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Draco was a master of the dramatic exit.
When he and Harry fought (which they did. A lot.) he loved to storm out of the room. He’d slam every single door he walked through, get outside, and apparate a few blocks away to stew for a while.
It was all quite cathartic, really.
He was already anticipating the sweet relief of slamming the door, the satisfying way his entire body would feel the wood vibrating as the door banged shut, when Harry said, “Don’t leave.”
The comment took him a bit by surprise, he was planning on storming out but hadn’t even stood up yet.
“Draco, please don’t leave,” he repeated.
He stood up, spun on his heel and stomped out the door. Slamming first their bedroom door, then the front door on his way out.
But when he got to the end of the walk that led up to their house he realized that something didn’t feel quite right. There wasn’t any of the normal vitriol fueling the flame in his gut, slamming the doors hadn’t felt quite the same.
Hands on his hips, he turned and looked at their home for a long moment before stomping back inside.
He caught sight of Harry in the kitchen and stormed in, interrupting him as he made a cup of tea. “Why should you get to tell me not to leave?”
Harry sighed and started making a second cup of tea, presumably for Draco. “Draco, I love you,” he said as he spooned sugar into the cup, “But I can’t do this for the rest of my life.”
“Right,” he snapped, “Well if you thought that I was going to be all sunshine and ‘whatever you like, darling,’ you’re out of your damn min-”
“Draco,” he said, voice soft and calm, “That’s not what I’m saying.” He handed Draco a cup of tea and sat down across from him. “I don’t mind that we fight, I mind that we never get to have a resolution. It bothers me that when things get intense you just walk out of the conversation. I can’t always be sitting here, struggling, after you leave.”
He frowned.
“And I know you aren’t good at fighting-” Harry started.
“I’m excellent at fighting,” Draco inserted, crossing his arms over his chest. “I always win.”
“Walking out isn’t winning, Draco,” he said, shaking his head. “You may get the last word but it wasn’t a consensus we reached together so we just keep having the same fights.”
“We have been fighting since the beginning,” he said.
“Yes,” Harry agreed, “And I don’t mind fighting with you, I don’t mind disagreeing with you, but we have to find a better way.”
He pursed his lips.
Harry reached across the table and held his hand, “I love you, you know I do. But you aren’t good at fighting, you don’t even actually like fighting, it’s why you’re always leaving.”
Unfortunately what the other man was saying made sense. Draco huffed, “What do you propose?”
After a long moment of quiet, Harry said, “What if the next time we fight you’re allowed to leave the room but not the house?” he offered. “Like, you can go out to the kitchen and get your bearings and I will give you the space you need to process and stop feeling like you’re spiraling?”
Draco nodded slowly, “I’d be amenable to that.”
“Good,” Harry said, smiling at him, “Then once we’re both feeling calmer we come back and we try to have the conversation again. Maybe we’ll start fighting or maybe we won’t, but either way it’s better than just stewing over things.”
“Alright,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Yes,” he affirmed.
“Okay,” Harry said with a little smile. “Are you ready to talk about our fight earlier?”
He thought about it for a moment, his heart still felt like it was beating too fast, his hands still felt a little shaky; he shook his head.
“Okay,” Harry replied. “Do you want some space?”
“Could you-” he started before biting his lip.
“What?” Harry asked. “It’s fine, whatever it is.”
“Would you just sit here in the quiet with me?” he asked, fiddling with the handle of his tea cup.
His boyfriend smiled at him, “Yes, love.”
They sat together and Draco felt his heart slow, his mind stopped racing, he stopped feeling like he was ready to snap at any moment. “I feel better,” he murmured eventually.
“Good,” Harry said, brushing his thumb over Draco’s knuckles.
“One question, though.”
Harry nodded, “Go for it.”
“Does this mean we’re giving up make up sex?” he asked. “Because that isn’t really a concession I’m prepared to make.”
Harry burst out laughing, and leaned over the table to press his lips to Draco’s, “No. If you want we can go have make up sex now, then talk about our differing plans for Christmas and how to resolve them afterward.”
He grinned, “I would be more than amenable to that.”
“Good,” Harry said again, eyes twinkling as he rose from his chair, scooped Draco out of his and carried him off to the bedroom.
———-
This fic is inspired by the prompt but also by this clip of an interview Kristen Bell did, talking about her marriage.