A/N: Written for the HP Potions Competition over at HPFC. The dinner party aspect comes in for the second half. POV changes halfway through. Potion: Cheese-Based Potion

–

I had no idea where I was, and I had no idea how long I had been there. All I really knew was that first I had been in one strange place, and then shuffled quickly into another strange place; that I had not been in the second strange place for terribly long so far (less than ten minutes, I'd have guessed); and that I had been intent on Apparating to the Leaky Cauldron when I was taken. Needless to say, I was not in the Leaky Cauldron.

In the first place, I had been in some sort of wide room, with peeks at the sky outside showing pitch black- was I in space ship?- surrounded by a rainbow of robots staring in at me as though I were a source of confusion for them. At that point, I had convinced myself that I was dreaming. Then, three people had swooped in: two arbitrary young adults and him, the apparent leader of the operation, the man who had assaulted me, exchanged witty rapport with the robots, and then dragged me into what appeared to be a very old-school, bright blue police call box.

Unable to force words from my mouth, I thought very loudly and very clearly the incantation for the alert charm Hermione had placed on my belt. (As my trousers were still all about a half a size too large, I never went anywhere without putting on the belt, and no one was going to steal it, so it had been a natural first choice for the charm.) I focused on the incantation and Hermione, thinking loudly, hopefully at her, that I was in desperate need of her help.

I imagined the face of the man and the blue box as vividly as I could, unsure of how helpful the information would be. Hopefully with the help of the charm, she could Apparate to as near me as possible (she hadn't wanted the damned thing to give an exact location), see the call box- it was a bright hue and quite clearly labeled- and burst in to save the day like the genius she was. Think at her, I commanded myself, think.

Then, only moments later, there she was in the doorway, hair slightly mussed and eyes glowering in as sinister a manner as amber eyes possibly can. Her wand was trained directly on my attacker's back, and her voice- cold, harsh- carried well when she spoke:

"Turn around and face me." My assailant's expression changed at the sound of Hermione's voice. His eyes widened, his brows contracted (a rather comic effect it would have been were we not in a potentially life-threatening situation). These actions were not lost on his companions. Slowly, he turned his back to me and his front to Hermione. For a moment, she appeared crestfallen, but she recovered quickly, and this time when she spoke, her tone was not aloof, but low, dangerous. "You?" Personal.

So they knew each other, or at least had encountered each other before. "Me," he replied lightly, head tilting down in acknowledgement. "Now I know what this looks like, but-"

"What this looks like?" Her voice was shrill, and I knew from experience that a shrill Hermione was never a good thing. "It is what it is! You used me to get close to Harry for Merlin knows what reason!" She slung a nasty stinging jinx, which the man narrowly avoided by ducking under its beam.

"I did no such-"

Another hex flew despite his genuine tone. "Don't lie to me!" She stepped closer. And closer. Oh, no. The tip of her wand was pressed to his neck. "I'll give you credit, you did a splendid job. Plenty of research. I never would have expected a Death Eater or a sympathizer or whatever you are-" she prodded the wand just a small bit further into his skin- "to know the term 'doctor.' Certainly took me off my guard."

"I don't really know what you're-"

"I could tell you're good at reading people, but I had no idea the extent to which you were playing me." Her voice was hard. She withdrew her wand from his neck, and I was briefly reminded of the moments before she had slapped Draco Malfoy across the face third year(hard enough that he'd staggered, I remembered); ten years later, with that much more experience under her belt, what would this tone of voice mean? "What does a lonely war heroine need? Companionship, of course," she snarled. "Unadoring yet admiring. A way to forget- and, of course, you provided all that and more, didn't you, all while somehow siphoning information about Harry."

"Hermione, I-" his terse attempt at speaking was cut off by a groan of agony. He had been flung artfully against the nearest wall. One of his companions seemed to think that was her sign to speak up.

"I really don't think he knew," piped up the redhead. She spoke in a distinct Scottish accent, strong but not quite grating. "Well, actually, I think he knows everything secretly, but-"

"What I think she means to say," offered the tall, large-nosed man at her side- silently observant until this point- "is that the Doctor knew you two associated with one another but did not believe that this would cause any overlap." The ginger nodded. "Is that accurate, Doctor?"

The other man, the Doctor, jumped up from his position on the floor, index finger pointed up to the ceiling (which I could not find, no matter how hard I stared). "Actually, no," he said cheerfully. "Good guess, though, Ponds." The last sentence was said as an aside for his two companions, and after speaking it, he returned to address Hermione again. "I had no idea that you and Harry even knew each other, much less knew each other well enough for you to suspect that I was using you."

Something in his tone convinced her that he was being genuine, or so it seemed when she next spoke. "Then what's going on?"

The Doctor and his associates shuffled uneasily, like small children caught doing something they really shouldn't have been. "Have you ever heard of the Daleks?" the Doctor asked with small hesitation in his voice.

The term was only vaguely familiar to me, but Hermione- as usual- nodded vigorously, knowing exactly what he was talking about. "Of course. Anyone with a half-decent education in Dark creatures should have." Ouch. "Harry?"

"And here I figured you lot had forgotten all about me." I had rolled nearly halfway across the room during their confrontation and had almost reached my wand. "Care to get me out of this?" Almost instantly, my bonds disappeared. "Thanks, Hermione." I grabbed my wand from the floor in the corner before assuming my position to her left. Had Ron been present, he could've taken his position at my left and it would have been just like old times. "So, er, what's a Dalek again?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, sighing deeply. "Honestly, Harry, did you pay any attention during sixth-year Defense?"

"No," I deadpanned. That year had been Snape! "Can I get a quick review session?"

"Daleks," Hermione began in the textbook-recital tone that had lulled me to sleep several times during our school days, "are a species evolved separately from all others known to wizardkind. They're living, breathing creatures locked away inside a cold metal exterior- their technology is incredibly advanced, to the point that most wizards simply consider it another brand of magic altogether, like House Elves. Their most famous attribute-"

"is their hatred of beauty. Or, rather," the Doctor corrected himself, "their doctrine that hatred is beauty, to hate is beautiful, et cetera, et cetera. Also," he added quickly, looking at Hermione, "they're from another planet and your friend accidentally stowed away on their ship somehow."

"I was taken!" I insisted.

"Harry," Hermione said in a low voice, "did they get you while you were Apparating?"

"Yes, I-" a wave of comprehension seemed to rush over me. "Oh. I Apparated onto their ship."

"And we found you during our search onboard for human lifeforms and brought you back to the launch site," interjected the Doctor. "And then Hermione came to the party," he added, winking at her.

There was a brief moment of silence.

"Th- thank you," I stammered.

"It's kind of what I do," replied the Doctor. He was quite nonchalant about saving my life- had I been like that during the war?

Another moment of silence.

"I'm sorry," said the redheaded woman quite suddenly, "but did they say wizardkind?"

Hermione and I made eye contact. Oops, I mouthed.

–

I couldn't resist inviting them to the dinner party. I knew it was wrong to want to see him again- them again. I wanted to see them. He was a married man- on the edge of divorce, the whispering voice in the back of my head insisted on clarifying. Of course, being married certainly hadn't stopped Amy from spending so much time with Harry. I had a feeling that she reminded him of Ginny, and he reminded her of the Doctor.

I was drawn from my thoughts by a touch on the shoulder. I shook my head, as though physically ridding myself of my thoughts, and turned to make eye contact with Dean Thomas. "You want me to put these in there?" He gestured with one wineglass-laden hand- he had a stem of one stuck between each pair of fingers- towards the sink. I nodded, smiling now.

"Need some help?" I offered.

His entire face seemed to scrunch in towards the middle. "Nah, I think I'm alright. Hey, you should head back in once you've had enough peace and quiet. They're all wondering why you ran off," he added, inclining his head towards the dining area. That was where I had abandoned my guests for the solace of my kitchen approximately ten minutes before.

There were seven of them, as my table only sat eight and that was quite enough for me- it wasn't worth enlarging the table and the room for a dinner party too large for me to handle. Amy and Rory were attending, and Harry of course; also in attendance were Dean and Seamus, to whom I'd grown rather close lately- Dean through work at the Ministry, Seamus through Dean- as well as Padma and Daphne. Padma was another colleague, and Daphne was a friend of hers, a "reformed Slytherin," as she put it. She was alright.

They were all alright, but occasionally a woman needs a spot of alone time, yes? Yes.

Hardly a moment after Dean left the kitchen, the door swung open again. I grabbed the nearest bottle of wine and said as I turned to face the intruder- ahem, guest- "Would you like another glass of- oh." It was Rory. Rory didn't drink. (I suspected this was in part due to his wife's- eventual ex-wife's? I felt bad being so hopeful- behavior when drunk, or even slightly tipsy.)

"I'd like a glass, yes." He sounded almost haggard.

My jaw nearly dropped. "You don't drink, Rory. You never do."

"I do tonight." Due to the fact that I was frozen in place, he grabbed the bottle from my outstretched hand and a glass from the cabinet. So this was his first drink of the night.

"Er, what's so special about tonight?"

"Tonight, Hermione," he said, oddly focused on the task of pouring his red wine into a champagne flute, "makes one year since the last time we saw the Doctor." Merlin, it really had been a year. The time had passed quickly. "It also makes one year since Amy met Harry." He sipped from his glass, grimaced, and offered it to me. I took it from him gingerly, but didn't drink. "I think I'll try the white." Rory now busied himself with the next bottle. He fiddled with the cork, but when after a moment if didn't give, he set it to the side. Then his elbows were on the table and his face was buried in his hands, and he began to shake.

I set the glass down and stroked his back carefully from beside him. At first he stiffened at my touch, but after a moment he relaxed against it. "Explain, Rory," I said gently. "Please."

"Amy's leaving me for good," came his choked reply, muffled by his hands. "For Harry."

"Oh, Rory!" I lifted him from his bent position over the counter and wrapped my arms around him. Rather than the elation I'd half-expected (guiltily) to feel, I hurt for him. I felt his pain- he was beyond heartbroken. "I'm so sorry." I wasn't sure what else to say.

"What are you sorry for?" His arms lifted to wrap around me. He felt nice against me.

"I had all those get-togethers, and they always danced, and I always thought it was all in good fun-" like when we danced- "and maybe if I hadn't-"

"It would have happened anyways." He pulled me closer to him, tighter against him. "I think he reminds her of the Doctor."

I nodded. "And I think she reminds him of a girl he used to love. He lost her in the war."

"I suppose we can't do anything but let them have their illusions, then," he murmured into my hair.

I would love to say that we spent the rest of the night right there, in each other's arms, but there was real life to attend to. After a few moments, there was a loud thump of some sort in the dining room, sufficient to make us jump apart. (Upon later investigation, we discovered that Seamus had been leaning his chair back on two legs and Dean had pushed it forward onto all four, mocking Seamus for not treating my furniture properly.)

"Well, er," Rory said artfully. "I, er-" He broke off when a whirring, buzzing, impossible to truly describe noise was heard from the direction of the dining room. He pulled me by the wrist out of the kitchen, and I saw the bright blue police box, the box I'd seen the Doctor disappear in the last time I'd seen him, fading into existence in the front right corner of my parlor, which was just off the dining room.

Harry and Amy, apparently previously engaged in a conversation of some sort, now had their eyes glued to the- the- what was it called, the TARDIT? The TARTIS? Something along those lines.

The remainder of those in the room had their wands pulled, aimed directly at the door of the box.

"Wands down," I managed to command just before the police box's door flew open and the Doctor- looking no different than the day I met him- strolled out. My guests obeyed.

"Hello, Ponds and wizards!" the Doctor greeted excitedly. "Or, shall I say, hello, Pond and wizard, Williams and wizard, and set of wizards I don't know!"

"How did you know when to show up?" I asked, curious as to how this man had ended up in my home just in time for a dinner party.

"It just seemed right," the Doctor replied, adjusting his bow tie in the nearest mirrored surface. "Also Harry sent me an invitation. He said you wouldn't mind. Fabulous!" he cried, apparently having found his new favorite method of bow tie adjustment.

"Harry!"

He shrugged. "There was big news. I reckoned he'd be here in time to hear it. And we haven't seem him in a year, Hermione."

"Big news?" I cried, grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him into the kitchen. "Muffliato! Big news like how you're effectively a homewrecker? You could've waited for them to get their divorce, Harry!"

"It wouldn't have happened, and you know it!" Harry shot back. "They've been dancing around it for over a year! And you're not much better," he accused.

"What on earth does that mean?" I demanded icily. He rolled his eyes.

"You know exactly what it means! You and Rory have been pining for one another since you met!" My heart nearly skipped a beat, although I knew it wasn't the appropriate time to be having such thoughts. But- each other? Had it really been mutual? "You contributed to this just as much as I did. Hell, Amy broke the news to him and he ran straight to you." Harry leaned in now. "I'm the other man, but you're the other woman. Harder to judge now, isn't it?"

When we reentered the dining room, the Doctor had pulled Amy in for a hug, and Rory was standing off to the side, making awkward conversation with Dean about some football game or other I had a feeling neither of them particularly cared about and which I was almost certain neither had even watched. Seamus and the girls had returned to their own world of Ministry news, malfunctions, and gossip.

The Doctor whispered something into Amy's ear, and she pulled away from him, nodded, and approached me and Harry. He gestured for me to come speak with him. I, too, was treated to a Doctoral hug. "It's been too long," he said quietly. He didn't let me out of his embrace for a moment, and when he did, he pushed me away to arms' length, still holding me by the shoulders. "How's my favorite war heroine been? Not well, but well, I've heard. Treat Rory right," he added, firm but quiet. I nodded hopelessly. "I know Amy didn't always do so. He's a brilliant example of a human being if I ever saw one, and he deserves to be treated well. I'd tell him the same about you, but it looks to me like Harry's got a good hold on that duty." Sure enough, when I spun around, I saw Harry and Rorry quietly speaking while watching me- Harry looking determined and almost aggressive, Rory nodding warily.

"Harry Potter, lay off him!" I demanded, rushing over to put a stop to the harrassment.

It was going to be a long night.