All You Want Episode 36 - Harry Potter

 Hermione and Draco wake soulbound and unshakably together. 

 They visit her parents at St Mungo’s, where memories begin to return and Draco faces the Grangers for the first time as her partner. 

 Back at Hogwarts, press attention explodes, the Ministry opens an inquiry, and Anthony Goldstein’s strange “pupation” ends with Hermione delivering a well aimed punch. 

Pansy and Luna forge an unexpected study alliance, bullying finally eases, and Hermione and Draco start planning life after graduation, complete with a Charms lab and a London flat. 

Transcript

**Chapter 36: Epilogue: Come What May**

Hermione gazed up into Draco’s eyes, feeling like liquid gold. “Hey, Soulmate,” he said, his gaze electric as he looked down at her.

The way he regarded her made her feel like the center of the universe. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“Hey, Lover.” 

Though her mind still felt foggy with exhaustion, a wave of euphoric relief washed over her as she woke to find him still by her side. She reached up, resting her hand on his face, feeling their magic ripple between them.

“We’re soulbound,” she whispered. “Yeah,” he replied, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

Words eluded her, and they simply stared at one another, immersed in the connection. She could feel his emotions—those feelings she had once feared might not be real, that she might be deluding herself by believing in.

But now, she sensed them all, more genuine than she had ever dared hope. He was hers.

Just as much as she was his. After a long, soothing shower, Draco helped her untangle her nearly matted hair.

When they stepped out of the bathroom, they were pleasantly surprised to find that the house-elves had come in, cleaning the room and replacing the sheets, pillows, and blankets on the bed. A nearby table was piled high with food.

Draco pressed a gentle kiss on her temple. “You should eat.

I think you shrank this week.”

Hermione snorted, glancing down at herself. “I wouldn’t mind if my curves went down a bit.

They’re just absurd. I was actually thinking of researching reduction spells.”

“What?” he exclaimed, nearly yelping.

“No! They’re my favorite things about you—” He cut himself off abruptly when he caught her eye, looking a bit abashed.

“Well, one of them,” he added, waving his hand in her general direction. “Of course, there are other parts of you that I’m even more fond of.”

Hermione arched an eyebrow.

“And by other parts, I can only assume you mean your...”

“Brain,” he said smoothly, sidling up to her. Hermione rolled her eyes and elbowed him.

“Right. That’s the strong impression I’ve been getting.

My brain is in incredibly high demand.”

“Don’t act miffed.” Draco raised an eyebrow, looking pointedly down at her. “I don’t recall my intellect ever being mentioned when you were describing in detail how much you love my cock and pectorals.”

Hermione felt her face grow hot but squared her shoulders.

“I was in heat. My focus at the time was… limited.”

“Right.

Generally speaking, your interest has been far purer.” He loomed over her with a lecherous smirk. “That was most certainly the impression I got when you first propositioned me, and your voice trailed off as you undressed me with your eyes.”

Hermione pursed her lips and glanced away.

“I was very sexually frustrated at the time.”

Draco chuckled, closing in on her. “I know.

I was keenly aware of just how frustrated you were. It may surprise you, but I’ve spent a considerable amount of my time over the last few months keeping track of your state of sexual frustration.

You could say it’s a hobby of mine.”

She looked up at him. “I wasn’t actually that horny.

You got me off considerably more than was necessary for my clarity of mind or need for scent-marking.”

“Well,” he shrugged, “watching you come is another hobby of mine.” His voice was a purr that resonated through every nerve in her body. She had meant to eat, but she lost track of time snogging him instead.

The last time had been after her heat, when she was alone. She tried not to dwell on it, but the feeling of vulnerability from being left once it was over had been almost physically painful.

She didn’t want to let go of Draco. She could barely keep her hands off him—touching him, kissing him, feeling the magic between them.

He’d said he wished she’d be more clingy, and now he was getting all of her clinginess. She didn’t want to eat; she just wanted to hug him indefinitely.

Eventually, Draco had to peel her off and drag her across the room to the table, begging her to eat. As she nibbled on a French pastry he had somehow convinced the house-elves to make, he fussed over her, pouring endless refills of pumpkin juice and giving her a shoulder rub.

“Draco—” she said between bites, “you don’t need to. Of the two of us, I’m sure you’re feeling worse.

You spent so much more energy with me than I did with you.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do, Granger. That’s Pansy’s job.” 

Hermione choked on a laugh, nearly inhaling her pastry.

He planted a kiss on her shoulder and began kneading the muscles at the nape of her neck. “I wasn’t there the last time.

I have to make it up to you now.” His tone was dry, almost sarcastic, but she could sense the deeper emotions lurking beneath—guilt and apologies. Turning to face him, Hermione straddled his lap, ignoring the burning sensation in her muscles with every move.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Draco, this is us together.

It’s not about making anything up anymore. You’ve apologized, and I’ve accepted it.

I’ve forgiven you. Just love me now.” 

She closed her eyes, reaching for the emotional connection between them.

“I love you,” she whispered, her mouth just a breath away from his lips. “I love you.

Just love me back.” 

“I will,” he replied, and then he kissed her. Now that she was soulbound, it was safe for Hermione to leave Hogwarts.

A few days after her heat, she and Draco visited her parents at St. Mungo’s.

As they sat in the waiting room, Hermione fidgeted nervously, her throat tight. “I’ve written to them, but their memories of me are still blurry.

The last time—before I left for school—they still…”

“I didn’t think they’d remember me at all, but now they remember a little. I’m not sure what to expect.” Hermione twisted her wand in her fingers and shifted in the uncomfortable chair.

Draco reached over and took one of her hands. “You’re likeable, even to people who are trying not to fall in love with you.

They’ll be very happy to see you, I’m sure.”

As they entered the room, Helen Granger stared at Hermione in silence for several seconds before reaching out. “Hermione, you’re all grown up.”

Tears flooded Hermione’s eyes as she took her mother’s hand.

“Do you remember me, Mum?”

“Of course,” Helen said, pulling Hermione closer, her eyes wide as she took in her daughter. “There are still some years that are a bit spotty, but I remember my clever little witch daughter.” Helen wrapped her arms around Hermione, and she burst into tears.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I wanted to visit sooner.”

“It’s alright.” Helen stroked Hermione’s hair.

“Your friends Harry, Ron, and Molly have come to see us several times. They told us it wasn’t safe.

But it’s safe now? You’re not endangering yourself by coming here?”

“It’s safe,” Hermione said, nodding as she wiped her eyes.

“It’s safe for me now.”

She glanced over and noticed that Draco and her father were staring at each other. Draco wore an expression of clear apprehension, despite being the taller wizard.

“Mum, Dad, this is Draco Malfoy.”

Robert Granger’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen you before.

You’re that scrawny little blond boy whose father got into a fight with Arthur Weasley at the bookshop. Your father didn’t think Hermione should be a witch.”

Draco paled visibly, and Hermione winced.

Of course her parents would remember Draco and Lucius. “Draco and I have been in a relationship for several months now.

It’s because of him that it’s safe for me to visit. We actually got to know each other because we’re partners in several…”

"Classes this year..." Hermione skillfully redirected the conversation toward school, keeping it there for the rest of the visit.

While she animatedly explained their arithmancy project to her mother, Draco and her father exchanged silent glances, each studying the other. As they were leaving, Helen looked at Draco with curiosity.

"Are you Dutch? You’re very… tall."

Draco shifted awkwardly, glancing down at himself.

"I’m primarily French and English. Due to a… magic-related phenomenon, I ended up taller than expected."

After they left St.

Mungo's, they apparated back to the gates of Hogwarts and made their way toward the castle. Along the way, Hermione turned to Draco.

"Should we go see your mother this week? Did she write back after you told her?"

Draco paused mid-stride.

"Right. Well, about that..."

A wave of discomfort and guilt washed over him as he glanced away.

"I—never wrote to tell her."

"You didn’t?" Hermione's confusion deepened. They had discussed it multiple times, and she was certain she had seen him writing letters.

"I thought you said—"

He looked down, straightened his robes, and focused on his shoes. "I tried to write her, but…" He hesitated, searching for the right words.

"My parents… well, you know what kind of ideology they raised me with. Just because I’m more important to them than the Dark Lord's victory doesn’t mean they’ve stopped believing what they do.

My mother is still a Black. She may decide to accept you for my sake, or she might not—and honestly, I don’t care what she does." 

He reached out, tucking a curl behind her ear, his thumb brushing lightly across her cheek.

"The life I have with you is better and broader than anything they ever wanted for me."

Hermione felt breathless and swallowed hard. He let out a low sigh.

"I tried to write, but every letter ended up sounding like, ‘I’m soulbonding with Hermione, and if you object, you don’t ever need to see me again.’ I was so focused on you that..."

"I just didn't have the mental energy to write to her," Draco admitted. "I’m not interested in compromising or offering any sort of apology for not marrying a pureblood." He locked eyes with her, and the intensity of his expression made her heart skip a beat.

"There’s nothing about you that they have any right to object to, and there’s nothing they can threaten me with that’s worth more than you. That’s why I didn’t write.

I’m sure my lawyer mentioned it to her. I think she sent a few letters that I haven’t read yet, if you want to see what she has to say."

As it turned out, Narcissa Malfoy had quite a bit to say, but she had the sense to keep it brief and full of implications.

She was his mother, after all; she would love him no matter what. It was rare for a Muggleborn to be an Omega, and perhaps an investigation into Hermione’s background would reveal she was descended from the Sacred Twenty-Eight.

Despite the impulsive and instinct-driven choices he’d made, Draco was still the Malfoy heir. There was a note about comportment classes included in the letters.

With a flick of his wrist, Draco set the letters on fire and tossed them into a bin. "If that’s how she wants to act, she can see us at graduation."

Hermione paused for a moment before saying, "She probably assumed it was a pureblood or at least a half-blood here at school."

"I don’t care," he replied, his voice thick with anger.

"She can swallow her prejudice, or she can keep up with my life through Pansy." He scoffed, and Hermione felt the heat of his indignation. "We don’t need to see her at all.

Their bigotry has done enough already. I’m done.

I’m not accommodating it."

Breaking the seal on a letter from Harry, Hermione began to read. "Well, it seems like everyone is happy and ready to accept us," she said dryly, handing the letter to Draco.

"They’ll come around eventually, I think. Ginny will thump them both if they act like idiots."

The tone of the letter reassured her that Harry and Ron would always love her, even if they didn’t agree with her choices.

“It was a very quick relationship, all things considered,” Hermione said with a sigh. “If anyone I knew wanted to get married after just three months, I’d probably have a lot of objections too.

Even I didn’t think we’d move this fast.” 

Draco glanced at her, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Are we married?”

She raised her eyebrows and shrugged.

“Not legally, but I think soulbonding is a bit more than marriage.”

“Do I get to call you my wife?” His voice dropped to a low purr. Hermione smiled, leaning toward him.

“If you want to, I wouldn’t object. Although—I prefer it when you call me soulmate.” 

She felt his smile as she kissed him.

They had the castle nearly to themselves for the holidays. They made liberal use of the prefect's bath, hid away in secluded aisles of the library, reading and kissing.

They took long walks, and Draco flew while Hermione watched, wrapped in warming charms that never seemed to wear off. And they had sex.

A lot of sex. Hermione hadn’t thought it could get any better, but soulbonded sex was something entirely different.

It wasn’t just the physical aspect; it was the way their magic and emotions entwined, swirling together in a blend that was beyond anything she had ever known. Feeling what he felt for her—and experiencing his emotions when he felt hers—was beautifully and blindingly sublime.

No wonder Alphas and Omegas kept their biology so private; it was the most personal experience Hermione had ever had. She could barely find the words to describe it.

Draco was hers, woven into her magic, her emotions, her very mind. The mutual need they had for one another was staggering.

She hardly noticed who else was at Hogwarts during the holidays until she nearly tripped over Pansy in the library. “Oh—you’re here,” Hermione said, her voice tinged with surprise as she took in the sight of Pansy and Luna Lovegood studying together in a window seat.

Pansy instantly stiffened, her expression shifting. Hermione faced Pansy, who stood there with her back arched like a cat.

“I can’t imagine how you missed me. You’ve torn your eyes away from Draco at least three times this past week,” Pansy said, rolling her eyes.

“I didn’t realize you and Luna knew each other,” Hermione replied, trying to gauge whether it was her imagination or if Pansy seemed unusually comfortable with Luna. “Why?

Did you think you were the only non-Slytherin who would have anything to do with me?” Pansy snapped, baring her teeth. “Hermione Granger and her menagerie of social outcasts?

Are you going to knit a ratty little hat and hide it in my school bag in hopes of adopting me?” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Getting into other people’s school bags is more your style.”

Pansy snorted.

“I was trying to pay my debt by doing you a favor and empowering your sickeningly noble political ambitions. You’re the one who decided to throw it all away and soulbond for love anyway.” Her disdain was palpable, almost hard to reconcile with the fact that she had insisted on being one of the witnesses to support Hermione and Draco’s soulbond.

“Pansy and I are partners in Herbology and Charms because no one else wants to pair with us,” Luna chimed in, blinking slowly as she lifted her book to display its title. “We’re compiling a list of witches who killed their husbands with common magical plant life.

Did you know that after the court failed to convict her husband of abuse, Celeste Trundlegump spent three years slowly poisoning him with mandrake tops before he finally succumbed? Then she and her lady’s maid ran away together to Greece.”

Hermione’s mouth twitched as she tilted her head in curiosity.

“I didn’t know that.”

“It was Pansy’s idea to make it our spring project,” Luna continued. “I’ve been telling her she should have stayed in Care of Magical Creatures since many magical plants have symbiotic relationships with magical creatures.

There’s been a severe Nargle infestation at Hogwarts this year due to—”

“...to all the mistletoe, but the butterbeer corks help keep them away.” Luna lifted her necklace proudly. “I made a bracelet for Pansy.

She says she only needs a few corks since there are fewer Nargles in the dungeons.” 

Hermione's gaze dropped, and she spotted a butterbeer cork bracelet quickly disappearing beneath Pansy’s cardigan. “I have extra corks from the Ravenclaw Christmas party if you want one, Hermione,” Luna offered.

“I don’t,” Hermione replied promptly. Pansy stiffened, shooting Hermione a look that could only be described as murderous.

“B-because—” Hermione stuttered, caught off guard. “Omegas are actually immune to Nargles.” 

Luna nodded seriously.

“Nargles are very sensitive to scents.” 

Hermione gestured over her shoulder. “Well, I should go find Draco.

I’ll see you both around.” 

She crab-walked awkwardly around the corner, then quickly headed back to where Draco was browsing through Charms encyclopedias. “Draco, did you know that Pansy and Luna Lovegood are friends?” 

He paused, furrowing his eyebrows.

“They got stuck together in Herbology a few months ago. Pans said it’s a nightmare and keeps threatening to drop the class.” 

A smile crept onto Hermione’s face.

“I think she’s gotten over it. They’re doing preliminary research for their project for next term—a compiled list of witches who poisoned their husbands.” 

A mix of emotions flickered across Draco’s face.

“That’s not unsettling at all. Good god, I dated her.” 

He sighed, closing his book before turning to face Hermione.

“In case I’ve never told you, one of the countless things I appreciate about you is that if you ever murder me, I know you’ll look me in the eye and tell me why first.” 

When the holidays ended, the Greengrass sisters returned to school in high spirits. The curse on Astoria wasn’t fully broken, but they’d made progress.

Neville returned with a look of happy relief on his face. He and Hannah had spent time together over the holidays and rekindled their relationship.

The next term passed relatively smoothly. Hermione and Ginny took decisive action against the bullying issue.

With Draco firmly under Hermione's protection and Pansy's ambiguous connection with Luna, Cornelius Burbage and his friend found themselves without any clear targets to harass. Although the tension remained, the rest of the year saw a fragile peace settle over the castle.

Gradually, Hermione's friends began to warm up to Draco. Harry and Ron typically avoided discussing him in their letters, but Hermione stubbornly brought Draco along every time the trio ventured to Hogsmeade, forcing them to accept her connection with him, even if it was with reluctance.

To Hermione's dismay, once she started leaving the castle, news of her relationship spread like wildfire. The newspapers erupted with sensational coverage, eagerly pursuing anyone connected to her for details about her personal life.

According to The Daily Prophet, it had always been obvious that she was an Omega, given her magical prowess and her history of pursuing high-profile relationships with well-known figures like Viktor Krum and Harry Potter. When the identity of Hermione's Alpha became public, the Ministry intervened, demanding a full investigation into their relationship.

Hermione was prepared, armed with her research and legal contracts. In March, she went into heat again, and upon her return with Draco, they learned that Anthony Goldstein had finally emerged from his pupation.

Covered in soft fur and sporting an enormous set of non-functional butterfly wings, he struggled to move, looking utterly bewildered. “What the hell did you do to me?” he exclaimed.

Half-snarling, half-moaning, Anthony Goldstein reacted when Draco and Hermione entered the infirmary. Draco sneered at him.

“Far less than I’d wanted to. I must say, those wings suit you, Goldstein.

All appearance.”

Hermione marched up to Anthony and punched him squarely on the nose, feeling the satisfying crack beneath her fist. “That’s for forcing me into subspace.” Leaning closer, she added in a low whisper, “You’ll have to wait to see what I’m going to do to you for what you did to Pansy.”

“Miss Granger!” Madam Pomfrey’s indignant voice echoed across the infirmary.

“Assaulting patients in a hospital ward is strictly frowned upon. If I see it happen again, there will be a points deduction.” With that, she turned and retreated into her office.

Anthony sat there, clutching his nose in disbelief as the door closed behind her. Hermione shot him a thin smile.

“You’re lucky I have better things to do.” Then, with a decisive turn, she took Draco’s hand and walked out. Anthony withdrew from Hogwarts before his wings molted.

Later, in late April, Hermione asked, “Draco, where should we live after we graduate?” 

He stiffened, looking up from his homework. “Wherever you want.

You’ll be the one working; I’ll just be”—he waved his hand dismissively—“knocking about and maybe meeting with the family solicitors every now and again.”

Hermione bit her lower lip. “Well, shouldn’t you decide?

Since you’ll be there more?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Hermione, I really don’t care.”

She stared at him until he finally looked away.

“I think we should get a place where we could have a Charms lab. That would be fun, don’t you think?”

He looked up again, and she could sense his internal excitement, even though his expression remained carefully neutral.

She tilted her head, pondering. “Maybe in London, a flat somewhere in a Muggle area.

It would be more private that way. No one would bother us unless we wanted them to.” 

Draco was studying her closely.

“You…”

“Wouldn’t you want to live closer to your friends?” Hermione shrugged. “Assuming I don’t fail my NEWTs and manage to get a job with the Department of Magical Creatures, we’ll all be working in the same building.

I don’t need to live near them.” 

She scooted closer, sliding her hand around his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. “You could become a Charms inventor.

We could work on projects together on the weekends. Maybe someday, if you want, you could even become a Professor here at Hogwarts—if you decide you don’t want to just lounge around being independently wealthy your whole life.”

Draco snorted, looking down at her with a raised brow.

“Uppity little wench. I thought all those romance novels said the heroine secretly admires an unscrupulously earned peerage.”

Hermione lifted her chin defiantly.

“Sorry, but I think the aristocracy is a load of rubbish. Although,” she added, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper, “I’m willing to pretend to admire it briefly if it means I get to see that absolutely enormous library of yours.

I would be so honored.”

Draco’s expression darkened as he narrowed his eyes. “You are never going to stop making jokes about my family library, are you?”

“Probably not,” she replied, laughing as she backed away.

He lunged across the couch, cornering her. He caught her and pinned her down, lowering his head to kiss along her throat, making her breath hitch and leaving her feeling boneless beneath him.

As he started to unbutton her shirt, she moaned softly and twitched slightly. “We have rules,” she said, though she didn’t make any real effort to stop him as he pulled her bra aside.

“You had me write a list. No interrupting study sessions with sex.

That was your rule.”

“Right,” he replied, and she could feel his smirk against her skin. “We were studying, weren’t we?

Remind me, how does Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration go?”

“What?” she furrowed her brow, caught off guard. her eyebrows and then gasped as his teeth lightly grazed her nipple.

“Transfiguration, Granger,” he said, as he kissed down her body. “We’re reviewing.” “You—you Slytherin prat—you planned this.“ “I may have been fairly conscientious in my word choice for that rule.” He rolled her nipple between his fingers and the sensation shot through her, making her toes curl and a tight coiling begin in her lower abdomen.

“Gamp’s Law, Hermione,” he said as he settled between her legs. She swallowed.

“There are five principal exceptions—“ her voice cut off briefly as his hand slid up her bare inner thigh. “—in elemental Transfiguration, the first...“ there was a touch tracing along the fabric of her knickers and the words faded away.

“The first?” Draco said, prompting her as he pushed up her skirt and pressed his thumb lightly against her clit and moved it in small circles. “The first—exception”—his thumb moved away and she felt him slowly pull her knickers to one side—“of Gamp’s Law—“ her voice wavered as she felt his breath on her, “—is food.” Two of his fingers sank into her core.

She gave an incoherent moan. “Which means?” His voice was dropped low and it rippled through her.

Her clit throbbed and her inner walls tightened around his fingers. His lips so close she could feel the heat of his mouth.

She licked her lips. “Which means—it means food cannot be created from nothing.” Draco’s burning hot tongue descended on her sex as his fingers pulled back and then pushed back into her.

Her hips bucked slightly and he stilled her with his hand. His tongue swirled against her and flicked lightly against her clit before he withdrew.

“What types of Transfiguration can be used on food?” Hermione swallowed and gripped the couch beneath her as his fingers again slid into her core. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to focus on Transfiguration rather than Draco’s lips as he lightly kissed along the

“Multiplication,” she said, her breath hitching as his mouth found her.

Her toes curled tightly, and one hand tangled in his hair as he worked his magic. A ragged gasp escaped her lips, and she tensed under his touch.

“It can be transformed—or multiplied—or sum-summoned…” she whimpered, feeling his hand slide up to tease her breast. “The second exception…”

He made her recite all five principal exceptions before he finally let her reach her peak.

Afterwards, she lay back, completely relaxed, on the couch, taking a moment to recover. When she finally sat up, she shot him a serious look.

“The point of rules is not to exploit them.”

He smirked, still focused on his book. Frustrated, she snatched it from his hands and, for a brief moment, straddled him before sliding off his lap to kneel between his legs.

With practiced ease, she unbuttoned his trousers and boxers, revealing his already rigid desire. Lowering her head, she dragged her tongue slowly up the length of him, meeting his dark, hungry gaze.

“Remind me, Draco, what are the twelve uses of dragon’s blood?”