One:

"I'm sorry I'm late class, I had a meeting with Headmistress," Harry's introduction was cut off when he noticed something on his desk. Sure, he wasn't the most organized of professors, but didn't recall a vase of flowers right smack in the middle. He didn't know what kind of flowers were in the vase, but it was a mixture of white, light red, and dark red. He'll ask Hermione later.

"Um, right," he stuttered, shifting the vase over and setting his stuff for the class in its spot. He let his fingers drifting over the sky blue glass vase for a second. He could hear some of the girls giggling, probably understanding the meaning of the flowers. He could hear some boys snickering as well, but probably not for the same reason the girls were. Harry decided for now, the best option was to ignore the flowers' presence. He had giggly third years to teach. "Okay, today will be learning about werewolves."

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"Harry, who would have left you a bouquet of roses?" Hermione questioned, examined the roses that now rested on Harry's mantle in his private rooms. He had placed them under a preservation charm. Despite them being a 'girly' gift, he quite liked them. For some reason, they touched his heart in someway that he wasn't used to. Sure, he got admirers every day in the mail, but the fact that this actually got delivered to him meant that it was hand delivered to his classroom. He hadn't had someone that interested in him since Ginny ten years ago.

"Gee, I don't know, someone who is interested in me?" He huffed, picking at his nails so he wouldn't have to look at her face. She didn't have to worry about being single at twenty-seven, like Harry was. He didn't want to force a relationship, but maybe the flower sender could be something?

"Oh, Harry, you know I didn't mean it that way," Hermione sighed softly, moving from the flowers and walking over to Harry. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and rubbed his back. After the birth of Rose, Hermione had become more motherly than she already was. Her and Ron liked to baby Harry and liked to make sure he wasn't alone for too long. If they didn't check up on him, he would probably die of loneliness in Grimmauld Place.

Kreacher had passed a few years back and Harry didn't have the heart after to get another house elf. Plus Hermione would cut his head off if he thought of it. So Harry has been alone in his home for about five years now. Luckily, he had plenty of friends that were willing to 'be in the neighborhood' with enough dinner for two on them.

"I just wondering who spent the time to hand deliver you flowers, before your classes at that! Must be someone who knows your schedule," Harry's gut twisted at Hermione's words, knowing there was an infinite amount of people who knew his schedule. Everyone at Hogwarts, every last auror in the Ministry since they sometimes called Harry in to consult on cases. It was endless possibilities!

"And you are sure they didn't sign the note?"

"There wasn't a note at all, Hermione."

"With no note, how could you possibly understand how they meant the flowers!"

"That's why I asked you here, you are better at observing others than I am," Harry explained, letting his fingers brush over the delicate petals of the flowers. Hermione had not been able to tell him what they meant, but they were carnations. Apparently they were a very romantic flower, or something Hermione had swooned about when she first got here.

"Do you have any clue what they could mean though?" Harry asked, biting his lip. He withdrew his hand when he noticed how Hermione was looking at him.

"Well Harry, you are best friends with the Herbology expert of Hogwarts," Hermione teased, shaking her head fondly when realization popped up on Harry's face.

"Of bloody course!" Hermione grinned slightly, figuring that Harry would understand the implications of the flowers and the Herbology professor. "Neville's bound to know what these mean and I can narrow it down from there!" Hermione's grin fell, but it didn't damper her mood. It would only make the new few weeks interesting.

"Do you wanna come with me?" Hermione gave a quick nod, quickly following the brunet man from the room, the blue vase clutched in his arms. All of the students should be in their common rooms now and stay there. Luckily, there hadn't been any children like how Harry and Ron were during their time at Hogwarts. Two thirds of the famous golden trio made their way towards the Hufflepuff common rooms, though made a left down a narrow corridor, approaching a portrait of Elladora Ketteridge, the discoverer of gillyweed.

"Hello Professor Potter and friend, how may I help you?" Harry had been to the other professor's room a couple of times before. Neville was rather good company and always helped Harry focus on his grading.

"Is Neville in, if so can you tell him we have a question for him real quick?" Harry asked politely, watching her head into another portrait to see Neville and talk to him. It only took a minute before the portrait opened and the other man poked his head out. Hermione noted that he looked a bit flush and his cheeks reddened at the sight of Harry.

"Harry, Hermione, how's it going?" He asked, clearing his throat inconspicuously, at least to Harry, and moving to the side so they could enter his rooms. They reminded Harry of the Hufflepuff common room (which he had been in for the sole reason he was a professor) and Hermione of Shell Cottage and the Gryffindor common room. It was nice and cozy and had a big hearth with a warming fire. It was a big change from the Gryffindor tower.

"Rather well Neville, yourself?" Hermione hummed happily, taking a seat on his loveseat. Harry sat on the couch, fingers trembling against the vase slightly. He was really nervous to find out what the flowers meant. It would be child's play for Neville to tell him what simple carnations meant.

"Good, some kid didn't wear her earmuffs when dealing with mandrakes and I had flashbacks to second year," Neville replied, eyes focused on Hermione and not the flowers in Harry's hands, "And you Harry?"

"Um, brilliant? I got these flowers earlier and I was wondering if you could tell me their meaning?" Harry hummed softly, wanting to get right to the point. The sooner he knew the meaning behind the flowers, the sooner he could figure out what the hell he was going to do about it.

"Oh, okay," Neville mumbled, reaching for the vase so he could have a closer look. Harry reluctantly handed the flowers over, something in his gut wanting to hold them close and not let anyone touch them. Not even Hermione or Neville. The other two watched carefully as Neville pulled out three different colors from the bouquet as careful as he could. Harry admired the focus on Neville's face. It was always calming to watch Neville work with plants because he was never clumsy and always confident in his movements.

"So," Neville begun, reaching back to rub his neck before continuing, "Your 'admirer' has included three different colors of carnations, a flower of romance generally. Light and dark red and white. Light red means admiration and friendship. White means pure love and faithfulness and," Neville paused, a blush springing on his cheeks once more, "Dark red conveys deep love and affection."

Hermione smirked observing both of their reactions. Harry was bright red and staring at the flowers as if they had just proclaimed their love for him like Ginny's singing gnome in second year had. Neville was bright red in embarrassment, though Hermione was wiling to bet it was not for the same reason as Harry. She rolled her eyes fondly. Boys were so oblivious.

"Thanks Nev, hopefully it isn't one of my students," Harry snapped out of his horror and placed his head in hands at the thought of underage girls sending him a romantically inclined bouquet. Hermione was proud to note that Neville looked a bit peeved and jealous that Harry did not know it was him that sent the bouquet and the thought of someone else sending Harry flowers. This was going to be an interesting year.

Two:

Harry was not having the greatest of weeks. Twelve kids had gotten hurt in his class because of the stupid house rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. He and Draco were never this bad, were they? Not to mention it was the week they were learning about boggart. He had never had to console so many kids (mostly Hufflepuffs) in his life. He had also been laughed at when he revealed his boggart to the class. It had been him and the students had taken it as he was scared of himself and laughed like there was no tomorrow. Harry however was not as naïve anymore.

The boggart Harry was dressed how Harry dressed when he was home and had stubble and bags under his eyes. Once before he was only afraid of fear and now he was afraid of the loneliness he suffered at home. He now understood how Remus felt when his boggart of the moon had been shown to the class. Even thought of his possible admirer couldn't lift up his spirits after that class.

It was Saturday morning when the next bouquet showed up, this time in the Great Hall. Today was the Gryffindors against Slytherin match, the first game of the year, and Harry was not really feeling Quidditch, he was on his way to the hall contemplating whether or not he could avoid the game when he noticed something in his usual spot. Something bright yellow. The defense professor made his way quickly to the table to observe the flowers.

These he knew, he had planted them and maintained them in his aunt's garden for years. Tulips. Bright yellow tulips. He'd have to ask Neville the meaning when he got here. He took a seat, pulling the brown vase closer to him and blinked owlishly when a note caught his eye. He quickly swiped it up, his heart beating quickly when he saw writing on it.

Harry, I miss your smile so much. I hope these make you smile, even if just for a second.

The note was unsigned, but Harry was not surprised. He tilted the card up slightly, noticing more writing.

It also dawned on me that you would not know the meaning of the flowers, so I'll tell you from now on: yellow tulips are great for smiling

There was a small smiley face drawn next to it and Harry's heart swooned. Merlin, he was a girl now. Harry couldn't stop the smile from slipping on his face and didn't even notice Neville sitting next to him until he spoke up.

"Yellow tulips are for cheering people up," he commented, his own smile slipping on his face when all Harry did was nod, a dazed look on his face. He looked rather lovestruck. Harry couldn't keep the smile off his face for the rest of the day.

Three:

The third bouquet appeared the day before Harry was set to go to the Burrow for Christmas. He had been called up to the Headmistress' office, apparently Dumbledore wanted to speak with him. He also conversed with Snape as well for their yearly 'chit chat' that both of them really didn't enjoy, but Dumbledore had set up for them since Harry begun teaching at Hogwarts.

Harry returned to his rooms and paused at the sight of a lilac vase on his table. He quickly stepped back and looked at his portrait. It was Bowman Wright, inventor of the golden snitch (Dumbledore and McGonagall must laugh themselves to sleep every night for that one).

"Who have you allowed in my room?" He asked, almost frantically. There were only a certain amount of people who were allowed to enter his room when he wasn't there!

"I'm sorry sir, I mustn't say," Bowman replied, pretending to zip his lips. Harry looked incredulously, unbelievable.

"You are the guardian to my room and you let someone in without me here! I have a right to know," Harry argued, eyes flicking to the flowers. He could see the note buried in the petals and his fingers itched for it.

"That is true, but I am a romantic at heart," Bowman placed his hand over his heart and pretended to swoon. Harry scoffed at him and went into his room, banging the portrait shut not too nicely. Bowman never got angry with Harry slamming him, probably another reason he got this room. He approached the table carefully, eyeing the flowers.

The bouquet overall was white, petals protruding outwards and filling his room with a sweet scent. In the middle of the white petals laid a single bright pink flower of the same family. The vase was a lilac color that practically enhanced the bright white of the petals. His fingers reached forward for the note as he took a seat on the couch.

Harry, I know you would probably not appreciate a pink bouquet, but pink peonies are more romantic than white so I could not resist. Almost like how I cannot resist you when you bite your quills or when you are teaching.

Harry could feel his ears burning. So this person had seen him teach before… Merlin, please don't be one of his students… His eyes moved down to see the meaning of the flowers.

Peonies represent bashfulness, romance and are said to bring good fortune to whoever receives them. You could always use some good luck Harry. Have a good holiday.

Harry was left staring at the flowers for an amount of time that he was not sure of. It must have been hours since Ron had come through his fireplace to complained about Mrs. Weasley withholding dinner until Harry got there. Harry quickly gathered his things, including the vase, and headed through the floo. Ron, aware of the Harry's secret admirer situation and who it was, didn't even question the protective way that Harry held the vase. His best mate deserved to be happy for once.

Four:

The next present wasn't a bouquet, but a small little fish bowl placed on his desk after break, this time placed after lunch so his students wouldn't see. Harry was struck by how similar it was to Slughorn's story about the lily flower and his pet fish Francis. Harry really hoped that this flower wasn't going to turn into a fish. He couldn't even take care of himself, let alone a fish.

As he neared his desk, he breathed a sigh of relief when the flower remained a flower. He brightened up at the sight of the note and took a seat behind the desk to read it.

Harry, your mother would have been forty-eight today.

The defense professor did a quick spell to find it was indeed January 30th. His mother's birthday. Too many people knew that, it was common knowledge like December 25th was Christmas.

She sounded like a truly amazing woman, I am sorry you never got to meet her. I never got to really meet my mother either. I hope you keep this flower on your desk to remind you that she and all those you have lost are watching over you and are proud of who you have become. I sure am proud of you.

Harry was in tears by the end of the note and had to wipe them away to see the meaning at the bottom.

Water lilies represent beauty and purity

The defense professor re-read the note multiple times, glad that he did not have anymore classes for the day. He did not think he could face anyone with tear tracks on his face. They weren't sad tears, of course. No, it felt good to hear that he had made someone proud. Even if it was a person who rather hide their identity from him.

Five:

The next bouquet came of Valentine's Day. Seems his admirer was a romantic. Harry smiled at their appearance on his desk, not even caring that his students would see in a few minutes. He kept his door close so he could have time to read the note buried in the purple petals.

Harry, Happy Valentine's Day love. I haven't any right to call you that for I have been a coward, hiding behind my flowers instead of approaching you. So much for Gryffindor bravery, huh?

So his admirer was a Gryffindor? Harry wished he had time to floo Hermione and ask for her sleuthing skills.

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, I was hoping you would like to meet? During lunch time, down by the Greenhouse three? I can't hide behind flowers forever, but I hope you loved all of them anyhow. I hope once you know who I am you'll allow me to continue bringing you flowers. See you soon I hope.

There was a small heart at the end of the note and Harry's heart beat rapidly in his chest. His admirer wanted to meet him? He really needed Hermione! He casted a tempus and cursed under his breath. He only had enough time to look at the bottom of the note for the meaning before the fourth year Gryffindor and Slytherin heathens entered the room, the snakes snickering at the purple flowers on his desk.

Larkspar represents love, affection, strong attachment, lightness and pure heart. I have nothing but good intentions for you Harry, you mean the world to me.

Plus One:

The last bouquet was found on the window sill of near Greenhouse three. It was simple red and pink roses, Harry's heart beating fast as he reached for the note in the roses. He had arrived first, all the students thankfully in the Great Hall. He kept praying it was not a student that had a dream of being with the chosen one. His fingers trembled slightly as he reached for the note. He was surprised to not see the meaning on the note, only eleven words were written on the card.

Do you trust me, Harry? Close your eyes and turn around.

The scarred man let out a worried breath and slowly closed his eyes and turned on his heel. He balled his fists at his side, trying to subside his trembling. He could feel someone's eyes on him and it made him even more self-conscious. He had gotten over his body issues from his teenage years, but the after effects still showed up from time to time. The other person moved forward until they stood practically chest to chest with Harry.

Okay, not a student. Harry didn't know any students taller than him. Must be a man as well. Harry had come to terms with his sexuality long ago. He liked people. He didn't have a preference of gender.

The taller one surprised Harry by pressing their lips together. Yet Harry still didn't open his eyes. After months of flowers and loving notes, Harry trusted this stranger more than he trusted half of his 'friends' and co-workers. He reached up to wrap his arms around the other's neck, pulling him closer. The other man smelt like soil and sweat, but not the disgusting kind. No, the type that reminded Harry of hard work and quidditch practice.

Harry let out a small noise when the taller man nipped his lip and in retaliation dug his nails into the back of his neck. The other man let out a groan, backing Harry up against the wall. He usually did not like being trapped anywhere, but the weight of the other man felt like a blanket of security. Harry let his eyes slide open when the other man pulled back from their kiss, forehead rested against Harry's. His emerald eyes met familiar chocolate ones.

"Nev," Harry breathed, hand sliding around his neck to cup his jaw, his thumb brushing his cheekbone. The herbology professor turned his head to press a kiss to Harry's calloused palm. Harry had never thought it would be Neville behind the flowers, but it made sense. Neville knew about Slughorn's story and his mother and practically everything about Harry. Plus he was the only one who could sneak into Harry's room and convince Bowman not to tell Harry.

"Thirteen roses for a secret admirer and six for a need to be loved," Neville whispered, not moving his forehead from Harry's. Not even when the other man turned to look at the bouquet. Six pink roses and thirteen red.

"And the colors?" Harry questioned, turning back to look at Neville. The other man blushed and bit his lip nervously.

"I love you," Neville answered honestly.

"A little early for that don't you think, Nev?" Harry asked puzzled, scowling when Neville's lip turned into a grin.

"No you beautiful idiot, that's what the roses mean," Neville teased, letting his lips travel down to leave butterfly kisses along Harry's cheeks. The green eyed man blushed, a small smile gracing his lips as well.

"Oh," he pulled Neville back to his lips, stomach warming at how Neville grew confident the longer they kissed. He always loved Neville's confidence, no matter how short-lived it was. Harry tugged Neville closer, pouting when Neville pulled back from the kiss briefly.

"Do you like it?" Neville asked, nerves returning to his face. Harry pulled Neville back into a short lived kiss, hand on the back of Neville's neck once more.

"Never stop with the flowers," Neville beamed down at Harry, "I'll probably need to learn their meanings if I am dating a herbology professor," Harry teased, pressing a kiss to Neville's neck. He was carefully not to leave any marks. They both had classes soon. Neville snorted at Harry and tilted his chin up.

"Don't worry, I'll give you some private lessons," Neville attempted to be seductive, both of them laughing when Harry pulled a disgusted face and pushed the other professor away from him. Neville didn't allow him to get too far, wrapping him in his arms and pressing kiss all along his face, promising he would never make another joke like that again. Harry pretended to be upset for a solid three seconds before he couldn't stop smiling at Neville's kisses.

"Nah, you'll just have to keep telling me the meaning behind them," Harry grinned, lacing his fingers with Neville's as the herbology professor grabbed the vase and made their way towards Harry's classroom.

"Deal." And Neville stuck to the deal. Each week Harry had a new bouquet on his desk and his students had giggled when they snooped enough to find out that it was Neville delivering them. He took all the jokes about him being Professor Longbottom now and beamed at his flowers from his boyfriend. There was no loneliness now.

I hope you guys enjoy this one! This would have been a really good Valentine's day one, but I decided to stick with my posting schedule that is on my layout! See you guys next week!