Draco stared at Granger and wondered whether he was really understanding the question she had posed. Her eyes were black, and her cheeks deeply flushed as she looked desperately up at him, crossing her legs tightly as she continued to speak.
"You—you can say no. Obviously it's not—" she swallowed hard, "—necessary for scent-marking. It's not what you agreed to. It would just be easier for me if I know where the lines are or I'm going to be constantly worried that I'm pushing them."
"You're asking me if I want to have sex with you?" Draco said in a dazed voice, trying to ignore the burning desire he had to ignore her talking and simply pull her remaining clothes off. He stepped back.
Granger turned a deep shade of scarlet and dropped her eyes.
"Yes..." she said in a small voice.
"I would think that was obvious," he said, baffled.
Granger abruptly went from red to white.
"Right," she said quietly. Then she proceeded to pull her shirt closed and looked away from him. "Good to know. We—we should probably—write down what is and isn't acceptable. Have it all worked out ahead of time. If you don't mind. That would be helpful for me. I think I'll go now—since you have classes."
Draco blinked slowly. It was difficult to form many coherent thoughts just then, but he was fairly certain that a massive misunderstanding of some variety had somehow occurred.
"Wait," he growled, and then felt his cheeks flush. His voice had a mysterious habit of dropping into a rumble as soon as he caught so much as a whiff of Hermione. He had to make a conscious effort to try to keep his tone in a normal range so that he didn't constantly sound like he was snarling at her like a predator.
Granger looked back up at him sharply, and he noticed her shiver.
"Wait," he said again in a more normal tone. "By obvious, I meant yes. Did you—think I was saying no?"
Granger stared at him doubtfully.
"Yes?" she said, her voice hopeful and her eyes enormous as she studied him. It caused a painful tugging sensation to occur in his chest.
"Yes," he forced out. "I already said if I didn't like something I'd just tell you."
"I know," she said in a low squeak, and then huddled down, hunching her shoulders around her neck. "I just—I don't want you to agree to something and then change your mind. If you don't want to, I'd just rather know right off."
Draco stared at Granger in bewilderment as she set her jaw, slipped off the desk, and started straightening her clothing and rapidly repairing her torn shirt.
"In fact," she said quickly in a high, nervous voice, "we should probably give it some time. So you can think about it."
"What?" Draco said, incredulous.
"Yes," Granger was nodding to herself as she smoothed her hair and avoided looking at him, "time... would probably be a good idea—maybe a day or two. You can—can—can owl me."
Draco was speechless as she continued.
"Yes. Owl me. And then we can discuss terms—maybe somewhere better ventilated like—the library. Just, let me know; yes or no. You can say no. If you do, I'll—I'll just—that's fine. I won't keep pushing for it or anything."
Before Draco could formulate a response Granger had bolted across the classroom and disappeared through the door leaving him in a state of utter confusion and miserable arousal.
He rested a hand on a desk and leaned heavily on it as he tried to sort out how exactly the situation had gone from snogging Granger to having Granger ask him to Owl her in a day or two if he wanted them to have sex.
He didn't think he understood Omegas. That, or Granger was just confusing as hell. Either way he was painfully hard, and standing in a classroom thick with the scent of her arousal. He could taste it in the air, and it made him groan with frustration. He kicked a chair across the room.
Why on earth had she expected he'd say no to sex?
There was a part of him that wanted to go hunt her down, drag her into the nearest alcove, and ravish her in order to demonstrate just how willing he was.
But apparently sex was not an option that day. Granger had decided they required a period of—reflection. As though he hadn't already spent the last month reflecting on how he'd kill to shag her again.
Bloody fucking hell. He buried his face in his hands and groaned again.
Finally, after giving himself a few more minutes to try to clear his head, he picked up his satchel, and headed stiffly toward to Slytherin common room. He took an extended and ice-cold shower while he reviewed his entire conversation with Granger carefully.
The whole thing was just surreal from the moment she closed the door up to the moment she bolted.
He'd felt extremely on edge being alone with her again. It would never have occurred to him that she was trying to get him alone in order to ask him to scent-mark on her.
When she'd shut the door and then faced him, she'd looked visibly uneasy; which had been demoralizing but unsurprising.
She almost always looked uncomfortable around him, like she was bracing herself for something. It was painful to even look at her. A constant repeat of watching the moment she'd emerged from her heat; her expression had abruptly shifted from happy and open and trusting, to stunned and horrified and betrayed.
He'd braced himself for that eventuality but it had still fractured something in him.
They'd just had sex the last time, he'd still been knotted inside of her and she'd looked—blissful, relaxed, and happy, curled up in his arms. Then, suddenly, her eyes cleared and she'd turned nearly grey with horror.
She just froze and stared at him speechless for a full minute. Then the first thing she said was ask why he'd care if she were hurt.
Draco hadn't known what to say. The question had caught him so off-guard he couldn't even find any words.
It was like being gutted.
He'd realized then that she still saw him as exactly the same person who'd stood by and let her be tortured in his house; someone who would turn and look away when she was screaming and crying, and not do anything.
That was the kind of person he was to her.
She hadn't testified for him because she thought he would or could be anything different. She'd done it for Potter, without expecting Draco to have the decency to even appreciate it. Without ever expecting him to care if she were hurt. Without ever expecting him to extend the courtesy of protection to her.
Then she looked away before he could find a way to answer. They couldn't physically separate from each other so she'd just buried her face in the crook of her arm, and hadn't even been willing to look at him for the rest of their conversation. When he'd apologized, again and again, she hadn't acknowledged it. As though she were willing his existence away. She buried her face, and eventually he realized she'd fallen asleep.
He lay under her writhing internally. As soon as he could separate himself from her he'd fled. It been a violation of instinct to leave. It hurt, every step of the way, but he didn't think he was in a place mentally or emotionally to have the conversation again if he stayed and waited for her to wake up.
He wasn't sure if his devastation were a biological reaction, or a personal one. It was difficult to separate the two. Either way, the rejection just burned.
He'd slunk back into the Slytherin dorms and showered and tried to process everything as his brain and hormones settled back into a semblance of normalcy.
Of course. Of course. How else would Granger possibly see him? He'd identified her to his aunt, and then watched as she was tortured. He'd followed Crabbe and Goyle to the Room of Requirement, and tried to capture Potter. And then, after they'd save his life, he'd gone and run headlong into a Death Eater and reiterated his commitment to the Death Eater cause until Potter and Weasley and Granger showed up and saved him again.
He was spineless, and self-preserving, and every other damn character flaw that Granger and the Trio weren't. What possible reason had he ever given her to expect decency from him?
Now, if he tried to prove her wrong, she'd probably just assume it was because she was an Omega. If he'd had any hope of showing her he'd changed, it was permanently lost now. She'd just assume that any decency he demonstrated was motivated by a biological imperative.
There was a vindictive irony in the fact that he'd somehow found her and fucked her through her heat. That of all the woman in the world to present as an Omega that it would be her.
Taste a forbidden fruit, and then be damned to crave it forever.
He resolved to find her afterward, apologize again, and then stay as far away as he could. He went to Professor Vector and requested that he and Granger not be paired.
Before he had a chance to apologize, Slughorn had found him and informed Draco that he was required in the Headmistress' office. Draco had felt the blood chill in his veins; he'd been so preoccupied with thinking of Granger he hadn't even stopped to think about the fact he might risk expulsion.
McGonagall had been ice-cold when he was escorted into her office and spent several minutes staring at him.
Then she finally spoke, "You're at this school conditionally, Mr Malfoy."
"I know."
"Miss Granger has suffered a great deal in the last several years, and has now found herself thrust into a personal dilemma with dynamics beyond her control. I am speaking to you on her behalf because she feared a personal interaction could be traumatic."
Draco felt himself pale and gripped the arms of his chair as McGonagall continued, "Whatever may have happened, she bears no responsibility for any of it. She is profoundly regretful."
"I know," he said, looking away and feeling as though his chest were being crushed beneath a boulder.
"I don't know what your intentions or motivations in this are, but if I find that you use her nature or her behavior during that time against her in any way I will not be lenient. Your expulsion will be immediate."
"I understand."
"I will be saying this to the other Alphas at this school later but I will say it to you now. I am aware that there are circles that regard Omegas as being little more than a commodity. I hope that is not a view held by any Alphas in this school. Miss Granger is not a plaything. She is no one's property. If she chooses to accept the attention of anyone it is at her discretion and it is no one's business but her own. Do not let your biology trick you into thinking that this past week gives you any rights to her. If she finds herself harassed by unwanted attention and considers withdrawing, I think it goes without saying which student's attendance I would give preference to."
"Of course, Headmistress," Draco said quietly. "I owe Granger for my probationary release; it was never my intention to do anything that would upset her."
McGonagall studied him for a minute in silence.
"I have to ask; how was it that you managed to find her? The faculty and I went to considerable lengths to keep her presentation concealed. How is it that you detected it?"
Draco looked up at the Headmistress. "I didn't realise she was an Omega until I was inside the room. I heard her crying and I thought—I thought someone was hurting her. After what she did for me, I couldn't ignore it."
McGonagall's expression was overtly skeptical. "Really? You're claiming to know what Miss Granger sounds like when she cries?"
Draco's eyes dropped down and he stared at the desk in front of him. "She was tortured in my house, Headmistress. I don't expect I'll ever forget what it sounds like."
There was a silence.
"So you broke in because you thought she was being harmed."
Draco nodded listlessly.
"I see. Well, Mr Malfoy, you may go. I believe lunch is being served. Thank your time."
Draco got up and left the office mechanically.
Message received.
Stay away from Granger. Don't look at her. Don't approach her. Don't talk to her.
She does not want your apologies.
He could do that.
He barely let himself glance at her when he arrived in the Great Hall for lunch, even though she was about as easy to ignore as a Veela. She dragged in Alphas like a hunting lure. The whole world became defined and colored by his proximity to her—or lack thereof—unless he poured his magic into making an occlumency wall that muted the distraction somewhat.
She walked through the halls and smelled like him, and his heart whispered, "Mine."
The closer she was, the more aggressively his instincts urged him toward her.
Ignoring Granger was almost endurable, except Vector—the bitch—had threatened to out Granger's designation if they didn't do the arithmancy project together. So Granger had popped up in the classroom where he liked to hide, and after pointedly reiterating that she would never ever have had sex with him in her right mind and would have infinitely preferred to spend seven days weeping in agony rather than touched by him, asked if they could just pretend to do the assignment together.
It didn't work. The arithmancy project was a collaborative nightmare. He'd sit next to Granger in the library while she grew more and more uncomfortable, and he could smell her unwilling arousal. She would stare down at her notes, assiduously trying not to look at him and talked about numerical predictions at the rate of approximately seven thousand words per minute; steadily growing more and more upset until it felt devastating.
He had an instinctive desire to react to her, to calm her, to try to please her. It was encompassing.
Alphas were wired to take care of Omegas. It was written into them at a fundamental level, right alongside the desire to claim them. The knowledge that he couldn't please her—that he was a source of her distress—was pure misery.
He'd try to get the study sessions over as quickly as possible and then vanish into the abandoned parts of Hogwarts to curse his rotten luck of being an Alpha.
Every time he saw another Alpha near Granger the blood would roar in his ears, and his heart would start snarling "Mine. Mine. Mine," while he struggled against the urge to storm over and beat the person to death.
Alpha biology was simply the worst.
It wasn't as though he actually liked her. Pre-Omega presentation at most he'd had a passing fancy for her during the summer, mostly out of gratitude.
She was, as he'd told Theo, fine.
Privately he thought she was maybe slightly more than fine. Not much more though.
Pretty. Maybe a bit more than pretty. Smart to the point of brilliance, he wouldn't deny. Not the most charming personality he'd ever encountered, but loyal enough to put the rest of the world to shame. But he hadn't liked her.
When he'd completely lost control because he thought he heard her being hurt it was just because—because—
Fine. He'd fancied her a bit.
Not seriously, though. It wasn't as though he'd had any intention or delusions about pursuing her. He could appreciate her qualities without being actually interested.
It wasn't his fault that most girls he knew were less intriguingly academic.
Post-presentation, post-heat, none of that mattered.
He craved her like a drug. She could have the mind, personality, and appearance of a beige wall and he'd still be drawn to her. And she knew it.
He could see the wounded, distrusting expression in her eyes every time an Alpha who had never spared her the time of day during the previous six years, suddenly wanted to participate in a study group with her.
Draco had even less ground to stand on than they did.
There was no way she'd ever believe he was interested in her for any reason other than her biology.
Then Goldstein happened.
Draco hadn't exactly been stalking Granger that night. He'd just noticed that she was in the library, and happened to decide to study in a nearby classroom.
As miserable as being near her was, not being near her was worse. Stressful. She'd taken to hiding in the Gryffindor Tower whenever she was out of classes, so when he noticed that she was nearby he'd just lingered. Then he'd only meant to make sure she made it back to the tower safely, but she'd gone bolting through the castle when Filch showed up and Draco had barely managed to avoid discovery.
When he managed to figure out where she was, he had been approaching tentatively when he was bowled over by a bomb of terrified hormones. He shot down the halls until he found her crying and pinned to the wall while Goldstein mauled her.
He didn't think he had ever been so angry in his life. The whole world had turned blood red and he would probably have just murdered Goldstein, but Granger was sitting on the ground quietly crying and she was of infinitely greater importance. Once Goldstein was neutralized as a threat, Draco satisfied himself by hexing the bastard with the most debilitating non-lethal hex he could think of.
He hadn't meant to snog Granger.
He'd had an instinctive sense that he had to remove her from their current location. So he'd taken her into a classroom to try to figure out what Goldstein had done to her. He hadn't expected her to wrap her arms and legs around him, and start licking and kissing him.
Then there hadn't been much rational thought for a while. She was just so perfect. It was almost impossible to believe it could just by typical Alpha-Omega biology because he touched her and she felt made for him. Every time her lips touched his felt like redemption. Until she started whimpering, "Alpha. Alpha, please."
Then it struck him with freezing, shriveling, gutting horror; she wasn't kissing him, she was kissing an Alpha. She'd kiss any Alpha. She wasn't even Granger. She was just an Omega because fucking Goldstein had smothered Granger.
He'd fallen for it. Even in the midst of doubting his attraction could just be a biological imperative, he'd failed to distinguish between the two.
He had Granger seated on his lap, staring at him longingly, and trying to convince him to shag her, and because he was apparently delusional, he'd nearly let himself believe she meant it.
When he finally managed to drag her out of the subspace he'd expected her to bolt. It was like having her come out of her heat; she went from trusting, relaxed, and curled up in his arms, to suddenly traumatized all over again.
But she hadn't immediately jumped up and fled. Instead she just sat in his lap, glancing around uncertainly and looking heart-wrenchingly vulnerable. Without even thinking, he'd started hugging her; which was odd, because he was not—as a general rule—the hugging type. However, rather than shove him away, she'd clung to him, and Draco had discovered that he actually was the hugging type. If it was for her.
He couldn't bring himself to let go once he had his arms around her. It was Granger; real, coherent Granger, and she had her face buried in his shoulder, and she was letting him comfort her.
Then she'd looked up at him, and she hadn't been horrified or stunned. She'd stared at him clear-eyed, and he wasn't even sure if she said anything after that because meeting her eyes was like touching her magic with his own; a surge of desire that rose up through his whole body.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
He leaned forward, and he almost thought she leaned toward him too. He was less than a second from kissing her when the professors stormed into the classroom.
Then Granger covered for him. Rather than say that he had indeed snogged and nearly shagged her when she was barely lucid, she'd acted like it had all been her fault. Maybe she actually thought it had been; she'd looked overtly miserable, and Draco nearly broke free of Dawlish's hold in an attempt to go try to comfort her.
He'd been dragged away. As Dawlish prodded him toward the Headmistress' office, it occurred to Draco that he might very well end up expelled, and he started worrying about what his mother would do if he were sent to Azkaban. Then the thought vanished as he was suddenly struck with a certainty that Granger was in danger. Draco wasn't sure where the feeling came from, but he was positive. Before he even paused to think he suddenly spun, picked up Dawlish, flung him into a wall, and bolted back in the direction he'd come from.
He'd found Granger kicking and struggling as she was being mauled by multiple Alphas, while the professors shouted and shot hexes. He snapped. He grabbed her, and felt an explosion of accidental magic burst out of him as he dragged her away. Then he shoved her behind himself, and snarled "She is mine," at everyone there.
When Draco's head cleared enough to realize what he'd done, he'd rather wished Dawlish would have come around the corner and immediately stunned him.
He half expected Granger to stun him out of indignation.
Fucking Alpha biology. He snogged her for a few minutes that evening, and then proceeded to pronounce ownership over her. She was probably going to murder him, or if she didn't then possibly McGonagall or Potter would.
Granger was noticeably prickly as she stalked away from him but that still didn't stop him from trailing along after her like a puppy.
As the evening wore on and it became obvious that Granger was, for some inexplicable reason, covering up his culpability in their snog session, his keen sense of self-preservation began tingling with the fear that Granger might have her own plans for him.
Finding Granger fanciable and generally virtuous did not prevent Draco from also observing her more Slytherin traits.
The witch was fucking terrifying.
Draco had kept track of the Golden Trio quite carefully over the years, and regarded himself privy to some of their better kept secrets. For an example, when Rita Skeeter went silent following the Tri-Wizard tournament he'd tracked her down and discovered that Skeeter was being blackmailed by Granger. Granger had trapped Skeeter in beetle form, and kept her in a jar for a week before releasing her under threat of imprisonment in Azkaban if the nosy reporter so much as whispered about Potter, or Hagrid, or Granger herself. He was fairly certain Granger's blackmail was the entire reason for Potter's Quibbler interview.
Then in Fifth year, in addition to permanently disfiguring Marietta Edgecombe's face, Granger lured Umbridge into the Forbidden Forest and gotten the High Inquisitor captured by a herd of Centaurs. Draco was fairly certain Granger had done it well aware that Umbridge was absolutely terrified of centaurs.
Following Dumbledore's death, Granger had gone home and obliviated her entire existence from the minds of her own parents before packing them off to Australia. The healers were still trying to figure out how to reverse it. Draco had heard the Weasleys discussing the matter in what they had presumably considered low-tones after Draco's sentencing.
And, possibly most terrifying of all, after being tortured by Bellatrix, Granger had somehow ended up in possession of his Aunt's wand. She not only successfully used it right through the final battle; Granger was still using the damn thing due to the ongoing wand shortage.
Every time Draco saw Granger pull it out during classes his blood ran cold.
So when Granger tracked him down after Potions when he'd been arguing with Daphne Greengrass about his 'library,' and asked to speak with him "privately," Draco began preparing himself mentally for his impending demise.
When Granger closed, locked, and charmed the door, he was certain his doom was sealed. If not a doom she'd premeditated, then it would occur because being in an enclosed space with her had a very good chance of resulting in him eventually trying to snog her.
He braced himself, and she started off by nervously thanking him. Which was unexpected, to say the least.
Draco kept trying to force himself to be indifferent while he waited for the massive "but" where she reminded him that she not his property, and if he ever claimed possession of her or snogged her again, she'd murder him with his aunt's wand, turn his organs into kibble, and feed them to her kneazle.
If she was going to eviscerate him, he'd rather she just get to it.
Instead the conversation took an unexpected turn, and she started blushing and asking about whether he "personally" would want to snog her. And then she was proposing that he scent-mark on her, saying that she trusted him.
Draco had started wondering if he had just lost his mind and was hallucinating until she started explaining how she had no legal protection as an Omega.
Then it struck him like a bucket of ice water.
He was Granger's new Rita Skeeter.
She'd found herself in an impossible situation, and she'd devised a solution using the person who'd hurt her most. She couldn't devise any personal protection for herself, but she could use Draco as a shield against other Alphas; confident in the knowledge that if he overstepped himself she could bring Azkaban down on him like an anvil. She was betting on his biology and sense of self-preservation that he could give her what she wanted without crossing the line.
Of course she 'trusted' him.
It took him several minutes to come to terms with it; long enough that Granger had apparently concluded that his answer was no. And it nearly was.
Except...he wanted her. Damned if he knew whether it were purely biological or not.
However, he still half-regretted agreeing the moment the words left his mouth. It was deeply demoralizing to be 'temporarily' chosen by an Omega just because she regarded his self-interest to be a bankable quality.
Granger been quick to clarify, in case he had any illusions, that it was not a relationship. Not even a friendship. When he'd said "casual. A bit of fun," she still looked unenthused.
But at that point he had hardly cared. The room they were in smelled like her; her pheromones were filling the small space, and every time he opened his mouth he could practically taste her arousal in the air. From the moment she'd closed the door, she'd been growing wetter and wetter. She stood across from him and tried to be subtle, but she kept undressing him with her eyes.
She might not like him personally, but she clearly had no objections to him physically.
If it meant he got to snog her, and lick her, and scent-mark her, he could get over his demoralization and let her use him to her heart's content.
He didn't even remember dropping his satchel and crossing the room. He'd just had her in his arms, pinned against the wall, as he started kissing down her neck.
She was heaven incarnate. He could probably just spend his entire life with her wrapped in his arms and his face buried against her shoulder. The biology of Alphas and Omegas was irresistibly potent. Being near her set his entire being on fire. Touching her was like falling into the sun. He hadn't known it was possible to feel anything with such intensity.
Granger seemed to be all over the place about physically interacting with him; simultaneously nervous and eager in a way that probably should have been annoying, but somehow just felt endearing and incredibly enticing.
Snogging her was so fantastic it was almost unreal.
When she'd unexpectedly brought their snog session to a screeching halt and then bolted, he concluded that he really didn't know enough about Omegas. Granger felt quite nearly incomprehensible.
Owl her?
Draco slammed his fist into the wall of the shower, and cursed with frustration.
He had lost nearly all sensation in his toes by the time his erection finally seemed to get the memo that there were be no sex with Granger that day.
He stepped out the shower, shivering, and toweled off. Erection dealt with, the next order of business was going to the owlry to send Granger a note that yes he would be happy to shag her at any time, in any manner, and with any frequency she so pleased.
He also needed to get his hands on every book on Omegas that existed. He was fairly sure that Theo had gone and ordered every single text, treatise, and scientific journal on the subject immediately after Granger first walked into to the Great Hall post-presentation.
After Draco dressed, he went over to his friend's trunk. It only took a few minutes to remove all the security charms and help himself to the neat stack stashed inside.
As Draco shoved them all in his satchel, he wondered if there were any other, more regulated texts on the subject in Malfoy Manor's library. It was a long-held family tradition to collect obscure scholarly works. Maybe he'd owl his mother and ask her to look.
He headed out to owl Granger.