Dean watched Hermione curiously as she poured the popcorn into a bowl and then placed a mug into the microwave, waiting for it to beep before she took the mug and poured it over the popcorn with a slight smile on her face. Sam was locked up in his room, trying to figure out whatever "danger" they were all in, and Dean had asked him if he wanted to watch a movie. When he'd said no, he'd gone out on a limb and asked Hermione, who smiled and agreed before going into the kitchen and making her bizarre snack. She plopped onto the couch next to him and handed him the bag of regular popcorn as he curiously eyed hers. Apparently, she'd added melted chocolate to it.

"I know it's weird but I don't care," she said, apparently having caught him staring, happily popping a piece into her mouth and chewing.

"Granger, don't take this the wrong way, but…" She paused and looked to him, "Are you pregnant?"

She frowned and swallowed, "No, seeing as I've been trapped in this house with you and Sam for about a month and a half, and Sam is adorably frightened of me so therefore won't make a move and I probably wouldn't let you touch me, and if I'd been impregnated before my imprisonment I would be showing by this stage – especially in this." Ahh, good, she did know the tank top was tight and incredibly distracting.

"You're eating like a pregnant chick," he hummed, turning his attention to the screen as he propped his long legs up on the coffee table and she curled hers up against the bowl.

"I know," she grinned when he arched an eyebrow over in her direction, "Not from first-hand experience – my friend, Ginny, was pregnant." She winced and looked down at the popcorn, "Probably not, anymore. God, they probably think I'm dead or something."

"I'm sure Castiel told them something, don't worry about it," Dean waved the worry away, "So, tell me – were all your boy-toys magical?"

"Just Ron," she hummed.

"Why?" he blinked.

"They were abusive – imagine them with powers," she arched an eyebrow at him before turning back to the screen, "I am good, but I couldn't hurt someone I cared about. I only hexed Jeff because he was murderous and knew anyway – Isaiah didn't last as long, so I didn't tell him."

"How long were you with the last guy?"

"Ohh…I want to say nearly three years, but not as long…" she blinked, "Dear God, I wasted three years of my life with that bastard."

"Why did you stay with him?" Dean asked incredulously.

She sighed, "Why they all stay – self-esteem issues, 'where will I go', denial, fear…never love with us though. I don't think we ever said it." She blinked before frowning at him, "Stop that. I'm healing – leave me alone about it." He knew she was teasing by the slight upward curve of her lips. He shrugged and they were silent, watching the movie together, before she continued, "I ran away, you know."

"I know," he murmured, "He told me when he hired us. Expected us to bring you back – sorry to tell you, Sweetheart, but we weren't going to."

"Good," she said in a strange tone of voice, "I would've rather died than gone back to him."

"Whoa," Dean blinked, "This just suddenly became serious."

She snorted and grinned, getting back a little light in her eyes, "Yeah, tell me about it. You and Sam keep asking everything about me, but I barely know you two." She turned away from the screen, leaned closer to him, and raised her eyebrows.

"Want to do a question and answer?" he asked, movie long forgotten now. "I ask, you answer, you ask, I answer?"

"Fair enough," she hummed, "What was your childhood like?"

He scowled, "Horrible. After our mom died, Dad became obsessed with getting revenge." Dean winced, "I kind of picked up some of his habits. Sam, thankfully, never did. Sam and I talked about it a few years ago and decided that I'd stay in whatever town Sam would be going to college in and take care of him. Dad threw a fit. Left. Haven't talked to him since. What was your childhood like?"

She sighed, "Awful. I was picked on constantly, because of my teeth, my hair, my personality – there really was no escape. I thought Hogwarts would be my ticket – nope. Got picked on more, actually, but they tacked on my background, blood status, and how good I was in classes. I am, literally, the brightest witch of my generation. My whole life has just been one big pile of hate with a few moments that gave me hope before it was suddenly squashed into oblivion. Now, ahh…how did you meet Castiel?"

"Cas met us," Dean snorted, "See, I went to Hell and Angel Boy pulled me out." She blinked at him, "Yeah, I died and everything – anyway, Cas pops in this totally staged appearance, and tells me that the only reason I'm alive is because God has work for me. Uhh…alright, this can make or break our friendship."

"Oh Merlin, the pressure is killing me," she deadpanned with a slight grin.

"Favorite band?" he asked.

She blinked at the simple question and thought for a moment, "It varies. I grew up on classical rock, and so I guess that's what I show favoritism to, but I'm not all that picky. Except rap and hip-hop, I can't stand those. And anything that's repetitive and annoying. Like really, 'Call Me Maybe' should not have been invented. Ahh – how did you die?"

"Apparently I got ripped apart by hellhounds," he shrugged as she blinked again, "So you lived with that Jeff guy for three years?"

"This brings a sense of déjà vu," she teased before sighing, "Nearly, I think. We started out as roommates that got serious. Thankfully I never slept with him – I would hate to imagine a child being brought into that, accidental or planned."

"You lived with a guy for three years and never slept with him?" Dean questioned disbelievingly.

"Hey, it's my turn," she grinned cheekily, "Ahh – what're your thoughts on Angel Boy?"

"Compared to the other angels, he's alright – he has a better understanding of humanity and mortals than you would think, compared to them, but he's working on it. My last question now, please."

She sighed, "No, I never slept with him. Never slept with anyone, actually." She blinked when he choked on his popcorn and coughed before looking up at her with bleary eyes.

"You've never had sex?" he asked, "You're still a virgin?"

"There's really only one way to understand what I just said," she frowned. "I'm really big on waiting until – hey!" She threw a piece of popcorn at him, "It was my turn! You took my turn!" Dean huffed and looked pointedly at her as she thought, "Err – biggest pet peeve?"

"Not getting answers to my questions." She frowned at him. "No, really! I hate it when people dodge around and go off-topic or ignore me completely. Like, Jesus Christ, I'm doing this for a reason; I'm not really all that interested in your personal lives. How could you not have sex ever?"

"Why not?" she shrugged, "I mean, I've never had it, how would I know if I were missing anything? Besides, the white in the wedding dress actually stands for something. Why would you have to ask about someone's personal life?"

"Ahh, we sometimes act like crime scene investigators to try to get demons or whatever," he shrugged, "We're probably not too good at it. We ask some pretty weird questions. 'Has your spouse/girlfriend/boyfriend/child/sibling/cousin/c at recently taken an interest in the occult?'"

Hermione chuckled, grinning back at him, "It could use some work. Why do you two keep hunting?"

"Honestly? I don't know. Habit, I guess. This is the longest we've ever been stationary." He tilted his head back and spread his arms along the back of the couch, accidentally hitting a curl, a small smile stretching across his face as he watched her watching him, "It's nice."

She smiled back, "So stay, then."

"Maybe." His hand finally reached and grabbed a curl, making her freeze for a moment before she convinced her body that he wasn't going to hurt her. He twisted the curl around on his finger and watched as it sprung back into place again and again. "Why did people make fun of your hair?"

"I don't know – to be mean, I guess," she sighed, "It was huge and this giant bushy mess, I never could brush through it." She smiled a little, "Why are you playing with my hair?"

"I like your hair," he answered truthfully, "It's fun. Girl's hair is always fun to play with – you'll never see me or Sam playing with each other's hair. Why'd you flinch?"

"I got out of a line of abusive relationships, Dean, why do you think I flinched?" she sighed. "Why do we keep coming back to this conversation?"

"Because I'm still trying to get over the fact that someone was that heartless to do that to you, let alone two. Do you want me to stop?"

"Asking about it or playing with my hair?"

"Either."

She thought for a few moments and sighed, "No. It's fine – I'm over it. And girls like it when guys play with their hair anyway, we just don't want you knowing."

"Why not?" he asked in amusement.

"I don't bloody know," she huffed, "Some stupid universally recognized law, I guess. Like – like makeup. I think I missed that growing up – I have no idea how makeup works. If you ever see me with makeup on, quickly question me, because either it's not me or I got someone to do it for me, in which case I will have complained about it excessively beforehand." Dean chuckled and she smiled, shutting her eyes and leaning against the cushion, her shoulder touching his arm. "What would you be doing if you weren't hunting?"

"I don't really know," he answered as he slowly guided her into him, as her breathing had started to level out. He took the bowl of her weird popcorn and set it on the table to his left, taking the bag and setting it there as well.

He kept playing with the curls, staring off at the same direction of the screen while she slept, raising his head up after a long while when someone asked "What movie were you watching? Must've been dull."

"I don't even know," he murmured before seeing his brother's arched eyebrow, "She's asleep."

"Ah," Sam said in a quieter tone, taking an armchair and looking at the two. Hermione had draped an arm over Dean's torso, her other arm a pillow of sorts, Dean's hand still running through her hair. "You two look cozy." He grinned at Dean's glare before something behind him made him blink, Dean twisting his head when Castiel strode over and blinked down at the young witch nestled into the hunter's side.

"She'll have nightmares," he warned, eyeing Dean carefully, "She always does."

"Well, I figure that considering she's been through a war, she'll have reflexes, and I'm not willing to test her reflexes by waking her up or moving her," Dean rattled off, "However, either of you are welcomed to test them." The three were silent before Sam stood and handed Dean a blanket before heading back up to his room.

"She's been through a lot, Dean," Castiel commented.

"I know, Angel Boy," he sighed, "She told me." He glanced up again and Castiel was gone, leaving him to unfold the blanket Sam had given him and drape it across both him and her. He reached and flicked the light off, then the TV, then angled himself a little without disturbing her so that one leg was on the couch and the other wasn't. He fell asleep with his finger weaving through a curl.