Speak Slow
Written by Yours Truly
Disclaimer: I own all the characters you haven't heard of. Everything is belongs to Ms. Rowling. Mmkay?
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Chapter One – Reality Blurred
When your love let's you go
You only want love more
Even when love wasn't what you were looking for
Speak slow
Tell me, love
Where do we go?
"Speak Slow" – Tegan and Sara
Toby Fellows sat lifeless in the lounge chair on her back deck, the only movement coming out of the lit end of her cigarette. Its smoke rose and fell with the Pacific breeze, floating up to the Heavens in which Toby would never believe. Her tight lips opened just a fragment to welcome her cigarette and, with the twirling smoke, she exhaled one whispered word.
"Fuck."
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That's right. I said "fuck" while the chimney stack that is my cigarette slowly took my breath away. I can be poetic, too, don't you ever doubt that. So, aside from muttering obscenities under my breath, I had a lot of stuff going on. I wasn't completely lifeless. Well, maybe on the outside I was, but I had a load of shit running through my mind. I had just found out that my girlfriend of five years had been cheating on me with my male partner in the crime lab, and with that discovery, I also realized that I hate my job with a fiery, burning passion.
Oh, yeah... I also received a letter (by owl, WTF?) from some nutjob I read about in a book long ago. Albus fucking Dumbledore. Yeah, you're probably thinking something along the same lines that I was. You know, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Yeah. I thought he was dead, too, but – more than that – i thought he was just a random character in some popular book! This dude's not real! So, having read every book, I was slightly interested. But only slightly. I'm not a complete nerd.
Dear Miss Fellows,
I have been following your research for some time now and I believe Hogwarts would be a more than adequate place for you to continue your studies. Our Potions Master, Severus Snape, dabbles in Muggle medicine on the side. I believe the two of you would form an excellent team in whatever endeavors you may feel like exploring. If you are interested in this once in a lifetime opportunity, please await my arrival on your back deck at approximately six o'clock in the evening.
Sincerely,
Albus Dumbledore
And that was the letter. I called my best friend, Taylor, hoping that he was playing some sort of stupid trick. He wasn't. So I called my (now) ex-girlfriend and asked if she could explain herself. She was too busy at the time getting busy to talk to me. So... I wound up waiting on my back deck. Why? The reasoning is beyond me. I was waiting for a fictional character to whisk me off to a fictional location to partake in a fictional job. Why why WHY? I live in a real house with a real dog (Bret Michaels - he's an Irish Wolfhound who is totally coming with me) and a real, well-paying job. I live in Santa fucking Monica. Why would I want to leave?
Hell if I know.
I checked my watch for the fifth time that night. 5:58 PM. Two more minutes. Which gave me two minutes to try and convince myself to change my own mind. There were approximately 7.3 million reasons not to go... but I could focus on approximately none of them. In fact, if this were more than a very well-played prank, then this truly is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I mean, come on-
POP!
"Dude, what the fuck!" I leapt out of my chair and burnt myself on my nearly extinguished cigarette. There, standing right in front of me, looking completely different than he did in the movies, was Albus fucking Dumbledore. And, there, in his bright blue eyes, was that damn twinkle.
"Hello, Miss Fellows."
"Hello... Mr. Dumbledore. Um, how are you?"
"Fantastic. And yourself?"
"I'm, you know... on the floor."
"Are these your bags?" He pointed his wand at my pile of duffle bags and reduced them to fit in his pockets.
"Holy moly," I muttered, realization dawning on me. "You're real."
"Or you're high." Damn that twinkle. "Now, Miss Fellows, I'm sure you have many questions, but dinner begins in twenty-five minutes and I believe we're having chicken pot pie."
"Can't miss that pie." I pulled myself to my feet as Bret Michaels trotted out the back door. He sniffed at Dumbledore and then plopped down next to him. Stupid dog loves everybody.
"Are you ready?" he asked, looking almost impatient. Damn, he must really want that pie.
"Wait... I can't just up and leave!"
"Well, you were waiting for me, were you not?"
"Yeah, I was, but-"
"Then there are no buts, except for yours and mine. Are you ready, Miss Fellows?"
My shoulders slumped in defeat and I began rooting through the pockets of my cargo shorts, searching for my cigarettes. I felt as if I'd need them more than ever today.
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Ta-da. And that is chapter one. Deal with the lesbian. She's cool.
So, if ya like it, let me know.
If not, let me know.
Chapter two will be up if I get reviews.