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From a very young age, Draco had learned to like everything just so.
He liked for his books to be arranged alphabetically by subject on his shelves. He liked his shirts to be sorted by sleeve length and then color, his pants by color, and his robes by occasion and then color. He liked his rooms to have a certain symmetry to them so that they felt balanced. Everything had it’s place.
Until Harry.
When Harry moved in, he turned everything upside down. Suddenly the home that Draco had kept fastidiously tidy was overrun by the other man’s presence. Throw blankets were kept literally everywhere now: draped across the backs of sofas, over the arms of chairs, at the foot of the bed, folded into piles under the coffee tables. Draco’s closet space was now overrun by bulky jumpers and band t-shirts with no semblance of organization. The bathroom was full of hair and skin care products, mixing with Draco’s already large supply. Books and trinkets were tucked onto the book shelves, leaving hardly any tactfully blank space. And the once tidy spice rack was now overflowing with spices and herbs that Harry used to cook fragrant, delicious food. (Just to name a few things.)
And if you’d told Draco that this would happen, that his tidy, organized space would become something else entirely, he wouldn’t have liked the thought.
In fact, he might not have ever invited Harry to move in with him in the first place.
Now, though, he was glad he had. Because he hadn’t realized that he was always cold and in need of a throw at every possible moment. Before Harry, he hadn’t realized just how empty and dull his closet was, nor could he have anticipated the thrill of slipping on one of Harry’s jumpers and letting the sleeves slide down over his fingers, leaving him cocooned and safe. He couldn’t have imagined the comfort he would feel when he cuddled Harry and rested his cheek on the worn, soft fabric of his t-shirts. The book shelves now held tokens of their lives together, reminding him of all the places they’d been and all of the places they had yet to go. And he hadn’t understood how dull and flavorless his food had been until Harry started cooking for him, introducing him to flavors that burst over his tongue and made his heart tap dance inside his chest.
He’d never imagined a life this full, never imagined being able to feel this much love, and joy, and comfort.
As always seemed to be the case, Harry was the exception to every rule Draco had ever made.
“Hey,” Harry murmured as he slumped into the kitchen, distracting Draco from his musings as he stared at the sink that was full of dishes.
“Hi,” he replied with a little tilt of the head, offering his temple for a customary kiss.
Harry obliged him and then turned his head slightly so he could catch his lips, “Morning,” he repeated before kissing him one more time. “I was thinking a carnitas scramble this morning,” he said as he made his way to the refrigerator and started covering the counter with ingredients. “I made that sour dough bread yesterday, that ought to make good toast.”
And he couldn’t help himself, the words just slipped out without his permission.
“I love you.”
Harry paused and looked at Draco over the refrigerator door.
“You just,” Draco shrugged helplessly, “You fill up all the empty spaces.”
Harry blinked at him and then moved around the refrigerator door, “I was supposed to say it first,” he said as he stepped up to Draco sitting on the stool at the counter and stood between his legs.
“Too slow,” Draco whispered.
“I love you,” Harry replied, trailing his nose over Draco’s jaw. “Very much,” he added. “And you fill up all the empty places for me, too.”