THE FAMILY BUSINESS: FIFTEEN
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
I'm not going to lie, I struggled writing this chapter and I'm still not entirely happy with it, but for now, it'll have to do. Happy holidays, everyone, and I hope you all have a wonderful, relaxing time.
I've drawn the short straw and I'm working Christmas Eve, a double shift Christmas Day, Boxing Day, New Year's Eve and Day, plus the weekends. I just keep reminding myself, 'think of the money!' Pray for me. It's currently two in the morning for me and I have to be up early for work, but I couldn't sleep until I finished this for you. I hope you enjoy this chapter whilst I'm busy slaving away at work
Page count: 22
"Dean, calm down," Sam muttered, sat on the edge of the mattress, watching as Dean paced back and forth, muttering to himself, his hands alternating between tugging at his hair and readjusting his grip on his handgun, having since abandoned his machete on the ground.
The moment they'd landed in the motel room, something Dean hadn't expected knowing Hermione had spelled the necklace to take him to her house in Manning, he'd lost it. Worry and fear swarming him like it never had before. He knew the consequences of Hermione revealing herself to his father would be bad. Very bad.
Fuck! How long had it been? One minute, two, three, five? He didn't know and the longer he paced, the longer he waited, the more worried he grew. Something was wrong. He knew it.
A sharp 'crack' sounded and Dean's pacing halted to a stop and Sam dashed from the bed, catching Hermione in his arms before she fell to the ground.
His father stood, bracing his hands against his knees as he doubled over, coughing and dry heaving. Dean's eyes darted between them, seeing the gun gripped in his hand and Hermione's pained, pale expression, her wand fallen from her grasp and lay on the ground and her hands were pressed tightly against her stomach, blood coating her fingers and soaking through her white t-shirt.
He didn't both asking what had happened. Vampires didn't carry weapons, they had no need for them and they wouldn't use them. And he knew a gunshot wound when he saw one. Why would she risk teleporting when she was injured? Unless, it happened mid-teleportation? She was taken by surprise?
"Sammy, it hurts," she whispered, a tear leaking from the corner of her frightened eyes as she stared up at him.
"You're..." He composed himself, taking a breath. "You're going to be fine, I promise."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," she whispered, her eyes drooping tiredly.
"Hermione? Hermione? Stay with me. You can't fall asleep. I'll make you a deal, if you can keep your eyes open, I'll let you give me a haircut. Deal?"
"I really must be dying," she muttered, her head tilting to press against his shoulder.
"No, you're going to be fine," he argued, shifting her in his arms before he rose to his full height and quickly crossed over to the bed, settling her on the centre of the mattress and propping her head up with the pillows.
Dean barely registered the interaction, the movement or Sam rushing to the bathroom to collect towels; rather, his gaze remained on his father who was slowly regaining his bearings after facing Hermione's teleportation.
The moment he rose to full height, his eyes searching his surroundings and soon landing on Hermione, bleeding out on the bed, an expression of anger and disgust crossing his face and his grip on his gun tightened before his arm twitched, as if to take aim and fire another shot, something inside Dean snapped.
He saw nothing as his vision blurred, as fury burst within him, the need to defend and protect Hermione, and before he'd realised it, he'd darted across the room, grabbed his father by the collar of his jacket and slammed him against the wall so hard, he'd dropped his handgun in surprise and he left a crater beneath him.
His father blinked slowly, both from the disorientation and surprise, before his gaze landed on Dean's furious expression, something he'd never before seen on him. He looked murderous.
"You fucking shot my girlfriend!" He spoke, his voice low and gravelly, something quite frightening to hear. "What the fuck's wrong with you? If she dies, nothing will stop me from putting you in the ground."
He blinked once more, processing his words. "Dean, she's a witch," he replied calmly.
"You don't think I know that!" He exploded. "Do you think I'm stupid? That Sam's stupid? We've always known. Why do you think we were so careful to keep you apart, why we were so secretive?"
"Dean, she must have you under a spell..."
He never got to finish his words as Dean pulled him away from the wall and slammed him back against it.
"Don't you dare," he warned. "There's not a mean bone in her body, she would never do something like that. There's no such thing as a Love Spell. I'm with her 'cause I want to be of my own free will. I knew she was a witch before I asked her to hunt with me, before we started dating. She saved my life with magic. For once, accept that I know more than you. That I know what's best. She's special. She was born with her magic, as were her siblings and her nieces and nephews, which is why the kids asked if you could do magic. There's an entire community of witches and wizards, all of them born with the magic. They hide from us for their safety and protection, they live their lives away from us and who can blame them? It's people like you, us, they hide from, that are to blame for the Witch Trials which murdered their people and sent them into hiding."
"That's impossible."
"Fuck off!" Dean raged. "You think I'm such a despicable human being that I could never care for someone without being under the influence of magic. That says more about you than it does me. I'm lucky to have that little witch and if she dies, I swear, I'll reunite you with mom!"
"Dean, what're doing?" Sam's voice rose.
Dean barely spared him a glance, refusing to take his gaze from his father. He knew him and he knew he was waiting for the opportunity to grab his gun and fire another shot. If that meant he hurt Dean in the process, he didn't care. He had to be prepared to duck a blow to the face or abdomen.
"I'm not letting him go, I don't trust him."
"Neither do I," Sam replied. "But I could really do with another pair of hands."
"I can't leave him alone, Hermione's too weak to use a spell to keep him in place. The moment I let him go, I know he'll try to kill her."
A 'thud' sounded from the other side of the room and despite Dean wanting to turn away from his father to see what it was, he wasn't stupid enough to lose focus and allow his father an opening.
"Balls!"
Dean knew that voice anywhere.
"Dean, let go of him," Bobby's gruff voice ordered.
"No," he replied, his grip tightening on his father's collar.
"Let go, now."
"Bobby? Thank God, someone who has a bit of sense," his father said, looking relieved.
If only he knew, Dean thought.
He twisted to look over his shoulder, seeing Bobby stood across the room, his rifle aimed and pointed in their direction and a look of anger on his face. Dean understood. Hermione was like a daughter to him, and his best friend had harmed her. Dean knew Bobby wouldn't take that lightly, especially since he wouldn't even let him share a bedroom with her when they visited. This was an attempted murder. Bobby slowly approached and knowing he wouldn't allow his father anywhere near Hermione, Dean reluctantly released his grip on his father's collar before stepping back.
He backed up until he stood beside the bed and Sam shoved a pile of towels in his arms, giving him a quick instruction to keep pressure on Hermione's stomach to stop the bleeding. He rounded to the other side of the bed, absentmindedly doing as Sam ordered whilst his gaze remained on his father and Bobby, and Sam disappeared into the bathroom again.
Dean honestly wasn't surprised when Bobby lowered the rifle, stepped closer and then balled his hand into a fist, it soon colliding with his father's face with such a force, he stumbled back into the wall behind him.
"What the hell, Bobby!" His father called, spitting out blood from his mouth on the carpet.
"I warned you not to harm a hair on her head," Bobby said.
"What? She's got to you, too?"
Bobby raised his rifle, aimed it at him and narrowed his eyes. "I've known for years about her magic. She saved my life with it. When I said she's an ally, I meant it. If she doesn't pull through, I'll personally find a demon to drag your soul to hell," Bobby warned. "Now, get out."
"What?"
"Get out, I don't trust you with her safety and the boys aren't gunna be able to help her if they're too worried about you being here. We need to have a little chat, there's something I need to show you."
"How did you even get here?" His father asked.
"Get out and I'll tell you."
The two Hunters observed each other carefully before his father silently and slowly crossed over to the door, getting kicked in the back of the leg by Bobby when he paused to pick up his handgun, and Bobby followed him outside. If they were in a public place and he would be arrested for carrying and threatening someone with a weapon if seen, Bobby didn't seem to care.
The moment the door closed, Dean's tense form relaxed and worry coursed through him as he glanced down at Hermione, seeing her watching him with tired, frightened eyes.
"What happened?" He asked her softly, pressing down harder on her stomach and a choked groan of pain caught in her throat.
"I killed as many of them as I could. I set the warehouse on fire and intended to apparate here, but when I reached your dad, he shot me mid-apparition. I could've killed him."
"It's no less than what he deserves," he said, shooting an angry glance at the door.
"He's your dad, Dean," she replied.
"He's an asshole, and once you're all better, we'll go to London and spend some time with the family, yeah? Give you chance to heal up. When we've found and killed the demon, we won't have to deal with him again, I promise."
"Are you saying what I think you are?" She asked weakly.
"I choose you over him, every time," he confirmed, one blood-coated hand coming away from her stomach and cupping her cheek.
She leaned into it. "Dean, I'm scared," she confessed in a whisper.
Hermione was the bravest person he knew. She didn't get scared, she got angry or snarky.
"Baby, you're going to be fine, I promise."
"I don't think I am," she shook her head, a tear leaking from her eye and falling down her cheek. "I'm sorry this happened. I'm sorry, but I had to save you and Sam. I had to protect you. There was too many of them, there was nothing else I could do. It had to happen."
"Don't talk, you need to reserve your strength...Sammy, get your ass in here now!" Dean bellowed, looking over his shoulder towards the bathroom and Sam soon bustled out, more towels held in his grasp and Hermione's magic purse sat on top of them.
"Empty it," Sam instructed, handing it to him. "Look for her first aid kit. She's been teaching me about magical healing, I can't use magic but if I can find the right potions, I might be able to help."
"I hope you know what you're doing, Sammy," Dean commented.
"It's this or we take her to a hospital, something we both know we can't do. Not only due to the nature of the wound, but her magic will fry any piece of equipment within twenty feet of her."
Dean's brow furrowed, knowing he was right, so he turned his attention elsewhere. Unsure of what he was looking for, Dean emptied the contents of Hermione's bag, being glad of the fact he'd convinced her to organise it a little better. Before everything would fall out individually, now, they fell out in boxes or suitcases, making it easier to find what they were looking for. His eyes searched the pile on the floor, finding both a magical and muggle first aid kit which he threw to Sam, and he went in search of Hermione's potion stores, finding that to be an oddly crafted chest.
"I need water, something to wash away the blood."
Dean retrieved a bowl from the box labelled with 'kitchen' and filled it with water from the bathroom, quickly returning to Hermione's side. He placed the bowl on the bedside table, one hand putting pressure on the wound and the other holding hers, squeezing it at intervals, trying to keep her awake. Meanwhile, Sam muttered and mumbled to himself as he searched through Hermione's potions, already having a selection sat off to the side.
"Blood Replenisher," Hermione reminded him weakly.
"Blood loss, right," Sam nodded, quickly plucking it from the chest and adding it to the rest of the potion vials before setting the chest aside.
"You need to stop the bleeding, try Star Grass Salve, it's stronger than the others and it should help with blood clotting."
"Star Grass?" He questioned, moving to the chest he'd put aside and digging through the stores.
"Green metallic colourin'," she slurred.
"Hey, stay with me," Dean said, squeezing her hand a little harder.
"Doin' my best, Honey."
"Come on, we've been through worst than this, remember, you were almost blown up."
"What? You kept that one quiet," Sam reappeared by the bed.
"Vampires, before we met," she muttered tiredly. "Use a third, don't bother cleaning the blood, it should absorb it."
Hermione winced and gripped Dean's hand tightly as Sam removed the bloody towels and lathered the wound in the metallic green paste, his eyes widening slightly when a red smoke poured from the wound and Hermione cried out.
"Bastard! That stings like a bitch!"
"Sorry," he apologised even though it wasn't his fault. "Blood Replenisher?"
"Hmmm," she hummed, her eyes dropping and seeing this and knowing the blood loss was taking its toll, he reached for the red potion vial and uncorked it, bringing it to her mouth. She tiredly opened her mouth and swallowed down the entire vial, it was better to be safe than sorry.
"You said not to mix the Dittany and Murtlap."
"That was before I was shot, it'll help heal the wound quicker despite the drowsiness and itchiness. I'm certain it was a through and through, so there's no need to go digging about inside of me to remove the bullet."
"Thank God," Sam grimaced.
"I need sleep, and a Pain Potion."
"Open up," he instructed, selecting the dark purple vial and she gladly drank the contents, gagging at the after taste. "It's stopped bleeding by the looks of it," he said, still amazed at the advances in magical healing. It'd barely been a few minutes.
"Clean the wound with the Antiseptic Wound Cleanser, mix it three parts water. Let it dry and then cover it in Murtlap, wait a few minutes and use Dittany over the top and then use gauze and bandages to wrap the wound. They'll need to be reapplied every couple of hours until it's healed, I just hope I have enough."
Dean kept his gaze on Hermione's face as Sam did as instructed, tucking the edge of the bandage beneath the layer before it and then stepping back, scrutinising his handiwork.
"We'll make a medic out of you yet," Hermione mumbled and Sam smiled at her tiredly, releasing a breath and brushing a blood-coated hand through his hair.
"Get some sleep. I'll try to reapply the pastes and bandages without waking you in a couple of hours."
It seemed she'd been waiting for those words as barely moments later, her eyes fluttered closed, her breathing evened out and slumber took her. Dean didn't release her hand as he perched on the edge of the mattress beside her and Sam dragged a chair across the room, sinking down into it with a tired sigh and he brushed his hair back from his face, smudging blood across his cheek. Neither of them made any movement to clean the mess of bloody towels, empty potion vials, bloody clothing or the sheets beneath Hermione.
"Thank you," Dean muttered, now being able to look away from Hermione knowing she was going to be fine, he looked to his brother.
"Hmmm," he hummed. "She's like a sister to me, I wasn't going to stand back and let her suffer. I'm just glad she thought ahead and started teaching me this stuff. It was bound to happen sooner or later that she'd get injured and we'd have to patch her up, rather than it being the other way around like it usually is. I reckon she'll be fine in a day or two, possibly less given how advanced her magical healing is. So, what are you going to do about dad?"
"I don't know," Dean admitted, his gaze darting back to Hermione. "I almost lost her 'cause of him. I'm never going to forgive him for hurting her. I get it's difficult to understand, but neither of us had that kind of reaction when we learned the truth."
"He's hated the supernatural longer," Sam shrugged.
"Yeah, and he raised us to do the same, and she's magical, not supernatural. He's been with us for weeks, he should know her well enough to know she'd never harm an innocent, magic or not. And to assume she had me under a spell..." He trailed off, not sure how to feel about that.
"He'll be back soon, Bobby'll have set him straight. He loves her like a daughter and he won't stand for anyone hurting her, you, me, or his best friend. How'd he even get here, anyway? He appeared out of nowhere. How'd he know to come here?"
Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Probably something to do with Hermione, she's too clever for her own good."
"She's going to be fine."
~000~000~000~
Hours passed after the night from hell and whilst Bobby and his father had yet to return, (not that he cared) Sam had fallen asleep awkwardly in the chair by the bed, Dean hadn't moved from Hermione's side, still holding her hand and watching her sleeping face, counting each of her breaths as her chest rose and fell evenly.
He knew he should get some sleep, the events of the night being draining, emotionally, physically and mentally, but he couldn't bring himself to do so. He couldn't bring himself to let down his guard should his father burst in and try and harm Hermione again, or should she suffer from some missed untreated injury in her sleep with no one to catch it. He was effectively standing watch for both her safety and health even if that meant he was sleep-deprived. He didn't care.
The ringing alarm on Sam's phone sounded in the room and Dean glared at it, as not only had it woken Sam, but Hermione and she needed her sleep. Sam bolted upright and was quick to switch it off, but not fast enough.
"Sorry, Hermione, didn't mean to wake you," Sam said sheepishly. "Go back to sleep, I just need to change your bandages."
"I don't think I can," she shifted her body and winced, regretting the movement.
"You're still hurt?"
"It still stings," she answered, "But I can't have any more Pain Relief Potions yet, try layering a drop or two or Numbing Potion beneath the Murtlap."
"You're the boss," he smiled, standing from the chair and searching the chest before stepping up beside her with the vials, gauze and bandages in hand.
Dean didn't complain when Hermione's grip tightened on his hand as she cried out in pain, he was just thankful she appeared to be healing well. It barely took any time for Sam to finish wrapping the bandages and he retook his seat, and just when he and Hermione were dozing off, the door opened and both Bobby and his father stepped inside.
Bobby appeared to be without his rifle, Dean wondering where the hell he'd put it, and as the door closed behind them and they stepped into the dimly lit room, Dean could see they were both sporting injuries, evidence of a fist-fight having happened. Bobby had a bruise forming beneath his right eye, a split lip and a cut to his cheek, whilst his father had a bruise forming around his left side jaw, dried blood beneath his nose and a bump on his forehead. He was sure he'd have a few bruises on his back, too. Dean wasn't going to apologise.
Both he and Sam stood to their feet, Sam positioning himself to block Hermione from his father's line of sight, and whilst Bobby approached the bed, his father stayed back, silently waiting by the door.
"Hey, Missy," Bobby's gruff voice softened as he stepped around Sam and sat on the edge of the bed, taking her proffered bloodstained hand in his grasp. "How you doing?"
"I don't recommend getting shot, it hurts like a bitch," she said, smiling tiredly.
"That's my girl," he muttered fondly, his eyes darting between the bloody mess that was the sheets, towels, clothing and their hands. "He won't hurt you again, I've set him straight."
"I can see that," she frowned worriedly, eyeing his injuries. "Sammy, get the Bruise Removal Paste, please?"
Sam looked reluctant to do so, not wanting his father's eyes to be able to gaze at Hermione, but he did so, handing it to her. Silently, she lathered the paste beneath Bobby's bruising eye, ignoring his protests that 'he was absolutely fine, there was nothing wrong with him and she needed to stop her fussing before he shot her.' Of course, she didn't listen.
"With what?" She arched her eyebrow and Bobby grumbled beneath his breath.
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I'm fine, I'll be healed and back to normal in a day or two. Nothing for you to worry about."
"I always worry about you,"
"The feeling's mutual. For all I know, you've been out and bought more scary arse paintings and restocked on used batteries."
"I haven't," Bobby denied.
"Oh Merlin, you have, haven't you? What's wrong with you?"
"I'm going home, I don't have to take this abuse from you," he scowled.
Sam and Dean shared a snort and Bobby squeezed her hand, stood from the bed, gave them both a nod, levelled their father with a threatening narrowing of the eyes, and then left out the door.
Silence immediately fell in the room, the tension growing thick, the atmosphere awkward.
Dean was mildly impressed that his father felt brave enough to close some of the distance them, especially with the murderous glare both he and Sam pinned him with. His gaze slowly darted between them before he looked to Hermione.
"You going to be alright?" He asked.
Dean's jaw ticked and he felt Hermione's hand squeeze his, in comfort, encouragement, warning, he didn't know.
"Yes, luckily I've started teaching Sam about magical healing, I was able to guide him through the process, but he did pretty well on his own," she replied calmly, sending Sam a proud smile before turning her eyes back to him.
"I'm not apologising," he said, stuffing his hand in his pockets and barely batting an eyelash at the bloodstained mess that was the room.
Dean would've rounded the bed and punched his father in the face if Hermione didn't have such a tight grip on his hand.
"I wasn't expecting you to, you're an arsehole."
"And you're a witch."
"That's not an insult, merely a fact," she responded. "I'm a trueborn magical witch. I can't control that I have my magic, it's a blessing, a gift that I cherish every day, something I never take for granted. You'll find that the 'magic' from Hell isn't magic at all; it's but a cheap and lousy imitation. And don't even get me started on their pathetic use of hex bags. It's an insult to the trueborns, and it holds no power over us. Put me against a trueborn, I reckon I could take two, three at a push. Put me against soul-selling, sacrificial imitators, I'm confident I could take double that. We are humans, we bleed the same, we require the same elements to function, we have the same desires, only, we have magic rather than science and technology. You had no reason to harm me, and yet you did."
"I'd just discovered you were a witch," he argued.
"A witch that has been hunting with your sons for the better part of a year, a witch who is dating your son. A witch, who uses her magic for good and never against the innocent. A witch, who saved your life and you repaid me with a bullet to the stomach. I know you hate the supernatural, but did it not occur to you that I was channelling my magic through a wand," she reached over to the bedside table and plucked it from the surface, his father's eyes darting to it. "That I magically teleported your sons out of danger, and that I did the same for you. Have you ever seen a witch capable of teleportation, of doing the things I did in that warehouse?"
"No," he admitted.
"I thought so. You assumed the worst, you didn't give me or Dean and Sam a chance to explain the circumstances and had I died, you'd have faced a massive backlash not only from Dean and Sam, not only from my family, but from my government and community. They have resources and power your government doesn't. The people in power, the higher-ups, they know about our existence, they employ our people as politicians and officials and protectors, and they keep the peace and ensure our secret is kept. We help them, they help us. Nothing would've stopped them from seeking justice. And just so you know, I'm not apologising either."
"For lying to me?"
"I never lied to you. I am not supernatural. I said magic was the family business and I meant it. And no, for this..."
Without warning, she'd muttered beneath her breath and flicked her wand, a flock of bright yellow canaries bursting into existence, flying overhead before darting down and towards him, his calls of surprise and annoyance sounding as they pecked at him. Sam burst into laughter, falling back to perch on the bed and Dean's mouth twitched in both amusement and pride.
She took pity on him and ended the attack far too soon, Dean thought.
"What the hell!" His father glared at her, brushing the feathers from hair and clothing.
"I've been wanting to hex you since the moment we met, Dean convinced me it wasn't worth it. Well, now that I've done it, I can say it really was. As I said, we don't use pathetic hex bags."
He narrowed his eyes before silently crossing over to the table, taking a seat and folding his arms over his chest.
"You lied to me about your military background."
"No, I omitted details and allowed you to come to your own conclusion. I was a soldier and I did fight on the front lines, longer than I allowed you to believe. I also faced a great many other things."
"You were a child soldier," he stated knowingly.
"I was."
"There was a war amongst your people, from what I could gather, inbred supremacists against the rest of you."
Her mouth twitched. "Essentially, yes."
"You won,"
"We did,"
He watched her curiously. "How'd you get into being a Hunter?"
"I spent a year in the magical police force and then swapped to magical creatures. Now, that, I did lie about. We have no government department surrounding the supernatural, as we don't have them in our world, but we do know of their existence. Our magic is too strong and prevents them from entering. We have ghosts, werewolves and vampires, but they differ from the supernatural. I was technically a magical Hunter. I dealt with an array of creatures and beings, most you won't have heard of."
"Try me," he challenged.
She cocked an eyebrow. "Acromantulas, veelas, doxies, bowtruckles, grindylows, hippogriffs, thestrals, house-elves, boggarts, dementors. Know any of them, Jon?" She asked innocently. He blinked slowly. "Thought not, boys, care to help him out?"
Dean shared a look with Sam before they both nodded.
"Acromantula, giant man-eating spiders, veelas, semi-human beings known for their beauty, can grow wings, talons and shoot fireballs from their hands. Doxies, a bit like a fairy but it has two sets of limbs, beetle-like wings, two rows of venomous teeth and is a magical house pest, like a spider or a moth. Bowtruckles, hand-sized, insect-eating, tree-dwelling creatures made from bark and twigs. Grindylows, basically small water demons," Sam offered effortlessly.
Dean took up the mantle, enjoying his father's surprised expression. "Hippogriff, half-eagle, half-horse, thestrals, winged horses that can only be seen by someone who's witnessed death. House-elves, small elf-like beings who live to serve their masters, boggarts, a creature than can find, use and transform into your greatest fear to kill you. Dementors, dark creatures that feed on happiness and positivity and can remove the soul from the human body with a kiss."
Hermione beamed at him proudly. "Well done, boys," she praised, her gaze falling back to Jon.
He cleared his throat. "And things I might have heard of?"
Hermione's mouth twitched into a smirk. "You want to tell him?" She looked to Dean.
"Sure," he answered, looking back to his father. "Strap in," he warned him. "Vampires, werewolves, sirens, spirits, pixies, fairies, gnomes, leprechauns, trolls, ogres, giants, unicorns, centaurs, dragons," he listed easily, enjoying his father's wide-eyed expression. "I miss any, Baby?" He tipped his head towards her.
"A few," she nodded, "But let's not overwhelm him, shall we? Wouldn't want to break him." Dean had never seen his father so quiet or so surprised. "I believe I once said you don't know everything, nor have you experienced everything, and now, you know just how true that is. You may have been doing this longer than I have, but this is my life."
"Dragons are real?" He questioned slowly, apparently finding his voice.
"Yes, one of my brother's works in Romania on a Dragon Reserve, he breeds, raises and rehabilitates injured dragons."
"I've got a headache," he sighed, his hands coming up to his temples.
"Welcome to my world of magic."
~000~000~000~
Dean's head hurt.
He wasn't quite sure what time it was and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. They'd spent the remainder of the night/early morning, keeping watch as his father talked to Hermione about the magic of the trueborns and the world she came from.
It wasn't until the sun rose, that Sam and his father left to their own rooms and Hermione used her magic to clean them both up and clean the sheets and room, before they both settled down for sleep.
He didn't know the time, sometime after lunch he'd guess and whilst both he and Hermione had woken around the same time a little while ago, neither had made a move to leave the bed and neither of them had spoken as they gazed at one another.
"I'm fine, Dean, I promise," she said softly. "The pain's gone and the wound's healing a lot faster than I anticipated. I'm more worried about your relationship with your father."
Dean scoffed. "What relationship?"
"Dean," she sighed, "You should forgive him, no, hear me out, please," she said, seeing he was going to interrupt and he snapped his mouth shut. "Yes, he harmed me, he tried to kill me, but he's still your father. In some twisted way, he believed he was protecting you from me, that he was ridding the world of another evil being. Yes, he was wrong and he assumed the worst, but he believed what he was doing was the right thing to do. Life is too short to hold grudges and hatred. What he did was wrong and I know you want to protect me, but he's your father and I won't be mad at you should you forgive him. If I'm honest, I'd be impressed. It'd take an amazing amount of strength to do so, strength I know you have."
"He tried to kill you."
"He did, but I survived and I'm going to be fine. He's your father, the only one you have. I'd give everything to have my parents back, and whilst yours is an arsehole, he's alive and he's here. Don't take that for granted, please."
"I almost lost you," he muttered, his gaze tracing her face slowly.
"But you didn't," she said softly, lifting her hand to rest against his cheek and tipping her head forward until their foreheads touched. "And you'll never lose me, I believe we both made a promise to haunt the other's arse from the grave. Weren't you going to peep on me in the shower?"
He felt his mouth twitch. "And you when I was changing?"
"Probably when you have a wank, too," she nodded. He snorted in surprise. "What? It's still December, it's not my fault." He shook his head at her in amusement. "My point is, even if I'd have died or if I ever do..." He frowned unhappily and settled his arm over her waist, mindfully tugging her against him protectively. "You will never be alone and I will always be with you. That is a promise."
"I don't like all this talk of death."
"It's a risk in our line of work," she shrugged. "As for your father?"
"I'll think about it, but I don't think I'm as strong as you think I am."
"Nonsense, you're the strongest person I've ever met. Now, Christmas? You want to do it with my family?"
"After all the shit that's happened and the stress we've been under, yeah, I do. I think it'll be good to get away for a few days, and if I'm honest, I miss the kids."
"You and me both," she beamed at him. "Sam's coming, too, I know he won't turn down a chance to go back to London and see the others and even if he did, I'd just Body-bind him and levitate him along after us." He snorted at her. "The hotels in London are probably going to be full due to the holidays, but Kingsley owes me a favour so I'll see if he can pull a few strings and get us a couple of rooms somewhere. I'll let Harry know later we're coming but ask him not to tell the kids so we can surprise them. With the vampires now dealt with and it being Christmas Eve tomorrow, we can head out and do a bit of shopping, see if we can find anything for the kids, they love muggle stuff, Arthur, too."
"Sounds like a plan."
"And if you're good, I'll make you a pie. Now that your father knows about me, I don't have to hide the fact I use magic in everyday life, especially when cooking. It was a pain in the arse having to cook that roast the muggle way."
"Hmmm, but it was the best roast I've ever eaten," he replied, tipping his head to press a kiss to her throat and she sighed.
"Molly's cooking's way better than mine, she's partially the reason I can cook, actually. I'll have to make something up; it's tradition. Molly handles the Christmas dinner but everyone else contributes in some way. Angie brings the hot chocolate and marshmallows, Audrey brings the mince pies, Harry brings the nibbles and snacks, Ginny hates cooking," she explained at his raised eyebrow. "Fleur always brings some foreign French dish we've never heard of but she's yet to let us down, Charlie's a rubbish cook so always brings the fire whiskey, and Lavender's lazy so she usually buys something the day before to bring along. Me? I handle the dessert."
"Pie?" He asked hopefully.
She snorted at him. "Not usually, no. Something more traditional, but I promise to make you any pie you wish this year, but if we take it to the Burrow, you'll be expected to share it."
"Not happening," he scowled and she laughed at him.
"I always bake gingerbread men for the kids and they decorate them before they give them out, they eat them before they're sent to bed for the night and the alcohol starts to flow freely with the kids being asleep. I gotta tell you, having a hangover the day after isn't fun."
He snorted. "Your potions?"
"George's prank every year, he hides the damn things. We try to conceal them but he always finds them and hides them from us. If we don't find them, we suffer the muggle way."
"But he'd have to suffer, too," he pointed out.
"No, the prat always takes his and hides ours. We've tried everything; hiding them, charming them, bringing more than one, threatening him with Molly, hexing him, nothing works. We've learned to live with it."
"I can't wait to see you in the morning," he chuckled.
"It's not pretty," she sighed, "And I believe that if me being in an exceptionally fragile and hungover state doesn't scare you aware, nothing will."
"That bad?" He questioned amused.
"Yes, Charlie said he'd wrestle a dragon any day over dealing with me when I'm hungover."
"Luckily for you, I don't scare easily."
"Famous last words," she replied.
He opened his mouth to respond but it was replaced with a chuckle when Hermione's stomach gave a growl of hunger, he supposed they'd missed breakfast and lunch and she'd been injured, too. She needed to keep her strength up.
"You jump in the shower and I'll head out and grab us breakfast," he said, pulling back from her and climbing from the bed.
"Just leave it, I've a few cereal bars in my bag that'll take the edge off a little. We can both shower and head out after, grab something to eat and start shopping."
"Alright then," he agreed, never one to turn down the opportunity to shower with her, after all, that was how their relationship started.
He headed to the bathroom and set the shower to the right temperature, stripping from his clothing and stepping inside, Hermione joining him not long after, the water bouncing right off her bandages, keeping them dry.
"You never said how Bobby got here, or how I got here," he said, massaging at her shoulders and she faced away from him. "I thought the necklace was charmed to take me to your house in Manning."
"Originally, it was, yes, but then I realised if we were separated, that would be too far for me to apparate and I needed something closer. I started tinkering with the spell work when you were sleeping, so you never noticed. Now, the port-key will take you to the current place of our staying, don't ask how, it gives me a headache just thinking about it. But now that it's been used, I'll have to recast the magic. As for Bobby, he's got a port-key, too. One that's tied into the location of my wand and should a large amount of my blood be spilt, he'll receive a sixty second warning before he's automatically transported to me. And he has a second port-key to return him back to the salvage yard. It was something I gave him before we met, just as a precaution."
"You're too clever for your own good."
~000~000~000~
"Really? We are?"
Dean shared an amused glance with Hermione before turning back to face his excited brother.
"Yes, we are. I've already told Harry to let the others know to expect us, but we're surprising the kids, and I've asked Kingsley to see if he can get us into a hotel by pulling a few strings, every where's bound to be fully booked. "
"Make sure you're all packed up by tomorrow," Dean said. "Hermione's arranging for a port-key to take us to London, and with the time difference, we'll have to get up early."
"You're coming, too," she told his father, sending him a narrowed-eyed expression.
"I don't want to," he replied, sitting at the table on the other side of the room.
"I don't give a toss what you want. You're coming even if I have to drag you there by your bloody hair. This is the only chance you're ever going to get to see some of my world, you should be grateful I'm even bringing you along at all, after what you did. My family wouldn't hesitate to kill you if they ever found out, and the fact that I'm trusting you enough to be around my nieces and nephews now that you know the truth, is me offering you a chance. Not only that, we both know a shit storm's brewing and the outcome could be fatal, this may be the only chance you have to spend Christmas with your sons. When was the last time you did that?"
"When we were kids, sometimes," Sam muttered bitterly.
Dean remained silent, not sure how to feel about his father joining them for Christmas. Once he might've liked it, before he'd harmed Hermione, but now, he didn't trust him and he wasn't sure he ever would when she was nearby. The comfort he took was that he knew Hermione was smart, she had a good head on her shoulders and she wouldn't do anything if she thought it dangerous to her, him or Sam, and most importantly, her family and the kids. He knew Hermione, and he wouldn't be surprised if she confiscated all of his weapons before allowing him anywhere near her family.
"Fine," he sighed in defeat.
"It's Christmas, cheer up. If I see any threatening behaviour, suspicious thinking or unpleasant glances aimed at any of my family, all of who have magic, I won't hesitate to tell them you shot me and I'm certain you won't survive what they'd do to you. No bad language around the children, keep any gruesome details of your hunting to yourself, and be polite. Ronald, my ex-boyfriend, he's an arsehole and if he says something, either I or Harry will handle it. Some of the children have also started showing signs of magic, so there's likely to be a few magical outbursts. Stay calm and don't react, it's nothing serious and can easily be rectified no matter what it is. And now that's out of the way, Dean and I are going Christmas shopping. If you want to come with us, that's fine, otherwise, keep yourselves busy."
"Should you really be going out?" Sam frowned, his eyes darting between her stomach and face.
"I'm fine, it's healing a lot quicker than I thought it would and by tomorrow, they shouldn't be a mark in sight. Stop being such a mother hen."
~000~000~000~
Two days later...
It was Christmas day.
They'd gotten into London early the previous day so they would have the chance to rest up before heading out to spend Christmas with Hermione's family. Hermione's friend had managed to get them reservations at one of the best hotels in the city and whilst Dean had thought the previous hotels had been fancy, they didn't hold a candle to the one they were currently staying in. He'd gotten a few stares when he'd stepped into the building with his boots, jeans and jacket, from both the other guests and the staff. Hermione'd just turned to him and said, "You're too handsome for your own good, look, you've got everyone bloody staring," before striding forward to check-in. He still didn't know how she'd snuck the cats in.
The moment they'd landed in a concealed alleyway, Dean had felt the immediate temperature difference, saw his breath when he breathed out and frost on the ground. He'd regretted not taking Hermione's advice to put on a warmer coat before they left, but he wasn't going to admit that.
And heading to their rooms, three so they had one each, he and Hermione had ordered room service and spent the night relaxing, watching a few Christmas movies on TV before falling asleep.
The next morning, Hermione had made sure to wake both his father and Sam up, gave them an hour warning before she double-checked she'd had everything she needed stashed away in her magical purse. When it was time to leave, they'd met in the corridor and followed her out of the hotel, and with the cats securely locked in a magic carry case, she'd apparated them away.
That was how he found himself stood in a snow-covered field, freezing his ass off as he and Sam stared up at the strangely shaped tower-house building and his father was doubled over, fighting off the urge to throw up.
"How's that possible?" Sam asked in wonder, seeing the many windows jutting out, each decorated with tinsel and magically lit lights and the smoke pouring from the chimney.
"Magic," Hermione answered, smiling fondly. "I spent most of my childhood here. It was damaged during the war but we were able to fix it up once it was over. Everyone will already be here, they usually stay over Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. There wouldn't have been room for all four of us, which is why we're staying in a hotel, but don't expect to make it back tonight. Once the fire whiskey starts flowing, I won't be in any fit state to get us back, we'll have to sleep on the couches and floor, but it's all good fun, I promise. Sammy, best let them out, Crooks has missed the kids and Domino and Sadie need a chance to get used to their surroundings, there's going to be house a full here today."
Sam set the cat carrier on the ground and opened it, Crookshanks darting out of it and Domino and Sadie were a little slower to follow but once they did, Hermione shrunk the empty carrier down and slipped it into her magical purse, Dean seeing from the corner of his eye his father watching her carefully.
"Before we head in, weapons, all of them, all of you."
"What?" His father questioned in surprise.
"You heard me, weapons, give them to me. You can have them back when we leave, but not only will my family be uncomfortable should they see you with them, not only is it dangerous with the children being present, but I don't trust you not to pull a gun should something happen."
"Dad, just give her them," Dean grumbled, removing his handguns, the silver knife and the pocket knives and slipping them into Hermione's bag and Sam did the same.
Hermione and his father had a staring match; she won and he reluctantly gave up his weapons, complaining the entire time.
"Shut up," she rolled her eyes. "Let's go, they probably already know we're here now. Brace yourselves for a truly magical Christmas, and I promise, there's nothing like it."
She slipped her hand into Dean's and hooked her arm through Sam's before tugging them towards the house, his father following behind them. Before the door was even opened the noise of chatter and laughing and singing could be heard, and the smell of cooking food and chocolate hit their noses. It was already a little overwhelming and they hadn't even stepped inside.
When Hermione pushed the door open, warmth enveloped them and they followed after her, removing their coats and hanging them up on the rack with the many others and Hermione vanished the snow from their shoes.
Dean's attention darted between his surroundings and watching for his father's reaction, taking in the photographs that filled the walls, the Christmas decorations, the fairies.
"Wait? Are they fairies?" Sam asked in surprise.
Hermione's mouth tugged into a smile. "Yes, they're fairy lights."
"I've seen it all now," his father said from behind them.
"You really haven't," Hermione replied, a smirk tugging at her mouth as she peered at him over her shoulder.
She led them down a corridor and into a living room that was far too small for the amount of people it held, but Dean otherwise would've described it as being warm and comfortable with the warn furniture, the large lit fireplace, the tree in the corner surrounded by presents and the decorations covering almost every surface.
The adults each held a steaming mug whilst they were squished onto chairs and couches whilst the children were dotted about the floor, the younger ones held by the parents and the toddlers and older kids were peering at the gifts under the tree. Some of them Dean recognised, some of them he didn't.
"Dad, when can we open our presents?" One of the children asked, and it was soon chorused by the rest of them.
"We're just waiting for someone," one of Hermione's brother's said, he didn't recognise him.
"Who?" The child frowned.
Hermione took a step forward and called out, "Me!" Her arms opened and ready for the attack of hugs she was about to receive.
"Aunt 'Mione!"
Dean shared an amused glance with Sam when Hermione was tackled onto the ground by half a dozen children, her laughter drowned out by that of her siblings.
Dean didn't have to wait long as he was soon assaulted by both James and Albus, the two children he knew the best and he happily accepted their hugs and words of excitement that he'd come to spend Christmas with them before they moved to Sam. When they did so, Dean spied his father cautiously scanning those in the room, both adults and children. Dean didn't know what he was looking for, they all looked like perfectly normal human beings, and maybe that was the problem. Since discovering the magic of the trueborns, his father had come to realise any person he passed in the street could be a witch or wizard and he'd never know because there was no physical difference between them.
"Papa Jon!" James greeted, hugging his father around the waist and Albus latched onto his leg.
"Hello, boys," his father cleared his throat and patted them both on the head awkwardly, something Sam found amusing.
"I'm so glad you could make it,"
Dean turned his eyes away from his father and to the older redheaded woman approaching them, an apron tied around her waist, her cheeks flushed and a hand cloth held in her grasp, before she dropped it onto a small side table as she crossed the room.
"You know I could never miss Christmas as the Burrow," Hermione smiled, happily accepting the woman's bear hug, relaxing into it and releasing a sigh.
"Dean, Samuel, it's lovely to see you again, I'm happy you decided to join us this year," the redhead smiled, pulling back from Hermione and pulling both him and Sam into a hug, no longer being surprised by the action and he found himself relaxing into it this time, being more comfortable than he'd been last time.
"Thank you for inviting us," Sam replied politely.
"Dear, you're welcome here anytime," she smiled, patting his cheek affectionately before her eyes darted over them, her lips pursing and her brow furrowing. "Goodness, you're too skinny, you really must eat more. Not to worry, we'll soon put some meat on your bones," she assured them, sniggers and chuckles sounding from the children and adults behind them. "And who's this fellow?"
"Our dad, Jon," Dean answered.
"Oh, well it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Molly, Hermione's mother if you will, Arthur, my husband, has just popped upstairs and will be down in a moment. You've raised two wonderful young men," she smiled.
Dean's mouth tugged into a smirk and Sam bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing when the older woman pulled him into a hug, his father stiffening and his eyes widening.
"Thank you, you have a... Unique home," he commented once he'd broken free of her.
"It's not much but it's home," she smiled. "Let's get you settled and introduced to the rest of the family and we can finally open the presents."
Hermione took his hand in hers and once more slipped her arm through Sam's, tugging them further into the room and towards the gathered crowd. As the introductions began, Dean didn't know when but the cats had made an appearance, Crookshanks lapping up the attention of the children, Domino hiding behind Sam and Sadie stood by his feet, rubbing her face against his jean-clad leg, offering comfort. He needed it.
When the introductions were over, Hermione conjured up a couple of chairs for Sam and his father and she squeezed into an armchair with him. Mugs of hot peppermint tea were pressed into their hands by Molly and though he wasn't much of a lover of tea, preferring coffee, he quietly sipped at the hot liquid, partaking in their Christmas tradition as they watched the children open their gifts.
Before he knew it, stuffed toys had been charmed and were acting out scenes for the laughing children, children were hovering off the ground on training brooms and fake snow exploded from little boxes above them, disappearing before it landed on their heads, and with the children occupied, it came to the turn of the adults to exchange gifts.
Dean had been surprised to receive a dark green knitted sweater with his initial on, matching the many others that each member of Hermione's family sported, including Hermione herself, hers being a plum colour, and Sam received one, too, his dark blue. Dean knew he'd never wear it but it was the thought that counted. It meant Molly Weasley had accepted him and his brother as part of the family, something that Dean felt quite touched by. Despite having no intention of wearing the sweater, after a narrowed-eyed look from Hermione and seeing Sam wearing his after the encouragement of the children, Dean sighed and slipped it on over his t-shirt, the wool surprisingly soft. This would be the only time he'd wear and certainly never in public.
He wasn't entirely sure what Hermione had gifted his father, he hadn't allowed anyone to see and he'd kept the lid on the box when peering at the contents. But it was clear that whatever it was, it'd surprised him. Sam, she'd gifted him a stack of books. Dean hadn't bothered to look at the titles, it holding no interest to him but his brother had been happy.
Dean had been nervous when she'd opened his gifts to her and he'd only calmed once a smile had settled on her face and she'd hugged him tightly. He'd purchased her a simple silver tennis bracelet, something she'd put on immediately after opening it, and he'd also gotten her a cropped leather jacket. She'd loved them both.
Her gift to him had been a new watch but he'd learned she'd spent weeks working her magic on it, being careful not to damage the mechanism inside and as a result, it was not only made of silver, it not only told the date, time and held a compass, it not only had the feature of setting an alarm, it was not only water-proof and resistant, it was not only bomb and bulletproof, but it held a secret compartment he'd be able to hide a shrunken down weapon inside in cases of emergency. It wasn't the gift itself, but the thought, time and effort she'd put into, that made him love it so much and he'd been quick to discard his current watch and replace it with the new one.
"Right then, let's get outside and have some fun, it's snowing!" George Weasley called. "The last one there's a rotten dragon's egg!"
There was a flurry of movement as the children darted after him, following him outside whilst their mothers shouted after them to put on their shoes, coats, hats and scarves, soon following after them when they hadn't listened and coats and shoes levitated through the house and outside.
"Let's join them, there's always an epic snowball fight and I like to observe before I choose my side," Hermione grinned, dragging him up from his seat and outside, Sam and his father following.
The women had soon magicked and wrestled coats and the like onto the kids and disappeared into the kitchen to help with the preparation of dinner and make some hot chocolate, the men had joined the children, some having a snowball fight and others making snowmen, and that included Sam, whilst he, Hermione and his father observed from the porch. The cats had remained inside, Dean seeing they'd curled up on a window ledge and appeared to be watching the children.
Ginny soon sidled up beside him, Lilly cradled in her arms and she pulled him and Hermione into conversation until she was hit in the face by a snowball that appeared from nowhere.
"George! That almost hit Lily, you bloody prat!" She shrieked, quickly shuffling Lily into his arms and she pulled her wand, storming down the steps of the porch and over to George who had turned and ran away from her, ducking behind one of his nieces for protection.
Snorting as the siblings squabbled and threatened one another, which was soon followed by an attack of Ginny lobbing snowballs relentlessly, Dean's eyes shifted down to Lily in his arms.
Had it really only been three weeks since he'd last seen her? He would swear she'd grown so much in such a little time. She was dressed in a white winter coat, a red hat on her head, red mittens on her hands, red tights keeping her legs warm and white snow boots protecting her tiny feet from the cold. He knew she wearing a dress printed with snowflakes beneath her coat and as she stared up at him with her green eyes, she looked adorable. The little lady had stolen his heart the moment he'd held her as a newborn. Being with Hermione meant being a part of her huge-ass family, but he was surprisingly okay with that. Growing up, it had only been him, Sam and their dad, as an adult, he now had something he'd always wanted. A proper family. And it was all because of Hermione.
"So, enjoying yourself so far?" Hermione's voice flittered to his ears and he tore his eyes from Lily, looking to her.
"It was a little strange at first, but yeah, it hasn't been too bad," he answered.
"Wait for dinner, you'll never want to leave," she replied. "Crap! Duck!"
Dean wasted no time in quickly squatting down with Hermione doing the same beside him, a parade of snowballs hitting the wall of the house behind them, George's and Charlie's loud laughter mixing with the children's.
"That's it!" Hermione called, rising to her full height, pulling her wand from her pocket and marching forward, snowballs magically forming as she flicked her wand and they went sailing through the air, hitting the children with far less force than it did her brothers.
They soon retaliated and before Dean knew it, a war had broken out between everyone, the women returned from the kitchen and had soon joined in with the fun. Dean couldn't stop his smile or laughter when Hermione was tackled by the older children, sprawling on the ground in the snow before they grabbed a handful of snow and stuffed it down her back, her shrieks sounding loudly.
This was part of his life now. It'd only been a few hours and it was already the best Christmas he'd ever had and he looking forward to many more.
"You love her, don't you?"
Dean's gaze moved to his father as he stepped beside him, his hands stuffed in his pockets and his focus seemingly on the snowball fight.
"She wants me to forgive you," Dean replied, gliding over his words and turning his attention back to Lily when she made a crying sound and he gently rocked her until she settled. "I don't know if I can. I don't trust you around her and I'm never going to leave her alone if you're nearby. If you want my forgiveness, you're going to have to earn it."
"It seems we've missed all the fun," Arthur Weasley said from behind him, as he stepped out of the house, smiling wildly at the sight of his children and grandchildren playing in the snow. "I'm afraid to break it up," he said almost sadly before shaking his head. "Dinner's ready!" He called louder.
Dean had to move aside as he was almost trampled by the stampede of adults and children that rushed to the house, and he blinked slowly in surprise.
"Weasleys, they love their food," Hermione laughed as she approached them, brushing snow from her hair. "Come on, we better get in there before they eat it all."
~000~000~000~
As Dean sat in an armchair by the fire, a glass of fire whiskey in hand and Hermione curled up in his lap, he couldn't remember a time he'd felt happier.
After the children had been put to bed, the alcohol flowed freely and whilst Hermione's siblings chatted, drank and played games, his father had been pulled into an awkward-looking conversation with Arthur, Sam was playing a game of magical chess with Harry and the women relaxed and spoke amongst each other, he relaxed by the fire after a long day.
"So, Winchester, Christmas at the Burrow next year?" Hermione said quietly, sounding sleepy.
"Sounds like a plan," he agreed.
Hermione smiled up at him before she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You promise to take care of me when George hides my Hangover Potion and I'm a hungover monster?"
He snorted at her. "I thought ahead, I slipped one of your potions into my jacket pocket before leaving the hotel. He won't expect me to have brought one, too."
She blinked slowly before a smile tugged at her face.
"You, Mr. Winchester, are a genius," she praised, snuggling into him further and a sigh leaving her when he chuckled and turned his head to press a kiss to her forehead.
Yes, Christmas with her family would be done every year. He'd make sure of it.