Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.

Written for Hogwarts Assignment 5, Travel and Tourism Task 6 - A dark/light relationship ending well.

Pairing - LuciusHarry

Word Count - 1727

Written for Jen

Two Dozen Roses

Rosmerta handed him the tray of drinks with a smile, and he thanked her quietly before turning for his table. His friends were a rowdy bunch, and he certainly wouldn't have missed them, even if he didn't know where they were sitting.

He carefully set the tray down and picked up his own drink before he returned to his seat in the corner, slightly removed from the brashness of his friends. He hadn't even wanted to join them, but it was Hermione's birthday, and he couldn't bring himself to let her down.

His friends were everything to him, and while he knew she wouldn't try and guilt him, he didn't want to see the brief disappointment that would spark in her eyes before she managed to hide it from him.

"The Nargles are particularly excited to be near you, this eve, Harry," Luna said, as she sat down beside him.

Harry blinked. She was wearing a red dress, with an orange sash and a yellow headband. It was certainly a cheerful ensemble, though he half wanted a pair of sunglasses to shield his eyes from so much colour.

"That's… not good?" he asked, sipping at his drink.

She smiled serenely. "I have a feeling they'll be gone by the end of the night."

"Huh. Okay. Thanks Luna."

She nodded, and sipped from the straw poking out of her cocktail glass. Her drink was as colourful as she was, and it brought a small smile to his lips. Luna was quirky in the best possible way.

She stayed beside him, quiet but seemingly content in it. Harry listened to the banter flying back and forth through the group, and despite his rather dismal mood, he did chuckle a few times at the more outrageous statements thrown.

"Do you want another?" he asked Luna, gesturing to her almost empty glass.

"No, thank you, Harry. I'm going to leave soon."

He nodded and stood, squeezing her shoulder as he passed her to move to the bar. He was glad Hermione had decided on the Three Broomsticks as the setting for the get-together. He enjoyed the atmosphere of the bar, and it was one of the few places he could let himself relax. He thought it was, perhaps, the proximity to his old school that left him feeling warm and safe.

"Another, please, Rosmerta," he said, setting his empty glass on the bar. She nodded, and moved away to get him his drink. Harry perched himself on an empty barstool, wondering absently how long he could stay there before his friends noticed his absence.

"I'll get that, Rosmerta," a smooth voice said on Harry's left, as she returned with the drink. "And I'll have the same."

Harry wrapped his hand around the glass, his heart thumping in his chest. He knew that voice. He'd craved that voice. He'd been left broken by that voice.

"I can buy my own drink, thank you," he murmured stiffly.

"Harry—"

Harry turned to look at Lucius and quirked an eyebrow. "Lucius."

"I know you expect I'm here for—"

"I don't expect anything," Harry interrupted, voice low. "Can't be disappointed that way."

Lucius tilted his head thoughtfully. "An interesting philosophy. Entirely unlike you, though."

"You know nothing about me," Harry retorted.

Rosmerta returned with Lucius' drink, and he paid for both before Harry could protest again.

"I know I hurt you," Lucius said slowly. "And I know that you feel like I betrayed you. I know that you love pancakes for breakfast, and don't like to try and string a sentence together before you've had your morning coffee. I know that you feel like I didn't appreciate you."

Harry looked away. He couldn't deny any of Lucius' words, but he hated that the blond man had any of that knowledge in the first place.

"If I'm so transparent, why don't you tell me what I'm thinking now?" he offered finally, eyes flashing with repressed anger and challenge.

"Oh, I have no idea what you're thinking," Lucius admitted. "Though I wouldn't imagine it's in any way charitable towards me."

"You're a seer," Harry sneered. "A new career path for you, perhaps."

"Harry."

"Why are you here, Lucius?" Harry asked, the fight leaving him. His shoulders slumped, and he wanted nothing more than to just leave the pub, forget that the night had ever happened.

"I was looking for you. I heard about Miss Granger's party and thought, perhaps, it would be my best chance to see you."

"Why would you be looking for me? You left with no uncertainty between us. You made it clear that it was over and done with. There's no reason for you to be seeking me out now."

"Are you really going to make me admit that I made a mistake, Harry?" Lucius asked, voice low and sultry. "Do you need the words? Do you need to hear me say that I should never have left you, that I should have begged you to stay with me forever instead of callously discarding you the way I did?"

Harry turned to look at Lucius and arched an eyebrow. "Yes."

Lucius chuckled darkly. "I should have realised you would not make this easy, shouldn't I?"

"Probably," Harry agreed. "Because I'm not stupid, Lucius. You want me in your bed again, sure, I believe that. Nobody can deny that the sex between us was fantastic. But… you're incapable of giving me what I need, and I'm grown enough to know that I deserve more than what you're willing to give me."

"How do you know what I'm willing to give if you haven't even asked?" Lucius asked, his grey eyes alight with challenge.

Harry shook his head and stood from the barstool. "You made it abundantly clear during our last… encounter. I won't be a plaything for you, Lucius. Not anymore."

He left the blond man at the bar and returned to his friends to say his goodbyes. Hermione glanced at the bar and then back to Harry with a little too much understanding, and he hugged her tightly.

"You know where I am if you need anything," she whispered in his ear before he released her.

She was the only one that knew of his affair with Lucius, the only one he'd trusted enough to vent too. Hermione was a pro at not judging Harry's bad ideas too much, it was one of her many talents.

"Thanks," he replied quietly, squeezing her hand.

He ignored the ribbing from his friends about his early exit, and left the bar. The cool night air was refreshing on his face, and he looked up at the night sky for a long moment. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and Apparated away from Hogsmeade, back to the small flat in London that he called home.

…

The flowers arrived the very next day. Two dozen long stemmed red roses, delivered by two owls, and arranged in a satin box. They were beautiful, but Harry was fully aware of the sender, and he sighed as he put the box on the table and left his flat.

A bottle of his favourite whisky followed, a deep red ribbon wrapped around the neck of the bottle.

Then a bracelet, silver and inlaid with emeralds.

The gifts came every three days like clockwork, and every time, Harry pushed them aside. He didn't need gifts, didn't want them. He wanted…

He wanted honesty and integrity. He wanted respect and loyalty. He wanted to be loved, the way he saw other people be loved by their significant others.

Trinkets, flowers, they didn't mean anything in the grand scheme of things.

…

"You need to stop," Harry said firmly.

Lucius stared at him for a long moment and then sighed. "You don't like the gifts?"

"It was never about gifts, Lucius," he muttered, shaking his head. "It… I want something that you can't give me. That's fine, it really is. But… you're messing with my head and it needs to stop. I can't be expected to move on when every few days, your presence is everywhere in my flat."

"I don't want you to move on," Lucius retorted. "I want my presence around you always. I thought the gifts would explain that."

Harry shook his head and sighed.

"Harry, I sent two dozen long stemmed roses. You know what they mean, correct?"

"Red roses mean love," Harry replied flatly. "But you don't love me."

Lucius rubbed a hand down his face. "Two dozen red roses mean 'I belong to you'. Of course, they also mean love, but two dozen is a… it's a message of intent. I know what I said when I left, Harry, but I was wrong. I think I knew it then, but I fought it with everything in me, because… I didn't want to love you."

Harry stared. "What—"

"You were supposed to be a… conquest. The boy who lived, the man who won, you would have been my crowning glory. And yet… nobody, not even Narcissa whom I spent many years with, has ever buried themselves under my skin quite so effortlessly as you did. You made me want you, Harry. You made me crave you. I'm done fighting that. I love you, Harry."

The passionate speech was enough to render Harry speechless, and he stumbled back a step to lean against the wall. He hadn't expected any of that when he'd ambushed Lucius at the Ministry, and now he was regretting his venue of choice.

"Harry… give me a chance to show you that I can be everything you need," Lucius murmured, stepping forward. He took Harry's hand in his own and caressed the palm with his thumb.

"I just… I just want someone who loves me," Harry whispered, green eyes bright with unshed tears. "I just want someone who wants me, for me, not the boy who lived."

Lucius' lips tilted up. "I had sex with the man who won. I fell in love with Harry."

…

Lucius walked Harry to the door of his flat and pressed a light kiss against his lips.

"Thank you for allowing me to take you to dinner," he murmured, before he stepped back.

Harry smiled and nodded, catching Lucius hand in his own. He squeezed it lightly. "Next date is my turn," he murmured.

"I look forward to it."

Also written for;

Assorted Appreciation - 14. Someone who values love above all else.

Disney - S3. Philosophy

Book Club - Louisa Clark - The Three Broomsticks / Cheerful / Red Dress

Alphabetti Spaghetti - N - Nargles

Mythology - 4. The start of something new

Women's History - 6. Someone who feels unappreciated

365 - 52. Transparent

1000 - 916. Passionate