Right before he'd fallen unconscious, Severus had hoped the first sight he'd see when he opened his eyes was either Desi staring back at him or an obvious sign he'd died and gone on to the world beyond.
Instead, he got a werewolf.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Welcome to the world of the living, Severus." Lupin rolled his eyes at the greeting he'd just received, marked his place in his book with a slip of parchment, and placed it on a side table. What a wonderful greeting from a man who had just regained consciousness. He still didn't get what Des saw in him. The man was disagreeable and rude and argumentative...
...and inexplicably loyal and self-sacrificing, he did have to admit. He'd been there when he turned from Voldemort all those years ago. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn't believe it.
Still didn't explain why his little sister fancied the man.
"Why, Des? Twenty-five years you spent in America. I know damned good and well you didn't spend them all celibate and in waiting for your one true love. Why open this door again? Hasn't he brought you enough pain?"
"I can't explain it, Remus, to you or anyone else. I hardly get it myself. There's just something about him that pulls me in. He intrigues me, he fascinates me, and frankly, he just makes me feel complete. Gods, I sound like a bad Muggle romance novel."
"And what if he breaks your heart all over again, Des? I can't sit and watch him do that to you a second time. I won't. I'll make him join the monthly moonwatchers membership before I let him hurt you again."
"It's different this time around."
"How so? Besides the obvious age difference and the fact that he's not beating for the other team anymore?"
"Last time, he never said he loved me."
The problem with that logic was simple. Remus Lupin didn't think he was capable of that particular emotion.
Severus strained to push himself into a sitting position, his left arm still feeling like it'd been removed and reattached with only a rusty knife and a dull needle. "Where's Desi?"
"Probably asleep in your apartments again. We sent her to bed a few hours ago since she looked less lively than you. She's been spending what little free time she's allowed herself there the last few days. Since you weren't exactly in the state of mind to disagree with her, she kipped there so I could have a place to sleep. Somehow, she thought you'd appreciate me keeping out of your rooms." Lupin offered the patient a glass of water.
He gulped it down, and then tried to get out of the hospital bed.
It didn't exactly happen easily.
Lupin let him struggle, the stubborn idiot. "You've been unconscious for three days. Don't you think you should take it easy?"
Snape shot him an evil glance.
Lupin nodded. He truly hadn't expected anything but stubbornness and pride from the greasy-haired git. Merlin's Beard, the man couldn't bend enough to ask for a little help, could he? "Ok, ok. Here, drink this." He offered the near-invalid a goblet filled with a steaming brew. "Des has had a cauldron of this made up since I got here and kept a warming spell on the cup. Said it'll help give you back some strength when you woke up."
Snape downed the liquid in one long gulp, grimacing at the taste. The longer the strengthening potion steeped, the stronger it got, but the worse the taste grew.
Why dilute a potion with honey or sugar just to make it go down smoother?
Desi had been the one to explain that concept to him her first year as a student, when he kept failing at this same potion during OWL studies. What gave a girl barely twelve the right to be better at the subject than him?
The taste ensured it would be effective. Within seconds he felt somewhat awake and capable of walking, which was more than he'd felt before. Rising from the bed he'd occupied for three whole days, he headed for the door without so much as a backward glance to the man who'd sat vigil over him for who-knew how long.
"Not so fast, Your Highness." Lupin stopped him. "Before you head to your lady love, Dumbledore wants a talk. With the three of us."
Snape glared at him. "I thought you said Desi was sleeping..."
Lupin shrugged. "I did. He meant you, me, and Harry. The second you woke up, he said."
Snape rubbed his temples. This wasn't what he'd bargained for when he'd opened his eyes. All he wanted was to go hole up in his rooms for a while and continue to recover from the transfiguration, not have a conference with wonder-child Potter and the man chomping at the bit to deliver a bite to his hide at the first opportune moment. His arm still hurt and the effects of the potion weren't going to last longer than an hour or so.
However, Dumbledore wasn't a fool. If he intended to have a meeting the moment he regained consciousness, there had to be a reason.
"Where is he?"
Lupin rose from his chair, where he'd sat waiting for Snape to wake. Not where he would have chosen to spend the night, but Dumbledore had been firm on this point. Someone had to sit by to make sure he woke and was relatively unharmed from the transfiguration. Since Des had gone to bed, the pleasure of spending an evening by the unconscious man's side fell to him. "In his study."
An hour later, Severus was finally allowed to leave the headmaster's office, his head spinning with the conversation that had just taken place. All he could think was how unhappy Dumbledore's line of thinking was going to make Desi.
"You cannot be serious, Headmaster."
"For once, Severus, I am completely and totally serious."
"Do you have any idea how inane this plan is? And I'm supposed to go along with it?"
"Are you saying that because you truly disapprove of it, Severus? Or are you afraid of the consequences you will pay where my granddaughter is concerned?"
Hearing the werewolf hide a snicker as, for the first time in years, the pallor in his face gave way to a pale shade of red.
"I thought as much. While I am gratified to know that Desdemona's opinions and happiness mean so much to you, Severus, I sadly cannot let them sway my judgment in this manner. Do you have any genuine objections?"
"None that will convince you not to do this, Headmaster. I've given you all the reasons why this may not be wise."
"And I appreciate your candor, Severus. You, of all the members of the Order, know the severity of what I am about to ask of you all."
"And you, Headmaster, know the severity of your granddaughter's likely reaction."
"Sadly, Severus, I do. And I hope that one day she will forgive me for it."
He was going to have to be there when he discussed the plan with her. Damn.
There were easier ways to die.
Sighing deeply, he got up the courage to open his own apartment door, praying she was sleeping, as Lupin suggested she would be.
A few candles still sputtered in their sconces on his walls, but most had died out. From the faint remnants of candlelight, he could make out glimmers of auburn mixed in with the black from his couch and blanket. She's wrapped herself tightly in the fabric, clutching a pillow to her chest, her body rising and falling from the deep breathing of sleep.
Part of him was surprised to find her there; why didn't she simply sleep in the bed in the other room?
Why in the hell did she like sleeping on couches in the first place?
Some things were never meant to be understood, he thought. Moving the coffee table out of his way, he gathered her up in his arms, moving slowly so as to not wake her, and using his last dregs of strength, carried her into his room. Settling her on the bed, pillows supporting her head and still wrapped in the blanket, he curled up next to her and closed his eyes, too tired to even remove his shoes.
"You want to do WHAT?"
Snape cringed.
He wasn't the only person in the room who reacted in the same way.
He'd known this wasn't going to be a good conversation. How did three grown men and one damn-near-there student find themselves threatened by a slender witch who stood just over five feet tall?
Right then and there, Severus Snape would have given anything for a time-turner. Anything to let him be back in his rooms only two hours before, waking up next to a much-more-agreeable version of the woman laying beside him who had stared back at him with elation shining in her eyes and an impish smile on her lips.
Albus Dumbledore returned his granddaughter's ire with serenity. He'd known it was a good idea to seal his office with the Imperturbable Charm. Desdemona's voice carried, particularly when it reached certain volumes. Severus had warned him last night she wasn't going to like this plan; unfortunately he had been right.
"We believe that we can find a way to use our knowledge of the Dark Mark to our benefit, possibly by adapting it for our own use."
The gates of Hell itself broke loose and unleashed a demon personified in auburn hair, flashing blue eyes, and wildly-gesticulating hands.
"Are you INSANE? Have you completely lost your damned mind, Papa? You want to ADAPT the Dark Mark into something for the Order?" She glared at the rest of the people in the room. "I know you weren't in on this. You were unconscious for three days." Severus cringed again. She spun to face Lupin. "Please tell me you didn't side with him on this idiotic idea?"
Lupin bit his lip. "Well...I helped with the idea formation, yes."
She roared. "You did WHAT? Have you all been hit one too many times with memory charms? You want to take the Dark Mark, which we now know is even more vile, twisted, and repulsive than we knew before, and turn it into something for the Order to use? Am I the only person in the room thinking?" She began rubbing her temples and pacing. "This is a bad dream. It's only a bad dream..."
Harry braved her ire and pinched her arm, causing her to yelp and stop her pacing. "Sorry, Professor. It's not a dream. We've been discussing it for the last few days..."
"Behind my back!?" Desi was shaking in anger. "You've been plotting this behind my back for three days?" When Lupin and Potter nodded, she actually yanked on fistfuls of her hair for lack of anything else. "So, not only have the three of you been devising a way to work this completely twisted spell to your own advantage, but you didn't feel you could trust me to help?"
Remus swore under his breath, crossed the three steps' distance between him and his sister, grabbed Des by her shoulders and physically shook her. It was either that or slap her, and given Snape's temperament, that wasn't the wisest course of action. "Damn it to hell, Des, I know you have a temper, but for once, could you just try to rein it in? Would you shut up for five seconds and just listen to us? We weren't doing this behind your back; you were busy enough as it was with two subjects and checking up on Rip Van Winkle over there every hour on the hour. You didn't need us asking to help with a pet project as well." He jerked his head in Snape's direction, who shot him a look of promised death. "Besides, we knew you wouldn't be thrilled."
She glared at him, but for the first time in the last ten minutes, managed to control the volume of her voice. "Thrilled? I'm disgusted with the three of you." She shook herself out of Lupin's grasp, glaring at the trio in question. "Hell's bells, how did the three of you concoct this plan anyway? And didn't you all just witness the aftermath of such an option? Severus just spent three days unconscious to get rid of the thrice-bedamned mark, and now you're contemplating making one of your own? My Gods, doesn't he give you every reason why this is a bad idea? Why don't you ask him what he thinks! Surely if someone in this bloody room is going to have the intellect to agree with me, it's him." She turned, heaving with anger, to wait for his commentary to begin. Suddenly, it dawned on her that the one person who should be agreeing with her was keeping silent. Too silent. "Sev?"
Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Why did she have to look at him like that? He swallowed hard. "They told me about this last night when I woke up. Given that I'm the expert in the room on the topic, they wanted my viewpoint." He unconsciously rubbed his left arm, which still ached, but tolerably now. "Not the greatest idea imaginable, but not the worst."
Desi stopped her thunderous rant in her shocked silence.
If looks could kill...
Dumbledore took the opening his granddaughter's silence afforded him. "Desdemona, I'd appreciate it if you moderated your language. Now, as I was saying, now that we have a fuller understanding of the mark and all its effects, we cannot ignore the fact that some of the benefits overweigh the risks. For example, knowing the whereabouts of all members at once..."
"Which can be done with a Venisumere Charm..."
"Or to be able to call them to us when vitally necessary..."
"As Miss Granger proved two years ago, a Protean Charm on a physical object can..."
"Or to be able to communicate with them on an empathic level..."
That one had her stumped.
Dumbledore looked at his granddaughter with eyes filled with age and wisdom. "Desdemona, we're not talking about using the Mark in the same way that Voldemort has. There is not a single member of the Order who would abuse such a tool, and regardless, if they do not know how to abuse it, the thought will likely not come to them. However, given what we know about it, if we can replicate the effects, it could prove a most invaluable source of strength and cohesiveness for us all."
She snorted and rolled her eyes Heaven-ward. "Oh, and have we all forgotten one teeny-tiny, small, insignificant yet awesomely-important thing? The Mark connects all of them to HIM, Papa! They're all linked through one person. One. This isn't a democratic little spell. It's control and manipulation and exploitation, pure and simple."
Dumbledore nodded. "I am well aware of that, Desdemona. As will ours."
Desi stopped cold. Something told her she wasn't going to like what she was about to hear. "And who will be the focus?"
Harry rose his hand, his arms trembling but his green eyes steady and true.
Desi paled. "You can't be serious, Papa."
Dumbledore closed his eyes wearily. "I am very serious, Desdemona. More so than I think you're giving me credit for being."
"He's only seventeen!"
"And the one who will be at the center of it all. That much is inevitable, and has already been seen. Do you think we can shelter him forever?"
"Do you really think he deserves that burden on top of everything else?"
"Do you think he cannot handle it?"
"I don't think he should have to!"
Snape coughed. The quarrelling family members jumped and turned to face him.
What am I about to do?
He took a deep breath, trying to displace the feeling he was about to face an executioner. "The important question shouldn't be does he deserve this or not. It should be whether or not he can carry the burden. I've seen what that power can do to someone; the ability to play God is not something that should be taken lightly. However, the ability for Potter to be able to keep connected to the rest of the Order in a moment's notice could be highly beneficial given his knack for finding trouble. He's exceptionally well-versed in that field, after all, and the walls of this castle cannot shield him much longer."
Desi's jaw fell. "You're for this? You're actually for this? I thought you were joking a moment ago. You're actually supporting the idea that we do something this insane and binding? There's no going back..."
"Yes there is. My arm's proof."
"That's not what I meant, you twit. If we do this, it's the end of Harry's innocence...."
"What innocence?"
"The precious little he's been able to hang onto for the last six years!" Desi wasn't angry; she was livid. She could see Harry blindly walking into such a plan, but for Remus and Severus to allow it...and what about Papa? "Is it our duty to heap more and more onto his shoulders? To expect him to do this? What in the hell is everyone thinking? Or are you?"
"Do I get to say something here?" Harry seethed through clenched teeth. "Or is everyone going to bicker around me and decide my fate for me?"
Desi shut up, turning despair filled eyes toward him.
Harry looked down at fists he didn't know he'd made. Letting go, he sighed and looked around the room. "I'm not exactly thrilled with this plan. It scares me to think of members of the Order carrying a permanent mark on their arms just to come to my aid or beck and call, and it scares me even more to know that some of those arms belong to people I care a great deal about. But just because they'd be similar to the Dark Mark doesn't mean they'd be identical. Professor Dumbledore thinks the two can be different. And he said they can be made into a two-way thing; it wouldn't be just me who could call the Order, I'd just be the main person. I don't know what I think; I see both sides. However, I don't want this idea to cause the four of you to scream back and forth and debate about the right and wrong of it all."
Desi sagged her shoulders and sighed deeply. "Alright. Let's pretend for five seconds that I don't see anything but heartache and destruction at the end of this road and that I actually see its merit. Why does it have to be some form of a mark? Why can't it be an object? A pendant or ring? Something less permanent and binding? Why a mark?"
Lupin chose to be the one to answer. "Because the Mark can't be taken away from anyone. Not easily, at any rate. What if someone gets captured? A ring or a pendant can be stolen or destroyed. The mark isn't as susceptible to tampering. It's likely why you-know-who chose it in the first place."
She sat down on the couch, holding her head in her hands. "I was afraid you were going to say that." Resignation and a deep sorrow rang in her soft voice. "So, the three of you," she said as she pointed to her grandfather, best friend, and resident love-of-her-life, "think this is a good idea?"
They nodded. She sighed again.
"And you, Harry?"
He swallowed. "I don't know. I wanted to hear what you thought."
"Once again, I was afraid you were going to say that." She rubbed her face and pulled back her hair, tying it with a spare ribbon from her pocket. "I still think it's a damn fool idea. I think this could backfire horribly. I even think it's the most rash and idiotic plan my grandfather has had in my lifetime. However," she groaned, closing her eyes and rolling back her head, "maybe you're right. Maybe the benefits do outweigh the risks. I'm just not thrilled about having a...a...thing on my arm for any length of time."
"You think I am?" Severus finally spoke up again. "I'm not exactly crazy about this plan, either, but Dumbledore has made some good arguments. And Lupin too, I suppose." He grudgingly nodded to the man in the corner. "I think everyone in the Order is going to be apprehensive about this. And that, frankly, is more of a show of conscience than any of the Death Eaters had. Myself included."
The shadow that crept across his face made her catch her breath, her heart aching from the sight. "And is there any clue as to how the rest of the Order feels about this?"
Dumbledore nodded. "I've discussed this with some of the higher members, yes."
She rolled her eyes. "Please tell me cooler heads than yours have prevailed."
He shook his head. "Actually, Alastor was overwhelmed by the vigilance and tactical advantage it would give us. He has always hated the fact that Voldemort always had a means of communication and organization that we had yet to develop."
Desi stared at her grandfather in dumbfounded shock. "You're kidding. Mad-Eye Moody agreed with this insane plan?" At a nod, she began rubbing her temples again, trying to shake the oncoming headache. Bloody Hell, if Mad-Eye agreed, there wasn't a way in the world she was going to stop this insanity from going forward. She looked up at the four faces staring back at her. "Well, what's stopping this from becoming a reality?"
Lupin drawled. "Oh, not much. Just the knowledge of how you-know-who did it to begin with. And since Lucius Malfoy is now out of our domicile and in the loving companionship of Azkaban's finest, we don't know where to get that information."
Desi smiled; not a real smile, but one that reminded Severus of a person on the brink of madness. "That one I might be able to rectify. But I'm still not a fan of this."
Her grandfather shot her a look that, in one second, allowed her to see the strain that this conversation had taken on him, causing her to regret much of what she'd said. "No one is, Desdemona. But sometimes evil can be turned to serve good."
To their credit, no one looked over at the man in the corner.
"You want to do WHAT?"
Snape rolled his eyes. Not again...
Desdemona stared at Draco Malfoy from her desk, as the young man's Head of House lurked in the shadows behind her. "It's not so much what I want to do as what the Order wants to do. We need your help to find the information that tells us how."
He glared at her through strands of white-blonde hair covering one eye. Professor Drecorum had damn near snatched him off his broom for this conference. Forget the fact that Slytherin had a Quidditch match in a week and she'd dragged him off the pitch. Forget that he still wore his practice robes, and desperately wanted nothing but a shower and to hide in his dorm. Forget that he'd already told Snape he wasn't turning into some do-good Potter tag-along.
Forget the voice inside his head telling him Drecorum didn't care.
"What do you want me to do?"
She sighed and pushed herself away from her desk. "Your father mentioned to me that he had the secrets to Voldemort's spells, written in a book that I'd never be able to read in a lifetime. However, I have the sickening feeling that you could. If I know Lucius, he'd have protected it so none but someone of his blood would be able to read it. Since you're his son..."
Draco swallowed. He knew exactly which book Drecorum was talking about. His father had shown it to him once, right before he went to Hogwarts for the first time. That summer day when his father had first spoken to him like a human being and not a possession. That day when he assured Draco his power and success would pass from father to son one day, when Draco followed in his stead. How proud Lucius had been when his only son found his way into Slytherin. How proud when he'd begun to show the same ruthless and manipulative qualities he himself had portrayed in his youth. How proud he'd been that night when he showed up at the school, waiting to take his son and heir to Hogsmeade.
Sometimes, Draco hated what he'd almost become. What his father had become.
He didn't want a predestined life. He wanted to write his own history.
And the professors confronting him now were offering him that chance.
He released his breath forcefully, causing some of his hair to fly out of his eyes. With a furrow in his brow that made Desi kick herself for placing there, he looked her square in the eyes.
"When do you want to go get it?"
Desi closed her eyes for a moment, quieting the inner rage she was feeling. This made the second young man she'd seen grow older than his years today alone. She hated doing it. "When will your mother likely not be home? If we're to go traipsing about lovely Malfoy Manor, I'd like to do so without running into someone who'd consider herself honored to murder me."
Draco actually doubted that sentiment, but didn't correct it. His mother was normally very withdrawn and quiet, but for some inexplicable reason, she loved his father completely. While he was at an age now where he could appreciate that his mother was less than perfect, he also knew she was far from the evil of his father. "I know she usually tries to visit him at Azkaban on Tuesdays and Thursdays, in the afternoon. They won't let her go everyday."
Desi nodded. "Tuesday sounds perfect."