"Good." The Doctor grasped Hermione's hand, and looked upon her thankfully. The first to admit it, the Doctor was very lonely. He sniffed the air loudly, and smiled excitedly, "dinner, I think?" He bustled into the dining area, and wormed his way onto a wooden chair, which had been summoned by Mr Weasley. Ginny sat one side of him, Harry sat the other. Hermione and the rest of the Weasley children filed into chairs, as Mr and Mrs Weasley loaded up the table with a whole host of plates, full and empty, as well as cutlery and cups full of drink.
"I hope you eat normal food, Mr Doctor." Mrs Weasley said politely as she started serving roast chicken up to her fledglings'.
"Well, if it smells like it tastes, then I'll love it," the Doctor began putting sprouts on his plate slowly, then added, " but it's just Doctor, if you don't mind. I'm not a fan of formalities."
"Okay then, Doctor." Mrs Weasley added potatoes to each near-empty plate. Mr Weasley leaned towards the Doctor from the other end of the table, and observed him munching cheerily on a whole broccoli. When all the plates were filled, Percy was the first to disrupt the mutually agreed silence.
"Doctor," he began, resting his fork and knife on the side of his plate, and reaching for his glass of pumpkin juice. "Who are you working for?"
"Me? I'm just a-"
"Madman with a box," Percy peered over his horn rimmed glasses accusingly, "we know."
"Don't be rude, Percy." Ginny snapped, glaring at her brother, who, in truth, she had never quite gotten along with fully.
"He's a Time Lord." Ron glared at Percy through a mouthful of chicken breast. The Doctor looked shocked as he stopped gnawing on a bone.
"Quite right, Ron." He drained his cup of juice and smiled proudly at Hermione. "Well done, Herm." Hermione blushed, and continued cutting up Ron's potatoes whilst he chomped on another helping of chicken. "I come from another galaxy, but wow, you humans do look like us!"
"You said your species died..." Harry murmured quietly.
Ginny stomped on his foot, and whispered warningly, "that's a bit rude, Harry. We're at the dinner table for Merlin's sake."
"It's ok, Ginny." The Doctor cut up his chicken, and talked between mouthfuls. "There was a war; long, terrible and bloody. I fought on the front lines. They all died." The Doctor looked down mournfully. "I was their death sentence. I thought there was another," he watched as the entire table ogled him, "but alas, he too is gone." The light from his eyes returned in an instant, as if this was a popular dinner time tale. "But you," he glanced around the table, catching everyone's eye purposefully, "you all have the same battle scarred look on your face as I've long forgotten." Mrs Weasley filled his cup of water, then set about refilling everyone else's. "So tell me." The Doctor spoke with such confidence that did not need to demand the information he wished; as Hermione had already experienced, the Doctor had an air of trustworthiness, and so, in turn, everyone helped retell the tale of the Great Wizarding Wars.
"I was a baby," Harry said after a minute of intriguing silence, "when I was attacked."
"Harry, you don't have to tell anyone anything." Mrs Weasley looked at the Doctor gingerly, but Harry simply waved her off, "no. If Hermione trusts him, then so do I."
"Me too." The Weasley children muttered unanimously, nodding their heads slighty.
"He's not a Muggle, dear." Arthur Weasley spoke softly, and stroked the back of Molly's hand. And so, each telling the Doctor a piece of the puzzle, the story was slowly retold. Each person telling of their involvement in great detail, and the only time the rhythmic story telling was broken, was when George spoke. "I...had a twin." He whispered, looking sorrowful. "His name is Fred." A fire kindled inside him, but died suddenly as he realised his mistake. "Was. He was called Fred."
"I wondered if I was seeing double." The Doctor said gently; if he had adopted another tone, this was considered rude, but the Doctor, instead, spoke softly, with tears in his own eyes. "I suppose you miss him."
"A fair assumption." George looked up slowly, trying to smile lightheartedly, but failed. "He was... killed." He pointed to his missing ear, "I lost two parts of me that day, and I'm glad to say it was me and not him." He looked down again, avoiding Molly's motherly gaze. "He wouldn't want to feel this pain." His voice was abnormally loud and out of tone, as if an invisible hand had grasped his throat tightly, letting only squeaks and whimpers out. He shook his head, and Ginny continued his part of the story graciously and without complaint. Her likeness to George was so striking that it was almost frightening to know that she, too, could look so heartbroken. Finally, after another good half an hour of talking solemnly, Harry uttered, "and he fell to the floor, a mere man." The Doctor was transfixed with Harry, and he mouthed the last sentence subtly, at last finishing his main meal. The light from the windows was no longer a bright white, but instead a deep purple, filling the shed with darkness. The only light was the constant fire, bathing the room in a heart warming orange. The meal was long since warm, and as the final clutters of cutlery were dying down, Crookshanks jumped onto Hermione's lap. Ginny was obviously tired, and she had nestled her head onto Harry's chest, and appeared to be drifting off. Molly and Arthur were cleaning up, and Hermione and Percy were making coffee's and plating up a cupcake each. George looked slightly happier, and was sat in an armchair by the fire after excusing himself. Ron and the Doctor were still talking.
"So what are these monsters?" Ron peered at the Doctor cautiously, "or are they aliens?"
"Aliens, and nasty ones." The Doctor grimaced, "they're called Memreaters- or rather Memory Eaters, only shortened." He shook his head slowly, "they're on Earth, as far as I can tell. I was summoned here by Herm, and quite clearly, they're attracted to her, however, I'm now debating whether there are more targets here than I first thought." He nodded his thanks at the still wary Percy, and sipped his hot coffee.
"What do you mean?" Ron, instead of coffee, had a hot chocolate, and was licking the cream off of the top.
"Well," his voice dropped to a whisper that was only audible to Ron, and then the Doctor continued, "George." His head inclined slightly to the hearth, where George was nibbling on a cake absent mindedly.
"I'm taking her downstairs." Harry nodded at Ginny silently, and picked her up. After moving the plant on the trap door, he descended down to the basement, and shut the door after him, still clutching Ginny in his arms.
"We're going down too." Molly and Arthur smiled politely after finishing their after dinner delights, and then Molly turned to the Doctor. "There's a spare room down there for you, if you'd like it. Don't go zooming off just yet," she smiled wider, "we haven't heard about you yet."
"That'd be splendid, Molly." The Doctor stood up and shook the two Weasley's hands vigorously, and nodded his thanks as he sat back down next to Ron. George went down the hatch as well, merely grunting as he went. Hermione was washing up when Ron thought it was safe to talk again.
"What do you mean, George?" Ron finished his hot chocolate, and began devouring his cake.
"Well," The Doctor said purposefully, "out of anyone I've ever met, he seems to be the most..." He racked his brain for the right word, "lost."
"Lost?" Ron had moved down a seat, and spread his legs on his old chair.
"He seems so distracted, or is that because a stranger is in the nest?" The Doctor turned his nose up at the bitterness of his coffee, and produced a sachet of brown sugar from his jacket pocket, and poured it in.
"No, you're right." Ron yawned, catching Hermione's attention. "Are you okay Mione?"
Hermione shook her head, as if waking herself up from a daydream and smiled widely, "yes, thank you. Not plotting anything, are you?"
"No!"
"Of course!" Ron and the Doctor chuckled at the same time, and Hermione simply turned back to the pile of dished she'd offered to clean. "So," the Doctor continued, "does he want to forget?"
"Would you?" Ron retorted, a little too quickly.
"Hermione did." The Doctor said sharply. "And she's as brave as he is."
"You have a point." Ron wiped his nose on his sleeve.
"Memreaters are usually harmless; feeding off the energy someone uses to try to forget, they cause no physical pain."
"Physical?"
"I don't know how much of Hermione you saw over the holidays, but she seemed quite distressed when I found her."
"You mean broke in."
"Rescued."
"Well no-"
"Either way," the Doctor said loudly, cutting Ron off, "you can plainly see that she was emotionally pained. I doubt she's the kind of person to hurt herself, but I am going to check."
"Don't bother," Ron rolled his eyes, "she's too smart for that."
"Do not think of it as a matter of intelligence, Ron, even the smartest of us need to cope." The Doctor said firmly, silencing Ron. "You can agree, however, that she is saddened by what she saw and her parent's reluctance to let her come back to this world. So there, they do not attack or kill, only feed. Barely even parasites, they merely prevent the host to stop forgetting."
"And you think they might like George's energy?" Ron seemed to be picking this up quite quickly.
"They may, however I could only trace them on Hermione."
"All that about mother's love?"
"I don't want to scare them, but I need to get rid of them. If they want to forget, then the Memreaters shouldn't interfere." The Doctor frowned, "it's strange, though. They usually go for little things like forgetting when you fell over in front of the entire class, or when you spilt tea over your mother-in-law. Why something this big?" He looked at Ron apologetically, "I'm sorry Ron, but I have to know why. I'm going to have to observe both Hermione and George for at least another day before I can get rid of them."
"Just..." Ron glanced over at Hermione, who was dancing to Dusty Springfield, and sighed emotionally. "Just don't hurt her."
"I won't." The Doctor promised, "not if I can help it."
"Ok..." Ron nodded, satisfied, and stood up. "I'm off." He turned fully to Hermione, and spoke loudly, making her jump. "I'm going to bed, are you coming?"
"In a minute!" Hermione chirped, and continued dancing. Ron nodded his goodbyes to the Doctor, and climbed down the hatch. It was now nearing midnight, and the shed grew cold.
"I can finish that." The Doctor stepped beside Hermione.
"If you're sure?" Hermione's hair was still up and scruffy, but now her painted nails were chipped, and her hands were wrinkled from the soapy water.
"Yes, go to bed, Herm. We've got a big day ahead of us!" The Doctor grasped Hermione's shoulder, and directed her to the trap door, the plant was still beside it.
"Why," she looked at the ragged man, "what's tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow is our next big adventure!" He grinned, so excitedly it was almost scary, "have you ever flown a spaceship?"
"I rode a dragon..." Hermione said matter-of-a-factly.
"You're no fun." The Doctor pouted and watched Hermione disappear down to the basement. "Goodnight, Hermione."
"Goodnight Doctor." Hermione said sleepily, and shut the door behind her. The Doctor finished scrubbing the dishes and, at seven minutes past midnight, put down the dishcloth, and wandered down to the basement. Bathed with the same healthy glow as the upstairs, the bedroom area was welcoming. The Doctor popped into the bathroom, and brushed his teeth with the spare toothbrush with his name- or title, if you prefer- on. He combed his hair with a large, red brush, and drifted into the spare room. He took out the contents of his pockets, and dumped them carelessly onto a desk. He pondered, for only a moment, then stole away his sonic screwdriver, crept back out of the room, and popped his head around Hermione and Ginny's door. From afar, he scanned Hermione silently.
"Stronger..." He said dreamily, he too, finally getting weary of the day. "How much does she want to forget?" He slunk back to his bedroom, flung himself on the spare bed, curled up, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.