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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
- 46
- 47
- 48
47. Returning into Friendly Hands …
Tuesday 23 June
Tap, tap, tap.
The sleeping lad came awake feeling rather groggy and peered over at the alarm clock on his bedside table. Half past six in the morning. He groaned and turned over.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
"Shut up", he yelled, and pulled the pillow tight around his ears.
Tap, tap, tap, tap.
Exasperated, he sprang out of bed, determined to find the source of the noise. Probably the other sixth years pranking him on his birthday, he thought. But as his sleep-filled eyes came unstuck, he saw that that wasn't the case; unless they had taken on a whole new range of pranks.
For the source of the noise was a very large, and very regal looking, eagle owl tapping at his window. He opened the window, and the owl flew in and dropped a letter and tiny package onto his bed, then settled onto the back of the chair at his desk, fixing him with a baleful stare. He looked back and to his surprise, the package had expanded.
Magic. Well, it figures, Dudley Dursley told himself. He wondered just what the protocol was with owls; this was the first wizarding one he'd ever seen that hadn't just dropped its payload and flown off. The bird seemed to just sit there and stare at him; it was rather freaking him out, to be honest. He picked up the letter, and extracted the piece of parchment within. He flicked down to the signature; the letter was, of course, from his cousin Harry.

Dear Dudders, it began, and he smiled to read it.

Happy birthday!

it went on, and those simple, clichéd words cut him to the core. He knew for a fact that the Dursleys hadn't ever said that to Harry; or if they had, they certainly wouldn't have meant it. Given their history, he would not have been at all surprised if Harry had simply ignored his birthday altogether; that was all he deserved. He read on.

Please don't mind the owl; he belongs to Draco; his name is Ozymandias, and he is very well behaved. I've told him you might want to send a reply, so he won't go anywhere until you send him. I've put a couple of owl treats in the package; you should probably stop reading and give him one straight away.

Dudley chuckled, glad that his apprehension had been anticipated; he sobered a little when he reflected that of course, having not grown up with wizards, this had all been new to Harry recently, so he probably well understood that Dudley would need the advice. A strange warmness filled his heart and it took him a few moments to recognise it for what it was: a mixed feeling of gratitude and shame for the care Harry was taking for him.
He opened the package; on top was a small bag marked 'For Ozymandias', and he extracted a couple of the strange-smelling items. The owl stretched and seemed to get excited as soon as he turned to it; he proffered the treats on his palm, and the bird very gently reached out and took one from him, then settled down and fixed him a beady stare again.
"Have it your way," he said, and read on.

Now, to help you celebrate, there's also some wizarding chocolate; don't eat it all at once, and don't let anyone else see it. The chocolate frogs jump just once by magic when you take them out of the wrapper, and you really don't want to explain that to anyone else, right? Also, as well as the chocolate, Draco took me to Paris on Sunday and I found a little present for you. Hope you like it, since you're interested in engineering.
Arthur gave me all of the paperwork you need for your name change last night. The deed enclosed makes you a Potter in the eyes of the Ministry and the Muggle authorities as soon as you fill out the paperwork and lodge it. You'll need a couple of witnesses; and for the Wizarding bit, you'll need me to perform a small ritual with you. We'll visit you this afternoon and sort that out at the same time as the money and everything; Lucius has squared it with the school that it's important enough for you to cut afternoon classes so we'll take you to the Muggle office. They have a premium service where they'll do it while you wait.
I'm thrilled to be going to have you really, officially, in my family!
Harry
PS: Since we'll be there today, you don't need to reply to me; but I thought you might like to send your mum and dad a greeting via the owl. There's some extra parchment in case you do. He'll happily take the letter to them. There's no need to worry too much about the address; he can find anyone. It's a standard thing in our world.

Dudley sat on his bed, tears streaming from his eyes at the sheer love that flowed out of this simple letter. He wiped his face, and washed up in the little basin he had in the room now that he was a prefect. He really, really did not want anyone to see that he had blubbed. Even on his birthday, that was something he would never live down.
Presently, he turned back to the owl.
"What do you think? Would you take a letter to my parents? The Dursleys? Harry says you know where they live?"
The owl inclined its head to him imperiously, as if to say, 'of course'. Dudley chuckled and reached for the parchment.

Draco stumbled into the kitchen to find that once again Harry had got up well before him and had breakfast ready. To his surprise, Ron Weasley was sitting in the kitchen eating with Harry.
"Morning," he said to Ron. "I thought you and Hermione were staying at the Burrow last night?"
"Yeah, we did," Ron answered, "but it's a bit busy over there for me, I thought I'd come here for a bit of peace.
Draco smirked, and accepted a plate of food that Harry floated over to him.
"Kreacher still helping with Miriam?" he asked with a grin.
"Yeah," Ron said, smiling. "Mrs Granger really appreciates having him around. He still mutters about 'mud-bloods' and Hermione's explained to her mum why she should get all upset about it; but she just smiles and tells him to speak up, she's not young and won't have mumbling. Which shuts him up. So everyone is happy about it."
"Even him, I'll warrant," Draco said.
"Yeah, I think so," Ron said, surprised. He hadn't really thought about it; but yes, Kreacher certainly seemed to be enjoying the work, as far as he could tell.
"I'm sure of it," Harry replied. "If he wasn't, he would have found some reason to come back here. Did Nev and George get off on honeymoon all right?"
"Mmm," Ron said affirmatively, the large lump of sausage in his mouth preventing him from saying anything else for a moment. The other two waited patiently until he continued, "yes, they're off; no-one knows where but Fred; and he isn't telling. Some Muggle hotel, apparently. Suggested, if rumours are true, by Draco's dad."
Draco arched an eyebrow. In that case, he thought to himself, there were a number of distinctly pleasant possibilities: a small hotel in the Cotswolds, a chateau in the Loire Valley, and a very posh hotel Lucius owned in Italy sprang to mind. He'd have to question his father on the subject, he thought; after all, Harry and he would need a place to have a honeymoon …
"So, what are you up to today, Weas- Ron?" he asked. If Ron noticed the blatant subject change, or the near use of his surname, he showed no sign.
"Helping Margaret and Peter," he replied. "They had a surveyor friend look over their house yesterday. Needs a bit of work, they tell me. I thought we'd see what we can do with magic. Actually," Ron said, suddenly remembering that the two other men had helped with the rebuilding of Hogwarts while he and Hermione had been in Australia, "you two have a bit of experience with renovations, right? Do you want to lend a hand?"
"We'd love to," Draco replied, while Harry said "sorry, I can't," at exactly the same time.
"Oh?" Draco asked, looking at Harry.
"Lucius and I have to sort out some formalities with Dudley today, as it's his birthday and he's now legally an adult, remember?" Harry replied to Draco.
"Dudley?" Ron asked. "As in, your cousin Dudley?"
"Yeah," Harry replied, a little hesitantly. He really didn't want a fight about it. "He and I have made peace, Ron. He wants to get away from his parents, so we're going to help him out with that."
Ron took a deep breath. He had a fair idea what Dudley had done to Harry, none of it good; but then he also had a fair idea what Draco had done to Harry, and they'd come to terms with that, so he supposed for Harry's sake they could get to grips with Dudley as well.
"OK," he said. "How can we help?"
Harry beamed. He loved his friends. "Well, I think, for today, I'm good; Lucius has this one covered. How about Draco helps you out though?"
Ron looked a little shell-shocked at the thought, but turned to the blond.
"Sure, if you want to," he answered.
"Like I said, I'd love to," Draco replied. That was, after all, what friends did; he'd learnt that much from the Gryffindors. And it was clear that was what Harry wanted; at that moment, Draco would have said anything to keep the smile on Harry's face.
The moment was saved from becoming mawkish and sentimental by a knock on a window, and when they opened it, three owls came in bearing official-looking envelopes, one for each of them. They gave the owls treats and sped them on their way before sitting down to open the letters.
As he opened his, Draco had a pensive expression on his face.
"Harry," he asked absent-mindedly while slitting the envelope with a butter-knife, "any idea where Ozymandias is?"
Harry looked a little sheepish. "Er, yes; I borrowed him to send Dudley a birthday letter. Sorry, I should have asked."
"Not at all," Draco said, reading the letter, "I said you could use him whenever you needed to. It's from Hogwarts."
The last observation was of course about the letters; but as the other two were reading theirs at the same time, it was quite unnecessary, and even as he said it, Draco felt a little ashamed at having pointed out the obvious.
"Well, I guess we're all going?" Ron asked, and the other two nodded. He pointed back at the letter, which contained extra details about the arrangements for the eighth years. "A whole new tower, eh? Wonder what it's like?"
Draco and Harry nearly kept it together; but when they accidentally caught each other's eye, they burst out with laughter.
"What?" Ron asked, confused.
"The Tower was designed by Flitwick and Draco and I were given the task of building it," Harry confessed. "So we're the only two who know. We're sworn to secrecy; but I can tell you it's octagonal in shape, and that it's absolutely brilliant."
"All right!" Ron said, sure that Harry would have done a good job and happy to take his word for it. It sounded like they had an interesting year ahead of them. Shared rooms, two people to a room, the letter had said. He guessed Harry and Draco would share, and he wondered who he would be sharing with.
But anyway, time was a-wasting, and there was work to do. If he didn't get back to the Burrow soon, someone might come looking for him; and he really didn't want Hermione to scold him about bunking off. Again.
"Draco, you right to go, mate?"
Draco looked at Harry.
"Yes, go," Harry said. "You know what I asked, I'm sure you'll keep to it."
Ron looked perplexed.
"Harry's legally responsible for me, remember?" Draco remarked. "I'm not allowed to apparate and I'm only supposed to go places he allows me to."
"That sucks," Ron said, and Draco wondered which of them the sympathy in his voice was for; but then, perhaps it was for both of them: Harry having to be in charge, and Draco having to be treated like a child.
"Yeah," the blond agreed. "But it's fine as long as I stick with you."
Ron looked at him amazed. "You actually want to stick with me?" he asked, flabbergasted.
Draco gave him a mock glare in return. "No, but needs must," he replied; but the grin on his face belied his words, and earned him one in reply from the redhead.
"All right, let's go!" he said; and they did.

Vernon groaned as he struggled out of bed. He looked at the clock. Could that be right? After seven?
He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Hmm. Quarter past seven o'clock, he saw. Just time for … Shit! He was supposed to be at his desk in less than an hour… And then he remembered. Oh. No need to go to work. He'd been fired.
He lay back again, hoping to get some more shut-eye. He felt exhausted. And that blasted tummy trouble was still there…
A moment later he bolted out of bed and just made it to the bathroom before threw up. Well, he thought, his throat burning with the foul taste of bile, I'm not going to get any more sleep now. I might as well get on with the day. Fifteen minutes later, after a quick shower and shave, he made it down to the kitchen.
"Morning, 'Tunia," he said to his wife, who must have got up with the sparrows, and was sitting dressed rather primly at the table, drinking a cup of tea. Her fourth for the day, in fact, but he didn't know that. "Any chance of breakfast?"
"Do you think you're up for it?" she asked, her voice sounding a little more harsh than she meant it to. The feeling of dread from the night before had returned with a vengeance.
But if Vernon noticed, he didn't comment. "You're right," he said. "Stomach still a bit dodgy. Might try some tea and toast."
It seemed that tea and dry toast was acceptable to his system this morning. When he had eaten, she silently passed him the local morning paper, which lay still folded on the table. He idly wondered why Petunia had not read it already as he leafed through it. The first couple of pages were the usual drivel. But then he came across a full page photo spread. At first glance, it looked quite jovial; that standard of this rag, silly photos with captions like 'Colonel and Mrs Marchbanks celebrate the opening of the season', that sort of thing.
Except the caption wasn't about some inconsequential social-climbing idiot or other. It was about them.
'Can this really be our own Petunia and Vernon Dursley?' the page screamed at him. He stared at the photographs, transfixed with horror. It was immediately clear to him that the they had been taken at the dinner on Sunday night. The suit he had bought that morning and been so proud of was definitely way beneath the class of the restaurant, and it just looked cheap against the beautiful surroundings. And the photos made his beautiful Petunia look positively plain. The accessories she had bought, which they had thought smart, looked like costume jewellery. There was even a photo of Narcissa standing next to her, and the contrast between the rubies she was wearing on her Parisian dress and Petunia's outfit was obvious, even in the poor quality newspaper photograph.
Vernon dropped his head in his hands. He had planned on going into work and grovelling for his job back; but it was obvious now that that was a no-go. This story would cause a great hue and cry. He'd have to wait for that to die down. Oh well, a few days, it would all blow over, he thought, as he turned the page and his eyes lit on the next headline: Surrey Children in Danger.
He started reading the article for want of anything better to do. The article started for all the world as if it was one of those fluffy, no-content pieces about how deplorable it was that children should suffer at the hands of adults. They always made him gag; as far as he was concerned, it was just as deplorable that adults should suffer at the hands of children, or in his case freaks, but no-one ever wrote about that.
But it did not take long before he recognised the piece for what it was. While it was light on facts, and stopped short of any allegations, it mentioned policemen who had falsified evidence; employees who had lied about their treatment of family members; men taking their family on holiday and leaving some poor child behind; and suggested darkly at 'domestic abuse and the beating of children within our own neighbourhood, here in Little Whinging'. And was it his imagination, or was it no accident that one of the photographs from the previous page had somehow ended up being printed next to the article?
His brows darkened. Someone had been talking, he thought. Someone was going to get a stern talking-to. And, even with the freak gone for good, Vernon wasn't going to go anywhere for a week. People around here had long memories; someone was bound to remember him and put two and two together.
While he was in the middle of these thoughts, all of a sudden there came a knock on the window of the front room. Petunia started, and jumped almost out of her seat.
"Oh no!" she said in alarm. "It's not those hooligans again!"
"What hooligans?" Vernon demanded.
"Someone threw a flowerpot through the window yesterday," she replied, timorously. "Made a horrid mess."
"WHAT?" Vernon roared as he jumped to his feet. He was very concerned; his 'Tunia could take care of herself, she was a fighter; but somehow, the fight seemed to have all gone out of her. He ran into the front room, expecting trouble; a rock through the window perhaps.
But there was no rock, and no broken glass; at the window there was a bird tapping on the glass. He opened the window to shoo it away; but instead, it flew in and landed on his favourite chair.
"OI!" he said to it. "Clear off!"
The bird cocked its head and looked at him. If he had supposed the creature capable of rational thought, he would have said it was a disdainful look; but Vernon Dursley did not indulge in such flights of fancy. The owl, for he now realised that was what it was, flew off the chair, depositing a letter on the rug as it flew out of the still-open window. Mechanically, Vernon picked up the letter and went into the kitchen.
"It's one of those blasted freak letters," he said, looking at the envelope in his hand. Petunia glanced over, and then blanched.
"That's Dudders' writing," she said. "Give it here."
He did, and she opened the envelope and extracted the parchment. The letter was not very long; it only took her a minute to read it. Her face went even paler. She handed it back to her husband, and told him to read it out loud.

Dear Petunia and Vernon,

it began, and already she felt awful: her Dudders referring to them by name, rather than 'Mum and Dad'.

Now that I've reached eighteen, and am legally an adult, I've decided I have to square up to a few things. You guys brought me up, and never spared me anything; I used to think that was a good thing, that you were the best parents in the world. You gave me everything I wanted. But then Harry saved me from that Demented thing, and it kind of changed my view of a few things.
I realised that you don't love him at all. And that's not OK. He came to us as a helpless baby; we treated him like a slave. That's not OK. You gave me everything I ever asked for; you never gave him anything. Which just made me a greedy pig and a bully, and him a fearful, love-starved mess.
Then I realised you didn't really love me, either. You just wanted me to be like you. And in the end it was him who showed me that; it was him who told me I could be who I want to be, not who you want to be.
So that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to be my own man. You've spoilt me; but I can straighten out. But I don't really think you can help me any more, so this is it, really. Harry has welcomed me into his family; so I'm leaving yours. From today, I reject all things Dursley; from today, I will be a Potter.
Dudley .

"That ungrateful bastard!" Vernon shouted. "Why, he-, he-, he can't do this!" he spluttered.
"Vernon…," Petunia said in a low voice; but he didn't hear her as he ranted on.
"I'll take him out of that school!"
"Vernon!" a little louder this time…
"If he's not a Dursley, I won't pay another penny piece for his education!"
"VERNON!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs. That did it; he shut up and looked at her, stupefied that she would actually shout at him.
"That's better," she said, fixing a beady eye on him. "Now, you listen to me. That is EXACTLY the attitude that caused everything with Harry."
"Wha—" he said, but she cut him off with a glance.
"Don't. If we ever want to see Dudley again, and I assure you I do, we are going to have to play nice here."
Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door.

Harry pottered around Grimmauld Place for half an hour or so; Ozymandias returned, having let himself in through the open slit in the owl-loft at the top of the house, and Harry fed him owl treats, and sat at the table with a fresh cup of tea. He looked over at the eagle owl, sitting on his perch. The bird looked for all the world as though he was out of sorts.
"You miss him too, don't you?" Harry asked.
Ozymandias looked at him, gave a slow, mournful nod, and set to preening his feathers.
"This is stupid," Harry said. "Draco's been gone less than an hour, and here I am moaning about it to a bird!"
This outburst earned him a filthy look, and he apologized to the owl; then felt stupid all over again for doing so.
"Right!" he said, mostly to himself. "I am not going to sit here moping!"
He got up, took a pinch of Floo powder, and called the Manor.
"Good morning, Harry," Narcissa said, once she had been alerted to the call by Dippy. "How can I help?"
"Er, it's a bit stupid I guess," Harry began; Narcissa held her tongue and let him continue, "but Draco has gone off with Ron and Hermione and I didn't because I have to go with Lucius, and I guess … I miss him. After an hour. How sad is that?"
Narcissa hid the smile that came unbidden to her lips. It would not do for Harry to think she was making fun at him. But in fact she thought it was very sweet that the two were so much in love.
"Why don't you come through?" she invited. "You don't have to be there alone."
He smiled at her, grateful that she understood.
"Thanks, I will," he said, reaching for another pinch of powder.

Having watched Ron eat a large breakfast already, Draco was amused that as soon as they arrived at the Burrow, Molly sat them both down and insisted that they must be starving and in need of breakfast.
"Thanks mum," Ron said, accepting a plate of bacon and eggs as he gave Draco a sly wink.
"Just tea and toast thanks," Draco said when Molly looked at him expectantly. "I'm not feeling particularly hungry just for the moment."
Molly shook her head, obviously worried that he wasn't eating enough. It gave Draco a strange feeling in his chest; the former feud between Malfoys and Weasleys was clearly dead and buried.
"Morning, Draco!" Hermione said breezily as she wandered into the kitchen, clutching a squirming Miriam tightly. "Is Harry here?"
"Harry has to—" Ron began, and Draco gave him a warning look.
"—run a few errands with my father," the blond finished. He knew Harry really wouldn't want Hermione to get all worked up about Dudley before he could explain things himself.
The brunette looked at him sternly for a few seconds, but seemed to accept the answer at face value.
"All right," she said, taking a seat. "We'll just wait for Ron to finish his –"
"Second", Draco mouthed.
"—third breakfast," Hermione said, too quietly for anyone but the three of them to hear. Ron brushed bright red at having been caught out, and Draco roared with laughter.
Molly, puzzled, turned around to see the scene, and decided that they were all adults, and she probably didn't want to know. At least Draco seemed to enjoy being at the Burrow; that was a positive thing, she thought. She would hate for it to become a bone of contention for Harry; the last thing she wanted was for her seventh son to avoid coming because of the blond. And that set her thinking: Neville was a day older than Harry, did that mean he was seventh and Harry eighth? Or was that all too silly?
She was interrupted by the children getting up from the table. Ron seemed to have finished breakfast in record time, she mused.
"Well, we should go," Ron said.
"Yes," Hermione said, still smirking at having put Ron so out of countenance. "Mum and Dad are already there; shall we apparate?"
"I have to Floo, sorry," Draco said mournfully.
Hermione's face fell. Of course he did; she knew about the terms of his release, and berated herself for not remembering. But Draco gave her a small smile, to show that it didn't matter and there were no hard feelings.
"Of course," she said, shortly. "Floo it is then. We'll have to get a connection set up to the network for you, though. That could take a while…"
Ron grinned. "Not if dad does it. It takes them about twenty minutes if it's a ministerial level request."
A Floo-call to Arthur Weasley, and half an hour later they were at the Granger's house.

Petunia opened the door to find that nice Mr Simpkins from No 10 on the doorstep.
"Oh!" she said brightly. "Mr Simpkins! Do come in!"
She ushered him into the front room and offered him a seat.
"No, I'm sorry my dear, but I won't sit. I shan't be here long. Is Mr Dursley there?"
Vernon, hearing his name, came into the room with them.
"Ah," Mr Simpkins said, looking them up and down. Mr Simpkins was the very stereotype of a town solicitor, elderly and grey. He was quite used to all sorts of strange people walking into his practice; he had learnt long ago to smile and be friendly to all, but never to believe a word they said until it could be proven.
"I'll get straight to the point," he said. "You'll have seen the newspaper this morning?"
The Dursleys nodded, not quite sure what to make of the normally genial man, who was currently eyeing them with a carefully blank face.
"I'm afraid," he continued, "that the majority of your neighbours have, too. And the ones in Privet Drive, at least, seem to have come firmly to the view that you are not the people they thought you were."
"I see," said Vernon shortly. "Who do they think we are now?"
"Bluntly," the older man replied, "a shameless hussy and a child-molester."
Vernon went red. "How dare they?" he blustered.
The solicitor eyed him critically. Years of experience told him this was not the bluster of an innocent man; on the contrary, it was exactly how a bully behaved when his bullying had been found out.
"I think," he said quietly, "that it is not up to you or me to tell people what to dare to think. But I do suggest, Mr Dursley, that you watch your step. There are no effective laws in this country to stop gossip; I for one am glad of that. You stand accused in the court of public opinion; that may prove even more harmful to you in the long run than the courts of the land."
Vernon looked at him, going redder and redder, and formed his hands into fists.
"Get. Out." He said, through gritted teeth.
"Certainly," Mr Simpkins said mildly, and did so.
When the front door had closed, Vernon let out a long sigh. Now that the immediate anger had gone, he felt all weak at the knees, and sank into his favourite armchair. It was at this point that he discovered that the blasted eagle owl had left not only the letter, but another deposit behind; one that he had now ground into the seat of his pants.
"Shit!" he screamed; and though this outburst met with Petunia's stony-faced disapproval, it was, at least, entirely factually correct.

Harry sat in his garden at Malfoy Manor, a cup of tea laced liberally with honey in his hand. Narcissa and Lucius had had urgent business with some Italian visitors, and were shut up in Lucius's study; he couldn't begrudge them this, feeling that he had pretty much forced himself on them this morning. But he would have welcomed their company nonetheless.
There was a rustle of feathers, and Ozymandias landed next to him.
"Hello there," Harry said, then wondered why Draco's owl was here. Perhaps… He hoped… "Have you got a letter for me?"
The bird shook his head, not looking at him. Harry could have sworn he was ashamed.
"OK, so why are you here? Were you just lonely too?"
Ozymandias lifted his head slightly, glanced at Harry, and then started preening himself. Harry decided that probably meant 'yes'. Well, he didn't mind the bird sitting there with him, he decided. He put his arms crossed on the table, and rested his head on them.
How stupid is this? He thought to himself. Here he was, it was a pleasant day, but the only thing he could think of was how much he wished Draco was there. It made him wonder if this was how Draco might have felt while Harry was healing, being without him for days.…
"Harry?" a voice asked, interrupting his dreams. By the position of the sun, it was clear that he must have fallen asleep for a couple of hours. He woke up, groggy, and looked up at the newcomer. He didn't recognise him at first; he knew as soon as he heard the voice that it wasn't the voice he wanted to hear, so he didn't feel in a great hurry.
He looked up to see the concerned eyes of Blaise Zabini looking down at him.
"Harry?" he asked again, the hesitation in his voice all too evident. "Um, you're not looking so well."
"Thanks," Harry said drily, and shook his head to wake himself up properly. "Not a good position for sleeping", he continued, trying to explain away his bedraggled look.
Blaise pursed his lips. It was an excuse, he knew that; and he didn't believe it. There was more to it than that. But Harry wasn't a close enough friend for him to call him on it.
"The Malfoys were concerned for you. They have nearly finished the business with my mother and step-father, so sent me to make sure you were all right. And say they will come out in a minute."
"Oh," Harry said, a little surprised to learn that it was Blaise's parents that the Malfoys were seeing; but he guessed that the name they had said – Renzi – was Blaise's step-father's name; his mother's married name was of course no longer Zabini. Also, he was not quite sure why he was being given the warning. Did they think he needed time to groom himself or something?
"Ah, there you are," came Narcissa's dulcet tones, interrupting his thoughts. "We wondered if perhaps you'd gone up for a short nap."
Harry was mystified. "Do I look like I need one?" he asked.
Narcissa gave him a look that said more clearly than words did that he did indeed look exactly like he needed one; then she tipped her head on one side, appraising him.
"Hmm," she said. "I see you have indeed had a nap; are you feeling any better for it?"
Harry pondered the question. It was pretty direct, for a Slytherin; but this was his future mother-in-law, she probably deserved to know the truth.
"Er, not really," came the reply.
"I didn't think so," she said. "I think perhaps we had better get Healer Touauld to have a look at you, just to be sure."
"Oh!" Harry rejoined, "Oh, I'm sure there's no need to bother her–" But he stopped in mid-sentence; Narcissa had already gone inside to make arrangements. It was clear that he wasn't getting out of this one easily.

Agnes Touauld did not share Harry's opinion; after taking Harry into Draco's bedroom for a full examination, she turned to Narcissa, who had accompanied them unbidden, and announced that she was very glad to be called in.
"You, young man, have been overdoing it," she said. "I think we need to do what I probably should have done in the first place and call in a specialist mind healer."
Harry looked like he would object; Narcissa silenced him with a look. "Is there someone you would recommend?" she asked.
"Oh, I'll get Armand in," she said breezily, "if that's all right with Mr Potter?"
Harry waved his agreement. It was quite clear to him that he wasn't really going to get a say in his healing, not with these two witches, and he decided to bow to the inevitable.
"Who is Armand?" he asked.
"Armand Ionescu," Touauld replied.
"The best mind healer St Mungo's ever had," Narcissa added helpfully, "but now retired, unfortunately."
Harry wondered aloud why someone retired would want to see him.
"Because he's also my husband," Touauld replied succinctly, and turned to Narcissa. "Where can I Floo-call from?"
Narcissa took her out of the room; she returned about fifteen minutes later.
"Healer Touauld has returned home, and Mr Ionescu will visit you tomorrow morning," she informed him. "You and Draco are to let him know where you are first thing. But for the moment, they both think it's important that we get hold of Draco and you spend the next little while close to one another."
Harry grimaced, and Narcissa had no trouble understanding the look on his face.
"Harry, you're not being stupid, or silly, or a clingy nuisance," she said, eyeing him fondly. "You are still not well, even though you may feel you are. You have been through a major healing event; you still need physical reassurance."
"OK," Harry replied, with a sheepish grin. "But Draco is helping the Grangers at their house, I don't know where that is."
Narcissa smiled at him. "Oh, I'm sure that Mappy will find him. I think perhaps I might invite them all to lunch?"
Harry's eyes went wide at this; Narcissa Malfoy would invite Muggles to Malfoy Manor? The sheer love of the gesture brought a lump to his throat, and, quite unable to speak, he simply nodded in reply.
Narcissa called Mappy and explained what was wanted.
"Of course, Mistress!" the elf replied happily. "Mappy will be finding Master Draco without delay!" With that, he vanished.

To his very great surprise, Draco had very much enjoyed the morning. It had taken an hour and a half to complete the preliminary diagnostic spell work, largely because Granger – Hermione, he berated himself – insisted on taking copious notes and questioning him on everything; but eventually he had managed to convince her to shut up long enough to actually cast some spells, and discover by doing, something she seemed rather bad at. She insisted that they would do a much better job if they understood everything first; which was rather blown out of the water when they started casting spells in earnest, and Ron managed to finish two rooms before Hermione had got very far from one.
"I don't understand!" she wailed. "How can Ron be so much better than me when he hasn't fully grasped the theory?"
"Because magic is elemental," Draco explained patiently. "It is attuned to your whole being, not just your mind. Weas—Ron can control his through feelings as well as mind, and that makes for stronger magic in practice."
Hermione blinked at that. No-one had ever suggested such a thing to her at Hogwarts, and she huffily pointed this out to the blond.
Draco just smiled at her and asked, "who would have dared?" That shut her up.
An hour later, he had taught her about flowing into the spell – not trying to understand it in every detail, just letting it be, and directing it with her emotional control – and he could almost see the moment when it all clicked. She had her eyes shut and was clearly concentrating hard; the mildew in the walls was evaporating slowly but steadily; and then suddenly, she opened her eyes.
"Oh!" she said, and the mildew was all gone and the walls were pristine.
Draco smirked. "Oh, indeed," he said. "Well done; I don't think I've ever seen anyone fix mildew so quickly."
Hermione smiled, but did not get to say anything as a house-elf appeared in front of her.
"Yes, Mappy?" Draco drawled.
"Mistress Narcissa is saying Healer Madam Touauld is saying Master Harry is needing Master Draco right away! And is asking if Master Draco's friends is please all being coming to lunch?"
"What?" Hermione said, perplexed.
Draco interpreted for her: "apparently Harry is at the Manor and needs me. If Touauld has been there, it must be pretty bad, so I'll Floo straight away. In the meantime, would you and your family do us the honour of being our guests for lunch?"
Hermione giggled. Draco might be a stuck-up ponce at times, but he did have nice manners.
"I'm sure that would be lovely. Please thank your mother for us. It's amazingly kind of her to invite Muggles to her house. I'll round everybody up; we're practically done here, away. Oh, and Draco?"
The blond, who had started for the fireplace, stopped and looked back.
"Thank you for your help today," the brunette said, and the sincerity in her eyes quite took his breath away.
"You're welcome," he said rather lamely, and then Flooed home to the Manor.

Blaise and his mother also stayed for lunch, his step-father having returned to work at whatever it was he did in the City. Harry was at first rather overwhelmed by the beautiful witch; but she gushed and cooed over Miriam, at which everyone laughed, and all the tension melted away.
They dined on the main lawn, so that Miriam could play on the grass, supervised by Mappy and Dippy. The toddler clearly adored the strange little creatures, and it was equally clear that the feeling was mutual. Harry rather wondered why they hadn't had lunch in a less open space, until Narcissa suggested that he might like to show Ron and Hermione his garden. Then he smiled at her gratefully, understanding that she was giving them a chance to spend time without the 'boring' grown-ups.
Ron and Hermione loved the garden, and were amazed to learn that the Malfoys had made it especially for him. Harry blushed as the story was told, and changed the subject by explaining that this was also the garden where they captured Yaxley. Ron knew the story from emails, but he made Harry, Draco and Blaise explain in detail what had happened and where everyone had stood and so on, asking such detailed questions that eventually Hermione threw up her hands in horror.
"Enough, already!" she all but screamed. "Do you really need to know every little detail of what happened?"
But the others looked at her, and the two Gryffindor youths burst out laughing (which did not help her temper at all).
"Now you know how it feels when someone wants to know everything!" they told her.

On the lawn, Peter and Margaret heard their daughter's raised voice and their ears pricked up.
"I shouldn't worry," Narcissa said. "It's only four boys against her, that's nearly a fair fight!"
Peter looked scandalised at this, but Margaret and Mrs Renzi laughed.
"Tell me," Mrs Granger asked, delicately (as she thought) changing the subject, "do you just have these two elves? Or are there more?"
Narcissa stumbled for a second. This wasn't the sort of question one asked; but of course the Muggles didn't know that. How to answer?
"Ah," she said, settling on candour with a small glossing over the bumpy points as the simplest and best policy. She wasn't, of course, going to mention that they didn't wish to flaunt their wealth for fear the Ministry might still confiscate it. But it wasn't like the Grangers were likely to cause trouble, after all; and Blaise's mum was aware of the situation. "No. The Malfoys have other houses with larger staffs; but we pared the Manor down to just these two when we had a rather unpleasant house guest, and we've decided to make do with them since out of habit, I suppose."
"Oh," said Margaret, satisfied. "They certainly seem to do an amazing job – your home is truly lovely, Mrs Malfoy."
"Thank you," Narcissa replied, pleased at the compliment. "And please, do call me Narcissa."

That afternoon there was an unusual assortment of persons in the Bursar's office at Smeltings Academy. It was not that unusual to have the headmaster present, of course; nor a student; and the gentleman present had an aristocratic bearing about him that was quite the sort of tone they wanted; but the bursar was unsure of the other young man; he seemed quiet and pleasant enough, but there was something about him that told the man he wouldn't fit in at Smeltings. And as for the two policemen, that was unheard of.
Still, young Dudley Dursley was now legally an adult and it was difficult to deny the requests. Particularly when the paperwork Mr Malfoy produced was impeccable – especially the cheque, large enough to cover all the remaining tuition. He surveyed everything carefully, of course; but there was nothing to find fault with, even for such a pedant as he.
"Yes, well, I think this is all in order," he harrumphed.
"Very good," Lucius smiled. He knew perfectly well that the most important thing was the cheque; and as that had been verified by the man's secretary already, he knew that there would be no further problems. "And, as agreed, we may borrow Mr Dursley for the afternoon?"
"It is a little unusual, as you are not next-of-kin," the headmaster began. Harry and Dudley fixed him with beady stares; Lucius, watching, felt a shiver run down his spine at the way the two faces had exactly the same expression; it was the first time they had displayed any shared familiar trait.
Dudley, oblivious to Lucius's thoughts, glared hard at his headmaster. This outing had already been agreed, and he wasn't about to be talked out of it. Dudley's face was so fierce that the man visibly wilted in the face of it. "But I suppose it is his birthday, and he is of age," he said a little less portentously. "So, very well, you may have a half-day to attend to these affairs, Mr Dursley. But please see to it that any further time required is advised with more notice."
"Yes sir," Dudley said, his voice that of the perfect, submissive student, though his eyes still looked dangerous.
Three hours later, Dudley Dursley was no more, and Dudley Potter proudly entered Smeltings Academy.
Lucius smiled as they farewelled Dudley at the school gate. Harry had forgiven his cousin, and been worried about him, ever since that meeting at the Manor. But now Dudley was safely out of his parents' clutches.
Vengeance on the Dursleys could now begin in earnest.

Harry was privately delighted when Lucius and Narcissa invited them to have dinner and stay the night at the Manor. He was still feeling a little fragile after his sudden outburst of emotion earlier that morning; for once, he allowed himself to ignore his dislike of being mollycoddled. It was nice to feel that Narcissa was mothering him; so he put up a token resistance to the idea, then accepted gladly.
For their part, Lucius and Narcissa gave a paper-thin excuse about the Manor being a better place for the mind-healer to arrive in, but in truth it was simply because Narcissa was worried about her boys, and wanted to keep a close eye on them. And she felt her concerns were proved well-founded at dinner, when she noticed that Harry, who she had taken care to seat next to Draco, seemed to constantly be reaching out to touch the blond.
"So, Harry, how was the visit to Smeltings this afternoon?" she asked him politely, as the main course was served.
"It was surreal," Harry replied, grinning at the memory. "The teachers there are really stuffy; I got the feeling that, apart from Lucius, they didn't want us there at all, especially the policemen."
Narcissa, ignoring the fact that Harry and Draco's hands were now touching, gave him a puzzled look in reply.
"They wanted Lucius there?" she asked.
"Well, I think he was 'the right sort'," he replied, and she smiled to indicate that she understood the point he was making.
"I see," she said, her eyes sparkling. It seemed that snobbery was alive and well in the Muggle world, too; and Lucius's aristocratic bearing worked just as well there. That didn't surprise her at all. "And how about Mr – I can't say 'Dursley' any more, can I?" she mused, casting around for the right way to ask. "How was the new Mr Potter?"
"Dudley was brilliant!" Harry replied. "He was so happy when we got all the paperwork done."
"What was the tower he kept thanking you for?" Lucius asked.
"Oh, he wants to do civil engineering, so I gave him a scale model of the Eiffel Tower for his birthday. It gives a really good view of how it all fits together. And I enchanted all the lifts so they work just like the real ones."
Lucius threw his head back and laughed, and Harry grinned to see it. But Narcissa did not miss the look of tiredness in the raven-haired teen's eyes, nor the fact that the two boys were now obviously holding hands below the table-top. Draco had contrived somehow to do so discreetly, and started to draw Lucius off into general conversation; but Narcissa felt it was only a matter of time before the Malfoy patriarch noticed what was going on, and he would probably feel he would have to intervene. Who knew how the demands of the Debt, and of hospitality, as against proper decorum, would play out?
Narcissa looked around, wondering if there was a way to avoid the question altogether. To her relief, she saw that everyone had finished, and clapped her hands for Dippy.
"Well, boys, I think we've bored you long enough, and I think Harry looks like he needs an early night; why don't you have dessert together in your room?"
Lucius raised his eyebrows at this very unusual suggestion; but looking at Harry he could see the boy was all in, and evidently relieved at the idea.
"Go on, go, the pair of you," he said, waving his hand to shoo them away, as Draco looked like he didn't quite believe he'd heard correctly. "Your mother and I have some grown-up things to discuss."
As he had intended, this remark caused Draco a moment of confusion; but then he too clocked the look of weariness in Harry's eyes.
"Well," he said, playing along, his tone at once mischievous and superior, "far be it from us to interrupt when there are matters of state to discuss. Come, Harry, we'll tip-toe away and leave these two to their delusions of grandeur, shall we?"
In the event, Harry didn't get dessert that night; it took them five minutes to get to Draco's bedroom, but he was in bed five minutes after that. Draco sat for a few minutes, holding his fiancé and carding his fingers through his hair, as Harry swiftly fell asleep.
"Oh Harry," he murmured. He hugged the man tightly. He was so much in love; and while he loved the fact that Harry was so obviously comfortable with being touched all the time, his heart ached that his wonderful fiancé still hurt so much, still had a way to go to be healed, was still plagued by weariness. As he fell asleep, his last conscious thought was the hope that the morning would bring help from the healer and that Harry would get over this soon.

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