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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
- 60
- 61
- 62
61. Past Actions Return To Bite or Bless
Sunday 26 July
Armand Ionescu and Agnes Touauld lived in a charming house in the village of Autoir in the Midi-Pyrenees in Southern France. There was a small group of witches and wizards there, mostly retired, who were happily integrated into the local population. There was no nonsense about blood status here; they regarded their Muggle neighbours with no ill-feeling at all and happily joined in with village life.
This was, in fact, the secret of a good deal of their privacy. Many people had sought them out over the years; but wizards, particularly British ones, would tend to look for enclaves of magicals, separate from the Muggles, and so pass right over the little village entirely as not being at all the sort of place that a witch and wizard would live.
The two lived a quiet life in a modest cottage. The country folk knew that they had retired 'a good long time ago', as it was reckoned in the village, so they assumed the two must have investments to live off. And Madame Touauld was also often consulted by the women of the village; she had a marvelous gift of healing them and their children, and seemed to be able to provide herbal tonics for almost every ailment. 'Why', the villagers would exclaim, 'your skill is practically magic!' They had no idea that this was literally true.
Very little disturbed their life for twenty years, until Minerva McGonagall had got in touch and asked Agnes to 'have a little look at a dear student of mine'. Since then, they seemed to have been drawn back into the British Wizarding scene; and Armand was finding, to his surprise, that he really enjoyed his return to teaching. But it wasn't particularly enjoyable for either of them when he sat bolt upright in bed at five o'clock on Sunday morning.
"The twin!" he shouted.
"Wha- what?" Agnes said, suddenly awake. "What twin? What are you on about?"
"Sorry, my dear," he replied. "I've just realised what the problem I was having on Friday is."
He had now got her interest. "You've just realised what the problem is?" she repeated. "Not what the solution is?"
"Just so," he replied. "When I was talking with Auror Banks, I knew there was something wrong with what he was telling me, but I couldn't put my finger on it. And now, I know what was wrong."
Agnes waited. She knew her man; it would do no good to prod him, he would tell her soon enough if he could. So much of what went on inside his head was confidential, so he tended to clam up by default when she tried to pry.
"Yes," he continued musingly. "I shall have to talk with him tomorrow." With that, much to Agnes's annoyance, he settled down and went back to sleep.
Men! she thought. He had always found it easy to go back to sleep, but she found it impossible. Once she was awake, that was it. So she decided she might as well get on with the day, got up, and made herself some coffee.

Monday 27 July
At breakfast in the Great Hall, McGonagall rose to make an announcement.
"When we began teaching, I was asked why classes started on a Friday. I am now able to answer you. It was so that we can give you this Friday off. The Ministry has decreed that from now on, Harry Potter's birthday, the 31st of July, will be a Wizarding holiday. I'm sure you will all wish to join with us in celebrating this event; we will be having a Quidditch match organised by Mr Weasley in the morning, and a special luncheon, after which you are all free to spend the afternoon as you wish."
This announcement was greeted with general cheers; indeed, the only person who did not look particularly pleased about it was the putative guest of honour.
"Cheer up, Harry," Hermione told him. "I'm afraid you're just going to accept that people want to celebrate, and your achievements give them a reason to do so."
Harry gave her a weak smile. She knew it meant that he wasn't happy; but he would put up with it, for her sake, if nothing else. That thought gave her a warm feeling; she accepted that she was still his friend, whatever happened. The green-eyed monster was well and truly dead, and she was determined that it would remain so.

Robin was sitting in his office at Hogwarts preparing his lesson for Tuesday when he received a Floo call.
"Hello?" he said, then recognised the caller. "Professor Ionescu, how lovely to hear from you. Would you like to step through?"
"I think that would be best, yes," the mind healer replied, and did so.
"Coffee?" Robin asked, knowing that Armand never touched tea.
"Yes, thank you, that would be nice," said Armand. As Robin called for a house-elf and ordered coffee, Armand continued, "I have realised what the problem was on Friday. It was the twin."
"The twin?" Robin asked quizzically. "You mean Danielle Thibault?"
"Just so," Armand replied. "I'm sure you have seen how the two of them are always together. When I assessed Danielle, there was a clear link to her thoughts about her sister in her mind. Identical twins are nearly always like that; they share some sort of mental closeness that fraternal twins and siblings do not. And they are identical twins. But you reported nothing like that when you observed her memory?"
"No," Robin replied slowly, thinking back to the memory. "No, there was nothing at all about the twin. And now that you mention it, it does seem very strange. I mean, where was she when this attack was supposedly happening?"
"Exactly so. I believe the memory is a fake; there was no attack. And that is why she asked you to perform Legilimens and not me; I would have known instantly."
"That makes sense," Robin agreed. "We checked on the parents; the report is that they have gone away on a camping holiday in central Europe somewhere and can't be contacted easily."
"And that is probably quite true," Ionescu replied. "After all, there would be no point in fabricating this memory if the parents were at home to give the lie to it when you called. Can you perhaps send an owl?"
"We have already done so," Robin replied, "we are just waiting for it to return. In the meantime, what do you advise?"
"I think we have to keep the students safe from the two students," Armand replied. "If Marie Thibault is offering you a false memory, either she knows it's a fake and is the perpetrator, or Eva Thillin knows it's a fake and she's the dangerous one."
"We don't have any evidence as to which of them did it," Robin replied cautiously.
"No," agreed Armand. "But it takes some skill to create a false memory. My suspicion is that someone else created it and one of these two applied it. That would account for it being believable in itself, meaning it must have been crafted with some care, but not properly integrated into the twin-feature of Marie Thibault. In other words, made by someone skilled but inserted by someone with less skill."
"I see," Robin said. "And you think the skilled person is not at Hogwarts?"
"Exactly so," Armand said, beaming. "That is why he or she did not insert it themselves."
"All right," Robin agreed. "On that hypothesis, we really only need to worry about the two girls then."
"Yes," Armand said. "Can you not just, what is the expression, 'pick them up'?"
"I'd need quite a bit of proof to do that," Robin said, "and really I don't have any. There's the international issue to think about - as they are from Beauxbatons, the Department of International Magical Co-operation would get involved, and I can't imagine Rosier would be gentle with us if things went wrong."
Armand drew in a sharp breath. "Anton Rosier?" he asked.
"Yes," the Auror replied, somewhat surprised at the vehemence in the old man's voice.
"That man is a snake," Armand warned. "Watch him very carefully. Yes, you don't want him involved at all if you can possibly avoid it. Which leaves catching them red-handed; not a pleasant thought. I do not wish to use school students as bait to catch a homicidal maniac."
Robin let out a hollow chuckle. "I have to agree with you there. Tell you what, for the moment I can set up a tracking spell on them; we'll tell them it's for their own safety – which is true; if their controller found out we knew as much as we do I imagine the girls would be in considerable danger."
"I agree," Armand said. "A very neat little trick, and it should solve the problem, as you say, for the moment. What about long-term?"
"Oh," said Robin, a touch evasively, "there are other avenues we are exploring."
Armand looked at him critically, and then smiled.
"Very well, keep your secrets. Good day, Auror Banks."
"Good day, sir. And thank you for coming in."
Once the healer had left, Robin made a Floo call. This was something that would interest Lucius, he was sure of it. And indeed, the Malfoy patriarch agreed with Robin's assessment, and added a suggestion or two of his own about the particular Tracking charms to use.
"Oh, and one other thing," Lucius said. "Do you think Harry would be available on Wednesday afternoon?"
"I don't know," Robin said. "I imagine he has classes, but I suppose we could ask for him to be released from them. Why?"
"Oh, just something that would be very good for his Muggle Studies project," Lucius replied airily.
Robin knew he was not being told the whole story. But it wasn't really his problem. "I'll ask him and see what he says," he replied.
"Thank you," Lucius said politely. "Please ask him to Floo call me either way."

It was, Robin thought, rather ironic that it was the Charms class that he had to interrupt to see the two girls in question. He was careful to wait till near the end of class, and say that he 'just wanted to clear up a couple of points from Friday's lesson if I may'. As he left the room, he quietly grabbed Harry, and asked him to come by in half an hour or so, before proceeding with the two Beauxbatons students.
It was only when he got back into his office that he explained what was wanted.
The two girls looked at him with open mouths.
"What?" Thillin eventually exclaimed. "You want us to 'ave tracking spells on us?"
"For your own safety," Robin answered. "That way, if there is any problem, we will be able to confirm it was not you. And you can tell your controller that we are tracking you, if you think that will help."
"I also am not 'appy about zis," Thibault snapped.
"Well, I'm afraid the only real alternative is to take the two of you into protective custody?"
"WHAT?" Thillin exclaimed. "Me as well?"
"I'm afraid so," Robin replied. "If we took just Marie into custody, the risk for you would be enormous. We can't have that."
It took a little more argument, but eventually the two girls accepted the inevitable, and the tracking spells were placed on them.

Knock, knock.
"Sir?"
Robin gave his student a frosty look. "None of that, we're not in class now."
Harry grinned. "OK, Robin," he replied. "What did you want to see me about?"
"I had a visit from Armand Ionescu this morning. He's worked out what he thought was wrong on Friday. Given that you are intimately involved, I'd like to talk through what he said with you."
Harry nodded, and Robin explained the substance of his earlier conversation.
"After he left, I sought and obtained Ministry approval to put tracking spells on Eva Thillin and Marie Thibault. These have been applied. So I don't expect there to be any trouble for the next little while."
Harry frowned. "That's all very well, but can't you just bring them in? Or have more Aurors here watching?"
"Well, as you may remember, the Ministry suggested extra Aurors just before the break-out," Robin replied, "but there was no plausible way to disguise them, and having them here openly didn't really stop anything did it? It would just up the stakes somewhat, and I think it would bring a stronger attack."
Harry shuddered. "Stronger than the attack on the Quidditch pitch?"
"Yes, I think so," Robin replied. "I'm sorry you were involved in that, of course."
Harry shook his head. "Don't apologise," he replied. "You had no reason to suspect an attack then. And like you said, there were extra Aurors. I know that we can't really stop them if they're determined."
"Thanks," Robin said, flashing a bright smile. "It's good that you understand. Unfortunately, you and Draco are a target, and in the end people who are determined enough will get through the protections. But we still have them; they deter the people who aren't determined enough.
"As for bringing them in, well that is politically impossible without solid proof, I'm afraid. There would be a hell of a diplomatic row. And there's another reason. After dinner on Thursday night I went as an uninvited guest to a little party at Devil's Crag. The three from Spinner's End were there, and performed the first part of a ritual that needs to be completed on the Full Moon. So I would like to wait for that. I'm confident that they will lie low before then; then those three will make their move. We already know who the Ministry contact is, so we expect to be able to get the whole lot together."
"I see," Harry said. "How do you know?"
Robin smiled at him enigmatically. "I'm not going to tell you all my secrets, Harry," he replied.
"Fair enough," Harry said. "And when is the full moon?"
"August the eighth," the Auror replied promptly. He had clearly memorised this date. "So just stay out of trouble for about three weeks and we should be able to wrap it all up."
"I'll try," Harry replied. Though he doubted he could stay out of trouble for three minutes, let alone three weeks. "Is that all, sir?"
Robin gave him another filthy look for the 'sir' but did not comment. "There is one other thing," he said, and relayed Lucius's message.
"Well, I have Charms and Runes, but I'm sure I could ask about being excused," Harry replied, slightly mystified by the request. "If you'll excuse me, I'll go and ask Professor Flitwick now."
"Do that," Robin replied encouragingly. "Then you can let Lucius know this evening."

She was livid. Absolutely livid. That fool of an Auror was going to spoil everything!
She knew enough about Charms to know better than to try to fool the ones he had used. They were very serious tracking charms. He would know any magic she used; and she would not be surprised if magic with hostile intent would fail her.
She had to get a message to the controller. But how? There was no agreed way to get in touch without magic. An owl, perhaps? Risky. Who knew if the owls were tracked, at either end? Her contact had warned her not to use owls except in an emergency. Was this an emergency?
She mused on throughout the Arithmancy lesson, without coming to any final conclusion, other than that this was not at all the return she had expected on her labours. She almost wondered if she should turn herself in to Mr Potter and rat on her accomplice for immunity. After all, he was rich; he could give her the money she so desperately wanted. But she rather thought that she had crossed a line by using the Transfero charm on him, and she would not be forgiven for that.
No, she was stuck with playing out the hand she had.

Tuesday 28 July
Tuesday afternoon's practical Defense class was very interesting, Harry found. Robin Banks brought in some objects that had been confiscated by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and placed them around the classroom so that each pair of students had one to examine. Each object had been given a number next to it.
"Each of these items," he said, "has been spelled in some way with Dark Magic. None of them is dangerous, though if you trip the spells the result might be unpleasant. Your task is, in pairs or triples, to work out, using the diagnostics that Bill discussed last week, or any others that you know, exactly what spell or spells is on the object in front of you. Once you have done so, move on to the next object so you can identify more. There are, you will notice, some items on empty desks; if the pair working on the next item has not finished, you are free to pick any empty table you have not visited before. You might find this reference list helpful."
So saying, Robin waved his wand, and a list of the spells Bill had discussed appeared on the blackboard behind him. Hermione's jaw dropped when she saw it; she had taken reasonable notes, she thought, but the layout Robin had given was really beautiful. Each spell had the name, intent, incantation, and wand movement laid out in columns. She immediately started scribbling the table down on a piece of parchment.
"Miss Granger," Robin said, "this is a practical class. You really don't need to take notes."
And with that, he waved his wand again, and a copy of the table appeared on Hermione's parchment.
"Hey! Favouritism!" Pansy cried, half in jest.
"Not at all," Robin replied. "Who else would like a copy?"
Practically everyone put their hand up, and Robin told them to get out a new piece of parchment, then with a single wave of his wand he spelled the table onto it for each of them.
I love magic, Harry thought, as he viewed the table on the parchment in front of him. It was, he thought, practically a work of art; Robin had even contrived to put gilt edging on the layout so it looked like a picture in a frame.
The class went by in a flash after that, as they happily cast spells and argued about what was on each object. Robin was delighted that only one student managed to trip any of the spells on the object, which resulted in her receiving a Stinging Hex. He quickly healed it, before asking if anyone had detected this particular hex. A few hands went up, so Robin pointed out to the rest of the class that they all knew it was there now, so should make a note, which they did.
"Learning isn't just about what you can find out for yourself," he pointed out. "If you can learn from what other people do, you can often save yourself pain. In this case, stinging pain."

While Harry was busy in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Draco was occupied at the Burrow.
The plans that Arthur and Molly had been looking at on Saturday were no longer just plans on parchment; a small annex had now been added to the Burrow, covering up a piece of lawn that had always been infested with gnomes and which Molly had never been happy with. Draco wandered through, astonished at the speed of building; it really did pay to be the Deputy Minister of Magic.
Arthur, for his part, was rather apologetic. "As you can see," he said, "we got this done very quickly. I felt really bad about it; there are plenty of people out there who need extensions before we do. But the Minister insisted, and told me to take today off and supervise."
Draco nodded. He could understand Arthur's embarrassment; but he rather agreed with Kingsley. This was going to be a symbol, a message to everyone, and it was high time it was sent.
"Now, what did you want to show me?" he asked.
Arthur led him into one of the new rooms.
Draco looked at the only object in the room.
"Beautiful," he said, as his face lit up. "Yes, I can definitely work with this. Where does it come from?"
"Oh," Molly said, "it belonged to my brother Fabian. Somehow, we just couldn't use it, what with him being killed and all. But that won't be a problem?"
"I'm sure it will be no trouble," Draco assured her.

Wednesday 29 July
McGonagall and Flitwick had sought further information from Lucius about Harry's request to be excused from classes, and, once they had discovered what he was actually proposing, agreed that Harry should go, and gave permission for him to do so. As they didn't want Draco to be at risk, they asked if he could accompany Harry; and Lucius, after a moment's thought, decided that that would be a very good idea indeed.
Accordingly, after lunch on Wednesday, Harry and Draco, with Robin as escort, Flooed to the Manor to meet Lucius, who then took them through to his office in London. Robin was happy to hand the boys over to Lucius as they were going into Muggle London so he was less conspicuous than an Auror detail would have been.
"Sure you won't miss us?" Draco said cheekily. "You'll be bored."
"Sorry, Draco, but I have other things to excite me," Robin said with a wry grin. "And other duties – I have to escort Theodore Nott back to St Mungo's this afternoon. His arm is flaring up again and he needs to go back there for the next few days. So, please try to stay out of trouble, and I'll see you later."
And with that, he Flooed back to Hogwarts, and then the three other men left for London.
"So," Harry said when they got to Lucius's office, "are you going to tell me what this is all about?"
Lucius waved them over to some rather comfortable leather sofas and sat with them.
"Of course, you need to know before we go," he replied. "Do you remember Ken Barnett?"
Harry cast his mind back. He knew he had heard the name before. But when? And then it came to him. "He was the barrister you found for me," Harry said. "Thank you for that, by the way, he was very helpful."
"I'm glad," Lucius said, and Harry was rather thrilled to hear the genuine note of pleasure in Lucius's voice. "Now, Mr Barnett has a case this week which we thought you really should see. It involves a corrupt former policeman called Darren Dyson."
At the mention of the name, Harry stiffened. "I think I've heard that name," he said.
"I wouldn't be surprised," Lucius replied. "Mr Dyson was the main source of the information that was used to persuade the magistrate to grant the injunction against you."
Draco looked shocked. "And you want Harry to go and watch his trial?" he almost shrieked. "Father, how could you?"
Harry laid his hand on Draco's knee. "It's all right," he said. "Actually, I'd quite like to go and see. What is he charged with?"
"A variety of offences," Lucius answered, "but the most serious is blackmail. It turns out that Mr Dyson was fond of doing little 'favours' for people and then demanding hush money to stop it getting out."
Draco frowned. "But if it got out, wouldn't he be implicated?"
"No," Lucius said, appreciating his son's quick mind, "he was very careful to do everything through other policemen who would have been implicated. His name wasn't on the documents; but we found evidence that he was definitely there in the background, manipulating people."
"Fine," Harry said, getting rather impatient to be going. "How are we getting there?"
Lucius smiled. His son-in-law's enthusiasm was a refreshing trait. "The trial is at the Central Criminal Court, also known as the Old Bailey, and is a short walk away."
He rose, and opened the door.
"Shall we?"

Draco was still worried when they entered the public gallery right on two o'clock. How was Harry going to take it? Three hours later he had his answer: Harry had sat stonily silent the whole time, listening intently to every word. The Malfoys were both surprised at this lack of reaction; for, as Lucius had anticipated, they were there for the period when Darren Dyson was being cross-examined, and the matter described as 'the misrepresentation of a certain unnamed under-aged teenager as a criminal' was being discussed. They were, of course, all well aware from the outset that this had to mean Harry, and any doubt was removed when the names 'Tony Collias', 'George Grunnings' and 'Vernon Dursley' came up in cross-examination.
The defense, it seemed, was arguing that the whole thing was in fact a scam; as Harry had vanished, and the Crown had not produced him to give evidence, how, they asked, could this be taken seriously. Lucius and Draco were concerned that Harry would be upset by that. But there was no need; the Crown simply pointed out that there was no legal requirement for Mr Potter to come forward, and invited Mr Dyson to agree that 'sure the jury can understand that these allegations, and these proceedings, would be distressing for a seventeen-year-old to go through'. Harry watched the jury closely as Barnett said this; it was clear to him that he had won their hearts, if not their minds. Good. He didn't care very much about Dyson, beyond seeing justice done; but if the man was found guilty, it was just one more nail in the coffin for Vernon Dursley.
As they rose to leave, Draco scrutinised him for any sign of nerves; but he was amazed to see that his Harry looked stern, implacable, and totally in control of himself. They sat together in the bar that Lucius had met Tony Collias in; Lucius introduced them to the rather nice whisky he had before, and a while later Ken Barnett came in.
"Ah! Mr Potter!" he said, as he sat down while signaling the barman for another round of whisky. "Lucius suggested you might be there today, and I saw you in the gallery. I hope you were not too upset by the evidence today?"
"No," Harry said, his tone light and controlled. "It was fine. Do you think they will find him guilty?"
Barnett frowned at such a direct question. "Hard to say; juries are very fickle. But I would say that I'm pretty sure about this one. I think they didn't like the defense trying to insist that you don't exist."
"Would it help if I turned up?" Harry asked.
Barnett looked at him appraisingly. "It would be irregular," he replied after a pause. "What you saw is the case for the defense; the case for the prosecution is officially over. It's not unheard of to re-open it if a late witness appears, or fresh evidence is discovered; but I would say that I'd rather not get you involved at this late stage, if that's all right. It tends to make the judge grumpy. Also, I suspect that the barrister will close the case first thing tomorrow, and we'll then have closing speeches and send the jury out."
"That's fine," said Harry, amused that Ken had turned it around to avoid hurting his feelings. He guessed that made a good barrister, though. "When would you expect a verdict?"
"Hard to say. It's not impossible that we will get one tomorrow afternoon; I think the case is cut-and-dried, but the jury will do what it wants."
When they had finished their drinks, Lucius suggested a light meal at the Manor, as the boys were too late to dine at Hogwarts; which turned into a very pleasant evening, as Andromeda and Teddy were visiting Narcissa, and Teddy insisted on spending the whole evening sitting happily on his godfather's lap. Eventually the toddler fell fast asleep, and Andromeda was able to prise him gently from Harry's arms and take him home.
"Well, we should probably get back to Hogwarts as well," Harry said.
"Would you like to stay here for the night?" Narcissa asked.
"Thank you," said Harry, "but we have classes tomorrow; and it's Neville's birthday, we wouldn't want to miss that."
Draco's face fell. "But … we haven't got him a present!" he exclaimed.
"Don't worry, Dragon," Harry said. "I believe that's all taken care of."
"Indeed it is, Harry," Narcissa replied, handing him a large box which, judging by the effort it took them both, was quite heavy as well as large.
"Oh!" Draco said. "Is that what you and George were discussing at the Burrow?"
"Yes," said Harry. But he refused to be drawn any further, nor to allow Draco a peek in the box.

Thursday 30 July
Neville stretched as he woke, and felt those two strong arms he loved so much wrap themselves around him.
"Morning, sleepy-head," George's voice teased him.
"Wha-" Neville said, coming awake and sitting up all of a sudden. "Did I oversleep?" he asked, panicking slightly.
"No!" George replied with a laugh, and then kissed his husband all over his face. "Just teasing."
"How unusual," Neville said drily. He wondered if he would ever get used to his husband's sense of humour; in some ways, he rather hoped not. It would be nice to think that George could always surprise him. He lay back down on the bed, and George gave him happy birthday cuddles and kisses.
"Mmm," he said, "I could really get used to this. It was sad that Theo had to go back to St Mungo's; but I'm happy that it meant you could come."
"Me too," George said. He would have liked to stay in bed all day; but he had a shop to run, and Neville had classes to attend. Better get on with the day, he decided.
"Kreacher!" George called, and the house-elf appeared.
"Is Master Blood-Traitor George Weasley and Master Neville Longbottom being ready for their breakfasts?" he asked.
"Yes please!" George said, completely ignoring the insult. He wasn't about to let a little thing like a snarky house-elf ruin the mood of his husband's eighteenth birthday. Kreacher vanished; and a moment later, to Neville's surprise, a tray appeared, with a cloche in the middle, surrounded by pots containing berries, syrup, ice-cream …
"This looks interesting," he said.
"Doesn't it?" said George. He raised the cloche to expose a tower of pancakes, and snagged a couple onto a plate. "What would you like on your pancakes, love?"
Neville's eyebrows were raised at the sight. "What an amazing idea!" he said, as he dipped his finger in the syrup to test that it was, indeed, maple syrup.
"Isn't it?" George agreed. "This is Harry's birthday present, which is why you got to have Kreacher deliver it. You want the syrup?"
Neville nodded, his eyes sparkling with anticipation, and George poured an obscene amount of maple syrup onto the pancakes. Neville reached out to take the fork, but George beat him to it.
"Uh-uh!" he said. "Harry told me we have to do it like this." He cut off a piece of pancake with the fork, speared it, and brought it to Neville's mouth. Neville accepted the treat happily, and rewarded George with moans of delight that made George feel rather glad that his pajamas were loose. He then took up the fork and reciprocated, drooling as a dribble of syrup made its way down George's chin.
They continued feeding each other until Neville let out a moan of disappointment.
"We've run out of pancakes," he griped, "and I'm all sticky now."
"Shower?" George asked, the grin on his face promising that it would involve a lot more than merely washing.
"Damn good idea," Neville agreed, jumping out of bed in eager anticipation.

Neville adjusted the shower temperature to one that he knew they both liked, while George cast cleansing, stretching and lubrication charms on them, and a silencing charm on the room, adding wards against entry for good measure. Neville handed George the body wash as the red-head entered the shower cubicle. Wordlessly George poured out a generous amount into his left hand, discarding to container off to one side as he rubbed his hands together to coat them liberally. Then, focusing his full attention on his husband, he ran soapy hands slowly and sensuously down his body, teasing Neville's skin with his fingertips.
But Neville decided that he wasn't in the mood for slow and sensuous. He wrapped his arms round George, pressing their chests close together, and clashed lips together with him in a desperate kiss, his tongue demanding entrance into the other's mouth.
"Oh, you want it rough, eh?" George asked when they parted for air, a very Slytherinesque smirk on his lips.
"Fuck yes!" Neville replied, as George's right hand shot down Neville's body and grabbed his penis in a grip so hard it hurt. "Yes! More!" Neville moaned.
"Oh," George replied cockily, "I haven't even begun."
And with no further warning he thrust one finger of his left hand inside his lover. By long practice he was able to find the little bundle of nerves that was Neville's prostate in seconds, and the moans increased in volume dramatically.
"FUCK! YES! OH GODRIC!" Neville shouted in brief pants. He loved this so much. The things George made him feel were simply incredible and he was in danger of coming just from this one finger. "More!" he yelled desperately.
George could hear that his husband was already close to climax so he wasted no time in inserting another finger and then another, grateful for the stretching charm that meant Neville could take them quickly.
"Ready?" he asked, a touch breathless himself.
"I – was – born – ready!" Neville replied, each word coming on its own breath.
George smirked. He loved getting his husband all worked up like this. Especially when Neville wanted it rough. He removed his hand, turned Neville around, and, only waiting just long enough for his husband to brace himself against the wall, thrust his whole length inside in one smooth movement.
"GEORGE! Oh CIRCE! That's FANTASTIC!" Neville screamed.
"Can I move?" George asked.
"Merlin, yes!" Neville replied. And then, as George did so, "oh … Oh Merlin … Oh … Oh …"
George found himself totally turned on by the fact that he had reduced the big brave Gryffindor to a stammering pile of goo, and it was not long before he felt the rush of blood as his orgasm was near.
"Close…" he said, then leaned in to whisper in Neville's ear. "Come for me, love."
Neville closed his eyes and obeyed. He tried not to scream; but the sheer pleasure of the moment and joy of being loved by this incredible man forced their way out of him, and he shrieked George's name as he came forcefully. As he did so, his muscles clamped on his husband's cock, and George found himself tipping over the edge in ecstasy in time with his lover.
George caught Neville as he started to collapse and turned him so they were chest to chest as he eased them gently to the floor of the shower. Water still cascaded over them, but their attention was only for each other as Neville found himself wrapped tight in George's arms and the redhead peppered the blond with kisses.
"Happy birthday, love," he said. Neville, throat too sore for speech yet after the yelling, murmured his appreciation.

When they got down to the common room a while later, they found all of their friends waiting for them, and were nearly deafened by the shout of "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"
Neville was amazed. It seemed that the whole of the eighth year class was here – even the Durmstrang students, normally a bit stand-offish at any sort of social function, were there, shouting as loud as the rest. He looked around, to find that there was a lot more greenery than the usual ivy on the walls. He let out an 'eep!' of delight when he spotted one ugly-looking plant near the centre of the room.
"Mimbulus mimbletonia!" he shrieked. "How …? Where …?"
Harry chuckled to see the now fearless Gryffindor reduced to speechlessness by the ugly, unprepossessing, cactus-like plant.
"I knew that the one you had before died when the greenhouses were destroyed in the war," Harry answered, "so I asked around, and Narcissa agreed to look after one I was able to buy by owl-order for us. So it's been in the Manor greenhouse for the last few weeks. I hope it's all right?"
Neville looked over it critically, and then turned to his friend, beaming. "It's perfect. Thank you, Harry and Draco, this is amazing."
"Course, Neville," Harry replied, as ever embarrassed to be in the spotlight. "But the rest of the plants here were set up by everyone else. We decided to rename the Common Room the Green Room to celebrate the day for you."
"And I got you this to remind you of the place always," George said, as he snuck behind his husband and slipped his arms around him, revealing a small wrapped box in his hand. Neville took it and opened it. Inside was a silver chain; each link was in the shape of an ivy leaf. Neville put the bracelet around his wrist and smiled as he realised that indeed, the ivy snaked there would serve as a reminder of the ivy on the walls of the Common Room. The Green Room, now, he told himself.
"Right," Ron said. "Now that's done, can we go to breakfast?"
Hermione chuckled. That was her man all over. Yes, he loved Neville like a brother; but nothing had better ever separate a Weasley male from his food …

It was sickening. Four days that stupid charm had been on. Four days she had not dared to try anything against Malfoy or Potter. Four days without getting word to her controller. And tomorrow was that holiday from classes, and she would be stuck here for three days.
Or would she? Suddenly an idea formed in her head. But she would need cover for it. She gathered together the other two girls. She would need both, she realised; for, while Eva by herself would not excite any interest, anyone seeing Marie without Danielle might ask awkward questions. Happily, they both agreed to her plan.
So it was that at the breakfast table, Madame Dubois found herself besieged by three of her charges, Eva Thillin and the Thibault twins.
"Please, Madame," they asked in their most ingratiating manner, "please may we go to London to see ze sights? Please? We promise to stay together, if only you will let us go!"
Madame Dubois was secretly pleased by the request. It was about time these girls grew up; they were quite tiring to chaperone continuously. But she was still conscientious about the responsibility she had, and not about to see them get into any trouble.
"I will discuss the matter with Monsieur ze Auror Banks," she replied imperiously. "If he can cover you, and we find zome acceptable accommodation, I do not zee why not."
The three girls naturally erupted into cheers, and Madame Dubois looked appropriately severe. "That iz not yet definite," she pointed out to them. "Monsieur ze Auror must agree. I shall ask 'im if 'e can 'elp after breakfast."
"Thank you! Thank you, Madame!" the three twittered in unison.
"All right," she said with a tight smile. "Now, off you go, or you will be late for Arithmancy."

Ten minutes later, Madame Dubois was enjoying a citrus-peel tisane in Robin Banks's office, and inwardly congratulating herself on how clever she had been. It didn't matter what the Auror said, she would come off well. If he said yes, it would be because of her good offices on her charges' behalf; if no, then he would be the mean ogre, not her.
"Mon dieu!" she said as she sipped it appreciatively. "I think this is the first decent tisane I 'ave 'ad since leaving Paris in August!"
"Thank you, Madame," the Auror replied, giving a very proper little bow at the pretty compliment. "Now, how may I be of service to you?"
Madame Dubois sighed. She could see that this young man was all business; not only that, he had a girlfriend already. Such a shame! His manners were beautiful, he was stunningly handsome, and he was obviously going places in his career; he would be perfect for any of her girls. But, never mind, she thought, and explained the request that the three girls had made at breakfast time.
Robin made a show of thinking about this carefully. But inwardly, he could see exactly what was going on: the charms he had placed made it all but impossible for the Hogwarts spy to contact the controller by any magical means; direct contact was the only way that would not cause suspicion. Should he allow it?
On balance, he decided he would. That way, he would know what was going on, and be able to control it. He would, of course, have to make sure that they had the right Auror as their chaperone; but he rather thought Gawain would fall in with that. He just hoped that wasn't wishful thinking.
"I do not imagine that that will be a problem, Madame," he replied. "I will, of course, have to arrange an Auror to escort them; would you prefer that it be a female Auror?"
Madame Dubois inclined her head slightly in agreement. "That would be wise," she replied.
"Very good. And, with your permission, I would also like to alert the Department of International Magical Co-operation about this, so that they can take any steps they might consider appropriate to ensure the girls' safety and happiness."
"I do not think we should talk to Philip Anofeles," she replied. "I do not 'ave faith in 'im."
Robin smiled. "Neither, it seems, does the Ministry," he replied. "Mr Anofeles is currently on two weeks' leave by order of the Minister; and I understand that he is not expected to be returning to his post."
"And 'oo is in 'is place?" she inquired.
"Anton Rosier."
Madam Dubois lady pondered this information for a few moments. Anton Rosier? Yes, she remembered him. Good manners, good breeding; yes, it would be good for her girls to meet him, she decided.
"It eez a good idea, that," she agreed.
"Very good. I will aim to let you know by lunchtime."
"Zank you," she replied, putting down her now empty cup and standing to leave. Robin naturally stood with her, they kissed and she took her departure.
Robin sat back in the rather comfortable dragon-hide chair that he had inherited from his predecessors as the Defense Professor and interlaced his fingers. Yes, this could work quite well, he thought. The Auror would have to be chosen carefully; he needed someone he could trust. There was one name he recalled: Harry had spoken of Glinda Dalben-Chun. Robin did not know her personally, but Harry had spoken of her as trustworthy and it seemed that Kingsley had trusted her to return Harry to the Burrow from the Manor long ago; she might be worth pursuing.
He put through a Floo call to Gawain Robards. The man looked, as he always seemed to, rather frazzled.
"Auror Banks?" he snapped. "Something else gone wrong?"
Robin bit back the sharp reply that formed itself in his head. He had learnt long ago that he got much better results by ignoring such jibes.
"No sir," he replied non-committally. "But I have had a request that would require an Auror." He went on to explain the request that the three girls had made, ending by saying, "I would request Glinda Dalben-Chun, if she is available; and I'm sure that Mr Rosier would welcome the opportunity to chat with the girls, make sure all is well, that sort of thing."
Gawain's eyes twinkled. He had put a lot of trust in this young man, and he could see that it was paying off. He had always had his own suspicions about Rosier; and here was a chance to find out exactly what he was up to, he was sure of it. Banks wasn't suggesting this for no reason.
"Yes," he said, consulting the duty roster, "yes, Glinda could be made available, and I'm sure showing three young ladies the delights of Diagon Alley and Muggle London will seem a much more pleasant idea than the observation detail I had her down for. All right, I'll sort out accommodation at the Leaky Cauldron for them. Would you like me to square it with Rosier?"
"Please, sir," Robin replied, delighted that things seemed to be meshing together.
"However," the senior man said, his face suddenly more severe, "I am giving you a lot of latitude here, Auror Banks. I think it's about time you gave me a full account of your actions."
"Y-yes sir," Robin replied, rather in awe of the sheer authority that the man projected. That he could do so through a flickering green Floo image was truly impressive. "Ah – for a full account, I would have to warn Mr Malfoy."
"True," the Head Auror replied. "In fact, let's have a round table conference. You, me, Lucius, the Minister. Probably the Deputy Minister as he seems to be involved in anything to do with Hogwarts. Anyone else?"
"Perhaps Mr Potter? And Mr Draco Malfoy?"
Robards considered this for a moment. "Ye-es," he said, a touch reluctantly. "I suppose Mr Potter is involved rather deeply; and, perforce, Draco Malfoy. All right. Anyone else you trust?"
"It might be useful to hear from Auror Dalben-Chun at the same time," Robin replied.
"Good point. All right. In that case, we'd better have her return the girls to Hogwarts say Sunday lunchtime and arrange the meeting for some time in the afternoon. I take it you'd like to stay clear of the Ministry?"
"Yes, sir," Robin replied. "I'm sure between us we can find an alternative venue."
"All right. You take care of that, I'll take care of the other. Oh, and Banks?"
"Yes sir?"
"Good work, so far. I have been relaying your progress to the Minister, and on the whole he's quite pleased. Keep it up."
"Thank you, sir," Robin said.
He signed off, and made Floo calls to alert Lucius and then Arthur Weasley to what was up. They came to an agreement to have the meeting at Malfoy Manor at three o'clock on Sunday.
Robin sat back and finished his coffee. This was going to be an interesting few days.

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