Severus watched the newly Apparated couple bump awkwardly into each other before the young man pulled a bouquet out of thin air.
"Protea cynaroides," he murmured, "otherwise known sugar—"
"What does it mean?" Harry interrupted.
Severus, his gaze intent upon Lily Luna and her suitor, raised an eyebrow in surprise. Lower that hand another inch, young man, and you shall lose it. "It means 'hope', 'change', and 'transformation'."
"I see," Harry replied, his hands gripping the windowsill. "I think I can guess the kind of change he wants. Come on."
Severus snorted and followed Harry, who was soon clapping a jovial, none-too-gentle hand upon the boy's back.
"How are you this evening, Bernard?"
"Er, very well, Mr. Potter."
"Dad," said Lily Luna, a tad warily.
"Oh, er, hi. I mean, Snape. I mean—"
"Do you?" Severus asked. "Mean something, that is? If so, what?"
"Thank you for the flowers, Bernard. Goodnight."
"Be inside in a moment, sweetheart," Harry called after Lily Luna. "That was quite a bouquet, Bernard. Severus here knows all about flower meanings, don't you?"
"Yes," Severus said, not quite impassively regarding the young man. "All. About. Them."
"I, er, I, I . . . I see!"
"See that you don't, Bernard," Severus told him, turning on his heel and walking up the lane.
Lily Luna, arms folded, stood glaring at him in the doorway. Unrepentant, Severus mock-glared back as Bernard's voice carried.
"What is it I'm, er, not supposed to see?"
"Anything," retorted Harry, slamming shut the gate before hurrying up the lane after them.
"Oh, both of you are impossible!" Lily Luna insisted, as they joined her inside. "I wasn't doing anything wrong!"
"You accepted his—"
"Flowers, not his cock!" interrupted Lily Luna.
Severus' mouth twitched. "Language."
"She got it right. She just better not be getting 'it', at all!"
"I am standing right here!" Lily Luna shouted. "I am sixteen! I can have all the cock I want!"
Severus put a restraining hand on Harry's arm. "You're turning funny colours. Allow me."
Taking a deep breath, Harry nodded.
To Lily Luna, Severus said, "You are fifteen years and eight months old, and you were out almost two hours after curfew—but yes, you may have all the 'cock' you want."
Lily Luna's eyes widened, and she dropped the bouquet. "No! It's not Sheldon's time!"
"You never should have named him, you know. Now, follow me."
"That smells good. Have the boys returned? Which of them brewed it?"
"I'll just have it back then," Harry said, reaching for the mug.
A thick jet of ink spun around the mug, resolving itself into the phrase, "This is MY mug," and Harry pulled back his hand and leant against the worktop. "Git."
Severus moved to stand with Harry, taking note of the flowers in the vase behind him. "She's fine. I killed it. She's plucking it. Given the spell I cast, she'll be knee-deep in cock feathers before she's done."
"Poor Sheldon," said Harry, shaking his head. "You're really quite mean. I love it."
"'It'?" Severus asked, rather shamelessly.
"I love you." Harry pressed his side into Severus'. "You know that."
Severus took a long, deep, smiling sip of his excellent coffee and replied, "I do."