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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
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 Three � An
Unexpected Invitation

Dianthus fell into
a habit of playing chess in the great hall each Wednesday night. Neither Snape nor Potter approached her
again, but after the incident (as she began to call it in her head), she made more of an effort to form a closer friendship
with her roommates. After all, if
seventh-years thought she was easy prey for � whatever, perhaps it was because
she was always alone. She forced herself
to join them in the common room, which at first surprised them, but they
welcomed her. As she got to know them
Dianthus discovered, to her shock, that she liked
having friends.

To her surprise,
she found that Martine was quite easy to get along with, and just as studious
as Dianthus herself was. Melanie was
rather eager to learn about the magical world, although after several study
sessions, Dianthus finally decided she just wasn�t that bright. �I don�t know how I got into Ravenclaw in the
first place,� Melanie admitted one Monday morning in November, as the four girls
sat eating their breakfast. �I think I
should have been in Hufflepuff.�

�That�s bullshit,aid aid Erin vigorously.
At almost twelve, she was the oldest of the roommates, and she never
tired of shocking them with vulgarities.
�The Sorting Hat put you in Ravenclaw because you belong with us. You feel like you�ve got catching up to do,
and maybe you do, but we�re all in the same boat in our first year.�

�It�s
true,� Dianthus lied, trying to make Melanie feel better. �We�re all having a hard time of it.�

�You seem to find
time to play chess every week,� pouted Melanie.
�You could help me study Potions, I know you�re
really good in it.�

�I know,� yelled Erin,
and several students turned to look at her.
She rolled her eyes at them and continued, �Why don�t you two partner in
Potions?� Dianthus looked aghast. Potions was her best
subject, and she didn�t want to jeopardize her grade by partnering with
Melanie. �No, no, look,� said Erin
quickly, seeing the look on Dianthus� face.
�You are really good at Potions,
Dianthus, and you can help Melanie.�

Melanie looked
pleadingly at Dianthus, and even Martine said, �You know, that�s not a bad
idea. Professor Incompertus would
definitely go for it. He wants us all to
do well.�

Dianthus thought
for a fraction of a second and then said, �Okay, Melanie, we�ll ask Professor
Incompertus next class if we can partner.
How�s that?�

�Oh, Di, thank you
so much,� Melanie beamed, giving Dianthus a hug. �You know, you�re the youngest of us all, but
you do so good in your classes. How come?�

�Oh, I don�t know,
maybe because I had private tutors for the nonmagic
stuff at home,� said Dianthus, feeling distinctly uncomfortable. She was very relieved when the post owls made
their appearance at that moment. Erin
generally got a package every couple of days from her parents, and Dianthus
occasionally got a letter from her grandfather or her little sister. To her surprise, though, it was not Octavio,
her grandfather�s large barn owl, which alit in front of her this morning. A tiny owl, small enough to sit in her palm,
dropped a roll of parchment in her hand, and then dipped its beak into her
pumpkin juice before rising once again into the air.

Dianthus opened
the parchment at once. It was little
larger than the Muggle postcards Melanie�s parents sent her. One sentence was written in tiny, cramped,
handwriting:

If you�d like to stop making the same stupid mistakes over and
over, come to the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom Wednesday at 6:30 pm.

It wasn�t signed. Dianthus rolled up the parchment, feeling
uneasy. She glanced over to the
Slytherin table, and finally located Snape.
He was shoveling food into his mouth while he read a book, apparently
oblivious to those around him. She
thought it was more than a little creepy that he would send her a note when she
was sitting not twenty feet away from him.

�Di? Are you alright?� Martine was looking
concernedly at her. �You look a little
freaked out. Everything okay at home?� She gestured toward the note still in
Dianthus� hand.

Dianthus hurriedly
composed her face. �Oh, no, it�s
nothing, just some � trouble with the ague weed. Grandpa says they never get enough sun.� She folded the parchment and slipped it into
her pocket. �Come on, Mel, there�s
Professor Incompertus at the staff table.
Why wait until tomorrow? Let�s go
up now, and ask him if we can partner.�
She put the note out of her head, figuring she could deal with it later.

As the days passed
and Wednesday night approached, however, Dianthus still hadn�t decided what she
was going to do. If she went to the
Defense against the Dark Arts classroom, she might very well find out what
Potter meant when he�d called Snape a �bad egg�. This, though she would never admit to being
afraid, made her lean toward not going, and simply heading for the great hall
as usual. She didn�t like this Snape kid
much. On the other hand, she didn�t like
the Potter kid very much, either. In the
end, it was remembering how Potter had patted her head like she was some kind
of pet that decided things for her.

She made her way
down to the Defense against the Dark Arts classroom feeling a bit
apprehensive. She fingered the wand in
her pocket, but that didn�t make her feel much better � she was, after all,
only a first year. She opened the door
and entered the room, and almost ran into Severus Snape as he stalstalking
toward the classroom door.

�You�re late,� he
sneered at her. �I was just about to
leave.� He turned his back on her and
walked toward the center of the room.
Dianthus noticed that he�d moved most of the desks out of the way, and
had conjured two comfortable chairs in the empty area.

�Didn�t think I�d
show up?� Dianthus checked her
watch. It was 6:34.

�I expect people
to arrive promptly to appointments with me,� he said, his voice cold, and his
back stiffening.

�I do apologize,�
said Dianthus sarcastically. �I wasn�t
aware we made a formal appointment.�

He whirled to face
her again. �Do you want to learn to play
chess or not?� His voice was even softer
now, but somehow more menacing. �Properly, I mean,� he added, with a
malicious sneer.

�That
depends. Why do you want to play chess
with me? Surely there are Slytherins
whose company you enjoy more?� She
wouldn�t let him bully her, she told herself.

He frowned. �The Slytherins cheat.�

Dianthus laughed
at this. �Well, isn�t that what
Slytherins are known for? Winning at all
cost?�

�Not at chess!� he
barked, and she jumped. He pounced on
her before she could react. His long
fingers wrapped around her wrist, and he bent down to glare into her face as
she struggled. �Do you cheat?� he
whispered. His eyes bored into hers, as
if by staring at her, he could determine whether she was lying to him.

�No,� she spat
out. �Let go of me, you asshole!� This seemed to work. He relinquished his hold on her, and she
sprang backward, rubbing at her bruised skin.

�So,� he continued
as if nothing had happened. �Why would
you want to play chess with me?� She
noticed that he looked away from her as he said it.

Dianthus took a
deep breath. �I�m not sure I do, after
that bit.� He gave her an unconcerned
and quite unapologetic look. She sighed. �You said I�ve been making mistakes. I want to find out what they are and correct
them.�

�Ah, the Ravenclaw
overachiever syndrome,� Snape jeered, a malicious smile playing over his
face. She shrugged, refusing to rise to
his bait. Now it was his turn to
sigh. �Very well. We both have our reasons. Shall we play? Abacus.�

He waved his wand
casually toward the two chairs in the center of the room, and a chess set
appeared between them. He offered her an
exaggerated bow, and she stuck her tongue out at him as she proceeded past him
to the white side of the board. He
raised an eyebrow at her, but moved without comment to the black side.

She examined the
pieces carefully, and discovered that they were made of marble, as was the
board, which sat upon a heavy-looking carved wood table. �This is a nice set,� she murmured
appreciatively.

�Thank you,� he
said, shortly. �It was my father�s.�

�Oh, I�m sorry, is
your father�?�

�No, my father is
not dead. He tired of chess some time
ago, soon after I beat him for the first time, and went on to other
diversions. He gave the set to me.� Snape sounded bored.

�Alright,
then. What mistakes am I
making?� It came out a bit more
aggressively than she had planned, but Snape didn�t seem to notice, much less
mind. He didn�t even raise his eyes from
the table, where he was already studying the board.

�For one thing, you
consistently move too many pawns. You
should only move enough to free your forces on the back row. For another, you move each piece too many
times. Move, and be done with it. That�s not the extent of it, but those are
two. Let�s play, shall we?�

�Don�t you want to
know my name?� she said.

�I know your name
already, along with everything else I need to know,� he said derisively. �How else would I have owled you?
Idiot girl,� he added, as an afterthought.

�How�d you find
out my name, then?� she demanded.

�I asked Professor
Incompertus in the great hall,� he said, vaguely. �Might we begin now, Miss Brandywine?� He looked up at her through his curtain of
greasy hair. �That is your name,
correct? Dianthus Brandywine? I described you to him. He seemed familiar with you. First year, female, Ravenclaw, average
student, appalling table manners��

�Look who�s
talking!� she choked out. �I�ve never��

�My point being, I
already know your name, and this entire conversation is pointless and
inconsequential � and eats into our playing time.�

�What year are
you?�

He looked briefly
at the ceiling, as if asking for patience, and then glared at her. �I am a seventh year, but that is also
inconsequential.� He cocked his head and
said softly, �May I ask what you hope to gain by employing these obvious and
ludicrous stalling tactics? Are you that
afraid to play with me?� His eyebrows
rose again.

�I am not afraid
of anything!� she hissed. �Can�t we have
a little chat?�

�Make your move,
Miss Brandywine. Time marches on.� He resumed staring at the board. Dianthus blew an exasperated breath and
looked at the board as well. She
couldn�t understand why he needed to stare so intently at it � the pieces
weren�t even moving yet. She thought for
a moment, then moved one of her pawns.

Snape turned out
to be an accomplished, and ruthless, player.
He also delighted in urging his pieces to demolish hers with each space
he took. Not that the pieces needed much
encouragement � they trampled with the utmost glee over her pieces. Hers did the same to his, the few times they
were given the opportunity, even though she didn�t tell them to. She wondered what kind of wizard had made
this set, and who had taught Snape to take such enjoyment from the unnecessary
violence.

Still, Dianthus
was grudgingly forced to admit that she could learn much from him. He seemed able to predict where she would
move long before she knew herself, and took advantage of every opening she gave
him. Again and again she cursed and
flung herself back in her seat, wincing as one of his pieces savaged hers,
shaking her head as Snape hissed, �That�s right, smash him!� or �Take his head
off, do it!�

Other than
directing his pieces, and egging them on, he spoke very little, save for the
occasional caustic remark on her ability.
Worse, he answered her timid attempts at conversation with grunts or
silence, until finally he glared at her and said scathingly, �Pray tell, Miss Brandywine, how may I induce
you to kindly keep your mouth shut,
at least until your skill has improved slightly? Your constant prattle wears on my nerves.�

Dianthus flushed
and cursed, and then complied � even if it did infuriate her to bow to his rude demand.
She turned instead to watching him.
His body was hunched over the board, and almost unbearably rigid. He was so tense, it
was as if he were expecting a physical attack.
Sometimes he leaned back slightly in his chair to run one long finger
over his upper lip, but his narrowed black eyes roamed the board constantly.
His lips moved silently on occasion as he weighed his options. His concentration was complete. It was, she thought, the next best thing to
playing by herself.
She might have been playing with the Bloody Baron, for all the attention
he paid her.

He beat her
quickly and soundly, two games in a row, but she was already picking up on some
of his moves, although she didn�t have a clue as to his overall strategy. Even so, Dianthus felt she played pretty well
for only her first time out. He was a
lot tougher than her grandfather, that�s for sure, but somehow, she enjoyed
it. In fact, she was quite frustrated
when, only partway through the third game, he stood and said, �That�s enough
punishment for tonight, I think.� He
didn�t say whether it was him who was being punished, or her. He waved his wand before she could protest,
and the chess table vanished.

�What the hell did
you do that for?� she said angrily.

He looked
mockingly at her. �Would you rather be
late getting back to your dormitory?�
She checked her watch, and was astonished to see it was 8:57.
She had three minutes to get back befcurfcurfew. She hightailed it
back through the castle to the Ravenclaw common room, cursing herself for not
paying more attention to the time, and wondering idly how he knew the hour �
she hadn�t seen any watch on his thin wrist.
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