A/N: Remember what I said about it not being the end...

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.

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The New Dawning

Chapter Ten: A Terrible Night

"Beware the man who doesn't ask you any questions about yourself on your first date." ~Merrill Markoe

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January 23, 2000

Now, Harry had never been on a date with a man – or a muggle man, at that. He was rushing around, trying to figure out what to wear, wondering if it would be terrible rude just to turn around and cancel on Paul. On Wizarding dates, Harry wore robes, but he somehow thought that that wouldn't be appreciated on a muggle date.

And it wasn't anything fancy, either. Paul knew that Harry's favorite restaurant was the diner, and before he'd left he told Harry that's where he was going to go. With his brows crinkled, Harry decided to just wear what he usually would – dark t-shirt, dark jeans, and sneakers. The diner wasn't formal, after all.

Teddy was sitting on the floor sucking his fingers, and to Harry the toddler looked kind of amused. (Of course, Harry, toddlers are always amused, he grumbled to himself, shaking his head). "You, my dear," Harry told the small boy, "are going to visit grandma. Does that sound fun?"

The one problem with not having any adult friends or family in America was that Harry had to floo Teddy to England on the rare nights that he needed (or wanted) to do something. Andromeda was always happy to have Teddy, and sometimes she even shooed him out before he could say goodbye. If she was so attached to the boy, why had she let Harry take custody?

Rationally, Harry's mind knew why the woman wanted him to have custody so badly, even if it hurt her. She was following her daughter's last wishes – and her daughter (and son-in-law) had wanted Harry to take care of their baby. It hurt Andy a lot to know that they had picked Harry and not herself... since Teddy was her last piece of Nymphadora Tonks-Lupin. Harry sat hard on the floor, emotions overtaking him.

He tried not to cry, and a lot of the time he succeeded, but it was just kind of ironic to him. He'd lived – against all odds – but his whole family had been taken from him, everyone he had loved – gone. James and Lily, Sirius and Remus, even Ginny. He'd been allowed to live, but what was living when you didn't have your family? It was like Fate's way of screwing him over again and again and again.

A few tears trickled down his face before Harry drew in three deep breaths and then exhaled, slowly, reigning control over himself again. He refused to have a pity-party. He was alive, wasn't he? But, of course, Dumbledore had always said to pity the living and not the dead.

Shaking his head to get out the contradictory thoughts, Harry brushed his hair down as flat as it would go before Flooing with Teddy to Andromeda's.

The woman was only too happy to take him, cooing and making a fuss, and then sending Harry on his way. Harry bit his lip as he did floo, because an uneasy feeling had filled his chest. At first he blew it off as the feeling he got every time he'd left La Push – but after a moment he realized it felt different. He was worrying.

And a worried Harry was never good.

– – –

Paul picked him up at six-o'clock sharp, smiling and wearing actual pants for the first time Harry could remember. They were a little too tight, but Harry said nothing as the bigger man offered his hand out.

"Ooh, a gentleman, hm?" Harry asked, teasing, and then placed his hand in the palm of Paul's.

For a moment they both just stared at it – much smaller than Paul's, looking nearly pure white against Paul's dark hand. Then, Paul's fingers gently closed around Harry's, and they looked up at each other.

"Uh–" Harry laughed, trying to push the awkward tension away. Paul was looking at him with such dark, intense eyes.

"I really like you," he said suddenly, brown eyes roaming over Harry's face as if waiting for a bad reaction.

"You don't – you don't know me," Harry said shakily. "You can't like someone you don't know."

"Sure you can," Paul protested. "Don't you believe in love at first sight?"

Harry's throat tightened at the implications of Paul's words. He wanted to scream and shout: 'Of course I do! But my chance is gone now, my Ginny is gone now!' but, for some unexplainable reason, he said nothing, just shaking his head slowly.

"Well, I do," Paul smiled slightly. "Come on."

Harry was glad that Paul hadn't outright said: "I love you." He would have been freaked out beyond compare and maybe he'd have even turned and high-tailed it back home again.

They slid into a booth together and Paul sat their tray of food down. Harry had tried to help carry it, but the man had just pulled it out of his reach before he could do anything. Harry thought it was almost cute – except not really, his mind told him, because Ginny was cute and Paul isn't Ginny. Harry srubbed his eyes in irritation. He'd been having thoughts like these since he'd been in the hospital: comparing everybody to somebody else, mainly dead people, and commenting on how they weren't good enough. He'd brought it up once to his Healer, but the man had told him that he was probably just in denial about ...well, about everything.

But it was still hard for him to look at, say, Seth and compare him to Sirius (from what he'd heard, the two were very similar), and then just be so closed off the rest of the day. Harry knew it would hurt Seth's feelings if he ever caught on, but his mind just wouldn't let him rest. Now that the images while he was eating didn't effect him, his mind had to come up with a new way to torment him.

And he was liking this way even less, but at least it didn't physically harm him. Just took away every chance of having a friend.

"Harry?" Paul asked, eyes narrowing with worry.

"S-sorry," Harry gasped. "I got caught up in my own thoughts. Sorry."

Paul eyed him with curiosity, but didn't push. He was always doing things like that when Harry was around him: every word, every slightest frown or smile, and Paul would be curious or interested. Like Harry was the only thing in the world that interested the man.

"So what do you do for fun?" Paul asked, cutting through Harry's thoughts again. Probably for the best, as Harry could get caught up rather easily.

"I...well, nothing, I guess. I'm remodeling the third floor of the Black Manor into a library," he added, swirling his fork in some mashed potatoes. "And I take care of my godson. Teddy."

Paul nodded slowly, chewing on some food. "A library?"

"A library," Harry repeated, affirming this.

"You like to read?"

"Sometimes," Harry laughed. "It's more of the fact that my family has – had – a lot of books. They were all bookworms. So I want a place to keep them all."

"And you need a whole floor." It wasn't a question, but there was doubt in Paul's eyes.

"I'm talking generations worth of books," Harry explained lightly. "Hundreds of years."

Paul cocked a smile. "So your family is that old, then?"

Harry nodded.

"Mine, too," Paul responded, looking down at his plate. He had decided to drop some subtle – very subtle hints about his heritage and his life as a shifter, seeing how Harry would react. "They can trace us all the way back to Taha Aki and his wives."

Brief confusion spread over Harry's face, replaced quickly by doubt and then feigned curiosity. "I thought those legends were fake?"

Harry was in internal-panic mode. Hermione had told him about the Quileutes – about how some of them may be able to shift into wolves. Later that night he'd brought up the legends and Hermione said they were likely to be true, to some extent. The wolf spirit may have been a Patronus, for example, as often your Animagus form is the same as your Patronus form. But she'd also said that Taha Aki was likely to be the first of the shapeshifting Quileute.

Paul shrugged. "Some of them, I guess," he decided, rather quietly. "What do you think?"

"I think... I think..." Harry struggled to find something that wouldn't hurt Paul's feelings. Luckily, he was saved from responding by a loud, loud howl.

"That sounded rather close to town," Harry said, deciding to try to distract Paul from his question.

"I'm sorry, Harry, listen, I've got to go," Paul said. There was a fleeting look of terror on his face, but Harry didn't have time to question it as the man stood and practically fled the diner. Harry swore that he was unbuttoning his shirt as he went.

– – –

Paul darted off into the woods. He'd murder Embry if that warning call was fake, a joke. He'd just been getting closer to Harry, god dammit!

The most temperamental wolf began shaking with rage, and he hadn't even gotten his pants all the way off before he burt into a gigantic gray wolf. His feet were flying before his mind had connected with the rest of the pack's.

But when it did, another tongue of terror licked through his body.

The vampires weren't in the clearing, and the Cullen's army hadn't all arrived yet.

Oh, fuck.

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