CHAPTER TWO
Despite the fact he'd been dealing with children for the better part of a decade, Severus Snape still wants to kick his son's teeth in.
"Shut up," he hisses, "this was the best I could do."
It wasn't, and they both knew it, so when Icarus starts positively howling with laughter, he drops the trunk on the boy's foot.
"Ow, ow! Fuck! What the hell?!"
He raises a ginger eyebrow and smirks. It probably doesn't look as intimidating in the guise of an acne-ridden teenager but he can't find it in himself to care.
"You're lucky I was even able to get away," he says, as Icarus pulls his foot out from under it, "do you know how much work goes into the welcoming feast? Too much - that's what. It's the second most useless feast in the entire year and everyone acts like we don't have House-Elves to do any of it for us."
Icarus glares at him, dark eyelashes wet.
"It's not useless," he snaps, grabbing one side of the trunk to tug it towards a cart.
Severus winces, his satisfaction evaporating in an instant.
"That's not what I-" he picks up the other side and almost stumbles at the weight, "look, I sit through them every year, ok? They can be...long."
"Right."
They lug the trunk onto the cart and he follows Icarus into the station, searching for the words to correct his mistake. He's not quite sure how to find them.
"Are - are you nervous?" he asks, not entirely surprised when Icarus picks up the pace, "You don't need - You'll be fine. My mother's family attended Hogwarts for centuries, and you wouldn't have been sent a letter if -"
"What if it's like Ollivander's?" Icarus asks, coming to a sudden halt and turning to him, "And I just sit there like an idiot for ages?"
"There's nothing wrong with a Hatstall," Severus says, noticing vaguely that they'd stopped in front of the barrier, "Minerva was one. She's a perfectly capable witch. More than capable."
"Well, what if it just…doesn't choose? Like, at all?"
"That's never happened before, and it's not going to start with you," he says firmly, "trust me."
Icarus studies his face with wide blue eyes, before swallowing and nodding.
Of all the damn times to be wearing polyjuice potion.
"It will take your input," he adds, "if it's having a hard time making a decision."
"Really?"
"Really."
"So if I asked it to put me in Hufflepuff, would it -"
"Don't push your luck, brat," he huffs, shoving him forward, "come on, let's get you on the train."
…
"Severus," Minerva pants, ducking under a flying candelabra, "I've been looking for you everywhere. Where have you been?"
"I -" he glances at Peeves, "Albus sent me to-"
"Oh, of course he did," she says, shoulders slumping, "he never thinks. Look, could you go and help Filius with the decorations, please? The students are about to arrive and - PEEVES, WOULD YOU KNOCK IT OFF?!"
Peeves cackles loudly and zooms off in the direction of the entrance hall.
"I'm sorry, Severus, if I could find someone else, I would -" something catches her eye and she gasps, horrified, before bustling past him with a fountain of apologies pouring from her mouth.
He sighs, turning on his heel, and heads for the Great Hall.
"Ah, Severus!" Filius calls happily, when he steps through the large double doors, "Minerva was looking for you."
"She sent me to help with the decorations," he says, scanning the Hall with admiration, "but it seems you've done quite well without my assistance."
"Well, one compliment from you is better than none," Filius chuckles, "but I'm almost done. Perhaps Pomona might need help?"
"Any idea where she is?"
"Not a clue!" A ninety foot long table cloth shoots from the end of Filius' wand to cover the Gryffindor table.
He represses a groan and heads for the entrance hall, ducking under yet another flying projectile from Peeves. The sky is a deep violet when he steps outside and a thick mist has settled over the rolling meadows of the grounds. It'd be almost another hour before the first student walked into the castle.
"Is something troubling you, Sev?"
He blinks, startled, and finds himself in front of greenhouse three, Pomona watching him from an open window. When had -
"No," he coughs, "I was just…looking for you. Filius didn't need my help."
"Ah," she smiles and shakes her head, "the Elves kicked me out of the kitchen. Said I was too much of a distraction. I was just about to get cleaned up."
"Oh."
He frowns, looking down at the moisture that had collected on his shoes.
"Are you quite sure you're alright?" she asks.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Just making sure. I'll see you at the feast, yeah?"
He nods as she closes the window and heads back inside to go to one of the inner courtyards. It's a smaller one, towards the northern side of the castle, with a large ash tree growing in the middle. He plops down on a wooden bench and - after checking his surroundings - drops his glamor.
It's a funny piece of magic, the glamor; a similar feeling to sticking a pile of rubber on his face, like muggles do in movies. The breeze moves along his skin like a gentle embrace.
"You seem preoccupied," comes a voice from behind him, "I can only imagine as to what by."
Severus fights to keep his shoulders from slumping. Can't a moment outside ever not be interrupted?
"Can I help you?"
Albus Dumbledore rounds the corner and takes the seat next to him.
"He'll be fine," Dumbledore says softly, "more than fine, I think. He has a higher inclination towards magic than I've seen in…well, a long time."
"I'm aware."
"Hogwarts will be good for him. It'll provide -"
"Albus," he snaps, "I didn't ask for your input. Or your company."
He leans his head against a stone pillar, watching as the moon appears from behind a cloud, and waits for him to leave.
He does, eventually.