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She is obsessed with him.


She cannot stop thinking about him.

Dreaming about him.

Seeing him everywhere she goes.

He is in the library when she walks in - head down, sitting in that same seat he’s always sitting in, headphones in, ignoring the world around him. Ignoring her - and it drives her insane. That he will not look up. Will not acknowledge her existence when he is all she can think about.

She doesn't even know his name.

But she knows he is her’s. Knows with every ounce of her being that the pull she feels - that tugs her towards him every single day is because he is her Alpha and she is his Omega. She is lucky that she has not experienced a heat yet, that she has not experienced that unbearable fever that will rob her of her faculties and leave her merciless to the attentions of any Alpha who wishes to dip his dick into her wet, welcoming, eager cunt.

She is lucky.

But not that lucky apparently.

Because Harry does know him and Hermione almost vomits when her best friend, an alpha, introduces her to his boyfriend - her alpha- and this is terrible, horrific, nightmare inducing and she is going to be si-

“Hermione.” He says, hand extended, eyes glittering with amusement and her hands are sweaty and she has to wipe them subtly on the side of her jumper before she can shake hands with the boy, no man , that shes been thinking about every night as she presses her hand against her cunt and twitches her fingers against her clit and-

How can he not know who she is?

How can he not know that he is hers and she is his?

“Nice to meet you,” she chokes out.

“You too,” he smirks, throwing his arm around Harry’s shoulder and pulling her best friend into him. “Harry’s told me all about you.”

She looks away just as he begins to rub tiny circles with his thumb against Harry’s shoulder and she swallows heavily, dipping her head in acknowledgement.

“Wish I could say the same.” She whispers.


She leaves London for a year.

Everything is too hard and monotonous and Malfoy has a fantastic french villa he is all but happy to let her use whilst he stays home to take care of his sick mother while his promiscuous father pretends nothing is wrong. She loves him all the more for the fact that he does not ask her why she is running away and does not question her when he visits and finds her sobbing over her laptop and does not say a word when he takes her into his arms and kisses her and she mumbles the name “Tom” against his lips and-

She loves him.

And she wishes that that were enough for her, for him; but he deserves better and so when he brings the younger Greengrass sister to visit one afternoon she smiles and grins and laughs because she is happy for him.

Happy that he has found his mate. That he will no longer feel the burn of an impossible itch beneath his skin as he fucks his fiance because she is his.

And so she leaves.

And goes home.



“I missed you,” Harry says, wrapping her in his arms and pressing his lips against her forehead and she sighs and relaxes into him because she missed him too more than she knew and thought was possible and she is happy to see him.

He is her best friend.

“I missed you too” she murmurs into his neck as she steps back from him and slides into the booth of the three broomsticks and sips at her glass of Chardonnay. “How have you been?” She swallows. “Hows’,” She wrings her hands and looks up at him, “Tom?”

He blinks at her and shrugs as he takes a sip of his beer, knuckles rapping against the tabletop as he looks around the room. “Fine. I think.” Hermione blinks at him as his words and their meaning register. “I haven’t seen him in a few months not since we bro- ahh here she is,” he says standing from the table and then he is wrapping his arms around the older Greengrass sister, Daphne, and she is smiling, dimpling up at Harry and it is so obvious to Hermione who she is.

“It’s so nice to see you,” Daphne says and it is nice to see her - lovely, wonderful- Hermione is ecstatic.

She stands from the table and grins at the Blonde as she wraps her arms around her and smirks at Harry over her shoulder. “I bet you can’t wait to be related to Malfoy.”

Harry spits his drink out and Hermione almost chokes she laughs so hard at the look on his face.


She does not go to her usual hangouts.

She does not tempt herself.

He knew who she was - he must have - and did nothing.

Did nothing to keep her for himself and so she will not give him the opportunity to do so again.

Even though it feels like a knife is ripping through her soul everyday and it feels like her jaw will break with how forced her smiles feel and when her heat strikes forces her to lock herself in her apartment so that no one can manipulate her into fucking them - into giving herself to them - she curses and cries and fucking whines for him as her traitorous mind reminds her just who exactly could make her feel better. Make her feel whole.

From thinking about what it would feel like to be wrapped up in his arms. To feel him pressed against her. It’s worse during her heat, normally she can grit her teeth and force herself to think of someone, something else but not then.

Not when her body is screaming for her alpha to take care of her. To thrust his cock inside of her and knot her as he throbs inside of her, filling her with his come as he tweaks her nipples between his fingers and tells her what a good girl she is. As he marks her not only with his come but with his teeth - teeth that bite into the flesh of her neck and mark her as his.

It’s this thought, to her great shame, that has her shattering beneath her own hand almost every night before she falls asleep sobbing.


“Are you ok?” Draco asks. He is looking at her in the reflection of the mirror as she sits on the edge of his bed, fiddling with the hem of her dress as he struggles to fix his tie and -

“I’m fine.” She smirks up at him. “Are you?”

“Fuck off.”

She laughs and stands from the bed and approaches him, taking the tie from his hand and wrapping it around his neck before tying it for him. “You look very handsome,” she murmurs, toying with the lapels of his shirt. “Astoria is very lucky.”

He takes a shuddering breath and nods and then he is smirking at her. “I know.”

“Malfoy. Granger. Hurry up in there. The time for your illicit affair to end has come.”

Hermione laughs as Draco scowls. She presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth and sighs into his neck. “I’ll see you later. Good luck.”

“I’m a Malfoy. I don’t need luck.”

She leaves the room and rolls her eyes at Theo, Draco’s best man, as she passes him and his lecherous wink. He is handsome and a nice distraction and if he is just the right amount of smug later she might let him take her home and fuck her against her dresser as he watches her shatter around his cock in the mirror because without a doubt Theodore Nott is the kind of man who enjoys that sort of thing and would enjoy doing very few things more that breaking her beneath him.

She thinks she might let him.

She is so distracted by her thoughts that she does not pay attention as she makes her way towards her seat. And it is only when she settles into it and accidently ghosts her hands over her neighbours that she realises just who else is in attendance for Malfoy’s wedding.

“Granger right?” He says and Hermione wants to cry because this is unfair and ridiculous and how could she have been such an idiot as to think that Draco would not - Oh she is going to kill the smarmy bastard when she sees him next but only after he has wed his bride because Narcissa has worked herself into a tizzy over this wedding and she will not do anything to upset the woman who has treated her like one of her own over the years.

She swallows and tilts her head in his direction and squints at him because fuck him if he thinks he can just notice her now and that she will fall at his feet with no repercussions for how he has treated her in the past.