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. |
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
Seventeen. 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 Seventeen
– No Joy
Dianthus was more
excited than she had ever been about going home for Christmas. She packed her trunk and she and her
roommates joined the crowd on the front steps.
“I hope we can sit together,” said Melanie, craning her neck for a sight
of the carriages that would take them to Hogsmeade
station.
“They should let
seventh-years on first,” grumbled Erin, shoving a
second-year girl in front of them out of the way so they could move closer to
the front.
The crowd began to
surge forward as the long line of horseless carriages finally approached, and
the caretaker shouted angrily, “Hold your hippogriffs! Plenty of carriages to go
around!” The roommates rushed
forward just the same, and jumped into one of the first carriages in the long
line.
Once they had
secured a compartment on the train, Dianthus fell asleep almost
immediately. She had lain awake most of the night, going over the ingredients for the
potion, thinking of small tweaks to the ratios, and planning her triumphant
speech to the school upon successfully brewing the thing. She wanted to get started right away when she
got home.
But as it turned
out, Dianthus didn’t get started right away.
When her grandfather picked her up at the station, she immediately
noticed that he looked frail and tired.
She said nothing to him, but asked Aster about it after he went to bed
that night.
“What are you
talking about?” asked her sister, looking puzzled. “He looks the same as he ever did.”
“Come on, Aster,
haven’t you looked at him lately? He
looks – old.”
“Well, he is old,
isn’t he?” laughed Aster. That was true
enough – her grandfather heen een well into middle age when the girls’ father
had been born. “He turned ninety in October,
remember?”
Dianthus nodded,
but said, “I don’t remember him looking like that before, though, Aster. Maybe you don’t see it because you’re here
with him every day.”
“Don’t remind me,”
Aster muttered, looking at her sister with undisguised jealousy.
“Oh, Aster, don’t
be an ass. I can’t help it if you’re a Squib.” Dianthus had long ago stopped apologizing for
having magical ability when her sister had none.
“Yeah, well, I
still try with the wand once in a while.
I think I’m getting closer.”
Dianthus said
nothing. She knew her sister would never
produce any results with the wand, but she thought it might cause a row if she
said it. “Well, I’m going to bed.”
The nmornmorning,
her grandfather rose early, as usual, and was sitting at the kitchen table
drinking deeply from a mug when Dianthus came in, yawning and stretching. “Tea’s on, then, Grandpa?” she asked, walking
past him to the stove.
“Tea, yes, or you
can have some coffee – that’s what I’m having.”
She frowned at
him. “When did you start drinking
coffee?”
He shrugged. “Seems I need a bit more than tea to get
going these days,” he said.
She sat down at
the table beside him. “Grandpa, are you
okay?”
“Oh, don’t worry
about me,” he said grimly.
“But I am
worried,” she said in a small voice.
Her morning’s
activities did not reassure her as to her grandfather’s well-being. She discovered that he had hired a manager
for most of the daily farm chores, and instead of striding out into the fields,
as had been his habit, she fretted as he dawdled at the table, sipping his
coffee and perusing The Daily Prophet,
until well after ten o’clock. She struggled to mask her shock and horror
when he actually laid down for a nap after they went Christmas shopping in the
village. It was only during dinner that
night that he even asked her how the potion was going.
“Oh,” she said,
“the new Potions professor has been helping me with it. I – I think we’re going to start testing it
in the lab when term starts again.” She
didn’t even ask whether he would help her over the holiday, she just couldn’t
do it.
“Oh, that’s great
news,” he said, smiling, with a touch of the merriness she remembered. “You’ll have to owl me how it goes right
away. What’s his theory, then?” And they
spent the remainder of the meal talking about what Snape had suggested Dianthus
do with the recipe. “Sounds like he
knows what he’s doing,” her grandfather said approvingly.
“Yeah,” muttered
Dianthus grudgingly. “He can be a real
asshole sometimes, though.”
“Language, Di,”
her grandfather chided sternly.
So rather than
testing her potion, Dianthus spent most of the holiday hanging out with her
sister, and suffering a never-ending stream of visits from Aster’s many
boyfriends, who arrived with gifts and moped around until Aster kicked them
out. “I can’t pick,” she moaned. “They’re all so cute. Although I think Dougie
Fortran might have eyes for you, now that he’s seen
you all grown up.”
“No need to pick
right away,” Dianthus said wryly.
“You’ve got lots of time, after all.”
“Have you got a
boyfriend at school, Di?” her sister asked shyly. “You never talk about anyone in your
letters.”
“No,” Dianthus
said, squirming.
“I didn’t think
so. Are there lots of cute boys at
school?”
“I suppose,” said
Dianthus. She was feeling distinctly
uncomfortable. “I’m too busy to pay much
attention.”
“What about your
teachers, then?” Aster grinned. “Are any
of them worth notice?”
“Aster! That’s disgusting!” Dianthus yelled.
“Come on! You said that new Defense against the Dark
Arts professor was pretty young. How’s
he?”
Dianthus
scoffed. “Professor Snape is much more
handsome than Professor Quirrell,” she said. She was surprised to hear herself say
this. “He’s a big pain in the ass,
though, you wouldn’t fancy him at all,” she added, seeing Aster’s interested
look.
She was annoyed to
discover that her conversation with Aster stayed in her mind for quite a
while. She found herself thinking of
Snape at odd times, and considering him in a troublesome new light. She had never really thought of it, other
than to covet his eyelashes, but she had been telling the truth when she told
Aster she thought he was he was handsome.
True, his hawk nose was a distraction, and his black hair never seemed
to lose its greasy sheen, but there was a feline grace to his movements, and
there were times when his features shifted into proportion in a way that she
found quite agreeable. Those long,
slender fingers…What are you doing? she asked herself angrily.
She couldn’t believe she was sitting here daydreaming about Snape!
With no potion to
occupy her, Dianthus resentfully turned her attention to her Arithmancy and
Defense against the Dark Arts essays. It
took the better part of her final week of vacation to finish both, and she
firmly pushed Snape’s face from her mind whenever she threatened to slip back
into fanciful daydreams about him.
Bloody Aster, she thought,
grumpily. She blamed her little sister’s
boy-craziness for this sudden fascination with her Potions instructor, and
between that and worrying about her grandfather, she was quite pleased to
return to the hubbub of the castle at the end of the holiday.
Still, her face
burned when she caught sight of Snape inhaling his breakfast on Monday. Once away from her sister’s constant chatter
about boys, she felt more than a little silly about thinking of Snape in that way, even if his eyelashes would
probably feel wondrous against her cheek…
“So what are we
going to do for my birthday?” she asked her roommates, firmly turning her gaze
away from the s tab table.
“Ooh, I’ve got it
all planned. We sneak up to the
Astronomy tower and toast your finally coming of age,” Erin
said eagerly. ickeicked a pint of Old Ogden’s
from my dad’s cabinet, I’ve got it hid away in my trunk.” They spent the rest of breakfast making plans
for the big night.
On Tuesday,
Dianthus could hardly wait for Potions.
Definitely not because of Snape, though.
Only because she was finally going to get to test out the first part of
her theory. She dragged Martine from
lunch so early that they were the first ones to arrive in the dungeons, and
they ended up waiting for ten minutes alone in the corridor. Martine kept throwing her dirty looks, and
Dianthus felt a little guilty.
“So,” she said,
casting about for conversation. “Who do
you think is cute in our year? That you
haven’t gone out with, I mean.”
Martine gaped at
her, obviously dumbfounded by Dianthus’ question. “I didn’t think you even knew there were boys
in our year,” she giggled.
“Come on, now,”
protested Dianthus.es'> “I’m not that bad,
am I?”
“I’ve never heard
you talk once about any one in school,” said Martine, still giggling. “Have you finally discovered boys?” Her eyes widened slightly. “Did you meet someone at home, then?” She grabbed Dianthus’ shoulder. “Tell me everything.”
Dianthus
groaned. “I did not meet anyone at
home. I wouldn’t have a chance, anyway,
with, Aster fluttering around. She’s
gotten pretty girly since September.” It
was true – while her sister still scampered around in jeans and tee shirts,
Dianthus had noticed that she was also wearing lipstick on a pretty regular
basis, and she seemed to have stopped climbing every tree on the farm.
“Well, I think
Kevin Merrigold’s pretty cute,” said Martine
dreamily.
“What, the
Gryffindor Quidditch captain?” snorted Dianthus in disgust. “He’s all pimply and his hair looks like a
wire mop.”
“Yeah, but his
eyes are so deep,” sighed Martine.
“They’re green, you know. I think
I’ve caught him staring at me a time or two in the great hall.”
“I dunno,” Dianthus blew out a frustrated breath. “Maybe I’ll have to wait until I get to
university to find someone.”
“Oh, I t wat wait
to get to London,” tittered
Martine. “College boys are so cool.”
“But they’re still
boys,” said Dianthus, glumly.
“I get it,” said
Martine, a look of comprehension creeping over her face. “This is about Snape.”
“Shut the fuck
up!anthanthus hissed. “This is not abanyoanyone!” Students were starting to descend the stairs,
and she sure as hell didn’t want any of them hearing the alarming turn this
conversation had taken. And it wasn’t about Snape.
But Martine only
simpered at her and whispered, “Whatever.”
After running
through his usual drill, Snape leaned against the edge of his desk and
announced, “Today we begin the practical portion of our studies. I have made note of any special ingredients
your potion requires, and you will each find a basket of supplies in the
student storeroom, labeled with your name.
Please gather them now.” He
watched indifferently as the students all charged toward the store room and
ended up in a clump in the confined area.
Once they had
reassembled in front of their cauldrons, Snape spoke again, sounding utterly
bored. “I will be periodically
monitoring your progress as you work, but please do not hesitate to call on me,
should you encounter any unexpected reactions.”
Dianthus
immediately set to work chopping and cutting ingredients. She was nearly done pounding the aconite into
a fine powder when Snape glided into her field of vision over the table. “Still in one piece, I see, Miss Brandywine,”
he murmured.
“Yes, sir,” she
muttered, not meeting his eye.
He rested one hand
on the table, tapping his index finger.
She continued pounding aconite.
“Well?” he said quietly after a moment of silence. She dragged her gaze up to meet his. “Did you meet with any success?” He made an effort to keep his customary sneer
in place, but the shadow of interest in his dark eyes betrayed him.
“Actually, sir, I
didn’t – have an opportunity to get into the lab,” she said, reddening at the
amusement that flashed over his features.
She was definitely sorry that she had owled
him before Christmas. “My grandfather
wasn’t feeling quite up to a session in the greenhouse with me. What with all the holiday stuff going on,”
she added, trying for a light tone that wouldn’t advertise her worry over her
grandfather’s health.
She glanced down
and moved the neatly pulverized aconite out of her way. He said nothing as she
took her time arranging the plate next to the already chopped dandelion weed,
but she could feel his eyes on her. She
suspected he had divined her feelings despite her attempts to conceal
them. His hand still rested on the
table, though he had stopped that infernal tapping. Why was he still there? Was he waiting for something? She caught sight of his ring, glowing dully
in the dungeon’s light. “You started
wearing your ring again,” she said, just to break the tension.
He glanced down at
his hand. “My ring?” he said,
questioningly.
“Yes, sir – I
noticed earlier in the term that you weren’t wearing it. It’s a lovely ring.” She glanced up at him. He seemed puzzled and even a bit aggravated
by what she had said – although she couldn’t see why he would be either. Maybe there was some story be why why he’d
taken it off, a story he didn’t want to be reminded of. She frowned, wondering what that story could
involve.
Fast as lightning,
Snape flicked out his hand and knocked over her small bowl of powdered
aconite. Its contents fell directly onto
the plate of dandelion weed. “Clumsy
girl,” he drawled loudly, before she could utter the curse that was on her lips. “Your aconite is completely
contaminated.” He turned on his heel and
barked, “There are additional supplies in the store room, please collect
another root. I will get you more
dandelion weed – it’s on a higher shelf.
I doubt if you will be able to reach it.” He disappeared into the store room.
Dianthus
reluctantly rose from her chair. The
absolute last thing she wanted to do at that moment was follow the Potions
instructor out of view of the other students.
Martine, who had been checking the flame under her cauldron, had not
seen Snape knock over the bowl, and only gave her a sympathetic look before
pulling her basket of ingredients toward her.
Wondering if Snape had gone mad, Dianthus walked cautiously to the
supply room and hesitated in the doorway.
He stood in the
center of the small room, his arms crossed, looking intently, almost
menacingly, at her. “Come here,” he
hissed. She walked two steps forward,
and he held out a hand to her. The
silver ring was in his palm. “Put it
on,” he whispered.
“Professor?” she
said quietly, “Are you alright?”
“Put – it – on,”
he repeated. Completely bewildered,
Dianthus took the ring from him and slipped it over her finger. She already knew it would fit – it was a
magic ring that sized itself to who ever was wearing it. Sure enough, it wrapped itself around her
ring finger, just as snug as it had fit him.
As she slid the
ring on, he turned to yank a basket of herbs from the tallest shelf on the wall
behind him, and snatched a packet from it.
Then he reached next to her and pulled a single aconite root from a
cubby hole in the wall. Placing both
items on the counter, he turned back to face her.
Shaking slightly,e hee held out her hand to show him the ring.
It looked no different on her hand than it had on his. To her complete bafflement, he paled
dreadfully when he saw it on her finger, and he immediately motioned for her to
remove it. “Severus, what is wrong?” she
whispered, dropping the band into his outstretched palm. But he didn’t answer, only turned the ring
over and over in his hand, as if he had never seen it before.
“Return to your
seat, Miss Brandywine, before your classmates begin to wonder what has happened
to you,” he said in a very low voice, after perhaps ten seconds. He didn’t look up at her, but continued
staring at the ring in his palm. Stung,
she grabbed the ingredients and rushed back to her table.
Snape didn’t leave
the storeroom for a minute or two, during which time Dianthus busied herself
cutting the new supply of dandelion weed, her hand still shaking just a bit as
she wielded the knife. She avoided
looking at him as he stalked around the classroom. He did not return to check her work for the
remainder of the period.
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