The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Page count: 11

"And now for the personal questions," Castiel announced, snapping them out of their moment.

Hermione stared at him. "Those weren't the personal questions?"

"No."

"And what makes these 'future questions' personal?"

"Sex," he said flatly.

Dean choked on the air he was breathing. Hermione's eyes narrowed into something lethal.

"And why," she asked slowly, "do you want to know about our sex lives?"

"It may be important to what I have discovered."

Hermione muttered something about plucking feathers. "Fine. What do you want to know?"

"I want your comparison between Dean and your previous partners."

Dean blinked. "Wow. Going right for it, huh."

"Why?"

"It may be important to what I have discovered," he repeated.

She sighed and looked at Dean. He shrugged.

"You've already told me all about the clowns you dated," he said. "Nothing you tell him is gonna surprise me."

Hermione turned to Sam and Bobby—both men staring at her with identical "this should be good" eyebrows.

"Things with Dean are...different," she finally said, turning back to Castiel.

"How so?"

"He brings out my feline traits."

Dean smirked. Sam froze mid-blink. Bobby coughed.

"The others didn't?" Castiel pressed.

"No. Well—my eyes changed, but that was it."

"Hang on. Feline traits?" Sam asked, baffled.

Hermione sighed. "During my second year, there was an incident. Accidentally and temporarily turned myself into a cat-human hybrid. Most of the effects vanished, but I still show certain... characteristics. Usually during sex."

Bobby snorted. Sam lost it—full belly laughter, head thrown back.

"When you're quite finished," Hermione snapped, and Sam's laughter died instantly.

"Sorry."

"My point," she continued, "is that with my exes, my eyes were the only thing that changed. With Dean, the traits are stronger—ones I didn't even know I had."

"Such as?" Castiel asked.

"Claws. And purring."

Sam burst out laughing again. "I knew I heard purring. I thought I was going insane."

Both Hermione and Dean turned slow, murderous glares on him. Sam immediately stopped.

"Sorry," he croaked. "Motels have thin walls. If you forget silencing charms, I hear... everything."

"You grow claws?" Castiel asked Hermione.

"Yes," she said through clenched teeth.

Dean stood without a word, turned his back, and lifted his shirt.

Sam and Bobby both swore.

Dean's back was a map of healing claw marks—ragged, deep, unmistakably not human. It looked like he'd fought a cougar and lost... repeatedly.