OR Five Digs The Doctor Ruined For River Song, What She Did About It, And How Sonic Screwdrivers Were Involved
Fandom: Doctor Who / Harry Potter Series
Characters / Pairing: Tenth Doctor, River Song, cast of Harry Potter
Summary: Adventures at Hogwarts!
Author's Notes: Written for the lovely kingcreevey for the winning bid at help_haiti. More parts will be forthcoming!
It's never over.
Although his boasting and ego may have stated otherwise, there were, in fact, many places in the universe the Doctor had never traveled to. Despite the longevity of his lifespan and his many years of traveling, it was really impossible for him to be in every place in the universe at all times. And, if he were perfectly honest, he wouldn't want to be. After all, there were many times in the universe that just weren't interesting at all. Like Sundays. No one liked Sundays, nothing ever happened on Sundays. Or Halloween. A fairly festive time of year in America, but everywhere else on the planet generally didn't give a toss about it. And Canada, pretty much for the same reason. Oh, and if he managed everywhere in the universe, it was very likely he'd run into himself. It happened every now and again, and it always felt like remeeting an old uncle you sort of know but you're terribly embarrassed to actually talk to. That, and his younger incarnations were often asking him for money, promising they'd pay him back whenever they got around to their tenth incarnation. And if one more of them commented on how skinny he was…
Earth, however, was very well-traveled by the Doctor. It was his favorite planet, and therefore any risk of boredom (and running into himself) was worth it. At any given moment in history, he could've been in at least three different places on Earth (in fact, on one particular day in 1963 he was in no less than thirteen separate places in the London area alone.)
However, the Doctor had never been to Hogsmeade. He'd never even heard of Hogsmeade, a fact which utterly astounded him. While there were a few places he'd never been to on Earth, there was nowhere he'd not at least heard of.
River, however, had been insistent.
"Hogsmeade. I'm there," she'd said, in that annoyingly knowing way. It verged on smugly knowing, which was usually the Doctor's repertoire.
"There's no such place," the Doctor'd replied, taking her smug and raising it an obstinent.
"Oh, you think so?" She raised a delicately arched eyebrow and forcibly shoved him away from her dig, insisting he go and look a little harder.
"Try not looking for the town," she'd said. "The TARDIS won't pick it up. Try looking for me."
He'd sighed in return. "Professor Song, I say this with all the respect I can possibly give to an archeologist of your standing---I do not want to find you any time soon."
"Flattery will get you everywhere, Sweetie, you know that?" she'd replied, looking very nearly pleased by his words.
Pleased? Why didn't she make any sense? No sense! None at all! And why was she so irresistibly interesting?
He tugged on the hand brake as the TARDIS rounded the bend towards 1997. 1997 wasn't the biggest year, but it was certainly large enough. He initiated a DNA scan for River Song.
- DNA REQUEST: INPUT DNA
With an awkward look at the console, the Doctor reached into his pocket, produced a handkerchief, and wiped his lower lip. That was River's response to his demand as to how he could possibly find her without a DNA sample. Where any other normal human would just prick a finger or offer a prepackaged DNA supply, River had reached up, tugged on the lapels to his suit, and kissed him on the mouth.
She wasn't a poor kisser by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, in another time if the Doctor had any romantic inclination towards anyone at all (perhaps that would be another universe, but don't let's digress off-subject), he might've even enjoyed it. She kissed like an old lover, no hesitation or curiosity. Also, a firm kisser, he normally liked that in a woman. Still! He wasn't even remotely romantically inclined towards Professor Song, so said kisses left him breathless. Uh, breathless with surprise.
"Enough DNA for you?" she asked, the edge of her mouth twisting up into a smirk.
When he found enough air to speak, he managed a simple: "Yeah."
"Good," she'd said. She gave him a push into an access lift to the train station's surface. "Get going, you, I haven't got all of 1997 to wait."
And, as the door closed, she added in a small, guilty-sounding voice: "And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"For what?" he'd asked, but the door was already closed.
- DNA MATCH FOUND. INITIATING LANDING.
The Doctor clung to the side of the console as the ship hurtled towards the ground. Always rough, DNA initiated landings. Whatever River and Creevey expected him to find in Hogsmeade or Hogwarts or whatever pig-related place it was, had better be worth all this.
The TARDIS landed with a rather unpleasant-sounding crunch. Outside, he could hear a woman crying out in dismay. River's voice. Oh, brilliant. Her other dig, he assumed.
"Doctor!" she shouted, throwing a fist against the door to the TARDIS. "Get out here this instant!"
She sounded younger, which made sense. And, on the viewscreen, the Doctor could see her hair was shorter, in a messy bob above her shoulders. Wibbly-wobbly, he reminded himself, as he took in a deep breath and pulled open the door.
"Sorry," he said. "Was this your dig site?"
He expected some sort of an irritated retort, something equal parts witty and frustrating. He anticipated that would dissolve into some sort of an argument, and then afterwards she would tell him who, exactly, Creevey was and why he'd want to find him. And then, just maybe, he'd take her out to dinner. Or something.
Instead, she took a step back. "Who the hell are you?"
It was December 13, 1997 and Hermione Granger was convinced that all men in the world were insane. It was actually one of her primary arguments in her term paper "Witches are Wonderful: Why Sex Plays Such a Crucial Part in Weilding Magic". The paper was going quite well despite the fact that Harry and Ronald refused to let her use them as examples in her paper.
"Come on, Herminone," Ron whined. "We've got more to worry about right now than your extra credit!"
"It's not just extra credit, Ronald, it's a controlled study," Hermione informed him, not bothering to look up from her copy of "Women and Magic", the primary text she was using for her research.
"But look, get some perspective," Ron continued. "We've got to figure out what Draco is up to, and now that You-Know-Who is back, we can't get distracted!" Ronald was attempting to put on a serious face, but Hermione knew he simply didn't want her showing him up when he hadn't even picked out a topic yet.
"You should be more concerned about your education, Ronald," Hermione said with an exasperated sigh.
Ronald continued complaining, but Hermione had lost interest. Very purposefully lost interest, in fact, because Ronald would not win this. Ronald was becoming increasingly good at getting under her skin and Hermione did not appreciate it one bit. "Women and Magic" told her that this frustrating feeling was all part of the male wizards' plan to make her a significantly less powerful witch. And, well, Hermione certainly wouldn't take that!
Pointedly, Hermione looked away, over to where Harry was sitting, staring into his butterbeer. He hadn't added much to this conversation at all, and Hermione realized that their friend looked so tired. This summer, the death of Cedric Diggory, it all seemed to weigh on him.
Ron stopped mid-argument and turned to Harry as well. "Would you tell her?"
Harry looked confused. Had he missed the whole argument?
Hermione reached out a hand to take his. "Are you all right, Harry?" she asked.
"Yeah," Harry said, his voice quiet and unconvincing. "Always."
Hermione glanced over the table at Ronald. While frequently oblivious, he at least seemed to realize that his best friend was lying. She stared at him, and then shot her gaze at Harry. Talk to him, she tried to say with her eyes.
Ronald looked utterly confused.
Hermione tried again.
Ronald looked over his shoulder.
"I'm really fine guys," Harry said, pulling his hand away from Hermione. "I just need to find proof of what Draco's doing."
"Not Draco again."
Appearing from the side of the bar, Ginny gave Harry a winning smile as she slid in next to them. Hermione saw Harry's shoulders relax with her arrival, and it made Hermione's heart soar. Had Harry finally noticed Ginny? Or was he, like his oblivious best friend, just another stereotypical male?
"Not much else to talk about is there?" the aforementioned best friend said, looking positively awkward at his sister's arrival.
"Well, Colin told me Professor Song is having a pretty bad argument outside," Ginny said.
From any other student, Colin included, Hermione would've seen them as being a gossipy busybody. But Ginny was managing what Hermione and Ron could not: distracting Harry from his troubles.
"What about?" Harry asked. He stood and peered out a nearby window. As Ginny had said, Professor Song was engaged in a very serious debate with a skinny man in a pinstripe suit. Hermione didn't care for Professor Song. The class she taught, "History of Modern Squibs in London", had looked interesting when Hermione signed up, but Professor Song, a self-proclaimed Squib, had spent almost no time on the magical world at all, focusing more on the history part of her lessons. Hermione had no idea how that class ever fit into the magical world at all. Why would Dumbledore approve it?
Harry, who opted out of her class like Ronald had, seemed more interested in the argument than in the professor herself.
"She doesn't look happy," Harry said, his voice very worried. Everyone, to him, was a potential threat—even a mild-mannered Squib could be violently dangerous if she was working with the wrong people. Or, in this case, arguing.
"Looks like they're both in trouble," Ron pointed out. Professor McGonagall had approached the two arguing people. Song hadn't relaxed, though she stopped shouting. The man, however, continued shouting, his temper much less controlled in.
"Never seen him before," Harry said.
Ginny agreed. "He's quite dishy." He was much too skinny for Hermione's taste, but every male over the age of 15 seemed to be attractive to Ginny lately.
Ronald and Harry shot Ginny an uncomfortable look, but Ginny continued staring outside, a grin on her face.
"Let's go outside," Hermione suggested. "See what they're talking about."
Dropping a few galleons on the table, the foursome headed to the door. Hermione at what point during their years together did they suddenly become so perfectly in sync? They knew what they had to do and they just did it. In this case, it was to scout out a potential threat.
Once the door was opened, the regular silence spell that was settled over the bar was suddenly broken. The sound of Professor Song arguing with the skinny man came barreling into the room.
"This man is impersonating---"
"I'm not impersonating anyone---"
"Damaged my study, the skinny prat---"
McGonagall's calm voice purred in between them. "Professor Song! Is that really necessary while we're surrounded by students?"
"Yeah," the skinny man said, pointing at first to Professor Song, then around them to the students. "Surrounded by students of---what…school? There shouldn't be any schools within four hundred miles of this place."
"Are you attempting to say you don't know what school you're nearby?" Professor McGonagall asked, her voice raising in surprise.
"That is what the 'what school' bit implied," the man said, irritably.
Professor Song snorted. "I'll give you that," she said. "The Doctor never knows where he's landing, either."
"I am the Doctor," the skinny man snapped. "Now, which school is this?"
Professor McGonagall shook her head in surprise. "Why, Hogwarts, of course."
The man (the Doctor, Hermione inferred), suddenly looked tremendously excited. It struck Hermione as somewhat off-putting, considering how angry he'd been just moments earlier. Who was he? And how did Professor Song know him?
"And there's a Creevey who works there, yeah?" he asked. Creevey? Hermione glanced over her shoulder, trying to find Colin. She hadn't really spoken much to him outside of the DA, but there was too much going on to worry about socializing. Not that Hermione put a good deal of stock into it.
Professor Song and Professor McGonagall exchanged a look. "There's a student," Professor Song said. "Colin."
"Colin Creevey." the Doctor said, speaking the name as though it were some sort of unusual tasting wine.
As if on cue, the aforementioned fourth year came bustling out of the building between Ginny and Hermione, his blond hair sticking up in all sorts of directions and his cheeks rosy from the butterbeer. "Did someone say my name?" he asked. "Professor?"
Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow at the boy, then again at the foursome who'd been watching the scene. Professor Song leaned in, whispering something to the older professor. After a moment, McGonagall gestured to them.
"You five," she said. "Come with me." And she turned to the Doctor. "And you."
"Why's it always us?" Ron complained. It was true, Hermione supposed. They were always getting in one scrape or another. But why would McGonagall be interested in them? There were dozens of students watching the scene.
The Doctor nodded. "That's what I always say."