All You Want Episode 5 - Harry Potter

This chapter is a quiet, character-driven listen that sits with Hermione after her first heat. She wakes to find Draco gone, the scent that clings will not wash away, and a difficult conversation with Professor McGonagall follows about consent, possible consequences for Draco, daily suppressants from Slughorn, and how rare an unbound Omega at Hogwarts truly is, with Molly Weasley, Druella Rosier, and Cassandra Ollivander as historical touchpoints. Hermione weighs autonomy, pregnancy, and marriage against the pull of instinct, accepts staff support, and agrees to a supervised apology with Neville. A book titled Soulbound hints at the choices ahead. 

Transcript

**Chapter 5: It’s Only Curiosity**

When Hermione woke up, Malfoy was gone. Even before she opened her eyes, she could sense his absence.

The lingering scent of him in the room was fading, hours old. Logically, she knew she shouldn’t feel hurt, but she did.

Without opening her eyes, she rolled over and scolded herself. Did she really expect to wake up and find him still beside her?

That after a few days together, he’d suddenly disregard her blood status and they’d start dating simply because the sex had been incredible? She snorted and finally opened her eyes.

As she sat up and surveyed the room, flashes of memory began to surface—moments of him trying to escape her grasp, of him attempting to find someone else. A cold wave of horror washed over her as she recalled his struggle to fight against his instincts and stay away.

Then, she remembered climbing on top of him and starting to give him a handjob. Mortified, Hermione dropped back onto the bed and buried her face in her pillow.

After that, everything blurred into a haze of incoherent passion that she could only partially recall. They had both been swept up in the Alpha-Omega dynamic, exchanging words and promises that felt instinctual.

It felt like a punch to the gut. Malfoy likely regained his clarity the moment her heat ended, once the hormones and instincts she had stirred in him faded away.

The bitter smile that had crossed his face as the fog lifted from her mind stood out sharply in her memory. Hermione still struggled to wrap her mind around it all.

Hormones aside, she felt a wave of embarrassment wash over her. The worst part?

If it were to happen again, she wasn't sure she could have handled it any differently. Despite her initial resolve to endure her heat alone, she quickly realized that making that decision was one thing, but actually facing it was another matter entirely.

It had been awful, and she categorically classified it as such. of someone who had been tortured repeatedly by Bellatrix Lestrange.

Her body felt like it was on fire. Every inch of her was attuned and overly sensitive, anticipating something that wasn’t happening—and couldn’t happen.

Everything hurt: her skin, her clothes, the water, even the sheets. The state of arousal was unquenchable.

Every attempt to relieve it only intensified the frustrated, all-consuming need. The physical anguish was just part of the struggle; it was the mental aspect that nearly shattered her.

She wasn’t supposed to be alone. The isolation provoked a deep sense of wrongness within her, an instinctive awareness that she shouldn’t be enduring this by herself.

Someone was meant to be there with her, to help and soothe her. But no one was.

She was utterly alone. The relentless awareness of her solitude pushed her to the brink of hysteria.

She was hurting inside and out, and no one was coming to make it better. The pain just escalated, hour after hour.

In moments when she wasn’t crying, desperately trying to find some way to ease the all-encompassing misery, she longed to call for McGonagall and beg her to send someone. But who could she even think of?

She didn’t want to ruin Neville’s relationship with Hannah by dragging him into a week-long escapade. Goldstein?

She didn’t know. The thought of him felt wrong.

She didn’t want a stranger touching her, let alone being intimate with her; that idea made her shudder. Charlie Weasley was days away at a dragon reserve, and the thought of being with Ron's older brother felt inappropriate.

Malfoy hadn’t even crossed her mind as an option—until he was there. Then he was all she wanted.

But he had tried to pull away. So she had climbed on top of him.

Oh God. She groaned and...

She buried her face in a pillow, overwhelmed by a flood of memories. He had seemed to enjoy it, at least in the moments she could recall.

Surely, if he had wanted to leave, he could have done so sooner. It felt like he wanted to be there, touching her, breathing her in again and again.

He could barely keep his hands and mouth off her. Perhaps it was all driven by instincts and hormones—an Alpha thing.

In the few clear moments she remembered, he had appeared more composed than she was, but maybe that was just a contrast to her own state of utter confusion. After all, he had left as soon as it was over.

She glanced around the room, half-hoping to find a note or any sign that he hadn’t just run away the instant he could think straight. But there was nothing.

She dropped her head into her hands and sat there for several minutes, feeling so exhausted that she just wanted to collapse back into bed and sleep for another day. The thought of showing her face again was unbearable; the entire situation felt too humiliating and inappropriate to endure.

Yet, she felt an urgent need to escape the room. It was thick with the scent of sex and Malfoy’s lingering presence, making her long for him even more.

Being alone in the aftermath of her heat felt painfully vulnerable, as if a part of her was withering inside. She rubbed her wrists subconsciously, trying to soothe herself, then squared her shoulders and got up to head to the bathroom for a shower.

A hot shower was the closest thing to relief she had found before Malfoy had come along. The numbing cold water had dulled the heat, making her uncomfortable in a different way, allowing her to forget just how aroused and desperate she felt.

As she stepped under the scalding water, she scrubbed herself from head to toe until her skin turned rosy, trying to wash away Malfoy's scent. But when she stepped out and began to towel off, it was still there, as though he had left an imprint on her skin.

The memory of him lingered, etched into her very being. She stepped back under the rushing water, trying again and again to scrub it away, lathering herself with soap.

It dulled the scent a little, but it was still there, inescapable, and her skin felt almost raw. Whatever had marked her wasn’t washing off easily.

She attempted several freshening and scourgifying charms, but nothing seemed to work. Defeated, she finally dressed and made her way back into the bedroom.

The air was thick with Malfoy’s scent, hitting her like a slap in the face. She cast multiple cleaning charms over the room and the bed, but the sight of the stained sheets was mortifying.

In a hurry, she left the room. It was clear that Malfoy had dismantled nearly all the wards McGonagall had set up, and the wall bore the scars of his hasty exit.

She averted her gaze, forcing herself not to dwell on it as she headed straight for the Headmistress's office. "Miss Granger," McGonagall greeted her, studying Hermione closely.

"You seem more like yourself."

Hermione felt her cheeks flush. She could barely remember being overwhelmed with desire and emotion when McGonagall had been warding the door.

It was not her proudest moment; in fact, it ranked among the most humiliating experiences of her life. "Yes.

It’s over now," Hermione replied, staring down at her hands. There was a long pause before McGonagall spoke again.

"Mr. Malfoy—" she began cautiously, "disappeared for several days.

I noticed the wards on your room had been replaced. Since I didn’t send him, I assume he entered on his own."

Hermione looked up, her eyes wide, and found McGonagall’s expression unreadable.

She nodded slowly, and the Headmistress's demeanor tightened. "Given your history together, I cannot imagine you sought his company.

While the law may overlook the actions of an Alpha around an Omega in heat, I am not so inclined. If it was not...

"Consensual," Minerva said, "that is more than sufficient grounds for his expulsion." 

Hermione's heart sank. Attending Hogwarts was one of the conditions of Malfoy's probation.

If he was expelled, it would mean he had violated those terms, potentially landing him in Azkaban. "No!" Hermione exclaimed, sitting up straight.

"It was—consensual. I—I think..." Her gaze fell to the floor as heat rose in her cheeks.

"I hope you aren't feeling obliged to protect him for some reason," Minerva said, her eyebrows furrowing in concern. "No, it’s not like that," Hermione stumbled over her words.

"He—he offered to get someone else. I wanted him to stay.

In fact—" Her voice faltered, and she cleared her throat. "I rather jumped him.

I'm not sure... I know that legally speaking, Alphas aren't regarded as responsible for their actions.

But—I'm not sure how it works with Omegas. I might have—" She stuttered slightly, nearly toppling from her chair as a horrifying thought struck her.

"I think—I forced him. Oh god!"

Minerva raised an eyebrow.

"I find that rather hard to believe," she said calmly. "No, I think I did," Hermione replied, trembling.

"I can't remember everything clearly. I wasn't entirely lucid, but I think he was trying to leave.

Then I climbed on top of him and forced him to stay." She shrank further into her seat, the horror washing over her. "I should go apologize.

No—he probably won't want anything to do with me. Oh my god, I sexually assaulted Malfoy!"

Hermione covered her face with her hands, wishing someone would stun her and put her out of her misery for a while.

"Perhaps it would be advisable if I met with him and asked for his version of events," Minerva suggested after a moment. "However, Miss Granger, before you punish yourself over your self-confessed actions, please remember that I personally devised an extremely intricate set of protective wards around your..."

the ability to bear children.

It’s also about the bond and connection that comes with it. Some Alphas may see you as a potential partner, someone to share their lives with, beyond just having children."

Hermione's mind raced as she processed this information.

"But I don't want to be anyone's property," she said, a hint of defiance in her voice. Minerva nodded, her expression serious.

"I understand that, Hermione. It’s important to remember that not all Alphas are the same, and not all will view you through that lens.

Your worth is not defined by your designation."

Hermione took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising anxiety within her. "So, what do I do?

How do I handle this attention?"

"We’ll navigate it together," Minerva reassured her. "For now, focus on your studies and your friends.

If any situation arises, we’ll address it then."

"But what if they approach me? What if they assume I'm interested?" Hermione asked, her voice tinged with worry.

"Then you assert your boundaries," Minerva said firmly. "You have every right to choose who you want in your life.

Remember, being an Omega doesn’t diminish your strength or your agency."

Hermione nodded slowly, feeling a mixture of gratitude and apprehension. "Thank you, Professor.

It helps to know I’m not alone in this."

"Of course, you’re never alone," Minerva replied, a warm smile breaking through her earlier seriousness. "Now, let’s discuss your studies and how we can keep your focus on what truly matters."

"Merely submission and procreation.

Did you finish the book I left with you?"

Hermione shook her head, her cheeks flushing. "No, sorry.

It became difficult to focus."

Minerva's expression softened. "Of course.

This has all been quite sudden. That's why I want to do everything in my power to protect you as you come to terms with what has happened.

I hope to provide you with as many options as I can."

"Thank you."

"Now, as I mentioned, you're likely to receive a lot of attention. I assume you won't want to withdraw from school if you can avoid it."

Hermione nodded.

"The girls' tower in Gryffindor should be safe for me. But in common areas and hallways, anyone can approach.

I’m concerned that some eager Alphas might take advantage of my Omega traits to get my attention."

Hermione felt a chill run down her spine. "The suppressants potions help, though, don't they?"

"I believe they do.

I've had Horace brew a batch. You'll need to take a vial daily.

However, it won’t suppress your traits entirely. I've discussed it with Miss Weasley; we could assign Beta prefects to accompany you between classes if you would like."

Hermione stared in disbelief.

"Surely that’s a bit excessive, isn’t it?"

"I have to admit, I don’t know. As far as I am aware, a presented Omega has never attended Hogwarts.

Alphas do come occasionally. With an eighth-year class, I anticipated having a dozen or so.

But you are the first presented Omega to attend Hogwarts, and you're unbound. I just don't know what to expect.

I don't want to be careless with you."

"Omegas are that rare?"

Minerva gave a short nod. "You're the only unmarried one to present in as long as I can recall.

Beyond that, you're the first Omega I've known of since Molly Weasley."

Hermione choked in surprise. "I didn’t realize they were that unusual."

"Before Molly, the only other Omegas I knew were Druella Rosier and a friend of my mother’s, Cassandra Ollivander.

There’s a reason why most people..."

"Simply choose to ignore the hierarchy's existence. It's rare that the topic even comes up.

There are probably fewer than two hundred Omegas in all of Europe. Any unmarried Alpha who hears about you might try to court you.

You could end up inundated with offers."

"They won't know anything about me, but they'll want to marry me just because I'm an Omega? I feel like a collectible," Hermione replied, her tone sharp and her lip curling.

"Molly's decision to have seven children to avoid Alphas makes more sense now."

"Molly chose Arthur because she loved him," Minerva said, her voice tinged with a hint of exasperation. "She was betrothed to an Alpha but fell for Arthur when they were Head Students together here at Hogwarts.

I wouldn’t advise making her choice unless the Beta you have in mind is someone you can't live without."

Hermione dropped her gaze and slumped in her chair. "Why?

I don’t understand how any of this works. I feel like I’ve been turned into some servile degenerate, teetering on the edge of losing my mind whenever an Alpha so much as breathes in my direction.

But now you’re saying I should be in that kind of relationship?"

Minerva sighed. "Omegas are meant for Alphas, and Alphas are meant for Omegas.

Despite the dynamics of dominance and submission, the relationship is symbiotic. An Alpha might have influence over you, but they also have an instinctive desire to protect and please you."

Hermione's mouth twitched, and she held back the urge to point out that she would much prefer the autonomy to protect and please herself.

She swallowed her words. It wasn't Minerva's fault that she had the unenviable task of explaining this to her.

Hermione wouldn't shoot the messenger when it was clear the universe itself was to blame for her designation. "The equation doesn’t leave you powerless," Minerva continued firmly.

"Without the other party, there will always be a sense that something is missing. Most Alphas come to terms with that fate by the time they present, which is why they will be eager to try to..."

“...you an opportunity that most of them never expected to have.

You'll be going into heat again in three months. Use this time to get to know some of the Alphas in your circles.”

Hermione felt her stomach drop at the thought of experiencing another heat.

The memory of her time with Malfoy lingered, sharp and raw—intimate yet vulnerable. For a moment, she had felt happy, as if being an Omega was perfectly acceptable.

But waking up afterward to realize it had all been a hormone-induced illusion hurt in a way she couldn’t quite name. She had never been the type for casual encounters.

Her brief fling with Malfoy only reinforced that belief. The idea of being left behind and discarded as soon as the hormonal cocktail wore off was unbearable.

Yet, the thought of marrying someone—or soulbonding with them—just to have a companion during her heats felt equally unappealing. She longed for a union grounded in something unique and meaningful, not merely a hierarchical connection.

Perhaps she was just young, but she had always hoped that if she ever married, it would be with someone she could truly connect with, not just someone capable of fulfilling her biological needs. It felt as if she were trapped in a three-month countdown to hell.

“I can’t believe I’m actually saying this,” she said slowly, “but could I just get pregnant? Like Molly did?

That would stop the heats and the symptoms for a while, wouldn’t it?”

McGonagall stared at Hermione, her expression unreadable. After a moment, she replied, “Now that you mention it, I don’t think it’s possible for you to get pregnant with a Beta male.

Your fertility is tied to your heats. You could get pregnant during your next heat, but I doubt most Alphas would consent if you weren’t planning to marry them.

They can be quite possessive, especially when Omegas are pregnant.”

"Their instincts are stronger," McGonagall explained. "Oh," Hermione replied, her voice heavy with resignation.

She hadn’t wanted to think about pregnancy or motherhood at all, but the realization that it wasn’t even an option felt deeply unfair. It seemed that every potential choice she had was one she didn’t want to consider.

Burying her face in her hands, she searched for another solution. "I realize this is very abrupt and difficult for you," McGonagall said gently.

"You should give yourself time to adapt before making a life-changing decision like motherhood. There are wonderful Alphas out there who will give you all the time you need to build trust.

Whether a dominant personality is good or bad depends entirely on the individual’s character."

"It's not like I have any other choice," Hermione said bitterly. "I will do everything I can to keep you safe and help you decide what you truly want," Minerva reassured her.

"In addition to being one of my most exceptional students, I have come to regard you as a friend, Miss Granger. Whatever you decide, you will have my full support, along with that of the rest of the Hogwarts staff."

Hermione smiled, feeling a flicker of comfort.

"Perhaps we could see how the suppressants work," she suggested, trying to hold on to some hope. "Before we add a new rotation to the prefects' schedules."

"Very well.

The portraits have all been instructed to keep a close eye on you. I've informed the professors and the beta prefects from Dumbledore's Army so they will know what to look out for."

"Alright," Hermione said quietly, her cheeks flushing and the tips of her ears growing warm at the thought of many of her friends knowing why she had disappeared for a week.

"During the last week, I ordered a few books for you," Minerva said, sliding a small stack across her desk to Hermione. "Hogwarts' selection on the subject was limited."

"Thank you," Hermione replied gratefully.

"I'll escort you to the Hospital Wing to pick up your suppressants. Then I'll have a word with Mr.

Malfoy on your behalf. Speaking of Alphas, if you are willing..."

"I believe Mr.

Longbottom wants to apologize to you. He’s horrified by his behavior and even tried to turn in his Head Boy badge."

"It wasn't Neville's fault," Hermione interjected immediately.

"I'm happy to see him. But—" She hesitated for a moment.

"Maybe it should be supervised. Just to see how the suppressants work."

"Good idea.

Why don’t you wait here? I'll send for him and bring the suppressants.

It might not be wise for you to walk the halls alone."

Hermione nodded as Minerva left the room. She glanced at the stack of books on her desk, scanning the titles.

One was about Alphas, another focused on heats and Omega pregnancies, and the last one caught her eye—it was called *Soulbound*. She pulled it from the stack and began to read it, feeling a sense of resignation wash over her.

The book was disheartening and offered little help. It suggested that an Omega running around unbonded was practically unheard of.

The author seemed to assume that if an Omega wasn’t bonded, she was on the verge of being so, merely dealing with an unavoidable separation. There was nothing about how a witch was expected to navigate the world without an Alpha "responsible" for her.

Suppressants were meant for those in separation or for widowed Omegas. There was no mention of taking them while choosing an Alpha to marry.

Marry. Just the thought made her feel like crying.

In fact, there weren’t many things in her life that didn’t bring her to the brink of tears. Most of her sorrow seemed to revolve around Malfoy.

The fact that his absence still affected her the most only added to her misery. She didn’t even like Malfoy!

She had reminded herself of that fact quite firmly and repeatedly. He was a historic arse, a school bully, and a brainwashed pureblood elitist.

Even if the other two points were irrelevant or no longer the case, that last one stuck with her. She had no reason to believe that particular belief of his had truly changed.

It was true that during his trial, he had delivered a very eloquent speech about realizing the error in his thinking regarding blood purity, but it had been just that—a speech. A public speech before the Wizengamot that was printed in the papers.

The following morning, Hermione read the newspaper. Since his release, Draco had been stiff but polite at public events.

Once the school year began, she had to avoid him, so she had no idea what he was up to, other than staying out of trouble. As far as she knew, nothing in his private life suggested any real change in his views on blood purity.

He would surely keep his opinions to himself and maintain a clean image, but in the end, he would marry someone with impeccable bloodlines. Hermione didn’t care.

Being a bigot didn’t mean someone deserved to rot in Azkaban for ten years. The Malfoys, for all their flaws, had tipped the war in Harry’s favor.

Narcissa had acted out of concern for her son, but Draco, when it mattered most, had gone against his own self-interest. He’d protected Harry and refrained from killing Dumbledore when he easily could have.

That was enough for her. She had taken a Draught of Peace and testified for both Narcissa and Draco.

She hadn’t expected to interact with him after the trial, nor did she anticipate noticing him during their eighth year. And she definitely never imagined spending a week with him, only to find herself—well, she wasn’t sure what she was doing.

Obsessing about him, she concluded with resignation. It wasn’t a crush; he had just surprised her.

He had shown up when she was vulnerable and had been... a perfect Alpha, her mind supplied unhelpfully.

It meant nothing. It wasn’t even the real Draco.

He had just been in some sort of Alpha state. As McGonagall had said, Alphas had an instinctive drive to please.

He had come around because he felt he owed her, and then he had stayed because she had initiated things. It wasn’t anything he had meant.

The fact that she felt attached to him was probably just an Omega thing. It was all instinct and hormones.

Was it real?