Harry Potter has once again managed to land himself in trouble, this time trouble of an intergalactic kind.

Pairing: Harry Potter/The Doctor

Slash

I

I didn't mean to!

In hindsight, Harry should have expected something like this to happen. He'd never been on particularly good terms with Lady Luck, so it really shouldn't have been such a surprise when things turned sour. He supposes a part of him just hoped that the heavens would be smiling upon him for once in his life. Because having to face Voldemort for almost the entirety of his childhood was one thing, but being chased by ugly rhino-men in a drafty hospital gown on the moon of all places definitely took the cake, the candles on it, and the bratty little birthday boy.

Harry's bad luck all started when he was hit by a car on a rather unremarkable day under rather unremarkable circumstances.

Ever since Harry went through the Veil and ended up in a world very similar to his own (minus the whole Wizarding World and well, you know, the Wizarding part), he's had a fairly mediocre existence (the fact that he's only been in the alternate world for two days is a minor detail). Harry would also have been quite content to continue that mediocre existence if it weren't for the fact that some buggering idiot couldn't read signs and drove right into him.

And, before he knew it, he was carted off to one of those blasted muggle hospitals.

It turned out that only his leg broke, and besides various abrasions and some minor head trauma, Harry received no critical injuries. To him, that meant he had no reason to be in the hospital, but the doctor insisted that he stay longer so his head injury could be monitored a little longer.

Harry would have protested more - and none too politely tell the doctor to bugger off - but the doctor, like most, had an uncanny ability to guilt trip harder than a parent to their basement-dwelling man-child while simultaneously scaring their patients shitless.

It was safe to say Harry was by no means a happy bunny, especially considering his arse was hanging out of his hospital gown for all the world to see.

As the obnoxiously loud room-clock indicated another hour passed, Harry felt what little patience he had left deteriorate along with his sanity. Letting out a long sigh, Harry stared morosely at his right leg, which was covered in a thick, white cast. He could technically use magic to heal it, especially with the hollows at his disposal, but he really didn't want to draw unwanted attention to himself (it also didn't help he was as good at healing spells as a sozzled monkey trying to drive, and was more likely to mistakenly grow himself a third leg than heal his broken one).

The rain poured harder, obscuring the outside world and worsening his already gloomy mood.

Tapping his index finger on the bed, Harry scanned the room, looking for something to occupy himself with. Occasionally, he would glance at the telly, but then decide that he didn't want to watch whatever boring news story that would inevitably be playing. It was probably the usual murder, kidnapping, and political scandal, no doubt. As time stretched on, however, and the insufferable clock ticked away, the prospect of boring television became quite riveting.

Turning his attention to the telly in front of him once more, Harry sighed and grabbed the remote, only to drop it seconds later due to receiving an electrical shock from it.

The remote slid off the bed and clattered onto the ground.

'Oh, for Merlin's sake!' Harry exclaimed in frustration. Nothing was going his way today.

Sliding himself to the edge of the bed, Harry bent down, one hand gripping the bed and the other reaching out for the fallen remote. Just as his hand curled around the remote again, a tremor went throughout the hospital, causing Harry's hand to lose its grip on the bed.

His frustration with the world was reaching new heights.

'Merlin's saggy—' Harry started, only for the swear to be cut off by a choked groan as he made impact with the ground, jostling his injured leg.

Sucking in a breath, Harry glanced at his leg, sighing in relief when he realised that he hadn't broken it even more than it already was. Pushing himself up, Harry slowly and carefully pulled himself back up onto the bed so he was laying on his stomach. Rolling over so his eyes were facing upwards, Harry blinked at the hospital window.

I must have finally gone mad, Harry thought to himself as he blinked owlishly at the sight before him. And really, that was the only reasonable explanation for why he was looking at Earth through the hospital window.

Harry tilted his head back. That, or they added something extra to the morphine, Harry reflected as he looked at the bag of crystalline liquid with narrowed, suspicious eyes. He wouldn't be surprised if the doctor slipped something extra in. Hospitals only hired maniacal, two-faced sadists, after all. Merlin forbid they hire someone pleasant and nice.

Harry pinched himself hard and looked out the window again. Nope, Earth's still there, he confirmed in his head.

'Why does this always happen to me?' Harry said out loud, giving a heavy, kill-me-now sigh.

He pulled himself into an upright position.

Carefully, Harry put all his weight onto his good leg. Surprisingly, it was very easy, and he even managed to stand all the way up (he would later reflect that that should have tipped him off about something being very wrong). Hobbling his way to the window, he looked down at the rocky surface. 'Huh. Well then. Never thought I'd be on the moon. Now that I think of it, why haven't I tried that before? That would have been exciting. And maybe I'd even go to other planets—' he stopped his line of speaking as another tremor, this time much lighter, went through the hospital and nearly knocked him over.

Giant ships - distinctly alien in nature - flew down and parked themselves on the moon's surface. They acted a bit like imposing, oversized mushrooms. Suddenly, like ants, waves and waves of unidentifiable figures emerged from the space ships.

'That can't be a good sign,' Harry commented. He both really did and really didn't want to know why aliens had marooned an entire earth hospital onto the moon.

The itch to explore grew in Harry.

Thinking hard for a moment, he hastily exited the room in an awkward, half hobble half jumping movement and made his way through the hospital. It wasn't long, however, that Harry ran into one of the ugliest people he's seen, and that's saying something considering he's gone face to face with Voldemort.

They were in a black armour-like suit, and had a head akin to a rhinoceros. Except more wrinkly, and a little more squashed inwards. They also looked a bit constipated, now that he thought about it.

What looked to be a doctor approached behind the rhino-man, his face nervous.

'It's alright! They're just going to shine a light thing in your eye! That's it! No harm done!' he exclaimed, though it did nothing to calm the people around him as more rhino-men with helmets started to examine people. He himself looked a bit doubtful over what he just said.

'You know,' Harry started, having decided to forgo all self-preservation and put his foot in it because hey, why not? He never claimed he was completely sane, and he was immortal anyways - though dying never really was pleasant. 'I recommend you use some moisturiser. It would do wonders for your complexion.'

The rhino-man looked Harry in the eyes, causing him to laugh nervously. 'I don't mean to insult you or anything! I was just say—' Harry was abruptly cut off when a person bumped into him harshly, causing him to lose his balance and flail his arms. It was just his luck that he managed to hit the the rhino-man right in the face

There was a tense moment of silence. The surrounding people stared at Harry and the rhino-man in open-mouthed horror. Harry himself would have liked to display his own terror at the situation in the form of an ear-piercing screech, but alas, he found himself rather speechless in front of the rhino-man.

'Witness the crime,' the rhino-man said in a harsh, deep voice. 'Charge: Physical Assault. Guilty. Sentence: Execution.' The rhino-man reached for the weapon holstered to his side, a wicked looking thing that was meant for swift and unmerciful executions.

Not wanting to stick around to be on the wrong end of the weapon, Harry pushed past the rhino-man and, ignoring the pain in his injured leg, shakily ran up the stairwell. His staggered ascent echoed loudly.

It was at this point that Harry decided to forgo any effort to keep his magic a secret. The rhino-man had been the final straw to his already terrible day, and he would rather chance healing magic than stick around any longer.

Barging into one of the rooms and closing the door shut, Harry slid down to the floor and let out a relieved exhale. Tearing his cast off, he assessed his leg. It was a swollen mess of black and blue, and where his tibia and fibula should have been was instead floppy, limp flesh, though it was still gladly intact.

'Oh, you really should have that looked at,' a man's voice commented.

Snapping his head up, Harry looked at the two people in front of him.

The man immediately caught his attention. He was around his thirties and wore a blue suit and brown trench coat. He would be rather ordinary if it weren't for his alarmingly familiar face.

'. . .Barty Crouch Jr?' Harry asked in shock.

'I'm afraid I'm no "Barty", nor have I ever used that name before. I'm the Doctor,' replied the man, staring into the jewel-like eyes and feeling a sense of something. He couldn't identify the emotion, but if felt important.

'The...Doctor?' Harry asked slowly, squinting his eyes at him.

Now that Harry looked more closely at the man, he noticed the distinct lack of madness in his eyes. And he didn't carry himself in that crazed way Barty did, but rather with an old wariness of the world. Harry could recognise the man's demeanour quite clearly now, for it was like looking at a reflection of himself. The man was tired and sad and seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders.

'Yes, the Doctor,' he said simply, inspecting the not-quite-a-man but not-quite-a-teen before him. While leaning more towards the smallish side, there was a sort of indescribable power radiating off of the youth.

'Well then, Doc, what can you say about my leg?' Harry had a better chance at healing his leg with no complications if he knew what was actually wrong with it.

'Oh, no no no, I'm not that kind of Doctor,' the Doctor said hastily, shaking his head.

'Then what kind of Doctor are you?' Harry asked, a bit confused. He had assumed, since he was in a hospital, that the Doctor would be an actual doctor. The sheer insanity of muggle hospitals confounded him.

'You need to rest and not move at all,' the woman in the lab coat next to the Doctor said before he could answer. 'What did you do to make your leg like that? And why did you remove your cast? You're just going to make the injury worse.' She sounded both concerned and frustrated with him.

'Getting hit by cars, running for my life from ugly rhino-men, you know, the usual,' Harry said flippantly. 'And I took it off so I could see the damage for myself.'

'The usual?' she asked, the comment having caught her attention.

'Well, I've never been hit by a car before, nor have I been chased by trigger-happy extraterrestrials, but I've experienced things disturbingly similar,' Harry confessed, his mind wandering to the good ol' days of running from deranged psychopaths. 'Anyway, could you tell me what's wrong with my leg? I just need a general diagnosis.'

The woman gave him an incredulous look, no doubt questioning the state of his sanity, before finally staring at his deformed leg and acquiescing with his request. A string of medical terms started spewing out of her mouth, making his eyes glaze over.

'Uh, in English? Or Latin. I would understand Latin too.'

She frowned. 'You have internal bleeding, multiple shattered bones in your leg, most certainly some muscular tearing, and—'

'—Stop there! I have a good enough idea,' Harry cut her off, knowing that if she continued she would start spewing out complicated medical jargon again. 'Considering we're on the moon and all, being harassed by rhino-aliens—'

'Judoons,' the Doctor corrected.

Harry gave him a side glance. 'Judoons. Since we're being harassed by Judoons, do you think you can pretend you never saw what I'm about to do?'

'What is it you're about to do?' the Doctor asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes. He looked far too excited, in Harry's mind, and bordered slightly onto creepy. I always meet the crazy ones, he thought with light glumness.

'You'll see.' Harry closed his eyes and concentrated hard. A bead of sweat ran down the side of his head and dropped onto the floor. As the air took on a distinctly energetic quality, his leg started to take on a more fleshy colour, the swelling receded, and finally, after a few more seconds, the bones finally reformed to its original state.

There was just one problem.

The Doctor, on the other hand, jumped to his feet, his face alight with excitement. 'Beautiful! An alien!' he presumed. 'Who would have guessed? And with rapid regenerative abilities as well!

'Though, you appear to have an extra toe. Or did you always have an extra toe? Does your species have six toes? How many times can you regenerate?' the Doctor continued on with his rapid fire questions.

The woman, on the other hand, was quite surprised. 'How did you do that?' she exclaimed in wonderment.

'Dammit!' Harry exclaimed, looking at his extra toe. He completely ignored the Doctor's and the woman's questions. 'I knew something like this would happen. Nothing goes smoothly for me,' he muttered to himself.

Taking in another breath, concentrating very hard once more, he willed with all his might for the toe to go away.

It did not.

He stared at the extra toe like it was the bane of his existence. 'Come on, come on,' he repeated, trying again. In what can only be described as reluctance, the toe finally receded into nothing.

Looking up, immensely satisfied, he meets a pair of curious eyes from the Doctor.

'Well?' the Doctor asked.

'Well . . .?' Harry trailed off, confused.

'Is your regeneration ability something your entire species can do?'

'Ye-yeah,' Harry said. 'It's an ability of my race.' It would be safer if Harry just played along. Besides, wizards and witches could technically be considered an entirely different people from humans. No one really researched too deeply into the difference between Muggles and magical people besides the ability to do magic, so they could very well be an alien race. He wasn't really lying.

'And what is your race called? I've come across many aliens that look like humans before, myself included, but I can't quite place what you are.' The Doctor furrowed his brows.

Harry's face contorted in pain, his mind drifting to the Wizarding World; of all the people he left behind and would never see again. 'No, you wouldn't have met any others of my kind before.'

A look of understanding emerged from the Doctor's eyes, his former exuberance gone. 'Ah. I see,' he said quietly, choosing wisely not to continue on the direction the conversation was going.

An awkward silence descended upon the three in the room.

The woman in the lab coat cleared her throat. 'I think the hall should be clear by now,' she said.

The Doctor walked to the door and took a peak out of the small window. Seemingly satisfied, he opened the door and waved his hand in a 'follow me' gesture and left the room. The woman quickly complied to his nonverbal request.

Harry blinked at where they left, and then shrugged, standing up and wiggling his toes. Even though the sixth toe had only been there for a few moments, its absence was greatly felt.

Suddenly, the Doctor popped his head back in.

Harry stared at his expectant face and raised an eyebrow. 'Yes? Did you forget something?'

He nodded his head. 'Yes. You.'

'Huh?' Harry looked at him dumbly.

'Well, come along now!' he said.

'Come along?' Harry furrowed his brows. 'Come along for what?'

'Why for an adventure, of course!'