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
- 56
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57. Return of Some Old Friends - and a Green-Eyed Monster
O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;

It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock

The meat it feeds on;…
Iago, from Shakespeare's Othello .

Wednesday 22 July
As Harry walked in to breakfast, a loud voice boomed out "'ARRY!" at him. He turned at once to view the teachers' table; and there, as large as life (which is to say, very large indeed) was Hagrid, beaming at him.
"Hagrid!" he yelled in reply as he rushed over to the table and unceremoniously gave the half-giant a hug across the table. "It's good to see you!"
"And you, 'Arry, and you," Hagrid replied. "'Ave you got some time to come and see me?"
"Yes, I have a free period after Transfiguration – can we come for morning tea?"
"Course yer can. Oh, and 'Arry? Madame Maxime's given me some pointers about cooking rock cakes, so yer'll have to try my new recipe."
"Of course," Harry said, beaming; though he was inwardly groaning. He doubted even Madame Maxime could save Hagrid's rock cakes; on the other hand, she could hardly make them worse, he supposed.
"Good," said Hagrid, returning the grin. "Now yer'd better go and see to that man of yours, he seems to have got caught up 'imself."
Harry looked over to see that indeed, Draco had rushed to the table and was standing chatting to a small group of people. He could see Blaise and Pansy; but who was that between them? As he watched, Draco pulled the new boy into a big hug.

As Hagrid hailed Harry, Draco spotted another newcomer: sitting between Pansy and Blaise was Theodore Nott. He knew that Nott had been undergoing intensive therapy at St Mungo's; it must have been paying dividends if he was able to come visiting, and his arm seemed to be pretty much healed, judging from the look of him eating breakfast.
Draco smiled at the three. Theo looked up at the blond, saw the smile, and gave him a wary one in reply. It gave Draco pause to realise that Theo was still anxious about how Draco felt about him.
Draco thought for half a second: how did he feel about Theo? Well, the boy had been put under the Imperius curse by an apparent expert, and forced to curse his friend; as far as Draco was concerned, there was no way Theo was at fault, and certainly nothing to be gained from blaming him. Taking his courage in both hands, Draco strode over to Theo and carefully shook his uninjured left arm, before pulling the other boy into a hug.
"Potter is definitely a corrupting influence on you," Pansy said; but they could all hear the amusement in her voice.
"Wouldn't trust anyone else to corrupt my dragon," said Harry, as he came up behind Draco and snaked his arm around his fiancé. To his delight, Draco leant back into his embrace and practically purred, before sitting down next to Theo.
"Good to see you looking well," Harry said to Theo, as he sat down between Draco and Ron.
Theo looked at him, which was a bit difficult with Draco sitting between them. The Slytherin was obviously rather nervous, still, and Harry smiled to him.
"We're not going to bite," he promised, as he served himself bacon and eggs from the dishes on the table. "The war's over, and we're all going to put the old enmities behind us. OK?"
Theo looked thoughtful, and then grinned as he reached out his arm and offered Harry his hand. Harry shook it, feeling slightly giddy at the trust the man was showing: it was not his good arm, but the injured one, that he offered.
"So, Potter," Pansy piped up, "worked out your animagus form yet?"
"What?" Harry said. "Er, um, no, not yet. Have you?"
"Well," said Pansy, a wicked grin on her face, "no, but Blaise and I do think that Draco's will be a Siamese cat."
"Oh ha ha," Draco replied, mirthlessly. "Well, if it is, dear, I shall be sure to scratch your eyes out first."
The banter continued around the table, as the students quite naturally talked and joked about their classes. Almost everyone joined in, and the conversation stayed light and friendly. Which Headmistress McGonagall, who was watching the students like a hawk, thought was an excellent development. The teachers were well aware of the chance for rivalries and unfriendliness to develop; there were still many people in the Wizarding world who bore serious grudges against people like Blaise, Pansy and Theo, for no other reason than that they were Slytherins.
Flitwick was watching as well. He was delighted that people were getting on, even with the suspicion caused by the attacks on Harry and Draco; he was quite certain that this was due in very large part to Harry's own efforts to include everyone. He was very proud of both Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy for the many ways in which they demonstrated every day that it was not only possible for former enemies to get together, but possible for the new alliance to be strong and enduring.
There were two people at the eighth years' table who were watching more than participating. Theo Nott found that his old friends were getting on very well without him, and he felt a bit left out; there was little he could add to the conversation, as he had not attended eighth year classes with the rest of them. He was feeling rather jealous of the easy manner in which Pansy and Blaise were getting along; he had always hoped to get together with Pansy, but Draco had always been in the way; and now it seemed he had a new rival …
Ron, sitting on the other side of Harry, spotted that Theo was a bit uncomfortable, and must have divined the reason and decided to do something about it, for he addressed Theo directly.
"Oi! Nott!" he yelled out, taking care to keep his voice friendly and inquisitive, rather than accusatory. "I hear Zabini is a demon when drunk, can you tell us any good stories?"
Blaise blushed bright red as Theo's eyes lit up.
"I recall there was this one time at a Slytherin party…" Nott began, and it wasn't long before the tall, thin, shy boy was caught up gossiping with the group, and it felt to the Slytherins like he'd always been there.
But, sitting on Ron's other side, one other person was still watching, and still silent. While Hermione had been at the classes, she did feel that maybe they were all taking their studies a bit too lightly. They would have exams soon; they should already be studying, not sitting around joking. Did no-one else care about their education?
Hermione found that she was still fighting the feelings that had crept up on her about Harry. Something in her had always enjoyed being the one he turned to for help; it was hard to get used to the fact that Draco seemed to be filling that role more and more. And even that Harry was needing less and less help; his scholastic abilities seemed to be greatly increased. It was a puzzle, and, like all puzzles, it bothered her. She wanted to work it out, to understand what was going on, and to be in charge again.
Her mood was not helped as Ron and Harry started whispering to each other. She was torn between curiosity to know what they were saying; and her upbringing that told her that eavesdropping was rude. But in the end she pretended her upbringing had won; but the truth was rather that they spoke too softly to hear; and that inflamed her feeling of being left out even more.
"Thanks, mate," Harry said.
"Course," Ron said, waving his toast to signal that the thanks were entirely unnecessary. "What did you and Bill have to talk about?"
"Ah," said Harry, "you noticed that he grabbed me after dinner last night, yeah?"
"Course," Ron said again. "I'm his brother, remember? He was eating too slowly, I could see something was on his mind; and then when you left the room half a minute after he did, it was kind of obvious."
"Oh," Harry said in surprise. Ron seemed to have grown up a lot; the old pre-Horcrux-hunt Ron would not have had eyes for anything but his own dinner. "In that case, thanks for not following us. It is kind of a secret, I gather. He didn't say much, only that he has something he needs to show me, but it's at Gringotts. We cleared it with the Headmistress and Slughorn that Draco and I can go and see him tomorrow afternoon as our Potions work is advanced enough to skip the lesson."
"Whoa, mate!" Ron said, more loudly. "Missing potions tomorrow! Result!"
Harry smiled. Hermione, who had heard this last remark, did not. What was Harry thinking? Skipping classes? Did he want to fail? And why was he being given special treatment? Again?

Wednesday's Transfiguration class picked up from where Friday's had left off as the discussion of animagus forms continued. Professor McGonagall outlined a general understanding of the theory; but then admitted that most animagi did it by pure fluke anyway; the only known recent animagi who had seriously worked at having an animagus form were the now famous examples of the three Marauders, James Potter, Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew, who had wanted to become animagi so they could support their werewolf friend, Remus Lupin, during his monthly changes.
"But in theory," she finished up, "we should be able to teach you the transformation."
"I bet Harry can do it already," Seamus yelled from the back of the room.
"Mr Finnigan, you know better than to call out in my class," McGonagall said sternly. "And, I would hope, better than to embarrass one of your fellow students. I don't think even our celebrated student has ever tried to assume an animagus form, have you Mr Pot-"
And here she looked over to Harry's seat; but her jaw fell open. Sitting on his stool, wagging his tail madly, was a beautiful black Labrador dog, who eyed her in the mournful, never-been-fed way that only Labradors can, before shaking his head.
"Very impressive, Mr Potter," she said. "Now kindly revert to human form, and don't forget you must register your animagus form – unlike certain other people we have already mentioned."
At this, the Labrador screwed his eyes up tight, for all the world as though he were concentrating madly; and then the screwed-up face became Harry's face, and he was sitting on the stool again.
The class erupted into noise. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about this; many expressing wonder, or admiration. By contrast, Draco drawled, "showing off again, Potter," as he smirked at him, but Harry could see admiration in his eyes.
Hermione, however, was in shock. She had read that it took weeks for even strong magicals to perfect an animagus form, and turning back was a mite tricky, too; yet Harry seemed to have done it as a party trick, a thought which made her quite angry. Either he had been practising without telling her, a thought that made her feel hurt, or he was showing off.
"Harry!" she hissed. "Are you trying to show everyone up?"
Harry looked at her, astonished, but it was Ron who answered.
"'Mione," he said, "you know he wasn't." He turned to his raven-haired friend. "I think she's a bit shocked. Probably thought it should be harder. You know how she gets when it looks like someone's broken the rules."
"Yeah," Harry replied with a smile, and cupped Hermione's chin with his right hand. "It's OK, Hermione; I was shocked too. I didn't do it on purpose; it just happened; I thought about it, wondering if I did have an animagus form, and what it might be, and then suddenly I was a Labrador."
Hermione looked at him. She could see he was telling the truth. She knew perfectly well with her rational mind that he would never try to upstage anyone, or make them feel small; that wasn't Harry at all. But her rational mind wasn't winning. She took some deep breaths, and forced down the feelings once again.
"I'm sorry," she said eventually. "Of course. I understand."
"All right then," McGonagall said, and the moment passed as the lesson moved on into a discussion of how to discover what your animagus form might be. It turned out that there were ways to find out: for example, people who could cast a Patronus often took a similar animagus form, though Dean pointed out that Harry gave the lie to that, as everyone knew his Patronus was a stag.
"Mr Potter does tend to be exceptional in most things though, you must admit," McGonagall replied.
"He's an exceptional lover, that's for sure," a certain blond member of the class said in a penetrating whisper. Both Harry and Minerva went bright red.
"That's quite enough of that, Mr Malfoy," the Headmistress said rather primly.
The discussion ranged across a couple of test spells and rituals, culminating in the inevitable homework exercise of trying out the various methods that had been discussed. But for once, the class was actually looking forward to Transfiguration homework.

Anders Anderssen was quite nervous. After his discussion with Harry Potter on Monday, he had agreed to talk to Robin Banks; as Harry had pointed out, the young Auror was quite pleasant and easy-going, and was sure to listen sympathetically to one of his students. Robin had agreed happily to see the Durmstrang student but had been rather busy on Tuesday; and so the meeting was held over until Wednesday morning, when Anders had a free period as, in common with over half the students, he was not studying History of Magic.
The delay had done nothing for the visiting student's nerves; he was shy enough at the best of times, but the thought of talking to an Auror meant that he worked himself up quite a bit during Transfiguration. Thankfully, he had avoided Professor McGonagall's eye during the class, so he hadn't shown his weakness openly in the class; but as he left, Ivan Smetana came up beside him.
"What's wrong, Anders?" the chaperone asked baldly. But at least he had the sense to ask in German, so that no curious ears would learn lines for gossiping mouths.
"N-nothing sir," the student replied, in the same language. "But please excuse me, I have to go and have a chat with our Defense teacher now."
Ivan stopped and regarded the lad shrewdly. "I think, perhaps, I should tag along," he said; and Anders knew that resistance would be useless. It always was with Durmstrang professors; they did as they pleased, and the students put up with it.
And so when Robin opened his door, he found two Durmstrang visitors on his doorstep. He smiled easily at the pair, and invited them in with a nod and a sweep of his hand. As they sat down, he noticed that the student was practically shaking with fear; so he offered them tea, and quietly slipped some calming draught into it.
"Mr Anderssen, Mr Smetana, thank you for coming by," he began; and to Anders's obvious relief, he said it in German. "I think perhaps English is uncomfortable than for you, and my Swedish is poor; shall we converse in German?"
Anders nodded.
"Very good," the Auror continued. "Now, Harry tells me you want to say something about the Charms class; are you happy to tell Mr Smetana and me about that?"
The boy took a deep breath and nodded. "As you know, I have an aptitude for Charms," he began, "so I have been very careful in the Charms room. Mr Smetana has made it very plain how easy it would be for us to be accused of wrong-doing because we are outsiders."
"There is wisdom in that," the Auror conceded. "But you did see that when there was wrong-doing, we took care to find out it was Mr Corner and his friends at the root of it?"
Anders pondered this. "Yes," he mused, "that is true. I hadn't really thought about it like that. But yes, you have tried to punish only the guilty, I see that."
Robin was delighted to see that the boy's face looked a lot less stressed and worried than before; whether it was the reassurance or the calming draught, or a combination of the two, was really neither here nor there.
"So, you were careful in the Charms room?" Robin prompted.
"Yes. People leave personal items there; it would be possible to steal someone else's goods, or to introduce something incriminating in with their items. So my own items were charmed. Just before Mr Potter was attacked, someone tried to put something into the pile of books I leave there. Of course, they failed; but by the signature of the magic, it was some Dark object."
"I see," Robin said. "You suspect it was a cursed galleon?"
Anders smiled and nodded, clearly grateful to be so easily understood.
"Of course, I do not know this. But I very much think so, yes."
"And you know who that someone is?" Robin said.
"Oh yes," Anders said, and named the person.
Robin sat back in his chair.
"Yes," he said softly. "I have had my eye on that lady for some time, too. Really, she was the only person who could have sneaked that galleon in to Corner's hand."
Smetana arched an eyebrow. "You think so?" he said sharply.
"Oh yes," the Auror replied. "After all, it can't have been a Veela – Transfero spells cast by Veela magic are highly volatile, they couldn't cast the spell safely at all, nor have possession of the coin for more than an hour or so. As for the others, well, Mr Corner is something of a loner…"
"Yes, I see what you mean," Smetana replied.
"Well, thank you for your help, Mr Anderssen," the Auror said. "Is there anything else you need?"
The Swede blinked at him. "Is that it?" he said, clearly dumbfounded.
Robin nodded.
"You – you just believe me? Just like that?"
"Of course," the Auror replied. "Why should I not believe you, when you are telling the truth?"
Anderssen looked shocked, and Smetana appeared to take pity on him.
"Go and get ready for lunch," the chaperone said softly. The Swede nodded, and left the room.
"Quite brilliant at Charms, that one," Smetana said conversationally, "but not really Durmstrang material. Too shy."
"Ah," Banks observed, "but he does have the courage to come and tell me what's on his mind. That's quite something. Tell me, Mr Smetana, do you have the same courage? Will you tell me why you have suddenly stopped looking at Draco Malfoy like you want to kill him?"
Ivan Smetana winced. "Ah, I see. You are a very observant fellow, Mr Banks. I think, perhaps, I should trust you, and tell you the truth. Maybe that will make things easier."
"If you tell me the truth," the Auror replied, "and it stops people getting hurt, I promise you that it will make things easier."
Smetana laughed. "For whom? Heh? You want me to say I threw the cursed coin, so your career is easier?"
"The truth, we said," Robin replied mildly. "I know who threw the coin, and it was Corner, not you. And I even know who gave it to him, and probably convinced him that it had a mild Stupefy on it – I found evidence of that in the fragments that were left, by the way."
Smetana became very serious indeed. "I see, I think we have all underestimated you, Mr Banks, because you are so young. But I remember your marks – you were a brilliant student."
"Though we never quite saw eye to eye on behavioral issues, I seem to recall, Professor Karkaroff," the other replied.
"So, you know."
"Yes."
"Well then," Karkaroff continued, "you tell me why I stopped looking at Draco Malfoy like I want to kill him."
"That I don't know for sure," said Robin Banks carefully, "but I think I can guess. When Harry was attacked, but not destroyed, you suddenly realised how powerful he is. And so how much of a protected position the Malfoys are in. You wanted revenge on Lucius Malfoy because he was an ass during the War; and because he was prepared to hunt you down and kill you. But I think – I hope – that you've now decided that he too was a victim of Voldemort; and while he might have acquiesced to the torture and killing to some degree, it's time to move on from there."
Karkaroff took a deep breath. "Yes," he said, "something like that. Alright. So, you know who we are hunting?"
Robin nodded.
"So why not arrest them?"
"We know there is a mole in the Ministry directing the villain here," Banks replied. "At the moment, I have taken steps to make sure the assailant isn't going to get very far; but we really want the contact as well."
"I see," said Karkaroff with an appreciative smirk. "You are a very clever man, Herr Banks. How can I help?"

"'Arry!" Hagrid said as Harry and Draco turned up at his hut. "'Ang on a minute. Fang! Down boy!"
And, having managed to get his dog to heel by almost sitting on it, Hagrid opened the door wide to let the two students in. Of course, as soon as he did so, Fang managed to get out from under him; and, mindful that Draco was not overly fond of animals, Harry made sure to grab Fang and let him greet him with the usual slobbery exuberance he had displayed over the years; and the look on Draco's face made it clear that the small sacrifice of dignity was worthwhile.
"Come in! Come in!" Hagrid was burbling as this reunion was taking place. "That's right! Never mind Fang, Malfoy, 'e won't 'urt you."
Draco, who had his own ideas about what would and wouldn't hurt him, and who knew from experience that his ideas and Hagrid's were wildly different, held his peace; but he did make sure that Harry was seated between him and the boarhound.
"Now! 'Ere you go!" Hagrid said, and steaming mugs of tea appeared in front of the three of them; and a plate of rock cakes that looked, for Hagrid's cooking, unusually palatable to Harry's practised eyes.
Harry decided that he did really have to show willing, so picked up one of the cakes and broke off a small bit. To his surprise, the cake actually broke quite easily, and he cautiously put the piece in his mouth and chewed.
"Mmm," he said appreciatively. "They're really good. Draco, try one."
Draco looked at him as though he were mad, but Harry broke him off a piece and put it in front of him, making it rather awkward for the blond to refuse, so he popped it into his mouth and was, in turn, surprised to find that such simple fare could be so delicious.
"That is good," he admitted.
Hagrid beamed with pride. "Yeah, well, Olympe, that's Madame Maxime from Beauxbatons, she told me the old ones I used to make were just awful and I wasn't to make rock cakes out of real rocks any more, and taught me her own recipe."
It took all of Draco's Malfoy training to keep from laughing at this; he could just hear the authoritarian Headmistress of Beauxbatons saying exactly that. An image of Hagrid cooking rock cakes in a Beauxbatons kitchen while wearing a pink apron sprang unbidden to his mind, and he almost choked on his tea.
"Yer right there, Malfoy?" Hagrid asked, and to Draco's astonishment his voice held real concern. He nodded in reply, which seemed to satisfy the giant. He certainly wasn't about to explain what had happened!
"So, anyway, you two together? 'Ow's that going? I must say, I didn't expect ever to see you sitting at my table willingly, Malfoy."
Draco looked at the Care of Magical Creatures teacher rather sheepishly; unbidden, the episode with the hippogriff Buckbeak, who had been condemned to death because of him, sprang to mind.
"I'm sorry," he said softly.
"Sorry, was that?" Hagrid said. "Sorry for wha'?"
"Sorry that I was a bastard to you. I hated you. Especially when that hippogriff wouldn't let me fly on him."
"Yeah, well, that's all done with now I reckon," Hagrid replied. "Seems to me we've all grown up a bit since those days. So, tell me what's been going on since the War?"
They chatted for a good long while; and when they went back up to lunch, Draco found, rather to his surprise, that he was Hagrid's friend; and somehow that gave him a warm feeling he never would have expected. Harry really was corrupting him, he mused; before the Battle of Hogwarts, he was filled with contempt and cold loathing for the half-giant, and had assumed that the feeling was mutual. Before, he felt the man was dangerous; now, he felt oddly safe. Hagrid still had ridiculously dangerous pets, but somehow the man himself felt utterly dependable. The past, it seemed, was gone. And certainly, never once again, then or in the future, was any of Draco's previous behaviour brought up, even tangentially. Except, as we shall see, in one small way…

As lunch was coming to a close. Harry received an owl asking him to join the Headmistress in her office. When he got there, he was rather surprised to find not only the Headmistress waiting for him, but Professor Babbling as well.
"Ah, Mr Potter," the Ancient Runes Professor began at once. "I have marked the work that you turned in last week, and I wanted to show you it particularly."
All of a sudden Harry felt like he was eleven years old again, and he remembered the first assignment Snape had handed back to him. As Professor Babbling handed over Harry's work, he took it with a trembling hand, and could barely bring himself to look at it. Given that he had never studied Runes, he expected to find gallons of red ink on it, correcting the many errors he must have made. And surely Professor Babbling would be no less barbed than Snape had been at this upstart who dared to enter her classroom without knowing her subject?
But there was no red ink, and no scathing comments written in spiky writing.
"As you can see, I found nothing at all to correct in your work," Professor Babbling said, her voice light and airy.
"That's… er… quite something, I guess," Harry stammered.
Professor Babbling fixed him with a beady eye.
"No, Mr Potter," she replied. "If one of my students had done it, that would be 'quite something'; in fact, it would be quite remarkable. Of the students in that class, only Miss Granger and Mr Malfoy have ever turned in work that was without error; and they certainly did not do so on their first attempt. You, on the other hand, have handed it an exercise that is not only completely correct, but many of your interpretations are, quite simply, inspired."
"Oh," said Harry. He couldn't think of anything else to say.
"Oh indeed. If I had not watched you myself, I would think that you had copied someone else's work; but I know you didn't. Mr Potter, we both want to know what is going on here; people simply do not display a natural talent for Ancient Runes straight away. But the Headmistress will discuss the wider implications; I simply would like to invite you to join my class on a more regular basis, Mr Potter."
"Oh," said Harry, again. "I guess this would mean Draco isn't alone in that class, so, um, I guess, yeah, I'd love to."
Professor Babbling pursed her lips in disapproval. "I do hope, Mr Potter, you will see this as an opportunity to learn a very interesting skill for which you appear to have an amazing aptitude, rather than merely a chance to spend time with your partner."
Harry blushed in embarrassment; but then he noticed that the Professor's eyes were twinkling.
"It's quite all right, I do understand," she reassured him. "Well, I shall see you after your Charms class, then."
And with that, the witch left the office.
McGonagall turned to him.
"Well, Harry, just what is going on? All the teachers have noticed that you are showing remarkable aptitude and magical strength. Such as exhibiting an animagus form on your first try. Is there anything you would like to tell me?"
"Er, no," Harry replied. "I mean, I'm just being me. I'm not trying to be unusual; I'm not aware of anything that's changed particularly."
"I see," said the Headmistress thoughtfully. "Well, I'm not about to complain about a student showing excellent work, Mr Potter. And now you'd better be off or you will be late for your Charms class."
"Yes, Headmistress," Harry said, and he left the office.

Feeling that she needed a few minutes to herself, Hermione reached the Charms classroom first, and set herself up ready for class. Damn, she thought, as the door opened just as she was finishing getting ready. She looked over and was quite surprised to see that it was Zabini and Parkinson who came in, and more so that the other girl came and sat right next to her, while Blaise took up a seat behind them.
"Hermione," Pansy said, "we need to talk."

The Charms class passed without much event. Draco noticed that Hermione was particularly quiet; she didn't even put her hand up when Flitwick asked about properties of Charms, and Draco was sure that she knew the answer. Just what was going on? She always volunteered in class. And why was she sitting next to Pansy of all people? It was good that they seemed to be getting on, but it did seem rather suspicious…
"Knut for your thoughts?" Harry asked, breaking in on his reverie.
"Ah," said Draco, a little startled. "I was just wondering what's up with Hermione."
"You too, eh?" Harry replied. "Yeah, I noticed where she's sitting and how quiet she's being. Still, it's not like she's causing any trouble."
"Yet," said Draco. He wasn't quite sure why he was feeling a little pessimistic; he just hoped he would be proved wrong.

Hermione's quietness evaporated the moment Harry walked into the Ancient Runes classroom.
"Harry?" she said quizzically. "Are you joining us again?"
"Mr Potter has shown a considerable aptitude for Ancient Runes, and I have asked him to attend," said Professor Babbling. "Now, kindly sit down quietly and attend, we have three more variant rune schemas to discuss today."
They took their seats. But Hermione was neither quiet nor still; she kept looking over at Harry, who was engrossed in the exercises Professor Babbling had set, and muttering to herself for some time. Everyone could see that she was fuming. The whole injustice of it all was building up inside her. It was so unfair! She had worked so hard to get where she was, and suddenly Harry could just swan in and be the expert?
After a while, as always in Runes classes, they got to discussing the different possible significances of their interpretations. Blaise, on Harry's other side, asked a question of the class in general; before Hermione could even open her mouth, Harry had given him the answer. It didn't make sense! He should be coming to her for help, not being the person other people went to!
When they had all finished the first set of exercises, Professor Babbling addressed the class again.
"Now, for your second set of exercises for the day, I must first teach you a new schema. This is quite an unusual schema, and has only come to be widely understood recently so is not in the books; but the Ministry will be examining students on it in future."
This development did not help Hermione's temper at all. For when they got to the exercises and Babbling asked the occasional question, for once Hermione did not have the answers down pat. Which was mortifying enough; but then Harry would screw his eyes up, pop them open, look up to the roof, and announce the answer, as if he had read it off the ceiling. And be praised for giving an answer 'worthy of Miss Granger at her best'.
It hurt. She tried to bottle her feelings up. The tears stung in her eyes, and she brutally wiped them away. But it was no use. All the jealousy, all the envy, the feelings of hurt, welled up inside of her. She remembered all the times she'd been put down because she was a girl, or a 'swot', or a 'mudblood'; and a red mist of anger descended on her. She spluttered incoherently with rage; then, to everyone's amazement, turned and fled out of the classroom.
Everyone looked shocked. Only one pair of eyes was hiding something else: the thought that here at last might be a useful way to get to Harry …

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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