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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
- 53
- 54
- 55
54. Waiting for Harry to Return
Tuesday 14 July
It was a very subdued evening meal that night. They all now knew that the Ravenclaw boys had gone, and would not be returning before September; all of the Hogwarts students felt that this was a monumental failure, especially with the other schools there to see it.
And of course the attack on Harry still weighed heavily on everyone. It had not been made widely known that they were still looking for an assailant; but Draco knew, for his own protection, and it did not take Blaise very long to sniff out that something was wrong with his old friend. Draco decided that he didn't have the energy to put up a happy façade, and simply told Blaise everything. He knew it would be common knowledge by the following morning; but he could not bring himself to care.
Being Bastille Day, the Beauxbatons girls wanted to celebrate, and brought butterbeers and spirits into the Common Room, together with some French elf-wine. It was good wine; under other circumstances, Draco would have loved to drink some and pay pretty compliments to the girls. But Harry wasn't there, and Draco didn't feel like celebrating: he had been angry with him, thinking he'd got into a fight, and he'd let Harry see that anger. And now that he knew he had no reason to be angry, guilt was setting in.
Deciding that, since Bastille Day was about liberty, he would do some liberation of his own, he retired to his room with a bottle of firewhiskey.

Wednesday 15 July
But the alcohol did not help; sleep did not come easily to Draco that night. He tossed and turned for a while, feeling bereft without Harry. It actually came as quite a shock to him when he totaled things up and realised that he hadn't spent a night apart from his lover in weeks; of course he missed him badly! He'd got used to the little snuffles and odd breaths; the light touches, some accidental, some accidental-on-purpose; the comforting warmth next to him.
It was about three o'clock in the morning that he sat bolt upright in bed as it hit him what the real problem. He was suddenly so lucid that the drink in his system seemed to vanish; he was, all of a sudden, stone-cold sober. And that wasn't the only coldness he felt. For the problem wasn't the lack of comfort; he didn't feel comforted, true, and he wanted his Harry for that, true again; but the real issue ran deeper.
He didn't feel safe.
He knew, with Harry there, they had each other, and they had the shield. The events of yesterday had proved that they didn't have the shield when apart; he had wondered whether it would protect them when they weren't together, and now he knew it wouldn't; and to be honest, he rather wished he didn't. Not all knowledge is a blessing; and when ignorance is bliss, it is folly to be wise.
He cast a Protego around the room, hoping its presence would comfort him, and lay back on the bed, closing his eyes, seeking sleep. Instantly, his vision changed; somehow, he could still see the charm, in fact clearer than before; it was made, strangely, of in intricate pattern of silver and red light, covering the walls of the room. As he watched, eyes still closed, the red seemed to snake off and branch away. Nothing happened for a little while; then he saw it slowly return. And as it returned, it was trailing a thread of green light. The returning thread did not stop when it entered the room, though; it came straight for him, and the green light surrounded him. All at once he felt drowsy.
"Sleep well," a voice said; a strange voice, and yet not strange. The voice that he associated with the red light. He would have wondered who it was, had he been more awake.
"… my love," another voice said. But there was nothing strange about this one. It was a deep, rich, warm voice. A voice he knew so well. Harry's voice.
Suddenly, he felt sleepy. And comforted. And safe. Even though there was no-one to see, he smiled.

He woke four hours later. The charm was gone; there was nothing to give any clue what had happened. Nothing, that is, except for the warm feeling he still felt all around him. Somehow, he knew, the red light had tied them together again, even over distance, even with Harry still unconscious.
How do I know he's not awake? he was no answer; but he did know. He was quite certain that Harry was still out of things, lying on a cot in the Infirmary. With a sigh, he heaved himself out of bed and went to get ready for the day.

"Mr Weasley, a moment, please."
Ron turned around. He had just exited the Tower, heading for breakfast; as always, he was ready for a huge meal, but that voice demanded his respect in death as much as it had in life. He turned to see the headmaster standing in Fawkes' portrait, idly stroking the phoenix.
"Sorry to trouble you, my boy, but I wondered if you might spare a thought for Mr Malfoy."
Ron did a double-take, his mouth gaping open.
"Draco?" he asked. "What about him?"
"Well, it must be a trying time for him, do you not think? His fiancé in a sick bed, and being all alone."
What is the old man playing at? Ron wondered. It seemed that, even in death, Albus Dumbledore liked to be inscrutable. And then the meaning hit him. Harry was in the Infirmary because he'd been attacked; Draco was the next logical target. And without Harry, he would be very vulnerable.
He knew what he had to do; after all, Harry would be devastated if anything happened to Draco.
"You can count on me, sir," he answered. "On us."

When Draco got to the bottom of the stairs of the North tower, he found a group waiting for him. The other boys from the tower, excepting Harry, were there, ranged in a semicircle: Ron, Blaise, Seamus, Dean, Neville. For a brief second his heart stopped. Had they come to attack him?
Ron came up to him slowly. The fear in his eyes had clearly registered in the redhead's brain, because Ron took care to show his hands openly, making it clear that he was not holding his wand.
"We thought that with Harry in the medical wing, and a killer on the loose, we should all stick together," he said bluntly. "Are you OK with that?"
It took Draco a second or two to register what was being said. When the sickle dropped, he nearly fell over in surprise. Without actually saying so, they were offering him protection. And doing it in a way that included him; that cast him, not as the poor lamb being protected, but as one of them. He smiled as he thought how incredibly unlikely such a thing would have appeared even two months ago.
"Yes," he replied, "I think that's a very good idea."
"Great," Ron said, grinning. "Let's go and get breakfast, and then we can check on Harry."

The target had been surrounded the whole morning.
The assailant had expected it to be difficult; everyone was on the alert after the first attack. But it seemed that some Hogwarts boys were going out of their way to guard the Death Eater. This was unexpected. They had said to expect a little sympathy for him; and it was clear that, with Potter in the Infirmary, there would be some. But surely it should have been from those Hufflepuff students? They would have been easy to take out; the advanced confundus charm would have done the trick.
But it wasn't them. No, Draco Malfoy seemed to be surrounded by a different class of people altogether. These Gryffindor boys showed every sign of serious training. They were alert. Vigilant. They checked for booby traps. They checked out possible hiding places, and rendered them useless with revealing charms. They watched everyone moving. And in class, and at the table, they surrounded the Death Eater in a living box of protection.
It was maddening. Just one shot. That was all that would be needed. Then it would be over, the job would be done, the masters would be satisfied, and normal life could be resumed.
Just one …

Robin Banks was feeling stretched rather thin. He now had two separate investigations under way: the attack on Harry at Hogwarts, and the escapees now holed up at Spinner's End. Of course, he could give one away; but the escapees led to the belief that there was a mole in the Auror Department, so the Minister wanted that investigation kept quiet; and as he had been teaching the class when Harry was attacked, he was Johnny-on-the-spot here, and it would look very strange if he did not investigate.
Both the Headmistress and Professor Merrythought had been very careful to let him know that, in their view, the events of Tuesday afternoon were not in any way due to a failure on his part. And the four other Aurors who had been near enough to witness anything had turned in reports that made the same point very clear. While the reassurance was very welcome, and it was gratifying to have the good opinion of his colleagues, both in the Auror corps and in the teaching staff, the fact remained that they had a man down. Robin Banks was a very practical thinker; he saw things in straightforward terms. There were definitely sides in his world. Someone definitely wanted to get to Harry, or Draco, or both; and whoever it was would not be deterred by one failure, nor by the expulsion – however it was couched politically – of three students.
But also, Robin was too intelligent not to see that people weren't black or white. It wasn't just a simple 'goodies' versus 'baddies' equation. So that meant that even the people they'd all happily said were beyond suspicion were worth a second look. His Auror training told him to suspect everyone. Even, unfortunately, his fellow Aurors; there could so easily be a connection between the two cases. So he made a list, writing down everyone who might be involved. It was a long list.
He started by seeing if he could eliminate any long-shots. For example, Draco was on the list. Not, to be sure, because he thought that there was any chance he would attack Harry; on the contrary, he was quite certain the Debt would prohibit any such thing. But, for his own piece of mind, and because the former Death Eater would make a very convenient scapegoat, he felt he needed to prove, beyond doubt, that Draco was innocent. Clearly, Draco had not been there when the coin – in his mind, the object thrown at Harry was a fake galleon; they didn't know that for a fact, but it was the usual object used for this particular spell – had been thrown. Could Draco have obtained it? Very doubtful. Whence and when would he have got it? Lucius Malfoy was watched, and the Manor was screened; Robin knew very well how carefully, he had been responsible for a large part of the ward casting himself. No, there was no way to smuggle a cursed object into the Manor; and there was no way to utter the curse there, either. He was sure the wards would alert him to any use of Dark Magic, no matter how small; and this curse required a significant amount. And any other way Draco Malfoy could have got hold of a fake galleon would have been with Harry's full knowledge. And Harry was probably the only person who really was above suspicion; no-one in his right mind would willingly allow an object cursed with Flagrante Transfero anywhere near them. And anyway, Banks had seen as clearly as Smetana had that Harry didn't throw the coin himself.
In addition, the evidence of wards, and the enquiries that had been conducted that showed that Draco and Harry had spent the whole of their holiday cloistered away with no contact from anyone else, showed clearly enough that neither of them could have acquired the galleon at any point. So. Draco had no part of it. Good.
He continued to whittle down the possibilities in this painstaking way, identifying impossibles, very highly improbables, and finally the possibles. Realistically, there were only three or four of these, he decided. It wasn't just who threw it; most probably Corner did throw it himself, either because he had it and knew what it was, or because someone else could have given it to him as a focal object, quite a common trick to amplify cutting curses. In the latter case, he may or may not have known that it was itself cursed; it would probably be impossible to tell.
No, the point to attack was supply. Someone had to get hold of it first. Robin had assessed the students rather carefully, and he was quite sure that none of the Ravenclaw students could have set up the curse; they didn't know any Dark magic, for a start, and the Transfero curse needed a very strong magical core to set up properly; the only student in the class who could have done it was Harry himself.
So it was almost certainly brought in from elsewhere. And that meant it had been supplied through the black market of forbidden objects. And that pointed rather strongly to the international students; the native Britons would all have had a lot of trouble getting hold of such a thing, given the very strong steps that had been taken to contain them after the War.
At this point, an idea struck Robin with the force of a thunderclap. The wards on Hogwarts proved, absolutely proved, that the coin was either cursed on site – incredibly far-fetched – or came in from overseas in a diplomatically warded bag. And that meant collusion with the Ministry. And one particular Department of the Ministry – the Department of International Co-operation. And that Department just happened to include Lucius's main, probably only, suspect for the Ministry contact for Rita Skeeter.
The conclusion seemed inescapable: the two cases were linked, somehow. Whether they were both part of the same plan, or whether one was simply an opportunistic plot, was another, probably unimportant, question; but it was too much of a co-incidence that two attacks would be mounted through separate moles in the same Department.
At least, he hoped so.

Draco took advantage of the free period he had after Transfiguration to Floo-call his parents from the Headmistress's office to tell them about the attack on Harry.
"Dragon!" Narcissa exclaimed. "Do you want to come home? Are you safe there?"
"Leave Harry?" Draco asked, stunned that his mother could suggest such a thing.
"Of course not," Narcissa replied, berating herself. "Stupid of me. Do you want us to come?"
"Mother, I'm not six any more!" he replied, a little exasperated. Lucius's chuckle didn't help.
"Chin up, son," Lucius said, the words light but his tone deadly serious. "I'll get onto this. We'll find out who did it, and make them wish they'd never been born."
"I didn't hear that," McGonagall chipped in, at which all three Malfoys laughed, and the conversation drifted onto other matters. He left the Headmistress's office with a lighter step than he had entered it with.

Draco noticed that he was being shadowed the whole time. It wasn't obtrusive; it didn't make him feel stalked; it's just that everywhere he went, people made sure he was never alone. It was a very strange feeling, this being quietly but determinedly looked after. He had never encountered such a thing at Hogwarts before, that was for sure; at least, not directed at him. Maybe the Gryffindors were always like this, he mused. But he didn't think so; at least, not all the time. There had been some spectacular bust-ups from that House. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter in Fourth Year, for example.
The Slytherins looked after their own, yes; but it was never quite so directed. Slytherins had always made sure they travelled in groups, because a lone snake was so often a target. But this was motivated chiefly by fear and self-interest. You were expected to look after yourself; you looked after other people if they were getting picked on, or they had to ask. It cost something in pride to get that protection; it didn't just happen. But what the Gryffindors offered was very different.
Neville just happened to meet up with him after he left the Headmistress's office, and seemed to need to use the bathroom at the same time that Draco did. It was too much of a coincidence, Draco decided; so, when they had both finished and were just about to go to the Great Hall for lunch, he decided it was time to ask about it.
"So," he began, with that awkwardness that men always have when talking to one another in a toilet block, "does George know you're stalking me?"
Neville laughed. It was a rich, real laugh, and it struck Draco that Neville had changed a very great deal. He was no longer that stuttering, awkward boy; now, nothing seemed to fluster or embarrass him.
"Just looking after you, mate," he replied.
"Why?" Draco asked, genuinely wondering what motive these Gryffindors had.
Neville looked puzzled. "You're Harry's. That makes you one of us. Slytherins know how to look after their own; it's the same really, surely?"
Draco shook his head. "Never like this. You had to toe the line in Slytherin. To be protected, you had to do what you were told."
Neville stared at him, and his heart melted as he saw the disbelief on Draco's face and he knew then that none of the Slytherins had shown Draco the sort of open concern he was being given now. Well, perhaps Blaise and Pansy, he decided; those two, he was sure, would stick with Draco. But even they would maintain an aloofness in public that made it difficult for the blond to accept good old Gryffindor straightforwardness. And Draco needed to learn that, he decided, if he and Harry were going to go the distance.
With that the big Gryffindor made up his mind that Draco needed something different. Something direct, physical, and unequivocal. He grabbed hold of the blond, pulling him into a tender embrace. "You really have a hard time believing it, don't you? You're part of us, now, Draco," he said. "We'll take care of you."
For a moment, Draco stiffened in shock; and then as he felt how sincere Neville was, he found his body moved into the embrace quite naturally. For the second time in two days, he found a tear running down his cheek. Inside him, things seemed to fall into place. All his life, he'd tried so hard to belong. To be a proper Malfoy. A true Slytherin. A worthy Death Eater. He'd never really felt like he'd achieved it. He realised all at once that he'd never really felt like he belonged, until he found that he belonged to Harry. And that should have been a scary thing, should have felt like slavery, but in fact he knew it had made him freer than he had ever been before. And this acceptance, this being part of 'us', that was the same.
He belonged. Not because he was clever enough, or devious enough, or strong enough. No, just being him was enough. He was accepted for himself.
"OK?" Neville asked, a smile on his face. A warm, accepting smile.
"Yeah," Draco answered. He couldn't see it, but the smile on his face matched Neville's as they left for lunch.

"Draco looks happy," Hermione observed.
Ron looked up from his lunch, and over at the blond, seated between Blaise and Pansy. He was a little concerned for a second, but spotted that Dean and Neville were sitting opposite him, and clearly being vigilant, so he could relax.
"Yep," he replied, taking another forkful of shepherd's pie.
"I noticed you guys sort of sat around him in Transfiguration."
"Yep," he replied. He would let Hermione take this her own way, he decided; he never gained anything by forcing her pace on the rare occasions when he was ahead of her.
"Something going on?"
Ron put down his fork.
"I don't know if you've noticed," he began, his tone light but hiding biting sarcasm underneath, "but Harry is in the Infirmary."
"Er, yes, had got that," the witch answered. Then, it seemed, she got the point. "Oh! And you think Draco might be a target as well."
"Sh!" Ron said. "Walls have ears, and all that. Yes, whoever attacked Harry didn't finish the job, so we figure there's a fair chance they'll attack Draco, either because he's Harry's intended, or because he's a Death Eater, or simply out of spite; he might even have been the real target."
"And you don't think it was Corner?" she asked, thinking that as the three Ravenclaws had gone, they were no longer a threat.
Ron gave her a wry look, the one that says 'surely you can work it out'; it was actually one she had given him often enough, but that didn't endear it to her any the more.
"Do you really think Corner would use Flagrante Transfero? Do you really think he could?"
Hermione thought about this for a second or two, and her lips twitched.
"Point," she said. "So, you really do care about him, don't you?"
"Draco? Harry does; that's good enough for me," Ron answered. "Feeling jealous?"
Hermione was a little shocked. Ron used to be so oblivious; here he was hitting the nail on the head first blow.
"Um, a little," she admitted, feeling very sheepish as she did so.
Ron grinned. "No need to be. Harry still loves us too, you know. We haven't been replaced; it's just that Draco's been added." He pointed to Hermione's untouched lunch. "Are you going to eat any of that?"
Hermione took the hint, and dug in, still thinking things through. All right, Harry loved Draco, and she could see that it was mutual. Hang it, anyone could see it was mutual. What perhaps was a surprise was that it would probably have been mutual even without the Debt. Not, of course, that they would ever have got together to find out without the Debt; but there was no point thinking about that. They were here now, and she had to work out she felt about that.
She wondered if the Debt still counted for anything; if she knew Harry, he'd forgotten all about it by now, and would only think about it if he felt Draco was being forced into something he didn't want. Harry would want a relationship of equals; he'd always been forced to be someone special, and the thing he wanted most was to be normal. Whatever that meant. To be treated like a real person and scolded when he deserved it, not put on a pedestal and worshipped.
But it was nothing more than pretty dream, really. The Debt wasn't going to go away, so anything it forced them to do was their new normal. Harry would just have to go with the flow. He was good at that when he had to be; but perhaps, she thought, a little encouragement would not go amiss when he got back to them.
She hauled her thoughts back from the Debt to the issue of Draco and Harry's relationship, and her feelings about it. If Ron could accept it, she decided, she could too. He thought Harry still loved them; in her heart of hearts, Hermione knew he was right. Harry had never given up on anyone he cared about. Having Draco in the mix just made things more difficult; but then, when had things ever been easy? It was going to work, she decided, if sheer determination had anything to do with it. They'd just all have to work together to keep the friendships alive.
But this jealousy thing had to go.
She decided it was time to make overtures to Draco's friends. She turned to Pansy, smiled openly, and asked how her Transfiguration was going.
Both girls were quite surprised twenty minutes later when Blaise and Ron told them it was time to go to Charms.

Malfoy's assailant had hoped for an opening in the Ancient Runes class last thing; of the boys, only Longbottom took the class, so Draco would be protected on one side, there should be a clear run at the other. That was all that was needed; a diversion in Ancient Runes, second only to History of Magic for boredom, was not hard to engineer.
But to the enemy's dismay, the fuzzy-haired Gryffindor witch took the seat next to the blond; and her eyes roamed the class just as watchfully as the boys' had earlier. There wasn't even a chance after class, when people got a bit lax as they walked and chatted in the corridors; Longbottom and the girl – Granger, that was her name – strode off with Malfoy between them, keeping up quite a good pace.
This was deplorable. The Gryffindors were supposed to be enemies of the Slytherins. At least, that's what her contact had said. If they were protecting the Death Eater, things were going to get very difficult indeed. Without the Ravenclaw boys, there were precious few people to take the blame already. A new scapegoat had to be found, and fast. The first attack had been under the Auror's nose; very gratifying, but it wasn't going to work twice.

Harry slept all through Wednesday and showed no sign of stirring when Draco visited him after dinner. He quietly sat next to his lover, holding his hand to his lips. Madam Pomfrey came in, and Draco fully expected to be shooed away again; but as she surveyed the scene, to Draco's very great surprise she took out her wand and enlarged Harry's bed.
"There's nothing wrong with him that will hurt you," she said to Draco's surprised face. "Agnes Touauld sent me some notes – as a professional courtesy, and bound up in confidentiality; I'm sure you know I won't be telling anyone anything."
Draco nodded; he expected no less of the mediwitch. Poppy Pomfrey was one of the few people he'd never known anyone to have a bad word for; when it came to patient confidentiality, her reputation for being tight-lipped was legendary.
"She says that you two being together was …" She consulted the notes, and recited from them, "'evidently and markedly beneficial to Mr Potter's progress'. Who am I to argue with such a distinguished healer?"
Draco wasn't about to argue, either. He got changed into some hospital pajamas, and snuggled down next to his lover.

All was quiet and still in the infirmary. It should have been a good time to get to Potter. A whispered 'Alohomora' and the door opened, and a dark-robed figure crept in, slowly, quietly walking across the ward.
The first problem, though, was that it was dark. So dark, it was impossible to make out which beds were occupied. The waning moon should have given some light; but there was none.
Until …
All of a sudden, there was a bright swirl of colour. The uninvited visitor took a step back, momentarily blinded by the intense light. When vision returned, the colours became evident; the light was made out of pulsating patches of red, silver and green, swirling together, making a wall. There was no doubt in the visitor's mind; this was the Haussmann shield. And by the looks of it, it was every bit as strong as they had said. It looked menacing, almost angry.
The Malfoy brat must be here too, the visitor surmised. There would be no getting through this, that was clear. Even if the shield fell to an attack, there would then be two wizards beyond it, woken and warned by the noise that breaking the shield would necessitate; not at all the stealth attack that had been planned. Deciding that discretion is the better part of valour, the interloper tip-toed quietly away.
The door, as it closed behind the swishing, dark robes, glowed briefly. The shield, it seemed, was active, and strong, and determined to protect the two lovers from any harm.
The assailant, cursing the evil chance, scurried away to bed, and a night's fitful sleep dreaming of what might have been.
Draco, his Harry wrapped closely to him, slept markedly better than he had the night before.

Thursday 16 July
Flitwick came to the Infirmary first thing. He stood at the door, his eyes wide. Here in front of him, pulsating strongly, was a shield of no mean proportion. He touched it with his wand; it must have recognised his good intent, because it abruptly disappeared.
He opened the door, entered the room, and scurried over to the enlarged bed on which the two wizards lay fast asleep in each other's arms. He stood on a chair a little way from the bed, looked down at the two men and smiled.
After a few seconds, his presence must have registered with Draco, for a single silver eye opened and looked at him.
"Good morning, Mr Malfoy," he said, very quietly, his voice holding nothing but amusement. "I trust you slept well?"
"Yes thank you sir," the blond replied.
"Very good, very good. I noticed, when I came here, that there was a strong shield cast; was that your doing?"
"No," Draco replied; "though there was a strange moment last night …"
He went quiet, obviously calling a memory to mind; Flitwick did not pester him, though. Eventually, he seemed to come to himself.
"I thought it was a dream. It was like someone came in. Someone … evil. It was like there was a lump of blackness in the room. And then there was this ball of light … it must have been the Haussmann shield again. The black went away and I fell into slumber again."
Flitwick looked pensive. "This touches on why I'm here," he said. "There is a lot of concern for both Mr Potter and you amongst the staff; I think it would be good for you to avoid classes. Madam Pomfrey seems to think that you should stay with Mr Potter, for his sake; but if the Haussmann shield keeps you safe even with him recovering, then I think you should do so for yours as well. Are you agreeable to that?"
Draco was stunned. Was Flitwick really asking if Draco wanted to stay with Harry? What sort of a question was that?
"I think that would be … acceptable," he said with a smirk.

Robin Banks was very happy to learn that Draco was in the hospital wing with Harry; a moving target might be harder to hit, but a stationary target was easier to protect. Particularly if the shield was going to do that for him. Not that he relied on it exclusively; he set up his own wards and warning spells.
While he had been teaching at Hogwarts, the Ministry had felt he didn't need a partner; but now that there was a serious investigation under way, he had asked for, and got, the assistance of Toby Proudfoot. It felt good to sit down and discuss things with his partner again.
"So," Proudfoot was saying, "you've pretty much ruled out everyone except for two from Beauxbatons?"
"The Durmstrang contingent could still have been the supplier; I know you think it's unlikely, it would be too obvious; but we can't discount the fact that they are more likely to have access to dark artefacts."
"Don't forget the Veela connection, either," Proudfoot reminded him.
"True," Banks replied. "Yes, the two Delacour girls. That's a good point…"

Oddly enough, Blaise was the first student to find out that Draco was excused lessons. The tall, dark Italian visited the Infirmary before breakfast; in fact, he met Flitwick coming out. The Professor informed him that Harry was still out cold, and Draco was with him, and would stay the day.
"Ah! Blaise!" Draco said as he entered. "Good! I shall be here all day, so there are some things you can fetch for me."
Blaise smirked inwardly to himself. Here was the good old Draco, the one who ordered everyone around. He might be a little Slytherin snot at times; but he was their little Slytherin snot. He told Draco he didn't promise anything; he would see what he could do. They both knew what that meant; in the event Blaise and Pansy returned later, straight after breakfast, with everything Draco had demanded: books, parchment, quills, silk pajamas, and the little green box that Pansy knew perfectly well was filled with Draco's secret vice: sugar quills from Honeydukes.
At this point, Madam Pomfrey bustled up.
"Mr Zabini, kindly go and have breakfast; Mr Malfoy needs his, and I'm sure he'd rather have it undisturbed."
Leaving the Infirmary, Blaise encountered Ron and Hermione coming to visit Harry. He told them that Pomfrey had shooed him out, so they probably shouldn't visit yet; as they walked back to the Great Hall, he explained the situation to them, and was very gratified to note how concerned they were for Draco, not only for Harry. The odd friendships between Slytherin and Gryffindor were really growing; no-one could say that War was a good thing, but some of the consequences – removing the insane jealousies between houses, for example – they could be good.
At breakfast, Blaise had explained to the general company that Harry had not recovered yet, and Draco was going to spend the day with him. This announcement was met with the twin emotions of concern and relief: his friends were worried for Harry, and glad that Draco was with him, and out of danger.
Although, unless Blaise imagined it, there were some around the table who felt the other way: relieved Potter was not recovered, and concerned that Draco was out of danger. They would all have to keep a watchful eye out, he knew.

The day proved to be difficult for all of them. There was a tension brewing; suspicions were rising, and though they didn't follow the ancient Slytherin-Gryffindor line, the general human tendency to blame outsiders made the situation between the students from different schools an uncomfortable one. The two chaperones seemed to deal with this radically differently; Madame Dubois seemed to ignore it altogether, while Ivan Smetana wandered around with a dour look on his face, and made sure his two charges were together at all times.
It was Neville who finally decided that something had to be done about the atmosphere, and invited everyone, including the chaperones and Professor Flitwick, to hang out and play cards after dinner. The chaperones, recognising a peace offering when they saw one, encouraged their charges, and with the help of some butterbeer they managed to have a comfortable, if not entirely pleasant evening, until they broke up about nine o'clock, Professor Flitwick urging them all to get any homework finished and then turn in.
At this point Ron, Hermione, Blaise and Pansy took the opportunity to visit Draco, who was glad to be remembered and doubly glad when he found out that Blaise had smuggled butterbeer in with him. They sat together drinking and talking for nearly an hour. And if Madam Pomfrey noticed anything, perhaps it was the sound of laughter and seeing how much good it was doing everyone that meant she did not interfere,

"Draco?"
It was such a strange feeling. Draco knew he was asleep; but the light was so intense, so bright, so beautiful …
He opened his eyes; but it was not the Infirmary he saw.
He was standing in an orchard; apple trees around him rustled in the wind and gave off a delicious smell.
"Harry?" he asked, and suddenly he was there, in his lover's arms; but now they were inside, cuddling on a bed. The apple smell lingered; and then changed subtly into that unique, that wonderful smell that meant only one thing to Draco.
The smell of Harry.
There were no more words. Just the crash of Harry's lips on his, and then it all went quiet as a warm glow suffused through him and the gentle light dimmed.
"Sleep well," the voice he couldn't place told him.
Draco fell asleep with the soft words ringing in his ears and Harry's kiss tingling on his lips.

Friday 17 July
Consciousness came back slowly.
He knew this place.
"… dratted Gryffindor!"
He knew that voice, too. He loved that voice. A smile stole slowly across his face.
"That dratted Gryffindor, Draco, saved my bacon," another voice said. "So you hush."
Ah. Now that voice. That was … Blaise, that's right. That was his name.
Harry opened his eyes and stared at a very familiar ceiling. The infirmary. He'd made it, what – twelve days, thirteen days, this year, before his first visit? Yes, something like that was about right. He wondered if it was a record.
"He's waking up," the voice said. Blaise again.
Harry lifted his head and looked at them.
"Hello," he said.
"Ah! Mr Potter! You've decided to join us again," a very familiar voice said, as Madam Pomfrey came from her office. "I must say, I had hoped that you and I might not meet up here at all this year, but it was obviously a pipe dream. Now, Mr Zabini, remember what I said."
Blaise looked meek at this, turned to Harry and said, "I promised I'd leave you alone; but I have to say thank you; but for your shield, I think Longbottom and I would have been in serious trouble. I'm sorry it seems to be you that got the trouble."
"Neville," Harry replied.
"Scuzi?" Blaise asked.
"Call him 'Neville'."
"OK – Harry," the Italian replied, remembering his promise from weeks earlier. "Neville and I would have been in serious trouble. Thank you."
Harry grinned. "You're welcome," he said, and the tall dark Slytherin smiled back, turned, said farewell to Draco and left the infirmary.
At the same time, Madam Pomfrey bustled around him, casting diagnostic spells and looking every inch the consummate professional that she was. And Draco came and sat in the chair next to him, and grasped his hand very tightly indeed.
Harry turned to look at him.
"Draco, I'm sorry –" he began; but he got no further.
Because it's hard to say very much when your lips are otherwise occupied.

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/ . Please indicate which chapter you are reading, as aff doesn't make that clear. I will generally try to reply to posts before posting a new chapter.
The story is betaed by the wonderful BickyMonster, http://members.adult-fanfiction.org/profile.php?no=1296919762, with assistance from ruth_lity. The remaining errors are all my own!
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Returning to Sanity