Draco strolled onto Platform 9 and three-quarters while adjusting the robes he'd just put on over his charcoal suit with a quiet purple tie and silver cufflinks. Before crossing he'd attracted minimal attention. On a normal day he'd stand out, but the steady trickle of wizards and witches made Draco a safe eccentric. Just a rich brat, not some delusional redheaded homeless clan who wore blankets and pushed a shopping cart loaded with birds. Commuters glanced past Draco and stared at the freaks. They might remember him and look back, but they never could spot him. An accountant offered investment services, Draco nodded dismissively and walked past him. One middle-aged woman stage-whispered "Why can't Andrew dress that well?" Draco silently agreed with her after glancing at Andrew. Muggle style existed, he was proof. Draco had no idea why most choose to ignore it.

Draco got some glances. Mother attracted no attention, a shocking accomplishment given her beauty. Draco had sold the elegant black dress, Narcissa's concession to Muggle fashion, by pointing out that wearing robes stood out and invited a conversation. Mother's dread of interaction defeated her rejection of her Muggle past. Draco feared she'd change back to robes once he departed, Muggle curiosity be damned. Then he'd see exactly how much leverage he had with Li.

As Draco crossed the threshold to Platform Nine and Three Quarters memories of last year washed over him. It felt like ages ago. Last year he'd gawked nervously at the sights and experience, until Father coughed slightly, reminding Draco his place. Now he glanced around the station. Pansy Parkinson sat in one car of the train, staring down at the platform through a window. Gregory stood next to the news-stand, beside Vincent, carefully counting out Knuts to the vendor, candy in hand. Gregory waved to Draco and said something to Vincent. Draco shook his head and motioned towards the train.

He'd meet them later. He had to get out of the suit and adjust his robes.

An oomph behind him and Draco's trunk bumped into his leg before backing away to a fight for position against the interloper. He saw Neville rubbing his shin and Draco realized he'd stopped right at the entrance. Thankfully nobody had bolted through full tilt, as nervous first years sometimes did.

"My fault, Neville." Draco moved away, trunk padding quietly after him. Draco nodded to Augusta Longbottom as she appeared at the entrance. He realized - amused - that her purple flowing dress and wide brimmed hat sporting yellow roses looked equally outlandish on either side of the crossing, too improbable to be accidental.

Prefects from three Houses helped stow first years' trunks, older girls screamed greetings and ran into hugs. Shyer students boarded the Hogwarts Express quickly, loud students mingled on the platform gossiping. A large clock showed 10:45. A new girl, hair almost as blonde as Draco's but shoulder-length, examined the train's steam through outlandishly large orange glasses. With rainbow lenses. Judging from her expression she'd invented some secret of the universe, hidden in the cloud. Cho Chang's hands demonstrated maneuvers she'd seen at Puddlemere United's latest match to the rest of the Ravenclaw team. Lavender Brown and Hannah Abbott stood comparing modified uniforms and giggling. Draco took this all in a quick glance.

Dozens of students, but not Harry. No Hermione, either.

"I'll go. I don't want to embarrass you, Draco." Draco turned around and hugged Narcissa tightly.

"I'll have time to be embarrassed later, Mother," he said, eyes closed, and held the hug. Draco didn't want to see people watching. He might blush. He wasn't embarrassed, not yet, but if he thought about it that could change. He released Mother and stepped back. "I'll see you at Christmas," he said in a normal tone. Tears rolled down her cheeks and Draco wondered if he saw Mother, or if his own mask had been as effective.

Ignoring several slack-jawed stares, Draco boarded the Hogwarts Express behind sixth year Gryffindors, following smoothly in their wake as they scattered younger students. He stopped in the lavatory to fix his attire, and then went to the car he'd seen Vincent board.

"Vincent. Gregory" he said, standing at the entrance. "Hi. Can I come in? I'll leave. If you want."

Vincent let out his breath. "Come in. Greg and I talked about it. I mean, we're all in the same boat. Dad said you'd have secrets, even from us. He told me once most of the time that meant you were either protecting us, or afraid. Of losing us."

Gregory said "Maybe it was a mistake, trusting Lucius advice. My dad worried, time to time, especially when they decided to throw in with You-Know-Who. They understood the risks. Who could have seen that coming? They were close, our parents. Maybe we saw that more than you did Draco. We spent every Boxing Day together. But you weren't invited until last year."

Draco closed the door behind him. "So … we're on again for Boxing Day?"

"Christmas with Family. Friends for Boxing Day. That's what we do."

Draco couldn't express the profound relief he felt. He'd confessed almost everything in his letter. Revealing plots, even his Patronus, felt easy, even cleansing. More difficult was admitting rage at Father, at Father's mistakes, at the emptiness between him and Mother. It felt like opening a wound and handing out salt. Gregory and Vince had reasons to hate Lucius Malfoy and Draco. He'd feared giving out more, showing weakness about his inner conflicts.

It seemed he still had friends, which meant Draco must complete his confession.

"I know it's been hard, even before Voldemort"- they didn't flinch - "killed our Fathers. I know you disapproved last year my helping Granger, or suspected some deep plan. But it was just like it appeared."

"Why?" asked Crabbe.

"Why not? At first I was polite because Potter expected it. Useful. And where is it written we have to be jerks, even to Muggles? Random rudeness makes us all look terrible. I was … I'm still trying to save our House. And I realized, hating Muggles it's not just wrong, it's a sign of weakness, even if it's politically useful."

Draco sighed. "Yet another time Father was wrong. Even last summer at my house, I feared admitting the truth to you after it drove a wedge between me and mother. "

Vincent frowned, and Draco saw them exchange glances as he sat down heavily.

"If she lived with Muggles for a decade and still hates them, doesn't that mean there's something to it," asked Gregory.

"Mother hates them because her life was on hold. She blames them, that's easier than blaming Father. Or maybe herself. I spent a lot of the summer investigating. At first I was trying to find a reason to hate them. And there are reasons, but no different from why I'd hate anybody."

"And this hatred is one reason Slytherin is dying. At some point I'm going to reveal this, to challenge the others' beliefs. If Father were around, I could convince him and it would just be a matter of time, but without him, I might become a pariah."

Vincent and Gregory waited, and Draco made his final confession.

"I could lose. Even winning will cost me friends and support.. 'The boy who tried to have it both ways, who hated Muggles when Voldemort lived and championed them after he fell.' I don't want to drag you down with me. Our arrangement was made by our Fathers."

"And they're gone," said Gregory, "but you know we had a choice."

"Why would I want out now?" said Vince. "Voldemort murdered our families and everyone thinks we're the bad guys?"

"Our fathers bowed to him," said Gregory sharply. "Of course they think we're the bad guys."

"Voldemort championed hatred. Obviously we'd reconsider once he killed everyone. A backlash, starting by victims. In any case I didn't care one way or another. I'm not sure father did. Even if he did really hate them, that wasn't us. We didn't join as Death Eaters," said Vince.

"We might have," said Draco softly. "If he hadn't killed everyone. If he'd returned quietly and kept hidden. It would have been tough not to."

"Yeah, maybe." Vincent bit his lower lip. "Voldemort made it easy to hate him."

"I don't know," said Gregory. "I hate him,too, but I don't know if this will work. Maybe. As long as you don't reveal you were pro-Muggle last year"

"Don't decide now. We can keep being friends without being allies."

Vincent gazed at the ceiling as the train's piercing whistle hurried stragglers on board . "Our year is fine, mostly. Nott and Potter are close, the witches are neutralish, but listen to Hermione, Zabini doesn't like you..."

Gregory said "That's envy. He feels overshadowed."

"He can join the club" said Draco, more bitterly than intended. "Potter and Granger in the same year? In any case he can be General this year, that will cool him off." Draco saw their look. "Potter and Granger resigned. So there's no upside for me as General. If I beat up on rookies everyone shrugs, because I've had a year's experience. And if I don't. Well. Anyway Greengrass is in, too."

Gregory interrupted "How are they deciding replacements?"

"Depends. Some classes are keeping the same generals. It's still up in the air for our year, but Longbottom gets it if he wants. The class gets some say but the Professors do, too. "

"Professors?" they both said. Gregory continued without pause "So, it's a committee thing?"

"Yeah," said Draco with a smile.

Gregory ignored the bait, tacked back to the earlier conversation. "I worry about the older students. Thoughts?"

Draco leaned forward conspiratorially. "I can't tell about the Jugsons. The Carrows lost both parents and hated me to begin with. They'll view this as a personal insult."

"They weren't stable anyway." said Vince. "Most upperclassmen want to bully someone. They'd prefer to pick on Gryffindorks but don't care much" The train lurched once and the platform appeared to be rolling back. Draco saw Harry Potter hurriedly walk by and wondered if he'd just boarded, but snapped his attention back to Vince who was saying "Yeah, we'll be targets."

Gregory shrugged. "We can take them."