Chapter Two:

Hermione couldn't imagine wanting to know what designation you were, much less seeking out the answers. Yet that's what a chunk of Hogwarts did.

The alpha-beta-omega situation, as she liked to call it, was one of the better-kept secrets of the wizarding world. Each time the topic came up, she wanted to knock her head against the nearest surface. Another component of the madness that irritated her to no end was that any child who had been raised around magic already knew.

Being a muggleborn had never angered her. The hand dealt to her had been the winning hand in the very end, but she wished that she could stop feeling like the universe was out to get her.

Harry knew he was an Alpha by the end of the second week. Coincidentally, during the same week, on the same day even, Ginny realized she was also an Alpha. Their fight at a quidditch match, where the two of them tore into one another, became one of the castle's best kept secrets, whispered rumors amplified amid breathless accounts of their conflict. It was just the scent of one another throwing the other off, Madam Pomfrey said.

While Hermione believed that, she wasn't so sure that their relationship was going to work out. The tension between them was visible at all times, the casualness of their relationship already gone. They fought like fucking mad: over quidditch, over lessons, assignments, recently over Hermione.

She wasn't at all sure how the fight had steered toward her, but Hermione had heard it from the end of the corridor as she exited the dungeons from Potions.

There was mostly unintelligible screaming.

Ginny insisted Harry was focusing on his female best friend more than his own girlfriend.

"No," Hermione protested, keeping her distance, as the fiery redhead had recently earned a reputation for losing her temper. She didn't want to be near a fight if it broke out. "Harry has hardly been around me, Ginny."

It was telling how Harry said nothing at all in his defence. Instead, he threw his hands up and walked away.

Ginny fixed her with a hard glare that softened as Hermione stared at the hem of her robes. "Hermione, I'm not angry with you. You don't understand what's going on."

She blinked. "But I—"

"Just stop!" Ginny snapped, her anger flaring back up. "You think you can bloody understand everything just by reading a book. First, it was house elves with your ridiculous spew, and now it's the designations."

"I didn't know you felt that way," Hermione replied stiffly, already turning away. She wasn't so hurt that tears sprang to her eyes, but with the crowd that had gathered, Hermione would have quite liked to hex Ginny.

Ginny snorted. "Of course. Merlin, you're so bloody oblivious. It's always been obvious that you are from —"

Hermione didn't know when Harry had circled back; all she knew was that bright green eyes landed on her while she was ripped out of the volatile situation. "Enough, " he growled, his fingers circling her wrist. "Ginny,"

His girlfriend's eyes had narrowed. "Sorry," she muttered, and turned on her heel.

Harry led Hermione away from the crowd, despite her protests that he should really be with his girlfriend. He wouldn't hear her arguments as he made his way down a corridor. "Just stop, 'Mione. She's in the wrong and I'm not interested in reassuring her that our relationship is perfectly okay."

She stopped in place, wrenching her arm free, staring at him. Her eyebrows drew together. "Harry, the two of you haven't stopped fighting since —"

"Don't," he warned, staring down at her and taking a step toward her.

Her spine met the stone, the curves of her back pressing flush against the wall as he towered over her. Hermione squared her shoulders, peering up at him. Merlin, she could remember how it wasn't so long ago that she had been taller than him. "Don't what?" she hissed. "Should I not talk about things I don't understand?"

His eyes were a brilliant green as they flashed, his palms slamming down on either side of her head while he dipped his head.

She swore her heartbeat wasn't quickening. Instead, she lifted her chin, her hands balling into fists beneath the long sleeves of her Gryffindor robes.

His reply was soft in comparison to the laughter echoing down the corridor. "You really shouldn't, and you know I'm not talking from the same perspective as Ginny."

She glared. "Then just what perspective are you speaking from, Harry? Do you believe I'm just as oblivious as she says because I'm a muggleborn? For Merlin's sake, she was treating me as if I was nothing! As if she believed I was just a mud—"

"I told you to never call yourself that." he rasped, hand dropping and curling a strand of her hair around his finger. "What I mean is that you can't understand how - or what she means because you're not an Alpha."

Her nose crinkled in disgust. "How would you know? I haven't been tested for it yet." Hermione said, her tone haughty and her hands poised on her hips. "Do you… do you know?" Truly, she had never considered making the trip to Madam Pomfrey and having the test performed. Well, only once at midnight had she considered it, after hearing Lavender gush about what sleeping with an Alpha was like.

It rattled her in ways she didn't expect.

Harry exhaled heavily. "I don't know for sure, but I know you're not an Alpha. As bossy and demanding as you may be, you're too small."

She snorted. "Ginny isn't…" Come to think of it she had noticed the girl experiencing a delayed growth spurt since the beginning of the term. "Okay. I still don't understand why she's so angry with me."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I couldn't tell you."

Hermione was pretty sure he was hiding something from her.

Two weeks later, Hermione felt like she had stumbled upon a time turner and fallen back into the past. It started with Ron asking her what she thought of his visiting the hospital wing. She was supportive, stepping into the role as his doting girlfriend and waiting while the test was performed.

It felt like an eternity, waiting for the vial to turn colours. She already knew what each meant. Red for an Alpha, blue for a Beta, and violet for an Omega.

Pomfrey had offered to take care of them both at once, but Hermione had ripped away from the Hogwarts matron as if her touch would burn her. Shaking her head, she quietly tucked herself into Ron's side.

Beta.

She had half expected the result. After coming to terms with the events around her, coupled with Harry having pointed out that size factored into a designation, it was the most logical explanation.

Ron had been okay with the truth for perhaps a half hour. His resolve came crumbling down with the first person, a lower year, to mention that of course, Ron Weasley was a Beta if Harry bloody Potter was an Alpha.

He was angry his best mate was 'better' than him, angry that his younger sister ranked higher than him, and her pointing out that it was all hogwash anyway had only caused him to yell at her.

Things went downhill from there as Harry intervened, snapping that she had done nothing wrong and that this needn't be another Triwizard Tournament affair.

And maybe, just maybe, she mused sarcastically, Harry shouldn't have been so quick to lash out. Yelling that Ron's jealousy was childish and ridiculous had come to a head in the midst of a quidditch match, one that ended with a bludger nearly breaking all of the ribs on Harry's right side.

They hadn't spoken since.

And she was really, really tired of standing between them.

"Ron," she sighed, rubbing her temples as she reached for her self inking quill. "I understand you're upset, but don't you think this has gone on long enough?"

Her boyfriend, though she could laugh at the term given the strain they were currently under, sat beside her in the library. His book sat forgotten in front of him, already shut and precariously close to falling off of the edge. "No." he replied, his tone clipped, and he scowled.

Children, both of them. "You should apologize." Hermione murmured, casting a long look toward where Madam Pince would be lurking, organizing the shelves.

"No." he hissed, grabbing the leg of her chair and pulling her close to him. "He hasn't apologized."

Hermione wanted to throttle him. "What does he have to apologize for? It's not as if he can help it, Ronald. This is just like when he had to participate in the Triwizard Championship. It's hardly his fault when the only thing that can be blamed is old magic."

"Do you have to be so fucking rational about it? It's like you're cut off from emotions!" Ron yelled, his knee slamming into the underside of the table.

Madam Pince kicked him out of the library immediately, colour rising to her cheeks as she shooed him though the door.

She buried her face in her hands, muttering to herself that this was bloody lovely. She could already hardly talk to Harry for fear of making things worse with Ginny, and she was still grossly out of the loop when it came to their struggles. Then there was the lingering suspicion that Ron wouldn't be calming down for several days.

The entirety of Hogwarts had gone fucking mad. and there was nothing she wanted more than to go back in time and end this ridiculous turn of biology before it came to fruition.

Hermione made her way down the corridors, gazing out of the window to see the moon hanging in the sky, barely peeking through wispy clouds. She paused to revel in the silence. Strangely, she hadn't caught one student out of bed tonight. Normally, ever since the educational institution had been turned on its head, she would find her fellow 'eighth years' holed up in an alcove or a cupboard.

Alphas weren't the worst offenders, strangely. Worse were the girls who wanted to continue their late nights.

Moving on, she wrapped her arms around her waist and began to wrap up her rounds.

The castle was silent, not even the whisper of restless portraits or ghosts flitting through the corridors. The silence gave her time to ponder the final battle, and as much as she loathed to remember, it felt like a betrayal to forget.

She knocked a stone out of the way with the tip of her shoe, freezing mid-step.

Someone was behind her.

"Hello?" Hermione asked, pulling her wand from her sleeve. She whirled around, but there was no one there. Just the empty corridor and the eerie quiet. "I already heard you. Stalking the Head Girl is only going to earn you detention."

There was a rustling. Disillusionment charm, she thought to herself. Hermione planted her feet, just like her primary teacher had taught her. "Finite!"

In the same moment the spell slipped away, a shriek fell from her lips. Hands gripped her forearms, sharp nails digging into her skin as she tried to yank away. It didn't work. In the dimly lit passage, she couldn't see their face.

"Let go of me." she hissed, turning her head away as -

He was nuzzling her neck. Hermione knew it was a man by the hard set of his body, rocking against her, the harsh level of his breathing crawling across the base of her throat. His head dipped, his tongue darting out as he traced her clavicle as he tugged her jumper down. "You smell sweet."

It was a rumbling, shuddering rasp that she barely recognized after years of taunts.

Hermione kicked the shit out of him, the toe of her trainers slamming against his shins.

Flint clamped a hand down over her mouth when she screamed, the blood-curdling sound ricocheting against stone walls. It was a fierce echo, and she could only hope someone would come to investigate.

It wasn't the normal scream that accompanied a witch.

Hermione didn't like to admit that she was scared. After all, she had been through worse than this, a war, torture at the hand of fully mad blood purist. This - this paled in comparison to writhing on the floor while she begged.

She tried to think rationally, unable to reach her wand and unable to wriggle free.

Her voice broke when she begged for him to just let her go.

It ended as soon as it began.

Had she not been squeezing her eyes shut, desperate to ignore what she couldn't control, she would have seen the dark silhouette coming up behind Flint

He was tossed from her, a pronounced crack sounding as he landed wrong, his arm twisted around his back.

Hermione slid down the wall, her trembling fingers raising to her mouth.

Harry stood in front of her, his shoulders taut and his jaw clenched in a grim line. She'd seen him angry before - seven years of friendship had exposed her to everything - but this was different. Rather than holding his wand, his fists were clenched. "Are you okay?" Harry asked.

She couldn't speak for fear her voice would crack. Hermione shook her head. Her heart was still lodged in her throat, her legs would surely collapse beneath her if she stood, and her thoughts were scrambled.

Hardy handed her the invisibility cloak, the wispy material sliding through her fingers. It was cool to the touch. "That's okay; I want you to go to your dorm."

"I should take him to—"

He shook his head, crouching down in front of her. He cupped her face and smiled. "I'll take care of him. Right now, I need you to take care of yourself."

Hermione couldn't have explained why she listened, not really. But she'd listened, and only stopped in her tracks when she made it to the next floor.

Frustrated and curious, she wrapped the cloak around herself and waited.

Harry took forever, even for her. She wasn't normally one to deal with that word, considering it was almost always used in exaggeration.

But really, fifty-two minutes felt like a long time when all he needed to do was take Marcus Flint to the headmistress.

He rounded the corner, his features still contorted in anger, but his hands were tucked into his pockets. "Hermione?" Harry stopped right in front of her.

She let the fabric fall, not noticing her jumper was ripped and the fabric laid open. It revealed more than she would have liked, but some witches wore their shirts unbuttoned like that anyway. "How did you know I was here?"

He smiled, nodding behind him and leading her into an alcove. "I don't want Filch to find us."

Hermione could see the reason behind that. "How did you know I was there?"

Harry shrugged. "Same way I knew you were in danger."

"How?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, heavily sighing. "I don't want to have this conversation, 'Mione. And neither do you."

"Don't presume what I want."

His eyes narrowed. "Flint's an Alpha, and an arsehole to boot. I've had my suspicions for a while, but you're an Omega."

Her blood ran cold. Hermione lifted her head, not willing to show her nerves in the slightest. "How do you know if I don't even know?"

He leaned down and sniffed her hair. "Well, it's your smell. Up close, it's unmistakable. From beside you, it's enough to make a well-placed guess, but I've known since the day after I presented."

She hated to sound ridiculous. She was well aware of the mechanics of this, but still. Hermione asked, "I smell?"

Harry chuckled, stepping toward her and tucking a curl behind her ear. "Not badly, no. It's…" he paused, his gaze roaming over her. She wondered if the way his tongue slid against the seam of his lips was subconscious "Intoxicating."

Hermione's skin itched. It wasn't a new sensation. She'd noticed it over the last few weeks, and how she always felt stifled, and how no cooling charm or shower would help her. "So he…?"

She knew, but she didn't fancy saying it.

"He wanted you, wanted to fuck you, and make you take his knot." His eyes were a dark green that made her shiver as he said it.

"If you knew I was in danger, would you know if any other Omega was in trouble?" Oh, gods-her eyes widened-were any others in danger of being raped for simply existing? She couldn't imagine.

"No." he murmured. "I know because it's you."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Ginny has it out for you because she knows she and I can't work out."

"Harry, you're not making sense. You're jumping from topic to topic and I don't understand how this relates to knowing I was in danger."

He blew out a breath. "Sometimes, Alphas have mates. It's a bond, which is not sealed until the Omega goes into heat, but the two of us will never work. Not when I want you."

Her mouth dried. "You want me?"

Harry's nervous tick was to run his fingers through his hair. "I do."

"That's not possible," Hermione croaked.

"Why not?"

It was silly, she should have thought. Her reasoning was no more than her most self-deprecating thoughts. "I'm not that pretty," she answered weakly. "Ginny is gorgeous and I just think this must be incorrect."

His gaze dropped to her chest, the edge of a familiar purple scar peeking out. "You're stunning." he murmured, taking a step closer. Harry leaned toward her, his finger hovering just over the waxy flesh. "There is no mistake here. I want you, but I'm not asking you to be with me."

"You're not?" Hermione's voice was scratchy, her eyes widening. "I don't follow."

Harry shook his head, clenching his jaw and in an instant, his frustrations bled through. "I'm not. Fuck, you're with Ron and as badly as I want to sink into you and beg you to let me have you all to myself, he's my best mate. I can't do that."

Hermione was a quick-witted witch, but the thought of her boyfriend had not crossed her mind once. But she took in what he said. Harry wasn't worried about Ginny, not in the slightest. He gave the impression that the other woman was the last thing that could keep him from closing the gap between them in a Hogwarts alcove at midnight.

And -

Her lips parted. He wanted her. Oh, Merlin, she was an idiot. Her mind had been stuck on the idea of a relationship, but this was primal. It was all about pushing her to the wall and not letting her go until the sun came up.

"What does this mean?" Hermione's mind was still racing at the implications, the possible consequences of a bond. What would it mean for their friendship in the future?

"Go to Madam Pomfrey in the morning. You need to have the test done regardless, just to confirm, and you need to start taking suppressants." As Hermione opened her mouth to argue, he pinned her with a fierce stare. "For the love of Merlin, please don't argue with me."

It was immature to complain of how she didn't want to take the potions to block her heats if she was an Omega. In a moment, a weak one she admitted, Hermione muttered, "I don't want to be on those fucking potions."

"Do you understand what will happen if you don't? What others will try to do? 'Mione," he pleaded, tilting her head up by her chin. "I know you hate everything about this. Alphas already won't be able to control themselves —"

She glared. "It sounds like they should be the ones on a potion then if they can't keep their cocks in the trousers!"

He looked like he wanted to kill her or snog her and he couldn't decide which. "Really, that's a fantastic idea to pursue, but if anything, can I convince you to do it for me?"

She blinked. "Like for your peace of mind? I can protect myself, well... normally. I'll be more careful from now on."

Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I want you to be safe, but it's more for… fuck!" His fist met the wall over her head. "I'm going to walk you to your dorm, and then we can pretend this," he motioned furiously between them, "never happened."

"I don't want to pretend this never happened!" she snapped.

His eyes widened and he angled himself toward her.

"That's not how I meant it." Hermione conceded when he stepped out from the hidden space. "If we're stopped, I'll explain what happened."

He gave a terse nod. "I didn't want you to find out about this."

"Did you think I wouldn't understand? We've always been close, Harry," she replied softly, wrapping her arms around her middle as a cold chill rolled through the corridor.

He didn't reply until they stopped in front of the portrait. Harry's hand reached toward her, his fingers brushing against her arm. With a low chuckle, he shook his head, which he seemed to be doing an awful lot tonight. "This isn't about how close we've always been. When I told Ron I loved you like a sister, it was mostly a lie. I might have never noticed it, but I've always watched you.

"As I said, this is not about how close we are as friends. This is about the way I can feel your disappointment and your upset when Ron hurts your feelings. Maybe it's something simple - he doesn't notice your hair when you sit in front of the mirror an extra ten minutes, or he snaps at you for being more interested in your studies than the upcoming quidditch match. It's about…"

Her chest rose and fell as she waited, hoping he would finish his thought. "What is it about?" Her curiosity would be the death of her. Hadn't she learned better by now?

Hermione thought he was going to push her to the wall and kiss her.

She didn't want to think about how her heart sank when he didn't.

"It's about the fact that I want to beg you to let me crawl between your thighs and ruin you for anyone else." he murmured and he leaned down. Only a little, only enough to cause her heartbeat to quicken. "You are all I can think about anymore. It's so fucking wrong, and she doesn't know the half of it yet."

"What do you think about me?" Perhaps it was her breathlessness that caused him to remember exactly where they were, who they were, and why this couldn't happen.

His mouth closed and he squeezed his eyes shut. His fists clenched and unclenched. "I'm going to take a walk," she was pretty sure he mentioned a cold shower under his breath, "and then I think we should stay away from the other."

He didn't give her a chance to reply before he took his cloak back and vanished. Hermione wasn't sure if he was still standing there when her eyes filled with tears, hot with what felt like want and shame, all combined into one.

No, she wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight.