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Returning to Sanity	By : AchillesTheGeek Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31213 -:- 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
- 67
- 68
- 69
68 Judgements Returned
Saturday 15 August
The first week of extra study had gone very well, even by Hermione's ridiculously high standards. The six friends had been joined by Neville Longbottom and Susan Bones; the eight students seemed to have become inseparable during the week, and Flitwick noted rather grimly that the interactions between this group and the Beauxbatons girls seemed to have become considerably curtailed. He supposed, given the way they must all feel about Eva Thillin, that this was probably inevitable; but it saddened him nonetheless.
What did please him, though, was the dramatic rise in the standard of work following the general announcement to the students on Monday evening that the NEWTS Assessment Test would be available for all students to sit if they wished on Saturday the twenty-second of August. This seemed to have galvanized most of the student body into action, and the concentration in classes during the week had been nothing short of remarkable.
As a result, he was almost glad that so many students had been invited to Ginny Weasley's seventeenth birthday party, and told them all to go and forget about schoolwork from Saturday afternoon until their return to the castle on Sunday evening. To no-one's surprise, Hermione Granger was the only person who seemed upset about this; but Flitwick assured her that the full day off from study would actually be beneficial; the chance to enjoy themselves and feel a bit refreshed would far outweigh the lost study time.
Accordingly, the gang Flooed to the Burrow at six o'clock to find that all the Weasleys except Ron had already arrived, so the party was practically in full swing already. Everyone seemed to be hugely excited, and Draco wondered if something was up; Molly seemed to be even more distracted than usual. The first hour was spent playing games laid on by Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes; then they sat down to an enormous three-course dinner, which lived up to Molly's formidable reputation.
Once the main course was eaten, there was a half-hour break for conversation. At least, that's what it was supposed to be for; but the unwary soon discovered that the twins had set up several of their Bouncing Balloon Chairs. Draco groaned as he found himself trapped once again in Balloon Chair armour, and George handed him two Beefy Bouncy Beating Batons as Neville challenged him to an impromptu duel. The Gryffindor soon thought better of the idea; Draco pummeled him to the ground just as Molly announced that dessert was ready.
"I don't think I could eat another bite," Draco protested, as Harry helped him out of the armour. But then his eyes lit up as he noticed the dishes that had been strategically placed in front of Harry and him: treacle tart, Spotted Dick, and Pavlova. Harry grinned to see his fiancé drooling over the desserts, and cut a large slice of Pavlova for him.
It was twenty minutes later, when a birthday cake appeared, that Ginny got up to spill the beans.
"I'm really glad that you could all come tonight to celebrate my coming of age," she began, "especially as Robin made my actual birthday so very special by ASKING ME TO MARRY HIM!"
As she shrieked the last words, she held aloft her left hand, now clearly wearing the beautiful engagement ring. The whole table erupted in to shouts of congratulations, and the noise was deafening. It only quieted down when there were some loud bangs, and a few seconds later fireworks appeared in the air, drawing a love-heart, with the words 'Congratulations Ginny and Robin'. The twins, it seemed, had not been caught unprepared.
"Told you, mate!" Ron mouthed across the table to Harry, who nodded in reply. Draco, feeling a little miffed that he had been left out of the loop, turned to Harry.
"Did you know?" he asked.
"Er, yeah," Harry replied sheepishly. "Lucius had his suspicions so we sorted out a booking for them for Ginny's birthday."
"At Le Jardin Magique?" Draco asked, and Harry reddened as it suddenly occurred to him that that might not have been the smartest of moves. What if Draco felt it was the wrong thing to have done? That giving Robin and Ginny dinner at the same restaurant that they had their engagement dinner at might somehow cheapen it in his eyes?
"Um, yes," he admitted.
But Draco smiled at him reassuringly. "You are such an incorrigible do-gooding romantic, Potter," he said, in the familiar snarky tones Harry knew he only now adopted to tease him.
"You wouldn't have it any other way, Malfoy," he replied in kind.
And before Draco could think of a witty come-back, he found his lips engulfed in a kiss. He looked round frantically, worried that they would be watched; he loved Harry deeply, but he was still a Malfoy and open displays of affection were still embarrassing. But no-one noticed; for, at the same time, Robin had had the same idea, so everyone was now watching the newly engaged couple having a very deep kiss. The twins, predictably, were making a huge ruckus, and Draco took advantage of the distraction to slip his arm around Harry.
It was true, he thought, as a sappy smile made its way onto his face. He wouldn't want Harry to be any other way.
-#-
Sunday 16 August
Anton Rosier breathed a sigh of relief when he reached the secure unit at St Mungo's. His contacts in the Auror department had managed to organize matters so that Dalben-Chun was off duty on the Sunday afternoon. Not only that, but, as he came in to the room in the secure ward where Umbridge was being held, he could see that the witch was being guarded by one of his people.
"Leave us until I come out," he instructed, and the Auror jumped to attention before leaving the room. Rosier cast privacy wards that would stop anyone but a medi-witch from entering, then leant over the patient.
"Who – who are you?" Umbridge said.
Rosier silently cursed again. What had gone wrong? The witch was supposed to remember him.
"My name," he said quietly, "is Anton Rosier."
As he had expected, the quiet voice drew the witch closer to him, the better to hear; and as she gazed at him, he expertly cast Legilimens and entered her mind.
Anton Rosier was steeped in the Dark Arts, and had quite a bit of experience entering other people's minds. He thought he had seen it all: brilliant minds, perfectly laid out, everything in order; ordinary minds, organized, but with stray thoughts wandering around; pedestrian minds, full of irrelevant thoughts seemingly crammed together. But nothing he had ever experienced prepared him for this mind. It was utter chaos. He poked and prodded, searching for some semblance of order; it took him a couple of minutes to find anything he could recognise. But he did; eventually, he found some memories of her time working for the Ministry, and managed to anchor a more-or-less accurate depiction of himself to them. He kept scrupulously to the facts; the inaccuracies were to do with her opinion of him. He decided against making it glowing and slavish, sticking to respectful. Even he, pompous ass that he was, could tell that making her practically worship him would not fly.
Half an hour later, he slipped out of the ward and made his way home. He was much happier now; indeed, he might even undo the spells on his mother and let her come home as well. But not yet. A few days more peace without her would do him the world of good, he decided.
-#-
Friday 21 st August
Rosier's good mood continued during the week. It had become very clear on the first Friday that Umbridge was in no fit state to be returned to Azkaban; indeed, the trial had been suspended to allow her to rest after only two hours. As a result, as they proceeded during the week, the little tweaks Rosier had made to her mind on the Sunday came into play, and the jurors were impressed that Rosier managed to gain her confidence early on.
As a result, he was able to lead them into discussing the ritual, in particular Circe's circlet, which had been recovered from the full moon ritual. Looking back, Rosier thought he had been particularly loquacious and convincing.
"Here," he had said, "we find that Madam Umbridge had been the victim of a ritual involving a Dark artefact. How many more such artefacts remain out there, undiscovered? Is the Minister taking steps to find them?"
Aurors were questioned; it became clear that the Ministry had not yet taken any steps in place to locate any Dark artefacts, largely because they were still concerned with finding any further stray Death Eaters and other hangers-on. At which point Rosier produced his secret weapon: three Aurors who knew about certain artefacts, and who had already informed the Ministry as to their whereabouts. Of course, the three were hand-picked, each of them owing Anton sizable favours; they knew where the artefacts were largely because they had put them there; and they had taken great care to report the artefacts' locations at times when the Ministry was overrun with the workload of following up Death Eaters, so that there was no manpower spare to seek them out. But the jurors knew none of this; they were simply presented with a picture of a Department failing to follow up leads, and the suggestion of entrenched incompetence throughout the Ministry. It was no surprise then that they started to argue among themselves as to whether further steps should be taken. Rosier smirked to himself inwardly even as his face maintained a neutral expression: the dissent, discord and doubt that he wanted had clearly been sown and would, he felt sure, bear fruit in time.
And now, here they were, at the last session of the week. Rosier rather hoped that this would be the end of the trial. Surely by now the panel had decided that it would be unconscionable to send the poor witch to Azkaban in her present state; with luck, they would decide to acquit her entirely, but he could work with even a partial result. All he really cared about was looking good. And so far, the enquiry had thrown a great deal of mud at the Auror Department, while International Magical Co-operation was coming off as the elder statesmen of the Ministry. It was an unusual platform to make a bid for the Chief Warlock position from, to be sure; but Rosier had confidence that he could bring it off.
He entered the courtroom, to find the lights dimmed. This was nothing new; the room had been kept in low light for most of the time when Umbridge was being tried, as bright lights seemed to spook her. He sat there, in the gloom, for a couple of minutes, and then the Aurors brought Umbridge in.
-#-
Robin brought Umbridge in, and made sure she was sitting comfortably. He knew that, in the low light, in his Auror robes, there was almost no chance that Rosier would recognise him. At least, not in time. Everything was now in place; the three Aurors that had testified had been thoroughly investigated; each of them proved to have rather unsavory connections to Rosier. They were now all safely in custody, thanks to Rosier showing his hand by having them testify. The fool had simply not realized what they were up to: the whole point of the trial was really to identify the conspirators. And, now that that was done, it was time to end it.
Umbridge started fussing.
"Why is it so dark?" she asked. "I cannot see anything!"
"Hush," Robin said, and the room lightened, just a little, and mostly around Rosier. The Auror was now standing behind her, and leant over her left shoulder, as if to murmur reassuring words. As a result of where he had chosen to stand, she could not see him as he intoned quietly.
"Revertere ad teipsum; I must not tell lies; revertere ad teipsum."
Umbridge gave a snort as she seemed to suddenly wake up.
"Ah!" she said, seeing only Rosier in the room. "Is it all over then? It all worked? We tricked them! They've decided to keep me out of Azkaban? And you will be Chief Warlock?"
"No!" Rosier started, "shut up, you stupid bitch!"
But Robin had followed the trigger phrase with a small spell that stopped her hearing properly; and anyway, she was already off on a gloating tangent of her own.
"To think!" she said. "They think I'm innocent when I was the leader of the break-out! Ha!"
"I'm afraid, Madam Umbridge," Doge's deceptively mild voice spoke out as the lights came on, "that that is not at all the case."
Dolores Umbridge looked around the Courtroom, seeing the panel of jurors, the Aurors, and Rosier, who was now himself pinned between two Aurors.
"Oh bugger," she said.
-#-
The rest of the afternoon flowed smoothly. Rosier, having been caught in the act, and being presented with the evidence that he had been complicit in both the breakout from Azkaban and the events at Hogwarts, pleaded guilty and was immediately sentenced to twenty years in Azkaban. Two of the Aurors were found guilty of complicity; but the third was shown to have acted under duress, and Kingsley pardoned both him and Angelo's father, who had been a Death Eater only because Voldemort had threatened to kill his wife and children otherwise. This was, it was demonstrated, quite a credible threat; the man had refused to fight on one occasion and the Death Eaters decided to be lenient, and afford him the privilege of being allowed to bury his wife. Not much of a privilege; her face was hideously distorted after all the Crucios that had been cast on her, and he still had nightmares.
Umbridge was parked in a holding cell and left till last.
"I suppose," Doge said, "as you are already a sentenced criminal, we only really need to decide if time should be added to your sentence for your part in the break-out and subsequent events. But such a consideration is rather academic, given that the original sentence was life imprisonment."
At this point, the Minister leaned over, and whispered in Doge's ear.
"Well," Doge said, "that is irregular, but I have no objection. Ladies and gentlemen, it has been suggested that there may be a remedial option available. Would we be comfortable handing Umbridge over to the Ministry for further assessment?"
The panel looked at one another, but eventually agreed, after much conferring, that this would be acceptable. No-one, it seemed, had any concerns about the Ministry stepping in; after all, it managed Azkaban, and could have instituted the programme there if it had wanted to.
No-one, that is, except Dolores Umbridge. She objected, most vociferously. But, as Banks cast a Silencio on her very quickly, it hardly mattered.
-#-
When he found out that his staff were goading the students to attack Dursley, Johann Ries had hit the roof. While he could understand that no-one had any love for the man, that did not excuse bullying, doubly so now that Vernon seemed to have accepted his state. He called a general meeting of the whole orphanage.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls," he began, and then stopped.
"Mildred Maugham!" he said sternly. "Stand up!"
A red-haired, freckled girl stood up, her face colouring to match her hair.
"Just exactly what do you think you are doing, pulling Joanna's hair?"
"I'm sure I'm very sorry, sir," she said.
"Are you?" the Director asked, his voice like steel. "I'm not sure that you are. I think that there has been a good deal of bullying going on, and even that some of our staff, being over-worked and finding it convenient to do so, were ignoring it." At this point, he raised his voice from a deathly quiet, which had everyone straining to hear, to a full shout. "I WIL NOT STAND FOR IT! Bullying will not be tolerated, not students attacking students, not staff bullying staff or students and especially not students attacking any member of staff. Do you understand?"
The children were wide-eyed at this. The Director had always been cool, calm and collected; he treated everyone with kindness. This scary person in front of them was someone they hoped never to see again. They got the message all right: leave Vernon alone.
Saturday 22 nd August
It was the following day that a new kindergarten assistant turned up. By lunchtime, the children had decided three things about her: they hated the hideous pink clothes she wore, they hated her horrid, high-pitched voice, and above all they hated her high-blown, condescending style.
Dolores Umbridge, for her part, sat at lunch feeling pleased with herself. True, she had to babysit orphaned brats; but the Director had given her a room of her own, and she could walk around the orphanage freely, and they were only going to have her with children for six hours a day. That couldn't be too bad, surely? Especially not compared to Azkaban. Dolores Umbridge was nothing if not a survivor, and a fighter; she was sure she could make this work for her.
True, there was that horrible Muggle to put up with; but she was sure she could ignore him. And she didn't have her wand; but she knew some wandless magic that she could employ on the brats. This might even be fun.
It was towards the end of the afternoon that things began to fall apart for her. The children had all had a nap, apart from little Elias, who wanted a story. Before now, every other helper had happily read him a story, and he had gone to sleep with no problem. But Dolores Umbridge was not any other helper.
"But that is not the rule," Umbridge explained to him, in her sing-song voice. "The rule is that everyone has to go down for a nap at two o'clock precisely. And you can see that all the other children are happily down for their nap."
"Don't wanna nap," Elias replied. "Wanna story."
"You want a story?" Umbridge said, her tone rapidly becoming menacing. "But I have told you, child, you are to have a nap. Now go to sleep!"
"No," Elias said, through tears, "always have story before nap."
"Not any more," Umbridge said softly, and fired a wandless sleeping charm at him.
-#-
"Just what do you think you're doing?" the teacher shrieked at her as she threw water in her face. "Sleeping on the job is not acceptable!"
"Wha-" Umbridge spluttered, coming suddenly awake and finding herself still in the room of children. "I didn't, I …"
"Cast a sleeping charm on poor Elias, didn't you?" the teacher said. "Get out of my class. Go and explain yourself to the Director. Violet," she said, turning to one of the older children, "please take Miss Umbridge to the Director's office, so she doesn't get lost."
"Very well, Miss Carson," the little girl said, and took Umbridge's hand, dragging her out of the room.
"I don't need any help!" the witch said, shaking the girl loose.
"Miss Umbridge!" Miss Carson hissed, disapproval coming off her in waves. "You will go with Violet! Now!"
And Dolores, finally wising up that she was not getting anywhere, did so, as Miss Carson gathered Elias into her lap, and started reading him a story.
Five minutes later, Elias was fast asleep, and the other children, who had, of course, been woken by the activity, and listened in to Elias's story, turned over and went back to sleep, much happier now that Miss Umbridge was out of the room.
-#-
When they arrived at the Director's office, to Umbridge's chagrin, Ries asked Violet what was going on before he said anything at all to her.
"Miss Umbridge fell asleep," the girl replied promptly. "Miss Carson said that she cast a sleeping charm on Elias, and it must have not worked or something."
"Ah, I see," he replied calmly. "Yes, thank you, my dear. You've done a good job bringing Miss Umbridge here, and explaining everything. Please return to your class, and thank Miss Carson for bringing this to my attention."
"Yes, sir!" the girl replied, her eyes shining at the praise as she skipped happily out of the office.
When she had gone, and the two of them were alone in the office, the Director fixed the witch with a beady eye.
"I confess, Umbridge, that I am quite disappointed. I thought I had made it quite clear to you that you were not to use magic?"
"Yes, but-"
"There are no 'but's here, Umbridge," the Director returned savagely. "You have been told the rules. You abide by them. Or, as you have discovered, there are unpleasant consequences. That's it. Now, I don't want you back in class today. Go and find Dursley and help him clean the washrooms on the second floor."
Umbridge stood there, stunned. Clean washrooms? That was a job for house-elves! Not for former Undersecretaries to Ministers! Not for former Hogwarts High Inquisitors! Not for …
Ries looked up. "Why are you still here?" he asked, sternly. "Get going!"
Umbridge still didn't move. Not until the stinging hex hit her. Then, completely forgetting all the justifications she had just told herself, she ran out screaming in search of the Muggle caretaker. Anything, she rationalized, was better than spending a moment longer with a man who so disrespected her!
-#-
An hour later, she wasn't so sure about this Muggle. He was, at least, properly respectful; he didn't say very much to her, but accepted her help, and gave her the better mop and bucket, and seemed not to mind when she told him she expected him to clean the toilets. At least, he didn't complain.
But of course, her mind told her. He was a filthy Muggle; she was a pure-blood witch. There was no comparison between them. Oh, she knew that he had been given a room, next to hers; and the Director had told her that she was no better than him; but she didn't believe that. It would have been a betrayal of her ideals.
At ten o'clock, their work finished, they made their way to the storage cupboard to put the mops and buckets away. She handed her equipment over without a word, and turned to go up to her room. She expected him to follow her, and was mildly surprised when he simply shut the door with himself on the inside of the cupboard. Normally, such an activity would have been way beneath her interest; but it was a mystery, and her curiosity was roused. She knocked on the door.
"Aren't you going to your room?" she asked when he opened it to her.
"No," he said softly. "I sleep here. The room won't let me in."
"Oh," said Umbridge, and, not being able to think of anything to say, turned on her heel and left.
She was halfway up the stairs before it dawned on her that here again was proof of her superior status: he was a Muggle sleeping in a cupboard, she was a pure-blood given a proper room. All was as it should be, she thought, as a smug grin formed on her face.
She opened the door to her room, turned on the light. Then she stepped inside, and turned back to the door to close it. As she turned round to see her room again she found, to her horror, that it had suddenly shrunk to a very small size indeed.
The size of a cupboard…
When Vernon woke the following morning, he, in his turn, was very surprised to find himself back in the room in which he had spent his first night at the orphanage. He got up and washed, finding, to his delight, that the twinges in his back that seemed to have become his constant companion had disappeared entirely. He made his way to breakfast, feeling more rested than he had for weeks. And, to his very great surprise, when he entered the kitchen he was given a plate of food and told to go and sit and eat it.
He sat quietly at the staff table and gingerly ate his breakfast, wondering when the pain in his stomach would start. To his continuing delight, there was no evidence of the malady that had afflicted him for months. He smiled inwardly. Perhaps, just perhaps, his life was getting a little better. Not that he was under any illusions that it would be as it had been before the orphanage; but he had come a long way since that day at Malfoy Manor, and suffered a lot, and he now greeted any little thing that improved it with a sense of gratitude at a bonus being given.
He watched the students and staff carefully, as always. They were treating him better recently; but it would not do to be complacent about it. Things were looking up, but they could, he felt sure, go back down again if he didn't look out; so he kept quiet, and watched and listened. Even when that new, and in his view awful, staff member sat next to him, he refrained from making any comment on her appearance. She was not so lucky with other members of staff.
"Hey, honey," Miss Carson said, in a voice dripping with entirely faked fellow feeling, "you look awful. Did you have a bad night last night?"
"Yeah," another teacher remarked, sitting down next to Miss Carson, "and it looks like you must have a dicky tummy, by the looks of that breakfast. Best go to sick bay, level two, and get the medi-witch to have a look at you."
Umbridge looked daggers at her, but only said "thanks", very quietly. Perhaps, Vernon thought, she was learning to behave sensibly. He doubted it, though. Time would tell.
-#-
The NEWTS Assessment Test took the whole day, and by five o'clock, when the examinees were finally dismissed, the students who had elected to take it were feeling exhausted. Flitwick had insisted that they take the rest of the weekend off to recharge, preferably away from the Castle. Accordingly, Ron and Hermione Flooed to the Burrow, and Harry and Draco left for the Manor.
When they arrived in the impressive reception room, Harry and Draco found themselves being greeted by Narcissa alone.
"Hello, darlings!" she said happily, taking each of them into an embrace separately and kissing each on the cheek, something Harry was still getting his head around. He was only just getting used to this openly affectionate side of the Malfoys.
"Hello mother," Draco replied. "Is father around?"
"Oh yes," she replied, "he and Dudley are in his study. Apparently there was some paperwork about Dudley's university entrance. Dippy!"
The house-elf appeared with a pop.
"How can Dippy be serving Mistress?" she said.
"Please ask Master Lucius if he and Dudley are ready to join us for a late afternoon tea in the green drawing room."
"Yes, Mistress!" the elf replied, vanishing again.
"Come," Narcissa said, leading them to the drawing room. "Leave your trunks there, Mappy will take them up."
Five minutes later they were seated in the drawing room, relaxing with tea, when Lucius and Dudley entered.
"Hello, my dear!" Lucius said, bending down to kiss his wife on the cheek and then sitting next to her. Noticing that the boy looked unsure of his welcome, he indicated a comfortable armchair and said, "Dudley, do sit, please."
"Thank you," Dudley said with a smile as he sat down.
"So, do you have news about your results, Dudders?" Harry asked.
"Um, yeah," his adopted brother replied. "Um, I got an A and two B's."
"Is that good?" Draco asked, being unsure of the Muggle grading system.
"It's fantastic!" Harry replied. "Petunia would be so proud of you! You said before you'd probably get in with two B's and a C, so you got a place?"
"Yeah," Dudley said, breaking into a grin, and Harry, realizing all at once that Dudley had desperately wanted Harry to be happy for him, gave a matching one. "I'm in to Civil Engineering at Swansea. You're right, Petunia would be proud; but Vernon would be absolutely disgusted."
"Let's not talk about him. That's great!" Harry said, with quite genuine enthusiasm. "Do you have a place to stay?"
"We have got an offer of a place in a Hall," Lucius replied. "I thought that would be the best to start with; then if Dudley is happy after first term we can look at buying a place for him to stay."
"Well!" said Narcissa, "I think this calls for celebration, and something a bit stronger than tea! Mappy! Champagne!"
The tea-set in front of them vanished, to be replaced with a bottle of Dom Perignon in an ice-bucket, together with five very elegant champagne flutes. Lucius picked up the white napkin next to the bucket, took the bottle, and expertly opened it, the cork sliding out into his hand as he finished. He filled the glasses and handed them round.
"Well then," he said when this ritual was finished and everyone was holding a glass. "Congratulations, Dudley Potter, and here is to a very successful University career!"
They all responded in kind, and Dudley went bright red with embarrassment to be so singled out for praise. His parents had always praised him whatever he did, which meant of course that their praise had never meant anything. Vernon and Petunia, he realized suddenly, praised him not for himself but only because it made them feel good as parents. Their whole focus was on looking good; and his achievements had been celebrated because they could bask in reflected glory. But the Malfoys had no connection to his success; they were simply glad for him, without receiving anything themselves. This, from his new family, this was real appreciation, and he found the sense of belonging it gave him was causing him to tear up.
"Thank you!" he said, almost choking on the words with emotion; and then he completely lost it as Harry reached his arm around him in reassurance. Draco, having set his own glass down, quietly took theirs as Harry pulled Dudley in to a proper hug, and then, after putting them down on the table as well, joined in to the hug.
After about twenty seconds, they broke apart.
"Thank you," Dudley said hoarsely. "I'm sorry to make such a show of myself. I just – it was so overwhelming."
"Don't worry, I felt about the same when they first accepted me as part of the family," Harry confessed, remembering how much he had been affected by Narcissa riding to his rescue when he was sick at Grimmauld Place. "Still am sometimes," he added, remembering how he had felt when Narcissa had embraced him and kissed his cheek only minutes ago.
"You really are part of this family now, Dudley," Draco replied, bowing his head at his fiancé in agreement with Harry's sentiment. "It's OK. You're OK."
And, to Dudley's surprise, and relief, he really was. With Vernon and Petunia, he had always felt judged by their standards, and expected to follow in Vernon's footsteps. Vernon would have judged his results, his entry to University, and been harshly critical. But here, his results, and his welcome to Harry's family, were like a verdict passed on him; a verdict of freedom. At Privet Drive, he would have been expected to be just like Vernon; at Malfoy Manor, he was free to be himself.
He smiled, a smile that lit up his eyes and, if he but knew it, made his face ten times more handsome than Vernon had ever been, as he lifted his glass again.
"Thank you," he said, from the bottom of his heart. "Here's to us! To being the best that we can!"
The others, having picked up their glasses again, joined in the toast; and, to Dudley's surprise, Lucius saluted him. Not a big action; just a little nod of the head that said that the head of the Malfoy family, of Harry's family now, agreed, accepted him, and wished him the best.
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