So sorry it took me so long to come back, but here I am.

I had started writing this chapter before the break, but I finished it just recently. I actually got a little confused and had to read through the last few chapters to figure out what was going on. Because of that, I want to apologize now for any discrepancies between the previous chapters, and the ones from here on out, or if the writing seems at all disjointed.

That said, It's good to be back. I won 3rd place on the W.I.P awards. Thank you to everyone who voted for me! Now, on with the show!

Disclaimer- Ring! Ring! Mr. Hate is using his one call from jail to inform you that he has been arrested for the thieving of copywrite characters. (But he'll keep writing anyways)

~HPT~

Chapter 27- Mirrors

Ron threw a Defodio at his opponent and made a noise of victory as a large gouge tore itself into the man and blood spurted out of the wound.

The battlefield was filled with chaos. They were outnumbered, and the fight had gone on for far too long. Suddenly he heard a scream. He recognized the voice.

Ginny!

The screams continued on and he turned and ran in the direction it was coming from. A man stepped into his way and he was nearly hit with a cutting curse. He responded with a Deprimo, which the dark haired man clearly wasn't expecting as the pressure pinned him to the ground and he let go of his wand. Ron pulled the knife Sloth had given him from his pocket and then he was moving forwards; in an instant the man's throat was slit and then Ron was moving again.

The screams changed in pitch and he knew there was something wrong. Then they cut out.

Oh Merlin no. Please no.

He rushed through the trees in time to see Harry collapse on his back next to the still form of his baby sister.

"Harry!" The dark haired boy didn't move or respond and Ron moved as quickly as he could, tripping and sliding onto his knees between the two of them. He looked from Harry to his sister. Her eyes were open but blank. But there were no visible wounds. But Harry was unconscious and there was blood pooling around his form.

With a guilty look in his sister's direction he turned to Harry. With a jolt of panic he realized the male wasn't breathing. He checked his pulse but there was nothing. His terror mounting he screamed Luna's name, praying she could get there in time as he positioned Harry's head to start CPR.

He couldn't lose him too.

Not Harry.

~HPT~

Louis watched with wide green eyes as the strange people in cloaks who called themselves Aurors led his Alpha away.

No. Not his Alpha. Not anymore.

The large male snarled and jerked in their arms but he was bound with glowing chains. They were silver in color, but he was sure they were made out of something else, as they didn't burn Fenrir's skin. No matter how much he struggled or promised death to those who held him prisoner it was useless. They moved him through a large doorway, and the old oak door slammed shut behind them; effectively blocking the monster from sight.

Louis sighed in relief as the sound rang out against the stone walls of the underground building. He thought it was underground at least. There were no windows anywhere. He looked down at his hands and clenched them into fists to stop them from shaking.

"Are you alright?" He yelped and jerked from his seat, scrabbling across the floor like a dog on tile as his heart pounded inside his ribcage and fear washed through him acutely like a winter chill. He swerved around to face the person behind him.

Behind him. Danger. Behind. Danger. Always watch your back. Red hair-

His terrified green eyes met startled grey ones.

Grey. Not blue- Grey. Not him. Safe?

He took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes; trying hard to will away the horror and the instinct to flee. After a moment he opened his eyes again. It wasn't his Beta, his- mate? No. Forced mate. Not choice.

The man before him was younger than he was. He had grey eyes and bleach blond hair. He was taller than Louis, and dressed in a silky silver button up and black slacks. They looked expensive. He swallowed. He knew this man. This was the man who had brought him and Fenrir here. He and the two redheads that looked so much like- No! He wouldn't think of that. Not now.

"… What's your name?" He spoke softer than he had before, gentler, like he was trying to calm down a wild animal that was still deciding whether to fight or flee. Louis supposed that wasn't too far from the truth at this point.

"Louis." He was somewhat startled by how soft his own voice was. It was raspy. Different than he remembered it being and he realized with a vague sense of horror that that was because he had screamed his throat raw.

"Louis. I'm Draco." The blond smiled at him but it didn't reach his eyes. "You understand what you are now, don't you?"

He made a choked sort of noise like a strangled sob and pushed back the swirl of emotions as best he could. He closed his eyes again and nodded jerkily once.

"Alright…" There was a shuffling noise like he was shifting his stance. "There are reservations here for people like you. Communities where you can change during the moon without risk of hurting someone. There are lots of others like you. And there are packs that would take you in. That won't hurt you like they did."

Communities? There were communities of monsters? But… Well, he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone. But would he really be safe? Would the other packs be different than his ex-alpha and beta?

He opened his eyes again and looked up at- Draco, was it? His eyes were kind, pitying. His words were genuine. That wrong smell that he caught when someone lied was absent. So it would be safe? He would be safe?

"… Ok."

~HPT~

Paul drove his truck slower than he usually would. As he drove, he would occasionally glance at the stone bowl full of silver liquid that sat in his passenger seat. He didn't want to go to fast and hit something that would make it fall or something. As it was, the silvery memories within it moved about too much for his comfort. It was thick though, the movement more like syrup than water.

He sighed, and turned his eyes back to the empty road.

He kept catching flashes of images. A dead woman hanging in front of a cage. A dragon much much larger than his mate when the green eyed male transformed. A man with a face like a snake…

The curiosity was eating at him. He had known from the beginning that the Black family had their secrets. But here, now, he had the opportunity before him to learn those secrets. He glanced at it again. An image of Harry, crying and holding a baby that was horrifyingly still… He swallowed and looked away.

No matter how badly he wanted to know, something told him he was better off minding his own.

~HPT~

Harry looked up from his book as the doorbell rang. The wards licked at his magic and he smiled at the feeling. All was well.

He wandered past the kitchen doorway, catching sight of Hermione sitting at the table with his newborns, a few magical texts between them with the images dancing across the pages. He grinned at the sight and continued towards the door.

He might not have been so eager to answer if he had known he would find Paul on the other side holding the family pensieve.

~HPT~

Wrath ran through the forest, his thick claws sinking into the ground and gouging up dirt with every step. He bared his teeth as he ran, the trees flashing past him in blurs of green. Fury swam through his blood and made it feel too hot. It swirled through his mind and his heart and made him want to rip something apart. Destroy something. Kill something.

Beneath it all was a swirling mass of horrific betrayal. To think that Lust would dare to even think about baring those memories for all to see! He roared, the sound like a boom of thunder in the forest that had become quiet, too quiet, with everything within it feeling the absolute rage of the predator that moved through it and trembling in his wake.

Red tinged the edges of his vision and his muscles pumped harder, pushing him faster and farther until he was suddenly clawing his way up his cliff in leaps and bounds, bypassing the cave entirely and going higher. His wings began to spread as he hit the edge, and then he was leaping into the air, the giant bat-like appendages keeping him aloft as his form moved higher into the sky.

He went up and up and up until he was above the clouds and hidden from sight and then he didn't have to push so hard. He didn't flip or twist like he might have another time, but instead he simply allowed himself to ride along the waves of hot air. It was silent up here. The only sounds coming from himself and the rush of the wind. He bared his teeth and breathed in deep.

He needed to calm himself so that he didn't kill his brother.

No matter how much he might want to at this point.

~HPT~

He blinked at the image in the mirror.

It was a stranger.

The stranger was more muscled than he remembered being, but gaunt at the same time. His cheekbones were more prominent. He was older than what he recalled; his jaw more squared than it once was and his nose broader.

The hair was similar at least. Black and scraggly and untamable. But it was longer, brushing across his naked shoulders and reminding him of Sirius. It was dirty too, like the face. Bits of dirt and blood and grime caked into it.

It was the eyes that got to him though.

No longer hidden behind wiry frames, he could see them clearly. He held a vague remembrance of bright, glowing, emerald orbs. But the eyes before him were darker, and dull. The glow was gone, and they looked so…

Dead.

He was dead inside.

Nothing mattered anymore.

He just wanted it all to end.

The desire to kill Voldemort in revenge for his parents was gone. The need to save and protect everyone was gone. He felt nothing when he imagined that pale, noseless face with murderous red eyes. All the hatred, fear, horror, and grief that used to fill him when he thought of the man was gone.

There was nothing left save for a desire to end it all. To rest.

He sighed, and reached for the scissors in the cabinet behind the mirror.

He may as well cut his hair while he was in here.

~HPT~

Harry stood in the doorway of the Cullen home.

He was aware of the various vampires and shifters in the room, but his eyes remained on the chocolate-skinned source of his ire.

On the outside, he was calm. He looked entirely neutral. There was nothing in his expression to suggest any emotion beyond a comforting sense of apathy.

On the inside, however, he was entirely the opposite. He had calmed enough to come here; to consider hearing Blaise out. But his emotions were still in turmoil, rolling around inside of him like the sea in a great storm. They mixed together and sloshed about, and he was like a cup that was just a little too full; with the liquid of emotions threatening to spill over and out.

Anger.

Betrayal.

Confusion.

Grief.

And a looming desire to break something.

The people in the room didn't seem at all bothered by his being there. Jasper was tense as a spring, but seemed to have resolved himself to not getting involved. Edward was, likewise, tense. He may not be able to feel Harry's emotions, but he was no doubt aware of the sounds of angry hissing parseltongue that filled his head. He stood carefully, just in front of Bella. He would no doubt get her away quickly if Harry lost his temper.

And as for Blaise…

Well, he looked terrified.

The shifters were looking at him confusedly; obviously not understanding his fear. But Blaise knew. They knew each other far too well for Harry's false calm to fool him. He knew better than to be calmed by the face, but rather he looked to the hands that were clenched into fists so tight that if Harry's nails had been longer he would be bleeding.

"Lust."

"Yes sir?"

Harry's eyes narrowed and shone, the rage finally showing through like a green flame that was burning just beneath the surface.

"Explain yourself."

"They need to know." Harry raised an eyebrow in skepticism. Blaise sighed and stood up from his seat. "They only know the very basics. They don't know about the rest. About the bad things. About…" He swallowed. "About the war. They need to know. They need to know about what we've gone through, and the extent of what Bill did. They need to know so they can understand. How… How can we call them our friends if we won't even give them our trust?"

As he spoke, the windows slowly began to shake. Harry was well aware of the noise and he took a deep breath before he dared to respond. The windows went still as he battled his fury, and allowed it to show only in the unnatural gleam of his eyes.

"There is a difference between trusting them and telling them the truth of it all than what you did." Blaise moved to speak and Harry held up a hand. "If you had come to me, to us, we could have discussed this. Telling them about the war is not the issue here. What is, is your blatant disregard for the emotions and opinions of your family. They don't need to see everything that pensieve holds." He grit his teeth. "You remember what it was like don't you? Or have you forgotten it all? Have you forgotten the horror of it? The looming fear of death's shadow upon us? The blood? All the blood that sunk so deep we still can't wash it all away? And the fighting? Have you forgotten the twisting feeling of disgust in your gut that comes with taking a man's life from him? HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN?!"

The dam broke and Harry couldn't quite hold his anger back anymore. He felt it burning inside of him and make everything throb with fire that moved in time with his heartbeat. His magic, the pure green of power rather than the destructive purple swirled around him and pulsed in the air like a huge writhing snake. He kept it pulled in, contained; not moving too far from his body.

Blaise stood now, the fear still on his face but masked by frustrated anger. "Of Course I remember! How could I forget?!" His own magic thrummed under his skin, tingeing it gold and making his dark eyes glow with black light. "I was there Harry! I remember every horrid detail! I remember everyone who died! Everyone I killed! I remember it every time I close my eyes!" His voice choked and he sat down. Harry's magic pulled in, and, though still visible, was remarkably calmed in the face of his brother's torment.

"I remember them all. All the informants I killed as they slept in their beds unaware. Every death eater I met in battle. Everyone who died by my hand. Everyone who died because I couldn't stop it. I remember them. My mother. My friends. All of them. I always remember them, Every day of my life. But you-" His eyes burned even behind the wetness that gathered in them as he looked at Harry. "You and the others! You act like you don't remember! Like you want to forget! You're moving on and I'm trapped in the same place! I'm still drowning while the rest of you learn how to swim!"

Harry felt the breath go out of him. The sorrow pressed down on his chest and he wasn't even aware of the others in the room anymore. He didn't notice that Paul arrived or that his magic swam back into his core. "You think we're not drowning? You think we're not just as broken as you are?" He closed his eyes and sat down on the floor in front of his brother. "I remember every face. Every name. That day before we left when I disappeared? I went to the memorial. I read every name. I used a memory charm on myself so I could never forget them." He looked sadly at Blaise, who seemed shocked. "I could list them for you. Every single one. I haven't forgotten. I haven't moved on. None of us have really. Hermione buries herself in books and knowledge and writing bills for the Ministry to change things. Ron is always working with the twins and expanding the franchise. He's never home now. Neville practically lives at his shop. He's slept there more than a couple times now. Luna tries to pretend like none of it ever happened. Draco… Do you know where he always goes during the day? He portkeys to the Ministry to interrogate the few death eaters that are left, and any other criminals they find. He plans to become a full time Auror. Sirius… Well… I don't even know what he does anymore. He doesn't talk to me like he used to because he's scared he'll lose himself and call me James again. None of us have moved on. None of us have healed. We've just found ways to distract ourselves." He swallowed and looked away. "You think we're not drowning with you, but we are. The only difference between us is that you acknowledge it while the rest of us are trying our best to pretend it isn't happening. But it is."

Blaise turned away from him, looking down and not meeting his eyes. "None of you will face it."

Harry nodded. "Because it's too soon. It hasn't even been a year since the war ended. We're not ready. You are though." Blaise looked up. "You're ready to face it. And that's ok. But the rest of us aren't. Hell, dad's not even ready to face what happened in the first war! Let alone Azkaban or the second!" He let out a mirthless laugh, and they were silent a few moments.

"Blaise." He stared his brother in the eyes. "We can tell them the truth. Together. But you can't show them those memories. No one is meant to see those. If you want to share a few of yours, that's your business. But not all of them belong to you."

Blaise took a deep breath, and nodded.

~HPT~

Paul watched and listened to Harry and his brother speak, and felt dread settle in his stomach like a bar of lead. He had suspected things, of course. But to know that there had been a war? That his mate had been forced to fight? To kill? He felt grief for Harry's pain. It was not fair that his mate should have to face such horrors. He was young. Too young to have been a proper soldier. At least by his standards.

Was the magical world really the kind of place that would allow for child soldiers?

"You were soldiers?" He hadn't realized he had asked the question until it was out, and Harry started and turned towards him, only now seeming to become aware of the fact that he and his brother were not the only ones in the room. His eyes drifted over Paul and the other shifters and the Cullens. He sighed.

"We were." He paused. "In our world, there are three kinds of magic. Dark. Light. Grey. None of them are good or evil, and spells are all about intent. But dark magic is chaotic, and hard to control. It's addicting, and because of that, a lot of dark spells are made illegal. A lot of dark spells are traditional, and so the old families, the ones that are considered 'pureblood' because they have no muggle blood in their lineage, keep their use of dark magic secret. They feel trapped, and believe that wizards and witches born to non-magical families are corrupting the magical world. That they're lesser beings than purebloods."

Dr. Cullen stepped forward. "And this is where your war came from?"

Harry nodded. "Many years ago, a man named Tom Riddle appeared. He called himself Voldemort, and rallied the purebloods to fight for him as his death eaters. Their goal was to kill all muggle-born witches and wizards, and to eventually take over the world, both magical and muggle. That's how the first war began. It was the one my parents fought in, until my mother became pregnant with me, and they went into hiding."

"Then there was the prophecy." Blaise spoke in a subdued way, and Harry nodded along with him.

"A seer made a prophecy that a child would be born capable of defeating him. It dropped clues that pointed towards myself. Voldemort killed my parents and tried to kill me, but the curse he used rebounded and turned him into a bodiless spirit. Then the Aurors hunted down his followers. That's how the first war ended. Then he came back when I was fourteen." He took a deep breath. "When Voldemort was defeated the first time, people called me a savior, so when he came back I was expected to be the one to take him down. He was smarter the second time. The aurors were stretched too thin, so me and my friends started fighting. Even more so once Voldemort began to win the war. We became soldiers, and we fought, and we killed." His eyes closed. "And some of us died. It was horrific, but we won in the end."

"They called us heroes." Blaise sounded almost sickened by the thought. "Everyone was celebrating and it was just too much. The wounds were too raw. So we jumped ship and came here. No one knows where we are. We just wanted some peace."

Harry nodded. "But it seems the war has followed us here."

Paul's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you mean?"

~HPT~

Harry collapsed into bed that night exhausted. They had managed to explain the situation with Bill, and what he had done. They had told everyone why he was such a threat, and had answered a lot of other questions about the war. Beyond his first couple questions, Paul had been strangely quiet; watching Harry with an unreadable expression. He hadn't said anything throughout their explanations, and had only offered a quick kiss to the cheek when Harry and Blaise left.

His odd behavior left a strange feeling in Harry's stomach, and he worried about how this changed their relationship. Was Paul disgusted with his actions during the war? Did he hate the thought of being with someone who had killed? Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. The shifters seemed to despise normal vampires for thier killing, and tolerated the Cullens because they fed from animals. Would they all stop liking him now that they knew?

A clacking sound snapped him out of his thoughts and without conscience thought he was twisting out of bed, onto his feet in a defensive position. He saw Ron do the same, and noted that Neville was likely at his shop still. Ron held his wand in hand and they were still a moment, listening. The sound came again, from the window of the balcony, and they looked at each other. Ron eased forward in silence, sliding up against the wall. He moved the curtain aside enough to peek out and Harry tensed, ready for anything.

Ron snorted and his stance eased. "Your boyfriend's throwing rocks at the window." Harry blinked.

"Uh... ok." He passed Ron and opened the glass door. Like the redhead said, he could see Paul standing out on the lawn. The shifter waved at him, but didn't smile.

"Next time he wants to pay you a social visit, could you ask the mutt not to scare us all half to death?" Draco stood in his own doorway to the balcony, Blaise behind him. Harry nodded, cheeks pinking in embarrassment.

He opened the window and walked out onto the balcony. He didn't look at his brothers when he spoke, still flushed with mild embarrassment. "I'll try to be home in a couple hours."

Draco snorted. "You mean tomorrow morning?" Harry didn't bother to respond before he was jumping off the balcony and landing into a well-executed crouch on the lawn. Paul bounded over to him, and something in Harry calmed and purred when the shifter pulled him into a hug.

He'd never noticed how warm the pseudo wolf was until now.

Paul pulled away and gave him a weak smile. "Run with me?" Nervousness coated Harry's insides when faced with his expression and he nodded silently.

Then they were moving, and running, and changing all at once, and nearly in sync. Wrath bounded through the trees with his wolf beside him, Harry and his worries pushed aside. The wolf moved ahead of him, and with a grumble he was passing him, turning it into a game of cat and mouse.

The wolf pushed harder, and soon their game became a race. The finish line undecided, they ran across ground, and leapt onto and over boulders and trees. A weightless feeling of joy filled Wrath that was not unlike the wonder of flying, and he let loose a happy roar.

The wolf jumped and slowed, and then howled its' own joy. Wrath roared with him, and the strange combination of a haunting alto sound, and the rough tenor note created something that was strangely harmonious and beautiful.

Then they were slowing down, and all at once they found themselves in a large clearing. A boulder marked one side, the trees on another denser than other areas, their branches stretching over and making the space feel almost as though they were inside rather than out.

Wrath huffed and pulled in air quickly, the heat of exertion seeping out of his scales. His bones snapped and shrunk and moved into different places, his spine shrinking and shortening until his tail was gone, his scales smoothing and lightening into skin, his spikes into hair. Then Harry sat where Wrath had stood, and soon Paul sat with him.

They watched each other for a moment, and Paul's eyes raked over him, searching for something. Harry didn't falter, and held still as he was studied, relaxing only when Paul finally smiled, seeming to have found what he was looking for.

He turned to look up at the stars and then fell back, so he lay in the grass looking up. Harry copied him, and there was silence for awhile. Not that Harry minded, it felt perfect just like this, laying under the night sky with Paul's hand in his.

~HPT~

Paul had been unsure of how to react when hearing the story of Bill and the war. He had known what Bill had done, and had realized vaguely that he and Harry had been lovers once, but until he heard the words, and the details, from Harry's own mouth, he hadn't understood the extent of it. When his mate said war, he meant it, and recalling how easily he and his siblings had killed the newborns, Paul could imagine them on a battlefield doing the same to other wizards and witches; defending themselves and their people.

He wondered how it had happened. How Harry had come to be lovers with a man so much older that he was. How Bill had become a werewolf. Why he had betrayed the incredible person that lay beside him. Had Harry had other lovers? Had they all been men? Or were there women too? He wondered about the war, and how many people his mate had killed. He wondered how many times he had faced death.

He had felt unsure of where he stood when the story was done, when the questions had been asked and answered. What was he to Harry? Did his mate still hold feelings for Bill? What would happen when they were forced to face him again?

But when he looked into his mate's determined face, and saw only affection in his eyes, his doubts were washed away with the tide.

"Do you know what imprinting is?" He heard Harry turn his head to look at him, but he kept his eyes on the stars.

"Imprinting?"

"It's how we shifters find our mates. We imprint on them, the first time we see them. Your eyes fall on them and then suddenly they go from a stranger to everything, to the center of your world. We live for our mates. We become whatever they need us to be. If they need a parent, the shifter becomes their father. If they need a brother or a friend, the shifter takes that place too. And if they want a lover... Well, that's just what we're meant to be."

"... And you imprinted on me?"

"Yes."

Harry sat up, and Paul looked up into his face. He looked offended. "You don't even get to choose?"

Paul chuckled. "No. I was horrified at first. I never really wanted to imprint on anyone. And I've never been attracted to man in my life. But..." He sat up and smiled. "I'm glad I imprinted on you."

Harry's irritation with the process seemed to fade away, and he looked unsure and suspicious. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because... I want you to understand that I'm always going to be here. Even if the way you need me changes, I won't go away. I'll stay on your side, by your side, no matter what you choose to do; no matter what path you take. I'll never betray you, never go against you. If I don't like something you do, or I think you're wrong, I'll say so. But I'll still be there."

HIs answer seemed to startle his mate, and the green eyes looked away. Eventually they went back to watching the sky, and as sleep grew closer Paul heard him.

"Thank you."

~HPT~

And there's Chapter 27.

I'll try to update again within the next couple weeks. Thanks again!

Sincerely,

Mr. Hate