Disclaimer: I'm too poor to own Harry Potter.

A Thousand Cranes

Twenty-year old Draco Malfoy sat at the windowsill of his bedroom of Malfoy Manor. He stared out at the snowy expanse outside. His eyes filled with tears yet again as he remembered the betrayal that he had suffered at the hands of his beloved.

Never again. Never again.

He closed himself off to the world, and even in the manor, he only looked after himself with the bare minimum. Just another casualty to the Broken Heart.

Why does my heart not forget?

A snowy-owl fluttered down to him on silent wings. It carried a parcel with it, with a crisp white envelope sitting on top. To Draco Malfoy, it read. Draco watched the owl as it watched him. Wide, unblinking and all-too knowing eyes stared into his own depressed grey eyes.

All-too knowing and all-too familiar. I know this owl. I know that handwriting.

With shaky hands, he reached out and grasped the parcel. The owl, Hedwig, his brain supplied, gave a short dip of her head in acknowledgement and flew off, disappearing against the snowy expanse.

Disappeared. Just like he did.

He stared at the envelope. His heart was torn into two. A part of him wanted to chuck it in the fire and drown himself in oblivion. It believed, that, ignorance was bliss. The other wanted to open it. To see what had become of his love, but it would cost him. Doing so, he would again open himself to the overwhelming flood of emotions.

Wait. I thought I learnt my lesson. Ignorance is never bliss.

In his mind's eye, memories surfaced. Dark hair, whipping around in a short messy ponytail. Laughter, sweet as an angel's. Green eyes, which he liked to believe shone only for him. Lonely nights, spent wondering and doubting. The anguish, when he found the letter which bade him farewell.

The Anguish. Of not knowing why he left, of not knowing why he broke my heart.

He came to a decision. Red-rimmed eyes surveyed the envelope. Steeling himself, he tore open the letter.

Hi Draco,

I think, it's too late. Too late to say sorry for what I did. I don't know whether I'm sorry. I don't know whether the decision I made was right. But I made that decision. To leave you.

I don't know whether your heart shattered, like mine did, when I wrote that letter. I don't know whether you felt the same way I did for you, or if I was just… a plaything. Another toy, for the Great Dragon of Bad Faith. But I made that decision. To leave without knowing.

There are many things I don't know. But I do know why I made the decision that day. You, my love, I wanted to protect. And that reason, is fundamental.

I made another decision. I am going to fight Lord Voldemort today. I think, even at this moment you read this letter, the battle rages on. I must admit, I don't know who's side is the good or the bad any more. I only know that I fight against the man, no, monster who wishes to rule over us, and that I fight him to gain freedom. Freedom from my destiny.

Again, I don't know whether I'll survive. It's a risk that I will take, to fight for my freedom, to fight… to be with you.

Now, I know you must be burning with curiosity as to what is in the parcel that I sent. Once, I read in a muggle story book, that there is a legend, a Japanese one, that, if you fold a thousand cranes, your wish, would come true. Don't scoff. It may be muggle, but I think it is wonderful. It gives me… hope. Remember the day I begged Hermione to show us how to fold cranes in our seventh year? Well, I had planned to fold a thousand cranes, for you. I didn't and still don't know how you feel for me, so I wanted you to have the wish.

In the parcel, there are 999 cranes, all for you. I'm sorry they're not perfect, but… Use the wish well, yeah?

Love,

Harry

Draco read it over, once, twice, three times. His heart broke anew each time he spotted the tears stains and cancellations which underneath he spotted words, more endearing, but apparently deemed too intimate. Finally, he dragged his eyes away from the already worn piece of muggle paper.

He slowly opened the parcel, and out spilled the abundance of paper cranes. His eyes filled with tears and they spilled, unbidden. He unsteadily picked up a spare piece of parchment which lay on his desk and tore a square piece from it. His hands followed almost-forgotten instructions, and soon, the thousandth crane lay with the pile.

Harry. I want you, I need you. I want you back home.

More and more tears came and he fell on his knees before the cranes. He wanted Harry back, but… A scream of pure pain ripped through the air and a strong white glow surrounded him.

"HARRY!"

Somewhere, far away, there was a roar of triumph and a wail of despair.