- Rating:
- R
- House:
- Astronomy Tower
- Genres:
- Romance Humor
- Era:
- Multiple Eras
- Spoilers:
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
- Stats:
-
Published: 03/26/2003Updated: 10/28/2003Words: 5,062Chapters: 10Hits: 3,334
Walking Through Treacle
Angel of the North
- Story Summary:
- The first ever Fawkes/Malfoy Owl Slash ever. Zeus, the black eagle owl is the object of a crush. Specifically, it's a certain phoenix. Birdslash.``The first in a series of vignettes.
Chapter 03
- Chapter Summary:
- Sometimes a Phoenix and a Potions Master don't mix.
- Posted:
- 04/03/2003
- Hits:
- 364
- Author's Note:
- Thanks to all who reviewed:
It’s all very well, Albus telling Fawkes to go and
find a nice lady phoenix. He neglects the fact that the only one in near
range is 500 burn-days old, has a face like a pickled onion, and doesn’t
like him. She also happens to be residing with one of Hagrid’s chums.
They sit together, bird and head-master, looking out over the grounds. He tells him the latest news – how Minerva really does not get along with Sirius when the pair are in Animagus form, and the latest on the Elf Liberation Front. Miss Granger fails to understand that they choose to be devoted to Albus – the Elves, Severus, Fawkes, and others. They want that guidance, that gentle authority. Severus joins them presently, muttering darkly about some half-cocked plan the Muggle Studies students are cocking up. “No sense of style,” he says, neglecting the fact that frock coats are so 1981 Village People.
He takes in the familiar composition. “Building a nest for thy broken heart in thy master's chest, Fawkes? Or do you want a potion to take that ache away?”
“Now Severus.” The three plot, independently of one another, unaware of the intentions of the other two. Severus leaves around midnight – Fawkes can never think of him as a professor capable of looking after himself, when he’s seen him stripped of his dignities, and clinging onto his tail after another death-defying rescue.
“Now, Fawkes, you won’t embarrass the poor boy.” Chuckling, he goes to his rooms. Bloody Omniscient owners.
He extracts his revenge beautifully. It helped that he was tugged by the heart-strings to the Potions lab, to help Harry Potter. He shouldn’t cry so easily, he wouldn’t want Zeus thinking he was some effete aesthete. But he couldn’t help it. Invisible of course, he perches on Severus’s shoulder to tweak his hair, preening him like a chick. Even with a scowl he was such a thing of beauty.
“For once, Fawkes, I wish you would keep your bloody tail-feathers out of my business. You can go to Hell!”
“Surely it’d be a second childhood for him, sir?” The Malfoy child speaks. Severus snorted.
“You think I’d poison the boy, do you? Or has Albus stepped up the patrols, to hourly instead of nightly.” Fawkes catches his game, and joins in, pecking him, re-arranging his hair like a recalcitrant nestling – it would look so lovely if he’d just let the bird tidy it.
Fading out, Fawkes returns to Albus shoulder, leaving the potter boy to his fate. He tugs on Fawkes heart-strings so often these days. Unlike Severus, it is seldom the battle external that warrants the bird’s attention.
It’s fine and dandy Albus talking about what faithful pets they make, but what Fawkes would really like is to get laid occasionally, and not in the egg sense. Entering the Owlery, he tells Hedwig the news, leaving her in quite a flap. Zeus isn’t there – he must be hunting. Fawkes sits on his perch, just for a minute.
They sit together, bird and head-master, looking out over the grounds. He tells him the latest news – how Minerva really does not get along with Sirius when the pair are in Animagus form, and the latest on the Elf Liberation Front. Miss Granger fails to understand that they choose to be devoted to Albus – the Elves, Severus, Fawkes, and others. They want that guidance, that gentle authority. Severus joins them presently, muttering darkly about some half-cocked plan the Muggle Studies students are cocking up. “No sense of style,” he says, neglecting the fact that frock coats are so 1981 Village People.
He takes in the familiar composition. “Building a nest for thy broken heart in thy master's chest, Fawkes? Or do you want a potion to take that ache away?”
“Now Severus.” The three plot, independently of one another, unaware of the intentions of the other two. Severus leaves around midnight – Fawkes can never think of him as a professor capable of looking after himself, when he’s seen him stripped of his dignities, and clinging onto his tail after another death-defying rescue.
“Now, Fawkes, you won’t embarrass the poor boy.” Chuckling, he goes to his rooms. Bloody Omniscient owners.
He extracts his revenge beautifully. It helped that he was tugged by the heart-strings to the Potions lab, to help Harry Potter. He shouldn’t cry so easily, he wouldn’t want Zeus thinking he was some effete aesthete. But he couldn’t help it. Invisible of course, he perches on Severus’s shoulder to tweak his hair, preening him like a chick. Even with a scowl he was such a thing of beauty.
“For once, Fawkes, I wish you would keep your bloody tail-feathers out of my business. You can go to Hell!”
“Surely it’d be a second childhood for him, sir?” The Malfoy child speaks. Severus snorted.
“You think I’d poison the boy, do you? Or has Albus stepped up the patrols, to hourly instead of nightly.” Fawkes catches his game, and joins in, pecking him, re-arranging his hair like a recalcitrant nestling – it would look so lovely if he’d just let the bird tidy it.
Fading out, Fawkes returns to Albus shoulder, leaving the potter boy to his fate. He tugs on Fawkes heart-strings so often these days. Unlike Severus, it is seldom the battle external that warrants the bird’s attention.
It’s fine and dandy Albus talking about what faithful pets they make, but what Fawkes would really like is to get laid occasionally, and not in the egg sense. Entering the Owlery, he tells Hedwig the news, leaving her in quite a flap. Zeus isn’t there – he must be hunting. Fawkes sits on his perch, just for a minute.