From the deeper shadows across the street from her parents' house, Hermione watched. She'd been waiting a while, making certain she hadn't been followed, even after Tonks had cast a Hominem revelio over the general vicinity. Minutes later, the
young Auror had retreated a few doors down, satisfied that her charge was safe. In that moment, an unfamiliar figure started up the street towards them, head turning repeatedly right, then left, then right again, searching for something.

Backlit by both the fading sunlight and the street lamps that were beginning to flicker on, his face was thrown into nearly impenetrable shadow. The figure was obviously male: tall and lean, and he moved with a rolling kind of saunter, reminding Hermione
vaguely of a cowboy movie she'd seen once, years ago, a long shadow stretching out in front of him. She observed him silently, tucking herself even further back into the darkness of the alley between houses, nearly crouching down to wait for him to
pass.

He didn't pass. Instead, his steps slowed, coming to a stop directly in front of her parents' front door. Again he hesitated, leaning this way and that, checking the house numbers to either side. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder, Hermione caught
Tonks's eye, one house closer than she'd been the last time Hermione had looked. Good, she thought, at least I won't be alone.

When she looked back, the guy was still there, this time pacing up and down the pavement in front of the stair leading to the front door. Suddenly he stopped, holding himself perfectly still, alert and listening. For a terrifying moment, Hermione held
her breath, certain he'd detected her.

Soon enough, though, he shook his head and turned back to the door in front of him. Something seemed to resolve him to action, because this time he ascended the stairs with confidence, and rang the bell.

The disappointment that flashed across her mother's face upon opening the door gave Hermione's heart a little twist, sadness to accompany the anxiety over this stranger showing up at her own home at virtually the same moment as she. The coincidence was
uncanny, and trod on each and every frayed nerve.

He was talking to her mother now, in a low rumble that didn't quite project across the street behind him. When he stopped, he rubbed the back of his neck, and for the longest moment, all was silence. Maybe he's lost, Hermione's thoughts speculated
wildly. Asking directions back to the main road or something. Mum will tell him, and point back the way he came, and I can go home.

Hermione's mother did not point. Instead, she cocked her head in that considering look that her daughter knew only too well: she was analyzing a story for truth. Hermione prayed against all hope that this man wasn't a Death Eater in disguise, that her
mother wouldn't be fooled, or cursed, or killed where she stood. Hermione's wand was suddenly in her hand, the girl ready to spring to her mother's defense at the first sign of distress, the Statute of Secrecy be damned.

Instead, Hermione watched in amazement as her mother smiled that knowing little half-smile of hers and ushered this complete stranger into the house.

A soft touch to her shoulder startled Hermione. Tonks had come back. "Who's that?" she whispered to Hermione, gesturing towards the door as it closed.

"No idea," Hermione said, just as softly, "but I'm definitely going to find out."

The china cup rattled again as the strange young man took another judicious sip of his tea. The poor child was clearly unused to it: he winced every time he set the cup back in its saucer. The first time it had happened, she'd been briefly relieved that
her husband had not pulled down the best china for their daughter's homecoming, but by some miracle, the cup wasn't even chipped.

Dean's mouth twitched, too, every time he took a drink. He had initially turned down both milk and sugar, and despite not enjoying the tea without them, neither abandoned the drink nor changed his mind against drinking it "black".

This was a stubbornness eerily reminiscent of her daughter's.

Moments after Dr. Helene Granger had ushered Dean into the house, her husband had appeared with the tea. His puzzled disappointment at seeing someone other than their daughter had doubtless mirrored her own expression when she'd met Dean at the door.
"Helene," he had said haltingly, "what…?"

Now that their unexpected visitor was inside the house, Helene was getting a better look at him. She had thought him older, because of his voice, but there had been something in the way he held himself that had made her doubt that first impression.

In the better lighting of the sitting room, it was plain to see he was scarcely more than a boy, no older thanhis late teens. A bit of gangliness from a previous growth spurt was still on him, though he had grown past the awkward stage of it already.
His sandy blonde hair was cut quite short, in analmost military style, and despite the beginnings of a sharp chin, his face was still quite pretty, as a child's.

"I suppose we should do some introductions," she said, giving their visitor a somewhat pointed look. Helene resisted the urge to smile at the boy's instant discomfiture.

"Um, yeah," he said eventually, rubbing the back of his neck again, a somewhat endearing nervous gesture. "Mr. Granger, Mrs. Granger," he began, nodding at each of them in turn, "I'm Dean Winchester. I...well, I've been dreaming about your daughter, I
think. Yeah. Her name is Hermione, and well, I had to come meet her, if I could."

"Well, Dean," she replied, still stifling the desire to smile at him, "My name is Helene, and this is Krishan. We're Hermione's parents, as you may have guessed."

"Hermione isn't here yet," Krishan explained, "but we are expecting her any moment. Why don't we get to know each other a bit, before she does?"

If anything, this friendly candor made the boy even more nervous. "Um," he hesitated, his face losing a touch of its color. "Well, Sammy-my brother Sam, he looked up your address-he said you're doctors or something?"

"Dentists, actually," Krishan clarified, as the boy nodded as if remembering. "We have a practice in Shepherds Bush. What do your parents do, Dean?"

He was much more ready with an answer this time. "My dad's a mechanic," he said simply. "My mom...she died when I was a kid. House fire. My dad...sent me out with my brother Sam, he was just a baby. He...couldn't save Mom, though."

"How awful," Krishan gasped, a sorrowful frown creasing his forehead.

"And your brother so young," Helene said. "How much difference in age is there between the two of you?"

"Almost four and a half years," Dean replied, a fond smile creeping across his face.

"You two get on, then?" Helene supplied.

Dean nodded enthusiastically. "I know a lot of people don't always get along with their siblings, but Sammy's a great kid. And wicked smart! I told you he helped me find you, right? Not only that, but he practically figured out I was having soulmate dreams
even before I did. I didn't know anything about this sort of thing, right? Neither did Sammy, but once I told him, he made himself an expert on them, like, the very next day."

The young man paused, clearly ready for some appreciative noises from his audience. Krishan and Helene promptly supplied them, although Helene's expression remained pensive. She didn't have to do the maths to realize just how young Dean had been when
his mother died, nor did she miss the almost parental nature of his regard for Sam.

As Dean continued to extol the virtues of his younger brother, a picture of their life emerged in her mind out of the minutiae, the things left unsaid. Dean's brilliant little brother excelling in school despitebeing moved around a lot, both boys
earning praise from the gruff but beloved "uncle" Bobby, the conspicuous absence of their father in every story that was even remotely positive in tone. The only mention of the man had been the merest allusion, a glancing comment in a story in which
the ingenious Sam had saved Dean from getting in trouble "at home".

She didn't have to be a psychologist to understand what that meant.

Her husband caught her eye during the young man's monologue more than once, the creases around his eyes deepening with every humorous tale. This young man had taken a huge risk, crossing a literal ocean just for the chance to meet their daughter, and
if she were inclined to gamble, Helene would have wagered a tidy sum that the boy's father had no idea where he was. There was a manic edge to the stories, and while Dean's adoration of his brother was genuine, Helene discerned nervousness, perhaps
even guilt in the young man's otherwise buoyant demeanor. What the cause of it was, she could do no more than speculate at present. Every hypothesis that presented itself, however, was less encouraging than the last.

Dean's flow of speech was interrupted by the chiming of the mantelpiece clock striking nine. It was now long past a reasonable time for Hermione to arrive, if everything had gone according to plan. Uncertain how much they could say in front of Dean, the
Grangers, by unspoken mutual decision, resumed the conversation as best they could.

Dean, however, was beginning to get nervous. He poured another cup of tea for himself, obviously for something to do, considering how little he'd enjoyed the first. He made to take a sip, then abruptly put the cup down again in favor of flipping a spoon
back and forth in his fingers. Suddenly he stopped, put the spoon down, and forced himself to stop the jittery movements.

"I can't think what's keeping her," Krishan said apologetically, as the young man fought valiantly to quash another bout of fidgeting. "We hadn't a definite time, but I would have expected her to be home by now." The worry that something had happened
to her on the way remained unspoken.

This didn't seem to matter, however. Dean picked up their concern immediately. "What's wrong?" he asked, body tensed defensively, hand shooting to his back pocket. "Is she in trouble? Do we need to go look for her?"

Again, Helene and her husband exchanged a look. "She has a friend bringing her home," she said in an effort to placate the boy. "She won't be alone." At this, Dean relaxed a little, although his hand moved only slowly away from his back pocket. Briefly,
Helene wondered if he had a wand hidden there.

With practiced ease, Helene steered the conversation back to the mundanities of life: the dental practice the Doctors Granger operated, the move into the neighborhood just before Hermione had been born, visiting family in Delhi and Paris. Despite
leaning back into the sofa, Dean still seemed to be on alert. Helene had been hoping it was simply nerves, that the delay in Hermione's promised arrival was simply becoming difficult to bear.

Then Dean froze, holding up a hand at them. "Is there anyone else in the house?" he whispered.

Mutely, they both shook their heads. Dean sat with his head tilted to one side, listening intently. Krishan's eyebrows had disappeared under the thick hatch of his black hair, and Helene herself was straining to hear anything. There was no sound from
the front door.

Dean turned, slowly rising from his seat into a half crouch, tensed to spring. His hand was in his back pocket again when they heard it: a footstep in the hall, coming from the back of the house.

For one strained moment, no one breathed. Then, in a whirl of movement, Dean swiveled around with the speed of an attacking viper, a small silver knife appearing in his hand. "Who are you?" he demanded of the dark hallway. "Show yourself!"

Out of the shadows stepped a figure, wand leveled directly at Dean, the ends of her dark hair standing out straight and crackling.

A/N: GUESS WHO!

I did not expect this chapter to take so very long, but life got in the way and work required my attention, and all other similar things that may be the hallmark of summers to come for quite a while. This has been my first summer as a freelancer, and
also with a school-age child at home for most of the summer. It has been busy and quite lacking in alone time for writing!

Summer's end is, however, a mere three weeks away, and I hope to return to a more regular update schedule soon. I will still be aiming for one chapter every two weeks, I think, but I would also like to have some buffer built up by next summer (no matter
what I'm writing by then), so I will make no concrete plans or promises just yet.

I can't begin to express how very happy I am with the reception of this story. I have been writing on this website for more than three years now, and I was quite used to getting only one or two notifications per chapter for the longest while. Apparently,
writing a soulmate AU is good for web traffic! I'm having quite a lot of fun with this story still, and your page views, follows, favorites and reviews all tell me that you are having fun with it, too.

Although I most definitely have a beta, I want to let you all know that spelling, punctuation and grammar comments are always quite welcome, as are speculations and questions about what will happen next. I'm writing this story as I go, so, who
knows? Your comments could end up influencing the story!

Thank you, again, for reading, favoriting and following this little tale, even though I am less than regular with updates and entirely too fond of cliffhangers. I appreciate every single one of you.

~Jo