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The Aftermath of War	By : ReighHPFiction Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Lucius Views: 29579 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 15
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling, Warner Bros., and other assorted publishing, producing companies. I do not make money from writing this story, as I do not own any of the rights to the characters or canon plotlines.

Author's Note : Damn this chapter was hard to finish! Everything just kept getting in the way. My job has been ridiculously busy because we've been so short staffed that I NEVER get out on time. Then on top of it all, I have to take a lot of work home with me because I just don't have the time to do it during the day. I'm sorry this took forever and that it's not super long, but this is what I've got for you now! I'll try to update again as soon as I can. I've finally got my spark back for writing after months and months of stress induced physical and mental exhaustion. Please remember that this is unbeta'd, so forgive the little mistakes here and there that I missed. I'll try to clean it up at a later date.
Anyways, on with the show!

Title : The Aftermath of War
Warnings : Slash, Ginny-Bashing, Anal, Oral, Rim, H/C, Future M-Preg, Un-Beta'd
Pairings : Lucius/Harry, George/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Narcissa/Kingsley

Chapter 11: Progress
It was another month before all of the funerals were over, at least for Harry. He'd been invited to a few more, mostly from students who had died in the Final Battle. How could he not go? They'd died so that he could defeat Voldemort. By the end of the month, Harry was emotionally drained. He holed himself up in his suite at Malfoy Manor and didn't come out for a few days. He knew the others in the house were worried, but he just couldn't find the drive to get out of bed. Everything that had happened since the Final Battle was whirling around in his mind like a hurricane wreaking havoc on his emotional and psychological stability.
He found himself waking up most mornings wishing he hadn't…wishing it had been him who had died and all the others had lived. He wallowed in those feelings, letting them consume him without a second thought. Then…he got to a point where he just knew what he was going through was not something he could beat on his own. He was going to need help. He wasn't sure he could open up to a stranger, knowing that most people out there would sell that story to the Prophet as soon as they could, doctor patient confidentiality be damned. However, there was someone in this house that had offered him a listening ear. Sucking up his courage, Harry walked through the corridors of the Manor until he made it to Lucius' office. The older man had given him his space after that embarrassing drunken kiss Harry had forced on him. For that, Harry had been grateful. Being as embarrassed as he was by his actions as well as being confused by Lucius' lack of rejection, were some of the things Harry was having difficulty processing. There was just too much going on his head. He needed to talk to someone.
"Enter," Lucius' smooth voice called from the other side of the door after Harry knocked.
Harry timidly moved inside, closing the door behind him and trying to tame the rapid beating of his heart in response to being alone with Lucius once again. There was nothing he could do for the fiery blush settled on his cheeks though, especially after the older man looked up at him with surprised grey eyes and a slight quirk to his full lips.
"Harry…it's good to see you. It has been a while," the Malfoy Lord said, gesturing for Harry to take a seat in the chair by his desk. Harry did so, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves.
"Yes…I know…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to avoid you I just…"
"It is alright. What you are going through is very confusing, and you have many more things to deal with than just that. I understand."
Harry was relieved to hear that Lucius understood his situation, and that he wasn't upset by Harry's avoidance. Because even though Harry was mortified by his behavior after Snape's funeral, he had thoroughly enjoyed kissing Lucius Malfoy and he couldn't deny that he was attracted to the man anymore. At this point, it was a matter of figuring out if it was a good idea to act on those feelings or not. He needed to work out exactly how he felt, of course, and he needed to figure out if doing this would lose him everyone he ever cared about.
"Well, that being said I'm still sorry. I was drunk and I shouldn't have forced myself on you like that. I also shouldn't have avoided you, it's not very mature," Harry said earnestly. It earned him a chuckle and a dismissive wave of Lucius' hand.
"Even though there is no need to apologize, and you certainly did not force yourself on me, I will accept it," the other man said.
"Thanks…Um…The reason I'm here though is that, I…I made a decision about everything. I…I don't think I can do this alone. I think I need to talk to someone before everything inside me spirals dangerously out of control," Harry said, trying not to be embarrassed.
He'd always been the type of person who handled things on his own. He'd had no choice growing up, there was no one there for him in his early years. Then, at Hogwarts he had friends, but they were all his age and could not possibly understand what he was going through. Maybe Ron and Hermione had a little more of an idea, since they were usually part of his yearly battles against Voldemort, but Harry had never wanted to burden them with his feelings about everything. Now that everything was over, Harry was embarrassed that he was not dealing with this on his own well. He had gotten through so much on his own. He'd managed to get past most of the scars of his upbringing, though there were some messed up teachings of his childhood still firmly engrained in his mind. The Dursleys had always said people who went to see shrinks were psychotic freaks. Vernon had threatened on more than one occasion to send him to an Asylum.
"I see," was Lucius' reply, breaking Harry out of his thoughts. Grey eyes were looking at him with mild concern in their depths, and Harry knew from his time living with the man so far that if he could see mild concern in any Malfoy's expression, the feeling behind it was ten times more.
"I…I have been having some thoughts that frankly have been scaring me. I..I don't think I can fix this on my own," Harry said, fidgeting with his hands nervously as Lucius assessed him in silence.
"I will not pry, if you do not wish to tell me, but Harry…you must know this concerns me very much," Lucius said, his unveiled honesty a slight surprise.
Harry knew that over the last month or so since he'd moved into Malfoy Manor, the family had become close to him regardless of their past. He knew Narcissa cared for him, even if she was always cool and composed no matter what was happening. He knew Draco cared for him, as they had become good friends during his stay here so far. He knew Lucius cared for him, as bizarre as that was considering their history, because Lucius made every effort to comfort Harry when it was clear he was struggling. Still, when one of them outright told him they were worried or cared about his feelings, it surprised Harry.
"I wish it were me….all those people died…but I got to come back? It's not fair. So many of them were so young. They had families who loved them. And I get to come back? The orphan? I just….I can't stop this guilt I feel and every funeral I attend only makes it worse. But I can't deny them! Their child or mother or sister…or father, that person died so that I could defeat Voldemort and it kills me inside!" Harry said, not realizing that tears had started rolling over his cheeks.
He watched Lucius stand from behind his desk and come around to kneel at Harry's level. Large, soft hands came up to wipe tears off of his face then swept through his hair in a soothing motion. Grey eyes looked into his steadily before the older man spoke.
"You are not to blame. None of this was your fault. It was Him. It was all Him. Those people did not die because of you. None of you would ever have had to fight if He never existed. You cannot think of it as your or them. Those people stood up to fight for what they believed in. They knew what might happen to them if they did, and they still chose to do so. In the end, He is responsible for every death and you must not think your life was any less valuable than theirs," Lucius said in a calm steady tone.
Harry just stared at the other man, not knowing what to say. Even though logically, he knew that Lucius was right, his rational mind was being overtaken with guilt and depression. He couldn't help he way he felt.
"Do you think no one would have missed you? What about your friends, Granger and Weasley? How do you think they would have felt if you had died that day? Think of how they reacted when you told them what you were going to do in the Forbidden Forest that day," the older man continued.
Harry remembered the look on Hermione's face. She'd been devastated. It looked like her whole world had come crashing down around her and like she would never be happy again. Ron…who had just lost his brother, looked as if he'd surely shatter at the news that Harry would have to die in order to defeat Voldemort.
"Think of how they greeted you when you returned. Think of how they have depended on you since. You would have been well missed, Harry Potter, do not ever think otherwise. Yes, others died. Families are grieving, but your death would have caused just as much grieving if not more. Think of Molly Weasley, losing her son in the battle. How do you think she would have handled your dying so soon afterwards?"
With those final words, Harry felt himself suddenly missing the warmth of Lucius' presence so close to him. He looked up to see the man sifting through a book that said 'Contacts' on the cover. Harry's thoughts returned to Lucius' words. The man was right. If Harry had died that day, it surely would have broken the Weasley family in two so soon after Fred's death. Molly and Arthur considered him as one of their own children, and the boys all considered him a brother.
"I have the name of the family's Mind Healer here. We have all been talking to her since the war ended and I believe she would be more than happy to see you as well," Lucius' voice said, breaking Harry out of his thoughts once again.
Harry looked up to see Lucius holding a piece of parchment out for him. When he took it, he looked down to see a name Mary Worthington. Looking back to the man behind the desk, Harry wasn't sure what to say. A part of him wanted to rush back to his room and call this woman right now. Another part of him was thinking that he didn't know her, and wasn't sure if he could open up to someone he didn't know. Then there was that last part of him, quieter than it used to be, that screamed all the awful things the Dursleys had beaten into his head since he was a young child. Would he be a freak if he had to see a healer?
"In the first few sessions, she will not pry for anything very deep. She is a good Healer. She will build a relationship with you before she starts asking you anything personal," Lucius assured him. Harry still wasn't sure. The older man was definitely picking up on his discomfort with the idea.
"But, if you find that you are too nervous to speak with a stranger, myself and my wife are here to listen. We didn't go through what you did, but we did lose a lot in the war. If you feel comfortable talking to either one of us, we will arrange for you to do so on a regular basis," the man offered quietly.
Harry wasn't sure how he felt about that either. While he didn't know what Narcissa had gone through during the war, he could tell whatever it was had been devastating enough to end her marriage and cause her great pain. She wasn't overly emotive, but sometimes when she wasn't paying attention, Harry could see the sorrow behind her usually unreadable eyes.
"I…I think I would be more comfortable with you. I mean, Narcissa is going through a lot too and she's trying to form a new bond with Andromeda…I don't want to add to her problems. I don't know what you went through, or how you're handling it. You're a hard man to read. But I think, if we had more time to get to know each other, I could talk to you," Harry said honestly, looking at Lucius.
While Harry trusted Narcissa and Draco more than Lucius at this point, both of them had so much they needed to work through he would never ask them to deal with his issues on top of it. Lucius, well…he seemed to be dealing with his lot in life well, and while Harry didn't entirely trust him, the way that Lucius jumped to comfort him every time he freaked out made Harry think that he could. Lucius had this calm collectedness that made Harry relax no matter how close he was to a meltdown. If they just knew each other a little better. If Harry could know the man behind the stony façade. He believed he could come to trust Lucius.
"Well, I can guarantee that Cissy would not feel that way about it, but if you feel you can talk to me I will be more than willing to help. Why don't we meet again in three days? We can talk about what you've already told me today. Think about what I said to you, and come back with your thoughts on the situation then," Lucius said. Harry nodded his head. That would give him just enough time to wrap his head around the idea that Lucius Malfoy was going to be his therapist of sorts.
"Now, why don't we go and have something to eat. You could stand for a hot meal and some time to wind down," Lucius offered. Harry simply nodded, rising from his seat and following the older man down to the dining room. Things were still confusing. Everything was still a jumbled mess in his head, but Harry felt a little bit better knowing there was a set plan to work everything out.

Narcissa Malfoy nee Black was at the Ministry with the Malfoy Family Lawyer filing for Harry's suit against The Prophet. She hadn't bothered telling the boy about it because she could tell he had been struggling with a lot as of late. The last thing he needed was to worry about this business with The Prophet. Miles Thompson, the man who had been the Malfoy Lawyer since he drew up the marriage contract between Lucius and Narcissa, had promised that he would deal with as much of the case on his own as he could. Harry would only have to come in for the final hearing in court, and testify on stand.
When they finished filing, much to the outrage of the Daily Prophet's representative who had been present, Narcissa bid farewell to Miles and found her way back to the main corridor of the Ministry. She could floo home from here. A deep voice calling out her name caused Narcissa to turn abruptly, sending flaxen curls over her shoulder. Her crystalline eyes widened in surprise as she saw none other than the Minister of Magic himself jogging up to her with a smile on his face and a question in his eyes.
"Lady Malfoy, it's good to see you again," he greeted, extending his hand to her.
"Minister Shaklebolt, to what do I owe such an exuberant greeting?" she asked with a cock of one of her finely crafted blonde brows as she allowed her hand to be kissed by him. His smile went bashful in a way that a political official should probably mask over with indifference, but for some reason Narcissa found his earnestness refreshing.
"There was something I wanted to speak to you about. Do you have some time?" he asked. Narcissa blinked at him, not sure what to think of all this, but nodded her head in response.
She followed the Minister to his office quietly, wondering what exactly it was the Minister of Magic could want with a disgraced former Malfoy who's only redeeming quality was that she saved Harry Potter's life on the battlefield. That was seen with much ridicule as well, from many, because it was known at the time she'd been searching for her son. People assumed she had done it out of selfish reasons, and she had…but what mother wouldn't do anything to save her child?
"Have a seat, Mrs. Malfoy, this might take a few minutes," the Minister said, breaking her out of her thoughts.
"Technically it is Ms. Black now, Minister, I regained my maiden name after the divorce," she said in that typical cool, smooth as glass tone.
Narcissa sat in the chair on the opposite side of Shaklebolt's desk, crossing her legs beneath her flowing silvery robes and folding her hands in her lap demurely. When she looked back up, she saw the Minister smiling at her with slight amusement from his seat behind the desk. She didn't know what it was he found so amusing, but she couldn't help but notice how warm and welcoming that smile was. Kingsley Shaklebolt was not someone she had been familiar with before the second war, but he was certainly a handsome man with his smooth dark complexion, warm brown eyes, and brilliantly bright smile. Any woman with a set of eyes could see that. Pushing those thoughts aside, Narcissa pursed her lips in an unhappy manner to let the man know she was not pleased with his amusement and would like him to get on with it already.
Kingsley could not help but smile at how perfectly proper Narcissa Malfoy or Black, as she had not so subtly demanded to be called, acted. While the Shaklebolts were Purebloods, his parents had never stressed all the traditions and strict societal rules that older families had. He knew of them of course, his mother hadn't been so blasé in his early education, but she only stressed it when they went to important functions. Ms. Black was ever the poised, perfectly mannered, but subtly sharp tongued pureblood woman raised in the old ways. It was why she was perfect for the project that he was currently working on implementing at Hogwarts.
"I'll cut to the chase because I don't want to waste your time, but there is a new position I intend to introduce to Hogwarts in the coming semester and onward, if it goes well, that I think you would be the perfect instructor for," he said matter-of-factly.
He watched as the cool collected woman before him turned wide eyed, confused, and gaping. He barely restrained a laugh and managed to contain his smile at her shocked expression. She looked much better like this, expression open, eyes shining with emotion. Then again, there was no doubt in the wizarding world even before Voldemort that Narcissa Black was one of the most beautiful witches in Britain. Still, he liked it better when her carefully trained Pureblood mask was absent.
"Minister, what position is this? And how can you be sure that the Headmistress would allow me to set foot in that school knowing what my allegiances were during the war?" the woman asked, her voice still controlled and her expression slowly being schooled into an unreadable mask.
'What a shame,' he thought before answering.
"Well, the first answer is that I am introducing a Magical Culture and Custom program into the school. I believe that to date, the school's education as far as Magical traditions and customs has been seriously lacking, and partially for that reason the rift between Pureblood and Muggleborn was created. Muggleborns come into Hogwarts knowing nothing about Magical Culture, and leave not having learned anything about it. The History of Magic course doesn't cover that subject adequately, since it has so many centuries of material to cover. We have a Muggle Studies course that the children who were born in our culture must take. There should be a Magical Culture course that will help those not born into our world understand it better. Understanding one another is the first step in bridging the gap of bigotry and animosity," Kingsley explained.
Narcissa was floored that the Minister, a man who fought on the Light side of the war, had thought so long on introducing such a class to Hogwarts. But he was right. Many people thought that Purebloods were evil for their traditional views. There was equal bigotry on both sides, and a lot of the reasoning behind it was because neither understood the other. Muggleborns couldn't possibly understand the traditions and mannerisms that Purebloods were raised with in the same way that Purebloods couldn't possibly understand their muggle upbringing.
"I'm thinking that both Muggle Studies and Magical Culture will become mandatory classes just as the original core classes are until such a time that the children pass the O.W.L.S to prove they have adequate understanding of both courses," the Minister continued.
Before now, Narcissa would have written Kingsley Shacklebolt off as the Light's last resort to have one of their own in power. But listening to him speak of revolutionizing the Hogwarts curriculum in such an intelligent way had her reluctantly respecting him. He had clearly given this a lot of thought. The only thing was…Narcissa couldn't understand why she was being asked to be a part of it. Surely there were other Purebloods that were more suited, considering her allegiances during the war. Molly Weasley was one, even if she didn't pay much attention to tradition, Narcissa knew the Prewets were not a Pureblood family that slacked in the traditional education of their children. Amos Diggory could certainly do a fine job at teaching this course.
"You have not answered my second question, Minister," she replied looking at him with sharp crystal colored eyes and a hard expression that bade no nonsense.
Shaklebolt looked as if he were trying to remember for a moment, and Narcissa restrained an irritated huff at the man's lack of professionalism. He was much too excited and she needed an answer to that very important question of McGonagall's acquiescence before she even thought on this matter.
"Oh yes, well I'd say that she's all for it considering that she was the one who suggested you as a possibility," the man replied, shocking Narcissa once again.
She may have to leave soon if he continued to do so. She wasn't sure she could keep her composure if there were any more surprises in store…or if this all ended up being some sort of malevolent joke. While Narcissa knew logically that the Minister of Magic certainly wouldn't play some ill-advised prank, the wary part of her was finding it hard to believe that this position was being offered to her after everything her family had done in the war.
"You don't believe me, but it's true. Minerva is a very perceptive woman, Narcissa, and she was once your teacher. She always knew you didn't want any part of Voldemort, but that your hand was forced by your husband, and later on the safety of your family. This is the time when people like us, figureheads of the war from both sides, need to band together and show the world that prejudice is not okay no matter who it is directed at. You may have been on His side, but you were little more than a victim yourself," the man explained.
Narcissa was struck speechless by his words, but she made sure nothing showed on her face. Minerva McGonagall, one of the pinnacles of the Light, had lobbied for Narcissa to become an instructor of a class that no Hogwarts Headmaster or Headmistress had ever thought of implementing before. She needed to think. It was an opportunity of a lifetime, not only for her personally, but to make a better name for herself and her family. She would do anything to make the world a more stable place for when her son finally went out into it as an adult.
"Minister, your offer is kind, but I regret to say that I cannot accept it at this moment. I will need time to carefully consider this, and I will need to owl Hogwarts myself for a confirmation from the Headmistress that she has agreed to your terms," she said finally, looking at him with an unreadable gaze. The Minister merely smiled at her and nodded his head.
"Of course Ms. Black. I understand completely, but please….consider accepting. You are the perfect person to teach this class. I have no doubt of it and neither does Minerva. Just look how much you've taught Harry in the short time he's been with you. He should've sued The Prophet ages ago," the man said, laughing at his last statement.
"You have my word that I will," she said, rising from her seat gracefully and shaking his hand in agreement.
With that, they bid farewell to one another and Narcissa promised to owl him within a week with her decision. After all, if they were to start developing a curriculum for this new class, it had to be soon. September was coming up faster than anyone cared to think about. Narcissa apparated home with much on her mind. She retired to her quarters for the remainder of the afternoon to send out the required owls and consider all possible consequences, good or bad, of her accepting the position.

Harry held Teddy on his hip as he walked along the shore by Shell Cottage. He'd come here on Lucius' suggestion, to visit Dobby and get some closure on his friend's death. Lucius had told him during lunch, that since he'd already buried Dobby and mourned him some at his small funeral on the beach with his friends, Harry wouldn't have as much trouble coming to terms with his death. Lucius, as always, had been right. Seeing Dobby's headstone at first had been hard. He couldn't help the tears that streamed down his face as he looked at the inscription "Here Lies Dobby, A Free Elf". But somehow, the tears didn't seem as bitter as they had at the other funerals. They weren't tinged with so much guilt.
It was strange, because Dobby really had died to protect him and his friends. By all means, Harry should feel the guiltiest about his death. He just couldn't find it in himself to do so. Dobby wouldn't have wanted that, and in fact, Harry could imagine Dobby banging his head into some Heavenly shelf in the afterlife if Harry ever did feel guilty for his death. Harry always hated it when Dobby punished himself. It wouldn't be right to ruin his afterlife by feeling guilty for a decision Dobby would have said he made as a free elf protecting those he loved. Then, as he was crying, he felt small hands come up to touch his wet cheeks. He looked down to see identical green eyes staring up at him and a little baby mouth wibbling in concern. He couldn't help but laugh, even if it was half a sob, as he pulled Teddy close to his chest and sat before Dobby's grave allowing himself to let go.
When he finally stood, he could see Draco and George standing by the surf with their bare feet caressed by the waves. Harry would never know how George managed to convince Draco to do something so 'Plebian', but he was glad the two of them were slowly putting each other back together. After Fred's funeral, Draco had been a huge part of helping George come to terms with his twin's death. While George wasn't entirely there yet, he was getting to a place in his mind and in his heart, where he would be okay in the near future. Draco was a huge part of that, with Harry and the Weasley Family's help of course.
"Looks like the two of you are having a good time," he said as he walked up to them. The other two men turned to face him, both with some concern in their eyes. There was no doubt they'd both witnessed his breakdown at Dobby's grave.
"I'm alright," Harry assured them before either could ask. "I actually feel a lot better than I have in a long time."
They both assessed him in silence for a few moments before they smiled and shrugged their shoulders. Well, Draco only smiled as much as he ever did, but it was enough to see. The three of them quietly watched the sun set over the sea, the waves licking at their toes until all was dark and the stars glimmered in the sky.
"We're gonna be alright, Harry," George said quietly.
Harry turned to look at the redhead's earnest blue gaze. He knew George was nowhere near okay yet, but hearing him say for the first time that he thought it was possible for all of them to be okay was encouraging. Harry smiled back at his friend, choosing not to comment on the way Draco curled his pale fingers between George's freckled one and squeezed his agreement.
"Yea….somehow, I think we will be," he said, feeling optimistic for the first time in a long time.
It would be a long road to recovery, for all of them, but they all had each other. Harry knew he had an endless source of support from his friends…no, his family. The Malfoys also, would be there for him, and he would be there for them as well. Together, he thought that they could all get through the worst of it. Like George said….they were gonna be alright…eventually.

a/n: Please review! It's what keeps me trying no matter how exhausted I am, reading your guys' encouragement!
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The Aftermath of War