All You Want Episode 4 - Harry Potter

This chapter is a rich, character-driven listen that keeps the mic close on Hermione Granger’s point of view. Fevered and vulnerable, Hermione rides the storm of her first heat while Draco Malfoy stays by her side, offering care, grounding touch, and patient reassurance. Clarity returns in waves, trust is tested against their history, and a fragile bond begins to take shape inside post-war Hogwarts. 

Transcript

Chapter 4: I Feel The Way You Want Me

Heat began to burn through Hermione's exhaustion, reaching her consciousness like flickering flames. A growing need steadily encroached upon her dreams until she became aware of herself writhing, desperately seeking friction and satisfaction.

Something hot, wet, and soothing wrapped around her nipple, while firm pressure settled between her legs, right where she craved it. The sensation was overwhelming, urging her to grind her pelvis against it.

Yet, it wasn't enough. The need swelled larger and larger, always just out of reach.

Frustration built within her as she arched her back and groaned, feeling ready to shatter. Suddenly, the teasing heat on her breasts vanished, and she found herself pinned down, her wrists held above her head.

Hot skin pressed against hers—heavy, safe. She felt the faintest touch along her neck and let out a moan.

"So perfect."

The words brushed against her throat, sending a shiver through her. A tongue slid up her neck, and she spasmed, writhing against the grip on her wrists.

Lips danced across one of the sensitive spots on her neck, while something slid between her legs, caressing her slowly. She opened her legs wider and lifted her hips, teetering on the edge of ecstasy.

So close. So close.

She could barely breathe with desire. A light touch glided over her delicate skin, igniting a fire within her that felt both intoxicating and consuming.

There was a hollowness inside her, as if it were devouring her from within. She sobbed, overwhelmed.

Then, a long finger slowly sank into her core, and she clenched around it as a broad thumb pressed lightly against her, stroking and teasing. She felt herself on the brink of shattering.

A second finger slid in, and she felt them gently rolling her over-sensitive nub between them. Just then, the mouth teasing along her neck closed over one of her sensitive spots and sucked hard.

She shook, and in that moment, she exploded, her whole body trembling with the intensity of her release. She spasmed and shuddered as she rode through the climax.

When the aftershocks finally subsided, the fingers that had held her withdrew, and the grip on her wrists vanished. Dazed, she opened her eyes and looked up at Draco Malfoy.

The intense need that had driven her was momentarily dulled, and she felt a sense of coherence as she gazed at him. Deep down, she had already known it was him; the vibrations of his voice were etched into her spine, and his comforting scent enveloped her like a warm cloak.

Yet, seeing him felt surreal, as if it defied some universal law. She studied his face, noting an expression she had never seen before—reverence.

"How—how are you here?" she asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion. She reached up to touch his cheek, needing to reassure herself that he wasn’t an illusion.

"I heard you crying," he said, studying her intently. "I was afraid you were hurt."

"Oh," she replied, feeling bewildered.

A part of her mind struggled to make sense of it all, but most of her was simply overwhelmed that he was there, that she wasn’t trapped alone in a state of unending misery. He seemed to be searching her face for something.

"Do you—" he began, his eyes flickering slightly. He clenched his jaw as if swallowing something bitter.

Just as he opened his mouth to start again, Hermione reached out and pulled him down on top of her. The sensation of his weight made her hum with satisfaction.

She breathed in against his skin, and he smelled like home. Nuzzling along his neck, she traced her tongue to the spot at the juncture of his shoulder where one of his scent glands was located.

She knew exactly where to find it. As she laved her tongue across it, he shuddered and gripped her tightly beneath him.

She sighed in response. "You're mine," he whispered into her ear.

It was a reminder—something he had already told her before. She could feel it, as if he had buried those words in her heart, and when he spoke them again, they unfurled like a golden snitch, fluttering in the air.

She pressed her lips against his shoulder, lying beneath him, savoring the sensation of being safe and warm. It didn’t seem possible to be close enough to him.

She pressed herself against his chest, wishing she could sink into him, imagining being nestled beneath his ribs, near his heart. As she lay there, crushed beneath his weight, feeling his hand glide through her hair and his breath against her neck, she experienced a profound sense of belonging.

It was as if she had finally found a place made just for her. The feeling unspooled a tension in the back of her mind that she hadn’t even realized was there.

But before she could fully embrace it, that sensation began to fade, as if she were a piece of parchment with a burning match held to her. Slowly, she began to feel the heat creeping in, prickling across her skin and robbing her of the peace she had found.

She shifted and jerked slightly, trying to ignore it, fighting to control it, to tamp it down. But it kept growing, and she hated it.

She was getting too hot. Her neck, her lower abdomen, her wrists—everything felt overly sensitive.

Trying to remain still and endure it felt harrowing. She needed relief.

A cold shower. If she could just get cold enough, maybe the pieces in her mind would rearrange themselves.

She was sure there were things she was overlooking, and a shower might help her find a solution. There was something off that she couldn’t quite place.

She pushed against Malfoy, trying to climb away, but he shifted just enough to keep her close. "Shower," she said, her throat dry and rasping.

"I need to cool down—too hot. Fever." A strong arm wrapped around her, holding her steady.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. A corner of her mind was chanting something, but she couldn't grasp it.

She was so thirsty, so hot. Everything felt overwhelmingly warm, and her body was growing restless with an urgent need for relief.

Somewhere deep down, she knew what was happening, but the fever had burned that knowledge away. "I need—" she tried to explain, but her voice trailed off.

She felt lost. It was as if her mind was a charred building, filled with remnants of thoughts she couldn't identify.

As she sat there, struggling to articulate her feelings, the loss of control sent her spiraling into hysteria. What was she supposed to hold onto when the entire world felt like it was on fire?

She panted, trying to get up again. A cold shower.

Surely that would help. But Malfoy wouldn’t let her leave the bed.

He wrapped another arm around her and pulled her into his lap. "I'll take care of you," he murmured, nuzzling against her neck.

The vibrations of his voice resonated within her, bringing a moment of stillness. "It's so—" she tried again to convey what was happening, but it felt like a struggle to breathe.

Even her lungs felt like they were on fire. Why was it so hot?

Panic surged as she began to breathe rapidly, trapped between instinct and reason. She sensed that she had the answers, that she knew what she was supposed to do.

But caught in this inferno, she couldn't remember. Helplessness washed over her, and she bit her lip, tears spilling down her cheeks.

Suddenly, she found herself lying on her back on the bed. Malfoy was kneeling over her, one hand pinning her wrists while the other slowly glided along her body.

Distantly, she realized they were both naked. The sensation of his hand tracing over her sternum and along her stomach felt more urgent than any fabric.

She arched into his soothing touch, and Malfoy kissed her. Oh… His lips were gentle against hers, his hand cradling her.

She felt her tense body melt under his touch. The heat coiled and slipped away from her skin, pooling in her lower abdomen, overflowing with a warmth that was almost overwhelming.

Warm liquid began to slip between her legs. Malfoy deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue along her lips before delving in and caressing her tongue.

Hermione moaned against his lips, twisting her body to press herself closer to him. He pulled away slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he looked at her.

"I'm going to take care of you," he said in a low voice. A whimper escaped her as she arched her head back, exposing her neck where a throbbing pulse began to build.

If she showed him, he would fix it. "Good girl," he murmured, dipping his head to breathe along her skin.

The sensation of air against her sensitive spot made her tense, and another wave of heat surged within her. She keened, pressing herself against him.

She felt his hand leave her breast, moving down between her legs. His fingers slid through the warmth, igniting an unbearable need.

The moment he touched her, her vision blurred, and pleasure coursed through her body, tearing a deep moan from her lips. "Merlin, Granger, you're so ready," Malfoy said, his voice thick with desire.

"You're so perfect." 

Hermione felt herself slipping into instinct, the chant in the back of her mind growing louder. Alpha.

Alpha. Alpha.

Please. She spread her legs and arched her back further, inviting him in.

Malfoy released her wrists and moved between her legs. She gazed up at him in a daze, comforted by his presence.

His scent, weight, and strength felt as if he were made for her, just as she was made for him. As he stared at her, his expression turned predatory and possessive, thrilling something deep within her.

He ran his hand over her abdomen, caressing her hip before... sliding along her thigh.

Opening her. His eyes were fastened on her body as though he were drinking her in.

"You're mine. All of you," he said, his voice was deep and unyielding, as though it were grabbing hold of something inside of her.

She could feel the heat inside of her grow white-hot. He began caressing between her legs as he spoke, sliding his fingers through the slick flooding out of her until the hollowness in her lower abdomen grew almost agonizingly sharp.

But his touch calmed her and his fingers glided up toward where she needed him. Her skin could have been set on fire again but she'd stay perfectly still if he kept touching her and talking to her.

"You're always going to be mine. No one else will ever touch you as I do.

My perfect Omega. I will never let anyone hurt you again." Her whole body started trembling as she tried to wait, and he rested his warm hand over her pelvis.

"You're so patient. Such a good girl," Then he leaned forward and she felt something impossibly large prod between her legs, sliding into the heat.

She spread her legs further, trying to open. He pushed in and she could feel her body shifting to accommodate his.

He kept pressing in. Deeper.

And deeper. And deeper.

It shouldn't have been possible. She felt impossibly full; moulded around him until there was no room left but he still kept sliding in deeper As he continued pushing in, he leaned over her until his chest crushed hers.

He gathered her into his arms and kissed her deeply. "You're so perfect," he said, groaning.

"You have no idea—" He finally was buried to the hilt inside of her and she lay limp beneath him. Her mind felt as though it had ascended into a different plane.

There was just fullness, the most perfect sensation of fullness. His voice and scent everywhere as though he had planted his soul inside of her they were permanently entwined.

"This—this is so good," he said, as he started moving. "You have no idea—oh Merlin, Granger, you are so

"Hermione wanted to tell him something.

There were words she felt she should be saying, but they wouldn’t come. It was as if she had been dropped into a pool of pure magic, glowing like fairy light.

The sensation was otherworldly. Everything inside her was building, as though Malfoy was drawing her up into some kind of ascendance.

He lowered his head to her neck, his lips brushing against an aching spot as he quickened his pace. His powerful thrusts sent delicious waves of pleasure coursing through her, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling every deep stroke.

But then the rhythm changed, becoming shorter and shallower. She could feel him expanding inside her, and they were tied together in a way that made her twist in frustration.

She had been so close—so close to something transformative. She didn’t want to be teased; she needed more.

He pulsed within her, a sensation of warmth flooding her, and suddenly all the building pressure inside her contracted until she shattered. Waves of pleasure washed over her, arching and shaking her body, filling her vision with blinding white light.

There were no words to describe it, just an overwhelming sensation that pushed her beyond her limits. The pulsing continued, an explosion that lit up her mind.

It felt like dying and rebirth all at once, as if her magic and very soul were about to burst forth like a shock wave. She heard herself sobbing.

“You’re so perfect. So good.

My perfect, perfect girl. I’m always going to take care of you,” Malfoy murmured, as though the words were being pulled from deep within him.

She could feel the muscles in his chest and arms straining as he ground himself against her. “Perfect little Omega.

You’re mine.”

It was the most incredible experience of Hermione's life—supernatural."

though it defied the limits of the human body. Hermione had never experienced anything that affected her so completely.

It felt as if it wasn’t just a physical connection, but something mental, emotional, and even spiritual. She couldn't tell where she ended and Malfoy began; everything between them was instinctively synchronized, as if they bled into one another.

Malfoy slumped against her, kissing her softly as he cradled her head in his hands. They both panted, trying to recover from the intensity.

Then he rolled onto his back, bringing her with him, and arranged her on top of him. Her head nestled under his jaw, allowing her to breathe in his scent, to feel him against her.

She lay there for several minutes, her heart rate gradually slowing, still feeling the sensation of him deep inside her. As her mind began to clear, the fire and burning sensations faded, replaced by a delightful afterglow.

Malfoy's chest radiated warmth into her. Suddenly, a thought that had been lingering in the back of her mind surged to the forefront.

She lifted her head and stared dazedly into his face. "How are you here?" she asked, the question feeling strangely familiar, though everything else in her mind was blurred.

He had been with her for a long time; she could feel it, smell it. His touch was something she knew intimately.

"I heard you crying," he said, studying her carefully. "I was afraid you were hurt."

"Oh," she replied, resting her head against his chest and lightly tracing her fingers over his scent glands.

She could feel him pulse slightly inside her at her touch. "Have I asked you that question before?

It feels like I keep asking it and then forgetting."

He rested a hand lightly between her shoulder blades, and she arched slightly into it. "You ask me every time," he said.

"How many times is that?"

"I've lost count." His tone was apologetic. "Oh," she said, blushing and burying her face in his chest.

"You're more lucid now, though," he added after a moment. "Your heat is probably almost—"

"The first heat is always the hardest," he said.

"Your body doesn't know how to regulate all those hormones yet. You'll be more aware the next time it happens."

"Oh," she replied.

"I didn't know. I only found out a little before it started, so I didn’t really have a chance to read about it." She felt like there was more to say—important conversations that she and Malfoy needed to have.

There were significant realizations she had made about their situation that she felt she should be addressing. But Malfoy's mouth was captivating, and the way his voice resonated through her chest felt like being wrapped in crushed velvet.

The sensation of him still inside her brought a delirious happiness that filled her mind. He looked at her as if he belonged to her.

Instead of voicing her thoughts, she kissed him, and he gathered her close, kissing her back. He felt familiar under her hands, yet consciously, it felt like the first time they had kissed.

She slid her hands across his chest and into his hair, kissing him until her lungs were on the verge of bursting. When they finally broke apart, she stared at him, panting, and sighed.

"You smell like me," she said, surprised by her own words. Yet the thought made her happy, like a kneazle purring contentedly in the back of her mind.

His eyes glinted as he looked back at her. "You smell like me," he echoed.

"I know," she replied, feeling a surge of smugness as she melted against him, sighing happily. She had never felt so good physically; it was as if she had discovered a new level of bliss.

Her mind began to drift, and she lay there, basking in his warmth while he ran his hands over her. Eventually, he rolled her onto her side, caressing and kissing along her throat, sending ripples of pleasure coursing through her body down to her toes.

He was still scenting her when their bodies finally unlocked from one another, and she... She felt him slide out of her, and a wave of wistfulness washed over her.

But before she could linger on it, he pinned her beneath him, dragging his tongue down the inside of her wrists. “Oooh,” she shuddered, “that’s so good.”

For several minutes, she lay there, overwhelmed by his presence, until he finally drew back.

“You need to drink something,” he said, reaching for a goblet of pumpkin juice from a nearby table. He pulled her into his lap, positioning her so that she leaned back against his chest, as if he were her throne.

Gently, he placed the goblet in her right hand and began to run his fingers lightly up and down her left shoulder and arm while she drank. She realized he couldn't seem to stop touching her, keeping her as close as possible.

There was something oddly surreal about it, but Hermione couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was. It was simply… nice.

She didn’t want him to stop. The thought of him pulling away filled her with a sense of dread, as if something terrible would happen if he weren’t there.

After finishing two goblets of pumpkin juice, she rested her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as she dozed. His fingers slid along her sternum, and she felt their warmth seep into her bones.

Then the burning sensation returned. This time, it was less disorienting, stirring her from her happy daze as if the intensity had softened.

It felt like she was getting closer to breaking through the surface and reclaiming her thoughts. Malfoy seemed to sense her discomfort, for when she looked up at him, he was already gazing down at her with hooded eyes.

As their eyes locked, he slid a hand into her hair at the base of her neck and kissed her deeply. Then he pushed her down and pressed into her.

Her mind finally felt alert. The present was still a haze, but it had thinned enough for her to grasp what was happening—she was in heat.

The burning sensation that kept pulling at her was a part of it. Swallowing her was her heat, and Malfoy cooled it.

He calmed her, held her down, and drove into her until she came apart, then steadied her through the inferno. She lost count of how many times they had been together.

Each time, the heat diminished a bit. The rhythm slowed, and they both sensed they were nearing the end.

With each encounter, Hermione's mind felt clearer, free from the haze. She discovered a language between them that felt fundamental.

When he came inside her, promises and praise flowed from his lips—the same ones each time. He would give her anything.

He would never stop taking care of her. He told her how perfect she was, that she was his and would always be his.

Those words coiled inside her, blurring her thoughts with happiness and drawing out promises of her own. She told him he was perfect, that he took care of her so well.

She told him he was hers—her Alpha, her perfect Alpha. During their last encounter, she sensed it was truly the end.

Reality pressed through the fire and fog more clearly than before. As they lay panting and entwined, she looked up at him, and it suddenly struck her why it felt so surreal that he was there.

Because it was surreal. He was Draco Malfoy, and she was Hermione Granger; he had never liked her.

He hadn’t even considered her worthy of attending school with him. He thought her blood made her undeserving of a wand, of being a witch.

As that realization cut deep inside her, she felt the blood drain from her face as she stared at him. He was studying her intently and immediately seemed to see the shock in her expression.

A bitter smile ghosted across his face. She grasped for a way to express her bewilderment, trying to reconcile the recent past with the rest of it.

She was so tired, her mind slipping away with exhaustion. He was still knotted inside her, and she struggled to formulate the questions swirling in her head.

Hermione struggled with a question that had been nagging at her, one that didn’t seem to have a clear answer. “How were you there?” she kept asking, and his response always baffled her.

He claimed he was there because he had heard her crying and thought she was hurt. “Why—why would you care if I was hurt?” she finally managed to voice.

For a long moment, he simply stared at her, and she could feel her eyelids growing heavy. Despite her efforts to stay focused, her head eventually dropped onto his chest.

“I owed you,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “You testified for me.”

A heavy, fractured feeling settled in her chest.

She tucked her chin down and closed her eyes. “You protected Harry,” she whispered.

“You had every reason not to, but you refused to identify him. Of course I testified for you.”

“I didn’t protect you,” he replied.

“I never expected you to,” she said, her words coming out almost incoherently through her exhaustion. “And what could you have done anyway?

There was nothing you could have done to protect me.”

“I know,” he said, his voice sounding hollow. If he said anything more, Hermione didn’t hear it.

She slipped into a deep sleep against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent.