All You Want Episode 6 - Harry Potter

 Hermione Granger takes her first suppressant and steps into an experiment that will define her freedom. Under McGonagall’s cool supervision, Neville Longbottom returns to apologize and to test whether Alpha command can bend Hermione’s will. It does not. The potion steadies her mind, her fists prove faster than instinct, and the lesson leaves both of them changed. When Professor Vector reveals that Hermione’s Arithmancy partner was Draco Malfoy, and that he has asked to be reassigned, the cut bites deeper than she expects. In the Great Hall, eyes follow her, Alphas drift closer, and a polished Ravenclaw named Selwyn makes his intentions known while Draco looks away and sits with his own. By nightfall, Hermione must decide how to carry a scent that will not wash off, how to protect her future in a school that suddenly feels like a hunting ground, and how to face the boy who fed her fruit and called her his. 

Transcript

**Chapter 6: In a Sea of Lovers**

The suppressant potion was midnight blue and tasted like ash. It went down like ash too.

Hermione choked on it, coughing up clouds of smoke as if she were a small dragon. She felt as though she were suffocating.

When she finally managed to swallow it completely, she spent several minutes pounding her chest and wiping away the tears that had gathered in her eyes during her coughing fit. A faint tingling sensation spread across her neck and wrists, accompanied by a fuzzy buzzing in the back of her mind that gradually faded after a minute.

“Well,” she said wearily, “I can’t say it’s my favorite potion.”

Minerva looked sympathetic. “Should I call up Mr.

Longbottom, or would you like a few more minutes?”

“He can come up,” Hermione replied with a quick nod. She was anxious to see how the suppressant would work.

A minute later, Neville shuffled in awkwardly behind McGonagall. He looked profoundly penitent, like a kicked puppy—except for being extremely muscular and generally attractive.

“Hermione, I am so sorry,” Neville blurted the moment their eyes met. “I feel so badly—I don’t know how to make it up to you.”

He stood across the office, his voice filling the space and still vibrating through her, but it didn’t evoke the same physical reaction as before.

He rubbed his face, looking so distraught that Hermione feared he might break down. She felt terrible for him.

He’d probably been miserable all week while she had been preoccupied with Malfoy. “It’s alright, Neville,” Hermione said, offering him a small smile.

“I don’t think anyone could have been prepared for what happened.”

“It’s not alright. You said no, and I didn’t even listen,” he said, his shoulders slumping dejectedly.

“I’ve told Headmistress McGonagall that I should be—”

“...stripped of my Head Boy position, I wrote to my Gran and told her I intend to withdraw from Hogwarts.”

Hermione gasped. “Certainly not!” 

“You can’t withdraw.

Your behavior was hardly unusual for an Alpha around an Omega going into heat. There are a dozen other Alphas at Hogwarts; the same thing would probably have happened with any of them.

I know you. We were both quite blindsided by what happened.

I don’t hold you responsible at all.”

Neville looked unconvinced, so Hermione added, “Just promise never to lick me again without permission.”

“I swear, if I ever touch you without permission, I will withdraw from school and turn myself in at the DMLE,” he said firmly, his jaw set. Hermione cringed inwardly, recalling her own handling—no, treatment—of Malfoy.

“The whole issue of consent is really rather murky when it comes to Alphas and Omegas,” she muttered, her cheeks flushing pink. “Hopefully, now that I’m not newly presented, we won’t have any more issues.”

Neville took her comment personally, and his expression grew more distraught.

Hermione quickly changed the subject. “To be honest, part of the reason Headmistress McGonagall asked you to come to her office is that we want to see how the suppressant potion I’m on now will work around Alphas,” she said, shuffling her feet and eyeing him nervously.

“Would you mind getting a bit closer so we can see how it goes for both of us?”

Neville swallowed, his eyes widening. “Rest assured, Mr.

Longbottom, I will not let anything happen to Miss Granger,” McGonagall said, noticing Neville inching backward. “We need a controlled environment to determine how vulnerable she is, and you know her better than any other Alpha.” 

Neville paused, and Hermione could see the internal conflict in his expression as he glanced her way.

There was a deep longing in his eyes. After a moment, he gave a short nod and stepped slowly toward Hermione.

He had barely taken five steps when he suddenly froze, sniffing the air with a baffled expression. He shot a sharp glance at Hermione, blinking several times as his face slowly turned red.

“What?” Hermione asked, her voice tinged with nervousness. “What is it?” 

“Hermione—um, I’m not—” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck while avoiding her gaze, staring uncomfortably at the ceiling.

“Is there a reason you smell like Draco Malfoy?” His voice sounded strained, as if someone were choking him. Hermione felt her blood drain from her face.

It hadn’t even crossed her mind that other Alphas could smell Malfoy on her. “What do you mean?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch.

“Well, um, when Alphas present, their sense of smell gets a lot stronger,” Neville explained, flushing. “So we pick up on a lot of things that most people can’t detect, like… who’s sh—” He caught himself, glancing guiltily at McGonagall.

“Who’s dating whom. You smell like—well, you smell like—”

Both of them stared at each other, their faces growing steadily crimson.

“I don’t think I’ve ever smelled anybody quite so strongly,” Neville finally admitted, his voice thick. “Normally, I’d have to be a lot closer.” 

Suddenly, his eyes widened as the realization hit him.

“Was Malfoy with you during your… heat?” he growled, the sound sending a shiver down Hermione’s spine. She stood frozen, blinking at him for several seconds.

“Are all the Alphas going to be able to tell?” she finally asked in a small voice. Neville looked like he might faint from her indirect admission.

He swallowed hard, nodded faintly, and turned his gaze back to the ceiling. “Brilliant,” Hermione said, her tone undeniably shrill.

It felt as if a small frog were trapped in her throat. “This is just—bloody fantastic.”

A long pause hung in the air as Hermione glared down at her shoes.

Finally, McGonagall cleared her throat. “Mr.

Longbottom, do you mind stepping closer to Miss Granger?” she asked in a crisp voice. “We still need to see whether the suppressant works.” 

Neville nodded and exhaled heavily through his nose.

“Right. Sorry.

It’s just… the smell is a bit— it feels intrusive to get closer. Like trespassing.” 

Hermione fought the urge to bang her head against the wall.

Neville’s expression turned serious as he stepped closer to her, until he was less than two feet away. Taking a deep breath, Hermione was relieved to find that while Neville smelled nice, she was no longer overwhelmed by the immediate urge to be intimate with him.

There was now a filter between her mind and instincts, allowing her to maintain control and suppress any urges. “Mr.

Longbottom, Miss Granger?” McGonagall prompted. “It’s fine,” Hermione replied, sniffing the air between them.

“I can tell he’s an Alpha, but it’s not overwhelming like it was before.”

“Mr. Longbottom, how is it for you?

Do you feel as though your instincts are overriding your mind?” 

Neville shook his head. “I can tell she’s an Omega.

The attraction is there, but I’m not irrational about it,” he said carefully. “Well, it’s a relief that the suppressant seems to work well,” McGonagall noted.

“However, part of our concern is regarding Alphas who might intentionally try to take advantage of Miss Granger. Mr.

Longbottom, if you would, please use an Alpha tone to ask Miss Granger to do something. Perhaps request that she stand on one foot.”

A visible discomfort crossed Neville’s face, and he stepped back slightly.

“It’s alright, Neville,” Hermione said, lifting her chin to project confidence. “Do whatever the Headmistress says.

I’d really rather know now than find out alone in a hallway.” 

Neville nodded and took a deep breath. Hermione took a deep breath, and Neville's scent washed over her, clouding her thoughts.

“Are you ready?” he asked, concern etched on his face as he looked down at her. She nodded quickly, offering a faint smile.

“Ready.”

“Hermione,” he said, his voice low and growly. The sound sent a shiver through her body, making her neck tingle as if he were caressing her scent glands.

“Stand on one foot.”

Automatically, she began shifting her weight to lift one foot off the ground but paused, shaking her head slightly. Why did she need to stand on one foot?

A part of her mind whispered, Your Alpha wants you to. Hermione scrunched her face in confusion.

Neville wasn’t her Alpha; he was her friend. He wouldn’t order her around, and she certainly didn’t want anyone bossing her about.

“No,” she replied flatly, widening her stance to distribute her weight more evenly. “Try again, Mr.

Longbottom. We need to be sure she can really resist,” McGonagall's distant voice chimed in.

There was a moment of silence before Neville spoke again. “Hermione, stand on one foot.” His tone was firmer, deeper—authoritative, powerful, and undeniably attractive.

A small part of her wished he would growl it against her throat. The fog in her mind thickened, filled with Neville’s scent.

She felt as if she were adrift in a sea of him, floating along with the current of his voice. It was soothing.

She didn’t need to think; she could simply obey. Obey?

Anger flared within her. How dare he try to make her submit?

“No!” she exclaimed, irritation rising in her voice. “Mr.

Longbottom, touch her on the wrist this time,” McGonagall instructed. Hermione barely registered the words; the room seemed to swim around her, with Neville standing out clearly in front of her.

His expression was tense and conflicted, and she couldn’t help but notice how attractive and strong he looked—Alpha. Alpha.

Alpha, echoed in a corner of her mind. As Neville stepped closer, she felt the heat radiating from him, his large presence overwhelming her senses.

His hand closed around her left wrist, his thumb brushing against the scent gland there. Hermione felt her knees buckle slightly.

“Hermione, stand on one foot,” he commanded, his tone sending a shiver straight down her spine. She struggled to breathe through the fog enveloping her mind.

Alpha. Alpha.

Alpha. Part of her wanted to tilt her head back, to invite him to touch her neck, to bite her.

Mmmmm, that would be so nice. Just the thought of his teeth, his hard body against hers, made her pulse quicken.

He would take her well, maybe against a wall, sliding deep inside her until she felt him knot. She imagined the warmth of his release filling her, and all she needed to do was please him.

Be a good girl, and her Alpha would let her come... But Neville was not her Alpha!

A part of her mind screamed it, shattering the haze. Instinctively, she lashed out.

Everything blurred for a moment, and when her vision cleared, she found Neville on the floor, bleeding and unconscious, her wand gripped tightly in her hand. “Oh my gosh, Neville!” she gasped, rushing to his side.

“What did I do?” Minerva was kneeling beside him, murmuring a quiet “Rennervate.” 

“You stunned him,” the Headmistress said, looking surprisingly pleased, “and punched him simultaneously.” Hermione noticed her knuckles throbbing slightly as Neville shook his head and sat up, gingerly touching his nose. “I’m so sorry,” she said, dropping to the floor beside him.

“Oh Neville, I’m so, so sorry.”

“S’alright, Hermione,” he mumbled. “Glad to help you out.

It’s good to know no one’s going to force you into anything.” 

Without thinking, Hermione hugged him impulsively. “You’re such a good friend,” she said.

“I’m really sorry I punched you.”

But Neville stiffened in her arms. She drew back, concern etched on her face.

“Are you—” 

He flushed, and she could see the uncertainty in his eyes. “Um.

Well, instinctively—everything is under control,” he replied, trying to regain composure. “But you’re still—it's very hard to be this close to you,” Neville stammered.

“Oh!” Hermione quickly released him. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Neville replied, still blushing.

“It’s not as though I mind. I just thought you should know.”

“Yeah,” Hermione said, awkwardly pulling back a bit more.

“That’s good to know.”

“Well, Mr. Longbottom, thank you for your assistance.

You may return to your classes,” McGonagall said. Neville headed out, and Hermione gathered her new books, slipping them into a satchel that McGonagall had lent her, along with a box of small vials filled with midnight blue suppressant potions.

As she left the Headmistress’ office, Hermione’s first stop was Professor Vector’s classroom down the hall. Professor Vector had taken over as the new Head of Gryffindor, stepping in for Minerva.

The Arithmancy professor was a younger version of McGonagall, even stricter and more businesslike than her predecessor. “Miss Granger, I have your homework assignments from the last week,” Vector said, not bothering to rise from her large desk.

She reached into a drawer and pulled out a neatly collated file, handing it to Hermione. Hermione flicked the file open and skimmed over what she had missed.

“While you were—in confinement,” Vector began, looking a bit uncomfortable, “partners were assigned in Advanced Arithmancy Studies. The project is to analyze and then devise a counter-curse for an actual cursed object.

It will count for half of your grade this semester and is a collaborative assignment with the DADA class.”

Hermione nodded. She had always found curse-breaking exciting.

The idea of using Arithmancy to break down a curse and then predict a successful counter-curse was a fascinating application of magic. While she wasn’t sure she wanted to become an actual curse-breaker, she had always enjoyed reading about the analytical aspects of curse-breaking in Arithmancy journals.

“Your partner for the assignment was Draco Malfoy,” Vector continued. Hermione froze, staring at her professor.

“Was?” she finally managed to say. “Yes.

Mr. Malfoy…”

“Malfoy stopped by my office this morning and asked to be reassigned or to complete the project on his own.” Hermione felt herself pale.

Her head spun, as if she’d been stung by a billywig and was about to float up to the rafters. “Oh,” she managed to say.

“When the partners were assigned, I wasn’t aware that you were—” The word “Omega” seemed to stick in Professor Vector's throat, and she coughed slightly. “—what you are.

If the refusal to partner with you is related to that, I am willing to consider the request. However, the Headmistress has made it abundantly clear that she will not tolerate any interhouse animosity or blood prejudice.

Do you have any idea why he asked?”

“I’m not sure,” Hermione replied, taking a sharp, steadying breath. “I’ll try to find out before the next class.”

“Very well.

I don’t like making special exceptions for students; it distracts from learning. If I’m obliged to make one, we may need to disclose the reason to the class.

It would be inappropriate for your classmates to think certain students receive allowances based on discrimination.”

Hermione swallowed and nodded nervously. Professor Vector was a surprising Gryffindor, so absorbed in academics that she seemed completely tone-deaf when it came to interpersonal relationships.

While Hermione understood the logic, the veiled threat to expose her designation over a class assignment felt incredibly insensitive. “I’ll try to speak with Malfoy today,” Hermione said, clutching the file of homework assignments and standing up quickly.

“Thank you,” Professor Vector replied, glancing back down at a scroll of numbers spread out across her desk. Then her head popped back up as if a thought had just occurred to her.

“Please feel free to speak to me if you have any issues with your—” There was a long pause. “My office is always open in an emergency.”

“Yes, thank you,” Hermione said, privately resolving never to discuss anything related to being Omega with her Head of House.

Once back in the hallway, Hermione checked her watch and discovered…

It was lunchtime, and Hermione suddenly realized how famished she felt. She couldn't recall the last time she'd had a proper meal.

A hazy memory surfaced of lying in Malfoy's arms while he hand-fed her fruit. Strawberries, grapes, pears, plums, and nectarines floated through her mind.

She even remembered him teasingly feeding her with his teeth and mentioning something about never letting her have peaches. She had consumed a lot of pumpkin and apple juice during that time.

Malfoy had slid pieces of fruit over her skin, licking up the trails of juice, and whispering that she was perfect in a deep, possessive voice that sent shivers through her. He kept insisting that she was his.

Hermione nearly walked straight into a suit of armor as those thoughts flooded her mind. Ugh.

She didn't want to think about it—didn't want to think about Malfoy at all. With a surge of frustration, she stomped angrily toward the Great Hall.

As she pushed the doors open with force, a gust of wind followed her inside. The air rushed ahead, parting as she entered.

The hall was buzzing with students chatting and eating, but as Hermione stepped through the doors, every Alpha she'd identified froze, their eyes locking onto her as if caught in a trance. Her heart raced as her gaze flitted nervously from one boy to the next.

She noticed a Ravenclaw and a Hufflepuff near the end of the table, their expressions a mix of fascination and shock. Trying to ignore their stares, she hurried to the Gryffindor table.

Neville was already there and, like the others, turned to look at her as she arrived. After a moment, he slowly returned to his meal.

“Hermione,” Ginny said, scooching down the bench to make room for her. “Are you alright?

I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so short with you earlier.

I had no idea—I just thought—”

“It’s fine,” Hermione replied, trying to brush off the moment. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone could have guessed it,” Ginny said quietly, cutting Hermione off.

Hermione nodded as she served herself a massive helping of everything within reach. “If you want to talk at all, I’m here for you,” Ginny added softly.

“And I know Mum would be happy to come visit or write if you have any questions. It hasn’t been mentioned to anyone back home yet, but…” Ginny glanced around at the boys who were still staring unwaveringly at Hermione.

“You should probably let them know before the news gets out.”

“I should,” Hermione agreed, nodding. “You got a few letters and birthday presents from Harry and Ron last week.

I have them in my room,” Ginny mentioned after a moment. Despite her intention to focus solely on her meal, Hermione could still feel the stares directed at her.

Determined to ignore them, she refused to look up from her plate. Suddenly, the doors of the Great Hall swung open, and Hermione’s head shot up.

Malfoy had walked in. She watched as his eyes swept across the room, briefly landing on her.

Her heart seemed to stall for a moment as their gazes met, but then he flicked his attention away and strode over to the Slytherin table, sitting down beside Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott. Nott stared at Hermione with an expression of delighted awe, as if he had encountered a unicorn.

Zabini elbowed him, but Nott didn’t seem to notice. Malfoy started eating an apple, and Hermione forced herself to look back down at her plate.

As she finished her second pumpkin pasty, a tingling sensation traveled down her spine. She looked up and found a Ravenclaw with tawny-colored hair and skin standing across the table, staring intently at her.

His face had a faintly weathered look, as if he had spent his summer sailing in the Mediterranean. His gaze was sharp, almost feline.

All the Gryffindors around Hermione turned their attention to him as well. She recognized him vaguely; they were in the same year and had taken Arithmancy and Ancient Runes together.

However, they had never really interacted, at least not in a way she could recall. Hermione was fairly certain he came from an old pureblood family.

He hadn’t joined the D.A. or fought in the Battle of Hogwarts.

He was an Alpha, evident from his build, and his voice had nearly caused Hermione to have a meltdown in Ancient Runes whenever he asked questions. “Yes?” she said, noticing he was momentarily speechless.

“You’re Hermione Granger, aren’t you?” he asked, his tone formal. His hands gripped the strap of the satchel hanging from his shoulder.

The Gryffindors around Hermione erupted in laughter. “Been living under a rock the last few years, mate?” Seamus snickered.

The Ravenclaw flushed, a faint smile flashing across his face as he tightened his grip on the satchel. Hermione couldn’t help but think that if he were an Animagus, he’d be a cougar.

“We’ve never been introduced. It seemed impolite to presume,” he continued.

“Is someone introducing you now, Selwyn?” Neville growled, his voice low and rumbling. Hermione realized with a pang of horror that the air was slowly filling with Alpha pheromones.

She could distinctly identify the scents of Neville and Selwyn, and it was affecting everyone at the table, though Hermione suspected none of them knew why. Parvati and Ginny looked slightly glassy-eyed, while Seamus appeared as though he had stumbled into something he shouldn’t have.

Ginny shook her head sharply, as if awakening from a trance, and muttered an air-freshening charm. Surprisingly, Hermione felt unusually alert rather than overwhelmed by the scents.

Selwyn’s attention shifted slightly away from her and toward Neville. “Aren’t you marrying some Hufflepuff, Longbottom?” he asked.

“Hermione’s always been my friend,” Neville said, his expression calm and unruffled, but a determined gleam shone in his eyes. “I thought you had a rule against speaking to Muggle-borns.”

Selwyn's jaw clenched, and he rolled it slightly, the tendons in his neck rippling.

Hermione scolded herself for noticing. “I had strict instructions to stay neutral,” he replied stiffly.

Ginny snorted and tossed her head. “How very convenient for you.”

“I had family on both sides.

I didn’t want to be responsible for anyone dying.”

“Is this one bothering you, Granger?” Anthony Goldstein suddenly appeared beside Selwyn. Hermione gulped nervously and glanced around.

The Great Hall had quieted somewhat, and to her horror, she realized people were starting to stare. More Alphas seemed to be migrating toward her.

“I’m just going, actually,” Hermione blurted. She grabbed her satchel, jumped from her seat, and fled the Great Hall.