The way you move is like a full on rainstorm

And I'm a house of cards

You're the kinda reckless that should send me running

But I kinda know I won't get far

Grimmauld Place looks as empty and unwelcoming as ever, it could even seem to be abandoned. True, every room had been cleaned, disinfected and made as habitable as it could be, and Harry Potter was living there with none other than Draco Malfoy. Still, the air of the house was far from being warm.

Under the dim light entering from the hidden windows in his room, Draco wrote the last words in the letter for his mother, the one he sent every Wednesday, telling her that everything was okay, that Potter was working hard trying to win the war, and that soon it would all be over. Not that he believed those hopeful empty words himself, though. Maybe it was just his way of escaping from the harsh reality of his daily life, that had been reduced to cleaning, cooking and researching useful information for the Order. After stretching his arms and legs, Draco put the letter in a plain and simple envelope and left his room with the intention of giving the letter to Warwick, the owl he bought so he wouldn't have to use one of Malfoy family's recognizable birds.

While he made his way up the stairs, his head down, he encountered a pair of dirty sneakers.

"Are you taking the letter to Warwick?" Potter asked, although Draco thought he knew the answer already.

He nodded before looking up to meet his eyes. Potter was definitely tired, and Draco wondered how long did the meeting of the Order had lasted last night. And just how much progress did they actually make.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, with true intentions of helping.

"Yes," Potter answered after a long sigh.

Draco was really willing to help Potter win the war. Were it not for Potter's testimonial during the trial, the Wizengamot would have sentenced both him and his father to Azkaban for life. So he was doomed to help the wannabe-hero every time the opportunity rose. However, Draco also wanted to be useful to the Order —to Harry— and end the war. "Are you sure?" Draco insisted. "I have a few potions that could-"

"I'm fine!" Potter shouted exasperated.

Talking with Potter without getting him angry had always been difficult for Draco, especially considering the history they had had together, so he was kind of used to see him explode like that. Draco dropped his gaze back to the floor, feeling useless. Not that he would ever let Potter know he was upset about that (or anything at all), of course. He made sure he was always wearing his indifference mask when he was around him. He nodded and looked up at Potter again.

"All right," he said.

His voice trembled. No, he was not used to see Potter explode yet.

"I'm sorry," Potter sighed. "I'm a little stressed, I guess"

Draco should not be dealing with Potter, he told himself not long ago. Being on his side didn't mean he had to be by his side. Potter was exactly the kind of person he didn't bear. Reckless, with a hero complex and stubborn. Yet, Draco couldn't seem to be able to get away from him as hard as he tried. And he realized, along with the discovery that he was pretty much in love with the git, that he wasn't really trying to.

And you stood there in front of me just

Close enough to touch

Close enough to hope you couldn't see

What I was thinking of

Potter took a step forward and addressed Draco in a much calmer voice this time.

"I'm sorry."

Draco wasn't expecting Potter to ruffle his hair, or to put a hand on his shoulder to comfort him, but he wished he would. They were so close, he noticed. If he raised his hand just a few inches, he could touch Potter's. Of course he didn't. He could just set his mask up again and hope that Potter couldn't read his mind.

Drop everything nowMeet me in the pouring rainKiss me on the sidewalkTake away the pain

'Cause I see, sparks fly whenever you smileGet me with those green eyes, babyAs the lights go downGive me something that'll haunt me when you're not around

'Cause I see, sparks fly whenever you smile

That night, Draco dreamt something similar to what he had been dreaming of for the last month. This time, he was outside Malfoy Manor, in one of its many gardens, sitting in a bench protected from the storm that raged from the sky by a makeshift roof. Potter was sitting next to him, drawing lazy patterns in Draco's back with his fingers, while Draco closed his eyes and listened to the water falling.

Potter slid his hand through Draco's arm until he reached his hand, and took it while he stood up. He smiled and Draco could have sworn he saw sparks flying. Potter outstretched his other hand so that Draco could grab it with his free one, and together they walked away from their safe place, into the storm. The water fell surprisingly gently on Draco's body, considering they were in the middle of a storm. Potter kept smiling while he brought together their foreheads, his incredibly green eyes making Draco see even more sparks.

It was Draco's turn to smile when he saw Potter's eyes drifting from his eyes to his mouth. Draco couldn't stop smiling when Potter leaned in to kiss him. Draco parted his lips losing his smile, and now it was Potter who grinned into the kiss. An open-mouth kiss, that was all Draco needed to erase any pain or concern he might have had. Potter placed his hands in Draco's waist and pressed their hips together, while Draco ran his fingers through black, soaked hair.

Draco woke up slowly, used to feeling disappointed when he realized it was just a dream.

My mind forgets to remind me

You're a bad idea

You touch me once and it's really something

You find I'm even better than you

Imagined I would be

It had been four months since he moved into Grimmauld Place, and Draco was already accustomed to following the same routine everyday, where Potter tried to save the world and Draco tried not to be an obstacle. His feelings for Potter hadn't change a bit, though. Potter was a prat, and Draco still hated him. Yet, something within Draco seemed to have forgotten that falling for 'The Chosen One' was not a good idea.

"Malfoy?" Potter called, pulling Draco away from his thoughts.

Draco snapped his head up from his book and met Potter's tired gaze.

"It's almost three in the morning, Potter, what are you doing wandering around?" asked Draco looking back at his book.

Potter sighed and let his weight fall heavily on the couch. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and looked down at Draco. Potter had a heavy look, but Draco didn't looked up from his book. They spent several seconds in complete silence —Draco turned the page of his book once so at least it appeared as if he was actually reading— until Potter spoke.

"Are you alright?" he said, emphasizing the 'you', to let Draco know that he was okay himself, and that he was truly concerned about Draco's welfare.

"I am," Draco answered closing the book but keeping his head down.

"Good," Potter said.

Draco sighed and hugged his legs to his chest, letting his head rest on his knees. Potter reached out and placed some of Draco's loose locks of hair behind his ear. Draco tensed visibly with the action, but didn't stop it. No, he wouldn't. Potter lowered his hand and placed it reassuringly on Draco's forearm, as if he didn't believe in Draco's words. He left his hand there and adjusted himself in the couch.

"May I, um… may I call you Draco?" he asked in a barely audible voice.

Draco finally looked at him, a confused look in his eyes. Yet, he nodded.

"You may."

"You can call me Harry. If you want to" He added.

I'm on my guard for the rest of the world

But with you I know it's no good

And I could wait patiently but I really wish you would

Draco still cried due to the nightmares he suffered from some nights. Nightmares about the night he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. About Dumbledore. About Voldemort. Those nights, he sneaked up to the top floor, and cried with his face outside the window, so Harry wouldn't be able to hear him.

One night, however, when his sleep was being importunated by an utterly scared Weasley, and Greyback's hysterical laughter, Harry found Draco walking outside his room. They stared at each other, both in complete bewilderment, until Harry realized Draco was crying.

Determined to keep his mask and dignity intact, Draco turned around, ready to get back to his room, when he felt Harry's hand closing around his wrist. Harry kept staring blankly at him and Draco lowered his face. He would never let Harry see him brake, he wasn't supposed to be weak, when it was Harry who carried all the weight of the war over his shoulders. He'll never know whether or not he regrets it, but Draco started sobbing again in front of Harry. Harry was still speechless, but he took Draco by the nape and held him close to him.

Draco, still frightened, let his face burry in Harry's neck and clutched Harry's t-shirt with desperate hands. He had never been in a similar position before, not even with his mother, and there were just so many things he wanted to say, to scream. Even so, he just muffled his whining in Harry's shoulder. They stood like that for a long time, Harry stroking Draco's soft hair and whispering reassuring words, until Draco broke apart and walked back to his room, without saying a word.

I'll run my fingers through your hairAnd watch the lights go wildJust keep on keeping your eyes on me

It's just wrong enough to make it feel rightLead me up the staircaseWon't you whisper soft and slowI'm captivated by you babyLike a firework show

Some weeks after Draco's nightmare, Harry started getting closer and closer to him, reaching the point where they decided they should share a room. The idea was suggested by Harry, "Until you stop getting those nightmares," he had said. Draco accepted after a discussion that lasted no more that a minute. He wouldn't let his chance slip away.

They had dinner that night together as always, but this time with a thick layer of awkwardness —as opposed to the tension they had during the first weeks— between them. Draco pretended he was fine, but he was nervous about sharing a bed with Harry.

Very nervous.

Harry got up from the table and took Draco by the hand, who was washing the dishes with crippling slowness. He guided Draco, still holding his hand, up to the middle of the stairs, where he suddenly stopped and turned to look at him. Harry leaned closer and pressed their foreheads together. Draco thought for a moment he could feel rain falling on him.

Harry smiled softly, a small curve at the corners of his mouth, and Draco couldn't help taking one of his hands up to Harry's hair and running his fingers through it. He could understand then what Pansy meant when se claimed being able to see fireworks while being with someone. But no, Draco was practically being blinded by them.

In that moment, nothing in the whole world could make him stop looking into Harry's eyes, and to know that Harry was looking into his. It felt incredibly good just knowing that Harry was thinking of him. An ex-Death Eater like himself shouldn't be that close to the leader of the Light side, but being who they were was the best part.

"I think I like you a bit too much," Harry whispered slowly, still looking Draco in the eyes. When Draco blushed, Harry smiled widely —truly.

Draco didn't see fireworks while being with Harry. Harry was the fireworks.