SPN/HP: John/Mary, PG
Title: One Thing
Fandom: SPN/HP
Pairing: John/Mary
Rating: PG
Word Count: 817
Summary: The Winchesters weren't much different than other wizarding families...
Notes: This is entirely cracked out but in a good way. Thanks to kashmir1 for the speedy beta.
The Winchesters weren’t much different than other wizarding families, even though on the inside it seemed like they were fucked beyond comprehension. That’s just the way the wizarding world was, especially after Voldemort’s reign. No one knew what really happened to him, but he had been gone for over ten years, so most people pushed their memories of his wickedness into the dark corners of their minds. Sure, there was a big celebration when Voldemort’s robes and wand were found just outside Godric’s Hollow, but no one could fathom what happened to him.
Eventually the dark marks faded, though traces of ink remained, forever burnt into the forearms of the Death Eaters. His followers had quietly disbanded, most able to escape the prosecution they deserved. The Ministry of Magic could hardly deal with the war against Voldemort, and they had even less to do with the aftermath. Known Death Eaters were able to lie and manipulate their way out of Azkaban, and their children blended in with the other students at Hogwarts.
The pain of losing a loved one never really went away, though, especially if you were John Winchester. The wizard gave up his job at the Ministry and dedicated his time (and a large portion of his inheritance) to finding out where Voldemort was hiding. There was no way he’d actually died, pure evil didn’t just up and die. And hell if John Winchester wasn’t going to be involved in Voldemort’s downfall. There were signs, not out in the open, but easy enough to find if you knew what to look for. John was a man hell bent on revenge, and he could read the signs.
Mary Winchester had won John’s heart during the middle of year three. Being a Gryffindor, John hadn’t seen much of the Hufflepuff beauty before he took up Divination. She brightened up the room and clouded his mind with the soft scent of honey and lavender instead of crystal balls and tea leaves. By the Christmas holidays, he was in love.
Of course, Mary didn’t believe him at first. There was that three week span during their fifth year when she dated some too-tall, not good enough Ravenclaw, that had John wringing his hands and planning duels. She gave in during their sixth year and wore the most amazingly soft and sunflower yellow dress to the Yule Ball. Just the sight of her with ringlets in her hair and a thin strand of gold around her neck was enough to make John hers for life.
It was a small wedding ceremony, just a gathering of friends in Mary’s backyard. Her mom had charmed fairy lights to float in the trees, and her dad transfigured their rose bushes into an arbor. The wedding could have been held in Knockturn Alley for all John cared; he just needed Mary. He’d barely been able to get the words out when she slipped her small hands into his, took the white gold band onto her finger. Her eyes got misty when she slid his ring on, and she brought his fingers up to her mouth, pressing a light kiss against the metal.
The newlyweds moved into an airy house in the country, slightly rickety but held together with hope and magic. By the time Dean came along, the gardens were overflowing with yellow roses and lawn gnomes, and John had a secure position in the Ministry. Little Sammy was, well, not exactly an accident, more of an unexpected blessing. He was born with a full head of hair and a piercing shriek that rivaled the shack just off the Hogwarts grounds.
The moment Mary handed Sammy - wrapped in yards of fluffy fabric - to Dean, and the little boy had stared down at his brother in awe, John knew his family was complete.
And the night that John came home late to find Dean crying in their front yard, crouched beneath the rose bushes with a sleeping Sam in his lap, John knew he’d lost everything. He found Mary in their bedroom, her white nightgown tattered and her face turned up in a horrible grimace. Later, Dean would tell him about the pale green light and bone chilling laughter he’d heard, but that didn’t matter. John knew who took his Mary away from him, and he was going to do everything he could to ruin that monster.
The Winchesters weren’t much different than other wizarding families, even though on the inside it seemed like they were fucked beyond comprehension. They were like every other broken down family in England. You’d be hard pressed to find a family that wasn’t missing at least one member, didn’t have at least one gaping hole in its mist. The one thing that made the Winchesters different was that they had a mission, a plan, and most of all John fucking Winchester.
Voldemort wouldn’t know what hit him.
Fandom: SPN/HP
Pairing: John/Mary
Rating: PG
Word Count: 817
Summary: The Winchesters weren't much different than other wizarding families...
Notes: This is entirely cracked out but in a good way. Thanks to kashmir1 for the speedy beta.
The Winchesters weren’t much different than other wizarding families, even though on the inside it seemed like they were fucked beyond comprehension. That’s just the way the wizarding world was, especially after Voldemort’s reign. No one knew what really happened to him, but he had been gone for over ten years, so most people pushed their memories of his wickedness into the dark corners of their minds. Sure, there was a big celebration when Voldemort’s robes and wand were found just outside Godric’s Hollow, but no one could fathom what happened to him.
Eventually the dark marks faded, though traces of ink remained, forever burnt into the forearms of the Death Eaters. His followers had quietly disbanded, most able to escape the prosecution they deserved. The Ministry of Magic could hardly deal with the war against Voldemort, and they had even less to do with the aftermath. Known Death Eaters were able to lie and manipulate their way out of Azkaban, and their children blended in with the other students at Hogwarts.
The pain of losing a loved one never really went away, though, especially if you were John Winchester. The wizard gave up his job at the Ministry and dedicated his time (and a large portion of his inheritance) to finding out where Voldemort was hiding. There was no way he’d actually died, pure evil didn’t just up and die. And hell if John Winchester wasn’t going to be involved in Voldemort’s downfall. There were signs, not out in the open, but easy enough to find if you knew what to look for. John was a man hell bent on revenge, and he could read the signs.
Mary Winchester had won John’s heart during the middle of year three. Being a Gryffindor, John hadn’t seen much of the Hufflepuff beauty before he took up Divination. She brightened up the room and clouded his mind with the soft scent of honey and lavender instead of crystal balls and tea leaves. By the Christmas holidays, he was in love.
Of course, Mary didn’t believe him at first. There was that three week span during their fifth year when she dated some too-tall, not good enough Ravenclaw, that had John wringing his hands and planning duels. She gave in during their sixth year and wore the most amazingly soft and sunflower yellow dress to the Yule Ball. Just the sight of her with ringlets in her hair and a thin strand of gold around her neck was enough to make John hers for life.
It was a small wedding ceremony, just a gathering of friends in Mary’s backyard. Her mom had charmed fairy lights to float in the trees, and her dad transfigured their rose bushes into an arbor. The wedding could have been held in Knockturn Alley for all John cared; he just needed Mary. He’d barely been able to get the words out when she slipped her small hands into his, took the white gold band onto her finger. Her eyes got misty when she slid his ring on, and she brought his fingers up to her mouth, pressing a light kiss against the metal.
The newlyweds moved into an airy house in the country, slightly rickety but held together with hope and magic. By the time Dean came along, the gardens were overflowing with yellow roses and lawn gnomes, and John had a secure position in the Ministry. Little Sammy was, well, not exactly an accident, more of an unexpected blessing. He was born with a full head of hair and a piercing shriek that rivaled the shack just off the Hogwarts grounds.
The moment Mary handed Sammy - wrapped in yards of fluffy fabric - to Dean, and the little boy had stared down at his brother in awe, John knew his family was complete.
And the night that John came home late to find Dean crying in their front yard, crouched beneath the rose bushes with a sleeping Sam in his lap, John knew he’d lost everything. He found Mary in their bedroom, her white nightgown tattered and her face turned up in a horrible grimace. Later, Dean would tell him about the pale green light and bone chilling laughter he’d heard, but that didn’t matter. John knew who took his Mary away from him, and he was going to do everything he could to ruin that monster.
The Winchesters weren’t much different than other wizarding families, even though on the inside it seemed like they were fucked beyond comprehension. They were like every other broken down family in England. You’d be hard pressed to find a family that wasn’t missing at least one member, didn’t have at least one gaping hole in its mist. The one thing that made the Winchesters different was that they had a mission, a plan, and most of all John fucking Winchester.
Voldemort wouldn’t know what hit him.