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Returning to Sanity	By : AchillesTheGeek Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31212 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books or films, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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41. Brief Return Visits
Saturday 13 June 1998
The colours swirled around him. There was the usual ground-swell of silver and red; but twisted with them were many other colours. To begin with, it had all been rather dark, and he had felt he was floating in mid-air; but it hadn't been unpleasant, so he had been able to rest. But even when he closed his eyes, it wasn't black. There was always some light, but it never seemed intrusive. He just let it cascade around him, and flow under him, and around him; and generally, he felt content.
From time to time, the silver light had been brighter; and in those times he could even put a name to it: Draco. He couldn't quite remember much any more; but that name, he knew, was a good name. He liked it when the silver light burned stronger; he would reach out to it, and often it would encircle him, cutting out the other colours completely. They were the most peaceful times.
But now the colours were changing; the darker hues were giving way to pastel colours, but still softly lit. He found the whole thing mesmerizing. He gradually became aware that the light was changing from moment to moment. But it wasn't like a complete change, like someone switching a lamp on, or turning the brightness up; no, it was more as if a gentle rain was falling on it, and the darkness was being rinsed out of it, cascading down and falling out at the bottom.
Then all at once he felt strangely different, and wondered what had changed. It was a few moments before he remembered the words to describe it: he wasn't floating any more. His feet touched something solid. The light, now completely cleansed of the dirt that had been in it, grew more muted, and instead of colour, it was as if he started to see ideas themselves taking on a visible form, pouring into him.
And then, he remembered.
He remembered why he was there: he had been wounded and sick, and his magic needed to recover. He remembered who Draco was, and how much he loved the man, and longed to be with him. And he knew now. His magic had been cleansed; his strength rebuilt. To his chagrin, he also knew it wasn't quite enough: the weariness which had been his constant companion since he had gone hunting horcruxes, which had become so much a part of him that he had forgotten it was there, had lessened considerably; but it not left him completely. He would need more healing. But right now he needed food, and potions, and, most of all, human contact.
He would need another round of healing soon. But for the moment, he felt strong. Powerful. Ready.
That was the word.
For a brief moment, at least, Harry Potter was ready to return to the Wizarding world.

The green eyes opened, and the silver eyes looked down into them.
"Welcome back," said a familiar voice. "How are you feeling?"
Harry broke into a huge grin. "Better. Not finished yet, but better."
Draco smiled at first, then pouted on hearing that he would need more healing. He had hoped to get on with Grimmauld Place; they were running out of time to get it finished before Ron and Hermione returned, which Draco knew that Harry wanted to do. They had left before he and Harry had really started in earnest; it would be so much fun to surprise them with a finished job when they returned.
"Yeah, I'll need that second round of potions. Did you miss me?" Harry asked.
"Every minute," Draco replied, and Harry could see in his eyes that this was nothing less than the honest truth. He pulled his lover down for a kiss.
It was a good thing that no-one knew that Harry was awake for another hour; lovers' reunions are private affairs.

Showered and dressed, the two boys lounged together on Draco's bed.
"Mappy!" Draco called.
The house-elf appeared. He took one look at Harry and his eyes went round.
"Master Harry Potter is awake! Is Masters wantings breakfast?" he asked. "And shall Mappy be telling Healer Professor Mistress Touauld?"
"Yes, to both, I think," Draco replied, and the elf chortled at having jobs to do, and vanished. Draco wondered at the title 'Professor'; he would have to ask her about it. House-elves might produce ridiculous titles for people, but they were generally accurate.
"Too-old?" Harry asked.
"You'll see," Draco replied, with a smirk.
Fifteen minutes later the two were sitting up on the bed, finishing a hearty breakfast, when a knock came at the door.
"Mr Potter! Welcome back!" said a voice Harry did not know, and a very old witch, in the lime-green robes healers wore, entered the room. "My name is Agnes Touauld, and I have been called in by Madam Pomfrey to assist her with this case. I must ask, rather belatedly, is that acceptable to you?"
"Yes of course," Harry replied. If Pomfrey had called her in, that was good enough for him. On the other hand, this was his healing she had been called to, so he had no hesitation in asking, "So, if you've been called in for an opinion, what is it?"
Touauld gave him a sharp look. She wasn't used to such directness from her patients; most of them were too much in awe of her. On the whole she found it quite refreshing. She smiled at him.
"Let me run some diagnostics, and I'll tell you."
To Harry's surprise, Draco jumped away from him. He looked at his fiancé quizzically.
"The last time Healer Touauld ran diagnostics, they interacted with the Shield."
Harry's mouth made a perfect 'O' shape.
"You remember it, Mr Potter?" Touauld asked, with a note of … more than interest, more than curiosity, but Harry couldn't think of the word … in her voice, as she began her scan.
"I remember Draco came to me; was that it?" Harry asked, and the other two both nodded encouragingly. "We talked a little; he told me about you, I remember now. Then I asked him to come back here, to reassure everyone I was all right. It seemed like the right thing to do?"
Touauld did not fail to notice the diffidence that Harry displayed. It intrigued her greatly. She had expected the Saviour of the Wizarding World, the Boy Who Lived Twice, the Destroyer of Voldemort to be quite different from this awkward teenager in front of her. It quite disarmed her; arrogance she knew how to deal with, but there was a humility and kindness radiating from Harry that she wasn't sure how to handle.
So, like any true professional, she lapsed back into the Official Manner.
"No-one can say what is 'right' or 'wrong' Mr Potter; if you wanted to do it, and you did it, then that was all to the good. I may say that Mr Malfoy told us a great deal that was very reassuring. Now, let me see …"
She passed the results of the scan through her fingers, and her face very quickly changed from its official, impassive demeanor to one that looked, simply, astonished.
"What's wrong?" Harry asked, his voice sharp with concern.
She looked at him, and again there was a look in her eyes he couldn't quite place.
"Nothing's wrong, Mr Potter; but these readings are, in my experience, unprecedented. No, according to the scan, there was an incredible amount of damage to your magical core; I've seen patients with half as much damage crippled magically by it; to the extent of being practically squibs."
At this point, the Healer seemed to dry up, her eyes going up as she was evidently concentrating on some train of thought.
"There was …" Draco prompted.
"Yes," she said, coming back to the present. "A very great deal of it has been healed. Not, I am afraid, all of it; you will need at least one more session of healing, but your body will be able to take stronger potions now, so I would expect one might be sufficient. But the truly surprising thing is you, Mr Malfoy," she said, turning to Draco.
"Me?" Draco asked, astonished. Despite her words from before, he wasn't aware that he needed, or had received, any healing.
"Yes. I'm sure you remember I asked you to stay here with Mr Potter, and submit to further monitoring?"
Draco nodded in affirmation.
"Tell me, do you feel any different about Mr Potter since then?"
Draco thought for a few seconds. And then one moment, one image came back to him: carding his fingers through Harry's hair, holding him, and missing everything about him being present. The moment when he had realised how much his life had come to revolve around the man in his arms. And the moment when he had realised that that was exactly what he wanted: being with Harry, and sharing his life with him; that was enough for him, for the rest of his life.
"I thought so," the healer said, though he had said no words; the smile, the look of sheer joy in the memory, on his face told her all she needed to know. "And Mr Potter, tell me, when the Debt was formed, how did you feel about it?"
Harry looked at her, bemused. What is this all about? he wondered.
"They told me about it, and I wanted to get rid of it. I didn't want Draco or Lucius to be my slaves; I just wanted them to be free from Voldemort's curse."
"Well, Mr Potter, I rather think you may have your wish. It seems, from what I read here, that you have once more done the impossible. Debts of Magical Emancipation are supposed to be impossible to break; but somehow, the bond between you and Draco has been changed completely, and the compulsion that had been in it seems to be missing entirely."
Draco and Harry both looked at her, shocked by these words.
"You mean … I don't have to protect him? Or always tell him the truth? Or owe him?" Draco asked.
"You tell me," Touauld replied.
Draco searched inside his mind for a minute, and then his face broke into a smile. He turned to look at Harry, and there was no hiding the joy and adoration in his eyes.
"She's right, Harry," he said, a fierce joy in his voice. "I don't have to."
Harry tried to smile, but he felt as though his whole world was shifting under his feet. What did this mean? Would Draco reject him now?
"That's … great …" he said, his tone betraying his fears and uncertainties.
The tone was not lost on either of the other two, and Draco cocked his head, a frown on his face. And then, it was as sudden as a Lumos! spell, his face broke into a huge grin as he realised what was going on in Harry's head.
"It is great!" he replied, practically throwing himself back at Harry, and wrapping him tightly in his arms. "I don't have to protect you! So now, the reason why I'm going to is for one thing only. I want to, Harry. I love you. You are the most special, wonderful, gorgeous person I have ever met and I am never going to let you out of my life!"
There was a soft click as the door closed behind Agnes Touauld. She knew very well when three was a crowd …

By ten o'clock, Harry had been brought up to speed with all that Draco knew of what had happened while Harry had been out of it. There was a soft knock on the door, and a moment later, two figures clad in Auror robes entered.
Harry looked at them for a second before recognising them. When he did, he leapt out of bed, and, much to the amusement of the older Auror, grasped the smaller, younger, one in a huge hug.
"I'm guessing you missed me, Harry," Robin Banks said, a note of amusement in his voice, as he returned the hug. "Now, tell me, how long have you not needed glasses?"
Draco's breath hitched. As he thought over the morning, it came to him that Harry hadn't once reached for his glasses. He hadn't even noticed that Harry wasn't wearing them; or if he had, he must have sub consciously assumed he didn't need them, given that they were so close to one another. He took some small comfort from the fact that, going by the expression on Harry's face, it hadn't occurred to him, either.
"Just this morning, I think," he replied, as he resumed his place on the bed, signing to the two Aurors to fetch chairs from the adjacent table and sit with them. "Must be part of the healing, I guess."
"And a very welcome part, I'm sure, sir," said Proudfoot.
But Harry was having none of that. "'Sir'? Since when do you call me 'sir', Toby? Unless, of course, Auror Proudfoot, you're arresting me for a crime?"
The two Aurors guffawed at the thought.
"All right, Harry," Toby Proudfoot responded, stressing the use of Harry's first name, "And no, I can't think of any crime to arrest you for, unless it's lying around lounging in bed when decent folk should be up and doing."
Harry blushed red at this, but Draco told him not to be silly; he was a convalescent patient, after all.
"And anyway, we're both determined to be as indecent as possible," the blond continued.
"Not helping, Dragon," Harry stammered out, and indeed his blush had intensified alarmingly, to the obvious delight of Robin, if no-one else.
"What we would like to discuss with you, though," Toby continued, and Harry was impressed that, like Arthur Weasley, Auror Proudfoot seemed to be able to stick to the topic despite frequent interruptions, "is the small matter of your cousin Dudley."
"Hmm," said Harry, "What about him? And anyway, he's not that small – size of a walrus when last I knew."
Robin looked at him keenly, searching for any sign that Harry was in fact joking; finding none, he replied, "well, he's lost weight then; he was looking quite the dapper young man when we saw him on Monday."
"You saw him?" Harry replied, and Robin was very relieved to hear no hint of hatred in Harry's reply. "How was he?"
"Rather angry, actually," Robin replied. "It seems he's taken steps to clean up his life and make something of himself; he's a prefect at his school, now, and doing well in his grades. And he'd just had a row with his father, who, I gather, doesn't see this as an improvement."
"Of course he wouldn't," Harry snarled, and there was definitely hatred in Harry's voice now. "He'd want Dudders to be just like him. But I'm glad to hear that's not how it's working."
Right, thought Robin, it's now or never.
"Good. So, Harry, we were wondering if you would like to meet with him?"
Draco looked a little shocked. It sounded like Harry might not actually despise this boy, but he had been awful to him in the past; why would he want to have anything to do with a scumbag Muggle?
But Harry looked pensive. "Does he want to see me?" he asked.
"Very much so," Robin answered. "He's scared you won't want to see him, or that you might hex him; but he told me he still feels he owes you a proper apology."
"Really?" Harry asked, and Draco wondered at the hope in Harry's tone.
"He said that they all do, but he's the only one with the balls to give it," Robin replied. "We can bring him here this afternoon, if you are both agreeable?"
"It's up to Harry," Draco replied, "if he wants him here, of course he can come."
Harry's eyes were shining. "Yes, please!" he replied.

Kingsley Shacklebolt had been having a relaxing Saturday morning until the Daily Prophet arrived. On the front page was a picture of Harry Potter – no surprise there, Harry got his photo in the paper as often as not, despite Kingsley's best efforts to shield the young, publicity-shy wizard from the wholly unwanted popularity. Next to it, and this was a surprise, was a picture of one of the Weasley twins; Fred, by the caption, though it could just as easily have been George, they were hard enough to tell apart in the flesh, all but impossible in photographs.
And then his eye fell to the headline, and he read the article, horror mounting in his heart as he did so.

The Other Boy Who Lived
By Rita Skeeter
The Prophet has recently learned that Mister Fred Weasley, joint owner of Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, has a very unusual connection with our Hero, the Boy who Lived. It seems that, during the Battle of Hogwarts, Mister Weasley was in fact killed in an explosion – and then Mister Potter performed a feat of magic, and something hitherto believed to be impossible happened – Mister Weasley was returned to us from the dead!
It seems that this fact is related to a Debt that was created at the same time, between Mister Potter and the two male Malfoys, Lord Lucius and Mister Draco Malfoy. We have also learned more about the specific nature of this debt; we will be publishing further particulars tomorrow, but suffice it to say that it is a Debt of Magical Emancipation, one of the strongest bonds in Wizarding lore. What effect, we wonder, will this have on our society, when Lord Malfoy appears to have largely regained the confidence of the Ministry and pure-blood wizards and witches? Will the fact that their leader owes so much to a half-blood affect the political situation?
The Prophet has surveyed leading experts for their opinions of these events, and we will be publishing these tomorrow. But we do have a wider concern: just what other events happened during the War with Voldemort that we have not been told about? Is the Ministry deliberately suppressing knowledge? Or is there, in fact, a rift between Mister Potter and the Ministry? Has Mister Potter been keeping secrets? Is it not suspicious that Mister Potter has disappeared for the last couple of days, and no-one will tell us where he is? We wonder if he is feeling guilty, or if the Ministry is hiding him, concerned that he will give secrets away?
A transcript of Mister Marcus Flint's trial on Monday has come into the Prophet's hands, and we are both interested and concerned to learn that once again, information appears to have been suppressed: in this case, a great deal of interesting testimony from Wandmaker Garrick Ollivander concerning the Elder Wand. The stuff of children's fairy-tales? Or a real, and dangerous artifact? We will reveal all in tomorrow's edition.

He groaned. It looked like the honeymoon period that Harry and he had been having was over, just like that. The Prophet's game was all too obvious: the Ministry was, of course, closed for the weekend, so they would have three editions out before there was any chance of a co-ordinated Ministry response.
His Floo chimed, and to his surprise, it was Lucius Malfoy calling.
"I take it you have read the article?" Lucius said without preamble as soon the Minister took the call. Kingsley was glad that there was no small-talk or prevarication; this needed to be dealt with, and Malfoy was clearly in the mood to do so.
"Yes," he replied baldly. "Have you considered how to deal with it?"
"I have some thoughts," the blond replied. "How about we get together in my study at one o'clock?"
"That sounds excellent," Kingsley replied, glad to be meeting somewhere private, where there wouldn't be any chance of a leak. His own flat was far too small, and well known, to serve as the venue. "Shall I bring Arthur?"
"Bring everyone you think will help," Lucius replied. "And, whatever you do, don't say a single word to a reporter. Not even 'no comment', if you can help it."
"How do I do that?" Kingsley asked, bemused. It was all very well for the head of the Malfoy family, but Kingsley was all too aware that he was a public official.
Lucius thought for a second or two, then answered, "fair question. Tell them the Ministry will be putting out a statement in due course which will answer their questions, and ask them to respect the fact that it's your weekend. Then if they quote you saying anything at all, you will have a case for intrusive reporting. Doge is being seen as independent now, so they won't get away with it."
Reassured, the Minister agreed.
"Oh, one more thing; I'm sure you've heard about Harry being in a coma?"
Kingsley nodded in response.
"I've just learnt that Harry is awake. Molly Weasley might want to come and see him; please tell her we would be delighted to receive her. I'll set the wards to allow it."
Kingsley smiled. This was, at least, some good news. Whatever lies the Prophet spread, he liked Harry very much indeed; and if he was awake and able to counter their lies himself, so much the better.
"Does he know about the article?" Kingsley couldn't stop himself from asking.
"No," Lucius replied, "and until he gets the all-clear from the Healer, I'm not letting him know. See you at one, then?"
Kingsley agreed, and they finished the call. The Minister sighed. This was not going to be a fun battle; but, he realised, with considerable surprise, he was rather glad that it seemed he had Lucius Malfoy on his side. And how ironic was that, after the years they had spent as enemies!

Petunia Dursley sat at her kitchen table, clutching on her teacup so hard that Robin Banks was surprised it hadn't shattered yet. He was a little conflicted; he didn't want to push her, but Vernon would be home soon, and this whole exercise would be simpler if he never knew about it.
She stared at the two policemen sitting in her kitchen. She had prayed they would never come back; but she knew perfectly well that they would. And now, a day later, here they were.
"You want me to sign a permission form to take Dudley to see an important witness?" she said, repeating Toby's request almost word for word. The two Aurors, sitting opposite her, nodded together in agreement. "And you won't tell me who it is?"
"That might prejudice the investigation, ma'am."
And, all at once, a truly unexpected thing happened: Petunia Dursley, that horsey, rather stupid, unimaginative woman made a connection.
"It's Harry, isn't it? You know where he is?"
The two Aurors were professionals; their faces gave nothing away. But they could see into her mind; they knew that she knew. That even their very silence had confirmed her thoughts.
"Is he all right?" she asked, in a whisper.
"The form, please, Mrs Dursley," Robin replied.
"Is he all right?" she asked again. And then, her motherly thoughts kicked in, and she asked, all afraid, "will my Dudley be all right? Will he hurt him?"
"Our witness wants to see Master Dursley," Toby replied. "If it helps you, we will be present at the interview. I don't imagine that he will come to any harm."
Petunia sat there, feeling desperate. How could she sign the form? Harry might hurt her Dudley. He might, anyway, a little voice said in her head. And really, what else could she do? If there was a chance, if somehow they could reach out to Harry, explain, stir his pity…

There was a very timid knock on his door.
"Enter!" the prefect demanded.
A lowly second-year came in, almost shaking in fright to address a prefect. "H-h-housemaster wants to see you, sir," he said.
He looked at the boy, and winced inwardly. His reputation, it seemed, was never going to go away. A year ago, the boy could have expected a hazing for daring to knock on his door; but those days were over. Well, nearly over. He still had the urge to shove the boy's head down a toilet for ten seconds, but he was now able to push it down and not act on it.
"Thank you," he said, and the boy looked at him in shock. "Tell him I shall attend presently."
The boy practically bolted, obviously relieved to have been so quickly and painlessly dismissed.

It was three minutes later that Dudley Dursley knocked on his housemaster's study door.
"Enter!" the master demanded.
"You wanted to see me, sir?" Dudley said as he came in, and then noticed the two other men sitting in the study. He recognised one of them; but there was no way the housemaster needed to know that. Dudley was quite good at not telling teachers things (one of the few attributes he shared with his cousin), and kept his face blank.
"Ah, Dudley. Officers Sligo and Collins here are policemen; they have an authority signed by your mother to take you out for the afternoon. I'm sure you will be eager to assist them in their enquiries?"
It was, of course, the Right Thing to Say, but the housemaster's tone left no doubt that he considered police officers to be very unwelcome in his school.
"Yes, sir," he replied, returning the tone; though he thought he could guess what Robin Banks wanted with him.
"Very good, Mr Dursley," Robin said. "If you would just come with us?"

Harry and Draco were sitting in Harry's garden when the Aurors arrived. There was a pile of currant buns in front of them; despite the fact that Harry had eaten about four square meals' worth of food since waking up, he still felt a bit peckish. Draco was, of course, helping him to eat the buns; a rather fruitless endeavour, as Mappy replenished the supply whenever the plate dipped below about half-full.
"H-H-Harry?"
Harry looked. Dudley was standing in between the two Aurors, and the fear coming off him was palpable. Harry smiled at his cousin as he gestured for the three of them to be seated.
"Hello Dudley," he said, keeping his voice pleasant. "Haven't seen you for a while. Tea?"
"Th-th-that would be nice," the boy replied, getting his breathing back under control. He was very reassured by the kindness he heard from Harry; perhaps, just perhaps, it would be all right. He surveyed his cousin; he was looking tired and run-down; but he seemed a million times better than he had ever been at Privet Drive. And, it was not lost on him, a million times happier as well.
"Mappy!" Harry called, and Dudley recoiled in horror when the house-elf appeared.
"Sorry," Harry said, grinning, "of course, you haven't met house-elves before. Mappy, this is my cousin Dudley Dursley, and you know the Aurors. Would you fetch a fresh tea-tray please?"
"Of course, Master Harry Potter sir!" the elf replied, and vanished with a pop.
"Now, Dudley," Harry said, looking back at his cousin. "I'd like you to meet Draco Malfoy. This house is Malfoy Manor, which his parents own."
"Wow," Dudley replied. He had been brought through the Manor as they had arrived by motor car in an attempt to not spook the boy too much; so he was well aware just how grand the place was. "It's an amazing house you have, Mr Malfoy."
"You'd better call me Draco," the blond youth replied, "since 'Mr Malfoy' is usually my father; and also, I'm going to be your cousin very soon …"
Dudley looked dumbfounded at this. Harry smiled and added:
"Draco and I are engaged, Dudley. Which I guess is much more accepted in our world than yours; so I hope, if you have a problem with that, that you keep it to yourself."
At this point, Mappy reappeared with the tea-tray, and proceeded to pour tea for everyone. There was also a pile of Bath buns and apple turnovers; Draco snagged one of each onto his plate as soon as he saw them. Harry smirked at this, swiped the apple turnover, took a bite, and put it back on Draco's plate. He loved the turnovers that the Malfoy elves made; but he was feeling too full to have a whole one of his own.
Dudley stirred his tea and watched this little pantomime. He studied each of them in turn and took a deep breath before replying. He was still slightly terrified; but there were things he knew he had to say.
"Vernon would be appalled, of course. But I reckon we have no right to judge you for anything. You saved my life from those Demented things, and all we did was make your life hell. I'm sorry for that, Harry, really I am. I hope you'll let me make it up to you, somehow. And as for the two of you, I'm glad, I really am. You deserve to be loved. It's obvious that whatever is going on between you is making you happy; we never did anything to do that. I'm really pleased for you."
This was probably the longest speech that Harry had ever heard Dudley give, unless you counted the long strings of swear words he had been known to come out with. And it was certainly the only speech Dudley had ever given him with any real positive feeling in it; after all, the last time they had met, Dudley had been as eloquent as to say, 'I don't think you're a waste of space.' There was a lot to answer; but Harry was quite interested in the first word.
"Vernon? You call him that now?" Harry asked. "Not father?"
Dudley looked at him. "Not much of a father, really, is he? No, I don't want anything to do with him. Ever again, if I could help it."
Harry smiled again. "That's something we both agree on, then. Good. Well, thank you for your apology; I reckon we were both abused by that man, and while your behaviour didn't help, you couldn't help it yourself. So, apology accepted. You don't have to make anything up, all right? The best way to make amends is for us to be friends, or at least friendly. And that will show everyone that what your parents did can be overcome. That we can be family. And that includes Draco, all right?"
And now it was Dudley's turn, for the first time, to smile. "Thank you. Draco, I hope we can be friends?"
Draco stood, and reached out a hand to him. "For Harry's sake, if nothing else."
Dudley took the hand, and shook it quite strongly for a few seconds before letting go and sitting down again, now looking quite embarrassed.
"Now," Draco said, "you said something about Dementors?"
"Oh," Harry said, "yes, when Umbridge sent Dementors against me in the holidays after fourth year, they attacked both Dudley and me."
Draco looked from one cousin to the other, rather shocked. "So, Dudley's seen Dementors? And not been Obliviated?" he asked Harry. "And you saved him from them?"
"Yes to all," Harry replied. "What can I say? I like saving people."
"I'm glad of that," said Draco, hugging his fiancé, at which point Dudley decided it was a good time to help himself to a Bath bun.
"So, Dudley," Harry said, "are you still at Smeltings Academy?"
"Yesh," the boy said, then swallowed the mouthful of bun he had eaten, and continued, "sorry. Yes. Final year. I'm a prefect now!"
"Congratulations!" Harry said. "So you've got, what, a couple of months to go?"
"Yeah," Dudley replied. "Something like that. Problem is, that means I have to suck up to Vernon and Petunia for a while yet. And if I go on to study, like I want to, it'll be years…"
Harry put his head on one side. Dudley wanted to study? This was a truly revolutionary idea. "When did this start?" he asked. "You never were at all interested in schoolwork when I lived with you. And what do you want to study?"
"I guess it really all started with the Dementors," he answered. "I mean, they're supposed to suck up all your happiness and leave you with only your bad memories, right?"
The four wizards all nodded; Harry, involuntarily, shuddered as well, and Draco rubbed his back, unconsciously comforting his beloved.
"Well, for me it wasn't quite like that. I suddenly realised what I was really like. Which, frankly, was a little shit. It's the most painful thing that ever happened to me; and Harry saved me from it. So I started thinking about what I owed Harry, and how I could maybe not end up being a big bully and selling drills for a living. And I thought about what I wanted to do; and I decided I really want to build bridges and roads and stuff. Then a vocational counselor at school did an aptitude test, and suggested I could get in to civil engineering. So that's what I'm working for."
By the time he'd finished this speech, Dudley's eyes were shining, and Harry knew this wasn't a flighty idea that would be gone tomorrow; no, this was the real passion that dwelt in Dudley. And he also knew that there was no way Vernon and Petunia were going to get to kill this dream, not if he had anything to do with it.
An idea came to him.
"Dudders, it's your eighteenth birthday soon, isn't it?"
"Yeah, on the twenty-third, a week next Tuesday. Why?"
"Well, you'll be legally an adult then, right? So they have no say after that."
"Yeah, but they still have the money, and the house I have to live in."
"We can fix that," Harry said. "I have money from my parents, Dudders, lots of money. So I can pay for your schooling; and we can house you at Grimmauld Place once you've finished school, and then find you a little place wherever you're studying."
Dudley looked gobsmacked. "You'd do that for me?" he asked; and as Harry looked around the other three, he realised that in fact they had all thought the same thing.
"Of course." Harry replied, his tone one of absolute certainty. "That man abused you as well as me; let's both get free of him, eh?"
"HARRY!" A voice yelled, and Molly Weasley came bursting through the French doors. Harry just managed to stand up before he was enveloped in a huge hug from his adopted mother.
"Now just what exactly are you plotting, Harry?" said a familiar voice, and they were joined by Arthur Weasley and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy as well. While the Malfoys showed more decorum, Harry, who was getting used to reading them a bit now, could see that they too were excited that he was up and about.
Dudley was introduced to the three parents, and Harry explained his plan to get Dudley completely away from his parents' influence. The three were initially a bit taken aback that Harry wanted to help one of his tormentors; but eventually it was Molly who smoothed things out.
"Well, young man," she said, "I've taken Harry under my wing as an adopted son, and if he has forgiven you, then I do too. And since it seems you're losing your family, you'd better join his as well, which means us Weasleys and the Malfoys."
"Agreed," said Lucius, extending a hand of welcome to the boy, who shook it as eagerly as he had Draco's. "So, you'll be settled on the twenty-third?"
"That's the idea," Harry replied.
"Well, gentlemen," Lucius continued, turning to the Aurors, "looks like we have a date."
"It does indeed," Robin replied, with a smile. "Now, Mr Dursley, I rather think we should see about getting you back to school."
"Um," said Dudley, "about that name. Harry, do you think, maybe, I could use 'Potter' instead?"
Harry gasped. "Do you really hate them that much?" he asked.
"Yes," Dudley replied, and there was no mistaking the vehement hatred in his voice.
"Well," Harry replied, "if you really want to, I'd be honoured. If that works in Wizarding terms?" he asked, turning to Arthur Weasley.
"Oh, that's no problem at all," Arthur replied. "The Potter family being long established, it's quite acceptable to pull cousins into the line and adopt them. I gather that Dudley is a M- is not magical?"
"That's right," Harry said, feeling oddly grateful that Arthur had pulled himself up before saying 'Muggle'.
"Then it would be the same as having a squib in the family. Not ideal, of course; we would all like our relatives to be magical. But he would have a recognised place in the Wizarding world as well as the ordinary one. Would you like me to have papers drawn up, Dudley? We could have it be effective on the twenty-third as well, if you wish."
"Yes, please," said Dudley, then farewelled them all as the Aurors took him to the car and thence back to school, arriving back in good time for the evening meal, which at Smeltings was called 'tea', a happier boy than he had been since the Dementor attack. A mood which was so unprecedented, so remarkable, and long-lasting, that Sunday the fourteenth was long after remembered by his contemporaries as Happy Dudley Day.

The wizards and witches sat in Harry's garden chatting for a while; but eventually Harry yawned and snuggled a little into Draco's arms. Mappy was there in an instant, took a good look at him, and vanished again.
"What was that about?" Harry asked.
"Healer Touauld asked Mappy to keep a good eye on you, especially if you got tired," Narcissa replied gently. "I imagine he's gone to fetch her."
And indeed the Healer appeared a few moments later.
"Sorry, Mr Malfoy, I need to cast a diagnostic spell," she asked, and Draco, taking the hint, sat Harry upright next to him, then made sure they weren't touching; no-one wanted a repeat of the Haussmann Shield incident, it made the diagnostic all but useless.
"Ah," Touauld clucked once the spell had done its work. "Mr Potter, you continue to make remarkable progress. I think it would be a good thing to start the next batch of treatment immediately, if that's all right with you?"
Harry nodded.
"Do we have the requisite potions?" she asked Draco, who nodded. He had taken it upon himself to brew everything Touauld asked for, and wouldn't hear of using anyone else's potions on his fiancé, a stubbornness that Touauld found both extremely annoying – she had all the potions required in her own supplies, there would not have been any waiting for them – and extremely endearing – the Malfoy boy clearly loved Harry, and they were going to have a rich and rewarding marriage, she thought.
And so an hour later, while Dudley was getting his tea, Harry was back in bed, fast asleep.

As soon as Harry was asleep, Draco and Lucius had a small conference in Lucius's study. Lucius showed Draco the Daily Prophet, which caused the younger man to emit a low whistle.
"Well, I can see why you didn't show Harry this!" he said. "Do we have a plan to deal with it?"
"We have the beginnings of one," Lucius replied, outlining the meeting that had taken place in his study that afternoon. "But of course, we need to see what they have to say tomorrow."
"All right," Draco agreed.
Mappy knocked on the door – no-one entered Lucius's study uninvited, not even the house-elves – and entered.
"Is Harry alright?" Draco asked at once.
"Master Harry Potter is being sleeping perfectly happily, Master Draco," the elf replied. "But Master Draco's friend Mistress Pansy Parkinson be Floo-calling asking if Master Draco and Master Harry are well and if she is being visiting?"
Draco looked at his father for permission. They both shared the same thought: it was good that Draco's friend was concerned, especially after the Prophet article. They would need all the friends they could get.
"Why don't you call around, Draco? A night of the company of friends would be good for you."

It was an unusual gathering in the family drawing room that night: Pansy had brought Millicent, Blaise and Theo along, while Draco had Flooed the twins, who had both come and brought Angelina, Neville, Luna, Ginny and Robin. Narcissa insisted that everyone eat, buffet-style; and Lucius provided elf-wine and firewhiskey; and it wasn't long before the combination of friends, food, drink and the fun that seemed to permanently surround the twins had everyone in high spirits.
Eventually, Pansy demanded a speech from Draco, as their host.
"Well, I don't often give speeches," Draco began, and ignored a cat-call of "still too often!" from Blaise, "but I'm really touched that you guys came along tonight. As you know, Harry's upstairs, having the second round of healing potions; we don't know how long he'll be out, but the Healer thinks not more than a few days."
"Will he be awake on the twenty-second?" Neville asked, looking concerned.
"Yes, he should be," Draco replied; "why?"
Neville blushed beetroot-red, which made the girls all coo. "Well, George and I," he began, then looked to George for confirmation; the twin nodded, so he continued, "George and I are planning on that being our wedding day, and I was hoping to ask Harry to be my, um, best man."
There were general congratulations, and of course another round of drinks was called for to toast the happy couple. Draco assured Neville that of course Harry would do it; or, if he couldn't, and Neville wanted, Draco would do it for him.
"Thanks, Draco," Neville replied, obviously touched by this gesture of friendship. "That means more than I can say."
"Oi! No being all Hufflepuff!" Blaise called out.
They sat in companionable silence for a while, and then it was Fred who spoke next.
"So Draco, Harry's all right and looked after?"
The blond nodded in reply.
"Is there anything he would be doing now / that we could do for him?" George and Fred asked.
This question drew a general murmur of agreement, and in his turn, Draco was touched by the friendship of the people in the room.
"There is one thing," he replied. "The repairs to Grimmauld Place. We've finished the first two floors, but there's still three to go. Harry wanted them finished before Hermione and Ron got back next Saturday."
"So exactly how much work is involved?" Blaise asked.
Draco drew a rough sketch map, and itemised the necessary repairs floor by floor. There was, it appeared, quite a bit of work to be done.
"Sounds like a bit of challenge to me," Angelina remarked.
"What do we all think, then?" George asked.
And they all replied with a single voice.
"Challenge accepted!"

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