I do not own or presume to be equal to any of JK Rowling's work.
He studied the loveliest of his servants carefully. Tears streaked her face as she pled for the life of her insubordinate son. His eyes shrank to little more than slits at the mere thought of the damage that the damn brat had done to his armies. However, she had been a useful servant, and it wouldn't matter to him if the little bastard he was fixing to kill tried to explain away his actions. He glanced at the heap of blood and vomit stained robes at the foot of his throne.
With an internal shrug, he gestured for the other Death Eaters to leave. Only he, Bellatrix, Narcissa, and the brat remained. He paused for effect, then gave his instructions without a hint of emotion: "we will hear his reasoning" with the barest of hisses. Narcissa whimpered and fell to the floor, praising her one and only master. In truth, Lord Voldemort himself was curious as to why the boy, once considered his most likely successor, had undergone such a drastic change. Bella prodded the lump, and the boy raised his battered head, staring directly at Lord Voldemort with the eerily silver eye he had left.
Then Draco began to laugh. Blood flowed from his head as his hoarse, humorless laugh echoed through the room. "No reason you would understand, my Lord" he spat. The words were barely out of his mouth before Bella had him under one of her excellent crutacious curses again. The woman truly had a gift for pain. However, as horrible as Draco felt, he was not screaming, his mouth opened into a silent "O". Voldemort supposed he had no voice left to scream with. He gestured to Bella to stop.
Draco spat out the blood from his mouth, accumulated during the curse from his again-bitten tongue. He moved to wipe his mouth with his dirt, blood, and vomit covered sleeve, but then seemed to realize the futility of the gesture. He then asked a rather odd question of the Dark Lord. "Do you really want to know?" he asked, an unfathomable look in his eye (the other socket was now crusted in dried blood, the removal having taken place hours before).
The Lord of the Death Eaters simply raised an eyebrow. Draco raised one in response, and Voldemort was reminded of how icily beautiful he had been. Draco grinned in a twisted fashion, more a grimace than an expression of pleasure; if he had understood such things, Voldemort would have recognized it as a smile of pain and loss and self hatred. However, he did not see the world in the way that most do, so Draco's feelings meant nothing to him. He simply remained silent, waiting for the boy-thing to answer so that he could give it to Bella to play and grow bored with quickly.
Draco looked at the dirt floor beneath him, then raised his eye to the heavens. He spoke. "It was…for love." His twisted smile did not even have time to change into a grimace as Voldemort cast the killing curse in response to hearing his least favorite word.
He looked at its mother in an almost sympathetic manner, if he could be considered to have any sympathy. He said simply "do you know?". She looked at him and nodded, her face knotted in pain and rage. He smiled. "Then I will kill her for you myself." His laughter and the harsh laughter of his heartbroken servant Narcissa echoed into the night.