Come the Sun

There is a young man in the room, sitting on the little cot, staring off into nothing.

The room is not-quite-white, paint dirty from many years with no cleaning, and the tile floor is scuffed. The guards have locked the room's door behind them, but the young man does not care. Sunlight, streaming through the barred windows, plays on his face, but he does not notice. He has white-blonde hair and grey eyes like cold granite. The young man's name is Draco Malfoy.

"Alohomora," someone says outside. The door opens and closes. Clack, clack, proclaim the boots on the tile floor, as another young man approaches Draco Malfoy.

"Well," says the young man.

Draco Malfoy does not acknowledge him, and he sighs. This young man squints in the stream of the sunlight, turning to keep it from reflecting off the lenses of his glasses. He has his father's black hair, his mother's green eyes, and his enemy's scar. But more important than those are the Auror's badge upon his robes. This young man's name is Harry Potter.

"They've decided to go easy on you," Harry Potter says into the silence. For a long moment, Draco Malfoy still does not seem to hear him.

"So I ratted out just enough people to be valuable." His words are monotone, half-whispered, face expressionless.

"You could say that." There is a note of bitterness in Harry Potter's voice. He seems to notice it, and he sighs again. "But as I was saying... They're not sending you to Azkaban."

Draco Malfoy's tone does not change. "Sure about that? I'd think they'd be feeling a bit vengeful, since their spy got killed."

Harry Potter's face darkens for a moment as he shakes his head.

"No, they aren't. I think Dumbledore had a hand in it. There's a committee meeting right now trying to decide what to do with you."

Silence for a few moments. Draco Malfoy turns his blank gaze down toward the floor.

"What did they do about...Lucius?"

Harry Potter hugs himself around the waist, and looks sick for a moment. "Dementor's Kiss."

Draco looks up. The cold grey eyes flash with momentary fire.

"Good."

The sickened look remains on Harry's face. "I thought you liked your father."

"When? Back in school?" Draco gives a derisive snort, but the expression does not reach his eyes. "He was my idol."

"What changed?" Harry sounds as if he is not sure he should be asking this question.

Silence again.

"I loved my mother, you know," Draco says suddenly. Harry just stares at him.

"We weren't very close, really, but I loved her."

"I... I see." Harry seems confused.

Draco does not notice. He continues in his monotone, looking away at nothing. "You're supposed to love your mother, you know. And so I did. Second to him, she was the most important person in my life."

"Well, your life's not over yet, I don't know why you're putting it that way--"

Draco does not seem to hear.

"And he knew that. Lucius knew. And he brought her along, the night of my initiation, knowing it. And the Dark Lord said, well, no matter if she's a pureblood, I just want you to prove you're more loyal to me than to family."

Harry's eyes grow wide with dawning horror. He does not try to interrupt again.

"There was nothing else to do, if I wanted to save my own skin." Not a sliver of emotion enters Draco's voice. "They had me cast Cruciatus until she died."

Harry stares.

Draco looks up at him. The fire is burning softly in the back of his eyes.

"He deserved the Kiss."

They watch each other in silence for a while longer, until Harry turns toward the door. Clack, clack.

"Well, I should get back to the meeting."

The door opens.

"For what it's worth," says Harry Potter, "I'm sorry."

The door closes. The sound of boots fades into the distance.

The sunlight plays on Draco Malfoy's face, and his eyes drink it in with relish.