volumetwo | (no subject)

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It's sometime after midnight when James stumbles into the house. The door shuts loudly and he turns quickly, shooting it a betrayed look. Whoops. Sure, he didn't have a curfew anymore, not since he'd finished school, but still: he couldn't see his mother being necessarily thrilled about this.

"Quiet," he murmurs, wand out for light - until he realizes he's not the only person in the living room. Confused, and obviously tipsy, he squints at Scorpius. Baffled. "--what're you doing up?"

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"... won't say this tomorrow, but-" He swallows hard, tugging him closer. "...doesn't mean nothing."

"Shh," Scorpius grumbles, cutting him off. He doesn't want to hear this kind of thing when James is still obviously drunk. He doesn't really want to hear it sober either, but at least then he could tell if the other boy was being truthful or not.

Tucking close to James, Scorpius's breath evens out. He should get up. Go back to Al's room. But... Well...

Staying is easier.

"No-" James shakes his head slightly at the grumble, his fingers flexing a little in Scorpius's shoulder. He needs to take his glasses off; they're smushed uncomfortably against Scorpius's hair, but it takes more effort to move than he's willing to expend right now. "No, I mean- I was lying earlier. It doesn't mean nothing."

Because it was too hard to say "it means something." That felt like it carried more implications.

James Potter will be the death of him.

Honestly.

On his tombstone, it's going to read: James Potter murdered him with sweet, stupid words and confusion.

Another sigh. Scorpius breathes in the scent of James, his eyes and limbs growing heavy, and then, almost just that quickly, he drifts off.

He'll cling to him all night, James thinks numbly. He can't imagine not clinging to him, right then - fingers pressed numbly into the other boy's arm, fit snugly against him. How am I supposed to sleep like this?

And then, just like that, he's out too, arms falling limp eventually, rolling off of him at some point. James will sleep a deep, heavy sleep, both from being out so late and from the liquor both, and it will be almost noon before he wakes.

The house is oddly quiet when James wakes. Too quiet, maybe. It's Saturday, and normally at this hour, there would be commotion. Harry and Ginny banging around in the kitchen, Al and Lily arguing about something or another, Teddy propping his feet on the table and Victoire demanding he take things more seriously. Maybe even Hugo and Rose adding their voices to the crowd, and Hermione and Ron arguing about Ron growing a beard.

But today? Nothing. Silence.

Just the sound of Scorpius Malfoy, breathing heavily, tucked in close to James with sleep lines all over his pale face from James's shirt.

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.

Scorpius hums in loss, but he doesn't quite wake. He'd been having trouble sleeping in the Potter house, but last night, that hadn't been much of a problem, and his sleep-deprived body wanted him to stay out for a few more minutes to catch up.

Outside the room, the house is empty. There's a half-finished breakfast on the table, leftovers on the stove. Nobody bothered to clean them up when they were done, it seemed.

There's a note hastily scribbled on the back of James's door if he manages to see it: Malfoy's gone. Went out looking. Owl if you see him. It's in Harry's writing. It looked like Al must have panicked when he'd woken without Scorpius in the room and they'd gone to search for him.

And he can't help it: the first reaction there is just relief, pure and absolutely. It's not great that the rest of the family is needlessly worried, but...

He heads to the table, scribbling out a quick note- (Malfoy's here, he's fine, come home) -before sending it off with his owl to wherever Albus might be. Grabbing two glasses of orange juice, he heads back to his room and seats himself on the edge of the bed.

It's tempting to wake him up with a kiss. He's fluffed, asleep, appealing, but he bites it back - focuses on the shame he'd felt minutes ago - and instead moves to shake him awake.

"Oi. Malfoy. Everyone thinks you're a runaway."

Shaken awake, Scorpius licks his dry lips and blinks blearily up at James. His first thought is: why the bloody hell am I waking to James touching me? but the memories of the previous evening soon filter through.

Drinking. Snogging. James's drunken apologies. Falling asleep in his arms.

Sitting up, he rubs his eyes, frowning. "Well, that's just wonderful." His voice is groggy with sleep, breath still heavy. He looks up at James dully, waiting for further explanation. Like why is the house so quiet? Not that he's complaining. It's nice to have a little calm in this madhouse.

"They're out looking for you now."

He passes the orange juice over, but he can't let his gaze linger on him - he has to look away, staring at the door, his shoulders set a little stiffly. "I owled 'em to let them know you're here, so they'll be back home soon. You'd better start thinking of an excuse."

James is left chewing on his lower lip, bouncing one leg restlessly.

"Better start thinking of an excuse."

Of all things to do, Scorpius snorts. He leans back, bracing one palm on James's mattress and letting his legs dangle off the edge of the bed. His bare foot lifts and nudges at James's shin.

"You mean, you don't want them to find me in your bed? Tousled and snogged?"

He lets the joke sink in a little before he breaks the silence by standing. The orange juice coming with him, he heads towards the door, into the hallway, to the kitchen.

"Don't ruin your knickers, Potter. I've done this a time or two."

He's not going to rat me out.

The realization comes with a rush of relief, and James pushes himself to his feet again. He holds up one hand, finger up in the classic gesture on hold on a second, before he drains the juice and puts the glass on his bedside table.

"Wait. C'mere, first."

"What?"

Scorpius is a little afraid of going back to James. What if the idiot's going to apologize again? Or worse, punch him? After all, they'd snogged. For a while. And Scorpius had nearly taken James's shirt off in his haste to get close to the other boy.

Tentatively, he steps back into the room, warily approaching.

He sees the wariness in Scorpius's face and he winces internally at that. Ugh. He's too hungover for moral guilt this soon after waking, especially with the way his head is starting to pound. James exhales, a shallow, uncomfortable little sound, before he reaches up to try to smooth Scorpius's hair down for him.

"You've got some lines on your face," he mumbles. "But you can tell them I came in utterly pissed and you fell asleep in here to make sure I didn't choke on my own vomit or something. Win you some brownie points with Al and Da both."

A scoff, now. Amused, though.

"I sleepwalk," he says, grinning. "No one has to know you were drunk. I sleep-walked in here, fell asleep on the floor. Explains the lines and why no one could find me." He shrugs. "I'm not new to telling a few fibs to get out of a tight spot, Potter."

His eyes cut up to his face, and he's a little surprised himself now. Curious, too, and legitimately so. "Do you really sleepwalk?"

Scorpius wants to pat James's head for that. Really. It's quite...cute.

"I've been known to, on occasion. How else would I explain winding up in my father's private library or passed out in the Hufflepuff dorms?" It had been one of his first major lies, and Al even thought it was true. So why not use it to his advantage now too?

He laughs, quirking a brow. "If I can make you believe me, I'm sure your dad'll be no problem."

"Clever," James mutters, but it comes with a roll of the eyes. He hesitates again - it looks like he's about to say something else, even as his hands drop and smooth against Scorpius's shoulders - but then he jumps like a startled cat, glancing out of the room fast.

"-- sorry. Thought I heard a door."

It'd be stupid to pretend he wasn't on edge.

Scorpius's grin fades as he feels James's hands smoothing down his shoulders. The comfort he takes from that.... It can't really be put into words. It's stupid, to get this emotionally invested in someone who obviously doesn't even know themselves well enough to be honest in their own heads, let alone to others. But it's hard to help, when James is nice to him and not bad at snogging to boot.

When James jumps back, Scorpius follows his gaze and sighs. He can hear talking down the hall.

"It's fine," he murmurs, slipping out of James's room.

Al's voice pierces the silence: "Scorpius!!!!!!" And then Scorpius is knocked back into the wall in a brash, rib-breaking hug. "What the bloody hell is the matter with you? Where were you?! Merlin, you idiot!!"

James startles a little when he recognizes the feeling in his throat: jealous. God, he's jealous, and over what? This is so stupid. Scorpius and Al are both still kids; he needs to get over this, to be the adult he is now.

It'll be a day or two later when James steps into the kitchen, heading to the table for the bowl of fruit, catching sight of Scorpius again. His gaze lingers for a second, but he tears it away quickly, pretending that it's not a little awkward to be sort of alone in the house with him again. (Mum and Lily were in the back in her room, working on something together. Al, however, had been grabbed by Teddy earlier that morning for something, but he'd promised to bring him back soon.)

"Going flying," he offers a little stiffly, still not looking at him. "Want to come again? Promise not to shove you in the pond this time."

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