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
- 28
- 29
- 30
29 Turn and turn about
Last time:
There was the red light again, and this time bands of silver started to weave through it and the darkness receded and grew smaller, smaller, until the red light snuffed it out, while the silver bands encircled him and he woke to find Draco Malfoy holding him, staring at him with frightened eyes.

Draco looked at Harry's face and nearly lost it completely. If he was frightened, the other boy was terrified. All of the colour had drained out of Harry's face, he was sweating and shaking, and, now that he was coming awake, mumbling incoherently. Which was definitely an improvement on the inarticulate shouting he had been doing before he started to wake up, but still not anywhere near good.
The green eyes flitted open, and for a moment there was no light of recognition in them; but then they came into focus as Harry realised where he was and what must have happened.
"Draco? I …" he said. Draco could hear the guilt in Harry's voice; they really had to get him past this. If he had nightmares, they would deal with them. Guilt only made things harder.
But right now was not the time. "Shhhhhh," Draco murmured, and as if the sound had a magic of its own, Harry calmed in his arms and fell into a deep sleep. His breathing suddenly changed from the ragged spluttering breaths of a moment before to move into a gentle rhythm, and Draco could feel the heartbeat coming back down to a normal range.
He felt his own body relax as the peace now radiating from his lover started to calm him, and soon they were both fast asleep, clasped in each other's arms.

Sunday, 31 May 1998
After the stress of the interview and Harry's nightmare waking them in the middle of the night, it was not surprising that they slept on until nearly nine o'clock.
Harry shuddered as he came awake, and he found those strong arms around him again. He felt warm and comforted.
"Hey," Draco said, and there was no mistaking the warmth and love in the voice.
"Thank you," Harry whispered.
"Of course," Draco said softly in reply. "Are you all right now?"
"Yes. I'm sorry."
"Harry, you had a nightmare. It's OK, I know you can't help them; and I feel honoured if I can help you through them. So, no more feeling guilty, all right?"
"I'll try," Harry said with a shy smile that melted Draco's heart.
"Was it Skeeter?"
"Yes," Harry said. But he didn't want to discuss it any further, so he buried his face in Draco's neck, still shuddering; and the blond must have understood, because he just held him, rubbing his back, letting him take his time.
Eventually, when Harry had calmed down and relaxed, Draco spoke.
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Um, your nightmare; was it like beetles attacking you? And then that red light?"
Harry pulled away slightly from Draco's grip so that he could look him in the face. "How did you know?" he asked; although, as he thought about it, there really was only one way he could know; and Draco confirmed his thoughts.
"Because I dreamt it too …"
"What? What did you hear?" Harry asked sharply, and Draco knew immediately that Harry must have heard things he would die rather than admit to. No doubt he had relived something hateful that Skeeter had said to him long ago. Thinking over the nightmares when the Dark Lord had been in the Manor, Draco could understand that completely.
"I didn't hear anything, I just saw the beetles, Harry. And then there was this red light that flowed around me, and I knew that I had to reach out to you, so I did. And then I woke up, and you were yelling, but I couldn't understand a word you said; and then you woke up, and you were so frightened and I didn't really know what to do, but …"
Harry's face fell during this speech, and a terrible fear gripped him as all the fears inculcated by the Dursleys leapt into life again: that even now, Draco might leave him. He was so broken, so hurt; why should anyone love him? Why would this gorgeous man give up hope of living a normal life to help a freak like him?
"I'm so sorry. Draco, please, stay, I'll try to be better …"
"Harry! Don't tell me you're sorry. And don't promise to be better," Draco said, shocked at how Harry was still obviously so wounded by what those Muggles had done to him. But, as he thought about it, he realised that years of abuse were going to take more than a month to sort out. Right now, Harry needed love and gentle encouragement; so he allowed his anger to flow out of him, and looked straight into Harry's so beautiful green eyes with all the honesty and love that he could muster. "You're hurt, and wounded, and we're going to deal with it, alright? I told you before, I'm here as long as you want me, and I still mean that. I'm not going anywhere. I love you, Harry."
"OK," Harry said; but Draco knew he wasn't, quite, not yet.
"How about we just stay here for a while? Maybe get Kreacher to bring breakfast and the Prophet, and we can read it together, and see just how bad the article really is?"
Harry smiled at him. "Yeah, I'd like that."

The headline of the Sunday edition of The Daily Prophet sat over a rather nice picture of Harry, Kingsley and Elphias.
THE POTTER CODE
Harry Potter talks exclusively to Rita Skeeter
The article began
Well dear readers, I'm sure you'll be just as excited as I am to learn that the Destroyer of Voldemort has spoken exclusively to this paper about the plans that the Ministry, the Wizengamot and the Man-Who-Lived-Twice have for reforming our society. It seems that a genuine and wide-ranging attempt is being made to root out many issues that have plagued our society for the last hundred years or so. One of the most important pieces of the ambitious programme suggested by Mr Potter must surely be healing the rifts that have been made between the pure-blood, half-blood and Muggle-born witches and wizards, rifts that were very successfully exploited by Voldemort.
It seemed a great irony to this reporter when she learnt that Voldemort, or Tom Riddle to give his actual name, was himself not a pure-blood wizard at all; his father, it turns out, was a Muggle. So, like his Destroyer, Voldemort was in fact a half-blood. Perhaps, as Mr Potter was too modest to even hint, being a pure-blood is not the marker of superiority we have always been taught it was?
See inside for more details, p12.
They turned to page twelve, to find that the text settled down into an unexpectedly accurate and succinct report of the interview of the day before; Harry was both delighted and surprised to find that Skeeter could actually write serious prose pretty well.
"This is really good," he said, finding that at last he could calm down completely. "I didn't know she could write without spite."
"Probably had another reporter's help, and a very good editor," Draco suggested.
"I don't know that that's fair; I've never read a serious article by her before. Maybe she has hidden talents," Harry protested, and Draco gave a wry smile, both bemused and perturbed at how quickly Harry would try to give the benefit of the doubt to someone who had so recently been the cause of his nightmares.
In fact, Draco was spot on. Most of the article had indeed been written up from Skeeter's transcript by Dempster Wiggleswade, the legal issues columnist for the Prophet, who was not at all pleased that Skeeter got the by-line instead of him, and then edited by their summer intern, Susan Bones. Rita had really only written the top and tail of the article; and the sting, Harry found, was definitely in the tail, as he read the last paragraph out loud:
Mr Potter also spoke to us candidly about his friends and his own love life. Sorry, girls, but there is already a significant other in his life! Who, I hear you ask? We'll tell all in tomorrow's Harry Potter exclusive edition of the Daily Prophet! Definitely don't miss that one!
"Damn!" he said.
"What's the matter?" Draco asked, and then realised. "Oh. I see. They got two days of material out of you, which means you'll be the subject for two days running. Clever of them, in a mean low-down sort of way."
"Not only that," Harry said, rather cross with the Prophet's tactic. "I'm betting that the agreement about vetting with the Ministry won't stretch to tomorrow's article, so it won't be controlled like today's was. And it gives her another day to find out more dirt on us."
"Ah," said Draco. "Tricky. I wonder if my father could help."
"Lucius?" Harry asked.
"No, my other father," Draco answered sarcastically. "Yes of course Lucius. He has the Chief Editor of the Daily Prophet eating out of his hand."
"How did he do that?"
"Oh, Harry, you're such an innocent. Father has files on these people going back a long way. Don't look so scandalised," Draco said with mild amusement, "he doesn't even have to mention what's in them any more, they just know that if Lucius Malfoy says back off, they do. Any way, there's one upside of Skeeter not breaking the story today: we get another day of not being harassed for our relationship."
"You really think we will?" Harry asked.
"You really think we won't?" Draco rejoined, astonished. "Our friends may have accepted it, Harry; but even then, it was a struggle for Seamus, if you remember, and Blaise had to be talked round by Pansy. It's a bit much to expect the general wizarding public to be even that accommodating – there will be some who hate it because it's me, the former Death Eater daring to touch the Great Harry Potter; the Dark Lord's followers will hate the idea of the despised Harry Potter touching me, even if they do think of me as a traitor; and some will hate it because we're both men. No, the extra day is a good thing; with any luck we can get father's help to work on whatever she's said."
Harry still looked unimpressed, so Draco continued, "tell you what, let's discuss it with father at lunch. What do you want to do for what's left of this morning?"
"Good question," Harry replied. He took a moment to think before saying, "I don't feel like any more repair work today; and we won't get much done anyway," he added, noting that it was twenty to ten already. "We probably should keep a low profile after Friday's attack and the interview being published. How about visiting Andy and Teddy?"
Draco thought this was a brilliant idea, and said so. But even with this plan in place, it took a few cuddles and kisses before Harry was really ready to get out of bed. At quarter past ten they Floo-called Andromeda, who said she would be delighted for them to visit for a couple of hours.

Teddy was ecstatic to see them, and showed it in his own metamorphmagus style, by alternating between silver-eyes-and-blond-hair and green-eyes-and-black-hair so rapidly that it made everybody dizzy.
"Teddy!" Harry called to him, laughing as he picked up the little baby. "Please, just pick one look!" And, as soon as Harry had him, he stayed with green eyes and black hair, looking up at Harry and gooing and gahing for all he was worth.
They played with him for close on an hour, and the company was obviously very stimulating because at the end he fell asleep in Draco's arms – with silver eyes and blond hair now.
Once Andromeda put him to bed, she asked Penny White, the Auror who had come with them, how she took her tea; and then produced tea and seed cake for the four of them.
"Thank you, ma'am," Penny said. "Most people just treat us as part of the furniture, it's nice to be thought of."
"Da- Bother!" said Harry, stopping the swear-word just in time. "I meant to say something about that in the interview. Of course we should treat Aurors as people, even if they are on duty."
"I'm sure that will come out in the wash, sir," Penny said, adding "may I say that all the Aurors know your position on this, and we are really delighted that you speak up about it."
"You may," Harry replied, "as long as you stop calling me 'sir' and asking my permission to say things. My name is 'Harry', OK?"
"Certainly, Harry," the Auror replied, not missing a beat. "Please call me Penny."
"We all will, Penny," Andromeda replied. "And I'll add my five knuts worth: Harry, that was some article. But with a by-line of Rita Skeeter I'm sure you won't be offended if I ask, how much of it did you actually say?"
Harry looked bashful, so Draco replied, "most of it. We did have a document written by the Ministry, compiled out of all the things Harry's said in the last few months, but rewritten beautifully. A lot of what Harry said came from that, but then before that most of it came from him anyway."
"Yeah, but I never said it so well," Harry added.
"Doesn't matter," Andy replied, "you said it first. I'm very proud of you, Harry. You're not even eighteen yet, and you produce ideas that have never occurred to the Wizengamot or the Ministry. It's a breath of fresh air, and sorely needed after all that evil man did to us all. But, there, I've done it again, introduced a somber note. Let's forget all about that. Are you lunching at the Manor today?"
"Yes," Draco said, and a sly smile played on his face. Harry was oblivious to it, but Andromeda wasn't; she arched an eyebrow at him, and he surreptitiously raised a finger to his lips. Andromeda gave a tight smile of her own; and so they had an entire conversation without Harry realising a thing.

"Oh God, not again …"
He lay in bed for a few minutes, just until the world stopped spinning quite so violently; then downed the hangover potion he had somehow remembered to put on his bedside cabinet in a swift, well-practiced movement, as he wondered exactly what had happened last night. Let's see ... He'd met up with Pansy, and Millicent had tagged along, but that was all right, people would leave them alone if she was with them, and he hadn't been in the mood for a lot of socialising … Except …
"Shit!" he swore loudly, as he realised just exactly who that woman in the bar had been. What had he told her? He could remember Pansy buying him drinks, and then the newcomer had cornered him, and bought more … How much had he had? The throbbing in his head said, 'too much'. He suspected that the butterbeers had been laced with something else; he had a passing memory of shots of fire-whiskey at the end of the night after the girls had left in a huff.
There was a tapping at the bedroom window as an owl arrived with the Daily Prophet. He paid it off, crawled back into bed, and opened the paper. 'THE POTTER CODE - Harry Potter talks exclusively to Rita Skeeter' he read, and groaned. He scanned through the article until he found what he was looking for in the last paragraph: 'We'll tell all in tomorrow's Harry Potter exclusive edition of the Daily Prophet!'
"Shit!" he said again. Blaise Zabini knew he was going to be in a lot of trouble at lunchtime. And he was already going to be late …

Once more, it was a lovely day and Narcissa suggested lunching in the garden again. Blaise had Floo-called to say that he was very sorry but would be a little late, and asked them please not to wait for him; so Narcissa took them through the very elegant French doors they had been through a week earlier, but turned left instead of right, and Harry found himself being led to a different part of the garden entirely. They came around the corner of the manor, and the planting changed completely. They had walked through a very formal rose garden with box hedges into a beautiful English cottage garden.
Harry stopped dead, speechless.
"Do you like it?" Narcissa asked.
"Like it?" he asked. "It's beautiful." And then suddenly the sickle dropped as he realised that the plants were not well established and the beds looked new; this must be what Draco and Blaise had done yesterday morning.
"You did this for me?" he asked, astonished.
Draco, coming up behind him, put his arms around him, and spoke softly into his ear.
"Arthur gave Mother and I a bit of a hint that you might appreciate something like this."
Harry's eyes filled with tears as he thought of all the effort they had put into creating this special place, simply because he had told Arthur about his dream of a cottage garden. He was overwhelmed with the feeling of being loved by these people who a few weeks before had officially, if not factually, been his enemies. And he was amazed to learn that they loved him enough to bury their pride and abandon the enmity they had always had towards the Weasleys. He turned around and, for the second time that day, overcome by emotion, buried his head in the blond's shoulder.
Lucius, coming out of another set of French doors beside the garden, found a strange scene before his eyes: his wife, alone, watching the two boys clasped together.
"Is everything all right?" he asked Narcissa, very quietly, his voice concerned. Did we overdo it? He wondered to himself.
"Oh yes, I think so," Narcissa answered, equally softly. "I think Harry's just a bit overcome that we would do something like this for him."
For an instant, Lucius looked puzzled. And then the stories his wife had told him about Harry's upbringing slotted in to place, and he stepped over to the raven-haired boy, easing him from Draco's arms.
"Harry," he said, his voice soft and gentle, "Narcissa told me what you told her about those horrible people – don't worry," he added hastily, seeing the panic rising in Harry's eyes, "it's what husbands and wives do–"
"No secrets, remember," Draco murmured.
"Quite," Lucius said. "And Draco wanted to do something to show you what this family is like. How we treat people who belong. Yes, Harry, the Debt means we belong together; and this corner of the garden is yours, to show you that we mean it."
Harry blinked the tears away and looked at the Malfoy patriarch in a new light. "You're doing this for me?" he asked again. "All three of you?"
"Of course," Lucius asked; though it was a miracle he could breathe afterwards given the fierceness of the hug Harry gave him.

Blaise arrived not long after, full of apologies to his hostess and having all too obviously got dressed in a big hurry. Draco could tell all the signs; he had known Blaise for a very long time, after all.
"Just what did you get up to last night?" he asked, his tone bantering but not entirely happy.
Blaise looked a bit sheepish, and Narcissa came to his rescue. "Now, darling, let Blaise eat his lunch, please." And so they sat in the garden and ate lunch: roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, to fit with the very English garden they were sitting in. Draco decided to give Blaise a bit of time, and brought up the interview in the Prophet; Lucius declared himself full of admiration for how well Harry had handled himself, having to deal with such a formidable and feisty interviewer. Harry positively blossomed under the praise, and both Lucius and Narcissa thought the same thing to see it: the Dursleys will pay! It was just so easy to believe that he had never been praised growing up, seeing what a thimbleful of it could do to him now.
"Yes, father," Draco answered, "but what about tomorrow's article?"
Blaise blanched. "I think maybe …" He stopped, and started again. "I'm sorry. You were right, Draco, I did go out last night, with Pansy and Millicent, and we had a nice time, and much to drink, and then …"
Draco looked at him, realising exactly what had happened. "She was there, wasn't she?"
Blaise looked crestfallen. "Yes," he said, not daring to look Draco in the eye.
"Blaise," Harry said, his voice firm, "are you telling us you talked to Rita Skeeter?"
Blaise looked up. It would be cowardly not to, he decided. He had called Harry a milk-sop; he couldn't chicken out now, it would just prove what a coward he was. But when he looked into the brilliant green eyes of Harry Potter, his heart skipped a beat. He had little idea what to expect – anger for sure, maybe disappointment, maybe hatred; but he found none of these things. No, the look in Harry's eyes was the look of a friend who wanted to know how bad things were, not to know how angry to be with him, but to know what would have to be done to fix it. Blaise almost lost it to see that look. He could easily have handled being yelled at, or scolded, or even a frosty glare. But he had no idea how to deal with the love that was radiating towards him from Harry Potter.
"I did," he said, simply. "She latched on to me, and got me drunk; and I told her about the party at your house. And I think maybe I tell her what I said …" and Blaise was clearly remembering the incident; he went as red as the Gryffindor common room as he explained exactly what he had said.
"Interesting," Lucius observed. It had not escaped him what game Skeeter was playing in the Prophet article that morning; and he knew what havoc she could wreak out of ill-chosen words. Not, he ruminated to himself, that she really needed them; he wouldn't put it past her to make up half of what she wrote. Or, more likely, three-quarters.
Nonetheless, he didn't wish to prolong Zabini's discomfort. "I suggest a word with Barnabas Cuffe might be in order," he said, knowing that with a little pressure on the Editor-in-Chief, any indiscretions from Blaise could become just youthful high-jinks. "I wonder … Harry, you mentioned about Voldemort being a half-blood, would you be prepared to expand on that?"
Harry thought for a bit. He could, he decided, safely reveal the Riddle and Gaunt story; but the horcruxes and hallows should probably stay secret … the hallows … there's a thought – for another time, he decided, as Lucius was waiting, patiently, for a reply.
"Yes, I think I could; why?"
"Well, we could bully Cuffe into letting us vet Skeeter's article; but these things always go better if we can offer a quid pro quo."
As Harry looked baffled, Draco explained, "A 'quid pro quo' means something for something. Turn and turn about. Say, for example, you give then another interview discussing Voldemort's origins, and in return we get to edit Skeeter's article."
"I'm so ashamed," Blaise said, still surprised that these plans were being made to cover up his mistake. As a Slytherin, he had always expected he'd have to clean up his own messes; but clearly with Harry Potter around, the rules had changed.
"It may all be for the best," Narcissa observed. "Harry can lead an article about Voldemort's origins back to the causes of his madness, and the steps that the Potter Code might suggest to deal with them. So it becomes another opportunity to reinforce the message."
"That's brilliant!" Harry exclaimed, channeling his inner Ron Weasley. Narcissa smiled.

After lunch, Lucius took Draco and Blaise to his study to make arrangements to deal with the Daily Prophet; Narcissa looped her arm through Harry's, telling him there was something else she wanted him to see. She took him through a little gate at the side of the cottage garden. Instantly, the scene was completely different: they moved from English cottage garden to Japanese rock garden. There was no grass; instead, the ground was strewn with white gravel, raked to suggest waves in water. There was a small pavilion at the edge, and she led him there. They sat on low trestles, looking into the garden, which was surrounded by a stone wall. Set at apparently random points in the garden were large stones, some with mosses growing on them. At one end of the garden, a red bridge led out into the space beyond; behind the wall, they could see distant hills.
An intense sense of peace settled on Harry. "This is a beautiful place," he said to Narcissa. "Thank you for bringing me here."
"This garden is Draco's favourite," she said. "He loved to come here, especially when things went to Hell inside the house. The garden was warded so none of our – ah – guests could find it. Of course, he couldn't come often, or stay long."
Harry understood the oblique reference to the time they would all rather forget, and he was glad to learn that Draco had had such a place to come to for a little respite. And he could see another reason that Narcissa had for bringing him here: a reason that reminded him again how much she loved her son, yes, but also showed just how much she respected him, and wanted to help him.
They sat together in silence for a time, Harry drinking in the beauty of the garden, and the view, and Narcissa's love for her son, and her concern for him. It shook him quite a bit; but the peace of the place came into his soul, and he was grateful.
"Thank you," he said eventually, and Narcissa just smiled. She remembered the day in the Gryffindor dormitory when she had been so unsure of him. That day, that insecurity, she knew now, was long gone.

When they left the Japanese rock garden, Harry felt a change in the wards. He looked back to see the gate, and discovered that it was now barely discernable.
"Ah," said Narcissa. "The garden, as I said, could not be found by our guests; the wards are still there. I must remind Lucius to remove them."
"Why?" Harry asked. "Why not keep having a secret garden?"
Narcissa mused a little about the idea; yes, Draco would probably enjoy it, she thought. But she would get Lucius to weaken the wards so Harry, at least, could go there whenever he wanted. They owed him that.

As they walked through the cottage garden on the way back inside, they found Blaise sitting by himself at the table they had had lunch at.
"Harry," he said, standing up as soon as he saw them; Narcissa looked at him and immediately realised she was de trop here; Blaise had the look of wanting a private conversation.
"I'll see you inside," she said warmly, and went in through the French doors.
Blaise continued, grateful to Narcissa for her tact, "I want to apologize, Harry."
Harry looked at him, astonished. "What for?" he asked.
"I told tales about you. I should never do so. You are so good to me, Harry, so good to us all. We from Slytherin, we are not used to being treated so kindly by the other houses. But I know times have changed. I can see from Draco, we must work together; but I keep letting you down. My temper gets in the way; I assure you it is not deliberate, but even so, I am making things hard for you. I apologise."
"There's no need, Blaise," the green-eyed boy reassured him. "You don't 'keep letting me down'; you may have done it twice, but I'm sure we can work things out together. And Rita is impossible, I understand that; you got drunk and she took advantage."
"Yes, but I should have been smarter. I'm sorry; I seem to have brought you only pain. I wish there was some way to make it up to you."
Harry smiled; but there was something Slytherin about the smile, Blaise thought, and it wasn't exactly reassuring.
"Perhaps there is …"

Once they had finished their conversation, Blaise Flooed home and Harry rejoined the others in Lucius's study. He found that the three had been joined by four wizards. Two of them were introduced to Harry: Barnabas Cuffe, the Editor-in-Chief of the Daily Prophet, and Dempster Wiggleswade, the legal issues columnist for the paper, and employee of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There was, of course, no need to introduce Arthur Weasley or Filius Flitwick.
The two journalists cut very different figures. The Editor was a tall, very large, sandy-haired man with a ruddy complexion, a booming voice, and a bone-crushing handshake. He had, Harry decided, Presence. Which no doubt was an essential characteristic if you were going to be in charge of a rag like the Daily Prophet. The man presumably had a hide like a rhinoceros as well; Harry wondered for a moment exactly what Lucius had on the man before quickly deciding he'd rather not know.
Wiggleswade, on the other hand, though nearly as tall as his journalistic boss, was a lean, angular man, who came across as a bit fussy and pedantic. The handshake he gave Harry, while firm, was not at all unpleasant. Of the two, Harry thought, Wiggleswade was certainly the more trustworthy.
"It seems, Harry, that I was right about the article," Draco said once the introductions were concluded. "It was almost entirely written by Mr Wiggleswade; Skeeter only wrote the piece on the front page and the last paragraph, while Mr Wiggleswade wrote the rest from her notes."
"Then I must thank you, sir," Harry said. "It was a very accurate and well-written article, I thought."
"Thank you, young man," the older wizard replied, his voice quiet and incisive. "And please, call me Dempster. I'm delighted to have your approval of my writing because I was hoping to write a further article, following up on your comments about He–Who- … about Voldemort."
"Dempster works for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Harry, as well as being a columnist for the Daily Prophet," Arthur explained. "So we'd be delighted for him to interview you in his capacity as a Ministry employee and then write an article for the Daily Prophet. The article would be vetted by the Ministry, of course, to make sure that the text was appropriate for public consumption; though Dempster has always been fair in all of his articles."
"And Mr Cuffe has kindly agreed to allow us to preview and amend the article for tomorrow," Lucius said, trying hard to hide the amusement in his voice.
"Yes, well, I don't see that I have much choice," the editor began, rather huffily and self-important, but Arthur interrupted him.
"My dear Barnabus, you're getting a whole extra article from Mr Potter," he said smoothly. "And, if it goes well, perhaps the Ministry might see fit to allow you to publish some more details in the future."
"Very well then," Cuffe said, obviously understanding the implicit threat if he did not co-operate, as he produced the proof copy of Rita's article for the following morning. He tried to look disinterested, but the glint of greed in his eyes was all Harry needed to know that he desperately wanted more from them. Arthur had hit pay-dirt.
Lucius used a simple copying charm to create a copy of the document for each of them, and they sat in his study reading it. It was obvious to Harry what needed to be changed; and when they got together, it turned out that they all pretty much agreed on how the article should be amended for publication –everyone except Cuffe, of course, he quite liked it as it was; but he was immediately overruled by a simple lifted eyebrow from Lucius.
Not wanting to cause a rift and break the delicate peace they seemed to have brokered, Narcissa, who had taken longest to read, spoke up.
"I wonder, Mr Cuffe," she began, and paused just a little.
"Yes, ma'am?" he asked, falling neatly into her little trap.
"Oh, I though perhaps that the article might work particularly well, especially now with the agreed changes, if it were accompanied by a photograph of Harry and Draco?"
Again, Cuffe tried to look unaffected, but they could all see he was practically jumping out of his skin at the prospect. As it happened, the photograph of Harry, Kingsley and Elphias published this morning had been commented on by many readers; he had a swag of Letters to the Editor already in his postbox saying how nice it was to see the Saviour working together with the Minister and Chief Wizard. Most of them, to be sure, were so sickly sweet they could have been written by Umbridge, but several of them had already been earmarked for publication in the Letters to the Editor page. He could already visualise the mail from a picture of these two young and, frankly, stunningly attractive wizards gracing the front page. It didn't matter to him that the mail would probably generally express disappointment that the two were now off the market, or outrage that they were together; he was, after all, a newspaperman, anything that sold more papers and generated more interest in the Prophet was money in the bank to him.
His thoughts were interrupted by Harry saying to him, "if we're going to agree to a photograph, there's just one other thing, Mr Cuffe."
"Please, Harry, call me Barnabus," the editor rejoined, ignoring the glower he got from the older wizards at using Harry's first name.
"Well, Barnabus, I would like to ask you to stop referring to me as the 'Saviour' please."
Cuffe choked. "What?" he asked. "Why the hell would we do that?"
"Because it's not true," Harry said. "Oh, I know I killed Voldemort, and I died first, and all that. But if we keep thinking we need extraordinary witches and wizards to save us, we're not going to build the society I want to live in. We need to believe, to know, that everyone is important. Everyone matters. Everyone has a part to play in rebuilding our society."
"Sounds like you've swallowed a Ministry propaganda pamphlet, Mr Potter," the editor said, not at all pleased to hear such a well-thought-out ideology from one so young. His paper thrived on people who didn't think very much and said things that they could bend to their own agenda; it wasn't much good having people with a clear voice of their own, especially if they were backed by the Ministry.
If Cuffe had hoped to anger Harry, he failed magnificently; for the raven-haired man threw his head back and laughed at this description. "Oh, I bet Kingsley wishes I would!", he said. "But for my part, I want to go back to being a student."
The mention of the Minister had brought a laugh from all of them, and Lucius took advantage of the break in conversation to suggest to Cuffe that he organise a Prophet photographer. Narcissa, spotting that his plan was to get the editor away from the conversation altogether, suggested that he might like to come and choose a spot for the photograph in the garden, which he agreed to happily.
Once he had left, Harry turned to Flitwick.
"Is that why you're here, Professor? To discuss the school year?" he asked, turning to Flitwick.
"Not quite," the tiny wizard twittered. "Of course, that will come up eventually, but right now we need to consider your safety, Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, if you continue to work at Hogwarts, especially in light of the cowardly attack on Mr Malfoy on Friday."
"I think, Filius, it might be simpler to use first names, especially as there are three Malfoys present," Lucius interrupted.
"Very well," Flitwick agreed readily. "Harry, Draco has already accepted my apologies for what happened on Friday, and indicated that he wishes to continue to work at the Castle if at all possible. Of course, we are keen to have whatever help we can, and you are both particularly welcome, as present students, and as you have proven wonderful both for the quality of your workmanship and for the way in which you have encouraged your peers to work." Both Harry and Draco blushed under all this praise.
"Auror protection will be stepped up, and the Ministry has approved stronger wards for Hogwarts while the rebuilding continues," Arthur interjected. "With that in mind, Harry, are you happy to keep working at Hogwarts?"
Harry nodded.
"Not a word in the Prophet, though," Arthur said to Wiggleswade, sternly. "It's dangerous enough without publicising where they are."
"Understood," Dempster answered. He didn't exactly like keeping secrets from Cuffe; but he had decided long ago that his main career was at the Ministry, and he had always made it clear to Cuffe that he would not jeopardise it. To give Cuffe his due, he had seen that a willing columnist from the Ministry's Department of Legal Enforcement was a huge bonus to the Prophet, so he had accepted these terms, if not exactly happily, then at least without complaint.

The Prophet photographer arrived soon after they had finished discussing the situation at Hogwarts and Filtwick had returned to the school. The photograph was taken with Harry and Draco sitting in the cottage garden, smiling at the camera and then moving for a very chaste little kiss. Barnabus and the photographer then returned to the Prophet office with the amended text that Lucius and Arthur had written up while the photograph was being taken; and Dempster was given his interview in Lucius's study.
No doubt Wiggleswade would have liked a cosy tête-à-tête with Harry; but Arthur and Lucius practically insisted on being present, and Dempster could hardly refuse his boss's boss and his host. Much of the material Harry shared was unknown to the Wizarding world; Voldemort had hidden his origins well. He discussed the Gaunts, outlining the events he had witnessed with Dumbledore in the pensieve, and how Voldemort was descended from Salazar Slytherin through his mother, Marvolo Gaunt's daughter Merope. He discussed Tom Riddle senior, the Muggle that Merope Gaunt loved and bewitched using a Love potion. He explained how he had left her once the potion had worn off, and Tom had been taken to an orphanage and found there by one Albus Dumbledore, who brought him to Hogwarts and thus began the known history of Tom Marvolo Riddle, later known as Lord Voldemort.
And then Harry paused. "Um, I should probably discuss the dark magic that Tom did to try to become immortal; but I don't know how much should be published …"
"That's all right," said Arthur. "You tell Dempster everything and he and I will discuss later exactly what can be published and what can't."
And so Harry discussed the horcruxes, explaining how they made killing their creator difficult, as they had to be destroyed first; and that in order to create them, one had to commit murder; and the eyes of the other wizards went very wide to discover the lengths that Voldemort had gone to in his attempt to live forever. He explained how the first horcrux to be created, and the first to be discovered, was the diary that Lucius had slipped into Ginny's cauldron in her first year; and then suddenly realised who was in the room with him. But Lucius apologised profoundly to Arthur, confessing that he hadn't known the extent of its evil, or he would never have done it; and Arthur said he accepted this apology, and that Lucius acted in ignorance, and asked Harry to continue.
And so Harry discussed the remaining horcruxes. He traced the history of Slytherin's ring from the shack the Gaunts lived in to Dumbledore finding and destroying it. Likewise, he explained that the Gaunts had Slytherin's locket, which he and Dumbledore had visited the island in the cave to retrieve, which had eventually weaken Dumbledore on the night he was killed; to no purpose, as it was not there, having been at Grimmauld Place until Mundungus Fletcher had stolen it and Umbridge had taken it off him. He explained, somewhat sheepishly, about breaking in to the Ministry and retrieving it from the hated Head of the Muggle-Born Registration Commission. He explained about Hufflepuff's cup and Ravenclaw's diadem.
At this point, there came the pop of house-elf apparition, and Mappy stood there in front of them.
"Mistress is apologising to Masters for interrupting," he said warily, obviously not relishing entering Lucius's study unbidden, "but would be liking to know if Masters is wanting some tea soon?"
Lucius eyed Harry, who mouthed 'not much more' to him, so he replied to Mappy, "thank you, Mappy, please tell Mistress Narcissa that we should be finished in twenty minutes or so."
Harry was grateful for the interruption; it helped him to gather himself to tell the stories of the two living horcruxes. Nagini was easy; he slotted in the story of Snape's death as well, so they would understand just how much of a hero this double-agent had been. And he was glad again that it was someone else who had destroyed the horcrux; it only then occurred to him that he had destroyed only the diary: Dumbledore had destroyed the ring; Ron, the locket; Hermione, the cup; Vince – and wasn't that ironic – the diadem; Neville the snake; and Voldemort himself the last piece.
"Nagini was the last horcrux we destroyed, but there was one more," he said. "One that we believe Tom never knew he had created: when he killed my mother, he made one more horcrux out of the only living creature left in the house: me."
"You were a horcrux?" Arthur gasped.
"Yes," said Harry. "And so when Voldemort cast Avada Kedavra on me in the Forbidden Forest, he unwittingly killed, not me, but a piece of himself."
With that, Harry finished. He wanted to keep all the rest to himself: the hallows, meeting his parents, seeing Dumbledore in the replica of King's Cross Station; these would remain private.
Dempster, who had been making notes like mad, finally finished scribbling. "Mr Potter –"
"Harry," Harry corrected.
"Harry," the other wizard said, with a smile; Dempster had noticed how much the others had not liked Cuffe calling him by his first name, so had waited for the invitation. "This is truly amazing. I will write it up and discuss it with my superiors – Arthur, do you want me to run it by you?" Arthur nodded his consent. "Fine," Dempster continued, "and I will send you a copy of the article tomorrow night so you're aware of what will be published."
"Excellent!" Lucius said. "Mappy!"
The elf reappeared.
"Where is Mistress Narcissa planning on having tea? We are ready now."
The elf smiled, glad that he was obviously not in trouble. "Mistress Narcissa is serving tea in Master Harry Potter's garden, sirs," he said, bowing low and disapparating, not waiting for any reply.

At the tea table, Harry discovered he felt quite a relief at having gone through the story of the horcruxes in such detail, and knowing he would probably never have to again. Draco, noting that his lover seemed to be in a particularly good mood, suggested that they might go flying after tea. Harry's face lit up, but then he realised he still didn't have a broom.
"You can borrow one of mine, I have a spare" Draco said. Of course he has a spare, Harry thought, remembering the size of Draco's suite and how different their upbringings had been. But he wasn't going to let that spoil what had been, on the whole, a lovely day; so, when Dempsey went back to the Ministry to write up the transcript and Arthur went home, the two boys made their way to the field behind the Malfoy's garden and took to their brooms. Draco produced a snitch, and they spent a very happy couple of hours chasing it. When they returned to the manor, Harry was leading five-three and Draco was pleased to see that all of the angst he had had at the start of the day had vanished. He had thought of tackling Harry about the nightmares; but somehow there hadn't been time during the rather busy day, and he certainly didn't want to remind him of them now.
Narcissa didn't miss the happy face of her son's lover, either, as they came in to have a shower.
"Would you like to stay to dinner?" she asked.
"Oh, I wouldn't want to trouble you," Harry said.
Narcissa smiled at him fondly. "You never have, Harry. Please, do stay. And you're welcome to stay the night, of course."
Harry thought about this for a couple of seconds; he really did want to, he realised, especially as Draco's parents would almost certainly love to have their son home for the night; so he happily accepted Narcissa's kind offer.

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