The Witch and The Hunters

CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT

Page count: 17

One month later...

"Honestly, Dean, I'm fine," Hermione said, her gaze drifting across the neat rows of cakes and pastries displayed in the bakery window. "There's nothing for you to worry about. You and Sam deal with the Vampires—I'll meet you back at the motel."

"I don't like leaving you alone," he replied, tension evident in his voice.

"But I'm not alone," she countered gently, resting a hand over the curve of her stomach. "I've got Xander with me." She hummed softly when her eyes settled on the cake she wanted. "I'm just about to pop into the bakery. I'll pick something up for you and Sam, then do a little shopping. I was hoping to see some of the sights, but my feet are starting to ache, so I won't be out long."

"You let me know when you're back safe."

"No," she said immediately. "I don't want to distract you if things get messy. I'll call Mimsy—she'll take me straight back to the motel, so you know I'll be safe. You can call me once you're done. You need to stay focused."

There was a pause on the line before he relented. "Fine. I'll see you soon."

"You will," she promised.

They exchanged goodbyes, and Hermione snapped the phone shut, slipping it into her jacket pocket before stepping inside the bakery.

She emerged a few minutes later with her chosen cake tucked carefully under her arm, along with a couple more for later—and for the brothers. Content, she began to stroll down the street, window-shopping as she ate, careful not to rush.

It had been a month since they'd officially moved into the house, and it was everything she'd dreamed of. They'd all settled in with surprising ease—even Bobby had stopped grumbling about being "abducted and held against his will" after a week. He spent most of his time in the library now, making full use of her magical texts while continuing to run Hunter's Information Central as though nothing had changed.

The Winchesters had spent the first week simply being there—exploring their new home, enjoying the quiet, and taking comfort in the knowledge that there was nowhere safer on earth. For the first time in years, they weren't looking over their shoulders, weren't waiting for Crowley or some other supernatural threat to find them.

A few days in, they'd hosted a housewarming party. The entire Weasley horde, the Malfoys, and the Potters had Floo'd in to see the house for the first time. The celebration lasted three days.

By the end of it, Hermione had reached her limit.

She'd sent them all home—most of the men drunk, the women unimpressed by their complaints, and the children sulky and reluctant to leave. Even with magic, it took a full day to restore the house to order.

Once the brothers had sobered up—Hermione firmly refusing to provide pain relief or Hangover Potion, on principle—Bobby brought them a case involving a suspected Werewolf. They'd left the next day, and once Hermione confirmed it was supernatural, Dean and Sam handled it.

They were gone for two weeks.

They returned for only a brief respite before heading out again, determined to close as many cases as possible—because once Hermione went into labour, everything would stop.

And for once, that thought didn't fill her with anxiety.

It filled her with anticipation.

Hermione was eight months pregnant, her stomach larger and heavier than ever. Once she reached the nine-month mark, they'd all agreed it would signal the beginning of their hiatus. She was growing more uncomfortable by the day, exhaustion settling deeper into her bones, and she knew that another month of travelling for cases would be impossible.