Hogwarts students were a week away from their end of year exams, and normally one could find said students studying hard somewhere within the castle. Or, at the very least, seeking shelter inside the stone walls from the cold and rainy Spring weather. One definitely would not suspect any of them to be traipsing around in the Forbidden Forest.

James McGraw–nicknamed Flint by his friends thanks to his fiery red hair–slowly walked through the forest with his gaze focused on the ground. His wand was out, the tip clouded in a ball of white light from a Lumos spell, and he paid extra attention to every stone he passed.

John Silver walked behind him, his dark curly hair pulled back into a bun at the base of his neck, and his wand, though out, was used to lazily turn stones over this way and that to get a better look at them. "Are you sure we haven't search this part of the floor before?" He asked gently, his voice smoother than warmed honey.

Flint grunted, but didn't stop to look at Silver as he replied, "I'm sure."

"Because I could have sworn we passed this particular moss covered boulder already." Looking up to see what Silver was talking about, Flint swore under his breath, letting Silver know that they had, in fact, been through this part of the forest. "Why don't we return to the castle, hmm?" He looked back at the school longingly before pulling his robes closer around his arms in an attempt to hold in his natural warmth. "We can try again later–preferably when the weather isn't so fucking cold."

"No," Flint all but snarled, returning to his search. "Go back if you want, but I'm not giving up on finding it."

Sighing, Silver tilted his head back to look at the sky and prayed silently to whatever deity was out there for patience. "The Resurrection Stone may not be out here at all, you know. Potter might not have even had it, and if he did then who's to say he'd just leave it in the fucking forest?"

"It's here, I know it is," Flint insisted, still refusing to look back at his classmate. "I need to find it."

"Look," Silver took a few steps closer. "Flint," he called out softly, placing a hand on his shoulder to force Flint to look at him. Silver's hand moved up until it was cupping the side of Flint's neck. "We'll find it, okay? We'll find it and sell it and become filthy rich, but–"

"I'm not selling it."

Silver blinked once. Twice. Thrice. Then, breathing in deeply, he asked, "Beg pardon?"

"The stone–I'm not going to sell it."

Silver frowned, "Then why the fuck are we out here right now?"

Flint said nothing, simply pulled away from Silver's grasp and began to search again. Silver watched his with narrowed eyes for several moments, trying to comprehend this new information and what it meant for them–what it meant for them. Then, with a sudden bout of clarity that was so sharp, Silver felt as if someone had just stabbed him with the Sword of Gryffindor, he hissed, "You're not fucking serious."

"What?" Flint asked, turning to look at him. Flint's eyes were narrowed, his gaze guarded, and his stance defensive. He knew what Silver's words had meant, he just didn't want to acknowledge it.

"This is about Thomas! This whole time," Silver cut himself off, then started again, "This whole time I thought," his voice cracked and he stopped a second time.

"Thought what?" Flint asked gruffly, taking several threatening steps towards Flint. "You thought what?" His upper lip curled back, barring his teeth as he got in Silver's face.

"God, James! I didn't think this was about grief!" Silver didn't take a step back, didn't break eye contact with Flint. He stood his ground and growled right back at him, "You know the stories about that thing–what it can do to you! It'll turn you mad! Thomas isn't worth–"

"Thomas is worth everything to me!" Flint shouted over him, desperate now. "You don't understand, John! Thomas was all I had. I can't–I can't just–" His eyes turned glassy, and though Silver knew Flint would never let those tears fall, this was the closest he'd ever seen him come to crying.

"And what about me?" Silver croaked, stepping impossibly closer to Flint so he could press their foreheads together. "Don't I matter?"

Flint reared back, almost as if he'd been burned, "All you wanted was the cash," he sneered. "That's the only reason you joined me on this search. The only reason we became friends. The only reason …" he trailed off, not able to finish his thought.

Swallowing thickly, Silver felt the back of his eyes burn and knew it was only a matter of time before he turned into a crying mess. "You know that isn't true. I thought you wanted the money just as much–more than I. I don't care about the cash. Not anymore. James, please," he reached out and gently grabbed at Flint's blue and bronze tie. "I just wanted you to be happy." His finished in a whisper.

Flint's breathing was irregular and heavy, which was the only real tell for his inner turmoil. "John, please," he begged as his face slowly shifted and his mask of anger cracked to show the true sorrow he felt. "I can't–how can I–I don't," he started and stopped over and over again, and eventually Silver understood what he was trying to say.

Tugging on Flint's tie, Silver pulled him closer and wrapped his arms around the slightly taller man. Combing his fingers through Flint's red locks, Silver spoke gently, "It's okay, James," he held on tighter when he felt Flint try to pull away and resist, "It's okay. Thomas–he'd have wanted you to move on; to be happy. You know that. Thomas wants you to be happy." Silver pulled back so he could look into Flint's green eyes. "You don't need the Stone to figure that out. So please," he leaned in and brushed his lips against Flint's, "come back with me. Choose me. Be with me."

Flint's eyes, which has fluttered closed from the kiss, had yet to open again. His brow was furrowed, deep with thought, before he leaned in for another kiss. Obliging him, Silver guided him down until their lips met. Flint's hand reached up behind Silver's hand and he tangled his fingers into his dark locks. Pulling away ever so slightly, and tightening his hold on Silver's hair to make sure he didn't go too far, Flint opened his eyes. Their breaths were slow, deep, and intertwined as Flint rested his forehead against Silver's. "Take me home, John," Flint whispered against his skin before closing the final distance and sealing their lips.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review. If you have a prompt for me, let me know!