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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
- 81
- 82
- 83
Notes:

The time frame of this chapter overlaps the previous one a little; I hope that that does not cause any confusion.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

82 Returning to the Schoolroom
Saturday 10 October 1998
In the event, the Malfoy-Potters did not have a huge housewarming party; Hermione came to visit on the Thursday evening after work and worked out fairly quickly how Harry felt about The Lodge: that this was their own, private space. This only confirmed a suspicion that she had had for a while: that Harry was rather more introverted than people realised, and didn't actually enjoy large parties all that much. Accordingly, she suggested that, rather than a single huge party, they hosted a series of small dinner parties, an idea that Harry leapt at.
Accordingly, the first party was held on the same Saturday that Lucius and Dudley had found the house in Swansea. Draco was rather shocked when Harry suggested the first guest list: rather than his friends, he wanted their parents to come. Which, it appeared, included all of the parental figures he had: Lucius and Narcissa, Arthur and Molly were invited of course, but apparently 'parents' included Peter and Margaret Granger, and Andromeda Tonks as well.
The dinner was a great success; but there was something that Draco couldn't quite put his finger on. Something felt … he couldn't put it into words; but somehow, the fact that his pure-blood parents, the Muggle Grangers and the blood-traitor Weasleys were sitting at the same table, together with the disowned pure-blood Andromeda and his half-blood husband, and getting on so well did strike him as rather hard to believe.
As the two of them lay together in bed that night, Draco pointed out to Harry that it was strange how their friends and family contained all the different permutations; as though differences in magical status were irrelevant.
"Well," Harry pointed out, "I've always thought that they were."
"Fair enough," Draco replied. But he lay there thinking for a while.
It was lovely that what Harry had always felt was becoming the reality; but was it just the way things were going? Or was there something else at work?
Eventually, he fell asleep, convincing himself that he was just being paranoid.

As October rolled along, there seemed to be a strange divide between the group as they went about their daily routines: some seemed to get more excited as time went on, the others more stressed.
On one side, Harry and Ron, having bought all the text books for the Auror course, drilled each other happily for hours on end, and seemed to thrive on it. Robin Banks, who visited Grimmauld Place every now and then, at Kingsley's behest, to make sure that they were alright, sat in on their training several times and offered them a few pointers from his experience of Auror training. He even managed to procure them some practise dummies that the Ministry used for Aurors, telling them that they were doing very well and getting too good to practise on each other. In fact, as he confided to his father, he rather thought that the pair were more advanced than a graduation-level class; their repertoire of spells, and the power they could put behind them, was truly impressive. Viridis Banks had pointed out to him rather drily that this was hardly surprising given that their skills had been honed while fighting for their lives, rather a powerful incentive to do well.
When Ron wasn't training with Harry, he was playing chess with Theo, who was attending Hogwarts about half the time now that his arm was nearly as good as the healers thought it would ever be. He would have been there more often, but he was finding that it really did not like the cold, and the castle was large, cold and draughty; so he would often come back to Grimmauld Place in the afternoons after spending the mornings in classes, and sit by the fire to warm up.
Blaise and Pansy seemed to be equally happy, busy learning all they could at St Mungo's and, as often as not, coming home late, having been invited to go on rounds with the specialists who were secretly rather pleased to have two such enthusiastic students.
But on the other side of the divide, Hermione was finding her pregnancy was hitting her hard again; not with morning sickness, but more with tiredness and feeling weepy a lot of the time. Her mother had ferreted out of her that she was indeed pregnant; Margaret Granger had had her suspicions, and set her lips firm when she heard.
"Are you disappointed in me, Mum?" a teary Hermione asked her, and Margaret's heart melted.
"How could I be?" she asked, swallowing the fact that she had been, a little. Right now, her daughter needed her full support, that was clear. "I'm going to be a grandmother, that's wonderful news, and I think you need your mum, don't you?"
Hermione nodded, smiling through her tears as she realised her mother was on her side.
"Well, you'd better start bringing that young man of yours around regularly for dinner. How do Mondays and Thursdays sound?"
"Wonderful," Hermione admitted.
Also on the stressed side was Draco. The headmistress had agreed that he could undertake his Mastery at Hogwarts, as least for as long as Borage was employed as a Professor there. They dined at the Manor the day that Draco heard this, and Lucius chuckled when he was told.
"How very Slytherin of her," he said.
"How do you mean?" Harry asked, bristling slightly; the divide between houses was still a rather touchy point for him.
"Oh, it's clear that Borage wants to use the Hogwarts facilities," Lucius answered calmly, "and by this arrangement McGonagall gets him to keep teaching there for very little cost, quite a feather in her cap given Borage's international prestige."
Like Harry and Ron, Draco had also been working on his skills, taking advantage of the well-equipped Potions Lab at The Lodge. When he heard that Hermione was finding her pregnancy hard, he started brewing some special pick-me-up potions that were pregnancy-safe, which she appreciated very much.
Saturday 31 October 1998
By the end of October, when Harry and Ron were feeling rather good about their preparation, Draco was rather panicking that he would start with Borage on Monday; indeed, the pick-me-up potions disappeared at quite a rate, as he had started taking them himself, and sharing them with Pansy, who was beginning to find her work load at St Mungo's hard to manage, especially as she was organising a wedding at the same time.
Happily, Pansy and Theo's wedding helped to take his mind off the following Monday a bit; Narcissa had roped him in to help with the decorations, and Pansy had deputised him as a second groomsman to help Blaise perform his best man duties, as the Italian seemed to be quite clueless.
For the Malfoy-Potters, the Parkinson-Nott wedding had a large sense of déjà vu; Theo and Pansy did not have a lot of money, so Narcissa had offered to host their wedding, which took place in the Pavilion at Malfoy Manor in the weak sun and rather chilly wind typical of a late October day. There were all the usual touches: Narcissa and Draco's immaculate and amazing decorations; Molly's wonderful food; Neville's lovely flowers, now in more colours than ever; and the grand finale, the twins' fireworks, finishing off with two silver and green snakes sliding over each other and forming a love-heart in the sky.
When the evening was over, Draco and Harry naturally chose to stay in Draco's room at the Manor, and Draco tried to convince himself that it was just like every other time that he had gone to sleep the night before going back to school. But it wasn't, and he knew it: this time, it wasn't just his parents he was leaving behind. This time, he was married, and he would be returning to Hogwarts without Harry being there full time. He was still feeling rather possessive about Harry, and not at all looking forward to being away from him for days at a time; but he was a Malfoy, he told himself, and he pushed those feelings down hard. Though he did hold on to Harry very tightly in bed that night; though, if the Raven noticed it, he did not comment.
Sunday 1 November 1998
After the cool, dry Saturday, the weather turned, and they woke to find Sunday a cold day, pouring with rain and blowing a gale.
"Good morning, boys," Narcissa said as they entered the breakfast room.
"Lovely day for staying indoors," Lucius commented.
"I'll bet Pansy's glad it wasn't like this yesterday," Draco commented.
"I doubt she'll think about it, given where she is now," Narcissa said.
Harry looked at her, a little amazed. He was used to his mother-in-law keeping tabs on what everyone was up to, but knowing where a non-family couple had gone for their honeymoon was exceptional, even by her standards.
"You know where they went?" he asked.
"Of course, darling," Narcissa replied. "They're in South Africa. Your father organised the travel for them."
"That figures," Draco said. "Theo has family in South Africa."
The conversation went quiet as everyone sat down to breakfast and was distracted by food. Harry had to grin when their breakfast turned out to be stacks of pancakes; he would have liked to feed Draco in their now traditional manner, but he didn't think that would be quite the done thing at the Malfoy breakfast table.
"So, all ready for the return to study?" Lucius asked as he finished eating and drained his cup of tea.
Draco shuddered. "Don't remind me," he replied, "It's going to be a shock to the system."
His voice was light and bright, but Harry could tell it was a forced sentiment. Something was … well, perhaps not wrong, not exactly, but definitely odd, he thought. As he was thinking this, Draco rose to his feet.
"Now, if you will excuse me, I should make sure everything is packed in readiness. Harry, will you be accompanying me?"
"Of course I will," Harry replied. It hadn't taken any particular empathy to hear the apparently off-hand question for the plea that it really was, and Harry's formerly mild concern was tending towards the level of panic that Draco felt. But the rest of the morning was uneventful; Draco seemed happy enough as he looked through his wardrobe critically, discussing whether he really should take more robes, or whether the cerulean blue outfit might be better than the navy one he had settled on earlier; but in the end, when they went down to lunch with Draco's trunk packed, it contained exactly what it had when they had arrived at the Manor the day before.
By invitation, they flooed to the Headmistress's office at three o'clock for afternoon tea. McGonagall looked, to Draco's eyes, as prim and proper and unbending as ever; but Harry, who knew her better, could tell she was actually very glad to see them, if not proud of them. This impression was confirmed when, as they sat on her tartan chairs, she offered them, not cakes or pastries, but a biscuit from the tin she kept on her desk.
Draco chuckled and relaxed a little; he remembered Harry telling him that she only offered people biscuits when she was pleased with them. It seemed that the small ease of tension had not gone unnoticed.
"Now, Mr Malfoy," the headmistress began, "or Lord Consort I should call you, I suppose."
"That would be Lord Consort Malfoy-Potter Goblinfriend, I believe," Draco replied teasingly.
"Just so," the Headmistress agreed, giving him an approving nod. "I confess I had forgotten that the 'Goblinfriend' title was to be yours at marriage, but you can be sure that the Goblins have not, so it will be an excellent idea to insist upon it. They place great store in such things. But I was going to say, you look a little more relaxed than you did when you arrived; I hope that will continue. This is to be your home-away-from-home for quite a while, I suspect, and, as I do for all students, I want you to be happy and safe here. Accordingly, you will of course have the same room in Dumbledore Tower; and Mr, rather Lord, Potter –"
"Malfoy-Potter," Harry added cheekily, getting a stern look from the Headmistress.
"—and Harry," she continued, glaring at him as if daring him to contradict her again, "will be welcome to visit at any time, both as a student while he continues his Muggle Studies assignment, and afterwards."
"Thank you," Draco said. That particular issue had been one of the things concerning him – if Harry managed to get time to do so, it was nice to know that he would be welcome to visit Draco in what was going to be his second home.
"Now," McGonagall continued, "Professor Borage did ask me if you might be allowed to do some teaching to the lower years on his behalf, and that seems an admirable idea to me; are you happy to do so?"
"Ah, well, I don't know about happy," Draco replied, "but yes, I'll certainly have a try. I don't know how good a teacher I'll be."
"Well then," the Headmistress replied, putting down her now empty teacup, "this will be an excellent opportunity to find out, won't it? Now, off you go and get settled in. Professor Borage will be here for dinner, so will no doubt catch up then. Mr Potter - and let's just stick with that," she added, before anyone could make any smart remarks, "teachers always think of their students by the names they had when they first met them - I hope you will join us for dinner?"
"I'd love to," Harry said, as they rose to take leave of the Headmistress for the time being.

Dinner was pleasant enough, and Hogwarts' treacle tart was every bit as good as it always had been; but all too soon, they parted, as Borage took Draco to his office for a chat and discussion for the morning, and Harry returned to Grimmauld Place. Ron had suggested they could go in together from there and Harry had decided that on the whole he would prefer not to stay at The Lodge all on his own, at least not for the first night.
Accordingly, Draco, having kissed his husband farewell at seven o'clock, spent a surprisingly enjoyable three hours discussing the future arrangements with Libatius Borage, who was quite pleasant company one-on-one. They decided, as Harry had a residential week from the ninth to the thirteenth, that Draco might as well get his second residential week done at the same time; Borage explained that the idea was to have him learning several medicinal potions that required near constant supervision for four days solid as otherwise they could explode, or worse, become rather toxic. After that, he would be brewing a series of potions that needed supervision overnight, but they could be spaced out. There were six four-day potions in all, and only three could be brewed together at any one time, so two weeks spent at Hogwarts with the weekend off in between would see Draco able to have every second night away after then if he wished.
Draco went to bed that night with conflicting emotions. At least the panic he had felt the previous day had now evaporated and he was really looking forward to the morning; he could see that working with Borage was going to be very educational, and he got on well with the man, so far at least. But that really didn't touch the deep feeling of loss he had that Harry, his Harry, wasn't there in his bed.
Far away in Grimmauld Place, Harry was feeling similarly bereft. It had been lovely to catch up with Ron and Hermione, even though he was no replacement for Theo (nor for Draco, come to that) as a chess partner for Ron, losing three games on the trot in embarrassingly short order. The two trainee-Aurors-to-be had then tested each other once again on the things they were supposed to know before they began, which brought home to Harry that he really was about to begin to be an Auror, that the dream of his teenage years might actually come true; but as he lay in his bed, he couldn't muster any excitement about it because Draco, his Draco, wasn't there in his bed.
Monday 2 November 1998
By Monday morning, the rain had settled down to a near continuous drizzle. Draco looked out the window as he got up; he couldn't see the Quidditch pitch at all, just grey sky as the water hit the window panes keeping up a steady dull drumming as it did so.
He sighed. The weather, he thought, was almost a perfect representation of his state of mind – grey, boring, just keeping on a steady pace. He went through the motions of his morning routine, but his mind was elsewhere. Truly, he just wanted to find Harry and curl up with him under a blanket and read a book all day.
"You're being pathetic," he told himself. "Since when did the Ice Prince of Slytherin let himself feel so maudlin and self-pitying?"
And, forcing himself into a more definite state of mind, he went down to breakfast, finding somewhat to his chagrin that Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were already there.
"Morning," Dean said, with surprising warmth, Draco thought. "Nice to have you back. Will we see you in classes today?"
"No, I'm afraid not," Draco replied, which was a polite lie – he would be sequestered in a Potions lab by himself for most of the day, he knew perfectly well, so that part was true; but the truth was, he was rather looking forward to being all on his own. He didn't really feel like interacting with anyone else. Well, anyone else who wasn't Harry. "I'll be brewing by myself a lot for the next two weeks."
"Oh," Seamus said, "that's too bad. If you've got time in the evening and want to play exploding snap or something, we're always up for a game."
"Thanks," Draco said with a crooked smile.
He was rather surprised after breakfast when Millicent Bullstrode, who had heard the whole exchange, pulled him aside.
"You can trust them, Draco," she said cryptically. "They've been very good to me over the last few weeks."
Draco looked at her a little skeptically, then realised that of course Millicent had been here, a lone Slytherin amongst the Eighth Years, and he had not thought of her once. It made him feel two inches tall.
"I'm sorry, Millicent," he began, but she cut him off.
"Don't be silly. I understand you and Potter were getting used to being married. It's OK. They looked after me; they'll look after you, too, if you let them."
Draco took a deep breath. "Thanks, Millie," he said, smiling at her, then made his way to the dungeons while she went off to her Charms class.

"Right you lot!" the instructor bellowed at the Auror training class. "Today we welcome two new boys into our midst. I'm sure you'll all give a warm welcome to Mr Potter and Mr Weasley," he said, an evil grin on his face. The class, who were well aware that Ron and Harry had joined them, and were clearly in awe of them, gave a polite round of applause.
"Oh yes, a warm welcome. Especially since they are the reason why we're mixing things up this week. We're going to have two solid days of theory classes, discussing advanced shielding; then there will be a day of testing, to see if I managed to drive anything through your thick skulls. After that, perhaps we'll have two days of practical training, to see if you can actually use the skills you've been taught."
The class groaned, and Harry knew that they were going to be unpopular. But the instructor began writing on the board, and droning on, and Harry dutifully wrote down all that he had to say.

At lunchtime, they sat in the Ministry canteen as a group; Harry was pleased to notice that the other trainees seemed happy enough to sit with them, and there was no overt hostility.
"Is he always this bad?" Harry asked Thomas Parris, one of his new classmates.
Parris snorted. "That was tame," he said. "You'll notice that no-one asked him anything. Our Mr Tachygloss loves the sound of his own voice, and thinks that the sun shines out of his backside. Anyone who challenges him gets cut to ribbons. There are a couple of students who suck up to him all the time: Adam Johnson and Petrus Jufeus; but you've probably worked that out already. They will answer his questions and laugh at his pathetic jokes while the rest of us just sit there, and write down whatever he says, and learn it religiously for his little tests."
"And they're always stinkers – half the things he tests us on, he never even tells us, he just says 'it's in the manual, you should have read up yourself'," another boy chipped in.
Harry sat there fuming. It was bad enough being treated as a child at Hogwarts; he wasn't about to stand for it here. During the rest of the lunch break, he reviewed his notes from the morning, comparing them to the books on Auror-level spells that Robin had lent him. He went back into the classroom an hour later having to keep a very tight hold on his temper; he had realised that pretty much everything he hadn't already known was actually wrong. He'd decided to keep his head down for a little while; but there was no way he wasn't going to have something to say if the man kept prating nonsense.

The afternoon's class lasted just half an hour before Harry had to step in. Their instructor had decided that they needed a refresher on the theory of shield charms, and insisted on teaching them as though they knew nothing at all. It was bad enough when he had his simpering toadies performing a Protego, pointing out to everyone how the wand movement was to be just so, and the incantation had to be precise; but then he decided to go one better.
"Of course, there is the more powerful Protego Maxima," he said, in a condescending tone that Umbridge would have been proud of, "we shall discuss the theory; though I'm sure that will be entirely beyond you – it takes years of practise and a good deal of power to cast one."
Harry put his hand up.
"Do you think you can cast one, Mr Potter?" the man asked, his tone sneering.
"Half the eighth year students at Hogwarts can cast one," Harry replied, making it clear that this was no big deal to him. "I should know; I taught it to them. I can even do it wordlessly and wandlessly."
"Nonsense!" the man said sharply. "A Protego Maxima is far too complex to be cast wand–"
But he broke off; for the whole class, save for the instructor and his two toadies, had suddenly been encased in a solid green light.
"I'm sorry," Harry said, his tone making it clear he was not sorry at all, "did you say something?"
"Bah!" the man said. "It's a cheap trick. It must be!"
"Try it," Harry said nonchalantly.
"All right," Tachygloss said with an evil smirk as he raised his voice.
"STUPEFY!" he shouted, putting a lot of power into the spell.
Rather too much power, really. Because lesser curses simply bounce off a Protego Maxima. the instructor and his two acolytes spent the rest of the afternoon in the infirmary, recovering from the sheer force he had imbued the spell with; while the other students had a very pleasant afternoon learning all about shields from Harry and Ron. By the end of the afternoon, all of the students could cast a strong Protego, and most were well on the way to a good Protego Maxima.

The next day's training was a little better; Harry learnt later from Robin that Tachygloss had been taken aside by some of his colleagues who thought it was a great joke that he had been bested by a student. He was, of course, fuming because of it; but it had been explained to him very clearly that Harry Potter was pretty much untouchable; pretty much literally so when it came to shield charms, given that the Haussmann shield was known to boost all other shield casting as well. So Harry was left alone; and the instructor showed that, when he wasn't being a sarcastic bastard, he could actually manage to teach with some competency.
The following day, though, he walked into the class with an evil grin on his face.
"Test time!" he said.
There was a general groan, and Harry could see why as Tachygloss passed out test papers that were half an inch thick each.
"You have three hours," he announced once everyone had a paper in front of them. He then smirked at Harry and Ron, saying quietly, "you two will probably need every minute."
An hour and a half later, Harry was bored. He had, after all, really earned his Mastery grade; there was nothing in the syllabus that he didn't know, and he was able to answer every question without even really thinking about it. Accordingly, he got up and walked to the astonished instructor at the front.
Tachygloss narrowed his eyes at him, then smiled.
"Defeated you, have I?" he asked.
"Yeah, something like that," Harry answered. He really wasn't interested in an argument right now.
"Perhaps you'll think twice about coming into my class trading on your reputation, Potter," Tachygloss replied.
Harry held his tongue and left the classroom. He felt strangely bereft; it had only got worse since Sunday evening. He had promised himself that he wouldn't interrupt Draco; but his resolve was definitely wavering. As he had a couple of hours to himself, his feet took him to the Head Auror's office; he had been told to drop by if he needed anything, and right now he rather thought he did.
"Something you want, Trainee Potter?" Gawain asked him.
"I was hoping for permission to floo to Hogwarts to visit my husband," Harry answered.
Gawain gave him a grin. "Finished your exam early then?"
Harry nodded.
"I'm not surprised," the other man answered. "He's a pompous windbag is Emmet, but he does actually know a thing or two if he can only get over being too old to be in the field. Anyway, of course, the Floo is yours."
"Thank you, sir," Harry replied, and meant it.

Draco was in the library, researching fungi useful for potions in the Restricted Section, to which he now had unrestricted access. Harry entered quietly, Madam Pince the librarian having decided that she could hardly keep him out if Draco was allowed in. He watched his husband fossicking amongst the shelves for a couple of minutes, transfixed by the beauty that was Draco Malfoy. It is said that distance makes the heart grow fonder; certainly, the few days spent without him brought home forcefully to Harry just how much he loved this man, how much he needed him, how lucky he was to have him in his life.
Draco must have sensed his presence; for he suddenly whirled around, wand drawn, face pinched. And then he saw who it was, and his face relaxed into a grin as he raced into Harry's arms, wand and books forgotten.
"Miss me, much?" Harry asked.
"You can talk, Potter," Draco replied. "After all, you're the one skiving off. Aren't you supposed to be having a test or something?"
"Yeah," Harry said, "but I finished it in half the time, so I thought I'd come and see you. Unless, of course, you're too busy."
Draco blew him a raspberry.
"Actually," he rejoined with a small smile, "you can help."

Emmet Tachygloss picked up Harry's exam paper. All the other students were busy scribbling away, and he had an anti-cheating spell set, so he didn't really need to be there at all; but the regulations required it, so there he was, bored out of his mind. So, he decided, he might as well see what rubbish Potter had written. It would be a good pointer to what he taught them this afternoon.
Forty minutes later, Tachygloss was feeling distinctly ill. Like a few of the older, more cynical Aurors, he had assumed that Potter was going to prove to be a five-minute-famous flash-in-the-pan, trading on his reputation, without any real understanding of what he was doing. He had felt that Potter defeating Voldemort was more luck than anything else. But looking at the paper in front of him, he could no longer believe that. The answers given here were text-book answers; better, even, because they were so succinct and to the point in each case. There were some of the questions where he disagreed with what Potter had said; but the lad had argued his case rather cogently, and Tachygloss was coming around to the different point of view. After all, the lad had demonstrated that he was wrong about wandless shield charms; what else did he believe simply because he had been taught it, without any proof?

Harry had assumed that 'help' would involve some form of research; he was a little miffed when Draco had him carry the large pile of books he had borrowed down to the potions lab he was using, and then over the next got him to stir the three separate cauldrons that were brewing there.
"Hang on," Harry said, "if you can brew them together, why do you need more than one four-day stint in the lab?"
"Because some of the potions react badly with each other," Draco said in that patient voice that primary school teachers use with their students. "Trust me, Borage and I do know what we are doing."
It was Harry's turn to blow a raspberry.
Draco smirked in reply, then consulted the Muggle watch that Hermione had given him for an engagement present. He had, of course, made a huge fuss about his disdain for all things Muggle when she had given it to him; but Harry had noticed he was seldom without it now.
"I'm free for an hour now, and it's time for lunch. Would you like to join us?"
"Of course," Harry replied. "Then after that I'd probably better get back to class."

By the time Harry returned to the Ministry, it was just coming up to the end of the trainees' lunch break. They trooped back into class, wondering what the afternoon would hold. Their instructor came in five minutes later, holding the pile of exam papers that he had collected two hours before.
"Right! Your papers have all been marked and I'll give you a few minutes to review them," he said, as he waved his wand and the papers flew off at high speed, each one landing in front of the correct student. "After that, we'll be having a revision session, which will focus on locator charms and immobilisation techniques. I'm happy to say that you all seem to have grasped shield charms well enough. The next two days will see us practising these spells in a controlled environment. Oh, and the following students did so well they're not going to learn much this afternoon, so are excused to go and have self-study in the library: …" and here, five students were named, starting, to Harry's delight, with 'Harry Potter' and 'Ron Weasley'. It seemed that the new boys were up to the mark, after all. The five named got up and left for the library; and Harry allowed himself a little internal smirk as he saw the crestfallen expressions on the two sycophants, Adam Johnson and Petrus Jufeus, neither of whom had been named.
"You two skiving off?" a familiar voice asked as they headed to the library, and they turned to see Robin Banks smiling at them.
"Nah," Ron said with a grin, "we had an exam this morning and we got sent to the library because we did well enough not to need a revision session."
"Good," said Robin. "I have a Defense class for the Hogwarts Seventh and Eighth Years, and Professor Merrythought sent me to get some helpers from the Auror class; as you can see," he continued, showing them a parchment, "the Head Auror has signed off on it, and if you two aren't busy, and don't mind, I'm sure we'd be delighted to have you."
"Sure," they said in unison, both grinning. It wasn't much contest, after all; spend the afternoon studying quietly by themselves in the library, or actually get to have some fun with the Hogwarts students?
Which is how they came to catch up with Dean and Seamus and got to demonstrate (and practise) their shields and immobilisation techniques rather than an afternoon of boredom. Draco was over the moon when he found that Harry was at Hogwarts for dinner as well as lunch; and Borage, who had noticed that his apprentice was missing his husband, went as far as to offer to look after his potions for the evening, so that the two could spend time together uninterrupted; an opportunity that the two made the most of.
Friday 6 November 1998
After Wednesday's excitement, Harry found Thursday very difficult; instead of the lecture room, they were taken to a training room and given a very boring talk explaining what was going on. Today they were to be practising shields; so they would be allowed to send low-level spells at one another, tickling charms and the like, to see if they could shield themselves adequately. Harry could hardly concentrate as they were then drilled once again on the various shields they were supposed to know. Not that he really needed to; after months on the run, protecting himself was purely reflexive by now.
About an hour in to the day, he discovered something extremely useful. He had a momentary lapse of attention; when one of the other students had cast a stinging hex at him, he had easily cast a Protego, but the relaxed for a moment. In that moment of inattention he learnt that the Haussmann Shield, which he and Draco had found out at Hogwarts would protect them over a distance of a few hundred yards, was now effective over a much greater distance: Petrus Jufeus had thrown a Stupefy at him when he wasn't looking, and the Shield sprang up around him in green-and-silver swirls. He had to look closely before he could see that the red was still there; but only a tiny sliver now, and the green and silver seemed to twirl around each other much more tightly. He wondered, briefly, what that could mean; but he was brought back to the present by the sound of his classmates applauding. He looked around to see why, and grinned; apparently the Shield had reflected the Stupefy, because Jufeus was now lying comatose on the floor.
This pretty much ended any interest the day held for Harry; no-one was prepared to go up against him with such a formidable weapon in his arsenal. He asked if he could help out, but Tachygloss wouldn't let him, telling him to sit on the sidelines and watch. Which was an exercise in frustration: he longed to correct the stances and castings of his classmates, he could see that with a very little help they would be much more effective.
"Think you know everything, don't you, Potter?" a snide voice said, and Harry looked around. Jufeus. Great. It seemed that the Stupefy must have worn off Jufeus.
"No," Harry replied, "I'd be a fool to think that. But I do know a lot about shields."
"Pfft," the other answered, as though shields were unimportant. "Anyway, we'll see how good you are tomorrow at offensive spells. I've been doing a bit of training, I reckon I'll show you up."
"Knock yourself out," Harry replied equably. "After all, you've shown you're good at that, today."
So when Friday rolled around, it really came as no surprise that Harry really wasn't very interested in the proceedings.
"Gather round you lot!" Tachygloss said in his portentous way. "Today we are testing immobilisation spells, so of course the Ministry will not allow you to practise on each other. Something about being too dangerous. Mind you, the people we come up against are not so considerate. Anyway, we have some special dummies that we use for you to fire spells at. So here's the deal: until you immobilised them, the dummies fire out coloured, fake spells of their own, which will mark you if they hit you. The spells are different colours; yellow represents a painful spell, orange an incapacitating one, and red a life-threatening one. They will come in that order. Then of course there's the green one, which represents …"
He stood there and waited to see if anyone got it; when it was obvious that no-one did, Harry called out in a bored voice,
"… the Avada Kedavra spell."
"Quite right, Mr Potter," the instructor replied, sounding not best pleased that it was Harry, rather than Jufeus or Johnson, who had got the answer right. "So of course the challenge is to stop them without getting hit. You can use any of the immobilising spells that we discussed on Tuesday, or reasonable variants. Also, for today, we're not interested in your shielding, so a hit to a shield will count as a hit to you. I expect you all to incapacitate the dummy before being hit with the green spell. Has everyone got that?"
It all seemed rather pointless to Harry; he had, after all, been in the situation where he was fighting against real people firing real spells. Usually starting with the killing curse, no mucking around with this yellow, orange, red rubbish. Tachygloss must have noticed his disinterest; for as soon as everyone nodded to indicate that they had followed his explanation, the instructor continued.
"Good. Now, let's see what you're made of. Potter, you're up first. To make things interesting, we'll put you in pairs; Jufeus will pair off with you just to show you how it's done."
Show me up, more likely, Harry thought, but he squared up to the dummy nonetheless.
"Go!" Tachygloss called out, and Jufeus immediately started firing out spells at his dummy, yelling out "Immobilus!" and "Petrificus Totalis!" at the top of his lungs. He managed to incapacitate the dummy with only a yellow spell hitting him; he knew that historically most students would get a red hit, so he was pleased with that.
Pleased, that is, until he looked at Potter. The man was standing there, his wand not even raised, and Petrus realised he hadn't heard him say a word. There wasn't a mark on him, not even a bead of sweat; but the dummy at the other end was smothered in the green ropes produced by the Incarcerus spell.
"Very good, Mr Potter!" a voice called out, and the students looked around to see Gawain Robarts stride into the practise room. "I don't remember any student getting through this test entirely unscathed before. And using nonverbal spells is particularly good – can you tell us why?"
"If there's a real enemy, and they don't hear the incantation, they don't know what the spell is until they see the wand work and the spell colour," Harry replied. "And as I cast wandlessly, they would only have the colour to go by."
"Just so," Robarts replied. "Very impressive, Mr Potter. There's really no point in you being here for the other tests; take the rest of the day off."
"Thank you, sir," Harry replied calmly, though inside he was full of glee. Especially as he could see that Tachygloss was particularly annoyed by this; but he could hardly gainsay the Head Auror.

While he would have liked to have lunch with Draco, there were still some of the Parseltongue books that Lucius had unearthed that he hadn't read. They were waiting for him at The Lodge, so he Flooed there first, spending a couple of hours trying to follow up some vague hints about men getting pregnant that he had found. It was very frustrating – there were some tantalising hints that seemed to fit with the bond caused by a Haussmann Shield, which would have been interesting to learn about; but the knowledge trail seemed to just peter out. It was almost, he was beginning to think, as though someone was trying to keep the lid on a big secret. The question was, was this secrecy a general thing, or was there some attempt being made to keep him in the dark?
Eventually he dismissed these thoughts as mere paranoia. Ron Floo-called him to say that he too had been excused classes, having managed to avoid being marked, and Harry readily agreed to join him at Grimmauld Place for lunch.
Kreacher was delighted to see him, and produced a very pleasant steak and kidney pudding for them, followed by treacle tart in honour of Master Harry being there. Harry was very pleased at this; Kreacher radiated a simple joy that gave him goosebumps to think of how bad their relationship had been, and how far it had come.
The two trainees were lounging in the drawing room after lunch, trying to summon up the energy to do something, when the Floo roared to life. They had not been expecting anyone; and it was a credit to their training and reflexes that both of them were standing up, wands drawn, when the visitor stepped through the fireplace.
"Pansy!" Harry shouted joyfully when he saw who it was. "Lovely to see you! But, why are you here? And where is Theo?"
"Calm down," the witch admonished him, but she was smiling. "It's good to know you care. Theo is quite well; very well, in fact, and that's why I'm here."
"What?" Ron asked, confused.
Pansy sighed. "It's a bit of a story. But I can't be gone long, so we'll have to be quick. Is Draco here?"
"I'm afraid not," Harry replied. "He's at Hogwarts; he has to be there all the time this week because he has to brew some potions that need a lot of looking after."
"Bugger," Pansy said, "of course he does. I'd forgotten about that."
"Can I help?" Harry asked.
Pansy looked at him appraisingly, and Harry wondered just what it was that she would talk to Draco about but hesitate with him. But then, they hadn't always got on as well as they did now, he mused, and Pansy and Draco had been friends for a long time.
In the end, he must have passed muster, because Pansy signed for them to sit down, and launched into an explanation.
"As you may have heard," she said, a little knowingly, "we are honeymooning in South Africa. It's a warm, dry climate, which is doing wonders for Theo's arm – it's visibly better than it was when we left; he's got family there, who have welcomed us with open arms; and there's an apothecary there who has offered him a job, He can even study while he's working, and get his NEWTs and everything."
"Wow," Harry said. "So, you're thinking of emigrating?"
"We are," Pansy replied. "And the thing is that yesterday we learnt that a property has come onto the market right in the middle of where Theo's relatives live. They've all said they'll club together and help us buy it; but I can tell Theo isn't really comfortable with that, so I came here to see if Draco would be prepared to loan us the money."
"I see," said Harry carefully. "Does Theo know you're doing this?"
"No," Pansy replied, "that's why I have to be quick. And we have to move fast on the property – we were told about it because of Theo's family, it will be advertised for sale to the public from tomorrow, and they think it will be snapped up as it's a lovely house at a great price."
"Hmm," Harry said. "Do you mind if I come and have a look?"
Pansy looked at him, a little stunned. "Erm, not to be rude or anything, but why would you want to do that? No, never mind, that is rude, isn't it. Of course you can."
And with that, she stood up, threw a pinch of powder into the Floo, and called out the address. A moment later, the pair of them emerged into the office of the real estate agent who was dealing with the property.
"Ah! Mrs Nott!" the man said, beaming at her. "And is this Mr Malfoy?"
"Potter-Malfoy," Harry replied, holding out his hand. "Harry Malfoy-Potter. Delighted to meet you."
The man looked at him, spotted the famous scar, and spluttered out, "Harry Malfoy-Potter? As in, theHarry Potter?"
"Yes indeed," Harry agreed, rather ruing the fact that his fame seemed to stretch even this far. "I was hoping we could take a look at this property?"
"Of course! Of course!" the man said. "I am at your disposal! Shall we go right now?"
"Please," Pansy replied.
Twenty minutes later they returned to the office. Harry was bowled over by the property – "lovely" didn't begin to describe a five-bedroom house in immaculate condition, complete with swimming pool, tennis court and sauna. And the price was certainly good: about half what he had expected it to be. Accordingly, he asked the agent to draw up a contract of sale, subject to survey, and signed it once he had read it and was convinced all was in order. For his part, the agent was delighted; even more so fifteen minutes later when the banker's draft Harry signed against his account in Gringotts had been accepted by their South African branch.
At this point, Theo walked in; he had been off having his arm treated and had been a little worried when he had returned to their hotel to find that Pansy wasn't there. He saw Harry, and his eyebrows marched up his head.
"Potter?" he said quizzically. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"
Harry smiled. "Hello Theo," he said. "Your arm is looking a lot more relaxed than before – South Africa really is good for you."
Theo frowned, then looked at his wife. "What have you been up to?" he asked.
"Pansy came to see if Draco would lend the money for the house," Harry said.
Pansy hissed at him.
"Oops, obviously that was supposed to be a secret," he said, entirely unrepentantly. The agent's clerk handed him a file containing the paperwork for the property. "But it didn't work, anyway. Draco wasn't there. So, no loan."
Pansy looked flabbergasted. "So –" she began, but had no idea what to say.
Harry handed Theo the folder. "I don't lend money to friends," he said calmly. "This is your wedding present."
Theo and Pansy didn't know whether it was the generosity of the gift, or the fact that Harry called them friends, but they both found their eyes becoming very moist indeed …

Harry was feeling rather fearful that evening when he got to Hogwarts to dine with Draco. It was all very well being so generous, but what if Draco had wanted a say in Pansy's wedding present? Or wanted to look at the house before they bought it? Or thought it was too extravagant?
His nerves must have been more obvious than he thought; for when he arrived at Borage's office, Draco took one look at him, raced over, and pulled him into a hug.
"What's wrong, love?" he asked, and the concern in his voice nearly floored Harry.
"I think you'd better sit down, Mr Potter," Borage said, and led them both to a rather comfortable sofa. "I'll see about getting some tea," he said, and tactfully disappeared.
But the two men didn't really hear him – Draco had his attention fixed on Harry, who was looking down at the floor as he tried to get himself together. It didn't help that he was feeling incredibly relieved to be back with Draco; he berated himself for feeling the lack as keenly has he did, after all he'd only been away from him for two days.
"Pansy stopped by today," he said, eventually.
"Pansy?" Draco asked, stiffening. "Stopped by where? And how come you were there? Shouldn't you have been at your testing? And why did she come? Is there a problem? Is Theo alright? Is it the baby?"
Harry looked at him, horrified as he realised how much he was freaking Draco out just because of his own pathetic insecurities. He smiled at his husband.
"No, no, Dragon, everything is fine. I did so well on the test that Gawain Robarts sent me home before lunch, and Ron at lunchtime, so we had lunch together at Grimmauld Place. Then Pansy turned up, looking for you. They're having a wonderful time in South Africa; so wonderful, in fact, that Theo's arm is much better after five days, and they feel so settled that they've decided to emigrate."
"Wow," Draco said, trying to imagine life without Pansy being around. "That all sounds wonderful. So why are you looking so bothered?"
"Well, she came to see if you'd lend them money to buy a house. And I sort of … boughtitforthemasaweddingpresent," Harry said, all in a rush.
"Slow down," Draco said, and then he caught up with what Harry had said. "Hang on, did you say that you bought it for them as a wedding present?"
Harry nodded, swallowing hard as he wondered just how Draco would react.
"And you were worried about how I'd take it, is that it?"
Again Harry nodded, not trusting his voice.
Draco laughed: a real proper belly-laugh as he pulled Harry back into a tight embrace.
"You silly man," he said, his tone rich with humour, "I think that's wonderful. Thank you."
"Oh," Harry said, brightening. "I thought you might think it was stupid, or extravagant, or that you should have seen it or …"
"Hush," Draco said. "I'm really pleased. Now, never mind tea, let's go and get some dinner."

After they had dined, Borage came over to chat with them, and made it clear that, while Potions Masters would commonly expect their apprentices to give up weekends at the drop of a hat, he had no intention of doing any such thing, and that, as Draco had brewed everything perfectly and cleaned the lab thoroughly, he did not expect to see him again until Monday morning, especially as Harry would be on his Auror boot camp the following week and they probably wouldn't see one another.
"Don't forget that you're teaching on Tuesday, though," he said, as he took his leave of the couple.
"Really?" Harry asked as the Potions Master walked away. "So you're going to be Professor Malfoy-Potter?"
"Hardly," Draco said, amused but trying hard not to show it. "I'm really just the teacher's assistant anyway. So, what do you know about this week? What are you going to be doing?"
"Tell you what," Harry replied, "let's go home and I'll fill you in."

The weekend was very pleasant, but far too short: Draco felt the time sped by just to spite him, especially as both the Weasleys and his parents insisted on seeing them for Saturday dinner and Sunday lunch respectively. Monday morning rolled around, and Draco found himself brewing potions for the Infirmary. Not that he minded that so much; it was just the thought that he wasn't going to see Harry for another five days that had him feeling down.
On the bright side, it did give him a chance to replenish his own stocks of the pregnancy-safe pick-me-up potion that he was still brewing for Hermione – she seemed to get through them at a tidy rate, and he was still using them himself, so there was plenty of demand for them.
By agreement with Professor McGonagall, Draco was helping with the Third Year Potions class on Tuesday afternoon. Today, Borage had decided that they were to brew the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. As the ingredients were rather volatile, particularly billywig stings, Borage and Draco entered the classroom together before the class and put up some protective warding.
Once this was done, Professor Borage cast an information spell to check that all was in readiness, which produced a piece of parchment. He snatched it out of the air, and read it, his eyebrows rising.
"Mr Malfoy," he said, his voice calm.
"Yes, sir?" Draco replied. "Is something wrong?"
"No, no," Borage said, placing the parchment into an envelope and sealing it. "I just need you to take this to Madame Pomfrey, please. It will warn her of the possible outcomes of this class."
"Of course, sir," Draco said, accepting the envelope that was held out to him, and heading off to the Infirmary. He was mildly surprised that Borage had not sent a house-elf; but he knew perfectly well that, as an apprentice, he could be called upon to do any menial task, and delivering a letter was hardly a hardship.
When he arrived at the Infirmary, the Medi-witch was nowhere to be seen; for once, there were no students about. He knocked on her office door.
"Come in!" Madam Pomfrey sang out, and Draco did so.
"Oh, Mr Malfoy-Potter, how can I help you? Not sick, I hope, after all those fumes and hours in the darkness?"
Draco chuckled. Her voice sounded entirely sincere, and it was nice that she cared about him.
"No, no, it's just that Professor Borage asked me to give you this," he said, handing over the envelope.
"Oh," Poppy said. "Just take a seat while I read it in case he needs a reply, then," she said, smiling at him as she opened the envelope.
The smile faded a little as she read what was written on the parchment inside.
"I see," she said. "Well. There's no reply just for the moment; but while you're here, Mr Malfoy-Potter, it occurs to me that you're overdue for a checkup. Come along and sit on a bed, it won't take a minute."
Protesting that he was in perfect health, Draco was nonetheless bundled rather efficiently onto a bed, and Poppy proceeded to conduct her scan.
"In perfect health, you say?" she said, as she perused the parchment that her scan had produced. "Then why, may I ask, are you taking pick-me-up potions?"
"Oh!" Draco said, realising that of course the scan would pick that up. "I've been feeling rather stressed, and they've been helping. And I've really been missing Harry for the last week, I just want him here holding me; so I've had to up the dose. But it's still below any addiction levels; nothing to worry about."
"I'll be the judge of that," the medi-witch replied. "Just stay there a moment, I need to discuss something with a colleague."
Draco huffed as Madam Pomfrey went back into her office and emerged a couple of minutes later with Professor Borage.
"Sir?" Draco asked, confused. "Shouldn't you be teaching?"
"I think this is a little more important than classes," Borage replied with a twinkle in his eye.
"What is?" Draco asked, feeling lost. "What's going on? What are you hiding from me?"
"Well, Mr Malfoy-Potter," Madam Pomfrey replied, "the spell Professor Borage cast over the classroom was designed to check that, amongst other things, none of the students was pregnant, as the fumes from the
Antidote to Uncommon Poisons are mildly toxic, so we prefer to take precautions."
"You mean –" Draco said, and stopped.
"The scan showed that you are pregnant," Borage replied, bluntly.
"Which is no doubt why you've felt a little clingy, it's a common symptom. I can tell you that all is well, and that it's …"
But Madam Pomfrey did not complete her sentence. There was no point; for Draco Malfoy, the unflappable Ice Prince of Slytherin, had fainted.

Notes:

Grateful thanks as always to the wonderful Bicky Monster for helpful suggestions.
Other locations: See my profile for details about facebook. The story is also now available on AFF should anyone prefer that site.
Thanks: To all who are reading! It gives me a lovely warm feeling that you're interested. And double thanks and chocolate chip cookies to all who review.
Review replies at http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/56042-review-replies-for-returning-to-sanity/ .
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Returning to Sanity