The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER SIXTY

Page count: 11

"Remember what I told you," Hermione said firmly, standing by the Floo, hands on her hips like she expected trouble — specifically Dean-shaped trouble.

"I know," Dean sighed, "best behaviour."

"That's for the Daily Prophet," Hermione corrected sharply. "With Luna, you don't need to pretend you're a saint — she already watched you shoot Ronald. The damage is done."

Sam snorted from the armchair.

Hermione continued, "Luna's a little odd — wonderfully odd — and I guarantee you will never meet anyone like her again."

Just as Dean opened his mouth — probably to ask whether "odd" meant "dangerous" — the fireplace roared green and Luna stepped out... wearing an outfit that looked like a cross between a Victorian explorer, a hippie, and a Quidditch commentator who'd lost a bet.

Dean and Sam shared identical what the hell is that? looks and slowly turned toward Hermione.

Hermione gave a tiny shake of her head: Don't ask. Don't even breathe the question.

"Luna," Hermione greeted warmly. "Thank you for doing this for us."

"Not a problem, Hermione," Luna said dreamily. "We're family. Daddy would be terribly disappointed if I didn't help."

Hermione hugged her — and then immediately reached for the baby.

"Well, thank you anyway. Now give me my Godson."

Luna laughed as Hermione practically yoinked Scorpius from her arms.

"Hi, handsome," Hermione cooed, all smiles and soft eyes, bouncing the baby gently. "Who's the most handsome boy? Yes, you are. Aunt Hermione could just eat you up!"

Dean stared like someone had just unplugged his brain.

His wife — the witch who had thrown exploding curses, back-talked demons, lectured him about magical safety, and punched a werewolf — was suddenly... fluffy?

He'd married a girl.

He leaned toward Sam.

"She's been replaced," Dean whispered, horrified. "This isn't my Hermione. This is a pod person."

Sam choked on his own laughter.

Hermione caught them staring. "What?" she snapped suspiciously.

Ah yes. That was his Hermione. The other one must've been borrowed from a parenting commercial.

"Nothing," Sam managed, still grinning.

She gave them a narrow-eyed look before turning right back into Auntie Hermione mode.

"I might just steal you," she told the baby. "Would you like to live with Aunt Hermione, hmm?"

Dean's shoulders loosened. Something warm settled in his chest as he watched her. She looked genuinely happy — radiant, even — like holding that baby unlocked something inside her he didn't get to see often enough.

His gaze drifted to her stomach before he even realised. Maybe... maybe it wouldn't be long.

Sam saw it — the softening, the hope, the way Dean's entire posture shifted — and tried not to smile.

Tried and failed.

Hermione finally remembered the living humans around her. "Luna, you remember Dean and Sam."