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Severus looked around his little florist shop with a sigh. So many of the blooms were starting to go over again and, as usual, he didn’t have any customers on the horizon. That was the problem of owning a florist in a small village in the middle of nowhere. Even in the wizarding world, most people didn’t really know about, let alone visit Mold-on-the-Wold. It was literally famous for being the birthplace of Albus and Aberforth Dumbledore, although the history with their father and muggles prevented it from being a place of pilgrimage for anyone except their biggest fans.
The shop itself had apparently been the refuge of Albus’ mother, Kendra, after her husband was arrested, as well as their sole income for some time, the family having rented it out when they moved to Godric’s Hollow. Dumbledore had left the shop to Severus in his will, saying that he hoped it would be a refuge for him as well. Aberforth had agreed, provided Severus actually ran the place and didn’t just sell it. Severus agreed, needing something to do anyway, since Potter had ensured that he was free. Going back to teaching was out of the question and Severus had had too many requests for poisons when he had tried to set up a mail order potions business.
Growing flowers wasn’t exactly beyond him, although Severus had never had any desire for basic bouquets though, having been intrigued by the art of floriography after learning about it from Narcissa. He always loved anything to do with codes: spell crafting was essentially just working out the code to get something to work after all. He had enjoyed learning about another language and had frequently sent flowers to Narcissa to help with his studies, but also because it annoyed Lucius no end. This habit spread to the bouquets Severus made up for customers, with him wanting them to have a hidden meaning, as something different to what they might be able to pick up in a supermarket. It left them looking a bit weird at times, however, which was possibly why he didn’t have many repeat customers, even among his muggle clients.
At least there wasn’t a mortgage to pay off on the place so Severus only had to worry about paying his bills. That he could manage at least, although it would be handy to have a little more, as a treat, but that wouldn’t happen if he kept chasing customers away. He needed to change his ways, and he vowed that he would try his utmost to be pleasant to his next new customer, although that could prove difficult if they were a complete moron.
Severus heard the bell above the door jingle and he braced himself for whoever the new customer would be, only to have the air knocked out of his lungs when he looked up. There was none other than Harry Potter, looking better than Severus had ever seen him. It had been a few years since the end of the war and Auror training had apparently done wonders for the boy, well, young man now; his figure having filled out very nicely. His hair had grown out a bit, now looking less messy and more ‘just shagged’, an idea that Severus did not wish to have. He tried to remind himself that Harry was someone he used to teach but it was difficult to merge the image of the handsome young man before him with the gangly kid from before.
“Hi,” Harry said, a bright smile on those plump lips and Severus had a strong urge to bite them to find out just how juicy they were.
“Good afternoon, how can I help you on this fine day?” He was trying for politely neutral in his tone, given their mixed history.
“Good afternoon,” Harry replied, looking momentarily confused before shaking it off. “This might be a long shot but do you know that flowers can be used to send a message?”
Severus blinked. “The art of floriography, yes, I am aware of it.” If he were honest with himself, he was surprised that Harry Potter knew of such an obscure art.
“Excellent,” Harry grinned before slapping a bag of coins on the counter. “I need you to make a bouquet that says ‘fuck you!”
Severus blinked again. “I beg your pardon! You know that is not normally what bouquets are used for.”
“I know, but I can’t punch him in the face or curse him given my position so I figured this was the next best thing.”
“You could always just give him a bouquet of seedless dandelions and tell him you left the seeds in his garden,” Severus suggested.
Harry laughed, a beautiful rich sound that warmed Severus’ cold, shrivelled heart. It wasn’t a sound he had been privy to before and he was suddenly jealous of all the man’s friends for hearing it more often.
“I love that idea, although unfortunately it won’t help. As much as he would hate that, it wouldn’t really affect him in any way. He would just get the house elves to douse any sprouts with herbicide so it wouldn’t really hurt.”
A pureblood and an idiot, not that that was particularly surprising as Severus found many of that lot to be lacking even rudimentary cognitive abilities. Still, as much as he wanted to skewer this person for managing to incite such ire in the fucking hero of the wizarding world, Severus couldn’t help mentally celebrating at learning the sex of this villain. A ‘fuck you’ message usually meant the sender had been personally hurt; something that typically implied they had a close relationship. It implied Harry was gay and, while Severus knew his chances with the man were still severely negligible, but that knowledge would certainly fuel his wank fantasies later on.
“Are you sure this man will understand the bouquet he receives?” Floriography wasn’t exactly well known, even in a backward culture of the wizarding world, as Severus had learned from experience.
“Oh he definitely does,” Harry assured him. “He goes on about it all the bloody time. Apparently his mother taught him which makes some sense as apparently him and his mum have a closer relationship than I thought.”
Severus did have to wonder why Harry would lower himself to get into a relationship with someone who was clearly a man baby and hadn’t yet learned to cut the apron strings. That being said, it was possible the man didn’t know what constituted a healthy relationship with one’s parents, with only the Weasleys as reference, and two of those were still at home last he checked. He was suddenly taken by an overwhelming desire to find out who this moron was who apparently gave Harry Potter such a bad dating experience that he felt the need to insult him in flower form. He hoped that it wasn’t one of his former snakes but, on the off chance it was, Severus had a strong desire to make their lives exceedingly uncomfortable.
“You are aware that there are certain blooms that can have some adverse effects if touched,” Severus suggested.
“That is tempting,” Harry smirked, “but I don’t think either of us want to deal with the fallout if it got out we had injured someone, even slightly, on purpose, especially as you of all people wouldn’t be able to deny knowledge.”
“Would they know, for sure, that the bouquet came from me?”
Harry grimaced. “They would definitely be able to work it out.”
“That is a shame,” Severus murmured and he was more pleased than he should have been when Harry flashed him a conspiratorial smile.
“Can I just say that I love how into this idea you are.”
Severus fought hard not to shudder at the near purr in Harry’s voice. It didn’t mean anything of course, even if Potter was gay, but he couldn’t help wondering if he might be able to proposition the man for a rebound fuck. He was sure Potter would have plenty of options but what Severus lacked in looks, he certainly made up for in discretion.
“So what is it exactly that you want to say, since the Victorians didn’t exactly have a flower to say ‘fuck you’?”
“I suppose,” Harry chuckled and Severus found a smile coming to his face unbidden. “In that case I want to tell the man that he can burn in hell, although the pretentious prick might not understand that reference.”
“Basically, you want to invoke an unforgivable but in floral form,” Severus suggested and Harry flashed him a blindingly bright smile.
“See, I knew you were the perfect person for this.”
Severus crossed his fingers that his cheeks weren’t as red as they felt. “I appreciate your belief in me, Mr Potter.”
“Harry, surely, after everything we’ve been through in the past.”
“I suppose you should call me Severus then,” Severus said and he could swear Harry’s smile got even brighter.
“Severus then, is this going to be enough money for it?”
“More than enough,” Severus assured him without even checking. It could be a bag of nuts but he wouldn’t care. He was too happy to see the young man, and have a pleasant interaction with him, to risk ruining it by quibbling over a few coins.
“If you’re sure. Feel free to owl me if it isn’t though; seriously, no expenses spared. I trust you to get the message right.”
Severus gulped, floored by the sentiment. “I appreciate your level of trust in me.”
“If anyone has earned my trust it’s you,” Harry assured him and Severus gulped.
“When would you like to come and pick it up?” Severus asked, looking for any excuse to keep the conversation going.
“If you can just owl it to Grimmauld Place when it’s done, that would be great,” Harry said and Severus felt like he’d just been doused in cold water. Of course this was a one off; as if the great saviour would grace his little shop more than once.
“That is fine. When do you need it for?”
Harry winced. “Friday? Is that too soon?”
“That is plenty of time,” Severus assured him. It wasn’t as if he was rushed off his feet with orders.
“I still feel like I owe you,” Harry smiled.
“I promise that it is no issue, Harry,” Severus said and he could have sworn Harry’s face fell at that.
“Alright, well, thank you Severus. Hopefully I’ll see you around.” With that he walked out the shop and Severus couldn’t help feeling that he had messed something up although, for the life of him, Severus couldn’t think what.
Creating the bouquet was actually quite fun. He might not know who this man was, or what they had done exactly, but he could definitely warn them against screwing over Harry Potter in the future. Orange lilies and yellow carnations for disdain, contempt and hatred; buttercups for ingratitude and childishness; rhododendrons for danger; black dahlias for betrayal; begonias for impending misfortune; tansies to declare war on the person and black roses to symbolise death. Strangely, it almost looked like a Hufflepuff bouquet, with the abundance of black and yellow, but hopefully that would wind the man up even more, especially if they were a former Slytherin.
He got the bouquet ready by Thursday, thanks to some potent, magical fertiliser, and, when Friday came, Severus found himself actually considering going to a public event.
The Malfoys had apparently donated a bunch of money to create a park in Hogsmeade as a memorial garden to those lost during the war. Normally he stayed away from such events, since there were still those who held his actions in the war against him, and Severus usually didn’t want to risk drawing attention away from whatever worthwhile cause was happening. He had a strong desire to see Harry again, however, and, since the saviour invariably did show up to these things, Severus found himself getting ready to attend. The fact that he pulled out his best robes and made sure his hair was clean.
There was a vast amount of people gathered at the Hogsmeade site, including some upper year students, which was part of the reason why Severus made sure to skulk at the back. Miss Granger was apparently leading the ceremony, with Draco Malfoy cutting the ribbon to open it. Miss Granger had also apparently grown into her looks as well, apparently, and the pair were having numerous photos taken. Severus could imagine many rumours about them running rampant for the next couple of days although Severus could see, even from this distance, that their body language showed a strong dislike for each other, so that was highly unlikely.
Hiding at the back of the crowd was great in allowing Severus to keep out of the public eye. It was not great, however, for allowing Severus to even make eye contact with Harry and Severus couldn’t help feeling it was a bit of a waste of time. The one surprise was seeing Draco being presented with the bouquet after the ribbon cutting and Severus had to admit that he was very confused. As far as he was aware, Draco was very straight, contrary to what his attitude and fashion sense might suggest. It had Severus questioning his previous assumptions about the reasons for the bouquet, and he couldn’t help wondering if his assumptions about Harry’s sexuality were also wrong. He was lost in thought on that very subject when someone came up and began to talk to him.
“Hey Severus, please don’t take offence but are you sure that bouquet said what you thought it did?”
Severus whipped his head around to stare at Harry and his sudden appearance and had to take a moment to think about Harry’s question.
“It said disdain, hatred, contempt, ingratitude, danger and death, as well as the fact that you were declaring war on Draco,” Severus replied. “The meaning was there, you could tell by the look of shock on Narcissa’s face. Draco apparently didn’t pay attention to the negative meanings of flowers as much as the positive ones.”
“Did she?” Harry queried. “I have no hard feelings against her but I always have a hard time reading her expressions.”
“The trick is watching her eyes, not her mouth,” Severus explained. “Muscles around the eyes are a lot more difficult to control. Honestly, what do they teach you in Auror training?”
“Not enough apparently,” Harry chuckled and Severus once again found the sound warming his soul. “Is that the trick with you as well?”
“You don’t need to look into anything with me, Harry. I have never lied to you before this point and I have no inclination to do so in the future.”
“That’s good to know,” Harry murmured. He paused, looking at Severus, and opened his mouth to say something else when someone in the crowd called Harry’s name. “You know, I’m thinking I may need to come back to your shop and get an apology bouquet if the meaning really was as bad as you said.”
“If what Draco did for you is worthy of a ‘fuck you’ bouquet, from you of all people, then I doubt an apology is necessary, especially after everything you did for him and his family.”
Harry looked confused as he laughed again. “Oh, Malfoy didn’t do anything to me. It was Hermione, who had to work with him on this garden. Don’t ask me why, I imagine it was more because she was the next ‘biggest name’ after me and the one who wasn’t busy with Auror training. Anyway, the Malfoys footed the money for this so Draco kept sticking his nose into things, disagreeing with most of her decisions and going over her head when she didn’t give into his suggestions. The Malfoys still hold some sway it seems, and Hermione kept getting called in, only getting her way when she threatened to walk off the project entirely. It was a bit galling when she was told she needed to be the one to give him a bouquet and a speech of thanks. Of course they wanted the Muggleborn to help rehabilitate the Malfoys’ image.”
He spat the last bit and Severus frowned. Of course Potter wasn’t actually gay. There had never been any actual hint of it at school, only rumour, especially when the trio went off on their little trip. As usual, Severus was barking up the wrong tree and he felt like a complete fool.
“Right, yes, that does make sense. Still, I think the bouquet was appropriate. Narcissa got the warning and she will let Draco know to tread more carefully in the future.” Severus hesitated a moment then drew out a flower he had brought, just in case. It was a red camellia, which seemed fitting for the saviour, and Severus pinned it to Harry’s robes. “For when you inevitably get drawn into pictures. Now I must go. I have shown my support for this project, not that anyone here really cares, and I have a shop to run. Take care, Harry.”
The last part was said with true sincerity and Severus wondered just how long it would be before he saw the saviour gracing the society pages with a beautiful young witch on his arm. It was what the wizarding world expected after all. Severus was nothing but a bitter old relic of a time most people would rather forget. He knew he should be grateful that he had his quiet little corner to while out his days in but, at the same time, he couldn’t help feeling miserable. He had felt hope in the light that was Harry’s presence, hope that there could be something more for him than this drab little existence, only to have the flame of that hope snuffed out in the blink of an eye. He knew he had no right to expect more from his lot but he had, and the reminder of what he could never have left him cold.
It was a rainy day on Saturday, and Severus had half a mind not to open the shop since it was obvious he wouldn’t get any customers at all with this downpour and it didn’t seem like it would be letting up any time soon. He was just nursing a cup of tea as his eyes flicked over The Daily Prophet. Harry was on the front page of course, wearing the flower Severus had given him. In general camellias meant gratitude and perfection, but the red one in particular meant unpretending excellence, which seemed perfect for Harry. It also meant ‘you are a flame in my heart’, a little confession, pinned right over Harry’s own heart, exactly where Severus’ own now resided. It seemed ridiculously sappy, but Severus couldn’t help wanting to cut the picture out to keep. He was just reaching for some scissors when the bell above the door rang again, making Severus jump, spilling his, thankfully, lukewarm tea all over him.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump,” Harry beamed. “Hermione is insisting that I get a bouquet to apologise to Malfoy right away and I don’t particularly want to risk pissing her off right now as this project apparently really stressed her out so I came here for help. I was thinking of asphodel, if you’ve got any in.”
“Asphodel? That is a surprising request.”
“Well, after the bouquet of incident, Narcissa thought it a good idea to send me a book on floriography and I had a quick look before coming here.”
“I suggest you give it a more thorough read before trying anything else then, unless you truly feel that sorry for the incident, since asphodel means ‘my regrets follow you to the grave’.”
“Er, yeah, that does seem a bit extreme when you put it that way.”
“May I suggest one of the following. Yellow tulips signify hope and new beginnings and are often given as a gesture of reconciliation. Pink carnations symbolize regret and a heartfelt apology, a plea for forgiveness. White hydrangeas symbolise contrition and sincere regret. Then there are purple hyacinths which symbolise regret, sorrow, and a desire to make amends for past mistakes.”
Harry looked thoughtful. “I would say carnations but I remember Aunt Petunia turning her nose up at them. Maybe the hydrangeas then. Hey, I’m surprised you’re reading the Prophet.” He lifted the paper up. “I see Rita is up to her usual antics again.”
“I am surprised that anyone even pays attention to what she says anymore.”
“Unfortunately people in the wizarding world seem as susceptible to rumour as ever,” Harry sighed, putting the paper back down on the counter. “Are you going to be ok sending it to them?”
Severus nodded and Harry grinned.
“Great.” He put a Galleon down on the counter and Severus’ eyes went wide.
“That is far too much!”
Harry just shrugged. “I am pretty sure you undercharged me for the last time so this should even it out. I guess I should be going then. See you around, Severus.”
Severus waved the man goodbye, hating that his shop felt colder with Harry gone, even with the sun finally coming out. He picked up his paper again and noticed a bunch of tiny pink flowers underneath it. Alyssum: a symbol of worthiness and grace, given as a token of honour and admiration. Pink flowers also symbolised love and affection but Severus assumed that Harry hadn’t figured that bit out, in the same way he hadn’t understood the true meaning of asphodel. He couldn’t help smiling at the fact that the message in alyssum was ‘worth beyond beauty’ and Severus quickly cast a stasis charm on the small flowers as he felt a smile come to his face.
It was a genuinely lovely gift and Severus couldn’t help wanting to send something back. It wasn’t as if the white hydrangeas would take long to put together, nor did he have any other orders stacked up. Going to his stores, Severus looked through the various blooms and foliage for something that would give just the right message, and give Harry some use of his new book. There were a few flowers that could be used to symbolise thanks but Severus opted for some deep pink gerbera daisies, tying them up with a gold bow and sending them off to the saviour. In general, gerberas symbolised innocence and purity, while pink ones had the added meaning of admiration and appreciation; all very fitting to give to the man who had helped bring peace to the world.
Severus sent off the hydrangeas as well and carried on the day as normal: drinking tea in his deserted shop while reading or listening to the radio. He had a sandwich for lunch and was just contemplating what to cook for dinner when he heard a tapping at the window. He opened it to an unknown owl that swooped in and dropped a small bouquet on the counter before flying off again. Severus could only stare in confusion at the long, fuzzy stems covered in little green balls, tied up with a silver ribbon. There was only one person it could feasibly have come from but that couldn’t be right, there had to be a mistake. Closing up the shop, Severus took the offending bouquet in hand and apparated to 12 Grimmauld Place.
“Hello, Severus,” Harry beamed, opening the door after Severus had been banging on it. “What brings you to my home?”
“Did you send this?” Severus demanded, and Harry bit his lip.
“Yeah, I did. Perhaps you had better come in.”
Severus agreed and stepped into the property he hadn’t stepped foot in for years. It held a completely different air with Harry as the owner, helped by the fact that that godawful painting had been removed, but Severus couldn’t allow himself to be distracted.
“Did you mean to send me Jerusalem Oak?” he demanded, rounding on Harry.
“Yes, did I get something wrong? I wanted to tell you your love was reciprocated.”
Severus made an aborted gesture. “What love? When did I tell you I loved you?”
Harry frowned. “The red gerberas. They mean deep love and passion, right?”
“They were pink, not red!” Severus gaped. “Pink means admiration and appreciation.”
Harry’s face fell. “Oh, so you’re not in love with me. Only Narcissa said that the red camellia was a sign of love as well.”
Severus paused. That was true, and he had brought that to the ceremony to secretly let Harry know his feelings, but that was when he thought that Harry was into men and he might have a sliver of a chance with him.
“Are you saying you don’t love me?” Harry asked, a look of sadness in his eyes that Severus hated seeing. The man had been through so much pain and suffering already, he didn’t need to feel any more.
“I don’t know if I would go so far to say love ,” Severus said; his need to protect himself warring with his need to not cause Harry any more hurt.
“Well I would,” Harry insisted, and Severus felt his jaw drop. “I’ve long since admired you for your strength and resilience during the war, and I had been trying to come up with an excuse to get in touch with you. When Hermione said that she needed a bouquet for the ribbon cutting ceremony I saw my chance and begged her to let me be the one to order it. I think she regretted that a bit afterwards but I didn’t as seeing you in that shop, without the stresses of teaching or the ravages of war around your neck, really struck me. It’s why I was flirting with you a bit in the store, although I’m not entirely sure you noticed. That threw me and I was wondering if I could drop by at some point and ask you out. Then you showed up at the ceremony looking positively gorgeous-”
“I am not gorgeous, Potter,” Severus snapped.
“You are to me,” Harry insisted, stepping up and cupping Severus’ cheek. “You are the epitome of strength, grace and fortitude to me and I swear I could get lost in the depths of your eyes sometimes. I told you your love was reciprocated but, if you don’t love me as well, let me change my message. I love you Severus Snape, and I would love the chance to show you the depth of that love, if you will let me.”
“But you aren’t even attracted to men.”
“I promise that I am attracted to you,” Harry laughed, dragging his thumb across Severus’ lips. “In fact it is taking all my restraint not to lean in and kiss you right now.”
“Prove it,” Severus challenged, just before he felt his lips covered by Harry’s warm, plump ones. His body melted at the touch, leaning into Harry’s strong frame as the young Auror’s arms wrapped around him in support. Severus’ hand came up, threading into Harry’s unruly hair as if to anchor him in place, not that Harry seemed inclined to go anywhere. The kiss showed no signs of stopping, only deepening when Severus parted his lips a fraction, and Harry took advantage of the action and dived right in. Severus moaned, pressing his rapidly growing erection against Harry’s thigh, desperate for even the slightest bit of friction.
Harry groaned, reluctantly pulling apart. “I had wanted to do this properly, to court you, you know, but this feels so damn good.”
“Bedroom,” Severus agreed. “Now.”
“You don’t need to tell me twice,” Harry grinned, lifting Severus up, causing the older man to squeak as he wrapped his legs around Harry’s waist, holding on tight. This had certainly not been in Severus’ plans when he arrived here but he wasn’t about to complain. He couldn’t be completely sure what would happen between them in the future, there were so many factors to consider even if Harry really did love him. That didn’t mean that he couldn’t enjoy this, even if it was just for one night, but he couldn’t help hoping that it really would lead to something more.