The little bag grew in size, but the Doctor couldn't help but notice that it was still quite small. In fact, he looked at it so quizzically that Hermione couldn't help but to laugh at him - and his expression - just a little bit.

"Oh, Doctor!" she said, her eyes now sparkling with mirth – most of the earlier awkwardness having seemingly dissipated sometime between her earlier grief and the joy caused by the little bag's reappearance. "You of all people should realize that sometimes things can be bigger on the inside." With those intriguing words, he watched in amazement as she proceeded to mutter a spell to open the little bag, stick her arm into it almost up to the shoulder, fish around for a moment, and withdraw victoriously with a handful of wands. The smile slid off of her face, though, and was replaced with a look of immense pain, as she looked at the three wands in her hand and remembered who was no longer going to need them.

The first one, with the carved crisscross patterned handle, had belonged to George. She gave it a little swish and flick, felt just a slight bit of resistance as she muttered Wingardium Leviosa, and thenwatched as the Doctor's now empty coffee mug floated through the air. It then started spinning and swaying –in a kind of dance– before doing a backflip and coming back to rest on the table. "Thank you, George!" she whispered, grateful that she now had at least one usable wand – it wouldn't be perfect, but it would do in a pinch if she needed it. She then laid that wand down and picked up the next one. It had been Luna's – quirky little Luna, whom everyone had long underestimated, but who had proven her friendship time and time again. Hermione had found the wand lying next to her friend's limp hand and had scooped it up – not wanting anyone else to get it since she knew how much Luna had loved it. She needed to test it out now, so Hermione gave the delicate tulip-handled wand a little flick and couldn't help but to let out a choked little sound that was half-sob and half-giggle as a huge pot of moonflowers appeared in the middle of the table - especially since she had only been aiming to conjure a small bud vase with one flower. Therefore, this delicate little wand was obviously more powerful than it looked – just like its owner had been. Hermione then set that wand to the side momentarily, as well, but thought that it would probably be the one that she would use on a daily basis since it seemed to be quite compatible with her own magic.

She still had to try the last one, however, even though she was reluctant to do so. She clearly remembered the moment that Professor McGonagall had turned to her in the final seconds of her life and had handed it to her with a desperate look in her eyes right before she hit the ground and didn't move again. The minute Hermione picked it up by itself to test it, though, she felt its magic swirl around her and embrace her, much like her very first wand had done that day in Ollivanders. She then looked closely at the obviously older wand in her hand and wondered if it could possibly be the Professor's original one. She then felt that odd little half-happy, half-sad sound rise in her throat again as she realized that the shape of it strongly reminded her of the spindles of the staircase in her childhood home. However, there was no doubt this was the wand that she would use – especially after she gave it a just a little wave and with just a murmured housekeeping incantation, the surrounding galley suddenly sparkled with cleanliness – and several new tartan dishtowels appeared on the counter along with a rug in the same pattern on the floor. The Doctor, from the other side of the room, just looked at them in complete bewilderment for a moment. However, that confusion turned into understanding when Hermione let out a little giggle which turned into a sad sigh. "Oh, Professor McGonagall," she said softly. Before this little experiment, she had never realized that wands absorbed some of the personality of their owners. That would certainly explain why she had experienced so much difficulty with the one she had taken from Bellatrix! That caused her to smile faintly with the irony of it all – right before she burst into tears again.

The Doctor stood in the doorway where Hermione had left him standing after he had attempted to comfort her. He leaned against the doorframe as he watched her test each wand. He had a clear view of all of the events – astonishing as they were - and of all the emotions that flickered across her face during the process. He realized what an emotional rollercoaster that she was experiencing – especially after what had already transpired between the two of them. He thought that it was probably too much for her to deal with all at one time. Therefore, he was half expecting her inevitable breakdown when it finally occurred. Just as he was trying to determine whether she would allow him to comfort her, though, he was amazed to see her forcibly pull herself together and wipe her eyes on her sleeve. He then clearly heard her when she muttered, "Enough of that nonsense. There's work to do. I can grieve later!" Then she finally remembered that she was not alone and looked up sheepishly, right into his eyes. He gave her a proud smile and she nodded back with a small smile of her own.

Then he watched as her attention returned to the wands on the table. She picked up the one that had worked best for her. It was the one that made him think of an old fashioned table leg, and with just one wave and one word, Reparo, she proceeded to mend the broken wand. It was over in just a moment, and her sigh of relief was tangible. "The situation is no longer critical," she looked up and told him with a little upturn on her lips. "I now have one very compatible wand, two perfectly usable ones, and then a weaker back-up one in case of emergencies. Now that I have my little bag back, I will keep a second wand with me at all times – just in case. In fact, I am going to insist that you carry one in your "weird alien pocket," from now on, as well! Then I will leave the last one here in my room on the TARDIS. That way we will always be prepared. We were quite lucky yesterday, but I don't want to take that chance again. Both of our lives – as well as those of all of the people that we help - are just too important for that!"

The surge of pride that the Doctor felt at those words made him forget his cautious behavior towards her and he strode across the galley to hug her. He was so relieved when she allowed it without pulling away, that he gathered up the courage to mutter a sincere "I'm so sorry!" into her hair. He wasn't positive that she had heard him until she momentarily froze before she returned his hug with a tender one of her own. Just then he knew that their friendship, at the very least, was going to be alright.

Then without another word about that situation, Hermione pulled gently away, patted his cheek with affection (she knew that he had not meant to hurt her) and then turned back to her bag on the table. "I need to see what else is in there," she told him and he nodded in understanding. "There will probably be more tears," she warned him. He nodded again. "You don't have to stay – or I could take it back to my room," she offered. He shook his head in the negative at this one and reinforced the sentiment with another hug and the offer of more tea. She gratefully accepted both and while he was making the tea, she tentatively reached into the bag again and started to pull out the leftover items one by one.

Her sheer cry of joy caused him to spin around. He then grinned as widely as she did when he saw her pull a book from the bag and hug it to her chest. "My favorite!" she exclaimed in explanation and turned it around so that he could see the title: Hogwarts: A History. He then watched as several more books followed that one: Spellman's Syllabary, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, Secrets of the Darkest Art (She shuddered when she laid this one on the table), Tales of Beedle the Bard, and finally an odd looking, fur-covered book secured with a belt –The Monster Book of Monsters.

"Are those teeth?" The Doctor asked incredulously, pointing to the last book. Despite the tears that sprang to her eyes at the bittersweet memory of Hagrid picking out the book because he thought that it was "funny," Hermione was also able to smile at her companion's tone. She then proceeded to tell him the story behind each of the books and even graciously agreed to his eager request to borrow them. He had been so generous with sharing his own books with her…and she was pleased that he wanted to know more about her world – especially since she was going to have to go…

She purposely derailed that train of thought for the time being as she continued to dig through the bag and pulled out a few random odds and ends such as a few wizarding knuts, a broken quill, and a WANTED poster declaring her as Undesirable No. 2. She passed that last one over to the Doctor without even looking at it while she continued sorting.

"You were hunted?" the Doctor asked so quietly that Hermione would never had known how angry he was after reading it – if she had not looked up to see that same fury in his eyes that he had expressed before destroying the pseudo-Panda invaders on the previous day. However, she really didn't want to get into a discussion about that year on the run right now. Thanks to the Doctor and the equipment on the TARDIS, her physical scars had faded. However, the emotional ones were still there and they continued to haunt her through her nightmares. Therefore, she just nodded quickly and then was immediately distracted when she pulled a dress out of her bag.

She realized immediately that it was the dress that she had worn to Bill and Fleur's wedding and simultaneously both teared up and blushed when she noticed that a familiar scent of cologne still clung faintly to it. She had worn this dress the last time that she and Viktor had…well…been together. They had sneaked away from the reception for a little alone time and a chance to say good-bye and had just returned to it right before the Death Eater attack. Even though he only knew a small part of her plans, Viktor had helped her to find Harry and Ron, and then joined the fight in order to give them a chance to escape. She didn't even know that he had died that day until Bill told her when they had sought refuge at Shell Cottage after the ordeal at Malfoy Manor. Hermione had been recovering from her torture and its aftereffects and had not had the chance to mourn her first and only lover properly - even though she had also considered him to be one of her closest friends - ever since the events of the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

Hermione couldn't help but to smile gently through her tears as she thought about the fact that she had been the one who had pursued their physical relationship the next time that they had met after the tournament - especially since Viktor had always been a perfect gentleman around her. The resulting experience had been very warm and pleasant, however, and she would always remember it fondly. Unfortunately, the opportunity to be together had only occurred a couple of times after that since they had not been able to see each other very often due to the sheer distance involved and the wide-ranging effects of the war. She knew that she had not loved Viktor in a romantic sense, but Hermione was very glad now that she had seized the chance to be with him then. She then sighed quietly, refolded the dress, and set it to the side. It was only then that she realized that the Doctor had been watching her as she reminisced. She had nothing to be ashamed about, however, so she only gave a small nod and sad smile when he had quirked a questioning eyebrow at her.

After the Doctor delivered her tea, he had sat back in his chair and watched her closely. Her apparent forgiveness for the unintentional hurt of the previous evening was a vast relief to him, but he knew that he would still try to find a way to make it up to her. This was especially true after he had seen the Wanted poster. He knew that she had been captured and tortured, but the news that the young woman had been actively hunted concerned him more than he could say. Then she had pulled out that dress and his thoughts had gone in a completely different direction. Through his observations (the tears, the blush, and the very faint smell of cologne), he immediately guessed some of the story behind it and had to force himself to tamp down on the resulting surge of jealousy at the knowledge that she had once had a lover. After all, she was a beautiful, amazing, and desirable woman. Even if he had pushed her away on the previous evening, it didn't mean that every other man had been stupid enough to do so. Dispelling those negative thoughts from his mind, however, he then forced himself to focus back on her when he saw an odd look cross her face as she reached into the bag again and pulled out a portrait frame.

With wide eyes, Hermione held the empty portrait frame with the blank canvas in her hands. "Headmaster Black," she whispered and appeared to pause a moment before continuing. "I would like to talk to you, Phineas Black, sir," she said in a louder voice this time. When there was still no answer, she all but yelled in desperation, "Former Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black, please come to speak with me!" When there was still no answer, the tears overwhelmed her and she turned to the Doctor. "He's not answering," she exclaimed in despair. "Is it because we are in the Vortex or because he is not there anymore? Why would he not be there?"

After he was able to get her to calm down enough to explain the portrait's ability to move from frame to frame and deliver messages, his face grew even more serious than ever. "Hermione," he said softly. "We need to talk. There is something that I have to tell you."