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
- 32
- 33
- 34
33 Returning to their True Friends
As Draco had come out of the house and walked back into the garden, the watcher knew that this was the moment. The tension in his body was so tight he wondered that all the guests at the party didn't hear it. He watched the blond, accompanied by that Parkinson bitch, walk over to the tree. They were sure that the blond boy traitor was going to do that. Blaise had gone over the plans with them in detail: Draco was to stand by the tree, Narcissa would then light the candles and bring the cake out through the French doors and place it on the table in the cottage garden. 'Potter's garden', apparently. How soppy! But it lent a nice touch to the proceedings he thought; despatching Draco in the very garden that the traitorous family had given his ... fiancé. The word sounded abominable, even in his mind. The world will definitely be better off without this filth, he thought.
But they hadn't counted on Draco having company at this point; he was supposed to be alone to receive the cake and applause, that was the pure-blood tradition. If that girl didn't move soon, she might be a threat to the plan. They didn't have much time; Potter was sure to appear and walk back over to him soon. And they had to get Draco while Harry wasn't there; they knew that penetrating the shield was impossible. MacNair had been all for just casting Avada Kadava and being done with it; but he was sure that the wards would not permit the words to be spoken. The Ministry might be staffed with fools; but there were still some competent Aurors. Not so many, though, he thought, remembering how they seemed to have overlooked completely the fact that the wards were still set to allow Voldemort's Death Eaters through, a very useful hangover from the Wizarding War. Auror Barnes had been most helpful in this respect. He had ensured that Lucius was never consulted about, nor allowed to touch, the wards; and he had hidden the little rift in the wards that they had used to get through, so that only a truly clever Auror would ever have found it.
His thoughts broke off abruptly as he saw that, happily, the bitch had moved; Parkinson was now walking over to the refreshments table, obviously in search of drinks. Excellent. Potter walked out of the French doors and was now looking over to Malfoy. Perfect. The Boy Who Lived was now in prime position to watch his boyfriend's death.
"STUPEFY!" a voice yelled. Blaise's voice, he thought, an evil grin passing across his face.
"CONFRINGO!" A deeper, older voice. MacNair. They were right on time.
"SECTUMSEMPRA!" he yelled, and the air filled with magic as the three curses pulsed together, heading for the blond, who stood still, seeming stunned by the sound of the spells.

It only took half a second for him to know that something had gone badly wrong. Potter was still standing on the step, looking towards Malfoy, to be sure; but the latter was no longer visible. Instead, surrounding the blond was a cloud of light. Green, and silver, and red strands swirled around him, pulsing ominously, full of power and possibility. It quite took the watcher's breath away. And then the light streamed out, seeming to seek the three spell-casters. The watcher activated his portkey, but it failed completely as the light struck him and he found himself in the grip of strong magic, holding him, binding him, stopping him from speaking or casting any spell; even moving was beyond him now. He could only watch.
SHIT! Everything they had read said that the shield would only be produced if the two of them were physically touching. And yet here it was, more powerful than the last time he had seen it, even though Potter was on the step, nowhere near Malfoy …
Potter. He looked across at the raven-haired man. All of a sudden, as he watched in horror, the spell faded, and the enemy's strategy became plain to him. He had been played; the biter had been bit. The one whom he had courted and turned traitor had turned out to be playing a double game. For there, standing on the step, was not Harry Potter, but Blaise Zabini.
The coloured shield started to fade from view, and he could see that Malfoy had been joined by Potter. The two were kissing each other! A wave of revulsion coursed through him at the sight. As he looked back at Zabini on the step, he saw exactly the same emotion portrayed on that man's face, and wondered what was going on. Was Blaise perhaps also disgusted by this unnatural liaison? But then he realised that Zabini was not looking at Malfoy and Potter. His revulsion was directed, not at the couple kissing under the oak tree, but at the three attackers, the ones who had tried to kill Draco Malfoy. He had never seen such a look of pure distaste, and then hatred; not even Voldemort had been so fiercely and implacably set against his enemies. In that instant he knew that Zabini had never, not for one moment, been on his side. He had been a double agent from the very beginning. All of Yaxley's plans now lay open, exposed, betrayed. The careful trap he had set for the Malfoy brat turned out to be a trap set for him; and he had walked straight into it.Harry had put his hand on Draco the moment that Pansy had walked away from them. He had been trusting that they would not attack before the blond was, or seemed to be, alone; and the invisibility cloak was proving its usefulness once again. He heard the curses being sent and a part of his brain noted that it was the same three spells as last time, and wondered why; there must be some reason for those three particularly, you wouldn't choose them at random twice, especially since the first time had failed. But mostly he was caught up with the incredible feeling of magic as it pulsed through him. The shield sprang into being, more colourful than ever, swirling around them. It was much stronger than last time; the Sectumsempra did not bounce off this time as the shield had no problem absorbing all three curses, and he directed the magic out towards the three curse-makers. Without even needing a conscious command, the magic seemed naturally to follow back along the lines that the curses had come, and impounded each person in a prison of pure power. As this was happening, he pocketed the cloak; the fewer people who knew about it, the better. And then he grabbed his lover.

"I'm so sorry we had to do that," he said softly, his lips seeking Draco's. "I never want you in that much danger again."
"It's all right, Harry," Draco answered. "I signed up for it, remember?"
They kissed; and a huge wave of relief washed through them as they knew that the threat that had been hanging over them for weeks was now gone. They stood there, kissing, as the shield came down and a huge cry of relief and joy went up as their friends and family saw that they were together and unharmed.The three were caught up in cocoons of magic, now pulsing with white light. The forms of Yaxley and MacNair were clearly visible now; the hoods they had worn pulled back and the Notice-Me-Not charms drained. The third cocoon was not quite so clear. The form inside seemed to be shifting between two different shapes.

"That's Blaise!" Pansy gasped.
And then the poly-juice finally failed, yielding to the powerful magic Harry had unleashed, and the form that had looked like Blaise Zabini resolved into a different wizard altogether. Marcus Flint stood, unmasked, silent because of the magic holding him, but shaking with rage at being caught.The Auror response was swift; everything had been set up beforehand. Yaxley and MacNair were taken away immediately; as they had already been tried and found guilty of war crimes, they could be taken straight to Azkaban, and no formal courtesy was needed, or offered, as three Aurors swiftly marched the two of them away to the Floo point.

Flint, however, was another matter. As he had not yet been tried for previous attack on Draco, his guilt, though evident, was not, in the eyes of the law, proven. As he was already formally under arrest, he was now formally arrested for this new attack, and taken back to the Ministry holding cells.
Just before he could be taken away, while the other two were being dealt with and marched away and the Slytherin was still cocooned by magic, Harry walked up to him, his mind full of questions; but there was one above all he wanted answered.
"Why?" he asked.
"Why what?" came the surly reply.
"Why attack Draco?"
Flint's eyebrows shot up. Did Potter really think he was going to tell him anything? "I don't have to tell you!" he spat out.
"No," Harry said, as two Aurors came to take him into custody. "But I had hoped you might want to. I'm sorry, Marcus."
"Don't you call me that, Potter!" the prisoner snarled. "I don't want your pity!" And with that, he was led away.
Draco came up and wrapped his arms around Harry. He could feel the guilt that was throbbing through Harry; hell, he felt the guilt when he was still walking towards him.
"I know what you're thinking, Harry, and it's not true. Yes, we set him up for this; but he chose to go through with it. Be glad that we were able to draw his fire, OK? He attacked us, and we were ready for it, instead of attacking some poor sap who didn't have the ear of the Ministry."
"I suppose you're right, Draco," Harry replied. "Perhaps there really is a good way to use my fame to actually achieve something."
And Draco thought that if he had finally got Harry to accept that, it was already an excellent evening's work.It was all over inside two minutes. Flint had barely gone when Narcissa and Molly brought the cake out; they were determined not to let a small matter like the guest of honour being attacked by homicidal maniacs spoil the party. Everyone else seemed to take up the cue, and within minutes they were back congratulating Draco and Harry, drinking champagne and eating birthday cake.

Harry and Draco circulated. They too were determined to enjoy themselves and to take the evening's events in their stride. One thing that Draco was particularly concerned about was to make sure that everyone understood the role that Blaise had played in their little charade. To this end, he took all of their schoolmates together into a corner of the big marquee that had been erected on the lawn, and he and Harry explained the whole story to both Gryffindor and Slytherin alike (and the solitary Ravenclaw, Luna Lovegood).
"We need you to understand exactly what Blaise has done for us," Draco began.
"So he's not a traitor?" Pansy asked, and Blaise blushed a deep red at the directness of the question.
"Not at all," Harry insisted. "Blaise was very helpful in setting up this party – and in keeping it a secret from Draco. After Skeeter's article came out last Sunday, I realised that we could use Blaise's comments to our advantage. I suspected that, given Blaise's comments, Yaxley might well approach him and ask for his help; and Blaise agreed to work as our spy with him."
"Yaxley did ask me for help, not till Tuesday, though," Blaise said. "I don't know if he trusted me till then, but the article helped, and Harry told me to visit pubs and bad-mouth him some more."
Draco smirked at the thought of Blaise playing the agent like this. He was sure that he would have done a magnificent job; apart from being an angry drunk, Blaise was exceptionally good at the Slytherin trait of keeping his true feelings hidden.
"I went under a glamour, and he found me."
"Not so good a glamour," Pansy interjected.
"No, it wasn't supposed to be. So anyway, I convinced him that I had gone to ground and didn't want Draco to know where I was this week, because I was embarrassed by the article. I told him that Draco would not be surprised if I was here for the party; he would know I couldn't resist. So I told him about the date, and the wards, and explained about the cake and garden. He believed everything I said; he had cornered me in the bar, and dropped veritaserum in my drink."
"Of course," Draco cut in, "the irony is that you lied to Yaxley by telling him the truth." He turned to the others, explaining further, "everything Blaise said was true; and everything he said was designed to push Yaxley the way we wanted him to go."
"And he didn't ask me if I was spying for Harry, only for Draco," Blaise continued. "And I knew Draco knew nothing of what I was doing, so I could truthfully say so," Blaise continued. "When Yaxley told me Draco was the real target and asked if I would cast the hex, I didn't have to pretend at all; I told him no way would I hurt my friend, and he took some of my hair for the poly-juice and told me to disappear and not let any of you find me."
"Since then, he's been staying here all week, kept secret by Ministry wards, which, by the way, are a lot stronger than Yaxley believed," Harry continued. "Then, when Flint turned up, poly-juiced as Zabini, we took a strand of my hair, and Blaise took some poly-juice himself so he could pretend to be me, while I hid behind the oak tree and waited for Yaxley and his minions to strike."
"What a brilliant plan!" a voice said behind them. Harry gasped. He would never find Rita Skeeter pleasant; nor her voice; nor, above all, her prodigious talent for turning up exactly when she was not wanted.
"Rita!" he hissed.
"Lovely to see you, too, Harry," she replied cooly. "I do hope you'll give me an exclusive?" she said, batting her eyelids and giving what was no doubt supposed to be a winsome smile.
At this point, Kingsley Shacklebolt walked in.
"Miss Skeeter," he boomed. "What a - pleasant - surprise." His tone made it quite clear that it was anything but. "I do hope that you aren't trying to force yourself on these nice young people – after all, this is a private party, and I believe I am right in thinking you weren't invited?"
"I don't think she's doing any harm, Minister," Luna said, and everyone except Skeeter turned and looked at her as if she'd just suggested they pose nude for a photo. "No, really," she said to Harry, "after all, you want people to know Blaise is no traitor, right? And that you and Draco are out of circulation?"
Harry thought about this, and smiled. Luna could be very strange at times, but she had an amazingly clear head for journalism. No doubt inherited from her father, Xenophilius, who was still publishing The Quibbler. He must be doing something right to still be in business.
"You're right," he replied, smiling at her, and receiving a rather knowing smile in return. "But do we really want it to be an exclusive? After all, I gave you a long interview only a week ago, Rita. And Luna is affiliated with your main rival …"
Rita licked her lips. She needed something; she'd been pursuing that Parkinson girl all week for an interview, but all she had to show for it was some rather hefty bar bills. She was a sly one, that one! And Harry wanted something, that was obvious. He was going to say yes, but he wanted a sop from her to make it a deal. She had played this game many times before; the only thing that mattered was to find the price that was acceptable. And, in her experience, not to exceed the price – surprisingly often, it was very low.
So, what could it be? Harry liked his privacy, she knew that. Right now, of course, he could run and hide whenever he wanted, so she couldn't make leverage out of that. BUT, she realised, in four weeks' time he would be sequestered in Hogwarts, unable to escape. Now she knew perfectly well that the Prophet had already been told by the Ministry, in no uncertain terms, to leave the students alone; but that was an order, not a deal. She knew Cuffe would have to abide by this edict; but how much better if it was a deal she had cut. They would then have the moral high ground – always a useful place, in her experience. Cuffe would be able to play it to the public as The Prophet, rather than the Ministry, defending Potter's privacy. And she would be able to play it to him as her deal to save his face – valuable currency in journalism, she knew very well.
"I'll tell you what, Mr Potter," she replied, suddenly all business-like. "You and Mr Malfoy give us a nice interview, we'll write a lovely set of pieces for you about the attack, and the sterling job the Ministry has done defending you, and how your friends are all behind you, and Mr Zabini's commendable actions; and in return we'll agree not to seek out interviews during the school term."
It was very clever of Skeeter to add the bit about the Ministry, Kingsley thought; after all, he knew perfectly well that the offer was making a virtue out of necessity as the Ministry would insist on a media blackout on the students anyway; she was making it easy for him to keep quiet about that. A honey-pot trap of her own, he thought. But really, it was going to work well for all of them. He nodded to Harry to signify that he wouldn't object.
"Draco?" Harry asked, not wanting to proceed if his partner had any qualms.
"All right," the blond agreed. "But the Minister might want to read the article before it goes to press."
"That will be tight," the journalist replied, in her 'confidential insider' voice. "But I think we can make it work, if we start at once."
"Well," said Harry, "this is a party, so to be fair to our hosts and guests, we can only give you a very few minutes."
Skeeter didn't need to be told that twice; ten minutes later she had the workings of a good article. Fortunately, she had had the foresight to bring a Daily Prophet photographer along with her, and he had managed to take what she decided was a rather nice photograph of the pair, showing off Draco's engagement ring.
At this point, Lucius wandered into the marquee, wondering what had happened to his son and said son's fiancé, who he had not seen outside for some time. Of course he at once saw Skeeter, and his eyes narrowed. He was not fond of gatecrashers, especially ones who had caused Harry as much trouble as this woman. Rita, sensing that she was no longer welcome, at once assured him she was just leaving.
"Indeed," he said, his voice icily polite as his gaze swept over the journalist and the photographer. "Allow me to conduct you and your colleague to the Floo."
"Oh, Mr Malfoy," Rita said, fluttering her eyes at him, "please, don't trouble yourself. I'm sure a house-elf could take us there."
Yes, and you'd interview it on the way for 'a little colour', I'll be bound, he thought. But what he actually said was, "I couldn't possibly be so unchivalrous," as he steered them deftly to the Floo point in the public reception room.Caterers arrived in the marquee at this point to set up tables for the supper buffet to be served later on, and Draco and Harry took the opportunity to lead their friends outside and mingle with the guests again.

"Mr Potter, Mr Malfoy, a lovely party," a familiar voice said, and they turned to find Headmistress McGonagall chatting with Professor Flitwick and Dalmatea Merrythought.
"Good evening, Headmistress, Professor, Madam," Harry said, nodding to the group. "So glad you think so."
"Now, Headmistress," Draco said, eyeing her robes approvingly, and deciding that it was a social occasion and he had had enough champagne to be able to blame his cheek on its effect, "do I detect a new wardrobe?"
The headmistress blushed. It was unexpected, and charming because of it. "Mr Malfoy! I'm surprised that you take such an interest in my attire!" she said, her voice mock-scolding; but he could tell she was really quite pleased that someone had noticed.
"Don't you think they are lovely robes?" Flitwick asked, and Minerva's blush deepened.
"I do," Draco replied, deciding to go down with all his guns of gallantry blazing, "and we feel honoured that you would go to the trouble for our party."
"Yes, well," the aged headmistress replied, "I may say I am delighted to see you two together. And you will look after him, won't you, Mr Malfoy? He's shown us that that is a full-time job …"
And now it was Harry's turn to blush.The party continued happily, and Draco and Harry were very much enjoying talking to all their guests. Ginny and Robin were effusive in their praise for the gardens; Robin explained that his mother was very fond indeed of gardening, and had instilled a love of it in her son. Harry asked him what his favourite would be, and his answer, without hesitation, was the rock gardens of Japan, which he had visited over the previous Autumn. Harry gave Draco a look, and the blond nodded in return.

"There's something we'd like to show you," he said, and led Robin away. Ginny and Draco naturally followed along; in a very few minutes the four were sitting quietly in Draco's garden, watching the shadows changing as the twilight slowly deepened. Robin was stunned to find such an authentic Japanese garden in the wilds of Wiltshire, and expressed his appreciation for it so warmly that Draco, tickled pink to find someone who shared his enthusiasm, told him he could come and see it whenever he liked.
They were sitting there a few minutes later when Narcissa came in.
"Ah Dragon!" she said. "There you are! There's someone come to see you."
And with that she led in Theodore Nott.Nott looked round anxiously, obviously uncertain of the reaction he would get.

"I'm very sorry Draco –" he began to say, but got no further as his friend raced over to him and hugged the very breath out of him. Merlin! He thought, reeling in shock. Is this the same Draco who never showed any emotion?"
"Theo," Draco said, as he let go of his friend, "we understand. You were Imperiused, it wasn't your fault. I'm sorry about your arm."
As he was saying this, Harry came up behind his fiancé and wrapped him in a hug of his own; Draco smiled as he leant back into the embrace. By this time, Nott had recovered somewhat, and was beginning to be very curious indeed. He had heard, of course, that Draco and Potter were now an item; but it was still something of a shock to see them there together, so obviously happy and comfortable in each other's company.
"So … we are still friends?" he asked, still rather tentatively.
"Of course!" And the thing that shocked Theo to the core was that these words were said, not by his friend Draco, but by their former enemy, Potter. Their former enemy, who was now smiling at him and extending a hand to him in a clear invitation of friendship.
Then Potter looked embarrassed. "How is your arm?" he asked, his tone expressing obvious care and gentleness.
He accepted the hand; there was really nothing else to be done. Things really had changed, he decided, if Potter was asking him in such a gentle way. It remained to be seen how things changed from there; but he knew he had just gone from being a prisoner in Azkanban, through being a patient at St Mungo's, to being under the protection of the Boy Who Lived. It couldn't, the Slytherin decided, be a bad thing.
"Much better thanks," he said, smiling at the pair, and they all went back out into the party, where Draco made sure that Theo was reunited with the other Slytherins, who accepted him readily.
As it turned out, Theo didn't stop smiling all night; especially when Pansy took him home …By the time the supper buffet was served, the light was fading, and Neville's beautiful bell flowers were emitting a soft, silvery light that made the garden look stunning. Harry was not at all surprised that the food was beautiful; but what did come as a surprise was the desserts. For, in pride of place on a table laden with sweet treats were a spotted dick and a treacle tart.

Draco took a large helping of the former, and after only one mouthful, said, "I know this taste. Kreacher!"
"Yes, Master Draco?" came the reply as the elderly elf appeared with a pop.
"You made this?" he asked.
"Yes, Master Draco!" Kreacher replied; and by the tone of his voice he was obviously enormously pleased that Draco could tell.
"And this!" Harry said appreciatively, tucking into the very large slice of treacle tart he had taken.
"Yes, Master Harry! Mistress Cissy is being asking Kreacher what the masters like best, and Kreacher is making them for the masters!"
"Thank you Kreacher, we appreciate that very much," Draco said, and the elf was so beside himself to be praised by a Black family member that he squealed with joy, and vanished.
"Did I hear that right?" George Weasley said, as the twins came up to them, "you actually / thanked a house-elf? / We'll have to / write to Hermione about this!"
Draco's face paled in mock-horror. "Please don't!" he said, "I'll never hear the end of it!"
George grinned. Draco, he decided, could be a good sport. "You have won me over with your silver tongue," he replied.
"Hey!" Harry said, in mock-indignation.
"Straw is cheaper!" Fred replied, cutting him off. He could tell that Harry was about to make a comment about Draco's tongue and its uses that would be singularly unfortunate given that his future mother-in-law had just entered the marquee. "Lovely party, Mrs Malfoy."
"Thank you, Mr Weasley," the lady replied, serenely unaware of the moment she had missed. "I believe we are ready for your kind contribution?"The Weasleys' fireworks had been amazing. The guests had all had a wonderful time. The horrors of the attack had been completely overcome. Draco and Harry lay together now in Draco's bed.

"Harry," said Draco, "I …"
"You want to, but you're still not sure?" Harry asked.
"Yeah," the blond replied, feeling guilty. That was it in a nutshell: Harry had been so loving, and so trusting, and making love to him had been just amazing. He so wanted to have Harry do the same for him; but he just didn't feel he could return that love. He so wanted to.
"It really is alright, Dray," Harry said; then remembered how Draco had responded when he had first called him that. "Um, you don't like that, do you? What should I call you?"
Draco stared at his lover. He couldn't believe this man. At every turn, Harry amazed him by how caring and concerned he could be. He thought back on all the vile names he had called him – Potty and Scarhead coming to mind most readily – and that made it clear what he had to say.
"Harry, I really think I don't mind what you call me, as long as it's you calling me it," he said, his cheeks burning with the shame of being so soppy… again. He was becoming a habit, he thought; but for Harry, he just couldn't help himself.
But Harry didn't seem to notice the soppiness. "May I …" he began, haltingly, "… call you Dragon?"
Draco blushed. Only his mother used that one. But he meant what he said. "Yes, my love."
"Oh, my Dragon, I do love you," Harry said, running his hands gently over Draco's body. Draco returned the gesture, and soon they ended up snuggled together, hugging and kissing; and so they fell asleep clasping each other tightly.

Sunday 7 June 1998
Harry was sitting in the cottage garden. He still couldn't quite think of it as his; but he accepted that he had the run of it, and he definitely found that, for him, it was the best place in the Manor to sit and think.
He nearly choked on his honeyed tea when he spotted the Daily Prophet headline.

SNAKE CHARMER!
By Rita Skeeter
The Destroyer of Voldemort seems to have made another conquest! Last night, at a party held to celebrate his lover's birthday, the hero of the Wizarding world, our own Harry Potter, and the lover in question, his arch rival from school, Mr Draco Malfoy, announced their engagement. No doubt witches all over the country will be in mourning!
Mr Potter has won not only Mr Malfoy's heart but apparently that of another Slytherin house member: Mr Blaise Zabini was instrumental in helping Mr Potter foil a cowardly attack on his fiancé. Will our hero ever stop saving people? Let us hope not!

He read on, his cheeks burning, but the rest of the article was even worse drivel than the beginning. Happily, he was interrupted by a blond head peeking over his shoulder; he turned his head for a good morning kiss.
"You slept well," he said. "I've been up for an hour already!"
"It's not my fault you were foolish enough to leave a comfortable bed when you didn't have to," Draco responded. It was, after all, Sunday morning; Draco felt virtuous to have got up before lunchtime. "How bad is it?" he asked, his eyes indicating the article.
"Utter nonsense," Harry replied. "But it's all syrupy sweet. She doesn't call you a 'Death Eater' once. And Blaise is at least mentioned positively on the front page," he continued, passing the paper to the blond.
Draco read the paper, while Harry ate the tea and toast that Mappy had brought him. They sat together in happy silence, and Narcissa, spying them through the French doors, smiled to see them so comfortable in each other's company. She walked out to the garden.
"Good morning Harry, Dragon," she said to them. At the mention of her pet name for him, Draco smiled.
"I'm afraid you'll have to share the use of that name now, mother," he said.
"With Mr Potter?" she asked, knowing full well it wasn't likely to be anyone else.
'Yes, um," Harry said, noting that she had used his surname and hoping desperately that she wasn't offended. "Er, you don't mind, do you?"
Narcissa laughed. Harry was just too easy to wind up, she thought. "Of course not, Harry," she said. "After all, if you two get married, I will have to share him."
Harry smiled, relieved, until she continued, "do you have a date yet?"
Draco looked at his fiancé. "Arthur Weasley did give me a rundown of the term dates," he said. "He seemed to think that the twenty-sixth of September would be a good date. Did you put him up to that?"
Harry went very red. "The other way round, really. Arthur said if we wanted to have some formal ceremony, a week to get organised and a week to relax afterwards might work best; so the middle weekend of our first holidays was indicated."
"And very sound thinking, too," Narcissa commented. "Will you have the bonding here?"
"May we?" Draco asked.
"Of course!" she replied, her face blossoming into happiness at the thought of organising her son's wedding. "I would be overjoyed!"
And so Harry found his wedding all sorted out for him. And if he felt railroaded into it by both of his families, he decided to keep his mouth shut; the look of joy on his future mother-in-law's face was too precious to risk.Narcissa had decided that she couldn't keep the news to herself; she had Floo-called Molly, and the two of them spent the rest of the morning shut up in Narcissa's study, no doubt plotting The Wedding, as Harry had begun to think of it, in definite capital letters. Lucius was in his own study, busy with some project that appeared to require Auror input, as two of them were in there with him.

"Shall we go flying?" Draco suggested.
Harry thought about this at great length; it took him all of a quarter of a second to accept the offer.
Harry found it impossible not to compare the feeling of flying with the feeling he had had two nights before. There was definitely the same sense of being free from the world; but now he didn't feel that sense of being all alone. The loneliness was replaced by an incredible feeling that he was here with Draco, who held half his heart, and it felt so right, so good, that he cried with happiness, and the wind whipped away his tears and his face smarted and he felt so alive! To be flying with his love was the most wonderful thing. He felt his heart would almost burst with joy; he never wanted it to end.
He gazed over at his lover to find the same feelings of life, and love, and fierce joy reflected in the silver eyes.
And so they missed lunch; but neither minded at all.When they had finished flying, and enjoyed each other's company in a very luxuriant shower, they found the three adults having afternoon tea at the table in the cottage garden.

"Do join us," Narcissa invited, levitating cups of tea towards them.
As he received his cup, a thought struck Draco.
"Mother," he said, "I seem to remember that I was promised a present when I came over last night …"
Narcissa arched an eyebrow. "And the party was not present enough?" she asked.
He looked at her, and there was no need for words; the look said 'NO' louder than words could have.
She smiled at him, a thoughtful smile. The insistence on presents was a little childish, certainly; but secretly, she was pleased that he was getting over the need to always act like a grown-up.
"Well, we do have something for you, but I'm not sure you'll think of it as a present," she said.
He looked puzzled. Lucius turned to the other two. "Will you excuse us for a few minutes?" he asked.
Of course, they said yes, and the three Malfoys went into the house.
"It's a beautiful garden, Harry," Molly said, looking around; it had been lovely at night, lit up by Neville's amazing flowers; but now, on a summer's day, it came into its own: a simple, down-to-earth, English garden. They both stood up and wandered around, admiring the different plants, taking in the scents, and just allowing the peace of the place to seep into them.
"I do hope last night's events haven't tainted the garden, Harry," Lucius observed, as the Malfoys returned.
"Not at all," the raven-haired man replied. "They make it even more special; this is the place where the most wonderful man in the world showed everyone just how brave he is."
Molly smiled at the soppiness, while Draco made a face. But he couldn't really be angry with Harry. It was mushy enough for a Hufflepuff, yes; but his fiancé had said it, and Draco knew that, while he was teasing, at root he meant it.
"So, what was the present?" Harry asked him.
"Well," the blond replied, "it is a present; but it's really a present for you." He produced a small box, and inside was an exquisite ring, fashioned in platinum, with rubies and emeralds. "You asked me, Harry, but I want to ask you too. Will you marry me?"
And Harry gave Draco the same answer he had received two days earlier: he picked up the ring and put it on his finger.
"It's a Malfoy heirloom," Draco explained, "and it is the ring my father gave my mother."
Harry looked at Narcissa and Lucius, incredulity in his eyes at the thought of how much it meant that they had given Draco this to give to him. He really was speechless this time!"So, will you come, then?" Molly asked Narcissa, obviously continuing a previous conversation.

To his wife's evident surprise, it was Lucius who answered. "We'd love to," he said.
And they did: for the first time in living memory, the Malfoys dined at the Burrow that night. And the world continued to spin on its axis, and the building didn't fall down, even when Lucius, who had heard of the Bouncy Beating Challenge, insisted on fighting against the twins. Draco was astonished to see his father in such a good mood; even when George bested him, he gave in graciously, congratulated the victorious Weasley, transfigured one of the silver buttons on his blazer into a small silver cup, and presented him with it, saying that a Weasley beating a Malfoy was a rare occasion deserving to be marked in some way.
Draco guessed that his meeting with the Aurors must have gone very well; and he was not wrong. Some of the light in Lucius's eyes was the simple joy of the sport; but more than a little was because of the plans he had for Monday. He was beholden to Harry Potter to protect him, and he had identified two menaces that needed dealing with.
One had been bested the previous evening.
The other's punishment was about to begin.

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