Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, JKR does
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Icarus sprinted down the halls of Hogwarts, making his way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. He, Alan, and Phillip were late for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and they decided to see who could make it to class first. Icarus stopped just in front of the doorway. "I win!" he announced to Alan and Philip who were now competing for second place in their race.
Icarus triumphantly turned on his heel and started to walk into the classroom when he froze. "What are you doing here?"
The greasy haired and hooked nose bastard—whoops, sorry, professor, stood at the front of the classroom. His lips curled into a sneer as he regarded Icarus.
"It's nice of you to join us, Black," Snape said, practically spitting out Icarus's last name. "And as to what I am doing here, must I remind you that I am one of your teachers?" His tone was filled with disgust and borderline hatred. Snape had been like this since their first class together, and Icarus had no idea what he had done to wrong the potions master.
"This is the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, not potions." By now, Alan and Phillip were standing behind Icarus.
"Yes, I am well aware of that." Annoyance was now seeping into his words.
"Go back to your dungeon, Snape."
Laughter rang out and Snape's nostrils flared. Glaring at Icarus, he said, "Five points from Slytherin and Gryffindor. Now, take your seats."
The three boys made their way to the back of the classroom and sat down in their usual seats. Icarus didn't know when it started, but in every class, they all sat in the same spot each time. It was like an unspoken rule between the fifth years.
"Open your textbooks to page 364," Snape said. The words had barely left his mouth when Icarus raised his hand.
"Yes, Mr. Black?" Snape said as the other students got out their textbooks and started to flip to page 364.
"Where's Lupin?" Students looked up to watch the exchange between the student and professor.
"I'm afraid he's fallen ill." Snape's eyes had a maliciously gleeful look in them that made Icaus think that Snape was happy about what ever illness had befallen his favorite professor.
Another student's hand went up, this time a girl from Gryffindor. "Professor, we've already learned about werewolves."
Snape gave her a lazy but cruel smile. "Have you?" His words were unnervingly calm and his tone was cool. He directed his attention to the entire class. "Well then, I'm sure none of you will have a problem in telling me the differences between a werewolf and a normal wolf?" He started to walk down the aisles separating the desks, most likely trying to intimidate and scare the students.
A few hands went up, but Snape appeared to be oblivious to them. Icarus was not one of them.
Snape suddenly rounded on Icarus. "Black, can you tell me the signs that someone is a werewolf?"
Anger started to bubble in Icarus. Why was Snape picking on him? There were clearly other students who couldn't remember the answers to his questions, but Snape wasn't singling them out. And instead of saying that he didn't know the answer, he decided to blurt out, "I don't know, can I?"
A few kids laughed, but they stopped when Snape glared at them. Anger quickly flashed over Snape's face. "Ten points from Slytherin and detention, Black," Snape said, barely containing the fury in his voice. He spat Icarus's last name out with contempt.
Icarus stared Snape down until the professor looked away from him and started to list the differences between a werewolf and a normal wolf.
Icarus rolled his eyes. Snape seemed to have some sort of vendetta against him ever since Icarus's first potions class.
The rest of Defense Against the Dark Arts passed by painfully slow, and Icarus couldn't wait to leave the room and Snape behind, especially when the professor assigned the class an essay on werewolves. An essay! The class had been outraged. Why was Snape making them write a paper on a subject that they had already learned about? He jumped up when class was over and shoved his books back into his bag, hoping to exit the classroom unnoticed by Snape. His hopes weren't realized, however.
"Black, a word."
Icarus stopped in the doorway and groaned.
"We'll wait for you outside," Phillip said in a low voice. Icarus gave the slightest of nods as a response, and he watched Phillip and Alan leave.
He turned around and marched to Snape's desk. "Yes?" He didn't bother to hide the annoyed tone in his voice.
"Your detention will be tonight, nine o'clock sharp. You will be washing the sheets on the beds in the infirmary by hand, and then making the beds without magic. Do not be late."
"Yes, sir," Icarus said, exiting the classroom as quickly as possible so he wouldn't be in the room when Snape realized Icarus's tone to be one of mockery.
"What was it this time?" Phillip asked when he spotted Icarus.
"He wants me to wash the sheets in the infirmary and then replace them."
"Could be worse," Alan said. "Remember when Filch made us wax the floors?"
"That took us hours," Icarus said.
"Yeah, so, washing sheets won't be that bad."
"And maybe," Phillip piped up, "you ask Lupin why the hell he decided to make Snape his substitute while he's sick."
"Maybe," Icarus answered.
--
Icarus walked into the hospital wing, slightly out of breath. He had lost track of the time and he had rushed to make it to the hospital wing at nine. Normally, he wouldn't care about being late for a detention, but he didn't exactly want to give Snape an excuse to give him a week's worth of detentions.
"Hello, Poppy," he greeted the med witch. She was probably the only staff member whose first name he could use without any consequences. He had once called McGonagall Minnie, and Merlin was she not happy with him; the glare she sent his way was enough to convince him to never call her that again.
"Hello, Mr. Black," Poppy said. "Am I safe to assume that you know what you're detention consists of?"
"Yes ma'am," he said, giving the witch a charming smile. "Washing the sheets and then remaking the beds. No magic."
"Well then, what are you doing just standing there? Off to work!"
And so he did.
He started by stripping the sheets off of the beds, washing them, letting them dry, and replacing them with new sheets.
About halfway through his detention, he realized that Lupin wasn't in the hospital wing. "Hey, Poppy," he called, getting the witch's attention, "where's Professor Lupin? I thought he was ill."
"Oh, he's in his office resting." Poppy had hesitated for just a split second before answering, but Icarus still noticed.
"All right," he said, slightly suspicious. Why couldn't Lupin be resting in the hospital wing? He found it a bit odd, and considered about questioning Poppy further, but ultimately decided against it. He continued to wash the sheets.
It was nearly four in the morning when Icarus finished his detention. He said goodbye to Poppy and briefly wondered if the med witch ever slept before making his way back down to the Slytherin common room.
He sat down on his bed in the dormitory. He grabbed a piece of parchment, a quill and ink well, and his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. He wasn't tired, and even if he was, he didn't want to fall asleep only to have to wake up a few hours later. Instead, he decided to work on the essay Snape had assigned them.
As he worked on the essay, he kept on yawning, which made it difficult for him to see because he was holding his wand that was illuminating the things in front of him between his teeth. He also started to nod off once or twice, but he was able to catch himself before he fell alseep completely. All right, so maybe he was a little tired, but he was too stubborn to fall asleep.
He worked until the sun's rays made the surface of the Black Lake shimmer and he was finished with the essay.
He put the parchment, quill, ink well, and textbook back into the trunk at the foot of his bed. He flopped back, his head hitting the pillow and he closed his eyes.