Okay guys. I'm just going to go ahead and say it: no, I am not looking for any PAID artist for my FREE stories. I make absolutely no money in writing... well, anything. Not even my own works make any money. Everything I have written and drawn are all avaliable online for free. I don't even waterwork my art. Sign yes. But it's all still free. This is a hobby. I am not writing or drawing for money. Also, all of you artist claiming to be professionals wanting to turn my writings into art work for money should also take into account that it is illegal to sell copyrighted products under your own name. People have even gotten sued over tattoos of the products so please do be weary.

On another note: this one about the story. If this chapter seems to take like, I don't know, 90 degree turn in the middle of it, it's because it does. I tried to smooth it out but, who knows. Someone had sent me a PM which almost immediately caused me to change my stance in the chapter. Before I was going to ease everyone into Harry's home life but now I realize my view on Harry's life and others is only half compatible. Hopefully, I fixed it.

~Loner

"This class is just regular algebra correct?" Harry asked, not really expecting an answer. He was currently sitting at his desk, flipping through the stacks of papers looking for his notes for the second day of school. Apparently, for some reason the years were split up depending on the day, which wasn't surprising in the grand scheme of things, after all Hogwarts did the same. No, it just surprised Harry that Forks High-school had enough students to follow the conventional school schedule. Honestly, he thought giving every period 45 minutes with a 5 minute leeway to get to classes a bit ridiculous. What was he supposed to teach for 45 minutes? No wonder the school systems here weren't as advanced as the others.

Despite the question being rhetorical, a familiar monotone voice answered his question, "Yes."

Harry paused in the middle of shaking out his copy of the text book over his desk, hoping something related to the class would fall out and, if not outright tell him, at least, give him a clue on what he had planned for today. Harry's green eyes shot up to look at the familiar brown haired youth that hadn't seemed to changed , except for his eye color. The DYI teacher froze as his whole being seemed to hit the emergency reboot button in its surprise.

Jasper looked as gorgeous as he had always been to Harry, even with the new eye color. The lips that haunted his dreams at night looked just as delicious as they always had. Straight nose that seemed to plump up at the end just enough to avoid the mountain peek type nose, giving it a handsomely high born look. Coupled with the honey brown hair and immaculate eyebrows, Jasper was like soft honey in human form… er, vampire form? Those once red eyes, which had once looked sharp and mincing on his pale face, had given way to a more golden brown color giving the kid a much needed softer touch.

Just looking at the striking figure in front of him, Harry could feel his insides melt. His mind couldn't help but think Jasper looked like a bottle of honey. The wizard didn't mind getting sticky with him.

Harry had to mentally slap himself out of his stupefied state before his subconscious mind took him any farther down the rabbit hole. Not when he had to get up in a few minutes to teach a room full of children. "Thank you, Mr. Whit-" he stopped himself, suddenly realizing there wasn't a Whitlock on his roll sheet. He tried to discreetly glance at the roll call sheet, having to slid another random sheet of paper over a bit to see the full list. "Cullen," he, finally, finished.

Jasper gave him a small amused smile, having noticed Harry's actions but saying nothing about it. It had been years since they had last seen each other. Jasper had to admit, the other man wasn't looking so well. Harry had dark circles around his eyes now, a sign of extreme lack of sleep, which added a brightening effect to his emerald green eyes. The man's hair, which had always been styled in a wind swept sort of style, looked disheveled like the man had ran his hands through both sides of his hair one too many times. From what Jasper could see of the man's clothes from his side of the desk, they were wrinkled, not the 'I grabbed these from the basket' kind but the 'fuck this will due' kind of wrinkled. Harry Black clearly didn't want to be here and it showed.

"You're welcome," Jasper replied.

As Jasper walked away, intent on grabbing a seat in the back of the classroom, Harry mentally cursed himself. What were the chances that one of the coven vampires he was supposed to be supervising happen to be a vampire he was majorly crushing on… still.

If Harry didn't already hate this assignment, he sure the hell did now. Jasper had made it very clear, years ago when he ghosted Harry in the coffee shop, that Jasper didn't share the same feelings as Harry did.

Harry didn't know how he made it though the class without drooling over Jasper, who sat there acting like he was listening intently. A few times, he found himself gravitating towards the kid and had to turn abruptly on his heel to stop himself. He was full of questions like: where have you been? Where did you go? Why did you leave? All the questions made him feel like the clingy, possessive boyfriend who had to know where the other was at all times. Harry found it hard to keep focused at times.

It was so incredibly frustrating to have the object of his desire right there in front of him but not being able to react to it. He was using occlumency to keep himself under control and focus on teaching. Any time his traitorous brain tried to will a scenario between him as a teacher and Jasper as a student into fruition, he would immediately throw the idea into a box and shove it to the back of his mind with all the other boxes of unsolicited ideas.

By the end of the class, Harry was in a fowl mood and his head throbbed so badly he almost collapsed at his desk. A whole year. He would have to endure this for a whole, mother f-ing, year.

Harry groaned miserably, his head dropping into folded arms across the messy desk.

Jasper followed his classmates out of the classroom. On the outside, Jasper kept a calm demeanor, face perfectly blank of all emotions. However, on the inside, Jasper was chiding himself.

He had known he had walked into Harry's proximity when he felt the dampening effects of the mate bond begin working its magic on him on the way to class. The emotions that were purely Harry had started with a caress on his own ability at first. The subtle irritation and annoyance nagged at him like an itch he couldn't scratch slowly increasing with every step he took towards his class. Then, as the outsiders emotions became clearer, the secondary emotions (the less obvious or minor ones that weren't as strong) started to bleed through as he paused at the door: homesickness and longing. Jasper knew his Harry was on the other side of the classroom door.

Despite being the first one there, Jasper waited outside the door, debating what to do. He had the unexplainable urge to run away again. He couldn't seem to stomp the feeling out completely. Really, he sneered at his own cowardly behavior, I thought we were over this.

As a human, Jasper had always had extreme anxiety when facing his own emotions. It was what had compelled him to focus more on others. Before the war that ultimately took his life, the ability to ignore what he personally felt, had gotten him (and occasionally friends) out of tough spots. After being in listed into the military, he didn't have the luxury to feel anything. He had seen what happened when the emotions got to be too much during war time, and it only further reinforced the need to push his own emotions out of his mind.

After becoming a vampire, his need to ignore his own feelings had triggered his ability to feel other's instead. Jasper had always thought he was doomed to forever drowned in the emotions of the others around him. Of course, because of the circumstances of his turning, he had learned to control it fast. Quickly discovering he not only had the ability to feel the emotions like they were his own, but, also had the ability to manipulate those emotions to a degree. It was thanks to this ability of his that he had survived for so long.

The reason Jasper had agreed to get to know Harry was because his ability didn't work on the man. He had been intrigued at first and had wanted to try and find out why. Then, later, he had started to enjoy the quiet that came with being in the man's presence. At times, Jasper couldn't feel anything at all from Harry like he could turn off his emotions, and he was left with just his own feelings. It had been a refreshing change. Jasper hadn't realized how straining it was to always be drowning in the emotions of others until that day.

Harry Potter had fought and bled for his people when these children were just starting to grow hair in places they dare not mention, even to their parents. So, it was little wonder that when he got home, the first thing he did was collapse on to the couch, body spiraled out with no decorum, arm thrown over his face like he was trying to hide away. He hadn't even bothered to turn on the light when he walked through the door, nor did he toe off the god forsaken uncomfortable shoes before letting his body fall. He laid just like that with his eyes closed, his tired body too comfortable to move even if he looked a little awkward from an outside perspective. Unsurprisingly, the last thought in his sluggish brain wasn't about whether or not he closed the door behind him or the idiotic papers he reluctantly needed to grade sometime today, but weather he had a meeting in the morning or afternoon Saturday.

Harry's days were long, what with teaching kids for 8 hours a day, making sure no one stabbed anyone in the eye with a pencil or something on accident for reasons unknown, and grading papers of said brainless morons. However, Harry's nights were longer. He had maybe an hour before the early dinner clients (ei. The older and- depending on the location- early morning people) started calling him on his work phone, some asking him out for food, some just wanting a break down on what ever business deal they shared. Then, when he finally finished with the clients, he had to speak with his employees and get an update on the company , future plans to what ever department developments for the next week, resolve all in house fires… the list of things to do never stops.

Most of the time, Harry enjoyed the rush of being the head to a multi-million dollar company. The thrill of being in charge of something so large and keeping it successful was like applying ointment to old wounds for him. No one expected him to be successful in anything, not even himself. His abusive up bring had smothered all flames of hope and confidence from his being. It wasn't until after the war, the moment he realized he was still alive when he should have been dead, that Harry began to feel something akin to hope. Of course, thanks to the war, he had confidence in spades. Hope, though, wasn't even in the list of emotions until his rebirth.

It was funny how everything had changed. It was almost like… with the end of the war, come a new perspective on everything, an instant 180 degree change. The moment Voldemort had exhaled his last breath, he had breathed life into his surroundings for Harry. Harry potter had gotten his life back that day.

Of course, he was still traumatized. Years of therapy had told him so. He had still lost his life completely when the killing curse hit him that day in the forest. The deadly hollows had told him that when they kept following him like strays looking for a home.

Harry awoke with a jerk when the shrill sound of his phone suddenly cut through the silence. "I'm up," he involuntarily spouted out, his brain not yet functioning. He groaned, shifting his feet fully to the floor so he was sitting on the couch normally instead of sprawled out like a drunkard. Taking a moment, Harry sat there listening to the ringing of his phone, staring dazedly at it. A part of him unwilling to do more than sleep the night away.

Alas, the day must go on. Harry reached out to the phon. "Harry Black," he said his name as a way of answering. Not that the person on the other line didn't already know who he was, but it never hurt to let them know anyway.

"Ah, Mr. Black," the person on the other end sounded way too jolly to Harry at the moment….

Life as a CEO was annoying….