CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
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
She found herself being pushed up against the car and Dean's mouth descended on hers, his arms wrapped around her tightly and she was hiked off the ground, until her legs wrapped around him and he sat her on the hood of the car. His hands roamed her body, slipping under her t-shirt to tickle at her skin and massage her breasts over the fabric of her lace bra.
She moaned into his mouth and gripped at his hair, tugging until he groaned and bucked into her, the hardened length restrained in his jeans pressing against her clothed centre. She gasped, biting down on his lip, drawing blood and tearing a growl from deep within his chest that reverberated through her and sent shivers down her spine, and erecting goose bumps on her skin.
She pulled her mouth from his when the need for oxygen became too great, refusing to lose contact with her, his lips moved across her cheek, down her jaw until he reached her neck and he peppered her skin with nips and licks.
The need within him was getting too strong to handle, after not being with her for a week, he had been starting to feel withdrawals, and he honestly believed that just like when they were away from each other for long periods of time they became ill, the same would happen if they went just as long without sex.
He remembered Hermione's words from the other day when he brought up the same topic.
"We don't have sex as often as we do because we're a newly married couple that's completely and utterly in love," she rolled her eyes. "We do it because of our bond. When we're away from each other, we become ill because we need the touch and the presence of the other. When we're separated for more than a few hours, we feel the need to be in physical contact to recharge the bond between us, to keep it healthy and alive. It's the same with sex, our for lack of a better term, sex addiction with each other, is a result of the bond. It recharges the bond, it connects us together, it allows us to understand each other, to strength our bond and it reminds our souls that we're still together and that we're healthy."
He was brought back to the present when Hermione's hands slipped under his clothes and scraped at his scarred back – which had been blemish free until her met her, not that he complained. He pulled back from her, breathing heavily and staring at her with dark, lustful eyes. She had her eyes closed, her head tilted back slightly as the breeze blew her hair around her, and her mouth was parted slightly as she bit her lip. She was beautiful.
She opened her eyes and she gave a breathless moan upon seeing the look in his eyes.
"We can't," she said, shaking her head, but she didn't push him away from her.
Dean's mouth twitched, his hands moving to her hips, his fingers skimming her skin softly, slowly, sending shivers through her. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, she gripped at his shoulders, her nails biting into him and he chuckled huskily, his breathing tickling her.
They both knew she was feeling the withdrawal just as much as he had been, only she hid it a lot better than he did. But with her menstrual cycle finished for the month, her hormones going haywire at the sinful things he was whispering to her, and going a week without being intimate with Dean, it had finally gotten to her and it broke her down. She gave in.
"A car could come by any minute," she said quietly.
"Then I guess we'll have to be quick, won't we?" He replied, kissing her weak spot behind her ear.
She gasped, her nails dug into him harder and when he pulled back to look at her, he saw her eyes changing until they were feline-like. He knew he had her at that point. He crashed his mouth back to hers, pulled her off the car and into him. She pulled back from him, intending to climb into the car, but he kept a hold of her.
"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, his eyes dark and heated and his voice husky.
"In the car," she replied confused.
He smirked at her, before pulling her close, spinning her around until her back was to him and he placed her hands against the hood of the car. He held her hips and stepped up against her, so she was forced to lean forward and hold her weight up on her hands. He nibbled at her shoulder and ground her arse against him.
"No," he muttered. "I've had you in the car, now, I'm going to have you on it."
"There is not a chance in..." She trailed off, a breathless moan leaving her as one of his hands moved from her hip and slipped down the front of her jeans and into her underwear, feeling her wetness as he slipped two fingers into her entrance and the palm of his hand rubbed against her nub with his movements.
"You were saying?" He breathed against her ear, placing kisses and nips to her skin.
"Fuck it," she moaned, moving her hips against him, trying to find that spot that made her see stars.
He pulled his hand back and she groaned. Normally he would've made it his mission to tease her, to draw it out, to watch her come undone due to his actions, but he was impatient. He could feel the longing inside of him, he hadn't been with her for a week and it was slowly driving him insane.
"Bend over a bit," he instructed.
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this," she grumbled, but she complied, even as he pulled her hips out and unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans. "I hate you," she muttered.
He chuckled. "No, you don't," he said, as she heard him unzipping his own jeans.
"Yes, I do."
"No, you don't."
"Yes, I..." She trailed off with a gasp, when both their underwear and jeans were pulled down far enough, and he pushed himself into her without warning. "Don't, I don't hate you," she sighed, her hands clenching into fists as she supported herself on her hands, leaning over the hood of the car slightly.
He gripped her hips tightly in his hands as he breathed deeply, trying to gain control of himself.
"I've missed this," he mumbled, placing kisses to her neck and shoulder.
"It's only been a week."
"Every minute that I'm not inside you is torture."
"You're a perv," she moaned, as he pulled back his hips and began moving inside of her, angling his hips so that he'd hit the spot inside of her he knew was her undoing.
"Only for you," he grumbled.
"Let's keep it that way."
"As if I have eyes for anyone but you," he chuckled.
He snaked his hand around her stomach until he reached the apex of her thighs and he found her nub. Her back bowed, her head fell forward and her walls started fluttering, and he knew he had her. With one thrust he sent her over the edge and the purr that he hadn't heard in what felt like years, rung in his ears.
He stilled, gritting his teeth and summoning every ounce of control so he wouldn't follow her in finding relief. He was not finished with her yet. Their journey could wait, he couldn't.
He made a noise of surprise when she pushed him away from her and turned to face him. Her feline eyes were shining brightly, her skin flushed pink and her chest rose and fell as she worked to get her breathing back under control. Before he could question her actions, she grabbed his arm and pulled him to the driver's side door. She gestured for him to get in and he did so with a raised eyebrow, wondering what she was up to.
He got his answer when she rearranged her clothing so she could easily climb in after him, straddle his lap and she took him in her hand and sunk back down on to him. They both groaned and clung to each other. It was a tight fit, seeing as Hermione's back was pressed against the steering wheel, and the steering wheel pushed her forward and into Dean, but neither of them complained, as she started moving over him, this time she was the one controlling the pace and movements.
"You know, I'm never going to be able to drive without thinking about this," he said against her ear.
She squeezed his shoulders tightly, before releasing them and moving her hands to grip the back of the seat behind him, pulling herself further against him and changing the angle of her body slightly.
"Every time I get in the car, I'm going to get a hard on and I'm not going to be able to think about anything else but you."
She moaned. He gripped at her hips, pulling her down into his thrusts, and when a loud purr left her, her eyes locked onto his and her hands flew to his shoulders, her claws digging in to his skin through the material of his shirt and leather jacket, he knew he couldn't hold back this time and he spilled inside of her.
She slumped forward, and they held each other tightly as they gained control of their senses and breathing. Hermione leaned back from him and her heart fluttered when Dean's hand slipped beneath her t-shirt and moved to rest against her stomach, just below her belly button and his eyes fell downcast.
"Not yet," she said softly, running her hands through his hair and lightly scratching his scalp; she'd learned since being with him that it was a stress reliever for him, it calmed him.
"This could be the one," he told her, he sounded hopeful.
"It's not likely. I'm most fertile ten to twelve days before my period is due, and five days after. My cycle only ended last night, and seeing as it was my first cycle in eight years, it'll take a few months for it to regulate and for me to know when I'm next due, so I can know if I'm late or not."
"I don't care how long it takes, I'm putting a baby in you if it's the last thing I do."
"It better not be," she warned. "There's not a chance in hell I'm raising our baby by myself. If it's a boy that has your eyes, I'm screwed. If it's a girl that has your smile, I'm screwed. If it's both, I'm screwed. So basically, I'm screwed and if anything happens to you, I'm dragging you back to the land of the living so I can kill you myself."
He chuckled, his eyes alight with mischief. "Well, I don't mind screwing you."
She rolled her eyes. "That is the worst one yet, and there's been some corkers."
She climbed off him and out of the car, righting her clothing and she picked up her wand that had fallen to the floor, casting Cleaning Charms over the both of them whilst Dean fastened himself up.
She walked around to the passenger's side and climbed in the car, getting herself comfortable and finding herself in the same position before they had been pulled over. Hermione with her back pressed against the door and with her feet resting in Dean's lap, only this time she took off her boots.
"Let's go, we need to get to Allentown to investigate and then we need to get back to Sam, before he starts thinking we're holed up somewhere trying for a baby."
"That's not a bad idea," Dean commented.
"Drive," Hermione pointed to the road.
Dean chuckled before turning on the ignition, just as a car drove past. They looked at each and burst out laughing.
"Well, that could've been awkward," Hermione said through her laughter.
"Yeah, I'd hate to have to kill the man that saw you half naked, especially since I no longer have a criminal record."
"That's not funny," she rolled her eyes.
"It wasn't meant to be."
She eyed him. "And you say I'm possessive," she muttered.
"You killed a lamia for kissing me," he replied.
"Well you killed a nest of vampires, and from what Sam told me, you were particularly vicious because their victims were similar to my appearance."
"Well you killed that succubus for coming onto me."
"And you killed that demon for trying to get into my pants."
"Yeah, but you killed the siren for setting her sights on me."
"And you broke a guy's nose for squeezing my arse."
"Yeah, but..."
Hermione sighed. "We're both as bad as each other, let's leave it at that. Now, drive, I'm hungry."
"Why am I not surprised?" He grumbled, and she smacked him on the arm.
"Drive before I do; and I can't guarantee Baby will survive the wreckage."
"Nicely played, Mrs. Winchester," he smirked.
"Don't you forget, I know you better than you think, I know what leverage to use over you."
"And that is?"
"Easy, Baby and sex."
He snorted. "Like you could resist me," he said smugly.
"I did for a week."
"But it tortured you as much as it did me." He laughed at her scowl, knowing he had her.
~000~000~000~
"He'll be fine, Glinda," Dean said, as they were five minutes out from the motel they were staying at. After visiting Allentown, they had now returned to Lewistown and were returning to the motel to compare their findings with Sam.
"He said he'd call. He hasn't."
"He likely got side tracked," Dean shrugged. "He knows what he's doing."
"He hasn't answered any of our calls or texts either," she ignored his previous words.
"He does that sometimes, particularly when he's sleeping, he probably just fell asleep at his laptop, he does it all the time."
"I'm worried about him," she ignored him once again.
"He's fine," Dean rolled his eyes.
"I've got a bad feeling about this; we should've never split up."
"He can take care of himself," Dean replied, and he thanked God when they pulled into a parking space outside their motel.
Before he could blink, Hermione was gone from beside him and out of the car, running to their motel room which they shared with Sam. She hadn't even bothered to put her shoes back on, she just ran across the parking lot in her frilly pink ankle socks.
He rolled his eyes, grabbed her boots and followed after her at a regular pace. By the time he reached the room, Hermione was stood in the centre of it, her eyes wide, her wand in her hand and a panicked look on her face, and Dean could see why.
He looked around the room, his eyes not missing the over turned furniture, the broken glass on the ground, nor Sam's phone, knife and both guns. And there was an alarming amount of blood on the off colour carpet.