Scorpius's head whipped around when the door suddenly opened. He stared at the dripping wet Hugo. The one with all the clothes clinging to his body, leaving nothing to the imagination.
"Did you come all this way to check on me?" he asked, not bothering to hide a smirk. Scorpius forgot to care if he was covered in flour. Seeing Hugo soaked to the bone for him trumped everything.
"We should get you out of these wet clothes," Scorpius continued, closing the distance and pulling the shirt over Hugo's head without a moment's hesitation. "Before you catch your death." There was a practical reason, he reasoned.