CHAPTER NINE
"There's no point sulking about it," Douglas grumbles, slamming his trunk shut, "it's not like he's the one that got cursed."
"Doug," Nathan snaps, "shut up."
"But -"
"Нет, Ублюдок," Sergei says, rustling past Icarus' bed, "enough."
Douglas tries to say something again but there's a thud and a yelp and the sound of the door opening. There's a sigh and the green curtain separating him from the rest of the world opens enough for Nathan to pop his head through.
"You don't have to come," he says, "we all know Slytherin's winning the House Cup again and I don't mind sneaking some food from the kitchen."
Icarus looks over at him, before sighing and moving to climb off the bed.
"Don't bother," he mutters, reaching for his robes, "I'll come."
The Great Hall is already packed by the time they arrive, decorated in the Slytherin colors of green and silver. A huge banner hangs behind the staff table, the serpent on it baring its fangs. Fen's group of fifth years cheer as he passes by; he doesn't react. In fact, he hardly notices. He barely pays attention to Dumbeldore's speech either, and the noise from the Slytherin table when they win the Cup makes him feel ill.
At the end, he waits for most the table to leave before he starts to make his way out of the Great Hall.
He's stopped from going back down to the dungeon by a hand landing on his shoulder.
"Professor," he says, startled, "I thought you left."
Professor Karim manages a strained smile. He looks tired.
"Not yet," he says, "I still have a few things to take care of."
He studies Icarus for a moment, before dropping his hand.
"Do you mind if we have a word?"
Icarus follows him out into the courtyard. It'd rained recently and the smell of it floats on the air, warm and inviting.
"You haven't been sleeping recently, have you?" Professor Karim asks, leaning against a balcony ledge overlooking the forest.
Icarus shakes his head. There's no point in lying - it's probably obvious on his face.
"I spoke to the centaurs when I went to search the forest," Professor Karim says, "they were the ones who found her, you know. I understand you're familiar with one called Firenze?"
"Yeah," he says, "him and Hagrid are good friends."
"They've heard of the creature you encountered. According to them, it's haunted the forest since the school was founded. They believe that it was once a human, who delved too far into the Dark magic." He shifts uncomfortably and crosses his arms, "There have been students, in the past - hundreds of years, mind - who have been lured by it into the forest. You, I think, are the first to survive."
A shiver crawls down Icarus' back. The creature's laugh rings hollow in his ears.
"Be careful, Icarus," Professor Karim says quietly, "if you must go into the forest, please do not do so alone. And, with what happened to Miss Sylvester," he hesitates, "understand that it wasn't your fault."
It was. Of course it was. It always is.
"Right."
"Icarus."
"I know it wasn't, Professor. I wasn't even with her."
"That's not what I mean and you know it," Professor Karim says, his voice hard, "Icarus, it'll take time, but promise me you'll still allow yourself to trust people. To make friends."
Icarus nods, without meeting his gaze.
After a moment, when Professor Karim realizes he won't get any more of a response, he straightens and brushes off his robes.
"I suppose this is goodbye, then."
Icarus swallows. Nods again.
Professor Karim pats his shoulder as he walks past, heading for the door back into the castle.
"Professor," he calls, finally, "I hope she gets better. Your mother."
Professor Karim manages another tired smile. His left cheek dimples.
"Thank you, Icarus."
…
The school's silence presses against his ears.
All of the students had left earlier in the morning to catch the train and Miffy had apparated all of his belongings back home, so he was left waiting for his father to wrap up the last of his paperwork so they could follow.
He sits cross-legged by the clock-tower courtyards fountain, chewing on a bite of apple and watching the clouds drift lazily across the sky.
"Icarus."
Dumbledore approaches him with his hands clasped behind his back, his turquoise robes not really matching his maroon-rimmed glasses.
"Professor," he greets, gaze following a floof of white resembling a pygmy puff.
"Miss. Sylvester is awake," Dumbledore says, "I've been told she's asking after you."
"Oh."
Dumbledore waits for a moment.
"I know how to get to the hospital wing, Professor," Icarus says, taking another bite of his apple, "I don't need an escort."
"I would hope not," Dumbledore says, "but as I am going in a similar direction, I did hope you wouldn't mind walking with me."
Icarus finally tears his gaze away from the sky. He stands, and stretches, and walks off. Dumbledore follows a few steps behind.
"So?" Icarus asks, after a while, "What is it you want to tell me now?"
"Do you really find it so hard to believe I only wished for company?"
He casts a dubious glance back at the man.
"Everything I would have told you was, I'm sure, said by Professor Karim," Dumbledore says calmly, "I have nothing more to add."
They reach the bottom of the faculty tower, and, after wishing Icarus a happy summer, Dumbledore walks off down the opposite corridor.
Icarus climbs up the stairs to the hospital wing and stares at the massive doors for a very long time, before pushing one of them open and slipping inside. Arianna, propped up on at least two pillows, looks over from the book she's reading and beams.
He's not exactly sure what he'd been expecting - something drastic, probably - but she looks pretty much the same, aside from being a little thinner and a little more tired. Then he takes a seat in the chair by her bedside, meets her eyes, and - oh.
"You've been sulking, haven't you?" she asks, her gaze unfocused and slightly faded, "And don't lie. I can see it on your face."
He tries to respond. He can't.
Her smile slips.
"The holidays started already, haven't they?" she tries, "How come you haven't left yet?"
"I'm - I'm waiting for them to set up the Floo," he says, "one of the teacher's is dropping me off at home."
"Really? They're allowed to do that?"
"Yeah."
"Do you have any plans, then? I heard Cedric's going somewhere in Switzerland, and two of the girls in my dorm planned a trip to the Isle of -" she looks away from him, down at her book, "I'm rambling again. Sorry."
"It's ok."
"You hate it when I ramble."
"I don't."
"Yes, you do," she says, fussing with her bottom lip, "you don't say it, but you do."
He sighs.
"I don't," he says again.
Her eyes fill with tears. He looks away as she reaches up to wipe at her face.
"I don't think I'll be able to come back next year," she says quietly, after a while, "Madam Pomfrey says I have to be transferred to St. Mungo's. She says the core of my magic was damaged and it might take a really long time to heal."
"Oh," the air seems to escape from his lungs, "ok."
"You'll write, won't you?"
"I-" he swallows. Nods. "Yeah. 'Course."
He leaves almost an hour later, walking down the stairs to reach his fathers room. Severus is waiting for him by the fireplace, dressed in a black shirt and trousers, glamor down.
"Ready?" he asks.
...
NOTES:
Нет, Ублюдок = no, you son of a bitch