Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Returning to Sanity	By : AchillesTheGeek Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 31212 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 3
Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter books or films, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 85
- 86
- 87
86. Things Begin to Return where they Belong
By dint of sheer effort, Draco managed to get the three potions Borage had him working on finished just before five o'clock. Borage walked through the door bang on the hour, to find his apprentice feverishly cleaning cauldrons, the potions bottled or left under stasis, where they were safe to remain until Monday.
"It seems you have everything in hand," he said mildly, but Draco did not fail to see the proud sparkle in his eye. The old master looked around carefully, inspected the vats, and smiled at Draco.
"Get away with you," he said gruffly. "You have things to do this evening, and this is all fine to leave."
Draco did not need to be told twice.

As he sat in the his family's chateau in France, Blaise Zabini was worried about his friend and fellow Slytherin, Theodore Nott. To be sure, it was obvious that life in South Africa was doing wonders for him: not only was he sporting a healthy tan from the outdoor lifestyle that was simply impossible in Northern climes, but he had hardly stopped smiling for the whole afternoon that he had been in France. But he knew his friend too well to be deceived by outward appearances: his arm was giving him grief, Blaise was sure of that, and he could see that there were muscular problems going down his spine as well. No doubt the cold was seeping into the joints and making life hard for Theo. He didn't complain about it; Blaise privately would have preferred it if he had. This 'soldier on' mentality was likely to lead to a catastrophic burn-out some time in the near future. He just hoped the ceremony would all be over before things got anywhere near that point.

It was a good thing that the Hogwarts house-elves had been practically falling over themselves to help Draco once they had learnt that he was pregnant. Not that it was quite clear how they had found out; but then, Draco ruminated, it was practically impossible to keep a secret at Hogwarts for very long. He just hoped they could keep the student body in the dark for a few more days. So far, so good; it helped that he could legitimately claim to be busy most of the time, so his interactions with the students were few and far between, apart from mealtimes. But the house-elves had worked it out. Probably, he thought, by dint of listening in at the infirmary.
So when he had asked Winky if they could provide him with an early, and light, meal, he wasn't all that surprised to find a table laid for one waiting for him in his and Harry's room. But what was surprising was the evident exquisite care that had lavished on it: the table was set with a beautifully starched tablecloth with damask napkin and all the proper cutlery, and the meal, served on fine bone china dishes, was absolutely delicious: gazpacho soup was followed by a beautifully cooked Sole Meniere, and a deliciously crisp apple sorbet for dessert. Granted, it wasn't exactly what he had expected of a 'light meal'; he would have been happy with a plate of sandwiches. But he had no trouble with it, and felt both well-fed and refreshed when he had finished; as he had found over the last couple of days, whether the house-elves were doing something special or not, the food sat lightly in his stomach and he was able to digest it without feeling at all nauseous.
"Winky!" he called, knowing that she had taken over responsibility for everything to do with their room. A second later the house-elf appeared in front of him.
"Master Malfoy-Potter is calling Winky?" she asked. "How can Winky be helping Master? Is Master needing help packing for the weekend?"
Draco laughed happily. "No, no," he replied, "that's all done. I just wanted to say thank you for the dinner. It was easily the best meal I have ever had at Hogwarts."
Winky's eyes went as round as saucers, and she puffed up in pride. "Winky is so happy master Draco is enjoying his food! We's is making sure Master Draco's food is being agreeable for him and little ones!"
At this point, Winky put her hand over her mouth. "Oh!" she said. "Winky is not supposed to know!"
Draco, knowing that there was every chance the poor creature would go off and punish herself, something Harry would be horrified about, smiled at her. "Never mind," he said. "You're doing a very good job. Just please keep it secret from the students, and make sure the other elves do too." He looked around at the dirty dishes. "Please feel free to clean up here, I've finished and must get going back to the Lodge and off to the wedding rehearsal in France."
With that, Draco Flooed away, leaving a very happy elf behind; her master had praised her, and given her a responsible job to do; the combination was house-elf heaven!

Lucius Malfoy sat in his study, sipping on a very decent pre-dinner sherry, ruminating over the last couple of days. He and Hermione had still not worked out what was going on with this strange feeling that was abroad; but then, they hadn't worked out how Draco could possibly be pregnant either. Were the two related, he wondered?
Difficult to tell. Best to start with what he knew, then. One thing he did know was that with the Wizarding world seeming to wake up from some kind of magical slumber, he had received more Howlers in the last two days than in his entire life before. They were, in a funny way, almost comforting: they all seemed to follow the same formula, telling him that he was a Death Eater (he already knew that, thanks); he had been convicted by the Wizengamot (ditto) and should be languishing in a cell in Azkaban, not running around the country terrorizing poor Muggles, or some other equally asinine description of his current activities.
Well, at least people were getting agitated enough to put quill to parchment. He knew well enough that the main reason that the Ministry had got so bad, and Voldemort had flourished, was a general apathy on the part of the Wizarding public. This agitation may well be a good sign. While of course he would prefer to be left alone, perhaps this waking-up would get people to look more critically at their representatives, which would be no bad thing. It would need careful handling, of course; if it deteriorated back into "let's demonize the Death Eaters" and blind prejudice then they were sunk. But his interview with Doge had convinced him that he, at least, wasn't going to stand for that. The Potter Code was still an important article of faith. They just had to convince people to keep it in place and let it guide them into looking more deeply into their society and building one that was genuinely more equal.
Another sip of sherry, and he ruminated a little about just what had happened to him. Here he was, the ultimate pure-blood, the uber-Slytherin, thinking about making an equal society. And actually approving of it. It was all Harry, of course. There was no doubt that the Debt had constrained him enormously; but the sheer love and compassion that radiated from his son-in-law was, he had come to see, so much more powerful than any debt.
And wasn't that a shocking thought. There was something more important in public life than the calculus of obligation and debt. Of course, he accepted that as a principle in his private life: whatever else could be said about Lucius Malfoy, and there were a lot of shady areas in his past, he did truly love his wife and his son. And in the end, he knew, Harry knew that too, and it was the thing that had kept him out of Azkaban.
As he took another sip of his sherry, the Floo went; he turned to find Hermione Weasley's face staring at him. As always, the green tinge of the flame did her no favours, but he could see the usual earnest scholarly glint in her eye, and knew at once she had worked something out.
"Hermione," he said, lifting his glass in mock salute. "How are you this evening?"
"Ginny told me something rather interesting this morning," she replied, completely ignoring his attempt at small talk. Lucius smiled inwardly; he liked that she was now sufficiently comfortable with him to drop the conventional responses, though he was not going to let her see the smile – she would think he was laughing at her, not at all the message he wanted to convey.
"Go on," he said encouragingly; though it was hardly needed as Hermione did go on to explain the entire conversation she and Ginny had had that morning, as well as the one with Ron that afternoon.
Once he had heard the whole thing, he sat back.
"I suppose it makes sense," he said eventually. "Harry does keep doing things that can't be done, after all."
Hermione gave him a warm smile.
"Yeah, like surviving the Avada Kedavra curse, for starters."
"That's true," Lucius agreed, "though I was rather thinking back to the events where the Debt and the Haussmann shield were created. After all, Harry had no idea what he was doing then; so of course the magic he used wasn't anything we can find in books; I'm certain he just made it up as he went along. If that was the start of the enchantment that – what did Luna say? 'We've all been being pushed into doing the right thing.'?"
Hermione nodded in reply.
"So it probably goes back to exactly what he said on the day the Dark Lord finally died. Which, you may recall, wasn't a potion or spell as such, just Harry using some words with the Elder wand; which is probably why we can't track it down."
"Phew," Hermione said. "Do know what he said?"
"I confess, I do not," Lucius replied in a sad tone. "However, we will be seeing him at the Zabini – Delacour wedding tomorrow. Will you be there?"
"Yes, we will," Hermione replied. "Blaise and Angelique invited all of the Eighth Year students."
"Excellent. Then we must find a quiet moment to ask him about it. Just one other thing – have you, by any chance, been receiving Howlers?"

It was after six when Harry returned to The Lodge, hoping that Draco would be there. But the house was empty; well, empty of Wizards, at least.
"Tiny!" Harry called, and the aptly-named house-elf appeared in front of him.
"Yes Master Harry!" she said excitedly. "How is Tiny being able to help Master Harry?"
"Has Draco come home yet?" Harry asked.
Tiny looked dejected.
"Master Draco is being at the Zabini Manor in France," she replied, clearly upset that she had to give Harry such news. "There is being a rehearsal for the Zabini – Delacour wedding tomorrow."
"Of course," Harry replied, "I should have remembered. Do you know when he will be home?"
Tiny looked even more down than before.
"Master Draco is not telling Tiny," she replied.
"Well, never mind," Harry replied. "It'll give me a chance to sort out my things from the camp while he's not here."
Tiny's eyes went hugely wide.
"Master is not to do such things!" she replied indignantly. "Tiny is being doing them for him!"
"All right," Harry said, meekly, producing the bag he had taken camping and unshrinking it. The house-elf smiled at the prospect of real work to do, picked up the bag and popped away.
Harry sighed. He sat down in one of the rather comfortable armchairs in their front room and picked up the novel he had been reading before he had gone on the Auror week, more to while away the time than because he was interested in it.

Auguste Delacour was very much enjoying getting to know Marco Renzi, Blaise's step-father and therefore his daughter's future father-in-law. It was hard not to like him: they had so much in common after all. As well as speaking beautiful French, the man was well bred, had lovely manners, a good appreciation for fine wine, and an absolute loathing for getting involved in the actual business of setting up the wedding.
It was this last shared trait that had caused both men to be holed up in Auguste's study, enjoying a very lovely Beaujolais.
"Well!" Marco said, lifting his glass, "here is to a long and happy association between our families!"
"Indeed!" Auguste replied, draining his glass and refilling both of them. "Now, monsieur, my wife tells me you are involved in the fashion industry?"
Marco smiled. "Indeed," he replied. "You understand that Milan, where we live, is a mjor centre of the fashion industry, both Wizarding and Muggle."
His host nodded. He was a pure-blood wizard and an aristocrat, so he knew such things very well; and it came as no surprise to hear his guest discussing the Muggle world. Some people, particularly the British, got rather standoffish about the Muggle world, but that seemed rather silly to him.
"It is, in fact, very convenient," Marco continued. "After all, clothing a Muggle is not really any different from clothing a Magical, apart from the fabric used."
"I see," Auguste said, with a twinkle in his eye. "Well, I'm sure that my wife will be placing large orders with you soon enough."
At this the Italian laughed. "I fear, Monsieur, you are behind the times there; your wife has been purchasing my garments for years!"
"Indeed?" Auguste replied, his eyebrows raised. "Then I congratulate you on your excellent product – for Honore never buys anything but the best available."
"You are too kind," Marco replied. "Though I confess, availability has been something of a problem in the recent past. Regrettably, I have had some trouble with Britain's Department of International Magical Co-operation, and also, though I hesitate to bring a shadow across our conversation, there have been some problems with shipments being held up at the docks in Marseille."
"Ah," his host replied, then sat back in thought.
"There is some possibility," he said at last, "that these two events are related."
"Really?" Renzi asked.
"Yes. You may recall that there was a Beauxbatons student – one Eva Thillin – who caused a lot of difficulty as part of the exchange programme at Hogwarts. There is some evidence that she was involved with the Head of the Department you name, and has since fled to join the French criminal underworld."
"I see," his visitor said simply. "This is all rather concerning. But you seem to be very well informed, monsieur?"
Auguste spread his hands in a self-deprecating gesture that did not fool his guest for one minute.
"One hears so many things," he replied mildly. "For some time, our Aurors have been concerned with the activities of a man from Marseille – one Gaston Gaspard by name."
"I have not heard the name," Marco replied somewhat cautiously.
"No, of course not, Monsieur Gaspard is most careful to keep his name out of things. But the various Departments of Justice in our Wizarding world are not as stupid as he would like to believe. You must know, Monsieur, that while most people might think of me as nothing but an aristocrat in a country that officially does not have such things, in fact, I work for our Magical Justice Department as liaison with the various organisations in the other European Wizarding nations. So, you understand, I hear a great many things, both facts and suspicions."
"Ah," Marco replied. "And is there, perhaps, something being done about these facts and suspicions?"
His host smirked at him.
"Ah, Monsieur," Delacour replied with a wink and a shake of the hand; which proved, as he knew it would, quite enough answer for his perceptive guest. 'A nod is as good as a wink to a blind Thestral', as the English said.

For his part, Draco was rather enjoying himself. To be sure, he missed Harry; but the moment he had arrived at the Delacours' chateau he had been collared by Marianna Zabini, who had insisted on showing him the decorations she and the Delacours had chosen for the reception. 'A far cry from my own mother, who wouldn't let anyone see a thing,' he thought ruefully; but then Mrs Zabini had always been far more into ebullient and extravagant showing-off than his more reserved family would ever be.
Nonetheless, the attention she lavished upon him was very welcome, especially after the recent events at Hogwarts. And the feeling of belonging only grew when they entered the little gazebo that Blaise and Angelique would be married in and found the rest of the wedding party standing there waiting for him.
"Here we are!" Marianna said, and everyone turned to him and smiled, warm, friendly smiles. Of course it helped immensely that two of the group, Blaise and Theo, were his friends from Slytherin, while Angelique Delacours and her two bridesmaids, her two cousins Fleur and Gabrielle, were Frenchwomen of considerable breeding; this was exactly the milieu he had grown up in, and he felt perfectly at home.
The practice went without incident; except that Draco could not help noticing that Theo's arm seemed to be a bit stiff. As they stood around afterwards, he decided to tackle his friend on the point.
"So, Theo," he began, "how is South Africa treating you?"
"Very well," Theo replied with a huge grin. "Thank you so much for your present; with that, and the family there, we've settled right in. Pansy's even got her course sorted out and I get excellent medical attention for free as part of the deal."
Draco was pleased that he wasn't going to have to work the conversation. "How is that going?" he asked, putting some quite genuine concern in his voice. "Are they as good as St Mungo's?"
"Oh, I think so," he replied airily. "My arm is doing very well there, in the hotter climate; it's been a bit stiff coming back here though, so we might have to leave soon after the ceremony to get back to the warm."
"That would be sad," Draco replied, and meant it. "But perhaps Harry and I could come and visit?"
Theo and Pansy, who had come along to watch, broke into wide grins. "That would be wonderful," they said together, then laughed at the co-incidence. "Perhaps in the New Year?" Theo offered.
"I'll have to ask Harry, but that sounds great," Draco said. "We'll also have to see about my health."
"Your health?" Theo asked, puzzled.
"Yes," Angelique replied as she joined them. "There was a little incident on Tuesday. Just exactly what happened to you, Monsieur?"
"Draco, please," he replied. "And yes, there was an issue and a potion saw me in the Hospital wing and then in the Tower. My parents even visited because of it."
"Alors!" Angelique replied. "I 'ope you are quite recovered."
"Oh, no," Draco replied mischievously. "This little issue will be with me for quite some time."
"That's too bad," Theo said. "But it will clear up eventually, right?"
"Well, I confess that at some point it will become a big issue. Harry and I will probably have to refashion The Lodge a little when that happens."
Theo's jaw dropped open, and Angelique looked even more concerned than before; but Draco could all but see the cogs turning in Pansy's head, especially, he suspected, at his deliberate and repeated use of the word 'issue'.
"Draco, are you…" Pansy asked excitedly, the sickle obviously having dropped.
Draco chuckled. "Yes, Pansy, I'M PREGNANT! Harry Potter did the impossible again, on our wedding night no less."
In retrospect, it might have been wiser to have said this a little more quietly; for Marianna Zabini and Honoree Delacour both jumped up excitedly and Draco found himself being borne down on by both his hostesses.
"Darling Draco!" Marianna said, wrapping him in a hug. "How wonderful!"
"Yes indeed!" Honoree agreed, a glint in her eyes. "You 'ave not made a public announcement yet?"
"No," Draco confirmed, "we only found out on Tuesday."
"How exciting!" Marianna said. "And how lovely that you would tell us all first! Will you perhaps make an announcement at the reception?"
"Oh, I don't think so," Draco replied. "Can't steal Blaise and Angelique's big day."
"And I imagine,' Madame Delacour said drily, "that Narcissa will want to have some big do to announce it at."
Draco blanched.
"I think, maman," Angelique said, frowning at her mother, "that you have scared Monsieur Malfoy quite enough this evening."
And with that, she linked her arm through Draco's, and steered him over to a table laden with refreshments where Blaise was already standing.
The Italian handed his friend a glass of punch; though he was not at all surprised that, before accepting the glass, Draco picked up a plate and put some choux pastries on it.
"So, still a sweet tooth?" he said teasingly.
"Mmm," Draco mumbled, being incapable of coherent speech due to his mouth being full of a rather delicious pastry filled with crème Anglaise.
"And pregnant?" Blaise continued, his tone becoming both gentler and more serious.
Draco nodded.
"Are you missing 'Arry, then? He is away, I think, so he does not know?"
Draco swallowed the pastry. "He was away this week at Auror training," he agreed, "and we were not supposed to see each other. But there was a very strange thing happened on Tuesday," and he went on to describe how Harry and he had managed to spend the night together. As he spoke, none of the three French girls failed to notice the way Draco's eyes sparkled every time he mentioned his husband.
"You really are missing 'im, n'est-ce pas?" Gabrielle asked him.
Draco sighed; indeed, he did miss Harry, rather desperately. How was he going to cope, he wondered, suddenly realising that they were both going to be rather busy for the foreseeable future. His bottom lip wobbled, just a little; but Blaise had known him for a long time and instantly knew that his friend was quite disturbed.
"Do you really want to do this Potions course, if you're going to be a mother?" he asked, as gently as he could.
Draco looked at him, water in his eyes, rather shocked at the thought that yes, he was going to be a mother. He'd never given it a thought before: after all, babies grew inside women, and they were mothers, while men were fathers. But if the babies were in his body, that made him the mother, he guessed. It was a very strange idea, and he found it hard to wrap his mind around it. And Blaise was right – if he missed Harry this much already, did he really want to continue his study? Especially once the twins were born, and he would, he was sure, want nothing but to look after them?
Seeing his friend looking upset, Blaise could not help himself – he gathered Draco into a hug, rubbing his back.
"I think perhaps you should go and see him now," he said simply. "Do not worry, I shall give your farewells to mia madre and Madame Delacour. Come to our chateau tomorrow for lunch. And of course bring 'Arry."
"Thanks," Draco said, slightly choking as he said it. He didn't dare say any more, and he was grateful not to have to give the proper polite goodbyes as he Apparated back to The Lodge.

Minerva McGonagall found herself at a rather high-powered dinner that night. It wasn't often that she dined out of the school; to find herself, Libatius Borage and Filius Flitwick invited to dine at the Merlin Club with the Minister, Deputy Minister and Head Auror had rather shocked her.
She had arrived feeling rather apprehensive and wondering just what bombshell was going to be dropped on the two Professors tonight. A feeling that was only slightly eased by the presence of Molly Weasley and both Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy; at least together they out-numbered the Ministry personnel two to one. Not, she thought wryly, that that would matter very much if the Minister really wanted to push something through.
But the meal had been truly delicious, very much helped, as far as she was concerned, by the inspired choice of an exquisite single malt whisky served with, and perfectly complementing, the salmon starter; and so by the time the food was eaten and they were installed in the Guest's Lounge with coffee and liqueurs, she found herself feeling quite relaxed.
Kingsley smiled at her.
"I hope you enjoyed the meal?" he asked.
"Very much, thank you," she replied crisply. "Though I find myself wondering just exactly what the occasion is?"
"That's rather my department," Arthur Weasley replied. "We really wanted to chat about Harry and Draco. You're aware, of course, of the events of the week; we were hoping to get your opinions and advice on how best to help them."
"Very admirable, I'm sure," Flitwick replied, "but I don't really see what I can add?"
"You're very important, Filius," the Minister replied. "You've been mentoring Harry over the last few months, up until his wedding; we rather hope you'll step up and continue that."
"Why?" Borage asked rather acerbically. "Why the sudden interest in these two lads?"
"It's hardly sudden," McGonagall pointed out to him, and Arthur nodded in agreement. "But I do want to know why they particularly need help? This isn't the Ministry trying to dictate people's lives again is it?"
"No, no," Shacklebolt said, his arms extended in a gesture of surrender. "No, please allow me to explain."
It was a very pensive Headmistress who left the dinner nearly two hours later. She wasn't entirely convinced; but she was at least reassured that there was nothing nefarious going on. Whether what the Ministry wanted would happen was another matter, though. After all, they were trying to reckon with Harry Potter, who had a firm track record for upsetting people's plans …

Harry gradually became aware that something wasn't quite right. It seemed like the lighting in the room was now awfully bright; and there was some weight on top of him. It took a moment before he realised just how familiar the feeling was …
He opened his eyes, only realising as he did so that they were shut. The light wasn't the lighting in their front room; he found he was now stretched out on their bed, and the sun was just streaming through their window. And the weight on top of him was his octopus of a husband.
He shifted slightly, and Draco's eyes sprang open.
"Morning," the blond drawled. "It was very strange to get home last night and find you fast asleep in an armchair. Can't have been very comfortable?"
Harry stretched.
"No, probably not," he agreed. "Though the camp bed wasn't so good, either. Waking up here, with you, however …"
Harry pulled his husband into a kiss which was returned enthusiastically.
"Much though I'd love to continue this," Draco said a little while later, "we do have a wedding to get to."
"What time?" Harry asked.
"Three o'clock," Draco replied.
"Plenty of time," Harry said with a smirk, rolling his husband over.
Now, Draco was a Malfoy, and had been brought up with iron self-control and a knowledge that duty came before pleasure. He knew his duty as Blaise's best man, and fully intended to be at the Zabini summer home well before noon to assist in whatever way was required. But he was also pregnant; and now that he had him, he realised that he had missed his husband even more than he had thought. So when Harry whispered the lubricating spells, while his mind was telling him that they needed to stop, his body had other ideas.
Very definite other ideas.
He whispered a spell of his own and as Harry stood over him, Draco lifted his own now-bare legs over Harry's shoulders. Harry smiled at him and Draco thought it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. And then he felt the faint burn, and then all pain was gone as his already hormonal body released pheromones and he found himself feeling the incredible sense of connection and belonging that was, as always when they made love, almost tangible…
Connection … Belonging …
Where had he heard those words before? This was important, he knew it. And then they connected again, Harry's magic swirling around and his coming out and responding, and he felt like he had fallen over a cliff as all rational thought left him and he just knew once again the deep feelings of joy and peace that he only ever had when he was held in the arms of the man he loved so, so much.

See http://www2.adult-fanfiction.org/forum/index.php/topic/56042-review-replies-for-returning-to-sanity/ for review replies.
- 85
- 86
- 87
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Returning to Sanity