It wasn't often that Jasper Hale felt nervous. In the one hundred and sixty-one years since he'd been born and one hundred and forty-two years since he'd died, his fear threshold was higher than that of the average man. Higher than that of the average immortal vampire, even. But right now, Jasper was sitting in a small, run-down pub in wizarding London, nervously picking at the cuff of his new shirt, thinking what a terribly awkward situation Alice had dragged him into.
Alice—who was supposed to be his friend—had cornered him in his small office earlier in the week and had sprung the 'exciting' news that she had set him up on a blind date. Jasper had not been amused.
"Have you considered the possibility that I don't want to go on a date?" he'd drawled, not even bothering to look up from his paperwork. Alice tsked and snatched the parchment that he had been scribbling notes on out of his reach, forcing him to look up at her. She gave him an exasperated look.
"How long has it been since you last went out on a date?" she asked accusingly, although she already knew the answer. Jasper shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"It's been a while," he admitted. Alice laughed.
"Sixty years isn't 'a while', Jazz, it's a lifetime for some—literally!" she cried.
"What if I don't want to go?" he grumbled. "What if I've already got plans?"
"You don't have plans," she replied shortly. Jasper crossed his arms and glowered at her.
"How do you know?" he challenged, before adding, "I mean, apart from the obvious reason…"
"Well, aside from the fact that I've already seen that you turn up for the date, you're also intrigued as to why—or more accurately, who—I'm willing to risk getting on your bad side for," she replied lightly.
He had to admit, she had him there. In the nearly sixty years since they had become friends, Alice had never played matchmaker with him until now. Perhaps it was worthwhile going just to see who this man was…
Alice tilted her head and gave him a reassuring look. "I understand that you're nervous, Jazz. It can be pretty daunting getting back out there on the dating circuit after a decades-long dry spell…"
"I've not even had the chance to feel nervous yet; you only just sprung your awful plan on me a minute ago!" he pointed out irritably. Alice rolled her eyes and sighed.
"Look, do you trust me?" she asked.
"Of course," he replied without hesitation. And he did. They had been best friends for years, she was his confidante, as close to a sister as he could get.
"And do you really think I'd spring this on you without warning unless it was really important?" she implored.
"I suppose not…" he prevaricated, eyeing her warily. "How certain are you that I'm going to turn up to this blind date of yours?"
"Some things are more certain than others, but on this rare occasion, I know that you'll go. Let's just say I have foreseen a bright future ahead for you and this mystery man," she prophesied, slapping the parchment back down on the desk. "And when you do go, wear that navy blue shirt with the silver stars embroidered on it, it suits you."
Jasper frowned, confused, "I don't own a shirt like that—"
"Ozwald Boateg, Savile Row," she informed him brightly, already striding towards the office door. "And listen to the shop assistant when they show you those silver cufflinks with the emeralds, alright? It'll match his eyes."
"Whose eyes?" he called after her, but she didn't reply.
Without further explanation, she had departed, leaving Jasper gaping after her before he could really process what the hell had just happened. It was deliberate on her part: make a quick appearance and swift exit before Jasper could say no, and only revealing the bare minimum amount of information to pique his curiosity. Oh, she knew him so well. All she had given him was a time and place to meet this mystery man—this Saturday at The Leaky Cauldron at eight o'clock sharp—but she had conveniently neglected to reveal the name of the man that he would be meeting. When he had inquired about it later in the day, she continued to be annoyingly evasive with him, saying he should simply have to 'wait and see' for himself.
"How will I know it's him?" he had asked curiously. She had only given him that infuriating, knowing smile of hers, the one she always pulled when she clearly knew much more than she was letting on.
"You'll know," she had replied cryptically.
So here he was, at Alice's insistence, in some run-down Wizarding pub in central London at (he checked his watch) five minutes to eight on a Saturday night, in the shirt that Alice knew that he would buy, waiting for this mystery man to arrive.
He had arrived early at the pub, hoping that a couple of Firewhiskys would calm his nerves. It was a fruitless exercise, of course—vampires couldn't get drunk—but he had hoped that the mere act of drinking may have a placebo effect on him and that it might relax him a little. He sighed and pushed his unfinished drink away. No such luck.
If he were being completely honest with himself, it wasn't the prospect of going on a blind date that made him nervous. It was Alice's suggestion that this particular blind date held greater significance than she was letting on. He understood that her predictions were largely subjective in nature, she could only see the future once a decision affecting it had been made, but the visions could change if the subject changed their mind. There were few exceptions to this rule, except when the future was stone-set: when destiny came into play.
Destiny. Was that what Alice had foreseen? She had been certain that Jasper would turn up to this blind date despite his trepidation, even knowing what he would wear on the day. Was Jasper predestined to meet this man and...what? Fall in love with him and spend the rest of his life with someone that he hadn't even met yet? While Alice hadn't explicitly said that was the case, the implication was there. The idea seemed ludicrous to him. But that was what scared Jasper: that this wasn't just some casual date. That the outcome of this one evening could, in fact, change his life forever. Of course he was nervous, he'd be a fool not to be with that kind of knowledge weighing on his shoulders.
There was also the issue of his physical appearance. He unconsciously rubbed the mottled skin around his neck and sighed deeply again. He had long come to terms with his scars, and had, for the most part, gotten used to other people staring at him, but he couldn't help but wonder if this mystery man would react the same way most wizards did when they first laid eyes upon his badly scarred appearance—with fear, with revulsion, with pity...his stomach twisted uncomfortably at the thought of what this man would say.
He straightened the silver cufflinks for what felt like the hundredth time and looked around the dingy pub expectantly. Despite its dilapidated appearance, the place was packed with witches and wizards, a handful of goblins, and a couple of other shifty-looking vampires deep in conversation with a banshee. It was the worst possible place for them to meet, in Jasper's opinion, sensing the many different conflicting emotions of the other patrons in the small pub was making him feel irritable and impatient. If this guy hadn't arrived by a minute past the hour, Jasper was going to call it a night, there was only so much of this rabble he could handle.
He checked his watch again and, with a mixture of relief and disappointment, he saw that it was two minutes past the hour. You've missed your chance, friend, he thought to himself, rising to his feet. He couldn't help but feel a little let down that they hadn't even bothered to turn up before rejecting him. Resolving to go over to Alice's and chew her out for wasting his evening, he grabbed his cloak and began to pull it on when he froze.
He felt him before he saw him.
He could feel what the stranger was feeling, so clearly that it was practically indistinguishable from his own—nervous, excited, wary. The sea of messy feelings from the other patrons seemed to die away, it felt like someone had turned the volume down as their internal chattering faded into the background until all he could hear was the steady rhythm of one heart, thud thud thud...Jasper sank back into his seat, hypnotised by the beating sound of blood pumping through one body as it drew nearer...
Jasper scanned the busy pub for the stranger. There was something eerily familiar about this person, although he knew that they had never crossed paths until this moment. His eyes widened in surprise as, finally, the mystery man came into view. He was the opposite of Jasper in many ways, a little shorter, slimmer, darker skin with messy black hair that he wanted to run his fingers through, and the most brilliant, beautiful green eyes that Jasper has ever seen. He glanced at the emerald stones set in his cufflinks and looked back up to meet the matching eyes again as they scanned the pub looking for someone, finally pausing when they fell on him.
As the mesmeric gaze dragged over him, he stiffened. He could practically feel the man's eyes trail over his face, down towards his scars and across his body. He braced himself for the typical reaction from people who saw his scars—repulsion, fear suspicion —but it never came. Instead, he sensed other emotions which took him by surprise—intrigue, empathy, even a longing or familiarity of sorts. His curiosity piqued and Jasper was desperate to learn more about this man.
The stranger walked over to where Jasper was sitting and gave him a shy smile. For the first time in over a century, Jasper felt a warm, pleasant feeling flutter across his chest. Before he could panic and wonder if he had by some miracle been reanimated, the man spoke, snapping him out of his revery.
"Hi," he said breathlessly. "Are you Alice's friend?"
Jasper quickly jumped to his feet and held out his hand, "Uh, yeah. Jasper. I'm Jasper."
The man took his hand and gave it a firm shake. Jasper couldn't help but notice how warm the handsome stranger's hand felt against his own cool flesh, the skin on his palm felt calloused but smooth. He works for a living, he noted. He looked expectantly at the man.
"And you are..?" he inquired.
"Harry," he greeted him. "It's nice to meet you, Jasper."
"Yeah, you too," he replied honestly. Harry began to pull his hand away and Jasper reluctantly let go, missing the heat from his touch already. He sat back down and Harry slipped off his cloak, placing it carefully on the back of the wooden chair in front of him. He nodded in the direction of the bar.
"Drink?" he asked.
"Uh, yeah. Firewhisky, please."
"Neat?"
"Yeah, thank you."
Harry gave him a lopsided smile. "A man after my own heart. I'll be back in a sec…"
Jasper watched Harry as he wandered over to the bar, taking in the sight of him. His physique was lean and he moved between the throngs of patrons with an agility not dissimilar from his own. He liked how he dressed, too, the soft cotton shirt was the same shade of green as his eyes and the pair of form-fitting chinos he wore accentuated his athletic shape in all the right ways. So physically he was definitely Jasper's type, that was a bonus. And he hadn't so much as blinked when he had seen Jasper's scars. Another unexpected bonus, Jasper noted.
Keen to impress the young man, Jasper wracked his brain for interesting topics of conversation, but couldn't think of anything witty or impressive to say. Just play it cool and be yourself, he told himself half-heartedly. Always easier said than done. Harry returned to the table carrying two glass tumblers of Firewhisky. He carefully sat Jasper's glass in front of him before taking his seat at the table. He raised his own glass into the air.
"Well, cheers!" He shrugged and took a sip of the drink, pulling a face at the strong taste.
"Cheers," Jasper returned the toast, raising his own glass and taking a large gulp of the sweet amber liquid. It left a pleasant burning sensation in his throat. Harry smiled at him.
"That's an unusual accent you've got there," he pointed out. "I take that you're not from around here?"
"Unusual for these parts, maybe. It's a dime a dozen if you go to Texas," Jasper confirmed.
"Texas?" Harry asked interestedly. "What brought you to England? It couldn't have been the weather."
"I'm not much of a sun worshipper, so the rain suits me just fine," he joked. "I used to work for MACUSA before a job opportunity arose at the Ministry in London. I transferred here six months ago."
"Cool. How long did you work at MACUSA before you moved over here?" Harry asked.
"Uh...a while," he replied evasively. Jasper wasn't sure if Harry realised yet that he was a vampire, so he thought it was better to err on the side of caution for the time being and assume that he didn't know. He had every intention of telling Harry, he just didn't want to scare him off too quickly. He hoped that they would get to know each other a bit better first before he would fess up to working at MACUSA for the last forty years before moving to England. He cleared his throat and continued, "Alice moved over here to work at the Ministry a few years back, so there was an extra motivation for me to come here as well as career progression."
"Makes sense," Harry nodded. "So, what department do you work in?"
"I work for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," he replied, picking nervously at his cufflink again. He hoped that Harry wouldn't inquire any further, but unfortunately for him, he looked quite interested in what work Jasper did.
"Really? What division?"
Jasper's heart sank. Well, so much for avoiding the subject of his little secret until they'd at least finished their first drinks.
"The Vampire Liaison Office," he replied cautiously, carefully gauging Harry's reaction to that. A look of dawning spread across his face.
"You're a vampire?" he asked, sounding surprised.
"Yup," replied Jasper lightly, taking another sip from his drink. "I was originally employed by MACUSA to liaise with the wizards on behalf of the covens in North America. My department has been quite successful in improving relations between vampires and wizards over the last few decades—"
"Decades?" Harry laughed. "How old are you?"
"It's impolite to ask a gentleman his age," Jasper pouted, trying to keep his tone light and playful. Harry grimaced.
"Sorry, that was rude. My mouth runs away with me sometimes."
"It's quite alright," Jasper assured him. "As I was saying, relations between vampires and wizards in the States have improved a lot over the years, thanks in large part to the work my department put in. Then, a few months ago, an official from the Ministry of Magic contacted me about an opening in their newly-formed Vampire Liaison Department. They'd heard of my success in the States and they wanted me to come over here to try and replicate the same kind of results. It's been slow progress, but I always enjoy a challenge. It might take me a few more decades to get the British covens on speaking terms with the Ministry, but luckily for me, time is something I'm not short of."
Jasper took a protracted drink from his glass, watching Harry's reaction closely. He wondered if Harry would storm out of the pub at this revelation. If the scars didn't scare people off, this usually did.
"Do you drink blood?" Harry asked boldly.
"Yes," Jasper nodded curtly. "But only animal blood. I consider myself to be a vegetarian. The trend hasn't caught on amongst the British covens yet, but I'm working on it."
Harry huffed out a laugh, "I've never heard of a vegetarian vampire before."
"There aren't many of us, but it's not unheard of," he shrugged. "It was one of the reasons MACUSA offered me a job in the first place. I'm viewed to be more trustworthy around wizards than most other vampires."
"And your friend, Alice—she's a vampire, too?" Harry asked curiously.
"Correct."
"I take that she's a vegetarian as well?"
Jasper smirked, "That she is."
Harry rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "So, just to be clear—you're a vegetarian vampire, but you wouldn't turn your nose up at a steak?"
Jasper raised an eyebrow, "So long as it's bovine and not human, then no. Why do you ask?"
Harry shrugged, "Just making sure that Italian isn't off the cards if we were to meet up for a second date, that's all."
Jasper frowned, "So...me being a vampire—it doesn't bother you?"
"Not particularly," he replied. "If I'm honest, when I first saw you I actually thought you were a werewolf."
"What makes you say that?" Jasper bristled, unconsciously rubbing the scars on his neck. Harry gave him a warm smile.
"Your eyes...they remind me of a good friend of mine. He is— was, a werewolf," he explained. "I meant it as a compliment."
"Oh," Jasper gave him an embarrassed smile. "Thank you, I suppose."
So, being a vampire isn't a barrier to him, either, he thought. Yet another unexpected bonus.
"So you're friends with werewolves and go on dates with vampires. You're a very unusual wizard, Harry," said Jasper thoughtfully.
"Yeah, I've been told that on occasion," he chuckled. "Do you mind me asking how old you are?"
"Does it matter?"
Harry shook his head, "Not really, I'm just curious."
"How old do I look?"
Harry shrugged, "Early twenties?"
Jasper wasn't used to people being so interested in him, particularly after they found out about his true nature. Harry watched him intently with those spectacularly green eyes, genuinely interested in what he had to say. God, he could easily get lost staring into those eyes, like a lush meadow of shimmering emerald grass...
Jasper shook his head and cleared his throat before answering, "Well, I went through the change not long after my nineteenth birthday. That'll be…" he thought for a moment. "A hundred and forty-two years ago now."
"Wow," Harry breathed. "Well, you look great for your age."
Jasper laughed, "Thank you, kindly."
"Now I'm worried that you'll think I'm too young for you," Harry teased.
"Most mortal men are," he chuckled. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-five," he replied. "And five months."
Jasper snorted, "Count your lucky stars, I have a rule about not dating anyone younger than twenty-five years and four months."
"Lucky me, then," Harry smirked, leaning a little closer to Jasper. "Mind you, I'm surprised that you didn't move here sooner. The Texas sun must have been a bloody nuisance."
Jasper shrugged, "The sun doesn't bother me so much, I just try and avoid being around humans, particularly on clear, sunny days."
"Yeah, I imagine sparkly vampires would quickly draw quite a crowd," Harry mused. "It's a shame that you need to hide it, I'm sure it's quite an impressive sight."
"Well, maybe I can show you sometime," Jasper offered lightly, winking at him. Already he was feeling much more relaxed in Harry's company—he was surprisingly easy to talk to. He suppressed a grin at the rising colour in Harry's cheeks.
"Yeah, I'd like that," he replied quietly, his eyes drifting towards Jasper's lips. Now it was Jasper's turn to blush...or it would be if he was physiologically capable of it. Christ, he'd only been sitting with the guy for a few minutes and he was ready to call it a night and drag him home with him. He cleared his throat and grasped for a more mundane topic of discussion.
"So what about you?" he asked. "Do you work at the Ministry, too?"
Harry's eyes flicked up to meet Jasper's again and he nodded, "Auror Department. Field Division."
"You're an Auror?" he asked, impressed. Harry nodded. Jasper chuckled, "Wow, your lot are more likely to hunt my kind down than date them."
"We hunt Dark wizards, not vampires," he corrected him. "I'd only apprehend you if you had been misbehaving in some way."
"Hmm, don't make it sound so tempting," Jasper teased. Damnit. The mundane conversation lasted about five seconds that time. "How long have you been an Auror for?"
"Seven years," said Harry. "I joined up soon after I left school."
"You're quite young to be an Auror," Jasper noted, casting a furtive look over Harry's boyish face and firm body. "And surprisingly still intact."
Harry laughed, "Yeah, still got all of my limbs for the moment. I've been pretty lucky so far, only suffered a few bumps and bruises."
"So you're an Auror on a blind date with a vampire," said Jasper thoughtfully. "Do you like to live dangerously, Harry?"
"Maybe," he smiled mischievously. "While we're on the subject of blind dates, I need to ask—did Alice strong-arm you into this as well?"
"A little bit, yeah," Jasper chuckled. "How do you know Alice?"
"I don't," Harry replied. "She works with a friend of mine, Hermione Granger-Weasley, in the Department of Mysteries. Seems the two of them concocted this little plan together. Do you know her?"
Jasper went to take a sip of his own drink and paused, recognising the name immediately. He placed his glass down on the table again and gave Harry a curious look.
"I don't know her personally, no…" he replied slowly, his eyes drifting towards Harry's forehead. Surely it couldn't be...he felt his stomach do a backflip as he spotted the lightning bolt scar beneath the mop of messy black hair. Harry instinctively flattened his hair over the scar, trying to hide it, a faint blush of embarrassment spreading across his cheeks. Jasper's eyes flitted towards Harry's again.
"Harry Potter," he stated. Harry grimaced and nodded.
"Yeah, that's me," he sighed in resignation. "I was kind of hoping that you wouldn't realise who I was for a bit more of the evening, I was rather enjoying the anonymity. I guess I gave myself away when I mentioned Hermione. Stupid of me…"
Jasper frowned at him, "Why would you try and hide who you are?"
"Because I want to avoid that reaction I always get from people when they realise who I am. They always treat me differently when they know I'm Harry Potter and not just...Harry." He unconsciously traced his index finger across the scar on his forehead. "You've no idea what a nightmare this thing is. I can't step out of the front door without everyone staring at me, making judgments about me without ever caring to know me."
Jasper chuckled and rubbed the mottled scars on his pale neck. "Believe me, I have some idea of what that's like."
"Yeah, I suppose you do," Harry muttered. "It doesn't put you off, then? Knowing who I am?"
"No more than my being a vampire discouraged you," Jasper assured him. "You're quite famous even amongst my kind, but I'll make no assumptions that I know anything about you. I'd much rather get to know the real you in your own words than read about you in some book."
The tension in Harry's shoulders eased and he gave Jasper a lopsided smile. "I appreciate that. Thank you."
"I do think proper introductions are in order, though," Jasper jested, holding his hand out again. "It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Jasper Whitlock Hale."
Harry took Jasper's hand in his own and gave it a light squeeze. "Hi, I'm Harry James Potter. And the pleasure's all mine."
Harry traced his thumb gently across the top of Jasper's hand and he felt the same fluttering sensation spread across his chest as when they had touched earlier. Even through this slight physical contact, he could feel Harry's emotions more strongly than ever. There was definitely attraction there—and the feeling was mutual—but he could also sense other stronger, underlying emotions barely hidden beneath the surface—feelings of guilt and remorse.
Jasper was taken aback at how deeply Harry's feelings of pain and loss ran. Of course, he'd heard a lot about The Boy Who Lived, the child war hero who had defeated the most powerful Dark Wizard of the modern era. But stories of heroic deeds so often neglect to consider the sacrifices heroes like Harry make along the way. If Jasper's heart were beating it would ache for the man, he could feel that his losses had been many, and his pain ran deep, seeping into his bones and occupying every cell of his body.
He understood now why Alice had been so keen for Jasper and Harry to meet one another: they were kindred spirits of sorts. They each bore scars, both visible and invisible. Harry's life may have been much shorter than Jasper's, but it had been no less violent, no less bloody or tragic than his own. Perhaps through their shared pain, they could find solace and comfort in one another that thye had never felt with anyone else before, that they'd never found within themselves. The thought was surprisingly comforting rather than frightening, and a spark of hope flared up inside of him at the possibility that something greater might come from tonight than just a couple of drinks.
They spent the rest of the evening getting to know each other better. Jasper told Harry about his happy upbringing on a farm in Texas before joining the Confederate Army just prior to his seventeenth birthday. Harry was less detailed about his early years but recounted a lot of stories from his school days at Hogwarts. Jasper told Harry about his most difficult years, too—recounting his experiences during the war before and after Maria had turned him—before he met Alice and her friendship helped him turn his life around. Harry told Jasper about the famous Hermione Granger-Weasley and her husband Ronald, the two best friends of the Boy Who Lived, and in Harry's own words, who had each saved his life on more than one occasion. Jasper told him about his years with the Olympic coven and how they introduced the idea of living as a 'vegetarian' as a viable alternative to drinking human blood. They were the closest thing he had to a family, much like Hermione and Ron were to Harry, he supposed. Harry listened keenly to everything Jasper had to say and he was surprisingly easy to talk to, even about the most difficult of subjects. It was strange how his focus never wavered from Harry. He forgot all about the other patrons and the noise of the pub around them melted into the background—the two men only had eyes for each other.
They only realised it was after midnight when the old barman came over and told them that the pub was closing for the evening. The night seemed to have passed by without either of them noticing. Harry wished the bartender a goodnight and promised to come back to see him again soon before they both left the cosy pub, the cold night air enveloping them both as they stepped outside. Harry shivered and rubbed his hands together trying to heat himself up, so Jasper pulled off his cloak and wrapped it around Harry's shoulders.
"Aren't you going to catch a cold?" Harry asked curiously. Jasper smirked.
"I don't feel the cold."
"'Course you don't," Harry chuckled, his cheeks tinged pink with the cool night air. He looked up at Jasper, his expression nervous but hopeful. "Vampires don't sleep either, do they?"
"They do not," Jasper confirmed lightly.
"So, it wouldn't be too late to invite you back to mine for another drink?" he asked, trying to sound casual. Jasper grinned.
"Yeah, I'd like that," he replied gently. Harry nodded slowly and held out his hand to Jasper.
"It's quicker if I Apparate. You don't mind?" he asked.
Jasper shook his head and took Harry's hand into his own, relishing how warm it felt against his cool flesh. He could hear Harry's heartbeat again, its pace had quickened a little after Jasper had taken his hand, quick, hard thuds that drowned out the other sounds of the city. Harry stepped closer and gently rested his hand on Jasper's hip, pressing their bodies together. Harry's tongue swiped his cupid's bow lips, wetting them, before letting out a shaky breath, a plume of cold hair escaping his slightly ajar mouth. Jasper was transfixed by Harry's lips, a pale pink that reminded him of a rosebud. He really wanted to kiss Harry then, but before the thought had properly formed in his mind, Harry's grip suddenly tightened on his hip.
"Hold tight," he said quietly. "This might feel a bit...weird."
Suddenly, Jasper's vision went black. He felt his feet lift off of the ground and he spun through the air like he was caught in a whirlwind, his body twisting in all directions as he clung to Harry's hand for dear life. For the briefest of moments, he counted his blessings that he didn't need to breathe, it felt as though iron bands were tightening around his chest as he hurtled forwards into the darkness which pressed into him from all directions. Then, just as suddenly, his feet found hard ground and his knees buckled a little as his shoes slapped against the wet pavement.
Jasper opened his eyes and the derelict pub was long gone, as were the familiar sounds of the bustling city. Looking around, he realised he was now in the countryside, surrounded by fields, and was standing on the front step of a small, whitewash cottage. There were no street lights here, but the light of the full moon bathed the surrounding cluster of hills in a soft, blue light. The dark outline of another multi-story house could be seen in the distance, but too far even for Jasper's eyes to discern any details from.
"Where are we?" he asked, looking around at Harry who was fumbling for his keys.
"Ottery St. Catchpole," he said, unlocking the front door to the humble cottage. "It's not much to look at in the dark, but it's especially nice in the summer. There's an apple orchard just over the hill that doubles as a great Quidditch pitch."
The door creaked open and Harry beckoned Jasper inside. Jasper hesitated at the doorstep, looking uneasy, and Harry frowned.
"What's the matter?" he asked, sounding concerned. Jasper shuffled uncomfortably from one foot to the other, looking embarrassed.
"I uh...I can't enter your house without your express permission," he sighed miserably. Harry's eyes widened in surprise.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Shit, I'm sorry, I didn't know. Uh...do I just say you have permission to enter, or— you're taking the piss, aren't you?"
Jasper has already started sniggering at how flustered Harry looked and he shrugged, "Sorry, I couldn't resist. You'd be surprised how many people believe that old wives tale."
"Well, maybe I'm having second thoughts about letting you in after all," Harry teased, pretending to close the door on him. Jasper laughed.
"Please don't leave me out in the cold!" he called. Harry paused before opening the door a little, a cheeky grin spreading across his face.
"I thought you didn't feel the cold?" he reminded him. Jasper smirked.
"No, I don't," he relented, his gold eyes slowly trailing down Harry's body. "But you've still got my cloak."
"That I do…" Harry sighed, pulling it closer to his neck. "I must admit, I'm rather loath to part with it. It's quite cosy."
Jasper leant against the doorframe, bringing his face closer to Harry's, almost close enough to kiss. Harry's smile fell, replaced with a heated expression.
"If you're looking for something to heat you up, I'm more than up for the challenge," Jasper replied silkily. Harry bit his plump bottom lip and nodded, opening the door wide open for Jasper to enter.
Jasper stepped over the threshold into the darkened cottage passing Harry, who closed the door behind him with a soft click. If his heart could beat it would be hammering in his chest like a battering ram right now, like the way Harry's heart was. It had been a long time since he'd gone out on a date and longer still since he'd went home with anyone. He wanted to do this, but his nerves threatened to get the better of him. Harry leant against the front door and looked up at Jasper before he slowly raised his hand and grabbed the front of Jasper's shirt, giving it a light tug, beckoning him forward. Wordlessly, Jasper shuffled forward as though in a trance, pressing his body against Harry's, arousal competing with his nerves. Even in this dim light, Harry looked beautiful: those emerald eyes of his boring into him, his expression intent and hungry. Jasper swallowed hard. He'd gladly get lost in those eyes, lost to his touch…
In one fluid motion, Harry's hands had slid around Jasper's hips to hold him in place and he brushed their lips together. It was more teasing than tentative—demanding, even. Harry gently pressed his warm lips more firmly against Jasper's. Jasper sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying how well their lips and bodies melded together. He opened his mouth a little more in invitation, shivering as Harry traced his soft, silken tongue along his bottom lip. There was nothing shy or unsure in Harry's actions; he knew exactly what he wanted and he wanted Jasper. He could feel how much Harry wanted him, it practically pulsed from the core of his soul and across his skin. Jasper felt lightheaded, his senses had been completely seduced by the man before him and he couldn't think straight anymore. All he knew was that he didn't want this night to end.
Harry's hand slid from Jasper's hip to between his legs, smiling against his lips as he felt Jasper's hardening cock through the soft fabric of his jeans. Jasper groaned into their kiss as Harry gave his cock a light squeeze, sending a sharp spark of pleasure through his whole body. Jasper could feel the surge of arousal pulsing through Harry as his own cock grew hard. The dual sensation of his own feelings mixed with Harry's was intoxicating, but a little voice in his head told him he should really tell Harry about this 'gift' of his before things went too far. Jasper reluctantly broke their kiss and pulled away to look at Harry, who looked up at him with a dreamy expression.
"Harry, I..." began Jasper, his voice low and rough. He was having some trouble speaking while Harry palmed his rock-hard erection through his jeans. "I uh...god that feels good…"
"Mmm?" Harry was already toying with the buttons on the silk shirt with his free hand, pressing a line of wet, open-mouthed kisses along his neck and chest as more and more skin was exposed. Jasper suppressed a pleasant shiver and cleared his throat.
"I have something to tell you," he said roughly. "It's important."
Harry paused and looked up at him with a serious expression. "What is it?" Jasper felt the stab of panic shoot through Harry then. "Shit, am I going too fast?"
"No, no…" Jasper reassured him, stroking his cheek. He explained to Harry about the Pathokinesis abilities he had developed after he had turned, how it allowed him to sense and—if he chose to—change the emotions of those around him. Harry looked curiously at him.
"So...you can feel what I feel?" he asked. "Doesn't that get a bit confusing?"
"Sometimes," he confirmed quietly, teasing the soft curls of raven black hair at the nape of Harry's neck. "But one of the benefits is that I'll know if you're enjoying what I'm doing; giving you pleasure will give me pleasure."
Harry's eyes darkened with arousal at those words. He removed his hand from Jasper's crotch and gave his own still-hard cock a tight squeeze. Jasper and Harry gasped at the pleasurable sensation coursing through him and he gave Jasper a devilish smile.
"You can feel that?" he asked, his voice low and husky. Jasper swallowed hard and nodded. Harry chuckled, "That's amazing. To be honest, I'm kind of jealous. Maybe there's a potion I can take so I can feel what you feel..?"
"I can also heighten people's emotional response as well as calm them. Make what they feel more...intense," Jasper explained, a little rougher than he'd intended. He couldn't help but stare, transfixed, as Harry continued to pleasure himself, running his hand slowly over the outline of his erection which pressed uncomfortably against the constraints of his trousers.
"Can you uh...can you make orgasms more intense, too?" Harry asked breathlessly as he swiped his thumb over the head of his own cock. Jasper gasped and his eyelids fluttered at the sensation before he swallowed hard and nodded.
"Y-yes," he stammered. "Would you like me to show you?"
"Hell yes," Harry breathed. He grabbed Jasper's hand and pulled him down the long corridor towards a room at the far end of the cottage. Kicking the door open that was already ajar, Harry led Jasper into his bedroom. Another stab of panic and lust shot through Jasper then as his eyes fell on the large four-poster bed that occupied the centre of the room. This was definitely happening then—he was going to bed with Harry James Potter. Christ, it had been so long since he had last done this, he was beginning to worry he wouldn't remember how. One look at the wanton expression on Harry's face as he pushed him down on the unmade bed and straddled his hips dispelled any misgivings he had. Surely it'll come back to him, it's just like riding a bike. His cock twitched at the mere thought of riding Harry, so he decided to give in to his instincts and pulled Harry by the belt-buckle on top of him, leaning forward and crushing their lips together in a passionate kiss.
Harry groaned happily and, with some difficulty, they started pulling their clothes off, neither one willing to break contact with the other. When Harry pulled off his shirt to reveal his slim torso, Jasper took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. He reached up and gently traced his fingertips across the brand on his chest where Harry had said a cursed locket had burned him. They both had scars, each with their own story. Harry's lightning bolt was legendary amongst the wizarding community, but Jasper took note of the private ones that Harry didn't share with the rest of the world: the words 'I must not tell lies' carved onto his right hand, the ragged scar on his left forearm where a snake had bitten him once, a large gash across his right hip from an Auror mission that had gone awry...Jasper wanted to get to know each of them intimately. He wrapped his arms around Harry's waist and rolled them over until Harry was underneath him. He proceeded to place a delicate kiss on the locket-scar just above his heart, relishing the shiver that traversed Harry's body at the soft touch on such sensitive skin.
Lower and lower he went, kissing Harry's bare chest and swiping each nipple with his tongue, causing Harry to gasp and his back to bow off of the bed at the intensity of the sensation. He wanted to worship every inch of this man, covet him, pleasure him in ways he'd never experienced before—in ways only Jasper could. He hooked his fingers around the edge of Harry's boxers and he immediately raised his hips off of the bed, making it easier for Jasper to peel them off and discard them on to the floor. He took a moment to appreciate the delectable sight before him: Harry's hard cock, flushed the same shade of pink as his lips, rested on his flat stomach, a pearl of pre-come blossoming from the tip. Harry looked down at Jasper, expectant and a little nervous. Jasper got the feeling that it had been a while since Harry had done this, too. He settled himself comfortably between Harry's legs and gave the base of Harry's cock a teasing kiss, smiling to himself as he felt it twitch against his lips.
"Careful with those teeth," Harry laughed breathlessly. Jasper chuckled and swiped his tongue along the full length of the shaft before taking the tip into his mouth, giving it a light suck. Harry let out a needy moan, the sound sending a sharp shot of pleasure to Jasper's cock, so he began stroking himself to the same pace as he sucked Harry, losing himself in the tantalising sounds Harry was making. He swallowed Harry's length hungrily, savouring the hot, swollen flesh sliding back and forth across his tongue. Sucking harder, he felt Harry shiver and gasp beneath him, his grip tightening in Jasper's hair.
"Fuck…" Harry groaned. "You're really good at that."
A vampire good at sucking, what are the odds? Jasper thought wryly. Desperate to elicit more moans of pleasure from Harry, he redoubled his efforts, massaging Harry's balls as he swirled his tongue around the head of his cock before taking his full length back into his mouth again and sucking hard. Harry's breathing became increasingly ragged and he could feel him edging closer and closer to orgasm. It wouldn't take much more to push him over the edge. Jasper was snapped from his lustful reverie as Harry placed a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him away.
"Don't want to come yet," he laughed shakily, pulling Jasper towards him. Jasper crawled towards Harry like a predator while his prey lay in waiting, stealing Harry's breath in a searing kiss. They lay flush against one another, hands and lips exploring each other's bodies. Jasper couldn't help the low groan that escaped his lips as Harry's cock brushed against his own. Harry shifted closer to Jasper and they began to rut against each other in a slow, steady rhythm, both men whimpering in pleasure as Harry's hot, silky hardness slid back and forth across Jasper's aching length. The friction felt amazing, but it wasn't enough. Jasper wanted more of Harry, wanted to give him even more pleasure. As though reading his mind, Harry whispered in his ear in a low, husky voice, "I want you to fuck me."
Jasper groaned, a jolt of pleasure like electricity shot through him at the note of desperation in Harry's voice. They kissed hard before Harry broke away and rolled onto his stomach, spreading his legs for Jasper and tilting his slim hips up. Jasper swallowed hard at the sight before him, he'd never seen anything sexier or more fuckable in his long life. He got onto his knees and positioned himself behind Harry, running his hands along the contours of his body, up his lithe back and across his pert ass, giving it a light squeeze. For the first time in his life, words failed him, so he resolved to let his fingers do the talking.
He sucked on his index finger, lathering it up before brushing it lightly against Harry's entrance, smiling to himself as a shiver traversed up Harry's body even at this slight contact. He circled Harry's entrance with careful, deliberate pressure, testing how far Harry's body would let him push inside. An unbearably sweet jolt of pleasure surged through Harry as Jasper's finger teased the sensitive ring of muscles, coursing through Jasper in turn, and he couldn't help the shuddering breath that escaped his lips. Harry moved his hips backwards, pressing against Jasper's fingers and hissing as they pushed past the tight ring of muscles and slid inside of him. Jasper paused, marvelling as Harry came undone before his very eyes, his face resting against his forearm as his chest rose and fell in short, sharp, panting breaths. He began moving his finger in and out of Harry in long strokes, making sure to brush the tips of his fingers against Harry's prostate every time he withdrew his finger, relishing in Harry's whimpers of pleasure as he began rolling his hips against Jasper's fingers. This felt good, but he knew that Harry wanted more, wanted it deeper.
"Ready?" he asked hoarsely. Harry nodded and turned his head to look at Jasper, his beautiful eyes darkened with lust.
"Fuck yes," he whispered.
Jasper leaned forward and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the bottom of Harry's back, smiling to himself as goosebumps erupted across Harry's flesh. He lined his cock at Harry's entrance and carefully began to press forward, meeting some resistance, but Harry rocked his hips back, encouraging him to push deeper. Jasper obliged, thrusting his hips forward in a fluid motion, his cock slipping past the tight ring of muscles. Both men gasped at the intensity of the feeling, the velvety heat of Harry's body surrounding Jasper's cock entirely. Jasper was dangerously close to coming already, so he took a few moments to catch his breath before he pulled back in one long stroke before thrusting his hips forward again, reclaiming Harry for his own. Harry groaned loudly and rocked his hips backwards to meet Jasper's thrusts, pistoning back and forth as they both tumbled towards their dizzying climax.
Jasper gripped Harry's hips so tightly he was sure to leave bruises behind, but Harry didn't seem to care. He rolled his hips and gasped broken, panting commands to Jasper— 'harder', he moaned, 'faster', he begged. Jasper obeyed, desperate to fulfill all of Harry's desires. He revelled in the fact that he could feel what Harry could feel, a dizzying surge of arousal that took his breath away, the hot tension in the pit of his stomach growing and spreading through him like wildfire, bubbling to the surface and then radiating across his skin. Determined to make Harry come undone completely, he focused on Harry's emotions, reaching out with invisible tendrils to tease them, strumming his arousal like guitar strings and increasing the pleasure tenfold. Harry's breath hitched and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his mouth open in a silent plea as Jasper teased him torturously closer to the edge of climax. Jasper's head began to spin as he willingly lost himself to the exquisite feeling, unable to distinguish Harry's mounting pleasure from his own.
Harry closed his eyes and leaned back, and with a deep, low groan he came, spilling his seed over the bedsheets. Jasper's breath hitched and a moment later he followed suit, climaxing inside of Harry. White stars erupted across his vision and he momentarily forgot who or where he was, only the grip on Harry's slim hips kept him anchored to reality. His legs shook with the intensity of his orgasm and he collapsed on top of Harry, panting hard. Harry lowered himself onto the bed and turned, wrapping his arms around Jasper's waist, uncaring of the sticky mess beneath them. Jasper didn't much care either; they could clean up in a minute. He was too busy enjoying the trail of worshipful kisses Harry was pressing onto his shoulder, the crook of his scarred neck and his cheek, his lips…
"That was…" Harry's voice trailed off and he sighed contentedly. Jasper smiled and kissed Harry's shoulder.
"It was a great warm-up," he teased, then laughed at the shocked expression on Harry's face. "I'm joking. I know it takes humans longer to recover."
"Good. I might need a while before I'm ready for round two," Harry chuckled. He looked up at Jasper, his eyes wide and hopeful. "Will you stay the night?"
Jasper didn't need to think twice. He answered with another searing kiss, running his hands over the contours of Harry's body, down his toned and along his slim waist. Yes, he wanted to stay the night. He'd stay here forever if he could.
Their kisses became slow and languid, and gradually Harry drifted off into a restful sleep, still wrapped in Jasper's arms. Although he couldn't sleep, Jasper closed his eyes and continued to hold Harry close, enjoying the heat of another body pressed against his own. Harry's warm breath tickled his neck, but it felt nice.
He lay in the darkened bedroom thinking about what had been as close to a perfect evening as you could come. Despite his initial trepidations about meeting Harry, he had instantly been enamoured by him. He was sure that, despite having only met that night, Harry was equally as keen to keep this going, whatever it was. It certainly felt like more than a random, one-off hook up. Was he in love? No. Not yet, anyway—he didn't believe in love at first sight. But he thought perhaps, in time, that he could come to love this man. He had to consider what Alice had said: she had foreseen a bright future ahead for himself and Harry. So, not just one random night. But several. Countless, perhaps.
Destiny. Was that what Alice had foreseen? Jasper glanced down at the sleeping man in his arms and the familiar spark of hope flared up inside of him at the possibility that something greater might come from tonight.
Destiny, he thought. It doesn't sound so bad, after all.