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Chapter Text

There was a snag in her favorite jumper, her knee was throbbing with pain, her beaded bag now sported blackened singe marks, and as if all that wasn’t enough, Hermione's portkey had slipped from her grasp and rolled under her desk with only six seconds remaining until its scheduled departure.

The cat's eye marble had vanished only a few centimeters from her outstretched fingers, which was why she was currently lying face down on her office floor, lamenting over how she’d had such rotten luck for months.

She didn’t even believe in luck, but despite her disbelief, she couldn’t deny the glaringly obvious truth that something was wrong.

Something that was causing her trouble. Like when she’d scraped her shoulder leaving the shop after buying her morning tea. Or when she’d tripped over her own shoe next to the atrium fountain.

And then there was her bag—

"You know, when most people have a lie-in, they skip the whole coming to work part. Are you alright?"

She didn't bother to pick her forehead off the floor as she answered Harry. “Not really.”

“Want to talk about—" His tone shifted from concerned to confused. "What exactly are you doing?”

She groaned. "I'm licking my wounds in peace before I have to walk out there and let everyone know I completely wasted a highly regulated magical item." The embarrassment burned, but at least the cool flooring felt nice. "If they hadn't ignored the request to fix my temperature charms again..." 

Or if she could figure out why, even with her office warded and silenced, the proximity to her fellow Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures staff still left her body intolerably tense and uncoordinated…

"Feels fine to me. I tried to get here before you were set to leave, but the apothecary was behind again. Have you...erm, had time to check your extension charm?"

She had, in fact, not had time.

Not even in the twelve hours since Harry had interrupted her reparo mid-cast and somehow caused sparks to rebound right onto her bag.

"It's fine,” she assured him anyway. “Just burned off some of the beading." Which she also needed more time than she had to fix properly.

"Oh, good, Gin didn't think I apologized enough. You aren't cancelling, are you? I'd offer to take you, but...well, I don’t know if leaving her is..." He sighed. "I'm not sure I could."

A sharp pang of sympathy arced through her. Ginny was sick. It had been almost too painful to sit across from the newlywed couple at the small send-off they had organized for Hermione the previous night. Ginny didn’t allow herself to show it, other than perhaps being a bit more subdued, but her magic had weakened so much she’d stopped joining in on weekend quidditch matches for fear of not being able to control her broom.

She and Harry were dealing, but Hermione knew it was taking a toll on both of them. 

And yes, she realized how ridiculous it was to question her friends’ ability to navigate their hardships while she was currently allowing a handful of mishaps to send her into an attempt to become one with the tiles of her office floor, but that was besides the point. 

She only needed a break. Preferably a quiet one. Away from people.

Harry's hand appeared in her line of sight. "Alright, up you get, I'll walk you to the portkey office."

Deciding she had sufficiently wallowed in her misery, Hermione finally lifted her head. "Will you recast the wards for me? I'm not using my wand near you." She swung her damaged bag protectively behind her as she let him help her regain her feet.

Hermione wasn't blaming him. Or others. It wasn't that anyone was doing anything wrong. They weren't doing anything at all. But as she followed Harry down to the Department for Transportation, she was acutely aware of how much her proximity to other people set her teeth on edge. 

It was like an imbalance of her magical energy. One no one seemed to be aware of except for her. Like everyone near her was somehow pulling at the loose threads of her power, begging for her attention and leaving her distracted and depleted and confused.

It was making her feel the slightest bit insane.

Which was why, when she'd received the exclusive invitation for the fourteen day magi-scientific field study to be conducted in a remote section of the Forbidden Forest, she'd pounced on the opportunity immediately.

And now she was set to make a terrible first impression with the group of herbologists, magizoologists, and magimycologists by showing up late. She couldn't even think of how the centaurs would react.

When they finally reached their destination, Hermione's feet stuttered in the entrance before a few wizards behind them came so close she had no choice but to file into the small office anyway. 

She stiffened, physically bracing herself for an assault on her nervous system, thankful that at least most of the patrons had business not related to long distance travel.

"Ms. Granger, what are you doing here?" The man behind the counter asked. He reminded her vaguely of Slughorn and had helped her secure the marble only a few days ago. "Was there a problem with your portkey?"

"No, no." She waved him off. "The fault is my own. I'll have to trouble you for a replacement though."

"Well you see, erm..."

"Found the bloody thing." A taller man appeared from the storeroom behind the counter, sidling up to the professor-look-alike with a triumphant grin.

The man assisting her grimaced. "You see, our last portkey to the Forbidden Forest has been spoken for already.”

“Wha—? Who else would need it?” She couldn’t help voicing her surprise aloud. It wasn’t like she was trying to get to some coveted holiday locale. No one was even permitted into the forest without the approval of the centaur herd.

"Ah, well, I hope you know I would tell you if I were allowed to reveal personal information.”

“Of course,” she said, an idea forming as she spoke. "But if I wait here while you make a new one for me, it would be plausible to expect I'd cross paths with the person picking this up?”

The man grinned and leaned over the counter onto his forearm. “It will take several hours for us to create a new one. But if you did happen to notice when this is collected, I'm sure you could make an arrangement with the recipient to be able to leave much sooner."

She flashed a conspiratorial grin. “Seeing as how I am officially on holiday, it’s no trouble at all for me to wait.”

She felt a hand on her shoulder. "I'll just fly you. We don't even know who you're waiting for,” Harry said.

As if she’d ask him to leave Ginny. 

"They're obviously part of the study so we'll be spending two weeks together anyway. It can't be anyone too bad. Besides, I'd sooner walk,” she shuddered at the mere thought of broom travel, then solidified her determination to follow through with the plan of magical hitchhiking. “This invitation is unprecedented, and you know the herd won't forgive my tardiness. It could jeopardize not only my trip but the integrity of the study for everyone.” 

She didn’t miss Harry’s small sigh of relief as they moved towards the row of wooden chairs beside the entrance. 

"You're sure?"

“Of course. I'll see you in two weeks. Tell Ginny to write in the message notebook I left. And I’d better hear from you at least once."

“I’ll do my best,” he said through a light laugh, giving her a hasty side hug. “Be careful, alright.”

“I’m studying trees with a bunch of scientists,” she deadpanned. “I don’t expect anything outlandish to happen.” 

“But given our history there, it’s probably best not to take risks.”

“Believe me, I don’t intend to. Resting and recharging are on top of my to-do list. Risk-taking has been firmly crossed out.”

Harry waved as he passed through the doorway, and Hermione took a seat along the wall to wait for her unknown traveling companion. She pulled her bag into her lap to get her new book on advanced leaf identification. It took a bit of force, but she finally pried the text free.

She had only been reading for about fifteen minutes when the attendant called her over, speaking loudly enough the entire office could listen in. “I’m terribly sorry, my dear, this is the only one we have available, and actually it belongs to this gentleman right here.”

The man waved an upturned hand just as someone stepped into the space beside her. Someone tall. 

Very tall. 

And so close her next inhale carried the faint scent of woodsmoke and pine resin.

She tilted her head back to see who she would need to convince to allow her to share a portkey. 

Her confidence flickered.

Because she was staring at a face she'd not seen in person for three years.

Her body mimicked a fawn when he peered down at her.

"Granger." The unexpectedly low timbre of the voice belonging to Draco Malfoy jolted her back to the present. "You look like you've lost a duel."

Of course he was still the same arsehole he'd always been.

"You?" she said, mentally shaking herself, unable to keep the scathing venom from her voice after processing the realization of her childhood enemy being selected for the same undertaking she’d been offered. "You're going to research the weakening mycorrhizal network in the trees of the Forbidden Forest?"

"No," he said, his disapproval obvious as he studied her with an intensity that made her feel her every flaw was on display.

She relaxed at his denial.

"I'm studying the failing Root Sprite population."

"Same thing,” she gritted, releasing an angry breath. “How did you even get invited? Don't tell me you have nothing better to spend your galleons on."

He glared, reaching over to the counter, taking the small bag containing the object they both needed and slipping it into his trouser pocket. "A personal project. One I've earned the right to pursue. Nice to see you've matured since our time at school." 

The top of his nose wrinkled slightly as his brows drew together, but he'd shifted his gaze towards the wall, frowning as if he'd found something disturbing in his own words. 

She had no idea what it could possibly be.

“Look,” she said, swallowing her pride at needing help from Malfoy of all people. “I…had an issue with my portkey, and, as you might have heard, there aren’t any left, so I need to hitch a ride with you.”

Malfoy stared at her as if she’d lost her proverbial marbles along with the real one she’d dropped in her office. 

Without any further discussion, he thanked the attendant, angled sharply towards the exit, and then walked off, leaving Hermione staring after him in open-mouthed disbelief.

Of course she chased him, but thanks to his much longer legs and the still crowded corridor, he easily outpaced her.

She reached the lift with only enough time to watch Malfoy smirk as he disappeared from her view. 

Luckily, the second lift was free and she darted into it, her nerves at their peak as she rode towards the ministry entrance in pursuit.

Hermione canvased the atrium as soon as she arrived, and as she expected, it was easy to zero in on Malfoy's bright blond hair, especially since he towered over everyone around.

She forced herself to ignore the madness of sprinting through her workplace.

Hermione caught up to him at the fountain, exactly where she'd fallen that morning. When she got near enough, she tugged on the crook of his arm, and Malfoy rounded on her so abruptly, she almost tripped again. 

She ignored his glare, but she did drop her hand on reflex. "You're seriously not going to let me join you?"

Malfoy's defensive posture shifted to casual ease once more. "You know how it is, Granger. Only child. Rich. Spoiled. Trained by dark wizards. Never did learn to share."

"Malfoy, please." She hadn't at all meant to sound so pitiful, but it wasn't like she could take it back now so she might as well use it to her advantage. He made her feel absurdly small towering over her, but she held his gaze. "I'll owe you."

Something flashed across his face but she couldn't decipher the exact nature of it. "Owe me what?"

"I don't know," she rushed out, not really caring, her need to keep from ruining the opportunity for everyone if she didn’t show up on time overriding any other thought, "whatever you want."

He peered down down at her, a hint of disdain in his guarded expression. "First you insult me, and now you're offering me a favor of my choosing?" They both watched a wizard approach the fountain only for him to turn and flee in the opposite direction upon noticing Malfoy there. "Of course I couldn't be lucky enough you’d avoid me like everyone else."

"Everyone does that?" Sure, she had been a hint of a bitch to him at first. But old habits don't just die after a few years of absence, and the two of them had a complicated history. But he’d been exonerated and made his reparations for his part in the war. He’d publicly disavowed his death eater status. It didn’t mean she’d forgiven him for being a bigoted prat to her for so many years, but she wasn’t afraid of him. 

She did have a right to her distrust of him though. 

But most of the people milling around the ministry had probably never even met him. She glanced around, her annoyance growing with each anxious expression she took in around them.

Malfoy’s growl-like exhale brought her attention back to him. "If you go all bleeding-heart on me, I'm leaving you here."

She snapped her eyes back to his. "Wait…You’ll take me?"

In answer, he glared at her while he dug the small bag from his pocket and tipped its contents into his palm, leaving a tiny wooden star there. 

Hermione only stared at his proffered hand, the shock of his decision to allow her to join him sending her body into an immobilized state. 

"Twelve seconds, Granger."

Before she could think of a better option, Hermione placed her own hand into his palm, almost as if she were accepting an invitation to dance with him.

His hand was warm against hers, and despite the absurdity of the circumstances, her body slowly uncoiled in relief, anticipating the balm to her raw nerves the quiet forest was sure to provide. 

Tightening his grip, Malfoy brought her hand closer, his eyes tracing the jagged pink scrapes crossing her knuckles from an unfortunate encounter in the greenhouse the week before. "What happened to yours?"

The pull of the portkey surprised her, even though she'd expected it. It was almost violent in its speed of transportation, and they landed more harshly than she'd ever experienced before, causing her to stumble forward a little. 

Malfoy's firm grip stabilized her, keeping her from falling on her arse for the second time in a day.

He gritted a curse as he let go. "Your portkey. What happened to it?"

"It left without me. Because I dropped it and couldn't get to it in time."

She crossed her arms, anticipating belittlement, but thankfully he kept his mouth shut, each of them focusing instead on taking in their new surroundings.

They had landed inside a circle of giant Scots pines, their trunks wide enough she could have held her arms straight out in front of one and still would not have been able to be seen from the opposite side.

She could see the small crowd not far from them, beyond the largest break between the towering trees, so she started in the direction of the rest of their research group, hyperaware of Malfoy following close behind. 

She didn't see any of the centaurs yet, but she knew from experience that didn't mean they weren't nearby, watching every move each of the guests made inside their territory. 

With how she'd been feeling around others lately, Hermione paused a good distance away, not willing to brave weaving her way to the front as she normally would have. 

Malfoy paused after overtaking her, turning and giving her a curious look. But his expression quickly smoothed into casual indifference. "See you around, Granger. I expect you to follow through when it's time for me to call in that favor."

"Wha—are you serious?"

He shrugged, his eyes clearly amused at her distress. "You said I could have whatever I want. I'll let you know when I'm sure of what that is."

Her mouth parted in outrage. "You can't hold it over my head this whole time. That isn't fair."

He arched a pale brow at her. “Should teach you not to make idiotic bargains in the future."

He gave her a final smirk and then swaggered to the front of the group, leaving Hermione staring slack-jawed at his back once again.

What an absolute prick.

It seemed her luck was only going to get worse.

Chapter Text

“As you can observe with the time-lapse enchantment, the damage to the Root Sprite colony has become critical and is causing trouble throughout the entire forest. This mother tree is essential to the life and growth of the surrounding trees, particularly to the saplings, as you all know, diverting nutrients and water in times of drought or stress. The effects are far reaching. We do not take lightly that this birch, or as it is known by the centaurs, the Dawn Tree, was the first to show signs of distress.”

Hermione only half listened to her former professor and the coordinator for their magi-scientific study, Pomona Sprout. 

After the short witch had finished her welcome address, she had beckoned the group to follow her to the site that had driven her to organize the event in the first place.

Sprout’s speech reminded Hermione far too much of a classroom lecture, but even if it had been more appropriate for the audience of those with advanced scientific credentials, she wasn’t sure she would have been able to shift her focus from the fascinating and powerful spell underneath her feet.

Those who had performed the magic—Hermione had no doubt it included at least a dozen and suspected they were non-human in species—had disillusioned the soil beneath the giant silver trunk of the mature birch tree to appear as clear as polished glass, allowing a perfect view of the expansive root system and of the interactions within its rhizosphere. Just as impressive was the time-lapse spell, which Sprout had informed them began the year prior and ended at the present time, updating continuously and playing on repeat, the yellow-green glow of the almost imperceptibly small Root Sprites fading alarmingly fast as the current time neared. 

It was beautiful and haunting, wondrous and grim. A feat of magic she was sure they all would have celebrated had it not revealed the severity of the damaged mycologically based magical creatures and thus the interruption to their symbiotic relationship with the forest trees. 

“I would like us to begin searching the area for signs of deficiency or disease, with the greatest care being given to the youngest growth.” Sprout performed a quick incantation, leaving a glowing yellow ring around a nearby trunk. “We’ll mark potentially endangered ones like so, with yellow for those needing attention and blue for those requiring a more urgent response. Your enchanted maps will record everyone’s progress as well as aid in your navigation.”

Several people looked around nervously.

“Ah, I almost forgot, there's no reason to be concerned about the dark reputation of the forest. Our hosts have formed a perimeter around the camp, and the herd elders have promised to redirect any dangerous creatures and to ensure the safety of everyone here. You’ll see my assistant, Mr. Longbottom, frequently as well as he is overseeing the data collection for the duration of our stay. He is well equipped to aid you if you find yourself in less than ideal situations. I have the utmost confidence in him and in the centaur herd, and you should as well. Like the forest, we all stand to benefit from working in harmony with one another.”

Not everyone looked appeased. 

Quick with the damage control, Sprout added, “Of course, I had hoped everyone would choose a partner as an extra precaution and as an effort to reduce the chances of overlooking any defects among the trees.”

Hermione barely contained her verbal disagreement. 

It would also take twice as long, taking valuable time away from the more important tasks of actually doing something to fix whatever problem had caused the Root Sprites to die.

No one else seemed to share her sentiment though, hastily pairing up until she was alone on one side of the now much happier group, while Malfoy, who was also alone, stood on the other. 

He smirked and tipped his folded map towards her, but she rolled her eyes and started off in the opposite direction. 

A surreptitious glance over her shoulder revealed he’d headed farther away from her as well, and she breathed in a healthy gulp of fresh forest air, relieved at finally being free to find a moment of solitude and peace. 

Once alone, her limbs felt instantly more lithe and cooperative.

Maybe missing the introductions had worked in her favor after all as she’d been able to avoid anyone paying her much attention. Especially since she’d remained somewhat removed from the crowd the entire morning.

With the intention of surveying an area where she was unlikely to be bothered, she studied the map as she walked. It didn’t chart individuals, she was happy to see, not wanting anyone to be able to track her just because she was one of only two who’d chosen to remain alone. It only took a handful of minutes for some of the grid-squares to begin to change from the color of parchment into a translucent grayish green as everyone began. 

She had overheard a few grumblings from others about conducting the search manually, but Hermione didn't mind. Especially since she agreed that it would return more nuanced results than a spell could produce.

Following the azimuth produced by her magical map, Hermione hiked towards the perimeter of their research site, flicking her wand to mark saplings with yellowing leaves, damaged bark, or an excess of broken stems as she went along. Her alarm grew as she traveled farther into the depth of the ancient wood, the sheer number of times she needed to cast the yellow or blue bands far exceeding her initial expectations. 

There were just so many. 

It would only be a matter of time before the deficiencies in the soil began to bleed over into all the species of flora, and then the fauna would suffer soon after. If left unchecked, the wizarding community would lose access to a multitude of rare potion ingredients, the dying Root Sprites creating a cascade effect that would eventually harm them all. 

It suddenly made much more sense why the centaurs would break their long-held refusal to allow anyone from the wizarding community into the area they were now studying.

Everyone's survival depended on finding a solution.

Maneuvering through the rocky terrain with relative ease and only needing her wand to slice through overgrowth in a few places, Hermione finally reached the grid she'd chosen, the contour lines inside the square of her map indicating a little valley beneath a hill on one side and an incline on the other that led beyond their designated area's edge to an expansive flatland. 

She began on the side of the hill, following her map to make sure she remained on a straight course, working slowly, careful to inspect each tree thoroughly for signs of trouble. 

Once she reached the line on the opposite side of the map, she turned and began the process again a few paces away, her worry increasing at the number of struggling saplings she had to tag.

The work was tedious and tiring, but it was necessary.

And oddly soothing in its repetition.

By the time Hermione reached the valley, the land she'd come from had transformed into a scene littered with glowing stripes of color. 

Sitting on a small moss covered boulder to rest, she opened her beaded bag to find her water. The container proved even more difficult to remove than the book she'd read that morning. She could feel the shapes of a few of her larger items that had toppled onto it and were preventing her from wrenching it free.

She groaned in frustration.

It was a problem she didn't have time for, and even if she did, she didn't know if she trusted herself enough to attempt to fix it. Or even to brave a summoning charm. She'd had an uneventful few hours, but she still couldn't be sure when she'd lapse back into her unlucky state.

As she stood to brace herself on the rock while pulling at her stuck drink container, she could hear footsteps approaching behind her. 

With a frantic tug, she finally pried the water from the bag, but what she thought looked very much like her new book flew out with it, striking a patch of moss on the rock face to her side and causing both it and the book to fall into the leaf litter on the ground. 

The thick clump of moss had been covering a small hole at the base of the rocks and with its entrance exposed, she could see a soft yellow glow coming from inside it. 

When she leaned in for a closer look, a handful of tiny red creatures scurried from the opening, their appearance coinciding with a shower of flying and swirling embers, and Hermione stumbled backwards to avoid any more flame-based damage to her belongings.

But then her back hit something solid, and she tripped in the direction of the rocks once more in an attempt to get away from whatever she’d just run into.

The sudden movements caused her to pitch forward and lose her balance.

Moss softened the blow where she’d reached out to catch herself before hitting the stones, but she’d also struck the ground with her knee.

Again.

She cursed at the sharp pain and shoved her hair away from her face because it had somehow snapped the tie holding it back. 

As she did, she found Neville standing above her, holding a roll of parchment in one hand while poorly concealing an amused grin with his other.

"Hermione, I was hoping to run into you sometime today."

The little amphibians that had caused their collision—and her mortifying display of gracelessness—were nowhere in sight as she regained her upright stance and brushed herself off. "Not quite so literally, I hope."

Neville laughed, a deep sound that was well suited to their setting. "Don't think I've seen you since the wedding. The Potters doing alright?"

"Mostly," she offered a bright smile and quickly averted to another topic of conversation. "How was your school year?"

"Long, but whatever you had going on there just reminded me how much I miss the chaos."

She grimaced but truly didn't mind his good-natured ribbing. "That bad?"

"You'll think me a shite professor for saying it, but my first years were absolute menaces. And not in a clever way. I think they may have been worse than I was at their age. Had to charm the greenhouse to automatically extinguish flames during class hours."

She laughed. That was bad. "Not looking forward to the end of summer, then, I’d expect?"

"Actually, I am,” he said. “With Pomona stepping down as head of the department, I'll finally be able to make the adjustments I want. My students are trying, but it's clear with how they are handling the major stress left over by the war that they'd benefit from a change. I want to make sure they have the resources they need to thrive.” He scratched at his jaw for a moment. “Even the ones who don't show an interest in herbology."

"You seem really good for them," Hermione said, sincerely meaning it.

"I try to be. There are a few of us there who have worked hard to improve things for the future.” A fond smile crossed his face. “Speaking of the future, come on, let me show you the herd's newly appointed alphas."

She let him lead her up the incline opposite to the one she’d already observed. "I know wild horses have a hierarchy they adhere to, but I've never read anything about centaurs doing the same."

"It's not something they often share with humans. This group has just taken up the responsibility of stargazing and interpreting signs and omens. The elders lead and offer guidance, but the younger alphas protect the others and are charged with providing insight for the future. They each have their own subset of the herd to look after, but they practice divination together. They should all be gathered by now."

It only took them a few minutes to walk to the border, the trees thinning to an open meadow where dozens of the large creatures roamed. A group of them formed a ring close to the forest edge where Hermione and Neville stood while many others stood back to watch the ceremony.

"It's not socially acceptable to interrupt so we'll have to save introductions for later."

The centaurs circled a pit of burning foliage, the cloying earthy scent indicating the mound at least partially consisted of mallowsweet. 

As thick curls of smoke rose higher than the equine-like creatures' heads, Hermione could make out short murmured phrases, their voices overlapping and belying varying degrees of urgency.

“The unicorn..."

"The salamander…”

“...one and six…”

“Mother..."

"...and Creator…”

“A powerful combination…”

"...what the astral procession promised…”

She had to fight against her body to keep it from becoming visibly irritated. She'd never been overly fond of divination, but after what had happened to Harry in their childhood, and to everyone else by default, she'd come to downright despise it. Not necessarily because she still didn't believe in it. Prophecies had been proven true at least a few times. 

But, in her experience, the people who learned what the future held never used the information for anything good. 

As Hermione watched the fire burn higher, an older centaur she recognized as one who had fought alongside them at the Battle of Hogwarts approached, her dark braids shifting with the movement of her gait. 

"She's one of the elders," Neville said, reverence shading his words.

As the horse-bodied woman neared, the signs of her age became more apparent, streaks of grey in her hair and tail, fine creases marking her face, and a coat that lacked the high luster of youth. The inevitable sigils of time did nothing, however, to distract from the woman's sovereign demeanor.

Hooves nearly silent as she came to a stop before them, she nodded to Neville then turned. "Hermione Granger. You've given much to be here."

Unsure of how to answer without encouraging any unsolicited fortune-telling, Hermione gave a respectful nod. "I wish our presence weren't necessary, but I hope we can help."

"Our first encounter left little time for proper greetings. I am Maia."

Their history of fighting side by side against dark magic wielding humans was another topic Hermione could do without. 

She scanned the grassy field as she replied. "I'm interested to hear your own methods for rehabilitating the forest. Only if you are inclined to share, of course."

Maia turned her head towards the ones Neville had said were the herd’s alphas. "They will guide us in the revelations of what we all must do." Turning back, she smiled serenely. "The two of you have arrived at a fortuitous time. I'm eager to hear what the smoke has revealed to us about your entwined paths."

Hermione did not like the direction the conversation had taken. 

In fact, she fucking hated it.

She feigned an interest for as long as she could stomach, but when Maia gave no further information and began just watching the two of them, Hermione made a show of looking to the sky to check the position of the sun before bowing her head in deference. "Right, well, I think I should start heading back. Still have some unpacking to do." She turned towards Neville, finding his face had darkened a little, the easygoing smile he'd worn before nowhere to be seen. "Lunch tomorrow?"

She'd packed the majority of her meals, but she also wanted to catch up with him without the addition of cryptic phrases and utter nonsense.

Neville snapped out of whatever had concerned him. "Sure, I'll be the one bringing it in from Hogsmeade. You can help me set up if you're interested."

Nodding her approval, she began to back away, and Neville turned to continue speaking with Maia in a tone too low for Hermione to hear.

But before she lost view of the meadow entirely, a flash of pale blonde caught her eye along the edge of the adjacent tree-line, causing her to stall in her retreat. It was almost too far for her to make out Malfoy's sharp features as he stood with two centaurs whose coats were nearly the same shade as his hair. 

But she had no doubt that it was him.

She kept watching as Malfoy stretched out his closed fist, placing whatever it was he held into one centaur’s open palm. The one who accepted the unknown offering brought it closer to his and his companion's faces. 

It was hard to tell, but she thought she saw one of them nod before they both trotted off towards the woods on the other side of the clearing.

Trailing her gaze back to where Malfoy stood, she found him eerily still, and despite the distance, she somehow felt down to the most basic cell structures of her biological makeup that he had locked her in his sight, too.

The realization startled her, spiking her pulse and giving her a nonsensical urge to flee.

But since she'd done nothing wrong and hadn't even been able to see what his reason for conversing with the magical creatures was, she forced herself to turn slowly, taking carefully diminutive steps until she was once again enveloped in the shaded wood and the concealment it provided. 

Once back in the valley of the area she'd been searching before, Hermione sat onto the rock beside the tiny fire-lit cave. She focused on the crisp scent of the pines and lingering smoke from the alphas' attempt to decipher their fire-omens and worked to calm herself, deciding vehemently she'd wait until everyone else had turned in for the evening before she asked Sprout to direct her towards her sleeping quarters. 

She really needed to keep further social interactions to a minimum. 

At least most of her day had been peaceful, the hours she'd spent in the quiet section of forest making her feel more relaxed than she had in months despite the exertion of continuous physical activity. 

Still, a troubling thought had taken root in her mind ever since she'd heard the words of the centaur elder.

She didn't want to believe it, but she couldn't shake the lingering suspicion that somehow her night would not be peaceful at all.

Chapter Text

Self-fulfilling prophecy was a fucking bitch.

Hermione had followed through with her plan to wait until nightfall to seek clarity about what was to be her living space for the duration of her trip. 

She’d read some of her book, managed to wrestle a makeshift meal from her bag, relished the serene walk back to their main camp guided by the glow of her lumos, and even had the good fortune of finding her former professor all alone in the central building they were to use for meals and meetings.

That was where her earlier suspicions had come back to bite her in the arse.

"I'm afraid there is nothing I can do, Ms. Granger," Sprout said, the woman's jovial tone lacking any element of the contrition Hermione thought it ought to have after the utterly shite news she'd just delivered. "Cabins were open for selection before the first speech. Since you arrived late, they've already been claimed, except for the one. And since Mr. Malfoy also failed to get here in a timely manner, he's the only available option for you to share with."

It was bad enough Hermione had to have a roommate, but of everyone there, Malfoy was the least likely one to cohabitate with her amicably. She'd probably have better chances sleeping under the sky with the centaurs. 

A manic laugh threatened to escape her mouth, but she held it back. "I wasn't aware we wouldn't have privacy..." She scrubbed a hand over the side of her face, forcing herself to calm her anger-laden voice. "I can switch with someone, I'll ask around, there's surely someone who would—"

"You could ask," Sprout said, cutting off Hermione's increasingly desperate denial, "but I doubt you'd have any luck. The remaining guests are…wary of him, to put it kindly. Honestly, you can't blame them for their reservations."

Hermione blinked at the woman in shock. "All of them?"

Managing to imbue her features with reprimand, the witch nodded, her patchwork hat wobbling precariously as she did. “A few have threatened to leave just because he’s here.”

Hermione had to take several breaths with her eyes closed.

Un-fucking-believable.

"I’d like to remind you, Ms. Granger, that you were given this opportunity because of your long-cultivated relationship with the centaur herd and your renowned dedication to protecting the magical community. Surely you can put aside childhood quarrels for a few days."

Glancing over Hermione's head, Sprout fidgeted with her wand, setting Hermione even more on edge and reminding her of every single interaction she'd had over the prior weeks. The accidents, the distractions, the never-ending social encounters that had made her skin buzz with irritation and oversensitivity. 

All she'd wanted was a few quiet days of rest, and losing that was sending her into a full-fledged meltdown. 

"No, I can't," she practically hissed.

The witch in front of her shifted with visible unease just as Hermione realized someone had filed in behind her.

Sprout pasted on a smile of threadbare sincerity. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy, are you all settled in?"

Hermione's stomach inverted itself as she belatedly realized a familiar scent had diffused into the air around her.

"Yes." 

Malfoy's answer was clipped and harsh and no doubt directed at her. 

She wasn't delusional enough to believe he hadn't overheard her reaction to being asked to stay with him.

Hermione peered over her shoulder, shrinking in on herself a little once she was hit with the full force of his dark countenance. 

But before she could even try to smooth things over, he walked towards the exit with the clear purpose of avoiding her and shouldered through it, leaving Hermione feeling not just raw and exposed but also guilty to an uncomfortable degree. 

Even though, she soothed herself, she had every right to her reluctance. She found the notion laughable that he would have agreed to stay with her without putting up some sort of fight as well.

She finally looked back to find Sprout eyeing her impatiently. 

Hermione sighed. "I have a tent. I could set it up in an approved location. I'll follow any guidance demanded by the herd." Her voice came out tinged with pleading again which she absolutely loathed. 

God, getting the tent out of her bag was going to be—

"I'm sorry, dear, but that won't be possible either."

"Why not?" She barely kept herself from yelling at the woman.

Sprout gave her a disapproving glare. "The Root Sprites are delicate as it stands. Any disturbance to the forest floor could impede their return to good health. If you wish to remain, the cabin is the only option."

She silently cursed as she weighed her choices.

She could share a cabin with Malfoy. Where he would no doubt torment her with constant reminders of the favor she'd recklessly promised him.

Or she could go back to her normal life full of responsibilities and engagements and likely end up in St. Mungo's because of it.

Or, she supposed she could go straight home to spend the rest of her holiday in bed.

Except then she wouldn't be able to help mitigate the devastating effects of what was happening to the forest trees.

It left her with only one viable solution.

"Fine," she groaned, but she actually felt like screaming. “I guess I can manage a few days.”

Weeks. Her mind unhelpfully corrected.

Sprout brightened. “Glad to hear it, dear. I look forward to your insight as we continue our mission.”

Hermione muttered a halfhearted thanks before trudging towards the door. Then she followed the path leading to the cabin, her irritation growing as she passed each of the other small stilted structures already occupied by her colleagues. 

The cabin she had been coerced into sharing with Malfoy was farther away from the rest, secluded in the dark shadows of the forest canopy, but it was at least much larger than the others. She could see the uneven outline of the thatched roof illuminated by the dim lighting lining the pathway.

Anxiety gripped her tighter with each stair step she climbed towards the door, but she didn't allow herself to slow as she entered the common area, taking in the comfortable furnishings, basic amenities, and welcoming woodsy scent. 

It was actually quite lovely. 

At least for the moment, as it was lacking the addition of her unwanted roommate. 

She could tell with certainty by how similar the space felt to the empty forest, peaceful and energizing rather than the constant drain she'd been suffering through everywhere else.

The door to one of the private sleeping areas was open, and Hermione rightly deduced that meant it was the one belonging to her, the small but cosy room containing not much more than a massive bed and a wardrobe for her belongings. 

And thankfully her own personal washroom.

With only minimal difficulty, she unpacked as much clothing as she could, worrying if she waited, her bag would become troublesome again. 

Because it went so well, she decided to brave mending the jumper she'd snagged that morning, and after a shower to rid herself of the long hours she'd spent in the forest, she put on a tank and shorts set, charmed her hair not to drip on anything as it air dried, and pulled her knit garment from the hamper to begin fixing it. 

She waved a quick cleaning charm over it first.

Mid-way into sitting onto her bed, Hermione paused, an admittedly ill-considered idea popping into her mind. 

She didn't owe Malfoy an explanation.

She had every right to her anger at being forced to stay with him. 

Even if her outrage had been solely driven by it being him rather than a desire to be alone, she still would have been entitled to it. 

She found herself walking to their shared central room and situating herself onto the sofa anyway.

If Malfoy happened to come back from wherever it was he'd gone while she worked, she'd explain why she'd gotten so upset. Not in detail, obviously, but enough to hopefully defuse a bit of his animosity towards her.

She took her time with her repairing spell—it really had taken her ages to knit—and then she held up the finished product in front of her, pleased with the results and with how her magic had cooperated in a way it hadn't in longer than she cared to think about.

It had been even easier to wield than she could manage in her flat, the other tenants in her building seemingly close enough to affect her.

While she was still looking for any other noticeable flaws in her stitches, the door swung open across the room. 

The interior one.

Quickly followed by Malfoy emerging from his personal space.

Surprised by the realization he'd been present the entire time, Hermione startled, hugging the jumper to herself. "Oh—you're here..."

Malfoy's entire body stiffened, then he turned towards where she sat, his eyes wide, clearly surprised to see her as well.

He altered his trajectory towards the kitchenette to instead come closer to her, pausing near enough to the sofa's side to make her irrationally nervous. The sleeveless black undershirt he wore bordered on the obscene in how it molded to his torso and left the cut muscles of his crossed arms just displayed and—

Oh goddamn fucking fuck.

She was going to hex Ginny Weasley so hard for showing her that photo in the Prophet and pointing out how insanely fit Malfoy had become in the past year.

As usual, the man in question reminded her exactly how poorly his personality matched his appearance just by forming words with his tongue.

"Why are you so astonished by my presence?" His low pitch charged the surrounding air with static. "What is it, Granger, thought I'd fucked off home just because Potter's princess threw a tantrum over having to stay under the same roof as me?"

She opened her mouth, closed it, then began again. "What...no, I—"

He cut her off with a dismissive noise. "Save yourself the trouble of inventing an excuse. It's not like I care. I have more important things to worry about than your poor opinion of me."

She tossed the jumper aside as she unfolded her legs from the sofa and stood, taking a step nearer to face him. "If you would just listen for two seconds..."

Malfoy's shift from irritation to something more akin to anger made her attempt at defense trail off into silence. 

It made her want to cower instinctively, but she refused to allow herself to do it even as he stared down at her with dark eyes and his jaw flexed to razor sharpness.

Oh, he was definitely angry. 

And his voice was laced with ire. "Why must you be such a goddamn constant contradiction?" 

She hadn't done anything besides stand and move a single step closer to him. 

Hardly a justification for his response.

"What are you even talking about?" She asked, her own frustration bleeding into her words, tingeing them with an unwanted tremble.

His eyes flicked to her bare feet, then he slowly trailed his gaze up the length of her body, leaving a burning flush of embarrassment on every millimeter of her skin as he completed his assessment and settled on her face once more. "If you believe someone a villain, at least have the good judgment not to traipse around in your underthings where they're likely to see."

A gritted curse escaped her before she could hold it in, and she waved a hand at herself. "These are normal clothes. I'm dressed for bed, you prick."

"Yes," he growled back, a slight sneer to his mouth, "but you aren't in your bed, are you?"

"Because I don't think you necessitate extra precautions," she said, crossing her own arms in an attempt to match his guarded posture.

She really hoped he noticed the implication that she did, however, find him barely tolerable to be around. 

When he didn't react, she fixed a scathing expression on her face. "And even if I did, we both know you'd be completely uninterested in me regardless of my attire."

He scoffed. "So sure, are you?" 

She certainly noticed his sarcasm.

Her eyes rolled automatically. "Like the pureblood prince would ever even glance at a someone like me with anything besides disgust."

“I see you still have all the right answers," he gritted. Then he shook his head in clear exasperation. "I don’t have time for this. So keep yourself confined to your royal territory and I'll remain in mine.”

“An excellent suggestion," she seethed back.

"Glad you agree. That is, if you're even capable. You've been two steps behind me ever since I showed up in the portkey office this morning." His brows drew together. "Are you...are you supposed to be watching me?"

"Excuse me—?"

"Didn't know the old hag was such a talented actress..."

"What are you on about now?"

Malfoy shoved back the pale hair that had fallen and blocked his line of sight. "I don't need to be handled, Granger. I have my own aims, sure, but I'll do whatever is asked of me here while I attend to them." An audible breath fell from his lips. "I don't know what's worse. The fact that I didn't expect you to believe the worst of what people say about me. Or that I was naive enough to believe the best of what they say about you."

An outraged noise formed in her throat. "I've done nothing—"

"You expect me to be convinced that you, of all people, let a regulated travel device fall from your grasp seconds before it was timed to leave? I can look past your disbelief in my reformation, but the insult to my intelligence is unforgivable."

She blinked at him, her mouth parted in bafflement over Malfoy's disjointed accusations. "I—" She raised her hands in front of her shoulders in surrender. "Do not want to deal with this conversation anymore."

He glared at her. "Nor do I."

"Fine."

"Good." 

"Arsehole," she muttered, snatching her jumper from the sofa and then practically bolting to her room. 

She narrowly prevented herself from slamming the door.

It was fine.

More than fine, actually.

She didn't want to be near Malfoy anyway so his arrangement perfectly aligned with her own needs.

If she had to interact with him daily, she'd likely end up casting an imperio on him just so she could force him to keep his mouth shut.

And then she'd be involuntarily removed from the study. 

It was better to just stay to her side of their shared quarters as they'd agreed.

Of course, they were bound to accidentally cross the lines at some point.

She fell face first onto her bed and groaned.

Reaching for the message book she'd placed on her pillow, she wrote a quick note to Ginny to distract herself.

As she flipped its spiral binding closed, she was interrupted by muted knocking. 

Highly doubtful Malfoy would answer their door for anyone, Hermione pulled on an oversized top and sullenly went out, already dreading whatever disruption to her peace she would have to deal with in the process.

On the simplistic veranda stood Zacharias Smith, though he towered over her now as opposed to being the same height like he had been in school.

"You really are here," he said, smiling brightly. "I didn't realize earlier. Guess I would have expected you'd be following behind Sprout with a thousand suggestions for the rest of us. How was your first day?"

"Productive," she said, smiling back even though she was mentally listing excuses to make him go away.

"Who'd you end up pairing with?" 

He shifted to see over her shoulder, but she pretended not to notice his wish to receive an invitation inside.

"Oh...no, I...went by myself."

His eyebrows raised. "Oh. Well you should join us tomorrow. Or I'll just stay with you instead. Macmillan won't mind. You really shouldn't be without someone to watch over you."

Keeping up her smile took monumental effort. "Oh...that's not..."

She trailed off when his face blanched. 

Zacharias stepped backwards until he reached the first one of the stairs. "So...that's all I wanted to ask. I'll meet up with you in the morning. You can choose where we go to work for the day.”

He hurried down the remaining steps and back onto the path leading to the rest of the cabins.

Guessing what had caused his rapid departure, Hermione pulled the door shut, warding and silencing it with more zeal than the spells technically required, before she sighed in relief and turned to find Malfoy studying her quizzically.

"Thanks," she said, finally able to relax once more. "He's always been a bit pushy. I was drawing a blank on how to get rid of him."

"Did you just ward yourself in with me?" Malfoy sounded appalled.

"I've been trying to tell you I don't think you're a bad person. You're frustrating, obviously. Shite at listening to anyone's opinion but your own. And unnecessarily defensive." No longer able to stand the incredulity etched onto his face, she turned away, quietly adding, "I've never believed you to be evil."

She returned to her room without waiting for a reply, throwing off the too-warm extra layer she’d added and falling into the bed, not even bothering to turn down the coverlet as she summoned her book to finish.

At least she wouldn't have to worry about any more distractions. 

Until the morning.

She'd have to set out early to avoid any unwelcome companions.

Too bad there was nothing she could do about her roommate.

Only one day in and she and Malfoy had been constantly either at each other's throats or leaving one another in stunned disarray.

Hermione didn't need to be able to read fire-omens to predict that they were going to have a memorable two weeks.

Chapter Text

Hermione had long since proven a willingness to give up even the most sacred parts of herself to achieve her goals. 

But there was one facet of her personality that had continuously resurrected itself no matter how many times she’d left it bloodied on a sacrificial altar.

She had to do everything on her terms. 

Which meant she had a severe reaction to being used by other people.

She absolutely despised it.

Far too much time in her childhood had been spent admiring those who'd treated her—and her friends—as nothing more than sentient game pieces, and she refused to ever let it happen again.

So Malfoy's accusation that Sprout—because who else could he have possibly meant—was using Hermione as some sort of supervisor over him in the woman's stead was grating on her already irritated nerves.

The thought had buried itself under her skin like a tiny thorn, just irksome enough that she found herself mentally prodding at it her whole morning in the forest. 

She had left the cabin before dawn, keeping the agreement to stay away from Malfoy while also successfully evading Zacharias Smith, the solitary stroll into the wood exactly what she'd needed.

Mirroring her first day, she had begun on the opposite border of her map grid, at the top of the incline leading to the centaurs' meadow and had then worked at tagging the trees on her way downward. She had nearly reached the valley when she decided to break for lunch, wanting to make sure she could meet up with Neville in time to help as she'd promised him.

As she waited outside the entrance to their dining facility, she couldn't keep herself from digging more insistently at the intrusion in her mind, and every second she spent wondering if Sprout would truly dare to do such a thing had reminded Hermione more of how much she fucking hated the idea of being manipulated once more.

Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to let it go until she uncovered the truth.

Neville finally emerged from the bend in the path, a giant tray piled high with the supplies for their lunch floating behind him. 

“Is everything alright?”

She fixed her expression to something less mutinous and held the door open, following after Neville into the room fitted with several round tables separated by a long bar-top in the center. 

“Just thinking through a minor problem,” she said, watching him as he levitated the tray to the bar and settled it there.

He nodded as if he’d thought as much. "Survived your first night, I see."

She laughed, setting aside her frustration for later. "Barely. You are aware of my temporary living companion, right?"

He shook his head. "Sprout arranged the lodging."

Well at least she wouldn’t have to direct any anger at him, too. "She stuck me with Malfoy."

Neville made a choking sound. "What...why? She knows the history there."

She shrugged. "She blamed it on us being late, but he seems to be under the impression that she did it because she doesn't trust him. Like maybe she thought I would be vengeful enough that I'd...you know, keep an eye on him or something."

Neville's brows came together in a way that almost made him appear angry. "I'll look into it."

“If she admits to it, tell her she can fuck off. Actually don’t. I’d like to see her face when I tell her myself.”

“I’d enjoy seeing it too,” he chuckled, the box he’d been searching for located at last.

They each chose a side of the room, casting cleaning charms over the tables and then setting them with cutlery.

"Oh, hold on," she said, realizing a much better option than having to avoid most of her living space just to keep from accidentally interacting with her roommate. “What if I stay with you? Surely you have your own place, right?"

"Ah, actually I'm staying at the castle."

"Oh," she said, smiling to hide her mild disappointment. "The centaurs allow you to do that?"

"It's a bit of a special circumstance. They wouldn't agree to you coming along or I would offer. I'm sorry."

"I’ll deal. At least he’s changed for the most part.”

He shot her an apologetic grin. "Believe me, I'd rather stay here, but my boyfriend isn't one for the outdoors. You remember Theo Nott?"

"Yes,” she answered, surprised.

"He's teaching charms now. He'll be stopping by in a few days for my birthday so you'll be able to get reacquainted."

“Oh, that’s really great. I hadn’t even heard you were with anyone.”

“It’s new so not exactly public knowledge. And honestly we're prone to being overly cautious because of our pasts. But we’ve bonded over our shared vision for the school, and he’s done so much to keep me stable this past year, even before we were officially together.”

“I’m happy for you.” She smiled, genuinely meaning it. If anyone deserved some goodness in life, it was Neville.

“Even if it means you’re stuck with Malfoy?”

She shot him an angry look but couldn't keep her lips from twitching upwards. “I guess. He at least promised to leave me alone.”

He laughed while sorting through the food he'd brought in to check the charms keeping it fresh. 

After a moment of quiet, Neville looked over to her again. “You know, Theo told me a bit about Malfoy’s past."

"You weren't ready to hear it after Harry and I went to his trial. Guess you've changed too though. I don't think you'd have willingly dated a Slytherin back then either."

"I have changed," he said, something almost imperceptibly humorous in the cadence of his speech. "Having someone who understands has been healing. He helped me let go of a lot of pain and resentment I still felt for the wrong people. You know, if he hadn't explained how much all of them were taken advantage of for so long, there’s no way I would have agreed to let Malfoy take Theo's place here.”

Her mouth parted in surprise. “You let…You mean Sprout didn’t invite him?”

He made an annoyed sound. “She tried to tell me he wasn't allowed to stay. Even though he's more than qualified. Theo and I had to get the centaurs involved.”

Huh. That was...not what she expected.

Before she could interrogate him further, Neville began moving the stacks of covered dishes around. 

"We should probably get started," he said. "Everyone will be coming in soon."

Nodding her agreement, Hermione also turned to help him while still trying to parse through all the new information.

They began unpacking and arranging the magically warmed dishes onto the long table, Hermione's wand cooperating well enough she managed to complete the task without issue save for a singular roll toppling from its basket and falling onto the floor.

Despite the variety of options, she found herself not feeling very hungry.

A loud round of voices came from the entryway, and Hermione glanced over to see a group of wizards and one witch come in for their meal. 

"Hermione," one of them called, "I guess Smith really was telling the truth about you being here." 

She barely recognized Ernie Macmillan. 

"Come join us," he said, as if it were normal for him to spend time with her.

She levitated two large pitchers and gave an apologetic half-smile. "I need to finish with these. We're almost all done setting up."

She focused on filling the glasses at the end of the bar.

One of the spouted containers tipped dangerously as more people filtered in, but she righted it before it spilled. 

Hermione really needed to get out of the crowded space. She could already feel the strange unraveling sensation within her magic that had never led to anything good. 

She finished pouring the last of the glasses just as she watched Zacharias Smith and Sprout come in, close together and deep in conversation. 

It was obviously all her magic could handle. 

As she swished her wand to lower the nearly empty container, every dish on the bar-top began to shake, an ominous rattle drawing the attention of everyone there. 

Her first attempt to fix it did nothing. 

Growing more desperate—and more embarrassed—she tried harder, but she only made it worse, the buffet spread of what was meant to be their lunch lifting several centimeters into the air, still shaking, possibly on the verge of raining down onto the wooden floor planks. 

No one, not even Neville, seemed sure of what to do. 

Just as Hermione was ready to admit defeat and ask for assistance, the door opened again, and she looked towards it.

Malfoy stood in the frame, his gaze landing on Hermione first, then on the vibrating plates, then back to her again. 

She waved her wand with careful precision and finally managed to set everything right.

Well, that's odd.

She muttered a quick apology to no one in particular and then stowed her wand, serving herself only items she could reach from where she stood and swiping a glass as she rushed to a table in the far corner, sitting with her back to her colleagues. 

"If I sit with you, are you going to flip my plate onto my head?" Neville placed his food beside hers and sat before waiting for an answer. 

She huffed a laugh. "I don't know what's wrong with me. But don't worry. I'm not even touching my wand until I'm back in the woods far away from any witnesses."

"Have you seen a healer? That almost reminded me of accidental magic, like when we're kids...or going through puberty. I see it often—"

"I think I'm just tired, to be honest. Being here is helping...another few days and I should be all cured." 

"You'll let me know if it happens again?"

"Sure," she said, taking a too-large bite. 

Her food acted as an excellent excuse to end the conversation.

After she finished most of her lunch, Hermione braved a glance over her shoulder to make sure the chaos she'd caused had died down and thankfully it seemed as though it had. Ernie Macmillan and his group from before were talking animatedly around one table. Zacharias had yet to go through the buffet line and was still speaking with their former professor. She wasn't even sure they had seen her accident. And Malfoy—

She spun back forward.

Because he was watching her from his seat on the opposite side of the table next to hers, their eyes meeting for a fraction of a second before she'd realized she had unconsciously sought him out.

Her curiosity demanded it. She would have to test her theory, but—

"Where were you this morning, Hermione?" Zacharias situated himself in the seat next to hers. "I waited, but you never showed."

At least he didn't seem put out by her avoidance.

"I..." She had trouble thinking of a plausible excuse, still recovering from before.

She glanced at Neville who was watching with an amused glint in his eyes. 

No help at all, that one. 

She smiled but was sure it didn't appear as such. "I don't want to come between you and Ernie since you've already got a system, I'm sure."

"Of course not." Zacharias waved his fork. "He agreed he didn't mind. Better for him to be alone in the forest than you."

She somehow highly doubted the truth to either of his statements.

And if he didn't feel guilty over employing a bit of dishonesty, well then neither would she. "Actually, I ended up finding someone to go with me, too. So no need to worry for my safety anymore."

His smile faltered. “Oh. Yeah, alright. We could always swap another day. Whose partner are you?”

A dark shadow drifted over her at her back, and she knew exactly who it belonged to, his closeness a confirmation of what she was beginning to realize was undeniable as the strain on her magic loosened.

“She’s mine.”

Malfoy's tone held no room for dissent. 

She shifted in her seat while Neville's eyebrows raised almost comically.

Smith's shocked voice made her look back towards him. “You are?”

Instead of keeping her eyes on the man who awaited her answer, she tipped her head to find Malfoy asking his own silent question.

She swallowed heavily, unable to look away. “Yes.”

"Well tomorrow maybe—"

“Sorry to disappoint." Malfoy cut Zacharias off, sounding anything except apologetic. "But I don’t have any interest in an exchange.” 

Her chair drifted from the table without warning, Malfoy's tone gentle but expectant. "Granger."

She rose and rushed to the exit with Malfoy close behind her, no doubt drawing the notice of everyone there for the second time in one half-hour period. 

Once she and Malfoy were safely outside, she breathed a heavy sigh of relief, her muscles easing into a semblance of normalcy as they made it down to the central pathway. 

Malfoy paused in the middle of it, his calculating gaze causing a new kind of anxiety to wash over her as she stopped along beside him.

“You didn’t have to do that," she said, aiming to add some levity. "But thanks. Seems I owe you another favor.”

He flashed an arrogant smile that twisted her insides even further. "No need. I intend to make the one count." Amusement growing, he went on. "Besides, someone had to intervene. You weren't doing anything to stop his advances yourself."

She wrapped her arms around her middle. "It's not my fault he can't comprehend plain language."

Malfoy started moving in the opposite direction of their research sites, but she couldn't make her legs cooperate yet.

He turned back to her. "Enjoy your peace, Granger. Try not to accost any helpless plants or animals like you did those poor dishes." 

She growled a curse at him.

Still wearing his cocky smile, he walked farther away from her, calling out as he went, "Don't think this changes anything about our agreement."

"As if I'd want it to," she muttered, starting down the path towards the section of forest she'd been working on. 

It took the entire hike before she was able to calm herself down again. 

Back at her chosen location, she started where she'd left off, completing the search of the remaining trees along the incline in only a couple of hours. 

She took a short break on her favorite rock, and then she stood to begin on the valley. 

Her movement must have disturbed the little cave-dwelling creatures she'd seen before because they emerged in a burst of red streaks and flying sparks. 

Most of them disappeared into the moss and leaves, but when Hermione took a step to resume her task, she realized her path was blocked by a tiny bright red salamander.

She lowered herself for a closer look, surprised when the cute amphibian didn't run away from her like its family had. "Well, hello there. Aren't you a curious one. Would you like to be my partner for today?"

It scurried back into its cave.

Laughing, she stood again. "Guess not."

But before she could be on her way, it crawled from the orange-glowing hole in the rocks once more, a burning stick as long as its body held between its jaws. 

It dropped the stick right beside her foot, nudging it with its snout and leaving an even larger scorch mark on the side of her shoe than it had caused before.

It gave her an idea.

"What a lovely gift. Thank you, Scorch. Is that name acceptable to you?" 

Well she received no argument. 

She waved a protection spell over the stick to keep the smolder from weakening and then placed it into one of the fireproof jars she kept for her bluebell flames. "There." She showed her new friend the results. "Now it won't burn out."

She couldn't be sure, of course, but Scorch certainly seemed pleased.

Stowing the jar in her bag, she finally resumed her slow walk along the valley, following the line of the incline to the end of her grid where she then turned to do the same in the opposite direction. 

Scorch followed behind her every step until she reached the foot of the hill on the valley's other side, his head tilting adorably every time she stopped to look over damages and whenever she produced the colorful bands.

As she packed her things to leave, her enchanted map began pulsing with light, an indication that a mandatory meeting had been planned to conclude their study for the day.

Even though it could mean someone had made an important discovery, Hermione still dreaded being back under the scrutiny of her peers.

Not to mention the accidental drain to her magic they all induced.

Scorch seemed to pick up on her displeasure and was turning anxious circles in a small bundle of leaves.

She bent down again. "I have to go, but you can walk with me again tomorrow. I'll come by to get you, alright?"

Obviously, she received no reply, but the little red creature didn't follow her when she started up the hill and back towards the camp so she thought maybe they'd reached an understanding.

One of the last to arrive back at the same building she'd made such a spectacle of herself in earlier, Hermione was taken aback by the weight of the others’ presence as soon as she entered, the slow unraveling of her power source becoming an uncomfortable tug instead. 

It was almost painful.

So when Malfoy followed in not long after her, bringing with him the odd protection she'd found him to give, she moved slightly closer to him on instinct, the two of them taking up post along the back wall, away from the majority of the members of their research group.

At least three people turned in clear search of her attention before their eyes fell to Malfoy and they rapidly faced forward again.

She didn't see Sprout anywhere, but Neville quieted the room as he moved to speak at the front of the small audience.

"Thank you all for the continued work you've done," Neville said. "I called you here to deliver an invitation for our group to join the centaur herd this Saturday night. We've been asked to take part in their most spiritual stargazing event of the year."

Murmurs of excitement rippled through the small crowd as Neville gave more details, including telling everyone what an honor it was to be allowed to attend such an important ritual. 

Hermione barely kept herself from complaining aloud, completely uninterested in being subjected to more nonsensical knowledge of the future. She wondered if she could make an excuse to stay in that night. 

By the time they were all released to wash up before supper, she was ready to bolt for the exit.

But before she was able to, Malfoy stepped between the wall and nearby table, his back to her, effectively blocking her way.

She could go around the other side, but it would mean meeting up with the line of others, which she suspected he understood was something she didn't want to do.

She seethed at his back as everyone else filed through the door, all of them so intent on ignoring Malfoy that they didn't take note of her at all. 

Even Neville was too preoccupied with something else to be any assistance.

Once they were alone, Malfoy shifted so that his back was along the wall again, leaning against it with false casualness as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Hermione fought to hang onto her frustration, unsure of where the situation was headed.

“Well?” She asked leaning against the table behind her. “You clearly want something. What is it?”

After what felt like ages, Malfoy finally spoke. “If you’re going to use someone, Granger, at least give them the courtesy of explaining why." 

His words were light, conversational, but she still detected the undertone of something darker.

"I..." She paused, confused. That wasn't what she had expected, and she didn't know how to answer him.

He growled a curse almost too low for her to hear. "What's wrong with you?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, too quickly to hide her defensiveness.

His knowing look cut straight through her. "I always had a shameful habit of berating you for your inelegance, but even then, it was only for sport. Since when are you such a danger to yourself?"

"I'm not," she insisted.

His scoff echoed harshly. "Yeah? Did you hurt your knee before or after your shoulder?"

"After,” she replied without thinking. “How did you even—"

"And the bag?" He asked, not allowing her to finish.

"Before," she grumbled.

He pushed off from the wall to stand at his full height, closing the already too-small space between them a little more. "The scrapes on your hand are at least two weeks old. You say you lost hold of your portkey. Then there was that interesting display at lunch. And are those burn marks on your shoes?” With each detail, he seemed to grow more disturbed. “I thought at first someone could be targeting you, but it’s all your own doing."

Hermione sighed. 

There was really no reason to try to deny it. 

"I’ve had terrible luck for months. It somehow gets worse around other people."

Malfoy looked surprised she'd admitted to anything being wrong. "What is it?"

"I don't know. Don’t you think I’d have done something to fix it already if I did?” She scrubbed at her face and regained her composure. “Is it possible to mistakenly allow your magic to be syphoned away? That's what it feels like. It's why...why I tried to get out of being your roommate. It wasn't personal. Well not completely," she amended. “You aren’t exactly easy to get along with.”

His guarded expression slipped for a second before he fixed it back in place. "So staying close to me for the announcement, that was you deciding to let me drain your magical energy to avoid the larger loss caused by a group?”

"I would choose that," she said, avoiding his intense gaze.

"But?"

She inhaled raggedly, unsure if she should tell him what she'd learned or not. "But well...you don't seem to take…so much as…give."

She dropped her eyes to the floor.

"So we're back to you using me," he said flatly. “At least now I know why."

She felt like someone had stunned her directly between her rib cage.

Oh god, is that what she'd been doing to him the entire time?

"I…I didn’t mean to.” Still reeling from the realization herself, she wasn't sure she'd said it loud enough for him to hear.

"Doesn't matter. It’s nothing I'm unfamiliar with.”

Still studying the grain patterns in the flooring, Hermione heard the door open and then close as he left her alone.

Only, this time, the solitude didn't bring along an offering of peacefulness.

Because it did matter.

Especially to her.

Because the last thing she wanted to do was to use anyone. 

She refused to allow herself to become the thing she hated most.

Chapter Text

For the next two days, Hermione spent her time following a routine she refused to deviate from. 

She'd wake before dawn, dress, walk to the valley and wait outside the fire-dwelling salamander cave until her new friend emerged. Then she would spend the rest of the day marking unhealthy trees while Scorch distracted her every so often by doing something insanely cute. 

Once it was time for everyone else to go in for their evening meal, Hermione would sneak back to the cabin, wash, eat a few things she'd packed in her bag, check for messages from Ginny, and then she'd fall asleep without even reading a single page of a book.

She hadn’t so much as spoken one word to anyone human for the entire time.

Especially not Malfoy.

She even avoided the paths inside their camp, circumventing them by traveling through the dense wood and approaching her temporary residence from behind. 

It was how she'd stumbled upon the natural pool fed by a modest waterfall a short distance from their cabin. 

She'd made a mental note to ask the centaurs if she could possibly use it for a swim.

Hermione had begun to believe she'd achieved the peaceful holiday she'd wished for at last. 

But when she quietly shut the door to her room the morning of the third day only to turn and find Malfoy leaning casually against the wall not far from her, illuminated by the glow of her wand, she knew that would no longer be the case.

Malfoy lit the space with a nonverbal spell, his deep voice even rougher so early in the morning. "You're avoiding me."

She stared at him for several moments, annoyed at his again barely covered upper half even more than she was by his stupid statement.

"Yes," she enunciated slowly. "As per your request."

To her surprise, he didn't use her snark as an excuse to retaliate.

"Why?" The genuine tone in his voice smoothed her raised hackles back to normal. 

She sighed. "Despite what you believe, I have zero interest in spying on you. And if anyone had asked me to, I would have said no."

Malfoy kneaded the top of his shoulder with his hand, and she idly wondered if the action was from physical discomfort or because of what she'd said. "I guess I could have listened to your side before assuming the worst of you."

She waited for him to continue, rolling her eyes at her own ignorance when of course he didn't. "You're shite at apologies if that's all you have to say."

He gave a flippant shrug. "Something else I never learned."

"Maybe it's time to broaden your education," she grumbled.

Beginning to feel awkward just standing there and no longer needing to leave the cabin so early because of Malfoy's ambush, Hermione propped herself on the arm of the sofa, facing him, trying to keep her eyes from drifting back to the thick muscles connecting his shoulder and neck. 

She indulged in a short but vivid daydream of sending Ginny a howler.

Malfoy interrupted the mental version of her yelling. "You still haven't answered me."

She snapped her eyes back to his face.

Fuck.

Thankfully, he was too preoccupied to notice her runaway thoughts, flexing his forearm and inspecting the scarred skin where his dark mark had once been. "Why would you stay away from someone who makes it easier to keep your magic stable?"

She shrugged, attempting to appear calm when she felt anything but that. "Because it isn't your problem to solve."

He finally set his full attention on her again. "So."

"So I don't want to use you," she said quietly.

"Why not?" He said the words as if her reasoning was too foreign for him to conceptualize.

Tired of dancing around the sensitive topic, Hermione stood back to her normal height again, forcing her voice to sound sure and steady. "Because you don't deserve it, Malfoy. No one does." And because she didn't want to leave any chance for doubt, she allowed the vehemence of her belief to be made known completely. "I swear it, I'll never use you for my own gain with no concern for you or your feelings. I will not become like them. I refuse."

She wasn’t prepared for the anger he directed towards her. "Save your pity for someone who wants it. What my elders did to me is no reason for one of your self-righteous campaigns."

"No," she said harshly. "But what mine did to me is."

His face went slack as if in shock. And by some miracle, it seemed like he'd finally worked through her motivations, going so far as to appear slightly chastened that he hadn't considered her side of their past trauma.

Silence went on long enough that Hermione almost decided to listen to her body's urge to flee, to go about her routine and begin avoiding him more carefully.

Before she could move, Malfoy spoke again. "What would you say to a peace treaty between us, Granger?"

Something shifted in the way he looked at her, his cautious skepticism cracked to reveal a glimpse of wary acceptance.

She considered him for a moment, narrowing her eyes. "Depends. Will you still be an arse?"

His amused smirk caught her off guard. "I'm willing to form an alliance, not undergo an obliviation."

She had to swallow back the sudden bitterness at the unexpected reminder of that particular spell.

"What?" He asked.

"Nothing." She glared at him until he wiped the curiosity from his face. "What does an alliance with you look like?"

"I need your help." Judging by his grimace, the admission accompanied a barely tolerable invisible wound.

At least it wasn't her needing something from him for a change. 

She crossed her arms over her middle. "With?"

"Sprout learned I've been spending my days on my own," he sneered. "She asked Smith to pair with me, but he told her you and I were working together. He's been asked to assist us periodically. Seems she decided to make him into her guard dog since you wouldn't come to heel."

The reality of what he was asking overshadowed the anger she felt for their former professor, and Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. "So you need to actually work with me all day?"

"You'd benefit as well,” he said easily. “Let me come with you when you’re in the forest, and I'll keep the others away from you at meetings and meal times."

"Well...I already have a lovely partner." She fought a smile at his sudden flash of disappointment. "But I suppose having someone else along with opposable thumbs could be advantageous."

Malfoy tried to hide his relief behind a scowl, but she saw right through it.

She adjusted her bag and started for the exit, surprised when he followed instead of claiming the entire thing had been some elaborate prank. 

Once they reached the veranda, she paused to turn a serious expression on him. "I'm choosing where we conduct our research though."

Malfoy waved a hand towards the path. "Fine by me. Lead the way, princess."

She growled under her breath as she took the stairs. "Call me that again, and I'll sell you out to Zacharias."

So close she could feel the heat from where his arm nearly brushed against hers as they walked, he smirked down at her. "Looking to spend more time with Macmillan, are you?”

She glared up at him. "How long do you think it would take for aurors to find us here?"

A thoughtful expression crossed his face. "A few hours probably. Why do you ask?"

"I'm calculating the risks versus rewards ratio of imperiusing you."

He looked down with mock outrage. "Casting an unforgivable on me with my own magic giving you extra strength to do it. That's cold-blooded, Granger. If it weren't for all the purity nonsense upheld by our school, I think we would have been housemates long before now."

She didn't quite manage to keep her mouth from curving upwards. "You'll do well to keep that in mind."

The sound of his deep and quiet laugh surprised her as they carried on down the trail.

Despite his much longer stride, Malfoy set a slower pace through the wood than she'd been keeping on her own, scanning their surroundings with even more care than she had as well, his attention solely on his task.

They made it all the way to the hill she had first began on when Malfoy finally spoke again. "My magic has been behaving erratically, too," he said, his voice conversational. "It’s stronger, harder to control."

"That's...odd."

Odd that it was happening and that he was confiding in her.

"Yes. It's better here than before. I thought it could have been the forest, but I'm beginning to think maybe it's because of you."

Her feet stuttered. "Me?"

"Like some sort of balancing effect. Because I have too much and you have too little."

She thought it over.

"Magic does require an equilibrium of sorts. I'll have to see what I can find to read on the topic."

He gave no response so she dropped the sudden flow of ideas that were right on the tip of her tongue. 

It wasn't like they'd compare notes anyway seeing as how they'd be back to their normal lives by the time they were able to collect any information on it.

Normal life where she absolutely did not spend time with Malfoy. Ever.

Once they reached the valley Hermione stopped by every morning, she could see a blur of red streaking back and forth across the lush green moss outside the glowing cave. 

She hurried to soothe the poor thing's distress. "I'm sorry I'm late, but I brought you another friend."

She cast a charm over herself to protect against the natural defensive layer of poison, then lowered her hand so Scorch could climb into her palm. 

"This is Scorch." She presented her occupied hand to Malfoy. "My first and favorite partner."

"How did you..." Malfoy's parted mouth flattened into a thin line. "Never mind, I forgot who I'm dealing with."

"They're quite smart and protective." She rubbed gently underneath Scorch's chin as she smiled. “It isn't common knowledge, but fire-dwelling salamanders are actually a species of small dragons.”

“Yes, I know.”

She looked back up. "You do?"

Malfoy was watching her intently, but then a familiar arrogant expression settled onto his face. “It’s unusual for them to interact with humans. Maybe it thinks you’re one of them." He bent to look more closely at Scorch before tilting his chin up to meet her face. "Makes sense, you’re about the proper size.”

He stood to his full height again. Probably to emphasize his joke as he towered over her.

She gave him a bland look. “You’re such an arse.”

Scorch scampered down the front of her leg to reach the ground, between Malfoy and her, like a tiny guardian.

She laughed at the precious behavior. "I'm only teasing. It is true, but he's not so terrible I need defending from him."

"Are we going to check the trees or not?" Malfoy asked. "It looks as if you've already finished this section."

"I have. We're going a bit farther south." She pointed to the grid on her map. "I've just started here."

Malfoy began in the direction she'd indicated, his slow pace transformed into one more fitting for someone so tall. 

When she didn't follow immediately, he stopped, calling over his shoulder towards where she still stood. “Come on, little dragon.”

She rushed to keep up, a tiny red blur weaving between her feet. “Don’t treat Scorch like a pet.”

His low laugh almost made her stumble. “I was talking to you.”

It took her longer than she wanted to admit to find her voice again. "You know, I haven't ruled out that unforgivable yet."

Malfoy scoffed, but he was still clearly amused. "As if you'd compromise your pristine virtues over someone like me."

A frustrated noise left her throat. "So sure, are you?"

His amusement grew into a full smile.

She wanted to smack it from his face. "Just...go start on that side and I'll start over here. We'll meet in the middle.”

Without complaint, Malfoy disappeared into the heavily wooded area in the direction she’d pointed out, and she was left alone to begin on her side. She felt the slightest dip in her power as they separated, but it was nothing she couldn’t manage. 

For the next few hours, she fell back into her normal routine with Scorch.

Everything was going as well as possible until Hermione stopped for a drink and couldn't retrieve her water from her bag again. 

Unsurprisingly, Zacharias emerged moments later, flashing a smile at her that dissolved as soon as he took in their immediate area, obviously looking for Malfoy and unhappy about not finding him.

Did he expected them to stay within sight of one another?

"Malfoy leave you behind already?"

"Wha—? Wait," she said, realizing what he was implying. "You don't usually split up once you reach your intended grid space?"

"It's the Forbidden Forest." He said it as if it should be explanation enough.

Unbelievable.

How were they ever going to have time to do anything to actually help the forest in such a short time frame if none of them could be alone for a single second?

She opened her mouth to say as much but as she did, Scorch abandoned the territorial post between her and Zacharias, clambering up her body and hiding in the mass of curls tied back at her neck.

Gripping her wand tighter, she scanned all around them.

She turned to check behind just as something big stepped from behind one of the more mature trees.

The white wolf as tall as she was stood not far off, and more appeared soon after, at least six or seven of them.

Her grip on her wand relaxed. 

"Get back!"

Hermione whipped around to see Zacharias with his own wand raised towards the pack members.

"Don't threaten them," she yelled. "They're not trying to hurt us."

"Know that for certain?"

One wolf growled from behind her in challenge. 

Well fuck.

She kept her eyes locked on the still raised wand. "They're only being aggressive because you are. Put it down so we can try to find out what they want."

"I'm not leaving us defenseless."

Letting out her own growl of frustration, she aimed her wand at him, attempting to disarm him before he got himself hurt, but of course her magic chose that moment to revert to its state of weakened ineptitude. 

The wolves began to move closer, stalking forward until they bypassed her and had formed a snarling half-circle around a now shaking Zacharias Smith. 

Her second try at confiscating his wand also failed. 

He stumbled back and, lucky for him, the large animals chose not to advance, all but one of them no longer even keeping its defensive posture.

"See, they don't want to attack you."

He backed away several more steps, and the wolves chose again to remain where they were. 

She almost sighed in relief, but without warning, Zacharias sent a stunner at the center wolf. 

Hermione screamed at him, but as soon as the largest one fell, the rest of the pack mates had already leapt into a counterattack. 

They converged on the terrified wizard, a blur of white fur and sharp teeth she had  no hope of stopping. 

But just before any of them got close enough to catch him in their powerful jaws, all five of the remaining wolves froze, then they fell gently towards the ground into harmless heaps of fluff.

"What the fuck did you do?"

She turned to her side to see a furious Malfoy advancing on their fellow colleague, his wand raised to dueling position.

But his eyes were trained on her, roving over her body as if he were checking for injuries. 

She supposed maybe he was.  

Zacharias cowered away from Malfoy just as he had the wolves, his voice laced with fear. "They surrounded us. If you hadn't left..."

He trailed off at the sound of quick approaching hoof-falls.

A centaur that matched the color of the ones she'd seen Malfoy speak to before came into view.

"Thank you for finding the last of the pack. We decided to relocate them in light of our recent omens, but they've been single minded in their mission to protect the weakest of the forest."

Malfoy lowered his wand in favor of addressing their host. "Unfortunately, their message was interrupted."

The centaur waved a downturned palm towards the ground where they all stood and produced a rudimentary version of the spell they'd been shown the first day. Instead of giving them the ability to see beneath the soil, it created a visual representation of the Root Sprite colony with clusters of glowing lights among the moss and leaves. 

There were so few it made her stomach turn. 

Malfoy nodded to the seemingly sleeping wolves. "The one in the middle should be checked for injury. I took care of the rest."

The centaur stared at him and seemed to convey silent information. "Your assistance would aid us both in finding what we seek."

She watched as Malfoy suddenly tensed, his gaze landing on her, then on Zacharias, then back on her.

Oh, no. He'd better not leave...

She glared daggers at him, demanding he not force her to have to walk back to the camp with the idiot who had caused the whole disaster. 

Without even giving her an explanation, Malfoy levitated the wolves and followed behind the pale centaur. 

She seethed at his back as she watched him go.

But after only a few paces, he paused, wolves still suspended in midair beside him, and he shot one last stunning spell from his wand, causing Zacharias to fall backwards onto the forest floor without even having time to react. 

Malfoy smirked at her as he started on his way again.

Once they were essentially alone, Scorch finally braved untangling from her curls, crawling to perch on her shoulder.

She looked down to see a little tilted head. "I agree, Scorch. I don't quite know what to think of him either."

Chapter Text

Obviously, Malfoy's favorite way to start the morning was to greet her with an entirely unnecessary declaration.

Because she’d found him right outside her door again the next day, propped against the wall, his head tipped forward just enough for white blond strands of hair to almost obscure his eyes. 

Frustrated, cagey, and still harboring an obnoxious distaste for sleeves, he fixed her in an accusing glare. "I didn't intend for you to transport Smith back all by yourself."

"I know," she said brightly, just to nettle him. "But with my magic bolstered by yours, it was easy enough to levitate him. I didn't see why I shouldn't."

"No?" He gritted. "There's not a single reason you could have imagined? Sprout is hunting for the grounds to dismiss me. As soon as she hears I attacked another member of our team, she'll have what she needs."

She did her best to imitate one of his smirks. "Why would he tell her something that didn't happen?"

He seemed to be disturbed by her mimicking skills. "What did you do?"

She purposefully looked up at him through her eyelashes, enjoying his distress a little too much probably, but it was far too early for her to have a better attitude. "What do you mean?"

"Granger, I swear—"

She rolled her eyes. "He won't say anything, alright." And because Malfoy insisted on being dramatic, she couldn't resist one last performance herself. "As I recall, I regrettably had to stun him for his own safety."

"I see," he said, his voice cold. "And so you took it upon yourself to ob—"

He stopped abruptly. 

Then he began again, his bitterness practically tangible. "And what do you want in return for protecting me?"

She dropped her faux innocence in favor of very real horror. "Nothing."

He didn't even attempt to hide his skepticism.

She knew he likely hated the way her eyebrows had pinched together in concern, but there was nothing to be done about it. "Haven't you ever had a single social encounter that wasn't transactional?"

Standing tall, he fixed her with a bland expression. "Have you forgotten who you're speaking to? My very existence was arranged by legal contract. And every connection after has been either bought or paid for." 

"Malfoy..."

He shrugged one bare shoulder, pulling himself back into the arrogant and unbothered version of him she'd come to expect. "You were right, you know. I did bribe my way into being allowed here. So you'll understand if I don't believe you. I know it's not personal, just a side effect of being who I am." He started for the door. "Doesn't matter what I want, it always ends the same for me."

He'd made it ten paces up the path before Hermione was able to catch up to him. 

They walked in silence, and she couldn't help but replay their conversation in her head. The prior week she never would have believed it possible, but she found herself feeling something. 

Not pity. God he would hate it if it were that. But it also wasn't too far off from it.

Because if what he said were true, then Malfoy's life had to be...unbearably lonely.

She would know.

He wasn't the only one who had to be wary of people's motivations, especially with how often good deeds for her came with strings attached of wanting to get closer to Harry. 

She'd barely been able to expand her inner circle of friends beyond those she'd had since school.

Even Malfoy himself held her in constant suspense over a favor she owed him. 

Which was why she'd been so eager to tip the balance of power back to her side a bit by dealing with the Zacharias situation for him. 

She worried she'd upturned their entire scale in the process.

To her shock, Malfoy didn't attempt to use their walk into the forest to regain control, leading them straight to the small cave to pick up Scorch for the day without her having to remind him. 

Then he followed to their chosen square of land without complaint.

"It shouldn't take us long to finish what we started yesterday," she said softly, no longer seeking entertainment by riling him. "We can take a break for lunch and then move farther south again."

His rigid reply kept her from turning away. "We aren't separating."

She must have misheard. "What?"

"Not after that disaster with the wolves."

Her eyes snapped to his, anger burning up her spine. "I don't need a protector."

Malfoy shrugged. "I agree. It's me I'm worried about."

“Right," she scoffed. "Because you’re oh so vulnerable with your excess power and well..." She waved her hand at his general person. "That."

She ignored the glint of amusement in his silver eyes, some of the iciness in them thawing.

"And if something happens to you while we're here, who do you think will be the first one they suspect?"

An indelicate noise left her throat. "Definitely you."

Malfoy gave a short laugh, and she didn't want to admit how much the sound of it relieved her of the anxiety from their earlier conversation. "You didn't even pretend to soften that blow."

She couldn't help laughing a little as well. "Don't know why you would expect me to."

Maybe he did have a point though. 

And if his motivation for staying together was for his protection instead of hers, well, she couldn't rationally deny him.

She sighed. "Fine. Stay. But keep up because I'm not wasting precious time like everyone else here seems determined to do."

"Whatever you say, little dragon."

That earned him several choice derogatory terms, but afterwards, they went about their task professionally. 

They decided to remain close enough together that he could search to one side of their path while she took care of the other, ensuring they wouldn't waste time attempting to mark the same area at once. As she'd pointed out before, it didn't take them long before they were moving into their new location on the map that thankfully had transformed to mostly grey-green rather than its original color. 

Maybe they would make some progress in their field study after all. 

They'd finished about half of their new square of land when she caught Malfoy lagging behind, picking a sparse bunch of asphodel when he thought she couldn't see and quickly shrinking the white flowers into a container from his pocket. 

She was still weighing the idea of confronting him about it when she spotted something in the moss not far from them. 

The coiled creatures took precedence.

“Oh—Malfoy, look." She pointed.

He met her excitement with a mild disgust. "Yes, thanks, Granger. Snakes. I certainly didn't get enough of those when Voldemort and his monster of a pet moved into my sadistic aunt's estate."

"Were you required there often?" She asked, getting closer. "And these are slow worms, not snakes. It's a mundane species of legless lizard.”

“Looks like snakes to me. And you already know the answer to that question. You and Potter had excellent seats for the spectacle that was my trial.”

“Well they aren't.” She left it at that, ignoring the confusion on Malfoy's face when she didn't react to his taunt. 

She watched him turn back to the tangled reptiles and then did the same.

“Should we break them up?”

An outraged noise left her before she realized he'd probably only said it to offend her. But she had to be sure he actually wouldn't. “Don’t bother them. They’re mating. How would you like to be pulled apart during the act?”

It took him longer to answer than she anticipated, but humor lightened his words. “I don’t expect I’d like it at all.”

“Exactly," she said, giving a firm nod. "Besides, we shouldn’t interfere, they’re a protected species. It's rare to get the chance to see them.”

"I assumed as much with your reaction. At least I hoped it was the cause. But I still think we'd be doing her a favor. Seems like she settled for this one. He’s got her whole head in his mouth.”

He wasn't wrong. But still. She couldn't help but feel some defensiveness on their behalf. “They usually go for the neck with their mating bites. He’s just got a bit off target. It’s completely harmless.”

“Fuck, Granger, I hope you have higher standards with your own sex life. Being a bit off target with his mouth could ruin the whole experience for you.”

She jerked her head towards him again to find the smug arsehole watching her, as if waiting to see how she'd react. “You can’t just talk about my...intimate activities.”

He didn't show the slightest hint of contrition. “You brought mine up first.”

“I—" Fuck. "That was hypothetical.”

Malfoy's thin smile grew into a devious show of teeth. “Are you admitting what I said wasn’t?”

The low growl she made caused Scorch to abandon the perch on her shoulder in favor of assuming a defensive stance between them.

Malfoy crouched down, addressing their amphibious counterpart. "Fine. I'm taking a vow of silence. But only for you." 

Hermione's mouth fell open when he reached forward and softly scratched Scorch's chin. 

And the little traitor let him.

"Can we please get this done so I can have time to properly brace myself for the ceremony later?"

Preferably by taking a long nap. Aided by dreamless sleep potion. 

Malfoy pantomimed being unable to speak.

And that's how they spent the rest of their day, in peaceful quiet, with her murmuring spells now and then while Malfoy flaunted his ability to cast soundlessly. 

He didn't even break his promise to remain silent when they hiked back to their cabin together, closing himself off in his side of their living space without so much as a glance in her direction.

Hermione fell straight into bed after washing, not even bothering to use a potion to help her fall asleep.

She knew she wouldn't need it.

The centaur's meadow was different at night, and that combined with the nature of the ceremonial event left Hermione itching with wild energy.

Were she not held steady by the familiar feeling of Malfoy's excess power as he stood several paces away, she would have been worried about another outburst of accidental magic.

The alphas stood in a semi-circle before them, each ready to give their own prophecy from their hour-long stargazing ritual while Maia and the other elders watched with eager hopefulness.

The first, with a black coat and tail and skin as dark as Maia's, stepped forward. He spoke with an air of confidence. “The cat’s eye nebula shines brightly curled beneath the stars of the great dragon.”

And that was the extent of his imparted wisdom.

A few of Hermione's fellow peers looked around, unsure if they should respond or not. Neville tapped a finger to his lips in answer, and they all watched as another centaur replaced the first.

“Change is as inevitable as it is necessary."

"Indeed," Maia said, and Hermione wondered if only she were allowed to speak besides the alphas. She waved a hand for her herd members to continue.

"Mars retreats, but the destruction of its path will take time to heal. Saturn alone cannot bring the change we need."

Several of the spectating centaurs stamped their hooves anxiously.

The next centaur to approach lacked the pride in making their first celestial fortune, speaking the words almost grudgingly. "The smallest planet has completed its task of bringing a new order. Now is a time of rebirth."

He backed away quickly.

A bay bodied woman eagerly took his place. "But time is not kind to all. You are losing your battle against it."

"Aite," Maia bit out, "not everything is to be foretold."

Somewhat chastened, the woman bowed her head and returned to her position, but she didn't appear to have let the reprimand dampen her enthusiasm.

Malfoy must not have appreciated the words though because he stalked away without explanation to anyone, disappearing into the tree line above the valley while Sprout and her growing collection of lackeys glared their disapproval.

Hermione watched as the last centaur slowly stepped before them, hopeful that with their vague and useless interpretations issued, they would soon release their audience, and she could crawl back into her bed. 

But he didn't stop in the same place as the others. He advanced until he stood an almost uncomfortably short distance from her. "The sky has given a message for you, personally, Hermione Granger. Saturn has chosen you to restore us all."

She couldn't take a breath, couldn't move, couldn't even blink.

She watched helplessly as her cheerful colleagues offered their congratulations and excitement over being bestowed with such great honor. Even Sprout had smiled approvingly and given her own glowing promise of support. 

The centaurs seemed placated as well.

But all Hermione could think about was getting away.

It was irrational. 

She knew that. 

Obviously. 

It was too bad she couldn't find it in herself to care.

Because every single second spent in the company of those who saw nothing wrong with foisting yet another impossible prophecy on her threatened to unleash the feral rage ravaging her body on the inside. 

If she didn't get somewhere alone before it broke free, she wouldn't be responsible for restoring life but of endangering it.

So she did what every part of her was begging her to do.

She ran.

Not even caring that there were people calling after her or that the closest avenue of escape was towards a section of the forest that the centaurs hadn't cordoned off to make safe for them. 

The moonless night made the wood darker, and she had to light her wand to keep from colliding with anything as she fled farther into ancient trees and the solitude they promised.

Even after the voices faded, she kept going.

Hermione felt him before she heard him. 

Or saw him.

And the question of how he'd found her brought on a barrage of uncertainties she didn't have the ability to handle as she kept up her ill-advised pace. 

But even knowing it was him, she pushed herself harder, no longer willing to be burdened by reason or obligation.

It just felt...good.

So good she didn't take kindly to his attempt to slow her. 

Luckily, well for her at least, the lack of other people nearby made it easy to navigate through the rocks, moss, vines, and fallen branches.

Of course Malfoy kept up, his voice right behind her and barely affected by the exertion. "You're headed straight for the river. I will stop you before you get that far."

She snatched her bicep away from the brief touch of his hand, keeping up her momentum despite his warning. 

Maybe she'd go for a swim to offset the burning in her veins.

Her next step ended that hope though, her foot coming down on a moss covered stone, dislodging it from its partially buried dwelling and causing her to unwillingly dive towards the earth.

The landing was hard, but not nearly as hard as it could have been because Malfoy had wrapped himself around her, tucking her head into his chest with a hand to her curls, his other arm and one long leg curled around her so that she hadn't struck the ground at all. 

But the incline they'd fallen to caused them to roll slightly so that he ended up on top of her.

Even without the full bulk of his weight pressing against her, she struggled to get free.

"Fuck, Granger, just...calm down a minute." He didn't even shift when she tried to shove him away. "The accidents aren't enough, now you're intentionally trying to harm yourself?"

She pushed against him harder. 

His hand fell to the back of her neck, applying pressure over the ridiculous amount of it he could touch at once, his fingers and palm hot against her already flushed skin. 

A little more firmness from his grip and she was torn forcibly from the impulses of her sympathetic nervous system, stilling entirely beneath him.

She couldn't even voice her surprise.

He must have calmed her with some kind of spell. 

After several heavy breaths, he pulled back but still had her caged in. "If I move, are you going to run again?"

She shook her head, unable to look at him directly, feeling like the whole experience had been something not entirely ordinary.

Malfoy eased away, and Hermione sat up, curling her legs into herself and holding her arms around them, tucking her chin into her knees.

If she had the ability to make herself smaller she would have. 

But he didn't rush her. 

He let her calm down in the peace of the dark forest, as he leaned against a tree in a position so far removed from his posh pureblood upbringing she likely would have made a quip about it under different circumstances.

But it didn't seem appropriate just then.

"Thanks for not letting me get hurt," she said, finally breaking the silence between them.

"Want to explain what this is about?"

She pulled her legs in tighter. "Not long ago, muggle space agencies launched a probe meant to study Saturn that's so large it needs the orbital momentum of three other planets just to get there. It's traveling towards Jupiter now."

"I must have missed the news."

"All the advancements of modern astronomy and aerospace engineering, and I'm still being cornered and shoved into roles I never asked for just because of how some giant rocks appear in the night sky."

Malfoy took a long time to answer. "I didn't care for what they had to say either. But just because there's truth in your muggle science doesn't mean theirs isn't equally as factual."

The fuel of her anger had all burned out, leaving her to drift in the endless despair of emptiness instead. "Of course you wouldn't understand."

"I admit that I don't. It's part of what makes us magical. We're affected by signs and prophecies more than those without it. It's our responsibility to at least try to shape events into positive outcomes."

"Learned that from your predecessors, did you?"

"No," he said quietly, not matching her vicious tone.

But it didn't stop the self-righteous anger from again reaching a boiling point inside her. "Well I don't care if it's the truth or not. I won't let them alter my own will or my decisions. Because when I do something, I'm not seeking any kind of personal gain or trying to win some political favor. I quit that game the moment I realized I'd been stupid enough to be coerced into playing in the first place." She got to her feet. "Everything I do now, it's for one reason."

Malfoy was looking up at her with a mix of curiosity and disapproval. "And what reason is that?"

She allowed the venom in her words to flow freely, refusing to cede any ground even in their minimalistic skirmish. She met his hard gaze with one of her own. "Because I want to."

He didn't follow when she retraced her path back to the meadow.

Chapter Text

The second Hermione stepped into Neville's birthday celebration, she wished she had thought to ask Malfoy about the calming spell he'd used on her in the forest. 

Because she desperately needed it. 

Walking into the transformed and crowded dining facility felt like a physical attack, causing an immediate drain on her power.

After the quiet day she’d spent reading in bed because the centaurs had wanted time free of interference to perform their own study of the area, the sudden loss was jarring. 

It was enough to make her consider leaving, and had the event been planned for anyone else, she would have.

“Hermione," Zacharias called before she'd even made it fully into the space. "There you are. We were all just talking about last night."

She gave him a thin smile, searching for Neville and spotting him serving himself a pint of butterbeer from the magical tap set up in the corner.

She started his way, but Zacharias, who'd pounced as soon as she came in, threw his heavy arm around her shoulder and steered her towards his huddle of friends instead.

She knew she'd regret obvliating the entire wolf incident from his mind.

"Neville told us about how new prophecies require a period of introspection guided by the inner eye.”

Hermione gave the guest of honor, who’d noticed her trouble and stopped to listen, a small smile of thanks that he’d covered for her. 

“Yes," she said, shrugging away from him, "I didn’t want to lose the opportunity. Sorry I had to run off though."

She wasn't the least bit apologetic.

Ernie stepped to her other side. "We were wondering if you learned anything new. How you'll restore everything to normal. A few of us have ideas and wanted to know if we're right."

"Ten galleons on the line," a woman across from them added while laughing. 

So weak she couldn't even manage an argument, Hermione only kept the fake smile plastered across her face. "I'll let you know if I learn anything. Excuse me."

Having to duck between Zacharias and Ernie as they'd each gotten uncomfortably close, Hermione escaped towards Neville, thankfully not followed by any of the people callously taking bets on her future.

After gratefully accepting the butterbeer Neville had poured for her, she took up the place to his side. "Happy birthday."

"Thanks," he said. "I'm not one for all the attention, but Theo got so excited over the prospect of a party, putting up with them has been worth it to make him happy."

She knew exactly which group of their colleagues he spoke of. At least Sprout was absent. "Where is he?"

Neville angled towards the entrance, his chest expanding on a heavy inhale. "Bringing the cake in now, actually." He flicked his wand to open the door.

A cake so large it obscured the whole upper half of the wizard levitating it in floated into its place on a decorated table.

As soon as the wedding-worthy confection was stable, Theo went straight to Neville, who surprised the remaining guests by pulling the shorter man in close for an enthusiastic kiss.

Even Hermione, who'd known of their relationship, wasn't prepared for the show of uninhibited ardor from the two. It made her feel light and cheerful and almost distracted her from the otherwise depressing strain of being around so many people. 

Finally pulling back and looking rather smug, Neville said, "Hermione, I’d like to reintroduce you to Theo Nott, Hogwarts charms professor."

Through laughter, they gave matching faux introductions even though they'd spent years at school together. 

"As I recall, you were always quite good at charms, too," Theo said.

"I still am," she said, then thought about it. "Or I was. I'm having a slight bit of trouble with the temperature charm in my office, so I can't speak too highly of my current skills."

"We'll stop by for a visit the week after next, and I'll see if I can adjust it for you."

"Really? That would be ever so kind. At least one section of the ministry won't be sweltering. We can grab lunch while you're there."

Theo gave Neville a strange look, and Neville nodded. "I'm looking forward to it. Who’s ready to cut the cake?” He asked, his enthusiasm covering whatever had been on his face before.

They served Hermione the second slice, right after Neville, and then the two of them chatted with everyone else there as they delivered plates around to the guests, Theo being far more social than she'd remembered from their past. 

And Neville far more...intense. From the moment Theo had arrived, Neville been almost solely focused on him.

"A bit over the top, isn't it?"

She startled, not having noticed Zacharias walk over. "What is?"

"Them," he said.

She scowled. "I think it's wonderful, actually. To see people I care for happy."

"What about you? Are you seeing anyone?"

She choked on her butterbeer. "What? Why?"

"You have a lot to deal with, especially since last night. I could help you, Hermione. And you could thank me by acknowledging the attraction between us.”

She took a step back. “It’s impossible to acknowledge what's nonexistent."

"I assume that means you're spoken for."

"I am actually," she hissed. "I speak for me. And I have zero desire for you or any other man to stake his claim like I'm some sort of possession." 

After only taking a moment to bask in the look he gave, she stumbled away, her power loss so bad it was making her dizzy as she searched for Neville and Theo.

Once locating them, she interrupted their conversation with another couple. 

"Are you alright?” Neville asked quickly.

"I'm good, just need some sleep," she smiled to cover how truly awful she felt. "I don't know if I'll be able to do any research tomorrow though."

"I'll let Sprout know you aren't feeling well."

"Thanks," she said, and then she remembered a worry she'd had since early that morning. "I need to ask for something else. There's a salamander, one from the cave where we ran into each other the first day, that's been following me while I work. Could you check on him for me? His name is Scorch. I’m afraid he’s going to be anxious if I stay away too long."

"Yeah, of course," he replied, giving her a curious look. "I would have this morning too. So you wouldn't have had to ask Malfoy for a favor. I'm sure that went over well."

"What do you mean?"

"You didn't ask him to do the same? Or threaten him?" He laughed.

Theo joined in. "He carried the tiny thing around on his shoulder all day. It was hilarious."

While she wondered why Malfoy would do such a thing, another wave of exhaustion hit her, causing her to sway on her feet.

The two men looked at each other with concern. "Come on, let's get you outside. We'll go with you."

Refusing to allow Neville to leave his own birthday celebration, Hermione denied them. 

Instead, they escorted her to the exit while saying their goodbyes, with Theo promising to owl when her trip was finished so they could exchange ideas about a new charm for her office. 

The walk back to the cabin did little to strengthen her, and even climbing up the short staircase proved to be a daunting chore. 

She wasn't sure she could make it to her bed.

She hadn't seen Malfoy at all the whole day, but that changed when she went through the door.

He lounged on their lone piece of furniture with a half empty bottle of what looked suspiciously like firewhiskey on the table in front of him, and his eyes roved over her as soon as she entered, making her flush with heat.

But before she could even process the awful implications of her reaction, he made it unnecessary by opening his mouth.

"You look dreadful," he said.

She shoved the door closed a bit too forcefully. "Thanks, arsehole. I feel dreadful."

Without thinking, and certainly only because of how her magic reacted to him, she walked to the sofa and fell into it, it’s small size meaning they were within reaching distance. 

Malfoy's long inhale reminded her she'd been impulsive. 

She sat straight. "Oh—sorry...I should have asked...would you...do you mind—?"

"Stop," he gritted. "You're going to give me a headache before morning, and I only brought along one hangover cure." He took a long drink from his glass, going on dully, "Besides, our peace treaty decreed common lands and properties to be neutral territory and therefore accessible to both of us."

Relaxing into the soft upholstery once more, she soaked up the strength given by his excess flow of power. "Oh thank god."

"Fairly sure that thanks belongs to me."

"I—" She guessed he did have a decent argument there. "Thanks, Malfoy..." Already, his proximity had made an impact. "This is..." She searched for the right phrase of appreciation.

But he spoke first. "Never thought I'd admit it, but I miss the self-righteous know-it-all version of you whenever your brain succumbs to the effects of magic deficiency like this." He tapped the side of her foot with his. "Any change?"

"Yes, actually. I'm starting to feel much better," she said honestly, pulling her legs up to cross them beneath her, getting more comfortable, the heavy scent she'd become much more familiar with causing her to breathe deeply into it. But because she still hadn't reached the level of cognition to keep her errant thoughts from coming out of her mouth unbidden, she then added, "You don't smell like I thought you would."

Her eyes had drifted closed, but she could still hear his amused huff. "Yeah? What did you expect?"

"For you to wear something disgustingly expensive. And posh." The thought was nice but wholly unappealing. "Something that gives the impression you've never spent more than an hour out of doors."

"Well that's certainly what I was going for."

She picked her head up to look at him. "Then you've failed miserably."

"What is it like to you instead?" So close, his voice seemed even lower than it typically did.

She inhaled again, wrinkling her nose when she found that she liked the scent a little too much considering it belonged to someone she did not deem applicable to entertain such thoughts of.

"You smell like Christmas." She tried to issue the statement as an insult. But her magic-starved brain ruined the effect by continuing with her unfiltered stream of consciousness aloud. "Like I’m surrounded by wreaths and garlands made of fresh pine boughs...and someone's lit a fire in the hearth...it's like..." She choked back the word that nearly escaped. "It's comforting."

He looked unsettled. "Fuck, Granger, what did they do to you at this party?"

She groaned. "Nothing." Which was almost true. Still, the dishonesty didn't sit well so she explained. "Most of them spent the entire hour I was there speculating how I was going to save them all. They're foaming at the mouth to see what grand sacrifice I'll have to make to fulfill my new destiny. Then I had to fend off advances from an idiot."

"Smith?"

"He asked if I was single. As if I'd consider him. Should have seen the look on his face when I told him I'm unattached by choice and not looking to change that."

He swirled his glass, the liquid in it almost reaching the top. "Sounds like you need this as much as I do. Drink?"

She only thought about it for half a second. "Only to dull the pain of having to listen to you talk."

He bit back a smile as he summoned another glass from the kitchenette and poured her some of his firewhiskey. "I thought you said I made you feel better."

Swallowing a burning sip, she looked at him over the rim. "Not mentally."

A familiar smile spread over his face. "So I do it for you physically then?"

She rolled her eyes and silently scolded her body for feeling too warm again all of the sudden. It was just the alcohol hitting her system. "Of all the ways you can think to get under my skin, that's what you go with?"

Malfoy finished off his remaining whiskey and poured himself another, his amusement growing more evident. "Interesting choice of words. Were they intentional?"

"Wha—?" She reflected on her previous retort. "Of course not. Jesus, how much have you had?" 

She only saw one bottle, but he could easily have already disposed of others.

When he turned back to her, the itch to run came on strongly enough to scare her. But not because the urge itself was borne from fear. 

No, it was because it came laced with a disorienting dose of want.

Which...what. The. Fuck.

Her distress must have been noticeable, because he used it to his advantage. "Probably too much. What's wrong? Afraid I might actually try to seduce you? Or are you worried you’ll let it happen?"

This was not where she'd intended this to go. She needed to regain control before she did something highly regrettable. Especially since he was just using her discomfort for the purpose of his own amusement.

Or maybe trying to distract her from the previous part of her night. 

Either way, she needed to put an end to it before her strange reactions made her choose the path of stupidity. God, he would never stop teasing her if she let herself show any sign of weakness.

Fixing a scathing look of reproach on her face, she shook her head. "As if you'd ever risk accidentally siring anything less than a perfect pureblood spawn." 

His answering expression sent her swimming into memories of fairy tales. Of trickster wolves and well designed traps and unsuspecting prey.

“Not that I'd give a fuck anyway," he said, much to her surprise. "But I don't have to worry about that at all thanks to my mother's deranged sister. There'll be no spawn from me no matter who else I involve.”

Suddenly drowning in glacial water, she looked at him with horror. “Malfoy, I…I didn’t know…god, I would never have said that if…”

She thought she might be sick.

But he only looked pleased with himself. "Untwist your knickers, Granger. I've said far worse to you."

She couldn't reconcile what he'd just revealed to her though. It wasn't something they'd disclosed in his trial, and she wondered how many people knew. She was well aware of Bellatrix's obsession with the spell but...

It didn't make sense. "Why would...you were her own family…on her side of the war."

"Yes well, I don't know if you remember, but none of them could be arsed to think about the future beyond their own selfish ambitions. She thought I wasn't fit for furthering the Black family line so she made sure I couldn't."

Hermione pulled at the sleeve of her thin jumper, "It's a complicated spell. Have you seen healers?"

"Complicated. Irreversible. And yes," he said, with no further information. "The bitch was good at spellcrafting, I'll give her that."

She hummed her agreement. It was unfortunately true. Then, for no other reason than she wanted to, she made a decision to tell him what only three others knew. “This isn't something I share with many people, but...I was one of the first she practiced that same spell on."

From her periphery, she saw his muscles tense.

“It was when the snatchers caught us and took us to her manor. Before we were rescued by Dobby. She used the cruciatus and then said she would keep me from ever passing along my stolen magic. Healers couldn't reverse the damage on me either.”

“Granger…”

She shot him a stern look. “Don't. There’s no need. I’m actually grateful it was me. God, it would have killed Harry or Ron. If it had to be any of us, I was the best option. The one who had the nature to move on from it.”

Surprisingly, he actually listened to her, relaxing back into the sofa and drinking another gulp from his glass.

When he focused on her again, he appeared ready to give his own confession. “I’m glad she chose me, too. It was the worst punishment anyone could have given my father. The bastard deserved it.”

She sipped on her own drink. “That’s really fucked up.”

“I don’t care,” he said darkly.

Her hands went up in a show of non-hostility. “I’m not judging. If I were you and had to live the way you did, used ruthlessly and still expected to produce the next heir on demand, I swear I would have castrated myself.”

“Jesus, Granger, you’re insane.” His mood shifted back towards amused. 

"I'm pragmatic," she said defensively. "There's a difference."

His answering laugh was warming. “I meant it in a good way. But, luckily for me, the spell had the same effect without leaving a single aesthetic flaw. Would have been unforgivable to ruin something so magnificent.”

Turning so she wouldn't have to see the wolfish grin on his face was a necessity.

“Earlier versions of her spell lacked finesse." Spurred by alcohol and the high of commiseration, and maybe just slightly to make him feel bad for boasting, Hermione adjusted her jumper higher and then slowly rolled down the elastic waistband of her leggings to where they just barely covered her more intimate area, revealing the pink scar that marred the skin between her hip bones, a jagged line with offshoots that had always reminded her of a leafless tree branch. She leaned back to offer a better view. "I'm stuck with this." 

She felt the sofa shift as he leaned in closer. 

When she looked back up, Malfoy was staring at the mark so intently she carefully fixed her clothes into their proper place, once again burning all over.

His rough voice interrupted her spiral into what she was sure was embarrassment induced panic. "Does it hurt?"

Thankfully, she hoped at least, he wasn't going to comment on her momentary lapse in propriety. 

"When it happened," she said, "like a motherfucker. But now I hardly ever even think of it."

He drained the rest of his drink and brought his glass down against the table. "Right, well, you've sufficiently regained power, I assume?" 

She nodded quickly that she had, because it was true and because she was eager to avoid the risk of any more indiscretions on her part.

Barely even giving her a chance to respond, he stood and made for his room.

But then she remembered something else she needed from him. "Oh wait. Will you tell me what calming spell you used on me...after I fell...when you touched my neck?"

He paused halfway across their common area, turning back, his puzzlement giving her another shock of anxiety.

The way he examined her made her lose her curiosity altogether.

"Never mind...it's...it's not important." She jumped off the sofa, losing her balance slightly because of the alcohol, but not enough she couldn't correct it, and she hurried to her own private space.

"I would tell you, Granger," he said calmly.

She had been so close to the sanctuary of her bedroom.

"But I didn't use one."

Fuck.

She shut him out and waved a silencing spell to avoid answering any questions.

Chapter Text

Goddamn…

Fucking…

Extension charm…

Hermione threw her bag across the room.

Apparently alcohol and whatever was wrong with her magic did not mix, the sharp pain in her head strong enough to convince her to never repeat the mistake again. 

And because of her useless bag, she didn't even have access to a hangover cure or her emergency stash of muggle medications. 

Thank god she'd told Neville she wouldn't feel well enough to research because even the thought of leaving her room was making her stomach churn and her vision blur.

She scribbled a quick birthday message to Harry and checked to see if she’d received any new replies from either him or Ginny only to find that she still hadn’t. Which was probably for the best because she certainly wouldn't be able to read anything or write a cohesive response until her headache subsided.

She closed her eyes for a few more minutes before deciding she couldn't stand it any longer.

Abandoning her room in search of caffeine and food, she shuffled towards the kitchenette. But as she passed the plain wooden dining table, she saw it wasn't cleared as usual. There was a glass of water sitting next to a small bottle. 

And a note held in place with a sticking charm between them, two words written in elegant handwriting that could only belong to one person.

Drink both.

Bristling at the demand didn't keep her from downing the potion, and as soon as she felt like herself again, she knew she'd made the right decision.

So she sat until she finished the water, too.

Sufficiently hydrated and no longer in a pain-induced state of rage, she moved to the sofa.

Malfoy had left a book on the table there. 

With how familiar she'd become to the feeling of his magic when he was near, she knew he'd already gone for the day or she would have been able to ask if she could borrow it. Surely he wouldn't mind though. Especially if she told him she couldn't get her own reading materials, or anything else, free of her bag. 

His book was old, one she'd never heard of, a text of rare and alternative healing practices.

She flipped it open to where a folded piece of parchment served as a bookmark.

She knew she shouldn’t look at it.

She should set it to the side and focus on the book.

It wasn’t the right thing to do.

Curiosity overpowered her integrity.

It was a list of potions ingredients, half of them checked off. Asphodel, doxy eggs, valerian root, arborvitae, chamomile, venomous tentacula leaves, dill, powdered unicorn horn and—

Unicorn blood?

What would…what was Malfoy doing? 

She’d been defending and protecting him—using a spell she fucking hated—and he was collecting regulated ingredients and planning to steal fucking unicorn blood?

Forget the imperius, she was going to avada him.

After pacing like a caged animal for longer than she’d ever admit, she decided to direct her frustration into something constructive, snatching up the book and taking it to the dining table to read. 

Most of the information had since become obsolete, but it did include useful skills and advice for making potions. 

Her magic warned her of Malfoy’s arrival, but Hermione didn't acknowledge him as he came in. 

"You look better.”

She still didn't look at him. "Hangover cure will do that. I thought you said you only brought one."

"I did."

He still hadn't come close enough to see what she was reading. "How was Scorch today?" 

"Fine," he said. "How did you—ah, I see you and Nott get along. I shouldn’t be surprised."

"I like him,” she said, flipping the page. “Neville does too. And it seems as if he returns the sentiment."

"I'm aware of how he feels about Longbottom."

That finally drew her attention to him. "You don't approve?"

"Not for any conclusion you've come to. What's wrong with you? You've been here alone all day. I thought that made it easier for you."

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” He dropped into the seat across from her, but his casual posture turned deadly still as he noticed she had his book.

"You left it out," she said defensively. "Near me." 

His lips twitched as he relaxed once more. "I hope you found it more instructional than I have."

"I don't know," she said, "I've yet to reach the part about the uses for the blood of rare creatures. Maybe you can share some of what you've learned."

While staring at him, she unfolded his parchment, smoothing its creases against the table. 

Her simmering anger was almost too intense to regulate. Especially when his magic began to crackle with a wrath of his own.

"So your obsession with the written word ventures beyond the academic and into private documents. I’m suddenly no longer inconvenienced by not being able to receive owls."

"I wouldn't read your letters, you arse."

“You had no means to know if this were one.” He snatched the parchment from the table.

“I—that's irrelevant. I saw you harvesting asphodel so I know you're collecting ingredients. I overlooked it at first, but this is too far. You of all people should remember what happens to those who choose to drink unicorn blood."

"That's what—?" He shifted closer, leaning over the table on his forearms. "You think I'm going to kill one?"

"What am I supposed to—"

His harsh scoff interrupted her. "Of course you do. Why wouldn't you? You understand what it's like to be used and even what it's like to be harmed. But you've always been the savior. You have no idea what it's like when they all expect you to be the villain instead."

"If you want to play the hero maybe you shouldn't be so defensive about your intentions."

"I don't want to be a fucking hero,” he said harshly. “I want to be able to contribute without having to constantly prove my worth."

She refused to back off. "Then tell me why you’re really here."

Malfoy stared at her long enough she thought he might actually choose to be reasonable and confess.

But of course that would have been too much to ask. 

He shoved his chair back and stood. "I don't owe you an explanation. We aren't friends, Granger. We don't even like each other. We have a truce founded on the false pretenses of your ability to judge me without dredging up the transgressions of my past, and that's all."

She glared as she watched him leave through the front door.

Still fuming, she went back to her room, and she swiped the message notebook from her side table.

Harry had left a laughably short reply.

Thanks. Handing over to Gin.

Ginny must have been making up for the past days of no communication because no words had appeared from her yet. 

Hermione crawled back into her bed, somehow still exhausted despite just being restored to her full ability thanks to the arsehole's magic. 

She decided she could deal with him in a day or two. 

Because she desperately needed a nap. 

And afterwards, she was finally going to have a few hours treating this trip like a true holiday by going for a swim in the natural pool she’d found. 

With a light cushioning charm to protect her bare feet from rocks, Hermione walked through the forest towards the pool, excited she would finally get the chance to enjoy it.

Her swimsuit had luckily been among the piles of clothes she'd unpacked right after her arrival, and she'd grabbed one of the bath towels to cover herself as she traveled the short distance to her destination.

Guilt at not asking the centaurs if she could swim there was quickly swept aside as she reminded herself they didn't ask for her opinion before trespassing into her future.

So she didn't care.

The scene was as enchanting as she'd remembered. The water was a vibrant aquamarine and clear enough to see the smooth stones at the bottom. Sheer rock faces and loose boulders surrounded the pool, with moss and giant ferns growing in between, and a gentle pouring of water down one stone surface.

It would have been perfect.

Had it not been already occupied.

Pausing at the bottom of the hill where the water met the slope, she crossed her arms over her towel. "What are you doing here?"

Malfoy was treading water to the side of the falls. "Having a swim, Granger, what's it look like."

"I found it first so it's my turn."

“I’ve not finished. Unless you’re willing to join me, try back in an hour or two.”

“It'll be dark by then.”

He moved a little closer to the side, presumably so he could reach standing depth. "Did you even bother to get permission? Or do you make it a habit of doing whatever you please with others' property?"

If she had been warm before now she was burning. 

Fuck. 

It wasn't worth it. She should just leave and come back when he was finished. She felt confident she’d be able to make enough light to counteract the lack of sun.

But he was the one who had misled her into thinking his reputation was unwarranted. If anyone had to concede, it would not be her.  

So she placed her wand onto a nearby rock, loosened her towel to set it there as well, and then carefully stepped into the chilled water, pretending Malfoy couldn't see her for the short moments it took for her to swim from the entry point to the cover of a wall of rocks and greenery that jutted slightly inward at the middle of the pool.

Once hidden from view, she situated herself into a seat in the stone and closed her eyes, thankfully afforded peaceful silence for long enough that she was able to relax.

The cold water felt so glorious it almost made her forget Malfoy was just on the other side of the natural divider.

So of course he had to ruin it by speaking.

“Don't know why you're bothering to hide." His voice was close, as if he'd moved against the other side of the wall between them. "It’s nothing I haven’t seen before."

Her eyes snapped open. "Excuse me?"

"What was that Witch Weekly headline from last year? Brightest witch bares all during scandalous seaside holiday.”

She looked down at herself. She'd forgotten she'd been wearing the same thing in that photo. “This is a normal swimsuit. And should I be concerned you have that memorized?”

Malfoy made a disdainful noise. "So I glanced at it once or twice. It was easy enough to remember a few syllables."

She groaned. "I'd love for you to take one of your vows of silence right now."

He didn't answer so she took it as an acceptance, and enough time went by that she was able to ignore his presence for the most part, with only the telling intermingling of their magic, a slightly more frenetic exchange than usual.

She slid farther down into the cool water, until it covered the tops of her shoulders, and it felt so good she moaned softly.

Malfoy's growled curse made her tense.

"What?" She asked, belatedly realizing in doing so she’d invited him to resume conversation.

He didn't respond.

She’d almost thought she’d gotten away with her mistake until he appeared from behind the end of the rocks, bare from the waist up, his skin shining, water droplets clinging to the expanse of lean muscle.

Hermione scrambled backwards onto her spot from before.

"Calm down," he said, crossing his arms, leaning a shoulder against the stone. The water only came to his waistline. "I'll turn away if you'd like. I just...my magical energy feels unstable, and I want to see if being closer makes any difference."

She sighed and gave up on her attempt to  cover herself. Like he'd said, he'd already seen the photos. "It’s fine. Mine's unstable too."

"Low?" 

"Not exactly." She swallowed. "It's...restless."

His expression didn't change. "I think we should try to figure out more about why this is happening between us."

"I've been trying to think of an explanation. It's just...well there's a lot of other problems to solve too." And he’d recently added another.

One side of his lip curled, reminiscent of a snarl. "So you hate prophecy because of its demands but when it comes to your own prioritization, you rank yourself at the very bottom. What sense does that make?"

"It makes perfect sense,” she said. “I want to be allowed to choose. That's it."

The way his eyes roved over her made her want to submerge herself. "If you're always choosing someone else, who chooses you?"

She straightened. “I don't need anyone to."

His disapproval was obvious. "I don't have the same rationality."

"Yes,” she said, glaring at him. “You’ve made it clear you'll always put yourself first."

His jaw clenched visibly, but Malfoy closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. When he looked back at her, she couldn’t help the sudden spike of adrenaline she felt at being essentially trapped.

"I want to know what happens when we touch."

She narrowed her eyes.

He held his palm out as he had when they'd shared a portkey. "Just for a few seconds, Granger."

She had to leave her perch to reach him, but she couldn't very well deny the opportunity to conduct an experiment. Especially when it could lead to answers about something that had been so troublesome for so long. 

“Seconds,” she reiterated, taking his hand the same way she had before. 

It felt even more absurd than the first time.

"Notice anything?"

She focused on the sensations. "It's not like when you calmed me. It's similar to how it is when we're in the same place. Stronger though."

"For me too,” he said. “The transfer of power between us, what exactly does that feel like for you?"

She tried to remember any important details, mostly talking out loud to herself rather than to him. “At first it was strange. Like a random surge of energy, and I couldn't place its origin.”

"And currently?"

She vaguely remembered she still held onto his hand. His was so much larger than her own. "It’s different…less abstract …like my magic has gotten accustomed to it.”

“Accustomed how?”

She allowed herself to explore the connection fully. “I can feel that it’s you inside me.”

"Fucking christ, Granger."

Startled, she refocused on him. “Wait—oh god, that’s—that came out wrong—“

"Clearly." He jerked his hand away from hers.

The disturbed look on his face reignited her anger. "What? Now you're offended by the thought? Wasn't it you who threatened to seduce me last night?"

"Yes, well, intoxication leads to poor decision making or so I've heard."

She crossed her arms over her bare stomach. "It lowers inhibitions, it doesn't change who you are."

Malfoy’s answering expression unnerved her. "Are you insinuating that I want you?"

Refusing to show weakness, she glared back. "You said it, not me."

He moved closer, until he was towering over her, forcing her to have to tilt her head back to hold his gaze. "My cock may like how you look in your scraps of muggle fabric, Granger."

Oh god.

"But that doesn't mean I'd ever fuck someone who believes I want to slaughter innocent creatures for my own gain.” His rough voice splintered with icy derision. “You've made your opinion of me excruciatingly clear."

She ignored the fire ravaging her midsection. "Am I meant to be disappointed by that?"

"You tell me,” he said. “You're the one who can barely keep your eyes from me."

She snapped her gaze away from his chest where she’d been accidentally staring. "Just because the universe fucked up and made someone with such a lousy personality look so appealing doesn't mean I'm stupid enough to have sex with you."

"Glad we have that sorted then."

"So am I."

Malfoy shoved a hand through his wet hair. "We still have to figure out why our magic is like this though.”

“The sooner the better,” she muttered.

“I want to see if you react the same to me touching your neck as you did before. May I?"

Glaring at him in annoyance, she gathered her hair to the side with one hand and tilted her head to offer him access. "Unfortunately," she gritted, "yes, go ahead."

He stepped closer, reaching up, and the moment his fingers grazed the overly sensitive space between her neck and shoulder, she involuntarily moved towards him as well, so distracted by the sensation she didn't realize until it was too late that she'd rested her head right against the middle of Malfoy's chest. And since his palm was now cradling the entire expanse of her neck and gently applying pressure, she was too at ease to consider pulling away.

"Shameful reaction towards someone you believe has sinister plans."

Even her voice came out calm. "I'd like to see you attempt to do any better."

"Try it then."

"Fine. I will." 

She reached up to grip him in the same spot that caused the most intensity for her, going up on her toes as she used her body weight to apply more force. 

A small cry of shock left her as his free hand landed on the back of her thigh, lifting her so they were eye level as he pinned her back against the smooth stone wall.

Her legs wrapped around him intuitively.

He buried his face into the crook of her neck, his breathing harsh against her skin, the rise and fall of it quick between her thighs and against her own chest.

"Yes, well done," she panted. "Excellent show of restraint."

The insult probably lacked its intended sting considering how tightly she clung to him and how her own head had fallen to his shoulder.

His tone proved he'd taken it as one anyway. "As if you're the paragon of self-control."

His scent was making her head feel fuzzy. "What are we..."

"We aren't fucking," he growled against her neck. 

"I...absolutely agree."

"Good."

"Perfect."

"This is just our faulty magic,” he said.

She lifted her head from against him. "You should probably put me down then."

After a final inhale, he pushed off from the wall and carefully lowered her back into the pool.

The temperature shocked her back into the proper headspace.

Instead of waiting for him to back away, she slipped beneath the surface of the water to swim around him, and once she'd reached the sloped bank, she snatched up her towel and her wand and rushed in the direction of the cabin.

What the fuck was that?

She was going to have to go back to hiding in her room to avoid interacting with Malfoy. 

She was still trying to devise a plan to avoid working with him when she turned the corner towards their front door.

She stopped on the last step leading up to the veranda. "Oh, Neville. How...how was the rest of your party?"

"Good," he said. "Just came by to let you know I'll be staying out here the rest of the week. In a small tent or I'd offer you a space."

"What about Theo?"

"He’s visiting friends."

Judging from his demeanor, the absence wasn’t planned. “Everything alright I hope?"

"Not really. I probably shouldn't say...but Pansy’s been struggling with her magic. She’s taken a turn for the worst."

She blinked at him. "Parkinson?"

"She's a Zabini now, but yeah. Blaise hired private healers after they got married. They've all been researching curses and obscure remedies. Even Malfoy has been helping. She hasn’t been able to cast so much as a lumos in over a year.”

Malfoy. Researching cures. Which undoubtedly included the need to learn about rare ingredients. And he was doing it because of a sick friend he clearly cared for enough to risk being caught illegally harvesting.

Great, now she was the complete arsehole.

Chapter Text

Hermione paced in front of Malfoy's door as quietly as possible, her feet tracing the same circuit for the two-hundred and sixtieth time. 

She’d fucking counted.

But every time she’d lifted her hand to knock, she hadn’t been able to make herself complete the action. 

To say she was conflicted would have been an understatement. Because flawed as it revealed her to be, she didn't feel much guilt over reading Malfoy's parchment. She'd always been unable to keep herself from the pursuit of information, personal or otherwise. It had quite literally saved her life countless times, and she didn't think she'd ever learn to keep her curiosity in check because of it.

The problem was what she'd chosen to do with the new knowledge afterwards. 

Self-loathing scalded her insides. 

Because once again, she'd allowed her past with Malfoy to overshadow her convictions. 

She hated when a scrap of information was used to justify drastic action. It was her primary reason for finding prophecy so unpalatable. How people in power could take little scraps of truth, manipulate them into whatever they wished, tout them as indelible, and then callously watch their shite be consumed by those willing to champion a cause they know nearly nothing about.

She refused to participate in such bastardizations of intellectualism. 

Which meant another freaking apology was in order. 

To the man who not only made her act borderline insane, but who’d also been a constant fixture in her uncharacteristically lust-clouded thoughts since he’d invaded her swim the day before.

God, the way he had felt against—

Oh no. Not an option.

She stopped pacing right in front of the door. Maybe she should just—

“You realize I can feel you just as clearly as you can me, Granger?” Malfoy swung the wooden barrier inward, replacing it with his imposing stature, his typical all-black uniform hitting her harder than before, a powerful hex directly to her middle. “This was entertaining at first, but I’m growing impatient. What is it? Miss me today? Or is there something else you’d like to accuse me of?”

She shook her head at his last question, not trusting her voice quite yet.

He flicked his icy gaze over her. “What's wrong?”

She needed to just get on with it. 

Quickly.

“I shouldn’t have used your past against you. I criticized everyone else for it, and then at the first test of my own character, I failed in the same manner. It won’t happen again.” She shot her hand out. "Here."

Their fingers brushed as he took the small vial from her and inspected it, not managing to completely hide his surprise. "When did you harvest these?"

"An hour ago. It should be easier to find them this late in the season." 

It had taken all damn day though.

Malfoy hummed his agreement as he stored the bottle. Then he fixed her with a dark glare. "Collecting tentacula leaves without a permit is illegal with the ongoing shortages. As I'm sure someone in your line of work is aware."

She gave him an unimpressed frown, beginning to regret her decision to make amends. "Are you going to call the aurors on me? You should know I've already planned six ways to escape capture in the event I lost my temper and cursed you."

His answering smile made her shuffle backwards. 

But Malfoy kept her from being able to retreat by circling around her just as she turned, his stance so casual it almost seemed as if he hadn't cornered her on purpose. But his smirk proved otherwise. “And you said my apology skills needed improvement. You didn’t even say the most important words.” He took another step closer. 

She tried to find his eyes but landed in the vicinity of his throat instead, so close she could feel his body heat. "You're serious?"

"I'm always serious."

Something in the deep rumblings of his voice was altering her cerebral chemistry, an unknown frequency that arranged and shifted her synapses to his will.

“Fine.” Her hands landed on his abdomen with the intention of shoving him away, but she found herself clawing into handfuls of fabric instead. “I’m...sorry.”

Heavy hands fell to her hips. “How sorry?”

She blinked up at him.

It was a game. She knew that. An effort to humble her because of how she’d treated him, to tease her with his touch because he’d found her reactions to it easy to exploit. 

The problem was, even knowing, she still found herself struggling to resist seeing how far he’d allow it to go on. After spending the entire night fitfully unable to sleep because she’d refused to meet her body’s pleas for an orgasm when he had been the catalyst for her arousal, her pride had taken its own vow of silence and then left her stranded.

The insistence on leaving herself unsatisfied had been a monumental mistake.

Whether he meant what he was doing or not became irrelevant.

Because she realized she did mean it.

“Enough that…” Her breathing quickened so that she had to pause to fill her lungs before going on. “I’ve changed my mind.”

Pressure increased where his fingers gripped her waist. “About?”

Frustrated with herself for admitting it at all, she refused to say the words outright, instead offering a petulant reminder of what she’d said to him in the water. “Doing something stupid.”

She had thought his voice couldn’t affect her any worse. That is, until his mouth grazed her ear, his whispered words quiet despite each one sinking into her skin like razor sharp teeth. “Are you asking me to fuck you?”

Her next inhale was ragged. "I...well, whatever this is between us…I’ve decided it’s a reasonable enough excuse to ignore our history for the sake of analyzation and..." She met his eyes, finding his own regarding her with warm curiosity. "I can’t help but think maybe we should give in."

"So it’s just the trouble with our magic?"

“No,” she confessed, probably a bit too harshly, but it had the positive effect of increasing the heat in his gaze. Grudgingly, she added, “I told you I found you appealing before."

His flash of teeth was less smile and more a visual representation of hunger. "You did."

She gripped his shirt tighter to keep herself from attempting to flee. “And you said..." The memory burned through her. "You said...you like the way I look, too. So it would make sense." She wasn't sure if she wanted to convince him or herself, but she kept talking, confused as to why he hadn’t put an end to her absurd attempt to rationalize yet. "It’s physical attraction. Something we normally wouldn’t act on but also both would agree to if things between us weren’t so complicated. It’s not coerced, only...amplified. And it would be a single lapse of restraint we could then absolve ourselves from by way of plausible deniability.”

He stared at her lips, using his hold on her to drag her towards his doorway, shifting so that her back pressed against the frame with him caging her in. “You’ve got everything figured out as usual. You did tell me you weren’t looking to change your relationship status."

She shook her head, an effort to promise she wouldn’t expect anything of him even if they took their game too far. She wasn’t that delusional. "No one ever has to know. After we leave...we can go back to our normal lives…like it never happened."

His thumbs traced an arc low on her stomach on each side and she was wound so tight just the thought of his fingers dipping lower sent more warmth pooling at her center.

Something snapped in his demeanor. “Are you sure, Granger?”

She inhaled sharply, no longer knowing what was real and what wasn’t. “Very…are you—you’re saying yes?”

He looked down at her as if he thought her question was the most unintelligent thing he'd ever heard. “Of course I’m saying yes.”

“W-why?” 

“Because I want to,” His answer was harsh, tinged with anger, but when he bent down closer to her, he spoke gently. “Isn’t that what you said influences your own choices?"

She nodded, a jerky motion that made her temple brush against his jaw.

Bringing his mouth teasingly close to hers, he spoke again roughly. "Yeah, well, maybe I’d like to try it your way for once."

He remained still, as if waiting to see if she truly meant to follow through, their breaths mixing in an intoxicating preview of what it would be like to close the distance between them.

So she did.

Gripping his shoulders while rising up on her toes, she crashed her mouth against his with a fierceness she’d never shown anyone else before. 

But she didn’t take time to examine it because he met her intensity with his own, lifting her abruptly and forcing her spine against the door frame, her front once again molded to his hard chest.

Wanting more, she nipped at his bottom lip, but it was his tongue that swiftly dominated her own, exploring her mouth without a hint of hesitation. 

She only thought his scent was addictive.

But his taste, it was going to break her.

Combined with his body crushing into her, the untamed claiming of her mouth, scrapes of his teeth on her lips, and the sure hold of his hands on her arse, she was losing herself in the torrent of new sensations.

Malfoy backed them into his room. 

She expected him to go directly to the bed, but he dropped her onto the top of a hard surface instead, her ankle digging into a drawer pull the only way her distracted mind had identified the piece of furniture. He tilted her head back with one palm against her jaw to keep up their desperate kiss while his other flattened across her back to bring the middle of her spread thighs against him. 

Right over the part of him she hadn’t felt yet.

Oh…

She let out a pathetic whimper, breaking their fused mouths on a gasp and staring down between them. “Oh—that’s—you are—oh god…”

He could not expect her to—

“Shh.” He brushed a calming stroke of his fingertips against her neck, his words a dark and disorienting promise. “When it’s time for you to take it, I’ll have you more than ready to.”

Malfoy fell heavily to his knees, and the sight of him kneeling before her was almost too much for her mind to comprehend, her uncertainty dissolving in an instant.

The sound she made barely seemed human.

She watched dazedly as his hands pushed at the insides of her thighs, spreading her indecently wide. He'd somehow picked up his wand, the wood wedged between his fingers and her jeans. 

Magic vibrated through her from where he concentrated it, preparing to cast. "Can I see the rest of you now, Granger?"

She opened her mouth to reply just as someone knocked on their door.

He stared up at her expectantly as if he hadn't even heard anything.

"Malfoy…"

"They'll leave,” he gritted.

Despite her body’s insistence on agreeing with him, her mind went straight to concern over Ginny. Then Pansy. "It...could be an emergency. Here...or at home." 

That finally caught his attention.

His head tipped towards the ceiling, and he took so long to let her go that whoever had knocked did so again.

He finally backed away.

Sliding to the floor on shaking legs, Hermione walked as fast as she could manage to answer.

Zacharias Smith stood on the veranda. 

Oh for fuck’s sake.

"What?" She snapped, thinking he should consider himself lucky she hadn't hexed him in frustration for what he'd just interrupted.

With an odd expression, he took a step back from her. "Still not feeling well, I assume?"

"Whether I am or not has not even the slightest impact on you. But I will tell you that I'm not feeling particularly conversational, so I suggest you tell me what you're doing here. Now."

He peered over her shoulder. "I'm here for him." Then to an even more dangerous looking than usual Malfoy, he said, "Pomona wants to see you. Immediately."

"What for?" She asked, barely keeping her voice in check.

"Sorry, Hermione. I'm sure Malfoy would prefer my discretion."

"How long is this going to take?"

The low hum from behind her back let her know Malfoy had understood exactly why she’d asked the question, and when he brushed past her to get outside, he gave a quick squeeze to her neck while his body hid the touch from being seen by their idiot colleague.

No one gave her an answer.

Startled awake, Hermione uncurled herself from where she’d dozed on the sofa, Malfoy’s ancient healing book fallen to the cushion still open beside her. 

She was sticky and uncomfortable with sweat, and strands of hair clung to her neck and forehead.

An uneasy feeling spread like fractures through her bones. 

Malfoy wasn’t there. 

He wasn’t there and she wanted him to be.

Needed him to be.

Why hadn’t he returned?

She cast a cooling charm but it did absolutely nothing.

It possibly made her feel even worse.

Thinking maybe she’d be cooler outside, Hermione stumbled to the dimly lit veranda.

She froze.

Because even as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could tell she wasn’t alone.

Not far from the bottom of the stairs leading to the cabin stood a group of people. She could make out Zacharias, and Ernie, and the woman who’d told her about their idiotic bets, and according to how many others she counted, the rest of their group had joined as well. 

They were all watching her but no one had said anything to explain their presence, causing an eerie feeling to creep over her. 

“Erm, is everything alright?” Her own heartbeat was making it difficult to hear.

“Hermione,” Ernie said, something off about his voice, “we’re actually here to ask you that.”

“I’m f-fine.”

Zacharias stepped forward. “It’s okay, Hermione. Pomona told us what happened.”

Hearing her name from him caused a twist in her stomach. “What are you talking about?”

The woman stepped around Zacharias. “What he did to you. We came to make sure you’re safe while he collects his belongings. Let us take care of you.”

Alarms rang in her ears.

What little power she’d felt she’d had inside had been bled dry by the group, and knowing she had no means of defending herself set her into a complete panic.

While still rapidly calculating her options, Hermione felt a familiar surge within her magic, and she sagged against the railing in relief.

Malfoy brushed by the others angrily, pausing on the opposite side of the staircase landing from her. “I’ve been dismissed. My portkey leaves in ten minutes. She's threatened to alert magical law enforcement if I refuse to comply.”

His eyes were clouded with occlusion to a dangerous degree. 

“Malfoy—”

"Don’t,” he said, his voice cold. “She already thinks I've done something to hurt you. As much as I...I forgot...I'm not allowed the things I want."

She glanced towards the others to find them watching, most with their wands in clenched fists. “Why does…she thinks this is your fault? I’ve been like this for months.”

He made a derisive noise. “You said yourself I’m the first one they would suspect if anything happened to you.”

“But it isn’t true. I can talk to—”

“No one cares if it’s true, Granger. She was searching for an excuse to get rid of me, and now she has one.” He moved towards their shared living space.

"Al-Malfoy…”

He stiffened as if she’d wounded him just by calling his name.

He turned back to her, every step closer stilted as if it were taken against his better judgment, but a quick assessment of her appearance chipped away some of the wall he’d constructed.

The backs of his fingers pressed into her cheek, and she nearly collapsed under the jolt of pleasure the simple action delivered. "Fuck, Granger. You're burning to the touch."

“Get off of her,” someone growled.

His touch disappeared, and it made her want to hiss in frustration.

“Come on, Hermione, you can come back when he’s gone,” Ernie said, his cajoling setting her teeth on edge. 

“Leave me alone,” she gritted. “I don’t need any of you. This entire situation is ridiculous—”

“Should probably stun her to keep her from hurting herself,” she heard one of the crowd say, followed by a nauseating chorus of agreements. 

“…Pomona will know how to reverse it…”

“…may need healers…”

She watched in horror as several wands raised in her direction.

But before any spells had a chance to hit their mark, the group flew in all directions as if an invisible silent explosion had detonated in the center of them, the only sounds the ones of unconscious bodies hitting the ground.

She turned wide-eyed to Malfoy. “Did you just—stun all of them? At the same time?”

Rage sparked around him. “Would you have preferred I hadn’t?”

With her chest heaving, she grabbed Malfoy’s hand.

“What are you—”

“I need your magic.”

Aided by his power, she conjured her patronus. “Find Pomona Sprout.” Her otter swam through the air on its back waiting for her message. “Tell her I quit.”

A streak of brilliant white light followed the otter down the dirt pathway.

Letting go of him was so painful she cradled her hand against her chest and staggered backwards. 

“Granger, maybe we should get you to a healer. I know some private ones, discreet ones…that could—”

She shook her head frantically. "I feel…” Like she was burning alive. Or if she didn’t have an orgasm soon she was going to start sobbing. “I’ve never felt like this before. It’s not normal. I understand that logically. But it’s also as natural as breathing.”

He backed farther away, the wood railing creaking ominously as he took hold of it. “What is it your body telling you to do?"

Her breath was coming in short pants. "It's telling me to run."

"Fuck, Granger, you really shouldn’t listen to it."

"Why?"

"Because mine wants to pursue. What if you...just walk away slowly?"

She swallowed back a cry of pain as the heat consuming her grew even hotter. "I…don’t think I can."

He cursed, and she swore she heard the sound of splintering wood along with it. "If you run right now, I won't be able to let you go."

"Would you be willing? If I chose to run, would I be forcing you to do something you didn't want?"

"I'm sorry I can't answer no to that."

"I don't want you to say no. Oh, god. I think...you’re the only way I’ll be able to feel better."

"Fuck. Fuck.” He tore at his hair, coming to his full height, the shift in the atmosphere between them enough to cause a rush of warm wetness between her legs. “You're going to walk—slowly—down those stairs. If you're smart you'll run towards the others. I will follow…far enough to see you reach someone capable of helping you. But if you run that way—towards the pool we swam in—I will catch you. I can't think of much that could stop me from getting inside you at that point."

A low moan escaped her.

Trembling violently, she carefully took the steps until she reached the path. But once there, she couldn’t make herself move. She looked back over her shoulder, at once sure and afraid of what she wanted to do. 

Malfoy had transformed into the picture of ease, a hand in one pocket as he casually walked down to her level. 

Her body had no delusions about his role as predator, adrenaline fueling the flames already consuming her. His scent became so strong she thought it might interrupt her ability to remain conscious, but his mouth at her ear shocked her system into renewed wakefulness. 

“I said run, Omega.”

She obeyed.

Not as fast as she could, but setting a steady enough pace that she felt she could use the head start to her advantage, especially since she could tell by her magic that he hadn’t begun to gain on her yet.

She made it all the way to the natural pool before considering slowing down, the sight drawing her attention. The water was lit by several large glowing stones at its bottom, making for a distractingly beautiful view. 

She made her way carefully around the water’s perimeter, pausing at the wall of rocks she’d used as a screen the day before. The bank side reached far over her head, with several ledges wide enough for her to sit on. 

She climbed up to the first one, bringing her knees to her chest to shrink back into the shadows. 

She pressed the heel of her palm between her thighs, but the sharp pain there only radiated outward. 

It was unbearable.

“If you wanted to hide, Omega, you should have used the water. I could track your scent from the other side of the forest when you’re like this.”

His voice surprised her. She hadn’t felt him approach at all. 

“I can’t…can’t anymore, Alpha.”

She couldn’t suppress a loud cry as another wave of heat hit her.

Malfoy tensed, his head shaking almost too quickly for her to notice. “Fuck, Granger. I didn’t realize how bad…” When she looked up, he was reaching for her. “Come here.”

She scrambled forward, burying her face into his neck as he pulled her into him. “I…I need…”

“I know.”

She landed on her back beneath him, his mouth on hers, his taste as drugging as before yet still not enough to ease any of her discomfort. Even his tongue licking hard against the sensitive side of her neck only made her burn hotter, the flames consuming her insides losing their reds and oranges to crueler shades of pale blue.

“Alpha,” she whined.

The current of his magic zipped along her body as their clothes vanished, his bare skin against hers finally offering the slightest cooling relief.

But it was nowhere near enough.

“Please…please, Alpha.”

“I know, Granger. I know. But I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Y-you won’t.” She pushed against him, fully aware he only backed off because he chose to. He kneeled above her and watched as she spread her thighs even wider. “Feel me.”

His jaw went slack as he did as she asked, and he slid the backs of two fingers through her center, pulling them away dripping with the insane amount of wetness he found there.

“Please.”

He gave in to her pleading, lining his cock above her and sinking in until he was fully inside, aided by the slickness of her cunt. 

Even with the raging heat, she’d never felt anything so good before. 

“Fuck,” he gritted, thrusting again without hesitation, “never felt anything like this before.”

“Alpha…” She didn’t even know what she was asking him for anymore.

He seemed to know though because he increased his pace, fucking into her with abandon. “You beg so pretty for me, Omega…Taking my cock like it’s meant for you…I know…I know you need it fast this first time…I’m here…Gonna fuck all the pain away for you…”

Her fingernails dug into his forearms hard enough she was sure she’d leave marks.

She was lost completely, her mind drifting somewhere other as the Omega gained full control. “I…I need your knot, Alpha…I’ll give you such a good home for it…keep it inside me as long as you want…”

He dropped more of his weight down on her.

“Fuck, Omega, I know you will…perfect, so perfect for me…Give you what you want…anything…”

His praise sent her into a state of awe.

And allowed her to relax for him, giving him room to move the slightest bit deeper. 

She lost herself in him, completely unaware of how long she’d writhed beneath him and finding she didn’t care.

He could fuck her forever if he wanted.

”That’s it, Omega.” His strained voice only made her middle twist tighter. “Let me make it better.”

She choked on a cry, her body seizing with a pleasure so intense it almost hurt as much as the heat, consuming her just as surely as it went on and on and on.

She trembled as his cock began swelling inside her, jerking as he bathed her cunt with his come, dousing the burn of the flames instantly and leaving her raw and exposed to the force of her orgasm.

It was like being altered morphologically.

Still locked inside her, he shifted her limp body, arranging her until he’d somehow managed to sit up while still cradling her in his lap.

She thought he might be talking, but she couldn’t make out the words.

He’d taken such good care of her. Just as he’d promised. 

Alpha. Her Alpha. 

He’d praised her, called her perfect. 

Said she could have…anything…

“Alpha,” she said, leaning back and meeting his eyes, “Alpha, I want your teeth.” She hissed as her own fingers traced the sensitive skin between her shoulder and neck. “Here.”

“Granger…”

She didn’t like the look of concern on his face. She wanted to make it go away. 

To make everything better.

“Please. Please bi—"

"Don’t.”

She flinched.

He pressed his head against hers. “If you ask me to bite you, I won’t be able to say no. You still owe me a favor, Granger. And this is what I want from you. Don’t ask me to do this when we don’t know what it could mean.”

Clarity snapped back into her mind, but it didn’t save her from disappointment. 

She nodded so she wouldn’t risk the embarrassment of him hearing her voice crack, his denial stinging far more than she knew it should have for the temporary arrangement they’d made. 

He was right. She didn’t know what it meant either. All she knew is she would do almost anything to get him to agree.

Accepting the refusal was painful. 

As if he understood, he soothed her by massaging the spot with his fingers, and it felt so good she relaxed into him, drifting peacefully until time no longer held meaning. 

She only realized she’d fallen asleep when he shifted beneath her, the knot at the base of his cock no longer too large to move, and the thought sent her into a burning panic.

She sat straight before he could try to pull himself free, and he cursed.

“Alph…Malfoy,” she choked out, “I think…I need more. Please. I’m sorry. I know you just…but it hurts. I’m sorry…I’m sor—”

“Shh. I’ve got you, Omega.” He rose up to slide his tongue against her neck, his cock growing long and hard inside her again. “I’ll give you more…as much as you need.”

“Alpha,” she breathed, “please.”

He tipped her face up to force her to look at him. “My Omega. Mine. I’ll keep giving you more.”

Chapter Text

The steady trickle of water woke her, and Hermione blinked, focusing in the dim light, finding herself half submerged in the blue-green glow of the pool.

A disturbing realization seized her lungs upon understanding she'd been brought from sleep by the feelings and sounds of something natural when far more alarming sensations were occurring, her body surrounded by the heat of someone holding her, the steady breathing against her sensitive neck, her legs draped over muscled thighs and spread wide to fit the big hand gently stroking between them, easing the biting stretch a little farther down.

It should have been unfamiliar.

Not nearly so comforting. 

So necessary.

The intensity of easy pleasure threatened to send her into madness.

“M-Malfoy?” She tried to clear the hoarseness in her throat.

“There she is,” he murmured, his forearm flexing against her wet stomach.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

“Keeping your fever down.”

Her head dropped to watch his slowly moving fingers as they slid over her clit. “Oh—you don’t have to—” 

But her protest lost effectiveness when she broke off on a whine.

He hushed her. “I want to. It helps you.”

She shifted, attempting to face him, only to be held down by his tightening grip. “Don’t. You can’t move yet.”

Right. His…knot. 

It was still locked inside her.

She wasn’t sure why she knew exactly what to describe it as, but she had no doubt. 

She vividly recalled begging for it over and over.

“Oh god. How many times—?”

His other hand cupped her breast, thumbing across her nipple until she was panting and arching against his touch. "I’ve been inside your cunt for hours, Granger. I’m not entirely sure how to quantify it. How much do you remember?”

Memories of what they'd done sent her back into the fire of neediness. "I…remember everything. It’s just, well…somewhat blurry at points." She gasped as his fingers increased pressure between her legs. "I'm g-going to assume this has never happened to you before either."

His soft laughter left her even more aroused and also more confused. "I may be an arse, but I'm not that terrible."

“How are you so calm about this?”

She felt the shrug of his shoulder. “I decided to focus on the benefits, to embrace my impulses. It seems to have brought clarity to us both. And since we're both of the right mind, we should probably seek assistance. Healers. Maybe a cursebreaker. Or..." he trailed off, "fuck...never mind."

"Wait—I'd like to hear the or..." She could feel his knot loosening, giving her freedom to cautiously grind her hips. "Please."

He bit out a curse, encouraging her movement with his hand. "We already made an agreement. Whatever this is doesn’t have to change that just because it's lasting longer than we anticipated. Unless you want—”

“No—no, no," she said, frantic. The thought of saying something that would change his mind about continuing set her into a blazing panic. “You’re right, we did agree."

"And that's what you need?"

She nodded quickly. "I don’t…I don’t want anything to change.”

Several seconds passed without him giving her a reaction, physical or verbal, and it almost sent the strange new Omega part of her into despair.

His touch resumed just quickly enough to keep her from wailing.

"I was able to convince you to drink some water, but you need to eat. Do you think we can go back now?"

She flushed, heat circulating in her veins. "I...maybe once more?" She bowed her head, tucking her face into his bicep, ashamed she had to admit how desperate and needy she was for him despite how many times he'd made her come already.

It seemed entirely impossible but no amount of reasoning convinced her body of such.

His knuckles brushed underneath her chin, leaving her chest missing his touch. He tipped her head back until their eyes could meet. "I told you I stopped fighting against it. If you want to keep fucking, you'll have to do the same."

Looking Malfoy in the eye while he was still inside her twisted her middle with an unwieldy combination of lust and embarrassment.

So much so that she had the urge to provoke him.

"I already did." Mouth parting, she ran her tongue across her exposed teeth. "Or have you forgotten which of us resisted bi—"

A hand flattened against her mouth, forcing her to cut off her intended word. "I swear to god, Granger," he growled into her ear, "Are you being purposefully difficult?"

Well if he wanted to make accusations...

Struggling against his grip, she scraped her teeth into his palm, softly biting into the flesh just below his thumb, her tongue gliding over the space right after.

She was on her knees in an instant.

"Don't test me, Omega." The hand covering her mouth dropped so he could brace himself on the rocks as he thrust into her from behind. "Did you consider it could be a mating mark?" He snarled the last word.

"We're not...oh god...animals." 

His tongue grazed directly onto the place between her shoulder and neck where she wanted his bite, and she nearly screamed.

And she would have come had he not wrenched away, pulling out of her and sending a warm rush of slickness down her exposed thighs and into the water. 

She turned around to find him dangerously tense, barely restrained, and eyeing her as if she had somehow brought about his downfall. 

Like he might demand she soothe his vengeance with her body.

Only she didn't find the prospect even slightly unappealing.

She stilled as he moved closer, his fingers dipping between her thighs once more, catching a generous amount of their combined fluids before he trailed his hand up her stomach, smearing it over her there, then up between her breasts, before finally resting the still noticeably soaked grip around her throat as he crowded her against the stones.

Her eyes rolled back, the heavy scent she'd come to associate as uniquely him filling her senses, making her delirious. 

Without thinking, she grabbed the hand at her neck and moved it to the side, to the throbbing place where his tongue had just been, and she nearly cried in relief when he took over, rubbing his come into the skin there, her entire body thrumming with satisfaction.

Malfoy cursed before sliding forcefully back inside her, picking up a pace that had them both unable to remain quiet. "Feels...fucking...animalistic."

Oh god...it really did.

More pressure against her overly sensitive skin effectively stole her ability to speak.

"Some magic creatures," he gritted, "they also...bond."

She sobered suddenly, her eyes opening wide to find she only had a view of his upper half, so close she could trace every barely visible scar crossing his skin.

As if Malfoy could sense her distress, he stopped moving, his chest heaving above her, and she wasn't sure if he was relieved or frustrated that she'd finally caught on.

Most magical creatures that engaged in mating bites formed bonds as well.

Mating bonds.

Lifelong ones.

She didn't know why she'd ignored the similarities before.

Allowing him to bite her without proof it would not complete a bond would be wildly irresponsible.

And the last thing Malfoy would want to do was tie himself to her indefinitely.

Contrary to what she'd thought in the moment, he hadn't wasted the favor she owed him at all. 

He'd saved himself.

From her.

She understood being upset was irrational.

Still, the reality of it burned, the Omega in the back of her mind curled into itself in horror.

She swallowed hard past the thickness in her throat. "I...I didn't think..."

"Clearly..."

His tone raised her hackles, and she couldn't decide if she wanted to beg him to move again or tell him to fuck off. "Well it isn't as if I'm doing it on purpose. It's probably some sort of...pureblood—"

"That's absurd...and you know it. It's as strong for you as it is me."

She bared her teeth, gritting out, "Is...not."

Keeping her tightly against him, he flipped them so that she was on top, straddling his hips and annoyingly giving her an unexplored angle to savor.

The position made it possible for him to bring their faces close, but he paused before touching her lips, his words dark and challenging, laced with an intoxicating undertone of lust. "Prove it, then, Granger. Drag yourself off my cock. Let's count how long it takes until you're drenched in slick and begging me to give you my knot again." 

She tried. 

She really did.

But his sinister smirk sealed her defeat. "Can't do it, can you?"

"No." She sulked, avoiding him by dipping her chin. "But if it's such a hardship, why don't you take yourself from inside me."

He caught her face in a large hand, forcing her to stare into the icy sear of his silver gaze. "I'd rather dive into this water and intentionally inhale."

"Oh..." Heart thrumming, she struggled to remain still.

"So now that we've established neither of us wish to stop, can we agree to keep fucking under the terms we already set?"

"Yes," she hissed, her frustration melting when Malfoy licked the acceptance from her mouth, making her moan and luring the Omega cautiously from the recesses of her mind.

Shoving the creature-like entity back again, Hermione gave a shallow roll of her hips. "May I?"

"Fucking christ, Granger. Yes...fuck yes."

The tingling of a protective charm danced along her knees as she found a rhythm, adjusting to his intimidating size more easily than should have been possible, his arms gathering her into him, somehow both possessive and liberating.

She rode him until she was shaking, determined to hold the new side of herself at bay, to not fall back into begging mindlessly to be knotted, instead wanting to draw their pleasure out to its limits.

He let her set the pace, matching her in kind when their deep and languorous meeting of mouths turned to nips and pulls, to a clashing of tongues and teeth.

It wasn't a blur.

It was crystalline and defined. 

An aqueous precipitation seeding inside the fissures of her psyche.

Luminous and poised to expand.

A symmetry his magic built upon with every touch.

The troubling thought struck her that maybe they weren't meant to be wholly cognizant of the experience.

With being altered chemically, organically, drugged by one another's scents, the slickness from her cunt so extensive it dripped in thick rivulets down between where her thighs met his waist, the debilitating hunger for her teeth to break his skin, for his to sink into hers, especially in the unfamiliar gland near the base of her neck, or how good it had felt each previous time, when his cock simultaneously soothed her hot insides and grew so thick he physically could not remove it from her.

She tightened around him at the thought, breaking their mouths apart on a breathless cry.

"Fuck...Omega."

She lost her restraint at his commanding tone calling to the Omega in her head.

"Alpha..." 

With her mind clouding, she buried her face into his neck, sucking hard just beneath his jaw, the noise it drew from him dragging her farther from reason. 

So much so she couldn't stop herself from grazing the muscle there with her teeth.

His fingers tangled into her curls, holding her tight against him. "Harder."

Unsure if he meant her teeth or her cunt, she opted for increasing pressure with both.

"Fuck, Omega," he growled. "So fucking perfect...Mine." 

She nodded frantically against him.

His magic sparked with possessiveness between them, the rawness of his voice lighting her nerves anew. "Look like mine...feel like mine...fucking smell like mine." His grip tightened in her hair. "You even fuck like you're mine."

Her Omega lit up with pride, the orgasm that had been steadily building slamming into her with breath-stealing force, her body thrown about in the wake of it.

Her vision swam as she lost her former self entirely.

"Knot—" she gasped, "Alpha, y-your knot. Please...please.

"It's been ready for you, Omega. Yours. Take it."

Her begging broke into whimpers as he swelled inside her, expanding the pressure right where she needed, her cunt no longer blazing but cooled and vibrating at a frequency of ecstasy she'd never known to exist, her entire being basking in its resonance.

He rocked her gently as she melted against him, smoothing her hair and rubbing her shoulders with his fingers.

She decided then to let go of foolish attempts to suppress the Omega inside of her.

It was probably for the best that way.

When Hermione regained wakefulness next, her memories were slightly less clear again.

And almost entirely sexual in nature.

Her legs wrapping around Malfoy as he lifted her onto the railing of their veranda.

Him bending her over their dining table and taking her from behind.

Him hand-feeding her while he toyed with her clit, whispering tempting promises of what he would do in exchange for her agreement to eat.

The two of them climbing into his bed so he could fulfill every single oath.

Her back flat against the wall as he fucked her under the shower spray.

Flashes of being shoved onto other walls, flat surfaces, the sofa, the floor.

More orgasms between them than she could count.

His touch, his tongue, his teeth, his cock, his knot...

And the praises and claims that wove throughout all of it. 

Recollecting was as bewildering as it was arousing, and she fought to keep her eyes closed, her breathing quiet, and her lower half still.

Because Malfoy was half crushing her, his knot throbbing in her cunt as though it had recently formed even though he was undeniably asleep.

But that wasn't why she couldn't bring herself to risk disturbing him. 

She didn't want him to move.

Because in his sleep, he'd coiled into her, wrapping one arm under her middle while the other wound tightly around her back, holding her to him by the shoulder, his palm splayed over the strange gland there while he subconsciously massaged what she knew by scent to be their combined come into her skin.

She wasn't sure how she knew, but the awareness that their time together had a definite expiration left a hollow feeling in her middle. 

So while she still could, she allowed his touch and the comforting weight of his body to lull her into rest once more.

Hermione shot up to a sitting position in bed, breathing in sharply.

"Malfoy—" She shook his shoulder a bit more enthusiastically than she intended, pulling his hand from underneath his pillow.

He rose on the opposite elbow, twisting towards her. "Christ...what is it, Granger?"

Her wide eyes met his half-closed ones as her anxiety grew. "The aurors."

He scrubbed a hand over his face. 

"A little late to be concerned for me. It's been six days since I ignored my portkey."

Six. Days.

"I—didn't realize."

"I hadn't either until just a short time ago. I believe you used the term blurry to describe your temporal misunderstandings from before."

"I'm experiencing it again now."

He hummed an agreement. "Think we've gotten whatever this was out of our systems?" He pressed the backs of his fingers to her cheek, easy, like he'd done it a hundred times. "No fever."

"I—maybe?" It was difficult to sort through all she was feeling.

"You've needed me less often. And your appetite is stabilizing. I could barely get you to chew at first."

Her face heated at the memory of him bribing her with sexual favors, and his satisfied smirk proved he knew exactly where her thoughts had gone.

"Where did you get food? I meant to tell you...my bag, I had enough for us both. Were you able to get past my extension charm?"

“Didn't have to. Someone sent us supplies.”

"Wha—who?"

"I'm not sure," His amusement did not help her regain composure. "I assume they were knowledgeable enough not to wait around for us to return."

An entire new layer of fear smothered her. "If that's the case, do you think they know what happened? What if it's some kind of spell? Who would do that? Especially to us?"

As if by habit alone, Malfoy reached to brush his palm from the base of her neck to her upper arm several times, calming her with each pass.

It seemed the new physiological response had yet to fade. 

Malfoy settled back onto the mattress, folding his hands behind his head. "If someone did cast a spell, I can't quite decide if I'd rather Avada them or send an elaborate gift of thanks."

She offered a conspiratorial smile. "We could always do both. Let them enjoy their final days spending a mountain of your galleons to ease our guilty consciences."

"Planning to become a fugitive with me?"

An affronted noise escaped her throat. "Please, we both know we wouldn't be caught."

Malfoy's laugh was warming. "You know, Granger, sometimes you make me think I could learn to like you.”

She rolled her eyes. "You're only saying that because you haven't had proper blood flow to your brain for days."

He sat back up. "And? You've been so fucking soaked you're likely delirious from dehydration."

"Yet I've retained sufficient mental acuity to recall how much you despise me."

"My mistake. I forgot the golden princess knows everything. That even when it comes to my own thoughts, if one is to be contested, it will be you who's trusted to distinguish between what's false and what is correct."

"I've never presumed to know what your thoughts are. And I seriously doubt I would ever wish to be enlightened to the extent I’d be able to make such judgments."

Absently, he reached for her shoulder again, but she snatched his wrist before he could touch her. 

He glared down at her. "Let go."

"You don't get to forcibly calm me whenever you wish."

"Granger..."

She ignored the command he'd infused into her name. "How would you like if I did the same to you?"

Fueled by righteous anger and possibly some of the dehydration he'd accused her of experiencing before, she ghosted her fingers over his own neck and shoulder.

She landed with her back against the bed, her wrists pinned on either side of her head as he pressed his body over hers. 

Frustration and need warred in his dark expression. 

So she arched towards his mouth, and he met her lips with his own, releasing her wrists in favor of running his hands over her.

"Once more?"

"Yes," she breathed, "god, yes."

They made matching groans of relief when his cock thrust deep inside.

He fucked her with agonizing slowness, almost like he was just as reluctant for it to end as she was.

And when she finally came, she did so with cries of his last name.

She didn't beg for his knot, and he came without allowing it deep enough to form inside her, instead sliding out of her completely, rolling to his side and gathering her back against his chest in a gesture that was terrifyingly intimate without the constant heat and desire to distract her.

The realization that it was over made her anxiety spike again, and she became painfully aware of the Omega in her mind trembling in the despair of rejection.

It was so torturous, she didn't mind when Malfoy brushed his lips along her aching gland to comfort her.

The Omega wailed, and when she felt the rapid increase of Malfoy's heartbeat, she wondered if his Alpha could hear it.

His mouth parted for him to lick roughly along the spot instead, his words spoken directly into her skin. "What if..."

She started shaking, knowing it was a foolish idea yet not finding the words to say so.

His tongue traced it again, and she couldn't keep herself from shifting to offer him a better angle, a hum of contentment building within her throat.

His teeth met her skin, not biting, but enough pressure against the overstimulated gland that she cried out.

"Ask."

The words were there. Poised on the tip of her tongue.

She wanted so badly to obey.

But she couldn't. 

Not like this. 

Without affording him time to learn what they were possibly committing to and allowing him the chance to consider every option.

She would give him time.

As much as it hurt to do it, she leaned away. “Malfoy, wait…stop.”

His touch disappeared as he moved, until he was off the bed entirely, and she turned just in time to see him stumble backwards.

He looked devastated by what he'd nearly allowed to happen.

"Fuck, Granger—I didn't—I'm sorry." Wand in hand, he summoned his sparse belongings.

"It...it's okay."

He dressed with his back to her. "It's not." 

Numb and still naked in his bed, she listened to his footsteps as he left through their cabin's front door.

Chapter Text

After being left alone, Hermione let the Omega in her mind wallow for a good twenty minutes, but after that, she shooed the dejected creature off and went about her day. 

She refused to allow anyone, least of all Malfoy, to interfere with the ever-growing list of things she wanted to accomplish. 

In the middle of packing her belongings—into a surprisingly cooperative beaded bag—a knock at the door interrupted her.

Spelling everything else she'd brought haphazardly inside and snapping the clasp, she set her shoulders and went to see who she'd have to deal with first after the disaster that had caused her to abandon the study she very much wanted to be a part of.

Her anger spiked as she opened the door, but it died just as quickly as soon as she identified her visitor. “Neville—god, I'm glad it's you." Sighing, she stepped from the frame. "Come on in.”

Neville made an odd face. “Ah…maybe we could speak out here.” He backed to the far side to prop himself against the railing.

She followed, leaning against the the front section. "How did Sprout react to my otter?"

"About as well as you'd suspect," he laughed.

"And how did the rest of the study go?"

"Disastrously. We made very little progress."

Before she could reply, a blur of red streaked from Neville's pocket, down his tall frame and across the wood until Hermione could feel familiar tiny feel climbing to settle in her palm. "Oh—hello there, friend. I'm sorry I was away for so long."

Scorch nuzzled into the side of the finger she'd lifted.

"Smart creatures, Fire-dwelling Salamanders. This one showed up not long after your patronus did. Insisted on coming along when I brought you food, too."

Silence stretched between them, and Scorch climbed to her shoulder, on the side that didn't have a new and completely unexplained feature.

Tense and uncomfortable, Neville refused to acknowledge her unspoken questions.

Guess he wanted to choose the path of difficulty.

"Explain," she demanded. "Now."

His response wasn't defensive, only resigned. "I'm an Alpha. The first wizard to undergo the change as far as we know. And Theo, well, he's my Omega."

"You both knew about me being one as well?"

"At my party, when you weren't feeling well and complaining about your temperature charms at work, that was how Theo's first heat began as well. Add in your accidental magic and it seemed the likely reason."

"If you suspected I was going through the same occurrence you knew Theo went through, why on earth would you leave me with Malfoy?"

"Did he do something to hurt you?" She'd never seen him look so dangerous, not even during the literal battle they'd once fought in together.

"No, of course not. He was..." She crossed her arms and pulled in on herself. "More rational than I was for most of it."

“I think it's possible I allowed my trust in Theo to overshadow how much we're still unsure of in all of this. He believes there are certain biological processes that we can't override. Ones that will hold true for everyone, and since you are the Omega, you would be able to choose your Alpha. I guess I...well I think we were so shocked that you would choose him, we didn't consider it might not work the same way for you. Fuck, Hermione, I'm so sorry—"

"I...no, you didn't do anything wrong. I...guess I did choose him. I mean I was the one who..." She couldn't make herself finish her statement.

"The group that was stunned, I had suspicions before, but we were able to confirm they are all Alphas as well. I'm not defending them, but it explains their poor behavior. You didn't feel anything towards any of them?"

"Nothing except fear and frustration.” She didn’t want to dwell too much on what that meant. “They practically surrounded me. And threatened to stun me."

“You, well I know it wasn’t intentional, but your Omega called to their Alphas."

"What happened to them?"

"I took care of it. I assume it was Malfoy's doing?"

"He was trying to protect me. You didn't contact the aurors, did you?”

“No. That's sort of why I'm here. More people have been changing. If the ministry went after every person who’s done something similar in the last few days, they’d have to arrest a third of the wizarding population.”

“Why is this happening?”

“I’d like to let Theo explain, if you don’t mind. He’s been the one to figure it all out, we think. He’s quite brilliant.”

She smiled at his obvious pride. "I need to speak with the centaurs first."

Hermione and Neville's conversation stalled until they reached the same meadow they'd gone to the first day she’d arrived in the Forbidden Forest, when he'd shown her the Alpha tribe members. 

A group of the half-horse beings had gathered to meet them thanks to Neville sending a message ahead.

She recognized them all.

They were whispering much too loudly to keep all of their words secret, and she caught several.

"...she brings a salamander..."

Hermione looked down at Scorch and smiled when she found the tiny dragon raised defensively.

"...confirmation..."

A few of the centaurs breathed deeply into the breeze.

"...mother..."

Hermione snorted.

Some great seer that one was.

She would have felt guilty about the mean thought. But she refused to when they're the one who said their comment aloud and were assuming a very wrong, very impossible idea about her near future.

"Hermione Granger." Maia stepped around her younger members, smiling brightly. "You look well." Before Hermione could think of how to respond, the woman leveled a meaningful look to her shoulder. "You may go, now. Thank you for your help."

Much to Hermione's surprise, Scorch scampered down to the grass and after a gentle nudge to the burned mark on her shoe, disappeared into the forest.

"Bye," she whispered, her eyes stinging a bit in the wind.

"Is there something the two of you seek from us?"

Neville looked to her, and she nodded. “I need to know more about your prophecies."

"We've shared more than is typical."

"I know, and we are grateful, truly, but..."

“We do not interfere with human affairs."

"Yet nearly everyone here has been altered. And others in the wizarding community as well."

"That this change occurred while you were here is no fault of ours."

Hermione forced herself to breathe slowly. "I'm not eager to place blame. I want to know if you had prior knowledge. Or if you can share more."

“You of all humans should know it’s foolish to hate those who give information, no matter how much you wish not to hear the truth that’s been given. This is not something another being has forced upon you. It is your divine right, a gift from your magic, from your own power within you. That is all I will say. You have access to the answers you seek already.” She turned back to the others. “Everyone, go home.”

They all, including Maia, galloped towards the opposite tree line.

But one lagged behind the others, splitting off from the group and turning sharply.

"Aite will tell you more," Neville said, walking north, clearly having met with the bay bodied woman similarly in the past. "She's been helping us for a while."

The centaur trotted to a stop in front of them before they'd even gone the distance of one of their study's grid squares.

"I don't have much time, but I needed to see for myself."

Hermione and Neville shared a confused look. 

Without warning, Aite reached for the neckline of Hermione's jumper and roughly shoved it down, exposing several dark marks on her skin that she knew to be there.

Aite stamped her hooves. “Your Alpha, he didn’t bite you?” She asked, her frustration as clear as it was unwarranted. 

Hermione bristled, backing away and yanking her clothing back into place. “Why does it matter?”

Aite turned to Neville. "You haven't told her?"

"Told me what?"

Neville looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. “It’s…not just a mating bite. It’s a bond. As far as Theo and I know, it’s unbreakable.”

Well, that vindicated her decision to stop Malfoy from biting her. 

And his decision to refuse for so long before that.

She couldn't help the relief that washed over her at how they'd nearly forced one another into a situation neither of them were ready for. 

She nearly broke into a nervous laugh. 

That neither of them wanted at all.

"It's alright, Hermione," Neville said. "I don't know how he managed, but if he didn't bite you, you're free."

"It is not alright." Aite's raised voice made them both flinch and return their attention to her. "You must find your true Alpha. The celestial bodies are not patient in this. If you fail to complete the mating bond with the one we've been shown in the prophecies, the damage will continue. Nature demands a price for so much destruction.”

“A price?” Neville asked, his stance losing its casualness.

“Balance. Brought by you." She pointed at Hermione, not giving them a chance to speak as she continued. "So much life lost. The reversal requires creation.”

Hermione's vision blurred. 

She swore she could feel her magic crackling in outrage.

She looked up at the centaur with every scrap of ire she possessed. “I won’t be creating anything.”

Not able to stomach any more, Hermione stormed off and only a few moments later, she was joined by Neville.

"She isn't usually like that," he said.

"No, I expect not. Until you're the object of a meaningless prophecy."

"Yeah." 

Hermione slowed enough to see the sadness in his expression. “You know, I’m not expected back at the ministry for another day. I’d still like to see the research you and Theo have collected so far.”

He smiled a little. "He's in Hogsmeade waiting for us. He supposedly followed after Malfoy earlier, but he didn't have high expectations of getting him to stick around."

Smart, she thought. 

Still her middle twisted itself into an uncomfortable tangle at the slim prospect.

As soon as they entered The Three Broomsticks, Theo greeted her with a crushing hug. "You're here."

"I told you she'd want to know more," Neville said mildly. “How did it go for you?”

“As well as I expected. Arsehole wouldn’t even talk to me.”

They took their seats, ordering before they broached the topic they all knew needed to be discussed.

Once they were all set and a privacy charm had been performed, Theo was the first to speak. "How much has Nev filled you in on?"

"Not a lot. Names for what we are. And the...mating bonds. But what I'm most interested in is the reason for all of it. What’s your most promising theory so far?”

“It's going to sound a bit outlandish at first. And Neville deserves as much credit as I do. He's the only reason I got the idea.”

Neville scoffed. “Is this part relevant?”

Grinning mischievously, Theo patted Neville's hand before weaving their fingers together on top of the table. “It wasn’t his fault. With all the shortages, we’ve had to become more creative in our sourcing of greenhouse supplies. He ordered grasshoppers to feed the school’s crop of fanged geranium and accidentally ended up with a species from the acrididae family.”

Hermione covered her mouth with her hand, eyes going wide.

“As you’ve clearly realized already, he didn’t understand the purpose of keeping them magically separated as they had been in transit.”

“No,” she drew out the word.

Theo chuckled while Neville fought to keep a neutral expression. “Took us three days to clear the locust swarm, and while we lost a good many plants, the incident naturally led me to research deeper into phenotypic plasticity."

Amusement at their entomological fiasco faded into excitement over the new understanding.

"Oh…that's brilliant, Theo. You believe it to be density-dependent as well? Though obviously, in our case, because of a decrease in population rather than an increase."

"Yes, exactly.“ Theo beamed.

"And it would fit with our...erm, my theory about magic seeking balance. The war wreaked havoc on wizarding society. It’s logical to conclude magic wielding humans would possess biological coping strategies to prevent extinction."

Which was the very thing Aite had implied.

Hermione's whole body revolted. "For the record, I’m no longer thrilled by the new knowledge due to it giving me the urge to vomit.”

“The idea of magic altering our behavior and physiology just to coerce us into breeding does leave quite a sour taste for me as well. But you can read the data from experiments I’ve done to support my hypothesis, if you can overlook our unfortunately small sample size.”

“Well you’ve just gained one more test subject. As long as it doesn't involve any more talks with centaurs,” she grumbled.

Theo dropped his hand from Neville's, looking over to him suddenly, the hurt in his expression clear. 

"She asked," Neville said, his defensiveness noticeable. 

“Why don’t you tell her what else we’ve learned.”

Neville sighed, looking back at her from across the table. "You were right from the start. About Pomona using you to watch Malfoy. She wanted it to end badly so she could dismiss him. When neither of you behaved as she'd expected, she told everyone he used dark magic to weaken you."

Even knowing the truth of it already, the confirmation boiled her blood. "Why did she leave him be when he missed his portkey?"

Neville relaxed a little. “That was actually Theo’s doing.”

Theo grinned. “I reminded her of a certain set of skills I developed while left to fend for myself despite how many times I sought help from our professors. And that I have no moral code against using such skills when it comes to protecting those I care about.”

She wished she could have seen that conversation. "I guess I got the wrong impression about you two no longer being friends."

"We have an ongoing disagreement, but I still want what's best for him. Speaking of which..." Theo raised his brows, giving her a meaningful look, his eyes gleaming.

"Oh, no. No no no,” she laughed. “I’m not talking about my experience this week until I have time to process it for myself. And until after I’m up to date on what you’ve discovered so far.”

Theo summoned a stack of books and parchments, covering every clear space on their table. “I hope you have a few hours free.”

It turned out, she’d had more than a few free hours. And it was a good thing too because it took more than a few for her to go through all of Theo’s research. 

It was dark by the time they all three left the pub, and they exchanged goodbyes as Neville searched his pockets for the portkey he’d gotten for her.

"We'll still come see you next week. Let us know if we can help you with anything before then."

Hermione leveled a secretive smile at Theo.

"Actually, I do have one more thing I need to ask you both before I go."

The next three days were like being thrown forcibly back in time, only Hermione didn't feel as she had only two weeks ago.

It felt more like a year. 

Back when her life ran smoothly, no bad luck or odd reactions in her body. 

Physically, she felt fantastic. Better than she had in a long while. 

Her mind, however, was operating in a nearly catatonic state just to survive.

Despite the mutually agreed upon severance of contact between Malfoy and herself, the distance felt annoyingly strange.

Three days had passed without any sight or word from him.

But her memories? They weren't so devoid.

Because the time they had spent together? Well, it wasn't exactly something one forgot about easily.

So instead of going about her day with embarrassing flashes of Malfoy and the week they'd spent together, she'd sort of just flipped the switch to autopilot mode, refusing to think of much of anything.

It had worked for the most part. And with most people.

Unfortunately, Ginny Weasley was not most people.

And she'd been eyeing Hermione suspiciously since she'd arrived to the Potter residence for Ginny's small birthday celebration.

Most of the guests had already left, knowing Ginny's strength was low and wanting to give her time to rest, leaving her in the company of only those closest to her. 

Harry and Ron were playing a game of wizards’s chess, Hermione was pretending to read a book while keeping her mind empty, and Ginny was flipping through the newest copy of Witch Weekly.

"You've been oddly quiet today, Hermione." Ginny shot her a knowing look.

They'd barely discussed the changes some people in their society had gone through, and Hermione didn't know how to bring up the fact that she'd been among them.

Not wanting to hold her friend's scrutinizing gaze for long, Hermione gestured towards the magazine. "Anything interesting?"

Ginny hummed, her eyes flashing with delight. "They've got multiple articles speculating on people who've been changed this past week. Here's one on Cormac." She flipped through several pages. "Lavender...Luna did an interview...Zacharias Smith...Ernie McMillan...Padma and Parvati...oh—"

Ginny squealed. 

And then groaned lewdly enough to draw everyone’s attention. “Listen to what they wrote for this one. Recently discovered Alpha and former Death Eater Draco Malfoy publicly renounces bachelor status in scandalous fashion.”

Hermione’s stomach plummeted.

Still staring at the pages, and grinning maniacally, Ginny went on.“There's a photo of him with teeth marks on his neck, not a hint of a glamour in sight.”

“Who cares?” Ron asked, his disgust evident.

“I certainly do,” Ginny shot back. “Cowards. If they’d been brave enough to interview him, we’d know who he’s staking his claim on.”

Staking his claim?

Seemed like the opposite to her. 

Because sure, Malfoy had left marks of his own on her body, but he hadn't been stupid enough to leave them where people were likely to see. 

The idea that him choosing to leave her mark on him visible would mean Malfoy was claiming her should have helped, but it really didn’t. Not when Hermione knew he hadn’t truly done such a thing. And he wouldn’t. “Maybe he just forgot.”

Ginny flipped the magazine down violently, staring at her aghast. “And they call you bright. No one is going to forget that. God, I would commit crimes to know what the sex was like.”

Hermione choked on her tea.

"You're ridiculous,” Harry laughed, the fondness in his expression making it clear that he loved Ginny all the more for it.

Ron, however, was not so amused. "How can you say things like that after all Malfoy’s done?"

"Because quidditch thighs cover a multitude of transgressions.” Ginny smiled wickedly at her husband. “Right, Harry?"

Harry smirked, hiding it behind a sip from his cup. “So I’ve been told.”

Ron made another noise of disgust. "Hermione, please talk some sense into her. I'm fairly certain he's fooled everyone into believing he's not evil when he clearly is.”

"If that were true, there would be more than a handful of people who didn't still hate him. We went to his trial. We all heard the same information. If I can forgive him for doing what he had to in order to survive, surely you can as well."

"Nope. Can't. Won't do it." Ron raised his wand, shooting a burst of red towards Ginny's magazine, which vanished in a cloud of dark smoke.

Harry was at his wife’s side in an instant, his own wand raised as he produced a shield around her. “What the fuck did you do that for?”

“It’s fine,” Ginny said, not phased in the slightest. “You can pick up another copy for me in a bit,” She turned and winked at Hermione. “Actually, better make that two copies.”

Hermione had left not long after, though it was long enough that she did indeed go home with a glossy current edition of the magical world's version of a gossip reel.

She threw it on her bedside table with the intention of tossing it later on.

Just as she was getting ready for bed, tapping on her window startled her, and she opened it to find an owl she'd never seen before.

The large eagle owl dropped its package, and without waiting for a reply or even a treat, it took to the sky once more.

She unwrapped the package, excitement growing when she revealed a rare and likely very valuable book.

She flipped open the small card expecting to see Theo's small neat handwriting.

But that wasn't what she found.

Instead, she read the words written in a familiar elegant script.

Before you get the wrong idea, I'm only lending it. Try not to char the binding or rip any pages with that bad luck of yours.

DLM

Her mind wasn't so empty anymore.

Chapter Text

Hermione accidentally replied to Malfoy's message a week later. 

And it truly was an accident. 

One brought on by too many nights of only a handful of hours worth of sleep and the equivalent of an extra full-time job added to her workload. 

With the light of dawn filtering in through her kitchen window, she had finally reached the bottom of her enormous stack of correspondence, penning a reply and handing it off to her owl before she'd even realized what she'd done.

By the time she'd caught on to the error, it was too late. 

Dazedly, she repeated the words of the note to herself for the thousandth time.

You’ll be happy to hear my bad luck seems, at least temporarily, to be cured. Your book is safe with me.

It wasn't too terrible. 

Just a quick reassurance of the proper care of his reading materials. 

Something he would glance at before tossing it straight into the rubbish bin and hopefully understand she didn't mean to open the lines of communication when he'd been clear it wasn't what he wanted.

What she’d assured him wasn’t what she wanted either.

It was an honest mistake.

Still, it left her with frenetic nervousness and a predisposition to panicking the rest of the morning, and the hour and a half of sleep she'd managed was not making things easier.

So when someone knocked on her office door around lunchtime, she nearly jumped out of her chair despite fully expecting to have guests. 

She dropped her wards, allowing Theo to enter with Neville following close behind him.

"Let me finish this up, and we can go," she told them, scribbling down some notes she hoped she could decipher later.

"No rush," Theo said, grinning. "I enjoy a good opportunity to meddle."

He lifted something from her expanse of shelves filled with artifacts and oddities and scientific objects. She didn't know exactly what he'd chosen but it came from the shelf holding her collection of mesozoic era insect fossil fragments.

She laughed, glancing at him every so often to see what caught his interest. "Please share any insight from your discoveries."

He replaced his current item and moved on, this time crouching next to an extremely detailed model of the Cassini spacecraft she'd charmed to rotate in midair.

"Nice charmwork. You know, your office reminds me of somewhere else I’ve been," he said. "I think you'd like it there."

She hummed, focused mostly on her papers. "Maybe after the months it's going to take to sort out this project, you can celebrate with me by taking me to see it." 

"I would be absolutely delighted to." 

The humor in his voice caught her attention. And not in a good way. She wasn't sure she wanted to know where he intended to take her. If she had to guess, it was probably some hidden trade market of questionable legality, and he was far too excited about the prospect of watching her wrestle internally over whether to participate or report the operation.

From previous experience, she knew it could go either way.

Hermione finally felt satisfied with the progress of her notes.

Tossing her pen down, she got to her feet. "Alright, I'm done."

Theo made a disappointed noise.

Neville chuckled, holding the door open. "Come on, love. I think you've meddled quite enough."

The restaurant they'd chosen for their long lunch was crowded.

Even so, it didn't take long for their food to arrive, and Hermione took the time to catch up on the two professors' preparations for the upcoming school term. 

They talked of her recent aspirations in return. 

Hermione had held herself back as long as she could but as soon as they'd all finished eating, she couldn't stand it anymore. 

She had to voice what had been nagging at her since they'd spoken in Hogsmeade.

Taking out her wand, she cast a silencing charm around them. 

"Finally." Theo grinned. "On to the good part."

Hermione and Neville exchanged a matching look of endearment mixed with exasperation. 

"I realize this is a...well, I know it's a highly personal matter, but would you mind telling me about when..." She took a calming breath and then rushed through what she needed to say. "About your mating bite?"

Theo shrugged easily, but his smugness would be noticeable from across the room. "There's not much to tell. Happened not ten minutes into my first heat. I asked him to and he did."

She sipped from her water to ease the sudden tightness in her throat. "Right. Yeah. That...makes sense." 

Theo went on while Neville eyed her curiously. "If you're wondering why Draco didn't, I don't think it would be fair for you to take it personally."

She didn't. 

Really. 

She was only collecting information.

They were the only two who knew what happened between her and Malfoy, the only two who could give any sort of guidance at all.

"I tried to ask," she said, hoping it emerged as a simple recitation of facts. "He stopped me before I could."

Neville's curiosity must have gotten the better of him because he leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table in front of him. "Would you rather he had let you?"

A chill ghosted from her hairline to her chest. "I...of course not...it just seems, with your research and experience, that he shouldn't have been able to resist it. It's an outlying data point. One we need to account for."

Theo turned serious. "He's still refusing to speak to me about it, but I think it can be explained by his past. Draco was the only one among us they gave the dark mark to. He's got a justifiable reason to be wary of magically linking himself to anyone else."

"I didn't think of that."

And, honestly, she should have.

"It is interesting though," Neville said. "According to what we've found so far, you shouldn't have been able to resist asking for his bite either. Maybe we have it wrong. That it's only a compulsion when it's your true mate." She didn't miss the way Theo cut his eyes. "I'd feel a whole lot better about all this if that's the case."

"Yeah...I—me too," she said. It was far better than the alternative. "But that still leaves me with a different source of anxiety. I feel like I'm on constant alert already. Of the possibility that some Alpha I don't know or have any interest in could appear any moment claiming I belong to them."

Neville shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think you have to worry about that for a while."

"Why not?" She asked, not confident she wanted to know the answer.

His apprehension clear, Neville explained. "I didn't mention it at first because I thought my sensitivity could be because of already having my mate. But I've noticed six Alphas...assessing...you since we sat down. They aren't going to approach you for a while."

"I don't understand." 

The Alphas in the forest didn't seem to have any issues being near her.

"Well..." Neville grimaced.

Theo stifled his laughter behind a fist before taking pity on the man beside him. "What he's trying to say is, Draco might as well have stamped a glaring 'she's taken' across your forehead." Obviously realizing she still didn't understand, he went on. "Neville can smell him all over you. Strong enough it covers your own pheromones. It makes it pretty clear what you were up to two weeks ago." His smile turned devious. "Speaking of which, he still refuses to go into that cabin. Not sure what happened in there but I can tell you I'm thoroughly impressed."

She was fairly sure she turned a burning shade of scarlet. For so many reasons. "So other Alphas, they will all know Malfoy and I..."

Thankfully, Theo took pity on her as well. "They'll know you and someone did, but they'll only know who if they're familiar with his scent, which I assume few people are."

"Well, that's embarrassing." She shot Theo an accusing glare. "And wasn't included in your research."

He put his hands up in a show of non-hostility. "We didn't know about it yet."

"We should plan on, erm, checking periodically to make sure you're still protected," Neville broke in, concern and worry prominent on his face. "Have you thought about what you'll do for your next one?"

She knew exactly what he referred to, but even speaking in generalized terms didn't keep her pulse from imitating the rate it reached while sprinting. "I have a healer appointment to discuss some ideas I have for potions to suppress it."

She had to turn away from the scrutiny in Neville's gaze. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

"I know I don't want to go through it again." 

Not with anyone else, the faint voice in the back of her mind unhelpfully supplied.

Damn Omega.

"Besides, I have too much to do to miss a whole week because of...that."

Obviously realizing she'd had all she could stomach, Theo steered them towards easier topics of conversation. 

Not long after, Neville excused himself to speak with a fellow herbologists he'd noticed at the bar, leaving Hermione and Theo to themselves.

But with Neville engaged elsewhere, Theo's light-hearted nature slipped.

"Is everything alright?" She asked him gently.

Theo’s focus never wavered from Neville. "He looks tired, doesn't he? Pomona hasn't forgiven him for helping the centaurs protect you and Draco, and she's working him extra because of it."

Now that he mentioned it, Neville did seem a little off. "I don't know how he can stand it. I didn't last as her subordinate for more than a week."

"He has a bad habit of trusting the wrong people. I think, maybe he does it on purpose. Not because he doesn't see through their intentions, but he keeps giving them chance after chance to prove themselves. Too many chances, if you ask me.”

"That's why you got upset about us speaking to the centaurs. Which really was my fault," she rushed out.

"We talked about it and worked through it. Besides, I get along with most of them. Just not all." His easygoing demeanor vanished entirely. "He told me what Aite did to you."

She shrugged, annoyed, sure, but not allowing it to keep bothering her. "It's nothing I'm not used to. I won't let it get in the way of what I want."

He smiled sadly, his eyes on the man he undeniably cared a great deal for. "Think you could help him learn how to do that too?"

She wasn't sure she could, but it did plant an idea in her mind.

A few days later, Hermione came home from a long day at the ministry, exhausted and already half asleep, only to be ambushed in her own kitchen.

Ginny sat on a barstool, sipping from a steaming mug, a copy of the Daily Prophet spread in front of her.

On a page that included individual photographs of Sprout, Neville, Ernie, Zacharias, her...

And Malfoy.

"Would you care to explain why I received messages about trees and bloody fungus during your trip when you could have told me about this?" She screeched the last word, her finger jabbing the photo of a certain pale blond wizard while she glared at Hermione accusingly.

"I..."

Fuck.

"No, I changed my mind." Ginny crossed her arms, turning away in an exaggerated act of someone who’d been grievously betrayed. "I don't want to hear it since you clearly have no respect for our friendship."

Hermione sat next to her, unable to keep her eyes from drifting to the evidence in question. "You're being dramatic."

"Am I?" Ginny turned back, her sly grin letting Hermione know she'd been caught looking so she averted her gaze from the newspaper entirely. "At least tell me you spoke to him. Or if the photos are an accurate representation or not."

Hermione groaned, pleading silently with her friend to give her some leniency. "They aren't. Not at all."

Ginny's disappointment was almost comical.

Hermione folded her arms onto the counter and rested her head on them. "In person he looks even better."

"Oh my god I knew it. Is he still a complete arse?"

Giving Ginny a bland look, she nodded. "Of course he is."

This development apparently delighted her friend. "Details, witch. I need all the details."

Despite finding herself dying to confide the truth of what all had occurred, she realized she couldn't. 

She'd promised to act as if it never happened.

And she wouldn't be the one to break it that promise.

Especially when it didn’t matter anyway.

So she attempted to deflect instead. "Should Harry be worried about this obsession of yours?"

Ginny shot her a pitying look. "I don't want him for myself. I want him for you. At the very least you could get few good orgasms out of it. Really, Hermione, this thing you have for him is getting a bit sad if you never act on it. And judging by the recent photos, you're running out of time."

An outraged noise left her throat. "I don't have a thing. I just...like looking at him."

"You'd think someone so particular and clever wouldn't be such a shite liar. Your face is redder than my hair."

She needed a distraction.

For Ginny and for herself.

Quickly.

Unfortunately, there was only one fact Hermione could think of that would overshadow their current topic.

"It wouldn't matter even if you were right. I'm sort of going through enough at the moment."

Ginny instantly transformed, all her humor shifting into concern. "What's wrong?"

She groaned, her pleading coming out more like a whine. "You can't tell anyone. Please promise me you won't."

"You're scaring me. Are you al—"

"I'm an Omega."

"I—oh god, Hermione, I'm so sorry. I didn't know..."

"I know...it's fine. It's just been a bit much to get used to. I’ve been trying to get some time alone to tell you. I’m not ready for the boys to know just yet."

"And I'm here having fun at your expense. What can I do to help?"

She swatted at the moisture stinging her eyes, the confession added on to her sleep deprivation and causing her emotions to run wild. "Want to watch a movie with me?"

The two of them were soon huddled together in her living room laughing through a romantic comedy first before Ginny put on a long theatric version of one of Hermione's favorite novels, earning a tearful hug in the process. 

After several assurances to the contrary, Ginny had admitted to being tired so Hermione was surprised when she woke still curled up on the sofa a few hours later to an empty home and a blanket Ginny must have covered her with.

A quick spell let her know it was long past midnight.

So when a tap at her window made her nearly jump from her seat, she was well within her rights to be startled.

She opened it to find the same eagle owl from before. 

Only this time, it didn't leave. 

She tore open the letter it had brought, reading it where she stood.

My magic is back to normal, too. Any thoughts on why that is?

Still half asleep, she only debated for a moment before summoning supplies and writing out her reply.

I'm hoping your book has some answers. Translating it has been an absolute bitch though.

She made herself a cup of tea while she waited, feeling absolutely insane since she hadn't even asked a question to be replied to.

But after only a short time, the owl was tapping for her attention again. 

Which is why I pawned it off on you. 

Hermione couldn't hold back her laugh as she wrote back again.

Arse. Would you like a copy of my notes when I'm done?

And not long after, she received another note.

Yes. 

His single word reply finally jolted her out of the ridiculous realization she'd been owling Malfoy. And that she desperately needed to go to bed.

After sipping her way to the bottom of the second cup of tea she had brewed just as she'd accepted his last missive, she was startled again by another tap against the once again closed glass.

Her fingers shook as she unrolled the parchment, obviously from too much late night caffeine.

I'll owe you this time.

She didn't bother getting her own paper, writing directly beneath his own words instead.

Owe me what?

She gave his owl a few treats and promised his return trip would be the last for the night. It allowed a scratch beneath its beak in what she interpreted as gratitude.

When the owl returned, she was standing so close to the open window, it didn't need to tap, and she offered another affectionate brush of her fingers, thanked it, and watched it fly until she could no longer make out its wings in the dim sky.

She finally turned back to Malfoy's letter, finding it wrinkled in her hands so that it took several tries to flatten it back out.

The words staring back at her weren't at all what she had expected.

Whatever you want, Granger.

She didn't sleep the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

I know what I want.

Hermione had decided within about sixty seconds of Malfoy’s message what favor she wanted to ask of him, but since she’d already sent his owl on its way for the night, she had waited until the next morning to pen her vague reply. 

Afterwards, she’d settled onto her kitchen barstool to spend her Saturday working on her current obsession.

It took a shorter time than seemed possible for her owl to return with a tightly rolled message.

And I thought you’d learned to suppress your unfortunate predisposition towards impulsivity. Did you even think through all of your available options?

She could hear the sneer in his words. But she was too focused on her own goals to address it.

I want to be able to borrow any of your books. No restrictions.

His returned letter included a sizable ink blot he hadn’t bothered to vanish.

You’ll have to excuse me while I take time to recover from the debilitating hit to my ego. I should have predicted this outcome.

She laughed, unable to keep herself from feeling a bit smug as she wrote one last note.

You really should have. I’m compiling a list. I’ll send you what I need so you can let me know if you have them. 

And because she wasn’t a complete bitch, she added,

Thank you, Malfoy.

Finished with the task of gaining access to books from one of the oldest and most exclusive libraries in the wizarding community, Hermione enjoyed a moment of rest before she had to return to her never-ending to-do list.

Fixing her beaded bag, which was tossed into a corner in her bedroom, was one of the things that still needed to be done, but its priority had kept falling down her magically ordered column of items.

She would get to it eventually.

Ginny had left the Daily Prophet—no longer open to the offending section—on Hermione’s counter, and she reached for it before she could even process how bad of an idea it was.

Impulsive indeed.

Telling herself she’d only skim the article to keep up with the accusations and rumors circulating, she flipped to the page of familiar photos.

Of course, her eyes betrayed her, landing on Malfoy’s image before anything else.

It was a lengthy betrayal.

One that had her heart racing and her middle hollowing and her mind flashing with burning memories she’d been desperately trying to lock away. 

The article itself was fairly benign, an informative few paragraphs about the field study and who’d attended, with brief details of what little they’d accomplished.

A quote from Sprout blamed the timing of the changes to so many’s biology for the ineptitude. 

Which she guessed was fair to an extent.

It would have been a harmless news piece.

If not for the final line promising an exclusive follow-up interview from one of the attending researchers, alluding teasingly to scandal and potential foul-play.

She groaned.

Then she added media damage control to her already too-long list.

The new words promptly shifted to the top.

St. Mungo’s was more crowded than she’d ever seen it, so much so that after she’d checked-in with the appropriate staff, she struggled to find a place to sit in the waiting room.

After her conversation with Neville and Theo, she’d been hyperaware of other people’s assessments of her, and she couldn’t quell the anxiety she felt at realizing some in the space were likely Alphas.

She kept her head down, focusing on her borrowed book to prevent any embarrassing moments of visual confirmation. 

Reading kept her occupied until a wizard’s name was called and the opened door leading to the examination rooms revealed a pair in a not-so-peaceful stand off. 

One of them wore healer robes and was receiving a frigid scolding from a worryingly frail Pansy Parkinson.

Or Pansy Zabini, she amended to herself.

Luckily, the elderly wizard en route had only made it a third across the waiting room so Hermione was able to observe.

After waiting for Pansy to finish, the woman shook her head. “Don’t you have healers at home whose job it is to care for you?”

“I do,” Pansy snapped. “But today I’d like to be seen here. Is it not also your job to care for ill patients?”

The other witch shuffled her feet. “Well, yes, but…I think it would be best if you would depend upon more inconspicuous services. I can almost guarantee they’ll treat you more competently.”

“And why is that?”

Because of her location, Hermione could still hear after the witch lowered her voice. “I can’t force my staff to overlook your…past.”

Hermione had heard enough.

She made it through the open door before the patient it was held for did, but she didn’t stop to explain her intrusion. Instead, she joined the two people still arguing further down. 

Holding a finger up to request Pansy pause her current statement—beyond surprised when the witch listened—Hermione addressed the healer with a cold accusation. “Are you suggesting she’ll be mistreated by medical professionals who should value health over their own prejudices?”

“I—of course not…” The woman’s tone softened, but the change only served to stoke Hermione’s ire.

“Because I have far too much to do to champion an investigation into the care here, but I promise you I will find the time if it becomes clear that it’s necessary. Do you have a room for Mrs. Zabini or not?”

The witch sighed, but she did motion towards a place for Pansy to wait for her own appointment before leaving the two of them alone in the hallway.

“Granger,” Pansy flashed a very Slytherin smile at her. “Excellent timing.”

Unnerved, she started the way she’d come, but she turned back just before she reached the door, forcing strength into her voice. “Let me know if they treat you poorly. I meant what I said.”

“I’ll remember that,” Pansy said, tucking her sleek black hair behind her ear.

With a tight-lipped smile, Hermione turned to make her escape.

She caught his scent before she saw him.

So she at least had a half-second to prepare herself for when the door opened to reveal Malfoy and an equally imposing Blaise Zabini walking in beside him.

Zabini went straight to his wife.

But Malfoy paused beside her, the expression he wore making her feel as if his need to inspect every part of her body for signs of injury was anything but voluntary.

“I’m fine,” she said, daring him to pry into her healthcare decisions.

Malfoy nodded once. “Just making sure you were being honest about no longer being a risk to yourself, Granger.” 

He smirked before following in Blaise’s footsteps.

Hermione knew she should leave for the waiting room as she had planned. But Pansy’s not so subtle glances in her direction while the three engaged in a hushed argument grabbed onto her curiosity and wouldn’t allow her to go.

Too bad one of them had thought to set a silencing charm.

Deciding it was none of her concern, she attempted to leave once more, only to be intercepted by Theo coming in as the others had.

“Oh—Hermione,” he said, “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I have an appointment. You’re here for Pansy, too, I assume?”

“Blaise sent a distress signal.”

“Right,” she dipped her chin sharply. “I’ll let you get to them, then.”

“Don’t rush off. I’m not allowed to approach just yet. We have a bit of a joint-custody situation.” He narrowed his eyes at the book she still clung to. “How is your research going?”

“Slow. We should set aside some time to work on it together.”

He grinned. “I’ll send you my schedule.”

“How is Hogwarts?” She asked.

Theo’s mood shifted dangerously. “Pomona decided to stay on another year, so of course Neville is feeling defeated. She’s still overworking him, giving him even less freedom than usual. And students are struggling even more than usual it seems.”

Her own mood mirrored his at the explanation. 

But before she could ask any more questions, the quiet abruptly ended, and Theo moved towards the small group, dragging Hermione along with him with an arm looped through hers.

“…not an excuse for apparating by yourself,” Malfoy seethed.

“As you can plainly see,” Pansy said with false sweetness, “I wasn’t harmed.”

“I can’t fucking do this right now,” Malfoy said to Blaise. “Think you can handle your wife without my assistance for half a day? If she has no regard for her own wellbeing I don’t see why I should care so much either.”

He brushed by with only the briefest of glances, and Theo released Hermione to replace Malfoy at his friends' sides.

“Let him go,” Pansy said, her eyes once more finding Hermione’s for a moment before she turned back to Blaise and Theo. “He’ll come back when he’s ready. I’m tired. Will both of you assist me onto the examination table, please. And close the door for me, too."

While his friends shut themselves away, Hermione hurried to catch Malfoy before he could make it back to the waiting room, and he turned to glare down at her in undisguised annoyance as she stopped in front of him.

“Are you alright?” She asked, suddenly not sure she'd made the correct choice by going after him.

He inhaled heavily, and she wondered if her scent still had the same calming effect his had on her.

“I’m fine.”

She fidgeted with the spine of the book in her crossed arms, not sure what she even intended to accomplish. But she was too far in to whatever it was to back down. “Thank you for letting me borrow your book." She nodded downwards. "It’s been helpful so far. Not groundbreaking…but I can’t reasonably expect to find all the answers I want in the first thing I read.”

He flexed his clenched fist several times before allowing his hand to fall open at his side. “Lucky for you, you now have my entire private collection at your disposal.”

Her attempt to fight off an amused smile failed miserably. “It’s your own fault for putting the idea into my head. I was surprised you decided to lend this one to me.”

If she didn’t know better, she would have thought him offended. “Why’s that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, something about you never learning to share.”

He was the one unable to hide his humor this time. “You did say I should broaden my education.” His lips twitched in a way that raised her mental alarms. “But I do see your point. Maybe I did make a mistake by sending it to you.”

“I—wait…what?”

But Malfoy ignored her distress. “No, you’re right. Simple lapse of judgement on my part.” He held out his hand. “Give it back.”

She stared at him, her arms tightening their hold. 

“The book, Granger,” Malfoy prompted expectantly. “I’m rescinding my offer.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open in outrage. “You can’t do that. I want to make sure I didn’t overlook anything in my translation. You said you owed me. And I followed through when I was the one who promised a favor to you.”

His eyes flashed at the reminder, and at the same time, he summoned the book, which obviously had an affinity for his magic because her hold on it did nothing to stop it from flying to his waiting grip.

So she reached over and grabbed the binding right beneath his hands, pulling hard but failing to snatch it back from him. “I’m…” She tugged again, only to be met with more resistance, the backs of her fingers ending up pressed into his chest. “Doing this…for your benefit too.”

“I know.” He leaned down a little, and it made her realize just how close to him she’d gotten. “That’s why you shouldn’t have to rely on me to fetch things for you.”

She stopped trying to wrestle his book from him. “I—I’m confused.”

He smirked, enjoying whatever game he was playing far too much for her liking. “What I’m saying, Granger, is that you should have the option of browsing my library yourself.”

She squeaked a noise that made heat flutter across her cheeks as her arms dropped to her sides. “At your manor?”

His mouth flattened into a line. “That is where I keep it.”

After muttering an irritated curse at him, she forced herself to remain levelheaded. “Are you sure that’s something you’re comfortable with?”

He shrugged with an ease she envied. “I am if you are. I’ll give you your privacy while you’re there, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’ll have thousands of books all to yourself. And it would save me and my owl a great deal of time and trouble.”

Anxiety quickly tumbled into anticipation. “You already know I’m not turning this down.”

“Good.” His smug expression told her he’d expected as much. “Just give me a few days to remove any spare notes or personal correspondence that’s been accidentally left between any pages.”

She crossed her arms again, still too excited to show him any true animosity. “I did apologize for that.”

“You did.” The hint of a curve forming on his lips made her relax, but then it disappeared as he nodded to their side. “I think that healer over there wants to speak with you.”

She shifted, finding an impatient looking woman gesturing to the open door a ways down the hall. She hadn’t even noticed the call of her name. “Oh—my appointment. I have to go. Let me know once you set up our floo connection. I’ll change my wards when I’m done here to allow you in.”

The sudden shock on his face made her lungs stutter and her palms itch.

“I—well…I just assumed that would be easiest—if you don’t want—”

He cut off her rambling with nothing more than a wordless command. 

His eyes flicked over her once again. “I’ll send my owl once it’s done.” 

Without any further explanation, he stalked towards the door leading to the apparition point.

While she seriously considered asking her healer for a prescription for an anti-anxiety potion, too.

She hoped getting exactly what she wanted didn't end up being more than she could withstand.

Chapter Text

If Hermione paced in front of her fireplace any more, she was going to wear a visible path into the floorboards.

It had taken Malfoy longer than she'd expected to complete their floo connection, something that made her realize with not an insignificant amount of embarrassment that maybe the method she'd chosen had not been the easiest after all.

Yet Malfoy seemed determined to follow through anyway.

And judging by his recent letter—and invitation—he'd been quite proud of himself for proving the feat possible.

Which wouldn't matter...if she couldn't convince herself to actually pick up the green powder and step through into his home.

She wasn't anxious. 

That emotion had always been one she'd been privileged enough to be able to overcome with logic. And the little that had remained had been trained out of her in her time becoming an adolescent soldier.

Her problem was the trait she'd always struggled to control.

She wanted.

Badly enough that she was stalling because she didn't trust herself to be near Malfoy without admitting it to him. 

All the work she'd spent building a shroud inside the corner of her mind to hide memories of their time in the forest had been ripped to shreds the moment her fingers had pressed against him as they'd fought over his book.

She hadn't been able to reassemble it since.

Refusing to be more late than the twelve minutes she already would be, she snatched a handful from her floo jar, spoke her choice of location with more surety than she felt, and ducked through her own hearth.

She found herself standing inside a cavernous fireplace.

In Malfoy Manor.

It was nothing like she’d expected. 

Clean and meticulously organized but not at all uncluttered, a contrast of style as if a half dozen people had decorated over the top of one another, never throwing out their predecessors choices. 

It somewhat reminded her of her own personal spaces, though from a vastly different income bracket, and she found herself quite enamored by it. 

But what really caught her eye were the various unfamiliar and intriguing creations about the room, and a closer look revealed even more half-completed, unidentifiable objects, with their accompanying components. She spotted one such project on a bookcase shelf, one on an ornate writing desk, the tea table, atop a brass chest, and even one on the corner of the enormous mantle she stood beneath.

She stepped back to look more closely at the partially assembled clock-like device above her.

"Trouble getting through?"

She spun around to find Malfoy leaning casually against an arched doorway.

His scent was already strong so she'd been too distracted to notice it increasing, but now that she did notice, it threatened to lull her into a false sense of comfort.

One she could not allow herself to accept unless she was prepared to do something unbelievably stupid.

"Not at all."

He glared at her, and she rolled her eyes.

She had no idea Malfoy had such a distaste for tardiness.

Instead of offering an excuse, she peered around the room again, trying and failing to distinguish the purpose of any of his strange belongings.

"Library's this way," Malfoy said, and without any other explanation, he disappeared into the corridor, leaving her with no choice but to hurry to keep up. 

"How is Pansy?" she asked, once she slowed to a normal pace beside him.

"Worse." Judging by his tone, he didn't feel like talking about it.

So she studied the tapestries and wall-sized paintings as they walked, most of them depicting fantastical scenes of magical creatures.

A laugh bubbled up before she could stop it.

Malfoy looked down at her as if he we're assessing her sanity.

"Just had a funny thought of your father walking through here in death eater robes, surrounded by such whimsical artwork."

Especially the ones of animals traditionally associated with light magic.

Malfoy made an amused sound. "That is entertaining. Never happened though. I stripped the whole manor of anything that belonged to him. Combed through the family storerooms for things I liked instead."

Well that explained the multiple decor styles.

"You didn't buy anything new?"

"Seemed like a waste." He paused before a set of double doors, intricately carved with a pair of entwined dragons. "Here we are."

Malfoy flicked his wand to swing the doors inward, giving her the first view of the book-filled room.

She froze in the entrance.

Immobilized by the sight.

Wholly unprepared for how it would affect her.

Malfoy lifted his hand as if he were going to wrap it around the back of her neck to calm her but dropped it again before she even had the chance to say anything.

But it was enough to reanimate her.

She looked up to find him assessing her with humor. 

"If I leave you to it, I'm not going to come back to find you unconscious from overwhelm am I?"

She stepped just inside, taking an audible breath. "I'm recovered now. But god, would I do some morally reprehensible things for this library."

His eyes fell to hers, the circle of silver in them almost too thin to see. "Sometimes I question how stable that giant brain of yours is, Granger."

She laughed, mostly as an attempt to distract herself. "Honestly, it's less so than I'd like it to be."

Amusement lit up his features even more. "Should I have hidden the sections containing dark magic."

"You agreed to no restrictions," she said, backing farther away, hoping his wintery scent didn't chase behind her. "You're just going to have to trust me."

"I thought I'd made it clear that I do."

Before she could say anything else, he continued on down the corridor, to what she assumed was deeper into the manor.

But she didn't think about his parting words for long, distracted as she was by so many books to choose from. 

She browsed for a while just because she could, and then she summoned the titles from her pre-prepared list, settling at one of several long tables to read.

Most of what she found, she already knew. Books delving into Waffling's fundamental laws of magic, the complete works of magical theoretitcian Quisling, Spangle's research on the individual personality's shaping of charms, and the list went on and on. 

But none of the books offered any insight into their current problems apart from her own general speculation.

She wasn’t sure how many hours she’d studied, but she knew she needed a break.

The want for fresh air drew her to the balcony, and she leaned onto the stone railing to look out over the manor grounds. 

The sight nearly made her sway on her feet.

Which was insane given how she’d already been mesmerized by the inside of the place.

Malfoy clearly had no interest in gardening, but that didn’t detract from the scenic landscape.

Everything had been left to grow wild, a forest of evergreens and ivy and an abundance of plant life that had likely once been meticulously maintained.

But the greenery didn't hold her attention long. She kept being drawn back to what had first captured her interest. Because, half hidden in the overgrowth, were dozens of sandstone statues, life-sized replicas of the different species of dragons they'd been carved to represent.

The grandest of them all a creature with fierce open jaws and a coiling serpentine body carved into the unmistakable form of Malfoy's astronomical namesake.

She found herself wishing she could see it up close. 

Even with the breeze, she knew the moment she was no longer alone.

"I don't know which ancestor had them commissioned, but they've been there a very long time."

She glanced over her shoulder to see Malfoy standing just inside.

But the dragons soon lured her back. "The view from here, it's stunning."

"It is."

God, she wished she could at least find the answer to how much sway their pheromones held over them. It made her feel unable to trust her own body. Her own thoughts.

Or Malfoy's.

Made her question if the heated quality of his voice was intentional or only a by-product of reactions beyond his control.

She forced a friendly smile that somehow bled into truthful amusement. "Unconventional groundskeeping."

Malfoy's quiet laugh seemed to surprise him as much as it did her. "I tore out invasive species at least."

"Very responsible." She held her breath as she brushed past him, returning to her uneven stack of books.

He shut the balcony doors and joined her, standing beside a pile that hadn't been there before. "I only interrupted to get a few things."

The subject matter of the book on top made her nose wrinkle involuntarily. "Why are you researching about divination?"

"I've been told it could provide insight."

As she read the remaining titles, she wondered who would tell him such a thing. And why he would fall for it. "I don't think I've ever even heard of some of these methods."

"That's a shock."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "It's a waste of good shelf space, if you ask me."

He eyed her suspiciously. "Never thought I'd see the day you'd despise a book you'd hadn't even read."

She crossed her arms, feeling defensive. "I prefer empirical evidence over imaginary nonsense."

"Should one not consider both?"

She scoffed. “Good scientists rely purely on logic.”

“Muggle ones, maybe. But us too?”

“Yes,” she insisted. “It means we're less likely to be swayed by pseudoscience. And theocracy.  And imprecise practices like divination.”

“While disregarding a large part of our existence,” he shot back. “Wouldn’t it be a better assertion that we should consider both the logical and the non-logical in our assessments?”

“Absolutely not. Logic keeps us from making mistakes.”

Malfoy somehow went even more pale than usual. “Sometimes our logic is what nearly ruins everything."

The rest of her argument died on her tongue. 

A stark reminder she didn't know everything that happened to him during the war.

Just as he didn't know about her.

It made the entire situation suddenly feel too personal. 

Too much.

She closed the cover of the book she'd been working through. "I think I'll save these for another day. When...would it be alright for me to come back?"

Malfoy shifted, seeming equally as uncomfortable. "We made a deal. You’re welcome here as often as you'd like. No need to wait for an invitation."

His words eased some of the tension in her shoulders. "That's—thank you. With my schedule so tight right now...you have no idea how much that will help me."

She headed for the doorway, having to move around Malfoy to get there.

"I'll walk you to the fireplace."

His presence sent all of her nerves into a frenzy of electrical impulses.

She didn't look at the art, instead focusing straight ahead, embracing the nature of walking the ancient manor's halls for the first time. 

The vastness made her uneasy.

As did the quiet.

It reminded her that the people he’d once shared it with were no longer there.

"I'm sorry I made a joke about your father before. I...shouldn't have been so flippant when I know you lost them both. Especially since I know what it's like."

His scoff held more anger than anything else. "Not having my father here is hardly a burden.”

“I suppose not.”

He looked down at her with a dark expression. “What do you mean you know what it's like? Where are yours?"

"Gone,” she whispered. “To me at least."

He recovered from the break in his stride so quickly she almost missed it. "I'm sorry."

He didn't pry, and she was thankful for it.

But it did emphasize that Malfoy was just as alone as she was. 

They finally reached the room she'd arrived in, and she glanced around again. “So much space. Does it get lonely?”

“Does it matter?”

She swallowed her nerves, risking meeting his gaze. “I think it might.”

The coldness in his eyes caught her off guard. “Are you offering your company?”

She hugged her arms against her chest. "I—was just making an observation."

"I've been alone for a long time. And as you can see, I have plenty to keep myself occupied."

She grabbed the handful of floo powder as if it were a lifeline.

But he spoke before she could secure an uneventful exit. “Since we're airing our grievances.” She could hear his heavy swallow. “I'm sorry I left you the way I did.”

She'd never heard him sound so unsure.“No need to apologize.” She halfway covered her amusement. “Though I do applaud your progress.” When he didn’t react, she regained seriousness. “It was a lot to deal with, Malfoy. For both of us.”

“I was angry.”

“Alright."

“At myself. What I almost did. How I nearly proved them all well within their rights to still hate me. I was surprised you even spoke to me again."

Knowing he would reject any assurance of her understanding, she made her trust in him known in a manner he hopefully could endure. With an offer she'd been waiting for the right moment to extend. “I’ve been making arrangements to go back. To the Forest. To try to understand what’s wrong there with people who actually care. And without anyone else trying to use me for their own goals. It isn't set in stone yet, but if you'd like, I want to offer you the chance to join my field team."

When he didn't show any sign he’d even heard her, she added, "I want to help with whatever you need to take care of for Pansy while we're there, too."

It was the sharpness in his gaze that startled her, that left her blood simmering as it pulled inward, filling her middle with warmth. 

Making her realize she needed to escape.

Immediately.

Or she was going to lose all her remaining resolve.

"I'll just…I’ll give you time to think on it."

She left him staring through a cloud of green as she disappeared through the hearth.

Once back in her own home, she realized she was practically shaking, the side of her neck uncomfortably sensitive and, embarrassingly, so was everything between her thighs.

Even changing from her too-tight jeans into a thin summer dress didn’t ease the growing pressure in her middle, and she ended up on her bed with her fingers circling her clit before she’d even made the conscious decision to do it.

Her Omega began practically purring, and she was thankful the damn creature could at least be sated by her own means when she wasn’t in heat. 

Her pride remained preserved.

Until she caught the edge of the magazine cover atop her nightstand in her peripheral vision.

Fuck. Who needed pride anyway?

She tossed her fresh knickers aside because they were already soaked through again before she snatched up the pages, flipping through to find what she wanted and smoothing it open on her pillow.

She groaned before she even got her hand back in place. 

It was a full length photo, but his head was turned to showcase his profile as well as the bruised impressions of her teeth in his pale skin.

The memory of making those marks soon had her panting and trembling in her desperate search for release.

It wasn’t fair. How even his likeness and the creativity of her own mind could make her feel so out of control.

Her floo howling through the arrival of a guest preceded the terrible realization she’d forgotten to lock it before engaging in her self-care activities, and she rushed to get up, fully intending to tell Ginny it was not a good time.

Her feet stuttered in the hallway.

Because the person beside her fireplace was not at all who she’d expected.

"Malfoy?" She had to fight to control her breathing. "W-what are you doing?"

He stalked towards her and had her back pressed against the wall before she could even react. "What I've wanted to do all fucking day."

His thumb grazed her bottom lip as he tilted her face to his.

"Granger," he said, his voice scraping against her skin, sharp and dripping with dangerous intent. "Give in again."

Transfixed by his burning gaze, she nodded against his hand. "I think I already have."

He kissed her as if her willingness hadn’t been an unequivocal conclusion, desperately and sincerely enough she could taste the relief on his tongue.

Like he was starved for touch and barely able to accept her, and somehow it was equally as frightening as the consuming possession they’d shared during her heat.

Because she was starving, too.

She raised her arms with the intention of pulling him closer, but as soon as her hand landed on his collar, he pulled back and caught her fingers between his own, raising them to his mouth.

Confidence overshadowed the wariness from before. "Am I interrupting?"

It would have been useless to deny, especially with his newly heightened senses. So she shrugged in an attempt to downplay it. "It’s alright that you did."

"Fuck.” He breathed in against her fingers before loosening his hold. “Show me."

The Omega was surely the one who agreed. 

She trailed her hand down her body until she could tug up the fabric of her dress.

"No.” He took her hand again, but this time wove his fingers between hers, leaving them against her partially covered thigh. “I don't want a performance. Let me see what you were doing before I arrived. How you make yourself feel good when the only thing you have to think about is your own body. Were you in your bed?"

She gave him a dazed nod.

"Where?” He pulled her by the hand he still held. “Never mind. I already know."

The moment they crossed the threshold into her bedroom, she remembered what exactly she’d been doing before, or rather what she’d been using as inspiration. 

But before she could do anything about it, of course he’d locked it in his sight.

"Fuck me, Granger. Are you—? You were using my photo?"

Her face burned, but she glared, daring him to say anything negative. “Yes.”

He nudged her closer towards her bed. “Lie down. How you were.”

She stretched out on her stomach, propping herself up on her forearm, once again staring down at the full-page image of the man who now stood over her. 

She watched as he climbed in the bed too, and god, he really did look even better in person.

His fingertips skimmed along the backs of her legs as he settled at her side. “Tell me, what were you thinking about?"

"Well, you, obviously. But especially this." She pointed to the imprint of her teeth. "What were you thinking not glamouring it?"

"I don't fucking know, Granger. But my Alpha, it got protective over it. Wanted to show it off to all the other Alphas I happened to meet."

Right.

The Alpha in him wanted to boast.

To claim. 

Just like her Omega did.

Part of their newly altered behavior.

A phenotypic anomaly.

One she was just as much beholden to because why else would she have confessed to using his image to get herself off?

"Oh god, I can't believe I admitted to this."

She could hear the humor in his voice even though she’d turned away to hide. "Would you like a companion in that shame?"

A pained noise got caught in her throat. "Only if it will make me feel better."

His teasing brushes against her skin slipped under the hem of her dress. “The issue from last year? With the photo of you in that muggle swimsuit?” He leaned in, his breathing harsh against her neck. “I keep it in my bedside table. Had it since it was published. I’ve imagined fucking you far more than you have me.”

"I should be disturbed by that."

"But you're not."

"No. I'm not. And it did make me feel better.”

He pulled her in for another taste of her mouth, not stopping until she was breathless. "Are you ready to show me what else you did while you were staring at me?"

Without a word, she drew her hand down, rubbing against herself in the exactly the way she had before.

Malfoy cursed into her hair.

It only made her more desperate.

“Fuck, Granger, tell me what you’re thinking now.”

"You,” she whimpered. “Pulling my hand away. Using your own fingers instead."

His soft touches turned into a bruising grip. “Is that what you want?”

“Please.”

He shifted so that he could reach around her, his weight pressing her harder into the mattress as he circled her wrist and brought it from beneath her, his own fingers quick to replace the loss, somehow mimicking what she’d been doing perfectly.

She was gasping and coming beneath him within minutes.

But afterwards, he didn’t ease up, and instead he slipped his fingers inside her and pulsed, his palm pressing flush against her clit.

Combined with the way he had her pinned beneath him, she was spiraling into madness. “Malfoy…”

His fingers were on the verge of making her come again, but she felt like begging for his cock. “Malfoy, please…”

“Which do you want more?” He asked, voice rough and fingers stroking deeper.

“I want you inside me.”

She half expected for him to tell her he already was, but he finally eased his hand along up her stomach, and she felt the dip of the soft surface as he shifted to stand.

He tossed his shirt and worked at his belt, stepping out of his trousers, all while she stared motionless from her bed.

“Keep your eyes on my photograph, Granger.”

He regained his position over her, only this time she could feel his skin against hers except for where he’d shoved her dress up to her back. 

With her focus where he’d demanded, her breath caught as he raised her hips with his hand back beneath her and then worked his cock inside, his thrusts gathering strength with every increase in depth until he was fully taken in by her body. 

It was her fantasy made into reality, and it didn’t take long for him to have her crying out and on the edge of another orgasm.

He kept his pace, leaning down to speak beside her ear. "Knot?"

"Oh god yes...if...if you don't mind."

"Fucking christ, Granger. No, I don't fucking mind."

She came immediately, the telling sign of his own orgasm dragging hers out to an unreasonable magnitude the way it had every time before.

It felt so good, she didn’t even mind when he shifted them to their sides and she remembered with growing humiliation that it meant they were literally trapped for another half-hour.

A few minutes went by before she couldn’t stand the silence any longer. 

"Are you disappointed?” She asked quietly. “Now that it's...less than it was before?"

"I'm frustrated." Her heart compressed in an uncomfortable pause at his response. "But only because I thought it would be easier to stop wanting this after your heat ended. Instead, I want you just as badly as before."

The admission made her lightheaded. “I feel the same way."

She still faced away, but she could hear his mental calculations.

"I'm struggling to find a reason we shouldn't keep doing this, Granger."

"I don't...I'm not mentally in a good place, which is why I'm not looking for a relationship...not that I'm saying that's what you want, of course…but even if I were looking for one, I would need to be afforded time. A lot of it. And the changes we've gone through add a disturbing amount of permanence. I can't deny I want you physically, but I meant what I said before...I won't use you."

"Then don't,” He said easily, as if it were really that simple. “We both just admitted to wanting to keep fucking. So we'll give until one of us decides we don't want to accept any more."

"That is...logical." She winced. "And we still won't tell anyone?"

“Fuck no. Tell everyone I’ve convinced Wizarding Britain’s Princess to have frequent casual sex with me? Might as well charm a giant target to my back.” He made an annoyed sound. “Well, a larger one.”

“I certainly don’t want to be the reason you get accused of anything again.” She was still filled with rage over the last time.

“But you’re saying yes, aren’t you? It’s just a minor adjustment to the terms of our peace treaty.”

She smiled at the reminder. “Yes.”

He pulled her in closer against his chest. “Good.”

When he was finally able to slip free, he brushed his lips along her shoulder. “I should go.”

She nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze.

Right.

That’s what they’d agreed on.

Just sex.

But still, watching him dress left an odd hollow feeling in her stomach. 

She didn’t accompany him to the fireplace, and she didn’t leave her bed. 

Not even when it took an entire six minutes for the floo to signal his absence.

Chapter Text

Hermione had a new routine. 

One she found to be quite wonderful. 

And that simultaneously made her want to claw the fucking drapes to shreds.

For the past eight weeks, she had come home from the ministry every workday, showered, then flooed straight to the manor, where Malfoy would be waiting, his mouth falling to hers before the powder even had a chance to clear from the air, and he’d soon have her pressed into the wall. Or the floor. Or sat on the edge of his desk. Or with her front flat against it.

Physically, she’d never felt better in her entire life, and with the constant influx of orgasm-induced endorphins, she wasn’t feeling too bad mentally either.

It was the Omega that had a problem. 

Prowling around her mental landscape like a feral cat.

Because the first time he’d been in her bed nearly two months before had been the last time he’d asked if she wanted him to give her his knot.

She couldn’t help but think it was because of the period of time it took for them to regain their ability to move independently. How it forced them to have more than a passing conversation. 

They did speak. 

Briefly. 

About things they’d read, about her work, about how their respective ill friends were doing. 

But it was always tempered by their agreement.

Casual. 

Friendly. 

Exactly as they’d planned.

All while her Omega grew more and more desperate.

Weekends were marginally better because their time together doubled. Still no knot, but she would arrive early in the morning, and Malfoy would apparate them directly to his bed where he’d take her slowly, breathing her in as if he could never get enough of her scent. Then after she finished researching, he’d follow her home and repeat how they’d began their day in her bed, too.

Her birthday was one such time. And after he’d gone home for the night, she’d found a small gift on her fireplace mantle. A palm-sized carved wooden stand holding a silver fire-dwelling salamander that was charmed to scurry around its nest of white-flamed sticks every so often, creating sparkling embers that swirled into the air. With a parchment attached that read, ‘Reminded me of you, little dragon.’ She’d laughed and wondered where he’d found such a silly and adorable thing.

But when she’d asked him the next day, he’d shrugged her off without so much as a word about her birthday. 

Which she guessed was what she preferred.

It was far easier to deal with than the alternative so she’d followed his lead and gone right back into their easy and emotionally carefree pattern.

And her only trouble was keeping the increasingly wild Omega from begging for more.

Hermione began the new work week with a sense of optimism, still basking in the afterglow of the hours of fantastic sex she’d had over the weekend, only to be slapped with the heavy hand of reality as soon as the morning post arrived.

The follow-up article about the Forbidden Forest at long last graced the front page of the Daily Prophet, and she found herself in the familiar—and fucking infuriating—position of having to stare into a reflection of her own face as she read it. This particular magical photo also included Zacharias Smith, who happened to be the primary source of information. 

Someone had taken it at Neville’s party, the moment Zacharias had approached her and she’d given a polite but very fake smile.

But that wasn’t even the worst part. 

For one, it named her as an Omega. Something she’d known was bound to be revealed eventually, but knowing it came from the idiot who’d spent a whole week testing her at every turn made her rage spark dangerously in her veins, not yet the flash burn of petrol but slower and more sinister like flames dancing over an endless source of paraffin. 

And two, it told the entire fucking wizarding community that she’d spent the second half of the field study going through her first heat.

It also briefly mentioned the other Alphas and had a line on Malfoy’s dismissal for ‘undisclosed reasons.’

As if it weren’t already bad enough, the concluding paragraphs abandoned all pretense of journalistic integrity to spout speculative nonsense so ridiculous and false it almost made her laugh.

She read them over again to ensure she hadn’t been cursed to imagine it all in some bizarre fever dream. 

Smith declined to reveal for certain which Alpha spent the week with Ms. Granger, but we can confirm the question left a rather satisfied smile on his face.

Is the Golden Girl finally ready to settle down and begin her own Golden family? Our bets are on Hogwarts having a freshly sorted Gryffindor in a few years time.

The newspaper combusted in a brilliant flash, leaving a pile of soot on her desk, and after sweeping the mess into the bin, she spent the rest of her morning hiding in her office, planning official statements, science-based articles, and spite-fueled rebuttals.

She stayed so long, she had to dig out one of the simple emergency meals she kept in her desk, thankful for the benefit of magical preservation. 

But she knew from experience the ministry would be far from empty until several hours later.

And she was already exhausted from the extra work she’d taken on organizing the new field study.

At this rate, she wouldn’t make it home to her bed at all. 

Her door had remained locked and heavily warded the whole day, so seeing Harry’s patronus glide through the solid wood startled her at first. 

She allowed him in only a moment later, and she could tell by how he immediately began cleaning his glasses that he’d read the news.

“Don’t you dare insult me by asking if the bit about Zacharias Smith is true. I would never.”

Thankfully, he had yet to restore his eyesight or else he would have seen her blush at realizing it would probably be a more reasonable choice to him than who she had spent her week with.

Harry sighed heavily, his glasses finally back in place. “I’m actually here to take you to the hospital. Gin wants you there.”

“Oh god, Harry, is she alright?” She hurried to gather her things.

“They’re keeping her in for a transfusion spell. The whole family stopped by, but you know how that is.”

Her stomach dropped. “We should hurry then.”

Although it hadn’t taken long, only Ron remained once they reached Ginny’s private room, the rest of the family having all found their excuses to escape.

And Ron left too as soon as he’d let them know the healers had just begun the procedure. Which was obvious.

Hermione rearranged the furniture so that she could sit beside the bed, and then took her friend’s hand. “How are you feeling?”

Ginny smiled weakly. “Fine. If I could only silence the damn orchestra in my head playing the Hogwarts March so loudly I’m surprised you don’t hear it.”

“I’ll hum along to myself. Let me know if the tune changes.” She squeezed Ginny’s fingers and was relieved to see her brighten a bit. “I’ll be right here.”

Ginny fell asleep not long after, but Hermione didn’t let go.

Not even when the healer came in to check the progress.

She watched the complex series of spells provide information she wasn’t sure how to interpret. “Are hallucinations common?”

The healer ran another test. “Unfortunately, yes. But they’re caused by the low levels and will very likely improve afterwards.”

After a few more inquiries, the three of them were alone again.

“I’ll help you while she has to stay home. I can cancel my study, I’ve already gotten the time off approved from the ministry.”

“You’re not wasting all of your effort. Besides, what you’re doing is just as important for Gin and for everyone else. If the shortages go on…”

“I know.” There were only so many magical forests. They would reach a point where the supply no longer met demands. And people like Ginny would be the first to suffer.

As much as she wanted to stay, she knew the more beneficial choice long-term was to follow through with her plans.

She and Harry fell into easy and quiet conversations as they always did, only pausing when the healers came in to let them know the transfusion was complete and they would be back later to check vitals again.

She finally convinced him to get a nap in while she was still there.

In the quiet, she found herself mentally rehearsing her final proposal of observation methods and mitigation strategies she believed the centaurs would accept.

Ginny’s hand twitched during the fourth recitation, and Hermione helped her sit up and to drink a few sips of water. 

“Feeling better?” She asked, sitting back in the chair.

Ginny paused as if taking stock of her internal flow of power. “More than I expected, actually.”

She gave a pointed look towards Ginny’s head. “Any trumpets or snare drums up there?”

“Thankfully they’ve moved on.” She grinned, and the vibrancy of it sparked hopefulness. “Thank you for keeping me calm. You’ve been here for hours. Why don’t you go get some rest?”

“I will when you do. They’re giving you a dreamless sleep potion for the night.”

“Bless them. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks.” She turned towards Harry who had sat up as well. “Any chance you’ll let me read the news now?”

He shook his head. “You aren’t well enough yet to go on a hexing spree.”

Ginny’s expression said she disagreed with her husband, but then she turned back to Hermione. “He told me the worst of it. Probably best I don’t read it ever. Smith should hope he and I never cross paths. The absurdity of him to insinuate he’s at all your type.” Her ire thawed into mischief. “He’s not nearly blonde enough.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open. “That is not a requirement for me.”

“Fine.” Ginny smirked. “He’s too much of a nice guy then.”

“That makes even less sense.”

“It does not. You like them mean, Hermione. To others at least. Probably an only child thing. You want all the attention to yourself.”

Harry yawned and then chuckled from his place on the sofa. “She’s not wrong.”

Her incredulous gaze bounced between each of them before she settled on Ginny, biting her tongue to hide her own amusement. She crossed her arms and leaned back. “Is it time for your potion now?”

The three of them dissolved into a fit of light-hearted laughter.

It was sorely needed. 

Before long, the healers arrived stating it was time to administer the dreamless sleep, and Hermione only let go of Ginny’s hand once the magical medicine had taken effect. 

Then she checked to make sure Harry was settled in and didn’t want her to bring him anything from home.

“I’ve got it all handled. Go get some rest.” He wrinkled his nose as he hugged her. “And maybe a shower.”

She made an outraged noise, laughing as she spoke. “Send word if you need anything throughout the night.”

Slipping out so as not to disturb anyone or draw attention, Hermione followed the corridor towards the apparition point.

She caught the scent of burning evergreens only seconds before she was dragged through an entryway and crowded against the door as it slammed behind her. 

Her body never even considered protesting, melting underneath Malfoy’s possessive touch and his rapid breath as his head fell to her neck.

“You’re going to have to give me a fucking minute.”

She nodded frantically, realizing how much she needed the contact as well. “What are you doing here?”

“Pansy was admitted early this morning. I’ve been waiting for you since they got her stable and sleeping.”

“You followed my pheromones.”

“I did.”

“Any particular reason?”

His next exhale resonated like a silent growl. “I read the fucking Prophet.”

“Right,” she said. Of course it had caused Malfoy’s Alpha to react. “I could avada him for it.”

He finally regained his height, staring down at her with barely controlled violence. “Get in line, Granger.”

“Why should you get the honors?”

Leaning in again, he spoke close to her ear. “Because I want it more. I was serious when I said I never did learn to share.”

He sucked at a spot behind her jaw, leaving her gasping and clawing at the back of his shirt. "Should…really work on that. It’s—wait…” She pulled back. “Are you jealous?"

"Of course I'm fucking jealous,” he bit out, dragging his thumb across her bottom lip. “It's making me want to claim what's mine."

Letting her hands trail around to come to rest on his belt, she looked up at him. "Do it then."

"Here?"

"Do you want to wait?"

"Fuck no."

“Neither do I.”

He gathered her skirt at her waist as she worked at his belt, and magic skimmed along her skin as he vanished her knickers and lifted her where he wanted, thrusting forcefully inside.

She barely subdued a half-pained, half-hedonistic cry.

“Be as loud as you want. I cast a silencing charm when we came in.”

Letting go of concentrating on being quiet allowed her to focus on better things. Like how he held her so tightly she could barely move. Or how her respiratory system had flooded with his scent. Or how his cock fit so perfectly and hit every pleasurable spot so precisely it could only be explained by their bodies having been magically altered. 

How he had her shaking through an orgasm so strong it left tears stinging her eyes.

Even after she came, he gave no indication he’d be stopping any time soon.

It was all too much for her Omega. “Malfoy, please,” she whimpered. “Take us somewhere I can have your knot. I…god I need it.”

Heaving inhales and exhales punctuated his otherwise stillness. “Need?”

She nodded against his chest. “Please.”

He eased out and lowered her carefully, tucking his cock away before practically dragging her to the apparition point, and they landed inside his bedroom.

Their clothes vanished as he pushed her onto the sheets, fitting his cock back into her cunt and continuing on as it they hadn’t broken apart at all. 

He made her come twice more before he did, knotting deep inside just as she’d asked him to, and her Omega preened as he flipped them, leaving her to lie on his chest, unable to do anything besides accept it.

His Alpha must have still been prominently in control because Malfoy seemed quite satisfied to have her in such a vulnerable position.

But after two months of craving the delicious stretch of his knot and finally being able to have it, she couldn’t find it in herself to care.

In fact, she felt lightheaded and carefree.

She propped her head onto her arms so she could look up at him. “What’s my scent like to you? I told you about yours before we even knew about our scent glands. But I just realized I’ve never asked you about mine.”

Malfoy breathed in heavily, his fingers idly twirling a coiled strand of her hair. His voice felt even lower than normal. "Like cider. And mulled wine. Warm and sweet and intoxicating. With undertones of the candles we light for Yule. It's—I believe you used the word comforting. It's the same for me."

Silence went on longer than she’d planned because of the unexpected description.

“Why haven’t you wanted to do this?”

He sighed as if he’d been waiting for her to ask. But he didn’t shy away from her gaze as he answered. “You made it clear that you required time. That it was important to you. I may not know your reasoning, but I had to make sure you knew I was willing to give it to you. That I wouldn’t use you for more than we agreed to. Not now and not ever.”

“That…”

She choked on the words.

After several attempts to swallow, she tried again. “It’s a lot more than anyone else has ever offered me. You have no idea how much…the burden it lifts…I…”

She trailed off again.

“Growing up with all those siblings. He didn’t want to wait for you to decide on other options, did he?”

She relaxed at his partial understanding. “Ron and I weren’t compatible for a thousand reasons, but I do think it helped him let go sooner.” And because she was curious, she pried into his own past. “What ever happened with you and Astoria?”

He made an amused sound that vibrated through his sternum. “If I recall correctly, she wanted to be with someone who wasn’t such an arsehole. And I didn’t care enough to change. It didn’t help that Pansy drove a wedge between us every chance she got.”

“Out of jealousy?”

“God, no. Pansy—she has her own ideas about how my life should go. The girl my parents paid for me to marry was not acceptable according to her. And I never fought it because I was more than happy to avoid an arranged marriage.”

She stared at him, horrified. “Were you ever allowed anything just for yourself?”

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

Worried his sharp gaze would see too much, she turned to rest her cheek on the back of one hand, her fingertip tracing a long scar crossing his ribs. “Not that what I think matters all that much…but the choices you have made? Taking care of Pansy, working to restart your life, caring enough to respect my needs? You may still be an arsehole, but you’re also a good man, Malfoy.”

Silence again settled between them, and she was glad for it. But he made no attempt to move.

Not even after his knot returned to its normal size.

So she carefully freed herself and rolled so that she could face him on her side.

“I’m going to the Forest tomorrow, just for the day, but I don’t know what time I’ll get back. Maia agreed to speak with me, to finalize what they’ll allow me and my team to do. If everything goes well, I should have it all ready two weeks from now.”

She feared for a moment he wouldn’t acknowledge her.

He finally tilted his head her way. “I’ll clear my schedule for it then. If your offer still stands.”

“Of course it does. It…actually it’s a bit of a relief. I’m having trouble finding people who will agree to go. It seems Sprout and Smith have been actively campaigning against my success. I’ve barely slept all week between work and planning and playing media defense.” She groaned, her eyelids already a burden to keep open. “I’m dreading getting out of this bed.”

He flipped to his stomach, facing away, his arms raising to his pillow and voice raspy from his own exhaustion. “Stay if you want.”

She coughed. “What—?”

Malfoy only shrugged, but she could hear the damn entertained quality in his next words. “Or don’t. It’s up to you. You’re the one who said I should work on my sharing skills.”

“Thirty more minutes,” she grumbled. “If you’re sure it’s alright.”

She was already half asleep when he said, “Yeah, Granger. I’m sure.”

Chapter Text

Somewhere, a clock was ticking. 

Which usually wouldn’t have caused distress.

Except Hermione didn’t own a single mechanical timekeeping device. 

She sat up, causing the sheets with far too high a thread count to slip down her naked body.

Snatching her wand from a night table—one she also did not own—she checked the displayed numbers from her spell. 

Oh.

Oh god.

Her request for thirty more minutes had turned into six hours.

Six. Fucking. Hours.

That’s how long she’d accidentally spent in Malfoy’s bed.

With him.

And she didn’t even have time to process the implications because she was also running worryingly behind schedule.

After throwing the coverlet aside, she scrambled off the mattress and hurried to gather her clothing, freshening them with a quick charm as she went.

“Granger…you’re still here.”

She winced at the surprise in Malfoy’s sleep roughened voice, but hearing it made her Omega dive headlong into a pool of erotic memories. 

Keeping her back to him as she picked up the last of her belongings, she rushed to excuse her misstep. “I didn’t mean to stay so long. I really haven’t been getting much sleep and—”

He interrupted by making an appreciative noise. “I’m finding it far from inconvenient. Except for the whirlwind escape bit.”

She turned to find him only covered from the waist down, propped on one forearm, mouth slightly parted, and his eyes trained not so subtly on her bare arse, giving her the impression she was very much in danger of being dragged back beneath him. And as good as that prospect sounded to her Omega, she couldn’t let it happen. “I overslept. If I don’t leave now, I’ll miss my portkey. Again.”

But once she was fully dressed, she found that she was the one stalling, her feet stuttering in the doorway, nerves multiplying exponentially at the thought of having to face the centaurs—and their divination—once again.

Especially since the last few times she’d been in their presence, it had not gone well for her.

Heat enveloped her waist as Malfoy stepped in behind her, his mouth grazing her scent gland as he kissed along her neck.

She glared over her shoulder to let him know he hadn’t gotten away with his sly attempt to calm her.

Of course he showed no remorse whatsoever, his arrogance so excessive she braced herself for his oncoming insult.

“You’ve worked tirelessly on this, Granger. They’ll give you your final approval.” He kissed her in the same place again as she stood in silent surprise. “And if they don’t, we can always fall back on bribery. I happen to know someone with mountains of galleons who has a vested interest in your research endeavors.”

The small smile that found its way to her lips was almost entirely against her will, but some of the tension did drain from her body.

After the next press of his mouth, she stepped away.

Not because she hadn’t wanted it.

But because it had given her the courage she needed to continue on.

Something she would never ever admit to him.

The centaurs’ meadow looked nothing like it had the last time she’d been there.

Some changes were produced by meteorological progression. Leaves had begun turning to golds and oranges, and the green grassland had been transformed to a blanket of rich brown hay interspersed with swaths of purple heather. 

Hermione had always loved the autumn, with its bursts of new colors, its flourish of wildlife activity, its abundant harvest of apples, plums and gooseberries, squashes and brassicas, and freshly foraged mushrooms, its heavy bouts of rain that refresh the land before relinquishing it right back to the sun. The time of year nature just gives and gives and gives.

But it was her appreciation and familiarity with the season that highlighted the unnatural differences.

It was too quiet for one. At a time when many animals were anything but. 

And while most of the usual fruiting and flowering plants were present along the meadow’s edge, some were markedly missing. 

There were also an alarming number of fallen trees on the paths that had led her there.

If those signs of disruption weren’t alarming enough, Maia waited alone, lying with her four legs tucked to her side in the large circle of flattened vegetation that served as their meeting place.

Hermione nodded to the centaur elder. “I admit I expected more formality.”

“Consider it an effort to mend what has been broken between us. Please.” She gestured towards the ground. “Sit with me.”

As Hermione sat and pulled her knees into a similar arrangement as Maia’s, she noticed the reddened cut across the coronet on the elder’s hind leg.

Which explained why they weren’t standing.

But not why the woman was so contrite.

As if she’d known Hermione’s thoughts, she said, “Our latest fire omen readings revealed that I have been too harsh with you. I’m sorry for this.”

Hermione was taken aback, some of the ire she’d only held back out of necessity and respect washing away in actuality. “I…It all happened so quickly. I shouldn’t have asked for more than you were willing to share with me.”

Maia turned serene, an underlying sadness dulling her usually authoritative voice. “You must understand that centaurs are struggling through our own growing pains as well. We’re not accustomed to joining so closely with humans, and it’s difficult to remember you don’t know our customs. Or our stories.”

“I want to understand. But I won’t apologize for the anger I feel that my free will is being taken from me. Again.”

“Yet you are always giving. Enough that even the most distrusting of magical creatures find you noteworthy. No matter their size, dragons do not give their loyalty easily.”

Hermione couldn’t help but grin at the reminder of Scorch, and she hoped for their paths to cross before her time in the forest was over. If the tiny salamander would allow it. Their abrupt goodbye months prior had been another loss in the long list of them she’d endured. Her fond thoughts decayed into something earthy and bitter. “Maybe I am. But I don’t know how much more I have left. I’m so tired of giving.”

"Knowledge. Art. Nourishment. Kindness.” Fine smile lines appeared as Maia gave her a pointed look. “Pleasure. There are many ways to give. Our kind holds all of them in high regard. In nature, what you give to even one has an interesting way of soon benefiting many others. It's not always as you would expect. Generosity multiplies."

Not wanting to waste an opportunity, Hermione held the woman’s gaze. “And will you be generous now?”

Maia sighed, her smile diminished but still present. “Clever.”

Hermione only waited, wanting to see if she would choose to fail by her own moral tenets. 

The centaur finally relented. "We have no say in who the celestial bodies choose to reveal to us. I know you’ll be reluctant to believe me, but I would intervene if I had the power.” The woman shook her head, but Hermione got the impression it had nothing to do with her. “This role…it should not have fallen to one so young. There were once others meant to accept it, ones we have been shown over time. The lily. The experimenter. The chronicler. The nymph. Those who had already found the ones who would have become their mates. With so many lost in the wars, you are the only one who remains.”

“If I choose to play along, what is my role meant to be?”

"Regardless of if you wish it or not, Saturn still chose you. You are the Mother Omega.”

She couldn’t resist a show of distaste. “Mother.”

Maia tilted her head. “The word displeases you.”

"It sounds like I’m being reduced to a singular function of my body. As if I don't have any other potential.” She spoke through gritted teeth. “As if I haven't already proven my worth as I am."

“I see. And I believe I understand.” 

The sincerity cooled Hermione’s flash of indignation. 

“That’s another difference in how our respective species view the universe.” Maia scanned the forest edge. “The trees do not birth young, yet we all depend on them for our survival. Humans forget there are many ways to give life.”

As frustrated as she remained, the explanation did soothe her further. “So it isn’t meant to reference procreation.”

“Not at all,” Maia said. “The magic is similar to a root system. With every living being either connected to or directly affected by it. Like the time-spelled Dawn Tree, you have the ability to share your power with those in need around you. I suspect you’ve noticed this exchange.”

Hermione nodded.

“And the Alpha you mated with, he helped you regain your power?”

“Yes. Does that…” She forced herself to finish the question. “Well, could such a thing happen with any Alpha?”

She thought of how the group of other ones had drained her completely.

“Not all. But it will happen with any you are magically compatible with.”

Ignoring the way it sliced through her middle, she asked, “And how am I to know who I’m meant to be trapped with for life?”

 “Oh no." Maia breathed a small laugh. "It isn’t like that. There will be no question of if you want it or not. You won’t be able to resist asking for the bite of your true mate, and your mate would never deny you what you need. It won’t feel so burdensome when the time comes.”

“And then I’ll be able to divert magic where it’s needed?” The words tasted sour on her tongue.

“When you bond permanently with your true mate, you will gain even more power. Enough that the excess will restore the unwell, the weak, and the young around you. With the equilibrium reached among humans, the rest of the magical world will also find balance and health once more.”

“What—?" Her vision flickered. "You can’t put everything on me.”

“Did you not wish for more information?”

Further dissent dissolved in her mouth. Because she had been the one to ask. It wasn’t anyone else’s fault she didn’t like the answer she received. “That’s fair.”

Maia nodded sharply, obviously pleased with her reasoning. “You and I fought side by side in the past, and I hope we can continue our alliance in this battle, too.”

She stared at the ground in a daze, needing to focus on breathing in and out. “Does that mean you’ll allow me to go forward with my research?”

“That’s the additional gift we wish to offer in restitution. You are free to direct your team and do as you please in the Forest. You’ll have no restrictions from us”

There was no doubt how transparently her face showed her shock. “Thank you. I think that would benefit everyone.”

And it was a way she could help the forest and the community without having to commit to the insane role being forced upon her.

She still had time to figure out an alternative to blindly assuming the responsibility, and from the way Maia had spoken, she would possibly even have the centaurs’ support.

Not long after, they said their goodbyes, with Maia remaining where she was in the grass and Hermione feeling overwhelmed but somehow holding herself together even with the heavy weight of her newly acquired mantle. 

After leaving the open meadow, Hermione found herself taking a familiar path back into the forest, resting on the stone outside the fire-dwelling salamander cave. 

But despite how much time she allowed to pass, there was no sign of any of the little creatures.

Finally accepting she’d have to move on, she stood and continued carefully through the golden autumn ferns. 

The quick stamping of hooves stopped her, and her tenuous hold on her composure faltered as soon as she learned the identity of the approaching centaur. 

Aite gave a quick bow of her head as she paused in front of Hermione. “Oh good, I made it in time.”

She didn’t have the patience or mental space for false civility. “What do you want?”

Aite didn’t seem to take any offense. “To give you more information. She still withholds the truth from you.”

“She told me what I am," Hermione said, starting off again.

“Yes. But did she mention how quickly you are running out of time?”

She remained silent, but she did wait, an ominous sensation rising up her spine.

“I thought so,” Aite said. “Our omens are accurate. You have until the Dawn Celebration, when day and night are of equal length in spring.”

The ground shifted beneath her feet. “That’s less than a year from now.”

“Which is why you needed to be told. You must find the true mate meant for the Mother Omega. If you permanently mate with someone other than who we’ve seen in our omens, or if you choose not to mate at all, there won’t be enough magic produced by the bond. Without you, the future is clear.”

“I’m not sure I wish to know more.”

Aite showed no mercy, going on despite Hermione’s need for respite. “Humans will no longer exist as creatures of magic. This world will be lost to them forever.”

“I’m going to find another way," Hermione snapped.

“You’re willing to risk failure? Your friend is one of those weakened, is she not?”

“How do you know that?”

“Are you willing to risk her life? The omens are sure. If you refuse, she, and many others, will die.”

Without any offering of hope or compassion, Aite trotted off.

Leaving Hermione alone in her grief.

That evening, Neville and Theo waited for her at the Hogsmeade pub, both giving her a worried look as she fell numbly into the booth.

Theo turned to his mate. “You said they would approve.”

But Hermione answered before Neville had a chance. “They did. I’m free to do as I want.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Neville asked.

She stared between them, not focusing on either. She couldn't speak about what she'd learned. Not yet. She still hadn't processed it all. "I don't understand how everyone is just accepting it."

Both men shrugged, but Theo was the one who spoke, seeming to understand half of what she meant. "It’s magic. Things like this happen all the time."

“And you’re fine with having your choices taken from you?” She winced, shooting Neville an apologetic grimace after realizing her words could be interpreted as blame on his part. Regardless of how she’d only meant it towards the unfortunate situation. 

But Theo only smiled brighter. “I don’t actually feel as if they were. I had every confidence in my decision to choose him.”

“Right.” She nodded shakily. “I didn’t mean…”

“I get it, Hermione.” Neville stilled her hand where she’d begun unconsciously tapping against the wooden tabletop. “It’s never easy to become the subject of pivotal divinations. Have you asked Harry for advice?”

“I don’t want to dredge up his pain. He’s finally getting better.” The thought of him losing his wife made her pause her speech in an effort to stave off the intense bout of nausea. 

Neville took his hand from the top of hers to take Theo’s instead. “I’m not sure of how much you know of my past, but I’m here if you want to talk about it. I know what it’s like to be taken advantage of because the wrong person foresaw my fate.”

That got her attention. “There were more?”

"Than the prophecy naming Harry or me? Yeah. Pomona knew of the first. And she befriended Trelawney for the sole purpose of being near her to witness others. At least two that I know of. When I showed an aptitude for herbology, she offered to train me. To make me into someone they could use on our side."

She swallowed past the uncomfortable feeling in her throat. “I’m sorry…I know how much you once admired her.”

Theo’s expression darkened. "Sometimes I find myself wishing for a time turner. So I could go back and rescue us all. From Death Eaters and the Order.”

“If you ever find one,” Hermione said, “promise you’ll take me with you."

Hermione woke the next morning to an owl tapping against the window of her room at The Three Broomsticks.

She let Malfoy’s eagle owl in, still shaking from the previous day’s revelations as she read his letter.

You’re not home.

She almost smiled at how he’d gone back to starting the day with unnecessarily obvious statements. 

Almost.

She let his owl return her own note telling Malfoy she decided to stay a few more days. She didn’t include it was to figure out how to explain everything to him. And everyone else.

When she received his reply of, ‘Anything I can help you with?’ she could feel his defensiveness, and it triggered her own want for self-preservation. 

It took six attempts to craft an answer. 

I’d like your honest opinion, actually. Is it possible for prophecies to be wrong?

His owl’s trip back took even longer.

No. Misinterpreted sometimes. But never wrong. No matter how improbable we find the information to be.

It was what she already knew but hadn’t wanted to accept. And if Ginny’s and undoubtedly Pansy’s lives weren’t at risk, she likely wouldn’t have accepted it still.

Because it meant the peace she’d found with Malfoy and their undefined, easy, and burden-free time together had to be given up.

The omens were clear. 

Find the true mate meant for her as the Mother Omega or force the entire magical community into collective suffering and sentence their friends to death.

The responsibility hung over her head as it had so many times before, suspended by the most fragile of threads.

Her own personal Sword of Damocles.

Circular in nature. 

Divided by twelve.

And it never stopped fucking ticking.

Chapter Text

Even from a young age, Hermione’s single most hated nemesis had always been a frustrating lack of time. From overlapping course schedules to finding far too many books than could possibly be read in one person’s life to the wartime decisions her haste had twisted into haunting nightmares, there just never seemed to be enough of it.

But she’d found that when she was granted the time she needed, she could consistently cultivate an environment in which she thrived.

Or in the case of her most recent problems, at least one in which she could survive.

Four days hiding away at the inn in Hogsmeade had brought clarity, determination, and a renewed sense of purpose, the necessity of finding a permanent mate no longer a threat she had to escape but now something she actively wanted to pursue.

Something she’d decided she wanted.

Even if that want had nothing to do with romantic inclinations and was instead fueled by a desperation to restore the weakened magical world she loved.

Any other course would allow too much damage, and loss, the longterm extinction of wizardkind and their magic, keeping muggleborns from ever gaining the full actualization of justice that had only just begun after the war.

It would leave future generations to suffer through the even more painful consequences an inevitable decline would bring just as she was being forced to deal with the poor decisions made by her own predecessors.

She couldn’t be the reason for the cycle to continue. 

She refused.

Becoming like them would be a far worse fate than giving up hope of having a choice in who she would share her future with.

Of course, there was one voice of dissent. Her Omega seized every opportunity to criticize her refusal to view Malfoy as a potential mate. And every time it made her scoff aloud.

As if he’d ever consider such a thing.

She’d taken to reminding that new part of her personality how Malfoy had strategically used his leverage over her for the sole purpose of avoiding a mating bite, something Maia had said wouldn’t have been possible with the one Hermione was truly meant to be with. If the first rejection weren’t enough, the devastation on his face right before he’d fled from their cabin after her heat should have silenced any further protest.

The Omega was just confusing bonding compatibility with inordinately satisfying sex.

It would probably be similar with any suitable Alpha.

Right?

Shaking her head to clear it, she shoved the rogue thoughts into a crevice of her mind.

Hermione had everything sorted. 

She’d made a list of the people in her life that needed to know about everything the centaurs had said, about how she intended to go about searching for a—she had to force herself to think the word—mate, and how they were all going to keep the information as quiet as possible.

Unfortunately, the media made a mockery of her plans.

Her return home led her straight into a firestorm of journalistic frenzy. 

She’d barely been able to weave her way through the overcrowded atrium to get to her ministry office, where the incoming mail and interdepartmental memos were so bad her superior had sent her back home straight away.

Of course she’d procured a copy of the Daily Prophet during her escape. 

It was worse than she’d expected. 

Sprout had submitted an extensive field report from their study that Hermione had to wonder why the newspaper would even have any interest in publishing. But after reading through and finding the unprofessional addition of personal observations about their team, she grudgingly understood. 

There were several comments boasting of Zacharias’ capabilities, of Malfoy’s disruptive behavior, and of Hermione’s own refusal to work well with others. 

But that isn’t what had caught everyone’s attention. 

Sprout concluded the article by detailing the damage in the forest and connecting it to the people in their community who were sick, as well as listing the forthcoming consequences of inaction. 

Then, the woman had sealed Hermione’s fate of losing any semblance of peace by quoting Aite and telling all of Wizarding London that Hermione had been blessed with the role of Mother Omega, whose procurement of a lifelong mate was their only hope of restoration and of healing those who’d been weakened to the point of near-mortality. 

Smoke was still hovering in the air of her kitchen when the floo signaled the arrival of a guest, and she was afraid she knew exactly who had come in.

A glass shattered beside the sink, sending shards pinging across the counter and into the basin, and Hermione vanished the mess without even attempting to mend the victim of her accidental magic.

“Finally.” The voice she heard was not at all the one she expected. “Where’ve you been, Hermione?”

“Ron,” she said, taking in his disheveled appearance. “What’s wrong?”

“Ginny’s in critical care at Mungo’s. Harry wanted me to come get you as soon as you got home.”

Dread pressed in from all directions. “How long has she been in?”

He answered as they prepared to apparate. “Since this morning. She’s sedated, but, well, Harry needs you there.”

They arrived at the apparition point and soon reached the waiting room, crowded with mostly people with red hair.

Though while she waded through them to get to her best friend, she also spied Blaise Zabini on the far side of the space, leaning with his forearms on his knees, his murderous gaze locked onto her. 

She could still feel it even as she turned her back to pull Harry into a poorly reciprocated embrace. 

“What are they telling you?” She asked gently.

Harry sighed. “Not much. She’s losing magic faster than before. Stable…but they want to keep her until the morning to make sure she stays that way. Molly and Arthur took the visitation this time around. They should be out soon.”

As if on cue, the Weasley elders exited the closed off critical care ward with a group other visitors.

Hermione’s nervous system rioted when she noticed that Malfoy was among them, walking side by side with an equally neutral appearing Theo Nott. 

Theo held up a finger as if to say he’d be over to greet her in a moment, and Malfoy barely even acknowledged her, apart from a rapid scan from her hairline to her heels. Then they joined Blaise on the far side of the room.

It didn’t take long before Theo had made his way back to her side, offering his condolences to Harry and to Ginny’s family.

“How’s Pansy?” She asked, once he could focus on her again.

“She’ll be fine. Goes through this a few times a month. Ginny has a good bit of time before she gets to that point.” He bumped her shoulder with his own. “Thank you, by the way, for whatever you said to Malfoy to get him to speak to me again.”

“I don’t think I can take credit for that.” 

“Well he does give the credit to you. So thanks. Whatever it was, it worked.” Theo looked down at his overpriced muggle wristwatch. “I have to go. Getting final details flattened out for all my classes while I’m away. I’ll see you next week, alright.”

After saying their goodbyes, she sat between Harry and Ron, trying to gauge Harry’s emotional state as gently as she could. Overall, he wasn’t doing too poorly. 

She, on the other hand, felt ready to scale the walls, not only worried for Ginny, and Harry, and the others, but also anxious she’d be found by the media at any moment.

And if those weren’t enough, Malfoy’s presence—and necessary distance—left her feeling as if air particles were barely scraping their way down into her lungs.

Holding her self back as long as she could, she stood abruptly. “I need some tea. Anyone else?”

After receiving a few head shakes, she hurried off, passing Malfoy and giving him a quick glance she hoped he would notice as she turned down the long corridor to his side.

Because if she didn’t get what she needed to say to him off her chest she was going to suffocate.

She took the first empty room she found, sighing in relief when Malfoy followed in shortly after, shutting and warding the door behind him.

“Did you read it?” She asked, backing farther into the room.

“Yes,” he said, his voice so cold it left a physical chill on her skin.

He stalked towards her, until he caged her with his hands on either side of her waist, his head dipping slightly to better breathe her in.

She almost lost her nerve.

“Malfoy, wait.”

His hands dropped immediately, and he backed away, each step carving a sharper edge to his jaw as if the act caused physical pain. 

“Let me guess, now that they’ve threatened you with the fate of the whole fucking world, you’re suddenly willing to accept divination as the truth. What happened to your logic, Granger?”

His Alpha was angry. She could practically see it pacing back and forth in agitation through his eyes.

She had to swallow twice to answer. "It is logical to at least try to fix things. Do you think I want to look for a mate? I spent the last few days desperately searching for another option. As awful as it is, I don’t have a choice. So we should probably avoid…anything that will affect my pheromones."

"I see,” he said mildly, refusing to look at her. 

She ignored the cavern that opened in her chest, knowing she had no right to fault him for accepting it so easily.

Apparently Malfoy and his Alpha did not agree.

"It's...well, I thought about what you said. In your letter, I mean. About prophecy being true even when we don't want it to be. It’s what made me realize I allowed my hatred for divination to cloud my judgment. There's too much at stake for me to get this wrong. I was going to tell you first. I didn’t mean for you to have to read it in the papers.”

"No need to explain, Granger. We said we would end things when one of us didn't want to give anymore. I never asked you for permanence.” 

He still wouldn’t look at her, not even as he used his wand to open the door and walk away, leaving her alone and somehow feeling worse after getting exactly what she’d aimed for.

She returned to her seat beside Harry feeling as numb as he appeared, and he gave her a questioning look that she brushed off with a smile she knew he’d see straight through. 

But before she could smooth things over, several of the voices of those with them filled the space, a semi-civil discussion that she and Harry had missed.

Hermione looked over in time to see Molly nodding encouragingly. 

“Go on, Ronald,” his mother said, organizing a stack of parchment levitating around her. “Like we talked about.”

Hermione did not like the sound of that.

“Can we go somewhere?” Ron asked, the tips of his ears tinged red. “I need to ask you something. Harry, come along if you want.”

After finally agreeing, she followed Ron and a listless Harry to the empty corridor, pretending it didn’t bother her that Malfoy had dutifully turned away as she passed by where he’d again taken up his post beside Blaise.

“We’ve been discussing strategies for how to find you a mate.” Ron’s statement brought her attention back. 

Hermione opened her mouth then closed it again. “I…I’ve got it figured out for myself, thanks.”

“She’s getting worse. The sooner you do this, the better her chances are. It was my idea to bring in as many Alphas as are willing. You know, gather them all in one place so you can have your pick of the lot.”

She looked to Harry for help, refusing to believe he had any hand in it. And while he did seem disturbed by Ron’s ideas, she knew by his distant stare that he didn’t have it in him to fight for her. 

It was a sickeningly familiar sight.

“That’s not—”

“Mum’s been writing invitations to all the Alphas named in Witch Weekly since she read the Prophet article this morning.”

Oxygen suddenly became even more scarce.

For a moment it wasn’t Ron standing there, but Moody, his scarred face and charmed prosthetic eye a grim picture to match his callous demands.

She blinked, trying to sort through the conflicting images in her mind. “I…I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”

She didn’t know if Ron truly said it, but what she heard was, “It’s already decided.”

Tears collected in her eyes almost too quickly for her to spell them away before they could stream down her cheeks, stumbling over words that tasted stale in her mouth. “…m-muggles, they’re defenseless…” 

“What are you talking about?” Someone asked, sounding annoyed and vaguely submerged in water.

The world swam before her.

"Enough." A possessive touch settled on her neck, just long enough to snap her into the present before it disappeared once more, and she used the excuse of looking over her shoulder in mock surprise to gather herself completely.

“Alright there, Granger?” Malfoy’s tone was light but the threat of violence in it resonated down to her bone marrow.

“What do you care?” Ron spat, his posture shifting aggressively even though he’d taken two steps backwards at Malfoy’s initial harsh command.

Harry barely seemed to notice the interruption.

Malfoy, who had angled himself slightly in front of her, shrugged easily. “We worked together a few months back. One might say we’ve even become friends.”

“Hermione?” Ron sneered. “Friends with you? Should we call the healers to get you a room as well? Maybe a few floors higher?”

The slight raise of Malfoy’s brow was more intimidating than the blatant disdain on Ron’s. “I’m not the one insisting she harm herself to save anyone else.”

“It’s my sister.” Ron’s face turned nearly purple. “And Hermione’s going to do it anyway. We’re only trying to make the process a bit easier.”

“By forcing her to go through with it before she’s ready.” Malfoy’s voice took on an eerily calm quality. “When you have no right to demand she do this at all. She doesn't owe you her body or her magic, and you don't get to decide what’s best for her. It’s too far, Weasley. Beyond comensalism, it's become parasitical. And if you think she has no defenses against such, you certainly aren't prepared for what you'll encounter."

Ron’s humorless laugh made her shoulders pull inward. "What, you’re her protector now? That's a fucking joke, right?"

"Leave her alone or you'll learn the answer to that from personal experience."

Ron glanced towards a dazed Harry and then to the end of the corridor, where his family—including several older brothers—remained just out of sight. "You're outnumbered, Malfoy.”

Her own words weren’t nearly so subdued. “No he isn’t. Not when I am the deciding vote in what happens in my life.”

"You’re going to side with him?” Ironically, it was the first time Ron had shown any emotion during their conversation, hurt because of her resistance when he’d given no thought to how his plan would affect her. “He's using you, Hermione."

Exasperated, she scrubbed at her face. "Using me for what?" 

"How should I know,” he half-shouted back. “But he is. What else would he do? He’s an Alpha, right? Is that what this is Malfoy? Trying to convince her you’re on her side so you can take advantage of her because of what she is? Just like his father, always cozying up to those who have power because he’s too weak to stand for himself."

Malfoy tensed so violently, she could feel the vibrations of it through the air.

"Leave him alone,” she gritted out. “He’s nothing like Lucius.”

Harry blinked as if finally remembering his location. 

“And how would you know?” Ron studied her with disgust.

“Because as he already told you, we’re friends.” 

Malfoy had regained control, his hand warming her shoulder again, right over her scent gland. “And we’re leaving. Right, Granger?”

She nodded once, still glaring angrily at Ron. “Harry, send a message if you need anything.”

Ron blocked their path as she stepped forward. "You’re actually going with him?"

"Yes. I am.” She brushed by him, Malfoy following close behind. “He's the only one giving me the luxury of my autonomy. Out of everyone, you should understand that I've had enough taken from me."

They went directly to the apparition point, appearing in her home.

And the moment they arrived, she realized with rage how stupid she’d been. "Goddamn it." She gritted her teeth, her frustration overflowing in an imitation of a growl.

"What's wrong?"

She summoned her beaded bag, not wanting to take the time to pack when she already had everything she needed there. "I can't stay here.”

“Why?”

The forced urgency made her want to scream. “Harry and I, we didn't always make the best decisions after the war. He was self-destructive and I was...well, self-loathing. We set up our wards so that we would always be able to get to one another in a crisis, and it requires both of us to undo it. I know he isn't reacting now, but I can't face him once he snaps out of his own trauma. And I know if I stay here, he will be here as soon as he does.”

She groaned, surveying the room, making sure she didn’t forget anything. “Warding a hotel room is going to be an absolute bitch though. And not even foolproof with so many reporters. God, who knows what people will do to get to me now that I’ve been outed as the savior of the magical world.” Panic began to wash over her once more.

“There’s a simple solution.”

She looked up to see Malfoy leaning beside her mantle and watching the sparkle of embers from the gift he’d given her.

“Well please share it then.”

He refocused on her and gestured towards her fireplace as if it were his answer. "Stay with me instead."

Oh.

"I…no, I couldn't ask..."

"And you didn't.” He smirked. “I did.”

At her hesitation he went on. “You already spend a great deal of your free time in my library. What's the difference? There’s room enough we could easily fit a bed in there for you."

Her pulse was so embarrassingly loud she wondered if he could hear it from across her living room. “You’re serious?”

“My wards are likely the strongest in the country. Can you think of anywhere better to hide?”

She couldn’t argue with his logic. She offered the smallest of smiles, waving her hand. “Lead the way, then.”

Once they arrived in the protection of Malfoy Manor, the horrific scene that had unfolded at the hospital crashed into her again, and she found herself shaking on the sofa with her legs hugged tightly to her chest, Malfoy sitting beside her but not close enough to touch.

She wasn’t sure how much time passed before he finally spoke. "Why did you obliviate your parents?"

Her eyes snapped to his. "H-how did you know that?"

"You flinch at the word, Granger. You specified that they were gone to you.” His tone, which had been soft as if he understood the damage it could do slipped into razor sharpness. “What did they make you do?”

Tears fell, but she didn’t bother to vanish them. “I did it on my own.” Malfoy stilled to the point where she wondered if he could breathe. “I had spent a whole year warding our house, making sure they wouldn’t be left defenseless if anyone ever found it. We had protocols in place for when they needed to go out. They were safe. I-I made sure they were safe.”

She inhaled raggedly. “But in the end, it didn’t matter. Because I made the mistake of trusting the Order with all of the details of what wards I’d used and how to take them down. Moody wanted to use them to lure high ranking death eaters. I begged him not to, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Granger…”

“It wasn’t the enemy I had to fear finding them. It was my own side, the people I trusted. So I obliviated them and sent them away instead.”

Silence lasted for several moments.

“It's permanent.” Her voice broke on the word. “I knew that. I just didn't have time to think of a better option. They didn't give me time."

Her chest was collapsing, so she went along limply when Malfoy pulled her into his lap, arranging her to lie on his chest as his arms tightened around her.

But after a moment, she stiffened, the intimate but undeniably non-sexual nature of his hold making her unsure of how to endure it.

"Stop fighting me,” he said gently, his fingers brushing along her neck and shoulders. “You deserve comfort, Granger. You deserve to be treated with humanity. Especially by those who know how much you've sacrificed. If they won't give you that, well, you're stuck accepting it from me."

Even though she wasn’t sure if it was the right choice, she relaxed into him. "I need more time,” she said, comforted by the impossibility of having someone who understood. “I can't. N-not again. I don't care what the consequences are. I'm not doing what they want. The people I trusted, the ones who should have fought for me...they're once again the ones trying to force me to do things in a way that’s too much for me to survive."

"Your note,” he said, holding her even tighter. “I didn't know what you meant. I spoke from my own experience without thinking how it could affect you. I take it back. Fuck prophecies. Fuck anyone who doesn't see you for who you are. Anyone who doesn't know you don't need some fucking omens or star-readings to do everything you possibly can to take care of everyone. Down to the most fragile of creatures."

Even though she thought it might break her to say it, she did anyway. "I still plan to find my mate. Just...on my own terms."

She felt his nod against her hair. "I know."

"But I won't be used by them. Not anymore."

"Then don't be,” He said, the surety of his words a strength-giving promise. “Stay here as long as you want, where you’re safe, Granger. I don't give a fuck what they say. I’m going to make sure you have as much time as you need.”

Chapter Text

After Hermione had partially processed her grief, she had allowed Malfoy to coax her into a short tour, which she’d soon discovered was actually a ruse to get her into the kitchens for something to eat.

She’d grudgingly complied. 

Then they’d ended up in the manor’s library, selecting their respective research materials and settling out on the balcony in comfortable reading chairs they’d transformed from its stone benches.

She’d wanted to see the book he’d had with him in their cabin, which he had retrieved and handed over without hesitation, but when she’d asked why he’d chosen yet another title on divination, he’d diplomatically refused to provide a substantial motive.

Fine with his insistence on privacy, she’d gone about seeking the means to achieve her own goals. 

The longer she read, the more her worry began to creep back into her mind.

She finally put her book down with a sigh.“I should probably at least tell someone where I am, just in case I need to be reached for anything important. Ginny was still in critical care when we left.”

Guilt came back with a vengeance as well.

Malfoy tipped his head in agreement. "Anyone you'd prefer to inform?"

It chafed a little that the people she would normally choose were not currently an option. "Neville and Theo?"

"I don’t typically ask my owl to travel that far.” He lifted his wand, determination in the set of his jaw. “If this doesn’t work, I don’t want to hear a single word."

She bit back a laugh, realizing what he intended to do. “You don’t think we should floo over for a moment? Wouldn’t that be easier? We could always leave a note if they aren't home.”

He ignored her questions, focused intently on casting his patronus charm, and she watched in awe as the intimidating bright metallic form of a Hebridean Black burst forth and was soon perched along the stone railing, its massive wings tucked closed and arrow-tipped tail swishing in agitation as it awaited instruction.

Tearing her eyes from the beautiful giant creature to see why Malfoy had stalled, she found him staring at the dragon with surprised wariness.

Her mouth fell open slightly. "You've cast one before right?"

"Yes,” he said, his voice low and careful.

"But...?” She prompted.

Malfoy still hadn’t looked away from his magical creation. "It’s changed."

She couldn’t curb her curiosity. "From what?"

He stood and took a step forward. "A crane.”

She hummed her understanding. “When you gained your freedom?"

"Brightest witch," he murmured.

She knew he’d struggled finding a memory strong enough to cast one at school, but breaking away from the control his father and the countless other dark wizards had over him had obviously been sufficient. 

So much so he’d produced a corporeal figure. 

But what stood before them now, with its imposing size, sharp claws, and spiked spine, was the most impressive patronus she’d ever seen. 

She idly wondered if he'd altered the memory he used.

Finally regaining his composure, Malfoy completed his careful approach, speaking so quietly she couldn’t hear what message he’d chosen to relay. 

The dragon took flight, for a moment a breathtaking complimentary addition to the stone-carved ones dispersed among the grounds below.

They watched until they could no longer follow the spark of light in the sky.

"Why do you think it's different now?" She asked.

He returned to his seat beside her but still faced away. "I’m not sure."

“Do you think it’s because you’re an Alpha?”

“It’s possible,” he said. “But you kept your otter.”

She looked over at him. “You knew my patronus?

He shrugged easily. “Doesn’t everyone?”

She supposed that they did. "It's interesting how similar your new and old ones are to one another. Both comfortable on land and water and in the air. They both mate for life, you know. And represent loyalty and freedom. Add fire and some ferocity, and it’s almost like they’re the same, just amplified.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it yet.”

While she spoke, she couldn’t keep her eyes from drifting to the winding statue of his namesake. “The dragon...it's a good fit for you. I'd say it's an annoying product of self-fulfilling prophecy, but somehow I don't feel like that's true." 

He broke into a smug smile. “Wish I could see Theo’s face when it finds him.”

Seeing his fondness for their mutual friend when she was so used to only contempt made her feel light and happy. Like she could cast a patronus of her own. 

“He told me you said I helped mend your friendship. Though I can hardly imagine how.”

Malfoy made an amused noise. “I’d forgotten how much he enjoys meddling.”

She smiled at that. “What caused the rift in the first place.”

She almost failed to notice his muted sigh. “Something I didn’t understand at the time.” 

Believing it was all he wanted to share, she left the topic alone.

But Malfoy surprised her by continuing. “Pansy was supposed to be meeting me and Theo here, but she was late. It's Pans so we didn't think much of it. But while we were still waiting for her to show up, Longbottom's patronus flew in, saying he was injured in some accident in the Forest and needed help. We were opening the front gates when Pansy appeared, unconscious and bleeding out so badly I wasn’t sure we could save her. You can probably guess which of them Theo chose to run to.”

From what she knew of their past, he, Pansy, Blaise, and Theo were family, the only ones any of them had left, forged by their troubled pasts into something unbreakable. As much as she cared for Neville, she also didn’t fault Malfoy for his anger, and she pitied Theo for having to make such a choice. “So after I told you about his and Neville’s bond, you realized he couldn’t stop himself from going to his mate.”

“There does seem to be a great deal of compulsion involved.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “There does.”

It was something she was acutely aware of with her next heat right on the horizon. 

Which reminded her of something important. 

She grabbed her bag, opening it and rifling around inside. She finally had time to fix it, but she wasn’t going to risk attempting to or trying to summon anything until the most important items were safely on the outside.

She dug in all the way to her shoulder before panic began to set in. 

Something toppled and when she caught it, she felt the familiar binding of her message notebook. 

It made her anxiety climb even higher. 

She knew she shouldn’t look.

It was a bad idea.

Even if anyone had written, she was absolutely not ready to hear them out. 

She should just drop the thing into the useless pit that was her bag and move along.

Because she was apparently a masochist, she found herself pulling it out anyway. 

A quick glance let her know Malfoy had taken up his reading again so she flipped open her notebook to check for any sign of new writing. 

What she found made her instantly regret her curiosity.

Because nearly an entire page was covered. 

In penmanship undeniably belonging to Harry. 

Her best friend, who never once had spared more than two or three sentences in their correspondence.

And even that was typically a stretch. 

She read the letter once.

Twice.

Six fucking times. 

But no matter how much she wished for the contents to change each time, she had to admit to herself that they wouldn’t. 

Without even thinking, she let out a frustrated growl, ripping the page from the notebook and crushing it into a ball. She cursed and threw it over the edge of the balcony. 

“Something wrong?” Despite the lightness of his words, she still heard the underlying thread of protectiveness.

It convinced her to answer openly. “That was a letter from Harry. While he’s certainly making more of an effort than the others at tactfulness, he’s still asking me to consider allowing Molly to organize a parade of Alphas.” Her vision went spotted. “They already have several guests at the Burrow waiting for me.”

While Ron’s betrayal had cut deep, it had also been bearable, stabilized with minimal pressure applied to the wound. 

Harry’s broken indifference had been much the same.

But his complicity? It felt like having a severed limb. 

Bringing with it not only pain, but complete nothingness and loss as well. 

“He said it was for my protection as much as Ginny’s.” She gritted a derogatory name, crossing her arms and leaning back in barely controlled fury.

But then a sudden acute awareness of her surroundings had her sitting straight again, an exhilarating thrum at the true liberation she’d found coursing hot in her veins. 

A turn of her head showed that Malfoy watched her with the same caution he had his patronus, and it made her smile grow even more. 

“I think I just fully comprehended what staying in this fortress you call home means,” she said to him, “and that thanks to you, I’m already extremely well protected.” She closed her eyes, breathing in properly for what felt like the first time in ages. “So much so that I don’t have to worry about what they’re planning on my behalf at all. It doesn't matter how many of them agree. God, Malfoy, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before.”

His genuine look of appreciation at her statement erased all doubt that she’d made the right choice in staying with him.

And it made her come to a simple conclusion of what to do next.

Because she just wanted a little bit of time to not have to think about what she’d eventually be obligated to endure.

At least for a short while, she could recommit herself to doing things because they were what she wanted instead.

Digging through her bag again, she finally found the items she had been searching for before she’d been sabotaged by her notebook.

She lined the six small glass containers onto the table between their chairs then looked back up to find his book set to the side.

Malfoy raised a brow, self-assured and at ease as he studied her, but he made no comment about her array of unfamiliar liquids.

“They’re from my healer appointment,” she explained. “The one where you offered to let me research in your library.”

“What are they?”

She rubbed her palms on her knees. “They’re meant to suppress my heat. I had planned on taking them, but…”

His posture remained unchanged, but she didn’t miss the way his silver eyes lit with curious interest. “Is that what you want?”

She shrugged, trying her best to match his carefree attitude. “I’d like to hear your opinion, actually.”

His voice was somehow even rougher when he answered. “Don’t leave the decision to me, Granger. Unless you’re looking to test how your potions hold up against an incendio.”

She bit her lip to keep a semi-neutral expression. "You’re serious?"

His hint of a smirk transformed into a pulse-skipping smile. "Care to find out?"

She gestured teasingly towards the bottles. “Let’s see then.”

They were promptly engulfed by flames from Malfoy’s wand, and then all six of them vanished entirely.

She tried to stifle her light-hearted laughter but thoroughly failed. “Sensitive to heat exposure. Valuable information to have.”

He caught her hand, lacing their fingers together and drawing her from her chair. "Looks like we'll be spending the week doing a bit more than researching. Do you want to see if taking my knot before your heat starts this time makes it easier for you?”

“That sounds…” She let him pull her close, and then she took over, straddling his hips and lowering until she was pressed tightly against him. “…extremely practical.”

She waved her wand, vanishing their clothes, and his gaze fell to her exposed breasts, his hands sliding along her skin to brush over the sides of them.

“You know, Granger,” he said, arrogant as ever. “I can’t quite recall what reasons I had for disliking you in the past. You really aren’t so bad.”

She laughed again, not even trying to stop it. “Now that you’ve brought it up, I suppose you aren’t so bad either.”

He shifted, sliding his cock along where it was trapped beneath her, amusement lighting in his eyes. “Does that mean we truly are friends now?”

“Yeah—” she choked out, losing the ability to process oxygen mid-breath when he repeated his movement. “I’d like to think we are.”

Using his shoulders for stability, she rose, both of them watching as he swiped his thumb over the dripping head of his cock and helped guide it inside her.

She slid down slowly, savoring the insane pleasure after going far too long without it.

“Fuck…” he groaned when she finally sat flush against him, his eyes half-closed and hands holding firmly across her back. “You’re a very, very good friend.”

“Mmm.” She leaned in, nearly touching his mouth with hers as she circled her hips. “You’re…a good friend too, Malfoy. So…so good.”

Their conversation ended as their tongues became otherwise occupied.

He went on to prove himself to be an exceedingly generous friend as well.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, beginning her heat cycle already stretched around Malfoy’s knot and filled to overflowing with his come did make it easier for her. 

So much easier.

Her fever had still spiked, but the initial pain and desperation she’d felt during the first heat hadn’t occurred again, already soothed with the comfort of being cared for by her—

Well, by an Alpha. 

An Alpha that was exactly what she needed, she reminded herself. 

One she trusted. That had proven to not only know how to attend to her physically but somehow understood her emotionally as well. That respected her boundary of avoiding a mating bite.

One that was her friend. 

She couldn't fathom it ever getting any better.

Not once had he denied her anything she'd asked for. He had taken her as hard and as fast as she’d begged him to those first few hours, and then he'd apparated  them to his bed, where they'd been since, exploring one another’s bodies with attentiveness and patience as if they’d never touched before. 

It was exquisite, watching Malfoy internalize each reaction and plea as if his Alpha hadn’t already anticipated her every need. 

But despite countless orgasms and it only having been minutes since his knot had loosened enough for him to draw himself away to lie next to her on his bed, her nerves were sparking with wild energy. 

And wanting more.

Wanting things she would mentally file as 'fantasies for self-care use only' if she could just keep her Omega from dragging them to the forefront of her mind.

Malfoy interrupted another face-reddening thought by running his fingers along her scarred lower stomach. “Is what they wrote true?” His voice was dark and strained, and all she wanted was to feel it against her neck. Or her mouth. Or her thighs. “About the Dawn Celebration?”

Holding onto the sheets to keep from closing the space he’d created between them, she turned to find herself trapped in his razor-sharp silver gaze. “Aite said it was.” Bitterness edged onto her tongue. “It’s going to ruin the equinox for me forever.”

The bite of jealousy came with his response, a sharp contrast to the gentleness of his touch. “So the next time you’re in heat is when you’ll have to accept a mating bond.”

Her Omega cowered at his disapproval. And at how casually he was able to speak of it.

She’d known already. Of course she had. But she hadn’t wanted to think about how the unfortunate dates of her heat cycle would shorten her timeline by another month. “Why are you talking about this now?”

She knew she’d failed to keep the hurt from her question when Malfoy’s expression flickered too quickly for her to decide which read true, from frustration, to regret, to desire, to determination, until he finally settled on a familiar self-confident arrogance. Complete with a wolfish show of teeth that had her mind forsaking all thoughts save for ones of convincing him to get inside her again. 

“Because,” he finally answered, dragging her partially beneath him and leaning down close as if sharing a secret, “if this is our last one, Granger, well I think we owe it to ourselves to indulge in it fully.”

She chose not to hide her humor-tinged exasperation. “Are we not doing that already?”

He lifted his hand above them, inspecting the scarred reminder of his dark mark, while also giving her a show of the obscenely fit muscles of his arms and the rest of his upper body. “You tell me.”

“I…” Her thoughts dissolved into a tangle of meaninglessness, half distracted and half panicked, when he eased away and then rose from the bed entirely. “Wait—” Her whimpering cry echoed throughout the room.

“Shh, it's alright,” he said, moving towards his closet and disappearing inside. When he re-emerged, he wore black trousers and was pulling his matching undershirt down over his abdomen. “I’m not going anywhere you aren’t.”

“W-what are you doing?”

“Something wrong?” He came to stand over her, blocking where she’d been tracing the patterns of rain against the windows. “You gave the impression you liked my attire when we were in the forest together.”

“I did,” she said, propping up on her side, her irritation tempered by his unabashed perusal of her naked body. “But right now it’s an inconvenience.”

He crouched beside the bed so they were eye level, his forearms resting on his knees, his eyes sparking with amusement. “And why is that?”

She nearly growled. “You know why.”

He brushed his thumb along her bottom lip, not appearing the slightest bit chastened as he stood to his full height, towering over her and tipping her head back with a grip to her chin. “I want to know what your Omega wants that you’ve decided not to ask for. You may be able to hide it from me, Granger. But my Alpha knows. And it's making me curious to learn what you’re reluctant to share.”

Her entire being flushed with heat. “I assumed it would be best to remain somewhat...logical. It's easier now...since we know why everything is happening. Last time...we both nearly..." Even with the brief prelude into clarity, the bone-deep desire for his bite threatened to overwhelm her. "Are you sure it would be wise for us to give in to it?”

“I obviously don't mean that.” He gritted the last word through clenched teeth. 

In her current condition, it might as well have been a hex. One she only shook off the sharp sting of by reminding herself that she wanted him to remain in control of that particular impulse.

“But my Alpha is demanding I ask for more." He must have noticed her distress because he spoke gently, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her to his lap, her bare arse against his covered thigh leaving her feeling utterly vulnerable, even more so when the fabric beneath her became soaked through with the wetness from between her legs. "Because it doesn’t just want to pacify your Omega. It's desperate to satiate it. To take care of you in all the ways you need.” 

"Oh..."

He moved from where he whispered roughly against her ear to scrape his teeth against her neck, causing her to lose every single previous reservation. “Are you going tell me how I can do that?”

“I will,” she answered, lacing her fingers with his where he’d splayed them against her thigh, gasping her relief when he let her bring their joined hands high enough to grind against. “If you go first.”

He nipped at the same spot on her neck. “Thought you’d say that. Which is why I’ve dressed for the occasion.”

“Alpha,” she begged, letting go of some of her control. “I want to know how to please you, too.”

He switched the angle of their hands, pressing the heel of his hard into her clit as she continued to rub. “I want to chase you, Omega.”

Her breath began rushing out in harsh pants while even more warmth dripped down their fingers.

"Fuck, you're drenching me in your slick at the thought." His low curse built her anticipation even more. “Does my little dragon wish to play along?”

Licking her lips, she nodded, not trusting her ability to look at him without embarrassment at just how much of a mess she'd created because he'd wanted something she'd been too unsure about to ask for. "My Omega has been begging me to run."

Something flew to his free hand as he cast a summoning charm, and she made pitiful noises when he left the space between her thighs empty to slip another one of his shirts down over her until it bunched at her waist.

“Good. Because I'm going to wait right here. And you’re going to go find a clever place to hide.”

“Is there…" She had to pause to catch her breath. "Anywhere I should avoid?”

He gathered her hair from beneath the neckline, skimming her scent gland and leaving her burning all over. “I wouldn’t have let you in my home unless I knew it was completely safe for you.”

His protectiveness had her staggering to her feet, adjusting his shirt down over her legs as she backed towards the door. “What will you do once you find me?”

Malfoy looked at her like he might not let her take another step before he set off after her. “Give your Omega free rein, and I’ll do anything you’d like me to.”

She barely forced herself to turn away.

Weaving through the manor at random to leave her scent in as many areas as possible, she finally reached the place she'd planned to go to the moment Malfoy had proposed his idea. 

Stepping out into the gardens felt amazing, the cold rain a balm to her overheated skin, refreshing her strength so she could run even faster.

Until she she found herself surrounded by a maze of overgrowth and towering stone-carved dragons.

Slowing to admire the life-like statues was entirely subconscious, but as she passed each new species, she swept the area for an acceptable place to hide.

She'd just ducked beneath the scaled underbelly of a Swedish Shortsnout into an open circle of tall grass when Malfoy's dark but muted voice sent her heart rate into an adrenaline induced nervous flutter.

“Using the rain to your advantage, very good strategy."

As silently as she could manage, she sprinted the opposite direction, slipping through breaks in the hedges and ivy until her path became blocked by the giant coiling body representing the Draco constellation. 

Much too tall to climb, she followed along the side of it instead, slipping behind the largest spiral, her back molding to the surprisingly smooth surface, one of the dragon's sharp-tipped horns high above her head covering her from the downpour.

"But you were never going to win this game."

She froze at how close he'd gotten, right on the other side of where she'd hidden.

Breath shuddering in and out, she kept herself close to the statue as she crept sideways, ready to dart around the fierce open jaw to whatever lied beyond. 

By some miracle, she managed to make it to where she stood at the mouth's entrance, glancing over her shoulder to see she'd been successful while breaking into a sprint as she rounded with the plan to follow along the reptilian monument's other side.

She ran full force into something solid.

The jarring surprise caused her to stumble backwards, and she likely would have fallen had she not been steadied by hands she'd become intimately familiar with. 

She looked up to find Malfoy's gaze locked onto her, his predatory intent twisting her middle into a web of restless anticipation.

He stalked forward, her urge to flee still present enough to spur her corresponding retreat until she was forced to step over stone-carved teeth.

Into the waiting mouth of the dragon.

He followed in after her, their rain saturated clothing and hair spotting the surface with dark gray, as he caged her in until she was trapped between him and the beast's wide outstretched tongue. 

Her chest heaved. "Alpha...please."

She was done playing. 

She wanted to be devoured. 

And when he finally pressed his body roughly into hers, his hold possessive and his mouth harsh where he sucked and licked along her skin, she felt very much like she was about to be. 

He lifted her and sat her on the semi-flat surface, shoving her legs wide so he could fit himself between them, his mouth meeting hers until the were both gasping for air. 

He drew back just enough to look at her, his thumb running along her cheekbone as he held her in place. "You were perfect. So perfect. But nothing in existence could keep me from you when you’re like this, my Omega."

The fabric of the shirt she wore gave a series of snaps and fraying protests as he yanked it from beneath her arse and then lowered to kneel before her.

“Fuck, Granger.” He hooked his hands under her knees to pull her legs up over his shoulders, and even the new position hadn’t prepared her for the hot slide of his tongue from where her arse met the stone surface beneath her all the way to the middle of the scar traversing her lower stomach. The cry that left her throat as he grazed her most sensitive spot was still ringing in her ears. 

"Alpha..."

His lips brushed against her stomach as he spoke. “So fucking good, Omega. How you look...feel...taste...I'm losing my goddamn sanity over you." He kissed along the line of her imperfect skin. "Can hardly believe you're mine.”

She knew it was only the strange intersection of their magic, but it was still extraordinarily pleasing to hear. And she let the Omega answer without thinking because of it. "Yes...yours. Yours, Alpha."

He growled through another long lick along her center, and then his mouth closed over her clit, sucking against her roughly while working his tongue in a rhythm that made her arch against him, her fingers tangling into his wet hair and pulling hard. 

It only provoked him.

She completely lost herself in the sensations, in how he lapped at her cunt like he was starving for it, like he needed her slick to sustain his life force.

He made her come over and over until she hung listlessly above him. 

"...knot, please..." she mumbled, and it finally persuaded him to slow.

She let him flip her to her stomach, her fingers curling around the smooth edge of the stone as she listened to him unfasten his belt. 

They made matching groans as he entered her, his piercing and harsh thrusts belying his own desperation to come.

It left her reeling, needing an outlet for the uncontrollable urge to do what they'd both assured one another they wouldn't.

A pained whimper left her throat.

"Here," he gritted, sliding his forearm in front of her, until it brushed right up against her lips.

She kissed the damaged skin there before sinking her teeth in with gentle pressure.

He cursed, his pace faltering briefly. “Harder. Leave a fucking mark. I’m so goddamn tired of seeing what they did. Give me something that reminds me how good I can feel instead.”

She wasn't sure she should.

“Harder or I’ll stop.”

She bit down with more strength, her only thoughts to give him what he wanted.

“Fuck, that’s it. So perfect. Gonna give you my knot for being so fucking good for me, Omega. Don’t let go.”

But when she registered the metallic taste of blood, her mouth fell open on a gasp at having hurt him, her tongue instinctively swiping over the wound she'd created in an attempt to soothe it.

He pulled his arm from her as he backed away, and she stood to face him in confusion.

He gave her an unapologetic smirk. “I told you I would."

She expected more frustration from her Omega, but it was surprisingly docile as she approached him, running her hands over his chest, the wet material clinging so tightly she could trace the raised scars traversing his front as she spoke to him gently. "You've endured enough pain. I don't want to cause more of it."

Actually, she wanted the exact opposite. 

She lowered slowly to her knees. 

“Granger…” 

She tipped her head back to meet his dark gaze. "Are you going to deny me?"

"No."

She smiled, wrapping her fingers around his cock and giving him a leisurely stroke. 

He bit out a curse, grabbing a fistful of her wet hair, and his breathing turned harsh when she licked up the length of him, pausing to lap at the fresh drips of arousal flowing from his tip before she sucked him into her throat properly.

“Fuck...Omega…”

She used her mouth and hands to move up and down his cock, showing him the same desperate hunger he’d shown her before, swallowing against him with each thrust as more drops of liquid spilled into her mouth.

She would never get enough of the addicting taste.

His come was going to leave her intoxicated.

But before she was able to savor the full flow of it, he used his hold on her hair to pull her away, leaning down to gather her against him as he carried her back into the rain for a moment and then fell into a sitting position, sliding his cock back inside her and thrusting from beneath. 

They were both cursing and shaking through their orgasms in only minutes, his knot seemingly even more substantial than usual as they caught their breaths in what she could now see was an intimate seating area recessed in a stone wall.

She finally lifted her head from Malfoy’s shoulder. “How’s your arm?”

So close to him, it was easy to notice his challenging look. So she wasn’t surprised when he answered accordingly.

“Fucking fantastic.” He rested his head back against the stone, a lazy smile on his face.

But before she could chastise him, she noticed the carving to his side, such an accurate depiction of a fire-dwelling salamander, she would have thought it real had its color not blended into the surrounding grey surface.

“Well that’s adorable.”

He turned a little, following her gaze. “Thought you’d like that. Seems whoever made these was adamant about including every species of dragon. Even the little ones.”

She smiled, lying against his shoulder once more as he cast a drying charm over them both, making them even more comfortable as they waited for his knot to loosen enough to allow them to move. 

Her eyes drifted closed. "I think this might be my new favorite place here."

"Yeah," he said. "Mine, too."

It was dark by the time Malfoy had apparated them back to his room, both of them having fallen asleep to the lulling sound of rain.

But as soon as they returned, the atmosphere between them became charged anew with heavy anticipation.

Malfoy stripped the too-big shirt from her body. “Would you like a bath now or after your turn?”

Crawling into his bed, she stretched out onto her stomach. “Later, please.”

It didn't take long before his clothes were discarded and he was climbing in beside her. "I hoped you'd say that."

She inhaled deeply, breathing him in, and then she relinquished full control to her Omega. "I can ask you for anything?”

His fingers were already tracing the line where her arse cheeks met her thighs. “Yes.”

“I want you inside me." Arching her back, she raised her hips a bit in display, hoping he understood her meaning. "Here.”

His teasing touch turned aggressive. “Fuck...Fuck. You cant just present your arse to me while I'm like this. Have you ever even taken it this way?"

She almost lost her nerve, and she likely would have if it weren't for the stream of thick fluid that dripped onto the back of her thigh, providing the proof maybe he wanted to try it too.

"No, but I think I might need it." Enough that she was quite prepared to beg.

"Need?" He said, his deep voice strained. "You or your Omega?”

A desperate sound left her throat as her hips canted impatiently. "Both. And was it not my Omega you wanted me to listen to?"

"Fuck me, that's an excellent point."

Curiosity overwhelmed her judgment. “Have you ever...?”

“No.”

“Oh.” Maybe she'd been wrong before. Or at least should have checked first before surprising him. 

She shifted to turn back to her front.

But a possessive grip of hands at her waist kept her from being able to move.

“I said I never have, not that I’ve never wanted to.” He reached across her to open the drawer in the table beside his bed, producing the magazine photo of her and setting it on the pillow. She’d forgotten it captured her mostly from the back. “This has been infinitely inspiring…had me imagining claiming you every possible way you’d allow." He leaned over her so that his words were spoken into her hair, his cock hard and spilling more cool droplets against her skin. "You’d be disturbed to learn the depth of my depravity when it comes to your body, Granger.”

“So sure…” She twisted so she could see him as she shook her head, doing her best to imitate one of his smirks. “Maybe you’ve found a companion in it.”

“Fucking christ, don’t encourage me. This isn’t something we should rush.”

“Under normal circumstances, no. Absolutely not. But I’m an Omega, Malfoy, my body altered for the purpose of satisfying an Alpha. Just as yours was remade for someone like me. I got it wrong at first. I thought the compulsion came from a need for genetic preservation. But the more I learn, the more I realize it’s a symbiotic exchange of our magic, one based entirely on pleasure. If we both want something, it’s highly likely our bodies are specifically prepared for it already.”

“Fucking for days on end does defy typical human limitations.”

“Mmm. See, I’m right.”

“As you often are. Fuck...I'm learning to appreciate that about you.”

Her breath caught when he pulled her hips higher, but he didn’t touch her where she expected. Instead his fingers brushed between her spread thighs to her clit, rubbing until she could feel her slick arousal covering his palm.

His touch disappeared, but the wet sound of his fist stroking his cock had her nearing another orgasm almost as surely.

“W-why are you doing that?”

He made an amused noise. "Well I’m not going to risk knotting in your arse, am I?” 

Probably something she should have thought about…

Her thoughts dissolved as he finally gave her a slick-drenched preview of unfamiliar pressure against her arse that had her biting back a cry.

His cock rubbed against her as he continued to fuck his hand. “I’m coming right here. Where it can soothe you as I ease myself inside. That way, if you’ve misjudged and need me to stop, I’ll still have marked your arse as mine.”

At that, a strangled cry did escape, apparently prompting his fist to move faster.

“Fuck...My cock and my come inside you for the first time.” His groan was one of presumed agony. “This memory’s going to leave my sanity in fucking ruins, Granger.”

She couldn’t help but whimper through an agreement.

He rubbed the thick head of his cock over her arse again, increasing the intensity and drawing curses from them both. 

“Oh…oh god…”

His answer was mostly growled. “I'm fairly sure those pretty little sounds belong to me.” 

“Alpha,” she whined. “Please...It’ll feel good. So…so good.”

He gritted curses above her as he started to come, bathing her in so much of it, she could feel it pouring over her cunt, down to the insides of her knees. All while his cock remained pressed tight against her arse. 

She shook violently beneath him. "Alpha, please, please, please, take it. Take what's yours..."

He edged inside just a bit, a final shock of his orgasm and the abundance of his come making the intrusion easy. So much so she pushed back, meeting his agonizingly slow thrust until she felt his thickened knot blocking her from going any farther. 

He made a choked sound. "You're alright?"

She hummed a positive reply, her breathing harsh between her words. "But I'll feel even better...if you keep moving. I'm going...to come."

His thrusts were careful. 

And gentle to a maddening degree. 

Bringing her to the edge of something undiscovered and all-consuming.

Her Omega reveled in it.

In how perfectly her Alpha took care of her.

How he'd claimed her body in every way, freely giving of his own, his praise, his come, even his magic. 

She could feel his power running through her as surely as she could feel his weight increasing as he coiled around her, his hand wedging between her stomach and the mattress, seeking her cunt while his cock moved a little faster inside her arse.

It only took a few moments of his fingers circling over her clit before she came, a cataclysmic burst of ecstasy that wracked through her entire being before it pooled inward, her singular point of focus on the molten waves of intensity still crashing into her middle. They grew even stronger when he pinned her down, the barely contained jolts of his hips in time with his growled curses increasing her pleasure tenfold at knowing it had spurred on another of his orgasms at the same time.

"Omega," he breathed, his head buried against her scent gland, "my perfect Omega." Pulling himself out slowly, he moved her so her back fit against his chest, his fingers steady as he still rubbed soothing circles over her clit. "Please let me take care of you now. I want to bathe you. And feed you. And keep you safe. Want to give you anything you need."

"Mmm..." She could barely follow along with his sentences. "Sounds nice..."

"You never choose yourself," he murmured against her neck. "Please...please. Let me."

Letting their respective Alpha and Omega take over had sent them both into a haze of lust-driven pursuits.

Just as Malfoy had suggested, they had thoroughly indulged.

She would run through the manor with him following close behind, and then he'd drag her to the floor and take until she was stretched around his knot wherever he happened to catch her.

Or he would demand she lie in his bed and make her cry through orgasm after orgasm on his tongue and his fingers until her Omega was sobbing and begging to be allowed to please him too.

They'd also spent an indecent amount of time in his bath, where he had washed and massaged her skin as she sat trapped by his cock, so blissed-out she accepted every bite he fed her from the tray he'd retrieved from the kitchens and drank from glasses of juice she highly suspected had been spiked with vitamin and rehydration potions.

It all made her thankful for the Omega, for its ability to accept every single decadent offer of comfort and pleasure and care. 

All while she had curled into herself in the corner of her mind, starkly reminded just how broken she'd become that having someone who treated her with decency and softness was threatening to send her into an emotional collapse.

So maybe that was why even after her fever had subsided, after they had cleaned themselves and changed the bed linens—again—Hermione had somehow found herself back inside Malfoy's bed, naked and lying across his chest as they both recovered from multiple days worth of physical and mental exertion.

But as much as she didn't want it to end, she'd known before they began that it couldn't last forever. 

"We forgot..." she finally said quietly, "to make a place for me to sleep in the library." 

Surely he had a room for guests. 

She could hear the amusement in his sleep worn voice, his arms tightening around her slightly. "You've been in my bed all week. What's one more night?"

Since he'd made no effort to move, she certainly wasn't going to, her exhaustion overriding her pride. "I can't logically argue with you there. Not to mention, it's stupidly comfortable."

His quiet laughter woke her from near-sleep. "I fucking swear, all the insane things I've survived in my life, and that logic of yours will be what finally succeeds in ending it."

Half offended, half entertained, she picked her head up to look at him. "There's nothing wrong with my logic."

He brushed her curls back where they'd overtaken an entire side of her face. “Yeah there is, and you know it. It disregards one of the first things we ever learned. Magic is ruled by intention.”

"Well of course I know that too," she said, growing more serious. "It's what made me realize how awful to you I was being when I accused you of trying to harm a unicorn. After Neville told me about you finding a cure for Pansy, I knew it would be useless for you to take the blood by force. It will only heal if it's freely given."

"It took me ten fucking hours of research to understand that. Too bad my book doesn't mention how to convince them to give away their blood."

"I told you I would help. We have two more weeks in the Forest, and this time we won't be restricted to such a small area. We'll figure it out."

He was quiet for several moments.

"I assume you're going to want to take the time we're spending there to allow your pheromones to go back to normal?"

She put her head back against his chest to hide her face, willing confidence into her voice. "That does seem practical."

And unbearable.

Her mind, her body, her magic…it was all tangled into his. So thoroughly she worried it couldn’t be undone without breaking some of the delicate threads. 

The fear of being forced into severing all of them threatened to strangle her.

“You’ll still be my friend, won’t you?” She nearly choked on the rest, unsure she wanted to hear his reply. “Even if we can’t do…this anymore? It would be horribly unfair to lose you because of some idiotic prophecy.”

His heavy sigh ghosted against her temple and through her hair. “Yeah,” he said, trailing his fingertips along her spine, easing the tension she hadn’t even realized she’d let show. “I’ll still be your friend. It’s not dependent on what you do for me, especially not where your body is concerned.”

“Oh—good…” she breathed, allowing herself to relax into his touch, his reassurance loosening the restraints around her throat. “Because I still want to be your friend." Closing her eyes, she curled herself even more comfortably into him. "I really like you, Draco.”

His fingers—and his rising abdomen—went still the second his name left her lips, and he was silent for so long she thought he purposefully made the decision to ignore her.

But his frozen inactivity ended a moment before she leapt to cover the mistake.

His words were so soft she could barely hear them, especially when the renewed circuit of his fingers against her skin began to lull her back into a dreamy state. “I like you too, Granger.”

She smiled, nuzzling closer, perfectly at home atop his chest and blissfuly able to put all her troubles aside for a little longer.

Falling into a peaceful sleep, she dreamed of a world without prophecy. 

Chapter Text

"The monstrosity flew right through the castle wall.” Theo said. “Made such a show once it was in my classroom I should have known who it belonged to then. You’re lucky my students had all gone for the day or half of them would have erupted into a fit of accidental magic. Even without that potential disaster, I still wound up injured.”

"He fell out of his desk chair,” Neville said, and Hermione assumed by his humor that the incident hadn’t caused any actual harm to his mate.

“Since when do you have a bloody dragon?” Theo asked, turning to Draco while still appearing quite put out and rubbing at an invisible injury on his hand.

Draco did not in the slightest hide his amusement at Theo’s recounting of events. “You were the first to see it. Well, after Granger, of course.”

In an attempt to cover the blush caused by his self-satisfied smile, she rushed to move on before anyone commented on why the patronus had been needed in the first place. “We wondered if it changing had anything to do with him being an Alpha. Have you noticed that with anyone else?”

“Ours are the same so we didn’t think to check. I’ll add it to the list of survey questions. Is yours different?”

“No,” she said. “It’s possible it’s unrelated. They’ve been known to change to suit their caster’s personality so that could be what we’re dealing with instead.”

She and Draco had arrived in the same circle of Scots Pines as their first trip to the Forbidden Forest, and it hadn’t taken more than a few seconds before Theo had charged over, complaining loudly about the magical dragon that had interrupted his charms classroom the week before while Neville looked on with fond exasperation. 

Slytherins clearly held on to their tendency towards being dramatic even in adulthood.

Finally finished airing his grievances, Theo took Neville’s hand. “We’re going to go get settled in. Can’t believe I let you all talk me into staying out here.” Theo shivered visibly before he and Neville started off for their shared cabin. 

Which only brought attention to the topic she’d been dreading having to discuss since they’d arrived. 

“And where will I be staying?” Draco asked, the taunt in his voice letting her know that he knew exactly how troublesome she found the situation.

“Well,” she answered, needing a moment to calm her breathing. “When I planned everything, I’d assumed we would stay together...but I can move to a different cabin. Or you can. Whichever you’d prefer. Or—” She snapped her mouth shut at his growing smirk.

“No, finish what you were saying.” He looked down at her with feigned seriousness. “Or what?”

Finally giving up her struggle to organize her thoughts, she opted for telling him the truth. “I’m still comfortable staying together if you are, even with the…situation being what it is.”

He shrugged easily. “Yeah, alright. That’s fine.”

Grateful he hadn’t made a big deal about her asking him to stay with her, she relaxed, smiling up at him. “Same territories as before?”

He smirked back. “Whatever you want. You’re the one in charge, princess.”

She laughed but playfully scowled at him. “And here I was, thinking you’d given up on being such an arse all the time.”

“What, and deprive you of the pleasure you get from it?” Cradling the back of her neck in his giant palm, he guided her in the direction of their cabin. “I wouldn’t dare.”

The calm from his touch felt so good, she didn’t even attempt to pull away.

But before they were able to reach their joint living space, they were interrupted along the path.

By someone who should not have been there. 

“Harry,” she breathed, her feet stuttering a good distance away, causing Draco to pause with her. “What are you doing?”

Harry fidgeted with the handle of his broom as he braved a quick glance towards Draco and then back towards her. “I’m here to apologize. About the letter I sent...I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Hermione couldn’t find a scrap of sympathy for him, her words bland and flat. “How mad was she when she woke up?”

Harry winced, answering her question with a sad tone. “Threatened to leave me if I didn’t fix things between us. But I swear, Hermione, I would have realized it on my own. I…” His eyes flicked to her side again. “You don’t deserve to be used.”

She looked up to find Draco’s jaw clenched tight and eyes an icy silver. She flattened her palm to his chest on instinct. “Give us a minute.”

“Fine,” he said, dropping his arm and then stalking down the path without another word.

After he was gone, Harry relaxed a bit. “She’s still not talking to Ron or Molly. Says she’ll never go back to the Burrow. Of course, that was after all the Alphas there woke up to a rather nasty itching hex that activated in their clothing as they got dressed.”

Well at least that wasn’t too bad. The cure for it was a simple topical potion.

After obviously reading the relief on her face, he grimaced. “The clothes were charmed so they couldn’t remove them. And she added a protective barrier against the antidote, too. Even at Mungo’s, it took ages to undo it.”

Harry’s laugh was one part nervousness and one part awe at his wife’s ingenuity, and Hermione couldn’t help her own lightened mood curtesy of Ginny Weasley’s clever servings of justice.

“It also turns out that I’m an Alpha.”

“Oh—And Ginny?”

“Definitely Omega. We don’t know how it will affect her yet, if she’ll have the same kind of reactions while being sick. We…tried completing the mating bond, thinking maybe it would make her stronger, but it seems I have to bite her when she’s in heat.”

She could have told him that. 

Harry filled her in on how the rest of the Weasleys took the development, which was better than she’d expected for all except Ron, who’d taken his own lack of changing biology personally. Something that hadn’t surprised her in the slightest.

They were still discussing how to diffuse their friend’s envy when she saw Draco walking back along the path in their direction, stopping when he reached them and giving her a not so subtle once over.

Harry made an odd face but thankfully didn’t say anything.

“Would you mind getting everyone started?” She asked Draco, pleading wordlessly for him not to resist. “You know all of the details as well as I do. It won’t take me long to join you.”

“Sure, Granger.” He flashed a smile that made her flush with warmth. “Whatever you need.” Then he continued on towards the rest of their group.

As if the possessive way he looked at her hadn’t been enough, the low promise triggered an intolerable ache along her neck and in her middle. 

So much so that she didn’t notice she’d stared after him until Harry drew her focus back with a cough.

"Why do you smell like—oh...”  Harry grinned quite maniacally. “You’re having sex with him. That makes much more sense. I thought you were embracing the outdoors a bit too enthusiastically at first.”

“What?” That was her brilliant response.

“Malfoy,” he said, getting closer so he could speak a bit more quietly. “He’s all over you. Even stronger than him walking by. Just like at the—oh this is fantastic news. How long has it been going on?”

She crossed her arms, deciding she might as well get it over with. She knew how her longtime friend could get when he wanted information. “Since my first heat.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because there wasn’t much to tell. We had a…physical agreement. But not any more. I’m trying to reset my pheromones now that I have to deal with, you know...everything. So we’re just friends.”

“Right, yeah…and how long have you been just friends with him?”

She made a distressed sound, and her voice was small as she answered. “Since yesterday.”

“Thought so,” he laughed. “I guess that explains why he looked like he wanted to avada me. Not that I blame him. Wait…” Harry stepped closer, his gaze roaming over her face. “You like him?”

Her mouth opened and closed several times as she tried to reply. “He’s been…he’s helped me. You saw how he defended me against Ron and their idiotic plan. I know it’s hard to believe, but he seems to genuinely care about my feelings. And that doesn’t even account for the phenomenal—” She cleared her throat, realizing what she’d almost let slip and then whispered a cooling charm over herself. “Of course I’ve begun to like him as a person.”

“I meant it as more than that. I’ve known you for a long time, you know.”

Hermione covered her face with her hands and groaned. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m being forced to mate with someone I don’t even get to choose. Even if I did want to see where this leads, there isn’t a future between me and Draco.”

Harry’s eyes went wide at her use of their former enemy’s given name, but his smile grew even larger. “When are you planning on telling Gin? This will make her forget all about being so angry with me.”

“Hmm, you’re right about that,” she said, shooting him her best impression of her Slytherin accomplices. “I’ll tell her after you’ve done your groveling.”

Harry grimaced. “I deserve that, don’t I.”

“You absolutely do.”

“I’m sorry, Hermione. I told Molly I wouldn’t be a part of it anymore. And that if she tried anything like it again I’d support Gin in cutting her off for good. I know I fucked up, and it will take time before we’re alright, but will you let me earn your forgiveness, too?”

“Fine,” she drew out the word. “I couldn’t stomach being the reason you and Ginny remained divided anyway. Now go home and take care of her so I can try to do the same.”

“Right.” He mounted his broom, his expression one of shame once more. “I…well…she has the notebook. I doubt she’ll let anyone else touch it while you’re here so it’s safe for you to use it.”

After somewhat strained goodbyes, Hermione watched Harry become smaller and smaller until she finally lost his flying form behind the forest trees. 

She felt better.

And worse. 

Better because Ginny had done even more for her than she had expected to be possible, finding enough power within her depleted magical reserves to wield it against those who sought to take advantage of the frustrating circumstances.

And she supposed having Harry on her side once more felt better as well.

But it also reminded her of how quickly he and the others had turned against her before. 

And it left her with an uneasy feeling at being reached so easily despite her secluded location.

She’d have to talk to Maia about taking precautions.

Halfway to their designated meeting place, she met an ethereal and almost glowing Luna Lovegood, dressed in ivory robes, her waist length pale blonde hair left loose. 

Had Hermione not seen the recent photo in the Witch Weekly interview, she might not have recognized her.

“Oh, hello, Hermione.” The witch smiled brightly, but then her cheerful expression fell. “The trees are sad here.”

At one time, the far-off stare and disturbing statement would have grated on Hermione’s nerves, but she couldn’t deny the fact that Luna was likely correct. “They are,” she agreed. “I’m glad you’re here. Sorry for being late to our initial gathering. Did Draco explain?”

“He did. We all understand.”

A stream of something serene yet playful poured over her mind, carrying some of her fears farther away.

It caused a sharp intake of breath. “Huh, that’s odd,” Hermione said.

“What is?”

“I can feel your magic.”

Luna tilted her head as she peered down, making Hermione wonder if all Alphas were so tall. “Well of course you can. I’m giving it to you.”

“On purpose?”

“Yes.” She nodded once. “You look quite tired, Hermione, but I’ll ask next time if it makes you more comfortable.”

Searching for an excuse and coming up empty, she settled on a sheepish smile. “I would appreciate if you did.”

A friendly expression graced Luna’s face as well. “I shouldn’t have assumed. With what you are, you aren’t able to control what magic you send out. It’s your nature to give to all. I only meant to reciprocate.”

“Mine’s noticeable? That it’s me I mean?”

“Oh absolutely. It’s quite nice, nurturing too. Not very fair to you though if I only take. I think I’ll keep my distance while I’m here unless you change your mind. Thank you for inviting me, Hermione. I hope I can help you and the trees find happiness again. You shouldn’t have to do everything on your on.” 

Instead of continuing on down the path, Luna turned to walk off into the forest, somehow not catching a single twig or branch in her long robes or hair.

“Thanks, Luna,” she called after her.

Without turning around, Luna replied, “I’m not the only one who believes so.”

After a brief conversation with the centaur alphas about safety protocols, Hermione had gone about her tasks like everyone else, and even in the one day they’d all been working, she felt they’d accomplished more than their previous group had in the entire two weeks.

Having a team of people who weren’t afraid of being in the forest alone improved their time management exponentially. 

Even Theo, who described himself as a strictly indoor person, hadn’t complained about casting his charm spells without anyone to keep him company.  

It had been dark for several hours when she came across him still focused on his assigned project.

“Run into any trouble today?” She asked, admiring his magic.

“Only of the pale arsehole variety.” He flashed a mischievous smile. “I offered to heal the interesting wound on his arm, and he threatened to feed me to the kelpies.”

She hid her face to keep him from seeing the brilliant red of her cheeks. “Have you seen him recently? Doxies are difficult to find in normal times. There’s no doubt he’s had to cover a great deal of land searching.”

“If he gets himself into a bind, I’m sure we wouldn’t miss the enormous dragon signaling for assistance.”

He made a logical point there.

“You know,” Theo drawled, “since I have you here, I’d love to get your answer to one of our survey questions about your heat.”

She eyed him suspiciously, not heartened by his obvious entertainment. “Depends. What is it?”

“How many times a day do you…” He raised his brows suggestively. “…you know…?”

“I’m not sure that’s important.”

“Come on, Hermione. I won’t judge, it’s six, seven times for us, so I can’t possibly say anything about you two. How many?”

She didn't answer.

“Think of the scientific advancement.”

She rolled her eyes, but his mischief was apparently contagious because they were soon laughing together. 

Still blushing from embarrassment, she finally gave in. "We sort of...don't know."

Theo turned skeptical in an instant. "Two of the most obsessively particular people I've met never thought to count?"

She stared at her hands. "It's not that, it's…well, we don't exactly...stop. So counting gets a bit tricky."

“For six days?” He laughed so loudly it startled her. "Now I understand why Nev swears he won't let anyone but you two near that cabin again."

“We can’t be the only ones. Surely other…pairs have similar answers.”

“Don’t know,” he grinned. “You're the only others I’ve asked. Draco wouldn’t say so I appreciate your cooperation.”

Mouth hanging open in outrage, she growled. “Should have let him stay angry with you,” she grumbled.

His laughter followed as she walked down the path to the cabin. 

Draco still hadn’t returned when she was ready to settle in for the night, which wasn’t too much of a shock considering the nearly impossible task he’d taken on.

She read while stretched out on the sofa in an effort to wait for him. 

She wasn’t sure how long she’d waited because she was startled awake when the door finally snapped closed, and Hermione sat straight, her gaze going directly to the entrance to make sure Draco was alright.

She froze at the sight that greeted her.

Because it was once again someone who hadn’t been invited.

“Hello, Granger.” The dark haired witch smirked.

“Pansy,” she said, blinking through her confusion. “What are you doing here?”

Chapter Text

Hermione had acquired a shadow.

One with sleek black hair and a short dress that was laughably out of place in the Forbidden Forest.

And who didn’t even carry a wand but seemed determined to prove herself the most stubborn person in existence. 

Pansy had breezed into the cabin the night before and stayed just long enough to name herself—and Blaise—as official members of her study, and despite their lack of scientific backgrounds, Hermione had welcomed the two for the sole purpose of allowing them to participate in finding a cure that Pansy needed for her survival.

But she was beginning to regret her leniency. 

Pansy’s interest in solving her own problems unfortunately had not been the motivating factor behind her arrival. 

If Hermione could just understand what Pansy’s plans were…

“While this has been riveting so far, Granger, are you seriously going to spend every second of the day playing in the dirt by yourself?”

Hermione paused mid-spell, sighing because she’d have to start over—again. “I don’t have time for socializing while I work. Remind me again why you wanted to join me.”

“Like I told you before, I don’t make the rules. If the visions say I need to be here, I can promise you, it’s necessary.”

If one more person spoke of divination in any form, Hermione swore she was going to scream. “I’d like to meet whoever had the mental fortitude to convince you to do as they asked.” Under her breath she added, “Maybe they could give me some advice.”

“Wait…” Pansy took hold of Hermione’s arm with zero thought of what it would do to her delicate wand movements. “Oh for Salazar’s sake, that bleeding-heart idiot.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong…is that you have no idea you are in the presence of a True Seer.”

She had to be fucking joking. 

“And because it’s our responsibility to try to shape events into positive outcomes, I’ve decided you need me close by in case I have any visions that could help you—”

Hermione held up her pointer finger to ask for a break, and by some act of divine intervention, the witch shut up. After casting the strongest silencing charm she knew, she remained true to her previous promise. 

She screamed. 

A full-body, eyes-closed, breath-stealing scream that she held as long as her lungs physically allowed.

When she stood straight once more and ended her spell, Pansy was grinning at her. 

“You know, when I first saw that you and I would be friends, I didn’t know how I’d ever manage, but I think you and I are going to get along just fine.”

Hermione wasn’t quite so sure.

“We’ll get along better if you let me finish this.”

Pansy laughed. “You’re not going to be able to anyway. I just saved you the frustration of having to leave it partially done.”

“What are you—?”

Before she could finish her question, galloping hooves caught her attention. 

A centaur she didn’t recognize came to a halt before them, bowing in Hermione’s direction. “Maia has requested your presence. If you are available, of course. We do not wish to interfere with your efforts.”

She glanced to Pansy who stared back with a ridiculously smug smile, and then she sighed. “Apparently, I’m free to go now. Is it alright if I bring a guest?”

The centaur nodded to Pansy. “It is expected that you will.”

The three of them walked together through the forest until they crossed to the far side of the meadow they’d used as a meeting place in the past. 

Hermione wasn’t sure how, but Pansy showed no sign of fatigue despite the distance of their hike. 

They finally reached their destination, a smaller meadow within a circle of birch trees, where the centaur elder lay beneath the largest pale trunk.

“Mother Omega,” Maia said, “thank you for granting me an audience. As you can see, I’m unable to make even a short journey, or I would have come to you instead. I am grateful for your presence as well, Pansy Zabini.”

The cut on Maia’s hind ankle had gotten worse, what was before a thin red mark, now an open gash that left the surrounding dark hair shiny with blood.

Maia followed Hermione’s gaze. “The wound resists magical intervention. It is not a problem for you to solve.”

Before she could argue, two more centaurs approached, one of them the one who’d found them with the last of the wolves. She wasn’t sure which though because they looked exactly alike, down to their nearly white coats. 

Which reminded her they were also who she’d seen speak with Draco the very first day they’d spent in the forest.

“Castor and Pollux have been chosen to assist me with my injury,” Maia explained. “Their knowledge on the multitude of remedies given to us by the forest is greater than any other among our herd.”

The two centaurs bowed towards Hermione before they kneeled beside their elder, taking turns pouring a glowing blue liquid from stone bowls onto her hind leg.

Maia shifted her hoof and thanked the twins as they retreated from the meadow.

“You may clarify if you wish.”

While Hermione tried to understand what Maia meant, Pansy spoke. “It will take several months, but she’ll regain her full health afterwards.”

Maia nodded her agreement. “It’s an inconvenience unworthy of our discussion until that time.”

Only half involved in the conversation, Hermione felt her patience beginning to fray. “Was there something you did wish to tell me?”

“You’ve already shared the information I sought. You are still unmated.”

Hermione’s vision flickered. “I wasn’t aware I was required to be yet.”

“I did not intend to criticize, merely to observe.” Maia pinched the bridge of her nose. “Forgive me. I see that I have offended you once again, and I understand your doubt. Giving is a delicate undertaking. With the wrong intent, it easily becomes taking instead. To give with no expectation to receive is rare. Nearly impossible amongst those who also understand the lure of power and wealth and glory.”

“That’s something we can agree on.” But despite the effort to smooth things between them, she still didn’t have any desire to listen to more. “Are we free to go then?”

“You’re the Mother Omega. You may do as you wish.”

“In that case…” she started off, leaving Pansy to have to run to catch up with her.

Before they could reach the tree line, Maia called after her. “They used you and gave you death. Your power has given back life. Don’t fear what you are.”

She walked even faster. 

They were halfway through the large meadow before Pansy began to struggle to keep up, but as soon as Hermione noticed, she slowed to a near stop.

“And I thought I had a difficult task reminding the Draco and Theo of their manners, Granger. If it served your purpose, you’d insult Merlin himself and think nothing of it.”

“She hit a raw nerve.” Hermione winced. “I’m trying.”

“Not very hard,” Pansy laughed. “We’re going to have to work on those trust issues, too.”

Hermione hadn’t seen Draco all week.

Not even a glimpse.

And it was beginning to set her nerves on edge.

He was gone by the time she woke in the morning, despite how early she’d pushed back her alarm in an effort to snatch a few minutes together before they each set out for the day. 

It also didn’t matter how late she’d stayed awake on their sofa at the end of the day either. Every night, she eventually fell asleep, only to wake the next day tucked comfortably into her bed.

Alone. 

The single other indication he even still remained there was the vial of doxy eggs triumphantly displayed on their dining table.

At least she felt her group had been making progress, so much so that they’d begun to see a marked improvement in the forest landscape. 

She had just finished recording updates with everyone—except for Draco, of course, because she couldn’t find him and also Blaise Zabini, who had yet to speak one word to her since he and his wife had arrived.

Pansy had continued to trail after her wherever she went, but the witch had finally gone back to her own cabin for what Hermione hoped was the remainder of the day.

Which made Blaise’s approach to where she was organizing her paperwork on a tall boulder all the more daunting.

He put his hands in his pockets as he paused in front of her. “I have an offer for you.”

Her hackles raised wondering what he could possibly want from her, her stomach twisting in on itself when she realized what it had to be. “For what?” She asked anyway.

“I want you to find your Alpha.”

She wanted to scream again, filing her things away with a snap of her wand. “I—”

“I’ll pay you,” he rushed out before she could reply. “Any amount of galleons you want. I’ve got properties, jewelry.” He cleared the hoarseness from his voice. “Granger, please. I’ll do anything for you find the right person. I don’t know what game you two are playing, but I’m not risking my wife’s life because of it.”

No, now she wanted to escape because neither was she. “I…I’m planing to do it. I am. Draco is helping me…he—”

Blaise shook his head as she spoke. “The only person he’s helping is himself. Just like Theo did. After she kept them alive during the war. Only this time it’s worse. At least Theo found someone who cared about him in return.”

“Wait…I do care…”

“Do you?” His voice turned bitter. “And how many heats have you gone through without asking him to bite you?”

She hugged her arms around her middle, studying the golden moss at her feet.

“That’s what I thought. Let me know when you decide what it will take to convince you to find your real mate instead.” He turned to walk away but paused to look back. “It should be what you want anyway. Not…whatever it is you’re doing with him. You’re just using him.”

He left her alone with the rocks and trees.

It took several minutes for her to regain the ability to move, but once she did, she only had one thought.

She needed Draco. 

Because Blaise was wrong. She wasn’t using him. She’d promised she wouldn’t. 

And if he felt like she had begun to, he would tell her. 

She knew he would.

Except she’d not even seen him in days, much less spoken with him.

Maybe she’d been wrong.

Maybe asking him to remain friends had been selfish.

Using.

Walking suddenly didn’t seem fast enough, like she was moving in slow-motion.

So she ran instead.

Through the woods towards the meadow, following the same path she had the night of the stargazing event. 

Even though she wasn’t sure what had drawn her that direction.

She ran through the trees and moss, not slowing even when she reached the rocky area where she’d fallen, all the way to where the forest abruptly thinned at the banks of a narrow river.

Without thinking through the consequences, she jogged down the sloped land and stepped into the water, confident she’d find Draco if she could manage to reach the other side.

The moment water touched her stomach, she hit something hard, and dread and adrenaline surged through her veins at the realization she’d made a terrible mistake. 

Her suspicions were confirmed when a towering horse-like form rose from below the surface and blocked her path.

Slowed by the added weight of her soaked jumper, she raised her wand towards the kelpie a split-second too late, the shimmering muzzle snatching the wood from her grasp before she could fire a single spell. 

She fought as it tried to grab her next, kicking and shoving while desperately trying to summon her wand.

A hoof stamped down, hitting the water where she’d been only a second before, and a snap of teeth followed right after, catching a couple of flyaway strands of her hair. 

Something gripped her ankle, and she stomped at it with her opposite foot, rage setting in as the hold remained steadfast.

She gulped in air just before she was pulled beneath the fast-flowing water.

The world turned into a tumbling blur of blue and green and gray.

She struggled to curl into herself, clawing at the serpentine tail around her leg, her mind unhelpfully counting backwards from the number she’d achieved the last time she’d tested how long she could hold her breath.

Before she reached zero, she was suddenly driven by the current into the creature’s back, the grip on her ankle going slack just before she was lifted from the water by a hold she knew even though her vision was still re-adjusting.

Her back landed gently against the grassy bank, and she nearly cried from relief when her wand was pressed into her hand. 

She finally managed to blink the water from her eyes.

Draco hovered over her, his murderous gaze checking her condition and obviously finding her sufficiently unharmed.

He slashed with his wand, and a green vine flew from the direction of the trees, twisting into a new series of rope-like sections right before it looped across the kelpie’s petrified head.

After wading into the middle of the water, Draco released his spell and took hold of the bridle he’d made, dragging the creature up the sloping bank, even though now that he’d captured it, a simple command would have compelled it to obey. He addressed it with a dangerously calm voice. “Tell your companions I’ll make you all a matching set if I see any of you in this river again.”

Hermione rushed to stand, grabbing him by his elbow. “What are you doing?”

“Sending it on its way.”

“With the bridle?” She asked, growing more frantic. “It’ll starve.”

He ran his eyes over her still drenched body. “Like I care.”

“Draco, please.” She reached to touch his chest without thinking.

He pulled away. “Fine,” he gritted, approaching the shaking kelpie and speaking to it so low she couldn’t hear what he said.

A flick of his wrist caused the vines to fall away, and the creature disappeared below the surface, leaving no indication it had been there at all.

Once it was gone, all of Draco’s anger drained into nothing as well.

He pulled her into his chest, his breath rushing in and out. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I’m not hurt.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I’m fine.” It sounded like a lie even to her own ears. “I was trying to find you.”

“Do you need something?”

Somewhere in the river, she had lost her nerve, so she shook her head at his question as she stepped away.

He sighed, and it only highlighted how tired he looked. “I’ll take you back to the path.”

He didn’t speak as they walked, and she couldn’t force herself to either. Not when she was afraid of what she’d learn. 

That maybe Blaise had been right. 

It didn’t matter what her intention was. Not if he still believed it to be true.

They paused when they reached their agreed upon destination.

“I would come with you, but I…”

“It’s fine,” she said, not wanting to hear his excuse. “I’m alright on my own.”

He gave her a quick nod, and she started off, refusing to look back even though her body was begging her to. 

Each step felt like another countdown to her total loss of oxygen. 

Once back at the cabin, she curled up on the sofa to wait just as she had every other night.

She didn’t have any hope, however, that it mattered.

Hermione jolted upright, hastily untangling herself from the sheets and coverlet twisted around her legs and then stumbled off her bed. 

Gaining full range of motion once more reduced her panic to only a moderate level, but the blurred images still lingering in her mind left her fighting against the invisible weight threatening to suffocate her.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

She had crossed their common area and slipped into Draco’s room before she’d consciously made the decision to do it, but once she was there, she paused with her back to the closed door to process the revelation that she wasn’t alone. 

She almost ran back out.

But after only a brief glance from his place on the bed, Draco lifted the blankets to create a space for her. “Come here.” 

Ignoring her earlier fears, she rushed over and climbed in, curling into him and resting her head onto his shoulder.

When he lowered their cover, he didn’t pull away, his hand splaying across her back and holding her even closer as he inhaled deeply. “Bad dreams?”

She nodded against his neck, breathing him in, too. “How’d you know?”

“You looked afraid. You only look like that long after danger has passed. When you’re tormenting yourself over whether you made the right choices or not.”

The words were annoyingly accurate.“Then what do I look like during?”

“The cause of fear.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Want to talk about it?”

”Yes, but I need you to answer something first. Honestly.”

“Alright.”

“Do you think I’m using you?”

“You aren’t using me, Granger. Stop being difficult and tell me about your dream.”

Only the smallest hint of apprehension remained. “It started out like earlier. A kelpie took me. But instead of trying to hurt me, it wanted to deliver me to a pack of Alphas, all waiting to force me to choose one of them.”

His fingers flexed against her spine. “And that was worse than the near-death encounter that actually occurred?”

A shiver ran through her body. “Much worse.”

He hummed as if he understood. “What are you most afraid of? With choosing someone?”

She moved just enough to be able to see his face, the seriousness she found there not what she’d expected. “You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

She swallowed, gathering the thoughts she’d not had to put into words ever before. “Obliviating my parents, that was like losing my past. And Bellatrix’s spell, it was losing my future. So all I had left was me.”

She closed her eyes for a long moment and then opened them again. “Please don’t think me terrible for this, but that understanding wasn’t as difficult as it probably should have been. I think…I was, in a way…I was relieved. I love my mum and dad. And they…loved me. But they never understood this other world I belonged to. They didn’t hide their disappointment I had no interest in a muggle career. And they wanted me to be more present in their lives but didn’t offer any support even though they knew about the literal war I was fighting in. Sometimes I’m scared I chose obliviation out of selfishness. Even though it’s been years and I still can’t think of an alternative.”

“They’re alive because of you.”

“I guess that’s true. But I have to live with the consequences of what I did forever.”

The look on his face alone threatened to break her so she exhaled in relief when he didn’t press for more. 

His fingers trailed gently against her skin. “And the rest?”

“That was easier.” She shrugged, forcing her pain to the edges of her mind. “I had so much I wanted to do. Being a mum was near the bottom of my list, so it didn’t feel unnatural to me to cross it off entirely.”

“We’re similar in that way.”

“We are, aren’t we?” It was oddly freeing talking with someone who didn’t question her acceptance of it. Which was why she was terrified of mating with a stranger who could very well refuse to. “I spent two years going to appointment after appointment to try to fix it. At Molly’s advice because in her view she was being a caring future mother-in-law.” She rolled her eyes. “When the healers decided nothing could be done, it was what finally motivated Ron to end things with me. As if I was anywhere near ready to think of becoming anyone’s wife, let alone a mother. Still…I wasn’t so offended he wanted out as I was that he would have stayed and been apathetic about our inevitable misery if I would have been able to give him a child.”

“And I thought I couldn’t hate the bastard more.”

Anxiety that had nothing to do with her past crept back over her mind. “What if the Alpha I’m forced to mate with just demands more of me. We don’t even have enough information to know if I’ll have compulsions to do what they want. What if they don’t care about all the things I still want to do?”

He pressed his head to hers, somehow holding her tears at bay. “Afraid of losing your freedom again…that’s also something I can relate to.”

Closing her eyes, she let the even stronger flow of his magic give her strength. “I know.”

“I’m sorry they did this to you.”

She nodded, then pulled back. “Why didn’t you tell me…about you giving me your excess magic by choice? Even when we shared our portkey that first time. I…why would you do that when you didn’t even like me?”

The way he stopped breathing confirmed her theory that he’d known all along. “Where did you learn that?”

“Luna. She shared some of hers with me.”

An inaudible growl vibrated in his chest. “I see.”

She searched his face, taken by surprise at the jealousy she found there. She smoothed her palm over his chest. “She didn’t mean anything by it. And I asked her not to…I…it doesn’t feel right…now that I’m so familiar with yours.” She felt his tension fade. “But I still want to know, why did you do it?”

“I don’t know that it was an entirely conscious decision at first, I only remember wanting you to not be so broken. So unlike yourself. Your accidental magic with our lunch, that was the first time I gave to you intentionally.”

“Why did you care? None of the other Alphas did.”

“Because I couldn’t ignore your pain again.”

She didn’t know what to say so she didn’t say anything.

“Pansy knew when you were taken to Lestrange Manor,” he finally explained. “She saw it in a vision, one of the first she shared with anyone else.”

“She told me she’s a seer.”

He nodded. “She tried to convince me to rescue you. And I...I didn't believe you'd been caught. It wasn't logical. Hermione Granger outwitted by a few low-rate snatchers. I yelled at her for suggesting something so absurd. But then we learned you'd escaped. Barely alive. Hurt. Apparently even more than I knew...I've never doubted Pansy since."

“You trying to stage a rescue would have only resulted in your capture as well.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean I regret it any less.”

She wasn’t nearly awake enough to process his confession. “What about now? All the time I’m with you, you’re spending the energy to direct your magic towards me?”

It sounded exhausting. Especially with how little he’d slept all week.

“Giving to you is like second nature now. I’m not sure I could stop even if I wanted to.” He held her closer, his weariness clear as he rested against the pillow, closing his eyes. 

She laid onto his shoulder again and closed hers as well, the silence stretching so long she assumed he’d fallen asleep.

So she wasn’t prepared for the words he whispered into her hair. “And I certainly don’t want to.”

Chapter Text

More days passed without Draco, but every morning when Hermione woke, she was no longer on the sofa where she’d fallen asleep. Nor was she in her own bed.

She was in his.

And she knew he had been with her for at least some of the night because she began her day refreshed and strengthened by more than mere sleep, his familiar magic still coursing through her veins.

So much so that she finally had the courage to check for a message from Ginny.

After only a minor struggle with her bag, she had the notebook free and turned to the new writing, a single line asking her not to read Harry’s letter.

She flipped to the next page.

You already have, haven’t you? I’m going to divorce him. After I murder my brother. I expect monthly visits from you once I’m in Azkaban. Message when you can to let me know you’re alright.

There were several more similar notes all asking after Hermione’s well-being. With one last to say that after contacting everyone they knew and finally receiving word back from Neville that she was safe, Ginny was waiting for her to be ready for a response.

It vanished the heavy stones weighing down on her chest.

She wrote a quick apology and reassurance but then found herself wanting so badly to confess to where she’d hidden away after she’d left the hospital that she couldn’t do more than ask after Ginny’s own mental state before she closed the notebook once more and left it on her night table.

The other conversation needed to happen in person.

Pansy wasn’t waiting for her along the path as usual so she continued to the forest alone, where she worked until lunchtime, going back to the cabin to get a short break from the chill that had set in.

On her walk back, she found Pansy where she normally would have. Only she wasn’t alone. She was speaking angrily with her husband. 

Blaise’s answer held no aggression, his gentleness as he brushed his fingers along his wife’s face and into her hair an amusing sight compared to his disheveled appearance. 

One of his eyes was swollen shut.

Pansy met him as he leaned down to kiss her lips, but after he stood upright again, the witch crossed her arms and glared at him with raised brows. 

Blaise sighed, turning to step towards Hermione as she approached. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, and despite the apology appearing to be given under duress, he also sounded surprisingly sincere. “I should have focused on helping to find a solution instead of causing more trouble for you.”

“Thanks.” She barely had the word out before he nodded and then strode towards the trees.

“His eye looks dreadful,” Hermione said as soon as she and Pansy were alone. 

“He’s being dramatic and won’t ask anyone to heal it.”

“What happened?”

Pansy smirked. “I’ll let you guess.”

“Draco?” She blinked in shock. “Why would he do that?”

Pansy stared at her with a pitying look and then rolled her eyes. “Salazar, I underestimated how much of a work-in-progress you are.”

“I could have told you I am,” Hermione muttered. “Is Blaise alright?”

“He’s fine,” Pansy waved off her concern.  “Or he will be. He isn’t used to Draco allowing anything, or should I say anyone, to come between our little family.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, holding tightly. “I didn’t intend to.”

Pansy wedged her fingers beneath Hermione’s elbow, linking their arms and starting down the path. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me. I’ve already taken you in as one of us. Whether Blaise likes it or not. He shouldn't have told you what he did. If it were him instead, I can't promise I wouldn't have asked the same, but that still doesn't make it forgivable. I'm sorry."

"Thanks, Pansy,” she said, allowing herself to be pulled along. “That’s kind of you to say." 

“I reminded him that my visions of your eventual mate are obscured by uncertainty. It’s not our place to interfere.”

Hermione sighed. “Why do think you still have visions? When you aren’t even able to cast spells?”

Pansy let go of Hermione’s arm to fidget with the hem of her dress, revealing the end of the wand holster strapped to her thigh. “They’ll be the last to fail.”

It was the first time the witch had shown her any grief over the loss of her magic, and it made Hermione regret her previous annoyance. She stopped, and Pansy paused with her. “I’m going to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Pansy gave her a sad smile. “I wouldn’t fault you if you didn’t.”

Rustling leaves drew their attention upwards just in time to watch as a glowing blur streaked overhead, moving so quickly as it wheeled to return to its original location, its shape remained obscured.

All except for the unmistakable arrow-tipped tail of a Hebridean Black.

Hermione didn’t take even a second to decide. She sprinted after the dragon as it showed her the route towards where it had been cast from. 

Towards where Draco was in danger.

Stray branches scraped her hands and face but she barely noticed. 

She didn’t slow until she caught up to it. Right before it dove, disappearing into a giant wall of inky blackness shining with points of starlight. As if a section of the sky had fallen to the forest floor.

If the dark screen hadn’t been obvious enough, a marked stone entrance made it clear where she was. 

She barely contained her panic.

Because beyond the black wall where Draco’s patronus had vanished, was the Forbidden Forest’s basilisk reserve.

Founded after the war, the secluded and warded land had become home to the deadly snakes confiscated from breeders and owners across the world. 

She’d been adamant about their study team avoiding it.

It was something she didn’t believe required much effort in enforcement.

But it seems she had been wrong.

If Draco managed to escape with his life, she wasn’t going to have to visit Ginny in Azkaban because she was going to be there too. With their combined fame, maybe they could even bargain for a shared cell. 

Finally deciding she had no other options, she moved next to the dark barrier.

“Draco?”

She heard him mutter a curse. “Of course you’d be the first to arrive.”

She didn’t think he’d appreciate her pointing out how his patronus had flown directly to her. “Do I even want to know why you’re in there?”

“It was supposed to be safe,” he said. “We herded the snakes into a secure area so I could collect skins, but it seems we’ve missed a juvenile one.”

“That unforgivable I threatened you with last time?” She gritted, overwhelmed by how careless he’d been. “Not even close to how much I want to use one now.”

“Just go get a centaur, Granger.”

She ignored him. “Where is the basilisk?”

“At the moment? Coiled up on my shoulder. I think it’s asleep, but for obvious reasons I’m not going to verify." He said it calmly. As if its venom wasn’t equally as deadly as its direct gaze.

“I’m not leaving.” Not when one wrong move could end in disaster.

Draco made a frustrated noise. “Of course you aren’t.”

After a brief battle with her bag, she finally found the item she needed, carrying it to the entrance with her. “Just keep talking so I can follow your voice.”

She closed her eyes and walked through the stone arch.

“I’m not fond of snakes as it is. This mishap is going to ruin them for good.”

She couldn’t help but agree. “How did you notice it without...”

Stopping herself, she fought to compartmentalize the thought of him not being so lucky.

“It was wedged half beneath a rock and a larger skin, probably why it was able to avoid the spells to make it leave. I only saw a tail when I tried to grab its cover.”

“And you didn’t think to run then?”

“I needed the rest of what I’d collected first. But then this one became overly curious of my shoes. So I went still and have been thinking very non-aggressive thoughts ever since.”

“I’m here, so stay still,” she whispered, reaching out slowly to find his abdomen. “Left or right shoulder?”

“Right,” he spoke quietly.

Leaving the one hand in place, she moved the porcelain jar slowly to the right side of his chest, while at the same time she began a song-like repetition of sibilant sounds, fighting to keep her voice steady and soothing.

“It’s moving,” Draco said. 

She kept up her soft chant, almost disbelieving when the heft of the container steadily increased as the snake slithered in, its body adjusting to the size.

“It’s gone.”

Carefully, she lowered the lid onto the top, and then she set the jar onto the ground where they wouldn’t risk stepping.

She entwined her fingers with his and led him back through the stones, still walking by feel and memory alone just in case.

They both breathed heavy sighs of relief when they opened their eyes in the forest once more.

Draco pulled her into him, surprise clear in his voice. “You’re a parselmouth?”

“God no,” she laughed, and it only had a touch of lingering panic. “I’ve picked up a few words here and there from Harry. But by no means would I call myself one.”

“What were you saying?”

“Well if I got the intonation correct, I was repeating the word ‘bookshelf’ to it.”

“Are you serious?” He laughed.

“It was the first thing that came to mind.” She held on tighter. “And since it proved effective, I wasn’t going to change it, was I?”

“Fair point. Thanks for the rescue, Granger.”

He let her go to step back, his usual black uniform now including a thick cape made of iridescent scales.

It made for quite the intimidating sight.

Like a king of serpents.

She reached for one of the larger skins, beyond thankful its owner wasn’t the one they’d had to face. “Why do you need these?”

He adjusted the tie at his neck. “Basilisk skins are a favorite treat for unicorns mares in foal. Their mates will do nearly anything to get them. Of course with the reserve protected as it is, they’re rarely able to acquire any.”

“And you just thought the precautions shouldn’t apply to you?”

“This from someone who knew there were kelpies in the river.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s different.”

“It isn’t.” He smirked down at her, raising his wand. “How worried should I be about your threat of unforgivables? I’m trying to gauge how strong I should cast my shield charm while you’re here.”

“No need.” She shot him a smirk of her own, feeling even more smug when his suspicion became visible. “I’ve decided you’re going to make it up to me.”

“Am I?” His low voice spiked her adrenaline for an entirely different reason. “And how will I be doing that?”

With monumental effort, she regained control of herself, taking his hand again and dragging him along. “You’re going to take a nap with me.”

He was quiet all the way back to their cabin, but he did go along with her so she couldn’t reasonably complain.

After they separated for showers—and some minor healing spells—in their own rooms, Hermione found him waiting for her beside her door. 

He gestured towards the sofa, but she shook her head, taking him by the hand again and leading him back to his room instead.

“You need decent rest,” she told him, crawling into the center of the bed and reaching for him. “And I want to actually be awake enough to remember being here with you.”

When he was situated onto his back, she took it upon herself to pull at his wrist, creating a space for her to lie on his shoulder with his arm around her, the rest of her body aligned with his. “Is this alright?”

His other hand wove into her hair as he angled towards her and drew her into an even closer embrace. “I didn’t want to assume.”

She almost told him how much she’d been starved for his touch, but when she ran her fingertips through the soft strands of hair falling over his brow, his pained sigh gave the impression he already understood.

“I can stay for a hour,” he whispered against her temple.

She looked up to find his eyes already on her. “That’s not long enough.”

“It will have to be,” he said, unapologetically ignoring her concern. “We only have a few days left.”

She fought to keep the reprimand from her tone. “You can’t keep going like this. You’ve barely slept since we arrived. And the week before was also…strenuous.” Her voice rose in pitch for the last word, and she had to clear her throat. “I understand your urgency, but you’re pushing yourself too hard.”

His jaw clenched. “I don’t care.”

She smoothed her palm against his cheek, relieved when some of the harshness faded with her touch. “I know you’re worried about Pansy, but she’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure of it.” Her mind flashed to Blaise and his offer. “I will protect her. And the others. No matter what I have to do.”

“You think I’m...” He shook his head, glaring down at her. “I’m doing this for you, Granger. To buy you time. To keep things like what happened yesterday from occurring again. Or what happened at the hospital. If your own friends had plans to force you into finding a mate, can you imagine what others might…”

He trailed off, and she had to close her eyes to avoid the rage on his face, his claim that he had been working himself to the point of exhaustion for her already too much without adding that he cared enough to fight both her friends and his on her behalf. “The reality of it has obviously been wearing on me.”

When she opened her eyes again, he had transformed his anger to determination. “If I can make this potion and restore everyone’s magic to where it should be, it will give you the time to think of some other options. I just…fuck…I’m just trying to give you time.”

Still reeling from his declaration, from his devotion to her needs, she redoubled her efforts to care for him too. “You’ve already done enough. You’ve been at my side through all of it,” she whispered, holding on tighter to him, all the worry and tension from what could have been a fatal encounter with the basilisk draining away with the brushes of his fingers along her back and shoulder. “I don’t think I would survive all of this without you.”

He made an amused sound, giving her a small smile. “You would.” 

It further demonstrated how they had both changed so much.

She glanced at the room behind him, uprooting buried memories from their first time in the forest, and her breath stuttered, a crackling fracture of desperation leaving her insides brittle and jagged, the resulting pain so agonizing that a quiet confession slipped from her lips. “Sometimes I wish we would have accidentally done it…during my first heat…I know you don’t want to be chained to anyone by your magic again. And neither do I. But at least you’re someone I care about. Someone who understands what I need…who wouldn’t make me feel so trapped.”

His hand flexed against her, his eyes dimming into a dull gray. “With your new title, you’ve essentially ascended to queen of wizarding society. You wouldn’t want a real relationship with someone who’s been cast off from it.”

She had expected an excuse so it didn’t hurt too much that he had one at the ready. “Always so confident,” she said, her attempt at levity sounding hollow. Then, she whispered, “Even when you’re wrong.”

Without warning, Draco moved to hover over her, caging her in as she landed on her back beneath him, the sudden change sending her pulse into a wild and unsteady rhythm.

“What are you saying?” He asked, voice rough, his eyes now burning white hot as he searched her own.  “If you could, would you choose to be with me?”

Lack of oxygen that had nothing to do with his heaviness made it difficult to speak. “Yes,” she answered honestly. “I know it’s not—”

“Don’t you dare say it’s not what I want.”

She blinked up at him, her mind refusing to comprehend what he was implying. “You want to be with me?” She asked, her voice shaking. “In a real relationship?”

He looked at her as if her questions were the most illogical things he’d ever heard. “Of course I do. I’ve never hated prophecy more than I do right now.”

She hadn’t either. And she couldn’t bear it any longer. “Draco…”

At the sound of his name, his expression turned soft and open, giving her even more courage. "What do you need?"

“Please…kiss me?”

His answering smile stole what little air she had left in her lungs, but she couldn’t make herself care. Not when he lowered against her, sharing his own breath as his mouth closed over hers, his tongue slipping inside, igniting every nerve ending in her body and filling her middle with sensations of spins and inversions.

He kissed her until she was near tears, until she couldn’t resist chasing after his sure and reverent touches with frantic ones of her own.

His mouth traced along her jaw. “Do you want more?”

“Yes,” she begged, “please…please, yes.” 

She moaned when he dropped more of his weight against her, his mouth falling to hers once more before he pulled back, wasting no time to free her of her sleep clothes and himself of his.

He kissed her again until she was pleading.

Finally, he aligned his cock, sliding inside her as deeply as possible and sending her into an instantaneous reach for the high only he could bring.

She inhaled sharply against his chest as he built a slow rhythm that had them trembling. “How did we…go without this for so long?”

“I don’t fucking know,” he said, his voice strained. “Felt like I was dying.”

She didn’t try to subdue her soft sounds of amusement. “I really want to call you dramatic for that. But it would be…absurdly hypocritical of me.”

His next thrust was sharp, drawing matching curses from them both. “What are we supposed to do, Granger?”

“I don’t know,” she said, feeling very much like he was the only thing holding her entire being intact, “…god, I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it right now.”

“Neither do I.”

She pressed her lips to his skin, right over his rapidly beating heart. “Then let’s…not.”

“Alright.”

It wasn’t like any previous time. 

Not the half-dazed and inevitably disorienting intensity of her heats.

Or the emotionally reserved connection they’d forged as friends.

Experiencing Draco’s uninhibited promise of what it meant to be fully his was so much more.

Considering how familiar she was with it, she'd been prepared for the physical gratification.

But the flood of contentment from witnessing his happiness, from contributing to it and mirroring it with her own, created a wholly unfamiliar weight beneath her sternum. 

She was drowning on the inside.

Desperately needing her lungs to expand but finding they had nowhere to go.

As she spiraled into uncertainty.

"I know," he said, his big hand sliding to cradle her neck, crushing her against him as her breathing turned ragged. "I know and I feel the same."

It settled her, reminding her she wasn’t alone. Every change, every new experience, he’d been there right by her side. “I’m really happy you agreed to come back here with me.”

“So am I.”

After giving her two orgasms, he finally gave in to his own, letting his knot swell deep inside her.

He reached for his wand, rearranging the pillows before he flipped them so that he was partially reclined with her straddling his thighs, the new position making it possible for her to catch her breath against his neck.

“We’re going to solve this together,” he said quietly, his mouth at her temple. “I swear it. You’ll have time.” Wrapping her tighter in his arms, he pressed his lips into her hair. “I’m going to give you time.”

It was dark by the time she and Draco woke up, and they ventured out together only to be interrupted by the rest of their companions—except for Luna—gathered around a magical blue fire.

After some cajoling from mostly Theo, they decided to join, sitting together on one of the remaining wooden benches. Draco imitated the other two couples and transformed a blanket, draping it over his and Hermione’s shoulders as he held her close.

Pansy looked on approvingly. “I know you consider yourself feral these days, Draco, but it’s nice to see you’ve at least held on to basic manners.”

With everyone focused on the two of them, Hermione became acutely aware of how they’d just publicly solidified their private admissions to wanting a real relationship.

“Hermione, are you blushing?” Theo asked incredulously. “It isn’t like we didn’t know you’re together. You’ve been through two heats with the man.”

“I am not—” She turned to Draco. “Am I?”

He resisted a self-satisfied smile for all of two seconds before he brushed his thumb over her cheek. “It’s cute.”

“What about you?” Pansy gestured to Neville. “You only blush when Theo goes too far into detail about his own heats. But these two sharing a bench is enough as well?”

Blaise leaned down to his wife’s ear, speaking too low for anyone else to know what he said.

Pansy’s smirk and blatant eye contact made Hermione flush with warmth all over again. “Oh…that is an interesting new discovery.”

Theo followed Pansy’s line of sight, grinning mischievously. “Sounds like something I should know too. For my survey, of course.”

Neville’s low laughter earned him a look of false betrayal. “It appears that adding fresh pheromones to the ones already present after going through a heat makes for a rather strong combination.”

Theo’s eyes flicked between her and Draco, his amusement growing. “You’re right, Pans, very interesting, indeed.”

“In our defense,” Draco said, his hand trailing to her scent gland to calm her, “we hadn’t planned to be near any of you.”

Neville bent his head to Theo’s. “He’s right. It’s your fault, love. We should look into some sort of neutralizing potion,” he winced, fighting to keep his seriousness but failing. “No offense intended, Hermione.”

“As if she’s the only one who needs it,” Blaise said, giving a pointed look to a shocked Neville and then to Theo. 

They all devolved into laughter, even Blaise, the mood lightening immensely amongst them.

“That’s not a bad idea actually,” Hermione said, her nerves all but forgotten. “I have a few ingredients in mind already.”

Neville nodded. “I’ll have school responsibilities to catch up on this upcoming week, but we could work on it afterwards.”

Before she could respond with her growing excitement, they all turned to where Luna approached, her white robes and hair drawing their attention first before she sat gracefully onto the remaining bench.

Her face held no emotion, but the fire reflected from the wet streaks of her tears.  “Hello, everyone.”

“Luna,” Hermione said, rushing to her side while Draco followed right behind. “What’s wrong?”

She answered as dreamily as she usually did. “I know why the trees are sad.”

Chapter Text

At Luna's insistence, they'd waited until dawn to hike through the forest so she could show everyone what she'd discovered, refusing to tell even Hermione the specifics of it before they could all see the secluded section of land for themselves.

“Death eaters captured this area when we were all young. They stripped every resource without any thought of preservation.” Luna had paused to explain after everyone’s initial shock faded. “It’s no longer considered part of the Forbidden Forest.”

“We didn’t see this when we flew in,” Blaise said, his voice grim.

“Spelled,” Luna said, silent tears still streaming down her face.

“Did you know?” He asked Pansy, who appeared tired even though he had provided her with a steady supply of strengthening charms.

Staring straight, Pansy shook her head.

Hermione could hardly process the sight. The forest before them was devoid of life. Trees stood but none had foliage, the ground layered with debris of old plant life and rotten branches. 

No magical creatures would survive in such a place. 

Even the air around them contained a heavy sense of foreboding, warning every living creature to stay away.

"Why haven’t any centaurs told us about it?” She worked to keep her anger in check. “It appears quite pertinent to our research.”

"They won't speak of it,” Luna said. “It's like a superstition. They’ve cordoned it off with a strong magical barrier, protecting far into the ground as well." 

The fresh theory that toxicities could be spreading from the soil there to the rest of the forest was subsequently crossed out.

Luna walked towards the dead trees. "But there’s worse I need to show you."

Draco remained close at Hermione’s side, his wand held loosely in his hand.

Neville cast a shield to protect them all from potential falling trees and pulled Theo in close as well.

Silence from Theo, who never missed an opportunity for a quip, unnerved her.

Luna lead them into the dead forest, and the wooded land soon opened up to what once had been a meadow.

They all stopped abruptly, Hermione almost stumbling at the scene.

With her role completed, Luna turned to face the direction they’d come from while the rest of them stood stunned.

“I think I might be sick,” Hermione said, and Draco reached for her hand, attempting to calm her with a more direct flow of his magic.

It helped. 

But not enough.

Because the barren field was littered with bones. 

Skeletal remains of what had to be at least twenty unicorns. 

A few of them had been very young.

“I would ask why the bastards would do this,” Theo said, “but unfortunately I already know.”

“They didn’t care,” Pansy said, moving closer and leaning into Theo’s free side.

“One of us should check them for curses.” Neville’s tone exhibited suppressed rage. “It would be disrespectful for us to stay here long.”

“Draco and I will go,” Hermione offered, taking the leadership role as she should have.

No one challenged her for the task.

“Are you alright with that?” She peered upwards to find Draco’s eyes more enraged than Neville’s had been, but his face, he’d etched into a mask of cold indifference.

“Yes.” His voice was lifeless.

Everything in her body protested as she drew closer to the nearest fallen creature, pulling Draco along with her as she walked.

She let go of his hand to examine the bones.

Cause of death wasn’t hard to ascertain.

An arrow lay on the ground beneath the bleached rib cage, its sharp tip stained with the unmistakable poison of dark magic.

The implications were monstrous.

A quick glance to the rest of her team let her know they’d decided to disturb the tragic site as little as possible, all of them filing silently back into the trees, their heads bowed towards the ground.

When she turned back, she found Draco, still with an empty expression, using his wand to meticulously remove the twisted horn from the unicorn’s skull.

It nearly made her gag to ask, "Would found horns be enough for your potion?"

He didn’t look away from the partial cut. "No."

Understanding washed over her. “You want to give them back.”

Still focused on severing the horn, he nodded once. “It’s important for their mourning practices.”

“I know,” she whispered. “Let me help you.” She held her wand and started for the nearest unfortunate victim.

“Don’t,” Draco said, and she may have taken offense if the word hadn’t emerged broken. He visibly worked to control himself, his words dull once more. “It’s painful and draws on your magic to harvest them after death.”

That was something she didn’t know. And it twisted her middle to an uncomfortable degree at wondering why he did.

She swallowed thickly. “Alright. I’m going to check the others.”

It disgusted—but didn’t surprise—her to find each unicorn had been slain the same way, even the foals left to their final resting places with the object responsible for their demise. 

A growing bundle of arrows levitated to her side, and once she’d gathered all of them, she destroyed them in a violent burst of magical flames. 

Afterwards, she followed along silently and watched as Draco collected the horns into a large leather pouch, his cold expression slipping every so often into a grimace of pain. 

By the time he’d finished, she could see a slight tremor in his fingers from the effort it took for him to cast.

Still, he managed to cover them with a sturdy shield as they silently hiked through the trees again to where the others waited.

Her stomach filled heavily with dread when she realized they’d gained another member.

Aite stood high over Pansy, each of the women appearing a breath away from physical violence as they argued.

Blaise looked on with murderous intensity but seemed reluctant to intervene.

Hermione took up Draco’s hand again.

"From what I've seen,” Pansy hissed, “there’s no clarity of who her mate will be. For all we know, it is him."

"Him?” Aite bit out, her eyes landing on the man beside Hermione with unconcealed disdain. She stamped a hoof after trailing her gaze to their linked hands. "Draco Malfoy. Heir of destruction and death. He is not the Creator we seek. Our omens are absolute, and they describe someone who is opposite in lineage and in deed."

Hermione pulled away from him to join Pansy’s side, her own fury whipping through her body because of the unjust title Aite had given him. "That's not who he is."

Aite glared down at her. "So you believe. Why don’t you ask him who is responsible for so many innocent creatures' slaughter."

"We already know who’s responsible,” she gritted.

"You know the one who drank enough blood to kill a few. Has he told you who hunted them for sport? Who found pleasure in taking their lives. The one who murdered so many it almost destroyed the entire herd?"

Hermione twisted to him when she felt Draco move closer.

"She means my father,” he said, then he lowered his voice only for her. “It’s why I was so angry when you accused me before.”

Aite addressed Draco, her words callous and sharp, another arrow to match the one that had just been lodged into Hermione’s chest. "If you continue to impede her search for a mate, you’ll become no less the destroyer he was."

Without a word, Draco tossed the pouch of unicorn horns at the centaur’s front hooves, and she reached to look inside it, unable to hide her surprise at what she found. Clutching the horns reverently, Aite’s words were no less acidic as she spoke. “I have no interest in bribery. These will be returned to the unicorn herd anonymously.”

Draco shrugged as if she’d said the most mundane thing in the world.

“Why are you here?” To everyone surprise, the deadly calm question came curtesy of Neville, who tilted his head to one side as he approached. “I keep asking myself what your motives are, as they seem to be at odds with those of the herd. Does Maia approve of your treatment of the Mother Omega?”

Aite appeared taken aback. “I’m an Alpha. I don’t need permission from the elders to do what should be done.”

“I guess not.” Neville shrugged, idly tapping his wand against his trousers. “But you’ve helped me several times in the past, and it’s taken seeing what you’ve done to people I care about to question why that is.” He seemed to make a decision. “From now on, we will only take information from Maia. I hope you keep in mind that I’m also an Alpha. One who has no elders to seek permission…nor punishment from.”

The centaur retreated with an outraged huff, her gait quickly becoming a gallop, leaving a noticeable break in tension among everyone left behind.

If only for a few moments.

A gasp drew everyone’s attention to the dark haired witch in their midst.

"I need to go home," Pansy said. “Now.”

Blaise took up his wife's hand in an instant, casting an unfamiliar spell over her that Hermione assumed was meant check her magic levels. His brow furrowed as he shared a long moment staring at the small witch beside him while she embodied the aura of someone not to be contended with. 

Blaise relented with an exasperated half-smile. “I hate to leave a commitment before seeing it all the way through, but it seems we’re needed elsewhere.”

“Does it count as a commitment if you invited yourself along?” Theo mused.

“Of course.” Pansy patted Theo’s cheek. “I’ve lectured you on intention about a thousand times. You’d think a professor would have a higher aptitude for retaining information.” She smirked. “Try not to meddle too much while I’m away, alright?”

Blaise and Pansy set off for home as soon as they all returned to their main site, following a quick round of goodbyes and an unexpected embrace for Hermione from Pansy.

Despite the brief distraction, the day’s ordeal left them all in poor moods, and Hermione had quickly made the decision to regroup and begin again the following morning. 

A difficult choice considering their nearing departure, but one she felt confident was necessary. 

The relieved and grateful looks she received from everyone smothered her guilt.

Once back in their cabin, Draco shut himself behind his bedroom door without a word.

She assumed he wanted a shower and some time to recover so she did the same, and afterwards, she curled up on their sofa to read.

The longer time went on, the more her anxiety grew, so much so she realized to her horror that she’d been absently rolling the corners of her pages. 

She smoothed them with her wand and set the book aside. 

It had been hours since he’d disappeared.

Telling herself she only wanted to see if he was alright, she stood.

But before she could even take a step, Draco emerged from his room, barely glancing her way before he headed for their front door.

He wore black swim trunks. With no shirt.

Her mouth suddenly dry, she struggled to speak. "Where are you going?" 

He didn’t look at her as he answered emotionlessly. "To have a swim. I won't be gone for long."

"It's winter," she complained, but he didn't seem to care, easing the door closed as he left her alone.

As much as it hurt, she understood.

She could see the silent war raging in his mind, his promise from the night before suffering from the heavy blow of Aite’s warnings.

Even with Hermione’s hatred for prophecy, she’d constantly fought her own battles over how much she was required to let them dictate her actions.

Draco believed the omens and future visions even more.

The thought of him avoiding her because of it made her feel like she was being flayed. 

Because what if they were wrong? 

What if the person she really needed to be with had nothing to do with being an Omega? What if it was just the person who would support her and give her the space she needed to save the forest and to help heal people in her own way?

What if she’d placed too much stock in how others interpreted a vague fucking prophecy?

Remembering how Neville had challenged Aite’s motives, her lungs seized.

What if she’d been coerced intentionally? 

Again.

Rushing to her room to search through her clothes for her swimsuit, she changed and cast a strong warming charm over herself before following after him.

Thankfully, it was a short distance.

When she reached the hilltop, she paused to slow her breathing to normal and to take in the mesmerizing sight.

Illuminated by moonlight and the pale blue glow of the water, Draco sat on the stones beside the pool's sloping entrance, half submerged so that she could only see from the middle of his back and up.

Quietly, she continued towards him, but her feet stuttered when he turned his head to look over his broad shoulder, fixing her with a frustrated glare.

She recovered after only a few pounding heartbeats, his dangerous expression no longer the deterrent it would have been months prior, but a breath-quickening source of provocation. 

Because she knew him now. Knew of the fire burning just beneath the surface of his hard exterior, how his eyes would glow white hot instead of narrowed gray and the downturned curve of his mouth would shift to a ravenous show of desire at the slightest brush of her fingertips. 

She walked slowly, prolonging the opportunity to drink him in. The muscles along his back rippled from the slight twist of his torso, the sharp angles of his face framed by fallen strands of white-blonde hair, how his biceps appeared even larger as he leaned against the stones. 

She could stare at him for ages.

As she drew closer, his gaze retained its coldness, but she could see the rush of his pulse through the thick muscle connecting his shoulder and neck, his scent gland filling the air with its intoxicating twist of evergreen smokiness. She swayed slightly, keeping her own expression neutral as she set down her wand and then stepped into the surprisingly warm water, continuing past where Draco reclined against the rocks so she could stand at the edge of the sloping stone platform that served as the point of entry.

Even as she faced away, his returned observation was evident, a physical path burning along her skin.

Draco's magic singed through her too, electric and hot with irritation.

"Go back inside, Granger."

Focused on the shimmering blue falls, she kept her voice soft and soothing. "No."

A harsh breath preceded his response. "We're warned to avoid one another, yet you decide not only to follow me, but to do so while recreating the image I used every fucking time I got myself off for a year?"

The thought made her Omega light with pride. "Every time?"

He sighed, revealing she was testing his patience with the casual dismissal of what he believed held true. "Until I had better memories of you to replace it."

Her Omega liked that even more.

"Do you want to know a secret?" She asked, keeping her voice conversational and continuing on without giving him time to acquiesce. "When that photo was taken? I had sworn off relationships for good. I was in quite a bad—" She paused, shrugging slightly. "Well, worse—mental state. I didn't even have any interest in dating for the purpose of sating my physical needs." Looking over her shoulder as he had, she couldn't resist taking in the displayed expanse of his chest before meeting his gaze once more. "But god did I want you."

Possessiveness sparked in his eyes. "Yeah? Even then?"

She hummed an agreement. "I didn't like you, of course. So it wasn't a healthy attraction. But if we had happened to cross paths while I was on holiday? You could have insulted me, could have said you despised me and my dirty blood. But it still wouldn't have kept me from trying to tempt you into having sex with me."

Within his shared magic, she could feel his frustration burn hotter, but it came gilded with a layer of curiosity and need. A flexing jaw was his only outward change. "How would you have gone about it?"

She turned back to the falls, her own scent gland throbbing at her neck. "I don't know." She rubbed her palm against the aching skin. "By saying something stupid probably.”

His low voice only made her ache there even more. “And what, specifically, do you think you would have said?” 

Thinking back to her fantasies from then, she answered truthfully. “That you could have me any way you'd like if you could catch me first."

There was a quiet series of splashes, as if he'd shifted in the water. "I can say for certain that would have been effective."

A surge of anticipation followed his dark but newly lust-laced words, emboldening her to carry on with her hastily made plan. "I wouldn't have made it easy on you then, with no Omega willing to give in to anything your Alpha wants. I would have demanded a challenge after being caught. Fought you for dominance even though I desperately hoped for you to want to be the one to claim it in the end." She looked back to find him visibly tense, the silver of his irises so bright she thought they might sear her skin. "So much frustration," she murmured. "Would have been an excellent outlet. Don't you think?"

When he left her question unanswered, she opted for a more direct approach, hooking her thumbs into the strings tied at her hips.

"Leave it on."

Her attention snapped back to his at the rough command, her hands stilling at her waist as her Omega began pleading to run.  

"The only one who's going to tear those goddamn scraps from your body is me."

When she only stared, transfixed by his changing demeanor, he nodded expectantly towards the crystalline pool waiting behind her back.

She inhaled deeply.

The shallow dive did little to ease her rising temperature as she swam below the surface towards the falls, her pulse beating wildly at the thrill of his pursuit as much as at the exertion.

The water was so clear she could easily see where she was going, and unlike the anxiety inducing current she'd encountered in the river, the calm warmth surrounding her made all of her troubles seem very far away.

With her lead, she'd at least get to the cave-like spot where she and Draco had spent hours during their first heat before he'd be able to reach her.

Her mind was still clouded with the memories of it when something heavy banded around her stomach, hauling her to the surface despite how hard she resisted.

Fuck. 

He was faster than she had anticipated.

She'd only made it halfway across the pool.

Growling in defeat, she kicked at the water and shoved against his forearm, though admittedly not as forcefully as she could have, her Omega ready to beg for more of his touch.

Draco wrapped his other arm around her thighs, keeping her well above the surface as he spoke, stilling her with a warning scrape of his teeth against her shoulder blade first. "I know you have more fight in you than that. Again."

When he let go, she changed direction, swimming towards the pool's edge, where she'd hidden her mostly bare body from him the first day they swam together. 

But this time she held no delusion that her ability to reach the stone steps was anything less than by his design.

He caught her before she could stand in the shallower water, dragging her backwards into his chest as she struggled in earnest, shoving and pulling against him, all to no avail.

The most she could manage was to engage him in a dance-like series of turns.

She ended up facing him as he turned them again, and it took every ounce of willpower to keep fighting when his mouth fell harshly against hers, her Omega desperately ready to give in.

But she wasn't ready.

Too intrigued by what was so familiar yet also entirely new. 

The trust she had in him alone was already taking her to unexplored mental heights.

Still meeting his rough licks and scrapes of teeth with her own, she clawed at his back.

His answering growl and slight bend of his knees gave her the advantage she sought, and she kicked off from the stone beneath her, the momentum sending him falling back onto the next step with her following directly after, the water providing just enough resistance to avoid any lasting pain against her knees.

She didn't waste a moment, straddling him and grinding down on his hard cock as her fingers tugged at his hair.

His own hand wove into the curls at the back of her head, tightening his grip and then forcing her away from his mouth. He looked down at her with the same serious expression. "I know you can feel how easily I can get inside you. Stop holding yourself back so I can."

"I don't have my wand," she gritted, her annoyance growing when she realized he did have his. "What else should I do?"

The hint of a sneer conjured old memories and made her struggle to break free of his hold. "You know exactly what I want."

She did, and at the realization he was waiting for it, her fight transformed to a pursuit of pleasure once more. She pressed roughly against his cock, delighted by his ragged curse as much as she was by the glare he leveled at her for feigning innocence.

Even though it was the only leverage she had, she chose not to make him suffer for long. "Where?"

His eyes sparked, and his hips jerked upwards. "Anywhere you'd like."

She met him with a challenging quirk of her brow and a quick flash of teeth. "You're sure?"

His hands landed on her hips, his grip bruising as he controlled her motions. "Don't test me, Omega. If you want to bite—"

She surged upward, covering his mouth with hers to keep him from completing his reply, but the ground she'd gained was lost again as soon as he shoved aside her bikini bottoms and slid his fingers inside her, the smooth action aided by ample slickness so that he struck deep enough to vanish all of her thoughts.

She gasped against his lips. "Not...f-fair."

"You say after teasing me." His other hand pulled at her hair while he eased his fingers out, thrusting back in harder. "Since when are you too afraid to do what you want? Such a delicate princess—"

Her growl came out as a moan as she shook her hair free to get back to his mouth, licking and nipping at him while she moved her hips in tandem with his hand. 

Dazed by the intensity of the sensations, she bit down hard on his bottom lip, sucking it into her own mouth before releasing it to kiss and lick down his jaw so she could bite hard into his neck, too. Flattening her tongue, she lapped over the mark she'd created there. "I'm a queen now, remember? And I will do what I want."

He hummed in blatant satisfaction. "There she is," he drawled, and the hand that was in her hair drifted down so that his fingers spanned from her spine to the scent gland beside her shoulder, curling over the muscle there and applying meaningful pressure, dragging a cry from her throat. "Anywhere else?"

Lulled by the promise of pleasure and relief, she dropped her hips, her mouth parting on a gasp against his own scent gland as he gave deliriously strong pulses inside her cunt, sending her spiraling into dark depths of ecstasy.

As soon as the orgasm dragged her under, she sank her teeth into his skin on instinct, hard enough she knew it would leave bruised indentations right over his scent gland just like the ones on his neck.

She held the bite while her body trembled violently, her hips writhing on his fingers while her nails scraped at his back.

A low growl vibrated in his chest as he crushed her to him. "Fuck me, that feels good."

Still shaking at how good he'd made her feel, she gasped when he stood, water splashing around them as he forced her back into the wall of smooth rock, his fingers slipping free so he could take hold of his wand.

Before she could even comprehend what his aim was, he tapped her top so that it fell from her chest, but instead of letting it keep falling, he flicked the wand again so that the thick strings of fabric wrapped around each of her wrists, forcing them together above her head as the hold on them tightened. 

Testing the strength of the charm, she found she couldn't move them at all, and she moaned his name, the will to fight against him draining to nothing at having been completely ensnared.

A thumb swiped over her breast as he looked down between them, his mouth spreading into a grin of sharp teeth and triumph, a predator enjoying the spoils of his hunt. His palm squeezed where he supported her by her arse. "You're so goddamn beautiful, Granger."

Flames burned beneath his touch as her eyes fluttered.

So distracted by how thoroughly he'd taken control, her breath stuttered in surprise when he pushed her swimsuit to one side and rubbed the thick head of his cock roughly over her clit, his own attire obviously having been dealt with. Barely a moment passed before he guided himself into her, the slick from her previous orgasm allowing him to fill her with one long steady stroke.

Breathing his name again, she relished the feeling of being consumed both inside and out. 

He wasn't gentle.

And she was glad for it.

He continued on and on and on, hitting hard and deep within her cunt until they were both breathless and covered with a sheen of perspiration in spite of the chilled air.

Suddenly overwhelmed by the need for clarity, she gathered all the strength she had left into her voice. "You still...want to be together, don't you?" Beyond caring about her own vulnerability, she silently begged him as she tilted her head to meet his piercing gaze. "They won't tear us apart?"

Shadows overtook his features, like smoke, merciless and uncontainable and lethal, but the brush of his hand against her cheek was devastatingly gentle. "Let them try. I'll gladly embrace the title they've so graciously given to me."

Whatever she was going to say in reply got lost as he fucked into her harder, his dark reassurance sending her mind into a blissfulness equally as strong as her body's. 

A raging heat built low in her stomach.

"Is that going to make you come?" She could hear the twisted amusement in his voice.

“Oh god, Draco…Alpha…I—” She broke off on a strangled cry, struggling against the bindings at her wrists as he kept his harsh pace. “Yes it is…absolutely going to make me come.”

He made satisfied groan. "What is it you like most? Knowing I'd take you as my queen of destruction? Or that I’d strike down all who would dare defy you and lie them at your feet for judgement."

“Both,” she choked out.

The heat and pressure caused by the imagery he’d created turned volatile, expanding outward from where her cunt gripped and pulsed around his cock, ravaging through every nerve ending in her body in an instant.

She buried her face into his chest to subdue her cries, and the contented sounds that rumbled against her lips set off more bursts of pleasure.

“So fucking perfect…my Omega. You’re so perfect when you come for me.”

As if the Omega sought to please him even more, her body dragged out the orgasm longer, leaving her whimpering beneath Draco as his own body began to tense.

His forearm flattened against the stone beside her head, his strokes piercing through the enormity of her bliss. “Going to come for you now, too.”

His hips pressed in tight as he cursed, the hand on her arse bruising as he hit impossibly deep, his cock jerking inside her cunt.

Again and again.

He breathed heavily over her until her own spasms faded into gentle aftershocks around his heavy knot. 

Because her hands weren’t able to swipe away the tears tracking down her cheeks, she closed her eyes instead. 

Draco must have retrieved his wand, because he freed her arms and she wrapped them around his neck instinctively.

“Shh.” He soothed her as he wiped the wetness from her face himself. “I’ve got you.”

His voice was light, comforting, without any trace of the frustration from before.

He carefully lowered them back into the warm water, arranging her in his lap and stroking along her spine and shoulders with the faintest touch.

The fond smile she found when she looked up made her breath catch, her words coming out in a hoarse whisper. "Did you mean it?"

His own words were steady and sure. "Yes. I'm done trying to pretend I could let you go."

Relaxing into his hold with her body sated and limp from exhaustion, she sighed when he rested his jaw atop her hair. 

She pressed a soft kiss to his throat. "So am I, Draco."

Chapter Text

Hermione couldn't sleep, and Draco claimed he couldn't either.

Despite how little rest he'd gotten prior nights, she didn't question him, allowing herself to believe the electric rush of endorphins and nervous excitement keeping her awake similarly sustained him.

They'd settled back into his bed after returning from the pool, tangling themselves together with their faces close as they talked into the small hours of the morning.

As if he knew she needed time to process the events of the day, he had led her consistently towards the easy topics. They talked about the study, their opinions on contested magical theories, their friends, muggle concepts he was curious about, and their likes and hobbies.

She appreciated his attempt. Even though every word either of them spoke, no matter how common, held the heavy weight of commitment she struggled to keep properly balanced.

It was wildly surreal.

The previous night, they had admitted to their mutual interest in a true relationship with an unspoken understanding that the cord tying them together could fray and snap at any moment. It was a disheartening but unequivocal conclusion that the tether would eventually fail. 

But the first time an external force challenged its tensile integrity, they’d found that it not only withstood the test but also had somehow strengthened, doubling in on itself and drawing them closer than ever.

With new and seductive promises of devotion.

It felt like standing at the edge of a high coastal cliff, breathtaking and terrifying and freeing all at once. 

Because despite her own precarious loss of equilibrium, Draco was there to hold her steady. In her mind and in her body, his fingers running through the outer layers of her curls and every so often, stroking against her scent gland in a circuit that left no opportunity for her anxiety to build beyond what she could withstand.

She finally gave in and brushed her hair from her neck to offer him full access.

“Feels good,” she sighed, well aware of the serene smile on her lips, lacking any of the reluctance she usually had about him using the mysterious ability to soothe her.

She needed it.

“It's calming for me, too,” he said, changing his caresses to trail over her from shoulder to shoulder as his gaze burned even brighter.

The possessiveness she found there was undeniable. 

How he looked at her like he wanted to take her and hide her away from the rest of the world.

An enticing voice in the back of her mind whispered that maybe she should let him.

But the respite she found encircled by his protective flames came with an unintended extrication of the carefully tucked away bottle of her psychological wounds, its long-undisturbed seal melting in warm drips of wax against her mind, leaving its contents to spill free all at once. So she shoved it all into a mental cupboard and slammed the door. Still, the odd memory or two had escaped, serving her an unwelcome dose of guilt along with the reminder of how incredibly inept she judged herself to be as a partner.

Dawn light filtered through their window, as if mocking her for the words she’d held back from him all night.

She couldn’t restrain them a second longer.

“I’m scared, Draco.”

Relief infused his expression, making her wonder if he’d been waiting hours for her to admit it.

“I know,” he said, his fingers increasing pressure against her skin. “Im not asking you not to be."

"I don't know how to do this." She worked to keep her voice from trembling. "I'm afraid of doing something wrong."

She refused to expend any more of her energy on prophecy, but the absence almost made things worse. Because he would be the one to suffer if she made a mistake. What if she made another error that couldn't be undone? 

The thought sent her into a free fall of panic. 

His hand trailed up her neck, his thumb brushing along her cheek. "You've been doing everything perfectly so far."

She dropped her chin. Of course it was easy to manage for a single day...

He tilted her face back to his, the self-confidence he usually exhibited extending to their new relationship with a surety she envied. "We'll sort through it together."

Letting his words cover the worst of her fears, she nodded into his palm. "I can't promise I'll stop being afraid. Or that I won't need your reassurances." She gave him a sincere smile of gratitude for appearing more than willing to provide anything she needed from him. "But I'm certain of one thing. I am truly and unbelievably happy, Draco.”

He knew her body intimately in every way, just as she knew his, but seeing him smile, especially at her doing, never ceased to set off flustered swoops inside her middle. 

His gaze dipped to her cheekbone, and his smile grew at the redness she assumed he found there. “So fucking cute.” He shifted to his back, pulling her along and arranging her comfortably against his chest. “I didn’t know it was possible to feel like this.”

She rested her chin against the back of her wrist, raising a questing brow at him when he reached for his wand. 

They both watched the glowing form of his dragon patronus emerge, its wings and tail tucked close but still barely fitting in the large space between the bed and wall. 

Ending the spell just as quickly, Draco returned the wand to the table. “Couldn’t resist the curiosity.”

“You thought it changed again?” This time, she had no doubt he could see her blush deepening at the idea of him using thoughts of her to cast it. “Did you alter the memory you used when it changed the first time?”

If she didn’t know any better, she would think he was experiencing similar feelings to her own. “I did.”

“Which did you choose?” She asked, her curiosity piqued as well.

“Still you,” he said, his voice low and his fingers soothing her again. “In my bed just as we are now.” He swallowed heavily enough for his throat to draw notice in her periphery. “When you called me a good man.”

The confession stunned her into brief stillness.

She’d said it right after he’d promised to give her the time she needed, even before he understood why, devoted to the endeavor for no other reason than because she asked. Hope bloomed for her own contribution at realizing maybe she’d returned his favor with something equally as covetous and scarce to him.

“It’s true.” She stared into his silver irises, her own lashes fluttering at their slow fade into narrow lined rings. “I meant it, Draco. Though I didn’t expect it to affect you quite as much then.”

With her position, she felt his huff of amusement more than heard it. “I’m sure it will shock you to learn I don’t often receive compliments to my character. Earning one from the Brightest Witch herself, while I was still inside her no less…” He flashed a wolfish smile. “Did wonders for my ego.”

It was a bid for levity, and she accepted it, sensing his own insecurities had emerged. 

Laughing softly, she shifted upwards and brushed her lips against his. “You’re terrible.”

He nipped at her bottom lip and then smirked. “I am.” Teasing along her spine until he reached her arse, he grabbed a bare cheek until his fingertips dug into her skin. “But, lucky for me, you seem to be into it.”

A single search of friction from her hips landed her on her back, caged in by Draco’s much larger frame. 

“Oh god...” Her breathing turned erratic when he licked and kissed down her neck, the barely-there scrape of his teeth against her scent gland nearly stealing her consciousness before he continued to work towards her breasts. “That phrase…fails to encompass…how obscene…”

Footprints sounded against the wood planks of their veranda before she could finish her thoughts.

No, not footprints.

Hoof prints.

Draco was dangerously close to taking her nipple into his mouth when she gently guided his face to look up at her. 

It seemed to take him a moment to understand why she’d interrupted.

“For fuck’s sake,” he said, shifting to his back and running a hand roughly through his white blond hair. “When we leave here, I’m taking you back to my manor where I control who's allowed in.”

She dressed quickly, amused by Draco’s desire to have her to himself even though fear over what a centaur could possibly need with them so early in the morning filled her with dread.

A moment after she opened their cabin’s door, she inhaled sharply, carefully retracing the impulsive step she’d taken before fully examining the sight.

There were no centaurs.

If she could only decide how best to—

“Granger, what—”

When she whipped her head towards Draco while frantically waving him off, he stopped, thankfully catching on without question and silently moving behind her with a hand to her hip. 

His fingers flexed the moment his line of sight matched hers.

“The basilisk skins,” she whispered. "That must be what it wants, right?"

"Never expected it to be so easy to hand them over." His warmth disappeared while he retrieved the rope of scaled snake skins.

But when he crossed the veranda and held the rope in his outstretched palm, carefully advancing so as not to scare the unicorn, the creature backed from the first wooden stair and turned away. 

After a few steps down the path, it paused, tossing his horned head at them in what seemed a great deal like confusion.

"Should we follow?" She asked quietly.

"I'm assuming it wants us to."

They took several tentative steps, and the unicorn started off again, slowly as if to lead them along.

Draco draped the rope of snakeskins over his back as he had before, their resistance to magic leaving few transport options. Once again, it made for an intimidating sight. Then he raised his wand to cast a nonverbal silencing spell.

"How well-versed are you on formalities and customs of unicorns?"

She slipped her hand into his, and he held tightly. "The DRCMC has resources I've been allowed to study, of course, but the majority of their behavior is still largely a mystery."

He made an annoyed sound. "So we're going to have to rely on luck. With the two of us, this should go well."

Lifting his hand in hers, she settled his arm around her shoulders, the contact against her scent gland calming them both as they continued to follow the graceful creature farther into the forest. "There are theories that they can sense the intent of those around them. It's possible they want to help us because our goal is to heal other magical beings. It's how horns are traditionally harvested. I was hoping it could be similar for us."

"Let's hope you're right."

They followed along quietly for a while.

Although her job revolved around caring for creatures, this particular type proved more elusive than any others. "You know, I've never been this close to one before."

Draco almost managed to hide his slight misstep.

"What is it?" She asked.

"Unfortunately, I have. Just not a living one."

It took a mental reminder that they couldn't risk stopping to keep her from doing just that. "Please tell me he didn't force you to watch him hunt."

The sneer in his voice made her anger burn higher. "I would have preferred it over having to see his spelled trophy every time I was required in our drawing room."

Swallowing back the sudden thickness in her throat, she whispered an apology.

His thumb rubbed gently against her skin. "I hated it then. But it ended up working in my favor. It's too bad he's gone. I would have loved to see the look on the bastard's face when he found out the reason you and I crossed paths after years apart was because of his barbaric decor choice."

Understanding took over her. "That's what you gave Castor and Pollox. You promised to return the horn in exchange for allowing you to join the first study."

From the corner of her eye, she could see him smirk down at her. "Bribery is efficient."

She only glanced away from the unicorn for a second, but even that was enough to catch the masked wariness in Draco's expression, and another revelation hit her even more forcefully than the first, her words coming out in a small gasp. "You didn't know..." Until his hold on her began to slip away, she hadn't even realized she'd stopped moving. "Did you?"

He had turned back towards her, his jaw tense and brow raised in question. 

But his refusal to answer all but confirmed her suspicions.

"You weren't even on speaking terms with Theo at the time, and he and Neville were the ones to negotiate on your behalf. You didn't know the centaurs only allowed you to be here because you had the horn. You'd planned to give it to them anyway. And Theo knew that, didn't he?"

He sighed. "It doesn't matter what I wanted, it was still very much a transactional encounter."

"And you said I disregard the principle of intention. You are aware it applies to you as well?" 

As expected, he brushed off her words with a casual indifference.

So she did what she knew would get through to him, stepping forward and rising to her toes so she could pull him down to meet her mouth. 

She didn't kiss him as she had a thousand other times, with the feverish urgency encouraged by her Omega. 

It was soft, and chaste, simple in physicality while holding the vast complexities of her feelings for him, the shape of her lips speaking of his goodness in a language she knew he would be able to translate. 

Neither of them made an attempt to deepen the kiss.

But they didn't end it either.

The rational part of her mind reminded her that they were supposed to be focused on their task, that it was the only chance they would get to find the unicorn herd and by some miracle get the ingredients they needed for the potion. But somehow it felt equally important to memorize the gentle pressure of his mouth against hers, to breathe in the scent she craved unendingly, to count the heavy beats of his pulse beneath her fingertips. 

It felt like a promise.

An origination.

Like a seal of the unity they'd only spoken of before.

Time became a meaningless concept to her.

And her anxiety from before melted into nonexistence. 

Maybe it meant they could be—

Draco broke their connection on a sharp inhale, but strands of his hair falling against her forehead as his pressed against hers eased the loss. "Granger, we need to—"

"I know..." she breathed, torn between opposing desires. She said a silent prayer to the universe and all its power that the unicorn had waited and would lead them farther despite their distraction. 

They separated, simultaneously turning to where the blindingly white creature still stood at the bottom of a moderate incline.

But it wasn't alone. 

Draco took her hand, gripping it almost painfully. "There must be..."

More than a hundred of them. She thought as he trailed off in awe.

The hill before them appeared like it was covered in snow, what must have been the entire herd meeting them at once, with all ages represented.

Hermione found herself unable to comprehend the sight.

Unicorns rarely made contact with humans, and the ones who did were almost always solitary. 

She'd never heard of anything like what they were currently witnessing, and she doubted Draco had either.

The silencing spell dissolved around them, but it didn't matter. Neither of them dared to speak. 

They only waited, hand in hand, unsure of what would happen but far too desperate to waste the opportunity. 

Finally, the herd showed signs of acknowledgment, parting so that a path between the two groups lead to the hilltop. But before they could decide if they were to climb, another unicorn stepped into the newly shining light of the sunrise, descending leisurely until it stood directly before them. 

It didn't take a scholar to understand the ancient bearded creature served as the leader. 

The entire scene gave an impression bordering on the ceremonial, the unicorns all bowing their heads at once, including the one closest to them. 

She was still weighing their options when Draco released her hand and stepped forward, taking the stringed snakeskins from around his shoulders and holding the rope in his open palms. 

The unicorn kneeled, allowing Draco to drape the iridescent curtain of shed basilisk hide over its head until it rested against its chest and fanned out over the ground.

Finished presenting his gift, Draco backed  away, his hand finding hers again as soon as he was within reaching distance. 

But their equine-like audience remained unmoving, even the one still kneeling only a few meters away.

Hermione spoke as quietly as she could. "Are they offering to let us harvest the horn?"

The position was correct, and they'd completed the traditional offering of something valuable in return. But something about the enormity of the gathering made her question it.

"Maybe. But I think we're meant to wait," Draco said, just as quietly, obviously coming to the same conclusion she had.

The lack of sleep was beginning to weigh on her, and she suspected the only reason she was able to remain standing was because of the stabilizing flow of power from the man beside her. "Do you think they want something from me as well?"

His thumb rubbed against the back of her hand. "Judging by the insane amount of magic I'm pouring into you, I assume you're already giving to them."

"I...didn't realize."

Before he could respond, the same unicorn that had been on the steps of their cabin came forward, approaching its kneeling elder with observable reverence.

Little was known about how they communicated, but it was abundantly clear they had some form of nonverbal language because the older unicorn performed an unmistakably deliberate  nod.

She watched in stunned discomfort as the young unicorn lowered its sharp-tipped horn to the other's bowed head, slicing a shallow single line that dripped a trickle of metallic blood down to the base of its own horn, the viscous substance following the spiraled groove until it was filled with the glint of silver.

It was then that the elder rose, allowing the other unicorn to step aside so it could close the space to where she and Draco stood. 

Then it kneeled directly in front of them.

"You should do it," Draco said, retrieving a spelled jar and enlarging it to the necessary size. 

The silver blood no longer dripped. In fact, she was almost completely sure it had hardened into a twisted stripe of platinum.

"No," she said, refusing to give credence to the implied doubt of his worthiness. "We should do it as one."

He didn't argue with her.

Hermione held her breath as they began the harvesting, worried they'd perhaps misunderstood and would not be permitted to take the blood infused horn that was so close to being within their grasp.

But her fear was unfounded. 

Their cuts were precise, meeting in the exact center and severing the life-giving item so that they could levitate it carefully into their container for safekeeping. 

"Thank you," she said to the unicorn, her emotion rising at the evidence of its sacrifice even though she knew the horn would soon regrow. 

After stowing the last ingredients needed for the potion they needed to help Pansy and Ginny and so many others, she and Draco held on to one another as they watched the herd of unicorns slowly disappear over the hill once more.

When the last drifted from view, she had an odd feeling they wouldn't be able to find them again even if they'd decided to climb to the higher ground.

Their matching sighs of relief caused them both to devolve into lighthearted amusement. 

“I can’t believe that just happened,” he said.

"I told you I would help you," she said, grinning up at him. "You shouldn't have doubted me."

His big hand landed against the small of her back as he guided her towards the main path, his voice light and carefree. "Never again."

Even with the night of no sleep and the time she'd spent giving of her power, the walk back was effortless, both of them energized by the impossibly of their success and undeniably good luck.

But it seemed their luck couldn’t last forever.

Because waiting for them in front of their cabin were five centaurs.

Four she didn't know.

And Aite.

A pit opened in Hermione's stomach, and Draco angled himself so that he stood slightly in front of her. 

In an attempt at diplomacy, she nodded towards the troublesome centaur. "Is there something we can help you with?"

Aite's hard expression didn't change in the slightest. "The alphas have decided this insolence has gone on long enough. You are no longer welcome in the Forbidden Forest. Not until you are bound to a proper mate."

Frustration burned along her skin. "But what about the trees and—"

Atie spoke over her. "You have until the sun reaches its highest point in the sky to gather your belongings."

Chapter Text

"How long will it take to brew?" Neville asked, straightening a stack of parchment in the middle of the table.

Hermione shrank their study's compiled data and slipped it into her pocket with a protective charm around it. “By Draco’s calculations, only about two weeks, which is fortunate. The time consuming part will be finding the proper combination and measurements of ingredients."

Hermione and Theo shared one side of a booth while Neville and Luna took up the other, hidden away from other patrons in a secluded corner of the Hog's Head Inn. 

Draco had taken a portkey home to begin the potion while the others finished organizing their findings from the past two weeks while discussing future plans.

Their departure from the Forbidden Forest had been a whirlwind of collecting soil and specimen samples, recording final notes, checking charmwork, tidying, and gathering their belongings.

It was frustrating but manageable. 

A battle she chose not to fight.

And neither had any of the others. Not even Draco. 

They were all too overwhelmed with the success of having found what they needed to cure those in their community who were in danger of losing their magic.

"Your magic is very bright today, Hermione," Luna said, bringing her attention back to the present. "It's nice to see you so untroubled."

Warmth crept over Hermione's cheekbones.

Before she could offer a reply of thanks, Theo finished his gulp of butterbeer and smacked his glass onto the wood surface. "She's right that it's nice, but how you manage while spending so much time with our misanthropic friend remains a mystery to me. I've know him since birth and never once felt less troubled in his presence."

Neville chuckled into his own glass. "I'm sure he feels the same about you, love."

Hermione and Luna bit back their own laughter at Theo's spreading grin. "Fair. But at least I don't have the same penchant for the dramatic. He wouldn't say a single word to me for months."

"He did give a rather convincing speech on how much he regretted that," Neville said.

Theo made an amused noise. "Wonder where he learned how to apologize properly."

Three pairs of eyes turned to her, and, annoyingly, her face heated even more.

Luna smiled across from her. "He seems happier, too, you know."

It eased a bit of the fear compressing her chest. 

Their conversation about her and Draco's relationship, with their lightheartedness and seemingly genuine support, it made her wonder if some of her anxiety had been unfounded.

Luna bought the four of them another round of butterbeers as an acceptable reciprocation to receiving Hermione's continuous flow of power, insisting she needed to give back even though Hermione assured her several times she didn't expect anything in return.

They celebrated their progress and hard work with a well deserved break.

A hour passed before they had to say their goodbyes to Luna, wishing her well on her upcoming travels to deliver the keynote address at a convention centered on de-stigmatizing class XXXX beasts.

Neville coordinated a time to help Hermione with the pheromone inhibiting potion but was eager to get back to the castle, and Theo, who still had another day of no classes, offered to assist her and Draco with the potion.

Hermione agreed wholeheartedly, taking out the tapered candle stub serving as their portkey and placing it between them on the table. They still had another few minutes before it was set to leave.

She didn't even want to think of how much correspondence she'd accumulated since she'd left for the forest, but having someone to keep her company made the task not seem quite as daunting. 

"I have a few things to take care of once I'm home," she said, smirking. "I'm sure you won't mind the opportunity to meddle through my belongings there, too." 

Theo's eyes lit with unabashed glee. "Take as long as you'd like. Then we can apparate to the manor together."

"Oh, well we could," she said. "Or there's the floo."

The shock on his face would have been comical if it hadn't set off every single anxiety alarm inside her mind. "Did you just say floo, as in going from your fireplace to his?"

"Yes?” She drew out the word, feigning confidence. “Is that not a perfectly common mode of transportation?"

His continued incredulity did not make her feel better. "Not amongst purebloods, you silly witch. Blaise, Pansy, and I have never even had floo connections there. We apparate to the front gate and wait for Draco to let us in like civilized magical folk."

Her discomfort at Theo's reaction promptly switched to irritation at a certain blond wizard. "Well how was I supposed to know that?" She all but hissed. "I suggested it for its convenience."

This information clearly delighted Theo. "I think the more interesting question is, why didn't he explain to you that it was anything but that to facilitate?"

"Because pheromones make him stupid," she grumbled.

Theo's loud laugh surprised her, and she was glad they hadn't dropped their silencing charm yet. “He’s not the only one.”

She smacked his forearm with the back of her hand, a retort on the tip of her tongue. But it fell away as soon as she heard her name whispered from the booth behind them.

They both paused to listen.

"...see the Prophet?" Someone asked. "Zacharias is now saying he didn't see her during her heat. They've listed all the other possible Alphas who were there."

Hermione didn't recognize the second voice either. "Ernie's a nice guy. She'd like someone like him, don't you think?"

"Definitely. I'd bet ten galleons that's who it was."

Theo picked up their candle and placed it in her hand, leaving one finger of his own pressed to the wax. No evidence of amusement was left on his face.

A man's voice spoke from behind them. "Did they have to include Malfoy? Anyone with half a brain knows she would never choose him."

The women's vicious laughter was still ringing in her ears when she and Theo landed in her kitchen.

"Are you alright?" He asked her.

She waved him off, starting in on her mountain of unread messages. "Wanted to hex them, but I'm fine. You know as well as I do the rumors are unstoppable. Better to ignore them."

"You would think they'd tire of us after all this time."

"One day," she offered hopefully, hurrying through a reply to a ministry form. "I'll only be a few moments. Make yourself at home."

She grinned down at her writing as he quickly took her offer and disappeared into her sitting room.

After taking care of her the remaining letters and performing a standard bit of monthly ward maintenance, she followed after Theo, surprised to find him still in the same room.

Until she noticed he was staring at the carved figurine on her mantle.

"A gift from Draco?" He asked, grinning mischievously.

"A birthday present of sorts," she replied, willing herself to remain calm.

"You grew quite the attachment to that salamander during our first trip to the forest, didn't you?”

“Would be difficult not to.”

“I caught a glimpse of it yesterday."

"You did?" 

"Seemed to be doing alright."

It made her happy to know Scorch was healthy, even if she didn't get to see for herself.

Theo turned back to the tiny creatures above her fireplace just as the embers sparked. "Not usually his style of craftsmanship, but I suppose he had new inspiration."

"Wait," she said. "He made...?" 

Of course he had.

That explained much more as to why he refused to even acknowledge that it was a birthday present. If he'd had to confess to creating it himself...

Theo hummed. "Powerful protection charm attached to it, too. Maybe even better than one of mine, as much as that burns to admit."

She rubbed nervously at her shoulder. "Well, I was prone to damaging things with accidental magic then."

His delighted grin rendered her effort to soothe herself useless. "It's not to protect the figure. But this entire place. Particularly, anyone in it."

"Oh—I...how did I miss that?" She stared at the figure again but still failed to see anything out of the ordinary.

"Probably because you weren't meant to see it."

She crossed her arms, feeling a little put out. "But you can?"

"Not clearly at first, no. But I've worked with charms long enough, I could see the intention behind the magic."

She tried to comprehend what the revelation meant but couldn’t pin down a logical conclusion, instead feeling like she was grasping at smoke. "We weren't even serious. Not then. Why would he take the time and effort required for such a powerful spell?"

Theo gave her a pitying look that she did not like in the slightest. "I've known Draco a long time. He's always serious. But never more so than when it comes to taking care of something he deems to be his." Waving towards the hearth, his expression turned towards amusement. “Ready to go?”

Hermione grabbed the floo powder and flung it into the fireplace, dragging Theo by the wrist along with her, and they emerged inside the manor’s study.

Draco stepped through the entryway while they were still brushing green dust from their clothing, but he paused as soon as her narrowed gaze landed on his.

“Excellent timing,” Theo said, too brightly. “I was just telling Hermione how privileged she is to have a direct floo connection.”

The look Draco leveled at him set a shiver along her spine. “Make yourself useful for once and go finish setting up our dinner. Pansy and Blaise will be here soon.”

Theo left without argument, shooting her a sly grin as he passed by.

But she was too preoccupied to focus on him, advancing on Draco and glaring up at him. "A protection spell on my flat? Seriously, Draco? And why didn’t you tell me about pureblood floo practices? Have…” Understanding finally clicked into place. “Have you been behaving as if we've been in a real relationship this entire time?”

“Of course not.” He smirked, but she knew him well enough to notice the thread of uncertainty hiding behind the familiar action. “Not the whole time at least.”

“And you didn't think I should be aware?"

"You weren't ready,” he said, turning serious. “I promised to give you time. I never said I needed it as well."

She blinked up at him, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "When?"

"After I followed you home the first time. You obviously wanted to be with me, too. I didn't mind waiting for that big brain of yours to sort through what I already knew."

She supposed his answer was logical. And it didn’t actually change anything given their current relationship status. 

She snatched up his hand and lifted it to her scent gland, sighing in relief when he massaged the line of muscle there and pulled her into his chest. "You could at least pretend to have a sliver of remorse, you know."

"I could,” he said, relief clear in his voice. “But I'm not going to."

She inhaled two deep breaths of his comforting scent and couldn’t help a tiny exasperation-induced laugh. “Why are you such an arsehole?”

She heard Theo snort from the doorway. “I’d love to say you get used to it, but unfortunately I’ve yet to find anyone who has.”

“There’s always time to learn new things,” she said, still clinging to Draco but glaring teasingly at the man who was supposed to be on the other side of the manor, “like how it’s impolite to listen in on conversations you aren’t a part of.”

“You wound me,” Theo said, placing a hand over his heart. “And here I was thinking I played an integral role in this enlightening little chat.”

Hermione laughed, shaking her head at him.

“You’re lucky I’m needed at the front gates,” Draco said, sneering, but there was no real malice in his tone.

He gave a firm press of his lips to hers before apparating to allow Blaise and Pansy in.

They were soon all five gathered around Draco’s dining table eating muggle takeout in a scene Hermione was sure would have made Lucius Malfoy keel over had he not already been dead.

Oddly enough, Hermione didn’t feel out of place among them at all.

The only complaint she had was Pansy’s increasingly agitated mood.

And she seemed to not be the only one to notice it. 

After they finished eating, Blaise finally grabbed the napkin Pansy had been wringing into a wrinkled twist and threw it onto his empty plate. “You might as well tell them,” he said. “Until it changes, they need to be aware.”

Hermione gripped Draco’s hand under the table. “Tell us what?”

Pansy looked like she would rather chew through her wine glass than answer, but she eventually did. "You can't go public with your relationship."

Hermione just stared at her.

"What did you see?" Draco's voice was dangerously quiet.

"Please just trust me," she said. "I tried to fix it. That idiot Smith got to the Prophet before I could get to him. And then this new vision happened and I—"

"Pansy." Draco snapped.

The witch sighed in defeat. "I don't know any details or how severe it could be, but if people find out about the two of you now…” She looked away. “Granger will be hurt."

Hermione felt him flinch. "Hurt how?”

"That's all I saw, Draco. You know the visions aren’t always clear. I can't tell you what isn't there."

"Then have another." His voice was louder, angrier.

"I've tried," Pansy cried helplessly. "I've been trying all day. This is the best I can do. I'm sorry."

Draco didn’t reply, his expression turning cold, like it was in the field of murdered unicorns.

“Thank you for telling us,” Hermione told Pansy, earning a sad smile. 

No one spoke for several moments.

Pansy finally sighed and then turned to her husband. “I’m tired. Take me home, please.”

Blaise immediately led her out.

“And I’ll be in my usual guest room,” Theo said, communicating something silently with Draco that also wasn’t acknowledged. “Honestly.”

The abrupt departures left Hermione feeling a little awkward, but it wasn’t so bad as to cause her anxiety to surface. 

It was just a vision. One that Pansy herself assumed would eventually change.

And she was done worrying about such nonsense anyway.

One glance at Draco let her know he was not of the same opinion.

“I thought we were done caring about prophecy,” she whispered. 

He pushed away from the table and went to the enormous window, leaving her staring at his back. “This is different.”

She followed right after him, thankful he at least returned his thawing attention to her instead of ignoring her as he had the others. “No, it isn’t,” she insisted. “We’re bargaining the safety of others, of our friends, because we know without doubt we can heal them another way.”

“They aren’t you,” he seethed, one hand cupping her jaw while the other pulled her roughly against him. 

Dismissing the sudden urge to give in to her Omega’s needs was almost painful. “I’m no more important than they are.”

“I don’t have the same rationality,” he sneered.

“Well I’m tired of people treating you like you haven’t earned your right to be a part of our society.” She tried to pull her face away.

"Hermione…please.”

Her name falling from his lips stunned her into stillness, all of her frustration dissolving at the sound.

“Don't ask me to ignore her. Not after...” He trailed off, his jaw tensing. “I can't do it again. I won't survive it."

"Alright,” she whispered, nodding against his palm. “We won't tell anyone who doesn't already know. Everyone who does know, they're people we trust. It’s alright,” she soothed. “It will be alright, Draco."

His kiss tasted like gratitude.

Chapter Text

As it turned out, the proportions of ingredients they needed for their potion had been fairly easy to determine thanks to an obscure arithmancy formula Hermione found in the same book Draco had used as a reference for which items they needed to harvest. 

Being the only one among them with a potion’s mastery, Draco had also used his wealth of accumulated knowledge to settle on the most effective method of adding each ingredient.

But so far, they’d had no such luck with the order in which it all should be done.

Hermione pushed aside the formula filled pages she’d been leaning over for hours, careful not to disturb Theo’s similar spread across the table. 

She needed a break. 

Draco stood at a cauldron set up on the other side of the open space in his library, his intense concentration evident in every movement of his body.

Her gaze lingered instinctively as thoughts from their prior evening spent indulging in his luxurious bath, with whispered reassurances of her safety continuously streaming from her lips, surfaced in her mind.

His attention snapped towards her. 

“Come here,” he said softly, returning to his task.

She didn’t hesitate to listen.

Theo, who’d been treating Draco with the care one would a dangerous wild animal since Pansy’s warning, excused himself for tea.

“How many have you been able to try?” She asked, sliding in close to Draco’s side.

His focus remained on the small test brew as he stirred anti-clockwise. “Sixty.”

She sighed, her voice flat as she spoke. “Only three-hundred sixty-two thousand, eight hundred and twenty more to go.”

His jaw flexed. “Have I ever told you how much I dislike muggle maths?”

In this particular instance, she did as well, especially considering they only had a limited source of materials to work with and no means to collect more should the need arise. “It can certainly be bleak,” she admitted. “But arithmancy is no different.”

“Fair point.” He vanished the sticky yellow substance inside his cauldron. “You can subtract one more.”

With his latest failed attempt gone, he relaxed, but only slightly.

She slid her arms around his waist, grateful when he seized the opportunity to grip along her shoulder to calm them both. “Come home with me before I have to leave for Grimmauld Place?”

Stress hung over him like a shroud, but he agreed to accompany her, keeping his hold against her neck until they were stepping through to her sitting room.

“I promised Harry I’d bring a pear crumble for Ginny. Put on a movie if you’d like.”

She’d recently learned that he and Theo had become well versed in the operation of muggle television years ago, but the idea of it still seemed almost laughable.

After she’d finished with the active part of her baking, cleaned, and tackled her ever-growing pile of post left by her owl, she returned to find he’d played the movie she and Ginny had watched and left staged from months before.

But Draco wasn’t watching it. He was standing on the far side of her mantle, lowering his wand from where he’d had it pointed at the figurine he’d given her.

She relaxed into the sofa, crossing her legs beneath her. “You know you don’t have to hide the spell anymore, I already know it’s there.”

“It’s meant to be undetectable to anyone.”

“You could have at least said you'd made it yourself.”

He stilled. "I’m going to hex him when I get home.”

“I’m glad he told me,” she said softly. “I love it even more now.”

The fond smile he returned made her heart beat nearly as fast as one of his seductive ones did.

But the moment was interrupted by the floo roaring to life.

Ginny locked narrowed eyes on Hermione without pausing to glance anywhere else, holding a practice quaffle so tightly between her hands Hermione worried she’d damage it. “How could you have sex with him and not tell me?”

Hermione’s face flamed, her gaze flicking to Draco where he still stood behind an oblivious Ginny.

“Can you imagine what it felt like when I realized how stupid I’d been once I saw that list of options in the Prophet?” She made a noise of disbelief, tossing the quaffle back and forth. “As if it made sense to the people who know you for it to be anyone but him.”

“Ginny,” she pleaded.

“But I thought, surely she would have told me.”

“It’s not—”

“And then I remembered the Witch Weekly article, and it dawned on me that you are a lying little witch, and those were your lying little teeth that left marks on his neck. I knew something was going on with you that day. And you were sat there and listened to me go on about that photo…”

“Gin—”

"Crimes, Hermione,” she wailed dramatically, hugging her quidditch ball for support. “I was deadly serious about that part. You at least owe me some sort of details for your months of deceit.”

Draco cleared his throat.

Ginny spun, squeaking comically, and launched the quaffle in his direction, with a concerning amount of force at someone standing only a broom’s length away.

He caught it easily with one hand, raising a questioning brow.

Ginny recovered, the shock of seeing him dissolving just as quickly as it had arrived, her spreading smile bordering on deranged. “I see the quidditch skills are still there, Malfoy. Practice often?”

Draco seemed begrudgingly amused. “For the exercise.”

Ginny shot Hermione a knowing grin just as a timer went off, and her eyes went wide as she breathed in. “Is that a pear crumble? For me?”

“A peace offering,” Hermione shouted as Ginny disappeared into the kitchen.

She re-emerged carrying the steaming dish right beneath her face looking absolutely delighted. “Offering accepted.”

Hermione rolled her eyes teasingly. “Your standards are atrocious.”

“We’ll continue this conversation at mine.” Ginny paused, half ducked into the floo and looked back at Draco with a mischievous grin. “By the way, lovely new adornment you have there on your neck. I hope you know how lucky you are to keep aquiring them."

She left without another word.

Draco seemed almost disturbed. “It’s like having another Theo around.”

Hermione voiced her agreement, heading to the kitchen and returning with two bowls. “I made an extra crumble for us. Ginny doesn’t like to share. She’s probably off to hide it before Ron shows up.”

Draco wore a strange but pleasant expression as he settled into the sofa, pulling her into his lap, and they watched some of her movie while they ate.

His bowl was empty before she’d even finished half, and she smiled as he summoned the dish to serve himself more. 

“I take it you like it as well?”

He smirked down at her as he finished off another spoonful, and then nodded once. “I can’t remember the last time anyone baked something for me.”

“Just returning the favor,” she said, placing her own empty bowl aside. “You’ve made me food more times than I can count.”

Draco’s bowl soon followed, and he gathered her closer, his focus on the screen as they took the much needed respite from the enormously taxing research they’d done all day.

It struck her at how mundane it all was. Not in a boring sense. But an easy one. 

Like they’d accidentally slipped into another lifetime.

And, in a way, she supposed that they had. 

“I like this,” she whispered.

He rarely appeared so relaxed. “I like it, too.”

She kept her eyes fixed on the couple on the screen. “What do you think of the movie?”

His thoughtful contemplation was unexpected. “It’s better now. He’s not very kind to her in the beginning.”

She studied him for a moment, waiting for him to smirk at his joke.

He did not.

Hermione couldn’t stop the fit of laughter she fell into. Even her attempt to speak had to be halted nearly every word for another uncontrollable gasp and half-stifled giggle. “Draco…you’re not…serious…”

When the hypocrisy of his statement finally showed in his expression, she buried her face into his shoulder to laugh more.

Amusement lightened his voice as he finally joined her show of mirthfulness. “Tell me Granger, do you like this film?”

She lifted her head to look at him, even more in awe at their matching easy smiles. “I’ve watched it about a thousand times and never tire of it. It’s my favorite.”

A few shouted words from the floo redirected their attention. “Hermione, is Gin still there? Harry said she…”

Ron’s voice tapered off as he stepped through, his mouth falling open as he took in what must have been a shocking sight of the two of them together.

Draco tensed beneath her, but when she made no attempt to hide their obvious intimacy, he relaxed once more.

She could practically feel his Alpha's possessive yet entirely unthreatened display.

“What is—?” Ron’s expression darkened. “Friends, yeah? I knew it would only be a matter of time until he manipulated you into giving up more.”

She sat straighter but refused to give Ron the satisfaction of seeing her move from Draco’s lap. “I’m perfectly capable of making my own decisions, thanks. And as far as being manipulated goes, past experiences have taught me which indicators to be wary of. In fact, I recently avoided being auctioned off to the most virtuous Alpha against my will.”

Draco’s hand warmed her neck, and she wondered which of them he sought to calm most.

Ron had turned a worrisome shade of purple. “That’s not what it was like. Mum and I were trying to help you. Of course he had other plans once your status was revealed, right Malfoy?”

”Who am I to contradict your clever deductions, Weasley.”

Draco’s disinterest in defending himself only surprised her a little. But she was on the verge of an apoplectic outburst. Thankfully, the pressure against her scent gland kept her somewhat levelheaded.

She smiled sweetly at Ron, who knew her well enough to look terrified at her shifting demeanor. “Your theory lacks an important bit of evidence. Because my first heat, when none of us even knew why the changes were happening, I’m the one who begged him for sex.”

Draco did nothing to hide his amused sound while Ron stared at them wide-eyed and wounded.

Hermione sighed, reminding herself why she was meant to remain calm. “Please just go back to Grimmauld Place so we can talk about this rationally. There’s a lot I need to fill you all in on.”

“Fine,” Ron muttered, his movements sluggish as he ducked through the hearth once more.

She turned back to Draco. “I’d better go after him before he runs home to the Burrow. Ron would probably rather skip a weeks worth of meals than admit to seeing us so close, but I’d like to be sure he’s warned against it all the same since it’s important to you.”

The appreciation in his gaze made the compromise worth it. “Come back to the manor after?”

She held tight as she pressed a firm kiss to his mouth. “I will.”

He was still lounging on her sofa when she lost sight of him through the floo.

Brushing herself off, she walked straight to the dining table and fell into the chair opposite Harry and Ginny. 

Harry wrinkled his nose and then chuckled.

“Shut it, Harry. Where’s Ron?”

“I didn’t say anything,” he complained and then grimaced. “It might be best we let him cool off a bit.”

“What is Harry shutting it about?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah, Hermione. What is it I shouldn’t admit to?”

Mostly to make Harry uncomfortable, she turned to Ginny. “How much more forgiveness does he need to earn from you for siding with your mum and brother?

“He’s nearly back even.” Ginny grinned. “You know how I feel about quidditch thighs.”

“Well in that case,” Hermione started. “He’s known about Draco since you sent him to apologize in the forest.”

Ginny eyed her husband. “Has he?” 

Harry spluttered, quick with a new diversion. “She told me they had decided to be friends. That they were no longer going to have a physical relationship.”

Ginny scoffed, her expression delighted as they both watched Harry squirm. “Please. Like she could manage that with Malfoy.” She turned to Hermione. “When did you last fail?”

“This morning,” she admitted as Harry muttered the exact same words at the same time.

Ginny’s smile widened. “I’m quite sorry I interrupted before you could have another round.”

Harry’s brow furrowed for a moment as he processed his wife’s words, but then he leveled a bland look at them both. “I’d be cross if I didn’t know I deserved all of that.”

Ginny glared at him with an undeniably false sweetness. “You can’t possibly fathom how easy you have it, Harry Potter.”

Harry’s reaction was to stare back partially afraid and partially smitten and also maybe a hint of something Hermione was going to adamantly deny noticing.

“But right now, Hermione is the one who owes me more than a little honesty.”

Harry shot Hermione a smug look. “Right, well, I’m going to check on Ron for this conversation.” 

After he was gone, Hermione found herself as the one at Ginny’s mercy.“Something to share?”

Hermione blushed. “I don’t know what you want me to tell you.”

“Just give me a single detail. Please?”

"Fine,” she said. “It’s…frustrating." Ginny's gleeful expression vanished, and even though she’d said it to elicit the reaction, Hermione couldn't bare to be the cause of it for long. She hid her face in her palms and groaned. "But only because it is frighteningly addictive."

Ginny shrieked. "I knew it. Exactly how addictive are we talking here?" 

"Enough that I'm...well it's getting more difficult to think of what it would be like existing without it. Being friends didn’t last long.”

“I don't imagine so. But at least you still get the sex.”

“No, not…” Hermione began, then tried again. “It’s important this stays between us, but Draco and I are…after everything we’ve been through…we’re closer.”

Ginny sobered immediately. “How close?”

“Gin…” Hermione whispered, pleading with her friend to understand.

Ginny leapt from her chair.

Anxiety had always struck Hermione the hardest at night.

Even as a child, perfectionism and a natural need for control plagued her, and learning she was a witch didn't ease those troubles as she'd expected. So often, she'd lain awake in the Gryffindor dormitories, riddled with fear over the possibility of missing an exam question or performing poorly on a proficiency demonstration.

Then the war had gotten worse, and she’d eventually been forced to sacrifice every personal goal she’d worked so hard for to instead live out of a tent with her two best friends while hunting down dark artifacts. With the constant threat of capture, heightened awareness became necessary for survival, and when Ron complained of not getting enough rest, she'd taken up his watches in addition to her own, too concerned for him to care that it meant cutting her own sleep cycle more drastically than she already had.

Even after life had gone back to normal, nightmares and the disquiet of her waking mind often led to the time she should have been resting being filled with reading or completing professional tasks far before deadline instead. 

This was different though.

Everything was different.

Because she had never once had someone to witness one of her spirals into distress.

But that was exactly how she’d found herself, lying in Draco’s bed as she told him about her evening at Grimmauld Place. 

Ginny had been supportive at least. And Harry.

But Ron’s reaction had made her nervous. 

He hadn’t trusted Draco’s reasoning for keeping their relationship a secret. And while they had joined together to guilt him into a promise to uphold it, she knew Ron well enough to know that one poorly timed outburst could ruin their effort.

“I should have been more careful about the floo.”

“Stop blaming yourself for something that we have no reason to worry over. If I didn’t trust him to keep your safety in mind, I’d take care of him myself.”

She understood what he was doing, and sharing the burden of responsibility felt quite nice. So much so that she changed the topic to drive away some of her fear. “Tell me something else Pansy has seen.”

Maybe if she knew more about the visions, she would handle them better when they placed a giant fucking target on her life.

“She has frequent visions,” he answered warily. “More in a year than most seers do in a lifetime. I’ve wondered if it’s because of the other changes in our world. What is it you’re most curious about?”

“Tell me something good she saw for your life.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “You. Always you. Even before I wanted to accept it.”

Oh.

The oxygen in the room was too thin all the sudden. 

A thousand dagger sharp uncertainties pierced her all at once.

“Are her visions the reason you never fought to stay away from me? Why you believed we could be together so quickly? Because you expected it to be this way for us from the start?”

“What…? Ah, I see…shh.” He pressed hard against her scent gland, forcibly slowing her stuttering inhales and exhales. “No. I didn’t expect this.” The words left a hint of bitterness in the air, his eyes losing some of their warmth. “I told you, Hermione. I was never allowed the things I truly wanted. I wasn’t delusional enough to believe you would be the one to change that. And I certainly didn’t interpret Pansy’s prophetic visions about us being in close proximity to mean this. It surprised even her. She never knew enough to see why you were there. But she saw you constantly.”

“So as far as you knew, I could have only been around so often because she and I had become friends.”

He gave her a small smile. “That doesn’t make it any less good. I’d still get to be near you.”

She could feel her cheek bones heat. “I think I like this outcome better. Why didn’t you tell me about her when I knew you spent so much time researching divination?”

He glared until she admitted she wouldn’t have accepted the information gracefully.

“She offered to help me,” he said. “To try different methods to disprove the centaurs’ prophecy about you. At first about how you’d have to save everyone, and then about you needing to find a mate so soon. We’re still trying to find…something.”

“I…that’s very kind,” she whispered. “Of both of you.”

But the reality that such an act from them was even still necessary, it sent her straight back into the endless pit holding her anxiety and rage. “It all makes me so angry I could scream. We shouldn’t have to worry about something like this. It should be our decision…and we shouldn’t be punished for not wanting to bind ourselves so…” she trailed off on an animalistic growl. 

Draco’s concerned expression shifted into a familiar desperate hunger at the sound, his hand moving to gently hold her throat. “Would you like an outlet for that frustration?”

“Yes,” she snapped, still incensed by the whole ordeal. “I absolutely would.”

He immediately dragged her beneath him, his voice rough against her ear. “I like this outcome better, too.”

By the time Draco was finished with her, she was in a hazy, blissful state of near unconsciousness.

Despite thinking it an impossibility earlier in the night, Hermione slept quite well.

Chapter Text

A week passed of them spending nearly all of their free time working on the potion. 

With the media frenzy more focused on her potential Alpha counterparts, Hermione had been able to return to work somewhat peacefully, but her breaks and lunches were all spent solving complex magical formulas in hopes of finding a useful narrowing system. 

Draco had been the one to finally have a breakthrough.

By figuring out the unicorn horn and blood had to be added at the same time and that they were required at the very end of brewing, he had managed to shrink their number of possible combinations down to a mere few thousand. Which was still daunting but not nearly as hopeless as before.

Still, it was clear that each continued failure ate at him. Especially after Pansy had been admitted into Mungo’s again, setting off a tense and argument-filled few days between him and Blaise.

Draco had returned to pushing himself past the boundaries of exhaustion, refusing to do more than power through what could barely pass for meals and catch a few hours of sleep before he dove into his fixation with finding a cure once more

Their primary interactions came in the form of desperate and hurried sex in the early morning before she had to leave for work, the high of orgasms and powerful offerings of his magic serving as her source of sustainment throughout the day.

She was still light and surprisingly hopeful as she exited the lift onto her floor at the ministry, her extra reference materials in hand.

But as she turned the corner, she realized the optimistic thoughts were easily misplaced.

Pomona Sprout stood beside her office door. 

With a sick feeling in her stomach, she took her wards down and walked to the entrance, plastering on a polite expression to address the witch. “Is there something I can help you with?”

Her previous professor gave a patronizing look of reproach. “Actually, dear, I’m the one here to help you.”

“Oh…” She let out a disbelieving chuckle then spoke in a tone that was less than polite. “No thank you.” She pushed past the woman and tried to close her door. 

“I’ve been sent to deliver this,” Sprout said, preventing Hermione’s attempt to shut her out by wedging a sturdy envelope between the door and the frame.

A single flick of her wand could have dealt with the intrusion. And she would have done it. Had she not spotted the unmistakable wax-stamped symbol of the minister’s seal. 

Instead, she gritted her teeth, opened a space just wide enough for Sprout to fit through, and then silenced the room behind her. 

“What is it?” She asked, making no move to accept the official document, going about the task of organizing her desk for the day instead.

Sprout smiled thinly. “With the recent stress of your new title as Mother Omega in addition to your regular responsibilities, I fear you haven’t had ample opportunity to truly grasp the importance of the role. I approached the minister to ask for an extended absence on your behalf, which, I’m happy to report, was granted enthusiastically.”

Hermione snapped her head up, summoning the envelope harshly from Sprout’s hands. “You’re interfering with my job?”

Sprout held onto her pleased expression, no sign of remorse nor trepidation. “It’s only temporary. Your position will be held until after the Dawn Celebration. You’ll be mated to a respectable Alpha by then, and everything will return to normal.”

With her body trembling from the anger at Sprout’s insinuation that Draco was not respectable, Hermione tore the letter open, the parchment creasing as her hands tightened around it as she read the damning proof. She dropped it onto her desk and met Sprout’s unrepentant gaze. “I’ve more than exceeded the requirements asked of me here. This was unnecessary. And unfair.”

“Fairness has no place in divination,” Sprout replied. “You were an exceptional student. I’m disappointed you didn’t remember that lesson.”

Hermione’s lips curled into a sneer she thought Draco would be proud of. “Maybe I missed it while fighting a war.”

For the first time since she’d arrived, Sprout’s expression darkened into something that had Hermione’s survival instincts prickling inside her mind. “Then you should have learned it there instead.”

Hermione blinked through her surprise at the implication she hadn’t been made excruciatingly aware of the injustices of being forced into battle so young. “I think you should leave. Now.”

The affronted look on Sprouts face would have been humorous if Hermione had been able to feel such an emotion. 

But the woman did make the intelligent decision to comply.

Hermione spoke to her former professor’s back. “One thing I did learn during my time as a soldier?” Sprout turned just outside Hermione’s office, clearly surprised. “The last thing you want to do is give your adversary time. They’ll always use it against you.”

Hermione shut her door with a sharp flick of her wand.

A scream built in her throat, but she shoved it down, sinking to the floor and lying flat against the cool tiles in an attempt to regulate her burning frustration.

It didn’t help much, but at least she hadn’t yelled. Which was fortunate because she’d forgotten to re-ward her office. 

A fact made painfully obvious when someone knocked a few seconds later. 

Having a good idea of who it would be, she didn’t bother to move.

Harry’s worried face leaned into her line of sight shortly after.

She sighed. “I assume the rumors have reached your department already?”

“For a good ten minutes, yeah.”

“The letter says it’s temporary, but I have a bad feeling that’s only until they make sure I comply with the other obligation they’re forcing upon me.” She closed her eyes. “God, Harry, I’m tired.”

She heard him shifting, and when she opened her eyes again, she realized he’d lain on his back beside her. Some of the crushing weight on her chest lifted.

“I know you are,” he said softly. Then barely audibly added, “I’m still sorry for participating in making things worse for you.”

“I understand,” she said. “I’m worried about her too.”

“She hasn’t cast a spell in four days. I don’t know if she isn’t able or if she’s afraid to try, and to be honest, I’m too damn scared to ask her.”

Despite how close they were to finding a cure, she knew ‘almost’ meant nothing to him when Ginny’s life was hanging in the balance. “I’m sorry. I swear it, I’m not…” Her voice broke. “I’m not doing this on purpose to hurt any—”

“Don’t.” Harry clasped her hand in his and squeezed. “You didn’t do this, Hermione. They did. You never left my side when I had the fate of our whole world put on me. I won’t leave you either.”

She had to spell away the tears stinging her eyes. 

Neither of them moved for a long while. 

“You know,” he finally said, letting go of her hand to fold his arms behind his head. “A few months ago I thought you’d gone a bit mad for doing this, but it’s actually kind of nice. Might have to add it to my weekly schedule.” He huffed a laugh. “Or I suppose I could save office lie-ins for special occasions as well. You were having a rough go that day too. You never did tell me who took you to the forest.”

Hermione looked over with a sheepish expression.

Harry broke into a grin. “I see. Maybe you should let him make this day better for you, too.”

She shook her head at his amusement at his own joke, her curls slipping against the tile. “Not sure I’ll ever get used to you being alright with Draco and me being together.”

“You care about him. Oh, don’t make that face, it’s obvious you do. And it makes Gin happy. That’s good enough for me.” He checked the time with his wand, speaking more gently. “Do you want me to walk with you to the floo?”

“I think I can manage now. Thanks for cheering me up.”

They parted ways with plans for her to visit Grimmauld Place again soon.

After a brief—and unsuccessful—plea to her DRCMC supervisor, Hermione placed a long-term ward on her office and then marched with forced confidence through the crowded atrium towards the fireplaces.

“Hermione, wait up.”

She stiffened, cursing under her breath she hadn’t walked just the slightest bit faster.

“I heard they gave you some time off,” Ron said, stepping in alongside her.

“Gave isn’t the exact word I would use.”

Not for the first time since she’d known him, Ron’s failure to grasp the magnitude of a situation left her unbalanced. “It’ll be good, though, yeah? You’ll be able to have more time to focus on the prophecy. And on that potion Harry told me about.”

“I’m being sacked, Ronald,” she snapped.

“Not really,” he said, effectively undoing all of the progress Harry had made in keeping her anger at a low simmer. “Who doesn’t want a few months on holiday?” His nose wrinkled on one side, letting her know he was about to say something even more obnoxious. “It’ll give you a chance to meet some new people, maybe go on some dates.”

”Dates?” She gritted.

”Well I know you have—”

She glared murderously at him.

He gulped. “The thing I’m not supposed to talk about. But you can see more than one Alpha…” He whispered the word. “…at a time. Loads of people are.”

”Which is fine. As long as that’s what everyone in those relationships wants.”

He must have caught her unspoken insistence it was not what she wanted. “Don’t be so prudish, Hermione. These changes people are dealing with are stressful. Things happen. You don’t think you’re the only one he’s—”

“I’m still me,” she growled at him. “And so is everybody else.”

”Only proves my point, yeah?”

They had reached her destination, and she grabbed the waiting container there.

”No,” she spat.

Green flames burst from the hearth as she threw far too much floo powder, dashing through to put a physical end to the conversation. 

She locked the grate and paced for several minutes to calm herself. 

It didn’t help.

Ron was wrong. For one thing, Draco had spent every second of his free time with her long before they’d agreed to be officially together. And the time they hadn’t, she had no right to expect exclusivity from him then anyway. 

The desperate need to have a partner’s sole attention was something she and Ron had struggled with, and it was a personality trait he still knew exactly how to exploit. 

She refused to fall victim to it. She had enough to worry about already.

For a long moment, she considered going back to the manor, but she stopped herself. Draco didn’t need the distraction, his potion more important than her bad day, so she set about doing things around her flat instead.

She thought about going to see Pansy again as well, but the hospital wasn’t really the appropriate place for her mood either.

At least it allowed her to go through more of the books. 

She probably would have taken the time to fix her bag had she not left it in Draco’s room that morning, opting to carry her reading materials the muggle way. 

So she refreshed a few cleaning charms, had a quick snack, and then immersed herself in research, her determination even stronger after Harry’s admission that Ginny was losing more magic than usual. 

Hours had passed with her curled up on the sofa, scouring every line of text for the smallest helpful detail. 

She’d been so focused on her reading she startled when someone knocked at her door.

But the drifting scent from the same direction had her swaying as she rushed to welcome her unexpected guest.

Draco took a quick assessment of her, his amused expression darkening.

He was pressed roughly against her a half-second later, his face falling to her shoulder at the same time one hand rose to cradle her there as well, melting all of her tension in a firm touch.

“You didn’t come…” He breathed in against her neck. “…back to the manor after work.”

She held on around his torso, a slight shame running through her. “Oh…and I locked the floo. I didn’t realize how late it had gotten. I was ‘temporarily’ removed from my post at the DRCMC today. By the minister himself.”

Draco’s soothing magic turned dangerous. “For what reason?”

“For my own good according to Sprout. She was the one who made the suggestion. And delivered the news. They had the nerve to agree with her even though I’ve kept up with all my work, even with all the time off I’ve had recently. And that’s while I also made time to research the Root Sprites, and help find formulas for your potion, which you are miraculously close to finishing thanks to your dedication. And visit Pansy.” She inhaled sharply, feeling on the verge of panic. “I’ve barely had any time with you at all, and they’re still just…taking things from me. I…god, I’m so—”

He kneaded her scent gland with his thumb and she leaned heavily against him. “I’m sorry, Granger. If I had a decent standing in society, I’d pay a visit to the minister myself to demand you be reinstated. What do Potter and Weasley have to say?”

“Harry’s angry. He apologized again.” She sighed. “Ron thinks it will be good for me.”

She felt him tense at that. “Let me guess,” he sneered. “He thinks it will afford you time to find a suitable mate?”

She growled through an affirmative. “It’s possible I singed some of his hair off when I threw half the jar of powder into the fireplace. He’s also the reason mine is closed.”

“Did he even think to ask what you wanted?” He seethed. “Never mind, I already know the answer to that.”

He took several calming breaths and then eased away, settling on her sofa as he began taking containers from a bag, the faint scent of what she now realized was curry growing slightly stronger but still subdued compared to Draco’s. 

He held a spoon out to her, his eyes flashing knowingly. “Hungry?”

She snatched the utensil and wedged in beside him. “I’m starved.”

He made an amused sound and waited for her to choose from the options he’d brought. After she had, he picked one for himself. They ate for a while, with Draco watching her with the ridiculously satisfied expression he wore whenever he provided her with sustenance.

Her Omega kept her from complaining.

“Did you make any progress today,” she asked after finishing another bite. 

“Closer than yesterday.” 

She didn’t miss the implication that he’d omitted the word ‘barely’ at the end of his answer. 

“I’ll brew with you tomorrow. Double our odds.”

“Longbottom and Theo arrive in the morning. They’ve been subtly assessing interest for a scent blocking potion. It seems the answer is a resounding yes.”

With how several of her friends could tell with embarrassing accuracy when she and Draco had sex, she could imagine why.

“Right,” she said, frowning. “I forgot about that too.”

After eating, she set her container aside and curled her legs up on the sofa. “Maybe they were right to send me away. I’m barely keeping track of important things as it is.”

Draco scoffed. “You could forget half your responsibilities and still do more than the minister—or the hag—on any given day.”

Instead of arguing, she crawled into his lap, where he held her and soothed her for an indiscernible amount of time.

“I hate they didn’t give you a choice,” he finally whispered into her hair. “But you don’t need a ministry career to do the things you want, Granger.” He turned her so that her back met his chest, the fingers of one hand deftly unbuttoning her blouse.

She arched into his touch.

“Look at all you’ve done on your own. All you’ve yet to accomplish. Even after you heal the forest.” She moaned when he ran his flattened palm from her stomach to the center of her chest. “I know there are at least a hundred more causes near and dear to this beautiful bleeding heart of yours.”

She reached to run her fingers through his hair. “My heart is willing. Unfortunately, my Gringotts vault is not.”

His other hand wove into her hair too, using the leverage to bring her mouth to his for a quick taste. “Mm. Lucky for you, my own vault has a mountain with your name to it. Possibly even several.”

“I…” Her breath stuttered when the hand on her chest shifted sideways. “…can’t take your money, Draco.”

“But think of the fun we could have.” She’d never seen him quite so enthusiastic, his eyes bright silver and boring into her own. “The Malfoy fortune funding house elf reform. Or creature rights. Fighting against werewolf discrimination. Providing private tutoring for muggleborn first years. We would not only be responsible for the pollution of my ancestral estate but of the ideals of every pureblood family in wizarding society.”

She gripped his hair tighter. “Spiteful philanthropy. The concept is mildly intriguing.”

“Come on, Granger,” he said, his voice low and seductive. “Let’s show them what you were truly made for. Burn what little they left behind of their prejudice and their control.”

“And then what?” She breathed.

His lips touched hers as he spoke. “Then I get to watch you create a world infinitely more magical.”

Chapter Text

The Malfoy Manor library was a battleground. 

Well, it at least felt like one.

With tensions rising every passing day and three Alphas all vying for the authority to decide the correct course of action, Hermione was surprised no spells had been fired. 

Or punches thrown. 

Blaise had grown increasingly hostile towards Neville and herself for working on the scent blocking potion—which he deemed a waste of precious time and energy. But after Theo had filled her in on the verbal harassment several Omegas he’d spoken to were dealing with constantly, she’d taken the two professors’ side.

Neville had also become more aggressive, his defensiveness of his mate more difficult to control as Theo’s heat cycle neared. 

And Draco, who was overworked and under-rested, was being a complete arse to them both. 

After finally settling on an effective mix of ingredients, and deciding—upon Draco’s advice—that a topically applied aerosol would be best, they’d tested their product on Theo, found with great relief that it had worked perfectly, and with a brief celebratory break for refreshments, the three of them had jumped right back in to researching alongside Blaise for the more difficult potion.

Hermione had assumed the unease amongst them would dissipate, as they all shared a common goal.

But she’d been wrong.

While debating on whether or not she should interrupt the argument Blaise and Neville were having over an ambiguous bit of text, a stag patronus leapt into the room.

“We’re at the hospital,” Harry’s strained voice said, the glowing animal dissolving after the last word.

Hermione nearly toppled her chair over as she stood up.

“Go, Granger,” Draco said calmly, before she even had a chance to argue the necessity of her intention. His eyes cut to Blaise, a quick but powerful show of challenge. “You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone.” 

She gave him a small smile of appreciation, then turned to Blaise. “I’ll try to be quick.”

Surprisingly, Blaise accepted with a subtle nod.

It eased her anxiety about leaving them all enough that she could focus on getting to Ginny.

Once she arrived at the waiting room, she groaned internally to see that Ron was the only one there.

“Hi,” he said, making the intelligent effort to sound contrite.

Not wanting to cause a scene in the crowded space, she fell into the seat opposite him. “How is she?”

“Another infusion,” he said. “But she’s stable now. Mum just went back so it will be a while until they allow another visitor exchange.”

With Ron’s obvious discomfort, and rare silence, the wait took an absolute eternity.

When Harry did finally appear, with a crying Molly in tow, Hermione pulled him into a close hug while Molly continued on through the corridor without acknowledging her.

“They gave Gin a dreamless sleep so I’m taking Molly for tea.” Harry lowered his voice to a whisper. “And to let her get all her shite opinions out far from your hearing.” He looked over her shoulder to Ron. “I fucking swear…”

“I know, I know,” Ron practically yelped. “I haven’t said a thing. Have I?”

Hermione pulled away with a grateful smile, waving off Harry’s concern. “It’s true. Greatest shock I’ve had all year.”

“That,” Ron said, “is the most absurd lie I’ve ever heard you tell. For Merlin’s sake, you’re—”

Harry performed a lightning fast jab of his wand to Ron’s ribs.

Hermione was thankful it went unnoticed by the Weasley matriarch, who was now luckily too far away to hear Ron’s actual yelp of pain.

“An Omega…” He rubbed at his side. “Is all I was going to say.” 

“Good,” Harry said. “I’d better catch up before your mum starts sending Alphas this way.”

That very possible reality sent Hermione hurrying to the private room, Ron following close after her.

It was a scene she’d seen not long ago, but she still wasn’t prepared for it. 

Ginny’s sedation made her appear worse, one arm hanging limply off the bed, her mouth slightly parted, and her skin ghostly translucent.

Ron obviously hadn’t seen her look so terrible yet either, because he turned almost the same shade of sickly white, sinking into a chair along the far wall with his head lowered.

Hermione adjusted her own seat at Ginny’s side, picking up her friend’s hand there and holding it in both of her own. She didn’t know if she had the ability, but she tried to envision allowing her magic to flow through the physical connection of their palms, giving strength and hopefully more power to accompany the infusion.

The concentration took effort, and she wasn’t sure how long she’d been quiet when Ron finally interrupted, jolting her from her trancelike state.

“I hoped you would agree to coming back here with me,” he said. “So I could apologize for how I’ve acted.”

Hermione waited for him to do so, but he just stared at her expectantly. 

She sighed when she realized he’d assumed what he already said would be enough. It most certainly wasn’t. Still, she’d never been able to stay angry with either Ron or Harry for long. Not after everything they’d been through. “I forgive you, alright. Just…please try to understand I’m doing the best I can.”

“I know. You always do.”

Ron sat awkwardly for a few minutes so she decided to resume her attempt to transfer her magic.

It could have been her imagination, but she thought some color had returned to Ginny’s cheeks.

“It’s just that—” Ron broke her concentration again before he stopped to let out a groan, one she knew was caused by aggravation. “Everything else aside, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Hermione blinked at him, unsure how to reconcile his underwhelming apology with his insistence on following it up with even more shite behavior. “A bit late for that.” She gave him a stern look. “We should finish this conversation once we leave.” She turned back to Ginny. “Or never.”

As if to punish her for being difficult, a healer stepped in moments later to let them know their visiting time was over, and the two of them returned to the crowded waiting room.

“I’m going to look for Harry,” she said, ready to flee to the section they’d been sitting in before.

But Ron only shook his head, giving her a pitying look that kept her rooted in place by her nerves. “I just feel like you’re not thinking all of this through. This won’t end well, Hermione. I don’t know what—the details are, but it’s never going to last with—” He cut off again, clearly struggling to choose his words carefully. “Any purebloods.”

She rolled her eyes, gripping the hem of her jumper tighter as he carried on, though honestly she was slightly impressed by his level of restraint at keeping her secret. “Some purebloods no longer care about my status as a muggleborn. Do you think I’d have so little self-respect?”

“That’s not what I mean.”

She only stared at him, genuinely unsure of what he was attempting to say.

Ron only grew more agitated when it was clear he’d have to spell it out for her. “What do you think—someone—would do if you…aren’t able to meet their expectations.”

Her mind flooded with a torrent of praises and compliments from Draco’s mouth, and her annoyance with Ron transformed into a hopeful weightlessness. “I’m not feeling an abundance of concern.”

Ron tugged at his hair, appearing more disturbed by her answer than he had been at finding her in Draco’s lap. “A pureblood…” He sneered in a way that let her know he really wanted to say Malfoy.

She’d opened her mouth to tell him to lower his voice. 

But he carried on before she could, losing control and getting even louder. “Will leave you the second he finds out you can’t provide an heir.”

Several things happened at once. 

Her lungs refused to maintain their proper function.

Ron gaped as if he weren’t the one in control of his own traitorous vocal chords.

And the unmistakable shutter of a magical camera sounded from not far away.

Ron recovered first, spitting out a curse and then sending a stunner towards where she assumed the photographer stood. 

But he must have missed because he was soon breaking away to sprint in the same direction. 

After years of dealing with the press, and learning first hand how infuriatingly adept they were at their jobs, she didn’t have much hope he’d be successful in stopping the information from going to print.

It wouldn’t take long before everyone knew about what Bellatrix had done to her.

Already on constant guard because of how her lack of a mate led to manipulation and control tactics from those around her, she dreaded the added pressure the new fact would cause.

She wanted to cry. 

Or scream. 

But what she did was numbly find her way to the apparition point to get back to the sanctuary of her flat. 

Guilt ate at her for leaving Ginny and Harry, but she couldn’t stay in the open. Once the gossip started, she’d lose all hope of public peace.

It could have been worse.

She had already been barred from having to go to the ministry every day. 

And at least for the next few months, she’d be far too busy to go out.

What more could they possibly do?

Unfortunately, she received an answer to what she’d thought was a rhetorical question an hour later when an owl tapped at the kitchen window, frightening her from the mindless tracing of the wood grains in her table and causing her to spill cold tea from the cup she’d made to try to calm her increasingly distraught thoughts.

She opened the latch and had to dart to the side as several large birds swooped in one after another, all dropping scrolls of parchment before making their escape once more. 

She picked up the largest one, a single-page special edition of the Prophet, and she read with shaking hands what she already knew would be there. 

Of course they’d overheard everything Ron had said.

What she didn’t expect, however, was for them to print her private address for letters of ‘support.’

She spun to look at the sky, seeing several flying creatures in the distance. 

Hermione didn’t take time to consider her impulse to seek shelter the only place she trusted. She shut and locked her window and ran to the fireplace.

Once inside the manor, she ran all the way to the library.

Awareness of how she must look didn’t give her pause until she came to an abrupt halt just inside the ornately carved double doors, her eyes finding Draco’s but still seeing enough to know they weren’t alone. 

Hiding the rapid pace of her breathing, she fixed her expression into something much more neutral for the sake of their guests. 

“How’s Ginny?” Neville asked, seeming unbothered by her harried entrance.

“Stable,” she called out, her own voice sounding strange in her head.

Draco still watched her with an unreadable expression while the others offered their support over the positive update.

She moved tentatively towards him, not wanting to be a distraction but requiring the calm only his closeness could bring but made it only halfway to him when his brow drew together, and he seemed to make a decision.

Never breaking her gaze, Draco swiped his wand to vanish his current potion. “We’re done for the day.”

Blaise practically snarled at the unexpected declaration. “We don’t have time to—”

Draco’s dangerous shift in countenance caused an uncomfortable chill to settle across the cavernous space. 

And everyone—even Blaise—gave an inexplicable and sudden impression of deference.

“Take your books,” Draco said, calmer once it became clear he’d prevailed. “We’ll begin again tomorrow. You can see yourselves out.”

As Blaise, Neville, and Theo moved to leave the library, Hermione hurried farther into it, practically throwing herself into Draco’s chest. 

He pulled her protectively into his arms as she wrapped her own around his middle. 

“Please tell me what happened before I lose what remains of my sanity.”

Her throat felt too constricted to form more than a single syllable. “Ron.” 

She didn’t consider what he would assume until that moment. How he must have thought Ron had revealed their relationship to the public. 

And she couldn’t even fix her mistake.

Because where she’d expected to find rage and frustration, she was met with a blinding spark of fear that was soon engulfed by cold calculation. 

“I’ll take care of it.”

His attempt to pull away brought her from her resistance to speak. “Draco, wait. It’s not…he didn’t tell anyone about us.”

If possible, his expression turned even colder. “What did he do?”

“Reporters overheard him saying…personal things about me.” She attempted to shrink herself smaller. “About my scar…what it means.”

Oh.

There the rage was.

She could feel it licking hot inside her bones, matching her own twisted indignation.

His voice was a barely contained growl. “What reason could he have to even mention that?”

“He assumed you didn’t know. He was trying to warn me that you wouldn’t want me once you did, and I wasn’t understanding his attempt to be delicate, so he sort of just blurted it out.”

She was fairly certain if Ron were in the room with them, she’d be unable to stop Draco from strangling him with his bare hands.

But then he focused on her again and softened completely. “Come on. You can tell me about it if it will help.”

She went willingly when he guided her out to the balcony, the sight of the dragon statues in the distance giving her a much needed source of distraction. It was warm despite being open to the elements, thanks to an ancient temperature charm, and Draco transformed one of the stone benches into the most luxurious and comfortable looking chaise lounge she’d ever seen. 

Through a watery laugh, she shook her head. “That’s the first thing that came to mind?”

He helped her lie down onto it and then did the same, caging her against the backrest and holding her to his chest once he’d settled in, revealing it was the most comfortable chaise in existence. At least she imagined it to be so. 

“Rich and spoiled, remember. The inspiration is in one of the additional bedrooms.”

“Of course it is.”

“Granger.”

She sighed, nuzzling closer. “It isn’t that I don’t want people to know. It’s the questions and the inevitable need to defend my choices that I despise dealing with. It was bad enough that Ron, Harry, and Molly knew. Now the whole community is going to be offering advice and suggesting solutions I don’t even care enough about to consider.”

“I went through painstaking lengths to keep mine from becoming public knowledge during my trial for similar reasons.”

“You made a good decision,” she told him. “Molly accused me once of being selfish. At the time, I thought it was a reaction to the permanence of the situation, but it didn’t take long to realize she truly believed it. I’ve no doubt it’s what others will say. As if my choice affects them in the slightest.”

Draco sneered. “It’s my constant wish that you were more selfish. You’ve done more for wizarding society than any other person in existence. What else could they possibly want from you?”

“Conformity, I suppose.”

He hummed roughly. “You’d think by now they would have learned never to expect that from you.”

The way he’d said it eased more of her anxiety. “Hardly. My flat is being attacked by owls as we speak. I set wards, of course, but knowing they printed my address feels…violating.”

He tensed at this new information, his voice bordering on a demand. “Don’t go back. At least until the threat lessens.” She could feel his effort to restrain himself. “Please stay here until we can make sure it’s safe for you anywhere else.”

“Alright,” she whispered.

She spent most of her time at the manor anyway, and his relief made her even more confident in the decision.

They stayed there, curled into one another, for what could have been minutes or hours.

All she knew is that it felt overwhelmingly good.

Until a familiar anxiety began to build, an ever-present fear of how much their new reality controlled them, to the point she hadn’t resisted at all to agree to hide away in the manor.

Errant thoughts of failing, her inability to fit in, her less than healthy coping mechanisms, and the jagged mental shards inside her mind gathered like a storm around her.

Draco hushed her gently, and the roaring in her ears seemed to recede. “I’m here. I’ve got you. Everything is going to be alright.”

“They’ll hate me more. They’ll blame me for not wanting to seek other options.”

”Whatever they choose to believe about you, it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

She nodded against his throat, relaxing further. His own character was proof that his words were true.

“Will you tell me about yours?”

His muscles tensed, a brief but frightening reflex, but then he relaxed into her, too. “If you want to know.”

“Only if it doesn’t hurt,” she whispered. “I don’t want to cause you more pain.”

“It wasn’t long after your own,” he began quietly. “We attended dinner at my aunt’s estate. My parents, her, my uncle, the dark lord. Even the goddamn snake had a place setting. As was typical, they started spewing hatred about Potter.” He inhaled shakily, pausing, and she worried she’d asked too much. But before she could stop him, he continued. “Eventually their attention turned to you. I don’t really remember how it began. One moment I was blocking them from my mind, and the next I…couldn’t take any more. Told them we’d have a much more pleasant meal if they would embrace silence for once. I think…they weren’t fooled about my true intentions. The bitch was livid. Screamed that if I cared about someone like you, I was a threat to the bloodline.”

Quiet settled around them. She didn’t know what words even meant any longer.

“My father would have avada’d her if Voldemort hadn’t restrained him. My mother cried but did nothing to interfere.”

With her voice still faltering, she held to him tighter.

“I didn’t even like you then. Well, I suppose I liked looking at you. But you were stubborn. And self-righteous. And annoyingly virtuous. Born on the right side of the war. You bested me in every way. But the more I listened to them recount your flaws, the more I realized they weren’t naming any of those things. Their belief in your inferiority was completely falsified. I couldn’t bear it. Then to make things worse, I couldn’t get Pansy’s words to stop ringing inside my head, how she begged me to save you. How I refused. I…lost my will for self-preservation for a split-second. But it was enough.”

She didn’t want to know the answer to her next question, but after his confession, she needed to. “I’ve always wondered,” she whispered, “if the cruciatas was a necessary start for the spell.”

“Maybe,” he said just as quietly. “Maybe she just enjoyed using it, too.”

“Draco...”

“It’s fine. At least I learned something from the experience. Helped me survive longer in the end.”

The sudden flippancy in his tone made her chest constrict painfully. She had to force out her words. “What could you have possibly learned from that?”

“It’s cumulative with each additional caster. I never disobeyed with more than one death eater near again.”

She pretended not to feel the heavy pause in her pulse. “And what number of individuals did this experiment include apart from you?”

“Three.”

Swallowing had become an increasingly difficult function. But now she couldn’t manage it at all. 

The pain from one cast of the spell had been unbearable, leaving her with the lasting agony of living with a mind she couldn’t always trust. 

Enduring it threefold? She wasn’t certain she would have survived at all.

How could they ever expect to…

It all felt so devastatingly futile.

So she asked another question she didn’t want to hear the answer to. “Aren’t you ever afraid we’re…” She could barely produce sound. “…too broken?”

“No.”

His insistence was startling.

“But…the things they took…”

“Granger, look at me.”

She did right away, and they small flash of surprise on his face let her know he hadn’t expected her to be so compliant. 

It made his following words even softer. “Maybe…in another life…we would have wanted more…” His thumb grazed over the edges of her scar, his touch invoking an almost reverence when paired with the solemnity of his voice. “…would have wanted…all of it. But in this one? You…as you are. As we are. I’m sure. It’s already everything I want.”

He must have noticed her rapid breaths because he tucked her head back under his chin and soothed her the way only he could.

Maybe it was because of what they were, but maybe it didn’t matter.

Trying. 

She was trying. 

But everything just felt like so much.

Her mind wouldn’t cooperate.

Bracing herself for his disappointment, she swallowed thickly. “But I’m…”

“Broken—? Scarred…burned?” He sighed into her hair. “Yes, I know.”

Understanding only made it harder for her to breathe, but he pulled her even closer, tightening his already possessive hold, as if guarding her with his body, his weight somehow making her intakes of precious air easier and more controlled as his magic crept through her veins, spreading from the hot glowing embers created by his touch.

“I know, Hermione. Because they altered me, too. Those parts of you that you’re afraid of, that you think no one will accept, align with my own brokenness. And it only makes me want you more. Whatever it is they made us into, you and I emerged the same.”

Warm solace was the only sensation in existence.

Her mind liked the idea…

…not being alone.

Somehow it made all the rest not seem quite so burdensome.

Or so final.

When she found her voice again, it was raspy but strong, and she lifted her head to look at him. “Could we sleep out here tonight?”

Silver eyes searched hers, and he seemed to be content with what he found there. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Draco.” Lying down again, she made herself comfortable in the cozy space he’d created. “I’m sure.”

Chapter Text

“W-we can start again,” Hermione said gently, infusing the suggestion with as much optimism as she dared given the volatile atmosphere within the library.

Theo and Neville had returned to the school, with plans to begin production on their scent inhibiting potion once they were able to take more time off for Theo’s heat, leaving her to play mediator between Draco and Blaise.

There’d been a flash of euphoria among them when Draco declared he’d found the perfect solution to adding the ingredients to his cauldron, but as they’d gathered near to witness the first stages of brewing, the three of them had been doused in the demoralizing reality Draco had made some sort of error.

“It’s not uncommon, when dealing with unreasonably large quantities, to have to backtrack because of a minor miscalculation.” She reached for Draco’s forearm, but paused when even her near-touch made him flinch.

He and Blaise shared some kind of silent understanding.

Draco shoved away from his workstation, stalking to a stone column and sinking to the floor against it. 

Expecting a similar reaction from Blaise, she tensed, hugging her arms tightly to her stomach, but she found him suffocating in despair instead.

She would have preferred his anger.

“I’m…” Blaise had to clear his throat twice.  “I want to spend some time with her. If…tell me if you find anything to…” 

Hermione assured him she would, and much to her surprise he offered a genuine but sad vocalization of gratitude. So she added, “Would it be alright for me to stop by to see her tomorrow?”

“She’d like that,” Blaise said, his voice rough. “I would appreciate it, too.”

She stood shocked, watching as he left.

It made her want to throw herself back into the formulas and calculations, to find their flaw and make everything right for them.

But she needed Draco.

Every success they’d made so far had been one of their combined creation. 

She went to him slowly, sinking to her knees at his side.

“Let’s try again,” she whispered.

“Even if we did eventually find my mistake, it takes two weeks to brew.”

The defeat in his lifeless voice made her chest ache. “We have time.”

“Not her.”

The ache became a splintering crush to her ribs. “What are you saying?”

Something he heard in her voice must have pulled him from his own devastation because he raised his head and then took her hand. “She’ll be…fine…until the equinox. But her magic, she only has until Yule. If we can’t have it done by then…”

He left the rest unsaid, but the implication was deafening.

Pansy would lose her magic. 

Permanently.

“Did she…” Her voice broke. “…have more visions?”

“No,” he said, the life drained from his tone once more. “These were old. She just told Blaise about them days ago. She’s not had another since she said we should keep our relationship a secret.”

Hermione swallowed harshly. “She told me it would be the last of her magic to fail.”

They sat in silence. 

There was nothing she could say. Nothing to make things better when they had so little fucking time to set things right.

“It isn’t supposed to be like this.”

“No,” she agreed, a crushing grip on his hand. “I’m sorry that it is.”

“Fucking bastards.”

She wholeheartedly agreed. “Theo and I made a promise that if either of us ever finds a time turner, we’ll use it to go back and keep them from ruining everything. You’re welcome to join our pact if you’d like.”

A small noise of amusement escaped him before he fell back into seriousness. “No. I’m too selfish to fuck around with the timeline.”

He lifted their hands and pressed his lips to the backs of her fingers.

“Draco, that’s…”

Really fucked up.

Selfish. Wrong. Slightly insane.

As if he could hear her thoughts, he sneered. “Like I care.”

“I’m one person,” she chided. Compared to so many I’m—”

“Don’t you dare say whatever it is you’re thinking.”

“But—”

“You believe I’m only angry about Pansy, don’t you.” He shook his head slowly, regarding her with resignation. “Of course you do. And trust me I am. But it pales in comparison to how I feel about what it means for you.” 

“Me…?”

His exasperation bled into rage. “She told us you’d be harmed, Granger. And I’ve failed to even fix her magic so she can tell us when it will be safe again. So we either risk your life, which I swear, I’d sooner endure a hundred crucios at once. Or the alternative, which is hardly any better, is that you’re fucking trapped here if you want to be with me.”

“Draco…”

“You don’t belong in a cage, Granger. Not even pretty one.”

She watched his chest heave, and the overwhelming need to comfort him clawed at her, her thumb tracing with deep pressure against his hand.

“It’s not—”

“I despise what they do to you, but it’s my fault you can’t even go in public with your—” He broke off on what could be considered a growl, but then he tipped his head back against the column, eyes closing, the prominence in the center of his throat moving on a heavy swallow. “Had I known, I would have tried harder. Would have cared more what they thought of me. At least enough to avoid this.”

She could hear all of what he was feeling in his low speech.

The regret, the frustration. 

The doubt.

In the past, his reluctance to trust in her commitment to him would have served as a source of validation in her own resistance to give it.

But her only current concern was to prove his worry was misplaced. 

She drew his attention with a light squeeze to his hand. “Could we go for a walk?”

He studied her, his eyes shifting skeptically. “Now?”

She got to her feet and pulled, beyond thankful when he stood for her without protesting. “Please.”

“Alright.”

They walked side by side through the manor and were soon stepping out into the chilled December air, the balmy glow of Draco’s warming charm wrapping around them seconds after. 

“Anywhere you’d like to go?” He asked, gesturing past the overgrown gardens. “There’s a lake just beyond the wood there.”

She nodded approvingly. “After the statues.”

Hermione took her time studying each one, and Draco didn’t complain or try to rush her, following dutifully with her hand still clasped in his own.

But when she finally reached the one she sought, instead of circling it, of running her fingers along rough scales as she had the others, she stood far off, moving into Draco’s front and bringing their hands to her midsection, reaching behind her to fix his other arm around her as well.

She stared at the impressive form of a Hebridean Black. “Aggressive dragons,” she mused, one hand now running featherlight touches along his forearm.

He made a short, noncommittal hum.

“They require quite a large territory,” she went on, “and are unyielding in their effort to defend it. It’s reasonable for those who know little of their nature to be cautious, maybe even afraid of them.” She leaned more of her weight against his chest. “I never have been though.”

The steady rise and fall against her spine turned shallow.

“They won’t feign their allegiance,” she murmured, “regardless of what some assume. They’re proud. Distrusting. Stubborn. Perhaps a bit overindulgent at times. But they’re also observant, persevering, just. And once they do accept someone? Their loyalty never fades. They’ll protect them with single minded ruthlessness. I’ve always considered them a creature I relate to, whose temperament very much compliments my own.”

Comforting weight settled at her crown when he dropped his chin to her hair, his breaths long and stable. “You know, for a moment, I forgot who I was dealing with.”

They stood silently, as if awaiting judgment from the ancient monument.

A part of her wondered what the answer would be.

But she wouldn’t find clarification in the stone, so she returned to her studying instead. 

The statue had been carved to include an impressive burst of flames, and Hermione spent several moments trying to decipher whether or not they were only structurally sound because of magic.

But then she stilled.

Because they sparked an idea. 

Or more an understanding. 

She turned sharply towards Draco, breaking his easy hold. “Your heat source, you've been using dragon’s fire powder?”

"Yes,” he answered, and if her abrupt change of discourse surprised him, he didn’t show it. “It’s the only one capable of producing a sufficient amount of heat.” His brow drew together, the only sign of his thought process no doubt swirling into rapid action. 

“But it’s unlikely that it was given freely?”

She saw the moment understanding seized him, too, his calm taken over by rigid vigilance once more. “Of course even the fire needs to be a fucking gift.” He ran his hand through his hair on a humorless note of laughter. “Have I not yet done enough impossible things?”

“You have,” she soothed him. “This is a good thing, Draco. We know what went wrong, and now we have a chance to fix it.” Slowly, she rested her hand over his heart. “I’ll help you.”

“Only you would categorize this as a minor inconvenience.”

“You said you wouldn’t doubt me again.”

He may have relaxed, but he was far from pleased. “Sometimes I appreciate your knowledge base. For the record, this isn’t one of those instances.”

Relief at her ability to comfort him, to keep him from descending into cold numbness, made her feel light and carefree. “You can’t place all the blame on me. Your hoard of books is involved as equally. There are at least six volumes I’ve noted in the library that will be useful.”

He smirked. “Developed quite the interest in dragons, haven’t you?”

“Their complexities intrigue me,” she said, her lips spreading into a soft smile. “I suppose they always have.”

He returned her affectionate expression until his faded into one of concentration once more. “We should go back and get started.”

“Just a while longer?” She looked up at him, hopefully. “You promised me a lake.”

She heard his next exhale, but he did lead them in the direction he’d motioned towards before, following a well worn footpath until they reached the copse of trees.

They emerged on the other side at a winding lake, so large she was unable to see where it ended in the distance. The opposite bank, however, was slightly closer, rising to a hill with more trees, and among them a modest stone temple.

She squinted, curious to know what design graced the entablature.

“More dragons.” Draco solved the mystery for her. 

“Should have guessed.”

“We could go there if you prefer. This is…well, it’s where I usually find myself when I’m alone.”

“Here is good then,” she whispered.

He transfigured a thick blanket to cover the fallen needles beneath an old Scot’s pine, and then sat with his back against the tree trunk. He pulled her down into the space between his raised knees so she could recline against him, until she was perfectly surrounded in his hold.

Hoping to rid themselves of their stress entirely, she brushed her hair aside and exposed her neck, sighing contentedly when he brought a hand to the section of skin there that would soothe them both far more thoroughly than ordinary means. 

The water was still, quiet, and the serenity of their view made it easy to understand why he favored the location. Had she not been made acutely aware of the horrors he’d faced early on, it would have been easy to mistake his life as idyllic. 

Knowing the truth left a bitterness she couldn’t escape. “It wasn’t all bad, was it, growing up here?”

“Most of it was the exact opposite.” He cleared the acrid air with a wistful noise. “Especially…before it all went wrong. But afterwards, too. My father was away often, and Mother and I were left to ourselves unless they called on us. Not even the dark lord could force his way in. Nor my aunt.”

“That makes me feel better.”

“It was the one place I didn’t have to hide from them. I know it’s grand,” he said, “but to me, this estate is…home.”

They watched a crane dive low over the water before it disappeared behind the screen of woodland once more.

Her palm rubbed a soothing pattern on his raised thigh. “As it should be.”

She hadn’t realized how much she’d hoped for it to be so. The alternative would have been dreadfully cruel. 

“What happened to your house,” he asked. “The one you grew up in?”

“I had to sell it when I relocated my parents. Muggle logistics companies and new homes are expensive.”

A sharp edge crept into his tone. “One would think venerated war heroes would be generously compensated for their service to society.”

She huffed. “If they’d compensated us, they wouldn’t have been able to use us as efficiently.”

“I’m grateful your side won, but I’ll never forgive what they did to you.”

“My side failed you—and Pansy and Blaise and Theo—just as much. I like to think they’d hate how we all ended up together.”

“Which reminds me, you’re more than welcome to invite the Potters, or anyone, as often as you like.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yes, Granger.”

After taking a few moments to appreciate the generosity of his willingness to open his home to her friends, she shifted to be able to see him. “Thank you. I know you find it difficult to have people in your private space.”

”It’s the least I can offer after…” he sighed.

In an effort to keep him from spiraling again, she gave him a playful smile. “And I thought you only wanted me here so you could have me all to yourself.”

With a grip to her jaw, he tipped her head back against his chest. “I want you safe,” he growled, his thumb tracing the length of her exposed throat.

Of course she’d known his reasoning for wanting her to stay there, but her Omega melted at the protective display.

Warmth pooled between her thighs, soaking through the layers of fabric there, and she reached up behind her, seeking to trail her fingers over the source of his pheromones, her senses suddenly clouding because of how strongly they hung in the air.

He pinned her hand with his own before she could meet her mark. “We should go back.”

Even as he voiced his intention to resume working, his body’s insistence to postpone a while longer became apparent, too.

Feeling him pressed against her, hard and aching for release, she was dying to be the one to give it to him. She twisted restlessly, unable to offer more than the barest amount of friction to his cock as he held firm.

“Ignore it.”

She whimpered in distress. “Draco…”

“We shouldn’t. I shouldn’t. Fuck, we should be focused on—”

She had managed to adjust herself enough to be able to see him. “Alpha…you deserve a break after how tirelessly you’ve worked. You deserve to feel good...”

He cursed again, but his features remained stern. “Granger…”

She continued peering up at him with what must have been quite a pitiful look considering the magnitude of her desperation, her Omega clawing her pride to shreds. “Please…”

His hard expression fractured. “Fuck, don’t look at me like that. I can’t deny you when you do. But it doesn’t change the reality that you’re stuck here and it’s my—”

“Stop,” she pleaded, her nails digging into his skin. “Stop saying those things like this isn’t where I want to be, where I chose to be, Draco. I’m not trapped. Behind your wards, protected by your magic. This isn’t a cage. It’s a sanctuary. When I’m here, I feel like I can do anything I want.”

Maybe he could have resisted on his own.

But with his Alpha’s intervention, he stopped trying. She vividly imagined the creature biting clean through the restraints holding him back.

His voice resonated through every part of her. “And what is it you want, Omega?”

“You,” she insisted breathlessly. “I need y—”

He had her jumper over her head and tossed to the side before she could even complete her plea, soon followed by his own shirt and then her bra, their bare skin burning everywhere it now met.

A rough lick against her scent gland inundated her with a dizzying dose of endorphins. 

“Turn towards me.”

She did as he said, straddling him, her body humming with impatience as he took the time to hold her hips still so he could observe her. His trousers were soaked through in seconds, and heat bloomed over her cheekbones because of it.

A hint of amusement shined through his overt lust. “I know you aren’t ashamed of your slick, Omega. My sole complaint is that it’s not dripping onto my tongue.”

Whatever she meant to reply got lost when his mouth met hers, the deep and possessive nature of his kiss expanding infinitely with his addictive, mind-altering taste.

He didn’t protest when she trailed from his lips to suck bruising marks into the pale skin of his neck.

The appreciative sounds he made were so coveted by her Omega. 

She wanted to hear them all.

“Please, Alpha,” she breathed, writhing against him as best as she could. “Let me…”

His hands left her waist in favor of weaving into her hair, giving her the ability to move freely. 

“Go ahead, Omega…” he growled against her neck, vanishing the rest of their ruined clothing. “…like you’re mine.”

It wasn’t exactly what she planned to ask for, but it was inconceivable to even attempt to resist. Never leaving his gaze, she reached between them for his cock, lining it with her cunt and sliding down the length of him in one slow sensuous motion.

She was rewarded by another rough vocalization of his pleasure. One that mirrored her own at the devastating intensity of him fitting so perfectly inside her she questioned how she could ever exist without.

Quickly finding a rhythm she knew he liked, her mind only retained space for thoughts of pleasing her Alpha, of taking care of his needs the way he always took care of hers.

Anything, her Omega thought.

“So perfect,” he praised, one hand dropping to her arse to guide her, forcing her down flush with his body so that all she could do was grind against him. “Need to watch you come.”

It was all too much. The depth and stretch of his cock, the friction against her clit, his control of her body, his determination to make her feel as good as she wanted him to. A cry left her throat when an orgasm materialized as if by his will, and she fell limply against his chest, powerless to do anything but blindly cling to him as his hold turned crushing, the current of ecstasy coursing through her failing to find a means of grounding because of it. 

A rush of his magic amplified the sensation even more, and she cried out again, a thin thread of alarm within the sound.

“Don’t fight it,” he whispered into her hair. “Let me take care of you. This is how it’s supposed to be.”

She had no choice but to listen.

Letting herself fall farther.

Until she lost all sense of reason.

He’d forged a new universe, one made of endless pleasure, untouched by the constraints of time. A space where her only requirement was to accept what he offered.

“…good. You’re so good for me, Omega.”

Refocusing on Draco’s words took effort.

Her body felt like light refracted through crystal. She didn’t know how to reassemble its pathways into one again. Wasn’t sure such a thing were possible. 

All she knew was the need to give to him in return.

She tried to resume her movements from before, but he held her still, his stony expression back in place, and she nearly sobbed at the possibility he intended to leave himself unsatisfied. “W-what are you doing?”

She was fully alert once more.

He studied her body as if memorizing it.“We need to go back. Want to give you my knot so fucking…” His voice suggested agony. “But I know I shouldn’t.”

“Then don’t,” she said, licking her lips, her anticipation brimming over when he tracked the action with darkening eyes.

“That’s your Omega talking.”

She rose from him shakily, thrilled when he allowed her to, then smirked down at him. “We both know it isn’t.”

He regained his feet and had her pinned against rough tree bark before she even had a chance to react, and then she was the one being looked down upon.

“Fuck, how you test me…”

“Please,” she begged. “I want to taste so badly…you’re always so careful, not wanting to hurt me. But I…am almost sure it won’t be too much for me to swallow it all.” It chafed she had to include the hint of uncertainty. “Alpha, please…”

His thumb grazed her temple as he held her face. “Such pretty brown eyes. If you’re going to ruin me with them, you might as well do it thoroughly.”

As soon as he allowed her space to do so, she lowered to her knees, her nails clawing into one muscled thigh while her other hand circled his slick covered cock. She stroked him with steady, single-minded focus, beaming with pride when his features clouded with equal parts lust and approval.

Too desperate to make him wait longer, she sucked him in deep, only taking a few slow pulls before she adjusted to a pace that had him gritting curses above her. 

Swallowing against his cock, she moaned, falling once more into a daze, where her only desire was to keep drawing praises and growls from her Alpha, to give and give until she could drink his pleasure in return.

It was transcendent, how he felt inside her mouth, his taste, the trust he had in her. How he’d claimed her as his own.

She stared up at him in awe. 

“Fuck. Fuck, Omega.” He held her in place as he pulled his cock free, taking over stroking himself. “Stick out your tongue for me.” 

Obeying at once, she opened her mouth wide and presented her flattened tongue.

Already intoxicated by knowing what was to happen, she wrapped both hands around his swelling knot and tightened her grip, giving him pressure where she knew it would feel so good. 

His harsh growl lit a cascade of fires along her nerve endings.

“Perfect, Omega. So fucking good. Letting me come on your tongue.” He brushed his thumb roughly along her jaw. “Lap up as much as you’d like.”

Oh…he meant for her to…

The noise that left her throat was more  whimper than moan as her vision flickered, and at the sound, his fist moved faster, then faltered, his every muscle tensing as his orgasm took control.

"Mine..." he growled, holding her where he wanted.

A stream of come hit her tongue, bathing her senses in a familiar, concentrated drug, the source of her never ending addiction.

Her tongue licked against the head of his cock as she brought it in for a disorienting swallow. The excess dripped down her chin until she darted her tongue back out for more.

And more and more.

Despite her effort, she was drenched in him. On the tops of her breasts, her stomach. Between her thighs.

A claiming.

It made her Omega even more desperate to do the same.

While keeping the firm pressure against his knot, she abandoned her licking in favor of pushing forward to take his cock into her mouth again, sucking deeply as she reveled in swallowing every drop of pleasure he had left.

He growled an incoherent litany of praises as she looked up at him, the overwhelming sense of awe coursing through her once more.

It was so strong, she lost herself in it entirely, only resurfacing when Draco gently pulled himself free of her mouth, falling heavily back beside her and gathering her to him like a prized possession.

He swiped the pad of his thumb to clean her chin, massaging what he'd gathered there into her scent gland, and her eyes fluttered closed, her Omega practically purring in blissful contentment.

It only grew when he worked his way down her body, infusing her skin with his come, marking her as his.

Draco’s voice was easy, devoid of any frustration, just the way she liked it. “Are you falling asleep?” 

“M’fine. Just need…few minutes.”

She felt the curve of his lips when he kissed her temple, and before she even knew what was happening, she was falling for a moment before she landed surrounded by softness, by luxurious sheets and pillows that were covered in his scent.

“Rest. I have some letters to…”

He must have thought she had already fallen asleep because he trailed off, his lips pressing to her shoulder before he rose from the bed, fixing the coverlet around her and making her feel so safe. Comforted.

She didn’t bother to correct him, knowing it wouldn’t take long for it to become truth.

Draco hadn’t been in his bed with her when she woke, but even without his immediate presence, she felt extraordinarily well-rested. And comfortable. So much so that she hesitated to get up.

She stayed burrowed into the bedding, mentally running through ways to solve their current problem until she finally couldn’t justify it any longer.

After a shower, she went off in search of him, finding him reading one of the books she’d mentioned in the library.

Her entire body flushed with heat when his gaze snapped to her the moment she entered.

His brow creased as he took in her attire and her freshly washed hair. “How long have you been awake?” 

“Not long,” she answered. “I’ve been thinking of the most practical options for us. I’m not making promises, of course, but it’s possible Charlie can get what we need. I can’t make myself speak to Ron, and Ginny is still in and out of consciousness, but Fred and George will help me contact the dragon reserve. I can go to the joke shop now.”

“Wait here.”

She did, curious as to what he was doing.

He came back into the library holding her beaded bag. “I thought you might want to take this with you.”

She studied it with grateful surprise, her fingers slipping over the mended beading and distinct lack of charring. "You fixed it for me."

"Shockingly, with the insanely complex extension charm you added. Almost had to ask for your assistance.” He smirked. "Exactly how much have you hoarded away in here, little dragon?"

“It doesn’t have that m—”

Air rushed into her lungs as a memory surfaced.

Oh.

How could she have not…

A dragon.

A perfect little dragon.

Her eyes went wide, mouth parting as she snatched the bag from him, reaching her entire arm inside to search.

"I didn't go through your things, if that's what you're upset—"

"What—no, of course not,” she said, breaking into a quiet bout of overwhelmed laughter. “I wouldn't mind if you had..." She finally found what she needed, presenting the glass jar with a burning stick preserved by stasis charm inside. 

Draco stared, a cautious hopefulness spreading in his eyes. “What is that?”

“It’s fire,” she breathed. “Fire gifted from a dragon. Scorch brought it to me from the little cave in the forest the first time we were there. My charm was broken, and I stopped using the bag as much. I forgot I never took it out.”

“So you’ve had what we needed even before we saw the unicorns.”

“Yes.” It made her have about a thousand more questions. “Do you think Scorch knew we needed it?”

“I don’t think there’s any way to know the answer to that.”

The fear of another failure made her pause. “I’m scared to try it. What if it’s—”

“It’s enough,” he said, carefully taking the jar from her and taking it to his workstation.

She followed, and they both held their breath as he used his wand to transfer glowing sparks. They watched flames ignite under the cauldron.

He concentrated on adding the ingredients in the proper measurements, stirring the exact direction and duration, until finally the thin slice of blood infused horn was all that remained.

“Put your hand over mine,” he said in a hushed tone.

Willing herself to remain steady, she did as he asked, wielding the wand with him, their magic knitting together as they levitated the final piece into the cauldron.

It flashed blindingly for a moment before melting smoothly, giving a faint glimmer to the potion once they mixed it in.

Draco withdrew the wand slowly, but she didn’t let go.

“Is it…?”

She yelped when he banded an arm around her thighs and lifted her against him, her arms wrapping around his neck on instinct, his triumphant smile making her melt into his hold.

“It’s perfect.”

“We have to go let them know,” she said, emotion welling up at the hope they could now provide.

“We’ll see them in the morning.” Draco conjured his patronus as if it took no effort at all, his instructions rushed. “Find Blaise. Tell him Granger did it. It’s brewing as it should.”

“We did it,” she corrected, watching the luminous dragon take flight through the balcony doors. “Together.”

Chapter Text

Under the protective shield created by both Hermione and Draco’s magic, the potion continued brewing. 

It was set to be finished the following day, and, although they were still a week away from Yule, the two of them had planned a holiday gathering for their friends, with hopes of testing the potion as soon as possible.

Theo and Neville, Pansy and Blaise, and Harry and Ginny were all arriving later in the evening, all intending to stay the night in the manor.

Harry had been so ecstatic over the prospect of having a cure, he hadn’t resisted the idea in the slightest. And once Ginny had gotten home from the hospital, she’d written in their notebook, sounding equally as excited over staying in Malfoy Manor as she had been over being able to personally observe Hermione and Draco’s relationship.

Draco had taken care of arranging the primary meal.

And Hermione had shopped for baking supplies.

With the excess kitchen space and the high of their recent victory, she may have gone a bit overboard. It hadn’t helped that she’d been so excited to have her bag in perfect working order again, ready to be filled with every ingredient she even thought she could use to take back to the manor.

But it was the Christmas season, and they all deserved to enjoy it to the fullest.

Especially after the taxing year they’d all had.

The past two weeks had been refreshingly hopeful. 

She had filled her days pouring over books and scientific studies she hoped could help her solve the problem she still faced in the forest, and Draco had done the same—when he hadn’t been going off alone to work on his own personal projects. 

She’d just left her desk in the library to stretch when he came back from wherever it was he’d been all morning, his scent refreshing and maybe even a bit stronger than usual. She burrowed into his chest to breathe in more.

His hand fell to the back of her neck. “Take a break and have something to eat with me.”

She winced. “I sort of took over the kitchens yesterday after I came back from the supermarket. I hope you were able to find everything alright.”

She tried to turn left into the corridor but he guided her along the opposite way instead.

“Didn’t require a single accio,” he said, amusement clear in his voice. “Though you should probably warn me of the extra guests you’ve invited.”

He knew very well that there weren’t any.

“Blame my adoration for the season,” she grinned up at him. “And thank god for magical food preservation.”

“Thank the manor for being large enough store it all.”

They continued on until they were standing outside of Draco’s study. One she hadn’t set foot in for weeks.

She peered up in question. "In here?"

"I have a reason," he murmured.

The doors opened slowly to his gentle graze of his wand as he placed his free hand on the small of her back.

The scent hit her first. 

Sharp pine and sweet woodsmoke.

Then the complete transformation he'd accomplished of the space drew her farther inside.

Garlands made of freshly cut Scots pine accentuated the mantle and the walls. 

Matching wreaths hung horizontally from the ceiling, holding tapered candles, bathing the room in a warm glow from the woodsy chandeliers.

And Draco had lit a roaring fire in the hearth.

He led her to the same chaise from the night they’d slept on the balcony, lounging onto it with one foot still on the floor and dragging her down into the space between his legs.

Only a low table separated them from the fireplace.

A small moan of pleasure escaped her at the unbelievably cozy space he’d made for them, the warmth of the flames, the scent she could never get enough of, the elements of forest surrounding her, the luxurious chaise, all wrapped up in the knowledge he’d wanted to make her as comfortable as physically possible, enhancing the effort by drawing her into his protective embrace.

It was perfect.

“Is this the original?” She rubbed her palm over the backrest of their seat.

“Yes.”

“I suppose the sofa already here didn’t meet your standards.”

“I’m quite partial to this one.” He levitated two steaming cups from the table.

She sighed contentedly at the first sip of sweet spiced wine. 

A tray of her favorite snacks floated within reaching distance.

“You’re going to spoil me,” she teased.

His own content noise vibrated in his chest. “As a queen should be.”

She didn’t have to look. She could hear his self-satisfied smile.

When they finished, he vanished the dishes and gathered her even closer into him.

She inhaled deeply again. “Mmm. It smells like Christmas. Like you.”

“I was hoping that meant you would appreciate it.”

“I do. It’s..."

"Comforting?” He asked, a hint of challenge in his voice. “That's what you said before."

"...like home,” she whispered, both compelled to answer truthfully and overwhelmingly unsure all at once, but, with a soothing brush of fingers against her neck combined with the brilliant spark of happiness within his magic, she forged ahead anyway. “I…had given up ever feeling this again."

One moment she was reclining against Draco’s chest, and the next she was standing and being spun towards him, her face caught in both of his hands as he stared down at her with an unreadable expression.

But before she could demand clarification, he growled a curse in sudden annoyance.

“What is it?”

“Pansy and Blaise are here.”

Relieved his frustration only came from the early arrival of welcome guests, she laughed. “Don’t be an arse. I’ll greet them with you.”

They apparated together to the gates and were soon leading Pansy and Blaise into the manor’s main entrance, which Hermione was surprised to find decorated in a similar way to the study, though slightly more elegant in scale.

Pansy exhaled audibly. “Thank Merlin you decorated, Granger. I thought we’d have to perform a miracle to get it done before everyone else arrives.”

Draco shot Hermione a pleading look that had her biting back a grin. “It was honestly no trouble at all.”

“Classic but with a provincial charm. You have excellent tastes.”

Pansy continued on towards the wing of the manor the guests were using, with Blaise following behind with their belongings.

“Yes, I do.” She suppressed a chuckle behind her fist, speaking only to Draco since the others had gotten too far away. “I’m really quite skilled.”

“She never would have shut up about it,” Draco said, his appreciation at her willingness to protect him clear. “Fuck, I have to go ward the study.”

She rose up on her toes to kiss the side of his neck. “I’m going to start baking.”

Pansy returned before Draco did, breezing into the kitchens and pausing on the opposite side of the large table in the middle. “Alright. What are we making?”

“I…” She glanced at her peeled pears, carefully lowering her wand to grab a knife instead, shooting Pansy an apologetic look.

The witch rolled her eyes. “I assume you can manage the muggle way?”

“Well, yes, but you don’t have to—”

“Losing my magic doesn’t mean I’m incapable of doing what I want. Make room, Granger.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary with the size of this kitchen.”

“It is if we’re working together. Which we absolutely are. Hand over the knife.”

Unable to hide her smile, she did.

Pansy seemed pleased. “After how you were in the forest, I came prepared for much more resistance.”

“You refused to touch anything there.”

She gave a flippant shrug, entirely unashamed.

After going over the recipes together, they worked for a while in comfortable quiet.

“I appreciate the company,” Hermione finally said after closing the oven and turning it on with a necessary spell. “I used to bake like this with my mum. It feels more like Christmas, having someone with me.”

“I like new traditions,” Pansy replied. “Speaking of which, this one is now my second favorite. After Draco’s decorating.”

“I—what do you mean?”

“No need to play dumb. I’m not an idiot, you know.” She raised her dark eyebrows with a sly grin. “But some of us don’t have the same privileges where Draco’s patience is concerned. I’m not saying I never provoke him, but…” She flitted her free hand. “Yule spirit and all. I decided to let him have this one.”

“He thinks you’d tease him.”

“Oh, I would,” Pansy laughed, then she sobered once more. “But seeing as how he’s maintaining his sanity by a thread, I don’t want to risk throwing any sharp words his way.”

Hermione sighed. “We’re trying to figure out how to do this.”

“He’s terrified because of my last vision.”

“I know,” she swiped her finger through a bit of flour dust. “Did you truly not see things about us before? Or did you only tell him that?”

“Why do you assume I’m the dishonest one?”

Hermione glared at her, waiting.

Pansy smirked. “I only ever saw that you’d one day be part of our little family. As would Potter. And his wife. And Neville.”

“Is that why you asked him to save me from Lestrange Manor?”

“Asked is a generous way of wording what I did. I was desperate for you live.”

Hermione looked up, unable to conceal her surprise. "Why did you care about me? It was Harry. Harry who needed to survive."

Pansy was quiet for long enough to allow anxiety to build. "Harry needed to survive to save everyone. But you were the only way to save Draco."

Forcing her voice to remain even took more effort than anything she’d ever done. "And how will I do that?"

"I don't know, Granger. Neither does he. So keep your mouth shut because I never actually told him that part.” She shrugged, going back to her stirring. “Doesn't matter anyway, does it? With how much you hate prophecy, you wouldn’t believe in it."

Would she?

The question clanged inside her head, distracting her to the point that she didn’t realize Theo had arrived until he was standing right across from her.

“All the Omegas in the kitchen,” he said. “Seems a touch antiquated.”

Pansy cut her eyes to him. “Granger and I are in the kitchen. We’re bonding.”

Theo seemed genuinely offended. “What makes you believe I wouldn’t want to help?”

“You won’t even cook with a wand. Neville is the only reason you aren’t living off tea and biscuits.”

He grinned. “You forgot the sugar quills and firewhiskey.”

Draco’s huff of exasperation drew their attention as he walked in. “Hardly enough. You’re lucky I made sure you had proper nutrition before then.”

“Yes, yes, thank you, Dad. Always attentive as long as I’m not wronging my darling sister here.” Theo moved around the table to put his chin on Hermione’s shoulder. “That must mean you’re our new mum.”

He received three creative demands that he shut it immediately.

Along with a sharp smack to the back of his head from Pansy. “Merlin, Theo, what’s wrong with you? After what they printed in the Prophet?

“Oh, fuck, Hermione, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“I don’t actually mind,” she said, waving off his concern.

“I got carried away with all the festivities, I guess. I always wanted a big family to celebrate with."

He'd said it jestingly, but Hermione knew there was a traumatic honestly to his words. She very much doubted he'd ever been allowed to celebrate at all until after the war. 

She tipped her head to the side to meet Theo’s where he still leaned against her. "Count me in," she told him. 

When her eyes found Draco’s again, he was regarding her with the same curious expression from before.

“And me,” Pansy said, wrapping her arm around Theo’s waist and bringing the three of them slightly closer, “so long as you remember I’m your older and wiser sister who plans to ingrain proper manners into that thick skull of yours if it takes all my effort to do it.”

Theo scoffed. “I was not put on this earth to be proper.”

“No, you weren’t.” Neville’s voice came from the entryway, and Theo immediately untangled himself from Pansy and Hermione to go to him. “I like you as you are, love.”

“This is why I chose you as my mate.”

“Great,” Pansy deadpanned. “Another one I have to teach—” she cut off on a high-pitched screech. “Like how you can’t grab your boyfriend’s arse while you’re helping with food preparations.”

“Oh, you’re right,” Theo said, feigning disgrace, “we’d better go wash up.”

Neville chuckled, leading Theo from the kitchen.

Blaise replaced the two as they stepped through the doorway. “For Merlin’s sake, don’t forget to cast a silencing charm this time.” 

“Finally,” Pansy sighed, “someone who doesn’t act like a wild animal, well not usually at least.”

Even without looking, she could feel Draco’s eyes on her as she worked. 

So when he walked close to Blaise and quietly asked for his help bringing in a tree,  it was by accident that she also caught the underlying implication that he required assistance for something more. 

She barely held back a grin as they left, wondering if he’d planned another surprise for her or maybe for another among them.

Pansy drew her attention by purposefully clearing her throat. “Are you honestly not going to call the arsehole out on that? He didn’t even try to come up with a believable excuse.”

“I don’t see why I should,” she said, confused about Pansy’s reaction. Maybe she was one of those who liked sneaking to find gifts before special occasions. 

Pansy stared for several awkward moments, before shaking her head. “Merlin, it’s no wonder he’s in love with you.”

Hermione coughed on air. “What—?”

Her choked question was interrupted by Ginny bursting into the kitchen, rushing straight for her and pulling her into a crushing hug.

“Harry just showed me the Prophet’s special edition before we got here. I hope you’ve made your peace with my brother.”

“It was an accident. He tried to stun them at least. And the chase might be funny if anyone caught it on magical film.”

“I’m so sorry, Hermione. I can’t stop replaying all the times I’ve told you about Harry’s and my plans, wondering if I hurt you…if I had known…”

“I’m far more upset about it being common knowledge than I am about that. I’ve told you a thousand times I never felt strongly about being a mum.”

“I was afraid you were only saying it because you didn’t have a choice.”

“It happened after I left the school.”

“Fair. I’m still considering exiling Ron to the Burrow for good to keep him away from you.”

“I promise there’s no need.” She laughed, feeling light and carefree to have actually meant the words. Being surrounded by all the people she cared about made her worry over the situation seem unnecessary. “Would you like to help us bake?”

“Let me put my things away so I can look around,” she said, gleefully transparent in her true motive. “Harry will probably want to join in, too.”

After quick greeting to an amused Pansy, Ginny left with a small bag, just as Harry walked in to replace her. He spoke to them both while they finished their current task before drawing Hermione away while Pansy started another.

Once essentially in private, he handed her an envelope addressed with her name. “I brought you this,” he said, grimacing.  “From Kingsley. It’s an invite to the ministry’s Yule gala.”

“Ha. No thanks.”

“I assumed you’d say that but wanted to give you the opportunity to choose. Tried to bring it to your flat a few times but it must have been while you were out.”

Her face might as well have had a heat mirage over it, and she couldn't help her uncomfortable shifting.

Surprise lit in his eyes. “Oh—are you…? Oh—you've been staying here?”

“Stop looking at me like that,” she hissed. “You saw where they printed my address. It’s a muggle flat, there’s only so much I can do as far as wards are concerned. Where else was I meant to go?”

"You've always been welcome at ours."

"I...didn't think about...”

She expected a lecture, but that isn’t what she received. 

Harry hugged her. 

Not the awkward side hug he’d given her for years, but a full best friend hug that she’d missed for so long. 

She almost sobbed on the spot.

“I’m happy for you,” he whispered. “Don’t fight against it for too long, alright. I know how you are, and I understand. I do. But there’s no required timeline for when you can have something you already decided you want.”

She bit her lip to keep it from quivering. “What if I make the wrong choice again?”

“For the longest time I didn’t understand why prophecy bothered you so much. Why you got angry instead of laughing it off like Ron or like I did. Then I realized it’s because you’ve always known prophecy is true. But where we always saw a useless riddle, and as much as you wanted to believe the same, you couldn’t. It’s always translated into a moral failing that you aren’t clever enough to circumvent whatever they predict. You’re the smartest person I know, Hermione. One of the most powerful witches in history. But even you aren’t clever enough to stop something that just…is.”

“I don’t want it to take this from me. I don't want to be with anyone else.”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. “That’s sort of my point.”

The timer going off for a pie called her away again. 

Somehow, they all ended up gathering in the kitchens, Hermione and Pansy on one side of the main table with Harry and Ginny on the other, while the others had taken up the dining table on the other side of the spacious room, reading over books and calculations for the thousandth time just to ensure they had everything prepared for testing the potion.

Once everything was done, the baked goods packed away with charms to keep them fresh, they all slowly paired off for bed, until she was left alone with only Draco.

He had been subdued the whole night, but the almost nervous energy surrounding him had her trembling.

Until he calmed them both with a steady offer of his hand. “Come with me.”

They didn’t speak as he led her through the manor, up several staircases to a level she’d never had reason to go to before. He drew his wand to cast a complicated series of spells on a plain door.

Once it opened, he took her inside, letting go of her hand so she could have freedom to take it all in.

It was like stepping into the Room of Hidden Things. If said room had been owned by royalty.

“I wanted to bring you earlier, but I admit it’s best I wasn’t able to. I had checked before, but Blaise made sure I didn’t overlook any potential curses. I’m sure now that everything here is safe for you.”

Stunned, she took a few tentative steps.

“Choose what you like,” he said, his voice rough. “Furniture, art…anything that will make you feel even more…comfortable here.”

“Draco,” she whispered, her voice shaking, Harry’s words echoing in her mind. “Are we going to talk about…what this means.”

“No,” he said, a soft but final declaration. “Not yet.”

“Alright.” She swallowed her nerves, or tried to, as she began a mental catalogue of what was before her. “Some of these artifacts would be invaluable teaching aides if donated to Hogwarts.”

She moved carefully throughout the centuries of Malfoy family heirlooms, pausing beside a rich tapestry, a magically woven forest landscape with a glowing equine figure rising over the hilltop.

“If that’s what you prefer.”

Startled by his sudden coldness, she looked back, finding Draco had gone rigid. 

Defensive. 

If she looked closely enough, she thought she might be able to see fractals of ice spreading over his pale skin.

He watched her as if he were waiting for her to vanish into smoke, to slip from his grasp, and never allow him near again.

Like he realized maybe he’d pushed her too far.

Too soon.

Like he was afraid she suddenly believed the worst of his intentions.

She held her head high and ran her fingers delicately over the silk fiber artwork. “This would look lovely in the dining hall. Don’t you think?” Her steady gaze met his fracturing one as she turned towards a table laden with silver and bronze. “Maybe more candles for the bath.”

“Yes—?” With his wild expression, she wasn’t sure if he were asking the question of her or of the universe.

“Mmm…” She nodded minutely, her lips curving into a small smile. “And cushions. I want all the cushions.”

He shoved off of the wall. 

By the time he reached her, his touch wasn’t ice.

It was all-consuming fire.

Chapter Text

“Did I not speak clearly enough the first time?” Pansy’s needle sharp words echoed across the otherwise silent library, the remainder of their group bearing witness in stunned disbelief. “I said I don’t want to take it.”

Wearing a dress far too short to conceal the wand holster she’d worn in the forest, the witch was perched on a table, her sleek black hair angled in points as she leaned challengingly towards the two men in front of her.

“Pansy…please.” Blaise’s voice broke on both words.

“This isn’t a discussion.” Draco shifted his insistent gaze from one Zabini to the other.

Pansy straightened in defiance. “What are you going to do, force the potion down my throat?”

“I’m considering it,” Draco seethed.

Blaise appeared to be suffering from the equivalence of a confundus charm.

The three of them continued in a volatile stand-off while the rest of them exchanged nervous glances and silent questions of how to proceed.

No one had an answer.

Up until Pansy’s entirely unexpected but fiercely adamant refusal to accept the potion that Hermione and Draco had spent months creating, their early Yule gathering had been everything Hermione had wanted it to be. 

Their morning had included taking turns lighting Yule candles and then using them to start the giant Yule log in the dining hall’s fireplace, charmed to remain burning until the winter solstice came to an end. All had agreed it fitting to use the same fire given by Scorch as their source of ignition, the small glowing embers of the ever-burning stick transforming first into bright individual flames fed by candlewicks until finally joining into a brilliant blaze dancing along the enormous trunk of the freshly felled tree, a humble offering from the smallest of its kind growing to provide warmth and hopeful expectations to them all. 

At Pansy’s—now clearly motivated—request, they’d waited until after their meal and time celebrating together to go through with the final testing of their potion. If anyone had noticed the handful of changes Hermione had made to the manor, no one commented, though she suspected fear over Draco’s response was more likely the cause for the three who’d frequented the estate long before she ever had. 

Theo had spent the morning with an oddly sentimental smile on his face, but much like everyone else, his good spirits were quickly fading. “I don’t know what you’re afraid of, Pans, but you have to at least try. Why did you ask us to do all of this if you won’t even save yourself…” He trailed off after a ragged inhale from Blaise drew his attention.

Ginny and Harry backed out of the library quietly, clearly intending to avoid the Slytherin drama. 

And Neville followed.

Hermione couldn’t fault them for it.

“It wasn’t made only for me,” Pansy snapped. But she quickly softened at Theo’s wounded expression. “If you knew how many…” 

Draco made a disbelieving noise. “It was made for you,” he sneered, his temper rising to a burning degree. “You know what will happen. How could you even consider—”

“Yes, exactly,” Pansy retorted, matching Draco’s ire with a formidable version of her own. “I know the consequences. Better than anyone else with how I’ve been forced to see them over and over for years.” Her knuckles were pale where she gripped the edge of the table. “Believe me, I know.”

Draco’s retort came through gritted teeth. “Then you should also know you haven’t an alternative—”

“Draco,” Hermione breathed, barely loud enough for the sound to be considered a whisper.

But his gaze found hers instantly, turning slightly so that he no longer faced Pansy but angled towards Blaise instead.

A thousand different responses swirled in his eyes, but he chose not to voice them.

“No,” Blaise said, the spark of hope he had retained guttering at the sudden shift in Draco’s posture, which no longer held the rigid tension of offense since he’d cooled from his initial indignation.

At the loss of support, Blaise’s frustration charged the air with negative ions as if he would soon strike with electric force of his own.

So Hermione grounded the grieving man with light pats to his shoulder. “It’s her decision.” She tried to keep her voice calming. “We don’t get to choose what’s best for her.”

Moments of silence passed before he relaxed in the same manner Draco had. 

“And now that we all agree,” Pansy said, hopping gracefully from the table and forcing both men to give her space to pass, “I’m going to redeem myself from the disastrous attempt at meringue I made last night.”

The witch breezed from the room as if she hadn’t just left everyone stunned and scrambling for their next moves for how best to save wizarding society while she went off to hone her french baking techniques.

Draco only nodded solemnly when Hermione offered to follow Pansy to the kitchens, and as she left through the double doors, she could hear the three others had joined in hushed conversation. 

Once she reached her destination, Hermione invited herself into the workspace where Pansy was already separating egg whites into a bowl. 

“I don’t want to explain,” Pansy said.

“Which is why I wasn’t going to ask.”

A small smile formed on Pansy’s lips as she continued with her tricky recipe.

They worked in near silence, Hermione only retrieving and handing over ingredients and charming a spare kettle into an “electric” mixer so Pansy wouldn’t have to whip her meringue by hand again.

The little white swirls of airy mixture had only been in the oven for a few minutes when Pansy contradicted her previous wish. “I know they don’t understand.” She sighed. “For them, magic has always made things easier. But all it ever did for me was complicate an already impossible situation.”

Hermione had to reign the urge to voice how much she resonated with Pansy's statement. “I can empathize.”

Pansy nodded knowingly. “So many times I saw myself intervening on their behalf, keeping them from being in the wrong place at the wrong time, keeping them safe, keeping them alive. But the visions don’t make things happen. I still had to choose to do it. If it was a future I wanted, I had to make it reality. Even when I saw far enough into the timeline to know it meant I would suffer their punishment instead.”

Hermione’s breath stuttered. “Pansy, I didn’t know, no one ever told—”

Pansy shot her a deadly look. “No, they haven’t. Because they don’t know. And it had better stay that way. I did what I had to. Pureblood witches, especially young ones, were far too valuable to kill or permanently disfigure.”

“You didn’t deserve to endure that,” Hermione said quietly.

“You didn’t deserve what they did to you either.”

“No,” she agreed.

“Then there was telling the boys what had to be done. How we had to play our parts just enough to give your side time to win. I knew we’d be trading one pain for another. But we had to…we had to.”

Hermione wanted to reprimand anyone who’d ever caused Pansy to feel anything except gratitude for all she’d sacrificed. “I can’t change what others believe. But I appreciate what you chose to do. One day, I’d like to hear all of it.”

Pansy smirked. “Only if you give me details on some of your less publicized exploits.”

“Deal,” she laughed, and Pansy joined in.

The interlude of levity soon became shadowed by the afternoon’s circumstances once more.

Pansy sighed in frustration. “I know they’ll say I’ll regret it.”

“Most will,” Hermione said. “But you could just as easily regret trying to keep it. ”

“I want a quiet life. I want to heal.”

She could only nod. How many times had she thought the exact same words to herself? It had to number in the thousands.

“I feel like my mind is mine again. Like I was drowning in it, and now I’ve somehow made it to the surface. It’s been so long since my mind was my own.” Pansy straightened with a defiant expression. “I’m more than my magic. I’m still worth something without it.”

“You are,” Hermione agreed adamantly. 

Pansy appeared genuinely grateful, and it surprised Hermione that she would value her opinion at all.

The quiet returned as they waited patiently for the results of their work.

Hermione flicked her wand at the few dishes they'd left, intending to send them towards the sink for washing, but Pansy jumped to hold them forcibly to the table instead.

"Stop that. I want to clean them the muggle way."

With an apologetic look, Hermione put her wand away. “You know, if you’re going to live like a muggle, I could help you learn more about them. I can take you to the other side of Diagon. Oh and I’ve been considering taking Draco to a planetarium. You could join us. We can ask the others as well.”

Pansy laughed at her excitement. “I have no clue as to what a planetarium is, but count me in. Blaise will want to go, too. And you will be there, so of course Draco will be.”

Hermione's throat felt too small for a moment. “Did you mean it? What you said last night? That he…well, you know.”

Pansy assessed her with fond pity. “Everyone at school always thought of him as spoiled. But he was only given what Lucius deemed appropriate for him. It was a way of ensuring the wealth didn’t make him ‘too soft’ to serve the dark lord. Draco was never allowed to have anything he truly wanted. I don’t see him ever giving up finally having the ability to choose.”

“That doesn’t mean he has to choose me.”

Pansy rolled her eyes. “Draco is...difficult. He always has been. I hope you haven’t disillusioned yourself into believing he can change in that respect. He won’t be tamed.”

“That’s not what I intend. Or want.”

“Good. What you do already is far better anyway.”

“And what’s that?”

“You soothe him. How you have the patience for it, I don’t at all understand.” A devious grin spread over her face. “Well, that isn’t actually true. I don’t need magically induced visions to see something so clear. You love him, too.”

“I—what—?” Hermione paused when a familiar comforting scent filled the air around them, one far stronger than the scent of baking sugar coming from the oven.

By the time Draco was standing in the doorway, Hermione’s nerves had increased to the point she was  practically trembling.

She searched his features for any sign he’d overheard their conversation but found no definitive answer.

He seemed to be assessing her as well.

But he quickly focused on Pansy. “I’d like to speak with you if you’ll permit me.”

Hermione looked back, ready to intervene if necessary, but she was met with another half-hearted eye-roll. “I suppose I’ll allow it.”

Draco paused beside Hermione.

“Talk to Weasley…make sure this is what she wants. If not…I’ll find someone who does. I’ll search the whole fucking country if I have to.”

“She’s not going to back out.” The apprehension still clinging to him persuaded her to continue. “But I’ll talk to her.”

When he brushed his palm along her shoulders and neck, she wasn’t sure which of them he sought to calm more.

As Hermione had promised, Ginny was sure about the potion. 

In fact, if they didn’t hand over the hopeful cure soon, Hermione wasn’t entirely confident the witch wouldn’t attempt to steal it.

Hermione set out in search of Draco after leaving Ginny and Harry in a section of the manor quite far from their own room when Blaise approached from the opposite direction in the corridor. 

Hermione braced herself for the anger that never came.

“i wanted to thank you,” he said, his voice still rough and cracking but not at all insincere. “I could have hurt her even more if I’d pushed her to reconsider. I would have followed those impulses had you not been the voice of reason for us all.”

She gave him a small smile. “If I’ve learned anything about her, it’s that no one can force her to do something she’s determined not to do.”

He laughed, wincing when it came out somewhat watery. “As much as she tries to deny it, she cares what Draco thinks of her. You saved her from wounds from both of us.” He swiped at his eye with the back of his hand. “She made me apologize to you before, when I tried to bribe you into finding a different mate. But this time, I want you to know I really am sorry for it. I’m glad you’re here, Granger. Not just for Draco. For all of us.”

“I’m glad I’m here too,” she whispered, her own emotions taking over. 

Blaise nodded once. “He's waiting for you in the study.”

She would have to lie if Draco asked her why it took so long to reach it, and once she was standing outside the door, she found herself unable to go in. 

She was even nervous enough that she was surprised when Draco opened the door and looked at her with part expectation and part exasperation, reminding her he could feel her presence  the entire time she’d been stalling.

But the moment they were secluded in their cozy and beautifully decorated space, she could feel his tension ease just as clearly as she could feel her own fading away. 

He fell into the chaise, and she crawled eagerly into his lap.

“You’re not angry with me?” she asked.

“No.” He inhaled. “Of course I’m not.”

“At them.”

He nodded even though she hadn't really asked a question. “After all they’ve cost us. All they’ve taken. Was it not enough already?”

She watched him reign in his fury, tamping it down so that it was contained but just barely.

“Don’t," she said. “You have to hide your pain when you’re with her because she deserves for you to. Blaise and Theo as well.”

He lowered his head and breathed heavily against her scent gland. 

“They need your strength,” she said. “So you’re stuck sharing your weakness with me.”

They reconvened in the library not long after, with the exception of Pansy and Blaise, who obviously were going to have some difficult conversations of their own.

Harry held Ginny’s hand as Draco retrieved the second dose they’d reserved.

Draco paused, addressing Ginny, "You’re sure?”

“I’ll gladly be your trial subject, Malfoy,” Ginny said playfully, “but I do have a condition.”

“Gin,” Hermione warned, but she was met with more mischief. 

“All I’m asking for is a friendly quidditch match. After I train up a bit, of course. We can divide into our old houses.”

“No, thanks,” Neville said, and Ginny scowled at him.

“Then thats three on two.” Hermione said.

“You’re not playing?” Theo asked Hermione.

Ginny laughed. “Not if we want to win, she isn’t. You’ve never seen her near a broom, have you?”

“You’re still welcome on our team, Granger," Draco said, smirking as he joined her side in front of the hope-filled Potters. "But either way I accept.” He handed over the potion. “Drink up, Weasley.”

Ginny downed the liquid in one go.

Chapter Text

Ginny’s wand flew violently from her grasp. 

It landed in Draco’s waiting palm as he glared menacingly at the ginger haired witch. An intricately crafted—and historically significant—sconce smoked from its now deformed state on the wall behind him.

Hermione shifted her hand to Draco’s thigh, and thankfully he relaxed beneath her touch.

Well, he did so slightly.

“Thrilled as I am with the successful return of your power, Weasley,” Draco said, glaring at the offending piece of wood, “if you cast another spell at something of mine, you’ll be retrieving this from the bottom of the lake.”

The atmosphere of the library shifted so that Hermione could have sworn she noticed Theo shiver, while Blaise and Neville tensed, and Harry straightened defensively on his wife’s behalf. 

But Ginny grinned in sheer maniacal delight.

“So disagreeable,” she tutted, reaching across Hermione from the opposite side and regaining control of her wand, leveling a mischievous look at Hermione, then at Draco. “And also very, very lucky some people are into that.”

Draco had been in a particularly unfriendly mood since the previous afternoon, when Neville had offered Hermione a sample of their newer—and more potent—scent blocking agent they’d been focused on perfecting.

Busy with research and entertaining guests, she and Draco had had no opportunity to ‘correct’ her neutralized pheromones.

The effect it had on him was noticable to everyone there.

And to make things worse, Ginny had mistakenly chosen an item Hermione had selected to add to the manor decor as a target for a rather destructive spell. 

At least Hermione had assumed it happened mistakenly. 

The wicked gleam in her friend’s eye was indicating otherwise.

“I didn’t realize you had such an attachment to family heirlooms, Malfoy.” With another flourish of her wand, Ginny restored the melted metal of the item in question. “I have noticed several new things have appeared throughout your home, though. Things you seem to value more highly. Care to enlighten us as to what’s so special about them?”

His mouth flattened into a thin line. 

“No?” Ginny’s smile grew. “What about you, Hermione? Do you have anything to share about the changes? They surely have some sort of familial or traditional connection because no way are they based solely on appearance.”

Draco made a low sound that some would likely describe as a snarl.

While Hermione searched her brain for a suitable response.

Ginny’s brows rose as she waited expectantly.

“I…well…” Hermione began.

But before she could say another word, a familiar eagle owl swooped into the library from the open balcony doors and dropped a parchment envelope in front of Draco.

The owl accepted a quick scratch of gratitude from Hermione and then took flight again.

The seal on the correspondence caught her eye.

Then turned her stomach.

“That’s the minister’s seal,” she said, all but forgetting Ginny’s attempt to make her squirm. There was no need for the extra effort now. 

Draco only nodded, somehow going even more pale.

She knew what he was thinking.

They’d been quietly distributing the antidote to those in their community most in need, Hermione and Neville acting as trusted sources of aid while Draco’s involvement was kept secret at his own insistence. 

Hermione fucking hated it. Especially since she knew it was necessary.

They’d gone through the proper channels of approval with the ministry first, also leaving out Draco’s role.

But it seemed the minister had somehow found out anyway.

“Here, you open it,” Draco said, sliding the letter in front of Hermione.

A thousand consequences rushed through her head, some she could live with and some that had her power crackling in her fingertips in anticipation of defending her…well, defending Draco.

She used the rage as a motivator, ripping through the seal and skimming the elegant script on the thick parchment inside.

She read it again more carefully to be sure she’d understood. 

Hermione laughed, tossing the whole thing aside and sliding back in her chair in relief. “It’s just an invitation. To the ministry’s Yule celebration. For your effort with our cure and ‘selfless decision to refuse proper recognition for your achievement.’ The minister wants you to be his personal guest.” She scoffed, her anger simmering. “Of course they’ve decided to treat you respectfully now that they’ve seen how useful you could be for them.”

She leveled her wand at the letter with the intent to turn it to ash.

Draco deftly removed it from her aim.

She looked up, confused.

“I’m going.”

Hermione almost laughed again. “What?”

“I’m accepting his invitation.”

“I know what you said, Draco. The question was because I don’t understand why you would even consider it.”

He sighed.

Ginny pushed her chair back. “Right, so we’re leaving for tea.”

“But it’s only—”

“Shut it, Theo,” Ginny snapped. “Out. Everyone.”

She was met with no more dissent, and Hermione shot her a grateful expression, thankful that while unashamedly toying with Hermione’s emotions, Ginny also understood the boundary of when sobriety was necessary. 

Once they were alone, Hermione turned to Draco again. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. He knew she didn’t want to attend. She’d denied her own invitation days ago.

“Have you forgotten Pansy’s vision of you being…” His jaw flexed when he clenched his teeth, but a light touch to his wrist eased his tension enough for him to continue.  “Now that she’s chosen to live without her abilities, I haven’t the luxury of waiting for her to reassure me.”

“And you’re going to the gala for what purpose? Finding another seer?”

“No,” he said with finality, dark shadows creeping over his features. “To improve public opinion of me enough to keep you safe.”

She stared into the cold silver of his eyes. “You mean to bargain with him.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth.

Draco’s resolve didn’t so much as ripple at her undisguised displeasure. “I’m prepared to do whatever Kingsley demands for my atonement.”

“For an unjust debt that has already been repaid a hundred times over. If they can’t understand the gravity of what you’ve accomplished...” 

But that was the problem. They did understand. Just as they understood her own contributions. 

But they didn’t care. 

They would exploit him just as they had her. 

And he planned to allow it.

Minutes passed between the two of them in silent disagreement.

Until Draco’s touch provided the guiding calm she’d come to crave from him as much as she craved him in every other way. He’d even avoided direct contact with her scent gland and still Hermione found clarity in the simple tactile sensation.

She matched his determination with her own. “I’m going as well.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I wasn’t asking, Draco. I was informing you of my intentions.”

“We can’t be seen together. Not yet. Not until I’m sure you won’t face retribution for being with me.”

“Then we’ll attend separately. With our scents neutralized.”

His eyes narrowed, his fingers continuing their caress of her neck but still careful to avoid the most vulnerable section. “And how do you think I will react?” He asked, his voice taking on dangerous edge she’d only heard a few times before. “Unable to be by your side, forced to watch the advances of every Alpha foolish enough to dream you would choose them as your mate?”

It almost made her rational mind nervous, how much his fire thrilled her. But her Omega settled contentedly into his heat and possessiveness, which, in turn, sparked those same feelings of her own. “So instead, you’re asking me to sit at home while every available Omega in the country does the same to you?”

His irritation thawed instantly, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards as he leaned even closer. "Are you jealous, Granger?"

“Of course I am,” she snapped.

His smirk grew.

She groaned and scrubbed at her own scent gland, but the action did nothing to help, especially when compared to the instant relief that could be brought by Draco’s touch. “It isn’t that I don’t trust you. It’s just…what we are now…I can’t always control what the Omega wants…or feels. It’s irrational, I know—”

“Quite irrational,” he said humorously, shifting so he could rub the other side of her neck. 

It calmed her but didn't completely erase her worry over how to manage the infuriating situation.

Hermione didn’t like the pitying expression Draco wore, but she also wasn’t prepared for more inept attempts at explaining her feelings. 

After watching her expectantly for several moments, he finally spoke again. “Alright. We’ll both go. Separately, as you suggested.” He slowly rose to his feet. “I’m going to send my reply and ask Blaise for advice on additional precautions while we’re there.”

She only nodded her acceptance, confused as to why he hadn’t pressed harder to have his way.

Draco paused.

Then he reached out to tip her chin so that she had no option but to look up at him, his eyes no longer ice but now searingly bright. “I quite like how envy looks on you,” he said. “Though it’s entirely unnecessary. I’m as much yours as you are mine, Omega.”

He left with her still frustrated but perhaps hiding a smile behind her open book, too.

Draco finally returned hours later, having taken far longer than she’d expected. 

“The others thought we could use some time alone for the rest of the evening.”

Her body warmed at the thought. “Was Blaise able to give you the advice you wanted?”

“He did,” Draco said. “He also wanted my input on his own problems.”

“Oh?”

“Pansy wants to go to the Zabini estate for a while. In Italy. Blaise has been secretly renovating his home there to include muggle amenities. He’s just told her about it.”

“That’s, wow—” The undeniable care and willingness to undergo such an arduous process on an ancient estate took her by surprise. Of course she’d known Blaise loved his wife, but this was…more than that. 

And for him to do it while he still had hope of finding a cure?

It bordered on insanity. 

“Did he know? That she would refuse it all along?”

Draco shook his head. “It was only meant to be a contingency. In case I failed. He’s asked if I’ll go with them for support.”

She could see and sense his reluctance. “You should.”

“But you—”

She brushed off his concern. “Will be perfectly fine here while you’re away. I’m buried in research as it is.”

“He wants me to stay the week, but a day or two is all—”

“Right,” she hurried through her encouragement, ignoring the discomfort his words had brought on. “A week then.” Despite her Omega’s insistence she wouldn’t survive such time and distance between them, Hermione willed herself to reassure him for Pansy’s sake. And honestly for Blaise’s too. “He needs you there, Draco. I don’t think he would have asked otherwise. Would he?”

He declined to admit it, but he did relent. “I suppose that would lessen our scents for the ministry.” He sighed with frustration. “Especially if I portkey directly there from Italy.”

The suggestion jolted through her. She couldn’t be sure she’d be able to resist being so close without a proper reunion if they followed through with his plan. “You know what else would help with that?” She sulked. “Not going.”

“No one is forcing you to join.” He smirked down at her, pulling her in closer by her hips. “Remind me again why you want to so badly.”

“Arse,” she growled, reaching up to circle her arms around him, purposefully applying pressure to his scent gland. “Because you’re mine.”

A small gasp of shock left her as they spun into unexpected apparition, her back landing flat onto something soft with Draco’s body pressed roughly down over her. 

She could hear the crackle of the fire, the warmth from it intensifying against her skin as Draco vanished her clothing.

“Say that again, Granger.”

Chapter Text

Hermione’s nerves were a certified disaster.

She would never admit it to anyone, but she hadn’t even been able to convince herself to leave the manor a single time since Draco had gone.

While a part of her bristled in indignation at the state of her anxious mind, an undeniable thread of rationale wove throughout her thoughts, preventing her from unraveling entirely.

It had been worse than she’d imagined, being separated from Draco for so long now that they’d become…more committed to one another.

The realization had first served as a catalyst for even more disquietude, but time had eventually brought clarity.

It was the damn Omega .

It wanted…

Hermione sighed.

Because she could no longer cower from the truth.

It wanted her Alpha.

Longed for him in a way that was part terrifying part exhilarating.

Even months away from her heat, she could feel its hunger to be claimed by him.

And in his absence, the new and primal part of her psyche had become insatiable.

She’d transferred all of her books to his study, where his scent was most concentrated, and she’d hardly been able to persuade the Omega to leave the room, except for a handful of short excursions around the sprawling home.

She had also—entirely by chance, of course—found his practice quidditch kit in the massive walk-in wardrobe in his bedroom and had borrowed one of his personalized jerseys to sleep in each night, wrapping herself in as much of the fresh woodsy scent as she possibly could. 

Otherwise, she'd kept herself busy with her reading, scouring so many books for any scrap of aid for their problem with the forest that she had lost count, and a terribly precarious stack of discarded texts served as her only company inside the library.

Her Omega was kept placated solely by written communication.

A spelled set of notebooks similar to the ones she and Ginny used allowed her to communicate with Draco more efficiently than by owl, and she found herself checking it for new messages more often than she would ever admit aloud.

Though any shame such behavior would have caused was assuaged after finding that in each case, Draco had, in fact, written to her.

Knowing he'd already returned to the Parkinson estate in the early morning and remained so close yet still outside of her reach all because of a sadistic political game had been steadily twisting her nerves into irritation instead.

With a hiss-like sigh, she tossed another unhelpful text aside and picked up their notebook again.

But just as she opened to the last third of the pages where they'd left off, she was alerted to the presence of guests at the front gate.

She snapped the cover closed and gripped her wand.

Arriving just in time to see Blaise disapparate , she rushed to allow Pansy inside.

Her equilibrium failed, giving the sensation she had spun into magical travel again as well, though her feet remained planted firmly to the crushed gravel drive. “What is…? Is everyone—?”

“He’s fine.” Pansy gave her a pitying look. “As well as you are, at least.”

The relief made her feel ridiculous, but she didn’t have the capacity to care.

“We'd have sent an emergency patronus if something were wrong, you know." Pansy regarded her thoughtfully. "I’d really hoped you would be less of a work-in-progress by now.”

Hermione ignored that little remark, trailing after Pansy towards the manor’s entrance. “Why do I have a suspicion this isn’t a social visit?”

Pansy breezed into the grand hall. “Because you underestimate my ability to multitask.”

As expected, they settled in the kitchens.

Wincing internally at her own insensitivity in thinking only of her own problems first, Hermione slid her chair in close to Pansy's. "How are you feeling?"

"Better than in quite a while."

"I'm glad," she said.

Draco had first written about how strenuous their trip had been for Pansy, but as more days went by, she'd steadily grown stronger.

They'd hypothesized that as Pansy's magic slowly drained away, the rest of her body had been able to find stability.

"And Blaise?"

"He still had hope I would change my mind for a while."

Which Draco had also mentioned.

"But he's always fought for me." She made an amused sound. "Something you've experienced."

"I don't hold it against him." In fact, the intensity of his desperation still haunted her.

"Most people don't." Pansy gave a small shake of her head. "Blase fights gently. Methodically. He's quick to realize when he's pushed too far." She paused. "Not at all like Draco."

Unease crept up Hermione's spine. "No," she quietly agreed.

"They won't forgive him if tonight goes wrong,” Pansy’s own nervousness became visible in the set of her mouth. “We both know they won't. He only gets this one opportunity to prove he isn't what they believe him to be."

"I tried to convince him to decline his invitation."

"A valiant effort,” Pansy praised. Then she sighed. “But there's a reason Lucius never once gave in to Draco's wants. Not even Yule gift requests." Hermione's unease transfigured into rage as Pansy went on. "He understood Draco's nature. Knew of his restraint in desiring what lied just beyond his grasp. And also what would happen whenever something he wanted became his."

A silent bid for solidarity passed between them.

"Draco won't relent. He won't be tempered. If the need to fight arises, he will do it. And it will be without mercy."

"If you're here to warn me, your effort is a redundancy."

Pansy gave a sly smile. "Keep up, Granger. As I said, my reason for being here is multipurpose." She rose and began rifling through the cupboards. "Like how I've been itching for someone fun to bake with."

They spent the next two hours working in a cloud of flour as curiosity over why the witch continued to stall in divulging her true reason for being there rose to a boiling point.

Multitasking or no, Hermione had learned enough about the former seer to recognize when she was plotting.

And whatever the plan was affected her.

As they waited for their pastry to bake, Pansy held a mostly one sided conversation about the regional iterations of millefeuille until Hermione finally had enough.

"And Italians—"

“Pansy."

She'd snapped the name with such bite, it actually drew her attention. "Out with it.”

Pansy smirked with falsely innocent wide eyes. “For someone so abundantly patient ," the word was sickly sweet, "you certainly don't offer much to those around you in return."

Hermione took a steadying breath. "Please. I can't handle the suspense any longer."

A rapid eye roll conveyed more pity than frustration. "We had a lovely time at the Zabini estate.”

“Glad to hear it,” Hermione gritted.

“Draco spent nearly every moment researching, but his presence kept Blaise grounded. It means a lot to me you encouraged him to join us.” Pansy gave a genuine look of gratitude for only a moment before shifting into something more devious. “We read some, too. I even learned a new word from one of your muggle science books Draco brought along. It gave me inspiration.”

Hermione's suspicion grew. “Inspiration for what exactly?”

Pansy reached into her handbag and then produced a miniature black box, holding it  in the palm of her hand. “The dress you’ll be wearing to the ministry tonight. Unshrink it for me, please.” She placed it onto the table in front of Hermione.

Brief consideration was made of not doing as Pansy asked.

But in the end, curiosity won.

Hermione drew her wand across the ominous gift, enlarging it to its proper size, and then, with a flick, she removed the lid.

She stared, unable to do anything more.

“I know,” Pansy said, leaning into Hermione’s shoulder to share in her admiration. “It's perfect, isn’t it?”

“Where did you find this?” she breathed.

“I told you I’m still quite valuable even without my magic.”

Hermione had never been mesmerized by an article of clothing before, but she was currently experiencing the phenomenon in excess.

Luminous gold first stole her attention.

But the color, as opulent as it was, would have appeared common in comparison to the effect it had when combined with the magically interlaced pattern.

She ran her fingers across the scale-like material, surprised to find it supple and smooth, slipping easily through her grasp. Genuine dragonhide—not that she would wear such—would certainly have been less expensive, and even amongst purebloods steeped in decades of wealth, the dress would cause sensation.

It was the visual representation of a threat.

Hermione dragged her gaze away, turning back to Pansy. “I cant wear this.”

“Shut it, Granger. I have rebuttals to your most likely arguments. Let’s save ourselves the trouble and put the time to better use. If I have to do your eyeliner without magic, we’ll need it.”

“I shouldn’t draw so much attention to myself.”

This eye roll was definitely one of annoyance. “You’re their Mother Omega. The attention is already yours.”

Hermione hated that it was true.

“Besides,” Pansy said, a smug expression on her face, “I believe there will be one person there whose notice you do want. It’s been a long separation, hasn’t it?”

Her reply got trapped inside her throat.

God, the way he would look at her...

“That’s low,” she grumbled. Then, she sighed. “But you win.”

“Of course I do.” Pansy opened her handbag again and retrieved several cosmetic products, lining them on the table. “Now turn towards me. This will probably take a few tries.”

Hermione complied, and despite the uncertainty on both their parts, Pansy was satisfied with her effort after only one failed application. She asked for assistance with a quick setting spell and then pulled Hermione to standing to help her change into the gown.

She soon was dragged before an ornately carved standing mirror.

The image was startling.

Not because her appearance had been altered.

It was the opposite.

She'd never before found formal attire that made her feel so much like herself.

She ran her hand across the silk-smooth layer of gold over her middle, catching Pansy’s gaze in the reflection. “What was the word?”

“Hmm?”

“The one you said inspired you.”

Pansy gave a very Slytherin smile. “Aposematism.”

Hermione swallowed hard, unsure she wanted to know the answer to the question burning inside her throat. She asked it anyway. "Will it save him? From whatever it is they intend to use him for?"

"I don't know." Pansy's features darkened. "But I assumed you would agree it worth trying."

Hermione stood straighter, allowing the intention to embolden and also ground her.  “You’ve earned my trust for eternity.”

Pansy, clearly satisfied with her achievement, took up Hermione's hand and escorted her towards the floo. “Thank fucking Merlin, Granger. There's hope for you, after all.”

Hermione paced alongside the Potters' dining table for the thousandth time, her nerves resurfacing with a vengeance after Pansy had handed her over to their care.

She'd barely paid them any mind, instead mentally crafting dozens of contingencies for how to keep herself from running to Draco the moment she saw him, effectively declaring to the entire ministry that they were in a relationship.

It wasn't until a high-pitched yelp broke her concentration that she focused on her friends once more.

“Should I be jealous?” Harry chuckled, his wand raised casually towards his wife, who was regaining her composure after what was probably a mild tickling hex. “You’ve not taken your eyes from Hermione since she came through the fireplace.”

“Look at her,” Ginny all but wailed. “Where else am I meant to focus?”

“I get it," Harry admitted. "But you could at least split the difference."

Ginny gave him a sly grin. "I plan to. You'll have my undivided attention later this evening."

"In that case..." He waved an upturned palm towards Hermione with a smirk of his own.

She'd witnessed the entire exchange with growing agitation, knowing her own Omega would not be so generous were she faced with the same situation. She didn't remember being quite so covetous where Ron was concerned so it had to be a product of the altered biology.

Surely since Ginny was an Omega and Harry an Alpha, they struggled similarly. 

"Hmm," she wondered aloud, "does being mated relieve some of the...jealousy you both feel?"

"Oh, you poor thing," Ginny made a face to match her statement. "We aren't technically mated yet. Theo believes I'll have enough magic built back to complete a bond during my next heat. But we have always been comfortable in our relationship like this. You know that. We're still us."

"Well yes, but—

Ginny's grin widened. "Just because you can't fathom the idea of mates appreciating the physical appearances of others doesn't mean everyone is like that. You never have been keen on sharing.” Her eyes sparked with mischief. “It reminds me of someone else we know."

Hermione's chest tightened, her mind unhelpfully supplying a dozen scenarios where she or Draco would be forced to feign indifference as they navigated the gala separately.

She thought she might be having a panic attack.

"Oh god, I don't think I can do this."

"Yes, you can," Ginny said, most of the humor gone from her tone.

"We'll be right there with you." Harry moved to grab a handful of floo powder. "And the floor is free in my office if you need to pop in for a quick lie down."

Ginny straightened Harry's collar as she stepped in close, dragging Hermione towards the hearth as well and then shooting a conspiratorial smirk over her shoulder. "And there's a supply closet free one door on if you and Malfoy decide to scrap this whole avoidance plan."

Ginny winked as they vanished into the cloud of green.

With anticipation singeing every single one of her nerve endings, Hermione followed right after.

Chapter Text

Molten silver flooded her field of vision.

She was drowning in it. 

Somewhere, in a faraway land of rationality, she remembered why she wasn’t supposed to allow that to happen, but all of those reasons had drifted out of her reach the moment she’d emerged from the ministry’s floo.

As if drawn by gravitational force, she’d found Draco effortlessly, meeting his gaze across the atrium. 

He’d found hers with equal quickness.

So close. 

It would be so easy to—

A sudden influx of awareness and scrutiny bloomed inside her bones as her power stretched painfully in all directions.

And although they must have been there all along, she finally registered the presence of others.

The realization brought a moment of clarity.

Until the force of Draco's magic wrapped around her, giving a protective barrier of strength and support so strong it was as if they were alone once more.

Her pulse tripled as he studied her face. 

To those who didn't know him, Draco's cold demeanor could have been interpreted as annoyance. 

Perhaps even animosity. 

But his intensity only served to further embolden her. 

Even from so far away, she could see how covetously he drank in the sight of her, his posture rigid as if he were using every muscle to hold himself back from closing the final distance.

Then he shifted from studying her face to taking in the the rest of her appearance, and his expression turned even darker, scalding her skin and urging her to turn and flee, her nervous system falling prey to the familiar desire she’d come to crave so badly.

But before she could take the first step, the silver she’d lost herself in abruptly disappeared.

Blocked from her line of sight by the minister himself halving the distance between them.

With the unintentional spell broken, Hermione stood tall while Kingsley considered her, open disappointment hardening his expression as he noted her attire.

She refused to relent, imbuing her own features with as much warning as she was capable of.

Several people near her backed away as her power crackled in the air.

Kingsley’s flash of fear before he hid the reaction only provoked her further.

Well if he wants a duel…

Her wand hand flexed.

But instead of meeting her challenge, the minister opted for a diplomatic approach, and with a final disapproving glare, he finally turned away.

But before she could appreciate her small victory, she realized he’d set his sights on Draco instead, closing the distance between them, briefly engaging others in the crowd in his own show of power.

Hermione stepped forward instinctively.

A touch to her wrist stopped her, and she looked back to find Harry speaking, though she couldn’t convince her mind to process the words.

Ginny quickly intervened, linking her arm through Hermione's and escorting her the opposite way.

“As much as I’m in favor of you throwing the first spell,” Ginny said, “you made me promise I wouldn’t allow you to do that. You bought some time with this dress, but even this isn’t going to distract them forever.”

Hermione’s face flamed, her attention returning—mostly—to her friends. She had nearly ruined their plans for discretion mere minutes into the night. "This is more difficult than I expected,” she admitted. “I should have asked you to bring along an eavesdropping potion from Fred and George."

Ginny grimaced sympathetically. "It would have been confiscated. Besides, we hardly need one.”

Continued effort to calm herself did very little. “What do you think he’s planning to say to him?”

Ginny’s own countenance darkened. “Who could say? But I know his intent. Same as always once he’s found something you care about. He’s using you as leverage to get Malfoy in line.”

It sounded even worse aloud.

“And after tonight,” Harry added, “he’ll use Malfoy to manipulate you."

Dread pierced her middle. "But he doesn't know I..."

"He does, Hermione." Ginny said gently. "It's obvious to people who know you. Really know you. And unfortunately, Kingsley is one of those people. Someone you once trusted."

"We all did," Harry said flatly, eyeing the floating tray of champagne as it passed by. 

Hermione's jaw clenched, words sour in her mouth. "Remind me why I agreed to this."

She followed as Harry glanced towards the minister, where he still spoke with false friendliness to an increasingly ill-tempered, though valiantly polite, Draco. 

She had to force herself to drag her eyes away.

Then Harry shifted his sights to Sprout, who Hermione was irritated to see was seated between two entire tables of presumable Alphas, including Zacharias. 

She spotted Ron not far away.

“Sorry to side against you.” Harry winced. “But I respect Malfoy’s decision. And I think it was the right one. If we weren't here to hold them accountable, they would get away with doing whatever they want."

“I’m tired of the necessity," Hermione said, already exhausted by the theatrics of it all. "I’d prefer to be at home, reading by firelight.” She sighed longingly at the thought. “Or on the library balcony.”

Ginny and Harry exchanged a look. 

It took Hermione’s mind a moment to catch on, replaying her previous statement in her mind. “I mean…wait…I didn’t—"

“It’s alright, Hermione." Ginny squeezed her hand. "We know exactly what you meant. There's no reason for any shame."

Harry looked almost wistful.

The offering of support lifted a weight Hermione didn’t even realize she’d been collapsing beneath. 

She opened her mouth to offer them her gratitude—

"Shame for what?"

Ron’s voice broke the moment as he shouldered into the empty space in their small circle.

Ginny spun towards him. "What are you doing? You're meant to be with Sprout, you idiot."

Harry placed a not-so-subtle hand over his wife's wrist, preventing her from raising her wand. "Which I'm sure he was just getting back to, right?”

Ron exchanged annoyed looks with all three of them. "Why’s everyone overreacting? It's a party, not a bloody battlefront."

"Yes," Harry said, just shy of patronizing, “and we want Hermione to be able to enjoy the party with us. Which is why we agreed to make sure she doesn’t have to be on guard all evening."

Ron scoffed. "That’s what the scent cancelling nonsense is for. We’re here to look out for her. So is Neville. And Nott, if he can be trusted like you say."

Ginny's eye twitched. “Actually Neville and Theo had to leave last moment. The centaurs invited them to a stargazing ceremony. And since it's the only chance we have to find out how the forest is faring—"

"That still leaves us," Ron shrugged, entirely unconcerned.

Which earned him a look of disappointment from Hermione and one of fury from his sister.

Harry let go of Ginny's wand hand in what Hermione assumed was part defeat and part endorsement. "Don't complain to me if she hexes you."

Ron narrowed his eyes at Ginny. "You wouldn't."

"It's like I'm a stranger to you." Ginny returned a scathing look. "Unless you want to spend the rest of the night at St. Mungo's, go back to where you're meant to be."

“We’ll alternate in an hour,” Harry added. “As we planned.”

Ron raised his hands in a show of surrender. “Alright, I’m going, I’m going.”

He stalked off with his head hung.

Ginny glared after her brother. "I can hex him now, right? That was cause enough?"

Harry rubbed his hand over Ginny's waist. "If you do, you'll only give him reason to abandon his post again."

"True.” Ginny gave a flippant nod. "Tomorrow, then."

“Come on,” Harry said, somewhere between exasperation and amusement, “I pulled a few strings with the dinner courses.”

Once seated, Hermione realized ‘a few strings’ had been an understatement. The menu was comprised of all Ginny’s favorites, several selections she knew for a fact had been denied in the past due to cost concerns. 

The arrival of each new dish added a bit more sparkle to Ginny’s pale blue eyes while Harry sat beside his wife exuding immense satisfaction.

Hermione’s chair faced away from Draco’s distant table, but though she could no longer see him, his presence was undeniable.

A constant entity over the following hour.

Even more than she was accustomed to.

His magic shielding her from the strain of being in a crowd.

A surprise cooling charm after she’d nervously wiped her palms on her napkin. 

A gentle stream of air lifting a flyaway curl where it had fallen over her eye.

What she assumed was an undetectable confundus each time anyone set out to interrupt her conversations with her friends.

And twice, she thought she’d caught a transfigured hellebore bloom hidden in the centerpiece that looked suspiciously like a tiny salamander before it shimmered into deep red petals once more. 

It was as if he meant to sustain them both with the only form of contact they were allowed.

Each passing moment, anticipation burned hotter and hotter inside her veins. 

Her Omega was ready to scale the fucking walls.

She was about to excuse herself to walk off some of the nervous energy when four members of the Wizengamot approached, one of them with a tightly gripped wand.

Her hackles raised in an instant.

But she was met with only serene smiles.

“Mother Omega, we would be honored to receive guidance and wisdom from you tonight, if you would be willing to give a brief speech.”

She knew them well enough to know her willingness was irrelevant to them.

Harry answered before she could invent an excuse. “Of course she is.” Then he leaned in to speak so only Hermione could hear. “Like old times.”

She stifled a grateful smile as the three of them followed the officials towards the small stage along the side of the atrium.

Ron surprised her by falling in beside Harry on the opposite side. “Times up. It’s my turn.”

“A little busy if you couldn’t tell. I’ll be over to get you after I steal Hermione’s speech for her.” Harry said conspiratorially.

This time she did laugh.

Ron made a small sound she knew too well. One that let her know he was about to disappoint her once more. “I can’t handle another second of Sprout’s Alpha horde. Like she’s running a bloody rescue or something.”

“It’s fine,” Hermione rushed out before Harry or Ginny got the chance to argue. “Take a break until I’m interrupted by Harry. It’s not as if they can do anything while I’m addressing the crowd. We’ll meet at the fountain.”

“Thanks, Hermione.” Ron exhaled in obvious relief. “I can always count on you.”

He veered off from their procession, ignoring multiple hushed protests hurled at his back.

“Alright. Now you can hex him,” Harry gritted.

Ginny switched to her husband’s free side. “This calls for a level of creativity I’m unable to commit to at the moment.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Hermione said, plastering a false smile in place.

Harry took her hand as they climbed the short set of stairs.

“I swear when I find him, I’m going to—”

Ginny broke into a delighted squeal as she scanned the space over Hermione’s head for the sixth time.

She had only had to bear a quick greeting and a few flowery sentences to the audience before Harry smoothly took up where she’d ended, allowing her to make her escape to join Ginny beside the fountain to meet Ron.

Only he still hadn’t showed.

“Spinnet,” Ginny called, waving the other witch over while also answering Hermione’s question of why her friend had gone from furious to elated in half a second. A quick turn around, even for her.

Alicia Spinnet rushed to them, she and Ginny hugging tightly.

They were soon all three falling easily into their decades old friendship.

“Wait,” Ginny said, still grinning from another one of Alicia’s lively stories about her time playing quidditch for the Harpies. “I thought you were still on tour.”

“You haven’t heard?” Alicia asked, continuing when Ginny shook her head. “Puddlemere and the Falcons had to call off their match last night when their snitch refused to fly. The league decided to be overly cautious and postpone everything.”

“Sorry about that.”

“At least I get to see you,” Alicia said. “And you too, Hermione. You look stunning, by the way.”

She smiled, genuinely happy to see Ginny’s former teammate, one of the few classmates they’d kept a relationship with after school. “It’s been too long. Since that after party in Cornwall, if I remember correctly. And thank you. You’re gorgeous as always.”

Alicia laughed. “Well now I’ve been vindicated. I tried to strike a conversation with Malfoy while you were on stage, and he pretended I didn’t exist.”

Hermione worked to control her breathing.

“Of course he did,” Ginny said smugly. "Everyone knows Malfoy is an arse. It's something you'd have to be alright with if you're considering him. In fact, you might even have to like it.”

“Who would ever like that?” Alicia made a disturbed face.

Ginny's smirk grew wide. “Shocking, I know. But some people seem to prefer it.”

If it hadn’t been too obvious, Hermione would have kicked Ginny in the shin.

How much longer did they have to be there?

Alicia sighed dreamily, leaning in close. “But, Merlin, he’s gotten fit since we’ve all changed, hasn’t he.” She downed her glass of champagne. “I think it might have to give it another go.”

“Erm…” Ginny trailed off, side-eying Hermione.

“Wish me luck.” Oblivious to their silent panic, Alicia shared a knowing smile with them both. “I’ve yet to meet an unmated Alpha who can resist a willing Omega. I think I can manage his poor attitude for a half-hour. I’ll catch up with you both afterwards.”

With a quick pair of stilted embraces, the witch was off to make her advances.

And while Hermione adored Alicia and would have, under simpler circumstances, told her the truth about her current predicament, she didn’t trust her Omega to behave rationally knowing the other woman’s intentions.

Already, she burned in frustration.

With the need to make a claim.

Because Draco was hers.

Hermione took a shaky breath. “Gin…”

“Already on it,” she said, rushing after their friend and physically changing their course towards the bar instead.

Hermione sighed in relief.

She refocused on Harry’s speech, which soon after came to a close, but as the music began and distracted the attendees with finding a partner, Harry was pulled into what appeared as a borderline interrogation from the Wizengamot members.

She was considering retaking the stage when a person she absolutely did not want to deal with approached.

Zacharias Smith gave her a friendly smile. "Hermione...you look…well. Would you join me for a dance?"

She shook her head but softened her rejection with what she hoped was a convincing enough smile. "I hadn't planned on joining anyone."

Smith shifted closer, almost casually enough she could have mistaken the move for a coincidence. "Hmm, we’ll see."

"Excuse me?" She glanced around for any sign of ginger hair.

Goddammit, Ronald.

Smith advanced again. More deliberately this time. "Pomona is disappointed in you, you know. She thought you would be less cavalier about your responsibilities, that she'd made it clear it was time to stop whatever game it is you're playing and find your true mate."

Ron was missing.

Harry was occupied.

And Ginny…where had she gone? 

She twisted to find Alicia had settled at the bar with a man Hermione had never seen before, though his size made her suspect him to be an Alpha.

But Ginny still hadn’t returned.

Left with no more options, and suddenly anxious enough to chance it, she looked for Draco, hoping he would be able to send some ally her way. She found him easily, subtly signaling for help, but just as at the beginning of the evening, Kingsley blocked their connection to one another by stepping directly in front of Draco. 

She shook her head, avoiding Zacharias’ gaze. "It's no game—"

He cut off the attempt to explain her actions. "I defended you, of course. I know it isn't your fault. Anyone would be confused under the thrall of such a corrupting influence."

A burning sensation sparked in her fingertips. "I am the only influence for what decisions I make.”

He followed her gaze where she'd tried to reach Draco again. Then he shook his head in obvious pity. "He isn't good for you, Hermione. You need someone who can give you the life you deserve. Someone who fits in with our society. Who would encourage you to be of service to our people instead of indulging in your newly emerged base instincts. We can't behave like frightened animals."

An incredulous note of laughter escaped from her mouth. "Is this a genuine conversation?"

He stepped forward again, uncomfortably close. "Don't worry. Soon you'll be able to be free again, to see this for what it was. Just pheromones clouding your judgment."

Where her skin had burned before now crystalized with ice. "What did you do?"

His smug smile made her stomach turn. "Don't give me the credit. Pomona is the one who convinced Kingsley. You should be happy of Malfoy's success. If he accepts, he’ll be officially appointed to the Wizengamot, in his father’s vacant seat. It will go a long way in garnering the trust of our society."

His father’s place. 

Draco would sooner turn the manor into a basilisk hatchery. 

She had to forcibly keep from rolling her eyes. "If he chose to accept, how much would such influence damage his Gringotts vault?"

Smith didn’t seem to note her sarcasm. "None at all. There's only one obligation Malfoy must fulfill."

Indignation melted into dread as her confidence flagged. 

Something wasn’t adding up.

She’d never excelled at this kind of battle. Always too heavy handed or not quite firm enough.

And when people she cared about were the collateral…

Her mind spun a complicated web of causes and eventualities, tangling and ensnaring her in doubt.

She needed more time to sort everything out.

But her opponents had found—or known all along—her weakness and were currently holding her by the godless heels. 

Instinctively, her eyes sought out her Alpha, asking for his presence this time, finding she could see his face, Kingsley still speaking to him but shifted to his side. 

Draco's expression was devoid of all emotion, cold and unyielding as stone. 

His silver eyes landed on hers for one heartening moment.

But he looked away just as quickly. 

A frozen barb lodged in her chest.

Turning back to Smith, she could barely put strength into the words. "What is Kingsley demanding of him?"

His smug expression unnerved her. "He has to give up you. This...whatever you two were calling it, is over."

Even knowing they had no power to ensure such a thing, it felt as if the imaginary weapon in her chest had just been ripped out the way it had entered, doing far more damage than a clean wound through and through. 

She swallowed thickly. "And if he refuses?"

“I suspect his life would get much more difficult going forward. As would yours."

She almost forgot where they were, but she controlled her fury just in time to keep from drawing attention. “I won’t let this happen.”

He regarded her with pity. “It isn’t up to you.”

"Then you’ve underestimated him,” she said. “You all have."