Hola! It is me, EmiStone. I know I haven't been updating that frequently, but I just got introduced to Doctor Who, and well. Enough said. I'll try to update as much as I can. This is a new HP/DW crossover, which is also my first of that category. It has been stuck as a plot bunny in my head for too long. So, without further ado:

A LIFE WORTH WAITING FOR begins.

~EmiStone doesn't own DW or HP. I don't even think I own the name EmiStone... Identity issues!

Hermione Granger had always been abnormally intelligent. This is how she had skipped three grades and was currently on track to getting her A-Levels at age 12. She was 10 now; so many people assumed she was as stupid as her peers. They couldn't be more wrong. Unfortunately, Hermione Granger was also abnormally lonely, having parents that worked so much that she hadn't actually seen them in a month and having the children in her village, Legworth, not be as confused as the adults as to her actual intelligence. Naturally, this only made them dislike her. Hermione had read a lot of books however, which were both her friends and her escape, which showed her why they did those horrible things. And she forgave them. If someone so much different from her showed up she'd be scared and lash out too. Naturally, she'd never gotten the chance to test this theory, but she was about to.

It was a normal autumn day when the Doctor met his match. And she came in the form of a ten year old girl. But he didn't know this at the time, all he knew was that after the Time War he set the TARDIS for earth and landed in a 10 year olds back yard in England. This is the story of what happened after.

Hermione looked up from her book in surprise. A strange sound she'd never heard before came from her backyard. She promptly set out to find out what it was, never having had a parent tell her anything about caution, and found a blue police call box in the middle of her yard. She frowned and rapped sharply on the door. A bald man with a large, hooked nose, and big ears stepped out, looking around tiredly for a person. But he was looking over Hermione's head.

"You look sad." Hermione noted without emotion, in her voice which she hated because it sounded like a little girl's. God forbid anyone tell her she was one. The man looked down at her in surprise, smiling just a tiny bit when he saw her, dressed in her play clothes and clutching a book about the same size she was to her chest. The smile didn't even touch the sadness in his eyes.

"Maybe I am sad, what then?" He said humorlessly, humoring her slightly.

"Well, the psychology books say that comfort food is most effective when dealing with emotional problems, such as a mother makes. But my mother never made me food, so I am left to the conclusion that I should go with preconceived notions of comfort food as noted in popular culture." She nodded her head sharply, seemingly decided and spun on her heel to the house, leaving the man standing there looking completely lost and somewhat amused.

"What are you?" He called, walking after her. He walked into her house to see her moving about the kitchen with a steady familiarity. "And what are you doing?"

"I believe you mean who am I and I am making you a good cuppa." She said sharply, as if daring him to disagree. He chuckled softly, his eyes softening somewhat.

"Then who are you, little missy?" She put the kettle down on the stove sharply and turned to glare at him with venom.

"My name is Hermione Jean Granger and I am little nothing. Who are you then, big ears?" Her hypothesis was proving correct, she was lashing out. But she had yet to feel any fright so it was possible that she was in fact responding to the stimulus of being called a little girl or the equivalent therefore of.

"Did you just do a scientific analysis of your reaction to being called little?" The man asked, bemused. The kettle started to whistle.

"Did I? Sometimes I say things aloud that I don't mean to. I think it comes from being alone all the time. Have you told me your name yet, or did I miss that?" She asked absent-mindedly, grabbing the kettle off the stove and making two cups of tea. She returned to the table and set one in front of the man, along with the ingredients to fix it to his qualifications.

"The Doctor." He said, putting milk into his tea.

"Is that your name?" Hermione asked, taking the first sip of hers.

"Yes."

"Alright then, Mr. Doctor. Why did you land in my backyard?" Hermione asked calmly, as if such a thing happened daily.

"Where is your backyard? And when, for that matter?" The Doctor asked, looking as if he was about to jump up to check.

"Legworth, England. October 30th, 1989, 9:30 AM. Margaret Thatcher is Prime Minister." Hermione replied quickly.

"Oh, Maggie. Lovely woman, her. Sharp as a tack." The Doctor reminisced softly, sitting back down. Before staring at Hermione intently. "You answered that awfully quickly. Who are you, really?"

"But, I already told you. Hermione Jean Granger. Born of Dr. Jane Marie Granger and Dr. John Hamish Granger on the 19th of September 1979."

"How old are you then?" The Doctor asked.

"I'm ten." Hermione replied with all of the typical know-it-all spunk that accompanied a stupid question.

"Are you human?"

"Of course I'm human! Aren't you?" Hermione asked, confused.

"Completely sure you're human? And no, I'm not." He said seriously.

"Are you mad? I've read about mad people. They think they are things like aliens and gods and witches and wizards." Hermione leaned forward in interest.

"I'm not mad. And I am most certainly not anything you've ever read about before." The Doctor said seriously, he looked down at the book Hermione had been carrying. "Even if you are reading about astrophysics."

"Well, what are you then?" Hermione asked, curious about something that couldn't be read.

"I just told you! I'm an alien." The Doctor replied, amused.

"I meant which kind. I'm not stupid. And I doubt you're a Martian. I've seen those." Hermione replied steadily. The Doctor looked at her in shock.

"You have?"

"Yes, of course. I hacked into UNIT. But I'm not very good yet, I could only get to the information on the base levels for about five minutes. That was basically just about Martians and other near-terrestrial alien life forms." The Doctor took out his sonic screwdriver and scanned her.

"Hey! I'm not sure, but I think that was rude!" Hermione piped up as soon as he did so.

"This isn't possible. You're human." The Doctor exclaimed in surprise.

"Yes. I did tell you that, didn't I?" Hermione frowned trying to remember.

"I made the UNIT security, you couldn't have gotten into it." The Doctor replied. "No human mind could hold so many variables at one time, and they went too fast for anyone to write them down."

"I have a photographic memory."

"It reconfigures every three seconds, too fast for human fingers."

"It repeats. I got all the variables down and copy-pasted."

"It's alive! It's part of the TARDIS! The only way anyone could have gotten in was if the TARDIS wanted you to. And we were a bit busy whenever this was that you hacked in."

"Maybe you were. But how do you know about this TARDIS character? The security did kick me out after five minutes in only the lower levels. It's more impressive than any other system on earth. At least better than all the major governments." Hermione conceded, trying to make him feel better, she was starting to think that she could make a friend.

"You're right. It is. And you know what else you're right about?" The Doctor asked, getting a small gleam in his sad old eyes.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"We need to go ask the TARDIS." The Doctor grabbed her hand and dragged her along behind him. He was headed straight for the police box. Hermione dragged her heels. "What now?"

"It is highly inappropriate to drag a ten year old girl into a small space. Especially considering your age." Hermione said firmly, sitting on the ground firmly and grabbing on to the small tree in her yard. The Doctor sighed.

"How about you go first then?" He suggested. Hermione considered it.

"It would still go against social convention and you could stand in the doorway and trap me in there." The Doctor threw up his hands in frustration. He was really not used to dealing with kids.

"Fine! You can go first and then decide if you will let me in, OK? She's bigger on the inside!" Hermione frowned, analyzing the situation. She abruptly got up and flounced to the TARDIS.

"Well, that seems fine then." The TARDIS door creaked open without the Doctor using the key, almost as if she was welcoming Hermione in. Hermione walked in without problem and gasped. A second later her head came back out of the door.

"You can come in. Social conventions will be fine." Which the Doctor was starting to understand was her equivalent of stating that it was bigger on the inside. He went inside to see all the TARDIS lights on and the TARDIS humming slightly, as if happy.

"I think she likes you."

"Well I like her too. She's very beautiful. Quite slim too." Hermione said seriously. The Doctor looked at her strangely as the TARDIS shook slightly as if in laughter.

"What? Why'd you say that?"

"My mother has informed me that when complementing a woman it is essential to add on that she is slim as well. I so very rarely receive advice from her that I figured it was good to use the chance when I get it."

"Why, do you not compliment women that often?" The Doctor asked.

"No. She also said that I need to be truthful." The TARDIS made another sound as if she was laughing.

"Well, Miss Hermione Jean Granger, since you seem to get on so well with my TARDIS, perhaps you'd like to come with me?" He could feel the oppressive knowledge of what he had just done weighing less when she was around, and he needed that. One look into her eyes and he could see that she needed it too. She shot up, looking unbelievably excited, before wilting slightly.

"Where? I make dinner every day for my parents, they'll notice if I don't."

"Where and when, do you mean? The TARDIS is a time machine and a spaceship. We could go to the end of the universe and still be in time for tea." The Doctor offered. Hermione brightened considerably.

"It would be my genuine pleasure to accompany you, Mr. Doctor."