Chapter #2

Dr. McCoy did finally release her from sickbay, with the suggestion that she ought to get some rest and have some food. She was in her new living quarters now, trying to settle in and clear her head, but it seemed impossible. All she could do was pace back and forth and think about home. She had to get back home. Her friends needed her. Harry needed her.

What would they do when they realized she'd gone missing? Would the Ministry know what happened to her? Would they be able to bring her back, somehow? Had her friends managed to find Sirius and save him? And would they blame themselves for her going missing? What would they think, that she'd simply vanished into thin air? That she was dead?

She would drive herself crazy if she kept this up. There was nothing she could do at the moment. The reality of her situation wouldn't change the more she thought about it- but it was tearing her up inside and she simply couldn't help herself. Her mind felt like a broken record.

Focus on the facts, she told herself.

Fact. She was sixteen years old. She was a student at Hogwarts. She was in Gryffindor house. She had two best friends, Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley. Her parents were dentists. She was not dead nor was she dreaming. She'd had a time travel mishap and was now in the care of Starfleet- more specifically, at this moment, she was in the care of Captain James Kirk. Dr. McCoy was the chief medical officer and a good doctor. She trusted him. Officer Spock was a Vulcan and he knew she was a witch. She trusted him as well.

Disturbingly, she could still feel his presence in her mind. It felt strangely intimate. A sort of echo from when he'd performed a mind-meld with her.

She needed her wand back. That would make her feel better. But she was too frightened to venture out of her quarters. Everywhere she looked there were buttons and levers and flashing lights. She knew absolutely nothing about anything in this world, and that made her feel horribly helpless. All of this technology and she didn't understand any of it. She didn't even know how it was possible to travel outside of the solar system. The very ship she was on was a mystery to her.

Her living quarters were quite small, but adequate. She could pace the entire length of the room in eight steps. Her bed was tucked away in the far right corner. The bathroom was in the left corner. A simple dresser by her bed had a mirror above it so that while she paced she would occasionally glance at her pale, drawn reflection, as if to remind herself that she was still Hermione Granger.

A buzzing sound came from the intercom near the door, drawing her out of her wheeling thoughts. She went up to the intercom and studied the buttons on the keypad.

Which one?

"Hermione, this is Captain Kirk. May I come in?"

If I can figure out how to open the bloody door, she thought. "Yes, of course… just a moment," she called through the door.

"Hermione?" His voice crackled over the intercom.

"Just a moment," she muttered, taking a wild guess and jabbing at a circular black button. The white metal door slid open with that familiar soft hissing noise, and Captain Kirk gave her a charming smile, his blue eyes sparkling. She could get used to that smile. "Hello, Captain," she said.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you. I just… ermm… don't know how to work this thing." She pointed at the keypad and tried not to blush.

"Oh, well it's simple really." His easy American accent made the words roll off his tongue quite smoothly. "This opens and closes your door," he pressed the black button and her door slid shut, "and this turns the speaker on." He pressed a red button. "You have to hold it down to talk. And… let's see… if you need to reach someone you dial their code. There should be a directory in here somewhere." He glanced around her room then looked down at her. "I thought you might be hungry. Would you like to have dinner at the officers' table tonight?"

"Err… okay," she said weakly.

He gave her a quick grin and pressed the button to open her door. "Then I'll escort you there, Hermione. Do you need a minute?"

She looked down at herself. She'd swapped her hospital gown for simple black trousers and a black shirt that Dr. McCoy had given her. "No," she said, "I'm ready. Thank you, Captain Kirk."

He offered her his arm and she placed her hand on it, unable to ignore the well-defined bicep under her fingers. She really ought to eat something, and staying cooped up in her quarters probably was not healthy. And there was something to be said for being escorted to dinner by a very handsome young captain. At least now she had a distraction.

"How do you like my ship?"

"It's very… impressive." She wanted to ask him if it was safe, but even hearing the question in her head made it sound silly, uninformed. Of course it was safe. Though the way Dr. McCoy talked, the thing was a death trap. Travelling through space on a starship was incredibly perilous.

He led her down the wide white corridor and they turned down another hallway. She caught the smell of food in the air and realized she was in fact starving. "Are you settling in all right?" he asked her as they walked into a very large room packed full of people. Everyone seemed to be wearing either blue, red, or yellow shirts and black trousers.

"Yes, I suppose so." She glanced at Captain Kirk's yellow shirt. "Do the colors mean something?"

"Gold is Command, blue is Science, and red is Operations," he said.

She saw a lot of red shirts. They sat at a round white table with Dr. McCoy and a pretty blonde woman in a blue dress. There was a machine in the center that looked a bit like a microwave. Captain Kirk reached forward, punched a series of numbers into a keypad, and the machine beeped several times. A plate full of food materialized inside it. He slid the plate over to her with a grin. "A replicator. There's one in your quarters by your table."

Hermione stared down at her roast beef and mashed potatoes. They smelled real. She poked at the potatoes with her fork and tasted them. They tasted real as well. But she didn't trust them. How was it that she could trust magic so implicitly, yet she didn't trust this muggle contraption? She never would have believed herself to be closed-minded, but there it was. "Is it safe?"

"Perfectly safe, my dear," said Dr. McCoy. "This is Dr. Carol Marcus, our resident weapons specialist. Dr. Marcus, Hermione is our mysterious time-traveller."

"Welcome, Hermione." She had a cool British accent. To Hermione's ears, it sounded like home. She had to swallow the sudden lump in her throat.

"And our communications officer, Lieutenant Uhurua. And you've already met my first officer," said Captain Kirk.

Hermione looked up at Mr. Spock and his tall, leggy companion. "Pleased to meet you," she said, thoroughly distracted at the realization that the women around her were wearing rather revealing uniforms.

"If you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask," said Lieutenant Uhura.

"Thank you." She forced herself to eat the food in front of her, aware of both Dr. McCoy and Mr. Spock watching her. She really was hungry, but it took effort to clear her plate. She felt as though she was merely going through the motions.

"You're looking a bit pale, my dear- are you sure you're all right?" Dr. McCoy asked her.

"Doctor, given her circumstances I believe Miss Granger has the right to be slightly withdrawn."

"Now look here, Spock, I'm just concerned for the poor girl! She's been through a massive upheaval and I think she should be under medical surveillance."

Hermione felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. She'd clearly been the topic of much conversation between Dr. McCoy and his fellow crewmates. Apparently they'd clashed on the matter, too.

"You performed a full physical examination and gave her clearance, Doctor."

"Being physically healthy does not mean she is all right, Mr. Spock. As I'm sure you know."

"I'm all right, Dr. McCoy. Really. I'm just in a state of shock, I suppose," she said softly.

"Have you finished your meal, Miss Granger?" Mr. Spock asked her.

She didn't think she could manage to eat any more, even if she tried, even though she knew she was still hungry. She wondered if she'd been unconscious for very long before waking up in her hospital bed. "Yes." She pushed it away from her.

"Then shall we start your tour of the Enterprise?"

Hermione almost wondered if he was trying to rescue her from the situation, if he could tell somehow that she was very uncomfortable and mentally unprepared for fielding questions from his fellow officers. It was a nice thought. "Please," she said, standing up. "Thank you, Captain Kirk, for escorting me to dinner," she said, and was rewarded with a charming smile.

"My pleasure, Hermione."

She bade goodbye to the officers' table and followed her tour guide out of the dining hall. He led her down the wide white corridor and stopped in front of a door. "The turbolift," he said, pressing a button on the wall. The door slid open to a rather cramped circular lift. She stepped in after him and watched the door hiss shut. "This will take you to whichever deck you choose. Deck six is engineering. Would you like to learn how the Enterprise is powered?"

Despite herself Hermione had to smile. She may be three hundred years into the future, and Mr. Spock may not be human, but he was still male and males still apparently thought the most interesting part of any machine was the engine. At least that had not changed. "I would like that," she said.

He pressed six on the keypad and her stomach jumped into her throat as they shot downwards. Turbolift, indeed. She swallowed nervously at the thought of being locked inside a metal canister that seemed to be in freefall. "I believe this is yours." Mr. Spock pulled something out of his pocket- her wand.

She took it from him and squeezed it tightly, to make sure it was real. The relief was almost instantaneous. It swept through her like a ripple of electricity. She looked down at her wand and wondered yet again what she would do if she couldn't make contact with the magical world. "Thank you," she whispered, trying not to get too emotional, and failing miserably. She leaned against the wall of the turbolift and began to cry. Tears dampened her cheeks and she sniffled quietly. "Sorry."

"You are human," he said. "I do not understand the emotions you are displaying, however I do accept them, Miss Granger. There is no need to apologize."

She couldn't quite tell if he was trying to comfort her or merely stating a fact. Both, perhaps. "Do Vulcans… not have feelings?"

He turned to her and tilted his head, considering. "Vulcans feel very deeply. That is why we choose to control our feelings." He clasped his hands behind his back and stepped forward as the door slid open. "May I ask what that is, and why it is of such importance to you?" He nodded at her wand as they stepped out into the engineering deck.

Hermione was too distracted to answer him. "This is amazing," she said faintly, wandering up to a metal device that towered over her. "Does it use nuclear power, then?"

"Most Federation starships utilize a matter-antimatter reaction within the warp core." Mr. Spock's eyebrows were quirked up slightly. "Which is over here, Miss Granger."

She followed him wordlessly, gawking around in awe. In her wildest imagination she wouldn't have guessed this was what the future looked like. "Antimatter?" she echoed weakly.

He nodded at a glass-plated door. "Behind this is the warp core. The radiation emitted from it is quite lethal." He placed his hand against the glass and grew very still for a moment, apparently lost in thought. "I wish to learn more about you, Miss Granger. You are rather fascinating."

She blinked and snapped out of it. "Sorry," she said. "I… ermm…. this is my wand." She held her wand up and gave him a smile. "It's made of vine wood and has a dragon heartstring core."

"I see. It is used for what purpose?"

"To do magic, of course." She glanced around. They were strolling amongst a series of pipes that she could only guess might be used to cool overheated machinery. "Would you like to see?"

He stopped and nodded. "If you are willing to demonstrate."

"Lumos," she said. The tip of her wand lit up. "Knox."

"Are the words necessary?"

"Mostly, yes." Hermione frowned. "We haven't learned non-verbal spells yet. I believe that's NEWT- level magic."

"The educational institute you attend, what is it called?"

"Hogwarts." A quick pang of longing hit her and she felt tears forming yet again. "Would you mind if I used a spell on you, Mr. Spock? It's a perfectly simply charm." She wiped at her cheeks and smiled. "It's quite safe." When he inclined his head she pointed her wand at him and did a quick warming charm- it was rather chilly in the cavernous engineering room, and there was a small part of her that wanted to impress him.

Mr. Spock blinked and looked down at himself. "Interesting," he said. "What subjects are taught at your school?"

"Oh, a fair few," she said. "Transfiguration, Charms, Potions, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Herbology…"

"What are the Dark Arts?"

"Dark magic," she said gravely. "Curses, hexes, that sort of thing."

"Is that subject taught as well?"

"Goodness, no," she said in alarm. "Dark magic is dangerous, Mr. Spock."

"I see. Hogwarts does not teach mathematics?"

"No."

"Physics?"

She shook her head.

He looked almost shocked. "Chemistry?"

"I'm afraid not. You have to understand, Mr. Spock, witches and wizards aren't interested in science. Why learn physics when it doesn't apply to you?" She pointed her wand at him. "Accio communicator." His communicator flew out of his pocket and landed firmly in her hand. "Unfortunately it does mean most of the wizarding world has a very poor grasp on logic."

"I find such a world difficult to comprehend."

Hermione handed the communicator back to him. "It is strange," she said. "Most wizards don't know how electricity works, you know."

"I cannot imagine such a society developing in any significant way."

Part of her was tempted to be insulted, but she knew he was right. The wizarding world had not changed very much since the 19th century. To be sure, developments had occurred. They no longer threw werewolves in prison simply for being werewolves. Muggle-borns had been granted the right to sit on the Wizengamot. But very rarely was anything new discovered. New spells were almost unheard-of. "It is rather stagnant, I suppose." She bit her lower lip and pocketed her wand. "I don't think the wizarding world will have survived this long."

Mr. Spock took her back to the turbolift and they rocketed up to deck one. "I suggest not making such preliminary conclusions, Miss Granger." He looked down at himself. "I am still warm."

"It wears off eventually- most charms do. I can reverse it if you like," she said quickly, but he shook his head.

"I find it pleasant. Vulcans are accustomed to a higher surface temperature."

Hermione looked up at him, studied the way his ears curved up and his eyebrows arched. She'd nearly forgotten he was from a different planet- it was still so very strange to think about, even though she knew she was on a starship and far away from Earth. She hadn't noticed anyone else on this ship who might not be human. "Are you the only Vulcan on the Enterprise, Mr. Spock?"

"I am the only Vulcan in Starfleet."

"That must be lonely," she said before recalling what he'd told her earlier about Vulcans and emotions. "But I'm sure Starfleet is fortunate to have you."

He turned to her and gave a very small nod. "That is very kind of you to say, Miss Granger."

She blushed and smiled at him shyly. "What is your home like? Is it much warmer than Earth?"

"Vulcan had a higher surface temperature and a thinner atmosphere than Earth," he said. "It was destroyed three years ago. I consider Earth my home now." He stated it so calmly and without a hint of feeling.

The turbolift stopped and they stepped out onto the bridge. It was a large circular room, all shining and white with screens and keypads everywhere. A viewing screen dominated the very front. Lieutenant Uhura sat at one station and tapped at a screen rapidly, one hand holding an earpiece to her ear. She looked up and smiled at Mr. Spock in a way that suggested more than professional camaraderie.

"All operations are performed here," he said to Hermione. "Communications, navigation, defense and offense. This is our helmsman, Mr. Sulu, and our navigator, Mr. Chekov."

"Hello," she said, thoroughly distracted by what her tour guide had just told her, and by the way he said it. She couldn't fathom losing her entire world, despite knowing that she may very well be in that situation. Homeless. Never able to return to all of the places she'd grown to love. Oh, she would still have London. But not the London she knew. As far as she was concerned, Earth may as well be another planet.

"The transporter room is on deck two, as is the sickbay," said Mr. Spock. "Deck three contains numerous facilities- a physical fitness centre, a mess hall, several conference rooms. Living quarters are on decks four and five."

Hermione tried to pull herself out of her spiralling thoughts. Everything would be all right. She would find a way home. She had to. There simply was no other option. She couldn't possibly-

"Miss Granger?"

She snapped out of it and realized Mr. Spock was standing right in front of her and watching her with his dark, serious eyes. "I'm sorry," she said faintly, "I was… ermm… lost in thought."

He seemed about to say something, but changed his mind and went to the station beside Uhura's. He flipped a small switch and began to tap at a screen- Hermione stood behind him and peeked around his elbow to see what he was doing. When he finished he took out his communicator and flipped it open. "Captain Kirk."

"Kirk here."

"I request permission to use the microgravity chamber. For recreational purposes."

The communicator crackled noisily, the sound of Captain Kirk sighing. "Spock, have you ever heard of a little concept called being on a need-to-know basis?"

"Are you referring to willful ignorance, Captain?"

"No, I'm talking about… recreational…never mind, Spock. Permission granted, Kirk out."

Lieutenant Uhura laughed. Mr. Spock pocketed his communicator, his expression suggesting mild confusion. Hermione felt she'd missed something, but was too distracted by the term 'microgravity chamber' to give it too much thought.

"Microgravity?"

"I will show you one more part of the ship, Miss Granger. After that it may be prudent for you to retire to your quarters. You have had an understandably difficult day," he said.

That was an understatement if ever there was one. She merely nodded and followed him off the bridge. She felt on the verge of tears once more. The dull confusion and mild panic she'd experienced earlier had finally settled down, replaced by something much worse. Hopelessness. Real fear. Not the fleeting, reactive fear of earlier but a deep and sickening fear for herself. Her future. Her life. She could not function in this world. It was too much. Starships. Interplanetary governments. Antimatter, microgravity, warp cores…

Mr. Spock took her into a small air-locked room. One wall was made entirely of glass, and on the other side was another, larger room. "This is our microgravity chamber," he said. "I believe you may find it… therapeutic. Do not be alarmed." He dialled a number into the keypad- the bloody things were everywhere- and suddenly the glass wall disappeared into the floor.

"Alarmed by what?" she asked, turning to look at him and finding herself floating several inches off the floor. Her body felt strangely weightless. "What's happening?" she asked nervously.

He lifted his feet and gently pushed himself off the floor, floating slowly towards the ceiling. "There is very little gravity in this chamber. It is used for training and physical skill tests. There are many requirements for being a member of Starfleet, Miss Granger. Having the capability of performing physical activities in low-gravity settings is absolutely necessary."

Hermione watched a lock of her hair slowly drift upwards. "This is supposed to be therapeutic?"

Mr. Spock put his hands on the ceiling and pulled himself out of the small compartment into the larger room. "It will take a few moments for your body to adjust." He held his hand out to her and she took hold of it, letting him pull her along. The force of his movement sent her floating past him until her arm was completely stretched out as she gripped his hand tightly.

"Oh dear," she said, glancing down and immediately regretting it. She may be a mere fifteen feet above the floor, but even that height made her feel uneasy. But she had to admit that it wasn't an unpleasant sensation, being completely weightless. In fact it felt rather nice. Mr. Spock's fingers laced through hers' felt rather nice as well. She exhaled slowly and closed her eyes. "Oh, I like this," she murmured, aware that her body was slowly drifting upwards.

"I have observed that many humans find it easier to cope with their emotions when they are distracted," he said.

Hermione opened her eyes and looked up. Her hair fanned out and floated around her face, tickling her nose, and she brushed it aside. "How do Vulcans cope with their emotions?"

"Rigorous mental training and a dedication to logic." He released her hand and let her float away from him slowly.

"I see," she said, though she had a feeling she didn't see at all. Choosing not to feel. It was too alien a concept for her. As though whether to feel something or not was a choice one could make over a cup of tea. "Thank you for the tour, Mr. Spock."

"You are welcome." He leaned backwards so that he was floating on his back, his arms folded behind his head.

Hermione mimicked his posture and they floated like that for what felt like not a very long time at all. But when he helped her back into the little white compartment and raised the glass partition up, he informed her that they had in fact been in there for an hour. Readjusting to gravity was much less pleasant than adjusting to microgravity. She felt heavy-limbed, weary, but oddly enough, her mind had quieted down considerably.

He escorted her back to her quarters. "If you require anything, Miss Granger, do not hesitate to ask," he said, following her into her room.

Hermione stood in the middle of her room and chewed on her lower lip. There was one thing she'd noticed that had been niggling at the back of her mind since she'd settled into her quarters. She hadn't seen a single book anywhere. If there was anything that might make her feel a little more like herself, it was cracking open a good book and absorbing the information within it. "There is something," she said hesitantly, turning to Mr. Spock and looking up at him. "I…ermm… I like to read, you see, but I haven't seen any books here." She glanced around her quarters. Not even a bookshelf.

One dark eyebrow quirked up slightly and it seemed he was almost trying not to smile. He went to a small desk in the corner by her bed and pressed a button on the wall that she hadn't noticed. "Computer, access Starfleet's central information database," he said. A screen lit up on the wall. He tapped at it and drew up what looked to be an index of some sort. "The information system is quite easy to operate," he said. "Access history database- Earth." As he spoke the screen flashed and displayed new content.

She joined him in front of the screen and scanned it. "What is this?"

"Library Computer Access and Retrieval System," he said. "It can be operated through voice-command or by use of the touchscreen." He tapped the screen and drew up a page that appeared to outline the history of Starfleet. "You may find it more efficient to use voice-command. Computer, access all scientific articles on the subject of time travel."

The screen flashed again and showed a list of titles. Hermione carefully pressed her finger against a title. An article appeared on the screen. "Amazing," she whispered, feeling a bit faint at the prospect of having so much information available to her- and literally at her fingertips. "Thank you, Mr. Spock." She glanced up at him shyly. "Thank you for being kind."

He looked as though he wanted to say something, but didn't quite have a grasp on what that was. "You are welcome. I must return to my post now, Miss Granger. Have a pleasant evening." He turned on his heel and left.

She stared after him, watched the white metal door slide shut. A very strange man, to be sure. Were all Vulcans like that? One moment it seemed he was trying to make her feel better, and the next moment he acted as though this was all business-as-usual.

"Computer? Access… information about… Vulcans," she said slowly, feeling rather foolish talking to a screen, but when it flashed and filled with words she decided she could get used to this. It was not quite the same as curling up in bed with a book, but the ease of retrieving whatever information she wished more than made up for that.