The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Page count: 8

They'd been driving for six hours straight.

As Sam had predicted, they'd stopped twice—once for fuel, once for Dean's stomach. Hermione returned from the gas station with a bulging plastic bag that looked ready to burst, filled to the brim with drinks, crisps, chocolate bars, and enough sugar to keep Dean quiet for hours.

Dean was happily at the wheel, humming along to Led Zeppelin, one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding a half-eaten cupcake. Sam sat in the passenger seat, content for once, nose buried in the book Hermione had lent him. A faint shimmer of silence surrounded him—Hermione's doing—after he'd begged for it with his best puppy-dog eyes.

And in the back seat, Hermione was completely absorbed in her paperwork. A stack of parchment was spread across her lap, her neat handwriting racing across the page in quick, decisive strokes. She hadn't looked up once in three hours. Every so often, Dean glanced in the rear-view mirror, catching the sight of her furrowed brow and the way her bottom lip tugged between her teeth as she thought. It was weirdly distracting.

Then a faint sound reached her—soft, familiar, and completely drowned out by the thunder of the electric guitar.

Hermione frowned.

"Dean!" she called, raising her voice. No reaction.

"Dean!" she tried again, louder this time.

Still nothing.

Rolling her eyes, she leaned forward and gave his ear a sharp flick.

"Hey! What the hell—?" Dean jerked, glaring at her as he twisted the volume knob down. "What was that for?"

"I tried calling you," she said over the lingering echo of music. "Twice. Honestly, is there a reason it has to be that loud? Are you trying to make me deaf?"

He shot her a look. "I drive better when it's loud."

"That's debatable," she muttered. "Anyway, I need you to pull over when you get the chance."

"Why?"

"Just—pull over, Dean," she sighed, sitting back with a huff. The hooting grew louder, cutting through the quiet now that the music had faded. A smile tugged at her lips. "Oh, Ricky..."

Dean frowned but steered the Impala off onto a slip road ten minutes later. Hermione was out of the car before he could ask again, standing by the shoulder with her head tilted back toward the sky.

"What the hell are we stopping for?" he asked, climbing out.

He got his answer when a familiar, echoing hoot sounded above them. Dean ducked instinctively as a small owl swooped low over the Impala, wings catching the sunlight before landing gracefully on Hermione's shoulder.

Dean blinked. "You've gotta be kidding me."

Ricky hooted affectionately, nuzzling Hermione's cheek as she laughed and reached up to stroke his feathers.

"I know, I missed you too," she cooed softly. "Now then, what've you brought me?"

Dean leaned back slightly, wary of the bird's talons, while Sam joined them, amused.

"Where's he been?" Sam asked, watching the owl preen under Hermione's touch.

"I sent him to England with my report from the Death Eater capture the other day," she explained. "And with a few gifts for my godchildren. He always gets spoiled rotten when he visits, so I'm shocked he's back already. Usually, he stays for two weeks because they feed him like royalty." She frowned playfully, tapping his chest. "And it shows—you've definitely put on weight."