A hand on her shoulder shook her awake. Her entire body felt stiff and cold, and dried tears on her cheeks made her skin feel tight. With a start, Desi realized she'd fallen asleep on her office floor. Cried herself to sleep, more like it. From the amount of sunlight beaming in, it was mid-morning at the earliest.

Severus pulled her up to a sitting position, leaning her back against the side of her desk for support, and then brushed curls away from her left cheek. "I've spent the better part of an hour reciting potions alphabetically at the door to this office, trying to get in. I have to admit, I would have expected it to be 'wolfsbane', not 'veritaserum'." Lowering himself into a seated position on the floor as well, he faced Desi. "I think we need to talk."

A low bark of a cold laugh came from Desi's throat. "That's an understatement." Wiping her eyes with her hands, she took a deep breath. "Well, this is what I couldn't say last night. I'm the new Headmaster. Or Headmistress; I'm not sure which one is grammatically correct." She gave a small snort of frustration. "Apparently, my grandfather has known for years that I was the next to be chosen. Part of the reason to bring me to Hogwarts now, instead of any other time in the last few years, was that he knew the end of his term was drawing to a close. So, here I am."

Snape stared at her. He knew this calm voice with which she recited this speech. It wasn't real. This was the voice before she lost her temper. If he wasn't careful, Desi could snap and fly off into one of her rages. Granted, he liked her rages, to an extent; on anyone else they'd look like temper tantrums, but on her they looked passionate. Her temper fascinated him like fire drew moths to hover around a flame. However, there were lots of antique-looking breakables in the room, and he didn't feel like having them fly at his head. "I didn't know that the succession had anything to do with bloodlines."

She shook her head. "It doesn't. Usually. The Hat explained it to me. When he's sorting us, he's measuring our potential, our depth, our character. He's looking for someone who is balanced among the temperaments of the houses. Not for someone who is clearly a Gryffindor or a Ravenclaw. Someone who could fit into more than one house. This way, when they're running the school, they have more objectivity. As you and I both know, I qualify for that. The fitting in part, at least. I'm still unsure of the objectivity bit."

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the images of the little girl she'd once been, wearing green and silver one night, red and gold the next. He did that. "So, it's merely coincidence that your grandfather is Albus Dumbledore? Or is it? You said 'usually'..."

Desi nodded, sighing deeply again. "It has nothing to do with Papa. The worst part, Sev, is that it wasn't supposed to be me at all. It never was."

The words hit him like a heavy weight. The look in her eyes as she spoke said more than the words. "Would you like to explain that one, Desi?" Caution laced his words. The look in her eyes reminded him of the little girl whose heart he broke years ago. He needed to tread carefully.

A tear glittered on the edge of her right eye, catching the sunlight streaming from the windows, and her hands shook. "Funny thing, irony. It was supposed to be my mother. My mother was supposed to come back here, to teach Potions of all classes. My mother would probably have been head of Slytherin instead of you. But then she went and got herself killed, so the Hat had to settle for me when I came to Hogwarts a year later. So, I guess, in a way, bloodlines do come into it, occasionally."

She'd known all of this last night. Hell, she'd known all of this before he got the Fire Mark on his arm. No wonder she'd been so distraught last night.

"Why tonight? Of all nights in the year, why this one, Desi?"

"Because it needs to be."

She hadn't looked surprised by the arrival of the phoenix in his bedroom this morning. Come to think of it, she had acted like she'd been expecting the bird's intrusion; like it had been scheduled or anticipated. So mechanically had she gotten dressed and headed to the office. Her face had been unreadable, even after he'd finally woken up. It wasn't the usual Desdemona behavior.

Of course, her waking anytime before the sun wasn't usual Desdemona behavior.

This was why she hadn't gotten the Mark. This was why she'd begun acting depressed and melancholy days ago. This was why even Dumbledore had become withdrawn. This was why she had been so insistent upon them talking about their future last night.

Damn. She had known this was going to happen, and there was nothing he could have done differently to make it easier on her. Damn, damn, damn.

He reached for her hands and held them, idly tracing the lines on her palms with his thumbs. There was no way he could make himself look up at her right now. Not for anything in the world. Thoughts swirled like a whirlwind in his mind. "Where do we go from here?"

Desi looked up, shocked at the question, let alone the quiver in the voice as it was uttered. "What do you mean, where do we go from here? Besides to my classroom to oversee exams?"

Severus just stared at her, once again blown away by the woman before him. She'd never ceased to amaze him in school, no matter how hard he'd tried to deny it to himself. For months, she'd shocked him time and time again. But now...this took the Snitch. She couldn't possibly make this easy on him, could she? "Desdemona Drecorum, I'm asking you a simple question. One you asked me last night. Where are we going? What do you want, Desi? I told you last night, whatever you ask of me, I'll do. I don't want to lose you. So, I'll ask you again: where do we go from here?"

Where in the hell was he going with this? Desi's mind ran in circles trying to understand what he was, horribly in her opinion, trying to say. Sometimes, the man could really slink around a conversation, never really getting to the point, and trying to decipher what he was saying could give her a headache. None of it made sense. And why in hell was he acting so bloody nervous, anyway? Fidgeting, not looking at her, stammering slightly. This wasn't a man who was characteristically anxious. It was like he was...

Oh God. Oh, hell's bells. Oh, Merlin's Beard, he wasn't.

Was he?

"Please tell me you're not trying to ask me to marry you. Please tell me that long-winded and utterly confusing speech was not a really bad proposal. Tell me I'm losing my mind instead."

He stared at her, jaw swinging wide open, dropping her hands. "How in the hell did you hear a marriage proposal in all of THAT?"

"But...you were nervous...where do we go...last night...oh, bloody hell." Desi curled up into a ball, burying her face in her hands. "I didn't translate that insane rambling correctly, then. I'm going to go curl up in a corner and die of humiliation now."

From what he could see of her face, it was a lovely red, but one that didn't match her hair. She looked as embarrassed as he felt. What he'd meant and what she'd heard had been two different things. He wanted to know if this meant that the idyllic months they'd spent together were over. She thought he wanted permanence. Two different things.

But how different were they, when all was said and done?

Throwing caution to the wind, he spoke up. "Who said you didn't translate it correctly, Desi?"

She froze in place, confused beyond belief. "This isn't funny, Sev. Either you aren't proposing marriage, in which case I would appreciate being allowed to die of embarrassment, or you are, and this is some bad, bad nightmare. "

He stood up finally, towering over her, black hair sweeping down to frame the angles of his face. This was not exactly the response he expected. In fact, it was as much the antithesis of his expectations as humanly possible. "A nightmare? You spend last night accusing me of avoiding the topic of our future for months, and today you ask me to tell you I'm not addressing it? I give up trying to understand you, Desdemona. Would you kindly just come out and tell me what in the world you want?"

Desi launched herself to her still-bare feet.

Oh great, Severus thought. There goes her temper.

"What do I want? I want my life back, Sev. The life I should have had. Not this insane roller-coaster of a life I have now. I want the life every little girl sees for herself. I want my parents to love me forever and be by my side. I want to fall in love and have my career and children of my own. I want to be perfectly normal and live in a world where I don't have to worry about anyone I love being harmed, or killed, or driven mad by some dark and terrible person with an inferiority complex the size of Europe. I want what I should have had, Sev. I want what I can't have. I have responsibilities and obligations and people who mean more than my own individual desires to worry about now. As much as I love you, I can't have that life anymore, so don't go offering me what I can never have."

Would she ever stop playing the victim? "So, that speech last night..."

Desi stared at him coldly, despite tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "I wasn't trying to pressure a marriage proposal out of you, damn it to hell. I just wanted to know you would still love me, still be here for me, even after this bombshell was dropped, even after you found out why I didn't get the Mark and that the Hat chose me and all this nonsense. I just wanted to know if I would be able to hold onto the last shred of that dream I have left. I just..."

Well. This wasn't what he expected. For crying out loud, what had she spent all that time in America doing, obsessing about the past? Part of him wanted to slap sense into her. "Who says you can't have that dream? Damn it, I never thought you'd forgive me, let alone actually say you love me. In a thousand years, I never thought I could have you back in my life. Do you know what was going through my mind as I recited potions for an hour? Last night. How you were right about us waltzing around the question of the future. How I've been so scared of losing what we have that I've done nothing to protect it. How I threw away my first chance with you and how I never dreamt to have it back. How you deserve to have some piece of that dream you just rambled on about. However, not all of this mess you find yourself in is my fault. Bloody hell, Desdemona, you're partly responsible for the roller-coaster of a life you have, whatever in the muggle world a roller-coaster is. You want your life back, Desi? Then do something about it. Take the offer, however badly I mangled the presentation of it. It's your choice now. Not mine."

Had he really just said that? A voice in the back of his mind screamed at him.

What in the name of the lowest demons in Hell makes you think you have the right to ask her that question? Where is this even coming from? She just walked back into your life months ago. Marriage? To a man marked for death by his former master? Are you insane?

He had no answer. Hell, he never expected to ask the question. Contemplated it, yes. Daily. Hourly. He had told the truth last night. Forever was what he wanted. For the first time in his life, he had something to hold onto that wouldn't spurn him, wouldn't use him, wouldn't play with his mind. For the first time in years, he found it easy to smile once in a while. He had a reason to open his eyes in the morning. He had a reason to breathe.

Everything he never thought he'd have again, personified in the woman who replaced the silly schoolgirl he'd pushed away.

Desi turned her back to him, facing instead a window that overlooked the grounds, the sunlight almost blinding her through gleaming tears in her eyes. What in the world did she want? For once, she had a choice. She hadn't had many of those for years. She could finally take possession of something in her life, instead of having it taken from her by fate. She finally had that chance – and she had no clue what to do.

All the pledges of love and desire, all the nights spent wrapped in his arms, all the secrets shared and the glimpses into the person that he kept hidden from the world didn't change one thing: the single last thing she ever expected from his was this offer. Even at thirteen, when she first began daydreaming about such a chance, she knew it wouldn't happen. He wasn't a marriage kind of person. She'd accepted that. She didn't need some ceremony and a ring and a piece of paper anyway. All she wanted was to be with him. The finer details didn't matter.

Hell, she was ready to slap herself right about now.

One question remained unasked for her. Why was he asking her in the first place? Was this something he needed for himself? Or did he think it's what she wanted? The last thing she wanted was for him to do something he didn't want to do just to make her happy. That wasn't fair. That wasn't right. It would be like asking him to say no to her grandfather, or walk away from the Order. Cruel and malicious. It would be like asking him to not be himself.

She didn't fall in love with a contemporary man. She fell in love with him.

The voice in the back of her mind spoke to her again. How dare you throw this back in his face? That took a lot from him to even ask the question. What makes you think he didn't mean it? Where do you get off taking that decision from him?

God, she hated arguing with herself.

Is it wise to jump into some sort of formal commitment right now? I'm the headmaster of this school – I need to think about the students now.

How is marriage going to affect your ability to run a school? Isn't that a little presumptuous of you, to assume your personal life will affect your work so much?

He's in the Order. He's in the Inner Circle of the Order. Why marry, when one or both of us could be dead in the year?

So are Remus and Tonks, but that didn't stop you from encouraging Remus to ask her out for dinner, now did it?

Voldemort's after me. That's why Papa left. He'll be after Sev, too. Just because of who he is.

So you're going to let some dark wizard who may or may not come after you dictate how you live your life?

Why can't we just hold onto what we have now? Why this question? Why now?

Her back still to him, Desi released a hiss of breath. "I don't know what to say. I really and truly have no idea what to say right now. There's so much to think about..."

A hand on her shoulder silenced the thoughts in her mind. Desi felt herself being turned around to face the man who was asking her for something she never thought she'd be asked to give. "I know there is. I didn't come here planning to ask you that question, Desi. I just needed to understand what happened this morning. Why you were the new Headmaster. Why Dumbledore left. What this means for the future." Severus bit his lip, suddenly more nervous than he'd been when he opened his mouth without thinking, moments ago. "Desi, I promise, I didn't expect to have those words come out of my mouth, but they did. I told you last night, I want to be with you for as long as we can be together. We both have a world of things to think about. Don't answer now. Just remember the question."

Desdemona felt as if her world had turned upside down in a day. Her papa was gone. She now ran all of Hogwarts. The Sorting Hat had given her a history lesson on the Drecorum side of her family. Out of nowhere, Sev had given her a half-hearted and distorted marriage proposal. All she wanted was to close her eyes and pretend she was still in bed, wrapped in a cashmere blanket and sheets that smelled like pine needles, curled next to the man she loved. Not this tangled web of existence.

What was that muggle expression she liked? Oh yes. 'And people in Hell wanted ice water'.

Overwhelmed by the whirling thoughts in her mind, she did the one thing that felt completely normal. She buried her face in Sev's shoulder, the black cloth there slowly becoming damp with tears as she shook, sobbing, in his arms, in the middle of her grandfather's old office, a songbird and an old hat their only companions.

Feeling helpless, he did the only thing he could do. He held her, once again, letting her pour her frustrations. He could only guess how many there were for her to release.

Ginny Weasley grinned ecstatically as she walked around the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall over breakfast, collecting galleons and sickles from dozens of people. Grumbling faces handed over coins right and left over plates piled with toast and bacon and eggs, goblets of milk and juice, and pieces of mail from the Owl Post. The coins clinking in her hands, she settled into a seat with a very satisfied look on her face.

Thirty three galleons and fourteen sickles. It was more pocket money than she'd had in her whole life.

And all because she had an inside track on the betting.

"You really fancy him don't you Hermione? My big brother. Ickle Ronniekins. You really like him?"

A glare over a stack of books. "Ginny, for the hundredth time, yes. For absolutely no logical reason, I seem to be head over heels in love with Ronald whatever-his-middle-name-is Weasley. Have been for a couple of years now. And it's annoying me to no end."

"Bilius." Ginny snickered at the bewildered look the Head Girl shot her. "His middle name is Bilius."

"No wonder he never told me what it was." Hermione shook her head. "Whatever. I've been patient and nice, waiting for him to come around for almost three years now. I swear, Ginny, he has only a few short weeks left. I will NOT be wondering 'does he like me too?' while taking my NEWTS. He either asks me before the exams begin, or I ask him. He's driving me insane!"

Ginny rolled with laughter. "'Mione, I promise you, he's not going to get up the nerve. I know my big brother. It'll never happen."

Last night, roughly at two am when Ron and Harry came back to the common room, Hermione was ready.

"Ronald Weasley, I have absolutely had it with you."

"What did I do now?" Ron's face was a lesson in confusion.

"It's what you didn't do, you moron!" Her curly hair flew around her face as she shook with anger and frustration, and Ron began turning so pale his freckles were hardly noticeable. "I have waited and waited for you to ask me something since the end of our fourth year in school. I think I've waited long enough. Ron, do you like me? Not 'yeah, you're a great friend' like me, either. You know what I mean, and don't pretend otherwise."

He looked like he was about to puke up slugs again. "Um, yeah..." His eyes remained glued to the floor below him, so he completely was taken by surprise when she stormed across the distance between them, grabbed him by his Gryffindor tie, and pulled him in for the longest kiss any of the students in the common room had ever witnessed.

Ginny just smiled widely and started reminding people how much they owed her.

Thanks to Hermione Granger's ire and her brother's serious lack of self-esteem, she had more than enough saved up to buy that entire series of trashy witch romance novels in Flourish and Blotts when the school year ended. She didn't need anything else, really. Besides, she'd been dying to own the entire Pandora Candlelight collection ever since borrowing a few of the books from Lavender and Parvati.

The weight of responsibility settled down firmly on Remus Lupin's shoulders. In all honesty, being the new secret-keeper wasn't much more work, but the worry and concern attached to it all was overwhelming...

...as had been the conversation he'd just had with his little sister. His little sister, the Headmistress of Hogwarts. He prayed for the souls of students who tripped her temper. The idea that Severus had found nerve enough to half-ass propose to Des had shocked him speechless. However, that hadn't been the shock that had made him drop the cup of tea he'd been drinking at the time. The fact that she didn't answer him had driven him to do that.

He'd never understand those two and their odd relationship. He never had. However, he'd finally made his peace with it, and with Severus Snape, for her sake as well as the Order. There was no point to open hostility.

Lupin was just grateful that Des' prince still-not-quite-so-charming saw it that way as well.

The door to the study opened, and a shock of bubble-gum pink hair was barely visible in the doorway; it was the only sign that there was a person coming in the room and not half the library levitating its way there. Even from here, he could smell her perfume. It had driven him mad for almost three years now.

"Oh. Sorry, Remus. Didn't know anyone else was in here." Tonks was carrying an armful of books and scrolls, half of which threatened to topple from her arms in a moment's notice.

"You've lived vicariously through everyone else for too damned long. Sirius in school, then Lily and James. Even me. It's time, Remus. Time to live your life and not everyone else's. Do it for me, big brother."

Des had a point. He'd used the whole 'I'm a werewolf' excuse too long.

"Tonks, wait a second." He rose from the chair to help her steady the armload of materials as she tried to re-open the door to the study. "Let me help you with that."

The smile she flashed him, mixed with the look of gratitude, lit her face, just as the books fell from her arms. He rushed over to help her pick them all back up. "Thanks. It's such a pain, reading up on all of this, but I still have to pass annual reviews with the Ministry to keep up Auror certification. Why I let it go until the last second is beyond me."

Remus placed the stack he'd collected onto a side table. "You don't have to leave on my account. In fact, maybe I could help." Why did he feel like such a schoolboy?

Another wide smile crossed her face, and a twinkle in her eyes caught his attention. "Really? That would make my life infinitely easier, Remus."

Was it his imagination, or did she blush just slightly when she looked up? He couldn't tell anymore. He was trying too hard to remember how to breathe.

Severus Snape sat in a chair that had never felt quite right, at a desk just slightly too low, in an office that he never thought he'd call his own, no matter how many times he'd requested it.

Remembering for the hundredth time that he really was the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor made him dwell on the events of the last ten months. On the conversation he had with Dumbledore in a castle hallway, where he learned that he'd been passed over for the twelfth straight year, for a woman he hadn't seen since he was scarcely eighteen. On spending weeks trying to track her down for the conversation that desperately needed to be had. On watching her risk her life by taking a potion that saved his. On finally admitting to her how much she had meant to him. On seeing her crumpled in a heap, barely breathing. On the horrible way he'd asked her to spend the rest of her life with him.

How had his life been so completely changed in less than a year?

He wasn't allowed to dwell on history for very long. A cough at his office door announced that someone was waiting to speak to him.

"What do you want, Potter?" His ire at being interrupted by the young wizard who carried everyone's fates on his shoulders was tempered in a way that, a year ago, it never would have been. Another change that had been wrought by the passing months. How he had finally been forced to accept the son was not the father, and that all rivalries must finally be buried. How he'd finally seen how little the boy cared for the power gifted to him.

Harry stepped into the dark room, standing by the desk without taking a seat at the chair across from it. Since Snape hadn't offered the invitation, he wasn't going to presume. Something inside him had told him to seek out the professor; one of the rubber bands in his mind had woken him this morning with sensations of ire, frustration, confusion, and shock. Something had happened.

It wasn't until breakfast that he found out, in some small detail, what it had been.

"Sir, it's true? Professor Dumbledore has left the school? Professor Drecorum is...?"

The black-haired man nodded. "Professor Drecorum is the new Headmaster, yes."

Harry nodded. That explained why Dumbledore had pulled him aside a few days ago for a private chat. The man he'd looked to as a friend, a guide, and a teacher had left him with a speech about duty and obligation, about not forgetting his humanity, for it would be the one thing Voldemort would never take from him, and a last admonishment to never forget how his actions could affect the tenuous web that connected them all. He thought this had been some sort of graduation speech, some sort of last lecture from a professor before he left school for the Order, where he would remain until the war was finally over.

Instead, it was a goodbye.

The professor stared at the pensive look on his student's face. For all of the admonishments about lack of attention and care for years in a classroom full of cauldrons, Harry Potter had excelled at the same subject that had been his calling. He'd found little to ridicule or insult in Defense classes or assignments. In fact, all that he'd found was a respect for the boy. Extra sessions occasionally, practicing spells that most people only read about, seeing the determination in his eyes to be prepared for a destiny he would have gladly rejected had gone far in the older man's estimation.

If only he'd had half the boy's courage twenty five years before. Maybe some things would be different. Then again, maybe this had all been for the best.

Gesturing for the student to take the chair across from him, Snape pushed papers and books out of his way. "Why aren't you packing or celebrating or doing any of the other inane things you should be doing right now, Potter? Why are you here, instead of gleefully preparing to leave this school forever?"

Harry swallowed. "I don't feel like celebrating. And I'm avoiding packing. When I walked through these doors the first time, my life changed forever. I never imagined that when I leave this school, I would no longer be a student, but a wizard. Nothing will be the same. I'll finally have to face whatever future has been predestined for me, and I hate how little choice I have in the matter. It sort of kills any desire to party. As to why I'm here...well, I guess I needed to find out how true the rumors were, and to talk to you."

"Why me?" The small black eyes staring at the student narrowed in contemplation.

"Because you're the one person who can tell me about the man I have to face. Everyone else has spent the last two years preparing me with lessons or advice or suggestions or protections. Everyone else has tried to keep me safe or protect me from the truth. You're the one person who knows, better than anyone else I can trust, what Voldemort's like. You've never tried to shield me from something less than pleasant. You're the only one I can ask, and I'm running out of time to ask." Harry closed his eyes for a second, trying to shut out the feelings of respect and surprise that he felt from the bond with Snape. "This will end. Soon. Everyone has prepared me in every way but this. I need this one last lesson. Please."

As much as he hated to admit it, Harry Potter had just risen ten points in his estimation. Snape was floored. At the same time, a twinge of sadness crept into his mind. Lupin and Desi were right; the Order has stripped away any remaining shred of innocence the boy had left. It wasn't fair.

Neither had Severus' own childhood been. And at least Potter had managed to remain a child longer than he had.

Maybe there was a common tie between him and his student, after all.

He cleared his throat, causing his student to jump slightly. "Alright, Potter. What is it you want to know?"