All You Want Episode 8 - Harry Potter

 Hermione thinks suppressants will steady her life at post-war Hogwarts. Instead the halls churn with Alpha rivalry, detentions, and duels, while Theodore Nott keeps a thoughtful distance and Draco Malfoy refuses to be drawn into the pack. After curfew, a chance encounter on patrol turns from polite escort to coercion as Alpha command tightens around Hermione like a trap. Pinned and slipping into subspace, she fights the fog until fury breaks the corridor and the one boy who would not be provoked finally is. What follows is a rescue, a reckoning, and a heartbeat-close moment that tests consent, agency, and a bond neither is ready to name. 

Transcript

**Chapter 8: So Let Me Go, Let Me Go**

Being an Omega turned out to be not as terrible as Hermione had first feared. Sure, the suppressants were uncomfortable, but aside from some dazed looks and a few overly attentive boys, life seemed to carry on fairly well.

She sent letters to Ron and Harry, and while she wasn’t shocked by the silence that followed, she couldn’t help but wonder if Harry even understood what it meant to be an Omega. As for Ron—well, that was an unceremonious end to a relationship that might have been.

Toward the end of her first week on suppressants, Phineas Borgin attempted to use an Alpha tone to drag her into an alcove after potions. Hermione didn’t hesitate; she hexed him fiercely and stunned him.

The result? Six months of detention from McGonagall, and the word "LECHER" appeared in weeping boils across Phineas’s face—boils that Madam Pomfrey seemed less than eager to heal.

Hermione suspected she hadn’t put in her full effort. After her experience with Marietta Edgecombe, she knew that a forehead could easily be hidden behind bangs, so Phineas’s boils were strategically placed across his cheeks and nose instead.

Even a week later, the Alphas were still bickering constantly. It was as if they couldn’t help themselves.

Even Neville, who usually avoided confrontation, occasionally got caught up in the chaos. The day after Phineas tried to grab Hermione, Neville pummeled him in a hallway.

Then, during a study period, he and Anthony Goldstein ended up in a duel that left Anthony with a comically large pair of moose antlers for four days. It seemed everyone was fighting.

Within three days of his attack on Hermione, Phineas Borgin had been thoroughly knocked down to the bottom of the Alpha hierarchy. He slinked through the school like a defeated mongrel.

Surprisingly, Neville fought the least, closely followed by Theodore Nott. This was an intriguing development, especially since Theodore was one of the few Alphas who hadn’t yet approached Hermione.

In fact, Theodore Nott was, generally speaking... Hermione found herself puzzled by Nott, who seemed like something of a dark horse in the mix.

He was an exceptional duelist—sneaky and creative, but not in a malicious way. During a practice duel in Defense Against the Dark Arts, he and Neville ended up in the hospital ward for the night, both refusing to call it a draw.

Yet, Nott never approached her directly. Instead, he existed in a kind of orbit around her.

Whenever their eyes met, he'd smile and give her a casual salute, occasionally waving, but he never loitered near the Gryffindor Tower portrait or outside her classes like the other boys did. She wondered if he was employing some sort of reverse psychology.

Anthony and Peter were positioned somewhere in the upper middle of the Alpha hierarchy. After two weeks, the physical confrontations began to subside as order was restored.

However, the bickering, snarking, and snarling among the Alphas continued unabated, regardless of the points they lost for it. Except for Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy somehow navigated through it all as if he didn’t care at all. He didn’t squabble or bicker, and he certainly never engaged in duels or fistfights.

In fact, the other Alphas seemed unable to provoke him into any sort of confrontation, despite their endless attempts. Malfoy merely sneered and condescendingly ignored them.

At first, Hermione thought it might be his Occlumency that allowed him to filter everything out. Then it struck her: Malfoy was at the top of the pecking order.

He had been with her, and all the other Alphas were waiting in line behind him. He had “claimed” her; she could still feel his presence lingering.

He was the only Alpha at Hogwarts with nothing to prove, which allowed him to stroll about, ignoring them all—and her. It made Hermione seethe.

It was downright insulting. How dare he treat her like that?

Not that she wanted his attention…

Hermione couldn’t help but feel the sting of rejection. She found herself constantly glancing at Nott, hurt that he rarely acknowledged her.

It turned out their Arithmancy project required them to work together more than she had anticipated. When they met in the library, he was distracted, tense, and clearly frustrated, as if he wanted to escape the entire time.

The moment they finished, he stalked away, leaving Hermione nearly reeling from the overwhelming scent he left behind. Desperate to rid herself of his lingering aroma, Hermione scrubbed her skin in the shower morning and night.

She realized that having his scent on her affected her more than she expected, even with the suppressants. None of the other Alphas had the same impact.

Neville, on the other hand, was a different story. She wasn’t sure if it was because they were such close friends or if their chemistry was just that intense, but whenever they were together for more than ten minutes, the world around them began to fade.

She found herself unconsciously inching closer to him, and it didn’t help that he often leaned toward her as well. Poor Hannah.

Hermione could occasionally see the betrayed look on the Hufflepuff girl’s face when she entered a room and Neville immediately turned to her, gazing at Hermione with a longing that was hard to miss. He would catch himself and quickly apologize to Hannah, but the moment lingered.

As for Peter and Anthony, they were more of a neutral presence in Hermione's life. She sometimes caught herself admiring their necks or getting lost in their voices, yet she could easily engage in a normal conversation without letting her thoughts drift to anything more intimate.

The other Alphas she interacted with varied in their effects on her, but Draco Malfoy was in a league of his own. His scent enveloped her like a constant cloud, making it nearly impossible to stop thinking about him.

More specifically, her mind would wander to the memories they shared, the thrill of his body against hers, the sensation of his tongue exploring her skin. the scent of magical creatures, its spine worn from years of use.

As she flipped through the pages, the memories of Draco flooded her mind—his presence, the way his scent enveloped her, and the way he made her feel completely alive and utterly frustrated all at once. Every time she was near him, she struggled to maintain her composure.

It was maddening how his very essence could leave her breathless, making it almost impossible to think clearly. The textbooks had described Omegas as having an insatiable appetite for intimacy, often soulbonding during their first heat, leading to a whirlwind of romantic encounters.

Yet here she was—no soulbond, no Alpha, and certainly no daily escapades. Just her, caught in a whirlwind of longing, all because of Draco.

She sighed, glancing around the library, grateful for the peace that had settled in. It was a welcome break from the chaos of her thoughts and the unwanted attention she had been receiving from other Alphas, who seemed to sense her vulnerability.

They had started to approach her, their competitive banter growing louder, making her retreat to the familiar comfort of Gryffindor common room more often. Tonight, however, she was determined to find some solace in her studies.

With the library nearly empty, she took her time, savoring the quiet as she searched for an additional reference for her Ancient Runes translation. There was something comforting about the stillness, allowing her to momentarily escape the turmoil of her feelings.

As she continued to browse the aisles, she came across a large book on magical creatures, its cover beckoning her with promises of knowledge. She couldn't help but smile; perhaps this would provide the distraction she so desperately needed.

After finding a book on curse breaking shelved in the wrong section, Hermione pulled it down and tucked herself into an abandoned corner of the library, completely immersing herself in its pages. When she finally looked up, a wave of horror washed over her.

Not only had she stayed past the library's closing time, but it was also curfew. She muttered a quiet curse, returned the book, and hurried out of the library.

Halfway back to Gryffindor Tower, Mrs. Norris suddenly appeared in front of her.

Hermione bit back another curse and quickly turned to flee down a nearby hallway. The last thing she wanted was to be dragged through the castle by Filch.

She had just caught up on all her classes and couldn’t afford any detentions. The angry cat trotted after her, yowling furiously.

Hermione quickened her pace. “Mrs.

Norris, my sweet, have you found someone?” she heard Filch calling from around the corner. She bolted around another corner, down several flights of stairs, and wound her way through a series of hallways.

Finally, it seemed she had escaped the unpleasant cat. Leaning against the wall, she chuckled quietly to herself.

Running around and hiding in Hogwarts reminded her of Harry and Ron. After a week of silence, she had received letters from both of them, each containing suspiciously similar paragraphs about how they were there for her and would support her in whatever choices she made.

Hermione was fairly certain Molly had dictated those words. They were planning to visit during Hogsmeade weekend, and she expected some honest conversations then.

She hoped that if Ron was feeling any explosive emotions, they would have simmered down by then. Straightening up, she looked around to see where she had ended up.

She realized she had gone all the way back down to the first floor and found herself at the far side of the castle. Scolding herself for not bringing the Marauder's Map, she continued on.

Just as she rounded a corner on the third floor, she ran into Nearly Headless Nick. “Why, hello, Miss Granger!” Nick said with noisy delight.

Hermione blanched and held a finger to her lips, shushing him. “What’s wrong?” he asked in a stage whisper.

Hermione blushed. “It’s curfew.

I’m not supposed to be out,” she admitted, hurrying down the hallway. “What?

You’re not a prefect? For some reason, I thought you were,” Nick said, following her, his voice rising to an almost painful volume.

“No,” Hermione replied quietly, waving her hands to urge him to lower his voice. “I’m not.

Please, keep it down. I don’t want Filch to find me.” 

Nick chuckled, and his laughter echoed off the walls.

“Quite understandable. Filch is rather unpleasant.

He never has time to exchange a few words with someone like me.” 

As they rounded a corner, they stumbled upon Anthony Goldstein and Pansy Parkinson on prefect patrol. Hermione sighed in resignation.

It was clearly not her night. “Well, Hermione, I never took you for a rule-breaker,” Anthony said, a gleeful expression on his face.

Hermione hadn’t seen him much since she’d been studying in the Gryffindor Common Room. Pansy snorted.

“Are we looking at the same person? The female third of the trio that got away with murder?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Well, I always attributed it to Harry and Ron’s bad influence,” Anthony said. Hermione shot him a look.

“I’m going to have to report you, Granger,” Pansy said, her tone smug as she looked down her nose at Hermione. Hermione nodded.

“Alright. Well, I’ll be on my way then.” 

“I’ll walk you!” Anthony volunteered immediately.

“That way you won’t lose more points if you run into a professor or Filch on your way back.” 

“It’s fine,” Hermione replied. “I don’t want you to leave Parkinson to do rounds alone.” 

“We actually just finished,” Anthony said quickly.

“And Pansy said she’d write up the rounds report tonight. Besides, I don’t like the idea of you walking alone in the halls after that stunt Borgin pulled.” 

“I’m sure—”

"I’ll be fine," Hermione said with a polite smile.

"Come on, Hermione," Anthony urged. "I've been trying to find you the last couple of days.

I have something I want to talk to you about."

At that moment, Hermione definitely didn’t want to walk with Anthony. She had already decided he wasn’t a viable option for her.

Despite his occasional charm, there was something distinctly insincere about him, and he made her uncomfortable—perhaps because he reminded her too much of Cormac McLaggan. "Maybe over the weekend," she suggested.

"Aw, come on. Let me walk you to Gryffindor Tower.

We’re old DA buddies. You’re good with it, right, Pansy?"

The air seemed to vibrate slightly.

Anthony smelled nicer than Hermione remembered. Both she and Pansy blinked.

"Yeah, it’s fine," Pansy said, starting to walk away. "I guess it’s alright," Hermione said slowly.

"Great," Anthony replied with a grin, stepping beside her. Hermione glanced around and noticed that Nearly Headless Nick had vanished without a word.

They walked about twenty feet before Anthony broke the silence. "So… you probably know why I want to talk to you."

Hermione gave a faint nod, focusing on maintaining a quick pace without appearing too hurried.

"Right. Now that you aren’t smelling like Malfoy’s cologne anymore, I wanted to be the first to ask if you’d be interested in going out.

I mean, this whole Alpha-Omega thing complicates things, but I’ve always thought you were pretty brilliant and honestly kind of intimidating—in a good way. And we’re old friends."

Hermione cleared her throat, trying to figure out how to let him down gently.

Being asked out wasn’t something she had much experience with. "That’s very nice of you, Anthony," she stammered, feeling her cheeks flush faintly.

"But, honestly, I’m not really sure I’m ready to get into a relationship just yet. This is all pretty new for me."

"I need more time to find my bearings and evaluate my options before making any decisions...

or commitments." 

Anthony's friendly demeanor faded slightly. "Do you really think you can do that?" he asked.

Hermione looked at him, puzzled. "What do you mean?"

"Be single.

Do you really think someone like you can actually be single?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow, taken aback. "Someone like me?"

"An Omega.

Honestly, I think you’re deluding yourself if you think you can stay single as an Omega."

"Well, I seem to be managing so far," Hermione replied, her tone sharp as tension coiled in her shoulders. "It may not be ideal, but I’m not going to rush into something.

I’d rather stay single for as long as I can."

Anthony snorted in irritation. "But you haven’t been single.

You’ve been smelling like Malfoy this whole time. Now that you don’t, it’s like you’re begging for attention.

You basically scream sex like it’s an open invitation. You need an Alpha’s scent on you."

Hermione stared at him, feeling a rush of anger.

"That’s what it’s like to be around me?" she said, suddenly on edge in the hallway with him. "Instinctively, yeah.

I mean, sex is what Omegas are for."

Her eyes narrowed, outrage boiling within her as her hand instinctively moved toward her wand. "I am more than my biology," she snapped.

"And even if I weren’t, weren’t you the one talking about witches making their own choices regarding their sex lives? Are Omegas somehow excluded from that?" Her voice dripped with venom.

"Calm down, Hermione," he said, rolling his eyes. "Don’t try blaming me for this.

It’s just how it is. You’re taking it personally."

In that moment, Hermione felt the urge to punch him in the face.

How dare he tell her to calm down? She was calm.

And not take it personally? She was one of the few Omegas in England.

How else was she supposed to feel? “Am I just supposed to take this?” Hermione snapped.

“I haven’t even smelled like Malfoy for days, and Neville has managed to keep his distance.” Her voice was icy as she continued, “I’m on suppressants, and I’m limiting my time in common areas. I’m not being unreasonable; I’m just trying to finish my education like everyone else.

I’m sorry if this disappoints you, Anthony, but I’m not going to enter a relationship with you just because of how I smell. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for curfew.” With that, she stalked away, anger bubbling inside her.

She didn’t want to be anywhere near Anthony Goldstein. “Wait, Hermione,” Anthony called after her.

“No,” she spat over her shoulder, refusing to stop. “I said wait.” His voice cut through the air, a commanding tone that nearly halted her in her tracks.

For a moment, her feet faltered before she pushed herself to move faster, fury igniting within her. How dare he try to use an Alpha tone on her?

“Wait!” Anthony growled, his voice wrapping around her like a vice. She felt his hand close around her wrist, pulling her back, his thumb brushing her scent gland.

The sensation jolted through her like an electric shock, and she felt her resolve start to crumble. No...

Her hand reached for her wand, but before she could raise it, he knocked it away and shoved her against the wall. The impact made her head crack sharply against the stones, and stars danced before her eyes.

A portrait nearby shouted in protest. Blinking rapidly to clear her vision, she found herself staring up at Anthony’s indignant face.

“Anthony, stop,” she said, her voice shaking as she fought through the pain in her head and the fog his voice had created. She tugged at his grip, desperate to free herself.

“Let me go.”

“I told you to wait. You should have listened to me,” he growled, the Alpha tone in his voice heavy, constricting around her mind.

Danger. Danger.

A part of her began to chant. Alpha.

Alpha. Alpha.

She twitched, desperately trying to move, but her body remained stubbornly in place. “Stay here,” Anthony commanded, his tone growing even more forceful.

His thumbs slid over her wrists, brushing against her scent glands, sending shivers down her spine. She whimpered slightly, caught in a battle within her mind.

Stay. Wait.

Your Alpha wants you to stay. The desire to obey enveloped her like a thick fog.

Yet another part of her fought back. He was making her stay.

He hadn’t asked. He wasn’t offering a choice.

She didn’t want to stay. He hurt her.

He wasn’t safe. He wasn’t taking care of her; he was just taking.

As she sobbed and instinctively recoiled, Anthony stepped closer. “Don’t worry.

I’m not going to hurt you,” he said gently, his voice low and coaxing. Hermione struggled against the urge to give in.

He pulled her wrists together, clamping one large hand around them both. “I’m going to be your Alpha now.

You didn’t want Malfoy’s stench hanging around you anyway. I’ll be much better for you.” 

With his free hand, he tilted her head back.

Hermione began to pant as he moved closer, pushing her against the cold stone wall while breathing deeply against her throat. She choked back another sob.

“You smell so good now,” he said, his voice dripping with possession. “I bet you’ll smell even better when you’re mine.” 

“D-don’t,” Hermione managed to choke out as she felt him nuzzle against her neck, her body betraying her resolve.

She tried to push him away, but he had a significant physical advantage. His expression shifted to anger and possessiveness as he tightened his grip on her wrists, pulling her closer.

“You’re mine,” he declared forcefully. “My Omega.

I’m going to bury my teeth in your neck and—”

“You’ll never fight me again. Now do as I say and stop struggling.” 

Hermione sobbed, feeling her mind slipping further under the influence of his voice.

She was fading into a place of mindlessness, a state of obedience. The thought of surrendering to him felt overwhelming.

Alpha would take care of everything; all she had to do was wait and submit. She felt herself arching her head back, exposing her neck.

“Good girl.” 

His teeth grazed her skin, sending shivers down her spine. A rush of heat pooled in her lower abdomen, and she realized he was going to bond with her—mark her right there in the hallway.

A wave of panic washed over her. “Please don’t,” she begged, trying to slide down the wall, away from his teeth.

“Stay still,” he commanded. The weight of his voice pressed down on her as he dragged his tongue along her scent gland.

Hermione felt herself floating, her thoughts smothered by the mantra of Alpha. Large hands gripped her tightly, and she could feel his hot breath on her skin.

Her body grew warmer, radiating heat, and a throbbing sensation built between her legs as his tongue continued to lav against her neck. She arched into him, feeling his hard body pinning her against the wall.

“I’m going to bite you. Then I’m going to...

It’s been killing me, waiting. I’ve heard about what it’s like to knot.

I’ve been imagining bending you over ever since you walked into the Great Hall.” 

His words were murmured against her skin. “No…” The plea tore itself from deep within her, breaking through the haze.

“Don’t fight me, Omega,” he said angrily, and she felt something shrivel inside her. Dimly aware, she was arching obediently, further exposing her neck as he began sucking hard on her glands, his body pressed against hers, grinding his pelvis into her stomach.

Then, suddenly, he was gone. A crashing sound echoed, but Hermione was too dazed to comprehend it.

“Goldstein, I am going to tear you limb from—”

The entire area around Hermione vibrated with the snarl of fury that suddenly filled the air. She felt herself sliding down the wall, her body on edge and frustrated, while somewhere inside, she sensed tears welling up.

Hands gently cupped her face, tilting her head up. In her dazed state, she thought she caught a flash of grey.

“You bastard! You forced her into sub-space!” 

“Right, because she smelled like you, right?

Like she wanted to. What are you going to pretend?

That sleeping with her during heat was any different than putting her under?”

Crashing sounds echoed around her, accompanied by sparkly lights that she could only vaguely register. Eventually, the flashes ceased, leaving only groans in their wake.

Then, warm hands returned to her face, and there was that grey again. She felt herself being lifted, wrapped in someone's arms—was she being carried?

She inhaled deeply. Oh, she recognized that scent.

It was pleasant, heavenly, and safe. Burying her face in the shoulder, she slipped her tongue out to taste it.

It was perfect. Her eyes rolled back slightly as she breathed in again, sliding her tongue against the skin and teasing along the collar of the shirt.

A low gasp vibrated through her, making her feel as if she were turning to honey inside. With a sigh, she wrapped her arms snugly around the person and hugged them tightly.

But then she felt herself being put down. The arms around her withdrew and pushed her back slightly.

That grey again. “Granger, come on, you need to come back up.” 

The voice was shaking faintly.

She knew that voice… those eyes. And always that scent.

Malfoy. He cradled her face between his fingers, staring intently into her eyes.

His voice was low and coaxing. “Come back up, Granger.” 

Her mind felt cocooned in warmth and reassurance.

If she did what he said—she had a feeling she could trust him. “Stay still.

Be quiet.” 

She remained silent, trying to follow his instructions. “Come on, Granger,” Malfoy urged, his voice low and steady.

In that moment, she felt an overwhelming sense of safety. His strength surrounded her, and the proximity of his body was comforting.

He was undeniably attractive, and she could sense his breath quickening, his scent almost intoxicating. She could still taste him lingering on her tongue.

His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of possessiveness and anger, but there was also worry etched on his face as he stared at her, unable to look away. He still carried her scent—hers.

She reached out, gripping his tie, and tilted her head back, exposing her neck to him. She had tried to behave, resisting the attention of other boys, even putting in extra effort to appear pretty for him.

But he hadn’t seemed to notice. She was meant to please him, and surely he would appreciate her submission, wouldn’t he?

Perhaps she just hadn’t been submissive enough. She parted her legs and let out a soft, pleading sound.