Magic Never Dies (Harmione)

Chapter 7

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In the end, Hermione noticed that Fawkes seemed to be a comfort to Harry rather than just a constant reminder of all he had to live up to. Their natures suited each other; Harry instinctively treated Fawkes with deference and respect, as if he were another person rather than a magical creature. Fawkes seemed quite pleased with this arrangement and in return spent a certain amount of companionable time alone with Harry that Hermione mildly envied. Stupid to be jealous of a bird, but there it was. It was clearly Harry with which the phoenix wished to communicate and he made his wishes unequivocal.

"Bloody bird practically chased me out of his room yesterday," Ron agreed with her. "We were looking at Fred and George's new personal defense catalogue, they've thought of some really useful stuff, actually, and Fawkes just flew in and started squawking away. Wouldn't let up until he took it upstairs. I swear to Merlin Harry'll speak phoenix and burst into flames once a month by the time they're through up there."

After his initial depression Harry rebounded, as he always seemed to do, and threw himself into things with renewed determination. The drawing room had become a sort of central planning point and Hermione came across a great deal of scratch parchment filled with tried and discarded ideas about their direction. He was simultaneously attempting to reach a decision about how to find the other horcruxes, how to destroy the one they had and how best to finally confront Voldemort. He had marked the month of October for their journey to Godric's Hollow, telling them both he wanted to be there before All Hallows. Hermione noticed also that he had taken to marking any known or probable activity by the Death Eaters on the calendar as well, as if attempting to discern a pattern or reason amidst the sporadic destruction they wrought.

Hermione spent most of her birthday with her parents. She realized that day how very much she loved them, yet how utterly divorced she felt from their world now that they had moved from her childhood home. She was relieved about the seeming ease of their relocation; they seemed happy and should be safe enough, as safe as they could be with a Muggleborn witch for a daughter and Voldemort at large, anyway. She enjoyed being with them, enjoyed the respite of being their little girl for the afternoon but by the time she apparated back to Grimmauld Place she was more than ready to resume the challenges of life with Harry and Ron.

There was a pile of parcels and cards on the kitchen table; the parcels mostly Weasley in origin, the cards far wider flung. She recognized Viktor Krum's hand writing on one on top of the stack and Hagrid's on another.

"We missed you today," she heard, and turned to find Harry in the doorway. She couldn't help the smile that found its way to her lips; he'd been gone already when she left in the morning and she'd been looking forward to seeing him all day. He wore jeans and a soft old sweatshirt and stood in his sock feet with an empty mug in his hands, the picture of domestic tranquility. No missing limbs, no smoking spell burns, just Harry, the way she liked him best.

"Ruddy owls had us running up and downstairs every five minutes," he continued, nodding at the pile of cards. She could see the twin to her smile already twitching to break out on his face as well. "Then Ron burnt his fingers on the tea kettle trying to steam open the one from Viktor..."

"He didn't!" she said, outrage and humor wrestling each other in her voice.

Harry nodded, grinning. "Goes on and on about us thinking like Muggles, the silly prat."

"Did he succeed?"

"I took it away from him after that."

"Did you succeed?" she asked pointedly.