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SPN/HP: Splinching People, Cursing Things
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comment_fic during the wee hours of morning. But, as ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lovestories so rightly put it, every fandom needs a Harry Potter AU. That is my excuse for the following 978 words of CRACKITY CRACK CRACK.
Splinching People, Cursing Things
Supernatural. Dean, Cas (Sam, Ash, Jo, Bobby). PG.
Three times Cas was an utter dorkwad at Hogwarts, and one time he wasn't.
i.
Once, Sam asked him, "Why are you such BFFs with Castiel anyway? He doesn't really seem like your type," and Dean explained that Cas was the only other person in Hufflepuff who wasn't a total dorkwad. Sam had rolled his eyes and gave the obligatory half-hearted muttering about house stereotypes, then went back to reading Hogwarts: A History, the giant nerd.
Cas isn't a total dorkwad, but sometimes he comes close, like when he says he doesn't want to watch the quidditch game because he wants to read up on apparating instead. After all, the lessons start later this week.
"Are you serious?" Dean demands. "It's Hufflepuff versus Slytherin, and you would rather hit the books?"
"I thought you didn't care about interhouse rivalries," Cas says, narrowing his eyes.
"This isn't about interhouse rivalry, it's about sibling rivalry. When we win this game, we'll torture Sam about it and enjoy how much he pretends he doesn't care. Come on, Cas." Dean snatches the book from Cas's hands, ignoring his noise of protest. "Apparating will be here when you get back."
"But--"
"You'll rock it, don't worry. Come on, dude, we should get there before all the seats are taken."
ii.
Sam's pretty smart for a Slytherin, but he has his dumb moments. Cas not being Dean's type? Please. Has Sam checked himself lately? Dean may have a weakness for leggy brunettes or whatever, but the people he keeps closest to his heart tend to be stubborn as hell and unrelentingly nerdy. Sam and Cas should be glad that Dean's around to mitigate their dorkdom.
Cas should be glad that Dean's around to get him drunk on contraband booze after Hufflepuff wins by a landslide, but then Ash catches sight of something over Dean's shoulder and hisses, "Shit, it's Professor Singer!" Then everyone's trying to hide their bottles and thinking that maybe victory celebrations on the lakeside aren't the most inconspicuous idea after all.
"What are you kids doing here?" Professor Singer asks, giving them the stinkeye. Hogwarts's professor of ancient runes has a magnificent stinkeye.
"Having a picnic," Jo says, at the same time Ash says, "Celebrating the Hufflepuff victory!" and at the same time, Cas says, "Professor, I think you mistranslated the Enochian runes last class."
Dean tries not to roll his eyes at life.
"If this is a picnic, where's your food?" Professor Singer challenges.
"We ate it all," Jo replies, with awkward defiance.
"Your notations for the Enochian rune for 'memory' were not--" Cas says, and Dean elbows him hard.
"You're from Gryffindor, aren'tcha?" Professor Singer asks Jo, who nods. "And you're from Ravenclaw?" he asks Ash, who also nods. "Git."
Jo and Ash git.
Dean and Cas are left alone with their head of house.
"I know you're shit-faced," Professor Singer says.
"Sorry sir--"
"No we're not--!"
"Shut up," Professor Singer snaps. "You guys are a couple of idjits. I'll let this go, just once, 'cos we just won ourselves a quidditch game, but you run back to the castle right now and behave yourselves, you hear me?"
"Yessir," Dean and Cas chorus.
"Scram."
iii.
Sam gripes endlessly about the Slytherin defeat, and by the time he's stopped, Cas has learned to apparate.
Cas is scarily good at it. While everyone struggles to avoid splinching themselves, Cas poofs in and out of existence while the professors ooh and ahh in admiration. Fucking brown-noser.
"Dean," Cas says, apparating half a foot from his face.
"ARGH," Dean responds, and tries not to have a heart attack. "Jesus, I hope you're not gonna make a habit out of that."
Cas tilts his head to the side. "Why would I?"
"That's the fourth time you've apparated like an inch from my face."
"Third," Cas corrects.
"Fourth," Dean insists. "An inch behind me also counts as an inch from my face."
"That makes no sense."
"It makes perfect sense."
Cas sighs.
iv.
But then there's that time Death Eaters laid waste to Hogwarts, and Dean is out there with his wand, of course, throwing curses at as many of the bastards as he can. He's been waiting this. He's been waiting for this for fucking ever, ever since they killed his mother, his father; ever since they killed Pamela and Andy and Adam and so many more, so many fucking more.
Dean's fantasies of vengeance never included writhing in the throes of the cruciatus curse, though. He is aware of his own screaming, distantly, but mostly he is angry at himself for not being able to cut through this fog of pain, to be incapable of ignoring it to take down the enemy. Giving in to pain is so selfish, Dean thinks, and is no way at all to respect the dead. He thinks I'm sorry to everyone he has ever watched die in these dark times. He should be better than this. He should be so much more for them.
Then Dean is dimly aware of a gravelly voice saying, "Expelliarmus," followed by a litany of spells he doesn't recognize, and Dean breathes in harsh gasps as his body slowly realizes that it is no longer in pain. A minute and an eternity later, he is gathered in someone's arms, and a voice says, "Dean? Dean, are you okay?"
They're very blue, those eyes looking at him.
"Fuck," Dean says weakly. "Fuckers."
"We'll get them," Cas promises. "We'll get those sons of bitches," and Dean can't help but smile at that because Cas doesn't swear often, but everyone has their breaking point.
"You're a fucking badass," Dean informs him.
"Come on," Cas says, gripping him tight and helping him to his feet. "Let's find Sam."
"Sam,” Dean slurs in agreement. “Let's kill some fucking Death Eaters."
"Yes," Cas says, as they step over the Death Eater who just crucio'd Dean. "That too."
comment_fic during the wee hours of morning. But, as lovestories so rightly put it, every fandom needs a Harry Potter AU. That is my excuse for the following 978 words of CRACKITY CRACK CRACK.Splinching People, Cursing Things
Supernatural. Dean, Cas (Sam, Ash, Jo, Bobby). PG.
Three times Cas was an utter dorkwad at Hogwarts, and one time he wasn't.
i.
Once, Sam asked him, "Why are you such BFFs with Castiel anyway? He doesn't really seem like your type," and Dean explained that Cas was the only other person in Hufflepuff who wasn't a total dorkwad. Sam had rolled his eyes and gave the obligatory half-hearted muttering about house stereotypes, then went back to reading Hogwarts: A History, the giant nerd.
Cas isn't a total dorkwad, but sometimes he comes close, like when he says he doesn't want to watch the quidditch game because he wants to read up on apparating instead. After all, the lessons start later this week.
"Are you serious?" Dean demands. "It's Hufflepuff versus Slytherin, and you would rather hit the books?"
"I thought you didn't care about interhouse rivalries," Cas says, narrowing his eyes.
"This isn't about interhouse rivalry, it's about sibling rivalry. When we win this game, we'll torture Sam about it and enjoy how much he pretends he doesn't care. Come on, Cas." Dean snatches the book from Cas's hands, ignoring his noise of protest. "Apparating will be here when you get back."
"But--"
"You'll rock it, don't worry. Come on, dude, we should get there before all the seats are taken."
ii.
Sam's pretty smart for a Slytherin, but he has his dumb moments. Cas not being Dean's type? Please. Has Sam checked himself lately? Dean may have a weakness for leggy brunettes or whatever, but the people he keeps closest to his heart tend to be stubborn as hell and unrelentingly nerdy. Sam and Cas should be glad that Dean's around to mitigate their dorkdom.
Cas should be glad that Dean's around to get him drunk on contraband booze after Hufflepuff wins by a landslide, but then Ash catches sight of something over Dean's shoulder and hisses, "Shit, it's Professor Singer!" Then everyone's trying to hide their bottles and thinking that maybe victory celebrations on the lakeside aren't the most inconspicuous idea after all.
"What are you kids doing here?" Professor Singer asks, giving them the stinkeye. Hogwarts's professor of ancient runes has a magnificent stinkeye.
"Having a picnic," Jo says, at the same time Ash says, "Celebrating the Hufflepuff victory!" and at the same time, Cas says, "Professor, I think you mistranslated the Enochian runes last class."
Dean tries not to roll his eyes at life.
"If this is a picnic, where's your food?" Professor Singer challenges.
"We ate it all," Jo replies, with awkward defiance.
"Your notations for the Enochian rune for 'memory' were not--" Cas says, and Dean elbows him hard.
"You're from Gryffindor, aren'tcha?" Professor Singer asks Jo, who nods. "And you're from Ravenclaw?" he asks Ash, who also nods. "Git."
Jo and Ash git.
Dean and Cas are left alone with their head of house.
"I know you're shit-faced," Professor Singer says.
"Sorry sir--"
"No we're not--!"
"Shut up," Professor Singer snaps. "You guys are a couple of idjits. I'll let this go, just once, 'cos we just won ourselves a quidditch game, but you run back to the castle right now and behave yourselves, you hear me?"
"Yessir," Dean and Cas chorus.
"Scram."
iii.
Sam gripes endlessly about the Slytherin defeat, and by the time he's stopped, Cas has learned to apparate.
Cas is scarily good at it. While everyone struggles to avoid splinching themselves, Cas poofs in and out of existence while the professors ooh and ahh in admiration. Fucking brown-noser.
"Dean," Cas says, apparating half a foot from his face.
"ARGH," Dean responds, and tries not to have a heart attack. "Jesus, I hope you're not gonna make a habit out of that."
Cas tilts his head to the side. "Why would I?"
"That's the fourth time you've apparated like an inch from my face."
"Third," Cas corrects.
"Fourth," Dean insists. "An inch behind me also counts as an inch from my face."
"That makes no sense."
"It makes perfect sense."
Cas sighs.
iv.
But then there's that time Death Eaters laid waste to Hogwarts, and Dean is out there with his wand, of course, throwing curses at as many of the bastards as he can. He's been waiting this. He's been waiting for this for fucking ever, ever since they killed his mother, his father; ever since they killed Pamela and Andy and Adam and so many more, so many fucking more.
Dean's fantasies of vengeance never included writhing in the throes of the cruciatus curse, though. He is aware of his own screaming, distantly, but mostly he is angry at himself for not being able to cut through this fog of pain, to be incapable of ignoring it to take down the enemy. Giving in to pain is so selfish, Dean thinks, and is no way at all to respect the dead. He thinks I'm sorry to everyone he has ever watched die in these dark times. He should be better than this. He should be so much more for them.
Then Dean is dimly aware of a gravelly voice saying, "Expelliarmus," followed by a litany of spells he doesn't recognize, and Dean breathes in harsh gasps as his body slowly realizes that it is no longer in pain. A minute and an eternity later, he is gathered in someone's arms, and a voice says, "Dean? Dean, are you okay?"
They're very blue, those eyes looking at him.
"Fuck," Dean says weakly. "Fuckers."
"We'll get them," Cas promises. "We'll get those sons of bitches," and Dean can't help but smile at that because Cas doesn't swear often, but everyone has their breaking point.
"You're a fucking badass," Dean informs him.
"Come on," Cas says, gripping him tight and helping him to his feet. "Let's find Sam."
"Sam,” Dean slurs in agreement. “Let's kill some fucking Death Eaters."
"Yes," Cas says, as they step over the Death Eater who just crucio'd Dean. "That too."
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YES, LOYAL AND HARDWORKING IS OUR DEAN. *high-five* Thank you!