Nightshifter
-Did I ever tell you about the time I turned a pervert into a toilet scrubber?
Hermione jumped out of her seat and looked up at the Trickster, scowling at him.
-Would you stop doing that? You're gonna give me a heart attack, she said before going back to her book.
Loki produced a lollipop and put it in his mouth, watching his bushy little friend with interest. He had a soft spot for the young witch, ever since he watched transform that horrible reporter into a beetle and keep her in a jar for months. Homegirl knew how to get revenge. So he had tried to help her as much as he could without alerting his brothers of his presence. After all, Gabriel was supposed to be dead.
-Why aren't you asking me about my story? he asked pouting.
-Because I'm not interested, she replied without even looking at him.
He stayed silent for a few seconds before getting bored again.
-Pay attention to me, he whined, dragging out the last word.
He was a few millenias old norse god, he was allowed to whine if he wanted to. Hermione glared at him from above her book.
-What do you want? she spat.
She was mad. Why was she mad? This didn't make any sense. He looked around and found a calendar. The date immediately answered his questions. Yep, that would do it.
-Aren't you supposed to be getting ready by now? Never took you for the fashionably late kinda girl.
Her grip on the book tightened, her knuckles whitening.
-I'm not going, she whispered through crisped teeth.
-Why not?
-Because the whole thing is bloody ridiculous! she snapped, finally looking at him. The Order of Merlin? Really? A few months ago, they were calling for my blood, quite literally. And now they're decorating me. They're giving me a pat on the back and a bunch of money, like that makes it okay.
He let her explode, yelling her frustration at him.
-People died, kids who were fighting a war the Ministry was supposed to be fighting. And now they're doing these… these big things with lots of pretty pictures, when we haven't even finished mourning. It's not right.
Hermione's voice cracked at that last sentense, and she anrily wiped a stray tear from her cheek.
-I'm not going, she said, almost petulantly.
-Well you don't have to, he said.
That made her relax.
-Or you could send a message.
That gave her the look he loved so much about her, that mischievous look that usually meant someone was about to be turned into a beetle. Metaphorically speaking.
Later, he framed a picture of Hermione wearing the most resplendissant gown, giving the Wizengamot the finger then putting the Medal they gave her on a giant picture of Sirius Black. Gabriel really loved that witch.
ooooooooooooooooooooo
Sam and Dean Winchester are on the road again. But this time it's different. No music is blasting from the radio, and Sam is speaking, and, for once, Dean isn't politely asking him to shut his pie hole.
-We're screwed, Dean. This time, we are definitely screwed. In every sense of the word. Screwed.
His blackberry starts ringing.
-Will you throw that thing away, for fuck's sakes, Sammy. You said it yourself, we're screwed, we need to get rid of all our cells.
-Hold on, hello?
Dean rolls his eyes before focusing on the road again, now's really not the time to get in an accident.
-Robbing banks and taking hostages? Really?
The voice is so loud he can hear it from his seat. For a second he feels bad for his little brother's ear.
-Hermione, it's not what it looks like.
-Hermione? Hang up, Sam.
-I bloody hope not.
Sam then starts telling the whole story, ignoring his brother's regular huffing. And after agreeing to meet her, he finally hangs up.
-Tell me the familiarity I heard was just me imagining things, says Dean.
Receiving no answer, he curses.
-Damn it, Sammy, we're friends with witches now?
-She can help, Dean. I trust her. She told me about her people, and I've been researching and it makes sense. She's not lying, it's all in the lore.
-So she's not lying. She's still a witch, supernatural. I've seen what she can do, okay ? We kill people like her.
-People like me, says Sam.
-Don't start again, it's not the same.
-She has abilities she was born with, she didn't choose them, doesn't use them to hurt or kill anyone. I say it's exactly the same.
Dean spares his little brother a glance. He does have abilities, powers he doesn't trust. But he would not kill him, nor would he let anyone lay a hand on him. No matter what his father said. But trusting a witch, regardless of where she got her powers, is way too much to ask.
-Turn here.
-Why? That doesn't lead to any town.
-Just do it, the younger hunter snaps.
He's staring out the window, biting his nails. Dean slightly shakes his head.
-Bitch.
The shadow of a smile plays on his brother's lips.
-Jerk.
The road is rocky and tortuous, and after a while it continues in a forest. They keep driving for another hour, before Sam finally tells him to stop. They climb out of the car, looking at the shack in front of them. It seems to barely stand, as if the faintest brise would send it crumbling to the ground. A young woman with bushy hair comes out of it. Her blue jeans tucked into combat boots, a large woolen pullover hung way past her hips.
-Glad you made it, she speaks, smiling.
Sam smiles back.
-You two make me sick, says Dean. What are we doing here?
Hermione keeps her gaze on Sam when speaking.
-You need to lay low until this whole thing blows off. I can try and pull some strings, but you have to stay off the radar for a while. And no one knows about this shack. In fact you wouldn't even have been able to see it if I hadn't told you about it.
-How's that possible? Wait, don't answer that. Is there food in there?
Three hours later, two hunters and a witch are sitting around a wooden table, and the tension can be cut through with a knife. And speaking of knifes, one of the hunters is passing one from hand to hand. The witch is casually swirling her wand between her fingers. And the second hunter is strongly hoping it wouldn't turn into a blood bath.
-You could have at least bought a pie, says Dean.
Hermione narrows her eyes at him.
-You're welcome to go get it. And get recognized by every camera in the damn country, that's exactly what you want, isn't it?
Sam runs his hands through his hair in frustration.
-I thought we agreed to shut up.
The other two keep glaring daggers at each other, but at least they aren't bickering anymore.
Exactly three minutes minutes later, Dean looks like he's about to pick another fight so Sam immediately speaks up.
-Say Hermione, do you have that book you told me about? The one that talks about magic?
Waving her wand, Hermione summons Hogwarts, a History towards them. It lands softly in front of Sam who is looking in awe. The older hunter looks murderous. He gets up, mumbling something that sounds like « fucking witches » and goes to one of the beds at the end of the single room that constitutes the shack.
A few hours later both hunters have fallen asleep, and Hermione is still swirling her wand in her fingers. Feeling restless, she gets out of the shack to stretch her legs. She knows this whole thing is a shapeshifter's fault, but she can't help but feel Azazel is somehow behind it. Who would benefit from having the whole country looking for the Winchesters?
-Can't sleep?
The witch turns to find to Dean, looking around warily. She shakes her head and moves to sit on the hood of her car, a black Jaguar. It was a gift from Harry. The only thing she has brought with her from England, besides her trusted little beaded bag that has seen better days. It's true that could have managed without a vehicle, disapparating from place to place. But being in another situation where she has to constantly keep moving, this car has become her home the way the tent had been theirs when she was on the run with Harry and Ron.
Dean leans against the car, next to her, and fidgets for a while, glacing at her from time to time. Hermione rolls her eyes.
-What's on your mind, Dean?
-Why are you helping us?
She peeks at him briefly.
-Why do you hunt?
-It's the family business.
-Bullshit.
-Excuse you?
He sounds indignant, but the lack of sleep has numbed her.
-Your father is dead, nothing is making you stay in the « family business » as you put it, she says with the accompanying air quotes, so why do you keep hunting?
He doesn't answer her, and she doesn't push. A while passes by, and she's forgotten what they were talking about when he finally replies.
-To help people.
Her phone vibrates in her pocket, she jumps off the car and walks a little further before answering.
-Aaron, hi. Please tell me you've got something.
-I'm sorry, Hermione, but it's beyond my reach. The FBI is on a witch hunt. So to speak.
-There's absolutely nothing you can do? Are you sure?
-Well, legally no. But, and this is off the record, I might have cast a few Confundus here and there.
Hermione sighs deeply.
-Thank you, Aaron, I owe you.
-Yeah you do, big time. I'm sticking my neck out for you here, it better not bite me in the ass. Take care !
She hangs up and starts typing a quick e-mail. She needs to tell Harry what's been happening, and doesn't know when she'll get a hand on an owl.
-So, we off the hook?
-Not exactly, she says distractingly, but my contact there cast a few spells on the computers. The cameras won't identify you with facial recognition, so as long as you don't attract the FBI's attention, you should be okay.
-Wait a second, there's more of you? You infiltrated the feds?
Hermione can feel a fight coming, and she's so tired. She's just spent two weeks following Azazel's trail, only to find out he was toying with her. Purposely sending her on a fool's errand. Now all she wants, nay needs, is full night of sleep. Or at least four hours.
-What's your point, Dean?
-Your kind, you're in the government. Casting spells left and right, what's your endgame?
-Our endgame si protecting fellow wizards and witches, and establishing a liaison with the Muggle government. Our endgame is keeping a peaceful cohabitation. You know, the least you could do is thank me.
-Thank you?
He looks at her as if she's grown a third leg.
-I'm sparing you prison by puting my arse on the line. Do you even know what my Ministry would do to me if they found out I've compromised myself for Muggles ? So yes, the polite thing to do would be saying thank you.
-The polite thing, could you be more British ? he scoffs, ignoring her offended expression. So what if you're using your evil powers for good. They're still evil. And I didn't ask you to do any of it.
She breaths in deeply, plasters a smile on her face, and says calmly :
-Fine, have it your way.
She stomps to the shack and throws the door open with a bang by a wave of her wand, making Sam jump from his bed, eyes wide-open. With another silent wave of her wand, her things start gathering in a small worn out beaded bag.
-What's happening? asks the young hunter. Did they find us?
-Don't know, don't care, she snaps at him. I'm leaving, I'm busy. You figure the rest out by yourselves.
-What did you do? he asks his brother.
Dean enters the shack and yells :
-Why do you think I did something?
-Hermione, slow down.
The witch stops and looked at the younger hunter.
-What?
-Ignore my brother, he was raised by wolves, says Sam, speaking over Dean's cursing.
-They won't find you here, or by facial recognition. I'd still advise you to keep a low profile. You can stay here as long as you want. I have things to take care of.
She turns around, summons her book from Sam's bed, closes her beaded bag and strides towards the door. She spares them one last glance before leaving and says :
-And lose my number, would you?
And there you go, the third chapter. I hope you enjoyed it! If you've got comments, concerns, or just wan a let me know you liked it, you know where the review button is ;)
Lots of love to anyone who followed, favourite and/or left a review. You guys make me smile every time I get a notification!
Btw, so far Hermione is sort of appearing at the end of episodes. That should change soon, if I keep the same plan for my chapters.
Until next chapter, bye!
Y.
