It was after midnight, and the night patroller had just rounded the corner in the other direction. Amelia slipped into the tent and closed the canvas behind her. She paused with her back still turned to the room, her breath coming in hollow rattles, her knees threatening to buckle as a familiar scent filled her.

She turned and saw him, sitting in a wooden chair, his hands tied to the arms with thick rope and his eyes gazing directly at her.

"Amel –

"Don't," she whispered harshly, and he fell quiet.

Amelia let her eyes drag slowly across the face in front of her; a familiar stranger. His hair - still magnificently blonde - hung messily around his eyebrows and framed a hardened face. His jaw, sharp and clenched, was roughly peppered with stubble. His face looked unwashed. So much of him looked the same, but it all seemed darker, as if he'd lived without light for years. His features looked worn and unsmiling, but his grey eyes glinted as they always had as he looked up at her.

It was difficult to describe how she felt looking at the person she had once loved more than anything else. She imagined this is what it must have felt like to be stabbed in the gut.

"Amelia, I need to –

"Stop," she managed to breathe. "Whatever story you've made up to weasel your way in here – and I'm sure it's a great one – I don't want it." She felt tears begin to edge behind her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, balling her fists by her side to will herself steady. "I just came here to tell you to stop asking for me," she finished firmly.

She watched curiously as his expression softened and resembled something close to disappointment.

"You needn't worry anyway," she said, her eyebrow twitching, "we don't kill our prisoners. So, you can stop trying to use me as collateral."

She turned to leave, Draco's eyes on her back as she did.

"I came back for you – as soon as I could. If you just let me –

Amelia whipped around, her composure disappearing as she scoffed at these words. "Soon?! It's been years, Draco!"
Her voice bounced around the tent as Draco stayed silent.

"I thought you were dead," she continued. Her voice quivered as she spoke. "When I couldn't find you that day – I thought you were dead. I thought, the only way you would've abandoned me like that, was if they had killed you."
Still, he did not speak.

"I grieved you. For months. Searched desperately around the whole damn country for you. And then I saw your engagement announcement in the Daily Prophet. Your picture. With Pansy. Very much alive." Her voice was shaking and cracking as she tried to push down the lump in her throat and the threat of tears. "And do you know what my first thought was when I saw that?"
She choked back a sob, tears finally spilling down her flushed cheeks. "I thought, thank Merlin he's alive. I was relieved. Even though you had betrayed me, for all that time… I still…" She trailed off, pressing a hand to her lips and giving in to the emotion, her sobs coming out heavily now.

"Please, Amelia…" his voice was raspy, as if it hadn't been used for years, and he spoke so gently that Amelia almost believed him. She watched as he struggled against the ropes binding him to the chair. "I can explain it all, I promise."
Amelia looked at him through tear-blurred eyes. "You don't need to. I understand it completely," she said stiffly, as another flash of cruel disappointment masked Draco's features. "Don't you dare say my name in here again," she finished coldly, quickly turning and ripping aside the canvas flap, stumbling out of the tent and back into the fresh air.

Her breath came in small and sharp intakes as she raced back to her tent and the security of her own little home.

As she lay in bed, wide awake and completely muddled, Seamus's words swam around the confusing thoughts. "It was as if he wanted us to find him."


Unsurprisingly, it was a sleepless night for Draco tied to a chair in a simple canvas tent in what looked like the Scottish highlands. The ropes wrapped around his wrists had caused his hands to go numb, and those tied securely around his chest stopped him from readjusting his position at all. For a long time, he stared at where Amelia had stood. He could swear that her scent had lingered tauntingly in the air, but wasn't sure whether it was ever there or was just something conjured up by dangerous memories.

It was two months since he had fled from the Malfoy Manor and the Death Eaters. Armed with only his wand and a fistful of parchment with scribbling research he had secretly done on the resistance, he had trawled up and down the country, focusing in on spots he believed the resistance could be. He knew that as soon as he saw one of them, they would jump at the opportunity to capture him. And they had. Finnigan and Longbottom had acted as if they'd won the quidditch world cup as they had seized Draco in a small field just outside of a farming town in the midlands.


"Look – if you just listen – I'm not here to fight –

A curse flew his way, but Draco managed to sidestep it. He raised his hands above his head.

"Wait!" He bellowed. Finnigan and Longbottom looked at each other and paused, their wands hovering hesitantly in front of them.

"You're both part of the resistance aren't you? I've been searching for you, for a while. Amelia Collins – I've been trying to find her. I know what you think I am, and you can take me as a prisoner – I don't care – but I just need to get to Amelia Collins."
He could tell by the looks on their faces that they didn't buy his innocence for a moment. And he hadn't expected them to – why would they?

Next thing he knew though, he was limply allowing Finnigan to cast a binding spell to hold his hands behind his back and was apparated alongside the two of them to the resistance.

He'd had only fleeting glances of what the resistance looked like; rows of tents of different colours and sizes, surrounded by thickets of green, luscious forest and even further in the distance, grassy snow-capped mountains. He had been briefly reminded of scenes from the quidditch world cup when he was fourteen, before he was roughly taken into a tent and shoved into a chair.

He wasn't left with just Finnigan and Longbottom for long, as Harry Potter and another man came barging into the tent in a dramatic fashion, both their wands raised at Draco, who sat helpless in the middle of the room, his hands securely fastened to the wooden arms of the chair.

"Malfoy," Potter growled as he approached him. Draco did little to hide his amusement at Potter and this other man's flustered appearance.

"Potter. Hello," Draco greeted coolly. "I don't believe we've had the honour," he then directed to the other man, who looked irritatingly familiar.

"Henry Collins," the other man mumbled with glaring eyes.

A surge of energy pulsed through Draco at the mention of this name and he tried to stand but was kept back by the ropes holding him. He grimaced.

"Is Amelia here?"

Both Harry and Henry frowned.

"Why do you care?" Henry growled. Draco's heart sunk as what he had feared was seemingly confirmed: he and Amelia's relationship was not known to the resistance.

"Please, I can explain everything. I promise. I just need to see her…" He pleaded but could tell it was falling on deaf ears.

He had known it would take some convincing – he was a fairly notorious Death Eater, after all, even without the personal torment he had caused a lot of the resistance members at school. He hadn't anticipated feeling so panicked being this close to Amelia though. Henry and Harry looked at each other for a long moment, tossing Draco's words silently between them.
"I
let Longbottom and Finnigan seize me! Ask them! No fight, no nothing!" He bellowed. "I swear – I've been looking for the resistance for months… for Amelia. If you tell her… she understands."

As he spoke he could see how unconvinced the two men were, and so was not surprised when Henry lunged forward and grabbed fistfuls of Draco's shirt, leaving only inches between their faces.

"Stop saying her name," Amelia's brother growled through gritted teeth. Draco saw a flame grow behind his eyes and he felt oddly relieved that she'd had her brother here all this time.

Henry straightened up and resumed training his wand on the still-restrained Slytherin. "Tell us why you're really here. We already know that you surrendered yourself. Are you being tracked by Death Eaters?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Well I hope not, seeing as I just managed to get rid of them," he offered dryly.

"This is useless – I know Malfoy, he's not just going to tell us what we need. Not straight away," Harry said to Henry, as if Draco weren't there.

"I will – I'll tell you everything, I've already said that," Draco said, becoming increasingly impatient.

"We only listen to the truth," Henry said as he beckoned for the others to leave. Harry gave one last inquisitive glare towards Draco, before joining Longbottom and Finnigan. Henry's eyes hovered on the exposed Dark Mark on Draco's forearm, before he too, left.


And he had been left in this tent ever since. He watched as light crept up the canvas walls and the bare room warmed with the sunrise.

A new day. Another chance.

He scorned himself for losing his patience, especially with Amelia's brother. He needed to show them that he wasn't who they thought he was; Dark Mark or not, he'd never been a Death Eater. Not really; not truly. He grimaced at the thought of having to plead with Potter, imagining how Potter would tell Granger and Weasley, and how they'd laugh at Draco's desperation. Whatever pride he had left was shattered by the position he'd put himself in; at the mercy of everyone he had tormented for so many years.

Getting caught was all part of his plan though. If he had any hope of safety, he had to have the resistance on his side. Throughout the years that the Death Eaters had been in power, anyone who was on the run by themselves were usually captured and tortured or killed, depending on how useful they were to Voldemort. The resistance was his only hope – he knew that their hideout was extremely well protected and completely unable to track, and that the resistance themselves had strength and power against the Death Eaters.

He had his angle prepared: He had valuable information on a lot of the Death Eaters' movements and plans. He could be a lot of help to the resistance. He just had to convince them of this…