Draco sat in his tent, hunched over a particularly difficult brain-teaser puzzle in the Quibbler he'd been given, when the tent flap abruptly opened. He shot his head up and he was surprised to see Harry Potter and Henry Collins striding over to him.

"Excuse the intrusion," Henry said, with what Draco swore was an amused look from him to the Quibbler.

Draco hastily threw the magazine on the bed beside him.

"Good to see you've been enjoying our offerings; hopefully it helps pass the time a little easier," Henry continued. Draco wasn't sure how to reply to this sudden admission of kindness, so gave a curt nod.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" He eventually asked.

Henry gestured for Draco to sit on the bed as he pulled up the singular chair in the tent; Harry stood tall beside Henry.

"We need you to take us through everything."

Draco raised his eyebrows; "Everything? As in…?"

Henry clarified: "Everything that has happened from the time you were fifteen, to now. We need to understand."

Draco leaned back on his hands and exhaled slowly.

It took well over an hour, but Harry and Henry were an attentive audience. Henry scrawled notes on a piece of parchment as Draco spoke. He didn't hold back; he divulged everything from the moment he learnt he was to become a Death Eater, his mother's Unbreakable Vow, his task of killing Dumbledore, to the way he felt in seventh year, his encounters with Snape and their discussions (and how much they made sense after learning of his being a double agent), being on the run in England after the Battle of Hogwarts, to being captured and forced back into the regime of Voldemort, to how he came to be in front of them at that very moment.

"And that's when Longbottom and Finnigan brought me back here, and you know the rest," Draco concluded, feeling as though he needed a stiff drink after revealing so much.

Harry and Henry exchanged a long glance which suggested to Draco that they hadn't expected him to be so candid.

After a long pause, where Harry studied Draco and Henry pored over his scribbles on parchment, Henry piped up, "Tell me this, Malfoy – why were the Death Eaters so desperate to have you back in their ranks after you'd supposedly betrayed them by fleeing Hogwarts when we were seventeen? All due respect, but would it not be more their style to just kill you there and then when they found you?"
Draco let out a breathy laugh. "That's what confused me as well. Bloodline," he said simply with a shrug, "Voldemort's desperate to keep as many pureblood lines active and the Malfoy one can be traced back for centuries (his chest automatically puffed out slightly at this accidentally boastful admission). I'm the end of the line," he said, and this seemed to satisfy Henry's query.

"And that's why they had you marry Pansy Parkinson?" Harry asked – the first time he'd spoken since Draco's lengthy monologue.

Draco nodded. "Preserve the Malfoy line by injecting another pureblood family's line – I'm sure you can see why it's attractive. My mother told me that they planned to kill me as soon as Pansy bore a child. A feat which was, unfortunately for them, impossible."

Henry raised his eyebrows at this and Draco wondered if he was getting through to them.

Draco pulled a small tin from his pocket and took out a cigarette and silver lighter. He offered the tin to Henry and Harry and to his mild surprise, Henry took a cigarette with a small nod of thanks.

"You don't have many fans here, mate," Henry said as he lit his cigarette and tossed the lighter back to Draco.

"I figured as much," Draco mumbled, relaxing slightly as he took a drag.

"I mean, I don't know you from Merlin, but some of the others here who remember you from school… they seem to remember a slightly different version of you than the one you are now," Henry said honestly, with a glance to Harry whose face told Draco that he was one of those people.

Draco sighed. "I know, I know. I've kind of messed up my own agenda here. We all have a past though, right? I want the same things as you. I have done for a long time," he said, looking now to Harry, understanding that it was Potter who needed to be convinced.

Harry took a roll pf parchment out of his pocket and handed it over to Draco a little rougher than was probably needed. "Write down everything you can offer us. We'll come back tomorrow."

Draco nodded, his insides flooding with silent gratitude. As Henry and Harry got up to leave, Draco wanted desperately to ask Amelia's brother how she was, to implore him to reach out to her, but he bit his tongue. He needed these next couple of days to work in his favour, and revealing that he was secretly in love with Henry's younger sister was not part of his carefully laid plan at the moment.


A day after visiting Draco Malfoy, Harry and Henry stood in a large, high-ceilinged tent at the head of a long oak table. At the table sat about a dozen resistance members including surviving members of the Order and new members of the resistance. There was no official government in the resistance, but it was these people who had either been chosen or volunteered to discuss important matters and voice any concerns of the resistance. Harry and Henry had both fallen into leadership roles.

Since their meeting with Malfoy, Harry had thought of nothing else. He replayed every word that Malfoy had said, looking for bits and pieces that didn't add up, or moments he spoke when it felt false or manipulated, but the more he pored over his tales, the more he was reluctantly convinced by them. Although he had loathed Malfoy for as long as he could remember, he couldn't deny that he'd always sensed that there was more to him than just being a thuggish wannabe Death Eater. And if his story was real, it sounded as if he'd had a rough time of it the last few years. Admittedly, there was a twisted sort of vindication to have Malfoy so vulnerable and allegedly desperate for Harry's approval and help, but Harry's thoughts always led him back to what he saw in the pensieve after Snape had died all those years ago. Dumbledore had listened to Snape, understood his position and trusted him; if it wasn't for that decision then perhaps they would've lost to the Death Eaters long ago. Did Harry now need to trust in Draco Malfoy in order to move forward?

"So, as you all know, we intercepted Draco Malfoy – a fairly well-known Death Eater – about a week ago, and we've had him on watch since then," Harry said, addressing all of those in front of him. "Henry and I have had two conversations with him since then and today he's handed over a lot of information which could help us in our fight against the Death Eaters." He watched as unconvinced glances were exchanged between his peers.

"Basically, we're now in a position where we open the debate a bit wider than between Harry and myself; we want to know your thoughts and how we should proceed in the situation," Henry chimed in.

There were slight murmurs around the table, but all eyes stayed expectantly on the two speakers.

Harry sighed, "Malfoy maintains that he is, for lack of a better word, innocent. That he was looking for the resistance to seek asylum with us." He knew that this would spark something around the table, and he was right. Every single person erupted into indignant ranting.

"Malfoy – innocent? Pretty sure there is incontestable proof of him being a Death Eater, mate," Seamus Finnigan piped up over the rumbles of the table.

"You only needed to see him in the corridors of Hogwarts ten years ago to understand all there is to know on Malfoy," George Weasley agreed.

Henry held his hands up and spoke over the rising voices. "To give a bit of context – we obviously asked a lot of questions and, from what we can see… it checks out. Seamus – can you describe what happened when you came across him?" Henry asked.

Seamus looked as if he was considering how to word his recount of events. "Yes – okay – he didn't resist… he was pretty compliant… but that's just part of his game, surely?"

More murmurs of agreement to this.

"Seamus has a point, lads; the most likely scenario is that he's here to do just this – convince us all of his being a victim so that he and the Death Eaters can infiltrate us. Seems obvious, right? I mean, from what I understand of the guy, he's like the poster boy for Death Eaters," Bill Weasley said in his usual calm and rational tone.

"That is a strong possibility we're looking at, of course. But equally, I don't think we should discount the possibility that he hasn't actually been aligned with the Death Eaters all this time. Stranger things have happened…" Harry said, trying to appeal to those around him while absorbing their thoughts and hesitancy.

"Who iz this person? Because you did not like 'im in school, you condemn 'im as a man?" Fleur Weasley said, speaking mostly to her husband.

"He's happy to speak to you all," Henry suggested out of nowhere. Harry looked at him; this was not something they'd discussed. "You guys should have the opportunity to speak to him like we did and get more of a full picture, right?" Henry continued, appealing to Harry here, who worried about the repercussions of inviting a Death Eater into the room.

"Look – no one despises Malfoy more than me, and trust me – I'm having a hard time separating what he was like at Hogwarts from who he says he is now… but on the chance that he is telling the truth… that is just too big to throw away. That could give us the upper hand we desperately need," Harry said, changing his tone and making sure to sweep his eyes across the face of each of his friends in front of him.

"Let's hear what he's got to say then," Ron said, sitting back in his chair, obviously keen to be in a situation where he had power to assert over someone like Malfoy.


Draco lay atop his bed, his eyes closed and hands resting behind his head when his tent opened. He jumped, snatched from his state of semi-consciousness.

"Bloody hell, do you lot ever knock?"

It was Henry Collins, looking slightly out of breath as he stood in Draco's doorway.

"We need you, now," Henry panted.

Draco frowned. "I've given you everything I know, I told you that I wasn't really –

Henry held a hand up and shook his head. "Not that. We called a meeting to discuss… your situation… they want to hear it from you."
"Hear what from me, exactly?" Draco said, sitting up slowly at this.

"Well, whatever they want to ask I guess. They're not very convinced mate, and it's not doing me and Harry much good trying to diplomatically put forward your case. It needs to be from you," Henry said. More and more, Draco felt as if he had turned Henry around to being on his side, but he wasn't sure if it was perhaps just in his nature to be collected and seemingly accepting.

Within minutes, Draco was in front a handful of unfriendly faces. As he slowly took a seat, he scanned the room; there were a few familiar faces. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger – obviously, he thought – the Weasley twin whose name Draco couldn't remember, and who he assumed was an older Weasley judging by the mop of shaggy red hair. Next to the older Weasley was a beautiful blonde lady who Draco recognised as Beauxbaton's Triwizard champion from years ago at Hogwarts (he was mildly surprised to see her hand resting firmly on the older Weasley's shoulder). Seamus Finnigan sat next to her, his face contorted into disgust as he looked back at Draco. Michael Corner – Draco knew him as a Ravenclaw from his year at Hogwarts who Amelia was friendly with and sometimes spoke of – sat with his arms crossed glaring at Draco. Perhaps the only friendly face was Ginny Weasley's, who flashed a small but earnest smile at Draco. Next to Ginny Weasley was a face etched firmly into Draco's mind: Amelia Collins. He couldn't work out her expression as she sat, looking not at him, but fiddling with a loose bit of thread on her scarf with her brows slightly knitted together as she gazed at her knees. He hadn't considered that she would be here and would be part of the decision as to what happened to him. He remembered how she was when she came into his tent - he had thought of almost nothing else since. So angry, so hurt. Perhaps she would listen now and see.

"Okay, so, I think it would be good to tell everyone what you told us," Henry eventually said, cutting through the silence with a tentative voice.

"What – everything?" Draco asked, doubtful that he had the mental capacity to go through his whole bloody life for the second time.

Henry gave a small shrug and Draco sighed, clasping his hands in front of him and facing his jury.

"Right – uhh…" he struggled to find the words to start. He looked at the expectant faces in front of him; every one of them with a personal reason to loathe him, he was sure. "I know that you lot all think I'm some awful, power hungry Death Eater, which is fair I suppose. I probably deserve all of that." He hated how meek his voice sounded as he struggled with where to look with all these accusatory glares on him. "But the truth is… I'm not."

"Oh, well that clears that up then," Seamus Finnigan said sarcastically with a small snort, to a couple of amused chortles around the table. Draco failed to recall a time where he felt smaller than this.

"If you let me finish," Draco continued, glaring at Seamus with gritted teeth. He caught Amelia's eye as he felt his fists start to ball on the table and took a breath to calm himself. He couldn't let them anger him.

Draco went on to briefly describe his plight during the Battle of Hogwarts, subsequent months on the run and eventual capture by the Death Eaters. Once he finished, the room was silent. He chanced a look at Amelia but she was looking off to the left, biting her bottom lip.

"As soon as I managed to get out, I started trying to find you lot," Draco concluded.

Bill Weasley was the first to speak. "And why was that?"

"I didn't fancy traipsing around the British countryside by myself, hunted by a troupe of Death Eaters?" Draco replied sarcastically, but again steadied himself. "I wanted to help," he corrected himself in a calmer tone. "I want to do something that I wish I had the guts to do when I was sixteen." He dropped his head and stared determinedly at his lap, unable to look anyone in the eye, though he could feel several pairs of eyes burning into the top of his head.

"But you are a Death Eater?" A thick French accent said. Draco looked up and saw the Beauxbatons lady looking quizzically back at him. "You 'ave ze mark?"

Draco nodded slowly. "I've had it since I was sixteen. But it means nothing."

At this, he rolled up his sleeve and showed the table something that he had kept to himself thus far. There were a couple of stifled gasps as he revealed his Dark Mark with a thick, raised scar slashed right through it, distorting the shape of the skull.

"A reminder from the Dark Lord, after I had run," Draco said darkly, hastily pulling his sleeve back down. He looked directly at Amelia now, who looked glassy eyed as she frowned back at him.

"The Draco Malfoy that I remember had some pretty strong opinions about muggle-borns and our place in the wizarding world. Are we meant to believe that you've just suddenly given all that up now that you need our help?" Hermione Granger piped up, speaking for the first time. She was as fiery as Draco remembered her and he bit back the instinct to argue.

"I know, and I regret that every day of my life. If I could go back and do things differently, I would. I stopped believing that when I was sixteen – I don't know how much I actually ever did believe it all, but I was a coward." He spoke with an uncomfortable sincerity and wasn't able to meet the eye of anyone in the room.

The meeting ended soon after and Henry escorted Draco back to his tent in silence. Draco left the table not knowing what impression he had left on all of these old rivals of his and wanted to ask Henry his opinion, but had to remember that he was on their side, not his.

He thought of how different it would be if he had Amelia there vouching for him and verifying everything he said. He longed for another moment with her and another chance to explain himself, but being locked in this damned tent prevented that, and judging by her reaction to him tonight, he felt that she wasn't ready to hear from him yet.


Amelia sat around the long wooden table with her peers as they discussed their Slytherin visitor who had just left. Amelia stared at the spot Draco had sat. She hadn't even wanted to attend the meeting, but Henry had insisted that they needed the level-headed opinion of everyone possible. If only they knew just how muddied and marred her opinion was of Draco Malfoy…

She tried to ignore the twinge of pain that stabbed her as he had revealed his scarred arm, and how she had silently hung onto every word he had spoken, desperately wishing she could believe all of it. She offered very little as everyone debated around the table, but her head snapped up as she heard Harry say in an exasperated voice, "so we're agreed – we'll slowly ease and see where we get. Meanwhile, security of the resistance needs to be more vigilant than ever – just in case."

"You didn't look too convinced in there before," Henry said, coming to sit beside Amelia on her sofa. He had invited himself over for tea after the meeting and Amelia knew that he desperately wanted to debrief every moment of it with her.

Amelia shrugged as she cradled her teacup against her chest. "I just don't buy it, I've said that from the start."
"What makes you so certain?"

Amelia sighed. "He's sly and manipulative; he always has been. I just think this is another ploy. He's either here on behalf of the Death Eaters to gather information on us, or he's somehow run out of options and needs us."

"You don't think there's even a chance he's telling the truth? Repented in his ways?"

Amelia looked at her brother and could see how much he wanted Draco to be innocent. The idea of having a defected Death Eater fighting on the side of the resistance was big – symbolically and practically, and Amelia knew that they all needed a bit of a lift.

"Do people really change that much?" Amelia asked.

"Stranger things have happened," Henry said with a small chuckle.