The morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a subdued glow over the room. Dishevelled and forlorn, Harry lay sprawled across his bed, the covers tangled around his naked form. His tousled hair, usually a vibrant mess of unruly black locks, now appeared more chaotic than ever, mirroring his soul's turmoil.

The pounding in Harry's head matched the relentless throbbing of his emotions. A hangover clung to him like a shadow, a cruel reminder of his choices the night before. His mind, clouded by the haze of alcohol, replayed the events in vivid flashes, each memory laced with regret.

The taste of fire whiskey still lingered on his tongue, a bitter reminder of the reckless abandon that had led him astray. The memory of Viktor's lips, tantalisingly close yet never quite meeting his own, taunted him mercilessly. It was a stolen moment, a forbidden desire that had shattered his already fragile marriage.

Draco, his once beloved husband, now seemed a distant memory. The echoes of their heated arguments and the whispered promises of forever faded into the background, drowned out by the overwhelming weight of treachery. Harry's psyche felt heavy, burdened by the realisation that his actions had caused irreparable damage.

In the silence of the room, Harry's breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. The tears that threatened to spill over clung to his lashes as if unsure whether to reveal his vulnerability to the world. His hands clenched the sheets, fingers digging into the fabric as if searching for an anchor amidst the storm of emotions.

The thought of facing the outside world, of donning the robes of an Auror and pretending that everything was normal, filled him with a profound sense of dread. How could he possibly continue as if nothing had changed? The weight of his responsibilities felt suffocating, an unbearable burden on his already shattered spirit.

Self-pity wrapped around him like a suffocating cloak, engulfing him in its dark embrace. The room, once a sanctuary, now seemed a prison of his own making. The walls, adorned with photographs of happier times, now mocked him with their bright smiles, constantly reminding him of what had been lost.

Harry's eyes, usually bright with determination, now held a dull, defeated gaze. His once radiant spirit, renowned for its resilience, now flickered like a dying flame. In this moment of despair, Harry knew he would need to face the day lest he waste away in bed forever.

As Harry slowly dragged himself out of bed, his legs felt like unsteady stilts beneath him. Each step down the curved stairs was a treacherous journey, and with a misstep, he felt a sharp pain shoot through his backside as he tumbled down a few steps. Cursing under his breath, he winced as he reached the bottom, his body aching in protest.

With a heavy sigh, Harry made his way to the kitchen, his bare feet padding against the cold tile floor. The flickering light from the refrigerator beckoned to him, promising relief in the form of orange juice. His hand trembled as he grabbed the carton, betraying the turmoil coursing through his veins.

Raising the container to his lips, Harry hesitated momentarily, a gnawing unease churning in his stomach. But with a desperate thirst for anything to dull the ache in his guts, he took a long swig. The chilled juice cascaded down his throat, momentarily soothing his raw nerves. As quickly as the relief came, it vanished. A sudden wave of nausea overcame him, the acidic tang of alcohol mixing with the citrus sweetness of the juice. Harry stumbled towards the sink, barely reaching it before his body convulsed in violent retching.

As he emptied the contents of his stomach into the sink, he felt a gentle presence beside him. Hermione, her face etched with concern, moved with grace and purpose. She draped a soft blanket around his naked form, offering a small measure of comfort amidst the chaos.

Harry's body trembled as he dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, mixing with the remnants of his sorrow and regret. In that moment of vulnerability, Hermione's voice, filled with compassion and understanding, reached his ears.

"Harry," she whispered, her voice soothing yet firm, "I know this pain feels unbearable right now. But remember, you are not alone. Draco loves you, and I believe there is still hope for your relationship. I'll do everything I can to help mend what has been broken."

Her words were a balm to his wounded soul, a glimmer of light in the darkness threatening to consume him. Harry clung to her kindness, his heart aching with gratitude for her unwavering support.

As he continued to sob, Hermione remained by his side, her presence a steady anchor in the storm. She spoke of forgiveness, second chances, and the enduring strength she knew he possessed.

As Harry's tears flowed unchecked, Hermione's patience began to wane. Her gentle expression hardened, and her voice took on a firm tone.

"Harry," she said, her voice tinged with frustration, "I understand you're hurting, but you can't let this consume you. You are so much more than this one moment of heartbreak. You have a life, a career, and friends who care for you deeply."

Harry sniffled, looking up at Hermione with bloodshot eyes. "But Draco was everything to me, Hermione. I can't imagine my life without him."

Hermione sighed, her tone a steady rhythm of sympathy and exasperation. "I know it feels that way right now, Harry. But you can't base your entire happiness on one person. You are a strong and capable individual with much to offer the world."

She paused momentarily, gathering her thoughts before continuing, her words laced with determination. "Think about all the good things in your life, Harry. You've accomplished so much. You've saved the wizarding world, have a fulfilling career as an Auror, and have friends who love and support you unconditionally."

Harry's shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on the floor. Slowly, he began to realise the truth in Hermione's words. He had allowed his world to revolve solely around Draco, neglecting the other aspects of his life that brought him joy and purpose.

With a resigned nod, Harry wiped away his tears and stood up, his body feeling heavy with fatigue. "What should I do, Hermione? How do I move forward?"

Hermione's eyes softened, a glimmer of hope shining through. "Start by taking care of yourself, Harry. Shower, get dressed, and go to work. Engage in the things that once brought you fulfilment. Surround yourself with friends who lift you up and remind you of your worth."

She walked over to the sink, waving her wand to clean up the remnants of Harry's sickness gently. "While at work, try to focus on your duties as an Auror. Allow yourself to be immersed in the tasks at hand, even if it's just for a little while. Healing takes time, but taking steps forward will help you find your way."

Harry nodded, a flicker of determination returning to his eyes. He knew that the road to recovery would be long and arduous, but with Hermione's guidance and the support of his friends, he knew he could do it. He had to, after all.

Harry, his body still reeling from the effects of the previous night, weaved his way through the bustling streets. The throngs of people seemed to close in around him, their hurried footsteps echoing in his ears as if mocking his sluggish movements. His head throbbed mercilessly as if each step sent shocks of pain reverberating through his body.

Hermione had given him a hangover potion, but even its effects could only do so much to alleviate the physical and emotional toll of his choices. He had thought that walking to work would clear his mind, but the heavy weight of regret clung to him like a suffocating fog.

After what felt like an eternity, Harry finally reached the Ministry of Magic. Standing in front of the toilet cubicle, he quickly closed the door before flushing himself down the swirling vortex of the staff entrance. He took a deep breath, hoping to find the strength to face the day ahead, and willed his stomach to settle down. My magicals had to have such ridiculous forms of travel still baffled him to this day. Straightening his robes, he ambled through the bustling grand entrance hall and held back a choking cough as he looked ahead. There, amidst a group of his colleagues, stood Draco, his platinum blond hair glinted under the soft glow of the magical lights, his elegant posture radiating confidence and poise. Harry's breath caught in his throat, the sight of Draco sending a fresh wave of pain crashing over him.

Swiftly, Harry averted his gaze and hurried toward the lifts, the pressing crowd forcing him to squeeze in amongst the sea of bodies. The air was thick with a cacophony of voices, the sound of shuffling feet, and the occasional sigh of resignation.

As the lift doors closed, Harry found himself surrounded by strangers, the claustrophobia of the confined space only adding to his unease. The lift jolted into motion, ascending through the levels with a magical hum. Harry's mind raced, his thoughts a tangled mess of regret and longing.

The ride seemed interminable, the seconds stretching into eternity. Finally, the lift doors opened, and Harry stepped out into the vast expanse of the Ministry's main halls. The marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of enchanted torches, casting flickering shadows that danced along the walls.

His eyes darted around, searching for any sign of Draco, as he couldn't bear to face him, not now. Determined to avoid further heartache, Harry quickened his pace, weaving through the labyrinthine halls, his footsteps echoing in the silence.

The Ministry buzzed with activity, witches and wizards in their distinctive robes darting from one department to another. As Harry half ran to the Auror offices, the air crackled with a sense of urgency. His heart pounded in his chest as he darted past his colleagues, offering hurried greetings and avoiding any unnecessary eye contact. He couldn't bear the thought of engaging in small talk, not when his emotions were still raw, and his head still clouded.

Finally, he reached the familiar door of his office, a sanctuary that had once provided solace and purpose. Slamming the door shut behind him, Harry leaned heavily against the cool wood, closing his eyes in a desperate attempt to find a moment of respite from the turmoil within.

The silence was shattered as Luna Lovegood, his eccentric and ever-optimistic partner, greeted him with her signature dreamy voice. "Good morning, Harry. How was your evening? Did you encounter any Nargles or Crumple-Horned Snorkacks?"

Startled by her presence, Harry straightened up, his eyes opening to meet Luna's gentle gaze. He tried to muster a smile, but it wavered uncertainly on his lips. "Morning, Luna. No Nargles or Snorkacks, I'm afraid. Just... a rough night."

Luna's eyes widened, her expression shifting from curiosity to concern. She moved closer, her voice a soft whisper. "Oh, Harry, I'm sorry to hear that. Is there anything I can do? I have a lovely collection of Dirigible Plums in my desk drawer. They're quite good at warding off negative energies."

Harry managed a weak chuckle, grateful for Luna's unique perspective on the world. "Thank you, Luna. I appreciate it. But I think I just need some time to sort things out." She nodded, her ethereal presence a comforting presence in the room. "Of course, Harry. Just remember, even in the darkest times, there is always a glimmer of light. You're stronger than you think."

With those words, Luna drifted away, leaving Harry to his thoughts. He took a deep breath, pushing himself off the door and making his way to his desk. The cluttered surface was familiar, filled with documents, memos, and scattered quills. As Harry sank into his chair, he glanced at the framed photograph of himself and Draco, their smiles dancing across their faces in happier times. A pang of sadness gripped his heart, but he forced himself to look away, focusing on the tasks at hand.

As Harry settled into his work, a thunderous crash abruptly shattered the familiar calm. Startled, he looked up to see a fiery envelope hurtling towards him. His heart sank as he recognised the telltale signs of a Howler.

The envelope burst open, unleashing a furious torrent of sound. Kingsley Shacklebolt's booming voice filled the room, his words echoing with authority. "Potter! Report to my office immediately! No delays, no excuses!"

The force of Kingsley's anger reverberated through Harry, his mind racing to comprehend the urgency behind the summons. Panic began to bubble within him, threatening to consume his already fragile state.

In the chaos that ensued, Luna, ever the embodiment of serendipity, accidentally spilt her tea down her robes. She let out a startled laugh, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, dear. It seems my tea has taken a liking to my attire. How peculiar!"

Harry, momentarily distracted from his own troubles, couldn't help but smile at Luna's eccentric response. "Luna, you always manage to find humour in the most unexpected moments."

She patted her damp robes, unfazed by the mishap. "Life is like a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, Harry. Full of surprises and peculiarities. But we must keep moving forward, no matter how odd the path may seem."

With her offbeat advice lingering in his mind, Harry gathered his thoughts and stood up, ready to face whatever awaited him in Kingsley's office. He glanced at Luna, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you, Luna. I appreciate your support. I'll see you later."

Luna gave him a whimsical wave, her voice filled with encouragement. "Don't forget, Harry, you're stronger than you think. Embrace the peculiarities, and may the Nargles be ever in your favour!"

Her words, though unconventional, resonated deep within Harry's weary soul. With a newfound determination, he left his office and made his way towards Kingsley's office, the weight of the Howler's urgency propelling him forward.

As he navigated the winding corridors of the Ministry, Harry couldn't help but reflect on Luna's words. Life was indeed filled with surprises, both delightful and challenging. And at that moment, he made a silent promise to himself - to face the challenges head-on, find strength in the peculiarities, and embrace the journey ahead.

As Harry approached Shacklebolt's office, his heart pounded, nerves mingling with the remnants of Luna's offbeat advice. Just as he raised his hand to knock, the door swung open of its own accord, revealing a stern-faced Kingsley Shacklebolt. The powerful aura emanating from his boss made Harry's resolve waver momentarily.

"Potter, enter and close the door behind you," Kingsley barked, his voice carrying a weight of authority that was hard to ignore. His piercing gaze bore into Harry, the unspoken expectation clear.

Rolling his eyes at the theatrics, Harry complied, stepping into the office and shutting the door firmly behind him. The room was dimly lit, shadows dancing on the walls, adding to the sense of intimidation.

Kingsley flicked his wand without a word, summoning a copy of the Daily Prophet. With a swift motion, he sent it flying towards Harry, who caught it instinctively. His heart sank as he read the salacious headline, accompanied by a compromising picture of him and Viktor, their faces close, their body language unmistakably flirtatious.

"What in Merlin's name were you playing at, Potter?" Kingsley's voice thundered through the room, his voice a commanding force. "This is a disaster, a blatant disregard for the responsibility you hold as an Auror and as the face of this department!"

Harry's mind raced, but he refused to let the overwhelming presence of his boss intimidate him. He took a deep breath, meeting Kingsley's gaze head-on, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "Sir, I assure you, nothing is going on between me and Viktor. That picture is misleading, taken out of context. It's a setup."

Kingsley's eyebrows raised, his expression sceptical. "A setup, you say? Do you have any proof to back up this claim? The public's trust in the Ministry is at stake, Potter. We cannot afford scandals like this."

Harry's determination intensified as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small vial. "Felix Felicis. I had a feeling something like this might happen. I took it last night and have a solid lead on who is responsible."

Kingsley's eyes narrowed, his scepticism slowly fading as he took the vial from Harry's outstretched hand. He studied it for a moment before nodding, a trace of respect flickering in his gaze. "Very well, Potter."

As Kingsley inspected the vial of Felix Felicis, Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him. It seemed his boss was buying his fabricated explanation, giving him a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos. However, any semblance of respite quickly faded as Kingsley's stern gaze returned.

"Potter, do not think for a moment that this absolves you of your recent failures," Kingsley chastised, his voice firm and unwavering. "You have missed your last three report deadlines, and your reckless decision to attend a charity Seekers game has only fueled the fire."

Harry's fists clenched at his sides, fury raging within him. He knew he had made mistakes, but to be scolded like a wayward child in the face of everything else was infuriating. Yet, he swallowed his anger, focusing on the task at hand.

"I understand, Sir," Harry replied through gritted teeth, his voice laced with determination. "I will follow up on my lead, find out who took that picture, and bring you the proof by the end of the week. You won't be disappointed."

Kingsley's gaze hardened, his voice carrying a final warning. "You better, Potter, and if you fail to deliver, you might as well pack up your things and take up a position as the caretaker at Hogwarts."

Harry nodded, his jaw set, his resolve unwavering. As he left Kingsley's office, his fury burned brighter, fueling his determination to uncover the truth. He scoffed at the ridiculous headline, "Boy Who Lived Seeks Extramarital Comfort from Hunky Krum?". The audacity of the tabloids never ceased to amaze him.

As he made his way through the Ministry corridors, Harry's mind raced, formulating a plan to uncover the identity of the individual behind the setup. He would need to be discreet, thorough, and relentless. The truth would prevail, and he would clear his name.

With each step, Harry's anger transformed into a steely resolve. He would not let this scandal define him. He would find the proof, expose the truth, and restore his reputation. The journey ahead would be challenging, but he was ready to face it head-on, guided by Luna's words and fueled by his own unwavering determination.

Harry returned to his office, determined to get to the bottom of the setup. He approached Luna, who was staring dreamily into space, seemingly oblivious to his presence.

"Luna, we need to pull on our informants and find out who took that picture," Harry said, his voice firm and focused, as he looked at Luna, who had the Prophet in her delicate hands.

Luna's gaze shifted towards Harry, a dreamy smile spreading across her face. "Oh, Harry, you and Viktor make such a handsome couple. I just knew there was something special between you two."

Harry's frustration grew, and he shook his head impatiently. "Luna, focus! We need to find out who took that picture, remember? This is serious."

Luna blinked, her dreamy expression slowly fading as his words registered. "Right, sorry, Harry. I'll speak with my father. The photographer would likely have tried to sell the photo to the Quibbler too. We might find some leads there."

Harry nodded, grateful for Luna's cooperation. He slumped into his desk chair, feeling the weight of the situation bearing down on him. Just as he was about to delve into his thoughts, he noticed a golden envelope resting on his desk. Curiosity piqued, he picked up the envelope and carefully opened it. Inside was a letter written in delicate script. As he read its contents, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Harry, what is it?" Luna asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

"It's an invitation," Harry replied his tone a mixture of excitement and disbelief. "I've been invited to a private gathering tonight. It seems someone wants to meet with me and discuss the picture."

Luna's eyes sparkled with intrigue. "How mysterious! Do you think it's the person responsible for the setup?"

Harry nodded a determined glint in his eyes. "I have a feeling it might be. Luna, we need to find out who sent this invitation and their motives. This could be our chance to uncover the truth."

Luna smiled, her usual ethereal calm returning. "I'll help you, Harry. Together, we'll get to the bottom of this."

With Luna by his side, Harry felt a renewed sense of purpose. The path ahead was still uncertain, but he was determined to face whatever challenges lay in his way. The truth awaited, and he was ready to seek it out, no matter the cost.

Harry sat in the canteen at the Ministry, absentmindedly poking at his shepherd's pie. He couldn't shake the restlessness that had been building within him since the morning. The desire for action, for a duel or a confrontation with some nameless dark magical, was itching beneath his skin.

Sitting across from him, Luna lazily stirred her tea as she read the paper, seemingly undisturbed by Harry's restlessness. He envied her ability to find calm in the mundane. As he contemplated his next move, Ron plopped down next to him, making several jokes about Harry and Viktor.

Harry chuckled at Ron's light-hearted teasing, appreciating the distraction from his own thoughts. Before he could respond, Ron playfully punched him on the arm, causing Harry's food to jiggle on his plate.

"Oi, Harry! You gonna finish that?" Ron asked, his eyes already darting towards Harry's shepherd's pie.

Harry, not particularly hungry anymore, shrugged and was about to offer it to Ron when his friend swiftly pulled the plate closer and started devouring the food like an animal, talking with a full mouth.

"You won't believe what happened this morning," Ron said between bites. "This mad wizard was running down Oxford Street, hexing muggles left and right. It was chaos!"

Curiosity piqued, Luna chimed in, her dreamy voice breaking the silence. "What happened to the wizard, Ron?"

As Ron continued to chew and swallow his food, he recounted the events of the morning, relishing in the excitement of the tale. Harry's annoyance grew, his need for action intensifying as he listened to his friends' banter.

Unable to bear it any longer, Harry abruptly stood up, leaving Ron and Luna to their conversation. He needed something more than idle chatter and tales of wizarding mischief. He needed a purpose, a mission to focus on.

Ignoring the lingering sounds of their laughter behind him, Harry walked away, his determination pushing him forward. He would find the truth behind the setup, no matter what it took. The allure of action and the drive to clear his name burned within him, fueling his resolve to uncover the truth.

Harry sat at his desk, deep in thought, when Luna reentered the office, her dreamy demeanour contrasting with the difficult situation at hand. She absentmindedly dug her finger into a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans, seemingly unfazed by the gravity of their conversation.

"Luna, what did you find out?" Harry asked, his voice tinged with urgency.

Luna casually popped a bean into her mouth before responding. "Theodore Knott contacted my father, offering a racy picture of the Chosen One in exchange for a thousand galleons. Isn't he close with your husband?"

Harry's eyes narrowed with fury. Theodore Knott was a close friend of Draco, who he had dated at Hogwarts, and it seemed clear that Draco had a hand in this setup. But doubts crept into his mind - would Draco really want to hurt him intentionally? The complexity of their relationship made it difficult to discern the truth.

"Luna, I need to confront Theodore Knott," Harry said, his voice firm. "But I should go alone. Draco may be innocent in all of this, and I don't want to jump to conclusions."

Luna nodded, her serene expression unwavering. "Be careful, Harry. The Department of Mysteries can be a treacherous place."

Harry stood up, his resolve solidifying. "I will, Luna. Thank you for your help. I'll find out the truth, no matter what."

With that, Harry left the office, his mind focused on the task at hand. The Department of Mysteries awaited, its secrets and dangers ready to challenge him. But Harry was determined to uncover the truth and clear his name. The path ahead was uncertain, but he would face it alone, relying on his instincts and bravery to guide him.

Harry crouched behind a stack of crates, hidden in the shadows, as he listened to the conversation unfolding before him. The sound of two male voices reached his ears, and as he strained to hear, he recognised one of them as Draco's. His heart raced with a mixture of anticipation and anger.

As he crept closer, the tension in the air grew palpable. Draco's voice was filled with frustration. His words rushed and slightly panicked. "I can't believe you are so stupid, Theo! Selling that picture to the Prophet was a terrible mistake!"

Theodore's voice, smooth and seductive, cut through the air. "But Draco, my love, I did it all for you. I thought it would make you realise how much you miss me and need me."

Draco's annoyance was evident in his tone. "Stop it, Theo. I told you, it's over between us. I don't want your advances or your manipulations."

Theodore chuckled, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "Oh, Draco, you know I would do anything to get you back. And besides, I was hired by someone else to take that picture. It wasn't just about you, my love."

Harry's anger surged within him, his grip on his wand tightening. He couldn't stand hearing Theo flirt and touch Draco, exploiting their past relationship for his own gain. He had to intervene to protect Draco from further harm.

But before he could make his move, the conversation took a sudden turn, filling the air with a chilling revelation. "You know, Draco, the person who hired me, was ever so keen about framing the Chosen One. They said it would be a bonus if they could tarnish his reputation permanently ."

Harry's breath caught in his throat. His anger shifted, now directed towards the unknown person who was using Theo and Draco as pawns in their twisted game.

As the tension mounted, Harry realised that he needed more information before confronting Draco. He had to discover the identity of this manipulative puppet master and put an end to their dangerous machinations.

With renewed determination, Harry stealthily retreated from his hiding spot, his mind racing with plans and possibilities. The truth was within his grasp, and he would stop at nothing to uncover it, protect Draco, and clear his own name.

Harry quickly crouched behind the wall, his heart pounding as he heard Draco and Theodore approaching. He strained, once again, to listen to their conversation, his anger simmering beneath the surface.

Theodore's voice was laced with the same awful seductive tone as he continued to flirt with Draco, his advances becoming more persistent. "Draco, my love, you know I can give you everything you desire. I'll treat you like the Prince you are, unlike your Potter and your lacklustre sex life. You deserve someone who can truly satisfy you."

Draco's voice remained firm, his response unwavering. "Theo, I've told you countless times I still love Harry. I have no interest in a relationship with you or anyone else. Please, stop this."

Theodore's annoyance grew, evident in his tone as he lightly pushed Draco against the wall, invading his personal space. "You're wasting your time, Draco. Potter will never love you like I can. He's too wrapped up in his own hero complex to appreciate you truly. You deserve better."

Harry's fists clenched tightly, his nails digging into his palm. The urge to reveal himself and protect Draco grew stronger, but he knew he had to remain hidden, gathering valuable information before making his move.

Draco pushed Theodore off him, his voice tinged with frustration. "I don't need your pity or your twisted version of affection, Theo. I know where my heart lies, and it's with Harry. Our relationship may be over, but we will always love each other, and that's what matters."

Theodore's expression turned sour, his words dripping with venom. "Love? Please, Draco. It's clear that Potter doesn't truly care about you. He's just using you, and you're too blind to see it. You deserve to be with someone who will appreciate you properly."

Harry's anger surged within him, but he knew he had to stay hidden, biting his tongue as Theodore continued to make snide comments about his and Draco's relationship. Each word fueled Harry's determination to protect Draco, to prove their love was genuine and unwavering.

As Draco brushed off Theodore's insults and made it clear that he had no interest in a relationship with him, Harry realised the depth of Draco's loyalty and love. It only strengthened his resolve to uncover the truth and put an end to the manipulation that threatened to tear them apart forever.

Harry silently planned his next move, his mind racing. He would confront Theodore, gather evidence, clear his name and win back Draco.

Harry's fury surged to new heights as he heard Theodore's hurtful taunts. His grip on his wand tightened harder, his knuckles turning white. He had to fight the urge to reveal himself and put an end to this torment.

Theodore's voice dripped maliciously as he continued his verbal assault on Draco. "Draco, let's be honest. Potter clearly has a thing for manly men, like that famous seeker Viktor Krum. I bet he's already bending over for him. You, my dear, can never match up to someone like Krum. You should be with someone on your own level."

Draco's face contorted with anger and hurt, but he maintained his composure. "Enough, Theo. I won't let you belittle me or our relationship. Harry loves me for who I am, and I won't let your petty jealousy tear apart what little we have left of our relationship."

Harry's chest burned with rage. He knew Draco was right, but he couldn't bear to hear his love being demeaned in such a way. Theo's words were designed to hurt, to undermine their relationship and break Draco's spirit.

As Theo and Draco moved past, Harry observed them, their voices fading into the distance. He knew he had to proceed with caution to uncover the truth behind this manipulation and protect Draco from further harm; otherwise, he would have hexed Theodore fucking Knott into the next century right then and there.

Harry retreated further into the shadows, his mind racing with plans. He would unmask the puppet master behind all of this, expose their twisted game, and prove to Draco that their love was unbreakable.

As he disappeared into the darkness, Harry vowed to himself that he would not let Theo's words or anyone else's doubts shake his belief in their love. He would fight for Draco and their future together and not rest until justice was served.