(Drarry) Faking My Own Death

(CW: short mention of Draco's weight loss)

"You know I know you're a pro and con artiste
Oh, baby you're a false alarm
Why do I try to play it by the rules?
I was the victim but I'm not a fool

You stole my heart and left me blue
It looks like crime pays for you"

Harry wasn't looking forward to this part. He would have preferred to avoid Draco, even if he was pulling his hair out over why Draco would be here. He would have still preferred not knowing over talking to Draco. 

The trio made their way upstairs and down the hall, Hermione walking in front and Harry trailing in last. Hermione knocked on the door, saying: "We're here to talk, Draco. Step away from the door." She paused. "Or like, get decent or something?"

Hermione turned their head to Ron and Harry and shrugged, mouthing "I don't know?"

The two boys stared back deadpanned. Ron whispered: "WTF Hermione?"

"Hey, you talk to him then!" Hermione urged.

Ron announced the three of them were coming inside and simply swung open the door.

Once all three of them were inside, Harry closed the door behind them and leaned against it. Draco sat on his neatly made bed, his back against the wall. Harry noticed he was wearing the same black blouse and pair of black trousers as the day before, only they were all wrinkled now. His blazer and tie lay on the bed next to him, like he was pondering whether to put them on or not. For now, his blouse's top button was undone, showing more of his pale skin.

Draco's hair was somewhat messy, but looked like he had made an effort to tidy it. The boy had bags under his eyes, a bleak combination of red puffy skin toned down by dark circles. When Harry thought about it a moment, he realised Draco's eyes had looked the same the day before. Whatever he had been going through, apparently he had been getting sleepless nights long before he was imprisoned by Harry and the gang.

Ron took the wooden chair that stood in the corner and sat down like he was a detective from a Muggle television show: his legs spread apart, his arms leaning on his thighs as he leaned forward with a frown, his hands rubbing together in thought. It would have been funny, were it not for the gravity of the conversation about to follow.

Hermione stood in between the two others, her arms crossed in front of her chest, as if trying to protect herself from whatever hurtful comments Draco was about to sling at them.

She was the first to speak up: "Why are you here?"

Draco's eyes darted between the three of them. He answered pensively: "I'm here to help. I know it sounds weird coming from, well, me, but there is more to it than you think."

"It's beyond weird, Draco. It's absurd, it's Twilight Zone-levels of freaky." Ron snapped back.

Harry was more concerned with the last part of Draco's statement. He realised that Draco didn't know how much Harry would have told his friends about their private moments together. Since Harry had told them nothing, he really hoped Draco wouldn't bring any of it up. It would make things very awkward, real soon.

Draco continued: "It's a long story. Basically, I have been trying to think of a way to help you for months. This seemed like the perfect opportunity to desert from You-Know-Who's side."

Harry attempted to hold back a scoff, but failed rather miserably. The others turned to him with questioning looks and Harry said: "You deserted? So, what? You're a good guy now?"

Draco stared at him with a frown. "Yes? I mean, I helped you back at the Manor, didn't I? I know it was a little too late for... well-" Draco halted.

He nervously shot a look in Hermione's direction before adding: "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I didn't know how to stop her. I didn't know there were prisoners in our cellar, so I figured we would be outnumbered, so I didn't try anything before."