Perfect. Precise. Absolutely no room for errors.
Dr. Carlisle Cullen made sure to charter a private plane from Forks to their first stop at an exclusive European airport. A jet would then leave for Italy at exactly 2am on Christmas Eve. A middle-of-the night flight on this precise date would ensure the least amount of human spectators. He had even purchased a majority of plane tickets to empty out the airport. Carlisles' plan was perfect. Precise.
It had no room for error.
How Alice Cullen managed to re-route her luggage was a mystery. She lost her stylish black mini-trunk, and even worse: she didn't see that one coming. It was a treasured miniature trunk full of her favorite things, mainly accessories for all their clothes. Edward barely had time to register a thought when Jasper Hale, the eternal gentleman, stepped off the jet and darted toward the nearest airport entrance.
"I'll catch up. It'll be alright." Jasper reassured Alice from a far distance. He was gone before any of them could protest. Jasper shot a wave of relaxation behind him, just for good measure. It was obvious his Alice was taken aback by her sudden blindness at the future. Nerves, Jasper thought. They all needed to relax and remain focused. Anyway, he could easily catch up to that jet in no time. No big deal.
The mission was relatively simple. Retrieve trunk. Run to Italy. Face Volturi.
Step one: retrieve trunk was exactly when Jasper got himself into a strange predicament. It started out well enough. In one smooth motion he entered the gates of the famed Aira International Airport, without being seen. In an equally short moment he surveyed the length of its glamorous halls. Every inch was ornately decorated with purchased Christmas spirit. But the desolate emptiness of the airport dimmed each light, wreath, and miniature Christmas tree. Jasper didn't have to search long before he spotted the unassuming black case with presumably Alice's things. The little trouble maker was somehow moved from baggage claim to a randomly unoccupied seat. Alice's trunk waited just for him, left to sit in the middle of an empty airport.
Jasper couldn't waste time wondering about the luggages' curious location. He quickly retrieved the case without hesitation. Unattended baggage was never a good thing, and it was sure to attract the attention of whoever employee was still around. He'd attend to it.. all the way to Italy. Jasper was halfway toward the exit, already moving toward a run when he deadpan stopped. His body went frigid at the curious vibrations emanating through Alice's trunk. What the hell did she bring and why didn't she tell him? He was more than sufficient to-
It moved. It's moving. Jasper stilled again, as the case defiantly struggled against his grasp.
His eyebrow arched as he glanced down at the little trunk. Jasper's ears heard what no one else could. A soft purring. He backtracked to precisely the location where said item was retrieved. Jasper ever so cautiously seated himself. There was a long silence, the trunk stilled. Jasper pried open the black cased mystery. The lock creaked angrily as he decided to investigate its contents. His golden eyes slightly widened as he peered into the trunk. He looked straight down, at a chimney's view of an elegant interior lodge. Bed, fireplace, library, and intelligent Cheshire cat included. All of it...in a suitcase. Jasper shut the trunk immediately, tensing his jaw.
Well..alright then. Cold ones and shape shifters existed. So why not a bag-house? Whoever this trunk belonged to definitely wasn't anyone Forks had ever hosted.
"Europe.." Jasper muttered to himself.
He couldn't steal the trunk nor allow it to be seen. So he sat and waited, roughly twenty feet away from the invisible culprit. Anyway, he fully intended to return the black mini trunk that he mistook for Alice's. The private jet had already left. The sooner the owner came forward, the better. Jasper surveyed the relatively empty airport. Nothing. No one of suspicion. Hours ticked on by.
Hermione Granger was a few terminals away, discretely biting her lip. She could see him, the beautiful muggle impersonator. She wasn't entirely sure, since he had golden eyes instead of crimson...but everything else pointed toward Vampire. Her anxious gaze wandered from her precious trunk to the lithe, tall figure. He leisurely sat as if he owned the bloody trunk, the airport, and her! The completely still figure started to move and her breath hitched. He leaned back, unbuttoning his fitted navy sweater. She tried to look away but couldn't. He commanded the delicious stance of a predator.
She blushed as he looked her way, completely unaware. He belonged in a painting. Perfect wavy auburn hair framed an incredibly handsome face. His red tinted lips contrasted perfectly with his marble skin. Every other expression was sculpted, from his jawline to the bridge of his nose. She was drawn to it. All of it. Certainly none of this was written in any of her books. The gravitational pull was impossible to describe.
Hermione took a deep breath. Nevermind that. Wits.
She grimly assessed her situation. Her (curiously) empty flight for Australia would be boarding soon. And here she was, encased in a concealment charm, dreaming of snogging someone who must probably want to kill her. So much for traveling the muggle way. She gripped the mistaken bag. What was she to do with belt buckles and white glitter? Their trunks were identical, but clearly different. Hers contained everything important to her, sans Harry and Ron.
He just sat there, brilliant, but unmoving. Her chocolate brown eyes moved from her trunk to his face, and back. After much too much deliberation Hermione briskly stood up. She refused to wait another hour, even if the wait was deniably pleasant. With a bit of reckless courage she decisively walked toward him, wand at the ready. Her heart paced faster and eyes dilated wider with each brave step. After a few steps forward Hermione began to question whether she was still walking. That incessant gravitational pull drew her forward, faster than she intended.
The instant Hermione let down her invisibility charm, Jasper was aware of her presence. He didn't have to look around. Jasper knew the direction each drop of her blood danced off to. The young lady who approached him smelled like cinnamon, orchids, and books. How could he even smell these things? These were things that belonged to his past life. There was only (ever) one thing he could smell, and that 'one thing' was the bane of his existence. She drew herself forward and he silently doubted his ability to restrain himself.
"Erm..hello." A British voice emanated toward Jasper. Hermione opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and opened it again. But no words came out from either her, or the intoxicating gentleman. The marble statue stilled to perfection, as if he couldn't hear her first 'hello'. Hermione took one valiant breath and moved closer.
"Hello there?" the feminine voice purred toward his ear.
After a moment of complete silence Jasper willed himself to look up and face the mystery girl. The large mass of curls and doe eyes blinked at him. Her chocolate brown eyes hid a fierce intelligence. Jasper was surprised that her view wasn't obstructed by the frizzy ringlets. The half-second it took him to regard her was just enough to memorize every detail. Every curve. Every crevice. All of her crashed into his senses at once.
She tried to greet him again, her voice as soft as snow. He silently watched her rose pink lips that she bit in fear. That particular posture told him she carried much more weight than just luggage. It was confident, despite her terror.
Hermione moved forward as Jasper forced himself to think of something other than her blood. His eyes darted toward her clothing. She was dressed so simply, pale green jacket and jeans. But she was beautiful; whether he obliged in the thought or not. Jasper denied it, well he tried to. He could draw her a hundred years from today, with the single millisecond he stole to glance at her.
Hermione instantly blushed at his one-second gaze. She'd been sheepishly gawking at him for hours. Why would he possibly take an interest in knowing who she was? Why would he spare more than one second to glance her way? Why in the name of Merlin did she care? Really. She moved forward, clearing her throat. Jasper steeled himself to respond, before she could close their distance.
"This must be yours." Jaspers velvet statement was woven in a subtle American 'twang. His voice came out like pure silk. Hermione swallowed down her fear.
There was no use in explaining herself.
"Yes. It er, belongs to me." Hermione tried her best to keep her voice even. She held out her arm but Jasper didn't move. Jasper didn't trust himself, and he didn't trust her. The Cullen's were the only ones he'd ever spoken that many words to. He looked forward again. Still as a rock. Hermione took a quick in breath and straightened her posture. Her outstretched hand remained equally frozen in the air.
As inertly charming as he was, and as much secret desire to stay she felt, Hermione hadn't any time for this. She garnered her wits against his overwhelming presence. This was the only holiday the Ministry of Magic allowed her. She fully intended to use it to contact her obliviated parents, for Christmas. Her plans didn't include fighting with a vampire over her personal choice of..housing.
The brave Gryffindor braced herself and focused on the image of her mum and dad. She touched her bag, along with the side of Jasper's hand. Electricity coursed through both of them. It reached places and areas it shouldn't have. Before she could wonder what happened he spoke again. Dangerously soft velvet.
"You know what I am. But you approach me so carelessly." his voice was barely audible this time. Again. More words.
At his sarcasm Hermione loudly huffed, looked away with a mock-smile, and huffed back at the gorgeous git.
"Have I any choice? You can very well see I've no intention of exposing you. I'd prefer to be on my way. With my possessions." She bit, extending her arm defiantly. Jasper's golden eyes stole a look at her stubborn hand.
If there's one thing Jasper Hale admired, it was brutal honesty. Facts. The trunk did belong to her. They were both wasting time over it, when all he wanted was to catch up to his coven. Jasper was..momentarily overcome by her, but that didn't matter. He quickly regained his sensibilities and regarded the young witch. She was in her own ways, intoxicating. But whoever she was, it was simply back to business. Good thing they'd hunted shortly before the flight. Otherwise his confidence would've fallen, along with the young lady.
"I didn't mean offense. I apologize for mistaking your things." Jasper's demeanor instantly changed. His expression softened. He moved to return her bag but he found himself fighting against the bloodlust. He found himself frozen once more, this time drowning in her unintended clumsiness. She swayed forward just the slightest bit. A millimeter was enough to mock his resolve.
"Well," Hermione started, completely taken aback at his sudden politeness. The charm he exuded began to overwhelm her again. It was all so sudden, and probably in response to her proximity. Hermione cursed Professor Slughorn for failing to distribute a proper lesson on Vampire repellant.
"Well, I apologize for being curt." She simply accepted. Hermione also accepted that she was still alive, wands aside.
They continued to eye each other. A vampire and a witch, at an airport. Jasper couldn't get a read on her. It was easy to tell that his ability to influence emotions had no effect on the young lady. She stared at him back, unable to move. Hermione couldn't figure out his intentions. Why hadn't he attacked her from the beginning? And why did he boast golden eyes? This vampire went against everything she knew to be true. That in itself was more unnerving than his allure. She needed to leave. He needed her to leave.
Jasper slightly tensed at the notion that he couldn't control her emotions. He figured he had to persuade her to run (if not walk away) without a lick of control. He had to do this in that human kinda' way. That's something he hasn't done since he was Turned. Cordiality and pleasantries and such, toward someone so delicious. Jasper was strategically extracting memories out of his past life. That's all he really knew how to do. Strategize. Good thing he was good at it.
Against his character Jasper broke the silence. Something must be said. Something like a formality. Anything to move this along. With mild discomfort Jasper forced himself to lock eyes with her again. To any outsider he looked graceful, obliging.
"Jasper. I'm Jasper. Would it be too forward of me to ask your name?" Jasper's mild twang tickled Hermione's senses. Is it too forward to ask what you are? That's what he truly meant.
"Hermione Jean Granger. I'm a witch. And..you are.. a...?" she felt a compulsion to state her name in a military-like fashion. At the same time, Hermione couldn't bring herself to finish her question. Of course he was a vampire. Silly of her to ask.
Really? Jasper reflexively flashed a small lopsided grin paired with a raised his eyebrow. He refused to acknowledge her question. Of course she already knew the answer to it. His familiar discomfort was gradually leaning toward amusement. The witches quirks were distracting enough, especially the way she tensed at her own intelligence. They lingered in a moment of silence. Jasper placed her belongings at the seat next to him, where she could pick it up and GO. It's as close as he'd allow himself be. Hermione knew better. She could've summoned the trunk with her wand, but Jasper did seem like he practiced thorough effort toward self control. So she briskly grabbed her trunk, the muggle way. Out of respect. He nodded at her once.
"Well, alright Miss Granger. Have a 'safe flight." Jasper regained his gentlemanly manners as she stepped back. He ceremoniously stood from his seat, waiting for the young miss to walk away.
Jasper needed her to walk away... now. He sure as hell wasn't about to kill her. It didn't matter what she was and how she possessed whatever magical rabbit hat that was. Miss Granger didn't fit into the plan. A plan that obviously failed from step 1 to step 2.
There was an awkward silence as two minds tactically whirled away at tornado speed. Two bodies at a perfectly calculated distance: the way ice and fire should be. Hermione immediately deduced that Jasper lived from a past century, where chivalry was the norm. Unfortunate, because in our century witches and women couldn't simply be dismissed whenever a dashing man stood up.
Hermione didn't walk away. She fixed her eyes at a nearby window. Just then Jasper had an odd feeling that even Edward wouldn't be able to catch her thoughts. He instinctively felt it. She was as tactical in every way that he was.
Jasper was right. Hermione had fought a seven-year war that he himself wouldn't be able to fathom. He wouldn't melt her resolve. He couldn't. Especially if that resolve involved protecting innocent muggles. Hermione stopped fidgeting, as if she'd reached a decision. Her gracefully determined mannerisms returned.
"You don't have to fly..or run, you know." She politely said to a large window at their right.
"Pardon?"
"I can portkey you to where you'd like to go. Instantaneous transportation. All it takes is a few spells on an object. In less than a second you'll arrive to wherever you need to be. It'll be faster and... safer." she continued speaking to the window. Hermione wouldn't meet his gaze.
"That's impossible." Jasper stated, slightly amused by her British lecturing on all things impossible. Rosalie's secret obsession with BBC TV paled in comparison to Hermione's enunciations and subtle expressions. Geeze. Jasper was doing it again. He moved away, deciding to focus on the same window. He stopped himself from what he knew Alice would hunt him down for.
"Impossible is it?" She stared back at his twang. He was a few feet taller than her. Hermione looked up at Jasper incredulously, her chocolate eyes questioned all his doubts. Anything was possible after the prior events at this particular airport. And they both knew it.
He looked down at her. She's serious. Was she actually offering him a one way ticket out? Jasper considered all the possible and improbable outcomes of her offer. The sun was creeping from the horizon, fast. Well that's the ticket. The show was decided for him.
"Instant travel, you say. Looks like I have some extra time then." Jasper spoke toward the same window she'd spoken to. Dawn was definitely about to break.
"I suppose we both do." Hermione's sighed at the sound of a loud ding. Australia flight 1503: delayed.
All the better. Hermione couldn't just leave the airport unprotected with a vampire running a loose, regardless of his dietary choices. Vigilance. Perspective. She'd deliver Jasper to wherever he wanted to be, and swallow her pride about achieving anything in the muggle way. Hermione would simply apparate to her parents. Apparating was something Ron Weasley insisted on from the beginning, and she stubbornly refused. Ronald thought she couldn't protect herself against "a flying contraption". And after all they've been through!
She fumed a little as she turned back to this Jasper Hale. Her breath hitched at his sudden closeness. Hermione defensively stuffed the black bag in between them and quickly closed her eyes. Hermione couldn't help what happened next: she turned bright red in response to Jasper's silent earthy chuckle.
She curled the trunk further toward her chest and began her plan.
"Would you fancy a cup of? Well, would you.. I suppose I.. would you like to come in? I mean with all the muggles I'd imagine it can't possibly-" Hermione rambled on.
"Yes." the gradual softening tone interrupted her rant. Jasper was curious, despite himself. Dawn was breaking and so he had very little options. If Miss Granger could turn Alice's box of belts into a five star hotel, she could probably blast him off into Italy in no time. She really didn't have much time. His control could only take so much.
"Right then." Hermione sat her bag down. With sudden precision and a swift flick of her wand they were instantly encased in an opaque bubble. Jasper resisted the urge to growl. Hermione's reflexes were faster and more agile than he estimated. Jasper's face was expressionless, but she knew better. It was her turn to cock a confident eyebrow. This girl's trouble. Jasper stopped himself from rolling his eyes. He couldn't allow himself to be familiar with her.
"I've cast a Disillusionment charm. They won't be able to see us, or see.. this." Hermione suddenly smiled, a little sheepishly at her trunk. The trunk that caused them so much trouble.
Jasper Hale lifted an amused eyebrow as he looked down at the entrance of the trunk. Jasper found himself opening the corner of a luggage case. He stopped an amused smile from forming, knowing how the young miss was so affected.
"Well then?" Her chocolate eyes waited for him to enter. He really didn't have to open doors for her. Much less trunks.
"Please, lead the way." Jasper's smooth voice insisted. They descended down a staircase to enter a wooden lodge that was decorated in gold and red. The fireplace warmly illuminated the antique furniture and red lounge sofa. The rug was plush, and the side of one wall displayed a massive display of books. Jasper's marble hand grazed through them. On the other side next to the quaint kitchenette stood a wonderfully authentic christmas tree. Despite himself, Jasper marveled at the moving pictures that decorated the hall.
"Please, have a seat. I'll be out soon with some er, refreshments." Hermione blushed as Jasper couldn't help ruffling the back of his auburn hair. They fell perfectly down his ears. They both heard it. Hermione's briefcase shut with a bright spark, housing two very tense and secretly amused..friends? No no. Perhaps it was too early for that.
Nevertheless. The briefcase shut. And locked.