All You Want Episode 33 - Harry Potter

 Out on the snowy pitch, Draco gives Hermione a flying lesson that turns into a raw talk about trust, biology, and the future. Hermione finally admits what she wants most: for Draco to bite her and make their bond real. They rush to the prefects’ bath, where heat and certainty collide and the night races toward a bite that will change everything. 

Transcript

**Chapter 33: I Feel Your Lips Move In**

Hermione sat huddled on a bench at the Quidditch pitch, watching as Draco kicked off and shot straight up into the sky until he was just a speck. He soared in figure eights and looped loops, then zoomed down, executing corkscrews and aerial somersaults—performing a dozen stunts that made her stomach flip just by watching.

She smiled to herself, pulled a book from her bag, and began to read, glancing up occasionally to see Draco whooping as he executed yet another dizzying maneuver. She couldn’t fathom how flying so fast could be enjoyable, but Draco’s face radiated thrill as he zipped around the Quidditch pitch, going faster and faster until he became a blur of black and platinum.

Eventually, she turned back to her book and continued reading until she heard a crunch. Looking up, she found Draco had landed a few feet away, his lashes and eyebrows dusted with ice crystals.

He looked like a character from a fantasy novel: tall, pale, and chiseled, etched with snow. “Right.

Flying basics. The first thing you need to do is become comfortable with flying,” he said.

Hermione stiffened, gripping her book tighter. “Draco, I really don’t want to learn to fly.”

“I know.

But I’m still going to teach you. I have nine hours and fifteen minutes left for the rest of the school year,” he replied, stepping closer, plucking the book from her hands, and sticking it into his cloak pocket.

Hermione pursed her lips sourly and crossed her arms. “Draco, brooms and I, we really don’t—”

“Come on, Hermione, where’s your Gryffindor spirit?

Come fly with me.”

“I know how to fly,” she shot back, arching her eyebrows and staring at him pointedly. “I’ve flown on Thestrals and a dragon.

I’ve even flown on brooms occasionally, but they—we don’t get along.”

“That’s because you distrust them. Brooms are like wands; you need to form a bond.”

“You have to get a sense of them, and let them get a sense of you.

Come on.” He pulled her closer. With a slight gesture, the Firebolt leaped into the air and landed in his hand.

He swung a leg over the broom and nodded at Hermione. “You sit in front of me.”

Hermione sighed and fidgeted.

“Draco… I really don’t want—”

“Hermione,” he said, locking his gaze with hers, an intensity that made her stomach flip. “I will die before I let anything happen to you.” He said it with such sincerity that she almost believed him, and it felt as if he expected that declaration to change everything.

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not a matter of doubting you; it’s a matter of trusting the broom.” She eyed the Firebolt with skepticism.

“It’s my magic.”

Her expression was stubborn, but eventually, she sighed and resigned herself to a flying lesson, climbing on. He was so tall that her toes barely touched the ground, forcing her to cross her ankles as she gripped the broom tightly.

“Don’t go high. If you do a corkscrew with me on board, I will hex you into next week.”

Draco chuckled softly, kicking off gently.

“No finals, and I jump straight to your heart; don’t tempt me.” She could hear the playful teasing in his voice, and she snorted in response. As Draco tipped the handle upward, they soared higher and began to pick up speed.

Hermione immediately tensed. “Don’t—” she gasped, squeezing her eyes shut.

Draco leaned forward, his chest pressing against her back, one hand firmly around her waist. “Granger, this cannot possibly be more frightening than riding a dragon.”

“Dragons are alive!

They won’t just drop out from under you. Maybe brooms are fine for you, but I’m telling you, they’re very, very finicky with me.”

Draco glided back down until they were just a few feet above the ground, skimming along the pitch.

He was quiet while Hermione clung tenaciously to her side of the broom handle. They flew around the pitch several times, her nerves slowly beginning to settle as she adjusted to the ride.

Draco broke the silence again. “You don’t do well with intuitive magic, do you?”

Hermione stiffened and shot a glare over her shoulder at him.

“I’m better at most magic than you.”

Draco snorted and accelerated slightly, causing her to squeak in surprise. “I’m aware, know-it-all.

I’ve shared Arithmancy, Potions, and DADA with you for seven years. You’re a menace in Potions and Arithmancy, and I’m sure you’re just as formidable in Ancient Runes and Transfiguration.

But in practical exams, I’m better at Charms and DADA than you are. Even Potter outperformed you in DADA.

He and I both have a natural affinity for flying.”

Hermione gave a begrudging nod. “I think the two are related.

You approach magic logically. Flying is intuitive.

You call the broom, and it comes. You intend for it to fly, and it does.

Defense magic is similarly intuitive. When you try to summon a broom, what are you thinking about?”

Hermione shrugged, rubbing her thumb along the smooth wood of the broom handle.

“The charm work, obviously. I think about how certain spells are used in the craftsmanship, and how my magic is supposed to integrate with and invoke them.

When I’m calling it, I’m reaching out with my magic, trying to make the broom an extension of myself. That’s why multiple people can fly in teams without worrying about their magic connecting to the wrong broom, because the second law of—”

“That’s why brooms are finicky with you,” Draco interrupted with a groan.

“You can’t approach reactive charm work like that. Magic reads intent.

When you overanalyze the why of the enchantments, it breaks down the charm work into distinct behaviors, and that makes it stop working cohesively. You have to treat it as a whole rather than in parts.”

“But I don’t know how to do that,” Hermione replied, her chin jerking down in frustration.

“I know that with certain branches of magic, it’s ideal to approach things intuitively, but I…”

“I don’t know how to understand things any other way. It’s easier for me to isolate and define each individual element and then piece it together to see how it all works as a whole.

If I don’t do it that way, I struggle to understand, and I don’t trust things I can’t grasp.”

Draco muttered something unintelligible under his breath. “What?” Hermione said, glancing over her shoulder.

Draco sighed. “Oh, I was just realizing that if you changed a few words, you could be talking about our relationship right now.”

“What?” Hermione bristled.

“That’s not true at all.”

Draco scoffed. “It’s almost exactly the same.”

“It isn’t.”

“Really?” His tone was dry.

“So you want to approach our relationship as a whole? You don’t break it down into the individual elements of our biology, our feelings, our aspirations for the future, and attribute everything about us to just one or two of those elements?

No, that doesn’t sound like you at all.” His words dripped with sarcasm. “You want everything neatly cataloged and divided so you can calculate which parts are essential and decide if what we have is really—” he let out a short sigh, “—legitimate or just a biological impulse you should dismiss and ignore.”

Hermione stared down at her hands.

“No. That’s not how it is.”

“How is it then?

Because every time I’m with you, I feel like you’re taking mental notes to deconstruct everything later. Is that inaccurate?”

Hermione opened her mouth but then closed it again, falling into a long silence.

She drew a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to do it any differently.

That’s just how I am. I just want to be—”

“Responsible.

I know.” 

Hermione scrambled off the broom and turned to face him, an ache spreading across her chest. “It’s just…”

“Sometimes I think it’s all real,” Hermione said, her voice trembling slightly.

“But then I have these moments when I look at it from a different angle, and I’m afraid I’ve gotten it all wrong.”

Draco straightened, fixing his gaze on her. “I know.

You nearly broke up with me a few hours ago because you thought I was seeing someone else.” He looked away, his expression distant. “I get it.

You need to feel sure. It’s fine.

I’m not going anywhere.” But the way he said it didn’t sound fine at all. He slung the broom over his shoulder and turned toward the castle, extending a hand toward her.

Hermione swallowed hard and wrapped her arms around herself. “I’m afraid if I get it wrong, I’ll ruin your life,” she confessed, her voice thick with emotion.

“The way all the books talk about soulbonding—what if it’s all just biology and none of it is real, and we’re stuck together? If you change your mind then, I won’t—there won’t be anything I can do to fix it.”

Draco froze, turning back to her, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Hermione,” he said patiently, “you may be the only person unaware…” He tilted his head slightly. “I’ve already ruined my life.”

The snow fell heavily around them as he gestured with a lazy wave of his hand.

“It’s fairly unanimous. I may have avoided Azkaban, but I’m destined to spend the rest of my life as an example of how the wrong choices can ruin everything.” He let out a short laugh that hung in the air like a cloud of smoke.

“Do you really think they sent me back to school with those grade requirements and long probation restrictions for no reason? To illustrate that, regardless of how well I do on my NEWTs, it won’t erase my past mistakes.

If they could have found a legal loophole to make my family destitute, they would have. The fact that my father will be released at the exact same time my probation finally expires only reinforces that.”

Draco's voice was heavy with frustration.

“It was intentional, you know. Aside from the exemptions McGonagall can grant while I’m a student, the Ministry has locked a collar around my neck.

They can drag me out whenever they please, and it just shows how completely ruined my life is.” He sighed, staring down at the ground, bitterness etched on his face. “I can joke about shagging you as a career, but that’s only because I have nothing else to do but make light of my future.

My mother hired a fantastic lawyer to defend me, and the last thing he did before I returned to school was explain in excruciating detail how ruined my life is. He warned me about how much worse it could get if I made any more mistakes.

Honestly, being here to protect you and make you happy feels like more of a contribution to the world than anyone expected from me at this point. So don’t worry about my life; worry about yours.”

He tilted his head back, gazing up at the sky.

Hermione hugged herself against the chill, feeling the warming charms begin to fade. She shuffled her feet and hunched her shoulders.

“That’s not how I see you, and it’s not how I see us,” she replied. “I want this to be a real relationship that we both chose.

I need to believe in that. I know I’m overthinking it, but I don’t know how to stop.

I don’t want to make the wrong choice just because I’m emotional, but the more I think about it, the more emotional I become. I don’t know how to trust what I want right now.

I’ve always trusted my mind, and now I feel lost.”

Draco studied her intently, his silver eyes making her breath catch and her heart race. “What do you want?” 

She tore her gaze away, confusion flooding her.

“What?”

“Forget overthinking or making the wrong choice. What’s the choice you want that you don’t trust?”

“The one I want?” she asked, her chest tightening as if she could barely breathe.

“Yes.” His voice was firm, and when he spoke, his teeth flashed in a way that made her heart skip. “If you could have…”

“Whatever you want, right now, forget about everyone else's feelings.

What is it that you truly desire the most?” Hermione swallowed hard and pressed her wrists together. “I don’t think I should say,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

Draco growled in frustration, and Hermione felt it ripple through her spine. “You’re not going to hurt my feelings,” he insisted.

“Just tell me what you want so I know what I’m trying to give you.” 

Hermione’s knees threatened to buckle as his commanding tone washed over her like a tidal wave. His eyes widened, and he reached out a hand.

“Damn it, Granger, I didn’t mean—”

“I want you to bite me,” she gasped. “I want you to bite me so much that I can barely think straight, because all I can think about is how I want to be yours and have you be mine.

I don’t want to worry about whether it’s the best choice; I just want it because it’s what I desire.” 

Draco’s eyes darkened, and his expression shifted to something lean and ravenous. Hermione was panting, her gaze dropping away from his.

“I know we’ve only been dating a month, and my heat is intensifying these feelings, but no matter how much I try to reason with myself, I want you to bite me. I want to soulbond with you.

I love you. The thought that this might just be a biological imperative between us makes my heart feel like it’s breaking.” 

She shivered, biting her lip and rubbing her wrists together in an attempt to steady herself.

As she blinked, Draco was suddenly right in front of her, Ginny’s broom abandoned in the snow. “Maybe you shouldn’t have told me that,” he said, just before his lips crashed into hers.

His mouth was burning hot, and she moaned against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her legs around his hips.

She kissed him fiercely, exhaustion from worry melting away. She wanted him.

She didn’t want to spend any more time thinking of reasons why she couldn’t have him forever. “I love you,” she murmured against his lips.

“Please, please, be mine. I love you.”

“I already am,” he replied, tangling a hand in her hair as he kissed her again.

“I love you too.”

They kissed until her fingertips ached with cold. She shivered in his arms, but still, she kept kissing him, repeating her love over and over again.

He finally drew back, concern etched on his face. “You’re freezing cold.

We need to go inside. I told you you’d get cold out here.”

She shook her head.

“My warming charms wore off. It’s fine.

W-we sh-should go in.”

Draco let her down and quickly removed his cloak, draping it around her. Then he added his scarf, hat, and gloves, and began to pull off his robes.

“This—this is enough, Draco,” she said, stopping him and fumbling to rebutton his robes with stiff fingers. “This is more than enough to get to the castle.”

He scowled.

“Let’s hurry before you freeze to death.”

“I’m not going to freeze,” she said through chattering teeth. “I’m just cold.”

He summoned the broom from the ground and wrapped an arm around her, towing her quickly through the snow and into the castle.

When they turned down an unexpected hallway, she halted. “Where are we going?”

“Prefect's bath,” Draco said, pulling her along.

“I had planned to do this after your heat, during the holidays, but you’re turning blue, so I’m doing it now.”

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief. “We—can’t go into the prefect's bath together!

That’s against the rules.”

Draco stopped and stared at her, his expression one of disdain. “Granger, practically everything we do when we aren’t doing homework is against the rules.”

That was a valid point.

“But it’s so—” she grasped for the right word, “cliché.”

Draco blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“In all the romance novels set in Hogwarts, the couple always sneaks into the prefect's bath at some point,” she admitted, turning red as she realized how silly it sounded.

Draco flashed a shark-like grin. “Do they now?

And you know this because—?”

“I’ve read a few,” Hermione mumbled, avoiding his gaze. “When I needed a break from school and from Harry and Ron, I’d sneak a romance novel from Parvati and Lavender.

They always seem to include the prefect’s bath.”

“Really.” His eyes sparkled with amusement as he guided her down the hallway toward the statue of Boris the Bewildered. “Sea cucumber,” he said, shaking his head as the door clicked open.

“I’m going to assume Longbottom is responsible for that choice.”

“How do you know the password?” Hermione asked suspiciously. “Pansy is getting an excellent grade on her next Potions essay,” he replied with a casual air.

Then he grimaced. “You’d think twelve years of friendship would count for something, but apparently not as much as an E in Potions.”

Draco pulled her into the bathroom and began casting several barrier spells and a bedazzlement hex on the door.

“There we go. So, what do these couples do once they’re in the prefect’s bath?”

Hermione stood there, shivering in two cloaks, two scarves, and two hats, yet her face felt unbearably warm.

“Bathe—there’s usually… bathing,” she managed to choke out. “Really?

That was the part I was unclear about,” Draco said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he started to remove his robes and jumper, twisting on several of the taps. Water and bubbles began to fill the bath rapidly while he kicked off his boots and began to slide off his trousers.

Hermione watched him with a mixture of awe and appreciation. He’d already been well over six feet at the start of the school year, but she suspected he’d grown another three or four inches in the last two weeks.

His shoulders were broad, his waist tapered, defined by muscles that seemed almost illegal. Sometimes, when she stared at him, she found it hard to believe he was real.

Maybe she had been poisoned and was currently in St. Mungo's, vividly hallucinating an eighth-year affair with an impossibly attractive Draco Malfoy.

He stopped undressing and stared at her. She swallowed thickly, wanting nothing more than to run her hands across his entire torso.

His mouth quirked into a smirk. “You’re supposed to take your clothes off too,” he said.

Hermione felt a rush of heat and fumbled with his cloak, her fingers cold and clumsy. She pushed off her own cloak and began peeling away the layers of jumpers she had piled on.

Draco stepped closer and helped her pull several over her head. “How did you still get cold?” he asked as she struggled to remove the undershirts beneath.

“Because the biology is ridiculous,” she replied through chattering teeth, quickly kicking off her jeans and knickers. “It’s typical with men and women anyway.

Girls usually have a warmer core temperature and a lower metabolism. It’s even more pronounced with Omegas because we’re...

sensitive. Oh god, I’m so cold!”

With that, she bolted into the bath and gasped as the warm water enveloped her up to her neck.

A deep moan of relief escaped her lips. “Ugh, this is perfect.” 

Cracking an eye open, she found Draco watching her, as if committing the sight to memory.

“Coming?” she asked playfully. He stepped in, then jerked his foot back with a hiss.

“The water is scalding. I think I’ll just watch.”

“No, it’s not!

It’s perfect. Come in.” She lowered her gaze, adding, “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Draco stared at her for several moments, then slowly lowered himself into the water, looking as though he were being boiled alive.

Another low hiss escaped him. “How are you able to enjoy this?”

Hermione moved through the water toward him.

“It feels amazing. Like I’m warming all the way through.”

His expression was sulky as he settled onto one of the benches in the bath.

“I feel like I’m being cooked. I think this is going to—”

“It's like having sex in the shower—way sexier when I imagine it,” Hermione chuckled.

“That was pretty funny. I’m not sure which of us drowned more.” Her voice softened into a sultry tone as she slid a leg across his lap to straddle him.

“I think bath sex could be even better.”

Draco's eyes sparkled with intrigue. “I’m skeptical, but I’m open to persuasion.” 

Hermione grinned and leaned closer, pressing her breasts against his chest.

“You seem well on your way to being persuaded,” she teased, slipping a hand beneath the water to caress him. “That has very little to do with this bath, and a lot to do with the fact that you’re sitting on me, naked and strategically covered in bubbles,” he replied, his voice a mix of amusement and desire.

“Well, I wouldn’t be naked with bubbles if it weren’t for the bath,” she said, slowly pumping her hand along him, lightly tracing her fingers over the tip until he reacted in her grasp. “Fine.

Valid point. You win.

I can’t think clearly when I’m being simultaneously seduced and cooked,” he groaned as she brushed her tongue lightly over the base of his throat. She edged closer, feeling him nestled between her legs, then kissed him softly before nuzzling against him.

“Draco Malfoy, I love you. I’m in love with you.

I want to spend the rest of my life with you. That’s probably going to annoy a lot of people, but I don’t care.”

His hands wrapped around her hips as he pressed his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” he said, his voice low and resonant, sending a shiver through her. “The rest of the world can go to hell.”

She laughed softly.

“It better not. If it did, Harry would definitely feel responsible for trying to save it, and I’d have to go with him, which means you’d have to come too.”

He groaned, realizing the truth in her words.

“You’re right. Never mind, the rest of the world cannot go to hell.

It’s strictly banned from it.” He kissed her again, his hands tightening around her waist. slid through the water along her body.

He gently touched her stomach and ran his fingers along her thighs. Slow, long strokes.

She gave a breathy gasp and kissed him as she pressed her body closer to his. He cradled the back of her head with one hand, drawing her head back and dropping teasing kisses down her neck until there was a painful coil of want in her lower abdomen.

His tongue darted out and flicked against the base of her throat, and she trembled. His other hand rose up in the water to cup her breast.

His fingertips stroked along the sensitive undersides and up towards her areolas until her nipples were aching to be touched. She gripped his shoulders and ran her thumbs against his glands.

“Alpha, please.” It came out as a low whimper. He caught her nipple between his thumb and forefinger and tugged at it sharply.

She gave a ragged gasp as the sensation laced straight through her. Her clit was throbbing.

She shifted her hips and ground against his cock. Draco made a low groan in the back of his throat, and his hand in her hair moved down into the water to catch and guide her hips as she moved against him.

He sat up so that he was looking down at her. His eyes were dark and more ravenous than she’d seen them in a long time.

She could feel his eyes on her skin. “You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” Her brain blurred and tingled at the words.

He was pleased with her. Maybe—maybe he would bite her.

She was trying to be so good. “Yes, Alpha.” His thumb at her hip was drawing light circles over the bone and he pulled her more firmly against his cock.

He turned her face upwards, holding her chin and running his thumb along her lips. “Tell me, what you want.” The words rolled through her.

She looked into his eyes, her blood thrumming in her veins. She wasn’t sure if she was feeling his desire or hers.

Her mind was in too much of a golden haze to tell. “You.

Just you. You’re—mine.

I want

"I want you to always be mine. I want to always be yours.

Your Omega. So you'll take care of me.

I want you to bite me. I want you to take me completely," she said, pressing her jaw against his hand and parting her lips.

His eyes darkened with desire as heat flooded through her body. He slid his thumb slowly into her mouth, and she eagerly sucked on it, swirling her tongue around it just as she would along his length.

He thrust it in and out, a powerful presence burning for her. A perfect Alpha.

Her Alpha. "You’re mine," he growled.

"If I bite you, you’ll always be mine. My Omega.

Every inch of you. No one else will ever touch you.

You’re mine. Every heat, you’ll be under me.

It will be my seed inside you. My knot.

My children." 

She moaned around his thumb, her desire thrumming within her. Her hands slipped through the water to caress him, and she pulled her mouth away.

"Please, Alpha. Just take me." 

He shifted her until the head of his cock pressed against her, and she slowly lowered herself onto him.

She was certain he had grown even larger, making it a challenge to accommodate him, especially in the water where her natural lubrication was washed away. She felt her inner walls flutter as she stretched around him.

He cupped her breasts, showering them with kisses while dragging his thumbs across her nipples. A ripple of sensation coursed through her, and she let out a low moan, tangling her fingers in his hair as she rose and sank down again.

"Alpha, please," she whispered. His hips met hers, arching her back as he wrapped his mouth around her nipple, swirling his tongue around the aching tip.

She pulled him closer, kissing him hungrily until her lungs burned. "Alpha, please." 

She drew back, staring into his eyes, feeling as if she was falling into him.

"Bite me."

He tangled a hand in her hair, pulling her head back until she was gazing up at the ceiling. His tongue traced a path across her throat, igniting a fire within her.

“Please…” she moaned, the sound raw and desperate. His hips snapped against hers, and she felt an overwhelming urge to surrender to him.

Claim me, her mind chanted, and she rolled her hips in time with the rhythm of her thoughts. She tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him close as her body responded to him, tightening around him.

“Please, Alpha—” she keened. He growled against her throat, sending a shiver across her skin.

Her eyes fluttered shut, lost in the moment. “Mine.

Mine. Mine.” Each declaration was punctuated by a thrust, fueling the fire within her.

“Yes. Yes.” 

His hand slid from her hip up her spine, grasping the base of her neck and arching her body against him.

The water around them rippled and splashed, heightening their connection. Bite me.

Please, bite me. She gripped his wrists, her fingers brushing over the scent glands there.

When he dragged his teeth across her throat, it sent a surge of heat through her nerves. She shuddered, a sob escaping her lips.

“Bite me. Bite me.” She mouthed the words, afraid that if she spoke them aloud, she might scream.

“Mine. You’re perfect.

I love you. I’ll always take care of you.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.

I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. You’re such a good girl.

Mine—I love you. I love you.

I love you.” 

As she reached the peak of her pleasure, her body clenched around him. She gripped his wrists tightly, feeling as if her bones might break under the pressure.

His teeth grazed her throat, and her climax soared to a blinding silver light, like fireworks exploding in her mind. It grew brighter until everything faded to black.

When she finally regained consciousness, she gasped for air as if she had just resurfaced from underwater. Dazed, she brought a hand to her face and found it dry.

She leaned her head back against him, still lost in the aftermath of their connection. Hermione leaned against Draco, panting heavily.

Her heart raced in her chest, matching the rhythm of his heaving breaths as he held her tightly. "That was...

really intense," she finally managed to say, a smile creeping onto her face. "I think bath sex is definitely better than shower sex.

I had no idea it could be that intense."

Draco remained silent, his fingers twitching slightly against her skin. Hermione closed her eyes, trying to steady her breath.

She felt a delightful warmth coursing through her, her body trembling and feeling utterly boneless. Nuzzling against his chest, she noticed a slight twinge at the base of her neck.

As she reached up to touch the spot, Draco broke the silence. "I—bit you."