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Dianthus Stories	By : icewomin Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 3134 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Anything
you recognize belongs to someone else, namely, JK Rowling. Specifically, elements of
the HP universe, characters from same.
Sadly, I have no hope of publishing this story outside the fan fiction base, although I hope you enjoy the plot and the original
characters I�ve created. Feel free to
give me critical feedback, including flames and harsh criticism. I may delete it afterward, so as to reduce my
personal embarrassment, but I do promise to read it and incorporate it if I
feel it improves the story.

This
is Chapter One. Smut begins in Chapter Twenty
Six, so if you�re only looking for that, feel free to skip ahead. Be warned that you may be confused about some
of the stuff in those later chapters if you don�t stick it out.

Chapter One �
Confirmation

In the largest
bedroom of a large farmhouse, a tiny girl sat, very still, in a chair facing a
large mirrored vanity. Only the swing of
her feet, which did not quite reach the floor, betrayed her impatience. She appeared to be waiting for something,
something that was not happening fast enough.
�Come on, now,� she muttered.
�I�m sorry, all right? I�m
sorry!� She waited another long moment,
to no avail. The little girl gazed into
the mirror through narrowed eyes, and pursed her lips. �All right, then, I�ll have to go into
Grandpa�s room, I suppose.� She rose
from her chair and had turned halfway toward the bedroom door before another
voice spoke.

�Dianthus,� said
the mirror, irritably. �Get back here!�

The little girl
bit her lower lip to keep herself from smiling as she turned back to face the
vanity. �Are you quite certain you
forgive me?� she asked, in her very sweetest voice.

�Just don�t call
me a bossy old biddy again, all right?� sighed the
mirror.

�Okay,� said
Dianthus at once, and she sat back down.
�Now, will you please tell me how to curl my hair?� She folded her hands in her lap and waited,
expectantly.

The mirror paused,
and seemed to consider the request.
Dianthus fidgeted in her chair as the silence lengthened, and then
looked around the room. Midland lace
curtains hung in the windows, and the bedspread was a fusion of tuberoses and
ruffles. Even the wallpaper had a tiny
floral pattern running through it. The
overall effect was soft and feminine, and the first time she had seen it, the
entire setup had made her ill. But now
that she was ten, and had been living with her grandfather for close to five
years, she felt she had gotten used to it.
Perhaps, too (although she�d never admit it), she had become just a
little bit more feminine herself.

�Are you going to
pay attention?� the mirror demanded, breaking Dianthus out of her reverie. �I am giving you explicit instructions � and
against my better judgment, mind � on how to curl your hair with your grandmother�s
wand. Now, if your grandfather catches
you, I had absolutely nothing to do
with it. We are agreed?�

�Yes, yes, we�re
agreed,� said Dianthus quickly. Her
grandfather never let her touch her grandmother�s wand � but Dianthus knew
where he kept it, just the same. Just
once she wanted to have the kind of curls she saw in the photos of her mother,
little ringlets that seemed to shimmer around her head. Dianthus� own hair
was, to put it bluntly, a mess. She
seemed to have a lot of hair, but she couldn�t do much with it. It was thick and straight, cut to just above
her shoulders, and prone to knots.
Worse, her grandfather only seemed to notice it when it was at its most
matted. At these times, to her horror,
he would summon her grandmother�s hairbrush and mercilessly tug and yank at her
head until the rats were gone � along with most of her hair, she often thought.

�Yes,� she said
again. �All you need to do is tell me
the words, and I can take it from there, I�m sure of it.� She leaned in toward the mirror, eager now
that she had finally broken through its reluctance. It had taken months of subtle hints and then
outright pleading to even make it this far.
Her grandfather�s mirror had absolutely refused her request, and the
only mirror in Dianthus� room was not magic.
And Aster didn�t have a mirror in her room � she always was more of a
tomboy. Her grandmother�s mirror, then,
was her last chance. Once she had the
spell, she could practice it on her own.
Her grandfather would be furious if he found her with the wand, but when
she finally proved she could do something, anything,
with her grandmother�s wand, surely he would let her have it?

�Very well, then,
let us begin. The spell itself is quite
simple, but the wand movement is essential.
Oh, I remember very well the many, many times your grandmother curled
your mother�s hair, sitting right where you are now��

�Come on, now, get
on with it!�

�Patience,
Dianthus, patience,� chided the mirror.
�Where was I?� Dianthus could
almost see the frown as the mirror collected its thoughts. �Ah, yes, the wand
movement. It is not so much a
�swish� as a �dip�, if you understand my meaning. As the wand is generally pointing at one�s
self, this can be difficult to accomplish.
However, to misdirect the magic would be quite�catastrophic, for the
witch or wizard attempting the spell, as baldness can be easily the result,
rather than the intended effect.�

Dianthus
sighed. The mirror, which had been her
grandmother�s, came from a different era, when people had time to sit around
and talk all day about things like unintended results and misdirected
magic. And, she thought, this particular
mirror liked to hear itself talk much too much.

The mirror�s
droning was cut short, however, by a shout from the first floor. Dianthus jumped at hearing her grandfather
calling her name so loudly � generally he was quite a reserved fellow. �Coming, Grandpa!� she yelled, jumping up
from the chair. �We�ll finish this
later,� she whispered to the mirror.

�I�m not going
anywhere, Dianthus,� called the mirror, as Dianthus pelted from the room.

Dianthus ran down
the stairs and had to pull up short to avoid colliding with her grandfather,
who stood by the banister with one foot on the bottom step. It looked as if he was just considering
coming up after her. Dianthus noticed
that his face was slightly flushed, and her eyes widened. �Grandpa, are you okay?� He was a tall man, with shoulder-length white
hair, but currently he was hunched over as if in pain, and both of his hands
were clutched to his belly. His dark
blue eyes, which were exactly like her eyes, were stern and his face seemed
overly serious. She faltered. �Grandpa? Where�s Aster? Is she hurt?�

�She�s fine. She�s out in the greenhouses, with the
orchids. I thought you might not want
her jumping around when I gave you this.�
He held out his hands. In them
was an envelope, made of heavy parchment and sealed with a dollop of red wax �
and addressed directly to her:

Dianthus
Brandywine

Maedulas Herb Farm

Chapel Porth, Cornwall

�It�s come, my love, it has come!� He pressed the envelope into her hands, but
she felt as if she could not move. She
looked from the envelope into his face.
His eyes were no longer stern, but dancing with joy, and she stared back
down at the parchment in her hand. After
a moment he urged, �Open it, then, Dianthus, open it,� for she was still
staring at the letter as if turned to stone.

�Grandpa,� she
finally whispered, looking up at him.
�Is this�is it��

�Yes!� he shouted.

Grinning, Dianthus
ripped open the seal open and hurriedly began to read the letter out loud. �Dear Miss Brandywine, we are pleased to
inform you��

At this her
grandfather let out a shout, startling her so that she almost dropped the
letter. �I knew it, I knew it, I knew
you had it in you!� He gave another
whoop of laughter and pulled her into an embrace, twirling her around as he
hadn�t down since she was very s.
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