The Proposal

The morning after the confrontation with Rita Skeeter was like stepping into a battlefield.

The air in the Malfoy Manor seemed to have shifted, and the tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife. Harry was unusually quiet during breakfast, poking at his food but not really tasting it. Across from him, Draco appeared just as distant, his usual smug expression replaced with an unreadable gaze. The weight of their conversation from the night before was still hanging in the air, unspoken but ever-present.

"You're both awfully quiet today," Narcissa remarked from her place at the table, her voice soft yet sharp with curiosity. "Is something the matter?"

Draco looked up, the flicker of a frown crossing his features before he quickly masked it. "No, Mother. Nothing's wrong."

Harry shot Draco a quick glance, wondering if his answer was meant more for himself than for Narcissa. The truth was, Harry didn't know where he stood anymore. They were stuck in a game they both seemed to be losing, their feelings tangled in a mess of denial and half-truths.

As the meal continued, the conversation drifted away from the tension between them, but Harry couldn't focus on anything. His mind was racing. Every time he tried to push aside the growing pressure, it crept back into his thoughts. The lie they were living was crumbling, and neither of them had the courage to face the truth.

Once breakfast was finished, Draco stood abruptly, pushing his chair back with a sharp scrape against the floor. "We've got a meeting with the Ministry today," he muttered, his voice clipped. "You should get ready, Potter. They're expecting us."

Harry nodded absently, already standing to follow. His body moved automatically, but his mind was far away. He had become increasingly aware that whatever was happening between him and Draco was no longer just a game—it was real, and it was terrifying.

The Ministry of Magic was buzzing with activity as usual, but Harry couldn't shake the feeling that the world around him was shifting. Draco seemed just as distracted as he was, his movements sharper than usual as they made their way through the maze of corridors.

When they arrived at the office, the atmosphere was even more tense than Harry had anticipated. They were ushered into a small conference room where a group of high-ranking Ministry officials were waiting to discuss the details of Draco's upcoming 'engagement' and his newfound position in the wizarding world.

Harry sat beside Draco, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as the meeting went on. His attention flickered between the papers in front of him and Draco, whose posture was rigid. He could tell Draco was trying to put on a front for the officials, but there was something off about the way he carried himself today. The easy arrogance, the confident Malfoy demeanor—everything felt like a mask slipping just a little too much.

As the discussion progressed, Harry found himself becoming more and more frustrated. The questions were pointed, some of them absurd, and the underlying insinuation that their engagement was purely for public appearances began to grate on his nerves. The officials weren't fooled—they knew there was something more to the story than Draco and Harry were willing to admit.

At one point, an older wizard—his name was Fenton, if Harry recalled correctly—leaned forward, his sharp eyes narrowing as he spoke. "Mr. Malfoy, I trust you understand the weight of this 'arrangement.' The public, the press... they will all be watching you closely. And if this engagement is, as some have suggested, a mere formality to keep the Malfoy name clean—well, that would raise some... concerns."

Harry could feel Draco stiffen beside him, his fingers tightening into a fist on the table. But it was Harry who spoke first, his voice cool and controlled. "I assure you, Mr. Fenton, that this engagement is real. There's no—" He paused, unsure of how to phrase it without sounding completely ridiculous. "No ulterior motive here."

Draco shot him a look, but Harry ignored it. He wasn't in the mood for games anymore.

Fenton raised an eyebrow but didn't press the matter further. "Very well," he said with a measured nod. "Just keep in mind the importance of keeping appearances intact, gentlemen. The wizarding world doesn't take kindly to deception."

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur of formalities, but Harry could feel the weight of Fenton's words gnawing at him. Their lie was becoming more fragile with each passing day. And no matter how hard they tried to keep up the charade, they both knew the truth was waiting just beneath the surface, ready to spill out at the wrong moment.

Later that afternoon, Harry found himself alone in one of the Ministry's quieter hallways, pacing back and forth. His mind was in turmoil, his thoughts a chaotic mess of frustration, confusion, and fear. The lie they'd been living felt like it was choking him, the walls closing in on him with each passing day.

He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Draco approaching until he was standing right behind him.

"Potter," Draco said, his voice low and laced with something that Harry couldn't quite place.

Harry spun around to face him, his heart racing. "What?" he snapped, his patience thinning.

Draco took a step closer, his gaze intense, almost searching. "What are we doing, Harry?" His voice was softer now, no longer the sharp tone Harry had come to expect. "I can't keep pretending this is nothing. I can't keep pretending we're just playing at something that isn't real."

The words hit Harry harder than he expected. He had been so focused on keeping the lie intact that he hadn't realized how much it was starting to affect Draco too.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice steady, even though his chest felt tight. "You were the one who insisted we keep up this act."

"I know," Draco replied quickly. "But that doesn't mean I'm okay with it anymore. I've been lying to myself, and I've been lying to you." His eyes softened, a rare vulnerability flickering in his gaze. "I can't do this anymore, Harry. I'm starting to hate myself for it."

Harry swallowed hard. He had been holding on to the lie as a shield, but now, standing in front of Draco, he could feel it slipping away. The truth was starting to push its way to the surface, and neither of them was ready for it.

"Then what are we supposed to do, Draco?" Harry whispered, his voice hoarse. "How do we fix this?"

Draco's eyes held his for a long moment, and Harry swore he could see something flicker there. Something real. But before he could say anything else, the door to the conference room creaked open, and their moment was abruptly interrupted.

Narcissa stood in the doorway, a polite smile on her face. "Draco, Harry, are you two coming back inside? Your presence is requested."

Neither of them moved for a long moment. The silence was thick, filled with the weight of everything they had yet to say.

Finally, Draco turned to Harry and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "We'll be there in a moment."

Narcissa's smile faltered slightly, but she didn't question it. "Very well."

As she left, Harry's gaze locked with Draco's once again. There was something there now—something more than just the lie they'd been living. It was raw, uncertain, but undeniably real.

And for the first time in days, Harry didn't know what would come next. But he knew one thing for sure—they couldn't keep pretending forever.