All You Want Episode 31 - Harry Potter

 A steamy bathroom scene turns into a lesson in trust when playful restraint collides with real vulnerability, and Hermione reminds Draco that consent has always been their anchor. Talk of St Mungo’s and a future beyond biology sparks the wrong kind of silence, Draco walks out to clear his head, and the Marauder’s Map shows him with the Greengrass sisters. Jealousy flares, reason wobbles, and Hermione must decide what she believes about love, choice, and the boy who keeps promising to stay. 

Transcript

Chapter 31: I’m Jealous, I’m Over-Zealous. Hermione was firmly pressed, face-first, against the bathroom door, her hands magically pinned to the door above her head.

Draco’s hard chest was pressed against the length of her back, and he was fucking her at an agonizingly slow rate. She could feel her core fluttering around him as he pressed slowly into her.

Her fingers were scrabbling for something to hold as her entire body tensed around him. He gave a low hiss; the air ghosted across her over-sensitive glands and she gave a low whimper.

His hands slid along her body languorously, playing with her glands on her wrists until she was quivering and then slowly gliding down to palm her breasts and roll her nipples between his fingers. His thumb rubbed a soft circle against the tip of her nipple and her entire body tensed as if she’d been electrocuted.

“God!—” She shuddered and collapsed against the door. Draco’s lips pressed against the back of her neck and then down along her trapezius muscle as he used one arm to keep her legs from giving out beneath her.

“Mine,” he said against her shoulder, breathing deeply against her skin. “You’re mine.” She felt him open his mouth and catch her shoulder between his teeth.

His upper incisors dragged against her scent glands. Hermione gave a guttural scream and her entire body tensed and nearly spasmed around him.

Her forehead smacked sharply on the door and she winced, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. “God!!

Bloody—fuck—Draco—please.” “Please what?” Draco rolled his hips and drove into her again. She could hear the smirk in his voice.

She swallowed. “Please—” Bite me.

Please bite me. Bite me.

Please. “Please—,” she dropped her head against the door and drew a ragged breath as she tried to remember how to form a sentence.

Draco’s cock withdrew and then pressed slowly into her again until she gasped and made an utterly incoherent noise. “Please,

“Alpha,” she half-whimpered.

“I need you.”

“You need to be more specific.” 

Draco's tongue slid down the shell of her ear, catching a drop of water from her lobe. Her hair was dripping wet from their evening shower.

She had been giving him a very extended blow job, and the arousal was becoming overwhelming when he finally lost patience. Admittedly, he had asked her to get up and let him take her five times before he had dragged her out of the shower, snatched up his wand, and magicked her wrists to the door.

“You are the most uncooperative witch,” he muttered into her ear as his fingers slid into her core, eliciting a low moan from her. “What?

Do you want me docile?” she asked, her voice thick with desire as she twisted her wrists slightly, trying to determine what charm he had used to bind her. “Never,” he replied, withdrawing his fingers.

He let out a low groan, aligned himself with her, and slowly sheathed himself inside her. If he didn’t want her docile, he certainly didn’t seem to mind her threatening, indignant, exhorting, cajoling, whimpering, and finally begging as he pushed her to the very edge of an orgasm and held her there for what felt like an eternity.

Draco brushed his lips against her skin, and a shiver ran through her body. “Is there something specific you wanted, Hermione?” 

Bite me.

Bite me. Bite me.

Hermione dropped her head against the door as his fingertips traced along the underside of her breasts. She trembled at his touch, releasing a despairing moan.

“God, Draco, please—” bite me—“let me come,” she pleaded. Draco paused, and she could feel the smirk curving against her shoulder.

“When someone asks very nicely for something, the polite thing to do would be to listen rather than raise your eyebrows and ignore their request five times.”

a row. "Don’t you think?” Hermione clenched her jaw, her entire body trembling.

“I didn’t have you stuck to the door.” She forced the words out, her breath hitching. Draco’s fingers trailed down, drawing light circles across her pelvis.

Her clit throbbed, and her inner walls fluttered around him, turning her into molten liquid. “I don’t recall hearing you object to it at any time,” he replied, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Hermione pressed her lips together, realizing he had a fair point. Swallowing hard, she softened her tone, her voice becoming a gentle plea.

“Please, Draco, please let me come. Please, Alpha.”

Draco rolled his hips, tangling a hand in her wet hair to draw her head back, his teeth grazing her jaw.

“You’re a good girl, and you do ask so nicely.” 

Hermione shivered and gasped as Draco thrust quicker and harder. His mouth felt like fire against her skin, sucking hard on her sensitive spots as his knot began to swell.

He shifted back slightly, careful not to knot inside her. “Alpha, Alpha, please,” she chanted as he drove into her, relentless.

She bit her lip, desperate to keep her thoughts to herself. “Come for me,” he commanded.

His hand found its way between her legs, and he barely had to touch her before she shattered. The climax hit her with a ferocity that made her legs give out, collapsing against the door.

As Draco muttered the counter-charm, her hands slipped free just before his hips began to jerk in a sharp rhythm. He crushed her against his chest, dragging his teeth along her shoulder with a ragged growl.

As she felt him release, a second orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave. The intensity consumed her, tearing through her until she felt as though she might fall apart.

Gasping and shuddering in Draco’s arms, she suddenly burst into tears. Not again.

Good grief, it was getting absurd how often she cried. With a frustrated huff, she tried to scrub the tears away.

She sobbed her way through her climax, tears streaming down her face. Fortunately, Draco remained unfazed by her tears.

He wrapped his arms around her, whispering how much he liked her until her sobs subsided. Over the past week, she had cried more than usual.

Bracing herself against the door, she continued to cry out, “Fuck—” 

In an instant, she found herself turned and held tightly against Draco's chest as he peppered kisses across her face. “I’m so sorry.

I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—fuck.

I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Hermione blinked through her tears, trying to make sense of his expression.

He was usually calm when she cried, but this time, his face was filled with horror. Choking back her sobs, she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“It’s fine—it’s fine, Draco.” She hiccuped the words and pressed herself against him. He shook his head sharply, tightening his embrace.

“No. I’m so sorry.

I shouldn’t have trapped your hands, and I shouldn’t have had my teeth anywhere near you. I should have asked.

I swear, I’ll never do it again. I’m so sorry.” His breathing quickened, as though he were on the verge of a panic attack.

Oh god, he thought she was crying because he had scared her. Hermione hugged him tighter until her chest stopped heaving.

Then she pulled back slightly, catching his face in her hands and staring into his eyes. “Draco, it was just intense.

I’m fine. You didn’t scare me.

You didn’t do anything I didn’t like. You used a first-year sticking charm on me, you dolt.

I was perfectly aware of how to counter it.” 

“Still—” 

Hermione pressed her mouth against his, silencing his concerns. When she finally pulled back, she rested their foreheads together.

“Draco, you have been so careful. You haven’t done anything I haven’t liked, and you’ve always given me plenty of opportunities to…”

"I could have backed out if I wanted to.

You didn’t use an Alpha tone, which made it easier for me to free my hands from that charm. It was just intense.

You didn’t scare or upset me at all, I promise. In fact, that was actually rather fun.

I’ve just been crying a lot lately."

He studied her face carefully. "If I ever do anything you don’t want, just tell me."

"I will.

I’m not docile, remember?" She gave him a cheeky smile. He offered a wan smile in return but still seemed subdued.

Hermione glanced down at the mess of fluid between them. "Come on, let’s finish our shower."

He followed her, but no matter what Hermione did to cheer him up, his mood remained heavy.

After they finished showering, and she had dried her hair and gotten dressed, she began gathering her homework, which was scattered messily across the coffee table and couch. "This is one of yours," Draco said quietly, not looking at her as he held out a scroll adorned with a St Mungo’s insignia.

Hermione took it, avoiding his gaze. "Right.

Thanks." After Harry and Ron's visit, she had told Draco about going through the interview process with St Mungo’s. She framed it as just an option she wanted to explore, leaving out the potential side effects.

Draco had listened quietly, avoiding eye contact as she explained. "Well, if that’s what you want to do," was all he had said before changing the subject entirely, aside from a few terse acknowledgments.

She packed the scroll into her satchel to mail in the morning. "You know, I’m still going to date you, even if you aren’t an Omega anymore," Draco said abruptly.

"I liked you before you were an Omega, and I’m still going to like you if you aren’t one." 

Hermione almost dropped her bag and looked up at him, startled. Draco was staring at her from across the room, his jaw set and his expression serious.

Hermione felt a mixture of determination and concern. But when she met Draco's gaze, it faltered; his eyes dropped, and a deep blush crept across his cheeks.

“Unless—unless you didn’t want me to,” he stammered. “In which case—of course, I’ll leave you alone—”

Her heart did a strange somersault, and it felt like it fractured inside her chest.

“Draco, I’m not doing this to find an excuse to back out. I just—I worry if I don’t prepare for other possibilities.

What if we break up and I don’t have any other options lined up, especially with graduation around the corner? What if you wanted to end things but felt trapped because—” She gestured helplessly around them.

“I don’t want you to feel stuck, just because you liked me at one point. Us dating shouldn’t be an ultimatum.

I don’t want to assume or be short-sighted just because I’m feeling emotional. You know?”

Draco sighed, looking away sharply.

“I know. Rationally, I get it.

I understand why you feel that way. But—biologically, I—you don’t—” He paused for several seconds, rolling his jaw as if trying to find the right words.

Frustration bubbled within him. “I can’t explain this right now.

I need a walk.” He stalked out of the room without another word. Hermione stood there, uncertain, staring at the door for a moment before pulling out the Marauder's Map.

She just wanted to make sure he was alright. Watching as he wandered aimlessly through the castle, her heart sank.

Then, her mouth pursed in concern, she saw him run into Daphne Greengrass. The two dots on the map paused, separated, and then moved closer together again.

Hermione held her breath, waiting for them to part ways, but after a minute, they turned and headed toward the dungeons, disappearing into the Slytherin common room. Staring at the map in disbelief, Hermione watched as Draco’s name faded among all the other Slytherins.

Names flickered across the Marauder's Map, appearing and disappearing among the other dots. At first, Hermione noticed them beside Daphne’s name, but as the minutes passed, they increasingly clustered next to Astoria’s.

After half an hour, frustration bubbled up within her. She threw the map across the room and began angrily stuffing her remaining homework into her satchel.

"It’s probably nothing," she muttered to herself. "It’s nothing." There was a party in the Slytherin common room.

It was a Saturday night. Of course, Draco would go.

There was no reason to be upset or worried, even after their little argument—the one where he’d stormed out and walked right into the arms of a girl who had been pursuing him all year. Hermione felt a burning sensation in her stomach and swallowed hard.

Really, who did Daphne and Astoria Greengrass think they were? Her fingertips sparked slightly as she ran her fingers through her hair.

Maybe she should go down to the dungeons. No, that wasn’t the answer.

Draco liked her, which was why he was upset. He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t be swayed by them.

So, there was no reason to dwell on it. He just needed space.

Following him would be clingy. Omega-ish.

She wasn’t about to chase after a boy who had walked away from her. He’d come back.

Hugging herself tightly, she considered spending some time in the Gryffindor common room. She hadn’t been there much since she and Draco started dating.

Maybe she could catch up with her friends, too. She glanced at the door, hesitating.

He might come back. They had planned to spend the evening together, especially since they hadn’t seen each other in three days.

She’d had Astronomy one night, followed by rounds the next, and then Draco had Astronomy, too. They had wrapped up most of their homework early Saturday, just so they could enjoy a long evening together without worrying about any final assignments.

Then she had ruined it by crying and leaving her questionnaire from St Mungo’s out. He’d probably come back.

After a little while, Hermione curled up tightly in her bed, flipping through her Transfiguration textbook for the upcoming semester. Her eyelids grew heavy, and well past midnight, the door clicked open.

She looked up sharply as Draco stepped inside. His hair was tousled, and the top button of his shirt was undone.

He wore a relaxed expression, and Hermione found herself speechless. “Sorry.

Christmas party in the Slytherin common room—I completely forgot about it,” Draco said, making his way over to the bed with careful steps. “You didn’t need to wait up.”

A small smile tugged at Hermione's lips.

She chose not to mention that she couldn’t sleep without him. Instead, she closed her book and set it aside.

Draco looked a bit unsteady. She’d never seen him drunk before, but his expression, the way he walked, and the overly precise way he spoke told her everything she needed to know.

He dropped heavily onto the bed without bothering to remove his robes. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he pulled her close, as if she were a pillow, and buried his face in her shoulder.

“Damn, you smell amazing. No one smells as good as you.

I hate peaches,” he murmured. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Smelling a lot of witches tonight?”

“It’s hard not to—at a Christmas party,” he muttered against her skin. “Oh.” She pictured the mistletoe-laden Slytherin common room, her heart racing.

Resting a hand on his shoulder, she leaned in to sniff at him discreetly. He mostly smelled like firewhisky, and thankfully, there was no trace of perfume.

At least not in his hair, but her nose wasn’t nearly as keen as his. Still, she caught a whiff of something that made her frown.

“Draco—did you go outside?” 

“Hmmm?” He sounded like he was dozing off. “Mhmm.

On the way back. I needed to post something.”

“You went to the Owlery past curfew?” Her astonishment was evident.

“Owls are nocturnal, Granger,” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Draco's voice was thick with slurring as he spoke.

“I wasn’t alone. Blaise, Daph, and Astoria came with me.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Daphne was trying to wrangle an invitation for herself and Astoria to Malfoy Manor during the holidays.”

The mention of Malfoy Manor made Hermione's stomach drop. “Oh.” 

She had intended to ask him about staying with her during her heat, but the words had eluded her.

She kept telling herself she would bring it up, yet it always seemed to slip through her fingers. The evening he left had been her opportunity, but instead, she had avoided the topic entirely.

She trusted Draco and liked him, but the memory of her last heat still felt fresh and raw. The emotional turmoil that followed had left scars that were slow to heal.

Lately, the urge to soulbond had turned into an obsession. She understood it was biological, but her emotions didn’t listen to reason.

During the past week, she had bitten her tongue repeatedly, stifling the urge to ask him—urge him—beg him to bite her. A part of her was intensely focused on that possibility, as if everything wrong in her life would dissolve with a single bite.

If he marked her now and again during her heat, she believed nothing bad would ever touch her again. No matter how much she tried to argue against it, her mind was fixated on this idea at a deep, unshakeable level.

The thought of entering heat and emerging still unbound felt like clawing at a raw nerve. She remembered going through it in March, then again in June.

She didn’t want to face it again. Even if it might be better this time, even if Draco wouldn’t disappear afterward.

She simply didn’t want to go through that cycle once more. She could feel her body preparing for it, hormones surging.

Her curves, already becoming difficult to manage, had only intensified; she had even gone up a cup size in the past week. Draco had started to watch her closely, and she could sense the shift in the air around them.

Draco walked beside her through the castle like an ominous bodyguard, while Theo, Neville, and the other Alphas kept their distance. She could feel their eyes darken the moment she stepped into a classroom.

It wasn’t the dazed look anymore; it was hunger. Her heat was approaching, and her body was signaling it aggressively to any nearby Alphas.

If it weren’t for Draco, she would likely need to be quarantined already. Draco had transformed significantly; he had grown taller and more muscular.

The lean, pointy frame he once had was gone. Now, he stood nearly a foot and a half taller than her, his physique resembling that of a barn door—solid and imposing.

Compared to him, Neville looked thin and almost malnourished, and the Beta males seemed worryingly small to Hermione. None of her books mentioned secondary Alpha growth spurts, but she suspected it was linked to their relationship.

They were not bound yet, and his magi-biology seemed intent on enhancing his traits. She wondered, if they delayed bonding indefinitely, would he just keep growing while she became curvier?

The unpredictable nature of Alpha-Omega dynamics felt like something best left untested. Hermione believed that was a rational conclusion.

Yet, her subconscious quickly shifted from her scientific and ethical concerns to a more primal thought: “Bite me, bite me, bite me, Alpha.” 

They had only been dating for a month—a mere month. She kept reminding herself of that.

Just a year ago, they had been on opposite sides in a war. It felt hormonal and immature to even consider soulbonding after such a short time.

So, they couldn’t. They hadn’t discussed it.

They had focused on school and getting to know each other, and they hadn’t even talked about her heat. Hermione felt the weight of her impending heat, and Draco had yet to mention anything about his plans during that time.

Surely, he must be aware of her situation. He wouldn't choose to spend the Christmas holidays at Malfoy Manor with the Greengrasses, would he?

He liked her, and biologically, it seemed impossible for him to want to be anywhere else but by her side. Perhaps he was just waiting for her to bring it up.

Biting her lip, she hesitated, then closed her eyes. She could do this.

She could ask her boyfriend about his holiday plans. It was a perfectly reasonable question.

After all, she was a Gryffindor, and this was one of the least intimidating things she had ever attempted. Suddenly, her eyes flew open as it struck her: in that moment, her greatest fear was the thought of Draco breaking up with her.

“Draco, are you staying at Hogwarts for the holidays?” she blurted out. Silence enveloped the room, stretching on painfully.

It felt like her heart had stopped. Draco didn’t respond.

“Draco?” she called again, tilting her head to catch a glimpse of his expression. To her surprise, he was asleep.

A small gasp escaped her lips. “Draco?” Still nothing.

“Draco—I need to ask you something. Draco?” She gently shook his shoulder and brushed her fingers against his face, but he remained unresponsive.

After trying to wake him two more times, she finally gave up. Withdrawing her hand, she stared at the ceiling, her heart still racing.

Given how drunk he had been, discussing this in the morning might not be the best idea. Maybe she could find a moment after lunch to ask him in private.

She had promised to study Transfiguration with Ginny that afternoon, but perhaps the conversation with Draco wouldn’t take long. Alternatively, she could wait until evening.

She promised herself she would ask him tomorrow, either in the afternoon or later that night. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she savored the warmth radiating from him through his clothes.

When she woke up, Draco was still asleep, and she knew there would be no intimacy that morning. He had been far too drunk the night before.

Hermione couldn’t shake the feeling that Draco was going to wake up with a massive hangover, considering how heavily he’d slept. She quietly slipped out from under him and took a quick shower.

Once dressed, she returned to the bedroom and found Draco half-awake, his arm draped over his eyes. “Do you need me to get a hangover potion for you?” she asked from across the room.

He turned his head slightly. “I’ll get one from Blaise.

I forgot last night.” He peeked out from beneath his forearm. “You’re heading out?” His voice was thick and scratchy.

Hermione conjured a glass of water and set it on the table next to him. “I have some things to put in the post,” she replied, avoiding his gaze.

She noticed his jaw twitch. “I’ve also got a couple of books due at the library.

I figured I should return them early so the next person in line can pick them up today.”

“Sorry—I’m not up for anything this morning. I’ll catch you later.” He shifted slightly and grimaced.

“If you’ll wait, I’ll get up in a minute.”

Hermione shook her head. “Don’t.

I’m fine. I’ll see you at breakfast or afterward.

I’m studying with Ginny this afternoon, I think I mentioned it.”

He moved his head in acknowledgment. Hermione licked her lips.

“I’ll see you later then.” She turned on her heel and left the room. As she walked, her eyes prickled with unexpected tears, and she didn’t even know why.

Bloody hormones. She hurried to the Owlery.

While sending off her post with the school owls, she noticed that Draco’s eagle owl was missing. If it hadn’t returned, that meant the letter Draco had sent had probably gone to Malfoy Manor.

With a sigh, she turned away and headed to the library. Upon reaching the Great Hall, she spotted Draco already seated at the Slytherin table with Blaise, Theo, Pansy, and Daphne.

Her jaw twitched in irritation, and she quickly made her way to the Gryffindor table where Ginny was already sitting, looking blurry-eyed. “You missed the Christmas party at a

"Gryffindor," Hermione said, blinking in surprise.

"Oh, that was last night too."

Ginny nodded enthusiastically. "Last Saturday before the holidays.

Can you believe it? Seamus convinced me to try some vile concoction after we sent the younger years to bed.

Honestly, I’m not sure what was real and what I hallucinated. I think someone conjured a lion, but I’m still questioning that."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, deliberately avoiding a glance at the Slytherin table.

"Sounds like I missed quite the party."

"Were you at the Slytherin party?" Ginny asked, glancing over before putting down her knife and focusing her full attention on Hermione. "No.

I was doing homework. I wasn’t really in the mood for something social last night."

"Right.

You’re coming up on your—" Ginny raised her eyebrows meaningfully. Hermione nodded.

"That’s got to be rough. Well, I mean, Neville can’t even look at you right now.

And am I imagining things, or has Malfoy gotten bulkier in the last week? I've never seen anything like it.

He looks like he could take down a centaur with his bare hands."

Ginny cast an appreciative glance toward Slytherin, and Hermione felt her grip on her spoon tighten, her jaw twitching. She couldn’t help but remember the time she had bitten Ginny in the hospital wing.

She blinked, trying to focus. "I thought you didn’t like Draco," she said, her voice tense.

"Disliking him and noticing that he looks like a character on the cover of a romance novel are not mutually exclusive," Ginny replied with a playful tone. "Besides, Malfoy’s not the only one bursting at the seams.

Are you paying your blouse buttons overtime?"

Hermione looked down, realizing that the buttons over her bust did indeed seem ready to pop off. She hastily pulled her robes closed, swallowing hard.

"I think it’s related to me. Since we’re not bound, my theory is that the magic is amplifying, trying to increase the biological imperative."

Ginny’s eyes widened.

“Oh God. So, does that mean...?”

Hermione stared down at her oatmeal.

“I don’t know. I was going to bring it up to Draco last night, but we ended up fighting, and he walked out.”

Ginny fell silent for a moment.

“Did you break up?” she asked gently. Hermione's throat tightened.

“No. He came back five hours later, really drunk from the Slytherin Christmas party.

He was hungover this morning. So, I think I’ll talk to him later today.”

“Ah.

Do you want to cancel this afternoon? I’ve got this Transfiguration stuff; you don’t need to.”

“No, it’s fine.

It’s been on my schedule for the weekend, so he probably has his own plans. I’ll catch him before or after.”

Hermione’s gaze drifted back to the Slytherin table, where Draco was seated next to Daphne.

Suddenly, she lost her appetite for breakfast and glared across the room until she felt her hair crackle with frustration. “Hermione.”

“Hermione.” 

Ginny poked her on the shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts.

“What?”

“Are you alright? You look like you’re trying to burn a hole in Daphne Greengrass’ head.”

Hermione glanced back at the Great Hall.

“She’s sitting with Draco.”

Ginny snorted. “She is sitting next to Draco and Zabini.

Hermione, Malfoy is completely obsessed with you. He’s looked over at you like thirty times, and you haven’t even noticed because you’re glaring at Daphne.”

Ginny rested a hand on Hermione’s shoulder.

“I think you’re a bit hormonal right now, and it’s making you self-conscious. You should probably talk to Malfoy.”

“I am.

I’m going to.” Hermione suddenly felt parched and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. “Rationally, I get it—I know I’m being—” She took a sharp breath.

“There’s this part of me that feels like if that conversation doesn’t go well, I’m just going to lose it. I keep feeling like...”

"I just need to give myself more time to think about it, and I’ll be in a better place.

But instead, I’m just crying more and more," Hermione said, frustration creeping into her voice. "I think waiting is the wrong thing to do," Ginny replied.

"Really? I hadn’t considered that," Hermione shot back, her tone sharp.

Ginny fell silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "I can’t believe I’m the one saying this, but maybe you two should think about bonding this Christmas."

Hermione’s gaze snapped to Ginny, surprise etched on her face.

"Bonding? I don’t think you’re supposed to mess with the biology like that.

The fact that you aren’t bonding seems to be causing a lot of trouble. We’ve read everything we can about your situation.

There’s no precedent for a relationship like yours without bonding. No one has ever done that—anywhere, ever.

It can’t be healthy. I mean, I doubt you can wait until July for an ovariectomy.

I wouldn’t be surprised if St. Mungo’s knows that, which is why the application process takes so long."

The thought had crossed Hermione's mind, but hearing Ginny say it felt like a slap in the face.

She felt her lips twitch as she watched Daphne nudge Draco playfully. "We’ve only been dating a month, Ginny," Hermione said, imagining herself stabbing Daphne repeatedly with her fork.

"We haven’t even talked about bonding."

"Well, maybe you should," Ginny urged. "You two are playing with fire.

I don’t like Malfoy; I’d rather he not be your future spouse or whatever you decide to call him. But you’re clearly not interested in considering any other Alpha options, and ‘Don’t mess around with bonding magic’ is a pretty basic rule in the Wizarding world.

I’m sure Malfoy knows that, so he’s probably just waiting for you to come around or figure things out."

Hermione swallowed hard. "Maybe you’re right.

I—" Her thoughts trailed off as the room was suddenly filled with the sound of fluttering wings. Owls descended into the Great Hall, Draco’s eagle owl among them.

Draco soared down to the Slytherin table, carrying a large package. His eyes brightened, and he looked visibly eager as he fed his owl a sausage before removing a large envelope.

He flicked it open and quickly skimmed the contents, a smirk creeping across his face. He handed the letter to Daphne, whose expression lit up with excitement as she snatched the paper from him and began to read.

While Daphne was engrossed in the letter, Draco started unwrapping the package. It was carefully wrapped in several layers of heavy paper.

Hermione watched intently as he peeled away the final layer. Her heart raced so rapidly that she could barely hear anything around her.

Inside was a book—an absolutely stunning book. Even from across the hall, she could see it was gorgeous: dark green leather with gilded tooling across the cover that sparkled in the light.

Her fingers twitched with the desire to touch it. Draco opened the book and slowly flipped through several pages.

The way he handled it suggested that it was priceless. He seemed completely absorbed in its contents.

After several minutes, he closed it carefully and began showing it to everyone around him. Draco wore a smug expression, and the others admired the book—everyone except Daphne, who appeared speechless.

Daphne reached a tentative hand toward the book, and the air around Hermione seemed to vibrate with tension. But Daphne quickly withdrew her hand and continued to stare at it, her eyes wide.

Hermione let out a small sigh of relief. The book didn’t seem to be meant for Daphne.

Maybe—just maybe—it was a Christmas present for her. Not that she was making any assumptions, but it was possible.

A book would be the kind of gift Draco might give her, and usually, he told her when he wrote home for books. So, maybe.

Of course, she wasn’t assuming anything; perhaps he just needed an additional reference for an essay. Draco stood up from the table, a crooked grin on his face, picked up the book, and slipped it under his arm.

Since the owl had arrived, he hadn’t glanced in Hermione’s direction. Draco walked confidently down the Slytherin table, stopping just behind Astoria Greengrass.

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. He reached out, lightly touching Astoria on the shoulder.

She turned around and quickly stood to face him. With a smirk, Draco seemed to say something before pulling the book from under his arm and holding it out to her.

Astoria's eyes widened in wonder, mirroring the expression Daphne had shown earlier. Her hands flew up to cover her mouth, and it was clear she was on the brink of tears.

Draco blushed, smiling at her, and extended the book again. Astoria trembled with excitement, then suddenly leaped forward, throwing herself into his arms.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise as he gripped the book and caught her. For a moment, he looked uncertain, hesitating before wrapping his arm around her shoulders, a genuine grin spreading across his face.

Then, a loud cracking sound echoed through the hall, and all the glassware in the Great Hall shattered simultaneously.