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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
- 3
- 4
- 5
Chapter 4

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

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Stopping just inside the wards of Grimmauld Place, Harry glared back and waited until he saw Lucius pop away before relaxing slightly. Oh, he was furious about this. Mostly, though, it was with himself over it. He should have known that Dudley would insist on something like this, it was normal for him after all, and just left when Malfoy slid across from him. That way, he would already have been home. Hell, he was sure that Dudley wasn't coming by that point anyway, that something had come up making it to where he couldn't make it. Shit like that did happen. It was just... well... that he felt so alone anymore that he was willing to wait to talk to the one person that he was a little close to.

With a sigh, he shook his head then pulled out the cell. Dialing Dudley, he waited until he answered then said, voice sounding tired, “I'm home Dudley. And, mate, tomorrow we need to talk about just who that jerk is you sent me with 'cause that's not happening again and we need to avoid him or I'll get in real trouble.” Stopping he listened then said, “No, Dudley, it's not a biggie. No one can get in here because of the wards unless I let them through. They can't even see the place so it's not a big deal. I just need to explain to you about him is all. I've known him since starting school and he wasn't one of the good guys. It's nothing to worry about though. It can wait until tomorrow. Enjoy your company and don't worry about me. I'm going to find something to eat.” After saying goodbye, he hung up then slumped and rubbed his eyes. He was so tired and didn't need this shite on top of everything else.

Walking into the house, Kreacher was there to meet him like always. Giving the fawning creature a wan smile he said, “Can I get some sandwiches or something light for supper please, Kreacher? I just want to sit out back and eat there. So, no need for anything big, alright?”

Nodding enthusiastically, Kreacher said, “Of course, Master Harry! Kreacher will do that. What would Master Harry like to drink?” That's where the old, wizened house elf looked at his master with some concern. Even Kreacher could tell his young master had imbibed enough alcohol when he was out to be drunk. Like any good house elf, Kreacher was worried about what he saw in his young master and saw the amount that he was consuming as something troubling. It wasn't his place to say something, though, and wouldn't. He would abide by Master Harry's wishes.

With a heavy sigh, Harry shook his head then gave the house elf that was the only living being he had a great deal of contact with anymore a shrug, “How about some butterbeer? Maybe tea? Something like that.”

Relieved, Kreacher nodded then popped away to make up something he knew Master Harry would like.

With a heavy sigh, Harry walked through the house, tossing his cell on the table by the stairs. He would have to remember to put it on the charger before he went to bed. Without even looking around, he made a beeline for the back door then out to the tiny space that one could call a backyard. Like so many places in London, it was little more than a small strip of grass enclosed by a massive fence. Unlike with Muggles, though, this has been magically expanded to where it was decent size. It was big enough by this point that when Teddy came over to visit they could fly a little and swat quaffles around. Tonight, though, despite how flying used to relax him, he didn't have the energy or inclination for it. Instead, he just flopped into a chair and stared morosely at the ground. With a heavy sigh, he slouched in the chair then rubbed his eyes in a weary way.

When he first moved into Grimmauld Place after the war, he had set out to make the house how he wanted it to be. Gone was the screaming portrait of Sirius' mother, the house elf heads and other dark things that had been contained in it. Hell, he had practically had the place gutted then redone to what he wanted. After all, he had the money to do it and felt that, after all he had gone through, he deserved it. It was, after all, now his. Though the outside was still as dark and imposing as it always had been, the inside was a bright and cheery place that was done to his tastes. It, like the backyard, was what he had wanted to make it, a space where he would be happy and comfortable, a home for him. Now, though, none of that brought him any joy.

It had been his thought, when he started the renovations, he could banish so many of the figurative ghosts that haunted him after the war. For a while, it had worked. He was as happy as one could get and he had what he had longed for. Ginny and he were going good, he had the Weasleys and Hermione as a family, gone were all the rumors along with the stupid crap that he had to put up with at school before then. Things were perfect, or so he thought. As time wore on, though, that changed. At about the one year anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, something, he didn't know what, had changed. All those ghosts he had been trying to banish from his life seemed to come back. Nor did he know why.

Because their schooling had been interrupted by the war, everyone that would have been in their 7^th year at the time went back to retake classes to get the proper education and graduate. For Harry, looking back, he thought that the graduation ceremony had been the trigger. It wasn't that he was troubled by moving on, that part was great actually, but the part where they did a huge thing in remembering those that had fallen during the battle at the ancient school that did. As he sat and listened to that then how he, Hermione and Ron, with the help of so many others, had ended the greatest evil Britain had ever seen something changed in him. There was sadness, of course, as anyone would expect. Hell, he had lost so much and so many to that bloody war that you knew it had to happen, but it was more than that. It was like a fundamental shift in him after it was over. Something that seemed to change everything. And he couldn’t go back from there.

Quickly, after graduation, he and Ron were supposed to go into Auror training. That was something they had planned all along, gearing towards that since they had a pass to get in without having to worry about some of the qualification to do so. With what they had done, Kingsley, still the acting minister, was going to let them in and make sure they got the special training they needed in any weak areas. When the time came, though, he couldn't do it. His want for hunting dark wizards was gone. Too many of those he cared about were gone for him to want to risk any others over it. No, he had declined. It didn't take him long to figure out that the Aurors, and the ministry in general, wanted him more than he wanted to do it. Kingsley himself, when he found out that he didn't want to go in, had come to try to persuade him to. Harry wasn't going to budge. It was just something he couldn't do. However, in the end, they had come to a compromise. He had become an Unspeakable, thus making him still a ministry worker and making things look good while he didn't have to do something he didn't want to do. It was win/win for all parties. In the end, though, it hadn't helped much.

From his foray in the place during that nightmarish cluster in the Hall of Prophecy, he had known it was a place that studied the greatest mysteries of their time. That had appealed to him. In fact, he had wanted to understand the one thing that had eluded him, so he, after training, had gone to work in the Death Room to study and, hopefully, understand why so many that didn't deserve it passed away. In fact, he had thrown himself into his work so much that everything else suffered because of it. His relationship with Ginny had been one of those things.

Ginny... that was something that was still a touchy subject with him. He loved her, still did actually, but not in the way that he should to marry her. They were going to wait for her to graduate from Hogwarts to get married but, as that time drew closer and people were starting to poke him about plans to do that, he found he couldn't force himself to even contemplate it. He supposed that everyone had doubts before taking that step. Hell, he had listened to Ron's for a long time before he and Hermione had taken that step. In the end, though, he couldn't force himself to do it. It wasn't that he didn't love her, because he did, but he had finally come to the realization that what he felt for her was more like she was a sister than anything else. He was willing to go there to get the family that he had longed for since he had met them not because he wanted to marry her. Nor, in the end, could he tell her that outright. Instead, he had buried himself in his work and just put it off until the end came. No, there wasn't a blowup of any kind, nothing like that, but it had come because she had been tired of waiting for him and deserved him to tell her she could move on. It had taken several long talks with her, ones that had always been kept between them, a lot of tears on her part but she had accepted that it wouldn't happen. They were still friends, good ones at that, but the romance was gone. He had a sneaking suspicion that she understood things better than he had at the time. Along with that, it was probably pretty telling that they hadn't done more than some heavy snogging and petting until then. So, it had ended.

After that, there was a period of strain between him and Ron once more over it but it, too, had passed then things went back to normal there. Hermione, of course, had accepted it and his decision on the matter. He supposed, with the way she was, she might have understood things better than any of them at the time. Also, because of her being, well, her, she had kept people from getting too upset about it, being able to probably explain what was 'off' more than he could. Hell, she probably understood it better than he, himself did! For that, he would always be grateful to her. She was the one that he could talk to about some things and get it across without explaining it too much then feel better afterwards. She was still one that could be overbearing at times but she was just Hermione and was there for him, one of the great rocks in his life.

After all that, well, things had settled down into what only could be called routine for him. Work, going out once in a while, spending time with his friends or the Weasleys, spending time with Teddy and normal things everyone did in their life. Honestly, looking back, he didn't really notice a change for a long time. He supposed, the fact that he wasn't interested in a relationship with anyone and balked at the very idea was a sign of something but he didn't know. After Ginny, the idea just didn't appeal to him. He knew that he was odd for a male, in that sex, and trying to get it, wasn't an overwhelming urge but he didn't see it as an issue. It wasn't until after he and Ginny had been over for a couple years that he finally lost his virginity. It was to a man no less. He supposed that was about the time that he figured out he liked men as much as he did women and the sex really didn't matter. In the Wizarding world, it didn't matter to anyone like it did in the Muggle one so that eased his mind on that somewhat, he just kept it to himself. The need for a new relationship, however, wasn't there. There was something holding him back from that, though he didn't know what at the time.

About five years ago, Dudley had come back into his life. It had been one of those oddly strange things. Molly Weasley, a woman that still loved him with all her heart despite what happened with Ginny, had come over one day with a letter for him from his cousin. Harry had been stunned. What Dudley had said to him before they had parted ways the final time at Privet Drive was something he had always held up hope about. No, not that they would be close friends, or even have a relationship of some sort, but that he was changing for the better. Honestly, it had taken him a couple days to get the courage to open the letter, almost afraid of what it had to say. In the end, though, he had and was glad of it. It had been a long letter but the sum of it was Dudley wanted to try to establish some kind of relationship with him after all these years. He understood, finally, what he had been like when he was growing up and was sorry for it. Still, it had been hard, he had gone to university and made his way in life. He had friends, however he had no one in particular in his life and finally wanted to get to know his cousin. Then he had apologized for everything, including his parents. Honestly? That letter for Harry was like a lifeline of some kind. It was as though, for the first time, he felt he had some family. Of course, he had responded.

The relationship was slow to form, starting with just letters, but had grown. They went out and did things together after a while. Harry met Dudley's friends, a better class of beings than he had ever had at Privet Drive, then Dudley, much to his surprise, had wanted to meet his. That, too, had gone well. It appeared, that in the years apart, his cousin had grown up because he was a well mannered man that accepted what Harry was and those around him. Hell, they had even gone to a Weasley dinner together. That Harry liked and was one of those bright spots in his life he would always cherish. He had not only the family he had always craved but a friend in his cousin that he could talk to about things. Hell, Dudley had even been working on a reconciliation between the rest of the family. That was taking time though. There was too much water under the bridge for that to go easily in any way. Nevertheless, it was being worked on.

Even though the coming of Dudley back into his life was a good thing it coincided with something that wasn't; the fifth anniversary of the awful events at Hogwarts that bad year. As would be expected, there was a big deal over it. Harry, up until then, was used to the publicity that surrounded him and anything that he did. With all that was planned that year, it had come back, including the rehash of so many events that he wished he could just forget. And, of course, the reporters were back on his ass over it, wanting to talk to him or get a fresh take on something so defining in their world. From his end, he didn't want to rehash such things, honestly. It just dredged up a bunch of painful hurts and things he didn't want to think about, reopening wounds that he didn't want to deal with. So, he had gone into something of a seclusion during that time, only showing up for the memorial at Hogwarts to honor the fallen and heroes that had saved them all. It was during that, listening to stories of what had happened from other perspectives, that something in him had shifted and he didn't know what.

Before that, he had been somewhat reclusive in the Wizarding world, that was a given with his job and hiding from his 'fan club', but had gone out once in a while. After, though, he didn't. He avoided most things in the Wizarding world unless it was work and things like shopping for stuff that was needed, sticking to the Muggle world for most entertainment. Even then, though, that had begun to taper off. Some had to do with his friends. Hermione and Ron had children by then so that took up a lot of their time, leaving not as much as they used to have for such things. Neville had a career that consumed his time. Luna, too, was married. The list went on and on with that. As he didn't have as much fun going out by himself, not being the social type, Harry spent most of his time at home other than forays out with Dudley. If he were honest with himself, though, he would admit that, by then, things were changing and he had no real desire to go out and make merry with anyone. He just didn't feel like it. Things he had once enjoyed were falling by the wayside, replaced with a darkness that seemed to be growing.

By then, his job wasn't helping at all. Death had become an obsession with him. He would have admitted that to himself. Work helped him explore that. He had learned, when starting to work in the area he was, that they tended to rotate people out of that job after so much time to combat stress and depression over the topic. However, he had managed to stay on it. Part of it was his name and reputation. They had assumed that he was made of tougher stuff than most. Then there was the fact that he was dedicated to it. Each time that time period came up to where he should have been transferred, he managed to stay where he was. It was frustrating, though, because he wasn't getting the answers he so craved, just more questions and a deepening mystery about the subject. That will to understand, however, was still there. Along with that, something else was growing. That darkness in him seemed to be spreading and when he was near the veil he could hear the voices calling to him louder, almost beckoning him to join them. He remembered that from the battle there but this was different, more overpowering. He ignored it though, understanding that many heard it like he did and didn't listen to the siren song. As time wore on, those beckoning calls were becoming harder to ignore.

Over the years, he had grown more reclusive, only going out now and then, not liking to be around others much. It wasn't that he had grown apart from those he cared about; he just needed to deal with some things on his own was all. Most of that time was spent locked inside Grimmauld Place alone with Kreacher, not really wanting company. He read, worked on things he wanted to, stuff like that, not really feeling lonely. That, too, though, changed.

Since the beginning of the year, Harry would admit that the darkness that always seemed to have been there was growing in him. Those figurative ghosts that he had tried to banish from his life were back. Along with them came the second guessing of so much he did, rehashing of mistakes, wondering what could have been done different, etc. It was becoming, for him, as all consuming as his work. There were so many mistakes he made, so many errors in judgment that had cost him, and others, more than he could count. Because of those things, some had even lost their lives. The trail of bodies left behind him, from Sirius to Dobby and many others was a long one. He knew, realistically, he wasn't to blame for the real thing, the real end for them, someone else had hands in that as well, but, in the end, most of it fell on his shoulders. The guilt over that realization felt like it was eating him alive like some malignant cancer. Nor could he banish it. All he could do was keep replaying those mistakes over and over. Nothing ever came of it either. No resolution, no easing of the guilt, just more recriminations for being stupid and putting people he loved in danger. The worst, though, was realizing that his parents sacrifice, that he could live, resulted in him costing others their lives or things just as bad. And there was nothing he could do to make it right either. If someone were attached to him in some way, he was going to make them suffer and probably lose them in the end. That was self proving by now. He had a mile long list to back it up.

At those realizations, he began to have a hard time. Guilt made it to where it was hard for him to function. Things he adored doing, such as flying or spending time with his friends, no longer had an allure and just weren't worth the effort to even attempt. The whole world seemed to be shrouded in shades of gray and he took no pleasure in anything anymore. Everything felt so hopeless, so... wrong. He wasn't going to let that show, however. He stuck his Harry Potter mask on and went about his day, interacting as those that knew him felt he should even though he felt like an imposter doing so. Each day it was becoming a harder struggle to even get out of bed or get moving. When he finally managed, he was lethargic, snappish and just generally out of sorts. Even the most mundane of tasks, things that one did every day without thought, were a struggle for him and he spent most days just wanting to go home then hide in bed with the covers drawn over him, wishing that he could fall asleep and not wake the following day. It was his assumption that all this was his own fault, a punishment for what he had done and mistakes he had made so he bore it out, trying to move on the best he could. It was so tiring though and he didn't know how much longer he could continue to do so. The energy to keep going just wasn't there. Nor was the will to battle to continue. It was all just so... hopeless.

In the last few weeks, as talk in the papers became more frequent about the big anniversary event that would be held on the day the Battle of Hogwarts ended that he realized something. Harry Potter, to most of the world, wasn't a living being, he was a myth they clung to, like heroes of old. He had done what was needed of him, what they had all expected of him and now that need was over. He had outlived what he was supposed to do and hadn't moved on at the appointed time. It was his thought that he had defied fate in some way by living through the battle and what he felt now was the punishment for that. That meant that he, too, should be moving on like the rest that had lost their lives in that war. Harry Potter was better off being a legend rather than a living being.

Leaning his head back, he rested it against the chair and shut his eyes, a small smile appearing on his face, something that hadn't happened for so long. He had, finally, come up with the solution. Now, he just had to put some things in order and he would, finally, be out of pain.

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Survivor's Guilt