Chapter 7
POV Hermione
Hermione walked to the couch, slightly stumbling as she set down the platter of brownies on the coffee table. She took a long drag of a butterbeer while plopping down on the cushions. Harry was laying on the ground, Crookshanks perched on his chest as Harry petted the cat, and Ginny walked in behind her, handing Harry a drink before sitting on the other end of the couch. Fred was sitting in a wingback chair a glass of firewhiskey in hand, already starting on the goodies by the time she sat down.
“Hey! Don’t hog them! Remember, I’m the one who made them in the first place” she griped at him.
Fred stretched his legs out, leaning back on the chair. He rolled his eyes and replied, “Oh come on, you are the one who demanded that we come over, remember?” He gave her a crooked smile and she let out a sigh, laying on the couch, her head propped up with one arm. She couldn’t even feign annoyance when it came to her best friends.
Ginny reached over to put Hermione's feet in her lap, and from her pocket she pulled out a small bottle of nail polish, ruby red. She leaned over in concentrating, working on Hermione’s toenails. Hermione looked around the room at all of them and asked nervously, “So what did everyone do after Ginny got me out of there?” referring to the previous night. She wasn’t ashamed of her new status as a late bloomer, but Hermione definitely didn’t want everyone to find out like that. At least Ron hadn’t known about her shag with Malfoy or he would have likely announced that, too.
Fred stuffed a large bite of brownie in his mouth and said, “Well after you left Ron went on a bit of a rampage. Mostly stomping around and ranting about needing to be there for you. Something about ‘his right as an alpha.’”
Harry gave her a troubled look, absentmindedly rubbing his scar. “Arthur and I had to hold him back or he would have followed you, I reckon. I finally dragged him upstairs to his old room. He wouldn’t stop going on and on about you and him. I think he regrets how it ended. I finally had to push him up against the wall and yell that you were never taking him back. After that he pushed me and stormed out front.”
“Merlin, Harry, are you alright?” Hermione pushed, worry etched across her face. Harry gave her a comforting smile. “No worse for the wear, Mione… really,” he added when her expression didn’t change.
Hermione glanced over at the side table, where a bouquet of yellow tulips stood. Harry had sent them first thing in the morning, saying he was sorry for Ron’s outburst. “What about your parents?” She pressed Fred, her voice small. Molly and Arthur were the closest thing she had to parents in the Magical world, and couldn’t stand the idea of losing them.
“Mum was trying to calm everyone down, trying to distract us by bringing up dad’s new obsession with something called an Ipod. You know how she is. She hates the bickering. After the war she just wants everyone to be nice and realize what we have.” he said in a slightly annoyed tone. “Dad was mad at Ron. Rightfully so. I overheard them arguing in a room upstairs and dad was really laying into him. All this talk about how a gentleman behaves and how it should have been Ron to leave the house, not you.”
Hermione’s eyebrows shot up, a fresh wave of anxiety washing over her. She was touched that Molly and Arthur would go to such lengths for her, but she hated the idea that her presence would cause a rift in Ron’s relationship with his family. No matter how much of a wanker he turned out to be.
Fred caught the emotions playing on Hermione’s face and reached out to rest a hand on her knee. “Really Hermione, you’ve nothing to worry about.”
Hermione ran her hand through her hair, trying without success to detangle some knots. “I didn’t think about Ron smelling the pheromones. Honestly I didn’t think he would even show up.” Ron had gone a bit off the deep end after Serena left him. For an omega to leave an alpha wasn’t unheard of, but definitely not common. She was driven off by his drinking, and took their daughter with her. He was already heading toward the path of drowning his emotions in various vices even before the war, before he presented and met her. The stress finally got to him, and he dealt with it through drinking and abusing potions.
Fred paused, looking thoughtfully into the fire. “I don’t think this is an alpha thing. Charlie never acts like that.”
“Okay enough about my brother,” Ginny chirped. She turned slightly to face Hermione and asked eagerly “So how do you feel after presenting? Has it set in yet?”.
Hermione took another drink, trying to put off the question. “It’s fine I guess, I still don't know why it happened so late”.
“And… haveyoutalkedtomalfoysince?” Ginny spat out all at once.
Hermione slammed one of hands against the couch in annoyance. She pointed at Harry and said “Ginny!” her eyes huge.
“Oh yea, well I kinda already told him… as soon as I got home” she muttered, averting her eyes.
Hermione twisted her head to face Harry, her hair spinning around. In response Harry just put his hands up.
“Uuuggghh” she let out, dropping her head back on the couch. “No I haven’t” she lied. These were her closest friends but she couldn’t tell them about work. Yes, that was the only reason.
“If it makes you feel any better, he didn’t really care,” Ginny mumbled, pouting and averting her eyes. When she looked back at Hermione, she was met with a warm smile and gentle eyes, as if Hermione was silently forgiving her for the slip up.
Harry let out a sigh next to Ginny and said, “Honestly Mione it's not a big deal. I don't want to live in the past. We were all kids at war. He didn’t have much of a choice in it either.” He continued to pet Crookshanks, as the cat butted his head in thanks.
Hermione glanced over at Fred, his hands crossed in front of him. “I’m holding out judgment on him,” he said stubbornly, puffing out his chest. Harry chuckled and leaned over to nudge the other man. “Don’t worry, Freddy, if Malfoy pulls any suspect moves, I’ll just use my authority as an auror and the Chosen One to send his arse back to Azkaban.” Hermione rolled her eyes at that. “And besides,” Harry continued, “The Golden Girl can handle herself just fine.”
At that, Hermione jumped toward the two men and put Harry in a playful headlock. “Damn right I can handle myself. And come off it with the Golden Girl nickname.” Ginny joined in the pile, and Fred soon followed. The four were sprawled on the floor, wrestling and giggling like they were back in the Gryffindor common room at Hogwarts, the weight of the past, pheromones, and new dynamics with old enemies forgotten.
__________________________________________________________________________
POV Draco
He stood with his back pressed against the oak bar, and finished off his third beer of the night. In front of him was a sea of bodies, dancing to the music, lost in the moment. Draco was at ‘Destination Unknown’, a popular muggle bar in London. He scanned the room, looking for something, but he didn’t know what.
Draco wasn’t nearly drunk enough. He couldn’t get Granger’s words out of his head. They… someone was turning wizards into werewolves. Sure, he was in the illegal drug business and used to be a Death Eater, but he wasn’t doing that. He had lived with Greyback in the Manor for over a year during his 7th year at Hogwarts. He never felt safe for himself when he was around. Draco would always put himself between his mother and Greyback when the werewolf was in the manor.
He remembered the putrid smell of Greyback’s werewolf friends as they roamed the halls during the last battle. Seeing the vicious looks in their eyes, the gashes left in the Brown girl and other innocent victims, who were at the wrong place at the wrong time. He knew that not all werewolves were as ruthless as Greyback but he still couldn’t help but feel sick when he heard a howl.
Draco tried to focus on the music, he just wanted to enjoy the night in peace, but he couldn’t stop seeing Granger’s concerned face dance in his vision. He turned and ordered a tequila shot. He had developed a taste for Muggle liquor during his time in Boston. Quickly downing his drink, he headed toward the center of the dancefloor. Draco closed his eyes and started to dance to the music, but this time it wasn’t working. This was one of the only ways he knew how to get rid of his troubles, to make the world melt away. But when he closed his eyes all he could see was Granger’s rage.
Before he knew it he felt hands running up and down his chest. Draco opened his eyes to see a petite woman with dark hair cut into a pixie cut. She looked up at him through her lashes, giving him an alluring smile. She was usually his type but he couldn’t get the image of wild, curly hair out of his mind. He considered what Theo and Blaise had said to him the other night, after they stopped wrestling and a few records had been knocked off a shelf. ‘It’s just been a while since you shagged someone decent,’ Blaise had said. ‘You just need to find a hot little crumpet of an omega to get your mind off the witch and her pheromones,’ Theo had chimed in. Maybe the boys were right, maybe this hen would do the trick, omega or not. He pulled her close, holding her on her hips. She reached up on tiptoes to cup his face, as if to kiss. Whispering into his ear, she asked “Do you have any? I’m looking for a party.” Draco returned the smile, slightly disappointed that they had different ideas for the evening in mind, and continued to dance with her, grinding with the music. As he was about to slide her a couple of pills and let her go on her merry high way, something caught his eye.
At first Draco wasn’t sure what he was looking at. There was some kind of scuffle. It appeared to be an ordinary fight between some drunk guys in the back of the club, but as he focused in he heard it. One of the club goers was having some kind of a fit. He was bent over at an odd angle, as if in pain, grabbing fitsfulls of his hair. Suddenly, he let out a horrible sound. It started as a whimper but became a howl. Draco shivered as the sound pierced his ears. People around started to scream, pushing past them to get to the door. Suddenly, a beast was in the place of the man and it was barreling toward the two of them. Draco pushed himself in front of the woman, and under his breath muttered “stupify”. The beast was blasted backwards, hitting the stone wall. He grasped the woman’s hand and pulled her toward the exit.
They ran four blocks before he pulled her into an alley, breathing wildly. She was crying hysterically. “What the fuck was that?!” she screamed at him, as if it was his fault. “It looked like a mangy dog…or a w.. wolf” she added, her eyes wide with panic. When the woman started hyperventilating, Draco gently pushed her against the brick wall behind her.
“Listen to me,” he whispered. “You need to calm down. Now breathe with me.” She locked eyes with him and as he took a deep breath, she followed suit.
After a few minutes she had stopped panicking. He quickly looked on the street, making sure no one was there. He turned back to the woman and under his breath he said “Obliviate.” She instantly became calm, and closed her eyes, resting her head against the wall, all tension gone from her body.
By the time she opened her eyes, Draco was gone.
_________________________________________________________________
POV Hermione
Hermione was lying again on the cold marble floor, sticky with her blood. All she could see was the black chandelier above her, swaying slightly. The taunting was starting again.
Oh Mudblood, don’t want to play anymore?
That's not fair…I’m not done yet.
All at once she felt a searing pain all over. Like her blood was boiling and her bones were shattering. Hermione curled her neck back in a painful angle, screaming until her throat was raw.
Oh don’t pass out already, we just started.
Finally the pain stopped, and she took a gasp of air. She tried to crawl away, but she felt a boney hand grab a fist full of hair, stopping her.
Don’t you know your name? Well I’ll make sure you will.
And that’s when it started. Hermione felt the weight of Bellitrix’s body on her torso, holding her down. She felt the knife dig into the skin on her arm. Hermione started to scream again, and in the corner of the ballroom she could see a figure. A blonde figure, who looked like they were trying to fade into the wall behind them.
She woke up, hair plastered to her forehead, her silk pajamas sticking to her with sweat, breathing hard. Trembling, she sat on the edge of the bed, resting her head in her hands. Hermione took a deep breath trying to steady herself, and stood up. Making her way downstairs with Crookshanks following closely behind, she walked into the kitchen and turned on the electric kettle.
Hermione rubbed her left forearm, trying to sooth it. The scar had healed over, leaving faint white lines behind. Every so often, the scar ached, deep down to the bone. She had mentioned it to Ron a few times while they were still together, but he never took her very seriously. He said they needed to get past the war by not talking about it, but she really knew he always felt guilty for that night. Hermione knew Ron couldn’t have done anything. But still, it would have been nice for someone to listen to her about it.
Reaching up in the cupboard for her favorite tea, Hermione jumped as she heard frantic knocking at the front door.
“Bloody hell, who is that?” she muttered under her breath, rushing to the entryway.
As soon as she opened the door a disheveled Malfoy barged in. He looked like he had just ran here. Hermione was suddenly very aware she was wearing her flimsy silk pajamas. Malfoy didn’t seem to notice though. As soon as he saw her he grabbed her by the shoulders, shaking her.
“Granger, Granger I s..saw it! I was just in the club, a a and someone… they turned!” he said with wild eyes full of terror. His hair was tousled, flopped forward partly covering his eyes. He was trembling, unable to stand still.
Hermione was tired and confused by the sudden intrusion, and it took her a moment to piece together what he was talking about. He must have seen someone transform to a werewolf, she thought, a thousand other questions coming to her mind. She knew Malfoy was in no state to answer any of her questions. She needed him to calm down and focus.
“Oi, Malfoy,” she chirped, removing his hands from her shoulders and gripping his arms. “You need to calm down, sit down and take some deep breaths.”
Malfoy looked at her like her curls had turned into Medusa’s snakes and he shook her hands off of him. The panic returned to his eyes and he started pacing, frantically running his fingers through his hair. A nervous tick, maybe? Hermione never noticed it at Hogwarts, but she was preoccupied with potions and magical creatures studies while Malfoy busied himself being an absolute swot. Seeing him here now, in such a vulnerable state, knowing he had sought her out, Hermione felt a twinge of pride and also… something warm simmering in the pit of her stomach.
The smell of something burning brought Hermione back to the present situation in the foray of her home. She glanced toward the kitchen and sniffed, but all she could smell was the remnants of brownies from earlier in the evening. She turned back to Malfoy, now curled on the floor and holding his head securely between his knees, struggling to breathe. The air emanating from his figure carried the aroma of burning pine, like a fire on the stove that wouldn’t go out until it was smothered, covered in a blanket to kill the out of control flames. He was releasing his pheromones in waves, the feeling of fear accompanying every fresh wave and suffocating Hermione. She covered her face to avoid being sent into a state of terror herself. They couldn't both be blubbering messes.
She thought back to their night together, when she was so affected by Malfoy’s pheromones. She wondered if alphas were as affected by omega pheromones, though she hadn’t had the opportunity to test it out since she presented not so long ago. Well, this was as good a time as any.
Hermione steadied herself, thinking of warm tea on a rainy London day, and tried to release some pheromones. There was a faint smell of parchment and dewy grass that filled the air, but not near enough to curtail the veil of pheromones coming from Malfoy. She had to get closer.
Hermione knelt in front of the man curled up on the floor and tried to focus him, putting both hands on his cheeks and lifting his face to hers. “Hey, hey Malfoy… focus. Look at me. Look at my eyes” she purred at him, pleading.
His grey eyes snapped to hers, and she could feel his heart rate slow, matching her own. “Take a deep breath,” she mouthed, exaggerating her own breathing in demonstration. He copied her movements, and moments later, his eyes took on a slightly glazed look, the pheromones taking effect.
She gently helped him up and led him to a seat at her kitchen bar. By that time the kettle was screaming at her, and she scrambled to turn it off and poured two cups. Hermione turned, holding the mugs in hand, to see Malfoy gripping the sides of the bar, eyes strained once again. She hurried to open a window to air out the pheromones still lingering in the air and sat down next to him, taking one of his hands in hers.
“Malfoy, listen to me. Take a deep breath.” she whispered, trying again to have her pheromones reach him.
He wouldn’t meet her eyes, and instead focused in front of him, looking intently at the counter top. But then he gripped her hands tightly and his chest began to slow.
“I need to ask you some questions”, she started. He continued to avoid eye contact but gave her a quick nod. “Where were you? What exactly did you see? Was it a werewolf?” she rapidly questioned.
“I was at Destination Unknown. I go there all the time”, he murmured, giving her a knowing look.
He was selling, she realized.
“Suddenly someone was howling and twisting horribly, as if their bones were trying to break out of their body. I managed to let off a stupify at it before I made it out,” he said. Malfoy bent over, putting his head in his hands. “I should have tried to help the people there. But instead I just ran. Like always”. He turned away, a look of shame etched on his face.
Malfoy had calmed down, but Hermione still felt fear and guilt on the edges of his pheromones. She strained to release more of her pheromones, hoping they were having some effect. She inched closer, forcing her pheromones to envelope his glands. Malfoy’s grey eyes grew distant and some of the tension left his body. Hermione felt herself relax, unaware that she was also clenching her muscles, like she was anticipating something, and she needed to be ready to react in a second. She heaved out a steady breath, a smile spreading across her face affectionately for the man in front of her. When did she ever give Malfoy this amount of her time and energy? When did she start feeling anything towards him other than a fierce loathing and contempt? She thought of Harry’s words from the night before. I don't want to live in the past. Maybe this was the start of her leaving the past behind, too.
Hermione looked up and realized that the proximity between her and Malfoy had narrowed. She could feel the heat rolling off of his body, the breath between them only a whisper, but Hermione heard it like a crack of thunder in the sky. She gasped out a breath and saw Malfoy shiver in response, the air rolling over his sensitive glands. Silver eyes, shimmering despite the darkness of the night, found hers. Malfoy’s pupils blew up, like a tiger locking on to their prey. Her pulse quickened and she felt heat in her groin. She sat back in her seat, and pushed the cup of tea toward him.
Malfoy looked down at the cup, then he raised head to look at Hermione with a pained smile. He chuckled and whispered, “Do you have anything stronger?”
She gave him a half smile, and quickly spun off the seat. She reached above the fridge to grab a bottle of rum, feeling the shorts of her pajamas ride up, cool air tickling her arse. When Hermione turned back, Malfoy’s eyes snapped up to her face, a wicked grin painted on his face and his eyes glowed. He clearly had been enjoying the view. Hermione felt heat rush to her face and down to her groin, her knickers slightly damp. Even still, she squared her shoulders and shot back her own sly smile, never one to be outdone by the likes of Malfoy.
She poured a generous amount into both cups, which he happily accepted. She took a sip, slightly grimacing at the taste before saying, “Why don’t we talk in the living room,” and she led him to the couch.
She took a seat on one end, her legs crossed, and pet Crookshanks who sat on the armrest of the armchair next to her.
Crookshanks hissed and leapt off his perch as Malfoy shooed him away and settled in the armchair. He laid his head in Crookshanks' place, silver hair falling over the side and uncovering his eyes, as he looked woefully at Hermione. His eyes betrayed him, a mischievous glint shining through his mercury eyes.
“Come on, Granger,” he whined. “Shouldn’t you be giving me pets and comforting me after my trying ordeal?” He took a sip of his rum and tea, relaxing even further into the armchair as the warmth of the alcohol rolled over him. “Or is that not what you were trying to do with your honey sweet pheromones?” he said in a purr.
A fresh bouquet of pheromones washed over Hermione. It felt like her glands were soaking them up like a sponge, making her tremble at the erotic nature of the message they were sending. Her knickers felt sticky with want and she curled her legs on the couch to conceal the desire seeping through her flimsy pajamas. Hermione’s hand was still suspended in the air from when she had stopped petting Crookshanks. She lowered it then to grab her mug of tea and take a sip, trying not to react anymore to Malfoy’s pheromones. The rum and tea helped center Hermione and she took a deep breath.
“Can you explain what happened at the club?” she asked in a trembling voice, shattering the facade she tried to present.
“I think we’re well past talking, love.”