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
- 36
- 37
- 38
37 Narcissa Returns to the Gentle Art of Mothering
Tuesday 9 June 1998
"Mrum – gnurk," Harry muttered as he came awake slowly.
"And good morning to you too," Draco replied, highly amused at his lover's inarticulateness.
Harry opened his eyes to find Draco's silver orbs looking at him. There was a twinkle in his eye; but it seemed to vanish as soon as he saw Harry's eyes and Harry wondered what he had seen to make that happen. But he wasn't game to apologise for making his fiancé frown after the scolding he had received last night, so he decided on another tack.
"Morning," he said, though it came out a little muffled and croaky. "What shall we do today?"
"You, by the look of you, are going to spend today in bed," Draco said firmly, "which serves you right for rushing out into the rain without an umbrella or Impervius charm. Your eyes look tired and rather grey, and your throat is not too well by the sound of it."
"Are you going to stay in bed too?" Harry asked, a note of hope in his voice.
Draco laughed. "Maybe, for some of it. But first, I'm going to get us breakfast."
This made Harry giggle, which unfortunately made him cough. It seemed he really might actually be unwell, he thought. "You mean, you're going to get Kreacher to make breakfast," he pointed out.
"Of course," Draco said, mystified that Harry would think anything else; then he remembered that Harry had made him breakfast once. A very nice breakfast, too. Well, if Harry wanted to make them food, he wouldn't complain, especially as he certainly had a flair for it; but Draco certainly wasn't going to, not when there was a perfectly capable house-elf who would actually want to do it for them.

Half an hour later, having eaten scrambled eggs and bacon, they lay together, clasped in each other's arms. Harry closed his eyes, luxuriating in the feeling of being held, and loved; Draco's scent surrounded him, and it was the most wonderful smell on Earth.
Was it the same as before? he wondered. Something had changed. Somehow it was more intimate; he felt they were more together than they ever been before. He didn't want to ask about it, though; the moment was too good to spoil with words. He nuzzled in to his lover's shoulder, and was rewarded with a kiss to the forehead.

When he opened his eyes again, Draco was no longer in the bed; he was a bit disorientated. How had the blond had time to move, and how had he done so without Harry feeling it? A quick Tempus charm showed the answer to both questions: it was now eleven o'clock, he must have fallen straight back to sleep. Rather embarrassed with himself for doing so, he got up and headed for the shower.
When he got back, naked but for a towel wrapped around his waist, he found Draco sitting on the bed with a tea-tray.
"What exactly do you think you are doing?" the blond asked, stony-faced. "I thought I told you that you were staying in bed today?"
"Yeah, but you left, and I missed you, so I thought I'd get up and come find you."
Draco did not look entirely mollified by this, but clearly had decided that his sternness wasn't getting him very far, as his voice was now quite soft as he continued, handing Harry a clean pair of pajamas, "Well, I'm here now. So you can get back into bed and we'll have some tea together."
Harry thought of objecting; but the look on Draco's face was simultaneously entreating him to do as he was asked, and daring him not to and face the consequences. Harry decided he'd rather not know what the consequences would be, so he complied, putting on the pajamas and sitting up at the bed head, bringing the covers up under his arms.
"That's better," Draco said approvingly, handing him a steaming hot mug of tea. Harry sipped it appreciatively; it had just the right amount of honey, he discovered. Obviously Draco was getting very used to his foibles; or perhaps Kreacher had done it. He decided not to ask, and just assume it was Draco.
"What are you going to do for the rest of today?" he asked the blond.
Draco looked a little surprised. "I thought you wanted me here with you," he said, sounding a little hurt.
"Yes, but you ran away, so I assume you'd rather not be chained to the bed too," he said with a smirk to make it clear that he wasn't serious but was just playing with his lover.
"Very funny," Draco said sarcastically. "While you were asleep, I continued some of the renovations, so it's not like I'm chained to anything. And anyway, I'm not supposed to go anywhere without your say-so, remember?"
Harry blinked and looked at him. "Draco, I told you, I trust you. Do you want to go somewhere? We skipped Hogwarts yesterday; it would be good if one of us went – if you want to. I don't mind; and it would give you a chance to catch up with your friends without me breathing down your neck. I mean, it was fun with Pansy and Blaise last night, but I bet there are things you would like to say to them that were a bit difficult with the rest of us there."
Draco thought about this, refraining from pointing out that he rather liked it when Harry breathed down his neck. His lover was just too good to him sometimes, he thought. "If you really don't mind, I would actually like that," he finally admitted.
"Good," said Harry, his face breaking into a smile. They sat with each other in happy silence until they had both finished their tea, at which point Harry insisted on a kiss goodbye.
"Enjoy yourself," he told his lover, as he snuggled down into the bedclothes for another nap.

"Harry … Harry … HARRY!"
The concerned voice finally broke through into his sleeping subconscious and he woke up to find Narcissa in the room with him.
"Narcissa?" he said, shakily, pushing himself up to the bed head so that they could converse more easily. As he did so, he was rather glad that Draco had made him put pajamas on. "Um, not to be rude, but why are you here?"
She smiled at him. "You were having a nightmare, and yelling rather loudly, and Kreacher didn't know what to do about it, so he Flooed me for advice. So I came at once," she replied simply.
"Oh," Harry said, turning pink with embarrassment. "Thank you. I'm sorry to trouble you."
She arched an eyebrow at him. Really, he was too sweet. "Of course, Harry," she said, sitting next to him on the bed. "It's no trouble. And, not to be rude in turn, why are you here alone, and where is Draco?"
"Oh, he's at Hogwarts," the raven-haired lad replied. "I wasn't very well this morning and he told me I had to stay in bed; but there's no reason for him to have to stay here too, so I told him to go and catch up with his friends."
Narcissa was not sure about this. On the one hand, she loved it that Draco was being given such freedom. The level of trust that Harry was showing was truly wonderful: he was, after all, legally responsible for Draco's parole, and would be quite within his rights to insist on Draco being with him at all times. On the other hand, the world was a dangerous place for her son; he had, after all, already been attacked at Hogwarts. And at the Manor, too, a little voice in her head said; but that was different, she decided: that had been orchestrated. And on the third hand (really? she thought; but what do you say when you suddenly think of a third thing? 'On the first foot?'), just what exactly did her son think he was doing leaving a sick man alone and going off and enjoying himself? Especially when it wasn't just anyone, it was her future son-in-law's health being endangered?
On balance she decided she wasn't going to be an interfering mother-in-law or a scolding mother. Both boys – men, now, really – were of age; they were going to do what they wanted anyway, and she knew in her heart it was better to graciously accept that and support them in their choices.
But it seemed she had taken a little too long in thinking about things, and Harry looked at her, worried. "You think that was stupid, don't you? He could be in danger. Maybe it was, but…"
"Harry," she said, cutting him off, "I think it's lovely that you trust Draco enough to let him go off without you; and I'm enormously grateful that you love him enough to want him to have his own friends, and not to be threatened by that. Yes, he could get attacked; but you can't live your life in fear. Now, no more avoiding the subject: tell me about the nightmare."
"It was nothing, really …" Harry began.
"They always are when you wake up," Narcissa agreed. "It's only when you're asleep that they have power. But that's the point, really, isn't it?"
"I suppose so," Harry agreed. "It was about … about being back in my cupboard at Privet Drive."
"Yes," Narcissa said, soothingly, gratified that he was prepared to share with her – it would be so easy, after all, for him to clam up and send her away. But she sensed that he couldn't do that – there was something in his generous nature that meant, while he would probably never seek help on his own, he would never refuse anyone who wanted to offer it. Anyone he trusts, anyway, she thought – and that was probably true, and the implication that he trusted her was quite staggering, but needed to be faced at another time. "And what happened?"
"Nothing, really," he said, slowly. "I was just locked in there, and a feeling of despair came over me, like I would never get away; I think I must have been yelling, crying for someone to come and let me out. That must be what Kreacher heard."
"I see," said Narcissa, hating those Muggles even more than ever for what they had done to that sweet, lovely child. "Did your aunt and uncle feature at all?"
"Um," said Harry, taking his time and thinking over the event again, "no, I don't think so … except, I heard Vernon's laughter. But he wasn't laughing at me. It was like he was happy outside, and I was totally insignificant, unimportant, unlovely and unloved, just locked away and ignored."
Narcissa reached out to him and enveloped him in a hug. As she did so, she started involuntarily at how hot he was. They would need to fix that, and soon. But first things first. "Oh Harry," she said, "I really don't know how anyone could think you were insignificant. You are just the most wonderful man and I'm so glad my Draco has you."
She kept on speaking softly, but really what she said was unimportant; Harry had dissolved into tears, and was no longer listening to the words, just soaking in the feeling that he was loved. That here was a mother who had been called to his bedside and had come for no other reason than that he needed her there. A family figure who didn't make him feel small, or useless, or weak, just because he was crying on her shoulder.
It took him a little while to calm down; but eventually he did, and took some deep breaths, and pulled away from her. He looked at her, loving the concern shown in those blue, blue eyes, and the love he felt in her touch.
"Thank you," he said, lying back on the headboard and taking a few more deep breaths. "Thank you for coming. I needed it."
Narcissa's heart leapt at this simple acknowledgement of his need, and also at the fact that he was comfortable enough with her presence that he had not apologised to her. Clearly, he now accepted that she loved him, and that said even more about his healing than the fact that he had trusted her enough to tell her about the nightmare. Of course, she knew perfectly well that there was more to tell; but one step at a time. She wondered if he had ever seen a mind healer. Probably not; the Wizengamot seemed happy enough to insist that the families of those killed by Death Eaters receive counseling, but the Death Eaters themselves hadn't, and she was prepared to bet that Harry and his friends had also been overlooked. She wondered just how much the boy had been through and never been helped with. It wasn't just his early family; there was a lot more going on in that head that never came out, she was sure of that. But this was all beyond her skill. And it was also for the future. For now, he needed some mothering; and she knew how to do that, even if she was a little rusty after the horror of the last few years.
"Of course, Harry. Now, how are you feeling? I don't think you should stay here all by yourself, even with Kreacher. Your fever is quite high; I think you should rest up for the rest of the week. I bet you haven't taken any time out since the War, have you?"
Harry shook his head, and she sighed. "You're not indestructible, Harry. The Ministry and the Wizengamot will run you ragged if you let them. But you need some down-time. Come to the Manor and let me take care of you? We can have lunch in your garden and then you can rest up in Draco's bed."
Harry thought for a second and decided that, yes, actually, he would like that. He told her so.
"Excellent!" she said, and he was bowled over by the way her smile lit up her whole face.

Kingsley frowned as he read through the Daily Prophet again. Not that he had much to complain about; Wiggleswade's article had been printed, if not in full, then only trimmed of material that he had to admit it was better without. And the editorial was a bit tame; all about how the Auror corps had responded promptly and how expeditious Flint's trial had been – Kingsley wondered if 'expeditious' was the Word of the Day and Cuffe had been challenged to include it, it didn't seem like the sort of word he would use otherwise.
There was just a little bit at the end, about how 'once more our hero has shown us all the way to defend ourselves' that he didn't like. While it was true that Harry was involved, the whole thing had been carefully planned, with the Ministry's involvement and approval; the article suggested – no, 'suggested' was too bold a word; hinted that this might not be so. That Harry was a vigilante, or that the Ministry was not competent to deal with threats.
Cuffe wasn't saying so yet, of course. But Kingsley had long ago learnt to anticipate what the press would do next – 'know your enemy' was a good maxim, after all; and politics demands the keeping of secrets while journalism demands their exposure, making the two at best uneasy bedfellows.
His misgivings from the previous day came back in force. Like Narcissa the day before, something was telling him that the current positive, almost deferential reporting was too good to be true…

For the first time in Harry's recent visits to the Manor, it was raining, though not as heavily as it had been in London the previous evening. Before he saw this, he had been beginning to wonder if they had charmed the place to avoid bad weather altogether. When he asked Narcissa about it, she laughed, and admitted that the wards were strong enough to keep inclement weather away from the Manor when they needed them to; but the grounds needed water, and natural rain was better than overuse of the water-making charm Aguamenti, so they did not use this warding facility very often.
The two of them sat in Harry's garden, underneath an awning on which Narcissa had cast an Impervius, enjoying the rain that was cascading around them. The rain seemed to amplify the earthy smells of the garden, and Harry found himself brightening considerably as a result. A house-elf appeared and set before them a meal of bread and cheese, gammon and pickles. Harry remarked on the lack of fanciness, which earned him another laugh from Narcissa.
"One has to have simple food occasionally," she told him; "if you eat gourmet food all the time, your palate becomes jaded." As she handed him the cheese board for him to cut off whatever cheese he desired, he considered that 'simple food' was in the eye of the beholder: there was cheddar, and brie, he knew those two, and a few cheeses he didn't recognise, some of which appeared to have gone mouldy. But all in all, this would have been called gourmet food when you compared it to practically any meal he had ever eaten at the Dursleys'.
Narcissa, noticing his reaction to the blue cheeses, told him to try them; "blue cheese has a flavour all of its own," she said, encouraging him to start with one she told him was from Ireland, called Cashel Blue. He tried it, and to his surprise, rather liked it; the mould was not slimy or unpleasant like he had expected.
When they had finished eating, they sat, drinking tea, and listened to the rain and the occasional bird call. Harry appreciated the silence, and that Narcissa didn't insist on talking to him; she could see that the calm and quiet was doing him the world of good. But it wasn't long before she could see he was beginning to tire; and rather than make him walk, she simply apparated the pair of them into Draco's bedroom and helped him into bed.
"If you wake up and need anything, just call Mappy and he will fetch me for you," she said, once he was settled to her satisfaction.

Narcissa was getting worried. Harry hadn't woken up by afternoon tea time; she had warded the room with spells that would alert her if he was yelling in a nightmare, but there hadn't been a peep out of him. She decided that she needed a second opinion; so she made a Floocall. The woman at the other end wholeheartedly agreed with her, and asked if she could come through, and they could both check him out.
"Of course, Molly," Narcissa agreed, happy that her own concerns had not been brushed aside. Not that she had thought there was any chance of it; Molly Weasley was even more protective of Harry than Draco was, and that was saying a bit, given that Draco was under the Debt.
Twenty minutes later, having visited the sickroom and performed all the diagnostic spells they could think of – which in Molly's case was a long list, she was used to sick children – they reconvened in Narcissa's study, concern etched on both of their faces. This, they agreed, was a job for a professional. And really, there was only one possible choice …

"Hey, sleepy-head."
Harry grinned at the voice of his lover.
"Straw is cheaper," he replied.
Draco, in turn, grinned, not that Harry could see it as he was still had his eyes closed. Draco settled down on the bed next to Harry and stroked his hair, at which Harry opened his eyes.
"That's better," Draco said. "You're still looking a bit under the weather, but a lot better than this morning."
"Sleep with me?" Harry asked.
Draco looked at the entreating eyes. How could he resist? He kicked off his shoes and snuggled under the covers with Harry.
"Too many clothes," Harry complained. Draco stifled a laugh, but stayed silent; he wasn't rising to that bait.
"So, how was your day?" Harry continued.
"I thought we were going to sleep?" Draco replied.
"I thought you'd have fewer clothes on," Harry retorted, and this time Draco didn't quite manage to stifle the laugh.
"Then we definitely wouldn't sleep," he replied. "All right, how was my day? Let me think. I spent the first hour cleaning up some of the walls in the DADA classroom; Blaise and Pansy were there. They were sorry to hear you weren't well, by the way." And then, rather shamefacedly, he confessed, "I told them I thought you were malingering really; which was unjust."
"I'll get over it," Harry replied, giving Draco a kiss on the nose to make it clear he harboured no grudge. "Then lunch?" he prompted.
"Yes, lunch was great – Neville and Dean joined us, which could have been awkward, but Blaise was on top form and Neville was kind enough to laugh at his jokes, which was a bit of a new experience for Zabini – most people just groan."
"Are they really that bad?"
"Trust me, you don't want to know. We spent the afternoon on more classrooms – they're really coming on a treat. I asked Flitwick if we needed to get back to the Eighth Year Tower, and he said that that could still wait a week or two. Of course the others wanted to know all about it and of course we told them nothing at all."
"Very Slytherin of you. But can't they see from the outside?"
"Ah, Flitwick has been very cunning. At the moment, the whole thing is charmed to look like an ugly squat bunker of a tower from the outside, and there's a repelling charm in place in case anyone tries to fly over it; so no-one really knows anything."
Harry chuckled. "For a Ravenclaw, he makes a pretty good Slytherin, too, don't you think? But I guess we shouldn't stereotype."
"Well, only in jest," Draco replied. Now wasn't the time for such a talk, not while Harry was still recovering. He wrapped his arms around the sick Gryffindor. "Now, tell me about what happened to you. Mother says you had another nightmare? Was it as bad as last night?"
Harry looked at him, sorrow etched on his face, and asked, "What do you know about last night?"
Draco explained about how he had seen the images, which Harry confirmed were indeed of Sirius Black, and Remus Lupin; and then the one of himself; and heard the voice telling Harry he was a freak and his friends all died because of him. It took a long time; for Harry was on the verge of tears, and Draco kept stopping and reassuring him that he didn't have to keep his feelings all pent up, he was safe and with people who loved him, people who thought his tears were precious, not signs of weakness.
In the end, Harry let his emotions out and wailed like a baby while Draco stroked him and kissed him and told him how wonderful he was and how Draco felt he was the luckiest man in the world to be marrying Harry Potter; not because he was famous, or powerful, or clever, but because he was loving and caring and honest. In the end, they were both crying; and both found a new solace in each other's company that left them sitting in silence for a long time.

KNOCK, KNOCK!
"Ah, Harry, there you are," a familiar voice said. The two of them looked up; there in the door was Madam Pomfrey, the matron from Hogwarts. "Mr Malfoy, if you would excuse me, I would like a little word with Mr Potter."
"Is he all right?" Draco said, worried. "Mother said he just had a bit of a fever, and it wasn't contagious."
"Did she say that, did she?" the matron asked, rather mysteriously. "Well, from what she told me, what ails Harry isn't contagious; but I think I'd better have a look myself. If you don't mind, Mr Potter?"
"Of course. Thank you," said Harry. Poppy Pomfrey was an old friend of his, and if she thought he needed examining, he wasn't about to disagree. "But please, may Draco stay?"
"I have no objection, if you wish it," she replied promptly. "Now, just lie still, this shouldn't hurt a bit," she said, running her wand up and down Harry in a complicated set of movements. A yellow light suffused him, and a piece of parchment appeared in Poppy's hand; as the spell progressed, more and more writing appeared on it, and the look on the nurse's face grew longer and longer.
"Poppy," Harry said, very worried by the effect the writing was having on her, "what's wrong?"
"Those utter bastards," Poppy said softly to herself, and Harry felt the mild oath was one of the most shocking things he'd ever heard. Poppy loved everybody, looked after everyone, for her to think so ill of anyone was without precedent in his experience.
"What is it, Madam Pomfrey?" Draco asked, his voice showing both concern and a determination to know the worst. "Will Harry be alright?"
"What?" Poppy asked, having obviously gone off in thought, and coming back to Earth with a bit of a bump. "Oh, yes, Harry will be fine." She turned to her patient. "Harry, this afternoon, Narcissa and Molly Weasley took the liberty of casting diagnostic spells on you; they were very concerned when the spells showed a large amount of magical healing going on within you, largely because you haven't been exposed to any dangers in the last few weeks – or at least, the Shield will have nullified them. Yes," she continued, forestalling the question, "I asked them all about that. And the tests I ran just now entirely corroborate that diagnosis."
"So … what?" Harry asked, not understanding what he was being told.
"Oh Harry," she said. "They starved and beat you, didn't they? Your relatives?"
"Yes." It was Draco who answered, his voice filling the single monosyllable with hatred.
"And you never said much to me about. Because you were ashamed, right?"
Harry nodded.
"I understand. It must have been terrifying to be taken from a world of abuse into a world you understood nothing about; of course you had no idea who to trust, I'm not surprised you didn't want to trust many of the adults you met. Anyway, back to medical matters: you suffered a lot of trauma, and you didn't have the strength physically to meet the challenges, and it looks like a lot of trauma was absorbed by your magic. While that worked well at the time, there was a cost to pay; your magic has been, it's hard to put into words, sort of bruised, and then a crust develops over it to protect it, and you. Now, all of the bruising is being, how can I put it, pushed outwards; so, for the first time, it's showing up on diagnostic spells."
"So …" Harry asked, "is this … usual?"
Poppy laughed. "Harry, nothing about you is ever usual. I've never seen a case of abuse of this kind before; I doubt that any Healer has, either. But you are an incredibly powerful wizard; I'm pretty confident that your magical core will heal itself, more or less without any medical help."
"So …" Draco asked, "it's not … dangerous?"
"Oh no, I don't think so. No, on the whole, the process is a good thing; your body will rebuild your magical core, and then in all probability a large part of the muscle tissue that never developed properly because of the malnutrition. But it isn't going to be a lot of fun. We'll all have to keep a very good eye on Mr Potter; and the process is going to take a few days, during which, young man," she said, turning her gaze fully on Harry and fixing him with a stern eye, "I am going to insist that you stay in bed, apart from the obvious exception. You will find you'll be exhausted for most of this week anyway, while your magic is sorting itself out."
"Got it," Draco said. "Staying in bed for a week. No objection if I stay with him?"
"On the contrary," the witch replied, a sly grin on her face, "as long as you're keeping a good eye on him and making sure he has what he needs, I think your company will do him the world of good. In fact, there are some potions I could recommend, you could brew them for him if you would."
"Consider it done," Draco replied. And Harry knew, from the tone in his voice, that there was no getting out of this. For the next few days, he was a prisoner in Draco Malfoy's bedroom.
There were, he thought, much worse fates …

KNOCK, KNOCK!
Draco opened his eyes, expecting to see his mother; but standing in the doorway was Andromeda Tonks, holding a watchful green-haired Teddy Lupin.
"Hello, Andromeda; hi, Teddy," Draco said softly. On hearing Draco's voice, Teddy smiled, and his hair went from green to silver in a flash.
"Hmm?" Harry mumbled, and opened his eyes. "Teddy! Andy! What a nice surprise!" he said as he shuffled up to lean against the bed head.
He sat up, and Teddy, obviously a little confused by having two of his favourite people so close together, changed his eyes to match Harry's. The silver hair and green eyes made Harry laugh, and that made Teddy chortle.
Andromeda smiled; the happiness was infectious, and, she was sure, good for Harry. "That's not the only surprise," she said. She walked up to the bed, and put Teddy down on it, at the foot. Instantly, the tiny boy huffed his disapproval, forced himself up, and began flapping his arms and legs in a laborious attempt to crawl up to the two lads. The bed was too soft for him to get much purchase, so it was very slow going; but he did manage to move forward very slowly.
"That's amazing!" Draco said. "He's how old?"
Andromeda beamed with pride. "Nearly three months. He's even earlier than his mother was. He just started today, so I suppose it's a bit unfair to expect anything of him, really," and so saying, she lifted the baby up and dropped him into Harry's arms.
"Hello, Teddy Bear!" Harry said, cuddling and tickling the boy; then, worrying, he looked at Andromeda. "Are you sure it's all right? He won't get sick from me?"
The older woman chuckled. "He's made of stern stuff, Harry, he'll be fine. Your fever is mostly caused bt the magic healing inside you, anyway; Narcissa told me all about the diagnostic spells she and Molly did on you; most of your problem is exhaustion. You are going to be a sensible young man for a change and stay in bed for the rest of the week, aren't you?"
The witch's tone, though bright, left no room for manoeuvre: she clearly meant what she said.
"It's all right, Aunt Dromeda," Draco answered, "I've already made it clear we're going to keep him in line."
"You'd better, young man," she answered, with her customary kindly-meant sternness. "No more running away and leaving him to fend for himself, as I hear you did today."
"Hey, no fair!" Harry exclaimed. "I told him to go. And anyway, I had Kreacher."
"Humph!" Andromeda snorted, in a tone that made it clear she didn't regard a house-elf as a suitable helper for looking after an invalid. "Nonetheless, you needed looking after. And I hope you'll know when you're well off and stay here for the rest of the week."
Harry sighed; though in truth, he was loving it. He'd never had anyone to fuss over him, now he had a whole family, and he was soaking up the love.
"All right," he said, resignedly; "but," addressing the boy on his lap, "you'll have to give your grandmother hell for me, Teddy Bear."
Andromeda snorted. "Trust me; he doesn't need any encouragement for that."
At this point, a table and chairs, set for dinner, appeared in the room, as Lucius and Narcissa walked in.
"Good evening, Harry," Lucius said, "We thought, since you are going to stay in bed, we would dine with you, if that's all right?"
Harry nodded and smiled. He could hardly speak; he knew that it was a big deal to pure-blood families to dine in the proper dining-room, and he was choking up again at how much this family was prepared to put themselves out for him.

If he had needed reminding, dinner made it abundantly clear how Narcissa could refer to their lunch as 'simple food'. The meal was simply, stunningly, beautiful, in every way: visually, the guinea fowl in a red wine sauce, placed on a white china plate co-ordinated beautifully with the roast potatoes and dark green vegetables; the smell was heavenly; and the taste! Harry and Draco ate their meals sitting against the bed head on trays suspended in front of them, while the other three adults, and Teddy in a high chair, sat at the table.
But, even though the china and the cutlery were pristine, and the starched linen napkins would not have been out of place in the most royal of palaces, the meal was not at all formal, largely due to the happy conversation that flowed around them. Draco shared more about the goings-on at Hogwarts, including a bit of byplay that seemed to be going on between Neville, Pansy, Blaise and Theo; by the sound of it, they were becoming quite good friends. Theo was still spending a lot of time at St Mungos, rehabilitating his arm, but the healers wanted him to get used to being with people again, so he spent a few hours each day at Hogwarts. Even though he couldn't do much, Flitwick welcomed him with open arms, and he and Neville had taught him some charms he could perform with very simple arm motions. As a result, it seemed he was growing in confidence; and Harry was delighted to hear that Neville was taking pains to befriend him.
Andromeda told of Teddy's exploits, and how he was learning to play 'Boo'; when she said the words, his tiny hands came up to hide his face, and they all burst out into laughter at the sight. Narcissa, looking over at Harry, caught his eye, and smiled.
"How is your meal, Harry?" she asked. "A little different to lunch!"
Lucius looked at them quizzically, so Harry explained about the 'simple' meal of bread and cheese that they had had at midday.
"I envy you," Lucius admitted. "My lunch was with a group of hard-drinking Muggles and seemed to consist entirely of beer and grease."
"What were you doing with Muggles?" said Harry, then instantly regretted the words as they sounded rude. But Lucius just answered as though this were the most natural of questions.
"Oh, as part of helping people recover from the war, I have been pursuing various building projects, Harry. Some of those involve dealing with Muggle builders, especially for the Muggle-borns and half-bloods who have lost family and houses."
"That must be a bit of an eye-opener," Andromeda suggested.
Lucius chuckled. "It certainly is. Why, yesterday, one of them drank port and lemon!" and he went on to tell them about his lunch with the Grunnings, without giving any identifiable details.
While Lucius was a good story-teller, and the tale made Harry laugh, he was a little concerned. "But you didn't use Confundus on him did you? That would be a bit …"
"Unfair?" Lucius suggested, and Harry nodded. "Well, not really. I might have given him a little push, but only in the direction he actually wanted to go. His wife was trying to get him to keep things as they were; I think she just wanted him out of the house."
This made the two ladies smirk, and seemed to satisfy Harry for the moment. But Lucius knew he would have to tell all, soon; he was too close to Harry right now, and the Debt was manifesting, pushing him to be completely open with the boy. He's too sick yet, he needs to recover first, he told himself.
Happily, at that point, dessert appeared and the conversation drifted on to safer subjects.

The moment came sooner than Lucius had thought. The ladies had left, taking Teddy back home to bath and bed, and Draco and Harry were sitting together, happily silent in each other's company, and Lucius got up to return to his study when Harry stopped him.
"Lucius, before you go …"
"Yes, Harry?" the Malfoy patriarch replied, retaking his seat.
"Those Muggles today … who were they?"
"George and Betty Grunning," Lucius said, opting to say the minimum and let Harry take things where he would.
The beautiful green eyes opened very wide. "Grunning?" he replied, and then, "what are you up to?"
Here we go, Lucius thought. "As I said, I'm buying up Muggle enterprises to help the rebuilding programme for Muggleborns affected by the War."
"And why a drill factory?" Harry asked. Draco looked shocked; 'How did Harry know that?' was written on his face.
"Well," the silver-haired patrician replied, "I'm sure it will be useful … and of course, it gives me direct access to the Directors of the company …"
Harry looked at Lucius sternly for a few seconds, then broke into a grin.
"Give him hell," he said.
Lucius smirked. "Harry, you are so full of surprises," he replied, as he took his leave.
"What was all that about?" Draco asked, mystified.
"Oh," Harry replied, "you'll see. Sleep now."

Later that night, Harry woke to find sparking grey eyes looking down at him. Draco was sitting up against the bed head, holding Harry in his arms, with the Gryffindor's head nestled on the Slytherin's chest.
"Hi," he said. "Been awake long?"
"I haven't slept," Draco replied.
"Oh," Harry said. "You didn't really have to stay, you know."
Draco thought back to the conversation he had had earlier, and shuddered. "Yes, I really did," he replied.
"Why?" Harry asked.
Draco scooted down the bed and wrapped himself around his lover, kissing his temple.
"Well," he began, "this afternoon, Mappy appeared at Hogwarts to tell me I was needed at the Manor, and when I Flooed back here, I found two rather … concerned … mothers waiting for me."
"Two?" Harry asked, puzzled.
"Yes. Mother had Floocalled Molly Weasley. They were not impressed that I had left you all alone; they made it very clear that you were not well, and needed to be looked after, and at the very least I should have told them about it."
"Ah," Harry said, suspecting that when Draco had said 'concerned' before what he actually meant was 'absolutely livid'.
He snuggled against his lover, enjoying the closeness and warmth of the other man, and they settled into a contented silence.
"Thank you," Harry said eventually.
"What for?" Draco asked.
"Everything. Lots of things. Listening to me tell you about the nightmares without making me feel pathetic. Not freaking out when you were in one with me. Telling us about Neville and Theo, because you care about them. And most of all, for loving me."
Draco smiled. And in that moment, he remembered the fear he had had last night, he made a firm and fierce decision. He loved Harry, and he was going to see him happy. Nothing and nobody was going to break them apart, as far as he had anything to do with it. No-one attacking them; no obnoxious owls; no nightmares; and most of all, no fear or pride of his own.
He held Harry tight.
"I love you," he whispered, his voice quivering with passion, as Harry drifted off to sleep.
That night, wrapped tight in his lover's arms, Harry did not have a nightmare.

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.
- 36
- 37
- 38
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Returning to Sanity