Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter nor Doctor Who.

The Master was pacing back and forth across the flight deck. He was alone in the room, alone in the night, the fires of the burning world below him lighting his steps as he paced. Paced to the beat of the drums. Pacing and thinking. Thinking in the night, in the dark of the cavernous, empty room, in the flickering reflection of fire and death. Thinking about the Doctor.

And his daughter.

Little Luna. Puzzle Luna. Curious question Luna.

The Master, as a rule, was not big on affection. He did not 'like' things for simply being there. He enjoyed what things could do for him. What questions they could answer. What power they could grant. What boredom they could alleviate. For that reason, he was interested in Luna. Not caring, no. That was the Doctor, weak fool. Simply… curious. And unwilling to harm, though he couldn't for the life of him understand why. Perhaps because she was fragile, and he was afra- no, not afraid. Reluctant. Reluctant to damage her.

It was these thoughts that kept him up, kept him pacing alone in the dark. That, and his biological need for little sleep. And his impatience – men and Toclafane alike had been searching since he had first arisen to his position as Master of Earth a week ago, and still the girl was hiding down there in the wreckage, and the Doctor was worrying like… Well, like a father. It was almost disgusting. Though, if he admitted it, the Master did agree with his worry. Which was also disgusting.

It was pointless to brood about. If the girl got herself killed, oh well. He would have lost an intriguing specimen to study and interact with. And if not, they'd find her eventually. After all, she couldn't hide forever. There was only so much Earth to hide on.

"Sir." It was one of the soldiers who were eternally standing on duty just outside the doors. The Master growled at the interruption.

"What is it?"

"We've found her."

Luna paced across the attic. Mr. Smith was slumbering away in the wall, turned off after he had almost shut down due to the mass hysteria and panic and destruction plaguing the Earth - even his vastly superior electronic brain couldn't compute it all. Sarah Jane was downstairs making lunch with help from Alan Jackson from across the street. Sitting against the wall and watching her pace were Luke, Luke's best friend Clyde, and his other best friend Maria, Alan's daughter.

"It's not like you can do anything about it," Clyde pointed out unhelpfully. "Sorry, but from everything we've heard…"

"He's right, Luna," Luke nodded. "We haven't got the resources to do anything except wait it out. Mum agrees."

"I know," Luna answered. Her calm, nonchalant tone contrasted sharply with her sharp strides. "I'm just not very good at waiting."

"Yeah, me neither," Clyde agreed. "What are we supposed to do till it's over? Who knows how long it'll take?"

"Fifty-one weeks," Luna answered with eerie precision. "But that's not what I'm waiting for."

"What are you waiting for then?" Maria asked. Luna shrugged.

"I'm waiting to be found."

No one was quite sure how to respond to that. Maria tried anyways. "What makes you think he'll find you?"

"There's only so many places on Earth to hide. I know he'll find me."

"We can protect you."

"Thank you, Clyde, but I don't need you to die. Stay out of his way."

"But… Sarah Jane promised she'd protect you."

"I quite trust Luna to take care of herself." Sarah Jane had returned with lunch - a can of beans and the last of the tea - they were barricaded in after the first Toclafane attack, hiding and trying to stay safe. They were essentially refugees in their own homes. Or perhaps prisoners.

"Mum, she's twelve."

"And has the mental maturity of someone my age. It comes with the alien genome. Stay out of it, Luke. I don't want you getting killed."

There was a sullen pause, and a faint air of guilty relief. Then the doorbell rang. Luna stopped pacing. She turned to face them.

"Clyde, don't do it."

Clyde looked nonplussed. "Don't do what?"

"What you're going to do." She turned suddenly to Luke. "Thank you for letting me steal part of your chemistry kit."

"… I didn't know it was gone."

"I'll return it later."

Sarah Jane understood. "You'll come back and visit?"

"A year from now last week," Luna nodded. "And years ago years from now. And maybe once or twice besides then."

"Try to stay safe?"

Luna smiled at that. "I follow in my father's footsteps, Sarah Jane."

Sarah Jane sighed. "I could have expected that. Goodbye."

"It's not goodbye. Not for either of us."

"Hold on…" Clyde looked between them. "You're saying it's him down there? Coming to get you?"

As if in reply, a call floated up to them. "Luna! Little Luna, don't hide. Come and say hello."

"Yes," Luna answered needlessly.

"No," Clyde argued. "We said we'd protect you from him. He's bloody well destroyed the world. He can't just waltz up here and…" Clyde paused for a moment, trying to find words, then took off down the stairs. Luna closed her eyes.

"I told him not to," she murmured. "I told him not to do it. I'm sorry." Luke looked at her for a second, then tore down the stairs after him, Maria on his heels. Sarah Jane started after them, but a gunshot made her pause, eyes wide.

"Luke…" she whispered.

"Clyde," Luna corrected without emotion. "We should go."

Downstairs Luke and Maria were crouched by their animate, trouble-loving friend. Except, he wasn't animate. He was still, lying on the ground, eyes staring at nothing, red pooling around him. Sarah Jane let out a muffled cry and joined her son and his friend, murmuring too quietly for anyone but them to hear.

"I'm sorry," Luna told them. There was no response. "I'm so sorry." I told him… echoed through her head, but it was pointless to voice. Sarah Jane understood.

"Hello again, child."

"Saxon," Luna nodded. The man was standing in the doorway, flanked by blank-eyed guards, watching the scene in front of him with disdain.

"My name," he reminded her, "is the Master."

"For now," Luna nodded. The Master regarded her with interest. Curious little thing. And rather cute, with her head poking out of a shirt that was about four times too big for her. It was deceptive. He approved.

"We're going now," he told her. She didn't argue. Instead she knelt down next to the old woman and children and dead boy – stupid boy, to think to threaten him – and whispered something to them. Then she stood up and turned back to him.

"I'm ready," she said. The Master placed a hand on her shoulder – not a comforting hand, but a hand with an iron grip – and gently moved her in front of him, so that she was surrounded on all sides, unable to run. She was interesting, she was a puzzle. But he didn't know what sort of puzzle, and until he was certain of how to act, he would treat her like any other prisoner. And he had had lots of practice with prisoners.

"Let's go," he ordered tersely. With the girl in front and the madman behind they moved away from one prison and towards another.

Luna's first sense of the Vailiant was 'big'. Her second was 'throne/burning/wrong/scared.' Everyone scared, scared of the skyship hanging above them, apart from the burning destruction of Earth. It was easy to see, so high above, easy to feel. She was overwhelmed, her calm exterior cracked, because the entire planet was a ball of golden destruction. In the physical world it was fire. In Time, she could see great swaths of life extinguished in one go as the half-living Toclafane swooped down. She stumbled, closing her eyes. It didn't help, still she could sense the fire and death. Her breathing sped up as it washed around her, clouding everything out. She couldn't think straight, it was wrong. Time itself was hurting here. Something was happening that wasn't supposed to be. Time was being altered by something, the Toclafane were wrong, they were- oh. Oh, Rassilon. She could see it; she could feel it. It hurt…

Suddenly, the Master was there, holding her up, ordering her to breath. It wasn't gentle, but it was with a similar sort of worry that her father had when something overwhelmed her. She had never felt anything of this magnitude though. She couldn't breath. Flashes of pain and death to come, seen over and over and over again, always dying, everyone hurting, even her-

"Dad!" He was there, she could feel him. Yes, he was there, hobbling, older than he should have been. Something must have happened; the Master… but that was okay, she could fix it. She knew how, they had discussed healing not long ago, and she could just pull it out of him. Ripping herself out of the Master's hands, she moved over to him, still looking up to him even in his fake age, his terrifying age. Her father was ageless, he couldn't look like that. It was wrong, like the burning of the planet...

"Luna," he said, the word ringing as though from a long ways away, a tunnel. His voice was old, but still his. "Luna, you've got to block it out. Block it, Lunette. Like I taught you, remember?"

Yes, she did, but she couldn't block it, it was too much, and she had to help him first because he was her father and she loved him more than anything else in the world and he was sick right now, he was wrong and she could help. So instead of focusing on blocking everything she reached out to him, physically and mentally along their bond, their underused bond that had formed years ago by a beautiful accident. She reached out and found that well of wrong, artificial age, and pulled at it. Pulled it away, tried to help him. Unable to think straight, shrieks of the ghosts-to-be filling her head, she attempted to pull the age out of the Doctor.

"No!" She didn't know who had shouted, but arms pulled her away from her father. "Breath, child. Breath!" She couldn't help herself, she had to follow the voices orders, there was something there, in the eyes above her, the clear eyes. They should be mad, she though to herself. But they weren't they were clear… Clear and calming and as she built up the walls in her head, blocking out the screams and the future and the drumbeat echoing through her mind she felt her eyes closing, closing, and then- nothing.

The Master leaned back as the girl in his arms fell asleep, breathing even, calmed. His hands ran themselves down his face, pressing over eyes, mouth, rough stubble. Then he turned to the Doctor and glared.

"What the hell was that?"

The other Time Lord was watching the girl with clouded eyes. "A panic attack, I think."

The Master opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. "She did something to you."

The Doctor met his yes with a mirthless smile. "She tried to heal me."

Incredulity. Then, "Why?"

The Doctor responded with a long, sad look, and the Master glared.

"Why did it start here? Why not at the woman's house?"

"I wouldn't leave her without protection from you. Why do you think it took you so long to find her?"

"What did you do?"

"Blocked off the signal of the world. You took her away from that protection."

A pause. "Idiot."

"You or me?" His tone was laced with amusement.

"Don't blame me for your daughter's stupidity," the Master snapped.

"Don't blame her for your lack of foresight," the Doctor fired back. "You knew it would happen."

"I didn't know she would damage herself."

"That's what you call it? She tried to fix it. She panicked and tried to heal it."

"This is my domain, Doctor. I'm in charge."

"You think she'll let you order her around like that?"

The Master glared. "She's my prize. She'll do what I tell her to."

The Doctor reared up, glaring at the other Time Lord, eyes fiery, voice soft. "My daughter is not a prize. She is not a toy. She is not an experiment. If you hurt her, I will find you, and I will kill you. Do you understand?"

"Shut up," the Master ordered just as harshly. "Don't you understand yet, you meddlesome old fool? I won." The Doctor flinched, backing down. "I'm in charge. Me. And I'll do whatever the hell I want. Understood?" He grinned suddenly, eyes lighting dangerously. Mad. "The whole family's together now, Doctor. We're going to have lots of fun."

Luna woke in an unfamiliar place. The room was square, clean. One set of walls gleamed with metal, the other were paneled wood. She was lying on a bed, a large bed sitting in the center of the room, the only decoration. It was unmade, just a large white mattress sitting on a simple dark wooden frame, headboard against the wall, door on one side, gleaming hull of the ship on the other. It felt empty.

So did she. The screaming cacophony in her head had disappeared, leaving blessed, empty silence in its wake. Memories resurfacing, she took a shuddering breath. The sheer amount of it all…

"One year," she whispered to the ceiling. "One year."

She sat up slowly, uncertain. And uncomfortable. Well, no, not uncomfortable. Just different. Something felt different. The shirt she was wearing - one of Luke's old ones, worn out and too small for him but much too large for her - was no longer four sizes too big. In fact, the rolled up sleeves needed to be unrolled, they cut off halfway down her forearms. The shorts similarly reached her knees, and with the rope belt they almost fit. How was it that… had the clothing shrunk?

No.

She had grown.

That thought sent her catapulting off the mattress and found her standing in front of the metallic wall. The reflection was blurred, distorted, but clear enough that she could see the obvious.

She was older.

Not much, three or four years, and still on the small side. But it was enough to be disconcerting. Her own face stared back at her - blonde hair, silver eyes. It was less round though, more angular. She was taller and had filled out a bit too, that much she could tell from the way the clothes almost fit. Her eyes, though, were exactly the same - still too old for the face they resided in.

"Fifteen or sixteen" she guessed aloud. Not her actual age – she and Dad had talked about that, how old she was physically, and mentally, in human versus Time Lord ageing. They had discussed how old she had been when Daddy had turned her human. She had thought it must have been very, very young, but the Doctor had explained how Time Lords typically aged more slowly than humans, and it was possible her infancy could have lasted years before she had been turned human. In fact, she could have been as old as twenty-something in basic earth years. And mental maturity was another kettle of fish. Like Sarah Jane had said: Luna easily had the mental maturity of someone her age. So she and her father had just shrugged and left it.

"Oh, that is a problem," she murmured. "What will Dad say?"

Actually, no. How was Dad doing, that was the problem. Was he okay? Was he safe? …Well, that was a stupid question; of course he wasn't. The Master had them all captured, they were at his mercy…

"No. We're not," she reminded her new reflection. "Harold won't harm us as long as he wants us for something. And right now, he wants us." She looked behind herself at the door. "Literally. He wants to see me now."

On cue, the door opened and a soldier stepped in. He saluted smartly, then spoke with the barest trace of hesitation. "The Prime Minister will see you now."

Luna nodded at the obviousness of his statement. "Yes, I know. Do you mind showing me to him?"

The soldier didn't show any change in demeanor at her response, and Luna found some respect for him. Most would have at least batted an eyelash or given her a funny look. Instead he led her out of the room and through the halls, expertly navigating and keeping out of the way. As they approached a pair of sliding doors he moved back, gesturing to her to go. She favored him with a slightly dreamy smile, noting how he would make it out of there mostly unscathed and find a lovely half-blood witch to settle down with.

"Thank you, Mr. Barry."

"You're welcome, miss."

The Master was pacing again. He always seemed to be pacing where the child was involved. He was running over what he had said to the Doctor, over and over and over again, like a mantra. She's my prize. She'll do what I tell her to. She's my prize. She'll do what I tell her to. She's my prize. She'll do what I tell her to. She's my prize.

It was necessary though, to have something to fill that space in his head. Because the drums had been lessened, somehow, by something. He had a feeling the answer was on the other side of the door.

She'll do what I tell her to.

Except she wouldn't, would she? He had spoken to the girl twice and he already knew that. Yana had known that, curse his tiny human mind. Whatever Luna was, it wasn't a conformist.

And he didn't want her to conform. To conform was to give in. That bright child should never have to give in. She was too important, too powerful, too much to just give in. Even to him. No, he didn't want her defeat. He wanted her to win. He wanted her to learn how to win, by any means necessary, because she was the Legacy of the Time Lords.

And he wanted to be the one to teach her.

It was strange, that urge to instruct another without lasting bodily harm. It should have disgusted him, but it didn't. He honestly wanted her to learn something from him. Part of it was simply his enjoyment of power, but part of it was a strange, resonant parallel. The Master and the Doctor, best of friends, greatest of foes, together teaching the girl everything they knew.

Still. He wouldn't instruct her in things like temporal physics, or sixth dimension mechanics. He had better things to teach, things he knew the Doctor couldn't, or wouldn't. Politics, blackmail, manipulation, power plays, command, hypnotism, how to turn people against each other, how to use limited resources to build the power base one might need - things along that vein. The skills the Doctor had but was too righteous to use openly. Oh, he would be so happy to see his adorable little girl being corrupted. And the child would be better off for it.

Yes, it was a win-win situation. And better yet - it would be fun.

I had a hell of a time with it, but the Doctor/Master conversation came out pretty well, I think.

Reviews are, as always, welcome.