The small tuft of gray feathers hopped across the desk within the oven-room. His head cocked around the room, glancing here and there for a familiar face. There was the red-headed boy who always waved him away, sitting in the chair across the bed from a dark haired boy. That one had always been nice enough to him and always brought something nice for him. So with a flutter of wings, he flew over there more like a hummingbird than an owl.
He landed squarely on the spectacled-boy's shoulder and pulled on a lock of dark hair. The boy fished in his pocket and retrieved an owl treat, holding it up to the gray puffball on his shoulder. Pigwindeon ignored it. Instead he pulled on a lock of hair again. Harry held up the treat once again, but when it was ignore again, he balanced it precariously on his shoulder neck to the blind bird. Pig pushed it off defiantly, looking for his larger, white-feathered friend instead.
When the redhead made a start for him, lunging to wave him away, Pig flew away without further encouragement. He fluttered out of the orange room and down the stairs of the Burrow. The plump older witch was at the sink, conducting the sponge to clean the spoons while yelling at one of the older redheads. Something about a haircut and scissors.
Finding the fight boring and dull, as it had been going on for the past few days, the gray mass made his way into the den. He settled on the back of the worn couch, looking over a shoulder donning long ginger hair, his bright eyes peering at the chess board beyond. Ginny was playing George (the gray ball caught on to the 'holey' jokes and was now proud to say he could distinguish the carbon copies) and crushing him mightily. Pig twisted his head a near 180 degrees to the window behind him. Out in the garden Fred and Bill were dueling tables and there was no snowy owl watching with disdain.
He flew over to the sill, peering out just to be sure Hedwig was, in fact, not there. If owls could form facial expressions, his would be one of confusion. It was the middle of the day and the little owl knew the white one didn't go out to eat until later. So where was she?
It was frankly quite upsetting and he let out a painful screech.
"Pig!" George cried at his outburst, "Will you shut it?" When he did the exact opposite Ginny sashayed over and scooped the small fowl in her elegant arms.
"Don't listen to George," she whispered softly, "He just misses his ear. It's the closest thing to death he's really gotten. He doesn't understand that you and Hedwig were peas in a pod. And it doesn't help that the wedding's soon," she added, "everyone's all riled up about that." She brought him back to her game of chess, sitting him in her lap as she continued to whoop George's ass.
If owls could form facial expressions, his would be one of grief.
Hours later, while the moon had just reached it's peak in the summer sky, Pigwindeon scuttled in the raven-haired boy's room. He tucked himself under the teenager's chin, shaking his graft tuft of a body, and settled into sleep, satisfied that at least something about the air smelled of Hedwig.
Omgomgomgomgomgomg I knowiknowiknowiknow, I havent been sighted for like AGES. Anyway I got grounded and now schools started up again. And yeah….senior year…a boo-yah. But yeah, im so so so so so so so so so sorry.
Please forgive me via review: