The Proposal

The party had been in full swing for hours. Draco had slipped into his role as the charming son, but Harry noticed the way his shoulders tensed every time someone came near. The pretense was wearing thin, and Harry couldn't help but wonder how much longer Draco could keep it up.

They'd spent most of the evening apart, each navigating the sea of conversations with Draco's relatives and friends, feigning normalcy. Harry had even found himself trapped in a corner with a very chatty woman named Isolde, who seemed determined to ask him questions about the 'blossoming romance' between him and Draco. She spoke in a voice so sugary sweet, Harry had to hold back the urge to roll his eyes.

Every so often, he caught glimpses of Draco across the room—laughing with family, his eyes sparkling with a touch of wit, but there was something forced about it all. Harry had always known that Draco was good at putting on a show, but tonight, it felt like the cracks were starting to appear.

"Potter!" Isolde chirped, bringing him out of his thoughts. "I just must say, you two are quite the pair. It's so lovely to see two such... strong personalities coming together."

Harry's jaw clenched, and he forced a smile, nodding along. "Yes, well, we're certainly good at keeping each other on our toes," he said, his voice as calm as he could manage.

Isolde giggled in response, as though Harry had just told her a delightful secret. He barely suppressed a grimace. She moved on to more questions about their 'engagement,' and Harry was just about to feign an excuse to escape when he saw Draco approach from the other side of the room.

"Potter," Draco said with a forced grin, slipping an arm around Harry's waist as though it were the most natural thing in the world. Isolde's eyes practically sparkled with excitement at the sight.

"Well, well, look at you two," she cooed. "A picture-perfect couple. You must tell me, how did this love story begin?"

Harry could see the strain in Draco's eyes, but he wasn't sure whether it was because of the pressure of the situation or because of the very real tension between them that had been building for days.

Draco smiled, though there was an edge to it. "Ah, a simple story really," he said smoothly, his voice just as charming as ever. "A little magic, a little chance. Nothing too dramatic."

Isolde clapped her hands in delight. "How utterly romantic!"

Harry wanted to throw his hands up in frustration. This whole thing felt like it was spiraling out of control. Every word they said, every move they made, was a part of a lie they were both desperately trying to keep intact. And Rita Skeeter was lurking somewhere in the background, waiting for the perfect moment to expose them.

But then, to Harry's surprise, Draco leaned in closer, his lips brushing Harry's ear, though his words were for his eyes only. "Let's just get through this night," Draco muttered under his breath. "We'll figure it out later."

Harry's heart skipped a beat, but he couldn't afford to get lost in the moment. He had a plan now. They both did. But the longer this charade continued, the less certain he was of how it would end.

Later that evening, after the party had started to wind down and the guests were beginning to trickle out, Draco and Harry found themselves in the drawing room, a safe distance away from the last of the chatter.

The silence was heavy, and Harry's nerves were frayed. He knew what was coming, knew that the truth was going to come out sooner or later. They couldn't keep up this facade forever. Not with Skeeter breathing down their necks.

"I can't keep pretending, Draco," Harry said, his voice low. He looked at Draco, searching for the resolve he needed. "This whole thing—it's breaking us."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "What are you saying, Potter? You want to quit?"

Harry hesitated, but the words came tumbling out anyway. "We're not fooling anyone anymore. Not really. We can't just—" He stopped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "We can't just keep up this act. We owe it to ourselves to be honest."

For a long moment, Draco said nothing. The room was unnervingly quiet, and Harry felt his heartbeat in his throat. He could see the fight brewing in Draco's eyes, the part of him that wanted to rip away the mask and reveal the truth to the world. But he also saw the part of him that was terrified.

"I'm not ready to just throw it all away," Draco said at last, his voice tight with an emotion Harry couldn't quite place. "Not yet."

Harry felt his heart sink. "And what if it's too late by then? What if the lie's exposed and we're left with nothing?"

Draco's jaw clenched, but there was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that Harry hadn't seen before. It was there, just beneath the surface—a deep fear of what would happen if everything fell apart.

"I don't know," Draco whispered. "But I'm not ready to give up on this just yet."

Harry exhaled sharply, the tension in the air thick enough to suffocate him. They stood there for what felt like an eternity, neither willing to make the next move. They both knew they were running out of time. Rita was out there somewhere, no doubt preparing her next move, and if they didn't come clean soon, the entire plan would be exposed.

Finally, Draco broke the silence. "We need to keep playing her game," he said, his tone resolute. "For now."

Harry nodded, though he wasn't entirely sure he agreed. "We do this your way, Draco," he said quietly, "but don't think for a second I'm okay with lying to everyone, even ourselves."

Draco's expression softened, just a little, but it was still guarded. He reached for Harry's hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "I know. But we're in this together, Potter. We don't have a choice."

And for reasons Harry couldn't explain, he believed him.

As they stood there in the drawing room, Harry couldn't help but think that everything was slowly unraveling. The pressure was mounting, and the truth felt more distant than ever. He had always known that this was a dangerous game they were playing, but now, as the weight of it all threatened to crush them, Harry realized that nothing would ever be the same again.

Not for them. Not for anyone.