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“It’s snowing,” says Scorpius, unnecessarily.
James, predictably, rolls his eyes. “You don’t say, Malfoy.”
“Yeah, but...”
Scorpius looks at the blizzard-like conditions. When the DMLE sent them here, there was no mention of snowstorms. The likelihood of either of them, good Aurors as they are, picking up a trace of the witch they’re supposed to be following in this is… small. Scorpius takes a look round, and notices that there are no people, no buildings, no – no nothing, in sight.
“Yeah,” James agrees, under his breath, as if it kills him to be agreeing with Scorpius. “Something’s fucked up.”
*
Two hours later, they’re frozen solid, have discovered they can’t Apparate, and are no nearer finding any solution. James grits his teeth and – to Scorpius’s bewilderment – pulls off his cloak.
“What…?”
“Shut up,” James says, his teeth clearly on the edge of chattering.
He pulls out his wand and frowns, concentrating hard. Scorpius is wise enough to leave him to it, and James begins to mutter something, then breaks off as a shiver takes over, and swears. He starts again, and this time the cloak transfigures itself into a small tent in front of Scorpius’s eyes.
“In here,” James says briefly, ducking down.
Scorpius follows, expecting a wizarding tent, and nearly falling into James’s lap as he enters the small space.
“What…?”
“Best I can do. If you can improve it...?”
James knows Scorpius won’t be able to, and Scorpius knows he does. Transfig was never Scorpius’s strong point. They put him with James because of their complementary skills: unlike Scorpius, James’s healing spells and potions work are poor. You’d never believe he and Albus were related.
Mind you, that goes for more than just that, Scorpius reflects, hastily moving himself as far away from James as possible – which isn’t far. He finds himself tucked up against James’s right side, awkward and self-conscious. James always seems to take up all the space in a room, even when it’s the size of the ballroom at Malfoy Manor. In a tiny tent, it’s stifling. Especially when Scorpius finds the man so damn attractive. He’s aware that James finds him, in return, a pain in the arse (and not a pleasant sort); annoyingly, this has never managed to quell Scorpius’s desire.
“It’s cosy,” Scorpius manages.
And yes, there’s the eye roll again. “Thanks for the sarcasm.”
“N-no, it...” Scorpius gives up. Possibly the only thing worse than James thinking he’s taking the piss is James realising that he isn’t..
James gives another shiver, and Scorpius realises that he’s without a cloak, now he’s transfigured it into the tent. The tent’s many things, but warm it is not, even with the warming charm that James is now muttering.
“Are you going to be okay?” Scorpius asks, more sharply than he intends.
“I’m flattered you care so much,” James says dryly.
“I’ll be looking after you if you catch pneumonia.” James shivers again, as if the very mention has made him cold. Scorpius sighs. “Here, share mine.”
He unbuttons his cloak and flings it round James, shuffling up close to him so that they are both inside it.
“Thanks,” says James gruffly, a sign of how cold he must be. No protest at all is unlike him.
“Welcome.”
Except he isn’t, because now Scorpius really is pressed up extremely close and personal with James Sirius Potter, and there is a faint pine-y smell coming from the other man. Scorpius finds himself sniffing, without realising he’s done it until James says,
“Sounds like you’re the one getting a cold.”
Scorpius flushes. Was he really just sniffing James? (Which yes, he was, and on the basis of that, he thinks it’s James’s shampoo that smells of pine; James’s cologne has a deeper, more sandalwood tone to it. Scorpius wishes his brain and olfactory senses would both shut up about the way James fucking Potter smells. Even though it’s really a very nice smell indeed. Very nice. Oh gods, brain, shut up!)
“Sorry, I… sorry.”
“Were you smelling me, Malfoy?” James asks, a note of amusement in his voice.
Scorpius begins to think that James can keep the cloak all to himself – he’s blushing so hard his entire body feels uncomfortably warm.
“Shut up.”
James smirks. “The least I can do is return the favour,” he retorts, leaning across and burying his nose in Scorpius’s neck.
It is cold, and Scorpius might possibly have squeaked a little bit at the feel. James takes a huge breath in… and then is pulling away, quickly, a mortified expression on his face.
“What?” Scorpius has to push down the urge to sniff himself, just to make sure he doesn’t smell really rank or something.
“Nothing,” James mumbles.
The awkwardness stretches between them as they sit there. Scorpius twists his wand and makes coloured patterns appear in the air for a while. James seems lost in his own train of thought – not a happy one, from the crease between his eyes. He repeats the warming spell after an hour or so, and Scorpius gives up on his pattern-making and sits in the same silence as James. He never notices when he falls asleep.
He notices waking up, however. James is curled up behind him, and he’s hard. Scorpius can feel James’s long erection pressed up against his arse, and fuck, it feels good, even through all of the layers of clothing between them. James is still asleep, but he is rocking his hips back and forth in an extremely suggestive fashion. Scorpius can feel himself getting harder, and his hand has slid down into his trousers to curl around his own cock before he’s really awake enough to realise what he’s doing. Flustered, he tries to slide away from James, but James grunts and wraps an arm firmly around Scorpius.
Scorpius makes another effort to get away, and this time only manages on making James rut into him with even more fervency… until that suddenly stops, and the arm around him tightens suddenly and lets go.
James is awake.
“Hello,” Scorpius says, weakly.
James slides back as if he’s been burned. “Fuck. Scorpius, I’m so… Fuck.”
It’s maybe the first time he’s ever called Scorpius by his first name, and Scorpius turns around to face him before it occurs to him what that might give away. His face is flushed and his hand is still stuck inside his trousers, for Merlin’s sake.
“Er...”
He snatches his hand away, but James has already seen. There is a sudden glimpse of light in James’s eyes.
“You...” James begins.
“Can we not?” Scorpius says hastily.
“What if I want to?” James asks, his voice husky. He is still staring at Scorpius. “What if I want to do more?”
“I don’t understand.”
James leans forwards and kisses him. They are in a tent, transfigured from James’s cloak, in the middle of god-knows-where, and James Sirius Potter has just kissed him for the first time.
They never find the witch. Scorpius thinks they might have found something better, instead.