CHAPTER SEVENTY-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: 9
Two weeks later...
"Come on, Glinda, we have to speak to the victim's families whilst Sam heads to the morgue," Dean said.
He walked over to the bed and sat himself down on the edge beside Hermione, who was currently curled up in a ball and cocooned in the duvet.
"Can you handle it on your own today?" She replied, her voice muffled by the fact the duvet was pulled over her head.
"Why? You not feeling well?" He questioned.
He pulled the covers back from her head to see she had a pinched look on her face, and he pressed his hand against her forehead.
"You do feel a little warm," he muttered.
"I feel sick, my back hurts, I have cramps and I swear that shrimp I ate last night was dodgy." He frowned. "Food poising and my period all in one day, why does God hate me!" She cried, pulling the blanket over her head.
Dean thought she was being a little dramatic but he was smart enough to not voice his thoughts.
"Alright, get some rest and I'll bring you soup for lunch."
"And chocolate."
"I don't really think you should be eating chocolate if you feel sick."
"I want chocolate," she said, pulling the cover away from her face to scowl at him.
"Alright, I'll bring you chocolate," he held his hands up. "Sammy's waiting so I better go, but I'll be back soon, alright?" She nodded. "Good, get some rest." He kissed her forehead before leaving the room, hearing the lock on the door, meaning Hermione had locked it magically.
~000~000~000~
By the time he'd spoken to the victims' families and Sam had visited the morgue, it was after lunch and they headed to a diner to pick up some food, Dean getting Hermione soup, some chocolate and for extra bonus points, he got her a slice of chocolate fudge cake, knowing it was her favourite.
When they walked into the motel room the sound of Hermione throwing up in the bathroom met their ears. Sam's eyes widened and he turned to look at Dean.
"Oh My God! Is she pregnant!" He whispered.
"I wish," Dean muttered. "No, she's got food poisoning," he said, before making his way towards the bathroom as he heard the toilet flushing and the tap running in the sink.
He frowned when he saw Hermione, stood leaning against the wall and brushing her teeth. Her skin was sickly pale and he could see she'd sweated through her t-shirt, her hair stuck to her forehead and the back of her neck, and Dean knew if she hadn't have been leaning against the wall, she would be on the floor. She hadn't looked nearly as bad when he left a few hours ago.
"How are you feeling?" She glared at him weakly through the mirror. "I see," he spoke.
He walked over to her, lifting his hand to gauge her temperature and feeling that she was far hotter than she'd been that morning. She swayed on her feet and he caught her before she hit the floor.
"Sorry, went dizzy," she mumbled, still with her toothbrush in her mouth.
He frowned, before helping her to sit on the toilet so she couldn't fall. He closed the door behind him and made his way to the shower, switching it on and making sure the temperature was cool to help bring her temperature down. He then walked over to her and without speaking, he stripped her of her clothing and lifted her into the shower, seeing that she slumped down until she sat on the floor and she wrapped her arms around her knees and pulled them to her chest.
Dean balled up the dirty clothing to be put away and he stuck his head out of the bathroom, seeing Sam sat at the table and working on his laptop.
"Sammy, pass me a clean shirt, would you?"
"She not doing well?" Sam asked, moving from the table to dig through Dean's duffle bag, pulling out a clean t-shirt and throwing it to him.
"No, high temperature, vomiting, dizzy spells, she can't even stand without falling over." Sam winced in sympathy. Dean looked down at the t-shirt in his hand. "I need underwear, too."
Sam paled. "No, there's not a chance in hell I'm going to go digging through her stuff for underwear. There are some things in my life I don't need to see or know, and discovering the type of underwear my sister-in-law prefers is high on that list."
"Easy, lace and silk, and they always match her bras, too," Dean shrugged. Sam made a whining sound and covered his ears. "Relax, she's on her period, she's not going to want either of those." Sam's face paled further and he whined louder. "Just find her a pair of granny pants, would you?"
"No, I can't do it," he shook his head. "I can't bring myself to go anywhere near her bag at the moment, let alone her underwear."
"Oh for the love of..." Dean muttered. "Then come over here and stand watch."
"I don't think so," Sam said with wide eyes.
Dean rolled his eyes. "As if I'd let you anywhere near my naked wife, you idiot. Just stand by the door and listen for any shouts or falls."
Sam sighed, before begrudgingly moving over to the bathroom door, standing beside it whilst Dean rummaged through Hermione's beaded bag until he found a white cotton bra and black cotton underwear, which she reserved for wearing when on her period. He knew; she'd forced him to go shopping with her and it was not something he wanted to experience again.
He disappeared into the bathroom and Sam looked relieved to be able to get as far away from it as possible. Dean helped Hermione out of the shower and since she was too weak to cast any magic, he dried her with a towel, helping her to dress and piling her hair on top of her head and securing it in a bobble for her. He turned around and left the room, allowing Hermione to deal with the whole tampon situation by herself, since that was where he drew the line. There were some things in his life he didn't need to see his wife doing, and that was one of them.
After a few minutes he heard her weakly calling his name and he re-entered the bathroom, picking her up and carrying her back to their bed and covering her with the duvet.
"Will you get me Mina?" She asked tiredly.
"Mina?" Se questioned confused.
Rather than doing it himself, seeing as he had no idea what she was talking about, he retrieved her beaded bag and allowed her to find it herself. When she pulled her hand back, he was surprised to see an old looking, but well kept teddy bear. It was fairly big and a light brown colour with long fur, blue eyes and a pink nose. She tucked it under the blanket and held it against her like a small child would.
"You're twenty-seven and have a teddy bear?" Dean asked amused.
"Shut up," she mumbled. "I've had her since I was a baby; my dad bought her for me when he found out my mum was pregnant with a girl. I was spoilt as a child since I was my parents' miracle baby after they'd had so many miscarriages before me. I was a premature baby and I barely survived. So leave Mina alone, I only use her when I'm ill."
"Use her as much as you want, Sweetheart," Dean said softly.
"How are you feeling?" Sam asked from across the room.
"Shit," she mumbled.
"I brought you soup," Dean said, reaching out with his hand to see if her temperature had gone down from her shower. It had a little but not as much as he would've liked.
"I'm not hungry and I don't think I'll be able to keep it down anyway," she muttered.
"Alright, Glinda, you get some rest," he said, leaning over to kiss her forehead. She was asleep within minutes and he left her side to sit at the table with Sam, going over what they'd learned so far.
~000~000~000~
"Burn the body?"
"Can't, he was cremated," Sam replied.
"Awesome," Dean sighed. "So now we need to find what Peters has attached himself to."
"I think I already know what it is, I've been looking through some of the social medias of the victims, and I've noticed that on some of the photos they all have the same item."
Dean frowned and Sam turned the laptop around, allowing him to look through the photos Sam had left up.
"The flask," Dean said, noticing that in each of the victims' photos, the same flask was present.
"Exactly, these are college kids, the flask likely got passed around at parties and whoever had it last was killed."
"Which means we need to find the next victim before Peters kills them," Dean spoke.
"That'll be fun. Well, at least we've narrowed it down to the college."
"Yeah, that's only a couple of thousand students, it's a piece of cake," Dean said sarcastically.
"Dean?" He heard Hermione say.
He turned in his seat to see her half asleep and leaning up on her forearm to better see him.
"Yeah, Sweetheart?"
"I love pie," she said.
Dean frowned. "I love pie, too," he replied.
"Okay," she mumbled, before laying back down and falling quiet.
Sam started sniggering. "Great, she's sleep talking now, too."
"Leave her alone, Sammy, or I'll break your nose," Dean warned.
"You don't do this for me when I'm sick," he pointed out.
"You're not my wife."
Sam hummed. "What are you getting her for Christmas?"
"What?" Dean blinked.
"Christmas? You heard what she said, we're celebrating the holidays whether we like it or not. It's Christmas in a couple of weeks."
"We didn't celebrate Halloween or Thanksgiving," Dean said.
"She hates Halloween, it's the day Harry's parents were murdered, and she's British, they don't celebrate Thanksgiving," Sam shrugged. "Now stop avoiding the question, what are you getting her for Christmas?"
"I don't know, what are you getting her?"
"Not sure yet," Sam admitted.
"Well, shite, I can't get her the same as I did for her birthday. I was hoping you'd give me an idea."
"So was I. Anyway, back to the flask."
~000~000~000~
They'd heard news of there being several frat parties and had left Hermione –who was still sleeping- to search for the flask, they hadn't been lucky.
They returned to the motel for the night, Dean woke Hermione long enough for her to drink some water to keep her hydrated.
"Don't you have a potion for this?" He asked her, pushing some of her now dried curls that had broke free from their restraint away from her face.
"No," she handed him the glass. "Every chef and cook in the Wizarding World actually knows what they're doing, we don't get food poising from restaurants and the like." Dean snorted as she laid back down. "Dean?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you busy?"
"Why?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Can I have a cuddle?"
Dean felt his heart melt and she had an adorable little sulky pout on her face. Without thought he kicked off his shoes and shifted on the bed until he laid down behind her and he wrapped her up in his arms.
"Get some sleep, Sweetheart, you'll feel better in the morning."
"I doubt it," she muttered.
~000~000~000~
"Where's Hermione when you need her!" Sam yelled from his position hiding behind a couch as he dodged the flying knives, courtesy of the ghost trying to kill him.
"In bed with food poisoning!" Dean shouted back, from his place ducked down behind a turned over table. He flinched when an axe lodged itself in the wood, stopping millimetres from his face. "This bastard just threw a fucking axe at me! Where did he even get a fucking axe!"
"Shit!" He heard Sam yell, but he didn't dare move from behind the table to see what was happening. "Well the fucker just threw a chain saw at me!"
"I'm getting sick of this shit! Where's the flask!"
"I dropped it outside!"
"Of course you did," Dean muttered.
He peeked over the table, only to duck as a fire poker went straight over his head, getting stuck in the wall. His eyes searched the room, landing on a window and he winced at what he was about to do. It was a stupid idea, one he knew Hermione would scold him for when she was better.
"Sammy, cover me!"
He didn't wait for a response, he stood and ran for the window, barrelling straight through it with the glass shattering around him, and he slammed into the floor, rolling to a stop. Much to his luck, he landed with the flask in front of him. He picked it up and fished out his lighter from his pocket, and using the alcohol still inside the flask, he set it on fire and dropped it to the ground, watching with satisfaction as it burned.
A few minutes later Sam was beside him.
"I've never realised how much easier things are when Hermione's here," he frowned.
"I don't know how we survived before meeting her," Dean chuckled.
"Poorly," Sam nodded. "Have you noticed we don't get injured as much?"
"That shield of hers is handy," Dean agreed.
"And she's rather good at covering our tracks," Sam tilted his head. "Honestly, I'm trying to think of how we survived without her and I can't think of anything."
Dean snorted. "Let's get back to her; I want to see if her temperature's gone down."
~000~000~000~
They entered the motel to the sounds of Hermione throwing up in the bathroom.
"Still? It's been two days and two nights," Sam frowned.
"I know."
"Are you sure she's not pregnant?"
"Yes, she did a test before she got her period."
Sam grimaced. "I wish I never asked," he muttered.
~000~000~000~
"How's she doing?" Bobby asked Dean over the phone.
"We're on day three and she's still in bed, but we've made it through half the day without her throwing up, I'm going to try and get some food into her. Sammy's gone out to buy a toaster and some bread; I'm not risking her with anything else."
"Look Dean, I'm going to be blunt. Is she pregnant?"
"No, she took a test and it was negative."
"You sound disappointed," Bobby noted, having no idea that Hermione and Dean had been trying for a baby for well over six months.
"Sam hasn't told you?" Dean frowned, having assumed that his big mouthed brother who couldn't keep a secret would've already told Bobby about their baby making plans.
"Told me what?"
Dean sighed and prepared himself for Bobby's reaction. "Hermione and I have been trying for a baby for over six months." The line went quiet, until he heard Bobby having a coughing fit. "You alright, Bobby?" Dean asked.
"Yeah," he rasped. "Crap, Dean, a baby?"
"Why'd you say it like that?" Dean frowned.
"It's just... a baby. They cry, sleep and shit everywhere."
"Yes, thank you for that, Bobby, I didn't know what a baby was," Dean said sarcastically before frowning. "Look, Sam had the same reaction when I told him of our decision to try for kids, but he supported us. Hermione wants nothing more than to have a family and I want that, too, and I can give it to her. I'm shitting myself and worried that I'll mess up, but I still want to have a family with her. You know as well as I that the hunting life is dangerous and we made the decision early on in our relationship for that reason, but we've never once changed our minds about what we want as time's gone on. After spending time with Harry's kids, it's made me realise how committed I am to Hermione and any children we have. And every time she takes a test and it's negative, I find myself feeling disappointed, but then I know it'll happen when it's meant to, Cas said so, and so did the unicorn."
"Unico... I'm not even going to ask," he muttered.
"Yes, unicorn, it's a long story," Dean sighed. "I'm still scared of what's to come, but I'm ready to be a father. The kids showed me what I needed to see, they showed me how my responsibilities and priorities need to change to better their needs and safety, and fucking hell, you need to have eyes in the back of your head!" Bobby snorted. "I know it's going to be difficult given the life we have, but we'll make it work and our children won't have the life Sammy and I had, I'll make sure of it. You may not approve of our decision but..."
"I didn't say I didn't approve," Bobby interrupted. "I've seen a difference in you, you've grown up a lot since meeting Missy; she's good for you. I see the way you take care of her, and you haven't stopped talking about those kids for weeks. I'm proud of you and I always have been. Whether or not you have children is yours and Missy's decision and no one else's, especially mine. But if you do have children, I'm sure you'll be a good dad to those kids. You were to Sam."
Dean couldn't form a response.
"I know you're worried but between you and Missy, you'll keep your babies safe, and it helps you have Sam, me, Castiel and the entire horde that is Missy's family."
Dean snorted. "Fuck Bobby, there's hundred's of them! They make up half the population of gingers alone!"
Bobby snorted. "Idjit, now get Missy better."
"Working on it."
~000~000~000~
"Move out the way," Dean muttered.
He pushed Sam off the chair and away from the laptop, so he could search the internet for any way to help Hermione get over her food poisoning. In retrospect, he probably shouldn't have searched the internet for answers, since it brought up treatment from pain killers to chemotherapy, suggesting Hermione had cancer. Dean sighed and shut the laptop after thirty minutes of useless tips.
"She'll be fine," Sam said.
"I hate seeing her like this."
"She's getting better, she hasn't thrown up today and she's kept down the toast she had earlier on."
"But she's still got a temperature."
"Well, yeah, she's wrapped up in the bed sheets and a blanket, of course she's hot," he rolled his eyes.
~000~000~000~
"Hey, how you feeling?" Dean asked Hermione.
She turned over in bed to face him and she had a smile on her face. "Better, much better. I think I'm finally over it all."
"Yeah?" He asked softly, pushing her hair back from her face.
She yawned and nodded, making him chuckle. "Yeah, I'm hungry."
"She's fine!" Sam called from the bathroom and she scowled.
"Good, we'll go out for breakfast and you can have as many pancakes as you want, and we'll buy you an entire chocolate fudge cake."
Hermione sighed. "Best husband ever. Taking care of me when I'm sick, and feeding me when I'm better."
"Don't kid yourself." Sam came out of the bathroom and leaned against the door frame with a smirk on his face. "He's just doing it to keep you happy; you're a bitch when you're hungry... Shit!" He cursed, ducking as a hex whizzed over his shoulder and it slammed into the wall in the bathroom.
Sam stared at her.
"She's fine," Dean agreed, grinning widely at having his wife back.