Invented Icharus
Chapter One

On a somewhat cloudy Tuesday, September the first, the Hogwarts Express blew its final whistle and began pulling out of the station towards Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Weasleys had arrived just in time, as usual, and had been the last to board. This left the two youngest Weasleys out of breath and gulping for air as they searched for compartments with room in them.

Ron had quickly squeezed into a compartment with Neville, Harry, and Hermione, but with all their animals in there as well, Ginny knew she’d never fit too. So, she walked unsteadily down the corridor of the lurching train, hoping that some of the compartments in the back might have room.

At the second to last compartment she knocked and peeped in, she saw Luna Lovegood and Michael Corner sitting inside, talking casually. Upon hearing the door slide open both turned to see the identity of the person responsible. Luna’s face lit up as soon as she realized it was Ginny.

“Ah, Ginny, such a long time has it been. So many wonderful things to tell you I do about the adventures of summer.”

Ginny quirked an eyebrow at Luna’s new speech pattern but she quickly regained her composure and smiled a hello to her and sat down. Michael, on the other hand, stared daggers at her and met her with an icy “Good day”.

Ginny heaved a great sigh in his direction and began to talk to Luna about her summer.

Michael has no reason to be angry with me. It wasn’t as if I didn’t apologize to him she thought distractedly.

She had sent him an owl months ago saying that she didn’t really like him in that way anymore, and for Merlin’s sake, he should have moved on by now, didn’t he like Cho or someone? But he continued to stare at her as if she was Proserpine herself, Ice Queen of the Underworld.

After sitting there for an hour, Ginny couldn’t stand his glaring any longer and excused herself from the compartment, saying she was going in search of the food trolley and some peace she added silently as she slid the door closed. She thought for a second about going to visit Ron and everyone but quickly dismissed the idea. The trio had spent the last two weeks of holidays at the Burrow and she’d had her fill of whispers and looks from them to fill her quota for the year.

“It’s not as if I’m still eleven!” she said as she confronted them in the orchard one day. Ginny remembered Harry’s kind but misguided words.

“We know you’re not Ginny, but we still feel the need to protect you, keep a watch out for you. I can’t forget about how you looked so powerless in the Chamber of Secrets all those years ago... er.. it still gives me nightmares!”

“Well, that makes two of us, Harry!” Ginny retorted “But I’m a big girl now, I can bloody well look after myself!” With that said, she stomped off, leaving the Trio standing there with their mouths agape. Strangely enough, they had gotten the picture, and tried to downplay their concern for the rest of the holidays.

Ginny shook her head of the recollection and headed to the last compartment, hoping that the lack of noise coming from it meant that it was empty. She didn’t bother knocking when she came to the door, and instead, kept her fingers crossed and slid the door wide.

Draco Malfoy was sitting in his school robes with his feet propped up on the seat across from him, reading a book with extreme concentration. He hadn’t noticed Ginny open the door and step into the compartment.

Ginny assessed the situation.

Well, she figured as long as he stays quiet and doesn’t bother me, it’ll be ten times more bearable then Evil Eyes Corner in the other compartment. Ginny quietly closed the door behind her and sat down as far away from Malfoy as possible. She then gratefully closed her eyes and listened as the dull rhythm of the train rocked her to sleep.

Malfoy had been deep in thought about magical theory when Ginny had entered the compartment. In fact, an entire half hour had passed since and he still hadn’t noticed. Although, that soon changed as he completed his chapter. He looked up in shock at the person dozing across from him.

“You lost Weasel?” Malfoy sneered “Saint Potter and Big Brother sick of you following them around already?”

Ginny cracked her eyes open. “Oh, sod off Malfoy” she said offhandedly to him. Malfoy quirked an eyebrow questioning this strange show of bravery, or perhaps, foolishness from this little pixie of a girl.

“Excuse me, I think I misheard you, this is my compartment Weasley; nice, quiet and the best feature, before you came in: distraction free.” Her expression flickered at him, taking in the smirk plastered on his face. There was a slight look of annoyance there as well, along with tired shadows underneath his eyes. She judged that this solitary boy with his lap covered in a large text was in no mood for a fight with her, her experience with six older brothers had taught her how to assess her opponent correctly and this time, she decided to chance it. Staring directly at him she spoke.

“Look Malfoy, I’ll make you a deal, I won’t bother you, you don’t bother me, all right? This is the only quiet compartment left and I intend on staying here. Frankly, I don’t care where in all of Hades realm you plan to go. But I. Am. Staying. Here.”

Malfoy was about to retort when the door slid open to reveal the lunch trolley, it distracted both of the arguing students momentarily. After they had both bought some snacks, with Malfoy casually making sarcastic comments about how long it must have taken her family to save up for that one chocolate frog, the door was closed and they sat back in silence, munching on their treats.

Malfoy used the time to appraise the young woman sitting across from him. He casually looked her up and down and then turned his gaze towards the window, where the Scottish countryside was rolling by.

Well, he thought to himself and sighed mentally, he could have to put up with a lot worse, at least it’s not that whore Pansy, or those morons Crabbe and Goyle. Ugh, he shivered she’s certainly better looking than them any day. As long as she’s quiet.. he shrugged mentally. I’m not in the mood to argue anyway, the meeting at Gringotts this morning was far too taxing, greedy little buggers.

“Fine” he decided, “stay if you want, but keep quiet” he said, his face entirely void of expression.

“Good, I will then.” Ginny remarked.

“Oh, just shut your gob,” Malfoy muttered as he once again took up his book and immersed himself in it.

“Oh, sod off,” Ginny mumbled back, closing her eyes, content on napping all the way to Hogwarts.

Another school year had begun.

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Author's etc.: This story is completed, so I'll try to upload chapters as quickly as possible, oh, and don't forget to review!

Note to Cabal: Hope the new formatting works, in my preview it looks fine. Copied it over from plain text on notepad. thanks again, -sweetp

Icharus Invented
Chapter Two: Running

...two big city kids lost in a perfect world, of egotistic boys and lying little girls. And she knows, but she fakes it, that she’s doin’ okay....

An upbeat punk rock song abruptly ended Draco’s dream.

It had been a good one too, there had been these two gorgeous Veela, a desert island, chocol...er.. never mind.

The music from Draco’s charmed alarm clock had woken him at the usual 6:30 am on Monday morning, three weeks into the beginning of term at Hogwarts. Draco shook the sleep out of his head and rolled out of his sleek, queen size bed. He left the music on, enjoying the sounds of the only alternative WWN station on air.

It really is nice to still have my own room he thought as he slogged across the plush area rug to his walnut and ebony inlaid dresser to get his running togs.

Draco had had his own room here since second year. It was probably the only thing he could still thank Lucius for these days. His father had decided that he had wanted his son to stop ‘slumming it’. A Malfoy should not have to share a room, let alone with people so decidedly lower than himself, it just looked bad. So, all it took were a few strategic ‘donations’ to the Library, the Hospital Wing etc. and Draco was the owner of a small suite of rooms and back to living in the style Malfoys were accustomed to.

Recently, Malfoy the Younger had begun to view the importance of his wealth differently than Malfoy Senior. Money could only get you so much and so far, as exemplified by Lucius’ present predicament, but Draco did like the perks that money could provide.

In fact, he thought, smirking to himself money couldn’t buy happiness, but at least I can park my yacht next to it. He sighed sadly at the terrible accuracy of the comment.

Draco tied his last trainer lace and was about to head out the door but stopped to give himself a glance in the mirror.

If Father ever saw me like this, he probably reserve a nice padded room in St. Mungo’s for me, that, or curse the shit out of me. Yeah, that’s far more likely. But what do you expect, one can’t run in robes..

Draco shook his head and smirked at his reflection. Draco was wearing a black t-shirt, which he had ripped the sleeves off of, liking how it showed off his biceps, across it’s front, in large gothic script was the name of one of his favourite wizarding bands “Tortured”, although he also appreciated the irony of the label for himself. His shorts were black cargo shorts, (guaranteed to last 100 years, with bottomless pockets!) albeit a bit too baggy for running but he had absolutely refused to wear those nylon spandex contraptions he saw in the Magic Outdoors (for all your magical sporting needs!) Having his bare lower legs exposed to the eyes of the early risers of the student body was quite enough, he didn’t want to send any girls into a frenzy. He had cobbled together his running attire from a number of different designers, aiming to look polished, yet edgy. He had an image to portray, and spandex shorts were not involved.

Draco grabbed his dark green swacket and headed out of his room through the back entrance and into a seldom-used dungeon corridor.

The door to his room from the corridor was charmed to his voice, making it an extremely secure and private entrance, even if someone discovered his password, it wouldn’t open unless Draco himself, spoke it.

He made his way from there out through the empty corridors to the front doors of the school, where he exited and started jogging to warm up his muscles for his run ahead.

Draco had started running during the beginning of last summer. First, he had run to escape, just to get out of the Manor and clear his mind of all the chaos that had been waiting for him after he stepped off the train.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Draco had made his way home by himself, as there had been no one waiting for him at the train station, not even a House Elf. He opened the large black oak front doors to find his house in terrible ruin, furniture thrown and splintered, papers strewn about and an eerie silence looming over it all.

The mess must be from the Auror raids when Lucius was caught, but I wonder why it hasn’t been cleaned up by now.. he thought as he continued into the Manor.

As a precaution, Draco had taken out his wand as he slowly climbed the grand staircase, keeping his eyes open. Down at the end of the East Wing he could see light coming from underneath one of the doors.

“Mother?” he questioned calmly.

No answer.

He drew closer to the door and called again. Only the silence met him. He slid his hand to the burnished silver knob and opened the door. His mother was sitting straight up in a wing chair in front of the dying fire. She looked like a shadow of her former self, once a beautiful prize wife, Narcissa was now an emaciated and dishevelled wretch without Lucius to ‘look’ after her.

She said nothing as Draco entered the room.

“Mother” he queried, trying to get her attention.

He raised one eyebrow at her present state, and saw her clutching the broken splinters of Lucius’ wand, a piece of parchment lay on her lap. It appeared that his father’s trial had finished, and the results were as expected.

“He’s never coming back Mother.” Draco said stonily “Of that, I can assure you.” He turned abruptly and stalked out of the room, turning towards his mother’s blank face before he exited.

“Good riddance to bad rubbish” he spat and continued on his way to his own suite of rooms in the West Wing to assess the damage there.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - --

The duration of the holiday had been anything but to Draco. His summer had been spent putting the Manor to rights, finding someone to look after his catatonic mother. As well as dealing with business matters that now rested solely on his young shoulders all because of Lucius’ prolonged indisposition. He also co-operated with the Ministry whenever possible, though on a personal level he loathed dimwitted Fudge and his sycophants, he attempted to get on, at least, amicable terms with them.

Basically, he spent the summer striving to resurrect the Malfoy name after Lucius’ monumental Fuck Up, as he had started calling his father’s capture and imprisonment in Azkaban. Lucius had dragged the Malfoy name through the mud so thoroughly that it took all of Draco’s energy and cunning to clean it up.

It was proving to be a more difficult task then he could have ever imagined.

Death Eaters, and Voldemort sympathizers had no sympathy for anyone clumsy enough to get caught, therefore they made it as difficult as they could for Draco when he tried to settle his father’s business entanglements with any of them. Draco had to constantly watch his back for curses and hexes from pissed off Death Eaters as he managed his business affairs throughout the Wizarding World.

Speaking of the rest of the Wizarding World, they were just as bad as the Death Eaters themselves, they treated him with disdain and hatred because of what his father had done.

Like father, like son, mark my words, was the stupid expression that raised his ire everywhere he went on business.

And so, he had started running, at first, only to quiet the hammering assault of demands required of him and then he ran to give himself time to plan for his own future, now so wonderfully separated from Lucius’. He was looking forward to this future, one where he would be powerful enough to evoke the respect of Muggle-Lover, Death-Eater and all those in between.

The first step he decided would be to study, knowledge is the only kind of real power. So he began to educate himself in the most difficult forms of magic. And from this, his journey to shape his own life began that summer, buried in books and running miles through the leafy green of the English countryside.


Draco sprinted the last 500 metres as he drifted out of his reverie. Walking back to the castle he caught his breath and made his way back to his room. Anyone passing by this Malfoy, would have been startled by his appearance, even after three weeks of this as his daily routine. The other early rising students had a hard time fitting this Malfoy into their pre- conceived stereotype. This Malfoy was rumpled and sweaty, walking calmly, rather than strutting, down the corridors. If one was very observant, and seldom were when it came to Draco Malfoy, they would have noticed that his normally pale ivory complexion had gained a decidedly rosy tint, and that his eyes, rather than being cold narrow slits of grey, were brighter, glinting with a hidden sense of purpose.

--
Malfoy emerged from his room twenty minutes later looking like his immaculate former self; showered, shaved and polished. Though Draco had a new outlook, he believed that there was no reason why everyone else should be privy to it. At least not yet, not until he was assured he would succeed. So he acted towards the other inhabitants of Hogwarts as he always had, with cruelty, malice and laughter. It was easy for Draco to slip that mask on, everyone either feared him or ridiculed him for what his father had done. So he acted like they expected him to, just like his father had taught him.

As he walked to breakfast, his face shifted into its usual bored and arrogant expression, ready to face the hatred, but beyond his expression, behind the stormy eyes, his mind was roiling, planning, and though he refused to believe it: dreaming.

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A/N: swacket: a conglomeration of sweater and jacket, meant to describe a hooded sweatshirt that opens down the front via a zipper. Not sure if this really is a slang word, or just exists in my strange family...

Disclaimer: I don’t own HP, just the plot.

Chapter Three: I Spy


Ginny sighed as she scrubbed the last desktop in the Potions classroom. She had been scrubbing sticky orange goo off all the desks for the last three hours.

‘That is the last time I ever stick up for Luna’ she thought as she duly wrung out the rag in the stone sink.

It really wasn’t fair. Luna had been carefully measuring lacewings into her cauldron when a Slytherin from the other side of the room launched a mortwood beetle eye across the class and it landed, as luck would have it, with a splash into Luna’s cauldron.

Ginny had been her partner in the class since the beginning of the year because that year a record low amount of fifth year students were enrolled in Potions. It had been decided, for efficiency's sake, that all four houses would be put together in one class.

The mortwood beetle eye had caused the potion in Luna’s cauldron to bubble vigorously and then suddenly explode in one giant splosh covering everyone and everything in orange muck. Snape had been quick to slink over and snap at Luna. Ginny, jumped up to her defense, loudly blaming the Slytherins, then silently hit herself for being such a loudmouth Gryffindor hero. One of her goals this year was to really focus on thinking before speaking. Snape, always quick to capitalize on a Weasley in distress, had quickly left Luna and stalked over to her.

“Now, now Miss Weasley, telling tales is not rewarded in this class, this is not Divination, is it? In fact, I believe I shall have to correct that behavior of yours.”

With a few mumbled words and a flick of his wand, Snape made the mess disappear. He then looked at Ginny.

“Don’t worry, Miss. Weasley,” he sneered, “it will be brought back tonight when your detention will be to clean it all up, no magic allowed.” Snape finished with an evil grin appearing on his sallow face.

At eleven'o'clock, Ginny had finally finished her detention. Completely exhausted, with one last groan, she threw her scrub brush and rag into the bucket full of dirty cleaning water, eager to get away.

She sighed in anguish as the water splashed back upon her robes.

“Great” she mumbled to herself, “absolutely fab, this day can’t possibly get any worse.”

Her normal cheery disposition had gone, replaced by a decidedly frayed Weasley temper. With the room spotless and the bucket and rags finally put away, Ginny strode to the door and peeped out cautiously, despite her mood. She was still wary enough to not want to get caught by Filch or Mrs. Norris on her way back to the Tower, after all it was far past curfew.

Ending up with a detention for being in detention would really end the day with a bang. Ginny decided that the safest way to get to her common room would be to go the back way: through the dungeons.

Longer, yes, darker, most certainly, but far less frequented by most students and teachers. She, herself, had only found the route when she took a wrong turn back in third year as she was searching for the kitchens.

Her feet made no noise as she carefully crept along the stone corridor and deeper into the dungeons. She slunk along the wall, which allowed her easy access to hiding spots behind statues or in disused classrooms should someone come along. She desperately wanted nothing more than to get up to her room and collapse in her big four-poster.

All of a sudden, a sound whispered through the corridor.

She stopped dead in her tracks, quickly looking up and down the hallway.

‘Nope’ she thought to herself, ‘must be in one of the rooms along here, oh Zeus, I hope it isn’t Peeves, I’d be so dead, if he caught me, he’d wake the castle and then I'd be in for it.’

Ginny slowly walked closer to the door where she thought the noise was coming from.

‘It doesn’t sound like Peeves, that’s for sure,’ she reflected, as she listened to a smooth, medium timbre voice mumbling quietly inside. It sounded strangely familiar to Ginny in a way, but she couldn’t quite identify the speaker.

‘And, logically,’ she thought, ‘why would I know someone who is hiding down in the dungeons in the middle of the night?’

It just didn’t make sense, but something other then logic was tugging at her insides, recognizing the voice.

“Well,” she finally said to herself, “I’ll just take a little peek and settle this. From what it sounds like, the person attached to that voice is concentrating far too hard to even notice me.”

And with that, Ginny and her Gryffindor courage, cautiously, millimetre by millimetre, widened the gap between the door and the jamb. Her eyes widened with shock at what she saw.

Within the classroom paced a slightly disheveled Draco Malfoy. His hair, so carefully slicked back had fallen into his face, and he distractedly kept pushing it aside. His robes were open, revealing an un-tucked white oxford shirt and a loosened tie.

He was murmuring to himself, so softly that Ginny couldn’t quite make out the words, though she was sure it was some kind of incantation. Abruptly, he stopped pacing and talking. Ginny thought she was caught.

‘Sweet Proserpina! Now how am I going to get out of this!’ she pondered, when suddenly Malfoy stepped up to two huge tomes on a table, scanning one page quickly, his eyes lit on what he was searching for, and he grabbed up a small dragonhide covered journal and a quill and began noting it down. This would have been the perfect time for Ginny to slowly back away, but she just couldn’t do it. Ginny was far too curious.

“What in all of Hades' realm is that prat up to now?” she wondered quietly.

It had to be Dark Magic, couldn’t it? He certainly didn’t look like he was practicing Cheering Charms with that serious look on his face. The again, she had never actually seen him smile... maybe that was his happy face?

‘But what about his wand?’ she thought quickly, ‘it isn’t in his hand nor anywhere in sight. Hmm, very peculiar.’

Just when Ginny thought things couldn’t get any stranger, they did.

She was now staring at Malfoy with eyes as wide as teacup saucers.

‘Is he doing what I think he’s doing? He can’t be, he’s such a ..a...a.. PRAT.’

Her thoughts slowed to a stop as she continued to watch the magic that Malfoy was concentrating so hard on performing. After a couple of minutes, Malfoy stopped and turned back to his journal to make more notes. This snapped Ginny back into reality and she unwillingly urged herself back into stealthily walking back to Gryffindor Tower, leaving Malfoy completely unaware that his secret was no longer safe.

After finally making it back to the empty common room, she fell into the couch in front of the fire, tired but with plenty to think about.

The fire crackled merrily as she stared into the flames, trying to sort out what she had seen.

Well, firstly, it was obviously something Malfoy wanted to keep secret. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be practicing alone, in an abandoned classroom and certainly not down a corridor no one knows about..

Secondly, it was bloody brilliant!

Ginny didn’t know that Malfoy had it in him to take on something this monumental. It was one of the most difficult things a witch or wizard could do, and not only that, he was teaching himself. Frankly, she was envious.

‘Imagine,’ she thought suddenly, ‘having that power within my reach. I would never feel helpless or insignificant again...’ She shuddered at the thought and continued to stare into the flames.

Slowly, a feral grin spread across her face.

She had a plan.

A plan wherein she would learn this powerful magic from a most reluctant teacher. Tomorrow she would implement the first step.

And with that, she climbed up to her dorm, crawled into her covers and was fast asleep in seconds.


~*~