Author's Note: I'm writing this after being particularly inspired by a prompt from The Houses Competition, in which I am participating as devout Ravenclaw writer. Fellow team member, TheCrownprincessBride, was just as enthusiastic about the ideas I was – and so I have chosen to breathe life into now.

(Gosh, I hope you like it because I'm super nervous lol*cries)

Read & Enjoy

Hermione tried desperately to sneak into the second floor girl's bathroom; nobody dared to enter after Moaning Myrtle, but especially so after the events of her second year at Hogwarts. She would have avoided it, too, was she able to make it to the Prefect's bathroom without being noticed. Hermione had stayed to help the Doctor repair his spaceship, particularly the outside that was more than a little banged up from the shotty escape job. But she'd forgotten to wash her hands before leaving and it was very obvious once she did notice.

Her feet carried her quickly through the halls, just as fast as when she'd been when trying to outrun a Cyberman just a couple of hours ago. The floppy-haired Doctor had disappeared and she was left chasing after him, hoping that he'd show up in time with the TARDIS to save her; hoping that she wouldn't have to find out if her magic worked on that particular planet; and hoping that she'd live to see her friends again. Though, not until a proper wash.

"Bloody hell, 'Mione, where are you going?" Ron's voice erupted unexpectedly behind her. She grabbed the railing to stop, and she still stumbled a bit. Without a doubt, her hair was a bigger mess of frizz than normal, and she knew that her brow was wet with sweat. Panic swelled in her chest as she realized that she'd never actually considered telling anyone about her trips with the Doctor, or even that he existed. There was something special about her trips with the Time Lord that made her want to keep him secret.

Stuttering sounds rather than words, Hermione barely managed to say anything coherent. "Huh?"

"You're running like you've gone mad," Ron commented as he stepped nearer. Involuntarily, she backed away from him, her hand still on the railing. Her eyes wanted to glimpse down to see if she left blue residue from the paint that she had reapplied to the TARIDS. It was a shade of blue so beautiful that she'd barely noticed the stain on her hands even after she left. "Is everything okay?"

Hermione could tell that he saw how frazzled she was, how panicked. Uneasy about lying to him, she just shrugged her shoulders with a false smile. "I'm great, perfect even!" It wasn't wrong. It was absolutely great being back at Hogwarts where everything is familiar. It was completely perfect that she wasn't not dead. These were not lies, Hermione reasoned.

"Listen," she mumbled, "I've got to go to the loo. I mean, I really need to go…"

Hoping that Ron would reach his own conclusions, Hermione turned and began to sprint away. It was hard to be unsure if she left any blue paint on the railing, but didn't have to be unsure for very long….

"But – why are your hands blue?" he called after her.

Acknowledgements:

Thanks to my husband and son, who both listened to me read this aloud and gave input on any bits that sounded off or needed clarity.

Thanks, also, to 2DaughtersofAthena for the read through before I posted.