All You Want Episode 9 - Harry Potter

 For Harry Potter audiobook lovers, this chapter delivers an intimate, high-stakes turning point. Hermione comes back to herself in Draco Malfoy’s arms, memory flooding in, and the choice he makes is restraint, protection, and a vow that no one will touch her without consent. Their almost-kiss shatters when professors burst in, suspicion lands on Draco, and Hermione is forced to defend the boy who stopped the assault. Outside, the corridor roars with summoned Alphas, proof that her fear carried farther than she knew, and the politics of an unbound Omega at Hogwarts ignite. 

Transcript

**Chapter 9: I’m Trying to Hold My Breath.**

Malfoy’s eyes darkened to the point of almost appearing black. He slid his hand away from her face, trailing it down to her throat before pulling her closer.

Leaning in, he breathed deeply against her skin. Hermione sighed, tilting her head back further.

“Oh, damn,” he murmured. “I thought I had imagined how perfect you smell.”

Hermione felt as if she might melt into a puddle, the heat of his breath seeping into her.

She could feel the tip of his nose lightly brushing against her neck, and a low moan escaped her lips as she clutched at his robes. When he began to pull away, she held on tightly, refusing to let go.

The urge to strip away her clothes and feel his skin against hers was overwhelming. She nuzzled into his neck, feeling a possessive connection—he was hers, and he smelled like her.

His grip on her tightened, shaking ever so slightly. He growled against her skin, sending shivers coursing through her body down to her toes.

Suddenly, she paused, capturing his jaw in her hand and lifting his face from her shoulder to study him. His expression was a mix of possessiveness and rage—not directed at her, but for her.

Someone had hurt her, and Malfoy was nearly feral with it. The palpable rage surrounding him felt explosive.

Instinctively, she understood. He was her Alpha.

It was her role to soothe and reassure him. She was alright, and she needed to show him.

Leaning forward, she pressed a small, tender kiss to the side of his neck, then another kiss, a little higher up. His shaking stilled under her touch.

She pressed another kiss near his jaw while her fingers slipped down to push aside the collar of his shirt, lightly caressing the scent glands on both sides of his neck. He let out a guttural moan, and in an instant, all the angry tension within him melted away, his focus shifting from protective anger to undeniable desire.

Hermione scooted closer until they were pressed against each other. She began to plant tender kisses along his neck, trailing up to his jaw, and finally captured his lips with hers.

The taste of him made her moan softly. In an instant, he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her onto his lap.

She instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, grinding against him. The pressure of her center against him elicited a shared groan.

As she slid her hands over his shoulders and into his hair, she tugged gently, deepening the kiss. Their tongues intertwined, and he responded with a low growl of approval, pushing back with his own tongue, exploring her mouth.

His hands began to roam over her curves, slipping beneath her clothes, gripping her possessively. Hermione could feel the heat rising between them as she brushed against his clothing, their scents mingling in the air.

His fingers teased her skin, making her arch into him, and he crushed her against his body. Oh, how she loved this—the certainty of it, the strength he exuded.

She could feel his muscles rippling beneath the fabric, and instead of feeling frightened by the disparity in their physical power, her mind relaxed. He wouldn’t use it to hurt her; he would only please and protect her.

A perfect Alpha. Hers.

Her heart raced, and she gasped against his mouth as he continued to kiss her, nipping at her lips. With a surge of courage, she drew her hand back and began unbuttoning her shirt, parting the fabric to encourage him to push her clothes off.

She felt golden, having longed for him for weeks, dreaming of their connection. She guided one of his hands to her breast, moaning as his fingers slipped under the cup of her bra, teasing her aching nipple.

A choked gasp escaped her lips as she arched her back further. “Alpha…” she panted.

“Alpha, please…” He suddenly pulled away, yanking his hand back. “Oh, damn,” he swore angrily, staring at her in his lap.

Hermione blinked, confusion washing over her. “Merlin, Granger,” Malfoy said, his voice strained as he ran a hand through his hair, eyes wide with surprise.

Maybe... she was supposed to take her clothes off for him.

Hesitantly, she began to pull her shirt off and reached behind her back to unclasp her bra. Malfoy watched her, dazed, until she started sliding the straps off her shoulders.

Suddenly, he sprang to life, grabbing her hands to stop her. “D-don’t,” he said hoarsely.

“Don’t do that, Granger.” 

Hermione blinked at him, disappointment swelling within her. “Was I not a good girl?” she asked slowly.

He stared back, speechless. “I tried to be good,” she continued.

“I tried to look pretty. I didn’t touch myself.

I tried not to let anyone touch me—but he licked me even when I said ‘no.’ I can be good. I can try harder.” She felt her lip tremble.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Malfoy exclaimed, despair evident in his voice. He released her hands and wrapped her in a hug.

Hermione melted against him, savoring the warmth of his body. She could stay like this forever.

With a sigh into his chest, she felt him rest his chin on top of her head. “You’re a very good girl, Granger,” he said in a husky voice.

“I’m really pleased with you. Goldstein is a tosser, and I’ll help you deal with him later.” 

He gently pulled back, looking into her eyes with concern.

“But you need to wake up now. You’re not a mindless submissive.

Goldstein forced you. I know you don’t want to be like this.

So let’s put your shirt back on and figure out how to get you back to your dorm.” 

“I like... “Being here with you,” Hermione protested, a hint of irritation in her voice.

Malfoy sighed and turned his gaze away from her. “I sincerely doubt that.

But if you’ll cooperate and let me bring you back from wherever Goldstein managed to shove that enormous brain of yours, and you still want to be here—well,” he scoffed, “I certainly won’t stop you then.” 

Hermione re-clasped her bra and pulled her shirt back onto her shoulders. Malfoy buttoned her shirt almost all the way up but left the top three undone, exposing her scent glands as he regarded her thoughtfully.

She remained seated on his lap, gazing up at him with adoration, trying not to swoon over his striking cheekbones. He was undeniably handsome, his dark eyes locked on hers.

In a bold move, she reached up and unbuttoned one of the buttons he had fastened, revealing more of her cleavage. “No, no, no,” Malfoy said immediately, rebuttoning it.

“None of that, Granger. I’m trying to think.

You’re already impossible enough to think around with your clothes all in place. I’ve never done this before; I honestly have no clue how to wake you back up.” 

He rested his hands on her shoulders, staring into her eyes.

“Granger, come back up,” he commanded softly. The authority in his voice sent a thrill down her spine, leaving her mind buzzing.

She sighed, leaning forward to kiss him. Malfoy attempted to dodge, but she grasped his collar and pulled him close, pressing their lips together.

In an instant, his hands tangled in her hair, and he kissed her back with a fierce intensity. Their mouths moved against each other, hot and bruising, until they both gasped for breath.

When they finally broke apart, reality seemed to hit him. He drew back, untangling his fingers from her hair.

“Right. So that obviously didn’t work,” Malfoy said, panting as they stared at each other.

His cheeks were flushed, and just as Hermione leaned in for another kiss, he gently placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. Malfoy placed his hands on her shoulders, gently stopping her.

He reached out, slowly sliding his thumbs over her collarbones, caressing her scent glands. Hermione let out a low keen, her entire body going slack in his grasp.

He caught her, pulling her close against his chest. As he dipped his head down, Hermione stilled, holding her breath, hoping he would lick her.

The throbbing in her neck was agonizingly sensitive, and every word he spoke or breath he took sent tingles of anticipation through her. She longed to feel his soothing tongue against her.

But he didn't lick her. Instead, he breathed deeply, and the room suddenly felt thick with his scent as his thumbs brushed over her glands again.

“Granger, come back up now,” Malfoy said, his voice breaking through the fog in Hermione's mind. She let out a low, slightly pained whimper of desire, arching her head back further in frustration.

Why wouldn't he lick her? “Alpha…” she pleaded softly.

He looked down into her eyes and sighed, sliding a hand along the column of her neck, pulling her closer as his lips ghosted over her skin. She felt his breath on her glands, stifling a moan of anticipation.

Then, she felt the tip of his tongue brush against her gland, sending a shudder through her body as if she were being bathed in magic. He gave a long, broad lick, and the sensation shot straight through her.

Her body throbbed with need. She moaned and pressed against him, feeling his arousal straining against his trousers.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding his mouth against her neck. This… this was everything.

Surely now he’d take her, pushing her down and filling her completely. The ache inside her intensified, desperate for him.

He moaned, gripping her more tightly as his tongue caressed her skin, igniting a fire within her. He pressed his lips against her neck, and Hermione gasped as a shiver coursed through her body, igniting a heat that coiled into a fire within her lower abdomen.

She slid her hand down his torso, reaching for his trousers, but just as she began to slip her fingers inside, his hand left her waist and closed around her wrist, stopping her. His thumb grazed the sensitive spot on her wrist, and she melted against him, feeling utterly consumed by sensation.

“Alpha. Alpha.

Alpha. Please,” she whispered, trying to shift her hips against him.

He released her neck, and disappointment washed over her. But instead of pulling away, he buried his face against her shoulder and inhaled deeply.

The cool air brushed against the spot where his mouth had just been, causing her hair to shift and tickle her skin. A quivering anticipation blossomed in her lower spine as she tensed, waiting.

She felt his lips lightly trace the juncture of her neck and shoulder, and she rolled her head forward, resting her cheek against his shoulder to breathe in his scent. He held her tightly as he pressed his mouth against her neck, and she held her breath, remaining still.

“Granger, you’ve been a good girl, but you need to come back now. Come back up.” There was a forcefulness beneath his coaxing growl against her throat, the vibration cutting through the fog in Hermione’s mind.

It felt like surfacing after a deep dive, seeing the shimmering surface overhead, kicking toward it as it sparkled and shifted in waves, feeling the pressure change, and finally breaching with a gasp. Hermione’s mind snapped back into focus, the world around her seeming to slow as she absorbed what had just happened.

She lifted her head from his shoulder, and as she did, Malfoy’s hands slipped away. She looked up at him, dazed, feeling intensely emotional and vulnerable as they locked eyes.

“Oh my God,” Hermione whispered, her voice trembling. “Granger?” Draco asked, his tone uncertain.

She nodded slowly, keeping her gaze locked on him. “Do you remember what happened?” he inquired, studying her intently.

Again, she nodded, fighting back tears. “Are you alright?” he asked gently.

She shook her head, looking around as if trying to ground herself. They were sitting on the floor of a classroom.

Biting her lip, she rubbed her wrists together, seeking comfort as the reality of the situation sank in. To her surprise, Draco wrapped his arms around her.

She instinctively clung to him. “It’s not your fault,” he murmured.

“Goldstein is a bastard for using your biology against you like that.” 

“He asked me out,” Hermione said, her anger bubbling to the surface. “And when I said no, he claimed I was basically an open invitation.

Then, when I tried to leave, he forced me to stay and said—he said he was going to bite me.” 

She trembled in Draco’s embrace. He tightened his hold on her.

“It’s alright. You’re safe now,” he reassured her.

His voice wrapped around her, soothing her shivers. “No one is going to bite you or do anything you don’t want.” 

“But they will,” she replied, her voice wavering.

“It’s written into me now, somewhere deep down where I can’t change it. I can barely say no.

And even if I do, they can just ignore it and make me cooperate.” 

She buried her face in his neck, acutely aware that she was seated in Draco Malfoy’s lap—the very person who had avoided her gaze for weeks. Yet, the comfort of his embrace made her feel as though she might burst into tears if he let go.

Since he hadn’t pushed her away, she decided to stay put until he did. “I hate this.

I hate this biology,” she said fiercely. Draco sighed and held her even tighter.

If only she could remain in his arms forever, that would be perfect. His hands gently stroked her back, and the familiar scent of him enveloped her once again.

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Granger,” Malfoy growled, his voice low and protective. One of his hands tangled in her curls at the back of her head, holding her firmly, almost possessively.

Her head rested under his chin, and she could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It felt blissful.

She closed her eyes and melted against him. After a moment, she lifted her head and gazed into his eyes, still dark and intense.

Hesitantly, she reached out and placed her hand on his cheek, watching as his eyes deepened in color. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“Thank you for stopping Anthony. I don’t—I don’t know what I would have done if he’d bitten me.” A shudder ran through her.

While it wouldn’t have created a permanent bond, it would have had lasting effects. Soulbonding required her to be in heat, and if Anthony had bitten her when she wasn’t, it would have intensified Malfoy’s scent on her, multiplied many times over.

The effects would linger for months, potentially leaving her vulnerable until her next heat when he could have attempted to make it permanent. “Thank you, Malfoy,” she repeated, her voice trembling slightly.

She looked into his silver eyes, and the connection felt electric, making it hard to remember to breathe. Her heart raced, as if it might explode.

“You—you are—” 

She found herself leaning closer to him, unsure if it was her doing or if he had drawn nearer. She had never imagined that making eye contact could set her heart racing like a sprint around the Quidditch pitch.

His silver eyes were like liquid, and she felt as if she could drown in them. It was different from the fog of arousal; she couldn’t quite put it into words.

She drew in a ragged breath, trying to pull her gaze away from his, but instead, she found herself wanting to stay lost in that moment. Hermione stared at Draco's mouth, captivated.

His hand remained in her hair, his thumb gently caressing the nape of her neck. She tried to recall what she had been saying, but her focus was entirely on his lips, which were slightly parted.

Suddenly, the matter of Anthony felt distant and insignificant, overshadowed by the reality of being in Draco Malfoy's arms for the first time. The air around them crackled with tension, almost humming with an unspoken energy.

She shifted closer, reassured that if he truly despised her, he wouldn't let her sit in his lap while promising to keep her safe. Surely, he wouldn't care if he thought she was detestable and of low blood status.

Perhaps there had been a misunderstanding. Their faces were nearly touching, and she could almost feel his lips brushing against hers.

“Malfoy…?” she whispered, her lips grazing his as she spoke. The sensation was electric.

They both shivered and leaned in closer. She traced her thumb along the arch of his cheekbone, and his fingers tightened in her hair in response.

Kiss him. Kiss him and he’ll never leave you, her mind urged.

He’ll always keep you safe. He’ll always be yours.

She wanted to, but she needed to know. “Malfoy, do you—?”

Before she could finish her thought, the classroom door burst open, and Professor McGonagall stormed in, followed by several other professors.

Minerva's wand was immediately aimed at Draco. “Mr.

Malfoy, remove your hands from Miss Granger this instant,” she commanded in a firm voice. The sudden arrival of others shattered the electric tension, causing Hermione and Draco to spring apart and scramble to their feet.

“Miss Granger, are you alright? A portrait reported that you’d been attacked,” Professor Vector said, moving toward Draco, while Minerva pulled Hermione closer to her.

“I’m fine,” Hermione replied, trying to regain her composure. “Headmistress,” Hermione said, straightening her clothes awkwardly as she was hurried across the room.

Minerva shot a glare at Malfoy. “I warned you, Mr.

Malfoy. It was with extreme reluctance that I allowed you to return to this school after your actions in sixth year.

And now, I find my halls crawling with enraged Alphas, a prefect in the hospital wing, nearly beaten and cursed to death, and you, once again, compromising Miss Granger.”

Malfoy went pale as Dawlish took him by the arm, wand leveled at his temple, and started pulling him from the classroom. Hermione stared, bewildered, but Malfoy remained silent.

“Headmistress,” Hermione blurted out quickly, “Malfoy isn’t the one who attacked me. Anthony shoved me into a wall and tried to—to bite me.

Malfoy is the one who stopped him.”

The professors all froze, exchanging glances. A heavy silence hung in the air.

“I see. Well, if that’s the case, you should have come to my office and reported it immediately,” Minerva said, looking taken aback as she glanced between Hermione and Malfoy.

“I—was not—entirely lucid afterward,” Hermione stammered. “Malfoy brought me here to help me snap out of it.” 

The Hogwarts staff eyed her with overt skepticism, and Hermione suddenly realized that, judging by Malfoy’s rumpled appearance, she probably looked a bit worse for wear.

Her tie was missing, her shirt half unbuttoned, her hair stood on end, and she could feel a flush creeping across her cheeks and chest. Her lips felt distinctly swollen.

“He didn’t do anything that I didn’t initiate,” Hermione added, her cheeks growing hotter as she fought the urge to bury her face somewhere—preferably in Malfoy’s chest. Instead, she rubbed her wrist surreptitiously against her hip.

“Well—”

"Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall snapped, "control yourself!" 

Malfoy abruptly jerked away from Dawlish, making a muffled sound, his expression tense.

Professor Dawlish firmly pressed his wand under Malfoy’s jaw to keep him still. "Please escort Mr.

Malfoy to my office," McGonagall continued. "I will take Miss Granger outside to resolve the situation and then to the hospital ward." 

"Very well, Minerva," Dawlish replied with a nod, continuing to prod Malfoy in the throat before dragging him out of the classroom.

Hermione watched Malfoy leave, their eyes locking for a brief, electric moment before he disappeared around the corner, leaving her alone with McGonagall and Professor Vector. "Malfoy really didn’t do anything, Headmistress," Hermione insisted.

"He shouldn’t be punished." 

Minerva turned her gaze to Hermione, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Miss Granger, are you—becoming attached to Mr.

Malfoy?" 

Hermione felt her stomach drop slightly and glanced between McGonagall and Professor Vector, who wore an increasingly distasteful expression. The small classroom was heavy with an uncomfortable tension that lingered despite the fact that nothing had happened.

"N-no," Hermione stammered. "It’s just—I would—" She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, speaking quickly.

"He could have taken advantage of the situation, and with the state I was in, I would have wanted him to. But he didn’t.

He stopped." The bitterness in her voice was palpable as she said the last word. Her cheeks flushed as she opened her eyes, inhaling sharply through her nose and staring determinedly at the floor.

"I just think you should know how profoundly grateful I am to him for coming to my aid. If he hadn’t shown up right then..."

“I don’t know what Anthony would have done to me.

If anything, Malfoy should be rewarded.” McGonagall regarded Hermione thoughtfully for several moments before shaking herself from her reverie. “Very well, Miss Granger.

After Poppy has seen you, I would like a complete account of what happened with Mr. Goldstein.

Let’s take you to the Hospital Ward and get you some Murtlap Essence for your neck.” She looked Hermione up and down and cleared her throat. “Perhaps you should button your shirt.” 

Feeling a bit awkward, Hermione turned away from the two older women to button and tuck in her shirt, then tried to smooth her hair.

When she turned back, she felt the Headmistress cast a freshening charm on her. Hermione blushed at the attention.

McGonagall turned toward the door but paused. “You should brace yourself; there’s quite a commotion in the hallway,” she warned before sweeping through the door.

The ‘commotion’ outside was a chaotic scene of the other Alphas at Hogwarts—some half-dressed, all angrily shouting at their professors, who were trying to ward them off with their wands. Hermione stared in astonishment and nervously sidled behind McGonagall.

“Did they all show up because I was attacked?” she asked in a shrill voice, peering over the tartan-clad shoulder. “Apparently,” McGonagall replied, her gaze fixed on the scene unfolding before them.

Neville was there, wearing his robes and a pair of trousers but no shirt or shoes. Several boys sported pajamas of various kinds, while Theodore wore slacks and no shirt.

Peter was draped in a bathrobe. They were all arguing with Flitwick, Slughorn, Hooch, and Sprout.

Even Phineas was lurking against one wall. “Half of them were here before the professors arrived,” McGonagall noted.

“It didn’t occur to me that I’d called them all,” Hermione admitted awkwardly. She remembered reading about it in her books: when Omegas were extremely frightened, they inadvertently sent out a signal that drew others to their aid.

Pheromones had a powerful effect, almost like going into heat. Since Hermione was unbound, any nearby Alphas felt an instinctive urge to come to her rescue.

It explained how Malfoy had appeared out of nowhere. “Fortunately, your distress signal didn’t send them into a frenzy, or we would have had to stun them all,” McGonagall continued.

“They were willing to let the professors search for you, understanding that looking for you as a group wouldn’t end well. We promised to let them see you once we found you, but they agreed to behave themselves.”

“Hermione!” Neville shouted as he spotted her peeking over McGonagall's shoulder.

He dashed toward her, followed closely by the other boys. They nearly knocked over McGonagall and Professor Vector as they crowded around Hermione like an excited pack of dogs.

The moment they surrounded her, Hermione froze, standing still as they closed in. In the background, she vaguely heard McGonagall and the rest of the Hogwarts staff begin to shout in frustration.