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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Author’s note: The twins are going to feature a bit, and rather than worry about exactly which one is speaking, and break off between them, I’m going to use the notation “yada // yada // yada”, where the // indicates switching from one twin to the other, and bold is when both of them are speaking at once. Hopefully this will prove less obtrusive than standard punctuation.

5. Return to the Burrow.
Auror Banks was quite young – probably only about five years older than Harry. He looked totally overawed to be given charge of the Boy-Who-Lived. “The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice, now”, the Auror thought to himself. Or man, really. Presumably Mr. Potter was now going to be given some new title – the Wizard-Who-Killed-the-Dark-Lord or some such.
Best to leave that to the Daily Prophet, though; Mr. Potter was asking him a question, and he hadn’t quite followed it. Something about where they were going. Right, he’d probably expected them to just apparate out.
“We need to go to the Headmistress’s office, sir; she asked specifically that all traffic go through there so she would know who had left and who was still on the School premises.”
Ah, Harry thought to himself, that will be why it took so long for Auror Godwin to come back after taking Narcissa to the Manor. Which had been a very good thing, as it had meant he had had the opportunity for the first civil chat he had ever had with Malfoy. Draco, he corrected himself, he’s my friend now. It had been so pleasant talking to Draco without drawing a wand. Perhaps they would even be good friends some day.
“Thanks,” he replied, with a shy smile. Aurors, even young ones, were to be respected, after all. Auror Banks did not reply, but the brilliant smile he gave Harry in return made him look even younger. It warmed Harry’s heart to see it.
Harry was beginning to wonder exactly when he had turned into such a Hufflepuff.

When they got to the Headmistress’s office, Harry was surprised to find a small reception committee waiting for him. Kingsley stood in the middle of the room, flanked by McGonagall on one side and Arthur Weasley, chatting to his son Percy, on the other. Mafalda Hopkirk was there too, and a couple of other wizards that Harry couldn't quite place, obviously from the Ministry.
The Headmistress smiled at him and said, “Mr. Potter, we’ll have a word or two in private later, but for now the acting Minister for Magic has something he’d like to say.”
“Harry, we know you’ll be desperate to get back to the Burrow,” Kingsley began, and Harry could only think how right Kingsley was and how much Harry wished he would shut up and let him go there, “and Mollie Weasley is equally longing to have you back, but we didn’t want you to leave the castle without formally recognizing you as the Destroyer of Voldemort. I’m sure that there will be plenty of rubbish printed in tomorrow’s Prophet, but we want you to know the Ministry has officially given you that title, so no-one can argue.”
“Thank you, sir,” Harry replied, deciding that if he was brief, perhaps Kingsley might take the hint. He liked the man enormously, but he had no stomach at all for political speeches. And thinking of his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t eaten since... he had forgotten when…
“You’re welcome, Harry. Now, the last time we spoke, you seemed a bit out of it, I hope you are fully recovered?”
Ah. Harry had sort of forgotten about collapsing in front of the Acting Minister. Damn. He was going to have some explaining to do to Molly Weasley. But for now, short answers seemed to be working well for him.
“Yes, thank you, sir.”
“Harry, that’s quite enough ‘sir’ from you, young man. You are, and always will be, my friend, and you will always have an ear at the ministry as the vanquisher of our greatest foe. A more formal presentation will be made later, I’m sure, but for now Arthur and Percy will take you back to the Burrow.”
Thank goodness that’s over, Harry thought.
With that, everyone shook his hand and then Arthur took charge, and they Flooed back to the Burrow. Arthur made sure that Harry was between the other two. He must have warned Percy, who went first, about Harry’s dislike of Floo travel and tendency to fall out of the fireplace at the far end, because when Harry emerged, Percy had turned around and managed to stop Harry stumbling when he fell out of the Floo. Harry found himself rocked gently back into Arthur’s waiting arms. It was done so simply and gracefully that Harry did not feel in the least embarrassed.
“Well, here we are again,” his unofficial adopted father said, brightly.

A fourth person came through the Floo, and Harry was very surprised to be joined by Auror Banks.
Arthur spotted his surprise. “Ah,” he said, gently. “The Ministry is very concerned to protect both you and your privacy, Harry, so Aurors will be on watch with you for the next little while. Auror Proudfoot is already here -” and with this, Arthur pointed out a tall, dark man, that Harry had completely missed, standing by the back door. Auror Banks went and stood next to him.
“Protect me? What do I need protection from?” Harry demanded. Not to mention that advertising his presence by being followed around by hulking great Aurors didn’t seem like a particularly good way to safeguard his privacy.
“Not all the Death Eaters are accounted for, sir,” Banks replied. “And they no doubt have sympathizers as well. Not everyone will be delighted that He-Who-Must… that Voldemort is dead. Or with you for killing him.”
Harry didn’t get a chance to respond to this because his own question had been a touch too loud, and a shriek of ‘HE’S HERE!' rang through the Burrow as Banks was talking, followed by the shrieker herself, as Molly Weasley wrapped him in a hug that was tighter than any bear had ever managed, Harry was sure.
She didn’t have him to herself for any time at all as he was instantly surrounded by a cloud of red heads as the Weasleys and Hermione rushed in from all sides. It was a huge crush. It was loud and manic. But he loved it. He loved how they all treasured him, wanted him to be there, were so overjoyed that he was back with them. He only wished the Dursleys had ever given him this feeling. He regretted so much that it was these people, no kin to him at all, who treated him like family, while his own had, at best, ignored him.
Harry pushed these feelings down, hard. He was NOT going to erupt into tears, or faint, or otherwise embarrass himself.
Molly obviously sensed something was not right with her “seventh son” and reacted in the way she knew best.
“All right, everyone, give him some room and some peace!” (Harry grinned, she was the biggest offender on both counts, crushing him and yelling almost in his ear.) “Come on, sit down, Harry, we need to get some food into you.” She turned a beady eye on the rest of her clan. “And no-one is to ask any questions until he’s finished eating and had a chance to draw breath.”
With that, Harry was propelled mercilessly to the large kitchen table, and a huge pile of food set in front of him. But he was not left to eat alone; whatever Molly said, food in front of a Weasley was never going to last long, and the whole tribe sat down and ate with gusto. A funny sort of banter went across the table – topics were raised but then abandoned as soon as they touched on the war. Eventually a discussion got going about International Quidditch, which seemed to involve a lot of shouting between Ginny and the twins on one side and Ron and Percy on the other. Harry loved it. They were being themselves, except that no-one spoke to him directly; Mrs. Weasley was obviously being taken seriously.
When he sat down, he hadn’t thought he would eat much, but he realized, after they had all been eating for an hour, that he’d eaten about twice as much as he normally could. He was about to comment how full he was feeling when a slice of treacle tart was levitated across to him, with the cream jug close to hand.
After dinner, he was a bit shocked with himself. You’d think he could have managed more than three slices of his favourite dessert, after all. He sat back, full and content, and looked around the table. And gulped. By the looks on their faces, everyone had now decided that the eating and breath-drawing were done, and the questions could begin. His heart sank. He could feel a strain in the room. They’d all want to know everything, all at once.
To his surprise, it was Fred – and George, it was never just one of them talking when they were together – who asked the first question.
“So Harry, // the thing // we’d like to know most is // do you get to keep the chaise-longue?”
The entire table collapsed into howls of laughter. When Fred winked at him, Harry realized that this was exactly what the twins had wanted – at this ridiculous question, all of the tension that he had felt before had drained away, and now the discussion would start in a happy and friendly tone. He mouthed “Thank you” at the twins, but it hardly began to convey his gratitude and relief.
They talked for a long time. Harry explained about the events in the Forbidden Forest, but was careful not to give any details about being dead. He looked over at Fred while they were discussing this and the twin gave him a look that Harry interpreted as “you and I can talk about this later”.
Harry was very glad when they came to discuss the shield that had stopped Ron’s Stupefy, because suddenly Arthur, not he, was the focus of the questioning. And Arthur looked about as comfortable with this as Harry had about being questioned before.
“OK, Dad, spill,” said Ginny. “You obviously know more about this – what was it called, Houseman shield?”
“Haussmann, Ginny,” Arthur corrected, though Harry could hardly hear the difference. “A Haussmann shield can only be created when two or more people’s magical cores get aligned with each other. Normally, this only happens inside a bonded relationship –“
“So Harry and Malfoy are married?” Ron interjected in a shocked tone.
“No, no, I said ‘normally’,” Arthur continued, mildly.
“Yes, since when has our Harry // been normal?” Harry looked daggers at the twins for this, but he couldn’t stay mad at the mischievous twinkles in their eyes.
“ – but there are rare cases of friends being able to create one,” Arthur continued, imperturbably. It occurred to Harry that Arthur must be very well used to this sort of conversation by now and had just got used to continuing regardless.
“But Harry and Draco aren’t friends –“ Hermione chimed in.
“Well, we weren’t,” Harry responded. “We kind of are now. I think. It’s been a very confusing day!”
“But the thing for you to think about, Harry,” Arthur continued, taking advantage of the fact that Harry’s statement had stunned the rest of them to silence, “is that all the cases I know of ended up with the participants being bonded.”
There was uproar. Everyone began yelling at once.
“But, Harry and me –“ from Ginny.

“He’ll never stand for it” Percy began; it was not clear who “he” was.

“You can’t marry a Malfoy!” Ron burst out.

“There must be something, maybe in the Malfoy’s library” came from Hermione.
“WILL YOU ALL SHUT UP!” Molly yelled. Astonishingly enough, they did. “A body can’t hear herself think! Just look at poor Harry, with his hands over his ears! And what will the Aurors think?”
“Quite understandable, ma’am,” Auror Proudfoot pitched in. It was the first thing that Harry had heard him say, and the baritone voice had an incredible soothing quality on him. He felt quite protected.
‘RIGHT, THAT’S IT!’ he said to himself. ‘I am a Gryffindor! I do not need protection and I do not need to feel soothed and protected. Especially when the man has only said three words, for fuck’s sake!’
“I’m OK, Molly, really,” he said out loud. “But you’re all quite right, Malfoy and me, um, no. I just want him to be free to be himself. Mrs. Malfoy said something about that not being what has happened, but …”
There were two crumbs of hope here; one would have to wait for a private moment, but the other… “Hermione, if anyone can find out a way out of this, it’s you. I know the manor holds horrors for all of us, but if you would go there, maybe …”
Fortunately, Hermione was a Gryffindor through and through. “Of course I’ll go, Harry.” There was a mutinous sound around her of Weasleys being all protective, but she squashed them firmly by adding, “and Ron can come with me to make sure that they don’t try anything.”
There was a discreet cough. “I’m sure that’ll be alright, ma’am,” Proudfoot said. “There are Aurors on duty at the Manor to protect everyone there too.”
“Right,” said Hermione, “we’ll go tomorrow morning then.”
“I don’t think so,” Arthur said. “Tomorrow is going to be a rest day. We’ve just fought a huge battle today, and we’re going to need time to catch up with all the stresses from that. You can go on Monday.”
Harry was stunned. He’d never heard Arthur be so firm before. All of the Weasleys, and even, miraculously, Hermione, seemed to just accept what he said. It hit Harry that this was how this family worked: while Mrs. Weasley looked like she ruled the roost, Arthur truly was the head of the house. He just didn’t feel the need to show it, except when it really mattered. Like now: without a firm hand, nothing would have stopped Hermione from going in the morning. Indeed, Harry was half-surprised she hadn’t suggested going right now.
But the grilling wasn’t over. Harry had let something slip, and Hermione latched onto it.
“So, what did Mrs. Malfoy have to say, exactly? And when? Is this after you collapsed in front of Kingsley? What was that about, anyway?”
Harry groaned. “Well, after doing that thing with his wand I felt like all of my magic and energy had drained out, and I woke up alarmed when the Stupefy spell hit –“
“Sorry, mate,” Ron interjected.
“You weren’t to know. So anyway, the Malfoys had their magic back, and the mark was removed, and then Kingsley said… how did he put it?”
“’ Looks like you’ve done it again, Harry.’,” Arthur responded, promptly.
“Yeah, and then a whole load of stuff just hit me about things I’ve done and how everything really goes pear-shaped when I’m the centre of attention – from the Dursleys, from the press, from Umbridge ... I guess it all just built up inside me and I just lost it. And then, when I came to, I was in my old bed in the Tower with Narcissa Malfoy watching me.”
He went on to give a rather truncated account of what had happened afterwards. He left out the nightmare – he didn’t need them all worrying about that as well; but delighted in giving Draco’s recorded remarks as exactly as he could remember except for saying “expletive” instead of the swear-words. And he left out the kiss. He told himself it was for the sake of the ladies present, not to protect Draco at all.

By the time they’d heard him out and talked things through it was well after ten o’clock and Molly produced tea and cake and then sent them all to bed.
Harry wondered how that was going to work: the Burrow must be bursting at the seams. But room was found for everyone: Ginny and Hermione were sharing Gin’s room, apparently, and he was again with Ron at the top of the house. The Aurors did not need rooms, of course, and in fact, their relief team arrived as the rest were going to bed. Harry was sad to see Auror Banks go, he had got quite fond of him.
As they were lying comfortably in Ron’s room, Ron sat up and asked, “OK, mate, so what did you leave out from the Tower?”
Harry squirmed. Ron noticed.
“Come on, I’m not the dumb-ass everyone takes me for. I know when you’ve got the lid on something. Spill.”
So Harry told him about the nightmare, and the conclusions that he and Draco had drawn about it. To his credit, and Harry’s very great relief, he just listened, and commented at the end that it must have been awful. His last words before they fell asleep were “I’m sure it’ll have something to do with this Shield thing, but we can leave worrying about that till Monday. And you know, whatever happens, we’re mates, right? Good night, mate. And no nightmares, all right?”

Harry didn’t have a nightmare, for which he was very thankful. He slept soundly until nearly lunchtime the following day. Obviously, Mr. Weasley had been right about needing rest. He showered and dressed, and was trying to tame his hair – a lost cause, and he knew it, but if he didn’t make an effort, Hermione would know, somehow, and berate him for it – when there was a soft knock on the door.
It was Ginny. She came in, and sat on Ron’s bed. Harry sat on his, and they sat in an uncomfortable silence for a minute or two.
“Um, so, how are you doing, Gin? Did you sleep well?” Stupid, Harry, stupid, stupid. He would have hit his head on the wall, but that would have been even more stupid.
“Harry,” she began, her voice strained, “when you were there in Hagrid’s arms, that scene, it just keeps playing over in my dreams, I just can’t forget seeing you there, dead…”
“I wasn’t dead, Gin,” he said, in what he hoped was a calming, reassuring manner. “I just had to pretend to be dead so Nagini could get killed before I fought him…”
He could see by the fire in her eyes that it wasn’t working.
“You pretended?” A touch of anger was coming into her voice. “But we didn’t know that! All I saw was a dead body in a giant’s arms. To me, at that moment, you were dead, and all the romantic feelings I had for you, it was like they kind of died too. I keep trying to feel them, but it’s not like before. I don’t know if they’ll ever come back….”
Harry’s heart was in his mouth. His first hope was crumbling away. “Then what you said last night …. You and me ...”
“I said it mostly for them, Harry. Mum is still desperate for us to get back together. But me? Oh, … I don’t know what I want anymore, alright?" Ginny put her head in her hands, clearly frustrated with not being able to work out her own emotions. "I don’t know what I feel any more. I do love you, Harry, I do want there to be passion between us, but right now it’s just not there …”
Harry had no idea what to say to that. All he could come out with was “Maybe we need to give it some time, yeah?” It sounded lame, even to him. Ginny smiled at him, and they went downstairs to find some food.
Mrs. Weasley had decided to do “just something simple”, as the family was getting up in dribs and drabs. Her version of “something simple” would have been only slightly less sumptuous than a feast at the Dursleys’, Harry thought, ruefully, regretting all the years he had missed out on a mother-figure showing him love through food. Or anything else, really. Stop it! No regrets! He told himself firmly, and nibbled on a muffin.
He went outside and found that the twins had invented a new game they called “gnome tennis”, which seemed to involve little more than hitting gnomes as hard as they could with racquets.
“Don’t worry, Harry // the little blighters love it // see, they’re coming back for more!”
And indeed, when they landed after being it, the gnomes picked themselves up, dusted themselves off, and ran back to be hit again. Harry smiled and joined in. It was just what he needed to take his mind off Ginny.
Bill and Fleur, who had been at Shell Cottage, Flooed in for afternoon tea, so they all sat down and demolished a mountain of cakes and scones. At least, the Weasleys did; Harry still felt very full after the previous night’s dinner, and had half a scone. Afterwards the twins grabbed Harry and took him outside. They played some more gnome tennis for an hour or so, but he could tell their hearts weren’t in it. They were up to something else. They took him over to a table and chairs at the edge of their garden. It was a private little spot, where no-one from the house or outside could easily eavesdrop.
“Harry, there’s a couple of things we need to talk about.” Fred began. “Firstly, about discussion last night ... // we thought it’s only fair to tell you all: // we made everyone draw straws for the right to ask the first question // and Fred won! // Then ickle Ronnikins accused us of cheating! Can you imagine!”
Harry could imagine, and the thought of Ron, a picture of self-righteous indignation, made him smile. Damn but the twins did that to him a lot!
“Of course, we did cheat; // but how dare our brother suspect us of it!”
George’s face had exactly the same indignant look that Harry had pictured on Ron. Harry couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“OK, little brother, that’s the next thing. // There’s obviously a lot going on in your head at the moment, // and we’re guessing by your face that not a whole lot of it is pleasant. // So we’ve decided it’s our job to get a grin on your face. And a laugh is just a bonus. First for a while, right?“
“Yeah,” Harry said, rather sheepishly. “Thanks guys, you’re doing a great job with that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised though, as it’s you two …” He gave a lop-sided grin. “Anything else?”
“You didn’t talk about being dead last night.” Fred’s face had changed and Harry could not remember ever seeing him so serious as at that moment.
Harry nodded. He still didn’t want to talk about it.
“I understand,” Fred continued. “I know about it, OK? I know there’s a white mist, and I saw a door I could have gone through, and that would have been game over. But then –“
“You brought him back! You brought Fred, who is half of me, back! Harry, we owe you forever, mate. We’re going to take care of you, alright? Whatever you need, come and ask.”
The earnestness and passion of their voices touched Harry so deeply that he couldn’t trust himself to speak without collapsing into tears. He put his arms out to the twins and found himself wrapped up in a huge hug that said more to him about being part of the family than any of the words could have done.
When he pulled away, he found that he hadn’t escaped tears. But neither had the other two, and they just looked at him and told him “It’s all right, little bro,” and cuffed him on the head.
At that moment Molly called everyone to dinner.

Conversation around the table largely centered on what Arthur and Percy had been up to. Apparently, they had had to go into the Ministry, even though it was a Sunday and even though they were supposed to be resting. Harry could see that Hermione was miffed, but Arthur was so obviously annoyed at having to go in that she didn’t say anything.
It turned out that they were going to have to delay her visit to Malfoy manor, as the next week was scheduled for funerals and it had been assumed that the Golden Trio would want to attend them all. Arthur produced the schedule, and the whole week was filled up.
Ron was absolutely indignant. “Bloody hell, they could have asked us!” he exclaimed. Harry quite agreed, but he knew that wasn’t the Ministry Way.
Or at least, it hadn’t been. But the Ministry Way was insane. It had put muggle-borns in fear of life and liberty. It had produced incompetent ministers like Fudge, who dithered and did nothing, and Scrimgeour, who had locked up the wrong people. It had let people like Dolores Umbridge, who hated children (and the feeling was generally reciprocated), be in charge of Hogwarts School of Wizarding and Witchcraft.
It was time for this insanity to stop. He hadn’t killed Voldemort so that the ministry could go back to “business as usual”. Things needed to change.
“Um, who decided all of this?”
“Well,” Percy replied, “the schedule is just a juggling exercise, so it was given to Cornelius Fudge.” Spotting Harry’s incredulous look, he expanded, “Yes, he’s still at the ministry, so we have to find him something to do, and we thought it was one job he couldn’t screw up.”
“Right, well he has screwed it up. You can tell Fudge that we are going to the main service and the funerals of the people we actually know, and that’s it. We are not part of the propaganda arm of the Ministry of Magic!" Harry ranted. "So that’s the general memorial service and four funerals then: Colin Creevey, Lavender Brown, Snape, Lupin and Tonks …”
Harry shut up like a trap on saying this. Lupin and Tonks. It hit him like a bludger to the ribs. Harder than that: you could heal the damage from a bludger. They really were dead then. And that meant that Teddy truly was an orphan. Like him.
“Oh god,” he whispered, “Teddy and Andromeda … and I haven’t got in touch …”
Molly bustled round him. “Yes dear,” she said, hugging him. “I Floo-called Andromeda this morning and said that you were caught up unavoidably but would be sure to call her this evening.”
“And don’t worry about the schedule, Harry,” Arthur continued. “I told Fudge that would probably be your answer; he told me to change your mind. As if that was going to happen! Now I can owl him back and tell him that things don’t work that way any more. So here’s the actual schedule,” and so saying he produced a second parchment, with just Remus’ and Tonks’ funeral the following morning, Colin and Lavender on Tuesday, the memorial on Thursday and Snape on Friday morning.
Harry was flabbergasted. He was very grateful that Molly had been in touch with Andromeda, and made sure it didn’t look like he was ignoring them. And he was stunned at this display of political acumen from Arthur, and his unexpected guile in having the second schedule already worked out. But here was an opening, and he was going to take it.
“Yes, please do. Arthur, we can’t let the Ministry just go on as before ...”
He would have said more, but Molly chipped in, “Haven’t I been saying that for years, dear? Now accept Kingsley’s offer and let’s get on with it.”
“Kingsley’s offer?” Percy asked.
“Molly!” Arthur growled. But Molly pre-empted further discussion by jumping up and producing a piping-hot rhubarb crumble fresh from the oven. A wave of her wand and the huge cream jug floated over and silence descended on the table as all mouths busied themselves with the pudding.
“So, Dad,” George began, a minute later, “is this a new job offer?” Fred finished.
Arthur gave in. “Yes, Kingsley has asked me to be his Deputy Minister. I’m happy where I am, but I guess now that you lot know about it you’re all going to badger me to accept.”
The table erupted into excitement and it seemed that everyone had to get up and shake his hand or slap his back. Harry quietly emptied the rest of his crumble into Ron’s bowl. It was delicious, but he hadn’t felt hungry all day and didn’t want any more.
After the meal, Mrs. Weasley reminded Harry that he needed to place the Floo-call. He sat at the fireplace, threw in a little powder, and waited for the green-tinged face of Andromeda Tonks to appear.
“Harry! Thank you so much for calling!” she began.
“Andromeda, I – I’m so sorry I didn’t call earlier, I …”
“HARRY POTTER! Don’t you DARE apologize to me for ANYTHING! You come over here AT ONCE, young man!”
Andy yelling at him shocked Harry enormously. No-one had said a cross word to him all day, and it brought him to Earth with a bump. He scrambled to obey, and fell out of the fireplace into a huge hug. Then the Floo behind him crackled, and he turned with wand drawn. But there was nothing to worry about: Auror Banks came through. It must be his shift again. He suddenly realized that of course, the Aurors were supposed to guard him, so maybe he should not just charge off by himself, so he began to apologize to the young Auror.
The other wizard cut him off. “Now Mr. Potter, you’re in enough trouble for apologizing when you shouldn’t. You’ve no call to apologize to me; it’s my job to guard you, not the other way round.” He turned to Andromeda, continuing, “I do apologize to you, though, ma’am, for turning up unannounced, but I am charged with keeping an eye on Mr. Potter here.”
“Yes, well I’m sure he’ll keep you on your toes,” Andromeda said, with a sly smile. “Please make yourself comfortable, Auror…”
“… Banks, ma’am, and I’ll be fine just here.” He stood in a corner, with a good view of the Floo.
Andromeda looked at him critically. “They get younger all the time,” she sighed. “Now, Harry, let me have a look at you.” She studied him with the same critical eye she had cast over the Auror. “Well, you’ll do for the moment, but you make sure you look after yourself, young man. I’m going to need your help with young Teddy, after all.”
“Sorry, Andromeda ...” Harry began.
“DON’T YOU DARE!” Andromeda yelled back, straight away. “I know you feel guilty for not getting in touch with me before now, but trust me, if I’d needed you, I would have yelled for you. You are allowed to have a life of your own, young man.”
The sound of the one-month old baby suddenly filled the house; Andromeda’s shout had woken Teddy. Before Harry could say the word ‘sorry’, Andromeda had her finger on his lips. “Not your fault,” she said. “Sit down”, she ordered, then disappeared upstairs. Seconds later she came down with the baby, and placed him in Harry’s arms. He looked panicked; he’d never held such a tiny infant before and he didn’t trust himself.
“Harry, you’re not going to hurt him. Just support his head, and cuddle him.” Harry did, and Andromeda smiled at him as the tiny boy reacted to the warmth of the wizard’s arm and dozed off again. “Harry, he’s not made of glass. Don’t drop him, obviously, but you clearly love him, the rest will come. Now, would either of you like some tea?”
Both Harry and Banks nodded, and Andromeda found out how they wanted it, then went out to the kitchen.
Harry looked across at the Auror, and suddenly realized he didn’t know his first name. Just how did that happen? He had automatically moved into a relationship where he saw the other man not as an individual, but as a functionary. As though his first name actually was “Auror”.
Well, that was the Ministry Way and it definitely wasn’t how Harry wanted the world to work. There was really only one way to fix it.
“Um, Auror Banks?”
“Yes, sir?”
Damn. “Please, call me Harry. What is your first name?”
The Auror looked very sheepish. “Robin”, he replied.
Robin? Harry thought for a second. “Robin Banks? Like, ‘robbing banks’? You’re kidding, right?”
“No, sir – um, Harry. My parents thought it would be a great joke. So do all my fellow Aurors, unfortunately. And I get patrol duty at Gringott’s and the goblins think it’s the funniest thing ever.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “I wouldn’t have thought the goblins would find anything funny.”
“No, me either, but they do. And it’s very useful; I get on better with them than anyone else does because of it.”
“Right. So, may I call you Robin?”
The Auror looked at him, and Harry wondered for a second if he had spilt some crumble on his face or something.
“You’re a very unusual wizard, sir – Harry. No-one ever sees Aurors as people. Of course, I would be honoured for you to call me Robin.”
“Well, Aurors are people, Robin, you deserve for that to be remembered. That’s something I want to try and change.”
Teddy murmured slightly, and Harry looked at him with alarm. But with a little stroking and cajoling, he settled back to sleep easily enough.
“You’re a natural, Harry,” said Robin. “I should know, I have lots of cousins and get heaps of practice with babies. You’re doing just fine.”
“Thanks,” Harry replied. It was just the kind of reassurance he needed. Treating Robin as a person was working really well, Harry thought.
At this point, Andromeda bustled in with tea and biscuits. Harry took a long sip of his tea with honey; it was perfect. As he set it down – very carefully, because of Teddy – Andromeda offered the biscuits around.
“Thank you, ma’am. It’s very considerate of you to think of me – most people ignore an Auror on guard duty altogether.”
“We’re going to change that, aren’t we, Robin,” Harry responded.
Andromeda’s eyebrows shot up. “You poor man,” she said. “I bet your parents thought it was funny.”
“They did indeed ma’am.”
Harry was glad that she had been so kind about it. He could only imagine the humiliation of going through life with a joke name. Auror Banks seemed to cope with it pretty well on the whole, but it must get pretty wearing from time to time.
Andromeda broke in on his reverie. “My Ted, Teddy’s grandfather, was a mind healer, Harry. I learned a lot from him about people’s moods and mental weaknesses and how to help them overcome them. And that’s why I won’t let you take blame that’s not yours onto yourself, alright?”
Harry gave her a weak smile. This would be how she always seemed to know what he was thinking, then.
“Hmm. Too serious for the time of night, I know. I do tend to be like that I’m afraid. And we have a horrid day ahead of us tomorrow. Harry, the funeral starts at ten o’clock; I intend to be there from about nine onwards. Please feel free to come when you like, but I would be glad of your company beforehand if you can manage it.”
“Thanks. I’ll have to fall in with what the Weasleys are doing, I guess; I suppose I should get back to them now.”
He handed Teddy back to Andromeda. He was very glad to watch someone who clearly knew what she was doing and studied carefully how she took and held the baby. Neither she nor the Auror missed it; Robin murmured “a natural” at him, and Andromeda smiled in agreement.
Harry blushed. “Thank you for the tea, Andromeda.”
With that, he and Robin Flooed back to the Burrow.

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