Disclainmer: I do not own Supernatural or Harry Potter.
September 2003.
"Amazing," Hermione sighed, falling on the couch at Harry and Ginny's apartment, a bottle of Butterbeer in hand.
"Amazing?" Ginny questioned.
"Amazing," the American witch repeated.
"I'm glad to hear he finally saw reason," Ginny chuckled.
"Saw reason?" Hermione snorted. "Sure, if you'd like."
"What did you do?" Ginny questioned.
"I may have, accidently, on purpose, didn't finish arranging myself for our date last night," Hermione said, feigning innocence. "So I told him to wait inside while I finished up."
"And…?"
"And I walked right into my living room wearing nothing but a towel," Hermione finished. "A very, very small towel. It might have been a couple of years, but I still know how he thinks. How all men think," she added as an afterthought.
"Interesting," Ginny mused. "I might try that next time Harry gets too busy with work for my liking, if you know what I mean."
"Trust me, I know more than I want to when it comes to you two," Hermione grimaced. "I never shared my experiences with Ron with you, did I?"
"Oh, you did," Ginny replied.
"Oh, well," Hermione sighed. "Last night was better."
"Er… glad to hear?" Ginny asked, trying to decide whether or not this specific piece of information made her sick, or made her want to rub it in Ron's face.
"I'll deny if ever asked," Hermione quickly said, seeming to read her friend's mind.
"Spoilsport," Ginny muttered. "So, seeing as things with Dean are well –"
"Better than well," Hermione corrected.
"Better than well," Ginny agreed. "How is Bobby? And Sam and Jess?"
"Dad is… as always," Hermione shrugged. "Rufus called the other week."
"What did he do?" Ginny asked, knowing all too well the complicated relationship between the two hunters.
"Called him many names even I feel uncomfortable to repeat before hanging up," Hermione replied. "And Sam and Jess are still living in their little bubble."
"Do you want me to take him to Mum?" Ginny asked. "He'll propose within a week."
"Nah," Hermione shrugged. "Let them take things at their pace. Last I spoke to Sam, he's ready to propose. He just… wants to do things right."
"Last time a Winchester wanted to do things right I had you complaining to me about your empty sex life for a month," Ginny noted.
"Trust me, they've got no problems on that front," Hermione said, pulling a face. "Between you and Jess, I know more about my brothers' sex life than anybody ever should."
"They're not really your brothers, though."
"Don't give me that, Gin," Hermione said. "You know how it works almost as well as I do."
"Yeah, yeah," Ginny waved the comment off. "Family don't end with blood and all that. But I still can't understand how you see Harry and Sam as your brothers, but Ron and Dean are fair game."
"How do you see Neville?" Hermione questioned.
"As a – I get what you're trying to do," Ginny smirked. "Fine. You win this one. Speaking of Neville, did you hear he just finished his Herbology Mastery?"
"At a matter of fact, I have," Hermione said with a smile. "He's studying under Professor Sprout now, isn't he?"
"Taking her post next year," Ginny nodded. "He'll also be Head of Gryffindor. Minerva is having trouble handling both that job and being Headmistress."
"Well, good for the both of them," Hermione smiled. "She deserves whatever rest she can have before you and Harry will start sending kids to Hogwarts." She paused as she realized what she just said. "Not that I expect you to – only if you want to – I don't want you to feel any pressure because –"
"Relax," Ginny laughed. "I was actually going to bring it up to Harry tonight. I know it's early, since we just got married," she said, "but I also know how much he wants a big family, and I'd like to give him that. Not too big, mind you, but still."
"He already has a big family," Hermione said, gesturing at the photos of Weasleys that covered nearly every surface.
"But he wants a family of his own," Ginny replied. "The only blood relatives he's got are the Dursleys and they're…"
"Positively horrific?" Hermione suggested.
"Exactly," Ginny said. "I mean, don't you want a big family after growing up on your own?"
"I had Sam and Dean," Hermione reminded her friend. "But I get what you mean. I mean, I can see myself settling one someday… starting a family. Not dropping off work entirely," she quickly added.
"I get you there," Ginny said. "I know my Mum did it and all, but I think I'd drive myself mad if all I'd do is playing house. Though I may take a desk job – maybe be a Quidditch journalist for the Prophet."
"You'll be good at that," Hermione said.
"I hope so," Ginny replied. "So, you can see yourself starting a family… with Dean?"
"As odd as it may sound, I can," Hermione admitted. "We'll have two kids. A boy, and a girl. The boy will be a little heartbreaker like his dad, and the girl will never have a proper date, what with her overprotective daddy."
"That bad?"
"You think my Dad was harsh when it came to boys?" Hermione questioned. "Dean will be ten times worse because he's going to be afraid some mini-him will come and sweep her off her feet. And her overprotective brother won't be much better."
"I see you've already got it all planned out," Ginny smirked.
"Is that foolish of me?" Hermione asked.
"Not at all," her friend replied. "I, for one, think it to be adorable. You do know it means you'll have to tell your dad about him, right?"
"Give me a couple of months," she said. "I… I know it sounds incredibly stupid after what I just said, but I want to make sure he's really into it first. I suppose I just don't want to get my hopes up."
"It's not stupid," Ginny told her. "You're just trying to protect yourself. It's completely understandable. Now sit up!" She gave her a non-negotiable stare. "I want to hear everything about last night."
December 2003 – January 2004.
Hermione and Dean were lying in bed, looking at the clock as they waited for the countdown for the New Year. They were wrapped in the blanket, curled into each other as Hermione's back pressed into Dean's bare chest, their legs tangled with each other's.
"Ten," Dean whispered in her ear, his breath tickling her while simultaneously sending shivers down her spine. "Nine. Eight."
"Seven," she whispered back, taking his hand in her own and holding it to her chest. "Six. Five."
"Four," Dean said, turning her to look at him. "Three."
"Two," she continued, leaning forwards to close the distance between the two of them. "One."
He pulled her close for a kiss, causing her hand to let go of his and wrap around his back, his hands travelling all over her body before he pulled away for breath.
"Happy New Year, Mya," he said, rolling over her and giving her another small peck on the lips.
"Happy New Year," she echoed, pulling him close as if she never wanted to let go.
Some time later, she was standing in her kitchen, wearing nothing but one of his shirts and arranging a midnight snack for the two of them. He walked in wearing a pair of boxers before sneaking behind her and pulling her close.
"I hope microwave pizza is fine," she said. "It's pretty much all I have to offer."
"Microwave pizza is great," he said, making a trail of kisses from her hairline and down her neck. "Have I told you how sexy you look when you're wearing my shirts?"
"More than once," she said, trying to ignore the trembles he was creating in her body. "You also said you were hungry."
"I'll live." He shrugged, turning her over and trying to pull her onto the table.
"Nope," she said, pulling away from him. "We're not having sex on the table. I eat here."
"You can always get a new one," he offered.
"So that you can ruin it, too?" she questioned. "Not gonna happen. Now, I'll finish making us pizza –"
"It's microwave pizza," he reminded her.
"– and then we'll go back to the bedroom," she finished as if he hadn't just interrupted.
"So it's okay to eat in the bed where we had sex, but not okay to have sex on the table where you eat?" he asked.
"It's not me I'm worried about." She smiled. "Other people eat here, too. How do you think Sam would feel if he came to visit and discover he's sitting where we had sex?"
"Extremely supporting of us?" Dean offered.
"Try again," she said, giving him a small peck on his lips before turning around and putting the pizza in the microwave.
"How about the sofa?"
She turned back to look at him, the slightest color in her cheeks visible despite the darkness of the apartment.
"I really don't think you understand that I actually have guests coming around," she said.
"I really don't think you understand that I don't really care about the guests," he retorted.
"Well, I do," she informed him.
"C'mon, Mya," he muttered, wrapping his hands around her and pulling her close. "How can I resist? You're standing here in the kitchen, looking irresistible and incredibly hot wearing my shirt, and you expect me to wait?"
"Yup," she replied, popping the word out of her mouth with a mischievous grin.
"Fine," Dean pouted, though he was rolling his eyes in amusement. "How are things going, other than that?"
"Things are fine," she replied with a smile. "Work's busy as always, but that's what I like about it. Sam and Jess are still the perfect couple." She paused for a moment, thinking about what else was going on in everybody's life. "Ginny's pregnant."
"Oh," was all Dean said.
She turned to look at him. "Oh?" she asked.
"Yeah, I… what do you want me to say?" He shrugged.
"Usually, people say congratulations," she noted.
"Why would I tell you congratulations?" he asked. "It's not like you're the pregnant one."
"Yes, but…" she sighed, trying to point out what bothered her about his reply. "You could have still been a bit happier for them."
"It's not like I've ever met them or something."
"Well, they're still my friends!"
"Are you seriously going to start an argument about this?" he asked. "You do realize how stupid this is?"
"Their happiness matters to me," she replied. "You should be happy with me."
"I am happy!" he called. "Let them have twenty kids for all I care, I just don't understand why you're making such a scene out of it!"
"I wasn't the one making a scene out of it!" she called.
"Yes, you were!"
"You know what? This is stupid," Hermione said.
"That's what I said and then you attacked me," Dean told her. "Why did you even bring it up in the first place?"
"They're my friends," she repeated.
"Yeah, friends I've never met," he said.
"Well, maybe that's a problem in itself!" she told him.
"I can't believe we're actually doing this," he said. "You want me to meet your friends? Bring your friends over! I'm here at least once a month; it shouldn't be such a big deal for your friends to drop over!"
"It is when they're across the Atlantic!"
Dean opened his mouth to reply when his phone beeped. "This fight is stupid and I've got a case," he said, walking back to the bedroom.
"What, so you're just leaving now?" she asked.
"I have a case," he repeated.
"It's one in the morning," she said.
"That's part of my job," he said bitterly. "Accepting cases at one in the morning."
And with that, he finished packing his thing and walked out of the apartment, leaving Hermione sitting on one of the chairs as the microwave rang the pizza was ready and she wondered how things had gone wrong so quickly.
A/N: Sorry I'm late with the update of this chapter... I didn't really liked the end of it, so I tried - and failed - to find a new one. Reasons I hate fillers. On the bright side, I'm planning a Dean/Mya meeting on a hunt for the next chapter, so there's that.
I should also let you know that from now on, I'm moving the update day of this story to Thursdays, but I will continue to upload once a week.
One last thing, I got some reviews telling me that Hermione sounded like a sex-addict. I'd like to disagree. I believe that the intimic part of a relationship is just as important as the romantic part, and that without either of them, something is just missing. Hermione understands that (And she's been waiting for Dean for years now, you can't really blame a girl for wanting him).
Also, there's something I really don't like about the fact that when a man talks about sex, it's fine but when a woman talks about sex, she's called a whore. Just like I don't think it's right that when a man witholds sex in a relationship, he's called sweet, but when a woman does it, she's a prude. As a rule, my female characters do not hold back on that front. If they want something, they'll get it.
That's it, thanks for reading :)