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Hermione Granger was rushing, her bag sloppily packed and threatening to spill, as she quickly sped-walked down the halls of the Ministry, heading towards the lifts.
The back of her neck was damp, baby hairs sticking to her skin, while the mass of her bountiful curls was tied up in a bun at the top of her head, her vinewood wand hastily shoved through it to keep it in place.
It was Valentine's Day, and she was hell-bent on getting home at a decent hour so she could make good on her plans to surprise Ron with a romantic night in.
She made it inside the lift just as the doors started to close, pushing her way in and flashing an apologetic smile at its inhabitants. As she turned to face forward, she straightened her gilet, pulling it back down towards her navy pencil skirt and smoothing out the waist.
It was stifling inside the lift, or rather Hermione was the one who was burning up, flushed from her almost-run and the panic of trying to get moving fast. She fanned herself, trying to cool down, and when that didn't work, freed her wand, her curls cascading down in a cloud of orange blossom, and cast a cooling charm over herself, sighing audibly at the first draft of cool air that washed over her body.
When the lift chimed, signalling that it had arrived in the lobby, Hermione was already in motion, bee-lining for the floos. There was a flash of bright green, and then she was travelling through space, arriving home in the oversized fireplace in the flat where she and Ron both resided.
Her heels clicked across the floor as she stepped to the side and kicked them off into the coat closet, losing about 4 inches of height. She pulled off the gilet and stuffed it into her brown leather satchel, which she hung on the hook on the back of the closet door. As she started to walk towards the kitchen, she pushed up the sleeves of her navy blouse, ready to get to work.
Hermione could use magic; in fact, considering the time restraints, she probably should. But she was committed to the idea of making him a hand-cooked meal, the old-fashioned Muggle way. She and Ron hadn't been doing well, not for the last several months at least, and the pressure to make sure everything went well tonight was immense.
They had been fighting a lot, but that wasn't that unusual; she and Ron did tend to bicker. It was this new, deep, pervading silence that was worrying her, both of them too apathetic to care enough to fight anymore. She couldn't recall making a conscious decision about it, but somehow it had happened, both of them choosing to keep the peace, even if it meant they kept each other at arm's length.
These days, they slipped past each other like two ships in the night, moving around one another with effortless grace. Ron had been choosing to eat dinner at the pub more and more frequently, preferring the sketchiness of Tom's split pea soup to the barren quiet of a shared dinner table at home. Sure, they convened when it came to Harry or the Weasley brood, but the moment they were in private again, they returned to this new default, one that was definitely cause for serious concern.
She had convinced herself that if they could just have a good Valentine's Day, they could rekindle their romance, and they would find that ever-elusive spark. If she were being honest, she would have to admit to herself that they never really had it, that the foundation of their relationship was and always will be their friendship and the weight of the task of keeping Harry alive long enough so that he could defeat Voldemort.
But Hermione couldn't admit that to herself, not without a deeper examination that would lead to the inevitable question of whether she and Ron were truly right together. This was the question that she was terrified to answer, one that kept her awake in the middle of the night, lying rigidly in the pitch dark, refusing to let her mind wander lest it stray into dangerous waters.
Their friends and Ron's family all accepted that they were meant to be together; it was just the way it was. No one actually stopped to consider whether they were actually compatible, least of all Hermione Granger herself.
Aside from loving the same people and their experience as child soldiers, they didn't exactly have much in common. They didn't share the same hobbies or interests, and couldn't really talk about much beyond reminiscing or surface-level topics without the other person getting annoyed or losing interest.
The sex, when they were having it, was mediocre at best. Hermione usually could get herself off during it, but there was always something deeply unsatisfying about her orgasms. But Ron hadn't touched in that way for at least six months, probably longer if she actually pulled out a calendar and counted back.
Tonight, they would break their dry spell, she had decided; it was well past time. With a determined set of her shoulders, she made her way to the kitchen, ready to cook a meal that was tasked with the heavy burden of saving a dying relationship.
The kitchen itself was massive, with a huge blue soapstone island set against beige cabinets. There was a large picture window overlooking the street, with copious amounts of natural light flooding in, which Hermione adored.
It wasn't against her self-imposed rules to use magic to gather the ingredients she needed, so she did exactly that, her wand commanding as it swept through the air, summoning the myriad of herbs and spices that her recipe called for.
Painstakingly, she began chopping the garlic and onion, dicing them to the perfect size. With every cut of the knife, she grew calmer, the familiar feeling of being in the kitchen grounding her and setting her at ease.
By the time the cast-iron skillet was pre-heating on the stove, she was humming softly under her breath. She was still a little nervous about pulling this off before Ron got home, and, for whatever reason, her body's temperature regulation simply wasn't cooperating.
Despite it being mid-February, Hermione was boiling hot, almost roasting. As she dropped the steaks into the pan to sear, she cast a supplementary cooling charm, hoping it would stick. Standing over the stove was not helping; Hermione was flushed with heat, her cheeks and chest burning up.
The multiple cooling charms were still not working, and Hermione found she had no other choice but to open the window.
Freezing cold air rushed in to fill the space, and she let out a deep sigh as it brushed against her, the sweat on her back and brow instantly cooling. She quickly flipped the steaks, then pulled the electric kettle off the stand, after it whistled to alert her that the water had finished boiling. Dumping the water into the stainless steel pot first, she then slid the diced potatoes in as well, starting to make the mashed potatoes, Ron's favourite, adding plenty of salt.
Everything was moving smoothly, except, frustratingly, the once-frigid breeze was no longer keeping up with the heat her body was generating. She was on a tight timetable, trying to get everything cooked and plated, with the right ambience, and herself showered and dressed, before Ron arrived home in less than an hour. Hermione didn't have time to try to figure out what was going on with her body.
Frustrated, she bundled her curls back at the top of her head, then shoved her wand through it again. She unbuttoned two more buttons of her blouse; her black bra was now fully on display, but she couldn't be bothered to care.
By the time everything had finished cooking, a sheen of sweat was coating her entire body. Hermione set the dining table, dimmed the crystal chandelier, lit a few tapered candles, then added the bouquet of red roses she had picked up over the weekend, spreading a handful of petals across the table.
Setting a stasis charm over the food, she quickly headed to the shower, peeling off her drenched clothes and stepping inside, the handle turned all the way to the left, as cold as she could possibly get it. The water was positively steaming when it touched her skin, and when she turned around to face the shower head, she yelped when the spray hit her sensitive breasts.
After indulging herself for a few more minutes, she got out of the shower, patting herself dry before making her way into the bedroom. There, she was struck with the overwhelming urge to rearrange the blankets into a cosy little den in which she could burrow deep inside.
With a sigh, she flopped down into her makeshift bundle, doing her best to get comfortable. Even though she felt compelled to snuggle deeper into the blankets, she was still burning up and tried to rack her brain for a charm she could cast to ease the burning on her skin.
Scanning the room, she wasn't able to find her wand, and after doing her best to focus her mind, thought she might have left it in the loo. It was in her hair at some point, but now it was down, her wand nowhere to be seen, water droplets steadily dripping onto her skin.
Pressure was building, a burning hot ache that was ripping through her body with abandon. Arousal suddenly gushed between her thighs, coating them, then seeping into the bed. She writhed, needing something, a way to alleviate the throbbing that was taking over her brain, pressing her to seek relief.
On top of all of this, there was a pervading sense that something was wrong. Her body had never felt like this, on fire and burning up with a desire so strong it almost hurt.
Gone were all thoughts about having the perfect dinner, replaced by a serious concern for her health. She was too weak to get out of bed, and the idea of getting herself to the hospital felt insurmountable.
Please, she begged silently, releasing her wish out into the universe. Any minute, she told herself, any minute the floo would roar, bringing Ron home with it. As an Auror, he would know what to do and would be able to help her get to St Mungo's, where she could get some assistance, or at very least some answers.
Time passed with a surreal quality, Hermione feeling both like she wanted to rip off her skin and, at the same time, like she was floating up above her body, witnessing from up above. She panted, her breath coming out in heavy bursts, her body overworking as it fought to find stasis, a seemingly impossible feat.
The sheets rustled as she moved, restless, unable to find comfort. Her body burned, radiating heat like a furnace, as slick wetness continued to gush from between her legs. Weakly, she thought that she probably needed to drink water to rehydrate, but as soon as she had the thought, it flitted away.
She didn't know how long she lay there, burning hot in her misery, but suddenly a voice sounded from very far away.
"Weasley?" She heard someone calling from the other room, their feet padding across the floor as they began searching for him. Mistakenly, they went to the dining room first, lured there by the smell of food wafting from the table.
In the back of her mind, she was dimly aware that it wasn't Ron who was here but someone else, but she couldn't bring herself to care. At this point, she needed anyone else, literally any other body would do to help drag her into the floo so she could get help.
Try as she might, she couldn't get the words to form in her mouth, and so she waited, helpless and desperate.
The sound of footsteps echoed as they went searching from room to room, Ron's name bouncing off the walls, until she felt, more than saw, a presence lingering at the doorway.
Whoever it was, they were in the doorway of their bedroom, the scent of petrichor and pine emanating off them in waves, somehow managing to soothe some of her desperation.
"Granger?" came a rumbling voice, and she mewled in response, too weak to form words.
"Salazar, are you alright?" The voice came closer. Her eyes were shut closed, but she could tell they, or he rather, was standing directly above her now. Her breath left her in heavy pants, and she writhed again, happy that he was closer but frustrated that he wasn't close enough.
A cool hand went to her brow. "Granger, you're burning up."
She leaned into the touch, letting it ground her, the point of contact the only thing in the whole universe that felt right.
"Is Weasley here? There's an emergency at work—" the voice trailed off.
Her mind struggled to piece it all together, eventually coming to the conclusion that it was Malfoy who was here. He and Ron had been partners for the last few years, and he was long ago keyed to their wards, a practical choice, so that he would be able to reach Ron in this exact sort of scenario.
As Ron and Malfoy's working relationship became more established, it evolved into friendship, and eventually best friendship. He began to spend more and more time in their flat. Hermione couldn't count the number of times he had come over for dinner, acting as a much-needed buffer in their space.
He had even been around for holidays and special occasions, seamlessly integrating into their lives. She had come to know him deeply and even began to look forward to his company. They became friends thanks to their many shared interests, like potion-making and reading.
Many times, Ron would tumble into bed after a glass too many of fire whiskey and Hermione and Malfoy would stay up, discussing magical theory or something they had read in a research article, mostly finding that their opinions aligned.
They had, of course, discussed the past at length. Hermione had forgiven him long before that point, back when she and Harry had made the choice to testify at his trial out of compassion. But learning more about him and his choices, and therefore his regrets, made it easier to be around him. The shared vulnerability in their conversations enabled them to reach greater depths.
However, in all their time as friends, she had never once paid attention to him in that way. She knew he was an Alpha, and a commanding one at that. But she was with Ron, and he was Ron's partner, and Malfoy had always fit neatly into that box. But tonight, something had changed.
The hand moved, straightening out the thin sheet that was covering her, and Hermione flushed a little harder, as the fabric grazed her sensitive nipples and dragged out a low moan from between her lips.
"How long have you been like this?" his voice came again, the tone commanding and deep. This time, she found that she could finally answer.
"Since I got home," she said weakly, her voice barely above a whisper.
He swore under his breath, conjuring a glass and filling it with an aguamenti. Fingers slipped beneath her head, propping it up as he gently brought the glass to her lips. The water was cool and refreshing, and she let out a little moan as she greedily drank, draining the glass in three large gulps.
"Fuck," he said again. "There's something seriously wrong with you. Okay, I'm going to help you up now, okay? I'm going to take you to St Mungo's."
Hermione managed to nod her head just once, and he pulled the blanket back, exposing her naked form.
A low growl filled the room. Her eyes were closed again, but she could see it: Malfoy standing over her, taking in her naked body, hot and flushed, a pool of arousal drenching the sheets, a damp patch covering a swatch of the bed. A scent filled the space, orange blossom and something a little more primal, smelling of desire and ripe heat.
"Omega," he muttered low and dangerous. He made no move to pick her up, frozen in place.
Omega? She thought, confused. She wasn't an Omega; she was a Beta. Had always been a Beta. Omegas were extremely rare, so much so that she didn't know a single one aside from Harry, who by some miracle, was still unmated despite multiple Alphas trying to win that honour every time he went into heat.
Most of the peers she had grown up with were Betas, like Ron. Only a select few were Alphas like Charlie and Theo, and like—Malfoy.
A whimper escaped her lips, and she squeezed her thighs together as a pang of longing throbbed at the apex of her thighs. She was so hot, and she needed something, something that would do something about this all-consuming ache. Something that would stretch her and make her feel full, make her feel complete.
Another waft of Malfoy's scent swept over her as he shuffled in her place, making her mouth water. Alpha, she thought again, her mind fixated on the thought.
Need Alpha. Make Alpha happy. The words ran through her mind like a refrain.
She struggled to open her eyes, immediately finding Malfoy looming above the bed. He was breathing hard, his mouth slightly open with a dazed expression on his face. His pupils were huge, the silver of his eyes pushed to the edges in a thin sliver.
With effort, she pushed up to sitting, her breasts aching as they jiggled heavily from the movement. His eyes flicked down, drawn by the movement, seemingly unable to tear them away.
"Alpha," she purred out in a dreamy voice. His gaze snapped upwards to meet her own. She smiled, the satisfaction of knowing exactly what had to happen next settling over her.
She turned herself over, coming onto all fours, backing up to the edge of the bed, presenting herself to him. "Alpha," she murmured out again, looking over her shoulder, watching his face.
His eyes were trained on her, watching her glistening sex, slick running down the inside of her legs. She arched her back, trying to give him a better view, putting it all on display, doing her best to entice him.
"Granger," his voice was tight. "Granger, you don't want this."
"Yes," she answered, nodding her head, not breaking eye contact. "Alpha, fuck me. Give me your knot."
A broken sound escaped from his lips. "Granger, let me go find Weasley for you."
She was cognizant enough to know that wasn't what she wanted. With a shake of her head, she moaned no.
His hands were gentle as he reached for the sheet and began draping it over her. "I'm going to find Weasley. You stay here," he used his Alpha tone, the deep baritone resonating inside her bones, compelling her to obey. As weak as she was, she was at no risk of going anywhere, but it soothed something inside her to have a command to follow.
Hermione sighed, collapsing back on the bed, listening to the sound of his retreating footsteps. In her mind, a silent plea for him to come back and give her what she needed played on repeat.
Her body continued to burn, with heat and with arousal, desperate for Malfoy to come back and sate it. He smelled so nice, like safety and goodness and the promise of the best sex of her life.
The floo roared, and she could make out two different voices speaking rapidly. Ron, her mind filled in, unhelpfully. She couldn't care less that he was home; the only thing she truly cared about at this point was that Malfoy was here.
Malfoy's mouthwatering scent came closer, flooding her senses. She groaned, rolling around in the blanket, her body growing more restless with proximity.
"I found her like this. She's gone into heat. She needs you," Malfoy was saying, explaining things to Ron.
"An Omega? But how—?" Ron's once-so-familiar voice was grating. His scent of freshly cut grass and spearmint was wrong, and she scrunched her nose as it permeated, polluting the room, a third tone disrupting what was otherwise a perfect harmony. Her scent mixed with Malfoy, now that was right. Ron, his, well, frankly, it was putrid and awful.
She whimpered, trying to push it all away. With every fibre of her being, she knew that Ron shouldn't be here.
"You're going to have to help with her heat. If you don't, she'll die," Malfoy was continuing, his voice serious. She whined at the sound. Why was it so far away?
"Me? I'm not—I'm not an Alpha. I don't think I'm the right person—"Ron trailed off again.
She writhed on the bed, her body in agreement. He was most certainly not the right person. It was hard enough being in this room with him; she couldn't imagine what it would feel like if he touched her.
"Alpha, please," she whispered, her voice breaking.
"See?" Ron stammered out. "She needs an Alpha. I can't do this."
"You must," Malfoy interjected. "She's your girlfriend, Weasley. Look at her, she's suffering. If you don't help her soon, it will be too late. You might not be an Alpha, but it will have to be enough. I'll leave you two alone so you can start. Don't forget to replenish her fluids; it looks like she's already on the verge of dehydration."
He was leaving? Her heart was breaking in two. He couldn't leave. He had to give her his knot.
"You're leaving us alone? Malfoy, mate, I told you already I can't do this. Please don't leave me here with her." Ron's voice was almost as desperate as she felt.
"You'll be fine. You love each other, right? It will be intense, but you'll make it work."
She cracked her eyes open, greedily drinking in the sight of Malfoy's frame, so broad it almost reached the entire width of the door frame. He was Alpha. Her Alpha. Every single bit of her biology was screaming that he was.
His eyes were tight, jaw clenched, ticking as he went to clap Ron on the shoulder encouragingly, first having to unfurl the fist at his side. His whole body strained, showing remarkable control, he was presented with a ripe and willing Omega at the beginning of her heat, and was still managing to fight off the impulse of his rut.
"I have to go. My biology it—" He let the words hang in the air, willing Ron to pick up the rest. Before long, holding himself back wouldn't be an option. He would force Ron out of the room, maybe even hurt or kill him, if he thought Ron was trying to get between them.
"Your biology. Exactly. Malfoy, you can help her! You're an Alpha. Please, you've got to. I can't—I can't do this."
"What? Do you even know what you're asking? You want me to help Granger, your girlfriend, your very serious girlfriend whom you live with, whom you've known since childhood through her heat?"
Hearing her name from his lips was like torture, she mewled, kicking at the blankets, the fabric brushing against painfully peaked nipples, dragging another moan and a gush of slick out of her.
Malfoy sniffed involuntarily. His eyes were so black that she could see how dark they were from where she was lying. She snaked one hand out from under the blanket, reaching for him. If he would just touch her, he would make it all better.
Ron was nodding his head emphatically. "Please, Malfoy. You've got to help. I can't do this. Hermione and I—we're not right for each other. I was waiting for the holiday to pass, and then I was going to break up with her. Helping her now, it feels wrong. Not to mention, I'm a Beta. I'm not built to withstand an Omega's heat."
A small part of her, deep inside, recoiled at his words. She had known that they were struggling, but for Ron to be actively planning to break up with her? Hermione hadn't known that they were that far gone.
"You're breaking up with Granger?" Even in her fevered state, she could discern the incredulity in Malfoy's voice.
"We're not right for each other, and it hasn't been working. Not for a long time. Maybe never. I was planning on talking it through with her in a day or two, but now, please, Malfoy, you've got to help. If I do this, it will mess things up even more. We haven't had sex in ages. I don't know if I can even perform the way she needs me to right now."
If Hermione were just a little more alert, she would have been mortified with Ron for airing out their dirty laundry like this. But now, knowing that every word was working to convince Malfoy to give her what she wanted, she didn't care. She would do anything for his knot.
Malfoy's hand rubbed against his face. "Weasley, she's your girlfriend. If I do this, there will be no turning back. My scent. It will mix with hers. Everyone will know what happened between us for days after, maybe even weeks. We might not be able to stop ourselves from biting each other, creating a permanent bond. There would be no going back after that."
"You think my pride is what I'm worried about?" He gestured frantically at Hermione. "Look at her! Look at the state she's in! I'm not equipped to handle this. I don't—I can't" His face was crestfallen. "I've got to go. I've got to get out of here."
Ron turned on his heel and all but ran out of the room, Malfoy chasing after him right on his heels. She heard him calling for Ron to come back, "Weasley! Weasley!" and then there was the roar of flames in the fireplace, and Ron's scent abruptly cut out. He was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe now Alpha would give her his knot?
A few torturous moments later, Malfoy was once again standing at the threshold of the bedroom, hovering just on the outside as if he were afraid to enter. She struggled to untangle herself, then pushed herself to her knees, her eyes dialled in on him.
"Alpha, please," she begged, feeling weaker than she did before. Her whole body was on fire; she was burning up. She needed his touch, his scent, his voice. Needed it more than she had ever needed anything else in her life.
He growled and crossed the room in three long strides, Hermione cowering a bit when he got close. His anger radiated out, hot and furious, his face set in a grimace.
Was he displeased with her? Had she done something to upset him? With trembling fingers, she reached for his wrist, seeking to soothe his ire.
"Alpha," she said nervously, rubbing the skin under his dress shirt. It was firm, the skin pulled tight over his muscles, and she shakily unbuttoned the sleeve, rolling it up, exposing the smooth expanse. She picked up his arm and brought it to her face, nuzzling against it. His scent, grounding and commanding, flooded into her, washing away the very last of Ron's lingering stench.
"Lie back," he said suddenly, and Hermione was obeying before she could think. Her head hit the down pillow, damp curls fanning out, steaming lightly from the heat pumping out of her body. Automatically, her knees opened, flashing him her cunt, slick and ready for him.
"We're going to try something," he spoke authoritatively, unbuttoning his shirt before removing it entirely. His upper body was bare, the bulk of muscles unveiled under the light. He was built like a hero of the ages, like Heracles or Thor, all brawny strength and coiled sinew, tensed and ready to pounce. Stripes of silvery scars decorated his chest and torso, lending even more to his dangerous appearance. She sighed at the sight of this Alpha, her Alpha and the mighty package he made.
He sat on the edge of the bed next to her, and involuntarily, her fingertips went to trace the edges of his face. His nostrils flared at the proximity of the scent glands in her wrists, her scent undoubtedly flooding him.
Unceremoniously, he thrust his left forearm in between her legs, the dark mark pressed snugly against her cunt. Deliberately, he started to move it back and forth against her, the slip of her slick making it glide through her folds effortlessly, dragging against her clit.
She moaned, eyes fluttering, and some of the burning ache immediately eased thanks to the contact. Her hips started moving in tandem with his arm, adding necessary friction.
"Good girl, Omega," he praised, and her insides melted. She so wanted to please him.
"Make a mess of my mark, defile it," his voice was dark, heated.
The veins in his arms bulged as he moved, and she canted her hips, desperate to climax, to show him how good she could be. If she obeyed him perfectly, maybe then he would finally give her what she needed?
She ground against his arm, his gaze searing as he watched her mindlessly ride his mark. Her jaw hung open, her breath heavy and hard, her heartbeat thudding through her veins.
He muttered something under his breath, and it felt like the mark came alive under her, the snake slithering, rolling its body against her clit, the feeling of its scales, rough and textured, making her groan.
His eyes never left her as he worked his arm between her legs, setting a pace and keeping to it. All her awareness flooded into what was happening between them, the building pleasure cresting, so close to breaking.
"Come, Omega, soak my mark." There wasn't even an ounce of question in his words.
Hermione's eyelids fluttered; pleasure had seized hold of her. The snake continued to writhe against her clit, scales undulating in a hypnotic pattern. Something coiled in the lowest part of her belly, a bowstring being pulled back, stretching to the max, the moment before it was released.
His large hand went to her belly, pinning her down, and it was that feeling, the one of him holding her place, of making her take the pleasure he was giving her, that brought her over the edge.
She screamed, the sound tearing from her throat as she bowed, sparks flying across her too sensitive skin. Desire had been building within her for so long that her orgasm seemed endless, just as one wave crashed over the shore, another began to crest. Her hips continued to move, thrusting back and forth against his tattoo, the symbol of everything he had hated about people like her before, now reduced to the thing that made her break apart over him, drenching it with her slick.
Slowly, she came back into her body, her breath still harsh as it escaped her mouth. But even as her muscles began to relax, arousal was building again, throbbing between her legs. It would happen again and again for hours or even days, such was the nature of an Omega's heat. And as this was her first one, she had no standard to rely on; this was all a learning experience.
Her eyes looked into Malfoy's, his expression almost tender as he looked down at her, examining her face. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, the words dripping with care.
"Yes, Alpha. But please, I need you."
Gently, he extracted his arm from between her legs, leaning back just slightly and breaking their physical connection. The loss felt like a blow, dysregulating her, making her feel desperate and unmoored.
"Granger, you don't want me. Let me find someone else for you. Another Alpha. Maybe Charlie? Or Theo? Or I can call St Mungo's and have them send someone over. Someone trained to help Omegas through their heats."
She frowned. Charlie and Theo were her friends, but she didn't want them here now, not like this. Not Charlie with his scent of charred earth and black coffee. Or Theo with his scent of rich red wine and leather. Instinctively, her mind rejected them.
"No, Alpha. Please. I need you. Only you."
A broad hand swiped across his face. "Granger, you're delirious. If you were yourself right now, there's no way you would want this. Please, let me do the right thing. I'm trying so hard to do the right thing. I had hoped the orgasm—I hoped it would make you lucid enough to see my point."
With great effort, she pushed herself up, her hair almost dry now and surrounding her head like a cloud. She touched him, palm on his muscled chest, right over his heart. "I want you. Only you," she promised. Her Omega knew what she needed, knew who she needed, and it was undoubtedly him.
Still moving, she began to climb onto his lap, her soaked centre pressing up against his trousers. He was rock hard and straining against the fabric, his thick length seeking her out, wanting to bury itself in her depths.
Her clit was still sensitive, but her state of arousal was high. Intrigued, she tested it out, dragging herself against the outline of his cock, moaning to feel his firm girth rubbing against her. It was perfect. He was perfect. Her Alpha.
He groaned with her, his dark eyes flashing. "I'm doing my best to hold myself back, but Granger, I don't know if I'll be able to for much longer. My biology, the Alpha, he wants you, Granger."
He buried his face in her hair, taking a deep inhale. "Salazar, you smell so good."
Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his body flush against hers as she rocked in his lap, her aching nipples rubbing against the smooth expanse of his chest, the thin patch of white blond hair in the centre brushing softly against the hollow between her breasts.
"Give in to it, Alpha. Let yourself go," she wanted him, wanted his rut. Wanted him to flip her onto the bed and claim her. To flood her with his come and plug her with his knot. To breed her until her belly grew round and heavy with his child so that everyone looking at her would know, would know what had happened between them and what she had let him do.
Her teeth found his mating gland, rigid and pushing out along the edge of his neck. She ran the flat of her tongue against it, swirling it along the cord, then bit down. Not hard enough to break the skin and bind them together, at least not yet, but firm enough that he would feel it, feel how much she wanted him.
"Omega," he groaned, his throat vibrating against her teeth. She didn't let go of the hold she had on him, feeling his pulse beat hard in his neck.
She rolled her hips again, still biting down. After the next rock against his clothed girth, she finally released him, satisfied to see the imprint of her teeth, unmistakable on his alabaster skin. First, she dragged her finger pads up against his back, then raked down rapidly with her nails, scratching him.
He arched towards her, his eyes flashing with a challenge; she was dying for him to follow up on. "Take me", she begged, meeting his heated gaze. "Make me yours."
Her skin was flushed and hot to the touch, almost aching with sensitivity. She melted under his touch, his hands beginning to roam, tentatively at first, as if he were afraid she would notice and ask him to stop.
"Please," she tried again. "Please, Alpha, I need you. It hurts," a soft whimper escaped with the words. She knew somewhere in the back of her mind that what he had told Ron was the truth. That if he didn't fuck her and soon, she would die.
Because she was watching him so closely, she saw it, the moment something broke inside of him and he gave himself permission.
With a growl, he flipped her so that she was on her hands and knees, and he was slipping away, back on his feet by the edge of the bed.
She looked back over her shoulder, watching him as he quickly removed his trousers, then slid his pants down his legs. His cock sprang free, large and hard, bobbing from his movement. All Alphas were large in stature and endowment, which was merely a matter of biology. They were bigger and stronger than those with Beta and Omega designations, evolved to protect and care for their weaker counterparts.
Their voices held power, capable of bringing Omegas and even Betas to submission with a single barked command. Such were the biological differences between the designations, an irrefutable truth.
Malfoy was the largest Alpha she had ever seen, towering over both Charlie and Theo, and wider across the chest. She wasn't sure whether that was a factor of his genetics or because of the requirements of his job as an Auror; he had to stay fit.
She knew he and Ron hit the gym together and sparred at the Ministry most days. But Ron, in his Beta status, often had to pull in a second or even third Beta to assist in his attacks, if he even wanted to get close to besting him. The thought of the power her Alpha held sent a thrill through her.
His cock, well, that was the largest she had ever seen, too, thick and long, the tip flushed pink with pumping blood. A drop of precome dripped from the tip, and Hermione's mouth watered at the thought of collecting it on her tongue. The base was already very slightly beginning to swell, the promise of his knot on the horizon.
Experimentally, she wiggled her hips again, flashing her cunt, a fresh flood of slick cooperatively dripping out.
"Oh, Omega," he rumbled, and she could already hear it, his rut beginning to take hold at the sight and scent of her, flushed and needy, ready for his touch.
A broken, pathetic whine escaped from between her lips, the closest to words she could manage. Touch me, she thought, as hard as she could, hoping beyond hope that he would understand.
A warm hand went to her back, easily covering the expanse of her lower back. She felt small and vulnerable beneath his palm but not afraid, sure that he would never hurt her. It was the nature of an Alpha to protect their Omega, to do whatever it took to keep them happy and safe.
Harry had made it through multiple heats under the skilled hands of St Mungo's appointed Alphas, ones who were unmated and happy to be assigned to guide unpaired Omegas safely through their heats. He often spoke in reverent tones about how precious and cared for they made him feel, how deeply special the experience was.
Now Hermione would finally know how it felt to be the Omega at the receiving end of an Alpha's attention. A shiver ran through her as his hand moved from her back down her arse to her thigh and back up again, comforting in its demand.
"Spread your legs a little more," he commanded, and Hermione was moving before he had finished uttering the last word. One finger traced the inside of her leg, gathering some of the dripping slick and pushing back inside. She moaned as she was breached, her walls stretching around the girth of his finger and reflexively clamping down.
He thrust inside of her, her insides almost sobbing at the sensation of finally not being so empty, but still she needed more.
Abruptly, he removed his finger, and she felt the tip of his cock press up against her entrance.
She looked back to see him, almost feral, eyes black, incisors elongated, the sharp tips glistening in the light. The mating gland in her neck throbbed, begging for his bite, for him to mate her and claim her permanently.
Long fingers splayed over the hip, the other fisting the base of the thick cock.
"Ready?" he asked, the words more of a growl than anything else.
"Please," she breathed, her toes curling in anticipation.
She was so wet that when he thrust forward, his entire length pushed in a single glide, sheathing him to the hilt. Her walls stretched, reshaping them around his girth, and the voice that had been screaming in her head went quiet, finally satiated.
Malfoy paused, breathing hard, holding himself perfectly still as he gave her a moment to adjust. Even at the edge of his rut, he still fought to hold onto some decorum, to make sure that she was alright. He takes such good care of me, she thought with a dreamy sigh.
Hermione was ready, had been ready, desperate even to feel this, so she pushed her hips back toward him, trying to get him to move.
The other hand went to her hips, holding her in place against him, his grip turning possessive and bruising. He pulled back, almost all the way so that only the head was still buried inside her, then, with force, thrust all the way back in, impaling her on his cock.
He did that three more times, quickly, all in a row, before he began actually fucking her, the slap of their skin filling the room. Hermione pressed her cheek against the bed, arse up as high as she could manage, meeting him thrust for thrust.
The stretch, oh Gods, the stretch, it was everything she could have wanted and more. She was so wet she could still feel herself dripping everywhere, filling the room with her earthy musk. As he pounded into her, her tits scraped against the fabric of the bedding, sending a tingle straight to her clit.
It was as if he could read her mind. One hand snaked over her hip, his middle finger thrusting between her legs, searching for her clit. He found it and began to circle, pushing down to give her some pressure, as his cock slid in and out.
Hermione was moaning, one long sound being dragged from her mouth. It was good, so good, everything in the universe aligning, finally making perfect sense with Draco Malfoy inside her.
They were meant for each other, made for each other, she could see that clearly now. How else could he be stretching her so perfectly, filling her so perfectly, chasing away the ache of the emptiness deep inside? She felt full, so full, it was perfect, absolutely divine.
"Come, Omega," he told her for the second time that day. Her orgasm was building quickly as her walls clenched down around his cock, pulling him deeper inside.
Don't ever leave me, she silently begged. Now that she finally found him, she could never let him go. His scent emanated from his body in soothing waves, making her feel safe and protected, calming her in a way Ron's never could.
His finger circled her clit in a consistent rhythm, drawing her climax closer and closer to the surface.
"Come for me, and I'll give you my knot."
A fierce longing throbbed through her body at his words. His knot, oh, she needed that so bad.
One more swipe of his finger and she obeyed, babbling as she broke apart, begging and pleading, asking for more, asking for him to stay, telling him that she wanted him and only him, now until forever.
"Bite me," she begged brokenly. "Bite me and give me your knot. Please."
His only response was to growl and grip her harder, as he plunged his fat cock in and out of her body. Her orgasm was still going, and she was lost to it. She no longer knew herself or her name, only him, the only thing that mattered.
"Fuck, you're perfect. My perfect little Omega." She preened internally at his words.
"Going to fill you, knot you, breed you," he promised, and she moaned, her walls twitching in response to his words.
"Make you mine, for everyone to see. My Omega. Mine." He growled furiously.
"Yours," she answered back faintly. She was his.
"My perfect cock sleeve, taking me so well. Coming on my cock and squeezing me so tight. Going to fuck you until you can't take it anymore, until you beg me to stop."
Her heat wouldn't allow that to happen; she would always want more. She was created for this; her biology evolved selectively over the centuries for this exact scenario. For a lusty Alpha to find her and claim, bite her and breed her, making her his. But the idea of him, forcing her, of using his dominance, sent a bolt of desire through her body.
His hips sped up, fucking her hard, slamming his cock into her, dragging it along her walls. Every thrust, she felt him claiming her more and more, as his rut took over him.
Gone were his protests, of him fighting his instincts, trying to hold back what he wanted. He had surrendered to it, giving in to his nature, into the call her Omega had made for him to claim and keep her, to make her his. Her heartbeat pulsed strongly in her neck, her mating gland pushing out firmly against the skin, aching for his teeth.
She whined, the force of his thrusts pushing her face harder against the mattress, and she closed her eyes.
Her other senses narrowed, and she could tell he was close. She was gagging for it, gagging for him to fill her with his come.
A low groan escaped his throat, and his fingers squeezed her hips harder. The snap of his hips grew erratic as he pitched himself over the edge. When the first rope of his come painted her walls, a tingle of satisfaction radiated out from her core, loosening her joints, making her feel boneless and soft.
His knot expanded, swelling to plug her at the base, keeping his spend inside. She was ovulating, brought on by the heat, in an ultra-fertile window. Dimly, she wished for it to take, for his seed to take root inside her and make her belly swell.
He collapsed onto her, his sweaty forehead resting on her back, his hot breath ghosting across her skin. Malfoy rolled to his side, scooping her up with him, holding her flush against his body. He pressed gentle kisses against her neck, making her shiver. The skin stretched over her mating gland was hypersensitive and carved a firmer touch, namely the sink of his teeth, his claiming bite.
"Malfoy," she whined, tilting her head, exposing more of her neck to him. "Bite me."
With his knot, some of the fog of her heat had lifted, but it wouldn't last for long. Soon, she would be begging for him to fuck her all over again, the cycle repeating itself for however long her heat would span. She rocked experimentally, but she was still plugged so tightly that she barely had any movement.
He let out a low moan to feel the shift of her hips, then grabbed at her flesh, stilling her. "Shh," he hushed her. "Rest, Omega," he pressed another kiss to her mating gland, which throbbed, begging for his teeth.
Hermione tried her best to obey, but her pulse still beat fast in her veins, keeping her awake and alert. A few minutes later, she felt his knot soften enough that she was no longer locked in place, and carefully she turned.
Her fingers went to the planes of his face, tracing them tenderly. "Alpha," she tried again. "Please, bite me."
Already the arousal was building, beating like a drum. She writhed a little, the ache of emptiness coming back with a vengeance, and she felt her heat take hold for a second time.
Dark eyes flicked from her gaze to her neck and back again. Hermione tilted her head again, "Please," she begged.
"Omega," his voice rumbled, his hands reaching for her and holding her still. "I can't, you don't know what you're asking for."
But Hermione did know; she understood perfectly well. Yes, she was under the thrall of her Omega, but it didn't make what she was feeling any less real. She knew it was right, knew that they belonged together. He was her Alpha; there would never be anyone else.
A pang of self-consciousness burned low in her abdomen. "Do I not—do I not please you, Alpha?" Fat tears collected at her lashline at the thought. If he rejected her, she thought she would die from a broken heart.
"What? No. No, Omega, you please me very well indeed." He looked half-ashamed to have made her question herself.
Relief flooded her insides. "Then, why not? Alpha, please," her voice was soft and submissive. "I would be so good for you," she promised.
"You're not yourself right now. If you were, this wouldn't be what you wanted."
Hermione sat up, shaking her head. "I'm more myself now than I have ever been. You are my Alpha. I could never want anyone else." She spoke with conviction, or at least, she thought she did.
She pushed him onto his back and swung her leg over his hips, straddling him, her still soaked cunt on his pelvis, just above his half-hard cock, which was already beginning to swell again.
"I need you to bite me," she tried to speak slowly and clearly, her eyes glinting with desire. She reached back and grabbed his cock with her hand, and she pushed the foreskin back, still lubricated with her slick.
Carefully, she lowered herself down onto him, feeling the blood rush to it as he hardened all the way inside of her. She moaned, rolling her hips, leveraging her palms pressed onto his chest as she moved.
It was different this time, being able to watch his face, his gaze somehow keeping her grounded. Her heat still had a hold of her, and she was still desperate for his knot, but there was a little part of her that remained separate and aware, consenting to every bit of what was happening between them.
She started to lean forward, her tits brushing up against his chest, her head going into the space between his neck and his shoulder. Her desire was seizing hold of her again, and she let it rise up and take her as she rode her Alpha's cock.
The angle was immaculate, his thick girth rubbing against the perfect spot within her, every stroke getting her closer to orgasm. Hermione took a deep inhale, her lungs expanding with his scent. Every fibre of her being knew with full certainty that they belonged together, that they were made to find each other like this.
This was the missing piece, the thing that she had been searching for, the reason why things between her and Ron never felt quite right. It came down to biology, to compatibility. She was an Omega, and Malfoy was her Alpha. They were a matched pair.
At this thought, she felt her incisors grow and lengthen, ready to mark him with her claiming bite. She nuzzled at the hollow of his neck, first merely enjoying the closeness, enjoying breathing in so much of his scent.
She ran her tongue against the mating gland in his neck, the one that was throbbing with desire, calling for her to bite. His skin was salty and musky on her tongue, and she moaned, closing her eyes.
It was rare for Omegas to bite first, as the more submissive designation, they tended to follow the lead of their Alpha. But her Alpha, for some reason, seemed determined to deny them. She knew if she bit him first, he would be compelled to seal the bond. It would become a closed circuit, binding them together.
Around his hips, her inner thighs began to shake, her impending orgasm right on the edge. She tried one more time, "Bite me," she begged, her lips pressed up against his neck.
"Omega," he groaned out. "Come on my cock like a good little girl."
She was so close that his words had their desired effect, and she came, stars exploding behind her eyelids, her hearing fuzzing out. As she came, her teeth clamped down hard, piercing the skin of his neck, the blood that was beating along his mating gland, flooding into her mouth. It was hot and metallic as it coated her tongue, and she groaned, her eyes fluttering behind her lids.
Malfoy roared, flipping her onto her back, and in the transition, she lost her hold on his neck, breaking her bite. He looked down at her from above, and something unreadable flashed in his eyes.
She arched up from the bed, baring her neck, closing her eyes as she prepared for him to bite her back, to feel the sensation of teeth tearing through flesh, leaving her with the scar that would tell everyone who saw her that she belonged to someone, that her Alpha had marked her for life.
He reached to grab one of her legs, pulling it up higher, adjusting the angle of his thrusts so that he could go in deeper. Her walls fluttered unconsciously around him, preparing to receive his load.
Three more sharp thrusts, and then he came, and finally, his teeth met her skin, sinking in deep, completing the bond. As her blood flowed into his mouth, his knot fully expanded, locking them together. Crimson stained the side of his neck, where she had bitten him, and a sense of fierce pride fluttered in her chest.
He was hers, and she was his forever; there would be no going back. Malfoy slumped, releasing the hold of her neck, his head going to rest on the pillow beside her. They were both breathing hard, from the intense fucking but also from the magic of the mating bond.
Now that it was solidified, they would always know where to find each other and would always have a sense of each other's emotions, particularly the very strong ones. They would have to register with the Ministry after all of this to make their union official.
Drowsily, she stroked the back of his head, fingers tangling in his soft hair. She didn't even remember falling asleep; it happened slowly first, then, all at once.
When Hermione awoke, the events of the last several hours, days? were a blur. Her body was spent, tired and sore, feeling pleasantly used. She turned on her side, expecting to be alone, but instead, found Malfoy sleeping there.
Everything came back to her then with a flash: the memory of her heat, the knowledge that she was an Omega, Ron choosing to leave her, and Malfoy choosing to stay.
She took a deep breath, carefully unpacking her memories, the ones around the sex were particularly hazy, but had an undertone of happy satisfaction. Slowly, she brought her fingers to her neck, tracing along the fresh scab, the bite that Malfoy had marked her with.
The one on his neck, a mirror of her own, was plainly visible too. As she processed, she searched for feelings of confusion or even regret, but absolutely none were to be found. Instead her felt a sense of belonging, a deep knowing that Malfoy was her Alpha, resolute and firm.
Hermione didn't regret what happened between them, couldn't regret it, because what lived within her was a certainty she had never had before. She regretted how things had ended with Ron, without a proper conversation and with him fleeing, leaving her in her time of need.
But she was grateful that he had stepped aside, that he had been able to admit he couldn't give her what she needed, because ultimately they weren't right for each other.
They would probably need to have a conversation for closure and logistics, since technically, they still lived together. All of his things were still hanging in the closet, and she wondered for a moment where he might have gone after leaving her alone with Malfoy.
Either to Harry or the Burrow, she thought, deciding she would try floo-calling both places later that day to find him. Whatever happened between them, they were friends first, and she was sure that their friendship was still salvageable.
Thinking deeper, she should probably talk to Harry either way, now that she knew her designation was actually an Omega, not a Beta. He had presented four years ago and had been through five or six heats by this point, and he likely had some pointers to share, even though he himself was yet to be mated.
But for now, her attention was all for her Alpha. She watched his face, relaxed in repose, and a little bubble of happiness buoyantly floated in her chest.
She wanted to thank him for everything he did. With her hand, she pulled the sheet over her head, and she crawled down to where his cock lay thick against his thigh.
Compelled, her hand picked it up, and she stilled, afraid that she might have woken him up. A long moment passed, and there was no movement, no sound. Feeling safe, she opened her jaw wide, pulling his cock inside the heat of her mouth.
He made a delicious little groan to feel it, but she could tell from his body's laxity that he was still asleep. Gently, she sucked, luxuriating in the feel of silken skin that still tasted like her against her tongue. She stayed there for a long moment, continuing to suck, as his cock swelled, reflexively filling with blood.
With a pop, she released it, fascinated by the knot that had begun to swell. As a Beta, Ron did not possess a knot, and this was the first time that she had the chance to see one up close, at least while lucid.
It was slightly flared, swollen on the sides, as pink as his tip. It was beautiful, she thought, remembering what it felt like to have it inside of her, stretching her to the max.
Carefully, she licked along the edge, flicking her tongue against his knot. He moaned, a whine escaping from his mouth. She kept it up, little kittenish licks all along the base, before pulling a bit of it into her mouth and softly sucked.
His entire body jolted, and she knew that he was finally awake and aware of her efforts. A large hand snaked down to thread between her curls, tenderly rubbing at her scalp, approving and appreciative.
"Little Omega," he croaked out groggily. "What are you doing down there?"
Hermione knew the question was rhetorical and chose to respond by giving his rapidly expanding knot another suck. From her limited experimentation, it seemed as if it was almost as sensitive as the frenulum. She took the flat of her tongue and swirled, tracing all along the edge.
He cried out, his entire body shuddering. She sucked a little bit, the tang of her slick flooding her mouth, sending a rewarding sense of possession through her body. Experimenting, she began to hum, sending miniature vibrations directly into his knot. Malfoy made a desperate sound, a long, low growl, and then he came, ejaculate shooting out and marking his belly, tacky and white.
She had to squeeze her knees together, and hard, her arousal buzzing between her legs. But she was committed to making this about him, to show her appreciation, after the entirety of her heat had been all about her.
His come was still all over his stomach, and she moved up, beginning to lap it up with her tongue. His salty, bitter essence coated her tongue, and she couldn't help but moan to have a bit of him inside of her again.
Only once she had fully licked him clean did she surface at the top of the bed, smiling shyly, categorising the expression on his face. He looked pleased, satiated and perfectly mussed. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her down into a crushing kiss.
It was so hot, knowing that he could taste himself on the tongue, that she made a little moan. In the blink of an eye, she was flipped onto her back, Malfoy's gorgeous face hovering above her. Blond hair fell down, framing him in the most appealing way. Her fingers automatically went to smooth back a pale lock that hung down in front of his eye, and he leaned in slightly to her touch.
He reached down and spread her legs, deft fingers going to her slit, running through the gathered wetness that had settled in between her folds. She wouldn't be quite as wet as she was during her heat, but she was still an Omega, made to be bred and fucked.
Malfoy pressed open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, making her shiver with need. His tongue swirled along delicate skin, sucking lightly as he went.
Silver eyes locked onto hers, and she felt the head of his cock nudge at her opening. The burning was back, not the all-consuming fire of her heat, but something a little more subtle but still powerful, impossible to be denied.
He thrusted forward, cramming himself inside. She was the tiniest bit sore, and there was a bit of a sting, which was soon replaced by a pleasant stretch. Hermione let out a small sigh, feeling complete, stuffed full.
It started off gently, tenderly, with slow rolls of his hips, his thick length dragging along her walls. His mouth landed on hers, his tongue licking the inside of her mouth. She groaned, intent on calling out for him, but instead, he kissed the sound of his name from her mouth. Before long, she felt molten, hot with need, burning from the inside out.
"Please, Alpha," she started, a familiar exchange falling with ease from her lips. He sustained his pace, keeping her hovering on the precipice, on the verge of combustion.
His only answer was pick up the pace, just enough to make her lose control. Flashes of what had happened between them during her heat flashed behind her closed lids, each memory more erotic than the last.
Malfoy reaching to grab her throat, squeezing along the sides, holding her in place as he roughly took what he needed from her. The two of them, in the shower, cool water soaking their skin, her breasts and face pushed against the smooth tile as his fingers wrapped around her hair. Malfoy fucking her shallow and slow, his knot still partially inflated from their last tryst, which had ended only moments before, keeping them locked into place, too far gone with need to wait even another minute.
The scent of him, mixed with hers, filling every single corner of her flat. The marks on her neck, which he obsessively tongued, reminding her over and over again that she was his. Dark eyes watching her closely, examining her every breath, every moan, watching as she broke apart, babbling, crying, calling out his name.
The past slammed into the present as he gave her one particularly filthy roll of his hips. Her body, so responsive to his touch, thrummed, tension building. Her jaw softened as her breath quickened, her eyes locking onto his.
"Omega," he rasped, then dropped a kiss to her neck, directly below his bite. Her mating gland quivered, still tender, the skin stretched taut. She arched, trying to push more of the sensitive flesh into his mouth.
Each stroke brought her closer to the edge. With his next thrust, she felt his knot, swelling, preparing to push inside.
She imagined it, how it would feel to be stretched around it. There was a vague recollection of what it was like during her heat, but it felt like something from a dream. Hermione needed it to be real, needed to know what it felt like when it was just the two of them, without her heat and his rut compelling them.
His face was so beautiful above hers, and she wondered how she never seen it before. How was it possible that this perfect man, her Alpha, had been so close to her this whole time and yet she had never actually seen him? His was the face she wanted to look into for the rest of her life.
A wave of tenderness seized her, and from the look in his eye, she could tell that he felt it too. The bond between them was still a fragile, delicate thing. Over time, it would strengthen and deepen, becoming almost an extension of themselves.
Experimentally, she followed the thread that connected them, pushing her senses outward, trying to feel for him. Faintly, in the distance, she thought she felt something and sought it out. And then it clicked, coming into focus. She could feel him, his awe and his desire, his lust and his happiness. Hermione could even feel another thread, dark and possessive, that coiled around the rest.
It was the darkness that made her so sure of their match. It called to the dark part of her soul that lived within her, too. She let him see that part of her now, to show him that she wasn't afraid of that part of him, that she relished it in him as much as she relished it in herself.
His mouth met her again, and she arched, the added sensation enough to cause her to fall apart. She moaned loudly against his lips, and he swallowed it, consuming it much in the way that he had consumed her. Her walls clenched down as they fluttered around his cock, her orgasm exploding, taking her almost by surprise.
"Fuck," he groaned, breaking the kiss and pushing his forehead against hers. "You're going to make me come, Omega."
At his words, her walls pulsed, squeezing him. He groaned, his control disappearing, as he began to thrust harder, setting an unforgiving pace. She felt his hips stutter, and then he came with a broken cry.
His knot fully inflated, and before she knew it, he was pushing it inside. The stretch was obscene, making her experience a fullness so pleasurable that she came again, her whole body quivering around him.
They were locked together, so he rocked against her, giving her just enough sensation to prolong her orgasm.
"Such a good girl, taking my knot," he growled in her ear as he ground against her with his hips.
She sighed, the stretch of his knot feeling like bliss. Malfoy rolled them over onto their sides, and she gently stroked his hair with her hand, staring into the depths of his eyes.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, his gaze soft and tender.
"Good. The heat has passed. I feel like myself again. Only different now that I've presented. It's strange, I feel like I finally found a piece of myself that's always been missing."
Malfoy hummed. "I remember what it was like when I first presented. Like a truth that had always been lingering just beneath the surface, finally breaking through."
"Yes," she agreed. "I can't believe it took me so long to present, though. I was so sure that I was a Beta."
"And how are you feeling about this? About it being me? That it's my knot that's buried inside of you right now? My bite that is on your neck?"
Hermione flushed, the words somehow making the experience all the more real. It was true that she had become more comfortable around Malfoy over the years and considered him to be her friend. But having him take her through her heat, that was a different level of intimacy than she had ever experienced before.
"I don't have any regrets if that's what you're asking. Sure, I couldn't have anticipated this happening, and it's true that things are complicated, since Ron still lives here and I owe him a conversation. But the truth remains the same. You are my mate. I have no doubt about that. We belong together."
"Omega," he rumbled, the word sounding like a pet name.
It wasn't until the light streaming into the room changed, becoming brighter, that they finally parted. Her bones were weary, every muscle ached from use. Malfoy slid his arms under her and gathered her up, placing her gently into a tub whose water had been warmed to the perfect temperature.
She lay against him, her back to his front, with his arms wrapped around her lovingly. Here she felt safe and warm, perfectly content. With reverence, he washed her, starting with her body, before carefully running his fingers through her hair, massaging shampoo through her scalp.
He was so attuned to her needs, both thanks to his Alpha instincts and also from the insights of their fresh bond. It was such a stark difference from how she had been feeling in her relationship with Ron, neglected and often ignored. When she looked back at their relationship, it was obvious now that they had never belonged together, even before she had presented.
There would be a time to grieve that relationship, but for now, she was aglow with the aftermath of her first heat spent with her Alpha.
Their fingers were both pruney by the time they got out of the tub, Malfoy patting her dry and bundling her in a soft towel, before laying her down on the bed as if she were something precious.
He then unwrapped her like a gift, the towel sliding down and exposing her naked body, as Malfoy pressed kisses along every available inch of skin. She felt delirious, her body still more sensitive than usual, the rough scruff of his stubble scraping along her, making her shiver.
When he pried her knees apart, she was ready for him, soaking wet. He teased her, kissing in straight lines up her inner thighs all the way to the apex, only to switch sides and start the process all over again.
She was nearly sobbing when he finally brought his mouth to her aching cunt, running his tongue first through her centre, then circling her clit. She arched when he made contact, the buildup making it almost too much to bear.
Malfoy made love to her with his mouth, taking his time, savouring the taste of her. She was wrung out by the swirl of his tongue and the nuzzle of his nose, by his thick fingers penetrating her.
Silver eyes watched her, cataloguing her every moan, every sigh. He worshipped her, and when she came, she screamed his name as he lapped, drawing every last bit of her orgasm from her body.
Hermione was exhausted after, fighting to keep her eyes open, blinking heavily. Malfoy kissed his way back up her body before pulling her close, kissing her forehead, right on the little spot that made her tingle.
There, fully content and safe in the warm embrace of her Alpha, Hermione Granger went to sleep and dreamed of the future.