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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
- 11
- 12
- 13
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
Twelve. 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 Twelve �
Strength in Numbers

Dianthus would
have liked to have spent the entire weekend in her dorm room. In fact, she wondered if she could spend the
entire term in the room, and whether she could convince her roommates to bring
class assignments to her. But the three
girls insisted that the best way to deal with the gossip swirling around her
was to be as visible as possible. �After
all,� said Erin, in a surprising display of logic,
�it�ll only add fuel to the rumors if you�re suddenly nowhere to be found.�

So she gritted her
teeth and went about her business as if nothing was wrong. No other students made the mistake of
approaching her with questions about Snape.
Perhaps it was the fact that Erin kept her wand
at the ready that kept the younger ones at bay.
In addition, the three of them made sure they surrounded her as they
walked to the great hall for meals.
Dianthus thought that some of the Slytherins gave her especially dirty
looks as the roommates made their way to their usual seats at the Ravenclaw
table. But then again, Slytherins
frequently sneered at students from other houses, so she couldn�t be sure it
was because of the Snape stories.

She slept poorly,
with memories of those horrible months in her first year coming back each time
she crawled under the covers. Even now
she didn�t know which story was the worst one.
She could laugh off the Dark Arts stories, really � anyone who knew her
knew her hatred of dark magic. But she�d
only been eleven, and completely unprepared for people to think she�d been
having sex with anyone, much less someone she loved like a brother. Not that she was any better prepared for it
now. She�d never even held hands with a
boy.

On Monday, she was
determined to hold her head high as she attended her classes. Fortunately, she had Transfiguration first
thing in the morning, and Professor McGonagall�s lessons always required
complete attentiveness. Dianthus was
quite good at Transfiguration, but they had moved far beyond merely turning
turtles into teapots, and were working on human modification.

�Now, this spell
is quite complex,� Professor McGonagall assured them, pointing to the
blackboard, where the formula for a spell to temporarily change one�s eye color
had suddenly appeared. �We won�t even
attempt practicing it today, as I want to be quite certain you understand the
theory behind it. Next class we will
experiment on pink-eyed mice, so be sure to take good notes and study them
carefully before we meet again.�
Dianthus painstakingly copied the entire formula onto her parchment and gratefully
gave her undivided attention as the professor guided them through the intricate
wand movement required.

After lunch she
spent the entire afternoon struggling to stay awake in History of Magic. Melanie sat next to her, furiously scribbling
down everything Professor Binns told them about the
development of the modern Ministry of Magic, and the latest additions to the
Wizard Code of Law. Dianthus knew that
Melanie would let her copy her notes later, and they would be good, too �
History of Magic was easily Melanie�s best class, although she preferred Care
of Magical Creatures. Dianthus was free
to doze fitfully while attempting to take in what the ghost professor was
droning on about.

All in all, it was
a rather dull Monday. At dinner,
however, she noticed that Erin kept her wand on the
table as they ate, and Martine was quite rude to her boyfriend when he tried to
bring up the subject of Potions.
Finally, Melanie whispered in her ear, �The other story is going around. I heard it from Beardon
Snagg in Care of Magical Creatures.� Dianthus closed her eyes and sighed.

She defiantly
spent the evening in the common room, but headed to bed early, after completing
her Herbology assignment (draw and label a Devil�s Snare in each of its four
stages of maturity, and twelve inches on how to handle the plant safely during
each stage). She felt she had been
visible for quite long enough. Her
roommates were kind enough to pretend she was sleeping when they finally made
their way to bed, but Dianthus lay awake for a long time, cursing Snape for not
having waited one more year before coming to teach at Hogwarts.

Defense against
the Dark Arts was one of her favorite subjects, but she had already discovered that
Professor Quirrell preferred lecturing to actually
showing them the interesting stuff. His
first lecture had been almost laughable.
Still, she, like everybody else, cringed when Quirrell
brought up the subject of He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named on Tuesday.

�How does a wizard
go bad?� Quirrell began his
lecture, his voice going a little shrill.
�And how did You-Know-Who die?
What was it about Harry Potter that He-Who-Cannot-Be-Named could not
defeat, even though You-Know-Who was able to murder the infant�s parents?�

Dianthus started at
the mention of the name Potter. Of course, she had heard the story of the boy
who lived, and she had rejoiced with everyone at the apparent demise of the
greatest dark wizard of their time. She
had known James Potter slightly while he was still at school, or rather, she�d had a few unfortunate run-ins with him when he
was Head Boy. She had thought, at the
time, that he had been an arrogant jerk.
However, she felt quite sad for the baby who was now an orphan.

She remembered
that Potter and Snape had hated each other.
Wonder what Snape thought when he
heard the Potters were dead, she thought, idly, and then she chastised
herself. She didn�t give a flying fig
what Snape thought about James Potter�s untimely demise. In fact, she reminded herself firmly, she
didn�t give a fuck what Snape thought about anything.

After lunch, Snape
began their Potions lesson by handing back their essays. �The general quality of your writing is
adequate,� he said as he moved quickly about, tossing each parchment in front of
its owner. �However, most of your essays
had a hurried aspect to them, which betrayed the lack of research time you invested. Also,� and here he
looked pointedly at Martine, �I noticed that some of your handwriting is quite
a bit larger than it need be. In the
future, do not attempt to falsify the length of your essays with such blatant
and juvenile tactics. You will find that
the N.E.W.T administrators have very little patience with these sorts of
maneuvers � and neither do I.�

Again, he spent
the remainder of periperiod lecturing them, this time on various types of
narcotic herbs, and assigned them another two feet of homework to hand in on
Thursday. �In addition, please be ready
to discuss with the class the focus of your experimental research, and the
reasons behind your choice, for our next session. Class dismissed.�

Dianthus let out a
soft sigh of relief. She had
half-expected him to make a snide comment about her absence, or grade her
poorly on the homework. However, he had
given her an �Acceptable� on her essay, and he had ignored her throughout the
afternoon. She hadn�t raised her hand to
answer any questions, and he hadn�t asked her any directly.

She and Martine
had almost scurried across the dungeon threshold when she heard him say, �Miss
Brandywine, please stay behind a moment.�

Martine�s eyes
widened as they stood buffeted by the other students rushing to dinner. �Not again?�
she mouthed. Dianthus heaved a huge
sigh, her shoulders slumping. �You
can�t�� Martine began, but Snape interrupted her.

�Did you not hear
me, Miss Brandywine? I wish to have a
word with you.�

�Wait outside,�
Dianthus muttered hopelessly. Martine
gave her a scared look, but headed out the door, leaving Dianthus alone with
Snape again.

Gritting her
teeth, Dianthus turned and plodded back to stand in front of Snape�s desk,
making sure to look him squarely in the eye.
His arms were once again folded across his chest. �Yes, Professor?� she said dully. She knew what was coming.

�I was sorry to
hear of your sudden bout of food poisoning, Miss Brandywine,� he said
dispassionately. �Madame Pomfrey tells
me that you are rarely unwell. How unfortunate that you should be stricken just before our last
class session.� He leaned
casually against the back of his chair, but his black eyes bored into her as he
spoke.

�Yes, sir, it was
quite unfortunate,� she replied. It
could only go down from here. That
sentence was as far as she�d gotten, when she�d gone over this inevitable
conversation in head.

�You have no idea
what could have been the cause of your sudden illness?� he said, his voice
dangerously polite, his face a mask of courteous interest.

�Something I �
something I ate, I guess,� Dianthus said, feeling a slight flush burning her
cheeks. She needed to keep her answers
short; she knew he was waiting patiently for her to trip herself up. She was a terrible liar. He knew she was a terrible liar.

�Something
from the great hall? That is
practically unheard of. How very odd
that no other students were afflicted,� he noted, now inspecting his
fingernails as if they had all day to discuss the matter.

�Well, good for them, I say,� Dianthus said in an overly cheerful
voice, glancing nervously around the room.
So far, so good � no quaver in her voice, and she wasn�t really saying
anything, nothing he could pounce on. �I
wouldn�t want anyone else to feel the way I did.� That, at least, was the complete truth. Belatedly, she added, �sir.�

�Yes, I�m sure you
wouldn�t,� he said softly. Klaxons
started going off in Dianthus� head at his tone. She gripped her bag tighter as he continued,
�You have recovered fully, I trust?�

�Yes, sir, fully,�
she said, still in that cheerful voice, still searching the room for some way
out of this conversation. �Madame
Pomfrey fixed me right up.�

�So your
discomfort lasted only, and exactly, for the duration of my class.�

As if he had
commanded it, her eyes swiveled back to his.
He was quite furious � his normally pale skin was as flushed as hers
felt, and the heat from his gaze could have started a fire. For half a minute they stared at each other,
Dianthus still defiant, but feeling a sort of creeping fright inching its way
down her arms.

�That�s � that�s
not true,� she said, though her throat was suddenly so dry it came out as more
of a croak.

�It must be so,�
he said slowly, enunciating each word, �for I saw you in the great hall only
moments after class ended. You were
looking quite well. You. Deliberately. Skived. Off.�
He said the last sentence in such a deadly calm voice that she was
certain he was going to assign her to her first ever detention.

She could think of
nothing at all to say. She could barely
breathe. She couldn�t even drag her eyes
from his. Horrifying thoughts of what
the students would say, when they heard she was serving detention with Snape,
ran unbidden through her mind. Another
awful silence fell between them.

Finally, he said,
in a lethal voice that sent the fear skittering down her fingertips, �I thought
I made myself quite clear during our last chat. I will not tolerate less than your best
effort. It seems evident that I did not
quite make my point.� He paused, and it
seemed to Dianthus that her terror was soothing him. His face was placid, his voice silky when he
continued. �Tell me, are we going to have
trouble, Miss Brandywine?�

�We will if you
keep holding me after class, Professor,� she said angrily, before she could
stop herself. She didn�t know where it
had come from, and she knew it was stupid to say anything but she couldn�t help
it. She had to shut him up and get the
fuck out of his classroom.

He frowned. �Excuse me?�

�Never mind,� she
muttered, regretting her outburst. But
it was too late.

�Is there
something you�d like to tell me, Miss Brandywine?� he asked, in a tone that let
her know that she was going to tell
him, willing or not. When she hesitated,
he growled, �It will be much easier for you if you begin speaking immediately,
before I become further annoyed with you.�

She cursed her
temper and took a deep breath. �Do you
remember the stories that were going around at the end of my first year? After Potter, um, did what he did to you?�

His eyes narrowed
and he leaned forward a little, his body now straight and rigid, and when he
spoke, it was in a voice of forced calm.
�I remember. Potter
and his gang, spreading vicious lies.
They attempted to create a scandal � it was minor. It died down quickly. Neither one of us was worth much notice.�

�Yes,� she snarled,
�but one of us is worth notice now, aren�t we?
New teac the the students are curious.
Well, the seventh-years know a bit about you, don�t they? They remember you from back then. Of course, the main thing they remember
involves me.� She looked away from him, took another
breath, and then drove her eyes back to his. �Me, acting either as your playmate in
learning the Dark Arts, or as � or as��

She could not
continue, and she saw that she didn�t need to.
His nostrils flared, and he unfolded his arms to clench the edge of his
desk tightly with his long fingers. She
noticed, almost against her will, that he no longer wore the silver ring his
mother had given him as a young boy. He
had told her he never took it off, but it wasn�t on his finger. Before she could wonder why, she thrust the
thought of it from her mind.

�You were a
child,� he hissed finally. �Surely they
don�t believe��

�They don�t need
to believe it,� she scoffed. �It�s just
as much fun to pass the stories around even if you don�t think they�re
true. Especially,� she smiled
maliciously, �when you keep finding reasons
to keep me here after class. Sir.�

She got a spiteful
thrill out of watching the blood drain from his face. When he said nothing for a full minute, she
asked coldly, �Was there anything else you wanted to tell me, Professor?�

He shook his head
mutely. She turned on her heel and left
the classroom.
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