Disclaimer: I neither own Harry Potter nor Supernatural. I am just a mere seventeen-year-old who loves both of them so much :)
A/N: Hello! Here's the promised sequel of "Trench-Coated Angel". I would like to thank all those who read it (most especially to those who took their time and gave me their reviews). I know Hermione/Castiel is such a rare pairing, but you still gave it a chance.
It was a struggle to write this fic, seeing that Hermione doesn't remember anything and Castiel is, well, crazy, but I tried my best.
Please review afterwards! Enjoy!
Title: Remembering the Past
Author: WickedlyAwesomeMe
Language: English
Form: One-Shot
Genre: Romance/Drama
Rating: T, just to be safe
Warning: Cussing and innuendos, I think
Crossover: Harry Potter/Supernatural
Pairing: Castiel/Hermione Granger
Summary: She had no recollection of anything that happened to her two years ago. As two familiar boys introduced themselves as Sam and Dean Winchester, Hermione Granger reckoned she will finally have the answers she had been looking for. Sequel of "Trench-Coated Angel". HP/SPN crossover. Hermione Granger/Castiel.
Remembering the Past by WickedlyAwesomeMe
The brunette then meandered through the scattered books on the floor and plopped down on a miraculously neat couch. She tightened her blanket around her shoulders and leaned her head against the backrest, expelling a soft sigh of contentment.
She then closed her eyes and smiled when a rustle of wind and wings reached her ears.
"I didn't call for you," she whispered, cracking one eye open. He stood quietly at the opposite of the room, with his head tilted and his brows furrowed deeply.
"You were loudly calling for me in your mind, Hermione," he simply said.
The brunette completely opened her eyes and gave him a full-blown smile. "Guilty," she said. When he continued to curiously look at her, she sighed, knowing quite well that the angel was starting to get a little impatient. "I had a nightmare," she explained. "And I needed a friend, Angel Boy."
"HERMIONE!"
The brunette jerked awake and frantically looked around. Kingsley Shacklebolt stood in front of her desk and stared at her with that disproving and scarily stern look on his face.
Sheepishly, she straightened up and patted her voluminous hair. "Auror Shacklebolt," she greeted, trying to school her emotions. "What brings you here?"
Gradually, Kingsley's face softened into a concerned one. He eyed the twenty-seven-year-old witch warily and sighed. "Is something the matter now, Hermione?" he asked, inviting himself to sit on one of her chairs in her office.
She bit her bottom lip. "I'm quite all right," she smoothly lied.
The older wizard shook his head, amused by her obvious lie. "I'm talking to you as a friend now, not as your superior," he said. "You are, without any doubt, one of our most valuable Aurors in the Ministry of Magic. You proved to be vigilant, yet sly. I can even say that your magic prowess can already be levelled with some of the best witches and wizards in the history of the Wizarding World." He did not skip a beat when she blushed. "But, I honestly think that you need a break now, Hermione. Perhaps, a vacation. After all, stress is one evil, incorrigible thing."
Hermione sighed and rubbed her face in exhaustion. "Kingsley, really, I'm all right," she assured him. The brunette raised a hand to stop him from interjecting. "It is up to me whether to decide for a vacation or not, don't you think?" she asked.
Kingsley sighed in defeat. "Well, if you say so," he said, now slowly standing up from his seat. "But, if… this continues, then I will be forced to give you one. I still want the people under me to work competently." He then gave her a farewell smile before turning around and leaving her office.
Once he was gone, Hermione's forehead connected with her wooden desk. 'What the hell is happening to me?' she softly moaned to herself, blindly standing up from her chair to make herself a coffee.
She had another strange dream she could not understand. The worst thing about those dreams, though, was the fact that she kept on seeing recurring faces that she had never even seen before. Upon waking up, she would quickly forget their faces. Such a frustrating thing gave her sleepless nights and caffeine-induced actions – things that never mixed well with her work.
She was getting sloppier and she knew it. Just two days ago, she almost killed herself by letting a darned, wild hippogriff lose when her job was to simply look after it. After an hour of sermon from Shacklebolt, Hermione went home for the day, fell asleep almost immediately, only to wake up with yet another bizarre dream with trench coats and blue eyes.
These dreams started a few months ago, replacing her Second War-filled dreams. Hermione still could not choose which dream was better than the other. Nonetheless, both themes still drove her insane.
Of course, she tried to go to St. Mungo's for her condition. Call her paranoid, but she had this hunch that repeating dreams already meant something different than just a mere… well, dream. One of the healers, a well-renowned one, claimed that perhaps it was connected with the strange fact that she could not remember anything at all that had happened to her two years ago.
She thought that by the time she got home after a meeting with the Aurors that everything was still in place. Imagine her surprise when she strolled into the Ministry of Magic the next day, with people around her ogling at her like she was some ghost.
It turned out she had been missing for a year and people believed of her as dead. Her parents were ecstatic for her miraculous return and immediately brought her to St. Mungo's. After a series of tests, the healers concluded that nothing was wrong with her.
Save from the fact that, of course, she could not remember anything that had happened to her for the whole year.
Hermione was bothered by this for the following months. Healers tried to help her regain her memory but it was always futile. They think that something powerful had done this to her and not even their most advanced healing spells could heal her.
Thus, the brunette gave up any hope of remembering anything. She continued her work as an Auror in the Ministry of Magic. Soon, her life was back to normal.
There were times, though, when she would feel that something was missing with her life. That something did not feel… right. She knew she was supposed to remember something important, but her mind always stopped her from remembering. All that she got from those times of forced remembering was a humongous headache and a foul mood.
The dreams started after her twenty-seventh birthday. At first, everything was so hazy. She would always see swirls of colors and hear bursts of sounds. There were voices, painstakingly familiar ones, and actions that she swore she had witnessed already.
As months passed, the dreams turned more vivid as if she was… there. There were faces now, but she always forgot what they looked like once she woke up. She could pick up some things now, though. She could remember this particular car that after some research, she discovered was a 1967 Chevy Impala. She remembered a laptop, the word "Idjit" ('Seriously, who curses like that?"), a trench coat, and startling blue eyes that always made her heart ache in emptiness.
She tried to ignore them at first, but, seeing how her current state was, it was proven in vain.
A headache started to form in her mind once again and she sighed. She was utterly thankful it was the end of office hours; she'd be damned if she had another mission to do.
Hermione then drank the last visages of her coffee before grabbing her purse. She bid some of her colleagues goodbye before Flooing back to her apartment.
Upon arriving, she did not bother changing into her clothes. Hermione proceeded to plop down on her couch and allowed sleep to cloud her consciousness.
"You son of a bitch," the man with the leather jacket drawled, stupidly firing his gun. Like what had happened before, it had no effect on the boggart. "You son of a bitch. I am going to kill you, you hear me?"
"For heaven's sake!" Hermione cried, pushing him away. He missed a shot and fired a bullet through the attic window. It shattered loudly, surprising him, who also toppled away and landed on his stomach, falling unconscious. The other tall man in the room quickly scrambled to the unconscious leather jacket man and pulled him away.
Hermione brandished her wand and shakily pointed it at the boggart. It was just unfortunate that it changed its shape once again. The familiar red slits glared down at her, an inhumane laugh escaping from Lord Voldemort's form.
A loud scream escaped from her lips as she opened her eyes and sat upright on the couch.
"IS EVERYTHING ALL RIGHT IN THERE?"
Hermione flinched and directed her wide eyes at her door. Loud banging could be heard, alarming the brunette. She pulled out her wand and stared suspiciously at her door. To her surprise, her doorknob started jingling before a soft click was heard. Her door opened with a bang and two, strange men greeted her eyes. The shorter of the two impulsively ran inside, but immediately bounced back from the shield she had mounted.
"Shit," she heard the fallen man curse. The other person, the taller man, helped the man stand up. "Was that really necessary, Herms? I mean, seriously? It almost knocked the beejesus off of me!"
The brunette's eyes narrowed into thin slits. "Who gave you the permission to call me 'Herms'?" she growled.
The taller of the two grinned and looked at the man beside him. "Definitely our Hermione," he commented. He looked back at the brunette, prompting his grin to widen. "We heard a scream inside and we thought some demons came to attack you. Are you all right?"
"Demons?" Hermione asked, confused. "What the bloody hell are you talking about?"
The green-eyed man smirked. "She's cursing in British again," he commented. "Good times, good times." He clapped the shoulder of the taller man and shook his head. "I'm surprised she had not launched herself into your arms yet, Sammy. I thought she'd be the most relieved of us all because, oh I don't know, you just came out from Lucifer's cage when we all thought you were dead."
Hermione had had enough. She stomped towards the shorter man and pressed her wand against his chest. "Who are you and what do you want from me?" she spat, enraged and secretly terrified. "I'm warning you. I'm armed. I can blast you off into oblivion if you do not answer my question."
"Whoa, whoa, now," he said, averting her wand so that it was now pointing to the man he addressed as 'Sammy'. "No need to go abracadabra on us, Granger. We haven't met for two years and this is how you greet us?"
She was slowly getting impatient. "I don't know you and dear Merlin above, I have no idea what you are talking about!" she claimed. "If you do not step away from my house, I am seriously going to hex you."
The taller of the two furrowed his brows and peered curiously at Hermione. "You don't remember us?" he asked. When she merely stared blankly at him, his eyes widened in shock. "You don't remember us," he repeated, this one stating it matter-of-factly.
"Son of a bitch," the shorter of the two murmured, sheer surprise also painted on his handsome face. "You don't. We've practically lived under the same roof two years ago and you don't remember?" He looked at his brother, utterly horrified, before realization dawned on his face. "Castiel."
That name suddenly sent wild ringing inside her head and she took a step back. "What do you want from me?" she murmured, warily gazing at the two strangers. They both acted as if they'd known Hermione for ages while here she was, clueless of who they were.
"Look, lady, no need to be frightened," the shorter of the two explained. "Let me introduce ourselves. I am Dean Winchester, and this is my younger brother, Sam Winchester. For your information, we've been hunting together two years ago for the whole year before… certain events happened."
It was all too much for Hermione to take and she massaged her now aching temples. "Wait, two years ago?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at them.
Both blokes simultaneously nodded their heads.
She stared at them for a while, scrutinizing their whole forms. They claim to know her two years ago, the year when her memories for that particular time were wiped away. Perhaps, they could help her remember what had happened to her.
Finally, she released a defeated sigh. Hermione raised her wand and lowered the shields. "Come inside," she then said.
Hermione turned around, but not before Dean Winchester hilariously pushed Sam inside first. His younger brother glared at him through his long fringes, before following the brunette inside.
Dean released a soft whistle and looked around her apartment. "Nice place, Sabrina," he said. "I've always wondered how you live your life here in London."
She turned to him, amused. "Sabrina?" she asked.
He smirked. "Just one of the things I call you back then," he explained.
"Sit," she then said, gesturing at her couch. Both Sam and Dean obliged and were now staring patiently at Hermione. The brunette, on the other hand, grew a little uncomfortable and finally decided to sit on the chair opposite them. "So… you're telling me we've been acquainted before?"
"More of like friends," Sam answered.
"Or siblings…" Dean added. "You pick."
She raised an eyebrow. "That close?" she asked, secretly surprised. Mentally, though, she somehow felt that there was something about these two men with American accents that was so familiar and… comfortable.
"Look, I don't remember anything that had happened to me two years ago," she then continued. "The last thing I remembered was having a meeting at work, and when I came back the next day, everybody claims that I've been gone for a year and they all thought I was dead." Hermione licked her lips and leaned closer. "I… if you two had been close with me two years ago, then I assume you know everything that had happened to me. Will you tell me?"
Sam and Dean blinked. The latter turned to his brother and whispered loud enough for Hermione to hear, "Awkward."
"It's not exactly… easy," Sam explained upon seeing her frown. "When you came to us, we were surprised ourselves, but Castiel adamantly claimed you would play a vital role."
That name again.
"So, you're Americans?" she asked.
"Proud ones," Dean said, giving her a wink.
"How'd you get here?" she asked.
"Airplanes, of course," the green-eyed American answered. "Although, I still wished some angel mojo could have zapped us here in your home."
"You say I was to play a vital role in something. What was that?" she further asked.
Sam expelled a soft sigh. "This will be weird but trust us, everything that we are about to tell you is true." He took a deep breath and proceeded to tell her about the Apocalypse, about Michael the Archangel and Lucifer the Devil, about how she had helped both of them stop the apocalypse, about how Sam got trapped together with the angel brothers in a hole and how he miraculously got out, and a lot more things that Hermione couldn't believe were real.
By the time they were done narrating, Hermione was already pacing right in front of them. She was absentmindedly twirling her wand in deep thought until she finally stopped and turned towards the two brothers.
"How come I forgot all of those?" she asked, confused. "Blimey, it sure sounded eventful to me and I am as sure as hell that I would never, ever forget those events. Unless… someone Obliviated me."
"I'm sorry, what?" Dean asked.
"Obliviated," she repeated. "As in, wipe away my memories."
"Maybe Castiel did," Sam offered.
Hermione pursed her lips and stared. "All right, I've been hearing his name again and again," she said, feeling a little hysterical. "Pray tell, who is this Castiel?"
Her question was answered with silence. She could see how Dean tensed and slightly scowled, looking beside his brother who stared back at him with a grimace.
It was Sam who answered her question. "He's an… angel," he explained.
His answer actually shocked her.
"A poor excuse of one, that traitor," Dean murmured.
"Dean, he cured me from my hallucinations," Sam reasoned out. "If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here sitting with you."
"If it wasn't for him, you wouldn't have those hallucinations in the first place," his older brother barked.
"You're mad at him," Hermione stated matter-of-factly.
"Damn right that was."
Hermione frowned at his tone.
"We've talked about this," Sam retorted back, shifting slightly to stare directly at his brother. "We agreed we will help him recover, Dean. That's why we are here."
His brother rolled his eyes and crossed his arms petulantly. They waited for him to retort something back, but he merely stared at Hermione in cold silence.
Sam shook his head and looked back at Hermione, offering her a small smile. "Sorry about that," he said, absentmindedly ruffling his hair. "Anyway, we came here, hoping to find you, so that you can come with us and see… Castiel. He's not really in his right state of mind and it's all thanks to me" – he frowned – "so, Dean and I thought you were the best person who could help us to cure him. But seeing that you don't remember him at all…"
"I wasted hours and hours of being airborne," Dean said, leaning his head against the backrest. "I always knew this was a sucky idea, Sammy."
"When you say that he's not in his right state of mind…"
"He's a wacko," Dean explained. "Or, how do you British people say it again? Oh, right, off his rocker." The green-eyed Winchester completed the last phrase with a horrible British accent, but Hermione found herself not highly amused.
"I thought he is an angel," she said, now confused. "And, well, they are powerful."
Sam frowned. "He, um, well, it was me at first who was… well, insane, and Castiel could not heal it," he explained. "Therefore, he shifted my hallucinations to himself and now he's the one who's sick. We're trying our best to find a cure and we thought you'd be the best person to help him."
"Why?" she asked.
Dean uncomfortably shifted on his seat and shot a quick glance at Sam. "Well, we thought you had this thing going on between you two before so…"
Her eyes widened in surprise. "I-I don't know what to say."
"Look, Hermione," Sam said, slightly glaring at his brother. "Castiel is our friend and we really need him right now. I'm not quite sure if the news reaches your country, but there are monsters running rampant in America. Without Cas, we can't save our country and ultimately the world."
"B-but, how can I help him?" she asked, bothered and confused. "I barely even know him."
"Well, that's where you are wrong, sister," Dean said, shaking his head. "Maybe you are Obliviated or whatever the hell that was right now, but if you regain your memory back, you'll be surprised of how much you knew the bastard. Who knows? Maybe both of you will be helping each other in the end."
His words were tempting and Hermione grew quiet. If what they were saying were true, then perhaps, this was the chance that she had been asking for so that she could regain her memory back.
"All right," she finally said after a few minutes of deep pondering. "Fine, I'm coming with you. But how are going to get there?"
Dean sheepishly smiled. "We were hoping you could help us with that," he said.
"Auror Shacklebolt?"
Hermione peeked inside her superior's office and smiled. Kingsley, on the other hand, lightly glared at the brunette.
"You're late for work today, Auror Granger," he said, sounding a little disappointed.
"I… well…" she said, sheepish. Hermione completely walked inside his office and cleared his throat. "Kingsley, remember your advice for me to take a vacation? I'm wondering if that offer is still open."
The wizard looked up from his desk and stared at Hermione, flabbergasted. "You want to take a vacation?" When she smiled and nodded, Kingsley broke into a smile. "Very good. Of course, that offer is still open. Where are you going?"
"America, I suppose," she said. "I have friends here who needed some… help."
"Hmm…" Kingsley said. "And how long will you be gone?"
"About that," she said, nervously wetting her lips. "I honestly don't know for how long. Maybe I'll owl you or something once I already have a decision."
The older Auror stared at her for a while before nodding. "All right," he said. "I'll inform the Minister."
"Thank you, Kingsley," she said, utterly grateful. She was about to walk out of his office when he stopped her.
"Oh, and Hermione," he called out. "Do have some fun. Merlin knows how much you, of all people in this company, deserve that."
She nodded and finally walked out of his office.
As she strode towards the apparition point of the ministry, Hermione's heart was thudding quite loudly inside her ribcage. She already bid her parents and friends goodbye with vague details as to where she was going and why. The fact that she was to nurse an angel to health, for heaven's sake, was too much for her already. What more if her parents and friends heard it from her?
'Am I really doing the right thing?' she asked herself for the umpteenth time upon arriving at the apparition point. She barely knew the Winchesters. 'Well, yeah, I do, but I don't remember them at all.'
The nagging, logical voice of hers kept on telling her that this was a bad idea. Perhaps, there was a valid reason as to why her memories of two years ago were wiped clean. For her to tread those dangerous waters of remembrance, maybe Hermione wouldn't like it at all.
But then, there was this selfish, illogical voice of hers that urged her to go. She had been craving for answers for months now and this was the perfect opportunity. Sam and Dean seemed awfully nice, although a little peculiar in their own ways, and they claim that they once were very close like siblings. They had the trouble of flying to UK just so they could ask her for some help.
How could she refuse them?
Hermione pushed those thoughts away first as she apparated to her flat. A loud scream escaped from her mouth upon seeing the Winchester brothers, both seated on her precious couch and watching television.
"Granger, must you scream bloody murder every time we meet?" Dean drawled, rolling his eyes at the panicky brunette.
Empty bottles of beers and pizza boxes littered her whole living room and she saw red. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" she exclaimed, scandalized at their mess. "And please, can you throw these away? You have hands and feet; I'm sure it is simple logic to throw your rubbish to the rubbish bin."
"Rubbish to the rubbish bin," Dean mimicked, complete with his horrible impersonation of Hermione.
Beside him, Sam chuckled and smiled at Hermione apologetically. "Sorry, we thought you wouldn't mind," he said. "The motels here are expensive and we didn't bring enough pounds with us."
Hermione sighed through her nose and started stacking the empty pizza boxes.
"We borrowed some of your money, though," Dean said with his mouth full. He grinned, which was a frightful sight with cheese and meat peeking inside his teeth. "Feels like the good, ol' times, Herms. I actually feel nostalgic."
The brunette couldn't help it; she smiled.
"Are we always like this?" she asked, gesturing at herself and the brothers. "I mean, two years ago?"
"Trust me, we were worse," Sam said with all the seriousness he could muster. "I'm glad you cannot remember a single thing at all."
Hermione grinned and shook her head. "Well, better clean yourself, you blokes," she said, looking at her wristwatch. "The international portkey will be activated in twenty minutes. It's best if we leave as soon as possible."
Sam and Dean shared a look before nodding their heads.
"One moment," Dean moaned, raising a finger and leaning heavily against a post.
"I warned you beforehand, you know," Hermione said, smiling as Sam clutched his stomach and doubled over.
They had just portkeyed themselves from U.K. to America and the side-effects of travelling by international portkey were already displayed by the Winchester brothers. Hermione, herself, felt a little nauseous but she had portkeyed internationally before; she was quite used to it already.
"Tell me when you are ready, you babies," she joked, giggling when Dean darkly glared at her.
After a few more minutes of resting and cursing mostly by one Dean Winchester, Hermione found herself sitting at the back of a car that she discovered neither belonged to Dean nor Sam.
"What if somebody sees us?" she hissed, shiftily looking outside her window. "And you don't even have keys!"
The engine suddenly ignited and Dean, with a triumphant smirk, turned around and winked at Hermione. "And you were saying?"
"Relax, Hermione, we're merely borrowing this," Sam said, distractedly looking at a map. He then looked at Dean, who by now started to drive. "So, we are here right now" – he pointed at one spot on the map – "We have a few hundred miles before arriving in the psychiatric institution." The kinder Winchester looked behind him and smiled. "You might as well rest for a while now, Hermione. We'll have a long ride."
Hermione shrugged and leaned her head against the backrest. "I might as well," she murmured.
Soon, she was sound asleep.
A look of distrust suddenly appeared on Dean's face. To her surprise, he pulled out his gun once again and pointed it directly at her face. "How do you know she will not be all Bela Talbot on us, Cas?" he asked.
She was confused with his choice of words as much as the angel standing beside her.
"I… was ordered to bring her here," the trench-coated man explained. "She is to aid you with the Apocalypse."
The old man spoke for the first time. "Put your gun down, boy," he ordered, placing a hand on Dean's pointed gun. He forced it down and scrutinized the brunette. "How will she aid us with the Apocalypse?"
Beside her, she could feel the trench-coated man's sudden reluctance to answer. "Her powers are… immense," he vaguely explained. "She can do whatever is needed from her."
"Powers?" Sam asked. "She's an angel, too?"
"A witch, actually," Hermione said.
Identical looks of disgust flitted their faces, much to her surprise.
"Cas, of all women in the world…" Dean said with a grimace. "Black magic… rabbit's foot… warts and all."
"Excuse me, but I think you are talking about a completely different kind of witches here, you git," she drawled, her fury rising.
Dean comically looked at the others in surprise. "She cursed me," he said with awe. "In British."
"Hermione!"
She was jerked awake and she blearily opened her eyes. The car had stopped now and confused, she looked at both Dean and Sam with wide eyes.
"We're here," Sam said, looking at her with concern. "Are you all right?"
Hermione nodded absentmindedly and opened the car door. The Winchester brothers followed suit and soon, they were walking inside an asylum. The vestiges of her dream were still swirling inside her mind and before she could stop herself, she turned to Dean and asked, "Who's Bela Talbot?"
Her question seemed to surprise the two for they looked at her strangely.
"Where'd you get that bitch's name?" Dean asked with furrowed brows. "I thought you can't remember anything?"
She lifted her hand and massaged her slightly aching head. "I… don't know," she said. Chuckling at Sam's once again concerned look, she waved her hand in dismissal. "Lucky guess, I think."
"Well, Bela Talbot's burning in hell right now so you need not concern yourself with her," Dean assured.
Hermione shrugged and brushed that question away, now giving her full attention at the mental hospital. Several mental patients littered the corridors, with their appointed nurses and doctors flanking their sides. One mental patient almost bumped into Hermione. If it weren't for Sam's quick reflexes, she would have been a messy heap on the floor right now.
"Will this friend of yours… Castiel," she started, looking curiously at them. "Will he be happy to see me?"
Dean licked his lips and shrugged. "I'm not sure," he said. "Let's just see for ourselves."
He then opened a door and walked inside. Sam followed suit until it was only Hermione who was standing right outside the room's door. For some strange reason, she felt nervous. She thought it was ridiculous, but the feeling festered until it left a one, giant hole inside her stomach.
'I feel a little sick,' she mused internally before pushing the door open and striding inside.
Both Sam and Dean had their attention on a dark-haired, blue-eyed man who was randomly babbling about bees and how lovely they were. What caught Hermione's attention, though, was the trench coat that the mental patient adorned.
It was awfully familiar.
"… thought bees are lovely works of my Father?" the blue-eyed man rambled. "If I were to die once again, and this time my Father decided not to resurrect me back as an angel, perhaps I'd chose to be a honeybee instead. Or maybe a bumblebee? I really can't choose. What do you think, Dean?"
"Castiel, just shut up," the older Winchester said.
"Maybe you like another kind of bees," the crazed man continued. His blue eyes swept to Sam. "What about you, Sam. What do you - " His words died down once his blue eyes landed on hers.
The silence that followed his strange rambling baffled both the Winchesters. They simultaneously turned around to look at Hermione, and she could see how both of their faces softened with concern.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked.
"Nothing's wrong," she hastily answered back, frowning at their looks. "I'm f - " She trailed off as a single teardrop slid down from her chin. Surprised, she lifted a hand and touched her cheeks. They were already wet with tears that Hermione had no idea she was shedding. "I'm crying," she stated, alarmed and confused. "Why am I crying?"
The one with the trench coat pushed Sam away and stepped forward, an uncertain look on his face. He hesitantly turned back at Dean. "Is that…"
His words were halted when a new person came inside the room. It turned out to be a nurse, who backpedalled upon seeing the newcomers in the room. She blinked and raised an eyebrow. "I see you're back from your little trip in London, boys," she drawled, slightly smirking in surprise. Her eyes landed on Hermione and her eyes widened. "Is this Angel Boy's girlfriend?" she asked, awed and amused.
"I'm n - "
"I hate to break this heart-warming reunion," she said, looking very nonchalant. "I really do, but Castiel here needs to attend his sessions."
Dean strangely looked at her. "You're pretending to be a nurse here, Meg," he said.
The nurse, Meg, rolled her eyes at Dean. "Exactly. Pretend, so let me pretend I'm a good nurse and bring Cas here for his medications." She grabbed the stunned trench-coated patient and dragged him out of the room. Until he disappeared behind the door, his eyes never left Hermione's face.
"That went better than I expected," Sam said once Meg and Castiel were gone.
"So that was Castiel, huh?" she asked, now haphazardly wiping the tears from her face.
To her surprise, Dean approached her and worriedly peered into her watery eyes. "Look, I have no single clue as to how you two parted two years ago," he started. "Seeing that your memories are wiped clean and Cas is a whack job, it will be a little hard. You will have a hard time. Do you still want to do this?"
Hermione nervously looked at Sam, then back to Dean. "I… honestly don't know," she whispered, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. "I don't know anything about him."
"We won't be visiting often here," Sam added. "We rented a motel near from this hospital for you already while Dean and I have some… things to do. Will you be all right without us?"
The brunette weakly smiled, surprised by their concern. "I don't know much about you blokes, either," she retorted back.
"Yeah, well, a whack job or a hottie?" Dean asked, pointing casually at himself. "I think we both know who you'd rather be with, Sabrina." To complete his statement, he gave her a flirtatious wink.
Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. "I'll be all right," she finally said. "Err… I think so. So, do your hunting business thing. What was it you're keen to defeat again? Levi - "
"Dick."
" – athans," Hermione finished, amused by Dean's passionate reply. The first time she heard that the leader of all Leviathans was named 'Dick', she knew his name would soon be the butt of Dean and Sam's jokes and curses.
"Let's get out of here from now," Dean then said. "Judging from Angel Boy's reaction to your arrival, he's too shocked to talk. We'll be back first thing in the morning, and then you are on your own, Herms."
Hermione nodded and followed the Winchesters outside the room. They all drove to the motel they had rented and called it a night.
"Oh good, you've arrived," an exasperated Meg greeted the three of them. Hermione still strangely looked at the pretend-nurse, disbelieving that she was actually a demon. "Your angel has been driving me nuts since last night, pestering me to see his girlfriend." She glared darkly at Hermione. "Where have you all been? You left without any notice."
Dean rolled his eyes and ushered them to follow him.
They arrived in Castiel's room and the said angel was seated on a chair, his eyes gazing absentmindedly at his window. Upon hearing the arrival of his guests, he turned around and serenely smiled. He stood up, his eyes quickly landing on Hermione.
The brunette, on the other hand, found herself a little nervous around his presence. This angel Obliviated her memory; it was enough to be wary around him. She did not really mean to but she hid slightly behind Dean's back when he finally stepped in front of her.
"Hermione," he called, his blue eyes alit. "It's good to see you."
She helpless stared at him, at loss of what to do.
"But then, of course, you do not remember me at all," he said, still smiling. "Shame…" He blinked and looked away from her, his eyes momentarily gazed. "Did you know that there are no bees in heaven?" He was distracted now, but he did not seem to notice. "In fact, there are no animals there. When animals die they just… poof." He comically gestured with his hands and Hermione stared back at him in amusement.
"Cas, come on, focus," Dean said, patting his shoulder. "Hermione." He pointed at the brunette. "Here. Now go hug or something, for Pete's sake. Maybe you'd regain some of your lost marbles."
Castiel tilted his head and narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Pardon?" he asked.
Hermione blinked her widened eyes, swearing to the heavens above that she had seen that expression before.
Dean grimaced. "Why do I even talk to you?" he murmured under his breath. He turned to Hermione and gave her a push forward. "We'll be leaving now, Sabrina. Leviathans on the loose, remember? Now go bond with Castiel here or something."
A protest sat at the tip of her tongue but before she could even voice it out loud, she was now alone with Meg the Demon and Castiel the Angel. 'Great,' Hermione the Witch moaned inside her head. 'I bet more species are bound to appear inside this room.'
"Well, duty calls," the demon claimed, directing Hermione's attention to her. "Go look after him for now, English chick. I'll check up on him later."
Meg then left and soon, it was only her and Castiel left.
Hermione slowly looked at the trench-coated angel standing right in front of her, his eyes slightly squinted in observation. "So…" she started, nervously grinning at him.
To her utmost surprise, he lifted his hand and gingerly touched his cheek. She shied away from his touch, bothered by the weird stirrings inside her heart, and lightly glared.
"I thought I will not be able to see you again, Hermione," he earnestly said, a disarming smile stretched widely on his crazed, handsome face.
Hermione licked her lips. "I'm afraid I can't say the same thing about you," she honestly said.
He chuckled and sauntered back to his chair near the window. He sat down, gazed outside the window, and stayed silent. Hermione, confused, awkwardly stood at the middle of the room. Her wary eyes never left the trench-coated angel's form and she had this desire to turn away and run from him as far as possible.
There was something about him… something off that bothered her to bits and pieces. He gave off the same familiarity that she felt whenever she saw Sam and Dean. But with him, it was coupled with a myriad of emotions that confused her already tampered mind.
"Why are you here?" Castiel then asked, breaking the silence. He shifted his intense blue eyes from the window back at her. "I said I'm the one who's going to find you." A pause. "Did you know that the sperm of a mouse is longer than a sperm of an elephant? One of my friends pointed it out a while ago and we shared a good laugh about it."
Hermione blinked. "Um… no," she hesitantly answered. He was barmier than what she had originally thought.
"You're not supposed to be here," he suddenly said. Hermione was surprised with his sudden shift of mood and attitude. "You were broken then; I do not want you to be broken once again. Leviathans are slowly gaining control over America." He narrowed his eyes in consternation. "I swore to protect you."
The brunette sucked in a deep breath. That particular phrase… she'd heard it before. "Sam and Dean told me we were acquainted two years ago," she slowly started. Hermione took a few steps toward him before stopping just beside his bed. "Is it true?"
Castiel's eyes grew unfocused for a while as he stared blindly outside the window. "The honeybees seemed absent today… Perhaps the flowers do not give off their usual fragrance."
"Castiel," she called exasperatedly. "Focus."
Momentarily, he closed his eyes, as if in impatience, before opening them once again and looking at her. "Yes, of course, acquaintance." A ghost of a smile – a smile that held so much knowledge – appeared on his face. "Perhaps a little more intimate than that."
She blushed. "Are we... you know," she started, nervously licking her lips.
He tilted his head in confusion. "I do not entirely understand your suggestion that I know what the next words are to your statement," he stated matter-of-factly. "Please continue."
"Merlin, you are exasperating!" she cried. When he merely blinked at her in innocence, she sighed. "You know. In a relationship."
"If you consider being bosom friends as a 'relationship'" – he made air quotes with his fingers – "then, yes, we were in a relationship, Hermione."
The brunette frowned. She detected that there was something more to them than he could ever admit. But then again, he was one, deranged angel – she should not really believe everything that was coming from his mouth. "Look, my memories of two years ago are completely wiped clean," she continued. "I've tried my very hardest to remember at least something, but not even powerful magic can restore them back. Sam and Dean believe that some of your… angel powers did this to my memory. Is it true?"
He gave her a small smile. "Yes," he said without skipping a beat.
Hermione saw red and scowled. "How dare you tamper with my mind!" she exclaimed, infuriated. "I've spent sleepless nights trying to remember everything and now I'm having annoying dreams that I do not even understand."
The angel was unfazed. In fact, he was slightly amused. "I knew you will be having some dreams soon," he said with a sigh. "Did you dream of me often?" He asked this with so much innocence; Hermione couldn't help but to darkly blush.
"Don't flatter yourself, Angel Boy," she spat.
He merely smiled at her spitefulness. "Don't be angry with me," he stated. "It was not my idea to wipe away your memories, Hermione."
Her fury mellowed as confusion built up again. "What are you talking about?" she asked.
"You told me to wipe your memories away," he said. "I was against it, but you gave me those puppy dog eyes of yours." He reached from his seat and fondly tapped her nose. "How can I resist that?"
Her blush darkened. "How can I ask for an obliviation?" she asked, frowning. "You are barmy."
"That is a term for 'crazy', correct?" Castiel asked. "I rather like being called 'barmy' rather than 'crazy'. I'll try persuading Dean once he steps foot in my room again. Oh, by the way, I ate a fruit called Dragon Fruit for the first time a while ago. I was terrified to eat it at first. I mean, isn't it baffling how humans enjoy to eat a supposedly mythical creature? But then, I tasted it, and it wasn't so bad. I asked Meg to take a bite from mine but she claimed she was allergic to it." He frowned, absentmindedly ruffling his hair. "Funny how a demon can be allergic to dragons now."
"Cas," she said, trying to divert his attention back to her. "I want you to bring back my memories."
The bright smile that he was sporting now fell off from his handsome face. "I'm afraid I have to refuse that," he said.
"You said it was my decision for you to wipe away my memories," she claimed. "So, I want you to bring it back again."
Castiel's face hardened with surprising sternness. "No, I swore to protect you," he declared once again. "Bringing your memories back will give you more pain and horror. I cannot allow that."
"Castiel…"
"No, no, don't look at me with those eyes," he exclaimed, panicked. "You know that I am going to lose my resolve soon."
Hermione blinked. "I am not doing anything," she interjected back. He scowled at her and turned away. "Oh, don't be ridiculous now, Angel Boy. I'm a grown witch; I've seen more horrific things in the past. If I tell you to bring my memories back, then you will!"
The crazy angel closed both of his ears with his hands, blocking her voice. "I'm not listening!" he sing-songed. "I'm not listening!"
"Castiel!" she cried.
He glared through his fringes. "I don't like conflict," he declared, and proceeded to disappear from the room with a peculiar sound of wind and wings.
Hermione jerked around in surprise, trying to locate the missing angel. She dashed out of the room and searched the corridors but Castiel was nowhere to be found. She then spotted the demon casually strolling out from one of the rooms and approached her.
"Castiel is missing!" she cried to Meg.
To her irritation, the pretend nurse only calmly stared at her. "I have this hunch you made him upset," she stated, rolling his eyes. "Don't worry, he's probably in the dayroom right now." Hermione almost dashed away from Meg, but the demon held onto her arm. "I think he had enough for today. Judging from his sudden weirder antics lately, your boyfriend seemed a little troubled by your appearance. Leave him for today and come back tomorrow."
She debated whether to listen to Meg or not. In the end, she pulled away from the pretend nurse and nodded. 'I'm obeying a demon,' she mused in slight amusement. 'I really must be barmy, too.' "All right," she said. "But I'm returning tomorrow."
Meg rolled her eyes. "Gasp. Really?" she asked, her tone of voice laced with sarcasm.
Hermione glared. Before she could retort a decent comeback, Meg turned away from her and walked inside another room.
The brunette released an exhausted sigh and apparated back to her motel room.
"Where's Castiel?" Hermione asked after finally spotting Meg in the vast mental hospital.
The demon looked at her, amused. "It's still quite early in the morning," she said, surveying her from head-to-toe. "What are you doing here?"
The witch silently bristled in impatience. "Just tell me where Castiel is," she said.
Meg rolled her eyes. "Good God, no need to be so impatient," she said, harrumphing afterwards. "Your angel boyfriend is probably in the hospital garden right now. At times like this he likes to, and I quote him, 'watch how the bees help the procreation of flowers'."
Hermione distractedly thanked the pretend nurse and searched for the crazy angel. It was easy to spot the gardens, seeing that it was the busiest place at such an early hour. Mental patients littered the whole beautiful garden; some were flying kites together, while others merely sat down on the benches, already lost in their own, bizarre world.
It was also easy to spot Castiel since he was the only mental patient who adorned a beige trench coat above the usual uniform. She meandered through the patients until she finally reached the crazy angel. Upon arriving, she backpedalled in horror – obvious bee stings were present on his face and arms, but the trench coated angel did not seem to mind.
When he spotted her, his eyes grew a little wider. "Hermione!" he cried, breaking into a wide, relieved grin. "You are early today."
She latched onto his arm and tried to drag him back inside. "Come on; you need to be checked," she purposely said. Hermione knew that at a certain number of stings, a person could already die. What more if Castiel was actually allergic to bee stings and he did not even know it?
'Can angels be allergic of something, too?' she asked herself, nervously licking her lips. 'Or perhaps Jimmy Novak is…' She paused, confused as to how that name suddenly popped into her mind.
Hermione turned to the strangely quiet patient and frowned. "Who's Jimmy Novak?" she demanded.
Castiel smiled. "My vessel," he said. He paused and then tugged his arm away from her grasp. "Can we go back to the garden again? I have not yet finished what I intended to do."
The brunette stopped walking and turned to him, flabbergasted. "Dear Merlin, Castiel!" she exclaimed. "You're filled with bee stings. A doctor is supposed to see you now."
The angel looked at his arms and released a soft 'oh'. For a moment, he was silent, and Hermione watched in awe as all of the bee stings suddenly disappeared. He looked as good as new. "I am an Angel of the Lord," he answered her silent question. He then walked right in front of her, straight to his room.
Hermione followed and frowned when she arrived. Castiel was still standing calmly in front of his bed, his eyes instantly connecting with hers. His hands were clasped behind him, as if hiding something from her.
"What were you doing in the garden, anyway?" she asked, suspicious. "I know you suddenly have this fondness over bees, but that is not a reasonable excuse to be their stinging buddy all of a sudden."
Castiel slightly tilted his head, scrutinizing her quietly, before breaking into a small smile. "I have pondered last night in the dayroom and realized I might have caused you some distress, Hermione," he started. "At my flight, I could imagine the fury you must have felt. Because of that, I apologize. Thus, as a gift for your forgiveness, I decided to give you this." He revealed his hands, only to see that it was occupied by a small zip-lock bag. "Please accept it."
He stretched out his hand and Hermione gingerly accepted what she perceived as a plastic filled with honey. Strangely, a warm feeling filled her heart and she disbelievingly smiled at the ridiculous, yet adorable trench-coated angel standing in front of her. "Thank you," she softly said. "And I do forgive you."
The crazy angel smiled and nodded his head. "That doesn't mean that I will be forced to bring your memories back, yes?"
Hermione wanted to protest so badly, but his widened eyes swayed her. Silently, she made a mental note to bring this topic up again in the future.
For now, she nodded her head in confirmation.
She continued visiting Castiel, everyday, and before she knew it, two months had already passed.
Sam and Dean rarely visited. Their 'Leviathans' and 'Dick' problems were still unsolved and they were trying their best to research a clue to kill him, together with Bobby Singer and a man named 'Frank'.
Today, they decided to drop by. While Sam quietly talked to Castiel, Dean opted to stand right at the doorframe, a contemplative look on his face.
"He's doing well, you know," Hermione said, standing beside him.
Dean gave her a sideway glance. "I didn't ask," he gruffly said.
The brunette sighed. "Your silent question was written all over your face," she answered. "I wanted to unburden you and answer your question."
The older Winchester rolled his eyes. "Nobody asked you to unburden me, Glenda," he shot back.
An amused smile appeared on her face at his name-calling again. She concluded long before that Dean Winchester will never be Dean Winchester if he didn't call people by his self-made nicknames. "Castiel is remorseful," she quietly added after a few moments of silence. "I can see it, even through his crazed façade."
Dean's jaw tightened and his eyes hardened. "You don't know anything, Granger," he drawled. "You don't know what he did. He betrayed us."
"And he's sorry," she replied back. "For your information, he kept on asking me if Dean this and Dean that would like a bag of honey from some bees he became 'acquainted' with in the hospital garden." When he strangely looked at her, she softly chuckled. "Castiel has this weird, yet adorable way of apologizing by giving others a bag of honey. He did the same thing to me before."
He smacked his lips and lifted an eyebrow, once again looking at his younger brother interacting with the insane angel. "You know, I still believed Castiel wouldn't have gone all dark side in the past if you stayed beside him," he truthfully answered.
"Oi, no need to use the guilt card here," she said, glaring through her fringes.
"I still don't understand why you chose amnesia," Dean said, unfazed by her sudden anger. "You… you were happy back then, you know. I could see it in your eyes. We were happy. When you first arrived in Bobby's house, spiteful and confused, you were… um… broken, I think. But as months passed by, you became better."
"I want to get my memories back," she said with a frown. "But Castiel refuses every time. He disappears and everything, and then gives me a bag of honey the very next day."
Dean looked at her, amused. He then shook his head and softly chuckled. "Angel Boy here always had a soft spot for you," he said, jutting his chin towards the rambling angel. "At first it used to be me, no offense, but when you came…"
Hermione thoughtfully observed Castiel. For a moment, his startling blue eyes connected with her and he smiled. She smiled back and waved her hand in return. When his eyes landed on Dean, the guilt was once again present on his face. It was fleeting, yes, but it was there. He averted his eyes away from Dean, back to Sam, and started narrating yet another adventure he had with a stubborn bee and a beautiful rose.
"Still," she started, turning to Dean. "You must forgive him. Maybe if he is already in his right state of mind. I'm not blind, Dean; Castiel is important to you. That's why you're acting like a stubborn five-year-old over this simple matter."
"Trust me, it's not simple at all," he shot back.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "And those words came from a man who values family," she shot back. He glared at her, having hit a sore spot, and she sighed through her nose. "I don't really remember anything but I've always felt that Castiel used to be a brother to you. Until he betrayed you and broke that sorry heart of yours."
"Hey!"
"All I'm saying is to give him another chance," she quickly shot back, unfazed by his sudden anger. "Castiel… he is a child. A powerful angel maybe, but do remember they are designed to be different from us. His new emotions and thoughts can be likened to a child struggling to properly learn… to do the right thing." Hermione exasperatedly softened her features. "He needs you and Sam now, Dean. At least be there by his side."
Her little outburst was met with silence. An unreadable expression clouded Dean's true emotions as he stared at her face.
Finally, he broke into a small smirk and shook his head. "I've forgotten how you loved to nag us boys," he shot back. "It's refreshing."
Hermione raised an eyebrow and smiled. She could already detect that he was considering what she said. "You try to test my patience in the future, and I'll give you hell, Winchester," she said.
"Been there, done that," he said flippantly, waving his hand. "You don't scare me, witch. I still know how to kill one."
"Not if I killed you first," she lightly threatened.
Dean broke into a full-blown smile and surprisingly pulled her into a hug. "This is why I missed you so much, Herms," he claimed, playfully ruffling her hair. "That beautiful mouth of yours… if that crazy angel's not looking at us right now, I might have kissed you on your lips."
Hermione blushed and weakly pushed him away from her. "Let me go, Winchester, or I swear I'll hex you 'til the next millennium," she cried.
Dean boisterously laughed and pulled away from her. "Come on, Sammy!" he then said. "We have a dick to kill."
Sam sighed and stood up, offering Castiel an apologetic smile. "We'll be back some time," he promised. He then strode towards Dean and gave Hermione a smile. "If something happens, give us a call."
"Hey! Angel Boy!" Dean exclaimed, surprising the three of them in the room. Castiel's eyes were widened in surprise, but not a word came out from his mouth. "Once you're well, you're going to pay me, big time. You hear me?"
Castiel blinked and tilted his head in confusion. "Loud and clear," he answered back.
Dean nodded before dragging Sam out of his room. Soon, it was only Hermione and Castiel left in the room.
"Did I… did I detect some semblance of forgiveness in Dean just a while ago?" the angel asked as Hermione occupied the seat where Sam previously sat.
Hermione smiled and reached for his hand. "I believe you did," she said, patting his hand. "That's why you have to get better, Castiel. Okay?"
The angel broke into a brilliant smile and earnestly nodded his head.
"Did I love you?"
Castiel looked up from the 'Snakes and Ladders' board game and narrowed his eyes at the furiously blushing brunette.
Hermione had no idea why she suddenly asked that question. It was perhaps purely because of her curiosity. But she knew that the reason was entirely different. She had been visiting Castiel for almost five months now, and still, the angel was still as barmy as ever. He had grown on Hermione, of course, and she swore there were weird feelings at the pit of her stomach every time she was with him.
Her certain fondness for him was alarming. Coupled with it were strange somersaults in her heart whenever he smiled at her or accidently touched any exposed skin that she had. She then concluded, seeing that she was the brightest witch of her age, that she was having feelings for a deranged, babbling angel. Perhaps it had started as she continued to spend some time with him. Or, she had feelings for him two years ago and she had just forgotten.
Which then, led her to asking that darned question.
"Yes," he answered softly, before lowering his eyes back at the game. "Yes, you did."
He became so engrossed into playing that he was able to miss her furiously blushing cheeks.
"Oh," she answered back. She awkwardly drummed her fingers on the table and bit her bottom lip. She felt like she had to get away from his presence for a while.
"It's your turn," he said, impatiently pointing at the board game.
"Right, yes," she said, grabbing the dice and rolling it on the table. She aimlessly moved her piece and stopped. Castiel, sighing exasperatedly, grabbed her piece and brought it back to the start box. Apparently, she just landed on a snake; therefore, obliging her to go down a few boxes.
While he played his turn, Hermione quietly observed him. Sam, Dean, and even Meg always hinted that there was something special between her and Castiel two years ago. Although she found it preposterous, seeing that they were of two completely different species, the other three seemed quite certain in their jokes every time they were in her presence.
"D-did you love me back?" she blurted out even before she could stop herself.
Castiel momentarily froze before calmly looking back at her. "Did you know that honey is the only thing that can never spoil?" he asked, seemingly fascinated by himself. "I have stashed away a bag of honey, which I gathered six months ago, and when I ate it, my stomach did not ache. Wonderful, isn't it? If there will be scarcity in this world, then honey is the fi - "
Hermione impatiently sighed. "You're evading my question," she accused.
The angel snapped his lips shot and looked back at the board game. "It's your turn now," he lightly said.
"Castiel," she exclaimed, exasperated.
"I feel no inclination to answer your previous question, Hermione," Castiel coldly said. "Now play."
"You did, didn't you?" she continued, unfazed by his sudden attitude. "But you never told me because, oh right, you're an angel and I'm a fucking mortal and species like the both of us should never be happy together."
He blinked, surprised at her outburst. "You're mad," he pointed out. "Why are you mad?"
"I don't know!" she hollered.
"Hmmm…" he said, looking back at the board game and rolled the dice. When his piece reached the finish box, he grinned. "I won today."
Hermione opened her mouth, desperately wanting to get an answer from him, but she knew it would be futile. Castiel kept on changing the subject and she predicted this conversation would be long. After all, she already felt a little tired.
"I'll be going now, then," she said, slowly standing up from her seat.
A look of disappointment crossed his features. "Already?" he asked, frowning at her.
She looked away, annoyed that his facial expression was doing stuffs to her stomach. "I'll be back," she lamely promised.
Without waiting for his reply, she turned around and left.
Bobby Singer is dead.
Hermione could feel the tears streaming down from her face as she mournfully sat on her bed in the rented motel. She did not even remember the old man, but she could still feel this hollowness in her heart. Sam just called her earlier that morning as she got ready to visit Castiel and told her the news. It seemed like her whole world stopped after hearing the horrible news.
Seeing that Sam was inclined to tell her the news about the death of a person she could not remember, Hermione deduced that Bobby Singer used to be an important person in her life two years ago, too.
She snapped off her grieving stupor when her cell phone rang. She sniffed and wiped away her tears, clearing her throat as she pressed the answer button.
"Hello?" she softly asked.
"Hermione?" Dean's voice answered from the other end.
"Dean?" she asked, surprised to hear his voice. "Is something the matter?"
He released an exasperated sigh. "Is Castiel with you?" he asked. "Meg called me and told me Angel Boy is missing. We thought he might be with you right now."
Hermione frowned. 'Castiel is missing?' she asked, feeling the panic rising up in her stomach. "No, Dean, sorry. But I'll try to – AHHHH!"
A hand flew to her chest as the missing angel himself now stood frighteningly close in front of her.
"Judging from the god-awful scream of yours, Castiel decided to appear right in front of you," Dean said, his voice laced with annoyance. "Tell Angel Boy to get his ass back to the hospital or else, I'm going to clip his wings." He then proceeded to hang up.
"Castiel," she reprimanded, frowning at the angel. "What are you doing here?"
His pout matched hers. "You did not visit today," he stated. His eyes slightly narrowed as he peered at her face. "Have you been crying? What caused you such distress?"
"I'm fine, I'm fine," she said, grabbing his arm and leading him to her bed. She pushed his shoulders down until he was now sitting on her bed. "Somebody I don't remember just died and the tears started to fall."
His face considerably softened. "I heard about Bobby Singer's death from Meg," he said. "It is a shame that such a remarkable person finally reached the end of his time on Earth. My Father does work in mysterious ways. Even I am sometimes baffled by his actions."
"Come on, let's go back to the hospital," she said, but the trench-coated angel refused to stand up.
"No, you must grieve for now," he said, seriously patting on his shoulder. "I'm happy to lend a shoulder if you need one."
Her eyes filled with tears once again as she plopped down on the bed beside the angel and wrapped her arms around his torso. She earnestly cried for Bobby Singer while Castiel rubbed comforting circles on her back.
Soon, her eyes were red and her throat was raw from crying. The angel continued to pat her back despite the fact that her tears had already stopped falling.
"Thank you," she whispered, gingerly kissing his cheek. "I felt that I needed that."
Hermione pulled away from his comforting embrace and stared straight at his intense, blue eyes. Her heart thudded loudly inside her ribcage and she sighed, annoyed that such feelings were still awake in her body. "Castiel," she whispered. "I'm tired of not remembering."
He frowned and fully pulled away from her arms. "What are you suggesting?" he asked.
"Look," she started, growing exasperated. "I just cried my heart out over an old man that I don't even remember. Don't you think it would be a little fair if I mourned for his death while cherishing memories I used to have with him?"
"No," he flatly said.
"Castiel, come on!" she cried, glaring furiously at the angel. "If it was my decision to wipe away my memories, then it is also up to me whether I want them back. And breaking news, Angel Boy, I want them back. So don't be so stubborn now and give them back to me!"
Castiel stubbornly crossed his arms against his chest. "No," he said once again. There was a pause before he calmly stared back at her. "I feel like playing Twister. Would you like to play with me back in the hospital, Hermione?"
She punched his chest in frustration. "Stop changing the subject, you arse!" she exclaimed.
"I don't like conflict," he reminded her.
Hermione tightly clutched onto his arms. "If you disappear once again, I swear, I am going to hunt you," she hissed, her nails digging into his arms.
To her surprise, his eyes widened a little at her threat. It flabbergasted her more when his lips lifted up into a small, fond smile. "Those were the first words you uttered to me the first time we met," he whispered back.
Angry tears slid down from her face and she sighed. "Please, I want my memories back," she whispered. "I-I want to be useful again. Sam and Dean are endangering themselves more and more each day while finding a blasted solution to kill the Leviathans. I want to help them." She sucked in a deep breath and loosened her grip on his arms. "I want to help you."
A small scowl appeared on Castiel's face. "I do not deserve to be helped," he stated matter-of-factly. "I've done terrible things in the past year, Hermione. I've betrayed Dean's trust and I cannot forgive myself. Having these… these hallucinations comforted me because I know I'm paying for my sins."
Hermione placed a hand against his cheek. He tensed under her touch for a while, until he gradually relaxed and even leaned against her touch. Hermione was once again struck by the familiarity; it was as if she did this often to him.
"Don't say that," she whispered, rubbing her thumb against his cheek. "Both Sam and Dean are also trying their best to find a way to cure you. See? Dean is gradually forgiving you. The least you can do is to admit that you want their help, too."
He stood away from Hermione and silently stared outside her motel window.
"Cas…" she whispered. She paused, familiar words sitting at the tip of her tongue, before saying, "My trench-coated angel."
She could see how he closed his eyes through his reflection on the window. "You used to call me that," he whispered back. He slowly turned around and fondly smiled at her. "I truthfully missed it, Hermione."
The brunette gingerly approached him and stopped when she was a few feet away from him. "Please bring my memories back," she pleaded once again.
Castiel calculatingly stared at her. And then, finally, he released a defeated sigh and stepped a few more inches closer to her. "I… I might not be in my right mind, but I still swore to protect you," he whispered, lifting his index and middle fingers. "I'll try to do my best from now on, Hermione."
He then proceeded to press his fingers on her forehead. Blinding pain shot up to her head and she clutched her head, stifling a scream. Images and scenes flooded her mind and by the time the sensation was done, she was gasping for breath.
"I…" she said, her eyes still tightly closed. When she slowly opened her eyes once again, tears were once again streaming down from her face. "I remember everything."
She remembered meeting the Winchesters and Bobby Singer for the first time. She remembered hunting monsters she never imagined in her whole life she would see. She remembered Michael and Lucifer and the Apocalypse. She remembered Sam sacrificing himself to save the whole world. She remembered a broken Dean, finding solace in the home of a girl named Lisa and her son Ben. But most of all, she remembered Castiel… all of Castiel, and how much she loved him.
"Castiel," she sobbed, cradling his face in both of her hands. She tiptoed and gave him a kiss on his lips, grinning through her tears when he stared at her in astonishment. "Thank you."
The trench-coated angel snapped off from his dazed stupor as he gathered the brunette into his arms.
"Welcome back, Hermione."
A/N: So, did you like it? Tell me in your reviews!
I honestly had fun typing this one-shot. The "I-don't-remember-anything" of Hermione actually amused me and I had fun playing with her emotions every time she tries to remember something. Also, like what I've said, typing Crazy!Cas was a challenge, but that did not mean I didn't have fun at all.
Also, I hope that I still managed to make Dean in character. I'm kinda more comfortable typing him than Sammy (hence, there was an obvious lack of his presence and dialogue), so I hope I still retained his personality.
Anyway, I have a little announcement to make - I believe I'm still going to make another sequel for this! You know, perhaps finally getting them together *wink* *wink*. LOL, I cannot believe I'm having so much fun writing an HP/SPN crossover, much less a Hermione/Castiel! And well, even though most of my reviewers pointed out that they usually prefer a Hermione/Dean or Hermione/Sam fic, you still chose to give my story a chance. So yeah, I'm going to make a sequel so do watch out for me :)
That's all for now. Again, I am awfully, awfully thankful you spend some time reading my Hermione/Castiel stories. I'd be a hundred times happier if you review *hint* *hint*
With love,
WickedlyAwesomeMe