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
- 5
- 6
- 7
6. Into Earth They Return Together
His sleep was disturbed that night.
He dreamed of Remus dueling Dolohov, and then in that strange way that dreams work and situations change in an instant, it was him, not Dolohov, killing Remus. It was him, not Bellatrix, who killed Tonks. It was his fault. All his fault. He fell to the ground, sobbing, as the guilt of it loomed up, a dark cloud looming in front of him, then swirling around him, menacing. Tendrils came out like fingers to grip him, threatening to crush him to death.
He deserved to die. He was a murderer.
Then there was another boy in his dream. His face was familiar, but recognition was hovering just out of reach; Harry could not think of who he might be.
“NO! You are not a killer! It’s not your fault,” he yelled.
Something in the force of the voice convinced him without argument, beyond any doubt, that the words were true. The other boy pointed his wand at the cloud. A red flame erupted from the wand’s tip and where it hit, the cloud turned white, and the fingers were no longer menacing; they touched him, caressed him, it was so soft, so calming, so … there were no more words, and he dreamt no more.
Harry woke from a deep and peaceful sleep hours later, with the sun on his face.

Monday, May 4 1998
He had told the Weasleys about Andromeda’s plan to be there from nine o’clock, and it had been decided that they would all get there then. They were a bit out of routine for getting up in the morning, which meant a small and hurried breakfast – by Weasley standards, that is; Harry had plenty of time for the tea and single piece of buttered toast that were all he could face.
Ron’s owl Pigwidgeon had brought the Daily Prophet, and Ron sat reading it over his second plate of bacon and eggs. The front page looked rather tame, by Prophet standards, merely alluding to the funerals that were to take place during the week. There was a photo of him, of course, a rather old one, and a line about “Funerals Harry Potter will be attending, p3” and he groaned inwardly. But it could have been worse. It might have been an embarrassing photo, with a story made up entirely of lies attached. There usually was whenever he did anything newsworthy. Or gossip-worthy. Or even just “hey, we-could-make-up-a-great-scandal-out-of-this”-worthy.
It then occurred to Harry that he had not seen the Sunday edition. He quite liked it, as a rule, because there tended to be longer articles, and just occasionally they were actually factual and interesting. It made a nice change from the usual weekday lies and trash.
“Was there a Prophet published yesterday?” he asked the table at large.
Everyone looked a bit shame-faced. There were a few “ums...” and “ers”, and then Ron admitted that there had been, but they thought it might be better for his blood pressure if he didn’t see it…
“Hand it over, then,” he demanded. Molly fished it out of a corner, folded over, and passed it to him.
As he opened it, a trumpet played and a garish headline leapt out of the page – literally; the publisher had obviously spent a fortune on a very special charm. “OUR SAVIOUR!” it read, in hideous purple letters, above an obviously retouched picture of himself, looking rather smug, and taking up most of the front page. He groaned, audibly this time, and read on.
The Boy who Lived Does It Again!
By Rita Skeeter
Once again the Wizarding world is in awe of Harry Potter, as the boy who lived through the Avada Kedavra curse as a baby has now vanquished our greatest foe! In a tense and thrilling showdown that marked the end of the Battle of Hogwarts, our Saviour used none other than his favourite charm, Expelliarmus, to disarm the villainous Dark Lord!
Mr. Potter has now officially been styled the Destroyer of Voldemort by the Ministry of Magic. Can it be long before he’s inducted into the Order of Merlin?
Inside: eyewitness accounts of the duel p2-3; interviews with Mr. Potter’s fellow students p4-6; and SO MUCH MORE!
They were quite right, it wasn’t good for his blood pressure. He threw the paper across the table in disgust.
“More tea?” Molly asked him.

They apparated to the funeral, which was to be held in a special chapel conjured overlooking the grounds of Hogwarts. The Ministry had decided that all who fell at the Battle of Hogwarts would be buried in a new cemetery at Hogsmeade. The chapel was in the middle of a rose garden, with walkways radiating out for people to wander along and be alone with their thoughts. And as he arrived, Harry saw two figures in black dresses standing together in a little bower at the end of one walkway. One of them was holding a small, squirming bundle that just had to be Teddy Tonks.
Harry wandered over, while the Weasleys and Hermione kept a respectful distance.
As he came up to them, both Andromeda and Narcissa turned to him, and Narcissa gave him a sad smile.
“I hope I’m not intruding,” he began.
“Mr. Potter – Harry – how nice to see you again,” said Narcissa. Somehow, Harry just hadn’t connected it, but of course Tonks was her niece, so it was perfectly reasonable that she would be at her funeral, Aurors or no Aurors.
“Of course you’re not intruding. I asked you to come, remember? And I’m very glad to see you.” said Andromeda, rather gruffly. “I confess I’m rather counting on you for help with your godson.”
Harry became aware of the unshed tears in her eyes. It must be horrible for her. “Of course,” he said, and held out his arms. She passed Teddy to him; the baby was awake, but quiet, and stared up at Harry. Harry was transfixed by the baby-blue eyes and blond hair. The sight put a bit of a lump in his throat.
“You’re beautiful, Teddy.”
No-one had told Harry that Teddy was a Metamorphmagus, like his mother had been, for the simple reason that nobody yet knew. So it was a shock to him when, as he kept watching at the baby, he found the eyes looking back at him were the same green as his own, and the blond hair was now his dark brown.
He couldn’t help a sharp intake of breath, and the two women rushed to him to see what the matter was. Andromeda smiled; somehow Harry was sure it must be for the first time that day.
“He’s a metamorphmagus! Just like Dora!” exclaimed Andromeda, a definite note of grandparental pride in her voice.
“And if he’s changed to match you, he likes you, Harry.” Narcissa added.
“Wow,” was all Harry could manage.
Andromeda had not missed the astonishment on his face at seeing Narcissa, and now that Teddy was settled, she explained.
“Cissy and I had a very long chat yesterday, Harry. We decided that this was the perfect opportunity to let the past stay in the past, and rebuild our relationship. We were always very fond of each other before I married Ted, so it wasn’t too hard to put the disownment behind us. It’s ironic really that all three sisters are out of the house of Black now, one dead, one disowned, one now a Malfoy, and the heir is a Potter standing here cuddling my grandson.”
Harry had forgotten about this bizarre state of affairs, but before he could think about it, or apologize (which he probably would have got scolded for), the grandson in question made a loud noise, accompanied by a rather foul smell.
“You’d better hand him here,” Andromeda said, retreating into the bower where Harry could see the baby’s changing bag had been stowed.
“Um, well, if I’m going to help, perhaps you should teach me?” Harry asked. As the twins had suggested, he was never going to be normal, he thought to himself with a touch of bitterness, so why not learn how to change a baby at his mother’s funeral?
Andromeda was a good teacher, and he managed to get the nappy off and a new one on without any accidents. He picked Teddy up and the baby made an enchanting cooing noise and promptly fell asleep.
Narcissa gave him another sad smile. “Very brave, and very well done, Harry.” Seeing his blush, she started on a new topic, “It was a little difficult to get permission to come today, but Dromeda managed it with the Aurors somehow. They always did have a soft spot for her.”
Andromeda laughed. A short, harsh sound, but amazing that she could, nonetheless, given the setting. Harry was growing in admiration for this incredibly resilient woman.
“Dromeda? Is that your family nick-name? Shall I call you that?” he teased.
“It was mostly Cissy’s name for me,” said Andromeda. “But I suppose, since you are practically family, you may use it, or choose your own.”
Harry was stunned. Practically family? Choose my own? e He was an orphan, and now he had two families! He had always been expected to take whatever he was given, and now he was being allowed, invited even, to choose a nickname for a lady he would always look up to. It did some very strange things to his heart.
“May I call you ‘Andy’?” he asked, his voice suddenly very quiet with emotion.
“Very well,” she said, nodding, and somehow he knew that she understood how important this moment was for him.
“Harry, I wonder if you would do something for me,” Narcissa asked. “The Aurors allowed Draco to come too – he was Nymphadora’s cousin, after all – but we felt it was prudent for him to stay inside the chapel; as he did actually have the dark mark, he could easily be a target for retaliation. Go inside and make sure he isn’t, would you, please?”
“Yes, of course,” said Harry, making his way inside, still cuddling his godson. His life was just getting stranger and stranger: now here he was, checking up on Draco Malfoy, his adversary for so many years, simply because his mother had asked him to. And because you want to, a voice in his head insisted. He supposed there was some truth in that.
When he got inside the door he found the chapel had several Aurors standing quite prominently. Hmm, he thought. Narcissa knew perfectly well they were there, and wouldn’t let Draco come to harm. What was she playing at? An official came up to him and chatted about the service; he agreed to the part he was asked to take. As his eyes adjusted to the indoor light, he spotted the two coffins at the front of the chapel, and forced himself to look away. There was Draco sitting by himself, with his head in his hands, at the end of a pew. Harry realized that he had chosen a spot that gave him a good view of a door out, with aisles to allow getaway in three directions. It couldn’t be accidental; he clearly was feeling paranoid. Having had the mark, it was probably justified, Harry thought, ruefully.
He made his way along the pew, “Hey,” he said, when still about halfway along; he didn’t want to spook the blond. Draco looked at him, gave a tired smile, and stared down at his feet again. Harry went and sat next to him. Draco looked at the baby in his arms.
“Is that –“
“Yeah, your cousin Teddy. How’s the Manor?” he asked. Smooth as ever, Harry, he thought. He really wasn’t cut out for small talk.
“Shit,” came the blunt and entirely unexpected answer.
Harry waited for an elaboration, and when none came, asked, “Want to talk about it?”
Draco looked at him with an expression of mock horror. “Not really. But I guess you won’t leave me alone if I don’t.”
“Yeah, pretty much,” Harry said, with a grin.
“Well, Father has all but lived in the study since we got back, shut up with his books and his fire-whiskey. I think he’s still looking into this Shield thing. But he hasn’t said three words together to me apart from ‘Please pass the butter’ and so on at meal times. Aunt Andromeda spent most of yesterday at the Manor. I stayed in my room.”
“You hid from your aunt?”
“Yeah, she’s pretty scary. And if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll kill you. Frankly, I’ve rather had enough of aunts in my house.”
Before Harry could respond, he was aware of a rush of motion, and Ginny came over and hugged him from behind.
“Hi Gin,” he said, a touch breathlessly. “Just watch out for Teddy, OK?”
“Oh,” she said, having not noticed the baby, “he’s adorable!”
As if to prove the point, Teddy opened his eyes. Ginny was clearly a bit unnerved to see eyes the same shade of green as Harry’s staring up at her from under a mop of unruly dark hair.
“How come he looks like you? Is he a meta-whatsit?”
“Yes, he’s a metamorphmagus, just like his mum. We only found out today.”
“Look who we found, Harry,” Fred’s voice interrupted them; he and George were coming along the pew, with Neville Longbottom in front of them. George continued, “he said he was going to sit with his grandmother but we told him not to be barmy. Then he wanted to sit with your classmates,”
George pointed over to the other side of the chapel, where he could see many of his other friends and classmates: Seamus and Dean and the Patil twins as well as Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson.
“But we told him he had to come and sit with the fun kids.” Fred finished up.
At this point, all the congregation seemed to be coming in, and in no time at all Harry found that Ron and Hermione were sitting behind him, with Narcissa sitting in front of her son, and next to Andromeda. Augusta Longbottom was sitting on the other side of Andromeda, and the Weasleys senior next to her. Harry had a strange feeling of being boxed in by his two adopted-into families. It was mostly delightful, but did feel a bit stifled as well.
The service began. There were the obligatory prayers; a few rather long, and patently insincere, speeches from Ministry officials; and some rather shorter, more to the point, and truly from the heart, words from her fellow Aurors. Eventually, the point Harry had been rather dreading arrived: he was called on “to say a few words in remembrance of the dear departed”. This invitation came from someone who, to Harry’s certain knowledge, had never met either of them in life, so he was a bit miffed at the stuffiness and hypocrisy of it all.
He got up and walked to the front, still holding Teddy. That gave him an idea.
“Well, Teddy Bear,” he said, addressing the baby in his arms, “these are the parents you’ll never meet. I’d like to tell you about them.”
“Your mother was an amazing woman. She managed to be fierce and kind, graceful and clumsy, all at the same time. When your father introduced her to me, she insisted on being called ‘Tonks’; she said you’d want people to use your surname if your fool of a mother had called you Nymphadora.”
This comment was met with a ripple of laughter. Harry worried that Andy might feel insulted until he looked over and saw her chuckling quite openly. Relieved, feeling the tension in the room lessen perceptibly, he ploughed on.
“Yeah, I guess she was pretty direct. You always knew where you stood with Tonks. She used to greet me with ‘Wotcha, Harry’ and I knew at once that we belonged together. She was the sort of person who you met, and it was like you’d known her forever. I’m so sorry you won’t meet her.”
“She had to talk your dad into marriage, you know. Well, order him, really. He said he was too poor and too old, that she deserved someone better. But the truth is, Teddy, there aren’t many people better than your dad was. And your mum didn’t want someone richer, or younger, or better. She loved him. And he loved her. I hope you find someone like that.”
“Don’t ever let people tell you that your father was less of a man for being a werewolf. He was, but he was also one of the kindest, humblest men I ever met. The first time I met him was just after I had been attacked by Dementors on the Hogwarts Express in third year; he made sure I ate plenty of chocolate to get over it. He showed the same combination of expert knowledge and practical caring in the whole time as our Defense Professor – he was the best one we ever had. He knew his stuff, and he cared about his students, about his friends, so deeply.”
“He cared about you, Teddy. He loved you so much. He died trying to make a world in which you could live a happier life. We need to remember that, Teddy Bear, and never be ashamed of him.”
He looked up to address the congregation directly.
“We all need to work for a world in which all our children can lead happier lives. Teddy’s dad was a werewolf, and so many people shunned him because of that. But we all need to stop judging people on one trait, but get to know them as whole people. Remus Lupin was one of my father’s best friends, and I’m so proud to be able to say he was my friend, too.“
With that, Harry almost ran back to his seat. His throat was so tight, he could not have said another word. As he passed Narcissa, she gave him a brilliant smile and whispered “well done”. She reached out for the baby. Harry gladly passed him over; he knew he was barely holding on to his emotions, and he didn’t want to put Teddy at any risk. He just managed to be seated before the tears in his eyes fell. He felt arms clutching him rather tentatively; it wasn’t quite the comfort that he needed, but he accepted Ginny’s embrace nonetheless.
The service concluded shortly after Harry’s speech. They went out into the cemetery proper and gathered round as the two coffins were interred side-by-side in the same grave. The Lupins had been robbed far too soon of togetherness in life; somehow it was fitting that they were returned to the earth together. The gravestones were levitated into place. Harry had a wry smile when he read the legend on Remus’s: apart from his name and dates, there was simply a circle, to represent the full moon, and the text Mischief Managed. A fitting tribute to Moony, the last of the original Marauders.
Walking back to the chapel from the graveside, the inevitable happened.
“Hello Mr. Potter, Virginia Grockle from the Daily Prophet,” said the reporter, thrusting her hand at him. Harry ignored it, and she continued, “I was just hoping you might like to say a few words for our readers? A little special quote from the Boy Who Lived Again?”
That did it. Harry had almost been prepared to play ball, but using a title like that…. He forced down his rising anger, and answered, through gritted teeth, “I think I said all I have to say during the ceremony – perhaps you could report that?”
And he sped up, leaving her behind, he wondered why it was that he seemed to be spending so much time suppressing his feelings. When had he stopped being spontaneous and out-of-control? Didn’t he want to feel anything any more?
The mourners gathered in a room next to the chapel for refreshments. There was lots of forced bonhomie, and everyone seemed to feel the need to come up to him and thank him for “those lovely heart-felt words”, or some equally saccharine variation on the theme. Harry guessed they meant well, but he felt like everyone was treating him with kid gloves, and it was driving him mental.
Harry couldn’t fathom how people could eat anything, but found a plate shoved into his hand with some ham sandwiches, and started to munch on them mechanically. That was it, he guessed; life had to go on, and giving and eating food was one of the primary ways to demonstrate it.
Draco Malfoy had not been at the graveside, and with a shock he realized why: the boy did not want to be so exposed in public. And that probably meant he was still inside the chapel, and Harry was willing to bet that no-one had offered him any sandwiches.
He made his way back inside, dodging several well-meant attempts to draw him into consoling conversations, and found that he was quite right: Draco was still sitting there, looking at his shoes, and no-one was paying him any attention.
He walked over and offered him the plate of sandwiches.
“What the fuck—“ Draco started; Harry had forgotten to warn of his approach. Then Draco eyed the plate, and Harry.
“Sandwiches, Potter? Seriously?” he drawled; but the effect was rather spoilt by his grabbing a sandwich and beginning to eat it with gusto.
“Seriously. And it’s Harry, remember?”
“I remember that your name is Harry, Potter,” came the smart rejoinder. “But I bet all those people out there have been using it, and none of them really gives a toss about you, do they?”
Harry realized that Draco had pretty much put his finger on the source of his irritation. They didn't care, really. People weren’t looking at one another as people. No, he was “The Saviour”, “The Destroyer of Voldemort”. The hero. The guy in the white hat. Of course someone gave him food. And Draco was “The Death-Eater’s Son”. The baddie. The guy in the black hat. Of course no-one did.
It was so wrong!
“Apart from the Weasleys, my friends, and your mother and aunt, you’re probably right.”
“Of course I’m right, Potter. And I bet everyone’s told you how wonderful your speech was, right? And so heart-felt?”
This stung Harry a little bit.
“It WAS heart-felt!” he replied, his voice rising.
“OF COURSE it was heart-felt!” Draco yelled back. “But none of them got it, did they? They still see it as: Lupin’s a werewolf, I’m a Death Eater, you’re a saviour. So he got snubbed, I get reviled, and you get put on a pedestal and treated like you’re made of glass. You could have said anything, anything at all, they would have lapped it up.”
Harry was amazed. Draco understood. He really got it. But he had a point – what good was Harry’s speech if no-one actually listened to what he said? He slumped down next to the blond, dejected.
“Yeah, you are right. So what the fuck is the point? Why do I bother trying to fix things? Why fight this insanity?”
Draco looked at him, eyes hooded. And then ….
SLAP!
Harry rubbed his chin. It stung, and he could feel that Draco’s hand had left an impression that he knew would be a livid red.
“Don’t you DARE give up, Harry Potter! We all thought, ‘what’s the point of fighting the Dark Lord?’ And you showed us. You beat him. But you needed your friends, right?”
Harry nodded.
“You can beat this. But you need us. Don’t forget that. And we need you.”
With that, the blond got up and walked out.
Harry only just heard his whispered parting words: “I need you”.

There was a commotion outside as Draco walked out; Harry could hear shrill voices questioning him. Loudest and shrillest of all was Rita Skeeter. He shuddered; he hadn’t thought about the fact that she would be here. But of course she was never going to miss this! His was a bit amazed that Virginia What’s-Her-Name had got to him before Rita did.
Without thinking, he went out to find the Weasleys.
Ginny was the first to spot him. “HARRY! What the HELL happened to your face?” she demanded.
“Sh Gin! Please!” he whispered frantically back, hoping against hope that the reporters hadn’t heard. He ducked back inside the chapel, and motioned for Ginny to follow him.
He decided to keep it simple. “Draco Malfoy slapped me,” he said; as she bridled, he continued, “I deserved it.”
“How the f-- do you work that out?”
Harry was amused that she stumbled over an obscenity. She was still legally a child, he remembered, and he was glad she still had that innocence.
“Gin, everyone here is being so careful with me. Treating me like I’m super fragile. Everyone has to be nice to me. As Draco put it, they’ve put me on a pedestal and treat me like I’m made of glass. But that’s the problem, Gin. They’re treating me as a hero, not as Harry. They’re not listening to what I’m saying. They’re succumbing to the madness that sees people in categories and says one person is important and another is not.”
Ginevra Weasley was no fool. She took a long look at Harry and took in his shining eyes, the clear passion in his voice, and the fact that he’d referred to Malfoy by his first name. There was something going on here, and after Saturday’s events, she had a pretty good idea what.
“And was Malfoy listening?” she asked.
“Yes!” he replied. “He really got it, Gin. And I started despairing about it, and instead of saying some nice platitudes that would have done nothing, he got my attention with this” – he pointed to the mark on his face – “and reminded me that I beat Voldemort, but needed help. And we can beat this, Gin, but I need help…”
At this point, Harry rather ran out of steam, embarrassed by his own passion. Gin smiled at him. “I think you’re right there. It’s time to go home. It’s been a hell of a morning, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” he said, and turned, and they both walked out. Draco was still there, surrounded by reporters. He was just finishing up, by the sound of it: “… I’d like to endorse everything that Harry Potter said about him. Remus Lupin was an excellent teacher. We may not have seen eye-to-eye as people, but I know now that that was my loss. I never had him as a friend, and I rather regret that. Now if you don’t mind, I think I should return home.”
While he was speaking, Harry put a glamour over the mark on his face, then grabbed the twins and Ginny, signaled to Molly, and they had all apparated back to the Burrow before any reporter had noticed him standing there.
No-one had seen the mark, then. The glamour had stopped the other Weasleys noticing it. He’d tell them about it, but in his own time. That he could deal with. Phew, he thought. A lucky escape.
Unfortunately not, as it turned out.

No-one wanted to do anything much in the afternoon. Harry Floo-called Andromeda, intending to apologize for running out on her; she cut him off straight away.
“You’re a big boy now, Harry, and you don’t need to tell me where you’re going. I told you, you’re allowed to have a life of your own. I know if I’d needed you, I could have found you. And frankly, you did an incredible job this morning, both with Teddy and with your speech. Talking to him was inspired. Now, Teddy is fussing for a feed, you run along and play, and we’ll be in touch.”
He suggested coming over to help, but she wouldn’t hear of it. At a bit of a loss, he wandered through into the front room. Hermione was sitting there, a huge book in her lap, brow furrowed in concentration. It was such a Hermione thing to do that he couldn’t help but grin.
“Tea?” he asked. “Mmm,” she replied. Taking this as assent, he went into the kitchen and made two cups of tea, taking them back into the other room and putting one next to her.
Hermione looked up, confused. “What? Umm, -” then, as she saw the tea, “oh, thanks Harry,” and her nose went straight back into the book.
He drank his tea in silence. Hermione did not move, other than to turn pages of the book.
“I’m just going outside to see what the others are up to,” he told her.
“Mmm, ok” she said.
“Or I might just go and throw myself off a cliff,” he said, on a whim, suspecting she wasn’t actually listening at all.
“OK, Harry,” was the reply. Brilliant, he thought. Might as well go talk to a Mountain Troll for all the sense I’m going to get out of her. So he went outside to see who was about. The twins were playing gnome-tennis, and George threw a racquet to him. It was a completely mindless game, he decided, and exactly what he needed. They played until tea-time.

As they were preparing for bed, Ron asked him about the glamour. Harry was surprised that he’d noticed it, but Ron pointed out that he had never been much good at hiding things from his friends for long, and glamours weren't much defense against wizards who cared enough to really look at him. Harry was truly delighted to learn not only that Ron cared so much about him (which he’d known already) but was prepared to say so. They’d neither of them ever been much good at expressing their feelings.
So, rather nervously, sat down on his bed, Ron opposite him, and told the story of the events just before they had left the funeral, except for Draco’s final words as he left the chapel; Harry told himself that Draco would have wanted them kept private.
“He’s absolutely right,” was Ron’s response.
Harry all but fell off the bed. “Agreeing with Draco Malfoy? Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?” he demanded.
Ron laughed. “Hey, I agree with you too, you know. We have to put all this divisive stuff behind us. Otherwise, it’s like Voldemort won. If we’re really going to build that better world for Teddy to live in, it has to involve all of us. We need Malfoy. And he needs us. Otherwise it’s all just going to fall apart again into pure-bloods and muggleborns and all that crap. So, yeah, if he can get that message across by slapping you, and you’re OK with it, then I guess it’s a good thing, right?”
Harry grinned. “Yeah, it is. Thanks. Goodnight, Ron.”
He went to bed, basking in the warm glow of his wonderful friendship with Ron Weasley. The last thing he thought of, in the few moments before he fell asleep, were those words from Draco.
“I need you.”
That night, he slept without dreams.

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.
The title is from Ecclesiastes 3:20 in the Douay-Rheims Bible. The more familiar version may come in useful as well …
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Returning to Sanity