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“No, no, no… This can’t be happening now.” Hermione Granger rushes into the broom closet that masquerades as her office, shutting the door and leaning firmly against it. “For the love of Merlin.”
She takes deep, penetrating breaths and forces herself to open her eyes—take in her space. One desk, one chair, one insurmountable pile of paperwork regarding house elf rights, the ethical treatment of dragons in captivity, and other legal matters pertaining to magical creatures. Finally, her chest stops heaving and she can see straight again. Her knickers are absolutely soaked through, though. No need for a drying charm as it will start up again soon enough.
She had been sure there were at least two more weeks till her next heat. Presenting as an omega whilst studying for her N.E.W.T.s had been a nearly impossible feat, but (with the help of a Gryffindor alpha whom she refuses to even name in memory) she had gotten through it. Now, she keeps a stringent track of her heats and rides it out in her flat with the doors all locked, a silencing charm, and an insanely expensive dildo from one of those muggle sex shops.
It isn’t the best plan, but it works.
It had to be him —that alpha she smelled in the atrium this morning. That son of a witch has kickstarted her heat. She could, and should be mad, but the smell of him won’t leave her nostrils. It’s like cloves and pine and fresh parchment and all alpha . Worse than the most potent amortentia. She has half a mind to shove her hand up her robes and get herself off right now. But she has work to do. If she can just make it the rest of the day, she has enough leave saved up to take off for her heat starting tomorrow.
It works, for awhile. She makes a small dent in her paperwork, avoids thinking about the alpha, presses her thighs together so tightly that surely any cellulite is now gone from sheer force. Then, his scent hits her nostrils again—she could almost come just from that. She closes her eyes and lets it wash over her; he must be just outside her office. And then, he speaks. His voice—sweet Circe, it’s like honey and sex and—
Her office door swings open. “Granger?”
“ Malfoy ?!” No. No, it isn’t possible. Draco Malfoy cannot be the decadent smelling alpha who has jump-started her heat. And she definitely isn’t thinking of him bending her over her desk and fucking her six ways to Sunday. Absolutely not.
He gently steps inside and shuts her door. He’s taller than she remembers, with a deeper voice—though all of those things are to be expected of an alpha. He’s also more handsome, strikingly so. Her gland starts to throb and more slick seeps out, coating her already drenched knickers.
“That… isn’t wise.”
“What? Shutting the door?”
She nods, still seated. She cannot stand up. She will not stand up. If she does, she knows she’s going to throw herself at him. “I’m not sure I can control myself around you.”
"You ? What about me? Merlin’s beard, Granger. Why would you come to work when you’re in heat?”
“I wasn’t supposed to go into heat for two bloody weeks! This is all your fault. Your scent kickstarted my heat!” She is so furious, she is out of her seat now… and that is a mistake, she realizes as the color drains from Malfoy’s already pale face.
“You—” his gaze rakes over her body in the most lurid way, pausing long enough at her pelvic area for her to know he’s picked up on her arousal. “Oh fuck . You were right about the door.”
She hasn’t seen him since his trial over two years ago, when she testified on his behalf. He hadn’t presented yet. Neither had she. She went back to Hogwarts to finish her N.E.W.T.s and he must’ve done them via correspondence. Otherwise, she would have known. She would have known that Draco Malfoy was her—that he smelled and looked like this. Exasperated, she pinches the bridge of her nose. “What do you want, Draco?”
“You mean besides to take you back to my place and fuck you into oblivion?” He smirks. She’s seen that smirk a thousand times, usually saying something snarky and derogatory. Now all of a sudden it looks frighteningly sexy. Like she wants to kiss it right off his gorgeous face.
“Please don’t say things you don’t mean.” It’s so quiet, it’s almost a whisper. She’s already humiliated enough that he’s the one who’s making her suffer.
“ Hermione ,” he says her first name oh so gently, like someone trying to tame a wild beast. “I just spent the last few hours combing the ministry to find the omega whose scent had me on my knees this morning. Do you think I would joke about something like this?”
She gulps. This is shaping up to be a very odd day. “But, you hate me...” and I hate you , she almost adds. Only, it’s not true. Not anymore. She’s long since forgiven him, and tried to understand that he had only been acting as a product of his environment would. He can’t help who his parents are. Since the war and the trial, he’s tried making amends, to be better. She’s seen articles, and heard stories—even if she hadn’t seen him in person. She is still behind the safety of her desk, still gulping in mouthfuls of him—that wonderful, spicy aroma that’s making her wetter by the second.
He comes around to her side of the desk so he can look into her eyes, and she thinks she might fall into the silver-grey depths there. Though his pupils are so dilated that they’re growing darker. “I’m a free man because of you. I’m a better man because of you.”
His hand comes up to caress her cheek and if she had any more thought to deny her biological imperative to shag this man, it’s gone now. Truth be told, she had always found him attractive, much to her own chagrin. Now it is nearly unbearable. The pheromones are crowding her brain, but she still manages to start a sentence. “How can you want me when I’m a mu—”
She doesn’t get to finish, though, as his mouth suddenly crashes into hers. And Merlin , it’s amazing. He tastes every bit as good as he smells, his tongue quickly seeking entrance into her mouth. She opens for him and it’s everything—his tongue like velvet against her own as he invades all her senses. He leaves her lips to trail kisses down her neck, licking over her sensitive gland until she’s positively squirming. “Let’s get a couple things straight,” he growls against her ear. “One: I don’t give a fuck about blood purity anymore. It was a stupid ideology my parents taught me, and I’ve worked very hard to distance myself from that. Two: I have always fancied you—probably since you struck me third year. Why do you think I was so awful to you? It just makes sense that you would be my—” he stops himself before he can say more.
Hermione is already too far gone. He can do anything he wants now, but it seems like he was still talking… “Was there another thing?”
He takes a deep breath and looks into her eyes. His hand is braced on the wall and he leans his forehead against hers. “Yeah, three: I will take such a good care of you, Omega. Will you let me see you through this heat?”
Another gulp as she forces herself to meet his eyes. The laws are built around protecting alphas, not omegas, but he’s waiting for her permission. He needs to know she wants him, too. She nods, and just in case it isn’t clear. “Yes. Let’s get out of here.”
They practically run through the hallway, into the lift, and back to the atrium. It’s hard to even see the people who might be watching with something akin to shock. Hermione really doesn’t care at this point. No sooner have they set foot on the tiled floor, than Draco apparates them back to his place. It’s nice . Much bigger than her place, but certainly a downgrade from the impressive Malfoy Manor. She understands why he wouldn’t want to live there anymore.
“Is this okay? Will you be comfortable here, or should I take you to your flat?” He looks so concerned, so attuned to her needs. Is this really the same Malfoy?
She uses the last few reasonable brain cells she has left to mutter, “Crookshanks, my cat.”
“Right.”
They’re in her flat nearly as soon as she gives him the address, and she feels a bit woozy from the combination of her heat starting, plus the back to back apparition. She stumbles a bit and he catches her, flinging her up into his arms like a rag-doll. It’s so comforting, to be taken care of like this. She melts into him, her fingers brushing his gland on her way to his hair. She thrills at the way he sucks in a breath when she gently scrapes his scalp. “Is this real?”
He gives her a funny look as he carries her into her bedroom and lays her gently down. “Of course it’s real, Granger. You think this is a fever dream?”
She shrugs, the daze of lust increasingly harder to fight through. It would be easier to think once he’s made her come. “Need you, now.” Her legs shift apart on the bed, hopefully giving him a view of her soaked knickers.
He growls and pounces on her. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
Draco starts trailing kisses up her inner thigh, and she groans, her hand coming up to drape across her eyes. “No, no. I don’t want you to take your time. I need you to fuck me.” She cringes at the sound of her own voice, it sounds so needy. Any moment now, she’s sure he’ll change his mind.
He stills, the edge of his tongue resting on her skin for a moment before retreating. “I’ve thought about this for far too long, even before I presented. You want me to just get it over with?”
“No, you bloody idiot. I need your knot. You’re going to be fucking me for the next three days so we can do whatever you want later, just—”
Her words are cut off as he yanks her knickers down and plunges two fingers into her heat. “Oh fucking hell, you’re drenched.”
“Told… you,” she pants as he pumps harder, his thumb circling her clit. She wants more, needs it even, but he feels too good to argue with at the moment so she rides out the sensations. That familiar coil begins to tighten, itching for release.
“How are you so tight?” He mumbles something unintelligible next, followed by, “I can’t wait to be inside you.”
She wishes he would’ve just gone straight to that, but maybe he considered this being the gentlemanly thing to do first. A few more pumps of his fingers and she’s writhing beneath him, moaning as her orgasm crashes over her. Yes, much better .
“Happy?” he asks, a smirk on his face.
“Almost,” she purrs.
“Mmm, thought so. Roll over, Granger. I need you on all fours.”
She casts a speculative glance in his direction, even as she does what he’s asked.
“Look, it’ll just be better if we do it this way first. Like you said, there’s plenty of time later.” He smacks her bare arse once her dress is up past her waist. Then he leans over her and whispers, “I plan on fucking you in every position imaginable on every surface in this flat.”
“Unhhh,” is all she manages to say as she hears his zipper and then feels his head poking at her entrance. He is… larger than she was expecting. But she is still so wet, and he pushes in easily.
“Fuck,” he says before he starts grinding steadily into her.
Hermione has never been so full. She’s only been with that one other alpha, and he was nowhere near as big as Draco. Didn’t smell half as good. Didn’t fit so well inside her. He’s murmuring sweet nothings into her ear as he increases his pace. She moves her knee just a tick and— there , right there. He hits her over and over again, and she loses it. “Draco!” she screams as she comes, hard, clenching around him violently.
“For the love of—you’re so perfect,” he murmurs, pulling her hair back to lick her gland. His thrusts become erratic, and he’s nearly there. She can feel the swell of his knot bumping her without catching. He comes with a grunt and locks inside her, where she can feel him filling her with his hot seed. Even the little pulses feel pleasurable.
With ridiculous ease, he moves them into a more comfortable position, still joined, with her against his chest. They are still clothed for the most part, and she realizes she hasn’t even seen his penis yet, though it is currently inside of her. “Better now?” he croons, pulling the collar of her dress aside to kiss her shoulder.
“Yes, thank you.” Why did she say that? Such a weird thing to say to someone who just gave you the best fuck of your life.
He chuckles. “You’re welcome, I suppose. Merlin...can’t wait to do that again.”
“Me too,” she mumbles as she falls asleep.
When Hermione awakes, she is still in Draco’s arms, but he has pulled out of her and straightened her dress back down. He nuzzles the back of her head with his nose and she catches Crookshanks watching them warily from a chair in the corner of her room. She thinks this is his disappointed face, and she doesn’t blame him. I know, it’s weird . She gives a little shrug. Then he meows and saunters off toward the kitchen.
Trying and failing several times to extricate herself from Draco’s vise-like grip, she lets out an irritated huff. He drags her closer and whispers in her ear, “Where do you think you’re going, Omega?”
He just had to use that word. She feels the slick starting to seep out again at the sound of his voice and his breath on the shell of her ear. “I need to feed my cat.”
The word ‘need’ is almost like a trigger word with alphas, sending them into protect and nurture mode. “Want me to do it?” he asks, releasing her enough so she can turn over and look at his face. He looks different somehow—like he’s hers. The thought is scary, but she finds it isn’t unappealing.
“It will be faster if I do it. Then you can shag me as many times as you’d like.”
He growls and pulls her face in for a quick kiss before letting her up from the bed. “I plan to take you up on that.”
She’s watching Crookshanks devour his breakfast, sipping a cup of tea when a pair of strong arms wrap around her stomach. “Tea?” she asks, having already poured him some.
“I’m supposed to be taking care of you ,” he breathes against her hairline, planting a kiss there.
“Sorry, habit.” She’s so used to going through her heats alone, that it is an almost uncomfortable pleasantness, having someone else here. She had changed out of her clothes from the previous day, throwing on only a sweater to come to the kitchen. Suddenly, she feels Draco’s hands wandering up her thighs. She moans, setting her mug on the counter before spreading her legs for him.
“Granger, you’re ready to go again, aren’t you?” His fingers have found her already dripping folds, starting to circle her sensitive bud.
“Yes, Alpha.” She barely has time to turn around before he’s lifted her up onto the counter, spreading her wide and kneeling before her.
“I’ve been thinking about this all morning,” he says before he bring his mouth to her apex, licking a long stroke up through her folds, circling around her clit.
“Oh god.” Her fingers tangle in his hair, and it drives him on, his tongue exploring every inch of her sex. She whines when he thrusts his fingers inside her, the heat of his tongue never straying far from her bundle of nerves. Hermione feels the pressure building inside and clamps her hand over her mouth to avoid screaming when she comes all over his face.
He leans back for a moment, wearing a smug grin before he wipes his chin and rises up to kiss her again. The taste of her on his tongue is something new—it makes her feel sexy, wanted. “Good morning,” he says when he releases her lips.
“Indeed,” she responds.
They wind up not being able to make it all the way back to the bedroom, and he fucks her deep into the couch cushions. As her arse grinds into the rough fibers, she contemplates buying a new couch—then again, how often does she plan on this happening in the future? Every heat , her brain supplies. Then, my Alpha. My Alpha . “My Alpha!” the last one she inadvertently screams aloud and Draco smirks as he increases his pace.
Afterwards, they lay there, sweaty and heaving as he steadily pulses inside her. He’s still on top of her as there wasn’t a lot of room for him to roll off. Besides, she likes the weight. He’s big, strong, and comforting. The last word is not one she ever thought she would apply to Draco Malfoy, but life is rather funny that way.
“You know, you’re not supposed to think so much while I fuck you.” He’s licking her gland again, and the thought flits through her mind that she would really like him to bite it.
“Sorry, can’t help it.” She really is sorry; her alpha is not pleased.
“You think so much with your other alphas, Granger?” He kisses along her jaw and starts to nibble her ear.
“Only one...m-my first heat.” It’s much harder to think with his mouth doing wicked things to the spot just under her earlobe. “I don’t remember much of it.”
He stops. “What about your heats since then? You let that beta Weasley take care of you?”
“No, we broke up soon after I presented. It just…didn’t feel right.”
Draco grabs her chin and turns her to face him. “So what have you been doing? Do you mean to tell me you’ve been going through your heats alone?”
“Yes.” She feels like she might cry for upsetting him. My Alpha .
His head falls to her shoulder as he sighs. “Hermione,” he whispers, giving her gland another swift lick. “Never again, okay? Not while I’m around.”
“Okay,” she agrees. She doesn’t bother to obsess about how permanent he’s made it sound.
True to his word, he’s taken her on almost every surface in her flat. Over the kitchen table, up against the wall, on the area rug in front of the fireplace. They have not been back to her bed. They finally break to eat, at his insistence, ordering Chinese takeaway so no time is wasted cooking. Hermione is back in her soft sweater—and only that—letting Draco feed her dumplings, when she realizes he hasn’t taken off his shirt this whole time, not even rolling up the sleeves. Instead of focusing on that, though, she opts for conversation as her head is finally clear enough to talk.
“So… you’ve always fancied me?” she asks.
He pops a bite into his mouth and licks his long fingers enticingly. She thinks about licking them herself. Later . “Ah, I was wondering when that would come back to bite me.”
“But you were being honest?”
He levels her with a gaze so intense, she can feel her arousal begin again. “Yes, Granger.” He reaches across the table for her hand. “It’s always been you. I used to beat myself up about it, thinking I was a disappointment to my father. That’s why I was such a—”
“Prat?” she offers.
“I was thinking something worse, but let’s go with that.” His grin is a bit cheeky before he turns serious. “And then the war happened. Suddenly, none of it mattered anymore. I never wanted to be on his side, you know… it just—”
She slides her fingers past his hand, to the gland on his wrist, rubbing soothing circles there. “I know, Draco. You’ve more than made amends.”
“But that’s just it, isn’t it? I can never truly atone for what I’ve done. I carry it with me everywhere.”
It’s evident in his eyes, that he believes this. Like a fog lifting, she also realizes why he’s left his shirt on this whole time. She stands, ambles towards him, places her hands in front of him palms up in supplication. He obliges by placing his hands atop her own, and she yanks him to his feet, surprising them both by her strength.
“Careful, Granger.”
“Why, are you delicate?” she teases as she leads him to the bedroom.
“Maybe…”
Hermione pushes him down onto the bed, straddling him as she unbuttons his shirt. If he was going to object to any of it, now was the time. But he lets her. She finishes and shoves the fabric off his shoulders, helping him shrug out of it. “You have nothing to be ashamed about,” she whispers as she places a kiss over his sectumsempra scar—the one Harry gave him sixth year.
She kisses across his chest, warmer than she imagined it would be, and delights at the way his nipples pebble under her tongue. He moans, and she smiles before kissing down his bicep to his forearm. He tries to yank his arm away. “Don’t,” he breathes.
“It doesn’t bother me.” Her eyes are wide, honest.
“It should . It bothers me. It’s faded, but it will never really go away.” The dark mark does look quite faded, but the pain is sharp in Draco’s eyes. He clearly didn’t want her to have to see it.
“Neither will this,” she answers, rolling up her sleeve to show him the scar his aunt left. “Our marks don’t define us, Draco. Our actions do.” She pulls his arm back and kisses right over the faded skull. Then she licks his wrist gland.
This stirs something deep inside him, because the animal comes back to the surface, brimming with white-hot passion. “I knew you were perfect,” he says before pulling the sweater up and over her head. He flips her over and shucks off his pants quickly before settling between her thighs. Then he is kissing her all over. She can barely keep track of the skin he hasn’t touched with his mouth. He starts with her scar, easy reciprocation. Her shoulder, her neck, gland, mouth, all in quick succession.
His hands travel the expanse of her tanned torso, mapping all the curves like he hasn’t already memorized them. They travel up her breasts, thumbing her nipples into hard peaks, before traveling down her arms and meeting her hands, threading their fingers together as he brings them up over her head. Their hands are joined, and he brings his lips down to hers as he thrusts inside in one quick stroke. She gasps into his mouth.
This whole time it’s been nothing but fire and frenzy, but suddenly they are taking their time. He moves slow and sweet, each push into her molten core agonizingly slow as he rolls his hips. It isn’t fucking. It’s making love. Draco Malfoy is making love to her, and she is relishing it. She imagines them this way together for all the rest of her heats, and it just feels right. He finally releases her hands, and she brings hers down to his tight arse, squeezing to drive him deeper and deeper. Her moans form a staccato rhythm off the walls as she nears her release.
Feeling her close, he picks up the pace until she is crying out, spasming around him. He keeps pounding into her though, steadily building up again and she finds the strength to speak. “Bite me, Draco.”
He stills momentarily. “What?”
“Mark me, make me yours.” Hermione hears herself saying the words, and though she didn’t plan them, she is serious.
“You don’t know what you’re asking, Hermione.” His knot is swelling and she can feel it as he starts thrusting again.
“I do—ah, I want you to,” she stammers as he’s starting to catch on her entrance. “Please. You’re my mate. I know it’s you.”
His hands slide up her neck, skimming over her gland on their way to tangle in her hair. He tilts her head back as he moves, kissing the dip above her collarbone. He grunts as his knot catches and he comes, locked inside her. “Hermione, I love you. But this is forever… if you’re not sure—”
She pulls his face closer, so she can look in his eyes. “I am sure.” He has been so kind and caring this whole heat, peeling back the layers of him she thought she knew. Everything inside her is screaming for him to complete this.
The words have barely left her mouth when she feels his tongue sweeping over her gland, preparing. Then he sinks his teeth in and the feeling shooting through her is white-hot. Pleasure. Pain. Like a volcano erupting as the same time an earthquake hits. She comes hard, her heat clamping down on him as he continues to fill her. It’s so intense she nearly blacks out. When the fog clears, he’s licking over the mark he’s made, sealing it. She smiles.
His voice is low when he says, “It’s done. You’re mine .”
Draco is expecting her to be mad after her heat. She can sense it on him now as they lay entwined. Since he’s marked her, she feels more connected to him—like she can feel his emotions almost. He is worried that she’ll be upset he took advantage. He’s scared that she’ll have changed her mind.
“You’re thinking too loudly,” she tells him.
“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have bitten you. But you were practically begging me, and I couldn’t resist.”
Hermione surprises him by rolling them over and pinning him. “I asked you to because I wanted it. You’re mine , Draco. Don’t think you can get out of it.”
They make love again, and she returns the favor by biting his gland. It’s not something that’s usually done. Alphas make claiming marks, not omegas. But Hermione has a long streak of breaking with tradition. And claiming marks are just like scars—they never truly fade.