Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

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
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16. Returning to Reason
Friday, May 15 1998
Harry had been so angry and frustrated after the trial that he had gone to bed early on Thursday night, but even so did not wake up until ten o'clock on Friday morning. He still felt tired and groggy; the only good points being that he didn't have a hangover, having gone to bed straight after an alcohol-free dinner, and he hadn't had a nightmare. But he would rather have had a hundred nightmares if Draco could be there; he missed the feel of the blond's arms, missed waking up with him next to him in the bed.
He decided he simply didn't feel like getting up. His reason told him that he would have to sooner or later, but that would mean having to face his anger at Lucius, his longing for Draco, and his complete failure to tell Ron and Hermione anything last night. It was so much easier to be completely unreasonable, stay in bed and ignore it all.
"Kreacher," he called.
The house-elf appeared with the usual loud pop. "How can Kreacher be helping Master Harry?"
"Could you bring me some tea and toast, please?"
"Of course, Master Harry!" said Kreacher happily as he disapparated away. A minute later there was another 'Pop!' and a tray with tea and toast on it appeared next to Harry. He wolfed them down, put the tray on his bedside table, and sank back into his bed.

At the Manor, Lucius Malfoy wasn't being any more reasonable. It did not help his temper at all to have returned exhausted after the trial to find that while the papers and exhibits that had been taken by the lawyers had been returned, they had just been dumped in the entry hall in an appalling mess. It was going to take days to restore the order he had built up over the years.
The only consolation he had was the thought that at least the Aurors had failed to find the secret chamber where the really incriminating books and dark objects were stored; but then, Malfoy magic had kept them safe from inquisitive eyes for thirteen hundred years, it was hardly surprising that these pathetic fools had not managed to find them.
Rather than face Narcissa and discuss things, he had got out of bed early and sought the sanctuary of his study, where he was now trying to restore some semblance of order to his scattered belongings. The mess and the thought of the work ahead of him made his head hurt; so he sat down in an armchair and demanded tea and toast from a house-elf while he gathered his thoughts.
It had been a lucky break with Potter yesterday. Lucius could feel he had been at the extreme edge of his control. If Harry had said anything, anything at all, Lucius would probably have broken down and confessed that the Debt almost certainly meant that they could never deny him anything. And then what? What would have become of him? How could he hold his head high in diplomatic circles if he was known to be Potter's puppet? And even worse, what would happen to Draco? That was the thought that kept him determined to beat the Debt: he had known slavery under an evil Lord, he would not see his son become Potter's slave. Or even worse, his whore.
He got up and paced up and down. Was Potter really like that? A terrified part of him insisted he was; but the rational part said no, he was only thinking so because Potter was a convenient scapegoat. All the Death Eaters had bad-mouthed the boy his whole life, and it was easier to keep thinking ill of him than to admit that they had been completely wrong about him. But the fact was becoming inescapable: the boy they had loved to sneer at had killed their Lord, and was fast becoming a force to be reckoned with in the wizarding world.
It was becoming harder and harder for Lucius to think ill of him. Even without the Debt, it was hard to be angry with a man who had certainly saved him from the Dementor's Kiss, and whose friend, surely for love of Harry, not Lucius, had saved him from Azkaban with that Muggle nonsense about "suspended sentences". He had a sneaking suspicion that half the Wizengamot had imagined him hanging from the ceiling by chains at this point; it would perhaps explain why they had taken so long to cotton on to a different meaning of "suspended" …
It went against all of his prejudices and upbringing: he had been saved from the wrath of the largely pure-blood Wizengamot through the words of the half-blood Harry Potter and the mud- - no, better stop using that word, the Muggleborn Hermione Granger.
It was galling. It offended his pride and his reason. But nonetheless, it was the case. He would have to learn to live with it. He stopped pacing and sank back into his arm-chair. He decided he needed some fire-whiskey in his tea.
Live with it, yes. Like it, probably not.

There was a knock on the door.
"Harry!" Hermione called. "Are you getting up for lunch?"
But there was no answer. Harry didn't hear; he was fast asleep again.

Draco Malfoy had sat in his suite all day, completely pissed off with his father. They had been whisked home straight after the trial, with no opportunity for him to talk to Harry; and the moment they had arrived back at the Manor, Lucius had closed the Floo and insisted that Draco have nothing to do with Potter for at least the next week.
How dare he?! He ranted to himself. And the worst of it was, with no wand, there was no chance of disobeying his father. Even sending an owl was denied him; Lucius had obviously thought of that because as the house-elves had put it in their usual ridiculous way, "oh, no, no, young Master Draco may not be wanting to use the owls now." Then, of course, they had started punishing themselves for disobeying him. So they should, he had thought viciously; it was only because he knew Harry wouldn't want them to that he had commanded them to stop.
Obviously his father thought that being apart for a week would cool them down or something. What had he said while they were in the holding cell? That the bond would weaken if he and Harry were apart? Draco was determined to prove him wrong. Or, even if the bond weakened, he was determined that his resolve would not. He just hoped that Harry would understand; that their feelings for each other could last …

Ron and Hermione were getting worried. They hadn't seen Harry all day; it wasn't like him to not get up at all. What exactly had Lucius Malfoy said after the trial? Harry had refused point-blank to discuss it last night, which made Hermione think it must be something really awful.
Ron hammered on the door.
"OI! You getting up at all today, mate? It's nearly dinner time!" he shouted.
"Murr – gnarr – frrrr – what?" came a muffled voice from inside as Harry slowly came back to consciousness.
"It's nearly dinner time! Are you coming out?" Hermione shouted.
Harry thought about it. But if he came out and had dinner, they were sure to want to know what Lucius had said. And he just wasn't ready to discuss it. He was still too angry, and too hurt; and he had a horrible feeling that they would not take it well at all.
"I don't think so," he said back, "see you tomorrow, all right?"
And then he rolled over and went back to sleep.

Saturday, May 16 1998
Harry woke soon after eight o'clock, feeling less sorry for himself and more than a little ashamed for abandoning his friends the previous day. He decided he had to make an effort, so got up, washed, dressed, and went to sit in the library. Pigwidgeon was sitting on a perch Ron had found him; he had taken up residence there while Ron was staying at Grimmauld Place, so Harry found him some owl treats, which the tiny owl accepted happily.
A little while later, Kreacher appeared. He took one look at his master and went away, coming back just a few minutes later with a bacon sandwich and a large mug of steaming-hot tea.
Harry looked up, enticed by the delicious smell of bacon. He hadn't asked for this; but how could he refuse?
"Thank you, Kreacher, just set them on the coffee-table please."
Kreacher did, and vanished.
Five minutes later, Hermione entered. She was pleased to see that Harry was up and about, and more so to see he had eaten half the sandwich. A small smile played on her lips, but she decided she wasn't going to coddle Harry in his misery: he deserved better than that.
"Are you going to eat the rest of that?" she asked, belligerently.
He looked up, surprised at her tone. "Why, do you want it?"
"No," she said, with a smile at the thought, "though I bet Ron wouldn't say no."
"Wouldn't say no to what?" said Ron, coming in as if on cue. Then he spotted the sandwich. "Ooh, if you don't want that, can I have it?"
Harry laughed. What else could he do? He made a decision. There was no point in moping around in self-pity; he had to get on, make a plan, and sort things out.
"No, you jolly well can't," he answered. "If you want one, go and make it yourself." And saying this, he picked up the remaining half of the sandwich. To his surprise, he found he was actually quite hungry, and it disappeared very quickly.
Ron sat down grumpily, apparently miffed to have missed out food. Hermione, however, sat with a secret smile. Now that she had stirred Harry up, perhaps they might get some answers out of him…
But in fact it was Harry who got in first. He decided he would break down if they talked about Draco, so took the chance to steer the conversation onto less emotional ground. "So, Hermione," he said, as he finished his sandwich and licked his fingers, "have you found out anything more about Haussmann Shields or Debts of Magical Whatsit?"
"That's 'Magical Emancipation', but I suspect you knew that perfectly well," she replied, having noticed the faint grin he had asked with. "Frankly, there's not a lot of material that isn't heavily classified. Even with Kingsley's help, I only found about three books that were really any use."
"Kingsley's help?" Harry said. "Hang on, he's had escaping Death Eaters, Wizengamot trials, babysitting me and he's helped you find material? Does the man never sleep?"
"Apparently not," answered Hermione. "His secretary was complaining about something similar to me. However, all he did for me in fact was sign permissions; the actual work was done by the Ministry librarian, and Madam Pince at Hogwarts. Oh and of course Ron was very helpful fetching books and so on."
"All right, Hermione," said Ron, who was fit to burst by this time. "But for Merlin's sake, never mind who found things for you, what did you find?"
"Oh, right. Well, as you know, Haussmann Shields are very rare, and generally only work with very closely linked people – married or similar."
"Yeah, I get that," said Harry. "Though Draco and I aren't."
"But you are friends, right?" said Ron, in a voice that suggested this was still something of a seismic shift in the Universe as far as he was concerned. "Is that enough, Hermione?"
"If you want to hear what I learnt, you'd do better not to interrupt," she said, sniffily. "And the answer seems to be, no-one knows. The books are very old and not very clear. But I think what they are saying is that the Debt creates a linkage of its own, which is strong enough for the Shield."
"That makes sense," Harry said, thoughtfully. "After all, Lucius told me that the Debt is stronger than a Life Debt, it seems logical that it implies a closeness between the two people…"
Ron looked puzzled, and asked the same question as Harry had days ago: "How can anything be stronger than a Life Debt?" he asked.
"Draco told me that," Harry replied. "It's because of honour. He said you can die with honour; but you can't live without magic with honour."
"He would say that; that's typical pure-blood thinking," Ron concurred.
"ANYWAY," said Hermione, and Harry hid his smirk at having got under her skin, "the Shield can be temporary or endurant, and yours is obviously endurant since it was still there five days after the first time it appeared."
"Does that mean it will always be there?"
"Hmm. Good question. The books were a bit vague about that. There was something I couldn't quite follow about something else, some extra ingredient called a 'mordant'. It seems something extra is needed to make the Shield permanent, but it wasn't at all clear what it was."
"All right," said Harry, deciding to summarize. "So, we know the Shield protects Draco and me when we are together. Do we have to be together?"
"I think so; but that wasn't clear," Hermione admitted.
"Alright." Harry continued. "We know it's quite strong: it deflected the Sectumsempra curse. We know it's endurant, but we don't know how long it will last. We think it's probably based on the Debt between Draco and me, rather than being partners. Though we have become close friends over the last ten days …"
Ron shuddered at this. Harry ignored him.
"And that's about it for the Shield," he continued.
"Hang on," Ron asked, "what about the colours? Do you think they're important?"
"That was one of the strange things," Hermione said. "The books didn't say anything about the Shield being coloured, or even visible."
"Hmm." Harry mused. "So, we'll have to put that in the 'more research needed' column. Now, the Debt. It's stronger than a Life Debt and it's very important to pure-bloods. Draco told me that if a Debt becomes established, which ours now is, there are certain consequences that are permanent."
"What sort of consequences?" Hermione asked, her interest piqued.
"Um… He didn't say, really, only something about being in my power" said Harry, blushing as he remembered exactly why they hadn't spoken any more. "Oh, hang on, Lucius did say something else: apparently, every wizard who loses his magic goes mad and kills himself."
"Phew," exclaimed Ron. "You mean what you did actually saved their lives as well? Blimey!"
"I did find out a bit more, Harry," Hermione chipped in. "Possibly the 'consequences' Draco was talking about – from what I gather they won't be able to actually deceive you, and they have a duty to protect you. But again, the books were rather sketchy on detail."
"What about the bond?" Ron asked. "Dad did say that all the cases of the Shield he'd heard of ended up with the participants being bonded."
"Um," Harry demurred, not quite sure he wanted to talk about his love life. He'd managed to keep his emotions in check, could he keep doing so? But then, he decided, they were his best friends and had done all this research for him; the least he could do was to be honest with them. "Well, Draco said that he wants to be with me – and I've been missing him a lot, even since Wednesday; so I guess maybe we are being pulled together." Deciding that was quite enough candour, and closer to tears than he liked, he burted out, "but I don't like the thought that I'm forcing him into something; that we're being forced into something."
Hermione looked at him kindly. "Harry, I don't believe that. You've had a thing for each other since you met – it's just expressed itself as rivalry and bickering because you couldn't be friends. Now that's gone, I think you're just finding a new relationship, one that hopefully will be a lot more pleasant …"
Harry was extraordinarily grateful to her for saying this, and the emotion started to rise again. The simple love and affection pouring out from her overwhelmed him, and he pulled her to him in a hug to stop himself from bursting into tears.
"Thanks, Hermione," he said. "I needed to hear that."
"Right," said Ron. "Any chance of some food?"

Narcissa Malfoy was getting fed up with her husband. His childish behaviour was hurting Draco very badly, and she decided it had to stop. So, for the first time in her married life, she plucked up the courage to knock angrily on his study door.
To her surprise, rather than just yelling "come in!", he opened the door himself. One look at his face and all her anger evaporated. She had assumed he was avoiding them because he was being a stroppy so-and-so but now she knew the truth: he was hurting. She had never seen him look so anguished, so uncertain, so fearful.
Without a word, he drew her into his arms, into the room, and shut the door behind them. They stood clasped together for a long time.

After a very long and late breakfast, which didn't finish till after lunchtime, Harry declared that they'd done enough talking for one day and he wanted to get out of the house. In truth, he still wasn't ready to discuss what Lucius had said to him, and until he was, he feared that talking to them would just rile everybody up and they'd all get angry to no purpose.
Ron and Hermione accepted this, and suggested they all go to the Burrow to see what Gin was up to. Privately, they both knew that Harry was stalling; but they knew their friend, he would share what was really on his mind when he was ready, and forcing him generally did no good.
When they reached the Burrow, they found the twins there. After a heavy week of trading, this Saturday was, unusually, a rather slow day at the shop; Seamus had turned up, and they'd decided that he and Neville could handle things on their own, so they'd come to the Burrow to see what Gin was doing. They found her and Robin Banks having morning tea together, so the four of them had started an odd version of Quidditch which seemed to involve the twins trying to stop Gin from getting the snitch, and Gin and Robin trying to thump the twins.
Ron and Harry grabbed two spare brooms, and joined in the fun. The game quickly deteriorated into a schoolyard fight: the twins took great delight in sending bludgers at Ron, who proved surprisingly adept at dodging them, and managed to get his own back after about an hour of playing when George wasn't quick enough to evade one that Ron had enticed to curve around him.
George, winded, came down and went into the house while the other five kept flying. He found Hermione helping Molly prepare dinner; which, of course, really meant that Molly was getting food ready while filling Hermione with tea and chatting away merrily. George wondered how it was that women always found something to chat about.
He sat next to them and a cup of tea levitated over to him, sent by Molly.
"Thanks, Mum," he said, happily drinking the strong brew. "How's he doing?" he asked Hermione. There was no need to say who 'he' was.
"Not well," she replied bluntly. "He hasn't told us what Lucius said yet, but it must have been pretty awful; he spent all of yesterday in bed, and managed to avoid the subject all morning. We talked about Haussmann Shields and Debts of Magical Emancipation instead."
"Ooh," said Molly, "what have you learnt?"
Hermione repeated the conclusions of the morning, including, to George's amusement, Harry's rather unguarded comments about his relationship with Draco Malfoy. Not that Harry had said much; but George had always been good at reading between the lines, and he could tell Harry was smitten. And he probably hasn't even worked it out himself yet, poor bugger, he thought.

The Quidditch match lasted until dark, and then Molly called them all in. Clearly, Saturday night was family dinner night: Bill and Fleur came over, and Arthur, who had been working an extra day at the Ministry to keep abreast of all the trial developments, came home from the Ministry, bringing Percy with him.
Arthur beamed when he saw Harry was there. "Ah, I'm glad you're here," he said, shaking his adopted son's hand rather vigorously, "the Minister is very concerned about you. Mind you, we're all very grateful for your testimonies during the trials – the Wizengamot had a special session today, and they are framing a new official code of procedure, which is to be called the Potter Code."
"Ooh, fame at last," George said, mockingly.
"Yeah, hooray," Harry replied. "At last, people won't be saying 'Harry Who?' to me any more."
"But 'Arry," Fleur said, looking confused, "everybody knows 'oo you are?"
This made most of them roar with laughter. Bill checked himself, a bit embarrased at having laughed at his wife's bewilderment, and quietly explained to Fleur that Harry was making a peculiarly English sort of joke, and that they weren't really laughing at her, just that the way she'd said it worked particularly well.
"You mustn't mind us, dear," Molly said, coming over to her, "but you know how the twins are and I'm afraid Harry seems to be developing the same silly sense of humour."
Fleur smiled at them. She was privately delighted to have been part cause of the merriment; her own family was always rather serious, and she adored the fact that conversations at the Weasleys veered from serious to comic and back to serious all the time. Even when she didn't understand the lightning-fast banter, she could feel that they really loved one another, and fully accepted her into the family too.
"It's quite all right, Molly, it's lovely to 'ear such 'appy people," she reassured her mother-in-law, then pulled Bill to her side in a loving embrace.
Molly smiled at her, delighted to see her at such ease in what was still a strange house for her.
"Well," she declared, "I believe dinner is ready."

They sat stony-faced at the dinner table. Draco was still very angry with his father, and so returned his silence, refusing even to look at him. Once the main course had been cleared, Narcissa decided she had to do something; the silence was becoming acutely painful. It simply Would Not Do.
But what to do? "My love…" she began. Both men looked at her; and then she saw her way forward. "You see? You are both my loves. And you both love me. And you are hurting each other very badly, and it is hurting me. So please, for your sakes, for my sake, go into the library and sort this thing out between you!"
They sat there, stunned. Narcissa had started quietly, but ended up yelling at them. With all the force of character that came from being born into the Black family, she continued:
"Go on!" she said. "Shoo!"
Rather shame-facedly, they got up and went to the library together.

Sunday, May 17 1998
Harry woke up and wondered where he was for a minute.
"Morning, sleepy-head," a familiar voice called out, and he sat up in bed and looked round. It all came back to him in a rush: he had slept in Ron's room at the Burrow. Bill and Fleur had left early, but dinner had lasted till very late for the rest of them, and Molly had pointed out that there was no need for them to go Flooing around the countryside at horrible hours of the morning when there were perfectly serviceable beds at their disposal right there. They hadn't taken much convincing; after all the exercise of the mock-Quidditch game earlier, they were very happy to just roll into beds at the Burrow and fall asleep.
"Morning," he replied to the rather-too-cheerful redhead sitting on his bed opposite. "What's the plan for today?"
"George and Fred have gone back to the shop; they've suggested we meet them in the Leaky for lunch. Hermione and I want to go to Diagon Alley anyway; there are some things we want to start getting organized. And I'm betting you're not ready to talk about what's going on between you and the Malfoys, so I reckon you should come with us, or Mum will be pumping you for information."
"It's a deal. I suppose I have to get up and dressed then?"
"Yeah, works for me," Ron said with a wink. "See you at the breakfast table then. Come quick or go hungry!"
Harry knew the words were just playful, there was never any danger of going hungry at the Burrow; but the memories of starvation at the Dursleys' got stirred up as always at even the thought of missing food, and Harry had a very quick – even for him – shower, cast a Scourgify on his clothes, decided that would do, and made his way downstairs.
"Blimey!" said Ron, munching his way through a stack of pancakes. "That was quick!"
"I wasn't going to miss out on Molly's pancakes!" he said, which earnt him a big smile from Mrs. Weasley as she carefully levitated a large stack of pancakes in front of him. It was easily enough for two people by his reckoning, but he could see that in fact his stack wasn't quite as large as Ron's; perhaps Molly had clocked that he might be an honorary Weasley but he didn't have the Weasley appetite.
He proceeded to drown a pancake in maple syrup, just how he liked them, and had got half of it down him when a cup of tea was levitated over to him, with the honey-pot following. It was just as hilarious as last time, and he broke into giggles as he watched the graceful ballet of the honey seeming to pour itself into his tea.
As he giggled, he felt some of the angst and emotional turmoil of the last two days begin to melt away. He was going to be all right. He could face this; and he had the Weasleys and Hermione with him, helping him, being there for him, giving him space to be himself, and courage to come back to reason.
He loved the Weasleys so much.

Draco rolled out of bed. It was nearly lunch-time; he never got up early on a Sunday if he could help it. He was feeling a lot happier after his chat with his father; he now understood that much of what his father had done had been for his sake. He still didn't agree with him: Harry wasn't a danger or a monster; he wasn't going to turn Draco into his slave or his whore. Merlin, Harry had said they were 'almost-lovers' and Draco had a sneaking suspicion that if they weren't actually lovers yet, it wouldn't take long. If, that is, well-meaning parents didn't keep trying to derail them.
He smiled to himself. His father might be making a complete hash of things, but Lucius did actually love him. Even if he didn't have a clue how to show it. They'd have to work on that; but at least they were now both willing to. He felt that a huge burden had lifted from him, one he hadn't even known was there.

Lunch was a whole new experience. For the first time in days they chatted to one another politely, discussing the weather, latest fashions, and what subjects Draco might be studying when he went back to Hogwarts.
Lucius proved to be surprisingly well-informed on the last subject. Apparently while in the holding cells he had used the ready source of information that the Aurors guarding him provided. He told them that the idea was that most students would be required to repeat their year in the normal school year, the thinking being that education under the Carrows had been poor to non-existent; but to avoid a gap of a whole year before students could graduate, the returning final-year students – the "eighth-years" as they would be known – would start in July and finish in January, with the seventh-years finishing the following June as normal.
But of course in order to decide what to study, Draco had to think about what he would do. His heart had been set on becoming a Potions Master; he still wanted it, but he would need to be apprenticed to a master; as a former Death Eater now on probation, who would want him?
Harry, he thought. Harry wants me. Until that very moment, he couldn't have said he was certain of it; some of Harry's doubts about what was him and what was the Debt or the Bond had got to him; but now he pushed those thoughts aside. Harry wanted him, and his family were behaving like reasonable human beings again; somehow they would get through life together.
He smiled as he passed his mother the carrots.

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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Returning to Sanity