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The first time Scorpius saw snow he was three years old and absolutely perplexed.
He couldn’t figure out what on Earth was going on, or rather what was on the Earth itself. He stuck his tiny little fingers into the powder that was even whiter than his skin, and immediately brought his hand back again, shocked by the stinging cold.
“Here Scorpy, try these.” His mother, Astoria, had bent down and gently stretched two tiny gloves over Scorpius’ tiny hands. He moved them around, getting used to the feeling, then hesitantly touched the snow.
He felt nothing.
And it was magical.
From that one touch on, Scorpius was in love.
He spent the rest of the morning, afternoon, and almost the night (had it not been for his dad scooping him up in his warm arms after Scorp had made his tenth snow angel) playing in the snow. The soundtrack was his laugh mixing with his mother’s, and the feeling was of his father’s gently guiding hands and the crunch of the snow under his boots.
It was the best day of his life.
The second time Scorpius saw snow he was twelve and completely emotionless.
He was standing next two his father, both of them drenched in black and staring at a newly dug plot in the cemetery. They hadn’t known that it would snow that day, but as the first flakes began to fall around them, slowly burying the brown dirt with it, Scorpius felt the irony of the whole moment. The best day of his life had been in snow, and now the worst day of his life was too. He wanted to cry, to feel his tears freeze on his cheeks to match the feeling in his chest, but he just couldn’t.
He didn’t think his mom would want him to cry anyway.
Instead, he pretended the snow didn’t exist, brushing it away before it could melt into his suit jacket.
He also pretended he didn’t exist too.
His didn’t exist for so long that it took the cold, firm hand of his father to bring him back to the white coated Earth.
He had never felt so cold in his life.
The third time Scorpius saw snow he was seventeen and utterly unamused.
He was sitting on his Slytherin bed and staring out at the depths of the frozen lake. He wanted to just pretend it was a regular Sunday afternoon, but his best friend and secret love wasn’t having it.
“Oh c’mon Scorp, it will be fun!” Albus pulled at one of his lanky arms, “we haven’t seen snow in years.”
Scorpius dropped his head, ignoring the warmth that shot throw his arm and into Al’s like he normally did.
Years.
Sensing the shift, Albus warmth left him and he looked up at the green eyed boy.
“I know it...I know it’s hard, Scorpius. But I think you need this.” Al’s voice was low and rich and sincere. Scorp wouldn’t have been surprised if it had melted some of the snow outside.
He was going to do it.
He was going to do it for Albus.
“Fine, but not for long, my coat is not nearly long enough, and my gloves have holes-” he rambled, putting on the unsatisfactory clothing items as Albus chuckled at him.
“Scorp! We won’t be out for long, you won’t even feel the cold, trust me.”
Albus always said to trust him, and every time Scorpius did he ended up in some kind of trouble.
He really should stop trusting him.
And when he stepped out in the snow that coated the grounds of Hogwarts, the thought crossed his mind again. This time, he did want to cry as he stared into the white void of ground and thought of his mum. He felt the tears prickle on his eyes, mixing with the flakes on his lashes.
Then-
“Scorpius!”
Scorp looked up and suddenly he was three again.
The same wonder that had filled him that day returned as he stared at his best friend. His best friend who was throwing snow up in the air like he was in a snowglobe. His best friend whose caramel face became crimson with the cold. His best friend whose smile rivaled the snow, and whose laugh filled Scorpius’ ears just like his mother’s had. His best friend who looked hopelessly gorgeous and entirely perfect in a fluffy, white frame.
His best friend who was looking at him like it was the best day of his life.
That’s when he began to cry, not because he was sad about his mother, but because suddenly the cold that had encased his heart for five years was thawing all because of the boy in front of him.
And that’s when he realized he was ready.
He didn’t have time to feel the crunch of the snow under his shoes, or even the wind that whistled through the holes in his gloves. By the time he made it to Albus, he was breathless and his heart was beating hot and fast.
“Albus.” He breathed, not able to hide the emotion in his eyes or his face.
Al looked up at him, his smile fading before it adjusted to a soft curve. He gave him a nod, and Scorpius wondered how long Albus had known.
But that didn’t matter anymore, just like the cold didn’t.
All that mattered was the moment their lips met and all the moments that would come after.
And they were magical.