If You Send for Me

by Anonymous

Summary:

He’d sent her the message via owl. Hermione understood why when she slipped the piece of parchment out of its envelope and read it.

Hermione,

If you send for me, you know I'll come.

Harry

He was giving her time to consider his offer. There was less of a sense of urgency in responding to his owl than what she would have felt if he'd texted instead. And she was grateful to him for thinking of it.

✨

Or Harry and Hermione's friendship is tested when she presents as an omega, and he just so happens to be an alpha.

Chapter 1

Prologue

Harry was on patrol when Hermione first came across the passage, tucked inside a text on Wizarding history.

She wouldn't have expected to learn of such an important aspect of Wizarding biology from a history book, but perhaps she shouldn't be surprised. Wizarding society was archaically close-lipped regarding anything related to reproductive health.

Her eyes were glued to the page and her face was flushed with warmth when the door to the tent opened and Harry stepped in.

"Everything looks good," he told her. "No signs of anything worrisome."

Hermione lifted her eyes from the book and nodded at him.

Harry paused, eyeing her curiously. "Are you ok? You look a little…flustered."

"Oh, yes, I'm fine," she squeaked, her voice sounding high-pitched even to her own ears.

She cleared her throat. "Just, er, reading."

Harry gave her a suspicious look. "What are you reading?"

Hermione swallowed. "Just a history book."

"Oh," he said. "Is there something in there about the horcruxes?"

"No, I don't think so," she replied. "I haven't seen anything like that yet."

"What kind of history is it about?" he asked next. Hermione stifled a frustrated sigh; she'd hoped he would move on and let her continue reading in peace.

"It's about a skirmish that occurred between a couple of Wizarding clans a few centuries ago," she said vaguely.

"Hmm, that sounds kind of interesting," he said, coming to sit in the chair next to her. "What were they fighting over?"

If they had been anywhere but this dreary, cold, and boring tent, Hermione had no doubt that Harry would have tuned her out as soon as she mentioned she was reading a history book. And if Ron hadn't abandoned them a couple of months prior, he probably would have sought out his company instead of sitting to talk about history with her. But the lack of any other meaningful stimulation in the tent was probably what prompted him to take an interest in what had drawn her attention.

"They were fighting over a woman," she answered.

Harry smirked. "What, like Helen of Troy? Maybe that myth is based on real Wizarding events then."

Hermione shrugged. "It's possible."

"And what happened? With the woman?"

"She, er, bonded with one of the chiefs from a clan, and that ended the whole thing."

Harry's brows raised. "What's that mean? How did she bond with him? Like physically or magically?"

"Technically both."

Hermione saw genuine interest creep into Harry's eyes.

"So they performed some kind of magical ritual?"

Hermione snorted, the sound escaping her before she could stop it. "In a manner of speaking."

"Ok, now I really want to see what it says in there," said Harry with an amused grin.

Hermione set the book down on her lap. "Have you heard about Wizarding designations before?"

Harry blinked. "What?"

"Yes, it's new to me as well. I think it's a bit of an…indecent topic in Wizarding society."

Harry nodded. "Ok, what does it mean then?"

"Well, apparently wizards and witches reach a second type of puberty in their late twenties. Which sounds late to us, of course, but it's understandable considering the fact that the Wizarding lifespan is longer than that of regular humans."

"Right, ok. And what happens in this second puberty?"

"Well, people develop in different ways. The vast majority develop into betas, which don't really go through too many biological changes. Another subset become alphas. And a very small percentage present as omegas."

Harry stared at her with a bewildered expression. "What does all that mean?"

"So…the alphas and the omegas are very strongly drawn to each other. Physically."

She could see Harry's internal battle playing out via the expressions on his face. His eyes widened with realization first, followed by a slightly embarrassed averted gaze, and ending with a look of shameful curiosity.

"Like they're drawn to each other…" he paused to clear his throat. "Sexually."

Hermione nodded, looking down at the book on her lap. "Right, yes. Very drawn to each other. To the point where these two clans in question went to battle against one other because their alpha chiefs both wanted the same omega."

A look of disgust came over Harry's face. "And they weren't willing to just let her choose the alpha she wanted?"

"Women didn't have many rights back then," she reminded him. "But also, omegas tend to get caught up in what are called 'heats' and it can make it difficult to determine how much of their choice is related to biology versus what they truly want."

"Sounds pretty fucked up," commented Harry.

Hermione smiled. "Yes, I thought so too. Thankfully it's a very small percentage of people that present as omegas, so I don't think it's something we have to worry about."

"Oh, that's good."

"Yes, it is."

They sat in awkward silence for a moment. They had never really discussed sex in any meaningful way throughout their friendship. Hermione imagined he probably had conversations like that with Ron, rather than with her.

But she knew they had both thought about it recently. It had only been a few days prior that she'd awoken with Harry wrapped around her in the bed they'd begun sharing to help keep them warm at night. When she'd shifted, she'd felt him hard against her, and he'd sworn softly and apologized.

"It's alright," she'd assured him. "I know that just happens in the mornings for no reason. We can just forget about it."

He'd been careful not to hold her too snugly after that, and Hermione had felt vaguely disappointed by it.

She stood now, saying, "I'm, er, going to see if I can scavenge some mushrooms to add to our lunch. I'll be back shortly."

Harry nodded. "Ok, be careful."

She smiled. "I will."

When she returned an hour later, Harry helped her create a meal out of the mushrooms she'd found and the meager rations they had left.

Neither spoke of their earlier conversation, but Hermione couldn't help but notice that the history book she'd been reading was in a different spot than where she'd left it.

Notes:

So, this plot bunny came to me as I was listening to the chorus of a certain song (ten points to your house if you happen to know which one it is).

I’m posting anonymously because I’m cheating on my other WIPS right now with this persistent plot bunny, but I might un-anonymize at the end. Haven’t decided yet. We’ll see.

Chapter 2

Ten Years Later

It started with the mildest fever, although Hermione didn't realize her internal body temperature had risen at first. She associated fevers with sickness, usually accompanied by some type of physical discomfort, fatigue, or a general feeling of malaise.

And she wasn't experiencing anything like that. On the contrary, Hermione awoke that day with more energy than usual, albeit the kind of restless energy she sometimes felt when she consumed too many cups of tea in quick succession. She felt warmer than usual, yes, but she imagined it to be a side effect of the extra pep in her step she'd mysteriously acquired.

Hermione brushed it off as nervous energy and went about her morning routine, downing a cup of tea and a piece of toast with jam before taking the Floo to her job at the Department of International Magical Cooperation.

She'd settled into her desk and begun preparing her notes for a meeting later that day, when Padma arrived, greeting her with a nod before settling into the desk next to Hermione's.

"You look a bit flushed today," said Padma. "Are you feeling ok?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I'm just running a little warm for some reason. It's probably nervous energy. Kingsley asked me to facilitate that meeting with the French Minister of Magic today, and I really want to do well."

Padma rolled her eyes. "You always do well."

Hermione shrugged. "I need to do better if I want to be considered for the assistant role that just opened up for Kingsley."

Padma smirked. "I'm sure you're a shoo-in for that already. No one else has come close to the number of special projects you've successfully completed, not to mention the diplomatic situations you've helped Kingsley with."

"Maybe," said Hermione. "But McLaggen wants the job too and he has connections that I don't."

Padma didn't refute her claim. They both knew it was true.

"Kingsley wouldn't prefer him over you though," she said.

"No, that's true, but he might be pressured to take him on by others."

Padma nodded, giving her an understanding look. "Well, I hope you get it. The last thing the world needs is for Cormac McLaggen to become the next Minister of Magic."

Hermione shuddered. "There's a terrifying thought. Well, even if he does somehow get the role, there's no guarantee he'll advance further than that. Hopefully his political career would just fizzle out there."

"Whose downfall are we rooting for here?" came a familiar masculine voice behind her. Hermione turned in the direction of the voice and smiled upon seeing who it was.

"Michael," she said. "You didn't tell me you'd be stopping by today."

"Thought I'd surprise you," he said with a smile. He cast a glance around the office and pulled an empty chair from one of the vacant desks over, setting it between her desk and Padma's and dropping his lanky frame into it.

"Are things slow over at the sports department?" she teased.

Michael gave her a wry look. "Not all of us can save the world, you know. Some of us work to make it a better place in other ways. But yes, things are a bit slow at the DMGS today."

"Well, they're not slow here," said Padma. "Hermione's preparing to facilitate a meeting for the French Minister of Magic today."

"Oh," said Michael. "Is that today? It slipped my mind. Well, I'll just head back to my own corner and let you get ready then. Any chance you're free for dinner tonight? Maybe that little Italian restaurant we like?"

Hermione's face scrunched up into an apologetic expression. "You know I'd usually love that, but I've already made plans with Ron and Harry for tonight. It's been a little while since the three of us caught up."

A flicker of irritation flashed across Michael's face, but he cleared it quickly, smiling tightly as he said, "No, of course, you should spend some time with your friends. Maybe another night then?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, definitely."

He dropped a chaste kiss on her cheek before returning the chair he'd borrowed to its rightful place and waving good-bye at her and Padma as he walked out.

"So, it looks like he still isn't very happy about you having two male best friends," said Padma drily.

Hermione sighed. "He hasn't said anything directly, but I know he's not thrilled about it."

She shrugged. "He's such a great boyfriend otherwise though. Maybe he just needs more time to get used to it."

Padma gave her an unconvinced look. "If he hasn't gotten used to it in the two years you've been together, I doubt it will change in the future."

"Ugh, I know," said Hermione with another heavy sigh.

It was the only point of contention in their relationship.

Michael was really an ideal boyfriend in so many ways. He was kind, courteous, and always made a good impression when he accompanied her to work functions. Hermione could imagine him being the perfect spouse for a future Minister of Magic—a Minister that also happened to be a Muggleborn witch with unruly brown hair and a tendency to be a bit swotty.

Their relationship wasn't particularly passionate, but that wasn't a dealbreaker for Hermione. She'd had passion with Ron once upon a time, and that had blown up in spectacular fashion. It was a miracle they'd managed to piece their friendship back together in the aftermath.

What she had with Michael was…good. They complemented each other well, and he was rather handsome to boot. She could smooth out the issue with her friends over time.

"Well, I'll deal with it later," Hermione told Padma. "I'm just going to make sure I'm ready for this meeting now."

Padma nodded and offered to get them both a cup of tea, which Hermione graciously accepted before diving back into the notes for her meeting, with a singular focus that made the rest of the world fade into the background.

~

Harry had chosen the place for their gathering that evening, and he'd selected an upscale new wine bar in Diagon alley with a darkened interior and plenty of spots that wouldn't be visible to any paparazzi outside the location.

"Excellent choice, Harry," said Hermione, upon joining him and Ron at the small table they'd managed to snag in a tucked away corner of the place. They'd both arrived before her, but they stood to greet her when they saw her approach.

She gave Ron a quick hug and went to do the same with Harry.

"I could swear you've grown somehow since the last time I saw you," she said with a laugh as she embraced him. It wasn't really said in jest; Harry looked a little taller, and his shoulders felt slightly broader.

She expected him to laugh with her and maybe explain it away with something simple, like a new gym routine or better posture. But when she pulled back, Harry looked awkward instead, as though she had mentioned something inappropriate.

"Er, yeah, maybe," he mumbled, settling back into his seat and picking up the wine list, perusing it quietly.

Hermione shot a questioning look at Ron, who shrugged, letting her know he had no idea what that had been about either.

They'd just finished placing the order for their wines, when Ron dropped some momentous news.

"I've decided I'm going to ask Luna to marry me."

Hermione nearly shrieked, but remembered where she was and just let out a tiny squeal instead.

"What? When? How? Where?"

Ron laughed. "I'm still figuring out all of that. But it will be someplace she's fond of obviously, and sometime in the next few months."

Hermione was sorely tempted to jump up and give him another hug, but she resisted, having already drawn an appalled look from the patrons sitting at the next table when they'd heard her squeal.

"That's wonderful, Ron," she said instead. "I'm really happy for you."

"Yeah, mate," joined in Harry. "Congratulations."

"Thanks," said Ron with a grin. "I'll fill you in on the details once I figure them out."

"How's Michael doing?" he asked Hermione.

"Oh, he's good, thanks," she answered. "Still loving his job, of course."

"Who wouldn't?" asked Ron. "That's the only department at the Ministry that I considered joining after school."

"How are things going for you, Harry?" asked Hermione a moment later. Her words were just the slightest bit hesitant. It would have been a loaded question a few months earlier. He and Ginny had broken up nearly six months prior, and he had only recently begun to seem like his regular self again.

Harry paused for a second before answering, and Hermione wondered whether he'd been struggling again, but was hesitant to share that.

"I'm good," he replied. "I've just been…thinking a lot lately."

That didn't sound so bad. Hermione suppressed a sigh of relief.

"About what?" she asked.

Harry's answer was momentarily delayed as a waiter brought their wines to the table for them.

"I've just been going through some changes lately," said Harry. "And I've been rethinking some of the choices I made when I was younger."

Ron's eyebrows rose. "Like what?"

Harry sighed. "Like being an auror. I don't know if I want to keep doing that forever."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look. "You've done more than your part to make the Wizarding world safer, Harry. If it isn't what you want anymore, you should explore other options. You deserve to be happy."

He smiled at her. "Thanks. I might actually pick your brain about a couple of options."

Hermione sipped her wine. "I'd love to help. What are you thinking of?"

"I've thought of everything from professor to the Department of Mysteries," said Harry ruefully. "I guess I'm still a bit aimless."

"We'll figure it out," she said reassuringly. "We can meet up sometime soon to write out a nice pros and cons list."

Harry laughed. "Only you would light up at that prospect."

She grinned and took another sip of her wine.

"How's your job going?" he asked.

Hermione beamed. "Quite well. I essentially led a meeting for Kingsley with the French Minister of Magic and his team. It went very well, and Kingsley might have hinted that I show the kind of leadership skills he's looking for in his next assistant."

"Hermione, that's brilliant," said Ron. "One step closer to your dream, for sure."

She shrugged. "I mean, it's still too early to tell. McLaggen wants it as well, so there's that."

"That prat has nothing on you," said Ron.

"Well, besides family connections," replied Hermione grimly.

"You have connections too," Harry reminded her. "I might not be part of a Wizarding dynasty, but I'm willing to use whatever clout I still have to help you. Not to mention the fact that you're a war heroine in your own right."

Hermione gave him a fond smile. "Thanks, Harry. I really appreciate that."

Shortly after finishing her second glass of wine, Hermione began to feel uncomfortable. A dizzying wave of warmth washed over her, and she unbuttoned the top buttons of her blouse in an effort to cool off.

"Are you alright?" asked Ron with a look of concern.

"Yes, I'm fine," she answered. "Just a little warm."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a hair clip, gathering her curls up in a makeshift bun and securing it in place with the clip.

"Any better?" asked Harry, his brows furrowed as he stared at her.

"I…might need a bit of fresh air," she breathed. "I just need to cool off a little."

Harry stood. "Hold on, there's a back door to the restaurant that leads to an empty alleyway. I'll just speak to the manager to let him know we'll need to slip out for a moment."

Hermione waited patiently at the table for his return, fanning her face as discreetly as she could to help cool her flushed skin.

"Come on," he said a minute later, reaching gently for her arm to help her up.

"We'll be back in a minute," he told Ron, who nodded in acknowledgment.

The cool air that greeted them as they stepped out into the alleyway felt delicious on her overheated skin. Hermione inhaled deeply, enjoying how clean and cold the air felt as it filled her lungs.

"Better now?" asked Harry, watching her closely.

"Yes, sorry," she said. "I don't know what came over me. I've been running on adrenaline lately with the whole job thing. Maybe that's affecting me physically too."

Harry frowned. "I understand your ambition, Hermione. Truly I do. But don't neglect your health because of it. Maybe you should get checked out at St. Mungo's, just to make sure there isn't anything else going on."

Hermione leaned back against the cold brick of a wall. "Oh, I don't think that's necessary. It isn't so bad."

Seeing the persistent look of worry on Harry's face, she relented.

"Alright, if it continues, or I feel any other odd symptoms, I promise I'll get checked out.”

"Ok, good," said Harry, seeming satisfied.

"We should probably get back," she said. "Poor Ron's sitting at that table all alone now."

"We don't have to stay longer if you aren't feeling well," said Harry. "Maybe it's best if you go home and get some rest."

Hermione frowned. "I feel bad cutting the night short. It's been a little while since the three of us met up."

"We'll do it again soon," Harry assured her.

Hermione didn't resist any further. The wine bar suddenly seemed small and stuffy to her, and she wasn't relishing the idea of returning there in her current state.

As though reading her mind, Harry said, "Tell you what, stay here. I'll go take care of the bill with Ron, get your things, and I'll come back to take you home."

"I can take myself home, Harry," she said with an embarrassed smile. "I didn't drink that much."

"But you're not feeling well, and I don't want you splinching yourself on my watch," countered Harry.

Hermione almost said no, but the memory of how disorienting that wave of warmth had felt came back to her. If it happened as she apparated, she very well might splinch herself in the process.

"Alright," she said meekly. "I'll wait here."

"Good," said Harry, and disappeared through the back door they'd used to access the alleyway.

Hermione kept taking deep, cleansing breaths as she waited, amazed that the chill winter air wasn't making her shiver in the light blouse and trousers she was wearing. She'd left her jacket inside with her bag, but she felt no need for it.

Harry reappeared a few minutes later, holding her jacket and bag as he'd promised.

"Hold on to me," he said. "I'll apparate us to your flat."

Harry and Ron were the only two people that could apparate directly into her flat. Michael had dropped heavy hints that he would like to be granted access to her wards, but she had put it off, feeling that they weren't quite at that spot in their relationship yet. She had thankfully kept mum about the fact that Ron and Harry had access; if Michael happened to learn of that fact, Hermione was sure the fallout would be disastrous for their relationship.

Hermione opened the windows to her flat as soon as they rematerialized in her living room. The cold air flowed in, quickly dropping the temperature of the room.

"Thanks Harry," she said. "I appreciate everything you did for me tonight."

"It's no problem, Hermione," he said, but he didn't leave immediately, eyeing her again with concern.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked. "Do you need me to stay a while longer?"

"No, I'm fine, really. I probably just need some rest like you said."

Harry nodded. "Ok, just text or call if you need anything."

"I will."

She stepped forward and gave him a hug, saying, "You're a good friend, Harry."

And then a strange thing happened. Harry…sniffed her; she heard the sound of him inhaling deeply through his nose as they embraced, his face mere inches from her neck.

Hermione froze. She felt Harry stiffen and quickly pull away. He had the oddest look on his face, like he'd just had an uncomfortable realization.

"Do I smell?" she joked lightheartedly, trying to play off the awkward moment. "Sorry, I've been running around all day."

"No," he said, the word coming out stiff and uncertain. "It's, er, nothing. You don't—I mean, it's not bad. I, er, I should go."

"Alright," she replied, slightly mortified that perhaps she did smell bad and he was trying to spare her feelings. "Good night then."

Harry nodded, smiling, but with a mild look of apprehension in his eyes. "Yeah, good night."

He apparated away then, leaving her standing slightly bewildered in her chilly living room.

Chapter 3

Hermione took a dose of dreamless sleep after Harry left her flat that evening. She was feeling too wired and warm to sleep well otherwise, and she still suspected that her symptoms were at least partially attributable to overwork. A good night's sleep would probably help calm her overstimulated body.

The potion worked, and she awoke the following morning feeling more level-headed, although her body temperature continued to feel higher than usual. She dressed in a light, summery blouse with short cap sleeves. It was an odd choice for this time of year, but the breathable silky material felt nice and cool against her skin.

Her workload for the day was scheduled to be based primarily around paperwork, and she was expecting a peaceful, if somewhat boring, workday.

These expectations were upended by the arrival of two separate visitors to her and Padma's section of the office that morning. The first was an unwelcome one.

"Heard your meeting with the delegation from the French Ministry of Magic went well yesterday, Granger," was Cormac McLaggen's greeting as he sauntered up to her desk, his face looking just as arrogant as ever.

"Yes," said Hermione, and continued reading a briefing in front of her. She no intention of engaging with his little mind games this morning.

He perched himself on the edge of her desk, staring intently at her until she looked up with a sigh.

"Do you need something?" she asked.

"I also heard you applied to be Shacklebolt's assistant."

"Ok."

She heard Padma snicker at her desk, clearly amused by Hermione's stonewalling of McLaggen.

McLaggen narrowed his eyes at her. "I've put in for that position as well."

"Alright."

"Look," he said. "Obviously only one of us will get the role. It will be much better for both of us if we don't compete for it."

"I agree," said Hermione. "Are you thinking of dropping out of the running then?"

McLaggen glared at her. "Of course not. I'm perfect for the job. But perhaps you could save us all a little time and remove your name from consideration. There's a great position that just opened up at the Muggle liaison office, and you would be a natural choice for it."

"Well, thanks for informing me of that," said Hermione. "Was that the entire purpose of your visit? If so, thanks for stopping by."

She returned her attention to the briefing in front of her.

"Does that mean you're going to go for it?"

"No. We both know the assistant position is the best track for Minister of Magic."

An angry edge crept into McLaggen's voice. "You're being unreasonable, Granger. You can't really expect that you'll become Minister of Magic one day."

That got her attention.

"And why not?" she snapped. "Is there something that would prevent me from becoming Minister?"

McLaggen seemed to reconsider his approach, because his expression shifted into a look that Hermione assumed was meant to convey sympathy.

"It's unlikely that you would be able to win an election, Granger," he said, in the soothing tone one might use to explain something to a child. "But you can still rise up the ranks and do great things in a department like the Muggle liaison office."

"Thank you so much for your concern, McLaggen," she said evenly. "If that's all, please feel free to run along now."

The feigned look of caring slipped from his face, replaced by a disdainful expression as he rose from her desk.

"Fine, have it your way. May the best man win then," he said as he walked away.

"What an arsehole," said Padma when he'd disappeared from view.

Hermione sighed. "He's right that he would probably have an easier time getting elected than I would. Wizarding society is still very old-fashioned in a lot of ways. It won't be an easy task to convince them to vote for a candidate that is both Muggleborn and a woman, but I'm still going to try."

"As you should," encouraged Padma. "I'll volunteer for your campaign when the time comes."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks Padma. I appreciate it."

Their second visitor was thankfully a much better one.

"Hey," said Harry as he walked up to her desk shortly before lunch.

"Harry," she said, surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Harry said a quick hello to Padma before answering her question. "I came to check on you…after everything last night."

A mild sense of embarrassment washed over Hermione as she recalled their final moments together the evening before. She'd even applied a little perfume this morning, wondering whether her recent work stress had altered her body chemistry in a way that made her smell off-putting.

"Oh, I'm fine," she assured him. "I took some dreamless sleep last night and already feel so much better."

"Oh, good. Yeah, that's good," said Harry with a nod. Then he asked, "Any chance you could join me for lunch today? There's something I really need to talk to you about."

Harry had a look of discomfort on his face as he posed the question, and Hermione wondered whether he needed to discuss something unpleasant with her. Perhaps he couldn't bear to continue with his auror duties any longer and needed to vent, or he might be struggling with loneliness again like he had when he'd first broken up with Ginny. Whatever it was, she wasn't going to leave him alone in his time of need.

"Yes, I can take a little time for lunch today," she replied. "Do you want to meet at the canteen?"

"Er, no," he said. "I think it would be best if we went somewhere…a little more private."

"Like a cafe?"

"More like my flat."

Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Your flat?"

Harry nodded. "I don't have anything elaborate, but I've got some bread and stuff to make sandwiches, if that's ok."

Clearly whatever he needed to talk about required the utmost discretion.

"Yes, of course. That sounds fine. Would half past noon work? I'll meet you there."

"Yes, perfect. I'll see you then."

He turned to say a polite good-bye to Padma before walking away.

"What was all that about?" asked Padma.

"He's had a lot on his mind lately," said Hermione. "I think he just needs someone to talk to about it."

Padma nodded and returned to her work. Hermione tried to do the same, but her mind wouldn't stop running through possible scenarios for what might be bothering Harry.

~

Hermione chose to apparate into Harry's flat, rather than dealing with the lunchtime lines at the Ministry Floos.

Harry was there when she arrived, and he'd already set out slices of bread alongside an assortment of cheeses, meats, and spreads.

"Would you like me to make something for you?" he offered.

Hermione smiled and walked to his cabinet to fetch a plate for herself. "That's alright, thank you. I can help myself."

He nodded and they assembled their sandwiches in silence, both fully focused on the task at hand.

"I think I have some crisps in the cupboard if you want some," he said as she took a seat at his dining room table. He brought over a couple of glasses of water and set them down at the table for them.

"I'm good with this, thanks," she replied, ready to get into whatever topic was so intense as to require this level of privacy.

Harry took the seat across from her…and said nothing for a moment. He simply stared down at his sandwich.

"Harry, it's ok, whatever it is," she told him. "You know you can trust me."

Harry looked up at her, his eyes wide. "Oh, I didn't ask you here to talk about me. Or, well, I guess we will be talking about me, but only as far as it relates to you. Ergh, I'm probably just confusing you more now."

Yes, he was, but Hermione kept quiet, letting him sort out his words, rather than jumping in. Listening without interrupting was a skill she'd been cultivating in the past few years.

Harry swallowed. "Alright, I guess I'll just cut right to it then. That's probably best."

Hermione nodded encouragingly.

"Do you remember that book we read when we were kids? In the tent? It was about Wizarding history, and it talked about…designations?"

It took Hermione a minute to recall what he was referring to. But when the memory came to her she felt herself grow even warmer than she'd already been feeling.

"Yes, that was so weird," she said. "Thinking back, I wonder whether the stuff in that book was more legend than reality."

Harry sighed. "No, it was true. The designation thing is real."

Hermione gave him a quizzical look. "How do you know that?"

"Because I'm an alpha."

A little snort of laughter escaped her. "What?"

A look of obvious embarrassment settled onto Harry's features.

"You know how you mentioned that I seem like I've grown lately?"

"Yes."

"It's because I have. It's what tipped me off that something was different with me. I knew I wasn't supposed to grow any more at this age. I thought that maybe I had some kind of problem with my growth gland."

"Your pituitary gland?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. So I went to see a healer, and they told me everything was fine, but I'm an alpha, and it causes some physical changes in the body."

"When was this?"

Harry shrugged. "About a couple of months ago."

Hermione gave him a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry Harry. That must be difficult—going through a transformation like that. Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me."

She took a bite of her sandwich, prepared to be a good friend and let Harry unload his feelings about having even more changes in his life. After all, that had to be what he wanted to talk about. And she imagined he must be embarrassed about the sexual aspect of the change. It made sense that he would want to discuss this in private.

Truthfully, Hermione was a little surprised he'd chosen her as his confidant for this particular personal information; she would have expected the honor to go to Ron. But she was determined to prove that he'd made the right choice. Her mind was buzzing with questions about what being an alpha was like—so many questions—but she bit them back and chewed her food quietly.

Harry didn't start talking though, at least not in the way she expected. He paused, and his look of embarrassment seemed to deepen, accompanied by a rush of color to his face.

"Right, yeah," he began. "The thing is…I'm sharing this with you for a reason."

He stopped and swallowed before continuing. "And that's because I need you to know something. You're a—an omega Hermione."

It was the last thing she expected him to say. She simply stared at him for a moment, trying to decipher whether he was joking. Harry was known to tease and crack jokes, so that wouldn't be out of character for him, but his expression seemed so serious, and the topic was not the kind of thing she would expect him to play for laughs.

"What?" she said.

Harry sighed and repeated, "You're an omega."

She frowned. "Why are you saying that?"

Harry's awkward expression morphed into something akin to mortification as he replied, "Because it’s true. I can tell."

"How?"

Harry cleared his throat nervously, breaking eye contact with her.

"I,er, can smell it," he muttered.

"You can smell it?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"It's an alpha thing," he answered, gazing down intently at his sandwich. "We can pick up an omega's scent. It's part of the biological change that takes place when we present."

Hermione sat silently for a moment, trying to wrap her mind around everything Harry had said. Harry took a bite of his sandwich, staring down at his plate as he chewed.

"So, you've smelled omegas before?" she asked. "And they smell like me?"

Harry glanced up then, swallowing the bite of food in his mouth before saying slowly, "No, you're the first omega I've come across since I presented."

It became clear to Hermione then. Harry was mistaken. He was struggling with being different once again, and he wanted someone to navigate these changes with him. His mind had decided, probably subconsciously, that if Hermione were also undergoing changes, he would be less alone.

"Oh, Harry," she said. "I highly doubt I'm part of this rare subset of the Wizarding population. I'll admit I've been feeling a little different lately, but it's probably just regular womanly hormone changes. Maybe you just picked up on that, since your sense of smell has sharpened."

Harry let out a frustrated breath and dropped his head into hands, his elbows resting on the table before him.

"No," he said, his eyes closed as he spoke. "It's not that. I'm sure that you're an omega."

"How? If you've never met one before?"

He lifted his head and fixed his gaze on her. "Because your scent last night…it made me feel…things. Things that alphas feel for omegas."

Warmth bloomed in Hermione's cheeks. She understood what he meant. She remembered enough from the Wizarding history book to know how alphas felt about omegas.

"Oh," she breathed.

"Yeah," said Harry, his gaze returning to his sandwich.

"Is it—I mean, can you smell it now?"

"No. I think it's because you were so warm last night, and we were in such close proximity. I don't think you've fully presented yet. But, from what I understand, it'll probably get worse. And I don't want you to be caught unaware. You obviously have nothing to fear from me, but I can't say the same for other alphas out there. They're more common than omegas are. Chances are you'll run into others as well."

Hermione nodded, deciphering the warning in his words. Even with the limited information she knew about omegas, she was well aware that the designation came with a unique set of challenges.

"I'll make a visit to St. Mungo's," she said. "And see what they say."

Harry nodded, seeming relieved. "Ok, good. Maybe there's something they can offer to help with your…symptoms."

"Yes, maybe."

She picked up her sandwich again, needing a distraction as she mulled over the situation. Harry resumed eating as well, although she noticed he was doing so in the same unenthusiastic manner as herself. She wondered whether he was using the rote task as a way of distancing himself slightly from the charged conversation.

"Thank you Harry," she said when she'd eaten as much as she could. Half of her sandwich remained untouched on her plate, her appetite gone. "I appreciate you telling me…even if it is something awkward to talk about."

Harry gave her a smile. "Of course. I never considered not telling you. Honestly, I'm a little worried for you. I want you to know that you can always come to me if anyone tries to…mess with you."

She nodded. "I'm sure I can handle it, but thank you. I appreciate the offer."

"There's no shame in letting me help, Hermione," he said earnestly. "Things might become overwhelming once you've fully presented. I would hate if someone took advantage of you. We've always been there for each other. This is just another version of that."

Hermione could see the concern written on his face. As much as she loathed the idea of needing his help, she knew he was offering from a place of true friendship and care.

"I promise I'll reach out to you if I find myself in over my head," she assented.

Harry nodded, the worry lines in his forehead smoothing out just a little at hearing that.

Notes:

Can’t believe I’m already posting chapter three, but my muse is quite taken with this fic, so I’m just along for the ride at this point.

Chapter 4

Hermione kept her promise to Harry, arriving at St. Mungo's early the next day and requesting to see a healer.

It was a Saturday, which turned out to be both a good thing and a bad thing. On the positive side, there was no need to inform anyone at work that she would be late. Hermione was not keen on having to come up with a reason for her visit to the Wizarding hospital; the truth would obviously not do in this case.

The downside of it being Saturday was the fact that the waiting room was full of other wizards and witches with non-urgent ailments, who had waited until the weekend to seek medical treatment.

The throng of people sitting with her in the waiting room made the place feel that much stuffier and Hermione felt her temperature rising even higher than usual the longer she sat there. Now that she suspected what was causing her body's internal heat wave, the temperature fluctuations distressed her. She kept wondering whether she was giving off some of the omega pheromones Harry had mentioned…and whether there were any alphas present that could smell it.

Despite the suffocating heat she felt, Hermione pulled the collar of her shirt up, hoping to avoid letting any of her scent escape. It was probably a useless tactic, but she needed to do something to handle her anxiety over the matter.

"Ms. Granger," called one of the healer's assistants that had been slowly siphoning off patients from the room over the past hour.

Hermione jumped up from her seat, following the young woman past a maze of corridors until reaching one of the examinations rooms.

"What brings you in today?" asked the assistant, gesturing for Hermione to take a seat at the end of the examination table. The young woman settled into a stool parked in front of a small high-top table. She pulled a sheet of parchment in front of her, and dipped a quill into the pot of ink already sitting on the table.

"I've been having some unusual physical symptoms lately," began Hermione. "Hot spells, nervous energy, that sort of thing. And I have a friend that suspects it's because I'm an…omega."

The woman's quill stilled, and her eyes panned over to Hermione, disbelief written on her face.

"An omega?" she questioned. "What makes your friend think that might be a possibility? It's highly unlikely. Omegas are exceedingly rare."

Hermione sighed. "Yes, I know. I thought the same thing. But he's an alpha—it was confirmed here at St. Mungo's—and he said he could smell it on me."

The woman's eyes widened dramatically before her attention turned back to her parchment and she scribbled down a few lines, the scratching noise of her quill sounding much livelier than it had a moment before.

"Any other symptoms? A stronger sense of smell, perhaps?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, not really."

"How about increased libido?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "I don't think so."

"A desire to rearrange items in your home?"

Hermione frowned in confusion at that one. "No."

The woman's quill resumed a more lethargic pace as she jotted down her final notes, as though Hermione's follow-up answers had chipped away at the excitement caused by her initial statement.

"Alright," said the young woman, standing and taking her parchment with her as she walked to the door. "I'll go fetch the healer. She'll be in momentarily."

Hermione nodded and curled her hands around the edges of the examination table on either side of her, her legs swinging absentmindedly as she waited. A sharp rap sounded on the door a few minutes later, announcing the arrival of the healer. The door swung open, and a woman wearing St. Mungo's signature green robes entered. She appeared to be in her mid-thirties, with sandy brown hair, hazel eyes, and a carefully practiced smile.

"Ms. Granger," she said, walking over to shake Hermione's hand. "I'm Healer Wells. It's very nice to meet you."

She took the seat the assistant had been using earlier. "I hear you suspect that you might be an omega."

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

Healer Wells smiled indulgently. "That's very unlikely to be the case, but we can go ahead and perform the test to alleviate your concerns."

Hermione rankled inwardly at the suggestion that she was making a fuss over nothing, but she bit her tongue, giving her a lukewarm smile in response. "Thank you."

Healer Wells nodded. "I'll just need to take a hair sample to perform the test."

She stood and walked over to a large cabinet filled with drawers of various shapes and sizes that covered nearly the entirety of the one of the examination room's walls.

Hermione watched as she set out a small cauldron and poured a flask of potion into it. The viscous liquid was a pearly white color as it flowed into the cauldron and wispy tendrils of white smoke rose from the vessel afterwards. Healer Wells retrieved a pair of scissors from one of the drawers and approached Hermione, eyeing her hair for a second, before carefully pulling one long strand forward with her fingers.

She snipped the hair loose with the scissors, then returned to the cauldron and dropped it in with the potion.

The plumes of smoke rising from the cauldron grew thicker, and the color changed to a pinkish hue. Healer Wells audibly gasped.

"It can't be," she murmured.

"What is it?" asked Hermione. "What's the result?"

Healer Wells didn't answer her. She looked up, her expression stunned, and said, "I'll be back in just a minute. I need to consult with a colleague."

Hermione wanted to throttle the other woman, but nodded stiffly instead as the healer strode to the door and left.

She didn't have to wait long. Healer Wells returned within a few minutes, accompanied by an elderly man dressed in the same green healer robes as his colleague. His long white hair was tied back, keeping it out of his face, which was lined with age.

"Hello Ms. Granger," the man greeted her. "I'm Healer Rhodes. I'll be assisting Healer Wells on your case today."

The man walked over to the cauldron and peeked inside, his brows raising as he inspected its contents.

"Yes, it's indicative of an omega designation," he informed Healer Wells.

"But shouldn't it be red?" she asked. "The color is more on the pink side."

"It's because she hasn't fully presented yet," explained the older healer. "The changes have just begun. The closer she comes to her first heat, the darker the color will become, until reaching a bright red."

"Have there ever been any cases of a false positive?" Hermione interjected herself into the conversation, feeling irritated by the way they were speaking about her as though she weren't sitting within earshot of them.

Healer Rhodes turned to look at her. "I'm afraid not. The test is quite conclusive. It's been a long time since I've seen an omega result though. You're only the third one I've met in my long career. It's why Healer Wells called for me. She's never seen a positive omega result before. We are more accustomed to testing for alpha designations around here."

The healer's clear, matter-of-fact declaration evaporated Hermione's waning hope that the entire "omega" thing might simply be a mistake on Harry's part.

She swallowed her disappointment, her mind shifting into action mode now.

"Alright," she said. "What is the treatment and how soon can I begin?"

The healers exchanged a meaningful glance between them. A sickening feeling began to settle into the pit of Hermione's stomach.

"Well, you aren't ill, Ms. Granger," said Healer Rhodes. "You've simply begun the next step of your body's maturation."

"Is that your way of telling me there isn't any treatment available?" asked Hermione, trying to keep her tone calm, but a hint of panic managed to seep in anyway.

"Well, there are calming draughts and dreamless sleep," said Healer Wells unhelpfully.

"And those suppress the symptoms?" inquired Hermione, proud of herself for keeping most of the sarcasm out of her voice.

"Well, no," she replied, seeming a bit miffed at being called out. "But it might take the edge off during the more uncomfortable parts."

"Honestly, Ms. Granger," said Healer Rhodes. "The only true treatment is to bond with an alpha. You'll still experience heats, of course, but you shouldn't draw the attention of alphas other than your mate after that, nor will you be drawn to anyone other than your mate. I assume you have some basic knowledge of these matters?"

"I have very little knowledge of it," replied Hermione. "Other than some stories I read in a history textbook when I was eighteen."

Healer Rhodes nodded. "Yes, there aren't many texts on it at all. I do have a copy of a useful journal penned by an omega a few decades ago. You won't find it in any of the regular Wizarding bookstores, but healers have access to such things. I'll give you a copy to take home with you."

"Thank you," said Hermione. "What am I supposed to do to manage this? I have a boyfriend. If he isn't an alpha, can he still help me when I reach my heat?"

The look Healer Rhodes gave her contained a touch of pity. "I wouldn't advise trying to go through a heat with a beta. It would be a miserable experience for you both. Is there any chance he might be an alpha and just doesn't know it yet?"

Hermione shook her head with a sigh. "I doubt it. I haven't seen him show any signs. Unless he just hasn't reached that point yet."

"Well, if you'd like to be sure, you can have him come in and be tested," said Healer Rhodes. "The test will either show his designation or remain inert if he hasn't begun to present yet."

Hermione nodded. "Alright, yes, I'll talk to him. How often do the heats occur?"

"About every three months. Other than during pregnancy of course."

"What if my boyfriend does turn out to be an alpha, but I'm not ready to be bonded to him? It's a permanent commitment right?"

"Yes, once completed it's irreversible. You don't have to complete the mating bond until you're ready though," replied Healer Rhodes. "If your boyfriend does happen to be an alpha, he could simply help you through the heats without bonding. I will warn you that there are risks involved with this approach. From everything I've heard and read, the desire to bond becomes quite strong during a heat."

Hermione nodded somberly. "Understood."

"How long do I have? Until my first heat?"

"Judging by the fact that you aren't showing symptoms besides temperature fluctuations yet, I'd say anywhere between a couple of weeks to a month," answered Healer Rhodes. "But it isn't an exact science. You should begin experiencing additional symptoms soon, though. The more those intensify, the closer you are coming to your heat."

Hermione had one final question. "Why aren't there any suppressants available to help omegas?"

"It's such a rare designation," said Healer Rhodes, his tone sympathetic. "There hasn't been much interest in treating a state that occurs so seldomly. And, as I mentioned before, the Wizarding population has always viewed the mating bond as the treatment."

Of course they did. Anger welled up within Hermione at once again being an outsider in Wizarding society.

"I'll get that book for you," said Healer Rhodes, perhaps noting that Hermione's mood had changed from inquisitive to something darker.

~

She texted Harry upon arriving home.

You were right. St. Mungo's confirmed that I'm an omega.

It took Harry a few minutes to answer.

I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?

Did she want to talk about it? With Harry? Their previous conversation about the matter had been horribly awkward. It would probably be even more uncomfortable now that there was no doubt regarding her omega status.

But perhaps that was to be their new normal. Things were only going to get worse. Harry had said it the day before, and the healers at St. Mungo's had confirmed it. Her symptoms were going to grow stronger, and she and Harry were going to have to deal with the fact that their biology was going to make them respond in new—and potentially embarrassing—ways around one another. Wouldn't it be better to go ahead and discuss things while they were both mostly themselves?

You can come over if you're free.

Harry appeared a few minutes later, apparating into her living room with a soft pop. Hermione gave him a shaky smile from where she sat on the sofa, her knees curled up into her body and her arms wrapped around her legs.

Harry ambled over and took a seat on the other end of the sofa.

"There's no treatment," she told him. "They gave me a journal to read about omegas and wished me luck. That was about it."

"You can't be serious," said Harry. "They can't do anything more than that?"

"Apparently, omegas are rare enough that no one's particularly concerned about helping them," said Hermione, her tone brittle. "The best advice they could give me was to find an alpha to help me when the time comes."

She sighed. "I'm going to ask Michael if he's willing to be tested, so we can see if he's an alpha."

Harry simply nodded, but something about the expression on his face gave her pause.

"What? Is there something you're not telling me? Can you smell other alphas like you do omegas?"

"To a certain extent. I can't say I've ever come across a particularly strong alpha scent, but that's probably because those pheromones spike higher when there's an omega around, and I haven't been around that type of scenario before."

Hermione read between the lines. "But you do smell them then? And you haven't picked up anything when you're around Michael?"

"It's not just scent-based. I can kind of sense other alphas. There's an energy about them, I guess. And, no, I haven't picked up on anything like that around Michael."

"Maybe he just hasn't presented yet."

"Maybe."

They sat silently for a moment.

"Things are going to get a little…strange between us, aren't they?" Hermione said quietly.

Harry sighed. "Maybe a little. We might have to avoid one another during certain times."

She nodded. "Yes, I figured as much."

"But we'll handle it," he said, giving her a reassuring smile. "We've been through much worse before and our friendship has survived."

She nodded, her eyes a little misty. It had been an intense day, and her shock was wearing off enough to allow her emotions to come to the forefront.

"You're right. We'll get through this. Can we keep it between us for now though? I'm not ready to tell anyone besides Michael."

"Of course. It didn't even occur to me to share it with anyone else."

She groaned. "I have no idea what I'm going to do about work. I've been trying to prove to Kingsley that I have what it takes to become his assistant, and now I'll have to take unexplained time off on short notice."

"Maybe you should tell him the truth," said Harry. "I'm sure he would understand."

Hermione buried her head between her knees and body, her words sounding muffled as she said, "But it's so embarrassing."

"Maybe you could send him word via interoffice mail," suggested Harry. "You could keep it brief and matter-of-fact."

Hermione lifted her head and nodded. "Maybe. It's going to be difficult to make eye contact with him after that, but I guess I have no other options. I'll add a note asking him to destroy the message after he's read it."

"If you need me to help handle anything for you while you're on leave, just let me know. I've asked for reduced hours at the auror's office while I figure out my next step."

"You have? You're sure about moving on then?"

Harry nodded. "I've been eyeing some other positions at the Ministry too. I never really took the time to just try things out after the war, you know. I think I was trying to live up to the expectations every one had of me, and I didn't want to seem as lost as I felt back then. I've come to the realization that my next job can just be a job while I figure things out. It doesn't have to be this perfect career track that I follow for the rest of my life."

Hermione beamed at him. "That's wonderful, Harry. You absolutely should try out different things, and figure out what you like. Have any of the positions captured your interest?"

He shrugged. "Something opened up at the Muggle liaison office. It seems like it would be best if it was filled by someone who actually understands Muggles."

Hermione nodded. "Yes, I agree. I heard about that one. McLaggen was trying to convince me to apply for it."

Harry's response was immediate. "No, you should keep trying for Kingsley's role. It's a clearer path to Minister of Magic."

The way he answered with such clear confidence, resolute in his support for her bid to become Minister, made Hermione shuffle over towards him and rest her head lightly on his shoulder.

"Thanks Harry. I appreciate the support."

"Of course," he said, turning his head towards her, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her forehead as he added, "No one would be a better fit for Minister than you. I know you'll do great things."

It was then that she caught her first hint of his scent. It was still faint, dancing on the edge of her senses. But she knew immediately what it was, and why Harry had seemed so sure of her omega status before.

Harry smelled better than amortentia. His scent bore the promise of so much: sex, comfort, sheer bliss. Her body reacted swiftly to it, heat spreading through her, awakening her senses.

Hermione pulled away, trying to keep the movement casual and nonchalant. But she knew Harry must have perceived something, because his expression looked as discomfited as hers.

He stood, rubbing the back of his neck and staring off slightly to the side, "I should probably head out. Er, give you some time to read up on that journal. I know you like to research."

"No, yes, right. I definitely do like research. Thanks for stopping by."

Harry met her eyes briefly as he gave a stiff little nod, before pulling out his wand and apparating away.

Hermione sat still on her sofa afterwards. The fact that this was only the beginning of things frightened her, because she was already so tempted to bury her nose into the part of the sofa Harry’s head had been resting against, eager for a stronger hit of his intoxicating scent.

Chapter 5

Notes:

I had to do a slight retcon in the previous chapter. I had mentioned the Ministry inter-office mail as being “owl” mail, but the inter-office mail was actually delivered via enchanted paper airplanes, so I’ve corrected that.

The journal the healers from St. Mungo's had given Hermione was, fortunately, a very useful one.

She read the entire thing within a couple of hours. It didn't alleviate her concerns about being an omega. On the contrary, the journal writer—whose identity was not disclosed in the text—described heats in a way that made Hermione dread the onslaught of uncontrollable feelings and urges.

But she was exceedingly grateful for the knowledge imparted by the journal, because when her scent glands appeared the following day, Hermione knew exactly what they were. She stood in front of her bathroom mirror after emerging from the shower, and lightly ran her fingers across the barely raised patches at the base of her neck. They were sensitive to the touch. She could easily imagine how it would feel for someone else to run his fingers along them—softly, using just his fingertips—before replacing his fingers with his tongue and licking along the delicate skin. The mental image made her shiver.

Hermione pushed the thought aside and finished getting dressed. She had a big day ahead of her. Michael would be coming over later in the day, and she was planning to tell him about her omega designation.

She made her way to the kitchen, preparing a cup of tea for herself and drinking it alongside a piece of toast with peanut butter. She was sitting at her small dining room table with a copy of The Daily Prophet in front of her, when she heard a tapping at her window.

A mid-sized brown barn owl was visible through the clear glass, flapping around the window with a message attached to its leg.

Hermione picked out a treat from a jar she kept on her counter and handed it to the owl as she removed the message from its leg. The owl gobbled down the treat in a few seconds and took flight, quickly disappearing into the overcast sky. Hermione closed the window and opened the message.

Hermione,

Ron and I are having a gathering of friends on Friday evening. We would love it if you and Michael came.

Luna

It was the type of invitation that ordinarily would have brightened her day. Ron and Luna had hosted friendly "gatherings" before, and it was usually a good time. The invitees knew by now to bring a drink and a starter to share with the rest of the group, and the evening was usually a lowkey affair of chatting with friends while enjoying the edible offerings.

Hermione felt less excited about the invitation this time around though. Her life was in such a state of flux that socializing felt like another hurdle to overcome at the moment, rather than the relaxing pastime it had been before.

Michael arrived just before lunch time, coming through her Floo and greeting her with a quick kiss.

"What's wrong?" he asked, seeing her somber expression.

"There's something I need to talk to you about. Let's have a cuppa."

She filled him in as they sat at her dining room table with cups of hot tea in front of them. He listened with a concerned look on his face as she described the symptoms she'd been having lately. But his expression darkened when she mentioned how Harry had suggested that she pursue designation testing.

"So he's an alpha?" asked Michael. Hermione could tell by the tensing of his jaw that he was not pleased about that detail.

"Yes."

"And did he try anything with you?"

Hermione frowned. "No, of course not. I've told you before. We're just friends. It's not like that."

Michael let out a humorless laugh. "It sounds like it might be a little more like that now, if he's acting like a protective alpha around you."

"I think you're reading too much into that. He's just being a good friend."

Michael's sullen expression remained, but he let her share the rest of her story without interrupting.

"I can't believe it," he said at the end. "I knew about designations, of course. It was part of the talk my parents had with me when I reached puberty, but the odds of someone being an omega are so small that I just can't believe it happened to you."

"I know," said Hermione. "I think I'm still processing the news. It was so unexpected."

Michael nodded silently, taking a drink of his tea.

"Do you know what your designation is?" asked Hermione.

Michael sighed. "I've never been tested. Most people turn out to be betas, so I just assumed I would be one too."

"Right," said Hermione. "What do you think about getting tested now though? I'm just trying to figure out what to do when my heat starts, and it would be helpful to know if…you could help me."

Michael's brows raised. "I'm willing to help you regardless. It's just sex right? I'm perfectly capable of that."

"It's not just sex. It's a lot more intense than that. I've been reading a journal they gave me at St. Mungo's, and it describes a heat. It's not just a couple of days of increased randiness. It's consecutive days of building need that would quickly become overwhelming for someone who's not an alpha."

Hermione looked down at her tea cup, running her fingers along the rim in distracted fashion, waiting for Michael's response to that.

"So if I turn out to be a beta, what does that mean for us? Would we break up because I couldn't meet your needs? Would you run to Harry to ask for his help?"

Hermione had been expecting the initial question. It was a fair one to ask. But she hadn't expected Harry to be dragged into it.

"Of course not. Harry and I haven't even considered that."

"So he knows about your test result already? You told him first?" asked Michael, a note of accusation in his tone.

"He's the one who clued me in to what was happening in the first place," replied Hermione, irritation bleeding into her words. "So, yes, I told him what the results were after I left the hospital."

Michael stared down at the table with a glum expression on his face. A weighty silence descended between them.

"You don't have to get tested if you don't want to," said Hermione quietly. "Maybe we just take some time apart to think about what we want to do."

Michael's gaze turned towards her. "I didn't say I wouldn't go. I'll do it. If it does turn out that I'm an alpha, then we're just worrying in vain right?"

Hermione nodded. "Right."

Michael took a final swig of his tea and stood. "Alright, I'll head over to St. Mungo's now then. Might as well get it done as soon as possible."

Hermione stood as well, coming around to give him a hug. "Ok, thank you. Will you come over after?"

Michael nodded. "Yeah, I'll come straight here."

Hermione let out a heavy sigh once he'd disappeared through her Floo.

Her hopes of Michael being an alpha had just dwindled even lower than they had initially been. She'd picked up a new scent from Michael as she'd hugged him—his unique natural essence that she'd never registered before.

And it had stirred nothing within her.

~

Michael was understandably upset by the result of his designation testing.

"I mean, nothing has to change right? We can still try to work through this together," he said after delivering the news of his confirmed "beta" status.

Hermione nodded. "Of course. We don't have to decide anything today."

He didn't stay long after that. Their conversation felt stilted and awkward, as though they were trying to ignore the elephant in the room.

"I think I'll head home," he said. "I just need a little time to…process all of this."

"Yes, of course. That's completely understandable."

He was nearly to the Floo when she remembered the invitation she'd received from Luna that morning.

"Oh, by the way," she said, and Michael paused to look at her. "Luna and Ron are having a gathering this Friday and they invited us. You don't have to come if you don't want to though. I'd understand."

"Are you going?" he asked.

She nodded.

He seemed to consider the matter for a minute, before eventually nodding. "Yes, I'll come."

Hermione felt a surprising jolt of disappointment at his response, but she tried not to let it show, pasting a cheerful smile on her face instead.

"Great."

The reason for her disappointment came to her shortly after Michael disappeared into the green flames of her Floo. There was no way of knowing how her body would respond to Harry's presence at the gathering. If she felt anything like she had when she'd caught that hint of his scent the previous day, she would rather not have Michael next to her to witness it.

~

Hermione's ability to pick up the scent of alphas only increased throughout that week. Unfortunately, she realized the inverse was true as well; alphas were having an easier time identifying her.

She stopped going to the canteen at the Ministry after the day she drew the amazed attention of several colleagues, who stopped in their tracks and stared at her in open-mouthed shock. She knew they were alphas; the smell was unmistakable to her now.

"You don't want to come to the canteen with me today?" asked Padma, when Hermione informed her she would be apparating home for lunch. "Are you feeling alright? You've seemed a little off lately."

Hermione had only planned to share the truth with others on a need-to-know basis, but the secrecy was weighing on her. It wasn't as though she could really discuss this with Harry or Ron, and Padma had become a true friend to her during their time working together.

"Do you want to come home with me for lunch?" she asked Padma. "There's something I want to talk to you about, but I can't do it here."

Padma accepted, and Hermione told her the news over a lunch of leftover roast chicken and vegetables.

"That's incredible. I kind of thought omegas were a myth," said Padma.

"I wish," said Hermione grimly. "I've written and rewritten a note to Kingsley to explain the situation about ten times now, but I can't quite bring myself to send it."

"I'm sure he'll understand. It's a medical thing."

"Maybe, but it does give McLaggen a leg up on me for the assistant role."

Padma snorted. "Not really. McLaggen's off on holiday now, even though some of his projects were due this week. I know, because I had to cover for some of them. He said he took time off for important family business, but I'd be willing to bet there's very little actual business taking place. Your condition is a legitimate reason to miss work. Believe me, Kingsley knows who the best choice would be. He just wants to make sure he isn’t accused of favoritism. That’s the only reason he’s even considering McLaggen."

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe."

Upon returning to the office, she took Padma up on her offer to review her letter to Kingsley. After making a few tweaks to the wording, she hand-delivered it to his office, not trusting the regular interoffice mail system of enchanted paper airplanes. Those could be intercepted, and Hermione couldn't imagine a more embarrassing scenario than having the letter end up in the wrong hands.

The administrative assistant sitting outside Kingsley's office agreed to hand it to him as soon as his calendar had a free moment.

Hermione returned to her office with her stomach in knots, imagining Kingsley's reaction upon reading the letter and wondering what his response would be.

She tried to immerse herself in work for the rest of the afternoon, delving into a proposal she was working on for an international project to add further protections for dragons in the wild, when Padma called her name.

"Hmm?" she answered, engrossed in perfecting the wording on one of her sentences.

"Kingsley is walking towards us right now," said Padma in a hushed voice.

Hermione's head sprang up, to find that Kingsley was indeed headed in their direction.

"Might I have a word in private?" he said, upon reaching Hermione's desk.

"Yes, of course," she said, rising quickly. "There's an empty conference room just around the corner."

"Thank you for telling me about your situation, Hermione," said Kingsley, once they'd settled into a private conference room usually reserved for diplomatic visitors. "It will not be a problem, and it will not affect your candidacy for the position I'm filling. In fact, I'm also here to tell you that you and Mr. McLaggen are the final two candidates for the role. I will be having a meeting with both of you next week to discuss next steps."

Hermione felt the urge to hug him, but she remembered herself and simply nodded enthusiastically.

"Thank you, sir," she said with a grateful smile. "I appreciate the opportunity."

Kingsley left as quickly as he'd arrived, on his way to yet another meeting.

"How'd it go?" asked Padma when Hermione retook her seat at her desk.

Hermione grinned. "As well as it could have really. Maybe things are starting to look up a little."

~

Michael met Hermione at her flat on Friday so they could go together to Luna and Ron's flat.

She hadn't seen him since the previous weekend, and their only communication during the week had been a few brief messages exchanged via inter-office mail.

"How are you?" he asked, seeming just as awkward as she felt.

"Good, you?"

"Good, yeah."

"Are you feeling…well?" he asked hesitantly.

Hermione was not feeling great. The increased libido the healer's assistant at St. Mungo's had mentioned had kicked in, and Hermione had begun having vivid, passion-filled dreams that left her uncomfortably aroused upon awaking. She spent a good portion of her days now trying to redirect her mind away from certain scenarios that liked to pop in there unbidden.

"Yes, I'm well," she lied. She knew instinctively that telling Michael about this recent development would only serve to make the night more awkward.

"Oh, good," he said, smiling weakly.

Hermione picked up her bag, along with the bottle of wine and platter of mini sandwiches she'd prepared to share. "Should we go? I'm sure others have started arriving by now."

Michael nodded and reached out to take the wine and sandwiches from her. "I can carry those if you like. It's the least I can do since you did all of the preparation."

Hermione handed them over and made her way to the Floo, picking up and opening her jar of Floo powder.

"Ron and Luna's flat," she said, after throwing a handful of the green powder in.

The scent of an alpha greeted her as soon as she emerged from the Floo. For a long, awful moment, Hermione feared that perhaps Ron was an alpha too.

But when he came forward to greet her, Hermione smelled a light, clean beta scent emanating from him. She gave him a hug and breathed in deeply, relieved that her friendship with Ron wouldn't be affected by her physical condition.

"Thank you for coming," said Luna to her and Michael.

"Thanks for having us," said Michael. He lifted the bottle of wine and gestured towards the tray of sandwiches he was holding. "Where should I put these?"

"In the kitchen," said Luna. "Here, I'll show you."

"Are we the first to arrive?" Hermione asked Ron as Michael and Luna walked away, curious now as to why she had picked up an alpha scent. She knew it wasn't Harry. She'd learned that week that alphas all had unique scents. While she found them all to be alluring, they were different in subtle ways. And, so far, none had smelled as good as Harry.

"Hey, Ron," came a familiar voice. "Luna said I could place the plant I brought in the living room rather than the kitchen. She said—"

Neville's voice trailed off as he came closer to Hermione and Ron. His eyes widened in shock as he stared at her.

"Hermione," he said, his tone stunned.

Ron gave him an odd look. "Er, yeah, mate. Wherever Luna told you to put it is good. Just find a bare spot. We'll sort it out later."

Neville seemed to have forgotten he was holding a potted plant. He glanced down at the vibrant green leaves of the plant and shook his head, as though clearing it.

"Right, yeah," he said. "I'll just, er, find a spot."

"Want a drink?" Ron offered Hermione. "We can get you set up with something in the kitchen."

Hermione nodded, feeling Neville's gaze on her as he set the plant on an empty spot of an end table. Heat crept up the back of her neck, a palpable sense of awareness overtaking her senses.

Neville let out a choked little cough, and Hermione wondered whether he could smell her body's reaction. That thought warmed her, mostly with embarrassment, but she'd be lying if she said there wasn't a hint of arousal in there as well.

"Yes, a drink would be lovely," she blurted out, desperate to escape the room before Neville could pick up on more of her changing pheromones.

Neville didn't follow them to the kitchen. There were still faint traces of him there, but that was much easier to handle than the potent effect of his fresh pheromones at close range.

Hermione hadn't been expecting the effect to be so strong. If she had known, she wouldn't have come. But she'd allowed herself to be lulled into a false sense of security by the fact that she hadn't experienced any overly troublesome encounters with alphas that week.

In hindsight, she should have realized there were reasons for that. Her efforts to avoid Ministry areas where she might run into alphas had been successful and, even if she had encountered any, the Ministry was huge, and the open space diluted the scent somewhat.

Ron and Luna's small flat was a very different environment, enclosed enough to concentrate any alpha pheromones in the air. Taking into account the fact that she was also growing closer to her heat with every day that passed, it was simple to see why her body was responding the way it was.

"Please feel free to make yourselves a plate," said Luna as she entered the kitchen. "And grab something to drink. We'll spend most of our time in the living room tonight. Ron and I thought it might be fun to play a game once everyone arrives."

Hermione stiffened. That sounded awful. Neville was in the living room. Harry would no doubt be there soon. And it was more difficult to make a speedy escape in the middle of a game with others. The entire situation sounded vaguely horrific.

"That sounds fun," said Michael. "Hermione loves games."

He gave her a teasing smile. "Probably because she wins so often."

Hermione smiled, accepting the glass of wine Ron was handing her and taking a couple of long draws from it.

Michael looked askance at her. "You alright?"

She nodded. "Mm-hmm. It's very good wine."

She stalled as much as possible after Ron and Luna had left the kitchen, slowly picking out a couple of cucumber sandwiches to load onto a plate for herself and topping up her glass of wine.

When she and Michael emerged from the kitchen, the crowd in the living room had grown. Neville was now sitting next to Hannah Abbott on one of the sofas…and Harry sat across from them on the other sofa. Ron and Luna had settled into the armchairs that rounded out the seating, so the only spots left to sit were next to Harry.

Hermione's steps faltered for a moment. She felt Michael's gaze move between her and Harry, and she knew he was observing them for signs that something had changed between them.

Hermione steeled herself and continued walking, nodding a greeting towards Hannah and Harry before taking the empty spot next to Harry. She set her plate and glass of wine on the coffee table in front of them and sat back against the sofa cushions.

It hit her like a tidal wave…the most indescribably pleasurable scent to exist on Earth. Her skin tingled with that same awareness she'd felt earlier, only intensified ten-fold, and waves of fervent want coursed through her. The need to lean closer to Harry pressed in on her; she wanted to climb onto his lap and rest her nose against the gland above his collarbone, breathing in deeply until she was immersed in his essence.

It took all of Hermione's self-control to keep her expression composed. She crossed her legs, grateful for having worn jeans and a jumper that evening rather than a dress or skirt. Heat was pooling at her center and she was grateful for the thick jean material, worried that Harry or Neville might be able to sense or, even more embarrassing, smell that sign of her arousal.

Hermione was so concerned over her own body's responses, that it took her a moment to realize she wasn't the only one being affected.

She glanced up and locked eyes with Neville, who had a look of intense concentration on his face as he took slow, even breaths. He looked as though he was resisting the urge to spring up and…

Hermione realized she wasn't sure exactly what Neville was contemplating doing. She'd thought he was simply feeling the compulsion to reach out to her, but then his eyes panned over to Harry and narrowed into an expression approaching hostility.

Hermione braved a look at Harry. He was staring back at Neville, and she could see the tension in his frame. He sat stiffly, his hand tapping along his thigh in a fidgety way. She could sense he was battling for control as well; it was evident in the way he was taking shallow breaths, as though trying to inhale as little as he could.

"Everyone seems very quiet and tense tonight," observed Luna placidly, drawing all of their attention towards her.

Hermione knew it was up to her to defuse the situation. She was the one causing all of the tension in the room.

"I'm afraid I don't feel well," she said, bolting up. "I'm so sorry. I'm going to head home."

She barely registered the responses to her announcement. She was vaguely aware of the murmur of Ron expressing some words of concern and Luna wishing her a speedy recovery as she sprinted for the Floo and made her escape.

Michael came through her Floo a minute after she did and found her gulping huge lungfuls of fresh air as she tried to clear the effect of the pheromones from her body.

"It was being around Harry, wasn't it?" he asked quietly.

"And Neville. He's an alpha too," she admitted.

Michael let out a humorless huff of laughter. "Of course, everyone but me."

Hermione frowned. "Ron isn't one either."

He shrugged, clearly not finding much consolation in that fact.

They stood silently as she slowly regained her composure, finally reaching the point where her breaths were steady once again and her body no longer burned.

"This isn't going to work, is it?" he asked, his tone letting her know it was more of a statement than a question.

"No, I don't think so," she said sadly.

He gave her a rueful smile. "Well, we had a good run while it lasted."

She nodded, smiling misty-eyed at him. "Yes, we did."

They hugged before he left, and Hermione found her body's lack of response to his proximity to be oddly soothing after the charged events of the evening.

Chapter 6

Notes:

Content warning in the end notes.

Hermione had grown used to a routine of reading in bed at night to help calm her mind for sleep, and this night was no different. She had just slipped under her bedcovers with a copy of a history book she was reading for the second time, when her mobile began buzzing on the nightstand beside her.

She set the book down and reached for the phone, her heart doing a little flip when she saw Harry's name pop up as the caller. Thinking of him reminded her of the intense reaction she'd had to him earlier that evening, and her breath quickened as a residual ripple of need ran through her at the memory. She pressed the button to accept the call.

"Hey," came his voice over the line. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I hadn't gone to sleep yet."

"Oh, good…are you with Michael right now?"

"No," said Hermione. She paused for a moment, before adding with a sigh, "Michael and I broke up tonight."

"I'm so sorry Hermione," said Harry, his tone sympathetic. "I hope it wasn't because of Neville and I. We both felt bad about driving you off."

Hermione's cheeks warmed with embarrassment. "So the two of you spoke about me? After I left?"

"Not in front of anyone else," said Harry hastily. "He followed me into the kitchen when I went to grab a plate. Everyone else was still in the living room. He just wanted to apologize for his behavior. It was his first time being around an omega, and he wasn't prepared for…the effect."

"Did anyone else suspect anything?

"No. Michael said you hadn't been feeling well these past few days, and that he would check on you. That put everyone's mind at ease. Ron is a little worried that you've been having recurring episodes of not feeling well though. I told him I'd make sure you got checked out."

"Thanks Harry."

The line went silent for a moment. When Harry spoke again, his words were quiet and hesitant.

"Your scent is getting stronger, Hermione…it was a bit overwhelming tonight. I was thinking it might be safer if you take leave before your actual, er, heat arrives."

Hermione could imagine the look on Harry's face at the other end of the line, no doubt awkward and flushed at having to mention such a deeply personal aspect of her biology.

She sighed. "I know. I've been having more symptoms lately. But I can't take leave yet. I have an important meeting with Kingsley next week. The healers at St. Mungo's said I probably have another week left at least."

"But they can't guarantee that," countered Harry. "It could happen before that too. And what if you end up around an alpha that's not trustworthy? I just—I don't want you to get hurt."

"Fortunately, my meeting with Kingsley is on Monday. I'm sure I can make it until then. If things don't improve, I'll just take leave after that."

She heard a heavy sigh from Harry, but he didn't try to change her mind. "Alright, is your flat well-stocked at least? Do you have everything you'll need so you don't have to make any trips to the shops once your leave begins?"

"Yes," replied Hermione, glad she had filled her fridge and cupboards well ahead of time. "I'll be all set when the time comes."

"Ok, good," said Harry. He paused for a moment, then added, "Just be careful, alright."

"I will," she told him. "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

They exchanged goodnight wishes before ending the call. Hermione set the phone back on the nightstand and picked her book up again, but her mind wouldn't focus on the words. When her thoughts drifted off for the third time, she gave up and closed the book. She placed it on the nightstand beside her phone and turned off her lamp, resigning herself to what would most likely be a fitful night of sleep.

~

By the time Monday rolled around, Hermione wholeheartedly agreed with Harry's suggestion of taking leave early.

She felt jittery as she stepped out of the shower that morning, restless energy surging through her, bringing a rosy flush to her cheeks and a bright shine to her eyes. Her skin felt warm to the touch, and she chose a light, black sheath dress to wear, finding it to be one of the few articles of clothing in her wardrobe that didn't feel heavy and stifling.

The weekend had been a long one; her feelings had lived on one extreme or the other for most of the two days. A sense of melancholy crept in whenever she thought about the abrupt end of her relationship with Michael, but this was interspersed with moments of near euphoria whenever Harry reached out to check on her.

He'd texted on Saturday and called on Sunday. And each time, Hermione felt an embarrassing rush of giddiness at the thought that he was taking care of her. She knew, rationally, that this reaction was due to the hormonal changes caused by her upcoming heat. She and Harry had watched out for each other before, and it had never resulted in this state of enamored excitement.

But, despite knowing that, she was powerless to suppress this new, unwanted response on her part. Hearing his voice when he asked her how she was feeling on Sunday left her temporarily speechless; she was too distracted marveling at the deep, masculine tenor of his voice. It was mortifying.

She managed to have a cup of tea and half a piece of toast before leaving for work. Anything more than that seemed impossible in her current state.

"Ready for the big meeting?" asked Padma upon arriving at her desk.

"As ready as I'll ever be," said Hermione, trying to muster up a smile.

"Well, I saw McLaggen on my way in this morning, and I'm pretty sure I was right about his family business just being an excuse to go on holiday. He's looking remarkably refreshed and even came back with a tan."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm sure he thinks he has this in the bag, so there's no need to put in any extra effort."

"Most likely," agreed Padma.

Hermione and McLaggen's meeting with Kingsley was scheduled for ten in the morning. She gave herself plenty of time to make her way to Kingsley's office before the start of the meeting.

"You can go on in," Kingsley's administrative assistant informed her when she arrived. "He's expecting you."

Kingsley was sitting behind the grand mahogany desk in the Minister of Magic's office when she entered. He rose to greet her, shaking her hand firmly.

"Punctual as always," he said approvingly. "Please have a seat as we await Mr. McLaggen's arrival."

McLaggen arrived just as the clock on the wall read ten.

"Come in," called Kingsley when they heard the rapping on the door. Hermione hid a smile as she listened to the door opening and closing behind her. Kingsley hadn't bothered to rise from his seat this time, probably considering McLaggen's just-on-time arrival to be as good as late.

"Good morning," said Kingsley to McLaggen. "Please have a seat, and we'll get started."

Hermione didn't bother looking at McLaggen. She'd already decided to pretend he wasn't there. Her attention was focused solely on Kingsley as McLaggen settled into the seat next to her.

The wave of pheromones hit her so strongly because she wasn't expecting it. It was disorienting, feeling her body automatically respond to the stimulation when her mind was completely focused on something else.

McLaggen was an alpha. This realization finally permeated the confused haze in her mind. She resisted the urge to look at him, although she could sense his eyes on her.

"Is there a problem?" Kingsley paused in the middle of the speech he'd been giving them, congratulating them both on reaching the final stage of the selection process. "You seem a bit distracted Mr. McLaggen."

McLaggen cleared his throat, and Hermione felt the heat of his gaze turn away from her as he responded to Kingsley. "No, my apologies sir. You have my undivided attention."

The rest of the meeting was torture. If asked, Hermione would have compared it to trying to prepare for an exam while intoxicated. She tried to ignore the way her body revved up in response to McLaggen, repeating Kingsley's words in her mind to commit them to memory.

"I'd like you each to prepare a portfolio that showcases your projects and achievements for my review," Kingsley instructed them. "Please don't be modest. Anything of note that you've accomplished during your time at the Ministry should be included."

He went on to provide more details on the type of assignments he was most interested in hearing about, as well as the kind of information he hoped to glean from it. In summary, he wanted to know not only what they had done, but how they had done it.

"When is it due?" asked Hermione, hoping her voice sounded as even and professional as she intended.

"In two weeks. I'll make my final decision after reviewing both."

Kingsley dismissed them after that, and Hermione carefully avoided looking at McLaggen as she left the office. She adopted a brisk pace, trying to put as much space as possible between the two of them, craving air that didn't carry his scent in it.

But McLaggen did not cooperate with her plan. His footsteps easily caught up to hers, and she felt his hand reach out to grip her arm as they reached an empty corridor on their way back to their respective desks.

"We need to talk," he said. "Let's find an empty conference room."

Hermione wrenched her arm away from him. "No, thank you. I have nothing to say to you."

She kept walking, but he jogged in front of her and cut off her path.

"Would you rather we speak here then?" he asked with a smirk. "Not very private, but if you don't mind everyone hearing what I want to talk to you about, I certainly don't have a problem with it."

Hermione glared at him, mentally debating which was the worst option, having it out with him here, or following him to an enclosed space in her current condition.

She heard the sound of people's voices approaching, most likely other Ministry employees about to round the corner and run into them.

"Fine," she spat out. "Let's go."

McLaggen grinned triumphantly and turned to continue walking, peeking in periodically as they passed by rooms with panes of frosted glass that provided just enough visibility to see whether there was anyone inside.

"In here," he said, opening the door to one of the rooms after peering in and presumably finding it vacant.

Hermione stepped into the room in a state of alert, on guard against whatever intentions he could possibly have. She remained within a meter of the door as he closed it, ready to bolt at the slightest hint of danger.

But she'd underestimated McLaggen's boldness. Hermione hadn't expected an immediate full frontal attack from him. She let out a surprised gasp as he turned away from the door, gripped her upper arms, and pressed her tightly against the wall.

"What do you think you're doing?" she shrieked, outraged.

McLaggen didn't respond at first. He leaned in against her, pressing his face against her neck and inhaling loudly.

"Fuck, there's no doubt," he said against her ear. "You're an omega. I knew it. I could barely hold it together in that meeting with you smelling like that."

"Get off of me," she said, pushing back against him. McLaggen's grip on her arms was strong enough that she wasn't able to wrestle out of it. For the first time, Hermione felt a hint of true fear. She tried to calm her breathing. He wouldn't try anything here, she told herself, not in the middle of the Ministry of Magic.

"Relax," he said, pulling back so that he could look her in the eye, his face inches from hers. "This is a good thing. The best thing really. There's no need for us to be pitted against one another anymore. We can be a team instead. I'll take care of you, and you can take care of me."

His eyes roved over her, and Hermione could feel his pheromones growing stronger, tinted with the smell of his arousal now.

"You can support me in becoming Minister," he continued. "I'll treat you well. You can't seriously expect to become Minister yourself now. Omegas are meant to support their alphas. That would please me, and you want to please me, don't you?"

Manic laughter bubbled up within Hermione. He must be insane.

McLaggen stared at her in bewilderment as she laughed hysterically.

"Not if you were the last alpha on Earth," she finally said.

McLaggen's eyes narrowed. "I bet you'll change your tune in a few days. I don't smell any other alphas on you. You're unclaimed then. When your heat comes around, you'll be begging me to fuck you."

That thought turned her stomach, revulsion making the bile rise in her throat.

"Accio wand," she whispered.

Her wand flew up from the pocket of her robe, shooting between them with enough velocity to startle McLaggen into loosening his grip. Hermione took advantage to pull her arm free and grab her wand, immediately aiming it at his neck.

"You are going to back off now," she said in a measured tone. "And I'm leaving. If you follow me, I will hex you."

She kept her wand raised and aimed in his direction as she backed towards the door, fumbling slightly to turn the doorknob behind her and open the door. McLaggen stood still, his eyes fixed darkly on her as she moved. Hermione only let herself turn her back to him as she quickly slipped out through the door and closed it behind her.

She wanted to slump against the hallway and let her trembling subside before going anywhere, but she didn't want anyone to find her like that, and she especially didn't want to see McLaggen when he emerged from the room. She could still smell traces of him on her. The lingering smell made her feel a disturbing blend of arousal and disgust.

Hermione forced herself to walk down the hallway, grateful for the coverage of her robes in hiding some of the jerkiness of her movements.

Entering the familiar territory of her office calmed her nerves somewhat, and she took a breath, slowing her pace as she approached the section where she and Padma sat.

Padma was at her desk, but turned away from her, chatting with someone who'd taken a seat at Hermione's desk. Hermione felt a swoop of emotion upon seeing who it was, a mixture of warmth, affection, and comfort.

Harry stood as she drew near, and his expression twisted into a frown as he took her in.

"What happened?" he asked. "You look…shaken."

Hermione nodded and took the final steps towards her desk, dropping into her seat. Harry's scent drifted towards her, a soothing antidote to the unpleasant feelings McLaggen's scent had stirred in her.

"McLaggen's an alpha," she said in a low voice.

Harry's jaw tensed. "Are you alright? Did he do anything to you?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, not really. He cornered me in a room, but I threatened to hex him and left."

Harry looked livid then, as though he had read between the lines and intuited that there was more to the story than what she had shared. "Where is he? I'm going to go talk to him."

"No, Harry. It's fine. You can leave it. I think I just want to go home now," she said quietly.

Harry's expression softened. "I'll take you. I was here to check on you anyway."

Padma, who had been listening nearby, spoke up. "Do you want me to let the others know you're taking sick leave? I won't mention why, of course."

Hermione gave her a grateful nod. "Thanks Padma. I'll send out a few patronuses today to request leave through the appropriate channels, but it would be lovely if you could let the others know that I won't be present at meetings and such. I've already left most of my tasks in a good place, so it shouldn't be too much of an inconvenience, at least."

"Don't worry about it, Hermione. We'll manage. Take care of yourself and reach out if you need anything."

Hermione nodded and managed a smile, before gathering her things and accompanying Harry to the Ministry's atrium to side-along apparate home.

~

The tense look had returned to Harry's face by the time they rematerialized in Hermione's living room.

"You're sure he didn't…hurt you?" he asked, his tone calm and controlled, but Hermione could hear the note of anger in it.

"I'm fine really, Harry," she reassured him.

He swallowed, staring down at the floor as he added, "I can smell him on you."

Hermione's breath quickened, hearing the unspoken question in his words.

"He pressed me up against the wall," she admitted. "And was…sniffing me. But that was all he did physically."

Harry's gaze turned towards her. "Did he do anything else not physically."

Hermione shrugged. "Just said some things that were…inappropriate."

Harry's eyes flashed with anger. His scent shifted slightly, taking on an edge of something raw and wild, as though his feelings were altering his pheromones.

His protectiveness stirred something in her, and she closed the space between them to hug him.

She didn't think the hug through ahead of time. Truthfully, thinking was becoming harder to do with each second that passed. Harry's alluring scent beckoned to her, urging her to come closer, to touch him, to breath him in a little more deeply.

Harry stood stiffly at first, not pushing her away, but not pulling her in either. Hermione was too far gone to care. She let her arms wrap around him and pressed her face to the front of his chest, nearly purring at how deliciously potent his scent was in that spot.

"Hermione," he said, his voice low and strained.

"Hmm," she sighed, turning her face up closer to his neck and inhaling deeply.

Harry let out a sharp exhale, and he returned the embrace then, his frame wrapping around hers. The side of his face grazed the side of hers.

"I need to go," he rasped. "I can't stay. I—you're too close to your heat. I can sense it."

His breathing sounded ragged, and she felt a tense shiver run through him. She got the impression he was battling for control, fighting against the same need that was starting to consume her.

Hermione didn't let go. If she were honest, she wanted him to lose control. The thought of that made her clench her thighs together as heat built between her legs.

"Ah, fuck," groaned Harry, setting his hands on her shoulders and gently pulling her off him. "I have to leave now Hermione. You're going to drive me into a rut."

A whimper nearly escaped her at that. Hermione choked down the sound, wrapping her arms around herself to keep from reaching out to him again.

She'd nearly forgotten herself, and a lesser man than Harry would have let her do so.

She nodded stiffly. "Right. Sorry."

"No, it's—it's not your fault," he said, taking a few steps back to increase the space between them. "I'll check in on you, yeah. You're going to stay here, right?"

"Yes, I will."

"If you need anything, just call or text me," he told her, gazing at her with a pained expression. She wondered if the prospect of him leaving was as distressing to him as it felt to her.

Hermione simply nodded again. She didn't dare say anything else. The temptation to ask him to stay was too great.

Harry made his way to her Floo and used it to return to the Ministry of Magic, giving her one last enigmatic look before disappearing into the green flames.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

I added the “Cormac McLaggen Being Creepy” tag because of this chapter, so be warned that he does get pretty creepy here.

Chapter 7

Notes:

This chapter is from Harry’s POV, so we get a little more insight into what’s going on from his side of things.

The news that he was an alpha had not dramatically altered Harry's life at first.

"It won't really affect much for you," the healer had told him after the test revealed his designation. "The initial growth phase tapers off quickly. And the chances of you ever experiencing a rut are slim. Omegas are so rare, it's unlikely you'll personally know one."

"What if I do run into one though?" he'd asked. "What will happen?"

"You would experience a biochemical reaction to their pheromones," explained the healer. "This would cause intense attraction, a heightened libido…things like that. But as long as you avoided extended exposure to them, you should be fine. The only thing that would push you into a rut would be spending prolonged time with an omega in heat."

Harry had been relieved to hear that his life wouldn't be further upended by his alpha designation. He'd experienced enough upheaval in recent months.

It wasn't that the changes were necessarily bad. The rupture of his relationship with Ginny had been in the works for a while now. And his dissatisfaction with his job had been slowly building throughout the years as well. He was proud of what he had accomplished as an auror, but he was feeling…tired. Being called into the field to track down and apprehend yet another dark wizard no longer inspired any passion in him. He'd helped train a good group of younger aurors as the years passed, and he was ready to pass the mantle on to them. His psyche was craving a purpose that was still meaningful, but quieter, more peaceful.

Hermione being an omega had thrown a wrench into his plans to shift towards a more tranquil life. He'd known as soon as he'd caught the first whiff of her scent that their relationship would be irrevocably altered. How could it not be when everything in him craved a closeness to her that went beyond the strong bond of friendship they shared?

Harry tried not to let it show. She needed him to be there for her. Her omega status was disruptive to her life in a way that his own alpha designation wasn't. So he didn't allow himself to avoid her, even when her scent intensified to the point that even a short encounter with her left him aching for hours afterwards.

But he had his limits. As he held her in her flat, engulfed in her sweet, seductive scent, Harry remembered the healer's warning about spending too much time with an omega in heat. Hermione might not be quite there yet, but he knew she was close. After just a few minutes of soaking her in, he felt the changes in his body, and instinctively knew what they meant.

He couldn't let it happen like this, not while they were both caught up in a fog of pheromones. Despite every cell in his body urging him to stay, Harry pulled himself away and forced himself to leave her.

After stepping through the Floo into the Ministry, Harry immediately made his way to the loo, knowing he needed to compose himself before interacting with anyone else. His decision was reinforced by the sight of himself in the mirror of the loo. He looked as worked up as he felt—eyes glittering, face flushed, his breath still close to panting.

He took a washcloth from a stack on the counter and wet it in the sink, patting his face with the cool water until his heartbeat resumed its normal rhythm and his breathing evened out. His mind began to clear, the buzz of need quieting down. He took a few, calming breaths as he considered his next steps.

McLaggen would need to be handled. Harry wasn't sure whether it was the alpha in him or the friend in him that had decided this, but he was sure it was the right thing to do. He couldn't allow the man to think that what he'd done to Hermione was acceptable.

After one last glance at his reflection in the mirror, Harry left the loo and walked the path to Hermione's office.

Padma was still sitting at her desk, filling out some paperwork. She looked up in surprise as he approached her.

"Do you know where McLaggen sits?" he asked.

Padma, bless her, didn't ask any questions or try to dissuade him.

She nodded and offered, "I'll walk you over."

They found McLaggen sitting on the edge of a pretty coworker's desk, a charming smile on his face as he spoke to her. The witch was eating it up, giggling at whatever he was saying.

"Thanks, Padma," said Harry with a nod. She nodded in return and turned to walk back to her section.

McLaggen looked up then, noticing Harry's arrival, and an uneasy look came over his face.

"Potter," he called out, his voice sounding jovial despite the unsettled look on his face. "What are you doing here? We're a bit removed from the auror's office."

"I'm actually here to see you McLaggen," replied Harry. "I need to have a chat with you. In private."

McLaggen cleared his throat. "We can just talk here."

He turned to flash a flirty grin at the woman he'd been speaking to earlier. "Evelyn's discreet, aren't you?"

She beamed and nodded. "Yes, of course."

"Well," said Harry. "The problem is that I'm here in my auror capacity. You see, I received a report that a Ministry of Magic employee was assaulted by a colleague, and that you might be able to help me figure out what happened."

The lighthearted expression on McLaggen's face disappeared. He stood, not quite meeting Harry's eyes as he responded.

"I'm not sure what all that's about. I don't think I'll be much help."

"Let's go somewhere private and we'll talk it over," said Harry. "Unless you'd rather come down to the auror's office with me."

McLaggen swallowed, pausing as though considering his options.

"I think there's an empty conference room at the end of the hall," he said at last. "We could speak there."

"Perfect," said Harry. "Lead the way."

Harry kept a hand hidden inside his pocket, wrapped around his wand as they walked. McLaggen had earned himself a spot on Harry's enemy list, and enemies were treated in the same manner as dark wizards by Harry: they were considered dangerous until neutralized.

His caution proved to be necessary when they stepped inside the conference room McLaggen had led them to. Harry closed the door behind them and watched, unimpressed, as McLaggen retrieved his wand from his robes.

It was as though the other man had forgotten that Harry had spent over half his life fighting dark wizards. McLaggen's past decade as a coddled Ministry employee did not make him a very strong adversary in comparison.

Harry didn't need to remove his own wand from his robes to handle the threat. He disarmed McLaggen with a flick of his wand from inside his pocket and cast a body-binding curse on him before the other man had a chance to utter a spell. McLaggen toppled to the ground with a resounding thud.

"Well, I guess the friendly chat is out the window now," said Harry conversationally. "But it will be difficult for us to have a proper talk while you're frozen, so I'm going to take your wand and tie you up before we continue."

He picked up McLaggen's wand from where it had fallen and slipped it into his pocket, before pulling out his own wand and casting incarcerous to bind thick ropes around him.

When McLaggen seemed appropriately contained, Harry lifted the body-binding curse.

"What the fuck, Potter?" bellowed McLaggen. "I don't know what Granger told you, but I didn't do anything to her."

Harry pulled out a chair from the table in the room and set it next to McLaggen before taking a seat.

"So you didn't pull her into an empty conference room and push her up against a wall then?"

McLaggen's indignation seemed to deflate a touch.

"I wouldn't say I pushed her. I just held her still for a moment. I needed to confirm something."

"And what exactly were you confirming?"

McLaggen's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You already know, don't you? I can sense that you're an alpha."

He added with a smirk. "You can never just not be chosen, can you?"

"What made you think you had the right to touch her at all?" asked Harry, anger creeping into his tone.

The way McLaggen had casually admitted to manhandling Hermione stirred the embers of rage he'd felt upon seeing her arrive at her desk, shaken and upset by whatever had transpired between the two of them.

"It's not like I planned it ahead of time," replied McLaggen, showing no remorse for his brazenness. "Don't tell me you haven't been affected by the way she smells. It's incredible…you can just tell she'd be the best fuck of your life. I actually showed a lot of restraint. It's irresponsible of her to come here so close to her heat, knowing how she would affect any alphas nearby. If you want to blame anyone, blame her."

Harry wondered whether McLaggen thought that Harry would feel some type of camaraderie with him over the fact that they were both alphas. If that was the case, he was sorely mistaken.

Harry got out of the chair to kneel on one knee next to McLaggen. He grabbed the ropes covering the other man's chest and yanked him up.

"I'm only going to say this once, so listen closely," he said. "You are going to stay the fuck away from Hermione going forward. You don't touch her. You don't talk to her. You don't look at her. If I find out that you've done any of those things, our next chat won't be as pleasant as this one. Is that clear enough to get through your dense skull?"

McLaggen let out a humorless laugh. "Wait a minute, is she yours? I didn't smell anyone on her. She smelled unclaimed, only pure omega pheromones."

Harry frowned. He was very tempted to punch the smug look off McLaggen's face just then. But he could imagine Hermione chiding him for it—not because she thought he was wrong for doing it, but because it fixed nothing and would only cause more problems for her.

"No one's claiming anyone," he replied. "That's the point. Hermione chooses if and when she wants to engage with you. And I'm fairly certain she won't want to engage with you at all."

Harry stood and expertly cast a diffindo to slice open the ropes holding McLaggen. A part of him wanted to leave him bound on the floor of the room, but, again, it would only draw unwanted attention to the situation.

"I'll leave your wand on your desk," he told McLaggen as he walked out the door.

The witch McLaggen had been talking to earlier was still at her desk when Harry walked past.

"Which one's McLaggen's desk?" he asked her. "He dropped his wand. I'll leave it there for him."

If she found his story suspicious, she didn't let on, simply pointing quietly to the desk across from hers. Harry gave her a nod in thanks and dropped off the wand on the desk she'd indicated.

He glanced at his watch. He still had a half hour left until he was due to teach a class on defensive maneuvers to a group of junior aurors. Harry picked up his pace, returning to the auror's office and striding past the holding cells and interrogation rooms until he reached the auror's desks at the back. Thankfully, the person he was seeking was sitting at her desk at the moment, a bored look on her face as she tackled a stack of paperwork.

"Hey Alicia," he said as he drew closer. "Do you have a minute?"

She looked up and gave him a rueful grin. "I shouldn't. I really need to get this paperwork done. But I'm also bored to tears with it, so go ahead, I'm listening."

"It's kind of private. Mind if we go to one of the interrogation rooms?"

Alicia's eyebrows raised, but she nodded. "Yeah, alright."

"What's on your mind?" she asked, once they'd settled into one of the soundproof rooms.

"I need a favor, and it will require a certain level of…discretion."

"I assume this is off the books then?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. You're the best investigator I know on the team. I was hoping you could help me look into Cormac McLaggen."

Alicia gave him a confused look. "He's already being vetted by the auror's office. Anyone considered for a job on Kingsley's staff gets vetted."

"Yeah, but that's just a routine background check. I want something more in-depth."

Alicia grinned knowingly. "You want to know what secrets he's hiding."

"Yeah, basically."

"Why?"

"I think he's going to try to cause some trouble, and I want to be prepared for it. I promise I won't use the information unless I have to, and this isn't something I'm taking lightly. I know it's a big ask. I'll owe you one."

Alicia simply stared at him for a moment, before nodding decisively. "Alright, I'll look into him. Give me a couple of weeks. I'll have to work it in when I'm off-duty."

Harry smiled. "Thanks. I'm in your debt."

"Yes, I know," she said with a grin. "Not sure how I'll collect on it yet, but don't be surprised if it has something to do with paperwork."

Harry groaned, but inwardly thought it a small price to pay for what he would be receiving in return.

~

He was exhausted by the time he returned to his flat that evening, despite it being a relatively uneventful day at work.

Even so, he wasn't ready to go to bed. The exhaustion he felt was less physical, and more mental. Now that his mind was no longer distracted by either McLaggen or work, Hermione popped into his thoughts unbidden, and he realized he was still feeling the physical discomfort of her absence. It was an undercurrent of want, his body restless and on edge, as though he'd forgotten something very important and couldn't relax until he remembered and took care of it. The sensation had assailed him from the moment he'd left her flat, although he'd ignored it throughout the rest of the day.

He wondered whether she was feeling the same thing. Was Hermione at her flat missing him, craving him, the way he was her?

Harry remembered how soft and enticing she had felt nestled up against him and how her scent had grown headier, muskier, when she'd become aroused by his closeness. It had driven him wild, bringing to mind how incredible she would feel if they gave in to their needs and went to bed together. Harry knew intuitively that her body would be unbelievably warm and supple, slick and wet for him.

He mentally reprimanded himself for thinking of her that way. McLaggen's objectification of Hermione had disgusted him; he didn't want to be guilty of doing the same thing.

Harry decided to take a shower to ease some of the tension in his body. As he removed his shirt, he brought the fabric up to his nose, wondering whether that was part of the problem; perhaps Hermione's scent still lingered there, and it had been trailing him all day, a low dose of pheromones keeping him in a state of excitation.

A sweet and intoxicating aroma greeted him as he sniffed the area around the collar of his shirt where her skin had grazed him as she'd leaned in to breathe him in. He let out a shuddering exhale as his body tensed in response.

Harry took the clothes and set them inside his washing machine before returning to his bathroom to shower. Perhaps his mind would clear further once he'd put some distance between himself and Hermione's scent.

The shower helped. Harry donned a comfortable pair of joggers and a t-shirt afterwards, leaving his dark hair damp as he ambled towards the kitchen to put together some supper for himself. It was easier to think now that the only thing he could smell was the inert fragrance of his soap and shampoo.

So when the urge to call Hermione surfaced as he ate his supper of leftover curry, he didn't question his motives the way he would have earlier. He'd told her he would check in on her and, remembering the way she'd looked as he stepped out of her flat that morning, he thought that was the appropriate thing for a friend to do.

"Hey Harry," she greeted him. Her voice sounded slightly breathy, and Harry learned then that even the inflection of her tone could affect him in unexpected ways.

"Hey," he replied. "How are you?"

She let out a little laugh. "As well as can be expected, I suppose."

He paused, his face heating as he debated whether to ask the next question.

"Are you—I mean, have you started your, er, you know?"

He heard her let out a heavy breath before saying, "Not quite yet, I don't think so."

"Ah, ok," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly. He remembered how his shower had helped calm his body and added, "I don't know if you've had a chance to shower since you've been home, but it might help if you aren't smelling…things."

He could almost hear her smile over the line.

"Yes, I did think of that, thanks. I showered a few hours ago."

"Oh, good."

The impulse welled up inside him to offer to come over. He could help her feel better, take care of her the way she needed. The thought of it made him ache with want. He bit back the words before they could escape.

"Alright, just let me know, if you need anything," he said, echoing the same refrain that had begun to signal the end of all their conversations lately.

"I will, thanks Harry."

He finished his supper after hanging up, barely tasting the food as he chewed it. His mind was unsettled. He was glad he hadn't offered to help Hermione with her heat over the phone. The thought that he might have swayed her in the moment would have left him feeling uneasy. But it didn't seem quite right to leave her to it all alone either. Harry had only experienced a taste of what she must be going through, and it had been challenging to bear. He could only imagine how awful it would be for her to endure an ever-growing need with no hope of relief.

Surely it wasn't wrong for him to offer her his assistance in that case.

Harry cleaned up his solitary dish and glass before fetching some parchment, an inkpot, and a quill from one of his cabinet drawers. He'd come to a decision on how to handle the situation.

If he wrote to her in a letter, and kept it brief and concise, he could offer his help without worrying about talking her into anything. He would send it via owl mail the next day. And Hermione would know she had options, whether she chose to use them or not.

He dipped his quill in the inkpot before bringing it to the parchment and penning his note.

Hermione,

If you send for me, you know I'll come.

Harry

He read the message over to himself several times, before deciding it was sufficiently transparent regarding his offer without pressuring her in any way. He put away his quill and folded the parchment into an envelope to send with the Ministry post once he arrived at work the following morning.

Chapter 8

Notes:

This chapter’s on the shorter side. I was originally planning to cover all three days of a certain event in one chapter, but it felt like it messed with the flow of the story a bit, so I’ve divided it up instead.

To her immense disappointment, Hermione discovered very quickly into her heat cycle that the effectiveness of calming draughts and dreamless sleep was greatly minimized by the changes in her biology.

"I knew that healer had no idea what she was talking about," she grumbled when she woke up a couple of hours after taking a liberal dose of dreamless sleep. In normal times, a dose like the one she'd taken would have ensured a full night's sleep for her. If it had only worked for a few hours so early into her heat, she suspected it would be useless for her later on.

Hermione got up from the bed, planning to have a cup of heavily doctored valerian tea to help her fall back asleep.

The cold air of her flat—she hadn't turned on the heat since the day her temperature had begun to rise—hit her skin as soon as she slid out from underneath the bedsheets; it felt like a soothing balm to her overheated body.

She was wearing a silky rose-colored pyjama set with a thin strappy top and tiny shorts. It was not the type of outfit she usually favored in the winter, but the thought of wearing anything heavier than that seemed suffocating to her at the moment. Even the soft, light material of the pyjamas felt abrasive against her overly sensitive and stimulated skin.

The strong smell of the valerian herb in the tea she brewed made her wrinkle her nose in disgust. She'd poured another dose of dreamless sleep in, along with a calming draught, but the medicinal odor of the valerian ruled. Her sense of smell was sharper overall now, making certain scents overpowering. She drank the tea in record time, gulping it down as quickly as she could once it had cooled enough to swallow without burning herself.

Hermione glanced at the clock on her kitchen wall. It was midnight. She heaved a sigh at what would undoubtedly be a long night of little sleep. The potions and tea were beginning to take the edge off her restlessness, but she still felt wired, her body tense with what could best be described as anticipation.

After rinsing out her teacup and putting it away, she returned to her bedroom. She didn't pull the covers over herself this time, instead rolling them away towards the foot of the bed and lying down with the cool air of her room enveloping her.

The effect of the tea and potions increased to the point that she was able to doze off for a short while before awakening again. There was no mistaking what had stirred her out of sleep this time. A wave of pure want rolled through her, making her draw up her legs as she felt her core heat and clench, craving stimulation.

It occurred to her that she might be able to satisfy the craving herself, and she slipped her fingers down to stroke herself, amazed as she observed how different she felt. She had never before been as warm or slippery as she was now.

Despite her obvious arousal, she wasn't able to orgasm. It remained just out of reach, a frustratingly elusive goal. Hermione groaned in defeat and pulled her fingers out of her shorts, rising from the bed and heading towards her en suite bathroom to wash her hands.

She'd just finished drying her hands with a towel when her eyes fell on the clothes hamper next to her shower. The dress and robes she'd worn the day before lay on top, still unwashed…still carrying Harry's scent.

Just thinking about smelling him again caused a rush of warmth between her legs. Hermione stood motionless for a moment, eyeing the clothes indecisively. It might make her worse to smell them…or it could help her get enough relief to get some sleep.

Her feet seemed to move of their own volition as she eventually made her way to the hamper, picking up the clothes and bringing them up to her nose. A low moan escaped her as the scent wound its way inside her, making her nearly vibrate with need.

Hermione brought the clothes to bed with her, turning on her side so that she could keep her face pressed against the fabric as her fingers once again traced a path downwards. It was impossible to separate Harry's scent from thoughts of him, and Hermione guiltily let herself imagine him there with her as she touched herself until she finally reached her peak. Relief flooded her afterwards, the tense energy in her body finally dissipating enough to allow sleep to claim her.

~

Hermione was dismayed to find that the effectiveness of her Harry-scented clothes began to wane by noon the following day.

The waves of need had begun to come in regular intervals by then, assaulting her body every few hours with a level of craving that wouldn't be ignored. Her attempts to simply distract herself from the sensation failed miserably. The words blurred together when she tried to read, and her mind quickly lost the plot when she tried to watch television. Despite her mortification at using Harry's scent and mental image to feed the urges, Hermione would have continued on with this approach if it hadn't ceased to work.

She threw the clothes across the room with a frustrated yell when her final attempt to pacify her want only left her more heated. Her head flopped back on to her pillow in defeat, wondering just how much worse things were going to get. The omega's journal she'd read had stated that heats typically lasted three days, with the symptoms increasing in both frequency and strength until they reached their peak, followed by a gradual descent to normalcy. This information did not bode well for Hermione. Her heat had only just begun and it was already driving her mad.

She was so frustrated that it took her a few minutes to register the tapping sound at her bedroom window.

When the noise finally drew her attention, she turned to face the window and was startled to find a ministry owl there, standing on the ledge outside with a message attached to it.

Hermione had no idea who the message could be from. She had already sent her leave requests to her supervisors the previous day and received approval for her time off. It was unlikely that anyone from work would follow up after that.

She stood and crossed the space to the window, opening it and retrieving the letter from the owl.

Her name on the envelope was written in Harry's typical scrawl. Hermione stared at it in confusion. Harry never owled her. Phone calls and texts had been their method of communication for years now. It was how she would have expected to hear from him.

But he'd gone off script this time. He’d sent her the message via owl instead. Hermione understood why when she slipped the piece of parchment out of its envelope and read it.

Hermione,

If you send for me, you know I'll come.

Harry

He was giving her time to consider his offer. There was less of a sense of urgency in responding to his owl than what she would have felt if he'd texted instead. And she was grateful to him for thinking of it. If he'd called or texted, she didn't think she would have been strong enough to pause and think about his offer before saying yes. And she did want to think about it…because accepting his help would inevitably change their relationship.

Hermione folded the letter and set it gently on her nightstand. She felt surprisingly better. The gnawing need was still there, but her despair had lifted. She had an out, if she chose it. If things became unbearable, Harry would be her lifeline. It wasn't a choice she would take lightly, but knowing that she had it available to her calmed her soul immeasurably.

~

Hermione resisted the urge to reach out to Harry for the rest of the day. She had decided she possessed the willpower to get through this without risking her friendship with Harry.

The use of intermittent cold showers interspersed with cups of her concoction of sedating teas and potions kept her going until nightfall. She was even able to make it through an episode of a crime drama on the television with a vague idea of what was happening in the story.

It was as she prepared to go to bed that night that she reached her breaking point. Her hands were nearly shaking as she pulled off the joggers and light t-shirt she'd worn during the day. The thought of wearing anything at all was beginning to seem more and more unpleasant, but the idea of lying naked on her bed without any type of cover made her ache even more for some reason. She pulled out a light blue teddy nightgown from her dresser drawer and slipped it on. It barely covered anything, but it made her feel less wanton than going sans clothing.

Her body wouldn't stop trembling as she eased onto her bed. She tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable, but it was to no avail. Her latest cup of sedating tea had been completely ineffective, and Hermione knew she wouldn't get a wink of sleep in the state she was in.

Her eyes drifted over to the nightstand and Harry's letter. She sat up in bed, reaching over for the parchment and unfolding it to reread the contents. She remembered what it said, of course; the words were seared into her brain. But she felt the need to reassure herself that she wasn't misremembering, that her heat hadn't addled her mind to the point that she was imagining things.

Hermione sat curled up on the bed for a while longer, the parchment gripped in her hands as her body betrayed her by making her ache for things she shouldn't want.

It was only when her need overrode her sense of embarrassment that Hermione placed the piece of parchment back on her nightstand, exchanging it for her mobile.

She was shaking to such an extent that it took her a few minutes to type out the text.

Harry, please come.

~

He apparated into her living room. Hermione heard the pop of apparition, followed by the sound of his footsteps moving around.

"Hermione?" he called out.

She wrapped her arms around herself, still curled up in the middle of her bed. Getting up to greet him wasn't an option. Just the sound of his voice—the knowledge that he was here in her home—had affected her in a visceral manner. She could feel heat pooling between her legs, slick soaking the lace of her knickers. If she went to him, there was no telling what she would do.

"In here," she called back, resting her chin on her knees.

The door to her bedroom opened a minute later and Harry's form came into view. He was dressed in a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans…and he was barefoot. Even in her frenzied state, she had the presence of mind to wonder whether she'd awoken him from sleep or if he'd been waiting to hear from her. The latter option made another shiver of want pass through her.

Harry stood at the door for a moment, just staring at her. The expression on his face shifted from concern to something else, something that made him exhale sharply and close his eyes, as though trying to regain control.

"It's…er…you're scent," he said finally, his words strained. "It's so strong now."

She nodded jerkily. "I know. I tried…not to call you. But it's too much."

Her final words were said in a low voice, tinged with the little embarrassment she had left.

Harry opened his eyes and fixed his gaze on her with an intensity that took her breath away. He closed the space between them, coming to sit beside her on the bed, her mattress dipping slightly as he joined her.

"It's ok," he said, his tone gentle although his expression hinted at his fragile self-control in that moment. She noticed a shudder pass through him as he took in a breath. "It's ok, Hermione. I didn't want you to suffer when I can help you. We'll get through this."

The final remnants of her sense of propriety vanished then, and she unwound her arms from where they'd been curled around her legs, lifting her body up so she could slip off her nightgown first, followed by her knickers. She dropped both items unceremoniously on the floor beside the bed.

A shuddering exhale escaped Harry as he drank her in. The sound made her core clench in response. Hermione felt the brazen urge to lie back and spread her legs for him in invitation, but she fought it. She wanted to be able to still look him in the eye after this was over.

Harry stood to strip off his own clothes. Hermione watched transfixed, as he shed each layer of clothing. The sound of his jeans unzipping drew a small whimper from her, and she curled up again with her knees drawn against her chest, feeling her restraint quickly slipping away.

When he rejoined her on the bed, tentatively leaning towards her, she gave in to her instincts and lay on her back, opening for him.

Harry's frame covered hers, his face dipping down into the hollow of her throat and inhaling deeply. She gasped when his lips pressed gently against the scent gland above her collarbone and her entire body arched up against him as he licked a light path up across her gland to her lower neck.

She didn't need more foreplay. Her body had never been more ready than it was now. Hermione slipped her hand down to wrap around him and guide him to her entrance. Harry's head dropped against her shoulder with a low groan at the sensation.

Hermione could have sobbed with relief when he sank inside her. The aching need was finally being satisfied. He fit her perfectly, filling her in a way that was nearly overwhelming in its perfection.

Nothing had ever felt better than Harry did in that moment. His scent engulfed her, evoking a myriad of feelings within her; desire and comfort coexisted in a delightful blend that eased the tension from her body, leaving bliss in its place. She fell into an easy rhythm with him, her hips swaying up to meet him, both of them lost in the sensation.

Hermione was close to the edge when she felt something change. Harry's rhythm faltered first, and she almost asked him to keep going, her mouth opening to tell him just how close she was to finishing. But then the feeling of him inside her changed. She felt increasing pressure as he began to swell, the growing fullness rubbing pleasantly against her most sensitive areas.

"Ah, fuck, fuck," breathed Harry. "That does feel amazing."

Hermione only dimly registered his words. Her climax washed over her then in an all-encompassing wave, making her arch against him as the pleasure seemed to inundate every cell of her body.

She felt the warm wetness of Harry coming inside her. The sensation seemed to make her aftershocks stronger, her body clenching around him in an ebbing rhythm.

When she was finally able to speak again, she asked hesitantly, "Is that—did you knot? Like alpha knotting?"

Harry's forehead had been resting to the side of her on her pillow, but he lifted his head at her question and looked at her, their faces mere inches away from each other.

"Yeah. Er, we won't be able to…separate until it goes back down."

"Oh," she said. Hermione had expected to feel embarrassed after what they'd done, but she was currently floating on a cloud of feel-good hormones and only felt relaxed…and a little sleepy. "How long does it last?"

Harry chuckled. "I have no idea. It's never happened before. I think it can only happen during a heat cycle with an omega."

His gaze swept over her, and he added, "You look tired. Here, I'm going to roll us over, alright? You can rest."

"Mm-hmm," she replied, smothering a yawn.

Harry maneuvered them slightly until he had them in a good position to carefully flip them over. Now that she was draped over him, Hermione tucked her head against his chest and stopped fighting the drowsiness, letting it quickly lull her to sleep.

Notes:

Thank you all so much for the kudos and comments!

Chapter 9

As it turned out, the embarrassment Hermione had been expecting eventually made its appearance. It arrived with a force when she awoke to find herself sprawled out naked on top of Harry. Her head was resting sideways on his chest, softly rising and falling along with the movement of his breaths.

She eased herself up as gently and quietly as possible, trying not to wake him as she moved to lie beside him on the bed. The lamp on her bedside table was still on, casting a warm light over them both. The bedsheets were bunched up at the foot of the bed, leaving them both completely bare.

Hermione reached down to take hold of the bedsheet, pulling it up to cover them, her movements slow and controlled in the hopes that Harry would sleep through the change. A part of her dreaded facing him after the way she'd all but thrown herself at him before. Just the thought of it made her cheeks burn with shame.

Once they were both covered by the sheet, Hermione lay on her side, her body turned towards Harry and her eyes fixed on his face. He wasn't wearing his glasses. She assumed he must have removed them some time after she'd fallen asleep. They were currently sitting folded on her nightstand.

He looked so different without them. She didn't think he looked better or worse, simply different, unfamiliar. Hermione wondered if the green of his eyes would look more vibrant without the lens of his glasses covering them.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you it's creepy to stare at people while they sleep?" said Harry, his lips tugging up into a smirk. Hermione nearly yelped in surprise.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked, her tone slightly accusing.

Harry opened his eyes and turned to look at her. "Since about the time you rolled off of me."

Hermione's cheeks reddened. "You could have said something."

He shrugged. "I thought you might need a minute."

He was right, actually. She felt more at ease speaking to him now than she would have felt if he'd said something while she was still lying naked on him.

"Maybe," she assented, then asked curiously, "Can you see me without your glasses on?"

Harry laughed, the action making his eyes crinkle boyishly. "I'm not blind Hermione. Yeah, I can see you just fine from this range."

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "I wasn't sure. I just remembered your vision being awful when we were younger."

"It still is," he affirmed. "But only when things are farther away."

"Ah."

She looked away then, gathering the bedsheet a little closer to her chest. When they'd first begun talking, that throbbing need inside her had been mild, a mere tingle she could easily ignore. But interacting with Harry, and knowing that they were both naked underneath the bedsheet, was making the warmth begin to build in her body again. Her eyes fell on the lightly muscled plane of his chest; the sight stoked the fire inside her and she turned on her back to gaze at the ceiling instead, seeking a neutral view that wouldn't worsen her libidinous state.

"How are you feeling?" asked Harry quietly.

"Better, thanks," she replied. She cleared her throat and added, "I don't know if I thanked you earlier…for coming over."

"It's fine, really. No need to thank me. I've actually been a little worried that you might think I was taking advantage of you."

Hermione's head snapped over to look at him. "What? Why would you think that?"

"Because you might not be thinking very clearly right now," replied Harry, his expression somber.

"No, I'm—my mind is clear enough. I just can't control my body at the moment," she said with a sigh.

Harry nodded. "I can relate."

A slight grin came over Hermione's face. "Really?"

"I told you before…that if I stayed you'd drive me into a rut right? Well, you did. It's taking all my willpower not to reach for you right now."

A shiver rolled down Hermione's back at his declaration. "Me too."

Harry's expression seemed almost pained at hearing her admission that she wanted him too. His eyes roamed down from her face to the bare skin visible above the bedsheet and further down, gazing longingly at the parts of her that were currently covered.

"I forgot before," he said, his eyes returning to her face. "To cast a contraceptive charm."

"Oh, that's alright. I'm on the pill and the potion."

Harry's brows shot up. "Both? Isn't that a bit excessive?"

Hermione shrugged. "Honestly, I was already on the pill when I found out I was an omega, and I started the potion immediately after finding out. I hoped it might help temper the symptoms."

"Maybe it did," mused Harry. "Who knows if it would have been more intense otherwise."

"Perhaps."

Hermione desperately wanted to close the space between them and press her naked form against his, but embarrassment held her back. She had been so consumed with need earlier that it had overridden any awkwardness she might be feeling. But now that the need was weaker, her mind was overthinking the situation, wondering what he would think of her.

"If you're feeling another…wave, we can take care of it, like we did earlier," said Harry, broaching the topic that seemed to be at the forefront of both their thoughts.

It gave her the opening she needed, neutral words to ask for what she wanted without sacrificing her dignity.

"I am," she admitted. "It's starting to build again."

Hermione loosened her hold on the bedsheet against her, and rolled towards him, not touching him yet, but close enough that she could feel his body heat. Her skin vibrated with awareness.

Harry's gaze dropped down to her breasts, visible now through a gap between the bedsheet and her body. Hermione's breath quickened. She wanted him to touch her. The thought—and Harry's attention—made her nipples feel more sensitive, the peaks stiffening in response. To her relief, Harry seemed to sense what she wanted, because his hand moved to her side, trailing a slow path upwards until his warm palm closed over her breast.

When she reacted by leaning into his touch, Harry grew bolder, letting his hand explore the soft skin, his fingers gently caressing the sensitive peak in a way that made her whimper. Harry's mouth soon followed his hands. He teased one nipple with his lips while his thumb continued to trace circles on the other.

"I need you now," panted Hermione just a minute later. The heat had built quickly under his ministrations, and she was aching for him to fill her as he'd done before.

It was hot and urgent again, bodies meeting in a desperate rhythm, each thrust exquisitely pleasurable. The only sounds were heated exhales, muffled whimpers, and the wet slide of their bodies colliding. Hermione's inhibitions retreated once more, her thoughts growing quiet as her body's instinctual need took over.

She came before he did, but her orgasm seemed to summon his. She'd just ridden out the crest of the wave when she felt him begin to thicken inside her.

Harry pulled out this time, moving quickly as the change began, and groaning as he spilled onto her stomach instead.

It felt wrong. Hermione felt the wrongness of it in a primal, visceral way. She didn't experience that wave of euphoric biological chemicals in the aftermath as she had the first time, and she suspected it was because of how their encounter had ended.

"Sorry," said Harry. "I'll, er, clean you up."

He summoned his wand and vanished the mess from her stomach.

"Should I turn off the lamp?" he asked, after setting his wand on the nightstand.

"Sure," she replied. Harry flicked off the light, leaving them lying side by side in the darkness.

"Is there a reason why you pulled out at the end?" she finally gathered the courage to ask. It was still pestering her, the question rolling over in her thoughts as she tried to relax.

She heard Harry sigh. "I wasn't sure whether you'd want me to keep knotting inside you. I know it can be a little…intense. I feel pulled in two directions right now. The alpha side of me wants one thing, but another part of me is trying to be a respectful friend through this all."

Hermione let out a huff of laughter. "I've been feeling the same way. I'm trying not do anything that will be embarrassing for us going forward, but it's interfering with what I naturally want."

She could hear the smile in Harry's voice as he said, "It's probably a safe bet that our alpha and omega sides are wanting the same thing."

"Yes, I think so as well," she said. She paused for a moment before adding, "Maybe we just let those sides take over for now, instead of overthinking things? Neither of us would ever do anything to hurt each other. We could try to stop worrying about how awkward and embarrassing everything will be after this heat ends and just do what feels natural."

"I would like that," said Harry. "But if there's anything in particular that you don't want me to do, it's probably best if you to tell me now."

"There's only one thing," said Hermione, remembering what the healers had told her at St. Mungo's. "As things get more intense, it might become tempting to perform a mating bite. That's the only thing I think we should agree to avoid."

"Right, yeah, of course," said Harry. "If the urge should arise, I'll resist it."

"Good, so will I."

~

When Hermione awoke the next time, the first rays of grey sunlight had begun to stream in through her window.

Harry's hand was on her shoulder, gently shaking her.

"Hey," he said, upon seeing her eyes open. "You were thrashing in your sleep. I wasn't sure whether you were having a nightmare."

Her body was flushed and tense, already in the midst of another wave of heat. It must have begun as she was still asleep.

"No," she grit out. "Just another wave."

She didn't stop to think before moving towards him, pressing up hungrily against him, her lips finding his scent gland and kissing it softly before working their way up towards his jaw.

The kiss happened before her mind caught up to her body. Harry froze, startled, as her mouth found his, and Hermione remembered herself. Kissing wasn't necessary to satisfy their body's urges. She'd crossed a line.

She pulled back a little, ready to apologize for the faux pas, but Harry's lips silenced the words. He began kissing her, tentatively at first, but with increasing confidence as she reciprocated, alternating soft, gentle kisses with deeper, more passionate ones.

They were still kissing as he pushed inside her, and something about it felt different to Hermione this time around. The kissing brought a new element to their joining, a closeness that hadn't quite been there before. She felt less like an omega in that moment, and more like Hermione…having sex with Harry.

Harry paused, his head pulling up to gaze down at her, and his expression seemed to carry that same realization. He dropped one more kiss on her lips before beginning to move, in a slow and tender rhythm that made Hermione ache in a way that had nothing to do with the hormones surging through her.

He remained inside her as he finished, the pressure and fullness of his knot bringing her over the edge as well. They quietly readjusted themselves afterwards, ending up on their sides, their legs intertwined in a position that was comfortable for both.

Hermione tucked her head in the crook of his neck as the drowsiness began to settle in, grateful for the reprieve of sleep. She felt emotionally raw and exposed, the feelings too fresh and new to delve into at the moment.

~

The next time Harry woke her, the sun had fully risen, bathing her room in soft light.

"I brought you some tea," he said, gesturing towards a small tray on her nightstand. "And toast with jam."

She blinked blearily at him for a moment. He was wearing jeans now, but still shirtless, and his hair looked a little damp.

"Did you shower?" she asked, sitting up and pulling the bedsheet up with her.

He nodded. "I needed to send a patronus to work to let them know I'd be absent for a few days."

He grinned sheepishly as he added. "And I was having trouble thinking, so I took a shower to clear my head."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you for the tea and toast."

"You're welcome," said Harry. "I'm going to step out to the living room while you eat. I should send Ron a message too. He'll worry if we both drop off the face of the earth for several days."

Hermione nodded around a sip of tea. "What are you going to tell him?"

"That you're sick, and I'm taking care of you," replied Harry. "I thought that might be the easiest excuse."

She knew he probably didn't love the idea of lying to Ron, and she appreciated the fact that he was willing to do so to preserve her privacy.

"Thanks, Harry," she told him. He gave her a little smile and nodded in acknowledgement before stepping out of the room.

Hermione finished her tea and toast and slipped out of the bed, deciding to take a shower of her own. A part of her—definitely the omega part—had felt uneasy upon realizing that Harry might no longer smell like her. Rationally, she knew this was ridiculous. But instinctively, she wanted to leave her imprint on him, to cover him in her scent until it clung to him, marking him as hers.

The burning returned just as she was finishing her shower. By the time she finished toweling off, she was craving Harry with an intensity that took her breath away.

He was waiting for her in her room, shrugging out of his jeans and pants as she stepped through the doorway of the bathroom.

"I could sense it," he said simply, meeting her halfway, his body wrapping around hers as she wantonly kissed him.

When they moved towards the bed, Hermione quickly rolled on top of him, impatient to feel him inside her. The sensation of him sliding into her was beginning to feel familiar, but it still drew a little gasp of pleasure from her each time.

Her hair dripped droplets of water onto her body and his torso as she rode him; the sudden onset of this wave of need had prevented her from casting a drying charm.

Harry's hands reached up to cover the drops of water on her chest, lightly rubbing the moisture into her skin.

She came quickly in this position. The deeper angle provided a new type of stimulation that rapidly drove her to orgasm.

Once the spasms had begun to subside, she began moving again, slower and more controlled this time. She could feel it as Harry's orgasm approached. His fingers dug lightly into her hips, and his breaths became more ragged.

"Fuck, you feel so incredible," he murmured. Hermione warmed at the praise, pleased to know she was making him feel that way.

He let out a low moan when he began to swell inside her, and she felt him pulling her down more firmly against him, as though securing her in place as he spilled inside her.

She wanted to collapse on top of him afterwards, but she was still dripping water.

"Accio wand," she said, and reached her hand out to catch her wand as it flew towards her. She cast a quick drying spell on her hair before setting the wand aside and lying down on top of Harry, tiredness setting in despite the early hour of the day.

She could have sworn she felt Harry's lips press a kiss to the top of her head as she dozed off.

~

By the time nightfall arrived, the gap between the waves of heat had shortened to an hour-long window. Each time they came together, Hermione felt perfectly content and satisfied at the end, certain that she wouldn't need him again for a while. But when the next wave arrived, her need would be just as strong and urgent, pushing her towards Harry with a fervent desperation. He was always ready for her, his body attuned to hers with a preternatural precision.

It was sometime in the middle of the night that she first felt the temptation to bite him. She'd burrowed her nose into the hollow of his neck, breathing him in as they moved together, and the desire to sink her teeth into his scent gland slammed into her. She wanted to bite him hard enough to mark him, to make him hers forever.

Her mind tried to rationalize the animalistic urge. Harry wouldn't mind. They loved each other. Why shouldn't they be together?

Hermione pulled back from him with a frustrated whine.

"You're feeling it too?" rasped Harry, halting his movements. "The temptation to…"

He trailed off, and Hermione knew why. Voicing what they wanted was dangerous. It opened the door to normalizing it, to considering it as an actual possibility.

"Yes."

Harry let out a shuddering breath. "We'll be strong together, yeah?"

She swallowed and nodded, fortified by his encouragement. "Yes."

~

The descent began shortly after daybreak. Hermione could feel the change in her body, the need growing less pressing, more spaced out.

The day resumed more of a normal routine, which brought with it some of the awkwardness they had shed when their bodies had been driving their actions.

Hermione put on a t-shirt and a pair of comfy shorts after her shower that morning, joining Harry in the kitchen for breakfast. He still only had the clothes he'd come in, but he hadn't worn them very much in that time, so a quick scourgify left them fresh enough to wear again.

"Eggs?" he offered as she put the kettle on. "I saw some in your fridge and was planning to make some for myself. If you don't mind, of course."

Hermione smiled. "Of course, I don't mind. Help yourself. And, yes, that sounds lovely. Thank you."

She heated up some toast to accompany the eggs and brewed two cups of tea for them.

"I didn't get a chance to ask how you're meeting with Kingsley went," said Harry as they sat down to eat together. It was surreal, how ordinary their conversation was in light of how they'd spent the last day, but Hermione wasn't ready to unpack the change in their relationship at the moment, and she assumed Harry was feeling the same way. It was comforting to have him still relate to her as her friend.

"It went well," she replied. "We're in the end stages of the process. Once I get back to the office, I'll need to prepare a portfolio of my work, something that showcases my accomplishments, and he'll use that for his final deliberation."

"I'm sure you'll get it," said Harry. "Your work speaks for itself."

"Hopefully," she said with a shrug. "Politics isn't as straightforward as that, unfortunately. And McLaggen's bound to make things difficult."

"Speaking of McLaggen," said Harry, his expression sober. "I had a talk with him."

"Oh, Harry. I didn't mean for you to get involved."

"I know, but I couldn't just leave it like that. He crossed a line when he put his hands on you. Don't worry, I didn't do anything extreme. Just asked him nicely to leave you alone."

Hermione grinned in spite of herself. "Nicely?"

Harry laughed. "I mean, he might have been tied up on the floor at the time, but that was his own doing. I was very polite, all things considered."

"And I asked Alicia to look into him," he added.

Hermione swallowed a bite of her toast. "Why?"

"Like you said, politics is a tricky game. McLaggen knows how to play it. We should be prepared as well."

Hermione stared at him, feeling warmth course through her again as she took in the calm certainty in his expression while he insinuated that he was in this battle with her, supporting her in every facet of her life. The warmth wasn't just sexual this time though, it wrapped around her heart, stirring feelings of deep affection within her.

"Thanks Harry," she said simply.

"Of course," he replied. "I'm glad I can help."

~

The final wave happened that evening. They'd had several during the day, a gentle rise in need that interrrupted the show they were watching, or caused them to finish their meal quickly so they could return to the bedroom.

It arrived slowly enough that they were able to get ready for bed and settle under the covers together with the lights off before attending to it.

Hermione slid towards him, kissing him softly and easing on top of him. She moved slowly after slipping him inside her, a part of her wanting to draw it out. Harry didn't seem to be in any rush either, his hands exploring her body in a languid fashion, touches meant to be more soothing than ardorous.

When her peak arrived, it was soft and gentle, rather than the overwhelming rush of earlier. Harry finished a little after. He didn't knot this time, a sign that her heat was truly over. Hermione felt a pang of longing at that, at the thought that he was no longer hers.

"Do you want me to head home?" he asked quietly in the darkness.

"Do you want to go home?"

"Only if you want me to."

Hermione swallowed. Perhaps it was selfish of her. She'd kept him captive for the better part of three days, but the thought of him leaving her in that moment was deeply unpleasant.

"I wouldn't mind if you stayed the night," she replied. "I mean, I would like it. If it doesn't inconvenience you."

"I would like it too," said Harry.

And despite her heat being over, Harry still seemed remarkably attuned to her, because he pulled her in against him, his body wrapped around hers with his chin resting on the top of her head, just like she needed.