I am glad you guys like the story!

Chapter 3

'I prepare for the noble war. I'm calm, I know the secret. I know what's coming and I know no one can stop me not even myself. I kill people I like. Some of them beg for their life. I don't feel sad. I don't feel anything. It's a filthy world we live, in it's a filthy goddamn world and honestly I feel like I'm helping to take them away from the shit and the piss and the vomit that run through the streets. I'm helping to take them to somewhere clean. There's something about all that blood man I drown in it.'- Tate Langdon

"I've killed people." Tate whispered.

"I know. I've killed people too." Harry whispered back. Both boys were lying on the bed snuggling. Harry hadn't felt this peaceful in years. Tate felt the same.

"Tell me about it?" Tate asked.

Harry told Tate about the wizards and their war. About how he was forced into the role of a hero and at times a scapegoat. He told Tate about their betrayal and his forced sleep.

Tate stared at him with black eyes.

"Are they dead now?" He asked an undercurrent of anger in his voice.

Harry leaned over and kissed him softly.

"Very." He murmured against Tate's lips.

Those who had pretended to be his friends had their souls completely wiped out of existence. For them, there would be no second chances.

"I guess it's my turn then." Tate sighed. He entwined their legs together.

Harry ran his fingers through Tate's hair the entire time Tate talked. Tate had a very busy and gruesome past few years.

"Are you disappointed in me?" Tate asked quietly after a few minutes of silence.

Harry blinked in surprise before drawing back and looking at the other boy's face.

"No. I knew there was darkness in you, Tate. I've always known."

"But you were always trying to make it better. Make me normal."

"No," Harry shook his head slowly, "I only wanted you to be happy and alive."

"But I'm dead now." Tate pointed out.

"Well, there isn't much we can do about that now. It all worked out in the end, I suppose." Harry chuckled.

Tate laughed with him before sobering.

"It doesn't bother you at all? The things I've done. I just…Harry something in me is still wrong. I don't feel the same things that other people do. Sometimes I don't know that I did something bad until somebody tells me." Tate's eyes welled up in tears.

"What do you feel? I highly doubt you cry on command." Harry asked.

Tate blinked away his tears.

"I feel…I feel sadness. I feel loneliness, hate, lust, anger, and love. I feel a lot of things." He said sounding almost surprised.

"What don't you feel?"

"Guilt," Tate said quietly, "I don't feel guilty when I kill people, but I feel guilty if I've hurt somebody I care about with my actions. But then I know I can't do whatever it was that made them sad. I tried to remember the things you used to tell me, but then everything changed and the rules didn't work anymore."

Harry stroked Tate's hair for a few moments thinking.

"Do you want me to give you rules?" Harry asked Tate seriously. Tate hesitated before nodding.

"No more rape. No killing animals. No cheating on me." Harry paused, "That's it."

"That's it?" Tate asked him in disbelief.

Harry kissed Tate softly on the lips.

"I like animals. I love you. I could also care less about killing people. Other people mean nothing to me Tate. Only you do."

Harry had definitely changed a lot over the last twenty years. Tate didn't give a damn. Instead he rolled the smaller boy onto his back and slowly kissed down his chest.

Constance was curious about the new boy. She wondered if any of the ghosts had bothered him yet. Normally, she would have been over there to meet the new neighbor by now, but Michael had been a handful lately.

All of that blood had been hard to get out of his clothes. She was going to run out of places to hide bodies soon. Constance sighed.

"Come on Michael lets go visit the new neighbor. Maybe your daddy will come out?" She grabbed the three year old's hand. A small modicum of hope welled up inside of her. She hadn't seen Tate since that whole Harmon family fiasco. He simply refused to show himself to her. Her child. Her perfect child hated her.

Constance should have drowned him at birth. Then maybe she wouldn't feel this way. Life a failure. She had failed him just like she had failed all of her kids. All of them had been disfigured in some way. Beauregard looked monstrous, Adelaide had Down syndrome, but Tate had been perfect so very perfect.

Until he killed all of those people at his high school.

It was alright now though. She had Michael now, Tate's son, and she could try again. He was perfect in body just like this daddy.

Maybe he would learn how to be more subtle about his killings like her.

Harry stared at the old woman and the toddler in his kitchen. He eyed the child curiously.

'So this is Tate's son?' Michael looked the part of an angel, but just like his father his aura pulsed with darkness and death.

"Good morning, would you like a cup of tea?" Harry asked them before moving toward the cabinet.

Constance seemed a bit startled at his lack of hostility. People usually tended to feel that way when she appeared in their house without being invited.

"That would be lovely." She nodded before seating herself at the table.

"Would you like juice or milk?" Harry smiled down at the little boy. Michael smiled back.

"Juice, please." Harry smiled at the polite child.

Afterward, the three sat down for some polite chit chat.

Harry liked Michael. Honestly, the boy reminded him of a little Tom Riddle. It was Tom's lack of guidance, and horcruxes, that had driven him into insanity. Michael, however, would be different. Harry wouldn't let such potential go to waste.

Harry didn't like Constance. The woman had messed up far too many times. Beauregard. Tate. Adelaide. Three children. Three dead. Three strikes. She would have to go.

Harry was sure that Tate wouldn't mind.

AN: So this is it for the day! I have some work I need to do. I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Review if you have any ideas on how Constance should die. I'm thinking poison.