A/N: Getting over a nasty cold delirium crackfic. You have been warned. Oh also.. Ron bashing, so, be warned there too. Sorry.

Beta Love: The R… the DRAGON and the Rose… see I told you I'm delirious!

A Tale of Two Phoenixes

My name is Hermione. Well, that was my name until this old goat named me Fawkes. My mate over there eating the raisins out of the bird seed bell is Severus. He's also Fawkes. The old man usually can't see us at the same time when we're together. The few times he has, he's blamed it on his spectacles and wandered off to wash them by hand. He tried washing them by magic, you see, and it just ended up with him seeing four of us.

That was pretty spectacular.

I digress. Once upon a time...ow! What was that for?

I glared at my mate, who was focusing his black eyes on a fig in Albus' fruit bowl. I'd believe he was innocent the day he stopped spontaneously setting himself on fire when he felt strongly about something.

Anyway. Severus and I have been around a long time. For those of you who were late to class, phoenixes have this often overlooked ability to spontaneously combust into a pile of ash and reappear as a very bedraggled-looking phoenix chick. We die, yes, but we have this unnerving ability to not stay that way. We also sit both inside and outside of time. So, while I'm sitting here swinging on this very comfy brass perch, I'm also eight hundred kilometers south of here watching Ronald Weasley set himself on fire thanks to one of Fred and George's pranks. Phoenixes are terribly nifty like that.

Back to the beginning. A hundred and some years ago, at least by the relatively narrow perception of time by humans, Ronald Weasley came into possession of something that no one as feckless, dim, and disaster-prone as he should ever gain access to: a time-turner. Well, he wasn't given it exactly. He sort of happened upon it while searching a home for illegal Dark artifacts following a mad chase after the owner, a fugitive Death Eater, sometime after the conclusion of the Second Wizarding War. He thought it was extremely pretty, and seeing that it was a pretty thing, immediately thought that his new fiancée would probably like it.

Fiancée, you ask? Well, that was me back then. Cut me some slack. I was only twenty some years old at the time. I've had a few decades to come to terms with my poorest choices in life. Well, I'll be fair and say they weren't so much poor as they were decidedly less than ideal. To put it rather mildly.

Two black eyes were staring holes into me.

Okay, okay! That was one of my very worst choices.

Anyway, my budding auror and amazing then-fiancé could never keep his idle hands still, so he decided on a whim to give the little hourglass a spin as he was thinking of me. Let this be a lesson to you folks. Never fiddle with unknown objects you find while chasing random Dark wizards across Europe. Also, don't take them with you instead of turning them in, like to the Head Auror in charge of examining said objects… but that is neither here nor there.

Ron arrived in the middle of my interview with Severus Snape, where I was in the process of becoming his very first apprentice. At least, one he didn't want to promptly murder in cold blood. I was flattered. Really. Everyone knew he wasn't really the heartless bastard they had thought he was before the war. He was just merely a bastard, but he was one bloody brilliant bastard. Even Harry had admitted to having misjudged him in quite a few areas. That was Harry's way of saying "Okay, I admit it, I really didn't know him at all, sorry." Snape's name had been cleared, his reputation mended, and his job scowling at dunderheaded children was given back to him. He adamantly refused to be Headmaster again, so he foisted that job off on Minerva, giving some excuse like "You deserved it more" and "I wouldn't have gotten it if it weren't for sodding Voldemort." I don't think Minerva bought it for a single minute, but she took the job anyway, happy, perhaps, that Severus was willing to teach DADA and simultaneously apprentice me so I could eventually take over as Potions Mistress.

It wasn't so much teaching me what to do, as I'd already gone to Durmstrang and studied under an older witch named Biljana Volkova. She'd been teaching Potions ever since Dumbledore himself was a little boy. She taught me so many things, I think I came back speaking the language of herbs. To be fair, I think I had learned a bit when she transfigured me into a moonflower for week to "learn how to listen" because she was tired of me answering things before she was done asking the question. Lesson number one? Don't talk over a Durmstrang. Lesson two? Durmstrang has no such rules against transfiguring your students or your apprentice as it pleases you. Lesson learned. I also managed to learn how to transform myself after a few months of being transformed into various plants and animals. I think when I turned myself into an annoyed Tyrannosaurus Rex and went chasing after the High Master's arrogant moss-eating son that she declared me fit to be considered a true Durmstrang. We never had any real problems after that.

She made a killing off selling castings of my feet, claws, and scaly hide for a few Wizarding Archaeologist friends of hers. It paid for every bit of her efforts in pounding her vast knowledge of Potions into my head until I could brew Wolfsbane potion blindfolded both silently and wandlessly. She thought me doing it as a T-Rex was a bit of overkill, but I just told her I had learned it from her, the witch who had managed to brew Felix Felicis while transformed into a wolf. Pot meet cauldron.

I had no regrets.

By the time I returned to Hogwarts to appeal to Severus Snape to allow me to become his apprentice in order to learn the fine art and ins and outs of teaching dunder—ahem—students at Hogwarts, it was a done deal. He already knew I was more than qualified. I smelled like a Potions Mistress. No joke. Greasy hair? Check. At least it wasn't flyaway and hideously bushy anymore. Pale complexion from forgetting that glorious sunlight actually exists? Check. Smelling like I had been rolling in the herb closet? Check and check. I swear to Merlin, it is like a thing you graduate with. The day you get your Mastery pin, they sniff your robes, examine your pallor, and check how greasy your hair appears to be. Oh, and washing your hair? Doesn't matter. My hair repels dirt, dust, grime, and non-Potions Masters.

Severus had asked me during my interview what things Mistress Biljana Volkova had turned me into and what my ultimate personal transformation had been. I knew then exactly who had taught him.

"Tyrannosaurus Rex," I had replied dryly.

A black eyebrow had lifted almost immediately into his hair.

"You?" I had asked.

The dark-eyed Potions Master had stared at me intently. "Terror bird," he had said after a moment.

"Well, at least we know we had the same Mistress," I had replied.

Snape sniffed. "Indeed."

Ronald literally dropped in on Severus and I when I was demonstrating my ability to brew a potion with a blindfold on. He figured, I suppose, that since we had had the very same Mistress, if I couldn't brew a basic potion both blindfolded and without my wand that I must be a mere charlatan. Both of us had put up our respective wands to brew, as neither of us needed them anymore. When the children returned for class, I would do it "with the standard method," but at least in each other's company it was completely unnecessary.

Suddenly, Ronald appeared from thin air and fell headfirst into my cauldron, knocking it into Severus' cauldron and it was only by some minor miracle that he didn't spontaneously combust due to his flawless demonstration of clumsiness alone. I, being rather blindfolded at the time, had a few moments of disorientation as I tried to yank it off. Severus, too, was suffering from the very same problem, as I heard him cursing profusely in what I now knew to be Russian. Thank you, Mistress Biljana Volkova.

As both Severus and I recovered, we realised we were covered in our cauldrons' combined contents and we had no idea what the side-effects of that alone might be. Second, Ronald Weasley was smack in the middle of it, adding his impulsive genetic code into the mix. Third, Ron was looking at me rather murderously as though I had committed some sort of heinous crime against Wizardkind that outranked even the Unforgiveables in severity.

"You!" he hissed.

"Ron?" I responded, completely caught off guard by his sudden and inauspicious mode of arrival. "What in the world are you doing here?" It was a fair question. I was at a job interview. Significant others do not just randomly show up during your job interview and decide to take a bath in your cauldrons.

"You've been fraternising with Snape!" he cried, pointing his wand at the both of us.

Surely the potion he was covered with had something to do with his apparent delirium, right?

"Ron, I'm at my job interview!" I attempted to explain.

"There is no way you'd interview with bloody Snape!"

This wasn't how I imagined things would go. I figured after going to the Durmstrang Institute to apprentice with Biljana Volkova, interviewing to become the new Hogwarts' Potion Mistress would have been a natural, logical move. It wasn't like I was planning to move to Norway or Sweden and continue to teach at Durmstrang. It seemed logical to me, anyway.

Everything sort of went pear-shaped after that, and I don't remember much save a great deal of yelling, wand-waving, ducking, missing, almost-missing, and series of violent hexes, counter-hexes, and complete chaos. Ron was quite good, I'll grant you. He had improved much since our school days thanks to his advanced Auror training. He had surprisingly taken to becoming an Auror with Harry, and many had remarked that he was quite good at it.

Severus and I, however, had learned from Biljana Volkova—Durmstrang's finest Potions Mistress, a witch who had, for quite a long time, lived quite well in a place where students and teachers were often embroiled in their own simmering paranoia. We had learned, very intimately, all shades of magic that wizardkind had ever discovered. Our shared mastery had been intimately linked to our Mistress, and we sang together magically as though we had been fighting side by side for decades. Suddenly, the reason why Severus' magic and method, when I was his student, had seemed somewhat foreign. I hadn't known, back then, the song of complete magic—magic that was both Dark and Light.

Severus casted, and I covered. I cast; he covered. Side by side comrades we reflected spell after spell that Ron was casting, and we didn't even stop to analyse what exactly it was that he was casting at us. The ongoing battle so far was a stalemate, partially due to the fact that neither I nor Severus were actually fighting to kill. Finally, we each got off a disarming spell at the same time, but they didn't hit Ron. Instead, they hit something he was wearing around his neck, and there was a large sonic boom just before the blackness of Oblivion wrapped us all in its embrace.

I awoke feeling as though my body was being pulled and twisted about in multiple directions, a bit like Molly Weasley's homemade taffy.

"To me, Granger," I heard in the strangely distorted air around us.

I saw an elegant, long-fingered hand reaching out towards me.

"We've been caught in a slipstream," Severus informed me. "Hold on tight, so we don't lose each other."

"Slipstream?" I murmured. "How is that even possible?" My hand clasped onto his, and he pulled me closer, I felt myself clinging to his robes in the swirling ether storm around us. Winds of colour and sound were blaring wildly around us. We were in the slipstream—the trails created by time. It shouldn't be possible for us to be there without a Time-Turner or something to anchor us to a fixed, specific point. And yet, here we were.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhhh!" went blasting past us in the slipstream. The screaming voice sounded distinctly familiar to my ears.

"Weasley," Severus growled, his voice filled with perpetual annoyance and exasperation. Compared to Biljana Volkova, though, he was a right ray of sunshine and flowers in springtime. I actually found that to be one of his more endearing qualities.

The slipstream was becoming unstable, and I clung to Severus as my only anchor to something I knew and trusted. He seemed to have the same idea. His arms wrapped around me securely and pulled me in closer. We were shaking together, our bodies being torn and flung about in the Ether.

Then, just as I felt as though I was about to be ripped apart, we both slammed into something bright and colourful that gave a startled squawk as we impacted.

Darkness again, like a blessed friend, swallowed us both back into Oblivion.

-o-o-o-o-o-

I woke up hungry. So, very, very hungry. Absolutely starving. I opened my mouth to protest, and something was promptly shoved into it. Reflexively, I chewed and swallowed. Mmmm… tasty!

I requested more in a strange peeping sort of noise that was coming from my throat.

Blessed Merlin, please, more of that wonderful ambrosia of the gods. What was that delicious stuff?

After a few cycles of this, my belly was finally full, and I became very, very drowsy. Surely whatever concerns that had bothered me earlier could wait, whatever they were? Satisfied, I closed my eyes and slept.

It took about a week of this before I was coherent enough to realise that I had company other than the creature who was feeding me such glorious food. I had a fluffy, disgruntled-looking nestmate.

"Severus?" I peeped.

"Who else?" he rasped in a low, disdainful peep. I didn't know peeps could manage to sound disdainful until that moment. Good to know.

"What, how—?" I began.

"One word," Severus sighed.

" Weasley," I said automatically, having pulled the word right out of his brain.

Suddenly "mum and dad" returned. Dark black, yet strangely expressive eyes met ours, and I felt every care I ever had drift away. I opened my mouth wide, flapping my arms—wings—excitedly. Mum gifted me with a half chewed mash of something blissfully fruity. Dad gave Severus the same treatment. We begged shamelessly, and the adult phoenixes, and I had no doubt that was what they were, stuffed our tiny bellies full. Mum then sat on us to keep us warm, setting her body on fire to ensure we were comfortable. Dad sang and warbled a joyous song from his perch. Severus and I snuggled together with the three other chicks in our nest. Our petty human concerns would wait until later.

-o-o-o-o-o-

It took about a year to fully fledge and become suitably obnoxious to our parents. Phoenix parents, however, proved to be strangely patient, and they were even more cunning. Teaching us to branch hop to the nearby fruit tree, the both encouraged us to fledge and to feed ourselves. We were pretty deplorable students for a while—dangling awkwardly as we flapped our growing wings and our growing tails frequently slapping each other in the face.

Once the immediate concerns of food, shelter, and fledging were out of the way, we all started to demonstrate more polished intelligence. Severus and I started to remember ourselves more clearly, and the other chicks in the nest had developed more distinct personalities.

There comes a time in every phoenix's life when you announce to the word your Name. This is the name known between you, your nestmates, and your parents for as long as the cycle continues. Seeing as a phoenix is extremely hard to kill, that was a very long time. Severus and I, being quite attached to the names we had known for so long, chose to keep them. Our sister, Phaedra, proclaimed herself from atop a very old cherry tree. Our brothers, Inigo and Ozias, proclaimed themselves from the highest branches of the flaming orange peach tree which had become our favourite place at make "fire-kissed"peaches. Take one peach. Set yourself on fire. Roast for a few seconds. Devour. It was a timeless and utterly delectable phoenix classic.

Lessons on how to be a proper phoenix began soon after our names were announced. Our parents, Cosima the Most Beautiful, and Absalom of the Winged Peace, ensured we were not ill prepared for our lives.

They would be our parents for as long as the cycle spun its great circle, and we would call each other family forever. Even so, we were not properly related as mortals would have described it. Phoenixes were born from the slipstreams. Our souls bound to the egg of the phoenix, and then we were born unto the world at some random point in time. Somehow, always in a nest of five. Somehow, we would always arrive together. No matter how we got there, the end result was the same. We were born in fire, and we went out in fire only to be reborn in it.

Time, as we came to learn, was our true home, and most of us lived there, sailing through the slipstreams in search of adventure. Most people couldn't see more than one phoenix at a time due to our very strange time-anchor. There could be five of us in once place, but those not born of Time's slipstream would only see one. One was all their narrow perception of reality could handle at once.

Once fully grown, it would be our job to become the custodians of Time, flying from place to place and insuring that the right cords were cut and others flourished to keep the slipstream strong. Without the slipstream, there would be no phoenixes. Without the phoenixes, there would be no other realities branching off Time.

It was a bit of a paradox.

Our lessons lasted for upwards of few thousand years, give or take a couple centuries for playing, chasing each other through the slipstreams, and being obnoxious young phoenixes, much as all children are prone to do. Then one day, our lessons were finally over, and it was our choice as for where to go on from there. Our great mother, Cosima, tucked us under her wings one last time, and we all slept together. When we awoke, she was gone, and so was Absalom, our most gracious father.

Perhaps, they were off raising the next generation of phoenix chicks. Perhaps, they were still raising us. Time was fickle like that. We were both adults and chicks simultaneously. We were both independent and waiting in a nest, somewhat less than patiently, for our next meal.

Many years passed, and our nestmates all scattered off together or alone, depending on what fancied them. Severus and I, however, stayed together. In many ways, we had been bound the moment we had touched in the slipstream. Our fates were, like it or not, entwined.

It was on a calm night that I realised that Severus was a truly fantastic warbler. He could sing like nobody's business, and we would chase each other through the slipstreams just as our parents did. Sometimes, I would ignore him, and he would puff up his feathers and set himself aglow, quite literally, and sing and sing and sing. I couldn't help but love that glorious warble, his radiantly purple feet, and wings of flames. He had the most attractive head crest I'd ever seen on a phoenix, and we had seen many in our travels in the slipstreams. It rose when he was interested, giving away his curiosity despite the characteristic scowl on his beak.

How could I not love that? He was a stunning male specimen of phoenix health, and when he had his burning days, he emerged from the ashes handsome and completely feathered out, while I came out like a tiny fluffball of a phoenix, barely old enough to even have a Name. Bastard.

He always knew how to placate my moods. He would bring me the most delectable fruits from all around the world. In the sexiest avian manner, he would hawk up some wonderful fruit mash and gently feed me his offering and then he would preen all of my feathers until I was a small puddle of softly flickering phoenix goo. He would lead me on merry chases through the streams and we would arrive at some secluded spring somewhere no human had ever seen. There we would cuddle together, and it seemed as though time had forgiven us both of our pasts and gifted us with a future together. We slept together, necks curled around each other's, content in each other.

It was a calm moment in time that Severus and I remembered something in our old lives— something that was quite far away from our current situation.

"Weasley," Severus groused with an annoyed chirp. His body was wreathed in vivid green flames that reflected his annoyance.

All I could do was sigh. I'd gotten over Ronald once being a significant part of my life somewhere in between being attacked by him and being resurrected as a newly-hatched phoenix chick. Time gives a phoenix perspective, after all. I'd had a few thousand years, as mortals viewed it, to get over it. That was, at least in my opinion, more than enough time to pine over what was and be done with it.

Severus, if anything, was quite relieved. His opinion of the boy had never been particularly great to begin with. His opinion of him following the experience of being steamrolled through time made even that low opinion sink still further to something far below abysmal.

Ronald Weasley was a loose end of the slipstream. Thinking about him made our beaks itch. It was the most important warning sign for a phoenix. Itchy beaks meant trouble. Usually, serious trouble.

Phoenix pairs were common, contrary to what mortals thought. Since no one could see more than one in a place at one time, they never knew any different. Male phoenixes specialised in tracking down time anomalies. Females were all about following their beaks to errors, anomalies and disturbances once they arrived. Both of them could snap at and sever timelines and events that didn't belong, but Hermione had specialised in healing. Severus had specialised in burning away aberrations in the streams—incongruities that had caused our combined births as phoenixes to come into being in the first place.

Father had always said that no phoenix was ever born that was not meant to be, and I had always believed him. Severus was somewhat dubious in the trust department, but even he admitted that his life with me was far more satisfying than what he'd left behind. After a few hundred years, Severus at least trusted me, and that was enough for me.

"I suppose we should go to the start of the mess," Severus muttered, tapping his beak thoughtfully against the water-polished stone of the hot springs.

"Tomorrow," I muttered, yawning beakily. "I refuse to ride the slipstreams without a good night's sleep and a belly full of fruit."

Severus chuckled warmly, warbling a soft song into my ear.

Mmm. Definitely tomorrow.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Severus and I landed, much to our embarrassment, like a pair of inept phoenix chicks that had never learned how to make a proper landing. We tumbled head over heels and crashed into a curtain, sliding down the thick fabric to the floor.

"That was a nimble and elegant effort, my mate," Severus warbled.

"Shut it," I groused, chirping indignantly. "Your foot is in my face, you know."

"Where in the bloody hell are we?" Severus said with his typical polished use of language.

"The first time alteration," I answered, moving my head out from under Severus' large, purple foot.

Severus fluffed his breast feathers, standing awkwardly. The top of his head was burning a cool blue colour. "I supposed I tracked us here, but I have no idea where this place is."

I perked. My beak was itching.

"Feel that?"

"Yes," he answered me sourly. "My beak itches."

Follow that itchy beak!

Phoenixes stick their beaks into everything. It's the one thing that never changes no matter how much grow up. When it comes to curiosity, nothing beats a phoenix. Cats don't really count, because curiosity supposedly kills them. To be fair, curiosity tries to kill a phoenix too, but we are far more wily regarding avoidance of such threats. Cats have nine lives. Phoenixes are forever.

We flew the moment we found a place to go, launching ourselves out an open window. Hogwarts. We had landed at Hogwarts… but when were we?

We were not so great at telling time as much as fixing time. I could tell you, for example, that there were approximately thirty anomalies in the area, but only one was dire. Dire meant major change that sent ripples through the entire stream. Sometimes the changes went in multiple directions, affecting both the past and the future at the same time. Whatever was happening at this moment was bad.

"Move, Mr Weasley," Snape's voice rumbled ominously.

"No!" Ron yelled. "I know what you're planning on doing, and I'm not going to let you! There has to be another way!"

"I have no idea what you are yammering on about, Mr Weasley," Snape growled, "but pointing a wand at a professor at this school could easily result in you finding yourself summarily expelled."

"Expelled?" Ron laughed. "Do you think I bloody care about being expelled when you're on your way to murder Professor Dumbledore? I don't care what Harry said. You're no hero. You're nothing but a coward and a murderer."

It was just then that the lifeless bodies of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore and Draco Lucius Malfoy came crashing down to the ground to land squarely at Ron's feet. Snape looked up in total horror, his face as white as a sheet. The all-too-familiar glittering, green skull and snake formed in the clouds above the Astronomy Tower as Bellatrix Lestrange's cruel, delighted cackles rang out in the chill and infinite blackness of night.

Snape, clutched his chest and his neck, his eyes suddenly bulging as he collapsed, every bit as lifeless as Dumbledore and the young Malfoy scion.

Ron's head snapped up as he heard Harry's voice ring out. "Murderess! You murdered Dumbledore, you bloody hag! You murdered D—!"

Soon after, the body of the Chosen One, Harry James Potter, lay atop those of his most cherished Headmaster and his sworn rival.

Ron looked up in shock. "NO! No-no-no-no-no! This isn't supposed to happen!"

He beat on his chest, grabbing something in his hand and vanished into the night.

It took me days to set right what Ronald had mucked up in trying to save Dumbledore from being killed by Snape, not realising, of course, that in preventing Snape from doing what Dumbledore wanted that everything would go downhill from there.

Phoenixes do not dabble in time as much as we set the threads back where they belong. If you were to imagine a feather being bound together as one unit, then imagine the vanes being split and mismatched, that is what a time-wound does. Phoenixes preen the vanes back in place, re-oil the shafts, and make sure everything looks like it was meant to be, or at least how is panned out. Severus worked hard to snap the strands that were growing in the wrong places. I tried to soothe the ripples back and connect them to where they truly belonged. Dumbledore was meant to die by the hand of Severus Snape. Harry had to leave the tower believing him a murderer. Draco Malfoy was fated to survive to inspire his mother to save Harry Potter's life.

By the time we were done, we'd attracted the attention of another Phoenix: Fawkes. We sang our laments together as we circled the spires of Hogwarts. By the time Fawkes left his master's side for the final time, my beak was itching again.

Both Severus and I flung ourselves up into the high clouds and slipped into the slipstream and away.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Hermione was asleep shortly after we landed before the next time wound. The last fix we had done had been major, and I, too, was feeling the effects. We had been fixing smaller anomalies for lifetimes as humans counted them, but the larger and more volatile ones had been new to us both. We had never tended them alone without our "parents" near. It had exhausted her to freeze time long enough to mend the threads, and I wished I could do more than just preen her feathers into order and fly out to forage and bring back food for her.

The pure gratefulness in her regard when I returned, however, made me forget nearly everything else. It was enough for me to know she was recovering well. When she did well, I did well. Hermione had carefully timed our arrival to be just before where my tracking had led us to Weasley's latest "dire" bugger-up. It was always about teamwork. I tracked the anomaly, and she timed the jump so we would arrive precisely where we needed to be.

We had a few days, as humans counted it, to rest and recoup our strength. and after a few good meals stolen out of a country farmer's orchard, we were ready to go. Hermione made sure to shed one feather from her tail to land on the farmer's porch to thank him for the meals. If he was wise enough to know what it was, he would hang it in the house, and as long as they took proper care of it, their house would never know fire to consume it.

We perched together in a few trees in London, listening to the gossip in certain key areas. Hermione found it greatly amusing when people would see us as something different as opposed to what we actually were. Once, someone called her a pigeon, and she looked as though she was about to go peck their eyes out. Once, someone called me a flamingo. Really? Could we please at least get our geography right? What self-respecting flamingo ever found itself in the heart of London?

"It's the day the Wizarding Marriage Law gets shot down," Hermione chirped, fluffing her chest feathers out and down.

"Horrid law," I muttered. No one liked the idea of being forced to marry a possible stranger to "boost the population for the betterment of the Wizarding world." Despite this, I knew the vote had been extremely close.

I scratched my beak a few times on the branch, annoyed.

"Why would we be here?" Hermione wondered aloud. "There is nothing here I can think of that Ron might choose to mess with. The last thing he'd ever want is to be forced to marry someone and risk ending up with the likes of Pansy Parkinson. Or worse."

I snorted.

"Harry used to think Ron had decided to propose to me when he found out the Marriage Law was coming up for a vote," Hermione said with a tilt of her head. "He thought Ron had done it just to avoid the possibility of having to marry someone other than me."

I frowned as only a phoenix could. "He'd rather ask you to marry him than risk being single and have to marry someone else?"

Hermione sighed. "That's what Harry thought."

"Did you believe him?" I asked.

Hermione's head crest flattened in thought. "Not at the time," she quietly admitted.

I preened her head to ease her thoughts, and it worked as usual. It was good to be a phoenix with multiple talents.

"There he is," Hermione chirped. Her head crest flattened completely in confusion. "Why is he coming out of the Apprenticeship Registrar's office?"

I squinted and peered down at the small, almost shabby-looking door of the Mastery Offices. It always looked like a battered old building, even to the Muggles. Masters would come from all around to register that they were open to taking an apprentice, and prospective apprentices would then apply for the open positions. It was slightly different at Hogwarts, and the apprenticeships were not about learning skills of your chosen field as much as it was about learning the specifics about teaching at Hogwarts. All professors were expected to be experts in their field before teaching— not that it had helped with regard to Gilderoy Lockhart in the slightest.

"What the hell is he doing?!" Hermione cried out in alarm.

There, down below, Ron looked like he was heroically catching some unfortunate older woman who was having a really bad reaction to her morning cuppa. Curious people were gathering all around, and Ron was fanning her enthusiastically with a discarded newspaper and stuffing his overcoat under the woman's head.

"She just suddenly collapsed!" Ron said to the arriving Aurors.

"That's Amelia Bones!" someone in the crowd whispered. "What if she doesn't get to the vote?"

"Quiet, woman! Isn't her life more important than some stupid vote?"

"Stupid? I'll have you know—"

"We should mend the threads down there now," I recommended. My beak was getting itchy again.

"We can't go down there just yet," Hermione said with concern.

"Oh?" I replied. "Why?"

"That's me down there," Hermione explained. "Our Potions Mistress is walking me out of the building on our way to get a coffee down around the block from here."

Even though we were quite capable of remaining unseen, and the both of us were no longer anchored to our "old" selves, being too close to our old selves could cause odd ripples that were better off avoided.

Suddenly, my beak stopped itching.

Hermione seemed to have the same realisation. "What?"

I was sure my eyes were like saucers. "The itch is gone."

There was only one reason why the itch of something we had to fix would disappear, well, two. One would be that the situation righted itself due to someone else somehow making things right. Two would be divine intervention such as Karma or Fate stepping in personally to claim the rights to that particular time stream.

One was preferable to Two. Two meant someone or something very, very powerful was watching you and not in a good or friendly way.

Our dread was confirmed, when some time later, as Amelia Bones was receiving treatment at St Mungo's and witnesses were being interviewed, the Marriage Law was officially passed after hours of stalemate. Without Amelia's calming voice of reason present and accounted for, two Wizengamot members decided at the last minute to change their votes in favor of the law, and the Wizarding world was thrown into utter chaos.

Unable to sense any more time wounds, we decided to bed down and observe for clues as to what had stopped us from fixing Ron's reckless tampering with the events in this particular place in time. Matches were being made via compatibility spells layered with numerous other spells, such as those regarding fidelity and fertility. Announcements were soon being sent out by owl to all eligible witches and wizards who were not previously engaged to be wed. Those such as couples who were already married, people who were in committed engagements, and people who were deemed "too elderly" were all exempt from the Marriage Law.

Harry Potter was matched with Hannah Abbot, which had Ginny in floods of tears. Neville Longbottom found himself paired with Luna Lovegood, which, thankfully, they had actually been considering for some time before the law's passage. Fred and George ended up with the Patil twins. Percy ended up with a former Ravenclaw, Sue Li. Charlie ended up coming out of the closet with his long time partner, Raoul, at the dragon reserve in Romania, making him immune to the Marriage Law. Ginny was paired off with Dean Thomas. Hermione was paired with none other than Severus Snape, much to the consternation of many. Both phoenixes found that pairing somewhat ironic and amusing as they preened each other, quite pleased upon hearing their happy news.

"We're married!" Hermione warbled.

"Hn," I replied in approval. Really there wasn't any more to say to that.

Ronald, however, had bagged the most terrifying match the allegedly "foolproof" system had managed to chuck out: one Dolores Jane Umbridge. After hearing just who he had been matched with and unsuccessfully trying to pry the magical wedding ring off his finger, the fidelity and fertility charms kicked in and activated the ever-fertile Weasley genetics. After that, Ron's face hadn't been seen in public for many weeks. No one did anything more than make wide eyes and disgusted faces whenever Ron's name was mentioned, all refusing to even contemplate what was currently going on behind closed doors. A sensible precaution, Severus and Hermione had concluded, as the mere thought of carnal activities occurring between Ron and the former Miss Umbridge was capable of mentally scarring the average witch or wizard for life.

Molly refused to lift her knitting needles or so much as glance at the Weasley family clock for months afterwards. No one could really blame her for that.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Some months later, our beaks began to itch again, and when Severus and I saw Madam Um—Weasley walking down the street to the Booties and Buggies Shoppe, we realised the conditions of the Marriage Law contract had at last been fulfilled, freeing Ronald once again to rain havoc down upon whatever timestream he had chosen to inflict himself on this time.

Severus had taken the position that our human-selves being married was a good sign. We had checked up on them, tentatively, and it seemed they were having no trouble at all with regard to compatibility. Severus sang a glorious, awe-inspiring song from high on the ramparts of Hogwarts, and everyone called him Fawkes, thinking he had returned to bless Hogwarts with his presence and song once again.

I warbled a few tunes from the garden fence overlooking Hagrid's pumpkin patch, and he called me Fawkes too. I suppose we are all Fawkes. No one really tell us apart, and that's probably a good thing.

We took off into the slipstream as soon as we couldn't take the itchy beaks anymore. Severus took the lead in tracking, as usual, and as soon as he locked into a time, I adjusted it so we would arrive a little bit early. We were getting quite good at that.

Severus knew exactly where and when we were the moment that we landed. He stared up at the sky with a sort of tangible melancholy.

"Where are we, Severus?" I asked.

"A near-deadly day in my past," Severus replied, his black eyes clouded with his memories of the terrifying incident in question.

Movement caught my eye, and I saw Madam Pomfrey, a much younger Madam Pomfrey, escorting a sandy-haired teenage boy down a small dirt path towards the Whomping Willow.

"Remus," I chirped quietly.

Severus nodded.

I watched as a slender black-haired boy walked behind them unseen, following. "You followed them to the Shack?"

"Black told me that if I wanted to know Remus' secret, to follow him when he and Pomfrey left the building that night. He said I was a nothing but a coward and didn't have the bollocks for it," Severus remembered, his face darkening as he remembered how Sirius Black had taunted him with the lure of hidden knowledge, a lure he was sure that the Slytherin boy couldn't resist.

"You had no idea what was going on or what was waiting for you that night," I said thoughtfully. "How awful."

Severus was not one known for liking pity, but he also knew that I was not attempting to make a mockery of his lack of knowledge. We had both lived for too long together now to ever fall for that trap. He preened my head, and I chirped in approval.

Suddenly, we both perked up, realizing that whatever Ron had tampered with this time was about to go down. Madam Pomfrey had returned to the castle, the younger Severus was creeping slowly towards the shack, and someone was evidently preventing James Potter from rushing up to save the day this time.

Severus warbled in concern. "This is where it goes wrong. Potter should be here now, pulling me back from the door just in time."

My thoughts were a train wreck. Ron wouldn't resort to murder. No! Would he? How well did I even know Ron? Every jump he had taken, he had lost more and more of his precarious mental stability, almost as if a form of payment for the leaps he took into the past had been taken directly from his mind.

Young Severus had disappeared into the tunnel, making his way to the hidden door. Suddenly, I knew. I knew what had to be done. "Drive back Remus," I warbled. "I'll save you."

Severus took off with me following closely behind. We arrived in time to see young Severus open the door and only for an enraged, slavering werewolf burst out. The werewolf leapt, and Severus the phoenix slammed into him, burning with a painfully bright, white fire.

Remus the werewolf yelped in pain, whining as his skin burned from the magical fire. He limped back behind the door, which Severus slammed into with his body until he heard it latch and the magical wards that Severus had temporarily suspended to open the door were instantly reactivated.

I clasped my talons around the younger Severus' robes and flew like an arrow out of the tunnel, taking him with me. He was yelling in fear, but I wasn't in the mood to placate a frightened teenager just yet. I flew him up high towards the Hospital Wing and set him down on the ledge where I knew Poppy Pomfrey often stood to take her mind off her ailing patients.

I dumped him off unceremoniously on the ledge and immediately flew off.

Severus and I met on the ramparts of the school as the aftershocks from that particular adventure in time came to a conclusion. We fixed the minor time inconsistencies that we were permitted to mend, and we rested for the jump forward.

The school was alive with stories that "Fawkes" had saved a Slytherin boy's life after a brave Gryffindor boy had been suddenly attacked while on his way to rescue the young Severus from "a wild beast" that had been loosed in the Dark Forest. The two boys, once great enemies, became begrudging friends, and then, eventually, true friends. James Potter thoroughly chewed out Sirius for his alleged "prank", luring Severus to the Shack and nearly getting him killed. When Sirius told him it was no big deal, to just forget it and leave "the bloody Slytherin," James had stood up to his former best mate and informed him that was not going to happen. Everything had changed.

Due to James' reporting what happened to his parents in vivid detail, Sirius spent quite a few months atoning for his sins in a mind-numbing series of grueling detentions under the beady, watchful eyes of Mr Filch and Mrs Norris. By the time Sirius was finally done atoning, James and Lily had grown much closer, but the young Severus was shaking his head nearby, insulting his friends every day for being such ridiculously lovesick saps.

Wormtail, in a fluke accident in Potions thanks to the latest adventure in inept potion-making on the part of young Frank Longbottom, was permanently and inexplicably turned into a flobberworm. Following an extensive examination by Madam Pomfrey, she stated, "I have no idea why we can't change him back. I've seen this happen before to fledgling Animagi, and that's why we train them very carefully nowadays to avoid this happening, but he wasn't an Animagus or else he would have been on the registry!"

Soon after finding out about that particular grave threat to their continued manliness, Sirius and James signed up for formal lessons under Professor McGonagall and they dragged Severus in too just so they didn't have to be tortured alone.

"It's odd," Severus said to me as we perched on the ramparts.

"Oh?" I replied.

"I remember these old events, but I remember the original ones too," he explained.

I thought about my own memories for a time. "Huh, you're right. Even after all that has happened and all he's mucked up, I still remember you."

Severus preened my head gently. "As father said. We were meant to be here as we are, when we were, and when we shall be."

"Father was always so cryptic, even in his songs," I complained.

"You love that about him,"Severus accused.

"Well, yes," I admitted. "That too."

"We rest," Severus announced. "Tomorrow, we jump."

"Aye, capt'n," I replied, giving a wing salute.

I could feel Severus rolling his eyes at me.

"I won't even ask."

I grinned. "Probably better that way, my love."

That earned me a back beak-rub. I love my life.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

We arrived back to the time where Ron's latest ripple took us: the time shortly after we'd been thrown into Time's slipstream and reborn as phoenixes. All was quiet for few glorious seconds after I found myself clinging to thick curtains again. At least I hadn't slammed into them this time. Practice does makes perfect.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!" Molly's voice screeched from "somewhere" that felt more like everywhere at once. "You come down here right now, young man, and tell me why there are a team of AURORS at our front door!"

Severus and I poked our heads into the house over the Weasley's front room flower box. Our head crests rising in phoenix curiosity. There were Aurors standing in the front room with along with an elder wizard who looked like he'd spent a great many decades in the sun.

Ronald came trudging down the stairs with a familiar thud of heavy feet. "Whuuu?" he groaned, rubbing vigorously at his watery blue eyes.

Molly screamed. "Who are you?! What have you done to my son!?"

Ronald Weasley did not look like Ronald Weasley anymore, or perhaps he did, if one were to add a number of decades to his last known age. His hair was greying. His eyes had bags under them, and his skin was so wrinkled with age that he strongly resembled his great-aunt Tessie.

"Mr Weasley," the wizened, and strangely younger-looking wizard, addressed him. "I fear that we have detected a significant number of time whorls around your position in time that we have traced to a number of specific moments in recent history, beginning with certain pivotal events that occurred on June 30th, 1997 and spanning backwards to as early as 1978. We have confirmed that your tampering has affected events such as the outcome of the latest war, the passing of the Marriage Law, and the endangering of a student at Hogwarts as early as 1978. We have traced all of this activity to a very specific prototype Time-Turner that had been given the ability to leap forward in time as well as backwards, but it had been set to be decommissioned when it was discovered that anyone that used it would be aged equal to the amount of time moved backwards as well as forwards. The tool in question disappeared by the hands of Dark Wizards some years ago. One of which you have been recorded as having fought in one of your most recent Auror assignments."

"You're mental!" Ron protested angrily.

"Have you looked in a mirror recently, Ron?" Harry's voice broke in. He held out a small hand mirror to his oldest friend.

Ron took it, holding the mirror up to his face as if he expected no significant change.

The mirror went falling to the ground as Ronald Weasley began screaming in horror at the sight of his markedly aged countenance.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Mum! Mum! MUM-MUM-MUM-MUM-MUM!" a series of excited peeps assaulted my ears.

"Yes, my chicks?" I answered, stuffing dates into each hungry beak.

"Mfmfmffmfmfmfgh!" they said excitedly, trying to ask questions and eat at the same time.

"Chew and swallow your food, my chicks," Severus admonished.

"Mfffff!" they all said, heads bobbing. They chewed. They swallowed.

"Will you tell us another story! Please!" all five of my always-starving chicks begged. Starving for food, whether physical or mental, was but a phoenix's way of life. Five identical head crests of fluffy chick feathers lifted in excitement.

"Oh, and what story would you desire, my chicks?" I asked as I set myself on fire to sit upon them, letting them huddle under my softly-flickering flames to stay warm.

"Tell us the story of you and father found each other!"

"How did you know you were mates?"

"Teach us the songs! Will you teach us the songs?"

"Teach us that ballad, The Sad and Strange Tale of Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

"Tell us the tale of how we came to nest at Hogwarts!"

Hermione and Severus exchanged glances, their head crests bobbing up and down in synchronisation.

Severus puffed out his feathered chest. "I will tell you the tale of the first phoenix named Fawkes," he said, "of which all of us are called, but none of us are truly Named."

All five lint-ball chicks cheeped and twittered excitedly. "Hurray!"

"Now, hush, and listen," Severus admonished. "My tale begins a long time ago, as humans measure it. It begins and ends with a legendary phoenix whose name has always been… Fawkes."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- And they all lived happily ever after. -o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this feverish little crack-fic, my lovelies. Strange things happen when I have a fever, and since I was apparently sharing the love, my poor beta was suffering too. Praise her!