Written for Hermione Smut 2012.
Original prompt: A portkey gone wrong, dumps Hermione directly in front of a strange blue box, marked 'Police' where the inside is bigger than out and the soul occupant has never heard of magic...Doctor Who crossover, Hermione/Doctor
Thanks to my wonderful beta, Nathaniel Cardeu. Also again to Mistress Malfoy for being bombarded with emails during this exchange!
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable character, settings etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended, and no financial gain is resulting from this work.
It had been two months and she was still stuck.
Which is to say, not necessarily stuck in the usual way. She was mobile... incredibly mobile in fact. But she wasn't quite in the right universe.
It was all a bit of a bother, really.
They hadn't quite figured out why her magic appeared to be in tact, the question even more curious given the apparent lack of magical beings in the dimension she had found herself.
The Doctor had said something about it being to do with the TARDIS and the way it transcended time and space. Hermione just thought he was grasping at straws, blurting out fast paced mumbo jumbo in lieu of any real explanation. Not that she disliked the fast paced mumbo jumbo; it was almost like some magical state that caused his hair to become even more ridiculous, which she certainly wasn't one to complain about.
And if he put his glasses on, all the better. Considering that two months ago, the only skinny, messy haired man with glasses in her life bred nothing but brotherly feelings within her, this was an... interesting development.
She had actually mistaken him for Harry, when she had first stumbled into the blue box, looking for a place to shelter from the torrential rain that pelted her as she had materialised in Cardiff, as yet unaware of the dimensionally inaccurate nature of her journey.
It had only taken a moment before she realised that the man was both too tall, and too old, to be Harry. She wasn't quite aware of just how old until a few hours later, when he had informed her that he was nine hundred and six, and from a planet that no longer existed.
She had taken it well, considering. Her immediate reaction upon entering the TARDIS had been to accuse him of extensive illegal magical expansion charms, and his befuddled and vehement denial of any such thing had propelled them into a quick tongued and lively exchange, culminating in the realisation that no, she wasn't in Kansas any more and yes, she had better get used to it because he wasn't prepared to tear a hole in the fabric of time and space for someone he had only just met.
And now, two months later, despite her constant research and his continual chatter about the theoretical stuff that she sort of understood but sometimes didn't, they were no closer to reaching a solution. She had even begun to wonder if she really wanted to go back.
The reality was, her world was dangerous and frightening. The very reason she had landed in Cardiff had been because of her blood status; a few rogue supremacists, desperately clinging to their antiquated ideals, attacking her in an alley behind the Ministry of Magic, and one of them casting a stasis spell that she assumed had messed with her emergency portkey.
She had few true friends in her world, instead choosing to focus on her work, writing policy and climbing her way up amongst the ranks of Ministry officials. Here, in this world that was different but the same, she found herself exploring vast galaxies, strange new worlds, and experiencing moments in history that she had only ever read about. Or seen in a dramatised special on BBC3.
Granted, she usually ended up being chased by an angry mob, or casting spells to escape from prison... or disintegrating space ships... or overly amorous men's bedrooms. But it was fun for the most part.
Oh who was she kidding, it was a riot. A terrifying, fascinating, bizarrely hilarious riot, and she was stupid to still be looking for a way back.
The Doctor insisted it was her choice; that, if she found a way, he would help her, as long as it didn't cause the whole of existence to collapse. She couldn't help but wonder if that far away look in his eye was meant for her though. She didn't even know if shewanted it to be for her, and eventually decided it was just her rapidly growing ego making things up.
The first time they had had sex it was quite unexpected. There had been an incident with some sentient gingernuts and the Sultan of Brunei, which doesn't in itself sound life threatening, but when combined with endlessly multiplying jelly, had become a situation that had quickly escalated. In their haste to rid themselves of goop and gingernut crumbs they had both stripped, tossing their soggy clothes over the branches of the coral like pillars that surrounded the control module, ignoring the loud banging on the door, the Sultan's booming voice insisting they go back for some tea and biscuits.
She didn't know if it was the adrenaline or if she was just horny that day, but a few moments after glancing out of the corner of her eye at his wiry frame, she stormed across the room, shoving him into one of the pillars and planted her lips firmly on his.
It wasn't until afterwards, her legs wrapped around his hips, back still pressed against the strangely spongy material of the coral stuff, that he admitted that this was his first time having sex with one of his companions.
"Well... in this body anyway. Not even with Jack," he had mused, eyes distant and thoughtful. She had quickly decided she'd had quite enough of that, dropped her legs, forcing him to pull away from her, and grabbed his hand, dragging him towards the living quarters that were further into the depths of the TARDIS.
"Rule number one, Doctor. No thinking about ex boyfriends when you've got your alien penis inside me."
The Doctor had looked a little affronted and she took his moment of pause to push him out, through the entrance to the control room, pinching his bum along the way.
"He wasn't my boyfriend. I mean... we kissed a couple of times, but that's more because of-"
"You don't have to justify your sexuality to me, idiot."
"I'm not it's just..." He trailed off. "I'm really not sure this is such a good idea, I mean with all this wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff going on with you and all the void stuff we both have and then you're travelling with me and-"
"Too late, we already did it. Did it feel nice?"
"Well, yeah. It's just-"
"Shut up and get on the bed."
He gulped and ran his hand through his hair. "Well, all right."
His hesitation was short lived, once her lips closed around his cock and she sunk her fingers into his hip, the reluctance turned into enthusiasm and it wasn't long before she found herself shoved face down into the mattress, his fingers inside her, teeth tugging at the soft flesh of her inner thigh.
They did it three times before agreeing that they were both sufficiently satisfied, and that there must have been some kind of lust inducing chemical in the jelly. Out of habit, she asked what time it was, and he made fun of her for asking such an irrelevant question.
Completely ignoring her nudity, she rolled out of his bed and sauntered out of the room, tossing a rude gesture over her shoulder and chuckling as he tossed one of his weird squishy alien pillows at her retreating bottom.
The second time they had sex, it was nothing to do with jelly or gingernuts, or any kind of object you would expect to be mostly inanimate. It had nothing to do with strange toxins or alcohol, or even a near death experience.
It was, quite simply, the cliché moment where the two main characters from the movie are sitting on the couch, or in this case leaning over the TARDIS control panel, get a little bit too close, and then suddenly they're kissing; desperately trying to jam their tongues down each others' throats, biting and licking and sucking in such an obscene manner that you almost feel a little uncomfortable watching the telly while someone else is in the same room.
Next thing you know, girl and boy, or boy and boy, or girl and girl, or girl and boy and girl, or whoever else has been tossed together by the alcoholic scriptwriter, are stumbling off the couch, and heading towards the bedroom. Such is where the similarities between Hermione and The Doctor ended. Instead he pushed her up against the diagnostic panel, pulled down her jeans, and took her right there, rough and intense, hands sliding up her shirt, clutching at her breasts, still covered by a plain tee shirt bra. He tugged at the cup, grunting in disappointment at the lightly padded fabric's refusal to stay below her full breast.
Huffing, Hermione pushed back a little, giving herself some space, and pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it aside carelessly along with the quickly unclasped bra. She turned her head and looked at him pointedly, and he grinned.
The rest of the evening, or night, or morning, or afternoon, or whatever it was on board a time machine, went much the same as their previous interlude. It was fun, satisfying, but nothing too serious. Not much more than a way to blow off steam, to revel in the closeness of another being.
And so they had parted ways once again - amicable, cheeky and grateful to one another - not bothering to mention either of the two nights they had spent desperately seeking physical completion. There was no awkwardness, no blushing or giggling or furtive glances. They were confident, happy and safe within their blue box, safe from the judgement of the rest of the universe, safe from the norms of human society.
He kept ignoring her increasingly desperate quest for a way back, and she kept ignoring his half hearted attempts at humouring her thought experiments, until the day when she figured it out. That day, he changed into someone she had previously only seen peeking through the cracks of his happy go lucky exterior.
They were back in Cardiff the third time. That was they day she came up with the solution to her problem. She was planning on keeping it a secret, on leaving without giving him a chance to say goodbye. He had said that he hated goodbyes.
Then they had been caught up in a mess that was unexpected, if not a little unsurprising.
Her introduction to Captain Jack Harkness had garnered an eye roll from The Doctor, along with a snappy comment about promiscuity and a protective arm around her waist. She looked at him sharply and flicked her eyes between the two males curiously, the air strangely charged in a way that sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn't an unpleasant shiver, but it held a certain element of unease, the history between the other two palpable in the suddenly too small space of the TARDIS.
The next six hours was spent up to her neck in alien slime, by the end of which she had cast aside any lingering attraction to the man in the great coat, and managed to stamp down the doubt she felt about returning to her own universe. She was standing a few feet from the blue box when the air shifted next to her ear and an American voice made her jump.
"He loves you, you know."
She sighed and reached for her wand, ready to end her little adventure and head home. "Unless you want to join me in another dimension, I suggest you take a couple of steps to the right within the next minute or so."
"He hates goodbyes."
"That's why I'm not saying goodbye."
"Look." He took a step forward to stand beside her and she glanced up at him. "I don't know if this world is really any better than yours, all I know is that in the few mentions of it today, you haven't said anything even remotely positive. Are you going back because you want to, or because you feel you have to?"
The door to the TARDIS opened and a scruffy head of hair poked out, searching the square for signs of life. After a few moments The Doctor shrugged and closed the door.
"Go home, Jack."
"How are you going to do it?"
"See this boring patch of paver we're standing on?"
Jack looked down. "Yeah?"
"This is where the TARDIS was the last time we landed. There's a permanent spacio temporal rift here. I'm going to use it to get home."
"How do you know it's going to work?"
She met his eyes and smiled sadly. "I don't. If it doesn't work, then I'll just go back inside and continue on as if nothing ever happened."
"Do you think it's going to work?"
"Do you want it to work?"
"Yes." Her voice wavered and she looked down at her wand hand.
"Yeah, of course." She laughed unconvincingly and lifted her wand to her skull. "Now piss off, before I end up taking you with me."
Jack took a few steps to the side, eyes fixed on the TARDIS doors. She was half way through the incantation before The Doctor stepped back through the blue doors, red and blue cardboard glasses perched on his nose. His nose wrinkled and he frowned.
"I can see all this void stuff floating around a square just there." He pointed to the spot where she stood and looked curiously at Jack. "You haven't seen Hermione have you?"
Jack shrugged and The Doctor tucked the 3D glasses back into his pocket and pulled out a pair of grandpa style frames, the lenses as thick as coke bottle glasses, not unlike Professor Trelawney's. His eyes widened and he ran forward, stopping just short of her.
"Do you really want to do this? Do you really want to go back to a place where you're hunted like an animal?"
She hesitated, a tear rolling down her cheek, but continued with the spell. He clutched at his hair and pulled off the glasses violently, tossing them to the ground as he stepped into her personal space. Her eyes widened and she tried to push him away with her free hand, but he stayed still, touching her cheek with one unnaturally cool finger.
"Okay, fine. We had fun while it lasted though, didn't we?" He smiled sadly and squeezed her shoulder. She shoved him again, the spell almost complete and he stepped back, away from the spot which would be her way home. A few moments later her voice stopped, her eyes closed tightly, not wanting to see the sadness in his eyes. She remained stationary, her only movement erratic shuddering from violent sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks, escaping her lowered lashes easily.
Her wand dropped from her fingers with a clatter and she turned, pressing her fists to her eyes in an attempt to hold back the flow of tears. "I..." She gasped a sob and stomped her foot. "I can't..."
She yelped as as his fingers clamped around her arm and yanked her backwards, strong arms closing around her and, before she could process what was going on, his lips were on hers, strong and firm, strangely warmer than the rest of his alien body.
"You know, that's some action I would love to get in on." Jack's voice broke the moment and they tore apart, both glaring daggers.
He smiled widely at their simultaneous telling off and chuckled. "One of these days, It's gonna be me who gets the girl... figuratively speaking." He took a few steps forward and embraced them both, placing a kiss on each of their heads. "Don't be afraid to say the words, Doctor."
As he walked away, Hermione looked up at The Doctor curiously. He had a faraway look in his eyes, smile playing at the corner of his lips.
"It's okay, you don't have to say-" He placed a finger on her lips and shushed her, grinning widely.
"I love you."
"It's okay, you don't-"
"Oh, for once in your life, don't look the damn horse in its mouth. I love you, Hermione Granger. Now get inside before I do something inappropriate in full view of Cardiff." He tugged at her hand and began pulling her towards the TARDIS, picking up her dropped wand along the way.
He looked back briefly. "Yes?"
She grinned and wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Can we do it in the swimming pool this time?"