THE FAMILY BUSINESS: TWO

Summary: Hermione's peaceful, yet boring life is disrupted when notorious hunter, Dean Winchester, walks into her book shop. Dean's life is completely changed when he meets, Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of her Age. But maybe that's just what they both needed. Mostly Dean's POV. Rated M for a reason.

Disclaimer: I do not own canon events and characters, they belong to J.K Rowling and the creators of Supernatural. I am not making a profit from writing and posting this fanfic.

AN: I'm going to try and stick to canon as much as possible but given that we've got a new character changes will have to be made. I'm not sure how far into canon or the plot of the show we'll go into as I've no plan for this and I'm basically just winging it, wanting to see where it takes us. I may also change the order in which some of the cases from the show appear, such as one from season three happening at the time of season one, instead.

Page count: 10

One Month Later...

Dean tilted his head to the side, his mouth tugging into a smile as he sat comfortably in a chair in the evening sun, happily sipping at a beer as he watched the scene in front of him.

Currently in the middle of the motel parking lot, was Hermione, and she washing the Impala. Their last case involved them having to drive down a few dirt roads and in the process the Impala had gotten covered in mud, dirt and dust. Not having time to do anything about it, they'd driven straight to their next destination and given that they arrived barely an hour ago, they'd decided to hold off investigating until the morning and Hermione had taken the opportunity to conjure up a bucket, a sponge and some water and set to cleaning the car.

"Honestly, Dean," Hermione huffed, making his smile slightly wider as she sent him an annoyed look. "If you can't look after her, you don't deserve her!"

"I look after her perfectly fine, thank you," he replied, holding back his chuckle when she sent him a glare.

Since travelling with her he'd gotten to see her temper, especially when a shape-shifter they'd been after had thrown an axe at her. Dean hadn't thought it was possible for someone's eyes to narrow so much, nor did he expect Hermione's response to the situation. He'd just stood back and let her deal with it, watching in surprise at the injuries she'd dished out. Some of them had even made him wince and had him shutting his eyes and looking away, almost feeling sorry for the shape-shifter. From the day he learned not to anger her, he'd learned her boundaries; how far he could push her before she snapped and lost her temper, and in doing so he was certain he'd saved his life countless times.

"Oh really?" She said, dropping the sponge into the bucket of soapy water, standing up straight and putting her hands on her hips. "Then why is she in such a state?"

"I would've gone to a car wash but I didn't see one on the way and I didn't want to stop during the drive."

"Then why aren't you washing the car now?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I wouldn't look as good as you do," he replied, lifting his beer bottle to his mouth to hide his smirk when her eyes narrowed into slits.

"You're pushing your luck," she warned him, before turning back to the car, picking up the sponge and continuing where she left off. "And it's your turn to buy dinner," she reminded him.

Dean rolled his eyes. Hermione was very stubborn when it came to meal times. He tried to buy her dinner on the first day they'd left Colorado but she'd point blank refused to allow him to pay for everything, as she did with every meal after, and he'd done the same, not wanting her to pay for every meal either. After only a few days of being together, Hermione had proposed that they alternated who paid for meals, as such one of them would buy breakfast and dinner and the other would buy lunch and snacks, and the following day they'd swap.

"I know, the woman at the counter had some takeout menus, I ordered not long ago so it should be here soon."

"What'd you get?" She asked, reaching up on her tiptoes to reach the roof of the car and he chuckled at her having to do so because compared to him, she was tiny.

"Pizza,"

"With lo..."

"Lots of meat, I know, Glinda."

"Don't call me that," she scowled at him.

He smirked in reply and took a swig from his bottle. Hearing the jingling of a bell, Dean prepared himself for the fat, ginger fur-ball that jumped up onto his lap and meowed in his face before rolling over onto his back and looking at him as if he were stupid.

"You're very demanding," Dean said amused, before lifting his hand to scratch at the ugly cat's stomach, earning a purr in response.

Dean couldn't deny that he'd grown to like the cat which in itself was odd for him as he was more of a dog person. If he were being honest, cats freaked him out and they had since he was a child, even before his mother had died. But Hermione's cat was very different and he'd come to understand that, just as he understood that he was also very clever.

Hermione hadn't been kidding about him being useful when they were working cases. Three weeks ago they'd been walking down the street -receiving strange glances from others as Crookshanks followed behind them as if he were a dog- when he'd suddenly started hissing, before taking off down the street and darting around a corner into a back alleyway. Hermione had immediately followed after him and seeing that she'd pulled her wand, Dean was quick on their heels.

The damn cat had led them straight to a shape-shifter; one that they hadn't even known was in town as they'd been working a simple salt and burn case. They'd taken out two supernatural beings in the space of a single day and as a reward Dean had bought Crookshanks some tuna and a ball of yarn, which the cat had played with for hours on the back seat of the Impala. Dean knew from Hermione that Crookshanks liked him, but since that day the cat had grown closer to him, as if he were his owner.

He didn't know how seeing as he locked the door and windows at night, but more often than not Dean would wake in the morning to a heavyweight on his legs and he'd get the fright of his life when the ugly fur-ball came into view. He didn't know how the damn cat was able to get out of Hermione's room and into his, but at this point, he'd stopped questioning it. The cat was clever, that's all he needed to know.

And Hermione hadn't been kidding about how much he slept either. Within ten minutes of being in the car, he'd fall asleep and wouldn't wake unless he needed the bathroom or they made a pit-stop and he'd stretch his legs before coming back to the car and falling asleep once more. Dean barely knew he was there, only remembering because every so often the cat would let out a loud snore-like purr in his sleep. Dean could play his music as loud as he wanted to and the cat would never once move or wake, and what made it even better, he'd learned that Hermione liked most of the same bands he did, her dad having been a fan of old rock and playing it in the car and around the house when she was growing up.

Lifting his eyes back to the little witch, he couldn't believe it'd been only a month since she'd agreed to travel and hunt with him and he'd be lying if he said she'd quickly wormed her way into his heart. He thought it funny how quickly he'd grown to care for her and he never stopped worrying about her safety no matter of her magic protecting her in ways that should've been impossible and he was especially impressed with her magical shields.

In the little time they'd been together, he'd gotten to know her almost as well as he knew his brother. Spending so much time together, being in a confined space for hours on end together, watching out for each other and relying on one another, it created a bond of more than just trust. And Dean was glad to see that Hermione did trust him as he'd proven to her that she could. He listened to her concerns regarding their safety before he went in guns blazing, he listened to her precaution methods which she wished to implement and if they had a plan –which they always did thanks to her- he never veered from it. He waited for her to use her magic to do a perimeter check and to give the all-clear, and it was the thing that most resonated with her after what had happened to her late partner.

He'd grown to understand that while she was cautious and she took their safety seriously, she was fearless and fierce. Dean was glad she was on his side as he'd hate to be the one going up against her, especially after everything he'd witnessed.

She was funny; he'd honestly never met someone who could make him laugh like she could. She made the hunting lifestyle less stressful, not only with her magic, but with her calming presence and her quick wit. She had a strange sense of humour but he related to it. She had the uncanny ability to find humour in the most unlikely and dangerous situations. They were once in the middle of an abandoned house and despite there being a violent spirit that was trying to kill them with flying knives and broken pieces of furniture, she'd still found a way to crack a few jokes that had him laughing when he most certainly should've been focusing on staying alive. He didn't know how either of them had made it out of the house unscathed.

The hours spent together driving between cases never felt as long as they actually were because she always kept him entertained, telling him wild and unbelievable stories of cases she'd worked with her late partner, telling him more about the Wizarding World and the magical school she'd gone, too. He'd learned the war was a touchy subject for her, so he never brought it up, but when she felt like sharing more of her past, he listened without interrupting.

And another thing, she cheated at poker! When they played against each other to kill a bit of time, their bets usually being food-related rather than monetary, he thought it was a bit annoying because he cheated, too, but she was better at it given her magic. When she played against others when at a bar, he thought it was the best thing ever. She was the perfect hustler because no one suspected her of cheating! They made the perfect team, he hustled at pool and she poker, together they made more than enough to last them a few days without him leaving behind a trace with using one of his fraudulent credit cards.

He'd known within the first few moments of meeting her that she was kind, but he hadn't realised just how kind she was. When leaving a diner she'd leave a tip that was more than enough; she bought food and drink or new clothing and a thick blanket to give to the homeless. She'd even helped a little girl when her cat had gotten stuck in a tree, climbing it like Tarzan, and by the time the firemen had arrived to help, she'd already gotten the cat down and given it back to the little girl and drawn a fairly big crowd, too.

When speaking with the friends and families of victims, she was able to calm them in a way he'd never been able to. It was more than her just being a woman and making others comfortable, it was something else entirely, something he wasn't able to explain but he knew the feeling. When around her she calmed him in a way he'd never felt before. He was always ready for an attack, but he still felt calm, he still felt relaxed and peaceful.

And God was she smart! He'd never met anyone with as big a brain as her. Seeing as he'd always found the research part of the job boring and he hated it, Hermione had taken up the mantle and he couldn't deny she was good at it. The majority of the time she'd found what they were looking for within an hour or two and she was able to cite her sources, as well spout off page numbers and extracts from the books. Though he'd learned it was best that she stay away from computers after witnessing an incident in a library and it hadn't been pretty, and since that day if online research was needed he reluctantly did it.

She absorbed knowledge like a sponge and she was a fast learner, having learned the majority of the exorcism chants he knew in only a few days. He now understood why she was a language expert, too, learning that the majority of her spells were Latin, while there was a few French, Spanish and Mandarin in her repertoire, too. And she was a whiz at translating ancient texts; he'd been surprised to learn she'd been doing so since she was thirteen. And while he was an expert on the supernatural, she was most certainly the expert on creatures such as vampires and werewolves, spouting off information he'd never even heard of before and he was more than surprised to learn.

"Dean, pass me that cloth, would you?"

Dean shook his head, reached over to grab the cloth from the table beside him and threw it over to her. Of course, it was too light to actually reach her and it landed on the floor in-between them.

"There you go, Poppins."

"You really need to stop stereotyping me or I swear to God you'll soon feel a true witch's hexing. And if you ever call me Poppins or Glinda again, I'll knock you out and dump you in the middle of nowhere without a single stitch of clothing," she warned with narrowed eyes, before walking over to pick the cloth up from the ground and of course, he was helpless but to look at her ass when she bent over.

Catching sight of something from the corner of his eye, he turned his head to the left, seeing several young-looking men –probably college kids, he thought- either standing in the doorways of their rooms or looking out the windows and they weren't trying to hide the fact they watching her, too.

A glare found its way onto his face and he felt jealousy and annoyance bubble up within him. Logically he knew he had no right to feel such things, as he and Hermione's weren't actually together, nor were they sleeping together, but that didn't stop those feelings from surfacing. The one downside to travelling with Hermione was that with her being both beautiful and British, she got plenty of attention, especially when they'd go for a drink at a bar. Dean hated that other men would approach her and offer to buy her a drink, that they'd try to sweet-talk her into going home with them and he hated it even more that they did it right in front of him.

Once he'd almost broken a guy's nose because he'd grabbed Hermione's ass when she'd walked past him on the way to the bathroom. That night Hermione had proven that despite her size, she was stronger than he realised, and he'd never felt more proud when she'd turned around and gave the guy a black eye with a right hook that was so impressive, it surprised him she was capable of such a thing.

He hated when she'd smile at other men and talked to them and it would encourage them to continue trying to get into her pants. The one thing that brought him comfort was that he knew she had her head screwed on, he knew she was only responding to be kind and he knew she had no intentions of going home with a stranger, no matter how good looking he was, no matter how much he complimented her and no matter how many times he tried to buy her a drink as she'd always refuse the offer.

He'd asked her once, why she never showed an interest in any of the men that approached her and she'd explained that she could never bring herself to have a one night stand. She had no problem with others doing so and living their lives how they wished to, but she needed more from a man that a drunken tumble in the sheets. She needed to be able to trust the man she entered into a relationship with.

And that had got him thinking; from the moment he met her she'd done nothing but make him laugh, watch his back and ensure his safety. She'd done nothing but tease him, and annoy him and outsmart him. He was attracted to her and he took the opportunity to flirt with her as much as possible, whether she knew he was flirting or not was another thing entirely. He enjoyed her company, she kept him sane and she made his life easier, a little brighter. He thought her to be his personal ball of sunshine; she was always smiling, always singing under her breath or dancing about in her seat in the car.

And he knew her views on one night stands, but as the days went by and they grew closer, he found himself wondering what it would be like to actually have a relationship. He'd never actually had a girlfriend; he didn't even think he'd slept with the same woman more than once. He liked Hermione far too much to ever just use her in such a way. He hated seeing other men show their interest in her. He was protective of her, not as a friend and certainly not as a brother, because he'd come to realise that he liked her.

He was curious to know what being in a relationship with Hermione would be like; though he was sure it wouldn't be much different to what they were now but they'd likely share a room instead, at least her damn cat wouldn't have to sneak into his room when he was asleep.

He had to decide if he wished to take the risk, because that's what it was. A risk. If he took a chance and showed his interest in her it could go one of three ways; her rejecting him which may lead to awkwardness between them, or she'd do the opposite, in which could be dangerous as they spent so much time together they'd barely have a break from each other or space to themselves. Or everything could go just fine and they'd continue as they were, only they'd be together.

It was a huge risk because he did care for her and she was his best friend and he didn't want to jeopardise what they already had. But he couldn't stand the thought of her being with someone else, but he couldn't stand the thought of her leaving over something he'd done.

"Oi!"

Dean's eyes lifted from the ground and to Hermione to see her standing with her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed at the young men watching her from across the parking lot. His mouth twitched, recognising her current stance and the annoyed look on her face.

"Are you perverts going to stand there all day or are you going to help me?" She called.

Dean turned to look at the young men, laughter threatening to bubble out of him as some of them looked sickly, some of them went bright red in the face and others shifted nervously and looked away from Hermione.

"That's what I thought," Hermione said. "I really don't wish to feature in any of your weird little fantasies when you have a wank tonight, so I suggest you do what other men do and watch some porn and delete your internet history afterwards."

Dean couldn't hold back his laughter and it burst out of him and he received a look of annoyance from the fur-ball on his lap, but he didn't care.

"And I swear to God, if any of you little creeps have taken any photographs, I'd delete them now or I'll break each and every one of your noses!" She threatened before her attention was pulled by the delivery guy and her eyes lit up.

Sobering up, Dean shook his head in amusement; he could honestly say he'd never met someone who ate as much as Hermione did. He'd seen her eat almost double what he did and then finish off the rest of his food, claiming that she hated waste. He didn't understand how someone as small as she could eat so much.

Gently nudging Crookshanks off his lap, he put his beer down and dug into his pocket to pull out some money to pay for their food. By the time he approached the delivery guy, Hermione had already finished up with drying the car, made her way over to him and darted off with the pizza boxes in hand.

Rolling his eyes, he paid the delivery guy and followed after Hermione into his room, seeing Crookshanks being sprawled out on his bed and lounging in the evening sun that streamed through the window, and Hermione was sat at the table with all three pizza boxes open and she already had two slices in her hands.

"That's mine," he said, shrugging off his leather jacket, hooking it over the back of the chair and taking a seat opposite her.

She shrugged her shoulders. "It smelt good, I couldn't resist," she replied, before she put one slice in her mouth, reached down to pick up another from her own box and placing it in his to make up for her stealing one of his.

Dean blinked in surprise; she never shared food, not even with her cat.

"So, what do you think we're dealing with?" She asked.

"Can't be sure until we do a bit of digging," he replied.

"Wanna make a bet?" She asked. "If you can correctly guess what we're dealing with before we start investigating, I'll bake you as many pies as you want for an entire month."

He knew that was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"And if I don't?"

"You owe me," she shrugged.

"Owe you what?"

"You owe me a favour and I can call upon it whenever I need to, there's no time limit."

He eyed her curiously before slowly nodding his head, besides, the little information they had was enough to make a guesstimate.

"Bobby said there's been several unexplained deaths in the last couple of months, and there seems to happen every couple of years. He only went as far back as ten years but when we start investigating I won't be surprised if we discover this goes back further. Going off that, I'm going to say it's either a violent or vengeful spirit, a simple salt and burn," he said.

She snorted at him. "I don't know what you mean by simple, as I've yet to see a simple case with you."

He conceded her point, knowing she was right. Nothing was ever as easy as it should've been.

"You know, I'm getting tired of fast food and diners," Hermione spoke. "How about tomorrow I whip up something with a little magic instead?"

"You can do that?" He asked.

"It's impossible to conjure food out of thin air, just as it's impossible to duplicate food, but there are culinary spells that speed up the cooking of food and there's spells to aid with the preparation of food and ingredients. I'll be limited to what I can cook without an oven but it's possible. Anything you fancy?"

His face pulled into a thoughtful frown. "Spaghetti," he answered.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd eaten spaghetti; he used to avoid it when he was younger as he remembered it being his mother's signature dish, but as Sam grew older it became one of his favourites. Dean wondered if he'd chosen that dish due to him missing his brother. They may not have always seen eye to eye and despite the falling out Sam and their father had, they were still brothers. One day he was there and the next he'd run off to college. They barely spoke anymore and Dean wouldn't admit it out loud but he did miss his little brother, at least a little.

"Spaghetti, I can do that," she nodded. "I just need a pan, some water and an open flame. Alright, spaghetti it is."

Dean felt his mouth tug into a smile and his eyes darted down to his pocket where his cell phone was hidden away. Maybe he should call his brother and see how he was doing, but would he answer?

Shaking his head, Dean decided against it, not wanting to disturb his little brother when he was out trying to live his life. He couldn't blame Sam for wanting to leave, for not wanting to join the family business, but at the same time he couldn't actually believe he'd just up and left, and that he'd done so after an argument.

"Dean!"

Dean shook his head and looked down at the pizza crust Hermione had just thrown at him.

"Don't start something you can't finish," he warned in amusement.

"It's not my fault you were ignoring me," she replied. "I said I'm going for a walk and then I'll turn in for the night. I have a feeling it's going to be a long day tomorrow."

"Be careful," he said.

"You're forgetting who you're talking to," she said, standing from the table and banishing the empty pizza boxes with her wand, before leaving out the room.

Dean's eyes followed her movements from his place sat in front of the window before she vanished from view.

"She'll be okay, right?" He asked aloud, receiving a meow in response from the lazy, fat cat sprawled out and sunbathing on his bed. "Yeah, I think so, too. Right, I'm going for a shower, keep an eye on things out here," he said to the cat, once more earning a meow in response.

Standing from the table, he headed for the bathroom, scratching the cat behind the ears as he walked past him. Stepping into the bathroom, Dean had decided he wanted Hermione. Not just for sex, not just for a bit of fun; he wanted all of her. And her damn cat, too.