"Mind letting us in on the little secret?" Ron shouted at Hermione's back as she swept from the door to the girls' dormitory and headed out the door to Gryffindor Tower. He and Harry were the only ones in the common room besides the intellectual whirlwind who'd been ignoring them for two weeks straight. "Why the hurry?"

Hermione looked down at her feet, guiltily. "I promised not to tell..."

"Since when did any of us ever keep secrets from each other?" Ron accused, staring her down. Hermione cringed. Harry cringed himself, hiding his face in his suddenly-very-engrossing History of Magic textbook. If Hermione looked as if she'd been keeping things from the two of them and Ron was upset, imagine how he'd feel once he knew what Harry did.

Hermione's eyes swept the room, dropped her bag, grabbed both of them by their robe fronts, and dragged them into a secluded corner.

"Um, Hermione, there's no one here."

"I know, Ron! But someone could walk in at any second." Hermione breathed deeply. "I've been helping Professor Drecorum with some research."

Ron rolled his eyes. "THAT's the big secret?"

"No! But this is. You know that her strong suit is Potions, right?" They nodded. "And right after that is Defense Against the Dark Arts. Her weakest area, on the other hand, is Transfiguration. That's what I've been helping her with. She's working on an incredibly complex type of transfiguration, and I've been helping her research how to do it."

Harry had a deep suspicion that this was not going anywhere pleasant. Flashes of memories of conversations raced through his head: conversations with Drecorum after the incident in their Potions class, about Voldemort and the Death Eaters... and the Dark Mark. Struggling to find his voice, he quietly voiced his question. "What kind of transfiguration, exactly, Hermione?"

She bit her lip before telling. "Partial and permanent. She's trying to come up with a way to transfigure one part of an object without having to transfigure the entire thing. Drecorum tried looking up anything potion related, but the closest thing imaginable is the Polyjuice Potion, and she doesn't think there's any way to revise that potion to make it more permanent in nature. Anyway, once she figured that out, and realized that transfiguration was probably the only way to go with this, she asked me to help her look into it. And from the sounds of it, she wants to try it on a human, but she won't tell me. . She just keeps insisting I keep it secret and making it sound like this is highly important. I mean, I'm learning loads of stuff while researching, and it's great practice for my NEWTs, but I just don't understand what the reasoning behind it is."

Harry turned pale and stared at a distant point in the wall. "I think I do." His two friends looked at him in expectation, stunning him into realizing he'd spoken aloud. Swallowing, he faced the two. "If she's really looking into human partial transfiguration, I'm willing to bet she wants to figure out how to transfigure the Dark Mark."

Ron's jaw dropped. "But...but...SHE isn't a former Death Eater. Why would she be worried about that? In fact, the only person who IS a Death Eater and who would need the mark removed would be...Snape. But why would she be so concerned about that? Where did you get such an insane idea as that, Harry?"

On cue, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Ron, some days I wonder how you get through your classes. It's clear she's concerned about him. Don't you remember that day in Potions? She actually hurt Parvati shoving her out of the way to get to him, let alone taking a potion that, from what Harry said Dumbledore said, could have killed her if it didn't work. Personal feelings aside, don't forget that he's a member of the Order, and the only one you-know-who can attack from a distance. She's probably working on it because they need to find a way to counter-act the curse."

Ron still refused steadfastly to accept her line of argument. "But if that were the case, Hermione, why isn't Dumbledore or McGonagall working on it? They're both transfiguration experts. Why hand it off to a Potions professor who can't transfigure her way out of a wet paper bag?"

"I don't know; maybe because it's Dark Arts-related?" She ignored Ron's snort of disbelief. "All I know is she's working on this day and night. She's hardly eating anymore, and some days she sleeps in her office. She's worried it won't work. It's becoming almost an obsession with her. She spent her entire Christmas break working on it, even without me here. She's desperate to find the solution, Ron, so there has to be some reason important enough to make her work this hard to find it."

Harry had kept silent for these moments, instead staring intently at his toes, and the two finally realized it. Staring him down, they made their message clear: talk, and talk now.

Harry gulped. Well, he was finally going to learn how mad Ron would be when he found out he'd been keeping secrets from him. Praying that neither Drecorum nor Snape ever found out he was revealing what he wasn't supposed to know, he finally began to whisper. "I don't think the Order has any idea she's doing this. I doubt even Dumbledore or McGonagall knows. I think she's doing it to save Snape's life."

Ron snorted. "But why would she do that if the Order didn't ask her to? I mean, besides it being the decent and human thing to do and all. I mean, she's saved his life once already, but still..."

Harry fumbled for the words. He couldn't say it; he found himself entirely too embarrassed. He'd have to admit he knew far more than he was willing to let on. Sometimes there were things even friends couldn't share. Instead, he withdrew a worn piece of parchment from his pocket. "Here. Lupin's last letter. It arrived a week ago. Maybe it'll clear things up for you."

Hermione and Ron each grabbed a side and read it together.

"...so from what I hear, Desdemona Dumbledore and Severus Snape are an item again? I always wondered what happened between them. She used to tag along behind him all the time. Even jinxed your father's broom once right before a match against Ravenclaw because he'd made fun of Snape in Potions class. Then one day, poof! That was the end of that and he became an even more insufferable loner than he'd been before. Imagine my surprise when Moody let that little piece of information drop when Malfoy came to stay with us..."

Hermione and Ron stared at the parchment in disbelief.

Harry nodded, a sheepish look on his face. "That's why she's working on that transfiguration thing with Hermione. If she can figure out a way to undo the mark, Snape's safe from Voldemort. It's the only explanation that fits."

"Why are you hiding, Desi?" The familiar voice wafted through the classroom as Desi worked furiously, three different cauldrons bubbling at once. Her auburn hair hung in damp waves, pulled back with a ribbon, her robes hanging off a random chair. Instead of normal wizarding wear, she was once again clad in jeans and t-shirt.

He'd never understand her fixation with Muggle fashion.

"I'm not hiding, Sev. I'm in my classroom. I told you I was busy working on something." Her voice echoed with distraction as she carefully chopped belladonna roots into the tiniest of pieces.

"You know, there is an easier way to do that."

"Yes, I'm well aware. But sometimes doing things with my hands instead of magic is more satisfying, Sev. What do you want?"

Snape was taken aback by the lack of emotion and almost mechanical nature to her words. "To know what you're up to. You've been 'in your classroom' for a week straight from sunup to sundown. That doesn't include the weeks of pouring over books in the library and the insane hours you've been keeping for close to a month now. Hell, Desi, Christmas Day came and went and you still found time to be in the Restricted Section."

"Wasn't aware that you were such an advocate for holidays. In fact, if I remember correctly, you were avoiding the frivolity as much as I was."

Her monotone worried him; she didn't usually have so little emotion or affect in her voice. In fact, she sounded a little like...well, like he did most the time. "When was the last time you've even eaten?" A knife blade pointed toward a tray of half-eaten dinner before returning to the roots. "When was the last time you slept?" Shrugged shoulders. "When was the last time you left this classroom?"

"Half past four, when I had to stop a fight between some Hufflepuffs and Slytherins in the hallway over some stupid bet involving Quidditch."

Well, a verbal answer at last. That was something. More than he'd gotten in a while.

He walked over and took the knife from her hands, trying to get her to look him in the eyes. "Desi, your grandfather's worried about you. Gods above and below, I am worried about you. And I'm not buying the 'I'm behind with my classwork' excuse a second longer. I've taught this class for over fifteen years, and from what I've seen, your potions knowledge actually outstrips me. There's no way you can be behind in your lesson plans. So, for everyone's sanity, will you tell me what you're up to?"

Silently, Desi pulled her wand from her back jean pocket, pointed it at the remainder of the roots and watched them suddenly fell to pieces. She scooped them up and added them to one of the three cauldrons, watching the mixture inside turn into a highly satisfying shade of pink.

Now all she could do was wait.

Too bad it wasn't the kettles she was waiting on right now.

"I'm working, Sev. Is that so hard to believe?" She swept her hand around the room. "I had to replace the potions ingredients I'd destroyed in my little temper tantrum, then I wanted to do some research into some potions for my NEWT students, and now I'm working on some potions for the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey asked me..."

"Madam Pomfrey never once asked me to make a potion for her in all the years I've taught at this school. She's more than capable with a cauldron herself. Nice try, but you're a lousy liar, Desi. You always were."

She shot him a look. "Really? Because I remember Professor Septimus looking very convinced when I told him I had no idea who had broken into his office to steal some highly dangerous potions ingredients. And I know that the head of Gryffindor House believed me when I told her I had no clue how their house banner came to be found hanging from one of the windows in the Owlery. And there was that one time when..."

Severus stared down at her, torn between wanting to throttle her for her obstinacy and laughter at how much like her thirteen-year-old self she appeared. "If memory serves me well, YOU were the one who broke into the office because you wanted to work on an invisibility potion because you envied James Potter's cloak, and it was YOUR idea that the Gryffindor banner would look lovely adorned in owl feathers."

She chuckled. "But you helped."

"Stop changing the subject, Desi. What in bloody hell are you working on in here?"

She remembered that tone. That was cranky-Snape, as she used to call it when she was young and desperate to annoy him. Sometimes, when she was particularly mischievous, she pushed just to see how far she could goad him, and this was just like old times. He wasn't happy with her right now. Some people may be hard-put to tell the difference, but she knew the fine line. He rarely swore unless really irate. "Sev, why can't you just let me work in peace? Why so many questions?"

"Because you're hiding something, Desdemona. I know you a little too well to buy your excuse."

"You only knew me for three years, Sev. I grew up in the meantime."

The comment hit him like cold water. She dropped her wand.

She couldn't believe she'd just said it aloud.

Without another word he stormed out of the Potions classroom, leaving Desi to sigh in frustration as she turned to work on the cauldrons before her, stopping one seconds before it boiled over. She'd hated doing that, she hated keeping quiet around him, especially about something that affected him so acutely, but it was the only way to get him out of her hair. If Sev had a clue what she was up to, he'd kill her. Or tell her grandfather. Whichever came to his mind first.

It was why she was in her classroom, brewing potions on a Sunday afternoon. It helped her clear her mind while waiting to hear from her unofficial assistant on the matter.

Gods, she hoped she hadn't hurt his feelings too much. Damn, that was a bitchy and underhanded thing she'd just done. Pointing her wand at her cauldrons and with a whispered 'Evanesco', she vanished her half-finished potions and berated herself for the completely cruel and horrid way she'd handled that moment.

An hour later, Hermione made the cruelty worthwhile.

The two men stared at the professor and her student. The one in black had to sit down; his legs had gone completely weak. The one in purple merely stared at his granddaughter; the news she'd just delivered was nothing short of awe-inspiring.

Student and teacher exchanged contented glances. "Well, that got your attention, Severus." Desdemona smirked, shooting the man a look laced in self-satisfaction.

He simply sat there in stunned silence. He couldn't possibly have heard her correctly. Transfigure the Dark Mark. Into normal flesh? Undo the damage completely? No more pain? No more burning call? No more risk of death or torture?

It threatened to make him happier than he could ever dream possible. Well, besides the person who conjured the fool-headed plan in the first place. "Where did you ever get such a stupid idea in the first damned place?"

Desi didn't look surprised in the least at his reaction. In fact, it was more-or-less what she had expected. "I'm glad to see how thrilled you are, Sev. And to answer your question, I know that Muggles have a similar procedure in their field of medicine. I figured heck, if they can do it, I should be able to modify it. Miss Granger was very helpful in deciphering exactly how to do it, since we all know what a horrible hand I have with transfiguration. I need to remember to have a chat with Minerva about giving her some extra credit in that subject."

Dumbledore stared at the badger before them, its white facial markings having been transformed before his very eyes into black fur. The animal, who still cringed in pain, curled up to hide in the back of the cage rather than the expected aggressive posturing that should normally come from being caged and subjected to magical experimentation. "What about pain charms, Miss Granger? Certainly the poor creature shouldn't suffer like that?" Dumbledore's voice reflected his awe; he still was amazed at what the pair had managed, especially given Desdemona's failings in his preferred area of interest.

Hermione looked at the Headmaster with a twinge of guilt. "That's the only thing we haven't been able to correct, Headmaster. In order for the Mutopriopro spell to work, it has to permanently change the subject. Most transfigurations are temporary when dealing with living things. This is irreversible. The creature has to adapt to the change and the more drastic the change, the more painful it is. You're not simply repairing or adjusting; you're completely changing. We tried a simple pain charm that Madam Pomfrey suggested, and it didn't work. The transfiguration counteracted it. We're not really sure what will work, besides extreme measures such as the Acupartio Potion, and that may not be effective either. We really won't know until we try it on a human."

Desdemona nodded in agreement. "Because of the nature of the Dark Mark, and the fact that it was meant to be a permanent feature, it's likely that the pain from the transfiguration would be far more extreme than what this badger's going through. Hermione's right. We've tried to fix that part, but it seems to be impossible. The body has to accept the transfiguration, and many basic pain charms or spells affects the body's ability to do so; if it doesn't accept the transfiguration, who knows what the effects could be. If we perform a pain charm on the badger, the transfiguration reverses, and his pain ceases." To prove her point, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at the cage, murmuring a simple pain charm. The black fur became white again, and the badger's temperament improved dramatically.

Snape pushed down the sensation of shock and fear and instead mustered enough ire to successfully glare at Desi. "When were you planning on letting me in on that little detail?"

Desi glared back. "What, about the fact that pain charms don't work? After you'd agreed to let us try it, you thick-headed git. You and I both know you wouldn't go through with it if you knew you'd likely be laid out for days in pain."

"So what? You were going to just let me writhe in pain? For days? Without any forewarning? You're more insane than I thought!"

"No. I had that base covered."

That response came just a little too quickly and calmly for his taste. "Don't even think about trying your little potion trick this time, Desdemona Drecorum." He rose to his feet to tower over her, trying to drive more meaning into his words. He planned to get through to her one way or the other; she did it once, he wasn't about to let her try something that stupid again.

Seeing him rise to his feet put her instantly on-guard. Desi wasn't about the let him bully her into any decision, and especially not this one. The price was too high. "Don't you tell me what to do, Severus Snape. I'll try any 'little potion trick' I choose, and you can drop dead if you don't like it!"

He roared at her. "If you use the damned potion and I drop dead, chances are you drop dead with me!"

She rose to his challenge, roaring right back, her bright blue eyes boring into his black ones. "I'd rather be dead than deal with your stubborn arrogance and overly-protective side any day! You forget, it's MY choice, not yours, and you can't take that from me!"

Albus Dumbledore gently took Hermione's arm and led her from the room. She went without a word, her eyes wide in total shock. Once out in the hallway, he released her. "I think they wouldn't approve of us eavesdropping on their little conversation, Miss Granger. Besides, I have a feeling this is less about the transfiguration spell than they'd like us to believe. Now, let's leave them to their discussion and you can tell me more about how you found the trick to this amazing piece of wizardry." With a smile and a gleam in his eye, he offered her a cup of tea in his office.

Neither of them noticed their absence.

"Why is it always about YOUR choice?"

"Because, you idiot, it was YOUR choice that got us in this mess in the first damned place!"

Severus ran both hands through his black hair rather than wrapping them around her shoulders and shaking sense into the obstinate woman. "So why can't you see that I should be the one to pay the price, Desi? Unless the transfiguration kills me, what does it matter?"

Desi wanted to hit him. Hard. Maybe something blunt thwacking him upside his head would finally knock sense into his overly-thick skull. "Because why should I let you thrash about in pain when I can stop it?"

"Because, you twit, I don't want the woman I love to have to hurt because of something that I caused!"

Desi stopped breathing, all desire or ability to continue screaming gone. "Wha-What did you say?"

Severus took three shaky steps to where Desi stood, frozen in place, and slid his hand down one cheek to cup her chin, bringing her eyes in line with his. His words came out in a soft whisper. "I said I don't want the woman I love to have to hurt. Not for my faults. Not for my mistakes. Not ever, Desi. You've felt too much pain because of me as it is."

She could barely speak. "You...you love me?"

The kiss he gave her left no more room for doubt.

She crept from the bed and the dark room, managing not to disturb the man sleeping beside her. Wrapping a spare blanket around her, Desi wandered to her sitting room and folded herself onto the couch. Her mind had been racing for hours, and sleep wasn't going to come to her. Sitting in the dark and clutching a pillow, she wiggled her toes and smiled.

He'd said he loved her.

"Why do you keep harassing me, Desi? Can't you see I want to be alone?"

"I don't want you to be alone, Sev. You've been alone too long."

The young face glaring at her through strands of black hair. "Why do you care so much about what's best for me?"

"Because I love you, you dunce."

Silence.

"You don't love me, Desi. No one loves me."

"Yes, I do. Don't tell me what I do and don't feel, Sev. It won't work."

Anger boiling over in his voice. "Listen to me, Desdemona Dumbledore. You don't love me. You just think you do. Love isn't real. It's some stupid word people created to excuse their weakness and their lack of common sense."

"You don't know that."

"You'll grow up soon enough, Desi. Then you'll see. Someday someone will hurt you too, and you'll finally realize I'm right." He stormed off, leaving the young girl behind.

A rustling in bushes behind her. "What do you see in him, Des?"

A chuckle. "The same thing my grandfather sees in you, Remus Lupin. Hope and potential. How long were you planning on spying on us?"

"I wasn't spying. I skived off from divination and was taking a nap when you two began your little bicker-fest." Remus's voice drew quiet. "He has no idea we're friends, does he?" She shook her head. "Thought so. Des, I don't want to see your heart broken. You're young. Go fawn after someone who deserves your attention. Don't keep chasing after someone who's just going to throw it away."

Desi stared at her friend through unshed tears. "It's not that simple, Remus. I can't change how I feel any more than you can change your own little problem."

"For your sake, I hope he finally sees the light, Des."

Desi sat in the dark for hours, replaying memory after memory in her mind. Someone had hurt her, more than she'd thought possible. But she still believed in love. Her parents had loved her. Her grandfather did love her. It was real, no matter what a seventeen-year-old Severus Snape had tried to tell her. She had never let go of that.

Even when she had let go of him.

He'd said he loved her. That thought echoed in her mind as she finally let herself sink into sleep's arms.

In the other room, dreams haunted a sleeping man.

"Look, it's Snivellus without his little shadow. Where's your little girlfriend, Snapey?" Sirius Black and James Potter snickered from a doorway as he trudged from transfiguration class.

Remus Lupin stared at both of his friends. "Leave it, you two."

Sirius gaped at his friend. "What's it to you, Moony? No, seriously Severus, what is it with you and your little girlfriend? Does Dumbledore know his little pride and joy follows you around like a puppy? What does she see in you anyway?"

James laughed. "Maybe she likes charity cases. You can't get much more pathetic than Snivellus here."

Remus glared at them both. "I said leave it, damn it." He stormed off, leaving the two alone with their favorite object of torture.

"One day, Snapey, she'll wise up to what a loser you are. She'll stop following you around and keeping you company. Then you'll be all alone again. She won't be around forever. You don't deserve a little shadow like her, and you know it." With that premonition, Black and Potter sauntered off.

Anger burned in his chest.

They were right.

He made his way to the common room of Slytherin, hoping to sneak into his dormitory and hide. He wasn't that lucky.

"Severus, just the person I was looking for." Lucius Malfoy stepped from behind a chair to speak with the young man that had just walked into his path.

He shot awake, gasping for air in the still and darkness. The memory felt as sharp and real as it had the very day the words were spoken, and genuine anger poured through him, waking him completely. Blindly, Severus reached over to where she'd been, but his hand only touched empty pillow. Panic in his heart, he flew from the bedroom only to find her curled up on the couch, clutching a pillow to her chest, apparently asleep.

Kneeling on the floor beside the worn couch, Severus reached up to smooth back the curtain of hair that covered her cheek. They'd been right, Black and Potter. He didn't deserve her. He wasn't worthy of someone caring whether or not he lived or died, let alone if he was in pain or comfort. He'd had his chance twenty-five years ago, and he'd thrown it away. He didn't deserve a second chance to have her in his life. He'd tried telling Desi that same thing hours before.

Her response had been to tell him to shut up before she hexed him.

The dream still fresh in his mind, he made himself two promises. The first was that he'd never do anything to hurt Desi again. The other one was to keep that memory secret from her for the rest of his life.

He'd never told her what James and Sirius had said that day to convince him to do what he did. She didn't need that weight on her conscience. She never needed to know that he'd become a Death Eater because someone told him he didn't deserve her love.