Own Nothing

It's the moment of truth and the moment to lie
The moment to live and the moment to die
The moment to fight, the moment to fight, to fight, to fight, to fight

-30 Seconds to Mars

Chapter Three

"Which is why we must leave?" The Doctor exclaimed, following Hermione Granger outside of the tent. She was trying too hard to ignore him. The line of her mouth pressed tighter to keep herself from talking to him. But her nerves were frayed raw and she barely had enough concentration to put up extra protection spells.

Which was a little harder than usual since she had resolutely squared her jaw. Luckily she had a hand at nonverbal spells.

"Why do you want me to leave so badly? I can help you!" He said, gesticulating wildly.

That's when she lost her concentration. Raw sparks came from the end of her wand. She rounded on him, her eyes dark with anger and frustration. "How?"

"I could take you and Harry into my machine and keep you safe till the war tides over. We could go across the universe, go through history with spectacular hats and little cakes with ball bearings!" He took a step toward her, into her space, and looked directly into her eyes. "Is that what you want me to say? To offer? Because I could. I could take you and Harry away from this nightmare. What would you say to that?"

She pressed her lips into a thin line and stared at him, thinking very hard on what she was about to say. For some reason, this made the Doctor more wary than the mindless anger of Donna or Amy.

"You knew about this war, but you're not a wizard—or even from Earth for that matter. You know about this war, you know how it ends. You probably even know the prophecy." She swallowed down the stinging insults she wanted to hurl at him. "So you know that Harry…you know his position. You know why he's famous. So you can't possibly think that anything will change. What happens when you drop us off again? We continue where we left off, oh wait, we'll have to find them a million bloody time faster than before because we'll have even less time!"

"That's exactly it!" The Doctor took another step forward, "Time! We have all of the time in the world. All of time and space at my disposal and a clever girl like you is willing to turn that down?"

"Because I have my priorities in order!" Hermione snapped back, matching his step forward, "And I already know the dangers of time travel even if an almighty alien like yourself doesn't mind messing around with flexible events. But you of all people should at least understand why you have to leave!"

"And why's that?" He was glaring down at her, there was hardly an inch between the two.

"Because you have hardly a clue what you're doing! You landed in a forest accidentally, therefore you can't even pilot your own machine. And—And you'll leave! You'll leave because you can't stand living like this, because we may be evolved, but we are still human, because you'll get bored with your little pet project! And then you'll—then you'll leave when we need you the most." Her voice broke and she took a deep breath. "You'll leave and not even care what happens to us when you do."

"Hermione," the Doctor started raising a hand to tilt her chin up so that her down cast gaze would meet his, "I would never do that."

For a moment the anger in her gaze wavered and he caught something: the look of someone truly vulnerable. So full of trust, honesty, and love. Someone who was torn so easily from a belief in someone or something that the pain resonated. Then, it was gone. The hard resolution of anger was back. She pushed his hand away and took a step back.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you," She whispered, her voice harsh, "but a man coming clear out of nowhere—wanting to help Harry and me. It's a little too good to be true. Though you don't work for-for... I don't believe you. So… just leave."

She gave him as stern of a glare as she could, before averting her gaze and walking away from him.

The Doctor looked as though he wanted to pursue her, make her believe in him. Never before had someone told him so blatantly that they didn't trust in him. Didn't believe in him. It came so naturally with his past companions that it was shocking to find someone who didn't. He tore his gaze away from her back and made his way to the tent.

"Doctor, how come you never told me about magic?" Amy immediately asked the moment he walked into the tent, she was sitting in a chair nursing a cup of tea. Harry was in a chair near her, but mostly leaning against the table—turning a rock over and over between his fingers with a slightly irritated stare. His round glasses were at the very tip of his nose.

"I have told you about it before, just in different terms," the Doctor said, pushing his fringe back, "They say magic, I say psychic energy."

"Well then how come you haven't told me about witches an' Wizards?" She raised her brows, "I mean, we're still in England for God's sake! I didn't know there was somethin' so interesting so close to home." Her gaze landed on Harry with that little smile of hers and his cheeks reddened slightly, then coughed awkwardly.

"I didn't know they were here either," the Doctor shrugged, trying to bite back his pride at admitting that he didn't know something, "the closest I came to meeting them was when Martha and I met Carrionites."

Harry grimaced, "I've studied those, nasty buggers, but what are they doing in these parts?"

"You mean what were they doing in these parts." The Doctor corrected him, "We were a good ways back in time."

"Yeah, sure," Harry waved it off, "I mean what would they be doing in Britain? Textbook says they're only native to Russia and Canada. And they're usually called Hags."

The Doctor came close to Harry with a curious look, "Who in the world would want to write about Carrionites?"

"How would I know?" Harry leaned back, as if he could avoid the intensity in the man's gaze.

"You wouldn't…" The Doctor trailed off thoughtfully, his gaze flickering to the lightning shaped scar on Harry's forehead. "Though you would know…where we are in this war. So if you wouldn't mind telling me that… I'd be very grateful."

Harry blinked a few times in uncertainty, the Doctor was a tad close for comfort. Said man moved back a bit. Then the boy who lived told him in short what was going on. Amy and the Doctor were plenty attentive to what he said. Amy had completely forgotten her cup of tea as she stared at the young man. When he finished, no one said anything. He hadn't even told them the full story, and no one expected him to, but this part was particularly unexpected to the pair.

"And you're sure there isn't anything we could possibly do to help?" Amy asked, leaning toward Harry. Her brow creased in pity, worry, and concern. Very briefly, Harry saw the likes of his girlfriend Ginny and her mum Mrs. Weasley in her brown eyes and his gaze softened.

Before he could answer, Hermione stepped back into the tent with her eyelids lowered half way—exhaustion lining her face. "Harry, where's the pepper-up potion? I've got guard duty tonight." She gave him a dim smile before floating past him, not noticing Amy and the Doctor. Either that or she was simply very good at ignoring them.

"Hermione," Harry got up and stood in front of her, taking her shoulders in his hands, "you've got to sleep."

"I'm fine," She murmured, blinking a few times and giving him a pointed look, "now just tell me where the potion is."

They shared a look, then he sighed. "Fine, but…" He reached around her neck and the Doctor almost stood up to interrupt, then he saw the chain in both of Harry's hands. With a gentle pull, Harry had a locket hanging down from a long chain come out from under Hermione's collar. The change was almost noticeable.

Hermione rolled her shoulders back and a light hum came from her mouth.

The Doctor automatically reached into his pocket for his sonic screwdriver, then realized that it wasn't there.

"My screwdriver!" He exclaimed, patting his jacket and pockets, as if he had misplaced it and whirling around—like he could find it just about anywhere in the tent. "You took my screwdriver!"

Hermione blinked at him with a raised brow, as if just realizing that he and Amy were still there.

"So that's what this thing is." Harry said, pulling it from one of his front jean pockets, "It doesn't look like a screwdriver."

The Doctor quickly traipsed over and snatched his beloved sonic away, then scanned the locket wearily. He nearly jumped a foot in the air. "What….why do you humans have that?" He licked his lips nervously and glared at the locket as if it had stabbed him with a pencil. "That….that isn't supposed to be here, no it isn't. How in the world would you two manage to…."

"We didn't make it," Hermione answered immediately, "The person who started this war made six of them. Horcruxes. And we're hunting them down."

"Made them?" The Doctor asked incredulously, inching closer to Hermione, "Who could possibly want to make them? And be able to make them in the first place….it takes more than just psychic energy and murder to make a….a horcrux. It's…"

"We know," Harry cut him off, not wanting to be reminded, "It's dark magic."

"Not really, just to you because you lot have to murder to do it," the Doctor waved him off quickly, "Humans don't have enough psychic energy by themselves to split off and place part of their soul, which is why it's so unusual. No, Horcruxes are completely alien to you."

"You mean there's a race of sentient beings that murder and tear their soul apart?" Amy asked, disgust twisting her pretty face.

"No, they don't murder, that's the point I'm making here, Amy!" The Doctor snapped, once again, gesticulating wildly, "This race, they have enough psychic energy for four or five humans! They split their soul apart because it is so vast that it could not possibly stay inside of one vessel. It was an adaptational evolutionary manipulation. One of the side effects of it is a long life and the pieces of the soul age separately and die off one by one so that the being doesn't go insane with such age. Humans were never meant to get a hold of this physiological standing!"

His babbling began to go off into tangents of nonsense. Hermione and Harry tried speaking up, but were over ridden by his words. Hermione, though, was fascinated. She absorbed his words like a sponge and understood almost everything he said. The questions in her mind were bubbling up to the surface, but he never stayed quiet enough to listen.

Then Amy grabbed him by the shoulders and gave him a rough shaking, "Doctor, calm down. In English and slowly."

"But that was English," He began to protest, "And you can understand me just fine because of the TARDIS translation circuits—"

"You know what I meant!" Amy snapped, her brown eyes flashing dangerously.

"You shouldn't have this technology, how did you…" the Doctor started, then his gaze focused in on Hermione's wand, "Ohhh, that's how. Psychic energy manipulators. Of course you would be able to harness that sort of evolutionary technique, but you wouldn't have enough psychic energy on your own to make it."

Hermione stared at him for a moment, then nodded and turned to Harry, "That pepper-up potion please?"

"Right," Harry murmured, moving around one of the tent walls and into the kitchen area. "It's just in here."

"Amy," Hermione started, then she hesitated. The ginger had straightened up and squared her shoulders, as if she was ready to take a hurdle or a verbal lashing. It reminded her so much of Ron. She bit her lip and blinked a few times to keep the tears at bay. "You can stay in my bed for the night, if you two are staying. I'm sure that Harry will show the Doctor to his bed."

Her words were stiff and wavering, as if she wasn't entirely sure she wanted them there at all. But they weren't hostile and they seemed just as confused as they were about this situation. Not to mention how callous and rude she was to them earlier, even if it was easier to just push the blame off onto the horcrux around her neck.

"Actually, we were just planning on sleeping in the TARDIS." Amy said uneasily, "Thank you though."

Hermione's eyes widened a fraction, then she nodded, "Alright, well, goodbye then."

"Here's that potion, the label was a bit hard on the eyes, 'Mione." Harry mock scolded.

"Not my fault you can't read properly," She took the potion and swallowed a mouth full, then capped it. She grimaced. "Tastes terrible."

Harry smirked, then looked at the Doctor with a questioning look—then shook his head. Whatever he wanted to ask didn't matter. Not right now at least.

"Well, goodbye, Harry Potter," the Doctor said, putting his hands on the young man's shoulders, then looking at the witch, "Hermione Granger," She turned to look at him, "Good luck to the both of you."

Then he walked out of the tent, Amy on his heals as she waved to the pair. Then she grabbed the Doctor's arm, "What in the—I thought we were going to help them!"

"They obviously don't need our help, Amy," the Doctor shrugged as he pulled out his key to the TARDIS and pulled the door open, "Come along, Pond."

Amy glanced back at the tent. Hermione was already sitting outside the tent with her wand in hand, her shrewd eyes watching the time travelers leave.

With another awkward wave, Amy disappeared into the TARDIS. Then looked to the Doctor, "Where to?"

That's when the TARDIS gave a mighty shake and tossed both of them around the room. The cloister bell ringing along with a mauve alert. They hardly had any time to process anything.

Especially the image of Harry and Hermione running from a small group dressed in black robes on the monitor.