Hugo had not wanted to come to this party. At twenty-three, he should have been entitled to wallow in his misery, but as usual, his wishes were rarely taken into account when faced with the full force of his cousin.

“You’re not to sit at home sulking,” James had said. “There’s plenty more girls out there, and you’re too young to be miserable over New Year just ‘cause Jen dumped you.”

“I’m not feeling particularly festive,” Hugo had muttered.

“Get some Firewhisky inside you and you’ll be dancing on levitating tables before you know it,” James had replied, making the suggestion sound very much like an order. “I’ve invited a whole coven of wicked-looking witches, so you should get fixed up in no time.”

So Hugo had turned up to James’ plush apartment, handed over some cans of lager (James had a penchant for Muggle brews), and then stood in the corner, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

“Not still moping over Jen, are you?”

Hugo turned around to see Lily standing there, a smile on her lips and a drink in her hand. He shook his head. “Not really,” he replied and shrugged. He wasn’t lying. He’d been too much of a coward to end it with Jen, so had let things drift until she’d had enough.

“Then why are you skulking in this corner?” she demanded. “My friend, Eliza, is over there.” She paused and gave him a sly wink, but Hugo groaned.

Eliza Finch-Fletchly was pretty. She had a decent enough figure, and a pleasant personality. But she’d also been the Gobstones champion at Hogwarts, and was instrumental in running the National League. It wasn’t that Hugo had anything against Gobstones �“ he just found endless conversations about different liquids squirting in your face to be really boring after the fourth telling.

“Come on,” Lily cajoled. “What do you have to lose?”

“A very dull few hours of my life that I’ll never get back,” he muttered in reply.

Lily pursed her lips in a manner he always associated with Grandma Molly, and then without warning beckoned to Eliza. “She’s perfectly nice!” she hissed. “Just give her a chance.”

“Lily, please don’t,” he mumbled. Then, seeing Eliza walking towards them, her rather intense smile beaming like the headlights of a car, Hugo hastily looked away to the opposite wall.

Someone was standing there watching him. They locked looks and it seemed to Hugo that in that fleeting second, something inside him shifted as he was assessed by a pair of cool, blue eyes.

“Who the hell invited him?” He could hear Lily’s voice, and knew she’d spoken clearly, but her words sounded faint like a buzzing on the air.

“He works with James at The Prophet, doesn’t he?” Hugo replied, marvelling that his voice could sound so steady. Lily muttered something, but Hugo barely heard her. All he could see were those eyes, cold and mocking, yet strangely entrancing, drawing him in.

***

Scorpius had not wanted to come to this party. He knew he’d only been invited because Potter had asked everyone from the paper. It was obvious from the way Potter had greeted him at the door that he hadn’t expected Scorpius to turn up. But some masochistic, black mood had dragged him here because the alternative -- making suffocating small talk with predatory witches at his grandparents’ cocktail party �“ made him retch. His formidable grandmother’s attempts at matchmaking always took an alarming turn at New Year where she’d bewail the fact that at his age she had been married, and how she wanted to be a great-grandmother before she died.

As he watched Eliza Finch-Fletchly stride towards Weasley, he felt something inside of him plummet. It had been a mistake coming here. He wanted to knock back his drink, retrieve his cloak, and head home. Firewhisky could be his companion tonight.

But something stopped him. Blue met blue, mesmerising Scorpius and holding him in total thrall.

***

“It’s the Slytherins!” Albus yelled. “Get ready!”

Giggling, Lily and Rose began shovelling snow into a pile while Hugo, wearing a bright red pair of gloves -- knitted by Grandma Molly -- made huge snowballs.

“How many?” he asked.

“Uh.” Albus sounded evasive.

“How many?” Hugo persisted.

“Not important,” Albus replied. “We can take them.”

“Merlin!” squeaked Rose as she stuck her head above the snow wall they’d created. “Malfoy’s brought reinforcements. There’s at least ten of them.”

“Yeah, that’s ten Slytherins though,” Lily said stoutly as she stood up next to Albus. “We’re four lions �“ Hear us ROAR, Malfoy!”

“We’ll be slaughtered!” Hugo muttered, but still he kept on moulding the snowballs, packing the snow hard so they wouldn’t disintegrate in the air. He peeked at the approaching hordes then gasped. “They’re not just Slytherins, Al. Malfoy’s brought some Ravenclaws with him.”

“Surrender Gryffindor!” Scorpius shouted. “Or feel the wrath of the mighty Slytherin Ravenclaw alliance.”

“Rose,” hissed Albus. “Why is your boyfriend siding with Malfoy?”

“Probably because I dumped him yesterday,” Rose shrieked, and without warning scooped up three snowballs and propelled them through the air with her wand. All three landed in the handsome, but smug, face of her ex-boyfriend.

“Hugo, make more!” she ordered.

“I’m not your house-elf, Rose,” he grumbled, yet he started to work furiously.

But he was too late. Not even the combined efforts of the four of them could repel a charging Malfoy, who was laughing his head off, not even bothering to dodge the snowballs Albus threw at him.

Scorpius launched himself at the wall and landed on top of Hugo. Still laughing, he began to stuff snow under Hugo’s robe, only slowing when Hugo picked up a handful and squashed it into his face. Out of the corner of his eye, Hugo could see Albus tackling two Ravenclaws, Lily pushing a Slytherin girl to the ground and Rose deciding that perhaps she did like her ex-boyfriend again as the pair of them started kissing.

He heard a roar and over Scorpius’ shoulder saw a gang of Hufflepuffs running to aid the Gryffindors. Grinning at Scorpius, he gave him a shove, intending to free himself, but Scorpius held firm. They grappled for a while, tugging at each others’ robes, rolling on the snowy grass and down the small hillock, all the while laughing, for although they were rivals, this wasn’t Quidditch. This was fun!

“Shit, that’s my stomach, you bastard!” Hugo yelled as Scorpius managed to wedge some snow right under his jumper. “I’m bloody freezing, now.”

Using his height to his advantage, Hugo flipped Scorpius over, until at last he was on top. Sitting astride him, he scooped the powdery snow from the bush to his right and, with a wicked smile, proceeded to rub it over Scorpius’ face. Then, whilst the older boy was spluttering, he packed a wad of ice hard in his hand, and wriggled it under Scorpius’ robe and jumper, straight onto his bare stomach.

“Cold, isn’t it?” Hugo laughed as he waited for Scorpius’ next move.

When it came, he was totally blindsided.

“We could warm each other up,” Scorpius murmured, and reaching out suddenly pulled on Hugo’s cloak lapels drawing him closer.

“WHA �“ ”

He stared at Scorpius, stared straight into the blue eyes that no longer seemed cold. “What did you say?” he asked in a softer voice.

Scorpius’ gaze pierced him. It was as if he’d seen in that one infinitesimal moment something else in Hugo besides the Weasley exterior. Something that Hugo hid deep inside and could barely admit.

Hugo shuddered and looked away.

“Forget it,” Scorpius mumbled. Then, wriggling out from beneath Hugo, he stood up and walked away.

“Happy New Year, Weasley,” he called, but did not look back.

***

Hugo sidestepped Lily and brushed off Eliza’s greeting with a curt nod. Muttering something about needing air, he tore his eyes away from Scorpius and walked out to the balcony.

Not even James could organise snow for his party. Instead, it was raining, but Hugo didn’t care; it kept the balcony clear from witches worried about their hair.

“I heard you and Davies split up,” Scorpius muttered from the French windows.

He could feel Scorpius’ breath on his neck, sending shivers through him, and wanted to turn his head and indulge the constant craving. But he’d been here before; their illicit games had played out over the years -- until, as neither could follow through, Hugo had fled.

“What do you want?” Hugo asked, this time unable to stop the quake in his voice.

“You know.”

At that, Hugo turned and stared into Scorpius’ eyes, blue meeting blue. He could fall, sink, drown in those eyes, in that look, in the kiss that would follow if only he’d let it. But now was not the time. He looked away.

“Gryffindor bravery means jack-shit,” Scorpius muttered. “You won’t tell any of them, will you?”

“And you’ve told your parents, have you?” Hugo hissed.

“Mum knows,” Scorpius said abruptly. “I sat her down on Christmas Eve, with a large drink and ‘confessed my sin’.” He laughed bitterly. “She says she’s known for years. But what the fuck is the point of me spilling my guts to the rest of my family, if all that’s going to happen is that I watch you submit to convention time and time again? First Davies and now Finch-Fletchly. Boring, undemanding girls, merely to keep the lie going. Not brave at all, Weasley.”

He sounded bitter, regretful, and that surprised Hugo, who was far more used to Scorpius assailing him in tones of mockery.

“Eliza is Lily’s idea,” he mumbled. “And sometimes I think it’s better to see where the current takes me.”

“Even if you end up of the wrong bank? A different shoreline?” Scorpius demanded. “What if you drift too far and drown, Hugo? What happens then?”

He reached across, wiping away a single raindrop from Hugo’s cheek with his thumb.

“You have a choice,” he whispered.

“No,” Hugo replied. He straightened up and looked down into Scorpius’ eyes. “There’s no choice to make.”

As if he’d been hexed, Scorpius flinched, but Hugo grabbed his hand and pulled him back. He lowered his head, and touched his lips to Scorpius’ mouth, teasing, enticing until Scorpius responded.

“Happy New Year, Malfoy,” he muttered.

Scorpius’ eyes widened. “Do you mean this?”

“Oh yes,” Hugo said, smiling now. “If I’m sinking, I want you with me, Scorpius.”