The Proposal

Harry and Draco's relationship had always been precarious, balancing between a façade of a perfect engagement and the undeniable tension that neither of them could ignore. But even as the days passed and their bond deepened, Harry could sense that the charade was growing more fragile by the minute. And that fragile web they had so carefully woven—of pretend love, of public appearances—was about to snap.

It happened at a Malfoy family gathering.

The grand dining hall at Malfoy Manor was as imposing and grandiose as ever, with its high ceilings and rows of gleaming silver candelabras casting a soft light on the long, polished table. Narcissa Malfoy sat at the head of the table, smiling serenely at her guests, her icy exterior softening only for the family. Lucius Malfoy, ever the calculating figure, surveyed the room with his usual gaze, though there was a slight edge of tension in his expression today. It was subtle, but Harry noticed.

And Draco—Draco was oddly quiet.

Harry sat beside him, trying to maintain the semblance of a loving fiancé. His hand rested on Draco's leg under the table, a small gesture meant to reassure them both. But his mind wasn't focused on the present. It was drifting back to their kiss in the library, the weight of their unspoken conversation pressing down on him. He could feel the tightness in his chest again, the knowledge that this wasn't sustainable—that they couldn't keep pretending forever.

"Harry, Draco," Lucius said, his voice cutting through the low murmur of conversation. His eyes were sharp, his tone laced with an undercurrent of something—skepticism, maybe? "I must admit, I'm impressed with how well you two have managed to keep up this... façade." His words were polite, but there was a knowing glint in his eyes. He'd been watching them too closely.

Harry froze, his throat tightening. He wasn't sure how much Lucius knew, but it was clear he wasn't buying the act anymore.

"Thank you, Lucius," Draco said smoothly, his usual coolness slipping back into place as he faced his father. "We're very dedicated to making this work."

"Dedicated," Lucius repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Hmm. Well, dedication is important." He leaned back slightly, his gaze flicking between Harry and Draco. "But it's also important to be truthful. To oneself and others."

The tension in the air shifted, thickening like a storm cloud ready to burst. Harry swallowed, his mind racing. Had Lucius found out? How could he have known?

Before Harry could react, Narcissa, who had been quietly observing the exchange, spoke up, her voice warm but laced with concern. "Lucius, dear, I think you're being a bit too harsh on them." She smiled at Harry, a smile that was kind yet distant. "They're young. They're figuring things out."

The tension eased slightly, but Harry's heart was still pounding. They couldn't keep dodging the truth. Not like this.

"Yes, we are," Harry said, forcing a smile, trying to sound confident. "But I'll be honest with you, Lucius, Draco." He glanced at Draco, his nerves settling only a little at the silent encouragement in Draco's eyes. "The truth is—we're not... exactly the couple everyone thinks we are."

Draco's head snapped toward him, his eyes wide. "Potter—"

But it was too late.

Lucius's gaze hardened, his voice dropping an octave. "What are you saying, Harry?"

"I'm saying that we—" Harry started, but the words got caught in his throat as the door to the dining room slammed open. Rita Skeeter, the ever-intrusive journalist, stood in the doorway, her green quill hovering above her notepad, a wide grin plastered on her face.

"What's this I hear?" Rita's voice was syrupy sweet, dripping with sarcasm. "The great engagement between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy is a sham? Oh, do tell me more!" She stepped into the room, as though she had every right to be there, and Harry's stomach twisted.

"Rita," Draco said sharply, his eyes narrowing. "Get out."

"Oh, I'll leave when I have the story, darling," Rita said, her eyes twinkling with malicious delight. "You see, the world is very interested in your little engagement. And now—" She turned to Lucius and Narcissa, her smile widening. "It seems I've stumbled upon quite the juicy tidbit. What a scandal this will be!"

Lucius Malfoy rose from his seat slowly, his expression unreadable. His voice was icy. "Rita, if you don't leave my home this instant, I'll make sure you regret it."

But Rita just laughed, unfazed. "I'm sure you'll try, Lucius. But a story like this? It's too good to pass up. Imagine the headlines!" She glanced back at Harry and Draco, clearly enjoying the discomfort she was causing. "The boy who lived... and the Malfoy heir. A forbidden love affair, secretive and dangerous... or just a lot of smoke and mirrors?"

Narcissa stood as well, a little more composed but equally firm. "Rita, if you have any respect for our family, you'll leave. Now."

Harry could feel the pressure building, the walls closing in on him. He shot a glance at Draco, who was seething beside him, his jaw clenched tight. The façade had cracked. The lie had been exposed—not by them, but by Rita's ever-watchful eyes.

Lucius turned toward Draco, his face unreadable, but Harry could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on them. This was it. The moment their world of lies crumbled.

"Draco, is this true?" Lucius's voice was low, controlled, but Harry could sense the underlying fury.

Draco's face was pale, but he didn't look away. "Yes," he said quietly, the words more honest than anything he'd said in a long time. "It's true."

Harry met Draco's gaze, and for a moment, everything felt suspended in time. They had crossed a line. There was no going back now.

Rita, sensing an opportunity to escalate, moved closer, her quill poised in the air. "Oh, this is going to be so good. The Malfoy family, involved in a scandal. How delicious!"

But Draco wasn't having it. He stood up sharply, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "No," he said, his voice surprisingly steady despite the storm raging in his eyes. "We're not doing this. Not now, and certainly not with you, Rita."

Harry stood too, his nerves fraying as the tension in the room reached its peak. "We'll handle this. Without your help," he said, his tone final, despite the chaos swirling around him.

Lucius was silent for a long moment, his gaze fixed on his son and Harry. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he turned to Rita. "Leave," he commanded.

The force in his voice left no room for argument, and Rita, with a huff of indignation, turned and stormed out of the room, muttering under her breath.

Draco looked at his father, his posture rigid. "It's not what you think," he said, but there was no conviction in his voice. It was the truth, but it was a truth that would never be easy to hear.

Lucius and Narcissa exchanged a glance, the silence between them thick. Finally, Lucius spoke, his voice a sharp edge. "I expect an explanation, Draco. This charade ends now."

Harry braced himself for the consequences. But he knew, deep down, that things could never go back to how they were.