My lessons actually took on a schedule, much like actual school. I had thought I was done with school when I earned my Masters degree. Apparently not .There was an insane amount to learn, not helped by the fact that I also wanted to research certain things on my own, get the lay of the land so to speak. I was insanely excited to start casting spells and doing magic, thoroughly entranced by all that was now possible.

Honestly, it had always been possible, but it had just never been within my personal reach without some help from the Doctor and his sonic screwdriver. Now I had a tool, more of a friend really, who could help do all of that. My wand was treated with the same care as the key to the TARDIS. I wore that always still, no matter what. I kept in mind how it would grow warm when the TARDIS was near in any way, mindful that if any sort of 'rescue' were possible the Doctor would manage it. And if it wasn't...magic. Not the same type of awe filled discovery I was used to, and I missed many things about my old life, but living in the now was the only way I could think of to cope.

Surprisingly the class I had some of the least trouble with was potions. Since Snape had no grudge against me, other than having to visit the school once a week to tutor my sorry ass, he wasn't as unpleasant with me as he was with Gryffindors. It might also help that I have a degree in chemistry and know my way around a lab.

One such class involved Snape working on his lesson plans at his desk while I was at a table in the classroom, mindlessly preparing the potion that had been assigned. It wasn't exactly the same as my previous job, but it was close enough to become monotonous after a while. One thing however deviated from our usual routine of 'make what's on the board and don't blow us up'. He spoke.

"Perhaps you have some experience with potions."

I froze, I'll admit. There was no movement whatsoever for several seconds. I flicked my eyes up to look at where I could spot the darkly clothed man through the door to his office, still scratching away at his parchment.

"...Pardon?"

I could practically hear the eyeroll.

"There is a certain level of muscle memory to your actions, I've observed over the past few lessons that you don't pay much attention to your actions and yet still turn out decent quality work. Therefore I can only conclude that you have done something of this sort before."

I was silent for several more seconds, but that's not unusual with me in his presence. I often get sidetracked thinking about what I should really think about him. Had I known nothing about him it would be easy to dismiss him as an angry man who was difficult to get along with. However, knowing the full truth makes it difficult. Yes, he's a dick, but he risks his life, faces his greatest fears, and in the end dies for children he doesn't even like.

I blinked at him, tilting my head to the side.

"Yes. I...I think I did…"

I left it there, trailing off and going back to my cauldron as if lost in thought. Snape didn't speak again, and I didn't expect him to.

Even with the occasional unusual thing that was bound to happen in a school for magic, my time there was mostly spent studying, in the same pattern. I went for a run every day in the room of requirement, just to keep the skill like I always did when the Doctor wasn't around. It was getting difficult to keep my distance from the teachers. I wanted to stay away from the plot, to keep from changing things, like the Doctor had always beat into my head. But I was never certain if things would be the same as in the novels. And I had probably already changed things in some sort of way because of the teachers that now visited Hogwarts when normally they would have been home, enjoying their vacation just as much as the students.

I was unable to keep the people around me distant and relatively uninterested in me. Simply because fate hates me. Or something like that. In the despicable heat of the summer my clothes were replaced by House Elves that thought they were being helpful. T-Shirts. The short sleeved kind. There's a reason I don't wear these. Traveling with the Doctor is dangerous, and it leaves its mark. But seeing as it's my skin, I'm used to seeing it. Therefore it didn't really occur to me that wearing a red short sleeved shirt would cause a stir at breakfast that morning in July. I was doing fairly well in my studies, and was pondering one of my theories that linked magic and physics when I sat down to eat with everyone else in the staff room. Meals in the staff room was a normal thing for whoever was in the castle during the summer, seeing as it was a little ridiculous to use the entire Great Hall for a handful of people.

I was still working on my second cup of coffee when I noticed the silence. Not the creepy you-can't-remember-me silence creatures, the lack of sound. I looked around the room for a second before I noticed eyes on me. I raised an eyebrow at a concerned looking Madame Pomfrey. She reached a tentative hand out, brushing against my wrist. Silvery scars scattered around the circumference, with several other marks scattering along in various other areas.

"Do...do you remember where you got these, dear?"

"...yes."

Being 'escorted' through a city center, prodded every now and then in precisely the same spot by some sort of electrified rod, searching the crowd desperately for hints of a leather jacket.

Waiting for someone to release the manacles, watching through tears for a man in a trench coat, regretting the way I had tugged and struggled for those first few hours, wrists bloody and mangled.

Desperate for a glimpse of a bow tie, small creatures with bright coloring attaching spiked tails to my skin, pumping poison through my veins.

A Scottish accent piercing through the sound of my own screams, as the clamps from the Cybermen on my arms and head released.

"Do you want to talk about it dear?"

I set down my empty cup of coffee, the small clank echoing in the near silence.

"I'd rather not."

I stood up, the sound of my chair scratching against the stone sounding obscenely loud, and I resisted the urge to wince.

"I'll see you at ten, Professor."

I nodded to McGonagall, and made my way out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind me. That wasn't going to end things. If anything they would be more curious. I should have made up a bullshit excuse, or pleaded amnesia once again. But they would have known I was lying in that case, and it would have cast suspicion upon the whole story.

As it was I had an entire Transfiguration lesson filled with awkward silences and the occasional reassurance that there was always someone there for me. And Runes and Herbology, as well as Astronomy. That class was one I excelled in. Studying what little I didn't know of the stars was something to keep me occupied while the Doctor was away. The only class where I hadn't been directly encouraged to talk had been Potions of course. The bat had just written down the instructions as usual, with a brief, 'Nothing personal leaves this room' that was more reassuring than I care to admit.

It took until the next week for me to finally work out the best solution for this. Snape was Dumbledore's man. If he reassured Dumbledore that there was nothing mysterious and dangerous about my past, then Dumbledore would convince everyone else that it was fine, and to lay off about it. So that's what lead to me talking. Halfway through the lesson I started speaking and Snapes quill stopped dead, before continuing at a slightly slower speed.

"I had a friend once. Traveler. Lost his home to war and disaster. He would travel with others often. I was the one who went with him when his more regular compatriots were busy with their lives. I think my life was boring enough that dropping everything to run somewhere dangerous with him was easy. We got into stupid amounts of trouble, but almost always he was able to talk us out of it, or invent some clever way to freedom. But it was dangerous. And I got hurt. I'm...not made of the same stuff as him. I'm not quite as...strong, would perhaps be the word. Come to think of it, that's probably why he was visiting less and less...I think. Anyway, I suppose that's over now. I'll never see him again."

There was silence for the rest of the class. While Snape was packing away the sample of my potion he paused as I was clearing the table.

"It is always possible that this friend of yours can be found."

I stopped for half a second before moving once again, shouldering my bag.

There was no further comment, and I swept out of the room, throwing one last,

"Have a good day, Professor." behind me on the way.

Okay, I'm taking a more realistic stance on the Doctors adventures. He meets dangerous people, and Companions get taken and threatened stupidly often. It's also like him to distance himself for their own good.

~TimeLordOfPie