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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
- 82
- 83
- 84
83 Returning to Unexpected Places
Sunday 8 November
The door to his office was flung open with such force that it slammed into the wall and bounced back into the room, almost hitting the woman who had burst into the room behind it.
"Rita, what's the matter?" Barnabus Cuffe asked as he rose from his seat, his tone placating. He had never seen Rita Skeeter so livid; he might be twice her size, but the woman had a temper like nothing else when she was riled.
"This!" she replied, slamming a newspaper onto his desk. He picked it up idly. It was a courtesy print of this month's Quibbler, which would go on sale in about … he consulted his watch … three minutes. He picked it up and noticed at once that there was a new picture of Harry Potter on the front page, sitting smiling with Draco Malfoy. It turned his stomach. He didn't care what anyone said, Potter was a royal pain in the arse while the blond was from Death-Eater stock and should be hung out to dry, not feted by the cream of society.
He began to read.

The Quibbler – November Edition
ANNOUNCING: LORD HARRY MALFOY-POTTER and LORD CONSORT DRACO MALFOY-POTTER!
This paper is now able to announce exclusively that, in recognition of Harry Potter's outstanding efforts in twice destroying Voldemort during both of the Wizarding Wars, the Wizengamot, together with the Ministry for Magic, has revived the Ancient and Noble Title of the Lord Potter. This title was last held by our hero's grandfather, Lord Charlus Potter, but went into abeyance as Harry's father died before it could be vested at the required age of twenty-five.
Additionally, this age requirement has been waived especially so that Harry James Potter, who has already been awarded the prestigious titles of Dragon-rider and Goblinfriend by the Goblin Nation, and has chosen to share his husband's surname, can inherit immediately.
Accordingly, Harry Potter is now officially styled Harry James Malfoy-Potter, the Lord Potter, Dragon-rider, Goblin-friend, Destroyer of Voldemort. Draco Malfoy, who married Lord Potter in September, is thereby entitled to the titles of Lord Consort of the House of Potter, as well as Heir to the Lord Malfoy, and Goblin-friend, as the Goblin Nation has confirmed its proclamation that the latter title is to be shared with the recipient's spouse.
This title is not merely a new burden for Lord Potter's business card; the Ministry has confirmed to this newspaper that it entitles him to one of the hereditary seats on the Wizengamot, a seat which Lord Potter can take up at any time.
We are sure that all our readers will want to join us in wishing the new Lords well. We look forward to Lord Potter, who has already been instrumental in framing the Potter Code, a major change to our legal framework that has helped our society heal in this difficult post-War time, taking an active role on the Wizengamot.

Cuffe looked up. "Merlin, that's awful prose!" he complained. "So stodgy and hard to read! Old Xenophilius always did write turgid copy. But what exactly has got your knickers in a twist? Being scooped? Is that it?"
Skeeter looked at him, her eyes hard.
"Read the interview," she said.
He looked back at the paper to see that, indeed, the front page announced an interview with Lord Potter on page three. He turned to the interview and started to read.

Lord Potter speaks to the Quibbler.
By Luna Lovegood.

And all at once, Cuffe understood.
It was an exclusive interview.
With Harry Potter.
In the Quibbler.
By his schoolmate, Luna Lovegood.
So, NOT published in the Prophet.
And NOT 'by Rita Skeeter'.
He grinned at her. Not a nice grin; a feral grin, celebrating the fact that, while he was hurt that the Prophet had been scooped, perhaps Skeeter too might be getting her comeuppance.
He read on. There was a lot of guff; but Cuffe didn't really care what the Malfoy-Potters had done on their honeymoon, nor what life was like afterwards. He didn't mind writing trashy gossip pieces, they sold newspapers after all, but he drew the line at reading them. And then he found it.

LL: Tell me, Lord Potter, I'm sure our readers would like to know why you offered this exclusive to The Quibbler, when most of the time you've published in the Daily Prophet? And most interviews are with Rita Skeeter, who has a much-vaunted 'special relationship' with you?
LP: Please, Luna, it's 'Harry'! And as for 'special', well, that doesn't necessarily mean 'good'. And The Prophet tends to work at a frantic pace, so perhaps the things they publish aren't as well-polished as they might be. With this announcement, the Ministry wanted the message to be very clear, and they felt this was the better paper to publish it in. And I think I agree. And, as a bonus, I get to talk to you, which is, as always, a pleasure!
LL: (chuckles) Thank you, Harry.

And here, rather abruptly, the interview ended.
Cuffe swore, loudly and profusely. Oh, the interview was polite enough, and nothing had been said that he could call Potter out on; but the meaning was clear – the Prophet, Potter was saying, is a sensationalist rag, and Skeeter an annoying hack. The worse of it, of course, was that it was pretty much the truth.
He looked back at Skeeter.
"Well, what are you doing still here?" he growled at her. "It's obvious you're not getting exclusives any more, so go and put some work into the gossip pages where you belong!"
I should have known better, Rita though; but she was so stung by the sudden attack from the man she had assumed would take her side that she simply turned tail and left, returning to the department where she had started out as a budding, ambitious journalist all those years ago.
And spent the rest of her career working on the Social Pages of the Daily Prophet, dreaming of what might have been.

Unfortunately, after their too-short weekend, Harry was unable to dine at Hogwarts: he and Ron had to be at the Ministry at six o'clock for a briefing about their week away. As Draco had potions to start, and wanted to get an early start if he could, they parted in Draco's lab in the Hogwarts dungeon just before half past four o'clock, and Harry Flooed to Grimmauld Place.
When he got there, he found Ron racing about fetching things.
"What's the matter?" he asked. "I thought we just had to turn up, everything would be provided for us."
Ron gave him a look that said 'yeah, right'.
"Doesn't it make you suspicious?" the red-head asked.
"Doesn't what make me suspicious?" Harry asked back.
"The timing," Ron replied. "It does me - very suspicious." Seeing Harry's rather dumbfounded look, he continued, "see, I've lived with my father, and I know very well from years of his bitching about his co-workers that practically no-one in the Ministry works outside the hours of Monday to Friday, eight till six."
"Ah," said Harry, comprehension beginning to dawn.
"Yeah. So if Tachygloss is making us turn up on a Sunday evening, he has some hideous scheme in mind. And I'd rather be as prepared as I can for whatever it is."
"All right," Harry replied, "let's take the tent."
Ron stared at him.
"You know, just in case," Harry said nervously. Ron was staring at him with a look in his eyes that made Harry think that maybe this wasn't one of his better ideas.
"Mate," Ron said, and for a moment Harry expected to be chewed out; then the red-head broke into a smile. "That's brilliant!" Sticking his head out of the drawing-room door, he called up the stairs, "Hermione!"
"Yes?" she called back.
"Can we borrow your bag? And the tent?"
Hermione made a sort of hmphing noise, then there was some stomping around on the floorboards before she came down into the drawing room, holding the requested bag.
"Why?" she asked, and they explained their thoughts to her.
"That's actually a pretty good idea," she said. "I can just see the Ministry trying to make you sleep rough or something. Do you remember all the ward charms we used? It might be a good idea not to let on that you have the tent."
"Er," Harry said, "maybe we could have a refresher?"
An hour later, after a lot of practice on warding and a very quick meal, they Flooed to the Auror training area of the Ministry.

"Right!" Tachygloss said, and there was no mistaking the nasty grin on his face, "this is your home for the next week. Make yourselves comfortable!"
Several of the trainees went white, and almost fainted. Adam Johnson did actually faint, after he had thrown up.
"Where are we supposed to sleep?" someone asked.
"Wherever you like," Tachygloss answered, and there was no mistaking the dark humour in his tone. "Welcome to Boot Camp, Auror style."
They had been taken by side-along Apparition to an 'undisclosed location', which turned out to be a large expanse of wooded land. It was, of course, pitch black; the sun had set at about half past four, and the moon wouldn't rise until half past eight or then abouts. Happily, the Aurors present, Emmet Tachygloss and Tom Godwin, had cast fairly powerful Lumos charms over the glade they were in, so they could see pretty well. He wondered idly what any Muggles would think; but no doubt the Ministry had that all sorted out.
He looked around him. There were no buildings; just piles of canvas and rope, clearly intended for them to construct rude shelter with. There was also plenty of soft heather, and trees that you could sling ropes from; really, with these materials you could set yourself up quite comfortably if you had to.
Not, of course, that he had any intention of doing so. He and Ron scouted around and quickly found the perfect spot to pitch their tent. It was a quiet, out-of-the-way corner that no-one was likely to stumble upon; especially after they had cast the Notice-Me-Not charms and the wards that Hermione had drilled them on.
They were a little out of practice, having not really expected to return to living under canvas; but nonetheless, an hour later the tent was up and they had settled in. Hermione had made sure it was well-provisioned with both tinned goods and fresh food under very long-lasting preservation charms, and Harry was not the least bit surprised when Ron suggested a spot of supper; by which he meant a full meal, rather than say biscuits and cocoa. Harry found, to his surprise, that he had quite an appetite now that they were in the outdoors, and managed to keep up with Ron. By eight o'clock they had consumed vast plates of bacon and eggs, and were ready to see how the rest of their cohort was faring.
They left their little spot, taking care to do so such that no-one else would see them emerge; there was no point in going to the trouble of concealing their tent if they let the secret out by suddenly appearing in front of someone. Of course, they were not worried about the snatchers, like they had been while hunting horcruxes; but stealth was a good Auror skill, and this was a good opportunity to practise it.
But they needn't have worried. Everyone else was far too busy grumbling about the lack of accommodation to pay them any mind. Ron pointed over to Thomas Parris, one of the few people who seemed to be making a genuine attempt to sort something out, and Harry nodded in agreement. They both liked the young trainee; Harry found him easy to talk to, while Ron both liked his straightforward manner and appreciated that he was one of the few people he had ever met whose hair was redder than his own.
"Like a hand, Thomas?" Harry asked as he walked over to the young man, who span around rather nervously on being addressed.
"Oh!" Parris replied, "it's you, Harry. Um, yeah, if you've finished making your bed space, that would be great."
Harry looked around. No-one was paying them any mind. He looked over at Ron and raised an eyebrow inquiringly. Ron nodded in reply.
"Actually," Harry said with faked nonchalance, "we've found a nice, snug, out-of the-way place. Why don't you come over with us? There's plenty of room."
Parris looked at him. No-one does this, he thought. No-one looks after the little guy. But maybe, just maybe, Harry was different.
He smile. "Yeah," he said, "I'd like that."

Monday 9 November
The trainees were rudely awakened at six o'clock the following morning by reveille being sounded. During the night, there had been some changes. It had rained quite heavily; and several trainees had discovered exactly how sub-standard their jury-rigged tents were. On the plus side, a building seemed to have mysteriously appeared. A little investigation showed that it was clearly a magical space: while it was quite small on the outside, it was much bigger on the inside, with – wonder of wonders – toilets and hot showers, which the group happily took advantage of, and a kitchen, from which issued the smells of a full English breakfast being fried.
At half-past six, as they had been instructed the previous evening, they were all grouped in the central clearing of their woodland space. Godwin and Tachygloss came out of the building; it was clear that they had had bunks somewhere inside the building as they looked well rested.
Tachygloss smirked as he survey the group of damp, grumpy, miserable trainees in front of him.
"I hope you all slept well?" he asked, with just a touch of malicious enjoyment; and then his eyes lighted on three trainees who did not fit the profile.
He wandered over to them, standing in front of Ron.
"Tell me, Mr Weasley," he asked, "I'm curious to know why you, Mr Potter and Mr Parris look like you're not quite entering into the spirit of things."
"Sorry, sir," Ron said, "but Harry and I have had quite a bit of experience camping rough."
"Is that so?" Tachygloss asked.
"Yeah," Harry said, not liking the man's tone at all. "Some of us spent a few months last year camping out while trying to win a war."
"I see," Tachygloss replied, "And that entitles you to mouth off at me, does it?"
"No," Harry replied, keeping a tight rein on his anger, "it just means that we came prepared."
"You cheated?" Tachygloss asked.
Auror Godwin, standing behind him, decided it was time to intervene.
"I hardly think so, Emmet," he said. "I know you like to teach the trainees to be prepared for anything; you can hardly complain if some of them have already learnt the lesson."
He turned to Ron and Harry.
"I take it you brought a tent?"
"Yes, sir," Harry replied, relaxing a bit.
Tachygloss scowled, but Godwin just smiled and winked at Harry and Ron.
"Well done," he said, and turned to the rest of the group. "You can see that, by being prepared, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley have ensured that they are alert and ready for action today – essential qualities for an Auror. This afternoon we will revisit your accommodation and teach you how to do better; but by now, you're all probably not alert, but definitely ready for breakfast."
He waved his wand, and a fly appeared with tables underneath. The cohort sat down and were served breakfast by a small group of Ministry house-elves.
It was a strange meal. Most people were content to sit and eat their meal; it was only after several cups of tea and coffee had been drunk that any real conversation started. Even then, Ron and Harry just sat and watched, not being really very interested in talking after Tachygloss's words. On the other hand, Thomas Parris, who was generally ignored by his peers, found himself the centre of attention.
"They really have a tent?" he was asked.
"Yeah, a magical tent, with a kitchen and washroom, and bunks."
"Bloody cheats," Petrus Jufeus muttered, ostensibly to himself, but loudly enough to be heard.
"Leave it out, Peety," Adrian Jordan said wearily. Adrian was the oldest of the trainees; he was also famous for giving nicknames to people, and it was clear just what he thought of Petrus by the fact that the latter hated being called Peety, and Adrian did it all the more when he found out.
"I concur," Tachygloss said, rather to Harry and Ron's surprise. "As Auror Godwin has pointed out so cogently, Mr Potter and Mr Weasley can hardly be blamed for their good sense and foresight."
Harry nodded, accepting the point, but he still didn't quite trust the man. He was playing some game, that was a given. But there was no time to wonder what it might be; for breakfast was soon over, and they were taken off to a full day of outdoor activities, hiking, canoeing, and climbing small hills, all of it in freezing rain. It was four o'clock and the sun was low to the horizon before they returned to their campsite; lunch having been nothing more than sandwiches and fruit, they were all chilled to the bone, tired and hungry, hoping for nothing more than to hunker down for some sleep. But when they came back into the clearing, they found a group of Aurors waiting for them. In their state of exhaustion, they found themselves being forced to explain the various rude structures they had made to sleep in; and while most of the trainees found themselves being seriously told off for not setting up a decent place to sleep, they were all taught how to do so. So it was that, by five o'clock, in the dark and cold, the Aurors had ensured that at least no-one would sleep cold or wet that night.
Of course, Harry, Ron and Thomas did not have to endure being yelled at; instead, Tom Godwin took them aside and after having made sure that they could make a shelter if they needed to, asked, rather bashfully, if he could see their tent.
"It's just that we know it's here somewhere, but no-one's been able to find it. You must have set up some first-class anti-discovery wards; we were wondering where you learnt them?"
"Yeah," Ron replied with a grin. "We had to have good wards when we were moving around during the war. And we learnt them from our super-secret source of all knowledge."
Godwin looked puzzled. Source of all knowledge? he mouthed.
"Hermione Granger," Ron and Harry said together in unison.

Tuesday 10 November
Tuesday was no warmer than Monday, but at least the rain had eased up a lot, and was now just a light and patchy drizzle. The camp was in rather better spirits at the breakfast table, largely because everyone had slept a lot better than the previous night.
For their activity, they were divided up into groups of three, and taken to a rather hilly, wooded area. In the middle was a pile of stones with a flag stuck into it. They were going to take it in turns; one team would be tasked with defending the flag, while the others would be taken some distance away and then have to make their way back to attack the flag. The activity was clearly designed to give the trainees plenty of opportunities to showcase their skills in both offense and defense. The Aurors would be watching them, usually hidden, only taking part if there were problems the teams couldn't handle. This was especially important as there were anti-apparition wards in place, so only the Aurors would be able to evacuate someone if there was any sort of a medical emergency.
For most of the morning, Harry and Ron had a pretty easy time of it; while the other trainees had also survived the war, they simply did not have the experience that Harry and Ron did. Nor, of course, did they have the benefit of an invisibility cloak.
Things got a bit more interesting after lunch. Harry and Ron were picked to partner Thomas Parris and a young lady named Susan Treyfuss; they were to try to take the flag. Harry had quite a deal of respect for the girl; while not in Hermione's league of obsessive study, she was obviously very smart and diligent, so he had no concerns about the mission, even though it was the first time they'd partnered with her. She was put in charge, and demonstrated such skill and stealth that they were soon in a quiet little copse, almost within sight of the flag.
But there was something wrong. The copse was too quiet. Harry took a step, a twig broke, there was a bird noise, and suddenly they were set upon. It turned out that Petrus Jufeus, still smarting from the morning before, had decided that the two needed to be taken down a peg or two, and quietly sounded out four of his mates to organise an ambush. The call was not, in fact, made by a bird; it was the attack signal.
But if Jufeus had expected that his superior numbers, or the element of surprise, would win things for him, he was sadly mistaken. His group had cast stunners at Ron and Susan; they were blocked by the Protego Maximus that Harry cast wordlessly and wandlessly, the familiar bright green light around them the only warning of the shield's presence.
So, frustrated, Jufeus cast a body-bind curse at Harry, hoping to catch him unawares. It might have worked; but now, it seemed, the Haussmann Shield, which was supposed to require touch but had already extended across Hogwarts, was effective at much greater distances; at least, that was the only really feasible explanation for the green, red and silver light that engulfed Harry and simply absorbed the curse, and the three or four that followed it.
"Well, good marks for setting a pretty ambush, Mr Jufeus," a familiar voice rang out as Auror Tachygloss made his appearance. "But it seems that Trainee Potter has many tricks up his sleeve. You can lower your shield now, Mr Potter."
As he said this, the Haussmann Shield did in fact disappear. And then the group collectively gasped; for so, it seemed, had Harry …

When Draco woke up, he felt very disorientated. It didn't help that the last thing he remembered, he was in the Infirmary; but that smelt of the peculiar smell hospitals have that is a mixture of the odours of strong disinfectant, overblown flowers, and potions of various kinds; while right now the air smelt sweet and clear and there was that particular smell that he knew so well …
Really? he thought, and opened his eyes to find that he was in his bed in his room in Dumbledore Tower. And yes, sitting next to him, his face a mixture of adoration and concern, was Harry Malfoy-Potter.
"Hello," Harry said.
"Hello yourself," Draco said, raising himself up on his elbows. "Um, not that I mind you being here at all, but shouldn't you be in the middle of an Auror training excursion?"
"Yeah, I should," Harry said. "But the strangest thing happened. We were playing a game of Take the Flag" – Harry had to explain the game, at some length – "and Ron and two other trainees and I got ambushed by some rather pissed-off classmates…"
"Pissed off?" Draco asked. "Would this be Jufeus and Thompson again?"
Harry nodded.
"And why exactly were they so annoyed this time?"
Harry explained about how Ron and he had taken the tent with them, and the feelings of resentment that their using it had caused. Draco, though having met neither Jufeus nor Thompson, knew the type well enough – resentment of others' superior skill was rift at Hogwarts, after all – that he had no difficulty imagining the looks on their faces.
"Brilliant!" he said with a big grin when Harry had finished explaining up to the attack. "So you were ambushed, and then what?"
"Then I set up a Protego Maxima to protect the others –" Harry began.
"And left yourself wide open?" Draco asked with a frown. "You need to watch over yourself better."
"Apparently the Haussmann Shield doesn't agree," Harry said without missing a beat. "It flared into life the moment they fired a curse at me – and then the silver and green swirls went all white, and I found myself in the Infirmary, by your side."
"Oh," Draco said, looking at him with rapt attention. "So then you brought me here?"
Harry looked rather sheepish. "Not exactly," he said. "I don't really know what happened, but I saw you on the bed, sleeping, and I went to pick you up to hold you, and we suddenly were in this room again." He looked around. "Not that I mind, of course; I just hadn't expected to return here again, at least not so soon."
"Ah," Draco said. "Perhaps the bond decided we needed some privacy? Because I have something to tell you."
"Is this about why you were in the Infirmary?" Harry asked, and Draco nodded in reply. It suddenly hit Harry that, of course, for Draco to be in Madam Pomfrey's domain, something was probably very wrong, and his face filled with concern. "Did you have an accident? Or get attacked again? Do I have to beat someone up for you?"
Draco laughed.
"Calm down, Potter," he said briskly, and Harry found both the tone and the use of his surname helped him to do just that. "No, nothing like that. I'm not hurt, injured or ill."
"So … what, then?"
"I'm pregnant," he replied.
Harry did not faint at the news. But it was a near thing.

"How…" Harry stammered out, suddenly finding himself all but incapable of articulate speech.
"How did I get pregnant?" Draco asked, teasingly. "Well you were there, you should know!"
Harry shook his head.
"How did I find out?" Draco suggested, and Harry nodded. "The third year class I was to take this afternoon is brewing the Antidote to Uncommon Poisons. As you may recall, some of the ingredients, especially billywig stings, are rather volatile, so we don't let ill or pregnant people attempt to brew it. Borage set wards to detect this; apparently I tripped them. And I may say, he was jolly sneaky. He sent me to Madam Pomfrey with a note, without telling me anything; so of course I found out in the Infirmary, not the classroom. Good thing too, I suppose."
"Good thing, why?" Harry asked.
It was Draco's turn to look sheepish. "Um, er, when she told me … I fainted."
"Oh," said Harry, starting to grin.
"Shut it, Potter," Draco said.
"Malfoy-Potter," Harry replied, and then pulled him into a hug.
"We're going to have a baby," he said, eventually, moving up to sit on the bed against the headboard as he pulled Draco up so the blond was lying on top of him, his head on Harry's shoulder. "Merlin! They told us it wasn't possible."
"Yeah, but you're the famous Harry Potter, doer of impossible things."
"Malfoy-Potter," Harry corrected again. "We did it together."
The moment was saved from descending into soppiness by a rather urgent knock at the door.
"Yes?" Harry called.
"Mr Potter?" the Headmistress's voice enquired. "I might have known you'd have something to do with it. Is Mr Malfoy with you? May we come in?"
"Naturally, yes, and yes," Harry replied.
A moment later, the door opened and Headmistress McGonagall, Professor Borage and Madam Pomfrey entered. It was the last of these who spoke first.
"And just what do you think you're doing leaving my Infirmary without my leave?" Poppy asked Draco, who shrank into Harry due to the vehemence of her tone.
"It's my doing, Poppy," Harry said simply. "And even then, I had no control over it. I was on an Auror training exercise earlier this afternoon. I was attacked with a body-bind curse, and the Haussmann Shield flared up in response; and then I felt a strange sort of tingling, and I knew that Draco needed me, and suddenly I was by his bedside in the Infirmary, and I reached down to hug him, and then the next thing I knew we were both in this room, and Draco woke up."
"I see," said Borage. "Well, I can agree that it was without your control or consent; but you have caused us quite a bit of angst, young men."
"I'm very sorry, sir," Draco replied.
"Nonsense, Horace," McGonagall cut in. "I think we can see that Mr Malfoy is quite all right; we can probably leave him in Poppy's tender hands. I assume you will want to check him over?"
"I think we'd like to see the results of that check, if Mr Malfoy and Madam Pomfrey don't mind?"
Draco nodded his consent.
"Of course," Poppy said, and quickly did her checks, expertly casting diagnostic spells which produced a sheet of parchment which she consulted carefully.
"All seems to be well," she said, her voice becoming calmer. She had been absolutely horrified half an hour ago when she had discovered that her pregnant patient was missing; they had been searching the castle since, and she had become extremely flustered both because Draco was gone and because she'd probably run further and faster in the thirty minutes than in the preceding thirty years.
"Good," Borage said. "Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter, I suggest that the two of you might like to stay here for a little while coming to terms with the news of Mr Malfoy's pregnancy." He could see Draco looking a bit anxious, and could make a shrewd guess why, so continued, "you need have no worries about your studies, Mr Malfoy; your potion is in the care of a house-elf. Normally I would expect you to tend to it yourself, but these are exceptional circumstances."
"And I'm sure we can sort out something with the Auror training, Mr Potter," the Headmistress chipped in. "You just leave that to me."
"Thank you," Harry said gratefully. Though, to be honest, it hadn't really crossed his mind that he would need to do something about it. "And would it be alright for you to please Floo-call Draco's parents and ask them to pay us a visit?"
"I believe I can stretch a point," the Headmistress replied drily. "Anyone else you'd like to invite along? Bearing in mind that this is a school, not a social club."
"Could you also Floo-call Mr and Mrs Weasley? They're kind of Harry' honorary parents, after all." Draco asked, a little diffidently; he still wasn't entirely comfortable with the Headmistress.
McGonagall smiled at him. "Of course," she replied. "Would you like me to tell them all the news, or shall I leave that to you?"
"Oh, if you can get them here without telling them, that would be wonderful," Draco replied, quite taken with the idea of being able to surprise their parents with the news.
"I think I can manage that," the Headmistress said with a twinkle in her eye, reminding Harry very strongly of Albus Dumbledore in a good mood. "We'll see about finding a private sitting room for you, and laying on a late afternoon tea, perhaps," she finished, and with that, she and Borage took their leave.
"Now, Mr Malfoy, Mr Potter," Poppy Pomfrey said to them crisply once the three of them were alone, "according to my scans, Mr Malfoy is just over six weeks pregnant. Conception on or about the twenty-sixth of September, which would give you a due date of the twentieth of June if your pregnancy were a normal female pregnancy. Of course, for a male pregnancy, we have no data. So far, it appears there have been no noticeable signs; is that right?"
"I haven't had any sickness, if that's what you mean," Draco replied. "I have been brewing a pregnancy-safe pick-me-up potion for Hermione Weasley, and taking some of it myself, like I told you."
"Yes, I remember," Poppy replied shortly. "There's no problem there, by the way; as you said, the doses you have been taking are find. Keep it up if you need them. I also think we might see if Armand Ionescu will have a look at you when he comes over on Friday – Merlin knows what a male pregnancy is likely to do to the mind."
"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey," Draco said.
"Of course, dear," Poppy said, smiling at him. "I appreciate that this is all rather overwhelming – it's new ground for all of us. I'll consult with some of the medi-witches at St Mungo's who specialise in pregnancy and see if there's anything they can think of that we should consider. Apart from that, I expect you to come and see me every couple of weeks for a check-up to make sure things are progressing well."
"Thank you, Poppy," Harry said.
The medi-witch turned to leave, then suddenly whirled around to face them.
"Oh!" she said. "I nearly forgot what I was going to say when you passed out, Mr Malfoy. Your baby, it's—"
"Yes?" Draco asked eagerly.
"Not one," she announced; then, seeing their stunned faces, added, "no, no, I don't mean you're not having a baby; it's just that you're having twins."

A house-elf showed Draco and Harry to Minerva's old private sitting room, which was still currently unused as other, more masculine, accommodation had been found for Monsieur le Professeur Dreyfuss. At four o'clock, the Headmistress herself appeared, followed by four rather concerned-looking parents.
"Draco?" Narcissa asked, striding into the room as soon as she saw him. "Minerva said you had news? Is something wrong?"
Draco gave a weak chuckle. "Yes, we have news, and no, nothing is wrong. Why don't the four of you sit down and get some tea, we'll explain."
Lucius looked like he was going to have an apoplectic fit at the delay, and Arthur didn't look much better; but they managed to hold in their demands for information, and accept the cups of tea that Molly poured for them all. Harry was impressed at Draco's reserve; he wanted to shout the news from the rooftops, but the blond was being much more self-restrained and waited with seeming infinite patience for everyone to settle down.
"Now," Draco said, "I can't really think of a way to break this gently: I'm pregnant."
Harry was sure that he would never forget the look on Lucius Malfoy's face at that moment when he was told that Draco was pregnant. It appeared to have been compounded of equal parts disbelief, hope, and shock. Narcissa and Molly's responses were much simpler; they immediately rose from their seat in perfect synchronicity and wrapped themselves around Draco, exclaiming loudly their congratulations. Arthur Weasley took a moment to get himself together, and then he too rose from his seat, walking straight to Harry, who rose to greet him, and sticking out his hand. Harry was having none of it; he gathered his surrogate father into a hug, which he was delighted to find was returned with gusto.
"Congratulations, Harry," he said as they let go of each other. "Congratulations to the both of you."
"Yes, indeed," Lucius said, last to rise. "But how is this possible?" he asked, as he too came and tried to shake Harry's hand, receiving the same treatment. By the time he had finished hugging Harry, Draco had managed to extricate himself from the two mothers and was standing next to him, and wrapped his arms around his father. As he held onto his son tightly, Lucius found, to his embarrassment, that his eyes were filling with tears. As they broke apart, he managed to surreptitiously pull a handkerchief from his pocket and dab his eyes as he sat down. But one look at his wife and he knew that the action had not gone unnoticed; she was looking at him all too knowingly. He winced.
"What did you use?" Arthur said, taking over Lucius's line of enquiry. "Spell? Potion?"
"Er, would you believe, nothing?" Harry asked.
"Nothing," Lucius said flatly. "You did nothing special to make it happen."
"Well, we did…" Harry began, but Draco elbowed him in the ribs before he could continue.
Narcissa laughed. "Just like men," she said. "No grasp of the essentials. Our son got pregnant the old-fashioned way, that's all we really need to know. But, tell us everything! Since when, and how is baby doing, and when is it due?"
"And how are you feeling, Draco, dear?" Molly chimed in. "You look well."
Draco smiled at her. There was no mistaking the genuine note of concerned interest in her voice.
"I'm feeling pretty well, thank you," he replied. "I have been taking some pregnancy-safe potions as I was brewing them for another one of our friends …"
"Hermione?" Molly asked, and Draco looked a little wary. "It's all right, we're all aware of that development," Molly continued, putting them at ease. "And I must say, we're delighted at the thought of having not just one but two new grandchildren to play with soon!"
"Thanks, Molly," Harry said, for Draco; he could tell that his husband was feeling rather emotional at Molly's evident love for them both, and was not likely to make a coherent response. On his part, Draco reached for his tea – which floated over to him, and he looked at his husband who was now smirking gently at him.
"Thanks," he whispered before taking a long swig of tea. "Ah," he said, his voice returned to normal, "that's better. Now, mother, the baby was conceived on our wedding night, the twenty-sixth of September; that puts the due date, assuming a male pregnancy is the same as a female one, in mid-June."
"Oh!" Narcissa said brightly. "A Summer baby!"
"Ah, no," Draco replied.
"No," Harry echoed. "And Molly is wrong too."
"You mean you're having…" Lucius started, twigging what was up; but his son cut him off.
"We're having twins!" Draco announced, beaming.
"Oh my word!" Molly said. "How wonderful!"
"Oh my darling!" Narcissa said at the same time. "You must be very careful. Multiple pregnancies are not kind to pure-bloods. I shall consult with Healer Cassono, he will no doubt put you on a strict diet, and you'll need potions and …"
"Mother!" Draco said. "I'm sure there's no need for Healer Cassono! After all, we have Madam Pomfrey and the staff of St Mungo's!"
"Yes, Dragon," Narcissa all but cooed, "but firstly, Anton knows your medical history, and secondly, do you really think you'll get the best of care? After all, we were on the losing side."
"I hardly think that matters," Molly said, bristling slightly.
"I'd like to think it wouldn't," Narcissa replied sadly, "but unfortunately not everyone is so broad-minded."
"I rather think that the medical staff will take good care of Harry Potter's babies," Lucius interjected. Narcissa gave him a stare that plainly meant 'whose side are you on?', but Lucius pretended not to notice.
"Well," Harry said, trying to keep the peace, "perhaps, Dragon, you could let the Healer see you, just for your mother's peace of mind?"
"Oh very well," Draco sighed, and Narcissa perked up enormously. Evidently she could play on her son-in-law's sense of guilt; this was excellent news.
"Good!" she said. "Now, what about your apprenticeship? Will it affect that very much?"
"I have to discuss that with Professor Borage; but for the moment, he's letting a house-elf cover for me. We'll have to talk more long-term sometime soon, I guess," Draco replied.
"And Harry?" Arthur asked. "Aren't you supposed to be at an Auror off-site event this week?"
"Er, yeah," Harry replied. "It's kind of a long story…"
And, encouraged by Arthur, he explained the events of his afternoon. His explanation of the effects of the Haussmann shield, and his unintentional Apparition through both the anti-Apparition wards that the Ministry had set up at the campsite, and those that surrounded Hogwarts, had Lucius looking rather pensive; Harry felt, not for the first time, that he and Hermione had to be soul-twins of some kind; they both rushed with great relish straight to a library whenever there was new information to consider or research to be done. Arthur, on the other hand, simply assured him that he would make sure everything got smoothed over.
Harry smiled. While there definitely were perks to being Harry Potter, he hated using them. Much better to have the Deputy Minister going in to bat for him.

Once the parents had left, Draco and Harry retired to their room for a while; six o'clock found them having dinner in a private dining-room with the Headmistress and the Potions Professor.
"Now, boys," Borage began once everyone had a meal in front of them, "we have had some discussions about your future. Mr Malfoy, I can assure you that there will be no problems; we will simply accommodate whatever is required for your pregnancy. I don't really mind if we have to have your overnight potions tended by a house-elf; it doesn't really make any sense to keep you up, it's more a sort of archaic way of showing who's boss. Frankly, I think it's silly; you are clearly an excellent student and quite sufficiently respectful, so we can just ignore that."
"Thank you, sir," Draco replied. "The Ministry won't object?"
"They won't care," Borage replied. "It's more that other Potions Masters will expect you to have served your time with overnight stirrings and the like. But you can just tell them that you were pregnant at the time. It's none of their business how I choose to teach you, after all; as long as you have the expertise of a Potions Master at the end of your apprenticeship. And I can assure you I have no concerns about that at the present time. Early days, of course; but there you are."
"Your case is a little more tricky, Mr Potter," McGonagall said. "The Head Auror had already received a formal complaint about your behaviour on the course."
Harry groaned. "From Instructor Tachygloss?" he hazarded.
"No," the Headmistress replied. "From one of your fellow students. A Petrus Jufeus, I understand."
Draco snorted. "He really does have it in for you, doesn't he?" he asked.
"Looks like it," Harry agreed. "What did Robarts have to say?"
McGonagall smiled at him. "He said he'd keep an open mind," she replied. "He Floo-called me back just half an hour ago to say that he had been contacted by the Deputy Minister, and had reassured him that things could be worked out. You are officially excused for tonight; but he does want you to go into the Ministry first thing tomorrow and discuss it with him."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He really did not want to leave Draco alone on the first night that he knew that he was pregnant.

Harry had never got out of the habit of taking his trunk everywhere; so it was the work of a few minutes for him to fish out washing tackle and pajama pants, and get ready for bed. They lay together in their Hogwarts bed, breathing in each other's scent.
"Thank you," Draco said, eventually.
"What for?" Harry asked.
"Loving me," Draco replied. "Wanting to be here with me. Taking care of me."
"Always," Harry said.
Later, when the two men were fast asleep in each other's arms, there came a red glow in the room. There was no mist this time; the figure that formed was quite recognisably that of a young man. Though he was still not completely solid, he knew that was the work of only a little more time.
He looked around the room. His magic told him that this was Hogwarts; not somewhere he'd ever expected to see again. But this room was new to him; he gently sent out feelers into Harry's sleeping mind, and discovered that this was Dumbledore Tower, a fact that occasioned a mirthless, and silent, chuckle.
All was well. Harry was sleeping peacefully, and Draco's pregnancy was coming along perfectly.
Now was the time, he could sense it. Now he could finally become a physical entity again, able to take part in the real world, not just in their dreams. To walk and talk with them.
There was just one small problem. To finish his work, to become fully corporeal, he would have to let loose his hold on the magic he wielded. And so much was being held in place by that magic. Now was the most dangerous time of all; who knew what would happen when he let go?
Well, really, there was only one way to find out, he supposed …

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
See http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/56042-review-replies-for-returning-to-sanity/ for review replies.
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Returning to Sanity