A/N: This is my first real attempt to write something of high quality, so updates will probably be fairly slow. The POV will jump between Luna and Harry as well as some others. Thank you to my betas moon and Macsen and to the others that have provided input.
Warnings: This fic explores the effects of addiction, alcoholism and PTSD, so if you have an issue with that, stop now. Rated M for sex, violence, death, gore, profanity and other adult themes.
Summary: The war didn't end after Voldemort's death for Harry. After years of hunting down the last remaining Death Eaters in Eastern Europe, Harry returns home to find that everybody has moved on. Haunted by his past, he finds solace at the bottom of a bottle. Is there anyone who can save him from drowning?
Poison and Cure
Chapter 1: Christmas in Germany
Seeing him standing before her, here in England, was strange indeed. Even more bizarre was the easy-going smile on his face as he relaxed in the shade of a gnarled pendunculate oak. He looked exactly as she remembered, with his messy black hair and wire-rimmed glasses, except lacking the trademark gauntness he had developed. She had become so accustomed to the solitude of her field work that she couldn't think of what to say.
He, apparently, had no such problems. "Who am I?" he asked, his smile blithe and unnatural.
"If you don't even know that, how is anyone else supposed to?" she asked.
"Who am I?" he repeated. A hint of urgency crept into his voice.
"You're Harry Potter."
He opened his mouth again to speak, but all that came out was, "Tap tap tap…"
"Excuse me?"
Tap tap tap…
Luna's eyes blearily fluttered open, and she rolled onto her side to glance at the little illuminated clock floating above her nightstand. It read quarter past two in the morning. She closed her eyes again, trying to recall the dream she'd been having. She could remember it seemed important, but it had already faded from memory, nothing more than a riddle for her subconscious to ponder.
Tap tap tap…
The haze of sleep fled her mind as the tapping became insistent. She pulled herself out of bed, stepped into her fluffy bunny-rabbit slippers, and made her way to open the window.
A ruffled looking Eurasian eagle owl flew into the room and landed on her bed.
"Sorry for making you wait. Happy Christmas by the way," she said. It had turned December 25th a mere two hours ago.
"Looks like you've made a long trip," Luna said. Its feathers were in such disarray that she could see patches of down where its plumage was upturned. She interpreted the tone of its hoot as affirmation and gave it a pat on the head.
"Nothing a good preening won't fix." She offered the bird an owl treat, which it took gratefully, and then she retrieved the letter from its outstretched leg.
It was a Muggle postcard with a picture of a hotel on the front. Luna smiled. She had never received a postcard before. How exciting, she thought. Turning it over, her heart leapt when she recognized the untidy scribbles.
Luna,
I have 2 days leave in Munich. I'll be staying at Hotel Vier Jahreszeiten Kempinski in the city center. Ask for Don Fisher.
Harry
She reread it thrice more to ensure there was no mistake, stopping at the name at the bottom each time.
"Harry's alive!" she cried, turning to her companion. "Isn't that wonderful?"
"Hoot."
Luna had not heard from Harry in over two years. The last letter she had received from him had been a similar cryptic note saying that he would be out of contact on some top secret mission. No explanation, no duration, nothing.
She later found out that each of Harry's friends had received the same letter. After a week they began to worry, but Ron assured them, with his signature sensitivity, that they would have been notified of Harry's death if he had been "offed." A year later, most of them had pushed that worry into the back of their minds and moved on with their lives, Luna included.
It did not take her long to decide that she would meet him in Munich. Two years ago, she had spent Christmas in seclusion, mourning the death of her father. It had been awful. Luna felt as if a haunt of dementors hovered above and around her family home the entire Yuletide Season. Was Harry facing the same loneliness?
At that thought, Luna lit her wand and began drafting a quick affirmative response to Harry.
"I'll probably get to Munich before you, but Mum always said 'Never leave a letter you were glad to receive unanswered,'" she said to the owl in her sing-song voice. The owl tilted its head.
"You can stay here and rest for a little while if you need."
Ignoring her, it hopped to the edge of the table and took off out the open window.
"Fly safe and say hi to Harry for me!" she shouted after it, waving.
Later, when she returned to sleep, Luna dreamed of a raven-haired boy with a lightning bolt scar.
Luna brushed the snow off of her shoulders as she walked into the lobby of the fancy hotel. It hadn't occurred to her that Germany would be much colder than England this time of year, but upon landing at the apparition point outside the government building in Munich, she was blasted by a gust of freezing wind. Oh well, it was nothing a quickly conjured poncho couldn't handle.
A bellboy ran up, speaking in German. "Guten Morgen, Fräulein. Darf ich Ihnen Ihren Mantel abnehmen?"
"I'm sorry, do you speak English?"
"Oh yes, sorry Miss. May I take your coat?" he asked with a mild accent.
"Yes, please," she said and handed her coat and scarf to him. She took the coat check ticket from him with a "Danke," before she approached the reception desk.
"Hello, I'm here to see Don Fisher."
After a brief exchange, the receptionist called over the bellboy and said, "If you vould follow Zoran he vill take you to Mr. Fisher."
"Danke," she said.
The bellboy lead her to the hotel restaurant and pointed to a large booth in the far corner, at which sat a brooding figure she took to be Harry.
She thanked the bellboy and walked towards the table. As she approached, she realized he looked different from the young man who left two years ago. His angular face was more squared, and where he once had patchy stubble, he now wore a full beard that was groomed haphazardly. He looked taller, maybe by just an inch, but it was difficult to tell while he sat. Perhaps the most striking change was his lack of glasses. Luna couldn't remember having seen him without them.
A beaming smile appeared on her face as she saw him turn to look at her, but his normally bright green eyes had an unfocused, glassy quality in the dim light of the restaurant.
He stared at her blankly as she approached, but eventually recognition appeared on his face as she walked into the light, which shone down from above the table. His eyebrows shot up past his fringe.
"Luna?" he asked. His voice was deep, gravelly and unwelcoming, but his eyes lit up at the sight of her.
"Harry, I'm so happy to finally see you!" she said, the brilliant smile never wavering.
He stood to greet her, but didn't respond. She stopped an arm's length from him, unsure how to proceed. "Happy Christmas," she said in a soft voice.
"Happy Christmas." His voice was flat, and he sat back down unceremoniously.
Luna bit back a frown at the chilly greeting, and she felt a pang of disappointment that he had not even noticed the extra effort she put into her appearance. Perhaps he had been confounded by the wrackspurts that seemed to follow him, or perhaps he was just having a hard time. The war never really ended for Harry. While everybody in Britain had begun the healing process over two years ago, he had gone after the Death Eaters who fled to the Continent.
Luna slid into the chair across from him and noticed the small glass of clear liquid sitting in front of him. "You know most people don't start drinking until after noon," she said.
"They do in this part of Europe," he said defensively.
"Do they really? I suppose I'll have one too then."
"Do you even drink?" Harry asked, surprised.
"Not usually, no," Luna said and began waving both hands wildly at the bartender to get his attention. When he looked over, she gestured to Harry's drink. "There, now you won't look so sad drinking alone," she said, turning back to Harry.
Harry frowned, for some reason.
Neither of them spoke as the waiter returned with her drink. She grabbed the small glass delicately and brought it up for a smell. Her nose wrinkled at the astringent scent of pure liquor.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Vodka, straight up," Harry said, taking another sip.
Her eyebrows creased as she lifted the glass above her head to look through the bottom of the glass. "Is it good?" she asked.
Harry shook his head. "No, it's poison, and it tastes like shit."
Luna gave him a quizzical look before taking a deep sip of the clear liquid. The taste caused her to give a small retch and the burn that followed made her cough as it ran down her throat.
Harry chuckled at her reaction.
She covered her mouth as she wheezed, her eyes watering. Before long, her stomach settled, and she gazed at Harry through watery eyes. "That is quite horrible. Why do you drink this?" she asked.
"Habit," he said, shrugging.
"Habit?" asked Luna, tilting her head to the side.
"Yes." His tone was harsh; his jaw was set. "You want to ask me about it don't you?"
She opened her mouth to speak, but he interrupted.
"Because that's all anybody wants to talk about, my drinking," he snapped, and then he turned away and took a drink of his vodka.
Luna stared into her glass. After a while, she said, "Dad died."
"Welcome to the club. The dead dad club… And mums too, actually. Look at us, a couple of peas in a pod."
She was silenced once more. Luna couldn't help but think this didn't sound like the Harry Potter she knew. Had he really become so bitter? When she tried again, her voice was cautious. "Neville is apprenticing with Professor Sprout at Hogwarts."
At this, Harry's expression actually brightened. "Is he now? Did he leave the Aurors?" he leaned back in his chair, more relaxed.
Bolstered, Luna said, "No, he's only apprenticing part time for now, but I think he means to, eventually."
"Good for him."
"He's dating Hannah Abbott."
Harry chuckled from deep in his chest, and the sound made Luna smile. "I knew he had it in him! Go Nev." He picked up his glass and raised it towards Luna. "Well here's to them. I hope they make it."
Luna drank with him. It really was an awful drink.
More chipper now, Luna said, "Ron and Hermione—"
"Fuck Ron and Hermione," Harry spat, and suddenly he was hunched over again, dark and brooding. "Don't talk to me about Ron and Hermione. I don't even want to hear about Ron and Hermione."
"They should be here now, giving me shit about my drinking and lecturing me about not coming home for Christmas and…" His voice cracked and trailed off. He drained his vodka, and raised it up above his head, signaling to the bartender. "You know how I spent last Christmas? Getting pissed in a shitty bar. Just like this Christmas actually, maybe I'll make a tradition out of it." He looked away.
"They probably meant to come tomorrow. Neville isn't here either," she said.
"Ron and Hermione are my two best friends. Neville's not, I wouldn't expect him to be here."
I'm not your best friend either, she thought. She already knew it, but it hurt to hear it put so bluntly. After the war ended, she and Harry got together every few months, just the two of them. It was always spontaneous and never conventional, the same way Luna did everything. She never had that kind of relationship with anyone else.
The waiter came by with Harry's second drink, and he downed it in one go. "But don't listen to me, I'm just a fucking alcoholic," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes were full of pain. "A no good, piece of shit alcoholic, who fulfilled his destiny at seventeen."
This wasn't him, couldn't be. This was a changeling masquerading as her friend. "Harry—"
"And you know what the worst part is? I didn't even start drinking to numb the pain. No, emotional neglect is just par for the course for Harry-Bloody-Boy-Who-Lived-Potter." Harry's hands clenched into fists, and his eyes looked almost manic. "Do you want to know what really happened? Where I've been for the last two years?"
"I don't know," Luna replied, suddenly feeling small.
"You don't want to know, and I don't want to tell you." He set his jaw, and his eyes began darting back and forth. "But I'm going to anyway."
"I spent the last twenty months undercover as a Russian mafia contact for a Romanian crime syndicate. Sounds simple right? Wrong. Every wizard in Europe knows what Harry Potter looks like, so I can't just waltz into Eastern Europe pretending to be a criminal. I had to be in disguise under Polyjuice the entire time." The volume of his voice began rising. "And there's only one believable reason somebody drinks from a flask every hour, and that's if they are an alcoholic, so that's what I became."
He shot to his feet. "And what does a Russian alcoholic drink? Vodka! Straight up! That's why I'm a fucking alcoholic! And that…" he began. His voice became a whisper. "That's not even the worst part." His chest heaved, and his whole body was tensed.
Luna braced for whatever he was about to say, but it never came.
He stood there, staring at her. His need for privacy had won out over whatever it was he wanted to get off his chest.
Luna felt her body relax, and she finally found her voice. "You used Polyjuice for an entire year?"
"Yes."
"And you were drinking heavily that entire time?"
"You bet I was," he said, holding his chin up in defiance, daring her to lecture him.
Luna's expression became very grave and for a moment, a wave of anger washed over her. Anybody who had taken O.W.L. level potions could tell him that mixing Polyjuice and alcohol on even one occasion was dangerous. He was killing himself, slowly, and he knew it.
What could she do? Ron and Hermione would lecture him and berate him and whip him into shape. Perhaps that is what he wanted, and perhaps they were whom he needed, but right now, she was all he had.
"Part of me wants to believe that I'm talking to an imposter. That real Harry is off somewhere, playing in a band with Stubby Boardman, and the Harry I'm talking to now is a shapeshifter wearing his form, but I think that would be unfair to you. I'm very sorry you had to go through that, Harry," said Luna. Her voice came out unsteady as her lower lip quavered.
A flurry of emotions crisscrossed his features as his expression cycled through surprise, confusion, anguish and eventually guilt.
Harry deflated, collapsed back into his seat, and bowed his head. With a sudden lurch, a strangled noise escaped his throat as his palms came up to knead into his temples
He squeezed his eyes shut and let out a deep shuddering breath. "Oh Merlin. I'm so sorry, Luna…"
When his eyes reopened, the glassy quality had vanished, replaced with a desperate clarity. For that brief moment, their eyes met, and look of intensity blazed within him. She felt like she was being judged. It was like staring down a hippogriff.
Eventually, he spoke. "I can't believe – I mean, I shouldn't have snapped at you. It's just that – Shit, everything is so fucked up over here. Europe is falling apart and there's nothing I can do about it." He sniffed. He was all over the place, volatile.
Before she could even begin to formulate a response, they were interrupted by an electronic ringing sound. She jumped as he suddenly jerked up, fumbling in his pockets for the source of the noise.
He pulled out a small device that Luna assumed was a mobile telephone. He looked at the screen, cursed under his breath, and brought it to his ear.
"Harry Potter." His voice was suddenly strong and unwavering. He paused to listen to somebody speaking on the other side, and a well-worn grimace formed on his face. Half a minute passed before he said, "Understood, on my way," and ended the call. "I'm so sorry Luna, but I have to go."
"Right now?" Luna asked, standing to match him.
"Yes, I'm sorry, but it can't wait," Harry said as he motioned for her to follow him and headed to the lobby of the hotel.
Luna had to jog to keep up with his hurried walk.
"What happened?"
"I can't really talk about it, but I think things are about to get a lot worse over here."
Luna stopped to process what he'd just said as he walked up to the counter and started talking to the receptionist in fluent German.
He turned back around and spoke with sincerity to his voice that had been absent before. "Luna, thank you for coming today, it means more to me than you'll ever know. You came halfway across Europe, and I was a sodding git to you. I'm not really a very good friend am I?" His eyes were soft. A sad, apologetic smile appeared on his face, and he seemed almost sober, but for the scent of liquor on his breath.
Before she could respond, the bellboy walked up with their coats. Harry took them and handed him a twenty euro note. Motioning for Luna to follow him, he passed over her coat and began walking towards the exit.
They stopped outside on the sidewalk and were assaulted by a draught of frigid wind.
Harry looked either direction before turning around to talk to her again. "I was hoping to return to England next month, but I don't think that's going to happen now. I… don't know when I'll be back."
She stared down at her feet, and hugged herself. It wasn't fair. The drums of war were beating in Europe once again, and the wizarding world couldn't be bothered to find another hero. When she looked up at Harry, he was checking his watch as though he really wanted to leave.
"Harry," she said, her voice barely audible over the ambient noise of the busy street.
His head jerked around, and their eyes locked.
She rushed forward and threw her arms around him. Harry let out a surprised "oof" as she collided with him, but after a couple seconds she felt his arms wrap low around her waist.
She pressed the side of her head against his chest, committing the feeling of warmth and sound of his heartbeat to memory. She didn't know if or when she would see him next. "You're never alone, Harry. Even when there are hundreds of miles between us, you still have your friends."
Harry said nothing, but squeezed her tighter in response.
"Please take care of yourself Harry, I couldn't stand to lose you," she said as she felt the sting of unshed tears behind her eyes.
"I'll try."
"No, promise me you'll come back."
"I… don't know if I can promise that."
She leaned back in his embrace to meet his eyes. "Promise."
He was torn, she could tell, but eventually he relented. "I promise," he said.
"Good bye. Happy Christmas, Harry."
"Good bye, Luna."
Colour blossomed on her cheeks at the warmth that filled his eyes, and the barest of smiles reached his lips. After a moment's hesitation, they parted, and not ten seconds later, Luna heard the distinct crack of Disapparition.
