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It had been a long, lazy stretch of summer so far. James knew he had to work on getting a job soon - there were spots at the Ministry, positions his dad had been nudging him into looking after for a few weeks or so now. But it was his last summer, the last time he'd get to spend time off with Albus and Lily, so the job hunt hadn't been pressing. That'll change in the fall, Harry had warned, and that had been perfectly alright with James: he was looking forward to getting his own flat and escaping from the house as quickly as he could.

"Hey," he greets, opening the door to Albus's room without so much as a knock, "grab your broom, I thought we might go flying-"

When his eyes land on Scorpius's face, the words die on his tongue.

"-what are you doing here?"

Never has there been a more accusing sentence in the English language.

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"Do us both a favor and don't read into things," James spits, and his own face is suddenly very, very hot. He splashes some water at him in a gesture of irritation, his shoulders stiff and uncomfortable, before he starts heading to the shoreline with a frown. Passing him, but trying to keep a distance as he did. "I'm going back to the house." It's an embarrassed growl, but he suddenly doesn't want to be there anymore. Dumb. This is dumb. He wasn't sure why his stomach was in knots - he wasn't the one who went around flinging himself everywhere, he justifies to himself.

Scorpius freezes where he is, half-expecting James to march to him and slug him. When he just walks by, Scorpius is seized by another insane impulse and reaches out.

"Hey."

He grabs the bend in James's elbow, fingers slick on eve slicker skin.

"I'm sorry. Okay? Really."

His face flares with heat again, and he wrenches back, expression wracked with something like panic when he feels the touch on his arm. "Fine," he means to snarl, but it comes out a lot unsteadier than intended. "You're sorry, it's fine, I don't care, I'm just- done hanging out. That's all."

Now, at least, he isn't moving again.

Scorpius's fingers fall away immediately at the jerk, but... Merlin if he doesn't know that tone of voice. That fight. Scorpius had spent the better part of his teens resisting temptations. Like trying to hold another boy's hand in first year. Trying to climb into a dorm-mate's bed the next. Then, kissing, hugging, anything he could get without ruining things, which was more than often the result.

He'd felt so alienated. And he got the unsettling feeling that James might understand.

"I won't stop you, but..." Scorpius drew a little closer tentatively. He was really pressing his luck tonight. "...are you sure?" He lifts the same wet hand that had tried to hold James back; this time, it touches James's jaw.

James's eyes cut away, his expression going sour, but he doesn't smack Scorpius's hand away. No - it's warm against his damp and rapidly cooling skin, and he shuts his eyes, as if a silent decision to not look at him while they talk.

"This is- some sort of joke." His tone is hard, but also - confused. Why would he be acting like this? He'd punched him not so long ago at school. His hands flex uncomfortably at his sides, his breathing still shallow. "Or a prank. But it's not funny."

"I didn't do it to be funny," Scorpius murmurs, drawing a little closer still. James hasn't pulled away from his touch, and it's... Merlin, it's nice. The sound of the water moving between them as Scorpius walks in close is thunderous in his ears, despite how slow and carefully he's moving. He hopes that alone doesn't frighten James away.

"Honest. No prank."

His thumb sweeps under James's mouth, skimming his lower lip.

He doesn't know why this is as nice as it is. Scorpius Malfoy, the boy he couldn't stand from the family he couldn't stand -- why was he allowing this to even happen? This was obviously going to be used as some sort of blackmail, some sort of leverage against him. 'The Potter boy dragged me into a pond and tried to snog me, did you hear, I can prove it...'

James indulges just for a moment, reaching up to catch Scorpius's hand against his face, and he kisses the pad of his thumb as it moves across his lip. God, if he doesn't want this, suddenly and selfishly.

His eyes finally open and he shakes his head hard, steeling his gaze and curling his lip into an expression meant to imitate disgust.

"You stay away from me, you- horrid little snake."

And then he backs up hard, sweeping his arm to splash at him again, before beating a hasty retreat to his broom. He won't wait for him this time-- he simply throws his leg over and shoots toward the direction of the house.

When James arrives home, Harry is there, making a very rare appearance for lunch. With Ginny out of the house, he has to cook for himself, but that's never been an issue, since he spent the better part of his childhood cooking for the Dursleys and is probably better at it than Ginny (though don't tell her he said that).

Catching sight of James, Harry lifts both brows. "...Don't tell me. You had a fight with the pond, and the pond won."

Dad humor. Yep.

His dad's voice snaps him out of whatever thought he's currently stewing in, and Harry will probably recognize that full-body way that he jumps. It's guilt, pure and wracking guilt, and he shoots his father a look that seems suggests both panic and outrage at the same time.

"I shoved the Malfoy brat into the pond and he dragged me with him," he seethes. The broom ride home has dried him out a little, but disgusting pond water is beginning to drip down his cheek now. "Not my fault."

That jump is far more telling than the venom pouring out of his son's mouth. Sometimes, Harry worries that his eldest son got far too much of his parents' quick tempers and far too little of their patience. He's always the first one to jump into something and regret it later. Sometimes violently.

"Not your fault," Harry muses, abandoning his pot at the stove in favor of turning to look at his son. "You shoved Scorpius Malfoy in our pond. And it's not your fault he dragged you in with him?"

"You got it in one," James is quick to answer. He's ducking around, clearly looking for something to snack on and not making eye contact with Harry. "I was trying to play nice and show him around since Al's off with Mum, but really, Da, he's a Malfoy, what do you really expect? He took any excuse he could to rile me up. I'm gonna shower, what are you cooking? Enough to share, I hope."

James almost sounds like Ron when he jumps to stupid conclusions like that. It irks Harry, but, well, he loves his son to death. Even when he's being ridiculously immature.

Reaching out, Harry hooks his grip into James's soggy collar and yanks him back.

"Oi. I expect you to show him the same courtesy you'd show anyone who's a friend of Al's or Lily's." Harry knew he'd done the lecture enough times, but it really just didn't seem to sink in with this one. "If he does something you don't like, walk away. Come to me or Mum. But don't push things." As he knows James has a tendency to do.

"Hey!" He yelps, surprised when Harry got ahold of his collar like that, but he doesn't struggle. That only tended to make things worse. "I'm not- oh, fine, but you won't hear a peep out of me, I'm just going to let him be and not bother with trying to pretend to make nice, alright? Better than lying about it, isn't it?"

No, he'd be avoiding him for different reasons entirely. But Harry didn't necessarily need to know that.

"May I please shower now? I'm disgusting."

With a frown, Harry releases his son and nods his chin towards the hallway, giving permission. "I'll definitely agree with you there," he says, grinning a little. It's fine by him if his son adopts the cliche of 'if you don't have anything nice to say', but it still leaves him a little curious as to what happened.

Speaking of, he glances out the door. "Does Scorpius know how to get back?"

"... it's a straight shot, Da. He shouldn't have any problems getting back to the house. He's probably just sulking." James lingers by the door, frowning at that. "We can send Al out to fetch him if he's not back by sundown, right?"

Except there was a little twist of worry, once that he wouldn't let himself voice.

"I suppose so," Harry muses, still looking at the door. It's clear he's thinking he's going to have to head out and make sure Scorpius is okay. More because he's sure Draco Malfoy would have his head if any hair on his son's head was out of place when he got back home.

"Go clean up."

"....yeah. I'll be down later." James glances at the door again, almost antsy for a moment, before he disappears upstairs for the longest, hottest shower he can stand. When he gets out, the first thing he'll do is try to find anyone else who might be in the house - Harry or Scorpius or anyone - to check on the younger boy without making it obvious that he is. Wherever he goes, he'll put up the impression that he's looking for something else.

In the living room, James will find both Harry and Scorpius. They're talking, with Harry's back to the entry where James will come in. Scorpius has a big, awed look on his face. His clothes are still sopping and his hair's a right mess, but he looks at ease. Not as if he and Harry had been discussing what happened out at the pond, anyway.

When his eyes catch James's, his smile disappears. Harry pauses, too, and turns, smiling at James.

"Finished in the bath?" Harry nods to Scorpius. "Go on."

Scorpius nods. "Thanks, Mr. Potter." And that's all he says. He avoids eye contact with James and hurries past him and up the stairs to grab a shower for himself.

Harry puts away whatever he'd been showing Scorpius and gestures to the kitchen. "There's some stew left, if you're hungry."

James doesn't really let himself catch Scorpius's eyes; there's something like guilt that flashes in his expression, but he hardens it, tucking his hands into his pockets.

He paces forward, chewing on his lip as he lingers in front of his father instead of heading straightaway to the kitchen.

"What were you guys talking about, anyway?"

"He was curious about a case I'd worked," Harry said, shrugging. "Nothing terribly exciting, I'm afraid."

Reaching out, Harry's hand ruffled his son's damp hair. "Think I can leave the two of you in the house alone for a while? Or do I need to Fire Call Aunt Hermione to babysit?"

"Da," he whined as if he weren't an eighteen year old man, swatting his father's hand away. "Don't call Aunt Hermione, I've got it. I'll go to my room and leave him be, okay? I'll see you at dinner tonight."

"I'm going to be late again. Let Mum know for me?" Because Harry didn't fancy having to tell her himself. If James had a fiery temper, he had nothing on Ginny.

Heading for his cloak, Harry gave James one last lingering stare. "And James. Remember what we talked about."

If Harry came home to a half burnt down house just because he trusted his son to leave Malfoy alone, that would all be on him.

James shoots him a look, eyebrows raised, that seems to suggest he knows exactly what he's doing. Throwing him right into the line of fire, huh? Well - maybe he deserves it, he figures, and scrubs his fingers through his still damp hair.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm good, you can trust me. Be safe. Love you." Shaking his head, he turns and heads into the kitchen, after some of the leftover food. Maybe he could eat and retreat into his bedroom before Scorpius finished showering.

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couldn't resist ;3

LAUGHS you are wonderful

you mean insane, but yes xD

Same thing!

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