

At those words something stirred inside her.

What was she doing?

She lowered her gaze to her bag loaded with books.

Inside she knew why she was avoiding Draco: they needed to go through the conversation
they had just a few days ago.

He had to bite her.

The sooner he'll do it, the better.

She couldn't believe that it was necessary in order to shake off practically every alpha in
Britain, but she accepted it out of a matter of practicality.

The just needed to anticipate things. She had already made her decision.

She wanted him, she knew she wanted him.

He was the one struggling with doubts, apparently.

He needed to do it so that she would be immune to all the other slimy alphas and do what she
wanted from the beginning: overturn the system, secure laws and protections for all those
"different" people and creatures who had always been oppressed in this world of bigoted and
conservative wizards.

"I know what I have to do," she said. "For witches like me. I fought in the past so that
Muggleborns would not be discriminated, I will fight again, this time for a different cause."

Draco listened to her carefully, thinking she was an incredible witch. No matter what
happened to her, she always managed to find the will to fight again.

Her eyes shone with determination, but from the way she was looking at him he could tell
there was something she wasn't revealing. It was so easy to read her.

He didn't know when it had happened, he wouldn't be able to say at what specific moment in
their story he had become able to read her feelings. It was just the way it was.

"I'll help you," he said, trying to succeed in showing her how devoted he was to her.

However, his body betrayed the nervousness that his words and calm tone of voice were
trying to mask.

"I was hoping you would say that," Hermione affirmed.

The expression on her face changed.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You already know," insisted Hermione, maintaining eye contact.

Draco tightened his lips into a thin line. "No."

"What?" She exclaimed, stunned. "No? Really?"

Draco shrugged at her, approaching the window still besieged by owls. "That's not necessary.
No one can hurt you here at Hogwarts, it was McGonagall herself who said so. And from
tomorrow she's going to block the mail," he tightened his jaw. "These fucking owls won't be
bothering us. "

Hermione, inwardly, knew that this would be his reaction.

A small part of her was trying to be understaing and accept his reasons, but the more
emotional and irrational part that had been taking over for the past months was still longing
for him to just do it.

God how she longed for it.

She took a deep breath, readjusting her bag on her shoulder. She glanced at her watch,
realizing she was still on time for breakfast. "I hope you'll change your mind, Draco. I don't
fully understand the reasons for your decision, but I accepted it because you needed it. But
now I'm the one who needs this."

Without giving him a chance to respond, but hoping that her words would stick with him, she
vanished behind the door and headed for the great hall with her stomach in turmoil but
definitely hungry.

However, her stomach would have to wait.

She didn't have time to reach the great hall when a voice called to her. She turned, finding her
best friend running up to her.

"Harry," she greeted him, surprised and at the same time resigned to having to broach the
subject of the news.

"You didn't have to come all the way back here, I've faced worse and this isn't the first time
Skeeter decides to pick on me."

"I know, I know," the boy pulled her into a secluded corner of the hallway, looking around
furtively. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I was in Hogsmeade to make
arrangements for this weekend and-"

"This weekend?!" retorted Hermione in an all too loud tone of voice.

The boy motioned her to lower the volume.

Hermione recomposed herself. "I thought it would take you longer."

"I don't want to wait any longer," he said decisively. "And I think the news of the hero of the
wizarding world's engagement will manage to distract the rumors a bit, you know."

Hermione hugged him. "Thank you, Harry. So tell me, what do you need me to do?"

With his nerves on edge, and having completely lost his appetite, Draco did the only logical
thing he could do: prepare for class as if nothing was wrong.

This situation would soon calm down

Tomorrow Mcgonagall would block the mail,

and without these fucking owls flying around, Hermione would put the problem aside and
stick to the schedule they had set.

Because he wanted to do it, he really did. But he was at the same time terrified.

What would he turn into?

What if Hermione regretted it?

She had argued with his friends only the day before, and they had told her what he feared the
most: that she deserved better, that he was just a failed Death Eater, that he was just using her.

What would they say if he bonded with her forever?

Would he be accused of doing it by force?

Who would believe that it was what they both wanted?

He walked the halls overwhelmed by these thoughts.

He would not be sharing classes with the Gryffindors for the rest of the morning.

If memory serves, Hermione even had the morning off.

He mentally counted the number of hours he would spend separated from her.

He wondered what she had to research so urgently in the library. Was there anything else now
that she didn't know about Alpha and Omega biology?

He started toward the spell class filled with resentment, anger and jealousy. His friends were
already in the classroom when he arrived, but most of the students were absent.

He took a seat next to Pansy, ignoring Zabini and Theodore sitting in the row behind them.

"How did she take it?" whispered Pansy, as the students slowly made their way into the
classroom, whispering amongst themselves.

Draco didn't fail to notice several copies of the Daily Prophet poking out of their bags.

He clenched his fists against the edge of the table. This was going to be a long day.

"Draco?" Pansy called his attention back.

He finally looked up at her, remembering her question.

"It's complicated," he merely replied.

"Who do you think did it?" asked Pansy again.

He tightened his lips. He would bet his probably non-existent inheritance on Lucius.
"I know what you're thinking, but I don't believe he is to blame this time," the girl stated as
Professor Flitwick made his entrance into the classroom.

Draco raised an eyebrow, curious and frightened at the same time.

Who could have revealed the news to Skeeter?

Actually, now that he thought about it, it wasn't his father's style.
Lucius was mean, cruel, hypocritical.

But this?

After kidnapping Hermione and trying to do something hugely illegal and immoral as a

non-conensual magical transfer, who could have killed both her and Astoria, leaking the
news to Skeeter seemed such a frivolous and trivial things.

Still, if nothing else, Lucius had a reason for it.

Who else could have wanted to make his life and Hermione's a living hell?

Who else knew of their plight and hated them so much?

Magnus had been taken to Azkaban and Astoria was at St. Mungo's.

But perhaps…

Professor Flitwick assigned them a spell to practice on, but Draco did not hear which one.

Pansy, however, had already set to work, holding her wand and pointing it at a cup that had
suddenly materialized on their work surface.

"Do you think it was-?"

"Yes," affirmed the girl, waving her wand. "I'd put a hundred galleons on Daphne
Greengrass."

Hermione spent the hours immersed in law and jurisdiction textbooks. Biology had no more
secrets for her, but it was not enough to know only that for what she wanted to do.

Only when it was late afternoon she decided to finally interrupt her study. For it being the
first day on this new project, her research had been satisfactory.

Besides, she still had a lot to think about: it wasn't just the thought of the discussion she
would surely have with Draco that was bothering her.

She needed to talk to Ginny. She had promised Harry that she would make sure she didn't
have any commitments or workouts next weekend, relating to him that she would be at
Hogsmeade.
Considering also that she had to offer the redhead explanations about what had happened, she
knew that the conversation with her would last at least a couple of hours.

Therefore, at the time she knew classes would end, she left the library and went to look for
her.

She found her coming out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom along with Luna.
She walked over to them.

"Herm," Ginny opened her mouth wide. "I've been looking for you all morning."

"I know," affirmed Hermione. "I'm sorry, I know I have a lot of explaining to do." She turned
back to the Ravenclaw. "Luna, do you mind if I talk to Ginny alone for a bit?"

"Oh, not at all," the blonde smiled, staring at her blankly. "I'll see you," she said, putting on
her strange glasses and walking away down the hallway.

When they were finally alone, the redhead hugged her, instantly starting to bombard her with
questions.

Resigned, Hermione told the whole truth once more, in a much more open and calm way than
she had done with Harry and Ron, walking with Ginny along the courtyard to the shores of
the black lake.
Venting made her feel better, but she couldn't afford to get too distracted with her problems:
she made a promise to Harry.

"I'm sorry you had to keep it a secret. I could have helped you, you know-"

"I know," Hermione intervened, hugging her friend warmly.

"And don't worry about Ron. He's an idiot, but he'll get over it," she resumed. "I'm suspecting
he's having an affair, Harry lets something slip from time to time."

Hermione, without realizing it, breathed a sigh of relief.

Ginny smiled. "You two were too different," she said. "Opposites attract, it's true. But the
similar ones spark."

"How's it going with Harry?" asked Hermione, catching the ball in hopes that she could shift
the conversation to him.

"Oh, don't try to change the subject," laughed the redhead. "Now I want to know the details
about Malfoy."

Hermione blushed, lowering her gaze. "It's getting late," she said, staring off into the horizon.
"How about we talk about it over a butterbeer this weekend at Hogsmeade? If you're not busy
with practice-"

Ginny seemed to ponder that for a few moments. "No, not really," she said. "I auditioned for
Holidays Harpies before Christmas break, but I haven't heard back from them yet," her
features were momentarily furrowed with a worried expression. "So yes, I could use a
butterbeer".

Hermione cheered to herself.

Excellent.

All according to plan.

Evening came quickly. She stared at the clock on the ceiling of the common room, waiting
for the moment when Draco would cross the threshold.

He wasn't going to change his mind that quickly, she knew that.

But she hoped her words had shaken his stubbornness at least a little.

At 9 p.m. sharp, the dormitory door swung open.

Hermione stood up, watching the image of an exhausted Draco Malfoy walk into the
common room.

This mustn't have been easy for him, she realized.

His face was much paler and duller than it had been that morning. His eyes were red and
shiny.

All the words she wanted to say died in the back of her throat when she saw him approach
her.

They spent several seconds in silence, staring into each other's eyes.

When the waiting became unbearable, Hermione opened her mouth to speak. And it was at
that moment that Draco exploded.

"I can't do this," he yelled. "Not now, not like this."

His hands shook. "Every cell in my body is in agony as much as I want to, but at the same
time I'm fucking terrified."

He extended a hand in front of her, letting her see the tremor in his fingers. "This," he said,
"this is my self-control slipping away." He put his hand away. "And every time you talk about
it, all my mind does is thinking about that damn bite," he took a step back. "And even
occlumency doesn't help me to stop thinking about what it would be like-"

He brought a hand to his face, covering his nose and mouth. Then he gave her his back. "I
can't do this," he affirmed. "I'm trying to control myself, and you're making it so hard-."

"Don't do it" Hermione hesitated, watching the muscles in his back tense under the thin fabric
of his shirt.
"Don't hold back" she took a step towards him.

Draco turned, revealing fiery eyes like never before.

He advanced toward her slowly, with a predatory air.

"Is that what you want, Hermione?" he said.

His tone of voice was different. "Do you want to see me lose control? Do you want to see
what I've been holding back for all this time?"

Without realizing it, Hermione took a step back. Then another.

She found herself against the wall.

Draco stood in front of her.

His eyes lost, his body towering over her.

She remained still, unable to think, feeling his breath on her forehead.

One of his hands caressed her neck, moving up along it to her cheek.

His hand encircled her face. "I can show you," he said, staring at her lips. His eyes were now
two black pools.

"I could set it free. I could release that part of me-" he gasped, stroking the outline of her
lower lip with his thumb, "that part of me that you insist on provoking."

Hermione closed her eyes, allowing herself to be overwhelmed by the feel of his body
pressed against her, by his scent.
It was so easy to get lost when he was so close….

"No," Draco's hand tightened on her face. "Open your eyes," he ordered.

He was out of control, she knew. He was doing what he never wanted to do: he was using that
tone with her.

He knew the effect it had, he knew she would obey, she would do anything he ordered her to
do.

He felt fireworks in every cell of his body the instant Hermione opened her eyes.

"Look at me," he told her. "I want you to see for yourself".

He took a step back, though his body rebelled at the loss of that warmth and contact.

After that his hands reached for the buttons of his shirt, beginning to open them one by one,
slowly.

Hermione's eyes were on him. She was aroused.

He could see it in the way she was squeezing her legs together. And he could feel it, he could
smell it in the air.

He slowly slipped his shirt off, releasing his left forearm into full view. There was no point in
ignoring it now, not if they were going to be bound to each other forever.

He stretched his arm out in front of Hermione, letting her see that mark.

She didn't react. Her arousal did not diminish. She continued to stare at him with the same
gaze she always had.

Dilated pupils darted from his forearm to the scar on his chest.

Against Draco's every expectation, Hermione lifted her small hand, mimicking his gesture.

He held his breath, observing as one by one the buttons of the her shirt were opened,
revealing her rosy skin. Hermione stretched her own left arm forward, beside his.

Draco lowered his gaze.

No, this wasn't what he wanted. This wasn't what he was trying to prove.

"They don't mean anything," she stated.

That faint voice was like gasoline in his ears, blazing the fire inside him.

He stared at their outstretched forearms for a few seconds, until the flames reached his head.

He grabbed Hermione's arm, stretched out in front of him, pulling her to him. He sank into
her lips, losing himself in her. His hands slid along the soft flesh of her thighs, lifting her up.

She opened her mouth wide in surprise, struggling to balance herself.

"I won't let you fall," he said, breathing against her neck.

His feet carried her toward the bedroom, lit only by the small lamp on Hermione's desk. He
laid her down on the bed, tearing away without any delicacy the few clothes she still had on.

He wanted her body completely naked. He didn't want to miss an inch of her skin.

"Now turn around," he ordered her.

Hermione's face was crossed with a confused and frightened expression.

"Turn around," Draco repeated, directing her body so that her back was to him.

His gaze slid downward, along the curve of her ass, and his penis pulsed in his pants,
yearning to be released.

"This," he said, wrapping a hand around her curls and inviting her to bend and arch her back.
"This is what I've been holding back for all this time."

Hermione held her breath, her gaze fixed ahead, observing the full moon outside the window.

Her hands were shaking, she knew she wouldn't be able to hold her own weight for much
longer.

She heard the belt of Draco's pants unfasten.

That was the only warning she received.

Her vision blurred from the pain and intensity with which his penis pushed into her.

She closed her eyes.

There was no longer the moon, nor her bed, nor the school. There was only that feeling,
overpoweringly obscuring all her senses.

His firsts thrusts made her gasp in pleasure and pain, his hips colliding violently against her
flesh.

He breathed against her neck, one of his hand sliding over her body while the other firmly
grasped her hair.

"Say it," whispered his voice voice against her ear. "Say what you are."

Sweat ran down her skin.

His penis buried itself in her, waiting. Her walls clenched around it, begging for it to move.

Hermione opened her mouth. "Your omega."

Draco gasped, slipping away and thrusting hard into her again.

"And you'll be forever," he said, continuing to thrust faster and faster.

"You will" he kept repeating, as the pace of his thrusts increased.

His fingers found her clit. "You will be, Hermione," he said again. "I promise".

Despite the brutal force of his trusths, his touch was light.

The pressure was just right, just what she needed, his movements as fast as his wild thrusts.

The orgasm swept over her.

Her body trembled, her arms no loger holding her weight.

Draco's powerful arms wrapped around her waist, supporting her.

"You will be," he kept repeating against her ear, pushing into her with desperation.
"But not today."
 Chapter 26
Chapter Notes

So, this is the last one!

Thank you to everyone who read, left kudos and commented this!

💓
I really hope you'll enjoy this, and thank you for inspiring me to keep going with the
translation!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

If his goal was to scare her, or to get her to change her mind, then Draco Malfoy had
miserably failed.

Hermione Granger had never been the sort of person who easily change his mind, and what
Draco tried to prove to her had the opposite effect to what the he actually hoped: she realized
she wanted it even more.

For a moment, when she thought he was finally going to bite her, she felt different. Stronger
and, contrary to what he might have thought, freer.
Maybe that was what he didn't understand: the difference between a bond and a chain.

Yet, her brian couldn't help but make her empathize with him: she understood how he must
be feeling.

The doubts and fears that tormented him were more than legitimate, she realized.

So she decided, for the days that followed, to stop insisting and give him the time he needed
to work things out.

In the meantime, no longer tormented by the flock of owls that had attacked her a few days
ago, she concentrated her energies on what Harry had told her about.

The weekend was approaching, and with it the trip to Hogsmeade and the famous proposal.

She was relieved that Harry had chosen to bring the proposal forward to this weekend. She
hoped that the news would divert everyone's attention away from her at least a little.

She was the talk of the town in the newspapers, and as she walked the halls of the school she
could hear even the portraits whispering behind her back, along with the awkward stares from
the boys and the despicable looks from the girls who followed her wherever she went.

She felt a familiar burn coming from her pocket and, looking around to make sure no one saw
her, she pulled out the enchanted galleon she and Harry had been communicating with since
the mail had been blocked.
H.H. confirmed said the coin.

Hermione found herself smiling.

God, Ginny was going to lose her mind.

Draco closed in on himself for the next few days, pondering and reflecting about the thing he
longed for and was deeply terrified of at the same time.

Hermione spent her time running up and down the castle, caught up in organizing Potter's
famous proposal.

He didn't think he would ever admit it out loud, but he was grateful to Potter for offering
Hermione, and even the newspapers, a distraction.

However, although he was certain that inside the castle she would be safe, he was no longer
able to get too far away from her. Because of this, his gaze was always on her during the
classes they shared. And when they didn't have classes together, he was the first to leave the
classroom at a brisk pace, wandering out of the door he knew she would be exiting through.

And it was his inability to get too far away from her the reason why he was now walking
alone through a crowd of third-year students, while Hermione, arm in arm with the redhead,
advanced toward the Three Broomsticks a few feet ahead.

"If you're trying to blend in, I hate to break it to you but it's not working," Pansy exclaimed,
starting to walk at his side in the crowd of students.

"Pansy, can you see Draco?" continued Theodore emphatically.

"Oh, there you are," he taunted, patting him on the back. "You know, it was really hard to see
your blonde head in this crowd of five-feet kids."

Draco rolled his eyes, wondering at the same time what was worse: spending the afternoon in
the corner of the pub between Gryffindors and readheads, or feeling like the third wheel
between his two friends?

He looked around, wondering what had happened to Blaise.

"Don't worry, Draco," Pansy called back to him, her lips weakly bent in a frivolous smirk.
"You won't have to choose."

"Wh-what?" the blond asked, straining to comprehend what was going through Pansy's
twisted mind and aware that it was a losing challenge all along.

"Theodore and I are really in the mood for a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, aren't we?"
she raised an eyebrow at the boy who, Draco noticed, had lost his casual gait and was trying
to loosen the knot on his tie.

Draco sighed. "How did you know?" he asked.

He wasn't sure what Pansy's intentions were or why she seemed excited to witness Potter's
very stupid marriage proposal.

The one thing he was certain of, however, was that whatever she had concocted, he wanted to
stay out of it.

Pansy laughed, pressing herself against Thedore's chest.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, resigned. "Whatever you're up to, screwing up Potter's
wedding not even a year after trying to hand him over to Voldemort-"

"Oh please," she blurted out suddenly, not bothering to yell.

Draco realized in that moment that he had never heard Pansy Parkinson raise her voice before
in his entire life.

The girl shook her hair out of her face, quickening her pace seemingly annoyed. "See you
there, Malfoy," she concluded, dragging Theodore with her.

Straining to hold back her excitement, Hermione dragged Ginny to the Three Broomsticks.
The two girls took a seat at a small table in the middle of the place and ordered butterbeers.

The redhead didn't fail to point out how unusually crowded the place was, and Hermione
thoughtfully distracted her by answering her embarrassingly personal questions about her
affair with Malfoy.

"You know," the redhead said, taking a sip from her second butterbeer of the afternoon. "I
had noticed there was something odd about the way he always looked at you."

Hermione merely nodded, not listening to her words but looking around and nervously
tapping her foot against the table leg in impatience.

Where the hell had Harry gone?

Maybe there had been some problem with-

The door of the pub burst open and Ginny had to blink several times to make sure that what
she was seeing wasn't an hallucination: the entire Holidays Harpies team entered the pub,
dressed in their classic uniforms and with brooms in tow.

The entire room fell silent and Hermione feared for a moment that Ginny was going to faint.

A tall woman with long black hair walked towards their table. She wore a gold C crest on her
uniform and she held a small letter sealed with a large wax H.

She advanced towards their table under the astonished gaze of the redhead and Hermione's
toothy smile.
"Ginevra Weasley?" she asked, causing her gaze to dart between the two, holding up the
letter before them.

"I-I," stammered the redhead, continuing to stare in amazement at the captain of her favourite
team.

The woman handed her the letter, which Ginny grabbed and began to open with trembling
hands.
"We usually send replies via owl," she said, as the Gryffindor's eyes darted to the page. "I
know you've been waiting for a few days now."

"I passed-" swallowed the girl, catching her breath "I passed the selections?"

"Yes," nodded the captain. "This summer you will be following our training program. We
have seen you on the Gryffindor team and believe you could start as a reserve as early as the
beginning of next season."

Noting that the girl was speechless, the woman continued.

"As I was saying, I know you've been waiting for several days now for an answer, and we
usually communicate them by mail. However…" she paused, turning to her teammates. "A
special person asked us to wait".

Ginny lifted her gaze, confused. The other team members, lined up in front of the pub's bar,
shrugged.

Harry was there, leaning against the bar, nervousness clearly visible on his face.
Ginny's eyes focused only on him, not even noticing the presence of the rest of her family.

She rose from her chair, causing her gaze to dart between the woman next to her and the boy,
who was advancing in her direction.

Harry joined her, smiling nervously. "Ginny," he began.

She threw her arms around his neck. "Harry," she said, loosening from the embrace visibly
confused. "You said you weren't going to make it this weekend." She lowered her gaze to the
letter in her hand and then back to Olivia, the team captain.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," the boy replied as his heart began to beat frantically.

Ginny heard his words but her brain was slow to register them. Her eyes had taken to
scanning the room, noticing the presence of the rest of her family.

And it was at that moment that Harry's words were finally processed by her mind. She turned
back to him. "What surpris-."

She stopped short, opening her mouth wide.

Harry was on his knee in front of her. In his hands he held a small velvet box with the largest
ruby she had ever seen inside.
She suddenly closed her mouth, realizing she was at a loss for words.

Fortunately, it was Harry who spoke.

"I know everyone will think I'm crazy. I know everyone will think that we are too young for
such a decision." His green eyes were covered in a glossy veil and his skin had taken on a
rosy hue somewhere between excitement and embarrassment.

"But I'm tired of not being with you, Ginny. Staying from you has been one of the hardest
challenges I've ever had to face," he swallowed, the hand holding the small box trembling
slightly. "And while I was hiding inside that damn tent, I swore to myself that if the war
would ever be over, I would want to be by your side, every moment of every day, for as long
as you wanted me."

The silence that reigned in the room was almost ethereal.

Everyone held their breath.

"So I'm here to ask you, Ginevra Weasley, will you marry me?"

A tear slid down the girl's cheek as she threw herself into Harry's arms.

Hermione didn't hear her "yes," probably whispered against the boy's lips.

The whole place erupted in applause and soon, without realizing it, they were in the middle
of a party.
Everyone's eyes sparkled with joy as they approached the couple to congratulate them.
Hermione could see something different in the looks of everyone's eyes: the spark of
rediscovered hope, the desire to reclaim the idea of a future that the war had ripped away
from them.

"Mmh-mmh." She turned around.

Ron was standing next to her holding two butterbeers. He handed one to her. "With ginger,
the way you like it," he said.

Hermione grabbed the glass, crossing his blue eyes. "Is this a gesture of peace?" she asked
wryly, hoping to ease the tension hovering between them.

The boy nodded, embarrassment and discomfort visible in his features. He murmured
something, but Hermione had a hard time hearing it: the noise in the club had grown louder.

Relatives, friends, and half the faculty of the school had come to congratulate the future
spouses.

The glance she exchanged with him let her know that he had something to say, so the two of
them headed for the pub's exit, dodging through the crowd of people who had come.

Holding her butterbeer, or what was left of it, Hermione waited silently for Ron to speak.
"Listen, Hermione… I've been too hard on you," he sighed. "And I'm sorry."

"Apology accepted," she interrupted him before he continued.

The redhead lifted his gaze, surprised. "Wh-what? That's it? You're not mad at me?"

Hermione seemed to ponder this for a few moments, considering her answer as she took a sip
from her glass. "No," she said decisively. "I never was. I was just…" she froze. Disappointed
was the word that got stuck between her vocal cords.

"I overreacted, I should have listened to you and trust you" the boy ran a hand through his
shaggy hair. "But… Malfoy" he exclaimed with a disgusted expression.

Then he recovered, shaking his head. "No, listen. I trust you, and I trust Harry. And if you
trust him-"

Hermione could tell from his tone of voice how much it was costing him to say those words.

"Thank you," she said.

They spent a few seconds of tense, awkward silence.

"We've always worked best as friends," Ron finally said, clearing their chests of the weight
they both carried.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Hermione concluded, relieving the tension. Then she
smiled. "So.." she began.

"Ginny told me about you and Padma."

"Oh, Ginny," cursed the boy, rolling his eyes.

Hermione laughed.

Everything seemed to be back to normal.

Inside the pub the situation took an unexpected turn, at least according to the three Slytherins
sitting at a small table in the back of the room.

"I didn't think Gryffindors were like this" began Thedore, not finding the adjective to
describe the situation that had taken hold in the pub.

The general enthusiasm for the news had involved everyone present, and in addition to the
crowd already invited by Potter, the rest of the students visiting the village had thoughtfully
joined in the festivities and took advantage of a free butterbeer.

"Are you kidding?" called back to him Pansy. "Impulsivity and pent-up rage certainly make
for great revelers," she said, following Seamus Finnegan with her eyes as he unsteadily
dragged a tray laden with butterbeers back to his table.
Draco meanwhile mentally counted the minutes that had passed since Hermione had left the
pub with Weasley, gritting his teeth in an effort to keep his bottom glued to his chair. He
knew how important his friendship was to her. He had to trust her, give her her space.

He tried to focus on the two sitting at the table with him, hoping to distract his mind for at
least a few minutes.

"Are you two going to explain what you're doing here?" he asked in a deliberately
provocative tone. "Don't make me think that you were really interested in the cheesy St.
Potter play."

"Trust me, Draco," Pansy shot him back, batting her eyelashes theatrically. "I don't think you
want to know."

"Oh," interjected Theo, who hadn't stopped looking around nervously since they'd set foot in
the village. "You don't want at all."

Draco frowned, pondering whether or not it was really worth pursuing further.

"But just in case you're interested in the details…" Pansy's voice froze on the last word as her
eyes focused on something in the distance.

She quickly exchanged a glance with Theo and, without giving any further details to the
blond, the two of them stood up abruptly, heading towards the back of the club.

Draco didn't even have time to ask questions: they walked away so fast that he was just able
to see them turn around a far corner, along with one of the many red heads present there that
night.

He stood still for a few seconds, pondering what he had just seen.

Theo was right.

He didn't want to know at all.

Feeling like a fish out of water sitting at the table alone, and having no more reason to stay
there given Hermione's absence, he drained the last sip of butterbeer left in his glass and
grabbed his jacket, heading towards the pub's exit with the intention of taking a walk.

Wading through the crowd to reach the main entrance, he caught a familiar blond halo out of
the corner of his eye.
He stopped suddenly, slowly turning his head.
He had seen correctly: his mother was there.

She was holding a child with the exact same hair color.

He blinked several times, fearing he was hallucinating.

Just when he was starting to think that Theo had slipped some strange potion into his
butterbeer, his mother looked up from the child she was holding and met his eyes from the
opposite end of the room.
Draco tried to compose his astonishment.

Narcissa handed the baby to the woman next to her: tall, thin, long brown hair and the exact
same blue eyes as his mother.
Andromeda.

"Draco," Narcissa said, reaching for him, her voice barely audible above the reigning din. "I
have many things to tell you. Would you like to take a walk?"

Incredulous and confused, he followed the woman out of the club, letting her drag him for a
walk around the village as she recounted what had happened over the past few weeks.

"I am truly sorry for what you had to go through, Draco," she finally said in a broken voice.
"I didn't think Lucius would go this far. I promised myself I'd give him one last chance, I
thought he'd finally changed this time" she shook her head, lowering her gaze. "But I've been
so stupid."

Draco remained silent. He had so many things to say that he didn't know which to start with.

His mother grabbed his hand. "I'm going to get a divorce," she said, with the conviction of
someone who had pondered such a drastic solution for a long time.
"I know what this will mean to you, but I've been secretly working with the Aurors for weeks
to help them collect the proofs they needed. Your father will pay for what he did, and once
we present all the evidence to the Winzegamot, your legacy will remain intact and you won't
lose a single galleon."

Draco returned the squeeze, crossing Narcissa's bright eyes. "I don't care," he exclaimed. "I
don't care about inheritance."

Then he hugged her, trying to convey in that gesture everything he was unable to express
with words.

He thought he had lost them both, that he no longer had a family.

He didn't care about name, money, prestige or reputation.

He could still count on his mother, and that was all that mattered. Everything else could wait.

Once the embrace was loosened, Narcissa gently stroked his face with one hand. "You're a
good man, Draco."

Two visibly tipsy and staggering students walked past them, heading towards the castle. That
sight, along with that of the sun on the verge of setting, brought Draco back to reality.

"But what are you doing here?" he said, tilting his head in the direction of the pub. "That
was…"

"Yes, Andromeda," Narcissa nodded, her delicate features bent into a sad expression. "I
contacted her after the war ended, after what happened" the two looked at each others,
Bellatrix's name hanging like a dementor in the air above their heads.

The woman then told him the story he had always heard about.

Time passed quickly as night fell on the village and Narcissa Malfoy retraced the events of
her adolescence and her lost and then found sister.

"I was young and naive at the time, and I lost my sister because of something I was
convinced I believed in," the sadness in her voice was replaced by determination and
resilience. "I'm not going to make the same mistake again."

Hermione and Ron spent the next few hours losing themselves in reliving past adventures,
dusting off old memories and laughing at many of their own misadventures. They had done a
lot of walking, she realized, noting the sudden feeling of heaviness in her legs.

"And with the most serious expression I'd ever seen, Harry literally replied 'there's no need to
call me sir, Professor-'" he froze, turning back to the girl who had stopped walking.

"Hermione, is everything okay?"

"Yes," she replied, looking around the dark path they had inadvertently wandered into.
"Maybe we should go back, it's getting late."

"Yes," nodded the redhead, flanking her and resuming the anecdotes of past years.

For Hermione, however, the return journey was much less cheerful and carefree than the
outward one.

Maybe it was the disturbingly dimly lit path, or the icy wind that seemed to have suddenly
risen, or the excessive silence that reigned all around: she had the feeling that something was
wrong.

A bad feeling settled without warning under her skin, making it impossible for her to
concentrate on her friend's stories.

She focused on the sound of the wind instead, and the sound of their footsteps along the path.

Something was wrong.

Clap clap

Clap clap

Clap

Clap.

She came to a sudden halt, turning around and extending her wand against what was
apparently an empty street.
But it wasn't.

They weren't alone: someone had followed them.

"Hermione, what-"

She didn't pay attention to Ron, taking a step forward.

"Revelio," she shouted toward nowhere.

The figure of a heavyset, scruffy looking man materialized before their eyes. Before she
could think of a spell to defend herself, the man threw himself at her with unprecedented
speed.

He crushed her to the ground, wrapping his slimy, filthy fingers in her curls.

Hermione struggled, unable to move under the weight of his body.

But the nightmare, thankfully, ended as quickly as it had begun.

A scream, a red light.

His body was catapulted backwards and her eyes stared up at the starry sky for a moment,
before Ron's worried face obscured her field of vision.

"Are you okay?" the redhead asked, holding her in his arms and making sure she wasn't hurt.

Her mind quickly regained contact with reality. A wild noise came from behind her back.

She turned around: Draco was there, lying on the body of the man, whose face was now
reduced to a pile of blood.

"Malfoy, that's enough," Ron shouted, getting to his feet. But his words had no effect.

"Malfoy, stop it," the redhead repeated, as he continued undaunted to pour his fists into the
unconscious man on the floor.

"Draco," Hermione whispered, her breathing heavy and her heart still racing.

At the sound of her voice the Slytherin finally stopped. He pulled away from the unconscious
body, running himself towards Hermione and holding her in his arms.

Ron immobilized the man with a series of spells.

The rest happened more quickly than ever: Harry was there, along with a team of Aurors and
Mcgonagall, who had joined the celebrations at the Three Broomsticks.

They returned to Hogwarts in silence.

The cheerfulness and enthusiasm that had characterized the previous hours suddenly
dissolved, vanished.
Draco was tense and silent, walking slowly with one hand clasped around his wand and the
other on Hermione's shoulder.

Hermione felt strongly uncomfortable: everyone's apprehensive attitude only made the
situation worse.

She didn't need this, she didn't want to feel like such a center of attention.

She knew what had happened. She knew why it had happened. And Draco knew, too.

Maybe they all knew.

"Hermione," Mcgonagall said, after forcing everyone else to leave the school, giving her a
moment of respite. "Pomfrey is coming to visit you, to make sure you're okay."

"No, please," she insisted, as Draco beside her became as tense as a violin string. "I'm fine,
really."

"You could be bleeding internally".

"I'm fine," the girl insisted, the weariness evident in her tone of voice. "I just need to take a
shower and some hot tea."

"All right," replied the Mcgonagall, adjusting her glasses over her face. "I'll have the elves
deliver it directly to your common room."

Nodding, without the strength to retort, the girl walked with Draco towards the dormitory in
religious silence.

She just wanted to shake off the bad incident, pretend that nothing had happened and recover
at least a bit of the enthusiasm and joy that had characterized that day.

She slipped into the shower hoping that Draco would decide to join her, but it didn't happen.

She let the hot water loosen her muscles and all the tension accumulated in them. When she
put on her pajamas and returned to the common room, Draco was still standing in the
doorway, where she had left him, and a steaming teapot had appeared on the table.

He stared at her intensely: she was pouring herself some tea as if nothing had happened,
while a storm raged inside him.

Perhaps the worst storm that had ever passed through his nerves.

Hermione felt Draco's eyes on her back, but couldn't find the courage to turn around.

She knew that the moment she met his gaze she'll explode. And she didn't want to do that.
She was so tired of arguing.

Grasping her steaming cup of tea, she sat down on the couch, in the vain hope that the little
theater she had put on to try to look relaxed and casual would be believable.
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Draco's head following her every move, while his
feet remained pinned just beyond the doorway.

Was he planning to stay there all evening? What was he doing?

She grabbed a book, knowing she wouldn't be able to read a word of it. She simply stared
blankly at the ink in front of her, furtively lifting her eyes from time to time.

He was still there.

Draco's gaze was still, as if enchanted.

Hermione had the impression that he was not staring at her now, but at something behind her
head.

She did not, however, have the courage to turn around.

She didn't know what was happening to her.

She feared what was going on inside Draco's head at that moment, but at the same time she
needed to find out.

Without realizing it, she lifted her gaze, staring into his eyes.

And that's when she saw it, as quick as the silent lightning that foretells the storm, the spark
that crossed his irises.

Draco's pupils shifted, crossing hers.

Hermione shuddered, unable to look away. She remained still, wrapping her fingers around
the edge of the book in her hand. She felt her breath catch.
Everything began to move in slow motion.

He opened his mouth and she watched his tongue travel along the outline of his lower lip.

Then, after a second that seemed like an eternity, he finally spoke.

"I'll do it" he said.

Hermione couldn't believe her ears. She put the cup down on the coffee table, completely
forgetting about the book on her lap, which fell to the floor when she stood up.

However, she paid no attention to it. Draco was in front of her in the blink of an eye.

She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out of it. Was this really happening?
Why was she gasping for breath?

Draco's lips ventured to her neck. "I'm so tired of waiting," he exclaimed, wrapping his arms
around her waist and lifting her up.
Instinctively, Hermione wrapped her legs around him, finally feeling the air rush into her
lungs as he carried her into his bedroom.

Her heart was beating wildly. She felt so scared and excited.
A chill ran through every single cell in her system.

Draco, on the other hand, finally felt alive, the adrenaline rushing through his veins leaving
no room for worry, fear or anything else.

All the emotions he had painstakingly suppressed for months on end were rising to the
surface.

His skin was on fire and his magic was vibrating. He could have blown up the entire castle if
he wanted to, he had the strength and power to do so. But there was nowhere else he would
rather be.

He laid Hermione down on the bed, letting his hands run over the goosebumps of her legs.
He ripped off her pajamas without a thought.

Now it was too late to turn back. He would no longer be able to hold back the animal that
was taking over his body: he was the one in charge now.

He stared at the her damp panties. He was hungry, he needed her so badly.

With hands fearful of adrenaline and excitement, he slipped that last piece of fabric off her
legs.

Hermione stood up, reaching out and grabbing onto the buttons of his shirt, starting to open
them one by one.

Draco groaned at the touch of her fingers.

He grabbed her wrists, cupping them in his hands and depositing a kiss on her knuckles.

Barely slowing the rhythms of his breaths, he sought out the her eyes.

"You have to trust me, Hermione," he said. "Just let yourself go. I'll take care of you."

Hermione's knees, already weak and tried, gave way for good.

God how she loved this feeling.

It wasn't like her: she was used to always being in control, never letting her guard down.

But with Draco, letting go was so easy…. His touch soothed her, made her feel safe. His
mere presence was enough.

She went along with the push of his arms, letting herself fall back against the mattress.
The arousal pulsing between her legs made her want to beg, but she restrained herself. She
closed her eyes instead, focusing on the feel of Draco's hands caressing the inside of her
thigh.

His fingers slid in front of her entrance.

"You're always so…" he froze, and Hermione felt his lips rest on hers "so wet for me."

A groan left Hermione's throat, followed immediately by an expletive from Draco. "Fuck," he
said, and Hermione heard the zipper of his pants.

She opened her eyes, entranced by the image of his bare chest. The sectum sempra scar
glowed under the dim lights of the room, splitting his abdomen in half.

She didn't realize he was about to enter her. She opened her mouth wide in a silent cry of pain
and surprise as Draco's penis made its way through her walls and her muscles tensed and
contracted to make room for him.

The weight of his muscular body crushed her as his breaths started caressing her neck in the
same rhythm as his thrusts.

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, sinking her fingers into the soft mass of his
hair.

She wanted to crush him against her.

Do it.
She wanted to beg.
Please.

His lips gently caressed her skin, and his tongue once again traveled along that spot on her
neck that he now knew more than well.

This was really happening, he couldn't believe it.

The knowledge that he no longer had to hold back made him lose all inhibitions. He had
spent months and months hoarding, holding back all his urges.

But no matter how hard he tried, it had never been possible to make them disappear. He had
simply buried them in the darkest, most remote corners of his mind, pruned and hidden in a
cage that he himself kept constantly reinforcing.

But now the cage had been opened and all the walls had collapsed. There was only his
instincts, his body and Hermione's. Her smell so inviting, her taste so delicious.

"I love you," he whispered against her neck as they were both overcome with a moan of
pleasure.

His penis continued to thrust into her relentlessly, unable to stop, unable to separate from her
warmth for more than a fraction of a second.
He opened his eyes, trying in vain to calm his beats. He stared at the spot on Hermione's rosy
skin on which he was about to imprint a mark.

"Are you ready?" he asked, shifting his gaze to her plump face.

"Y-yes," she gasped.

Her lips were pink and glossy, swollen from kisses. Her pupils two black pools, totally
dilated.
Her hands grasped tightly at his hair, tugging at it.

"Please, al-" she bit her lip, "Draco."

Draco, who had been holding his breath for those brief seconds, inspired at the top of his
lungs, burying himself in her with such force that he forced her to let her head fall back onto
the mattress.

He grabbed her wrists, pulling them away from his hair and pinning them to the bed.
His teeth found her pink skin again, soft and untouched.
It was so perfect, so pure. And she would be his, his alone.
His little omega.

His whole body trembled, his skin covered with shivers of excitement. His brain was foggy
and confused, he wouldn't have been able to remember even his own name at that moment.

From the expression on Hermione's face, and the way her belly heaved against him, he knew
she was about to come.

Salazar, this was the perfect time.

Yes, he was going to do it now, like this. He pushed his weight against her, applying friction
where he knew it would bring her to the edge of pleasure.

Her body had no more secrets for him now.

He inhaled her scent again, releasing his breath against her neck, where the source of that
scent lay. Hermione opened her mouth wide, and Draco knew it was time.

He didn't hesitate, but let go. He didn't have to think, his muscles knew exactly what to do.
His teeth penetrated that thin, fragile layer of skin.

A single drop of her blood leaked from the wound.

Hermione's body exploded. The orgasm overwhelmed her, and only a second later she was
overcome by the strongest sensation she had ever felt.

It wasn't pain. It wasn't even pleasure, not the way she knew it.

It was fire.
 Sparks on her skin, in her blood.

Draco felt like he was finally breathing again after months of apnea. The magic in his veins
came to life, along with a new strength he felt flowing through him.

He felt invincible. And he was. He really was.

Now that he had found his omega, he would do anything to protect her. Forever.

This new power flowed into his blood as his seed flowed into her.

Lulled by that heat, by the feeling of his seed in her, by the flames in her body and mind
slowly fading, Hermione opened her eyes.

She met Draco's, his gaze intense and lost in adoration.

She smiled. She felt so happy, so in peace.

She was in the right place, in her place in the world.

He opened his mouth slightly, his breath still heavy, their bodies entirely covered in sweat.

He just lowered his gaze, catching the trace of the single drop of blood that had slid down her
breast from her neck.

The smile on her face softened, and she met Draco's eyes again, staring at her, terrified and
enchanted at the same time.

His arms, she noticed, were trembling.

"So," she gasped, "now we're…"

The words were missing from her mouth. The idea that she would share the rest of her life
with him began, rationally, to settle in her mind. It was real now. It was no longer just talk, an
idea, or an hypothesis.

It was reality.

She felt happier and more excited than ever.

Draco seemed to sense her emotions, and a smile curved the corners of his mouth just barely,
before his lips parted in an almost inaudible whisper.

"Bonded".

Chapter End Notes

For those who may be interested, i post the first chapter of the next story I'll be
translating.

Also, you can find me on Tumblr http://ahimadala.tumblr.com

Once again, thank you! 💓

Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!