CHAPTER TWENTY: ICARUS' REPLY

The next day, he skipped breakfast and waited in the common room for Draco to come back.

At about nine o'clock, Draco entered through the portrait unaccompanied. Icarus stood up quickly, grabbed his wrist and pulled the boy into his room, locking the door behind him.

"Icarus, what-"

Icarus kissed him. It wasn't gentle, like the one they'd shared in the gardens at Christmas, but fierce and hungry and full of longing.

Draco froze for a moment, before closing his eyes and returning it. Icarus pushed him forward and Draco tripped over the trunk onto the bed, with the older boy landing on top of him. Legs tangling, he moaned as he felt their groins rub together.

As if suddenly realizing what he'd just done, Icarus jerked himself away, falling off the end of the bed.

Draco sat up, flushed and breathing heavily. He looked at the other boy, who had buried his head in his hands, shaking.

"I'm sorry, Draco," Icarus said, voice muffled. "I didn't mean - I didn't mean to force you like that -"

"Well, I, for one, quite enjoyed it." said Draco. Icarus didn't reply. He sighed and climbed off the bed, moving to sit next to Icarus on the floor. "I'm really, really sorry for what I said to you at Christmas."

"It's alright," muttered Icarus.

"No it's not!" snapped Draco angrily. "It was the most - the most - well, it was messed up, what I said. I know it. You had your reasons and instead of hearing you out, I -"

Icarus had looked up. He was trembling and his face was twisted in sorrow. Draco stopped speaking.

He pulled Icarus into a hug awkwardly and a dam inside the boy seemed to break. He shook silently for a long time, soaking Draco's robes in tears.

About an hour later, he muttered something about classes.

"No one gives damn about classes," grumbled Draco. Icarus chuckled weakly.

They talked for the rest of the day and for the most part, lay on the bed, legs tangled and watching the other with fondness. Draco told him what Dumbledore had announced at breakfast, about him arguing with some of his oldest friends, about everything that had happened since they'd stopped talking.

Icarus listened patiently, playing with the boy's hair. When Draco was done, it was Icarus' turn to speak. Stories only his father knew slipped out of his mouth like water - what had happened with Moody the night before, the woman in his dreams, being raped in London (Draco said all sorts of things at this one, and it took a while for Icarus to calm him down), the rise of the Dark Lord...

"Promise me you'll be safe this summer, Draco," he said, meeting the boy's gaze sternly. "Or as safe as you can be, considering your father's a Death Eater."

"I'll do my best," Draco said. He looked at Icarus curiously, stroking the boys face.

"Can I see it?"

Icarus grinned mischievously. "See what?"

Draco slapped him fondly on the arm, blushing. "Your eye, idiot. Not..." he glanced down and swallowed.

Icarus rolled them over so he was straddling the boy.

"Not my fault you have a dirty imagination, Draco." he murmured softly, leaning down so he was only inches away from his face. He removed the patch and met Draco's eyes.

Draco gasped softly, taking in the gold eye.

"It's beautiful," he whispered.

"Is it?" asked Icarus, frowning. "I've always thought -"

But Draco didn't let him say what he'd always thought, because he swallowed the boys words with a kiss.

. . .

Icarus spent the last week trying to forget what the summer would bring.

Now that there was no Defense Against the Dark Arts classes, he spent that time at Hagrid's Hut.

The warm air brushed past him as he leapt nimbly down the fields towards the open door. Fang greeted him enthusiastically, booming barks echoing up to the castle. Hagrid ran to the open door to see who it was and his face broke into such a huge grin, that Icarus felt quite bad about not visiting him as often as he usually did.

"Hey, Hagrid," he grinned, scratching Fang behind the ears. "How've you been?"

"Icarus!" Hagrid said, pulling him into a hug so tight, the boy thought his ribs would break. "I'm glad yer alright. After - well, y'know -"

"I'm fine, Hagrid," Icarus said, rubbing his ribs and sitting down. The sun blazed bright through Hagrid's little window.

They spent the hour talking and when Icarus left, he gave Hagrid the biggest flagon the fellow had ever seen. Hagrid's eyes began to water as he noticed the dragon and the three-headed dog in its design.

"Don't start crying on me, Hagrid."

Hagrid sniffled. "I dunno what yeh on 'bout."

In the afternoons, he would help his father in his office or his classroom - for all he knew, he wouldn't be seeing him again for a long, long time. Often, they spent their time in silence, communicating through their thoughts rather than by talking. He had rarely felt so close with the man.

At meal times, he jumped between hanging out with Draco, Hermione and Viktor. Mostly, he just stuck with Draco. Hermione wasn't allowed in the kitchens anymore.

"Vill you come to Bulgaria in the summer?" asked Viktor one day, watching him carefully.

Icarus swallowed the bite of food he'd just taken.

"Probably not. Sorry."

"It is alright," Viktor smiled. "I am glad you are not drinking as much."

At Draco's glowering look, Icarus buried his face in his hand.

Viktor was very confused.