CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
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: 4
Hermione landed in the alley way of the bar she had tracked Dean to. Her plan had been to apparate to her apartment after making several apparition jumps, but she couldn't allow herself to leave without seeing Dean one last time, without at least saying goodbye to him, and so she easily tracked him to the bar that was several miles away from Bobby's.
She wiped away her tears, taking a deep breath and pulled out a cardigan from her beaded bag to fend off the chill. She pulled it around herself tightly and then entered through the doors, and much to her annoyance, it was a seedy looking bar. They had them everywhere!
Her eyes landed on Dean almost immediately and she felt nausea over take her when she saw the leggy blonde sat at the bar beside him, all but throwing herself at him and Dean didn't appear to be objecting to her behaviour; he was smiling at her.
She held back the tears; she would not allow herself to cry in front of him, not when he was the cause of her tears. She took a deep breath and approached him, stopping when she was behind them.
"There you are, I've been looking all over for you, husband."
~000~000~000~
Dean couldn't explain why he had left in the way he had. He just knew he needed to get out of there, out of the confinement of the room and the stuffy air. He needed time to be alone. He needed time to process everything that had been revealed by Castiel.
As so, before he realised it, he had left the house, jumped in the Impala and drove until he came to the first bar he found. He took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer, blocking out the sounds of the music faintly playing, of the patrons laughing and playing pool, and the chatter that surrounded him.
In all honesty, Hermione being part Angel wasn't that surprising to him, well, it was, but to him it made sense. She didn't have the capabilities he knew Angels had, but he had been secretly referring to her as his Angel for a while now. She had changed him, she had saved his life in more ways than one. She gave him a reason to continue fighting the good fight, to continue living and to get up and out of bed in the morning.
She brought him laughter and light, compassion and life. Peace and quiet. Hope. She gave him hope that maybe he wouldn't be alone forever. That when he was ready he could have a family. And although it was unlikely he would be able to give up being a Hunter, even if he did have children, he knew that with help and support he could be the father his never was. But he also knew that he only wanted that with Hermione.
Yes, the marriage thing had come as a shock, especially to find out they had been married for weeks without them even knowing. He also thought he'd die before he had a chance to marry, and to be honest, he never thought he'd find someone that kept his attention long enough.
He had been evaluating his feelings for Hermione for weeks, and he knew there was no denying it. He loved her. He loved her to the point where she consumed his every thought. To the point where he knew he would never be the same without her. She made him better, stronger, wiser, and more understanding. He craved to hear her laughter, her taunts and teasing, and especially the sounds he could pull from her when he was ravishing her.
Fuck! He ran his hands through his hair, fighting off those thoughts and catching sight of the clock, seeing that he'd been gone for nearly two hours and he already missed her. He wondered what she thought of his leaving. Would she be hurt? Upset? He shook his head. No, Hermione was a logical person; she would understand that he just needed time to process the revelations of the evening. She would be waiting for him to return, he just knew it.
So, to conclude, he was in love with his girlfriend who was actually his unwitting wife, who also happened to be a kick-ass and powerful witch, that was part Angel, and his soul's perfect match. And without her he would be nothing but the old Dean Winchester, the Dean Winchester before meeting Hermione, and he never wanted to return to who he once was. He hated that person. So blinded by prejudice, by what he'd been taught. So numb and tired. The man that slept with a different woman at every chance he got and the man that drank until he passed out.
He looked down at the beer in his hand and with a small smile he realised it was the first one he had purchased upon arriving a couple of hours ago, and he had barely drank from it.
Yes, she truly was an Angel. His Angel.
"Hey, there, handsome," a voice cooed and he turned his head, seeing the blonde that had taken the seat next to him.
She was pretty Dean admitted, but she was nowhere near Hermione's beauty. This woman had makeup caked on her face, a too tight pink dress that showed off her figure in an unflattering way and heels he didn't know how she managed to walk in without killing herself. Her straightened blonde hair fell down to her shoulders and her blue eyes were surrounded by dark lashes. This was the type of woman that would've easily attracted him before, but now he had Hermione.
Hermione that rarely wore makeup and even when she did, it was such a small amount that it was barely noticeable. Hermione's hair that was always wild and tangled in ringlets, hair that he liked to run his hands through. And her chocolate brown eyes that he could easily drown in. She wore what made her comfortable, not what she thought others would want to see. She didn't care what others thought of her. She was the epitome of a natural beauty, even with her scars, which to him only made her more irresistible. And her petite frame and feminine curves fit against him perfectly and he could wrap himself around her to the point where she couldn't breathe and she wouldn't complain, just seek the warmth of his body like the little kitten she could be.
She was unpredictable and he liked that about her as it kept him on his toes. She could be a cute little kitten one moment and in the next a lioness that went straight for the kill. She didn't simper or flutter her eyelashes, she was too good for that. She was strong and prideful, and when she stepped into the room, she gave off an aura of authority and power, and sometimes even he didn't want to mess with her.
She saw so different from the women he usually went for, but she was perfect for him.
"You okay?"
Dean shook his head, shaking off his thoughts and he gave the woman a smile, one that he hoped meant he was trying to be polite and she should leave him alone.
"I'm Sarah."
She didn't get the message.
"Dean," he replied, taking a swig of his beer and hoping she would leave him alone.
She didn't.
"So, Dean, what brings you here tonight? Looking for some fun?" She asked, giving him a coy smile.
"Just needed some time to think," he replied.
"Well, I can help take your mind off things, if you'd like," she fluttered her eyelashes and leaned closer to him. He leaned back.
He was about to reply when he heard her voice.
"There you are, I've been looking all over for you, husband."
Husband. His insides clenched at that word. It was possessive. It was final. It was a way of telling people that he was hers without having to go into any detail about the circumstances. He was her husband and she was his wife. He surprisingly found himself liking the titles.
He turned his head, a smile ready on his face but it dropped immediately when he saw that she had obviously been crying. Her eyes were puffy and red, she had tear stains on her cheeks and she appeared to be holding back tears as her eyes were watering and her lashes were wet.
"Hermione? Is everything alright?" He asked with a frown, reaching out for her.
She took a step back and appeared surprised by his words, but her attention went back to the blonde next to him, and she was glaring daggers at her.
"Husband? I don't see a ring," the blonde replied.
She stood up and with the heels she was taller than Hermione, but that didn't deter his Little Witch, if anything, her eyes narrowed further and she stood up taller, her hand twitching as though she were about to reach for her wand.
"We decided against rings, tattoos are more permanent, see?" Hermione replied, lifting her hand and the golden ink reflected in the lights of the room.
Dean found himself staring at the golden band of runes wrapped around her finger, he actually liked them.
"I can't understand why he'd want to be with you," the blonde said with a cruel smile, looking Hermione up and down.
"Yes, that thought runs through my mind every day," she whispered. Her sad eyes locked onto his and panic set in at her next words.
"Good bye, Dean," she said quietly, before turning and walking away, he stood there in surprise, her words sounded final, as if she were never coming back.
"Good, she's gone, now how about we..."
"No," he cut her off instantly. "I've seen Hermione in sweatpants, covered in mud and covered in slime, and she was still beautiful. You don't come close to her, and I suggest you get rid of that dress, it's a hideous colour on you."
He left her stood at the bar, gaping and spluttering as he went after Hermione.
"Hermione!" He yelled, she was on the other side of the parking lot and she turned to face him.
He started walking towards her, but suddenly there was a man stood behind her. A hand clamped over her mouth and she was pulled back into the body of her captor.
His eyes widened and panicked filled him, especially when he saw Hermione struggling against the hold of the arms around her, her screams muffled by the hand over her mouth.
"Hello, Dean, it's been a while."
"I swear, Crowley, if you hurt her, I'll..."
"See you later," he smirked, and in the blink of an eye they were both gone.
The King of Hell had kidnapped his Angel.