All You Want Episode 7 - Harry Potter

 Hermione Granger refuses to hide. With Alpha pheromones thick outside the Gryffindor portrait and rival suitors posturing in the halls, she charts a careful path to an abandoned classroom in the Turris Magnus to say what must be said to Draco Malfoy. The door stays open, the apology lands hard, and an Arithmancy partnership becomes a cold agreement to work apart so her secret is not exposed. In the library, impeccable notes from Peter Selwyn tempt her focus while Anthony Goldstein’s questions cut to the bone of consent, biology, and choice. All the while, the scent of Malfoy clings like a shield, keeping other Alphas at bay as house points plummet and tempers flare. By day’s end, Hermione chooses composure over instinct, scholarship over spectacle, and a lonely seat in the back of class while Draco looks away. 

Transcript

**Chapter 7: His World Will Go On Turning**

If Hermione could have hidden in the Gryffindor tower forever, everything might have seemed fine. Unfortunately, she had a week’s worth of homework to catch up on and a conversation with Malfoy to have.

McGonagall had sent a note with Ginny after lunch, informing Hermione that Malfoy did not regard himself as having been assaulted by her. Well, Hermione thought that was what the note said.

McGonagall was rather unhelpfully vague. “Miss Granger, I spoke with Mr.

Malfoy to ensure you have no cause for concern in regard to him.”

Hermione read the words ten times and felt that the Headmistress could have elaborated a bit more. Unlike the other Alphas in the Great Hall, Malfoy had looked distinctly unenthused by her presence.

She suspected that, despite McGonagall’s reassurance, she probably owed him an apology. Her chest felt tight as she glanced at the note again.

Then, she jutted out her jaw and squared her shoulders. She needed to speak to him about their Arithmancy partnership anyway; there was no point in avoiding it.

She gave herself an hour to review the assignments from her missed classes, then checked the Marauder’s Map that Harry had given her. With newfound determination, she stepped out of Gryffindor Tower.

The moment the portrait door opened, she was hit by a wave of Alpha pheromones. Three boys were standing just outside the door: Anthony, Selwyn—whose first name, according to the map, was Peter—and someone named Phineas Borgin, a Slytherin.

They were all awkwardly posed in the hallway, studying portraits and suits of armor, trying to appear as though they had some legitimate reason for being there. When they saw Hermione walk through the portrait hole, their pretenses vanished.

They turned and glared at one another resentfully. Hermione stared back at them, feeling irritated.

Three classmates, two of whom were Slytherins, stood in her way, and she wasn’t about to let them intimidate her. Outside the portrait hole, three boys waited for Hermione—boys who had never paid her any attention during their six years at school.

She kept a cautious distance, hoping to avoid any hints of Malfoy lingering on her. “Yes?” she said after a moment.

“I didn’t get to properly introduce myself earlier,” Peter Selwyn said, stepping forward. “I’m Peter Selwyn.

We take Advanced Ancient Runes together. I thought you might like to borrow my notes for the class you missed.

Professor Babbling covered quite a bit of material not included in the syllabus. I’m a bit obsessive about note-taking, so I have a full transcript along with my personal notes, if you’re interested.”

Hermione tilted her head, re-evaluating him.

Although she still found him generally annoying, she had to credit him for being prepared and knowing enough about her situation to offer a reasonable excuse. “That’s very considerate of you,” Hermione replied.

Anthony and Phineas exchanged annoyed glances at this exchange. “Not at all,” Peter said, a glint in his eye.

“I also have notes for Transfiguration and DADA. Although I know you have housemates in those classes, so you might have already gotten the notes.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

Any notes from Gryffindor would likely be nearly useless. She’d be lucky to get a general idea of what they had covered in class.

The glint in Peter’s eye suggested he was aware of that. “Funny, Selwyn.

I thought you had a rule against sharing your notes,” Anthony chimed in, his tone revealing his suspicion. “Sharing notes with someone who missed class is different from sharing them with someone who didn’t bother to take any when they were there,” Peter replied confidently.

“Really?” Anthony shot back, turning to his housemate. “So, when I was laid up with Black Cat Flu for a week and asked to borrow the transcripts, you said ‘no’…”

“I’m Phineas Borgin,” Phineas interjected, seizing the opportunity to introduce himself.

He was tall, embodying the typical traits of an Alpha. Phineas, broad-shouldered and muscular, had dark hair that looked almost oily, both in appearance and demeanor.

As he stepped toward Hermione, she instinctively took a step back to maintain her distance, eyeing him warily. “Does your father have a shop in Knockturn Alley?” she asked.

Phineas blinked, surprised. “Yes…” he replied slowly.

“We’re antiques dealers.”

“I’ve met your father,” Hermione said, a thin smile playing on her lips. “An old friend of Lucius Malfoy’s, I believe.

Does he still have his vanishing cabinet?”

At that, Phineas visibly tensed. “I couldn’t say,” he said in a tight voice.

“Please excuse me. I just remembered something I need to attend to.” He turned and hurried away.

Hermione glanced back at Peter and Anthony, who were still caught up in their rivalry. Anthony was in the midst of boasting about his heroism during the Battle of Hogwarts, clearly relishing every moment.

She rolled her eyes, realizing that her book had mentioned Alphas fighting over her during mating season, but she hadn’t anticipated that it would also lead to such ridiculous displays of dominance even when she wasn’t in heat. The two boys were so engrossed in their bickering that they seemed to have forgotten all about her, which conveniently solved her dilemma of how to slip away.

Sneaking off, Hermione checked the Marauder’s Map once more. Malfoy was still where he had been when she exited the portrait hole—alone in an abandoned classroom in the Turris Magnus.

Taking a roundabout route to avoid any encounters, she triple-checked the map to confirm Malfoy’s location before giving a sharp knock and opening the door. “Theo, I don’t want to talk about Granger again.

Bugger off,” Malfoy snarled from behind a stack of books as she peeked in. She blinked, taken aback.

Malfoy’s head shot up, and they locked eyes. Hermione felt her stomach do a somersault.

“Malfoy,” she said stiffly. “Granger,” he replied.

He replied with a faint nod, his expression closed and tinged with resentment. Hermione fidgeted with the door.

“I—I wanted to talk to you,” she stuttered nervously. “Obviously,” he replied.

Hermione stepped into the classroom and began to close the door behind her. “Don’t!” Malfoy barked suddenly.

She looked up at him sharply. “Don’t shut the door,” he said in a tight voice, his visible hand balled into a fist.

“Please.”

Hermione quickly released the doorknob, realizing he was likely worried that being in an enclosed space with her would make him forget their differences. Or maybe he thought she intended to confront him.

She flushed and bit her lower lip. “Sorry,” she said.

“It’s fine,” he replied, appearing to relax slightly. “No, I mean, that’s why I came to talk to you.

I’m sorry—I’m really sorry about what happened,” she rushed out. Merlin, Malfoy smelled incredible.

The scent was starting to fill the classroom, making it hard for her to think clearly. Malfoy’s expression hardened again.

“I wasn’t in my right mind,” she squeaked, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She noticed the resentment in his gaze growing.

He had actually been fairly nice to her after his trial, and on the Hogwarts Express, he’d almost acted as if they were friends. But that was clearly a thing of the past now.

Oh no, he probably just lied to McGonagall. He looked at her as if he held her personally responsible for ruining his life.

Hermione fidgeted more, battling the instinct to collapse into an apologetic heap on the floor. “I can’t even put into words how much I regret—,” she stumbled over her words.

“If I hadn’t been in heat—I would never—never ever have—,” but her voice faltered before she could finish. “...climbed on top of you and started giving you a handjob while you were clearly trying to leave.”

“Obviously,” Malfoy interjected flatly before she could finish.

“I’m well aware, Granger. We’ve been at school together for six years.”

“Okay, good,” she replied, feeling a wave of relief.

“I just—I know McGonagall spoke with you, but I was worried you might still—”

“Don’t worry,” Malfoy said, his voice cold and uninviting. “The Headmistress made it all quite clear.

If that’s all you came to talk about, I have homework to catch up on. I’m not interested in rehashing it yet again.” There was a hint of authority in his tone.

Despite her lingering sense of needing to apologize, Hermione felt a strong urge to leave him in peace, just as he clearly wanted. She was halfway through the door when she paused, shaking her head.

No, there were still things she needed to say. Ignoring the impulse to flee, she sidled back into the classroom.

Malfoy's expression shifted to that of a martyr as she re-entered. “I stopped by Professor Vector’s office earlier today,” she began.

His jaw tightened. “She said that we were partnered for the term’s joint project,” Hermione added.

“We were,” Malfoy emphasized, his tone heavy with the past tense. “She said she’s willing to accommodate the request that we not be partners,” Hermione continued.

Malfoy gave a short nod, his gaze fixed on the essay he was working on. “With the assumption that it’s related to my being an Omega.

But if she does, she’s going to inform the class about me. She doesn’t want any students thinking she’s accommodating blood prejudice.” 

Malfoy twitched slightly at her words.

“I haven’t had a chance to inform anyone yet—about being an Omega,” Hermione admitted, flushing as she stared down at her shoes. “I’d like more time to break the news to my friends and try to find some equilibrium before the whole school finds out.

So, if you don’t mind—” She glanced up, searching for his reaction. Hermione looked up and found Malfoy watching her, his expression unchanged.

She tried to make her offer more appealing. “We can work separately and exchange our work after class.

We don’t have to meet up, and I won’t sit anywhere near you.”

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, his voice slow and deliberate. “We’re going to be devising a numerical prediction to identify and remove a curse from an enchanted item, and you want us to do it separately and just exchange notes?”

Uncertain, Hermione glanced at him, taking in the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jawline.

It should be illegal for someone to be that attractive. She used to think he looked too pointy and inbred, but his presentation as an Alpha had softened those features.

She recalled how muscular he had become—almost obscenely so. Images flashed in her mind: the definition of his chest, the contours of his abdomen, the V shape of his pelvic muscles.

Suddenly, she felt her breath quicken. Shaking her head, she tried to regain her focus.

“Do you want me to just do it by myself and put your name on it?” she asked, her voice rising in pitch. “The assignment is half of our grade this term, Granger,” he growled.

It was unmistakably a growl, and Hermione felt her knees weaken slightly. She pressed them together, trying to steady herself.

“So—? Is that a yes or a no?”

“That’s a no, Granger.

I’m not having you do my homework for me.” His voice was cold, and his fist was clenched tightly, knuckles pale against his palm. “Oh.

Alright then. So—” Hermione started.

“We’ll work separately and then compare notes,” he said, a note of finality in his tone as he stared down at his essay, looking so angry that Hermione was surprised it didn’t ignite. “Thank you,” she replied, allowing herself a brief glance at him once more.

“I’ll, um—go then,” Malfoy said, looking visibly relieved. Hermione crab-walked out of the classroom and nearly collided with Blaise Zabini.

“Granger,” he greeted her. “Zabini,” she replied, narrowing her eyes as he seemed to size her up thoughtfully.

Did he know? She thought Malfoy might have told him.

“Malfoy and I were just discussing our Arithmancy project,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Of course,” he replied.

“You were sick last week, weren’t you?”

Hermione glanced around, attempting to appear composed. “Yes, all week.”

“Talk about bad luck, right around your nineteenth birthday, didn’t it?” 

She shot him a sharp look.

“I didn’t realize you knew my date of birth.”

“Well, you received a lot of garish packages in the post. Hard to miss,” Zabini said with a smirk.

“Drake seemed to have contracted some kind of illness too; he disappeared a few days after you did.” 

Hermione pressed her lips together, choosing silence. “I certainly hope it’s nothing that ruins him by hanging around,” he added after a moment.

Hermione's mouth twisted. “I’m sure you’ll find he’s still the same Malfoy,” she replied in a tight voice, then walked away quickly and buried herself in her homework.

It turned out that something the books neglected to mention was that Alphas didn’t get along very well when there was an unbound Omega around. There was an immediate spike in point losses and detentions starting the day Hermione first re-entered the Great Hall.

The infractions ranged from dueling in the halls to violating the student dress code. For the Alphas, the first order of business wasn’t courting Hermione; it was establishing a pecking order among themselves.

According to Ginny, who returned from rounds looking increasingly harried, the Alphas resorted to sniping at each other until it escalated into arguments that devolved into flying fists or hexes. McGonagall called...

Neville gathered all the Alphas into her office on the first evening for what he called “an orientation.” According to him, it mostly involved a lot of threats, but that hardly deterred them. It was as if they couldn't help themselves; they squabbled over anything and everything.

They argued during classes, in the hallways, at mealtimes, and even in the library. The points for all the houses dropped noticeably and rapidly over the course of just a few days.

They attempted to be subtle about it. Neville mentioned that McGonagall had pointedly reminded the boys that if their behavior got out of hand, Hermione might choose to withdraw from school.

So, they mostly kept their distance, admiring her from afar. They stared dreamily whenever she entered classrooms or the Great Hall.

A few even tried to approach her in the library, but it turned out that the scent of Malfoy had a significant dampening effect on their courage. Several boys who managed to summon up the nerve to speak to her stopped short, choked, and then awkwardly tried to ask why she smelled as if she’d been with Draco Malfoy.

Hermione simply smiled coldly and replied that she had. The revelation sent two boys retreating immediately.

In fact, Malfoy’s scent on Hermione kept most of the Alphas at a comfortable distance of about five feet, which made her almost wish it wouldn’t fade. Neville remained friendly, and Anthony and Peter, apparently spurred on by each other, pushed through their feelings of “trespassing” and invited themselves to join her whenever she was studying in the library.

Just two days after Hermione re-emerged from her heat, Peter found her tucked away, finishing an essay she had failed to turn in the week before. He had all his notes from the previous week’s classes in his satchel, and it turned out that Peter Selwyn’s notes were practically to die for.

Hermione had to restrain herself from gushing when she first saw his scrolls from Ancient Runes; the quality was exceptional. Peter’s meticulous penmanship caught Hermione's eye.

His notes were detailed, complete with cross-references. She felt a twinge of envy; she had never thought to charm a transcription quill like that.

“Well,” Peter said, a faint flush creeping across his cheeks as Hermione found herself gushing about his work. “Not being allowed to take sides made my social life pretty uneventful.

School was all there was to do.”

Hermione studied him carefully. She wasn’t sure if she would have been attracted to him under different circumstances, but whenever he was near, she found herself imagining a romantic life on a Greek island with him.

She blinked rapidly to dispel those thoughts. “Go ahead,” he said with a resigned smile, “ask.”

Hermione hesitated, weighing whether he was worth the effort to get to know better.

Finally, she asked, “Why were you neutral?”

Peter sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “My paternal grandparents died during the Global Wizarding War, and my father was adopted by his cousins, the Rosiers.”

“Oh,” Hermione replied, her curiosity piqued.

“Evan Rosier was like my father’s baby brother. When Alastor Moody killed him, the grief nearly shattered Evan’s parents.

My dad had married a Bones right out of school, which put my parents in a tough spot between both sides of the family. They managed to maintain their relationships by staying completely neutral.

After fourth year, I was told that if I didn’t want to be home-schooled, I had to avoid making any alliances that would pull me into the war.”

He rubbed his jaw awkwardly and looked away from her. “All that to say,” Anthony chimed in with a smirk as he dropped into the chair beside Hermione, “he's a coward who preferred to stand by and watch Muggles and Muggle-borns suffer rather than deal with awkward family dinners or the terrible fate of home education.”

Hermione picked up one of Peter’s scrolls of notes.

“But, Peter, your school notes are really impressive.”

Peter turned red and shot a glare at Anthony. “Yes, if only I were a hero like you.

Then I could be sleeping my way through the entire female population of the school.”

Anthony let out a snort, and the air around them suddenly filled with his pheromones. “I’m not sure what century you fell out of, Selwyn, but in the one I live in, witches make their own decisions about their sex lives.

I’m very respectful of a woman’s right to choose. They don’t need me to protect them from themselves.”

“Oh right, I’m sure they all feel tremendously respected by the way you pursue them until they have sex with you and then move on to the next girl,” Peter shot back, rolling his eyes as he snatched his notes away from Anthony.

“Are you implying that only men can enjoy casual sex, Selwyn?” Anthony asked, raising an eyebrow. Peter swallowed hard, glanced between Hermione and Anthony, then stood up abruptly and stalked away.

“I don’t understand why that wanker keeps hanging around you,” Anthony said, watching Peter’s retreating figure. “Then again, you and Malfoy… I’m still trying to wrap my mind around that.”

Hermione pursed her lips slightly and turned back to Peter’s notes from Ancient Runes.

“Peter’s very sweet. Besides, if I were to refuse to interact with any eighth-years who didn’t fight in the Battle of Hogwarts, that would be almost three-quarters of our year.

Aside from you, Padma, and Luna, pretty much all of Ravenclaw was neutral.”

“So you’re trying to be forgiving and move on from the past?” Anthony asked, twirling a quill between his fingers. The scent of his pheromones still hung heavily in the air.

He leaned back in his chair, tilting his head flirtatiously. He wasn’t wearing a tie, and several buttons on his shirt were undone, exposing the base of his neck where his scent glands were.

It was intentionally distracting for Hermione, not to mention... Hermione felt the weight of a dress-code violation hanging in the air.

She forced herself not to stare or lean in closer to catch his scent, even though he clearly hoped she would. “Trying,” she replied stiffly.

“This year was supposed to be all about school for me. I had my course load carefully balanced, but this,” she gestured toward her neck, “has derailed things pretty dramatically.

If Peter wants to lend me his notes, I’m not going to say ‘no.’ It’s not as though I have to soulbond with him now.”

Anthony laughed, and Hermione rolled her eyes, wishing he would leave. He had always made her uncomfortable.

His overly familiar demeanor with girls, both in the topics he brought up and the way he interacted, was unsettling. He tended to be handsy, always skirting the line of propriety.

She resolved that if he touched her at all, even the slightest contact, she would hex him. “So, the thing with Malfoy…” Anthony said, subtly sliding his right index finger into the center of his fisted left hand several times.

Hermione rolled her eyes again. “Was that like a being forgiving thing?

Or a heat-of-the-moment thing…?” 

Hermione felt her cheeks flush. “‘Heat of the moment’ pretty much captures it,” she said quietly, swallowing hard.

“Okay. That’s what I thought.

Because, I mean, Malfoy—so obviously it had to just be a heat—” Anthony’s voice suddenly trailed off, and his eyes widened as if he’d just had a revelation. He stared at her for several moments before blinking.

“Wait. You mean like, your actual heat?” 

Hermione looked at him in disbelief.

Sometimes she questioned how he had been sorted into Ravenclaw. She gave a faint nod.

“Oh my god. How did I not realize that sooner?” Anthony was still staring at her, his jaw slightly slack.

“You and Malfoy? For a week?

Wow. Well, that explains the smell.” 

Hermione managed a thin smile and wished once more that the conversation would end.

that he’d leave. She picked up her quill to finish working on her essay.

“So,” Anthony said, scooting slightly closer in his chair. Hermione shot him a glare, and he paused, scooting back an inch.

“That was okay with you? I know you testified for him, but—your heat—that’s…” He raised his eyebrows, trying to gauge her reaction.

Hermione looked over at him, curious about the reason behind his question. “The whole Omega thing just seems pretty weird and offensive to me.

No offense,” Anthony added, his expression semi-apologetic. “I mean, what kind of consent is it if the witch is in a situation where she’s basically in agony unless she has sex with someone?

And random men can essentially force her into a submissive headspace if they want to? That’s just…” He shuddered slightly, his expression furrowing.

Hermione felt her defensiveness fade. “I know,” she said, her chest aching with how bitterly she agreed.

“The more I read about it, the more horrified I become. It feels like some horrible evolutionary accident.

Like there’s this sex fiend in my brain trying to suffocate me. And as far as I can tell, there’s nothing I can do about it except keep choking down suppressants until I find someone I want to marry.

But even that doesn’t solve all the problems.”

Anthony gave her a sympathetic smile, which she returned. Maybe she had misjudged him.

He seemed to understand her feelings better than anyone else. “Obviously, I wouldn’t have chosen Malfoy,” she added.

“What happened was pretty much a weird coincidence. But he was actually really nice about it in the midst of everything.”

“And afterwards?” Anthony prodded.

Hermione’s expression tightened. “I noticed he doesn’t seem to come around at all like the other Alphas do.” She nodded toward the left, where Theodore Nott was vanishing down an aisle.

She bit her lip for a moment and glanced back at her essay. “Well,” she said quietly, “once all the hormones faded, he remembered…”

“He left pretty quickly after that,” Hermione said.

“Oh... That must be so awkward, especially with the rest of us interrogating you about it.” Anthony ducked his head until his ears were level with his shoulders, clapping a hand over his mouth to suppress a laugh.

Hermione shrugged, trying to project a nonchalance she didn’t truly feel. “It’s fine.

I just keep reminding myself that this is all based on biological imperatives.” She glanced at the time. “I’ve got to head to my Advanced Arithmancy class.”

“I’ll walk you,” Anthony said, springing up gallantly, then looking a bit bashful.

“If you want, of course. I mean, you’re perfectly capable of walking yourself to class.

You probably know a thousand more hexes than I do. But I can glower better.

And dock points,” he added with a cheeky smile. Hermione smiled back.

Anthony had improved dramatically with further acquaintance. She mentally recategorized him from “creep” to merely “weird.” He had the good sense not to offer his arm and kept a respectful distance.

As they walked together from the library to the Advanced Arithmancy class, he accompanied her all the way to the door. A few students were already seated when they entered, including Malfoy.

Malfoy glanced up briefly, then froze for a moment when he noticed Anthony standing beside Hermione. Anthony jutted his chin up and smirked before turning to leave.

Hermione surveyed the room. The seating arrangements seemed to have changed from previous weeks; students who hadn’t typically sat next to each other were now paired off, presumably with their project partners.

She hesitated for only a moment before heading to the back of the room and seating herself alone in a corner. Malfoy didn’t even glance up as she passed by.

Not that she’d been looking, because she most certainly hadn’t.