"There's a snowstorm," Scorpius says suddenly. He sits up, and Al groans at his displacement. They were curled up on the couch in Al's room of 12 Grimmauld Place, the fire crackling in the fireplace, and weighed down by each other's limbs and fuzzy blankets. It had been dry, warm and cozy.
It had been because Scorpius moved and Al wants his warmth back.
"Al, there's a snowstorm," Scorpius repeats. He sounds worried enough that Al opens his eyes to look at him.
"Yeah, so?" Al asks. He turns his head and looks out the window of his room. It's a flurry of snow outside, contrasting from the light snowfall of earlier, and basically all he can see is white. It's definitely a snowstorm. "We're inside, and Grimmauld Place can handle it."
"How am I going to get home?" Scorpius demands, looking down at him.
Al nuzzles his hip sleepily. "Floo?"
"You know how storms throw around energy and mess with magic," Scorpius murmurs. One of his hands finds it's way to stroke Al's hair. He leans into the touch.
"Isn't that just lightning storms? I'm pretty sure it's just lightning storms. I learned about it from Rose."
"What, that one time?" Scorpius snorts, and Al throws an arm out to smack him in the stomach. "No, it depends on the storm. Sometimes, in really strong storms, the magic current gets a bit messed up..." His voice trails off for a bit and Al sighs. He's drifting off again when Scorpius says, "Maybe I should go," and Al jerks awake.
"No," he murmurs, voice heavy with sleep. He blinks a couple times to wake himself up, and reaches for the sleeve of Scorpius's merino wool sweater. The sweater is Muggle, and probably ridiculously expensive. It's also soft, warm, and where his head was pillowed comfortably for the last few hours.
"No?" Scorpius repeats. He says it like he's testing the word on his tongue, but he's smiling. "Al, I should go before my dad worries."
"Your dad'll be fine. Send him a Patronus and stay here. Isn't the Manor cold? Grimmauld Place is warm."
"I think that's more of a reason to make sure my parents won't fret," Scorpius tells him, soft, and tries to extract himself. Al tugs him down.
"Stay," he pleads. He leans in. Presses his nose to the skin between Scorpius's neck and shoulder. He smells good. Like faint cologne, but very Scorpius. "Scorpius. come on. Baby, it's cold outside."
Scorpius laughs. "Did you just quote a Muggle song on me?"
"Stay with me," Al sings, off-key, under his breath, and Scorpius smiles, then looks out the window, uncertain. Al pulls out the puppy-eyes.
Scorpius half-sighs, half-laughs. "A bit longer," he agrees, and bends down to kiss Al properly on the mouth.
Al smiles into the soft kiss, curling fingers into Scorpius's soft sweater and soft blond hair. He feels soft, warm, and content, and happy, especially with Scorpius.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, rights to J.K. Rowling.
Also, the title is from the song "Baby, It's Cold Outside" which was originally written by Frank Loesser.