A/n: Written for my wonderful friend Penguindreams, who correctly guessed that I'd written Trust in Hope when it first posted anonymously in last year's Smoochfest. She guessed it from two words. 'Fat bees'. Her request was for some fat bees, and some beekeeper fic with honey, a sting or two, Summer, heat and warmth. And lots of fluff. I hope you like it, bb. And I'm sorry that it took so long! :) Thanks to birdsofshore for a quick pre-read: any mistakes are all my own.

Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters are the property of JK Rowling et al.

Title taken from the poem Song by DH Lawrence:

Love has crept into her sealed heart
As a field bee, black and amber,
Breaks from the winter-cell, to clamber
Up the warm grass where the sunbeams start.

[...]

Love flies delighted in her voice:
The hum of his glittering, drunken wings
Sets quivering with music the little things
That she says, and her simple words rejoice.

Love Flies Delighted

Draco sat back, drowsy from the heat. The deck chair was comfortable enough, and he felt the warmth of the sun as it sank deep into his body, all the way, he thought, to the bone. The air was filled with the sound of a lazy breeze in the trees, the odd scratching chicken, and the hum of bees, dipping from one flower to the another on translucent wings. Draco watched a particularly fat bee as it made its way around the garden, following no discernible pattern but looking purposeful nonetheless. Surrounded by sweet-smelling flowers, Draco could admit, to himself at least, that he did indeed love this garden. His book lay forgotten across his chest, the archaic phrasing and lilting words of Shakespeare having already lulled him to a state of near-sleep on this peaceful summer's day.

Inevitably, Draco's eyes drifted shut, and he resigned himself to a mid-afternoon nap. His last thought as he drifted off was that he loved Saturdays. In his slumber, Draco could still feel the warmth of the sun, and the soft sound of the bee remained at the edge of his consciousness. In that state halfway between waking and sleeping, the sound of the bee grew from background noise to a whining roar which eventually shook Draco from sleep entirely.

Draco squinted into the sun and sat up. He was definitely awake, and he could see the silhouette of a man carrying... something, growing ever larger as it approached.

"What is that?" asked Draco, his voice rising in volume the closer Harry got to him. Draco blinked, not quite believing his eyes, then jumped up from the canvas chair, and took a step back. Harry was walking towards him, bearing a small branch, at the end of which was a noisy and swirling mass of small yellow and black bodies.

"It's a swarm," said Harry. "I just found it. Isn't it wonderful?" Draco eyed the buzzing bees, too numerous to count.

"Wonderful?" I hardly think so. And... wait, you don't even have a Shield Charm up? What the—"

"Oh, don't worry, they're harmless."

"Harmless? You've got a swarm of bees at the end of a stick and they're harmless?"

"Oh yes. I've been thinking about keeping bees for a while, you know that. These are perfect." Draco thought back to the pile of books on Harry's side of the bed: Charms and Bees: a Guide to Magical Beekeeping; The Hive and the Honey-Bee; The Wizard's Guide to Beekeeping. But Harry had been reading them for months now, and Draco had thought that it was all just a bit of fantasy."I'll just set these down, and then I can get started on the hive," Harry continued, his voice alive with enthusiasm. "I think I'll go for a Smith hive. And don't worry, I'll put a Shield Charm on them now: I don't want any of these beauties getting away."

"You're serious about this?" Draco stared at Harry, and then at the swarm of bees. He took another step back.

"What? Yes, of course," answered Harry. He busied himself with lowering the branch, leaving it levitating slightly. The bees buzzed around within the confines of a Shield Charm, an unlikely bauble at the end of the branch. Draco watched as Harry cleared a space next to his greenhouse, moving the wood there up into the air, muttering as he did so until it became a neat, white hive. Harry opened it up, pulling out the sections and running his hands over them while nodding. "Perfect," he said. He looked up at Draco, a smile lighting up his face. "I'm going to be a beekeeper!" he said. His face fell a little at Draco's continuing frown. "This can't be a surprise, you knew that I wanted to do this."

"Yes, but I thought, I don't know... I thought that I might have a bit more warning. And that you might buy the bees or something."

"Well I was planning on doing it that way, but then I found these lovelies on my walk this morning."

Lovelies? All Draco could see was a venomous mass of trouble. But he knew, from bitter experience, that once Harry had fixed on an idea, there was no stopping him. "Well, just be careful."

"Bee careful?" A smile lit Harry's face, and Draco sighed.

"You know what I mean," he said. "Bees sting."

"Well, Mr Nearly-Finished-Your-Healer-Training, what you don't know is that when bees swarm they fill themselves with honey to help fill their new honeycombs, and they're actually quite docile as a result. And yes I've checked, and there is lots of honey here. Look," Harry held his wand up and swished it in a complicated shape, and a golden glow briefly lit the space around the swarm. "See."

"Yes, yes," said Draco. "Very impressive, Mr Saved-the-World-then-Quit-the-Aurors-to-Become-Sel f-Sufficient."

"I know!" Harry's smile didn't falter in its eagerness. "Now we can have honey, too." Draco shook his head, but smiled. Harry had been miserable in Auror training, and Draco was the first to admit that quitting had been the best thing he'd done: not least because it had brought him to his little Hertfordshire village, and the tiny cottage adjoining his own home – a larger house having been split, at some point in the past, into two. He had long forgiven Pansy for 'accidentally' making Harry his neighbour. It turned out that she had a good deal more foresight than either Harry or Draco.

They had fought endlessly over the boundary between their two little gardens, old insults repeated and wounds reopened, until one day the fighting had turned into something else and before they'd known it they were kissing, hot mouths desperate for more, then tearing each other's clothes off. Suddenly years of animosity had made sense, as they pushed and they pulled, wanting, needing to be close, to ride out the wave of passion with each other.

The next morning Harry had made Draco a mushroom omelette that had been good enough for Draco to declare, much to his embarrassment, that he never wanted Harry to leave. In his enthusiasm, Draco had then given what he judged to be the best blow job of his life, after which Harry hadn't been capable of saying anything at all. It hadn't been long before they knocked their cottages back into one, and now shared a lovely big garden, in which Harry grew potatoes and carrots, beans and tomatoes, along with many other vegetables and fruit too - there were redcurrants and gooseberries, raspberries and strawberries, and a whole orchard of apples, pears and plums through a gate beyond their garden.

There were chickens, too, which Draco tolerated, even though they were noisy and had pecked away the entirety of what had been his garden, because he liked Harry's omelettes so much. Or rather, as he could admit to himself in honest moments, just because he liked Harry so much. And now he could see that it would be the same with the bees. He sighed again.

"You don't need any help, do you?" asked Draco, eyeing up the buzzing mass warily, and Harry paused, a wooden frame still held up ready for examination.

"Help. You're offering help?"

"I'm not totally useless, you know!"

"I know, but honestly... there isn't much to do. Go back to your book and I'll show you around the hive when I've finished."

Although Draco hadn't really wanted to help, he had to shrug off a twinge of sadness at Harry's quick dismissal. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but if Harry wanted him to help, Draco would probably drop anything just to get that warm smile. Or the even warmer touch that came with it. And sometimes, as he read about muscles and bones, curses and cures, Draco felt a little useless in comparison to Harry. It was always Harry who tended the garden, who cooked delicious meal after delicious meal. Harry used his bare hands – in preference to magic most of the time – to build their lives around them.

Draco sank back down and picked up his book, but kept an eye on the bees and Harry. After another five minutes of watching Harry examine wooden frames, the warmth of the day had filled him again, and Draco closed his eyes and relaxed back into the deck chair. The droning hum wasn't that annoying, after all, and Draco felt himself slipping into sleep.

His dreams were a pleasant mix of sun and the reaching, grasping tendril of a climbing rose. He stood at the foot of a trellis, and climbed up to find his Harry. A bee buzzed past him, as small and purposeful as Mab herself, then landed on his arm. Draco woke suddenly: at first he thought with a shout, but then he realised that it was not him but Harry who had cried out.

After blinking in the bright sun for a second, Draco turned to see Harry with his hands over his face. His mind made a quick connection and Draco hauled himself out of the deck chair, his chest tight with worry about Harry.

"What have you done now, you idiot?" It only took a few steps to close the distance between them, but to Draco it wasn't soon enough.

"I got stung. But I'd rather you didn't gloat quite yet."

"What happened the Shield Charm?" A flash of irritation at Harry's ongoing foolhardiness drove Draco to reach out for Harry's arm a little too abruptly. Harry tensed, his arm remaining over his face, his usual laughing state turned to raised shoulders and a body half turned away.

Draco took a deep breath. "I'm not going to hurt you." Keeping his voice as calm as he would if speaking to a Hippogriff, Draco added, "Let me help you." He tried again and this time Harry let Draco's fingers rest on on his arm. Slowly, he allowed Draco to push his arm down, revealing a swollen face.

A memory swam up, through Draco's gentle worry for Harry, of another time he'd seen his face like this. An old ache filled him; this time, though, he could help. Softly, Draco touched the site of the sting. "You and your hobbies," he said. "Always doing it the hard way."

Harry's eyes were steadfast as they regarded him. "I know," he said through swollen lips. "It's no fun, otherwise."

"Fun?" Draco raised an eyebrow. He had already drawn his wand, and began to pass it over Harry's face. "You call this fun?" The crackle of magic filled the air, competing with the soft droning still coming from the hive. A rich blue light, like a peacock's feathers, travelled in winding lines over Harry's skin. It formed a net, and then began to tighten. "I just need to draw the poison out," murmured Draco, as he moved his wand in small tugs.

Harry's eyes began to water, but he kept still. Draco's free hand went to Harry's side, where his fingers slipped into Harry's and gave a reassuring squeeze. The network of magical lines were now a golden green in the centre, and with one last flick of his wand, Draco removed the spell. Harry reached up to touch his face, then winced. It was still swollen and sore

"I've still got to dampen down your body's reaction." Draco removed Harry's hand. "Always so impatient."

"You try being patient when your face looks like this. It hurts."

Draco shook his head. "I'd never be so stupid as to mess around with bees."

"It can happen by accident, you know."

"I know. Now shush, I have to work out how to do this." Draco frowned as he considered the options. He had read up on bees and their venom as soon as Harry had started amassing his little collection of books on beekeeping.

"You're not exactly inspiring confidence, what with the hesitation and pained look."

"Shh, I'm concentrating." Draco ran through his choices one more time, then smiled as he found the perfect solution. He could use his own magic to soothe Harry, not just a spell. "Close your eyes," Draco said. Harry complied immediately, and Draco's smile broadened. For all Harry's teasing and his own griping, Draco knew that they trusted each other.

He whispered the words for a calming spell that should counter Harry's physical reaction to the sting, but directed his wand at his own lips. Then, gently and with the buzz of bees and the scratching and clucking of hens in the air, he leant forward and kissed Harry. A warm glow grew between them, and Draco felt Harry's mouth soften. Tentatively at first, he kissed, feeling the tingle of the spell passing between them. Harry's hand reached up to touch Draco's jaw and the kiss grew more heated.

Pulling back, Draco cleared his throat. "Patience. Let me check your face."

"It's fine now," said Harry. The swelling had subsided, but Draco ran a quick diagnostic spell over Harry's skin anyway. "Stop fussing, and kiss me again."

Draco was happy to cast his wand aside and do just as Harry asked.

The sun was hot, the garden secluded. Once a proper Shield Charm was cast, Draco made sure to check that no other part of Harry's body was in need of medical attention.

Yellow and black, the bees began to build their hive.

oOo

Bright sunlight filled the kitchen. Draco lifted his head from the Daily Prophet when Harry put an open jar of pale gold down in front of him.

"Our own honey."

"It's very gracious of you to include me, but it's all your own work, Harry."

"You say that," Harry slid onto Draco's lap, "but you've kissed away so many stings."

Draco blushed, because he knew that no other Healer would treat a sting in quite that manner. But any thoughts of improper practice were forgotten as Harry slid his warm hand under Draco's shirt. With his other hand, he dipped a finger into the jar, then popped it into his own mouth. Harry's lips formed an 'O' around his finger as he sucked. Harry shifted on Draco's lap, and raised his eyebrows.

"Would you like some?" Light filled Harry's eyes as Draco nodded wordlessly.

His first taste of honey was on Harry's lips; sweet, warm and sticky. Draco savoured the subtle flavours of sunshine and bees. He savoured the unique smokiness that was Harry; he savoured the love that had somehow crept into his heart, filling it with the delighted hum of bees.