The fire burning brightly in the living room illuminated on several people congregating in Albus Dumbledore's apartments. Besides his granddaughter, those who had taken seats around the fire, including Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and Professors Flitwick and Sprout, who sat at a table off to the side. Standing alone in a corner, trying to be invisible from the group, was Harry Potter.
"I still fail to see what the boy is doing here." Severus snarled into the cup of tea the Headmaster handed him, despite the fact he had declined the offer of it. He hated tea.
Desdemona rolled her blue eyes towards the heavens, counting to ten as she did. "I'm the one who invited him to this meeting, Sev. It affects him as much as it does the Order and us. Besides, from what I hear, every time Voldemort starts something, sooner or later Harry Potter is neck-deep in it. At least this way, we'll know when he's shoulder deep so we can do something about the situation. He deserves this, Severus. Before the end comes, he will be involved, like it or not." She clenched and unclenched her fists again in an attempt to keep her temper in check.
Dumbledore passed the final cup of tea to McGonagall, seated himself in his favorite purple-cushioned rocking chair, and began to speak. "First of all, you all know by now the events of three days ago in the Potions classroom. Obviously, Voldemort is capable of coming after one of our own, even from within his hideaway, which according to my informants is currently in the Swiss countryside. Why he chose this particular time to strike still isn't clear. But we must continue to work to bring his plans to ruin, despite the potential risks.
"As far as the running of this school, I have come to a decision. The charades are over. Everyone in this room knows that Desdemona is my grandchild. Most of you have known for years. The secret is out, and hiding behind a false name isn't going to change matters. There is no point any longer of concealing that little piece of information." He held up his hand to silence the protest he saw Severus about to make. "Desi agrees that the danger to her is inevitable. From here on out, there is no longer a reason to pretend something that isn't the truth." He smiled inwardly at the exchange of looks between the two: unflinching stubbornness and overt protectiveness. He wondered who else noticed. As for himself, he was grateful the feud was over; by the smile in his granddaughter's eyes, the past was beginning to resolve itself.
However, this wasn't the time to reflect on the past. "Secondly, a number of students have already, or will soon, come of-age. Many of our students have important decisions to make concerning the impending dangers that lay in store. Regardless of what their decisions are, we must ensure they are made freely and openly, without duplicity or misguidance. We must work to make sure those decisions are made with full knowledge and understanding, for if we do not, we fail them all." He purposely avoided the glances of the two of them this time, focusing instead on the rising vapors from his teacup. His guilt still overpowered him. The pair of them may have begun to heal their rift, but it didn't undo the damage he'd helped cause in the first place.
The discussion moved from there to pieces of news from the Order of the Phoenix. Intelligence, theories, strategies. Harry's head spun, and he never once spoke. However, he felt included. For once, he was let in on the inner workings of the Order, of Hogwarts. It was more than he'd ever expected; in years past, everyone had worked to keep him out of the loop; they felt it was best for him to know as little as possible. However, Drecorum had brought him with her tonight, demanding that Dumbledore let him sit in on the meeting. Hearing her call him 'Grandfather' had been a little shocking. Equally shocking was seeing her take a seat next to Snape, the two of them infinitely more comfortable with each other than he'd remembered them being. Then again, he thought, potential death had an interesting effect on people.
A few times he caught strange looks from Professors Flitwick, McGonagall, and even Dumbledore himself. Looks filled with compassion as well as acceptance. A wink came from Drecorum. Even Snape had stopped glaring daggers at him, and had simply forgotten he was even there. No small miracle, in Harry's eyes. After six years of quiet seething stares, blatant ignoring was blissful.
Harry hadn't realized the meeting was over until teacups settled on tables and chairs shifted. As people began to rise, the Headmaster made one more announcement. "Finally, a change will take place concerning the conducting of two particular classes starting tomorrow morning. There is no longer a reason to pretend that Severus is not qualified to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, and starting tomorrow the class is his. It should have been his all along, but circumstances what they were, it wasn't prudent. Desdemona will take over Potions. It is, after all, her strongest field of study."
Snape's jaw fell, his face a case study in surprise and confusion. His wasn't the only one; in fact, the only person not surprised was Desdemona herself. He finally regained the power of speech. "With all due respect, Headmaster, do you think this wise? Once it gets out that I'm teaching the Defense class..."
"You'll be in no less danger than you have been for six years, Severus." Dumbledore silenced the man with a look. "The fact that you're even here at Hogwarts is enough. We both knew this day may come. I repeat, the charades are over. No more hiding you in the Potions classroom to protect you. No more pretending to hate everyone and everything in this castle. And most importantly, no more of this animosity between you and Mr. Potter. It ends here, tonight. The Order doesn't need this. Hogwarts doesn't need this. There is no more purpose to it. Settle this, Severus. Now."
Harry stood in the corner in shock, the wall he had been leaning against supporting his lanky frame. He felt as if his world had just been turned upside down. Across the room, a similar feeling was shared by his professor.
"No more hiding me in the Potions classroom?" He sounded torn between insulted and perplexed.
Desi rolled her eyes at him, wishing for something to hit him with. A glance around the room showed nothing within her reach. "Seriously, Severus. It hasn't been made clear to you by now? As long as you weren't teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, you were safe. As long as you acted as if you loathed being here, Voldemort was free to assume whatever he wished. Until he reappeared two years ago, he had no way of knowing you even betrayed him. Until that night when he called the Death Eaters to him, he didn't know. As long as you acted the poor, downtrodden, sullen, angry, bitter, contestable Severus Snape, no one would be any one the wiser. My grandfather hasn't been slighting you all these years, you complete self-involved moron. He's been protecting you. Bloody hell, Sev, sometimes you're thick!"
"But...but...Potions..."
"What do you think I've been studying in America all these years? There's not exactly loads of countryside away from prying Muggles when you're hiding in a huge city. At least Potions can be learned in relative peace and quiet. Besides, if I recall, the reason you passed your Potions OWLs in the first place was because I helped you study for them. AND I was four years your junior at the time." Desi yawned, rising to her feet and heading for the door, effectively silencing his protests. "It's been a long day, and tomorrow isn't coming any slower. I have a new lesson plan to write, so if you will excuse me, I'll be on my way."
Harry was the last to leave, thanking the Headmaster for finally bringing him into the fold. With an admonishment to thank Desdemona, he offered Fawkes a bit of cracker and began walking to his dormitory.
On his way, he caught sight of two figures heading towards the Potions classroom, one inches taller than the other, who was dressed in scarlet.
The next morning, the chaos began.
Desdemona faced the seventh-years again, this time in the front of another classroom. Before students could register shock at not facing the foul-tempered man who usually cast admonishing glares across the room, she informed them of the change in curriculum.
"But that means..."
"He can't teach us half as well..."
"But what about the optional reviews?"
"And I was just beginning to enjoy Defense Against the Dark Arts." (that remark coming from Neville Longbottom's direction)
Desi held her hand out for silence. "Silence! Professors Dumbledore, Snape, and myself feel that this is in the best interests of the students and the classes. I've taken you about as far as I know how with the Dark Arts classwork, to be perfectly honest. There are some things I am ill-equipped to teach you. However, there are things I can do with a cauldron that Professor Snape has yet to attempt, talented beyond comprehension with potions though he is. Some of those are the most complicated potions known to exist. Current events being as they are, we will begin to practice these potions. You never know," she paused, looking into one pair of green eyes at the back of the class, who returned her stare with an understanding beyond his years, "just when you may need such a potion. They may be the difference between life and death."
Down the hallway in another classroom, the former Potions teacher began to teach his first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. As he corrected pronunciations and intonations with a distinct patience his students had never before witnessed, he prayed for the thousandth time that day that Desi and her grandfather knew what they were doing.
The change in curriculum didn't change one thing. Harry and Desdemona still held their late-night conversations, just in a different office. They discussed everything that they could think of, from Voldemort's origins to the impending future. She wrote letters of recommendation to the Ministry of Magic to smooth the way for him to become an Auror. That led to heart-to-heart conversations about their parents, both victims of Voldemort's rage. He asked her about how she dealt with the pain; she asked him how he dealt with his unwanted celebrity. Everything imaginable was free range for the pair to talk about at will. Only one topic remained untouched – her connection to Snape.
Sometimes he appeared in the doorway during the conversations, nodded at them both, and left. Other times he sat in the classroom, waiting their conclusion. He was trying to settle his peace with Potter, but it was slow going. Yes, some of the hatred was manufactured, at Dumbledore's request. Yet another of the charades that had gone on in order to protect everyone's best interests. However, not all of it was fake. He still hadn't forgiven James for the taunting and the tricks. On the other hand, in all honesty he had to say that Harry Potter was not entirely his father's son. There were pieces of Lily in his personality; more so than he'd ever wanted to ever give credit. He couldn't blame the son forever for the sins of his father.
That self-realization had cost Severus Snape a great deal of humility. It also didn't make him any less solitary.
Only Desi did that.
Tonight, he waited in his own office. Desi had asked him to stay away from the office tonight; another meeting, after Potter's, that she didn't want him to intrude upon. He sat in the darkness, perplexed. She hadn't been acting like herself the last couple of nights. She'd been spending hours locked away with Dumbledore and emerging as if she'd faced the fires of Hell itself. However, her pleading look to just give her this needed space caved him.
As Harry left the office, he ran into Draco Malfoy, running full speed and whiter than normal in the face. Draco shot him a look that could leave a layer of ice on a pitcher of water before smoothing his robes and strolling into the classroom himself, trying ineffectually to act as if nothing was wrong.
"But why would Malfoy scamper over for late-night conferences with Drecorum in the first place?" Ron was confused by the tale his best friend had just related. "Until a week or two ago, she taught Defense Against the Dark Arts. Now Potions. But why? He's not failing either class by a long shot, and I doubt it's for extra credit. Besides, it's not like he's ever going to defend against any Dark Arts, you know."
Hermione huffed across the table in the Gryffindor common room. "Honestly, Ron, why do you assume that's Malfoy's plan? Am I the only one to notice that Draco's been acting slightly odd lately? It's like ever since that day with Snape in the Potions class, he's been much more subdued. He's stopped harassing Harry, which used to be his favorite pastime. He's quiet and hardly eating at meals anymore. There's just something odd about him. Maybe he's been having second thoughts..."
"Second thoughts? Hermione, his family has practiced Dark Arts in one form or another for centuries! It's not exactly in their nature to suddenly go "oh look, a downside to being evil, maybe I'll stop." Ron spat back at his friend. "Besides, why go to Drecorum when the Head of his own house is a bloody former Death Eater? Why go ask her for advice when the king of all knowledge about things that go avada kedavra in the night rules all of Slytherin?"
That one stumped Hermione.
Harry discovered the answer that night, when he himself went to Drecorum's office.
"Not now, Harry. I'm sorry, but not now." Desdemona was pacing her office, dusting a mantle here, adjusting bottles of ingredients there. Nervous energy was being burned up at an incredible rate.
Harry was stunned. She'd never been short to him before, not like that. With a murmur of apology, he walked out the door.
As it shut, he heard the crashing of glass. Once. Twice. Then a scream.
He burst back in the room to find bottles smashed against the far wall and his Potions professor heaving as if she'd just attacked some creature who'd tried to assault her. Except, there was no creature. Just a woman in a state of rage and a room full of breakable items.
"Professor, are – are you sure you're alright?" He stammered the question out, still only halfway back into the room, preparing to bolt if anything flew his way.
Desi grabbed another bottle off the shelf, this one containing beetle's eyes, and hurled it across the room, watching it shatter into a thousand pieces like the others. "No, Harry. I'm not alright. And before you ask, no, there is nothing you can do to help. No one can right now. Not you," another vial hit the wall, "not Severus", another, "and not my grandfather." A final piece of glassware flew across the room. "It's wrong! This whole damned thing is wrong! He made a choice, and no one's listening, and no one cares, and everyone says there's not a damned thing we can do about it and it's Just. Not. Fair. He changed his mind and no one will listen, and now his life is going to be decided for him unless someone does something. I don't give a damn who tries to stop me. I'm not going to stand aside and let his life be ruined just because of some cosmic plan that he had nothing to do with! I WON'T!" Having run out of potions ingredients close at hand, she began kicking desks around the room in a violent rage. Harry stood by the door, still prepared to bolt, completely shocked and unsure of how to cope with this angry, out-of-control terror that had replaced Professor Drecorum, but not willing to leave her alone to her fury.
Suddenly, the tantrum ceased. Desdemona's head jerked as she spotted something in the distance outside through the small window that barely showed above the ground. Without a single word to Harry, she stormed out of the classroom, half-running down the hallway.
Harry ran to the window to see what caught her attention. In the distance he saw two figures heading towards the village of Hogsmeade. One was marching with purpose while dragging the other, who struggled to free himself from the iron grip on his arm.
They both had white blonde hair.
A few seconds later, a figure clad in crimson was visible against the snow, following the pair.
Harry did the only thing he could think of to do. He pelted down the corridor, heading straight for the one person that came to mind.
Snape.
He found the new Dark Arts teacher in his new office, scribbling furiously on several scraps of parchment. Gasping for air, he clung to the doorframe. The professor's head jerked at the sudden intrusion.
"Potter! What in blazes are you doing here at this hour of the night?"
"Drecorum upset. Chasing Malfoys into forest. Something about a choice. Heading towards Hogsmeade..."
Severus stared at the young wizard in disbelief. "What?"
"Went to visit her. Throwing things, kicking things, screaming about choices and cosmic plans and no one listening. Saw the Malfoys out the window. Draco and his father. Struggling. She went after them." Harry was still short of breath, but had at least stopped gasping after every word.
Snape turned whiter than Harry had ever seen him before. "Of all the insanely stupid, idiotic, grossly ill-conceived ideas that damned woman has ever hatched in her amazingly-lucky lifetime..." Snape's voice trailed off as he snatched his wand and launched himself from his desk. He was halfway down the hallway before Harry heard him yell for him.
"Well, Potter, are you planning to tag along or stay behind?"
Harry didn't believe his ears. Without a second thought, he found himself chasing the man who had spent six years making his life a living hell.
They raced down the hallways and corridors, out the front entrance, and down the path where Harry had last seen Desi chase the Malfoys, following footprints in the thin layer of snow that covered the ground. A few feet down they found crimson fabric: Desi's robes.
A moment later, they heard a yell, coming from the direction the footprints led.
"Lucius." The name hung in the air between the man dragging his only son and the woman who planned to stop him. She stood at the top of a slope, staring down at the two. Draco still fought his father's iron grip on his robes, while Lucius released a cold chuckle.
"Desdemona Dumbledore. I'd heard from my dear son here that you had returned." Lucius spun around casually, never once releasing his hold on his son. "I don't see your esteemed grandfather watching over your shoulder. Pity. I'm sure he'd be proud of you right now, marching along, preparing to fight your little one-woman battle of right over wrong. Quite amusing, really. You know, I was never surprised that you were resorted into Gryffindor. You didn't have the heart to be in the same house as I."
With every contemptuous line, Desi walked closer and closer to the arrogant man until she was face to face with him. "Let Draco go, Lucius."
Another cold chuckle came from Lucius Malfoy, his breath hanging in the cold air. "My dear Desdemona, you have nothing to say about this. He's my son. He'll go with me where I beckon him, whether he likes it or not."
"That's where you're wrong, my dear Lucius." She spat the words back at him in the same icy tone. "Draco here celebrated his birthday yesterday. Which means he is of age. You don't have the right to order him to do so much as tie his shoes. So, I'll repeat myself again. Let. Draco. Go."
Lucius released his grip on his son's clothing, shoving him back hard so he stumbled against a tree. "What business is this of yours, you overly stupid little woman? What makes you think you can meddle in my affairs?"
Desdemona shot daggers at the man. "I'm merely repaying a debt, Lucius. Remember what I promised you that night all those years ago? 'What you have helped to take from me, so shall I help to take from you'. I meant it, Lucius. Draco is not following in your footsteps, and that is final. He's rather live his life as an outcast in his own family than spend his life as a groveling lapdog like the man his father has become."
Lucius raised his wand, aiming it at the woman in front of him. He didn't have the chance to speak a word or make a gesture; a boot came flying at his arm, snapping the wand in half and casting it on the ground below. He stood in amazement and anger as Desi lowered her right leg from the sweeping kick she'd just delivered.
"You know what amazes me the most about you, Lucius. Your hypocracy." She began circling the man, her eyes never leaving him. "Your misplaced ideas about superiority. Here you are, acting as if the world isn't good enough to lick your bootheels, your nose in the air and your cold grey eyes sweeping over everything with a look of disgust on your face while, all along, your tongue has been permanently attached to the bootheels of someone else. Do you honestly want to see your son become like you; merely a pale and unworthy vision of your former self? You used to strut around these grounds, acting as if the world was your plaything, and now look at you. Coming to your master's call like a well-trained dog, always having to think of him before your own desires. You're pathetic."
"You know nothing about the Great Lord and his plans! Draco will become powerful beyond his wildest dreams, and there is nothing you or your bumbling ancient grandfather can say about it!" Lucius snarled at her, the force of his words causing his face to turn red and his eyes to narrow into tiny slits of total hate.
Desdemona smiled coldly. "You don't get it, Lucius. I don't care if Draco becomes powerful beyond his wildest dreams or not. I just care to make sure he doesn't become another lackey for someone as insignificant as Voldemort."
Lucius glared at her. "And what, exactly, do you plan to do to stop me?"
Desi chuckled this time, a chuckle that lacked any depth of humor to it. "This." Without warning, her fist came crashing into Lucius's perfect face with a sickening wet crack. "THAT is for Draco! And that," her foot came flying into his ribcage as he clutched his broken nose, "is for my grandfather! And this," as Lucius dropped his hands to wrap around his abdomen, she delivered a scissor-chop into his throat, "is for Harry!"
Lucius yelled through the blood pooling in his throat. This wasn't the way that wizards handled their duels. They fought with dignity, with wands, with words. His face felt crushed in, his ribcage as if he was wrapped in painful irons. He found himself on his knees in the cold snow in pain, an experience he was unfamiliar with. He yelled again as another kick landed in his stomach, making him wobble back and forth.
"That was for Severus."
Severus and Harry reached the same hill that Desi had stood on not long ago and came across a sight unimagined. Draco Malfoy stood against a tree, as if entranced from movement, while Desdemona, clad in muggle jeans and sweater, was smashing her boot into the bloodied and disheveled form of Lucius Malfoy.
"That was for Severus."
They raced down the hill, robes flying, as she bent down and gathered his hair in her hand, twisting it around her knuckles. "You didn't think I was capable, did you Malfoy? You forgot for a second I had it in me, did you? You forgot that I was placed in Slytherin, didn't you? You forgot about my infamous temper. You forgot that I've spend about twenty years living among Muggles. Amazing people, Lucius. More amazing than you'll ever credit. They taught me it doesn't always take magic to bring a corrupt, worthless, loathsome creature such as yourself to its knees. Sometimes, it just takes the right amount of force."
She raised her fist again, holding his head high. Lucius felt fear go through him as pain shoot through his ribcage, face and leg.
"Finally, Lucius, this is for the girl whose world you helped shatter, and the eighteen year old girl you helped destroy. This is the favor I owe you, Lucius Malfoy." Her arm drew back, and suddenly stopped all forward momentum. In astonishment and confusion, she turned to her right, and found herself staring into ebony eyes.
"Don't, Desi." He said quietly. "It's not worth it. He's not worth it. You don't want to walk this road." Severus' fingers began to carefully pry hers from Malfoy's white-blonde hair. "Trust me, Desi. Nothing in the world is worth that."
As Desi lost her grip on Lucius, he took his chance and began to crawl towards the nearby trees. A pair of legs blocked his path, and he looked up to find himself facing his Lord's greatest enemy. Harry pointed his wand at the wreck of a man crawling before him. "Petrificus Totalus". The wizard went stiff and fell over, unable to move. Lucius Malfoy sufficiently under control, he looked first at Draco, who stared at his father in silent rage, then at the two professors. Snape was holding Desdemona up as she finally noticed the blood on her hands.
"What have I done? What in the name of the founders of have I done?" She stared at her hands, at her clothing speckled with Malfoy's blood. "I was going to kill him. I was going to kill him..." The words became a litany as she sank to the ground in a state of shock, Severus's arms supporting her so she didn't fall.
"Potter, take Malfoy back up to the school, and fetch the Headmaster." He said quietly, his eyes boring into the young man before him. "I have the feeling he will want to take a moonlit stroll."
Harry nodded, taking Draco's arm and pulling him away. Draco stumbled, not wanting to tear his eyes away from the sight before him. Slowly, they made their way up the small hill and towards the castle looming before them.
Desi sat in Severus's arms, rocking back and forth, still softly reciting her shocked realization. Lucius remained stiff as a board on the cold ground. Moonlight shone down upon the spot, and the chilling breeze embraced them all.
When Albus Dumbledore arrived twenty minutes later, nothing had changed.