James knows something is wrong when he wakes to the sounds of birds outside. It's hot in his room - the sun, filtering through the windows, seems to suggest that it's way, way past morning. He lies there, some of Scorpius's hair in his mouth, and he tries his best to spit it out silently as he stares up at the ceiling with a feeling of utter and sincere terror. His chest tightens. No one has woken him up. Al hasn't come looking for Scorpius. The house is silent- why? Had someone come in, seen them- were they having a family meeting, trying to determine what they were going to do with this, do with him?

The rush of fear that hits him is almost enough to make him dizzy.

He stares down at Scorpius, eyes bleary and red-rimmed from sleep and hangover, before he tries to pull himself out of the bed as silently as possible. If he's able to get out of it without waking Scorpius up, he'll be trying to investigate the silence of his house as quietly as humanly possible.