Walking Through Treacle

Fawkes returned to the study, unsure of himself. He wasn't sure what Albus would say to him, and so went for the safest option, and buried himself in some ashes.

"You want sackcloth with that?" Albus came over, and stroked his head, all the time making silly sympathetic noises that sounded more like a broody chicken that any sensible bird.

Fawkes shook his head, semi-deliberately covering Albus' beard with ash and phoenix droppings. It was his own stupid fault, not cleaning out the tray. He might be a gentle bird, but he wasn't above making a gentle point.

Albus sighed. "I can't clear it out if you're bathing your misery in it." If Fawkes had been human, the scowl on his face couldn't have been clearer.

With his hands Albus picked up the contents of the tray, bird included, and dumped them on newspaper. With his wand he muttered a few cleaning charms, and then soothed the ruffled dignity of the phoenix.

Fawkes didn't see the point in telling him. He already knew, if that wasn't humiliation enough. This was simply an exercise from "Bonding with your pet: How to help your phoenix."

It had been a disaster. Zeus had come to sit with him, and they'd sat with Severus as he slept, phoenix tears occasionally running into the partly open mouth. He looked so sweet when he snored. Fawkes had been embarrassed, but passed it off as achrymitis. Zeus had then asked him about himself, and Fawkes had found himself telling him how he was sick of getting tugs on his heartstrings all the time, and how he just wanted some time to himself. Zeus had asked how the phoenix charms worked, and then, just as Fawkes thought it was going really well, and had worked up the courage to ask him something, Zeus had announced his intention of leaving.

As he remembered, he buried his head in Albus' beard, ashamed to think of himself. He'd begged the Eagle Owl not to go, and Zeus had merely said that he was a free bird, coming and going as he wished. Fawkes had bit back a retort, and then wished he hadn't. He was only a stupid Post-Owl. If the Blond ones wanted a delivery, then Zeus had to go. If that wasn't enough, he'd found himself tugged away. Some kid was on the Fifth Tower, and needed company. Fawkes wasn't sure how she'd got there, but she cried into his neck, sobbing about how she didn't know what to do.

One of Severus's nestlings, with the green and silver robes, he was sure. He sat there, letting her cry into his neck, telling him how her father was a Voldemort supporter, but she didn't want to take the mark. Zeus' cry echoed as he wheeled into the sky, free as he pleased, and ready for the hunt. Fawkes ignored it, and focused on the girl, letting her cries echo with his, and their tears mingle as she hugged him.