CHAPTER FIVE
Nathan's laughter bounces through the corridors and turns a dozen heads.
"It's not funny," Icarus insists, shoving four struggling broomsticks back into their closet, "and you're not helping."
"I really didn't mean it," Douglas says again, from the floor.
"She knows you're no good with heights," Icarus says, going over to pick up the last of the brooms, "I don't understand - Nathaniel!"
Nathan hiccups and tries to stop laughing. It doesn't work.
"It could've been worse," Margaret offers, patting Douglas on the head, "you could've crashed into the Whomping Willow."
…
The weather turns quickly.
By the end of October, even Icarus convinces himself to stay within the corridors of the school, to avoid the endless downpour of rain. He spends his time between lessons wandering, in the library, or in his father's office.
And despite the size of the place, the inability to go outside starts to grate on his nerves.
"The offer still stands," Severus says, after listening to him complain for the hundredth time.
"Homework isn't going to help," Icarus snaps back, "and unless you've suddenly come up with some-"
He blinks, brain connecting with something he'd only skimmed past, before scrambling from where he was hanging upside down on the chair.
"Where are you going now?" Severus sighs.
"Library!" Icarus calls back, grabbing his bag and running out of the office.
Hours later, probably around dinnertime, Nathaniel drags him out of a massive pile of books and down to the Great Hall. Someone - several someones - had decorated it for Halloween, with ginormous jack-o-lanterns crowding the corners and thousands of enchanted bats squeaking overhead.
"I was busy," he complains.
"The books will be there after dinner," Nathan says with a roll of his eyes, "sit down. Be social. Eat."
"What are you, my mother?"
"Might as well be."
…
This dream is different.
He's in a forest. The forest? He can't tell. The path in front of him splits in two.
To his right, if he squints through the trees, he can make out a lake, or an ocean. To his left lie only shadows.
So, like maybe anyone in his situation, he goes down the path to water.
The trees, crowded though they are, clear suddenly, and open to a pebbled lakeside. A waning moon shines down, dim and low in the sky. The water laps at his feet.
It takes him a moment to realize why that's so wrong.
He scrambles back but the water only rises and soon he's swimming, struggling to stay afloat, and something is wrapping around his ankle - seaweed, maybe - a hand -
"Mine."
His head collides with something hard.
"Ow!"
He blinks stars from the edges of his vision and presses a hand to his forehead.
"Fuck, that hurt," Nathan hisses, clutching his nose.
"What-"
"You were havin' a nightmare," Nathan grumbles quietly, "Jesus, I 'ink you broke my nose."
"No, I -"
Nathaniel lifts his hand from his face, and even in the dim light, Icarus can tell that he very much did break his nose.
He sighs and reaches for his wand.
"Sit down."
Nathaniel perches on the edge of his bed and eyes him suspiciously.
"Episkey."
"Ow."
"Shut up," Icarus hisses, kicking him.
"It hurt," Nathan hisses back, "what're you going around breaking people's noses for anyway?"
"You're not supposed to wake someone in the middle of a nightmare, idiot."
"Well, sorry for -"
"Vhat're you two arguing about?" Sergei asks, pulling the other curtain aside with a yawn, "It's three in the morning."
On the other side of the room, Douglas snorts in his sleep and turns over.
…
"An' what d'yeh think yeh're doin'?"
He peeks down at the angry half-giant below him and then back up at the nest.
"Trying not to fall?" he offers weakly, as the first few snowflakes flutter down to melt on his cheek.
Hagrid huffs and pokes the branch Icarus is on with his crossbow.
"Get down," he says, "before I have ter have words with Professor Snape."
Icarus weighs his response quickly and chooses the lesser of the two evils.
"Aderyn," he blurts, pointing up, "there, I think. Let me get it first."
"A wha'?"
But he's already scrambling the rest of the way up the tree to peek over the side of the nest. It's relatively big and recently abandoned. One of the eggs had hatched the night before and the chick lay frozen above the feathers.
The other shivers and squeaks feebly.
"Oh, hello," he breathes, "look at you."
He adjusts himself carefully and reaches out. The little thing burrows itself into the warmth of his hand.
"Onid ydych chi'n un od?" he asks, picking it up carefully and settling it into his chest pocket, "Where'd you're mum go, eh?"
It shivers against his chest as he makes his way back down to the scowling groundskeeper.
"There was a bird," he says, sitting on the last branch and eyeing the large dog cautiously, "I've been watching her for a while now. She left the nest."
Hagrid's scowl softens slightly.
"Fancy yerself a bit of a greenhand d'yeh?"
Icarus stares at him for a moment, the implication lost. Then -
"Excuse me?"
"Well -" Hagrid says, "I only meant -"
"I don't care what you meant," Icarus snarls, "as a member of staff, you should know better than to stereotype your students."
Hagrid gapes for a moment, then flushes.
"D'yeh - er - need help gettin' down?" he asks, eventually.
Icarus looks down at the forest floor. The little bird in his pocket squeaks, and his ears burn.
"Uh," he says, "yeah. Probably."
Hagrid helps him down from the tree, nudging his dog away with a large foot, and leads him back to his hut. It's a small place, for someone so huge - only one room, with a bed tucked away in the corner and a table in the center.
"I imagine you'll be wanting somewhere warm ter keep 'im," Hagrid says quietly, putting a kettle above the blazing fire and bringing out two large mugs.
Icarus takes a seat and brings the chick out of his pocket. It's tiny and fluffy and white. Its breath weak and inconsistent. He draws it close and searches the meat hanging from the ceiling for something easy to tear apart.
"I'm pretty sure it's a girl," he tells Hagrid, reaching up for a kidney, "can I use this?"
...
NOTES
Aderyn = bird
Onid ydych chi'n un od = aren't you an odd one