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

"Oh, Doctor!" she said, and her eyes sparkled with mirth since most of the earlier awkwardness between them had 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," she added playfully.

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 then watched 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 would not 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. Hermione needed to test it for compatibility, though, so she gave the delicate tulip-handled wand a little flick. She could not help but to let out a little choked sound that was half-sob and half-giggle, though, as a huge pot of moonflowers appeared in the middle of the table - especially since she had only been trying to conjure a small bud vase with a single flower. Therefore, Hermione knew that this delicate little wand was obviously more powerful than it looked – just like its owner had been. Hermione sighed again as she also set that wand to the side momentarily. She thought that it would probably be the one that she would use on a daily basis, however, since it seemed to be quite compatible with her own magic. She would just have to get used to the strength of it first.

Hermione still had to try out the last wand. However, she was reluctant to do so. After all, 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 did not move again. Hermione had not felt anything unusual then, but the minute that she picked it off of the table with the sole purpose testing its compatibility, she felt its magic swirl around her and embrace her, much like her very first wand had done that day in Ollivanders.

Hermione then looked down in awe 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 on 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 her little compatibility 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 the evil Bellatrix! That thought 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 after he had attempted to comfort her. He leaned against the doorframe as he watched her test each wand. Therefore, 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 then what an emotional rollercoaster that she must be 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.

Consequently, he was already 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 clearly heard her when she muttered, "Enough of that nonsense. There's work to do. I can grieve later!" When she finally remembered that she was not alone, she looked up sheepishly, right into his eyes. He gave her a proud smile and she nodded back with a small smile of her own.

He watched her fondly 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 from Earth, 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 was not 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 preparing their drinks…despite his oft-mentioned dislike of domestics…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 couple wizarding knuts, a broken quill, and a WANTED poster that declared her as Undesirable No. 2. She passed that last one over to the Doctor without even looking at it while she continued to sort out her items.

"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 he had destroyed the pseudo-Panda invaders on the previous day. However, she really did not want to get into a discussion about that year on the run at the current time. 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. Consequently, she was in no hurry to relive them. Therefore, she just nodded quickly before she was immediately distracted when a dress was the next item that she pulled out of the bag.

She realized immediately that it was the dress that she had worn to Bill and Fleur's wedding and she 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 only just returned to it right before the Death Eater attack.

Even though he only known 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 did not even know that he had died that day – not until Bill told her when they had sought refuge at Shell Cottage after the ordeal at Malfoy Manor. However, 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 could not 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 sighed quietly at all of the bittersweet memories as she 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 held the dress and reminisced about her time with Viktor. Hermione had nothing to be ashamed about, however, so she only gave him a small nod and sad smile when he had quirked a questioning eyebrow at her. No other explanations were needed.

…

After the Doctor delivered Hermione's 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. The desire to do so was especially strong after he had seen the Wanted poster. He knew that the little witch had been captured and tortured, but the news that the woman had also 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 the article of clothing and had to force himself to tamp down on the resulting surge of jealousy at the knowledge that she had once had a lover. It should not have been a surprise. After all, she was a beautiful, amazing, and desirable woman. Even if he had pushed her away on the previous evening, it did not mean that every other man in her life had been stupid enough to do so. He fought to dispel those negative thoughts from his mind, however, when he saw an odd look cross her face as she pulled a portrait frame out of the bag.

With wide eyes, Hermione held the empty portrait frame with the blank canvas in her trembling hands. "Headmaster Black," she whispered and appeared to pause a moment before she continued. "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 the canvas remained blank, the tears finally 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 the Doctor 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 need to tell you."