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Survivor's Guilt	By : SpeedyTomato Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Lucius Views: 34079 -:- 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.

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Survivor's Guilt

By Speedy Tomato

Summary: The war is over, and has been for 10 years, but, for Harry, he still fights part of it every day. And it's taking a huge toll on him. Though most would think he got a happily ever after since the evil was gone, that didn't happen.

Disclaimer:

I don't own Harry Potter nor do I make any money of this dark dance of Harry Potter fanfic.

Beta'd by Tenchi. Love you, woman!

Important AN: Content warning!

First, this is going to be a fairly dark, angsty fic. If you don't like such things, click the back button. Secondly, this is going to be completely faithful to the books until the epilogue of Deathly Hallows. The epilogue will be the only thing discarded from canon for this story. Third, this is based on the books, not the movies. If you haven't read the books then you will be rather lost about some things mentioned. Finally, there will be some topics in this fic that may well be uncomfortable for many, including the mention of death, suicide, mental problems and suicide attempts. Those will also be portrayed in the most realistic manner I can manage not as something that will be miraculously cured in just a couple chapters then the problem will no longer be an issue. Also, I will not warn you at the beginning of chapters where such things show up as I don't give spoilers for what's contained in updates. The blanket warning of this note is all you are getting as a heads up on the topics. If this disturbs you or you can't handle it, the back button should be used now. Flaming or bitching to me about topics you were clearly warned about will just get you reported to the mods and the review removed! You've been warned...

For those left, enjoy!

-That Tomato Person

Survivor Guilt:

Feelings of guilt for surviving a tragedy in which others died. In some cases, the person may believe the tragedy occurred because he or she did something bad. In others, the person may feel guilty for not taking proper steps to avert the tragedy. Also called survival guilt.

-definition source: medical-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com

Stepping out of St. Mungo's, Lucius lowered his head slightly then walked to the nearest Apparition point, ignoring the stares and whispers that seemed to always start up when he was in the Wizarding World. Honestly, by now, he should be used to it. After all, he'd been out of Azkaban for little more than a year, but it still bothered him. In the past, he would have met their stares and returned them with something malevolent or a challenge of some kind but now, really, he didn't have the energy for that. Nor would it do him any good. With him being on the Wizarding World's version of parole, it wouldn't do to have any kind of confrontation with anyone. No matter how it started or who was the instigator, it would end up with him at fault. That would, most assuredly, land him right back in Azkaban with no other shot at getting out until his sentence was over because, unlike the Muggle world, you only had one chance at parole. If you messed that up you didn't get a second chance. Though the Dementors were gone, one of those reforms that the new ministry had put into place after the war ended, the place still wasn't one he wanted to be in. Nor did he want to go back to serve the remainder of his 20 year sentence. No, it was best to keep his head down and not do anything to even get anyone to look at him cross-eyed.

After reaching the Apparition point, he quickly used it, turning up in Muggle London. Since he landed in an out of the way place, as it was designed that way, he transfigured his clothing into something that would blend in with the locals then headed to a pub that he was used to frequenting by now. This was his usual Wednesday evening ritual by this point. Since he was on mandated therapy, like all former Death Eaters that were no longer in Azkaban, another of those 'wonderful' reforms that the new government had in place, something that they had taken the concept of from the Muggles, he always needed a drink after the stupid sessions. As going somewhere in the Wizarding World was uncomfortable, he had found a small, quiet pub in London where he liked to spend a few hours after the sessions to unwind. It was something that, really, his nerves needed after such a thing. He didn't like the idea of 'therapy' of any kind, let alone having to talk about private, personal things and his 'feelings' but, as it was required, as well as him being cooperative about it, he did it, though hated every minute of it. So, a few drinks afterwards were needed.

Sliding into the pub, trying to stay unnoticed, he found a booth at the back in a corner that usually stayed fairly quiet. The pub was a nice one, certainly far better and cleaner than the Leaky Cauldron was, but it was still a pub, thus noisy and having many people about. Not to mention that something was always on that telly thing they had with the volume up high, thus adding to the noise level. It was, though, far better than him going back to Malfoy Manor where he would have to deal with a great many ghosts, of the figurative kind, and his son.

After ordering his usual, he settled back, his eyes locked on the telly. That thing fascinated him. Though, normally, he had no use for any kind of Muggle contraptions, this thing, with its visuals, was something that he did enjoy when he was here. Well, for a short time, anyway. Since, usually, all that ran on the thing was some kind of Muggle sports, he quickly grew bored, other than with those advertisements that ran periodically so he tended to either lose himself within his thoughts or sat and watched the others in the pub. Either way, it was a good technique for distancing himself from that uncomfortable therapy session and push it aside until he had to deal with it again the following week.

After he finished his first drink, he was feeling better, the sting of talking about things he didn't want to was dulling so he ordered another then leaned back in the booth, more relaxed than he was before. As usually happened, his attention to the telly had waned and his eyes were wandering about the pub. Since it was mid-week, he had chosen that day for his appointment for a reason, it was the least busy day at St. Mungo's, the pub wasn't normally bustling either. Though it was now about the traditional time for so many to get off work in the Muggle world, it was still slow in the place, thus not many patrons around yet. That always suited him well. He always made sure he exited the place before it got too busy but enjoyed the time he was there before that came.

Scanning the room, he didn't see too much that would interest him. There were a few people in but most were ones he saw here every week. His guess was they were either off work already or drowning their sorrows the way they always did. Those he ignored, having seen them enough that he was bored with them then went to focusing on the few that he hadn't seen before. For the most part, they were an uninteresting lot. Either they were sitting alone or with someone talking, nothing noteworthy about them. However, off in the far corner there were two younger men sitting at a table, on opposite sides, that his eyes kept being drawn to. He didn't know why but there was something about them that seemed to pull his attention that direction and a small niggling that he might know one so he focused their direction, shifting in his seat to where he could get a better view.

From his vantage point, he couldn't see much of the one, as his back was mostly to him. The other at the table he was sure he didn't know. He was a big guy, not exactly fat but leaning there, just husky as hell with blonde hair and a rather doughy face that looked like he was about Draco's age. You could tell that later in life he was going to be seriously fighting the battle of the bulge and would, in all probability, lose such a thing but under the bulk, even from this distance, he could tell there were a lot of muscles that spoke of some power of some sort. Perhaps, he was into sports of some kind, of the muggle variety, that lent that to him. The first thought that came to mind was he was reminiscent of Crabbe and Goyle when they were in school when it came to the build. But, unlike those two, there seemed to be a spark of intelligence and earnestness in this ones face as he spoke, telling Lucius that he probably wasn't the dimwit that those two had been. He also doubted, knowing what he did about people, that this was a follower, more of a leader, unlike the two dimwits. From his vantage point, he could see the two men were in a rather animated, though it didn't look heated, discussion of some kind. Though he didn't know why, he was curious about the two, as though something were drawing him to them.

Sipping his second drink of the afternoon, he kept watch on that table while trying to ensure that it didn't look as though that was what he was doing while trying to figure out what seemed familiar about the other boy. Though the one reminded him of Draco's old friends, he was certain that it was the other that was pulling his attention, setting off the memory of something. But he couldn't see enough of the young man to tell what it was. From where he was seated, all he could see was a mop of inky colored hair that seemed to be tousled, looking as though he had been in a windstorm or someone had run their hands through it. Beyond that he seemed thin, at least that was the impression he got from what little he saw here and there. But such things were common enough that they could be any number of people. Brow furrowed, thinking, he tried to see if he could sense anything odd but, as far away from the two as he was, that was impossible. Nor did he think, with this being a nondescript pub that he was dealing with magical beings. He could be wrong though. All he knew was that something was setting off his senses that he knew the one and that it would drive him buggy until he figured it out.

His first instinct, honestly, was to get up and move closer to the table but that would seem too obvious and draw attention to himself, something he didn't want. Thinking as he sipped at his drink, he then pulled out his wand, keeping it hidden under the table to where no one could see it before casting a wordless spell to eavesdrop on the two. Maybe if he could hear what they were saying then he could figure out if he did know the one and from where. This was risky, he knew that, especially since it was in a Muggle pub but he didn't think the ministry would come swooping down since he was discreet about it and there were plenty of magical beings all around London that cast spells every day. Besides, he didn't even rate an eyebrow raise from any of the other patrons. Settling back in the booth, he started paying close attention to the conversation that he could now hear.

At first, there was nothing of interest. The bigger young man was talking about his father, how he was sick with diabetes and knew that his time was probably limited. Lucius thought that if the blonde man inherited his genes from his father then his sire was probably a large man thus predisposed to something like that. Then he quickly caught on to the fact that the two were cousins, the larger young man's mother was the sister of the thin one. Quickly, on the heels of that, came the fact that they were raised together and the thinner young man didn't have a good relationship with the adults. That was most intriguing. It also made Lucius listen closer. Family drama was always a good thing to distract you from your own troubles, well, if it wasn't yours that was.

“I know things haven't always been good in the past,” the bigger blonde said but was quickly cut off.

Giving a dry snort, the black haired young man said, “That's an understatement, Dudley! You know what both your parents were like to me when I was growing up!”

Lucius gave a small nod at that. Now, at least, he could put a name to one of the young men. Though the name Dudley didn't ring any bells.

Sighing, Dudley nodded, “Yeah, I get that. Hell, I feel bad about it! You know that! But you've forgiven me, haven't you? Why can't you do that for dad and mom, Harry?”

Harry... now THAT name certainly rang all kinds of bells for Lucius! One big one came to mind there but he wasn't going to jump to conclusions that this might be Potter. After all, Harry, or variations of it, was a dirt common Muggle name. But, honestly, he didn't know if this Harry was a wizard or not. For all he knew he was just another Muggle. Now, however, he was going to be paying closer attention.

Snorting, Harry took a drink of beer then refilled his glass from the pitcher that was on the table. “Yeah, well, you've gone out of your way to make things up to me, Dudley. Hell, you've admitted what you did and stuck your hand out then made a firm commitment to change things so we could have a relationship. Aunt Petunia has made overtures that direction, at least small ones. But Uncle Vernon is still his normal self. He might start out trying to be nice but it always ends up with him calling me a freak and telling me how unnatural I am. Then he does his usual of telling me about all the faults I have before laying blame for all kinds of things, especially when you lot had to move out of Privet Drive.”

Privet Drive... that address rang all kinds of bells for Lucius but he couldn't place where he had heard it before. But he was certain now he knew the young man named Harry and it might well be Potter since the two chunks of information seemed to click somewhere in his mind, telling him they were related. Oh, this was turning out to be something quite interesting, indeed! What kind of information could he learn if this was Potter? It's not that it would do him any good, mind you. No one would want to hear him downgrade the boy that had saved them all from the greatest evil ever but it could give him some moments of smug reflection when he was alone. That could greatly offset the ignominy of what was going on in his life now.

Sighing, Dudley shook his head, a sad expression on his face, “Yeah, I know. Dad is dad. He tries, Harry, really he does. And he always starts out with the best of intentions. He is just... set in his ways and always resorts back to what he knows when things get uncomfortable. It's not you, really, it's him and he knows it. It's just hard for him is all.”

“I don't care, Dudley! I'm not going to sit around with him and be insulted! I've put up with that long enough from him, and everyone else! I'm a grown adult wizard and won't be called a freak because I can do magic!” Harry hissed, keeping his voice down so no one around, though there wasn't anyone seated close, could hear him.

Oh, yes, now Lucius was sure this must be Potter! And it didn't sound like the egotistical young man had the greatest of home lives either! That was... strange though. From all anyone he associated with knew, the boy was a spoiled brat that got everything he wanted. But it didn't sound like that was the case if the two were discussing how it really was. Since they were being private about it, seated where no one could hear them without magic and he was certain Potter didn't know he was there, it was a good bet that they were telling the truth. That was puzzling to him. But he wanted to hear more so he focused back on the conversation.

With a weary sigh, Dudley nodded, “Yeah, Harry, I understand, really I do! You don't need that shite from dad. Hell, I get it and I admit that he does it. But I'll talk to him again, alright? If I do that will you think about letting him try again? He really is sorry and does want to try to make it up to you. He knows he probably doesn't have much longer in this world so he wants to make amends before the end comes.”

Downing half his beer in one swallow, Harry shook his head then said, tone weary, “Look, we've tried that one before, more than once, actually. It always ends up the same way; he starts in on me and I end up leaving. But, for your sake, and ONLY yours, I'll try it once more. But you better make sure he doesn't start again because I'll walk once more and that will be the last chance he gets, Dudley! And, for the love of Merlin, no Aunt Marge! That woman has worn on my last nerve. Next time she snipes at me, I'm going to hex her and the ministry will call it self defense! But give it a couple months, alright? I don't think I can deal with Uncle Vernon right now.”

“Gotcha, no Aunt Marge,” Dudley said, making a face at the mention of the name. “Her I don't get. She's so overboard on that shite. I honestly don't understand why I used to adore her so much.”

“Because she spoiled you rotten and gave you everything you ever wanted?” Harry answered with a huff.

“Yeah, that was probably it,” Dudley agreed with a sigh and nod. Then he shook his head, “Her, dad and mom, all three, almost completely buggered up my life with that crap.”

“Yeah, they did. They, and you, are lucky you're not in jail right now with the way you used to act. Not even mentioning the things you used to do,” Harry quipped, downing the rest of his beer then pouring himself another glass.

“No shite!” Dudley snorted. “The best thing that ever happened to me was when we were forced to move 'cause that crazy ass bastard and his followers were after you. The new place had people around that didn't put up with that stuff. It made me grow up and realize I couldn't keep getting away with it. Hell, it put the trainer on the other foot! I was the one being picked on because of my size, the way I acted and things. That was a real eye opener! Dad didn't like the change and threw monumental fits with people over it but I sure as hell did!” Dudley admitted with a firm nod of his head. After he did that, he looked at Harry taking another drink of the fresh glass and a look of concern crossed his face. “Don't you think you're drinking a bit much, mate? I mean, I know since that war ended you drink but...” Trailing off, he just shrugged and gave his cousin another look.

Snorting, Harry took another sip then sat his glass down with a shake of his head. “I'm fine, you know that.”

“Yeah, you always are, I get it. But I worry about you, Harry. You drink a lot more than you should. Wizards might have a better constitution and live longer than the rest of us but I don't see how your body can take just how much booze you put away without having a problem.” Lowering his voice slightly, keeping his tone soft, he then said, “Shite, mate, I know how bad it's been for you. That war... it was rotten. You lost so much then you had to come home to us being complete and total arses. I also know, though you don't talk about it, whatever happened after we had to move affected you more than you want to admit, Harry. Shite, you lost so many friends. Then you and Ginny never did get married like you wanted. Now, you work, live alone except for that completely buggered up house elf and drink all the time. Hell, I think the only time you go out is when you're forced or meeting me. I worry about you, mate! I like the relationship we have now and don't want to lose you to the bottle. Maybe you should just, you know, talk to someone? No shame in that, Harry, not with all the shite you went through.”

“I'm fine, Dudley. Leave it be, yeah?” Harry told him, cold tone evident.

It was apparent that Dudley knew that tone, Lucius thought, because he nodded, though that concerned look never left his face. Then he sighed and said, “Alright. Just want you to know that I'm worried about you, mate. You're all the family I have aside from mom, dad and Aunt Marge. I want you around for a while, you know? Hell, I like hanging with you. You're a great guy once we finally got to know each other!”

“Gotcha, Dudley, but I'm fine, really,” Harry told him in a calm voice, taking another swallow of his beer.

Dudley nodded again thought it was obvious to Lucius he wasn't buying that Potter was fine then said, “Alright.” Glancing down at his wrist to one of those watches Muggles all seemed to wear, he said, “I gotta get home. Stuff to do and all that before I get to bed. Meet you here again tomorrow?”

After downing the rest of his drink, Harry nodded. “Yeah, same time, same place, Dudley!” Standing, Harry stepped away from the booth and waited for Dudley so they could walk out together.

Once Harry was upright, there was no doubt in Lucius' mind that was Potter. The hair, the face, the scar, it was all him. But, even from his vantage point, he could see the young man was thinner than he should be, skin pale and just didn't look like he was well. Plus, from the look in those green eyes, something he could see clearer than in the past as he had apparently gotten contacts or something, he was slightly inebriated. Considering how much he had drank just in the short time Lucius had been there, that wasn't surprising.

Dudley slid out of the booth then clapped Harry on the back, a small look of concern still on his face. “C'mon, Harry, I'll drive you home.” Before the dark haired young man could protest, the blonde pushed on, “It's on the way, you know that. I don't mind at all. Besides, I feel better knowing you made it safe. Humor me, yeah?”

After a roll of his eyes, Harry just nodded then followed Dudley out.

Lucius watched the two until he couldn't see them anymore then just stared at the door after they vanished through it. Sipping at his drink, he thought over what he had just heard and seen. It was most interesting!

Twirling the liquor in his glass, he stared at the door then thought over what he had seen. If you had asked him, he would have said Potter would have had it made after the war. With the reward he received alone for killing the Dark Lord, not to mention the Order of Merlin award and all that came with that, he would never have to work again in his life. Well, honestly, Potter was well off to start with, at least he assumed considering the family James came from so he probably didn't have to anyway. Then there was the fame that came with it, an adoring public that would fawn over him. How could anyone not like that? He always had when he was at his peak, adoring the way people all but fell at his feet to do what he wanted. But, from what he saw, Potter didn't appear to be happy at all. In fact, if it came down to it, he would guess the young man was miserable. Why would that be? He couldn't fathom it. That was a quandary, one he wanted to solve, too.

Downing the last of his drink, he nodded to the barkeep then strode out, heading back to the Apparition point. Since, really, he had nothing to do all day but rattle around in Malfoy Manor, other than weekly appointments with the court ordered shrink and parole officer, he thought, maybe, he would make a daily appointment at the pub to see how this played out. It would be most interesting, even if the intel did him no good.

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Survivor's Guilt