Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Not going into the huge explanation for how I came up with this, 'cause it's pretty darn epic. For now, all you've gotta know is that this is a Doctor Who / Harry Potter crossover set soon after Season Four and in the middle of OotP. Confused yet? Just stay tuned...
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If it weren't for my genetics, it would've been a pretty good week. Unfortunately for me, though, I was the niece of a woman most people considered the biggest psych case ever. This was normally not a huge deal, but given that said psych case had just managed to escape from what was believed to be the most secure place in our world, it was getting in the way. Trust me - people look at you strange if you're the third cousin twice removed of someone like that, and I was a lot closer on the genetic tree.
The point is, all the crap I was getting on account of that had gotten to me. Lesson Number One - when I'm preoccupied with stuff, my normally accident-prone nature goes to a whole new level. Everything is hazardous when I'm in one of my moods, even the stuff that no one trips on/manages to nearly get killed by. Under normal circumstances, the only things I tripped on with some regularity were umbrella stands and any objects being used as umbrella stands; under these, my normal magnetism seemed completely harmless. Yeah, it was starting to be one of those weeks where the world seems to hate you, and I was hoping that a Saturday off work would bring me back to normal. Too bad I was wrong...
I was walking home after having gone out for coffee alone - home, in this case, being a flat in the London suburbs - when I turned into a human speedbump. Again. Because my life obviously wasn't quite bad enough. And to make matters even worse, the person I'd managed to knock over was of the sort I usually cross the street to avoid. Let's just say that there are people in this world who really don't appreciate being knocked over by klutzy pink-haired girls like me, and I've learned how to tell who those people are.
But it gets even better! I'm not normally all that perceptive, but I'd managed to notice three things - the guy I thought I'd tripped was still on his feet, he was standing in front of a police box that I'd never seen before, and both the man and the police box seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. That's when things started to get interesting...
"I'm so sorry," I said, walking over to the man and hoping desperately that he wasn't the type who thinks odd-looking people have issues or something. "For nearly knocking you over, I mean." Great. I was now tripping over my words and coming across like a total idiot. My day was getting better by the second!
"No problem," the man replied, taking my hand and shaking it. I was guessing that he'd seen some real weirdoes before, 'cause he didn't look the least bit phased by my bubblegum-pink hair. "I'm the Doctor, and you are?"
For a brief second, I wondered how I should introduce myself. The easy option, what I would've done with basically anyone else, was to give my surname and send him a death glare if he looked like he was about to ask about it. Yeah, that'd be fine, I decided. No harm in going by your usual name with someone you've just met, right? "Tonks," I said, trying to focus my annoyance into a look that said something along the lines of don't-freaking-ask. "Hey, do you have any idea where that police box came from?"
Now I was on the receiving end of a don't-ask look, but I didn't just walk away and leave the guy alone. He apparently knew that I wasn't bugging off until I got some sort of answer, so he gave the most generic one possible. "It's a long story..." he said, his words coming just seconds too late. By the time I understood what'd just happened, I was inside the police box... which, because my luck is just that bad, was not actually anything remotely resembling a police box. As a matter of fact, whatever the hell it was, it was large than my flat, except it didn't look it from the outside. At least I was used to the concept of stuff being bigger inside than it looks; otherwise, I probably would've freaked out. As it was, this was pretty darn cool.
Cue me losing my balance at exactly the wrong time - when I'm maybe two feet from a panel of buttons. You can figure out exactly what happened - I went flying, I landed front-first on the buttons, and the door of the thing swung shut. I had no idea what was going on, but here's what I did know: I'd just done something that no one was supposed to do, I was seemingly trapped in some sort of building with a guy I'd just met, and there was a really weird lurching feeling. We're talking the same general feeling you'd get if you were in an elevator and it plummeted ten floors in just as many seconds, except without the feeling of going down. No such luck - though I've never had any love for elevators, that feeling would've been quite the improvement.
Finally, after probably two minutes, the feeling stopped and the police-box/building/whatever seemed to skid to a halt. "What the hell just happened?" I asked, hoping this was something totally normal that he did every day. "More importantly, where the hell are we?" Now, I don't usually swear a lot, but that was the only way to explain how scared/curious I was about the last two minutes. Curiousity... God, if I wasn't so curious, my life would be so much simpler!
You know the four worst words to hear when you're in my situation and want nothing more than to know where you are? "I have no idea..."