Returning to Sanity

Hermione Weasley had left Blaise and Angelique's wedding as a woman on a mission. The Wizarding world had been under some vague sort of enchantment; Harry had freed the Malfoys with some vague sort of incantation. The two just had to be connected, she was sure of it.

Add to that, she was upset. Whatever this enchantment was, it had affected her. She, who prided herself on her self-control, on her ferocious intellect, on her refusal to accept any intellectual nonsense, had been under some form of mind control. It rankled.

How had she missed it? Her mother had even commented, "you've mellowed, Hermione, it's good to see," and she still hadn't got it. But then, she thought, perhaps it was like some effect she had read about in a psychology book once – the Dunning-Kruger effect, if she remembered rightly – which said essentially that the same skills were needed to be intelligent and to recognise intelligence; so, as she had rephrased it in her head, a touch unkindly, 'stupid people were too stupid to know they were stupid'. And people under mind control didn't know they were under mind control, precisely because they were.

But Hermione was too smart to let this line of thinking descend into bitterness. No, when she looked at the last few months coldly and dispassionately, she had to admit that they had been some of the happiest times of her life. And really, the only things that had been missing were her tendency to run quickly to outrage – not her best trait – and her evangelistic zeal on things like house-elves and other creature rights.

The same fanatical zeal she now poured into the knotty problem of Harry's words back in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. And she had plenty of time to herself; the Auror trainees were now being used to guard minor parts of the Ministry, and Ron had swapped duties to manage to get away for the weekend of the wedding. As a result, he was now expected to work late and also had a guard shift for all of Saturday.

So Hermione spent her nights cogitating on the mystery that was Harry Potter. She would have gone and interrogated him about it, but for once she didn't feel in command of her argument. And she knew that he was busy working on his Muggle Studies project, so decided to leave him alone until the weekend.

In the end, she realised that it took the whole week precisely because it was so obvious that her mind kept rebelling. Luna had been spot on: it was all about Harry. More exactly, it was about Harry and the three Hallows. It could not be co-incidence that he had had the Elder wand and the Invisibility Cloak, and the wand had summoned the Resurrection Stone. Clearly, then, some magic had happened that required the power of all three Hallows united, together with the only person who had ever survived the Avada Kedavra curse.

So far, so good. But what about the spell itself? Harry had said that he 'just mumbled words out loud' way back in May. To him they were; but obviously they weren't 'just' anything of the sort. Now of course, any old words said with any old wand were unlikely to achieve anything; but these words were said with the most powerful wand in existence, a Cloak that could allegedly hide from Death itself, and a Stone that could bring back the dead. What effect would that have, she mused.

Then there were the words themselves. "Life … Wholeness ... Connection ... Belonging …" Eventually it dawned on her that they weren't random words at all. They were a straightforward statement of the deep longings of Harry's soul. She sat in her lounge room after work one afternoon and began to meditate on each of the words. As she did, she started to see how they arose from Harry's childhood; how much of his adult life, and of the recent history of their world, was still being driven by his horrible relatives.

Life … As Hermione now knew only too well, Harry had never really had much of a life. The Dursleys had certainly seen to that! And even so he been prepared to give his own life for all the Wizarding World. He hadn't told many people that he had not expected to survive; but she knew. And so clearly Life was an important word for him. More than that: a deep desire of his, that everyone should have life.

"Of course!" she yelled, causing Kreacher to run in to see what the matter was. She apologised to him, and went on meditating. Of course, it was that word 'life', and the desire of Harry's heart behind it, and the power of the Elder wand, that had brought Fred back.

'Why just Fred?' she wondered. Not, of course, that she begrudged him at all; but there were plenty of people who were more important to Harry, surely: his parents, Sirius, Remus, and Tonks, just off the top of her head. Or even Dobby perhaps. So, again, why Fred?

She couldn't really answer that, so she went on.

Wholeness… Again,not something he had got from the Dursleys, who starved him and beat him, never offering healing or nutrition. Or was she overthinking it? There was, of course, George's ear: the magic had healed him and made him whole.

And then it hit her. The magic had indeed made George whole; but to do that, Fred was needed. And suddenly, Fred's being brought back to life was not a strange choice at all, but practically a necessity. All of the other people she had thought of would be sadly missed; but George needed Fred in a way that none of the others was needed.

Connection … It was obvious how little Harry had connected to the Dursleys. She knew Vernon had been shipped off somewhere, but had no idea where, and Harry never spoke of it. No, Harry was not connected to them. But he was now connected to Teddy, and Andromeda, and the Malfoys, and the Weasleys … And her …

And then, another breathtaking moment as it became clear that these things were not just about Harry, they really were about all of them. The life, the wholeness, the connection, had spread through them all, and changed them all.

For they had all been through a war, but there were, when you looked at it dispassionately, ridiculously few repercussions. Where were all the people suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, like she had read about Muggle soldiers suffering from after their wars? She vividly remembered the pain from the Crucioes she had suffered from Bellatrix's wand when they had been captured; but somehow, once everything had settled down, it had completely lost its sting, so much so that she had been able to return to Malfoy Manor without a second thought about it.

And where were all the nightmares? Sure, she knew Harry had plenty, but they certainly didn't seem to be a big problem for anyone else. She should have them, surely, and Ron? But they both had slept soundly ever since they'd moved into Grimmauld Place, which was pretty much their own now that Harry and Draco were living at The Lodge.

Above all, where were the recriminations and revenge-taking? Somehow they had managed to avoid huge pogroms against the Pure-bloods. To be sure, they were much less influential than they had been; but the sky had not fallen in, violence had not been wreaked against them, and they seemed to be accepting that things had changed and, if the truth be told, had escaped from the War largely intact. There had not been punitive fines levied against anyone; nor had people been sent to Azkaban without a damn good reason. Hermione had been particularly proud of Harry for managing to avoid the 'Death-Eater = Evil' equation, and have people tried for the deeds they did, not the groups they belonged to.

As a result, their society was visibly coming together. People were losing their fear of one another. Fred and George's shop was booming, but so was Zonko's; even though the latter's products were no match for the twins', there was clearly room for both of them in the need people felt to have fun, to lighten up, to play with one another.

Belonging …Yes, it all added up to that. Looking back, it was hard to miss that 'belonging' was the bedrock of Harry's angst, and his dreams. He had never belonged at the Dursleys'; but, she realised, he had never really belonged in the Wizarding World, not as himself. He had a place, to be sure, but as the Boy Who Lived or the Destroyer of Voldemort. She'd watched him with Draco, and like Harry she had realised the simple truth at the announcement of their pregnancy: Draco loved him. Not for any of his titles, not for his wealth; she had thought at first he would love Harry because Harry had set him free from Voldemort's curse on his magic, but now … Now, it was clear that he loved Harry, not for the things he had done, but simply for himself.

Harry's magic, the Hallows' magic, had forged a world for him in which Harry belonged. And his heart was so big that it was a world that they all belonged to, as well.

She sat, alone, in the drawing room of Grimmauld Place on Saturday morning, thinking about how it made her feel. On the one hand, she loved where the Wizarding World was going. To be sure, not all of the battles were over; but they were so much better off than they had any right to expect to be. On the other hand, some of her freedom had been taken away from her. The old Hermione would have been livid about that; what was more precious than freedom? Why else had she started the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare than to get the house-elves free?

The old Hermione. What about the one now? She was, she thought, a bit wiser. On the other hand, she decided, she was still up for a good rant.

She gathered a handful of Floo powder and fire-called The Lodge.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER-MALFOY!" she yelled, and was ridiculously pleased to hear a gulp from the other side of the fireplace.

ooOOoo

Narcissa Malfoy had left the wedding a woman on a mission. Returning home to Malfoy Manor, she and Lucius had talked at length about the small, interrupted conversation that he and Hermione Weasley had had with Harry during the wedding. Unlike Hermione, who had to reason everything out, it was immediately quite clear to Narcissa that the words Harry had spoken and the enchantment that had recently lifted were one and the same thing. Also unlike Hermione, Narcissa, having been brought up as a pure-blood, was not in any way fettered with ideas about fairness. While she resented the fact that Harry's actions had curtailed her freedoms, this was not because it was unfair, but simply because it was not her doing the curtailing. As a Slytherin, she had nothing but admiration for the power of her second son – his words had become more powerful, and longer lasting, than any similar magic she could think of.

But the enchantment had lifted; the Debt was still there, of course, and would modify Lucius and Draco's actions, but it did not directly affect her. She was free to do as she pleased. And what pleased her most was to increase the wealth and prestige of the Malfoy family. She knew perfectly well that that freedom came with the responsibility to do the right thing; not out of a sense of fair play, of course, but out of sheer self-preservation: the clear lesson to be drawn from the fall of Voldemort was that if the nobility did not do the right thing, they would be overthrown.

And the right thing was not to quietly accept the plans that the Minister had outlined for Harry the previous week. No, definitely not, she decided. She spent a good deal of the Monday thinking about it, and placed a Floo call.

"Molly?" she said as the Weasley matriarch took her call. "There's something I think we should do …"

ooOOoo

Ivan Karkaroff had left Gringotts well-pleased with how things had turned out. The goblins, once they had realised that he was not to be trifled with, had readily agreed to his requests; indeed, they seemed to have considered them to be quite reasonable. As a result, his finances, and those of Durmstrang in Britain, were on a more solid footing than he had expected; and he had been able to visit the Ministry and get reinstated as an Honored Visitor to the British Magical World. Durmstrang's standing in the Wizarding World had rather slipped since he had officially died; this new standing was rather important for him if he was going to get it back to its former glory. And, he mused, do better than that. He could admit now that he had been a tyrant before, and that had not gone down well in many quarters. He was quite sure that his new views on education would change that.

And that was not the only change he had secured. He now had agreement from the best curse-breaker he had ever met to come and give lectures to his students, with the full backing of said curse-breaker's employers. Meeting Bill Weasley had been a wonderful opportunity for him, and he was grabbing it with both hands. The man had even agreed, excitedly, to accompany Karkaroff back to Berenice for the Winter Solstice, and perform the Ritual of Darkness with him. While that would not be as interesting as The Map of the Worlds ritual that could be performed at the Summer Solstice, he was hoping it might give them more information about the Spheres.

He finished the day by travelling to Hogwarts, as himself this time, not Ivan Smetana. The visit had, of course, been prearranged as a meeting of School Heads, so Headmistress McGonagall was on hand in here office to greet him.

"Headmaster Karkaroff!" McGonagall exclaimed as he came through the Floo. "I am delighted to see that you are back with us again, and are looking quite yourself."

Karkaroff arched an eyebrow. "Careful, Headmistress," he remarked coolly. "That was almost a joke."

"Ah," a voice said behind the Headmistress, "I fear some of my lamentable sense of humour might be rubbing off on poor Minerva. But Ivan, it is nice that you are back in the frame; and I hear from my contacts that you have some different ideas about teaching?"

"Yes, you must tell us about those," McGonagall said, taking charge from the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, who, even in death, seemed to dominate every conversation. She led Igor over to her comfortable chairs and they spoke at length about what he had learned in Egypt, and how he was planning to put his lessons into practise.

Eventually there came a knock on the door.

"Enter!" Mcgonagall called crisply, and Anders Anderssen and Stefan Ivanov, the two Durmstrang students, came in.

"You wished to see us, Headmistress?" Anders asked her, then did a double-take as he saw who was with her.

"Professor Karkaroff!" he exclaimed. "Then it is true! You are still alive!"

Karkaroff smiled at him. "Indeed," he said. "And I will be taking up Headmastership of Durmstrang again."

"Excellent!" Stefan said, but Karkaroff noticed that Anders did not seem so pleased. Hardly surprising really; knowing the boy from his days as Ivan Smetana, as he did, he knew that Anders was a gentle soul – a milksop, he would have said before his epiphany in Egypt – and had always been rather frightened of the Headmaster.

No more, he decided. He smiled at the boy, a warm, genuine smile, and was secretly pleased at the look of mixed confusion and hope that came back at him.

"Now, Anders," he said softly, "I know that we have had our differences in the past; but I have some new ideas on leadership, and I think you will like them."

"New ideas, sir?" the lad asked tentatively.

"Yes. Although not so new to you, perhaps as we have already discussed them."

The two students looked at him, disbelief on their faces, clearly both wondering when they had discussed any such thing; but the looks changed to dumbfounded as their Headmaster happily changed into a very familiar figure.

"I'm afraid," Ivan Smetana said to them, "that I will no longer be at Hogwarts – but from what I have seen, the Professors here will take very good care of you."

ooOOoo

Wednesday 18 November

It was ten o'clock on Wednesday morning before Narcissa could put her plan into action. That did not surprise her; in fact, if anything, she was rather shocked that it happened so quickly. Two days after Molly had agreed to approach Arthur, the two witches found themselves in a very swish room in the secretariat of the Ministry of Magic, meeting with three of the most powerful people in the Wizarding World – Kingley Shacklebolt, Minister for Magic; Arthur Weasley, his deputy with special responsibilities for both Education, liaising with Hogwarts, and Muggle Relations, liaising with the Prime Minister; and Elphias Doge, Chief Wizard and Head of the Wizengamot.

Once the obligatory tea and cakes had been provided and enjoyed, the Minister started by inviting Narcissa to share what she had to say. That was the last point at which any of the men had any control over the proceedings.

"Thank you, Kingsley," Narcissa said, and though her voice was warm, her eyes had a rather predatory gleam in them. "Molly and I have been thinking about what you had to say about Harry. If I remember rightly, you asked us to consider how we might work together to encourage him into a job in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, with a view to moving him through it swiftly and becoming the new Minister for Magic when Kingsley steps down. Is that broadly correct?"

"Yes," Doge began, and clearly would have said more, but Molly neatly cut him off.

"Oh good," she said sweetly, "we did want to make sure there was no misunderstanding." And here the sweet tone evaporated as she continued, "gentlemen, Harry is not a fool or a pawn who needs 'encouraging' into anything!"

At these words, Arthur sat bolt upright, and no doubt would have said something soothing to his wife; but the two witches had anticipated that, and with a gesture, Molly invited Narcissa to continue.

"I know that you think you have a plan that is best for our world," the blonde woman said, "but Harry has been pushed and manipulated all his life. Dumbledore left him with those vile, despicable people –"

"I'm sorry, my dear?" Doge interrupted, clearly not understanding the reference to the Dursleys.

"Not nearly as much as you should be," she replied, and then went on to explain all that had happened by Harry being left on his aunt's doorstep; the cupboard, the food – or lack of it, the forced labour, being made to cook and not eat …

"And that's not the worst of it," she said. "The Dursleys were at least honestly hostile. Albus Dumbledore was worse – a great man, perhaps, but a manipulative one, who pretty much forced Harry down the road to sacrificing himself …"

An hour later, having heard a brief, but entirely truthful, survey of Harry Potter's school years, it was a very chastened trio of wizards who sat opposite the two witches. At no time had Narcissa raised her voice; but the steel in it was unmissable. In some ways, each of them thought, it would have been better if she had ranted and raved; it was much harder to deal with the cold anger she projected.

"Very well," Kingsley said, "what do you advise?"

"ADVISE?" Molly all but shrieked. "What do you need advice for? Isn't it obvious?"

By the looks on their faces, it wasn't; so Narcissa continued.

"I know it's hard to think of it this way," she said, her tone brisk and brooking no nonsense, though not unkind, "especially since he and Draco are still at school, but Harry is an adult. It's quite clear that he values your friendships; but you must leave him to make up his own mind what he wants to do. Encourage and support him, of course; even suggest careers for him, if you must. But do it in the open. Nothing covert, nothing underhanded, nothing manipulative."

And with that, the meeting ended, and the two women returned to the Manor, where they were joined by Andromeda Tonks and Margaret Granger for a light lunch.

"How did it go?" Margaret asked as soon as they were all seated.

Narcissa's eyes twinkled. Much to her surprise, she really enjoyed the company of the Muggle woman; her no-nonsense, direct manner was a breath of fresh air compared to the rather stuffy pure-blood circles Narcissa had moved in before the War.

"Oh, I think we got the point across," she said archly.

"You really think we got through? We weren't exactly subtle," Molly asked.

"They're men. They don't need subtle; they are trying to be, and that's the problem. But I think we got through. Time will tell."

ooOOoo

Three rather shell-shocked wizards chose to have lunch in the Merlin Club. This was, after all, one of the most private and discreet venues available; and they all felt they needed to retreat away from watching eyes and lick their wounds after having been rather savaged during their meeting with Narcissa and Molly.

Once they had ordered, the Minister spoke first.

"Gentlemen," he said, "I don't know about you, but I feel like we just got ambushed."

Arthur shook his head and sighed. "I apologise; I really was not expecting such a meeting at all! Especially not from Molly!"

"Nothing to apologise for," Doge replied, shaking his head. "I must say that, while it's good to see the Weasleys and Malfoys are getting on, there is a definite downside to this new found unity!

This remark brought chuckles from the other two, which was what the Chief Warlock had been hoping for.

"Yes, I can see that this could be quite dangerous to poor over-worked Ministry staff," Kingsley replied; the other two did not miss the glimmer in his eye that told them he was joking.

"Nonetheless," Doge continued, "we must face up to the fact that we got nothing less than we deserved."

"It pains me to say it, but you're right. It's obvious that no-one has ever let Harry be Harry; well, not since Albus Dumbledore took it upon himself to ship him off to his aunt and uncle," Kingsley said. "I must confess, it rather rankles – I knew he was a manipulative old so-and-so but that did sound rather extreme."

"Are we quite sure of the facts?" Doge asked, his voice mild, though the other two were well aware that there was a good legal mind there, and Elphias would be determined to act only on proven facts.

"I think so," Arthur said. "Everything that we were told fits with what I'd seen before; the fireplace, the bars …"

Here Arthur went misty-eyed for a minute or two. At this point, their meals arrived; once they had been served and had dismissed the waiter, the other two quickly pulled him back to the present, demanding explanations; and so Arthur filled them in on his visit to the Dursleys' house, and the things he had heard from his children over the years.

It was a very sombre trio that left the lunch table mid-way through the afternoon. They had much to think about; but at least they did have a plan of action that they were all agreed upon.

ooOOoo

Saturday 21 November

Draco Potter-Malfoy woke up feeling like he was in Heaven. True, he had spent the week back at Hogwarts, and it had been yet another week of drudgery: making potions for the Hospital Wing; writing up his notes from before Blaise and Angelique's wedding; marking a ton of assignments that Borage had collected during the week; supervising the fourth-year Ravenclaws; and invigilating some quizzes given to the first years.

But none of this mattered a jot because of the simple fact that every night he went to sleep, and every morning he woke up, safely held in Harry's arms. Even when waking up had been followed by a bolt to the loo thanks to morning sickness, he had been helped and cleaned up and cuddled by his long-suffering, uncomplaining husband.

And now, after the week spent in the castle, they were back in the Lodge, with no responsibilities until Monday. Now that Harry was no longer in the Auror programme, he was dividing his days between working on his Muggle Studies project, assisting the Defense Professors, and helping Draco whenever he could. Not that Borage let him help much; Draco was, after all, an apprentice, and needed the experience. But he did allow Harry to perform some of the more menial tasks that might have interfered with Draco's pregnancy – particularly where potions needed to be made whose fumes could be dangerous.

Draco smiled as he kissed the famous lightning-bolt scar that was still visible on his spouse's forehead, though now much fainter since the defeat of Voldemort.

"Mmm..." Harry said as he came awake. "Do we have to wake up yet?"

"Of course not," Draco confessed, "but I thought perhaps I could make it worth your while…"

In answer, his husband rolled over on top of him and began to kiss all over his face.

"I love you, Draco Lucius Potter-Malfoy," he said between kisses.

"Mmm..," Draco moaned happily, his eyes closed in bliss. "I love you too, Harry James Potter-Malfoy."

Harry's left hand moved down Draco's torso as his right hand stretched out absentmindedly to retrieve the wand from the bedside cabinet. Draco's eyes sprang open as Harry effortlessly cast their usual preparation spells.

But before they could get any further, a demanding voice rang out from the Floo connection.

"HARRY JAMES POTTER-MALFOY!"

Harry gulped. It was Hermione, in full fighting mode. He wondered, for a moment, if they could pretend not to be there. But he knew it wouldn't work, and groaned as he pulled on some clothes and went to face the music.

ooOOoo

As Harry entered the Floo parlour, the primary feeling he had was relief. He had known at Blaise and Angelique's wedding that Hermione was going to grab him for an in-depth talk sometime soon; she had had that "you are going to tell me all about this, Mister" look in her eyes that, he realised, he hadn't seen for quite some time. He was under no illusion that she would have forgotten about the issues raised at the wedding; the fact that the conversation hadn't happened during the week probably only meant that she was busy at work and respected the fact that he and Draco had been equally busy studying at Hogwarts.

"Come through, Hermione," he said, opening the wards for her with a simple wave of his hand before walking through to their sitting room.

As she did indeed come through into The Lodge, Hermione was rather shocked. It seemed that Harry really had changed a lot; in former times, using his full name in her most peremptory tones as she had would have had him quaking in his boots and anxious to appease her. As she entered the sitting room, a small smile played around her lips. She approved of this more balanced, confident Harry; but he wasn't going to have it easy. No, she decided, she was going to have fun.

ooOOoo

Draco decided that Harry and Hermione needed a little time together. That was, he told himself, the only reason that he took his own sweet time getting out of bed and getting ready for the day. He was not, in any way, afraid of the bossy brunette Muggle-born. The very idea was laughable.

All of this self-confident talk was completely shattered the moment he walked into the sitting room. Hermione spotted him instantly, and her gazed fixed on him so thoroughly he almost felt she would bore holes in his head with it.

"Draco!" she announced, "Good! You can tell us about that red light."

Draco carefully and slowly sat next to his husband,

"And good morning to you, too, Mrs Weasley," he said, falling back on good manners.

"None of that!" Hermione said, understanding in an instant what he was doing. "It's Hermione to you."

Draco nodded, but said nothing. Hermione could feel that the blond was at least a little afraid of her, and inwardly smirked at the thought. But she carefully schooled her face in a neutral visage, not wanting to scare him off.

"Now," she continued, "Harry and I have been discussing the events of the last few months…"

Harry snorted, drawing the attention of the other two.

"Sorry," he said, clearly not sorry at all. "What Hermione really means is that she's been telling me about them, and I've been nodding and learning."

"But you admit I'm right?" Hermione said fiercely.

"Right about what?" Draco asked. Hermione immediately turned to face him square on, and Draco knew he was in for a rant. The only thing that stopped him from fighting it was the look of relief on Harry's face, which was (fortunately) not visible to Hermione; clearly Harry had been given quite an ear-bashing. So Draco decided he needed to grin and bear it, for Harry's sake if nothing else.

"It started when Harry returned your wand," she began, and then went on to explain things from the point of view she had seen all week – particularly about the loss of freedom that had followed.

"That's all very well," Draco said, when she first drew breath – and he was privately quite impressed that that had taken her a good ten minutes – "but can you honestly say that we are worse off than we would have been?"

And here, for the first time, Hermione's righteous anger seemed to falter. She looked down at her feet.

"That's the problem I have with myself," she said, much more softly than before. "I have to admit, things could have been so much worse. We've seen our society pretty much come together within months, and there's been incredibly little blame spread around."

"Exactly," Draco agreed. "And isn't that due to what Harry did?"

"Yes," Hermione replied slowly.

"So what's the problem?"

And here she looked back at him, the fire returning to her eyes.

"It's the principle of the thing!" she replied. "People's free will was compromised by what Harry did!"

Ah, Draco thought. Here it is.

"And," he said softly, "what about Harry? Did he mean to do this?"

"No, of course not," she said. "He just wanted to give you your magic back."

"So it wasn't his free will, either?" Draco pressed.

Hermione looked at him a little confused. "No," she said, and it was obvious from her tone that it hadn't really occurred to her to see things in this light.

"Well," Draco said, "if Harry's free will was compromised too, I don't really see that you have any call to come here and yell at him."

Hermione's cheeks flushed bright red.

"You're absolutely right," she admitted, and turned to her oldest Wizarding friend. "Harry, I'm sorry, I…"

But she did not get any further as Harry leapt at her from his seat and pulled her into a bone-crushing hug.

"Hey!" Ron's voice called from the Floo parlour. "Harry and Draco, have you seen Hermione? She's gone, and she hasn't even had breakfast yet."

Harry smirked. If Ron still thought about food so much, their world really was returning to rights.

"Yeah, she's here," he called out. "You'd better come and join us for breakfast."

ooOOoo

Breakfast was a very lesiurely affair indeed; in the end, the Weasleys spent the whole morning at The Lodge. Hermione did question Draco further about the red light that he had seen, though Ron did insist the discussion wait until they had eaten.

After breakfast, they rugged up and went for a stroll in the garden in the weak November sunshine, and Draco shared his memories again; though there was not much more than he had said at the wedding.

"Hmm," Hermione said, imbuing the monosyllable with a great deal of thoughtful meaning. "I have been looking up this idea of using magic without spells…"

"Of course she has," Ron muttered, but his wife ignored him.

"… and I've found there are a few documented instances of it. It seems to have gone by the label of 'unstructured magic', and is generally associated with very powerful wizards indeed."

Harry blushed at this, but the other two wizards looked entirely unsurprised.

"And what did it involve?" Draco asked.

"Well, that's the interesting thing," Hermione said. "Having struck a blank on male pregnancy, I find that two of these episodes actually resulted in it. It's quite exciting, though it's early days in my research yet; but perhaps you may be able to do something for Neville…"

At this point in their walk, they turned a corner to see a vista of flowerbeds lined by hedges, ending at a gate that gave on to fields beyond.

"Your gardens are beautiful!" Hermione gushed, before a thought struck her.

"Harry," she asked, "who does the gardens?"

Harry gulped. "Tiny!" he called, and the little elf popped into view.

"Yes, Master Harry?" she asked. "How can Tiny be helping the Potter-Malfoys?"

"It's Twinkle who does the gardens, yes?"

"Oh yes, Master Harry!" she answered promptly. "Twinkle loves to garden!" And then a note of concern crept into her voice, "Is they alright for the masters?" she asked, looking around and seeing bare trees and no flowers in the bed. "It is being nearly winter…"

"They are lovely, Tiny," Draco said kindly. "Twinkle?" he called, and the elf popped alongside Tiny. "We are very happy with your work in the gardens. Are you happy to do it?"

"Oh yes, Master Draco!" the elf replied fervently. "Twinkle is very happy to work the gardens! And he is being working at the Manor as well!"

The old elf was so obviously ecstatic at this turn of events that even Hermione was smiling now.

Draco turned to her.

"You see?" he asked. "They really adore serving."

"Yes," the creator of the Society for the Protection of Elvish Welfare had to admit, "they really do. Mine you, you'd better treat them properly or …"

"Yes, yes," Draco said, "I get the message. Let's return to the house; it's time for morning tea already."

ooOOoo

When they got back inside, they found they had another visitor.

"Mr Weasley!" Harry said as soon as he saw him, and rushed up to him.

In past times, Arthur Weasley had been a little loath to be physically demonstrative with Harry; he had really felt unsure of what to do with the boy. And after their conversation a few days ago, he was feeling even more uncertain than ever, so proffered his hand. Harry ignored it completely and gathered his surrogate father into a hug.

Arthur, emboldened by Harry being so demonstrative, returned the embrace quite firmly, and did not let go until Harry started to pull away.

"Please," he said, "Harry, you're my son. Call me 'Arthur' or 'Dad'!"

"It's good to see you, Arthur!" Harry said as they broke up. "Come and have tea!"

Once they were seated, Draco asked where Molly was.

"Ah, that's the thing," Arthur admitted. "She's gone shopping. She doesn't know I'm here; and it might be better to keep it that way."

"All right, Dad," Ron said, recognising his father's guilty nervousness at once, "what have you done?"

"Ah," Arthur said, "it wasn't just me, I'm afraid. And I'm not sure if I should say it in front of you all."

"I really think you had better, now," Draco said, a touch sternly.

And with that, he launched into an explanation of the meetings that he had been to – both the first one, including both Malfoys and the Professors, and the second one with just Molly and Narcissa.

"So you see, Harry," he finished, "I hope being so open about it will help you see that I really do think we were not doing the right thing, and I want to make sure you are given the chance to make your own decisions."

"Thank you, Dad," Harry replied; and the tears in Arthur's eyes made it clear he understood the depth of forgiveness and trust that Harry had for him.

"More tea?"

ooOOoo

They Flooed Molly and the Malfoys later, and had an impromptu family lunch.

"Thank you, Tiny," Lucius said as the little elf expertly opened the bottle of elf-wine he had brought. He poured it out for Narcissa, Molly, Arthur and himself; Draco refused, being pregnant, and Harry refused in solidarity with his husband.

Once their glasses were filled, Lucius looked at the other parents with a rather sneaky smirk on his face.

"I hear on the Ministry grapevine that the three of you had rather an interesting meeting on Wednesday?" he said.

Arthur looked at him a little sternly. "And just who has been speaking out of turn?" he asked.

"Oh, that would be telling," Lucius replied cheerfully. "But let's say that when the Minister and Deputy Minister have a morning meeting and disappear afterwards for most of the afternoon, it does tend to get remarked upon…"

Arthur sighed. Well, he knew he was going to have to 'fess up at some stage.

"I suppose you could say it was interesting," he said, more calmly than he felt. "And Harry and I have had a little chat about it. It seems that we were walking down a road that perhaps wasn't the best, and Narcissa and Molly kindly set us straight."

As he expounded a little more, Molly beamed at him. She knew her husband was a wonderful man, of course, but it was nice to see that he was humble enough to admit when he was wrong. Narcissa smiled, too; it was good to see that the message really had got through.

And Draco? Draco watched his husband carefully; it had been a very emotional morning, after all. But in the end, Harry was pleased. It seemed like they had talked through all of the manipulations that had arisen from his impulsive actions in the Hogwarts Great Hall in May. Maybe, just maybe, things might settle down now …