All You Want Episode 32 - Harry Potter

 Hermione sees Draco hugging Astoria in the Great Hall, assumes the worst, and tries to break up while packing to leave their shared space. Draco stops her and explains the hug was about a Greengrass family blood curse and a book he lent from the Malfoy library, which defuses the misunderstanding and leads to tears, apologies, and a reset of trust. 

 As a Christmas surprise, Hermione takes Draco out into the snow with a Headmistress approved exemption to his flying ban and Ginny’s Firebolt, a gift that doubles as a promise to keep choosing each other. 

Transcript

**Chapter 32: My World Is Only You**

Everything in Hermione’s vision turned red. She found herself standing still, the only sound piercing the silence was her own breathing.

Draco glanced over sharply, his eyes locking onto hers. Her jaw trembled as she clenched her fists, struggling to suppress the overwhelming urge to set him and Astoria ablaze.

The tables and platters of food shook around her. Taking a deep breath, Hermione turned on her heel and bolted from the Great Hall.

The blood roared in her ears as she sprinted through the castle, racing back to her room. “Kismet!” she spat, the password slipping from her lips as she flung the door open.

She stormed across the room, gathering her belongings and tossing them into her trunk. To her astonishment, she wasn’t crying.

After a week of shedding tears over nearly everything, she was somehow calm in the face of something she would have expected to send her into a frenzy. Instead, clarity washed over her.

The scales had fallen from her eyes, and reality had reasserted itself—cold and clear as crystal. No more emotional, hormonal illusions.

She realized, with a sinking feeling, that she had been an idiot. A weepy, clingy, hormonal idiot.

That truth hit her with resounding clarity. She and Draco were always doomed.

No one believed they made sense together—neither her friends nor his. A few coincidences had led her to foolishly mistake their connection for something dreamy and predestined.

Of course it would feel that way; biology was designed to deceive, making it easy to give in, to let reason slip away. She had convinced herself that a co-dependent relationship, where she tied her magic and emotions to someone else, was healthy and romantic—ideal, even.

It had all been a trap, presenting a false narrative that led her to believe her biological dependency was not just bearable, but destined. Draco wasn’t just right for her; he was her soulmate.

Rubbish. All of it was rubbish.

There was no such thing as soulmates. It was just a fairy tale.

The tale painted the indignity and horror of her situation—being fundamentally a magical broodmare—as somewhat bearable. Who cared about self-determination when “destiny” came with so many pleasures?

She kicked her trunk and swore as she shoved a pile of books into it. Just then, the door clicked open, and she turned to find Draco standing behind her.

“What are you doing?” he asked, glancing past her at her half-packed trunk. The book he had was presumably left with Astoria.

“I’m going back to Gryffindor Tower,” she said, walking over to retrieve a pile of laundry she had kicked into the corner the day before. “I think that makes the most sense.”

“Hermione—”

She turned away from him.

“I don’t want to do this anymore. It was a mistake, I think.

I realized while I’ve been packing that this was a mistake. I don’t think—” She dropped her head, staring down at her shoes.

“I don’t think St. Mungo’s actually has any intention of approving me.

They’re probably just putting me off until I give up. So—I should probably just write to Charlie.

I don’t want to keep pretending that biological factors make this something that’s actually—” Her voice fractured slightly. “Real.”

She walked into the bathroom, grabbed her toothbrush, comb, and shampoo, and stuffed them into her box of suppressants.

When she turned to exit, Draco was blocking the door. He had gone from pale to grey.

“Hermione—Charlie Weasley. That’s—who you want.”

She couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement the way he said it.

Looking up at him, it felt like there was a cavern in her chest. “I don’t want to do this anymore.

It’s been getting harder and harder lately, and I don’t think I can take it anymore.”

She tried to get past him, but he filled the doorway. “Hermione—are you doing this because of what happened in the Great Hall?” 

She raised her eyes to meet his, feeling the cold weight of the moment settle around them.

The calm, crystal feeling inside her was slipping away, and she felt the sting of tears welling up. It was as if a bottomless pit had taken the place of her stomach.

“Well, that’s just the tip of the iceberg, isn’t it?” she said coldly. “Are the Greengrasses your backup option?

You were annoyed about St. Mungo’s, so you went off and arranged things for yourself—preemptively?” Her voice wavered slightly at the end.

Draco looked bewildered. “What?

No. Hermione, Astoria hugged me—"

“I know!” She tried to elbow her way past him, but Draco stood firm.

She huffed and glared up at him. “I was watching.

I saw the whole thing from the moment your owl arrived.” She let out an angry laugh. “I admit, it does simplify things.

I’ve been trying to prepare for all these conversations with you, even though I can hardly think straight with all these hormones making me want to cry. And then you just left last night.

I thought you’d come back, but you didn’t. Not for hours.

And now—” She choked back a sob. “I don’t want to do this anymore.

I’m going back to Gryffindor Tower. Have fun with the Greengrass girls this Christmas.

They seem very eager to please you.” 

She attempted to push past him, but he grabbed the box from her hands and set it back on the counter. Then he took her by the shoulders, his eyes wide with concern.

“Hermione, don’t do this. Please, tell me what you’re talking about.

What’s too hard? Just tell me, and I’ll fix it.”

She glared at him, the image of him grinning and hugging Astoria burned into her mind.

“You gave Astoria a book and hugged her in front of the entire school. Daphne has been hounding you since the Hogwarts Express, and I’ve heard all about how she’s been trying to get herself and her sister invited to your house for the holidays.

It all seems pretty clear. Were you so drunk you just—”

“Forgot to break up with me last night?” Hermione’s voice dripped with disbelief.

Draco stared at her, astonished. “No.

I’m not ever going to break up with you, you idiot.”

Hermione twitched in response. “Oh, are you setting up a harem then?

Keeping an Omega on the side and a nice pureblood girl to take home for the holidays?”

Draco jerked slightly, his expression turning serious. “I’m not interested in the Greengrasses.

I don’t want a harem. And I’m not going anywhere for the holidays.

Now, please,” he said, tightening his grip on her shoulders, his voice trembling, “tell me what I need to do to fix this. Because if you break up with me, I may die of a broken heart.”

Hermione’s heart skipped a few beats.

She gasped softly before bursting into tears. “Then why are you giving books to other girls?” The question escaped her lips in a wail she hadn’t intended.

She stood in the middle of the bathroom, sobbing uncontrollably. “Oh god,” Draco murmured, pulling her into his arms and holding her tightly against his chest.

“Is that what this is about?”

It wasn’t entirely, but Hermione nodded anyway. Watching him give a book to Astoria Greengrass had felt like a gut-wrenching blow, as if she were being trampled to death.

Draco sighed, cradling her as she continued to weep into his robes. “I’m sorry.

I wasn’t thinking about how it would look to you. I didn’t give Astoria a book; I just lent her one from my family library.” 

He took a deep breath, holding her even tighter.

“The Greengrass family has a blood curse in their matrilineal line. Apparently, it’s been in the family for generations, but it rarely manifests.

Last year, symptoms started to appear in Astoria. Blood curses are a taboo among Pureblood families; many won’t even attempt to reverse one for fear of word getting out.

Daphne decided she didn’t care if trying to save her sister ruined their chances of marriage. Without telling her parents, she spent the entire summer soliciting…”

“Invitations to private libraries in hopes of finding information on how to break the curse on Astoria,” Draco said, clearing his throat.

“Daphne asked to see my family’s library during the summer, but—” His voice grew tight. “There was a misunderstanding between us that took some time to resolve.

Last night, at the Christmas party, Daphne told me about the specific book they’ve been trying to find. After the manor was searched over the summer, Blaise, Theo, and I spent most of our time reorganizing and reshelving the books in the library.

When Daphne explained why she wanted access to the Malfoy library, I realized there was a book at the manor they were looking for. I could ask my mother to send it.

That way, during Christmas break, they might find a curse breaker who can help Astoria.”

Hermione stood in his arms, blinking as she processed the information. “Daphne’s been chasing you around all year because she wanted to see your library?”

“My family’s library,” Draco emphasized, stressing the word ‘family.’ “But yes, that’s why she’s been hanging around me.”

Hermione furrowed her brows, mentally reviewing Draco’s recent interactions with Daphne.

“What—what misunderstanding did you have with her?”

Draco froze. “Please don’t ask me that, Hermione.

It’s possibly the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done. I’ll give you anything if you just don’t ask me to explain it.”

Hermione’s curiosity ignited as she looked up at him.

“You have to tell me. I’ve been getting so angry at her for always being around you.

I—” She ducked her head. “I almost set her on fire last week.”

Draco let go of Hermione and shuffled awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

He seemed concerned about the straightness of his shirt cuffs. The hollows of his cheeks turned scarlet as he avoided her gaze.

Standing so tall, his head was only an inch or two shy of the ceiling. Draco stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders nearly filling the frame.

As he absentmindedly brushed off imaginary dust from his robes, Hermione was struck again by how he was just a very large eighteen-year-old. The thought made her want to curl up in his arms and kiss him.

He coughed, a deep blush creeping across his cheeks. “Daphne—Daphne wrote me a letter over the summer,” he began, his voice wavering.

“She asked to see my library and mentioned how large she’d heard it was. And, um—” He choked slightly, clearly uncomfortable.

“Considering it’s my family’s library, I never thought of it that way, so I—” He cleared his throat, looking like he wished he could disappear. “I thought she was using the term ‘library’ as a, um, a strange euphemism for my—” He waved a hand awkwardly in a vague direction, his face growing even redder.

“I wasn’t interested in Daphne, so whenever she sat next to me talking about libraries, I’d just—run away.”

Hermione felt a wave of relief wash over her, almost hysterical. “You mean—” The memory of Draco’s horrified expression when he had flung himself into her train compartment flashed through her mind, and she couldn’t help but snort with laughter, clapping her hands over her mouth.

Her body shook with mirth, and it felt like her lungs might burst as she fought to keep from laughing. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her hands away, staring up at him incredulously.

“All this time, you thought Daphne wanted a go at your etchings, but she really just wanted to visit your family library?”

Draco shook his head, looking bewildered. “Not etchings, you see.

When she said ‘my library,’ I thought it was a euphemism for my—my—”

Hermione couldn’t hold back any longer. She threw her head back and howled with laughter, the sound echoing around them.

It was so intense that she soon found herself gasping for breath, tears streaming down her face. She laughed until she cried, feeling a mix of relief and joy.

Draco watched her, laughing nervously whenever their eyes met, both caught up in the absurdity of the moment. He swallowed hard and watched as Hermione doubled over, sinking to the floor in laughter.

After three months of loathing Daphne with an ever-growing intensity, it turned out Daphne had simply been after a library book. Finally, Hermione managed to catch her breath, her lungs burning and hiccups escaping her.

“So—” Draco's tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of nervousness. “Are you still going to leave?” 

Hermione shook her head, rubbing her face as heat crept into her cheeks.

She looked away, avoiding his gaze. “I thought, after you left last night, that maybe you had gone to invite the Greengrasses to your manor for the holidays, to get back at me for interviewing at St Mungo’s.”

Draco dropped to the floor beside her with a growl.

“I am not going anywhere during the holidays. Why would you think that?” 

Her Omega instincts kicked in, making her skitter nervously.

Hermione fought the urge to collapse on the bathroom floor and beg for forgiveness. She hunched her shoulders, glancing away as her throat tightened.

She tried to focus on her feelings, resisting the shift they were undergoing. “You left.

We were talking about St Mungo’s, and you got upset and just walked away. I waited for you, but you didn’t come back.

Then, when you did return, all you told me was that you went to the owlery with the Greengrasses. So—”

Draco made a sound of disbelief.

“You could have asked if that’s what you thought.”

Hermione twitched. “I did, but you were asleep.

I was going to ask you today, but then the post came.”

Draco buried his face in his hands. “With the amount of miscommunication I have with people, I question whether I’m speaking the right language.” He dropped his hands to his lap and sighed, his expression tense.

“I don’t know how to talk about St Mungo’s. Lately, the biological aspects have been… harder to manage.

Every time St Mungo’s comes up, and I think about you going through with it—” He cut off, his jaw tightening. “Biologically, I don’t know how to process this.

Rationally, I understand, but instinctively, it feels like you’re endangered—that I’m losing you and I need to—” Hermione’s glands tingled, and she pressed her knees together. Draco hesitated, tilting his head back.

“What we’re doing—there isn’t really a way to process it biologically. I can handle it most of the time, but sometimes… I don’t think I should test the limits of my self-control.

The way you talk about it makes me feel like if I make a mistake, you’re going to go sterilize yourself or owl Charlie Weasley. Which—” His voice tightened.

“—is apparently a valid concern for me to have.”

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as her stomach dropped. “I didn’t mean for it to come across like that.

I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant.

When I mentioned Charlie, it’s just… this thing between us is so intense that I don’t always know how to handle it. I’m trying not to make this relationship feel like it’s some kind of stake.

That’s why I told you about St Mungo’s—so you wouldn’t feel trapped, like you couldn’t get out even if you wanted to, because I’m planning my whole future around you.”

She swallowed, and silence hung in the air for several seconds. “Granger”—Draco reverted to her surname whenever he was frustrated—“I’m not ever going to break up with you.

Good grief.” He scoffed. “I’m in love with you.” 

He let out a short laugh.

“I didn’t intend to say this to you in a bathroom, but every time I’m about to say it, you start going on and on about how we’ve only been dating for a week or a fortnight or a month, and it’s probably all biology, and we’ll probably break up. I’m tired of not saying it.

I’m in love with you. If you sterilize yourself, I will still be in love with you.

If you choose Charlie Weasley or anyone else instead…”

“I—I will probably never get over it, and I will still be in love with you.” Hermione’s fingers twitched nervously. Her heart raced, beating so fast it felt like it was thrumming.

She wanted to leap into his arms but forced herself to stay still. “Are you sure?” she asked, searching his eyes.

“Yes.” His tone was clipped and a bit icy, making her wilt inside. “I’m fairly certain about this.

Is this really news to you? Can’t you tell?”

Hermione felt her ears heat up.

“Well,” she stammered, “it’s hard to be sure about anything because of the biology.”

Draco’s expression flickered, hardening as he looked away. “That’s why I didn’t say it sooner.

I figured it wouldn’t really matter. Do you want to know how I know I’m not in love with you because of biology?

If I were just following my biological instincts, I would have bitten you back in September or October, or any day since then. Every time I look at you, I want to bite you to stop worrying that I’m going to mess up and lose you.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open, and she gasped.

Her body started to throb with longing, making it hard for her to resist the urge to reach out to him. Alpha.

Please. He looked away, scowling.

“But I won’t. What you want is more important to me than keeping you.” 

Bite me.

Please, Alpha. Hermione swallowed a whimper as he stood up abruptly.

“I’m not expecting you to say it back. I’m not asking you to change your mind or to accept being an Omega just because I said it.

I’m telling you this so you’ll stop doing things and saying you’re doing it for me. I don’t want an exit, so stop saying it’s because of me.

It’s just stressing me to death.” 

He looked like he was ready to take down a centaur with his bare hands. Hermione bit her lip, feeling the weight of his words.

Her throat felt tight, and she struggled against the overwhelming urge to climb into his arms and beg him to bite her. "Alpha.

Alpha, please." She squashed the impulse viciously and took a deep, shivery breath, curling her hands into tight fists. “I just—I want to be responsible.

Lately, I’ve been so emotional, and the biology is getting so intense that it’s hard to think straight. This is our whole life we’re talking about, Draco.

What if it’s all just—”

“If you say ‘biology’ one more time, I’m going to lose my mind,” Draco interrupted, his voice vibrating with frustration. Hermione pressed her lips together and fell silent.

He let out a low sigh and leaned his head against the doorframe. “What exactly do you want?

What are you waiting for that will somehow make you feel sure?” 

Hermione shuffled her feet and awkwardly began straightening her bottles of suppressants. “I don’t know.

I’m not—I'm not very good at emotional things.”

Draco was silent for a long moment. “Right,” he finally said.

“Well, let me know if you ever are.”

“‘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 waiting for you to come around or whatever it is you’re still working through.” 

Hermione hesitated, her heart starting to pound.

“Draco, are you—going to be with me during my heat?” 

He stiffened, but when he looked up at her, his expression was carefully closed. “If you want me to be.”

She felt as though her heart was in her throat, choking her.

“Do you want to be?”

He gave an incredulous laugh. “Of course.

Hermione, did you think I wouldn’t?”

She swallowed hard, gripping her wrists tightly. “I know how it works biologically, but emotionally, I’m—I have trouble feeling sure.

I don’t want you to feel like I’m clingy or that you have to be if you don’t—”

“Hermione—” Draco shook his head. Draco stared at her, looking as if he were slightly confounded.

“Are you really under the impression that you're the clingy one in this relationship?” 

Hermione choked back tears. “All the books say Omegas are so needy.

I’m trying so hard not to—”

Draco thudded his forehead against the doorframe, the impact making the room tremble. “Fuck my life.

Just when I think we can’t possibly misunderstand each other anymore—” He seemed to be talking to himself for a moment. Then he turned to look her straight in the eye.

“I’m the clingy one. You can ask anyone in the castle.

I follow you around like a puppy. I can’t stop touching you.

When I’m not with you, I can barely think of anything that doesn’t involve you. Please, for the love of Magic, be as clingy as you want.

I would love it. The fact that you generally aren’t is incredibly unhelpful.” 

He let out a frustrated hiss and grabbed her wrist.

“I’m tired of having this conversation in a bathroom.” He pulled her out, past the couch and her trunk, and over to the bed. He picked her up and settled down with her on his lap, pulling her close against his chest in a long, comforting hug, burying his face in her shoulder and through her hair.

Hermione sat quietly for several minutes, but then furrowed her brows. “I thought we were talking.”

He lifted his head and looked down at her.

“Well, actually, I don’t want to talk right now. You tried to break up with me.

I know I seem stoic, but I’m really not over that.” His voice was thick with emotion. He held her tightly, and she could feel his heart racing against her.

Guilt twisted in her stomach, and she nuzzled closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and tangling her fingers in his hair. “I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry, Draco. I shouldn’t have done that.

I overreacted and made assumptions. I didn’t even give you a chance…”

"To explain," Draco said, his voice filled with frustration.

"Ginny just told me I was being insecure, and then I saw you hug Astoria, and I lost my head and blew everything up." He tightened his grip around her. "It’s not exactly fine, but I’ll get over it.

Just promise me, if you ever think about breaking up with me again, give me at least an hour-long conversation to explain myself."

Hermione's heart ached at his words. "I will, I promise.

I’m so sorry." 

They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity until Hermione turned her head and pressed a gentle kiss against the side of his neck. Then another, and another.

She shifted slightly in his embrace, straddling his lap, and kissed further up his neck and behind his ear, running her fingers through his hair. He tilted his head back to look at her, an eyebrow raised.

"Something you wanted?" he asked, a teasing glint in his eyes. Hermione froze for a moment.

"No," she said, pulling back slightly. "No."

He let out a small snort.

"I’m not. I was just kissing you.

I wasn’t trying to start anything." He glanced at the clock. "It’s been over fourteen hours."

"So?

That’s fine," she replied, though her voice wavered slightly, betraying her. Her body was achingly sensitive.

"I’m fine."

"Are you?" His voice dropped an octave, sending shivers through her. Heat bloomed in her lower abdomen, and she let out a low gasp.

"I was. You can’t just—"

Draco's hand slid along her thigh, and her words faded into a whimper.

"I can’t what? Were you saying something?" His fingers reached the apex of her thighs, pressing firmly against her.

Hermione bit her lip. "I’m fine.

We don’t—I was just kissing you."

In an instant, he shifted her so she was lying on the mattress, with him looming over her. "Hermione, are you really thinking that I, an eighteen-year-old Alpha, wouldn’t want to have sex right now?"

Draco's ears grew warm.

“Well, when you say it like that... I just thought we were cuddling.

I wasn’t trying to ruin it.” He smirked. “Those two things are hardly mutually exclusive.” 

He sank down until she was nearly pinned beneath him, burying his head in her neck.

His breath brushed against her skin, and she felt a rush of heat. She released a shaky breath and wrapped her legs around his hips, her mind slipping back into the moment.

“You’ll take care of me—during my heat?” she moaned as he dragged his tongue up her throat. “I’ll always take care of you,” he replied, kissing her softly.

“Always.” He kissed her again, and again, pulling at her clothes until she was completely bare. He kissed down her body.

“Don’t ask me to let you go. Don’t break up with me.

I’ll do whatever you want. Just tell me, and I’ll do it.

I swear.”

Hermione's mind cleared as she listened to him. She stiffened, catching him by the shoulder and pushing him back.

He moved quickly, rolling onto his back as she leaned across his chest, staring into his eyes. “Be yourself with me, Draco.

We’ve both been so worried about what the other might want, that neither of us is truly holding on. I think it’s messing us up more than anything.

Don’t let me go. I don’t want you to let me go.” 

It was more than an hour later when Hermione finally remembered there was a world outside their room.

“Oh God—” she moaned as Draco licked her wrist with such intensity that her entire body tensed around him, his knot deep inside her. “I’m supposed to be meeting with Ginny.” 

“I’m not letting you go.

I’m under orders,” he replied wryly, his tongue teasing her inner wrist. She snickered, then whimpered.

“We can’t just stay here forever. We have NEWTs to study for.

You’ll probably get sick of me next week.” 

“I’m rich. I can actually afford to just spend time with you.”

“Forever.

I’ll make a career out of it.” She let out a snort, trying to push aside how tempting that idea sounded. “I’ll add it to my list of career options.” She squirmed a bit, confirming that she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“I really do need to go, whenever you can—shrink a bit.” 

“It’s not like I control it,” Draco replied, rolling his eyes. Then he looked at her thoughtfully.

“However, speaking of size—would you agree that I’ve grown recently?” 

Hermione glanced down at him, lying beneath her. He somehow appeared even larger in the nude.

“Yes.” She traced her fingertips along the contours of his chest. “I think—well, my theory is that it’s because of me.

Since we haven’t bonded yet, it’s causing the presentations to repeat themselves slightly.” 

He nodded, his silver eyes serious. “That’s what I thought.

I was curious if you had any other theories. You are getting quite—” His gaze dropped to her breasts.

“I think your curves may be the death of me.” 

Hermione snorted. “I never thought I’d need to learn tailoring charms.

At least robes are voluminous. Although you might need to write to Madam Malkin for new ones.

Ginny was ogling you today.” 

Draco’s expression turned smug. “Really?

I’m definitely going to rub that in Potter’s face someday.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You’re such a prat.” 

He smirked, looking all too pleased with himself.

“You only just realized that?” 

Hermione shrugged and shot him a cheeky grin. “I thought maybe your pratishness would have disappeared with this presentation.” 

He rolled his eyes.

“I had a growth spurt, not a lobotomy; certain traits are set in stone.” 

Hermione suddenly remembered she was half an hour late for her study session with Ginny. “So—let me guess, you were busy having explosive, angry sex that shook the castle walls, and that’s why you’re late?” Ginny said, glancing at Hermione as she dropped into the chair beside her.

“We had another misunderstanding,” Hermione admitted. Hermione's face turned scarlet.

“But it’s cleared up now, I think.” 

Ginny tossed her quill down and turned to stare at her. “Did you talk about bonding?”

Avoiding Ginny's gaze, Hermione rummaged through her bag for her Transfiguration textbook.

“No. Ginny, I can’t just propose soulbonding with him on one week’s notice.” Her voice was tight.

“He said he’s in love with me today, and I haven’t even said it back yet.” She nodded firmly. “There’s supposed to be a certain progression in relationships.”

Ginny snorted and shook her head, her red hair falling across her eyes.

“I think whatever that ‘certain progression’ was supposed to be, it got thrown out the window when you two spent a week shagging each other before you’d even exchanged more than a dozen civil words.”

She combed her hair out of her eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Hermione, your entire relationship has been backwards.

You started with a heat, jumped into an exclusive sexual relationship, and then started dating. By now, you might even qualify as friends.”

Ginny rolled her eyes.

“You should probably tell him you love him back, assuming you do. That’s really not something you can wait on forever.”

Hermione looked away.

“I’ve never said it to anyone. He didn’t even say it romantically.

He was annoyed at me and just announced it.”

Ginny rolled her eyes again. “I’m pretty sure that almost anytime someone announces they’re in love, it’s considered romantic.”

“I’m sure there are some exceptions,” Hermione muttered, still rummaging through her school bag for a quill.

Ginny sighed. “I’ve got to say, watching you awkwardly date Malfoy makes me wonder why I ever came to you for relationship advice.

You’re terrible at this. It’s a wonder Harry and I got together.”

“I gave you good advice.” Hermione glared at Ginny from the corner of her eye as she flipped to the correct chapter of her book.

“I know,” Ginny said, twirling her hair around her fingers. “That’s...”

“Why are you making this so complicated for yourself?” Ginny buried her face in her hands for a moment before looking up.

“Hermione, if it were someone else, what would you advise them to do?”

Hermione swallowed hard and licked her lips. “Let’s just focus on Transfiguration.

We can worry about my relationship advice later.”

Ginny let out a dramatic sigh and snapped her book shut with a loud thump. “No.

Go away. I don’t want your help.”

Hermione stared at Ginny, bewildered.

Ginny waved her hand dismissively. “Go on.

Deal with your relationship issues. My Transfiguration grade is not an excuse for you to blow up another room full of glassware and crack two tables.

Thanks for that, by the way. It was a blast to clean up.”

Hermione's gaze fell to the floor.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“I know. I know,” Ginny interrupted, waving her hand again.

“Your upcoming heat is making your magic spike. I get how it works.

Just do me a favor and don’t let it happen again. Go tell Malfoy you love him, ask him to soulbond, and say you want to have his babies.

I guarantee he’ll be absolutely thrilled.”

“Ginny—” Hermione squirmed, drawing a shuddering breath as she tried to push the thought of that conversation with Draco out of her mind. Maybe he would bite her then.

“It’s really not that simple—”

“Do you not want to have his babies someday?” Ginny pressed. Hermione felt her cheeks flush, and she swallowed thickly.

“That’s… really a completely different—”

“No, it’s not. Not with Alphas.

Not with you. And you know this because you’ve read all the same books I have.

Stop trying to treat this like an arithmancy assignment. You need to trust your magic on this.

But you know what? Fine.

Don’t say you want to have his babies. Just go tell him you love him, because I’m pretty sure he’s the only person in the school who isn’t sure about it—especially after this.”

“Trust me, everyone knows, and we all think you’re both idiots.” Hermione swallowed hard and stared at her feet.

“Fine. You’re right.

I will. I’ll give him his Christmas present today, and then I’ll tell him.

That’s a good way to do it, right?”

Draco met Hermione in the entrance hall with a sulky expression. “Do we have to go outside?” he asked, his tone petulant as he approached her.

“Is this really necessary? It’s freezing!

If I think it’s cold, I know you’ll be cold too, and then I’ll have to give you my cloak. Then I’ll be the cold one.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and pulled him outside.

“I put on extra layers and used warming charms. It’ll be fine.

We never do anything but study and—well, you know. You need some exercise.

Look, it’s even snowing.”

“Shagging is exercise,” Draco replied as she tugged him along through the falling snow. Hermione snorted and shook her head.

“Oh, did you bring gloves? Good, I was worried you might not have.”

They were halfway to their destination when Draco suddenly stopped.

“Let’s go toward the lake,” he suggested, pulling at her hand. Hermione paused and looked back at him.

“Let’s go this way.”

His expression turned guarded. “Granger, let’s—not.”

Hermione tightened her grip on his hand.

“No. We have to go this way.

I’m going to tell you a secret that even Harry and Ron don’t know about, and you have to promise not to laugh.”

Draco hesitated for a moment, then followed her. “Fine.

What’s your secret?”

As they approached the Quidditch pitch, Hermione pulled him closer and slipped her hand around his arm. “I—actually never passed the practical for first-year flying.

I have… trouble with broom handling, so I couldn’t. I got Madam Hooch to let me write a twenty-eight-inch essay on the elements of Broomology instead, to show that I understand the theory, even if I couldn’t manage the practical exam.” She spoke rapidly.

“But—I’ve been thinking lately…”

“I realize now that was a mistake,” Hermione said. “I asked Headmistress McGonagall about a remedial class, but Madam Hooch doesn’t like flying in the winter, and Ginny’s overwhelmed with Head Duties and being Gryffindor’s Quidditch captain.

So, I needed to find an upperclassman who has flying experience and isn’t tied down with too many extracurricular commitments.”

Draco stopped walking, his expression unreadable as he stared at her. Hermione rushed on.

“Anyway, I thought maybe you might want to help. I have a permission slip from the Headmistress that gives you ten cumulative hours of exemption from your flying ban.” She pulled out the slip of paper and waved it in front of him.

“And Ginny lent me her broom—” She rummaged through her beaded bag, pulled out Ginny’s Firebolt, and held it up. “It’s really great.

Harry gave it to her this summer; I think it’s the latest model. So—anyway—happy Christmas, Draco.”

She watched him nervously, holding the broom out toward him.

Draco blinked in surprise. “You got me a ten-hour exemption from my flying ban so I can teach you how to fly?”

Hermione felt her cheeks heat up.

“No, I mean, yes, technically, but you don’t actually need to teach me. I don’t really want to learn.

I just thought you missed it a lot. You never go to the games anymore, so I thought maybe you’d like to fly again.”

“Granger—” she started, realizing she might have pushed too far.

Perhaps she should have asked him instead of springing it on him like this. It was clearly a sensitive topic for him.

“Do you—do you like it?” Draco suddenly pulled her closer and kissed her, causing her to drop the Firebolt.