A/N there is no dialogue in this chapter, but the next one will be worth it, i promise
Chapter Fifteen: Changes
As he stood there holding Ginevra, Snape was feeling guilty. She had given up everything. In a matter of days she would walk away from everyone she had ever cared about, everyone who had ever cared about her. She had been one of the most fortunate children he had ever met. She had always been surrounded by people that cared about her. Yes, they had trouble showing it, but they cared, and she knew they cared, and she was about to loose all of that.
He, on the other hand, had never had anyone. Neither had Draco. She was giving up everything and he was glad. He was thankful for her sacrifice. Not only did it mean that the Order had reliable sleepers within the death eaters, it meant that he and Draco had a family. That was how he had come to view the girl, as family. She was all he had. He had come to love her as he would have loved a daughter and he knew, whether they did or not, that Draco would come to love her as well, that they had started down a path that could only end in the purest, deepest, and truest of loves, and for that he was grateful. And for that, he felt guilty.
When Ginevra had stopped crying she went for a walk on the grounds. Snape was right, she couldn't be seen visiting Dray. It was strange how things had changed. She still loved her family and still believed they had the best of motives. She did think they could be hypocritical and she did hate they way they treated her, but that didn't mean she loved them any less. She knew that no matter what, they loved her. At least, she hoped no matter what. She knew they would completely believe that she had turned, but still hoped that in the end they would be able to understand the truth and forgive her for the lies and pain, and for that they needed love through the lies and pain and betrayal. As for Snape and Dray, they really had become the most important people in the world to her. The would know the truth. No matter what happened at any point, they would always know. And she had gotten to know them. Snape was truly remarkable. His wit, his authority, his strength, his intelligence, he was an excellent mentor. Okay, so he wasn't a fluffy bunny, but if you managed to make it past the hate he was a truly devoted individual. She had come to trust his motives as thoroughly as Dumbledore did, if not more so. He had become a second father to her. Perhaps, she thought wryly, an only father after next week.
And Dray, well, Dray was Dray, wasn't he? Once she had broken through the layers of ice a mile thick she had found they had a lot in common. They had the same dry, biting, and often dark sense of humor. They both had a side no one else knew of; his was good, hers was dark. They had both cut. She had seen his scars as they worked together. Somehow, since they had been working together, all thoughts of cutting or suicide had completely vanished. She had even taken to removing her gloves when they were alone. (It still wouldn't do to have the trio find out about that.) And he cared about her. She knew he did. They were friends now, friends with a deeper bond than most lovers had. They were not lovers, and she did not want to be. She was not trying to convince herself of that, it simply was. To think of their relationship in that light was odd, it was foreign, it was forced. They were friends and it never crossed her mind that they could be more, not even when she remembered their night in the North Tower entrance.
These two men had become her world. They had become that which stabalized her. She relied upon them.
She missed Dare. She had been forced to cut off correspondence with him. He would have been able to read between the lines of her letters and find the truth too easily. Not that he wouldn't figure it out without the letters, just that it would take longer and was safer for him this way. She sighed. She hoped he would figure it out without the letters. Someday she would be able to sit down and talk the whole thing out with him. Him she could see herself falling in love with when this was all over.
Draco lay in the hospital wing. It was strange, he found himself desperate to live for Nevra's sake. The thoughts running through his head earlier had been I don't want to die! I can't die! I can't leave her alone! Now, looking back on them, he was slightly surprised. She had come to mean so much to him.
She was right. No one had ever given him a chance before. No one had ever given him a choice before. She was the only one who cared, and that had made a difference.
He still couldn't care less about Weasley or Granger and still suspected he might sing at Potter's funeral, but he never thought of Granger as the mudblood anymore. A lot of Ginevra's beliefs had influenced his own views. He now honestly believed that the Dark Lord needed to be destroyed because he was evil. For that matter, he had begun to believe in good and evil.
His convictions were no where near as strong as Nevra's. For one, he didn't believe in viewing everyone a friend until they chose to be otherwise. He believed in choosing your friends carefully. He would always fit better the upper class, high culture, whatever you wish to call it. He suspected she would fit perfectly anywhere. He would always be what one would call stand offish, aloof, even arrogant if you didn't take time to get to know him. In truth, however, his arrogance was waning every day.
What had changed was almost everything else. He had learned through Nevra the importance of judging people individually rather than by name or station. After all, she was a poor Weasley and a Gryffindor. He learned the value and sanctity of life. He had learned the importance of caring about others. He was not a caring person, nor would he ever be, at least not in the way most counted caring. He would be, however, and was one to care deeply about those that cared about him and those he did not know at all, humanity at large. People would always judge him by his demeanor and he honestly knew that his reaction would always be to justify their judgment. If they failed to know him before judging, who was he to correct them?
All in all, Draco was a very different person than he had been in September, though only the closest observer would have noticed. Perhaps after the war, when it was safe, he would allow his new understandings to show, but right now it was just as important for him not to change as it was for Nevra to change.