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Another day, another migraine.
Draco thought bitterly as he stepped inside his tiny office at the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures for another dreadfully dull day of proof-reading documents regarding the proper care and husbandry of hippogriffs and barghests or some other stupid magical creature he didn’t care about.
It wasn’t as if he hated his job, exactly – after all, he was well aware that he could’ve ended up in the Department of Magical Transportation (something that sounded even more dull than magical creatures), having to endure one of the Weasleys brood as his boss and having to resist the urge to bash his head against a wall because of this – but that didn’t mean that fighting for House Elves Rights were much more exciting than floo regulation.
It was just that never in a million years did he assume that – as the sole heir of the Malfoy and the Black’s family lines – would end up having to slave himself to a lowly Ministry job, having to work in a small, unassuming department such as the DRCMC.
But then again, he supposed that worst things have happened in his life before and he supposed nothing good ever came from putting too much hope in the future (he learned that the hard way, with his own past).
“Ah – Drat,” he heard a frustrated huff coming from the other end of the room, and when he turned he saw Granger hunching over the pile of papers scattered around her desk – her brows were knitted in concern whilst her feet tapped on the floor in an incessant rhythm.
Well, never in a million years did he assume that he’d be sharing an office with the Hermione Granger, either. (Least of all have her there as his keeper).
Though technically speaking, they were supposed to be just coworkers sharing a working space.
But Draco wasn’t a fool.
He was well aware that if she were to ever breathe a single word of complaint against him, he’d lose his job immediately – maybe even end up in Azkaban, if she put enough effort in her arguments.
He also knew that they were only placed together in the same working space because someone needed to keep an eye on him, considering that even though the Winzengamont had pardoned him for his acts during the war they still considered too much of a threat to just be left alone.And knowing Granger and her bossy nature, she probably volunteered just to have him under her thumb.
Surprisingly, though – Granger was actually… Nice.
It seemed that while the rest of wizarding society was watching his every move, breathing down his neck, just waiting for him to fuck up and be hauled back to Azkaban – along his father and the other convicted Death Eaters – Granger was there to just treat him as her coworker.
Which wasn’t much, but it was definitely a refuge from the sneers and angry glares that he’d often encounter when walking down the Ministry’s hallways. For the most part they ignored each other, immersed in their own work assignments, barely exchanging a word with the other, unless it was necessary.
But on some rare occasions they could even be considered sort of friends. With light-hearted banter filling their office space and passionate discussion of pointless subjects during those days.
Again, worse things have happened.
“Is there a problem?” He asked in a rare display of concern – it wasn’t like he truly cared about this job (and whatever troubles he might come across) and he was well-aware how much Granger liked to fuss over the littlest, most unassuming magical creatures – but he was feeling kinder than usual that day so he might as well indulge her a little.
“Yes," she pursed her lips, barely looking at his direction as she was too focused on her own documents. "Bees.”
There was an awkward pause, and when he realised that she wasn’t going to elaborate, he decided to speak up again.
“I don’t follow.”
“Bees, Malfoy! Several species – both muggle and magical – are endangered and at risk of extinction in less than a decade’s time. And we need to start thinking of ways to protect them. Or else the entire ecosystem will collapse.”
“Sounds dramatic.”
“It isn’t!” She thinned her lips with a frown. "Harsh winters and pesticides have been killing the wild bee population and we're in the middle of a crisis! It's quite literally our job to do something to help them along!"
"They are just insects, Granger."
“Seriously? And what makes you think insects aren't important, Malfoy? Bees are incredible pollinators! They help plants grow, breed and produce food, for other animals and for humans! Gods, maybe we should raise awareness with some projects, and educate the population over this issue… I mean just look at your, for example! Maybe we should –”
Knowing how long she could go on with her ramblings (especially those in which she tried to predict a great catastrophe), Draco merely shrugged and continued to work on his own pile of paperwork.
And sure enough, even as he settled himself comfortably on his horribly uncomfortable chair he could still hear her go on and on about how they should plan their actions for their new project.
He wished he could just ignore her and focus on his own bloody work, but it was impossible to decide which task was more daunting – the passionate bee monologue echoing by his side or the stupid regulation over pooka nails as a potion ingredient that he was currently proof-reading.
“I need somewhere with lots of open space," he heard her muttering and Draco sighed as he looked up.
To be fair, he figured that Granger was much better-looking than the pictures of pookas that he had to look at in his reports – and that was enough for him to make the decision.
And as if realising he was actually listening now, she continued a little louder. "And I’ll need a large garden – with a forested area nearby, if possible. With as many different flower and tree specimens as we can have, all pollinator-friendly, of course,” she was glaring at her reports as if they had done any crime other than show her how 'dire' her situation was. “This place needs to be far away from London's smog or any other large cities too, if possible.”
Merlin! She looked so annoyed at the poor reports that Draco had to hold in a bout of laughter that threatened to escape his throat.
But then… His brain seemed to finally process her words.
Wait a second.
A large Estate, with an extensive garden and in the countryside?
His eyes widened in horror, finding that Granger was now looking at him with a glimmer in her own eyes and a hopeful smile to her lips.
“No.”
“Malfoy, please!”
“Granger, no.”
“But the bees!”
“I don’t care about the bees! They sting, they’re messy and honey is way too overrated.”
“I thought you loved honey! You love everything sweet! Don't you remember those glazed pretzels I brought in last week?” She looked at him with the most heart wrenching puppy eyes and biting her lower lip until it looked delectably plump and reddened.
He pressed his lips into a thin line and narrowed his eyes. Yes, he fucking remembered, they were awfully good pretzels and now she was using his taste memory and pretty mouth to manipulate him!
He needed to be stronger than her charms.
“I don’t care, Granger. I’m not letting you transform my home into a bloody honey farm.”
“It’s for a good cause! And it could be a good way to pass the time, even – a hobby, if you will! You always talk about how boring work is, this will be perfect to distract you!”
“Granger, I am not going to raise bees – ever. You better give it up, witch!”
— — —
This was beyond ludicrous.
He gaped at the several dozens of beehives that were now installed throughout the Manor’s gardens, with bees soaring around the grounds and their incessant buzzing was a sore reminder that he, Draco Lucius Malfoy, was now a fucking beekeper.
Worse yet. So passionate she was for her new cause, Granger somehow managed to present an entire dissertation for the Head of the DRCMC to convince their boss that they needed an entire project dedicated for the conservation, aid and awareness of bees – and of course Draco was going to be the one leading the blasted project, despite his several objections.
And now, the opulent Malfoy Manor was rapidly turning into a bee paradise.
Granger was out in the fields, making sure that all the different species of bees were settling properly in their 'new homes' while Draco was left alone to reconsider all his life choices that ultimately culminated in him being there – raising and caring for tiny little murder bugs.
Again, this was ludicrous!
He should’ve put his foot down. He should’ve stood his ground – for once in his cursed life – and refused to accept her absurd request… But he had always been a weak man. And no amount of willpower in the world would be able to ignore the feeling of compassion and pure hope that she always managed to exude whenever she was invested in a project of her own.
But honestly, how could he resist? Granger always looked so spirited during those moments – with her beautiful curly hair puffed up like a lion’s mane and the golden flecks of her amber eyes glowing with a unique, determined fire – it made her beautiful, but also oh so incredibly infuriating.
And now he had to read a growing pile of beekeeping books that were sitting at his desk, plant some of the plant specimens that she had recommended, and try not to get stinged by the fifteen different bee species ( both magical and muggle, of course ) that were now scattered around his garden.
He hadn’t even thought about how he was going to break the news to his mother – who was currently in a self-imposed exile, living her life in a little cottage in France and Merlin knows what she’d do if she were to return and watch what has happened to her beloved garden.
Merlin, was he even allergic to their venom? He had no idea and he wasn’t willing to find out.
“Hey Malfoy! Over here!” An excited voice called for him, shaking a basket of wildflowers that she had assured him would boost the chances of the bees taking over the garden. “I think it’s time to show you the ropes. It’s simpler than what it seems.”
Draco turned to look at her approaching and he had to muffle a chuckle that bubbled through his throat, but he promptly lost that fight as soon as she stood close enough for him to scrutinise her clothes. She was dressed head to toe in a white suit and a hat with a mesh net covering her face and head, with large rubber wellies and gloves completing the look – she looked even tinier than she usually was under all that thick cloth (if that was even possible)!
Granger narrowed her eyes, and elbowed him on his ribs when she realised he was laughing at her, but it only served to make him laugh even louder. “You look ridiculous!”
“I look protected,” she flushed through the mesh covering her face.
“My mistake,” his laugh subsided, but he was still grinning like an idiot. How the fuck does she managed to look cute even in a beekeeper’s suit was beyond him – maybe all that would be worth the hassle after all? “You look lovely.”
“Well, now – No need to be jealous of my looks,” she handed him a bag that she was carrying and he eyed the contents with disgust when he realised that it was a similar, bigger suit for him to wear. Gods, karma was working quicker and quicker these days. “It’s time to meet your bees.”
“Isn’t there any charm to keep them away? Instead of… This?”
“Nope! And we wouldn’t want the Malfoy heir dying of an anaphylactic shock now, would we?”
“I guess,” he muttered, stepping inside the suit and glaring at Granger when she dared to giggle at him. “What kind of person would willingly live in the same place with stabbing hazards anyway? Will the suit even protect me if they decide to gang up on me? There's hundreds of them out there!”
"Just remember to respect them and they’ll leave you alone," she kept laughing, beckoning him to follow her through the gardens. "We wouldn't want to repeat the Buckbeak incident now, would we?"
"Oh, give me a break, Hagrid was a fool if he thought that he could bring a dangerous, large beast to a class full of thirteen year-olds and expect them all to behave. He was begging for an accident to happen."
"Alright, you may have a point. But you're not a kid anymore so don't act like one."
“Fair enough, Granger,” he rolled his eyes and kept following her, listening to the way she rambled on about the care plan for the bees he was now going to care for – or as she put it, his new housemates.
And the way she kept smiling at him was unfairly enchanting.
— — —
One month since he started that stupid project, Draco decided that he hated bees.
He hated them for several reasons – they had a distinct, sickly sweet and flowery smell in them that attacked his nostrils every time he opened one of the blasted beehives to check on them. And then, there was the sticky pollen that was slowly ruining his carpet (and his respiratory system) as it got stuck pretty much everywhere.
But worst of all, the bees just seemed to have some inexplicable personal hostility towards him. The constant buzzing of the little striped devils hammering on his ears made Draco experience an inexplicable feeling of dread and unease – probably because the insects kept trying to attack and sting him no matter what he did.
Every.
Single.
Day.
It was honestly baffling how aggressive they seemed to be. Didn’t bees die right after they laid their stinger? Were they so hell bent on hating him that they didn’t care for their own lives?
He lost count of how many near misses he had (and for some horrifying reason, they most often aimed for the eyes), but he was painfully aware of the seven times he had been stung – in the shin, in his arms, in his hands, on his ribs and on his bloody lips. If it continued to be like this, the poor sod would have to start sleeping in that bloody beekeeper suit just so that he could have some peace of mind for once .
He hated bees and the bees hated him back with vehemence.
If there was one silver lining from all that mess, however, that would be Granger.
For every sting he would receive he would bellow her name in anger – mostly to drive the point that she was directly involved with his injuries. But then she would laugh at his dramatic sighs and exasperated ramblings and his chest would tighten with a feeling he would never describe out loud and he’d just forget the points of his carefully crafted argument anyway.
And of course, she always helped him with the stings after his tirades – with a quick healing charm for the injury, followed by the dabbing of some honey (of all things) to help with the itching.
Oh well, maybe honey wasn’t as overrated as he had called earlier, considering that it was the exact same shade of her brilliant golden eyes.
They've been colleagues at the DRCMC for nearly five years now and though he had been always aware of how witty and clever she was (and even how mischievous she could be when playing pranks during coffee breaks) he never really saw her outside their tiny office.
It was truly remarkable how at ease she looked, working out in the fields, just as passionate and diligent like the bees she was trying to protect.
Now, watching her swaying gracefully around the garden in that ridiculous getup, with the bees soaring, singing and dancing around her as if she were their queen, Draco came to the most horrifying conclusion of his life.
Shite.
He is love with Granger.
A couple of bees loomed over him (as if taunting him for the epiphany he just had) but he wasn’t too bothered by them, considering he, too, was wearing the net over his face – it would take a very determined bee to be able to tear through the suit and only then would Draco have the proof that they were out to get him.
Still, he grumbled loudly enough for Granger to overhear – he couldn't help himself with the banter, after all. “Bloody menaces they all are. The Manor won’t need any security charms if I keep raising those miniature guard dogs.”
“The girls are just curious about you! You can’t blame them for being protective of their homes – it takes a lot of hard work to maintain a beehive!”
“Always a bleeding heart for the misunderstood, treacherous creatures,” he chuckled in a baritone, shaking his head. “Have you ever been stung by them? It bloody hurts!”
“I know that! There used to be lot’s of bees in Sussex, where I used to spend my summers as a kid. Every week I used to run back to my mum because I had gotten too close to a wild hive."
“And you still defend them? How very compassionate of you.”
“What can I say? I’m an awfully forgiving person,” she flashed him a grin and he just knew that she was referring to more than just bees.
Bloody hell.
He hoped honey was just as good for the heart as people say, for Draco was pretty sure he was about to have a heart attack on the spot.
One month since he started that stupid project, and Draco decided that hated bees... But maybe if they came along with Granger, they could be quite alright.
— — —
“Why the fuck do you have bees everywhere?” Theo barged into his home, looking frazzled and annoyed as he made sure to keep the door tightly shut behind him and glared at him as soon as he turned around.
“Nice to see you again, Theo,” Draco deadpanned with a small huff. “How have you been? How was America? Would you like a cuppa?” He motioned to the table he was currently sitting at, filled with bowls of strawberries, loaves of fresh bread, jams, scones and a pot of tea.
“Fine. Not nearly as rainy as Brittain. No, I don’t want bloody tea. Now let’s talk about the bees.”
“What about them?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, you wanker! Why the hell do you have a hundred bees outside your bloody home?”
“It’s part of Granger’s conservation project. I’ve been beekeeping for a couple of months now.”
“Sweet Circe, Draco. The lengths you'll go to get to a woman’s knickers are absurd.”
“What?! I’m not – I’m not trying to get Granger, you twat,” he growled while his friend tilted his head with a smirk “Why are you here anyway – And why do you look like you just ran a fucking marathon?”
“I’m here to visit a good friend,” Theo sniffed dramatically, falling over the seat beside him. “But then I was attacked by those bugs. The tiny bastards almost poked me in the eye!”
“They don’t sting unless they are feeling threatened,” he jumped to their defence without a thought. Only he was allowed to call the bees tiny bastards.
“Keep saying that until the day they kill you in your sleep, mate... Anyway, now that I’m back in town, won’t you join me for an outing? I’ve missed the English pubs the most.”
“Can’t. I’m working. Granger’s in the back garden right now, and I’m going to help her with the honey harvest and processing.”
“Wait, really?" He looked at him puzzled and even a little offended as he frowned. "It isn’t the first time I’ve asked to ditch work and it used to be fine before.”
“Really – So unless you’re here to help me out, I’m gonna have to ask you to return another day.”
Before he could retort Draco’s sharp dismissal, the door that led to the gardens swung open, letting Granger inside with a large basket filled with jars of honey and boxes of honeycombs propped at her hip, placing them at the table, next to the other foods.
Theo started laughing like an idiot at the sight of the witch in the beekeeper suit and Draco had to gather an immeasurable amount of self-restraint not to strangle him in front of her, but for her part, Granger didn't seem to mind his blatant insolence.
“I didn’t know you were expecting company,” she started with a polite smile, moving to the corner of the kitchen and stepping out of the suit, setting it aside to be more comfortable in her casual clothes – and making Theo promptly shut up as he gaped at the gorgeous woman.
“I wasn’t. This is Theo Nott, a friend,” She was looking at him carefully, and only then did Draco realise that they probably never properly met each other until then. “Please ignore the fact that he’s a mannerless troglodyte.”
"Well, pleased to meet you, Theo. Would you like to try some of the honey?" She offered him one of the fresh jars, but the wizard refused a bit too quickly, claiming he wasn’t interested in ‘processed insect vomit.’
(Gods – The wanker could make the most innocent things look hideous in just a couple of words).
Granger however, just laughed and shrugged off his snark (and even agreed with him for the science under his statement) and sat on the large table next to Draco. With a glint in her eyes, she grabbed one of the strawberries in the bowl and dipped it into the fresh pot honey sitting at the centre.
Draco gulped at the sight, trying his hardest not to stare at her full, delectable lips, but failing miserably so. Theo was suspiciously quiet all of a sudden. And after a bite, Granger started to speak again, with her business-like tone that brought all the attention to herself.
"I've spoken to Hagrid and he agreed to have one of us do an educational lecture at Hogwarts," she kept talking, oblivious to the torture she was putting Draco through. “And Luna wants to start a colony in her own home, so I’ll probably come over to hers later in the week. Next week I’ll talk to Neville and see if he’d be interested in caring for a couple of bees to help out his crops.”
She took another bite of the honey-covered strawberry, letting some of it ooze down her chin, and Draco was sure he was going to have a heart attack right on the spot. Theo wasn't looking much better, gaping at her like a startled, extremely red fish.
“Oh, and I’ve started the report already. I don’t want to sound
too
optimistic, but it seems that there’s a growing interest in our project,” she beamed with pride, and Draco was truly happy that things were starting to work out like she wanted – but God damn it.
She was now using her finger to scrape some of the leftover honey from the jar and if his trousers weren’t tight enough before, now they definitely were.
“Hey, Granger, teach me how to set up one of those in my Estate, will you?” Theo asked breathlessly, after clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably under the table. “I’m actually very interested in the project – The bees have to be saved. The poor things!”
Draco wanted to strangle the mousy little bastard for this yet again. He clearly didn’t give a rat’s arse about the bees – he just wanted to snatch Granger for himself. But her smile grew so wide and brilliant at his request that it’d be cruel for him to throttle Theo's plans and end up spoiling her glee as collateral damage.
But well – maybe he could try something different, though.
“Actually, maybe I should be the one to set up the hives there. Considering I’ve been in Nott Manor just as much as I’ve been in my own home.”
Theo narrowed his eyes at him, displeased by his meddling, but aware that he couldn’t back down now that he had shown interest – as he, too, wouldn't want to make a bad impression on Granger.
“We’d also appreciate a hefty donation,” Draco added through gritted teeth. “For the bees, of course.”
“A… Donation? Well, of course. Anything for the bees,” he glared daggers at his friend, who seemed unimpressed – and completely smug all the same.
— — —
One rainy morning, Granger was showing him how to make homemade honeybuns in his ( now decidedly messy ) kitchen.
He knew it’d be useless to propose that they could just use magic – or better yet, ask for the House Elves to make them – considering how much Granger valued the artistry of manual labour.
At least the cold meant that the bees would stay huddled together in their temperature-charmed beehives, instead of bothering him while he worked.
To be fair, he didn’t mind the craftsmanship either... Not when Granger showed up in an apron and her hair arranged in a french braid, rambling about work, the bees, and new recipes involving honey that she had researched all night that she wanted to give it a try.
During the initial phases of the project, they didn’t really expect to do anything besides raise and breed a bunch of bees in a protected area – maybe even add some educational programs and organise fundraisers for the cause, too. But as the weeks went by and the storage room in the Manor kept getting crowded with jars and buckets of honey, Granger came up with the idea of actually using the goods they were producing.
Now they donated the honey, honeycombs, beeswax, potions, and mead they produced for the small shops and marketplaces around Wiltshire and nearby villages. He never imagined, not even once, that his life would end up like the way it did – but how could he not feel pride in his labour when he started to be referred to as the nice Beekeeper Guy instead of the ruined Death Eater by the villagers?
“Keep kneading the dough like that… Just a little bit more. Here, let me –” she reached over, settling her hands on top of his to correct the way he handled the dough. And bloody hell, if the proximity didn't allow him to notice that he was more than a head taller than her! That fact alone served to make his heart quicken inside his ribcage – and coupled with the way she'd fit so perfectly in his arms, Draco was sure he'd pass out here and there. “Use the heel of your hand rather than your fingertips.”
She paused, and her breath seemed to hitch for a moment or two. Her gaze was fixed in their hands and he couldn’t help but stare at them too.
Her hands were just so much… Smaller than his – And she probably used some sort of salve or lotion, because although his hands were calloused and rough from all the months of hard work he had been put through, hers still looked so very soft and delicate.
“You have – Very large hands,” she blurted out, and though she ducked her head as soon as she said it, Draco knew enough of her mannerisms to tell that she was flustered.
Merlin knows what was going on in that pretty head of hers.
“Erhm… Now we let the dough rest for a while,” she cleared her throat, putting the kneaded dough aside and moving to the other side of the kitchen to grab another bowl and the rest of the ingredients. “So let’s move on to the filling, shall we?”
It took an immense amount of willpower not to use his aforementioned very large hands to grab her by the waist and pull her close to him again -- rest his chin on the top of her head and feel how soft she was. Maybe move his very large hands down her waist, lower and lower until he grabbed her –
There was a nondescript sound escaping from his throat that Granger thankfully hadn’t heard (or if she did, she didn’t acknowledge it) and he rapidly shook his head, willing those intrusive thoughts to stay away.
Oh bugger.
Granger would be the death of him one of these days.
— — —
It was a scorching hot summer day, but Draco wasn’t courageous enough to ditch the stuffy beekeeper suit and face the bees with nothing but a net covering his face (like Granger was doing).
As soon as the days started to warm up, the witch stopped bothering with the suit altogether – walking around the garden and near the hives with nothing but a flimsy summer dress to protect her from the insects, claiming that she needed to be closer to the bees for them to trust her.
How could she be so unbothered by all the little creatures crawling around her hair, landing on her hands and arms was beyond him, but it did serve to paint a rather ethereal scene in the middle of his garden. She was like a wood-nymph dancing around in her element.
Draco directed his attention back to the hives, waving his wand and casting a charm for them to relax and not bother him while he worked. He removed the top of each hive, gently removing the bees so that he could take the frames filled with honey and bring them back to his work station.
Once back inside, the first thing he always did was get rid of the suit, finally able to breathe properly without feeling like he’d suffocate from the heat. He rolled up his sleeves for good measure, before taking his knife and starting working on removing all the wax-caps, exposing the golden honey and setting it into the extractor, cranking the lever and letting the honey ooze down to the bucket collecting all of his (and the bees) work.
He used a clean rag to wipe off the sweat of his brow, watching the tantalising honey fill the buckets to the brim. He couldn’t help himself when he reached over with the back of his knife to gather some of the sweet, raw honey to have a taste, smiling at the sweetness he quite enjoyed – easily the best part of that job.
It was a process he had done a hundred times by now, relying entirely on muscle memory for the harvest and letting his mind wander around freely with thoughts of pretty witches in sundresses vouching for the goodness of bees.
He could barely hear the soft footsteps approaching him from behind, but they were enough to make him very aware of the witch that was now standing on the doorframe, watching him intently with a bated breath.
“See something you like, Granger?” He couldn’t help but tease her a little, as he turned around to properly look at her.
If she was startled, she didn’t show it. “Maybe…” She had the gall to giggle, but then she seemed to focus her attention on a specific spot on his face. “Oh, you have a bit of honey in your…” she continued, pointing at his chin, but he couldn’t quite locate the place she was referring to.
“Here, let me help you,” she approached with a devious smirk, getting on the tips of her feet and licking him on his jaw, at the corner of his lips – just shy from actually touching them.
That minx.
He needed to gather all his knowledge in Occlumency not to flush like a teenager at the mere touch of her skin, but he noticed that when she leant back, Granger was flushing, with the most dopey smile on her face. He decided he quite liked that look on her – thought there was something that could definitely improve their afternoon even further.
“Actually, I think you have some honey on your face too,” it was his turn to mutter in a low voice, a little bit breathless.
They had been in this game of lowkey flirting and veiled sexual tension since her off comment about his hands, weeks earlier. And now Draco spent nearly every night thinking about Granger and her own hands around him and it was driving him crazy.
It was comforting to know that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
“Where?” She purred back at him, just as he moved his hand to gather a large dollop of honey from the bucket on his thumb, gently swiping it over her plump lips.
“Here,” he muttered, before swooping down to capture her lips in a passionate kiss.
— — —
“So, were you going to hide Granger from us forever?” Theo asked him during their weekly meetup.
The group of former Slytherins had already discussed all about quidditch and the stuffy happenings of the pureblooded society and now they were delving into businesses talk – which is what led Blaise to ask him how the project was doing and Theo moan endlessly about how he was ‘tricked’ by Draco (even though he clearly fucking loved the honey he produced).
“Honestly, so many years working together and not once did you mention how hot she was! I feel robbed!”
It had been a couple of years since they started the (now very successful) conservation project and Theo was still salty over the fact that Draco ‘ruined his chances at wooing Granger’ (as if that would ever have happened).
“Your loss, prick,” he rolled his eyes at the affronted face his friend responded with. And thought the atmosphere was light-hearted, he added with every bit of conviction. “You better back off now. She’s mine.”
His.
Just as much as he was hers.
Sometimes he couldn’t even believe that they were actually together, even after a year of dating. It felt like yesterday the day he took her on their first official date, away from the bees for once and into the very public wizarding streets – ‘Shaking the Entire Wizarding Society to its Core’ as Rita Skeeter had kindly put it on the Daily Prophet when they had been caught snogging in Diagon Alley when they thought they were alone.
He didn’t even notice how widely he was grinning until the others felt the need to point out just how much he had softened up because of Granger.
“Completely whipped that one,” Blaise motioned to the others with a taunting smirk, breaking him from his thoughts, but Draco didn’t dignify himself to rise to the bait.
“Sweet Circe,” Pansy giggled in turn. “Invite us to the wedding will ya? Just don’t use your gardens for the ceremony or else the bees will completely ruin the mood with their buzzing.”
“Not to mention all the stings!” Daphne added.
“As if I’d ever let you lot harm my bees,” he scoffed at the group. But their collective teasing wasn’t enough to completely erase his dopey grin. “We’ll just have to think of somewhere else.”
“Or force everyone to attend wearing those ugly suits.”
“Can you imagine the scene?” Theo barked out. “It’d be hilarious!”
Merlin, he could actually imagine the scene – he could easily picture the beehives decorated with the most luxurious red and gold linen that money could buy, with the bees rejoicing around among the guests, acting as the tiniest, cutest bridesmaids possible.
And Hermione standing by the altar – by his side – muttering the incantations, with their hands clasped together and promising her eternal love and devotion to him (and to their bees, of course).
It'd be truly a captivating sight, that he prayed he'd get to see in the near future.
— — —
When he stepped inside his tiny office at DRCMC, he saw his girlfriend hunched over her desk again, with a worried frown on her face, biting down the end of a quill and tapping her shoes on the floor. He almost chuckled at the familiar sight – almost nostalgic, in a way.
“Hello, sweetness,” he announced his presence, offering her one of the glazed pretzels he had bought on the way to their shared office. He couldn’t help but feel his chest tightening when she smiled so brilliantly at him, leaving the paperwork behind. “Got you some coffee and pretzels.”
“Ah – Thank you!” She skipped her way over to him, getting on the tips of her toes to press her lips on his, in a soft and chaste kiss. “You’re the best!”
He smiled at her enthusiasm – he never met anyone that could smile so widely so early in the morning, but then again, he never met someone as energetic as Hermione before – and he was even including the dutiful worker bees, too. “Now, will you tell me what was with that frown earlier?”
“Oh!” She looked over to her desk, biting her lower lip again, with her hands now clasped together in a rare show of hesitation. “Well – I’ve just read the report on the bowtruckle population…”
Oh.
“And their habitat has been diminishing because of muggle’s growing urbanisation, and with all the predatory chopping of the trees for wand making, their numbers have been rapidly declining…”
Oh no.
"Which is bad, given how they are an integral part of our ecosystem, you know?"
Not this again.
“And I was trying to think of a way to create a new space for them to thrive in," she looked at him in the eyes, with a smirk in her lips – she knew exactly the effect she had on him. "Preferably somewhere with a vast array of trees and natural pollinators for them to interact with..."
God damnit.
“Just tell me if they have any stingers,” he sighed in defeat, knowing full well that now he was going to be a bloody bowtruckle keeper.