CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: INTO THE NIGHT

For the first time, Icarus decided to see his friends off on the last day of school. The Entrance Hall was crowded with students, their trunks and their pets. His own cat, Mihos, jumped onto his shoulders and settled there, purring loudly.

"You have everything?" he asked, looking at Draco.

"For the last time, yes."

Icarus rolled his eyes. He'd only asked two times before. It was Draco's fault if anything went missing along the way.

They watched the Beauxbatons carriage in the distance. Hagrid was harnessing the great winged horses to it and they were preparing to leave. Madame Maxime strode over to speak with him.

Icarus had never really gotten too close with the Beauxbatons. They, unlike the Durmstrang students, were not easy people to approach, so he never tried.

"Icarus," said Viktor, walking up to them. "Vill you vrite to me?"

Icarus smiled slightly, "I'll do my best."

Draco scowled at him, but Viktor looked pleased enough. He reached out to pat Mihos.

"It is good enough," he said, shrugging. "I am going to speak to Herm-own-ninny. Have a good summer."

"You too."

Viktor shook Draco's hand, ruffled Icarus' hair and walked away. They sat down on Draco's trunk, watching the carriages come up the castle.

"Do you know what pulls those?" Icarus murmured, watching the thestrals moving slowly up the hill.

Draco shook his head, "I thought they were enchanted or something."

"No. They're pulled by creatures called thestrals," said Icarus quietly. "Black, winged and skeletal horses. They're an...interesting type of beautiful."

"Why can't I see them?"

Icarus turned to him and a shutter seemed to close over the one eye Draco could see.

"You can only see them when you've witnessed death firsthand."

He looked at his hands, which were raw with how much he'd washed them. He knew only too well what death looked like.

"Oh," sighed Draco. Slowly, he took one of Icarus pale hands into his own and held it.

The shutter cleared, and the boys eye glittered with life again.

"Any plans for the holidays?" asked Icarus.

"Not really," said Draco, leaning on the boys shoulder. "Father will probably want me to attend a bunch of events, like usual. Do you think - should I tell him? About us?"

"That," Icarus said, "is entirely up to you. I do not know your father well enough to know how he would react."

The first carriages pulled up to the oak doors and students began to clamber forward, rushing to get their things on them and go back to their homes. Where they would be happy, safe, comfortable - the memory of Cedric Diggory buried somewhere far away.

Draco waited until the Entrance Hall was almost clear before he stood up and dragged his things to the last carriages. Icarus helped him get them in there - Mihos perched painfully on the boys shoulder - and then helped Draco climb into the carriage.

"Be as safe as you can," Icarus said, looking up at the boy.

"Will you write to me?"

"I'll do my best."

Icarus watched until the carriage disappeared at the bottom of the hill, before he turned and walked back into the school.

It's strange, he thought, how one moment everything could be so full of life and noise, and the next, nothing.

He was walking through the courtyard, when Dumbledore strolled over to speak to him. The Professor walked next to him for a while, in silence.

He chuckled to himself at one point, and Icarus glanced at him.

"You are very much like your father," Dumbledore said softly. "I do not think I have ever seen two people with larger hearts than the both of you."

Icarus remained silent. Dumbledore sighed.

"I cannot apologize enough, Icarus, for what you will both be enduring soon enough. After fourteen years..." His eyes looked slightly misty. "I know I ask too much, from you and from him -"

"Then why do you ask for it?" Icarus asked quietly.

Dumbledore fell silent. Icarus could sense the grief coming off the man in waves. He stopped walking, and Dumbledore followed suit.

"I will make this clear - and one time only - I am not on a side. I will never choose a side. I will never be your warrior, or Voldemort's. My sole priority is the safety of those I care about. If you do anything, anything, to bring my father or..." he hesitated, "or Draco, into further harm's way...Understand then that my sole goal will be to destroy everything you've ever worked for. The same goes for him. For Voldemort."

Dumbledore listened to him silently, his features older than Icarus ever remembered them. Icarus blinked slowly, watching the man's expression.

"He wants me on his side," He said quietly. "He knows I have power, and a lot of it. He doesn't know where it comes from. What it is. Do you?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"The woman you found in the churchyard, my mother - was a Valkyrie." He began to walk again. "She had been alive for a long, long time before I was born. You see, only the birth of a child would bring about their death. Valkyries are made of the darkest of magics. The only true immortals, in a way. According to her, I am the first child of a Valkyrie that has survived so long."

Dumbledore was listening in amazement.

"How do you -"

"I spoke to her, in my dreams, all year." He chuckled harshly. "I only recently managed to get her out of my head. It was very frustrating, being drowned so many times. She never liked me. Never wanted me."

"Did she tell you why you could speak Parseltongue?"

Icarus glanced at him, surprised.

"Do you know who Isolt Sayre is?"

"The founder of Ilvermorny? Of course."

"My mothers name was Hildr. And her mothers name was Isolt. Isolt was descended from a family known to us as 'The House of Gaunt'." Dumbledore stumbled on the hem of his robes. Icarus raised an eyebrow. "She was taken from her crib, stolen, at the early age of one month. It takes a long time for a Valkyrie to be created and she was never entirely sure who did so. According to her, there is a prophecy about me. It is the only reason she drugged my father that one night and slept with him. The only reason I was ever born."

"What is the prophecy?"

Icarus frowned, "She never got around to telling me."

They looked over and saw Snape waiting at the end of the hallway. He lounged against a pillar, the summer sun brushing through his hair. He'd taken off his glamour and was watching them move slowly towards him.

"Thank you for telling me this, Icarus," said Dumbledore.

"Do not mistake this for trust, Professor." said Icarus quietly, coldly. "There are things that certain people should understand, and others that they shouldn't. I would rather you have possession of this information than Voldemort. For all I know, it is likely I took my mother's immortality when I was born. Maybe that's why my kind doesn't usually live so long - because there are others after us, for the powers only we can possess."

He shrugged and looked over to his father. Dumbledore followed his line of sight and smiled sadly.

"This summer will be a long one," the man said. "I trust you will be safe?"

"As safe as I can be."

Icarus left Dumbledore without a backwards glance and joined his father's side. Together, they walked out of the castle and towards the fields near the Shrieking Shack.

"What were you talking about?"

"I told him about Hildr."

"Ah," said Snape, turning slightly pale.

It was a beautiful day; the sun blazed high above them and the grass swayed like a sea of emeralds. Life was everywhere they looked.

"If I had any other choice, I would take you, and we would run away somewhere - far away -"

Icarus shook his head.

"But we don't. We must do what is expected of us. Act like the bishops they wish us to play."

Snape grimaced, looking away.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "If I hadn't be such a fool in my youth, you never would have had to go through this."

Icarus pulled the taller man into a hug. It was returned, gently.

Then with a crack, they apparated outside their house in Laugharne - a little seaside town in Wales. Snape looked at Icarus for a moment, as if it would be his last time seeing the boy, and disapparated.

Looking down the empty street, where the sun had turned the roads blood red, Icarus noticed for the first time how very, very alone he was.

The careless summers of his youth were gone.

The night lay ahead.