"When do you plan to tell the young man?"
Desi jumped. She still wasn't used to a voice in a room that held only herself. She'd spent so much time outside of the wizarding world that even speaking portraits sometimes caught her off-guard.
This voice, however, was so familiar to her that she turned immediately to the source.
"Since when is a forty-four year old man 'young'?"
The Sorting Hat laughed robustly. "My dear Ms. Drecorum, when you have sat on a shelf for a thousand years, young becomes quite the relative term."
"I see," she replied dryly. "And what were you assuming I was going to tell the 'young' man, anyway?"
"Your decision, of course." The hat responded, as if it were the most natural reply in the world. "When are you going to tell him that you've decided on an answer?"
She stared at the hat with eyes wide in shock. She hadn't even spoken the words aloud yet. "How do you know...?"
"How else can I council the headmasters of this school if I don't have the ability to look inside their minds and their hearts?"
At this, Desi nodded to herself. Made sense. Her grandfather had always said the Hat was special.
"You're unhappy. Part of you is torn over a decision you've already made. I can tell this. Given the interesting lovers' quarrel I witnessed earlier today, I can only guess that this decision affects the young Slytherin Head of House."
The Hat was good.
"Remind me to never play poker with you in the room." With that clear dismissal of topics, Desi bent her head back to the missive from the Ministry of Magic she had received moments ago. As expected, Cornelius Fudge was surprised at the change in leadership at Hogwarts, but a gentle reminder that the school's leadership was out of his, and anyone else's, hands meant he accepted it begrudgingly.
The Hat, however, had other plans for Desdemona's time. "Do you remember the first conversation we ever had, Ms. Drecorum?"
She snorted. "You mean the half hour bicker-fest that went on in my head the first time I ever put you on? When I demanded to be placed in Slytherin because I'd seen Severus harassed on the train and you kept trying to force me into some other house and I told you I'd rather go home than not be in Slytherin? That 'conversation'? Yes, I do. Why?"
The Hat coughed delicately. "Because there's a misconception you've lived with for almost thirty years, Ms. Drecorum. And I think it's time it was laid aside."
Desi rolled her eyes. "You can quit with the 'Ms. Drecorum' nonsense anytime. My name is Desdemona. Or Desi, as my parents called me. Remus Lupin calls me Des, for some reason I've never gotten from him. Please, you don't need to hold with formality with me. And what misconception is that?"
"Perhaps a simple 'Drecorum' will do? I still prefer some level of formality." At her nod, the Hat continued. "You've believed all these years that you would have been sorted into Gryffindor that night if you hadn't begged me to place you in Slytherin. You've been wrong for years. It wouldn't have been either Snake or Lion for you."
Desi dropped her quill. "Excuse me?"
"Simply put, you're too balanced for either house. Both Gryffindor and Slytherin are very dominant houses; the people placed in them tend to exemplify the principles of that house to an overwhelming degree. However, you stand on the knife-blade of both. Living within one of those houses almost consumed you; hence why I fought you so hard that night, and why I resorted you that other night. The only reason I resorted you was to help you regain your balance. Otherwise, you would not be standing here today."
Well. The ancient piece of haberdashery was certainly full of surprises today. "And where exactly were you planning to sort me, had I let you have your way?"
There was a silence for a moment between Headmistress and Hat, before the voice lifted in the air again. "Most likely Ravenclaw. I considered Hufflepuff, but with your intellect, you would have made a great Ravenclaw."
She could see her younger self in Ravenclaw. If she thought optimistically about it for a few minutes. And squinted her inner eye. Hard. "I think I'm grateful I won that argument. And what do you mean 'help me regain my balance'? "
A soft sigh carried to her from the shelf. "When you ran to your grandfather that night, you were scared that Slytherin House would devour you, just as it did the young man you gave your heart to. You were closer to the truth than you knew. The same thirst to prove yourself, the drive to achieve power and control, even control over one's own life, would have taken over you if you had remained there much longer. It consumed the young man you begged me to let you save. That was why it was so necessary to send you to Gryffindor; to help you regain the sense of duty and obligation that was slowly fading in you. Without both sides of your soul, you couldn't ever be complete, and you couldn't possibly serve as this school's headmistress."
Desi's head was beyond swimming. She felt she would drown, quickly, with the insane amounts of insight the hat had given her that day. "Did my grandfather know this?"
The annoying thing about talking inanimate objects, Desi was discovering, was that they could only communicate with words. No gestures or facial expressions to read. It frustrated her to no end. All she knew was that the Hat replied, with absolutely no emotion in its voice, "Only that it was important to move you. Nothing more."
Silence sat between the two for a full hour.
"About that question I asked, Drecorum. When are you telling the young man your decision?"
Desi sighed. She thought she'd avoided that question. "Why do you keep asking me that? Which part of 'I'm not telling you' are you not grasping? Besides, if you can see in my head, why bother asking me?"
The Sorting Hat chuckled. She had a feeling she'd grow to hate that sound. "It's my job to point out problems in the headmaster's lines of thinking. In this case, I bother asking because I think you've made the wrong choice."
She had no idea what impulse kept her from throwing the Hat in the fireplace as she'd threatened to do hours before. "You can just keep your opinions about my decisions to yourself, you self-righteous, over-analytical piece of moth-eaten fabric! I don't know what kind of relationship you've had with headmasters in the past, but this crosses a line. I will not have some dead man's shabby hat tell me how to live my life. Is that clear?"
The Hat stood its ground. As much as it could, considering it didn't stand. "You still don't grasp what I was telling you, do you?"
"I guess I don't. Between my grandfather running away in the middle of the night, taking over the running of this school, a surprise proposal, exams, and my life story told to me by a hat, I'm not the most observant. Why don't you enlighten me?"
The Hat sighed, its voice sounding oddly exhausted. "The most important trait of being the Headmaster of Hogwarts is a sense of balance, mentally and emotionally. Without that balance, there is no way for the Headmaster to represent all four houses fairly and equally. Balance comes from a sense of being whole. In other words, Desdemona Drecorum, you need to be complete, mentally and emotionally, otherwise you're imbalanced. You haven't always been balanced."
At this, Desi rolled her eyes. "Really? And you know this how?"
The Hat ignored the sarcasm. "All those years in America, didn't you always feel as if some intangible part of you were missing? As if you weren't whole and in one piece? As if you were emotionally always slightly off-center? Always just slightly and inexplicably less than you should be?"
She stopped her sarcastic glare, her heart in her throat, no longer breathing. How did that – that thing know that?
"And now, you feel more complete. More emotionally balanced. Whole and centered. Am I right?" At Desi's dazed nods, the Hat continued. "When did that happen? When did the imbalance end?"
She knew the exact moment when it had. She remembered it like it was yesterday.
Visions of guilt, remorse, self-loathing.
Waking up in the hospital wing, the taste of the potion still clinging to her lips.
Three softly whispered words to an unconscious man.
"I forgive you."
Hadn't she gone through enough life-changing realizations today? "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
She could have sworn the Hat moved in a slight manner, resembling a nod. "In terms of your balance and stability, Headmaster, and as the counselor of the Headmaster of Hogwarts, I am encouraging you to rethink your decision."
Hell's bells. Why couldn't any decision in her life be easy?
The afternoon had passed by with some level of calm and normalcy, which surprised Severus, considering the turbulence that had come yesterday. The whirlwind of yesterday morning followed by the angst of his afternoon and the surprise heart-to-heart with Potter in the evening, broken up only by the dullness of giving final exams to his students, had given way to a rather boring day today. Grading was done, the students were packing to go home, and the end-of-term feast was mere hours away.
Gods, how he hated that damned feast. Every year, having to go through pomp and circumstance, having to sit there through speeches and listening to McGonagall sniffle away a tear, lest her students actually guess she cared, while the ungrateful children stuffed themselves one last time before finally abandoning the school and allowing the staff a few months of peace.
In all honesty, he didn't loathe his students. Well, not all the time. He just found the whole notion of feasts and parties and extravagance annoying beyond belief.
Where in Hades was she? Her note had been clear.
We need to talk. Three o'clock, my office.
Well, he was here, cooling his heels, waiting for her.
She wasn't in her office.
"She's running late from another meeting, Professor, in case you wondered."
The voice drifted down from above his head and behind his back. Startled, he jumped, literally rising several inches off the ground. Whirling around in a flash of swaying black fabric, he turned to face the vaguely-familiar sound.
The Hat merely chuckled at the young man below him. "Severus Snape. I haven't spoken to you in roughly thirty years. Time has been kinder to you recently than I thought it would be."
Severus almost swallowed his own tongue. He wasn't sure what shocked him more; the fact that the Hat spoke to him at all, or what it had just said. "Um..."
"The cool and collected Head of Slytherin House has nothing to say for once? This is a surprise, indeed. Why, it seemed yesterday you had plenty to say, albeit rather ineloquently, if I may say so."
Damn it to bloody hell and back. That Hat had heard that conversation? Listened in on them the whole damned time! If he didn't know how important the Hat was to the school, he'd hex the thing into the next decade.
The Hat merely continued, unaware of the wrath that simmered under the man's outward calm. "Of course, it was time for that exchange to take place, wasn't it? Long overdue. But, that is the past, and cannot be rewritten. The future, however, is something of interest. Yes, indeed. And your future, young man, has taken quite the turn indeed, hasn't it?"
Snape coughed. Young man? He was years past forty, thank you very little! "What do you mean?"
"Well, the boy I met all those years ago, the lost, scared, angry boy I placed in Slytherin, has definitely gone through some changes. No longer the victim, the pawn to others' schemes and whims. Finally able to stand on his own feet, finally confident enough in himself to make choices he'd been too frightened to make, and definitely finally capable of letting the past remain in the past. Things you weren't capable of doing a short while ago. No, you were too hesitant, too unsure to follow your own heart or mind, which was what made you the perfect follower, the perfect protégé for men like Voldemort and Dumbledore."
Despite the man's jaw hanging wide open, the Hat continued its commentary. "You know, Dumbledore always felt guilty for what he did to you, using your feelings for Desdemona to convince you to join the Order. He said it wasn't right, because everyone else had used you to their advantage. Your father, the bullies you faced here, Voldemort, Dumbledore. Sometimes, I wondered if you'd ever be able to work past all of that and stand on your own."
Severus' mind whirled, his heart in his throat. Images he'd spent years pushing down into a well of forgottenness, all rising to the surface at the words from the shabby looking hat on a high shelf. He never wanted to remember some of those moments.
Some could never be forgotten.
The Hat filled the silence in the air. "I must admit, I had my doubts as to whether or not you could ever find your true self amidst all the pain and hate you carried in your heart for so many years. Dumbledore and I had quite a few conversations about it, actually. I can only look in your mind, see the potential locked away. Affairs of the heart are not my domain. I have to say, I was wrong. You have finally grown into the person you should have been, Severus Snape. And now you stand on the cusp of something new. Your future is not the same as it was a year ago. No longer the pawn on the chess board, but rather the player. It suits you. Both of you, actually. She needs someone who can command the board, not follow her direction."
"What in the deepest circle of Hell are you blathering about?" Above everything on the planet, above Voldemort, his father, most of the Gryffindor students he'd attended school with, complete idiots, and anything remotely shaded with pink, he hated riddles. Snape wasn't a humor kind of person to begin with, and he really reviled the metaphorical ways in which the Hat spoke. It reminded him of Albus Dumbledore at his most infuriating. He could only assume the 'she' referred to Desi. But references to chess boards and pieces? He didn't even play chess. What was the annoying piece of headwear even trying to say in the first place?
The Hat could feel the confusion in the person before him. It carried across the distance in waves. Sighing, it continued. "If the two of you are going to follow your futures together, she needs for you to be your own person, and not the lost, angry boy of your youth or the vengeful, loathing cynic who has taught here for all these years. She needs someone fully equal to her, to help her keep her balance. As do you. You need her as much as she needs you, as loathe in admitting it as you both are. Without one, the other is less. Together, you both are more. You both must be whole, otherwise the other is incomplete. This is why things did not work out twenty-six years ago. You couldn't have kept your promise to the young girl she was, because you were not whole, just as she could not forgive the young man who broke the promise, because part of her was incomplete. History, however, has finally come full circle, and the mistakes of the past are not replicated in the present, so the future is more in control, and you both can finally move onto the path you so desire to walk. Which, I might add, is long overdue."
His mouth felt dry and his shoulders heavy from the emotional weight the Hat was heaping on him. Desi had told him of the conversation she had with it yesterday, when it told her about her mother and why she was headmaster, and as he stared at her relating the tale with empty eyes, he'd hoped then and there that the hat would keep all words of wisdom about his own life to itself.
Obviously, if wishes were brooms, he'd ride a Firebolt.
"Well, I'm glad I have your blessing." The snide dry comment slowly came from Severus' parched throat. "And I'm thrilled that the school's Sorting Hat finally thinks I'm an adult. It relieves me."
The Hat roared with laughter. "Sarcasm, Severus Snape, is a talent few can wield as well as you. However, it is not my blessing you need. For that, you need to speak to the young lady herself. Suggest a course of action, I can do easily. Convince her to follow it, is something out of my control."
Dark black eyes squinted as Snape furrowed his brow and stared at the hat. Did it just... what did it mean her to...?
The chance to question the Hat as to what it meant by its cryptic commentary died as Desi flew through her office door, completely out of breath, hair and robes flying, the dark circles under her eyes making her look as if she needed a nap more than anything else in the world at that moment. "I'm so sorry. Some of the school governors came unannounced and I had to meet with them and I was starved so I nicked down to the kitchens and on my way back up I was stopped by McGonagall, and I only just now got away."
He tore his eyes away from her as she threw a stack of papers on her desk and breathed heavily, trying to regain composure, to stare one last time and the now-silent Hat.
"However, it is not my blessing you need. For that, you need to speak to the young lady herself."
Severus swallowed and looked at her. He still didn't quite know what had been on her mind when she'd left him that note, and right now, she looked too frazzled to have any conversation, light or heavy. Besides, after the conversation he had just been party to with the ancient relic in the room, he wasn't sure if he could handle a heart-to-heart with the woman he loved right now. Hell, he probably couldn't handle reciting a limerick to McGonagall right now. "Desi, if now isn't a good time...?"
The unfinished question hung in the air as Desi looked up, startled, at the man who'd spent the last twenty-five minutes waiting patiently for her to finally get around to him. Nervousness filled her, until she forced herself to take in a deep breath and push it aside. She didn't have time for nerves right now. She had far too much to accomplish and nowhere near enough time to accomplish it all. Biting her lip, she swallowed another gulp of air, and with it, some semblance of calm rationality.
Gods, she hoped she knew what she was doing.
She crossed the distance of the room and stood on tiptoe to brush a soft kiss against his lips. Glancing up into familiar eyes darker than a moonless midnight sky, she sighed, looking every ounce of the exhaustion she felt. To be honest, he didn't look that much better himself.
Damn. She didn't know if she could go through with it anymore.
Girl, you don't have much of a choice, anymore, do you?
If she was going to be honest with herself, no, she didn't. "Look, I've got the school feast in four hours and the closing of the school to oversee, and we both know our days are booked solid starting bright and early tomorrow morning. I don't have time to wait for a 'good time', Sev. It's now or never. Let's talk."
The air hummed with excitement, as it seemed to do at the end of every term. Exams were finished, trunks were packed, and the students all gathered one last time in the Great Hall to eat, to say goodbye, to be awarded the House Cup, and for the seventh years, to stare one last time at faces they had seen for years. For a very select few, it would be the last time they sat in the room as students. For others, it would be the last time they saw these walls until their children came to take their place.
For some of them, this would be the last time they ever saw the school.
Desdemona hated the Great Hall. It was something she'd never been able to tell her Grandfather, or the man seated to her left. So many memories of the room. Sitting on this raised dais, wearing the shabby hat which now spoke to her with a confident arrogance. The day she traded in her green and silver for red and gold, and had to remember which table was now hers. The years of sitting in silence and barely looking around. The first time she sat there as a professor, too afraid to look in the opposite direction.
However, she had little choice in the matter. It was her duty, and she would perform it completely.
At first, it was awkward. Minerva McGonagall had to actually remind her to take the center chair, just as she was pulling out the chair reserved for the Potions professor. The silence in the room was deafening when the slender witch sat down in a chair that had been her grandfather's for roughly thirty years. Desi honestly thought she could hear her own heart beating, pounding rapidly in fear and unease.
What right did she have to sit there? It shouldn't be her. Her grandfather should be sitting here, as he had for years.
Just thinking about that caused her to feel a fresh wave of loss. She had no idea where he was. Or even who he'd chosen to be his own secret-keeper. She'd offered. He'd refused her. He told her he was leaving her with more than enough burdens to bear to allow that.
"You can't be serious, Papa? You can't leave the school! The students need you, more now than ever before. This damned war is going to rip their lives apart. It's already settled on their doorsteps; now the man who they admire and depend upon is leaving? It's insanity!"
An old man's tired regret. "Desdemona, child, if I did not have to, it wouldn't be. However, it is for the students, for the school, that I leave. It is not a decision I made lightly or without consideration of their feelings. In the end, it is the only decision I could make."
A young woman's wrath. "You're not telling me everything, Papa. I know you better than this. You're keeping something from me. What is it?"
Sadness encased in blue eyes. "There's a world I keep from you, little one. Sometimes, all I ever want to do is keep you safe from it all. However, I've now been told I cannot keep you from it any longer." A wistful sigh. "You will be the new Headmaster when I leave."
Shock freezing her heart. "Me? You're joking! If you're leaving to keep the school safe, how will having me as Headmaster change things? Voldemort's after me as much as he is you..."
"That is where you're wrong, child." Bitterness in the air. "With me gone, Voldemort will leave you be. That is the agreement."
Anger. "What agreement? Don't tell me you've bartered your freedom with a wizard hell-bent on destroying everything we hold dear just to save my skin! I'll run to America again. Or somewhere else! I'll go into hiding again! I will not have you put in danger to save me when I'm capable of saving myself."
"Not everything is solely about you, little one. I save you at the same time as I save others, some more precious to you than you care to admit."
Silence.
A timid voice shattering the quiet. "Why me? Why am I the new Headmaster?"
A new voice. "Because I told him it would be you, Ms. Drecorum."
An hour later. An agreement. A spell. A seal on her mind.
Gods, she missed him right now.
No one in the room could guess at the nerves that were ripping her apart. On the outside, she was a case study in serenity, sweeping into the Headmaster's chair as if she were born to it, sitting straight and nodding to her right at the Gryffindor Head of House. To everyone else in the Great Hall, she seemed as collected and in control as any of them could remember her.
To everyone else, that is, except for Severus Snape. He knew better. There was one sure giveaway that Desi was anything less than calm.
Desi was never this quiet and serene.
He watched her from the corner of his eye, trying to not openly gawk at her as she sat with poise and elegance. It wouldn't do for the students to see him lose too much composure in front of them. He'd already changed more of his personality this year than he'd ever planned.
She was scared. She'd told him so as they'd walked into the Hall together moments ago. It was one thing for a hat and a bird to choose her as the new leader of the school. It was quite another to face the students as that leader. It was a far cry from the eleven year old girl who'd sauntered up to him, sat down, and began reviewing potions lessons with him under a pine tree one long-ago September. That girl hadn't been afraid of anything. But now she was nervous. Almost as nervous as she'd been a few hours ago. To see her trying not to fidget was almost endearing, in a really odd way.
At her nod, McGonagall tapped on her water glass to get the room's attention. Given the fact that every face in the room was riveted on their new Headmaster and the room was deadly quiet, it was unnecessary. However, tradition was tradition, and the gesture was completed anyway.
She was nervous. Not as anxious as she'd been earlier in the day, but still uneasy for some silly reason. Facing that sea of faces, knowing this was her introduction to Hogwarts, terrified her in some small way.
Why did she have to give some end-of-year speech?
Because the bloody Hat told you to, you silly girl!
Well, that was as good a reason as any.
The woman in crimson robes rose smoothly from her seat, casting wide blue eyes around the room at faces she'd grown to learn and recognize over the months. Her gaze swept over the sparse Slytherin table, minus students whose parents had removed them from school already in order to join the ranks of those wizards who Desi was now sworn to contest. The pang of regret residing in her heart made her keenly aware of how her grandfather must have felt for years. Catching a pair of silver eyes briefly, the regret slid aside to allow in a twinge of gratitude; there were depths to Draco Malfoy that had never before been realized. For that, she was thankful.
She stifled a smile when looking over at the Gryffindor table, at two of her favorite students sitting just a bit closer and with posturing just slightly more relaxed and natural than she'd ever seen them show towards each other. With a twinkle in her eye, she reminded herself to send a few galleons to Ginny Weasley as promised.
Across from them sat a pair of emerald eyes she'd know anywhere, after having looked into them for months across from her desk. She still hated what the Order had done to Harry Potter, what she'd helped discover, what fate had handed him for a future. All she could do now was pray that the young man left here with the strength he needed to face the upcoming days.
With a deep breath, she spoke. As if her mind was not her own, the right words poured from her lips. Words that spoke of the future, of the world that they'd been sheltered from during the school months, of the choices that every person in the room faced. Words that told the students more about her resolve and integrity than they'd ever expected. Words that allowed them all to grow and mature, even for a few minutes, and contemplate heavily on what awaited them all in King's Cross Station when they arrived there, on their long journeys home.
Most importantly, words that reassured every professor on the dais that the Hat had chosen correctly, words that reassured the younger students that this new woman who replaced their precious headmaster would teach, guide, and counsel them equally, and words that somehow soothed her own fears and regrets.
When the words finished coming from some hidden place in her mind, she gestured to the students to enjoy their feast, and settled back into her chair with grace and dignity.
Inwardly, she was in shock. It was done. It was real.
These were her students now. Her responsibility. Her legacy.
All around her, voices spoke over their final meal. Goodbyes exchanged, tears cried. The end of a chapter for so many people. The beginning of a prescribed chapter for some. For others, their second chance at choosing their own paths.
The feel of destiny and fate breathing down their necks, many of the seventh years were especially subdued and morose as the feast continued; the world outside held at bay for a few precious hours longer.
The silence was deafening.
With the students gone, the grounds took on an eerie quiet that disturbed most, but captivated others. The clouds drifted across the black sky, finally allowing the three-quarter moon to shine down upon the lake, castle stonework, and grassy landscape. Stars twinkled against a backdrop of darkness, and the soft June breeze barely disturbed the leaves in the tall trees that made up the Forbidden Forest.
All of this scenery, however, was lost on Severus, as he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms tighter around the woman who was dozing, curled against his chest as they sat beneath trees as familiar to him as anything on the school grounds. In a few hours, dawn would be breaking. They should have gone inside hours ago.
Instead, they silently agreed to remain where they were, both refusing to let the moment end.
While Desi slipped peacefully into a light sleep, Severus stayed wide awake, too contemplative to let himself drift away as well. So many changes in such little time. The end of every charade that he'd played for years. No more pretending to loathe the young man who held the fate of wizard-kind in his hands. No more masquerading as the moody, repressed, angry Head of Slytherin House. No more putting on airs to keep former friends at bay solely to stay alive and useful to the man who offered him his chance at redemption.
Beyond all, no more lying to himself about who he was and what he wanted in life.
All he wanted, he held in his arms.
She shifted slightly, unconsciously, sliding her head down from his shoulder to right over his heart, tucking into a ball without realizing it. He opened his eyes long enough to make sure she was comfortable and covered by the cloak he'd spread over her sleeping form, and then closed them again, burying his face in her hair, breathing in the smell of sandalwood.
He'd asked himself to make a choice that had felt completely irrational and somehow perfectly and completely natural. To trust another human being with something that mattered more than a piece of paper or a bottle of liquid. To give himself over to someone else, to give her the power to hurt him or save him, to give someone else the key to his very soul. He'd asked himself to love someone else, to put their happiness and their safety and their needs above his own. He'd asked himself to let someone else love him, to be someone else's equal, to share every piece of himself with another human being. These were things he'd never thought he'd do in his lifetime. Things he'd scoffed at others for doing. He didn't trust people. He didn't care for their safety or well-being. He sure as hell didn't allow his heart to ache if someone else so much as looked unhappy.
He'd asked himself to do all these things and more.
And it had come as naturally to him as breathing.
He smoothed back strands of auburn hair that the soft breeze had toyed with for a moment. He'd asked her to make a decision that would change their lives forever. He'd asked her to do the very things he'd asked of himself.
Her response had floored him.
Dawn's approach brought with it one gut-wrenching change. Tomorrow the woman in his arms would begin working on the administration of the school. She had no choice in the matter; Desi had meetings with the Ministry of Magic and the hiring of a new Potions professor to keep her busy, as well as pretending to have nothing to do with the war or either side of it. She had to begin the politically-charged dance that her grandfather had never been good at; it was all in the best interests of the students, after all, that this new Headmaster appear unbiased and unaffected by the war that had already begun ripping their kind in two.
He, on the other hand, would find himself in London, working again with the Order of the Phoenix while the summer holidays raced by, week after week. The war between the Dark and the rest of the wizarding world was coming to a close, true, but he was needed there. If nothing else reminded him of his all-too-consuming duty, the stylized lightening bolt and phoenix on his upper left arm served as an overly-potent reminder. Work waited for him, work only he could do, work blatantly necessary regardless of personal cost.
It was anyone's guess how much time the pair would be able to spend together after the morning sun rose, and he wasn't ready yet to let go of the one thing in his entire life that gave him a reason to fight, to win, to live.
Damn everything on Earth, he loved her.
Once, years ago, that realization almost drove him mad. Now, it made him feel complete. Whole. Balanced.
The end of all the charades. The beginning of another.
Mindlessly, he took her hand in his as he held her, his back supported by the tree behind him, playing with her fingers while still contemplating the future. His thumb grazed against a thin silver band, the metal warmed by her skin.
Its counterpart dangled from a chain around his neck, tucked beneath black robes.
The one secret I have left in this world that means anything to me.
He'd hated Desdemona Dumbledore at first. Loathed her with a passion. She'd been annoying and obnoxious. He didn't need someone with a smile on their face and a cuteness that only the young are allowed to possess following his every move. He never asked for a tag-along. He certainly didn't ask her to befriend him. Or fall in love with him. In fact, he had never asked her for anything except for her to go away.
Except for one night, when he asked her for understanding and forgiveness.
She'd finally gone away.
And with her, she took what remained of his heart. For it wasn't until that night that he realized he loved her in return.
That night had threatened to destroy him. He'd thought it had at one point, right before an old man in a dark room offered him his only chance for redemption.
Years later, the little girl re-entered his life, as changed by the passing decades as he had been. And in the most shocking turn of his life, she gave him back his heart.
He'd been offered few second chances in his life. The one that Desi had offered him had been the one he least deserved.
And the one for which he'd be forever grateful.