The Houses Competition (or THC)

House: Gryfindor

Class: Potions

Category: Standard

Prompt(s) chosen: Trying to be something/someone you're not./ Photograph

Word Count: 1286

Verum Tuae Sui

It was during the bleak and painful days after his divorce from Narcissa had become final that Lucius found it. He'd spent weeks rattling around the Manor, bleakly contemplating a house that had never felt like home, and never less so than now. His son was gone, off to explore the limits of what he could be, and Lucius had not had the heart to stop him. Not after what attempting to live up to the 'Malfoy Name' had cost the boy already. And besides, he was a man grown now, though it hurt something in Lucius to admit it. So he had wished him well, given him as much money as Draco would consent to take (which was not enough, and if Lucius had cast a single tiny spell linking the boy's wallet to the Malfoy family Gringott's account, could anyone blame him?), and sent him out into the world. The most recent postcard had shown him, golden tan and white hair, standing on a beach next to a young man whose eyes had lost a little of the wariness they'd carried the last time Lucius had seen him.

Their arms were around each other's shoulders, their grins blinding. And something in him, some tight hard knot in his heart, eased. Because for all the mistakes he'd made – for all the terrible mistakes and the horrific price that he and his had had to pay, at least this he'd gotten right. Because Draco was happy, and he felt secure enough in Lucius' love that Lucius doubted he'd thought very long before sending the postcard. If he never accomplished another thing in his life, Lucius would die happy with the knowledge that Draco was free. In a way that Lucius himself had never managed, Draco was a free man.

As he sat alone in an empty manor, having put himself outside one too many glasses of rather excellent brandy, it occurred to Lucius that he himself had never been as free as Draco. He had never felt able to be…open…about who he was. Or who he might want to be, outside of being, well, Lucius Malfoy.

There had been things…things he'd thought about, as a young man and as a boy. Or not really thought about, but consciously avoided thinking about. Because that was not The Malfoy Way, and he was the scion of a great House. There was no way that the son of the great Abraxas Malfoy would be…unnatural. In any way. So he had tucked those not-quite-thoughts away and never taken them out to examine in the harsh light of day. Half-formed hopes and wishes that he had buried so deeply that his conscious mind had never acknowledged their presence. Dreams that had shriveled and vanished under the harsh light of dawn until he had forgotten them entirely.

But he was a man grown now, free of all obligation and duty. He had given his House an heir, he had given Narcissa twenty faithful years. It suddenly occurred to him that he could be done now. He could be finished with pretence, free as Draco was free. He could, finally and for the first time, reach out for what he wanted. What he'd always wanted, though it had never occurred to him before that he could have it.

There was always the chance, of course, that he would be denied, but he thought…he thought perhaps not. Perhaps there was a chance now, for some kind of happiness at the end of it all. After all, hadn't there once been something? Nothing concrete, nothing he could point at to say 'this is a sign'. But glances held too long, a brisk touch turned momentarily tender.

And after all, what did he have to lose? His pride? Voldemort had done for that. His honour? Did he have any of that, after all these long years? A friend? Well, perhaps. But if it went wrong, if all did not go as his half-formed wishes believed they might…well, there was always tomorrow. He had lived through the worst life had to offer, and Lucius truly thought that there was nothing he needed fear now. Nothing at all. His entire life, he'd been under the heel of others. His father, the Dark Lord…one could even say that for a time, he'd been under his own thumb. Too blind to speak out, too well-shaped to even acknowledge that there was something that could be said.

But he was a man grown now, and free to do as he willed.

And on that thought he stood, and swirled his dark cloak around his shoulders. He may have been a touch drunk, but Merlin knew if ever a man needed a touch of chemical courage, it was him. He stepped into the anteroom where Apparition was permitted through the wards and, not allowing himself to think too much, Apparated away.

He appeared, unsplinched, in front of a cottage in the Highlands, where the wind screamed whipped his cloak into a banner and carried the scent of heather. Lucius allowed himself to take heart from the scents and sounds around him. Courage seemed to imbue the very bones of the place, courage and heart and steadfast devotion to lost causes. Well, and God knew the man he'd come to see was well acquainted with those.

The door opened before he was halfway up the winding stone path, and in the warm candlelight the dark man stood, looking at Lucius down the bridge of his prodigious nose. His face remained unsmiling but there was a touch of mirth, a hint of joy around the midnight eyes that lifted Lucius' heart.

"Luc," Severus Snape said, and stepped aside to allow Lucius to enter. "Come in."

Lucius stepped inside, because confessions like his should not be made on doorsteps – or perhaps they should, but not on doorsteps in the Scottish wind, which blew words away as the cleared the mouth. It was hardly the sort of thing to shout, after all.

"Severus," he said, when his cloak had been hung, still standing in the cramped entryway where he could smell the exotic spice-scent of the other man. "Severus."

"Luc, are you drunk?" Severus asked.

"Not drunk enough," Lucius said with a wry twist to his mouth. "Not drunk enough to make this easy, but perhaps drunk enough to make it possible at least."

Snape's dark brows winged toward his hairline.

"And what is this, pray tell?" he asked.

"This is…it's everything," Lucius said. "It's…you know, people used to believe I was eloquent, can you credit it? It occurred to me today, as I watched my son wave at me from a picture, his arms around Harry Potter and his smile all but blinding me, that I am an unspeakable coward. Twenty years and more, this has been between us, and I've never said a word. Well, here it is. I love you, Severus Snape. I've loved you more than half my life, and if you can forgive me for being a coward I will dedicate all my days to making you the happiest man who ever lived."

The silence stretched, and Lucius waited.

It seemed like forever, because his heart was pounding in his ears, but it was perhaps a minute before Snape took a deep breath and looked at him. Lucius made himself an open book, as clear as water, hiding nothing, and watched the smile bloomed on the craggy, beloved face.

"Well, you certainly took your time," Severus said, and then his mouth came down on Lucius' and the world ignited.

Lucius kissed and was kissed, and for the first time in his life, he wasn't hiding a damn thing.