Ischaemia
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Twenty-One
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When the Cullens make plans to go and stay with their 'cousins' in their next 'new life', Jasper opts out for both himself and Harry. He's practically crawling the walls; they've been through this charade five times already, and he needs a change of pace.
Going out and seeing the world, venturing around Europe, a place neither himself or Harry have ever explored, sounds fantastic.
The Cullens see them off at the airport, and they agree to keep in contact via phone, to meet up again when they go on to start the next big façade after this one.
It is actually Jasper's first time on a plane, Harry's too. She's snuck two flasks of animal blood on board, hidden from sight with her gift and they have opted out of airplane cuisine, claiming it upsets their stomachs. Which is quite true, after all.
Sitting in first class side by side, Harry spreads a map out across their thighs, featuring all of Europe if one discounts the UK, which has painstakingly been scribbled out.
"We'll have to be careful in Italy," Jasper whispers, tracing out the country in question, well aware Harry's bare thigh rests beneath. Bless the humans and their increasingly short dresses.
"It's the home of the Volturi. Given your rather brilliant power..." He doesn't need to say any more. Alice has already told them of the ancient vampires of Italy, how they had attempted to acquire both herself and Edward.
Jasper isn't being particularly bias when he places Harry's gift in the same level of usefulness as his fellow vampires' powers. Perhaps even a bit higher, come to think of it.
Passing unseen by the humans, able to hide in the case of any attack, it's a very useful gift. And that is not to speak of the magic she has retained from her human life, even if it takes a lot of concentration and energy to use.
"I want to see some culture in Spain," Harry murmurs, fingers running over the Spanish coast and subsequently getting higher and higher on Jasper's thigh.
"How's your gift at covering a small area?" Jasper hisses from between clenched teeth, abandoning the map to grip at Harry's hips the instant she straddles him.
"Already on it."
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Twenty-Two
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While in Mexico, Jasper had picked up quite a fair bit of Spanish, and while some of his phrases were a bit old fashioned, it was more than enough to get by.
French however, Jasper doesn't understand a lick of it.
Thankfully, Harry does, the language being one of the two she'd picked up while hunting for any signs of magic before they'd met. Italian is the second on that list, but they have no need of that yet.
Right now, they are reclined upon a beach in Nice, France.
Harry lays front down upon the towel, clad only in a pair of brilliant green bikini pants. There's many a woman parading around topless, an equally great number attempting to catch Jasper's eye, but he cannot tear his gaze away from the woman that lays next to him. Harry's head is cradled within her forearms, turned on a side to glance up at him. They both have a flask of animal blood within arm's reach, not that they'll really need it given they fed just a night ago, but it is there if they feel like it. These next few years after all are for relaxing in, to act as a break from all having to hold up a constant façade.
"You're gathering a fair bit of attention," muses Harry, rolling onto her back and pulling on a pair of sunglasses to block out the sun.
Jasper hums in agreement to whatever it is she just said, far too enthralled upon the twin dusky pink peaks that are now within his sight.
Even though he barely acknowledges the little smirk at the edge of Harry's lips, the smugness she oozes lets him know she is very conscious over what she's doing.
"I love the Cullens, they're family now, but it is so nice to get away and just be Harry and Jasper again," Harry admits, arching her back as she stretches.
"If being Harry and Jasper means more time spent like this, Darlin', then we'll be having a third honeymoon right after the next charade."
Laughing into her arm, Harry sits herself up, fingers gathering her curls into a loose ponytail before she darts off to the ocean.
Jasper growls as he takes off after her, snatching her up and swinging them around, salt water smashing lazily against his calves as the ocean wave continue to work its their up the beach.
"Where do you think your going?" Jasper snaps playfully, shaking his catch about as Harry laughs a little more.
"I'm leaving you for a merman," she states, trying and failing to keep a straight face, "I hear they've got palaces down their under the waves."
"Palaces, really, Sweetheart?"
"Oh yeah, beds covered in shimmering moss and surrounded by all kinds of colourful coral. I'll even have a pet shark, to guard the door whenever I fancy taking my mere-prince."
"Oh, so you're leaving me for a prince now?"
"Well he does whisper sweet nothings in my ear," Harry jokingly admits as he sets her back down on her feet, her hands running smoothly up the sides of his ribs a clear contrast to her words. She wants him, as surely as he wants her.
"Well I can find you a bed made of silks so soft they feel like liquid, and I can bring you colourful flowers every day for the rest of eternity. And no one would ever interrupt us as I make love to you, Darlin', because you'll be screaming so loud they'll be too embarrassed at their own lack of skill to approach."
"And the sweet nothings?" Harry asks, words breathless as Jasper presses his forehead to hers, letting his eyes fall shut as his grip on Harry's hips tightens with desire.
"Whatever I say to you will never be considered nothing. Each word that passes my lips will be coated in so much love it will drip from every syllable."
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And that is how Jasper manages to charm Harry into not leaving the hotel bedroom for three days.
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Twenty-Three
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They're making tracks through Asia, more than a year into their journey, when Jasper witnesses the first act of magic not performed by Harry.
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Atop Mount Everest, scaled just to say that they've done so, Harry pulls out a camera and sets it up on a rock formation, having to group a fair bit of snow around the casing to hold it in place. She bounces over to Jasper, wrapping her arms around his own, the both of them dressed in huge bulky coats as if they are actually mountain climbers. Harry grins as the camera flashes, capturing their image for what seems like the thousandth time on film.
Harry has a whole scrapbook that she's been filling since they began their adventure in Spain, detailing all of their travels. While they occasionally call in to the Cullens, letting them know they're still alive -sort of- and kicking, Harry insists on sharing the story of their travels in person. Which is why they're attempting to do as many iconic things as possible while on their journey.
They've gone through five cameras already; one lost somewhere on a beach in Spain, another underwater when their boat in Greece had overturned (funnily enough, they'd been declared the only two fatalities of that disaster by authorities, given they'd sunk as opposed to floating), two crushed whenever their desire for the other grew out of control, and the final one ended up accidentally sealed in a time in Egypt. The archaeologist to open that tomb for the 'first time' is surely in for a surprise.
Jasper cannot find it in himself to be sorry for it, and they even cleared the place of the more deadly traps. They only took off with a few bracelets and amulets out of the whole treasure trove.
Oh, and a pretty crown, evidentially stolen by the Egyptians from somewhere outside of their country, given the design.
Harry had laughed when he crowned her though, so Jasper considered it a win.
Pulling the film free of the camera, Jasper wiggles it around in the thin air, staring at the photograph of their grinning faces, half hidden beneath scarves while their exposed skin sparkles.
They look happy, Jasper thinks, sitting back on one of the rocks as he considers what life now consists of.
No, they are happy, he concludes, picking up the camera and strapping it onto his belt. Hopefully this one will last; they've only got one more left in Harry's expandable pouch.
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They've paused beneath an overhanging ledge, the clouds now thick around them during their descent, when the air beside Harry flickers.
Jasper snaps to attention, pulling Harry into the protective cage of his arms before she even realises he's spotted something.
The strangeness grows, forming a ring of smoke perhaps two feet wide, just floating their in the air.
When it clears, Harry gasps in his hold.
"Hermione?"
There is indeed the image of a bushy haired girl in the wispy air, and she's staring delightedly at Harry.
"Harry! You're alive! Thank Merlin, we were terrified when you fell through the veil. I've been trying to contact you for weeks! Where are you, we'll come and get you and- oh!"
Her brown eyes widen when they at long last spot Jasper, her lips parting in a cute little 'o' shape with a blush dusting her cheeks.
"I'm in another dimension, Hermione. It's been a century for me."
The bushy haired witch gapes, completely losing interest in Jasper as she stares at Harry and really takes her in, really looks at the change that Harry's vampiric state has brought about.
"There's no going back, I've looked and researched and... And I don't want to go back," Harry admits, her hands coming up to wrap around Jasper's wrists. Not for any reason other than to just keep a hold of him.
"Oh Harry," this 'Hermione' breathes, looking between the pair of them with a warm, tearful smile.
"I'm Harry Whitlock now, and this is my husband, Jasper."
"You're so lucky, Harry, he's gorgeous," she chokes, as if she'd not meant to blurt that last bit out, her face reddening even more.
"Thank you, Ma'am."
"And he's a gentleman too. Mrs Weasley will be thrilled when I tell her. Harry, I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to get in contact again, but I promise I'll tell everyone you're fine and happy and-"
"And that you'll name your first child after us?" Harry pitches in, watching as the brunette gives a wet laugh, swiping at her tear streaked face with tanned hands.
"Of course I will, Harry. I'd ask the same, but I'm pretty sure you'll name your kid after Sirius."
Harry tenses up in his arms, and Jasper forces himself to not let his feelings show on his face, to not give away that they will not be able to name a child after Sirius Black. Because they can never have one.
Their pain radiates together, a symphony of desperate longing even as Harry offers her best-friend a smile. A smile that Jasper would have never guessed to be false without his understanding of the situation.
"Yep. I got to see him once before he died here, he died with kids and grandkids and great grandkids."
"That's good, I'm just, so happy you're happy Harry. We love you."
"I love you all too," Harry whispers as the brunette disappears and the mountain side grows silent again.
In the silence, the absence of their heartbeats is loud and clear, and Jasper bundles Harry tighter into his arms, allowing the snow to clump around them.
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They don't move for several hours.
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Twenty-Four
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Despite the camera's primary objective being to capture their adventures around the world, it is not the only thing Harry has been using the clever little picture capturer for.
A day before his birthday, Jasper returns to the hotel to find Harry absent, a note left in place of her with instructions.
A birthday treasure hunt, her written word claims, and Jasper finds his attention peaking in interest.
At the bottom of the note is a number and a word. It takes Jasper two hours to figure out the word is actually an acronym for the book upon American history he has been reading, and when he flips to the correct page number, his eyes widen.
Slotted between the pages is a photograph of Harry.
She is reclining upon the very bed he currently sits atop, in nothing but a pair of silken black panties.
'Laid on this bed, thinking about you, I remember when we first meet, it was all because of a building of books,' is scrawled across the label, two kisses upon the end of the message.
He spends nearly an hour staring at the picture of Harry, laid out on the sheets with only a gathering of petals around her before he recognises the next clue. For certainly there were no cherry blossom petals on the bed now.
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After painstaking questions with the locals and finally finding one that spoke English, Jasper finds himself at the nearby park, where the cherry blossom trees are all blooming brilliantly, even beneath the cloudy sky. Nailed to one tree and clearly hidden from human eyes by Harry's gift is a letter with his name upon it.
Jasper tears it free, opening up the thin envelope to reveal a second photo. Harry is sat in one of the trees, now clothed in a dress, red curls flowing over one shoulder to expose a sharp collarbone. The picture itself was taken when the sun was shining, and there are patches of sparkling skin where the light has penetrated through the tree leaves.
'While the blooms are pretty, I don't quite appreciate the smell as much as the first handful of bluebells you gave me, so I'm going for a historical dip'.
Pocketing the photo, Jasper glances up and notes the dark blue and red bracelet, made of powerfully coloured threads all braided together. Any doubt that this is meant for him dies a swift death when he notes the tiny 'pulse of my heart' worked into the pattern.
He finds himself at the oldest onsen in the general vicinity three hours later, acquiring another letter, another picture and another present.
'I made some friends, who taught me how to tie my kimono. Now I just need to go buy a lucky one to wear for you, so you may take it off beneath the stars'.
Harry smiles up at him, submerged in the water right up to her chin, and he can only just make out the subtle curves of her body through the steaming liquid.
In the background, three other women, Japanese and clearly human, are giggling between themselves. He scans through the writing again, a translated map of the area spread out before him, and he zones in on the shopping district, which will probably be the location of his next clue. A pair of traditional Japanese sandals are what he acquires that time, before taking off for the next location.
The shop is known as the lucky star in the native language, and it is just before closing hours that Japser slips inside. Within, a no nonsense elderly woman who sneers at his blatant American accent shoves a parcel into his arms and forcibly bundles him from the door. Given that she doesn't look that much younger than Jasper's actual age, it's quite surprising.
Regardless, when he unwraps the papers, he finds a exquisitely simple kimono inside, dark blue edged with an easy white finish.
There's a photo of Harry once again, though only a headshot this time, focusing more on looking upon the mirror behind her. She's once again in her underwear, clearly in the middle of a fitting. The shot those justice to the curve of her backside, Jasper concludes.
'There's a lot of stars in the sky, much more than I could possibly count. I remember that night we spent attempting to do so. But bursts of fire would be much brighter,'
It takes a while to find the fireworks factory, and by then it is a mere hour from midnight, a mere hour from his birthday. There's no workers inside, all is silent save the very quiet humming of a record player. Given that the tune is American, Jasper assumes it is meant for him.
It takes a moment of recall, but he knows this song, it had been one of those playing when he danced with Harry, just after they married. This time, there are no words upon the photograph, only the image of a hill. He knows which one it is already, for it is but a thirty second run from their hotel.
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Upon his arrival, fireworks light up the night's sky, and Harry is stood there, looking beautiful in that exotic kimono, the earthy golds and greens doing wonders for her. Cherry blossoms are scattered artfully in her hair, her hands clasped in front of her body as he approaches.
Jasper stops, just before her and smiles, projecting all of the love and happiness he feels towards this woman out, to make her aware of just how lucky he feels to be graced with her presence in his life.
"Happy birthday."
And he doesn't need an endearment on the ends of that sentence to hear her clear love for him.
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He's going to have to think of something spectacular for her birthday.
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Twenty-Five
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They return to America well travelled.
They have a vast array of gifts hidden away in Harry's ever expanding pouch -mostly clothes for Rosalie, but Jasper gathers she'll quite appreciate them- ready to distribute to the Cullen coven. It is upon their return however, that they find out Carlisle's intended destination.
"Forks," Jasper repeats cautiously, sharing a look with Harry as he does so. If it is the Forks Jasper is thinking of, then it is the one dangerously close to the shifters of La Push, dangerously close to Sirius Black's descendants. Descendants who would burst into animal form upon the proximity of so many vampires.
"Do you know it?" Carlisle cautiously asks, his amber eyes narrowing in consideration.
"My godfather's descendants live at La Push," Harry confirms, running a hand through her hair and sighing heavily as she does so, the fact she has picked this up as a nervous tick, ingrained behaviour, shows how often she feels the need to express her anxiety to those around her.
"These descendants-"
"They can change into canine," Harry confirms, "some kind of cross between Sirius' grim form and a wolf."
At this, Carlisle gives a tight smile, slowly seating himself at the table for what looks to be a long discussion.
Pulling out a chair, Jasper ensures that Harry is sitting comfortably before he takes his own seat, fingers encircling Harry's wrist and coming to rest just where her pulse would be, had she a beating heart.
"A few decades ago, we settled down to live not too far away from La Push. Subsequently, it was not too long until we met the natives of the land..."
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They learn of the treaty between the natives of La Push and the Cullen Coven that day.
Harry is devastated to realise she will no longer be able to visit Sirius' grave.
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Jasper holds her close and wonders just when the world will stop trying to ruin their happiness.
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Twenty-Six
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It would have been too suspicious for them to all have been in the same year. As such, coins were flipped, bets were made and arm wrestles happened.
When the dust settled, it has been concluded that Harry, Alice and Edward were to pose as the trio a year younger than the other 'Cullen kids'. They were all to be Carlisle's adopted children, all but Harry who now finds herself claiming to be Carlisle's third cousin, orphaned a scant four years ago and now living with her closest blood relative. Her background options are a bit more varied than the others, given that she has yet to lose her English accent. In fact, throughout all these years it has yet to give a hint of weakening.
Jasper loves it.
Watching her flick through the course books, swearing beneath her breath at once again over attending school when this time last year they were exploring Indian, is quite amusing.
It will be a different experience, because no matter how many times they have run through his whole play, Harry always makes it interesting. Jasper is reasonably certain he could do nothing other than sit in a meadow for years, and as long as he has Harry by his side, he will never find a fault with it, would never wish for something else to do.
Harry's bare feet are in his lap, toenails painted a bewitching mixture of scarlet and gold, occasionally flexing as she reads one thing or another in her textbook.
One of Jasper's hands holds up a small novella, fiction with a surprisingly accurate characterisation of confederate army soldiers. With his other hand lazily clasping one of Harry's shins, his thumb and fingers stroke gently at her ankle, the flesh smooth beneath his touch.
Around them Rosalie flutters about, attempting to decided just what would be best to wear upon her first day of school.
Jasper himself has already picked out a fetching navy shirt, the same one he had last worn on Harry's birthday. He had not missed the way her eyes followed the flexing of his forearms, the sleeves rolled up to just above his elbows, exposing scar-riddled skin. He knows Harry has a thing for his forearms, knows it by the way her hands always run up and down them, how she takes the time to kiss each bite mark one by one, as if thankful that while he might have gotten bitten he'd at least walked away from all those fights.
The fact that the last time he wore this shirt, Harry hadn't so much as ripped it off him as sensually unbuttoned it in a carefully controlled manner, rubbing her body up against his as she did so, has no impact on his decision to wear it again. No, that excuse leans more towards the fact that the last time he'd seen this shirt, Harry had been wearing it herself, padding about the house on a 'lazy day' where they had just read books, played video games and enjoyed one another's company. While he no doubt looks good in the shirt, Harry wears it better than him. Far better.
"Have you read this! NASA is seriously considering revoking Pluto's status as a planet!" The outrage in Harry's words has Jasper sniggering into his book, flicking his gaze to look upon Harry from the corner of his eyes. There she is, showcasing her years of studying astronomy.
"Maybe you should right them a strongly worded letter," Jasper jokes, pressing his thumb into the sole of Harry of foot and to begins gentle massage.
She settled back a bit, lips in a pout as she stares down at the text that had provided the offending news.
"Maybe I will."
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Twenty-Seven
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When they start school, Jasper and Harry abstain from going in Edward's car with him, even if Rosalie has to be the one driving. Because neither Edward or Alice are 'old enough' to legally drive yet.
Jasper finds the whole thing hilarious.
Harry is in the same boat, but she doesn't much mind, not with how they are getting to school. The bike they ride on is a certified antique, older than all other motorbikes in this world. Mainly because Harry had brought it with her when she's hopped dimensions. She'd admitted that, back when she saw Sirius for the last time she'd tried passing it off to him, but the man had refused, stating he'd feel much better trusting the device with Harry's welfare.
That is how Jasper and Hariel end up driving up to school on the 'Marauders' bike. In all truth, it's only thanks to Rosalie's miracle hands that the bike works at all, and she's still trying to fix the sidecar. Not that they really need it at the moment.
When they stopped at a traffic-light, Harry had casually pointed out the three mystery buttons all had different effects. One would have them up in the air flying, the second would turn both them and the bike invisible -not that they really needed to be such a thing, given Harry's gift- and the last one would have the bike spitting fire from the exhaust pipe. That one had amused Jasper the most.
Kicking out the stand, Jasper slides off of the bike after Harry, pulling off his own helmet before helping the redhead with hers. Not that she needs help, but his dear wife is always happy to play along with his gentlemen sensibilities. She finds it endearing.
"Ready to go?" Alice asks, bouncing over from where Rosalie has parked up Edward's Volvo.
The rest of the Cullens are standing close by, studiously ignoring the stares of all the student body, already well practiced with the ritual that is the first day of school.
The clouds are rumbling overhead, but Harry's hair is still bright and bold, a fantastic shade of red that stands stark against his finger as he plays about with a curly tress.
"Do we really have to do this?" Harry whispers under her breath, gold eyes flashing to look over the mass they will quickly be joining. Still, so far so good, none of them have scented a singer in the crowd.
"It's not that much of a trial," Jasper murmurs, hooking Harry's arm into his own until she's pulled flushed against his side.
"When we could be at home, laid in bed, just enjoying one another's company instead?"
"Darlin' you can make those appeals all you want. Just be ready to back them up when we get home."
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With that, they both begin the new school year with a grin.
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Twenty-Eigth
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"What are they wearing?" Jessica hisses under her breath, not quite able to tear her gaze away from the Cullens.
They're usually so stylish, and yet, they've returned from winter break wearing-
Jessica tilts her head to a side, looking at the jumpers once again.
It's not that they're god awful, she supposes. While clearly homemade, they're done to the exact high-standards that she has come to expect of the Cullens. In fact, it's almost cute, certainly shows how strong the bonds are between the family.
In fact, come to think of it, the letters stamped on the front are quite adorable.
"I heard that the English one, Harry, made them," someone whispers, Jessica cannot quite tell whom given that she's too busy staring at the English girl in surprise.
It's an accepted fact that no girl will ever be able to tear Emmett Cullen away from the beautiful Rosalie Hale, simply for the fact that no one can compete with her devastating appearance.
Another thing that no one questions is that while Rosalie may have the looks department cornered, it is Hariel Potter who is the most endearing of the Cullen Clan.
As the only English native, her accent is strong, despite having being living under Carlisle Cullen's -there is some form of relation between them- care for some years. It's obvious that Jasper Hale is head over heels for the scarred redhead; it's not even like the scar's a deformity, if anything it only enhances her appearance.
Hariel Potter is the most open of the Cullens with her affections, and it is only Jasper that could possibly threaten that title. Jessica has seen the redhead bounce up to the blond, wrapping him up in homemade scarves. She has seen the blond carry the redhead's textbooks, seen him press kisses to the edge of her knuckles and just hold her hand claps to his heart. She has seen Hariel Potter just snatch up Jasper's hand one day, mount that motorcycle they both seem to share, and disappear midway through the day.
She has heard Alice Cullen grumble over the fact they ran off to go and see the circus.
No, for all that Jessica finds Jasper Hale attractive, she cannot picture him without Hariel Potter stood by his side. He just seems to, brighten when she's around.
They're rather ridiculous, with his old southern gentlemanly manners and her random gestures of clear love.
She's seen the two dancing down the corridor at one point, the kind of dance you'd see in a ballroom, not a high-school corridor. She's seen Jasper pull out Hariel's chair and always ensure she is sat comfortably before he takes his own, he always stands up from his seat whenever she approaches him; it's sweet really.
And Jessica is horribly, insanely jealous.
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Twenty-Nine
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Edward is the only one of them that ever dares to visit Carlisle at the hospital.
Jasper has a lot of admiration for his brother's control; maybe when he's been at this vegetarian thing as long as the younger vampire, then maybe he'll brave the hospital.
As it is, he's skiving off biology, given that they're testing blood today. Rosalie and Emmett have both gone off to do whatever it is they like to do alone together -Jasper is always careful to keep a cap on his power during that time, because really he doesn't need to know- and that leaves him home alone. Esme has taken both Harry and Alice off shopping, something Rosalie would have probably gone on herself, had Emmett not whisked her away to God knows where.
Sat in his shared room, curled up on the bed he and Harry don't really need but appreciate all the same, Jasper flicks through his scrapbook once again.
There's more faces now, cute little button noses, wisps of curly blond hair or wavy red, eyes on a sliding back scale from bright green to deep brown. He's reaching for the next blank page, but on flipping it over, he startles.
Because the page is not blank at all.
There's a picture there, a sketch in a style different from his own, and the image is moving.
In it is Jasper himself, laughing, smiling to the point that the little half dimple in his left cheek flashes in and out of existence. His hands are wrapped around two little legs, and there's a child sitting on his shoulders.
He has Jasper's blond hair, falling around his face in loose half-curls, the eyebrows are his, as are the jawline and lips. The boy is too young to tell just who's nose sits there, but the brilliant green eyes are easy enough to identify.
The boy is laughing too, messy half-curls a halo around his face, pudgy little fingers gripping at Jasper's hair.
Jasper has no idea how the drawing moves, though he knows Harry has spoken of being able to do so back when she was in Hogwarts. He doesn't particularly care to find out.
Instead he traces the little tagline at the bottom, 'Jasper & James', wrote in a hand that is not his.
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He spends hours just watching that little drawing, to the point Harry returns burdened with bags of clothing.
She drops it all at the door, crawling up onto their bed with him until she's nestled in his lap, and together they both just stare at the perfect representation of a dream.
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Thirty
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Another Christmas comes and goes, and Jasper finds himself stood on the very fringes of a crowd of humans.
Carlisle has been invited to a charity's undersides thrown by the hospital, thankful far away from the building itself. As such, they had all received invitations to attend too.
They've been in Forks for two years now, Jasper at last in his senior year and e sill has no idea what he is going to do once out of it. That is the one problem he has whenever he and Harry are in deep rate years, neither of them really want to move on with the next part of the charade without the other.
As such, he's been playing about with the idea of writing a book while he waits. Not just any book though, but a book on historical 'magics', cross referencing them from different cultures and pointing out human desire for the concept of magic.
No doubt it'll amuse Harry when she figures out what he's doing with his time.
"Everything okay?"
Harry slides up to stop beside him, dressed in a dress as green as her eyes had once been, a floor lengthy gown that exposes a great expanse of pale skin at the back. He can rest his hand on the uncovered skin, fingertips catching at the scar he knows comes from a dragon's tail. He still finds the whole thing ludicrous, half the stories behind Harry's scar are straight out of a fairytale, but then again, so is she. She was a witch before she became a vampire, and if that does not sum everything up, Jasper isn't sure what will.
"Ah," Harry murmurs, "my dress."
Jasper hums, stepping in front of her and allowing Harry to adjust the neckline without anyone able to see around him. As soon as she's done, Jasper takes her hand in his, kissing her knuckles, then the back of her palm, her wrist. He'd have continued upwards towards her face had a cough not interrupted them.
Jasper does not allow Harry's hand to drop though, instead reeling both it and her closer to his chest, pressing her fingers over the still cavity of his ribcage, where a heart should have been beating.
"You are suppose to socialise at these things, you know?" Emmett snarks, ever the hypocrite, a playful grin on his face.
Jasper does not to point out the fact Rosalie has yet to leave his arm throughout the whole thing, it's already loud and clear in the way the blonde sneers at an approaching male, one won is quick to perform an about turn.
"Please, why would we ever need to socialise with the humans?" Rosalie snaps, the disgust visible on her face.
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A fortnight later, when a new human joins Forks' only school, Jasper cannot even find it in himself to be surprised.
.
.
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Right, anot her word of warning I guess; I haven't read any Twilight books for sevenish years; I don't even own them. So please excuse any glaring errors.
Confession #2; This is all wrote on my phone, excuse any grammar mistakes, please?
Tsume
xxx
