CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Summary: Nine years after the war, Hermione's the Head of the Auror Department that specialises in dealing with Magical Creatures and fugitive Death Eaters that are loose in the Muggle World. With the fugitive Death Eaters no longer hiding in Britain, she's tracking rogue Death Eaters in the United States, which leads her to The Winchester brothers. The Witch and The Hunters are a dynamic trio that no creature, being or beast wishes to mess with, Magical or Supernatural. Hermione/Dean pairing. Rated M for a reason.
Disclaimer: I don't own original canon characters or events, just those that I create myself. Everything belongs to J.K Rowling and the creators of Supernatural. I am not making a profit posting this fanfic.
Page count: 7
Hermione walked to the kitchen table after quickly showering and dressing in a pair of blue skinny jeans, pink converse and a pink t-shirt. She sat at the table, greeting both Sam and Dean as they had beaten her there, though she quickly looked down at her food that appeared, when Dean sent her a heated gaze.
"Anything, Sam?" Hermione asked after clearing her throat.
"No, just a car crash victim, a few accidental deaths and a few natural causes," he replied, putting down the newspaper he had been scanning through.
"Anything online?" Dean asked, as he all but inhaled his breakfast.
"No, my laptop won't turn on," he frowned confused.
"That's my fault," Hermione interrupted and they both looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "Technology will not and does not function around me or magic, anything that runs on electricity or radio waves will short circuit. You're in a magical building, you're lucky it didn't blow up in your face. That's why you won't find a TV or a fridge, even lights," she shrugged and they blinked in surprise.
"But you've used both of our cell phones," Sam said.
"They're only small technological items and I am able to use them for short periods of time, anything longer than ten minutes and it'll be fried." They were surprised by the news.
"So what do children do growing up?"
"We do have our own sports and league and world cups; Quidditch is the most popular, so children play that. They fly on brooms, they play outdoors, they play wizarding chess or exploding snap and other wizarding board games, or they read and make up stories, role play, messy play, they have a lot to keep them busy and since most of them grow up not knowing what a TV is, they're not missing anything. I was raised in this world and to be honest with you, I never missed technology, well, I did miss lights since they have less of a chance of setting your room on fire." They stared at her surprised. "Anyway, should we get the tattoos today?"
"Tattoos?" Sam questioned.
"Hermione's getting the anti-possession tattoo," Dean shrugged.
"You'll need it travelling with us," Sam agreed.
"In return, we're getting a magical tattoo."
"A magical tattoo? Of what?"
"The runes I drew on your arms before the battle, it'll give you more protection, especially when magic is fed into them, and you're going to need it if you're helping me with my cases, some of the creatures I deal with are not pleasant," she shivered as many of them ran through her mind.
"They can't be as bad as a demon or vampire," Dean snorted.
"Some of them are."
"I doubt a furry little creature is worse than vampires."
"Tell me, Dean, have you ever come across a dementor? No, well, for you they are invisible because you're a ,uggle. For me I see a black mist wearing tattered black robes, with skeletal, rotting hands. And when their hoods are removed, I see no eyes, only a nose and mouth with hundreds of razor sharp teeth. And do you know what they use these for? No, well, they use them to suck out your soul. They feed on every positive thought and emotion in your life and drain your life force right out of you," she said sweetly, and they both had gone pale. "Have you ever heard of a boggart, a veela or doxys and grindylows, even a graphorn?" He shook his head, looking chastised and Sam sniggered. "Well, they are all dangerous in their own ways and no matter their size or power, they're able to inflict serious damage upon you."
They fell silent; the only sound of Sam's sniggers filling the room.
Dean kept stealing glances at her as she fumed and ate her breakfast in silence. When she finished her dishes vanished from the table and she stood and retrieved her bag, heading towards the lift.
"Let's go and get those tattoos," she said with no emotion to her voice.
Sam smacked Dean upside the head for clearly upsetting her and they followed her out of the building.
The atmosphere in the car was quiet and tense with Hermione only speaking to give directions. By the time they pulled up at the side of the curb, they were in front of a muggle tattoo parlour.
When they climbed out of the car, Hermione took a hold of Sam and Dean's arms and they spluttered when another building suddenly appeared next to it.
"Magical tattoo parlour, there's a magical university nearby and when you get alcohol into students, it mostly ends with tattoos, particularly magical ones since they're painless, this particular parlour is hardly ever closed, apart from holidays, otherwise it's open twenty-four seven," she explained, before dragging them forward and into the building and she released her hold on them once they cleared the threshold.
The building appeared to be lot bigger on the inside and it was decorated in calming tones of blue and white, the leather furniture was black and the reception area was light wood furniture. The waiting area was covered with moving posters featuring different tattoos and designs and magazines and drawings littered the tables in the seating area.
The place was crowded, every seat already taken and some were stood leaning against the walls. When they entered they all turned to look at the new comers and Hermione sighed when the room went quiet.
"Hermione Granger! It's her! It's really her!" Whispers broke out and before she knew it, she was being surrounded by people waving magazines and parchment in her face, wanting autographs.
Hermione put on the friendly smile she had perfected over the years, the one she reserved for the public. Sam and Dean were surprised by the reaction and could barely hear themselves think and their eyes squeezed shut tightly when camera flashes started going off.
"I know she said she was famous, but I never thought it would be to this extent," Dean muttered to Sam, as he watched Hermione conversing with the people, signing her name and taking photos with them.
"Alright you creepy fuckers, move it!" A voice called, quieting down the crowd and they parted as a man covered in tattoos, made his way to Hermione.
"Now then Granger, long time no see," the man said and Dean watched in jealousy as she beamed at him and hugged him tightly. "Come this way, I'll get you sorted."
"I can't do that, all these people were here before me," she frowned.
The man shrugged, "My shift's over in ten minutes, there's nothing they can do about it." He took her hand and pulled her through the crowd, Dean and Sam following behind her as he led them into a room, filled to the brim of all the regular tattooing essentials.
Dean sized the man up, he was five-foot-ten with blonde wavy hair and dark green eyes, he had tattoos covering his arms and they disappeared under his sleeves, and reappeared on his neck.
"So, Granger, are you going to introduce me to your friends?" He said.
Hermione hopped up onto the tattooing bench and swung her legs back and forth.
"Cal, this is Dean and Sam Winchester. Boys, this is Cal."
He shook their hands and she noticed the way Cal winced when Dean shook his hand and she narrowed her eyes at him.
"The Hunters?" He asked and she nodded. He chuckled at her, shaking his head. "Should've known you'd end up with The Winchesters at some point." She shrugged in response.
"How do you know Hermione?" Sam asked, also seeing the way Dean was glaring at him.
"I used to work for her, she was my boss," he grinned at Hermione. "I transferred from The American Ministry over to The British Ministry so I could train under her. I worked with her for three years before moving back here."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "I've got a wife and kid at home, she was always worried about my safety and it wasn't safe for the baby during her pregnancy, so I moved back here. Once my son was born, I decided I wanted to leave the dangerous lifestyle behind and find something more stable, turns out, I like it here, been working here since. Anyway, what can I help you with?"
"I need an anti-possession symbol tattooed onto me to prevent myself from being possessed by demons," she shrugged.
"And them?" He nodded to the brothers.
"I need them to get some Ancient Runes tattooed onto them, in order to give them a little more protection from the dangers of magic."
"And besides the regular magical ink, you want magic infused into each rune?"
"Yes, I do, for more protection."
"Alright, shall we start with you?" She nodded. "What's this symbol look like?"
In response Dean removed his leather jacket and pulled his t-shirt over his head, showing his own anti-possession tattoo. He felt smug when Hermione's eyes roamed his body, before her eyes snapped away from him to stare at the wall and he scowled.
"It looks like that," she said.
Cal nodded. "Okay, where do you it?" he said, pulling on gloves and setting up the equipment, readying the ink and needle, before dragging a stool over to the bench.
"Beside my right hip, I suppose, Mrs. Weasley won't be able to see it that way," she shrugged.
"It's best that way, I saw the way she looked at me when we met," he chuckled.
Hermione laid down and got herself comfortable, before pulling up her t-shirt and unbuttoning her jeans. She saw Dean glare at Sam and he sighed and turned his back to her.
She pointedly kept her eyes on the ceiling above her so she couldn't catch Dean's gaze, and the tattoo was complete within less than half an hour. After casting a healing spell and applying some cream to the area, Hermione hopped off the bench and buttoned her jeans, before stepping back and walking over to lean back against the wall.
"Alright, whose next?" Cal asked.
Dean made his way over to the bench and sat down, not bothering to put his t-shirt back on since he had decided to get the tattoo opposite his anti-possession tattoo, below his collar bone.
"What runes are we using?"
"Protection, luck, strength, light, energy, magic and success," she listed off. Cal looked at her blankly and she snorted, before pulling out a scrap of parchment with drawings of the runes on.
Cal set to work with the runes and she saw the look of surprise cross Dean's face, even if Hermione had said it was painless, he was still expecting to feel something, which he didn't. The runes were completed within twenty minutes and Cal cast a healing charm and applied the cream before sitting back.
"Give it a couple of days to completely heal and then you can infuse magic into the ink, I made sure to use ink that will absorb and detain your magic."
"Thanks, Cal," Hermione nodded and she stepped aside as Dean pulled his shirt back on and moved to stand beside her, whilst Sam made his way to the bench, pulling his sleeve up as he went so he could get the runes on his left forearm.
She could feel Dean's eyes staring at her and she pointedly ignored him. It was five minutes later when he sighed and grumbled under his breath.
"Can we talk?" He said quietly, moving closer to her.
"But we are talking," she said emotionlessly.
He growled in frustration and ran a hand through his hair. "Please can we talk?" He asked, almost desperately. For some reason her being angry with him hurt him.
Her eyes flittered up to his and she turned and walked out of the room, he followed her and she stopped in the corridor, with several more doors leading to other rooms, though it was quiet and empty.
"What is it, Dean?" She asked, her arms crossed and looking as though she was ready for an argument.
"I'm sorry."
"Excuse me?" She questioned in surprise. She had not been expecting that.
"I'm sorry for upsetting you," he confessed, his eyes holding her gaze and all but begging her to believe him and to forgive him. "I know nothing about your world or the creatures you deal with and I shouldn't have spoken the way I did. Until I've seen these creatures, I have no right to comment on them, nor to make fun of you or belittle your ability to deal with them. If you say these creatures are dangerous, then I believe you."
"Do you really mean that or are you just saying it because you think it's what I want to hear?" Her expression was guarded.
"I mean it," he promised.
"Dean," she sighed, unfolding her arms and pushing some hair out of her face. "My world is dangerous. It's my responsibility to protect those that are unable to protect themselves, and sometimes that means protecting them from themselves. It's my job to minimise the risk of casualties and to put others' lives before my own every time." That last comment didn't sit well with him; it made something within him curl in dread. "It's true that some creatures I deal with aren't dangerous, some may just bite or scratch, but others are incredibly dangerous it takes no effort at all to kill you. Basilisks kill by simply looking into your eyes, the mandrake plant can kill with its high pitched shriek, dementors suck out your soul by kissing you, even unicorns, the most pure creature to exist can kill you with its horn. There are hundreds, maybe even thousands of creatures out there, and I have to know how to defend and protect against each one of them, and every day new species are being discovered, species we didn't even know existed. You will see some amazing things when helping me with my cases, but you'll also see some truly horrendous things, things you never thought possible."
He nodded with his gaze still locked on hers, trying to show that he understood. "I won't speak so thoughtlessly again," he promised her, she scrutinized him for a moment and then she nodded in acceptance of his apology.
A huge weight was lifted off his shoulders and his heart stopped constricting and before she saw it coming, he had pulled her to him and wrapped her up in a tight hug, his nose buried in her hair and he placed a kiss to her forehead.
"I'm glad we were able to sort this out, I didn't want it to ruin the rest of the day, not after last night and this morning," he murmured, his head now buried against her neck.
"You think highly of yourself," she snorted.
"Well, I am the only man to make you purr," he practically purred himself.
Hermione rolled her eyes and she slapped at his arm before pulling away and walking back into the room, seeing that Cal was just finishing up with applying cream to Sam's new tattoo.
"All done?" She asked with a smile.
"All done," Cal confirmed. "I would ask if you needed any healing cream, but knowing you, you already have some."
"I do," she nodded.
"Just remember to wait a couple of days before infusing your magic into the runes, the ink will have had time to set and heal and it'll better absorb any magic you infuse into it."
"I will, thank you, Cal." She dug into her beaded bag and pulled out a pouch of galleons, handing them over to him.
He opened the pouch and peered inside, spluttering in surprise. "Boss, there's far too much here," he said, trying to hand it back to her but she stepped back from him.
"No, there isn't," she disagreed. "As you said, your shift was over an hour and a half ago, and you have a three year old at home, and a lovely wife that you should spoil rotten. When was the last time you spent the day together? With the amount I've given you, you can afford to take a few days off from work without having to worry about losing any pay," she shrugged.
She quickly hugged him and dragged Dean and Sam out of the room and out of the building before he could protest further, she received looks from several of the customers as she left out the door.
"What now?" Sam asked.
"Back to my apartment, I'm hungry and I promised Mimsy I would speak to the other house-elves, she's having trouble with them refusing orders."
"I thought they weren't slaves," Dean commented.
"My house-elves aren't slaves," she promised. "But there is a hierarchy involved within a household or business. Mimsy is the oldest and most experienced house-elf and for lack of a better term, she's the boss. The other house-elves are fairly young and since I rescued them, they haven't really had time to learn how to follow orders and requests from anyone but myself, seeing as I'm their Mistress and they are bound to me," she said and they raised their eyebrows at her. "I was forced to bind them to me in order to keep them alive, a house-elf without a Master or Mistress is a house-elf that will suffer and die. They're bound to me, but I don't treat them as my property. If they so wished -which they don't- all they have to do is ask that I release them from the bond and I will free them," she shrugged and then climbed into the back of the car.