I own none of these characters.

A/N: Thanks to my sister for beta-ing.

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Icarus
by MarbleGlove

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Dear Icarus,

After the publication of your paper co-authored with Lord Voldemort, the Ministry included your name on the list of Death Eaters to be tracked down and imprisoned. However, I can protect you. If you come to me at Hogwarts, I can guarantee your safety.

Given the state of Lord Voldemort's body when we retrieved it, it is clear that his body map was sabotaged in some way. A clear argument can be made that you are a hero rather than a criminal. It would be best, though, if it's made soon, at the height of the celebrations.

I look forward to meeting you face to face.

Your friend,

Albus Dumbledore

Order of Merlin, First Class
Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards
Headmaster of Hogwarts

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Hermione was alone in her room. But still the room seemed alive around her with the blazing fire and the resulting shadows that flickered across the walls. The crackling fire could almost have been talking to her. The night outside her window was still and quiet, and it seemed like her room was the only definite place in a world of desolation. It was a silly thought. In the morning, there would be people and places and activity and noise. If there were not, then the sacrifice she was currently making would be unnecessary.

She had betrayed the Dark Lord, arranging his death, and for that death she mourned. But it was quick and it was relatively painless. It had been over in a few minutes.

Now she was committing one more murder, and this one was neither quick nor painless. It would take weeks, months, maybe even years to be complete.

Now she was killing Icarus.

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Dear Icarus,

It has been some weeks since I have last heard from you. My offer of protection still stands. You may ask for it at any time.

Even if you decide to remain anonymous and hunted, I would like to continue our correspondence. The research you have done is quite groundbreaking, and I am interested in following what you are doing.

I know that Lord Voldemort acted as your primary mentor and guide, but now that he is gone I would like to offer myself in his place. I cannot imagine that someone with a mind like yours would not wish to continue on your path of discovery.

I look forward to your next letter.

Your friend,

Albus Dumbledore

Master of Transfiguration
Master of Alchemy
Master of Defense Against the Dark Arts
Headmaster of Hogwarts

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Icarus was dead.

Only three people knew this for certain so far: Hermione, Harry and Ron. Hermione had extracted wand oaths from both Harry and Ron to the effect that they would never tell anyone about Icarus, about Hermione's correspondence with the Dark Lord, or the curse that Hermione had created for Harry's use.

Hermione accepted that she had lost something of who she had once been when she had been unsatisfied with their simple promises to never betray her. She had demanded an unbreakable wand oath. Her friends had been hurt that she didn't trust their given word, and she had wanted to trust them so much. But that didn't change the fact that she did not. Hopefully by the time they forgave her, she would forgive herself.

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Dear Icarus,

It is as though you have fallen off the edge of the world. You are a great man and well respected, as well as feared. Every werewolf in Britain and Europe is in your debt, and every great pureblood family that contained a werewolf owes you their thanks. It is unnecessary cruelty to leave them uncertain as to where their debt lies.

Given them some sign of what you want in return. They will strive to give it to you.

Please, give some thought to ending their suspense.

Your friend,

Albus Dumbledore

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As time had gone by, and as the theories she had worked on had advanced and developed, her correspondences had expanded as well. She had routinely written to Dumbledore, but had also sporadically responded to other mail that she had received. Fan mail and hate mail and questions and gifts continued to come, but Hermione no longer responded to anything.

There was so much to feel guilty for that she felt overwhelmed by it, and in the end numbed to it. Nothing she did turned out the way she thought it would. Every letter she got, she read and it made her all the more certain that the only thing she could do now was to stop. She could not fix what she had done, she could not change it, she could not make it better. The only thing she could do was not make it worse.

She had finally reached too close to the sun and it had taken her a few days to realize that she had crashed. Her wings had finally failed her, and though she had survived the plummet back to the ground, she knew she would never fly again.

And Icarus was not Icarus without that ability, she was just Hermione.

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Dear Icarus,

I am concerned. I have heard nothing from you for several months now. Are you all right?

Please send me some sign that you are still alive.

Your worried correspondent,

Albus Dumbledore

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Now Hermione stayed up late into the night and slowly burned Icarus to death, one sheet of parchment at a time.

All of her correspondence, all of her notes, all of her thoughts. All her knowledge slowly crumpling and going up the chimney in little bright sparks. The fire was hot on her face, and she welcomed the burning sensation because it distracted from the wrenching of her heart.

It was sacrilegious to destroy knowledge, but that's what she was determined to do.

It could not be done completely. Surely the Dark Lord had kept his notes and his half of their correspondence somewhere, and surely Dumbledore had done the same. But for her part, it was over. It was done.

As the sun rose, and light began to creep in through the window, the fire finally began to burn down. It had finished its task.

Icarus was dead and gone.

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Dear Icarus,

Please write to me.

Albus