CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE


Summary: Nine years after the war, Hermione's the Head of the Auror Department that specialises in dealing with Magical Creatures and fugitive Death Eaters that are loose in the Muggle World. With the fugitive Death Eaters no longer hiding in Britain, she's tracking rogue Death Eaters in the United States, which leads her to The Winchester brothers. The Witch and The Hunters are a dynamic trio that no creature, being or beast wishes to mess with, Magical or Supernatural. Hermione/Dean pairing. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: I don't own original canon characters or events, just those that I create myself. Everything belongs to J.K Rowling and the creators of Supernatural. I am not making a profit posting this fanfic.


Page count: 7


As Hermione came to, she quickly became aware of the soft leather beneath her, of the sound of a familiar engine, of the car moving and of the scent of Dean Winchester.

She shifted, realising that although her shoes had been removed, she was still in her clothing, a pillow cushioned her head and a blanket covered her, keeping her warm.

She made a sound of pain and slowly brought her hand up to her aching head, she heard the shifting in the seat in front of her, and several minutes later, the car came to a stop and the engine was shut off.

As the pain began to cease, she carefully pushed herself until she was sitting up and her eyes locked on Dean's.

"Careful, Sweetheart, you took a bang to the head," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, just a little sore. Thank you."

"For what?" He frowned.

"For rescuing me," she looked down at the ground. "I know it must've been an inconvenience to you and I ruined your plans but..."

"Hermione, you are not an inconvenience," he told her firmly, sounding appalled that she even thought that of herself. "When you need me, not even death will stop me from being there for you."

She looked down, feeling conflicted.

"Why did Sam tell me you were going back to England?" He asked her, in a tone that made it sound as though he was trying to remain calm.

She shrugged her shoulders pitifully and fiddled with her fingers. "You didn't come back," she said quietly. "Sam promised me you would, but you didn't. I took that to mean you no longer wanted anything to do with me, and I didn't want to outstay my welcome. Whether you wanted me or not, I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you."

She looked up, seeing that there was a panicked look on his face.

"You're leaving," he whispered.

She shrugged again. "You didn't take the reveal well, and I assumed you hated me."

"Don't be fucking stupid!" He snapped, and her eyes flew up to his, seeing that aside from the panic, there was also anger there, too. "I don't hate you and I never have." She felt tears beginning to well up in her eyes. "If you want to leave, then don't let me keep you here."

"So you do want me to go?"

"Of course I don't want you to leave, you're my wife."

Her eyes widened at his words and at that point, she began sobbing in the back seat, her head in her hands and her body hunched over.

She heard the car door opening and closing before she was enveloped in the arms of Dean, and she felt herself melt into him as she brought her hands away from her face and wrapped them around him tightly.

"I'm sorry for shouting at you," he said softly, placing a kiss to her forehead. "But you've seriously misunderstood the situation. I left because I needed some fresh air and some time alone to process what we'd learned. I lost track of time and I was going to come back to Bobby's and talk to you, when that blonde got in the way. I'm sorry if I made you feel as though I don't want you."

"I'm so sorry," she cried into him. "But when you didn't come back every possible negative thought ran through my mind and they all said that you hated me, because I had trapped you in a relationship that will affectively be bound for life, possibly death, too."

He sighed. "I get it, emotions were running high, particularly for you since you found out that your mother wasn't who you thought she was. I'm not surprised that you're part Angel, well, I am a little, but to me you've always been my Angel," he confessed. "You've made me a better person. You've made my life better with your presence alone. You give me a reason to get up in the morning and to continue doing what I do. Despite the circumstances, we knew there was something different about us, and it just so happens that it's something you mentioned before. We're fated, there's no point in denying that and there's no point in denying that I want to be with you, no matter your lineage or magic."

She sniffled and snuggled into him.

"Please don't leave," he whispered. "Be my unknowing wife again?"

A laugh-cry sounded from her and she nodded. "Only if you'll be my unknowing husband again," she replied.

"For as long as you want me," he mumbled against her ear and her breath caught.

They pulled back to look each other in the eyes and he wiped away her tears, seeing that the tears in her eyes were drying up, too, and there was a happiness to them.

"There's my girl," he said gently. "It's nice to see your eyes shining again."

"You're the only man that can change my mood in milliseconds."

He chuckled at her, before he sighed and his eyes turned soft, yet serious.

"I...I..." His jaw ticked and his eyes closed.

When he felt her hand on his jaw he opened his eyes, getting caught in her gaze.

"I know," she said gently, making his eyes widen further. "I know, I can always tell what you're feeling by your eyes. I love you, too," she whispered.

"You do?" He spoke in a barely heard whisper, and Hermione could see the vulnerability he was showing her.

"I would give magic up for you," she confessed.

She found herself being pulled into a bone crushing hug and the oxygen from her lungs was squeezed out of her, making it difficult to breathe, but she didn't complain. She wrapped her arms around him in return and she rested her forehead against his shoulder.

"I'd give up hunting if you asked me to," he spoke into her ear.

"I'd never ask you to, it's who you are and for me to ask that of you would be unforgivable."

"And I'd never ask you to give up your magic, you're a witch, it's who you are and you've done a lot of good with your magic."

"That's good to hear, since I don't think I can actually give up my magic since I was born with it. I might be able to suppress it, but I can't physically get rid of it."

"I don't want you to suppress it. You don't need to change who you are."

"Neither do you."

She snuggled into him further and she sighed when she felt peace wash over her, the events of the day remembered but dealt with.

She sighed when he began placing kisses against her cheek and she bit her lip and gripped his leather jacket tightly when he moved his lips lower and found the weak spot behind her ear.

She pulled back and their mouths met instantly, she fell backwards, pulling him down onto her and she sighed when she felt his weight on top of her. There was no hesitation, no patience and no gentleness, as their hands roamed at the other's body; they had been away from each other for too long.

She tugged his leather jacket off his shoulders and down his arms and it fell to the floor of the car, in which his t-shirt quickly followed, as did hers. He was tugging at her jeans, trying to get the button undone when he pulled back from her and glared at it with a growl in the back of his throat.

She laughed breathlessly and his glare turned to her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before muttering, "Divesto," and all of their clothing was removed instantly, leaving them naked to the other's gaze.

"Next time, lead with that," he told her.

Her laughter was cut off when he latched his mouth back onto hers and covered her with his body, his hands wandering her body until he reached the apex of her thighs and she gasped as he ran his hand through her slick folds and plunged two fingers into her entrance.

Her back arched and she tore her mouth from his, her breathing quickening and sounds of pleasure growing louder and more frequent as she neared her climax, and he watched as she was putty in his hands. His eyes remained glued to her face, as her eyes were screwed shut tightly, her skin had flushed pink and her mouth was parted slightly as she struggled to breathe.

Her nails dug into his shoulders and he felt content in knowing that she was his, she wasn't leaving him but staying. She loved him. He could feel her claws beginning to make an appearance as they pierced his skin. He had missed her.

He lowered his head and whispered into her ear, "Purr for me," his tone husky and thick with lust and emotion.

She gasped and her eyes opened, the glowing feline orbs quickly locking gazes with the darkened green hovering above her. He twisted his fingers and her head flew back as the tightly coiled spring inside of her snapped and she let out a purr that made his ears ring, as if Angels were singing to him.

He shifted above her and slid into her, being enveloped by her warm silkiness, her walls still fluttering as he caught the tail end of her orgasm. Her hold on him tightened as they both voiced their feelings of being connected once again after so long a wait. She sagged into the leather of the seat beneath her, pulling Dean closer to her as she got her breathing back under control and relished in the feeling of being with him once again. He was breathing heavily, muttering against her neck as he placed teasing kisses to her flushed skin.

She shifted beneath him and he took the cue from her, pulling back and thrusting into her with a steady rhythm that hit every nerve inside of her and made her eyes cross from the pleasure. She could feel the coil inside of her tightening but it wasn't quite enough to push her over the edge.

She quickly flipped them, sitting up and using her hands to balance herself as he gripped at her hips tightly and helped her to move over him. He kept his eyes on her, watching the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed heavily. Watching as her hair spilled over her shoulders and stuck to her sweat slicked skin. Watching as her feline eyes glowed in the dark and her skin flushed a brighter pink.

He pulled her down against him and wrapped her up in his arms, latching his mouth onto hers, catching the purrs that were beginning to make themselves known to him. He knew she was close at the sound and she was fluttering around him, until the coil snapped. She pulled her mouth from his, purring loudly against his ear as she raked her hands down his chest and fell over the edge. His hold on her tightened and he groaned from the pain of the marks she left on him, and in relief when she pulled him over the edge with her.

As they both got their breathing back under control, Hermione whispered a spell to the clean them both up and they got themselves comfortable and covered themselves with the blanket.

Hermione laid on Dean's chest with her ear pressed over his heart, listening as it beat a steady rhythm, as she traced his anti-possession tattoo with her light touch. Dean had a hand buried in her hair, massaging her scalp and the other arm was wrapped around her, keeping her to him and tracing the skin of her back.

"I missed you," she sighed.

He chuckled. "I missed you, too," he replied, placing a kiss to her forehead.

"The way you feel about me isn't because of the bond," she told him.

"What?"

"The way you feel about me isn't a product of the bond. You are not forced to care for me, or even to like me."

"I thought we were fated," he frowned.

"We are, but that doesn't mean it dictates our feelings for the other."

"I'm not following."

"We are essentially soul mates, each other's perfect match. For this to occur, it means we have more similarities than we do differences, as we are essentially one person sharing a soul. If you have two people that are fated and they share your worst traits, can you imagine how that relationship would go? Particularly if you're cruel or violent, or a psychopath?"

"I can," he nodded.

"Two people could be soul mates, but they may not love each other, in fact, they may even hate each other but because they are bound together, they are forced to share a life and they can't be away from each other for long periods of time, as we now know. They can be civil with each other, they may even be best friends or they may love each other. Just because they are each other's perfect match, doesn't mean they can't hate each other. They will be drawn together like we were, but that doesn't dictate your feelings. Any feelings we have for the other is not forced, we have free will in our decisions and emotions," she explained.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I don't want you to resent me, I don't want you to blame me for the fact that we're fated and I don't want you to accuse me of any misdeeds in the future."

He lifted her head with a finger under her chin, making it so they could lock gazes.

"I don't blame you for our circumstances, I could never resent you, no matter what you do and I'm last person that will ever accuse you of any misdeeds. You always do what's best for those involved and there's not an evil bone in your body."

"I'm vindictive," she reminded him.

He chuckled. "I'm aware," he said amused. "You're vindictive, but you're not evil."

She laid back down against him, letting the peaceful silence wash over them.

"I have to go back to England." She felt him stiffen beneath her. "I'm not leaving you," she promised and he relaxed after her words. "I still have responsibilities that I need to attend to, but since this whole fiasco came about, I've been unable to deal with them."

"What do you need to do?" He asked her curiously.

"The trials should be over by now, I have testified in every trial I needed to. I still haven't had chance to call the quarterly meeting for my department and that's going to be a pain in the arse, since my aurors are spread about the globe and I have to give them a few days notice so they can make their way back to England. And I need to finish my part of training the new recruits and carry out the interview process for those that wish to join my department."

"When do you plan to leave?"

"As soon as I can. Do you want to come with me?"

"What?" He said dumbly.

"Do you want to come to England with me? I'll be gone for at least a week and I don't fancy being away from you for that long, especially now that we know what happens when we're separated."

"I don't have a passport and I hate flying."

She laughed at him. "You don't need one, we'll take magical transportation."

"Where will we stay?"

"My apartment in London."

"Just how rich are you?" He asked, surprised.

"Well, Mr. Winchester, you have just found yourself tied to Europe's most eligible bachelorette, well, I guess I'm not that anymore since I'm officially off the market."

"I've done well for myself," he muttered, pushing her hair back from her face.

"Not as well as I," she replied softly.

He didn't know what she saw in him. He knew he was handsome, he'd seen himself in the mirror and it wasn't hard for him to pick women up when he wanted to, but aside from his looks, he was nothing.

He was so inferior to her kindness, to her compassion and loyalty. To her intelligence and wit. To her strength and fierceness. He was inferior to her in every way possible, yet she treated him like an equal. She treated him like he was a normal human being, whilst at the same time, like he was special to her. There was nothing she could say to convince him that she had the better end of the deal.

He knew he was incredibly lucky to have found her, and now that they were tied together in marriage, there was not a chance in hell he was ever going to let anyone take her away from him.