(A/N: this was written for whooves on tumblr for a secret santa fic exchange. it's based off of an idea for a multi-chaptered fic that my friend katie (dontbelieveinghosts on tumblr) and i came up with a long time ago that never quite came into fruition. much of the dialogue is the writing she and i originally did together, and most of the plot points are ours too. don't worry, i got her permission to do this! anyway: because it was originally intended to be multi-chaptered, many of the ideas were condensed and simplified. so i apologize if there are any inconsistencies either in theme or writing - i wrote this entire thing in three days when i realized i only had three days left to write my secret santa fic. this is the longest story i've ever written and the shortest period of time i've ever written so much. also, sorry this author note is so long. also, please review?)
He's not quite sure why he applied for this post.
He has no idea what to do, and that's probably very apparent. His deep blue briefcase (the one he stole from the Department of Mysteries, the one he bewitched to become bigger on the inside once he realized what it could do) is spitting papers out all over his classroom. Even a mostly-non-sentient piece of time-travelling luggage knows that the classwork he's come up with is rubbish.
His class will be here in ten minutes. Well, then. He will have to improvise - and isn't that what he does best, anyway? With a wave of his wand he sweeps the scattered papers into the rubbish bin next to his desk. (He has a desk! He wonders if he should put a shiny red apple on it to make official his Professor Status. Ooh, or a banana!)
He turns around, picks up a piece of chalk, and starts handwriting questions on the board.
Eventually a bell rings and a class files in. Seventh years, according to his schedule (and the lazy attitude of the students). A Gryffindor and Slytherin class, but he doesn't see any green among the sea of red-and-gold ties.
"Hello!" he says to his classroom. He grins and tries looking at all of them, which turns out to be overwhelming because it's his first class of the day and good Gallifrey, there are a lot of them.
Some of his students smile back at him. An attractive boy with brown hair gives him a grin and a small salute. The remarkably pretty blonde girl in the front row bites her lip in a cheerful half-smile. Far behind her, at the very back of the class, a redheaded Slytherin girl (ahh, the only Slytherin in the class) is passing notes to another remarkably ginger boy.
"I'm the Doctor!" the Doctor says. "Your schedules will say Professor Smith, but I prefer the Doctor. That's D-O-C-T-O-R." He punctuates each letter with a flick of his wand as the chalk writes his name on the board in the corner. "And, er, my original lesson plan got into a fight with my briefcase earlier this morning, so instead I'm going to give you all a pop quiz."
There is a collective groan throughout the classroom. The Doctor chuckles.
"I know no one wants to take a pop quiz on the first day," he says. "Let me say a few things first: this quiz is not for a grade. I just want to test your knowledge. Please answer every question, even if you don't know the answer. Do your best. Take educated guesses - or uneducated guesses, depending on how well your teachers have taught you in the past."
A few students smirk. The blonde girl in the front row lets out a silent laugh that does something funny to his stomach.
It's no secret that the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching post at Hogwarts is a sketchy business. The Doctor knows he isn't going to last longer than a year here, and that's one reason he took the job in the first place. He doesn't like settling down, moving in, getting comfortable. He likes to run.
"You'll find the pop quiz questions on the board behind me," he says. "You may begin."
Rose stares at the board in bewilderment.
Question one: What should you do if you come in contact with a weeping angel?
How is she supposed to know that? She's never heard of a weeping angel before. But the Doctor said to take an educated guess.
Why would an angel be weeping?
Use a cheering charm on it, Rose writes, laughing at the absurdity of her own answer. Probably very far off the mark, but it's all she can think of.
She sort of hopes she impresses the Doctor. He's kind of cute, in an incredibly awkward, nerdy-but-energetic professor kind of way. Not that it matters - she's with Mickey, always has been - but it doesn't hurt to get along with her professors.
Question two: What are the magical properties of the Medusa Cascade?
Rose knows this one. Maybe. Hadn't Professor Sinistra mentioned the Medusa Cascade in Astronomy class? She remembers learning a little bit about it in her Fifth Year, studying it for her OWLs… It was too far to see clearly with her telescope, she knows. What was it?
There's a rift in time there, she writes, hoping she's right.
Question three: What are the Vashta Nerada?
The quiz continues in this vein, confusing Rose more and more as she tries in vain to answer questions about Raxacoricofallapatorious, Cyberwizards, Gelth, and other strange things she had never heard of.
Rose finishes the final question (What is the one weakness of sonic-based magic?) with a wild guess just as the bell rings. She gets up with her class and hands her paper to the Doctor, who is casually leaning against his desk, disheveled pinstripes sticking in different angles with the way his body is bent.
She had noticed his Muggle clothing earlier, disheveled as his hair - a button undone and a loosened tie, as if he couldn't be bothered to properly get ready. Muggle clothes, a Muggle name. Muggle hair product?
This man exudes energy and absentmindedness, as if he is so on-the-go that he sometimes forgets to tie a shoe or eat breakfast or brush his hair. (On second thought, Rose thinks that there's no way this man could ever forget to brush his hair. It is too perfectly styled.)
Grading is the worst thing about teaching. The Doctor would pay someone to do this part of his job for him.
Maybe not for this pop quiz in particular. Some of his students' answers are very imaginative, and others are just funny. Rory Williams, a Hufflepuff Seventh Year, answered question one with, "For all intents and purposes, die." Rose Tyler, the blonde Gryffindor in the front row seat, has very insightful (if frequently incorrect) answers. No one in any of his classes seems to know very much about any of the subject matter. For some reason, this excites him. He gets to teach them everything he knows.
He passes the graded quizzes back the next class day.
"None of you did very well on this quiz," he says as he walks down the aisles handing papers directly to students in an attempt to learn their names. "No offense," he adds. "You'll know much more by the end of the year, I hope. But since you know so little about defense against the dark arts right now, I'm going to start with the very basics. Can anyone tell me: what would you do if you were confronted with a werewolf?"
The class stares at him blankly.
"Come on," he says. "You know the answer. Basic self-defense."
Timidly, Rose Tyler raises her hand.
"Yes," he says. "Rose."
"Well," she says, "you run."
He grins. She grins back. (Does he have butterflies?)
"Excellent," he says. "And that's what we're going to do today."
"I can't believe the Doctor's got us running up and down the Quidditch pitch for Defense Against the Dark Arts," Mickey complains through a mouthful of shepherd's pie.
"I don't know," says Jack Harkness. "I don't mind it so much."
"That's because you were built to last," says Rose with a wink. "You've got stamina Mickey can only dream of." Jack grins at her and winks back.
"Oi, stop flirting, you two," says Mickey. "At least wait until I'm out of earshot so I at least think Rose and I are exclusive."
"You don't even think we're exclusive now," Rose says, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. "I know you and Tricia hooked up this summer."
"You know nothing," Mickey says with a laugh.
"I know you're not supposed to be at this table," Rose says. "Get back over there and be with your people." She pushes him up from his seat at the Gryffindor table, kisses him on the cheek, and shoves him toward the Ravenclaw table.
"Summer's over, babe," Mickey calls over his shoulder as he walks. "It's just you and me. No distance between us to keep us apart!"
"Just the Hufflepuff table between us now!" Rose shouts back to him. Laughing, she turns back to Jack. "I'm so glad I'm not in love with him, or I wouldn't know what to do with him."
"Yeah," says Jack, taking a sip of orange juice. "It's too bad he's in love with you and doesn't know what to do with himself."
"Doctor?"
The Doctor jumps. He'd been reading at his desk, waiting for his Seventh Year Gryffindor and Slytherin class to file out and his Fourth Year Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw class to file in. He hadn't even noticed that Rose had stayed behind. (He's not sure how he didn't notice. He finds himself hyperaware of her in class sometimes, which is probably a very bad thing. There have only been two weeks of classes, and she's a student and he's a teacher, and there's an age gap and he doesn't deserve her and oh Rassilon he should not be rationalizing this because he shouldn't even be thinking about it because he shouldn't be attracted to her in the first place.)
"Hello!" he says brightly.
"Just a question," she says. "Why do you call yourself the Doctor? Doctor what?"
"Does it need to be Doctor anything?" the Doctor asks.
"Well, Doctor isn't exactly a proper name," Rose says. "'S just a title."
"So you know what a doctor is!" he says happily. "Muggle studies class? Or Muggle parents?"
"My mum's a Muggle," Rose says. "Dad was, too."
"Oh, I'm sorry," the Doctor says, concern showing on his face. Without thinking, he takes her hand. A tingle runs through him and he drops it immediately. "Sorry," he repeats, looking down.
"'S fine," Rose says. "I was just a baby when he died. So, why the Doctor?"
"Why not?" the Doctor replies. Her question seems oddly personal. She seems oddly personal. He likes it - likes her - but it's off-putting. She trips him up a little.
"Right," Rose says. "Well, I'd better get to Transfiguration…"
"Right," the Doctor repeats to her retreating form. "Have a good day. And good job on the quiz on the first day, by the way, meant to say something."
Rose turns around. "Really?" she asks.
"Yeah," he says. "Your answers were brilliant."
"Really?" she asks again. "That's the lowest I've probably ever gotten on a Defense Against the Dark Arts grade."
"Well, you had me impressed," says the Doctor. He flushes when she beams at him.
She is floating amongst the stars, glittering and shining and dancing with them. She is a star, a cosmic entity of her own, capable of movement and thought and reason, but incapable of forming words on her hot tongue. She cannot touch the other stars, so she watches them. They move together and apart as if billions of years are passing by in a matter of minutes, and she is outside of time. She sees stars being born, stars dying, and she mourns their loss, but still she watches. They form new constellations, circles that loop in on themselves. Strange shapes that almost seem like writing, but Rose has never seen this circular script before.
She watches the stars living and dying – forming and unforming and reforming in circles – for hours.
But she never dies.
"I've been having weird dreams," Rose says over breakfast.
"What kind of weird dreams?" Jack asks with a sly grin on his face.
"Shut up," Rose says with a snort of laughter. "Not like that, just, like…weird. Like I can see the whole of time and space or something. I can see stars dying and the future happening."
"Can you tell me my future?" Charlie Weasley chimes in. "I think I'm about to fail this Astronomy quiz, and I want to know how bad the damage is going to be."
"It's more, like, broad. The future of humankind," Rose says. "But yeah, I'm going to fail the Astronomy quiz, too."
"You mean your dying-star dreams aren't helping prepare you for Astronomy class?" jokes Jack. "What's the point of dreaming them, then?"
"You're asking me," Rose mutters.
All right, there's no way of getting around it.
Rose Tyler is undeniably attracted to the Doctor.
Sometimes when he's lecturing in class, she doesn't pay attention to anything but the length of his legs, the curve of his lip, the rasp to his voice and how it would sound if he whispered her name or moaned. She wonders what his body would feel like pressed against her body. Tall and lanky and lithe. How much of him is muscle, she wonders. What kind of body does he hide underneath his pinstripes?
She starts going to his office to talk to him after classes let out for the day. Sometimes she has an actual question about his lessons that she needs him to answer. Sometimes she just talks to him - pokes fun at him for his having been a Hufflepuff when he was at school, or asks him about his life.
"I dunno why I don't remember you," says Rose on a Friday afternoon. "You're, what, five years older than me? I'd've been at Hogwarts while you were."
"I only came to Hogwarts for my Seventh Year," the Doctor says. "I was homeschooled before that."
"How come?" Rose asks.
"My family was very…noble, very pure, and very…experimental with their magic. They taught me things I wouldn't dare teach you." He frowns. "Have you ever heard of the Time Lords?"
Rose shakes her head.
"No, of course not, you're Muggle-born," says the Doctor. "Well. I come from the House of Gallifrey, an old Pureblood family. The oldest Pureblood family, they used to brag. Course, now it's just me. But they - we - were called Time Lords, because of our use of experimental magic with the properties of time and space."
"Well, that sounds very alien," Rose says.
"I am very alien," the Doctor replies with a smirk.
"Dunno," Rose says with a smirk to match his, hoisting her bag over her shoulder and turning to leave. "I've met stranger."
"I certainly hope not," says the Doctor. "I'll see you on Monday, Rose."
"Bye!" Rose says cheerfully as she leaves the room. "Until Monday!"
But the next day he runs into her in the Three Broomsticks. He'd forgotten that Seventh Years are permitted to go to Hogsmeade whenever they well please. It's a Saturday now, so of course Rose and her friends aren't going to stay in the castle when there's off-ground mischief to be had.
(Her friend group is massive, and they're all taking his class. He's happy to note that she has friends in every House. Two other Gryffindors beside Rose, Jack Harkness and Charlie Weasley; two Ravenclaws, Mickey Smith and Martha Jones; two Hufflepuffs, Rory Williams and Nymphadora Tonks; and just one Slytherin, Amy Pond. The Doctor wonders how they are all going to fit at one table, but the group of eight takes a seat at the bar next to him instead.)
"Here comes trouble," the Doctor says to Madame Donna, the barmaid.
"Oh, it's you lot," Donna says to the group. "The usual, butterbeers all around?"
"Donna!" says Jack Harkness, ignoring her question. "You're looking stunning, as usual. I'll take a Firewhiskey if you've got it. Ogden's Old, please."
"Sure you can handle that?" Donna asks. "How old are you again…? Twelve?"
"Hey!" says Jack. "I'm almost eighteen!"
"Right," Donna says. "So, liquid courage for Prince Charming here, butterbeers for everyone else?"
There's a general noise of assent among the group. Donna nods and turns to fill their glasses.
"Hey Jack," says Tonks, "sure you need any more courage?"
"Yeah, you're already cocky enough as it is," Martha adds with a smirk.
"Martha, no," says Jack, his smirk matching hers, "there's no such thing as too much cock."
Everyone groans together as Jack hi-fives Mickey across Martha's body. The Doctor watches Rose laugh and then turn to face him.
"Oh!" she says, apparently not having noticed him before. "Hi, Doctor! Pretend you didn't hear that."
"I heard nothing," the Doctor replies. "I also don't know anything about students partaking in the drinking of alcoholic beverages during the school year."
"Hmm," Rose says. "Well, when else are we going to do it?" She grins at him, her tongue poking out between her teeth. He tries not to let his eyes linger on her tongue-touched smile for too long.
"So what are you doing here?" she asks him.
"Grading papers," he says, motioning toward the massive pile of parchment on the bar in front of him.
"Over a butterbeer?"
"A banana butterbeer," the Doctor corrects her. "Much more delicious than your average run-of-the-mill butterbeer."
"Ahh, I see," Rose says. "Only the best for you."
"That's right," says the Doctor, smiling at her.
Formality begins to lose its place between the Doctor and Rose. One day in October, the Doctor greets Rose at the door with a giant hug. (This becomes a tradition between them from then on.) Rather than the Doctor sitting behind his desk and Rose sitting in front of it, they've taken to sitting next to each other on top of the desk, resting their feet together on the chair below them. (This leads to closeness of their bodies, and the Doctor hopes that Rose doesn't notice that he's started closing the door to his office when she arrives so as not to arouse suspicion from anybody who might pass by his door and peek in to see teacher and student practically cuddling.)
He tells her more about his family - how they began to mix astrological magic and time magic with dark magic, and how an experiment went wrong, and how he tried to save them all, and how he failed.
"I killed them, Rose," he says. "It was my spell that ended their lives. I was trying to save them."
His face contorts, and he won't cry because he can't cry, especially not in front of her, and she grabs his hand and holds it tight.
He swallows. "I'm left here on my own 'cause there's no one left," he says to her.
She looks him straight in the eyes. "There's me."
Just like that, his sadness dissipates. As if all it took was one pink-and-yellow girl holding his hand and smiling at him.
"Rose Tyler," he breathes. "You really are brilliant."
She's incredibly close to him - he can smell lilac in her hair and mint on her breath - and when he goes to bed that night he dreams that he had kissed her rather than just pulling her into a tight hug. (Don't get him wrong - hugs are amazing - but he craves to know the feeling of Rose's lips on his, her hands in his hair, her waist in his own hands.)
Circles spin into circles over and over, written in stars. The same circles, again and again, forming the same pattern. Exploding stars, reforming stars. Bad Wolf. Circles in circles on circles through circles around circles. The whole of time and space.
Halloween rolls by somewhat uneventfully - bewitched jack-o-lanterns perform an eerie musical spectacular during the feast, and the Doctor and Rose exchange a few smiling glances, and Mickey notices but doesn't say anything. (Rose knows he knows, but she doesn't say anything either.)
In class on November first, the Doctor teaches a lesson about love.
"There's just one thing that we've all got that is powerful enough to save us all in a time of need," he says. "Any guesses?"
Jack raises his hand. "A wand?" he offers. Everyone laughs.
"Good try, but no. Anyone else?" the Doctor asks.
"Legs?" Amy guesses. "For running?"
"No, but I'm glad I've drilled it into all of your heads that running is a good thing to do," the Doctor says. "No. The one thing - the most powerful weapon we have - is love."
The classroom is filled with a mixture of groans, murmurs, and titters.
"Think about it. If you are confronted by a presumably vicious star whale, what do you do?" the Doctor asks.
"Run!" Amy shouts from the back of the class.
"You can't run," the Doctor says. "You're in outer space. But let's assume you can breathe in outer space, and you are dealing with a star whale. Do you try to kill it? Or do you try to communicate with it?"
The classroom is silent.
"I know this probably seems like a very silly lesson to you all," the Doctor continues, "but love is our most powerful weapon. Why? Because it doesn't hurt anyone.
"Now, I know I don't give a lot of homework, but this weekend I want you all to write a two-foot essay on the benefits of being peaceful, compassionate - using love - in a tricky situation. You may use hypothetical examples (preferably more thought-out and specific than my star whale example). I'm giving you time in class to start now because I'm sure some of you have questions."
For the rest of the hour, he walks down the aisles and helps his students with their questions. When he comes to Rose, he glances down at her paper to see what she's written so far.
She has a good start on her essay, but that isn't what catches his eye. All along the margins of her paper, she's written the same circular symbol over and over. He recognizes it immediately - he didn't think he would ever see that language in another person's writing again.
"Bad Wolf," the Doctor reads quietly.
Rose's head snaps up. "What?"
"Those are ancient Gallifreyan runes," the Doctor says. "They're not taught at Hogwarts, and very few still know how to read them. Why are you writing them?"
"I didn't know what they meant," Rose says. "This symbol keeps appearing in my dreams."
"Bad Wolf, it means," the Doctor says. "Funny, I heard that phrase the other day somewhere, I think. What does it mean?"
"I've no idea," says Rose. "Those words keep coming up in my dreams, too."
"Hmm," says the Doctor. "Probably just a coincidence. How's your essay coming along?"
Rose has trouble with her essay over the weekend. She wants the Doctor to be impressed with her writing, happy with the ideas she has come up with. But she has no idea how to organize her thoughts.
"Mickey, can you help me out with this Defense Against the Dark Arts essay?" Rose whispers to Mickey. They're seated with Amy, Rory, and Jack around a table in the library.
"No, I've already done mine," says Mickey. "Didn't really get it, but the Doctor's a nutter anyway."
"He is not!" says Rose. "He's brilliant!"
"Yeah," replies Mickey, jaw clenched, "that's what you think, I know, because you've got a crush on him or something."
Amy, Rory, and Jack look up.
"What?" Rose whispers back, her voice a squeak of indignation. "I do not!"
"Come off it, babe," Mickey whispers. "I'm not stupid. You two are more obvious than Amy and Rory."
"Sorry, what?" Amy interrupts.
"Rory's in love with you," Mickey tells her.
"Rory? No," Amy looks at Rory and then turns back to Mickey. "Nice thought, okay, but completely impossible."
"Yeah," Rory interjects, "impossible."
"I mean, I'd love to be with him," says Amy. "He's gorgeous. He's my favorite guy. But he's, you know…"
"A friend," Rory says at the exact same time that Amy says, "Gay."
"I'm not gay!" Rory says.
"Of course you are!" Amy replies, getting louder.
"No," Rory replies, his voice rising too. "No, I'm not."
"If he were gay, I would have had a fighting chance for him," Jack interjects.
"You're a Hufflepuff, 'course you're gay!" Amy says to Rory. "Besides, in the whole time I've known you, when have you shown any interest in a girl? I mean, I've known you for, what, seven years? I've seen you practically every day. Name one girl you've paid the slightest bit of attention to."
Rory looks at her, swallows, and runs. Amy's eyes widen as she stares at his now-empty seat.
"Oh my god," she says. She stands, throws an apologetic look at Jack, Rose, and Mickey, and runs after him, shouting his name.
"Silence in my library!" whispers the librarian, Madame Pince.
"Sorry, Madame Pince," Jack whispers, giving her a charming smile. He turns back to Mickey and Rose. "So, now that that penny has dropped," he whispers, "Rose, what is this about you and the Doctor?"
"You mean you haven't noticed?" Mickey asks, a hint of venom in his voice. "Rose visits him after classes every day, they smile at each other in the corridors and during dinner… They're lucky no one's caught them snogging in some empty classroom yet."
"We haven't done any of that!" Rose whispers, frustrated. "We just sit and talk, that's all! He's tutoring me in some of my classes, helping me out. Which is more than I can say for you recently. Been spendin' all your time with Martha Jones."
"Well, at least Martha isn't constantly off somewhere else," says Mickey. "I thought we were together, babe."
"We were," Rose says, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "We are."
"Maybe not anymore," Mickey whispers. His voice breaks.
Rose stares at her lap, silent. She can feel Mickey's eyes on her, can feel the presence of Jack sitting between them, for once too awkward to break the tension.
After a long time, Rose gathers her parchment and books. "Okay," she says, shoving everything into her bag. Without another word, she gets up and leaves the library.
There's a knock on the door to his office, and before he can cross the room, Rose bursts in. Her face is pink, her jaw is clenched, and the Doctor registers a look of sheer determination on her face.
"Hello, Rose," he says. "Is everything okay?"
She walks closer to him, and he goes cross-eyed looking at her, and then her hands are on the lapels of his suit and she's kissing him.
The Doctor would like to say that he knows how to handle tricky situations. He is, after all, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He should be smooth while under ambush. Quick to react while being attacked.
But Rose's lips are pressed insistently against his lips, her body moving against his body, and it takes several seconds of flailing before his hands find her waist and his lips press back, opening slightly to fit the shape of her mouth, to melt into her, tongue against tongue.
She grabs his hair a little bit too hard, and it brings him back to logical thought. "The door," he murmurs against her lips. "I mean - Rose - we shouldn't be doing this, but - close the door."
"Right," Rose breathes, stepping back and closing the door. Locking it. The Doctor swallows, licks his lips.
"Rose," he whispers.
"Doctor," she says. "I know." She steps up to him again and pulls him into a hug. "I meant to come here for help on my essay," she whispers into his ear with a laugh.
He chuckles. "We can still do that."
"Or we could…" Rose trails off, pulling away from him and staring at his lips.
"Or we could…?" the Doctor asks. He has no idea how wide his eyes are, how red and wet his lips must look to her.
"We could -" Rose says, but that's as far as she gets, because this time it's the Doctor who initiates the kiss. He backs her into his desk and hoists her up onto it, his lips peppering hers. "Yeah, this," Rose says, her voice a mere breath against his lips. She spreads her legs - the Doctor feels her foot against the back of his knee, pulling him closer to her.
He hasn't been this thoroughly snogged in years. Since his Hogwarts days, actually. He hasn't wanted someone this much in as many years. He hasn't fallen in love for a very long time.
He doesn't deserve it - this - her. But how can he be expected to stop now? She's grinding against him, her fingers in his hair sending shivers all the way down his body, down to where his arousal is becoming much more apparent.
"Rose," he whispers, "we really can't do thi - ahhhh." She has her hand pressed against his cock, over his clothing. Her fingers splay around him. "Rose," he moans.
"No one - has to - know," whispers Rose between kisses. "I can - keep you - a secret."
"Mmm, Rose," he says. "Okay."
They wind up in the Doctor's bedroom, which is just behind a doorway in his office. (This makes Rose laugh. He probably wakes up, takes three steps to his desk, and grades papers in his pyjamas. Daft old man.)
And it's awkward, a bit. There's some fumbling. At one point, halfway unclothed, she tells him, "I'm not a virgin."
"Me neither," says the Doctor in response.
"Good," says Rose. "Glad to know I'm not stripping you of your purity, then." (She strips him of his pinstriped trousers instead.)
"Doctor, you're, what, 23?" Rose asks. She's lying across his chest, their naked legs tangled together at the end of the bed.
"Mmm," he says in sleepy agreement.
"But you seem so much older," Rose says. "Not that you look older, but your eyes…"
"It's because I have the time vortex running through my head," the Doctor mumbles. "Casualty of being a Time Lord. Do you want to see?"
"Yeah," Rose says. "But how can I-?"
The Doctor's fingers caress her temples. "Open your mind," he says. She has no idea what that means until she feels something alien and golden-tasting poking at her brain. She lets it pour in.
Incredible. Just like the stars being born and dying in her dreams. She can see the whole of time and space because of him.
"Rose, are you okay?" the Doctor sounds more alert than before, but his voice is distant and muffled under the sound of stars exploding in her head.
"Yeah," she says. "My head hurts a little. This is amazing."
"Your eyes are glowing," he says.
"I can see everything," Rose tells him, amazed. "All that is. All that was. All that ever could be."
"Yeah, that's what I see all the time," the Doctor says. "Doesn't it drive you mad?"
Yes. It is driving her mad because she can see her strand of time right along with his, but everything around them is in flux and she doesn't know if their strands are going to stay as interwoven as they are right now. And it is driving her mad because she can hear the words Bad Wolf as if someone were whispering them into her ears, but there's no one here but her and the Doctor. And it is driving her mad because everything is gold and glittering, and everything is so loud.
"Take it away?" Rose asks him. He removes his hands from her temples. Almost immediately, time slips away. "How can you stand it?"
"I was built for it," the Doctor says. "Born into a family who's built up stamina against time for centuries."
"Hmm," Rose says. They fall silent for a long time. Rose chews her lip, thinking. She's only seen or heard the phrase Bad Wolf around the Doctor, always connected with him and with time.
"Maybe the Bad Wolf is us," she says. "You 'n me."
"Our timelines?" the Doctor asks.
"Our whole selves," Rose says, "together and apart."
"But mostly together," the Doctor says, kissing the top of her head.
"Yeah, of course," she whispers. Slowly, they drift off to sleep together.
It's the closest she can come to telling him that she loves him. But maybe they're not ready for that yet. She smiles into his skin with the firm belief that they will reach that point eventually.
"It's called the TARDIS," says the Doctor. "That's Time And Relative Dimensions In Space."
"It's a briefcase," says Rose.
"Well, yes," the Doctor says. "But step inside."
"Step inside your briefcase?" Rose asks.
He nods. "Trust me."
Sometimes she looks at him as if he really is alien, and now is one of those times. Reluctantly, she steps into the open briefcase and then falls into it with a scream.
"Oh my god!" comes her voice from the inside of the briefcase. "The inside is bigger than the outside!"
"It's a different dimension," says the Doctor, stepping into the TARDIS and landing somewhat gracefully on the grated floor. It looks part-plant, part-machine, with coral-like vines twisting upward along with cords that are draped everywhere and a giant round console shooting up at the very center. "It travels time."
"Your briefcase travels time?" Rose asks him, incredulous.
"Yep!" he says, popping the 'p.' "She travels time, I should say. She's alive."
Rose laughs, shakes her head. "There are always surprises with you." She walks over to the console and tentatively places her hand on the smooth coral. The TARDIS hums in response. "This is impossible," Rose says.
"Isn't it?" the Doctor says with a grin. "Brilliant."
"Brilliant, yeah," Rose says. "When I touch her, I can feel her. Like, breathing."
"What does it feel like?" the Doctor asks. He's felt it, too, but the novelty has long since worn off. The TARDIS is his old girl; she's been with him for years. This is all new for Rose.
"Like time," Rose replies. She smiles and takes his hand, pulling him closer. Tenderly, her other hand comes up to caress his face. Her thumb brushes against his lips. And then, standing on tiptoe, she kisses him softly.
"It feels like home," she says.
Later, clambering out of the TARDIS, (which is so much smaller on the outside, Rose isn't sure how her body managed to fit through it so easily the first time,) she asks him, "Why a briefcase? You said she has a sort of perception filter on her, yeah? So why did you make her a briefcase?"
"Easier to carry around than a telephone box," the Doctor replies.
"Mmm," says Rose in understanding (although she doesn't really understand what a telephone box has to do with space-time, either). "Will you take me on a trip in the TARDIS? As a Christmas present?"
"Do you want to see the future or the past?" the Doctor asks.
"The future," she says without hesitation. They share a grin.
"It's a date," he says. "We can get chips."
"Chips of the future," Rose says. "I can't wait!"
Break comes; Rose goes home to her mum, who spends two and a half weeks fussing over her and talking about how lonely she's been and the man she's been seeing; break goes. Soon Rose is back at Hogwarts, a second-semester Seventh Year.
With graduation suddenly so fast approaching, Rose begins to lose interest in her classes. She still has no idea what to do with her life. Martha wants to be a Healer; Mickey wants to be a broom mechanic; Charlie wants to work with dragons. Both Jack and Tonks are going to Auror school, Amy has already signed on to model for Witch Weekly, and Rory's looking into being an Assistant Healer. Rose has no passions - she's decent at Quidditch, but not decent enough to make a team. The only class she still likes is the Doctor's class - partly because Defense Against the Dark Arts has always been her best subject, and partly because the Doctor awards her very well for her good marks in his class. (She has discovered his oral fixation, and she takes advantage of it whenever possible.)
"Come back to Earth, Spaceman!"
The Doctor's head snaps up.
"You done sulking?" Madame Donna asks him, picking up his empty glass and wiping the counter off.
"I'm not sulking!" the Doctor says. "I'm thinking."
"About what?"
"A girl - a friend - I have this friend," the Doctor says. "Her name is Rose."
"Rose?" Donna asks. "Like, the Hogwarts girl who always comes in with that huge group of people? How friendly are you?"
"We're…together," the Doctor admits.
"With a student?" Donna asks. "Have you and her…?"
The Doctor is silent.
"Okay," Donna says, processing the information. "Well, she's seventeen, at least?"
"Eighteen," the Doctor says. "She turned eighteen in March. She brought in cupcakes with edible ball bearings on top for the two of us to share - brilliant idea, edible ball bearings. Did you ever have one of those little cakes with the crunchy ball bearings on top?"
"No," Donna says. "Doctor, what are you going to do about this?"
"I dunno," he replies. "Nothing. Try not to get caught. But if we do, I'll be the one to get in trouble, not her. That's what's important."
"Oh," Donna says, understanding dawning on her. "You love her."
He swallows. He's never said anything of the sort allowed, has never heard it said aloud, and Rassilon, is his really that obvious? "I'm always in some kind of trouble, anyway," he says. "Good at running, me."
"You do have a pair of legs on you," Donna says. "Even if you are thin enough to give someone a paper cut during a hug. Just…try to be careful."
The Doctor nods, and she refills his drink.
Rose's Christmas present comes belated, in the middle of May. It's a Saturday afternoon, and she hasn't seen the Doctor since her last Defense Against the Dark Arts class on Thursday. NEWTs are coming up, and she has to spend every spare minute studying.
"I know I said I wanted to visit the future," she says, running her hand along the TARDIS console, "but instead can we go somewhere nice and quiet, in the past?"
"Sure. Somewhere adventure-free," the Doctor replies, changing the settings of the TARDIS and pulling a lever. "Stress-free."
"We can just be us," Rose says, taking his hand as the TARDIS rocks and whirs into the time vortex.
They wind up in a secluded area in the Jurassic period, watching pterodactyls fly over newly formed arched rocks. Reflected in the streamy pond below them, Rose can see the silhouette of her body next to the Doctor's, joined by their clasped hands.
They are silent for a long time, taking in their surroundings.
"No human has ever seen this before," the Doctor says quietly after some time.
"We're the first," Rose says. She squeezes his hand, still looking straight ahead.
There is another lull in their conversation - another comfortable silence. The Doctor is, again, the first to break it.
"How long are you going to stay with me?" She can feel him turn to look at her.
She turns and meets his eyes. "Forever," she says, unable to suppress her smile. He smiles back at her. It's the biggest promise she's ever made, but she's never been in love before this, and she can't imagine ever not needing him.
More than that, she can feel his hand tighten around hers, and the way his eyes meet hers with simultaneous tenderness and desperation, and she knows. He needs her.
Their relaxing trip to the past does not last long.
Sometimes the Doctor has brilliant ideas that come after not much thinking. Apparently visiting the Jurassic period was one of those ideas.
"Run!" the Doctor shouts, tightening his grip on Rose's hand. With his free hand, he points to a Ceratosaurus, a 20-foot-long carnivorous dinosaur that is charging at them.
"Into the TARDIS!" Rose yells. She pulls her wand out of her pocket and wordlessly casts a Protego Totalem spell around herself and the Doctor. "Time Lords first," she says, opening the briefcase with a flick of her wand and then sending a jet of fire at the Ceratosaurus.
The Doctor jumps into the TARDIS, and Rose follows, snapping the door shut just as the dinosaur reaches the briefcase.
The Doctor presses a few buttons on the TARDIS and sends her spinning into the vortex as Rose sits down and catches her breath, laughing.
"Is it always this dangerous?" she asks him. "Travellin' time?"
"Yeah," he says. "Well, no. Once I met Elvis - on his home planet, mind you - and we just got really drunk - well, he got drunk, I just had a banana smoothie - and sang karaoke together. He signed a guitar for me - it's probably lying around the TARDIS somewhere, actually -"
Rose interrupts him with a kiss, and he seems to relax in her arms.
"Are you always this spastic after travellin' time?" she says, pulling him into a tight embrace.
The Doctor chuckles. "Rose Tyler," he says. "You were brilliant out there."
"I learned from the best," Rose says. "Thank you for taking me here."
"Well, I only take the best," the Doctor replies, pulling out of her arms to look at her. He grins. "I'm so glad I met you."
She grins, tongue between teeth. "Me too."
The Doctor has never made love in the TARDIS console room before. He's brought a few people here in the past - a wonderful woman named Sarah Jane, an idiot named Adam, and even some people who are dead now, or who have forgotten him: Susan and Romana, Jamie and Zoe.
But no one has stayed except Rose. No one has bared their self to him the way Rose has. He finds it beautiful, that she trusts him this way. Beautiful and horrible, because he doesn't deserve her, because he's not a man who should be trusted or loved.
But she strips him of his clothing and defenses, and he pushes her against the console, and she murmurs a quick protection spell as he pushes into her. She drops her wand, spreads her legs, wraps her arms around his neck, hooks her calves around his thighs. He can't kiss her very well in this position, but he can whisper in her ear between gasps and sighs. He has so much to tell her, but all he says is her name in a rhythm that matches his thrusts and her moaning.
He wants to show her the stars. He wants to orbit a supernova with her, watch a sun burn up from the safety of the TARDIS, visit planets with two suns, find black holes with impossible planets still safely orbiting. He wants to take her to Woman Wept to see the giant frozen crystalline waves of saltwater, or to a space station satellite in the year 200,000 so she can see what the future has in store for the human race. He wants to take her to a Space Quidditch match, a game that won't be invented for another couple thousand years. He wants to bring her along with him back in time to meet Merlin himself, with whom the Doctor is on fairly good terms already.
He's seen a lot in this universe, and he wants to show it all to Rose. If he believes in one thing - just one thing - he believes in her.
When they return back to the future, to their original time, it's dark out.
"Must've missed the mark by about four hours," mutters the Doctor as he helps Rose out of the TARDIS. "You'll be okay, just tell anyone who sees you walking around the castle that you've been with me in detention and I just let you out."
"Detention," Rose says, playfully. "That's something we've never tried before. You could keep me here for hours…punish me…"
"Minx," the Doctor says, kissing her. "I'll see you later."
"Not if I see you first," says Rose with a giggle. She kisses him softly once more for good measure and leaves his office.
She can't stop herself from smiling as she ambles down the corridors, in no hurry to get to the Gryffindor common room, where she knows Jack will drill her about what she and the Doctor have done. (Jack knows about the Doctor and Rose's secret relationship - he's her best friend, and she isn't going to keep this kind of thing away from him. But for someone so loose in his own personal life, Jack is very protective of Rose's business. She knows it's because she's his best friend, and he doesn't want to see her hurt. But she's happy right now - she's so happy. The Doctor has shown her a better way of living her life. She doesn't just give up or let things happen to her anymore. She makes a stand, and she says no. People can try to split her and the Doctor up, but they never ever will. Jack underestimates Rose's determination.)
She is so caught up in her thoughts that she doesn't notice someone else walking along the corridors until she walks straight into them.
"I'm so sorry!" she says, stepping back to see Martha, rubbing her shoulder slightly. "Oh! Martha! Listen, er - I know it's late and you're Head Girl and so technically you should give me detention, but -"
"Rose?" Martha says, her eyes wide. "Is that really you? Thank God." She pulls Rose into a hug, taking her by surprise. "Where have you been?"
"In detention with the Doctor," Rose says, patting Martha's back. "Why, did something happen?"
"Did something happen?" Martha repeats incredulously. "Rose, you've been missing for four days!"
The Doctor's words, Must have missed the mark by about four hours, play over in her head. Four hours? How could a Time Lord make such a stupid mistake? He's got the time vortex running through his head, for god's sake!
"Do you know where you've been?" Martha asks her, concerned. "I mean, are you okay?"
"I've been…travelling…with the Doctor," Rose says, unsure.
With a cautious tone, Martha asks, "Did he hurt you?"
"What? No!" Rose exclaims. "I was with him by choice!"
"For four days?" Martha says, raising her eyebrows. Timidly, Rose nods. "I'm going to have to tell McGonagall and Dumbledore you're alive. We've had search parties everywhere - the Room of Requirement, the Forbidden Forest, and everything."
Rose nods again.
"So…what were you and the Doctor doing?" Martha asks.
"It wasn't anything inappropriate, if that's what you're asking," Rose blurts.
"It wasn't," Martha says. "But thanks for clearing that up."
They wind up in Dumbledore's office, where Rose spins a tale to Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore about how the Doctor had needed someone to come with him to take care of some nasty living plastic that was inhabiting the underground area beneath the London Eye, and how she had happened to be there for tutoring and he had asked her to come along.
That's another thing the Doctor taught her: how to be cool under pressure. At the end, Rose feels proud that her ridiculous tale seems to have at least slightly convinced McGonagall and Dumbledore.
That is, until they all walk down to the Doctor's office together. McGonagall sternly tells Rose to wait outside but leaves the door cracked just enough for Rose to listen to what's going on inside.
The Doctor is even cooler under pressure, in a slightly more manic kind of way, but he still manages to make up an incredibly convincing story about how he'd gotten an owl about ghosts infiltrating a Muggle theatre in Cardiff, and how he didn't have time to send Rose away, so he took her with him to stop the ghosts from harming the Muggles.
"That is a fascinating story," comes the Scottish brogue of Professor McGonagall through the cracked door. "So which one is it - the living plastic, or the Cardiff ghosts?"
"What?" asks the Doctor.
"Well," says McGonagall, "I've just spoken to Miss Tyler, who seems to be under the impression that you two were in London, taking care of a plastic consciousness living underneath a giant ferris wheel."
"Ohhh!" the Doctor says. "That! Well, yes. After the Cardiff ghosts - or maybe before, it's been such a long few days, I can't quite remember - we did go to London and fight plastic consciousness. Funny how some of the details slip away from you when you're tired."
"Doctor," McGonagall says, her voice laced with a warning. "A teacher and a student go missing for days, show up together in the middle of the night with different stories, and we're expected to believe that some of the details just slipped away?"
"Minerva," comes Dumbledore's tired voice. "Let me talk to him. Why don't you see to your student? I do believe Miss Tyler is a member of your own House?"
"Yes," says McGonagall. "Of course." Rose scrambles away from the door at the sound of McGonagall's brisk footsteps coming closer.
"Hello, Professor," Rose says, trying to sound cheerful. Her shaky voice gives her away.
"Hello, Miss Tyler," McGonagall says. "Why don't you have a seat?" She gestures toward the floor.
"No," Rose says, "I'm comfortable standing. Thank you." Easier to run that way, if need be.
"All right," McGonagall says. She closes the door to the Doctor's office. No more eavesdropping. "Miss Tyler, did the Doctor hurt you in any way?"
"No," Rose says. "Why does everyone keep asking that?"
"You went willingly with him?" McGonagall asks, ignoring Rose's question.
"Yes," Rose says.
"And where did you go?" McGonagall demands.
"I told you - London. And - and Cardiff," Rose stammers.
"Miss Tyler," McGonagall says. "Rose. I have been in contact with the Ministry of Magic - the people who are in charge of dealing with matters such as enchanted plastic or armies of ghosts attacking Muggles - and for the past four days, all has been quiet, save for a speaking grandfather's clock sold to some Muggles in Liverpool."
"Well, the Doctor and I have done our jobs well, then," Rose says.
"Rose, where have you been?" McGonagall asks again. "There is no need to lie."
Rose sighs. Blinks. Furrows her eyebrows.
"Fine," she says. "Okay. We've been here. …Studying," she adds hastily. "For my NEWTs."
"I see," says McGonagall. "All right. That is all, Miss Tyler. You may go to bed."
Shaking, Rose makes her way to the common room, where no one is still awake to greet her. Quietly she slips into bed and falls into an uneasy sleep filled with stars and time and Bad Wolf.
"The Doctor's been sacked," says Mickey casually at breakfast the next morning. Rose chokes on her cereal.
"What?" Jack asks on her behalf, patting her back to help her breathe.
"Heard it from a Head Girl," says Mickey.
"You mean Martha," says Jack.
"Yeah," replies Mickey. "Apparently there was some impropriety with a student."
Rose stares down at a bowl of fruit in front of her, feeling Mickey's eyes boring into her.
"He admitted to it," continues Mickey, "and now he's gone. Good thing yesterday was the last day of classes, yeah?"
"D'you know who the student was?" asks the Fifth Year sitting across from Mickey, buttering some toast.
Rose holds her breath, daring a glance at Mickey. He looks at her as he says, "No idea."
Rose breathes a silent sigh of relief and smiles slightly at Mickey before looking back down, her eyes burning with tears.
"Lucky guy, whoever he was who got to sleep with the Doctor," Jack jokes. Under the table he squeezes Rose's hand comfortingly. "Or girl," he adds with a wink at the rest of the group.
"Yeah," Rose says, getting up so quickly she nearly upsets her chair. "I have to go - I forgot something in my dorm."
"See you later!" Jack calls after her. (As she runs out of the Great Hall, she can hear Jack loudly ask Mickey why he's sitting at the Gryffindor table again. Old habits die hard, she thinks. Or maybe he'd just come to the table to gloat. Or to forgive her. Probably a little bit of both.)
The tears are coming now. Rose can hardly see where she's going, but her body has memorized this route by now, and soon she's standing at the door to the Doctor's office, banging on the door.
It opens immediately. The Doctor stands, deflated, a broken version of the man she loves.
"Hello," Rose says.
"Hello," the Doctor responds. The ghost of a smile appears on his face.
"You told them?" Rose asks, wiping a tear off her face. "About us?"
"They guessed," he says.
Rose laughs a little through her tears. "We're not very good at hiding it, are we?"
"We weren't," he says, "no."
This makes Rose cry harder. Are they past-tense now? He's still here. He still needs her as much as she needs him.
"How long have we got?" she asks.
"I leave to board a train in two minutes," he says.
So soon. "I can't think of what to say," Rose says with another breathy laugh. She reaches her hand up to touch his face, to make sure he's still real and here and alive. (It would be nice if this were all a bad dream.) "Can I t -?"
"No touch," says the Doctor. "I'm -" his voice cracks. He swallows, looks down, and tries again. "I'm not allowed to see you."
"What are you gonna do?" Rose asks him, changing the subject, hopeful that he will tell her he's going to visit the lost moon of Poosh or something ridiculous, and he will ask her to come along, away from all this upset.
But he doesn't.
"I've got the TARDIS," he says. "Same old life; last of the Time Lords."
"On your own?" Rose asks.
He nods.
"What about you?" he asks. "Are you -?"
"I'm taking my NEWTs tomorrow," Rose says, "and if all goes well… I'm going to apply for Auror training."
The Doctor grins. "Rose Tyler: Defender of the Earth," he says. His smile fades slightly. Rose lets out a choked sob.
"Am I ever gonna see you again?" she asks him.
"You can't," he replies, swallowing, the corners of his lips turning down.
"I - I love you," she says, stepping closer to him. She can't stop it - she needs to be touching him - and she grabs his hand and laces his fingers with hers and kisses his knuckles.
"Quite right, too," the Doctor says. Shut up, she wants to tell him. She needs to hear him say it. She knows, but - it does need saying.
"And I suppose," says the Doctor, "if it's my last chance to say it…" he smiles softly at her. "Rose Tyler -"
"Doctor." Rose jumps apart from the Doctor, still holding his hand in hers, as Professor McGonagall walks toward them, a furious look on her face. "Your train will be leaving shortly," she says. "Your bags have already been taken care of." She glances down at their joined hands, her mouth a straight, white line. "It's time for you to go."
The Doctor swallows.
"I don't want to go," he whispers.
"Come along," McGonagall orders him.
He looks at Rose. Swallows again. Lets go of her hand and doesn't look back.
That's the last she ever sees of him at Hogwarts.
EPILOGUE
Three Years Later
He sets his blue briefcase down on the floor at his feet as he takes a seat at the bar.
"Banana butterbeer, please."
"The usual," says Donna with a smile, "of course." She pours his drink and hands it to him.
It's quiet. Late at night (or rather, early in the morning) in The Three Broomsticks. The Doctor is the only person here.
"I was just closing," Donna tells him, "but you can stay. You look like you need a friend… You look tired."
The Doctor forces a smile. "Been travelling," he tells her.
"It's been a while," Donna says. He nods. "You've missed out on a lot of gossip."
"Oh?" he says.
"Martha Jones and Mickey Smith, remember those Hogwarts students you taught a few years ago? They got married. Last month! Reception was in my bar - it's weird, watching them grow up and get married, and here I am, still single," Donna says.
"Sorry to hear about that," the Doctor says. He cares about Donna, but he's heard her complain about her love life many times before that he can't feign complete interest now.
One thing does catch his interest, though - Martha and Mickey, they were friends of Rose's. He remembers her talking about them.
And it's been three years, and he still thinks about Rose. What's she doing, where is she, is she happy, is she with people she loves? He hopes she is, but he hopes she isn't. Selfish. He wants her to be happy with him.
He read recently, in The Daily Prophet, that she graduated from Auror training. In one of the back pages there was a photo of the graduating class, and there she was, beaming and waving at the camera. Still just as blonde, still just as beautiful, but thinner. Older-looking. Not in a bad way. Just different.
He looks down at the bar in front of him. Scratched into the wood are the words Bad Wolf.
"This wedding party - Rose was a friend of Martha and Mickey," the Doctor says. "Do you remember her? Did you see her there?"
Donna nods. "Yeah, she was. I talked to her, a bit. She comes in here every once in a while. More often than you have, recently."
"Sorry," the Doctor says. "So - how's she doing? Is she happy?"
"She seems quite all right to me," says Donna. "Excited to be an Auror, and from the sound of it she's the best in her class."
"That sounds like Rose," says the Doctor with a smile. "Has she mentioned me? Said anything, ever?"
"Yeah," Donna says, smiling sadly at him. "She talks about you a lot."
"What does she say?" the Doctor asks.
Donna's eyes flick to the back of the room, and her lips purse into a genuine smile. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"
It takes him a fragment of a second to register her words, and then his heart begins to pound, and he slowly sets his drink down and turns around in his seat.
There she is, like in the photograph, but in color, in person, and beaming brighter. And he remembers that he had felt ecstatic when he was around her before, but he hadn't remembered exactly what it felt like until now, when she's standing across the room from him and his pulse is going crazy and his grin is manic and every sense is on fire.
He runs toward her, throwing away all inhibition, and she meets him halfway, a delighted laugh escaping her lips as he catches her and pulls her into a tight hug.
"Rose," he whispers into her hair. "Long time no see."
"I've missed you," she whispers back, wrapping her arms around him. "You're still you."
"Yeah," he says. "I'm still me."
"And - still got the TARDIS?" Rose asks, pulling out of his arms to look at him. She holds his hands in hers.
"Same old life," he confirms. "Travelling the universe in my tiny blue box. Not a bad life," he adds with a grin. This is untrue - it's been horrible and lonely and he's saved few and caused the deaths of many, and he's missed her.
"Better with two," Rose says.
"Rose Tyler," the Doctor says. He laughs and pulls her back into his arms.
"I love you," she sighs into his ear.
He hums, content. "I love you too."