The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

Page count: 16

Rings.

Three of them.

One was unmistakably a man's — a simple silver band, solid and unadorned. The other two were women's. One, a thin silver band, a square-cut diamond set cleanly in the centre, framed by a halo of smaller stones. The second was slightly thicker, with diamonds set all the way around the band, catching the light no matter how it moved.

Simple. Elegant. Beautiful.

Intentional.

Her breath hitched, tears blurring her vision before she even realised they were there.

When she finally looked up, Dean was no longer standing.

He was on one knee.

Her heart stopped.

He didn't smile. Not yet. He looked nervous — genuinely, terrifyingly nervous — one hand braced against his thigh, the other clenched just enough to give him away.

"I'm not good at speeches," he said quietly. "You know that."

Her lips trembled.

"I know we didn't get a choice," he continued. "Not at the start. And yeah, I know we're married — magic, Heaven, fate, the whole cosmic checklist." A faint huff of a breath. "But we never got to choose it. Not out loud."

He swallowed.

"And now we can."

Her chest ached.

"You cleared my name. Gave me a future I didn't think I was ever gonna have." His voice roughened. "I don't want you just tied to me by law or spells or destiny. I want you tied to me because you want to be. In every world that matters."

He looked up at her fully then.

"I want to stand in front of the people we love and say it. Say you're my wife — because you chose me." His voice broke, just slightly. "So... will you marry me? For real. Willingly. Knowing exactly who I am."

Tears were streaming down her face now. She couldn't speak.

She nodded. Once. Hard.

Dean let out a breath that sounded like he'd been holding it for years.

He stood, cupped her face, kissed her like the world had narrowed to just the two of them — then pulled her into his chest, holding her tight, forehead pressed to hers.

A flash of light broke the moment.

Hermione pulled back, startled — and froze.

Everyone was there.

Mrs Weasley stood nearest, magical camera clutched in her hands, openly sobbing. The women around her weren't doing much better. The men smiled — proud, warm — while the kids old enough to understand were cheering outright.

Harry was grinning like he'd just won something. Draco wore a smug, satisfied smirk. Sam stared, stunned — then broke into a wide, unrestrained grin. Bobby looked shocked for half a second longer... before his expression softened into something unmistakably proud.

Hermione laughed and sobbed at the same time.

Dean took the rings from the box, his hands steadier now. He slid the engagement ring onto her right hand, careful not to disturb the band already there — the one fate had given her.

They barely had time to breathe before they were pulled apart by hugs, hands, and congratulations.

"I'm proud of you," Bobby said gruffly, clapping Dean on the shoulder.