The Proposal

The next few days felt like they were teetering on the edge of something. Something big. Every time Harry saw Draco, he could feel it—this quiet undercurrent of tension, the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. It wasn't comfortable anymore, but at the same time, it was undeniable. They were at a crossroads, and Harry couldn't ignore it any longer. He was beginning to see that the pretense of their engagement had become far more complicated than either of them had ever planned. The lines between their roles and their feelings had blurred in a way Harry hadn't anticipated.

Draco, of course, was no help. He was distant, quieter than usual. His sharp wit was gone, replaced by an eerie silence that left Harry feeling both uneasy and frustrated. Every conversation felt like an exercise in patience, in trying to read between the lines of Draco's cool, indifferent exterior. Harry couldn't stand it. He wanted the real Draco back—the arrogant, sarcastic one who challenged him at every turn, who made him angry and stirred something inside him. This... this was worse.

It was a Friday evening when the moment came, and it happened completely by accident.

Harry was in the study at Malfoy Manor, going over some more documents for the fake business venture they were supposed to be "building together." He hated every minute of it. He hated the idea of pretending to be invested in this life. He wasn't an entrepreneur, and he certainly wasn't interested in Malfoy Enterprises. But Draco had insisted it would make their engagement more believable to the public, and Harry had grudgingly agreed.

It wasn't long before the door opened, and Draco stepped into the room. Harry barely looked up, absorbed in the contracts in front of him, but he could feel Draco's presence in the room. It was impossible not to.

"You look... busy," Draco said, his voice carrying the usual bite, but there was something off about it, like he was forcing the words out.

Harry raised an eyebrow, still not looking at him. "What's your excuse for being here, then?"

Draco didn't respond immediately. Instead, he walked over to the window, staring out at the darkening grounds of the manor. There was an unsettling stillness to him, like he was trying to figure out what to say. Harry could almost feel the tension radiating off him, thick and heavy.

"Is there a point to this?" Harry finally asked, trying to break the silence. "Or are you just going to stand there and look mysterious?"

Draco's lips curled slightly, but it wasn't the usual smirk Harry had come to expect. It was colder, less certain. "I don't know anymore, Potter," he muttered under his breath. "Maybe I've been pretending for too long."

Harry felt his pulse quicken at the words, his chest tightening. This wasn't like Draco. It was like something had cracked, and Harry wasn't sure how to handle it.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, his voice softer now. He finally looked up, meeting Draco's eyes, and for a split second, it was like the world stopped. Draco's gaze was full of something—pain, confusion, something raw and unguarded. Harry had never seen him like this.

"I didn't ask for this," Draco repeated, this time louder, like he was trying to convince himself. "I didn't ask to be dragged into this fucking charade. But now I'm stuck in it. And so are you."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but Draco was already shaking his head, pacing around the room. "You don't get it, do you? You've got this... this image of me. The arrogant, cruel bastard who never gives a damn about anyone. But you have no idea what it's like to be trapped in a role like that. To be expected to always act a certain way. To pretend everything's fine when it's not."

"Then stop pretending!" Harry shouted, the words coming out before he could stop them. "If it's that hard for you, just stop! We're both in this mess, Draco, but we don't have to keep playing these stupid games. If it's so unbearable for you, then tell me! Tell me how you really feel."

Draco stopped pacing, his eyes flashing with something that looked like anger, but there was an edge of desperation in it, too. "You don't get it, Harry. You don't get what it's like to be the person who always has to be perfect. Who always has to live up to everyone's expectations. I've spent my entire life doing that. And now I'm stuck doing it again. I'm supposed to be the perfect fiancé. The perfect son. The perfect heir. And all I want is for it to stop."

Harry took a step forward, his voice gentler now. "You don't have to do it alone, Draco. You never have to do it alone. But you have to let me in. You have to stop shutting me out."

Draco looked at him, his eyes a mixture of frustration and something that Harry couldn't quite place. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. It was as if neither of them knew how to navigate the tangled mess of emotions they had gotten themselves into.

Finally, Draco spoke, his voice quieter than before. "I don't know how to fix this," he said, his voice shaky. "I don't know how to fix me."

Harry stepped closer, the distance between them closing. He could feel the weight of Draco's words pressing down on him, the raw honesty in them making his chest tighten. "We'll figure it out," Harry said, his voice resolute. "I don't know how, but we will."

Draco's eyes searched his face for a moment, like he was trying to gauge whether Harry meant it. When Harry didn't back down, Draco finally let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

"I don't know what to believe anymore, Potter," Draco muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Believe in us," Harry said simply, reaching out to place a hand on Draco's shoulder. "Believe that we can do this. Because we have to."

For the first time in a long time, Draco didn't pull away. Instead, he stood there, his body tense but not rejecting the contact. The silence between them was still there, but now, it was different. It wasn't filled with animosity or anger. It was filled with something softer, something that felt like an opening. Like maybe, just maybe, they were starting to figure this out.

That night, Harry couldn't sleep. His mind raced, filled with questions he couldn't answer. Was this really happening? Was he really starting to feel something more for Draco? And what would it mean if they couldn't keep up the charade much longer?

But for the first time in weeks, Harry felt like the walls between them were starting to crack. And that... that scared him more than anything.