The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER NINETY-SIX

Page count: 18

Hermione sighed, before tipping her head slightly in greeting, and then turning her eyes back to the couch.

"It's been a while," she said. "I would say it's nice to see you but we both know I would be lying."

His mouth pulled into a smirk and he stepped closer to her, his chest almost touching her back.

"I have missed that smart mouth."

"I doubt any of your employees would ever dare to speak to you the way I do," she replied.

He chuckled at her. "No, they most certainly would not."

She nodded slightly, before tipping her head, gesturing to the couch on display questioningly. "What do you think?"

He titled his head, examining it carefully. "It doesn't suit you."

"I suppose you're right," she sighed.

Her eyes then turned to the table and chairs which she could see further back in the shop, and without a word, she slipped away from the King of Hell and into the small furniture shop, making her way straight over to the table. She knew he followed behind her, despite him not making a single sound in his movements. She ran her fingers along the table, and sized it up, deciding whether or not it would suitable for one of the libraries.

"Solid oak, nice choice," Crowley complimented, before pulling out one of the chairs and sitting himself down, apparently not caring if one of the shop attendants were to come along and ask him to move.

She nodded. "I'm still not sure," she replied.

"And what is to be its purpose?" He asked conversationally.

Hermione looked up at him, her body turned away from him in such a way that he had yet to notice her large stomach that could only be associated with pregnancy.

"If I were to purchase this, I would place it one of the libraries." He raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment. "And whilst I am grateful for your opinion, I am sure you did not come all this way to help me furnish my house. To what, do I owe the pleasure, of a visit from you?"

His mouth twitched. "Well, kidnapping certainly hasn't worked in the past," he replied.

"No, it hasn't," she agreed. "I believe on both occasions you were bested, injured, left alone and frustrated," she said with a smile pulling at her mouth.

"Hence a new approach," he tipped his head. "You might be more willing to answer my questions if I were to show you some respect."

Her eyebrow raised and she snorted. "Respect?" She questioned, walking away from him and a little further forward so she could better see the selection of lamps that were for sale.

"Respect," he confirmed.

"You do not respect me."

"Maybe I do, maybe I don't," he shrugged. "But I can respect that you have the intelligence to have not only bested me once, but twice. I can respect that you have The Winchester brothers wrapped so tightly around your finger, that they are willing to die for you, to protect you at all costs. And I can respect you enough, that you were able to get, Dean Winchester, a notorious man-whore, to put a ring on your pretty little finger and give up his bad habits."

Hermione turned her head to look over her shoulder. "How do you know that we are married?" She questioned, but she didn't sound surprised that he knew.

"Your husband let slip at our last meeting. After that I took it upon myself to go digging further, imagine my surprise when I found a marriage certificate, naming you husband and wife, not even weeks after I knew you had met each other. That certainly was fast," he commented.