The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Page count: 13 

"How are we going to explain the fact that I came back without breakfast?" Dean asked as he stepped out of the fastest shower of his life. Hermione had already gone before him, and she was now fully dressed and doing... something teacher-ish with her satchel.

He walked into the room with only a towel slung low on his hips, water still dripping from his hair.

Hermione flicked her wand at him without even looking—his hair instantly dry. Another flick, and his clothes came sailing in from his room. She handed them over like she hadn't just seen him naked an hour ago.

He saw her, though.

Heels—black, three inches. A long, light-grey coat tied neatly at the waist, hiding the rest of her outfit like some kind of sexy librarian mystery. Hair up in a ponytail, curls falling perfectly down her back. Thick-rimmed glasses perched on her nose.

Dean swallowed hard.

If Sam ever walked in wearing glasses, Dean would bully him for fourteen hours straight.
But Hermione?

Hermione made glasses look illegal.

He briefly—dangerously—had a sexy teacher fantasy flash through his mind.

Before he could say something idiotic, she spoke.

"I'll Apparate to the diner and pick something up. If you hurry, we can both make it to the car in time."

She smiled, lifted her wand, and turned on the spot.

Crack.

Dean stared at the empty air where she'd been.

"Still freaky," he muttered, yanking on his shirt.

He'd thought about wearing another pair of red shorts just to annoy Sam, but he wasn't entirely convinced Sam wouldn't shove his head down a toilet. And Hermione? Hermione would roast him alive.

So instead, he pulled on the new PE get-up they'd bought yesterday: plain white t-shirt, light white tracksuit jacket, matching shorts, ankle socks, sneakers. Clean. Practical. Coach-Winchester-approved.

By the time he tied his shoes—

Crack.

Hermione reappeared right beside him, making him jump a foot in the air.

She gave him a once-over—slow enough that he caught it. Dean smirked.

Her eyes flicked away. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear.

"Later," she said firmly.

He nodded once. "Yeah. Later."

She grabbed her satchel, heavy with forged documents, references, and God knows what else. "Let's go. We were supposed to leave in fifteen minutes—twenty-five minutes ago."

Together, they headed down the motel stairs toward the Impala.

Sam stood by the car, arms folded, looking like a man who knew exactly what had happened.

"Have a good walk?" Sam asked innocently.

Dean didn't even blink. "Yep. Great. Gonna do it more often."

His eyes slid to Hermione in the most obvious, unsubtle way imaginable.

Hermione rolled her eyes so hard she nearly saw her own brain.

Sam bit his cheek to keep from laughing.

Dean sipped his coffee like the picture of innocence.

And absolutely no one believed him.