"I can't believe we're doing this." Dean complained, folding his arms and looking mulish.
Sam, predictably, ignored him, setting the phone in the centre of the table and turning the speaker on so they could all hear it ring. Ellen and Bobby, seated side by side next to them just rolled their eyes.
"You ain't got a better idea, boy, so shut it." Ellen ordered and Dean huffed into silence with a scowl.
"Miss Granger?" A shrill voice blurted from the phone, startling them.
Sam scowled when they all looked to him and took the lead.
"Uh no...I'm Sam Winchester. I'm looking for Harry Potter."
There was a pause.
"Are you the tall one or the angry one?" The man on the phone asked suspiciously.
"The...er tall one." Sam bit his lip, trying not to laugh. Dean would probably have been mad about that but he was too busy listening to the silence coming from upstairs.
"Oh ok. I'll fetch Auror Potter for you."
The phone was set down audibly and they listened to the faint conversation drifting through the loudspeaker.
"Sir?"
"What!"
"There's a man on the phone for you."
"Tell him to piss off!" Harry snapped.
"But...!"
"No, Dennis."
"Harry! It's about Hermione!"
"WHAT!"
Someone scrabbled at the phone.
"Winchester?" Harry demanded.
"Potter." Dean snapped.
The wizard heaved a long sigh.
"Hi." He murmured. "Is she..."
"She's fine." Sam told him. "Sleeping upstairs."
Dean didn't bother to correct him. Unconscious was probably more accurate.
"Bugger." Harry sighed, static crackling across the phone line. "Listen, I'm sorry about earlier."
"Ain't us you should be apologising to." Bobby scolded.
"I see." Harry paused. "And, uh, who exactly is it I'm addressing?"
"Bobby Singer, Ellen Harvelle and you know Sam and Dean."
Harry just grunted.
"You gonna introduce yourself boy?" Ellen demanded.
The wizard replied with just the right amount of obedience to tell Sam that he'd met women like Ellen before.
"My name is Harry Potter. I'm one of the Senior Aurors within the Ministry for Magic's Magical Law Enforcement Squad. I also head up the Hunter Division." He coughed. "Hermione's my best friend."
Ellen kicked the Winchesters when they glowered at that.
"She's allowed to friends outsida you two idiots." She told them, with a slight edge of amusement in her voice.
"Hunter Division?" Bobby demanded. "'Mione didn't tell us nothin' 'bout that."
Harry gave an embarrassed laugh.
"It's a formality." He explained. "The Department was formed to give Hermione legality to operate within Foreign Territories. This way she's legal for cross Atlantic transportation and uh...creature hunting."
Dean rolled his eyes in disgust.
"She's got an angel on her reference list, man. What more permission does she need?"
Harry didn't seem to know what to say to that.
"Did you call for something specific?" He asked finally.
"Yes." Ellen glared at the phone. "We need to know how to take care of Hermione."
"She should be in the Hospital." Harry complained.
"Yeah, that ain't really on the table right now." Dean growled and Harry muttered something that sounded like, "Stubborn ass" under his breath. "How do we look after her here?"
Harry remained silent.
"You don't know, do you?" Sam asked, exasperated.
"Hey, I'm an Auror not a Healer." Harry retorted tiredly. "I'll go ask and get back to you."
"Thanks."
"And, Dean?"
"What?" Dean snapped.
The other man's voice turned cold and angry.
"You even think about hurting her and I've got an entire Auror squad of men who are entirely devoted to her. Got it?"
Dean didn't flush but it was a close thing.
"Don't know what you're talking about." He replied stiffly, ignoring everyone's knowing looks.
"Of course you don't." Harry grumbled.
"Did they write this with a quill?" Bobby demanded irritably.
Dean shrugged and didn't point out that the paperwork in question had been dropped off by owl.
"Probably. 'Mione uses them all the time. How's it look?"
Bobby sighed, leafing through the sheets of parchment.
"It's all pretty standard stuff. Say she'll regain her memories in little bits as somethin' reminds her and through dreams an' crap. So we're looking at some pretty serious night terrors, which means that you won't be getting a lot of sleep for a while. Sorry kid."
Dean waved that aside, grateful that neither Ellen nor Bobby made a complaint about their unusual sleeping arrangements.
Bobby continued with a frown.
"Apparently if she tries to remember too much at once she'll black out. It's like a self defence mechanism, I guess. She physically can't remember more than she can cope with without her head shutting down and rebooting. Sides from that, she'd underweight, pretty seriously actually..."
"Not an issue." Ellen broke in, staring at the cooker with what looked like a dangerous level of determination.
Bobby grinned at her fondly and no Dean did not want to know when that became a thing.
"Looks like our biggest problem is bed rest. She needs it. A lot of it too." Bobby scowled. "I've got not idea how she even managed to get here. She should've died or lost an arm or..."
"Don't sound so disappointed," Ellen complained, glaring at the older man.
"Right. Thing is, 'Mione don't take to bed rest so well, does she?"
"That's putting it lightly." Dean muttered.
"She can be off bed rest in a week or so. There are some potions they've suggested, but I don't think I could brew them without 'Mione." Bobby scowled. "Boys, she ain't gonna be able to hunt for months at least. And that's just physically. You two have gotta face facts on this one."
Sam sighed.
"If she wants to keep hunting that's up to her." He decided and Dean nodded in agreement. "We won't stop her and anyway..." he shared a long look with his brother and Dean nodded again. "I think we've earned a holiday, right? We can stick close to home for a bit?"
"Sounds good to me." Bobby sighed. "Now we just need to wait for her to wake up."
Hermione wasn't waking up. It was a full twenty four hours since she'd appeared in front of Dean and she hadn't stirred once. Which they could say for certain because the chair by her bedside had been constantly occupied .
"Where am I?"
Dean fell off his chair and somehow managed to take Sam with him, landing in a tangle of limbs on the floor. Deep brown eyes stared down at them in confusion from the side of the bed and Hermione swallowed weakly.
"'Mione?" Sam whispered.
"Where am I?" She repeated, clearly disorientated.
Dean had to clear his throat twice before he could actually speak.
"Bobby's house. You came here from the hospital, remember?"
Hermione frowned.
"Harry...Harry was here?"
He nodded.
"Yeah. That was yesterday."
"He...they..." One hand pressed against her temple and Sam moved suddenly, pulling her fingertips away from her head.
"Hey," He grinned nervously. "Don't think about it, ok?"
"Sam..." She struggled upright under the blankets. "You're all right?"
Sam nodded, not protesting when she grabbed his face turning it left and right. Dean got to his feet, sighing.
"What happened?" Hermione asked at last, apparently satisfied that Sam wasn't about to die.
Dean managed to drag his eyes away from the scar on her cheek and shrugged.
"Only thing you need to worry about is getting better, okay?"
It took some time to explain the situation to Hermione and she insisted on reading over the notes from the hospital herself. That triggered a blackout as she tried to remember what happened which went down on the list of things Dean never wanted to see again. They took it in turns sitting with her, although it was usually Sam or Dean. Neither brother wanted to risk letting her out of their sight. Mostly because they were afraid that like so many things in their life, this wasn't a happy ending.
"You're wearing your amulet."
Dean jerked, staring down at her. Those were the first words she'd said since her black out. She wasn't even looking at him, instead staring out the window.
"Yeah, I found it. How come you had it?"
"Sam gave it to me." She turned to him, expression worryingly blank. "I'm glad you're wearing it."
"'Mione, do you remember much about...you know?"
Hermione shrugged.
"The last thing I remember clearly is you and Sam walking into the building in Detroit."
Dean gaped at her and she offered him a bleak smile.
"I can't have forgotten anything important though, can I?"
Slowly, incredibly slowly, Hermione came back to herself.
She started having conversations, reading some of the endless pile of books Ellen had brought her. Her wand was confiscated, because Dean was worried that she'd exhaust herself using magic. The argument that caused was the closest he'd seen to her old self in weeks.
"Why'd you do it?" Sam asked quietly that Thursday.
"Does it matter?" She whispered.
"Yes!" He turned earnest eyes on her. "You saved my life, you saved the world even...I mean, I know I was too weak to stop him but..."
"It wasn't that." She interrupted. "You could've done it. I ran the odds, Sam." One of her hands lifted to sketch numbers into the air. "There was a thirty percent chance you could've taken control. There was an fifty percent chance he regained control and destroyed the world anyway, Dean included. Fifty percent chance you opened the cage and managed to throw yourself in. Of that fifty there was a twenty five percent chance someone got you out. Of that twenty five, there was twenty percent chance Lucifer got out too. Twenty percent chance you died immediately after being released. Five percent chance you killed yourself. Fourteen percent chance the angels killed you. One percent chance Dean, having gone insane, killed you! Forty percent chance that you didn't get out whole. That some part of you, your soul, Sam, got left in the cage as Lucifer's chew toy." He flinched backwards but she continued mercilessly. "A nineteen percent chance that you were rendered completely insane by what you saw and spent the rest of your life mentally incapacitated. There was a one percent chance that you got out, in one piece and lived!"
"And what about you?" Sam, whispered, very pale.
Hermione sighed.
"There's an important difference between us. I wasn't planning on coming back."
"What? Did you think we'd just leave you there?" Sam spluttered.
She leaned back against her pillows, not quite glaring but closer than Sam was comfortable with.
"Honestly..." She shrugged. "Yes."
Sam choked.
"What?" He whispered.
Hermione shrugged, eyes strangely cold.
"I don't know how I got out Sam, and I don't know how, whoever it was, managed it without releasing the Archangels, which is what should have happened. You knew the risks yourself, Sam. You told Dean to leave you there."
"Yeah...but..."
She shook her head.
"No. The risk was the same. You couldn't risk the end of the world for one woman, Sam. It's not something you can justify." She sighed. "So yes, I expected both of you to leave me there."
Sam stormed off shortly afterwards and Hermione leaned back against her pillows with a sigh.
Dean wasn't talking to her. After the initial explanation, the hunter had lapsed into weary silences and long, looks broadcasting an emotion Hermione couldn't even begin to explain.
"Talk to me." She pleaded after the third day of silence. "Please!"
"And say what?" Dean asked hollowly.
"Anything." She frowned at him. "What happened? Why are you so angry? What's wrong, Dean?"
"You want to know what's wrong?" He asked tightly.
"Yes!" Hermione waved one hand through the air, ignoring the spike of pain that went along with every major movement she made.
"What's wrong?" He repeated angrily. "What's wrong is you taking a swan dive into Hell! What's wrong is you going toe to toe against Lucifer for me!"
"What?"
"Cas told us everything." He snapped and she flinched.
"Dean..."
"It wasn't even supposed to be you." He added angrily. "It was supposed to be Sam!"
"I worked it out." She told him quietly and Dean spun away, furious. She pressed on regardless. "It had to be me. It was the only way Sam came out of it in one piece! Dean, I don't even know if I managed to do the spell properly! He could still be in danger, but he's in less danger now!" She thumped her fist against the mattress. "Be honest Dean, who would you rather you lost? Me, or your brother?"
"Don't you fuckin' ask me that!" Dean thundered, turning back to glare at her, but she just stared back impassively.
"You need Sam," Hermione continued, unrelenting. "And..."
"I need you too!" Dean bellowed.
Hermione looked at him as he towered over her, frowning slightly.
"What?" She rasped.
"In the last year of crap, fuck, since I got out of Hell even, you are the best thing that's happened to me!" He raked his hands through his hair, forcing the blonde strands on end. "I have done everything to drive you away. Everything, 'Mione! I'm a jerk, I yell, I fight, I shot you in fuckin' shoulder. I got your family killed!" He cried and Hermione flinched backwards, paling. "And you still took that jump because of some stupid prophecy that our dumb-ass angel told you! Because he told you I needed saving!" He glared at her, green eyes blazing with emotion. "This family is held together with duck tape and safety pins, 'Mione, me and Sam can't stand each other half the time and you are the only reason the six of us are still standin'! I didn't need saving, I needed you to be safe."
"What are you saying?" Hermione breathed, eyes wide.
He stared at her, poised on the edge of something terrifying, before slumping, eyes slipping closed as he sighed.
"Nothing, 'Mione. Just forget it."
He headed for the door and Hermione almost jerked from the whiplash.
"No, Dean, wait." She pleaded.
He paused but didn't turn around and Hermione did her best to explain.
"I didn't do it for the prophecy. I told..." Her voice faltered for a moment. "I told Adam once...I wasn't trying to save the world, just you. And I'd do it again, Dean." She pressed, sincere. "In an instant. You're my... friend and I'd do anything to make you happy."
Dean glared over his shoulder at her.
"Then how about you don't die!" He laughed bitterly. "That would make me happy! I guess he was right." He added in an afterthought.
"Who?" Hermione asked, utterly bewildered.
"Me." Dean groaned. "He said the bad was worth the good. The whole world had ended around him and he told me to my face to not change anything because whatever it was he had, was worth it. Was worth losing Sam and Cas and Bobby and Ellen and everyone else to Lucifer." He scowled. "Guess we'll never know, right?"
"Are you mad I didn't let the world end?" Hermione demanded, now completely confused.
The hunter just left and Hermione scowled, shuffling over in her blankets so she could get to her feet and storm after him. She would not let go of this just because he could walk away and she couldn't!
"You take one step out of that bed and I'll tie you down!" Dean yelled from somewhere in the house.
Hermione paused, bare toes an inch from the worn carpet.
"You wouldn't dare!" Hermione hissed.
Dean's loud, mocking laughter echoed up the stairwell.
"Just try me, Princess."
"Kinky bastard!" Hermione muttered, ignoring the answering snickers from Sam who was walking up the stairs. "Stubborn Winchesters." She added settling back against her pillows with a huff.
Sam stuck his head around the door.
"You love us." He teased and ducked the book she threw at him.
"Who got me out?" Hermione asked Ellen. The older woman was brushing the multitude of tangles out of Hermione's hair. Without its original length to weigh it down it was like being followed around by a particularly static cloud. Hermione was having horrific flashbacks to her first year at Hogwarts.
Ellen shrugged.
"We don't know. That darn angel had some prophetic dream, grabbed the boys and then the next thing I know you're back in England."
"So, no one knows?"
"Cas might." Ellen ran the brush through a particularly stubborn snarl at the nape of Hermione's neck. "But we haven't seen 'im since, so he ain't talkin."
Despite Hermione's outwardly cheery appearance, she wasn't fooling anyone. In the moments when she wasn't engaged in arguments with the brothers, her face became drawn and her right hand shook intermittently. Her nightmares lingered in her eyes far longer than she admitted to Dean, who took to sleeping on the spare bed in her room. He couldn't share a bed with her, not after she almost choked him to death thinking he was a hallucination. Poor Sam had been banished to the sofa downstairs. She would have episodes where something would catch her eye or jog her memory and she just collapse as the memory rode itself out.
Hermione made it through a week and a half of bed rest before she rebelled, which was six days longer than anyone had thought she'd actually cooperate.
Dean swore when she appeared that morning, hanging onto the banister for dear life as she shuffled down, one step at a time. She was dressed in her own jeans and the tails of one of his shirts stuck out messily from under her jumper.
"Not a word." She hissed, sitting down on the bottom step for a rest.
Dean didn't speak just handed her the mug of tea he'd been about to bring upstairs for her, waiting for her to regain her colour.
"Ta." Hermione took a deep drink and sighed, blowing steam out in front of her. "I need to go see Harry and Ron." She told him decisively. Her eyes were still shadowed, he noticed, but her grip on what was real and what wasn't was definitely better. She no longer eyed Dean with suspicion every time she saw him.
Dean, still not saying a word, went and got Ellen. He wanted back up for this argument.
Hermione laughed bitterly when she saw who he'd brought with him.
"I need to go, Dean and this isn't something I can put off."
Ellen folded her arms.
"If you think I'm gonna let you get yourself killed just because you were dumb enough to tire yourself out, you've got another thought coming, missy."
"I am almost twenty one..." Hermione frowned. "I think. Twenty two? Anyway, I am more than capable of visiting my friends."
Ellen gave her an unimpressed glare.
"An' just how're you going to get there? You barely made it down the stairs today."
"Harry's picking me up." Hermione took another long gulp of tea, which was fairly impressive because Dean was sure the drink was still near scalding. "I got Sam to call him."
"Leave me out of this!" Sam yelled from the living room, prompting everyone to roll their eyes.
"He'll be here soon."
"'Mione you're not well enough yet..." Ellen protested, before turning to Dean, "Tell her, would you?"
Dean met Hermione's eyes, which was something even Sam hesitated before doing these days. There were horrors hiding there that he'd never, ever wanted her to experience.
"You coming back?" He asked roughly.
Hermione blinked, a slight frown creasing her forehead.
"Yes." She murmured, not looking away. Her eyes were questioning now, and slightly confused. "By this afternoon, I expect. It'll be a short visit. I have amends to make." She added when Dean opened his mouth to ask.
That got Ellen's attention.
"How'd you reckon?" She snapped.
Hermione snorted, rather inelegantly. Dean figured she'd been picking up on Bobby's bad habits.
"I was selfish, Ellen." She told them, voice still lower than Dean remembered it being. "Harry and Ron deserve better than what I've been giving them. They're my friends and I've treated them horribly."
Dean disagreed with that and would have said so, but if he started another argument with Hermione, Ellen would kill him.
There was a knock at the door and Hermione stared pointedly at Dean until he groaned and went to open it.
Harry Potter looked nervous, which Dean took some small sense of pleasure from. He grimaced at the Hunter before stepping past him into the hallway, taking in the layout of the house in a way that told Dean he was used to combat. He was dressed in jeans and a jumper but, much like Hermione, he looked older than he should have, even wearing Chuck's.
"Hermione!" Harry cried, leaping forward.
For a short man, the wizard moved fast and he almost careened into Hermione, who hissed in pain as he hugged her tightly.
"Watch it!" Dean snapped, grabbing Harry's collar and yanking him backwards with very little effort. Sam, who'd rolled off the sofa when the door opened, glowered down at the wizard.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" He bitched, as Ellen helped Hermione to her feet. "She's not healed yet!"
Harry winced.
"Sor..."
"Don't, Harry." Hermione waved his apology aside impatiently and Dean released his grip on the younger man. "It's fine."
There was a moment of tense silence as the two friends stared at each other before Harry flinched and looked away.
"I've got a portkey." He mumbled, straightening his glasses. "Ron's waiting for us at Grimmauld, I figured you wouldn't be up to seeing the whole family today."
Hermione nodded listlessly and held out one hand to Dean.
"I know you've got it." She told him and Dean smirked at her for a moment.
"You sure about that, princess?" He teased.
She huffed.
"Dean..."
The hunter laughed quietly and pulled her wand out of his pocket, handing it over carefully. Behind his glasses, Harry's eyes bugged comically.
"Don't over do it, okay?" He warned.
Hermione rolled her eyes and sighed heavily.
"You can be worse than my mother." She complained, before hooking two fingers into the mug the wizard held out. "I'll be back soon." She promised and then vanished with a small flash.
Ellen muttered something obscene under her breath and wandered off, leaving the brothers standing in the hallway.
"You two make my teeth ache," Sam teased, smirking.
Dean rounded on him.
"What?" He demanded, challenging him to even repeat that.
Sam started to snicker.
"You're freaking..." He spluttered, grin almost splitting his face. "...Adorable!"
Dean blinked twice, blushed hard and then raised his fist in warning.
"Run." He said mildly and Sam tensed, breaking into a full sprint out the front door when Dean lunged for him.
"Aw...Dean! I didn't know you liked the sappy stuff!" He called over his shoulder.
"YOU'RE DEAD MEAT, SAMMY!"
Hermione landed badly in the Grimmauld Place and had to get Harry to help her to her feet. The mug they'd used as a portkey was shattered into several pieces on the pavement below and Hermione tried not to think of how symbolic that was.
"They're...overprotective." Harry offered, looking rather embarrassed.
Hermione shrugged.
"If you think that's bad you should see how Dean acts about Sam. It's a miracle he's allowed to go out on his own sometimes."
The two friends avoided each others gaze for a while, Harry scuffing at the ground with his trainer. It'd been a long time since she'd seen him dressed in muggle gear, she realised, and tried not to feel bitter about that.
"You're very close to them." Harry said at last and she couldn't help but realise that they were having this conversation out of the hearing of certain red-heads. "He had your wand." He added, looking amazed.
Hermione shrugged. For most wizards and witches wands were a very personal thing, the risk of losing a wand's allegiance too great to hand them to just anyone. She knew what it looked like to a wizard for Dean, a muggle no less, to have been holding onto her wand.
"I trust him." She murmured, because it was true.
Harry groaned and rubbed at his eyes, forcing his glasses down his nose. "Don't you think it's time you pull back a little?" He suggested. "Got some space?"
Hermione sighed heavily, before sitting down on the curb, nudging at a discarded crisp packet with her foot.
"I can't." She murmured, and Harry hissed out a long breath.
"Yes, you can!" He exclaimed. "You're done, Hermione. You've given them everything. There's nothing stopping you from walking away!"
"There's everything stopping me." Hermione rasped, hating how her voice caught in her throat.
"Hermione..."
"You don't get it." She cut across him, and Harry just glared at her, before looking away with a wince. "We're all so broken, I don't know if I can survive without them." She told him truthfully.
"You're not broken." Harry defended.
Hermione felt anger rising in her and she glowered up at the wizard.
"Look me in the eyes and tell me that!" She snarled and Harry flinched. "I went to Hell, Harry. I died and unlike you there wasn't a friendly guide waiting for me to make the right choice. Just two extremely angry archangel's who had an eternity's worth of issues to work off and only one thing they could agree on. Hurting me!"
"Hermione..." Harry pleaded, looking shocked.
"Sam and Dean are the only things keeping me sane right now, Harry!" she cried.
"Being that dependant on them...That's not healthy," Harry crouched by her side, grasping her hand tightly. "You know that."
She groaned in frustration.
"I know. Believe me, I know." Hermione breathed out heavily. "Look." She hissed. "Sam and Dean...they will always be Sam and Dean. Even if they both got married tomorrow and settled down and had families, they will always be Sam and Dean. There is no Dean and there is no Sam. There's just them as a pair and you have to get used to the idea. And then Castiel and I came along and it wasn't just the two of them any more, but because they don't know how to function as normal human beings," Harry made a noise of agreement which cut off abruptly when Hermione glared at him. "And because we went through the Apocalypse together and because we lived out of each others pockets for a year, there is no Hermione any more!"
"What are you saying?" Harry asked warily.
"I'm not just Hermione!" Hermione cried. "I'm Hermione and Sam, or Hermione and Dean, or Hermione and Dean and Castiel and Sam and occasionally Bobby and Ellen..." She stumbled to a halt, looking exasperated. "Do you know what I mean?"
"No." Harry wrapped his arms around her, this time much gentler and Hermione froze before burying her head in his shoulder and sobbing. "No, I don't, but I'm so sorry, Hermione. So, so sorry!"
They stayed like that until the street behind them rippled and Ronald stepped out from seemingly nowhere, taking in the scene on the pavement silently and joining them. Harry passed Hermione over wordlessly and the red haired wizard held her as she cried, repeating over and over again the words that Harry had used.
"I'm sorry." She pleaded, begging him to understand. "I'm so, so sorry."
"It's okay." Ron promised, but she didn't think he knew what she was apologising for.
Nothing was really resolved that afternoon and certainly not Hermione's conscience. Ron and Harry had been ecstatic to see her, although she'd had to deflect Ron's questions about how she'd ended up in St Mungo's. Harry had told him she'd been attacked by a magical creature and Ron, wonderful, benevolent Ron...hadn't pushed the question. Harry returned her to Sioux Falls as promised and Hermione stumbled towards the front door, pausing for a moment to frown at the large imprint in the dirt where it appeared someone had felled a giant.
"We'll talk again soon." Harry called out and Hermione nodded without turning around, instead opening the door and stepping into the cool shade of Bobby's home.
"How'd it go?" Dean whispered.
The night was still around them and, although the remnants of her nightmare lingered in the scratches she clawed into her throat and the speed of Dean's heartbeat under her ear, everything was peaceful and still.
"It was..." Hermione sighed, ducking her head and focusing on the quiet beat which was slowly returning to a regular level. It drowned out the screams in her head, although she wasn't sure if they were a memory or simply the lingering echo from mere minuets ago, trapped on endless repeat inside her skull.
"Better." She managed.
Dean grunted.
"I know what you mean." He murmured, arms wrapped tight around her. She supposed that he did.
"I promised to call more often." Hermione shrugged. "It's a start."
Dean made a wordless agreement and they watched the moon sink below the horizon out the window.
"Did I ever say thank you?" He whispered as the sky started to streak with colour.
"What for?" Hermione peered up at him, but the hunter was staring out into the dawn.
"For saving me." Dean shuddered. "You saved Sammy," He breathed and only someone who knew Dean incredibly well would be able to grasp the sheer volume of emotion behind that statement. "You saved my brother from Hell!" He whispered and Hermione shifted so she could pull his face down into the crook of her neck and hold onto him. Dean didn't cry and Hermione didn't think he ever would, but he gasped and shuddered as years worth of worry fell away.
"He's going to be fine." Hermione lied and Dean nodded, pulling away to look out the window again.
It was a lie they both chose to believe.
"Have you seen my phone?" Hermione rather suddenly asked over breakfast the next morning.
Bobby and Ellen were out for the day, so it was just the boys and Hermione lurking around the house. There was still no word from Castiel.
Sam glanced up from his bowl of muesli and stared balefully at Dean. Hermione pushed a mug of coffee towards him. The younger Winchester was practically non-verbal until his first dose of caffeine.
"It's in the car." Dean murmured, looking both grim and embarrassed. "I'll go and look for it later. You're gonna need to charge it though."
Hermione frowned.
"Okay. Can I use your charger, Sam? I promise I'd call Harry."
"Sure thing."
Hermione didn't actually turn her phone on until that evening when she and Sam were sitting in front of Bobby's ancient TV watching rubbish on one of the cable channels.
"Aren't you bored?" Hermione asked as she entered her pin code. There was a suspicious crack in the phone's casing which looked as though it had been thrown against something hard.
"How'd you mean?" Sam queried looking up from his bag of liquorice which he'd claimed as his reward for going food shopping with Bobby. Dean had taken one look at the sweet and scowled before wandering out to the yard to do some repair work.
She watched as the phone located signal and began to load up properly. It buzzed as unread messages appeared on the display.
"You're not hunting at the moment."
"We're on holiday." Sam announced with a grin. Hermione basked in it as she opened her first message. Sam's full smiles were rare but getting more common by the day.
Hermione where are you?
HP
Hermione deleted that and the other thirteen which were from Harry, before moving on to the next one.
"We don't do holidays." She murmured frowning.
Herms, mum wants to no if your coming to tea?
RW
Delete.
Hermione groaned reading through the rest of the messages until she came to one from an unknown number.
Granger, we need to talk.
"Me and Dean used to go to Vegas every year." Sam countered, offering her the bag which she politely declined. "Get really drunk. Didn't go last year obviously."
"Mmm." Hermione murmured. Thirty seven missed calls and no less than fourteen voice mail messages. The majority of the missed calls were from Harry, with a few from unknown numbers and, strangely enough, seven from Dean. She called her voice mail service and listened to the first message.
"Hey, Hermione. Listen, we're starting to get seriously worried. Please call me to let me know what's going on. It's Harry by the way."
Hermione sighed and deleted that as, on screen, a screaming housewife hurled insults at her alcoholic husband.
"'ermione, it ees Fluer. Victor Krum azked me to tell you 'e ees playing Quidditch in America for a while. 'e wanted to know if you would like tickets."
That was...interesting, Hermione decided and saved that message. The next six were from Harry which she deleted after confirming that they were nothing more than increasingly worried demands for information. After that were several from Dean which consisted of nothing more than a sharp intake of breath before they cut out. Hermione checked the date on the messages and was confused to find that they were left after her fall into...
What do you think Michael?...The heart...or shall we play scrabble with her skin?
Please no!
The TV changed to rapid fire Spanish and the different housewife started throwing plates, jerking Hermione from her memory induced stupor. Next to her Sam, scoffed, amused by the telenovella and she sighed, grateful he hadn't noticed.
"Listen, Granger...I can't believe I'm doing this." There was a heavy sigh and a rush of static. "I just...You said you were in dangerous creature control, didn't you? I have a problem and you're the only one I can think of who would have the necessary expertise. Please call me back...I will reimburse you for your efforts. It's Malfoy, in case you didn't know. Draco Malfoy."
Hermione sat bolt upright in her chair and clicked to the next message.
"Granger I don't know if you got my last message. I really need your help. I'll pay anything you ask, I just need you to call me. This thing is coming, soon. Please, call me back."
Sam frowned at her.
"Weird message?"
"Hush." Hermione murmured, moving to the next recording, left almost a week ago.
"Granger, I never knew you'd be so petty as to ignore me actually begging for help. Some hero you are. It's coming soon and I don't know what to do and you know what? I don't need your bloody help. I can manage on my own."
Next message.
"Granger, it's Malfoy. I need your help, I'll do anything, just please."
"What's happened?" Sam asked, taking in her expression.
"Hell froze over." Hermione murmured, before pressing the button that would let her return the call.
"Granger?"
Draco Malfoy sounded exhausted and worried, but Hermione ignored that.
"Who sold their soul?" She snapped angrily.
"Oh thank, Merlin." Draco sighed.
"You can't go!" Dean bellowed.
Hermione hoisted her duffle bag onto her shoulder and sighed. She hoped it wasn't obvious just how much even that tired her.
"Who else is qualified?" She murmured. "No wizard would go near a former Death Eater and no hunter would go near a wizard. There's just me, Dean."
"You're in no state to hunt!" He protested.
Silently, Hermione agreed with him. Flights of stairs were a challenge at the moment, let alone fighting a cross-roads demon. And mentally...she wasn't quite there yet. Still searching for marbles under the proverbial sofa.
"Which is why you're coming with me." Hermione shuddered. "I should probably tell you...Malfoy and I, we have a history."
That got Dean's attention and the hunter paused, staring at her.
"What sort?" He growled suspiciously.
"Nothing like that." She scoffed. "We went to school together."
Dean froze and Hermione realised that, as far as the Winchesters knew, her school days were synonymous with death and misery. Unfortunately in this case that wasn't far wrong.
"You know deals can't be broken." Dean shouldered his own bag, reaching into his coat pocket for the strands of charms she usually wore around her neck. He slipped them over her head wordlessly, before taking her bag from her. "Believe me, we've tried."
"Doesn't mean I won't try." Hermione murmured, tightening the knife sheath at her side and feeling Simiel's reassuring weight against her hip.
Sam stumbled into the room, scowling at them.
"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" He complained.
"Yes." Hermione sighed heavily. "One muggle is more than enough. Besides I need you to call Harry in case I don't come back."
"Is that likely?" Sam asked weakly, looking worried.
"No." Dean snapped.
Hermione held out the portkey instead of answering.
Malfoy Manor hadn't changed since her last visit.
Dean and Hermione took in the immense building and landscaped gardens before Hermione's knees gave out beneath her.
"Whoah!" Dean hauled her upright again, taking in her over bright eyes and flushed cheeks. "Maybe this isn't a good idea."
"I never wanted to come back here." Hermione whispered, not seeming to hear him. Regaining her composure she lead the way through the ornate iron gates and up the gravel path. The sun was bright in the sky and large peacocks browsed across emerald green lawns and artfully kept flowerbeds. Dean glowered, feeling unusually out of place among so much lavish luxury.
The main doors opened before they reached them and a man slipped out of the crack and into the sunlight. He was as tall as Dean, but lean with it, messy blond hair hanging around a gaunt and worried face.
"Granger." He greeted stiffly.
Hermione flinched.
"Malfoy." She managed, voice rough.
The two stared at each other.
"What happened to you?" Malfoy whispered, looking shocked as he took in her appearance. Hermione was still under weight and the scar on her face stood out clearly against her pale skin.
"Hell." Hermione told him succinctly and Dean rested one hand on her shoulder, waiting until she drew in a long breath before he let go.
"Is that a muggle?" The wizard demanded, something that wasn't quite a sneer on his face.
Hermione stiffened.
"His name is Dean." She snapped. "Dean Winchester. He's here for moral support."
Dean didn't think it was possible, but the man paled even further.
"I'm..sorry." He breathed, looking shaken. "I didn't realise what...I forgot."
"I'm glad you could." Hermione snapped and they stood there in a tense silence until Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry, Malfoy. I came here to help. Tell me what's going on?"
"It's not my story to tell." Malfoy rubbed at his forehead. "I'm sorry, Granger, but you're going to have to come inside."
Hermione pulled Dean forward so he was standing next to her and shrugged.
"I'm a big girl. Kill my own monsters and everything."
That made the other wizard laugh, albeit bitterly.
"I suppose you do. Come on."
"What's going on?" Dean hissed as they stepped through the large doors and into the dark foyer.
"Leave it." Hermione muttered.
Dean did, but only because Hermione appeared to have paled even further and had her free hand clapped tightly over the scar on her arm. It didn't take a genius to begin to make connections.
The foyer was done in more marble than Dean had ever seen in his life and he eyed the gold fittings incredulously, quietly wondering how much he could get for one of those lamps. Next to him, Hermione huffed out a smile, probably knowing exactly what he was thinking. Malfoy led them up the stairs, pausing in front of another set of double doors.
"Maybe we should go to the parlour." He murmured. Hermione swallowed loudly and Dean realised she was shaking.
"Sounds good." He called, wrapping one arm around Hermione's shoulders and pulling her close. The wizard turned to the left, heading for a smaller door, which opened silently. This room was brighter, with wide windows which looked out onto the gardens and cream walls, accented with green furnishings.
"I'll be right back." Malfoy whispered and vanished.
Dean steered Hermione towards the nearest chair.
"Sit." He ordered, when she looked rebellious. He tossed their bags to the ground, crouching down so he was at eye level with her. She was looking at him, but Dean didn't think she was really seeing him. "What's going on, 'Mione? And don't give me any of that crap."
"I've been here before." Hermione whispered, closing her eyes. "It was the day before I met Castiel."
That caught his attention. She'd met Cas after she'd been...
"Shit." He breathed and Hermione laughed bitterly. "That..." He gestured to her arm. "Happened here?"
"They took us prisoner." Hermione sighed. "The Malfoy's were on the other side of the war, although I suppose Malfoy and I have always been enemies."
"I was a fool." Malfoy was back, standing tall in the doorway. Dean noticed there was a slight crick in his nose as though someone had broken it once.
"You were a child." Hermione sighed. "We both were, Draco. It's not your fault."
Dean reached the end of his patience.
"Would someone tell me what the hell's going on here?"
Hermione laughed as Draco looked affronted.
"He's American?" He hissed as though that was worse than Dean not being able to do magic.
"Draco and I went to school together." Hermione told him, before he could snap at the wizard. "We did not get along."
"That's putting it lightly." Draco murmured, examining his fingernails.
Hermione grimaced.
"Well...yes, it is. Anyway, he was a..."
"Foul loathsome evil little cockroach, I believe you called me." The wizard interjected coolly, tapping his nose. Hermione smirked.
"Quite. And I was..."
"A self-righteous Gryffindor Princess with beaver teeth and rats nest of hair."
Hermione glowered at him.
"I believe I am here to help you." She snapped waspishly.
The wizard smirked and waved her on.
"And I got the teeth fixed, no thanks to you." Hermione added, blushing slightly, before she slapped Dean who was staring at her mouth.
Malfoy grinned and Dean realised he was winding her up deliberately.
"That was a good curse."
"So was that punch." Hermione hissed, her hair crackling. The fear in her eyes receded as her temper caught up with her. There didn't seem to be any real malice there, though. "Anyway, we were both prejudiced."
"You?" Dean asked, incredulous. "You try and give were-wolves a way out!"
"Yes, me." Hermione sighed. "I honestly believed the Slytherin's were evil, that they'd come to no good in the world. I couldn't see any redeeming feature to them. That's just as bad as what they did to me."
Dean stiffened, thinking back to dozens of school councilors who'd told him he'd come to no good as a kid, teachers who'd given up on him just because he looked like trouble. He wasn't sure they'd been wrong.
Malfoy sighed.
"The past is in the past." Dean stiffened as a woman stepped silently into the room. Like her son she was pale, her blonde hair now mostly white, although it was neatly coiled at the back of her head. Her robes were ornate and expensive, rustling as she moved. Grey eyes settled on Hermione and she smiled coldly.
"A pleasure, Miss Granger."
Hermione stiffened, but got to her feet to greet the woman.
"Likewise, Madam Malfoy." She murmured. They didn't shake hands, just stared at each other, like two fighters sizing up the other. "I haven't seen you since the trial. You're looking...well."
"As do you." Mrs Malfoy perched elegantly on the edge of an armchair. "Please sit."
They sat, Dean trying not to get mud on the carpet.
"Who made the deal?" Dean asked bluntly and just like that the tension was back again.
"I'm sorry," The woman didn't look very sorry, merely calculating. "Who are you again?"
"Dean Winchester."
"He works with me." Hermione cut in.
"Hunting magical creatures." The woman smiled tightly. "My you have come full circle, Miss Granger."
"Do you want my help or not?" Hermione hissed. "We can always leave."
Draco flinched but his mother merely smiled.
"You're already going to try, not that much can be done. You're a Gryffindor. A remarkably devious one at that, but still a lion at heart."
None of that made sense to Dean but it sounded like an insult.
"Listen lady," He snapped, leaning forward but Hermione grabbed his arm.
"It's all right." She smiled. "She's right. Now why don't you tell me who made the deal?"
Mrs Malfoy sniffed delicately.
"I did."
Hermione reached forward and unzipped her duffel bag, pulling out one of Sam's notebooks and a pen.
"And when was this?" She queried, jotting down notes.
"Almost five years ago." Mrs Malfoy sat bolt upright in her chair, while her son slumped across a sofa, watching them all with grey eyes.
Hermione stiffened.
"That was at the end of our third year." Hermione realised. "After Pettigrew escaped."
The other woman nodded stiffly.
"And how many years did you bargain for?"
"Five." The answer was clipped and both hunters stared at her.
"Demon deals only come in tens..." Dean winced. "Or one's I guess. Why would you only get five?"
Hermione chewed the end of the pen.
"Oh, I don't know." She frowned. "It depends on what you're asking for, or how badly they want your soul. But in this case I think it has more to do with timing. Your contract expires soon, correct?"
"Next week." Draco murmured, looking both scared and annoyed.
Hermione snorted.
"I bet this isn't an isolated incident." She told Dean. "The demons were preparing for Lucifer. They knew when it was going to happen. Maybe they wanted to make preparations."
"All new souls to fight in a war." Dean nodded. It made sense.
"What are you talking about?" Draco demanded.
"Not important." Hermione said breezily and Dean realised that it really wasn't. Not anymore. "What did you bargain for?"
"My family's safety."
"Liar." Hermione rebuffed coolly. They stared at her. "Demons are bound by their deal, Narcissa and your family didn't survive the war. Your husband's rotting in Azkaban and your sister..." Hermione laughed. "That one must have really rankled. The great Bellatrix killed by Molly Weasley. You didn't bargain for your family. And it can't have been for your husband. He got life in prision didn't he? I'd give him a year at most before the dementors drive him mad. So what was it? Yourself? That your coffers came out intact?"
"Draco." Narcissa hissed and Hermione stopped, looking shocked. "I sold my soul to keep my son safe. For someone with family branded onto her face you have a surprisingly bad grasp of it. But then you're a muggleborn..."
"Hey!" Dean snapped. "Cut it out."
Hermione didn't appear to have noticed the insult. Instead she was staring at Draco with a worryingly unfocused gaze.
"Shit." Dean whispered, grabbing her shoulder. "'Mione! Wake up!"
"What's wrong with her?" Draco asked, looking rather unnerved.
"You must've jogged one of her memories...Hey!"
Hermione shook her head rather violently before shoving up her sleeves and staring frantically at the crease of her elbow.
"But..." She frowned, looking up at him, bewildered. "They..."
Dean grabbed her chin forcing her to look up at him.
"Where are we?" He demanded.
That caught her attention and she glanced around, taking in the Malfoy's who peered at her and the green furnishings.
"Malfoy Manor. Why are we here?" She answered her own question. "Demon deal, of course. Right, sorry."
"Have you gone mad, Miss Granger?" Narcissa asked, looking somewhat concerned.
Hermione heaved in a breath, reaching for her bag.
"Rather." She said matter-of-factly and utterly different from the Hermione who'd been hissing insults moments earlier.
"She was forced into it!" Hermione turned to Draco, and the blonde appeared stunned as though he's not sure how the words came out of his mouth.
"What?" Hermione breathed.
"My father...He wanted me safe." The wizard looked shaken and afraid, but he kept talking ignoring the furious glares his mother sent him. "So he made mother..."
"Is this true?" Hermione demanded of the other witch.
"My husband had his reasons." The other witch spat back venomously.
"Please, Granger..." Draco got to his feet, staring at her pleadingly. "I've no right to ask you this..."
"No!" Hermione seethed, losing it completely. "You don't. You WATCHED!" She shrieked and every window pane shattered. Narcissa screamed and Dean leapt forward to avoid being impaled by flying shards. "You stood there and you fucking watched, Malfoy! I was bleeding out on your floor..." Tears streamed down Hermione's face. "She was going to kill me!"
"I know." The wizard whispered, looking ashamed.
"Do you?" Hermione glared at him and Dean realised she'd drawn her angel blade, holding it threateningly in front of her. "If she'd murdered me, what would you have done? Forgotten?"
"No...never."
"I hope it would have haunted you!" She screamed, ignoring Dean's restraining grip on her shoulder. "I hope you never forget because I haven't!" She scrabbled with her sleeve, pulling it up so her scar was in view. "I can never forget!"
"It was red." Draco whispered and Hermione stilled. "It was red." He repeated, "There wasn't a difference. I always thought you got lucky, that you just read more but there wasn't a difference..." He stared at her. "It could've been my blood and I'm sorry!"
Carefully, Dean pulled the blade from Hermione's trembling hand, tugging her backwards until she was standing safely next to him.
"But, I'm begging you, Granger!" Draco sighed, seeming to shrink. "This is my fault. She made that deal for me."
Shivering, Hermione looked up at Dean and held his gaze for several long moments.
"This will come at a price." She stated, seriously and the room calmed. "Do you understand that?"
"Will Draco be safe?" Narcissa broke in. She'd been suspiciously silent whilst her son was pleading for her life.
"Probably." Hermione offered bitterly. "I make no promises." She seemed exhausted now and disinterested. "I'm going to need your garden."
She and Dean gathered up their bags and headed for the door, when Dean paused by Draco.
"One thing," He murmured and swung a punch at the wizard that knocked him clean off his feet and onto the hardwood floor with a horrible thunk. "That's for 'Mione."
Hermione, looking back at him from the doorway, beamed.
"You can't bargain with a demon." Dean hissed.
"I'm aware of that." Hermione flicked through her phone contracts. "I'm not trying to bargain. The demon's going to get exactly what it wants."
"What? A soul?"
Hermione smiled at him and Dean got another vicious reminder that she wasn't quite the same as she had been before a pair of Archangel's had taken her to pieces.
"Exactly." Her phone call connected and she hissed. "Harry, it's me...mm...Harry...Shut up!" Hermione ordered.
Dean grumbled under his breath and went back to kicking gravel over the demon trap.
"I need you to go to Azkaban." Hermione rubbed at her forehead. "I don't need you to break someone out, I just need you to talk to a prisoner for me. Don't ask questions..." Dean watched her spare hand clench into a fist. "Dammit, Harry. Don't make me do this!" He stared at her, unsure as to how she could do anything standing in the middle of nowhere with only her cell phone to help. "Narcissa Malfoy is calling in your life debt." Hermione stated flatly. Loud angry swearing emitted from the speaker and she scowled, holding it away from her ear. "Just call me when you get there."
She hung up.
"You gonna tell me what that was about?" He asked.
"You'll find out soon enough." Hermione sighed. "Ready?"
"This is a bad idea." Dean muttered rebelliously, dropping the box into the hole he'd dug at the center of the cross-roads.
Hermione glowered at him.
"You've said." She groaned. "But this is the only way I can think of to fix this, so you're just going to have to trust me."
Dean shovelled dirt over the box. Who the hell had their own private cross-roads anyway?
"Well, well...a Winchester." The cross-roads demons smiled delightedly. This one appeared to be dressed as a business man, with slicked back hair and a vibrant red tie that made Dean want to punch him. "We don't often see you on this side of the pond."
Hermione pushed herself away from the tree she was leaning against and moved to stand next to Dean. The demon's smile widened.
"Aw. The Winchester's got a girlfriend."
"Shut up." Hermione ordered mildly. The demon pouted. "I want to know about the contract on Narcissa Malfoy."
"Yeah...no. I'm just going to..." The demon attempted to move and then sighed. "Right, of course. Demon trap." It rolled its eyes at them. "I'm not going to tell you anything."
Dean drew Ruby's knife and Hermione, Simiel and they stood silently, waiting for the demon to connect the dots. It groaned loudly, rolling its head on its neck.
"Urgh. Fine. Standard five year contract for the continued existence of her son." The demon grinned. "Can I go now?"
"No." Hermione gave it a grim look. "I'm going to give you a bargain..."
"Oh, that's rich." The demon snapped.
"I'm guessing this contract just specifies one soul and that the contract stayed with you...not Crowley."
Dean frowned at her.
"How the hell did you know that?" He demanded, catching the reference to his own contract.
"I asked Sam." She murmured. "So? It's a minor deal. Nothing worth bothering the King over."
The demon nodded slowly, eyes slitted and red.
"Very well. You'll get your soul. It'll give it to you voluntarily and even better..." She showed her teeth. "It's half broken all ready."
The demon seemed to consider this before it snapped out one hand, summoning a contract.
"Willing soul?"
"Naturally." Hermione murmured.
"Immediate collection?"
"Definitely."
Dean couldn't believe what he was hearing and so tried to pretend he couldn't hear it.
"That sounds fair..." The demon murmured, scratching something out with a pen.
"Additional clause..." Hermione added, looking unusually focused. "No harm will come to the Malfoy family as a result of this deal. Hell will leave them be. No reneging on Narcissa's contract either. Any harm that should have come to Draco stays undone. Got it?"
The demon sighed.
"It's as though you don't trust us." It scratched out several lines and replaced them. "The King will hear about this, you know."
"Crowley doesn't scare us." Dean told it while Hermione's phone rang.
The demon grinned at him.
"He doesn't want to kill her. He wants to recruit her."
"Harry." Hermione snapped answering the call. "I need to talk to him." She fumbled with the controls, before putting it on speaker. "Malfoy?"
"That's Sir Malfoy to you, mudblood scum."
Hermione shook her head at Dean when he made to retort. It wasn't worth it.
"Malfoy," She repeated. "Your wife is in danger. Her deal is about to be called in." There was a still silence and even the demon seemed to be intrigued. "I'm giving you the opportunity to save her."
"Will it get me out of here?" The man demanded.
Dean paused for a moment, wondering how someone could be so selfish. Hermione didn't seem surprised though.
"Yes, it will." Dean glanced at her, because she wasn't telling him everything, but her face was closed off and cold. "But you'll take Narcissa's place as you should have done originally, you worthless coward."
"Fine. Whatever." The man snapped and then coughed loudly.
Hermione looked to the demon who nodded.
"Good enough." He signed the contract with a flourish.
"Harry..." Hermione called.
"Yeah?"
"You need to get out of there now! Get away from there."
"Fine." Harry hissed, obviously furious. "My office...half an hour. If you're not there I'll hunt you down myself."
"Whatever." Hanging up she tossed the phone to Dean. "Break the trap," She ordered, striding forward.
"Don't..." Dean grimaced as Hermione kissed the demon to seal the contract. "Do that." He finished weakly. The demon stepped back.
"Jealous?" It teased. "The King will be in touch with you." It promised and vanished.
Hermione seemed to sag as though her strings had been cut.
"We should leave." She whispered.
Dean shouldered their bags before wrapping an arm around her waist.
"Shouldn't we tell them you fixed it?" He asked, slightly in awe and slightly terrified. He wondered if this was what it had been like for Sam when he'd come back from Hell. The same person, but somehow not.
"I'm pretty sure when they find out I sold their father and husband to Hell in their place they won't want to see me." She told him, dropping a pendant over his head. "You need to head home."
"Not yet." Dean grabbed her wand hand. "You wanna tell me what the fuck's going on in that head of yours?"
"Not really." She sighed.
"Haha. Talk."
"You're worse than Sam sometimes." Hermione groaned. "I'm broken, Dean. One moment I'm completely lucid and then something sets me off and then I'm confused or angry or furious and everything's up in the air and..."
"Breathe." Dean ordered, pulling her into a hug. "I get it. I do."
She hiccuped.
"Suppose you do. You need to go. I've got to go face Harry."
"Hell no, I'm coming with you."
Hermione stepped back, tapping the pendant with her wand.
"Portus." she whispered and Dean felt that horrible hook behind his navel and the ground beneath his feet vanish. The next second he was crashing to the ground in Bobby's yard and Sam was jogging over to him looking amused and concerned.
"Hey, everything ok?" He called.
"I'm going to kill her." Dean complained, thunking his head off the ground.
Explaining the situation took long enough that Hermione went through three butter-beers from the stash Harry kept under his desk.
"It's my head on the line." Harry complained.
"I've apologised for that." Hermione murmured, tapping her finger against the bottle.
Harry grunted and they subsided into silence.
"Why'd didn't you tell me about..." He trailed off and Hermione shrugged. "You didn't even...You didn't say anything." He finished weakly. "What if you hadn't come back?"
Hermione realised that Harry thought the whole thing had been an accident, as though it was unexpected for her to fall into the Cage. She supposed, for him, it was.
"I had to save Sam." She murmured. "It was the best option at the time. Harry..." She sighed. "I wasn't planning on coming back." Hermione told him honestly and Harry flinched.
Harry sighed but made a visible effort to not fly off the handle. It was quite impressive.
"Lets compromise." He announced and Hermione choked on her Butter-beer.
"What?" She spluttered.
"We reach an agreement we can both deal with." He explained.
She narrowed her eyes but gestured for him to continue.
"Mind healing?" He offered.
"No." Hermione growled.
"Worth a shot." The wizard murmured. "No more secrecy." He suggested instead. "You tell me what's happening, even if I can't help."
"Fine." Hermione was through with lying to her friends.
"Ron too." Harry added meaningfully.
"He's going to yell at me." She complained.
Harry didn't seem to care.
"You continue to work for the Department." The wizard added.
Hermione grinned.
"As long as you keep paying me." She teased and Harry laughed.
"And you be Ginny's Maid of Honour."
"Sure...wait, what?" Hermione floundered, staring at him.
"Gin wants you to be Maid of Honour at the wedding." His green eyes narrowed and she couldn't help but feel there was something mildly malicious hiding there. "Just wear the dress, drink the champagne I'm paying a ridiculous amount for and for the love of Merlin, do not let her bring her beaters bat to the ceremony!"
Hermione paused, frowning.
"Why is that even an issue?" She wailed.
It wasn't until later when Ginny proudly presented her with the details of what promised to be either the greatest wedding ever or the largest social disaster since Arianna Dumbledore's funeral, that she realised Harry had, quite neatly, ensured she spend at least one day a week in the UK.
"I need another drink." She complained and the bride-to-be poured her another gin.
"We're keeping it simple." The red head explained, leafing through the folder. "I'm think green for the colour scheme, red and gold is so cliché..."
Hermione gaped at her.
"This is simple?" She breathed in horror, staring at the that folder easily weighed more that three stone and was bulging with flyers and paper and bits of taffeta.
"Yes," Ginny told her decisively and lovingly stroked the rosewood beaters bat that appeared to be permanently strapped to her side.
Hermione grabbed the gin bottle and hugged it.
"I can't stay cooped up in here all the time." Hermione argued a week later. Surprisingly it was Bobby she was talking to, as both Sam and Dean were on her side. "I need to get my strength back up, I know. But I can't do that stuck indoors. I'm not suggesting hunting." She added when Bobby moved to protest. "But little things. I already promised Ginny I'd help with wedding planning," Hermione visibly shuddered, looking somewhat horrified.
Bobby sighed and opened his mouth.
"And this is me informing you, not asking you for permission." The witch added.
This time Bobby groaned.
"Stubborn woman." He grumbled under his breath as he reached for the bottle of Scotch. Ellen moved it out of his way. "Oh come on!"
"Do you want a pickled liver?" Ellen snapped, completely derailing the conversation.
"So what're you gonna do?" Dean held out one hand. "Wrench." He added.
Hermione passed over the tool, after checking it was the right one with Sam. She was swinging her legs as she perched on the workbench. Sam, who was leaning against the wall reading, verified every tool. Handing Dean the wrong one just wasn't worth it.
"Well, Bobby doesn't have any books I haven't read." Hermione told them dryly. Sam snorted, turning the page of his mystery novel. "I don't know. Catch up on my potions maybe. The Apocalypse rather cut into my stock."
"You could come running with me." Sam offered hopefully.
"Or I could gouge out my eyeballs." Hermione said mildly.
Sam sighed as said eyes slid out of focus and grabbed her before she could fall off the bench.
"You okay?" He asked, once he was reasonably certain she was back with them.
Hermione leaned against his side and sighed as she watched Dean wrestle with a particularly stubborn engine.
"Not particularly." She smiled slightly, watching his brother. "But its improving."
Jody Mills watched the woman with one hand resting on the butt of her gun. She wasn't local, and while strangers weren't unusual in this neck of the woods, she stood out more than most. Technically Jody wasn't on duty, all though she was still in uniform and it wasn't her bubbly personality which had gotten her the Sheriff's job. She was a suspicious son of a bitch by nature.
The woman was a hunter, she was sure of that. Not only was that a suspicious bulge in the her boot which hinted at a well hidden, but rather large knife, but the collection of plants she was adding to her cart were eclectic mixes of herbs and shrubs which just looked strange to be grouped together. When you added that to the strange tattoo on the girl's cheek and the way she made sure to keep a close eye on everyone near her...well Jody wasn't stupid.
Plus she'd been dropped off in a large black car that belonged to Bobby Singer's supposed nephews, which was really something of a hint.
Her battered leather jacket had its sleeves pushed up to her elbows as she rooted through gardening displays and one hand triumphantly pulled a rather sorry looking pot plant from under a lavender bush.
And then suddenly the woman froze, paling dramatically. Jody wasn't sure whether she hit the floor first or the plant did but she rushed over to help regardless, grateful that the garden center was mostly empty as this time of day.
"Hey, hey!" She grabbed the woman's shoulder and crouched in front of her. "Hey, kid, listen to me."
Unfocused brown eyes stared back at her and Jody realised with no small amount of horror that that wasn't a tattoo on her cheek. Someone had carved into this woman's face.
"Come on, stay with me." She yanked at the woman's wrist, feeling automatically for a pulse which felt erratic but strong under her fingertips.
The woman blinked several times, went an alarming shade of green and then vomited neatly into the bucket that Jody had, thankfully, managed to grab just in time. Jody held the woman's hair back as she wretched, murmuring soothingly under her breath.
"I'm rather sorry about that."
The faint whisper echoed from inside the bucket as the woman spat out a last mouthful of bile.
"Er...you're fine." Jody frowned at the accent. "You a tourist?"
"I live just outside of town." The woman lifted her head and glared at the Sheriff. "If that's okay?"
"Uh huh." They both got to their feet, Jody shoving the bucket under a display of azaleas. "What just happened? Do you have a medical condition or something?"
"Or something?" The girl replied cryptically.
"I'm Sheriff Jody Mills." They shook hands and Jody looked the woman over. "You got a name, miss?"
"Hermione." There was a pause as Jody waited for a surname and then Hermione grudgingly supplied. "Harvelle. Hermione Harvelle."
"Right. You related to Ellen by any chance?" Jody thought back to the tough woman she'd met a few times. They went for drinks occasionally, but mostly sat in silence drowning their sorrows in ways that wouldn't follow them home. She vaguely remembered the woman mentioning something about a daughter.
"I'm her niece."
Jody sighed.
"Right. Like those boys are Bobby Singer's nephews?"
Hermione Harvelle (real name pending) grinned.
"Something like that, yes."
They went to the chain coffee shop outside and sat under a large umbrella, each watching the other warily.
"So you're a hunter, right?" Jody asked bluntly. Beating around the bush had never been her strong point.
Hermione pinned her with a dark stare.
"Is that a problem?" She murmured quietly.
"No, no...It's just..." Jody winced and tried not to look at the scar on her cheek. "Ain't you a little young to be hunting demons?"
The other woman laughed darkly.
"Even if I was too young that wouldn't stop them killing me." She gave a slight smile that seemed to contain very little humour. "Besides Sam's only five years older than me."
"Uh huh." The Sheriff stirred her coffee before asking, with deceptive casualness, "And you're in the country legally?"
That question earned her an ambiguous wave of Hermione's hand and one eyebrow raised in challenge as she leaned back in her chair.
Jody sighed heavily.
"Great. That's just...You guys don't do any good for my conscience, you get that right?" Jody changed the subject. "So, what's with the plants?"
Hermione smiled around her tea.
"Herb garden."
"Seriously?" Jody stared at her. The young woman looked more likely to burn a garden than grow one, although that might have been the influence of the leather jacket, Jody wasn't sure.
"Mm." Hermione's fingers stroked the leaves spilling out the bags by her feet. "It's useful to have a fresh supply of things like Aconite on hunts, so these are for store cupboards mostly." She coughed. "Well most of them. Not the tulips. I just happen to like those. And the nasturtiums are for Sam's salads."
"Okay. And Ellen's your aunt?" She added quickly, hoping to catch the girl off guard.
"Mmm." Hermione stiffened as a familiar engine note roared down one of the roads closer to them and she turned slightly concerned eyes back to Jody. "Would you do me a favour Sheriff?"
"Depends." Jody stated bluntly.
"Don't tell anyone about my little...episode..."
"Hey, if you're ill, people need to know."
Hermione rolled her eyes which just made Jody scoff.
"This is the first time I've been allowed out on my own in weeks!" She hissed. "I..."
"Sheriff Mills." Both women looked up as Dean strolled up to their table. "Fancy meeting you here."
Jody smiled, watching as the older Winchester brother looked Hermione over.
"I'm good, Dean. Although I hope you lot aren't causing trouble in my town."
"No, ma'am." The hunter winked at her, before turning back to the other woman. "You ready to go?"
Hermione smiled up at him and Jody suspected that was the first genuine expression she'd seen from her all afternoon. Dean grinned back at her, holding out a hand to help from her seat.
"Such a gentleman." Hermione commented wryly.
Dean pretended to be indignant.
"Hey! I'll have you know I hold doors open and everything."
Hermione laughed.
"In that case you can carry the shopping."
Dean gaped and then laughed.
"Damn you're good." He teased, before scooping up the bags. Jody almost fell out of her seat. She'd had no idea the man could be so...carefree.
"Don't you forget it." Hermione turned back to the Sheriff. "A pleasure meeting you, Jody."
"Uh...yeah. Likewise."
Jody watched them go feeling utterly bemused. She and Ellen were going to have a long talk on the next one of their drinking nights.
Hermione looked around at her finished garden, happily basking in the sunlight. It had taken a few weeks to order all the plants in and some of the rarer species had to be ordered from Neville, but it was definitely worth it. Sam and Dean were somewhere nearby, within hearing distance. Bobby had suggested having barbecue and the boys had descended into bickering about the correct way to grill meat. Ellen was in the kitchen, from which Hermione had been banned, leaving her to read her book on the scrap of lawn by her plants. The American summer was warmer than she was used to, but not overly humid in South Dakota, like Sam had promised her Florida would be.
"Brought you a beer."
She glanced up at Dean and accepted the cool bottle gladly.
"Thanks."
Dean settled onto the grass next to her, bumping her shoulder with his.
"What're you readin'?"
Hermione handed him the dog-eared paperback she was sure had belonged to Bobby's wife. She'd found it buried under a stack of lore books.
Dean snickered.
"Can Diego the cowboy, capture the heart of the illusive..." He read aloud, and Hermione shoved at him.
"Oh, like you can talk Mr-Dr-Sexy-is-the-best-show-ever."
Dean flushed.
"Shut up."
"Gladly."
Hermione shifted so she was leaning against Dean and he wrapped his spare arm around her waist.
"How're you doing?" Dean murmured and Hermione paused, because she knew what he was really asking.
"I think I've got most of it now." She replied, watching the late summer breeze make the plants sway.
"Still no idea who pulled you out?"
...Hey Princess. I warned you...
"No idea." Hermione lied quietly. Dean didn't seem to notice. "But I think..." She shrugged. "I think I'm better."
"You think?"
"Mmm."
They listened to the sound of Ellen berating Sam for letting Bobby at the whiskey.
"You happy here?" Dean asked suddenly.
Hermione glanced up at him, surprised.
"Yes. I miss the road somewhat, but it's nice to be settled for a bit."
"I get that." He murmured.
A few more minutes passed before Hermione tapped her wand thoughtfully against her knee.
"Do you want to dye Sam's hair?"
Dean gave her a grin that would have scared at lesser being. As it was Hermione just grinned back and let him pull her to her feet.
Dean hadn't felt his tattoo prickling because he'd been in the shower, so it wasn't until there was a high pitched shriek that he realised Hermione had appeared in the bathroom as he was stepping out from under the water.
They stared at each other in surprise before Hermione spun away, face turning an amazing shade of red and clapped her hands over her eyes.
"I'm sorry." She promised, through what sounded like clenched teeth as Dean laughed at her.
"Hey, I don't mind." He grinned, drying himself off with a towel before wrapping it around his waist. "You know most girls just stare through the keyhole."
Hermione snarled.
"Don't make me hex you." She hissed.
"Where were you anyway?"
"Helping Ginny." Hermione sighed. "Put your clothes on." She added irritably.
"They are on." He assured her smugly, tightening his grip on his towel.
"Liar." She told him, without turning around. She'd have to at some point. Dean was between her and the door.
"How'd you know?" He asked, sounding somewhat petulant.
"Feminine intuition." She turned around, lowering her hands, but studiously averting her gaze.
"Where are you going?"
"Out." She snapped. "Before I do something I regret." She added under her breath.
"I heard that." He called cheerfully.
"Screw you, Winchester."
"That's kinda the idea."
"'Mione's birthday's coming up." Sam told him, sprawling across the sofa. Hermione had magically extended it so it could now fit all of Sam's freakishly long limbs. Sam had barely gotten off the damn thing since.
He was right though. The summer had gone a lot faster than Dean had realised and September was already a week over. It was nice having a holiday, he decided.
"I know." He murmured.
Sam gave him a look that could only be described as evil and was probably more due to being a little brother than demon blood.
"Did you get her anything?" He grinned.
"Did you?" Dean retaliated, but dragged Sam out to the yard anyway. He rummaged behind an old gear box and produced a small cloth bag. "Open it." He insisted, handing it to Sam.
His brother undid the drawstring and pulled out the bracelet, hanging it from one finger so he could see all the charms.
"Bobby knew this hunter who does like commission stuff down in Kansas,"
"So that's where you went for that weekend." Sam realised and Dean shrugged, just glad that no one had questioned it at the time. "We thought you were hunting on the sly." He explained.
Dean scowled.
"Anyway, I figured those pendants have to weigh a ton and one day someone's gonna strangle her with them and you wanna know the weird thing?" He asked in a rush.
"What?" Sam breathed, examining a the small anti-possession sidgil which made up the third charm.
"This guy was ancient, right, but he looked at me and he went "You a Campbell?" Just out of blue. I didn't even get to introduce myself."
That caught Sam's attention.
"Campbell?" He blurted. "Like mom's family?"
"Yeah. Guess I look like her. Dad used to say I did." Dean leaned against the workbench. "Huntin' went back generations with them, remember? Apparently they used to commission a lot of stuff from this guy when he first started out."
"Cool."
"Yeah. So I asked if he could show me some of the stuff and I saw this." Dean's eyes softened slightly. "Labelled Mary Campbell, sweet sixteen. Mom had one of these when I met her. I guess Samuel musta got it for her birthday. Anyways, I got him to change some of the charms, but otherwise..." Dean trailed off, shrugging.
"She'll love it." Sam breathed before returning the bracelet to its bag. "If I give you twenty bucks can we go halves."
Dean snatched the bag away.
"Hell no."
"Dude, all you got me for my birthday was a bottle of Jack."
Dean snickered.
"I offered to shave your head too."
Sam scowled.
"I'm twenty three." Hermione announced.
They stared at her.
"I coulda sworn you were twenty yesterday." Ellen smiled, evidently humouring her.
Hermione scowled.
"Yeah, you're ten years younger than Dean, right?" Sam teased. Dean kicked him under the table.
"I'm twenty three!" She insisted, waving her bacon sandwich somewhat threateningly.
"How?" Bobby asked dryly. "Don't suppose you'd care to explain to us lesser mortals?"
"Well if you insist." Hermione sighed. "I lived one year twice, during my school years, which brought me up to about twenty ish, correct?"
"So you say." Bobby murmured.
Ellen scowled.
"Why'd you do that anyway?"
"I had school work to do." Hermione waved that aside as though deliberate time travel wasn't important. "Anyway, I spent two months in 1978 working as a waitress while I was waiting for Castiel to wake up, which adds to that and then I was in the Cage for..." She turned to Dean expectantly.
"'Bout eight years." He supplied helpfully.
"So..I'm twenty three." She said decisively.
"You know by that logic, Dean's at least seventy." Sam spoke up, grinning.
"Shut it, bitch." Dean snapped and then winced as Ellen slapped the back of his head.
"Language, boy!" She turned back to Hermione. "Sounds fair enough. Sides when you get older you can backslide a few years."
Bobby chuckled.
"Oh yeah, how long you been forty five anyway?" He smirked and Ellen glowered at him.
"Drink your damn coffee if you know what's good for you."
"Yes, ma'am." Bobby mumbled, taking refuge behind his mug.
Sam leaned over.
"You know seven years is a lot less of an age gap than ten." He whispered to his brother.
Dean went red.
"Shut up, Sam!" He snarled loudly, looking pleadingly at Ellen.
"Sam don't tease your brother." She ordered.
"Oh, come on!" Sam complained while Hermione snickered into her tea.
"I got you this." Dean murmured. The nightmare had taken them both by surprise that night and Hermione was shivering with something other than cold. Her shadowed eyes glanced from the bag to him and back again.
"My birthday was yesterday." She told him in a broken whisper.
Dean sighed.
"Just open it, 'Mione."
Hermione tipped the silver chain out onto her palm and lifted it up to look at it. Dean clicked on the bedside light so she could see properly and waited for a response.
The first charm was a tiny number plate.
"Is that Baby's registration?" Hermione murmured sleepily.
"Her old one." Dean shrugged. Baby had her plates changed regularly these days, but that was the registration Dean had grown up with. It was the one that meant home.
"Anti-possession." Hermione touched the next charm. "Crucifix, an Aquarian star..."
"Yeah, I don't know why that one's on there." Dean ruffled his hair, embarrassed and she laughed.
"Pentagram, Hectate's wheel." Her thumb rubbed thoughtfully across that last one. Then she giggled. "I'm going to assume the moose and the wolf are you and Sam?"
Dean clasped the bracelet around her wrist.
"That'd be telling." He teased. "The book's for you."
"Thank you for this." Hermione tilted her arm admiring that way the light caught at the silver. "I love it."
The hunter flushed.
"Uh...good."
Quietly he wondered if she even remembered those moments leading up to Stull Cemetery. He had kissed her and...
...The way his luck worked it was just one of the many tiny details she'd forgotten.
Hermione had a problem. Now that her head was somewhere slightly closer to...normal (or at least what passed for it) she'd had the opportunity to examine certain...emotions.
Her initial realization in the hospital had taken sometime to truly sink in. It wasn't until she'd seen Ron again that she'd been utterly certain that if she brewed Amortentia, Ronald Weasley was exactly what it wouldn't smell like.
Which led her to wonder exactly how long it hadn't smelled like Ron.
This metaphor was wearing on her nerves.
She wasn't in love with Ron. She knew that.
The real question was...was she in love with someone else?
Someone very specifically not Ron?
That one she wasn't sure about. Ideally she'd talk to Castiel, but the Angel was still AWOL and not answering her prayers.
So Hermione pushed that problem away and dealt with her current one.
"You look nice." Sam commented as she attempted to pin her hair back into something which didn't resemble a lion's mane. He was leaning on the door frame of her room, frowning at her in the mirror.
"Thank you." Hermione murmured. Her navy robes were being worn over a navy dress she'd bought with her mother once and had all but forgotten about. Hermione didn't have much time for dresses and skirts these days.
"You going out?" The younger Winchester asked.
She hesitated.
"Yes."
"With Ginny?" Sam pressed, looking suspicious.
"With Ron." Hermione clarified and Sam's stare turned accusing. And that, of course, was the other problem. Sam was surprisingly intuitive about the people around him, although admittedly he sometimes acted like an idiot about it. And he'd worked out quite quickly the same conclusion Hermione was doing her best to ignore.
"'Mione..."
Hermione whirled, glaring at him. Her bracelet clinked as she moved, the charms cool against her skin.
"Sam, I do not need the disappointed friend speech right now." She grabbed her bag, tucking it into the pocket of her robe and picked up the pendant she used as a portkey. "I know what I'm doing."
"Oh really?" Sam bitched, looking angry. "And what's that? Because it looks like your running away!"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Something unpleasant." She snapped. "Portus"
A/N
So this is officially the longest chapter yet.
Let me know what you think. I want to point out that Hermione's not better. She probably never will be. But for the moment, like Dean, she's stable. Which is as good as she'll get.
Sam's regressing into a little brother.
Please let me know your thoughts,
Hood