Well, I had this in my computer for a while, and I decided to at least finish a chapter. I'm not going to tell you if this is worth the effort to read this. Make sure you have nothing better to do, 'cause I don't want to have any death threats on my head for wasting people's time. But please, enjoy if you can.

Disclaimer: Um, yeah, not mine. I'm not even British! Only in my fantasies.

Fire Angel

Kronos

A two year old Angelina Johnson, early awakened from afternoon nap, toddled into the kitchen unbeknownst by the rest of her family. Normally getting up around lunch time, she comes in to find her father, and this was her favorite part of the day because he always gives her an early treat before the family comes in, but only if she could answer the biggest most important question ever. It was always the same one, and he would ask in a serious voice:

"Now, who is the best, brightest, and most beautiful daughter any loving father could hope for?"

And her baby round face would burst into a smile and would always answer:

"I am!"

And he would pick her up, kiss her in the forehead or cheek, and give her a cookie from the top of the refrigerator, which was where all the only good food was kept, though her mom would never believe her.

But to today she found herself in an empty kitchen. Being the smart girl she was, she saw the set up table and the pot on the stove and knew that her father was nearby, and she calmly waited for him to come back into the room.

Soon a noise started to distract her. It was a high, bubbly sound, kind of like the sound her drinks make when she puffed up her cheeks and blew air into the straw. No, wait . . .there was a hissing noise too, like . . .like the sound of ready tea. She knew that when tea and other hot things made hissing noises it was time to take it off the stove, and since her dad wasn't there to do it himself, she'd do it for him.

Giggling with the joy of helping, she trotted to the oven to get it, and was quickly dismayed; she couldn't reach it! She thought she could reach it if she stood really high on her tippy toes, but the handle still eluded her. She looked toward the kitchen table, but she knew she couldn't move a chair after an aborted attempt to get to the 'real food' at the top of the refrigerator. But she really wanted to help. She had to do something!

There was a small ring that hung off the pot handle, and she tried to get her small fingers in that to grab it and slide it off. She hopped once. Missed. Twice. Three times. A fourth. Two pudgy child fingers made it into the silver loop, and the pot of boiling water flipped over with all her weight.

Her short, shrill scream mingled with that of her father's as he witnessed his daughter being doused with boiling water, the black pot clattering against her shoulder with a hollow clang.

Her horrified father snatched Angelina and placed her in the kitchen sink. Sobbing out self curses he turned on the cold tap and tried to soak her in the cold water, which made her yowl all the harder. He made the feat of frantically looking her over, trying to sooth the howling toddler, and asking if she was okay a million times in about two seconds.

As he looked over his child's face and arms, Mr. Johnson was surprised to see not even slightest peeling- or any irritation- on Angelina. He did see one burned victim that had a pot of boiling water thrown in his face in a medical show, and although much darker, the girl's body looked nothing like the horribly red and peeling face of the other victim. Surprisingly, the only thing she was complaining about was the cold water, and that fact that her shoulder hurt. The part of her shoulder that the pot had slammed against has turned an angry purplish color. He finally pulled her out when it was becoming obvious that Angelina thought he put her here for some kind of punishment. Pitiful dark eyes stared from a curtain of sopping black hair.

"I-I'm sahwee for spilling the water. I won't do it again I swear. It's cold."

Stunned, he cut off the water and set the dripping girl down on her feet. Crouching down with to get one last look over, he asked her again if she was okay, if her skins hurts at all. She looked at him confused, and slowly said. "My skin hurts . . .here," and pointed to her injured shoulder.

Taking his wide eyed look for anger, tears again started to well up in her eyes, but her lucky father wasn't having any of that. He gave her a dozen of kisses, and after she was dried and changed she got three cookies! Amazed, she asked if she could even tell her mom she had three cookies before her meal. Her father simply replied:

"Darling, there will be a lot of things we won't be telling your mother today."

The family had a simple lunch of cold cut sandwiches that day.

A twenty year old Angelina Johnson walked into Headmaster Dumbledore's office, and finding if empty decided to wait for his return. She was unsurprised since McGonagall, her old charms teacher, told her that Dumbledore was off getting her partner for her next assignment.

Despite her friends or even her own first guess, Angelina entered Auror training after graduating Hogwarts. Actually her future plans never really involved Quidditch; she originally aspired to become a Medi-witch to help out with the growing amount of injuries that is going hand-in-hand with the intensity of the war. She even went as far as to seek an internship with Promfrey before a couple of well placed hints and suggestions by the Headmaster himself ended up in the last minute tweaking of her grades so she could get into the training. The surprised Weasley boys then joked that she just 'got positioned' by Dumbledore, but he was always so wrapped up in Harry Potter that she seriously doubted that she was manipulated into anything in particular. He just brought up some good valid points. That she would never have thought up by herself. Which kind of totally changed her life plans. . . but not drastically! She knew she wanted to help out in the war effort when she got out, and the reason that she didn't originally consider joining the Aurors was because her marks were just under the requirements. Actually she never quite hit the mark, but she got in anyway. She always thought that slack came from the increasing serious situation. . . Had she heardof anyone else being slipped into the training?

Well, there was no point of thinking about that now. She got into it and wasn't by far the worse case they've had, so things worked out in the end.

Or maybe not so well, she thought a bit sourly. The only special part about this assignment was that she got to be in Dumbledore's office (and being one of the students to have frequently existed within ten meters of the twins she made that honor a couple of times by herself during school), and its greatest mystery was why the Headmaster would have anything to do with this really.

If it wasn't for the fact that Dumbledore was said to have asked for her personally (she was surprise he still knew she existed after she left), she should probably be insulted. For all intents purposes she was being sent somewhere. Really anonymous. To look for "something" that may be happening that could possibly be related to Voldemort activity. Maybe.

Okay, she knew that most important schemes could and should be found in the lesser of likely places, but being that only two people were being sent out, and any suspicion of the area purely coming from the faintest, and not really consistent rumors, she could guess that this was not one of such schemes. That and those snide comments from that wench Bersley. . .

Deciding that making herself angry would not do her any good, not-quite-sullen dark eyes scanned their way across the office. The office managed to look nearly identical to the last time she saw it, only gaining an odd looking paperweight and missing the phoenix. Huh. In mild surprise she turned to look at the perch, wondering why it took her so long to notice his absence. She wandered over to peer inside of it. Maybe he went through one of those burning things? She never got to see one of those and she was always curious— ahh, Fawkes!

The phoenix seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, his sharp talons nearly pricking her skin and her right eye nearly blinded by the light before she could think to turn away. The fire around him died as he pressed himself against her cheek and proceeded to greet her, and she lifted a brown hand to stroke it in return. A low laugh bubbled from within her. He was always warm.

"Heh heh, hello to you too Fawkes! How are you?" She was amused by the bird's trilling response.

"Ah, I see we are all having a good reunion," Dumbledore jovially exclaimed as he reentered his office. Angelina started and turned.

"Headmaster . . ."

"Headmaster? I believe we are beyond this my dear. Call me Albus."

"Ah- Albus . . ." He smiled at her genially as he started back toward his desk. He stopped by to pet the still singing phoenix, who soon alighted her shoulder and started flapping around the room. After waiting a moment to see if Albus was going to react to his pet's behavior, she started to ask about why she was specifically ask to go do . . .whatever it was, before she heard an agitated voice approaching behind her.

"Albus, if you don't get that bird quiet . . ."

She again turned to see her assumed partner, smiling. Another person could have frozen by this point, but her continued smile didn't look terribly unnatural. Angelina rarely admits any talents, but one thing that she was consistently told was that she had never visibly produce a false smile. An odd comment that, but for its own randomness and its habit for coming up on multiple unrelated occasions she just assumed it to be true. Hiding your emotions was always a double-edged sword, but it was always handy for politeness sake. And really, this was all that she had going for her, because if she even thought of opening her mouth. . .

"Ah, Severus. Glad of you to join us."

The professor didn't falter in his step, but he did give Headmaster a dirty look. "I was right behind you Albus." As he stepped up to the desk next to the suspiciously neutral Angelina he had no intention of acknowledging the girl, but her façade of indifference was intriguing. He wondered how long she could keepit up. He nodded. "Ms. Johnson."

Angelina turned to face him, wondering if she could get away without saying anything, and decided that she couldn't. He was a bit brusque but not rude enough to deserve a similar response. Ah well, what was in a name?

"Professor Snape." Hah, her voice was just a bit above normal but other than that it was perfect. Not glowing with delight but polite enough. And she was not panicking. Like to panic. But not panicking.

"Oh, I'm sure Severus will never accept that! Call him Severus."

As soon as Snape opened his mouth to more than likely give his opinion on that particular comment, Fawkes swooped down to him and, for all that Snape was concerned, attacked him. After a brief flurry of feathers, squawking, and curses, the scene ended in the phoenix sitting calmly on the man's shoulder, and the professor's face a good three steps down from glaring death. If you knew Snape you'd know that this had obviously happened before.

"Albus!"

"Aw, Severus, you knew he always liked you." Fawkes cooed in agreement.

Angelina smiles may all seem genuine, but that doesn't mean that they all can't be sincere.

A/N: I'll stop here, since I don't know how much effort I'll put into this. Compliments, comments, criticisms, flames, flagrant disregards for my self-esteem, all are welcome here. If this story catches anybody's eye I must know who tripped in here. I'll just put down a brief list of things that crossed my mind as I was writing this, to maybe route some questions that may pop up.

I've forgotten the motor skills of a two year old, but I'll doubt it is how I've written it. I originally toddlerized all of it, but it looked so corny I couldn't keep it that way. sigh Just try to work with me here; that's the gist of what she said. I think all the words work, doesn't it? If not, she's a really smart kid.

I apologize for any and all the butchering in my portrayal of the mythical phoenix.

And for any inconsistencies with Aurors and their training processes. That's why I've tended to glaze over those details for now.

As well as any grammar/spelling stuff. I won't formally ask for a beta unless I decide to continue this thing.

Any other oddities could well be intentional.