Chapter Text
September 1998
Strange things has been happening to Hermione following her 19th birthday.
Hermione first noticed the shift in her body. At first, she thought it was just the result of stress finally easing up after years of war. But this wasn’t like anything she’d experienced before. Her body was changing.
Her clothes started fitting differently, and not in the way they did when she’d grown a little taller after fourth year. It was more than that—her breasts were fuller, her hips wider, and her curves seemed more pronounced. It wasn’t just a subtle change. She’d always been slim and athletic, but now her figure was undeniably softer, more womanly. Even her skin seemed to glow with an almost ethereal radiance.
Ginny and the other girls took notice of it too but didn't think something was amiss at first.
"You're growing up, Hermione. I think it's just your body catching up with you. But... it’s different, isn’t it? You’re glowing.” Ginny said, raising an eyebrow with a knowing look, before glancing down at Hermione’s more pronounced curves. “It’s... not just puberty, right?”
She nodded fervently. Hermione was sure it's not because of the stress-free environment, or just puberty. It isn't normal.
The events of the next few days only confirmed Hermione’s growing suspicions.
In Potions class, Draco Malfoy—one of the few students from her year who had returned—caught her eye for the first time in weeks. His apology after the Battle of Hogwarts had seemed sincere, but there was something in his gaze now that unsettled her.
It wasn’t just the cold indifference she’d expected. No, this time, it was hunger.
She recognized that look. She’d seen it in Bellatrix Lestrange’s eyes—a hunger for entertainment, for blood. She’d seen it in Voldemort’s—hunger for power. But Malfoy's… it was different. She didn’t know what it was, but she could feel it.
It terrified her.
Her body, now so sensitive to the presence of others, had begun to react to Malfoy in a way that made her feel uncomfortably aware of his every movement. The slight tilt of his head, the sharp glint in his grey eyes—it was as if her senses had been heightened to a level she hadn’t anticipated. The changes weren’t just physical. There was something else at play, something that was drawing people closer to her, whether she wanted it or not. And that hunger in his eyes, the way he stared at her—it only confirmed one thing: whatever was happening to her body was pulling their paths together in ways she couldn’t control.
It was unnerving.
Hermione knew she had to find answers. She’d spent the entire week in the library, poring over every book she could find, but nothing explained the changes in her body.
If Draco Malfoy was feeling the same pull, maybe he had some answers. It made sense—if this was something magical, something instinctive, he might know more.
The thought of asking him made her skin crawl. But the truth was undeniable: whatever was happening, it was drawing them together. She couldn’t ignore it any longer.
----
In the end, she couldn’t summon the nerve to walk up and talk to Draco Malfoy. Instead, she went straight to the Headmistress’ office to share her troubles. What she learned there changed her life forever.
Hermione sat motionless in the chair across from the Headmistress, her eyes fixed on nothing. She hadn’t seemed to register most of what McGonagall had just said.
“… we haven’t had one in ages…”
“You’re an omega, Hermione.”
Her mind raced through everything she'd read, every spell she'd learned, every obscure law she'd ever studied—but nothing, absolutely nothing, had prepared her for this.
The truth hit her like a hex. In this world, an omega’s life wasn’t her own.
"An omega," she thought bitterly. The word felt foreign, archaic, like something out of a fairy tale gone wrong. She’d always believed knowledge was power, but for the first time in her life, all the books and all the spells in the world couldn’t save her.
It made Hermione sick.
She’d been through so much—fighting Voldemort, watching friends die, surviving trauma that no one should have to endure—and now, her body was betraying her in ways she couldn’t yet understand.
Her hands trembled in her lap, but her jaw tightened. No law, no archaic tradition would dictate her life—not after everything she'd survived.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione steadied herself. Her voice was quieter when she finally spoke but no less firm. "Can I just refuse an alpha?"
McGonagall hesitated. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she answered, her tone tinged with sorrow. "I wish it were that simple, Miss Granger. Omegas…"
She paused, seeming to weigh her words carefully. "Omegas are exceedingly rare and often too vulnerable to survive without… intervention. They’ve been hidden for centuries—erased from books, their existence all but forgotten."
McGonagall’s expression softened, though her voice remained steady. "You may very well be the last known omega, Hermione. Omegas… occupy a unique place in our society, one fraught with outdated hierarchies and injustice. They’re seen as submissive, their sole purpose tied to breeding the offspring of alphas. Alphas, ever the dominant, often escape accountability. Consent matters little, especially when an omega is in a rut. The laws…" McGonagall hesitated, her voice thick with disdain, "…favor alphas."
Hermione opened her mouth to protest, but the word "rut" hung in her mind like a curse.
"Wait," Hermione interjected suddenly, her voice faltering. "Rut? Like… that of animals?"
McGonagall’s face flushed an alarming shade of pink. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well… yes, Miss Granger," she said, clearly uncomfortable. "It’s not a pleasant topic, but… yes, that is what it’s called. It’s… it’s a biological response, one that causes an omega to be in a state of heightened sensitivity and… urges. It’s a natural part of the—"
Hermione’s face flushed. "Right, okay. I… I didn’t expect you to explain that to me."
McGonagall quickly adjusted her robes, visibly flustered.
Hermione’s stomach churned, but another question burned in her mind. She frowned and spoke cautiously, her voice tinged with disbelief. “But… how is this possible? I’m Muggle-born. This—this is surely something out of pure-blood lore, isn’t it?”
McGonagall’s face tightened, her expression unreadable. “That’s precisely what makes this so unprecedented. For centuries, the belief was that such traits only manifested in pure-blood lines—particularly those of the old families.” Her tone turned bitter. “A belief that only served to bolster their sense of superiority.”
Hermione’s stomach churned. Her voice was sharp with desperation. “Then how?” Hermione pressed. “How could I—of all people—be an omega?”
“I don’t have an answer for you yet,” McGonagall admitted, her voice low. “But the fact that you are… it undermines everything we thought we understood about magical genetics. Perhaps the suppression of omegas and the intermingling of bloodlines played a role. Or perhaps…” She trailed off, shaking her head. “I’ll need time to research this further.”
Hermione clenched her fists. Her very existence was a challenge to the system—another reason for society to reject her, another layer of prejudice to overcome. “So, what? My blood makes me unworthy of being a witch, but apparently, it doesn’t disqualify me from being…” She trailed off, unable to say the word aloud.
McGonagall’s gaze softened. “Miss Granger, I know this must feel like yet another injustice. But please understand, your value is not diminished by this revelation. If anything, it proves just how extraordinary you are.”
Hermione nodded, but her thoughts spiraled. If the wizarding world ever discovered she was both Muggle-born and an omega, it wouldn’t just mean ridicule—it could mean danger. Real, visceral danger.
"There must be someone who can help me," she said at last, her voice sharp with desperation. For a brief, absurd moment, Hermione thought of Draco Malfoy. He might be an alpha—no, she could feel it. He was arrogant, insufferable, and every inch the type society glorified, but he wasn’t cruel. At least, not anymore. Could he...? No, she quickly dismissed the thought before it could take root.
McGonagall’s face was grim. "The Ministry has buried most of the records. It was easier to let omegas fade into myth than to face the implications of their existence. But now that you’ve emerged, I fear…" She trailed off, her sentence unfinished.
Hermione frowned, unable to keep her curiosity at bay. "Headmistress, if this was kept a secret, how do you know so much about it?"
For a moment, something flickered across McGonagall’s face—an emotion Hermione couldn’t quite place—before her expression settled into neutrality.
"I…" McGonagall hesitated. "I will explain when the time is right, Miss Granger. For now, I must focus on finding a solution."
She straightened, her tone firm. "The most important thing is to keep this a secret. If the wrong people find out…" She left the warning unfinished, but the weight of her words pressed down on Hermione like a curse.
Hermione nodded reluctantly and rose to leave. As she stepped out of the office, one thought lingered in her mind: For how long can I keep this a secret?
---
She doesn't know how to tell her friends about it.
Hermione wasn’t one to skip classes—after all, she was vying for straight Outstandings in her NEWTs. But who could blame her? Her entire world had just shattered less than an hour ago. So, instead of heading straight to her next lesson, she found herself seated in a secluded area of the school grounds. She was alone, and for once, that suited her perfectly. She allowed herself to wallow in frustration and sadness, staring at the grass beneath her feet, lost in thought.
She thought about telling her parents, but quickly dismissed the idea. They had regained their memories, but the truth had devastated them. They weren’t angry with her—at least, they said they weren’t—but they needed time to process everything. And so, Hermione had given them that space. It had been a month since she’d last heard from them, and despite their words, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were still so far away from accepting what she had gone through.
Harry and Ginny would surely find it mind-blowing, but they would be there for her. She knew it. They’d offer the support she needed, no questions asked. But still, the weight of the truth was almost unbearable, and her heart twisted at the thought of laying it all out for them.
And Ron… well, she didn’t even know where to begin with him.
Thirty minutes passed before Hermione made a decision. She couldn’t let this situation define her. She couldn’t let it take her away from her goals. So, with a deep breath, she stood, brushing the dust from her robes, and made her way back toward the castle.
As she walked toward her next class, a strange, familiar scent stopped her in her tracks.
Alpha.
He was near, and he was coming closer. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she froze, panic settling over her like a heavy blanket. She didn’t know why she was so afraid, but the instinct was undeniable. Her breath caught in her chest, and it took a second for her to spot a flash of blonde hair in her peripheral vision.
Draco Malfoy.
She turned and darted into an alcove, her heart pounding against her ribs. She leaned against the stone wall, desperately trying to calm herself, feeling the scent of him cling to the air around her.
It all became painfully clear to Hermione in that moment—how much her body had changed. Her senses were heightened, yes, but this was different. She could smell every student she passed in the halls, but this... this was consuming. The scent of him—it gripped her entire being, making her body feel hot, like she was burning from the inside out.
Her breaths became shallow as she closed her eyes, silently willing Malfoy to just keep walking, to leave her alone.
She felt rather than heard him pause in his tracks and slowly turn to the alcove she's currently in.
Merlin, please no.
Seconds ticked by, each one feeling like an eternity, before she finally heard him take a step forward again, walking away. She exhaled in relief, but it was short-lived. The reality of it hit her all at once, crashing over her like a tidal wave. His effect on her... was terrifying. And it was only from proximity. She hadn’t even met his gaze yet. What would have happened if they’d been standing face-to-face, no barriers between them?
Heat rushed to her neck, then to her cheeks, the heat making her feel dizzy. I would've jumped at him...
Shaking her head, she quickly went out the alcove and half ran towards the Headmistress' office.
---
"I’ve written letters, scoured the archives, reached out to... trusted colleagues. I made sure to hide your identity," McGonagall admitted quietly, her voice laced with frustration. "But there’s so little left about omegas, Hermione. And what I’ve found... it’s not promising."
A lump formed in Hermione’s throat, but she swallowed it down, urging the Headmistress to continue. McGonagall’s gaze softened with sympathy, but the next words she spoke were like a hammer to Hermione’s chest.
"Your heat is fast approaching, Hermione. Your presentation is reaching its peak." McGonagall's words hung heavy in the air. "It may have been triggered by the close proximity with an alpha."
Hermione’s heart skipped a beat.
McGonagall's eyes met hers with an intensity that made her stomach churn. "Tell me, Hermione. You’re the only one who can tell. Which among the Hogwarts students is an alpha?"
"Why are you asking me that?" Hermione snapped, her words sharper than she intended, and both of them were taken aback by the force in her voice.
McGonagall paused, clearly startled, but she didn’t flinch. Her voice was calm but insistent. "The only one who can help you is an alpha, Hermione. Believe me, you are incredibly vulnerable during the height of your presentation. And if you are left unclaimed… it could be dangerous."
"No," Hermione whispered, shaking her head violently. "I don’t want this. I don’t want to be tied to someone I barely tolerate." The desperation in her voice was raw. She could feel the panic rising, threatening to choke her.
"T-there are other alphas we can found out there, more tolerable for you liking–"
"No," Hermione cut in, her voice trembling but resolute. "I refuse to let anyone—anyone—have that kind of control over me."
She felt her resolve falter as her thoughts turned to her future. How could she keep this hidden from her friends? How could she go about her daily life, excelling in her NEWTs, when her body was working against her in ways she couldn’t control?
McGonagall waited, giving her time to process. After a long silence, Hermione finally spoke. "I can’t stay here, Professor. Not like this."
McGonagall’s eyebrows knitted together. "What are you suggesting?"
"I’ll continue my education from home," Hermione said, her voice firmer now. "I can attend lessons remotely, submit assignments by owl or Floo, and take my exams here at the castle when the time comes. But I can’t… I can’t stay at Hogwarts. It’s too dangerous."
McGonagall frowned, clearly reluctant. "Hermione, I understand your reasoning, but are you certain this is the right choice? Isolation may only make this harder for you to manage."
"It’s the only choice I have," Hermione said, her voice tinged with desperation. "I need space to figure this out, to understand what’s happening to me without constantly worrying about losing control."
The Headmistress was quiet for a moment before she nodded solemnly. "Very well. I’ll arrange for your lessons to be delivered to you. And you’ll still have access to the library and any resources you need. But Hermione…" She paused, her expression softening. "If you ever need help—any help—you must promise to reach out."
Hermione nodded, her chest tightening with gratitude and sorrow. "Thank you, Professor. I’ll do my best to keep up."
As she left the office, a wave of relief washed over her. She wasn’t giving up on her education. She was simply taking control of her circumstances, doing what she needed to do to protect herself while still pursuing her goals.
Away from the constant presence of an alpha, she could think clearly and find a way to navigate this new reality. Hogwarts would always be her home, but for now, her path forward lay beyond its walls.