Disclaimer: I own nothing! I wish I worked from the BBC, though. If anyone from the BBC reads any of my fanfics, can they treat them as writing samples for a job application please?

Summary: Sequel to Arithmancy. Kinda Draco-centric, but I can't help it, I like the character. Anything you interpret as Mary-suedom in Draco's behaviour is actually paranoia and perfectionism. Not a good combo, I have that myself and it leads me to bad things. Like Arithmancy, this story will make a lot more sense if you have read all the Harry Potter books as well as having seen the relevant Doctor Who episodes. It will also make a great deal more sense if you read Arithmancy first, too.

x x x

June 23rd, 2007: The Year That Never Was

His first, and so far only, mistake had been telling his wife exactly what his new job would entail. She was terribly worried, and she really did have every right to be. He had spent a great deal of time and effort during the election campaign ingratiating himself to his new boss, projecting an outward persona of utter indifference to human pain and suffering. His boss did not know he had a family. Better that way.

His name, at his place of work only, was Damien Weatherby. He had used Damien as an alias once before, but it was long enough ago to be safe again, and he found it fit him comfortably. Weatherby, he chose for personal amusement and the simple fact it strongly reminded him of his role in this business. He was personal assistant to the Prime Minister. Taking phone calls, making appointments, fielding press questions, he was good at this. He did somewhat regret that his favourite reporter could not be at the press conferences, he would love some educated and spiteful banter with Rita again. She was vicious, which was why he admired her work. Anything to upset his worst living enemy.

Harold Saxon was not a particularly cruel boss, in Damien's opinion. He had worked for much worse in the past. His father had taught him to lie, cheat and cause psychological harm. As a teenager he had perfected his ability to hide emotion, and project the illusion of sadistic amusement for all to see. It had been necessary for his survival then, and it was necessary for his job now. It would not do for Mr Saxon to realise Damien was not his real name, nor for him to realise Damien's true intentions. That would be utterly disastrous.

Damien had been given the day off when Mr Saxon had gone to meet with the President and other international leaders. He considered this a good thing, less chance of getting caught in the crossfire. Yes, Damien knew what would happen. It was amusingly similar to a story he had once heard about a girl named Sally Sparrow.

During his day off he wandered into his other place of business. Time Turners were brilliant inventions, two jobs at once and no one missed him. The Ministry of Magic was mostly unchanged in the last decade. The statue of magical brethren had been rebuilt with equality in mind; the house elf in the statue stood in the front of the group with a pendant around its neck boasted proudly with a puffed out chest, the centaur gazed skywards with keen knowing eyes, and the goblin was shown standing atop an anvil with a smelting hammer in hand just as proud as the elf. That was the only visible difference to the building.

Less noticeable differences had sprouted up over the years. Muggle repellents were reduced to only repel those who did not know of the magical world, instead of also repelling Muggles with actual business relating to family members here. Apparation points were now set up in a courtyard instead of inside the foyer. Security was tighter, gone were the days when groups of children could wander into the Department of Mysteries without clearance. Not that that bothered him too much, he was an Unspeakable now.

He approached the security desk, manned by a young man he vaguely remembered had once been a Gryffindor. Dennis Creepy or something to that effect. "Draco Malfoy, I have an appointment to meet with the Auror and Warding departments." he informed the guard.

Dennis took out a device, and placed it on the counter, "Hand here. Wand there." he pointed to a nice hand-shaped indentation on the device, then to a dish which vaguely resembled a set of scales, specifically the dish to Draco's left of the two. Draco complied, and the mechanism of the device shifted from side to side before glowing green and tilting to Draco's right. He was familiar with the procedure, it was to identify that his wand was actually his, and that he was who he said he was. If he was not who he said he was it would glow red, and if the wand was not his it would drop down on the left side. "All clear, then. Third floor, room seven."

"Thank you." Draco said. Politeness was a bad habit he had developed while working for Mr Saxon.

x x x

The Aurors' offices were much the same as the rest of the Ministry building. Three older men and one younger sat on one side of a meeting table. All were from the Warding department. The four Aurors present included Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley, Dean Thomas and an older man whom Draco had never bothered to remember the name of.

Draco arrived, and was pleased to note that while everyone had been waiting he was exactly on time. He was good with time. "To put it in Muggle terms." Draco said calmly, "Shit plus fan equals this afternoon, in about two hours time."

"Anything more detailed?" Ron demanded snarkily.

"Yes, the Muggle Prime Minister will be assasinating the American President, among other world leaders, and taking over the planet with the aid of virtually unstoppable alien minions."

"Alien?" one of the Warders asked, the younger one.

"Extra terrestrial. Not of this earth. Floaty metal balls about the size of a human head with enough weaponry each to wipe out this entire building."

"You're lying." Ron insisted.

"When has the Time Room given false information?" Draco growled.

"Since you're you." Ron retorted.

"He was right about the thing last Christmas." Dean Thomas noted, "But you don't remember that, Ron, cause you were up on the roof the whole time." most of the rest of the room, even Harry, snickered at this, though Draco did his best not do. He didn't want to provoke Weasley. This matter was too important.

"What do you suggest we do, then?" Harry asked coldly.

"That's what they're here for." he indicated the Warders, "We need to increase the strength and mental range of our disillusionments, adjust the parameters of our Muggle repellents, and bring in the Muggleborns and their families before it begins in two hours time." He handed each of the four Warders a report, detailed instructions of what was to be kept out, what was to be kept hidden and exactly how well.

"How do you know when it's gonna happen?" Ron demanded.

"Unspeakable, remember? I don't speak about it."

Ron grumbled, but then thought of something, "Wait a second, you- YOU- are advocating bringing in Muggles?"

"I'm not genocidal. Contrary to popular opinion."

"Meh." Ron muttered, glaring and trying to think of another hole to pick in Draco's announcement. Why the others were going along with this... clearly he'd missed something pretty big at Christmas.

x x x

The next morning, Damien Weatherby arrived on the Valiant, ready for another day's work. While he didn't relish the thought, he did know that if he did die now, he wouldn't stay dead. He could afford to take the risk of being here, but he didn't want to actively upset his boss.

"Good morning, Weatherby." Mr Saxon greeted as Draco stepped onto the bridge of the ship. Much had changed. Fewer people around, a young woman whose name he remembered was Letitia lurked in a corner looking rather subdued but still mutinous. Besides that, all he saw was his boss and the floaty sphere things he'd warned the Wizarding world of.

"What're those? New lamps?" he asked jokingly.

"No, no. Those are my new allies. This way, Damien." and he was led by Mr Saxon to the viewing window, which overlooked London. A chill went up his spine as he saw the city in ruins, and was eternally grateful that he had chosen to remain in his parents' manor house well outside the city instead of moving closer to the Ministry buildings for less distance. Even wizards have to commute.

After a brief moment, during which he allowed only awe to show on his face and not the disgust he felt, Draco murmured, "Sucks to be them."

Mr Saxon laughed at this, "This is why I keep you around, Weatherby." he said with a grin, "I have a lot of organising to do, what with all the resource gathering, building projects, slave morale management. You've got a lot of paperwork ahead of you I'm afraid." Mr Saxon spared a brief glance at Draco and grinned more broadly, "But I'm offering you a raise of sorts. Free access to the canteen and recreational facilities on the Valiant."

"Recreational?" Draco asked, with all the eagerness expected of a willing evil minion.

"Well, there's a gym, a cinema, I think the President brought his X-Box..." Mr Saxon trailed off, "Anything you can find. If you're interested in torture I have the perfect victim downstairs. Just keep your nose- and the rest of you- our of section eight on the lower level."

"Hope it's well labelled, don't want to stumble somewhere restricted by accident, sir." Draco quipped.

"It's well labelled." Mr Saxon said flatly, "And no more of this 'sir' business, Weatherby. From now on, call me Master."

Been there, done that. Draco thought, but when he spoke it was, "Of course, Master."

x x x

Disillusionment charm, check. Time-Turner, check. Wand, check. Parchment and ink, check. Draco wandered, unseen, into the very well labelled section eight on the lower level. He was totally unsurprised to find the TARDIS here, and waved his wand over the parchment. The room was recorded and the dot labelled Draco Malfoy appeared in it. This was his last step, and now the Valient had its own personal Marauder's Map. It had NOT been easy reverse-engineering that map to learn the charms that made it, and less easy to get Potter to loan it to him at that.

Now he could see where the Master was, and it did call him the Master, not Harold Saxon. He also saw the Doctor on the map, a few people with the surname Jones, including the young woman Draco had seen earlier that day.

"Dormiens." and the map turned blank and an illusion spell made it look like a book titled '101 Efficient Filing Methods'. The activation spell was 'titillandus'. He figured that the Master, being more Muggle than the average Muggle when it came to knowledge of Hogwarts, would never get it.

A single twist of the Time-Turner, and Draco quickly apparated back to his new quarters on the Valient just in time to see himself disapparate to go snooping. Illusioned book under his arm, he picked up a stack of paperwork and made to leave the room. He was greeted outside the door by one of the floaty ball-things. He would need to learn what they were called. "Master wishes to see you, Damien Weatherby."

Draco nodded and followed the thing to the Master's new office. It was a big office, near the bridge of the ship. In the corner of the office was a cage holding a man. A very familiar man. The Doctor. Draco made a point of ignoring the Doctor, paying attention only to his boss. "You wanted to see me, Master?" he asked politely.

"Yes, Damien. It had come to my attention that your work for me so far has not just been exemplary, it has been perfect. You might understand, then, that I need to check you aren't a robot or something like that."

"How do you check that?" Draco asked warily.

"You bleed."

Draco blinked a few times, not liking the idea of bleeding very much for two reasons. First, blood made him queasy at the best of times. Second he had heard all about just how many dark rituals use blood and exactly what they can do to the source of said blood. Still, he did not fancy learning what it felt like to be Jack Harkness, so he quickly, but with just the right amount of nervousness, answered, "If you wish, Master."

It was quick and painless, a prick to the finger, and the pin was scratched along a piece of glass and put into a machine. Draco subconsciously sucked on his wounded finger to stop the bleeding, while he watched the machine come up with a green flashing LED and a quick double-beep. "Human, good." the Master answered, "Always have to check."

"If that is all, Master, I have some filing to attend to?" Draco asked, glancing at his watch. He had been with the floaty-thing and the Master for almost an hour, his bit of sneakery already had an airtight alibi.

"Yes, yes. Oh, and if you could, spend some time with Letitia Jones, I want her brainwashed if at all possible."

"I will try, Master." Draco said with a nod. The Master waved a hand dismissively, and Draco made to leave, only glancing briefly in the Doctor's direction to see a venomous glare aimed at him. Draco raised an eyebrow at the glare, but did not show any other reaction.

x x x

"Hello, Jack." Draco said, as he sauntered into the torture chamber. Captain Jack Harkness was chained up, looking quite the worse for wear, but alive at the moment.

"Who are you?" Jack demanded.

"You've not met me before. My name is Damien Weatherby. I'm here because the Master offers a very comprehensive employee incentive scheme. If I'm into torture I'm allowed to come down here and enjoy myself."

"Oh yeah? Torture all you're here for, then?" Jack asked in his most suggestive tone.

"I heard what you did to guard Sanchez." Draco noted pointedly. Jack had, according to the report Draco himself had filed, seduced the poor guard into removing the shackles, kicked him in the teeth somehow rendering him unconscious, and made an escape attempt that might have gone very well if he hadn't had the misfortune of running right into the Master after two corridors. He might have benefited greatly from Draco's new map, but Draco knew better than to change things. He was here as a spy. To protect the Magical Community from attack by knowing when and where said attacks might come. Not to play the hero.

"I hear I damaged his face. Shame, he was kinda cute." Jack reminisced far too cheerfully.

Draco rolled his eyes and drew his wand, "I'm a bit rusty, this might not kill you right away." he said calmly, but the spell he cast was the Imperius, "You will firmly believe, and tell everyone, that I beat the living shit out of you then killed you with a nice blunt knife." he ordered.

Jack repeated in monotone, "I will tell everyone you beat the living shit out of me then killed me with a blunt knife."

"And I do not mean literally with the shit part." Draco added.

"Not literally shit." Jack repeated.

"Good boy." and Draco lifted the most immediate part of the Imperius curse, leaving only the lingering instruction in Jack's mind.

He needed more violence on his resume, and this would do nicely.

x x x

It had been six months since the Master had taken over the world, and the Magical community was getting its collective knickers in a twist. Their wards were holding, so far, and other countries had followed Britain's lead in this, but they were worried about how to get out of it.

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger were holding an international conference in the Magical Trade Centre (situated directly underneath the World Trade Centre, it had failed to get the slightest scratch in the Muggle disaster, though the wizards there at the time had a hand in saving many of the Mugglesurvivors. Ironically, the American and Middle Eastern Muggles were the ones putting up the biggest fight against the Master, working together and everything against the common enemy).

"It's surprisingly simply, but all a matter of timing." Hermione explained to the crowd of agitated witches and wizards, "There is one man who can stop these creatures-"

"They're called Toclafane, apparently." Draco put in brightly.

"And their Master-" Hermione tried to continue.

"That's actually his name, by the way." Draco added.

"Will you let me finish, please?" Hermione growled.

"Sorry, I'm just making sure you get the details right. You're right, I am getting a bit too picky, it's all his fault." Draco then shut up and allowed Hermione to continue.

"There is one man capable of defeating him, but this man is currently imprisoned by the Master."

"Where did you get this information?" Rita Skeeter demanded.

Draco grinned, happy to retaliate, "We have our sources on the inside, unfortunately they are unable to act because if they tried anything the Master would just kill them."

"And these sources are?" Rita demanded.

"Confidential." Draco answered happily, "For their own safety, of course."

"Of course." Rita grumbled, sitting back down.

"This man who can fight the Master is named the Doctor." Hermione continued, "As I am sure you have gathered by now, these Toclafane and their Master are alien in origin. The Doctor is also an alien, but he is on our side. If we channel our magical energy in union at the pre-appointed date, we can empower him to-"

"Channelling magical energy, are you mad, woman!" an American delegate demanded angrily, "That's not something that's been done since the Hogwarts Founders!"

"It isn't as hard as it sounds, all you have to do is think of the one you wish to empower and call out his name. Even Muggles can participate, and they will-" Hermione tried to explain, but again she was interrupted.

"How do you know the Muggles will participate?" Rita Skeeter demanded.

"We have reliable information which tells us the Muggles have been planning this strategy for the last six months." Hermione growled, getting very impatient with all her interrupters, "It will take another six months for them to fully prepare, but their superior numbers, even after the initial assault, will give them an even greater input in this plan than us. Everyone needs to do this in order for it to work."

"Alright, then, what exactly do we have to do?" an Australian witch asked.

"We have to focus on this man. Draco will now hand out fliers with a picture of him on it." Draco took his cue and started levitating the fliers out to everyone in the conference hall. "He is named the Doctor, and on the date listed on these fliers all witches and wizards, worldwide, must focus on this image and call out his name. Muggleborns; think of him as a benevolent version of Beetlejuice."

A few laughs scattered around the hall, as the Muggleborns got her reference.

The explanation went on for several more hours, and Draco was actually relieved to turn those hours back and return to the Valiant with a throbbing headache as a valid medical excuse to take a nap.

x x x

It was only a few days before the appointed time. Soon the Doctor would be released and the Master vanquished.

Draco had been having routine conversations with Captain Jack, covering them up with the Imperius Curse and a nice detailed description of a method of execution. He had now started changing his order to tell everyone the lie except the Doctor, to tell the Doctor the truth if he saw him.

Draco had formed a tentative friendship with Letitia Jones, who he learned preferred to be known as Tish. He decided the safest way to make her look brainwashed was, again, the Imperius Curse. He had arranged for the curse to break fully, and for Tish to remember all her conversations with him about mutiny, as soon as the Doctor was freed.

One of the lesser minions was sick today, and Draco had volunteered to feed the 'prisoner' aka the Doctor. It was dog food, he realised. A year living off of dog food, he did not want to think about that. So he brought the food to the Doctor, but in an empty corridor on his way to do so he quickly tapped his wand to the food and altered its taste and texture to eat, without affecting its appearance or ease of cutting, to that of a nice juicy steak.

The Doctor was unguarded, disabled as he was by the Master's torture. Draco set the food down.

"Aww, where's Bill?" the Doctor asked, clearly referring to the man who usually brings his food.

"Off sick today. Flu, I think. Maybe mutiny, not sure." Draco said casually.

"I feel like I should know you." the Doctor muttered, eyeing Draco warily.

"I saw you in the Master's office last year. You were in a less humiliating cage then."

"That's not it. What's your name?"

"Why would I tell you that? Power in names, after all." a brief wink, "I will tell you, dormiens nunquam titillandus."

The Doctor's eyes widened, and he examined Draco's face more closely, "Oh." he exclaimed, understanding shining in those eyes.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." Draco added, before standing up, grinning infuriatingly at the Doctor, and leaving.

The Doctor stared after him for a minute, then started laughing almost hysterically, there had been a spy against the Master in his midst all this time and no one noticed. He found it priceless. Utterly priceless.

By the time the Master returned, the Doctor had finished his very nice dog food and put on his sober face, and the Master was none the wiser.

x x x

All over the world, voices rose up, "Doctor. Doctor. Doctor."

Hermione Granger, standing in front of Gringotts bank in Diagon Alley, leading the chant to the wizards around her, had the Sonourusspell on her. Next to her was her husband Ron, holding their young children, one of whom was now speaking his first words ever. Harry and Ginny were there, too. Young James was jumping up and down as he chanted, somehow getting it into his head that he was 'sticking it to the man' with this chant. Astoria Malfoy stood off to one side, the worry for her husband written across her face, her two-year-old son barely getting the name right.

Luna Lovegood and her 'life partner' (male, but they weren't married, and that's how they referred to it) looked like they weren't really looking at the scene before them as they chanted, but at something far off up in the sky.

Almost directly overhead, on the Valiant, the Doctor grew younger, restored to his full strength and then some. Almost overcharged with the energy being directed to him from all over the world. Draco had skulked off into a corner, out of sight but able to watch, and he was chanting too.

Hermione had been right to theorise that the Muggles provided most of the energy from this, but the Doctor had not calculated the Magical world into his equation when he had given Martha the plan. Now he was floating in the air, literally glowing and sparking with power, like an avenging angel.

The Toclafane were defeated with a thought, the Master defeated with ease, but the Doctor did not kill him. No, his wife killed him.

"Nine times out of ten in homicide cases." Draco muttered to Tish with a bemused grin. Tish glared briefly, then noticed for the first time since she'd known this man that he wore a wedding band. Well she damned well better not have noticed before, Draco had been sure to keep it disillusioned in case the Master thought he was too soft to be an evil minion.

"You'd better watch it then." she joked to him, but he shrugged totally unconcerned.

x x x

When the commotion was over, and the Doctor had left with the Jones family and Captain Jack to comfort them and plan the Master's funeral, Draco still stood in that corner, watching the Master carefully. He had enough experience with Voldemort's evil master-plan to know evil overlords rarely stay dead, not to mention he had encountered the Master at a point after this had happened, so it was fairly obvious something was about to happen here.

Sure enough, perfectly timed, the map Draco held showing no one anywhere near this room but Draco and the Master, a large Grecian pillar appeared in the centre of the room. A woman wearing a hooded wizard's cloak stepped out quickly, and scooped up the Master's body. Draco stepped up to her, and spoke, "You might want to leave a fake for them to find, or they'll get suspicious." he noted.

"Good idea, transfigure something." the woman said, with a refined British accent even Draco thought sounded a bit pretentious, almost false.

Not bothering to question how she knew he was a wizard, Draco glanced around the room and saw a broken piece of furniture no one would miss. Within a minute or two he had created a good likeness of the Master's corpse. Just about the reverse of what he had heard Barty Crouch Jr had done once. Morbid though this was, Draco was not put out by it. Mostly because there was no blood.

He glanced up at the woman, and asked her carefully, "Do I know you?"

"Not yet." she answered, as she carried the Master into the pillar, which Draco quickly realised was another TARDIS. Draco followed, unafraid, and the woman appeared totally unsurprised by his continued presence, "I heard about the hat. It was right." she said with laughter in her tone.

Draco just glared at her, perfectly aware that she was accusing him of acting like a Gryffindor for trusting her, watching as she set the Master down on a couch.

He hadn't intended to eavesdrop on such a private moment, but he realised that was exactly what it was when the woman placed her hands on either side of the Master's face and began to concentrate. He could literally see golden light glimmering around her hands, spreading through the Master's entire body, as she channeled her energy into him. He had never seen a Time Lord regenerate, though he had heard about it before, but now he watched as the Master's face changed. The cheeky, manically cheerful face shifted into more angular cheekbones and a higher brow, the shape of his mouth changed from one made to grin to one made to scowl, his hair turned black and a beard grew, also black and somehow already neatly trimmed in the classic Van Dyke style popular in Muggle science fiction villains. Even the shape of his eyes shifted, if they had been open it would have made him look intense and sinister.

With the suddenness one would normally associate with Captain Jack temporary deaths, though not actually waking from it, the Master began to breathe again.

Draco watched the woman, who appeared exhausted. She glanced up at him, "Off home with you." and with that this TARDIS dropped out of a time jump Draco had not even registered beginning. Without so much as a glance back he stepped out to find himself at the front door to Malfoy Manor. He realised with a start that no one in his world would remember this last year, and he turned to bid farewell to the mysterious woman who had rescued the Master, but she and her TARDIS had already departed.

With a smile and a sense of sheer happiness at the gift of freedom, which he had not felt since the death of Voldemort, Draco opened the front door and decided on the cliche, "Honey, I'm home!"

x x x