J K Rowling owns the boys. I just take them out to play with from time to time.

"Look, I said I didn't mean it," Draco said, his voice full of remorse.

Harry said nothing at all. He sat on the sofa; his hand clasped loosely in his lap, his head lowered, and a drape of messy black hair hiding his features.

"I brought you roses. Isn't that how you tell someone you're sorry?" Draco asked, thrusting the bouquet into Harry's hands.

Harry's limp hands let the roses drop to the floor. Forlorn red petals fell from bundle, floating down and landing near Draco's feet. Expensive rare, blood-red roses discarded like so much trash.

Draco picked up the discarded flowers. "Take them Harry, please?" Draco said, a note of desperation creeping into his voice as he pushed the roses toward Harry again.

But, still Harry refused to respond to Draco's entreaties; his own thoughts turned inward and far away from Draco.

Sighing, Draco stared at the disheveled roses. They had always worked for his previous boyfriends. The slightest real or imagined hurt had sent them scurrying to the florist for flowers to appease their blond lover. Draco raised the dark red blooms to his nose and sniffed. They smelled like the ones he'd received; the sharp spicy tang of sex, the whispered fragrance of proffered love, and the hopeful aroma of forgiveness.

He'd gotten many of these bouquets over the years. Draco had allowed them to think they'd been forgiven, but they hadn't. The petty irritations had been filed away, but the deep hateful hurts had been taken inside until they'd been used to drive away the now unwanted lover. But Harry wasn't like him, was he?

Draco knelt in front of Harry, and reached up and brushed his finger against the tawny skin of Harry's cheekbone. His fingers ghosted gently across Harry's skin, and then pushed a wayward lock of raven hair behind Harry's ear.

"Please…I'm sorry. I didn't think, please?" Draco whispered, gazing hopefully at Harry.

Harry met Draco's penitent gaze with a shy, hesitant look…and then he smiled. A small one to be sure, but one that spoke of so many things unsaid between them. Forgiveness, tenderness, I love you, I'm sorry too, shag me, hold me; all of these seen in one small quirk of the lips and teeth.

Sometimes, Draco thought, one smile is worth more than a dozen roses.