"Draco…" Lucius started, panicky, stuttering. "Draco, come."
Draco stared across the courtyard - more fittingly, the battlefield, covered in rubble and blood - into his fathers eyes. Those cold, bloodshot eyes, now looking at him in terror. 'Join me or die,' the Dark Lord had said. Draco watched the reality of it chase what little pride was left off of his father's face. When was the last time that happened? When was the last time Lucius was concerned for Draco's well-being? When was the last time his concern for his son outweighed his thirst for power?
When was the last time YOU cared? He thought.
Suddenly, he was a son again. Not a tool - not an asset for power and protection nearly at the cost of his young, bittersweet life. Now his life wasn't worth gambling?
Now that there's no battle left to win.
Draco stood still, looking into those pale blue eyes that so matched his own, wishing they didn't, determined not to falter, determined to show him he was going to die for something that was worth it… For the now-dead boy who did nothing but fight the darkness that was consuming Draco's life, who only hours earlier saved Draco's life. And he would die of his own accord - not at the will of his so-called father.
For once, he would deliberately disappoint, defy, and disobey Lucius Malfoy.
He felt death closing in, and yet, it was liberating. He could visualize the dagger his death would be to Lucius, piercing his old, broken, black heart with a fire hotter than what was likely still blazing in the Room of Requirement. Lucius had never looked more pathetic. In his younger days his father was so regal to him - upright, proud, an untouchable force. Now he looked like an old mangy dog left out in the rain.
Draco's whole awareness fixed upon those weepy, fear-stricken eyes. Everything else began to fade, until a distant voice rang like a gentle Phoenix song.
"Draco," Narcissa called. His name never sounded more like his than when she said it. From everyone else, it simply sounded like his label. His mother managed to pour his entire identity into the tiny word. But more importantly, it made him feel loved. The way it gently flowed from her lips was like a song all on its own. He'd never truly been loved by anyone in his life. Pansy was simply infatuated - she said his name like it was a naughty word that excited her. Everyone around him had used him, either for power or for pleasure, even Crabbe and Goyle (and in some instances, ESPECIALLY Crabbe and Goyle). Everyone except Narcissa. Her voice cooing his name tore his concentration from his defiance of his father.
"Come."
He could have sworn she was smiling. It was hiding, just behind her lips. But there was nothing to smile about… Or was there?
No one else was smiling. No one bore even a whisper of a smile, except, of course, Voldemort, and his chief lemming, Bellatrix. Narcissa knew something. Something no one else did. Something Voldemort and Bellatrix wouldn't be smiling about - because his loyalties did not reflect what was in his heart, and he knew his mother was the same way.
He'd been putting his faith in the wrong people his whole life. It was time he finally changed that. It was time he finally trusted the one person he knew never has and never would do anything to hurt him, no matter what it meant she gained in the long run. The one who risked her own life for the sake of his protection, not the other way around.
Draco stepped forward. The image of his sniveling father faded away, and all he could see was his mum and her outstretched hand.