Prologue
Blaise looked up as an indigo hummingbird flew through his open window. It was a warm summer's day and the air was laced with the scent of the garden just outside his window. Herbal and floral smells mixing harmoniously with the fainter smells of the vegetable and fruit garden farther away. There were birds everywhere, but one bird in particular had caught his attention. This bird was a hummingbird, its feathers a strange colouration of indigo and gold. His watchful gaze held it knowingly, and his suspicions were proved when it darted through his open window.
She was carrying a peculiar package decked in brown paper and tied with a forest green ribbon. It had been shrunk so that she could carry it. He knew she would be weary. She had, after all, flown from a different continent. He wandered downstairs to collect something, as well as give her some time to rest. She only had a mere week before she would have to return home; and as much as they anticipated seeing each other, she desperately needed a long nap.
When Blaise returned upstairs an hour later, with a late breakfast for the both of them, the sight he was met with was humorous. She had returned to her human form, and was spread out, face down on his bed, her long, wild, almost-black curls going everywhere. Her hair was longer than he remembered, though she had been growing it out for years so that didn't surprise him. It was tied back with a golden ribbon. He didn't wake her, inferring that that would be suicide. Instead, he was content with a book for the time being. Eventually, he went back downstairs and put her breakfast in the fridge. He started to wonder where his mother had gone to.
He was sixteen and perfectly capable of taking care of himself, she was thirty-four, and not. She often wandered off on expeditions which were becoming more frequent as he got older. It was fine by him. They didn't quite get along in the first place, especially when she was sober. At least when she was under the influence she didn't expect anything of him.
On his way back up the stairs he tripped and smacked his face on the banister. This led to a bleeding nose. He ran straight for the bathroom and put his face in the sink. He wasn't used to his newfound height yet, and missed the graceful manner in which he preferred to hold himself dearly. It would return eventually when he got used to his new height. At least, he hoped it did. While he was cleaning up his face he spotted someone in the mirror. He jumped, as he had almost forgotten about the person asleep in his bed. She noticed his jump, her eyebrow raised, hand on her hip and her sliver eyes she broke the silence.
"Well it's nice to see you too, Beanpole."
Blaise jumped on her, laughing and crying tears of joy at seeing her again. They stayed wrapped in each other's embrace in the bathroom for a long time. When they at last broke apart there was an awkward silence.
"So…" she said awkwardly, kicking her combat-booted toe against the tile floor of the bathroom.
"There's food for you in the kitchen," he said. She dashed downstairs in a way that said that was exactly the right thing for Blaise to say in that situation. When he finally descended the staircase she was waiting impatiently in the kitchen. He told her to take her shoes off, put them upstairs and come back down. Only then he would feed her.
"You sound like my mother!" she had exclaimed accusingly.
"And how do you know what your mother would do in a situation like this, Phoenix? You're a runaway, you haven't seen your mother in years," in any normal circumstance, this would have been a soft spot for someone who had ran away. But not with Phoenix, especially not when it was Blaise that was commenting on it.
"This is true," Phoenix accepted.
She then did as he said, and after eating her breakfast they walked around the trails near the Zabini household.
When the sun started to set they went inside. They ate, washed up and both crawled into Blaise's king-sized bed. Nothing would happen between them. They were only childhood friends, best friends. Their relationship was entirely platonic. It's not exactly as if either of them were sexy bedtime dressers, either. Phoenix was wearing the largest t-shirt known to man and grey sweats. Her hair was tied up and there wasn't a speck of makeup to be seen on her face. Blaise was wearing penguin pyjama pants. The bed was merely a convenience for them. They fell asleep that night anticipating spending time together and not thinking about any issues that may arise. Why would they? They were perfectly safe from danger and perfectly concealed from everyone. Almost everyone, anyways.