CHAPTER TWELVE
Summary: Nine years after the war, Hermione's the Head of the Auror Department that specialises in dealing with Magical Creatures and fugitive Death Eaters that are loose in the Muggle World. With the fugitive Death Eaters no longer hiding in Britain, she's tracking rogue Death Eaters in the United States, which leads her to The Winchester brothers. The Witch and The Hunters are a dynamic trio that no creature, being or beast wishes to mess with, Magical or Supernatural. Hermione/Dean pairing. Rated M for a reason.
Disclaimer: I don't own original canon characters or events, just those that I create myself. Everything belongs to J.K Rowling and the creators of Supernatural. I am not making a profit posting this fanfic.
Warning for possible triggers with sexual assault.
Page count: 11
In Hermione's slumbering mind, she knew something was wrong. Deep down she knew she should wake up but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She was exhausted; her mind overcrowded with thoughts of Death Eaters, murders, rituals and memories of the war and she wanted to escape at least one of those things for a little. Sleep was the only way to do that, even if it intensified the others.
Her brain knew something was wrong but it was buried by everything else. That was why she didn't feel the bed dip under someone's weight, why she didn't feel the blanket being pulled away from her, and why she didn't feel someone moving over her until it was too late.
Something touched the skin of her neck and she bolted upright, reaching for her wand, but she didn't have it; she'd left it on the table and that was a mistake, the one time she didn't have her wand and she needed it.
The man from the front desk was straddling her legs, her eyes landed on the lightly muscled chest before they wandered up to his face. What she saw scared her; an animalist look held in his eyes and a frightening grin on his lips. Her eyes widened in surprise, horror, and before she could let out a scream, a hand clamped down over her mouth and the other wrapped around her throat, pushing her down into the mattress and onto her back, holding her in place.
She wriggled and writhed underneath him, trying to buck him off her but he was too heavy for her small frame. Without her wand she's defenceless. How could she have been so stupid to leave her wand on the table? She always went to sleep with it on her. She blamed the Winchesters; she'd let her guard drop around them, making her careless.
"There's no point in screaming, there's no one else here. Your boyfriends are gone, I saw them take the car and there's no other occupants, it's just you and me," he cooed down at her.
Her efforts to get him off her doubled to the point where she could feel herself beginning to tire, she could feel her legs bruising under his heavier weight, she could feel his hand on her throat tightening; it was getting harder to breathe and she knew she'd have bruises there, too.
He brought his hand away from her mouth and the muffled sounds of her screams died down to cries, tears beginning to leak from her eyes in terror. He trailed his fingers down her face and she turned her head away from him but he turned it back forcefully and cupped her cheek, wiping her fallen tears away.
'Castiel! Castiel!' She thought in panic, but he didn't come.
"I'm going to make you feel so good, Anna," he whispered.
At the sound of the unknown name falling from his lips, Hermione understood he was far more terrifying than she'd previously thought and completely bonkers, too. The panic within her doubled and she thrashed and writhed harder, trying to break free of his hold and weight.
He raised his hand high before bringing it down and backhanding her. A tingling sensation strung against her cheek and he caught her lip and it split, blood beginning to drip from the wound. Hermione cried out at the pain and continued to thrash, she screamed as loud as she could, hoping that someone, anyone, would hear her, help her.
"I love you, Anna, why would you cheat on me? If you're good enough to fuck two bastards at the same time, you're good enough to fuck me, you bitch!" He spat at her. The grip on her throat tightened and she gasped for air. "It's time to show you why leaving me was a mistake," he sneered at her.
He brought his free hand down and grabbed the hem of her shirt and Hermione used her hands to try and push him off her, pounding her fists against his chest but having little to no effect. He grunted and grabbed both of her hands in his and pinned them above her head, his other hand coming away from her throat and she coughed and gasped as oxygen was suddenly flowing to her lungs again. He backhanded her once more, cutting her left cheek as he caught it with the ring of his finger, before he brought his hand down and ripped the collar of her t-shirt, the sound of the fabric tearing being loud in the quiet of the room and the tear ended just below her breasts.
Hermione screamed at the top of her lungs until her throat burned, doing her best to kick her legs free of him and to wrestle her wrists from his tight grasp but he was too strong for her, too heavy and large for her smaller frame.
"Shut it!" He hissed, bringing his free hand up to cover her mouth and muffle her screams.
Hermione saw an opportunity and took it. She pulled her lips back and sank her teeth straight into his flesh, biting down hard enough that he emitted a loud noise of pain and he pulled his hand back from her mouth instantly. Hermione's screams and cries continued as she writhed and bucked against him, hoping to use his distraction as an advantage and get him off her. But it didn't work; she'd only angered him further.
"You stupid whore," he snarled, his uninjured hand curling into a fist and she saw stars when it collided with her face, choking on her screams when she heard the 'crunch' of her nose breaking and she felt the pain of it throbbing dully and the warm liquid seeping out.
Hermione cried as his hand smoothed down her neck, over her collar bone and across her breasts. When he lowered his head closer to her neck, Hermione took her chance; she took a deep breath and forgot about the throbbing of her nose as she brought her head up and head-butted him in the face. She heard a 'crack' and he cursed as he brought both hands to his broken nose, trying to stop the bleeding and his noise of pain muffled by his hands.
Now that her hands were free, she stretched as far as she could and she reached for the lamp on the bedside table; ripping the cord from the plug socket as she lifted the lamp and brought it crashing down on the back of his head.
He fell to the side and Hermione pushed him off her, she kicked the blankets away and with the broken lamp in hand, she ran to the other side of the room and hid in the corner, the lamp as her weapon. She cried as the man lay unconscious on the bed and praying that someone would help her.
~000~000~000~
"Let's head back," Dean suggested, carrying the two pizza boxes whilst Sam carried the beer.
"Hermione said to take our time."
"I know, but I want to get back. I have a bad feeling; we should've never left her alone."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "You're worried about Hermione?"
"No," Dean denied.
"You like her, like, like her like her," he teased.
"No, I don't!"
"Yes, you do, but Hermione can take care of herself, she's a war veteran, there's not much than can get past her."
"Still, we should head back, we've got a long drive tomorrow and we're going to need the sleep."
Sam shrugged his shoulders and they both hopped into the Impala, it taking almost ten minutes to arrive back at the motel. The moment Dean stepped out of the car he knew something wasn't right, something just seemed...Off, wrong. Without thought, he rested his hand on his gun but didn't pull it.
"What are you doing?" Sam asked.
"Something's wrong," he muttered, his eyes darting around in the darkness of the parking lot, searching for any possible threats.
He slowly walked towards their room and his ears picked up on the sounds of crying, an accurate description would be sobbing; cries of fear and despair. Before Dean could rush forward, Sam placed a hand on his shoulder and kept him back by pinning him with a slight glare. They had to be careful; they didn't know what they were walking into.
Sam placed the pizza and beer on the ground and pulled his own gun and together they advanced on their room, their guns raised and ready to be fired at a moment's notice should they need to be. When Sam noticed the window being open a frown pulled at his face, the cries now being louder.
Dean couldn't take it anymore and he quickened his steps as he approached the door to their room, ignoring his brother's whispered hisses that he'd broken from the plan. He tried the door after seeing the key in the lock but it wouldn't open, so he entered through the open window, briefly hearing Sam groan in annoyance before he followed after him, walking straight into the back of Dean who was stood rooted to the spot in surprise, and he could see why.
The guy from the front desk was sprawled out on the bed, shirtless, with blood flowing from his nose and the back of his head and glass shards surrounding him.
Their eyes fell to Hermione; she was cowering in the corner of the room, crying and shaking like a leaf. Her t-shirt was torn, her cheek, nose and lip bleeding; she was pale and she gripped a broken lamp to her chest as if it was the only thing keeping her alive.
It didn't take a genius to figure out what had happened in their absence.
Sam saw Dean stiffen and could practically feel the rage that coursed through him. The Hunter stalked forward and dropped his handgun to the floor, intending to beat the shit out of the unconscious guy on the bed with his bare hands, but Sam prevented him from doing so when he grabbed Dean by the collar and before an argument could take place, he gave him a shove in Hermione's direction.
Sam watched as Dean's enraged expression suddenly left him, only for it to be replaced with fear and concern. He rushed forward and dropped onto his knees beside Hermione, he was whispering to her, but she didn't hear him, didn't take notice. He reached out to touch her shoulder and she screamed bloody murder, the sound piercing their ears. In surprise, he swiftly pulled his hand back before taking a deep breath and he reached forward once more, this time going for the lamp. She clutched it tighter and fought him for it.
"Hermione," he said softly.
She froze at hearing her name fall from his lips.
Her glazed over eyes seemed to come into focus as she looked up at him, blinking several times and shaking her head to remove the haze from her mind. Upon noticing that Sam and Dean were with her and that she was finally safe, her cries only grew louder but with relief, not fear. She dropped the lamp from her hands and launched herself at him, her arms looping around his neck and her head burying between his shoulder and neck.
Dean was surprised to say the least but he quickly recovered, wrapping his arms around her back and rubbing comfortingly, whispering reassuring words into her ear. He shifted so that he sat on the ground, leaning back against the wall and Hermione was leaning against him, clinging to him tightly.
Sam glanced at them sadly before pulling out his phone and calling the police, his eyes still on Hermione and Dean as he did so. When he hung up he told Dean the police were on their way and then he quickly picked up Dean's fallen gun and their duffle bags with their weapons in, along with Hermione's books and notes. He then unlocked the door and ran down to the Impala to hide the weapons and books from the police before he returned to the room, positioning himself so he stood beside the bed in case the unconscious man woke before the police arrived. It would give him the best vantage point to both keep the guy restrained and keep Dean away from him should he decide to get justice for Hermione without the aid of the law, which Sam knew Dean was more than capable of doing and something he wouldn't hesitate to do, either.
Sam's eyes never left Hermione or Dean, watching the way his brother comforted the understandably distraught and terrified witch, all without complaint or a single snarky comment. He just held her to him, rubbing comforting circles on her back and whispered to her. Being too far away he wasn't able to hear but he didn't need to and he wasn't sure he wanted to, either. It seemed too personal to interrupt or intrude on their privacy.
Dean brought his hands to Hermione's shoulders and gently pushed her back and away from him so that he could look at her. He moved his hands up to carefully cup her cheeks, his eyes scanning her face and cataloguing her injuries, rage flashing through his eyes and they darted to the unconscious heap on the bed, as if deciding on how he would make the man pay for what he'd done, but when Hermione's grip tightened on him he managed to calm himself, not completely but enough to know she needed his attention and she was his first priority.
Dean's thumbs swiped away her falling tears before gently grazing her cheek, wiping away the blood and he did the same to her lip, apologizing softly when she whimpered in pain. With his thumbs, he carefully probed and examined her nose, she let out a cry of pain and he wiped away the blood before moving his hands back to holding her cheeks. He'd seen enough broken noses to know when one was broken, and hers certainly was.
"You're safe now, I won't let anything happen to you," Dean muttered softly after catching Hermione's gaze. She let out another sob and Dean pulled her back into his body, wrapping her up in his arms and holding her against him gently, protectively, as he whispered to her.
Sam could honestly say, he'd never been prouder of his older brother.
Soon enough the police arrived with flashing lights and sirens along with the paramedics. The guy was still unconscious and he was put onto a gurney and taken to an ambulance, where the police followed them to the hospital and two police officers stayed behind to take statements.
"Miss. Jones, I'm Officer Garcia, this is Officer Peters," the young brunette said softly as she crouched down to Hermione's level. "We need to take your statement."
Neither Hermione nor Dean had moved from their places on the floor in the last thirty minutes, though Hermione's cries had quieted down to whimpers and sniffles. Hermione finally lifted her head from Dean's neck and she turned to look at her, her eyes were bloodshot and puffy, her cheeks tearstained and her face bright red. Officer Garcia gave her a comforting smile.
"The only way we can prosecute is if we have your statement."
Hermione slowly nodded but didn't move away from Dean, rather, she tucked her head under his chin and her cheek pressed to his chest. For the next fifteen minutes Hermione told them everything, Dean's grip on her had slowly begun to tighten until she gasped and he loosened his hold on her but not by much.
"Thank you, we have paramedics waiting to see to you."
"No, I'm fine, just a few cuts, they'll heal," she said quietly.
"I really think that..."
"She said she was fine," Dean said sharply, glaring at the officer.
She didn't take offence, she merely nodded in acceptance. "We may need you to testify so you shouldn't go too far."
"We're only passing through, we're travelling for work and we'll be gone by lunchtime tomorrow," Sam spoke, looking at Hermione sadly and worriedly.
"Well..."
Hermione cut her off. "He's done this before," she whispered.
"What?" The officer said quickly.
"He's done this before."
"Are you sure?"
Hermione nodded. "Positive, I have no evidence but I know what I saw. He was too confident in his ability to achieve what he set out to do and he just knew he would achieve it and get away with it. He expertly entered the room without me hearing it and trust me, Officer, there isn't much that gets past me. My parents have a military background and I was brought up on their beliefs that I should know how to defend myself and always be aware of my surroundings. I also fought in the war myself, my battle instincts should've kicked in."
"There was something off about him, he made me feel uncomfortable whilst I was checking in and he kept watching me, flirting with me. Then he pulled a Peeping Tom and Dean had to threaten him with the police to get him to leave. There was a coldness in him, a sense of arrogance, evil. He called me Anna and asked how I could cheat on him. He got the wrong impression about me; Sam and Dean are my brothers. Whoever he thought I was he wanted to punish me, he's done this before, I'm sure of it."
"We'll look into it, in the meantime, you should see about seeking medical attention, if not tonight, then tomorrow. We'll leave you to rest."
Both officers left the room, closing the door behind them and Sam watched from the window as the police car left before he drew the curtains fully closed and locked the door once more.
"Are you alright?" Sam asked Hermione softly, crouching down in front of them.
"Of course, she isn't!" Dean snapped. "She was attacked," he hissed.
"Boys," Hermione muttered tiredly and they both looked down at her; she looked exhausted.
"Hermione, why didn't you use your wand?" Sam asked her. Dean glared at him for asking such a question given what she'd just been through.
"I left it on the table and couldn't get to it. I didn't hear him come in because I was so tired and my guard has significantly lowered since meeting you both. There is such a thing as wandless magic, but it's extremely difficult to master; it requires patience, concentration and a clear mind, of which, I had none. I was too busy trying to breathe as he had his hands wrapped around my throat," she said. Dean hugged her tighter and Sam looked at her sadly. "My intruder alarms weren't activated because I only charmed the door, I didn't think to apply the alarms to the windows, I completely forgot," she trailed off. "Can I borrow someone's phone?"
"Sure," Sam smiled at her, pulling his phone from his pocket and handing it to her.
She flipped it open and pressed a series of numbers on the keypad before a ringing could be heard.
"Hello, thank you for calling the Ministry of Magic, how may I direct your call?" They heard a British accent over the speaker and Hermione placed the phone on loudspeaker so they all could hear.
"This is Head Auror Hermione Granger; I would like to speak to Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt."
"And what does the matter pertain?" The snobby sounding woman asked.
"It's classified,"
"I'm sorry, Miss. Granger..."
"Head Auror Granger," Hermione interrupted.
"Head Auror Granger," the woman corrected, not sounding pleased. "I cannot allow you to speak with Minister Shacklebolt without a reason."
"I have a reason, it is classified, something that you are not cleared for..."
"Listen here..." The woman snapped.
"No, you listen here, you're interfering in a classified matter, one in which I will have charges brought up against you for obstruction of justice, not to mention, Minister Shacklebolt will not be pleased to hear that his employees are keeping his Department Head from conversing with him on important matters, matters that don't concern you, so you get him for me, or I'll port-key over there for the simple reason of transfiguring you into a bloody weasel and then feeding you to a hippogriff, no one will find your remains since they'll be digested in the hippogriff's stomach and then later excreted and turned into fertilizer. Put the God damn Minister on the phone!" Hermione growled in annoyance.
The line on the other end was silent for an entire minute.
"Minster Shacklebolt will be with you momentarily," the woman's voice shook.
"About bloody time," she muttered. Sam and Dean looked to each other and then to her in awe, surprised by her outburst.
"Hermione, must you always terrify the receptionist," Kingsley's voice came over the line, chuckling.
"She was being a pain in the arse, a pain I don't have time for," she muttered.
"Is everything alright, Hermione, it's not often you call on this fely-thing?"
"Telephone," Hermione corrected automatically. "And no, Kings, I'm not alright, but I will be, I was attacked."
"What? Who was it? Death Eaters? How many? Where are you? Do you need back-up?"
"Kings, calm down, it wasn't Death Eaters. I was attacked by a muggle; he broke into my motel room when I was sleeping. He tried to rape me." Kingsley let out a growl and a sound of disgust. "I knocked him out with a lamp as my wand was out of reach. The muggle police have taken him to hospital for treatment."
"You would like me to do something?"
"Yes, I'm certain that my attacker has done this before and I'm not his only victim."
"Alright, I'll have Harry send over an Auror to do some digging, they'll work with the local police until either your suspicions are confirmed or proven wrong. He won't get away with attacking you."
"Thank you, Kings, please don't tell anyone."
"Of course, your identity will be kept classified, my ears only," he promised her. "What do you know about him?"
"Jackson Bowman, brown eyes, blonde hair, late twenties, angular and pointed features, approximately five-foot-nine."
"I'll get right on it. Location?"
"Sioux City, Iowa, I'll send over the coordinates."
"It'll take a few hours to approve a port-key and inform the chosen Auror. Is there anyone you would like specifically?"
"Auror Kyle, he's experienced in this area, I was his examiner six years ago so I know what he's capable of."
"Good choice. And now for a change in subject, how is your search coming along?"
"I believe we've found their headquarters. I found a pattern in the killings, twenty-seven murders in nine months, three at a time. When joining the dots on the map it creates the snake from the dark mark. The only location missing was Cleveland, Tennessee. We're heading over there but we had to stop for the night, we should be there by tomorrow night. I believe they're completing a ritual but I'm not sure which one yet, I'll let you know if I need back-up."
"You do that, Hermione."
"Bye, Kings,"
"Goodbye, Hermione," he said.
Hermione ended the call before quickly sending the coordinates through a text message and she flipped the phone closed and handed it back to Sam.
"How do you expect this Kyle guy to find something the police don't?" Sam asked her.
"We have resources available to us that muggles don't. We have the ability to read a person's mind, with or without their knowledge; it depends on how good of a Legilimens you are. We also have Veritaserum, a Truth Potion that forces a person to tell the truth. Any attempt to lie will result in pain and it won't subside until the truth is spoken. Five minutes alone in a room with Bowman and Kyle will walk out knowing his every secret. I'm certain he's done this to others before, though I suspect I'm the only one to succeed in fighting him off. It'll be easy for Kyle to get a confession, afterwards, all he has to do is gather evidence which won't take him long, as I said to Kings, this is his area of expertise. He despises rapists and killers, more so than any other type of criminal. In his personnel file it states that his older muggle sister was raped and murdered when he was thirteen years old," she spoke sadly and the room fell into silence.
"Are you hungry?" Dean asked her quietly, breaking the silence.
"No, I just want to sleep," she muttered.
"If that's what you want, I wouldn't eat the pizza anyway, Sam dropped it on the floor, the beer might be okay though," he shrugged. She shook her head; she truly just wanted to sleep.
Sam helped her to stand and she wobbled on her feet before she caught herself and she held her torn t-shirt so that it covered her form and she slowly crossed to the table where she picked up her wand and felt the comfort of it wash over her, making her feel safe and protected; she wouldn't be relinquishing it any time soon. Much to their awe, with a flick of her wand her broken nose was healed and the blood vanished from her face, and another wave of her wand had the bed enlarged to a king-sized, it only just fitting in the room. Deciding to change the sheets, too, she flicked her wrist and they were replaced.
She stood rooted to the spot, not moving, barely breathing or blinking, she just stared at the bed.
Dean found her beaded bag on the table and opened it up, warily he stuck his hand inside and he was surprised when he was able to feel around and several things touched against his fingers; he was looking for a new shirt for Hermione to sleep in and he couldn't find one, so he brought his hand out and put the bag back on the table.
He shrugged off his leather jacket and flung it onto a chair before shrugging off his shirt and putting that on top of his jacket. This left him in his t-shirt, which he pulled off and walked over to Hermione, leaving him shirtless with only his jeans and shoes for clothing.
He put his hand on her shoulder and she jumped and tensed, but quickly relaxed realising it was only Dean and he meant her no harm. He held out his t-shirt in offering and slowly she took it from him.
"Thank you," she whispered.
He didn't reply, but he and Sam shared a look and they both turned around to give her some privacy without having to leave the room.
"It's okay," she spoke quietly.
They turned around to see that Dean's t-shirt was a little too big for her with it falling to her mid-thigh, her leggings being seen beneath it and she still held her wand in her hand. Her damaged t-shirt had been thrown in the bin across the room and still she just stood there, staring at the bed in silence.
"It's time to get some sleep, Hermione," Sam said softly.
Hermione lifted her eyes to him to see that he gave her a soft, comforting smile as he nodded to the bed in encouragement. She gave her wand a wave and a potion came flying from her bag and she caught it in her hand. She wasn't scheduled to take a Dreamless Sleep Potion but she needed it and she wasted no time in downing it in one and she vanished the vial before she climbed into bed, shifting into the middle of the mattress and burrowing under the blanket. Still, she didn't relinquish her wand.
Dean and Sam looked at each other, having a silent conversation.
"I'm okay, just get in," Hermione said tiredly.
They looked at each other once more before kicking off their shoes and Sam shrugged off his jacket. Cautiously, they made their way to the bed and slid under the covers still dressed in their clothes, minus Dean his shirt and they got comfortable on either side of Hermione. There was plenty of room for all three of them without them having to touch each other; they each had their own little space.
Hermione had already fallen asleep, Sam soon followed her, yet Dean was still awake, staring at Hermione's sleeping face as she was facing him. She looked relaxed; the only sign of her previous distress and attack was that of tear tracks on her cheeks, her injuries having been healed and the blood washed from her face.
Her breathing was even and relaxed, she was curled in on herself, the blanket pulled up to her chin and he saw the tip of her wand peeking out from under the covers of where her hand rested on the pillow beside her head, her wand clasped in the closed fist.
He frowned when he realised he had been watching her for far longer than what was considered normal or appropriate, and he forced himself to follow their example, drifting off to sleep.