"Ummm," Q rubs his chin, thinking that a house elf would fit right in in Margate. "Have you talked to Professor McGonagall about it?"
"And here was me forgetting," Q snorts. "Perhaps when it's really, really necessary, I'll come out."
Q flushes. He hadn't been so much admiring the chair as the skill apparent in the spell(s) cast on it. He pales at Severus' request, hesitates, then sighs. "If I turn into a rosebush, please remember to water me," he asks plaintively. He sits gingerly on the very edge of the chair, muscles tensed and shield spell on full.
"I can see where the appeal would increase with the dark," he grins (almost thoughtfully). "No," he explains absently. "Just that chaos is randomness to the ultimate degree."