CHAPTER EIGHTY-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: 8
Two weeks later...
"Have you seen, Hermione?" Dean asked, walking into their motel room after returning from picking up dinner.
"She left not long after you, she said she had a hunch regarding the case and wanted to do a little research at the local library."
Dean frowned. "And you didn't go with her?"
"No, why would I? She's a big girl and she can take care of herself, besides, she said she wanted some time for herself. I don't blame her, as much as we're family, sometimes you just need a break and some time alone."
"If anything happens to her..."
Sam rolled his eyes. "She's fine; she's a war veteran, powerful half witch, half Angel. She can more than take care of herself."
Dean narrowed his eyes at him before placing the food on the table and heading into the bathroom. When he returned he sat at the table and ate his food in silence, his worry for Hermione clear, though Sam thought he was being a little ridiculous.
"She's fine," he sighed.
"She better be, or you're getting your ass kicked," Dean glared.
Sam shook his head and went back to reading his book, another from Hermione's library.
The sound of a phone ringing broke the silence in the room and Dean pulled it out of his pocket, seeing Hermione's name as the caller ID he wasted no time in answering.
"Everything alright, Glinda? Sam said you wanted to do some research," he spoke, trying to hide the worry in his voice.
"Yeah, about that..."
"Why are you whispering?" He frowned, and his hearing picked up on the fact that her breathing seemed heavy, as if she'd been running.
"Don't get mad."
"Hermione, what have you done?"
"I may need some back up. We're dealing with a vengeful spirit, it took some digging but I know where the body's buried. I need one of you to get there and deal with that, whilst I try to keep the spirit distracted. It's already locked onto it's next victim and I accidentally ran into it, now it's hell bent on killing me."
"Fucking hell, where are you?" He asked quickly, standing up from the table and picking up his car keys, whilst Sam jumped up from the bed and moved to stand beside Dean when he heard Dean's outburst.
"You remember that office building we passed on the way to the motel? I'm currently in the underground parking structure. I'll have to wipe the security cameras afterwards since I broke in, but that's a story for another time. Shit..."
Dean heard a shriek before the clang of the phone falling to the floor.
"Glinda? Glinda? Hermione? What's going on!" He demanded, panic beginning to set in.
In the background he could hear bangs as though things were being thrown across a room and slamming into a wall. He held his breath when he heard the tell tale sound of gun shots, and then moments later, Hermione's voice came over the phone.
"I'm fine," she breathed heavily. "I've bought myself some time but not a lot of it. The body's buried beneath the oak tree near the bridge that marks the entrance to the town, ideally I could use one of you here with me, but it'll be easier and quicker for you both to go to the body and deal with it. Fuck! I better go, the crazy bitch is back..."
"Hermione! Hermione!"
Dean growled and snapped his phone shut before stuffing it into his pocket.
"Let's go, Hermione's found the spirit responsible," Dean muttered, before storming out of the motel room and to the Impala.
~000~000~000~
Dean and Sam stood at the oak tree, watching as the flames devoured the body in the grave beneath them.
"I'm sure she's fine," Sam spoke.
Dean glared at him, before they both jumped in surprise when they heard a 'crack.' They both turned their heads to see Hermione approaching them and brushing down her clothing as she did so.
Dean had his arms around her, hugging her tightly before pushing her back and checking her over for injuries before she'd even had the chance to speak.
"I'm fine," she shrugged.
Dean glared at her, spying the blood trickling from a cut on her forehead, scrapes on her palms and the dirt and dust that covered her clothing.
"I'm fine, I've had worse injuries. I must admit, she was a lot tougher than I thought she'd be."
"What were you even doing there? You could've been killed," he demanded.
"To be fair, it's not like I went looking for trouble," she replied calmly. "I caught a lucky break and discovered the next possible victim and I decided to check it out before heading back to the motel. It just so happens I wasn't the only one there. I got the victim out after wiping his memories of me and the spirit didn't appreciate that, so she decided I would take the guy's place. Of course she wasn't expecting my wanting to fight for my life."
"Don't ever do that again," he told her.
She rolled her eyes. "I think you're forgetting who I am. I've grown up with ghosts and spirits, I know them very well and it's not my first case involving a ghost, with or without you. Though saying that, we've been together coming up a year and a half, I think I can handle myself."
"She's right," Sam shrugged. "I told you not to worry."
"Shut it, Sammy."
~000~000~000~
Two weeks later...
"What are we dealing with?" Hermione asked, walking into Sam's motel room with a paper bag containing their dinner, and another filled with snacks for later.
"Your favourite," Sam replied amused.
Hermione groaned loudly and placed the bags in the centre of the table he and Dean were occupying, before Hermione moved over to Sam's bed and flopped down onto it dramatically.
"Please don't say what I think it is," she begged.
"You know I'm going to," Sam shrugged. "Lamia,"
Hermione made a noise of frustration and put her hands over her face.
"I swear to every deity there is, if she so much as looks at Dean, I'm killing her."
"We were going to anyway," Dean replied amused, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back into his chair.
"I have plenty of spells up my sleeve that can easily kill someone should they be used for that purpose, believe it or not, a lot of innocent spells can be used to do wrong."
"Such as?" Sam asked intrigued.
"Well," she said, removing her hands from over her face and pushing herself up onto her elbows. "Aquamenti, it's a water conjuring spell, but with a little tweaking of the wand movements, it can be used to fill a person's lungs with water, or a large body of water can be conjured for you to drown them in. Diffindo, it's a Severing Charm mainly used in healing but it can be used to cut a person's throat if there's enough force behind the spell. There's a charm that is used in healing in which the bones are broken in order for them to be fixed or re-grown, yet it can be used to torture someone by breaking every bone in their body. Magic is both frightening and wonderful, as I've come to learn over the years." They both blinked at her in surprise.
She sighed before pushing herself up and off the bed, moving over to the table and retrieving the food she had ordered for herself.
"I suppose we better eat dinner and then head out, you have a possible location?"
Sam nodded. "She seems to be heading south and choosing her victims every three days. That would make tonight the night she's going after someone else, and if my assumptions are correct, her next stop will be a bar about three miles from here."
"Well, at least I don't have to dress up this time, my feet are still hurting from the heels I wore last time, and I'm sure that dress was invented as a torture device; I could barely breathe let alone move," she said and they snorted at her.
"Well, if you reduced the amount of food you eat the dress wouldn't have been a tight fit."
Dean stared at his brother for his stupidity, before a rumble of laughter tore from him when Hermione's hex hit Sam before he could blink.
~000~000~000~
"I've got eyes on her," Hermione mumbled, sitting in a booth with Dean opposite her, whilst Sam was sat on a stool at the bar, talking with a redhead. Dean turned his head slightly, before turning back to her.
"The redhead?"
"No," she shook her head before taking a sip from her beer. "The brunette, she's sat three stools down from Sam. She's choosing her next victim."
Hermione sat up taller and raised an eyebrow when she saw the brunette latch her attention onto Dean. They locked gazes before Hermione brushed her hair back from her face, making sure that her wedding ring would easily be seen in the lights of the bar, and she sent a look of warning.
The brunette blinked before thankfully deciding it wasn't worth making Dean her next victim, and she turned her eyes back to scanning the male occupants of the bar.
"Marked your territory?" Dean asked amused.
"Yes, thanks," she replied, taking another sip of her beer.
They waited twenty minutes before the brunette moved closer to Sam, and after ten minutes of talking, both of them left the bar together and they walked past their booth. Hermione and Dean made sure to be in conversation to make it look as though they weren't paying attention. It would be a lot more difficult if the lamia knew the three of them were together and that they were hunting her.
Hermione and Dean waited until Sam and the lamia disappeared out the door, before they both stood up and followed them out.
~000~000~000~
"You boys alright?" Hermione panted, leaning against the wall with her wand in hand and her hands resting against her knees as she bent over slightly.
"Fine," Dean replied, his breathing heavy as he leaned against a bin.
"I'm good," Sam groaned, pushing himself up off the floor and sitting with his back leaning against the wall.
"Well, that was unexpected," she replied, standing up straight and pocketing her wand.
They both snorted at her. None of them had been expecting there to be a second lamia waiting in the alley way behind the bar, which had made things a little more complicated than they had planned it being. But despite there being two lamias, there had still been three of them. They had experience and Hermione's magic on their side, and after a struggle they had gotten the upper hand and both lamias were a pile of ash.
"I need a drink," Hermione sighed.
"You and me both," Sam said, groaning as Dean helped him to stand up and he rolled his shoulders.
"You're sure you're okay?" Hermione asked. "You hit that wall pretty hard."
"I'm fine at the minute, a little sore but the alcohol I'm planning to drink will dull that. In the morning I'll likely feel it," Sam replied.
Hermione and Dean snorted. "I'll have a Hangover Potion and Bruise Removal Paste on standby and ready for you," she said amused.
"Come on then, let's get you your drink, I think you've earned it," Dean said, throwing his arm around her shoulders and leading her down the alley way. "You coming, Sammy?"
"I'll catch up," he said, rubbing at his aching shoulder.
"We'll order for you," Hermione called over her shoulder, before she and Dean rounded the corner and exited the alley way.
She and Dean made their way to the bar, ordered their drinks before returning to their booth, and Sam appeared moments after them.
"Your shoulder bothering you?" Hermione asked, seeing the way he winced and rubbed at it.
"I just knocked it," Sam said.
"Do you want me to take a look at it?" She frowned slightly.
He shook his head. "I'm sure it'll be fine in the morning, if not you can work you magic then."
"Alright," she shrugged, sliding the beer bottle across the table and he caught it.
She took a swig from her own bottle and her eyes scanned the crowd in the bar, it slowly increasing as the night grew later. Her eyes landed on the only empty pool table in the room and Dean seemed to notice.
"You wanna play?" He asked her.
Her eyes moved over to him and she frowned slightly. "I don't know how to."
"What?" Both brothers said surprised, looking at her dumbly.
"I don't know how to," she repeated.
"How is that even possible?" Sam asked.
She shrugged. "I spent my childhood at a magical school and fighting a war, there's no such thing as pool or billiards in the Wizarding World. After graduating I went straight into employment and I spent most of my time in the Wizarding World. When my department was created, I was always too busy to learn to play, and I had no one to teach me, so I never bothered. I mean, I've seen you both play plenty of times to understand some of the rules, but not to play."
They both blinked, unable to form a response.
"I still don't understand how we've been together a year and a half, and we've never taught you to play pool," Sam said.
"Well, let's rectify that," Dean spoke, taking a swig of his beer, before standing up and holding out his hand, taking Hermione's hand in his and pulling her up from her seat. "By the time I'm done with you, you'll be the best pool hustler there is. We could make a fortune."
Hermione snorted. "We're already wealthy."
"You're wealthy."
"We're wealthy," she corrected. "What's mine is yours."
"Whatever," he said, pulling her away from their booth and over to the pool table, leaving an amused Sam behind as he swigged at his beer.
Dean wasted no time in setting up the pool balls before handing her a pool cue, and he chuckled when she seemed surprised by how heavy it was.
"You get used to it. So, I'll break and we'll start from there."
"Alright," she shrugged, stepping back and allowing Dean the space he needed.
She watched as two balls were sunk into the pockets and she blinked in surprise.
"Nope, I'm not doing this with you," she said, placing the pool cue against the wall and turning to walk back to the booth.
Dean chuckled and he reached out and caught her hand in his, turning her around and pulling her into him and he curled his arm around her back.
"We both know there's nothing you can't do when you put your mind to it. You'll be a pro before you know it and wiping the floor with Sammy."
"That's never going to happen," she scoffed.
"It would, he's scared of you so he'd let you win." She huffed and slapped at his chest as he laughed at her. "I'm only kidding, now, let's get you playing your first ever game of pool."
He leaned down and placed a quick kiss to her lips, before pulling back. He handed her his pool cue and pulled her over to the pool table.
"Right, it's really simple, but before I help you, I want to see if you can do it by yourself. All rules are out for the time being, so, pick a ball and pocket and off you go."
Hermione sighed before tightening her grip on the pool cue and fixing her eyes on the pool table, her eyes scanning the scattered balls and deciding which would be easier to hit into a pocket.
She picked one and moved around the table before lifting the cue and mimicking Dean's previous actions and bending slightly at the waist. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and then pulled back the cue and hitting the white ball.
She heard the clink of balls scattering around the table and when she opened her eyes, it was to see one of the balls falling into a pocket; she was happily surprised until the white ball followed it and she frowned and stood up.
"Not bad, Sweetheart," Dean praised, coming up beside her and throwing his arm around her shoulders. "Your aims quite good but I knew it would be, given what you can do with your wand, knives and a gun. The problem is that you're not sure how much force to use when hitting the ball. You used too much this time around, which is why you potted the white ball. It takes practice, but you'll pick it up rather quickly. Let's try again."
He retrieved the white ball and placed it back on the table before moving back over to Hermione and standing behind her.
"Right, pick your target."
Hermione grumbled before her eyes scanned the pool table and once she'd made her decision, she looked behind her.
"Aren't you going to move?"
"Why would I do that?" He asked innocently.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Now I know why you wanted to teach me how to do this," she said.
Dean grinned at her as he motioned for her to get a move on with it, not bothering to deny it.
"Oh, honestly," she huffed.
She nudged him with her elbow and he took a step back. She bent at the waist slightly, more than aware of Dean being behind her as he stepped closer to her, her bum pressed against him. She felt one of his hands curl around her stomach and the other moved to rest over her hand on the pool cue.
"You don't need to put so much force behind it, if you do you're more likely to miss or send it off its course. Just relax and let go," he breathed against her ear, and her breath hitched.
"You're not helping," she muttered. She didn't imagine his smirk against her skin as he pressed a kiss to her neck. "I hate you."
"No you don't," he said amused. "You're enjoying yourself, don't deny it."
"Apparently not as much as you," she replied, feeling the way the hand on her stomach began to wander.
She felt him shrug against her. "I'm always happy to bend you over a table."
"Oh, for Merlin's Sake," she huffed, pushing him away from her and standing up, depositing the pool cue on the table and storming off, hearing him laughing loudly.
"What's he done now?" Sam asked as she moodily sank down into her seat at their booth. She picked up her beer bottle and downed the rest of it before crossing her arms.
"Your brother's a pain in the arse," she replied.
"I've known that for years," Sam snorted, "But what's he done for you to come to this realisation?"
"You don't want to know." He raised an eyebrow. "I've discovered his true reasoning for wishing to teach me how to play pool."
His eyebrow remained raised until Dean sat himself down beside him and he saw the look he had trained on Hermione, who was doing a good job at ignoring his stare.
"Oh, give me a fucking break," Sam groaned.
"Stop complaining, you have your own room," Dean said.
"This time I do, I didn't three days ago."
"It's not my fault my wife's irresistible," Dean shrugged.
"She was wearing sweat pants," Sam replied.
"And I couldn't wait to take them off her."
Sam grimaced and his head flopped back against the back rest of the booth.
"God, why do you hate me!"