There was number 361 on the list: 361. Nymphadora Tonks (HP)/Cally (BSG 2004).
How could I resist? Toss a little bit of 'The Young Ones' in there for good measure, and you've got something extremely screwed up. Enjoy anyways!
Summary: Specialist Cally is stuck on an Earth even more unfamiliar than she thought, and there are strange people all around...
Subterreanean Homesick Blues
By Lola Ravenhill
It was the absolute most improbable of events, but they had actually managed to reach Earth, leaving the Cylons in, as she’d heard some Earthlings say, a galaxy far, far away. The strange thing was, the Earthlings never noticed some new people had arrived in their midst, leaving the Colonials wondering what to do next. Eventually they dispersed and blended in, spreading out all over the world and becoming bona fide Earth residents with none the wiser. The only problem with this is that it had nearly destroyed the Colonial culture, leaving them at an even greater loss than before.
Cally had settled down in a place called England, where everyone spoke like that scum Baltar and were even more aloof than he was. She got a job working in a garage with some forged papers, found a flat and settled in, leaving all traces of her Caprican past behind. Tyrol was somewhere nearby, they often went out for drinks and to reminisce about long ago games of Pyramid, but he was off doing something or the other she couldn’t remember at the moment. It was probably the—oh, what did they call this stuff again…right, rum (no more Ambrosia—no one had dared to recreate it yet. Probably wasn’t possible anyway, wasn’t the Sarv Kuhi plant only found on Aerilon?) that was making her forget.
A mate of hers at the garage had dragged her to this party in an old house that looked like it was about to crumble to the ground under the weight of all of the people that were in there. The lighting was poor, the booze was awful, the noise was far too loud, but it was better than staying at home wondering about what could have been. Cally sat slumped in the corner of an old plaid (and probably stained—she didn’t want to know) sofa and sipped at the rum concoction. She was still ready to kill her co-worker though. If one more frakking old guy started hitting on her she was going to do more than just kick them in the groin; her reflexes were still quite sharp.
A pink haired girl (well, not really a girl, she looked to be about the same age as her, and after everything she’d been through Cally couldn’t consider herself a little girl anymore) crashed down onto the other end of the couch with a loud giggle. A smidge of some strange looking purple drink sloshed out of her cup; she giggled again and slurped a little bit off the back of her hand. Cally raised her glass to the girl, and they both smiled and took a drink.
“Hey, lookie here!” A loud and far too crass voice called out, and Cally rolled her eyes. It was that frakking asshole again, not the one she’d kneed in the groin, but the one who nearly spilled his drink down her shirt. Either way, she wanted to avoid him.
Without much warning except for a sideways glance, the pink haired girl tossed her arm around Cally’s shoulder and quickly kissed her on the cheek. “I see you’ve met my girlfriend; isn’t she just wonderful?” the girl said with a grin. Cally, more than happy to go along with the plan to get rid of the jerk, shrugged and winked at the guy. Mercifully he quickly got the hint, and stumbled off to locations unknown.
“Thanks a million,” Cally sighed, rolling her head around on the back of the couch.
“No problem,” the girl said, sipping at the possibly noxious purple concoction again. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you end up here? You seem a bit out of place in this hovel.”
Cally laughed, the drink loosening her tongue a bit and making her brain a tad loopy. “I got a ride on a spaceship that crash landed on a mystical and legendary planet called Earth. It was a hell of a ride, I’ll say that.”
The girl nodded, but then shrugged. “Actually, I meant how you ended up at this shite party thrown by those four losers. I got hauled here because my boyfriend knew them back in the early 80’s. He’d heard they’d all kicked it in a bus accident-stroke-hijacking (as bloody insane as that sounds), but apparently they weren’t dead, and now they’re throwing a party in the same house they had back in their Uni days.”
Cally just gave her an incredulous look. She nodded in response. “Tell me about it. Bloody twisted.”
What appeared to be an aging hippie of all things, with long grey streaked brown hair and a pair of corduroys that hadn’t seemed to be washed since the early 80’s, wandered by, a large bowl in his hands. “Lentils, ladies?” he mumbled in a droning, monotone sort of voice.
“Um, uh, no—“
“Thank you, but I’m allergic—“
The man sighed and shuffled away, muttering, “No one wants my lentils. I might as well go kill myself again…”
Cally shook her head. “Weird man.”
“Tell me about it. And I’ve seen a lot of weirdos in my time.”
Cally gave her a smirking look and waggled her eyebrows. “I bet I can out weird you.”
The pink haired girl nodded in acceptance, then grinned. “Hi, I’m Nymphadora Tonks, (but use my first name and you’ll die a painful, painful death) bonafide magical witch, metamorphmagus, Auror, member of a secret society dedicated to fighting a certain Dark bastard, and currently shagging an incredibly handsome werewolf, if I do say so myself. You?”
Cally’s smirk got wider. “Cally, former specialist on the Battlestar Galactica, native of a planet far far away called Caprica, one of the few remaining survivors of an genocidal, apocalyptical attack by a bunch of frakking walking toasters called Cylons, who somehow ended up on this little planet called Earth living amidst people who have no idea aliens really are among them.”
Tonks nodded and raised her glass in salute. “You win. Good to meet you, Cally.”
“Likewise, Tonks.” She raised her own glass and they clinked together, a sparkling happy little sound.