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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
Twenty Three. 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 Twenty
Three � The Inevitable

Dianthus felt like
she was living her life in a haze of misery and sadness. Her roommates, after their initial tearful
offers of condolences, seemed afraid to bring up the subject of her
grandfather, and instead prattled nonstop about their upcoming exams. Dianthus joined in, but her display of fear
was hollow.

Snape reminded her
to give him her requests for additional ingredients. He seemed faintly surprised that moonstone
was the only one, but said nothing, and she didn�t press the issue. Several weeks later, he sent her a note
saying the moonstone had arrived. She
didn�t reply, but during the next class went through the motions of preparing
the potion for a second time. During the
initial maturation period, she didn�t argue when he assigned her essays during
class period. She no longer had any
enthusiasm for anything.

She wrote her
grandfather a letter each night, and was rewarded with frequent, though short,
missives from him on a regular basis.
She heard nothing from Aster, although Dianthus wrote her frequently as
well, begging her sister to at least yell at her via owl.

She spent most of
her infrequent quiet time berating herself for not
noticing her grandfather�s condition, and Aster�s abrupt personality change,
sooner. She reread the one letter she�d
received in January from her sister � Aster had always been an abysmal
correspondent. She had thought that the
delay in receiving another letter was simply the younger girl�s preoccupation
with the neighbor boys. Now she realized
that her grandfather must have told Aster of his condition soon after
Christmas.

The days melted
into one another in a fog of routine activity.
She tried to apply herself to her studies, but couldn�t be sure any
longer of success on her N.E.W.T.s. Even finally mastering the patronus charm and producing a glowing silver fox in
corporeal form, based on thoughts of her grandfather making a miraculous
recovery, did not lighten her mood. They
were daydreams, those thoughts, and didn�t mean anything. Daydreaming of Snape no longer held any
appeal, although she couldn�t deny her attraction to him when she woke up from
the frequent dreams she had of him, in which they were doing things she�d only
heard Melanie and Erin doing together, late at night, in their fourth and fifth
years.

The end of March
saw the second successful batch of what she was calling a Closing Potion. She apathetically poured the solution into a
flagon and placed it on Snape�s desk at the end of the period. She tossed her parchment and quill into her
bag, and motioned to Martine that she was ready to leave. They had not gotten halfway across the room,
however, when Snape said, not looking up from the essay he was grading, �Miss
Brandywine, please stay behind a moment.�

Dianthus blew out
an exasperated breath and grunted, �See you at dinner, Martine.� Martine nodded her head and left the
room. Dianthus walked stiffly to stand
in front of Snape�s desk. She met his
glower with an impassive stare, vaguely aware of quiet conversation and
laughter coming from behind, where Jarlath and Jenny
were dawdling over gathering their things.

�Miss Brandywine,�
Snape said coolly. �I am quite concerned
with the quality of your efforts over the past month. The essays you�ve submitted have displayed
clumsy logic and poor reasoning.� She
continued to gaze impassively at him.
His frown intensified when it became apparent she wouldn�t answer
him. �I am waiting,� he said, his voice dropping menacingly, �for an
explanation.�

�I don�t have one,
sir.� She heard Jenny and Jarlath exit, still giggling together and talking. Giggling like that seemed alien and repugnant
to Dianthus in her current state of mind.

Snape threw down
his quill and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. �Do you think it will make you feel better if
you fail all your N.E.W.T.s?� he said, acidly.

With tremendous
effort, she kept her voice level and refused to rise to his bait. �I don�t plan on failing, sir.�

�You will if you
continue in this fashion,� he snarled. �Your work is shoddy � how do you plan to present a rational essay he
he
examination board?�

She gave him an
insolent stare and said, �I�m sure my efforts will be sufficient, sir.� She wasn�t, but bugger if she�d tell him
that.

He sighed, his
expression softening. �Dianthus,� he
said quietly, �you cannot blame yourself.
Your grandfather��

She tensepan pan
style='mso-spac:yes:yes'> �I don�t want to talk about that.� She meant to yell the words, but they only
came out as a harsh whisper through the sudden constriction in her throat.

He gazed at her a
moment longer, his face becoming unreadable.
�You will need to talk about it sooner or later.�

�I won�t,� she
said, flatly.

�You are being
childish,� he hissed.

�I � don�t � want
� to � talk � about � this.�

He sighed
again. �When you do,� he said, picking
up his pen, �please remember that you have many friends here.� He waved his hand dismissively at her, and
she turned and walked stiffly from the room.

Instead of heading
for the great hall, Dianthus went back to her dormitory. She didn�t have an appetite. She stretched out on her bed and stared at
the canopy above her. She was feeling guilty, and she knew it was
irrational, but she couldn�t help thinking it.
There was no known cure for Van Winkle�s disease � but there had been no
internal method of closing deep wounds through magic, either. If she had proven herself capable of making
one potion others thought impossible, surely she could have made another? But it had taken her years of diligent effort
to discover the combinationingringredients that led to her success. And now there was no time.

Sensing another
bout of depression coming on, Dianthus opened her bag and removed her
Arithmancy textbook. She thought she
might get some studying in, but she couldn�t concentrate on the complicated
formulas in front of her. A fruitless
half-hour later, she tossed the book aside and stared out the window. An owl flew by in the gathering dusk, and
almost without thinking about it, she pulled a piece of parchment in front of
her.

She wrote three
words � I feel guilty � on it, then
lifted her quill angrily. She snatched
it up, intending to crumple it and throw it in the wastebasket. Instead, she found herself moving as if
underwater toward the door, and then down the stairs. By the time she hit the corridor outside the
common room, she was running flat out, arriving breathless and huffing at the
owlery. She attached the scrap of
parchment to the leg of the closest owl and panted, �Professor Snape, please.�

She watched it
rise and fly out of the window, feeling both silly and relieved. It was little better than the note she�d sent
him before Christmas. In fact, she had
to admit that it was significantly worse.
Snape would most likely find her lack of articulation appalling. Still, she hadn�t told anyone about the guilt
eating away at her, and watching the owl wing its way toward the castle, her
mood lightened just a little. She
trotted back to Ravenclaw tower, and with some effort, slogged through her
Arithmancy homework before her roommates came back from dinner.

After three days
Dianthus decided that Snape wasn�t going to owl her back. She told herself it didn�t matter � it had
felt good simply to write the words.
Even so, the part of her that had felt silly at even sending the damned
thing was growing louder in its recriminations.
She repressed it by spending the weekend hitting the books hard. Forcing her roommates to join her provided an
added distraction.

�Oh, Dianthus,
it�s Sunday afternoon!� Erin finally shrieked, when
Dianthus suggested they return to the common room after lunch. �It�s a lovely day outside, for crying out
loud. And we need one afternoon off!�

�Yes,� said
Melanie, �and I think a little time outside would you do good
especially, Di. You�re starting to look
quite peaky.�

�I � I told Kevin Merrigold I would meet him by greenhouse three,� Martine
giggled. Erin,
Melanie and Dianthus shared a grimace.
Martine had been going out with Kevin for only two weeks, and they were
already as tired of hearing about him as they had been of all her other
boyfriends.

�Go on, then,�
Dianthus grumbled. �I�m going to finish
that History of Magic essay for Binns.� Melanie�s face fell, but she said nothing as
Dianthus rose from the Ravenclaw table.
Dianthus felt her friends� eyes on her as she made her way out of the
great hall, but she didn�t turn back to reassure them.

She was idling at
her desk in their dorm room, trying to work up some enthusiasm for the
assignment on the intricacies of the Wizengamut and
its role in applying Wizard law, when a tiny owl fluttered through the open
window and landed in front of her, a sheet of parchment in its beak. Fearing it was news about her grandfather, she hastily slid the note from the bird�s beak
and unfolded it. It was written in Snape�s
handwriting, though, not Aster�s � Dianthus let out a breath she didn�t know
she�d been holding and read:

If I thought that you would listen, I would tell you daily and nightly
that you have done nothing wrong.
However, you are willful and obstinate, and merely telling you is
irritatingly insufficient. I will
therefore attempt logic.

Consider: if you had even an
inkling of coming events, you would be a Seer rather than the gifted Potions
Master you will someday be. Had you been
a Seer, you could not have researched a possible cure. You are wallowing in a conundrum. The rational part of you knows it to be true
� please allow the knowledge to seep through the emotional barriers you�ve
erected, and dissolve the bands that are constricting your heart.

I ask you not to become immersed in your grief. Remember that there are those willing to
offer you comfort, cold as it may be at the moment.

I am available to you should you need me.

Dianthus read and
reread his words. She smiled, although
it felt odd to do so at first. How like
him it was to sheath his compliments in a scabbard of insolence. She noticed, too, that he didn�t try soothing
her with placating words of wisdom about her grandfather being with her
always. She picked up her quill and
applied herself to the essay for Binns, if not with
enthusiasm, then at least without the grasping pain in her heart that she�d
quickly become accustomed to.

She didn�t mention
the note to her roommates. Instead she
slipped it under her pillow and frequently read it by wand light after
lights-out. Snape didn�t seem to expect
a reply, nor did he mention his letter or her grandfather in their next class
period. He did, however, mention that
moonstone seemed to have been a beneficial addition to the potion.

Dianthus received
an owl from Aster at breakfast three weeks later:

They�ve administered the
potion. Grandpa died three days
ago. The lawyers will owl you. Don�t come home.

She was so stunned
at the inadequacy of this that she simply stared at the parchment until her
roommates noticed her glassy look and, after forcing the note from her hand,
huddled around her protectively. Perhaps
they thought she might break into hysterical sobs, though she felt only icy
numbness seeping through her body. Not
at the final expected death of her grandfather, although that was certainly a
blow. It was the cold callousness of her
sister�s words that shocked her into silence.
Don�t come home.

�Oh, Di,� sobbed
Melanie. �I�m so sorry � we�ll help you
pack.�

�No,�
murmured Dianthus, barely comprehending what they were saying. �No,� she said again, stronger this time,
trying to bring her mind back into focus.
�I�ve said everything to Grandpa that I wanted to, and he � he�s gone,
after all.�

Her roommates
looked scandalized that she wouldn�t return home immediately. �But, Di,� quavered Martine, �He was � he was
your Grandpa. And surely Aster will need help sorting things out?�

�There�s nothing
to sort out. Grandpa took care of
everything. Thn>The lawyers are Aster�s
guardians � he told me last month. She
told him flat out she wouldn�t abide by me telling her what to do, and I
believe it. So we�re
having to sell the farm and split everything up.� Her roommates made sounds of horror and
disbelief. Dianthus shrugged tightly,
iing ing the creeping horror the thought of selling the farm always brought to
her chest. �He told me he already had a
buyer. She wouldn�t agree to anything
else.�

Her sister�s
anger, on top of everything else, was too much to bear. Dianthus simply had to put it out of her
mind. �And Grandpa wanted to be cremated
right away. You see how long she waited
to tell me.�

�Why didn�t
Dumbledore tell you?� asked Erin, wonderingly.

Dianthus smiled
grimly. �I imagine Grandpa made him
promise not to tell me, just to keep me here, studying for those
bloody N.E.W.T.s.
That�s something he would do.�

She received owls
from all over, during the next few weeks, offering condolences � empty
words. Dumbledore sent her a short note
telling her that he thought she was the best and living proof of her
grandfather�s considerable human worth.
She didn�t hear from Aster again, and the lawyers informed her that her
sister was living with a guardian in London.

Snape said nothing
at all about it, although he was quite gentle with her for a week or so. She was glad for this, as she had enough to
deal with between the owls and her classmates, who got word from Melanie, she
supposed. She could hardly get to her
classes the entire first week of April.
McGonagall offered to excuse her from her studies for a few days, but
Dianthus declined. She felt she owed it
to her grandfather to do as well as she possibly could on her upcoming
exams. She saved her crying for after
lights-out, but she welcomed the distraction of classes and tinkering with her
potion with Snape.

He seemed to feel
that they were so close to the end of term that her reputation was probably
safe, as he finally stopped assigning her essays in each class period. After the first week following her
grandfather�s death, they spent the hours discussing the potion and her future,
in between his berating the other students.

He didn�t appear
at all surprised to hear she had decided to go into research. However, he raised an eyebrow when she told
him she�d applied to Bremmel
College, just before N.E.W.T week
began. �Lofty ambitions,� he said,
teasingly. �They only take the best,
Miss Brandywine.�

�Well, that�s me,
isn�t it?� she replied, ruefully.

�Yes, it is.� He looked at her gravely. �I wasn�t trying to make you feel better, you
know. You will be a superb potions
developer.�

�You made me feel
better, anyway,� she replied, feeling shy again. Each time she thought she was over her crush,
it came back in full force at the oddest times.
Like now � she felt her face redden as his dark eyes held her gaze. �Thank you for saying it.�

�I meant
everything I said, Dianthus,� he murmured.
�I will be available to you if you need me.� His voice was like a caress, and her heart
fluttered at hearing him say her name � he so rarely used it. In some ways it was good she was going to London
� she�d have some distance from him, and her pointless infatuation with him,
and they could finally have a normal friendship. She could cry with despair at the very thought.
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