#victorian flower language | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

andithiel · 1 year

Text

The secret language of flowers

Another contribution to the @hdcandyheartsfest for the prompt "bouquet". I was heavily inspired by the classic tumblr "fuck you" bouquet, and it's companion mentioned in the notes, the "fuck me" bouquet. As always, a massive thank you my lovely friend @crazybutgood for the beta and flailing and for making me blush 🥰

Drarry | 2,3k (!) | Teen and up for mentions of naughty things happening

“Draco, dear, stop fidgeting.”

Draco looked up at Pansy sitting across the table from him, a heap of textbooks between them.

“I’m not fidgeting.”

“Okay. Could you then please stop this masturbation replacement and focus on our exam revision?”

He glared at her smirking face and stopped bouncing his leg up and down.

“Thank you.” Pansy smiled sweetly. “Now, could you please pass me the anatomy books?”

He handed them over with a sigh, when there was a tap on his kitchen window. A small brown owl with a flowery scarf tied around its neck sat waiting on the window sill. Draco bolted from his seat to let it in. It stuck out its leg towards him, revealing a scroll of parchment. Draco took it gently and let the bird perch on his owl stand while procuring an owl treat from his cabinet. He rolled out the parchment, chuckling in delight. “Oh dear, they really outdid themselves, this is perfect!”

“What is it?” Pansy got up from her chair and peeked over his shoulder. “A picture of a bouquet?”

He grinned. “It’s a drawn preview for a bouquet I ordered. Let me just approve it real quick and send it back with this owl. I want it delivered as soon as possible.”

He signed the form, dropped the correct amount of money into the owl’s pouch, and sent it on its way.

“Who’s the special one?” Pansy asked. “You haven’t told me you’re seeing anyone.”

“Oh, I’m not seeing anyone, it’s a bouquet of spite.” He turned to her, startling a bit at her demeanour with her arms crossed over her chest, leaning on one hip, eyes flashing. Pansy could be really fucking scary, and in any other situation, he’d be terrified now. But this time, he hadn’t done anything wrong, and she’d probably even enjoy his plan.

“A bouquet of spite?” She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Let me guess: it’s for Potter.”

“How did you—?”

“Oh, please, as if half the class haven’t seen you eye-fucking each other since we started healer training. It was only a matter of time before you made it official.”

“We’re not— I’m not—” Draco spluttered. “This is a bouquet of spite!” He waved the parchment at her, then forced himself to calm down. Being upset would only undermine his point, even if his indignation came from being horribly misinterpreted. “Look,” he said, more calmly now. “Look at this and tell me it’s not the greatest way to send Potter the Sanctimonius Prick a heartfelt ‘fuck you’.”

He held up the drawing of the bouquet he’d ordered the day before, thrusting it towards Pansy, but she maintained her usual resting bitch face (although Draco knew perfectly well that the bitch was never resting).

“All I see is a collection of pretty flowers. Very striking, if I may say so.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t you see the symbolism?”

“What symbolism?”

“The symbolism of the flowers!” he said, suddenly feeling unsure. Was she playing stupid or was she really not familiar with the Victorian flower language? “Here, we’ve got geraniums for stupidity, foxglove for insincerity—”

“Have you met Potter? He’s the most sincere person in the world.”

“Yes, thank you, Pansy, I’ve noticed that. That’s the point,” Draco sighed. “Anyway, I also picked meadowsweet for uselessness, yellow carnations to say ‘you have disappointed me’, and finally orange lilies for hatred. Ergo: ‘fuck you’ in flowers.”

“Which secret language is this?”

“Pansy, my dear, the Victorian flower language is common knowledge, surely you know all of this already?”

Pansy was silent for long seconds, chewing the inside of her cheek, still with her arms crossed. She reminded him of a cobra waiting to strike. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?”

She shrugged. “Seems like an inordinate amount of money and time to spend just to tell someone you loathe them.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, sitting down again with his school books. “Let’s continue revising, shall we?”

💐💐💐

The rest of the day, Draco was in jitters. He couldn’t wait to see how Potter would react to the flowers. Would he be furious? Would he cry? Or worse, would he not care?

He got his answer later in the evening. He’d waved Pansy off and snuggled up on his sofa to read his favourite medical romance novel, when there was an urgent knock on the door. He groaned in frustration and considered disobeying his upbringing by simply pretending he wasn’t at home, but when there was another, even more persistent knock, he reluctantly left his cosy fortress and went to answer it. To his surprise, Potter was standing outside.

“Oh, Draco,” he said breathlessly, as if he was taken by surprise to see Draco and hadn’t just come over to accost him.

“Potter? What are you doing here?”

Draco realised that Potter had probably come to fight him because of the flowers, and Draco had foolishly left his wand on the coffee table.

“I, er… I came to thank you for the flowers, I…” Potter chuckled, looking down at his feet and then up at Draco with flushed cheeks and a glint in his eyes that Draco’d never seen before. Except when they were fighting. “Can I come in?” he said, and Draco wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or if Potter’s voice always sounded this… husky.

He was so flabbergasted by the request that it didn��t even occur to him to deny it, so he merely opened the door further and let Potter step inside. He closed it, and then Potter was so damn close, so much so that Draco could smell his aftershave and the hint of sweat underneath; it made his head spin.

“I have to admit I— I’ve thought about it, I mean, thought about us, but… I think I’ve been afraid to really think about it because I wasn’t sure if you’d feel the same,” Potter said, his lips so close to Draco’s ear that his breath tickled Draco’s skin, sending shivers down his spine.

“Sorry?” Draco squeaked.

“The flowers,” Potter said, drawing back to look Draco in the eyes (and Merlin, this close, Potter’s eyes were mesmerising, with subtle golden hues in them that only emphasised the green). “I have to say that I was a bit angry at first, because I know the foxglove is poisonous. But then I looked into the meaning of it, and…” He chuckled again, biting his bottom lip.

Draco’s head was spinning. It was like he’d been thrown into an alternate dimension, and he was too shocked by Potter’s behaviour to know what to say.

“I thought that, as much as we fight with each other, you wouldn’t send me poisonous flowers just to be a dick, so I think ultimately, it was the foxglove that made me realise you were sending me a message. Which shouldn’t surprise me, you’ve always been full of layers and mystery, haven’t you? So, why not send me a message about your affection and fear of telling me outright?”

“Sorry?” Draco said again. Why were words failing him now, of all times?

Potter rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face made it look… fond. “Come on, Draco, I know you probably think I’m clueless when it comes to these things, but even if I don’t know the meaning of flowers by heart, I know how to look stuff up.”

Draco didn’t answer, he just stood frozen, gaping like a fish.

“I’ll admit I was surprised about the meadowsweet for courtship and matrimony, because it felt like maybe getting ahead of things, but—” he stepped closer again, his hands coming to cradle Draco’s waist “—the more I thought about it, the more it made sense, and… I wouldn’t want to rule it out.”

Potter was so close now that his breath ghosted over Draco’s face, and Draco’s eyelids fluttered closed.

“Geranium for happiness,” Potter said, kissing the angle of Draco’s jaw, “foxglove and orange lilies for pride,” his lips glided along Draco’s jaw. “I shouldn’t be surprised you chose two flowers to symbolise your pride,” he chuckled, and Draco swallowed thickly, his breath quickening, heart beating wildly in his chest. “And the yellow chrysanthemums for joy and celebration were a nice way to sign the message off.” Potter’s lips had reached Draco’s chin, now.

“They weren’t—” Draco sighed.

“What?” Potter’s mouth was so close to his now that they were practically sharing the same air.

“Nothing,” Draco said, throwing all caution to the wind and tilting his head down to capture Potter’s lips with his.

Maybe this wasn’t the reaction he’d planned, but he was certainly not complaining about the outcome of his scheme. Especially not when Potter grabbed his arse to press himself closer, which led to Draco grabbing Potter’s hair to be able to angle his head just right, which lead to Potter eliciting the most delicious moan Draco had heard in his life, which led to Draco deciding then and there that he needed to send the florist an extra big tip.

💐💐💐

“So, it seems as if the flowers you sent really paid off.”

Normally, Draco would hate to admit to Pansy that she’d been right, but today, the day after having been snogged silly by the Prat who lived, he felt generous.

“Well, I guess one of us had to nudge the other one in the right direction.”

“I think you did more than just nudge Potter yesterday, if that love bite is anything to go by.”

Draco’s hand flew to the part of his neck where Potter had been most persistent in sucking yesterday, but was interrupted by a tapping on the window. When Draco looked up, it was an owl with the same neck bind as the one he’d received yesterday with the drawing of Potter’s bouquet, but this one was larger, and it was clutching a big brown package in its talons. Draco hastened to let it in and set the package down on the kitchen counter. He gave the owl a little bowl of water along with the owl treats—it looked a bit tired—and then proceeded to unwrap what looked like a packet of flowers.

“Oh, more flowers?” Pansy cooed. “A little thank you for your tryst yesterday?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco said, searching for a card. “And calling it a tryst makes it sound sordid, we didn’t even do anything under the belt.” Unless rutting counted, he thought, remembering with a thrill how Potter had shivered against him as he came.

Once all the paper was gone, he admired the bouquet Potter had selected for him. It was an odd mix of colours and shapes of flowers, not as aesthetically pleasing as the one he’d sent, but one couldn’t put too much faith in Potter’s choice in beauty.

“Is that a message as well?” Pansy looked at the bouquet with a frown, as if she was personally offended by the messiness of the ensemble.

Draco snorted. “Highly unlikely, since he completely missed my message yesterday.” But out of habit, he started going through the different meanings of the flowers anyway, just to show Pansy how wrong she was. “I mean, look: this one is for “anticipation”, and this, “elope with me. Sure, he told me yesterday that he wouldn’t want to rule out—” He cut himself off, because that particular information was something he hadn’t shared with Pansy yet, because he wasn’t sure he hadn’t been dreaming the whole thing. “And this is for ‘Victory in battle’, which, okay I’ll admit that that could be a message considering how much we fight about things, but—”

He cut himself off again, because the meaning of the red poppies could not be mistaken for anything else. Pleasure. He studied the bouquet again, heat rising in his face as understanding dawned on him. “Fucking hell,” he murmured, feeling Pansy’s eyes on him.

He fumbled for the card, which read “Hope you like them as much as I liked mine yesterday, XX Harry.”

“That fucking—” Draco crumpled the card in his hand and turned on his heel to go to his living room, where his Floo was.

“What?” Pansy said, bewildered. “What does it say?”

“It says I’ve been had,” Draco said, throwing a too big pinch of Floo powder into his hearth and spinning off to Potter’s flat.

When he stepped out, dusting himself off, Potter was leaning against the back of an armchair, arms crossed and a smug smirk on his face.

“Did you like the flowers?”

Draco drew himself up to his fullest height, trying as best he could to stare Potter down.

“You—”

Like yesterday, he was annoyingly at a loss for words, but this time, it was out of anger.

Potter tilted his head, eyes glittering, as if he was an innocent puppy waiting for a treat. “I, what?”

“You know of the Victorian flower language.”

Potter’s smile widened, but still with that sweetness to it. “Of course I do, it’s common knowledge.”

“So, you really sent me a bouquet telling me ‘I anticipate you to elope with me and conquer me in pleasure with much energy’?” Draco said, not sure if he should be offended or impressed.

“I was thinking more like ‘I’m anticipating you and me getting out of here so you can tackle me and enthusiastically fuck me cross-eyed,’ but, yeah, I guess your interpretation work as well.”

Draco choked on his own saliva. “So you— Yesterday— You knew— You understood what—”

“That you wanted to tell me ‘fuck you’? Yeah, I did.”

“But—”

Potter scoffed, pushing off the armchair and prowling closer. “Oh, come on, Draco. No one puts that amount of money and effort into sending an elaborate message like that to someone they loathe. Not even you.”

Draco crossed his arms as Potter stepped into his personal space and tilted his head up towards him. “Well, well, Potter. It seems like you have some Slytherin in you, after all.”

“Mmm. Though I have to say, I don’t think I have nearly enough Slytherin in me,” Potter whispered into his ear. “Care to help me change that?”

Draco nodded mutely as his cock gave a twitch.

“Good,” Potter purred. “And just so you know, you’ll call me Harry from now on.”

Following Harry into his bedroom, Draco swallowed any objection he had. “With pleasure.”

#drarry #hd candy hearts fest #prompt: bouquet #victorian flower language #harry potter draco malfoy #hpdm #harry is a little shit #but tbh so is draco #they deserve each other #i imagine at first the rest of their class will be like FINALLY!#until they get bored of the constant arguments #when they realise it's drarry's form of foreplay #andi’s candy hearts #andithielwrites

174 notes · View notes