Disclaimer: Oh, yes, I have no claim to any recognizable characters, places, situations, or cliches.
A/N: We all feel the urge to play with this scene in Twilight.
II. Biology
This must be a form of torture, Edward thought. Punishment for sins of the past…
The faintest breath of rain-filled air drifted through the open window and over Bella Swan's shoulder. A short, wispy strand of dark hair fluttered about the new student's forehead, wafting more of that insidious scent in Edward's direction. Oh, how he loathed the wall of silence cutting off that mind. All he needed right then was a single thought—homework questions, relationship worries, a shopping list, a set of song lyrics—anything to distract him from the burning thirst! Edward's hand jerked reflexively into a fist, fingernails scraping some of the paint from the table.
Bella glanced at him from the corner of her eye—curious, perhaps drawn to his predatory perfection. Fortunately, she withheld from making small talk. Something about his expression must have alarmed her, because her eyes darted quickly back to the chalkboard, and her mouth set in a mulish line. She tried to sniff her clothing discretely, and Edward would have chuckled at any other time. Instead, he exhaled, trying to expunge every hint of that drug from his senses. Edward's face scrunched in disgust at his own weakness. Unintentionally, his action caused a fiery blush to swarm Bella's cheeks. The sound of her accelerated heartbeat, and the fragrance of warm, youthful blood, sent the last of his teetering self-control over the edge.
Don't let go, Edward! Think of Carlisle—
Edward's teeth clenched as cold, venomous saliva filled his mouth, dripping down the back of his throat and igniting it. He'd never wanted anything more in his second life than a sip of that forbidden ambrosia. It was like freesia, honeysuckle, chocolate, wine,water, stars, light, fire, blood—
Mine!
And it would be so easy, he mused, forcing down a guilty shudder. I'm faster than the others. I could pounce and be done with the deed in seconds—before Jasper or Alice could even try to stop me. Or I could wait a few hours, follow the human home—I could make it look like an accident on the road, the big city fool driving too fast on a wet, winding road…
A strangled whisper of "Protego Olfactus!" caught Edward's attention, dragging his rebellious mind away from temptation like a shrieking, petulant child. His sense of smell was gone, but Edward ignored that as he stopped breathing altogether. Horror and shame warred upon his face, and the venom in his stomach threatened to come back up.
I almost ended an innocent life—Carlisle would have been so disappointed! And what about our cover? Would I have stopped at one feeding, or slaughtered the entire class in my bloodlust?
Edward shied away from the thought. Where was his vaunted self-control now? How could a single, pathetic human unleash the monster that Edward kept so tightly suppressed? Fury rose in his chest now, which rumbled with a growl too low for human ears. He wanted to hate the source of that maddening scent. Edward looked away from the table—dented by his fingerprints—to glare darkly at the boy sitting one row over, on the opposite side of Bella.
The human boy seemed rather unremarkable to Edward. His skin was pale, almost sickly, and sleepless shadows were visible beneath his horn-rimmed glasses. His hair was dark and untidy. His clothes were careworn and a size too large. Edward would have dismissed him without hesitation on a normal day—and that would be his undoing.
Edward's keen sight noted a faint mark upon the boy's forehead—a cut shaped like lightning.
Emerald eyes met his unexpectedly. They narrowed in consideration, and then the new student quirked an eyebrow at Edward's lab partner. Bella, who was sitting as far away from Edward as physically possible—a wise decision—mouthed a single, pleading word back:
"Switch?"
The boy nodded, and Bella sagged with relief. Edward realized that his eyes must be as dark as pitch, the muscles in his neck bulging with tension—it was no wonder the girl felt threatened by his proximity. As soon as Mr. Banner instructed the class to begin, the room broke out into noisy chatter, and the two humans quickly changed seats. Bella gave Edward a fleeting backward glance, and then offered a polite smile to her new tablemate, Mike Newton. Mike grinned smugly, and Edward didn't need to be a mind reader to guess the subject of his thoughts.
That vulgar waste of space. I'd be doing the world a favor if I—
Edward twitched violently, and then stiffened to the point of ruining his mortal façade. He couldn't stay here. His nerves were completely shot, and Edward could only imagine what his siblings were feeling. Even scattered throughout the small, clustered school buildings, they would be able to sense Edward's panic. Alice had to have seen his near miss… How badly he wanted to tear open that slender throat and drain every drop of life-sustaining liquid…
The boy leaned toward Edward to speak, and the vampire jerked away in panic. "Are you alright now?" His voice was soft and clear, with a full British accent.
He's too close—that scent—
Was gone?
As if Edward had spoken aloud, the boy answered, "Don't worry, I took care of it. I don't quite understand why you were so affected by my blood—of all the rotten luck—but you won't smell a thing now. I can also fix the table, if you like."
Without waiting for an answer from the otherwise stunned vampire, the boy pulled out a slender piece of wood and waved it over Edward's hand. "Reparo." The solid sheet of metal beneath his fingertips smoothed out, and the finish gleamed like new.
Edward blinked in shock. The situation was so far out of his comfort zone, that Edward wondered if he was still trapped in a blood-crazed fantasy.
"What are you?" he asked, unable to form a more subtle query.
"Oh! Excuse me," the boy grinned and held out his empty hand, "I'm Harry Potter—just moved across the pond—and I never expected to meet a vampire in a muggle high school! You Americans are bloody unbelievable!"
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