mathiilde_666
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Summary
She smells of old books and burning honey.
They smell of ownership.
And the moon is almost full.
A Dark A/B/O tale of obsession, pheromones, and a lioness who learns too late that some cages are built with teeth. -
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Summary
Hermione has spent the last two years trying, and failing, to find a pack of her own.
Will this latest pack be her happily ever after?
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No one could argue it wasn't a bit unconventional for an unmated omega to share her flat with an alpha. But Theo’s propensity for wandering into her bedroom uninvited aside, Hermione and Theo have a perfectly workable system in place. Hermione has her heats at the Ministry-run clinic. Theo sneaks off to his mate for his ruts. And their flat is blessedly sexless.
Correction. They had a perfectly workable system.
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All he could smell was her sweet cunt. Her sweet, Omega scent. His urgency all but forgotten, his wand arm limp, his jaw slackened, caught up in the smell of Hermione, Draco could not think; summer air in the countryside, rich with fragrance, flavour spilled over his tongue, down his throat.
Omega, she was an Omega. She had to be — Draco had gone on enough dates (forced by his mother, arranged by Pansy, set up by Blaise and Theo) with Beta witches, to know that there was no way to truly replicate an Omega’s scent. The perfumes, potions, essences, were overly sweet and chemically, artificial in a way that made him cringe, sneeze, and curse.
Draco ignored twenty years of knowledge and hard proof, allowed his blood to be infused with delirious hope.
or, Hermione has her first heat and Draco is sent by to perform a welfare check on her, after which, things spiral into filth.
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Summary
Hermione instinctively takes a step back. “What are you doing here, Malfoy?”
“It was you this whole time?” Rage deepens his voice. “Are you fucking kidding?”
“What?” Her head begins to feel light and woozy. The eucalyptus scent. It’s him. It’s Malfoy, not the old tenant.
Oh no. She raises her hands to cover her mouth and nose, her fingers cold and shaking.
“You’re not—”
“You can’t—”
They speak and stop at the same time. His lips thin and his pupils have blown his grey eyes to black. Neither makes a move to say anything again, instead measuring each other from the safety of their respective doorsteps.
It’s been years since she’s seen him, and it’s awful how good he looks. And smells.
Shit.
Shit, shit, shit. He’s an Alpha? And her neighbour? Gods, this can’t get any worse.
(THIS FIC IS ON OFFICIAL HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE)