THE FAMILY BUSINESS: FIVE

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. A series of one-shots based on their lives together. 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

Here's a big one for you. I did promise that as this wasn't technically in a story format, rather a series of one-shots, that there would be no cliff hangers, so I didn't even bother trying to split it into two. And seeing as this is a series, there will be time jumps in most of the chapters/one-shots. And I will be deliberately moving the timeline of cases around for my own amusement.

I promise, I am still working on my other fics, but with this one being all shiny and new, the muse is being fabulous for this one and a pain in the arse for the others. I'll hopefully have a new chapter up for either 'IWPY' 'PL' or 'EID' in a few days.

Q&A

Dramione1028 – I've got one more chapter/one-shot after this one, and then we'll be moving into the plot for Season 1, so Sam will be joining Hermione and Dean. And Harry and Ron will be making a little appearance soon enough, too.

AmethystRoseMalfoy – I really enjoyed writing that pairing, too, and I've been asked to do a Hermione/Derek/Parrish pairing so I'll hopefully have something in the works soon.

Page count: 20

One week later...

Dean was frustrated; he knew it and he couldn't hide it. It'd been three and a half months since meeting Hermione and two and half of that he'd spent trying to show her what he truly thought and wanted. That he wanted a relationship with her and he'd been unsuccessful. He no longer knew what to do and it was stressing him out and Hermione had most certainly noticed as she'd been sending him strange looks for the last few days.

He thought he'd been doing a good job, but apparently not. He was sure even the damn cat knew, but Hermione was clueless. It was getting to the point he thought about just biting the bullet and telling her face to face, willing to accept her response no matter what it was.

The more time he spent with her, the deeper he felt for her and he was helpless to stop it. How could he not want her? How could he not care for her? How could she not be perfect for him? She was practically him in female form, just with a little less swearing, though he knew she had quite the vocabulary on her when she was pissed that someone or thing had tried to kill her, or when someone grabbed at her without her say so and he wasn't too pleased in those situations either, if he were being honest.

And he couldn't stop thinking about the kiss they'd shared, about the way she'd felt being pressed between him and the wall, about the way she'd buried her hands in his hair and tugged at the strands, about the way his own had gotten tangled in her soft, wild mane or about the way her lips had been soft and warm and they'd moulded against his almost perfectly.

Sighing, Dean stood from his bed in need of a drink. They'd recently dealt with the demon responsible for the murders they'd been investigating and, of course, Hermione had done well with her first official exorcism. They'd returned straight to their motel and had only been back an hour, meaning Dean knew Hermione would soon want feeding.

He slipped on his leather jacket, grabbed his car keys from the table and opened the door, nearly ploughing straight into Hermione. She had an annoyed look on her face and he knew what was coming next.

"Shower broken again?"

"Not quite," she replied, a towel slung over her arm and Crookshanks waltzing through the open door and into the room as if he owned the place. "The temperature doesn't seem to want to go past lukewarm and the water pressure's rubbish, all that I could live with. What I can't live with is the big arse hole in the wall, I can see straight through to next door's bathroom. I saw the guy that's in there earlier on and he gives me the creeps," she shivered. "You mind?"

"Nope, I'm going to get dinner anyway, what do you want?"

"Anything, I'm not bothered, but I want dessert."

"I'll order from the nearby diner then, chocolate cake?"

"And ice cream," she nodded. "I'll see you when you get back," she said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her as he headed to the Impala.

He hadn't been gone long and by the time he returned to the motel, he was sure Hermione would've been done with her shower and complaining about her hunger. After unlocking the door and stepping into his room, he was surprised to hear the shower running, but more importantly, the bathroom door was wide open.

Putting the bags down onto the table and unable to stop himself, he moved across the room and to the bathroom, the heat of the steam hitting him instantly and a strong scent of apples invading his nose. He slowly peeked his head around the door and his jaw fell slack, his heartbeat picked up and his stomach twisted.

This particular motel had a shower enclosure rather than a shower bath and therefore he could see the shape of Hermione's figure through the steamed up glass. While the majority of her frame was covered by the glass, he could see her feet and calves, as well as her head down to her shoulders.

He knew he should've backed out of the room and closed the door behind him to give her some privacy, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He felt drawn to her and like a moth to a flame, he went.

Stepping into the room completely, he noted that Hermione had her back to him and her wet hair was plastered down her back. She tilted her head to the side and water ran down her neck and over her shoulder and she brought a hand up to massage at it, a little sigh leaving her.

Dean's mouth went dry and he found himself taking a step closer. It was like he was no longer in control of his body or his mind; he just wanted to be closer to her.

"It took you long enough."

Dean froze as he'd just been about to take another step forward and Hermione turned to look at him over her shoulder, not looking embarrassed, annoyed or even angry. In fact, she looked amused, like she'd been expecting it.

"Are you getting in or not?"

Dean wasn't quite sure what was happening but he was never one to miss an opportunity when it presented itself, he just hoped it didn't come back to bite him in the ass. With his gaze locked on hers and wondering just what she thinking, he brought his hands up to his clothing and slowly but confidently stripped until he was left in only his underwear.

Her eyes didn't stray from his and upon not hearing her change her mind or say that she'd been messing with him, he took another step towards the shower. As he reached the shower he stepped out of his last item of clothing before opening the door and stepping into the small shower with her.

Still, her eyes remained on his, not wavering despite him getting the feeling that she wanted to see all of him, and he did the same. She took a step back, allowing him to close the door behind him, trapping them in the small shower together and he took a step forward, the spray of the hot water covering him.

He didn't speak, not knowing what to say and despite the tense atmosphere, something about it just felt right.

"You look confused," she spoke after several moments of silence and them just staring at each other.

"I am," he admitted, a slight frown pulling at his face. He wasn't sure how to feel when her mouth twitched into a smirk.

"You're a difficult man to understand," she commented. "But I had you pegged as soon as you walked into my shop. I know a non-committer when I see one." He opened his mouth to defend himself but she didn't allow him the chance to. "But I also know that you wanting to sleep with me changed as you spent more time around me, especially when I said we were friends. It's evident that you're not used to doing all the chasing, and so I thought I'd change that."

Feeling confused and surprised, he just blinked, unable to think of a response.

"I knew exactly what you were doing; I wasn't blind to how you grew tense when a guy approached me, how you were angry when someone tried to feel me up, or how you flirted with me constantly. I deliberately ignored all of that because I wanted you to have to work for it. But when two months passed and you seemed to be struggling with ways to get my attention I thought I'd help you out and drop a few little hints."

"Meaning?" He muttered, his eyes still locked with hers.

"Do you honestly believe the showers in my rooms were broken? Or that I had noisy neighbours? Or that my bed was broken? Or even that time I had a leaky roof? How about my door not locking properly? Though I admit, the first time my shower was broken and my room was awful."

"I'm not following," he said.

She rolled her eyes. "The showers were never broken, if I had noisy neighbours I could've easily cast a Silencing Charm, if my bed was broken I could've repaired it with magic, and the door, I could've locked it with a spell. They were excuses, all of which I'd hope you'd pick up on and it would give you a little nudge. I purposely left out my spell books for you; I'd thought your curiosity would've gotten the better of you and you'd find that there were spells to easily fix my problems, yet I hadn't used them and you'd wonder why."

"So you lied?" He said slowly.

"Hmm," she hummed, a smile tugging at her mouth. "I lied. Do you honestly think I couldn't have gotten us out of that house last week without the police knowing? You're forgetting I can teleport."

"You'd planned on kissing me," he muttered in realisation.

She smirked at him. "Just another nudge," she said. "And yet another week went by and you were still holding back and walking around clueless. I got bored of waiting, hence us being here now."

Dean took a deep breath and breathed out slowly.

"Damn it, Witch!" He cursed, before he surged forward, taking Hermione's head in his hands and he kissed her.

Her laughter was muffled by his mouth and it soon stopped when he nipped at her lip, his tongue darting out to soothe the sting. Her arms moved to hook around his neck and she stood up on her tiptoes, bringing herself closer to him. His own hands dropped down and snaked around her back, pulling her flush against and he backed her up until she hit the wall behind her, a little noise of surprise falling from her lips. Hearing the sound Dean sought entrance past her lips and Hermione opened for him, her tongue moving to greet his.

Hermione's hands snaked into his hair, tugging on the strands and her nails scratching against his scalp, pulling a groan of approval from him. He shifted his hands lower, giving her arse a squeeze before hiking her up off the ground, pressing her against the wall and her legs wrapped around him.

The need for oxygen forced him to pull back from her no matter how much he didn't want to and he buried his face against her neck, bestowing her skin with little nips and kisses that had her sighing and tilting her head to give him better access.

"You're going to be the death of me," he muttered against her skin.

She let out a breathless laugh. "I don't think so; I'm the only thing that's keeping you alive. I honestly don't know how you survived before we met."

"Barely," he admitted.

His hands wandered, tracing over her hips and sides and feeling several raised scars beneath his fingers, before his hands brushed the sides of her breasts and he felt her hand tighten in his hair. Amused by her response, he cupped her breasts in his hands, massaging and kneading them, pulling a sigh from her.

"I hope you don't have any plans of teasing and drawing this out."

"Why's that?" He asked, feeling a smirk pull at his mouth and in response to feeling it against her throat as he nipped and sucked at her skin lazily, she tugged on his hair.

"Admittedly, it's been a while and if this isn't over soon, I might accidentally set something on fire. It's happened before."

Well, that was interesting, he thought.

"Just how long are we talking?"

"Eight months, maybe a little longer," she replied.

It'd been a while for him, too, about a month before meeting her which would bring it up to about four and half months. That really was a while for him, and he thought she was onto something. He wasn't sure he'd been able to draw it out anyway. He'd been thinking about nothing but her for months and it was finally happening.

"Fine, but once we've recovered, you're not going to know what's hit you," he muttered.

"Challenge accepted," she breathed out and her breath hitched, throwing her head back against the wall when his fingers moved to toy with her nipples and his mouth moved to tugging at her ear lobe.

"You sure?" He spoke against her ear.

"Two can play that game, just remember that."

"I look forward to it," he replied, before pulling back from her and taking her mouth in a consuming kiss.

A groan sounded from him when her hand slipped from his hair and her fingers lightly trailed down his chest, tickling his nipples as she skimmed over them and she didn't stop until her hand curled around his length. He wondered if she were able to read his mind as she seemed to be doing everything he wanted, applying the right amount of pressure, using the right speed as she pumped her hand over him, her nails being drawn over him gently and teasingly.

He was in danger of showing himself up and he hadn't been in such a way since he was a teenager. She made him feel nervous, but confident. Strong but vulnerable. Smart but stupid. She had a power over him, something he'd never experienced with another woman. He wasn't quite sure what it was but he knew that all she needed do was snap her fingers and he'd come running. He knew he'd gladly sacrifice himself to ensure her safety. He knew that along as he had her friendship and her trust, he'd been a happy man.

Needing to turn the tables before he embarrassed himself, he buried a hand in-between them, feeling an alarmingly large scar on his way down to her centre, but not bringing note to the fact. He might've been curious but this wasn't the time or place to question her about it.

She gave a breathless moan and her head flew back against the wall when he ran his fingers through her slick folds and without warning plunged two fingers straight into her. He'd swear he'd never heard a more interesting sound, it rang in his ears and his length twitched in her hand.

His eyes were glued to her face, watching as she breathed heavily, as her teeth sunk into her bottom lip and her cheeks flushed pink. He quite liked the colour on her. He struggled to remain in control when she timed the pumping of her hand to match with his own and the pressure she applied was a little tighter. The hand still gripping at his hair tugged and she let out a moan when he changed the angle of his fingers entering her. She must've been really sensitive as he soon felt her walls starting to pulse around his fingers and he buried his head in her neck, peppering her skin with nips, licks and kisses and moving down to her collar bones.

As he ducked his head lower he caught sight of the thick scar that almost seemed to cut her abdomen in half and though he felt anger that someone had dared to cause her such harm, he was able to push it aside and focus on her instead. His mouth closed around a nipple and as he nipped, licked and sucked, her little whimpers and sighs grew louder, her hips rocked against his hand more insistently and her grip on his length tightened, her movements stopping and starting every few seconds as she tried to remain in control.

He didn't want that, he wanted her to lose control.

His thumb found her little bundle of nerves and as he applied pressure to it, Hermione broke. Her eyes screwed shut, her legs tightened around his waist and she tugged at his hair. A keening whine tore from the back of her throat as her walls clamped around him and he guided her through the wave of pleasure.

She slumped back into the wall, breathing heavily with her eyes still closed and her mouth pulling into a smile before her teeth sunk into her lower lip. Her hand restarted the pumps over his length and she opened her eyes, lifting her head and locking gazes with him. He was unsure of what she saw on his face but her own eyes seemed to darken in response and she surged forward, claiming his mouth as though she owned it and it belonged to her.

He quite liked the idea of belonging to her.

Groaning when her hand pumped faster and she slid her tongue against his, his hands moved from in-between them and he gripped at her hips. Dean was positive she was able to read his mind, as the moment he thought he just had to be inside her, she shifted her hips and guided him to her centre.

As she positioned him at her entrance, both of her hands moved to his shoulders and gripped tightly and with their gazes locked, he entered her with a single, sharp thrust. A gasp sounded from her and he groaned, burying his head against her neck as she gripped him tightly, surrounding him with warmth and already feeling her walls pulsing around him. He knew he wouldn't last much longer, especially if she kept deliberately clenching herself around him like she was doing just to get his attention.

Shifting slightly to better support her, her took her mouth in a consuming kiss and muffled the sounds of her moans and whimpers as he thrust his hips, pulling back and filling her again and again.

He knew when she was on the edge and ready to go flying over it; her grip on his shoulders tightened, her nails dug into his skin and she moved her hips against his. She pulled back from him and buried her face in his neck, him noting that she'd flushed pink and she attacked his neck and jaw with little licks and nips. Her walls clamping around him was the final give away and knowing this and knowing he couldn't hold himself back for much longer, he changed the angle of his hips and soon found her little sweet spot. She clamped around him tightly and he groaned when her teeth sunk into his shoulder, her cries being muffled. The feel of her clenching around him was too much to bear and he stopped holding back.

His movements grew erratic and even when she slumped against him, she still moved her hips with his to bring him to completion. His grip on her hips tightened and he pressed his forehead against her shoulder, breathing heavily as he slowed to a stop. They fell into silence, the only sound being that of their breathing and the shower still running.

"We're taking a few days off and we're not leaving this room," he found himself muttering and Hermione's laughter filled the shower.

~000~000~000~

Dean laid in bed, one hand tucked behind his head and the other buried in Hermione's hair, fiddling with her wild curls. It had long since dried and it looked wilder than usual given he'd pounced on her as soon as he felt he was able to and he'd been unable to keep his hands out of it since.

He'd dragged them out of the shower and Hermione had dried them both off with a little magic, before she re-heated their food and they ate their dinner, having worked up quite the appetite. They'd watched a bit of TV but he'd soon distracted her, pulling her to him and stripping her of the towel she'd wrapped herself in and he'd taken a good portion of time teasing her, so much so he was expecting a bruise to appear from when she'd punched him in the arm in frustration.

Now he lay with the sheets covering his waist and Hermione laid beside him, her hands on his stomach and cushioning her chin as she stared up at him. He didn't know where Crookshanks had gone but he got the feeling the clever cat had made himself scarce to give them some privacy, and he wasn't worried as he knew the cat could take care of himself.

"Why'd you change your mind?" He asked.

"About?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow at him and he looked down at her, getting caught in her gaze.

"Me," he clarified.

She shrugged her shoulders. "It'd been a while and I was feeling a little stressed. My magic can start acting up when that happens which is why I set things on fire by accident. I knew that I had to do something about it before I actually hurt someone and giving myself a helping hand wasn't enough."

He'd be lying if he said thoughts of Hermione pleasuring herself didn't cross his mind.

"And I trust you with my life, so I knew I could trust you with my body," she shrugged her shoulders. "I knew what to expect from you."

"Maybe in the past, but not this time; you're different."

She frowned in confusion and tilted her head to the side slightly. "I don't understand."

"Do you really think I'd go to so much effort because I wanted a one night stand with you? I'll admit I was attracted to you the moment I laid eyes on you, but things changed. Not only did I learn of your views on them, but the longer we were together, the more I realised I couldn't do that to you."

"Wait, are you saying that you want to..."

"Have a relationship with you? Yeah, I am."

"What? Like friends with benefits?" She questioned.

"No, a proper relationship."

"With labels? Like boyfriend and girlfriend?"

"Exactly,"

"Exclusively?"

"Exclusively," he confirmed.

"I wasn't expecting that," she confessed and he snorted at her.

"I care about you, Hermione. I don't want you to get hurt and my life has been a lot easier, a lot brighter since meeting you. You said you needed more from a partner than just sex, and I hate the thought of you being with another man. I want to be what you need me to be. I want people to know that we're together."

She blinked slowly and he'd worried that he'd said too much, but then her eyes lit up and a smile pulled at her face.

"You do?"

"I do," he nodded.

Laughter bubbled out of him when Hermione moved until she was straddling him and she was attacking his face with kisses, before she settled back down beside him.

"You're going to have to be patient with me."

"Why?" She asked.

"You said yourself, I'm a non-committer," he said, using her words. "I've never actually had a girlfriend or a relationship, it's going to take time for me to adjust and learn how to be in a relationship."

"Well, I've had a few and the majority of them ended badly," she shrugged her shoulders. "But there isn't much difference with how we were before. All we need to do is communicate with each other, be honest and look after each other. Everything we've already been doing, only now we're sleeping together."

"That's it?"

"That's it. I don't have any expectations of you, Dean. I just want you to be your usual, pain in the arse self. I don't want you to change or forget who you are because I'll never forgive myself if you do. And if you ever feel like you need some space, or things aren't working between us or you think there's a problem that needs addressing, you have to talk to me about it. I don't want you feeling as though you have to hide it from me because you think it might upset me. I won't be happy if you're not happy."

"It goes both ways," he replied.

She snorted at him. "Oh believe me, if I'm happy with you you'll know about it. And you probably shouldn't wind me up now."

"Why's that?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I now control your sex life."

Well, she had a point, he thought amused.

"So, what's this?" She asked, lifting her hand and tapping a finger against his chest, just below where his amulet sat.

He brought his hand down and picked it up, raising it to his eye level before dropping it again.

"Sammy gave me it for Christmas when we were kids, I haven't taken it off since," he shrugged. "What are you smiling at?" He asked, noticing the smile she wore on her face.

"You're a big softy, aren't you?"

"No," he denied instantly.

She laughed at him. "Liar liar pants on fire," she sang.

"Joke's on you, I'm not wearing pants," he replied.

She burst out laughing, her head falling forward to press against his chest and with her laughter being so infectious and joyous, he found himself laughing, too.

"Nicely played, Winchester," she spoke after her laughter calmed to chuckles. "But you're a big softy and I know it."

"Don't be telling anyone."

"Because it would be such a travesty for the world to know how sweet you actually are," she said.

"I'm not sweet," he denied.

She snorted. "Like honey,"

He scowled and she giggled, the sound softening his expression. He reached up and brushed her hair back from her face before his own hand moved to hold the pendent that hung around her neck, a simple silver chain that sat a strange silver carving, he wasn't sure what it was to be honest.

"And yours?" He questioned.

"Harry gave me it for my eighteenth birthday. It was all the more special because at the time we'd been on the run during the war and everything was going to hell, people were being murdered and captured everyday and we were losing hope, but on my birthday we forgot about everything and although we were hidden away in a tent in the middle of nowhere, it felt like we were back at Hogwarts. I haven't taken it off since."

"What is it?" He asked, squinting his eyes to better see.

"An otter,"

"Why an otter?"

"It's my spirit animal, everyone has one but only a few are able to conjure it up before them. It's one of the most difficult and one of the most purest forms of magic in existence and as such most don't attempt it, those that do aren't successful and only an small percentage are actually capable of doing so."

"And you're one of them," he said knowingly.

"Yes, I am, as is Harry and Ron. It's not just a spirit animal to us, to witches and wizards. It's a part of our soul; it's our magic coming to life. It's protection and strength and companionship. It's hope and light. They're used to fight off and defend against dark, soul devouring creatures known as Dementors and they used to guard our prisons in Britain, before they were dismissed after Voldemort recruited them during the war. We use them to send important and coded messages to others as they can't be intercepted or destroyed, and we use them for companionship."

"Can I see?" He asked.

She smiled at him and nodded, before reaching for her wand on the bedside table.

"Expecto Patronum," she muttered.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting but it certainly wasn't a little otter to burst from the tip of her wand in a cloud of blue-silver smoke, nor was he expecting it to dart about the room as if it were swimming in water. It came down to Hermione, hovering in front of her face and he blinked when she reached out and petted its head, the little otter squirming beneath her hand before rolling on to its back and offering its stomach, much like Crookshanks often did.

"Wow," was all he could manage and Hermione laughed at him.

"You can touch her, she won't hurt you," she told him.

Slowly he raised his hand and the otter soon stood to attention, sniffing at his hand as if it were real, before rolling onto its back and offering its stomach. Snorting, Dean reached for it and as soon as he touched it he was surprised to see that it felt real, like an actual real life otter. But there was something about it, something that made him feel warm and calm and cared for.

"So this is your magic?"

"And soul in corporeal form, essentially yes," she answered.

"It's awesome," he said and she smiled widely. "Why is it so difficult to do?"

"This is one of the purest forms of magic to exist and dark magical practitioners are unable to even attempt this form of magic. If they do they'll be devoured by maggots. It can only be cast by someone that is magically powerful enough to do so, and by someone that can conjure up true feelings of happiness and joy. That's what powers it. It took me a few months to cast my first corporeal patronus, before that I just kept getting wisps of smoke."

"And do you understand each other?"

"Well she is technically part of me, so yes, we understand each other."

"How do you send messages? What's the limitation?"

"There isn't one, Harry and I use these to check up on each other all the time despite living in different continents. As for how I do it..."

She sat up, pulling the blanket with her to cover her chest and the little otter squirmed out from beneath his hand and moved over to Hermione. She leaned forward and whispered something and the little otter disappeared, before reappearing in front of him and it opened its mouth.

"Are you hungry? I'm hungry,"

He let out a sound of disbelief and a little laugh due to both the words that were spoken, and the fact it was Hermione's voice that had said them.

"That's a bit weird," he shook his head, and the little otter disappeared for good. "No, I'm not hungry."

"I am," she frowned, before she summoned the long since melted ice-cream over to her and with a muttered spell, the ice-cream had frozen over once more and she happily ate it. "So, since we're mentioning family, your brother, am I ever going to meet him?"

Dean sighed and shifted until both arms were behind his head and he turned to watch her as she ate her ice-cream.

"I don't know," he replied.

"Are you ashamed of me?"

"What, no, of course not. Why would I be ashamed of you?"

She shrugged. "I'm a witch,"

"A witch is what you are, not who you are. You're a good person; you're beautiful inside and out." He blinked in surprise when her cheeks tinted pink and her eyes darted down to her ice-cream shyly. "Sammy's smart, he's very much like you and he's very logical. I'm not sure how he would react to finding out about your magic, but I'm sure it would be a lot better than I did and Bobby, too. My dad was never able to bully the hatred of the supernatural into him the way he did me. He'd probably spend hours quizzing you about your magic and people, wanting to know more."

"So then why aren't you sure if we'll meet?"

"I haven't seen him in over three years and I haven't spoken to him in half that. He wanted no part of the hunting lifestyle and my dad couldn't and wouldn't understand that. He told Sammy that if he walked away, he wasn't welcome back. And he did, he walked away without saying goodbye and that's the last time I saw him."

"Bobby's right, you're dad is an arsehole."

"You haven't even met him."

"Doesn't matter, what you've just told me and after everything I've learned from Bobby, I don't like him."

"I don't particularly like him either, to be honest with you," he said.

"Well, you don't have to like someone to love them. Take Ronald for instance, he's always been awful to me and after we broke up he was even worse. I don't like the way he behaves towards me, but that doesn't stop me from loving him like he's my family."

"You can't pick your family," Dean nodded in understanding.

"That's not true. You can't choose who you're related to, but you can choose who you surround yourself with and you can consider them to be your family if you should wish it. The Weasleys, Harry, Bobby; they're my family despite us not being related. And as for your brother, maybe you should reach out to him. I'm sure he'd love to hear from you."

"I don't know, Hermione. If he wanted to talk to me, he would've called, but he hasn't."

"Maybe he thinks the same about you," she offered. "Harry is my little brother in everything but blood, and I know that no matter what argument we may have had, he still loves me and I still love him. Just give him a call, Dean, you never know what might happen," she said.

She put the half eaten ice-cream carton and spoon on the bedside table and picked up her wand, pressing it against her stomach and muttering beneath her breath.

"What was that?" He asked, after seeing the slight shimmer the wand gave off.

"Contraception Charm," she answered. "One hundred percent effective and it lasts about twelve hours. Unless you want to have a baby, that is."

Dean didn't need to look in a mirror to know his face paled at the thought and Hermione burst out laughing.

~000~000~000~

Dean woke the next morning to a sight he'd happily wake up to every day. The sun was peaking in through a gap in the curtains, Crookshanks had made a reappearance and was curled up on the end of the bed, and Hermione was stood by the table wearing his t-shirt from the previous day and flipping pancakes over an open flame.

He sat up and leaned back against the headboard, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankles and putting his hands behind his head, a smile tugging at his mouth as he watched Hermione singing to herself and shaking her arse as she piled the pancakes onto a plate, covered them in chocolate sauce and added a few slices of bananas and strawberries.

"You're in a good mood,"

She visibly startled and almost dropped the pancakes to the ground and her hand came up to her chest as she breathed heavily. Shaking her head, she turned to look at him, a smile pulling at her face.

"Good morning and I'll have you know I'm always in a good mood."

He knew it to be true, well, unless someone pissed her off, then she was terrifying.

"I made your favourite," she said happily, reaching over to extinguish the open flame before something had chance to catch fire.

He beckoned her over to him and a smirk pulled at her mouth as she crossed the room and over to the bed, letting Crookshanks out the door for his morning bathroom break beforehand. Dean reached out and snagged her around the waist, pulling her until she was straddling him and his hands settled on her hips. Without needing to be told, he opened his mouth when Hermione cut off a bit of pancake with the side of her fork and then she fed it to him.

"So, how it is?" She asked.

"Perfect," he answered and she beamed at him, all too happy to feed him more when he opened his mouth again.

"You know, I have the ingredients for a pie."

"Let's get married," he said.

She snorted at him. "Vegas?"

"Obviously," he replied.

"Elvis?"

"Who else?"

She chuckled and fed him until it was all gone and the moment she put the plate off to the side, Dean flipped her onto her back and pinned her beneath him. She raised an eyebrow and looked amused when he ducked his head, stealing a kiss.

"I did say we're not leaving this room. We haven't had a break since meeting and I haven't been contacted about a case or heard of any, so we have some free time and I know exactly how to use it."

"Is that so?"

"Hmm," he hummed, ducking his head and burying his face against her neck, nipping, kissing and licking at her skin. She sighed and her hands came up to twine through his hair, keeping him to her.

A cell phone ringing drew her attention.

"Leave it," he muttered.

"I can't, there's only a handful of people that have my number. If I don't answer they'll worry." A hand moved from his hair and she reached for it on the bedside table. "It's Bobby," she informed him.

He thought about stopping but soon decided against it, thinking it would be much more fun for her to have to stay calm while he did his best to distract her.

"Hi, Bubba," Hermione said brightly.

He would never get used to hearing Bobby being called that.

"I'm fine, I've just been very busy lately... I know I promised I'd visit... Yes, I know... I'm fine, honestly. In fact, I've never been better," she said.

He heard her breath hitch when he found her weak spot behind her ear and he grinned, turning his attention to it and receiving a hair tugging from Hermione.

"I've still been sending you lasagnes and casseroles... Bobby, I can't... Don't guilt trip me..."

Dean moved lower, pulling his t-shirt up until her stomach was revealed and he glowered at the scar that met his sight. He could get angry but there was nothing he could do about it, she'd told him the one that had done it was dead. Putting that behind him, his lips and tongue blazed a trail down her abdomen until he reached the apex of her thighs.

Hermione sent him a glare of warning and tugged at his hair, so hard he thought she might've actually pulled out a clump of it, but that didn't stop him. He used his hands to spread her legs wider and pin them to the bed, before smirking at her and ducking down, his mouth descending on her centre.

Her hand flew to her mouth to cover the moan that slipped from her lips and she pulled the cell phone away from her in an attempt to prevent Bobby from hearing what was happening. She glared at him once more before taking a deep breath and bringing the cell phone back to her ear.

"I have to go, I'll visit next week, I promise. Bye," she said, hanging up instantly and dropping the cell phone onto the bed. "I'm going to kill you," she threatened, but he couldn't take it seriously as she'd said it through a gasp and her hands twisted into the sheets beneath her.

He hummed in response, knowing the vibrations would only work her up further and in no time at all, he was guiding her through her orgasm. She melted into the mattress and he crawled back up her, bracing himself on his elbows as he looked down at her smugly.

"I'm going to kill you," she said, but he still couldn't take her seriously, not with her flushed face and her glassy eyes.

"No, you're not," he replied.

When his cell phone rang, he climbed off her and reached for it.

"Bobby," he said, though he thought it a coincidence that both he and Hermione were receiving calls from him within half an hour of each other, especially when Bobby didn't know that he and Hermione were hunting together. He didn't even know that she was hunting full stop. A smirk pulled at Hermione's mouth and he knew she planned on payback, so he braced himself.

"What's up, Bobby?" He said, eyeing Hermione heatedly when she crawled over to him and her mouth latched onto his neck, her teeth nipping and nibbling at his neck and jaw and her tongue lapping and licking at his skin. He took a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists.

"Where are you?" Bobby asked.

"Dickinson, North Carolina, why?"

"So you can get here today," he muttered to himself. "I need to talk to you."

"About?" He questioned, his body tensing when Hermione's mouth moved lower, peppering his chest with licks and kisses.

"In person, not over the phone," Bobby said.

"Why can't you tell me now?" He asked, only just managing to stifle a groan when Hermione's mouth closed around his nipple and she looked up at him under her eyelashes. She was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.

"Just get here as soon as you can," Bobby said gruffly.

"Alright, see you later," he said, ending the call and dropping the device onto the bed.

Hermione pulled back from him and smirked. "Not nice, is it?" He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, it seems our little weekend of being holed up here has been interrupted."

"What a fucking surprise," Dean muttered, glaring down at his cell phone and she laughed at him. "You do realise he's going to find out about us, right?"

"I know," she shrugged. "But he won't hurt me, he loves me too much."

She stood from the bed and made for the bathroom and he reached out, snagged her wrist and pulled her back to him, a laugh leaving her.

"I believe you were in the middle of something," he muttered.

"Was I?" She said innocently.

"Yes,"

"You must be mistaken,"

"I don't think I am," he said, reaching up to push her hair back from her face. "With traffic and pit stops it's going to take a little under ten hours to get to Bobby's, I can be very annoying."

"As can I," she replied with a smirk, but she did latch her mouth back onto his neck, slowly moving lower down his chest and to his stomach.

Dean let out a sigh and fell onto his back, a groan falling from his mouth when Hermione took him in her hand and her mouth surrounded him. He cursed Bobby to hell and back for disrupting his weekend plans with his official girlfriend of twelve hours.

~000~000~000~

The drive to Bobby's didn't feel as long as it actually was, but that was always the case when he had Hermione with him, her keeping him entertained with her singing along to the radio, with her dancing about in her seat and her amusing stories of her past.

It also helped that Hermione did have a driving license and so they would swap every couple of hours to give the other a break, though he did almost shit himself when he'd woken up from a nap to find Hermione being on the wrong side of the road, having forgotten that in America they drove on the right, not the left. He hadn't dared to fall back asleep after that.

He was grateful when they pulled up onto Bobby's salvage yard as he was in need of stretching his legs and he was dying for a beer. He stepped out of the car and moved to greet Bobby as he stepped out of the house.

"What's up, Bobby?" He greeted, being pulled into a quick barely-a-hug-hug and pulling back.

Bobby opened his mouth to respond when his eyes widened and they locked on a spot over his shoulder. Dean didn't need to look to know he'd spotted Hermione climbing out of the car. Bobby's eyes darted between him and Hermione, before landing on him and a look of anger settled on his face. Dean blinked in surprise, hell, Hermione hadn't been kidding. He really was protective of her.

"What the hell is going on?" He asked gruffly.

Dean scratched at his head nervously and took a step back from Bobby so he had more room to duck should Bobby decide to punch him.

"Well, you see, Hermione's kind of my hunting partner," he said sheepishly.

"What!" Bobby hissed. "Since when?"

"Since we met," Dean said, giving a weak smile. "About three and a half months now."

"I'm going to..." Bobby never had chance to finish his threat as Hermione distracted him and Dean sighed in relief.

"Bubba!" Hermione cried happily, darting across the yard and straight over to Bobby, looking very much like a young child running to their father after not seeing them for a while.

Dean blinked in surprise and disbelief when Bobby's expression softened and Hermione ploughed straight into him, almost knocking them both to the ground. Dean felt like he needed to sit down when Bobby let out a chuckle and wrapped his arms around Hermione in a very affectionate hug. Bobby didn't do affection! Not in that way at least.

"I missed you," Hermione spoke.

Dean's head was spinning when he heard the sniffle that came from her and the way Bobby's voice softened as he replied.

"Not as much as I missed you, Missy."

"I think I need to sit down," Dean muttered.

Hermione pulled back from Bobby and stepped closer to him, lifting her hand and pressing the back of it to his forehead as a mother would do for their child.

"You don't feel warm," she mused.

"You have a lot of explaining to do, Missy," Bobby said, looking at her disapprovingly with his arms crossed and she gave him a sheepish smile.

"Well, after I saved Dean's arse and patched him up, I helped him to track down the last two crocottas, and then Dean kind of asked me to hunt with and I kind of agreed to."

Bobby sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's dangerous, Missy."

"Danger should be my middle name," she shrugged.

"I know," he grumbled and his eyes darted between them and Dean wasn't blind to the suspicious looks he sent them, obviously seeing how they were comfortable in each other's presence and that Hermione was all but tucked into his side.

"You're sleeping together, aren't you?"

Hermione blushed bright red but didn't deny it and Dean reached out and took her hand in his, the gesture not going unnoticed by Bobby which had been his intention.

"It's more than that, she's my girlfriend."

"Girlfriend," Bobby repeated slowly and looking at him as if he had two heads.

"Girlfriend," he confirmed.

"And he's my boyfriend," Hermione spoke. Bobby's eyes darted between them.

"We're exclusive," Dean shrugged, trying not to make a big deal out of it, despite him knowing Bobby was more than surprised with his revelation.

"Since when?"

"Err... well," Dean started, but Hermione cut it him off.

"Not long, I made him work for it."

"Good girl," Bobby smirked, looking at her proudly and she grinned at him.

"After two months of him running around like a headless chicken, I started dropping hints and even then he still hadn't realised I was trying to give him a little nudge." Bobby snorted, shaking his head. "So, now that I'm here, how about you let me work my magic on your spare bedroom, figuratively and literally?"

"There's nothing wrong with it," he replied stubbornly, and Dean knew otherwise. You could barely open the door to get in, let alone get to the bed.

"You're a hoarder, you don't need half of the stuff in there and it's about time we got rid of it."

"I don't want to," he replied, crossing his arms childishly and Dean blinked at seeing this side of the grumpy hunter.

"You have to, I can charm your storage room bigger so you have more space, and you're not going to stop me," she said, pulling her wand from her sleeve and storming over to the house, leaving them behind.

"You can't win an argument with her," Dean said.

"I know," Bobby muttered, before his eyes darted to the fat, ginger fur-ball that jumped from the car and slowly made his way towards them. "Hey, Fatty,"

Once more, Dean blinked. He knew that Crookshanks liked him, but that didn't stop him from getting hissed at when he insulted the cat. Bobby only got a meow of indignation before the fat cat rubbed himself up against Bobby's leg.

"He likes you?" Dean said, sounding surprised even to his own ears.

"Yeah, you?"

"I wake up every morning to him having somehow snuck into my room and sleeping on my legs."

Bobby eyed Dean curiously, before nodding to himself. "He's a good judge of character."

"I know, he's alerted us to a few shape-shifters, too, one of them we didn't even know was in town."

Bobby looked down at Crookshanks proudly.

"Don't hurt her," Bobby said suddenly. "And you better look after her, she's special."

"I know she is; she gave me a chance after all and I know I'm not good enough for her. I don't plan on hurting her and I always do my best to keep her safe."

"Has she been hurt?"

"Not really, just a few bumps and scrapes here and there," he said, deliberately avoiding telling him about the time she'd been buried under the rubble from an explosion and breaking her leg. He really wasn't in the mood to get punched in the face.

"And you?"

"Same," he shrugged. "I've got to admit, her magic's a life saver. So, what did you want to see me about?"

"Have you spoken with your dad lately?"

Dean frowned. "Not, not for a few weeks, why?"

"I saw him a few weeks ago and he was acting strange. I've been receiving calls from other hunters saying the same thing. I don't know what he's up to, but whatever it is can't be good."

"He hasn't said anything to me," Dean responded. "I'll call him later and see what I can find out."

"Good," Bobby nodded and he turned to the house with Dean following at his side.

"What have you been telling Hermione about my dad?" Dean asked.

"What's she said?"

"That you think he's an asshole," Dean answered.

Bobby snorted. "Then she's being polite. I've used far worse words to describe him over the years and most of them in her presence; she gave you the censored version." Dean felt himself frowning. "He might be my friend, but he's an asshole. You and Sam should've been kept as far away from this as possible, you never should've been brought into this lifestyle. Your father and I have had far too many disagreements about the way he was raising you and most of them ended with a few blows to the face and weapons being drawn. He's my friend and he's you dad, but he's an asshole, especially after they way he treated Sam."

It was fair to say Dean was surprised by Bobby's words, never having known he felt that way towards his father.

"And don't think you're staying with Missy."

"Seriously?" Dean spluttered. "We're fully grow adults."

"You're not laying a finger on her when you're under my roof," Bobby said, daring him to argue with him.

Dean gathered his wits. Hell, was this what it was like dealing with an over protective father? He never thought he'd see such behaviour from Bobby, or that he'd ever have to face such a thing.

"And if she wants me to?"

"You tell her no."

"And what if she wants me with her?"

"I'll shoot you if you agree."

Dean cleared his throat. "Sleeping on the couch it is," he said.

"Hey, Bubba!" Hermione's voice called from the floor above, apparently having heard them entering the house. "Why on earth do you have an entire box of used batteries! And what's the deal with the scary arse paintings!"

"I better get up there before she throws all my stuff out," he grumbled, heading for the stairs.

"Sacrilege! How dare you keep books in such a filthy environment! And they've got dog eared pages, I should hex you just for that!"

Laughter bubbled from Dean and it only grew louder when he heard the argument that started between the little witch and the grumpy hunter. Shaking his head, Dean made his way to the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge and upon noticing Crookshanks sat on the kitchen table, he grabbed the milk and poured some into a bowl.

Taking a seat at the table, both he and Crookshanks quietly drank their respective beverages, listening to the threats that were being thrown back and forth directly above him.