Title: Fish Tank
Author: Ashe ()
Furniture: fish tank
Rating: PG-13, for the words 'shag', 'sex', 'naked', and 'commitment'
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
The characters and the world in which they live belong to JK Rowling and whomever she's sold herself to.
When Draco woke up, he was half-naked and shivering on the edge of the bed. There was no naked chest pressed against his back, no strong arm over his waist, and no legs tangling up with his. That was when he opened his eyes, turned, and realised that there was no Harry. He glanced at the clock: six thirty-three; Harry should be here, curled up with Draco in the centre of the bed, but maybe he had woken up early. Maybe he was waiting for in the shower, but Draco could hear no water running. Or, maybe Harry was in the kitchen making toast, and bacon, wearing nothing but an apron to protect his modesty from the popping grease, but Draco had a studio style flat and he could see that Harry wasn't in the kitchen.
It was then that Draco realised that he was in his flat, rather than Harry's, and he and Harry had not occupied the same bed at any point last night, or at any point for most of the previous day. They'd gotten into a fight that evening and Draco, as he often did, had stormed out of Harry's flat with the door slamming in his wake.
Draco had had to set the alarm for six that morning so Harry could get up in time to floo back to his flat and get to practise on time and Draco caught himself wishing Harry could stay around so they could shower together and have breakfast, and give one another encouraging kisses good-bye. So when Draco left the Ministry's Department of Experimental Potions that evening and went to Harry's flat, he had suggested that they move in together. After all, they practically lived together anyway, except they owned two separate flats.
Harry hadn't liked this idea very well. He didn't want to live with Draco because it would feel too much like they were married, and because they both had a lot of things that they didn't want to share. Besides, he had said that if they spent too much time together, they would drive each other mad. Besides, it was a lot easier not living with one another because whenever they annoyed one another, they could just go home without getting into a huge row over it. Besides, Harry liked to be alone, and didn't want Draco to be smothering him all the time. Or at least, that's what it sounded like to Draco.
Draco had gotten his feelings hurt at Harry's declarations, and, being Draco, instead of standing there and taking the disappointment like a man, ran straight to his flat to cry and drown his sorrows in alcohol. This would explain why he hadn't managed to get all the way naked before going to bed, and also his horrible hangover. Draco sighed, and got up to feed his fish.
Draco was very fond of his fish. There were sixteen of them, and they swam around in a muggle salt-water fish tank with the appropriate charms to keep it clean and the appropriate potions to keep the water the correct temperature, salt level, and pH balance. They were beautiful swimming around, flashing their bright colours, and were quiet and did not demand a lot of attention. They also listened well, and left no unpleasant messes on the carpet, and were, hence, easy to take care of.
Draco had got his first fish in a muggle pet store on the day of his first fight with Harry. They were fresh out of Hogwarts, Voldemort had been conquered, and Harry was going to sign a contract with the Falmouth Falcons. He had been offered a contract with seven teams, being the Boy Who Lived and the youngest Hogwarts Seeker in over a century, and there had been a celebration, which doubled as the press conference. Harry didn't take Draco, reasons being that his private life was his business, and if he wanted to announce whom he was shagging, he certainly wouldn't come out to the world via Witch Weekly.
Instead, Harry took Ginny Weasley, and Draco gave Harry a black eye, then apparated straight to Gringotts, where he exchanged a thousand gallons to pounds and went to muggle London, where he spent all of the money. Among his purchases were his fish tank, the polished ebony stones that rested at the bottom of it, and a large, homely red fish, which he called Gin Weasel.
Since then, it had become a tradition for Draco to fill his fish tank with his problems. He had a star fish called Fame, which he got when the paparazzi was following Harry, and Draco couldn't be seen with him in public. There was a translucent fish called Lucius, which he got on the anniversary of the day his father got the kiss. There was Lucky, bought at an exotic pet store when Draco was having a particularly unlucky day, Shaggy, bought when Harry had described their relationship to someone as `just shagging', and little school of four brightly coloured fish called L, O, V, and E, acquired the first time Draco said I love you, and Harry didn't say anything back.
The fish tank was also home to an anemone called Commitment, bought when Harry introduced Draco to someone as an `old schoolmate'. It also held four fish called Harry: an angelfish, a clown fish, a clam, and a moorish idol, each named on days when Draco found Harry particularly perfect, stupid, stubborn, or acting as he deserved to be worshipped. And there were three fish called Draco: the damsel fish (Harry had been treating him like a charity case, which needed saving), a dragonet (because it was his namesake, and Harry was away with quidditch, and he hadn't got laid in what seemed like weeks and he was distracting himself with shopping), and a star-eyed parrotfish (because Harry made him starry-eyed, and it caused their arguments to repeat themselves).
Then Draco's alarm went off, and startled him away from his staring�he'd been looking into his fish tank for half an hour. It was seven o'clock and time to get ready. Draco shed his (Harry's) Falcon's shirt, socks, and boxers and tossed them into the floor, leaving a trail from the fish tank to the bath, but before he turned the water on, there was a knock at the door. Draco scrabbled for his boxers and pulled them back on before walking over to it.
He didn't have to look through the peephole to know it was Harry, but he did anyway. He was standing there looking cool and kind of nervous, dressed in black sweats and his practise robes.
"Draco?" Harry knocked again. "I know you're in there; you don't leave for work until eight thirty."
Draco sighed, and opened the door. "Well," he said.
Harry was still standing in the doorway. "I haven't come to apologise," he said.
Draco snorted. "You never do."
Harry stepped forward, and shut the door behind him. Draco moved back. Harry moved forward again. "I've come to tell you," he said, "that I've been thinking about what we talked about yesterday."
"Oh?"
"And it would be hard."
"All relationships," (he emphasised the word, just in case Harry was in the mood to deny that a relationship is what they were having), "are hard."
Harry moved closer again, invading Draco's personal space. "Shhh," he said, "let me finish." He put his fingers on Draco's chin and tilted his head up to look at him, then brushed his fingers up Draco's jaw line and above his ear, tucking in some hair there. "If the press found out, I'd never get my name out of the papers, neither would you. Neither of us cooks very well, and you'd think me too messy. We'd have to redecorate, and you'd be annoyed that our china doesn't match. We'd have to get up an hour early in the mornings, because we'd want to have sex in the shower, and one of us still wouldn't have enough hot water to wash his hair. Sirius would go mad, thinking we're as good as married, and your mum would mourn the loss of any grandchildren she's hoping to have. You're spoiled, and demanding, and needy, and starving for attention. I'm stubborn, quick-tempered, and unexpressive. We can't read each other outside of the bedroom, and I don't know how you like your eggs."
Draco was scowling still for being called spoiled and needy, which he was, but he still felt it unfair that Harry failed to mention that he, himself, was scared like a little girl of anything emotional or any sort of spoken commitment, other than the announcement of exclusivity. He was about to open his mouth to tell Harry to get on with it, but Harry put his hand over his mouth again, then kissed him softly in the centre of his forehead. In Harry language, that meant `I love you', and Draco softened internally, but still spoke.
"What are you saying?" he asked, though the stirring in his stomach told him exactly what Harry was saying.
"I'm saying," Harry said, "that we're going to live together. And you'll probably need a bigger fish tank."