Icarus Syndrome

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Beta: The brilliant bcandii

I will take this time to warn everyone that this is obviously AU and will not follow the canon plot after fifth year. Sixth and forward has not occurred. You have been warned.

Thank you, dear readers, for the hits, reviews, alerts and favorites. An author loves to know their work is appreciated.

-X-

The silence that settled between them wasn't uncomfortable. Harry was tempted to say that this was about the most comfortable he'd been yet with the Slytherin. Draco had apparently decided that since the conversation was over, he no longer needed to play host to the intrusive Gryffindor. Harry didn't mind being ignored for once, simply relishing the silence and the fact he wasn't being prodded at and worried over.

He chose instead to study the blond. Draco seemed very relaxed compared to other people he knew would be panicking about this curse ordeal. Instead, the blond seemed to take it in stride, accepting it and moving on. It couldn't be that simple. Maybe he was truly torn, but being the Slytherin git that he was he refused to show it. Harry frowned as he stared at Draco's face, watching his eyes scan the page and the small facial quirks as he read.

“Draco?” He said as softly as possible. He watched the boy detach himself from the story and meet his gaze.

“Yes, Potter?” He sat primly, as if he were in the library or class instead of a hospital bed. Harry gave a mental smile at seeing the blond acting all prim with no audience to benefit from such an act.

“What are you reading?” He watched the surprise flit across his face and then settle into curiosity.

“Why do you care?”

“I don't. Not really. You just seem to...enjoy it.”

“It's ancient myths. It's fairly amusing what most people believed about the past and the gods and goddesses of old.” He flipped through the book and turned it to show Harry an artist's rendering of the Greek pantheon. Harry noted with amusement that they were all arguing and fighting with each other, except the few preening or drinking. “There are all types of stories about the heroes of old as well. I believe some would even put you to shame, Savior.”

“Ah, but none of them would be half as gorgeous.” He said lightly sarcastic. Silver eyes flashed as he rolled his eyes.

“Are you kidding, Potter? Does this look like a man to be ignored?” Draco opened the book again with a flourish and Harry's eyes widened at the sight of the fierce man astride a flying horse. He had a spear in one hand and was battling some twisted beast from the horse's back. The artist had to have taken more than a few liberties. “Or maybe this man?” He flipped through quickly and found another man locked in combat, armed with winged sandals, a shining shield and sword. He was fighting some snake-haired witch of a woman and succeeded in beheading her as the picture reset. Harry felt his eyes unconsciously travel over the exceedingly fit body covered in armor and began to wonder why those cute short robes that showed off so much leg fell out of fashion.

“I suppose...you may have...at least one...point.” He conceded, forcing his eyes away only to meet smug grey. “But those guys are dead now, anyway. And the artist has clearly blew the whole thing out of proportion.”

“But what a...nice proportion it is.” Draco sighed, eyes hungrily fixed on the last man's picture. “I just wish he'd gotten that short hem up a little shorter and give us a peek.” He muttered wistfully. Harry barely choked backed the scandalized outcry as he realized something. Draco seemed to realize it too as the blood rushed out of his face.

“You're bent?!”

“Shh!” He looked around frantically, as if they were in the Great Hall instead of a secluded Hospital Ward. “Oh Merlin. You can't say anything, Potter! I'm dead enough as it is!”

“That's why you were disowned, wasn't it? It was I bet because Lucius isn't known for tolerance.” Harry hissed, quickly putting things together. Draco seemed to grow even more distressed, scrambling on the bed as Harry rose from the chair.

“Potter! Please! Oh Merlin! I never said that! You're jumping to conclusions! And don't talk about my father!”

“But it's true! Lucius is nothing but a two-faced basta-”

“No!” The voice was angry enough and Harry abruptly found himself with a furious Draco covering his mouth with his hand. “Shut up about my father. He helped your side, didn't he? At great risk to not only himself, but to all those captured Order members if he was caught freeing them. He was a great man and you will not disrespect him!”

“How can you defend him after he did this to you?” Harry asked, angry and confused, but with Draco so close and obviously weak his anger was taken out of his sails.

“He's my father, Potter. I know you never knew yours, but wasn't Black close enough? Lupin even? If they did horrible things, even awful and evil things, but they loved you so much, wouldn't you still love them? I love my father, Potter. Not the man who raised his hand to slaughter people.”

“They are one and the same. You can't just ignore that part of a person!”

“I didn't ignore it!” He shouted, swaying on his feet. He wasn't supposed to be moving about, Harry berated himself as he herded the boy back to the bed. Draco seemed oblivious to his efforts and instead concentrated on his argument. “I can't help but love him. He's not the person you think, Potter. It's like a mask on a mask. It's just a part that isn't the whole. I've never known that part of my father until the battle. He could get angry, but he never once acted like...that...toward me.”

“Never punished you? Never knocked you around to give you character?” Harry bit out, remembering Vernon's excuses for the occasional blow.

“He is my father, Potter.” Draco maintained. “Children in the pureblood families are both tools and children. If you were raised pureblood, you would understand. He's never struck me as my father.”

“But-”

“As my Lord and Patriarch of the Malfoy family, he has struck Draco Malfoy, Heir and Scion of the Malfoy Blood.” Draco looked at him and his expression immediately silenced Harry's arguments. “I'm not saying that any of this is acceptable, Potter. I can't believe he would...Just because I'm...There are a number of potions that enable...He's never...” But Draco seemed to lose himself in his mind and Harry realized that Draco wasn't as calm about the curse as he was to be believed.

“Draco.” He grabbed the book and handed it over to the boy. “Would you read me one of those stories?”

He looked surprised, as if he couldn't believe that Harry was asking something so outrageously childish. He stared at the book in his hands and then Harry's face. He looked sad and determined, but Draco ignored that in favor of trying to discover why he was here of all the places to be in the castle. Surely, there were better things to do before class rolled around again. He didn't see any of the pity or regret that he expected. He had no idea why the boy was here, but it gave him something else to focus on. He refused to get stuck in depression and to get hung up on this curse.

“Very well, Potter. I'll read you a story. Don't interrupt me and I won't stop.” He warned and then opened the book, seemingly at random. He smiled as he looked over the story and began to read, “Once upon a time the deep red berries of the mulberry tree were as white as snow. The change in color came about strangely and sadly. The death of two young lovers was the cause. Pyramus and Thisbe, he the most beautiful youth and she the loveliest maiden of all the East, lived in Babylon, in houses so close together that one wall was common to both...” (1)
Harry sat on the edge of the bed, watching pale pink lips move but mostly listening to the entrancing voice as it pulled him deep into a story of young love.

-X-

Ron groaned as he grabbed another stack of books to re-shelve. Hermione's little search had turned into a full-blown hunt and there were more books scattering the surface of her table than in the adjoining shelves. If he didn't stack them up, they'd be in worse trouble if Madam Pince caught them. Breakfast had blown by and he'd already had to sneak in food, and they'd missed at least two and a half classes so far. Lunch would be soon, he thought as he stacked books back into the Wizarding Genealogy shelves. Luckily, he'd succeeded with that invisibility spell, even if it was temporary.

“I found it!” Her triumphant cry echoed through the library and the scandalized librarian's scolding barely made her lower her volume at all. “It's known as Icarus Syndrome, after it's incantation, “cado amo icarus ut vestri nex pro meus dedecus” which translated means, 'fall like Icarus to your death for my shame'. It was created by a man in the 13th century named Athelstan Bronson. He supposedly created the spell after discovering that his eldest son was betraying his people to an invading clan. It is designed to use the innate family magic that comes from passing blood, meaning only another blood family member could enact the curse.”

“Which is why Dumbledore thinks his dad did it.” Ron interrupted. Hermione glared at him before nodding and continuing.

“The caster specifies a series of memories and intones the spell. The victim's body has a pattern of wings cut into the skin. The lines are where the magic is channeled when the curse is enacted. At dawn the day after the curse, the victim experiences the sensation of wings growing from his or her back and then is caught in the magic of the curse. It forces the victim to relive the chosen set of memories and then fall into a metaphorical ocean at moments when the victim either speaks of the memory or tries to kill himself. The ocean is also chosen by the caster, being someone the caster feels will either hate the victim or vice versa.

It was fairly popular after it's creation and was used to discipline straying family. It fell out of use after the 16th century for no apparent reason. It doesn't have a listed counter-curse and is only just barely not on the Unforgivable list. It drives the victim to insanity by making them relive the memories and by knowing that it is an unbreakable cycle that will continue until either the death of the victim or the ocean. Victims have been driven insane, lost their lives by their own hands or murdered. There have been no known survivors of the curse.”

She set the book back down and met Ron's pale face over the table.

“His father really did it then? Cursed him to get driven barmy or to die.” She nodded.

“But...Why Harry?”

“I don't know. Maybe Lucius thought they still hated each other.” She whispered. Something felt odd about this entire thing. Why would it be Harry? He was too good and noble to slaughter someone. Why would Lucius even choose Harry Potter?

-X-

“I do believe this has broken some type of record, Ms. Granger.”

“Thank you, Headmaster.” She blushed and clutched the book tighter to her chest. “What are we going to do about Draco Black, though?”

“Ah. I don't believe there is much left we can do. Except perhaps, be prepared for many incidents like this morning.” He sighed, eyes not as bright, but glimmering sadly.

“But...it feels like giving up.” She said softly, seeing Ron nod faintly off to her side.

“I know, Ms. Granger. But sometimes, the only option left to us is to merely accept terrible things and not allow them to overcoming us. How a person survives through hardships and against insurmountable odds reveals their true character.” He sat back and looked between them. “I believe Harry is still in the Hospital Wing with Madam Pomfrey. Draco's private room should be nearby if you would rather take what you've found to him and break the news.”

“I think we'll do that, Headmaster, sir.” He watched as they vanished out the office and down the staircase. He glanced over to Fawkes, seeing the bird flutter from his perch to his shoulder. He felt the bird's comfortable weight, and brought up a hand to smooth his crest.

“I truly wish the Lucius had chosen another curse, but I do believe that he only had what he thought was his son's best in mind. Draco would have been torn apart if any scandal had implicated him with prejudice and intolerance so high now.” Fawkes made a noise of protest he was quick to soothe. “I'm not saying he made the wisest choice. The Icarus Curse can only work though, if the caster feels both love and betrayal.”

Fawkes sighed and shuffled, but remained on his shoulder as he drew parchment and a quill to him. Lucius would have no choice to listen to this. Hopefully, this would reach him before his Potions Master decided to take things in his own hands.

(1) This is a direct quote from the book Mythology: Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes by Edith Hamilton, a Mentor Book from the New American Library, copyright renewed in 1969 by Dorian Fielding Reid. All rights reserved by Little, Brown & Company. It is the tale of Pyramus and Thisbe by Ovid pg. 101-103.