Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, Supernatural or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.

Hello! Just a little heads up—this is very alternative universe. I wrote it between seasons 8 and 9 of Supernatural. So anything and everything herein is what any fan would consider completely off the rails of cannon. Give it a chance. You never know. You might like it.

Thank you. Please read and review.

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Chapter One

It had all gone so…wrong. First, she got laid off at the Ministry of Magic, then she found Harry in bed with Ron, but this was only topped off by the fact that Ginny told her that they didn't trust her at all. It had been a horrid week that only seemed to get worse as it went. And now she was in the middle of nowhere, house sitting for a distant cousin that had taken pity on her and allowed her the privilege of taking care of a sorry excuse of a structure with rodents older than she was. And she had come up with that definition when she had been feeling charitable.

It had since started to rain down in droves. Something that she knew very well, as it seemed to start pouring inside the house as well. The roof, she thought, as she put up protective spells to keep the water outside, was about as protective as a single flower against a hurricane. As soon as she was finished, she let out a gusty sigh even as she looked over to what was supposed to be her bed. No, she thought, she was nowhere near done.

It was while she was setting up the house that she thought it might be a good idea to talk out her problems. Even as she thought that, the idea of being thought of as crazy (as talking to one's self was usually one of the first signs of insanity) wasn't her idea of a fun time. Okay, she told herself, think of someone to talk to. Hermione really did put thought into that one. She thought of talking to the ghost of Severus Snape, but the man didn't want to hear her speak in life, never mind in his afterlife.

How about Professor Dumbledore? She decided against that for several reasons, not the least of which she didn't think she could put up with his eyes twinkling so damn merrily—even if only in her imagination.

And that's when she thought that she might have a conversation with God. She actually stopped what she was doing at that point. That wasn't to say that she thought the idea nuts or even a bad idea. It just was that she never was overly religious. That wasn't to say that she didn't believe. It was hard not to believe when you were praying to make it out of a war alive and sane. Well, she made it out alive and she did thank God and even went so far as to donate to several churches anonymously.

But had she prayed since then? She thought it over and went so far as to sit down and think this out. No, not really. She said a small prayer and went to sleep. It was the same little prayer her grandmother had taught her when she was a child.

But at that moment, it really wasn't about religion. She just desperately needed someone to listen.

Looking up, she cleared her throat even as she took note of how the spell work was whisking away the water back to the outside.

"Hello. Uh, I feel very silly doing this, but I thought if there was anyone that would be able to lend me an understanding and compassionate ear at this moment, it would be you." She cleared her throat again. "I've been having a very bad week, as you well know. And I have to say that I've been better." Her head lowered slightly. "I know you have a plan for everyone and it would be presumptuous of me to ask for your personal calendar for what you have in store for me, Sir, but it would be rather lovely not to have such an eventful life at times…"

And that's when something or someone, to be more accurate, fell straight through her roof.

She got up and looked at the man now lying on the floor, muttering to herself, "And something tells me that 'uneventful life' isn't going to be starting anytime soon."

Carefully, she did a few quick diagnostic tests on the fallen individual with a swish of her wand. And as weird as it sounded, all the tests came back clean. She went onto her knees and turned him over. The man's dark blue eyes were open, looking straight up and out of the large hole he had just made in the roof.

"That is a big hole," he said in a low quiet voice.

She turned and looked at it. "Yes, but that is to be expected when a tall man falls through something of the sort." She looked back down at him.

"Why isn't it raining on me?" he asked her, as she helped him to his feet.

"I really don't know what to say," she answered, being completely honest. It wasn't as if he were a muggle, but she couldn't take that chance could she? "Uh, are you a wizard?"

"No, I am an angel of the Lord."

She sat him down, looking at him in shock. "A what?"

"An angel of the Lord."

She looked back at the hole again and murmured, "I'm a witch." When he stiffened, she added, "Not to worry, I'm not evil. I promise." She looked at him once again. "I was born a witch and didn't make a deal with any sort of evil entity to become one." He relaxed at her words, looking back up at the large hole once again.

"What happened?" she asked him, seeing the guilt and pain on his face clearly.

"I was tricked. I-I…" He cleared his throat. "I am thirsty."

"Okay," she murmured, attempting to think of just who he was and why he sounded so shocked by this simple fact that he was thirsty. "You've fallen from grace?"

"I was tricked," he repeated. "We have all fallen…All of us…"

"Oh my God," she breathed, as she took in what he said. "All of the angels? All of you?" He nodded.

Hermione took his hand, caressing it as she attempted to comfort him.

"I am still thirsty," he told her. "And I am confused as to why you feel the need to hold my hand."

"It's a form of comfort," she told him. "That and hugging. My friends have told me that I am what is commonly referred to as a 'big hugger'. I would have embraced you now, but I didn't think you would have been so thrilled with a stranger embracing you."

He tilted his head in thought. "Perhaps after I drink some water you can offer me this hug in a form of comfort, as I try to think of a way to get to the United States so I may help Dean and Sam Winchester."

She gave his hand one last pat as she went over to the cabinet that she converted into a cooler and pulled out a bottle of water that magically refilled itself. Taking off the top, she handed it over to him.

"Sip on it," she told him. "I'll make something to eat and afterwards I'll make the arrangements to go to the United States. Now would you like to go the magical way or the muggle way?"

"Which way is the quickest?" he inquired, as he watched the frizzy haired witch pulling out the makings for cheese, tomato, and bacon sandwiches.

"Magical, of course," she replied.

He frowned a minute as he watched her putting together the food. "Did it ever occur to you that I may be lying about being an angel?"

"Why? Do you want to sound like a mad man?" she inquired of him. She put the food in front of him. "Would you?"

"Having been there in the past, no." She nodded. "But you took me at face value."

She sighed heavily, sitting down next to him as she said, "Tell you what. Given the really bad week I've been having, it might be for the best that you don't make me angry. So I'll say this much, if you are lying—but I seriously doubt that you are—I'll hex you a few times and we can call it even. Sounds fair?" When all he did was stare at her, she added, "I didn't say kill, I said hex. There's a huge difference. And given the fact that I'd more than likely have a crying jag first, I'm pretty sure you'd have time to get away."

"That relieves me greatly," he murmured, taking up one of the sandwiches into his hands.

"The tears throw off my aim," she muttered, making him freeze in the middle of taking a bite. "Yeah, I found that out when I caught my fiancée sleeping with my best friend."

He relaxed at that. "Oh. That would be understandably upsetting."

She let out a long sigh. "It's been a rather awful week." Studying him a moment, she added, "But as bad as it's been for me, yours must be worse."

He chewed thinking that over, swallowed the food and said, "It isn't a competition between us."

"I know. What I'm doing is trying to be sympathetic to your situation." She went over and picked up the plate of food she fixed for herself. "I more than likely did it in the poorest sense of the word, but often times humans use their own experiences as a way to empathize with others." She took a bite of her food. Once she swallowed it, she went on to say, "I can understand where this would be perceived as a contest or even as something rather selfish. But humans, unfortunately, can be rather egocentric."

He finished his food off rather quickly before he said, "I appreciate your comprehension of my need to be told of human behavior. But even so we seemed to have missed something."

"Really?" She frowned, trying to think of what he might be speaking of. "What?"

"My name is Castiel."

Blushing madly, she laughed as she said, "And I'm Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I just wish it were under better circumstances."

TBC…

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There you go. The first chapter is done. Let me know what you think. Thank you for taking your time to read this and have a great day.