Chapter Text
“It’s not Death Eater erotica,” she insists, grabbing the novel from Lavender’s eager hands, and slamming it back into her bookshelf.
The table is set for their tea, and Hermione pretends to busy herself charming platters from the kitchen. A vase of burgundy anemones bloom under the weight of her spellwork.
“Hermione,” her friend sighs, “your last male protagonist was a masked vigilante who kidnapped the heroine from a safe house.”
She tuts. Ginny isn’t incorrect, but the tone of the book makes all the difference. “I would argue they rescued each other. You’re taking away Harriet’s agency.”
“Yes.” Ginny rolls her eyes. “Agency is exactly what I considered as he fucked her against a bookshelf.”
“It was her fantasy,” Hermione insists. “So why shouldn’t she be able to control some things? Hmm?”
“Oh, here we go,” Ginny laughs, as she falls into the seat beside her.
“Please, Hermione, be so for real,” Parvati begs.
“I have a niche market,” she explains. “Also, just because my heroines have certain proclivities does not mean I endorse or desire them.” The tea cup rattles in her saucer. The scone smattered with clotted cream is a nice distraction until she can swallow down a full bite, and process her thoughts. “I happen to enjoy tackling risque themes in my books.”
These weekly teas with her friends used to center around the group in equal measure. Lately, she’s found herself the overwhelming topic of discussion. It’s not that they're not entirely supportive of her chosen profession, but opinions fly freely, and Hermione is tired of entertaining them.
Writing was her escape after the war. She relished the ability to lose herself in the works of others. Immerse completely in a new world, and put herself in the character’s shoes. It wasn’t until Hogwarts’ Muggle Studies professor asked her to write a fictionalised short story in Eighth Year that she found an entire new use for her brain. Overactive since childhood, she could make scenarios as absurd as she wanted. Dangerous, sexy, unsuitable. The worlds were whatever she made them. There was safety in that. Exploration of desires that she didn’t have to act on. Knowns, in an unknown world.
Especially when other challenges presented themselves after she left the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.
“Didn’t you write a book that featured Muggles?” Hannah asks, filling her cup, and passing the milk.
“I did,” Hermione says testily.
“An older professor at a prestigious university and a student.” Ginny mumbles.
“I read it,” Padma raises her hand. “Hermione, tell us again how you never had a crush on Lockhart.’
Hermione’s head hits the table with a soft thud.
“You’re not helpful,” she says, muffled against the smooth wood.
“What’s this next one about then?” Lavender asks, rubbing her shoulders softly, until Hermione peeks up at her friends.
“It’s set at a magical boarding school. I’d like the male lead to be a Pureblood. I want him to feel cunning. Charming, even.”
“That would be nice,” Ginny agrees.
“It would. I am overwhelmed with research on the type of school I’d like to portray, I’ve had no time to look into anything else. Customs, and the like. Courting for instance. It’s just a blank space.”
She shrugs Lavender's hand from her shoulder, crossing to the window and nudging it open just a bit further. It’s hot in her flat. Jumper fibres feel itchy and uncomfortable against her skin. She’s felt like this for days. Earlier that morning she was so on edge she checked the dosage on her suppressant potions twice. Their potency was correct, and she wasn’t due to begin a new round for a few days now, Saturday morning, if she remembered correctly.
She took her suppressant potions habitually. A practice she perfected that June after leaving Scotland, and she hasn’t missed a monthly dose in ten years. They are stronger than market dosage—she makes sure of it—formulates and brews them for her unique physiology.
It’s not that she’s never been tempted by the presence of others. She has, but it’s completely under control.
They called it a symptom of the war. There had to be a price for the amount of magic expended there. Dark, light, ancient, experimental. It all hung in the air, and in their presence long after the dust and rubble cleared from the battle. Some of them walked away changed. She’d been one of them.
Discussions about designations died down. Wizards and witches moved on with their lives. Suppressants became available at apothecaries around London. It simply wasn’t discussed in polite society. Aurors were sometimes called for cases where urges got out of hand. They were rare, and Harry and Ron barely mentioned them over dinners anymore. Ginny was the only one who knew—something Hermione guarded amongst her darkest secrets. She’d felt shame enough in her life to know that hiding it was just easier. She could stay a party of one—well controlled—barely an inconvenience.
The words alpha and omega were banished from her extensive vocabulary. She created worlds, and in her own mind, she decided that it was simply a non-issue. Never defined by it, and certainly not held back because of it. No one had to know.
The flat is warmer than usual with all her friends gathered here. Maybe it was the third cup of tea. The criticisms, even small, and unintended, seem to hit even harder today. She’s had great success publishing in both the magical and Muggle worlds. This new manuscript shouldn’t be that hard to crack. Writer’s block was another string of words she refused to acknowledge at present.
“Hermione?” Lavender asks gently.
“What?” she barks, more sensitive than she intended.
“You’ve been staring into the middle distance. Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m fine,” she exclaims. “Absolutely fine. Better than. In fact, if I get stuck, I can always pivot the plot to be mundane. Muggles happen to love my books.” It’s met by looks, both worried, and placating.
“Maybe it’s time to call in your Editor?” Padma suggests.
“Too early to send her anything. I need someone to review my ideas with. Brainstorm, and the like.”
“Hermione, just ask for some help. Message Neville.” Ginny loads two additional biscuits onto the pile on her plate.
“He’s not really the type I’m looking for in this one. Too, too—”
“What?”
“I actually can't find one disparaging word to describe him,” she smirks. “Our dear, Neville. He’s just not right. I need someone brattish. He can’t get his way, but he wants to.”
“Mmm,” Lavender hums. “Ask for an Alpha on Wizzit.”
Hermione’s head shoots up, an insistent blush creeping up her neck, and taking residence across her cheeks.
“What?”
That word. World altering, throat closing, she can’t.
“Wizzit,” Lavender explains. “It’s an online messaging board; George and Lee charmed it from Muggle technology. Works right on our mobiles. I can’t believe you’ve never used it.”
Her breathing starts to regulate, and she can feel Ginny’s hand find hers under the table.
“Yea, Hermione. Find an Alpha,” she whispers. Fingers squeeze in jest, and Hermione could hex her.
“Shut up,” she hushes her. “I told you that in confidence.”
“Told her what?” Padma raises an eyebrow.
“Oh,” Hermione snatches back her hand, fluffing her curls off her shoulder. “I’ve never used an alpha reader before. I like to keep my manuscripts top secret until I’m forced to share them.”
“‘I’ve used extra eyes on my medical journal entries," Padma brightens. “It’s no big deal.”
“Someone looks over my articles at Witch Weekly too,” Lavender agrees.
“I have this under control.” The tone of her voice indicates otherwise.
“Careful,” Ginny tuts, “you sound defensive.” It’s low enough that only Hermione hears.
When is a reasonable time to kick them all out of her flat?
“Fine,” she relents. “I’ll try the message board thingy.”
“You’ll love it.”
Sure, Hermione approximates a grin, but the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She also pulls at her jumper neck until she’s able to blow cool air down her decolletage.
“You seem, erm, off today?” Padma offers, reaching across the table. “Your hands are on fire. Are you ill?”
“No,” she insists, pulling back. “No, nothing like that. Just diverted.”
“Preoccupied?” Lavender adds.
“Oblivious, maybe?” Ginny quips, and Hermione hits her with a discreet slapping jinx.
“I need a martini.”
“It’s half two in the afternoon.”
Hermione levels her friend a look, and gin is summoned from the ice box.
“You’re right. What was I thinking?”
***
Three martinis and half the afternoon passes by in a blink. The girls leave, and Hermione nestles herself into the corner cushions of the sofa. Layers have been shrugged, and her hair is tied up in a knot held in place by two chopsticks from the previous night’s take-away.
Her kitchen and sitting area are a mess, and she’s found it hard to summon the will to tidy them. Too flummoxed to plot, or accomplish meaningful writing of any kind, she considers Lavender’s suggestion.
“How hard can it be?” she mutters, summoning her mobile from her purse.
The message board is easy enough to charm onto the device. They have conversations, and a database for potion ingredients and spells. It’s quite useful to have at her fingertips. No wonder they were raving about it.
Scrolling through some of the topics, she gets a general idea of the concept. She begins a profile. “H-e-r–” she stops, realising that she hasn’t recognised any of the pseudonyms. “Hmm, how about–”
With her profile in place, she finds a popular channel for the topic she needs, and starts to type.
There, she thinks. That wasn’t so hard.
Hermione decides that nothing good can come by waiting anxiously for someone to respond in the chat. She tidies the mess from the tea, and the one from cocktails, touching each glass by hand as a grounding exercise. The tub takes forever to fill, but she slips in, luxuriating in the water that matches the infernal heat radiating off her body. Muscles relax, and while her brain still feels a touch hazy, she’s more unburdened than she’s felt all day.
Wrapped in her favourite Demisguise robe, fibres sourced ethically, and light against her burning skin, she turns over her mobile to a slew of responses.
Hermione feels an anticipatory rush as the interested party’s name appears in a new section of her Wizzit app.
Incoming Message from DarkPedagogue (1)
{ALT TEXT}
r/AlphasandBetas
u/Quillsandcurls
In Search of an Alpha
This is my first time asking for an Alpha. Normally, I can get the job done myself. This has been a rough patch—one I can no longer tackle alone.
I have ideas, theories, and the time. I’m missing pieces of the puzzle I know an Alpha can help fill.
I’m still very new to asking for help, and I’m not sure if this is the proper etiquette. I have a particularly big issue I need nailed down immediately.
No Betas please. I really need it to be someone I can get into the nittygritty with. Explore all the angles. Someone to push me.
I’m not looking for a long-term partner, but I need someone who can come in and get the job done. Discretion is important.
u/SlitherIn_96 * 1 hr ago
You should list your age. No self-respecting Alpha is going to get close to you without knowing that.
u/Quillsandcurls * now
I hardly see how that is relevant.
u/ChudleyChum * 55m ago
I don’t see why you’re discounting Betas right away. I’m a talented wizard, I’ll have you know.
u/Quillsandcurls * now
Noted. The issue being, I need a talented Alpha. It’s not quite the same, is it?
u/RockCakeDaddy * 44m ago
Does size matter to ya?
u/Quillsandcurls * now
Of your current workload? Not particularly. I can fit myself around a tight schedule.
u/Ravenandraving * 22m ago
The Snake is right. You need to share some details so we know what we’re in for.
u/Quillsandcurls * now
I suppose that’s fair enough. To be honest, I’m actually wondering if anyone here is a Pureblood? That would satisfy a particular need I have. Not required, but certainly helpful.
u/Wizard4u69 * 5m ago
Do you usually finish? How messy is it?
u/Quillsandcurls * 4m ago
I wouldn’t call my process messy at all. I know how to do a job to completion.
u/DarkPedagogue * now
You don’t have to answer these invasive questions.
u/DarkPedagogue * 1m ago
If this is, in fact, a serious inquiry, I may be able to help. If you’re open to a direct message, let me know, and we can move forward.
u/Quillsandcurls * now
Why would anyone think I’m not serious? I’ll await your message.
Hermione feels an anticipatory rush as the interested party’s name appears in a new section of her Wizzit app.
Incoming Message from DarkPedagogue (1)
DarkPedagogue: You appear to be brand new to the Wizzit platform. It can be a bit tricky to navigate at first. Dealing with trolls is a large problem.
Quillsandcurls: There are trolls on here?
DarkPedagogue: Ah, um, no. Not actual trolls. It's a term for users who needlessly instigate.
Quillsandcurls: I see. I suppose I still have much to learn. I don’t mind being new to something.
DarkPedagogue: That’s good. I find myself naturally inclined to teaching, so this may work out.
DarkPedagogue: So, as your post title suggests, you’re in search of an Alpha? Expeditiously, it would seem.
Quillsandcurls: That is correct.
DarkPedagogue: You’ve never used an Alpha before?
Quillsandcurls: I’ve never been stuck like this before.
Quillsandcurls: Well, in truth, I’ve been fairly consumed with my work for the last several years. I tend to get that way. I’ve been called tunnel-visioned.
Quillsandcurls: I don’t mind asking for help, but I’ve come to find everyone seems to have known I’ve needed it long before I do.
DarkPedagogue: You haven’t been caring for yourself?
Quillsandcurls: Oh, well, I try to. When I get deep into my work other things fall by the wayside.
DarkPedagogue: You sound very driven.
Quillsandcurls: I am
DarkPedagogue: I can be as well.
DarkPedagogue: Why the request for a Pureblood? If I may ask? What difference does it make?
Quillsandcurls: I don’t harbour any blood prejudices, if that’s what you’re worried about.
Quillsandcurls: I’m an equal opportunist to share and collaborate.
DarkPedagogue: How lucky for me. Still doesn’t answer my question.
Quillsandcurls: Forgive me if I seem hesitant to share more. I’m a fairly private person. This is a big leap of faith for me.
DarkPedagogue: I understand. You have no idea if we’ll suit. I appreciate you being cautious.
DarkPedagogue: I can share a little bit more about myself, if that’s helpful.
Quillsandcurls: Yes, absolutely.
DarkPedagogue: Well, I am a Pureblood. I work full-time, but my specialty allows me free periods to explore other hobbies. At the moment I am geographically locked into a specific area, but that won’t always be the case. I have flex-time in the summers should this arrangement prove beneficial, and we'd like to continue.
Quillsandcurls: Have you been an Alpha for someone before?
DarkPedagogue: I have. I was in a contractual arrangement for some time. It was exclusive, and we wanted it to work. The relationship ultimately ran its course.
Quillsandcurls: This helps a great deal.
Quillsandcurls: How would you like to proceed? I’m counting on you to take the lead a little.
DarkPedagogue: That’s how I prefer it.
DarkPedagogue: I think the best next step is to meet in person, get a sense of one another. I think we’ll know right away if this arrangement has the potential to work out.
Quillsandcurls: That makes sense, I suppose. I am feeling pretty desperate to get started.
DarkPedagogue: Right. I have no doubt I’ll agree.
Quillsandcurls: Are you based in London?
DarkPedagogue: Scotland, actually.
DarkPedagogue: Are you familiar with the village of Hogsmeade?
Quillsandcurls: Intimately
Quillsandcurls: Would you be opposed to The Three Broomsticks? I haven’t been in ages.
DarkPedagogue: That should work nicely.
Quillsandcurls: Excellent. I’m busy the next two nights. That’s a shame, because I’m eager to get started.
DarkPedagogue: You seem keen.
Quillsandcurls: How about Friday night?
DarkPedagogue: I can do that.
Quillsandcurls: How will I know you?
DarkPedagogue: I’ll be wearing an obnoxiously overt green scarf.
Quillsandcurls: Sounds perfect, Alpha
Five minutes later
DarkPedagogue: You’re already better than you think.
DarkPedagogue: Looking forward to Friday.
Quillsandcurls: Me too