Hermione bolted through the dungeon hallways and up the stairs and through several more hallways before she flung herself into an empty classroom and proceeded to collapse, like a starfish, onto the floor.

Oh god. Was it possible to die from sexual frustration? She rather suspected that it was.

If Malfoy refused to have sex with her she was probably going to cry.

But she'd done the right thing, hadn't she? It had been quite difficult to think straight in that classroom. She highly doubted that any consent given in such conditions would qualify as willing. It would have been like her heat all over again.

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Her body was throbbing. She felt as though there were an emptiness in her lower abdomen that was tearing at her. Just lying there, her clit hurt from arousal. Her glands on her neck and wrist were so over-sensitive they felt painful.

Hermione lifted her right arm and pressed her left palm lightly against her wrist. She hissed as she tried to ease the ache.

If Malfoy said no, she thought heavily, if he only agreed to scent mark but didn't want to have sex... she—she didn't know what she would do. She didn't think she could repeatedly snog him and then not get to—

She was half-afraid to even contemplate it. She pressed her wrists against her chest and felt her heart still racing.

She supposed she could try again to deal with it herself.  But so far, she hadn't been able to manage it. Even thinking about touching herself made her feel just profoundly self-conscious, as though she were being indecent. She'd obstinately tried anyway, over the weekend, and it hadn't worked. She'd tried and tried until she was sore and ready to scream with frustration. Apparently it was an additional aspect of being an Omega; orgasming was deeply dependant on a partner. Trying to masturbate was like hanging an enormous, flashing neon sign over over her head that said, "You Are All Alone!"

It just ruined it. She couldn't focus on the sensation.

It was so unfair.

Just enraging. An extra twist of the biological knife that had stolen her sexual autonomy away.

She lay quietly on the floor, seething, and waited for the edge she felt mindlessly close to to finally fade.

When it eased somewhat, she sat up and cast a freshening and a scourgifying charm on herself.

She had several essays she needed to work on in the library. She pulled the Marauder's map from her satchel and glanced over it, taking careful note of where all the Alphas were

Hopefully, if her theory was correct, her snog session with Malfoy would keep the Alphas at a distance. She certainly smelled quite heavily of Malfoy again.

She stopped by the girl's bathroom and checked her appearance over carefully, straightening her uniform and dabbing Murtlap essence on her neck and even on her lips in order to reduce the bee-stung look.

Once she looked decent she headed to the library, keeping her wand in hand the whole way just in case. She nearly went and sat alone, but then hesitated. Maybe she should sit with someone else.

Aside from Ron and Harry, she hadn't generally studied with others. She hadn't really studied with them either; studying together had primarily involved her berating and helping them with their homework. Her own studies had tended to be solitary, either alone in the library or when other people were socializing by talking about about quidditch or something equally inane. She hadn't ever really studied with other people.

But perhaps she should. Or at least pretend to. If she weren't alone, it might dissuade the Alphas from approaching. She walked along the aisles of bookshelves looking for a familiar face. She found Padma and Parvati Patil sitting in the Charms section and paused awkwardly.

"Could I sit here?" Hermione said, feeling her face grow slightly warm.

The Patil sisters both looked surprised.

"Sure," said Parvati, sliding several books over to make space.

Hermione sat down and set herself to pulling out her textbooks and parchment and quills.

"Which essay are you working on?" Padma politely asked after several minutes.

Hermione glanced up, "Oh, Charms first off, I haven't started it yet. Then I still have half of next week's Ancient Runes translation to complete. And then a Transfiguration essay on the history of animagi, the divining bit is giving me a bit of trouble, I can't find very much conclusive research on how it works."

"Well, Divination isn't really subject involving conclusive research. It's very emotional magic, you know," Parvati said.

Hermione's mouth twitched. She hated Divination, just found the entire subject wooly and generally useless. Some people thought that Harry's prophecy would have convinced her, but Hermione personally thought that Trelawney's prophecy had been more of a distraction than a tool in the war.

"Yes, I suppose so," Hermione finally said.

"Speaking of Divination, do you think you'll use it?" Parvati asked, studying Hermione curiously.

"Use it?" Hermione said.

"To find your Alpha," Parvati said, as though it were obvious.

Hermione felt her jaw tense. Her books had made reference to Divination for finding an Alpha. It was all lot of dreamwalking, scrying over pools of water mixed with her—fluids, and getting high and staring into crystal balls; all for the purpose of being able to See the identity of her "soulmate." Although the books included heavy disclaimers that some people did not have soulmates, and even if they did See someone that the travails of Fate may prevent the bonding. It was all just a lot of drivel and utter rubbish.

Hermione had barely paid any mind to those parts of her books. 

"I'm trying to keep my options open," Hermione finally said.

"Well, if you want help—I know Divination isn't really your subject—I could recommend a few books, if you're interested."

Hermione fought against letting her lips curl derisively. This was why she studied alone.

"I didn't realize the dynamic was such a focus in Divination," Hermione said, attempting to look politely curious rather than incredulously disdainful.

Parvati nodded and looked distressingly enthusiastic, the way people tended to when they were about to talk about something for a long time. "It's actually heavily covered in Romantic Divination. Most wizarding folk don't know, but the more fundamentally magical someone is, the more likely that Fate will become a force in their love life. So that's why most Magical Beings even have mates. You know, the way Veela do. In their case, the Magic gets all entwined with their life force and everything. Genetically speaking, Alphas and Omegas are about as fundamentally magical as wizarding folk can be without Magical Being blood. So there's a lot more of a likelihood that they'll have someone they've destined for. Not all of them. But—better odds, you know."

Hermione nodded disinterestedly as she eyed the paragraph of her Charms essay that she'd just written. There was a comma splice and three uses of the word "definitively" in as many sentences.

"Good to know. I'll keep it in mind," Hermione lied as she fixed her punctuation and scratched out the middle 'definitively.'

Thankfully Parvati subsided after that, and Hermione was able to bury herself entirely in her homework until it was time for her to head to her Advanced Ancient Runes class.

The nice thing about academics was how non-physical and non-emotional they were. A person could think about Charms and therefore not think about missing their best friends; or how a genetic anomaly had ruined their life; or how their lower abdomen felt empty and their skin cold; or how afraid they were that someone might attack them; or about how very, very badly they wanted to have passionate sex with Draco Malfoy.

Because Hermione was not thinking about any of those things. She was only thinking about her Charms essay. She was most certainly not thinking about anything else. Not how Harry and Ron were together studying to be aurors. Or how much she missed Harry's smart mouth or Ron's jokes. Or how she'd give anything to be walking the halls with them again, rather than being all alone.

Hermione thought back to Ginny's offer of DA's protection.

But she didn't want it. She didn't want people walking down the halls with her as a favour in order to protect her. If she were going to walk down a hall with someone, she wanted it to be with friends. Except she didn't want any friends; she didn't come back for eighth year to make more friends. She came for school.

It was so frustrating!

Hermione angrily kicked the wall, and then yelped and hopped on one foot due to the sharp pain in her toes.

Ugh. She limped angrily to the Ancient Runes classroom and seated herself in the back of the room.

Oh god, she hoped Malfoy didn't end up changing his mind. She was already dreading the next morning's post. What if he changed his mind even about scent-marking? Maybe everything he'd agreed to had been hormone induced. Maybe he wouldn't even write. He might just ignore her again and leave her wondering.

She didn't even want to think about it.

She didn't think about it. She listened carefully in Ancient Runes and ignored Peter Selwyn. She did not think about shagging and snogging Malfoy while she was walking down the hallway. Or in the Gryffindor common room. Or while she wrote a reply to a letter Molly Weasley had sent over the weekend. 

She didn't not think about Malfoy when she was eating dinner in the Great Hall. She didn't even notice that Daphne Greengrass was sitting across from him. She did not pay any attention to the fact that Malfoy had meticulous table manners or how his mouth looked as he raised his fork to take a bite.

She did not notice when his eyes met hers and it felt like her heart stalled momentarily before she tore her eyes away.

She did not think about snogging Malfoy or shagging Malfoy while she was writing her Transfiguration essay. She most certainly did not accidentally write in the middle of a paragraph on the history of animal transfiguration "he smells like leather, vetiver, and papyrus sedge with an undertone of vanilla and...sandalwood?" 

Obviously she did not write such a thing. She did not spend fifteen minutes carefully erasing it either.

None of those things happened. If anyone accused her of such things Hermione would have been indignant as she denied it all.

She barely slept. It was just so cold to sleep alone. She even contemplated going up to Ginny's room and asking if she could climb in bed with her. But Hermione had shared a bed with Ginny before, and Ginny had extremely sharp elbows.

Hermione kept casting warming charms on herself, but every time it wore off she woke abruptly and then lay in bed worrying about Malfoy again. She felt like an insomniac toad when she skulked down to the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning; sleep deprived, cold, and gloomy. She poked listlessly at her eggs and tried to not start whenever she heard a sound reminiscent of fluttering wings.

A brown school owl suddenly landed on the edge of her plate, and proceeded to greedily scarf down all of Hermione's kippers and sausage. She stared at it in confusion until she caught sight of an elegant M written on the upper left corner of the envelope, and it occurred to her that it might be from Malfoy.

Of course he wouldn't send his eagle owl. Hermione had no idea how she'd explain receiving letters in the post from Malfoy when he was literally seated across the hall from her.

She nervously pulled the large envelope free. It felt surprisingly thick, as though Malfoy may have written an essay explaining why he, a rational pureblood, was not interested in having sex with her, a filthy, wanton Mudblood.

She almost opened it but then hesitated. She glanced up and found Malfoy looking at her from across the Hall. He quirked an eyebrow and smirked and Hermione had no idea whether that heralded good or bad things.

She shoved the letter into her bag and left the Hall quickly, heading straight to the nearest girl's bathroom and sitting on a toilet as she broke the seal and pulled out several sheets of parchment.

Granger,

Regarding the collaborative project we spoke of yesterday, my answer remains the same: I am very interested in working with you on it. I hope you will not pursue any alternative partners or options.

I've enclosed my timetable for the current and upcoming semester which contains my entire schedule. I have also included a list of various locations through the castle where our collaboration is least likely to be interrupted.

If you want to discuss terms further in a more circulated environment, I will be working in the library this evening from six to eight at the table in the aquatic herbology aisle.

M

Hermione read the letter a dozen times before pulling out the other sheets of parchment and discovering that they did indeed contain Malfoy's timetables, and a list of various classrooms and unoccupied rooms throughout the castle.

Well, that certainly seemed like a strong affirmative.

In retrospect had she really expected Malfoy to write a letter saying "Yes, Granger, let's shag"?

What if he had, and she'd opened in the middle of the Great Hall? Parvati and Ginny both habitually read over her shoulders. Hermione blushed just thinking about it. 

She was feeling profoundly relieved that she had worried so much for nothing. And he wanted to meet in the library to go over things beforehand, thank goodness. Although—it was going to be very, very awkward. She started a mental list of things she wanted to say.

She compared Malfoy timetable with her own and found that they had quite a few overlapping free periods. Malfoy was studying for nine NEWTs, the very same ones Hermione was taking.

She'd known he was in Potions, DADA, and Arithmancy because Gryffindor shared those classes with Slytherin, but she hadn't realized he had the exact same course load. Although she supposed it wasn't that surprising; aside from sixth year he'd always been right behind her in class rank. It wasn't as though he'd be studying Care of Magical Creatures, or Divination, or Muggle Studies.

She pulled out a quill and marked all the free periods that they shared. There were—a lot.

Not, she firmly reminded herself, that that meant they'd be making out or shagging during all or even most of them. After all, they both had a very large course load.

But still... just staring at them made her scent glands tingle hopefully.

Then she packed everything carefully in her satchel, and headed out of the bathroom. Hermione's Tuesdays were her only day with only one class; Herbology with Hufflepuff after lunch. She headed to Gryffindor's common room to preoccupy herself with homework for the rest of the day.

That evening after a light and nervous dinner she headed to the library. Malfoy was seated at a table tucked away in the very back of the Herbology section. Hermione missed the aisle twice before she managed to spot it. It was dimly lit and turned sharply at the end, revealing a small study table.

Hermione stopped at the corner.

"Malfoy," she said.

Hermione was certain he had known she was there from the moment she walked into the library. Based on her reading, now that he'd scent-marked her he could probably hunt her down anywhere in the castle. But Malfoy didn't look up from his essay until she spoke.

When she said his name, his hand froze, then he turned and looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Granger," he said in a slow, low drawl.

Hermione shivered and felt herself grow warm and throb between her legs. She pressed her lips together and as she walked over.

"So," she said, as her voice tried very hard to jump up several octaves. "You—wanted to talk here about—about—about—"

"Our new collaborative project?" he purred with a smirk as he capped his ink bottle.

"Yes," she squeaked as she sat down beside him.

There was a pause, and he seemed to be waiting for her to begin. She nervously looked over at him, studying his expression carefully. Although the smirk was still playing at his lips, his eyes seemed closed and defensive.

She flinched internally as she tried to think of how to begin. All the versions of their conversation that she'd rehearsed seemed inappropriate.

Hermione finally opened her mouth and then closed it as she noticed the tension in his shoulders and jaw. She swallowed feeling more nervous. She couldn't understand why he'd spare her the time when he also seemed so unenthused and resentful of her.

A horrifying thought struck her.

I owed you. You testified for me.

"Malfoy—" she said abruptly, "I—you don't have to do this. If this is about—owing me...for testifying—"

She stared at him wide-eyed.

"That wasn't why I asked you," she said.

He stared at her expressionless until she felt the blood drain from her face. She pushed her chair back.

"Never mind," she said in a faint voice. "Forget all of it. I'm so sorry."

"Sit down , Granger," Malfoy said firmly. Hermione promptly dropped back into her seat and looked at him apprehensively. He rolled his eyes, and sneered.

"Good grief, I'm going to lose count of how many times you've tried to back out on your own idea."

She felt her face turn red and she stared down at her lap.

"You have my interest in writing," he said. "I realize it was somewhat vague, since I wasn't sure whether you'd do something like open it the Gryffindor table, but I can be more specific now, if you still have doubts."

Hermione felt her heart start racing as though she were a panicked rabbit. "Really...?"

"Really," he said and leaned toward her until his mouth was near her ear. "Granger, I will gladly fuck you at any time and any place you desire."

Hermione nearly whimpered as a shiver laced its way down her back. The hairs on her nape prickled as she felt the heat from his breath against her ear and neck. She shook as he continued, "In fact, the odds that you will ever want to have sex and I won't are fairly negligible. If you ask the answer is going to be yes. If for some unimaginable reason the answer is 'no,' I am more than capable of telling you. The real question is whether that's something you are capable of."

He sat back and stared at her. Hermione panted and tried to catch her breath, struggling against whimpering or visibly squirming in her seat.

"W-what?" she said.

"If I'm the one who scent-marks you, and I ask you to have sex, can you say 'no'?" he said, looking at her with a serious expression, although Hermione couldn't help but notice that his eyes were growing dark.

She blinked.

"No?" she said.

"Hard to imagine, I'm sure, but there may come a day when you don't want to have sex with me.  If it does, I'd like to know whether you can say so," he said.

"I can say 'no,'" Hermione said.

Malfoy eyed her condescendingly. She bristled.

"I can. I said 'no' to Neville when I was on the verge of going into heat.  And I said 'no' to Anthony repeatedly, I asked him to let me go, and I asked him to stop. I—I even begged him him to stop."

She clenched her fists and breathed sharply through her nose several times.

"When I was in the subspace it—I was still aware. It's like—all the pieces aren't there. But I knew what Anthony was doing—that I didn't want to. And then—when it was you—I knew that you were—safe."

"Right," Malfoy said in a somewhat flat voice, his expression flickering and seeming briefly depressed before it cleared again and his expression grew intent. Predatory. Hermione shivered as he leaned toward her again.

"I'm sure you won't be offended that I want to verify it."

"What?" Hermione said as he invaded her personal space.

"Granger," he said with smirk, "I'm not going to fuck you in this library tonight. But I'm going to try to convince you to, and it's your job to say 'no.' If you can say 'no' three times, I'll get you off on this desk."

"You—you'll—you'll what?" she choked.

He didn't bother to clarify further, he just stared at her as though he were a starving hippogriff and she were a plump pine marten.

"We're in the library!" she said.

He grinned wickedly. "Astute observation. Five points to Gryffindor."

She stared at him astonished and felt herself growing wet. Weren't there things she was supposed to be talking to him about? Terms?

"We can't—It's the library," she said, glancing around helplessly.

"Really, Granger? I thought if anyone would have a library kink it would be you."

Hermione felt her face grow red hot.

"The—other Alphas will smell it," she said.

"They're all going to know it regardless of where we do it," he said pointedly. "This will be a good way to tell them to fuck off when you're studying here."

She shivered.

"Is that a no then?" he said in a low voice, after she continued to sit stunned beside him. "You don't want me to get you off here?"

Hermione blushed scarlet and stared at him guiltily.

A triumphant grin curved across Malfoy's lips as his mouth crashed into hers.

Hermione moaned the moment their lips touched. In less than a second he had a hand tangled in hair and an arm around her waist. As his tongue slid into her mouth and caressed the roof of her mouth, he dragged her up from her chair and seated her on the table. She parted her legs and he stepped between them, pinning her against the bookshelves as he continued to ravish her.

Casual. Fun; she reminded herself as she gripped his robes fiercely and whimpered desperately against his mouth.

"Remember, Granger," he said, drawing his lips away from hers when she started to gasp, "this is a test. You're supposed to show me you can say 'no' if I try to fuck you here tonight."

Hermione nodded as he drew her head back and ran the tip of his tongue along her jaw and then proceeded to nip along her throat down to her scent glands. She felt his fingers at her neck as he began unbuttoning her shirt.

As the fabric parted, he dipped his head down and sucked lightly on her neck. The sensation was intensely soothing and arousing all at once.

"Oh," Hermione gasped quietly into his shoulder as she clung to him. "Oh god."

His fingers continued to open her shirt, gliding lightly across her skin as he started licking her glands, pressing into them with his tongue until the air grew thick with his possessive mark. He kept licking her neck until she was shaking and nearly boneless in his arms.

Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Please.

Hermione shifted her hips toward the edge of the desk trying to press against him. She could feel her knickers growing wet. She was slick and desperate with want. She wanted him inside her.

"Granger," Malfoy growled softly. "I'm going to fuck you on this table."

Oh god, yes. She almost started to nod but then—

It's a test. It's a test. He wants to see if you can say no. If you say 'yes' he might stop.

Hermione bit her lip hard, and stiffened.

"No," she forced out.

Malfoy stilled momentarily. A second that seemed to last forever.

" Good girl ," he growled against her throat. Hermione's entire brain turned into liquid gold.

He lifted his head and captured her lips again. Cradling her face in his palm as he bruisingly kissed her. The air was thrumming and electric around them. A molten heat pooled inside her as his lips caressed hers, his teeth grazing her lips lightly as he pressed her body against his own.

Casual. It's just physical. Biological. It doesn't mean anything. Sex doesn't necessarily mean anything. It can just be—fun. She steadied herself with the thought, even as she slid her hand along his neck; feeling the tendons and rippling muscle beneath the skin, stroking her thumb against one of his scent glands so that he gasped against her lips.

His reaction sparked something inside her. Wanted. Powerful. Physically she could affect him as deeply as he could affect her.

She ran her fingers through his pale silken hair and nipped as his mouth with her teeth. He responded with a low groan of approval. She pressed the length of her body against him, relishing the heat that radiated through his robes.

She hooked a heel around his leg to hold him close as she kissed him ardently. One of his hands rested on her waist. Hot. Caressing. His thumb gliding along her lowest rib as his fingers pulled her more firmly against the broad planes of his chest.

Then his hand slowly slid up her waist and under her bra, his thumb lightly grazing the sensitive skin on the underside of her breast. Hermione bit back a strangled cry and arched into his hand.

"Please," she said in a near sob against his lips.

She felt him smirk as his fingers slowly travelled across the skin with featherlight touches as she could felt her nipples harden and begin to ache. Her clit was throbbing and was desperate to feel pressure against it. Anything. She was so close. Already. Just touching him. Breathing in his scent. Feeling him against her.

Her body was shaking slightly as he drew his mouth away from hers. His hand on her cheek slid slowly down the column of her neck, brushing against her scent glands so that she shuddered before he continued onward. He slipped his fingers under the top of her bra and pulled the cups down, exposing her. Her skin tingled, and he stepped back in order to stare at her, mesmerized. His expression was almost stunned, athough he'd already seen every inch of her.

She studied his expression, feeling cringingly anxious when a cruel question abruptly struck her: could you regard someone as desirable but also fundamentally inferior to you?

Then a crueler thought: he might not even regard her as desirable. It might be entirely driven by his biology. It wouldn't matter what she looked like. To him, she was functionally and essentially a hole between her legs and heady chemical cocktail.

The thought hurt as though she'd been stabbed by it. She squeezed her eyes shut. Don't think about it. Don't think about any of it.

She felt him step closer even before he touched her. She pressed her lips together and tried not to burst into tears. She could feel the heat and power of his body when he drew close again.

"You're perfect," he murmured near her ear as his hands cupped her breasts gently.

The corner of Hermione's mouth twitched in bitterly.

Don't think about it, she reminded herself. Casual. Fun. That's all. It's just a biological process. Just be rational about it. Focus on the sensation. It doesn't matter what he thinks of you.

She swallowed hard, and then gave a ragged gasp as Malfoy's thumbs slid across her nipples before gliding lightly around her areolas. She bucked against him and keened.

"Shhhh. We're in the Hogwarts library, Granger," Malfoy reminded her, his lips brushing lightly against her neck just below her ear as he spoke.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded. She only allowed a quiet moan to escape her as he peppered light kisses along her jaw, up her cheek and to her temple. She shivered against him, buried her face in his chest, and privately condemned herself for how much she wished it was real.

That's just your biology tricking you, she reminded herself, even as she fell back against the bookshelf, arching her back and pushing her breasts up in a wordless plea to Malfoy. He leaned down and wrapped his burning mouth around her nipple and Hermione nearly came from the sensation.

"Oh fuck—" she gasped quietly as she felt his tongue curling around her aching flesh. One of his hands continued to tease her other breast, sliding around the circumference several times before finally caressing and rolling the tip between his fingertips. His other hand slid down her arm to her wrist and scent gland, and he began drawing languorous circles over the area until her fingers started spasming.

He drew his mouth away and Hermione sobbed.

"Beg me to fuck you," he growled as he stared at her. He was using a slight Alpha tone.

She started opening her mouth and then snapped it shut and inhaled deeply.

"That's not even fair," she finally ground out. "No."

His eyes grew darker. "Good girl."

He dipped his head down and began a tender assault of her other breast for several minutes, until she was writhing on the table. Then he slid further down her body, until he was kneeling between her legs.

Oh god. She stared at him, and felt as though the blood in her veins may have turned to fire. He met her eyes as his hands slid up her thighs, parting her legs, opening her. Hermione's heart was beating so hard it almost hurt. She was balanced on the edge of a table in the library, completely exposed.

She held her breath, frozen.  Alpha. Alpha, please.

She wanted him so much it hurt.

Malfoy breathed deeply, and his eyes grew so dark she couldn't see any silver in them. His expression was ravenous.

"You smell like heaven," he said in a husky voice. "I dream about this. Ever since your heat. I have been dying to taste you again."

Hermione shivered and gripped the edge of the table. Then she felt his fingers brush across the fabric of her drenched knickers, and a ragged, guttural gasp was torn from her. She bit her lip, trying to keep quiet, and closed her eyes.

Slow. Teasing. He kept running his fingertips across the fabric with barest pressure until Hermione was trembling. Then she felt his fingers catch the fabric and pull her knickers to one side.

Her sex was swollen. Flushed with blood. Her clit was throbbing, aching to be touched. The cool air of the library against it and Malfoy's greedy gaze made her feel ready to shatter.

"You have a beautiful cunt, Granger."

She snorted faintly, but it broke off as he used his fingers to spread her open. She shook with a combination of arousal and embarrassment. His fingers brushed tauntingly close to her core and she felt herself clench as she shifted slightly.

"Oh please," she said in a sobbing whisper.

"You're dripping on the table," he said.

She started, and flushed with embarrassment, but Malfoy stopped her from closing her legs. He smirked up at her.

"This whole section of the library is going to smell like you," he said. "Every time I come here, I'm going to think about you just like this. I want to fuck you here. Someday, I'm going to take you on this table until I knot. Being inside you, there's nothing to compare it to. The way you arch and take me. I dream about it every night. There are so many ways I haven't gotten to fuck you yet."

Hermione bit her lip as his fingers continued to tease her.

"Will you let me fuck you here, Granger?"

Hermione swallowed miserably.

"Not tonight," she said in a thick voice.

He grinned rakishly. He should have been as mindlessly aroused as Hermione, possibly even more. But apparently Draco Malfoy was capable of bending the biological rules most Alphas found themselves subject to.

"Good girl," he murmured against her inner thigh. "I am pleased with you."

Her mind was purring like a smug kneazle at his praise, but was a distant part of herself that found the entire situation deeply implausible, even as she was in the midst of it. As a general rule, boys did not grin and praise girls for saying "No, you cannot have sex with me." 

It must be some kind of Slytherin—

Hermione's brain stalled and the entire library vanished from her vision as Malfoy gave her a long broad lick. His tongue was hot and wet and Hermione gave a strangled gasp that was nearly a scream as her entire body seized under him.

His hands clamped around her wrists like a vise to hold her in place as he continued his assault; sliding his tongue along her folds and then pressing inside her. Hermione shook. His lips were playing across her sensitive flesh, kissing, nipping, and then his tongue slid deeper inside of her and he moaned. The vibrations rippled through Hermione and she threw her head back and smacked it sharply into the bookshelf.

"Oooh, god," she sobbed quietly. Then his mouth came up to her clit and his tongue dragged across it. Hermione made a choking sound as she tried not to make too much noise. He seemed to be experimenting; circling with his tongue several times, then giving slow intentional laps, then broader licks. Feathery light, gentle, soft.

Hermione's entire body stilled, and she felt as though she were going die. She was shaking so hard she was nearly vibrating, and Malfoy just kept lightly licking her clit the same way. Again and again and again. Closer and closer.

She wrapped her fingers around his wrists and gripped him as hard as she could. His thumbs shifted and found her scent glands. He brushed against them lightly as he continued his ministrations to her clit. Hermione bucked and came with a strangled cry; seizing and jerking against Malfoy's hold. After she came, his tongue delved into her center as though he were drinking her.

Hermione slumped limply against the shelf, and stared down at him through half-lidded eyes when he finally drew his mouth away. His chin was glistening and his expression smug as he stood up and kissed her. She could taste the tang of herself on his lips and tongue as he explored her mouth and teased her tongue in the same way he had teased her clit.

One of his hands was gripping her hip, and the other lazily slid down between her legs as he broke off their kiss in order to smirk.

"I bet I can get you off again with my fingers," he said.

Hermione stared at him, glazed and wordless in the afterglow of her orgasm. He drew a hand up to her breast and gently teased her nipple into a hard peak under his fingers.

"After all," he said in a low voice, as he began kissing along her neck while his fingers caressed and lightly cupped her sex. "You did manage to say no, three times."