you with the lion's roar



28th May 1998

"It didn't change me."

The 28th of May is an appropriately rainy day in England, thick grey clouds rolling across the sky and chasing away all the promises of an early summer that has been lingering in the air for the past week.

Sitting before the cracklings fireplace, Jasper flexes his bare feet before the flames, the heat scorching at his soles. His face is buried in the crook of Harry's neck, the girl sat upon his lap, legs curled up and cheek pressed to his. The scent of sweat has receded now, Jasper having drawn Harry a hot bath when it became evident she was most certainly still so painfully human. Reverberating with each powerful thump, the strong drumbeat of her heart echoes through Harry's chest into his own. The most potent evidence of his acute failure.

Jasper has never turned another vampire before; Maria was always the one to do the deed. He'd refused to ever damn another to the same life he now led. Did he do something wrong? He cannot have done though. Never before has he heard of a turning failing, not like this. The venom either works or kills the intended would-be vampire.

For the life of him, Jasper cannot recall a tale of someone getting up and walking the venom off, still so clearly human.

The warmth of her skin, the pleasurable aroma of lifeblood; it's all too clear that Harry is as human as she were before exposure to vampire venom. It cannot be a difference with her being magical; the magical world has vampires too, and Harry would not have asked him to turn her in the face of death if she were under the impression it would not work. She seems just as terrified as he does.

Eternity is not something that Jasper has ever taken for granted, or at least he'd thought so, but now...

"It didn't work," Jasper confirms and his insides feel cold.

Curls of red brush against the skin of his cheeks, Harry's flushed body so undeniably warm where it rested against his own. She has always felt fragile within his arms before; now she feels paper thin, brightly coloured tissue in the hands of a toddler, something that can be torn apart oh so easily is he's not careful.

His chest hurts, it feels tight and if he were capable of crying, Jasper is quite sure he'd be doing so. As things stand, the venom within his mouth has dried up, leaving it dry and his tongue heavy. He's making a concise effort to not just freeze up, to not emphases just how very not human he is, just how irreversibly different they are. Something that appears as if it can never be fixed.

Harry's shoulders shake slightly, and there's the smell of salt in the air. It takes Jasper a second, but then he realises the source of the smell.

Crying, Harry's crying.

"Oh, Darlin', Darlin' no."

And he retreats from her neck, instead bringing her face to rest against his collar bone, reeling her even further into his lap than she was before, until his arms can curl protectively around her waist and hold her close. He wishes he were warm, that he were soft and comforting and everything Harry needs. Had the venom worked, had Harry become a vampire, it wouldn't have mattered.

But she is still human, so painfully human, and the touch of a vampire is not a comfortable thing. She still melts though, her soft body moulding to the hard edges of his own, fingers curling tight into the fabric of his shirt and just clinging.

"Living forever scared me," Harry whispers, words heavy and muffles by the muscles of his shoulder.

Where his hands are rubbing slow circles into her back, they stop, panic flaring to life in Jasper's chest. Had he pushed her into it? Did she not want eternity, did she not want to spend it with him? But she still holds tight, she still presses herself into his embrace as if he is the only steady thing present within her life. So why-

"It scared me," she continues and his shirt is growing damp from the tears, "not being able to stay with you scares me more though." Oh. That's, that's…

He gently cradles the back of Harry's head for a moment before his other hand comes to brush against her cheek, slowly drawing her away from the crook of his shoulder.

"Oh, Darlin', I'll take whatever you can give me. If that's just your years as a human, then I'll treasure it more than anything."

It's true, and though it feels as if all of his insides are crumbling at the thought of such limited time, of only holding Harry's hand to have it ripped away by death in the future… Then being able to intertwine their fingers for some years instead of never having the opportunity; he'll take whatever he can get, whatever Harry is willing to give him. The end scares him, but to never have this scares him more.

Hands cupping her red cheeks, Jasper gently brushes his thumbs along the very edges of her eyes, wiping away the tears. His lips press against Harry's forehead before he meets it with its own, the tips of their noses touching.

"I don't know if I can be happy with just a human lifespan now, if I can be happy leaving you alone" Harry breathes and her breath his so hot against his lips, even as her face scrunches with the despair of her admittance.

And while it is certainly something to hear that, the kind of sentence that could almost set his dead heart beating again, his whole being aches at the very thought. Though it might be a confession brought on by the heat of the moment, it does mean in the very least that Harry has thought of eternity with him. That they could possibly be denied such a thing, it stings.

Then, then an idea makes itself known within his mind, and the smallest, tiniest bit of hope flares to life within him.

"We could see the Volturi," Jasper whispers, all of the facts and figures clicking into place within his mind, "they've been around for millennia, if anyone could help, it'd be them."

Harry pulls back, her eyes ringed red with irritated skin and swollen slightly. But there is hope in that green gaze, lips daring to lift into a wobbly smile.

"Sounds like a plan, Whitlock."



29th May 1998

They don't waste any time.

It takes Kreacher a day to acquire an international portkey to Italy, insisting with the Ministry that his mistress needs time and space to recover from the attack on her person, but that she is indeed very well. There's a photo in the paper, front page news that despite the fact Harry was attacked, she is very much okay.

They still question if the company she keeps is good for her, asks why she keeps a vampire around if he cannot stop an attack upon her person.

Jasper swears that another will never manage such a feat, that he will tear them apart before they can ever come close. Before, before there was always the safety net, the idea that he could just turn Harry and save her. While the venom seems to have saved her life, seems to have healed all of her injuries, the pain it put her through is unacceptable. Not when he can nip it in the bud before she suffers.

Even if only friends have access to the front porch of Grimmauld, Jasper is still on high alert when the doorbell goes.

His hands are motionless, still holding onto the shirt he had been in the process of folding. Opposite him and stood before her own suitcase -Harry has admitted she has never been on holiday before, not outside of the country. So they are going to do this right, mix business with pleasure- Harry straightens. Her wand is held in hand, and with a flick of her wrist, the smoky image of two -no three people appear before the tip.

"It's Remus and Tonks," she concludes, happy little smile upon her lips as she abandons packing for the moment.

Quick as possible, Jasper finishes off folding the shirt he has in his hands, zipping his case shut and following after his dear little human.

Harry's hair is pulled up into a loose ponytail, the bunch of curls swinging back and forth as she makes her way down the hall.

Halting at the door, she takes a moment to cast scent specific smells and Jasper tips his head to her in a silent thank you. For Lupin is a Child of the Moon, and though an exceptionally even tempered one, he still smells of foe, as does his infant son.

"Harry! Glad we caught you, didn't know if you'd left yet!"

Nymphadora Lupin-Tonks would no doubt bounce into the hallway had a baby not been cradles within her arms.

Instead, she offers the tiny little boy to Harry, who accepts her godson eagerly.

Edward Lupin blinks, staring up with dark eyes that bleed green when he meets Harry's gaze.

Though he has only been in the company of the child thrice since his birth, and though he smells something foul, Jasper finds himself surprisingly fond of the boy.

Wiggling his fingers before Teddy's face, Jasper smiles when tiny little hands grab onto one of his digits.

"We just wanted to bring over the official paperwork now that it's finally gone through the Ministry," Remus expanded, a tired smile on his face. The both of them look quite tired indeed, but then again they both have a newborn baby. Sleep is now a luxury that is quite hard to come by.

"Paperwork?" Harry asks, gaze not lifting from where it is focused upon the baby in her arms.

"Yes, you're both officially godparents."

Jasper's head snaps up in surprise.

"Both?" He questions, watching as the two Lupins just smile back at him. It is Remus that answers, eyes flicking over to look upon Harry as she gently rocks his infant son.

"In my experience, Potter's fall fast and they fall hard. It was easier to mark you as the godfather than to go back and fix it when the two of you make things official."

Right, that is, that is, something.

It takes Jasper a moment to realise this level of discomfort and surprise would have a human fidgeting, but by that point it's too late to actually do so. So he instead has to put up with Remus just smiling at him as if he understands every last thing running through Jasper's head.

The man's gaze is a bit too knowing for Jasper and the blond remembers that his fellow creature had once believed he would never be happy, never be content with life. He has been where Jasper once was, and despite their ages, it leaves the vampire discomforted, as if he is the young of the two.

"Thank you," Jasper murmurs, turning his attention to Harry and trying to ignore the werewolf who's eyes are far too understanding.



30th May 1998

Magic truly is a wonderful thing.

Jasper stands within broad daylight, head tilting back with the sun kissing at his cheeks. He need not worry about burning, yet sun cream is still smeared beneath his cheeks, half rubbed in and so clearly marking him as a tourist to the Italians all around them.

Beside him, Harry rocks back on her heeled sandals, a large sunhat crammed onto her mane of red hair and lips twisting up in a smile.

Her magic cloaks his vampiric traits from sight, dismissing the sparkles of his skin from ever registering with those who are not magic. Other vampires may see, other magicals may see, but they are already well aware of his kind now.

He can smell the leather of his own sandals, the sophisticated spice of Harry's perfume. Her hand slips into his, fingers threading with his own, thumb warm against his knuckles.

Cocking his head towards the woman, Jasper uses his free hand to imitate a 'come hither' gesture, pulling a smile from Harry's lips. She steps closer and Jasper ducks in to plant a soft kiss against her lips.

"I have no idea where the Volturi are based with Volterra, Darlin'," he admits, only mere inches from her face as he contemplates stealing a second kiss, a deeper one.

Harry hums, the sound trapped in the back of her throat before she regrettably retreats. He's only slightly appeased when she pulls two treats from her bag; a chocolate lolly for herself and for him, a blood-pop.

Accepting the little gift, Jasper removes the wrapper and slips it between his teeth, the rich flavour of what he has come to learn to be jarvey blood seeping across his tongue. Harry's own treat is balanced between her lips as one hand twirls her wand, the other holding out the map of Volterra before them. She mutters something, latinate words that are lost around the handle of her lolly. A stream of energy, pale pink in the heat of the sun, leaves from the holly tip, curling around in the air before they settle upon a specific street upon the page.

"There's the entrance," she whispers, wand tapping against the location in question.

Jasper lets his eyes roam over the map, memorising the general area as well as the swiftest route they can take to reach their destination.

"Right then, Darlin', let's go."

Harry blinks, looking up at him with a smile before she squeezes his hand. He can make out the slight streaks of sun cream that haven't quite been rubbed in fully, her skin unable to accept anymore excess protection on top of what it already houses. There's slight clumps of mascara on her lower lashes, a slight edging of chocolate to her lips now.

She's so painfully human, but it doesn't hurt like he'd expected.

The idea of a future without her terrifies him, but on that same vein, how could he not accept and cherish any and every part of Harry? She might be human right now, but she wears it well, flaunts it. Perhaps another vampire would have a problem seeing such a thing, but Jasper is in far too deep now, with no hope of clawing his way out, even if he wanted to.

"Well, Whitlock? You ready?"

Realising that he has yet to start walking, even though he had been the one attempting to prompt Harry into moving, Jasper offers her his most winning smile, removing the empty popsicle stick from his mouth to press a kiss to Harry's temple.

"I'll follow you anywhere, Darlin'."

And by god does he mean that.



30th May 1998

The Volturi live within the catacombs.

While that does not necessarily surprise Jasper, the fact a group of humans -a group of muggles- are being led into the depth of the place does.

Beside him Harry goes still, clearly registering just why those people are entering the 'tourist attraction'. His eyes flutter over to her face, which is painfully blank. He has warned her though, warned her of the Volturi's power and influence, warned her that they will not win a fight against vampiric royalty without time and resources. That they will not hesitate to tear Jasper apart at the first hint that he is a threat. Such a thing is unacceptable, because then there will be no one to defend Harry from their attacks.

While Jasper is still displeased at the idea of feeding on humans, the thought of Harry at risk upsets him far, far more.

"Please, Darlin'," Jasper whispers, the unvoiced 'don't start anything' hanging heavy in the air between them.

Swallowing, Harry gives a very stiff nod, teeth digging into the flesh of her lower lip but never threatening to break flesh. That is too much temptation in their current environment.


The both of them turn to gaze upon a heavily robed figure at the address, whom has not an inch of skin free to be graced by the sun's rays. Curious red eyes take Jasper in, take in the glitter of his flesh and the painfully clear dismissal as none of the humans register the unnatural sight.

"I have an enquiry about vampire venom that I hope the Volturi hold the answer to." Jasper says, very slowly and very well aware that he could have been attacked already, had this Guard not been so even tempered.

The Guard's gaze scans down Harry's form as Jasper speaks, freezing on one very clear scar. Just by Harry's collarbone, upon the left side of her lower neck, the only evidence of Jasper's attempt to turn her prevails. The venom is the only thing capable of leaving scars upon a vampire, it makes painful sense that the scar it leaves upon a human would be so startlingly clear.

The Guard cocks his head to a side, stepping closer as those red eyes never leave the mark of Jasper's failure.

"You still breathe," the Guard whispers, striding forwards until he's not a foot away, "you're still human."

Jasper's hackles rise and he steps forwards, shoulders tense with the strain of someone who presents so much of a threat suddenly so close to Harry. Unacceptable, he doesn't like it one bit.

"We're here to see your masters," Jasper hastens, bodily placing himself between the Guard and Harry.

Harry who's clutching at the wand in her pocket, Harry's who's green eyes are sharp as winter's icy bite. Harry, who's scent twists and all at once smells both familiar and foreign. There's something about it that makes Jasper cringe away, something that strikes primordial fear down his spine like a fork of lightning.

He's not the only one, the Guard feels it too from the way he has retreated. When threaten, vampires do no freeze. To them, motionlessness is a state of being, it is their resting pace. When presented with a surprise, a conundrum, a vampire either advances or retreats.

It says something about the strange aroma Harry suddenly exudes that a member of the Volturi Guard backs down in response.

Harry doesn't even know she's doing it, eyes still focused on the perceived threat. Something is sparking off her shoulders and it takes Jasper a moment to realise it is magic. An after effect of the failed turning?

"You wish to see my masters?" The Guard questions slowly, English impeccable for all that he speaks with an accent.

"Yes please," Harry says, stepping forwards to link her fingers back with Jasper's. Ruby eyes linger on the adjoining digits for a moment before the native vampire takes a step back.

"Follow me."


He's not nervous, Jasper forcibly tells himself as he's led further and further into the catacombs. It is very professional, the stonework preserved just so, clearly treated and looked after with care. Jasper's sharp hearing can pick up the moment that the feeding begins, the moment that pack of muggles become nothing but corpses, drained dry of their lifeblood. Harry doesn't hear and that is for the best.

Untangling his fingers from hers, Jasper pulls her closer instead, hand slipping into the back pocket of her shorts, the half tucked in shirt -his shirt, she's wearing one of his shirts again- brushing against the skin of his wrist. The front is unbuttoned, only a thin black bralette worn beneath. She looks lovely, certainly not the kind of outfit fit for vampire royalty but Jasper loves it all the same. Harry's aware he likes her in his shirt; it's why he's lost so many of them lately, only for them to reappear gracing her skin shoulders. Jasper would always give her the shirt off of his back, should she ask for it. His manners as a gentleman can only really account for half his reasoning to do so.

"Wait out here," the Guard leading them says, coming to a stop before a grand entranceway.

The scent of blood wafts from beneath the door frame and Jasper is quite content to follow those instructions for a moment.

The Guard turns on heel, ready to walk into the room, but Harry seems quite unable to help herself.

"Wait, may we have your name, please?"

At that the Guard pauses, even turning around to look upon Harry. Slipping the hood of his robe back, the Guard tilts his dark head of hair and smiles at her.

"I am Demetri." What goes unsaid is that Harry does not register as food, clever charm work ensuring so despite retaining her scent, and that this vampire does not have the slightest clue why.

"I'm Hariel Potter, and this is Jasper Whitlock. Nice to meet you, Demetri."

"We'll see," the Volturi Guard answers, but his lips do quirk up in amusement, if only ever so slightly.

Disappearing behind the door, Demetri of the Volturi Guard leaves the two of them stood together, only one startled human secretary to keep them company. Her frost blue eyes switch swiftly between himself and Harry, as if trying and failing to understand what brings them here. Though it also may be because Harry is still so painfully human. What a human is doing here at the heart of Volturi though without having lost their blood, Jasper has no idea. Nor is he really bothered about said human as much as he is with regards to Harry.

Harry who presses herself a bit firmer onto his side, one hand resting against his ribs, the other still curled around her wand. Her palm is hot, even through the fabric of his shirt, fingertips slowly scratching back and forth over the ridges of muscle there.

"We've got portkeys against hostile intentions."

Jasper doesn't need Harry to remind him of such a thing, he's well aware. They had been tested against his own vampiric speed after all, so he knows with complete certainty that they will activate before the Volturi can hurt them. It's the fact the Volturi will not stop hunting them down if they do so that makes Jasper uneasy.

"Th-the Masters will see y-you now," the human stammers, face still twisted in confusion as she looks upon the two of them, even as jealousy roars to life within her chest. Jasper can feel it, bubbling and surging, a sensation that has his pulling Harry just that little bit closer. So the secretary is either in enamoured with the idea of a vampire lover or wishes to become own herself. How positively shallow.


"And the venom failed?"

Aro of the Volturi leans forwards in his chair, ancient hands gripping at the very edge of the armrests.

Beside him, even the usually disinterested Marcus looks to be considering them, Caius making no show of hiding his curiosity.

Jasper had knelt upon entry to the room, as is only right in the presence of royalty, but Harry had offered nothing more than a quick curtsy. Bowing to another no doubt reminds her far too strongly of her now deceased mortal enemy, so such a lack of action is understandable to Jasper.

Of course, Aro is now well aware of this, having all but demanded Jasper's hand the second they had finished their greetings. Now the Volturi are aware magicals still live, but what makes Jasper most uncomfortable is that Aro now knows Harry as well as Jasper himself.

Those wine red eyes stay completely focused upon her and Jasper can feel the emotions there.

Intrigue, interest, greed.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out just what Aro is thinking; he's very much on board with the idea of Harry becoming a vampire. A vampire of the Volturi, a magical vampire linked to the Guard, she'd be invaluable, and by her inclusion, Jasper would be pulled in too.

He's no fool, he's well aware of his own feelings.

Six months is more than enough time for him to fall in deep; Miss Hariel Potter is all he will ever want in his life now, he will accept no other.

"We shall attempt to turn you," Aro continues, focused on Harry as he leans forwards slightly in his chair, "if you wish to still do so."

It is not phrased as a question and that has Jasper tensing. Harry's hand, once again in his own, offers a gentle squeeze before she lets go, stepping forwards.

"Please do."



3rd June 1998

It doesn't work.

Where Jasper was unsuccessful, the Volturi also meet with failure.

Harry took the venom, and for three days she writhered in pain. No screams left her lips, but that was the extent of self control. Harry has experienced the worst pain known to wizarding-kind, has suffered under the torture curse. Jasper is both proud and sadden that she did not react verbally to the burning agony of the venom.

Just like last time, her heartbeat stopped and then, just like last time, it starts up again.

He had managed to confirm something he hadn't been fully certain of when that heart gave its first beat.

For all that Aro has his poker face, the ancient vampire's surprise and fury sizzled through the air until it was scorching the back of Jasper's throat. He had really wanted Harry the vampire for his Guard.

The Volturi will not kidnap magicals, too fearful of the war that would come should they attempt hunting one another. Jasper can only hope no magical is foolish enough to go looking for them.

"So, you are leaving," Demetri muses, walking beside them, basking in the bright sunlight.

Both he and Jasper are part way through consuming a bag of blood-pops between them, Harry leisurely devouring true Italian ice-cream.

"That we are."

"I do believe you will be the only human to have ever left those chambers alive."

It goes without saying that Aro has no choice but to let them go, not unless he wanted the magicals to come sniffing around for their saviour.

The hand in Jasper's back pocket give a teasing squeeze and he lets his gaze filter over to the owner of the offending fingers.

Harry just grins back, wiggling her eyebrows as she licks at her ice cream. It certainly seems as if the second failed turning hasn't ruined the good mood the Italian sunshine has cultivated.

"Well, Demetri, you've been wonderful company, but I think we're gonna leave now," Harry muses, offering her free hand to the Volturi Guard.

With a smile, Demetri graces her knuckles wit a kiss, pulling up his hood, concealing his skin from the sun once again.

"It has been a treat to walk beneath the sun for a few short moments. I wish you good luck in your quest for a solution, Hariel, Jasper."

The dark haired vampire nods, stepping back and out of Harry's misdirection ward.

And with a swirl of the portkey, they're back in England.



14th December 2000

"Are you sure about this, Darlin'?"

If there is one life event Jasper had never expected to be taking part in, back when he first came to understand just what the burning in the back of his throat meant, it would be this.

The priest stands before the two of them, welcoming the guests as Jasper adjusts the tie that feels far too tight. He never expected to be a part of a wedding ever again when he was transformed into this unholy creature, had never expected himself to be capable of setting foot in church again. His past self would never have predicted -never have hoped- to be stood before a priest as a vampire, about to be married off to a witch.

He wonders what the holy man would make of it were he aware. This is probably several different levels of sin right here, and that's not even taking into consideration the sex before marriage thing.

But what's one more blasphemous action?

"Please," Harry whispers from beside him, and though there is a thin veil of a see through silk over her face, her eyes are still bright enough to track, "like I'm going to let this venom-failure thing ruin my life. I'm in love with you, and immortal or not, I'm happy to be getting a ring on my finger."

Jasper's lived a fair amount of time and he's quite certain by now that Christianity -along with all the other religions- are just wistful thinking.

Still, there's a small part of him that likes to think he'll see his Ma and Pa, should he ever meet his maker. Even if he cannot remember them beyond a slight spring of warmth within his memories, even if they'd just sneer at his unnaturalness before he'd sent to those fiery depths. Jasper has no plans to die though, not while Harry is still among the living.

He can feel the tearful, proud emotions of the Weasley parents, can feel the heart-ache and love from Remus Lupin, but they're all near eclipsed by Harry's own feelings. Happiness pours off her, a rare eagerness that most would take for nerves, and love. There's a whole lot of love, all but glowing from her white clad form, all directed right to him.

They're no longer planets, they've both conquered their suns and evolved into supernova stars, orbiting the centre of the same galaxy. They move in harmony with one another, a glittering pair that work seamlessly.

It's difficult to accept that they will both burn out someday, that maybe Harry's brilliant flame will be suffocated until it burns no more, and that in the wake of her loss he will disappear too, become nothing more than an afterimage. A dancer immobile without his partner, a soldier lost without his cause.

But to live right here, right now, as they are both standing upon this alter and glowing in the winter sun... it's worth the oncoming pain.

"You may now kiss the bride."

Figured it was about time I start cracking this out. As with the one before it, this is wrote on my phone, so do forgive any errors.

So this'll be posted in two parts, low and behold, part one. And if you want to know if it's happy ending not, then the 15th and the 12th letter in the title will answer that.