Hello to anyone who's still here! Now lads, I'm really sorry, I realize this is taking way too long to get done, but I have too much going on in my life. I've moved to another country (again), and it's all very complicated for me and theres's no free time whatsoever except for that after midnight – but I sleep require sleep to be able to function and write more or this lame slashy shite…
Anyway, here's another part, Sam's POV, this time. I can't promise I'll get this story done soon, but I promise I'll get it done someday. I can definitely promise that reviews will quicken the process up, though…
Enjoy
***HPSPN***
Meet Malfoy.
Speaking to Hermione turned out to be far more exciting than Sam could ever imagine talking to a witch, or rather, a woman, would be. At least since Jessica, but that now seemed several lifetimes ago. Apart from being very pleasant to talk to (after having calmed down), Hermione turned out to be amazingly sharp and brilliant, not to mention educated to no end. Sam felt he had finally found someone at his level (or, even far beyond his level) of education and knowledge of all the things he was interested in.
"…And since then," Hermione was saying animatedly, full of excitement, her eyes shining brightly, "house elves are officially free to choose their own master and are entitled to a compensation for their hard work…"
"Guess how happy they are about that…" Ron muttered behind her back quietly, but Hermione turned her face to him, which turned furious in a matter of seconds.
"You have something you want to say, Ronald?" She hissed.
Ron swallowed audibly. "Only that you look unbelievably beautiful today, love!"
Hermione snorted loudly. Ron kept grinning so widely it looked like his whole face was in pain.
"Oh, by the way," Hermione suddenly said, "Where's Sirius?"
"Em…" Harry said and looked at Dean's car. They all turned to see the owl sitting in the driver's seat of the Impala. Sam turned to look at Dean, already expecting it any second now – and…
"Dammit!" Dean yelled. Sam rolled his eyes. "You better hope there's no bird shit anywhere in my baby!"
"Owls are very clever birds, Mr. Winchester," Hermione pointed out, her lips pursed in a thin line. Something told Sam she didn't really take to Dean so far. "And Sirius is a very well-behaved owl!"
"Yeah right, tell that to my trimming!" Dean was saying, studiously checking every inch of the seat where the owl was just sitting. The owl flew out of the car as soon as the door was open and with an indignant huff at Dean flew over and got comfortable on Ron's shoulder. The sight was rather weird, to say the least, seeing a grown man – as tall as Sam himself – with a sophisticated black owl sitting on his shoulder. Sam turned back to Dean, or rather, to Dean's ass sticking out of the car salon, which Dean was still checking for owl shit. Now that was a sentence Sam didn't think he'd ever think.
"Dean come on, I thought you were the one who wanted to show off your exorcism skills."
"Yeah, yeah, coming," Dean said, crawling out of the car, looking both relieved at apparently having found no bird shit, and disappointed at Hermione being right. Sam sighed heavily.
"Alright people!" Dean said, rubbing his hands, "Now let the real magic begin!" And then he looked at Harry. Sam paused: he knew that look; in fact he knew it too well. That was the way Dean usually looked at girls he really wanted to impress.
Oh Dean, what the actual hell…
Dean winked at Harry. And it was not the friendly, partners-in-crime wink as well, it was the deliberately seductive, I'm-really-liking-what-I-see-and-how-about-you Dean-wink. Jesus Christ, what does Dean think he's doing here? He looked at Harry's reaction. Harry was standing there looking confused and slightly flushed, his cheeks the lightest of pink. Sam sighed and shook his head silently; out of the corner of his eyes he saw Ron rolling his eyes and Hermione nudging him with her elbow.
"Wait, Dean," Sam said before his brother started with the Latin. "We haven't found out why the hell Crowley sent all these to get us!"
"Did you hear that?" Dean said to the demon that identified himself as Agares. "What does your douchebag of a boss want from us?"
"I am not at liberty to say," the demon smirked. "And even if I was, I wouldn't have told you two idiots!"
"Sammy, start reading," Dean ordered, his jaw tight and eyes never leaving the demon's. Sam actually, finally, started the exorcism.
"You morons!" Agares yelled, twitching and shaking. "You idiots! We will get to you and we well kill you, just as we killed your mother and your bastard of a father!"
"Shut the hell up!" Dean yelled in response, and Sam tried to read louder. The demon screamed and yelled and shook, until finally it emerged from the body in a concentration of black smoke. Sam fell silent, breathing heavily. Somehow, he felt sleepy and exhausted, even though he slept not so long ago. He thought the reconciliation with Dean and his amulet must have left him emotionally drained.
"Okay, one down, four more to go," Dean said with extremely fake enthusiasm and cheerfulness. Sam badly wanted to touch him and reassure him and tell him it's all going to be fine.
He silently nodded.
"You lads can take a rest if you want?" Harry suggested uncertainly, and Sam looked at him. Harry was frowning and looking at Dean with unhidden concern and worry.
"We are fine," Dean cut him off, not even looking at Harry. The wizard fell silent and didn't speak again.
"This was absolutely brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed, looking awed and excited beyond reason. Sam suddenly felt irrationally proud of himself. She's happily married with kids, you idiot, he reminded himself inwardly. He still felt immensely pleased with himself to have impressed such a brilliant and pretty young witch.
"Oh, that was nothing, really," he muttered modestly and saw Dean rolling his eyes pointedly.
"That was not nothing, Mr. Winchester!" She argued in her unbelievably sexy accent that felt like a symphony to Sam's ears. "I have never seen someone perform an exorcism in such a professional way, not to mention your absolutely excellent knowledge of Latin!"
"I know some Latin!" Said Ron suddenly, and Harry coughed out what sounded like a chuckle. Ron glared at him. "What? I do!"
"Saying spells is not knowing Latin, Ronald," Hermione huffed out, lips immediately pursed. "The only language that you speak besides English is the one you use that resembles it when Harry drags you back home after night out in a pub, and you can be assured I cannot understand a word from you then."
Ron looked down, red as a beet and clearly embarrassed. Harry, on the other hand, seemed deeply amused.
"Well, I understand him just fine after the pub," Harry said, smirking.
"That is because you both make no real conversation. In fact, my three-year-old daughter speaks better English than you two at this stage." Hermione retorted.
"Come on, Hermione," Harry pleaded, his arms going up in pretend surrender. "By the way, did I mention you look extremely beautiful today?"
"Already tried it, mate," Ron muttered, not lifting his head.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Potter!" Hermione said, although Sam could see she fought real hard to keep the corners of her mouth down. There was no real heat left in her arguments, too. "I am mad at you, too!"
"No you're not, you love us!" Ron grinned, seeing his wife was not of any danger anymore.
Hermione just sighed very loudly and rolled her eyes very pointedly, bringing the conversation to an end.
"Come on, Sam, let's finish here," Dean said behind him, and although he still looked tired, he no longer looked angry. In fact, there was a tiny, barely-noticeable smile on his lips.
Maybe, Sam thought, having this crazy bunch of wizards around is not so bad after all. At least for some comic relief…
And they went on with the exorcism.
***HP/SPN***
"Dean, could you give your amulet to Hermione?" Harry said very tentatively after Sam and Dean were finished with the demons. "She will up with a solution."
"No, I couldn't," Dean barked, glaring at Harry. The wizard actually took a step back, his face turning unreadable. Dean's face immediately softened.
"Alright, but just for a minute!" Dean gave up after a moment of thought. Sam shook his head; how could this be happening? Dean has only known this guy for a day, how could he be already demonstrating all those dangerous symptoms of a person with a crush?
Hermione took the amulet with a care a mother would display while holding a newborn baby, obviously having caught up with the fact it was not just a medallion for Dean, but something grater than that. She looked at is this way and that, waved her wand around it, muttering something to herself, her frown getting deeper and deeper.
Finally, she looked up, expression of shame on her face.
"I… I'm so sorry, but I… I don't know what it is," She said very quietly. Ron stared at her as if she'd suddenly grown two heads.
"You don't know?" He repeated incredulously. "I mean, you – Hermione – don't know?!"
"I just said I don't, Ron!"
Harry just stood there silently, chewing on his lip.
"If you don't know, then who the hell does?" Dean exclaimed, clearly dissatisfied with Hermione's services. "And what are we supposed to do with it now?"
"Well, as you said before," Sam spoke to Ron and Harry, "It sends twice the signal as soon it we leave the car – and the amulet, therefore, leaves the car with us – so why don't we just keep it inside the car? At least for now?"
"Yes, that might be the best option for now," Ron agreed, nodding.
"Well," Hermione said even more quietly, suddenly looking rather guilty. "In the meanwhile, I might know just the person that could help…"
"You do?" Ron's eyebrows shot up straight to his hairline. "Who do you mean?"
Harry's eyes widened almost comically.
"Noooooo," He said, and he looked like a character in the movie that had just discovered there was a bomb that he needed to take out within a minute; his hand flew around wildly, "No, no, no, Hermione, no!"
"But Harry –"
"NO! You are not going to call him!" Harry yelled.
"But Harry –"
"Hermione, I said NO! It's out of the question!"
"What am I missing here?" Ron yelled as well, seemingly just to join the fun, looking frantically from Harry to Hermione as if watching a tennis match. "Whom are you lads talking about?"
"MALFOY!" Harry screamed, and Sam gathered that was somebody's name, and Harry was about as thrilled to see that somebody as he would be to see a gynecologist, at least judging by the way he spat the person's name like it had the vilest taste in his mouth.
"WHAT!" Ron scream equally loudly, and the situation was rather quickly becoming absurd. "NO, YOU WEREN'T!" He turned to Hermione with a look of supreme betrayal on his face. "TELL ME YOU WEREN'T THINKING ABOUT CALLING MALFOY, HERMIONE!"
"WELL, WHAT IF I WAS?" Hermione yelled back, cocking her chin, and Sam was really getting tired of all the yelling. "IF YOU FORGOT, HE DEALS EXACTLY WITH THINGS LIKE THAT, HE'S AN UNSPEAKABLE!"
"I DON'T CARE IF HE'S MUHAMMAD BLOODY ALI!" Harry roared, his eyes wild. "I'm NEVER SEEING HIS BLOODY FACE AGAIN!"
"Guys, really," Sam said, rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly, "We should all just calm down and –"
"Is h, like, your ex-boyfriend or something?" Dean said brilliantly.
Everybody shut up so abruptly as if someone turned down a switch. All the eyes turned to stare a Dean, who for some reason decided it was a wonderful idea to open his craphole of a mouth, without filtering out whatever idiocy was waiting to crawl out of it first.
The silence was turning awkward, and Sam felt so embarrassed for both Dean and himself he just wanted to go shut himself in the Impala and sit there alone, for several years possibly. What the hell did Dean think saying that kind of thing, which was a) totally none of his business, and b) was not supposed to be said with an expression of jealous wife on his face! Dammit, Dean, could you stop thinking with your dick for ten seconds?
Sam almost opened his mouth to say something, anything, to just break the impossibly tense silence, when Ron promptly cracked up.
"Ron!" Harry scremed, scandalized and very unmanly, but Ron was already in bits.
"Merlin's balls…" Ron was saying in between his suffocating laughter attacks, "Ex-boyfriend – Malfoy, oh Merlin, Hermione, have you heard this…"
His face red as a beet, Harry was glaring at Ron murderously. Hermione was trying her best to hide her trembling lips, trying to contain her laughter. Harry turned his deadly glare on her.
"I'm sorry, Harry," she said, finally unable to hold herself anymore, "I just imagined you two –"
"Please, stop imagining me and Malfoy!" Harry winced as if he suddenly had a particularly bad toothache. "I don't need that kind of image burned to the inside of my eyelids for ever."
"Harry… mate…" Ron was spitting out words, and suddenly looking about eleven years old. Sam couldn't believe this guy single-handedly took out several men just hours ago. "Now that I think about it… it does make sense… with you two being obsessed with each other… and…"
"Ron, for Merlin's sake, just shut the hell up!" Harry yelled, obviously too out of himself to even come up with a decent comeback. "I wasn't obsessed with him – he was obsessed with me!"
"Riiiight…" Ron grinned cheekily, "Whatever you say, loverboy."
"Ron, that's enough, now," Hermione said, still biting her lip. Harry just kept on glaring at Ron, and if looks could kill, Ron's body would have been rotting by now.
"Harry, what the hell is up with this Malfoy dude?" Dean said, still, still – Sam couldn't believe it – looking jealous and bitchy. "And what the hell is an 'unspeakable'?"
Hermione sighed. "Uspeakable – is a wizard or witch who works in the Department of Mysteries," she explained. "It's a department that deals with –"
"Love, death, and afterlife," Dean finished, frowning. Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, yeah, we know about that one, since we are wanted by it…"
"What?" Hermione said, her eyes going even wider. "You are wanted by the Department of Mysteries?"
"They are not wanted by the Department of Mysteries, they are wanted by the Ministry for research in the Department of Mysteries," Harry said rather coldly.
"I knew the Ministry wanted them, but I hadn't a clue the Department of Mysteries was involved…" Hermione frowned. "Still, I believe Malfoy could help, Harry."
"We are not going to call him!" Harry said again, louder. "And even if we did, he couldn't help, as he is – as you said it yourself – an Unspeakable!"
Seeing Dean's and Sam's questioning looks, Ron hastened to explain, "That means he is tied by a magical law to not disclose any information about what is going on in the Department of Mysteries."
"Yes, but that doesn't mean he couldn't still help us!" Hermione pointed out. "He doesn't have to disclose anything of his work."
"He would have to, seeing as how these are the Winchesters and they deal with angles and demons and whatnot, and the amulet is tied in closely to this fact and –"
"This is not in stone, Harry," Hermione said firmly. Harry looked away, his lips a thin line. "And even if he had to disclose anything – don't forget about the debt."
"Oh he can go and choke on the bloody debt, like hell am I going to use it ever!" Harry raged, getting mad in a matter of seconds. Whatever his history was with that Malfoy guy, Sam could bet it was not the most pleasant. It was obviously a very touchy subject for Harry as well, especially judging by the level of wit in his arguments and comebacks since the topic of Malfoy came up.
"Well, Harry, you are going to have to," Hermione said stonily, looking at him with hard eyes. "I'm sorry, but you dragged me and Ron into this for the purpose of helping these people," she gestured at Sam and Dean, as if there were too many people here to understand who exactly she meant. "We are risking our jobs here, Harry, and our lives, too, so if by helping them it means that you're going to have to see Malfoy, then, well, tough."
She finished and stared at him, breathing loudly, her arms crossed on her chest. Harry looked a lot guiltier by the end of her speech; he looked at Ron for help.
"I'm sorry, mate, you know how excited I am myself to see the bloody git again, but Hermione is right – as you always are, darling!" He finished grinning at Hermione. She rolled her eyes, but smiled.
"What's the story with this Malfoy dude?" Dean voiced his question again, and Sam sighed heavily. Nobody said anything. "Well?"
"It's… complicated," Hermione said curtly.
"Oh, there's nothing complicated about it, Hermione," Ron said interjected. "The bloke's a git and a twat – pardon my French – it's as simple as that."
"Can we please not talk about Malfoy anymore?" Harry said, tired and defeated, and by the way he looked and sounded, Sam could say he was already on board of having Malfoy involved, even if he wasn't too pleased with it.
"Fine, but do you agree we have to contact him?" Hermione pushed one more time.
"Yes, yes, fine, whatever," Harry admitted looking about as pleased as Dean would be before eating a tofu burger. Harry pulled out a smoke and lit it up.
"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, scandalized. "I thought I asked you to not smoke in front of me!"
"Well, I thought I asked you to never contact Malfoy for help, but obviously we can't all get what we want."
"You've never specifically asked for that…" Hermione muttered, and Ron nudged her with his elbow.
"Now you are going to have to bear me smoking a bloody ton of fags to make up for this Malfoy rubbish."
Hermione shook her head.
"Excellent, now what do you think, Harry, Ron? Should I owl him or would a Patronus be more appropriate?"
"Sending him a bag of rat shite is what would be appropriate," Ron said.
"Patronus it is then!" Hermione concluded. "That way it'll be faster and more efficient. Come on, Harry." And she looked at him expectantly.
"What?" He said, blowing the smoke through his nose.
"Send him a Patronus, Harry, come on," Hermione repeated, clearly getting annoyed.
"What? Now I have to that? It was your idea!"
"Yes, but it's not me he owes a Life debt to. And it's not me or Ron who put us all in this situation in the first place, is it?" Hermione said with a no-bullshit smile on her face that spoke of someone working in Law; Sam knew that expression all too well once.
He felt a tiny stab of regret and nostalgia he almost always got when he thought about his hopelessly lost past. He sighed and shook his head to clear it of the thoughts of Stanford and Law school. He was happy enough.
Wasn't he?
"Alright, Hermione, fine!" Harry barked, taking his wand out. Dean looked excited suddenly. "But you gotta stop guilt tripping me into things!"
He did some complicated wand movements and why on earth was Sam thinking about Stanford in the first place? He was perfectly happy here as he was with Dean and the Impala, and even this weird bunch of magic people with them! He was happy and it was all perfect and wonderful, he could keep doing it till the end of his life, he has never been happier and more content before in his entire life…
"Wow," he heard Dean's voice and opened his eyes he hadn't even noticed he closed. There it was again – the beautiful ephemeral animal – the stag – silver-golden, standing there and looking proud and noble and calm. He saw Dean's hand coming up to touch it, and the stag didn't move; it let Dean touch his head and pet him in between his beautiful tree-like horns. "It's amazing," Dean whispered and he looked as happy as Sam felt.
Sam stared. Jesus, he couldn't believe it was that long since he last saw Dean being happy, really truly happy, as he was being at that moment, petting Harry's magical stag. Dean's eyes shone, the patches of silver-golden light dancing in his eyes, as he looked at the animal, small happy smile on his lips.
Sam loved him impossibly.
It was hard to breathe suddenly, this feeling, this bittersweet emotion suffocating him and he swallowed, hard, past the cotton in his mouth. In two giant steps he crossed the distance between him and Dean and got his brother in the most bone-crushing hug he could possibly manage. He expected Dean to fight it, but instead he embraced Sam back with just as much force. They stood like that, embracing each other for what felt like the first time in ages, and Sam felt high on the emotion, on this happiness and his love for Dean, for his dear, sweet, loving Dean, his person, his best friend, his –
Suddenly, it was over as quickly as it started. The overwhelming happiness and warmness were gone as well, and he felt dizzy with the loss of it. He wanted to cry suddenly, fall on the ground and just bawl his eyes out and sob and sob and sob… He stepped away from Dean and the same crushed look on his brother's face, as if all of Dean's dreams and hopes had just been destroyed right in front of him. Sam felt so weary he could fall asleep on the spot. He guessed this was what the drug addicts felt coming down after a fix. He could almost sympathize.
"It's alright," Harry said, putting his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean's arm twitched all the way down from the spot Harry's fingers touched his skin through endless layers of Dean's shirts and jackets. Dean closed his eyes briefly. "Some people have this reaction to a Patronus, it's rare but not unheard of."
Neither Dean nor Sam said anything. If Dean were at least half as embarrassed as Sam felt, he wouldn't say anything for a long time now.
"Actually, the happier you feel, the more crushing an experience with a Dementor is going to feel," Harry added thoughtfully. "We might want to keep an eye out for those, just in case."
"A what now?" Dean said, looking anywhere but at Harry. He still hadn't shrugged off Harry's hand from his shoulder, though.
"A Dementor – it's…" He trailed of, as if not sure how to explain it. "The creatures that feed on people's happiness and souls."
"Wow, they sound really lovely," Dean said, sighing.
"Don't they?" Harry snorted, "Patronus here is originally created to keep the Dementors away, apart from sending Malfoy SOS messages," He glared at Hermione again, but it lacked any actual heat.
"Anyway, if you feel really unhappy and sad, you must immediately tell me," Harry stated.
"Why, are you my personal shrink now?" Dean smirked in a way he must have fancied was seductive and flirty and in reality was ridiculous and lame, Sam thought. "I could tell you all about my deep and sad inner side, you just need to ask."
"No, because that means there is probably a Dementor around," Harry said, the corners of his mouth twitching. Dean made an odd sound – half cough, half choke. Sam could drown in all the awkwardness.
"Hey, Dean," he called, "may I talk to you for a sec? Privately. Please, excuse us."
"Jesus, what now, Sam?" Dean grumbled. "Oh no, and he has the bitch-face on…"
"Let's go over there," Sam said, grabbing Dean's arm and dragging him away from the group so no one could overhear them. They walked for a few minutes. "Now. What the hell do you think you are doing?"
"What do you mean?" Dean said, bored expression on his face.
"Oh don't play dump with me, Dean – although god knows I sometimes think you're not even pretending – I mean Harry!"
"Yeah, what about him?" Dean replied, lips pursing, and whatever Dean liked to say about Sam's bitchface, it clearly ran in the family.
"You know what about him! Can you contain your dick? This is just embarrassing!"
"What?" Dean said, and this time he actually looked a bit confused.
"Your libido, Dean, turn it down! You are not seventeen anymore and this is not high school. We have to be around those people 24/7. Now it just can't go smoothly and quickly if you want to sleep with this guy and make a point of hitting on him every ten seconds in front of his friends!"
There were several emotions flashing on Dean's face almost at once, so quickly that even Sam couldn't tell them for sure, but he thought he saw sadness and even hurt. Dean looked away.
"Sure," Dean said, and it sounded too fake to Sam's ears. "I'm gonna watch my dick, and I'll stop hitting on him. You happy now?" And he turned to walk away. It all suddenly made sense to Sam.
"Wait, wait, wait, Dean," he said, grabbing Dean's elbow and not letting it go. He better make it fast as Dean is already too annoyed. Dean didn't actually look him in the eye. "Dean. Look at me."
Extremely reluctantly, making a whole show out of it, Dean lifted his eyes to meet Sam's. Sam sighed.
"Jesus, Dean, you actually like him."
"No, I don't, the fuck you are talking about!" Dean hissed, turning around frantically to check that no one's listening. It all suddenly reminded Sam of Junior High. "I'm not gay, Sam, shut the hell up!"
"Dean, a moment ago, you admitted you wanted to bang this dude, now you're worried that I'll think you're gay?" Sam said incredulously.
"Well, I'm not! And I don't give a crap about them all, I just want this shit to get over with." Dean said, but Sam thought that it sounded strained even to Dean's own ears. He rolled his eyes; he better leave Dean alone for now, nothing good will come out if he'd continue to push this unbelievably ridiculous conversation.
"Alright, Dean, you're not," Sam agreed finally.
"Oh, I see what you're doing here!" Dean said, getting worked up. "You're just saying that to shut me up!"
"No one's shutting you up, Dean," Sam sighed again; God was he exhausted. "Let's go back or they'll think we are plotting something against them or whatever."
He started to walk back, and Dean joined him reluctantly, and walking a few steps behind him with the purpose to show Sam that he was still pissed. Jesus, what a child. Sam sometimes forgot he was the younger brother there.
But on seeing the wizards still staying next to the Impala, Sam tensed and stopped, spotting a new person. Dean bumped into him from behind.
"What now, Sam?" Dean asked behind his back, sounding extremely irritated.
"Who's that?" Sam pointed to the addition to the group, a very blonde man standing very far apart from the rest of the wizards. He could hear shouting. Dean could hear it, too, apparently, because he started running towards the group like a crazy person. Sam followed him, his gun ready in his hand, just in case the blonde guy was not actually a wizard, but he supposed that was too much to ask.
"Oh, screw wands, I'm just gonna kick your stupid spoiled arse with my bare hands!" Ron was yelling, his wand pointed at the blonde man.
"Right, suits you just fine using those disgusting muggle ways to duel, suppose you took after you dear Mudblood wife?" The man said, drawling the words rather unpleasantly. His wand pointed right back at Ron. Sam and Dean just stood there in between the blond and the rest of the wizards, not sure what to do.
"Oh, I'm gonna KILL you, Malfoy!" Harry shouted his wand flying up to point right at man's – Malfoy's – face.
"Guys, please!" Hermione screamed desperately, but everyone ignored her. "Please, come down. This is not why we are all here!"
"Shut up, Granger!" Malfoy screamed back. "Potter here thinks he could take me in a duel. Still as arrogant as ever, I see. Too bad there's no ol' Dumbledore here to do all your work for you, Potter!"
"You fucking cunt!" Harry yelled, and his wand disappeared from his hand; instead he moved to Malfoy with his fists closed tightly, and Sam doubted he was going to need a wand anymore. "I'm gonna bloody kill you right now!"
Ron and Hermione both grabbed him, trying to make him stop. Harry struggled against them violently, his glare focused solely on Malfoy, as if no one else existed anymore.
"Come on, Potter, sink down to the Mudblood ways to fight. You must be natural, obviously, having a filthy Mudblood mother as an example, and by the way, I forgot what happened to her? Oh, that's right, she got killed just –"
He didn't finish, as all of a sudden, Dean was punching the guy's face, just like that. Malfoy fell down, sprawled on the ground, and Dean just kept punching him.
"Get him off me!" Malfoy screamed, not even trying to fight back for some reason. "Get this filthy moron off me!"
Now Sam didn't usually appreciate anyone but himself calling Dean a moron, but one look at Hermione's pleading face told him he had to make Dean stop. Not really wishing to, he dragged his brother away from Malfoy, whose nose was badly bleeding and right eye was dark blue and purple.
Dean stood, rubbing the knuckles of his hand. Ron was looking at him with sick admiration, as if Dean had just personally took down a legion of armed soldiers.
"That was so cool, mate!" Ron announced, still eyeing Dean in awe. Sam thought Ron must not have had a lot of chances to have a physical fight with someone, having magical wands and all. He must be impressed very easily by the smallest demonstration of physical force and power.
"Thank you," Dean said very modestly, "Now I've no damn idea what 'Mudblood' means, but something tells me – nothing too good, am I right?"
"You are, Dean," Harry said, and there was something in the way he looked at Dean, that told Sam that his brother was not alone in his… 'feelings' or whatever.
"Sam, Dean," Hermione said, obviously trying very hard to get the situation back under control. "Meet Draco Malfoy."