Malfoy kissed lightly along her neck and across the top of her shoulders. Soft kisses, interspersed with an occasional nip; grazing his teeth along the curve of her neck until she shivered. His hand teasing her breasts slowly withdrew to instead tangle in hair at the nape of her neck, drawing her head back until her throat was bared in submission.

He drew back to study her, his silver eyes glittering, before he lowered his head and began to lick her glands again. Hermione writhed, and twisted in his hold as she gasped and gripped the fabric of his shirt.

Her brain was at a point of overload. She could barely form a full thought as she felt his fingers playing near her core. Alpha. Alpha. Alpha. Please. Yes. Please.

His thumb slid through her arousal, brushing against the sensitive, swollen flesh as he traced along seam of her sex. Again. And again. She arched her hips to increase the contact, but his fingers drew away. She groaned in frustration and he chuckled against her throat.

"You have the most perfect cunt," he said huskily as his fingers plunged into her.

The sound that emerged from Hermione's throat was almost animal; a guttural keening wail, as her inner walls gripped him and she bucked hard against his hand. His hold on her hair tightened and he lifted his head from her throat, staring down into her eyes as his fingers withdrew slightly and then sank back inside her.

His eyes were black. His expression feral and possessive. She could feel his cock pressed against her thigh and grinding into the table, trying to relieve his own arousal as he continued finger fucking her. Hermione was panting as she met his eyes, studying him. It was like being bathed in fire. The heat of his gaze was like flames nipping her skin.

As her body gripped his fingers, he hissed through his teeth. Her tongue impulsively darted up and flicked against his lips. He kissed her hard and pumped his fingers deeper.

It was—not enough. It was not him and she wanted him.

She wanted to plead. Somewhere feral in her mind, she feels to urge to beg. To call him Alpha and present herself more submissively. If she spread her legs as wide as she could, held them back and showed him how wet and aroused he made her, he'd fuck her.

His thumb grazed her clit and a low sob was torn from her. His fingers inside her pressed up toward her pelvis as he sought a specific spot. When he found it, he pressed against it, and she keened against his lips as her whole body spasmed. He only had to tease her a few times before she came with a strangled cry.

He smothered it with his lips.

She collapsed against him and he withdrew his fingers and brought them up to his mouth. Then he dipped his head down, pressing a few kisses along the other side of her neck and then occupied himself with running his hands possessively over every inch of her.

The smell of him around her was positively drugging. She allowed herself to get lost in it, nuzzling her face against his chest. She could feel his rapid heartbeat and the tension running through him.

After several minutes she lifted her head and stared up at his face.

Alpha, please.

She wasn't sure if he wanted her to call him Alpha. 'Malfoy' seemed safe.

"Malfoy," she began tentatively.

"Mhmm?"

She bit her lip and her hand slipped down. She found his cock, straining against the fabric of his trousers. She ran her fingers along the outline and gripped it through his clothing.

The moment she touched him, he gave a low gasp and his entire body went still as though she'd petrified him. She ran her hand along the length of it.

He was huge. She knew he was, but actually feeling it was startling. Touching him, exploring the size, and feeling him freeze as he tried to control himself activated something possessive and claiming in her chest.

She felt—greedy. More. Mine. My Alpha.

She struggled to think clearly as she kept caressing him. She had to choose her words carefully.

"I know you said you weren't going to shag me here, but I did say no three times. So, we've established that I can. So, there isn't any reason why you still—can't."

Hermione's voice was unfamiliar sounding to her. Docile. Pleading. A part of her was affronted by it. But there was a subconscious need driving her at a level she couldn't rein in. If she didn't beg, she could at least coax.

She wanted him. She wanted his cock buried inside of her. Having him get her off was not enough. It wasn't what her instincts were telling her she wanted; it wasn't what she needed.

She wanted more than his attention. She wanted—him.

"To be clear, you're asking me to fuck you now?" he said in a thick, strained voice. His hips jerked involuntarily as she traced her fingers over the head of his cock.

She dropped her eyes demurely. "Yes."

"I don't—"

She gripped him firmly and looked up at him. "I want you," she said. Coaxingly. Searching for specific words that felt like the ones she was supposed to use. "I need you to—to take care of me. It's—it's—" she flushed faintly and dropped her eyes again, "it's not the same when you're not—when it's not actually sex."

It was difficult to explain. She was hoping he'd be able to just understand.

"You do make a very compelling argument," he said in a low voice. She shivered against his body.

"Please," she said. He twitched in her hand.

One of his hands came up and tangled firmly in her hair again, tilting her head back until her throat was fully bared. He kissed her, deeply, until she was gasping again his lips.

"Please," she moaned when he broke off the kiss.

"Only because you ask so nicely," he said, staring deep into her eyes as though he were looking for something. Then she felt him reach down between their bodies and open his trousers. A moment later the satiny skin his cock brushed against her thigh.

She felt her skin prickle with anticipation, and tugged her hair free from his hold in order to look down. He had his hand fisted around his cock, and was stroking it firmly. It was huge, rigid, and engorged; weeping precum.

"Are you sure, Granger?"

Hermione was tempted beg. To debase herself on the floor and plead with him. It was what her instincts urged and she was so desperate to have sex with him she felt tempted to give in. She forced herself to think carefully.

It might be another test.

The thought made her feel faintly irritated.

"I'm perfectly conscious of my decisions, Malfoy," she said in a sharp voice.

He gave a relieved sigh. Test passed.

Then he groaned.

"I got off right before I came here, and I was already hard the moment you walked into the library," he told her as his hand continued to pump slowly up and down his length.

She shivered.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he growled against her ear.

Hermione grabbed hold of his robes and tugged him closer, shifting her legs wider so that the head of his cock grazed her sex. She whimpered. "Alpha—Malfoy, fuck me," she whispered.

"Yes."

She was already balanced on the very edge of the table. He shifted slightly to align himself at the apex of her legs. Then they both stared down and watched as he prodded her with tip of his cock, parting her folds. He slid his cock up along her sex, brushing against her clit, and coating the length in her arousal before pulling back and slowly pushing in. His hands took hold of her hips, tilting her pelvis as he sank into her.

Hermione gasped and then forgot to breathe as she watched him disappearing inside of her. The sensation was—perfect.

Yes. Alpha. Alpha. Please.

She could feel her eyes growing larger and larger as she watched and he kept pressing in further. Then she gave a ragged moan and dropped her head back. She was barely holding herself up on the table. She could feel him stretching her, her walls gripping him, fluttering faintly around him.

"Fuck—" he groaned.

He kept sinking in deeper and deeper. He was so big. It seemed almost anatomically impossible that she could accommodate him; except she knew she could; that she had. She panted as she willed her body to relax into it; arching her back deeply to accept him.

He dipped his head down and pressed kisses across her breasts; she gasped and clenched around his cock.

The penetration was—it was like he filled her entire being. As though they sat in the centre of the universe and everything but him inside her was merely peripheral.

Rationally she knew, obviously, that Draco Malfoy's cock was not the centre of the universe; that there was in fact no centre of the universe. But that detail seemed irrelevant to how she currently felt.

Nothing was supposed to feel so good. She didn't even know how to think about it coherently, all she could think of was "Yes. Yes. More...like that."

Hermione murmured the words again and again like a mantra.

When he was buried in her to the hilt, he stilled with a gasp and dropped his head onto her shoulder. His hands on her hips were gripping her so tightly she suspected she'd have bruises. His entire body was shaking faintly as though he were on the outermost limits of the control he had been exercising to a point of excess.

He drew several sharp breaths through his teeth.

The rational side of Hermione recommended holding still, and waiting for him to steady himself. But the instinctive side—the side closer to the surface of her mind—thrilled at the edge.

She didn't want him composed. She wanted him possessive. Claiming. She wanted to feel the burn of it.

She rolled her hips, dragged her tongue over his scent gland and then nipped the skin there sharply.

He gave a ragged snarl and his hands gripped her harder as he pulled back and slammed into her.

"Mine. You're mine."

Yes.

Yes. Like that.

His hands slid possessively up her body as he drove into her again. He wrapped his arms around her until she felt enveloped in his hold. He crushed her against his body and she relished it.

"Mine ," he said, every time he thrust into her.

"You're mine. My Omega. Say it," he snarled it as he drove into her. Hard.

He was like fire. The heat of him burned away the whole world. He was her focal point. He was an inferno around her that she could lose herself in.

"Yours. I'm yours," she promised. She tangled her hand in his hair and drew his face up so she could study his expression greedily.

The way he stared at her made her feel as though she were the centre of the universe. The possessive intensity of his gaze, as though he owned her. As though he worshipped her.

When their eyes met, it was like their magic touched. She gasped and kissed him, wrapping herself around him as he thrust deep inside her.

"You're so perfect," he gasped against her lips. "I'm going to take care of you. I'll always—take care of you. Mine. My Omega."

Hermione's immediate reaction was to thrill at the words. To believe them and lose herself inside them

Then she remembered herself. Alpha promises. Any Alpha would say something similar to her. It was fundamental to their drive, to their instincts. They had to please Omegas and take care of them. There was nothing personally sincere in the words. Biology.

Even beyond the dynamic between herself and Malfoy, it was a sort of cardinal rule for girls to never believe anything a boy said during sex. Even Hermione knew that.

But—in the moment, he meant them. Draco Malfoy wouldn't. But her Alpha would. When he was her Alpha he meant it.

She let herself believe it a little.

"Alpha. Alpha," she keened and melted into him. He was heat and sweat; raw power and possession; huge and hard. A perfect Alpha. Her Alpha. Hers.

His thrusts were growing abbreviated and she felt him swelling inside of her until she felt him start to jerk inside her as he came. Hot. Filling her further when she was already full of him. The sensation activated something in her and her orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. She felt her muscles gripping him as she came apart in his arms, his mouth catching every sound as he continued to kiss her.

It was—

Too much.

Too emotional. Too physical. As though every part of her were coming apart and she was going to break from it. The previous two orgasms were like spring rain compared to a typhoon.

Everything struck her. All her emotions: her grief and frustration and stress and rage and uncertainty of the last three weeks. Her desperate yearning for Malfoy and the instinctive despair at his overt rejection for so many weeks.

There was nowhere to go. She twisted in his arms trying to escape. She couldn't. He was inside her. He was crushing her against himself as he gasped and promised her everything in the world.

She couldn't escape what was happening. Her orgasm tore through her very soul. The sensations and emotions just kept building and growing into a larger and larger wave. It wouldn't stop.

She couldn't hold it in.

She burst into tears.

She couldn't stop crying. She cried and cried even as her body shattered around him.

"It's alright. You're alright. Good girl. You're so perfect," Malfoy was saying to her, holding her tightly against him, even as he kept jerking inside her. He ran his tongue across the glands on her neck and growled his praise and promises to her. "Good girl. You're so perfect."

When he stilled with groan he only slumped for a moment before he roused himself and started running his hands over her and wiping away the tears she was still crying.

"Good girl. Good girl. I'm so pleased with you," he said, stroking her scent glands lightly with his thumbs until her sobbing subsided somewhat and she calmed down.

She felt her face grow scarlet as she began to appreciate the spectacular embarrassment of bawling in the middle of orgasming. Malfoy was never ever going to trust her decision making abilities or have sex with her ever again.

"Sorry," Hermione said, writhing internally as she tried to wipe away all her tears as rapidly as possible. If his cock were not quite literally trapped inside her body, she probably would have bolted. "My god, I'm so sorry. I don't—I don't know why I started crying."

His eyes widened.

"Oh, fuck. Sorry. I thought you knew," he said, and picked her up off the table and dropped into a chair. "It's normal—for Omegas—if it's been a while since they had sex."

Hermione blinked confusedly and her horror faded as he arranged her in his lap, tousled her hair, and kissed her on the forehead, and generally failed to give the impression that he was upset with her and never wanted to shag her again.

"I didn't know that," she said, as his hands began gliding up and down her back and gently caressing her neck so that she collapsed limply against his chest. He was so warm. Post-orgasms and weeping, she felt as drowsy as a cat in the sunshine lying on top of him; his heat radiating into her. She wished they were wearing less clothing—none preferably. "None of my books mentioned crying. Well...I guess they said that it was intensely emotional and cathartic, but none of them specified that that meant bawling when I came."

She felt extremely annoyed.

"Wait, you've primarily got textbooks don't you?" His hands had wandered down to her wrists and he started playing his fingers against her glands there. The sensation made her inner walls flutter around him and he gave a groan and jerked slightly.

She tiredly nuzzled her face against his shoulder and started running her fingers along his glands. She furrowed her eyebrows. "I have pretty much all of the books on Omegas that are in print. As well as the research papers that have been published. There isn't really very much that I could find. Most of it is either vague or absurd."

"Right. You need personal journals. I'm sure you realize, Omegas are quite private, they're not going to disclose much to researchers. They probably lie sometimes too."

Hermione buried her face against him feeling frustrated.

"Well, I don't even know how to get ahold of private journals," she said bitterly. "So far my only primary source is Molly Weasley, but since she never actually presented her experience is entirely different. She knows about the social aspects and pureblood traditions, but there are a lot of biological aspects she doesn't understand."

"Well, the Malfoy library has a few private journals," Malfoy said slowly. "There have been a few Omegas married into the family over the centuries, and book hoarding is a family tradition. My mother sent a few to me yesterday. One of them mentioned crying during sex, because it's a sort of—bonding—reconnecting process. I could lend the journals to you."

Her heart leapt. "You would?"

"Certainly."

"Thank you ," she said. "That's—that would be—" He was still stroking her scent glands, she wasn't sure if he were aware of it or if it were a subconscious instinct. It was making her head fog as she struggled against falling asleep on top of him.

You're safe. You're always safe here.

"Nice...," she finally managed to say. Her fingers were still resting against his neck and she burrowed her face against his neck on the other side as her eyes drooped. "Thanks, Malfoy, for being so nice."

She felt him chuckle. It vibrated through her body. "Anything for you."

Her mouth twitched as she tiredly nuzzled him again.

Don't fall asleep, she told herself. Don't fall—asleep...

When she woke Malfoy was asleep too. His head was resting against hers, his arms wrapped around her. It was lovely. She would happily stay there till she died. She could still feel him inside of her although the knot as the base of his cock had eased. They simply hadn't moved enough to separate.

She shifted her head slightly and caught sight of a luminous tabby cat sitting on the table beside them.

Hermione gave a small, horrified scream and Malfoy immediately jerked awake, grabbing her firmly and shoving her protectively behind himself as he sprang to his feet.

The luminous cat flicked its tail and stood, stretching and yawning before it looked up at them. Hermione and Malfoy were both indecently and haphazardly attired.

"Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger, when you're done in the library I would like to see you both in my office," said the cat patronus in Minerva McGonagall's voice.

When it finished speaking it dissolved into thin air.

There was a horrified silence.

"Fuck," Malfoy finally said.

"Oh my god," Hermione moaned behind him, feeling ready to pass out with embarrassment. "Oh my god."

As she was standing behind him she could feel his come sliding like a veritable waterfall down the insides of her thighs. She snatched her wand out of her satchel and banished it and started hurriedly straightening her clothing; pulling her bra back over her breasts, straightening her knickers, and rebuttoning her shirt.

When she finished she glanced over at Malfoy who had also straightened his clothing and was staring over at her with an indecipherable expression.

"I'll tell her it was my idea," she said nervously. "You don't have to worry."

He gave a faint nod.

"How on earth did she know?" Hermione wondered aloud, feeling unable to stop talking. "I mean, you had the aisle pretty heavily disillusioned, there's no way anyone would have come here. And I can't imagine the other Alphas would have gone to her. Or maybe they would have. I don't know. They confuse me so much."

"I think it may have been me," Malfoy said, flushing faintly as he shoved several books into his bag.

Hermione looked at him in confusion.

"Alphas—subconsciously generate wards, to keep other Alphas away," he said. Hermione nodded as she recalled the detail of Alpha magi-biology. "I thought I had it under control but—I lost control and—forgot about it."

He had turned bright red and Hermione felt a rush of warmth across her chest. She didn't think she'd ever seen Malfoy blush before.

He looked adorable.

Snog him, her instincts advised. She tried to ignore them.

"It's not your fault," she said, flushing faintly herself. "I wanted you to—lose control."

She felt warm just thinking about the moment when he had.

That moment. If she could repeat it every day for the rest of her life—she would. She absolutely would.

She looked through her lashes at Malfoy and found his eyes were darkening as they stood across from each other. She gave a low whimper.

She wanted to kiss him again before she had to walk out into reality again.

They had time for that, did they?

After all, McGonagall hadn't specified that they needed to come immediately upon receiving the message, simply when they were done in the library...

They didn't necessarily have to be done yet.

Hermione gnawed at her lip as she stared at Malfoy and weighed the choices.

Then it occurred to her that she, Hermione Granger, was seriously contemplating ignoring a message from the Headmistress of Hogwarts in favour of snogging a boy.

"We should probably go," she said wistfully; wishing for the first time in her life that she were a less responsible person. She was utterly dreading the impending conversation.

"We should," Malfoy said without moving. He was staring at her mouth. As she looked at him his tongue darted out and wetted his lips.

Hermione's mind blanked slightly.

"McGonagall said we should come as soon as we're—done," she said in a thick voice, finding her own eyes locked on his mouth, wondering if he might lick his lips again.

"She did."

"So..." Why was her voice climbing again?

Malfoy stepped toward her. "So, we'll go when we're done," he said huskily as he backed her into a bookshelf.

"Right," she said in a breathless voice as his head dipped down.

His eyes were like molten silver; as though she could feel the heat in them as his face drew closer to hers.

As their lips brushed against each other it occurred to her with a bittersweet pang that Draco Malfoy was going to leave a lifelong mark on her. No matter where she went from her eighth year, he was going to be part of her. On a fundamental emotional level she had entwined herself around him like a Gordian Knot. Her instincts didn't know how regard him as anything less than Hers.

She shivered as his lips caressed hers, and she felt his mouth curve into a faint smirk as his knee pressed between her legs. Her back arched as she kissed him and one of his hands came up and rested at the base of her throat, brushing against the glands on both sides of her neck.

She moaned and he deepened the kiss. His other hand slid to the small of her back and pressed her up against himself.

She had no idea how long they stood there snogging. A long time, she suspected. Longer than she'd ever snogged anyone else in her entire life. For a while she suspected he was going to shag her again, but he seemed primarily preoccupied with scent-marking on her until the air was thick with his pheromones.

She felt quite literally doused by him.

He pinned her hands over her head and licked the insides of her wrists and both sides of her neck until she was incoherent and trembling. Then he licked every exposed bit of skin that he could get to without removing her clothing. He dragged the tip of his tongue from her hairline, down between her eyes, and to the tip of her nose. He kissed across her face and she felt the his tongue flick out and dart across her skin with each kiss.

He dragged his tongue down her throat in long, slow, strokes until she was loudly moaning and tugging at his hold on her wrists.

By the time he was done, she felt high.

Alpha. Alpha. My Alpha. Mine. Her mind was chanting almost deliriously.

Considering that her sense of smell was barely elevated compared to Alphas', she was fairly certain that she was going to be walking through the halls proclaiming "Malfoy's" to them with the subtlety of a bludger to the face.

Malfoy kissed her one final time and then released her wrists and stepped back. His eyes dark, his face predatory and smug.

"That should last for a least a day," he said with a smirk.

"A day?" she said dazedly, sliding down the bookshelf as her legs failed her.

"If not, I'm sure I can find time between classes to do it again," he said in a low voice.

Fuck me, please, her mind moaned and she nearly collapsed onto the floor.

Why was she at school? Couldn't she and Malfoy just go to a hotel somewhere and have sex for forever?

Malfoy seemed to realize she was barely lucid. He caught her by the hand before she had sunk all the way to the floor and pulled her into his arms.

"Are you alright, Granger?"

"Mhhhmmm," she said, burying her face into his chest.

"We should go see the Headmistress now," he said in a serious voice.

Hermione started as she abruptly remembered they had been summoned; that McGonagall very, very likely knew that she and Malfoy had just had sex in the library. She could already hear the impending conversation with her former Head of House. "You see, Headmistress, you asked if I had any ideas regarding preventive measures to protect myself, and I have concluded that the surest means will be by having regular sex with Malfoy even though it violates at least fifteen different school ordinances."

She gave a small sound of despair and Malfoy's arms wrapped around her.

"Come on now, Granger," he told her after a minute.

Since when was Malfoy the responsible one? She nodded resignedly and stepped away from him, straightening her clothes for the second time that evening.

They snuck out of the empty library and stopped at the first set of bathrooms before continuing on to the Headmistress' office. The gargoyle snickered as it let in and Hermione's face felt as though she were on the verge of spontaneously combusting as she made her way up the steps, Malfoy behind her.

Malfoy's expression immediately grew cool and mask-like as he reached the top of the stairs.

McGonagall was seated at her desk surrounded by paperwork as they entered the office. She immediately set her quill down and stared at them both over her spectacles.

"Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy, please sit down."

Hermione sank anxiously onto the edge of her chair.

"This evening, a few minutes past seven, a repulsion ward abruptly forced all the students and faculty members bodily from the library," said McGonagall, with a pointed expression.

Hermione glanced surreptitiously over at Malfoy. His expression was carefully neutral, but his cheeks were stained scarlet.

"There were several futile attempts to neutralize it. Unfortunately the magic was quite impenetrable, much like some wards I encountered at the end of last month."

Both Hermione and Malfoy shifted uncomfortably before the Headmistress' unrelenting gaze.

"It's all my—," Hermione started.

"It was mine," Malfoy announced. Hermione looked sharply over at him.

"I am aware of whose magic it was," McGonagall said, and the corner of her mouth twitched.

"It was my fault though," Hermione blurted. "He only did it because I asked."

"I am aware of that too," McGonagall said and the corner of her mouth twitched once again. Hermione blinked and wondered if she'd imagined it. "As it happens, there are small portraits kept in all the dungeon classrooms."

Hermione stared aghast.

"I had intended to speak to you both sooner. Unfortunately I had other matters within the school that required my immediate attention. However, the situation in the library has clearly demonstrated that it was an oversight. I am sure that as former prefects you are both aware that sexual intercourse is strictly prohibited on school grounds and can be grounds for expulsion—"

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face and found herself gripping Malfoy's hand in a vice-like hold.

"It's all my fault," she said in a shaking voice. "I am entirely responsible. Malfoy—you shouldn't blame Malfoy."

"I am not intending to expel either of you," McGonagall said tartly with an affronted expression. "After all, this is hardly the first time you have had sex with each other in this school. As I was saying, as a general rule sexual intercourse is prohibited. However, there are certain contexts in which, as Headmistress, I am empowered to make exceptions to Hogwarts' ordinances. Miss Granger, as an Omega it is advisable for you to have an Alpha in order to maintain both your autonomy and mental health. Medically advisable, in fact. I have a letter from a healer to confirm it. It would also have a stabilizing effect on the behavior of the other Alphas here in the school. Therefore, you and Mr Malfoy may continue your—liaison, with the understanding that you will both exercise utmost discretion and not interfere with the academic pursuits of other students again in the future."

Hermione thought she might possibly be hallucinating, but she nodded vigorously nonetheless.

"In consideration for the need for discretion, particularly given the unique—biological factors, and your respective Houses, I'm going to provide you with a private room. I believe you'll be able to find it, as you have both already spent several days together there. The password is 'kismet.'"

There was a stunned silence after that. Hermione was still gripping Malfoy's hand and sat staring at McGonagall with her mouth hanging open. Malfoy looked similarly astonished.

McGonagall stared at them with a smug cat-like smile playing about her lips.

"Assuming that is amenable to you both, I'll dismiss you. It's ten minutes until curfew. Please return to your respective dorms."

"Yes, Headmistress," Hermione said in a wobbling voice as she stood up. "Thank you. Thank you."

Malfoy stood and his expression seemed calculating as he stared at McGonagall. "Thank you, Headmistress. I appreciate your consideration," he said.

McGonagall met his gaze. "Miss Granger merits such things, don't you agree?"

"Assuredly," he said coolly.

"Goodnight then, Mr Malfoy."

Hermione and Malfoy descended the steps in silence and then both stood stunned for a minute in the hallway as they absorbed the conversion they'd had.

Hermione glanced over as Malfoy. His expression was still closed and calculating; his posture tense. Perhaps he was worried their 'liaison' might get out.

"I'm sure McGonagall won't tell anyone," she said nervously.

"I'd be astonished if she did," he said. "She's always quite protective of her lion cubs."

Hermione flushed faintly. It wasn't just favouritism was it? Surely McGonagall would help any Hogwarts student in a similar situation.

Then again, McGonagall did have a tendency to assume the worst about Slytherins.

Hermione didn't know what to say.

"Goodnight, Malfoy," she finally said, stepping away as she prepared to head toward the Gryffindor Tower.

He looked down at her with his calculating, quicksilver eyes and smirked. "I'll see you around, Granger."