CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE
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
One month later...
"Alright, boys, pack up, we've got a case," Hermione said, walking into Sam's motel room, where he and Dean were waiting for her to return from retrieving breakfast since it was her turn that morning.
"Why?" Sam asked. "We're supposed to be taking the weekend off for a little respite. We've finally cleared the back log of cases we had from taking time off in London."
"Respite's over," she replied, as Sam dramatically flopped onto his back on his bed with a groan and she rolled her eyes.
"Yours or ours?" Dean asked.
"Mine, Ricky arrived with a letter whilst I was on my way back from the diner, luckily no one saw him. I've sent him home for the time being."
"It's about time; we've had nothing but supernatural cases since we took out those dragons. I'm getting bored of ghosts and hauntings." She raised an eyebrow. "So, what do we have?"
"I'm not sure yet, I've just been informed there's been a remarkable amount of deaths in the last month, a total of twenty."
"What's remarkable about it?"
"All deaths took place in the victim's homes, there was no sign of forced entry, there was no sign of any presence but the home occupants and there's no sign of foul play. It's as if their hearts just stopped. Their deaths have all been filed under natural causes."
"And why does your government think it's magical?"
"They sent someone to check out one of the victim's body, and their magic spiked, but they're not sure what caused it."
"Which is where you come in," Dean said in understanding.
"Yes, unfortunately it means I'm going to have to complete twenty magical autopsies," she rubbed at her temples. "I can already feel the headache beginning to form," she groaned.
"Where are we headed?"
"Bloomington, Illinois," she replied.
"That's what? Three hundred miles?" Dean asked Sam.
Sam sighed. "Considering we're in Cincinnati, Indiana, I'd say it's about that, maybe a few miles less. Well, at least it's not too long a drive; we should be able to make it there for not long after lunch."
"Great, so we'll eat breakfast, get packed and then we're off."
~000~000~000~
"Do you know what it is yet?" Dean asked, peering over her shoulder and watching the many differently shaped and coloured lights dancing about as they hovered over the body of one of the victims.
They'd broken into the morgue again and with the help of Hermione's magic they'd done so without anyone even realising they were there. Sam was stood by the door, his eyes swerving between being the look out and watching what Hermione was doing, both brothers not admitting it, but they were curious about a magical autopsy, not realising they were done differently to muggle autopsies.
"I think so, I've only examined four bodies but the results have all been conclusive and I don't doubt they'd all be the same should I finish autopsying the rest of the bodies," she sighed.
"Well that's good because the coroner's coming back," Sam spoke.
Hermione quickly grabbed Dean's hand and Sam's arm when he was in reach and she spun on her heel, apparating them out of the room, just as the door opened.
~000~000~000~
"What did you find?" Sam asked, stepping into his motel room and moving over to his laptop, his intention to start doing some digging on the victims whilst Dean and Hermione followed him in.
"There's no point in searching for a motive or any possible connections between victims."
"Why not?" He frowned.
"There isn't one, these attacks are completely random. I believe I've found everything I need to in order to identify the creature responsible."
"And?" Dean asked.
Hermione moved to sit on the bed and she sighed.
"A magical autopsy is different to a muggle one in the sense that we can cast spells to determine cause of death, rather than having to cut open and dissect the body. Rather than performing blood tests, we have spells that can detect most poisonous substances and potions. But we also have a spell that allows for us to examine the last form of magic or magical signature that was used on the body, though this is only a new spell and it's still in its testing and development phase, at least for the magical signatures of witches and wizards. But anyway, I noticed that in the four victims I'd run tests on, the results were conclusive, they all showed high levels of the hormones that produce fear, and the significant stress on the heart caused it to stop."
"Are you saying the victims were literally frightened to death?" Sam frowned.
"Yes, I am."
"And what creature does that?" He asked, seeming to be thinking about the creatures he'd read about so far.
"A boggart."
"A what?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow.
"A boggart and they're not pleasant." Hermione grimaced. "I met my first boggart when I was thirteen. Boggarts show you your greatest fear, you can't hide it from them. They show you it and they make it so intense the fright kills you. Witches and wizards are able to defend against them, we have a better chance of surviving against muggles because we know what we're dealing with, we know that what we're being shown isn't real, and we can fight back, but muggles don't and can't, which is why they're dead. The boggart must've escaped or gotten lost. Boggarts like dark, cramped hiding spaces, like a wardrobe or a drawer."
"How do we kill it?" Sam asked.
"That's the thing, I've never actually heard of a boggart being killed, injured, yes, but not killed. But in order to capture it, we need to do the opposite of what it wants."
"Meaning?" Dean said.
"What's the opposite of fear?" They both appeared thoughtful. "Laughter. When we find it we need to show it that we're not afraid of it, laughter hurts them and since there's three of us, that gives us the advantage. Boggarts work by singling you out and finding your deepest, darkest fear, but if there's more than one person..."
"It confuses it, because it won't know who to focus on?" Sam guessed.
"That's right," Hermione nodded. "So, we find the boggart, we don't give into our fears, we laugh, I say the spell and trap it in a wooden chest, and then I drop it back off in the Wizarding World, where someone will take care of it. Sam, do you think you can try to map out the boggarts path, see if you can find its next destination? It seems to kill once every two days, making today that day."
"I'll try, just give me fifteen minutes."
~000~000~000~
"You're sure?" Hermione asked, looking up at the house that sat in front of her. There was nothing remarkable about it, it was the same as every other house on the street.
Sam nodded. "From what I could tell the deaths took place every two days, three blocks away from each other and on the last house on the street, which makes it this house."
Hermione looked around, seeing that it was now late evening and it had long since grown dark, the street was quiet with no more than two lights on for each house, and due to the late hour, the houses that had children were likely already in bed. Hermione tapped her wand against the Impala, placing a Notice-Me-Not Charm on it, then she did the same for herself, Dean and Sam.
"Invisibility Spell?" Dean questioned.
"It's not an Invis...Never mind," she sighed, realising there was no point in correcting him, she'd been doing so for months now and he still got it wrong, though she suspected he did it on purpose to wind her up.
"Do weapons work on this thing?"
"No and there's only one known spell that will work."
"Then I guess you're in charge, Glinda."
Before Hermione could speak, they heard a screaming coming from inside the house, followed by glass shattering. The three Winchesters wasted no time in rushing forward, Hermione waving her wand and the door burst open, slamming against the wall as they followed the sounds through the hallway, into the kitchen and down to the basement.
There, in the centre of the room, was a middle aged woman on her hands and knees, screaming and crying heartbrokenly and Hermione could see why. The boggart had transformed itself into two young dead bodies, of what she guessed were the woman's children.
Sam stepped forward, intending to get the woman out of the way, but the two children turned to him and quickly transfigured into a large, loud clown and he was rooted to the spot in fear. Despite the situation Dean snorted and Hermione smacked him on the arm and glared at him.
Dean sighed, before moving around Sam and heading to the woman, trying to keep out of eyesight of the boggart, only it didn't work. The clown that had been telling bad jokes, cackling and making balloon animals suddenly changed, until there were four figures, Sam, Bobby, Castiel and Hermione, all dead.
That wasn't what surprised him, what did surprise him was that the men were all on the floor and looked to have been mauled to death by hellhounds, and Hermione was tied to a chair, lifeless but with a prominent bump to her stomach, displaying that she wasn't long from giving birth to the baby she was obviously carrying. Their baby. He had the breath knocked out of him and he couldn't breathe.
Suddenly another figure appeared, Crowley. He grinned at Dean, showing him the large silver knife in his hand before he stepped in front of the lifeless Hermione, and blood began to cover the floor as he cut away at her. And then there was a cry, and Crowley turned around to show Dean the little boy he had in his hands. His little boy who he'd cut out of Hermione's womb. And then Crowley was walking away, leaving him with his dead brother, surrogate father, best friend and wife, and stealing the only thing he had left of Hermione.
Dean hadn't realised he was crying until he felt hands on his shoulders, tugging him out of the way of the boggart. He felt his chest restricting and his lungs burned as he tried to force himself to breathe, realising that none of it was real. It was all a show, and if it hadn't been for someone pulling him back, he knew he would've died constricted by the fear.
He wiped at his eyes, refusing to let anyone see him cry, but it was too late as both Hermione and Sam had seen and they were both horrified by what they'd witnessed.
Dean's eyes landed on Hermione, seeing that she was stood in front of the boggart with her wand pointed and her arm shaking, looking as though she were having a mental battle with herself, and now that he could see her biggest fear he knew she was, just as he had been.
There was himself, stood before Hermione and he had another Hermione wrapped up in his arms, his hands resting on her growing stomach, signalling that she was pregnant. They were happy, and then suddenly blood pooled from Hermione, she was haemorrhaging. She lost the baby, she'd miscarried.
The image changed, showing a similar depiction of the last one, only this time they were wearing different clothes and they looked a little older. They looked happy, until blood began to pool, Hermione was haemorrhaging and she miscarried the baby. This showed itself a further three times, before it changed imagery entirely.
This one showed an older Dean wrapped around a heavily pregnant woman that certainly wasn't Hermione. This woman was blonde, with blue eyes, tanned skin and long legs.
"You're a failure, Hermione. You couldn't even give me a baby. Just one. I hate pie," fake Dean said and he felt horror fill him.
He could see from where he stood Hermione's form shaking as silent sobs wracked her body, he could only imagine what she was feeling and it was going to take him months to undo the damage the boggart had done to her psyche. If there was a way to kill the bastard for hurting Hermione, he'd find it.
Her arm was lowering, she was giving in to her fear, he couldn't allow her to give up; she was stronger than that.
"I love pie!" Dean said loudly.
Hermione's eyes snapped to him and he felt his chest tighten at seeing her puffy read eyes and her tears falling down her face. He felt a tear of his own fall down his cheek, not even realising that they hadn't stopped from his time witnessing his own biggest fear. He hadn't even known that was it!
"I love pie!" He repeated, his gaze locked on hers.
Sam was stood somewhat between the two of them, still looking horrified by what he'd witnessed; it put his fear of clowns to shame.
"I love pie," she whispered, before a steely look of determination entered her eyes and she took a breath and turned back to the boggart. "Riddikulus!" she called.
Before their eyes, fake Dean transformed into a bad impression of Patrick Swayze, as he strutted over to the Impala and lovingly ran his hand over the car.
"Nobody puts baby in the corner," fake Dean cooed.
Dean blinked, Sam burst out laughing, falling back into the wall for support and Hermione's sniffles had turned into sniggers. Dean, despite being shocked, felt amusement bubble in him at what she'd done. He couldn't deny she had style.
"That's brilliant!" Sam laughed loudly, bringing his hands up to his ribs as if they hurt from laughing.
Hermione's sniggers turned into laughter, until she was crying for an entirely different reason.
"Riddikulus!" She called for the final time, and the boggart flew across the room until it landed in the empty wooden trunk she'd pulled out of her pocket. She cast Locking Charms on the trunk before shrinking it down and placing it back in her pocket.
Dean was across the room in seconds, taking her in his arms and hugging her to him tightly, whilst Sam went to the cowering woman in the corner of the room, trying to convince her that she was safe.
"It wasn't real," Dean muttered, feeling his own tears from what he'd witnessed beginning to resurface at even thinking about what he'd been shown.
"None of it was," she added for his benefit.
"I love pie," he said.
"I love pie, too."
"And I'd never leave you. I'd never choose someone else over you. You're the only one. And we both know we can have children, you've gotten confirmation from the hospital and Cas, we just have to wait."
She sighed, fighting back her tears. "And I'd never left Crowley do that. I'd never let him anywhere near our children, hypothetical and not. He'd be dead before even laying his eyes on them."
"Guys, I'm really sorry to interrupt," Sam spoke, genuinely sounding apologetic, knowing they needed to talk after what they'd just witnessed. "But I could use a little help here," he gestured to the middle aged woman, who was now rocking back and forth and muttering to herself.
"I'll take care of it," Hermione said, pulling back from Dean and moving until she kneeled down in front of the woman.
Hermione dove into her mind, quickly altering her memories, removing the memories and the knowledge of the presence of Hermione, Dean and Sam, and what she'd seen regarding the boggart and magic, and also convincing the woman that it was just a nightmare.
She pulled back, happy with her work and the woman would come back to herself in a few minutes so they quickly left the house.
"I need to head to The American Ministry and drop this off and fill out the paperwork, I'll be back as soon as I can but don't wait up," she said, giving them a small smile before turning and apparating, leaving them alone.
~000~000~000~
"What are you still doing up?" Hermione questioned, after landing in her room from her return from The American Ministry.
Dean shrugged. "Couldn't sleep," he muttered.
Hermione sighed before putting her wand on the bedside table, stripping out of her clothes and down to her underwear, leaving them in a mess on the floor; she'd clean it up in the morning.
She climbed into bed and Dean wasted no time in pulling her into him, lifting his hand and tugging her hair out of the bun she'd put it in whilst at The Ministry and his hand quickly delved into her hair, the curls tangling around his fingers as he massaged her scalp, knowing that it made her feel sleepy.
"I love pie, and everything I said to you at the house I meant," he said quietly.
"And everything I said I meant too, I love pie," she replied.
"You're not a failure. When our soon to be baby decides it's time for us to stop waiting, then it'll happen. Just remember, Sweetheart, we've only actively been trying for three months and you've only had two cycles since then. We'll have our baby sooner or later. I promise."
They fell silent and when Hermione was on the very edge of falling asleep, she spoke.
"So, do you want to go back to boring ghosts and hauntings yet?"
He snorted. "No, though I do have a new found appreciation for you and the scary shit you deal with," he fed her words back to her from all those months ago, and she felt a smile tug at her mouth.