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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.


Chapter Text

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” he says, his eyes flitting across her face and down her person but then he’s turning away from her to face the front again and Hermione frowns at him. At his tone, because there is something amiss, something she is missing altogether and -

“I wouldn’t have come if I’d know you were going to be here.” He continues and she flinches. Her head jerks back without any conscious thought as though he has slapped her. She thinks it might have hurt less if he had.

She looks away from him, blinking rapidly to prevent tears from ruining her makeup as she turns to the front and clenches her jaw. “I’m sorry,” she grits out. “I didn’t realise my presence offended you so much.”

She presses her hand against her sternum and takes a deep breath because it hurts - it hurts so fucking much and this right here is why she left Britain in the first place. Because this pain is too much to bear. This rejection is - it is not fair. Not fair that it is only her that must feel like this.

“What?” He asks startled and she can see - from the corner of her eye -  that he has turned to look at her but she will not give him the satisfaction of looking him in the eye. She has already thought of every single reason and excuse about why he does not want her. She is not so much of a masochist as to endure him telling her himself.

But he does not get a chance to speak again, not to her, because the band has started to play and she can see that Narcissa is ushering the final few guests into their seats and -

“Theo!” She says, snatching a hold of Draco’s best man as he walks past her. He looks down at the hand she has wrapped around his wrist, his face twisted in a sneer until he sees her face and then, then he does something that surprises Hermione. And if it surprises her she can only imagine how Tom must be feeling because his eyes flit from her face to Tom’s and back to hers and his face changes. There's a smirk tugging at his lips and then he’s settling into the seat beside her, one arm wrapping around her shoulders in the process and sliding his fingers through hers until they’re linked.

She cannot stop looking at their hands because what the actual fuck and - she doesn’t even get the chance to jerk her hand from his grip before he is pressing his lips against the shell of her ear and breathing the words, “just go with it,” against them and suddenly every hair on her body is standing to attention and goosebumps are erupting along her skin and Hermione Granger realises in the moment that she looks up at Theodore Nott and he grins at her and squeezes her hand that he is an Alpha too, not hers no but someone who could look after her if she chose to let him - like she was considering only twenty minutes ago anyway.

She nods minutely, leans into his embrace and looks back at her Alpha. “Theo, Tom. Tom, Theo.”



This is something else she is missing, there is something connecting these two men she is sandwiched between but then everyone is standing and Draco is looking between her and Theo, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to why he is with her and not him but then the music is playing and Astoria is moving up the aisle and-


“Are you having a good time?” Harry asks and Hermione shrugs and smirks as she watches Genevieve Greengrass drag her new son in law around the dance floor as though he were a ragdoll. Harry hasn’t noticed and Hermione can’t wait for his wedding to Daphne so that she can watch the Greengrass Matriarch do the same thing to him.

“I’m fine.” She mumbles into her quickly depleting glass of champagne, shooting him a small smile - that quickly turns into a grin - when both Greengrass sisters (though technically Astoria is a Malfoy now) appear beside them.

“Congratulations,” She grins at Astoria, taking the younger girls hand in hers and beaming at her. “You look beautiful. I’m so happy for you.”

Astoria smiles back and suddenly launches herself forward, wrapping her arms around Hermione neck, who looks at Daphne from the corner of her eye. But her friend is just laughing and tugging Harry away and -

“Astoria,” she nudges gently, glancing around her quickly before she pulls the young bride aside. “What’s wrong?”


“You’re crying,” Hermione replies, crossing her arms and lifting an eyebrow at her.

Astoria, huffs, a shaky little laugh that immediately sets Hermione’s worries to rest. “I’m just so happy that you’re here for Draco.”

“Of course I’m here for him. It’s his wedding day -”

“And that you’re not angry with m-”

“Astoria,” she laughs, “Why would I be angry with you?”

She blinks up at her. “Well weren’t you-”

“No. No. No.”


“Did we have some sort of relationship? Yes. Was it anything more than one friend helping out another? No.” She drains the remainder of her drink and sets the glass down on the window ledge behind her. “Draco is a very good friend Astoria. And I was, and still am incredibly happy for the pair of you.”

“Thank you,” Astoria murmurs but Hermione is already walking away.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says, turning her head to look back at the bride over her shoulder and walking straight into another guest. “Oh God I’m so sor-”

“Not to worry Granger,” Theo smirks down at her, taking her hand in his and effortlessly pulling her into a waltz around the dancefloor. There are more than a dozen other couples surrounding them as he weaves them across the dancefloor and no one is paying any attention to them.

Probably why he lets the palm of his hand rest at the top of her bum.

Probably why she leans into his body and lets him.

That and the champagne of course.

Nothing to do with how she can see Riddle, from the corner of her eye, moving about the dance floor with some red headed chit on his arm even as he glares at her.

“Are you having a good time?” Theo asks, mumbling against the shell of her ear as he dips his head down. She looks up at him. He is very tall. And handsome. With dark hair and green eyes and -

She is struck with two realisations in quick succession.

One. He looks like Tom.

Two. Although they are both tall, dark, handsome, he is not her mate . Not her Alpha.

She hums and wraps her arms around his neck, stepping into him so that there is barely a few millimetres between them. She can feel her nipples pressing insistently against the thin satin of her dress. She wonders if Theo can feel them pressing into his chest?

“Better now I suppose,” she smirks up at him. “You?”

“It’s fine I suppose,” he replies narrowing her eyes at her as she scrapes her fingernails along the small patch of skin at the back of his neck. Granger!” He growls, warns and she looks up at him from beneath her lashes knowing that she looks coquettish and innocent but that the way she is tugging her bottom lip between her teeth is anything but.

“Yes?” She simpers up at him, tugging the hair at the nape of his neck between her fingers.

“Stop that.”

“What?” She asks as she presses herself completely into him and his breath hitches and if he couldn't feel her nipples pressing into him before he can now and -

“You’re playing with fire sweetheart. I will burn you.” He grumbles, moving both his hands to her hips, pressing his prominent erection against her stomach and nudging his nose along the column of her throat grazing her scent glands in the process and she shivers beneath him and suddenly it doesn’t matter that this is Draco’s wedding and that this is Draco’s best friend and that he is not her alpha because he is hard and heavy against her and she is oh so ready for him - she can feel the copious amount of slick between her thighs -  to take her upstairs and show her a good time.

She deserves a good time.

“Prove it then” she smirks up at him and he blinks down at her, obviously shocked by how serious she is but she is already slipping her hand into his and tugging him across the dancefloor and up the stairs towards the room Narcissa escorted her to earlier on in the day as hers never giving him a chance to change his mind.

To leave her high and well, not dry but, unsatisfied.

She steps into the room and stands at the foot of her bed - the bed she sleeps in every time she stays here but as never had anyone else in - and stares at him.

He is staring just as hard at her.

“You’re sure?” He manages to rasp out. “You’re not just in heat and need someone to take care of you?”

“I can take care of myself during my heat thank you very much,” she huffs, rolling her eyes and slipping the straps of her rose gold dress off of her shoulders and stepping out of it as the fabric pools around her feet and leaves her in nothing but the high heeled stilettos she forced herself into earlier that day and the tiny scrap of nude lace between her legs. She thumbs her nipples and groans at her own touch as her eyes flutter shut. She cannot wait to feel his skin against hers and her eyes snap open when she feels his hand stroke the curve of her breast.

“Oh sweetheart,” he mumbles as his eyes drift over her near naked body. “You are in so much trouble.”


Chapter Text

“Oh sweetheart,” he mumbles as his eyes drift over her near naked body. “You are in so much trouble.”


“What,” she groans, her head falling back as he circles her, teases her with the tips of his fingers, as he trails them across her skin and she can feel the tips of her hair tickling her lower back. “What are you going to do with me?”

“What do you want me to do with you?” He taunts. She glares at him.

“Don’t tease me.”

“You like being teased,” he murmurs, pinching one perky, pebbled nipple between his thumb and his forefinger as though to prove his point and she shudders and resists the urge to press her wrists together, press her glands together and relieve some of the pressure she can feel building inside of her - feel slipping along the inside of her thighs.


“Draco told me all about how much you like to be teased.” He’s stroking her skin now. She can feel the blunt edges of his neatly trimmed fingernails against her stomach. Can feel his breath ghosting against the back of her neck. “Told me what a good girl you were for him.”

She shudders at his words - those and the fact that he’s stepped up behind her now and is cupping her cloth covered cunt with the palm of his hand. Is pressing the heel said  hand against her clit and nudging his nose along the column of her neck and -

“He wouldn’t,” she rasps, leaning into him and biting back a whimper when he slips two fingers beneath the tiny scrap of lace between her legs and slides them through her folds.

He scrapes his teeth across her neck gland and she jolts in his arms but he’s holding her against him - tight - the thumb and forefinger of his left hand tugging at her nipple and she can’t move, can’t do anything other than whimper and writhe in his arms as he slides a third finger into her cunt and continues to stretch her.

“Good girl,” he coo’s and Oh God, she’s going to fucking murder him if he doesn’t let her come within the next few seconds. “You’re so tight Granger,” he murmurs. She can feel him crooking those three fingers inside of her, nudging that elusive spongy spot inside of her that she’s always had trouble finding by herself and - “You’re right that Malfoy didn’t tell me what a tease you were.”

She knows this. Draco is her best friend and all the times they’ve fucked - all the times she’s gone to him - have been when she’d been at her lowest and she’d begged him to make her feel pretty - to make her feel worthwhile. He had of course, every single time, and it was one of the reasons she loved him so much. Because he’d never judged her for it, never expected her to reciprocate or held it against her in any way.

“I’ve always been able to spot a slut,” he grunts and he’s fucking her with his fingers properly now, and shes so fucking wet that the noise coming between her legs is obscene and then he’s nipping at her neck and telling her to “come like a good little slut” and shes gone, shaking in his arms as her cunt convulses around his fingers and -

“God I can’t wait to fuck you,” he groans, kissing the damp skin of her neck as he scoops her into his arms and carries her towards the bed.


“Are we going to talk about that little display earlier or-” She’s lying on the bed now, looking up at him as he strips.

“What display?” Theo asks, arching an eyebrow at her even as he tears his shirt up over his head. Hermione can’t help but bite her lip at how good he looks shirtless. How that V along his hips has her clenching her thighs together in an attempt to regain at least a modicum of her self respect.

She leans up on her elbows and watches him shuck his shoes, socks and his trousers until he’s left in nothing but his boxer briefs - his cock making an impressive showing of trying to escape the tight space, the tip of him edging over the band - and she’s wondering why the hell she’s using her tongue to speak instead of using it to make him lose control.

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes at him because she is not some meek doll like omega who needs a man to swoop in and save her from a conversation - especially not a conversation with her Alpha - not that he knows that of course - but still. The principle is the same. “You know exactly what I’m talking about?”

“You have an issue with how I interrupted you and Riddle?”


“Then I don’t see what there is to talk about,” he smirks, dropping to his knees and gently prying her legs apart by the knees. “Fuck me Granger but you do look like perfection,” he murmurs, skimming his hands up and down her legs, never taking his eyes off the apex of them where she knows her underwear are completely drenched and he can probably make out the folds of her bare cunt. He nudges his nose along her right calf, inhaling her and pressing a chaste kiss to the inside of her knee and she groans even as she reaches a hand forward, wraps it in his hair and tugs his head up so that he’s looking at her face rather than her crotch.

“It was rude.”

Now he’s the one narrowing his eyes up at her and his hands still on her hips, his thumbs hooked under the flimsy waistband of lace that is doing a terrible job of protecting her modesty.

“Granger!” He growls. “If you want to talk about Riddle while I’m trying to fuck you into the mattress I won’t be happy about it but I’ll certainly go and get him for you. God knows he loves talking about himself. I’m certain he’d love nothing more than to come up here and do it with you.”

She can’t help herself, she snorts. Because she knows Tom Riddle - her alpha - would rather do absolutely anything other than come up here and do it with her.

She shakes her head and then drops back off her elbows until shes flat on the bed and staring at the ceiling. “Sorry,” she mumbles. She hears his sigh and before she can stop him he’s crawling up the bed and leaning over her and -

“No. I’m sorry,” he says and she blinks up at him because she can feel him, thick and hard and heavy and leaking pre-come against her stomach and he must have removed his boxers wen she wasn’t looking but he’s stroking a wayward curl from her face and looking at her like she’s the most precious thing in the world and her glands are pulsing and her cunt is aching and she fucking despises Tom Riddle more than anything because why is every other man in her life so much nicer and better for her than that absolute tool of an alpha who biology has deemed worthy of her.

“I just think he’s a self righteous, pretentious arsehole who doesn’t deserve the attentions of a pretty girl,” he shrugs and oh good God she is so fucked because Theo Nott is funny and handsome and right and if she was his omega she’d be begging him to mark her.

Instead she bites her lip and slips her hand between them until it’s wrapped around the length of him and he’s groaning and his eyes are black and his nostrils are flaring and he’s looking between them, watching her stroke the length of him in her dainty palm, watching her slick her thumb with his pre-come and circle the head of his cock with it.

“That’s fair,” she mutters. She can feel him growing impossibly harder in her grip and when she strokes the length of him again she can feel his knot starting to form at the base of his cock and she shudders at the thought of how that, how he’s, going to feel inside of her.

“Fuck,” he moans, bringing his hand up to her face and cupping her jaw. She licks at his thumb and then she’s sucking it into her mouth - she loves having a dick in her mouth. It’s one of her favourite things - knowing that even though she’s the one on her knees in a submissive position that she holds all of the power. He glares at her and lets his thumb fall from his mouth when she nips the pad of his thumb for the second time. “Why don’t you like him?” He pants and she smirks because she can tell it’s taking all of his control not to just thrust into her and forget all about this conversation but she simply shrugs and averts her eyes as she continues to stroke him - his cock really is so very pretty and she really can’t wait for him to fuck her with it.

Her cunt and her throat.

“Oh you know. Same really. Pretentious arsehole. Snob. Completely up himself.”

He snorts and dips his head to press his lips against hers and she can feel him smirking. “Can we stop talking about him now?” He asks and shes nodding and then he’s stroking her skin and nipping her gland with his teeth and cupping her tits and brushing his thumbs over her nipples and goosebumps have erupted all over her skin.

“Please Theo,” she whines, arching up into him and he’s nodding and tearing the lace from between her legs and lifting one of her legs onto his shoulder and taking himself in hand as he presses himself between her folds and then he’s in her and she’s gone, lost to the pleasure of feeling so full and he’s pulling her up and into his lap and her legs are wrapping around his waist and her head is pressed into the crook of his neck and she’s so fucking full, he’s so fucking thick and she can feel his knot pressing against her cunt and she nips at his gland right as he tangles a hand in her hair and pulls her head back so he can look at her.

“Oh you perfect fucking girl,” he murmurs right before he kisses her, his hands on her hips as he lifts her and works her over his cock until she is nothing but a shaking mess in his arms.