A/N: For my American readers who may not know of English-isms: crisps are what you would call chips : ) If you already knew this, very good; if not, now you do : )

HPOV

It's such a pretty little cottage, tucked among the trees. There's ivy around the chimneys and side wall, and it has a pretty thatched roof. There's a front garden that's halved by a flagstone path, and there are wild rose bushes along the front wall and under the front windows. Jasper takes me inside and obviously he knows where he's going, because he takes us down a corridor into a huge kitchen, which clearly takes up the whole width of the house. There's an actual Aga in here. I have always wanted an Aga. The floor is flagstones, and there are various pretty rugs scattered about. There's a big wooden table and scrubbed stone work surfaces under cupboards.

"The fridge is built into that cupboard and the freezer is underneath it. We didn't bother with a dishwasher."

"This is amazing. Seriously, I can't tell you how much I love this kitchen." He grins at me and then leads me over to the table. There's a plate of sandwiches there, a couple of slices of sponge cake which smells like lemon to me and a bag of crisps. I'm almost too excited to eat myself - I want to watch him experience this. He serves us, and then he chews his lip for a bit.

"What's in these sandwiches?"

"Ham and cheese. Try it," I say, failing completely to veil my excitement,

"What if I don't like it?"

"You don't have to eat it," I say, smiling. "There's no forced obligation." He picks up his sandwich and after admiring it for a while, takes a tentative bite. I wait for him to chew and swallow. "Do you like it?"

"Yes, I think so. It tastes alright."

"Good. We'll have to start compiling lists of things you do and don't like." He eats slowly, and eventually I pick up a sandwich and start my own meal.

"What do humans do when they go on dates?" he asks me, swallowing his mouthful.

"Uh, they go to see films, or they go out for dinner, or they go to a club - later in the dating process - or they go on picnics. Whatever you want."

"Do you want to go out for dinner with me?"

"Do you mean on a date?" I tease.

"Yeah. I mean on a date."

"I'd like that." He beams at me. Suddenly, the light in the room changes, and I turn to the window, getting up and walking over. "Jasper," I say, holding out my hand, "come here." He gets up, comes over, taking my hand right before he steps out of the shadowy kitchen and into the pool off sunlight by the window. His hand comes up to shield his eyes, and then he looks at that hand in wonder.

"I don't sparkle any more."

"You don't. You just look healthy and human."

"I look like you."

"No, you don't. You look like you did before you became a vampire, I'd imagine."

"I can remember now."

"Remember before?" I ask him, a spark of electricity running through me. We're still standing in the sunlight.

"Yes. I couldn't before. I still remember my vampire life, but now there's the human side too. I remember my mother."

"What was she like?" I ask him softly.

"She - I look like her. People used to say that. My father used to say that. All the time. He wanted me to look like him - he was dark, less rangy, but I have his height at least. But both me and my sisters look like our mother."

"You had sisters?"

"Six."

"You had six sisters?"

"Hmm. I was the only boy and he wanted a son like him but instead he got another blonde. I'm the youngest - was the youngest. I went to their funerals, quietly, discreetly, stood at the back. I have family still living in Houston. Great nieces and nephews. Great-great nieces and nephews, if it comes to that. It's the only thing I regret, not seeing them grow up."

"Did you get on with your sisters?"

"Most of the time. Did you get on with your siblings?"

"Only child. My parents wanted the perfect little nuclear family - them, one boy and one girl - but after me there weren't any more kids."

"Did that bother them?"

"I don't think so. They were happy enough - and besides, I was only young when I started producing little lights and reviving dead flowers and making noises without doing anything. I think that may have put them off."

"So, did you always know you were a witch?"

"I suspected. But I didn't know until I was 11, and I got my Hogwarts letter. My parents got one too, explaining who I was and the reason behind all the lights and stuff. They were so proud of me." I shake myself a little. "Tell me more about you."

"What do you want to know?"

"I don't know. Stuff about your childhood. Your favourite game, your favourite sister, their names. What were you like as a boy, what did you like doing?"

"Well, it was the 1800s. My favourite game was probably running around in the woods with my friends playing at soldiers. My favourite sister was Katy - short for Katherine. She was the oldest, and she was very protective of me. She begged the hardest when I said I was joining up. She didn't want me to go. She said she knew that something bad would happen, that she wasn't going to see me again. And she didn't, she was right. Except I didn't die like she thought. There was Katy, Anna, Elizabeth, Lucy, Victoria and Emmie - short for Emmiline."

"Emmiline?"

"I know. She hated that name and thus I called her it constantly. She was the baby and then I came along and was abruptly my father's favourite."

"Because you were the boy."

"Yeah, because I was the boy. It wasn't really very fair. But that was how it was - she was still his little princess, but he finally had his son and heir, the means to carry on the family name. He set a lot of store in the Whitlock family name. I'm the last one left now. All my sisters married, changed their names. I was very spoilt by my parents. Again, being the only boy - they saw to it that I was very well educated, I went to the best schools in Texas. Learning, however, did not come naturally to me - I suppose it bored me. Now I love it. But then I thought it was all a waste of time and all I wanted to do was play with my friends and then, when I got too old to play, just hang out with them and flirt with girls." I laugh, and he grins too. "It was always about who could get the most invitations and who could get the most dances at the balls."

"So you were a player." He laughs, nods sheepishly.

"I was also sixteen and very arrogant."

"And a player," I tease, giggling.

"And a player," he acknowledges, before he turns deep grey eyes to me. "Are you jealous, Miss Granger?"

"Insanely. If all those girls weren't long dead, I might get annoyed." He laughs.

"Do you want to see the rest of the house?"

"Yes." He leads me down the stone corridor, passing the front door, shows me a living room and wide as the kitchen, but not as long. It is cosy and warm, a merry fire crackling in the grate and some flowers in a vase in the window. There's a staircase at the back, and he leads me up it. The bathroom is modernized and yet old fashioned, keeping the flagstones and clawed-foot bathtub, but also tucking a power shower into a wooden cabinet so it's discreet and fits in.

"There's three bedrooms up here. We, uh, had to make a choice. And we weren't sure what you'd prefer to do. Whether you'd prefer to have a room of your own or whether - anyway, we figured, or I figured rather - well, I wanted to do this properly. Or properly-ish. We'll be sharing the house but not a bedroom." I nod, really unable to construct a thought. "So, this is you." I step inside and gasp. It's beautiful, and yet tasteful. Emerald green drapes are hanging at the window which opens to the forest and our back garden. The rug matches, the flagstones are heated under my feet, and the bed just takes my breath away. Double, two pillows, a duvet and a blanket folded over the foot.

"You remembered everything."

"Every detail. Even that you like a summer duvet no matter what time of year it is. And the mattress is a memory foam, Carlisle says that's the best thing against your skin right now." I'm barely hearing him. The headboard has caught my eyes. It's a woodland scene, trees and plants. It looks almost alive.

"Where did you find this?"

"I made it."

"You made this?"

"Do you like it?"

"It's incredible, I love it. When did you do this?"

"While you were recovering. Needed something to do to stop me spending all day standing over you." I smile at him, and cross the room, slipping myself into his arms.

"Can I see your room?"

"Sure," he says, smiling at me, taking my hand again and pulling me down the corridor. He's at the far end of the corridor, next door to the bathroom. I'm next door to the third bedroom, presumably the master bedroom. I'm itching to see it. Jasper takes my hands and pulls me into his room. The bed from the house is there, and he has a headboard of his own, his depicting a ship. His drapes and rugs are deep blue. His wardrobe, drawers and bedside cabinet are a light pine instead of my dark mahogany furnishings. His window looks out over the little front garden.

"I love it."

"Yeah, I did this on my own. And I did the master suite."

"Can I see the master suite?" He hooks his arms around my waist and I look up at him, laughing.

"Not yet. You get to see the master suite when I carry you over the threshold of it and make love to you." I raise my eyebrows.

"You're confidant."

"Are you denying that we'll get there?"

"Absolutely not."

"I'm going to kiss you."

"That's fine." He kisses me, and it's long and soft. I can't get over how different it is to kiss him now, when he's soft and warm and he isn't holding anything back from me. Before, when we both knew a loss of control would either mean my death or a serious injury. It's different to feel soft skin under my hands, nice to feel warmth instead of goosebumps. He's still solid under my hands, I can feel hard muscle from his soldier training, calluses on his hands from his horse. The thought of him clad in riding gear and cowboy hat sends a delicious tremor down my spine. He eases back, strokes his thumb over my lips, cupping my face in big, capable hands, placing a gentle closed kiss on my lips.

"I cant believe this is real."

"Are you happy?" I ask, softly.

"Unbelievably. I'm never going to be able to repay you for doing this for me."

"I'm never going to ask you to."

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

"Shhh. It's OK." I reach up and play with his hair, tucking it back off his face, running my fingers through the strands. His hand in turn runs over the short strands on my own head, where my hair is finally growing back.

"I want to keep you here. I want you all to myself."

"The others want to see you. We can have all evening, all tomorrow -"

"All our lives," he whispers. "All our lives together."

"I know," I agree, kissing him again. "All our lives."