Dianthus Stories | By : icewomin Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female Views: 3127 -:- 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
Nine. It’s also the beginning of Section
Two, which picks up the story of Dianthus as she begins her seventh and final
year at Hogwarts.
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.
*****
Section Two –
N.E.W.T. Level
Chapter Nine –
Failure
It was late
afternoon on another lovely day in Chapel Porth. The summer sun shone through the windows of a
greenhouse overlooking the sea. Sea
gulls cried as they circled the beaches below the cliff, and the air was
scented with salt from the waves crashing relentlessly on the sand. Inside the greenhouse, however, a sen
en
year old girl was oblivious to the weather, the birds, and the sea breeze. She was peering intently into a small black
cauldron bubbling on the trestle table in front of her, and for the moment,
nothing else mattered.
“Come on, now,”
the girl muttered, brushing a stray lock of brown hair out of her face, and
stirring the thick purple solution one more time. Suddenly, the liquid turned bright blue, and
congealed. Almost instantly its
consistency was closer to paste than to honey, which was what the girl had been
hoping for. “God damn it!” she bellowed,
yanking a wooden spoon from the ruined potion.
“God damn it!” She jerked her
wand out of the pocket of her summer robe and grumbled, “Evanesco.” The liquid disappeared immediately. She turned on her heel and marched from the
greenhouse, stuffing her wand back into her pocket as she went.
She stalked toward
the house, but halted when she heard her name being called. “Dianthus, wait!” Dianthus turned to see her younger sister
scrambling over the edge of the cliff behind the greenhouse. “I thought you might be done. Wait for me!”
Dianthus grinned
in spite of herself. Her sister was
fifteen, but still acted like a little girl sometimes. Aster was dressed today in a simple tee shirt
and shorts, and her hair was pulled back into a careless ponytail. “How did you know I was done, then?” she
asked, as Aster bent over slightly and panted from the exertion of her climb up
the short cliff.
“I heard you
cursing, of course,” teased Aster, after she caught her breath. “Not coming along well, then, is it?” The two girls fell into step as they walked
toward the farmhouse.
Dianthus
scowled. “No. I can’t get the consistency right. It keeps congealing right after I add the
miribilis multiflora.”
“Ah, well, maybe
Professor Incompertus will be able to help you with it, when you get back to
school.”
Dian rol rolled
her eyes. “I wanted to have it done when I got back to school,
Aster. That was the whole point of
working on it this summer.”
“I can’t believe
Grandpa couldn’t help.”
“He’s as stumped
as I am. It should work, damn it!” Dianthus kicked open the kitchen door.
“No luck, then,
Di,” commented her grandfather. He sat
at the table, going through shipping manifests for their most recent deliveries,
but set his quill down and gazed up at her.
Dianthus saw Aster throw him a warning look.
“No luck,
Grandpa.”
“Well, you know,
Dianthus, they say miriblilis shouldn’t be ingested–”
“I know, Grandpa,
but I’ve been researching it all summer, and if I can get the balance right
between the miribilis and the aconite, the stomach should be able to process it
without damage. Then the potion would
work, I know it will.”
She sighed, almost
as irritated by his calm demeanor as by her continued lack of success in the
greenhouse. “Is there any tea?”
“On the stove,
love,” he grandfather repliedturnturning his attention to the sheaf of
parchment in front of him. “Aster, will
you be able to help me with this paperwork later?”
“I guess so. Let me take a shower and I’ll be right down.”
There was just a
hint of sulkiness in Aster’s voice, which both Dianthus and her grandfather
ignored. As she started the tea,
Dianthus watched her sister’s brown ponytail swish around the corner out of the
kitchen. Physically, they could almost
have been twins. Both girls had brownish
red hair, dark blue eyes, and a fair complexion. Aster spent much more time in the sun than
Dianthus, however, and thus sported freckles most of the year. Although she was almost two years the
younger, Aster was slightly taller, but both girls shared the same nondescript
build that made Aster despair of ever finding a boyfriend.
The similarities
ended with their physical appearance.
Aster had always been outgoing and fun loving, roving the farm and its
surrounding countryside. She still
climbed trees and often rode one of the farm’s horses to visit their various
neighbors in town. Aster was boy-crazy
as well, and their grandfather told them he thought that was pretty natural,
but she’d better keep it under control.
Dianthus had leaned more toward bookish when she was young – she
preferred to be called ‘studious’ these days.
She wasn’t a tomboy by any means, but she had never gone in for perfume
or makeup, even as her roommates at school discovered these things and zealously
proclaimed their worth to her. It was
just too much trouble, she told them.
And of course,
Dianthus was a witch, while Aster had inherited the Squib genes. Both of their parents had been Squibs, no
magic in them ll.
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