Ginevra was sitting in a wing chair, hugging her legs, and resting her forehead on her knees. She had no idea how long she had been sitting there when she heard someone enter the room. She could tell who it was by the measure of his step.

He sat down on a sofa near her chair and waited for a moment before speaking. "I wish you would just tell Theodore what is on you mind. He simply won't give us any peace. It is impossible to enjoy a decent cup of tea when there is an extremely jittery young man staring at you."

Ginevra drew her head back, rested it on the wing, and sighed. "You knew him. What do you think is going through his head?"

Snape thought for a moment. "I knew, and know, quite a few males. If you want an informed answer I will need more information."

She closed her eyes and related the events of every meeting she had Draco. "And then he roared."

"He roared?"

She pulled her head up and looked at her former professor. "Yes, he roared. It was so…primal, raw, strong. He roared."

Again, he thought for a moment. "You've gotten under his skin and he doesn't like it. He cannot admit that everything he has been taught and has held to be true his entire life is false. He cannot accept the fact that he needed help. He cannot allow himself to feel anything your presence in his life demands he feel: pain, guilt, fear, hope, gratitude, care. And, yet, you are undeniable."

She listened intently but got a confused look on her face at his last statement. "What do you mean, I am undeniable?"

He leaned forward, looked at her critically, and spoke. "There is something about you, deep within you, surrounding you, that cannot be ignored. Your very nature requires those who speak with you to listen. One cannot meet your gaze without exercising self-evaluation. Your purity, your passion, your very essence resonates strength and conviction, leaving those without feeling very empty when they stand before you.

"Generally speaking, it is subtle and tolerance can be acquired; one can learn to ignore that feeling. However, when you purposefully call forth that quality, whatever it is, ignorance is not an option.

"To one such as Draco, who has always believed himself to be strong, always believed his convictions to be firm, and always believed that he has had the answers, facing the mirror of your eyes is almost unbearable. You force him to acknowledge all the insecurities he has denied, all the fears he has buried, and all of the doubts he has hidden deep within himself.

"It is not something you were born, yet it is who you are. It is not something that can be taught, but it is something that can be learned. Your conviction reaches a level of your soul most cannot fathom. To those close to you it manifest itself as charisma and inspires loyalty. Those in need see it as compassion. Those who oppose you find it terrifying. Those floundering find it sobering. Those who are in turmoil find it intoxicating. Those in pain find it soothing. Those in denial find it insufferable.

"It may be taking him some time, but he will come around, and when he does be prepared, for we will have found your match." Snape held her gaze. He had no idea where half of what he had said had come from, he simply knew it was true. Eventually he could not take it any longer and broke eye contact.

He found himself surrounded by children that were not children. Ginevra's pure conviction and strength was unsettling. Granger's courage and cleverness was uncanny. Ronald's cunning and loyalty was unmatched. Potter's depth of heart and naiveté, the way he saw the world in black and white, good and evil, love and hate, was insufferable, infuriatingly respectable, and maddeningly necessary. All of the others, Fred, George, Theodore, Pansy, Siren, Longbottom, they were all children and yet they fought like men, even the girls; they knew what they believed and they stood by it; and he was certain if Ginevra decided she didn't like the way Lupin was running things they would follow her.

"Come eat something, even if you aren't hungry, for Theodore's sake." He stood and left the room.

She leant her head against the wing again and thought about what she had just been told. After a few moments she made her way down to the kitchen, still unable to shake the memory of that sound from her head. He had roared…

Meanwhile…

Draco sat under a tree on a cliff over looking the ocean. Why had he saved her life? All of his problems would have been over if he had only let that curse hit her. What was it about her that did this to him? Why was he haunted by her eyes? Why was he drawn to her?

He asked himself these questions, along with many others, over and over. It seemed to be all he was doing. He relived every moment he had spent with her searching for answers. He remembered every word she had said and analyzed them repeatedly.

He could almost ignore it all; he could almost forget about her and move on, but every time he got close he would remember the way she had looked at him, standing with her throat at his wand tip, two days after he had killed her father. How could she forgive him for that? He could not understand, but he did not doubt that she would, and had.

If she found so much confidence and completion in her convictions, if she was that strong and fearless because of how she believed what she believed, could she really be wrong? There was no doubt in her mind, none, not a single doubt lie buried deep within her, denied and forgotten. And when he looked at himself…

He got up, dove off the cliff, and swam two miles in the cold water and he still could not get away from her eyes.