Hey, so – ahh – I was wondering how many people would get terribly offended if I used some of the 11th Doctor's "adventures" in this – 'cause I really want Hermione to not have to blink and be very mad about it (and I don't know if the Tenth meets them or not), and I really want her to get into a very in-depth conversation with Van Gogh and leave the Doctor to brew in jealousy. So, think about it, and let me know. (Although if I feel like it I will eventually ignore you lot and do it anyway. *shrug* I am the author, after all.)

She was running her hands through her hair, biting her lip as her eyes darted around her apartment. It was time, wasn't it? Wasn't today her deadline? She hated that word, on second thought. It had the word 'dead' in it, making it sound so much nastier than it probably was. Although, in this sense, it really did fit.

She looked down at her converse. They'd been with her since she was fifteen. They'd practically been through Hell and back. She smoothed down her blue tank top, which was underneath the jean jacket that stopped at the end of her ribcage.

"He's lying – he's got to be," she murmured distractedly to herself as she rearranged the books on her shelf, glancing back at her room to make sure she'd picked everything up.

"What makes you think I am?" he asked, making her whirl around and blink at him, as she hadn't seen him come in or heard any sign of Apparation. Just as quickly as he'd come, she whipped out her wand and aimed it at his throat, her eyes narrowed, but he only smiled slightly and waited patiently for her answer.

"Tell me why I should trust you about any of this," she said, her brown eyes flashing, "Give me some sort of proof that you aren't some – some madman."

"Oh, but I am a madman," he smiled, "But if you do want proof, I'll give it."

He plucked her wand out of her hand, stuffing it in his back pocket and grabbing her wrist to tow her to her balcony, which rested in the opposite direction of her room. He opened the door and ushered her outside, the wind blowing her curls around as she looked around warily before he helped her across the way to her neighbor's roof, where she once again saw the Police Box.

He pulled out a key, unlocking the door and opening it for her with a flourish, obviously proud of whatever it was he was about to show her. She stepped inside warily and gaped just a little before hiding her shock – she wasn't some silly Muggle, she shouldn't be acting like this simply because it was much, much bigger on the inside.

"Well?" he asked as he shut the door.

She shrugged dully, "I've seen bigger." A lie.

He glared at her slightly for that before walking over to the most complicated thing she'd ever seen in her life, although he worked it like it was a simple toy. He then led her back to the door, instructing her to hold onto the frame before opening it up, grinning as she gasped at the stars right in front of her. It didn't seem real. It couldn't have been. No magic could've possibly….

"You're real," she whispered, looking up at him in amazement as he looked down at her in amusement.

Chess bit his lower lip, looking up once more before sighing and setting back down in his seat, looking glumly at his desk.

"Hey, Chess – where's Hermione? She called in sick?" some nameless person asked on his way to his own desk.

Chess sighed, glancing over at her empty desk before answering, "No. She's not coming back." He pouted, slumping lower in his seat as whoever it was walked off. He sighed again, smiling a little, "Hope you have fun wherever you are, Hermione." He started when his boss dropped paperwork on his desk, some of which was already for looking for a new partner. "'Cause I sure as bollocks won't."

…*shrug*

- Ava