Professor Sprout waters her flowers, she has some special fertilizer. It doesn't always work. When her flowers die she throws them out. She puts them in an open field, just beyond the Forbidden forest. She says that you must take the dead plants away as soon as possible, the magic soaks into the ground and poisons the others.

Hannah Abbot was lying in the field. Surrounded by the flowers that had grown from the dead over the years she'd been at Hogwarts. She was flashing back to birds and bees, she was eleven then.

"...so am I the bird, or the bee?"

"You aren't either. You're the flower."

"That's better than being the bee. Bees sting."

"Well, sometimes it stings."

"Sexual intercourse?"

"Usually just the first time. But that's not what I meant. Sometimes love stings."

She thinks about her sometimes. Sometimes she lays and thinks you're a woman, that's not right. Sometimes she lies to herself, and sometimes she just lays. In the flowers.

She's a flower. She's the flower. Just waiting for some wizard to come pollinate. She's nothing without pollination, just a plant that dies and shrivels, nobody waters a dead flower. She's just a plant that dies and shrivels.

And that's the bee.