CHAPTER EIGHT
The students return in a trickle, then a flood.
It's an all-consuming rush of sound. The corridors fill with chatter and laughter; stories of their time over the holidays, gossip about upcoming quidditch matches and rumors about the upcoming exams.
"We just got back, Doug," Nathaniel groans, slumping across the end of Icarus' bed, "give it another couple of weeks before you start freaking out. Please."
Douglas scowls, the tips of his ears turning pink.
"We've got no idea what they're going to test us on," he protests, "what if-"
"What if's never help anyone," Nathaniel says, "we're not gonna find out what the exams are based around until, like, Easter – and I doubt they'll include anything we haven't been taught. Right, Icarus?"
"Mm-hmm."
"What're you reading, anyway? Anything good?"
Icarus shrugs – then yelps as the book is snatched from his lap.
"Animagi?" Nathaniel asks, rolling to hold the book out in the air as Icarus tries to tackle it from him, "What's that?"
"Nothing you'd be able to wrap your pea-sized brain around," Icarus snaps, "give."
"Guys, seriously," Douglas says, exasperated, "Ma's gonna kill me if I don't pass them."
"Vhy don't you try extra credit," Sergei suggests, watching as Icarus and Nathaniel tumble off the bed after dropping the book, "exams are only, vot, thirty percent of your grade?"
Nathaniel's knee connects with Icarus' stomach.
"So, you don't have any control what you turn into?" he asks, somehow reading the pages upside down, "Knowing you, it'd be some kind of fish."
"Who d'you think I should ask?" Douglas asks Sergei, watching them too, "Professor Flitwick?"
"Eh – Professor Karim vould be a safer bet, no?"
"And you," Icarus grunts, managing to wrestle Nathaniel into a headlock, "wouldn't even be able to keep your mouth shut for five minutes –"
"Wanna fuckin' bet?!"
Sergei summons the book to him with a flick of his wand. There's a short, startled silence as he reads through the couple of pages covering the subject of animagi.
"Twenty sickles," he declares, "ten minutes."
"You're a bit-"
…
Nathaniel wins an amazing sum of fifty-four sickles purely from spite.
And Icarus – Icarus learns that chocolate does not mix well with the taste of mandrake leaf.
"What's the matter?" Severus asks, watching him through narrowed eyes from the ebony desk, "Are you sick?"
"What?" he swallows his bite of cake and tries not to gag, "No. I'm fine."
In a matter of seconds, his father crosses the room and sets a cool hand on his forehead. He bats it away.
"Da-"
"I don't get it. You love chocolate," Severus says, "it's only sweet thing you – what's that smell?"
Icarus shovels two heaping spoonfuls into his mouth and chews.
"See?" he says around it, "Perfe' fine. No' sick. Uh-uh."
Severus' gaze narrows further, somehow, his lips twisting into a grimace.
"I know that smell," he says, "Icarus, what're you messing around with now?"
Somehow, between swallowing the food in his mouth and trying to come with...well, something...Severus figures it out.
"You," he says, setting his hands on the arms of the chair and effectively trapping him, "are treading on very dangerous ground. Tell me why I shouldn't rip that fucking mandrake leaf out of your mouth."
Icarus mind fills with static. He shrinks into the cushions and offers a weak smile.
"For...the...pursuit of knowledge?"
…
His breath forms a cloud, the tips of his fingers feel like they're about to fall off, and he tries to remember why he's helping his son with his most recent fixation.
Perhaps fixation isn't the right word.
Reckless endangerment, he supposes. Exposure to cold, late February winds.
With a sigh, he kneels to collect the little patch of snowdrops on the eastern side of the grounds, his shadow stark against the silver light of the moon. They're the first of the season, best for healing and spell enhancement potions.
There aren't many of them, so it doesn't take long, but as he shifts to rise from the ground, the moon vanishes.
He freezes, magic expanding from his body in a silent wave, searching for the cause.
It finds...something.
Something cold and endlessly hungry and -
It's gone. The moon reappears as if nothing had happened and his stomach churns.
He attempts another, silent search before reeling his magic back in and packing the rest of his items to take back to the school. It's hardly a surprise when he steps into the building that another pair of footsteps join his own.
"Severus," Karim says, his voice unusually tight, "I trust your night is going well?"
"Well enough."
They walk in silence for a while. Long enough for him to notice the white and gold robes the other man's wearing. The ring around his right thumb.
"I found two of your students outside," Karim sighs, finally, "first years."
"Oh?"
"I sent them back to the common room, of course. Detention will be on Friday."
He hums some sort of noncommittal response as they step out into the Astronomy courtyard. There's a few clouds in the sky, now, but its still freezing.
"Don't you want to know what they were doing?"
"Getting up to no good, most likely," he murmurs, "I'm sure you dealt with the situation appropriately."
"They don't seem the sort to keep to curfew," Karim chuckles fondly, some of the tension in his shoulders unraveling, "I hope I won't be seeing them in my office too often."
"Are you suggesting they come to mine instead?"
It's a joke, really, a weak attempt at banter. It catches them both off guard.
He clears his throat and considers jumping off a bridge.
"The forest," Karim says, somehow catching the hint, "do you know much about what lives there?"
"Not particularly. Rubeus is the only one to go in there on a regular, and most of the written testimonies were lost in a fire years ago."
"...There aren't any copies?"
"There's literally only one book on the founding of Hogwarts," Severus huffs, "I wouldn't say record-keeping is our cultural strong suit."
"No," Karim says, "British wizards have always been more focused on oral traditions."
Severus bites back a snort. Tries to remind himself he's not a child.
"If you're trying to figure out what that...thing was," he says instead, "I have absolutely no idea. I've never experienced anything like it. And you're not going to go looking for it."
"Why not?" Karim pushes the door open so they can back inside, "The safety of the students is our priority, is it not? Shouldn't we figure out if -"
"You can't keep anyone safe by turning up dead," Severus snaps, "and you should know better than to face anything that feels like that without a plan."
There's a long moment of silence. He glances over to find Karim frowning at his shoes.
"You know…" Karim says, "there are other ways to say you care."
"Oh, fuck off."