CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
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: 6
Dean missed Hermione. It was as simple as that. He missed her sleeping in his arms. He missed her seeking out his warmth. He missed her wild hair. He missed her smell of apples and caramel. He missed her laughter and her wittiness. He missed listening to her explain about the magical creatures she dealt with and he missed teaching her about the supernatural. He missed her playful bickering with Sam and her creative taunts and insults, which were usually aimed at him.
For the first few days, he had been physically fine. His sleeping had suffered, meaning he barely got any and it seemed that his nightmares had gotten worse since Hermione had left and they usually left him awake or only allowed him a few hours of sleep at best. His mood had most definitely changed of which Sam had noticed. Dean was...Sullen, grumpy, exhausted. He hadn't smiled or laughed since Hermione left, and he put all of his effort into working cases to distract him. And Sam was forced to watch Dean's mood and health spiral out of control.
Aside from the lack of sleep, Dean had a longing deep inside of him and it grew stronger by the day. He longed to be in Hermione's presence. He longed for Hermione to be in his arms. He longed to be surrounded by her smell. He longed to feel her raised scars and soft curves under his fingers as she slept. And it was easy enough to push aside when he was busy working a case, but then he'd go back to his shared motel room with Sam and he'd be reminded of his feelings as he stared at the ceiling, listening to Sam's snores and thinking about nothing but Hermione. Without her, he felt lonely, he felt cold and empty.
On the fifth day of her absence came the headaches. They were barely noticeable at first, but they grow stronger as time went on and nothing eased the pain, not pain killers and certainly not alcohol which seemed to make it worse. It was making his already bad mood worse. He was irritable and Sam felt sorry for those they were hunting, Dean had been particularly viscous when they had taken out the succubus and even Dean could admit that.
Then came the dizzy spells and Dean had lost count of the amount of times he'd almost fainted when on the job and it was a hindrance; it had caused Sam to get injured when they took out a nest of three vampires. Then the aches and pains in his body made themselves known. He felt as though he not only had a monstrous hangover, but as though he'd gone several rounds with a pissed werewolf and been thrown off a building. And to make it worse, there was a dull ache in his chest where his heart was, and he often found himself rubbing the area as if that would ease the pain, but it never did.
After that the nausea showed up and Dean had finally lost his cool. He had almost thrown up when they'd been at the diner and the pie he'd ordered was placed in front of him. He almost lost his lunch when they entered the rather foul smelling motel room they were staying in and the smell of his cheeseburger had knocked him on his arse.
He hadn't been the same since Hermione left. He knew it and Sam definitely knew it, since he was always on the end of Dean's mood swings, and Dean thought that Sam was a saint, because if the roles were reversed he most certainly would've put a bullet in him by this point.
His appearance was the most alarming of changes. He hadn't lost weight since Sam forced him to eat regardless of the nausea, but you could tell he wasn't sleeping. He was exhausted and it showed in the bruises under his eyes. His hair was often stood out at odd angles since he couldn't stop himself from running his hands through it in frustration, and his skin was a sickly colour.
On the tenth day of Hermione's absence, Sam had put his foot down and knowing something wasn't right, he had informed Bobby that they were passing the case they were set to work over to Ellen and Jo, and they were heading to his salvage yard.
Sam had not allowed Dean to drive in his state, being afraid that it would cost the both of them their lives. And so during the entire journey to Bobby's, Dean had laid on the back seat, using the pillow that Hermione had left in the car for when she took naps, nestling his head and he had found a jumper belonging to Hermione which she had left in the car, and he held it close to him, being surrounded by her scent, which lulled him into a fitful sleep.
Sam being too worried for his brother's rapidly deteriorating health had driven through the night, only stopping for bathroom breaks and food, and once for a few hours so he could get some sleep. They arrived at Bobby's midday the next morning and Dean was barely able to walk. He had been deposited on the couch in the living room and left as Sam and Bobby scoured the library for anything that may be of help to them, leaving Dean with Hermione's pillow and jumper.
It was the twelfth day of Hermione's absence that was the most frightening, as Sam and Bobby woke to the sight of Dean groaning in his sleep, his hands gripping at the blanket that covered him. His clothing was sweat soaked and stuck to his frame and sweat was beading down his forehead.
They both looked at each at a loss of what to do, the research they had been doing was useless, especially since they didn't have a starting point or reference to pinpoint what to look for. All Sam knew was that it had begun when Hermione left, and he wondered if it had anything to do with her and their strange relationship.
Dean started mumbling in his sleep and they approached him, straining their hearing to decipher his words.
"Hermione. Hermione. Hermione," he mumbled with a pained groan.
Their eyes widened. So it was connected to Hermione?
"Cas! We've got a problem!" Sam called, watching his brother as he writhed on the couch. In retrospect, they probably should've called him a long time ago, but the thought had slipped their minds.
"Sam?" The Angel questioned as he appeared in the door way, his head tilted to the side.
"Dean," was all he said and Castiel turned his attention to Dean, a frown appearing on his face as he approached him.
"Strange," he muttered, before lifting a hand and pressing it against Dean's chest, his frown deepened and neither Sam nor Bobby like the look he wore on his face.
He suddenly looked up, his eyes looking to the ceiling and a look of concentration filled his features and he titled his head to the side, as if he was listening to something.
"I will be back."
"But..." Sam didn't get chance to finish his words as the Angel disappeared, and the two men were left alone, looking down at the increasingly worsening Dean.
~000~000~000~
It had been ten days since Hermione had returned to England and those ten days had been very busy. The port key she had taken with Harry took them straight through the wards of Malfoy Manor, Tipsy the house-elf escorted Hermione straight to Luna's rooms and the moment she entered, her ears were assaulted with screams and her eyes were met with the sight of Draco passed out on the ground, and Luna giving birth.
She had winced when Luna screamed her name and quickly rushed over to her bedside, allowing her fingers to be broken as she held Luna's hand. Hermione was used to it by this point, having been present at Ginny's labours with James, Albus and Lily, and Ginny had broken her fingers, too, each and every time.
When the wails of the newborn met her ears and he was cleaned up and passed to Luna, Hermione sat on the side of the bed with her friend, both cooing at the blue bundle in Luna's arms. And much to Hermione's amusement, he was a spitting double of Draco, with the signature Malfoy blonde hair.
Once Draco had come around and held his newborn son, Luna and Draco sprung the news that Scorpios Malfoy was to be her Godson. She, of course, accepted through tears of joy, and once she had bear hugged Draco, cuddled with Scorpios and gently hugged Luna, she left The Malfoys alone, and returned to her apartment in London, which admittedly, she had neglected and therefore needed a few Cleaning Charms to be passed over it.
And every day since her return, she tried her best to visit with The Malfoys, Potters and each of The Weasley families, whilst also starting her duties at work early, helping to train the new recruits, not only for her department, but for Harry's too, since it was more of a general training period, and once the recruits had passed their final auror exams, they would get the choice of which department they wanted to work in and they would go through specialised training afterwards.
And it was during these ten days that she realised how much she missed both Sam and Dean. She missed their presence. She missed their bickering. She missed their admittedly amusing and creative insults and arguments. She missed their time on the road, since it was never boring and they always found something to keep them entertained. She missed not being able to converse with Sam about anything and everything. She missed learning about the supernatural and teaching them about the Wizarding World. And most importantly, she missed Dean.
There was a longing inside of her that as each day away from him went by, it got stronger and stronger, to the point where it was physically making her sick. The first few days had been fine, she had missed them, but she had work to keep her busy and to keep her distracted.
It was when she came back to her empty apartment that she truly missed Dean. She missed not being able to sleep beside him, she missed not being able to snuggle into his warmth, she missed his scent of motor oil, gun powder and soap. She missed his fingers trailing her skin and his body pressed to hers. She missed his breathing ticking her neck and disturbing her curls.
And since her return, she had not slept, her nightmares being unbearable as Dean wasn't there to keep them at bay. And during one particular exhausting day, she had resorted to taking a Dreamless Sleep Potion, which she hadn't done in over a month, not since the night she was almost raped by Bowman.
After the fifth day of being back in England, longing wasn't the only thing she felt. She had started getting headaches, at first they were barely noticeable and she could handle them, but they grew stronger and stronger, to the point where a Pain Potion no longer dulled the pain. And after the headaches started, she started having dizzy spells and she would often find herself walking down a corridor at The Ministry and she would have to sit down, whether it was in a chair or on the floor.
After the dizzy spells came the aches and pains. Her entire body ached, as if she'd gone ten rounds with an ogre, werewolf and troll and then been hit by the Knight Bus afterwards, and it wasn't just her body that ached, but her heart, too. She felt as though she were empty inside, lonely and cold, and she hated it.
After the aches came the nausea and it happened at the most random of times; walking past someone who was eating lunch at their desk or getting a whiff of someone's aftershave or perfume when they crossed in the halls. Even standing up too fast could result in making her feel sick and she would have to sit back down.
Harry had noticed and had asked her to visit the healer and to do a pregnancy test, since that was where all the signs were pointing. Hermione knew there was no possible way she was pregnant, but to appease Harry, she went to see her healer, Healer Susan Bones. Tests had been run, having knowing her medical history, and they all came back negative. No one knew what was wrong with Hermione, and according to the results, she was fine, but they could all see that couldn't be further from the truth.
She looked exhausted. She looked to have lost weight. She looked sickly with her pale skin and her usually wild ringlets were dull and lifeless. They just assumed she had the flu and she was run down. The healers may not know what was wrong with Hermione, but she believed it had something to do with Dean; it was the only explanation she could come up with, and it wasn't that farfetched as her relationship with Dean had been strange from the very start.
It was on the twelfth day of being in England when Hermione hadn't turned up for work, and Harry knowing Hermione and her love for her job, knew something wasn't right, and so he floo'd to her apartment, where he found her in her bedroom.
"Hermione!" He yelled in a panic and he rushed over to her beside.
Hermione lay in her bed, the covers pooled at her waist and her hands gripping the sheets as she let out quiet groans, her head moving from side to side on her pillow. He could see the way her t-shirt was glued to her and the sweat that covered her body. Her skin was a sickly grey colour, her eyes looked sunken and her cheek bones stuck out. Her hair looked greasy and mattered beyond belief as it stuck to her forehead and neck, and as Harry reached out to push her hair away from her forehead, he winced as the temperature of her skin hurt to touch. She was running a fever. A very high fever.
His panic levels were rising by the second. She hadn't opened her eyes or acknowledged his presence, making him believe she was still asleep.
Harry did the only thing he could think of doing, he summoned a cool damp cloth and pressed it to her forehead. Through her groans she had started to mutter and he lowered his head closer to her, trying to decipher her jumbled words.
"Dean. Dean. Dean." She repeated in a pained mumble and his eyes widened.
Why was she calling for Dean? Did he have something to do with her condition?
Harry's eyes swept her frail looking frame once more before he made a decision. The healers hadn't been able to find anything wrong with her. He had no other options left, he only hoped that what he was about to do would work.
"I don't know how this works, but she needs you. Castiel, Hermione needs you."
Harry waited and waited and his panic continued to grow when there was no answer, until suddenly there was a blinding light in the room and he was forced to shield his eyes. As the light dulled, Harry opened his eyes to see the Angel wings shadowed on the wall and then they were gone, leaving the trench coat wearing Angel.
"This is most strange," the Angel frowned.
"Strange? It's fucking terrifying," Harry said hysterical.
Castiel looked to him and blinked before moving over to Hermione and pressing his hand to Hermione's chest, his frown deepening.
"Interesting," he mumbled, seeming not to care that his hand was currently pressed in-between her breasts, as she writhed beneath his hold.
"Interesting? What's interesting?" Harry rushed out.
The Angel didn't answer, rather he bent down and picked Hermione up in his arms.
"Where are you taking her?"
"Where she needs to be," he answered.
"To Dean," Harry whispered in understanding. "I want answers," he spoke, and then the Angel was gone.