A/N: Written for Hogwarts assignment 8 - Celtic Studies: task 8 - Use the language of flowers as inspiration.
I've really leaned back into the thing of tulips being Albus and Scorpius' thing for some reason.
Word count: 386
Albus glanced up from his book as the fire roared to life and Scorpius tumbled out a moment later. He smiled as he set the book to the side, but a split second later, he raised an eyebrow as he noticed the yellow tulips in his husband's hand.
"What are those for?" Albus asked as Scorpius bounced over to him, vibrating enthusiasm.
He toppled onto the couch and nearly squashed the flowers between them, but he was still nothing but smiles as he pushed against Albus to sit himself back up again.
"I was talking to Rose today, and she told me that Muggles have this thing called the language of flowers. Apparently, they used to send bouquets to each other where each of the flowers meant something. A whole language without words. Isn't that cool?"
Truth be told, Albus didn't care much about what Muggles did with flowers, but he listened to Scorpius anyway. They'd been apart all day, and these moments in the evening when they could sit close and just talk were some of Albus' favourite.
"And now you have tulips…" Albus said, prompting Scorpius to continue.
"Of course. Tulips are our special flowers, right? So the second Rose said all of that flower language stuff, I had to look them up, and Albus, it's amazing! Each colour of tulip means something different, so you can say a lot with tulips alone. Red tulips are deep love, pink ones are happiness, and so on."
"What do the yellow ones mean then?" Albus asked, rubbing the petals of one of them softly between his fingers.
Scorpius' smile turned into a smirk, and Albus froze, his gaze narrowing.
"A cheery disposition and cheerful thoughts," Scorpius declared brightly. "I thought you could use that more than anything."
Albus let out a disgruntled huff of air and shoved at Scorpius' shoulder. Scorpius collapsed against the sofa cushions with a burst of laughter. The flowers were starting to droop a bit in his grip and could have used some water, but Albus refused to suggest it on principle.
He sulked, but Scorpius didn't let that bother him as he leaned back in to place a loud kiss to Albus' cheek.
"Now more than ever," he added, rushing off to put the flowers in water before Albus could protest.