Free as a Paper Crane
This is a run on that accidentally happened whilst I was in the middle of writing my last post! Oops
He hadn’t meant to become obsessed.
He found the tutorial book in the bottom of a chest he had shoved in his closet when he had turned eleven. That’s when he had decided that his childhood was over.
Inside the chest were piles of toys, books and games. It was a chest of his childhood.
It was a night when the screams in the manor seemed a little louder than usual and Nagini seemed to be around every corner. Draco had needed a break, as he often did. So, he went through his usual routine:
Closing his blinds
Casting several locking charms
Casting a muffliato and a silencio
Getting out of his horribly stiff suit and putting on his muggle sweatpants
Putting on a soft acoustic record
Lighting some candles
Sitting on his bed and breathing
After that point he would usually take a bath, read, draw.
Today though, he decided to let himself have a little self-pity and feel appropriately sad for what he’d become and the situation he’d found himself in. So, he walked over to his closet and took out the old chest, examining the objects of his most innocent years.
He uncovered several toys and games, and mourned his years as a child without responsibilities. Mourned the years when death was only something he knew to happen to old, distant relatives. Soon, he came across a pile of books. He sorted through them carefully until he was holding an origami tutorial book. It had been a present he’d received but never ended up using. As he flipped through the pages, he became increasingly interested. He found a page with a beautiful paper crane and he knew he had to try it.
So, he found some parchment and went about recreating the crane. The first one he made looked a little wonky, it’s neck and bit too long and it’s head far to small. The second one had one wing twice the size of the other. But after that, he began to create little cranes that looked half-alright while wrapped up in the vanilla scent of his room when it smelt like blood outside and the soft guitar strumming instead of the screams.
He had made twenty cranes that night, a relaxing activity that gave his mind something simple, easy, manageable to focus on.
He hid them all in his closet and the next day he made twenty more before also hiding those in his closet.
It became a bit of an obsession, one of the only things that kept Draco sane (well, sane might be a bit hopeful considering most people did not make hundreds of paper cranes only to shove them into their closet) in the midst of a war that partly took place in his own home, a war that he was on the wrong side of.
When he ran out of room in his closet, he began to worry. Should he start filling up his bathroom? Should he start shoving them under his bed? Should he stop?
Then, he remembered that in the book there was a spell to make the paper cranes fly. So, his new obsession became charming all these cranes. A task harder than expected because as soon as he charmed even ten of them, it was impossible to keep them all in the closet.
But soon enough, he found a method and managed to charm every single one. Well, except one. He was charming the last one when there was a knock on his door, demanding and sharp.
He shakily shoved the still crane into his closet. He turned off his record, blew out his candles, struggled quickly out of his sweatpants and threw on a robe.
He opened the door to see Lucius.
“It’s time.” There was a maniac smile on his face.
Draco’s stomach churned. Something was happening and he immediately knew it wasn’t good.
“For what?” Draco asked in as stable a voice as he could.
“The final battle. Potter’s at Hogwarts. It’s time,” he laughed. “We’ll be leaving in ten minutes and apparating into Hogsmeade.”
Draco nodded and closed his door.
He ran to his bathroom, heaved up his dinner, and then promptly got dressed in another stiff suit.
There was blood, so much blood. He was battling the people he stood with before the sorting ceremony, when they were all eleven and didn’t know what was coming. He was battling the girl he did a charms project with in fifth year and the Hufflepuff boy he had admired many times during dinner but never bothered actually speaking to. He was battling the people he grew up with. Maybe he wasn’t the one throwing the killing curse around like a lumos but he was on their side. It was terrifying.
His true home, Hogwarts, turned into a war-zone around him and Potter, Harry, please win, Draco thought to himself as Potter jumped out of Hagrid’s arms. Please, not for Draco but for the children Draco had seen crying in the corners of Hogwarts as he ran through the corridors, dodging curses and for the muggleborns he saw be tortured and killed in front of his very eyes.
And, that’s exactly what Potter did; he won.
A few days later brought Draco back to the Manor. The Ministry hadn’t bothered to collect him yet as his trial wasn’t for countless homicides like many people currently on the run around England. Besides, the Ministry was not exactly a secure establishment with a strong auror force at the minute.
He walked to his room, collecting his essentials so he could leave this Hell and go back to the familial cottage he was staying in.
Then, he remembered the cranes.
He dropped his box of things on his bed before stepping carefully up to the wooden doors. He ran his hands down the mahogany, feeling the dips in the carving reverently before clasping the handles tight.
He opened it with flourish and hundreds of cranes flew around him. It was beautiful. He ran over to his windows, opening them one by one and watching as the cranes escaped the prison Draco had himself been trapped in for the past few months, years. He watched as they flew away and into the country-side and felt like this moment was too symbolic to ignore.
He felt that even more so when he went back to his closet and found the single crane on the floor that hadn't been charmed yet. He suddenly remembered a vague moment from third year, something to do with paper cranes and Potter. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten that after spending hours with hundreds of paper cranes.
Draco knew immediately what he wanted to do.
He grabbed a quill and a scrap piece of parchment.
“I’m sorry.
- Draco”,
he wrote before folding the note delicately and placing it securely into one of the crane’s wings.
He charmed it to fly before adding something else, a charm to take the crane right to Potter, wherever he was because now that Draco himself could fly out of this Hell, establishing the new Draco Malfoy, a free Draco Malfoy, had to start somewhere.