Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Supernatural are not mine. I'm not making any money from this, it is simply for my own enjoyment. Hope you enjoy it as well.

Chapter one.

Hermione stared at the phone cradled in her palm and tried not to throw up. He was dead, her real father; the man she both idolized and hated in equal measures. It scared her beyond anything that she had ever seen. The man had been such an incredible force; indestructible. And now he was gone.

She had to call them, had to hear their voices, had to know that they were okay. Of course it was a good chance that they were; the yellow eyed man wouldn't have wasted the opportunity to gloat about something like that. They were alive, they had to be.

She quickly dialed the memorized number and crossed her fingers as she waited for a miracle.
'Hello.' A deep gruff voice answered and she let go off the breath she had been holding, almost crying in relief.

'Dean.' Her voice trembled and she took a steadying breath trying to get herself under control. This was her big brother, one she hadn't spoken to in years, not since she had gotten her letter and been expelled from the family. The anger at that was still there but she put it to the back of her mind, there were more important things going on here then whether her family loved her or not.

'Hermione.' The voice was wary, and she almost snapped at it, who else would it be.

'He's dead.' She didn't make it a question, couldn't force herself to ask something that she knew. Couldn't let herself hope when her heart was already bleeding within her chest.

'Yeah dad's dead.' The voice was angry and biting, and pained, and so dean that the tears fell without her knowing, because this was her big brother who had just lost his father, his commanding officer and the man who guided him. He must be so lost.

'You and Sam alright?' She tried to go for nonchalant, but feared that it came out scared and tight.

'Yeah, we're still kicking around.' His voice had gone sympathetic, because dean knew what family meant. Blood was blood and it didn't matter what happened, family always mattered.

'You didn't call.' It was accusatory, and petty given everything else , but she didn't care. Dean was meant to know what it meant.

'How did you find out?' Because denying the obvious would only have made her mad, and saying that they were going to would have been a lie.

'A man came up to me today, He told me that he had killed my daddy, had sent him straight to hell, and that I could go and thank my brothers for that. He told me that I had better be careful because I might just be next. ' He had told her more than that, offered her things, threatened her, asked her to join him. But all she could focus on was that her daddy was dead and probably in hell, and this sonovabitch had done it. She has whipped out her wand and stunned the man. The black smoke had exploded from the man's mouth and dissipated into the air. She had been left alone with an unconscious, unpossessed man, and she had only moved when the owl had flown in through the open window, warning her that magic was not to be done outside of Hogwarts for fear of expulsion.

'Are you hurt, did he hurt you?' the voice had become frantic and loud, and she held the receiver away from her ear and waited for the noise to die down.

'I'm fine, he's gone.' Which wasn't the whole truth because the man was still lying on the kitchen floor, stunned where he had landed, although she was sure the danger had passed with the exit of the black smoke. She wasn't even sure how he had gotten into the house, just happy that her parent's were still at work.

'Hermione, what's happened?' Sam had obviously wrestled the phone from Dean's grip, he sounded calmer. Of course that didn't mean he was, he just had the calming crazy people voice down.

'Sam, I'm fine. Tell me what's happening.' She needed to know, needed to know whether her family was in danger, whether her Winchester blood was going to get her loved one's killed as it was want to do. She swallowed the scream of frustration that was crawling up her throat. It wouldn't do to lose it. She had to be calm and rational and sort this out. Because there was already one war she was involved in, she didn't think she could handle being thrust into another one, was afraid that the choice had been taken away from her already.

Her brother was silent. Her leg began to twitch in anticipation, in worry.

'Dad was killed by the thing that killed our mother.' Because of course that had always separated them, the woman that so ruled her father's side of the family wasn't her mother. Her mother was English and a dentist, and alive. It had always been a great divide between them all, that kind of jealousy. It had been one of her father's excuses for sending her away. He didn't want to put her mother in danger. Little good it had done, considering she put her mother in danger every day, just for being herself, for having her friends. It made her sad.

'So he said, are you still hunting him?' Stupid question, given the Winchester penchant for revenge.

'Yes, do you think he would stick around?' As if she had any great insight into the monster. Though she couldn't say yes, it might bring them to her. She ached to see them, to just be with her brothers once again, tell them her fears, how she was in a war and was afraid she wasn't going to make it. How she was scared she would never even see her family again. How she wanted to wail in grief that her daddy was dead, the man that had taught her to shoot and about ghosts and monsters and how to fear, and how to kill . How she loved him, despite his betrayal, how she loved them all.

'No I think he was just gloating, just taunting you that he knew that I was alive, that I existed; just an idle threat.' Sam's hmm told her that he didn't believe that anymore then she did. 'it doesn't matter anyway, I shall be leaving in two days for somewhere that I doubt he will be able to get to. I shall set protections on my parents but he won't be able to get to me, I just thought you should know.' She wanted this conversation to end, she hadn't spoken to them in years, had only talked to Sam once since she had been eleven, when he was drunk and broken and had been kicked out of the family just like her; hadn't spoken to Dean or her father. It was awkward and hard and she wanted it done.

'I suppose that could be true, but look if you want to come here you're more than welcome to, I mean you're on summer holidays right? You could come and spend them with us.' He babbled, it was adorable and he was offering the one thing that she had wanted since she had been eleven and alone on a train travelling to a whole new world. She wanted to say yes in that moment, wanted so badly it hurt. But she stopped herself, she had Harry and Ron to think about. The silence over the phone was oppressive, and she wondered what Dean looked like, whether he disapproved of the invitation.

'I'll think about it Sam, I don't know if I can, if I'll be allowed. ' She realized that she probably wouldn't go, probably wouldn't even ask about it, and it made her want it more. She sighed deeply.

'You can come, you know. You're our sister and we would like to have you here, if only for the school holidays.' It was Dean and she knew that admission was a big one, that he would care about her, that she was theirs.

'I'll think about, yeah. I have to go, I l… yeah' she had almost said I love you, but remembered that the Winchester weren't one for blatant affection. Wanted to say it and mean it and have it said back, but knew that probably wouldn't ever happen.

'Yeah, alright. You stay safe and salt the windows and doors, and make sure you're parents know to do it too. And get some holy water. And protect yourself.' He was back to being gruff and practical and it made her miss him terribly. Miss it all, the guns, the blood and violence, the family. It had been simple because the bad guys were monsters that could be taken out with a bullet through the head, or a stake through the heart or a blade through the neck and weren't people with blood as red as hers or kindly professors that turned furry once a month but still called her the smartest witch of her age or traitors with names and stories. The world she lived in was hard and confusing and she wanted simple black and white when everything had been stained grey with humanity.

'Bye Dean.' The phone clicked dead and she breathed a sigh of relief. She looked at the body on her mother's kitchen floor. She needed to get rid of it before her parent's got home from work. She didn't want to involve the magic community, didn't trust the ministry of magic. She called the paramedics, told them of the man that had stumbled to the back door, and passed out on the door step when she had opened the door. How she had dragged him in and checked his breathing and pulse, but he still wouldn't wake up.

She arranged the man so he was lying comfortably, put a pillow under his head and sat down; she cried as she waited; great desperate sobs. The paramedics came and she met them with red dry eyes. They took the man away with no real problems, with no evidence left that he had ever been there. They were gone an hour before her parent's arrived home.

To be continued...