I just got my very own laptop for my birthday, so hopefully more writing will get done now that I don't have to fight to use the family desktop. We'll see though.

Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Doctor Who.

Luna was pacing.

Back and forth, back and forth. She was aware of the people watching her through the rain as she covered the same patch of ground over and over, but she paid them no mind. Not that she didn't care about their problems – her dad in particular had cared too much – she simply had more important things occupying her thought process. So the poor wet buggers who lived in Hooverville in Central Park were pushed to the fringes of her mind along with the cold rain that soaked her through as she paced and worried.

"Something's wrong," she said to no one. No one responded.

The worst part was that she didn't know what it was. It had started as soon as they – she, the Doctor, and Martha – had arrived in 1930s New York, and the unsettling but unnameable feeling that something just wasn't right hadn't gone away. If anything it had gotten stronger over the morning as her father looked into the alleged 'Hooverville Mystery' and volunteered to work a tunnel collapse in order to find out what had been happening to the men who volunteered to work for a certain Mr. Diagoras. That had been early that morning.

Now it was past nightfall and they still weren't back and something was silently screaming a warning in the back of her mind like an itch she couldn't scratch. She knew from experience that if she felt something was off then it was off. Which was why the 'something' brushing the back of her mind left her on edge. Hackles raised. Waiting. But she didn't know what for.

A commotion broke her out of her musings. Despite the rain, men were beginning to gather together out of the dry safety of their ramshackle homes. She paused, looking around trying to see what had caused the change in the citizens of Hooverville, and caught sight of someone approaching down the muddy path. It was Solomon, the unofficial mayor of Hooverville. He had gone off that morning with Martha, the Doctor, and a man named Frank. Now he was returning alone.

"Mr. Solomon?" she called to him as he got closer. When the man turned to look at her she hurried to walk next to him. "Where are they?"

"At the theatre," Solomon replied heavily, and Luna let out a quiet breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Are they safe?"

"Later, kid. Go find somewhere covered and dry off." Luna waited for a moment for him to pass before following him. She trailed him to the 'town square' in the center Hooverville. There she watched, crouched beneath dripping canvas eaves as he called the men to action.

"The stories are true," he told the men. His voice rang clearly, and the fire flickering by his feet illuminated his face and the men around him through the slanted rain. "Men are being taken. Frank was stolen today, right in front of me." The men whispered, an undertone of disbelief and worry running through the crowd. "But no more. I swear to you, no more! I made a pledge that this place would be a peaceful place," he recounted, looking around at the people watching him. "But now it's time to take up arms. We need weapons. We need sentries on duty. We need men prepared to fight. We got to protect ourselves, 'cause no one else will. Now get moving! Arm yourselves, come on!"

A cry of approval filled the air as the men dispersed. Some moved further away from the warm safety of camp, slipping into the wet darkness to watch the park around them. Others went back to huts and tents to find guns or moved about the town, spreading word. Luna stayed crouched in the shadows, ignored. Hooverville was preparing for war. Against what? What had scared the humans so much? And whatever it was, what threat did it pose for herself, her dad, and Martha? Should she go find them?

"You stay here." A voice interrupted her thoughts as though in answer. Luna looked up in surprise. Solomon was standing there, face cast into shadow by the fire behind him.

"What?" Luna asked innocently.

"Your dad's orders. You stay here. Seemed to think you might go looking for him or some such," the old soldier told her.

"Why would he think that?" she asked him. The man fixed her with a look.

"No idea," he replied dryly. "If you're anything like him though, I completely understand his request." Luna grinned sheepishly and Solomon nodded. "Stick around and keep out of trouble."

She sighed, settling back into the shadow of the tent. "I'll stay here. Don't worry."

"Thanks, kid."

Luna dozed under the eaves. It was surprisingly warm and dry, and no one had bothered her since Solomon. After an hour or so the men had calmed and were now waiting for something to happen. The air buzzed silently with tension waiting to be released.

"Someone's coming!" A shout raised at the entrance of the camp had the men of Hooverville up and turning to face the intruders. Luna blinked awake, wondering what had raised the alarm. It was the small hours of the morning; no one should have been up or about. Unless…

She was awake in a second after that. They were back, she knew they were back. She jumped up, reaching along the bond she had with her father to make sure it really was them. She was pulled up short, however, as her dad's emotions swamped her. The Doctor was worried.

No. No, that wasn't right. He wasn't worried. He was alarmed, terrified. She had never felt him like that, not that she could remember. Furious, stubborn as hell, lonely, excited, melancholy, exuberant, worried, yes. But never filled with the horror he was broadcasting at the moment. Her sense of foreboding should have been listened to. But they had they had gone anyways and something had happened, something bad, something that scared her dad more than anything they had ever encountered together. On edge and somber, she headed to intercept them.

"Luna." The Doctor's voice hummed with relief. To the general passerby he looked fine, but Luna could see through the amazingly thick emotional shields he projected. While the men and women that had disappeared back into the streets of the shantytown the Doctor stayed hovering at the edge of the light.

"Are you alright?" Luna asked, allowing him to wrap her up in his lanky arms and hug her.

"I'm always alright," he told her offhandedly, but Luna knew what that meant. For him, alright might be synonymous with 'horribly terribly not-good at all.' He smiled down at her; his eyes were tired and old. "I think you should go back to the TARDIS."

Luna stiffened but didn't pull back. If he wanted her to hide away then things were more than just 'bad.' She revised her conclusion of something having gone wrong to something having gone horribly, painfully, life-threateningly wrong.

"What happened?"

"Daleks."

Luna closed her eyes briefly. She had never seen one, only heard her dad's stories. The machine encased beings that existed to cause genocides. The race that had fought the Time Lords, the aliens who had somehow survived when her people, her father's people, had not.

And once her dad named it, the feeling in the back of her mind made itself clear. It was the Daleks she had sensed on the most basic level, creatures in Time who shouldn't have existed anymore. It was a slimy feeling, a dead/metal/wrong feeling. A Gallifrey burning/ashes to ashes/dust to dust/everything dies feeling, sickly and dank, creeping through the back of her mind where Time shied away from the creatures. Luna shuddered, burrowing back into her father's embrace.

"How?" she asked, the only word she could work through her throat. How did they survive when the Time Lords didn't? How can they still hurt you, even after you've destroyed your entire race just to get rid of them? How will you stop them?

The Doctor shook his head above her, letting her cling to him just as he held on to her, supporting each other. "I don't know. Dalek Sec said it was an emergency temporal shift that led them here. Because somehow, they always survive." He laughed harshly, a bitter, cold bark in the darkness. "Always, they come back to take something from me. But I swear, Luna, I won't let them touch you." He pulled back a little to look her in the eye. "They could destroy the world around us, but they will not harm you." Because he would do that. He would risk the world if it meant she was safe from them. They would not take his daughter, his last connection to his people, the little girl who had helped him when he was alone and hurting after Rose, after the War. If there was only one thing he could give all thirteen of his lives for it was her.

"It'll be okay, Dad," she murmured, half-hoping half-seeing. "In the end, it will be okay. They wont win."

"I hope so, Lunette. I hope so."

They stayed like that for a few more moments, accepting comfort. Then a shout from the dark sent them back to camp, back to the town center to group in relative safety with the others.

Guns were gathered and men grouped together to face the threat. Solomon was shouting, his voice faint above the cacophony of panic. Fires sprung up around the shantytown. Some people tried to run, only to get caught by... pigs. Luna frowned, brow furrowed, trying to place the hybrid species. Pig-human hybrid, an engineered slave race probably.

Martha stood next to her, holding a log for the fire like it was a club. "Alright then," she said resolutely. "We'll just hold them off 'til morning."

"Oh, Martha," the Doctor sighed, looking over the scene tiredly. "These are just the foot soldiers."

Another shout was raised then, and Luna froze. In the back of her mind the buzz of wrongness intensified. People wailed around them, looking up in fear. Even the Doctor, eternally ready to face down anything, paused. Because there, floating high above the newly aflame sidewalks and fields of Central Park, were the Daleks.

Reviews are, as always, welcome.