The Proposal

It felt like everything had changed overnight. The weight of the truth sat heavily on Harry's shoulders, but Draco was still insisting they keep up the charade, and for reasons Harry couldn't fully understand, he found himself going along with it. Their life together, or rather, the life they were pretending to have, was beginning to fray at the edges.

The tension between them had reached new heights. Their casual touches now felt loaded with unspoken words, their conversations tinged with sharpness. They were stuck in a delicate balance, each day trying to outwit the other while pretending this was all real. But deep down, they both knew it wasn't.

As the days passed, it became harder to ignore the growing distance between them. The more they fought to hold on to their lie, the more the truth seemed to slip through the cracks.

The tipping point came unexpectedly.

It started as a normal evening—drinks at the Malfoy estate, a quiet gathering of family, close friends, and a few notable guests. Draco had made sure that Harry felt as comfortable as possible, guiding him through the night with a practiced ease that only Draco could pull off. He even smiled when Harry mentioned how everything felt "normal" in a way that made him forget they were playing pretend.

But then, just as they were about to leave for the night, Harry was approached by none other than Rita Skeeter.

The reporter's sharp eyes flicked over to Draco, who had been conversing with a group of family members across the room, his back turned. Rita, as always, had a glint of mischief in her gaze, her bright yellow quill poised in hand. She had been circling them ever since the moment they'd entered Malfoy Manor, and Harry knew it was only a matter of time before she pounced.

"Potter," Rita purred, her voice dripping with insincerity. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything too... important." She made a show of glancing at Draco, who hadn't noticed her approach. "He looks so—distracted."

Harry narrowed his eyes, annoyed at the way she was already toying with him. "What do you want, Skeeter?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," she said, but the way she spoke was anything but innocent. "I simply wanted to ask how things are going with you and Mr. Malfoy. Your 'engagement' is, after all, quite the story."

Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He could hear the sly undertone in her voice, the hint of doubt she was planting in his mind. The lie they'd constructed—this so-called engagement—was starting to feel more fragile than ever, and Skeeter was only adding fuel to the fire.

Before Harry could respond, Skeeter continued, her voice louder now, as though daring him to admit something he wasn't ready to face. "I'm sure the public would love to know more about how the Great Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy ended up together. It's not every day that a supposed hero ends up... well, with a Malfoy, is it?"

Harry's blood ran cold. The words were cutting, and even though they weren't entirely false, they stung all the same. He didn't need Skeeter to remind him how unlikely—how impossible—it seemed that he could ever be with Draco, of all people. And yet here they were.

Draco, noticing the exchange, turned around just in time to catch the last part of Skeeter's comment. His eyes narrowed, but he didn't approach. Instead, he watched them from a distance, as though waiting for Harry to handle it.

Harry straightened his back, trying to remain calm. "We're fine, Skeeter," he said, keeping his voice steady. "And I'd appreciate it if you kept your rumors to yourself."

Rita's eyes gleamed with amusement, but there was a sharpness beneath the surface. "Of course," she replied, her smile stretching wider. "I'm sure your 'relationship' is perfectly legitimate. But I'll be keeping an eye on things, Potter. After all, I do have a knack for spotting the truth. Wouldn't you agree?"

Harry's stomach twisted in knots. The words felt like a warning. A threat, even. Rita Skeeter was not one to be ignored, and Harry knew that the more she pressed, the harder it would be to maintain the illusion they'd built.

"Good night, Skeeter," Harry said, his voice cool, before walking past her to rejoin Draco. His heart was pounding in his chest, the weight of the situation pressing down on him with every step.

Draco was waiting for him, but there was something in his eyes now that Harry couldn't quite place. Something between frustration and... something else. Maybe it was guilt.

As they walked toward the door together, Draco spoke first, his voice low. "You're not going to let her get to you, are you?"

Harry didn't respond immediately, too caught up in his own thoughts. Rita Skeeter was the last person they needed complicating things further. But Draco's question still hung in the air, his words somehow carrying more weight than Harry was prepared for.

Draco continued. "You know she's just trying to cause trouble."

"I know," Harry muttered. "But it's getting harder, Draco. The more she pokes and prods, the more I feel like everything's going to fall apart."

Draco's hand found Harry's, his fingers curling around his palm in a subtle, but telling gesture. "It's just one more obstacle. We've dealt with worse."

"I'm not worried about the obstacles," Harry said, shaking his head. "I'm worried about us. The lie we're living—how much longer can we keep pretending? We can't keep this up forever, Draco."

For a moment, Draco was silent. Then, his voice softened, as though he was unsure of how to say the words. "I don't want to let go of this... not yet. Not until we've figured out what's real."

Harry stopped walking, forcing Draco to halt with him. "But we're not figuring it out, Draco. We're just making it worse."

Draco's expression shifted, his eyes flickering with frustration. "I'm doing the best I can, Potter. You think this is easy for me?"

Harry's heart pounded harder in his chest. They were standing in the middle of the hall, the sounds of the party fading away around them, but neither of them could ignore the truth that hung between them now. The pressure was mounting, and Harry knew that something had to give.

"We're not in control anymore," Harry whispered, his words heavy with the weight of everything they were pretending to be.

And as they stood there, staring at each other in the dimly lit hallway of Malfoy Manor, both of them felt the impending collapse of the fragile world they had built.