His Mummy always told him he was an angel, an angel like Gabriel from their stories, with his curly blonde hair and striking blue eyes. All angels had these features, she would tell him. But he was a different kind of angel, born from a grandest of all demons, and that made him very special. She would twirl his hair around her finger and get very still then, so still that the only noise was the two of them breathing and the flickering of the candle on the night side table, for Draco never dared to speak when his Mummy got like this. He didn't like this part of the story that would make her like this, like the sad lady, but he would never ask her his question until she smiled at him a little and released his curl; pulled it taut to watch it spring back.

"Did the angel's parents love him?"

Draco always asked this quietly, sometimes hoping that she wouldn't hear him and she wouldn't have to answer. But this was part of the story, and one didn't break a story.

"Sometimes."

And his Mummy would pull another curl, telling him that the sad lady always loved him, and always would. Would tell him that the demon hated him for being so pure, when all he wanted was a darkness just like him. Draco would sometimes cry a little at this, as he didn't like the idea of a demon hating him, and Mummy would kiss his forehead whether he cried or not and assure him that she would protect him. That she always would. And that's when Draco would have to ask, "Are you the sad lady?"

She would go quiet again, gnaw at her lower lip in a worried way, and he would think that she couldn't be, for the sad lady was always sad, while Mummy was always happy, even when he broke her favorite bottle of perfume. And every time she would surprise him.

"Yes."

And he would hug her with all his little might, and she would bury her nose into his ringletted hair. Sometimes she would kiss him, on the top of his head, and softly murmur words in a language he couldn't understand. Always she would let just one tear fall, so that when he broke away, Draco would kiss it away. They would stay like that, blue eyes staring at each other. Perfect mirrors.

"Is Father the demon?"

His Mummy would never answer this question, would always turn away, ashamed. She would return to be his Mummy, no longer the sad lady, and would bustle him up and send him outside if it was sunny, or put him in the library if it rained. His Mummy was always in such a hurry to not answer that question that it surprised him when today she let one more tear fall.

"Yes."

And soon another fell. And another. And another. And soon, there were rivers of tears that could not be stopped, pools and lakes and oceans. His Mummy sobbed and screamed and would not be comforted, but it didn't matter, for Draco did not move to anyway. He sat there on his knees, dumbfounded, and could only not hear the screaming anymore when his nurse set up a silencing charm on his room, slamming the door behind her in such a flurry that the walls shook.

His bathroom was bright, pearly and clean. He turned on the tap and watched the basin fill with mild acknowledgement until it was nearly to the brim before turning it off. Draco stripped his play clothes from his skin and shivered in the cold. And dunked his head into the water.

It was boiling and it burned and seared at his young flesh, but he did not cry out. No, he scrubbed. He scrubbed and he scrubbed and he scrubbed some more, clawing at his eyes in a hopeless sort of desperation. When he thought himself done he threw himself up, tossing water onto the floor and looked into the mirror.

Dull eyes reflected back at him, darkened, a steely sort of gray, and beautiful fine curls of once gold shone silver back at him, slicked back into straight place. He turned to see if he could catch a glimpse of a stray ringlet, but none were there, and a grim sort of satisfaction became him.

What looked back at him was the demon. He had become the darkness.

And Draco stared at that mirror for a very long time, occasionally dunking his head back into the cooling water when his eyes shone a little too much or when his hair threatened to break from their shell. When his nurse came to get him he was still there, and screamed in a terrible voice so unlike his own that she shuddered in horror when she tried to pull him away.

"I have to save Mummy! I have to save my Mummy! The demon will free her if I'm no longer an angel, don't you see? I have to save Mummy!"

But sad lady was all that was left, and Mummy never returned.