Chapter Three:

Hermione had visited the Hogwarts matron the next morning alone. As she waited for the result that she already knew, her mind was spinning. It bounced between Harry and Ron and ultimately back to Harry. As she'd laid in bed the night before, she'd known it was guilt that was slowly gnawing at her insides, picking away at her.

Like Harry said, it was wrong, but there was a sharp tugging in her chest.

A few weeks ago, she had thought nothing of it. It was just her friendship with Harry, but she admitted it was a foolish explanation. Friendships don't feel like there's one cord connecting one to the other.

After taking the potion, and tucking the others in her bag, Hermione went to the one place she knew she would find answers.

The library.

To put it all very plainly, she was sick of everything. Ron treated her differently, but it wasn't so much that it was a horrible shift in his behaviour. In fact, he was treating her like bloody fine china, like he was intent on cherishing her. The problem was his reasoning.

Her status.

He felt like he'd finally won something, and while she had wanted to keep it a secret, he showed he had zero qualms with letting everyone know his girlfriend was an Omega. Prized. Treasured. A possession.

She remembered how Harry had promised the two boys would never let anyone treat her as if she was a belonging, a pretty fuck doll to display on a shelf. It was ironic how he boasted of her newfound discovery, especially around Harry. If Ron had known the truth, known the things Harry had said, known the images he'd placed in her head, he would have lost his head.

She felt like she was playing with fire, and she was certain she needed to be logical or she would be burned. On the one hand, there was an undeniable sexual tension that came with being around Harry. It almost felt like the air was sparking, and she couldn't make eye contact. And while Ron might not have noticed, there was little doubt Ginny hadn't.

The redhead was more observant than anyone gave her credit for. She spent the majority of her time around Hermione with a sour disposition, and she didn't include Hermione as she had in the past.

The first time Hermione felt a flare up - her skin burning beneath her clothes in a way a shower could not help - it was two weeks later, and she had been drawn directly to Harry. It was dumb luck that he was alone, but one look at her and he knew.

His hair was still damp from the quidditch showers, droplets of water rolling off stands of inky black hair. He steered her out of sight. Her back met the wall of the structure, and they were neatly tucked away from the castle. His eyes were wide behind wiry frames. "Holy fuck, you're…"

She truthfully didn't know what she was then. An utter clusterfuck of bad luck, Hermione thought sarcastically. "I don't know." she moaned, covering her face with her hands. "I feel like I'm on fire."

She wasn't going into heat, not yet at least, but there was no increasing the dosage of her suppressants. She'd already been to Madam Pomfrey about that.

"I didn't mean to find you, but I kept getting turned around." Hermione murmured, near tears. Coming here felt like cheating, but it wasn't. She wasn't going to surprise him by pushing him to the wall and snogging him, no matter how many times the image had forced itself into her brain.

"I think you're going into heat," he rasped. Harry's hands twitched, but he kept them safely pinned to his sides. "You need to go to Madam Pomfrey."

Hermione laughed miserably. "I already have. She says there's nothing she can do. It's too dangerous to up a dosage in the onset of a heat."

His features softened. Still, Harry didn't reach for her, his morale still solidly in place. "What did she recommend you do?"

"She told me that I had best take care of it before several Alphas went into rut." Hermione muttered, her face heating up at the implications of what the older woman had said. "She gave me a contraceptive potion before I left. I tried to…" she truly didn't want to say anything about it to Harry, but no matter what, he was still her best friend. "I tried to take care of it."

His "How so?" was nearly primal.

Hermione anchored herself by focusing on the white scar on his hand, a token from Dolores Umbridge. "Different ways, it's not too important."

"'Mione," he sighed, and she broke.

"I tried to satisfy myself first," Hermione whispered, not lifting her head. She was not so used to feeling so helpless, not since the war. And yet in a cruel twist, she knew she was so fucked if Harry didn't cave. It wasn't why she'd come to him, but nonetheless. "My fingers aren't enough. I can't make myself come."

He sucked in a breath, fist uncurling. "Fucking hell." Harry groaned. He shifted his weight, no doubt an attempt to hide an erection.

She didn't look.

She wasn't curious, not at all.

"And then I tried to use Ron." The words were out there, and they couldn't be taken back. She'd blurted it, anxious, and then she finally accepted that no matter what they did, it wasn't as if she'd cheated on her boyfriend. Hermione slowly looked at him, tucking hair behind her ears. "Harry?"

He eyes were shut, his lips pursed in a line. It wasn't quite jealousy that rolled off of him. No, it was more like jealousy. "And you're here because I can give you what you need?"

Hermione flinched at his tone. She shook her head. "No, but I thought you would understand more than anyone else. He was angry with me, and yelled at me when I couldn't orgasm."

"Prick." he snarled.

"I know why you've been ignoring me. I think it was more hurtful than helpful. I needed you when I found out and not because I knew eventually - with this bloody bond - that I would need you to fuck me until I couldn't walk." Hermione crossed her arms, unconsciously rubbing her thighs together. "I broke up with Ron when he lost his temper."

He looped an arm around her waist. Harry pulled her tight against his chest. "Did he hurt you?"

She rested her forehead on his chest. "No, he didn't hurt me. Well, he might have wounded my pride, but physically? Never. He hasn't been acting right since you presented. He's ridiculously jealous."

"It's funny because here I was, jealous of him."

She knew why, but still, she had to ask. "I'm sorry to storm in on you. I don't want to drive a wedge between you and Ginny."

Harry nuzzled her hair, his fingers running along her spine. "We broke up a few days ago. I have no doubt she's upset, but it's definitely not because she's in love with me."

It wasn't right for her mind to cling to the news. "I didn't know."

He nodded. "Of course not. I was avoiding you like a coward."

"You were trying to do the right thing," she argued.

His chest shook below her touch. "Fucking absurd when all the things I want to do to you, with you, when you're dating my best mate would be anything but the rights thing to do."

Heat pooled between her thighs. "Harry?"

Turning his face into her hair, dropping a kiss to the top of her head, he seemed to have already forgotten. "Mmm?"

"I'm not dating your best mate anymore. I didn't come here to seduce you, so please don't believe I did. But I either need you to take care of me or help me get to the Room of Requirement before…"

The incident with Flint did not need repeating.

"I'll take you to the Room of Requirement." Her heart sank. "But only because I need to be with you where no one can barge in. I hate to say it, and it's definitely just the dominant traits taking over," Harry tugged her hair, tipping her head and kissed her roughly, his tongue barely sliding along the seam of her lips, "but I'm likely to tear them apart if they do."

Unfortunately, multiple students saw them. A Gryffindor girl a year below them saw how Harry couldn't - wouldn't- keep his hands to himself. Fortunately, Hermione didn't particularly wasn't sure how much she could stand to do so, either.

Books detailed what it felt like, but nothing would have accurately prepared her for the growing slickness between her thighs, the heat below her collar, her nipples stiffening against the cups of her bra. Hermione gripped his hand in her own as they hurried to the seventh floor, both content to ignore various peers gawking at them.

There was no mistaking what they were going to do. Ron and Ginny would know, but that sounded like a problem for her to deal with in the future.

She didn't know what Harry imagined before he ripped her inside. He pressed her to the wall, his hands already sliding down her sides. He gripped her waist, lifting her where she'd wrapped her legs around his hips.

"Please," she whispered weakly, her fingers sliding through the curls at the base of his neck. "Harry, I feel like I'm on fire."

It wasn't as rough as the kiss at the quidditch showers. Rather he held her up easily, leaving his hands to slide over her. His fingers grazed bare skin as her shirt rode up. "I'll take care of you," he groaned as she palmed his cock through his trousers. "Such good care of you." His voice was filled with delicious promises that she wanted to unfold straight away.

She whimpered, pulling the hem of her shirt over her head. "Harry." Hermione's head fell to the door, and his lips slowly moved from her lips to along her jawline, and down her neck.

He whispered how sweet her skin tasted, and how he wondered how sweet her tight cunt would taste beneath his tongue. "Can you imagine?" Harry uttered softly, pulling her from the wall and carrying her across the room. It was luck that the room provided a bed, a rather large one at that, and it dipped beneath their combined weight. "Can I have you that way?"

Dazed and feeling like she was floating below him, Hermione had forgotten the original conversation. "You can have me whatever way you want."

He grinned wickedly, laying her across soft sheets. "Can I? So you'll let me spread your legs and lick your cunt?" Harry was incorrigible and made her nod after each listed item. "What if I want to see you writhe against the bed while I slide my fingers inside of you? You said that your fingers weren't enough. What about mine?" He laid his hand against the apex of her thighs, index finger slowly rubbing her through the denim.

She choked on her agreement.

"And if I want to take you with your legs over my shoulders? On your hands and knees? That section of the wall looks rather sturdy."

Hermione giggled. "Yes, to all of them." She vanished their clothes, every piece, and watched the playfulness evaporate.

Harry leaned over her, his chest barely brushing hers while he kissed her. He rolled onto his back, draping her nude body over his chest while he rubbed her back. "You're stunning." he murmured.

"I want you." she mewled, digging her nails into his chest while she straddled his waist. "I don't want to wait." It had already been long enough. "Please, Harry."

Gripping her hips, he stopped her before she could ride him. "Not that it makes any difference to me, but are you a virgin?"

She would have muttered how sweet he was, how thoughtful he was, but she only shook her head. "I'm not. It's been a long time, and it might be uncomfortable at first, but…" Hermione rolled her hips, the tip of his cock sliding between her folds.

"Oh, fucking Merlin." Harry hissed. "Whatever you want," he growled.

Her moan was loud as she reached down, not breaking eye contact as she slowly slid down his thick length. Hermione braced her palms against his chest, rocking against him, whimpers spilling from her lips. She gasped his name as she rolled her hips.

His hands were everywhere, gripping her hips roughly as he lifted her, bringing her back down and bottoming out inside of her.

She scratched his chest, capturing her bottom lip in between her teeth. "Harry," she keened, rocking her hips against his. More, she wanted more.

Already knowing, Harry flipped them easily, pinning her trembling body to the mattress. "So pretty," he murmured, dragging his finger over her breasts, the tip of his finger grazing her nipple. As she arched her back, locking her legs around his waist, he smirked. "I think I like you this way," Harry rasped, his hips snapping forward. "Flushed, and writhing below me."

She clawed at the silk sheets, bunching them in her grip. "Fuck," Hermione whined, her hand sliding down her belly and her fingers circling her clit. "Harry, please!" she gasped as he smacked her hand away.

His stare was dark as it trailed over her skin. "I'll give you what you want," Harry said softly, his thumb rubbing her clit. "I want to give you everything you want."

Gods, she choked. His fingers were so much better than her own. Late nights in her dorm, curtains drawn and silencing charms had nothing on the way his calloused fingers stroked the bundle of nerves. Hermione whimpered, pressing herself closer to him. "Then fuck me harder."

He stilled, grinning as his palms met the bed and he hovered over her. "Harder?" he murmured, nipping her collarbone. "Can you take it?"

Her eyes were blown wide, her pupils dilated. He was egging her on, only for a moment, but if he didn't move, she was going to snap. When this was over - she gritted her teeth as he continued rubbing her clit - Hermione was going to create a charm for him to feel what it was like to have a heat.

She couldn't complain much at the moment, as long as he kept fucking moving.

"I'm not glass," she growled, sliding her fingers through his hair. "I need you to fuck me as hard as you —" Hermione's scream tore from her throat as he scooped her up.

Her legs were over his shoulders, and he was holding her up with one arm wound tightly around her waist. "Like this?" he groaned. "Gonna come for me, 'Mione?"

She nodded, her nails biting into the muscle of his shoulders. "I need to—"

"I'll take such good care of you," he whispered into her neck.

His words. Merlin's bollocks, his words were going to be her undoing. Hermione, still dazed as he pounded into her, thought she must have said it out loud by his next words.

"Come. Come all over my cock," he nuzzled her neck.

It didn't take much more than that. Hermione shrieked, smashing her lips to his and tightening her legs around his waist. She heard him say in low tones that he would fill her over and over again.

Hermione woke with her body deliciously sore, her inner thighs slick, and her hair tangled against the pillows. "Mmm," she reached across the bed, but the space was empty. Her eyes opened quickly and she sat up. The sheets settled around her waist, and her breasts were bared.

The room was empty.

"I'm over here," Harry called, and he was sitting in a leather chair that had not been there the night before. "Did you sleep well?" He hadn't bothered with his own clothes. "Come here."

Hermione padded across the plush carpet and straddled his waist. "I slept well. How long was I asleep?"

He shrugged. "Six hours. You should probably sleep more, but I don't think you want to do that, do you?"

Her cheeks coloured. "I want you, again," Hermione whispered. She reached between them, taking his half hard cock in his hand, and stroking it. "Fuck, I want you so badly." The feeling was akin to flames licking her skin.

He picked her up, something she would have argued with were she herself rather than… rather than a dripping and begging mess.

Hermione gazed up at him as he set her on the bed. She wanted to slide to the floor, sink to her knees and wrap her lips around the head of his cock. That was decidedly not what she asked, however. "Have you thought about marking me?"

He froze, but his eyes flicked to her neck, his eyes narrowing. "That's a dangerous question, 'Mione."

She swallowed, venturing, "I've thought about it." Hermione sat on her knees at the edge of the bed, stretching her arms forward and running her hands over his chest. "Can you imagine it?"

She could, had imagined it. He hadn't let his touch drift near the sensitive spot on her neck, a gland as it was called. She'd imagined as he'd pressed her into the mattress the night before, what would it feel like to his fingers to brush against it? His tongue?

"I've imagined it in vivid detail since the day on the pitch." he swallowed, pressing her back by her shoulders. Harry knelt between her legs, his hands grasping her soft inner thighs.

Her body stiffened as his tongue slide against her folds, gently lavving her. A finger slid into her, then two when she whimpered for more.

It wasn't quite enough to satisfy her, she would need him sinking into her, but this?

"Oh, fuck," she hissed as her back arched.

She'd lost count of how many times he'd taken her. They were beginning to blur together with her pleading for him to pay special attention to the sensory gland on her neck. "Please, Harry. I'm already yours, Just —"

In rare, little moments of clarity, she could remember it wasn't fair to test his limits so far.

Like presently.

Hermione pushed herself back against him, moving and taking him deeper. "Oh," she moaned, burying her face into the pillow. "Harry." Hermione cried.

His fingers slid against her spine. "You're so fucking tight."

"Harry, please. Touch me —"

With a growl, he brushed her hair to the side, the pads of his fingers barely sliding across the gland. It was as much as he was going to give her, and he snarled that it wasn't so smart to keep begging.

Harry had gotten food brought from the kitchens. He met the house elves and the door, his trousers slung around his hips. The muscles of his back contorted as he took the platter, kicking the door shut behind him.

He fed her a strawberry, a smirk solidly in place. "How do you feel?"

"Horny," she muttered, parting her lips. The fruit was sweet against her tongue, and Hermione climbed into his lap. She wore his quidditch shirt, which might have slightly smelled of sweat before, but now it just smelled like sex. It hung to her mid-thigh, but her knickers were gone and likely destroyed somewhere in the room.

"Merlin," he laughed, "you're insatiable."

She nodded, her tongue sliding along his finger when he fed her another strawberry. "Pretty sure it comes with the whole Omega thing. You know, the part where I beg for you to shove your thick cock into me, knot me, mark me?" Hermione grinned innocently and plucked a strawberry from the bowl. "Want one?"

The bowl clattered to the floor, breaking into three uneven pieces. "I could knot you," he whispered against her jaw, kissing down her neck. "You're on the potion, but I thought I would get you through this heat without —"

She clicked her tongue. "So noble." Hermione hissed. "I want it."

Harry manoeuvred her to where she was still in his lap, but her back was to his chest. "I won't mark you."

"I want to be yours."

His chest rumbled with laughter. "You're mental if you think you aren't already mine," Harry whispered, pulling his shirt over her head. "So wet," he pressed his lips to her spine, fingers sliding through her folds. "Is this for me?"

She squeezed her eyes shut. It sounded like a cheesy line, like something out of a novel.

"I asked you a question," he repeated as two fingers pumped into her.

Hermione rocked against his fingers, her own hands cupping her breasts. "Yes, " she whispered.

Harry's fingers slid out of her. "Lean back," he instructed and slid into her cunt with one thrust.

Hermione's head fell to his shoulder as she gasped his name. He whispered to her, telling her how pretty she was as she writhed in his lap, moaning his name and begging for it harder.

"Pull your hair to the side." Harry murmured, placing open mouthed kisses against her shoulder. "I'm not going to mark you, Hermione. Not when you're half out of your mind." Rather, his tongue flattened against the sensitive skin. Harry gently lapped at her, holding up steady as she began to shake.

"Oh, Gods," Hermione mewled, her movements frenzied as she rocked against him. And then she was near sobbing as he continued his tongue a soft, but firm pressure against the mating gland.

His teeth scraped it as his cock began to swell, and he murmured, "Gonna knot your pretty tight cunt."

She gasped for air, gripping the sides of the chair as his movements slowed. He was stretching her, but there wasn't the pain she'd imagined. I mean, being stretched to accommodate should hurt, by all logic. Hermione moaned his name, his designation. He paid special attention to her breasts, lightly pinching her nipples.

Feeling impossibly full, Hermione slumped against him. "I think I'm going to come." she whimpered, wriggling her arse in his lap. "Fuck!"

Harry reached around, rubbing her sore clit. "Sweet Omega," he rasped, nuzzling the back of her neck, his teeth sliding against the gland again.

Her scream could have brought the entire castle down around their ears.

When they returned to classes, she expected a fallout. Either from Ron or Ginny or for the judgements of their peers to bother her. Only none of it got under her skin at all. Ron was furious, but one word out of turn toward her had caused Harry to nearly be expelled.

He needed to get his protective streak under control or she would hex him herself. She could protect herself.

Ron was upset, unsurprisingly so, when his girlfriend - recently turned ex-girlfriend - had landed in the lap of his best friend immediately. For the moment, he wasn't talking to either of them.

Ginny wasn't angry, not that Hermione could see anyway. She'd only given a slow nod to the two of them.

As for the rest of the school, it wasn't likely anyone would say something out of turn to Harry Potter or Hermione Granger.

"You reckon they'll ever stop staring?" Harry asked, his hand securely locked in hers as they made their way to the library.

Hermione didn't much care for the group of sixth year Ravenclaws. She shrugged. "I think they're baffled by the fact that you fucked me for three days straight last month." True, there had been no hiding exactly what had happened that weekend.

He chuckled. "How are you feeling? You were worried about your exams this morning."

Hermione's face darkened. "It's a mess, Harry." she murmured, making her way into the library and leading him to the back of the room "Plus, I have a personal project I've been working on and - that's not fair." Hermione shuddered as he swept her hair to the side and pressed his lips to the mark on her neck.

He'd picked up on how it was the best way to calm her whenever she was wound so tightly he thought she might snap. "Breathe, 'Mione. What's this personal project about? You've never mentioned it."

She grinned. "Well, I think it's unfair that you have no idea how it feels for me to be in heat, so I've created a charm."

His eyes widened. "A… charm? What sort of charm?"

Hermione tapped his nose. "The kind that induces symptoms of a heat so you'll learn to never tease me when I'm begging again," she whispered, but her tone was utterly flippant. "How does this weekend sound? Room of Requirement?"

Never one to back down from a challenge, Harry nodded before pressing her to the bookshelf and sliding his hand beneath her skirt. "Sure."