The Proposal

The days after that conversation were nothing short of chaotic. Harry and Draco found themselves avoiding each other at every turn, a strange and tense quiet hanging between them. No more bickering or sarcastic jabs, but an all-consuming silence that seemed to weigh on both of them, even as they continued their charade for the public.

At work, Harry would catch glimpses of Draco, still looking effortlessly impeccable in his tailored suits, a constant reminder of their tangled mess of emotions. Draco, for his part, seemed content to pretend Harry didn't exist. But Harry knew better. He could feel the simmering tension every time Draco's gaze flickered his way, and every time they were forced to interact, the weight of their unspoken words became unbearable.

It was on a dreary Thursday afternoon, when the rain was beating against the windows of the Ministry, that everything finally came to a head.

Harry had just finished a meeting about the latest project to improve the wizarding community's relationship with magical creatures. It had been a tedious, uninspiring conversation, filled with the usual bureaucratic nonsense. He had been planning to go back to his office and bury himself in paperwork, but then he saw Draco. Standing in the atrium, his back to Harry, deep in conversation with someone Harry didn't recognize. The last thing Harry wanted was to get tangled up in another argument, but his feet carried him toward Draco before he could stop himself.

"Malfoy," Harry called, his voice slightly sharper than intended.

Draco stiffened at the sound of his name but didn't turn around immediately. Harry could see the way his jaw tightened, the way his whole body tensed as though preparing for a fight. It was that moment that Harry realized: they hadn't even begun to have the conversation they both needed. They were still stuck in this weird limbo of resentment and unspoken desire.

"Potter," Draco said, his voice clipped. "What do you want?"

Harry swallowed his irritation. He didn't want this to be another shouting match. Not today. He didn't have the energy for it.

"I need to talk to you," Harry said, his tone softer this time, though still edged with frustration. "About everything."

Draco finally turned around, his expression unreadable. His eyes flickered across Harry's face for a moment, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Harry saw something other than coldness in Draco's gaze. It was confusion, but there was something else too—something that made Harry's heart skip.

"About what, Potter?" Draco asked, voice tinged with annoyance. "Are you going to tell me how sorry you are again? How much of a mistake this whole thing has been?"

"No," Harry snapped, feeling the familiar burn of anger creeping back into his chest. "I'm not going to apologize for something I can't control. But I can't keep pretending, either."

Draco raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "Pretending? And what exactly are we pretending, Potter?"

"That this," Harry gestured between them, "is all just a joke. That we're just playing our parts in some ridiculous little game for everyone else's benefit. I'm tired of it, Draco. I can't keep doing this. Not when it feels like everything we've built is just a lie."

The words spilled out before Harry could stop them, and he felt the weight of them hit him harder than he expected. He hadn't meant to lay it all out like that, but the floodgates were open now, and he couldn't hold it back.

Draco didn't respond immediately. He stood there, his arms crossed over his chest, staring at Harry with that calculating look he always had. It felt like he was trying to figure out if Harry was lying or just completely out of his mind. The silence stretched on, heavy and thick.

Finally, Draco spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "You think it's that easy? That just because you're tired of pretending, I should stop too? You've got some nerve, Potter."

Harry clenched his fists at his sides. "You think this is easy for me? You think I don't care about all the lies and the pretending? You think I'm just doing this for the hell of it?" He took a step forward, the space between them shrinking. "I care about you, Draco. I care about us. And I can't do it anymore. I can't keep being the one who hides behind a mask."

Draco's eyes widened, the surprise evident in his face. But it didn't last long. His features quickly hardened again, and he looked away, running a hand through his platinum blond hair in frustration. "You're such a bloody mess, Potter. You've always been a mess." He took a step back, a sarcastic smirk pulling at his lips. "You're just a hero who doesn't know what he wants."

"Maybe I don't know," Harry snapped, his voice breaking. "Maybe I don't. But I do know this—I'm not going to keep lying to myself. I can't stand here pretending like this is all some big joke. Not when I'm so damn tired of pretending you don't mean something to me."

The words hung in the air, vibrating between them like a dangerous spell about to explode.

Draco's expression shifted. His eyes searched Harry's face, as if trying to decide whether he believed him. The coldness that usually resided in Draco's gaze was gone, replaced by something else entirely—something too vulnerable to be ignored.

Harry's heart raced, his mind reeling. He had said it now. He had put it all out there, and he was terrified. Terrified of how Draco would react, terrified of what it meant for them both.

"You think that makes everything okay, Potter?" Draco said quietly, his voice steady but his gaze still intense. "You think because you've said it out loud that everything will suddenly make sense?"

Harry's throat tightened. "I don't know what I think. But I know I can't keep pretending like I don't care about you."

For a long moment, Draco didn't speak. He just stood there, staring at Harry with that inscrutable look, as if considering his next move. Finally, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"Fine," Draco muttered, his voice tinged with resignation. "You want the truth? The truth is... I care too, Potter. And I'm fucking pissed about it."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He didn't know how to respond to the sudden vulnerability in Draco's words. But before he could speak, Draco turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Harry standing there, speechless and stunned.