ROSES | 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐘

T H R E E

BURGUNDY ROSE

"burgundy roses have a very specific connotation of unconscious beauty. burgundy roses signify a very deep passion, even beyond that of red roses."

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The third day that Draco arrived, it was sunny outside. It was as if the sun shined specifically for him, and the light traveled all this way just for the chance to shine on him in all of his glory. He was the very definition of the word beautiful, but even that word didn't do him justice. Harry had come up with the theory that no dictionary could possibly ever have a word for him.

   The brunet watched him wall around the store as he always did, waiting patiently for him to make his single selection for the day. Their little routine had become one of Harry's favorite parts of the day.

   Harry leaned on his hands from where he sat at the counter, and called out to him.

   "Find what you're looking for yet?"

"Almost!"  Draco turned around to face him and shouted back, "Why, you got better places to be, darling?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for Harry's reply. That damn lopsided grin was etched onto his face, and if Harry didn't know any better, he would say it was a permanent feature of Draco's.

   "Not until four!" Harry called back jokingly.

   "Do you have any more gardenias?" Draco asked, looking around where they were usually kept; running his fingers lazily across the empty shelf.

        Harry shook his head, "We don't get any more in until Friday, sorry."

     Draco scoffed and moved on to the rainbow of roses near the front.

      "How do you know where everything is? You always seem to know what should and shouldn't be in stock, and know exactly where it should be." A pause, then Harry fake gasped and held a hand to his heart dramatically, "You're trying to steal my job!"

    Draco laughed again, picking up an orange rose, spinning it, then setting it back down and picking up the burgundy one beside it.

       "No, I just know the owner pretty well is all."

    Harry hummed, and sat up straighter as he observed the way that Draco always picked up a flower as if he were picking up something made of glass.

        "You know Neville then?"

      Draco turned his full attention to Harry now, "Oh, I know Neville."

   Before Harry had the chance to ask what he meant by that, the blond had already decided on his flower and presented it to Harry like a proud child would present their artwork. Harry happily accepted the flower today in his right hand and smiled at the beautiful boy in front of him.

      "Do you know what this one means, grumpy?" Draco asks, raising an eyebrow with an amused look on his face.

        Harry sighed, "You know I only work here part-time."

      "Okay?"

      "So, I wish you'd stop asking me what all of these damn flowers mean."

          "Thought I'd just give you the benefit of the doubt today," Draco grinned. "Today's flower is a burgundy rose! Some people believe that it represents love with more passion than even a red rose does, but most of the time it stands for unconscious beauty."

      Though Harry didn't believe in any of this stuff, his cheeks reddened anyways, and he subconsciously started shifting his weight from foot to foot.

      "See? You don't even know how cute you are when you do the little things."

The blond gave him a small wave, and was out the door again, leaving Harry to sit and wait for him to arrive tomorrow.

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