/-/

You be the moon I'll be the earth

And when we burst

start over oh darling,

begin again

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purity ring

(one week prior)

The recipe was indeed the perfect gift. The moment he'd heard of it he knew he had to track down the obscure cookbook and make them for Edward. Never mind the fact he couldn't bake; the vampire would probably appreciate that Harry had found it at all.

But if it truly was that perfect, then why was he sitting here, staring nervously into the pleasant face of apparent vampire royalty? Or wait, no, he said he worked for the royalty? Harry couldn't actually remember. He was far too embarrassed about why he asked to meet with Alec outside of their inopportune run-ins at the bank. At any rate, the vampire looked far too amused at Harry's predicament, leaning in his chair with a delighted smirk.

"I'm impressed," he commented, after the waitress had brought their tea. Obviously he had no intention of drinking it, but all the same it was the least obtrusive—and most reputable—establishment in Knockturn Alley, and Harry had always been meaning to try it out. He took a sip of his tea. Not bad. "Where exactly did you even find a reference to the potion?"

"It's a long story, actually," Harry rubbed the back of his head with a laugh. "You see, I have this… interesting friend Luna who wanted me to get these fruits called Gurdyroot, or maybe it's considered a legume? At any rate, she wanted them to make this powder that apparently gets rid of these things called Gulping Pimplies, which like make your brain go fuzzy or something. I'm not entirely sure—to be honest, I'm fairly sure they don't exist. But she's rather insistent on those sort of things, so I decided to humor her…"

Alec blinked at him, slowly.

Harry flushed, realizing he was rambling. "Right, so, anyway. She was actually making the powder from this cooking magazine, that mentioned these blood cakes, and she helped me track down the original book—

"St. Januaris cakes?" Alec's brow rose in surprise.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Those ones."

The vampire made an impressed noise.

"We found the recipe in a really obscure, possibly banned text book on illegal uses of blood..." He flushed further, "And well, you know, they have real blood in them, so you kind of have to use your own… Or I suppose you could get someone else's, but that's a little gross…"

The vampire waved an impatient hand. "Yes, yes—and…?"

"It was mentioned in the bibliography that there are a few other, um, obscure vampire-related potions that also require real human blood…" He shifted uneasily, well and truly red in the face at this point. "And it didn't say much else. I couldn't find anything else about it anywhere—and I thought, well, you're the only other vampire you know so it was worth a shot to ask."

Harry shivered then. "It was either this or asking his father, which would be… weird."

Alec laughed. "Yes, I think you chose the better alternative." He enthused with a curling smirk. "Incidentally, I do know the potion you're talking about—and I'm fairly sure I can get the recipe to you."

Harry perked up immediately at that. "Really? Would you?"

"Sure." Alec shrugged. "To be honest, my coven and I don't have much use for it. As you know, it requires a sacrifice of human blood—a voluntary one, at that. Not to mention it's uses are… very specific, and not particularly useful for us, if you know what I mean."

The young wizard, if possible, looked even more embarrassed. Alec watched him tear his napkin into nervous shreds with no small amount of amusement. He marveled at the boy, really; how could someone look so utterly enchanting, without even meaning to? He almost felt sorry for whatever vampire was so enamored with the wizard; he was probably head over heels for the boy and had no chance of ever getting out of it.

"Ah, yeah, I can imagine the opportunity doesn't come up all that often." Harry agreed, smiling.

"And you know you'll need his blood as well, right?" Alec pressed on.

Harry nodded. "I don't think I could somehow sneak a drop out of him, so I'll probably have to tell him. But I want it to be a surprise, so I'll probably tell him right before." He replied.

"Well I don't think it has an expiration date or anything." Said the vampire. And then, he advised cautiously, "But remember it only lasts for an hour or so. So don't get too over-enthusiastic."

Harry turned bright red all over again, laughing weakly. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind." He sputtered in response.

The vampire leaned over the table, tenting his hand and resting upon them as he observed the boy with gleaming eyes. "I'm actually rather impressed you know so much about vampire culture. Most wizards are so ignorant of anything out of their diminutive domain."

"Well, to be fair, it's really because my friend is such a bookworm." Harry returned, modest. "Although I really don't agree with the wizard bigotry. I daresay the centaurs are a thousand times smarter than I'm even capable of knowing, and that's to say nothing of the goblins…"

Alec smiled softly at him. "Yes, they probably are." It was oddly reassuring to hear the boy say that; maybe one day the magical world really could change, if this boy had any say in its future. And considering who Harry was, he probably would have quite the part to play in the upcoming years.

A sobering thought struck him then. Assuming he does live to see those years. The Volturi kept keen ears in the wizarding world, and right now things did not seem to be going well. An ominous shadow had besieged the continent, one that he had seen before.

It was truly unfortunate for such a fate to befall on such a sweet boy. It was very difficult to forget just how young he was; to remember the innumerable years he had on the boy. And even then, he did not feel he was prepared for a destiny like that.

"I'll have to repay you for it somehow," Harry was in the middle of saying, when he stirred out of his dark thoughts. "I'm sure it's a priceless artifact at this point."

He shook his head. "Nonsense. Consider it an early Christmas present." And then, perhaps with even a bit of regret and sadness. "Just… enjoy it, yeah?"

The boy flushed again, but nodded. "I'll be sure to do so."

.

.

.

Harry pulled away after what felt like hours, leaning back to give himself some space. He chanced a glance at the kitchen clock; it had actually only been a few seconds.

He smiled up at the other boy, reticent and breathless. He felt significantly less nervous when Edward returned the smile. He also was besieged by an incredible unwillingness to move away. So he didn't. Instead his hands trailed down to trace the hem of his sweater, just—touching. Feeling the other boy around him. It felt perfectly normal to lean in against him, resting his head against his shoulder, fitting their hips together.

He was so content he probably could have fallen asleep like that, but a sudden thought stirred him back to reality.

"Oh!" He jumped away, surprising the vampire. "Your present!"

Edward blinked rapidly, feeling a relief douse him like refreshing water. He'd thought he'd done something to upset the young wizard.

"You don't have to give it to me now," Edward pointed out. Especially when I'd prefer to get on to other things.

"Well yes," Harry agreed, hesitation clear in his eyes as he stilled in his attempt to go and fetch it. "But… I thought you'd want to go back to your house for Christmas morning..."

Edward wasn't sure how to take this. Was this Harry pushing him away? It didn't seem like it, exactly… he could just be reading too far into things. Or maybe he wasn't reading into it enough. Hell.

"I still have to give you yours," Edward returned, quietly.

Harry flashed him a blinding smile. "Oh, okay. I can just bring yours with me then."

He turned back to the cupcakes, which he had assumed were his gifts. "But you—

"Actually, that might take too long. I'll just give it to you later." The brunette cut him off.

The vampire blinked, brain catching up to him. Wait "You'll come with me?" He managed to say, after some time.

Harry bit his lip, a sudden skittishness overtaking him. "Well, um, it's okay if you don't want me to, I get that people have all sorts of traditions…"

"That's not it at all!" Edward was quick to reassure. "I was just—surprised, I guess. Don't you want to stay with everyone here?"

Harry made a vague noise of assent. "They'll all be returning to their houses. I'll see them again though later in the day; we always have Christmas dinner at the Burrow."

Huh. "Well in that case, I'd love for you to come." He answered, sincerely.

He decided he could get quite used to the lovely color upon Harry's cheeks—he wondered how often he could make it bloom there.

"Oh—uh, great! Let me just give a quick goodbye before we head out."

.

.

.

The wizard darted off into the crowd, leaving Edward totally out of sorts and grasping to remember how to think. Harry always seemed to have that effect on him, like the boy just plucked each and every thought out of his head with just a glance in his direction. And it wasn't as if he had even an inkling of whatever went on in Harry's head—it was utterly impossible to tell what the boy was thinking, and he was really beginning to hate that feeling.

He felt as if his whole body was shaking, but that was absurd. He was a vampire—he was fairly sure his nervous system didn't work like that anymore. But it sure felt like someone had shot him with a dose of adrenaline, as his eyes kept resolutely staring at the young boy in front of him; staring at him like prey. The thought sickened him, and he forced himself to look away.

There was a roar of uproarious laughter from the living room, and from the doorway he could see a lot of redheads leaping about—leaping onto Harry, it seemed, if the boy's loud protests were anything to go by. Edward smiled at that; he didn't feel any jealousy towards all these people. If anything, he was glad for them—glad to know that Harry was well taken care of.

The boy threw his assailants off, darting out of the room as he attempted to tame the artless mess he called hair. Considering it was untamable on the best of days, this was a lost cause. Edward felt his heart skip a beat when Harry looked up at him with a breathless smile, dropping his hand and moving towards him. Or well he would have, if his heart could beat anyway.

"You ready to go?" Harry treaded back into his space, so close he can feel the warmth of him like a drift of sweetness upon his skin.

He returned the smile, reaching out to pull the boy closer, just because he could. Harry let himself be tugged into the circle of his arms, looking perfectly comfortable there, as if he was always meant to be there. He looked down; Harry was relaxed against him, eyes closed, resting his head against his shoulder.

"We don't have to go right now," Edward murmured, quietly, unwilling to break the moment.

Harry made an indecipherable noise.

"It's pretty late," the vampire noted. "We can go first thing in the morning—you look exhausted."

He made another noise that could have meant anything. Edward was reminded that Harry probably hadn't gotten a very good sleep last night, if his dreams were anything to go by. And he probably hadn't gotten a full night's rest in some time.

One of his hands found its way into the mess Harry called hair, getting forever tangled in the curls. "You want to sleep it off for a bit?"

It took Harry a beat to reply, and then he was grumbling in exasperation. "It's alright," he sighed, finally. "It's going to be impossible to sleep with all this noise anyway."

Edward smirked, a thought occurring to him. "Who said you had to sleep here?"

Harry blinked, and he could see it when the implication dawned on the other boy, for a lovely blush found its way onto his face again. He wondered if that was too forward too soon; even if he had honestly just meant… sleeping. No foul play involved. After all, he and Harry hadn't even discussed what they were to each other now. He could easily be reading far too much from a kiss or two.

But then Harry shot him a relieved smile. "That would be great, actually."

Edward didn't think he'd ever quite get used to apparition, even if he could acknowledge how useful it was a method of transportation. It made him dizzy, which was absurd. When was the last time he'd ever heard of a vampire getting dizzy?

He shook himself out of his thoughts as Harry gave an involuntary yawn, pawing sleepily at his eyes. Edward looked down at the other boy with an expression of fondness.

Harry smiled softly when he noticed Edward watching him; his hand was still clasped tightly with Edward's, and he didn't appear to be all that willing to let go.

The vampire held him just as tightly, leading him up the walkway to his house, completely unable to contain his excitement. He turned back to look at the young wizard, as if to remind himself that Harry was still there. Predictably his house was noiseless when they arrived, and he tried as hard as possible to give off do-not-disturb vibes with his thoughts. Who knew if that was actually going to work—more than likely they'd all just ignore it, being the nosey fucks they were. Or maybe Alice had already seen this happening, and had found a way to lock everyone up in the basement.

Either way, there was not an overwhelming group of vampires waiting for them when they walked in, and Edward breathed a sigh of relief. He tugged the boy up the stairs; Harry followed without complaint, quiet, but not uncomfortably so.

His room was pitch dark in the early-morning gloom, so he guided the boy in with a light touch against the small of his back, drawing him towards the bed. Harry didn't waste any time flopping face first onto it, giving a sigh of contentment as he wiggled about on the sheets.

The wizard mumbled incoherently, before he blinked back into awareness with a discontented pout.

The dark was no hindrance to Edward though, so he caught the look quite easily. "What's wrong?" He asked immediately, wondering if Harry could hear the fear laced at the bottom of his words.

He didn't want to do anything to make the other boy uneasy—to push him away. He was starting to notice that Harry was skittish by nature, most especially in intimate relationships. He'd observed this as their friendship had progressed; it seemed the more he got to know Harry, and the closer they became, the more he realized how wary the boy really was. He was—untrusting. Edward wondered what could have made him so cautious with people he had come to deeply care for.

"Clothes," Harry sighed, eyes drooping closed again.

Edward looked down; the other boy was still dressed in the attire he'd picked out earlier that morning, and the jacket Edward had retrieved for him.

"Stay here," he said after a moment, turning to his wardrobe and ferreting around for something that might actually be close to the wizard's size.

He couldn't find anything else but a soft, worn shirt shrunk from too many times in the wash, and a pair of sweats that weren't totally going to drown the other boy.

"Do these work?" He asked quietly, holding the clothes out to the other boy. Harry didn't even spare them a glance; he shucked off his jacket and shirt with little fanfare, and pulled the new shirt over his head.

Edward swallowed, looking away as the boy unceremoniously tugged his pants off as well. A very large part of him wanted to turn and look; the darkness wouldn't hide anything from him. He could imagine it as if he was seeing it—the warm, silky skin, all the dips and curves that were just waiting for Edward to discover, lost in a lining of moonlight. He shook his head. Hell, he was losing control. He looked down to see that he'd curled his hand into a fist so hard that it shook.

More rustling from the bed, and then Edward turned to see Harry cocooning himself in his sheets. He forgot how to breathe in that moment. Those sheets were going to smell like Harry. Like his skin and his soft breath, like the scent of quiet mist that clung to his hair.

Control, he reminded himself, almost like a mantra. He was the one who offered his bed up to the other boy; he should have anticipated that this would have happened.

"Edward?" Harry pulled him out of his thoughts with his low murmur. The other boy was peering up at him from his nest of blankets, a sparkle of bright green beneath a slip of downy comforter.

"Yeah?" He replied, just as low.

"Are you going to stay?"

Edward blinked, not having expected that. He noted absently that he still hadn't remembered how to breathe yet. "Um," he said, eloquently. "Yeah. I will, if you want."

Harry's smile was enchanting, even as small and insignificant as it was. The vampire settled himself carefully against the smaller boy, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.

He shifted a bit until he was more comfortable, leaving ample space between him and the wizard. It felt like he was far too aware of every single inch between them—and how easy it would be to close the distance. And god, how he wanted to. It would take no effort at all; Harry might not even notice. He hadn't been uncomfortable when he'd touched him last night, or earlier today, maybe he wouldn't even mind. He burned like warmth and sunshine; everything he'd learned to live without. But here it was, presented to him in a form far more appealing than anything he could have found in nature, soft and sleepy. Just a taste… it couldn't hurt, right?

When he leaned close he had to stifle a groan; Harry smelt like—him. Of course he did, he was wearing his shirt. It was completely logical to nudge in closer and find his own scent clinging to the downy skin. But he couldn't stop the inherent reaction in him, demanding that the boy was his. That Harry had his scent because he was his; claimed irrevocably, through body and blood, until everyone could smell it from miles away. And fuck, the idea of claiming him, right now, with Harry wearing his clothes and sleeping in his bed—

Why the hell had he thought it would be a good idea to offer up his own bed to the boy? He should have known that it would only serve to put him through hell for the majority of the night, just watching Harry sleep, tangled in his own essence, rubbing against Edward's sheets, curling around his pillow…

Edward looked down to see he'd practically torn the blanket apart in his grip. With supreme effort he released his fist, taking a long, conscious breath as he closed his eyes.

He couldn't lose control. Not now. Not ever.

If he truly wanted to pursue something with Harry, he was going to have to learn to have complete control over his impulses; he couldn't be letting it get to him like this. He could hurt him. Harry didn't understand how easily he could tear him apart—not even intentionally. But he could imagine doing… that, and losing control so conclusively that he didn't even realize what he was doing until it was too late.

He wanted to hit himself over the head with a frying pan. Thinking about Harry and sex right now was not doing anything to help him. Having sexual fantasies about his place of residence was only going to make him miserable in the long run, he reminded himself. But it was so very hard not to, when Harry was radiating warmth and magic beside him, and his soft, rhythmic breathing was the only sound in the loud silence. No, it was far too easy to imagine it; Harry beneath him, that wonderful mouth parted open as he greedily sucked in air, baring his neck to him as he arched his back. His blood would taste like nothing he'd ever tasted before. He'd gotten a tease of it; from the crackling energy that licked against his skin when Harry's magic took to the air; when he leaned in close and could smell the scent of storms beneath the boy's skin. What would it taste like, against his tongue? Something addictive, he imagined. Something he'd never be able to give up once he sucked the first drop from that lovely—

He leapt out of the bed with horror, staring down at the boy as if he was staring down at what he saw in his mind's eye; Harry gazing beneath him, miles of warm skin, heavy, searing green eyes staring up at him—lifeless, as all the blood pooled out of his body, spreading beneath him like soiled wings.

He had no need for air, and yet he was heaving for it as he drew away from the bed. Harry's form was unmoving, lined in moonspill and shadow, pale comforter casting geometric planes in the wintry light. Harry was fine. Completely and totally in danger of being devoured by a vampire as he slept, but otherwise he was perfectly fine.

Edward ran a wary hand through his hair, leaning back against the far wall, head hitting it with a dull thud.

Hell, he was in over his head. He was going crazy.

It wasn't so strange a thought, he reasoned, in defense of himself. Biting was a very intimate moment between two vampires. Perhaps even more intimate than sex. Both satisfied carnal desires, but biting symbolized mating—well and truly. It meant eternity and possession and giving up an integral part of yourself to someone else. Vampires mated for life, but that wasn't to say they were particularly monogamous. The had all of time to find their mate, and they certainly weren't staying celibate for that duration. Edward certainly hadn't stayed celibate.

But he'd never bit anyone. Not like the way Jasper has Alice, or Emmett has Rosalie—or hell, even the way Carlisle has Esme. He had no idea how he managed to be the minority in this family, considering mated vampires were few and far between. He'd never been particularly jealous of it though, perfectly content to wait until he could find someone to truly call his own.

Now though he wanted to punt Emmett's smug face out the window every time he and Rosalie emerged from god knows what broom closet, bites all over his neck. It only served to remind him that his mate was human.

That if he ever tried to bite Harry like that, he'd either turn him or kill him, and both would sever his relationship with the other boy forever.

Harry didn't want to be a vampire, that was plain to see. He also didn't appear all that interested in dying any time soon.

The vampire sighed. There was nothing to it, then. It was just going to be another one of those urges he would have to learn to control.

"Edward?" Harry's voice was thick with sleep.

He shook himself out of his thoughts.

"What is it?" He returned, quiet. Harry rolled over, an unhappy pout on his sleepy face as he looked at the vampire. He didn't say anything else, he just held a hand out, as if he was trying to summon Edward over to him the way he did small objects and pets. The thought made a small smile light across his face, as he diligently returned to the boy's side. He made his way back to the boy, whose eyes had drooped back down in the time it took him to cross the room.

Without his consent, one of his hands found its way into the impossible mop of hair, smoothing it out of his eyes.

Harry didn't say anything; he only reached out for Edwards hand, tugging his gently but insistently. Edward knew what he wanted him to do; this didn't make him any more befuddled by it. But Harry seemed to genuinely want him next to him, and something about that made his stomach flip over. Edward settled in against the other boy again, and almost immediately did Harry turn into him, nestling in closer, not at all concerned with being in such close proximity with a vampire. A vampire that wanted to do terrible, terrible things to him.

He looked down at the boy: Harry seemed to simply observe him quietly, unnerving, brilliant eyes giving nothing away. Finally, after some time under that scrutinizing gaze, his hands rose towards Edward, slow and hesitant, as if he expected Edward to somehow find the strength to push him away. When it became clear the vampire had no intention of moving, Harry inched his way over, until he could feel the boy's warmth over his own, until they were sharing the same breath, and he could see all the red in Harry's green eyes.

He didn't think he'd ever get used to kissing the other boy—kissing, and knowing that Harry wanted him to do it. Every response was a magic of its own, singing in the air between them. He mouthed against him, languid and sleepy, and so, so warm. His own hands wrapped themselves around the boy, tucking under the over-sized shirt to skim against his sides. He realized with a groan that Harry hadn't even bothered with pants, that there was nothing between them but his own flimsy shirt and a pair of boxers. The thought was almost enough to make him lose it completely, and he pulled away abruptly with a ragged gasp.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, perceptive as always.

He stiffened for a moment. "It's nothing," was his terse response. How was he supposed to tell this boy how close he'd come to being utterly ravaged? How close Edward had come to losing control?

"It's not nothing," Harry insisted, frowning. And then, frowning further he added quite seriously, "I don't want to do anything your uncomfortable with."

Edward choked on an incredulous laugh. "Shouldn't I be saying that to you?"

Harry spared him a wan smile. "I think you might need to hear it a little more than me right now."

He said nothing to this, unwillingly seeing the point to Harry's words. The wizard didn't press the issue, remaining in the circle of his arms, seeming wholly occupied and content with running his fingers through Edward's hair.

"I'm fine," Edward insisted. Lies. "Go to sleep, huh? I can guarantee you my family is going to be pulling down that door in a few hours."

He could feel the tired smile against his shoulder. "Good point." Harry agreed. His breath evened out soon after that, and Edward resigned himself to another couple hours of total hell.

.

.

.

As Edward had predicted, his family was utterly ecstatic at Harry's appearance. They hadn't actually torn down the door, but this was not to say that they wouldn't have. He had a sinking suspicion Emmett would have done it anyway just to be a nuisance, had Rosalie or Alice not bodily dragged him away before he could do so. At any rate he was glad that his family had enough tact to leave them alone until they emerged from Edward's bedroom. If only because he didn't think he could handle the idea of any of them getting to see Harry like this. Which was ridiculous; he had clothes on. It's not like they weren't decent.

Maybe the possessiveness was normal, he thought, feeling exhausted at the very idea. He could imagine it would get very tiring—not to mention annoying—to feel such a constant and unmitigated possessiveness and protectiveness over the other boy. For both of them, actually. He also couldn't imagine Harry being okay with any kind of mollycoddling.

The boy in question was rubbing his eyes sleepily—actually dressed in legitimate clothing, courtesy of Alice, who apparently had a whole wardrobe for Harry in stock at all times. Edward would find that weird, but right now he was too grateful to care.

Still, the boy looked far too good in those pants. The whole outfit, actually, was sinfully good-looking. In no small part because Harry didn't seem to acknowledge it at all; if anything, his artless dismissal of it only made him more appealing.

"—It's quite already, really," Edward valiantly turned his attention away from Harry's clothing—and what lay beneath it—to the actual conversation at hand.

"No, but I insist!" Esme returned, indeed looking quite insistent. "You're a guest—and I don't mind at all, truly."

"She means that." Edward cut in. "She'll take any excuse to cook; just let her do it."

Harry bit his lip. "Well, if you're sure it's no trouble…"

"None at all." Esme swore, smiling happily. "Now, what do you prefer for Christmas breakfast? Pancakes? Oh, well, perhaps something closer to an English breakfast…"

"Well, um," the blush to his cheeks was far too endearing, Edward thought with misery. Not to mention utterly captivating; everything about him burned with blood and life, and it was very hard to overlook. "I—I suppose, if it's not a problem… I do love French toast." He confessed, looking far too embarrassed.

"I know just the recipe!" Esme gushed, leaning over to pat both his cheeks. "You just wait right here, alright? Oh, Edward, go and get the boy a hot chocolate, in the meanwhile, it's far too cold down here—and maybe turn the fire place on? I'm so sorry Harry dear, it's just, we don't get human visitors all that often."

"It's quite alright." Harry blinked rapidly, looking overwhelmed.

Edward sighed, decided an intervention might be necessary. "Come on," he held the boy by the small of his back, steering him away from his overly-ecstatic mother. "I'll get a blanket for you."

"I'm fine, honestly—" He protested, but he seemed to realize it was falling on deaf ears.

Edward led him to the living room, where Alice had already started up the fireplace. He grabbed one of the throw blankets off the back of the couch, draping it over the smaller boy. Harry looked as if he wanted to melt into the ground with all this attention.

"I'm sorry about her—well, all of them, really." He sighed. "They're a bit—excited."

Harry smiled up at him. He felt his heart constrict upon itself. "They're happy for you." He observed, quietly.

Edward searched him closely. "If it's making you uncomfortable—

The boy shook his head rapidly. "Not at all." He replied. And then, softly, "They love you very much."

"Yeah, they mean well," he agreed, exasperated. "But they're all meddling fools."

This startled a laugh out of the young wizard. "Yes—as all families tend to be."

He made sure to keep a close eye on the boy the whole day through—and also keep his family at bay. Though they kept sending him dirty smirks, that seemed to be the extent of their ribbing at his expense. He was grateful for that, at least, even if he knew that they were only holding back for Harry, and would undoubtedly turn their full attention back to him the moment he left. Other then that, Christmas was quite a nice affair. Harry had the appetite of three incredibly hungry people, much to Esme's complete delight. She ended up in some kind of baking frenzy, with gingerbread and peppermint cookies and all sorts of other snacks they were going to have to throw out once Harry left—or rather, she roped a resigned Carlisle into doing the actual baking as she barked out orders. The boy did teach his father the recipe for the blood muffins, much to the happy surprise of the whole family, who were all eager to try them out. An odd look had crossed Carlisle's face in the interim, and Harry had turned quite red in the face, but he couldn't get a straight answer as to why out of either of them.

Christmas was always a rather muted affair in their household, if only because they'd all lived through so many that they never had much need for the theatrics. This wasn't to say it wasn't a warm, light-hearted affair—they simply just didn't make a big deal out of it. Harry's appearance made the whole event more significant somehow. The Cullen family mostly got each other gag gifts that were more amusing than personal; after a couple decades it got rather difficult to find unique gifts.

Harry, surprisingly, had a gift for everyone. He was rather warmed at the thought that Harry had picked something out for everyone of his family members beforehand. He gave the St. Januaris recipe to Esme, who looked far too excited at the thought of finally cooking something her family would actually eat; a wizarding picture book of Alice in Wonderland for Alice, with characters and settings that popped up from the page, and strutted about the paper as if in reenactment of the scene. Edward didn't get the significance of it, but Harry and Alice shared a secretive smile about it. He had a small bouquet of blood pops for Jasper, who wasted no time devouring two of them, and a real bouquet of ever-blooming flowers for Rosalie. She was far too pleased with them, as they whispered compliments to you if you were nice to them. For Carlisle he had a set of tomes that looked ancient and grouchy—quite literally. Apparently if they were in no mood to entertain you they wouldn't even open. Emmett got a bludger and beater bat, which suited him quite well. Harry had already given him a spare broom, but now Emmett could fly about slamming the bludger around—the thing always turned right around for more, no matter how hard Emmett hit it. Considering how much Emmett enjoyed hitting things, this was great.

Harry whispered to him that he would get his later. Edward didn't mind at all; having Harry here at all was already a perfect Christmas present.

Having Harry here—and seeing his expression when Alice presented their gift was really all he wanted. He was so surprised, as if he had expected them to somehow forget him. It made an untamable smile light on his face, and a frisson of concern settle in his stomach, because Harry looked so happy, but also like he was about to cry. Tears of happiness, hopefully. He spent a long time simply flipping through the pictures; Alice had bought a wizarding camera on their first to trip to Diagon Alley, and had surprised all of them with the amount of candid pictures she was capable of taking. When she let Edward in on the surprise he was more than happy to keep it a secret, and distract Harry whenever she took a picture. It was nice to see photos of him and Harry together; reassuring, somehow.

All in all it was probably the most memorable holiday he'd had in recent memory. Harry had to take his leave eventually, what with the fact he had his own family to share the holiday with. Edward didn't mind that too much though, maybe because he snagged another debauching kiss from the wizard before he left.

He had such a dopey smile on his face that he probably deserved all the ribbing he got from his family after the other boy left. He couldn't help it though. Harry was—perfect. He didn't need any gifts from the boy; the boy himself was already all he could have asked for.

.

.

.

Or so he had thought.

He and Harry met one more time before Harry's semester started up again, and he'd be back to his lopsided time zone hours.

The boy was fidgeting with the eaves of his temperamental vine planet, who looked irritated by the boy's attention. It didn't seem to like him much, actually, but Harry complained that it was always playing with his hair and getting tangled in it, and it always gave him the worst sweaters and hideously patterned teacups and saucers. Edward would have told him he was making things up, except it sort of seemed to be true. Both he and Alice had gotten many a sweater from the plant, and they always turned out half-way decent. Meanwhile, Harry's were often times too heinous to even look at.

At any rate, the moment Edward had walked into the door the boy had jumped straight up, and bolted into the kitchen, insisting for tea.

He hadn't looked Edward in the eye once since he'd arrived, and kept up a steady babble of conversation on all sorts of inane topics. Edward didn't even know what a goblin looked like, let lone their fourteenth century history. Incidentally, he also did not care about strange mythical midget creatures and their apparent perennial fallout with the centaurs. All he cared about was the young wizard in front of him, who seemed intent to keep him at arms length.

He didn't know what happened. Everything had seemed perfectly fine when he left.

Had he done something to upset the boy?

The thought was utterly terrifying. Had he been too forward, the last time? But of course he had, he mentally berated himself. He'd only coerced the boy into his bed and almost jumped him. He'd probably scared the other boy off. He had to keep reminding himself that Harry was human. He wasn't a vampire. He didn't have the same instincts he did, wouldn't understand them—he would fear them.

Harry set down a tea set in front of him, sliding into the seat across and still not looking him in the eye.

"Edward," he said, after a beat. "Um—

But he couldn't even bear to hear the end of that thought. "What is it?" He pressed, hastily. "Are you alright, Harry? Did I do something wrong—

"No, no!" Was the quick response. "Not at all."

If this was Harry's attempt at being reassuring, he was doing an incredibly poor job at it. If anything, it was only making Edward worry further.

"You're trembling," he noted, with dismay. Immediately the boy withdrew his hands from the table, hiding them in his lap.

"Harry…" He sighed, feeling absolutely horrible and wrought with guilt. Harry was trying so hard for him—but he shouldn't have to. The very last thing he'd ever wanted to do was make Harry feel like he had to commit to this. Even the idea of it made him sick. He'd never meant for this to happen. "You don't have to force yourself."

The boy flushed miserably, and Edward felt his stomach plummet. He wanted—he didn't know what he wanted. He wanted to get away from here. He wanted to drown in his own sorrow for forever. He didn't even want to exist.

He looked down at his hands, fidgeting. "It's—I'm not forcing myself." He replied, very unconvincingly.

Edward sighed. "Harry, you don't have to do this—

"I'm just nervous." The brunette blurted, still not looking at him.

It made his stomach flip over with something far too close to hope. "Nervous?" He repeated. "Am I making you nervous?"

Harry bit his lip, brow furrowing.

This was better than the alternative, but still not what he wanted. He didn't want to make Harry nervous, either. But it wasn't the wizard's fault—he'd definitely been taking it too fast. He berated himself again for constantly forgetting the vast differences between them. Not only was Harry not a vampire, he was also seventeen. And not just forever stuck in the body of one. He was so young. So innocent. He'd never experienced any of this before; of course he'd be nervous.

He sighed again. "I'm so sorry, Harry, I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. I just—

"That's not it at all!" Harry shook his head, with a vehemence that surprised him. He was still bright red, but he'd finally looked up. "Not at all." He assured.

Edward blinked. "Then, what's wrong?"

"It's, um, about your Christmas present." Harry mumbled.

"My Christmas present?" He echoed. But hadn't Harry already given it to him? The muffins, right? But then he remembered Harry had said he'd had another gift for him—he'd sort of forgotten in the face of the boy's presence in his bed.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "It's kind of hard to explain." He stood up abruptly then, looking around wildly. "I'm sorry, I'm sitting here drinking tea and making you just sit here and watch me—how very inconsiderate of me."

"It's fine." Edward insisted, feeling like he was getting whiplash from Harry's moods. One moment he looked like he wanted to crawl out of his own skin; in the next he looked miserable and uncomfortable; and then after that he was so red in the face Edward thought he might combust. What was wrong with him?

"Are you hungry?" The boy whirled around then. "Why don't we go outside?"

"Outside?" Edward repeated. He was about to suggest something else, but then he caught sight of the boy's features. Something caught between desperate and beseeching. "Sure." He allowed at length. "Let's go outside."

The two of them tumbled into the soft sea of snow, Harry dressed appropriately in multiple layers, after much insistence by Edward. The vampire didn't have anything else on aside from a light jacket, but the weather didn't have the same effect on him as it did on Harry. "I feel like the abominable snowman," the wizard groused, as he trudged along.

Edward laughed. "Nonsense." And then, smiling further. "Although you do waddle a bit."

Harry kicked snow at him.

Maybe Harry's suggestion wasn't so outlandish after all. The winter air seemed to calm the boy of whatever madness had besieged him in the house, and he looked considerably calmer than he did a few minutes ago. Edward was infinitely relieved to see the quiet smile playing upon the boy's lips as he took in the beauty of their surroundings, glad to see the wizard in good spirits again. He still didn't know what had set off his onset of hysteria earlier, but he didn't want to press the issue in the face of Harry's good mood.

They wandered deeper into the ice forest, until he couldn't even see Harry's house when he turned around. Beside him, Harry seemed content to swish a broken branch about on the snow, drawing intricate patterns as they walked. In the distance he could hear faint bird cries and the rustling of large game, but other than that the two maundered in peaceful silence.

He felt the need to break it, eventually. "You don't actually have to sit here while I hunt," he offered. "We could go explore or something."

Harry spared him a flat look. "When was the last time you ate?"

He shrugged. "Uh…"

"Alice said you haven't been going with them." He added, much to Edward's chagrin. He didn't know if Alice was just being her usual nagging self, or if she had intentionally given Harry this tidbit of information. But then, if it had been intentional, for what purpose was it? He shook his head in exasperation. Attempting to elucidate anything out of Alice's actions was a lesson in futility.

"You need to eat, Edward." Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't care if you're not human; that's just how life works."

"I'm really not hungry." Edward protested weakly.

Harry frowned then. "Edward," he said, with a seriousness that surprised him. "Please eat something."

Edward blinked at that, taken aback by the insistency in his tone.

But Harry only stared him down, looking mulish and stubborn. "Let's go find a nice spot to lay down, and then I'm going to take a nap and you're going to cut this ghandi stuff out."

Edward chuckled at that, deciding it was in his best interests to just give in to the boy's whims. If he was being honest, he was actually a little warmed by the boy's concern. "Alright, alright. I'll show you one of my favorite spots."

Harry marveled at the little piece of paradise Edward led him to, sprinkled in sparkling powder, retrograde light soft and glowing upon the ground. The little clearing was completely undisturbed by any kind of life, not even the footprints of animals marring the surface of the snow. On the opposite side a glittering, frozen stream slid its way down the mountain. Harry walked over to it, watching the fish beneath the ice with a curious eye.

"Do you like it?" The vampire asked with abated breath.

Harry whirled around. "It's perfect." He enthused, as his eyes trailed about the forest.

With that, he turned his back to the vampire, drawing his wand out from underneath his many layers. He swished it in the air, whispering a spell into the air. A fluffy white blanket unfurled from the tip of his wand, drifting onto the snow. After that he cast another one, this time to encase it with some kind of bubble of warmth. He shucked off his coat, jacket, and sweater, along with his assortment of knitted accessories, making himself comfortable on it.

Edward watched him roll around on it incredulously. "The snow is going to melt," he noted, deadpan. "And then you're going to get wet."

Harry only grinned up at him mischievously. "No it won't," he retorted, wiggling around some more and making himself into an appetizing sight.

Edward blinked, not exactly paying attention to what he was saying, far too distracted by his movements. He looked up then, the boy's words catching up to him. "What do you mean?"

"Magic, remember?" Harry chided with a laugh.

The vampire shook his head. Of course.

He shifted his weight uneasily, noticing that he was spending far too much time staring down at the boy and mentally undressing him as he sprawled himself so tantalizingly. "Right," he coughed indelicately. "Well, I'm going to go—I won't take long."

Harry waved him off. "Take your time—I'm not going anywhere."

And just as he turned to leave; "And no small fry, you hear? You better go hunt down a rhino or something."

Edward rolled his eyes, smiling. "There are no rhinos in the state of Washington—or on this continent, for that matter."

He descended into the forest with Harry's merry laughter carrying behind him. He shook his head fondly; he didn't think he'd ever get enough of the other boy. Still though, he couldn't help but think Harry was being weirdly adamant about him eating. He was touched by the concern, but also confused by it. Then again, Alice might have just insisted Harry to get him to do it with such severity that the boy was just relaying the same urgency.

Edward shrugged. What did it matter? Harry was here with him now, and he didn't want to think of anything else.

.

.

NOW FOR MY FAVORITE PART: More from Dan Bergstein, god almighty

Bella can't stop thinking about Edward Cullen. On the drive to school, she isn't sure how to handle all the attention she's getting from boys like Eric (the nerd) and Mike (um…not sure what kind of student Mike is. Let's call him a spaz-dork-skater-surfer-dweeb). She even suggests that things might be easier if everyone ignored her. Unfortunately, I can't ignore her.

And also:

The guys leave, and Bella changes out of her nice clothes and into her play clothes so she can watch the baseball game. Jessica calls and talks about the dance and how Mike kissed her. Bella doesn't really care because she's too busy thinking about vampires, werewolves, and baseball. I don't really care because I'm too busy thinking up titles for my soon-to-be-written novel about jetpacking werewolves. So far, I've got Bark of the Wind Wolves, Hounds of the Heavens, and Ralph: The Jetpacking Werewolf.

Charlie comes home and Bella finally mentions that she's going on a date with Edward. At first this ticks him off, because he thinks Bella is dating the muscular, mature Emmet Cullen. He is relieved to learn that she is instead dating the pansy, dumb-haired Edward Cullen.