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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.

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22 Enemies Returning, Friends Departing
Sunday, 24 May 1998
His plans were ripening nicely.
That oh-so-useful and resourceful Auror had spread about the rumour that he might use that imbecile Goyle, so the Ministry was wasting several Aurors on round-the-clock guard duty. But he had no such plans; he was not such a fool. Nor was he about to try to attack the house at Grimmauld Place; for one thing, he had developed a very healthy respect for Alastor Moody over the years, and since Mad-Eye had had a hand in the wards, he was sure that they would have some nasty surprises for a Death Eater.
No, his intended ambush location was hardly guarded at all; in fact, the Ministry had even weakened some of the wards for him. He smiled at this. His Lord would have been very proud of him. Of course, he had to bide his time; the place was set, but the date had to be watched carefully. He knew when it should be, of course; but relying on those who had betrayed the Dark Lord already was clearly a stupid idea. But he could watch, and wait; he would be ready.
The only problem he foresaw with waiting was that his confederates might be discovered. But Yaxley was an old hand; no-one knew enough for their capture to destroy the plan altogether. This was especially important, he knew, now that he had learnt of Snape's treachery and the potion he had brewed. That was a severe blow: it had taken months, but they had finally worked out how to defeat Veritaserum. The new potion rendered all that work useless.
He had warned his Lord repeatedly about Snape; Yaxley had always thought his loyalty was too good to be true. And he had a good deal of respect for his skills. He might have hated the old bat (and he knew perfectly well that the feeling was mutual) but the man had been a genius at Potions. He took very little comfort from the fact that his mistrust had been right: he would rather have been wrong, and his Lord not betrayed.
Still, he couldn't change the past; he would have to work to change the future. And a certain young man was in his sights. A certain young man with less than two weeks to live, if he had his way …

Draco woke early. Harry was fast asleep beside him, snoring gently. He gazed at his lover's face with fond affection, his mind going back to the morning just over three weeks ago when he had sat with a sleeping Harry on that chaise-longue back at Hogwarts.
How much had happened since then! He felt in many ways that he wasn't the same person any more; his life had changed more in the last three weeks than in the previous year. And very much for the better. He remembered that the person he was then had thought that Harry awake was a prat, and asleep was adorable. He smiled; Harry was never a prat, he knew that now. He was kind, and warm, and ferocious about his friends. But adorable? Yes, he still thought so.
He stroked the dark hair lovingly. Harry murmured in his sleep, but didn't wake up. The elf-wine and champagne seemed to have combined to give him a full night's sleep for once: to Draco's very great relief, there had been no nightmares last night.
A Tempus showed him it was a little after seven o'clock. It didn't really matter what the time was; Draco was wide awake now, and knew he wasn't going to get any more sleep. He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake Harry, and went to have a shower.

At quarter past eight, Draco was sitting in the drawing room, considering the next round of renovation spells that would be needed for Grimmauld Place. When Kreacher had asked him what he wanted for breakfast, his mind had gone back to the evening before, remembering the delightful French ladies he had chatted to; in deference to the memories, he now sat eating a continental breakfast: drinking a cup of café-au-lait and munching his way through a plate of croissants with raspberry jam which Kreacher had been delighted to get for him.
He heard the chime of a Floo-call, and it wasn't long before Arthur Weasley's face appeared.
"Oh, Draco," he said. "Good morning. Is Harry about?"
"No sign of him yet, sir," Draco answered.
"Good heavens, lad, call me Arthur; everyone does. I wanted to discuss the security arrangements for this afternoon, when Hermione and Ron fly out. Will you be coming to farewell them?"
Draco started. "Um, we haven't discussed this; but I guess, if I'm welcome, I would like to," he said, only discovering as he said it that it was true.
"Oh good," Arthur said. "I must say, you do seem to be getting on well with my family. I'm very glad to see that, both at a personal level as their father, and politically in my position as the Deputy Minister. Actually, Draco, I would like a little word with you if I may. Do you mind if I step through?"
Draco was a bit taken aback. Did he mind if the Deputy Minister stepped through? Would he dare say 'yes, actually, I do?' Would anyone dare?
Of course not. "Please do, Arthur," he replied.
Arthur came through and smiled warmly at Draco.
"Can I get you anything?" Draco asked, suddenly conscious of his coffee and pile of croissants.
"Oh, some tea and toast would be very nice, thank you," he replied. "But please, don't trouble, I'll do it. Kreacher!" he called.
Kreacher appeared with the inevitable pop.
"Yes Master Weasley, how can Kreacher be serving?"
"Some tea and toast, please."
"Yes of course, Master Weasley. Would Master be wanting orange marmalade?"
"Yes, if there's some left."
Kreacher looked horrified, and answered rather indignantly, "Kreacher is knowing the masters love marmalade! Master Weasley, like Master Harry, is wanting thick-cut, and Mistress Weasley thin-cut! Kreacher is always making sure there is plenty of both!"
"Oh, I'm sorry to offend," Arthur replied, and Draco marveled at how easily the tone of a superior apologising graciously to an inferior came to him now, "it really is delightful that you take such care of us, Kreacher."
"Thank you, Master Weasley!" the elf answered, mollified, and popped away. Arthur sat opposite Draco, and they chatted about the party for a moment, until Kreacher brought what was, in fact, Mr Weasley's second breakfast.
"Thank you, Kreacher, that will be all for the present," Arthur said, kindly but firmly, and the elf bowed and left them.
"Now, Draco, I'm very glad you were acquitted. A good decision, I'm sure," Arthur began.
"Thank you, sir," said Draco, lapsing into formality at such a stuffy opening.
Arthur sighed. "I hope we can be friends," he said, to Draco's very great surprise.
"I'd like that," the blond confessed.
"Good. Then I'll try to avoid being stuffy, and you can try to avoid calling me 'sir', alright?"
Draco smiled. "Yes, Arthur," he said, trying the name for practice. It seemed strange, but he'd get used to it.
"Excellent!" Arthur replied, smiling warmly. "As I'm sure you remember, Kingsley, Harry and I had a long chat yesterday at the party. I got into a lot of trouble with Molly for that, by the way." There was a short pause; he was clearly remembering the trouble; rather ruefully, by the look on his face. "Did Harry discuss the conversation with you at all?" he continued.
"No," Draco admitted slowly, taking time to think back. "No, during the rest of the party he was just being friendly and chatting about nothing in particular; and when we got home we were both so tired we went to sleep almost straight away."
Draco didn't feel that Arthur needed to know what they'd got up to during that 'almost'. He was only just able to stop himself smiling at the memory; he was sure that Arthur would guess if he saw that!
"Ah," said Arthur, "I suppose that's a good thing, really, as we did him not to tell anyone. And I'm glad he's getting some sleep. The poor boy obviously needs it; anyone can see that. Though he did look a whole lot better rested, and quite a bit happier with himself, last night, which Hermione tells me is down to you."
"Thank you," Draco murmured, surprised three times: that Hermione thought so; and that she'd told Arthur so; and that Arthur would tell him. He might, he thought, be become more Gryffindor day-by-day (if that really meant anything), but he couldn't help that he still thought like a Slytherin; the habitual openness of Harry and his friends could still amaze him.
"Yes, we told him not to tell, which is important advice in general; but I do think we should tell you. Firstly because of how close the two of you are, and secondly because it does actually concern you rather directly. You see, we've learnt a bit more about Yaxley's plans."
"Yaxley's plans?" Draco echoed, becoming interested. As a former Death Eater, and the son of one, he knew that Yaxley being at large could spell trouble for everyone – even the Malfoys, if he viewed them as traitors. Which would be fair enough, he supposed; in Voldemort's eyes, they had been. And Death Eaters didn't really care about 'fair enough', anyway. They'd go after him for sport, even if they didn't have a better reason.
"As you can probably guess, the last week has been very busy at the Ministry, and especially for the Wizengamot, what with the Death Eater trials continuing all week. Fortunately, eight of them pleaded guilty straight off, which meant a great saving of time for everyone. Some of them tried to avail themselves of the Potter Code, to try to get a second chance; but the ones who had broken out of Azkaban got sent straight back anyway, which basically means they're all imprisoned, or kissed; except for Yaxley, MacNair, who has managed to evade capture this far, and Goyle."
"Goyle?" Draco asked, "Greg's father? What's happened to him?"
"He's shattered," Arthur answered, bluntly. "A broken man, sent home out of compassion. But he can barely speak now, and his magic is all but gone. He has two house-elves, I gather, and is being visited by Aurors daily to make sure he isn't getting up to mischief; but the main concern is that Yaxley might find a use for him."
"And Greg?"
"He's been remanded in custody for using the Cruciatus curse at Hogwarts; but I imagine he'll claim he was under orders from the Carrows, -"
"Which he was," Draco pointed out. They may not be on good terms at the moment, but Greg was still his friend, and Draco was determined to stick by him, even if that was not reciprocated. Harry really is rubbing off on me,he thought, rather ruefully. But it was an unfortunate choice of phrase; the memory of last night, when that was exactly what had happened, came back again, and this time he couldn't keep from smiling.
Fortunately, Arthur seemed to be oblivious. "Yes, so he may get let off; but he hasn't come to trial yet. Anyway, in the course of testimony over the last ten days we have learnt a few things. It seems certain that Yaxley has an Auror, possibly two, working for him; we think he has an Imperius curse operating that the Ministry can't detect. You may remember it was Yaxley who managed to put Pius Thicknesse under the Imperius curse; that, I can assure you, must have taken some doing, as Pius was a very strong wizard."
"Was?" Draco asked.
"Yes, he fell apart after the Battle of Hogwarts when the curse was broken, and has been practically comatose ever since. The staff at St Mungo's have examined him quite closely; a vast array of very clever charms has been used on him, some of which hid the Imperius long enough for him to become Minister without suspicion. So if the same, or similar, charms are operating on Aurors, we'll need to work out how to detect and remove them. Which is taking time."
"Why are you telling me all this, Arthur?" Draco asked, mystified at the trust being shown him. "I'm a former Death Eater myself, after all."
"A former Death Eater," Arthur repeated, adding his own stress. "Which is not by itself evidence of any crime, as the Potter Code insists, as of course you remember. And you have been acquitted of most criminal acts; the probation is more in the nature of a sop to the die-hards than a real punishment, I believe. But anyway, I'm telling you all this because it concerns you personally. Because the second important thing we've learnt is that you are most probably Yaxley's primary target."
"Me?" Draco said, aghast. "Why me?"
"We believe he is incensed with your mother. He knows, everybody knows, that she lied to Voldemort about Harry being dead; which, as Harry testified, changed the War completely. From what we can piece together, he practically worshipped Voldemort, is still fixated on him, and believes that he was the best thing to happen to Wizarding kind, and hates your mother with a great passion for betraying him. We're very much afraid that he's decided the best way to punish her is to kill you and leave her alive to grieve your death."
"Oh!" said Draco, horrified. He could see at once that this would utterly devastate his mother; in Death-Eater logic it made a perfect punishment for her. "Then I should leave here! I'm likely to draw them to Harry!"
Arthur's heart went out to the boy. He was pleased and surprised to hear that Draco's immediate concern was for Harry, not for himself. Proof that he really did love the man Arthur thought of as his seventh son. But if Draco wasn't concerned for himself, Arthur was. He was, he thought, growing to love the blond for himself, and not just for Harry's sake.
"On the contrary," Arthur assured him. "Firstly, this place is one of the most well-guarded wizarding houses in England – the Fidelius charm is shot to pieces, of course, but the wards are still the ones Mad-Eye and the rest of the Order put in place, and we've been strengthening them a lot since. And there are four Aurors on duty all the time – two hidden at the front door, two in the neighbourhood; and we have magical traces all over the place. And then Harry is a major defense all by himself. No, you're safer here than anywhere else. And you're not to worry about Harry. He has rather proven that he can take care of himself. He needs you, Draco, that's obvious to anyone who bothers to look. And I have to tell you, both Molly and I are enormously grateful that you're here for him."
Draco could hardly hold back the tears in his eyes; Arthur must have noticed, because he stood and opened his arms to the blond; the gesture saying clearly 'I'm a father figure for Harry, let me help you too'. And somehow, even though, as Aunt Annie had said, 'Malfoy men don't cry', even though physical displays were just not what Malfoys did, Draco found himself drawn in to the love the man was showing him. He stood as well, entered the embrace, and wrapped his arms around the older man, and to his deep chagrin found himself crying on his chest, as Arthur rubbed his back and made soothing noises.
It wasn't long after that that Harry poked his head around the door and found them still clasped together.
"Harry," Arthur said, warmly, and held out an arm to him. Harry came forward, and Arthur wrapped the arm around him as Harry wrapped his around the two men.

Harry had woken to an empty bed for the first time in days. He missed the warmth of his lover immediately; he was almost panicking as he threw on clothes hastily and raced downstairs in search of the blond. It didn't help when he found Draco in someone else's arms … There was a spike of jealousy before he recognised Arthur Weasley. "Harry," Arthur had said, in a voice filled with warmth and love, and Harry realised that his lover was crying in the older man's arms. His heart went out to his lover immediately as his panic deflated; he went over to comfort Draco, and found himself wrapped up in love by both men.
They stood together until Draco stiffened, and Harry knew that he was becoming embarrassed by the position they were in. He eased the two of them gently away from Arthur, kissed Draco's forehead, and sat with him on a sofa.
"Good morning," he said to them both. "Quite an unexpected pleasure to see you so early, Arthur?"
"I wanted to have a quiet word with you both before the excitement today," Arthur replied. "As Draco was up, I've filled him in about Yaxley."
Harry looked daggers at him. "I thought we weren't going to tell him?" he said, sounding rather annoyed.
"Harry, the first law of relationships is, don't keep secrets from one another!" Arthur told him, quite firmly. "It always leads to trouble. Draco, and his family, are directly concerned in Yaxley's plans; he needs to know about them."
Harry looked abashed. "Yeah, OK, I'm sorry."
"You had better be," Draco said. "And we'd better agree now that Arthur's right. No secrets from one another, OK?"
Harry looked at him, his eyes downcast. But the blond placed his finger under Harry's chin and lifted the other's head, forcing Harry to look at him, and demanded, "OK?"
"Yeah, OK," Harry agreed.
"Good," Draco said, and kissed him soundly on the lips. Harry went bright red to be kissed like that in front of Arthur, but Arthur just chuckled, said "young love," and called for Kreacher. His tea-cup was empty, and Harry would want breakfast.

Arthur did not stay long after Harry arrived. They agreed to come to The Burrow after lunch; they would either go to the airport, or, if that was decided to be too dangerous, farewell Ron and Hermione from the house. Things seemed to be getting quite serious, Draco thought, if these sorts of precautions and contingency plans were deemed to be necessary. He wondered what else had been discussed the previous evening.
When Arthur left, Harry sat at the desk, writing a letter.
"Who are you writing to, love?" Draco asked.
"Your parents," Harry answered, still concentrating on the parchment.
"Really?" Draco asked, surprised. "Um, why?"
"Just to say thank you for a lovely lunch yesterday; that's all right isn't it?" Harry asked, a note of uncertainty in his voice.
"Harry, it's wonderful, and I'm so glad you thought of it," Draco replied.
"OK," said Harry. He put the parchment into an envelope; as soon as he did so, Pig, who was still staying with them, chirped more like a mad budgerigar than a sensible owl, and wouldn't shut up until Harry had given him the letter and sent him to Malfoy Manor.
Draco was still concerned. Not only about the afternoon; Harry had sat down in the armchair opposite him, his gaze down again, and wouldn't look him in the eyes.
Right, he thought. We're not having this. He reached over and lifted Harry's head up.
"Harry," he said, "we're going back to bed. And then I'm going to make you happy. Sound good?"
Harry smiled and nodded.
Draco continued, "and then you're going to make me happy. Do you know how you're going to do that?"
"I think I can guess," Harry said, with a smirk that would have done any Slytherin proud.
I don't think you can, Draco thought. But he really was a Slytherin. The trap was baited; he wasn't going to spring it too early.

They went up to their shared bedroom, stripped off, and within a very few minutes lay together in their boxers, cuddling one another.
"I missed you when I woke up," Harry confessed, his voice sad, the tone expressing eloquently the sense of loss he had felt that Draco had not been there.
"I'm sorry," Draco said, "I woke early, and you were lying there, so beautiful, I didn't have the heart to wake you; but I couldn't sleep, so I thought it better to leave than risk waking you. And it's a good thing I got up when I did; I was only just ready when Arthur Floo-called!"
"Oh. Yeah. Um, Draco, about that. I'm really sorry about not telling you and everything. I tried to keep the news about Yaxley from you because I thought it would hurt you too much."
"I see," said Draco, his hand wandering down Harry's stomach. "And what do you think now?" he asked, as his hand reached Harry's groin.
"Um well I can see that – ooh please, more – I can see that – Draco, yes! – I can see …"
"You can see," said Draco, kissing his lover all around his neck as his hand slipped inside Harry's boxers and expertly massaged his cock and balls, "that it doesn't do any good to keep secrets from me, and you're not going to do it again, are you Harry? Hmm?"
"Um – noo – oh God, Draco, oh, please, oh, oh! Draco!" And Harry lost it completely as he came into Draco's hand.
"Good," said his lover, while Harry gasped and spluttered, trying to get his breathing under control. "Very good. All right, Harry, so what else did you talk about that you haven't told me, hmm?"
"How – gasp – do you know – oh – that there's more?" said Harry, still struggling to regain normal breathing.
"Because I know you, Harry. I've watched you closely since I was eleven years old. You can't keep secrets from me that easily."
Harry finally caught his breath, and turned to his lover. Draco was astonished to see the tears in his eyes. Harry was biting his lip; this was something big.
"What's wrong, love?" he said, softly, so softly, and Harry couldn't hold himself together any more.
"The Dursleys!" he breathed through sobs that wracked his body. "My – aunt – and – uncle," he said, each word coming out on a separate breath.
"I know that, love," Draco said, clutching Harry tight, as he became more and more worried at the dark-haired boy's visible distress. "Hermione told me their name. What about them?"
"They – they – Petunia, my mother's sister, she -" and Harry broke down into sobs.
It took half an hour of Draco comforting him before Harry calmed down enough to be able to talk about it. And when he did, what he said shocked Draco to the core. The Dursleys, Kingsley and Arthur had learned, were very afraid of Harry, very afraid indeed (not, Draco thought, without some cause; he was, after all, probably the most powerful wizard Draco had ever met, maybe excepting Dumbledore); and so it seemed that, by telling a terrible tarradiddle of lies, they had convinced the police and the courts that he was a dangerous criminal, and a warrant had been issued stipulating that he be arrested on sight. And what was worse, what Harry had to screw up all his courage to tell Draco, was that they had also taken out an injunction forbidding Harry from going within two hundred yards of them.
Draco guessed at once that, of course, none of this mattered in itself; there was no reason for wizards to be at all concerned about what the Muggle authorities thought of them, and if Harry wanted to visit his relatives, a mere injunction wasn't going to stop him. No, it was the absolute rejection by his own family; and most expecially, Draco guessed, by Petunia, his only surviving blood relative; that was what was eating Harry up.
Draco felt a surge of anger rising in him. How can they do this? He asked himself. How could they want to hurt this beautiful, loving, lovely man? How could anyone want to, never mind his own family, for fuck's sake? And hurt him they most definitely had. Draco fought down his own anger. Not that it was wrong to be angry: at the right time, he would find some way to channel it into dealing with these horrible people as they deserved. But right now he had to find the icy calm that had so often sustained him at Hogwarts, for Harry's sake; it simply wasn't going to help Harry for Draco to get angry. Draco might care nothing for the Dursleys, but he cared an awful lot for Harry.
"Hush, love, hush; we'll deal with it together, all right?" he said, soothingly, pleadingly, longing to be able to take away the pain, hauling them up the bed so Harry could lean against his chest while Draco stroked him smoothly, sensually, every motion desperately seeking to say 'I love you' even as he whispered the words into his lover's ear.
Harry sat silent for what seemed like an age before speaking. "I'm sorry, Draco, I can't talk about it any more," he said, his voice almost giving out. "I know I shouldn't keep secrets, but –"
"Hush," the blond replied, kissing his nose. "It's not a secret any more, Harry. It's just something I know is there, that you'll talk about when you're ready. And whenever that is, I'll listen. And we'll deal with it together. And whatever it takes, we're going to get you through it, and smiling again. OK?"
Harry smiled weakly. "OK," he agreed.
"But promise me this," the blond continued, desperation coming into his voice, "you won't keep it in when it hurts, will you? You'll come to me, and tell me, and let me help?"
Harry looked at him, astonished. No-one have ever made such an offer to him before, that he could remember; he could hardly take it in.
"You really love me," he said, his voice filled with awe; for the first time, perhaps, it was not a question.
"I do," said Draco, and wrapped him in his arms, satisfied for the moment, and they sat cuddling together for a long time.

They Flooed to The Burrow after lunch. The whole family had gathered in the garden at the Burrow to see Ron and Hermione off. To Muggle eyes, they were travelling extremely light; Ron had a briefcase and Hermione was carrying a small shoulder bag, which had had an Undetectable Extension charm placed on it and contained all their luggage, and probably, Harry thought, half a library beside.
Molly was rather tearful at the thought of losing her son and future daughter-in-law for four whole weeks, and had knitted them Weasley jumpers especially, as it was Autumn in Australia. Ron pointed out that they were going to Sydney, where the weather was about the same temperature as England at the moment, but Molly was unmoved and insisted they rug up warmly. By contrast, Arthur was almost beside himself with glee at the prospect of Ron's adventure on the 'airyplain', and made them promise to tell him all about it when they got back. Ron had already started a large journal in which he was jotting down every detail of the trip. Harry smiled inwardly at the discovery that his best friend was what Dudley would have very derisively called a "train-spotter".
They decided that it was far too dangerous for Draco to go to the airport; and Harry said in that case he wouldn't go either. Arthur was secretly rather glad of this; their information was that Yaxley was on the move, and he didn't want to take any unnecessary risks. Hermione and Ron said they quite understood; and after Harry had a word with them in private, from which they all came out with both smiles and tears on their faces, he rather thought that they did.
"Time to go," Arthur said, not unkindly, and they piled into the Ministry cars that would take them to Heathrow Airport. Harry and Draco stood outside together, waving goodbye until they could no longer even pretend to see the cars in the distance.
"Cheer up, Harry," George said to him as he and Neville came over to them. "How about we teach Draco how to play gnome tennis?"
Draco turned out to be surprisingly adept at this new game, teaching them to spin the gnomes and even make them crash into each other. The gnomes loved him for it, giggling happily as they bounced off one another, and the twins, Harry and Draco played for about an hour, with Neville watching and encouraging particularly interesting shots. Bill came out to them and suggested a quick Quidditch match, which they agreed to eagerly. Bill, Charlie, Percy, Dean Thomas and Robin Banks made up one team, George, Fred, Angelina, Draco and Harry the other.
Molly had put dinner in the oven, and she and Arthur came out to watch the match. Arthur was amazed at the standard of play; he commented to Molly that Ginny, Robin, Harry and Draco were all good enough to play professionally, and even Percy, never known for his skill on a broom, was holding his own in the company. Molly, for her part, had very little interest in or knowledge of Quidditch, but she always stood at Arthur's side, so she was happy to fall in with this opinion.
"Mind you," she said, "I do hope they all choose proper careers like our Percy has."
Arthur smiled at this innocent snobbery.
The game ended with Draco catching the snitch and winning for his team. Harry had elected not to play as Seeker, knowing that Draco had not played for a long time, and had probably thought he never would again; the expression on his face when he won was worth sitting out a hundred games for, Harry decided.
They came down laughing together, and Harry was happy beyond words to see how Draco was included in the chatter and chaffing that went on between them. The twins even got away with messing up his hair; he glared at them, to be sure, but then spoilt the effect by bursting into laughter as they glared back.
"Draco, congratulations on your victory," Molly said, mock-seriously; then, quite seriously, "would you and Harry like to stay for dinner?"
Harry held his breath. Here was a real test of relationship: yesterday had been a party, that was one thing, but what would his lover say about actually sitting down to dine with 'blood traitors'?
"We'd love to," he said, and turned to his lover for confirmation. "Wouldn't we Harry?"
"Yeah," Harry grinned, "that would be … brilliant!"
And somehow, saying it just like Ron would have, made it seem like he was there with them, enjoying the moment; it made them all laugh.

Harry didn't think anything of it when they sat at the table with the twins on either side of them; not until they had finished eating, and there was plenty of noise around the table.
"OK, Harry," Fred said to him, very quietly, "what's up, mate?"
George had obviously heard, because he added, "and how can we help you two?"
Harry put his hands in his lap and looked at each twin in turn. He thought he'd been able to avoid suspicion; he should have known his friends better. They had planned this, he was sure of it. And they had done so, not to ambush him, but because they loved him. Loved them, he corrected himself, seeing clearly in George's eyes that helping Draco was important to him as well.
"Just some things your dad told me," he said, equally quietly. "Draco's helping me work through them, aren't you Dray?"
Draco recoiled slightly. Dray? But he could see Harry meant nothing but love by it, so rubbed his lover's back.
"I certainly am, Har," he replied.
George's face creased from the huge smile that sprung onto it as though it had leapt on. "That's you told, Har!" he said, teasingly.
But it was a faux pas, and Fred could see the tears standing in Harry's eyes, the tears he was trying desperately to keep away, and knew immediately. "Hey," he said softly, "you know George is just teasing, Harry."
For his part, Draco had also regretted the words; as soon as he had spoken them he had felt Harry's whole body stiffen. He raised his arm up to Harry's shoulder and whispered in his ear.
"It's OK, love; I'm sorry. I know it hurts."
Harry turned to his lover, and hugged him, deeply, desperately. He realised suddenly that what he could really do with now was Hermione telling him not to be an idiot, or Ron telling him to "spill". For the first time since they had left, it hit him how long four weeks was going to be without them. He was going to miss his best friends.
And then something totally unexpected, something wonderful, something truly amazing happened.
"Take me home, Harry," Draco whispered.
Harry let go of him, pushing away just a little then grabbing his upper arms with his hands, and looked into his eyes, dumbfounded.
"Home? Is Grimmauld Place home for you?"
Draco kissed him.
"Wherever you live, that's my home," he replied.

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