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Who: Hermione Granger, Martha Jones
What: Tea and a chat. (And Hermione not realising that this is the Snape-Jones Cottage as opposed to just the Jones Cottage).
Where: Barrackham train station, then the Snape-Jones Cottage
When: day of Hermione's arrival.
Warnings: TBA, probably none.

Hermione had realised on the train that she had no idea what she was getting into- or who, really, she was meeting. It was enough to make her pause before messaging Martha- but what choice did she have, really? There were countless strangers here, and Martha's trustworthiness had been vouched for in the strongest terms. Admittedly, Snape had been the one to tell her that- but after everything which had been revealed to her about him, she had to take his word for it.

Anyway, for someone Snape seemed to hold in such high regard (even telling her to be polite to her- if she hadn't known better, Hermione would have wondered if there was some kind of romantic entanglement or something there, but by merit of who he was the thought wasn't even properly addressed) she seemed inordinately nice. Friendly, even. Cheerful, in fact.

It was probably a little stupid and incautious, but after the day she'd had, the prospect of tea with someone cheerful certainly wasn't unwelcome.

She stood in the train station feeling awkward, dressed in a dark trouser suit and trying to look as if she knew her way around perfectly well, though she took nervous looks at signs and the frown on her face never quite left. The train journey had made her realise how big the city really was, and how many different types of people it housed, not to mention the surprising normality of the city's daily life; there were people in uniforms, people going to work, people with shopping in their arms- and stranger things, too, but she knew enough not to stare too eagerly. And now she was adrift in the middle of it all, endeavouring to seem both harmless and unharmable.

She found herself hoping- rather nervously- that Dr Jones wouldn't be late.

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"No, no Luna, sadly. I'd like to meet her, actually." Martha sighed softly, and then she moved towards the cottage door. "Mr. Lovegood helped us. There was an instance where we needed dittany and he had some that he'd distilled himself." There was a lowness in her tone, because Martha didn't want to talk about the circumstances under which they'd needed the potion from the man, and how they were her fault. Well, maybe they were this place's fault; Martha still hadn't worked it out yet.

Martha put her hand over the front door for a moment, and she stepped inside the cottage with all it's wood and windows. It wasn't home yet, but it had a familiar home-like feel. "Come in."

She had to wonder what they'd needed Dittany for; it seemed rather ominous. Still, Martha hadn't asked who she'd been meeting, or anything even slightly intrusive, so she could hardly justify demanding to know what had happened.

The cottage was distinctly pleasant- Hermione could hardly deny that, even with all the distractions of the day making it difficult for her to exactly concentrate on architecture. "It's lovely," she said, not just meaning it as a platitude- she was rather envious, really, that Martha had at least managed to find somewhere to take root. A thought occurred to her. "Are you a practising doctor? I don't imagine this came free, after all, and they've got to have some system of healthcare here- I just didn't really think of it before."

"Thank you." Martha grinned, because she was quite proud of finding the cottage, and talking the Realtor into giving it to them for a good rate. "You know, you can stay here if you like, until you find a place of your own." Her husband was probably going to murder her for making the offer, but it felt like the right thing to do.

"Yeah, I'm a doctor. I'm practicing here at Hellsing. I've done a bit of research into healing methods, magically I mean. I'm going to do more so now that we're here though." At least that's what she wanted to do. "I'm a bit of a xenobiologist at home."

"Oh, no," Hermione said, quickly and rather anxiously. "I really couldn't. Really. I'll find somewhere, don't worry." For one thing, Martha probably lived with Snape (though she still found herself having trouble actually believing that theory, regardless of the things that pointed to it) and for another, she felt uncomfortable accepting the kindness of strangeness. Sebastian had offered her a place, anyway- and they knew each other.

Sort of.

Deflecting the conversation, she added; "Xenobiology- as in the biology of other planets? Or possible biology, I suppose, unless- well, you'd know better than I would. Isn't that rather a step from practising medicine?"

That aside, was she a Muggle? She probably wasn't from the same world as she was, Hermione reminded herself; after all, wizards didn't have doctors, but no completely Muggle doctor would be at all capable of researching the sort of magical healing methods she was familiar with. Perhaps she was a Squib, if she was from Hermione's world...

Martha opened her mouth to protest Hermione's decision, but she knew that this girl--no, this woman was an adult, and as such she was able to make her own decisions. Still, there was a part of Martha that longed to coddle her, to ply her with tea and to understand what things were like back at home now. And how she wished to know if things had been changed so that they could fix things when they returned to the Barge and then returned home.

"Alright." Her voice was neutral, but spoken with a smile. "At the very least you'll stay for dinner." That part was clearly not left up to negotiations, even though Martha was a miserable cook.

"Yes, actually. Before I went to the Barge I worked with a group called UNIT that handled aliens on Earth." A pause, and Martha offered a quick smile, the memories of things threatening to rush over her. "Well, actually, before that I traveled a bit. Then aboard the Barge I ran the infirmary and treated all sorts of types of people. Aliens, vampires, faeries, even angels and demons."

Smiling a bit helplessly, Martha shrugged. "I swear I'm not a nutter, and I do know how mad it sounds, but it's my area of expertise."

There was no point arguing with the idea of staying for dinner, that much was obvious; Hermione was well-enough versed in the ways of harmlessly bossing people around to know that Martha had made a statement rather than asked a question. She listened intently, a deep furrow between her brows and a serious look on her face- the sort that was so solemn it was almost comical, or at least certainly was when she was much younger.

It wasn't that it sounded unlikely. Everything here sounded unlikely. And that was what was really sinking in. She was in a world that didn't make sense, a world she didn't understand at all, in the cottage of a woman who has doctored aliens and was Professor Snape's- something. Her eyes darted to Martha's hands to assuage a slightly horrified curiosity- and yes. That was a ring on her wedding finger.

She had to be reading this wrong.

It only made everything more surreal, really.

"I don't think you're mad," she said earnestly. Not even if you have married him, though I do think you're extremely brave. "Honestly. After today- well, either it's all true, or I'm mad, and I'd prefer to think the former. I think. Um- sorry, could we sit down?"

The look was a bit comical, but as someone who was a bit of a brain, Martha understood such a deep and earnest look so she didn't hold it against the girl. Actually, there was very little Martha would hold against Hermione really. There were just too many memories and associations with someone who was just like her.

There would always be a part of her that loved those wizarding books.

The glance to the ring was noted, and Martha wasn't surprised really. Martha was exceptionally bad at hiding her marriage, even when it had been in her best interest to do so. Of course there was a part of her that wondered if it was in her best interested to do so now, but if Severus trusted Hermione, Martha would as well.

When Hermione asked if she could sit down, Martha nodded, and she reached out for the girl, one hand brushing her arm. "Of course. Are you alright?" A subtle, and gentle touch as Martha's fingers reached for her pulse, trying to find it.

Her pulse was likely slightly elevated, but she was good at clamping down on panic and appearing at least outwardly calm. She was pale, but she'd spent the entire day looking like she'd seem a ghost. She even managed a weak smile as she replied, "Yes, of course. Fine."

She sat, and fidgeted with her hair, a frown still on her face. "It must have been marvelous, seeing all that," she mused- an attempt to distract herself, but still genuine. "And this, too," she added as an afterthought, though she sounded less convinced. "When one gets past...everything."

The slightly elevated pulse worried Martha a bit, but she stepped back and headed over to turn on the stove and the old fashioned kettle there. Bloody hell what she would have given for the kettle that she'd picked up on her journeys with the Doctor and how it could instantly boil everything. Tea was medical at this point, and Martha was fairly certain that Hermione needed it.

"It was brilliant, really. Got to see the end of the universe, meet Shakespeare, see the moon landing twice. There are good bits about traveling with the Doctor." There was something in her tone that suggested that there were very bad bits as well, but that was neither here nor there.

"A few minutes on the tea, I'm sorry to say."

"No trouble at all," Hermione said, brushing the warning aside- something else had caught her interest.

"Shakespeare? As in- Macbeth, Hamlet, Twelfth Night...?" It was possible to hear the slightly hungry fascination in her voice, a smile coming to her face despite herself. "You time-travelled, then?" She didn't sound disbelieving; considering everything she'd gotten up to in third year, it would have been hypocritical, but wizards didn't have quite that sort of time-travelling ability. "That's amazing. How? I mean, the wizarding world has limited time travel, and in theory one could go back that far, but then there would be no real way to go forwards again. Oh, what was he like?"

"Yeah. Will." Martha grinned, because meeting Shakespeare had definitely been the best part of her time with the Doctor, despite the near-death that went along with it. Dropping onto the couch next to Hermione once more, she focused her attention on the girl with a smile.

"Yes, I traveled in time. There's the bloke called the Doctor. Well, he's not really a bloke. He's a Time Lord, and he's from a planet called Gallifrey. He's got a ship called a TARDIS, and that's what he took me in." Martha paused for a minute, and her voiced moved into the tone that she typically used when it came to storytelling.

"I saved his life once, and he took me on a trip to return the favor. London, 1599, and we went to the Globe to see Love's Labour Lost."

"How did you meet him, then?" she asked eagerly, already caught up in the story. It was easy to believe, after everything she'd been through today, and more attractive to think about than the fact that she was far away from home, from her job, her friends, everything familiar- the fact that she was back in a situation of having to worry about Bellatrix Lestrange- and everything else.

She was exceedingly glad to meet Martha, really; she seemed capable of taking everything in her stride, and with good humour, too, rather than stern warnings or bewildering amounts of explanations.

"I was a student then, a junior doctor. Just going through and living my life. I was on my way to work and this nice-looking bloke just stopped in front of me, took off his tie and said 'like so.' I was surprised and thought he was a nutter really. So, I go into work, and we're doing rounds, and then laying in the bed is the very same man who'd taken his tie off."

Martha paused for a second, and half-smiled. "I called him on it, and then he acted like he'd no idea what I was talking about, and it turned out that he hadn't. But while I was listening to his chest, I discovered something really odd.

"He had two heartbeats. I moved my stethoscope because I thought I was mental or something, and then I locked eyes with him, and he just winked."

"That's a bit cavalier," she said, a slight smile on her face, although her eyebrows were raised- she believed Martha, but the story was certainly a little bizarre. "So hold on, the man who took his tie off, was he-" She stopped, something clicking in her mind. "Oh. Yes. Time-travelling alien. You met him before he met you, or...something like that. Right?"

"Yep. We definitely met out of time. It's weird in that way. Probably why the two of us never could really get properly into step." Martha smiled, because the old pain didn't hurt any longer. Thank goodness for that, really.

"But he definitely had two heart beats, but I couldn't ask him about it because he'd think I was mental. Or worse, Dr. Stoker would have thought I was. The last thing I wanted to do was get sectioned. So I put it out of my mind and made plans to have lunch with my sister Tish." There was a little bit of a wistful smile at the mention of her sister; she hadn't seen her in a very long time and would likely not see her for a very long time more.

"It was raining on Royal Hope, but where she was, it was bone dry. A mate then told me to look at the sky and when I did, I saw that it was raining up. The suddenly it was black as night."

What Hermione lacked in social intuition she could certainly make up for in intellect, and she took very little time in deciding that Martha had something of a past with the man she'd traveled with. Her eyes flickered to the wedding ring again- it was a wedding ring, wasn't it, not just a ring that happened to be on her wedding finger?

Quite aside from her (rather nosy) musings on Martha's love life, she was genuinely interested in the story, her mind racing through possible explanations before she reminded herself that Martha wasn't from her world. Trying to deduce what had happened would be impossible for her.

A disquieting thought, for someone so used to knowing all the answers.

"Go on," she said, sounding curious but uncertain.

The uncertainty in Hermione's voice made her quickly offer a smile. "I swear I'm not mad, really. It all sounds like I should be sectioned some place or writing for the tell, but I'm not mental."

A pause, and then Martha slipped into the storyteller tone. "Well, when we looked out side, we saw that it wasn't noon and we definitely weren't in the middle of London anymore. Instead, when we looked out the window, we could see something very familiar indeed." Martha paused for a moment and then grinned, her voice dropping a bit low. "We could see the Earth from where we were, and the surface of the moon stretched out before us."

If Martha closed her eyes, it was something she would be able to picture with all of the vividness such a sight was due. Standing in Earth light wasn't something that most people had seen, and Martha had done it twice.

"Everyone was panicking. My mate freaked out, but I had figured out something very important. There was something keeping the air and heat in otherwise we already would have been dead. Then the Doctor showed up, dressed as I had seen him, and he told me that I was brilliant, and asked my name."

"It's not that, I promise," Hermione assured her quickly, settling down to listen again. It wasn't; it was simply a worrying feeling of being adrift in the unknown.

She had a lot of research to do, evidently. Even now, she was marking off things in her mind, keeping track for later.

"Was that sort of thing- normal for him?" she asked helplessly, finding herself sympathising somewhat- she knew what it was like to be the relatively normal sidekick, constantly dragged into bizarre situations (and admittedly, sometimes rather enjoying them, but that was another matter entirely).

Chuckling, Martha nodded. "It was his standard operating procedure really. In the time I traveled with him, we only ever ended up not in the middle of something twice, and that was because I insisted on it." The time after 1915, and the 1969, when he felt that he owed her. There probably would have been another one following the year, but she'd decided to step away before then.

"Well, the two of us stepped out onto the balcony, and as we were standing out there and looking, then all of a sudden ships landed. Real alien space ships just appearing out of no where. As we watched, the Doctor explained to me what they were."

She paused here, and gestured to her head, forming a box with her hands. "They were space rhinos, called the Judoon and they were intergalactic police thugs."

Blink. "Space rhinos." Frown. "Intergalactic policing space rhinos."

Her eyebrows quirked up; okay, she was still suspending her disbelief. "Doesn't sound boring, at least. It's against...intergalactic law to transport a hospital to the moon, then?"

Yes, Martha knew that frown, and it made her grin. She couldn't help it, because Hermione reminded her of one of the other times that she had told this story, to a listener who had a very similar reaction.

"Actually, it's against intergalactic law to hunt people on Earth. See, we're a class three planet, and we're not civilized enough to interact with. They think of us a bit like plankton, really. But they were hunting a plasmavore who had killed a princess."

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