A Little Wicked

11. Bewitched

'Do you like Harry?'

Edward repeated the question to himself that Alice had asked him the previous day. But he could not come up with a definitive answer, as there was always internal questioning that led him to something like a philosophical debate. Emmett often said that Edward thought way beyond what was needed, never seeing how simple things were. He had to agree with his brother, but still, he couldn't change his way of being... It was stronger than him.

But now that the question popped, there was no way he could escape the obligation to get an answer and he should do it for the obvious reason alone: his family would more likely hinder him rather than help.

If he talked about it with Esme, she would be euphoric that he might have found a mate, giving him no room to think coherently. Carlisle was going to start a long speech about how wonderful it was to share immortality with someone, which would lead to the intense debate between them about their "state" of immortality.

For being an empath, Jasper would be the best choice because he understood feelings like no one else. However, he would look at everything from a similar angle to a military strategy, especially considering the unknown risks of Edward getting involved with a wizard.

Alice would roll her eyes impatiently, repeatedly showing him the prediction as if he were a stupid child who could learn nothing from what he had been told. Rosalie would laugh at his face and make a derogatory comment about him - as she always did, whatever the topic. And Emmett? Well, a fern would have more tact to talk about feelings than Emmett.

Edward sighed in defeat as he returned to the initial question.

Did he like Harry?

Yes, he did.

Very much, actually...

He liked his company, their conversations, their friendship... Edward liked that aura of mystery that Harry had: he was sweet and warm to the people around him, while paradoxically somewhat distant and even inaccessible. Harry was energetic and vivacious, as if there was a fire crackling behind his green eyes that seemed ready to defy someone and already knew he would win, or when he laughed at some dirty joke that Emmett and Ron were telling. But there were times when he contained himself in his own silence, stillness and secrets.

Harry was like volcano covered with snow.

And to his dismay, Edward realized how much it attracted him, how masochistic he became for liking someone who made him so... So thirsty! Thirsty for that sweet blood that smelled like lavender and caramel, thirsty for any crumbs of information the wizard decided to give, thirsty for his company, the smiles, the conversations, thirsty even for his silence.

And this thirst manifested itself as desires for physical contact.

It began long ago as innocent, unintended touches, evolving into more intimate physical contact like the day they were in the meadow and Edward showed what happens when sunlight touched him. If Edward closed his eyes, he could still feel the ghost of the warmth of the Harry's fingers touching his skin, just as he could feel the sensation of having Harry on him, his own arms around the wizard's waist, the scent of his hair, the heat of his body, the softness of his warm skin pressed against his own, cold and hard...

And with Alice's vision, everything got worse because memories and probabilities of a future were no longer enough.

Once again, he was thirsty.

And confused.

Confused because he had never felt something like this for anyone else. He didn't know, or rather, never felt the attraction or desire that one person had for another and for a long time he believed that he would never feel those things for someone.