Harry Potter, You Don’t Send Me Flowers

Title: You Don’t Send Me Flowers [Harry/Neville]
Rating/Warnings: PG for the idea of Snape sending flowers to anybody.
Summary: Harry’s got himself worked up into quite the state.
A/N: Written for Marksykins, although i’ll be damned if i can remember why.

You Don’t Send Me Flowers

Neville came in, cheeks pink from cold, to find a very angry boyfriend glowering at him.

“Just who,” Harry demanded, “is sending you roses? Is it Bill? Colin? Snape? Out with it!”

Neville remained silent as he calmly removed his coat and scarf and hung them on the sole peg by the door that wasn’t overrun by Harry’s Quidditch piffle.

“Is this your way of telling me i never get you flowers?” Harry was carrying on quite well enough on his own. “I would you know, if I thought you even wanted them, but you spend all day with flowers and you come home and complain how sick to death of them you are so there doesn’t seem to by any point…”

Neville went into the kitchen, blathering Harry following behind, and saw the ado was about a small bush of Yellow Steaming buds, which seemd to have traveled in the cold quite nicely.

“I sent them to me, in fact,” Neville finally spoke. “You’ll notice there isn’t any card?”

“I thought that was proof of the illicit nature of your affair,” Harry mumbled, looking at his feet. “I thought you were throwing me over at last.”

Neville rolled his eyes before moving to console the Boy Who Had Low Self-Image.

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