Work Text:
PANSY
The Great Hall at Hogwarts had been modified to contain only a few chairs for the students instead of the long tables that were usually used for meals.
Only a fraction of the school's student body was present. Only the young people from all the houses who were about to turn 16, the age at which they would begin their transformation into Alphas, Omegas, or Betas.
Pansy sat in the middle rows of the room, surrounded by the other students from her house. Daphne Greengrass, to her right, was chatting listlessly with Theodore Nott about that morning's Charms class. It was well known that the boy had been trying to win the beautiful blonde's attention since their third year. To her left was Draco, Pansy's best friend and practically a brother, whispering loudly to Blaise Zabini. Amidst the conversation, Pansy caught the name "Potter," the words "the idiot's up to something," and a few others. She rolled her eyes in annoyance. All the Slytherins were certain that Draco had an unhealthy obsession with Potter, and there were already plenty of bets on when they would realize their romance, when their first kiss would happen, and even who would be the Alpha and who the Omega. Bonus prize if they were of the same biological sex or if one of them turned out to be a Beta, as that was quite rare. Ninety percent of the bets were that they would be soulmates.
Pansy's gaze wandered through the crowd until it landed on the group of Gryffindors a few rows ahead. The Weasel boy's red hair was easy to spot, and beside him, as always, was Scarhead along with the rest of the idiotic Griffons. But Pansy couldn't help noticing that someone was missing. It was strange; she never missed a class, much less one that, even if brief and without credits or grades, could dictate the rest of her life. She squinted, trying to see if she was missing something.
“Isn't that right, Pansy?
Blaise's voice forced Pansy to turn her gaze back to her friends at home.
“That?
“Most bets support that whatever the biology of the two, they will be together when they finish school.
Pansy chuckled, realizing what had triggered Draco's complaints.
"You're wrong," the girl replied.
"I told you, idiot. There's no way the people in our house are going to think I like them," Draco said.
"I mean," Pansy continued smugly, "the betting odds are on them getting together, they don't specify a timeframe. So our house knows you like him, but they think you're too foolish to accept it before you finish school."
Only when laughter erupted from the rest of the group did Pansy realize that everyone else had been paying attention to their conversation. She glanced around to meet the mocking stares of Daphne, Theo, Crabbe, and Goyle.
"You're all idiots for betting on my life," Draco complained, crossing his arms.
Although Pansy did not miss the slight blush that spread across her friend's pale cheeks.
The rest of the Slitheryns laughed even louder at Draco's tantrum.
"He was honest with you, buddy. The sooner you accept it, the more sex you'll get," Blaise mocked.
“Shut your mouth, Zabini.
Draco's cheeks turned almost as red as Weasel's hair, and the laughter of the others echoed off the walls of the Great Hall, including Pansy's.
“Silence!
Professor Snape's voice booming off the walls of the Great Hall snapped them out of their silly jokes. The angry glare the young Slytherins caught before they realized they were the loudest in the room made them shrink back in their seats. There was no better way to reprimand them than by having them feel the accusation of their own Head of House.
The room fell completely silent.
The only sounds that could be heard were the footsteps of the school nurse, Mrs. Pomfrey, advancing to the center of the teachers' podium.
"Thank you, Professor Snape," the woman said confidently before clearing her throat and beginning her speech. "Good morning, students. As you know, you have been summoned because you are all about to turn sixteen, the common age for your secondary biology to manifest. This involves considerable changes in your bodies and, above all, the revelation of what you will become from now on: whether you will be young alphas, omegas, or betas. Whatever your secondary biology, you will require different care, you will have different reactions to your peers with other biologies, and one of the school's priorities is to provide the necessary care. We must be aware of your biologies in order to provide the necessary suppressants, options, and care in each case, to avoid…" The old nurse paused, searching for the next part, "…unnecessary surprises. That is why, from now on, we will have extra staff in the infirmary, and any unusual symptoms you experience will be addressed immediately and discussed with the doctors."
Pansy chuckled, of course the school's priority was to keep its cycles under control to avoid chaos in a castle full of unruly teenagers.
The great dining hall went dark as Filch brought over a machine that reflected an intense light onto the windows behind the teachers' podium, and the next half hour was spent showing them magical slides about the physical changes they might undergo; some moved and others remained static for the students to analyze.
Everything was quite graphic and Pansy found it a little overwhelming.
She was the only heir born into her family, so she expected to become an alpha; it would be less of a problem for preserving the lineage and the family name. She never expected so much responsibility to fall on her shoulders. Her parents could no longer procreate, and she had never felt her responsibilities so acutely as they did now.
Looking at the stupid slides, all she could feel was pressure in her chest; she felt hot, exposed, and worried about what that revelation of her secondary biology might bring.
She'd always seen it as so far away, but it was here now, close by: the possibility of pleasing her parents or utterly disappointing them. It was fucking crazy that all of that rested on the shoulders of a girl who was almost 16. She couldn't decide, there was no way; she was trapped by whatever her own body decided, and it was so messed up that it might be hilarious at another time.
The slides kept advancing, but Pansy couldn't grasp them, couldn't read them, couldn't. She felt like her skin was burning, like she might explode at any moment.
How would she do this? What if she wasn't enough? What if she wasn't an alpha? What if she couldn't produce heirs? Would they reject her?
The world felt unreal. Too noisy yet still, too big yet small and oppressive, dense yet relaxed. There were strange smells, everything was too much, I wanted to run.
She stood up, not even knowing how she managed to do it so calmly. Perhaps it was the years of instruction in etiquette, in not being seen, in not dishonoring her family.
Before she knew it, she was rushing out of the Great Hall and turning towards the exit to the gardens. She needed air, she needed to breathe; it was all too overwhelming, and her vision was beginning to blur. The main gate appeared in front of her, like a desperate plea for freedom
… but then…
…a scent made her back down, stopping dead in her tracks a few meters from the door.
It smelled beautiful, delicious. It smelled of strawberries, books, parchment and ink… something else… sweet, intoxicating, and Pansy had to follow that scent.
Her steps carried her quickly, instinctively, away from the gardens. She didn't know what she was doing, because the scent drew her in like gravity itself, and it was so hard to keep her composure, so hard not to run like a madwoman in its direction. But there it was, present, and it needed her too. It was calling her; she had to go.
HERMIONE
The corridors were almost empty at that hour. It was close to curfew, and she had promised to walk Harry and Ron back to the common room after their introductory class.
She had already taken the class and understood the underlying changes because she was a year older than them. Her birthday was in September, so she had expected to receive the lecture before the end of her fourth year; however, as with her studies, her biology class also took precedence and was presented at the beginning of June.
It was difficult to adjust, especially with hormones running rampant in the castle due to the extra guests on the school premises because of the Triwizard Tournament.
Especially with Krum practically claiming her as his own. The Hungarian player was so possessive in the end that Hermione had to remind him countless times that they weren't a couple, they weren't together anymore, and she wasn't interested in that.
Instead, she felt a strange attraction to the pretty French alphas. But they confidence wavered when she remembered how difficult it had been for his two friends to get the attention of attractive girls and invite them to the Christmas dance.
Since her secondary biology told her last year that she was an omega, that she should be submissive, compliant, and relegated to the desires of an alpha, she had no interest in continuing with it. She didn't want to be just the second part of that whole, she didn't want to be belittled.
Who would have thought it? And how humiliating it would be if the intelligent Hermione Granger, the most outstanding witch of her generation—a nickname she disliked intensely—were treated like a submissive omega. That she should refrain from speaking out and lower her head, wasting her potential to please a stupid alpha. She would never do that.
Fortunately, she had never felt that need, although the suppressants provided by the school helped; she still had desires for the alphas around her. Diminished desires, almost imperceptible, but they were there. She felt them; it was her biology, she had to feel them. But she could control them.
She walked through the corridors, knowing that no one would stop her; she had permission.
And then she felt it, she smelled it. It entered her nostrils, as strong as a punch to the chest, as intense as a wave engulfing her entire being.
The most wonderful scent she had ever smelled. She stopped in the middle of the hallway.
The smell was getting closer, growing more intense and maddening. A shadow appeared around the next corner; there it was, enveloping her, holding her in place as if her shoes were glued to the ground.
The figure appeared at the end of the corridor. He could make out short, shoulder-length hair and an almost supernatural green gleam in her eyes—hungry. It was a girl. Why wasn't she surprised?
For a few seconds, only rapid breathing could be heard in the deserted, dark corridor. The other girl seemed to grunt softly and took a hesitant step toward Hermione.
"Alpha," Hermione sighed. She hadn't even thought about it and almost choked when she heard her hoarse voice; it wasn't like her at all.
"Granger," the other voice sounded equally hoarse and surprised at the same time.
"Parkinson?" she was surprised to realize that the unbearable smell was coming from her sworn enemy, the girl who had said so many bad things about her and insulted her more than anyone else the previous year.
A wave of annoyance swept over Hermione. She stared at the floor, her fists clenched in fury at the fact that Parkinson's scent was what made her feel this way—so needy, so desperate to get closer to the alpha.
Parkinson grunted, low, but she heard him. Clearly, almost in her gut. Hermione looked up in surprise to realize that the girl was only a few steps away from her.
“Don't do that.
Parkinson's gaze seemed even more intense at that distance, and the scent. By Merlin! The scent was intoxicating, powerful, and refreshing, like a breeze on your face as high waves crash against the rocks on the shore during a sunset filled with flashes of red and blue. But it was also delicate and intense, like lying on the grass in the middle of a garden, like touching the delicate petal of a flower in spring. This was Parkinson.
"Do what?" the voice was broken, but curious.
Parkinson closed her eyes and pressed her lips tightly together, as if something hurt him.
“That smell... change... is... annoying. Don't do it.
Hermione was surprised and her eyes widened. Her scent, her omega, annoyed with the girl in front of her, was repelling Ruth Parkinson's pheromones, and her alpha was bothered by this rejection.
Parkinson's breathing became more fast, her lips parted in a frustrated growl, and from that distance she could see the alpha's prominent, sharp fangs. A feeling of desire settled in her lower belly; she wanted… she wanted… Hermione shook the thoughts away and tried to compose herself.
"You should..." she sighed, swallowing hard. "Go to the infirmary. Didn't you take your suppressants?"
It wasn't a necessary question; it was obvious she hadn't done it, although her mind didn't seem so clouded and irrational; her strong scent of Rut could be perceived from miles away.
“ My what?
Parkinson seemed startled for a moment; her eyes lost their sparkle. She seemed to realize something. She looked down at herself, as if for the first time she'd become aware of her own existence, and finally her hands went to her face. She seemed overwhelmed, and felt her fangs. Even more surprised, if that was possible. She looked back into Hermione's eyes.
“I am an alpha.
She finally spoke, as if she couldn't believe it, and then something else settled in her eyes: recognition, and then, little by little, surprise. Regret.
“You're an omega.
And Hermione finally understood. The girl had walked into her first Ruth right in the middle of the introductory lecture and had just become aware of her symptoms, had just discovered her own secondary biology. Hermione immediately picked up on the alpha's pheromones of frustration and repression. The rejection. Parkinson took a step back…
Hermione's omega looked dejected, ears pinned back, shy.
“I… must.
Parkinson started walking again in the direction of Hermione, raising her hands slightly as a sign of caution.
“Nursing.
The dark-haired girl nodded, and Hermione couldn't stay there any longer. She hurried down the corridor. She didn't want to look back, but something betrayed her. She couldn't help but turn around when she reached the end of the corridor. Pansy was still there, standing and watching her… the glint in her eyes had returned, not as intense, but it was there. Her scent. There was still uncertainty, she hesitated. But there was something else too. Desire.
Hermione's omega gave a small smile. Finally, she continued on her way. Satisfied.