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He ducked beneath the swipe of the vampire’s clawed hand and cursed as its nails cut across his forearm. Dean moved around a tree, putting it between himself and the vampire as he caught his breath for a second. He briefly inspected the wound; it was deep and would need some medical attention soon before any infection set in. But for now, it meant the arm was next to useless. Cursing the fact that he had dropped his machete in the snow, he stepped out to engage the vampire once more, pulling a large knife from the back of his jeans as he did so. 

Dean grit his teeth as the fight wore on. This vampire was skilled, it wasn’t tiring easily or giving him a clear shot to decapitate it. He began to wonder if he was going to get out of this one. 

He had just fended off another blow when he saw her — a woman. 

She had long curling brown hair and her eyes glittered with annoyance as she took in the scene before her. 

“Get out of here!” Dean called out. 

There was no way he was going to allow this thing to get her as well. 

“Oh, honestly,” she said, sighing as she pulled a stick from inside her sleeve. “ Lumos Solem! ” 

A bright light shot from the stick, piercing the vampire through the heart and much to Dean’s surprise, the monster slowly began to disintegrate to ash. 

“What the hell?” 

Dean whirled on her, his hand automatically going for his gun - only for another flash of light to burst from her stick and send it spinning away. 

Alright, so not just an innocent woman for him to protect after all. Though she had left him with his knife, so there was that. 

Getting into a defensive pose, Dean took in the woman for real.

“You’re gonna regret doing that… whatever the hell you are.”

Her eyebrows rose and she stared at him for a second.

“Oh, bugger! You’re a muggle !!”

“I am not!” Dean shot back, his brow furrowing a second later, “What’s a muggle?”

“I thought you must know about magic since you were fighting a vampire-” She looked torn as if debating whether or not to go on and she was fingering that stick of hers. Her eyes settled on his wound, “You should come with me. I can heal your wound.” 

“The hell I will!” Dean asked, his posture still tense. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” she retorted, sounding offended.

Dean snorted, “Yeah. Right. That’s what they all say.”

She cocked her head, inquisitive. “They?”

Dean gave her a look, “Yeah, you know, strange, creepy people you meet in the middle of the woods. Especially ones that can gank vampires in about two seconds flat. What even are you?”

“Fair enough,” she replied as her gaze wandered over him, probably debating if she could trust him . 

Dean took the time to take her in as well, noting that while she seemed relaxed, she was also positioned in such a way that she could easily spring into action. She was sure of herself in a way that only someone used to fighting was. 

At last, it seemed she had come to a decision about trusting him: “I’m a witch, that was a spell.”

A witch ? Well, it did make some kind of sense - but then again: “You don’t look like any witch I’ve met before,” Dean said, as he watched her warily.

“Well, what kind-” She broke off as she eyed his defensive stance again, “Oh, Merlin, you’ve met those kind? I promise I’m not anything like that. I’m a good witch if you want to call it that.” 

“Yeah, you’re really giving me the Glinda vibes here,” he replied sarcastically. “You offed that vamp without a second thought.” 

She placed her hands on her hips as she glared at him, “Oh, and you would have agonised over it if you had somehow managed to cut his head off with that thing?” She gestured at the weapon in his hands. “He was rogue! Do you really think I was just going to stand here and let him eat you? Especially on my land? Do you know what kind of field day the press would have with that? Besides! I’ve got a license that allows me to execute the law where it is needed. He was attacking you! The fact that you’re a muggle makes it worse!”

“Makes what worse?”

“You shouldn’t even know about our world!” 

“Hey, now! I’ve been fighting monsters for a hell of a long time, lady! And I’d wager I know more about dealing with them even with your fancy license!” 

To his surprise, she started to giggle and then laugh. Her arms wrapped around her stomach as she bent over and her laugh became mildly hysterical as she leant against a nearby tree for support. 

Dean scowled at her as she wiped her eyes and stood up again.

“Oh, Circe, I needed that.” 

She giggled again, and it somehow put Dean at ease, the amusement in her eyes seeming genuine enough at least.

“Thank you. Come on, come back to my place and I’ll fix you up.”

“Uh-uh, nope. No way. I’m not going anywhere with no witch.” 

She threw up her hands, “Fine, be a stubborn git! It’s not like I don’t know how to deal with that,” she muttered, “But if you don’t want to freeze to death in this oncoming blizzard, or die of infection, my house is this way.” 

She turned and began to walk off, and it was then that Dean noticed the white flakes sticking in her hair. He looked up and cursed. The sky was growing darker and the clouds were thick and heavy looking, so it was probably best to take her word for it. It was only just beginning to snow but the witch seemed to know what she was talking about. 

Glancing around, he realised he didn’t know what direction he needed to head in to get back to his car and Sammy. His best option for the moment really was to follow her. 

The snowfall already picked up and Dean cursed again. Tucking the knife back into his jeans he hurried over to grab his gun from the ground, finding his machete nearby as well, and then tramped off in the direction she had gone. 

Muttering about infuriating women as he did so. 

~*~*~*~*~ Hermione&Dean ~*~*~*~*~

Hermione entered her house, leaving the door ajar behind her. The stupidly good looking muggle would follow her. There was no way he could stay out there for the oncoming night. She moved toward her potions room and began rummaging for the dittany and some bandages when she heard the door creak open and his voice call out to her. 

“Come in!” she replied, “I’ll just be a second!”

“I can’t come in,” he called back, anger clear in his voice, “I’m stuck.”

Hermione paused. Well, it was good to know that her wards worked, she supposed. She came back into the main room and propped one fist on her hip as she sent him an exasperated glare.

“Well, that’s what you get for trying to enter someone’s home armed!”

“What?”

“Drop your weapons at the door; then you can come in.”

“You’re joking?” 

“I am not.”

There was silence as they glared at each other for a moment, and then a breeze picked up, sending a flurry of snow in through the door. 

“Fine,” he grumbled, dropping the gun next to his foot. Along with the blade he had brought for the vampire. 

She arched an eyebrow at him when he struggled again to get in. 

Exhaling through his nose, clearly annoyed, he reached behind himself and pulled a hunting knife out from the back of his pants, adding that to the pile and yet, the spell still did not let him inside. Hermione watched, intrigued and impressed, as the collection of weapons continued to grow. Another knife up his sleeve. A small gun tucked into his boot. A switchblade from his pocket and another one in his jacket added themselves to the pile. Finally, he unbuckled his belt and let that fall too and then he stepped inside. His eyes wary as he watched her.

Hermione pointed wordlessly to the only armchair and he moved to sit on the arm, nowhere near relaxed enough in her presence to sit properly in the seat. 

She approached him slowly and began to roll up his sleeve. 

“I know you don’t trust me,” she began, “and I understand it’s because you’ve had dealings with muggles… non-magical people,” she remembered to explain, “who have dabbled in Dark Arts and sought to treat with forces they don’t understand. But I promise you that I’m not like that. I mean no harm.”

She wet one of the towels she had brought with water from her wand and began to clean his wound of the drying blood. Wincing in sympathy as she saw the extent of the damage there. It would probably take more than a splash of dittany to heal.

The man, on the other hand, didn’t even flinch - as if he was used to this. Instead, his eyes were fixed on her.

“Yeah? What makes you different to them then?”

For a moment, she caught his gaze before turning back to his arm.

“I was born with magic; it came to me through my father’s side of the family. My three times great grandfather was a wizard. I went to school to learn how I could use it, learned the rules of magic and the laws my people have in place to keep it from being abused. I used to work for our Ministry. I was one of the people who made and upheld those laws.” 

Using a tergeo spell, she cleaned the blood off of the towel before she soaked it in the dittany. She chanced another glance at him as she pressed it to the wound, and this time, he hissed between his teeth at the pain. 

“My name’s Hermione, by the way.”

He looked at her sharply before he nodded.

“Dean.”

She gave him a small half-smile before rechecking the wound, it had started to heal, but she couldn’t bandage it just yet. Applying more dittany to the towel and then increasing the pressure, she continued talking. 

“My magic, and for people like me, it comes from inside of us. It’s not something we invoke or receive in exchange for our souls. It’s ours and ours alone.”

Dean grunted, “I’ve met one of you before, Colin Creepy or something like that. He always tried to take my damn picture,” he finally allowed. “But in my line of work, I see way more of the other kind to think immediately of the so-called ‘good ones’.” 

Hermione snorted, “Trust me, there are ‘bad ones’ of my kind too, but we do pretty much keep to ourselves. Wait- Colin? Colin Creevey ?” 

“Yeah, think so. Excitable guy, blond hair, always a camera in hand.”

“He was the year below me in school,” Hermione said, “I didn’t realise he was in the States too.” 

“Apparently he was on some expedition for Crumpy-thornsacks or something.” 

“Ah,” Hermione replied with a smile. “He was with Luna then, that makes sense.”

“Nah, he was with a dude. Harry, I think. I rescued Colin from a wendigo, and returned him to their camp. Dude was almost beside himself with worry.”  

Hermione laughed softly, “Yeah, that sounds like Harry.” 

“You know him?”

She nodded, “Harry’s my best friend, Luna’s his girlfriend. She’s a magizoologist - she studies magical creatures - and Harry’s her back-up. Sometimes they get Colin to come and do the pictures.” 

She lifted the towel again; the wound was looking much better. There were no red lines of infection and it had started to close. She put the towel down and picked up one of the soaking cotton swabs, holding it against his arm as she wrapped a bandage around his forearm. 

“So, what're you doing living in a cabin in the woods by yourself?” Dean asked. 

Hermione glanced at him before refocusing on her task. “I still work for our government, but I’m a researcher now. I prefer the peace and quiet out here. There are no distractions, and there’s less entrenched magic in America, so it doesn’t mess with my results.” 

“That explains all the books then,” he said as he glanced around her home. 

Hermione followed his gaze and saw her place with fresh eyes. It suddenly occurred to her that perhaps she did have rather a lot of books. All the walls were covered in shelves and there were some piled on the very few surfaces she had in this small space of her home. There was a shelf installed above the windows to hold more, and she had even arranged a stack into a vaguely tree like shape and hung some tinsel over them for some Christmas spirit. 

Huh, she thought, maybe her friends were right.

“What was with that spell you used on the vamp?” Dean asked, pulling her thoughts back to the present moment. “They don’t normally turn to dust.” .

“It’s something my people developed a long time ago to fend them off. You must know that they are sensitive to sunlight?”

“Yeah, but they usually just get a bad burn.”

Hermione nodded, “Well, the spell is concentrated sunlight, it accelerates their degeneration and decomposes them instantly. The myths about sunlight being able to kill them are true, just inaccurate in their description of the source.”

Dean nodded as she spelled the bandage to weave into itself, effectively tying itself shut. She stood back and nodded at her work, pleased with the result as she tidied up. 

“What were you doing tangling with a vampire anyway? And how are you so aware of the supernatural?” she asked. 

“I’m a Hunter. I hunt monsters.”

Hermione spun around, her eyes alight with curiosity. “Really? I’ve heard about muggles who hunt dark creatures who are prolific enough to make it onto their radar. How do you do it? It must be dangerous. Do you hunt with a group? Or by yourself? Do you-”

“Hey, whoa now. If you actually want me to answer, sweetheart, you might wanna let me get a word in edgeways,” Dean said with a slight chuckle as he stood off the single armchair, hands up in front of him. 

“Oh, right. Of course.”

“As it is, I uh- do have someone I hunt with, my brother Sam. Who I need to get back to, by the way. He’s probably waiting by the car by now. You got some kind of transportation around here? A car or something? A bike maybe?” 

Hermione’s eyes flicked to the corner, where Harry’s last Christmas gift sat, gathering cobwebs. Dean turned to follow her gaze.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. That’s not actually real, is it? You don’t really ride that thing?” 

“Well, no. I don’t. I hate flying,” Hermione said matter-of-factly, “But Harry insisted on it, in case of emergencies. He’s getting paranoid, I swear, if it wasn’t for Luna he would be worse than Mad-Eye.” 

“Uhuh,” Dean nodded, “I’m not following.”

She flapped a hand at him dismissively, “I’ve got a phone, would you like to call your brother?” 

Dean smacked his forehead and then dug into his pocket for his mobile, grimacing as he glanced at the screen. He pressed the speed dial on the keypad as he brought it up to his ear. 

“Sammy? Everything okay? My phone was on silent - calling me sixteen times like a thirteen-year-old girl isn’t going to make me able to hear it.”

Hermione moved into the kitchen to give him some privacy. Looking out the window, she saw the snow was beginning to build up, falling more substantially as she watched. She jumped when she heard Dean’s voice behind her. 

“Uh- Sam’s heading back to town now. He agreed on your prediction that there’s a big snowstorm setting in and that if I’m safe here with you, then he’ll come get me when the weather clears. Is it alright if I crash here for the time being?”

“Oh, uh-yes, yes, of course, that’s fine,” Hermione said, even as her thoughts scattered over where he was going to sleep. 

~*~*~*~*~ Hermione&Dean ~*~*~*~*~

Two days later, and it was clear that the weather had set in to stay for a time. The snowfall had not decreased, and from the wind howling outside, the blizzard was about to set in. Much to the dismay of her guest. 

Dean was a man of action and did not take well to being cooped up indoors without much to do. Even if Hermione hadn’t realised that within the first few hours of his company, she was damn well sure of it now. 

They had spent the time talking, discussing their various experiences with dark creatures, Hermione’s experience with Dark wizards and Dean’s experience with muggles who dabbled with forces they couldn’t understand. And on Hermione’s behalf, covertly watching a strenuous routine of exercises. Apparently, Dean needed a way to rid himself of pent up energy. 

It might have all been well and good if it wasn’t for the fact they had also been sharing a bed. Hermione’s single armchair wasn’t something she could easily transfigure into a suitable and comfortable bed, there simply wasn’t enough material to work with.

That first night, Hermione’s heart had beat a tattoo against her chest as she had lain there, trying to steady her breathing enough to fall asleep. Dean was fit, and he slept in only his boxers. The next morning she had woken up spooned against him. She told herself it was because the covers had slid down in the night and she must have gotten cold. 

The second night, Hermione had woken early with Dean spooned around her. And there was a very pressing matter in between. It had taken everything she had not to scramble from the bed in such a way that would wake him. Once she had carefully controlled her breathing - inhaling his wonderful fragrance in the process - and her heart rate, she extracted herself and set about cooking them breakfast - and by cooking, she meant laying out the bread next to the toaster. Even after all these years, Hermione had never picked up much of a knack for cooking. 

Dean walked into the kitchen just as the kettle finished boiling in only the sweat pants Hermione had transfigured for him. He scratched idly at his chest as he stretched and yawned. 

“Is that snow melted yet?” he asked. 

“Not yet,” Hermione said as she pushed a mug in his direction. 

She leant forward onto the island counter in her kitchen and sipped her tea. Grateful that it gave her an excuse to look at him from under her lashes. He pottered around her kitchen, now seemingly wholly at ease in her company and her house. She supposed it had something to do with the fact that they had been quite literally locked up with one another for the past forty hours or so. 

Dean came to lean on the counter next to her, eyes like sparkling jade as he met her eyes. His slow smirk began to warm her from the inside as he had his first sip of coffee. 

“So, what’s on the agenda today then? Mahjong? Scrabble? Some more ‘light reading’,” he added with a wink, doing a poor job at hiding his smirk behind his coffee mug. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, “Har har. You liked that story, don’t pretend otherwise. I could dig out a set of Wizard’s chess, but somehow, I didn’t think it was your thing.”

“Wizard’s chess? That’d be just as boring as regular chess, yeah?”

Hermione’s lips twitched, “Yes. Pretty much. Except for the violence of course.”

“Think I’ll pass.”

“No? Really?” Hermione gasped in mock shock. 

“Well, if this snow isn’t going anywhere yet, what movie were we up to?” Dean asked as he moved into the living room, plonking himself down on the pile of pillows they had arranged in front of the TV. Dean had complained a few times about Hermione’s lack of a couch. 

Hermoine followed him, flicking her wand at the fireplace before falling into a tailors seat next to his sprawled form. 

“Well, it was ‘The Little Mermaid’ last night,” she said, consulting the stack of movies next to her. “So the next one is ‘Beauty & the Beast’.”

Dean hummed and moved for the DVD player, effortlessly switching the disk she handed to him with the one already in the slot. As the beginning credits rolled, Hermione decided to finally embrace the Hogwarts House she had been placed into and ask something that had been on her mind since they had started their movie marathon in the late afternoon the previous day. 

“You know, I had expected you to scoff at my movie collection… Refuse to watch these or something. Because surely you realise you don’t fit the… aesthetic.”

Dean glanced up at her, clearly ready to defend himself, but whatever he saw on her face, must have changed his mind because he replied in a quiet way that made it all the more honest. 

“I see enough death, and horror, and monsters in real life. I like the escape the movies give me. Like, they remind me that not all in life is bad.”

Hermione’s smile was a little sad and all too understanding. 

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“You know,” he said slowly, “You’re nothing like I expected either. You don’t fit the- what’d you call it? Aesthetic, I have for a witch.” 

“What, no warts?” she teased. 

He grinned up at her, his eyes lingering for just a moment too long for his gaze to be innocent. “Something like that.”

She hummed, “The ones you normally have dealings with, they aren’t what my community consider to be witches - or wizards,” she added as an afterthought, “Even the darkest witches or wizards of my kind wouldn’t prostrate themselves before a demon. There’s no need for them to, even our weakest members are stronger than what a non-magical human can achieve through bartering their soul. And we hold our souls in much higher esteem to just give them away like that.”

They were quiet after that, settling in to watch as Belle fell in love with the Beast and did everything she could to save him from Gaston and the villagers. 

~*~*~*~*~ Hermione&Dean ~*~*~*~*~

The snow eventually let up, and with the clouds gone, the sun shone again to clear the roads. Hermione gave Dean instructions for Sam to find them, and he arrived in the late afternoon to pick him up. There had been some introductions and not a small amount of amusement for Hermione as she watched Dean restock himself with all his weapons on her front porch. 

Sam had muttered something about letting them say goodbye and gone back to sit in the car, pointedly opening a laptop as he waited. 

“Is he alright?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, probably just giving us some privacy.”

Hermione raised her eyebrow dubiously, “and why would he be doing that?”

Dean shrugged, “Well you know, we have been locked in a cabin together for over two days, in a blizzard. He probably assumed we had to snuggle for warmth or something,” he said with a roguish wink. 

Hermione laughed, as she leant against the doorframe. “Oh Merlin, when you say it like that it sounds like some trashy romance novel.”

“Or fanfiction,” Dean said with a shudder as he remembered some of the things Sam had found on the internet. Particularly by user named samlicker81 . “You don’t want to know,” he added when Hermione looked at him curiously, “trust me.” 

Hermione took his word for it, yet, she wasn’t quite ready yet to let him leave. Instead, she grinned at him.

“So why would you brother think such a thing? Is that what would normally happen? I thought you said you were a ‘perfect gentleman’,” she teased. 

“Hey, I’m no angel,” he said, “but I can be a gentleman.” 

Hermione inhaled softly as she registered the unspoken words: for the right woman. Hoping that perhaps he meant her.

“So uh, I’ll see you again?” he asked. 

Even though her heart flipped a beat, Hermione kept herself calm.

“Will you? It was my impression Hunters moved around a lot.”

“We go where the cases take us, but I’d like to,” Dean told her as he stepped forward, crowding her against the open door jam. “I’d really like to.”

Hermione bit her lip as she looked up at him. 

“I’d like that too,” she whispered. 

Dean’s grin was infectious, but she was barely able to return it as he pressed forward those last few inches, his lips against hers as one hand tangled in her hair and the other slipped around her waist. 

Her arms came up to wrap around his shoulders, her hands on the back of his neck, and she rose onto her toes as she pushed back up into the kiss. She gasped when his tongue ran along her bottom lip and groaned when it delved into her mouth. 

A long blast of the horn startled them but Dean didn’t even pull back as he sent a rude hand gesture toward his brother. He pressed another quick kiss to her lips and then gave her an apologetic look. 

“I’ll see you. Soon,” he said. 

She hummed in reply and pulled him back in for a kiss. Kissing him like she had wanted to do since the first time he smirked at her. Kissing him in case this was her last chance to do so. 

When they finally parted, he looked a little dazed and she felt unsteady on her feet. The horn blasted again and Dean sighed. 

“Go on,” she said, pushing him lightly, “you’ve got work to do.” 

“Not nearly as interesting as staying here.” 

She snorted, “ I’ve got work to do.”

Indeed, she had. She had done some work the first day they had been snowed in, but as they had grown used to each other, it had fallen away quite quickly as they had spent time together. 

“Soon,” Dean promised again.

“Soon,” she replied. 

With that, Dean nodded to her and jogged down the stairs and toward his car. Perhaps because the sooner he left, the sooner he could be back.