Returning to Sanity | By : AchillesTheGeek Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31212 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3 |
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books or films, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
10. "Dust Thou Art, to Dust Returneth …"
Thursday, May 7 1998
Harry Potter woke up slowly, a huge grin on his face. He had been dreaming of Draco; the conversation they had had in Gryffindor Tower had been playing over again in his mind. As he came fully awake he remembered with pleasure that he was going to see the blond today, and get to hold his hand, because of the Cuffing spell.
The idea of holding hands was very important to Harry. When he was young, almost the only touching he knew was when his aunt and uncle punished him, or Dudley beat him up; so he was only just learning that being touched could be safe. It was one of the things he loved about the twins: they were always mussing his hair, or throwing an arm round him, and it made him feel, deep down, that he really was loved. Having never been held lovingly as a child, he was very sensitive to physical contact, and he needed a lot of it. Having been punished and bullied, he needed it to feel safe. He knew that that was how he felt with the twins; it came as a bit of a revelation to him that shaking Draco's hand had made him feel the same.
He rolled out of bed. A muttered tempus charm told him it was not long after six o'clock. Ron was still fast asleep, so he quietly got up and made his way to the bathroom and had a quick shower, then went downstairs to see if anyone was about and whether there was any chance of breakfast.
Molly was bustling about in the kitchen, getting breakfast for Arthur. He took a seat next to him.
"Harry, hope I didn't wake you," Arthur said to him, "I like to get to the office by seven o'clock if I can; it's astonishing how much more work I can get done when there's no-one else about."
"Here you are, Harry dear," Molly interrupted, as two waves of her wand brought a full plate of sausages, egg and bacon to the table in front of him and a cup of tea over from the kettle.
"Thank you, Molly, this looks amazing," he said "I don't think you woke me; I'd just slept enough," he said as he turned back to Arthur.
"Good. I'm afraid I have to leave you now," Arthur replied. Suiting the action to the word, in one fluid motion he got up, kissed Molly on the cheek, picked up his briefcase, and was gone.
"He works too hard, poor man," Molly sighed, sitting down with Harry as a cup of tea made its way to her. Her housekeeping spells, Harry reflected, were second to none. "Still, I've made Kingsley promise to shoo him out of the office at five every night."
"So, he is Kingsley's deputy now, then?"
"Oh, yes, he accepted on Monday and Kingsley moved him in the same morning."
They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes as Molly drank her tea and Harry made a small dent in the mountain of food in front of him. It made a useful distraction; there was a topic he knew he needed to discuss with her, but couldn't find the words to begin. She must have sensed his unease, and launched right in.
"Harry love, I had a little chat with Ginny yesterday afternoon."
"Oh," he said. "Um. Er…" Top marks for coherent speech, Harry!
Mrs. Weasley smiled at him. "It's alright, Harry. Seeing you apparently dead in Hagrid's arms affected her very deeply, I don't know that she would ever quite have got over it if you two were together – she'd always feel it was wrong that you were there with her alive, but remembering you dead. So it's probably for the best. And I'd say she's found another rather lovely young man, wouldn't you?"
Harry realized he had assumed before that it was Neville; wrongly, obviously, since he and George were evidently together (I wonder if Molly knows that? He asked himself, but decided it wasn't his place to tell her if she didn't). So who was it then?
His face must have betrayed his ignorance, because Molly chuckled, and said simply, "You'll work it out in time. But you do know that I'll always think of you as my son, right? You don't have to be with Ginny for that, much though I would have loved it. Listen to your own heart, Harry; don't try to be what other people want you to be, or even what you may have wanted once. We all grow and change."
Harry nodded. He hadn't realized how much he had needed that reassurance until he received it.
"Oh and the Prophet is here." All of a sudden her voice became stern and motherly. "It seems you had a lot of ice-cream yesterday, young man."
She handed him the paper as Harry groaned. There was a photograph of him outside Fortescue's, obviously taken with a long-range lens as Harry hadn't seen any photographers nearby. Underneath was the heading:
He's done it again!
Diagon Alley gets a facelift, courtesy of Our Saviour!
By Rita Skeeter
Once again the Wizarding world is in awe of Harry Potter, the Destroyer of Voldemort. Yesterday when we all woke up, our beloved Diagon Alley was still wrecked, having been hit hard by Death Eater raids during the War against Voldemort. But trust our hero to have a plan! He arrived on the scene and by lunchtime, all of our most precious stores were back to rights!
Eyewitnesses report that Mr. Potter, with some help from Messrs Fred and George Weasley, used an incredibly complicated, and previously unknown, spell to effect this change. If so, we hope that he will share this spell with the Ministry and perhaps other destroyed buildings will be brought back to their former glory! You can be sure that the Prophet will publish any and all developments in this regard.
Inside: Eyewitness accounts of the day p2; "My father gave him ice-cream; since he gave me my shop back, I could do no less": feature interview with Floriana Fortescue discussing the Boy Who Lived and a dozen ice-cream sundaes, p3; …
Harry stopped reading at this point, having seen enough.
"You know it's all crap, right – um, sorry," he said, apologizing at the end for his language. "Except the ice-creams, I had them; but maybe not a dozen."
"That's all right, Harry, I'm a big girl now, and yes, I do know it's all lies," Molly replied. "Mad-Eye explained to me exactly what he'd done; it was brilliant, of course, and I told him so. I rather think he liked being told how good he was sometimes. And of course I understand that you were helping the twins, not the other way round. But Harry, listen, love, the Prophet thinks you can do no wrong now, and I know how much you hate that, and it is awful, but you should work out what you want to achieve and bend them to it. You know they'll go back to berating you soon enough; but right now you could use them as a powerful force for change."
"Isn't that a bit – Slytherin?" he asked, somewhat appalled by Molly's sneakiness.
She put her tea down, and looked at him, sternly, but not unkindly. "Harry, you're better than that. In the real world, people aren't divided into the four Hogwarts houses. There's some of all of them in each of us. That sort of thinking is exactly what we need to get rid of."
Harry looked abashed. She was absolutely right. He just hadn't thought it through.
"Take Draco Malfoy," she continued. "The world thinks of him as a Slytherin and a Death-Eater. I look at him and I see a poor child who was led badly astray, made some bad choices, and who is trying to work out how to deal with them. Of course he's scheming and manipulative, so-called Slytherin traits; but it took courage and perseverance to get that silly cabinet working; qualities any Gryffindor would be proud of. Even that horrible thing he did to Ron was an accident, caused by that evil man leaning on him, threatening to harm his family. The Aurors want to lock him up; but what he really needs is to be loved."
Wow, Harry thought. He had not expected such understanding. He seemed to have underestimated his wonderful adopted mother. He plucked up courage to ask, "So, if this bonding thing happens … what would you think?"
"Harry, you very well know I think of you as my seventh son. As with any of my children, if someone makes you happy, I'll accept them with open arms and I'll move Heaven and Earth to get you together, if I have to. If it is Draco Malfoy, then we'll all deal with that. You follow your heart, love, and we'll always be there with you."
"Thanks, Molly," Harry whispered. He couldn't speak for the emotion choking his voice.
He sat on the sofa with a fresh cup of tea and thought about the upcoming day. The general idea of the afternoon's memorial was to finish off the wave of funerals with a service to remember all the fallen, but particularly those who couldn't have a proper funeral because their bodies had not been recovered, or their family were all gone. Harry was glad that he had only been to three funerals so far; by the time of the memorial, there would have been about forty, he knew, and he remembered bitterly that ridiculous schedule which Cornelius Fudge had drawn up which had him attending them all. He would have been dead by the end of Monday! Not to mention he'd have to miss many of the interments because the services were scheduled back-to-back.
He wondered why Snape's was scheduled after the memorial. He'd have to ask, tomorrow. Today was about remembering people who had nothing else to remember them by. It suddenly occurred to Harry that this included Vince Crabbe, who had perished in the Room of Requirement by Fiendfyre that he himself had cast. Draco had been very close to Vince. He wondered ….
He placed a Floo call to Professor McGonagall. She answered at once, despite the early hour.
"Potter, how nice to hear from you. How can I help you?" she said, in the calm, crisp tones he knew so well. Even calling him 'Potter' was so much in character that he had to fight not to think of himself back in school.
"Professor McGonagall, I mean, Headmistress, forgive me for interrupting you, but I remember you talked about having a word or two in private when we parted on Saturday, and I suddenly thought of something I'd like to talk about, to do with the ceremony this afternoon. May I come through?"
"Of course, Potter, I'd be delighted to see you. And don't worry about forgetting to call me Headmistress – it's going to take all of us a while to adjust to that!"
He went through into the familiar Headmaster's Study - Headmistress's, now, of course. All the familiar portraits of previous headmasters and –mistresses were there, together with a new one of Professor Snape. As Harry emerged from the Floo, Professor Dumbledore looked up from his frame above the large desk.
"Ah, Harry, how lovely to see you again. I hear that you and Mr. Malfoy are having quite an adventure?" he said, with the inevitable twinkle in his eye.
"Yes, sir" Harry replied simply, having no idea how else to respond to that. In his dark frame, Snape snorted. Harry ignored him, and looked around the study.
Professor McGonagall had furnished the room in a completely different style to those her predecessors had used. Instead of Professor Dumbledore's strange collection of magical devices, arranged on spindly tables dotted haphazardly around the room, there was no nonsense here; all was Spartan and utilitarian. It was clear that everything had its place, and by Merlin that's where it was going to be.
The room was furnished with several hard chairs, with straight backs; and even the lounge chairs set in a corner alcove didn't look particularly comfortable. But there was none of the gloom that always seemed to surround Professor Snape; instead of dark furnishings, everything was wood or tartan, with bright-coloured cushions for accent on the sofas.
He chuckled. McGonagall had certainly stamped her personality on the room already.
"Welcome," she said, reaching out both arms to him. He clasped her hands, and she led him over to the lounge chairs he had spotted. They were more comfortable than they looked; and to his surprise, the Headmistress handed him a piping-hot cup of tea with honey, just how he liked it.
She noticed his surprise, and let out a wry chuckle.
"Albus reminded me how you like your tea, Harry," she said, in a softer, more wistful voice than he had ever heard her use before. "Now," she said, becoming all business-like and efficient, "I should imagine by now that you are heartily sick of being thanked for your part in the war, but of course you have my grateful thanks. Your actions were truly remarkable, and I am very proud to call you one of my Gryffindors."
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said, blushing.
"We must also think of the future. I believe that Kingsley is very keen to get you into the Auror programme straight away; is that still what you want to do?"
She was looking at him shrewdly; I don't think he knows himself, she thought.
"Um, actually, I'm not sure I do, Professor. I'm sorry, I know you put your neck out for me to become an Auror with Professor Um-"
"Please," she interrupted him, "let's not talk about her. And I don't think she deserves that title, or ever did. But you have no need to be sorry; you must follow your own heart and not be beholden to what other people want for you, or even what you yourself used to want."
This was so like what Mrs. Weasley had said to him that he couldn't help the grin that broke out on his face.
"Thank you, Professor. Funnily enough, you're not the first person to say something like that to me today."
"Molly Weasley?" she asked, and smiled when he nodded. "Good. I'm glad you're staying at the Burrow, then; you need family around you. Now, let's not get side-tracked. If not the Auror programme, what does the future hold for you?"
Harry gulped. He'd been living in the moment for the last few days; he hadn't given any thought to his future career.
"I don't know," he said, simply. "I guess it's a bit hard, not having N.E.W.T.s or anything … Is there any plan to deal with that?"
"Yes, of course, The Ministry and I are working out an abbreviated intensive course for the students who took – or didn't take, in some cases," she said, looking at him with a mock-stern expression, "- seventh year last year; after all, none of the students who were here in seventh year have taken their N.E.W.T.s either. And the general feeling amongst the staff is that they didn't learn very much, what with the Carrows hassling them night and day. The plan is to start earlier than September, and to enlist the help of what will be our eighth years in restoring the castle to something approaching its former state. We will be announcing details of this programme as soon as they are finalized; but I should say, Harry, that the school would, of course, welcome you back with open arms if you chose to come."
"Thank you, Professor," he said, blushing again.
She took pity on him and asked, "You said you had something you wanted to talk about?"
"Oh yes!" he said, excitement returning to his voice. He explained what he wanted.
"Well, I suppose it's possible," she replied, somewhat dubiously, after considering his request. "And if anyone can do it, you can; so by all means, try."
"Thanks, Professor," he said with a grin.
He stood in front of the Room of Requirement, his heart beating an anxious rhythm. As far as he knew, it hadn't been used since the Fiendfyre. A cold fear gripped him: would it still work?
He passed in front of it three times, thinking about what he wanted. On the third pass, to his great relief, a black, funereal door appeared. Nervously, hopefully, he went in. The room was largely empty. Around the sides was all the mess and ash from the fire; that didn't bother him, he had asked for it. In the very middle of the room there was a clear space in which stood a low, round table, and on it was exactly what he had asked for. His heart leapt for joy. He was nervous for a different reason; he hoped that somehow this would bring some peace to that "poor child led badly astray".
That afternoon was the first opportunity to see if Lucius had been telling the truth about changing the wards at the manor to allow him unrestricted access. Happily, it turned out that he had; Harry was able to apparate without difficulty into Narcissa's study at two thirty, as agreed. The wards parted for him perfectly, and he had no trouble landing exactly where he wanted to.
Narcissa and Draco were there waiting for him. Narcissa was the very epitome of cool, calm and collected, but Draco's eyes went wide as he arrived. Harry couldn't remember ever seeing him look so agitated.
"I thought you'd want to accompany your girlfriend. But you're really prepared to do this? For me?" he asked, nervousness stamped all over his face. He was even shaking just a little. It was the least self-assured Harry had ever known him, and he found it endearing.
"I said I would," he replied, the tone making it quite clear that for Harry, the promise and the performance were the same thing.
"Thank you," Draco said, with so much feeling in it that Harry knew he really had been dreading the prospect of being Cuffed to an Auror. If what Molly said was true, Harry could see why.
Harry didn't know the Auror present, so he introduced himself: "Hi, I'm Harry Potter."
The man sneered at him. "I know," he replied. He paused, just a touch longer than was polite, before continuing, "Auror Crockford". He inclined his head very slightly to Harry, but did not offer his hand.
"Right," said Narcissa briskly, obviously wanting to gloss over the incivility of the moment. "Now, I believe you will need to cast the Cuffing spell?"
"Yes," the Auror said, with a tiny trace more politeness. Apparently Narcissa's nobility rubbed off even on this unusually rude man. "Now, you two, put your wrists together."
"Pardon?" Draco asked, in that tone often used by mothers speaking to naughty three year old children.
The Auror sighed. "Put your wrists together, Mr. Potter's left over Mr. Malfoy's right, please." It was obvious that they had been fighting on this point for a while. Harry had to hold in his amusement at the Auror being treated in this way, as if he were yet to learn manners. Probably about right, he thought.
They put their wrists together, and the Auror mumbled an incantation. A yellow ribbon of light came out of his wand and snaked around their wrists, then vanished.
"Until the spell is cancelled, you will be forced to remain in contact with one another at all times. Take care when Flooing, it can be very painful if you don't co-operate."
With that, the Auror went through the Floo himself, without seeming to care if they followed him or not.
"He's a piece of work, isn't he," said Harry, taking a firm grip on Draco's hand. Draco looked at him in surprise.
"We don't have to actually hold hands," he said.
"No," Harry agreed, "but I want to."
Draco stared at him for a moment. He hadn't expected this; being Cuffed would explain touching, but this was more deliberate. It was making a statement. Draco wondered if it was a statement he agreed with.
And then he decided. He smiled in assent. "Let's go!" he said.
And, hands clasped together, they did.
The Chapel was much larger than Harry remembered. When they arrived, Auror Proudfoot was standing near the Floo; there was no sign of Auror Crockford, for which Harry was quite grateful.
Proudfoot greeted them cheerily. He must have noticed Harry's surprise at the size of the room, as he said, "the chapel has been enlarged as we expect a much bigger congregation today. I found out that's the reason why we took the extra precautions for Mr. Malfoy here. Oh, and, just in case you're wondering, I sent Auror Crockford out to stand duty at the front door."
"Thank you," Draco said, with evident relief.
"Yes, well, not many of us like him either, I'm afraid. A stickler for the rules and a right pain in the arse. Anyway, please take your seats; the Weasleys and company are keeping the same places as before for you."
Harry and Draco made their way to the front and found their seats. The seating was a little different this time: Ginny was missing, so Harry was seated next to Neville; then came George and Fred, and then at the end was Angelina Johnson. Harry smiled at her; he remembered her from Hogwarts, of course; he vaguely recalled that Fred had been sweet on her. He would have to rag him about it later.
Where, he wondered, was Ginny? He looked around the room and eventually spotted her, seated next to Auror Robin Banks. They were lounging together like old friends, and Ginny looked happier than he had seen her for months.
And then the sickle dropped. He hadn't thought about it before because he always thought of Ginny being so young, and Aurors so old. But she would be seventeen in August; and Robin Banks was only just twenty. They made a wonderful couple together; it was obvious that he made her happy. He had to agree with Molly: Ginny had found a rather lovely young man.
Draco noticed his distraction and asked him about it.
"Ginny and I broke up," he explained, "and now she's over there with Auror Robin Banks."
"Jealous?" Draco asked. He knew he would have been.
"Not at all," Harry said, surprised. He was happy for Gin; it hadn't occurred to him to be jealous. "We wouldn't have worked; in some ways I think she's too noble for me." Draco looked askance at him, so Harry tried to explain a little further. "It's hard to put into words. I know Gin would be there for me, support me, but she wants me to be perfect. I'd be on a pedestal again. I need someone who's prepared to stand up to me, to accept that I'm broken too. She doesn't deserve that; she deserves someone sweet and whole, and I think she and Robin are perfect together."
Draco was stunned. While he'd been practically alone in the Manor, doubt had been gnawing at him. He had been talking himself out of the idea of being with Harry: he knew Harry had a girlfriend and he had been telling himself that 'goody-two-shoes Potter' wouldn't want a Death Eater as a friend, never mind a companion, and that it was only a matter of time until he came to his senses and ended their relationship. If they even had one.
But now look at his actions: Harry had come to the Manor specifically so that Draco didn't have to be Cuffed to that odious Crockford; he had deliberately held Draco's hand when he could have just kept wrists together; and now the bombshell that he and Weaselette had broken up, that he wanted someone who would stand up to him … Someone to slap him when he needed it, perhaps?
Draco was roused from his reverie when Harry was asked to say a few words, and agreed. Of course, as they were Cuffed together, Draco had to stand up and go to the front with him. He listened politely as Harry said some heartfelt words about the dead. Then Harry continued,
"You've all noticed that I'm standing here with Draco Malfoy. That's because the Aurors wouldn't let him come without being Cuffed – magically joined to another wizard – for his protection"
"And ours, from the Death Eater," someone called out in a fierce whisper.
Harry glared in the direction the words had come from. "That is exactly what I want to talk about. We don't get to decide who lives and who dies – none of us would have chosen for any of the people we mourn today to have died. So we have to take care of the ones we have. We have to move on from demonizing one another as 'Death Eaters' or 'blood traitors' or anything else. We have to treat people as themselves. I believe the best way we can remember those who died, the best way to honour them, is to work against the mistakes that let Voldemort become so powerful. To deal with the prejudice we show one another. To reach out to one another with a hand of friendship. To rebuild our society based on love, not fear. That's why I decided that Draco Malfoy didn't deserve to be shackled to an Auror and hidden away in a corner, cowering from the Wizarding world. He deserves a second chance. He has lost friends too; why shouldn't be allowed to grieve openly too? We have each saved the other's life; the past seems so unimportant when that happens. That's why I stand here today to tell you that I am proud to call Draco Malfoy my friend, and anyone who attacks him attacks me too."
With that, the two of them made their way back to their seat, Harry taking exaggerated care with Draco to show that he wasn't just there because he had to be, because they were Cuffed, but that it really was Harry's choice to welcome him to the front.
Draco was deeply moved by this. Harry was deliberately putting him in the limelight, letting it be known that he wanted healing, not a return to fighting.
Part of Draco was wondering how long the attack would be coming; this was an open challenge, after all. But also, he was beginning to allow himself to hope that perhaps his life might not have gone completely down the toilet…
The ceremony was quite short, and they all went outside to bury what remains there were of the departed. A Ministry official gave a short (by Ministry standards) speech, concluding with those poignant words "In the midst of life we are in death. Dust thou art, and unto dust thou shalt return. Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. May they all rest in peace, and live on in our memories."
As he spoke, Draco became quite mournful: he was thinking about Crabbe. The boy had been an absolute idiot to cast a spell he didn't know how to counteract, of course; and he had nearly got them all killed; but nonetheless, he and Goyle had effectively been Draco's bodyguards for six years, and the three had become quite close.
It hurt him very much to think that there was nothing of him to bury. Until his eyes, wandering over the caskets, spotted a small urn of ashes. It had a crest on that he would have known anywhere: the Crabbe crest.
Someone had found Crabbe's ashes. There was only one person who could possibly have done it. He turned to Harry, wide-eyed.
"Harry, how did you …"
"I wondered if the Room of Requirement could give me at least his ashes, Draco. And it did. I knew that you would be feeling his loss. He deserved to be remembered, and buried properly, and I hoped that if we actually buried him, it would give you a sense of finality and help you move on …"
When people with strong self-control lose it, they tend to lose it altogether. At these words, realizing how much Harry had done for him, how much he had thought about him and sought his good, Draco broke down completely. He turned his head into Harry's chest and began to sob uncontrollably. Strong arms encircled him and Quidditch-calloused fingers rubbed his back even as his own arms shifted to hug the other man.
Harry was muttering soft words of comfort to his friend. He knew that other people would be watching, but right now he didn't care. Draco hugging him … this was what he had wanted, all week. These were the arms he wanted around him. This was the person he wanted snuggled into his chest. He had acted to try to comfort Draco; but he realized that it was really him who was being comforted.
Sooner than Harry would have liked, Draco broke away. "Can't have people talking," he said. But, however worried he was, he kept hold of Harry's hand. Fortunately, there was a general groundswell of emotion at the same time, so perhaps they might not have been noticed.
No chance. It was at this point that the attack came. Curses came at them from at least three different directions. Draco heard a "STUPEFY" a "CONFRINGO" and, most worrying of all, someone cast "SECTUMSEMPRA". He huddled into Harry again, wondering how they dared to risk their Saviour like this; at this range, there was no chance of hitting one of them and sparing the other.
Harry's wand was out in a flash and he yelled "PROTEGO MAXIMA". The Shield charm burst out of his wand, an emerald-green light enveloping them. Draco knew a great deal about shield charms: his father had drilled him in them as an essential part of the armoury of the Dark Lord's followers. But he had never seen a charm cast as strong as this by a single wizard. He would have said he knew Harry Potter well, after watching him for seven years; but everything he did today seemed to take him totally by surprise. Seeing the power he wielded in the shield brought home forcefully that this really was the wizard who had destroyed the Dark Lord.
And then the curses and charm hit something. It became clear that the two of them were encased in a shield of magic which the other spells could not penetrate. As the curses hit it, they became visible as blobs of colour, surrounded by a thin border of green, silver and red threads entwined together; as the Protego hit, it seemed to reinforce the other shield and they pulsed together with power. Two of the curses were thrown off and dissipated completely; but the Sectumsempra was evidently too strong for that; it was pushed back to the caster. Draco heard a gasp. The wizard who had cast it had managed to put up his own Shield charm; but it was not quick or strong enough: the curse broke through and sliced off his former friend Theodore Nott's wand arm.
There could be no question now. The Haussmann Shield that Harry had cast was definitely an Endurant Shield. That meant it was part of their lives now. Somehow, they would have to work out what it meant to have this shared protection. What that meant for the Debt and the Bond remained to be seen; he couldn't be sure if they would rule his life. But some things were clear. He could not rely on his own magic, if there was such feeling against him; there was no way he would have survived those three curses by himself. He could not rely on his friends and former allies; if Theo was prepared to curse him, his standing as Prince of Slytherin was gone. He couldn't rely on the Ministry for justice; even now, none of the Aurors had taken any action to find the curse-casters.
One thing was certain: ther was no certainty for Draco anywhere, unless with Harry Potter. Humbled by the thought, not caring how weak it made him look, he squeezed closer to 'the Saviour of the Wizarding World'.
At that moment, his saviour. His only safety.
Harry must have read his mind. "It's all right, Draco," he promised, "I'm here. You're safe with me."
And Draco, at that moment, for the first time, felt that it was really true.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have set up a thread for replies at http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/56042-review-replies-for-returning-to-sanity/ . I will generally try to reply to posts before posting a new chapter.
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