Hermione had never envisioned herself as the sort of person who would have a torrid, secret, inter-house love affair while at Hogwarts. The premise was like one of the ridiculously bawdy wizarding romance novels in the literature section of Flourish & Blotts.

Hogwarts Love Affairs was its own, highly popular subsection, occupying multiple shelves. The books were strictly banned by Filch. Parvati and Lavender had smuggled them in anyway and read them voraciously, which was why Hermione knew about them.

She had never actually read any—well, she may have skimmed a few, purely out of intellectual curiosity.

Slytherin and Gryffindor was the classic secret relationship pairing; the ultimate star-crossed lovers. The inter-house rivalry always set the two characters at odds but the sexual tension between them would become undeniable. Eventually some plot device would force them together: a potions incident, trapped in the library, forced class partnership, or an implausible situation in which they had to share a private common room. The burgeoning desire would become irresistible. They would kiss. They would be horrified. They would declare that it would never happen again. Then the two characters would proceed to shag each other on every flat surface in the castle.

The number of iterations on the same trope that was a testament to wizarding creativity.

Hermione had always thought the books were rather hilarious. Did romance novelists really think Hogwarts' faculty would ever allow two teenagers to have a private room? Or that the prefects didn't know about every alcove and broom closet in the castle? What dutiful student would dare have sex in the prefects' bath? It sounded hazardously slippery. It was well-nigh impossible to smuggle someone through a common room without being noticed.

Almost everything about the stories had made Hermione snort derisively over the sheer implausibility as she snuck Parvati's books back onto their shelf.

In retrospect, perhaps not everything about the stories was implausible.

For one thing, Prefects weren't on patrol until curfew.

Malfoy found her in walking down a hallway after breakfast the next morning and dragged her into an alcove concealed behind a tapestry.

"Granger," was all he said by way of greeting before he kissed her. There was a flush of magic that shivered between them as his lips touched hers and she moaned softly.

"I thought—," she started when he started kissing along her jaw. "I thought we weren't supposed to—"

Her voice faded away as he slid a hand up her shirt and under her bra. He was already kissing down her neck toward her scent glands. She felt her whole body going slack in anticipation as she felt the heat of his mouth getting closer to them.

"Nghhh..." she said and her knees gave out.

Malfoy just pinned her to wall as he gave a long hard lick over her left scent gland.

"Oh god!" she choked.

He spent several minutes licking her scent glands and groping her before slipping a hand between her legs and pressing the heel of his hand against her clit. She bucked and ground against him.

"I'm going to fuck you tonight, Granger," he growled against her throat and his fingers twisted her clit through the fabric of her knickers and she sobbed faintly. "I'm going to lick every inch of you. And I'm going to fuck you at least twice."

Yes. Yes. Please Alpha.

"Also, I need your timetable. You have mine," he said as his fingers remained between her legs until she was trembling. "It will be easier to know when I can do this to you, if I know your schedule."

He played with her clit for a few more seconds until Hermione hit a peak. The shockwaves of her orgasm obliterated everything for several seconds and she slumped against him. Then she shakily gripped his robes and tilted her head back, trying to catch her breath.

"I—thought we were supposed to use our room," she finally said.

He smirked. "I'm not shagging you. This was merely precautionary scent-marking."

"Ahh," she said, still feeling somewhat lost in a fog of arousal. She was fairly sure McGonagall hadn't intended for Malfoy to be getting Hermione off in alcoves, but in her post-orgasmic state she was in no frame of mind to press the issue. "I have a copy of my timetable. I meant to give it to you last night. But—you distracted me."

His eyes glittered with amusement as he stared at her in the dim light behind the tapestry.

"It's in my satchel back at the tower. I can give it to you at Arithmancy or—tonight."

"Tonight. What time?"

"After dinner? Whoever gets there first can study? Unless, do you have any other plans in the evening? Will people notice if you're not around?"

"No. I'm available," he said in a clipped voice.

"Alright. I'll see you then, I suppose," she said, starting the straighten her clothes.

"Right. See you around then, Granger."

He disappeared through the tapestry.

Hermione didn't see Malfoy again until Arithmancy after lunch. As usual, he was already in the classroom when she arrived and barely glanced up at her.

When Theodore Nott walked into the classroom, he froze, sniffed and then proceeded to nearly trip over a desk. He stared dazedly at Hermione for a minute before slamming his books down next to Malfoy and sitting down.

Hermione watched Nott mutter something to Malfoy. Malfoy ignored him.

Nott's reaction to realizing that Hermione and Malfoy had resumed shagging was one of the more subtle ones. There were several points deductions that day for cursing. Peter Selwyn and the other Alpha's forward friendliness abruptly faded once more.

Hermione was not surprised, but it stung slightly to be so overtly reminded that there was only one reason any of them had paid attention to her. She ignored the train of thought and looked forward to finally being left alone to study in the library again.

She found an empty table in the Transfiguration section and was pulling her books out when Pansy Parkinson materialized.

Hermione ignored the girl and set to uncapping her inkwell and shuffling through her parchment scrolls for her transfiguration essay.

There was a faint grinding sound.

Hermione looked up to find that Pansy had conjured a nail file and was shaping her fingernails with a thoughtful expression. Hermione stared at Pansy with irritation. Pansy's hair was cut in a sleek bob so sharp Hermione wondered if she'd gelled the tips. Her features were slimmed and sharpened and her eyes managed to be glinting even as she languorously filed her nails, filling the air with alpha-keratin dust.

Finally Pansy stopped and banished the nail file before looking Hermione up and down as though making a mental catalogue.

"So," Pansy finally said, after doing a second impersonal perusal of Hermione, "does it mean you're a pureblood?"

"What?"

Pansy's mouth twitched. "Do you know one of the most valuable things when you're a woman?"

Pansy only waited a split second before answering her own question. "Information. That's our currency. Not from your stupid books, but all the tiny details. The careless glances. The unusual absences. Who's fighting and why. All the little things that add up to something—incendiary."

Pansy stared at Hermione pointedly and the sharp tips of her bob trembled faintly.

Hermione swallowed.

"I realized, because I'm not an idiot, that there had to be an Omega at the school. Anyone who pays attention to the Alphas had to realize it. But I'll admit, it didn't occur to me until Friday that it could possibly be you."

"What do you want, Parkinson?" Hermione's voice was tight and she gripped her quill so firmly it started to bend.

Pansy sniffed and gave a razor-edged smile. "Don't get your knickers in a twist, Granger, I'm here to do you a favour."

Hermione blinked. "What?"

Pansy's mouth twitched again and Hermione realized that despite leaning casually against the table, Pansy's knuckles were white and her shoulders nearly shaking with tension.

"I'm not very popular this year," Pansy said with a quick, indifferent shrug of her shoulders. "No one would agree to pair with me for patrols."

There was a pause and Hermione had a creeping realization even before Pansy continued.

"Goldstein volunteered. I was rather touched that he had—until he shoved me into a classroom the first night. I'm not quick—at dueling."

Pansy looked down and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"After he was done, he said no one would ever believe me. Because he was a war hero, and I—was the girl who tried to hand Harry Potter over to Vold—Vold—He Who Must Not Be Named. So—if I reported it, people would just think I was making it up, to be victim and get the attention. Who ever believes Slytherins anyway?"

Pansy's hands were gripping the table and making it shake faintly.

"If I turned my prefect badge in, it would have been Tracy or Daphne instead. They're not any good at dueling either. Last Friday when he wanted to walk you back to your dorm, I was so relieved. I told myself that you were a good duelist, so he wouldn't dare with you. But I felt guilty about it, so I went back. The Alphas were all there by then, panicking and asking what happened to you and the professors were trying to find you. And I realized what you are. So, I'm sorry about that."

Hermione sat frozen. "I'm so sorry, Parkinson. Do you want me to help you report it?"

Pansy scoffed. "I'm not here for your pity, Granger. Or because I'm interested in becoming some sad little victim. I'm fine."

Hermione did not think Pansy was fine. Hermione had a slight idea of what "fine" felt like in the aftermath of Anthony Goldstein.

"Thanks to you, everyone knows what kind of a person Goldstein is. Stripped of his prefect status. I'll never have to do rounds with him again. Longbottom had a fit that he isn't expelled. So, I owe you."

"You don't. There's nothing to owe," Hermione said.

Pansy arched an eyebrow and turned on Hermione sharply. "Even Slytherins repay debts, Granger. I'm sure you think we're all amoral, but we do occasionally possess small quantities of basic decency."

"I didn't mean—"

"Oh so, it's alright that I let myself walk away knowing the risk?"

"No. I'm not saying that either," Hermione said. "I just mean, you didn't know. And you don't need to owe anyone. That should never have happened to you. I'm so sorry he did that. There's nothing to owe or repay me for."

Pansy sniffed and shrugged. "I don't think you understand the concept of debt. It's a matter of honor; which I possess alongside my small quantity of basic decency."

"I'm not questioning your honour, Pansy," Hermione said shaking her head. "I'm just saying that you don't have anything to owe me."

Pansy rolled her eyes and sneered. "Well, clearly I'll have to figure out how to discharge it myself, since Gryffindors apparently have trouble with the mere concept."

Before Hermione could formulate an offended reply, Pansy straightened and proceeded to stride away; her shoes clicking sharply on the library floor.

Hermione sat in thought for several minutes, feeling at a loss. She didn't really know anything about Pansy Parkinson aside from the girl's past relationship with Malfoy. She felt as though she should do something, but she had no idea what could possibly be helpful.

Finally Hermione turned back to her Transfiguration essay with a sigh. She had written seven inches when Ginny dropped unceremoniously into the chair beside her.

"You're in the library again."

Hermione felt herself blush slightly. "Erm. Yes. That's me. The girl in the library."

Ginny stared pointedly at Hermione, and Hermione stared pointedly down at her Transfiguration essay.

"Hermione..." Ginny said in a warning tone. "You have barely entered the library in the last two weeks without getting swarmed. Over the weekend you didn't even leave your room. And now you're here, and half the Alphas in the school are sulking three aisles away as though someone stole their pet Pygmy Puff."

"Well, you know I was researching over the weekend. I figured out a solution," Hermione said vaguely.

"Did the solution you found have anything to do with my being picked up and thrown head first out of the library last night?"

Hermione stared at Ginny aghast. "You were there?"

A triumphant smile crept across Ginny's face.

"I knew it!" Ginny crowed. "I knew that was Alpha magic. McGonagall refused to say but Neville looked ready to combust. I know how Alpha wards work."

Hermione stared down at her essay again.

"So who are you shagging? Obviously not Neville. Or Selwyn. They were both there last night. Is it that boy from Hufflepuff? What's his name, the one who looks like stringbean. Meyers? Melvin?"

"No."

"Wait... McGonagall also refused to say how exactly Goldstein got pulled off of you, but Saturday morning Slytherin had thirty new points. It's a Slytherin isn't it? Is it—Nott?

"No," Hermione said in a very small voice.

There was a long and pregnant silence.

"Well, I'm positive you aren't shagging Borgin," Ginny finally. "So that only leaves one other Slytherin Alpha."

"You cannot tell Ron or Harry," Hermione said without looking up from her essay. "If they find out I will murder both you and Neville."

"Oh my god, you really actually are—with Malfoy? And you did it in the library last night?"

Hermione wondered if she could escape Ginny by hiding under the table.

"How on earth—?" Ginny's voice cracked slightly with incredulity.

"Well, by odd coincidence, he was actually with me during my heat," Hermione said in a low voice. "That was why, at first the other Alphas were keeping their distance—because of how he—scent-marked. But then it wore off, which was why Goldstein tried—" her voice broke off briefly. "So Malfoy and I are—again."

"How did that—I mean, I just feel like of all the Alphas in the school he would be the last one you'd ever let touch you."

"He's actually fairly nice about it," Hermione said quietly. "It not—we aren't—it's just casual. There's a line. That's part of why it works. Because he doesn't have any interest in me. He's not going to do anything that ruins his bloodline. So it's just sex. Because of the biology."

"Really?" Ginny said in a doubtful tone. "Does it work that way?"

"Really. It's just casual and temporary. Until I figure out a long term solution I can live with. So don't you dare tell Harry or Ron."

"Fine, I won't. But I'm going to be keeping an eye on you both."

"Thanks, Mum," Hermione muttered under her breath.

There was a lull in the conversation.

"So...is he good in bed?" Ginny prodded.

Hermione's quill dropped a massive blot of ink onto the middle of a paragraph. She cursed and tried to remove it before glaring at Ginny scarlet-faced. "I am not discussing my sex life with you," she hissed.

Ginny looked unabashed and smirked. "So very good then? I've heard that Daphne Greengrass has been practically hounding him all year, so there's obviously some kind of reputation there. Has he earned many O's from you, Hermione?" Ginny leered as salaciously as possible 

Hermione hadn't thought she could blush harder, but she felt the heat radiate down to her chest as she refused to answer the question.

Ginny snickered and sat back. "Well, they do say that Alphas are extremely attentive in bed. They practically get off from being in control. They can't help it."

"I am not talking about this," Hermione said flatly. "I need to finish this essay before my next class."

Ginny gave a dramatic sigh, pulled a book out, and left Hermione alone until Hermione had to leave for History of Magic.

That evening, before heading down the dinner Hermione pulled the curtains around her bed closed and cast a privacy charm on them. Malfoy wasn't in the Great Hall but Theodore Nott was and he stared at Hermione thoughtfully throughout the meal until she felt tempted to blush under the scrutiny. She couldn't decide what she thought of the Slytherin boy; his behavior was nearly as bewildering as Malfoy's.

Hermione was distracted as she ate. She was getting ridiculously wet with anticipation. It was horrifying; she knew the Alphas could probably smell it. She ate as quickly as possible and then rushed from the Great Hall toward the abandoned wing of Hogwarts.

"Kismet," she said softly and wondered about the word choice as the door swung open.

She didn't have long to think about it. She had barely stepped through the door before it slammed shut behind her and Malfoy had her pressed against the wall as he kissed her.

It was as though the whole world just vanished.

They tore each other's clothes off. She felt just desperate for his skin. To touch him. Her fingers practically itched as she tugged as the buttons on his shirt.

Hermione just let her mind slide back and let her instincts seize control as she dragged her tongue down his neck and practically climbed into his arms as he kissed her.

He laughed against her lips. Hermione didn't think she'd ever heard Malfoy laugh when he wasn't making fun of someone. But his laugh wasn't mocking, it was genuine sounding and pleased.

"Miss me, then?" he asked as he pulled her legs around his waist and carried her across the floor still kissing her.

"Mhm," she admitted before biting his ear lightly. Then she shoved his shirt off of his shoulders and traced her fingers along his muscles before following with her lips 

He laid her out on the bed and pulled the rest of her clothes off.

She felt wanton under him. Spending the whole day waiting for evening, she was slick, dripping. He peeled her knickers off and then spread her legs wide and stared down at her. She just lay there exposed while her mind begged him to be pleased with her.

She had a thousand things she wanted to ask him. Could they sleep there? Would that be alright? If they couldn't, could she have one of his shirts? What exactly was casual and fun? Could he explain so she wouldn't have to worry about ruining things? Why did he just leave after her heat? Could they ever talk? Could he ever like her? Was it because she was Muggleborn or was there some other reason he wouldn't even look at her in public after she'd presented? He'd talked to her before. Was that because she hadn't let him leave during her heat? Or did she do something else she couldn't remember? Why did he leave? Why wouldn't he look at her?

Don't get clingy, Hermione, she reminded herself.

She bit her lip and let him drag his hand through her arousal before spreading her sex open and smirking to himself.

"Alpha—Malfoy, please..." she whimpered.

He unraveled something in her that she didn't know how to articulate; as though he could build up or rip away the whole world from under her. The feeling terrified her but she wanted him so fundamentally she couldn't resist the the way he lured her in.

From the moment he kissed her again in the classroom, wanting him to scent-mark on her for the sake of her protection had become only an aspect of why she wanted him. She just wanted him.

It scared her, what she might be willing to let him do in order to earn his praise. His touch and gaze was electric

"Good girl," he growled, before dragging his tongue across her sex.

He didn't need to. The mere scent of him on her skin was enough to keep her primed and eager for him. The books on the subject had detailed the surge of hormones. For the next decade at least she would be randier than a teenage boy. With the lifespan of wizarding folk, fertility lasted several decades longer than it did among Muggles.

She wriggled under him and then sobbed as he continued his assault against her folds until she was trying to tear herself away from the sensory overload.

"Please—," she begged.

Please, anything. Anything he wanted, she'd be good and give him.

It was too much, but if he told her to she'd hold still. Anything her Alpha wanted, she'd want to too.

Malfoy seemed to realize she'd gone somewhere too far into the fog. He slithered up her body and dragged his tongue across her glands until she stilled.

"I need—," she said dazedly.

"I'll take care of you," he promised against her throat. "Open for me, Omega."

She parted her legs for him, holding them under the knees as he sank into her. Then she wrapped her arms and legs around him and clung to his shoulders; feeling his heartbeat as their bodies pressed together.

When he came, he didn't knot inside her. Instead he pulled out slightly so that his knot stayed outside her body. She still came when he did, but it cut the intensity. Then he panted and pulled out of her, and she felt a fear cut straight through her, thinking it meant he was just going to leave.

He didn't leave.

He pulled her up in the bed and proceeded to touch her all over; scenting and making good on his promise to lick every inch of her. He muttered to her about what a good girl she was, how perfect he found her. He sucked each of her fingers into his mouth until they were coated with his saliva, and licked her palms, and down her arms and the crooks of her elbows. It felt rather like being groomed by an enormous and possessive cat.

It was bewildering and lovely, and Hermione felt as though she were melting into a puddle on the mattress. Any attention he would give her she wanted. When she tried to rouse herself and touch him too he just pinned her down with a growl.

Controlling, as Ginny had said.

Then he reached between her legs and to her astonishment, proceeded to dip his fingers into her and pull out his seed and rub it into her glands on her neck and wrists. He stared at her while he did it as though waiting to see if she were going to object. Hermione was fairly sure she'd let him do anything he wanted to her. If he'd asked to bite her she would have just arched her neck back for him.

It frightened her how willing she'd be. She was afraid she might someday beg him to.

"I'm going fuck you again now," he said and she nodded, even though his cock still had a knot at the base of it and she wasn't sure how he intended to do it.

He rolled her over into her stomach and then pulled her hips into the air until her back was sharply arched. She felt herself sinking into the pose, shifting her legs further apart until she was presented to him. Lordosis behavior, she registered vaguely.

He ran his hands over the curve of her arse and slowly traced along her spine. Then he wrapped his long fingers around her hip bones to hold her in place and sank into her with a single thrust.

A deep, ragged moan rolled out of Hermione. Despite still having a knot at the base of his cock, with the angle and his size, she still felt stretched around him. The angle was mind-bendingly delightful. He leaned over her and gripped her by her wrists as he drove her rapidly up toward her orgasm. She was screaming into the sheets even before he came, and the sensation of his hot seed, against her cervix—filling her—just added waves upon waves of pleasure.

When he pulled out she felt his come sliding down her thighs as he kissed her cheek and then dropped on the mattress and proceeded to licked her everywhere once again.

Hermione didn't think her books had made any mention to such an obsessive level of scent-marking, but her whole mind gave itself to him.

Then when his knot finally subsided he rolled her over and fucked her again. That time he knotted inside her and all his promises poured from his lips.

"You perfect, perfect girl," he panted as he shifted them so that she was lying on top of him.

"Can we sleep here, Malfoy?" she asked tentatively, sinking against his chest and rubbing her cheek against his pectorals.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere right now," he said dryly.

She took hold of his wrist and licked his gland there. He moaned faintly and she gripped his wrist more tightly and licked him harder until she felt him twitch inside of her. Then she slowly dragged her tongue up his hand and sucked on each of his fingers until he abruptly wrenched it away.

"That is enough," he growled in a thick voice, staring at her with hooded eyes. "Keep it up and I'll never be able to pull out of you."

Hermione burst out laughing and he looked surprised for a moment before smiling back at her.

"Oh! I have my timetable in my satchel for you," she said and his eyes gleamed.

"I brought the journals. I'll get them out when I can move independently of you," he said with a smirk.

She buried her face in his chest with a laugh. He smelled like sweat and pheromones; so edible it suddenly made perfect sense how he could spend so much time licking her. If she were even half as addictive smelling, it would be hard to ever stop. She dragged her tongue across his skin and then entwined her fingers with his, smelling him. She burrowed against his hot skin, absorbing the heat he radiated. It was—home.

When he drifted to sleep, she followed him.

The next morning the sun was barely lighting the horizon when she woke to Malfoy sliding his hand free from her grip and shifting out from under her. She almost spoke but something stopped her. She didn't know how to talk to him when it was them.

Don't go. Say goodbye. Will I see you again today? Please don't leave me, Alpha.  

She stayed limp and watched him through her lashes.

His expression was drawn as he stared down at her. He reached toward her and Hermione's heartbeat sped up. But before he touched her, he suddenly froze and his expression hardened. He pulled his hand away and then stood up, gathered his clothes, redressed. Before he left he pulled several books out of his satchel and placed them on the bedside table beside her. Then he flipped her satchel open and pulled out the scroll of parchment with his name on it.

He stared over at her for a moment longer before turning on his heel and leaving quietly.

It didn't take long for them to find a sort of rhythm with each other. However things with Malfoy were—strange. Hermione wasn't quite sure how to interpret their interactions.

It felt as though he were two separate people.

As her Alpha he was warm and attentive. But it was as though there were a switch and suddenly he wasn't anymore. He would become cold and cool and capable of behaving as though she didn't exist.

During the day he was detached in a way Hermione didn't know how to be. She couldn't stop herself from looking at him; in the Great Hall or in the hallways or classes. It was like the whole world faded away the moment she registered that he was nearby. When she answered questions correctly in class, her immediate impulse was to look over at him in the hopes that he'd somehow be impressed with her.

She had initially expected that the intensity of his affect on her would diminish if they were shagging regularly. But it was the reverse. Every time he shagged her it felt more intense; more emotional. She was more attuned to him every time. As though he were enmeshing himself with her.

Within a matter of days she found herself increasingly indifferent to the other Alphas. Their voices and scents and appeal to her faded away, because they weren't hers and she didn't want them.

She just wanted Malfoy. More and more. Every day.

Malfoy would track her down several times a day to snog and scent-mark on her and get her off before shagging her brains out in the evenings.

Despite the fact that Hermione was the one in possession of the Marauder's Map, Malfoy was far more efficient at finding her than she was at finding him. She had to find a spot where she could safely pull out her map and study it. He was capable of tracking her down like a bloodhound. He did so regularly, with astonishing, almost frightening, rapidity. There were days when it seemed like Draco Malfoy's entire life revolved around waiting for opportunities to ravish her in alcoves and behind suits of armor.

Hermione wasn't going to complain, but she was privately of the opinion that he scent-marked on her sufficiently to last at least a day. However, Malfoy seemed to hold a resolute view that twelve hours was the absolute uppermost limit. He was of the opinion that five hours was about ideal. If Hermione happened to be studying he would hold off, but the moment she walked out into the hallways of Hogwarts it only a matter of time before he materialized.

He knew of an astonishing number of hiding spots that Hermione had never noticed despite all her years of sneaking around with Harry and Ron. Apparently having had a cloak of invisibility on hand had made her somewhat less creative than Malfoy was.

There were an abundance of places she had never thought to look during prefect patrol. He got her off in practically every single one of them. The halls reeked of their combined pheromones.

It looks could kill, Malfoy would have been dead a thousand times over from the utterly murderous expressions the Alphas leveled him with.

Hermione wondered if McGonagall had any idea of what she'd unleashed.