CHAPTER EIGHT: A TERRIBLE CHRISTMAS
He took his time going to the owlery, relishing in the silence of the castle. Everyone else had gone back home for the holidays so he'd had to write a letter to Draco apologizing for leaving him behind at the Three Broomsticks the day before.
He spent hours wandering the grounds - steering clear of the lake - before he went back to his common room to finish his winter homework.
The days passed slowly and without event.
. . .
He woke on Christmas morning, feeling unusually dejected. Dressing quickly in a cashmere sweater and trousers, he went to open the small pile of presents.
Draco had sent him a copy of Advanced Potion Making, thanking him for the watch Icarus had brought him. Hermione, a box of salt water taffy and his dad had sent him a new cauldron.
"Perfect timing," he said with a grin.
He hadn't even told him about his offer to help Professor Lupin.
Hagrid had sent him a box of fudge which he had to heat for a while before eating. He ate only a little before getting up and making his way to his father's office.
"You're up," he said in surprise, when he saw Snape sat near the fireplace in his pajamas.
"Yes," said Snape, sipping on a cup of coffee, "Merry Christmas."
"You're never up first."
"Shut up and sit down," said Snape.
Icarus grinned, joining him at the fireplace. They played several games of exploding snap and one game of wizard's chess until it was time to go to the Christmas feast.
Snape didn't stop grumbling about it until they reached the Great Hall and Icarus went to sit next to Hermione.
Though there were very few of them, yet again, the teachers had outdone themselves. Great Christmas trees, decorated with candles and baubles, lined the walls and streams of Holly and Mistletoe wrapped themselves around the door frames.
Snape sat reluctantly next to Dumbledore and Icarus snickered softly at his discomfort. It was even worse when the two of them pulled a cracker and a large witch's hat appeared, a large vulture balancing on it.
It seemed no one wanted Snape to forget Neville's boggart anytime soon.
He pushed the hat towards Dumbledore, who happily swapped it with his own.
"Dig in!"
Icarus was in the middle of discussing Herbology quite quite happily with Professor Sprout when the doors burst open and he looked over to see a very unique woman. Hermione groaned next to him.
"Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" said Dumbledore, standing up.
"I have been crystal gazing, Headmaster," she said, her owl-like eyes looking around at them all as she glided over, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and joining you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness..."
"Is that her?" Icarus whispered, leaning towards Hermione.
"Yes," she grumbled.
"Certainly, certainly," said Dumbledore, "let me draw you up a chair..."
A chair appeared in the air and landed softly between Snape and Professor McGonagall. Neither of them looked happy about the arrangement - especially Professor McGonagall.
"I dare not, Headmaster!" she said suddenly, "If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"
"We'll risk it, Sybill," said Professor McGonagall, "do sit down, the turkey's getting cold."
Professor Trelawney lowered herself into the chair, her jaw clenched. Professor McGonagall poked a large spoon into the nearest bowl of food.
"Tripe, Sybill?"
The teacher ignored her, looking around the table carefully.
"But where is dear Professor Lupin?"
"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," said Dumbledore, "most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."
Icarus glanced up at the ceiling and almost dropped his fork. Snape shot him an exasperated glance.
"But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" asked Professor McGonagall, her eyebrows raised.
"Of course I knew, Minerva," she replied, "but one does not parade the fact that one is all-knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the inner eye, so as not to make other's nervous."
"That explains a great deal," said Professor McGonagall matter-of-factly.
Icarus watched the two of them with growing amusement.
"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I offered to crystal gaze for him-"
"Imagine that," Professor McGonagall said dryly, biting into a roast potato.
"I doubt," said Dumbledore, happily but loudly, "that Professor Lupin is in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"
"Yes," said Snape, scowling.
"Good. Then he should be up and about in no time...Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."
Everyone returned to eating and talking quite quickly. It was about an hour later, however, when Icarus accidentally made eye contact with Professor Trelawney.
After learning Legilimency from his father the year before, he'd gotten extremely good at it - so good, in fact, that there were times he couldn't control it. This was one of those times.
When he saw his own broken, lifeless body staring back at him, he almost threw up the trifle he'd just eaten.
He put his spoon down and stood up, jerking in surprise when she shrieked loudly.
"My boy! Why did you stand up?!"
"What?" he said, feeling weak, "I'm leaving. Why else?"
"Don't you remember -"
"Honestly, Professor," he said, "knowing my luck, it wouldn't make much difference anyway."
Something clattered and he looked over to see that Snape had dropped his goblet. He turned to leave and entered the first empty classroom he could find. There had been no point in eating, it seemed.
. . .
Snape found Icarus curled up in a corner of his office after he left the feast, exhausted. Minerva was not the only one who disliked Sybill Trelawney.
"Icarus?" he said, kneeling down and reaching to brush the boy's hair back.
Icarus flinched and Snape moved his hand away apologetically.
"What's the matter?"
The boy looked up slowly, his face stained with tears.
"Could I stay with you tonight?" he whispered.
"Yes," said Snape, his heart breaking, "of course."
. . .