Chapter Text
Chapter 1 Observations
Omegas’ first heats are typical of the adolescent female -
fatigue, headache and cramping until bleeding begins.
There is none of the driving desire to mate and males are not drawn to
them in any way other than what is considered typical male adolescent behavior.
Around the time an Omega turns twenty-one however,
she will experience a heat unlike the ones they’ve had before.
She will become overheated, foggy, and desperate for sexual stimulation.
She will only have a single purpose:
find someone to mate with.
- Magical Creatures by Spartacus Scamander (1701)
God he hated these galas. Having to dress up, put on his mask, occlude. Saying 'hello, how are you?’ to all the old guard, frumpy women, the last few of the Sacred 28 who actually held any sway with Society. They were all dripping in family jewels, hair pulled into intricate updos, bodies stuffed into robes that probably cost more galleons than most of the Ministry workers’ annual salaries.
Ah yes, the Pureblood women of the Wizarding World held all the cards. After all, most of their husbands/lovers were wasting away in Azkaban, having put their golden eggs into the wrong basket, again. The women, however, weren't raised to be poor. They scratched and clawed their way back into everyone’s good graces and somehow managed to keep their reputations intact.
Draco hated them. He detested them for cutting Narcissa out of their lives once it was revealed that she lied about Harry Potter being dead, spitting her out like muggles spat out their chewing gum and left her for someone else to step in. He would never forgive them.
Draco leaned against a column and looked down at the dance floor. He always hid out up there, in the mezzanine, so he could watch everyone unimpeded. See who was dancing with who, who was drinking their weight at the bar, who was…Wait a minute. Was that? Holy shit, it was.
Hermione Granger.
Hermione Granger, rising star in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Savior of house elves everywhere. Last thing he heard about her was that she actually got legislation passed for werewolves. Of course she would be here. Always the goody-goody; always wanting the recognition, the praise of a job well done.
She was sitting at the bar, looking—well, not quite herself. Draco bent over the railing, trying to focus on her face. She looked red, maybe a little sweaty. He could see tendrils of hair sticking to her neck. She was fiddling with her hands, waiting for a drink. The bartender brought her a large glass of…water? What the hell?
He had never seen Hermione Granger out of her element, not since the war, at least. Especially at these things; she loved to hobnob, eager for half an ear to listen to her tripe. What was going on with her? He found his curiosity piqued despite himself.
Finishing his drink and setting it on a table by the stairs, he sauntered down to the main floor, hands placed nonchalantly in the pockets of his immaculately elegant black robes, and by the time he reached the bottom he had rearranged his features to that of a jaded dilettante. He greeted a few of the old women on his way to Theo and Blaise, and avoided the younger women trying to hook one of the few wealthy men who weren’t the same age as their fathers, or in prison. He walked up to his friends, thinking maybe the women would give up and stop trying to get his attention. They didn’t. He got a better look at Granger sitting at the bar and felt a sudden urge to be over there. Without even looking at the faces of the women currently swarming him like bees on honey, he excused himself and continued on his way.
The closer he got to the bar, a peculiar fragrance wafted towards him. It was noticeable even underneath all the smoke, perfumes and candles in the room, and it enveloped him. It pulled on him, urging him on to move towards the bar as if he wasn’t already going there.
He sidled up to Hermione and asked the bartender for two Ogden’s. Watching the bartender move around to fetch glasses and fill them up, he took a small sniff of the air. It’s coming from her. What in the world?
“Care to join me?” He slid one of the glasses over to her. “You look like you could use it.”
Hermione turned towards him saying, “No, I—” She stopped when she recognized who it was. “Oh, it’s you. Come to slum it with the common people?” She looked at him disdainfully as she picked up her water glass and drank.
“Now, now, Granger, don’t look a—what is it the muggles say again? A gift horse in the mouth?” His eyes flashed a stormy grey as he offered her cheers and drained his glass. The scent was almost overpowering him. “You looked a little out of sorts. I thought you could use a pick me up.”
“Well, I have to admit it is a bit warm in here,” Hermione finished her water and went on to grab the glass he’d just offered her. “But I don’t think alcohol will help the situation. Still—” she took a sip and closed her eyes. “You know muggles make the best whiskey. But this—” gesturing to her glass, “—this is a little slice of heaven.” She put the glass down and picked up a cocktail napkin to blot her mouth but couldn’t seem to resist licking a drop of whiskey from her upper lip.
Draco watched her movements as she tried to pat down the sweat on her forehead. Without thinking, he leaned forward and wiped away an errant bead that was escaping down her temple with his thumb. Halfway through his action, he suddenly stopped himself, realizing how forward he’d been. He started to apologize, but to his utter surprise she closed her eyes and leaned into him, emitting a small sigh.
They both realized what she had done at the exact same moment, and Hermione drew back with a horrified look on her face. Draco had a moment of absolute clarity as the last puzzle piece clicked into place. He narrowed his eyes and scrutinized her.
“Merlin, Granger, if you keep doing that, you’re going to have every wizard sniffing your skirt.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” she retorted indignantly. “I just said it was warm in here. Is that not allowed, oh Master Malfoy?”
“You mean you don’t know? The warmth, the smell, whatever that was…“ he waved his arm in her general direction, then leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “you’re an Omega.”
He felt her shiver in response to the whisper, but when she pulled back to look at him, he could tell she had no idea what he was talking about.
“An O- what?” She looked at him quizzically.
“Omega. Answer me this: how long have you been feeling warmer than usual?” He leaned against the bar.
“Just since this evening. I told you, it's warm here. What are you talking about…Omega?” She wadded up the napkin and wiped the back of her neck.
“Mm-hmm. An Omega is a rare thing in the Wizarding World. It’s an anomaly of biology. An Omega is a female who goes into a kind of heat, every few weeks or months. Not like when you..um..you know..” Draco looked to Hermione for some kind of acknowledgment of what he’s talking about, but she didn’t bite. “Damn, when you menstruate. You do know what that is, right?” He couldn’t help the sarcasm.
Hermione scoffed. “Of course I do, you dolt. I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck, you know.”
“Turnip truck? Oh, let me guess, another muggle saying.” Draco rolled his eyes.
She tapped the side of her nose and said, “Bingo. I just wanted to see if you could actually say the word.” She smirked at him. “My, my Malfoy, now you’re the one who looks a little flushed.” She picked a piece of ice out of her glass and started to reach behind his ear. He grabbed her wrist and pulled it back.
“Don’t. You have no idea what you’ll start if you do.” Instead of letting go, he brought her hand to his mouth and sucked the ice cube right off her fingers.
Hermione’s reaction was instant. She started to squirm in her chair and panted a little bit, as if she’d just run up a flight of stairs.
“Malfoy, what are you doing?”
“Just testing the waters, er, ice, so to speak.” He put her hand back in her lap and pushed on it. “How does that make you feel?” He ground his knuckles into her palm and waited for her reaction.
Hermione closed her eyes and let out a soft whimper. Realizing what she had just done, she opened her eyes and pushed his hands away. “You were saying, about an Omega?” Trying to bring the tenor of their conversation back to what it should be, a conversation, not a seduction.
“An Omega is a woman, who goes through heats and at that time is in desperate need of resolution.” There, managed to get it all out without mucking it up, he thought.
Hermione looked at him in utter disbelief. “What? Whoever heard of such a thing?” She continued to fidget in her seat and got the bartender’s attention to ask for another water.
“Well, it’s pretty rare now; there hasn’t been one in a couple of centuries. But I believe, Granger, that you are one. I could smell you from clear over there." He pointed to the doorway. "I didn’t know it was you at first. I just followed the scent and it brought me to you. When the Omega presents, human males, just like male animals of other species, are drawn to her and want to mate with her. So tell me: have you noticed anything here tonight that seemed unusual? Any admirers you didn’t know you had?” The last line he leaned forward again to whisper in her ear.
She gripped the bar tightly, attempting to control her reactions, but Draco knew the effect he was having on her. At the same time, however, he was fully aware of how her actions were affecting him. He was on the verge of picking her up, throwing her over his shoulder, and making for the exit. She was ambrosia to him; he could hardly think of anything else.
At first Hermione huffed at the suggestion but then she stopped and her eyes widened in understanding. “Oh, Merlin, there was a goblin who tried to start a conversation with me. And that must be why Seamus Finnigan came over to me and wanted to ‘catch up.’ I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why he wanted to do that, but now it makes sense. Shit," she looked around uneasily, "what do I do?”
Draco could tell that she was taking him seriously, so he decided to have a little fun.
“Well, you can come with me to one of the alcoves upstairs, let me fuck you, and take care of both our little problems. You’ll feel better and I’ll have you out of my system. It’s a win-win.” He looked at Hermione with a dead-pan expression.
“What are you talking about? You think fucking will make me feel better? Wow, Malfoy, I know you hate me, but I didn’t think you would take me for a slut,” Hermione said in disgust.
“No, I don’t, but if you continue like I think you are going to, every male within 50 yards of you is going to start trying to get you in a corner for that express purpose. You should probably leave.” Draco started to grab a few galleons to pay his tab. He figured, after telling her what would truly, ultimately happen, she might get desperate enough to beg him for relief. After all, this was Hermione Granger, celebrated war heroine, brightest witch of their age and the last person to be considered a slag. If any of the men acted on his instincts and cornered her here, her reputation would be ruined.
“Wait, what are you doing? Where are you going? You can’t just leave me here, Malfoy. If what you say is true, I can’t be seen looking like this.” She ran her hands through the strands of hair that had pulled loose from her chignon and then tried to pat down the sheen on her face. She started to squirm again and looked at Draco with pleading eyes.
“Oh no? Watch me, Granger.” He turned to walk towards the exit, but then stopped; he could hear her rustling and then her scent surrounded him again. He smiled to himself. Oh, is this going to be good. I could probably do anything I wanted to and she might let me.
“Malfoy, can you help me?” She hurried up to reach his side. He didn't acknowledge her. “Malfoy, did you hear me?” She grabbed his elbow and turned him around to face her. He looked around to see if anyone was watching their tete a tete and, seeing everyone otherwise occupied, looked down at her for a minute with hooded eyes and then leaned forward to whisper in her ear:
“Beg me.”