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“You should ask Draco.”
“No, Gin. You know I can’t do that.”
Hermione avoids looking at her friend, busying herself instead with chopping the vegetables in front of her as the two of them prepare dinner.
“Why not?” Ginny asks. “You’re single. He’s single. You can’t keep doing this alone.”
It takes every ounce of self-control that Hermione possesses to swallow her scathing retort.
After all, it’s not as though Ginny, a beta married to a beta, could ever understand.
Yet, at the end of the day, her friend is right and Hermione…
Well, she’s frustrated and bitter and those emotions are simply seeking an outlet. There’s no reason to start a fight when Ginny is merely trying to help, to offer support in what is a rather delicate issue.
So instead of giving in to her angry urges, Hermione settles on, “He hates me.”
Ginny opens her mouth to respond, but before she can, Hermione continues.
“I know what you and Blaise think— That we only have to spend more time together to discover all the things we share in common. But that’s the thing… Draco doesn’t want to be in a room with me long enough to get to know me. I don’t know whether it’s blood prejudice—”
“That’s not fair,” Ginny interjects. “You know he has worked tirelessly to atone for his past.”
And yet he has never even so much as apologised to me, Hermione thinks to herself.
She bites her tongue again, though.
Despite the animosity she feels toward Draco, he and Ginny have become close in the years since they left Hogwarts. It helps that Ginny has been in a relationship with his best friend for nearly that entire time, allowing for the two of them to get to know one another better.
And beyond that, their former childhood bully is well-liked and respected amongst her friend circle.
It seems Hermione is the only one left with lingering resentment.
“Will you at least think about it?” Ginny asks.
“I suppose,” Hermione says, sighing.
She won’t, but there’s no use in continuing the conversation.
When students began presenting as Alphas and omegas during the Hogwarts eighth year, it initially caught the wizarding world by surprise. Those designations had become a rarity in Britain over the past century, with numerous populations of the magical generations presenting as betas.
No one quite knew why the sudden shift occurred, though it was assumed that the recent wars that had plagued their society likely played a role.
As it was, Hermione was one of the first in her class to present as an omega.
And after Harry presented as an Alpha, she assumed that the two of them were inevitable.
It wasn’t that she was particularly drawn to Harry or that she had ever seen him as more than a friend, but he was better than the other alternatives.
Then, he announced that Theo was his mate.
Even if she was disappointed, she could hardly begrudge Harry the happiness that he deserved. It quickly became apparent how well-matched he and Theo were, and Hermione couldn’t help but wonder if she would soon find her own mate, too.
One by one, the other Alphas and omegas in their generation began to match up, except for Hermione. Soon, she was the only unpaired omega.
And given that the final remaining Alpha recoiled in disgust any time she was in the same remote vicinity as him, Hermione resigned herself to the knowledge that she would never experience the same bond that all her friends and classmates were fortunate enough to have.
For a while, she tried to find fulfilment in relationships with betas.
First, it was Ron. Given their history, it just made sense. The inability to make her come was too hard a blow for his ego, though.
Next came Cormac who had such little regard for her pleasure that he didn’t even seem to notice that she never finished. Eventually, that arrangement became too tiresome, even if it wasn’t beset with the same difficulties she had with Ron.
And after becoming aware of what the heat cycle actually entailed, Hermione was forced to grapple with the terrifying reality of her situation.
If she had thought that regular sex was unsatisfying, it became painfully clear how desperately she needed an Alpha for the duration of her cycle. No beta would ever be enough.
The only saving grace was that heats happened twice a year and with Muggle dildos that inflated at the base the way a knot would, she was able to get by unmated.
Hermione truly has no intention of considering Draco as an option for her upcoming heat.
She hasn’t ever thought of him as a legitimate option, since he always made it clear how repulsive he finds her. It appears her very scent is offensive to him, if his reactions to her over the years are any indication.
And given that she managed to survive three years of cycles without the aid of an Alpha, she doesn’t see why she would need one now.
Yes, Ginny did have a point in that it is becoming increasingly difficult.
However, Hermione has become especially adept at avoiding and denying what was a rather integral part of her.
Her identity as an omega has such little bearing on her day to day life that it’s easy to not think about. When she isn’t in heat, she merely pretends as if her designation doesn’t exist.
And when she is, all her energy is focused on survival.
It doesn’t matter that she can’t orgasm on her own during the heat cycle, or that her emotional needs are left unmet. She can and will continue to do this on her own.
It also doesn’t matter that Draco smells better than anyone she’s ever met or that he remains one of the few unmated Alphas. She can’t imagine debasing herself so severely by setting aside her pride and asking for his help.
He doesn’t want her.
He doesn’t even like her.
Besides, there are some Alphas within her larger age group, ones that were a year or two behind her at Hogwarts, and have since presented.
So it isn’t like she doesn’t have any alternative. While there wasn’t any spark between the ones she made the effort to meet, she could always seek them out again if the situation becomes dire.
It isn’t necessary, though.
She hasn’t reached the point of desperation so as to find someone to assist through her heats, regardless of what her friends might think.
Hermione knows they mean well and want to see her happy, but it’s a bit frustrating that they seem to think the only way to achieve fulfilment is with an Alpha.
As much as she had always tried to deny the pull she felt toward Draco, Hermione had thought of him during her heats.
The initial cycle happened near the end of her eighth year, almost a full year after she presented. Although designations typically became apparent between the ages of seventeen to twenty-one, the time it took before an Alpha or omega reached maturity was far more varied.
Some experienced a rut or heat cycle almost immediately after presenting.
For others, it took anywhere from one to two years.
And although Hermione had been given adequate resources on designations to understand her new biology, nothing could have ever prepared her for what it was like to be in heat. No amount of reading and research was able to capture the exquisite pain she felt, an excruciating emptiness that only an Alpha could fill.
Hermione would never admit it to a single soul, but images of his long fingers had haunted her waking moments as an unquenchable fire raced through her veins.
She wondered what it might be like if Draco was her Alpha, cherishing and caring for her the way Alphas were meant to provide for omegas.
It was a ludicrous notion, but the flood of hormones in her system couldn’t process the fact that Draco was her enemy. He was never a viable option.
And when she cried out his name at the peak of her cycle, he was not there to answer her call.
Surely he would end up with a pureblood omega, if not from their year then he would probably wait until a suitable match reached maturity.
When she wasn’t in heat, she was well aware of the fact that however much Draco might have changed, there was never a world in which he might see her as a desirable mate.
When the Speciality Healer tells her that she really should consider enrolling in a program to help her find an Alpha partner, Hermione laughs.
It must be a joke, right?
Considering the advancements in magic, surely they have moved past the need for mates. Of course, having an Alpha would make it easier. It isn’t like she’ll die without one, though.
There must be some sort of treatment to make it less painful to endure the cycle.
She soon learns that no, the research has not progressed to that point.
And, as such, Hermione remains at the mercy of her biology. While she can continue to endure the heats alone, it will soon become unbearable to the point of posing risks to her physical health and mental wellbeing. No, she won’t die. However, she may find herself with any combination of various long-term consequences as a result of remaining unmated.
With that prognosis, Hermione has little choice but to consider the options.
Unfortunately, she makes the mistake of telling Ginny.
And because her friend has never been able to keep her mouth shut, Hermione is startled from a book on a lazy Saturday afternoon by a knock on her door. Her brows knit together in confusion as she crosses her flat to see who’s visiting.
All her friends are either able to Apparate past her wards or Floo into her living room, which makes the visitor at her door an odd occurrence.
She isn’t sure what she was expecting when she opened the door.
It certainly wasn’t Draco, though.
Hermione can count the number of times he’s been to her flat on one hand. If it’s her turn to host their friends, he nearly always makes an excuse for why he can’t attend.
“What do you want, Malfoy?”
While she doesn’t mean to seem impolite, there’s no use in wasting time on pleasantries.
“I, er—”
A blush heats his cheeks.
Hermione hates how well he wears it.
“Ginevra sent me over,” he finally manages.
“Oh, no,” Hermione groans. “She didn’t.”
Draco moves his head in a jerky nod, finally meeting her eye for the first time in the interaction. Hermione has never seen him so nervous and she can’t help but react to the cloud of pheromones he’s releasing in his anxious state.
Her own heart starts pounding wildly against her chest as sweat pools on her hands.
“She said the situation was dire,” Draco continues, glancing back down at his feet, “and she told me I would be banished from the group if I—”
“She blackmailed you into coming here? Merlin and Morgana, I’m going to fucking kill her.”
After Harry and Theo got together, it was inevitable that the friendship groups would merge even after they had completed their final year at Hogwarts.
Friday evenings at the pub and Saturday mornings at the Quidditch pitch were regular occurrences, not to mention dinner parties and holidays spent together.
Some of them didn’t have families, like Hermione, Harry, and Theo. Pansy and Draco no longer spoke to their families. Ron, Ginny, Blaise, Daphne, and Neville still had family obligations, but were always around, too.
At the end of the day, no one could truly understand what they had gone through during the war, but the group of them seemed to be able to empathise with one another better than most.
This left them to lean on each other.
Yet, in all the time she and Draco have spent together over the years in relatively close proximity, he never once tried to talk to her beyond polite greetings. She knew that he apologised to Harry long ago, thanking him for the role he played in Draco’s trial and subsequent release.
Even Ron and Neville came to be on amicable terms with Draco, who expressed his regret for how cruel he was when they were children.
However, any time he had the opportunity to actually have a conversation with Hermione, Draco left the room or threw himself into some other task.
It would be dishonest to say that she hadn't been hurt by his behaviour in the beginning.
She wondered whether he might still secretly harbour the prejudice from his youth, despite all the claims Draco made to have abandoned the values that his father had instilled in him.
Time proved her wrong.
Beyond spending countless hours and throwing his entire fortune behind efforts toward reformation and education of the society at large, Draco had befriended other Muggle-borns.
So it was just Hermione that he continued to have problems with.
For the life of her, she could never figure out why.
“We don’t have to do this,” Hermione says for the umpteenth time.
It’s the second time she has spent more than a few minutes in Draco’s company and she has no idea how to behave or what to talk about. So, it’s natural for her to settle on repeating the same sentiment she has tried to express again and again.
“I know we don’t.” An amused smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You’ve made it abundantly clear that you’ll let me off the hook and defend me against a certain redhead witch—”
“Yes, well, I don’t want you to feel obligated or forced,” she mutters.
Silence stretches between them for a moment as they watch each other.
The awkwardness of their first encounter is gone, but it’s been replaced by an odd tension that Hermione is having a hard time understanding on a logical level. She can feel it, though.
And when Draco turns toward her to set his hands on her shoulders, she can’t help but startle.
“Relax,” he says, trailing his palms over her skin in a soothing gesture.
It’s hard not to shudder at his touch, especially with her heat only a week away.
Draco thought it might be good for them to try and spend a little time together before the cycle starts.
There really wasn’t any reason to disagree with him, aside from the principle of it. And given that they’re about to become intimately acquainted, Hermione decided to set aside past grievances.
For the moment, at least.
“You know,” he says, interrupting her musings, “I’m sorry I never apologised.”
“You’re apologising for not apologising?”
“Yeah,” he huffs. “And also for how horribly I treated you.”
“Why now? I thought you were content in hating me.”
Draco looks genuinely taken aback.
“You thought I hated you?”
“It’s not as if you ever made any effort to get to know me over these past few years, despite the fact that we see each other at least once a week if not more. What else was I supposed to think?”
For the first time in his life, he appears to be at a loss for words.
Her cheeks colour as she realises she has just asked a question she probably won’t like the answer to. Whatever his reasons for avoiding her, surely this can only end with hurt feelings on her part, which will make her heat even more embarrassing than it’s already going to be.
“It’s fine,” she rushes out. “Just forget I mentioned it.”
“Granger—”
“No, never mind what I said. I accept your apology.”
“But—”
“Let’s not talk about it anymore, okay?”
There’s an odd look in his eyes, but he agrees and they leave it at that.
Hermione had been left so dissatisfied during her last two heats that she had taken to casual encounters to feel something—anything.
The burden caused by her designation had become too much to bear.
Remaining unmated brought about so many tumultuous emotions that remained a constant companion in the weeks following her cycles, a reminder of how inadequate she was.
How could everyone else seem to have found their soulmate, but she was left alone and forgotten? All her old insecurities had resurfaced as Hermione once more wondered if she could ever be good enough.
It felt like no matter how hard she tried, all her efforts were for nought.
Exhaustion settled into her bones at the realisation that she could never be enough.
Hermione had sacrificed her entire childhood as she, Harry, and Ron worked tirelessly to defeat Voldemort. As the dust had settled after the Battle of Hogwarts, she thought she might have proved herself as a witch, who deserved to be a part of the magical community as much as any of her pureblood or half-blood peers.
Then the designation had revealed itself.
And although she tried to ignore the situation, she couldn’t help but consider whether her very existence was cursed. During the late hours of the night when sleep evaded her, she struggled to grapple with the knowledge that was doomed to a lifetime of inferiority.
Hermione would forever be caught in an endless effort to change circumstances that were entirely out of her control.
The heats were merely a painful reminder of how hopeless her situation was.
The ache that bloomed in her chest during the cycles persisted even when she slept with a parade of Muggle men whose names and faces she could no longer remember.
And regardless of her many efforts, Hermione could not overcome the crushing depression that overwhelmed her at the reminder that true happiness would never be achievable for her.
Of course, in the months that passed after the cycle, the sharp pang of being unloved and unwanted began to subside into a dull throb before finally dissipating entirely.
Her mind once more built up its defences against the existential crisis that she found herself in and soon, Hermione was back to pretending as though her problem didn’t exist.
When Draco arrives at her flat on the first day of the cycle, Hermione is sceptical as to whether the plan is actually going to work. Yes, he’s an Alpha, but is that really all it takes?
By the third day, Hermione has lost count of how many orgasms Draco has given her.
His devotion to her satisfaction highlights how the Alpha and omega biologies are created to suit one another. In the same way, she will never be able to feel true pleasure without an Alpha, Draco will never find a partner that could take him the way an omega can.
She understands it now.
They were made for each other.
Not her and Draco specifically, but Alphas and omegas.
One cannot exist without the other.
This becomes even more apparent with how he approaches her heat. Even though he should have long since tired, Draco is relentless in ensuring she climaxes again and again.
And while Hermione had thought at various points in the past that maybe she was the problem, that theory clearly has no merit.
Although Draco has just made her come on his tongue, Hermione can already feel another orgasm building as he sheathes his thick cock inside her. It shouldn’t fit as easily as it does, given his size. In fact, the first time she saw it, Hermione was certain that it wouldn’t fit.
And yet, her body seems ready and able to accommodate his length and girth as her cunt moulds to him—her walls stretching around him.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs against her shoulder, kissing her skin as he begins to thrust. “My sweet, perfect omega.”
A low keen escapes her at his words, even though the rational part of her mind knows that Draco isn’t actually calling her his. It’s all part of his inherent Alpha programming, caused by the combination of their pheromones.
“You’re so good for me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Hermione moans. “I need your knot.”
“It’s yours, baby. All you have to do is come for me again.”
Her cunt flutters around him as the heat that has pooled in her pelvis begins to spread through her body. Fire races through her veins at the thought of being filled with his seed.
And though she wants to ask him to suck on her scent gland, she won’t.
The suppressants she takes religiously help her to preserve some control despite the heat and she knows her request wouldn’t be appropriate given how Draco has avoided that part of her neck.
Still, it doesn’t stop her from fantasising about what it might feel like to be claimed by him.
White-hot ecstasy washes her and with a throaty groan, Draco knots her.
The days following her first partnered heat had forced Hermione to acknowledge an unpleasant truth: she could no longer ignore the issue of her designation.
She also couldn’t keep asking Draco to help her, especially given how their encounter ended with them awkwardly saying goodbyes without any discussion of what the future might hold.
To be fair, she didn’t allow for much opportunity to converse, given how she practically threw him out of her flat the moment her heat was over. It was for the best, though.
Eventually, he would find a mate and she would be left alone once again.
Rather than waiting for the inevitable to happen, she left the country mere days after the cycle was complete. And given how she knew her friends would react, she didn’t tell anyone her plans or where she was going.
With a leave of absence submitted at work and a small bag slung over her shoulder, she set off.
If there wasn’t someone for her in the pool of British Alphas, Hermione had little choice but to search the world for the person who was made for her.
She spent time in Australia first. Even though her parents still didn’t remember her, it brought Hermione comfort to be near them.
Unfortunately, her search there was fruitless, which led her to the United States.
The North American wizarding community had maintained consistent rates of Alphas and omegas, which meant there were more options for her.
Yet, even with the increased availability, she couldn’t find a single person who elicited the same reaction that he did.
The numerous Alphas she met were nice enough, but their scents were repulsive. With another heat approaching, Hermione considered just settling for someone, but the mere thought of it made her stomach turn.
Unsurprisingly, it was even more excruciating to spend a heat alone after knowing what it could be like.
Yet, Hermione survived it, as she always did.
She returns to England because Harry asks her to.
He and Theo are expecting their first child, and Hermione will be named the godmother.
Even so, she doesn’t plan to stay for long. Despite her lack of success in finding her mate, the past seven months have helped Hermione in realising how much she values freedom from expectations and responsibilities.
So she plans to submit a full resignation to her job and relinquish her flat. And once Theo gives birth, she’ll continue travelling.
She has only been back in the country for a few hours when there’s a knock at her door, one that’s eerily reminiscent of that day Draco came to see her. This time, she’s less surprised to find him standing at the threshold to her apartment.
“Hello, Malfoy,” she says amiably.
Even though it feels like a Snitch has been let loose in her stomach, there’s no need to be uncivil. After all, it isn’t his fault that she’s feeling this way.
Instead of returning her greeting, though, he just stares.
“Is there something I can help you with?” she finally asks.
“You left.”
It sounds like an accusation.
“And I’ll be leaving again once the baby is born.”
“Why?” he asks as he steps forward into her flat.
She takes an equal step back.
“There’s still more of the world I want to see.”
“Let me come with you, then. You can’t leave me again.”
A startled laugh catches in her throat when she sees he’s serious.
“I didn’t leave you! I spared us both from the awkwardness that would have followed.”
“You never even bothered to talk to me.”
“Because I knew how you felt! You never— I don’t know why you decided to help me, but it wasn’t a sustainable arrangement. I couldn’t let myself get attached only to have my heart broken.”
“I wouldn’t hurt you, Hermione.”
Tears fill her eyes.
“Maybe not on purpose, but you’d find your mate eventually and—”
“You’re my mate.”
This time she does laugh, though the sound lacks mirth.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m serious,” he says. “I avoided you all these years because I knew I would never be worthy of you. But the past few months— Merlin, being apart from you drove me mad. I thought I was going to die.”
Hermione gapes at him, her mind racing as she struggles to make sense of his confession.
All this time… He wanted her, too.
She can’t decide whether to hex him or kiss him.
“You’re an idiot,” she says.
“I know.”
“And an absolute bastard.”
“Will you still have me?”
“I suppose,” she sighs, even as she throws herself into his arms and presses her nose to the gland at the base of his neck. “After all, I don’t want to be held responsible for your death.”
“I don’t deserve your kindness.”
“You can start earning it by taking me to bed.”
“I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he says, smiling.
Draco seals his promise with a kiss.