"I bumped into Draco Malfoy last night." I was sitting at my brother Brendon's kitchen table; his wife and son were out, but his two year old daughter Johanna was racing around the kitchen at breakneck speed. "Jo, you're going to hurt yourself!"

"No I'm not, Aunt Tori," she insisted, brandishing her toy wand. "I'm going to fight the Death Eaters."

I looked back at my brother. His dark brown hair was hanging in his eyes, which gave him a deceptively sleepy look, but I could see the traces of a smile as he watched his daughter. "Good example," I muttered to him.

He shrugged. "As long as she's fighting, right? The war's never really over, Astoria - we both know that."

I suddenly felt very warm. It was the we, I know that it was; I'd always had a slight case of hero worship when it comes to my brother, and it was dramatically elevated when he became Brendon Greengrass, Slytherin war hero extraordinaire - and the reason I got to go back and fight the people who spent a year terrorizing us.

And for letting me live with his family so I never had to see our sister.

Having him treat me like an equal - like someone who knows things - always made me feel like I was doing something right.

"Expelliarmius!"

My brother's smile widened. "Expelliarmus, Jo, not expelliarmius."

"Okay, Daddy." She pointed the wand at him. "Expelliarmus!"

"Good!" He got to his feet, scooped her up, and deposited her in her chair. "Eat your cereal, and then Aunt Tori and I will take you to the menagerie."

Her spoon flew into her bowl.

"So you met Draco," my brother said, looking back at me. "How did you like him?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I still think he's a smug little prick." He glanced at Johanna, and I winced. "Sorry."

"Mm." He frowned. "He is, but he's given us a lot of good information. I'm not saying he's the best person in the world, but he's definitely not the worst - and if he keeps feeding the Aurors and Werewolf Capture information, I don't care whether it's mostly out of guilt."

"Do he really get death threats?" I asked. Malfoy had said as much the night before, but I hadn't really believed him.

Brendon looked a little taken aback. "Oh yes," he said. "He's had people make genuine attempts on his life - he keeps getting their friends arrested and thrown into Azkaban. He'll probably be laying low for awhile."

"Why is he doing it, though?" He'd wanted to meet up with me again, and I'd said yes. Self-destructive tendencies aside, it would be nice to go to that meeting armed with some information that was actually helpful.

Brendon shrugged. "Guilt. That's my guess. I think that Draco Malfoy was a spoiled little boy who got in way over his head and didn't really understand what all the words his family spouted off really meant, and when he did, he didn't have the stomach for it but couldn't think of a way out."

"He's a coward."

"Well, he was." Brendon drained the rest of his juice and pushed his chair back. "I'm not sure he is anymore."

The discussion had made me feel a little less guilty about my vague plans to meet Malfoy again - and on purpose, this time. I wouldn't have considered it in the first place if he hadn't offered to buy me alcohol, but still. It sounded like he probably didn't have plans to poison it. That was a positive.

A/N: Reviews are loved and appreciated. If you're curious to read what that meeting was like, please check out my fic "Dead Eyes and Red Eyes." Thank you so much for reading!

- Branwen