This Themed was written for the Slytherin House, prompt being Blaming someone else - 2,153 words

The dullness and the silence of the holding cell was starting to drive Draco insane. Sure, he once lived in a sprawling mansion, but it had never been silent nor uninteresting. It couldn't ever be, not with Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black in the same building.

Mother, father…

Draco gulped, rubbing the nearly-gone Dark mark on his left forearm. When he was younger, his father spoke of the war as something glorious, with Dark Lord easily dominating the battlefields of both politics and duelling. He still vividly remembered Lucius' words…

"There is no words that would do our Lord justice," Lucius explained to the eight-year-old Draco, who was sitting on the carpet and watching his father with attentiveness typical for hero worship. "And the war… it was never easy. Yet, I've never felt so fulfilled."

The nostalgia was clear in the older man's voice, and his eyes were glazed over as he sank into his memories.

"There's nothing more exhilarating than the victory in the battle, whether in the Ministry or out in the field," Lucius continued in a hushed tone. "I've never felt so alive, Draco. It was as if nothing could touch us. We were winning. Nobody and nothing could stop us. Until that blasted Potter boy."

Draco made an appropriate grimace at the hated name, and Lucius' eyes darkened in disappointment and anger.

"No one truly knows what happened that night - that is between the Dark Lord, Potter, and I suspect that Muggle-loving fool Dumbledore. But, whatever happened, it would be a good idea to approach Potter amicably, Draco. Even if he's a fraud, he will be in a perfect position to influence the future. The one who influences Harry Potter will control Britain."

"I will!" Draco promised, his eyes never leaving his father's face. "I'll do you proud!"

Lucius smiled grimly, rising from his wingback chair. "I know you will. You're a Malfoy, and Malfoys do not disappoint."

If only he hadn't listened that day! If only his father had not told him the stories of the war, making it sound so appealing, so noble!

The reality of the war was much more horrifying.

In the not quite three years of conflict and two of the open warfare, Draco had seen and done so much he had fuel for nightmares to last him a lifetime. Dark Lord had not been the promised savior and revolution leader Lucius had described. No, he was simply a mad tyrant, who would kill one of his most trusted allies as easily as one of his fiercest opponents, and Draco could honestly say he was scared to death of him.

The worst part was, Draco had no means to evade the madman's clutches. If only his father had never joined him! The Dark Lord never expected of the Neutral families to receive the Dark Mark as the sign of their loyalty, only to stay of his way and not help his opposition. If only his mother had not stood by the side and let her husband spin lies of the glory of the Dark! In terms of political standing, Black family held the higher standing than the Malfoy. She could've stopped him!

Draco loved his parents dearly and always wanted to make them proud, but he couldn't help but be deeply disappointed in them, even slightly angry. They were both Slytherins, for Salazar's sake! Could they not read the situation better and entertain the thought of staying neutral, if only to save their only child? Potter's parents literally gave their lives to save their child! What was the slight change of loyalty in comparison to that?

Potter… If only he hadn't survived that Samhain night, back in 1981! Every history book Draco had read agreed the Dark Lord's power and influence was growing, and the Light was slowly but steadily losing. If the Potter family had been extinguished that night, the Dark Lord would've won sooner or later, and Draco would not be here! He would be in Hogwarts instead, receiving his N.E.W.T.s and enjoying the subtle pride on his father's and mother's faces as he informed them of his success. He would never have to worry about the war, or the future.

"Hey, Malfoy Jr.," his Auror guard barked, startling Draco. "You have a visitor."

A visitor, and not a lawyer? This close to the trial? Draco could not help but wonder who came. It couldn't be any of his House mates, they were all either in Azkaban, awaiting the trial like him or under the house arrest. He stood up, dusting himself off, and tried to look as presentable as possible in the prisoner garb.

"Be careful, sir," Auror said to someone Draco could not see - the mysterious visitor.

"Don't worry about me, Auror Haley," a horribly familiar male voice reached Draco's ears, and the prisoner stiffened. What in the Morgana's name is he doing here, visiting me of all people?! "I can deal with Malfoy."

Auror Haley grumbled a little but stepped aside, tapping the lock with his wand. "Half an hour, as per protocol, Mr. Potter."

"I know, I know," and Harry bloody Potter walked into Draco's line of view, easily slipping into the cell. "You know your part as well, Auror Haley."

Auror nodded, closed the door and removed himself - ostensibly for their privacy, but Draco knew he was still within shouting range if something goes wrong - leaving the two former rivals alone to stare at each other.

Potter was the first one to speak. "You look like hell, Ferret."

Draco bristled at the insult, but Potter's face gave no indication he was joking.

"Same could be said for you, Scarface." Draco's assessment wasn't far off mark: Potter had deep bags under his eyes and looked thinner and more gaunt than ever.

The bespectacled boy shrugged. "Nine months on the run does that to a man. Not to mention the string of trials Kingsley simply cannot have without me around to testify."

Draco snorted. "You could've backed out."

Harry smiled humorlessly, and Draco was struck how much had the other boy changed in the past seven years. Morgana, he had next to no resemblance to that boy in the first year!

"I actually wanted to testify on half of those trials, the other half are compliments of the new Minister. I just finished Umbridge's yesterday." Potter clenched his hands, eyes fiery but face blank. "I must say, I enjoyed Hermione rip her apart before the jury voted on the sentence. Life in Azkaban."

Draco winced. Oh how he hoped Granger wouldn't be his prosecutor!

"If her mouth is anything like her punch, I'm glad it wasn't me. The little Mudblood -"

Potter crossed the cell in two strides and drove his fist into Draco's solar plexus. Draco groaned in pain, collapsing on the floor, suddenly having trouble breathing. Scratch that, Potter is the one with the impressive punches.

"Don't. Call. Hermione. That." Potter's hissing had the undertone he learned to associate with Dark Lord before he started speaking in parseltongue, and Draco shuddered. Damn him for reminding him of the madman!

"I," Draco gasped, "wanted to… compliment her!"

"Then don't use that word," Potter's voice was still low, but not hissing. "She's worth a hundred of you."

Draco rolled his eyes and wobbly stood up. "Why did you come here, Potter?"

"Because I want to be your witness for defense."

Draco froze. He must've misheard. Harry Potter, witness for defense for Draco Malfoy? "What?"

Potter huffed, stance defensive. "You heard me, Malfoy."

"What do you want, Potter?" Don't you dare lie to me about your reasons, Draco tried to tell the other. Potter smirked.

"I don't need anything, Malfoy," he said slowly, as if explaining a complicated theory to a retard. "It's pro bono. No strings attached."

It was a truth on some level, yet… Draco was not a Slytherin for nothing.

"Why?"

Potter lost the smirk, his eyes darkening.

"Your mother," he said simply, as if that explained everything.

It did not.

"What about my mother?" Draco huffed.

Potter narrowed his gaze. "She saved my life."

The rage did not resemble fiery inferno, Draco suddenly thought as that emotion crashed over him, but the storm of icy pikes, both cold and burning at the same time.

"So," the blonde sneered, "she saved the life of the child she despised, but did not even try to save her son from forcible servitude?"

Potter flinched and took a step back, eyes wide. "What - ?"

Draco went ahead, ignoring Potter. "She let her child fantasize about joining the Dark Lord without telling him he was a nightmare incarnate, let her husband advise her son to befriend Light's Savior even though she knew he would probably reject him, left him alone - "

"Shut up, Malfoy." Draco had never heard Potter speak so coldly before. His green eyes looked darker than ever, and for a moment, Draco could see what had both the Dark Lord and the fool Dumbledore seen in the otherwise unremarkable wizard. It was truly a frightening feeling, almost as if he were standing in the presence of the Death itself.

"Your mother loved you more than anything. She told Voldemort," and here Draco flinched instinctively, "I was dead just because I had told her you were alive and well at the castle. I don't owe your mother or you any debt, Malfoy: I was simply impressed by her loyalty and love."

Draco swallowed, and Potter took a deep breath before continuing.

"Even your father was terrified you were dead. He tried to persuade Voldemort to end the fight, so he could search for you."

Here he stopped and looked deep into Draco's eyes, as if searching for something.

"I've never met my parents, but I know they gave their lives protecting me. Sure, I could be angry at them for not choosing a more trustworthy friend for a Secret Keeper, or for not changing sides when Voldemort offered them, early in the first war. But they stayed true to their conviction, and did all they thought was possible to protect me, and I'm proud of them. Your parents did the exact same thing. You should be proud of them."

"They could've done more," Draco argued weakly. "Taught me differently -"

"You're a hypocrite, Draco," Potter cut him off. "You cannot blame them for the choices you made. You knew what options you had."

Why was he so irritatingly insightful?

"I didn't have other options!" Draco screamed.

"Yes, you did!" Potter shouted. "There are always other options! You had a choice between what was right and what was easy, and you chose the easy path!"

"Easy for you to preach about right and wrong, Potter, when it's you who won this war!" Draco spat, not caring about the consequences. He just wanted Potter and his too sharp, too truthful words to go away.

"Right and wrong have nothing to do with being on either side of war!" Potter stepped closer, forcing Draco to back away. "I'm talking about you choosing the easy path, not the one you felt was right for you!"

That shut the blonde up. He had never looked at the situation that way.

"I'm not going to tell anyone what you said to me, Draco," and for the first time in his life Potter - Harry called him by his name, sounding stiffer than ever. "Nor will I go against your wishes." He turned to leave.

"Mum, wait!" Little Draco shouted, trotting unsurely behind his mother. Narcissa Malfoy nee Black stopped in her majestic stroll through the Malfoy mansion.

"Yes, my little Dragon?" she asked with a soft smile as she crouched down, minding her dress' skirts.

Draco shifted from one foot to another, telegraphing his nervousness. "Mum, what if I do something to disappoint you?"

Narcissa's smile gained a sad edge. "Come here, little Dragon," she said, opening her arms, and Draco ran straight into her embrace. "You have been talking to your father again?"

Draco n

Draco nodded, the movement hidden in the heavy fabric.

"Oh, Draco," Narcissa whispered, carding her fingers through her son's fine, nearly-white hair. "As long as you're happy, I will be happy."

"But what if I disappoint you or Father?" Draco persisted.

Narcissa shook her head in fond exasperation.

"You never will, Draco," the woman reassured her son. "We may not always be happy with your choices, Dragon, but we will always love you. You can never disappoint; not as long as you're truly happy."

"Wait!" Draco called desperately.

Potter turned around, his hand already on the doorknob.

"Yes?"

"I… okay. I'll let you be my witness for defense."

Potter snorted, a smile ghosting around the edges of his lips.

"You'll let me, Malfoy? Merlin, you're still an arrogant sod."

Draco drudged up some of the old cockiness,plastering a smirk on his features.

"But of course, Potter. I'm a Malfoy."