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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
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3. Returning to Life
Fred Weasley had been rather enjoying the Battle of Hogwarts. It was utterly mental and chaotic, which suited his style to a tee. Then Percy had come and fought alongside him. He couldn’t have guessed how much that would mean to him. Percy had even made a joke about resigning from the ministry! Percy! A joke!
He’d always said that when Percy made a joke, the world would end. And then, of course, for him, it had. Fate, it seemed, had a wicked sense of irony. One little explosion, he mused, could ruin your whole day. Here he was then, dead, and suddenly he wasn’t enjoying things half so much. He could just see his family beneath him, gathered around what must be his dead body. There were his parents, wailing; of course they would, he couldn’t fault them for that, even if it was embarrassing. There was his twin, Holey-Head George, beside himself with grief, and Fred shuddered as he realized that the two who had never been apart before could never be together again. There were a few other people gathered around, Hermione Granger of course, comforting his little brother, “poor ickle Ronnikins”; and Neville Longbottom, and …. Hang on a minute, what was that look on Neville’s face? Fred knew that look -- he’d practised it enough; like a love-sick cow, he thought. Neville had fallen for someone, hard. He followed his line of sight and saw who Neville was fixated on. Hmm, he thought, his mischievous matchmaking coming to the fore. Yep, that’ll work. He longed to be there to give a helping hand.
But he couldn’t be there. So, he might as well be here, then. He had a bit of a look round. As he did so, the place seemed to shimmer and change; and then he recognised it. It was quite a shock to see that he was in Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, his shop – well, his and George’s -- though it was cleaner and brighter than he had ever known it. Or was it the shop? No, it couldn’t be. His shop would be filled with noise and people. This place was so very like it, but empty and quiet.
He looked round, but only confirmed that there was no-one about and nothing much of interest to see. The door at the back of the shop began to glow, and suddenly he knew he was supposed to go through it. And he knew for certain that once he did, he was never coming back. The grief that was still with him for the loss of his brother overwhelmed him, and he fell to the floor, sobbing. He knew he had to go on. But not yet.
Later – he had no idea how much later, there was no clock, and nothing much seemed to happen, so there was no way to get a sense of time – he cocked his head. Something was about to happen. He could feel it. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen. But things that weren’t supposed to happen were his forte, his reason for being, so a delicious sense of anticipation rose up in him. He stood up, just as the shop was suddenly filled with light. He’d thought it bright before, but that was nothing compared to this, and reflexively he shut his eyes as a feeling of warmth flooded into him.
And suddenly he was on his back. On a hard floor. A cold, hard, very uncomfortable floor. The shop’s floor was wood, but this was much harder – stone, perhaps? Yes, it had to be stone. He could feel the edges of the individual flagstones that made up the floor poking into him.
He could feel. That was different. He pulled himself up. “Who had the bright idea to put me here on this cold, hard floor?” he whinged.
There was absolute silence for a couple of seconds. Then all hell broke loose.

If Fred had ever wondered what it would be like to be drowned in quicksand, he thought, he now knew. The family had hugged him so tight he was afraid he might die all over again. Molly was in tears, of course, shouting and hooting incoherently. His normally calm and quiet father was just about jumping out of his skin with excitement, and his siblings were no better. But the most important, by a long way, was George, who had wrapped his arm around his twin with an unspoken promise never to let him go again. It touched Fred more than he would ever be able to say.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was there too, drawn by the commotion no doubt, and saw that Fred was being swamped, so helped George get him on his feet. Kingsley seemed to have taken in what had happened without needing to ask lots of questions, and Fred was really glad for that as he was swaying a bit and probably couldn’t have managed a conversation. He was grateful for the two men holding him up and not asking questions as his circulation sorted itself out and the pins and needles he’d felt while getting up started to fade.
Then things started to quiet down a bit. After all, even the Weasleys could only be euphoric for so long. Sooner or later, they’d have to take stock of the things going on around them. The bubble was well and truly burst when Ron happened to look round and spy something on the other side of the hall. He bellowed.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING TO HARRY, FERRET?”
With that, the family, including Kingsley, seemed to charge over. Fred took the opportunity to stand up tall and stretch himself a bit, and grabbed Neville before he could rush off too.
“Just a little word, mate,” he said. Then, as his twin was still clinging to him for dear life, “George, you go on, I just want a quick word with Neville here, OK?”
George didn’t look too sure, but left anyway. When he got over to the others, he looked back to see Fred and Neville coming along too. Fred had a huge grin on his face, and Neville looked as red as a beetroot. George thought he looked adorable, and wondered how Fred had got him like that. Probably talking about sex, that’d do it. A story for later. He looked at his brother, then arched his eyebrow at the screen as they both had the same thought.
“Quick, Neville, Kingsley, hide behind here. Don’t want to give the game away too soon,” Fred hissed, and so the three of them crounched behind the silk screen Draco had conjured and listened to Harry telling about the words he’d used to fix things.
“Life… “ Harry said. Fred chuckled to himself very quietly. You have no idea what that’s done, mate! He looked over at his brother, who had an identical grin to his. As always.
“Wholeness…” And suddenly, Fred realized that George wasn’t a Holey-Head any more. The ear that had been cut off by a Death-Eater on Harry’s birthday was now as good as new. Fred was gobsmacked. The ear had been removed by a very powerful curse, and no-one had had the magic to restore it. But by the sound of it, Harry had managed to. It figured.
He’d missed a bit while he’d been noticing this. Lucius was saying something about a “House something” shield. He couldn’t quite follow it, but his father looked all ears. He’d quiz him later.
Then it got around to hugs and stuff, and Harry noticed that George’s ear was healed. Fred couldn’t hide any longer. “That’s not the half of it,” he said, and went in front of the screen.
He’d hoped to surprise Harry. Shock would be nearer the mark. If the boy smiled any wider, his head would split in two. Actually, that wasn’t such a nice image. Best just to concentrate on his ‘little brother’ then. He grabbed him into a huge hug. George joined in; it was wonderful.

“While it is amazing that Fred has somehow been restored to us, …” Kingsley started. Fred and George both groaned inwardly; he was going to be all politician-speak, they just knew it. They let go of Harry, and sat down. They both managed to sit on the same bench, rather than ask Draco Malfoy to conjure another seat.
Harry went back to the chaise longue.
“Do you mind if –“ he started.
“Oh,” said Draco, expecting Harry to be embarrassed to sit with him, and finding himself annoyed by it, “You want me to conjure you a chair, I take it?”
“Um, no, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I sat with you.”
Draco was stunned. He didn’t trust his voice at all, and merely signalled his agreement. Harry sat down next to him. The two former enemies should have found it very awkward; but in truth they both felt it had been uncomfortable to be apart, and better when seated together; though they would both have died rather than admit it to the other.
None of the Weasleys seemed to notice this little exchange, but it did not go unremarked entirely. Lucius Malfoy was watching them carefully and, though his face had its mask, with interest that was obvious to Hermione Granger. More than ever, she wanted to get him alone in the Manor and discuss just exactly what was going on between the two boys. Lucius knew a lot more than he was letting on. And just what was this Haussmann shield all about?
Oblivious, Kingsley continued: “As Acting Minister of Magic, I do have to make some plans to go on with.”
He was looking particularly at Lucius Malfoy as he went on, “Obviously there will be inquiries and trials and formal process; for the moment though, we do have to consider safety – both yours and the wider Wizarding world’s. We can’t allow people bearing the dark mark to wander about freely, it would send entirely the wrong message.”
‘You don’t have to,” Lucius said, softly. He rolled up his sleeve to expose his marked arm. Except it wasn’t. The mark had entirely gone. Harry gasped, and looked at Draco, whose eyes went wide as he too rolled up his sleeve.
There was no mark on his arm.
Kingsley let out a low whistle, and turned to Harry. “Looks like you’ve done it again, Harry.”
Harry was stunned. After Kingsley’s comment, everyone was looking at him, and he felt like a museum exhibit in glass jar. All of his life, attention had been a bad thing. The Dursleys would beat him if he got their attention. The press (Rita Skeeter came to mind) would berate him. His teachers (and in his mind he saw Umbridge’s toad-like face) would belittle him. No, he didn’t want the attention.
What had he done now? And what could he do about it? All he had wanted was to give the Malfoys back their magic. It had seemed just the obvious and right thing to do. But somehow it had gone beyond that. He hadn’t thought much about the future, not expecting to survive, but if he did, he’d hoped to go back to The Burrow with the Weasleys and have a quiet life. He’d sort of assumed he and Ginny would get back together and get married, the Malfoys would go off and do their thing, and they’d maybe nod heads on the railway platform when they sent their children to Hogwarts.
But like everything with him, it had all escalated way out of control. He couldn’t work out what to do. He didn’t know what to say, how to answer, and all of the stress of the last few days with little food and no sleep while being chased by Death-Eaters and trying to keep everyone safe was catching up with him. He started to say something – anything – but all that came out were sobs. He dissolved into incoherence as tears ran down his face, and then strong arms wrapped him up and someone was making soothing noises and mercifully he slipped out of consciousness again.

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