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[ryehoneyinkstains]

The Lovers

Aesop Sharp/Reader

𝖙𝖜𝖔

The silence between you is deafening, Aesop stuck somewhere between anger and disgust. Though neither was pointed at you. He hadn’t missed the way your eyes had widened in surprise when you realized who he was. Not that it took you very long, his name slipped past your lips the moment you both locked eyes. You had called him professor, and that had brought about Aesop’s disgust.

With how thorough it seemed that Madame Wilhelmina had looked through his files, surely, they must have known that you had been his student. Was this some sort of sick joke? By Merlin’s name he was almost twice your age! He couldn’t be the only one that realized how sick and twisted this whole thing was. Marrying off a girl who’s barely out of childhood to a man who once held a position of authority over her.

Did they really expect him to be okay with this?

“Professor Sharp?” you’ve never been the timid type, but your voice was so soft that Aesop almost didn’t hear it.

“Don’t call me that.” He snapped, a chill in his voice. The thought of a woman he was supposed to lie next to in bed calling him professor repulsed him.

Your eyes widened at his anger, your tongue slipping out to wet your lips before you pressed them into a thin line. Whatever it was that you were going to say, it seemed that you decided against it.

The silence ticked on, Aesop’s thoughts racing with no end in sight. Whenever he dared look at you, you flinched and squirmed in your seat, your eyes finding something else to look at.

He did not blame you, the thought of being married to a man as old as he was, whom you had known as a child, had to be truly unsettling.

He felt sick, what little he ate for breakfast threatening to make a reappearance. He brought his hand to his face and found it dampened with sweat. He wanted to leave, to never see you again.

“You’ve got to breathe, professor.”

At some point you had stood from your seat and stepped over to him, not that much separated his seat from yours. He almost yelled at you when your hand touched his own, fingertips gently wrapping around his and pulling his hand free, but he hadn’t the strength to do much but close his eyes, refusing to look at you.

Your hands were soft and cold as you placed the other one against his forehead, pushing his hair out of the way.

“Are you having trouble breathing?” you asked, your voice reminding him of the halls of St. Mungo. You must have gone into healing, all Medi-witches took on the same lilt after a while.

He could breathe just fine, even as his heart raced and the thought of your touch lingering on his skin brought about another wave of cold panic. He’s had his fair share of panic attacks, though most of them in private. Perhaps that’s why he’s a little harsh in gripping your wrist and pulling your hand away from his face, even though the coldness of your skin had begun to feel nice against his warm one.

But it was that very thought that had him tethering on a dangerous edge again. He had no right to think that anything about you felt nice. Nothing about this situation allowed for such an indulgence.

“Do not touch me,” he said, where his skin was flushed from his mental sickness, his voice still held no kindness. “I need no comfort, and certainly not from you.”

He could hear how harsh he sounded, just as he knew that none of this was your fault. But how angry he was in that moment, that reason seemed to leave him.

“It’s not a good feeling to know that my own husband hates the very sight of me.” You say, your own voice almost as angry as his.

Aesop’s eyes fly open when you call him ‘husband’. He finds you seated once more, your face turned away from him. Not that it does anything in dampening your radiating anger. He can feel it, slithering down to his lungs with every inhale.

“It’s not my fault you know. I didn’t get to decide who I’m forced to marry.”

Of course, you have all the right to be mad at him. He hasn’t exactly been kind to you this entire time. But in his anger, it seems that rationality has flown out the window.

“You are acting like there’s nothing wrong with this!” he retorted. “Do you not understand the severity of this union? What people would say when they find out?” It’s a wonder that he can keep his voice from rising until he’s shouting.

“Of course, I understand!” you turn to look at him, and while the anger is clear in the way your eyebrows knit together and your face has flushed, what Aesop hadn’t expected to see were the unshed tears that lined your eyes. “But you’re punishing me for something I can’t control! I didn’t know who was going to walk through that door, but I wasn’t expecting it to be you! And I wasn’t expecting you to be so repulsed by me that the very sight of me makes you sick!” your voice wavered, anger and hurt evident in your words.

Aesop felt a twinge of guilt as he watched you rub your eyes. Here he was, thinking only about himself when you were suffering as well.

His voice softened slightly as he retrieved a handkerchief and held it out to you. “I did not mean to make it seem that I am blaming you for this.” You don’t take the handkerchief and he crushes it into his fist, dropping his hand onto his lap.

“I know that this is difficult for you as well.” He admits, guilt growing stronger. “I didn’t expect to see you again, especially not like this. I... I need time to process, but it doesn’t excuse my behavior.”

The anger on your face seems to soften as you take a deep breath, your shoulders drooping as you exhale slowly. When you look at him again the tears are gone and you no longer look angry, but rather forlorn. Tired.

“Would it really be so awful?” You ask into the quiet that unfolded between you two. “Are you really so unwilling as to even try?”

“Try?” Aesop repeats, wishing that he had kept his mouth shut instead. He had a feeling about the words you were going to say, and he did not want to hear them. Not now. Not ever.

“I am not asking for you to love me overnight, but there is no getting out of this union. There is no divorce, no running away from this. Do you really think that it’s impossible for you to accept me? To become happy by my side?” The more you talk, your voice shakes slightly, as if you want to make this work. Or if it’s just the illusion you are trying to craft for both of you, Aesop is unsure. But you reach for him, take his hands in yours once again, as this time he doesn’t have the strength to pull away when your fingers wrap around his. You hold him lightly, but he can feel the pressure of your strength promising to keep him from pulling away.

“Will you not give me a chance to show you what good a wife I could be to you? Would you not give me, give us a chance?” You plea, leaning out of your seat. “Please, Aesop?”

He could no longer feel the chill of the late winter air, could no longer feel the tendrils of despair that had sent him reeling. In that moment, with the warmth of your hands grounding him, there was no running away from the reality that lay before him. Whether he wanted it or not, you were in his care. You were, in the eyes of everyone else, his wife.

He was terrified, terrified of what it meant, of what you were so willingly heading into. He was not a man in need of a wife, in need of anyone to nurture or care for. But how was he to say no, when you sat in front of him, begging him to take you? To let you in when he had never done such a thing in his life? He had known superficial relationships, had been with plenty of women, but none had he ever thought about sharing his life with, what little of it he had to offer.

He could already see the way people would stare at you, at him. Contempt in their eyes as he paraded you around the streets, Decree or not. Shamelessly bragging about how he was a man with no morals, marrying a recent graduate who probably still knew nothing of the world outside the halls of Hogwarts. Or perhaps they would blame you, would see you in your youth as nothing more than a leech, after what bit of coins he had. Would he be capable of comforting you then? Of wiping your tears away when their words ate at your soul and left you curled in bed, afraid of what awaited out there?

Would he kiss you until you felt better? Was a man like him able to coax a smile from your lips when you needed it most?

Aesop is gentle when he pulls his hands free. He thinks about moving back, of bringing a distance between the both of you so that you aren’t able to touch him again, but he watches the tremor of your lip, the way your skin flushes with sadness, and he pauses.

There was no denying that you were trying, more so than even he was willing to. He was not a legilimens, not that he wanted to sink into your thoughts and find out what you were thinking. He did not have to, not really. There was no woman who would be overjoyed at being told that she had to spend the rest of her life besides a man she knew nothing about.

Aesop takes your hands in his, his palms against the outside of your hands. He tries to ignore the slight tremble of his hands as he touches you, his thumbs finding the pulse of your wrists. He doesn’t know if what he feels is the erratic beat of your heart or his. Perhaps it’s both, perhaps it’s just a figment of his imagination. Either way, he presses down just a little harder, his hands firmly holding yours in place.

“I…I will try.” He finally says, hesitantly, unable to look you in the eyes, his own trailing the length of the scar across your thumb. “I cannot offer much, but this is of no one’s fault. I will not make this a burden for you to carry.”

He hears you sigh, the breath shaky as it leaves you, your own hands trembling in his.

“I will not be a burden to you, Aesop.” The words are a promise, a vow. This time, when you squeeze his hands, Aesop looks at you. What he finds in your eyes, he isn’t sure, and he doesn’t want to decipher what it could possibly mean when you smile at him lightly, the beating of your heart underneath his fingers almost matching his own slow, heavy beats.

“I-” He did not get a chance to say anything, a harsh knock on the door startling the both of you and making him let go, his head turning to face the doors.

Whoever was interrupting did not seem to be a patient person, the door opening. When Aesop saw Wilhelmina enter, he found that he wasn’t entirely surprised at her lack of respect.

“Wonderful to see you both here. How was your first meeting?” She spoke to them as if they were colleagues from different branches of the same company, not two individuals who had just been thrown into a government-arranged marriage. Aesop jaw feathered as he clenched it in irritation, watching as she made her way across the room to shut the window and pull the curtains together. “Well, I assume?” she did not let them speak, taking a seat in the chair behind the desk.

He glanced over at you, sitting straight up, your eyes on your lap. She must have made you as uncomfortable as she made him. He makes a mental reminder to ask you what she had done to you.

“As you are both well aware of, this union was created for the good of the Wizarding World. So do try your best to make it work, the fate of our future relies on your utmost cooperation.” In front of Wilhemina, on the desk, there is a single sheet of paper; A marriage certificate. He can already see the Ministry’s golden seal on the corner. A single empty line at the very end.

Part of him understood why this was happening. He knew that the Ministry was desperate. That if the Wizarding world ceased to exist then all those wars, all that history that preceded them would have been for naught. Yet at the same time, he could not help but feel that they had taken the one thing that made him human. The woman that sat next to him, was it not so long ago that they had been given the freedom to do as men could? Had they not been forced to do enough already?

Had he not done enough for them already?

Wilhelmina droned on, but he wasn’t listening. He could hear the ghost of his mother crying and apologizing to his sister for birthing her into a world that would never care for her properly. She had been 12 at the time, homeschooled because Hogwarts had not sent her an acceptance letter, though the neighbor’s son had already received one. He hadn’t realized what it meant at the time, too naive to see what was happening in front of him.

Was this what he was doing now as well? Refusing to truly see what lay in front of him? Was he clouded by anger, by selfishness that made him impervious to the larger picture? If the world ceased to exist, would his sister’s pain have been for nothing? Would his life have been for nothing? Would your struggles have been in vain?

Aesop's eyes narrowed, watching your discomfort. He could sense your unease, your subtle movements betraying your inner turmoil. It was infuriating.

Did you have any idea? Did you understand the weight of what was being imposed upon you? Did you feel silenced? Forced to accept, knowing nothing you did would ever be enough to free you?

His anger reaches a boiling point, finally spewing over.

“Did you know she was my student?” Aesop suddenly asks, pushing away his thoughts and looking away from you. “Did you know that she used to sit in my class late at night, practicing potions while I graded papers? That I punished her with cleaning Cauldrons and extra assignments when she misbehaved?” he doesn’t try to hold the anger from his voice.

For a second, Wilhelmina looks startled, but it disappears as she talks. “Of course. We are very thorough with our matches.”

“Then do you not see how wrong this union is, necessary or not? Do you truly think that I would be capable of taking her to bed as man and woman? When in my eyes she is nothing, will never be anything but my student?” His voice was cold, every word enunciated, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

There’s a sudden change to the atmosphere, Wilhelmina sitting up and leaning into the desk. “You will learn to move past it.” She says slowly. “To see her for the woman she is.”

“And if I find that I can’t?” Aesop spits out.

“Then close your eyes and do it anyways. Look at her, look at how beautiful your new wife is.” Aesop doesn’t turn to look at you.

“Do not act like you’re not a man with needs, with desires.”

“Enough!” you shout, rising to your feet. If Aesop’s anger had been explosive, then the only way to describe yours was that it was all consuming. He could feel it radiating off of you, stifling and hot. “You talk about me as if I am not here, as if I’m too stupid to understand!”

Even Wilhelmina keeps her mouth shut, her face a blank canvas as she waits for you to finish.

“I am not going to sit here and let you talk about me as if I was a common whore, brought in to satisfy both of your twisted needs. I did not ask for this marriage, but I am trying. I am trying so hard even when all I get are insults thrown at me. But do not confuse my compliance with consent. This Decree has taken enough from me, I will not let it take my voice as well.”

You turned to face him; your anger palpable enough that he almost flinched. “You said that you would not make this a burden, yet all you do is make me feel guilty over and over again. I’ve been your wife for an hour, and already I'm suffocating under the weight of your expectations and judgments."

Aesop opens his mouth, but you don’t let him speak.

“No,” you say firmly. “I won’t listen to any more excuses or false apologies. What’s done is done. From now on you show me that you're willing to make an effort, that you're willing to treat me with respect and dignity. We may not have chosen this situation, but we can choose how we handle it going forward."

Aesop’s expression softens as the weight of your words sink in. He had told you he would try, only to show you that his words meant nothing, that he was untrustworthy. “I am sorry.” He says gently, “I've been so focused on my own frustrations… I truly am sorry.”

You nod, the tension seemingly lessening from your shoulders. He doesn’t know if that means he’s forgiven, or if you need time to process his attempt at an apology. Either way, he wasn’t going to push. He’s done enough damage already.

“Are you quite finished with your outburst?” Wilhemina asks, completely unbothered. “We’ve much to discuss, unless you want to keep going then do let me know, I’ll busy myself with something else.”

The woman was completely infuriating, but you sat down, your jaw almost as tight as his.

She wastes no time, slipping into a speech that she must have recited hundreds of times before. It was all transactional to her, Aesop noticed. She didn’t see why this was wrong because in her eyes, there was nothing wrong. They were saving the magical world, so what if there was a bit of discomfort?

She signs the certificate at the very end, sealing the union. It’s a lackluster moment, both of you silent, the scratch of her quill on paper the only noise that breaks the silence.

“Congratulations,” she says, already slipping the sheet of paper into a manila folder that gets put into a drawer in her desk. She gives them a smile, interlocking her fingers together. “You are now officially a married couple. How joyous.”

She stands and you follow her lead, waiting for her to make her way across the room and to the door, which she holds open for you and him. Her smile is still there when you pass her, her eyes following you.

“Remember,” she says after you, making Aesop pause. “Every good marriage starts with a willing wife.”

Revulsion twists Aesop's stomach.

[ryehoneyinkstains]

The Lovers

Aesop Sharp/ Reader

𝖔𝖓𝖊

Aesop received the letter on the first of the second month of the year, just as the sun began to rise and he thought it was wise to call it a night. He had spent far too much time bent over his desk, jotting down notes as he worked on potion after potion until his vision became blurry and a headache began to form in a knot at his temples.

He would have ignored it, had the owl not begun to hoot and snap his beak at him, refusing to fly back until his job was completed. Out of annoyance, he stood, chair scraping against the wood of the floor and slowly made his way over to the open window. Every step made his tense muscles ache, the pain radiating up to the back of his neck, and by the time he reached the owl, Aesop was slightly out of breath, the dark magic that tainted his leg pulsing in waves that had him almost collapsing against the windowsill.

The owl nipped at the letter, pushing it towards him. Upon grabbing the letter and turning it around, Aesop’s face blanched, his pain momentarily forgotten.

The envelope was a rich crimson color, sealed with a wax stamp that showed the initials of the Ministry of Magic. A single M with a wand splitting it down the middle. Neatly written on the corner was the Department of Magical Unions and Alliances. Underneath that, he found his name.

The owl only left when Aesop shakily ripped open the envelope, the cold grip of anxiety replacing his exhaustion. It took him multiple times to comprehend what was written, almost as if he had forgotten how to read or process the words on the paper.

Dear Mr. Sharp,

We extend our warm greetings to you on behalf of the Ministry of Magic, Department of Magical Unions and Alliances. It is with great pleasure and importance that we bring to your attention Decree No. 243-CM, issued under the new law of Magical Unions Preservation Act.

As you are undoubtedly aware, the wizarding world has faced a significant decline in birthrates among witches and wizards in recent years. The Ministry of Magic, recognizing the imminent threat this poses to the magical community, has implemented measures to safeguard the future of our society. The Magical Unions Preservation Act aims to address this issue by encouraging responsible and strategic unions among eligible witches and wizards.

In accordance with the aforementioned Act, it has been determined by the Ministry that you, Mr. Aesop Sharp, are to be united in matrimony with a witch found to be most suitable to you, based on a thorough assessment of magical compatibility, shared values, and backgrounds.

The selected partner, whose identity will be revealed to you at a later date, has been chosen with utmost care to ensure the prosperity and continuation of magical heritage. The wedding ceremony is scheduled to take place on February 23, 1897 and we anticipate your cooperation in making this event a success.

It is crucial to understand that this union is not only a personal commitment but a noble contribution to the preservation of our magical society. We trust that you will approach this arrangement with the gravity it deserves, recognizing the greater purpose it serves for the future of our magical community.

Should you have any concerns or inquiries regarding this matter, please do not hesitate to contact the Department of Magical Unions and Alliances. Your cooperation and understanding in this vital endeavor are greatly appreciated.

Wishing you a future filled with magical harmony and prosperity.

Sincerely,

Wilhelmina Quillington

Undersecretary to the Minister for Magical Law Enforcement

Department of Magical Unions and Alliances

Bile rose in his throat as he slammed the letter face down against the windowsill. For some reason, Aesop thought that he was somehow exempt from selection. Sure, he had been told that it was mandatory for every single witch or wizard to register, but he had seen the way the ministry clerk looked at him with pity in her eyes. He was in his forties, crippled and bordering on becoming an alcoholic. Just like he had caught her whispering to her coworker when he was making his way out of the office, Aesop agreed that there was no way the ministry would force a woman to marry him when he couldn’t even take care of himself. Declining population or not, some people were just meant to be alone.

But the letter was right there in front of him, telling him that in some cruel way, his solitude was not to be his own.

Part of him is tempted to throw the letter in the fire and act like he had never received it. But he wasn’t a child, able to throw a tantrum about the things he didn’t like until someone took what discomforted him away. He would have to face reality eventually.

With a shaky breath he takes the letter and folds it back up. He could reach out to Wilhelmina, and tell her what exactly? That he had only entered his name in the registry because the law called for it? Tell her thank you, but no, he was uninterested? They wouldn’t care. He’d probably end up in the catacombs of the Ministry jail if he was lucky, Azkaban if they decided to use him to prove a point.

No longer tired, Aesop reached for the vial of Wiggenweld he kept on him. It wouldn’t exactly heal the aching in his muscles, but it would make it a bit more manageable. At least enough for him to make it to his classroom to be able to concoct something stronger.

The letter is a heavy weight in the pocket of his slacks as he finds his coat and wand. He leaves the window open, just in case another Ministry Owl decides to fly in and drop a letter onto his desk telling him that there had been a mix up in the system and they hadn’t meant to pull his name.

Hopeful thinking, of course, not that it would get him anywhere to set his expectations on such unlikely outcomes.

There was a different keeper sitting behind the desk when Aesop Sharp entered the Department of Magical Unions and Alliances on the 23rd day of February. She was younger, with cornsilk colored hair that was elegantly pulled into a braid that seemed to snake around her scalp. She was dressed in the same crimson shade as the envelope he handed her, a ministry pin on her left shoulder.

Her eyes grew wide as she took the envelope from him and pulled out a ledger from underneath the desk. “Congratulations,” she said, her voice syrupy sweet and thick with an accent he couldn’t quite place. “I’m sure you’re excited to meet your new bride.”

He did not flinch, though he wanted to, and instead gave her a curt nod, his face tense.

He had been here a week earlier, scheduled for a meeting with the head of the department herself.  He had pulled strings and called in owed favors to secure himself the meeting. But the moment he walked into her office and tried to justify why wanted nothing to do with his arranged union, he knew that he had made a mistake in coming here.

“Are you not lonely?” she had asked him, ignoring everything he had said. She was an older woman, with short silver curls and dark skin. Her uniform was a darker shade of red, tailored specifically to her.

“Pardon me?” was his only response, not expecting her to ask him such a personal question.

She motioned to the papers neatly laid in front of her. “I have your files here Aesop, I can call you Aesop, can’t I?”

She didn’t let him answer.

“And while I am impressed and thankful for all you have done for the security of the Magical World, why is it that a man such as yourself remains single?”

“I’ve dedicated my life to my work.” He answers bitterly, feeling the need to defend his choices.

“Yes, but at what cost?” She flips over a page and taps on it with her fingernail. “You haven’t been an Auror in almost five years. Are you so busy as a school teacher that you’ve been unable to find a bride?”

Frustration rises in the pit of his belly as he sits up straighter. “I have no interest in marriage. In building a family.”

“Oh, that’s nonsense. Everyone craves someone to love them. It is simply human nature. Are you trying to tell me that somehow that doesn’t apply to you?”

The weight of her words seemed to press down on him, his collar suddenly tight around his neck.

“It’s not that I am incapable of love,” he begins, clearing his throat and finding the way she stared at him uncomfortable. “I simply want to spend my time in solitude.”

Wilhelmina leaned forward in her seat, interlocking her fingers in front of her. “Want is such a selfish word don’t you think, Aesop? I want… We as a society need to stop thinking about ourselves as individuals. We need to start thinking about what we,” she made sure to emphasize the word, “need as a society. It’s selfishness that got us into this situation, and its only selflessness that can save us.”

Aesop felt his frustration turn into simmering anger as Wilhelmina continued to talk. The room seemed to close in around him and the air seemed to thicken with tension. He fought the urge to get up and walk away, knowing that doing so would only reap heavy consequences.

“The Ministry has invested in you, Aesop, and it's time for you to invest in the future of our magical community. Solitude, as you call it, is a luxury we can no longer afford. You have the power to make a difference, not just in your life but in the destiny of our world. Would you really throw all that away because you’re afraid of sacrificing a bit of your personal comfort?”

Wilhelmina spoke with admonition; the way leaders spoke to their supporters. He would not walk out of here having changed anything. It had all been a waste of time, thinking that he had a choice in the matter.

His anger flared as he clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “I've dedicated my life to the service of magic and the security of our world. Sacrifice is not a foreign concept to me," Aesop replied, his words laced with a stubborn resolve.

Wilhelmina's gaze held firm, unyielding. “Then consider this the next chapter in your dedication.”

 That was it, what was left of his resolve shattered.

She thanked him for his time and wished him well in life with his soon-to-be wife as she walked him out of his office.

He could still taste the lingering bitterness of defeat on his tongue as he followed the blonde to a room at the very back of the building. She tried to talk to him, but he ignored her, not in the mood to be friendly.

He had shaved that morning, donned his finest suit and even went as far as to spray a bit of cologne upon himself. While he wanted nothing to do with his predicament, Aesop was still a man of honor. He would not show up looking disheveled and dirty. He would not punish whoever awaited him behind those chestnut doors for something that she had no control over.

If he was to bind himself to another human being, the least he could do was try. Though, one look at the way he limped and carried his lame leg, and he knew that all his efforts would have been for naught. No one in their right mind wanted to be with a man damaged as he was.

“Here we are, Mr. Sharp.” the woman said, no longer looking at him. He must have hurt her feelings, ignoring her like that.

He thanked her, but she stayed put, waiting for him to enter the room. He wonders how many men had tried to run away that she felt obligated to stay. Or maybe she was waiting until he entered the room to lock him in there.

“Best not keep her waiting.” She says, urging him to move past his nerves and get it over with. When he looks over at her, she smiles at him encouragingly.

With a deep breath that does nothing to settle his frayed nerves, Aesop takes the delicately curved handle of the door and pushes it open.

The room inside is smaller than he envisioned, windows lined the wall right in front of him, the curtains drawn to the side to let the morning light in. Someone had opened it, the gentle morning breeze of a slow winter comfortably chilled the room. There was a desk in front of the window and two plush chairs in front of that. The one to his left was empty. On the right sat a young woman, who turned around to face him as the doors creaked open.

Perhaps this was the world punishing him for his wrong doings. For the cockiness of his youth, the recklessness that followed. Whatever it was that sat above in the heavens and watched down at him must have been angry at him because he knew the young woman that locked eyes with him. He had taught her how to create potions that would make a man turn into stone, poisons that would make one fall into an endless slumber.

You, at one point, had been a star pupil. A young girl with great skill and potential, his favored student.

And now you stood in front of him, his wife.

[ryehoneyinkstains]

Will you ever write for Aesop again? You're the best Sharp writer out here <3

maaaybe.

Honestly right now I have no plans to (1. I'm afraid of writing for him. Not like scared scared, but I havent played the game in forever. I'm positive if I wrote for him now it wouldn't be like I usually do. 2. I'm writing for other fandoms now and dont plan on coming back anytime soon.)

I might, like, randomly drop something thats been simmering on the back of my mind but like if I dont I dont.

in the mean time, may I introduce you to the best sharp writers out there? i dont know if theyre still writing but I love all of their aesop works (and them of course)

[ryehoneyinkstains]

Hey,read your Diego x Eight one shot. I really adored it and loved your OC Number 8. Do you have any plans for more of her? Or any HCs?

I DO ACTUALLY.

I'm really glad that you enjoyed that! It was my first sort of time dabbling in the fandom and I was scared it would sink. You can follow me here where I will be posting more work with them!

[ryehoneyinkstains]

Someone on Ao3 seems to have uploaded your story to their account just wanting to let you know, their username is eveningwraiths!

thats me actually! Im hoping to transfer everything over (slowly)

[ryehoneyinkstains]

Getting on here for just a second to share some good news. While I know that a lot of people have been waiting for the final part of The Bitter Taste of Dittany, I'm really sorry to say that I may not be ever finishing it. Well... at least not as the story you all know. Since you know... Its getting rewritten and published as an actual book!

Dittany is a story very, very close to my heart. While I cant share a lot of details about it right this minute, I am so excited for how this new and improved version is coming along! More news the closer we get to publishing (2025)

Much, much love, Bee!

[ryehoneyinkstains]

It's honestly hilarious (and obviously frustrating) that I only started to receive anon hate (a pathetic attempt at that) after I called out that dumb discord groups bullshit. Like it doesn't take a genius to know where its coming from.

A group of grown ass women, mad over what exactly? That I, a poc, called you all out on your shit?

Yall need to grow up, for real. go take care of your children, get some therapy.

No wonder the sharp community has gone to shit.

[ryehoneyinkstains]

Good riddance, we're so glad you're finally leaving. Talentless hack

thats a good one, anon. How about you get a hobby?

[ryehoneyinkstains]

At the end of the month I will be leaving the Harry Potter fandom. What exactly does that mean? I don't know, honestly. I just no longer feel any joy/ connection to these characters.

I may come back. I might not.

I am thankful for everything, for everyone. But it's time for something new.

[ryehoneyinkstains]

Tempestuous

Severus Snape/ Gryffindor reader

18+ MDNI.

(Look, this had been a gift I wrote to someone I once considered a friend. At first I was going to delete it, but I've decided to just make it an x reader and post it. Enjoy, I might not write anything for Severus for a long time.)

Severus Snape does not need to look away from his work to know who was bold enough to pry open the door to his classroom at such a late hour. He knows it's you; perhaps it’s the way you don’t care to hide the heaviness of your steps, or the subtle way a sudden wave of electricity charges the air, making him straighten in his seat. But he knows that the young woman making her way towards his desk was going to make it impossible for him to finish his work.

"Whatever it is you've come here for," he speaks without raising his eyes, willing himself to pay attention to the parchment in front of him. It was becoming harder to find enough time to catch up with his responsibilities in the classroom, he could not afford a distraction on such a rare peaceful night. "Let it wait until morning."

The sound of your scoff as you pull a chair to his desk and unceremoniously throw yourself in it almost has him looking up. Almost.

"I will not think twice about giving you detention." There’s a slight pause before he adds "With Professor Binns."

"Okay," you say, not a single care in your voice. "I'll take that risk. What are we working on?"

"We," he says with a bite, "Are not working on anything. You are going to put that chair back and go back to your Common Room before I deduct enough house points to make every other Gryffindor despise you."

"You'd sleep so comfortably knowing that you ruined another Gryffindor's life, wouldn't you? That's quite the sadistic trait, Severus."

With the sound of his name leaving your mouth he looks up, his mouth twisting down in disappointment. " You will address me by Professor." he hisses, his eyes finding yours. "Do not get too comfortable with me. I am your professor, not your friend."

"Might as well take those points then," you say with a grin before reaching for the parchment that was in front of him. His hand closes around your wrist before you can snatch it away.

He does not miss the way your eyebrow raises. You were doing this on purpose, of course. Why you derived some sort of pleasure from torturing him, he did not know. But he had no intention of asking.

"Hands off what doesn't belong to you."

Your grin grows to something dangerous. "Are you saying I belong to you, Professor?" you motioned to the way his hand still firmly held yours in place, unmoving even as you wiggled your slender fingers in place.

His frown deepened as he slowly let go, your question not only irritating him but making an uninvited warmth pool in his abdomen, the muscles there contracting at the way you teased him.

'Impertinent brat.' He thinks to himself, looking away from your face.

"Out!" he barks, slapping your hand off his desk when you try once more to grab his things. "I will not warn you again."

There's a slight pause where he thinks that you will finally give up and leave him be but instead you sigh, your voice taking an uncharacteristically quieter tone he wasn't used to.

"I can't sleep," you start, and he wonders when he asked for such information.

Still, he finds himself listening.

"I figured a walk around the castle might help burn off some energy and tire me out, but it didn't really manage to do anything."

"So, you decided to come here and burden me with your problems?"

"Yeah. That's pretty much it. Now, pass me one of those fancy pens and let me help you grade some of these papers."

"No." he says, ignoring the way you held out a hand for a quill. "This is not a social gathering, and I am not your counselor. If you cannot sleep, that is not my concern. Now, leave this classroom immediately, or I will have no choice but to report this incident to the Head of Gryffindor House."

"Huh," is your simple response, and he watches as you tilt your head to the side, a look of disappointment on your face. "I never took you for being a snitch, professor. It doesn't suit you at all."

"Snitch?" he repeats, appalled. His eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. He despised being called names or having his integrity questioned, especially by a student.

"I am not a 'snitch,' as you so carelessly put it," he retorted, his voice laced with restrained anger. "If you persist in staying here after hours without a valid reason, it is my duty to inform the appropriate authority."

You seemed unimpressed by his explanation, crossing your arms defiantly. "Well, it's not like I'm doing anything harmful, am I? Just trying to have a conversation, but I guess you're too rigid for that."

Snape's jaw clenched. He knew you were trying to provoke a reaction, but he refused to be drawn into a battle of wits with a student. Keeping his composure, he replied, "Conversations are best had at appropriate times and places. This is neither."

"Fine, I get it," you say, your voice slightly deflated. "You're just like every other professor here, cold and heartless."

If your intentions were to somehow make him feel bad, perhaps it would have worked in your favor. But even with the tint of sadness in your voice and your drooped shoulders, he could see the obvious impishness in your eyes. You were trying to manipulate him and he wasn't going to fall for it.

"Ah, the classic tactic of playing the wounded soul to get your way," Snape retorted with a slight smirk, his dark eyes meeting yours with a glint of amusement. "I must admit, you have quite a talent for dramatics. It's almost endearing, if it weren't for the fact that I'm well aware of your little games."

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Games, Professor? I wouldn't dare play games with you," you said, feigning innocence but failing miserably.

"Please spare me the act. If you are truly interested in conversation, there are better ways to go about it. Sneaking into my classroom at this ungodly hour is hardly the most effective approach."

"It worked though, didn't it?"

He doesn't deny the truth.

"Move your seat beside mine. If you are to assist, I will make sure that you do a good job. I'm in no mood to double my workload."

"Professor Snape wants me to sit next to him?" you tease, standing up and grabbing your chair.

"Behave yourself," he says when you place your chair a bit too close. "I am not granting you free rein to misbehave. I expect you to conduct yourself appropriately and focus on the task at hand."

"What do you consider inappropriate?"

He places a stack of parchments in front of you, setting the quill he was using on top. "Flirting with a professor, to start."

"Oh. Was it that obvious?" you pick up the quill, twirling it around your fingers.

You were so nonchalant about it, as if flirting with him was the most natural thing in the world. He was not about to admit that while he found it vexing, below that there was a bit of intrigue at your audacity.

"I have no intention of entertaining such advances so quit it." he makes sure to emphasize the last two words. Intrigue did not mean he was willing to jeopardize everything.

 You tilt your head, your gaze locked with his. "And if I were to say that I find your resistance even more enticing?"

Snape narrows his eyes, his expression growing colder. He doesn't humor you with a response, simply turned in his seat and grabbed the hand that threatened to ruin the feather on his quill. He did not gauge your reaction as his fingers slowly worked to peel yours open.

He was aware of the slight, almost nonexistent hitch in your breath as he properly placed the quill in your hand and made you close your fingers before placing the tip of the pen against a piece of parchment.

"Work." is all he says as he lets go of your, the single word a command that he would not have questioned.

"Fine," you say with a pout, your bottom lip poking out. Your eyes drop down and Severus sighs with relief internally.

He could handle you quite well if you stayed quiet and did as told. The minute you opened your mouth, you became a challenge he wasn't always prepared to face.

The silence that falls between them is a welcomed one, even if having you so close to him has him tensing up, his concentration slightly compromised. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't help but be aware of your proximity, the subtle rise and fall of your breath, and the occasional brush of your arm against his.

Perhaps it was the late hour, or the soft scent that seemed to radiate from you, but Severus found his eyes wandering towards you.

He was not surprised to find your already staring at him, work abandoned.

"Can't keep your eyes off me, huh?" You licked your lips and wiggled your eyebrows at him.

Severus tilted his head to the side just a fraction, the only tell on his face was the downturn of his lips. He ignores your terrible attempt at seduction and simply looks at you.

"Your hair," he says, noticing the way you braided your hair into a single neat plait, when you always seemed to wear it down.

"Yeah?" you squint, "What about it?"

He wants to laugh at the defensive tone in your voice but chooses not to. You would probably take offense to it, and he had no need to piss you off.

"It suits you."

"Oh," you mumbled, your face instantly turning a warm pink, your eyes dropping to your lap.

It was not the reaction Severus was expecting, and he could not help but add, "You should braid it more often, it brings out your features."

Your blush deepened, the warmth on your face making Severus take a deep breath as the tips of your fingers brushed against your hair. "I think it makes me look too feminine."

He raises an eyebrow, considering your words before he replies. "There is nothing feminine about you."

Just as he imagined you would, you suddenly sat up straighter and shot him a glare, your voice clipped when you asked him what he meant.

"Not everything is an insult, you know."

"So that was what, some sort of backhanded compliment?"

"It was a straightforward compliment," He responded calmly, his dark eyes fixed on your reaction. "I meant what I said. Your features are unique and captivating, and the way you braided your hair brought them out even more. You should embrace that."

It was so easy to make you blush, to fluster you with compliments. How very unlike your usual demeanor, were you were all rough angles and biting remarks. There was something about seeing you act so meek around him that had Severus pressing for more, reason pushed aside momentarily.

His hand comes up to your face, your eyes widening as he lets his knuckle trace the contour of your cheek for a brief second. Your skin was warm. Electric.

“Why did you really come here?” he asks.

You shiver lightly when he touches you again, this time his fingers lingering on the angle of your jaw.

“I told you already,” you whispered, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“What stopped you from taking another sleeping potion from my supply closet? Oh yes,” he smirked, his hand finding the back of your head. He liked the way you froze underneath his touch. “I’m aware of your ill-mannered habits.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to probably deny and call him a liar, but his nails gently scratch the back of your head and your mouth immediately shut, your pupils widening.

 He could almost hear the erratic beat of your heart.

“Did you come here in hopes of a more personal cure to your problems?”

“What do you-”

He did not let you interrupt him. If he was going to sink his teeth into temptation, he had no intention of being kind. He stands, forcing you to follow him up, his hand still on the nape of your neck. “This is your last chance. Walk out of this classroom.”

“No,” you say breathlessly.

“Stupid girl,” he growls, forcing you on his desk, uncaring of the light yelp you lets out as you barely catch yourself with your arms.

He whispers a silencing charm, his hand settling between your shoulder blades as he bends over your, “We will not make a habit of this, do you understand?” he speaks against your ear, his left hand slipping underneath you. He could feel how tense you were as his hand found your thigh.

Severus liked the feeling of your toned muscles as he let his hand slide higher, finding the buckle of your belt. “How long have you dreamt of this?”

“Too long,” you say, the sound of him undoing your belt almost drowning out your voice from how softly you spoke.

“Do you touch yourself to the thought of me?” He let his lips find the side of your neck, laving at the skin there and you moan, his fingers pulling the zipper down. “Do you lay awake at night, thinking of the way my cock could stretch your cunt out?”

“Uh,” you let out a tiny whimper that had him nipping at your neck.

“Answer me.”

“Yes!” you said, arching your back as his fingers slip into the waistband of your underwear. He strokes your hip coaxing a better answer. “Yes, fuck, I can’t sleep without coming to the thought of you.”

Severus groans, pushing his hand down until he slips his fingers through your wet cunt. “Already so fucking wet.” He hisses, parting your lips and coating his fingers in your slick. His movements were slow, deliberate. His thumb found your clit and he pressed down lightly, his middle finger running along the curve of you until he found your entrance.

Every moan of yours, the way you tilted your hips, seeking more of his hand, had his cock hardening against the curve of your ass. He rubbed at your clit, savoring the way you mewled.

“Severus!” you cried, and he pushed against your back with a ‘tsk’.

“You will address me as Professor. Do you understand?”

You nodded and he slipped his finger into your cunt. So hot, so tight. He would enjoy fucking you. “Use your words.”

“Yes!”

“Yes?” he repeated, slowly pulling his finger free before adding another one and pushing them in as deep as they could go. “Yes, what?” he was fucking you with his hand, curling his fingers against your walls.

“Yes, Professor!”

He groaned, forcing his fingers in deeper, harder, his hips moving against your, trying to find some sort of relief from the growing pressure of his cock hardening.

“Do you want to come around my fingers?”

“Please,” you keened, your cunt clenching around his thick fingers rabidly. “Please, please Severus,”

He froze, his fingers slowing down but still pumping into your. “What did I say?”

“I-I, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it. Please don’t stop, I’m so close,” you began to moan, your words melting into nonsensical slurring. You had the audacity to reach for his hand, your slender fingers wrapping around his wrist as you began to fuck yourself with his hand.

“Good girl.” He growled, letting your chase your own orgasm.

“Oh!” your movements became sloppier, your cunt sucking at his fingers “I’m going to -”

Severus pulled his fingers free, sliding out of your cunt with ease and you gasped and cursed at him.

He could not help his smirk as he slid out of your underwear and forced your fingers to let go of him. “You will only come around my cock. Like a good little whore...”

“Nn,” You let out, pressing your face against his desk as he straightened up and wasted no time in pushing down your trousers. His cock ached and he wanted nothing more than to feel the tightness of your cunt around him. He craved more of your tiny little noises.

“Take your clothes off.”

“Huh?”

Severus grabbed you by the arm and forced you up.

“Strip. Now.”

You hesitated; your mind cloudy from the pleasure but Severus was in no mind to be patient. He reached in front of you and found the buttons on your shirt. “I will rip this off you.”

You nodded, understanding him, and replaced his fingers with your own and began to slowly undo them.

Severus leered, his hand coming to rest on the nape of your neck once more as you undressed.

Your shirt fell to the ground, followed by your bra. He stopped your before you bent down to slide your underwear off, his hands cupping your breasts from behind.

“Oh,” you mewled when his fingers pinched at your nipples, his lips finding your shoulder.

“Divine,” he groaned, squeezing your chest. “All of you.” He gently bit down, his hands sliding along your body until he was holding your waist, fingers sinking into the smooth skin.

“Have you… thought of me?” you said quietly, letting him work your shorts down your legs, stepping out of them with his help.

“No.” he says bluntly, once more bending your over his desk. This time you don’t care to hold yourself up, your cheek pressed against parchment. You let him press your legs close together, arching your back.

“Never?” you asked as he undid his belt and the buttons of his trousers. He did not care about undressing as he freed his cock with a hiss.

He ignored your question.

“Are you on any potions?” his voice is strained as he ran his finger against the head of his cock. You shook your head, and he squeezed your hip.

“I’m going to fill you with my come..”

You let out a whimper when he took a step forward and placed the tip of his cock against your cunt, teasing your soaked folds.

“Yes,” you hissed, “Breed me.”

“Breed you?” he groaned, pushing into your cunt until it swallowed the tip. The tightness, the heat that enveloped him had him clenching his jaw in concentration. “You want me to breed that tight cunt of yours?”

You trembled, your cunt tightening even more. “Yes!”

He made a guttural noise, sinking his cock into your in one fluid move until his hips were flush against you. “Take it then, milk my cock for every drop.”

You gasped as he slid out and grabbed the base of his cock, running it along the length of your cunt before shoving it back inside. He did not care about taking it slow, about making the pleasure last. He wanted to come, wanted to lose himself in the way your cunt gripped him. He rutted into your, deep, long strokes that forced you to accommodate, to take every single inch.

And how good you were doing, gripping the edge of his desk as he fucked your, high pitched moans escaping your throat as you arched your back and squeezed at his cock. It’s impossible for him to keep from making noise, from letting you know just how good you felt, you made him feel. He groans, bending over your back without stopping.

The change of position, the way his cock reaches a new depth, sliding against that spot that he had been teasing with his fingers for so long has your trembling. He could feel it as he placed kisses against your back, could feel the way you were so close to coming.

His moans meld with yours, with the wet sound of your cunt being abused and it drives him wild, has him wrapping his arms around your, pining your arms to your chest.

“Professor- Snape- I need…” your words aren’t coherent, spoken into his desk as he picks up speed, slamming his cock in and out of you.

“Words.” He bites down on your shoulder, hard. You yelp, trashing around but he has you pinned between his body, the desk, his cock.

Theres nowhere for you to go, nothing for you to do but take him.

You’re babbling, arching your back as your cunt grows tighter, hotter. He runs his tongue against the bite he gave you, tasting your skin.

“I’m going to come,” he warns you, gives you a chance to tell him that you’ve changed your mind, that you want him to pull out. But you don’t and so he pushes inside you once. Twice. Moans your name against your back as his balls tighten and his seed coats your walls.

Your orgasm comes at the same time, your hips bucking wildly, almost pushing him off.

Through the way you clench his cock Severus slowly pumps his hips, fucking his come deeper into your cunt before he softens inside of you.

You both stay like that for a second, both of you trying to catch your breath.

He could still feel you pulsing around his sensitive length, but he couldn’t bring himself to slip out, to break your connection.

It’s only when you manage to catch your breath that you asks him to let go and he complies, releasing your arms before he pulls out of your with a silent hiss. Your back is red, covered in light scratches from the buttons of his frock, the bite on your shoulder still prominent. Severus can’t help but feel a wave of possessive greed wash over him as he watches you stand up on shaky legs.

He doesn’t worry about cleaning himself off, simply slips his cock back into his trousers and reaches for your shirt.

“Here,” he says, pressing the white fabric against you.

You nod but he has to help you slip your arms through the sleeves, your eyes hazy from the pleasure. He takes his time buttoning up your shirt, his eyes roaming along your body before meeting yours.

“Are you with me?” he asked, cupping your face. “Or have I fucked all sense from you?”

“I’m here” you whisper, drooping your head into his hand. “Kinda.”

Severus was not the type to indulge in post sex affection, already he was hoping to shoo you out of his classroom. But when you sighed and closed your eyes, well, perhaps he didn’t have to rush you.

He helps your back into your underwear, the sight of your swollen cunt, his seed on your cunt; that possessive heat grips at him once again.

“Sit.”

You let him help your onto his chair.

“That was good.”

“Good?” he scoffs, picking up the rest of your uniform, the word an insult.

“Amazing. I want to do it again.”

Severus drops your clothes onto your lap, crossing his arms over his chest. “Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not about to make fucking students a habit of mine.”

“Not students. Me. Just me.”

“No.” he repeats, removing the silencing charm as you begin to dress.

“But-”

He cuts you off with a piercing look. He was not in the mood to entertain an argument.

You sigh, rolling your eyes. “You’re going to change your mind.”

“Am I now? What makes you so sure?”

“I just know.” You smirk, a glimmer of mischief dancing in your eyes. "I've seen your walls crumble before, Professor Snape. I have a feeling they might crumble again."

He ignores you, fixing the mess on his desk with a wave of his wand. “Arrogance will get you nowhere.”

“It got me laid.” you said, smirking at him. “Full of your-”

Severus places a hand over your mouth before you can finish your sentence. “I am aware of how my seed drips from your cunt.” He growls, watching the flush return to your cheeks under his hand. “If you keep testing me, it won’t be the only hole I fill tonight.” He leans in closer. “Do we understand?”

You nodded and he let go of you. 

“Are you saying you changed your mind?” you say, excitement and exhaustion in your voice.

You’d let him fuck you into oblivion, until you couldn’t think of anything else. Until you were so full of him nothing else mattered.

Severus feels his cock jump at the thought.

“On your knees, you insufferable brat.” He growls, hating the power you held over him.

[ryehoneyinkstains]

I'm looking for a beta reader who is open to let me rant and ramble at odd times and read my nonsense and provide feedback.

[ryehoneyinkstains]

The Dreamer

Aesop Sharp/ Reader

Aesop's annoyed, but he takes care of you. Literal rambling.

Aesop Sharp had volunteered to take you home only because he did not trust Nigellus Black to keep his hands off of you.

You were drunk. A giggling, sloppy mess.

It actually agitated Aesop Sharp to see you act like that. Not because he thought the behavior was shameful, simply because it seemed that with all the alcohol you had drunk, your common sense flew out the window.

You had been flirting with him after your sixth drink. Shamelessly at that. You'd place your hand on his thigh, bat your eyelashes anytime he said something that could be considered remotely funny. It was only when you had tried to press yourself against him under the guise of slipping, that Aesop finally had enough.

He had pushed you away, grinding his teeth so hard that his jaw began to ache. Told you to compose yourself and stepped outside to cool himself off.

He hadn't been angry. No, his cock had jumped in his trousers at your first touch, slowly turning into a throbbing, solid mass that seemed to refuse to go down no matter what he did to try to relax.

His erection only disappeared when he saw Nigellus, in all his married glory, corner you. He had been a little too close, a little too handsy for Aesop's liking.

What infuriated him most was how receptive you had been, your hand on his shoulder, holding him close.

That had been the last straw. He grabbed you, pulling you away from the horrible man, and told you he was taking you home.

You whined and pouted, but somehow he got your coat on you and was leading you towards your flat in the outskirts of Hogsmeade.

You had clung to him, babbling on and on about things as if you hadn't just tried to seduce him and your own boss in the span of the same hour.

Honestly, he shouldn't had let you drink so much. Or maybe he should have left earlier. Spared himself the burning anger that refused to leave him, even as he fished the key from the inside of your coat and helped you inside.

He had helped you out of your clothing, out of your shoes. He had even helped unbraid your hair when you complained that the elaborate hairstyle was bothering you.

He helped you up the steps and into your bed. Ignoring the way you had tried to get him to stay, to join you.

You were drunk. He knew better.

He tucks you in and leaves you, tells himself that its better this way.

He'd rather you wake up only having to nurse a hangover, not to him naked in your bed, wondering what the hell happened.

Aesop locks your door, taking a deep breath as he lets go of the door knob and thinks about how fucking stupid this whole night has been.

[ryehoneyinkstains]

Aesop's received a letter.

[ryehoneyinkstains]

Aesop is so malewife coded, I cannot wait for you guys to read what I am working on and see what I am seeing.

[ryehoneyinkstains]

Kindling

Viktor Rookwood x Reader

Drabble. Mostly nonsense.

There was something vicious about Victor Rookwood.

Something dark and hungry. You could see it in his eyes. The way he looked at you reminded you of the way predators played with their prey, how they kept them alive until the very last moment, sinking their teeth into them and tearing them apart until there was nothing left but the taste of blood on their tongue.

Underneath sweetened words and whispered promises, you knew that the man's words were empty, that he simply said what you wanted to hear. A part of you knew that if it ever came to, he would sacrifice you without a second thought if it meant saving himself. Still, you had taken his hand, had felt the way the muscles in his arm tightened as his smile grew and he pulled you to your feet. Your stomach had sunk at that very moment, every single nerve ending coming alive and telling you to run. To get as far away as possible from him before you were found dead in a ditch somewhere.

If you were found.

You could have ran, could have killed him then and there and done the world a favor. Instead you melted into him, found a comfort in the hardness of his body, in the heavy scent of smoke that clung to him. You let him pull you to his chest as his nose nudged the side of your head. He had whispered something, and even now you weren't sure if you could trust your ears or if there was a part of you so twisted that you sought out a sliver of affection from the horrid man.

"You are mine."

You swore he said, his fingers digging into the sweater you wore with such a ferocity that you could feel his nails leave behind imprints on your skin. The words should have scared you, should have snapped you to your senses and made you realize what a terrible mistake you were making. That the path you were willingly stepping onto was a perilous one. That in the end, the world would never be big enough for the both of you.

But instead, they stirred something in you; a desire that you had never experienced before. It tasted sweet on your tongue, made you light headed with a heady mix of fear and fascination. It was as though you were standing on the precipice of a dark, thrilling abyss, and the allure of the unknown was impossible to resist.

So you let him hold you, let him take you far away from the world you knew. You wanted to be with him, even if it meant signing your own death certificate.

There was nothing good about Victor Rookwood, but in that moment, you realized that perhaps there was nothing good about you either.

[ryehoneyinkstains]

My goodness ❤️

Ch. III

Word Count: 3529

Masterlist ¤ AO3 ¤ Ko-Fi

~

AN: If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know! Hope you enjoy it!

《《 Previous - Next》》

It had taken Aesop a few days to come up with some kind of plan. What had once been an empty set of cubicle walls around him were now filled with notes, annotations, witness statements, and a clear picture of what he had to work with. What sat in the middle of it all was the wanted poster of Lenore, her hopeful eyes staring back at him. He could only imagine what she would be looking like now, on the run and in hiding. He had apprehended wizards who had been in hiding for quite a while, and the state they were in, the image of her like that made him shudder.

Throughout the few days here, Aesop was lucky to find the class that Lenore had been training with, some willing to sit and talk with him. Some were less cooperative, not exactly wanting to recount the scene. He did empathise, of course a situation like that would want to be forgotten, yet he could not deny the growing frustration he was feeling. All he wanted were answers, as fast as possible. None of this was making sense to him, and Aesop despised feeling lost like this.

As he was packing up his desk, gathering everything he would need for the next part of this investigation, he heard someone clear their throat, making him turn. Before him stood a young woman, with eyes that took even Aesop aback. Just her rested face alone looked to be throwing iced daggers at him, yet her overall demeanour seemed almost timid and shy. Long black hair framed her face, ties tightly behind her back, falling past her waist. He quickly cleared his own throat, straightening himself. "May I… help you?" He did not recognize her from the class.

"M-Mr. Sharp. I apologise if I was interrupting anything," Her eyes darted between him and the reports and papers surrounding the walls, swallowing nervously. "I just… I heard you were asking about Miss Arkanos and.." Aesop immediately arched a brow, moving closer to the woman.

"Not out here…" His voice was low and quiet, escorting the women to the back of the room. He quickly waved his wand in front of a door, ushering her in before following, locking the door. I side was a basic interrogation room, black walls, a simple table and chairs facing each other in the middle of the room. The woman only noticed sitting down that Aesop had gone to the corner of the room, procuring two porcelain cups of tea. "I know you're nervous, this should help." He placed the cup in front of her, taking a seat across.

As she took a tentative sip, she watched as the man quickly got ready, a piece of parchment with a quill floating at the ready. She also noticed his own notebook, a much smaller quill in hand. After a minute, he was the one this time to clear his throat.

"Alright," his voice was gruff as he readjusted himself in his chair, his mind slipping back into his time as an Auror. "Your name please." His eyes trained on hers carefully, the quill beside him scratching down his words.

"Aia. Aia Shizuku." Her voice still quivered from nerves, her hands unable to keep the tea cup still. After a minute, the woman took a deep breath, nodding to the man.

"Alright… Aia." He tried his best to give her a curt smile, coming across just as uncomfortable as her. 'Damn it has been a while'. "Let us start at the beginning then. How close were you to Miss Arkanos while you trained together?"

"Well, we were quite close." Taking another sip of tea, she set the cup down, finding some kind of confidence. "We were usually training partners. Most of our time here was spent together. We both stayed in the provided dorms here so you could say we were roommates." He could see a twitch of a smile forming. "I remember she could be quite the snarky woman at times."

Aesop did not realise he was chuckling at the comment until he noticed Aia's quizzical stare, clearing his throat. "Apologise." He scribbled down some of his own notes before addressing the woman again. "So I assume being training partners and living together, you two would talk a lot?"

Aia nodded enthusiastically. "She was always very easy to talk to, had a way of really listening to what you say. When we had met I had mentioned how nervous I was since I had only been in this country for a few weeks."

"Where have you travelled here from?"

"My father and I moved here from Japan. After I had graduated Mahoutokoro, my father had been offered a job here at the Ministry. He recommended I work as an Auror." Aesop had to do everything to not hide the look of displeasure on his face, instead keeping it down to look at his notes. "When I had brought it up to her, she told me about a close friend she had from Hogwarts who had previously gone to Uagadou."

Hearing that, Aesop sat straighter in his chair. "Has Miss Arkanos mentioned any of her other previous friendships to you?"

"Yes sir. She always went on about stories about them. There had been one who always found ways to blow things up in potions. Another she had mentioned was one of the greatest quidditch players she had ever seen. There was one she was particularly close with, received owls from him every day. Something… Gaunt?"

For a moment, Aesop could feel his face burn and stomach tighten at her words mentioning her relationship with Ominis. Even he had to admit they were particularly close to one another, especially after her fifth year. Those two, including Sallow, the three were attached at the hip. "Did she ever share what those notes entailed?"

Aia paused for a moment, lips pursed as she toyed with the teacup. "There was one she had mentioned… something about visiting a friend who had lost his sister… he was taking it really hard." Aia looked up to Aesop, the look of sadness in her eyes quite obvious. "She told me she lost someone too, that if it wasn't for someone she knew at Hogwarts, including her friends, that she would probably be really lost."

His chest tightened again, a lump growing in his throat that he fought to swallow down. Fingers hesitated on the parchment beneath him. Aesop knew what a loss like that could do to any person, how they could change. He knew Lenore took Eleazar's loss hard, but to see her grow and flourish, Aesop knew the old man would be proud. But loss never leaves a person, he could attest to that personally.

-

May 31, 1891

The weather was not helping the mood of the castle, the claps of thunder mixing with the stressed sighs and remarks from students trying to study as much as possible for the oncoming exams. In these moments, the library would be flooded with all kinds of students, all at different stages of panic in their studies. Aesop was never one to turn away a student from extra curricular activities, yet this year it seemed everyone was particularly struggling to find the right headspace to learn after what had happened. With classes having been paused for two weeks, everyone was playing catch up.

The library was trickling out the last few students for the evening, Aesop deciding to make his way back to the potions room to collect some papers to go over for the night. The halls were almost deserted, save for the few stragglers coming in from the storm. As Aesop turned the corner to the potions room, he noticed something that didn't seem right. A trail of water had been leading to the classroom itself. Aesop remembered he had mentioned his classroom being closed as he was to help study hall, so as he rounded the corner, he was shocked to believe the witch that sat in the class.

Lenore was soaked to the bone, shivering in front of the fire. Her eyes seemed distant, almost devoid of any emotion, yet the red puffy skin around her eyes was a close give away that it was not the case. She did not notice that he had approached her until he was nearly beside her. Lenore could not help but jump.

"I-I am so sorry, Professor! I did not mean to intrude, your door was unlocked and I had come to ask for something but clearly you're busy and-"

Aesop had not seen Lenore like this before. Usually she was entirely composed, to a care-free degree. She may have not been Amit, but she was one of the star students of the class, almost being here obsessively. It had been on his mind why a student would need so many wiggenweld and enduras potions, but he never really thought to ask.

Before he could cut in, Lenore looked into his eyes for a moment before completely breaking down, sobs wracking her body as they bounced off of the walls. Aesop had never really dealt with emotions like this, from students or adults. He was not particularly a graceful person when it came to feelings, but he knew that after what she had been through, what he himself had seen personally, it must have been a regular occurrence as of late.

Without speaking he gently led her by the shoulders to his desk, flicking his wand to close and lock the door to the class, knowing that she probably needed privacy in such a state. He pulled up a chair for her, quickly going to his office to retrieve a few items.

Lenore felt nothing short of embarrassed. This isn't what she wanted to happen, to have him see her like this. She did not want anyone to see her so broken. They were all feeling grief from the loss of Professor Fig, they had known him for so much longer, had those bonds with him. But, seeing the man she came to respect as a mentor, a teacher, a friend, die before her. The thought made another sob break from her chest. Lenore did not even notice the blanket being wrapped around her as Aesop returned, placing a cup of something in front of her. The smell wafted around her, sobs now morphing into soft cries.

Aesop knelt down beside her, trying his best to ignore the shooting pain in his leg as his hand softly fell on her shoulder.

"Miss Arkanos… deep breath."

It seemed to somehow break through her cloud of grief, Lenore looking at him as slowly, following Aesop, she breathed in and out, feeling her mind and body slowly relax. After a few minutes, she finally felt brave enough to take a sip of tea, eyes going wide.

"Like it?" Aesop chuckled, feeling confident enough to sit beside her in his chair. "Earl Grey, my personal stash. Brought it with me from home." He could see the worry in her eyes as she began to set down the cup. "No, no, drink." He watched her take another sip, the aroma clearly relaxing her shoulders.

"Thank you… for this." Her voice was meek, a frown pulling at the corners of Aesop's mouth. It didn't suit the confident witch he knew from class.

"No need to thank me. Contrary to popular belief, I'm not always the stern, gruff potions master they say I am." She noticed the slight smirk on his face, taking his own sip of tea. It put her at ease a little. Wiping her face, she let out a shuddering sigh.

They both sat there in silence for a few minutes, the only sound coming from the crackling fire in the classroom and the occasional sip. Aesop took the moment to assess Lenore. Immediately, he noticed how she had not been sleeping, dark bags lining her eyes, eyes that were quite red and bloodshot. Her hair, usually somewhat well kept, if not for the stray leaf or branch, now sat as a mess on her head, clearly unbrushed. It was a familiar image to him, one that brought him back to his own time of personal grieving. For Emrick, for the life he had before. Never would he want anyone to experience that loss, that pain, that complete emptiness in their chest. But seeing it happen before him, he could feel his own wounds want to open.

"How did you do it?"

Her voice ripped him out of his thoughts, Aesop meeting her stare. He could see the tears beginning to form again as she sunk into the blanket. Lenore must have been tipped off at his confusion, as she sat herself up a little more.

"When… when you lost your partner… how did you get over it?" Her voice wavered, trying to take another deep breath to calm herself.

Aesop sat back for a moment, a fist to his mouth in thought. He could feel all the memories and emotions slowly come back, ones that had taken years for him to come to terms with and overcome. He knew, in this situation, he had the advantage of age and time. Nobody can prepare you for losing a loved one, to say Aesop was prepared was a vast understatement. But he was at an age where he could understand his emotions, the risks of his line of work.

The hardest part for him was not accepting the loss of a friend, it was accepting the responsibility that if it wasn't for him insisting they go to that boat, his partner would still be alive.

"I didn't."

Lenore looked up from the cup he was holding, eyes wide with confusion and shock. Aesop took a deep breath, leaning towards her.

"I won't lie to you Miss Arkanos, I still live with what has happened to this day. I don't think there will ever be a day where I.. get over it." Moving his chair a little closer, he leaned down to be at eye level. "But what I have done is learn to live with what has happened. To grow from it, and continue on, for them. Professor Fig was a brilliant man, and with the knowledge of how he cared for you, it would be safe to assume that he would want you to grow, to learn, and use it as a strength. You will always have his memories with you, his lessons and advice. Keep those close to you." He felt a lump growing in his throat, trying to swallow it down. "It is okay to grieve. Just know one day, you will know it is time to continue forward, for yourself, because you know they would want you to. With them in your heart."

Lenore sat there in silence for a moment, just staring at the man dumbfounded. She had heard so much about Professor Sharp, seen it with her own eyes. He was not one to open himself like this. She did see him express pride and happiness, but this, it felt so…. Tender. So real.

"Thank you…" she whispered, tears falling down her red cheeks as she took a deep breath in, making a small smile appear on her face.

"Also… I'll let you in on a secret that will make you feel a little better." Procuring a piece of paper, he scribbled something down, his writing obscured by the empty vials on his desk. When he handed her the paper, she noticed it was directions, with a password written beneath. "A special bathroom for Prefects. They like to keep it locked but that password should get you through. I feel some time in there might make you feel a little.. better."

Lenore could not help but give him a large smile, the first he had seen from her in weeks. "Thank you… for everything." After finishing her tea she was ready to get up and leave, eager to bathe and make herself feel somewhat human again. But as she was leaving, she felt him touch her shoulder again, placing a small vial in her hand.

"This should help you sleep as well. Just need to put a drop of it in whatever beverage you fancy before bed. And Miss Arkanos," his hand fell from her shoulder, his eyes sweet and tender. "If you ever need to discuss anything at all, or just need to brew potions as a distraction, my office is open to you." He was the one now to turn and leave, but something she said before walking out made him stop in his tracks.

"Professor Sharp… call me Lenore"

-

"So, Miss Shizuku, what can you tell about any of the events leading up to the incident between Miss Arkanos and Mister Rosier?" Aesop hadn't realised he had been silent, Aia snapping him back to reality with a cough.

"Well… honestly… it all seemed okay until Rosier came to the academy." He could see Aia tensing at the question, her fingers picking at each other nervously. "All of us thought the situation was pretty strange in itself."

"May I ask what situation?"

"Well, from what I know, it is extremely unlikely for someone to begin training as an Auror halfway through the first year, or any year for that matter." Aesop immediately sat up straight, a little taken aback.

"You mean, Rosier never started the academy with you?" He was baffled at the statement. Not once, through his time as an Auror, has anyone ever come into training halfway. Nobody would allow such a thing.

Aia nodded in response. "Some had asked the instructor, it seemed very strange. He had said it was a favour for the Minister." The picking continued. Aesop motioned for her to continue. "When he had started training with us, he had zeroed in on Lenore instantly. He demanded to spar with her every chance he got, he would always try to follow us, shouting insults to try and provoke a response." Aesop could feel anger boiling in his chest, the thought of her being cornered like that making his fist clench.

"Lenore was immediately paranoid of him. She had kept telling me she knew him from somewhere, that he had been following her." Aia took a moment to look around the room, then leaned in close. "I…. If I tell you something… can you promise you won't get me in trouble?" He could see the worry and fear in her eyes. This entire time, all other students had kept tight-lipped and silent, so he could only imagine the risk she was taking with this information. He nodded to her in response, a slight bit of tension leaving her.

"We… we snuck into the records office. She needed to know if she was right… and…"

"And?"

"There was nothing.." her voice was barely above a whisper. "No records, paperwork. Nothing." Aia swallowed, looking around again. "The day after… was when everything happened. She was terrified that something was going to happen. That he would hurt someone. I never expected her.."

Aesop leaned back in his chair, letting out a breath. "I understand. After what had happened… have you ever seen her again?"

"No, when she ran away, nobody saw her again until the attacks happened. I just… I can't believe it… I thought I knew her." Aia's voice wavered, Aesop noticing the tears in her eyes. He passed her a box of tissues, waiting for her to compose herself. Looking over his notes, he felt now there were far more questions than answers, frustration and uncertainty growing.

"I want to thank you for your time Miss Shizuku. I assure you that our conversation will be kept private. But I need to know if there is anything else you can tell me, anything that could help lead me to her." He was leaning in on his arms, his eyes showing a small hint of desperation to the woman across. For a moment he watched her think, staring down at her hands before looking back.

"Before what happened, she had let me know she was scared for the people she cared for… that she wanted to make sure they stayed safe. Mister Sharp… I know Lilium.. I know she isn't a killer but…" Aesop held up his hand, not wanting her to break down.

"Miss Shizuku… I promise that I will make sure she is found safely. I will find out what is going on. If anything else comes up, please let me know immediately." Aia nodded, and after a few minutes he watched her leave the office, taking a moment to look back to him with a worried expression.

Aesop felt this had started taking a step forward, now feeling like he had taken three steps back. How did she know Rosier? What did he know about her? The biggest question still on his mind still stared straight back at him, trying her best not to smile. Beside her, sat the names of all the students he remembered seeing her being her closest friends.

What did they know?

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More Amit works ❤️

WIP-

So im working on this HL fic an its definitely still very much a work in progress but honestly i've been struggling with motivation with it.

The idea behind it is suppose to be a chapter(or maybe a couple chapters) of Amit's future memoir, and it's all about the new F!MC 5th year through his view. I personally haven't seen anyone else do it like this, and it's been on my mind since I first played Hogwarts Legacy.

Im hoping posting just a snip of it will push me into the motivation i need. This is just the potions class part the writing so I hope you all enjoy. I'd love any feedback you can give <3

p.s. Forgive my writing, I literally haven't writen anything in years

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The days went on, and I didn’t see much of the new 5th year other than classes. However, the talk about her never seemed to stop. From helping classmates with miscellaneous tasks around Hogwarts, fighting trolls in Hogsmeade to even rumours about the dark wizards called Ashwinders looking for her, she appeared to get more mysterious than ever. While allegedly everyone knew her, nobody seemed to know her. Nobody knew about where she came from before Hogwarts, nothing about her family, no one could even tell you what she liked to eat since she appeared to never be seen in the great hall during designated meal times. The only thing people insisted they knew is she took to spending time with Sebastian or Natsai, but getting information from those two was as impossible as taming a graphorn. I was beginning to assume that having a conversation with her was never going to happen, until that fateful potions class.

I remember this potion class like the day I first discovered my parents' Gobbledegook notes. We were tasked to make the perfect wiggenweld potion. Professor Sharp had called on me to explain why it’s a handy potion to have on hand. A simple question really, a first year should even be able to answer it. However, if you find yourself reading this and don’t know, wiggenweld is used to sterilize and even heal a variety of injuries but not all injuries so don’t rely on it as a cure all. With Professor Sharp's nod of approval and points awarded to the Ravenclaw house for my answer, we began to brew our potions. 

The new 5th year was stationed on the other side of the room, just being in the same room as her was making me anxious. How was I supposed to approach a person who has built such a strong reputation in just the few days they’ve been here? As much as I wanted to ask her every question that I could possibly think of, I decided to observe them between the steps of making my own potion. It was probably the safer option to not get too close to someone who supposedly had ashwinders on their trail. After all, it took almost all summer to convince my parents Hogwarts was safe to attend even if there were rumours about a goblin rebellion happening. 

I’m not really sure what I was expecting when it came to their potion making. After their show in Defence Against the Dark Arts, I was positive there would be a magnificent spectacle awaiting in this class, but there wasn’t. There was no flair when crushing Dittany leaves, no throwing all the ingredients into the cauldron at once, no massive explosion when adding the horklump juice, just normal uneventful potion making. If it weren’t for all the rumours you’d think she was just your normal everyday Hogwarts student. 

Soon enough Professor Sharp got up from his desk to check on each student, making sure they were following instructions carefully. He made his way to the new 5th year first, assuming he was skeptical of them succeeding on making a flawless potion their first try. But as Sharp had approached their station, she had turned to face him holding a perfectly green potion in a vial. With all the commotion of the classroom it was hard to hear what the Professor was saying to her but I managed to makeout something about ‘recent exploits’.  I could only imagine what he was referring to but the rumours don’t make it that hard. She gave Professor Sharp a nod before heading towards his office door only to be stopped by the lively red headed gryffindor, Garreth Weasley. 

It was easy to tell when Garreth was planning to make whatever concoction his mind made up that day. He would have this specific gleam in his eyes, with a mischievous grin to match. When he made that face you knew an explosion of some kind would surely follow. This time they both were closer to me so I could hear them. Garreth double checked to make sure Professor Sharp wasn’t listening before asking her to collect a fwooper feather among the ingredients for her edurus potion she was tasked to make. She seemed hesitant, not wanting to get on Sharps bad side to which I don't blame her for not wanting to cross an ex-auror. However, Garreth persisted to which she reluctantly agreed too. Her expression showed uncertainty compared to Garreth's beaming smile of success as the two parted ways.

Hearing Professor Sharp’s office door close behind me, I returned to finishing up my own potion. The colour finally being the perfect shade of green, I slowly began to pour it in the empty vial. Before turning in my now completed wiggenweld potion, I went over the steps in my notes just to triple check I followed each step correctly. I was so engrossed with my notes I didn’t notice the set of footsteps walking towards my direction. 

“I was impressed you were able to answer Professor Sharp's question about the wiggenweld potion.”  The unfamiliar voice had startled me out of my thoughts and quickly turned around to only be met with a friendly smile and a small wave. It was her. Up close she didn’t appear very intimidating, she just seemed like a normal 5th year as excited to learn as any other of our peers. Her eyes however, seemed to have this fire shining bright with determination. 

I gathered myself quickly to introduce myself so as to not be rude. While I had reservations about her with all the rumours and hobbies she seems to have, she was actually quite pleasant. I took this opportunity to complement her flawless effort on her wiggenweld, she really did seem to have a knack for potion making. My nerves were getting the best of me, I simply kept rambling on but she didn’t seem to mind, smiling and nodding to the almost nonsense spewing out of my mouth. Our conversation wasn’t a long one, we parted ways with the knowledge that we would be sharing Astronomy class together. A class I was always excited to attend.

As she headed in the direction of her potion station she almost seemed to hesitate before heading towards Garreth instead. She appeared to be reluctant to hand over the bright pink fwooper feather to the very eager Weasley who gladly took it from her before she could change her mind. If only she knew what she had got herself into. 

She was in the process of making her edurus potion when the show began. As no surprise to anyone but the new 5th year, Garreth’s concoction started to spark like fireworks before quickly bubbling over, splashing all over himself and neighboring stations. Annoyed groans had come from Sebastain and Natsai who were the unfortunate victims to the putrid concoction. With a clearly frustrated sigh from Sharp and points taken from Gryffindor he had called for whoever Weasleys accomplice was to answer to him as well, looking towards the new 5th year who was bottling up her potion doing everything to avoid Professor Sharp's piercing gaze. 

When she finally couldn't avoid his gaze forever, she made her way towards his desk in the front of the room. I couldn’t tell if Sharp was more annoyed or disappointed in how she chose to spend her class time. Usually actions like this resulted in detention or house points taken away at the very least, not this time. Maybe because it was her first offence with him or maybe it was because she gave a genuine apology about her actions, who knows. Professor Sharp seemed to be just as impressed with her work as everyone else was. With a final warning to her about ‘not a potions master quite yet,’ he dismissed the rest of class. Almost instantly she turned on her heels to apologize to her unfortunate foul smelling friends for the mess she caused them before bolting out the door claiming she had somewhere to be.