Disclaimer: See initial chapter

A/N: AU; set before fifth year of Harry Potter, and perhaps within the first book of the Twilight series, though I may twist the timelines a bit and play around with them. POV changes will occur.

Jasper's heart went out to the human. He couldn't quite fathom what was going on, it didn't make sense. Carlisle, Esme and Edward were more drawn to humanity than he was. Sure, he'd stopped feeding on humans, but that didn't mean he wanted to cozy up with them either. As a matter of fact, it was downright dangerous for him to be sitting so close to one, regardless of the close proximity of his lover and adopted family.

He'd never felt this way about anyone, other than Alice, before and it was mildly disconcerting. He felt an odd mixture of empathy, pain and something else that he couldn't quite name. Empathy was something that he was no stranger to; it was part of who he was. He felt the emotions of those around him very keenly. At times, such as now, it was extremely painful.

"I don't want to be here," Ron whispered, digging his fingers into the grass, pulling at it.

"I know," Jasper drawled, momentarily forgetting that he was a bloodsucking vampire and that Ron was a young, hurting human.

"Why'd you follow me?" Ron asked, his voice conveying wariness well beyond his years as he turned to face him.

"It looked like you needed a friend," Alice supplied quietly, and Jasper was grateful that she'd followed them outside.

Ron's half-smile at her words was accompanied with a groan and, much to Jasper's surprise, the boy started laughing. It was an uncontrolled, sobbing, hysterical laughter that subsided nearly as abruptly as it started as the boy's laughter dissolved into tears.

Ron's muttered 'sorry' prompted Jasper to do something he would never, if he lived another hundred years, believe himself capable of as he drew the boy into an awkward, impromptu hug. He ignored the shocked gasps of his siblings as the boy wrapped his arms around him and wept.

Alice's hand resting on his lower back helped to ground him. Ron's scent this close up was proving difficult for him to resist. The blood pulsing within the boy's veins, so close, within easy reach, was difficult for Jasper to contend with as the boy's body pressed against his, the heat radiating off of the thin boy almost burning him. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this close to a living, breathing human being. It felt nice.

"Jasper."

Though he spoke the name quietly, Emmett's voice was strained with worry and fear. Jasper could feel Rosalie's swirling, raging emotions – worry, terror, anger… she didn't want to be uprooted again, didn't think that he could handle being so close to a human and not kill.

The warmth felt good, and Jasper thought that maybe he could understand what Edward saw in Bella, and why he didn't give into the urge to taste her blood or drink her dry. The power was intoxicating. Jasper knew that, if he wanted to, he could crush Ron, steal his very breath from him, break his bones, and make him bleed. He could make the boy beg him for life, and even for death itself. He could bend the boy to his will, make him do his bidding.

With a gasp, Jasper pulled away from Ron, shaking his head to clear it. If that is what Edward had to face every time he saw Bella, the vampire was a masochist. Jasper didn't know how he did it. His adoptive brother's carefully controlled emotions barely touched the surface of what it felt like to have a trusting human trembling in his arms.

"Sorry," he said.

Ron blinked and wrapped his arms around himself. His tears had subsided and he was shivering in the cool afternoon. The sun was obscured by clouds, and he'd left everything, including his coat, behind in the classroom he'd fled.

Embarrassment colored his cheeks a deep red and he looked away from the students who'd followed him out of the school. He'd never met anyone like them before. As he looked at them through the fringes of his lashes, he was startled to find that they almost didn't seem human. They looked otherworldly.

"We should be getting back," the tall blonde girl said.

Her long hair fell in flaxen cascades down her back. She would have been beautiful had it not been for the look on her face. It was a cross between utter disgust and Malfoy superiority. Ron found it as amusing as it was disconcerting. The glare she sent in his direction communicated contempt and made Ron feel that, in her eyes, he was little more than a bug to be squashed beneath the heel of her expensive shoes.

"Yes, I suppose we should," Jasper, the boy who'd held him, said.

Ron couldn't quite place his accent, but it wasn't anything like that of the blonde girl or their history teacher. The Newtons sounded different as well. The older boy's accent was soothing, and, much to his mortification, Ron found that he wanted to hear him say something else. Anything would do, just as long as he could listen to the comforting, lilting tone of his voice.

Ron felt everyone's eyes on him and he looked at the ground where his fingers were clutching a tuft of grass. He didn't know who these people were or why they'd followed him. He'd left the class wanting nothing more than to be left alone with his thoughts. And now, he was confused. He didn't know how he felt. Angry? Sad? Like his world was spinning out of control? Safe? That was how he'd felt when he'd been held. Safe. Something he hadn't felt in what seemed like years; though in reality his life had only been turned upside down a couple of weeks ago.

"You ready to go in Ron?" Jasper asked and he found himself nodding even though his emotions were still wildly out of control.

"What are you doing?" Though the question was hissed to Jasper in little more than a whisper, Ron caught it and the underlying threat beneath the words.

"Just drop it Rose," Jasper answered in an equally quiet whisper.

"First Edward and now you," Rose said with a shake of her head. "You're both going to put all of us in danger."

Ron frowned at that, not sure how helping him could put the four teens in danger. But then he instantly thought of Harry and paled. Simply being Harry's friend had put him and his family in danger. It made him sick to his stomach, and if he hadn't been focusing on putting one foot in front of the other, he would have lost his meager breakfast right there on the school lawn.

"I'm alright now," Ron said, squaring his shoulders. "Thanks for," he swallowed, "everything."

He attempted a smile and grimaced as it reminded him of Fred and George. The twins were either smiling or making others smile. It felt like he was betraying their memory and he frowned, his heart aching with the loss of their intoxicating laughter.

The rest of the walk to the school building was completed in silence, though it looked to Ron as if there was a private conversation taking place between the four teens. Ron strained his ears to hear it, worried that they might be discussing him, but the quietly spoken words eluded him.

The bell rang, which Ron now understood signaled the end of a class period, and he hurried into the building to gather the items he'd left behind. He wracked his brain, trying to remember his schedule, wishing, not for the first time since he'd been sent to live in America, that Hermione was with him.

"Ron," a lilting voice called out after him and he turned to face a small, pixie-like girl, "when do you want to get together to work on our Civil War project?"

Ron groaned, he'd completely forgotten about the assigned project and honestly wanted nothing to do with it. He was content with merely going through the motions and disappearing through the cracks.

He shrugged noncommittally and hurried in through the double doors, intent upon losing the foursome, hoping that the pixie girl would forget all about him. All four of them were more Malfoy's type than his. He was a Weasley. A redheaded nobody. The friend of Harry Potter. The boy whose family was dead. He didn't want or need any new friends.

He ducked his head and hurried to the classroom he'd fled from, weaving through students hurrying in the opposite direction, ignoring the shouts of 'Ron' that followed him as he went. He quickly gathered his bag, stuffing his notebook and pencil into it and all but ran to his next class – English. One of two classes he had with his newly discovered cousin, Mike.

If he was lucky, what had happened in history class would be forgotten by the end of the day and Jasper and his friends would leave him alone.

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