The Proposal

It was early in the morning when Harry received the owl from Rita Skeeter. He had expected it eventually, but he hadn't anticipated how much it would throw everything into disarray. The letter was short, direct, and laced with the kind of sarcasm only Rita could muster. She was playing her game, and she was going to make them all dance to her tune.

She had gotten wind of Draco's grandmother's birthday party, of course. Harry had a sinking feeling that she would be showing up with a notepad and an entourage of cameras to capture every moment. The story was already being written in her mind. The Betrayal of the Malfoy Scion—that was the headline she was aiming for.

Draco was pacing in front of the fireplace when Harry entered the living room, the letter clutched in Harry's hand. The tension between them had never felt thicker, and Harry could tell Draco was on the edge.

"Rita," Harry said, his voice edged with frustration. "She's onto us."

Draco froze, his eyes flicking to the letter. "I thought we might've been able to keep this quiet," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "But of course, Rita Skeeter always has a nose for scandal. Damn it."

"She's going to ruin everything," Harry said, pacing toward the window. The owl's contents burned in his mind. "She's going to dig up anything she can to make us look like fools. Or worse."

Draco stopped in his tracks, staring at the letter in Harry's hand. "What exactly does she want?" he asked, his voice low.

Harry unfolded the letter again, scanning it for any hints of what Skeeter was up to. "She says she wants an exclusive on the Malfoy family—she'll make us look like we're in love, that it's all true... but at the same time, she's threatening to expose the engagement as a sham if we don't cooperate."

"That's her game, isn't it?" Draco muttered bitterly. "Make us dance for her and let the public tear us apart for their entertainment."

Harry nodded. The thought of Skeeter making them a spectacle sickened him. This engagement, this lie, had always been fragile. The truth was hanging by a thread, and now Rita Skeeter was doing everything in her power to expose it.

"This can't go on," Harry said, turning toward Draco. "We need to tell the truth—tell the world this was never real."

Draco's face darkened, his jaw clenched. "I know," he said quietly. "But it's not that simple. It never was."

Harry could see the conflict written all over Draco's face. As much as Draco hated the lie they were living, as much as he resented the idea of continuing the charade, there was something about their situation that terrified him. Harry wasn't sure if it was the fear of being vulnerable, of opening up to someone, or the fear of losing control. But whatever it was, it was clear that Draco wasn't ready to let go.

"Maybe we could work something out with Skeeter," Harry suggested, though he wasn't sure it was the right move. "Offer her some kind of—compromise?"

Draco shook his head, his expression hardening. "You don't understand," he said sharply. "She'll twist everything we say. There's no compromise with Skeeter. There never was."

The words hung in the air between them, heavy with the weight of truth. There was no middle ground here. No way to keep up appearances while also maintaining any semblance of honesty. Not with Rita Skeeter on the prowl.

"Then what do we do?" Harry asked, the frustration leaking into his voice. "We can't keep pretending forever."

Draco ran a hand through his hair again, his gaze distant. "We're already in too deep. The only way out now is to play her game... at least for a little while longer."

Harry's heart sank. He could see it now—the exhaustion in Draco's eyes, the way he was already bracing for the inevitable fallout. It was clear that Draco wasn't willing to risk everything for the truth. Not yet, anyway.

Later that day, they found themselves at Malfoy Manor, preparing for the grand event—the birthday party for Draco's grandmother. Harry had never been fond of the grandiosity of the Malfoy estate, but today, it felt even more oppressive. Every hallway, every luxurious detail, seemed to mock the weight of the lies they were carrying.

Draco had barely spoken to him since their conversation earlier. The distance between them was palpable, and Harry didn't know if it was the pressure of the situation or if it was something deeper. It didn't matter. Draco was clearly pulling away, and Harry wasn't sure how much longer he could keep pretending everything was fine.

As they entered the large ballroom, Harry was hit with the sound of classical music drifting through the air. The Malfoy family was well-known for their extravagant parties, and this one was no different. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, and every surface was polished to perfection. Guests mingled in their finest robes, exchanging pleasantries and rumors. The grand affair was as opulent as Harry had come to expect from the Malfoy family.

"Look at this," Harry muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the room. "This is like something out of a fairy tale."

Draco shot him a quick look, his lips curling into a smirk. "It's all smoke and mirrors, Potter," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. "Don't be fooled."

Before Harry could respond, a voice called from across the room. "Draco, darling! You've arrived!"

Draco's mother, Narcissa Malfoy, appeared in the doorway, her face lighting up when she saw her son. Unlike her husband, Narcissa had always been distant yet caring, accepting of Draco's complexities even when he didn't understand them himself.

"Well, this should be interesting," Harry muttered, his eyes following Narcissa as she approached them.

Narcissa gave Harry a small, knowing smile before addressing Draco. "Your grandmother will be so pleased you've joined us. You look positively handsome tonight."

"Thank you, Mother," Draco replied stiffly, but Harry could see the slight shift in his demeanor. He wasn't just the aloof, wealthy Malfoy heir anymore. In this space, surrounded by family, he was someone else entirely.

"Are you ready to face the masses?" Narcissa asked, her tone a bit playful. "They've all been whispering about you two. You're quite the topic of conversation."

Draco's smile faltered for a second, but he quickly masked it with his usual composure. "Let them talk," he muttered. "I'm sure it'll be entertaining."

Narcissa exchanged a look with Harry, a silent understanding passing between them. "Just remember, dear," she said quietly, "family comes first. You can figure out everything else later."

Harry's chest tightened at her words. He had always felt like an outsider in the Malfoy family—no matter how many times they told him otherwise. But in that moment, with Narcissa's reassuring smile, Harry couldn't help but feel like he was standing on the edge of something real.

As the evening wore on, the atmosphere grew heavier. Every moment felt like it was leading to something. And as the inevitable moment loomed when they would have to face Draco's family—and their lie—the weight of everything they had been avoiding finally seemed unbearable.