This piece was written for The Harmony Shag-A-Thon, hosted by the Facebook group, Harmony & Co. All canon characters, plots, dialogue, and situations from the Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work.

Thank you to Elle Morgan-Black for helping me through messages to discover what I wanted to write.

Thank you AirplaneFoodBlackMarket for betaing.

Warnings: A/B/O. If that is not your thing, I don't want you to get farther than this. There is a moment where another male character attempts to force himself on Hermione as she presents.

I am staggering updates, so there will be an update today and one each for the next two days and then it will be completed! I would appreciate any reviews and attention you would like to give.

Chapter One:

Hermione knew Harry and Ron would not have returned to Hogwarts if it weren't for her. There was something to be said that even Ginny's pleading hadn't changed Harry's mind of going straight into Auror training, but Hermione's had.

Both boys stood on either side of her as they waited on the platform for the Hogwarts Express. Truthfully, she'd thought that the sight of the familiar scarlet train would calm her nerves, but it didn't. None of them had seen the castle since the day of May 2nd, and really, the thought of setting foot in the Great Hall made her stomach turn.

"Hermione?" Harry asked quietly, his finger brushing against the inside of her palm. "Are you okay?"

Ron glanced at her, his brows drawing together, and he took her hand into his. As any good boyfriend should, Hermione reminded herself.

She schooled her features and nodded, a fake smile gracing her face. "There's a sense of nostalgia being here," she said, flinching at the sound of the engine while the train wheezed to a stop in front of them.

On the platform, there must have been a record low for students returning for another term. The news had been all over the Prophet, how some families would be sending their children to other Wizarding schools, and she realized that there might not be any other muggleborns attending that year. So many records inside of the Ministry had been destroyed amidst Voldemort's short, but terrifying reign.

And if there had been any muggleborns to attend… she wondered if their parents had heard what occurred over the last several years. If her parents were in the position, they would have taken Hermione home as quickly as they could, fear bright in their eyes and hearts in their throats.

If her parents remembered they had a daughter, they would have done exactly that, even now. Unfortunately, they would never remember her now. The toll of memory modification was too great, and mind healers had given her the terrible news a week after the final battle.

"Mione," Harry hissed in her ear, squeezing her shoulder.

"What?" she muttered, coming out of her head to see Ron had gone to join his family. Molly had her arms thrown tightly around his shoulders, tears already slipping down her face.

Only his parents and Ginny were there. George would be locked away in the room he had shared with his twin. Bill and Charlie returned to Shell Cottage and Romania respectively at the end of the summer, and as far as Hermione knew, Percy was working himself near to death in the Ministry to prove himself.

"You're spacing out. Are you sure you're okay?" Harry asked her. His grip slipped from her shoulder as Ginny made her way toward them with a bright smile.

Hermione swallowed, not completely sure what was wrong. She'd known for months that her parents would never know her, and she'd known for months that returning to Hogwarts would be either therapeutic or traumatic-a flip of a galleon as it was. So she went for the first thing that came to mind. "I'm just expecting my parents to appear to wish me a good term."

Harry's eyes widened behind the wire frames of his glasses before they softened. "I'm sorry," he murmured. Before he could say another word, Ginny slammed into him. They were a sight for anyone on the platform, students, parents, and especially Rita Skeeter.

One could only assume she was penning an article on the return to Hogwarts, and Skeeter haunted Ron, Hermione, and Harry like a shadow.

"I missed you." Ginny squealed, squeezing Harry tightly once he caught her.

Hermione nodded to him, moving away from the couple. She didn't want to interrupt a private moment. Harry mouthed to her that he would see her on the train, and Hermione turned away.

Hermione tucked herself away on the train in an abandoned compartment. Warding the door so no one would walk in, she set her prefect pin on the table and flipped open a novel. And so the train ride went. Outside the train door, she'd heard Ron's voice asking where his girlfriend had gone, followed by an equally familiar sneer voicing the opinion that maybe she'd had her fill with Weasley.

She sighed at Malfoy's intrusion, completely unsurprised. The blonde was still a prick, had been even following his trial where she'd stood in his defence with Harry. While Draco Malfoy would never be a friend, he had apologized for his behaviour regarding blood superiority in the corridor outside of the Wizengamot. Suffice to say, he would not call her a mudblood ever again, but he would still take digs at her hair and overall swottiness.

She could live with that.

It wasn't until the feast in the Great Hall that Hermione reunited with her friends, sitting between Harry and Ron as she had nearly every year. Neville smiled from his seat in front of her as he sipped his pumpkin juice. Ginny was whispering to Harry, gripping his hand tightly beneath the table, but Harry's hand was merely resting in her grip.

It was strange, considering they hadn't been able to keep their hands to themselves after the war.

Headmistress McGonagall stood at the podium, clearing her throat. That was all it took to quiet the hall. She looked over the students, fondly glancing at her own house before nodding to the others. Her grimace at the lacklustre turn out of the Slytherin house was mostly missed.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts, or, if this is your first year, welcome to Hogwarts," she spoke, adjusting the brim of her black hat. Behind her sat the Sorting Hat, perched on a stool. "We will begin the sorting ceremony shortly, but before we do, I have an announcement." The crowd of students rippled, and whispers began to circulate throughout the hall.

"What do you think it is?" Ron asked, none too quietly.

Harry shrugged. His time being in the loop was over when it came to the Heads of Hogwarts.

"If you would be quiet, you might find out!" Hermione snapped.

Ron pulled his hand from where it rested on her enrobed thigh and scowled.

"Typically, this is discussed in your seventh year, but due to the war, it wasn't possible." Immediately, Hermione's attention was piqued. Whatever the announcement was, it didn't sound like it was something she would have uncovered in books. "It has come to my attention from the healers of St Mungo's that maturation was delayed last year —" there were several groans throughout the hall, including Ron right beside her — "don't presume you know what I'm about to say." Headmistress McGonagall's eyes narrowed.

"All eighth years and seventh years are to report to their Heads of House at eight o'clock sharp tomorrow morning. Your morning classes will be cancelled. If you're in Gryffindor, you will come to me in the Transfiguration classroom."

Hermione found she wasn't able to focus throughout the rest of the feast.

To say that she was livid would have been putting it mildly.

"This is bullshite!" Hermione snapped. She'd knocked her chair over from standing up so quickly. The entire room fell silent as she did not break eye contact with her former professor. "Headmistress, this is —"

"Miss Granger, I understand that you're upset, but this is no way to behave. You know more than anyone that lashing out is not proper behaviour for a prefect."

Yes, of course, she knew that. Hermione exhaled a deep breath, calmly removing the red pin that she had painstakingly fastened to her robes an hour earlier. "I apologize for yelling, Headmistress McGonagall."

"Very well. Now that we've ripped the - Miss Granger?" she broke off, her eyes widening as Hermione laid the pin on the table in front of her. "Am I correct in my understanding?"

Hermione wouldn't cry. She'd been through far too much over the last year for this to do her in. "I would rather snap my own wand than be mounted on another bloody hierarchy." her voice was level, calm, and she could feel several stares burning into her back. It wasn't rational to sweep out of the classroom as she did, but what she was hearing was the furthest thing from rational.

She stormed down the corridor without a mind of where to go. Already, regret took over. To say she would snap her wand was no joking matter, and she couldn't stand to be called a hypocrite either. Ducking into a darkened alcove, she slid to the stone floor and brought her knees to her chest.

Never - not once in all her years in Hogwarts had she lashed out at a professor. Well, admittedly she had set Professor Snape on fire - a wonderful tidbit of information that had once made Sirius Black bow at her feet.

"You're not very good at hiding spots." Harry stepped into the alcove with her, coming to sit at her side. He picked up her hand and pressed the shiny pin into her palm. "McGonagall asked me to come after you."

She nodded. "I thought she would have sent Ron."

Harry plucked his glasses from his face, cleaning the lenses on his robes. "I think she considered it, but she told him to put his bum back in his chair when he tried to chase you."

"I'm sure he took that well." Hermione fidgeted, picking at her fingernails. "As much as I hate it, I wasn't just saying I would snap my wand. To learn that there's more to this than just purebloods, half-bloods, and mudbloods —"

He cut her off fiercely. "I don't want to ever hear you refer to yourself that way again." His shoulder pressed against hers. "Mione, I understand why you're angry. You don't know if you'll be at the bottom, maybe, that's not what matters here, is it?"

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not angry if I'm at the bottom. I'm angry I'm on it at all. Why do we need to be put in these neat little boxes?"

Harry sighed, snaking an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into him. Resting his chin on her head, he murmured, "I don't have an answer for that."

Her eyes stung with tears. "I don't want to be anything other than Hermione, a witch. I don't want to be an Alpha, Beta, or Omega." She didn't voice how she had everything to protest with the last designation. "She says that Omegas shouldn't be thought of as the bottom rung on the ladder, Harry."

"They're prized," he sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "You're worried you'll be considered as a possession. Hermione, Ron and I would never let someone treat you like that."

There was a quiet hiccup in the small, enclosed space. "Fuck, this is madness."

He combed through her curls the best he could, as messy as they were. "I agree, but you can't snap your wand. I wouldn't survive a week without you."

She snorted, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hands. "As long as another Dark Lord doesn't rise, you'll be okay."

"Well," he sighed, "I am entering auror training at the end of the year. You never know. Plus, you realize I would miss you terribly?"

It felt as if something twitched inside her chest, like a taut string being drawn back and released. Hermione peered up at him. "Your lens is cracked," she rasped, her throat dry.

"Ron stepped on them this morning. I was only able to repair one side before rushing to the meeting." Harry grinned as she gently slid them off his face.

Hermione pulled her wand from her sleeve, pointing to where the glasses rested on the solid floor. "Repairo." The crack vanished, and only after she'd placed them back on his face did she stop to think she should have just handed them back to him. "I won't snap my wand," she muttered, looking away.

Hermione wasn't willing to admit out loud she felt she'd overreacted. The information that had been dropped on her still felt like a heavy weight to bear.

He smirked. "Good girl."

If she hadn't run from the meeting, she would have known then what the tingle up her spine meant.