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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
- 26
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27 Anxiety Leaves and Returns Again
Harry sat in the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, rocking Draco in his arms. The blond had gone completely into shock, and had not stopped shivering for the last hour. Harry was beginning to think that his own ministrations were not enough; but who else? If their positions had been reversed, he decided, he would have wanted Molly Weasley. And that thought made up his mind for him.
He carefully lay Draco down on a sofa and Accioed a blanket for him. Then he knelt down and placed a Floocall to Malfoy Manor.

Narcissa and Lucius had guests over for drinks. People that Lucius knew from the Ministry, people who he still had information on, people he hoped would be useful. And, unfortunately, people who bored him rigid. In the middle of a hilarious – to judge from Narcissa's appearance – anecdote, a house-elf apparated beside her.
"Yes, Mappy?" she asked the elf.
"Please excusing me Mistress Narcissa, Master Harry Potter is being Floocalling in your study," the house-elf told her, his eyes very wide, evidently in awe at having spoken to the Boy Who Lived Twice.
"Thank you, Mappy," she said, and turned to her guests. "Please excuse me, I must take this call from Mr Potter."
Of course they all murmured in agreement, and Narcissa reached her study quickly. As she closed the door, the laughter she had kept inside bubbled out.
"Narcissa?" Harry's voice said, and she sobered up at once to hear the concern in it.

Narcissa and Harry sat talking quietly in the kitchen. Draco had finally managed to fall asleep on the sofa a few minutes before. She had only been there for half an hour, but it felt like much longer; seeing her son so stressed and shocked took its toll on her.
"I'm very grateful to you for calling me, Harry," she said.
Harry looked dumbfounded. "No, it's I who should be grateful," he replied. "I knew he'd want his mother, and you dropped everything to come to his side."
Narcissa looked at him fondly. "Of course," she replied. "He is my son."
He smiled again. He was beginning to love Narcissa Malfoy.
"Would you like to stay? I think Draco would be glad to have you here when he wakes."
"That sounds like an excellent idea. Thank you for the invitation," she said, and the tone made what could have been mere politeness into a geniunely loving response.
"Kreacher!" Harry called, but taking care to keep his voice soft so as not to wake Draco.
The old house-elf had come back from Andromeda's house during the afternoon, having made dinner for her and Teddy. He came out of his little cubbyhole in the kitchen, muttering to himself. "Kreacher never gets a moment's peace, sent here, sent there, always busy, always – MISTRESS CISSY!"
"Shh!" she admonished him. "Master Draco is asleep."
"Kreacher is being very sorry," the elf said, mournfully, then brightened, 'but Mistress Cissy! A daughter of the Blacks! Kreacher being delighted to see you!"
Narcissa laughed, and Harry asked, "Kreacher, Narcissa will be staying the night, could you sort out a room for her?"
Kreacher swelled up like a balloon with pride and his eyes went huge at the privilege of serving a Black. "At once!" he said, and disapparated with a pop!
"Harry?" an uncertain voice called out. It seemed that the noise had woken Draco.
Damn, Harry thought, excused himself, and raced up the stairs, to find that Draco was much calmer after his nap.
"Thank you for letting my mother come," he started to say, but Harry shook his head.
"Of course. She's welcome here any time, Draco. And I could see you needed her."
At this point, Narcissa herself entered the room, having come upstairs at a rather more dignified pace than Harry. "You're looking a bit better, Dragon," she said. "How are you feeling?"
"Tired. And hungry," Draco confessed. "And still very angry with Flint. But thank God for Blaise. When I came to, he was standing between me and them, and holding the shield all by himself. That's why it was so weak, Harry; the others joined quickly, but those bastards had a six-to-one advantage to begin with."
"I was so frightened for you," Harry confessed, "but it was amazing to see the Slytherins and the Gryffindors standing shoulder to shoulder to protect you. It gives me more hope that maybe, just maybe we can make the whole thing work. But, if you're hungry, let's eat. Mrs – Narcissa, have you dined?"
"No," she replied. "In fact I owe you a vote of thanks; your Floocall interrupted me just as I was about to have a rather dull dinner with some acquaintances of Lucius's from the Ministry."
"Dull?" Harry asked, confused. "You sounded like you were having a great time when I Flooed you."
Narcissa threw her head back and laughed. "No, Harry, it was your timing! You called just as Cuthbert Mockridge was half-way through a very dull story about the first time he was Head of the Goblin Liaison Office. Of course I had to pretend it was hilarious; he's now been reinstated following Cresswell's death during the war, and so Lucius thinks he's a useful contact to keep the goblins on-side.I was delighted to be called away, and even more so that because it was you, no-one could feel upset."

Dinner was a very strange event. Kreacher refused point-blank to have 'Mistress Cissy' eat at the kitchen table and insisted on feeding them in the dining room. The meal – a wonderful beef stew – was served on plates that Harry had never seen before; Narcissa, seeing his evident discomfort, and guessing its cause, explained that this was the formal Black family dinner service, and that Kreacher obviously wanted to pull out all the stops as he now had two blood members of the Black family to entertain.
The witch's obvious good humour and natural charm went a long way towards making Harry feel comfortable in the room he didn't much like being in. Having the best china there made it feel like being the Dursleys'; he was terrified he'd break something or say the wrong thing, and that he would get shooed out at any minute for daring to be where he didn't belong. There was no rational basis for this, he knew, and with the two Malfoys there, he decided that this was his house, after all, and they seemed to be perfectly comfortable with his presence; so as pudding was served, he managed to relax and a smile of pure delight came on his face as he surveyed the jam roly-poly and custard in front of him. This treat, raspberry jam spread on a short pastry and rolled up, was one of the puddings he'd only had from Kreacher, and it was rapidly becoming one of his favourites.
Draco broke in on his thoughts. "That's good to see," he observed.
Harry looked up at him. He knew Draco had a sweet tooth, but it was still a strange remark. "You mean …" he said, waving at the pudding with a confused expression on his face.
"Well, that too," Draco agreed. "But I really meant the smile on your face. You've looked totally uncomfortable during the whole meal."
"Really?" Harry asked.
"Yes," Narcissa agreed. "I'm worried that my presence is de trop."
"(Too much)," Draco whispered helpfully, as he could see that Harry had no idea what de trop meant.
"Oh," Harry said, abashed. "Um, no, it's just this room, and having this special china. It's so formal and stuffy, and it just reminds me of being in the Dursleys' dining room …" And the Harry realised what he had said, and knew, and hated, what was coming.
Narcissa fixed him with a stern look. "The Dursleys?" she asked. "Your aunt and uncle?"
"Yes, and cousin."
"And what was wrong with their dining room?"
Harry gulped. Being interrogated by Narcissa Malfoy was not high on his list of 'pleasant ways to spend an evening'. No, scratch that. It wasn't on the list at all. "Um, I wasn't supposed to go in there. Ever. it was full of Aunt Petunia's knick-knacks. I broke one once, and got locked in the cupboard for three days."
"Not go in the dining room?" Narcissa asked, puzzled. "Where did you eat?"
"In the kitchen. Or in my cupboard. But really, I think Draco's still in shock, we should look after him. What do you want to do?" Harry said, turning to his lover, hoping to at least buy some time with this blatant change of subject.

Of course Draco and Narcissa saw straight through it, but Draco, understanding why Harry was doing it, decided to help him. It wasn't hard; he was feeling emotionally drained from the afternoon. "I am feeling a bit out of things," he confessed; "do you mind if I go to bed?"
Half an hour later, Draco was in bed, and Narcissa had visited the Manor to gather the few things that she needed for the night. She came back with a bottle of port wine, and Lucius's thanks and best wishes. Harry had never had port before, and discovered that he liked it even more than the elf-wine.
"He's not mad at me for stealing you?" he asked, as they sat in the drawing room, drinking the port together.
Narcissa laughed again, and Harry found the sound enchanting. "Harry, he's absolutely delighted. When they heard why I'd gone, they all left soon after I did, apologising that they didn't want to intrude on a family emergency. Lucius said he felt my going had done far more good than feeding them could have. And I assure you he was as bored with their company as I was. No, he's much happier in his study drinking port than entertaining that lot; of course, he'd rather I was there too but he quite understands that Draco would want me here, so he's sent you this wine to say thank you."
Having said this, her face suddenly stopped smiling. "Now, Harry, I want you to explain to me just why you weren't allowed in the dining room, and what exactly you meant by your cupboard."
Harry gulped. Again. Being interrogated by Narcissa still wasn't on the list, and now he didn't have Draco. So he started to give her a summary of life with the Dursleys. He explained about the cupboard, and he could see her face narrowing in anger.
"You lived in a cupboard?" she said, her voice low and filled with venom, sounding uncannily like Draco's had earlier that afternoon. He nodded. "I see," she said, coldly. "Until when?"
"Until the letters came," he said softly, not quite knowing who Narcissa's obvious rage was against.
"Letters? The Hogwarts letter? They kept you in a cupboard until you were eleven?" she asked, her voice starting to show some of the fury building within her. With an effort, she regained her calm. "Then what?"
And so he told of the house on the rock, and Dudley's second bedroom, and being locked up, and bored, almost looking forward to doing chores again.
"Chores?" she asked. "What, like cleaning your room?"
Harry snorted. "Cleaning ... everything," and he explained the life of drudgery that was all he had known at the Dursleys'.
When he had finished, her eyes were like flint; and, despite his resolve, he was near tears.
"Salazar! I would not dare treat even a house-elf so badly! To do so to your own flesh and blood! Something must be done. Something will be done," she said quietly, looking away and talking more to herself than to him, and Harry felt a surge of fear. Narcissa Malfoy was a formidable opponent, and for perhaps the first time in his life he actually felt a little pity for his relatives. And then Narcissa looked back at him. "And as for you, Harry Potter –"
Ulp, Harry thought. But he discovered he had no reason to worry; she came over to him, sat beside him on the sofa, and enveloped him in a huge hug, her hands reaching around to caress his hair, stroking it soothingly.
He couldn't help it; the sheer onslaught of motherly love undid him completely, and he burst into tears. No words were spoken until ten minutes or so later, when he had finally stopped sobbing, and she had given him her handkerchief to dry his eyes with.
"Better?" she asked, cupping his face and turning it to her.
Harry smiled at the look of love in her eyes. "Much," he said softly.
Suddenly there was a tap – tap - tap on the window, and Harry got up and opened it. A large barn owl flew in, followed hard on the wings by a larger, black Ministry owl. Harry removed the messages tied to their legs while telling Pig, who was getting anxious with the strange, and much larger, owls there, not to be so silly. As soon as the messages had been removed, the owls flew away; clearly no replies were expected or required.
"See, you silly thing," Harry said to Pig as he shut the window. "No cause for alarm."
He sat down and opened the envelope from the Ministry. It was to tell him an appointment had been made at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries for half-past nine the following morning, and would he please report to the fourth floor where he would be expected.
"What do you think this is about?" he asked Narcissa.
"Fourth floor is for spell damage … oh," said the blonde. "I see. That's clever. The Minister wants to make sure they can prove you're not under a curse or potion or anything."
"But I'm not," Harry said, puzzled.
"No, of course not." She refrained from explaining further; if Kingsley hadn't, perhaps Harry needed to work it out for himself. "Who is the second letter from?"
"It's from Blaise," he said, once he had opened the envelope and started reading the letter. "He's delighted to accept."
"Excellent!" said Narcissa, her eyes sparkling.
As he finished reading the letter, Harry smiled, remembering something else he had done this afternoon. "I got it," he said, which brought a smile to her face, too.
"I'm so glad," she said. "Do you want to give it to him on Friday?"
"If you really don't mind," he answered.
She smiled. "Of course not. He'll love it. And Saturday really is more convenient for us: Lucius is being called in to the Ministry more and more, it seems that they are actually beginning to value his input again. Molly and I have already started plotting. So, do you have a plan for where?"
He smiled. "Yes, I thought –"
"Don't tell me," she said. "Let it be a secret from everyone. Otherwise the surprise will be lost."

Saturday, 30 May 1998
"Oh – oh – ohhhh!"
Harry came awake very suddenly. For a brief moment, he missed the warm feeling of his lover's body entwined around him, until he realised exactly where he was and what he was doing. For Draco had obviously decided now was the time to repay the favour from two nights before.
"Merlin, that's the most wonderful wake-up call I've ever had! Thank you!" he said, giving thanks in his head that he had put up silencing charms the night before so that they wouldn't disturb Narcissa if he had nightmares. He might be growing in love for the Malfoys, but some things weren't meant to be shared.
Draco looked up. "Naturally," he said, with a trademark Malfoy smirk and complete lack of humility, as he made his way up the bed on hands and knees, and finally gripped Harry in a bearhug and kissed him all over his face.
"I'm guessing you're all better now?" Harry said, bemused at this unusual display of affection.
"Uh huh," Draco agreed. "And I love you so much. Thank you." Harry raised his eyebrow in surprise, and Draco continued, "the last few years have been hell. Having the Dark—having Voldemort installed as a permanent house-guest was terrifying. And then losing the war and being seen as Death Eater scum by the winning side and traitors by the losing side, that's pretty scary too. And then discovering we hadn't lost the Dark Lord so much as swapped from one Lordship to another. But Harry, you're amazing. It's because of you that anyone else is making an effort."
"Now that's not fair, Dray; McGonagall and Flitwick—"
"—would be civil, but I don't believe I'd be working at Hogwarts at all if you hadn't asked. And yes, they protected me, but it was you who got me there, you who got the Gryffindorks to accept me, patched up the Slytherins, and then called my mother over here last night when I needed her. So, thank you. I owe you everything, Harry."
Harry had gone bright red with embarrassment. "Um, OK, Um, your mum's still here; I asked her to stay the night, I thought you'd both want to see each other first thing … um, is that all right?"
As he had been talking, a strange expression had come over Draco's face, and Harry's confidence ebbed as he saw it. Was Draco upset about this? Did he think Harry was treating him like a kid who needed his mummy around?
"Harry, you are so goddamned amazing it hurts!" Draco burst out, hugging him even tighter than before. "OF COURSE it's all right! I have no idea what I ever did to deserve you! Now, let's get stirring. It's about seven o'clock, Bill's coming over at eight to deal with the traps at the front door, if you remember." Harry's face must have looked oblivious, because Draco then asked, "Did you remember? And did you tell mother?"
"Oops; no, and no," Harry confessed, still struggling with how much he was loved. If Draco wondered what he had done to deserve Harry, Harry's problem was more that he felt he didn't deserve anything. Having this gorgeous man in his bed every night was something he didn't think he'd ever get tired of.

It turned out that their concerns about Narcissa were unnecessary; she had slept soundly, heard nothing from their room, and was dressed and happily eating breakfast in the kitchen when they got there.
"Morning, Narcissa," Harry said as he entered the kitchen.
"Good morning, mother," Draco said, "you convinced Kreacher to let you eat in here today?"
Narcissa laughed. Harry wondered, to hear it, how he had ever thought her cold. She seemed to be happy and warm the whole time he was with her, now; though no doubt Draco's presence had something to do with that.
"Kreacher and I have had … a little chat," she said. Harry wondered what she might have said had she not pulled herself up, but let it slide. "I have explained to him that you find it hard, not being a Black by blood, to accept things that would be automatic for the family."
Harry looked stunned. "How did he take that?" he asked.
"Very well," Narcissa answered. "You must remember, Harry, that I was brought up with house-elves. I know how to get round them. We also chatted about the painting of Walberga – no, don't worry, he now entirely understands that she was upset while awake, and with you and your friends she would only be distressed the whole time. Being asleep is much the best thing for her."
At this point, Kreacher himself appeared with the Daily Prophet; he had been sent out by Narcissa to buy it. 'Master Harry! Master Draco!" he exclaimed, then muttered to himself, "Masters will be wanting breakfast I suppose. Poor Kreacher, always busy."
"Actually, Kreacher," Draco said, with a wink to Harry, "I think we might let Harry cook breakfast. He does it very well, I found out yesterday."
As Draco had obviously foreseen, this riled the poor elf no end. "Master Harry is not to be cooking and cleaning like a house-elf!" he spat. "Master Harry is to sit down and be served like a proper Master!"
Harry could hardly contain his laughter as he sat down. What would Hermione say! he thought, and was rather glad she wasn't there to witness things. Ten minutes later, he and Draco had enormous piles of pancakes in front of them, drowning in maple syrup; it was difficult to refrain from feeding each other, but with Narcissa present, they weren't going to, and Harry wondered if perhaps that was Kreacher's way of getting back at him; especially when he saw a rather evil smile on the elf's face. But he didn't say anything; the pancakes took all his attention once he started eating them.
"Delicious!" Draco said, eventually. "I think, Kreacher, we shall allow you to continue to make breakfast after all."
"Master Draco is being very funny," Kreacher said, in a voice that made it clear he wasn't particularly amused, as he made his way back to his little cubbyhole. "But Kreacher will show masters he knows how to be a good house-elf, even if they must be having their little joke."

They were still sitting at the table reading the paper, which, Harry noted with relief, said nothing about the previous afternoon's attack, when Bill Weasley arrived through the Floo. Narcissa looked him up and down: he was dressed in very Muggle clothing and with an ear-ring in his ear, he wasn't what she had expected at all. But she was a pure-blood; she knew full well that it was the contents, not the packaging, that mattered, and as a good house-guest she refrained from judgement or comment. Harry apparated with Bill to the doorstep and let him walk in and experience the traps for himself.
"I can see why you want to remove them," he said, after he'd walked in. "Mad-Eye set them up?"
"Yeah," said Harry. "Do you think you can take them down?"
Bill spent a few minutes doing some diagnostic spell work. It was immediately clear to Narcissa that he really was a professional; he worked his way through the complicated series of spells with obviously practised ease, before turning back to Harry. "Old Mad-Eye certainly knew what he was doing, but I think I can handle it. It's going take me most of the morning, I suspect..."
"That's fine," said Draco. "Harry's going to the Burrow to talk about the interview he's doing with Rita Skeeter this afternoon; but Mother and I will be here."
"Oh, I have to go to St Mungo's first, so I'll need to leave in about an hour. Are you sure you're happy to stay, Narcissa?" Harry asked, and the witch laughed again. Harry loved the sound.
"Of course, Harry. Lucius has meetings with the Aurors all this morning to discuss his parole and activities, and I would much rather spend time with Draco than rattling around by myself in the Manor. If, of course, that is agreeable to you?"
Harry assured her that he was delighted to have her whenever she wanted to come.
"But in the meantime you and I should probably discuss what you're going to say about us, if anything," Draco added.
"Ah," Narcissa added. "In that case I think I might pop back to the Manor for a few things."

Harry was somewhat agitated as he and Draco sat in the drawing room.
"So, going public," Draco said.
"Um, yeah. Um, I'm really sorry, Draco, I hadn't really thought about this at all."
"You know Skeeter will want to know, right?"
"Yeah," Harry agreed, "and I'm crap at keeping secrets, so we should decide what I'm to say."
Draco smirked. "I agree. So why not tell her the truth?"
Harry snorted, then thought for a moment. "You're OK with that? I mean, I can see that the Wizarding world needs to know that we're together, if only so you don't keep getting attacked."
"Yes, I'm OK. I have thought about this, Harry," and the 'even if you haven't' was heard but not said. "Obviously not any details. But you should tell her about the Debt – which should be part of discussing the sentencing – and that it's drawn us together, and we've decided we want to stay that way. That we're in love."
A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only when Draco asked, "so, why are you going to St Mungo's?"
"Dunno." Harry said. "Kingley set up an appointment at the Spell Damage ward. Maybe it's about the Debts?"
Draco gave a patronising smile. "No, I think he'll probably want to get some sort of testing done."
"Testing?" Harry said, not following at all.
Draco laughed. "Potter, you really are endearingly clueless sometimes. Yes, testing. People aren't going to believe this isn't a love potion or an Imperius or something along those lines. You know it isn't, and so do I, but the point is that everyone will think so; so if you can prove you're not, from the very beginning, it will pull the flying carpet out from underneath Ali Baba."
Harry laughed at how similar this saying was to the Muggle version.
Narcissa got back just as Harry had to leave.
"OK guys, I need to get to St Mungo's. Narcissa, please make yourself at home – Draco already is. And if you both want to go back to the Manor, that would be fine too," he reassured Draco. "I think we can consider Narcissa someone we both trust," he continued, recalling their conversation of the previous morning, with a broad grin on his face.
Draco's face lit up. "Oh, I think so," he replied. Narcissa looked a little mystified, but she could see that this was some private joke, and didn't seem to be at her expense, so she merely smiled. She would get the details out of Draco later, when they were alone.

It was just over an hour later that Harry arrived at the Burrow.
"Harry!" Molly exclaimed as he all but fell out of the Floo. "You're early! How wonderful! Arthur's busy in the garage. You sit down here and we'll have a nice cup of tea and a natter. But you look a bit fed up?"
Harry explained about the appointment at St Mungo's that had been wished on him, and how the Healer seemed to be determined to fire every diagnostic spell there was at him.
"It was bad enough Scrimgeour wanting me to be the Ministry pin-up boy without being the new target for all healing spells!" he grumbled.
Molly smiled indulgently. She knew perfectly well he just wanted to vent, and was happy to let him do so for ten minutes, after which she gently pointed out that at least Skeeter couldn't print anything about being cursed now, and leading the conversation on. As they talked, she steered him away from the trial and the interview altogether, but was very interested to hear all about the rebuilding of Hogwarts. She pressed him for details about the new tower, but he explained that it was Flitwick's secret and so Harry didn't want to tell anyone.
"Hmph!" Molly said. "I never thought that man would be so secretive!"
"Yes, who would have thought he'd had this plan for so long?"
"Hello Harry!" Arthur said as he came into the kitchen. "Who's had what plan?"
Harry explained about Flitwick and the tower, and Arthur simply observed, "good for him!"

Arthur and Harry were sitting in Arthur's new home office, a wizard space that had been created inside his garage full of Muggle gear. They had spent the last hour discussing exactly how Harry was going to handle his interview with Rita Skeeter. And the more they discussed, the more nervous Harry became as he realised just exactly what he had let himself in for. Even though he and Draco had agreed to tell all, it became a whole lot more scary when Arthur started drilling Harry by asking the sort of questions he knew Skeeter would ask.
The questioning about the Potter Code was bad enough. They did discuss that at length, and Arthur agreed that Harry's explanation of the difference between the Malfoys and the odious Umbridge was pretty water-tight. No, the real problem was that the Ministry had had the Prophet on a very short leash ever since the horrid story that they had printed about the Malfoys; and Arthur was sure that Skeeter would push the boundaries as far as Harry would let her. Which meant he had to be prepared for questioning about the exact nature of his relationship with Draco Malfoy. And the practise questions Arthur threw at him did get pretty exact.
By the time Molly called them for lunch, Harry's face had gone beetroot red three times and was in imminent danger of a fourth time. While there was the inevitable huge, and wonderful, meal, Harry found he had hardly any appetite. By half-past one, he had bats fluttering in his stomach, as wizards say; the cup of tea Molly forced on him helped, but not much.
At last he couldn't put it off any longer; Arthur Flooed with him to his office, to meet up with the Auror who would take him to the Interview Room that the Ministry had provided for the interview.
And so, at two o'clock, Harry once more caught sight of the woman he would have given a lot to never see again, as the sharp, over-dressed, over-made-up form of Rita Skeeter rose to meet him.
"Mr Potter," she said, "what a pleasure!"

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