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Chapter Text

Harry watched Blaise and his son walk down the front path and out of his life forever. It had hurt seeing his old friend again. Blaise's visit had brought with it too many memories that Harry had worked too hard to get rid of. Just seeing Blaise had made Harry feel like the little bot he'd been, a seemingly lifetime ago, totally naïve and starving for love.

Sometimes, late at night after he sent Lucien to bed, Harry allowed himself to dwell on his memories. He wondered if running away had been the wisest choice. At the time, he'd thought it was. He'd spent too many year complete under Lucius' control to turn against him. He'd known there was no way he'd be able to stand trial. Lucius had shaped him from the very first time they'd met to be someone completely dependent on him and vulnerable to his control. Harry had convinced himself that if Lucius didn't love him, no one would. He hadn't been prepared to turn his back on the man he called father, but he wasn't willing to give up part of himself and stay under the man's control.

So, he'd run away.

He'd chosen to go to the States because there wasn't so many memories tied to the place. Lucius had taken Harry on numerous trips across Europe and Asia, but only once had they ever gone to America and even then it had just been a quick stop on the way to Canada. It had been hard getting there, and harder still settling down. He'd found a house fairly quickly in a Wizarding community, but when it came to building a life, Harry was only a helpless child.

He was afraid of people. He felt vulnerable being on his own, but he feared someone would take advantage of the broken state Lucius had left him in. But eventually, shortly before his son had been born, Harry realized that closing himself off to the world was just another way of letting Lucius control his life. Running away had been an attempt to gain control back, yet still even this far away Lucius reigned supreme.

Harry had resolved to no longer live in fear and to lead a normal life, but in order to do that he needed help.

Harry had started seeing a psychologist, or at least the wizarding equivalent of one. It had been a long bumpy road, but eventually Harry had gotten better. It was the birth of Lucien and the desire to be a good father for him that had given Harry the extra drive to remake himself into a better person. Still, Lucien had been six years old before Harry reached a point where he no longer needed to see a shrink.

But despite all the work he'd put into it, Harry was never going to lead a completely normal life. He no longer fear people, but he feared sex, he feared love, and he feared intimacy. He feared giving someone enough of himself to have absolute control over him. Even Lucien, his son, his world, all he had left to hold on to, did not have enough of him to hurt.

He'd told Blaise that he was happy. That wasn't a complete lie. Sometimes he was happy, but most of the time he just wanted to curl up and cry. He tried to keep a happy face for Lucien's sake, but his son wasn't an idiot and he was Lucius' son, he could see through any mask Harry thought to wear.

Sometimes life hurt too much. Sometimes he didn't want to go on. But he still rose each day and put on a smiling face. For Lucien's sake. Only for Lucien did Harry wake up in the morning. Only for his so did he continue with his tried and tired life. Because he was all Lucien had, and he didn't want to leave his son all alone.

Blaise and Cassius disappeared down the street, and Harry wished they thought to take with them the pain they'd left behind for him.

Blaise waved goodbye to his son until the scarlet colored Hogwarts Express disappeared from sight. Blaise's plastered on smile fell from his face, as he turned and left the platform. Cassius was off to his fourth year at school, and Blaise was headed back to their empty house. It was hard to believe his son was already fourteen years old when just yesterday he'd been nothing more than a small baby being held in Draco's arms. Sometimes it was hard to believe Draco was gone.

Blaise remembered back when he'd first learned Draco was pregnant with his child. He'd walked out of the hospital thinking he was going to hate Draco forever. Draco had been so bitter and selfish back then. He hadn't deserved anything but hate. But, a few weeks later Blaise had received the first of many letters he would receive from Draco. In the letter Draco had said he'd checked into drug rehab and that the healers had said their baby would be perfectly healthy as long as Draco didn't do something so incredibly stupid again. Draco had still been angry at the world back then, so he'd ended the letter there. Over the next few months, though, Blaise had received a letter from Draco every week, sometimes more often than that. Through these letters, Blaise had followed Draco's healing process: both his drug rehabilitation and the mental healing he was doing.

Blaise had never replied to any of the letters, but it seemed Draco didn't need him to. The blond seemed to be treating the letters to Blaise like one would treat a diary. Eventually, Draco had written a letter that had apologized for everything he'd ever done or said. That letter had been hard to read for two reasons: the ink had been smudged with the tears Draco had shed while writing it and the words had revealed so much of Draco's soul and was filled with such raw emotion that Blaise had gotten choked up just reading them.

Blaise had written a reply to that letter. His reply had been short, but had given Draco just what he'd needed: absolution.

Draco was released from rehab three months before Cassius was born. Blaise didn't see Draco at all during those three months, but he did continue to receive letters.

Then one day, Blaise was pulled out of bed by Narcissa Malfoy dragged to St. Mungos with no explanation other than to hurry. That day, Draco had given him the greatest gift in the world: his son. When left alone together, Blaise and Draco had started talking and that's how they'd ended up giving the relationship thing a try.

Blaise had loved Draco in a way he'd never thought possible, and it had hurt him deeply when Draco had died. Most of the hurt had initially stemmed from him blaming himself for Draco's death. They'd been fighting the night Draco died. Blaise had said some things that he regretted, Draco had stormed out of the house, and Blaise had been too stubborn to go after him. It had never occurred to him that his words could hurt Draco so much, until he got the Floo call from St. Mungos saying that Draco had been brought in on a drug overdose and that he hadn't made it.

That had been seven years ago and Blaise still missed Draco every day, but he didn't have time to dwell on his loss because he'd had a seven year old son that all but demanded he got on with his life. The only time Blaise had allowed himself to live in the past had been that visit to Harry two years ago. After that, Blaise had resolved to do nothing but move forward instead of stopping to look back every few feet. That had been in no way an easy feat, but Blaise was stubborn and he did what he had to do.

And he was happy. He'd had a great childhood with the best friend person could ask for. He'd had a few years with the love of his life. He had the most amazing son in the world. What reason did he have not to be happy? Blaise refused to see the downside of life. The way he saw, he had enough blessings to light up the night sky.

Lucius Malfoy held no delusions that he'd been a good father or husband, be he had tried his best. It was just as well that everyone he'd called family had left him in the end, because his very existence was poison to any happiness that tried to grow near him. Sure, he'd been bitter about losing his wife, he resented Draco's giving up the Malfoy name with his marriage, and he'd hated Harry's flee from his control, but he knew that it was all for the better.

After five years spent in Azkaban, Lucius had returned to a Malfoy Manor occupied by nothing but house elves. And there he had lived on his days in his lonesome. Years spent with nothing but his worst memories had taught him that he'd become the very person he'd vowed never to be: his own father. Yet, Lucius refused to blame his treatment of his family on his shitty childhood. No, a real man accepted himself with all his faults—he hid those faults from the rest of the world, but he accepted them nonetheless.

Still, Lucius liked to think he redeemed himself a little with his release of Harry and his son. He could have gone after them, and he had no doubts that Harry would fall right back under his control, but he had let them go. He thought that said something about the man he'd grew to be.

But life in the Manor was lonely and Lucius missed his family. With Narcissa remarried with three children, Draco dead, and Harry half way across the world, there was no one left for Lucius to love. No one ever came to see his bitter old self and he had no one he wished to see. Anyone who had ever meant anything to him was no beyond his reach.

So, imagine Lucius surprise when one early June day there came a knock at his door. Jinx the house elf found him in his study and told him that he had a guest. The young man waiting in the entrance hall couldn't have been more than twenty years of age, but his eyes spoke of having seen sights beyond his years. His height wasn't much at just below six feet, but he carried himself in a way that made his presence seem looming. His pale blond hair was cut around his ears and his clothing spoke of humble beginnings.

Even though Lucius had never met this boy before, he knew exactly who he was. Perhaps his recognition showed on his face, because the boy introduced himself in a way that said it did.

"My name is Lucien," he said. "He named me after you."

"How is he doing these days?" Lucius ask, gesturing for the boy to follow him. He led him to the parlor and directed him to take a seat.

"As well as can been expected with the scars he still carry from childhood. I must say, when you stake your claim on a person you never quite let them go."

"That had been the goal at the time," Lucius admitted. "But I thought with the amount of years that passed…"

"It didn't help that I so resembled you," Lucien said. "The older I got, the more he slipped into the past. And whenever I tried to change my appearance, dye more hair or the like, it filled him with enough fury to overcome his grief. We both hated that he needed you so much."

"Then why did he not return?"

"He'd hoped to protect me from you. Which is why he'd flip if he knew I was here. Still, I had to come, if only to know why my dad spends his days pretending to be someone else."

"Excuse me if I offend," Lucius said, "but you say he wanted to protect you from me. Who was there to protect you from him?"

The boy smiled sadly and spoke as a child many years his junior. "How does it feel to know the you ruined two generations of Potter men?"