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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.

Chapter List
- 13
- 14
- 15
14. Return to Courtroom Ten
Tuesday, May 12 1998
Harry Flooed to the Burrow just before six and was surprised and delighted to find that Arthur and Molly were up and busy in the kitchen already. Molly enveloped him in an enormous hug, then all but forced him to sit down and eat an enormous breakfast.
"I thought you might come over, dear, the twins told us you had a good night last night," she said, as he ate.
Harry was wondering about that. He had woken up in his pyjamas in his bed, but had no idea what had happened from about the middle of dinner the previous night onwards. The elf-wine had obviously been rather more potent than he thought. When he woke up, around five o'clock, he found on his desk a potion, labelled 'Weasley's All-Purpose Pepper-Up Potion', with a note under it in George's rather messy writing exhorting him to 'Get this down you straight-away / And your arse to the Burrow without delay!' Great poetry it was not, but he obeyed anyway. The potion had actually tasted quite sweet, making it about the first medicinal potion Harry remembered taking that didn't taste positively vile; once down, it had quite a kick to it and he'd come wide-awake with a bang, and got dressed for the day, then followed the second instruction.
Emerging from his reverie, he thanked Molly profusely and turned to Arthur.
"I thought I'd go with you to the Ministry, if I may."
Arthur chuckled. "I rather thought that might be why you were about so early in the morning. I believe, though, that you'll find that things really won't start until nine o'clock; there's no need to be three hours early like Albus was to your trial."
Harry grinned at him. It was nice, somehow, that Arthur had anticipated exactly how he felt, and why. "I'm sure there isn't," he replied, "but I just had to."
"Of course," Arthur replied, smiling at him, a father's love shining in his eyes. It made Harry's heart flip to know that he really was seen as part of this amazing family. "And you will want to prepare: the Chief Warlock has decided he wants to change the way things are done, and the whole Wizengamot will be sitting with you and deciding on new procedures."
Harry's eyes went wide in shock at the responsibility that it seemed was being thrust upon him, unasked and unlooked for. Before he could say anything, Arthur, noticing Harry had now finished breakfast, continued, "Coming?"
Harry followed him to the Floo, emerging, blinking, in Arthur's rather bright office.

Arthur's office was huge! You could have fitted the Weasley's kitchen and front room into it without trying, Harry thought; although perhaps it just looked like it because a fair amount of the room was still empty. Arthur had a very cluttered desk up at one end, with some tables and chairs scattered around to try to fill the rest of the place.
"Still haven't grown into this office, really," Arthur said, sadly. Harry looked at him, unbelieving: Arthur made a fantastic Deputy Minister, he was sure of it. But then he realized that Arthur had only meant the physical office: Arthur, so used to having no room at all to spare, must have unconsciously squashed everything into the smallest space possible.
Harry couldn't help thinking back to the cupboard under the stairs at Privet Drive. "I know the feeling," he said, remembering how bare his bed had looked in his first year at Hogwarts. Though that was more because he had had so little to put around it for months after he arrived. He had been very embarrassed that everyone else had posters of their favourite Quiddich players up and all sorts of other things scattered around: Neville had even had plants in pots all over his bed-head. It struck him suddenly that the first thing he had put up had been a photo of Galvin Gudgeon, the Seeker of the Chudley Cannons, which had been a gift from Ron; perhaps, he thought belatedly, Ron had actually always been a bit more sensitive than anyone had given him credit for.
Coming back to the present, he offered to help Mr. Weasley rearrange his office.

At half-past seven, Kingsley walked in.
"My goodness, Arthur," he said, looking around at the office, which was now much more spread out and organized, "this looks much more like you actually belong here! See, you do need all this space!"
Arthur grinned. "I had quite a bit of help from our friend Mr. Potter," he replied, smiling at Harry. "He turned up at the Burrow before six!"
Kingsley frowned at him. "Why so early? That's a full three hours before business starts – hang on," he finished up, having twigged; as a member of the Order he had of course heard all about Harry's hearing, and how Dumbledore had foiled the Ministry's crude attempts to keep them both out of the proceedings.
"Yeah, I kind of felt I had to do the same for him, somehow." Harry admitted. He was mostly speaking to himself, so didn't make it explicit that he meant Draco; but the Minister was no fool.
Kingsley looked at him, his eyes very pensive. "Do you love him that much?" he asked, softly.
Harry stopped to think for a second, then said, just as softly, "You know, I think perhaps I do…"

Kingsley's office was the same size as Arthur's; Harry had a sneaking suspicion that this was due to Kingsley's insistence, a feeling that was entirely confirmed when Arthur asked, "are you really sure you have enough space? I can always bunch things up again."
"Nonsense!" Kingsley said crisply, making it quite clear that the discussion was over. The three of them sat to discuss tactics.
"The first thing I have to tell you, Harry, is a piece of rather bad news," the Minister began. "Yaxley escaped during the early hours of yesterday morning."
"Is that what the owl you received at Grimmauld Place was about?" Harry asked, anxiously. This was disturbing news: Yaxley was not a wizard to be trifled with.
"Yes. The biggest concern at the moment is that we think he had inside help." Arthur replied.
"It's a very good thing you had your suspicions about Crockford," Kingsley added. "He and his partner Auror Barnes were in charge of Yaxley's cell the night before last. We are not yet certain that they were complicit …" He left the suggestion hanging in the air.
"As they were involved in guarding the Malfoys at the Manor," Arthur continued, "they will be testifying during their trials. So we'll all need to be keeping a very watchful eye on them."
"And stop looking all surprised and bashful, Harry. Your eyes are young and sharp, as watchful as our old ones. And, as Destroyer of Voldemort, you may find you have quite a lot of clout with the Wizengamot during these trials; you'll find yourself being invited to speak, and should have the refreshing experience of actually being listened to."
Harry was a bit panicked by this, asking "… so what am I supposed to say?"
"I think the only real answer to that," Kingsley replied, "is to tell them like it is, straight from the heart."
And though they spoke together at great length until just before nine, that was the piece of advice which stuck with Harry most.

They entered Courtroom Ten as the Wizengamot filed in, the members all wearing the traditional plum-coloured robes, most of them prominently displaying the silver 'W' which confirmed them as members of the Wizengamot-in-session. With Albus Dumbledore dead, a new Chief Warlock had been chosen. Harry was happy to see it was Albus's lifelong friend Elphias Doge. Harry noticed with interest that Doge was looking quite uncomfortable to be wearing such finery; certainly he wasn't vainly displaying the 'W' on his robe; it was in fact accidentally caught in a fold and looked more like a 'V' than a 'W'.
"Ah, Harry - Mr. Potter," he said softly, sounding more like a grandfather than a high official and only just remembering to use Harry's surname, "I'm so glad you could join us. I think we would all agree that the recent history of justice meted out by this court rather leaves something to be desired; particularly in your case."
"Very regrettable, I'm sure," a senior witch sitting to his left agreed. "And for that reason, Mr. Potter, given your experience from, so to speak, the other side of the bar, we had rather hoped for your assistance in framing a set of procedures that will enable us to conduct business in a –"
"—a less Fudged manner," Doge broke in, smiling at his own joke. Harry gave an answering grin; even though having been on the receiving end of Minister Fudge's machinations, he didn't find the jest particularly funny.
"I'm quite overwhelmed and I'm not sure what I have to offer," Harry began, affecting modesty, though after their conference he had worked out pretty well how he wanted things to end up. "I suppose the first thing is to make sure that we all agree what we are trying to achieve?"
Various members nodded sagely; but one rather cross-looking wizard said "I should have thought it was obvious!"
The witch who had spoken earlier replied, "Indeed, Libatius? Then perhaps you would be kind enough to expound it to us?" Her voice was quite sincere and earnest, but there was a twinkle in her eye and suddenly Harry was sure she was baiting him. This might even be fun, he thought, if only Draco's future didn't hang on it.
"Well Dalmatea, we're here to …" the wizard began, paused, then came out with, "… to establish the guilt of those tried, of course!"
"I see," Dalmatea continued, in an ominously soft voice, "not their innocence, if they are, then?"
"Well of course!"
"But mostly their guilt, I fear," said Elphias. "Surely this is exactly the point. We can't just presume guilt. Do we not need to look beyond this room, these trials, and ask how we might best build a world that, as Mr. Potter's friend Professor Lupin so eloquently put it, we can live a happier life?"
There was more nodding and murmuring; but Libatius wasn't having any of it. "And what is that going to mean in practice?" he demanded.
"Perhaps," Harry suggested, deferentially, "we should begin by trying to find the truth, rather than guilt or innocence?"
"An enchanting idea," said Libatius, coldly. It made Harry think of Snape; and then it suddenly dawned on him who he was talking to. Libatius Borage, author of 'Advanced Potion-Making', the school Potions textbook for N.E.W.T.-level classes.
"Excuse me, sir, but are you Libatius Borage?" he asked.
"We forget our manners," Elphias said, "yes, indeed, Mr. Potter, allow me to introduce our esteemed members Libatius Borage and Dalmatea Merrythought."
Merrythought? He wondered. "Professor Galatea Merrythought's daughter?" he asked. Galatea had taught Defense at Hogwarts for nearly fifty years; he remembered that Dumbledore had mentioned her as being one of his teachers.
Dalmatea beamed. "Yes indeed," she replied, "my mother has followed your career with great interest."
"She's still alive?"
"Oh yes; but she mostly stays at home these days. Can't be bothered with society any more. Which, at a hundred and thirty-eight, is probably forgivable."
"Enchanting as this discussion may be," Borage broke in, "perhaps we could continue with the matter at hand?"
What is it with Potions Masters and being a moody git? Harry wondered to himself.
"Which was about finding the truth, I think," a younger wizard interjected. "Do you have Veritaserum for us, Liberius?"
At this, Liberius puffed up a little. Harry just knew he was going to show off.
"As it happens, I have something better," he began. "My dear friend Severus Snape" – Harry suppressed a snort, he had read the notes in Snape's copy of Advanced Potion-Making and knew exactly what Snape thought of the man – "has bequeathed me a large vat containing a most interesting potion he called 'Expositor Falsitas'. Apparently, even the spells and oaths the Death Eaters used are not proof against it. Instead of forcing those who take it to tell the truth, it makes it impossible to tell a lie."
Harry sat up. Borage went on about how it worked and theories about Death Eater potions, but he wasn't very interested in that. Snape had been a Death Eater himself, and a first-class Potions Master; if he had said that it worked, then Harry was certain that it would. And he was sure of it for another reason: he had a sense that the voice of his dreams was encouraging him that it was so, and somehow he knew that voice would never lie to him.
"So," the younger wizard replied, "we should make the accused take it?"
Harry saw his opening. "Why just the accused?" he asked. "How about, as a show of good faith, we all take it ourselves? And ask all witnesses to take it as well?"
There was a general hubbub, in which a few random pronouncements could be heard.
"What?" someone expostulated.
"Doesn't he trust us?" another witch asked.
"Ladies, gentlemen, magicals all" Doge began, calmly and softly, but his voice somehow had the power to calm everyone down. "I don't believe there's any suggestion of 'not trusting' here. As Mr. Potter has said, why not take the potion as a gesture of good faith? To show the world that we are concerned enough for the truth to ensure that no-one can give us anything else? Libatius, is there sufficient potion for the purpose? And are you convinced that it is safe?"
"Oh yes, Professor Snape left an alarmingly large amount, though perhaps he had anticipated this turn of events." Borage said and Harry wondered about that. Was Snape that clever? Possibly. "And yes, I have tested the potion and it certainly has no ill effects, and genuinely prevents those who take it from lying. Unfortunately, there appears to be no counter-potion; so one has to wait for the effects to wear off…"
"How long does that take?" the younger wizard asked, agitated.
"Twelve hours," came the reply.
"I think we should do it." Dalmatea said, daring them to disagree. Something in her face said that she didn't actually believe her colleagues could live without lying for twelve hours.
There was a discussion all round, and eventually it was decided to adopt Harry's rather unorthodox suggestion. Harry, for his part, took notice of those who were most put out by the suggestion; they, he decided, were the ones with something to hide. And if the Wizengamot was serious about getting to the truth, they were the ones of most interest.

At this point there was a short adjournment, the potion was fetched, and everyone had a cup of tea, then took the potion as they re-entered the chamber to take their seats.
The next issue was whether being Death Eater should automatically imply guilt. Harry was dismayed to find that there was a sizeable faction inside the Wizengamot that thought that it should. Where was the desire for truth if they were going to stick to simple prejudice to decide for them? And also, he admitted to himself a little bitterly, he had a personal angle, a less pure motivation: if having been a Death Eater was a ticket to Azkaban, Draco and Lucius were doomed before the trial started.
But in fact there was no need to worry. Doge proved himself quite masterly. He pointed out the same thought about prejudice in such a mild way, asking as if for the Wizengamot's help, that they didn't notice how much they had been lead when they concluded that it was, like blood status, a fact of interest, but not conclusive one way or the other as to guilt.
Harry was becoming very impressed with the Chief Warlock. He didn't seem to get ruffled, never raised his voice, and had the whole lot eating out of his hand.

At this point in the proceedings it was suggested that the members might like to break for a spot of lunch. The suggestion was received with alacrity and the chamber emptied with almost indecent speed. Harry found himself invited to lunch with Kingsley, Arthur, and, to his surprise, Elphias Doge himself.
It was a pleasant meal, with light, though not particularly light-hearted, conversation; but when they had finished eating, things naturally took a more serious turn.
"What about you, Harry?" Doge asked him. "What's in your future, do you think?"
"You know we would welcome you into the Auror programme in August with open arms," Kingsley added.
"Thank you, sir – Kingsley," Harry added, just managing not to be scolded. "But Headmistress McGonagall said something about a special study programme, and at Professor Snape's funeral I sort of decided I should sign up for it."
"Might one enquire why?" Doge asked, diffidently.
"Well, firstly, I got the message from the will that Professor Snape actually held out some hope for me, scholastically, which was more than he'd ever said at Hogwarts. But it's not just like I owe it to him. I want to be my own man, to achieve my own successes; I guess I feel like if I join up to Auror training without doing the N.E.W.T.s I'll always feel I got accepted because of my fame, not my ability."
"That's a very fair answer, Harry," Kingsley said, a rather thoughtful expression on his face. The truth is that Harry's maturity had taken him by surprise. The young wizard had acquitted himself magnificently before the Wizengamot this morning, and, between him and Doge, the Minister began to allow himself to hope that the trials wouldn't just give the knee-jerk "stick 'em in Azkaban and throw away the key" result that had been threatening a week ago. "The Headmistress and I are still consulting on the specifics, but at the moment the idea is to bring the starting date forward to the beginning of July, with special classes for the eighth-years, as they would be known. The idea will be that as hopefully you'll have a little more maturity than the other students, you'll be able to complete studies by the end of January, and then have a little space before the seventh-years graduate at the end of June."
Harry gasped. That made three months less in total than a normal school year for the hardest year of all – it was a bit of a tall order! But he could understand the reasoning – if both seventh and eighth years graduated at the same time, there would be no-one available for any graduate programme for a whole year, and then a double lot. The gap should ease the problem in both ways – eighth-year graduates would be available to start work or further study sooner, and not have to compete against the normal output which would come four months later.
"I shouldn't worry too much, Harry," Doge said, kindlily. "And for the moment, we have to get through these trials; I'm afraid it's time to begin."
With that, lunch was over.

The trial of the Wizengamot against Narcissa Malfoy began right after lunch, at one o'clock.
Narcissa was brought in, given the new serum, and made to sit on the rather plain uncomfortable-looking high-backed defendant's chair in the middle of the room. When she put her arms on the arms of the chair, they were bound by cords that came out of the armrests and snaked around her arms.
Several people gasped at that. The outrage, though silent, was palpable: a pure-blood treated like a common criminal!
Narcissa ignored the cords altogether.
There was no evidence that she had been a Death Eater, so she was charged with aiding and abetting other Death Eaters, and "providing succour to the enemy".
Elphias looked at Harry, who was silently going red. "Do you have something to say, Mr. Potter?" he asked, formally, but not unkindly.
Harry rose. "If I may," he answered, "Narcissa Malfoy is no criminal. If she aided and abetted, if she succoured –" (he hissed the word scornfully) "- it was because her son and husband were hostage to perhaps the most evil wizard who ever lived. She knew he would have killed either of them without compuction, without a second thought, if it had suited his purpose to do so. And even under this provocation, she showed her true colours when she lied to Voldemort. She told him I was dead when she knew perfectly well I was alive."
Here he was interrupted by the very elderly but still sprightly former Professor Griselda Marchbanks who wanted to know how she had established this.
"She spoke to me, and I replied."
He was asked what had been said.
"She asked me if Draco was alive; I told her that he was safe in Hogwarts Castle."
"Perhaps, then," a stern-looking wizard opined, "she wasn't concerned for you at all, only her miserable son?"
"I don't think that's fair." Harry answered. "She is a mother; of course she was worried about her son. But I believe she looked at me then and remembered that I was someone else's son; and that my mother wasn't there to be concerned for me."
Kingsley, who had been silent throughout up until now, broke in at this point. "Whatever her motives may have been, her actions were surely foundational to the downfall of Lord Voldemort. Had he learnt Harry was alive, who knows what he would have done?"
The Wizengamot considered this for a while, conversation going to and fro. Elphias cleared his throat, and they suddenly quietened.
"I think we must all agree with the Minister," he said, quite mildly, "which would rather mean an acquittal; or am I mistaken?"
Harry continued to be very impressed by the man. He clearly had no interest in fripperies; but the way he had put it made the conclusion irresistable, and indeed the Wizengamot quickly agreed. And so, merely an hour after she had been arraigned, Narcissa was excused, the cords were removed, and she was given leave to go where she would. Of course, she didn't go anywhere; instead, she went over to Harry, thanked him for his assistance, and sat with him to see what would happen next.

"It pleases the Wizengamot to call to trial Draco Malfoy, son of the wizard Lucius, sometimes styled Lord, Malfoy, and the witch Narcissa née Black, for his actions in the Wizarding War," the clerk of summons read out. Draco was led into the room, and Harry was shocked to see the difference two days had made. He was always pale; but he was now looking quite ghastly, and his hair, while still much more presentable than Harry's, was a far cry from its usual immaculate state. As he entered, he looked around the room, ignoring everyone until his eyes fell on Harry. Then Draco's face changed. A simple smile transformed him, some of his old bravado returned, and he once again looked like the Prince of Slytherin House, a force to be reckoned with.
Even if his hair was still a bit messy.
He sat on the chair with arms crossed and avoided the cords by the simple device of refusing point-blank to uncross his arms. He glowered at Proudfoot, the Auror in charge, so fiercely that the latter simply sat back and allowed this unusual state of affairs.
Having taken the mark, Draco was tried as a Death Eater, and a full history of his deeds was discussed. He was asked in detail about them, and so the Wizengamot discovered that, though Voldemort had instructed him to kill Dumbledore, not only did he not do so, but he would not have done so even if Snape had not stepped in.
The discussion surprised Harry because they didn't approach things chronologically; after discussing Dumbledore's death, they returned to Draco's ancestry and the fact that he had been born into a Death Eater family (Harry was glad to see that this fact elicited some sympathy); but eventually the history came to points that Harry himself could touch on. He explained about how Draco had saved his life by not identifying him when he had been disguised by Hermione's stinging hex; how he had tried unsuccessfully to stop Crabbe from using Fiendfyre; and how generally incompetent he had been, Harry strongly hinting this being because he was following orders from Voldemort, not acting willingly.
Against this was set the fact that he had in fact taken the mark, though, it was argued persuasively by Narcissa, unwillingly; he had repaired the Vanishing Cabinet and thus allowed Death Eaters into Hogwarts; and that he had poisoned Katie Bell and Ronald Weasley. Ron was brought forward at this point, and testified that Draco's target had been Dumbledore, and that Draco couldn't really have been serious – Albus Dumbledore was too clever to be taken in by such a ruse. There was a general chuckle around the assembled wizards and witches; nearly all of them remembered Dumbledore from school days and obviously had formed more or less the same opinion.
Harry and Draco's relationship was also examined. And here Harry got a nasty shock. He had explained how they had been rivals at school, but that since the events just after the Battle of Hogwarts, the removal of the mark and the restoration of magic, their relationship had been mending, and Draco was showing an increased level of maturity.
Auror Crockford asked permission to speak. "Of course, Dandelus," Doge answered, though a little dubiously.
"Mr. Potter has told us of an increased maturity," he began. "How does he square that with a boy who has hidden himself away and pouted for most of the last week? How, especially, can we reconcile it with a boy who, on his first public outing, slapped the Destroyer of Voldemort and attracted vile curses on his second?"
Damn! Harry thought. He should have seen this coming. Of course the Aurors had witnessed the slap, and it would be Crockford who had been on duty at the time. And this little question was pure poison – he connected the slap to the other things that were irrelevant, but it looked like they added up to Draco being the same spoilt brat he'd been at school, and undid a lot of Harry's evidence as to his character. He could feel the goodwill towards Draco waning right in front of his face.
Harry took a deep breath before answering. He decided to attack the weakest point first.
"Thank you for bringing these matters up," he began – the legalese seemed to be soaking into him, he thought, but it did buy him a few more precious seconds to put his thoughts in order. "Let me start by pointing out that being cursed is not itself proof of anything. Indeed, I understand that Mr. Nott has been arraigned for casting Sectumsempra during peace time, and will face this court sometime soon?" There was general nodding at this, which was exactly what Harry wanted – they had heard about it, they knew about it, and they were starting to come back on his side. "Mr. Draco Malfoy had curses directed against him – and I protected him. He did slap me, yes, but you can see that I still thought, still think, he is worth protecting. Draco isn't a boy. He's an of-age wizard. His slap was not a boy fighting another boy, but a man who saw his friend – me – at the time despairing, needing a wake-up call. The slap wasn't to hurt me, it was to bring me back to my right mind. It wasn't the action of a pouting child, lashing out to wound, but of an adult seeking to help. And if Draco hid away in his bedroom, perhaps he found the atmosphere was not particularly friendly? Surely we can understand resenting the fact that he was in his own home but not allowed to do what he wanted, to go where and when he pleased?"
Harry sat down. He could feel that his words might, just might, have won support back. Time would tell.

This time, at the completion of evidence, which did not happen until six o'clock, Harry and all witnesses were asked to withdraw, the accused was returned to the holding cell, and the Wizengamot started a private session.
Harry sat outside the chamber, in the morning-tea room, anxiously awaiting the verdict. "How long do you think they will take?" he asked Auror Banks, who was on duty with them.
"I can't rightly say, sir," said Banks, in an official voice. No-one would have gathered that he and Harry were friends; he was being the professional, and Harry respected that greatly. The Auror continued, "but the Wizengamot has asked me to make sure you are available – they expect to call you in soon to discuss any points that are needed."
As though summoned by the words, the door opened, and Kingsley popped his head through.
"Harry, could you come in please?" he asked.

Harry had no idea what to expect. He hoped that Draco would be let off scot-free; he feared he would be sentenced to Azkaban. In the end, neither of these proved to be the case. The Wizengamot asked him a few questions, to which he replied briefly; they were more than satisfied with his answers, and called the accused back to the chamber.
Draco was not sent to Azkaban; but he was required to surrender his wand and reside at the Manor "or such other place as may be approved by the Minister" until the school year began. He would have to keep the Ministry informed of his whereabouts at all times, and not use the Floo network unless explicitly sanctioned. Once classes resumed, he was required to attend eighth year at Hogwarts, and during his time at the school he would be under the authority of Mr. Potter, who had accepted the responsibility gladly. He would not be allowed to apparate at any time for the next year, nor leave the country, nor attempt to conceal his whereabouts, nor perform any offensive magic other than as required for his schoolwork. It was impressed upon him that a breach of any of these probationary conditions would see him in front of the Wizengamot again, in which case a custodial sentence would probably prove inevitable.
At this point, Draco thanked the court most politely and returned into the custody of Aurors Proudfoot and Banks, who took him out into the adjacent tea-room.
The Wizengamot now stood adjourned for the day.

Banks had signaled to Harry to follow, and when he reached the room he found him talking to Narcissa. As he came in, Narcissa looked up and smiled at him.
"Harry, thank you so much for your assistance today," she said. "Our family owe you a great debt of gratitude."
"Please, Narcissa, I had to," he replied, his face turning red with embarrassment.
Narcissa thought at that moment that he looked impossibly cute, though she would not have dared tell him so. "We were wondering if you would do us the honour of dining with us at the Manor?"
Harry blinked. Here, unlooked for but most welcome, was an opportunity to visit the Manor without Lucius, who was still in one of the Ministry's holding cells, waiting to be tried tomorrow. He smiled.
"That would be lovely."

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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