It all started with a paper crane appearing beside his plate in the newly restored Great Hall. One second it wasn’t there and the next it was. He glanced around to see if either of his friends saw it, but they were too wrapped up in the conversation around them to notice.
Harry Potter knew he had a reputation for being reckless and unobservant. But one thing that had been beaten into him over the last eighteen years of his life was that danger lurked around every corner and anyone could be your enemy.
The only people Harry truly trusted were his two best friends. It was lonely at times to never be truly known by anyone else, to never be able to let his guard down. The times when it was just him, Hermione, and Ron huddled together were the only times he ever truly relaxed.
Harry slid his wand out of its holster and silently cast detection charms over the crane. When nothing came back, he cast a few more detailed detections that Kingsley at taught him, including one that detected a magical signature. The only thing Harry could find was a faint trace of Elf Magic. Which meant either the person erased every trace of their own magic before asking an elf for help or…. It was folded by hand.
Harry picked up the crane and turned it over. The folds were perfect. Precise. Obviously done with care. As he turned it, he spotted a speck of ink. With extreme care not to tear the crane, he unfolded it.
I can never apologize enough for what you had to endure, but just know my heart is glad you won.
The handwriting was elegant. Slightly shaky. Obviously written with nerves.
Harry stared at the words for a few minutes, his fingertip tracing the ink. He knew he could never recreate the beauty of the crane but he folded the note carefully and slid it into his pocket.
***
The next note arrived a week later with his breakfast. This time it was cat. His lips quirked in a small smile even as he took out his wand to cast the same detection spells as last time. He got back the same results as before. However, when he went to open it, Ron slid onto the bench next to him and Harry rushed to shove the paper cat in his pocket.
“Malfoy’s glaring at you,” Ron said before stuffing toast in his mouth.
Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table but Malfoy was deep in conversation with Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson. Everyone was surprised at the amount of Slytherins that returned for what everyone was calling their 8th Year. But Harry imagined the war disrupted and destroyed everyone’s lives no matter what side they were on.
Malfoy in particular seemed paler than years past, more on edge. He also ignored Harry at every opportunity and Harry wasn’t sure exactly why that bothered him so much. He watched for a minute as Malfoy took delicate bites of his breakfast, pointedly not looking in Harry’s direction.
Harry ate his food quickly before rushing back to his dorm room to grab his bag. When he had a moment alone he opened the paper cat.
I wonder sometimes what it would have been like to be your friend. If that would have changed things. Do you think we are always destined to be who everyone thinks we are?
A pit formed in Harry’s stomach. He had no idea who was sending the carefully folded paper animals but they seemed… sad. He placed the paper in his drawer with the other one and wished he could tell the writer that no, he didn’t think people were destined to only be one way. That he truly believe people were capable of change for the good or bad.
***
Harry was rushing to Transfiguration, having been caught up discussing spell creating with Professor Flitwick and losing track of time, when he slammed into a body moving around the corner. Next thing he knew he was lying on the ground with someone on top of him. He stared up into grey eyes and gave a slight gasp. His heart raced as he realized the man who had been avoiding him since the beginning of term was quite literally right on top of him.
Malfoy stared down in horror and… something else Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on. A slight blush began to paint Malfoys cheeks which caused Harry’s stomach to churn for reasons Harry was not prepared to think about right at that minute.
Harry opened his mouth to say something he was very sure would be words when the blonde boy scrambled to his feet. Harry remained sprawled on the stone floor, half-propped by his elbows, watching the other boy gather his belongings. He noticed the shaking hands and the dark circles under Malfoys eyes. Harry wondered briefly if he was sleeping ok.
Eventually, Malfoy stood straight and brushed his hands down his robes. His grey eyes bore into Harry’s and he opened his mouth slightly before snapping it shut and walking away, head held carefully high. Harry watched him walk away and wondered when the fire inside Draco Malfoy had been extinguished.
Professor McGonnagal spared him an unimpressed glance as he slunk into class and he knew he was going to be receiving the pocket watch lecture for the hundredth time when class was over. Even knowing that, he couldn’t keep his mind on the lecture. It kept running back to that moment with the cold stone pressing against his back and Malfoys warm body pressed to his front.
It wasn’t until later that he realized another paper animal had been slid into his bag at some point during the day. This time it was an owl. The sight caused his heart to ache and he almost didn’t unfold the note. Once again, he cast his detection charms. He almost didn’t but he could hear Fake Moodys shout of “Constant Vigilance!” and while Barty Jr was most certainly a psychopath, even Harry could admit he was a fairly decent professor.
The note was longer this time.
I know you often hear people talk about your eyes. How so like your mothers they are. I of course have never met your mother. But I know your eyes. I’ve seen your eyes burn with passion when chasing a snitch and I’ve seen them harden with frosty anger. The way they crinkle with amusement when your friends crack a joke and the way they furrow when you hear an insult thrown their way. And yet I don’t think I’ve ever seen the way they look when you’re at peace. I dream about that. You looking at me in peace. In joy. In-
The last word was scratched out but Harry felt he knew what his anonymous author was trying to say. Harry stared at the note, he knew the clues were there. He just had to put them together.
Whoever wrote him was someone who was not a friend. Who felt they owed him an apology. But also someone close enough to see him in very specific moments.
Contrary to popular belief, Harry was not stupid. He was clever and witty and very good at the practical academic work. He had also over the years been conditioned on being able to piece together the big picture with very little information. When people try to kill you every year, you start to try and get ahead of it.
At this point he assumed it was someone in his year, someone not in Gryffindor, and someone who most likely was on the opposite side of the war for whatever reason.
He knew who he hoped it was but hope only went so far.
***
Harry spent the next few months gathering paper animals and information. He had a collection of formerly folded cats, birds, dogs, and flowers. The notes themselves continued to get more and more personal with the person sharing their dreams and fears with him.
I don’t want to go into the family business. I want to be a Healer.
You’re beautiful when you really smile. Not the smile you wear for the crowds. But your true smile that you save for a few people. Forgive me for saying, but I wish one day to see it aimed at me.
You must think me a coward for sending these instead of facing you. But I don’t think I could stand the look of disappointment on your face if you were to realize it was me.
I’ve hurt many people. I’ve hurt you. I hate myself for the things I’ve done.
Do you know that you wait to eat until everyone around you has dished up their own meals? I wish I knew why. You look like you’ve lost weight.
I was wrong about so many things. Everyone deserves a place. No one is better than anyone else. Just because I was born supposedly pureblooded doesn’t make me inherently good or better.
You really hate all the attention don’t you? You seem so tense when one of the younger years tries to get you to talk about the war. The face you made when one called you a hero was… you don’t think you’re a hero. But you are.
I don’t deserve forgiveness.
I wish so many things had been different, Harry. Maybe in another life you and I could have been something.
You look amazing in yellow. Has anyone ever told you that?
Whats it like having friends like Granger and Weasley? I have close friends but the bond the three of you seem to share is… I’m wildly jealous they get to see you in a way I never will.
Harry never intended to keep the notes a secret from Ron and Hermione but they felt like something that was all his. They were from someone who saw him. Someone who understood. But also… the person seemed to have a great desire to know Harry. Just Harry as he was.
Which was why when his friend found out about them and seemed suspicious, he reacted badly.
“Harry,” Hermione started, her voice cautious but her eyes began to take on that wild look that promised someone was going to live a long time in an unbreakable jar. “These could be from anyone. They could be luring you into a trap.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Ron asked, his face was made of stone.
“I just wanted one person. One thing. To be mine. To be real. To be true. Is that…. Is that so wrong?” His voice was a whisper and he kept his eyes on his feet.
The silence that followed his admission was full of glances and heavy with unspoken conversations.
“You know who it is, don’t you?” Hermione asked finally.
Harry met her knowing gaze. He shrugged then nodded. He had known for awhile. Based on the contents there was really only one person it could be.
Ron continued to read through the notes, his red brows climbing higher and higher the more he read.
“Bloody hell,” he moaned. “Did it have to be him?”
Harry laughed, high and bright. “I think it always has been.”
***
Harry waited for the right moment. He practiced and practiced until he had the movements down just right. He spoke with his friends about how they felt and what he should do.
With a plan in place he posted himself against a wall in the dungeons, near the Slytherin Dorms. Finally after what felt like hours, his target made his way down the corridor.
“Oi! Malfoy. Can we talk?” Harry called out casually, his hands shoved in his pockets to hide their trembling.
He saw the other boy freeze for a moment before throwing his shoulders back and swaggering over. Harry could see the trepidation in the taller boys eyes though and took a deep breath before removing his hand from his pocket. He called on every ounce of his Gryffindor courage and held out his hand.
“I wanted to give you this.”
Lying on Harry’s palm was a precisely and lovingly folded paper heart.
Draco spoke not a word as he reached out with equally trembling fingers to take the heart. His grey eyes stayed steady on Harry’s face, searching for something. Harry kept his gaze calm and open, a small smile playing on his lips as he waited for the other boy to open the heart.
Draco looked down and unfolded the heart, still silent until he read the words and a small gasp escaped him. The grey eyes that had taunted and teased and watched and haunted Harry for eight years were watery with unshed tears as Draco took a step closer.
He held up the note. “Do you mean it?” His voice was raspy with fear and want.
Harry reached up slowly to cradle Draco’s face. “Every word.”
As Draco leaned down to rest his forehead against Harry’s the note slipped from his fingers but neither boy noticed. They were too wrapped up in the feeling of each other’s lips against their own for the first time to notice the paper float to the floor. The words of black ink against white paper said:
I forgive you. You can be anything and anyone you want to be. It’s ok to want something different. We don’t have to wait for another life for us to be something. I see you. I love you too.