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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
- 30
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31 Many Happy Returns
Tuesday, 2 June 1998
Harry decided that he quite enjoyed not working every morning; so over breakfast on Tuesday morning he suggested that they pay Andromeda and Teddy a visit. Draco was delighted with the idea, and Floo-called his aunt once they had finished their pancakes.
"How lovely!" she replied. "I have to go to Diagon Alley this morning, perhaps you could come with me?"
Draco wasn't sure about this; Diagon Alley was still a bit daunting for a wizard who had been attacked murderously twice in public. But he wasn't going to let that stop Harry going if that was what he wanted; if necessary, he could stay at Andromeda's house and mind Teddy for them, he thought, as Harry went to fetch one of the Aurors at the front step to accompany them.
Draco had Flooed through before Harry got back to the drawing room, so it was only when they were both there and Andromeda had bustled out to the kitchen to make the inevitable cups of tea that he discovered that the Auror with them was Robin Banks. This firmed his resolve. He knew Robin liked children, he'd heard all about him having lots of cousins from Harry when the silly name had been explained; and he liked the Auror a great deal and would welcome the chance to get to know him better. So he asked Robin if it was possible for them to stay with Teddy and send the other two off to Diagon Alley.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea," Robin said warmly. "I'd love to get to know Teddy better; and you as well. We will need another Auror for Harry, though. Hang on a minute." He turned to Harry, and explained the plan, which Harry agreed with readily, the more so when he discovered that it was Draco's idea. Harry called Kreacher, and asked him to go and ask the other Auror on duty to come through the Floo. He was not surprised when it was Toby Proudfoot who stepped through; it made sense that Aurors had particular partners, so that he and Robin would generally work together.
At this point, Andromeda reappeared, to discover the two additional men.
"I'm sorry, Robin, Toby, I rather forgot there would be Aurors," she said. "Can I get you some tea?"
"Thank you, ma'am," they said, rather gobsmacked that she had remembered their names.

Once they had finished their tea, Andromeda, Harry and Toby apparated to Diagon Alley, where they had a brief consultation about how they would spend their time. Andromeda told Harry she wanted to visit Twilfitt and Tattings as she had an important engagement on Saturday, which put a smirk on his face; he said he would visit Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, then, as he needed to have a word with George.
He was still smiling as he walked in the door. Fred was standing at the counter, and George was busy moving stock into the shop from the back room. He looked up as Harry entered, and grinned. Harry was already happy; a good start to the morning.
"Hey little brother!" George called out to him. "Nice to see a smile!"
Harry grinned even more broadly in return. "Hey, yourself!" he replied. "Though I hear straw is cheaper …"
Fred groaned at the hoary old joke, and Harry ignored him.
"Anyway, is Neville around? I was hoping for a word with the two of you."
"I'm here!" a voice called from outside the back of the shop, and Neville walked in, carrying some of his coloured bell flowers. "Special order," he said, by way of explanation. "Shall we go on up?"

Harry was amazed at how clean the twins' living quarters were; of course, his own were always perfectly clean, but he had a house-elf to do that for him. He mentioned this, and George smirked, saying "we may not have a house-elf, but we have a house-Neville."
Neville blushed, and then thumped his fiancé. Harry made a mental note not to get on the wrong side of Neville; his right hook looked particularly dangerous.
They sat down together, and Harry declined a cup of tea, having just had one; but he found soon after that he rather regretted doing so, as it meant he had nothing to distract him. He wanted to talk to George and Neville about some rather … personal … matters, and he would have been glad of something to distract him. Something, other than them, to focus on.
But he was there now, he decided; he had their undivided attention; and he wasn't going to bottle out. And so he began …
An hour later, his face only just beginning to cool down from blushing the whole time, he left the shop, having received all the advice he had wanted, and more. Neville had promised to get him all that he would require, and George had produced some toys, for mature wizards only, that weren't on public display. He agreed to come by on Thursday morning to pick everything up; that way, he could smuggle things into the house without Draco finding out.
He made a couple more stops in Diagon Alley, then went to see if Andromeda was still at Twilfitt and Tattings. She was; she explained that she had got way-laid at the baby-wear shop, having spotted some irresistibly cute baby clothes in the window. "But I'm glad you're here now, you can give me your opinion."
It took another twenty minutes before they got out of the shop (or, in Harry's thoughts, escaped); they met up with Toby Proudfoot again at Fortescue's before returning to Andromeda's house with a tub of ice-cream that Floriana insisted on giving them. To Harry and Draco's disappointment, Andromeda insisted on feeding them all lunch before they were allowed any ice-cream. Draco huffed about 'aunts being worse than mothers', but Andromeda merely laughed and replied that she certainly was.

They spent a happy afternoon at Hogwarts. By now, the major work being completed, they found themselves repairing tapestries, fixing up suits of armour, and generally working on the interior furnishings of the castle to bring them back to standard. Harry loved it; and Draco seemed to have a real flair for the work. His efforts received praise from everyone who looked at them, and while he received it with the coolness that befitted a Malfoy, Harry could tell that secretly he was chuffed.
The only downer was that Blaise was not there; it occurred to Draco that he hadn't been there on Monday either. He asked around, but even Pansy didn't know what the Italian was up to. It was strange; Blaise was normally in on anything they were doing together.
Returning home, they found another huge pile of mail awaiting them; but once more, Draco's sort-and-return-to-sender spells got rid of most of it. Kreacher reported that there had been many more howlers; but since they weren't home to hear them yell, and the house-elf seemed to quite enjoy setting fire to them, they didn't really mind. Harry did hope that the flood would die down soon; he hated that people thought he was public property and wrote to criticise his life. They should try living it, he thought.

Wednesday, 3 June 1998
It came as no surprise to Harry that Draco asked if they could spend the whole day at Hogwarts on the Wednesday. What did come as a surprise was when, over lunch, Angelina Johnson sat next to the blond.
"Draco," she said, "I've been watching you and Harry, and I've decided that you do deserve trust."
Draco blanched a little. Nothing like the direct approach, he thought. "Thank you," he said, affecting a calmness that fooled no-one.
"And I wanted to ask you if you would teach me how to do the spells you cast," she continued.
Draco went very red. Teaching Harry renovation spells was one thing. They were, after all, already close; it wasn't too hard to teach him as he already knew how to relate to him. But for someone else to actually ask him to do so, someone who didn't have any reason to trust him, that was something that touched him deeply, and he agreed at once.
By the end of the day, Angelina was being praised to the skies for the new-found quality of her spellwork; and Draco was as proud as a peacock of his new student.

Thursday,3 June 1998
Draco was quite nervous at the thought of meeting with the Deputy Minister. His confidence had not been helped by some of the 'interesting' letters that he had received the previous evening: they had been rather more negative than he would have liked. He wondered if perhaps some of the 'negative' writers had worked out what was going on and had rewritten their letters accordingly. He would, he decided, have to revisit the spell. He really didn't need people asking him if he agreed that former Death Eaters who flaunted themselves in public might not have brought attacks on themselves, nor wondering if it really was appropriate for the Ministry to take an interest in people who had shown they had nothing but contempt for society. He'd simply burnt those letters, and sent the ashes as his reply; but it was probably a pointless gesture.
Harry was getting quite exasperated; Draco had spent nearly an hour choosing the right robes, after all.
"Really, Draco, it doesn't matter. I bet Arthur won't even notice!" he insisted.
"Maybe not," the blond countered, "but I will know!"
In the end, Harry got him to the Ministry for ten o'clock, and even then at the last minute he would only go if Harry went with him. But if Draco had expected Harry to stay with him, he was disappointed; once they had Flooed in to Arthur's office, Harry bid them farewell, and Flooed out to the Leaky Cauldron before Draco could say a word.
"Draco, lovely to see you," Arthur began gently. He could see how nervous the younger wizard was, so smiled at him encouragingly and lead him over to the comfortable chairs around his coffee table, on which was waiting a tea service and a large pile of pastries. "Can I get you some coffee? Tea?"
Draco's eyes lit up as he saw the pastries; Arthur clearly had his measure! Trust a Weasley to understand food, he supposed. He happily accepted a cup of coffee, which he loaded with sugar; while he generally preferred tea, he had to admit that sweet coffee and sweeter pastries was a wonderful combination.
Arthur began by discussing recent events, and the renovations at Hogwarts; it seemed that Fred and Angelina had been for dinner at the Burrow the previous evening, so he had heard all about the spells he had taught her. "She seemed very enthusiastic about your teaching, Draco; is that a career you might consider?"
Draco was taken aback, wondering if the Deputy Minister was trying to steer him into it. But Arthur's face didn't look at all manipulative; he seemed to be genuinely interested in what Draco had to say.
"I haven't thought about that at all," he replied honestly. "What I would like to do is to get a Mastery in Potions; though as a former Death Eater I can't imagine anyone would take me on as an apprentice," he finished sadly.
"An acquitted former Death Eater," Arthur insisted. "Not all Masters out there are prejudiced against the Dark, you know. After all, Dark wizards have contributed a lot to our potions knowledge. I rather gather that Libatius Borage might be interested in taking on an apprentice next year; would you like me to have a word with him?"
Draco smiled. He well understood the value of patronage. "Thank you, Arthur," - he'd nearly said 'sir', but remembered Arthur didn't like it just in time - "I would appreciate that very much."
"Right. So, you'll be studying potions then; and I should tell you that in discussions with Headmistress McGonagall we are looking at adding a new subject, to replace 'Muggle Studies', which would include its curriculum but also broaden it out to include material about our society and other wizarding societies as well."
"That's interesting," said Draco, more politely than honestly; "what would it be called?"
"Not decided yet; something like 'Studies of Society' I suspect. It will, however, be compulsory."
Oh, Draco thought. "I see."
Arthur chuckled. "Doesn't appeal to you, I can tell. Well, we have to have some guidelines in place. Dumbledore was great in his way, but he's not there any more; and while what he did was instrumental in defeating Voldemort, we don't want to have trolls in the castle again, or students left to their own devices to solve adult problems. So, in agreement with the Headmistress, we will be trying to build a strong support structure for students, so they aren't left to their own devices as much as they have been in the last ten years or so."
Draco could see the sense in that; but there was a flip side: "but don't students need to learn how to be autonomous?"
"There, Draco," Arthur replied, "you have put your finger on the central problem of parenting. We need to be flexible and firm. We need to provide freedom and safety. It's a difficult balancing act, and we will need the eighth year students to help us get it established. So we will be relying on you, and the other returning students, to step up to a new level of maturity."
Draco wasn't sure he liked the sound of this. "What would that involve, exactly?"
Arthur looked thoughtful. "That's really up to the Hogwarts staff, I suppose. But I suspect they will want to instigate some sort of mentoring system. You know, have each eighth year responsible for a group of first years, something like that. Of course, the Ministry would expect you to be involved with that; we certainly won't put up with any 'no Death Eater will teach my child' nonsense, I assure you. No, Draco, we look on the eighth years as an integral part of this programme, and you are just as important to the success of this year as any other student."
Draco was rather stunned that so much was being expected of him and his peers, and took another pastry to avoid having to say anything in reply.
"Now," said Arthur, "another topic that will interest you: Theodore Nott."
Draco's ears pricked up. He certainly was interested in Theo. "Mmm?" he said, encouragingly, unable to say anything as his mouth was full of apple turnover.
"The Healers have confirmed that he was indeed under the Imperius curse, and he is recovering. It's a slow process, I'm afraid; he won't be ready for July and may not even make September. At the present, he, Crockford and Thicknesse are all in the same ward; apparently it's better to have them together, there's some improvement in healing when they are able to return to full health together. Well, as much as possible; as you know, Theo will never have full use of his arm again. Not that you should feel guilty about that;" – Draco did, and his face must have shown it – "it was Yaxley's fault, not yours or Harry's."
"Are you any closer to finding Yaxley?"
"Ah," said Arthur. He wondered how much Draco knew about the trap Harry had set up. "Have you and Harry discussed this?"
"Yes, he said something about setting up a 'honey-pot trap' at my birthday celebration." And then, astonishingly for a boy who had always been fixated on his birthday, he suddenly realised that it was the following day. "Which should be tomorrow! Have you set things up?"
"Yes," said Arthur, relieved that this wasn't a secret, "we have a comprehensive strategy in place, I assure you. You shouldn't have to worry about anything. Just enjoy the celebration, and we hope to surprise Yaxley and make the arrest early in the evening."
"Well, I'll try," Draco said, concerned. It was all very well that they hoped for surprise, but Draco had the uncomfortable feeling that he was the honey in this particular trap, which was not a pleasant thought at all. He returned to the subject of their studies, asking if the term dates had been decided.
"Yes," Arthur replied, retrieving a piece of parchment with dates written all over it from his desk, "let me see now … eighth year students will be moving into the Tower from the first of July; first term classes will be starting on Monday the sixth; there'll be ten weeks of teaching followed by a week of revision, which takes us to Friday the eighteenth of September. Then you'll have two weeks holiday, and then another term the same, starting on the fifth of October and finishing on the eighteenth of December. Next year," he said, turning over the page, "term three starts on the fourth of January and exam week starts on the twenty-second of February. So there you are, all decided. But of course you'll get a letter detailing all of this; was there anything in particular that you wanted to know?"
"Well, I wanted to know the holidays; I guess I'm hoping that Harry and I …" And at this point, Draco's confidence seemed to run out, and his voice trailed off.
Arthur smiled. Harry had had a chat about just this subject, quietly, on Sunday, and he knew exactly when Harry had in mind. In fact, Arthur had suggested the date to him. But clearly, Draco didn't suspect a thing about that, and Arthur was rather proud that he had managed to keep a Slytherin in the dark. But Draco was still floundering for words, and Arthur decided to help him out.
"… might need a date for a celebratory event?" he supplied.
"Um, yeah," Draco replied, not sure if he was getting too forward. He loved Harry so much; he wanted to be bonded to him legally, but he didn't really know Harry's thoughts. He knew that Harry's fears about the Debt were receding; so it helped if he knew what dates were in play.
"I think you might find the twenty-sixth of September is an appropriate date," Arthur said, with a twinkle. "But now! It's nearly lunch-time, I wonder where Harry has got to?"
And, as if on cue, the Floo roared into life, and Harry stepped through. He smiled at his lover.
"All done?" he asked.
"Yes, thanks, Harry," Arthur replied. "I think you'd better take Draco away and feed him a good lunch to help him get over the ramblings of an old man."
Draco snorted. "Thank you, Arthur, on the contrary, I've really enjoyed this chat. Um, were you planning on meeting regularly? Your owl made it sound lke this was a permanent fixture."
"During June, I think it would be good to meet weekly, if Harry can spare you," Arthur replied. "Once we get to term-time, of course, things will be more complicated; but we can discuss that when we get there. Are you happy with that, Harry?" he asked, turning to his adopted son.
"That's fine, of course," Harry replied. "But I think I will take him off to lunch now."

They discussed where to go for lunch. Draco was rather distracted, so Harry suggested it might be a good idea to might duck into a restaurant for a quick meal, rather than bother with the trip home, or going to Hogwarts where there would be more people. But Draco was still rather shy of being seen in public, so they went to Hogwarts for lunch. Harry could tell that there was something bothering the blond and as they sat down, Draco decided to come straight out with it.
"Well, guys, I hope you're getting me nice presents for tomorrow?"
"What's so special about tomorrow, Draco?" Neville asked, with a twinkle in his eye.
"Oh nothing," said Draco, affecting a modesty they all knew perfectly well he did not possess. "Just the small matter of my birthday. Am I having a party, Harry?"
The question was asked diffidently, apparently as an afterthought; but Harry knew perfectly well what his lover was fishing for. And he certainly wasn't about to give it to him.
"That depends, Draco," he answered; "have you organised one?"
Draco looked daggers at him. Harry had better have organised something, the look said. "When would I have done that?" he asked.
"Don't know," Harry replied, piling chicken curry onto his plate. "When would I?"
Draco didn't really have anywhere to go after that; there was, of course, no reason why Harry should organise anything. On the other hand, Arthur had as good as promised that there was going to be a party …
While he was debating with himself, the conversation moved on to what they would be doing that afternoon, and he found himself kept busy the whole time from then on.

Friday, 5 June 1998
Draco Malfoy was very unhappy. Harry had woken him with a lovely kiss, it was true, and said "happy birthday" very nicely. He had been served breakfast in bed, and it had been pancakes, and they had fed each other, and it was very enjoyable, even if Harry did have to perform cleaning charms on the bedsheets. But it wasn't a present.
Harry had got his robes ready for him, and run him a bath, and let him take an hour over his grooming without whinging once. It was lovely. But it wasn't a present.
His mother had Floo-called to wish him a happy birthday from her and his father. They couldn't get his present to him just yet, it was too big to take from the Manor; so would he call tomorrow before they went to dinner at Molly's to collect it? Which was nice, and was at least the promise of a present. But, nonetheless, it was not a present.
Harry had asked him what he wanted to do that morning, and he'd immediately said "open presents". But apparently he wasn't allowed to do that. Nor, it seemed, was he allowed to go back to bed and sulk. Honestly! What was the point of asking him what he wanted to do if they weren't going to do it?
But eventually he decided that they had neglected their work on Grimmauld Place long enough, and they spent the morning happily on further renovations. By lunchtime, the ground and first floors were finished, leaving only the bedrooms and bathrooms upstairs needing more work.
"Excellent job," Harry said happily. "Thank you for your help."
"Of course. And just in time to have a party," Draco commented. "One with presents."
"We'll see," was all the reply he got, before they Flooed to Hogwarts for lunch.

At least at lunch he found that there was a cake waiting for him. It was a nice surprise. But it wasn't a present.
"I hope you have more surprises for me later," he said to Harry.
"Oh, I'm full of surprises," Harry replied, with a smirk.

Once they had finished at Hogwarts, they Flooed back to Grimmauld Place. Draco came out of the Floo, expecting to find a surprise party waiting for him in the drawing room, espeically as Harry yelled, "surprise!"
But the house was empty.
"What's the surprise?" he asked.
"Well," said Harry, "this surprise is that there's no surprise. But I'm not out of surprises, not by a long chalk."
"What are we doing this evening?" Draco asked again, and Harry smirked at him. Again. But he still wasn't offering Draco a present.
"I'd like to take you to dinner," he said. "You'll want to wear some nice robes; you should find something suitable in your room."
They went upstairs to change. Draco entered 'his' room to find a new set of robes laid out on the bed. At last! A present! He put on the silver shirt and black dress pants, and looked in the mirror. If Harry had chosen these, the Gryffindor's taste in clothes had improved immeasurably. The robes were very simple and elegant, a no-nonsense very dark green. Draco smirked at this simple appropriation of Slytherin colours; it had his mother's touch written all over it, but the overall effect, he thought, was stunning.
"Do you like them?" he heard Harry ask, and the insecurity in his voice was palpable.
"Harry," he said, coming out of the room, "they're …"
But whatever he was going to say was completely lost as his eyes met Harry, dressed in the new robes he had bought while Draco was at the Ministry the day before. The raven-head was wearing a beautiful peacock-blue shirt and black dress trousers, together with robes in the same dark green as his own, and the effect made Draco's mouth go completely dry.
"They're …?" Harry prompted.
"Never mind," said Draco, as he strode over to his lover and almost swallowed his lips in a kiss.
"Wow!" Harry said, once they had disengaged and some feeling had returned to his face. "That was amazing…"
"Well, what do you expect if you strut around looking drop-dead gorgeous?" the blond asked.
"Really?" Harry asked.
"Really." Draco answered. "Harry, I love both sets of robes."
"Thanks," Harry said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Your mother helped me choose them, but still…"
Draco smirked. His instincts had not betrayed him, it seemed.
"Well," he said, "where are we going?"
And now it was Harry's turn to smirk. "Well, to begin with," he said, then paused to maintain the suspense; "… the drawing room."

Harry managed to say the destination very quietly, so Draco didn't hear; so it came as a complete surprise when he came out of the Floo into a beautifully laid out reception area.
"Good evening, Monsieur," a tall elegant man, obviously the maitre d'hôtel, greeted him. "Mr Malfoy, I believe? Dining with Mr Potter?"
As their host said this, Harry fell out of the Floo – you couldn't put it any other way; and Draco, who understood well his lack of grace in Floo travelling, caught him without any sign of fuss, and if the maitre d'hôtel noticed anything, he was far too polite to comment.
"Yes, thank you," Harry answered, not missing a beat.
"Excellent! Welcome, gentlemen. Your garden awaits."
"Garden?" Draco asked, comprehension beginning to dawn on his face.
"Yes, indeed," the maitre d' said. "Welcome, Mr Malfoy, to Le Jardin Magique."

They were shown into their dining room. It took Draco's breath away; he was standing in a Japanese rock garden, modelled, he could see, on the zen temple garden of Ryoan Ji, in Kyoto, Japan. He knew it from all of the research he had done before making his own garden at the Manor. It was arranged just as he had seen it often enough in pictures: a simple arrangement of a large rectangle of white gravel, with, he knew, fifteen weather-beaten stones inset in five groups. Around the back, a low wall ran, with a tiled roof on top; and above the roof he could see cherry blossom.
It was beautiful. Simply, starkly, beautiful. He turned to Harry and could tell at a glance that the raven-haired youth was very nervous. Draco simultaneously loved and hated this. He hated that Harry was so unsure of himself: he had done an amazing job to get this garden organised, and to keep it a secret until now. And he loved it that Harry didn't take Draco's response for granted.
"Harry," he said at last, when he got his breathing under control, "it's beautiful."
"You think so?" Harry said, his voice teetering on the brink of relief. "You like it?"
"No," Draco said, "I love it."

Their dinner was exquisite. Even Draco, used to fine dining, was amazed at what the chef had been able to do with quails and truffles. They had chatted about the week gone, and the plans for the term; and Draco finally managed to weedle out of Harry that there was going to be a celebration, tomorrow. As Draco knew that they were due at the Burrow for dinner, he guessed that it must be there. He would probably have preferred the Manor, but really, if Harry had gone to so much trouble to organise everything, he wasn't going to criticise.
Dessert was served under a cloche in the centre of the table. When Harry lifted it, there was a box underneath; the sides made of thin slabs of white chocolate, and filled with chocolate ganache, chocolate mousse, and a light strawberry cream, in layers. There were two spoons; and by unspoken consent, they fed each other. It was truly amazing; and by the time they had finished, and Harry had put the cloche back on top of the now sad-looking box, Draco felt very full and entirely satisfied.
He looked over the garden, trying hard to count all the stones; but he could only see fourteen. He remembered that you weren't supposed to see all fifteen unless you had achieved enlightenment, and explained this to his dining companion.
Harry chuckled. "Guess I'm just unenlightened, then."
Draco smiled in return, and they sat together in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, looking at the simple garden in front of them. Harry found, after a while, that its very simplicity gave it a beauty he hadn't expected. It was completely different from his cottage garden; but he could see why Draco loved it.
"Thank you, Harry," Draco said, softly, interrupting his thoughts.
"What for?" Harry asked, having an idea, but wanting to hear it from him.
"For everything. For organising this beautiful garden. And this incredible meal. For managing to keep it a secret."
"It was a good secret, right? Narcissa said that was all right…" Harry said, worry about keeping secrets in his voice.
"No, Harry, not all right; brilliant. Perfect. Yes, a good secret."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. "That's not all," he said, and lifted the cloche. Underneath, instead of the remains of their dessert, there was a beautiful velvet-covered box. Harry picked it up and opened it, to reveal a platinum ring, inset with emeralds and diamonds.
"Draco, I know five weeks ago we were best enemies, and we've only been living together for two; but I also know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to marry you, Draco. Will you be my husband?"
Draco could not speak. There were no words good enough, he decided; he took the ring and put it on his finger, then they both stood and rushed into each other's arms. Tears flowed freely as they each accepted the other's love, now both entirely certain in their own minds that this was what they really wanted.
And finally, Draco found his voice.
"Oh, yes, Harry!"

When they got back to Grimmauld Place, Draco wondered if there would be another surprise; a party there, perhaps? But no-one was waiting for them. The house was quiet; and only dimly lit. Draco wondered at this; the lamps usually gave plenty of strong light, but this was a different kind of light altogether, flickering, tentative.
All was explained when they reached their room. As he walked in, Draco found their bed surrounded by candles and strewn with rose-petals.
"Harry?" he asked.
"Draco," came the answer. "I was hoping … I've been wanting for a while .. would you make love to me?"
Draco looked at him. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I mean, I know how worried you are about the debt and everything; but that would be the best birthday present ever …"
"Well," said Harry, "I guess we just have to get used to the debt. So, I want to if you do."
In answer, Draco started to remove his robes, but this was too slow for Harry; with a simple wave of his hand, the robes went into their cupboards, and they were both standing naked beside the bed. Draco, filled in equal parts with admiration for Harry's magical strength and desire for his body, gave out a low moan, and moved him back onto the bed.

They lay together in bed, naked, and Draco touched him, caressed him, murmured sweet words into his ear, and Harry was swept away in the moment. He was grateful to George and Neville for their advice; he used the charms they had told him, and the necessary preparation. Draco was sweet and gentle, taking his time, making sure his lover was truly ready; and when his fingers entered Harry's body …
Oh Merlin! "Yes, Draco, yes!" he yelled, pleasure and desire running through his veins, filling him with an aching want to feel his lover inside him. And as they made love, he felt his magic reach out, swirling around him, and saw green tendrils reaching out, and silver bands of magic coming from Draco; and as they met, they seemed to be tied together with a thin red band. Then, as they came to completion, Harry felt all his angst about the Debt slip away, and an aching loneliness he had never known was there, because it always had been, slipped away with it, and he felt comforted and loved like never before as Draco's strong arms and hot body encompassed him, and for the first time in his life he surrendered fully to the love of another person.
There were no words, just cries without words. There were no distinct feelings, just a throb of love between them. It felt as if they weren't even really two any more: they had become a single organism, their hearts beating as one. Harry felt like he did when he was flying, that feeling of being totally free from the world, as if he had slipped out of time and space altogether, living in a moment, a bubble of freedom suspended on the edge of reality. He could no longer move; it was as though his bones were no longer solid, but now liquid. He felt the magic and the giddy freedom coursing through his veins, warming him, like liquid fire: nothing else could feel so hot. Draco held him close, caressing him, still making sounds, but Harry had no idea what they were. He knew what they meant, though: they were one. They now belonged to each other. He held Draco, their passion weaving them together as surely as their magic had.
Finally, after a minute, or an hour, or a day, who knew how long, Harry spoke.
"You're mine, Draco. I never want to let you go. I love you. Happy birthday."
And the blond, sated and spent, kissed him in agreement. "I am yours," he agreed, "and you are mine. Thank you for the most wonderful birthday ever. Sleep now, my love."

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