Work Text:
An ambitious bludger forced them to end the causal practice session early. Scorpius shakily pulled himself to his feet in the snow as Albus landed in a sprint over to his friend, peppering him with questions of, ‘You alright?’ and, ‘Should I get your dad?’
“Darling, I’m fine,” cajoled Scorpius, straightening and stretching with poorly feigned ease. Albus failed to miss the term of endearment, though he succeeded in not hexing him for lying. He dug their brooms out of the snow and they trotted back to the manor. Attempting to to match the blond for affected nonchalance:
“Since when am I ‘darling?’”
Scorpius’ gait faltered briefly before recovering. A smile overtook his face.
“Of course you’re ‘darling,” daaah-lin’!” he sang, bumping shoulders with his friend. Albus snorted and nudged him back, starting a leaning war that ended abruptly when a push made Scorpius stumble and cry out. Swearing softly, Albus steadied the Slytherin Chaser on his feet.
“I knew you weren’t fine! Merlin, Scorpius, why didn’t you tell me?” the young Potter groused as they resumed the trek back at a slower pace. No longer bothering to hide a slight limp, Scorpius snorted, sending a puff of moisture into the chilly air.
“If you knew, why'd you ask?”
“Ugh, never mind. Keep your bloody stubbornness for the Quidditch pitch.”
They walked in silence until they reached the entrance to the manor’s rear gardens. Passing under a wrought-iron arch covered in white, Scorpius softly bumped his shoulder against Albus once more.
“M’alright.” Albus grinned.
“I know. Darling.”
One gloved hand grasped another, and the two made their way through the garden, muted by winter. Pausing on the threshold, Scorpius tilted his face down to peck Albus on the cheek.
“Let’s get inside before Father sends out a search party.”
Albus shivered.
He shivered from the cold.
He shivered in delight at the somewhat recent, still novel, development in their friendship.
He shivered at the picture his bringing back an injured Scorpius would paint for Mr. Malfoy
Epilogue:
In their enthusiasm for snuggling on the couch in front of the fire, the boys forget to go back for the Quidditch balls left out in the field. The next morning, Draco awakes to a bludger shattering heirloom statues in the garden. He sends a letter addressed to Harry with Albus when he floos home that day. It’s a bill.