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His voice had never sounded so cold, his manner never so defeated. Lucius watched Severus from the ink dark expanse of hallway that led from the Slytherin common room to Severus’ quarters. He watched as Severus leaned his head against the portrait that guarded his doorway from all and sundry. He watched as his one time lover cursed himself softly, his voice liquid with unshed tears. “Stupid, foolish, imbecile! When will you learn, Severus? Once again… your sharp tongue has wrested you from the brink of happiness. He cared and you lost him…”
He watched with a heart that seemed to stutter as Severus dashed what could only be tears angrily off his cheeks.Lucius wanted to let him stew in his pain. The small, angry, entitled part of him wanted Severus to feel as much pain as the younger man had given to Lucius just an hour before, but his heart, which had been engaged for so long, much longer than Lucius wanted to admit, had him striding forward into the flickering light that framed the scene before him.
He reached for Severus, pulled him around to face him only to see that the supposed tears were absent and Severus’ black eyes glinted with something akin to triumph. Lucius had been played.
Malfoy spat, “You utter rotting bastard.”
As Lucius attempted to flee and nurse his breaking heart, Severus halted him with work hardened hand and drew him close. He kissed the older man, ghosting a light touch of his lips over Lucius’ before deepening the contact, opening Malfoy with his tongue. Lucius groaned, wanting nothing more than to pull away and berate this maddening man, wanting to feel the slide of Severus’ slick skin again. They warred with each other, much as they always had. Lucius vying for mastery against the dark force that was Severus. He could drown in the kiss, he could kill the younger man for playing him.
When Severus finally ended the contact, he whispered against Lucius’ lips, “I am sorry for what I said, Lucius, but I needed to know. I had to know if your… regard was more than a passing whim.”
Lucius attempted a supercilious smirk, he tried to regain control of his galloping breath. He wanted--no needed-- Severus. He had done since before the Dark Lord set up residence in his manor. He finally said, “No more games, Severus. I’ve had enough of that to last two lifetimes. I want you in my bed…”
He faltered. He had been schooled by the best masters of cruelty that needs should never be revealed lest they were used against him. He stuttered over the words, whispered softly so that he could pretend that they were not uttered in such desperation, “I-I.. have loved you for a year…h-have needed you for longer…
He waited for Snape to heap derision on him, to reject the indelicacy of his needy emotional state. He waited until he felt a hot tear splash against his cheek, not his own, but spilled by the man who had so captivated Lucius, the man who had loved so wholly that he lost a war for it. “Severus…”
Lucius waited, and Severus crumbled before him, the privation, solitude, and walls built over a lifetime fell. When Lucius finally peered into Severus’ eyes he saw the seventeen year old that was before the Dark Lord, before war ground him down to nothing but bitterness and duty. He saw the hope of his youth and the unloved child that resided there. “Let me in, Severus. Let me be your shelter from this cold world and I’ll let you be mine.”
Severus nodded, a sharp, pain filled motion. Lucius knew that any relationship they had would have to be fought for, won in pitched battles over Lucius’ pride and Severus’ insecurity, but as Severus leaned toward him, claimed his lips once again, he knew it would be worth the fight.