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Survivor's Guilt	By : SpeedyTomato Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Lucius Views: 34080 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 4
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter nor do I make any money of this dark dance of Harry Potter fanfic.

Chapter List
- 19
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Chapter 20

Beta'd by the amazing Tenchi. Thanks, Tenchi, you're the best!

Reading through the parchments as Lucius finished and handed them over, Dudley nodded. “This is good. I like it. They've done well with this proposal,” he said as he finished what was written on one, passing it over to Draco.

“It's quite good,” Lucius admitted, leaning back in his chair. Per his usual habit, he glanced over to where Harry was standing at the window, looking out. Quietly, he asked, “Are you sure that you don't want to see what they are purposing Harry?”

Shaking his head, not looking in Lucius' direction, Harry just leaned against the window jamb and looked out at the park across the street, arms folded over his chest.

Letting out a barely perceptible sigh, the older man ran his fingers through his hair. Seeing Dudley look at him, concerned, he just gave a helpless shrug. It had been three months since the suicide attempt. Though Harry was better in that he wasn't planning to take that step, at least from what Dr. Netherwood said, the depression wasn't going away. He would participate, get out and do things, something most would see as normal, but he was quiet and withdrawn, not really wanting to go beyond his home unless he was cajoled into doing so. Nor were any of the potions the doctor had tried him on working. That worried Lucius and Dudley more than anything else. Though concerned and not able to say too much, Dr. Netherwood told them not to let it bother them too much, that they were working on it. These things just took time to work through. After all, Harry didn't get in this place overnight and it would take time to get him back to where he was getting better. Lucius understood that, but that didn't mean it didn't bother him.

Shaking his head, looking at the last piece of parchment with the required amount of names to get the bill before the Wizengamot, he nodded, “They've done well getting this far. The interviews that have started in the paper are powerful and the list of people that they have willing to talk to the panel to try to get it passed is good.”

Tossing aside the parchment he just finished, Draco sighed and sipped his Coke. Shaking his head he told the two, “I don't fancy the chances of getting this passed. Everything they've tried up until now has failed, no matter how many people or experts come to talk. This time—they have good timing doing it, that's for sure, and invoking all the suicides that came out of the war is the way to go, but I don't see that bunch of idiots on the Wizengamot willing to listen any more than the ones in the past have. They're too happy to keep their heads buried in the sand and ignore it.”

“It's the truth, though, and they can't deny it,” Dudley interjected firmly. “We've known for years that it has nothing to do with weakness. You lot supposedly see yourselves as better than Muggles, but still subscribe to that rot? It doesn’t make sense why they wouldn't admit it finally.”

Lucius was about to explain that when Harry's voice stopped him. Looking at the younger man, he waited to see what he had to say.

“The Wizengamot, like the rest of the Ministry, doesn't give a damned about the truth or what is right, just what is most convenient for them and what will keep them right where they are, thus getting paid. That's never changed. Rather than educate anyone about what is right, they fold and go by the old prejudices because that means they don't have to deal with something tough,” Harry snorted, shaking his head, not looking at any of them.

“Harry, they can't ignore evidence like what they are presenting,” Dudley argued softly, pleased that his cousin was actually participating, at least a little.

Snorting, rolling his eyes though none of them at the table could see that, he told Dudley dryly, “This is the same body of government that ignored the fact that Voldemort was back and took to going after anyone that said otherwise. They don't care about truth, Dudley.”

Though flinching at the name of the long dead maniac, Lucius sighed then said, tone resigned, “Harry is right on that topic. As long as some of the old guard is on that panel and want to keep the cushy jobs they have, they are going to pander to the easiest solution and go in that direction rather than do what is right then educate the unwashed masses about the illness.”

Shutting his eyes and leaning his head forward against the glass, Harry sighed. His mind was skipping backwards to one of the more painful instances of Ministry idiocy and injustice; Sirius. That old hurt over his godfather, and his death, was bubbling back up and he didn't know how to stop it. Shaking his head, he straightened up, muttered some excuse and walked out of the room.

All three men watched Harry go, each with various signs of worry on their faces. Shaking his head, Dudley said, “Something has to give, somewhere, and make this change. Arthur and Molly have the right idea here. They also seem to be going about it the right way.”

“They are,” Lucius told him with a firm nod. “They're also making damn certain that they have plenty of time to pull this off before the proposal gets voted on, a very good idea. Using that time to educate in the paper, like they are doing, is the way to go. Bringing in some of the names they are to help is also going to be an immeasurable assist.”

Reading the final parchment, the one with the names of those that had killed themselves, Draco rubbed a hand over his face, shaking his head, feeling ill. He knew almost all of these people to varying degrees, but one stuck out; his old friend Pansy. She wasn't on the main list, of the ones that had fought in the battle then took that step, but she was on the smaller list at the bottom of those that had as well. That made him ill. She, like him, had made plenty of mistakes and wrong decisions, something that had affected her over the years. Shoving the list aside, looking dour, he sipped his drink then shook his head. “I didn't even know some of them were gone! I never heard they had died.” Softly, he added, “Pansy was one of them. I mean—I thought Astoria and I would have heard about her.”

“Her parents, well, her mother anyway, would have kept it quiet, Draco. They are one of the old Pureblood lines that wouldn't have wanted it known that she had killed herself,” Lucius explained softly. Shaking his head, he added, “With her father still in Azkaban, her mother would have done everything in her power to keep it quite so as to not add more shame to an already tarnished name.”

Not having thought of that, Draco rubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed. Looking at the parchment, he said, “I knew almost all these people. Some I knew well, some I didn't. It's sickening. I—well, I heard there were a lot of them that had killed themselves, but I didn't think it was this many! I mean, most of them died a hero's death, if what is always touted was right. Since then, well--” Trailing off, he wasn't sure what to say.

“I know,” Lucius nodded, sipping his own drink. “It's been hidden. Most don't realize how many have died in this way.” Stopping, he said, quietly, “Everyone needs to be slapped by more than just the names. Names in a paper are easy to ignore. They need someone big, someone they can't argue with or profess is weak to smack them upside the head with a beaters bat to get them to see sense.”

“And the only name that might work is the one you don't want to draw into this because it'll make what is already there worse,” Draco added, looking at his father.

Looking between the two, Dudley asked, quietly, “Harry?”

“Harry,” Lucius confirmed with a nod. Sighing, he explained, “Harry's name still carries a lot of clout in our world, even a decade after this mess ended. He is considered one of the greatest hero's of our world for what he did. However, pulling him into this mess, despite how much it would help get something like this across and assist in passing badly needed legislation, would open a Pandora's box that we don't need. The Prophet alone would go after him once more. With what he's dealing with, it would only make the situation worse. Nor would anyone that knows him pull him into it without his consent.”

“I would help if I could, but no one would listen to me,” Dudley told him with a shake of his head. “And the minute I opened my mouth, everyone would know who I was talking about. That wouldn't be a good thing either.”

“No, he needs to be kept out of it,” Lucius said with a firm shake of his head. “He's suffering enough over the war still, he doesn't need more added to that.” Leaning back, running the fingers of both hands through his hair, he sighed, “I don't know what to suggest to everyone to help with this. I know Arthur, though it was hard for him to do, was hinting that some kind of advice would be welcome, but I don't know what to tell him. They are doing it right and going about it the correct way. They just need to keep pushing and slap people in the face with the ugly truth and keep doing so until their cheeks are bruised. Then, maybe, they'll listen or question. Beyond that—I don't know. The only other thing I can think of is in the spring and the ceremony at Hogwarts. If Minerva can, somehow or other, direct part of it towards focusing on the victims after the war ended, it might give them the push they need as this bill will come up in the session that starts a week after that milestone. However, the backlash from that for her, personally, would be immense.”

“I don't think she would worry about that, father,” Draco snorted, grinning. Shaking his head, “Only a very foolish person would take on Minerva McGonagall and think they could win.”

“Very true,” Lucius conceded, snorting. Picking up a quill, he added that suggestion to the one parchment Arthur left that they had a few other ideas on. “I'll let Arthur work with her and see what she says. That's all I can think of on my end.”

“I don't know of anything other than having someone, somewhere, go through the years of Muggle research on suicide. There is a ton of it out there. To even start doing that would take forever and a day,” Dudley shrugged. “I would say get one of our experts that specialize in it, but your lot wouldn't listen to them.”

“We're one of very few countries that take this stance, Dudley,” Lucius told him, looking disgusted. “There are plenty of Wizard experts in it as well we could get. It's just getting the Wizengamot and public to actually listen that is the issue here. And that I don't know how to manage.”

Shaking his own head, Draco said, “It's a case of leading the hippogriff to water but not being able to force him to drink. We can say whatever, and that has been done before, but you can't make the idiots listen to reason. It's easier not to deal with it.”

Thinking that over, Dudley shrugged, “Sorry, mates, I don't know what to suggest here. The only way I know to go about things like this is the Muggle way with a publicity agent to push. I don't know how you lot work with things like that.”

Looking at Dudley, Lucius nodded slowly then added that to the list for Arthur to look into. “I'm not sure who they would get to help, but it might be worth looking into. They might know the best way to go about this.” Tossing the quill aside, he leaned back. “At least there are some suggestions that might help them. The rest—nothing Draco or I would say would help in any way. Our name is still mud and would actually probably be detrimental to the cause so it's best we stay out of it.”

Shaking his head, sipping his butterbeer, Dudley said, “I'll help all I can, let them know that, but I don't think it'll be anything they can use.”

“I’ll let Arthur know,” Lucius nodded and sighed, not sure what more to say.

Standing in the open door to Sirius' room, Harry looked in at the mess that was there. There were only two rooms in the house that he hadn't touched since redecorating; this one and Regulus'. He had given Regulus’ room to Kreacher to stay in, something that made the elf happy and this one—he hadn't even been able to even clean it up after Snape went through it that one time to find what he could of his mother.

Shutting his eyes, looking down, he rubbed the bridge of his nose. It was late, probably about midnight, but he couldn't sleep. Since growing accustomed to the potions that he was taking, so much was coming back, along with the pain from it. Sirius was one of the topics that was the worst he had always dealt with. The guilt over his death had stretched on for years now and he knew no way to combat it. Realistically, he knew he wasn't responsible for his godfather's death. Bella had cast the spell. Sirius had made the choice to be there. There were many things that happened which he wasn't responsible for. However, it was his mistake and him not learning to Occlude that had led to the circumstances. That was something he couldn't let go of. He had never been able to.

Lifting his head, he stepped into the room and looked around, feeling his eyes burn as he did. Of all the people that were gone, Sirius was the one that he missed the most. They didn't have much time together, but what they did he cherished. His godfather was the one person that had always loved him, no matter what. He always stood up for him and would have done anything for him. Like himself, Sirius had a rotten family and had a worse time, but he had been steadfast when it came to him.

Eyes scanning the room, he took in the mess, dust and blaze of Gryffindor colors then felt one tear start to slip down his cheek. Shaking his head, he whispered, “I'm so sorry, Sirius. I miss you.”

Lowering his head, his let his arms drop to his sides, fists clenched. All that hurt over that death so long ago welled up and drove something that had been missing in him for so long; his temper. He clenched his teeth as an old familiar wave of anger swept through him. Hissing, he spat, “You damned snake-faced bastard! I hate you! I hate you!” Stopping, snorting, eyes ablaze for the first time in so long, he let out an agonized cry then picked up the first things he could get his hands on, a pillow off the bed, and threw it. Temper unabated by that, he grabbed something else, a small trinket off the bedside table and hurled it, letting out a scream. Still, that didn't help. Fists clenching and unclenching, he looked around. His eyes locked on the mirror over the dresser. Seeing himself there, someone he didn't like to look at a lot of the time, he let out a loud scream then walked over and punched it with both fists, shattering it. Blood starting to flow down his arms where the shards from the broken mirror cut into his flesh, he continued to hit it, screaming.

Lucius had been peacefully sleeping, well as peacefully as he could manage, something that wasn't easy with some things from his past, when he was jarred awake suddenly by Kreacher saying his name, shaking him.

Tensing up, rubbing his eyes, he looked at the elf, then asked, feeling his gut already clenching, “What's wrong?”

Tugging on his ears, panicking, not sure what to do, Kreacher said, “Master Harry is in a right state! Mr. Lucius needs to come help! Master Harry has hurt himself and is bleeding all over!”

Galvanized, Lucius snagged his wand then piled out of bed. “Take me to him,” he ground out, looking determined.

Nodding vigorously, Kreacher grabbed the man's arm and popped them into Sirius' old room

Immediately tense at the destruction he was seeing, Lucius didn't know what to make of it. This room was one Harry made clear he didn't want anyone in, ever. Having honored that, he wasn't sure what the room normally looked like. However, there was plenty of destruction he was sure that had just happened. Glancing at the young man who was kneeling on the floor, head down, his eyes widened. Both of his arms were covered with blood. Panicked, not sure what it was from, he looked around and spied the remains of a mirror that had blood splatters on it. That was what he thought happened. However, he wasn't going to concern himself with that part either. Harry needed to be checked and he probably needed help.

Hurrying over, he crouched down in front of Harry, trying to get a good look at his arms, which he had folded against his chest. Gently, keeping a smooth tone, he said, “Harry, what happened? Let me see your arms.”

Starting to rock back and forth, hugging himself lightly, Harry felt his eyes start to burn then the tears came. Letting out a strangled sob as memories of Sirius flooded him, he couldn't seem to do anything else. Fists clenched tightly, he rocked slowly, shoulders shaking.

Starting to panic, Lucius knelt down and as gently as he could, with shaking hands, tried to pull Harry's arms away from his chest to get a look at them. Heart hammering in his chest, not sure what was going on, he managed to get one arm pulled away enough to get a look at it. Seeing the gashes, he winced. Oh, this was beyond what he could do. Putting a hand on Harry's head, stroking it, he looked at the wide-eyed Kreacher and instructed, “Go get Draco. Tell him it's an emergency and to bring his bag with him. When you get back, I have someone else I need you to get.”

Looking determined, the elf popped away after nodding.

Focusing back on Harry, Lucius conjured a couple of towels then wrapped them around the now sobbing younger man's arms. Not sure what to do, he started to stroke Harry's head again.

Sobbing louder, Harry leaned forward, resting his head on Lucius' shoulder. Body shaking, he didn't know what to do other than this since he didn't think it was possible to stop the tears right now. He wanted to impart that it was an accident, that he didn't mean to hurt himself, but the sobbing wouldn't stop.

Sliding one arm around the sobbing younger man, Lucius patted his back, letting his other hand drift up to rest on Harry's head. Not sure what to say or what might be behind this, he told Harry softly, “I'm here and am going nowhere.” Shutting his eyes, he hoped the elf would hurry with his son. He didn't know what to do beyond what he already was and needed help. Not to mention the injuries needed to be treated.

Wide eyed, Draco dashed into the room, still in his pajamas, clutching his medical bag. He didn't know what in Merlin's name was going on. All he knew was that Kreacher came to get him at his father's insistence. That didn't bode well.

Seeing Potter and his father on the floor, both of them looking like they were fairly well coated with blood, he went pale. “Father?” He asked, softly, stepping close.

“See to his arms,” Lucius told his son, still holding on to the sobbing Harry.

Nodding, Draco knelt down and began to unwrap one arm, wincing at the cuts. Starting to pull things out of his bag, he asked, tone quiet, “What happened?”

“I think he hit the mirror,” Lucius said, head jerking in the direction of the dresser.

Looking at the shattered remains, Draco shook his head and went to work. “Just hold him still while I work with this.”

Nodding, Lucius looked at the pale elf standing there then said, “I need you to go get Dr. Netherwood. Tell him it's an emergency.”

With a determined nod, the elf popped out.

Working on the deep lacerations on one arm, Draco asked, glancing at Potter as he leaned against his father, sobbing, “Was it another attempt?”

Shaking his head, keeping hold of Harry, stroking his back, Lucius replied, “I don't know.” Looking around the room, seeing the destruction, he muttered, “I don't think so. I'm not certain what happened or what the intent was here.”

Nodding, Draco glanced around while he worked then asked, softly, “Whose room was this? Was it his?”

“It was Sirius',” Lucius told him softly.

That put much into perspective for Draco and he nodded. Shaking his head, glancing around, he made certain to work quickly. Once he was done, he was going to have to dump plenty of blood replenisher down Potter's throat, that's for damned sure.

Still not sure what to say or do for Harry while Draco worked, Lucius just continued to rub his back while he continued sobbing. However, he was most relieved with he saw a robe clad Dr. Netherwood step into the room. At least the man would know what to do and could figure out what happened.

Stepping out into the hall after spending some time alone with Harry once Draco patched him up, Roddy smiled at the two. Both were splattered with blood, not their own, of course, and looking panicked. Quietly, he said, “Kreacher took Harry up to bed. He'll probably sleep most of the night so there is nothing to worry about.”

“What happened?” Lucius asked, rubbing his eyes. He was off-kilter over the incident and not sure what was going on.

Smiling bigger, Roddy told him, “Harry lost his temper is what happened.” Lowering his voice, still smiling, he explained, “Let's call it a big breakthrough and one of the best signs we've seen so far.”

Slumping, Lucius sighed in relief and nodded.

Looking between the two, he said, “Go get some sleep. Everything is fine and it's nothing to worry about. I'll come over tomorrow and check on him, but this was a big step in the right direction.”

Rubbing his eyes, hand trembling, Lucius said, “Thank you for coming over.”

Nodding, Roddy said, “Sleep, Lucius. There is nothing to be concerned about.” Motioning for Draco to follow him, he gave Lucius a pat on the shoulder and led the way downstairs.

Watching the two go, Lucius looked into the room. Sighing, he then looked up at the ceiling. Heart still hammering though starting to calm, he headed up in that direction. Sleep wasn't going to come, that he knew, but he could sit with Harry. That would make him feel better.

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Survivor's Guilt