Twinsensibility Part Forty

[dysonrules]

WOOT! The start of the holiday season in Twinsville! Aren't they so cute?

Lysander looked up at his brother, whose not-quite-amused face had just appeared in his vision. He smiled at Lorcan around the peppermint stick in his mouth.

“Lysander, what are you doing?”

Lysander removed the peppermint stick with a flourish. “Making snow angels,” he replied, moving his arms and legs over the snow. It was the perfect consistency for snow angels, not too soft and not too compact. Lysander had spent the past half-hour making a lovely group of them across a long stretch of pristine snow. His own heraldic army.

“That’s the most foolish thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Lorcan said.

“No, it isn’t. Remember the time I stripped down to my pants and jumped into the lake when it was partially iced over?” He popped the sweet back into his mouth.

“I stand corrected.” Lorcan rolled his eyes, probably remembering the way he had bellowed and floundered into the freezing water in order to wrap a cloak around him and drag him from the water in accompaniment to a shouted tirade. Personally, Lysander thought Lorcan’s overreaction had more to do with the group of Slytherin girls egging him on, rather than concern for Lysander’s imminent bout with the sniffles.

“What are you doing out here? You hate snow.” Lysander finished his movements and Vanished his peppermint stick to save it for later. He pulled out his wand in order to Levitate himself out of the snow. Using hands and feet to rise was a certain way to destroy the perfection of the imprint.

He floated into the air and gradually closer to his brother, until their cheeks brushed together, cold against cold.

“Hagrid caught me crossing the hall and asked me to fetch more of those hideous poinsettias from the greenhouse, as if there are not already a thousand of them bedecking every inch of space in there. It will be a miracle if I don’t develop an allergy.”

Lysander wrapped his arms around Lorcan’s neck and cancelled the spell, allowing his legs to drop. Not surprisingly, the sudden pull of Lysander’s weight barely caused Lorcan to shift. Lysander moved even closer, glad to have his brother’s warmth against him.

“I want spiced cider,” Lysander said and glanced around furtively before nibbling gently at Lorcan’s cold lips. The few straggling students out braving the frigid conditions were far away, making snowwizards or lobbing ice balls at one another.

“Now?” Lorcan asked with a chuckle. “Are you suggesting I forsake my mission?”

Lysander pondered. The greenhouse was warm and generally deserted at this time of day. He smiled wickedly and shook his head. “I’ll forego the cider if you think you can warm me in a better way.”

Lorcan turned and took Lysander’s hand to lead him at a rapid pace toward the greenhouse. “I think I can find something you’ll like better than cider,” he said.

Lysander grinned and cast one last look at his row of snow angels. They had already cast their magic, it seemed.