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aesopsharpmybeloved · 1 year ago

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Advanced Studies in Love

A direct sequel to Teaching Love.

Professor Sharp and his young lover make the most of their little weekend getaway. She may be inexperienced, but more than makes up for it with her enthusiasm. Perhaps slightly too much enthusiasm...

A huge thanks to my brilliant consultant and friend @tea-withjamandbread who is the author of the brilliant line at the very end, and also Maarty for her continuous support ❤

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN

[FULL PCITURE]

Advanced Studies in Love (11.8k words)

tw: teacher-student relationship, age gap (reader is an adult), explicit sexual content, oral sex, vaginal sex, attempts at humour, dirty talking

“I think that’s enough - we needn’t pick the entire forest, dear,” came the potions master’s baritone from right behind you. You weren’t startled to hear and feel him so close to you so suddenly, however. You were hyper aware of his body and his proximity to your own ever since the two of you awoke, your limbs tangled and bodies still humming with the pleasure you shared the previous night.

Aesop took the two of you away from the school for the weekend, so that you’d be able to be entirely alone, free to enjoy the comfort of each other’s arms without having to worry about anyone coming to disturb you. And disturbed you were not - the only sound in the bedroom of the quaint cottage was the gentle rapping of raindrops against the window, as well as the combined sounds of your arousal. Hands mapped out and explored the newly uncovered body parts, lips and tongues tasted at the other’s perspiration. Aesop broke you apart, and then proceeded to put you back together until you were reduced into a gasping, moaning mess.

And when he took you for the first very time, you immediately grew addicted to having him this close, to be so intimately connected with him in a perfect fit. Even now, as your hands were getting progressively fuller and fuller with ingredients the teacher told you to gather, you bit down on your lower lip in memory of what it was like, to have him fill you up so entirely. His body atop yours, hot and heavy, and smelling so good. Each small little shift he made in his position you could feel tenfold, your core quivering around the large, throbbing intruder. His hot breath against your breast and nipple as he panted at the sensations your tightness gave him. And once the pain and discomfort passed, all that remained was him, the pleasure he bestowed upon you, and the love that crackled and burned around you.

The memory of the drag of his pubic bone across your sensitive nub when he started to thrust within you, and the jolt of white-hot pleasure that sent a tornado of sensations through your whole self made your thighs press together unconsciously, and you knew your face was red as a beet as you let your mind indulge in the recent memories, your hands busy with properly harvesting the flowers and herbs.

You wanted more. You needed more. As much as he was willing to give you. And in return, you were ready to give yourself to him entirely - after all, there was no safer pair of arms within which you could be.

“Hm, look at you,” his voice dropped until it was nothing more than a mere rumble, his breath tickling your ear. How were you ever able to focus in his class, when such four simple words spoken in his voice made your knees nearly buckle right under you. “I ought to mention to professor Garlick just how efficient you are at harvesting plants - I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do so this quickly… It’s almost like you want us to finish up as soon as possible.”

You were frozen on the spot, your eyes closed, body tense, face hot and red, even as he pulled away with a chuckle, seeming as cool and unbothered as he was five minutes ago. “Think we should perhaps gather some aconite as well while we’re here - exams are nearing, students will come to beg Nurse Blainey for Wideye potions…” he continued as if he just didn’t make your heart beat the speed of a racing dragon.

“Half a satchel should suffice, I’ve got some more in my stores… Sweetheart?” he finally looked at you more closely. His face getting a bit worried, he came forward and closer to you once more, his limp somehow seeming less severe than it was the previous day. A large hand made contact with your cheek gently, and he pulled your face up to be able to look at you. The realisation in his eyes made your own flutter. It must’ve been completely obvious to him; your face flushed, pupils dilated, heartbeat elevated and easily feelable through his fingertips.

“Merlin’s beard,” he breathed out, his voice a mix of amazement, appreciation and something that sounded like a hint of… smugness? The potions master took a deep breath even as a small smirk played upon his mouth. Your gaze dropped towards his lips, slightly chapped and thin, but you knew better. These were the lips of a man who knew exactly what to do with them and how, and a fresh wave of hotness rushed into your face and through your body.

His large, strong hands proceeded to take hold of your hips, kneading the flesh on them rather roughly, and prompting a small gasp to leave your lips. “No way,” he spoke again, amazement still palpable with his tone, but his mouth spread wider, the look in his eyes got darker. Suddenly, he turned quickly, still holding your hips in a vice grip. Your back made sudden (but not very hard) contact with the bark of a tree trunk, and not a second later was his strong body pressing you further against the wood. Your knees shook and threatened to give out.

A pair of hot lips chased your own down in a heated, fervent kiss, one that you hungrily reciprocated. Or tried your best to, at least. A clever tongue invaded your mouth and you felt yourself getting drunk on Aesop’s taste. Your fingers tangled in his hair and you moaned into the kiss, prompting him to pull back somewhat, before diving back in. After several minutes of fervent assault on your mouth that left you gasping for air, his kisses got sweeter, softer, less frantic, until they stopped altogether, and he simply remained in your personal space, his nose brushing against your own, your hot breaths mingling, and cool the saliva glistening on your lips.

Aesop smiled once more, the smugness replaced by amazement again: “Bloody hell,” he whispered, “I can’t even remember the last time I was able to… Get such a reaction out of a woman with just my words…”

His voice was calm and sweet, but you could hear the hint of hunger inside it. But even if you hadn’t, it was so very obvious in his eyes. He craved you as much as you craved him, maybe even more. How was he able to restrain himself, when you weren’t certain you would be able to say ‘no’ if he wanted to take you right now against this very tree, was beyond you…

His lips teased at your ear, and tongue danced across your jaw in a slow, sensual massage, and you felt about ready to drop dead… Or be dropped on the ground and ravished.

And then…

The sensations were gone. Instead his hands gently cupped your cheeks, and he gave you a small peck upon your open mouth. The potions master grinned: “Why don’t you fetch some of that aconite we saw earlier by that little meadow and meet me back here. Shouldn’t take you more than ten minutes. Then we’ll be off.”

What.

He pulled back, the look on his face completely innocent as if he had not just made your brain shut down completely. “Off you go,” he prompted you to walk with a small swat across your buttocks, still looking perfectly proper and unbothered, but a single look down made you realise he wasn’t quite that unbothered. Smirking at him through the intense blush on your cheeks, you began walking in the direction he told you to, making sure to sway your hips ever so slightly more. “Remember to wear your gloves, I only brought so much antidote to common poisons,” he called behind you, him raising his voice like so further letting you know he was everything but unaffected by the several few minutes you shared.

You weren’t sure what exactly was his plan. Was he just teasing you, enjoying the power he suddenly had over you? Or did he find himself just as ravenous to continue your yesterday’s activities as yourself?

Nevertheless, you made quick work of the monkshood, making sure to pull the herbs out of the ground carefully so as to be able to get as much of the root as possible, and storing it in a new pocket of the magically enlarged satchel you were hauling around. You weren’t surprised to soon feel eyes on you, and therefore didn’t jump when Aesop cleared his throat shortly before speaking: “We’ve gathered a fair amount of ingredients today, more than I originally presumed we would. Therefore I think we can consider ourselves done for the day”

You turned to face him again. And your mouth opened in mild surprise. In one of Aesop’s hands was a small bouquet of wildflowers, ones he did not tell you to collect earlier. Though, judging by the way he presented them, you supposed there were no potions ingredients. You came closer, looking at him through your lashes with a smile. “What’s the occasion?” you questioned, taking hold of the offered bouquet. The teacher grinned: “I’m courting a beautiful young lady - flowers are an inseparable part of it. Although, well, considering our situation, I’m afraid this one is very very much overdue…” You chuckled in response.

“Come,” Aesop said then, voice quiet and so very alluring. His hand was extended towards you, and you wasted no time in pulling off your dragonhide gloves to be able to side-apparate with him.

After you got your bearings following the still slightly dizzying experience, you were flabbergasted to find yourself not back inside the small cottage but rather at… well, you did not know where exactly it was you currently were. “Uh, Aesop?” you asked, looking at him. The professor chuckled noiselessly: “What? I did tell you we were getting lunch in the small pub nearby. As much as I adore the stew we’ve got back in, eating only one meal all the time gets incredibly tiresome.”

You had to admit he was right in this regard. However, you were way more than a little excited to resume what you started in that meadow, making a little mental list of horizontal and vertical surfaces present in the cottage that might work for your intentions. “Oh,” you replied, “I thought… well…” His eyes connected with yours, knowing and mischievous at the same time: “Patience, my dear. You had a few nice ideas in the morning, and I had some as well, and we’ll be free to indulge in them in just a little bit. But now we need to eat, no point in dropping like flies due to exhaustion and malnutrition because we weren’t able to control ourselves… Besides, I have not cast a cooling charm on my poor trousers earlier just to now completely abandon the idea of having a nice lunch with you.”

You couldn’t help but grin at the thought of him having to cool down after your fiery interaction. He began leading you down a small path, and you soon heard the sound of people chattering and laughing. A small pub appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, nestled cosily among the trees. A couple of horses were whinnying nearby, standing some way in front of you on a dirt road and secured to a cart, out of which a gentleman was currently taking out a wooden crate to most likely deposit inside the pub.

“You two,” an older woman called at you from where she was standing by the door, “have you come to eat?” “That we have,” confirmed Aesop next to you, already leading you towards one of the nearby outside tables. The woman came closer, her hands behind her back. “Before we order,” said the potions master as you sat down onto the bench before the table, “would you please have a vase to lend us for a bit?” —

While Aesop busied himself sorting out the ingredients you collected earlier (“Trust me, while I’d love nothing more than throwing you on that bed right now, if these are not sorted and stored correctly, they’ll be rendered pretty much useless by the time we get back to the castle - professor Weasley knows I don’t make storing mistakes…”, he said), you took in the room once more. Such a curious place - not two things fit together, and it wasn’t exactly tidy, but it held an aura of peace, of comfort. And after yesterday (and hopefully today, and perhaps a bit tomorrow too), you knew you’d always regard this place with a special kind of affection. A place of love and passion, of discoveries, of tenderness. Your eyes once more caught the sight of the tub you noticed under one of the tables yesterday, and you remembered the plan Aesop proposed in the morning. Using your wand, you summoned the tub slowly into the middle of the room, making Aesop look up shortly from his work, which he laid on a desk on the other side of the room (after properly dusting it), shortly, raising an eyebrow. “What?” you grinned at him, “you were the one who proposed a bath. Although…” The tub looked spacious to you the day before, but now as you stood right in front of it, your eyes switching between the object and the tall man by the table, it no longer seemed that big.

“Although I’m not sure just how the two of us will fit in together.” “I’m certain we’ll manage,” Aesop replied with a furtive little smile, “why don’t you climb in, I’ll be done here soon.” And so you started slowly undressing, peeling your layers away and mindfully folding each article of clothing on one of the dressers. You felt his hungry eyes on you the entire time, and while your cheeks kept getting warmer and warmer, you didn’t acknowledge his gaze and instead focused on giving him a nice show, very slowly pulling your blouse over your head, giving him the perfect view of your chemise clinging to your form when you raised your arms.The rustling of him carefully putting away all of the gathered herbs and fungi got quieter and quieter, until it stopped when even the chemise was taken off and you were once more left in all of your naked glory, your body still bearing some signs of your passionate lovemaking yesterday. Your shoulder, in particular, held a perfect imprint of his teeth.

The tub was soon filled with water from your Aguamenti, and you proceeded to warm the water up with a heating charm. Of course, you had to make sure the temperature was perfect, so you were leaning against the tub with one hand in the water, arching your back ever so slightly and providing the professor who happened to stand directly behind you with a rather shameless display.

Finally, you turned to look at him, finding him gripping onto the edge of the desk, eyes dark and almost predatory, jaw hard-set. It was very obvious he was trying to stop himself from outright tackling you on the floor and showing you what you get for your teasing. “I think the temperature is perfect like this, but we can cool it down later if it’s too hot for you,” you chirped innocently, and began climbing into the tub. Slowly you let your body get used to the warm water, lowering yourself into a sitting position inch by inch. You sighed deeply once you were completely submerged, the water lapping sweetly at your shoulders.

“You, my darling,” Aesop spoke, his voice low with arousal, “are an impudent tease…” Yet he seemed a bit calmer now that your body was slightly more hidden from his eyes. Your only reply was a small grin.

You felt content to just lie back and relax for a bit - you wouldn’t admit it, but you did feel ever so slightly sore, and the warmth did wonders for you. The tub felt almost as if it was shaped exactly for you. How would Aesop fit in, you didn’t know. The man in question meanwhile, now free of distractions, finished up his work and systematically put away all of the ingredients you gathered, now perfectly organised and sorted, into a small trunk. You didn’t open your eyes, which you didn’t even realise you closed, even as you heard him slowly limping to where you were reclining in the tub. There was a low huff, and soon you felt his large hand upon the top of your thigh.

You looked at him to find him kneeling on his healthy knee, his chin resting on his free hand. “Did you know that you’re incredibly beautiful like this?” he asked softly, his palm sliding over the skin of your thigh under the surface of the water. Your voice was a mere whisper, the atmosphere taking on a deeply intimate energy: “Like what?”

A smile appeared on his ruggedly handsome face, and his hand rose from the water to stroke your cheek, dampening it: “Like this - flushed from the warmth, your hair getting wet from both the water licking at your shoulders, but also the steam coming off it, happy and relaxed. Completely breathtaking.” And with that, he leaned closer in order to place an incredibly gentle kiss against your pliant lips, content to just brush your mouths against one another for a bit.

He then rose to his feet again, using both hands to brace himself and pull himself up. A slightly surprised look crossed his face shortly at how easily he managed to stand up, but he merely shook his head in dismissal before beginning to shed his own layers. It was your turn to stare, as he once more revealed himself to you, and though his body was scarred and his leg lame, in your eyes he was the epitome of masculine beauty. You unconsciously licked at your lips as he bared himself before your gaze, his shoulders broad, chest strong, lean, nicely sculpted but not overly so, and so deliciously hirsute. You never knew just how attractive you’d find body hair, but the moment you saw him fully, you knew you couldn’t (and didn’t want to) ever imagine him without it.

You reached a tentative hand out, and he stopped folding his shirt to look at you. Putting the shirt away, he took one, two, three small steps over to the tub, so that you were able to touch him, and that’s exactly what you did. Droplets of water from your hand clung to the dark fur of his breast, and your fingers slowly brushed through it. The professor was breathing deeply, his eyes closed as you explored him again. You traced the shape of his muscles, drew a small circle with your thumb around his belly button, dragged your nails through the trail leading from there to his groin, prompting his breath to hitch and his lower stomach to twitch slightly. You then slid your hands over the sharp lines of his hips, before finally moving to undo his trousers and unbutton his pants.

You found him half hard already and throbbing gently, his pink glans just so peeking at you from underneath the foreskin which began to slide back with the member filling up. You sat up further to nuzzle your face into the coarse hair at his pubic bone, tongue coming out to taste the skin there. His scent was heady, heavy and musky, and you found it incredibly intoxicating.

A shudder broke through him at your ministrations, and you felt his cock throb again and stand a bit taller once more. However, just as you dipped your face lower to run your tongue over his root, both of his hands came to close around your head. You weren’t certain whether he meant to push you away, or pull you closer, and it seemed neither was he. In the end, he just held you to himself, breathing heavily, his fingers combing through your hair. You didn’t mind - far from it, actually. You revelled in his warmth, his scent, the salty taste of his skin as your tongue returned to prodding at the hairy skin of his pubic bone, and while you did want to take things further, you understood he had other ideas in mind for now.

“Soon…” he promised, breathless, “bath first…” he finally pulled your head back, and you were able to look at his face. He too was now flushed, his eyes darker than before, yet filled with tenderness: “You are driving me completely mad,” he said only before chasing your lips in a kiss once more.

He then reached for his wand which he laid upon a nearby little table while he was undressing and lightly tapped the edge of the tub. You found yourself squeaking quietly as you fell back a bit - the tub wall you were leaning against moved back, and the piece of furniture stretched itself in length and width, the water level dropping a bit. “Sorry,” he murmured with a grin, and, after ridding himself of the last articles of clothing, climbed in right behind you.

He groaned as he lowered himself into the water, pushing its level up again with his body volume. He then carefully manoeuvred you until your back was snuggly pressed into his chest, his long legs framed your own, his arms curled around your midsection, and his half-hard shaft was nestled between your bodies. “Isn’t that uncomfortable?” you asked quietly, settling into the position. The professor only chuckled behind you, the flush fit of your bodies making you feel the rumble of his chest before you heard it: “I’ve got you in my arms and I’m sitting in a deliciously hot bath - how could I ever be uncomfortable?”

You let your head fall back until the back of it made contact with his shoulder. The professor immediately used this situation to begin pressing soft open-mouthed kisses along the length of your neck, and somehow they managed to be even hotter than the water. A bar of lightly blue soap materialised out of nowhere along with a washcloth that looked to be made from silk. You saw Aesop’s hands emerge from the water to take hold of both items, and then he slowly started lathering your chest with the soap. In the fragrance of it you recognised iris and chamomile, a combination that was very pleasant on your nose.Dropping the washcloth into the water and positioning the soap on the tub’s edge, his hands started spreading the soap around the front of your body, leaving bubbles and pleasure in their wake. The large hands danced around your torso, the touch both simple innocent washing of one’s body, and also incredibly erotic, especially so when his fingers went to tease at your nipples, pebbled from his ministrations. You turned your head to sigh against the skin of his neck.

Once he deemed your torso lathered enough, he took once again hold of the now wet washcloth and started slowly running it down your soapy body. You couldn’t deny that it felt completely incredible to be cared for like so, and found yourself wanting to return the favour. You made to turn around, but Aesop’s gentle hands on your shoulders stopped you.

“I want to wash you too,” you protested softly, prompting the man to chuckle. “I’ll let you,” he promised, “but you first, my sweet. Relax…”

And so you did as you were told and let him very gently manhandle you so that he was able to finish washing your body. His skilled hands managed to loosen some kinks in your back you didn’t even realise you had. Perhaps you had them there for so long, you didn’t even realise they were there anymore. As to when they got there, well, that wasn’t a difficult question to answer.

The first year at Hogwarts left your body in near constant ache; rolling around, dodging (and failing to dodge) enemy attacks, getting banged up during the Keeper trials, and during your many run-ins with poachers, goblins, ashwinders, trolls, the bloody horrible spiders… You wept after the first trial in San Bakar’s tower, bleeding from multiple places, pretty certain you suffered a light concussion. You weren’t sure you were able to handle more. And then it became apparent you had no choice. And you stopped weeping. These days you were faster and stronger, honing your skills during Crossed Wands duels and training sessions rather than battling criminals and goblins whose number greatly diminished following Rookwood and Ranrok’s fall, but it would seem some residue pain remained.

Now however you sighed deeply as Aesop worked his fingers to relieve you of it… You wished it was this simple for his leg too…

“Lean your head back for me, please…” he successfully pulled you out of your thoughts, and without really thinking about his request, you did lean your head back. Soon a herbal scent hit your nose, and you felt coldness running down your scalp. And then those deviously clever fingers were tangled in your hair, spreading the soothingly smelling shampoo through your damp locks, prompting pleasurable gooseflesh to appear at the nape of your neck.

The professor washed you thoroughly, seemingly enjoying himself as much as you were. When he was done, you turned your head in order to capture his lips once more, your faces wet from the light steam coming from the bath. “My turn,” you whispered against his mouth before slowly turning around, mindful not to accidentally sit on his bad leg. Aesop was far less careful and immediately wrapped his arms around you again to pull you to sit almost in his lap.

Following a few more deliciously hot kisses, you looked up at him: “Will you turn around so that I can bathe you as well?” Aesop looked to be thinking about what you said for a moment before a little grin appeared on his flushed lips: “No… I rather think I like having you right here.” His large hands were squeezing the flesh of your hips, the tips of his fingers sliding to the curve of your bottom. You couldn’t help but chuckle a bit. Nevertheless you made it work: you reciprocated the attention he lavished on your body earlier, stroking his soapy back and massaging it as well as you could from your position.

You were hardly able to apply the same pressure from where you were sitting, but it seemed that Aesop didn’t mind at all. His eyes were closed and he was breathing deeply, his lips slightly opened and face as relaxed as you only saw it when he was sleeping soundly.

Your hands moved to his front then, and they dipped into the bath before resurfacing again and spreading the hot water over the teacher’s hirsute chest, enjoying the feeling of the soft hair against your fingertips. You watched, deeply fascinated, how he reacted to certain touches. His breath hitched when your thumbs rubbed against his pink nipples, and the corner of his lips twitched when your nails danced on his sides, over his ribs. When you got to his head, your mouth latched onto his neck to press soft, open-mouthed kisses there, using the fact the professor’s head was tipped back.

And afterwards you returned your hands to his chest, except lower. His lower stomach gave a twitch again once your fingers once more teased at the trail of hair running from his belly button towards his crotch. Your hand fit seamlessly around the rapidly filling shaft again, and a gasp cut through the silence of the room. Aesop’s head fell against your shoulder, and his hands stroked at your back and hips. You gently pumped him to full stiffness again, feeling yourself becoming more and more aroused at seeing his cheeks getting even more flushed, his eyebrows arching up, and his face becoming a mask of pleasure.

“Let’s get out of here…” you offered, your voice nothing but a whisper, “I want to taste you…”

Contrasting his previous restraint, Aesop now scrambled to get out of the tub, though he made sure not to maim either of you in the process. Your wand left on one of the dressers, you automatically reached for his to find it buzzing pleasantly in your hand. It wasn’t the same feeling as wielding your own wand, but Aesop’s seemed nevertheless accepting to be handled by you. Casting a quick drying charm on the two of you, you once more put the wand down. Invading Aesop’s personal space, you put your hands on his now-dry chest and pushed him backwards. The teacher seemed content to let you take the lead, his cock standing to full attention and his eyes eating up every inch of your body.

When the back of his knees hit the bed, he swiftly grabbed you by the waist and fell backwards, both of you landing on the pleasantly firm mattress with a few small huffs. Exchanging another heated kiss, your hands slid down his body, the feeling both so new still and yet so familiar already. You then moved to bestow attention upon his skin using your lips, tongue, teeth. Aesop watched with hooded eyes as you slowly made your way down, making sure to pay special attention to places you previously noticed were especially sensitive.

And then you were face level with his groin at last, the large member throbbing every now and then, a small droplet of crystal clear fluid gathering at his exposed tip. He truly was impressively sized, and you wondered whether you’d be able to fit more than a few inches into your mouth. A gentle hand stroked at your hair: “Go slow, love. No matter what you do, know that I’ll be in heaven for every second of it, but I don’t want you to choke yourself on me.

You smiled at him gratefully before giving the shaft another few gentle strokes. And then, finally, you stuck your tongue out to lick a long stripe along his underside, from the root all the way to the dark pink glans, which made Aesop release a choked gasp. As you pressed your lips against him, you savoured the fusion of sensations. Underneath the faint aroma of soap you discovered the subtle taste of his clean, warm skin, his natural scent becoming more and more apparent with each swipe of your tongue against his member, soon overpowering the smell of soap and making you feel light-headed with desire.

A gentle hand landed on your head, and he once more stroked your hair gently, neither pushing nor pulling you as you explored at your own pace. You lifted your head then to connect your eyes - his chocolate orbs were darkened and clouded over by lust, and you held their scorching look as you slowly closed your lips around his tip and rolled your tongue around it.

Aesop’s head fell back and a surprisingly loud groan left his lips: “Bloody hell, (F/N)...”

Encouraged by this, you began to suck on the tip while stroking the rest of his prick with your hand, soon finding a neat rhythm. You could feel his heartbeat in the shaft, and you heard his breathing pick up considerably. Very slowly, you started to take in more of him, bobbing your head and breathing deeply through your nose. You were aware your technique probably wasn’t very elegant - your lips were damp from your saliva and you felt like you weren’t ever going to be able to really take in more than a few inches of him, your throat protesting mildly each time you took in more. Aesop, however, seemed far, far from complaining, soft grunts escaping his open lips, and his hand tightening in your hair without pushing you still.

You were becoming slightly more confident in your ministrations. However, this would come to bite you - or rather it would come to bite your lover… “Ouch! Teeth!” Aesop yelped suddenly, his body tensing giving a violent jerk. You released him immediately and sat up, already feeling panic and guilt rising up within you.

“Blast it, I’m so sorry, Aesop!” came your panicked voice even as you hurriedly wiped at your wet mouth. Your hand came to gently grab at the organ again, trying to see what damage you caused. “Where does it hurt? Will you be alright?”

Aesop took several laboured breaths, his own hand flying down to grip at his shaft. Then however-

A chuckle broke the silence, closely followed by another, and another, and soon he was giggling quietly.

“Over a decade spent as an Auror,” he said between giggles, “many many injuries, one life threatening, and this is the first time I’ve had to worry about my knob, bloody hell!” You couldn’t help it - your own laughter joined in, and you lowered yourself next to him. “I’m sorry,” you repeated.

“You’ve nothing to apologise for,” Aesop answered once his laughter died down. His member was still hard and standing proudly and his hand curled around yours, guiding it up and down slowly. “Before the unfortunate accident, you weren’t doing half bad... I’ll be honest, you were doing really bloody good. Merlin, I- the amount of times just the mental image of you taking me in your mouth was enough to make me…”

You blushed under his words, your thighs quivering shortly as another wave of arousal flowed through you. “Shall I try again?” you asked, watching your hands working his cock leisurely. Aesop hummed: “Do you want to?”

You looked into his eyes. You did want to. You wanted to make him feel good, like he made you feel with his mouth as well… You nodded your head.

“Alright. Cover your teeth with your lips - like this. Takes a while to get right. The occasional scrape can feel fantastic, but a bitten off cock makes for a very unsatisfactory evening.”

“Oi,” you said with a light push to his chest with your free hand, “I didn’t go that hard!” “I saw my life flash before my eyes.” “You’re exaggerating!”

“A little bit. And again, the point is not to choke yourself or take what you can’t. A partner’s death of asphyxiation or dinner suddenly resurfacing on one’s privates are also not ideal outcomes.”

You chuckled incredulously. You had to admit, you adored it when he was being like this; cheeky. Humorous. You leaned in closer and gently dragged your mouth over his in a kiss, your joined hands still teasing him. “Hm… Just take it easy,” Aesop sighed, obviously enjoying himself again, the touching enough to make his eyes flutter and heart beat hard, but not enough to chase him towards his peak, “this isn’t a race, or some, I don’t know, trial. It’s just… making love. Experimenting. Exploring. Seeing what feels good for the other and enjoying ourselves. No rush, no pressure…”

You smiled at him again, using your free hand to caress his cheek before leaning down for another kiss. And then you slid down his body once more - his hand released your own on his shaft, and instead moved to gently stroke at the skin of your shoulder. Covering your teeth with your lips like he showed you, you let his glans slip into your mouth again and immediately started to suck. Slowly you returned to the rhythm you established before the little accident.

You alternated between bobbing your head up and down on the shaft, taking it as far as your gag reflex allowed, and focusing your attention on the leaking tip, your tongue sliding around it, teasing at his slit, even slipping below the foreskin bunched underneath, all the while your hand played with what you weren’t able to fit in your mouth. Experimentally, you let your other hand travel under the member to touch the heavy testicles. When you, very gently, squeezed one of them, a choked curse left Aesop’s mouth and his hand tightened on your shoulder. And to your own surprise - you moaned.

You were so busy minding your teeth, your breathing, so lost in your ardent exploration, you barely had time to notice yourself squeezing your thighs together like your life depended on it, trying to bring some semblance of a friction to your fluttering core. Without thinking, you released his length from your hand while continuing to fellate him inexpertly, in order to slip it between your legs.

Another soft moan was muffled by the hot erection as two fingers of your hand dipped between your drenched folds, soon finding their mark on your swollen lovebud and circling it like you recalled him doing the previous night. It was deliciously decadent, you decided. You felt the slightly bitter taste rolling down your throat as more precum leaked out of his cock, you were beautifully overwhelmed and completely surrounded by his smell, his taste, the only thing you heard were the sounds of his pleasure, and you worked him with your mouth and hand in the same rhythm that you were using to play with your quivering quim.

The sight of you, it would seem, was too much for Aesop. With a loud groan, he gently pried your head away, breathing fast, and you saw the large bollocks drawing up somewhat, and his cock throbbing heavily now. You unconsciously brought up your hand to wipe at your wet chin again and looked up at him with heavy eyes. “Fucking hell, (F/N),” the teacher mumbled, looking at you almost… admiringly, “you drive me mad, love.”

You were certain he could taste himself on your tongue and lips when he pulled you flush atop himself with his strong arms, snogging you in wild abandon, and the knowledge further clouded your already clouded-over mind. You wanted him, and you wanted him now, the nagging sensation in your core had long since transformed into a searing inferno, almost aching, you were desperate to connect your bodies again, to once more climb that mountain of pleasure together and take a leap into the pit of bliss below.

So, filled with anticipation and high on lust, you moved to straddle his hips, separated your mouths in order to grab on the large erection and guide it within yourself.

“Sweetheart, wait-”

Aesop’s mind cleared enough to see what your intention was and he tried to stop you. In vain.

Before he was able to firmly grasp your hips to keep you from sinking onto his length, you have already impaled yourself on it entirely. And you now knew just why he tried to stop you.

Burning pain in your most sensitive place forced a choked yelp out of your mouth and your entire body tensed. Fuck! You very nearly doubled over, your fingernails digging into Aesop's stomach.

“B-bloody hell, (F/N)!” Aesop grit out, torn between the blissful feeling of being completely enveloped by your tight (way way too tight) walls and being deeply concerned for your wellbeing, “you hurt yourself, didn't you?! Get off, come on!”

He was trying to push you off of him, though his hands lacked the strength they usually had. You did not want to get off. You were in pain, yes, you felt like you were going to split open around him, but you really did not want to call it quits. What if he didn't want to make love with you afterwards in worry of hurting you further? No, no, you didn't want to just toss the towel in like this.

“N-no…” you managed to get out, your breaths shuddery. “Don't be silly, sweetheart, get off, there's no point in hurting yourself!” Aesop attempted to reason, but you simply wouldn't budge, breathing through the ache and trying to relax around the fleshy intruder. After a few seconds spent in such silence you could've heard a pin drop, Aesop sighed.

The professor sniffed loudly through his nose, and quite awkwardly began shifting, slowly so as not to cause you too much further pain. It took several grunts from him and a few quiet mewls from you, but in the end, he managed to bend his legs at the knees and sit up on them. You cringed: this position probably wasn't doing any good to his leg. He, however, seemed more bothered about you still having your face screwed up in discomfort rather than his own pain.

A pair of comforting arms came to slowly wrap around your waist, his hands stroking the soft skin, and you let him enfold you in an embrace. The hair on the side of your head fanned slightly following his exhale: “My silly girl,” he said gently, rather than reprimanding, “did you think that just because we made love once, you no longer needed preparing, stretching?” You didn't say anything, only hid your face at the crook of his neck and swallowed audibly.

“Merlin's beard, lass…” he sighed, “you're young, fit… so bloody tight… it's going to take time before you're ready to take me in without preparation and feel no discomfort. And even then I'll always make sure that you're ready, every single time, because the last thing I want is to accidentally hurt you… Besides, I greatly enjoy pushing you over the edge with my hands and mouth…”

It was your turn to sniff, though you didn't raise your head from where it was resting: “I… couldn't wait…” Your lover clicked his tongue, his warm hands drawing nonsensical patterns over your back. “You, always so patient and meticulous in everything you do, and you throw it aside to make love with me? My sweet, if you weren't still all tensed up with pain, I would've been nearly flattered… Does it still hurt?”

Instead of answering, you nodded your head, your arms thrown around his shoulders loosely.

Suddenly, his warm lips connected with the skin of your neck, directly under your ear. Aesop began placing soft kisses and feather-light bites there, all the while still stroking your body with his hands. His coarse fingers slid from your back to your front instead, teasing at the curve of your breasts and sending ripples of excitement through you. “Try to focus on the way I'm touching you and relax… I'll make it better…”

You tried your hardest, but it was frankly difficult to focus on anything else than the discomfort. You were so stupid - of course what Aesop said made sense, why on Earth would you think that just because this was not your first time anymore, you were ready to just go at it immediately? Well, the books said the first time can be painful, but they did not mention the second time, so that at least played in the favour of your wit. Still, you should have been smarter.

“Shhh…” Aesop breathed into your ear, his hot breath on your sensitive earlobe causing you to shiver slightly, “stop thinking. Focus on my hands, on my mouth… “ You gave a nod and indeed tried your best to fully cling to the feeling of his large hands stroking your breasts, weighing them, giving them a little squeeze, before thumbing at your nipples, pebbled and sensitive. The amazing mouth attached to your neck, uneven teeth scraping and pinching at the skin, leaving hotness in their wake.

“You’re so beautiful,” you felt before you heard Aesop’s words as they rumbled in his chest. “You’ve no idea how much I imagined this. Imagined you. Not only in this position, but so, so many others. You’ve been driving me completely insane with craving for your touch.” His words were quiet, almost too quiet for you to hear, but you did your best to strain your ears to hear them. Because they worked. You were no longer so focused on your ache, and you wanted to hear more, wanted him to keep talking to you in that completely delicious voice of his that made you weak in the knees. Despite the discomfort, hearing him say he imagined making love to you in many positions made your walls flutter and flex around him, as well as further dampen with lust.

“H-how did you imagine me?,” you whispered back. An unexpected moan left your lips as a clever hand made its way between your bodies and slid to your core, curious fingers teasing at your seam which was so snuggly wrapped around the large member before coming up to gently prod and rub at your clit.

Aesop hummed, his fingers now fully circling the lovebud: “As I said - in all kinds of positions. I imagined taking you in my classroom many times - bent over my desk, leaving scratches on the wood with your nails. You sitting upon your potions station with my head between your thighs. Your back pressed against the cold stony walls of the dungeons…” With each new little fantasy Aesop shared, you felt the pain and discomfort lessening, and your core fluttering with excitement instead. And it was obvious recalling the things he imagined doing to you had the same effect on him from the throbbing of his erection.

“I imagined you sitting on my face and riding it while sucking on my cock at the same time… And hiding beneath the table, kneeling between my legs while I teach… However, that truly is only a dirty fantasy.” he chuckled softly. You weren’t able to chuckle, the deep blush on your face, the sensations of his hands, and his filthy thoughts voiced aloud making you rather unable to properly focus on anything else. And yet, you opened your (way too dry) mouth to speak: “A-and…. And everything e-else?”

“Everything else and more, my sweetest, I fully intend to bring into reality,” And with that he bucked his hips, forcing a choked moan from somewhere at the back of your throat.

“Mhm! How was that?” the teacher asked, pleasure dripping from his voice like molten lava, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave bruises. Slowly, you caught your breath, your brain fogged from the strong sensations coursing through your body. And soon you realised that pain and discomfort wasn’t among them. You felt impossibly full, like the night before, but otherwise the feeling of your walls stretched around his cock, big and hard, and the throbbing of your core and clit were making you crave more, more of that sweet feeling. Aesop’s hand gently stroked your heated cheek, thumb coming down to trace your opened lips: “Sweetheart?”

“It’s…” you took a breath, “it’s alright… No more pain.” Aesop smiled, and leaned in for a gentle kiss. “How do you want me? Shall I take it from here, or do you want to proceed with your original plan?” he inquired, the words hotly whispered against your mouth. You thought for a moment - Aesop obviously knew best what to do, how to make both of you feel good… But then again, you wanted to learn it too, how to make your steamy union as good for each other as you possibly could… Finally, you kissed him back before lightly pushing on his chest, motioning for him to lie down on his back again.

He lowered his upper body once more, looking up at you devotedly: “If at any point it becomes too much, if you get tired, or want to stop entirely, please tell me. You’ve nothing to prove, to me or anyone. This is about us, and will only be nice if both of us are comfortable…”

You gazed down at him, your heart fluttering with love - he was obviously aroused beyond reason, throbbing where he filled you, and yet all he focused on was your comfort and your pleasure. You loved him. Body and soul, in your eyes he was the most perfect man in this large, chaotic world. The love filled your chest, your heart, it was rolling through you like a tsunami, and it was this feeling that made your hands brace on his stomach, firm muscles underneath a soft layer of skin and flesh, and raise your hips only to bring them back down, impaling yourself on him once more. Unlike before, no more pain came, and instead two groans of pleasure mingled in the air as they cut through the silence of the room.

You repeated the motion a few times, each one becoming more and more familiar and pleasant. Aesop’s hands were now stroking your hips, fingers only slightly digging into your skin in time with your thrusts: “Oh, my sweet…” he sighed, his handsome face flushed and a drop of sweat glistening upon his brow, “find your rhythm, try different angles to make yourself feel good.”

Nodding slightly in agreement, you began rolling your hips in different angles, searching for that one spot Aesop found deep within you yesterday, the one that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back into your head. You could feel its presence within you, the friction making you aware of it lightly pulsing, desperately trying to guide you. In the meantime, you managed to find a pleasurable rhythm, one that made your breath draw quicker, your own fingertips digging into Aesop’s belly and the hair there. Angling your hips again, you suddenly felt like a lightning bolt struck right through you, like you were doused with a bucket of cold water, immediately followed by a bucket of hot one, and you gave a full-body shudder.

“There you are…” Aesop said, voice almost proud, “such a clever lass…”

You gave a long exhale and repeated the motion, the pleasure upon each roll of your hips making a little gasp leave your mouth, soft sounds that you weren’t able to hold in as you rode your older lover. Aesop’s hands took to wandering, and he was looking up at you in a deeply appreciative manner, obviously enjoying seeing you bouncing atop his cock like you did. The hands gently took hold of your breasts, enjoying the way they moved along with you. Calloused thumbs and fingers began rubbing and squeezing at the pink pearls, adding yet another sensation to the already bubbling and boiling mix of desire. It felt like every single place the teacher touched was connected by an invisible wire, and that all of these wires led down to your fluttering, drenched core. Aesop spread his legs somewhat, and you felt his thighs against your bottom as he braced his feet upon the mattress to be able to join you in your efforts.

“Like this, yeah?” he asked in a deep, throaty voice as he plunged his own hips against yours. You didn’t feel able to reply verbally, so instead you only tightened your fingers on his stomach and adjusted to the new speed he was gently introducing. In this new angle, while his tip was still brushing against that bundle of nerves within you, your clit was also rubbing against his pubic hair, increasing the sensation again.

“Oh by Merlin, darling… You’re so perfect like this,” he groaned, arching his neck somewhat upon a particularly deep thrust, “taking your pleasure, flushed in all the right places, so bloody tight.”

Aesop proceeded to curl one hand around the back of your neck, pulling you down and closer to him, all the while your hips continued moving together, bringing pleasure to both of you. He chased your lips for another kiss, this one not nearly as gentle as the previous ones. No, this one was heated, hungry, almost possessive. At that moment you knew that while he was sometimes still hesitant to make his claim on you, he was very much desperate to, desperate to make you his own, forever. You accepted his tongue into your mouth, and engaged it in a short battle for dominance before yielding to it, letting the teacher taste you, plunging his tongue between your lips in the same rhythm in which his hard shaft was disappearing in your quivering depths.

His mouth latched onto your neck then, biting and sucking, digits instead gripping onto your back and shoulders, not letting you move away from him. Not that you wanted to. You sped up your movements further, starting to feel that coil within your core beginning to form and grow tighter. Unlike yesterday, there were no vines of pure light and magic swirling around your bodies, but it didn’t make the experience any less intense or pleasurable. The opposite was true, actually. While you were getting quickly overwhelmed, your body preparing for an earth-shattering orgasm, you weren’t as absolutely blinded by the raging inferno of sensations like you were yesterday, and could therefore appreciate some things more…

Like the way Aesop’s breathing began to hitch, and the way his voice got ever so slightly higher when a soft moan escaped his kiss-bruised lips. The way his eyes (so, so bloody dark) began to flutter, dark eyelashes fanning against his flushed cheeks. The way his member throbbed and pulsed inside you, and the way his hips twitched, as if he was stopping himself from taking over for you. You were grateful to him, for allowing you to take control, for his restraint, for his love, for him.

“I love you,” you whimpered, your pleasure mounting higher with every passing second, your eyes boring into his, even as they grew slightly unfocused.

He could only moan in response, arms coming to wrap even tighter around your back, your bodies now pressed together, your skin, damp with perspiration, sliding against that of the other with ease.

“Come on, sweetheart,” the professor pleaded breathlessly, his face visibly contorting with pleasure as he got closer and closer, “come on, please, come for me. Come for me, my love…”

And just like that your back arched, his pleasure-laced words tipping you over the edge and plunging you into a sea of gratification. You wanted to dip your face into the crook of his neck and muffle the moans that were leaving your mouth, but Aesop wouldn’t have that - his hands closed around the sides of your head, pulling you up so that he could watch your face, your eyes, so that he could hear you. “That’s right, my sweet... Mhm! F-fuck I'm coming,” he groaned, his own hips still rocking against yours relentlessly.

And then, suddenly, he used his considerable strength to flip the two of you over. He let go of your face in order to grab your hips again, roughly so, and started penetrating you at a hard, quick pace, all the while keeping your eyes connected while he chased his own climax, your own still crashing through you. It took less than a dozen hard thrusts before his large body shuddered atop you, and you felt his hot seed spill deep within you and mix with your own release. Your still contracting walls seemed to be intent on getting every last drop of him, milking him almost, and your thighs were shaking wildly on both sides of his hips.

Finally, the wild waves of pleasure began to subside, and sweet relief replaced them, little by little. Your head lolled to the side, and your lungs burned as you took in large gulps of air. Your body was tingling with residue bliss, feather-like shivers dancing over your most sensitive areas. Aesop’s body was pressing yours into the mattress, but you were far from caring. Wetness was leaking out of your opening as your lover’s shaft began to soften and shrink a bit, and your hearts started to slow down, beating synchronously against one another’s chest.

After a few minutes, Aesop raised his head from where it landed upon your chest, and connected your lips in a positively filthy kiss, all tongues and teeth. “I love you,” he whispered against your mouth, his hands once more coming to grab on your face, thumbs rubbing against the apples of your cheeks. You only opened your eyes when he pulled back, still a little unfocused from your climax. “You were incredible…” Aesop smiled softly. You thought he looked breathtakingly beautiful in his afterglow, hair all messy and slightly damp at the roots, his face and body still slightly flushed, on his face an expression of peace and serenity, like everything apart from the two of you was completely unimportant, if not nonexistent entirely.

“Abso. Lutely. Breath. Taking,” he whispered then, punctuating his words with a series of kisses placed upon your neck and your collarbone. You felt entirely boneless, unsure of your very ability to move. Then again, that might have been because you had a rather large and heavy former Auror resting atop you. Nevertheless, you managed to lift your arms just enough to tangle your hands into his hair, messing it up further.

A few more minutes passed before Aesop, very reluctantly, unsheathed himself from within your body. You grimaced slightly, once more feeling rather empty, gaping open almost. Unlike yesterday, however, instead of rolling to the side, Aesop scooted back to sit on his heels between your still spread legs. His eyes fell to your weeping opening, and he smirked ever so slightly, his now soft shaft giving the tiniest little twitch. And though you knew it was deep appreciation and attraction with what he was observing the proof of your pleasure, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit embarrassed at the level of exposure, and unconsciously made an attempt to close your legs. Aesop, of course, noticed immediately, and, instead of putting his hands on your knees to keep them open, gave you an apologetic smile: “I’m sorry, dear - let me get my wand, I’ll clean us up.”

“S-sorry,” you called out to him, watching as he rose from the bed in all his naked glory, his limp, while still very much there, seeming less pronounced than it usually was. You couldn’t help but drink him all in. He truly was like a marble statue of some Greek god… Well, maybe except for all the fur… and the size of, well… “Don’t you dare ever apologise for letting me know you’re uncomfortable with something, or that you don’t want something. I mean that, (F/N),” Aesop replied, his expression deadly serious. Normally, this expression would be a cue for you to start listening attentively and take notes in his class. However, now it didn’t quite have the same effect, seeing as he was as nude as the day he was born.

So instead you cracked a smile. The professor couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, before sending the scouring charm on your spent bodies. He proceeded to deposit his wand onto the nightstand and once more climb onto the bed. He settled, once more, between your legs, bracing himself on his forearms next to your sides so that he did not crush you under himself again. “I really do mean that, though. If, at any point, something doesn’t feel right, you don’t feel comfortable, or you’re not alright with me doing something, please… Please, tell me immediately. I cannot stress this enough. Promise?”

You gave him a grateful smile: “A-alright. I promise. Though it’s… a little silly. One moment I’m, um, I’m on top and we’re making love, and the next I feel… embarrassed to have you look at my…”

“It’s not silly. My sweet girl,” the teacher now rolled onto his side and turned you towards him: “You’re new to all of this. Some things are within your comfort zone, and some simply aren’t. Some things will stop making you uncomfortable as you find your footing, and some things you may never be alright with. And that’s okay. It’s important we talk about things, and are honest with one another, so that both of us can feel happy and safe together. Do you understand?”

You nodded in reply, curling against his strong body and putting your hand onto his warm side.

“Is there anything you feel uncomfortable doing?” you couldn’t help but inquire curiously. “Me?” Aesop asked, a mischievous grin in his voice, “oh, absolutely not, I’m a lecherous bastard, I am.” A laugh escaped both of your mouths. “No, no, really. I am certain there are many things I wouldn’t be alright with, but that’s for the two of us to explore together. If you want to, of course.”

“I’d love to…”

You spent several minutes just holding onto one another, quite comfortable in your nakedness, your bodies warming one another and fitting, in your opinion, perfectly. Your hand coursed through the hair on his chest fascinatedly, and Aesop seemed content to just rest his eyes for a bit.

“I admire your self control…” You said after a short while, your hand leaving his chest and seeking his own that was resting upon your hip instead. The potions master didn’t waste any time and linked your fingers, squeezing your hand gently: “Don’t,” he replied quietly, “when you were bent over that tub, I was about this close to just jumping to you, grabbing your hips, and having my way with you right then…”

You shivered where you lay - the mental picture was definitely something you’d like to come back to later: “I wouldn’t have minded…”

A little guffaw broke through Aesop’s chest at your, most likely naive, words: “Now we know the situation wouldn’t have been a pleasant one for you... All in a good time,” he soothed, squeezing your hand once more and opening his eyes to look at you. “It might be a bit difficult finding time to be together when we get back to the castle, especially with NEWTs coming up, but… But I’ll do my best to be able to be with you. And not only to make love to you.”

“But we can do that, right?” you nevertheless asked, prompting another short laugh from your lover. “Try and stop me,” he said, grinning, “It’s just a few more months, and then… then we’ll have all the time in the world. No more hiding and sneaking around. Not a thousand Ashwinders or an army of Garreth Weasley’s clones intent on pinching all of the contents of my stores will be able to keep me from coming to you the moment I am able to.”

“I love you,” you breathed again, pulling him for another prolonged kiss. You were, once again, getting lost in him, in his scent, the taste of his lips, the feeling of his strong body against your smaller one. Aesop pulled back after some time, looking slightly perplexed: “I have a confession to make - what I said before - that wasn't entirely true."

You fixed him with a curious look: "Hm? What do you mean?” Aesop looked rather sheepish all of a sudden, his hand finding yours again, and fiddling with your own fingers. He looked down at it and took a deep breath: "That this was the first time I've ever had to worry about my... you know. After Scarborough, I was in so much pain I... Well, I was fairly certain I had been rendered impotent..."

You didn’t react immediately - you know how difficult it was for him to discuss Scarborough and its aftermath, so you didn’t want to deter him from confiding in you because of too much curiosity or too many uncomfortable questions, so you simply settled with: "Really?"

The professor nodded, still not meeting your eyes: "Yes... It was about... a year and a few months before I truly... felt any sort of stir, anything…” he finally raised his eyes to look at you, the look in the pensive, wistful almost. “Back then though... Back then I thought it hardly mattered anyway, because there was no way any woman would desire me ever again..."

You clicked your tongue softly, and carefully put your hand on his right cheek, experimentally almost, to see if he was comfortable with you touching his scar. You were glad when he closed his eyes again and leaned into your gentle touch. "I'm sorry…” you spoke, so softly he barely heard you, “You know I desire you greatly, right? with every single fibre of my being, scars and a wounded leg and all... but please know I would've loved you even if your suspicions turned out to be true."

Aesop’s breath hitched ever so slightly, his arms tightened around you, and he seemed to momentarily hide his face in the crook of your neck. In a voice so quiet you nearly struggled to hear he said: "I wouldn't even dare take you for myself then. I could not bear having you and not be able to satisfy you. I know all kinds of love exist, but… the erotic part of a romantic relationship is just as important as the emotional one.”

You weren’t sure you could imagine it properly. You were very happy just holding him, kissing him, being in his presence. However, it was undeniable that at some point (and you weren’t even certain whether that was before or after the two of you took the leap of faith and began your clandestine affair) you began to crave, and you craved him a lot. It was a difficult topic to both discuss and ponder, and while you were quite interested to hear more on what he had to say on the matter, you sensed that it was comfort Aesop craved now, more than anything else. Not to mention your brain was still swimming in endorphins, and it wasn’t exactly easy to fire it up again. So, settling for a lighthearted tone, you said: "As we both know by now, you do an excellent job of satisfying even without ever pulling it out of your pants,” Aesop snorted at your choice of words, “However, as we also know now, you, Aesop Sharp, are far from impotent."

"Oh, that I am..."

Another shiver broke through your body at his tone, so very different than the one before, almost like a low sort of growl.

And then his lips were claiming yours once more.

And Aesop would prove his perfectly healthy potency to you again.

—

Truth be told, you were rather sore as the two of you made your way out of the cottage. You both made sure the space was left neat and tidy (well, as neat and tidy as it was when you first came), that the sheets were clean and fresh (and they indeed were in need of washing by the time you prepared to leave), that the dishes were washed and sorted in the correct cupboards, and, of course, than no article of clothing or any collected ingredients were left behind.

You did notice that Aesop wasn’t reaching into his pockets for a dose of Wiggenweld potions for his pain as often as he normally would, which was curious. The man himself, however, didn’t seem quite this aware of it. There was a look of contentness and calm within his dark eyes, and his features looked even more relaxed than normally when it was just the two of you. Truth be told, you were quite worried that absolutely everyone would be able to know just what you were doing this weekend by just looking at your face, on which you felt a near constant smile, perhaps even a light flush.

The flowers he gifted you were safely stored in your pack under a stasis spell, so that you could display them in the Room of Requirement later.

The short journey to the front of the cottage, where there was enough space to safely apparate to Hogsmeade felt like a hike through mountains, difficult and harrowing, and yet it passed way, way too quickly. Both of you stopped in place, listening to the sounds of the forest and the wind, just sort of lost in your own heads.

“So… This is it. Holiday over,” you said, attempting to lighten the mood. Aesop hummed in reply. A few more seconds passed before you noticed him putting down the trunk of gathered ingredients and turning towards you. His hands took hold of you firmly, possessively even, and he quickly proceeded to snog the living daylights out of you.

“We’re being a little ridiculous,” he said after several minutes, breathless. You gave him a questioning look.

“We’re acting as if this was some sort of ending, even though we’re at the very beginning,” Aesop chuckled then, fingers stroking your hips through your clothes. “I intend to keep the promise I made,” the teacher continued, “I’ll do my bloody best to ensure we’re able to be together, be it for just a few minutes or days on end. We both know what would be preferable, but a dose of realism is, I think, needed in order not to be disappointed all the time.”

You had to agree with him there. The term end exams were one thing, but having to deal with NEWTs as well would surely prove to be a rather hectic experience. “I’ll do my best too,” you in turn promised. “You make sure you complete your studies - I want no less than five O’s from you, because I know you’re perfectly capable of getting them,” he insisted with a small smile, “and after that…”

“After that we’ll be able to be together fully. No more hiding around,” you completed and Aesop nodded his head.

He then fished out a pocket watch from his chest pocket, looking at its arms shortly: “Come. We have to disapparate soon if we want to enter the castle’s walls by the time the dinner in the Great Hall is in full swing.” And with that he picked up his trunk once more. “Why do we want to arrive in the middle of dinner?” you questioned, unconsciously patting yourself down to ensure you had all of your possessions. Aesop connected your eyes, and once more were you hit with the sheer intensity of them.

“So nobody sees me dragging you off to my chambers, of course.”

—

“Ah, there he is - told you he’d turn up eventually,” said Abraham Ronen with a smile as he stood in the doorway to the Great Hall with Dinah Hecat. “Must’ve come back very late indeed, seeing as I was told Miss (L/N)’s bed was very much empty last night, and the young woman herself was only occupying it when Miss Dale woke in the morning…” the DADA teacher replied with a sly smirk. “Now, Dinah, don’t tell me you’re sending your Eagles to spy on each other are you?” spoke Ronen again.

“Not spy, merely inform me - after all, Miss (L/N) was away from school for the weekend, and I wanted to ensure she returned safely.”

“And it would seem she indeed did, just quite a bit later than originally expected.” “Or, she returned right on time and simply spent her night elsewhere?”

“Do you reckon so?” “Just look at him, Abraham. That is the face of a man whose dry spell just ended. And yet he still hadn’t shared the good news with the two of us… Let’s see if we can get a reaction out of him, what do you say?”

---

Thank you so much for reading. You can also check this story and all of my other stories over on my AO3 ❤

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seriouslysnape · 2 years ago

Text

Patched Up

Aesop Sharp x Fem! Student! Reader

Tags: Minor injuries.

Word Count: 2.2k

“I won’t keep you any longer.”

꩜꩜꩜꩜

He wasn’t surprised when you showed up at the classroom after curfew.

He had gotten used to you showing up at all hours of the day. If he didn’t know you as well and personally as he did, he would’ve been under the impression that all you ever did was roam the corridors of the castle and pop in whenever you felt like it.

Sometimes your visit was just for a quick hello, other times it was for a “real” reason. He never knew what to expect whenever you came bopping in, but not that he was complaining.

He heard your footsteps from the hallway, a heads up that let him know you were about to enter. He was familiar with the sound of your steps, and he could only imagine why you were coming at such a late hour.

Of course he knew it wasn’t Potions related at all, but he still liked to make the same joke every time you came by when the school day was over.

“Are you here for a late Potions lesson?” He didn’t even turn away from the chalkboard to look at you. “It’s a bit late for that.”

“Afraid not,” You grinned, standing in the open doorway. “Is it such a crime for a student to visit her favorite professor?”

“I suppose not. It is an occasional occurrence,” He answered. “Although, lately the random visits have been usually saved for my personal chambers.”

“That’s true,” You grinned. “I was hoping that you’d be up for consoling a broken Quidditch player.”

His anxiety kicked in then, his protective mode turning on immediately…despite your bubbly tone. He forgot about the Potions formula he had been glancing over, his head peeking around the wall that blocked you from his sight.

The sight of your dirty practice uniform and the dirt caked on parts of your face and arms were a tell-tale sign to him that you were coming from the Quidditch field. There were a few scattered scrapes on your legs, and the way that you held your posture made it clear that you were hurt somewhere else on your body.

Abandoning his prep for the next day’s Potions classes, he swiftly approached you. He was gentle as he ushered you further into the room, closing the classroom door behind him and guiding you to his desk chair.

“How did this happen exactly?” He asked.

He was careful as he assisted you in lowering yourself into the chair. Your muscles definitely needed the rest, and if your shoulder hadn’t been hurting you so much, you could’ve fallen asleep right there.

“I had Quidditch practice tonight,” You answered. “These night practices are killing me. Quidditch is impossible to play in the dark…even with illumination charms.”

He put the pieces together without you even saying it. He was very observant when it came to you and had an impressive memory.

“Did you fall off of your broom again?” He asked, taking your chin into his hand to get a better look at your face.

“Yeah,” You replied dryly. “Bludger knocked me off.”

He made a small hum as he glanced over your features to check for any cuts or scrapes that you might’ve missed. He was relieved to see that despite being a little battered up, you were otherwise in good spirits.

“That’s the second time this week,” He remarked. “Where is this carelessness coming from?”

“It wasn’t careless. It’s dark out and I didn’t see the Bludger,” You corrected. “And that’s just part of playing Quidditch. It happens.”

“Not to you it doesn’t. You’re the best on the team,” He said. “Where did the Bludger hit?”

He watched carefully as you brought your hand to the base of your neck, tapping the space between your collarbone and shoulder.

“Right here,” You sighed. “It didn’t start hurting until practice was over. That’s when I came here.”

“You mean that you got back on your broom after you fell?” His face contorted into an expression of disbelief.

With a careful hand, he pulled the collar of your jersey down just enough so he could see the area that made contact with the Bludger. Sure enough, there was a decent bruise well on its way to being fully developed by tomorrow morning.

“I didn’t fall very far. I was pretty close to the ground,” You shrugged. “My shoulder took most of the damage.”

“Are you certain you’re not hurt anywhere else? You didn’t get hurt when you hit the ground?” He gingerly rotated your arm to test its mobility.

“Like I said, I didn’t fall far. The school’s Quidditch field just isn’t equipped to be played on at night.”

This was a common complaint amongst Hogwarts’ Quidditch players. Playing early in the morning and at night was just too dangerous when visibility was low. Aesop was right that this wasn’t the first time that this had happened to you in recent weeks. There had been several close calls, but only twice had you actually hit the ground after falling off. You were just lucky that your body had taken both hits instead of your head.

“Then why do you play on it at night?” He asked the obvious.

“It’s not up to me. The team captain sets the practice schedule,” You explained. “You know that I prefer to practice in the morning.”

Aesop knew that he could lecture you about being more careful and trying to convince your team’s captain to adjust the practice schedule to be during the daytime, but he knew that you weren’t up for a scolding…and he knew that you probably wouldn’t listen anyway. Quidditch was your greatest passion, and he knew that nagging you about it wouldn’t do you any good.

“It isn’t broken, and it doesn’t seem to be dislocated,” He stated, referring to your collarbone. “But I can guarantee that it will be uncomfortable tomorrow if you don’t take something. Is it hurting you now?”

Aesop was a worrier. You didn’t want him getting all fussed up over a little Bludger bruise. If he knew about even half the injuries that you sustained from Quidditch, he would’ve tried to convince you to quit by now. Sure, it felt like your arm was about to detach from the socket, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“It’s a little sore.” You partially lied.

He leaned against the edge of his desk that was closest to you, his arms crossing over his chest. He caught the slight change in pitch in your voice when you answered, immediately alerting him that you weren’t being totally truthful.

“I thought you said that it started hurting after practice?” He recalled. “If you’re hurt, I need to know.”

It was difficult to get anything past him. You knew better.

“Wiggenweld would probably be a smart idea…” You sighed, feeling ashamed for trying to pull a fast one on him.

“That’s what I thought,” He scoffed. “I presume you don’t have the ingredients to make it yourself?”

You couldn’t help but huff at him. You were beginning to think that he was feeling inconvenienced that you had walked all the way here for his help.

It wasn’t like you were asking him to brew anything super complicated. As a matter of fact, you weren’t asking him to brew anything at all. Aesop always kept Wiggenweld close by.

“I don’t. That’s always why I came here,” You shook your head. “If it’s too much trouble, I can just go to Pippin’s and buy a few vials.”

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be wandering around Hogsmeade at this hour,” He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, retrieving a small vial of the bright green liquid. “You really should keep Wiggenweld on you at all times. Especially if you’re going to keep getting beat up during Quidditch.”

He wasn’t wrong. You spent enough time on a broom that it was only a matter of time where luck would outweigh your skill, and the luck wouldn’t be in your favor. This wasn’t the first time that you had sought Aesop out after a bruising Quidditch session, but you knew that you couldn’t always expect him to be there to patch you up every time.

“I’m sorry I bothered you with this.” You removed the cap off of the bottle, eyeing the liquid inside.

His expression softened, his stern demeanor relaxing into a more comfortable position. He sheepishly shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, nudging your foot with his as a gesture of reassurance.

Aesop forgot sometimes that his genuine worry for your health and well-being sometimes came off as aggressive and irritable. That was certainly not his intention.

“You didn’t bother me,” He gave a small smile, gesturing towards the vial in your hand. “Drink up. Down the hatch.”

As common as Wiggenweld was, you wished that some genius potioneer would work towards finding a way to make it taste better. Nonetheless, you gulped it down in two swallows, immediately feeling its effect. The sharp ache in your shoulder subsided gradually until it fully disappeared, and the scrapes on your lower extremities faded within seconds.

“Better?” He took the empty container from your hands.

“Much better,” You sighed. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Are you certain that you’re alright otherwise?” His brows furrowed in concern.

“I’m okay. I just need to get cleaned up and go to bed,” You shifted, preparing to stand up. “I won’t keep you any longer.”

He reached for your hand, helping you to your feet as if you’d collapse. He hated to see you go, and he definitely didn’t want you to leave with the thought that you had irritated him.

“I assure you that you’re not imposing on me,” He said, pulling you in between his legs to keep you from going just yet. “Did you get a chance to eat before practice?”

He always asked that question. Every single time he saw you after practice, he asked you that same question. His arms wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him.

“No. I was running late.” You replied, knowing what he was going to say next.

One of his hands came to your collar, checking to be sure that the Wiggenweld had done its job.

“You need to eat,” He tutted. “You use a lot of energy playing Quidditch, especially with how rough you play. You need to replenish the energy.”

“I’m tired.” You whined.

“I don’t care,” He remarked. “You need to eat something.”

“I want to shower and go to bed.” You argued.

“Eat, shower, and then bed. If you eat then you can use my shower.” He offered.

A certain glow appeared on your cheeks, shining through the layers of dirt and exhaustion. His heart soared at the sight. His soul exploded with joy and fulfillment with the knowledge that you were so positively responsive to him.

“And sleep in your bed?” You pleaded.

He let out a low chuckle. He had known that question was coming.

“That can be arranged,” He pressed a soft kiss to the middle of your forehead. “But food comes first.”

He wasn’t going to let you get away without getting some food in your belly. He was right after all, you needed the nourishment to make up for lost energy. He swayed you away from his desk, escorting you out of the classroom and accompanying you to The Great Hall. Dinnertime was well over, but there was always a way to scrounge up a meal after hours.

Side by side, the two of you walked together through the corridors to get to your destination. The castle was mostly quiet, considering that everyone else had turned in for the night. Peeves, as usual, was cackling and jabbering about something somewhere off in the distance.

The two of you continued to chat along the way, catching up on what had happened since you had seen one another last. His pinky finger found yours, wrapping around it as a small gesture of affection. It was a comfort to him if nothing else, but he’d feel better once he knew you were fed, clean, and comfortable.

He liked taking care of you. He wanted you to feel your best always, and he would do whatever he had to do to ensure that you were happy.

“Are you coming to my Quidditch match on Saturday? I’d like you to see that all these scrapes and bruises aren’t for nothing.”

Aesop wasn’t particularly the world’s biggest Quidditch fan. He kept up with the pro-Quidditch leagues and followed the scores of his favorite teams. However, as far as going out of his way to actually go see a match was unlikely.

But in recent months, he had been frequenting the Hogwarts matches…mainly the ones where you were playing.

“Frankly, I’m beginning to think that you’re purposefully getting all roughed up as an excuse for my off the record medical services.” He joked.

“I would hardly consider them to be services. Anybody can spare me a vial or two of Wiggenweld,” You bantered. “But in all seriousness, will you come?”

He chuckled again, much lower and even sweeter this time. A sense of warmth and peace rushed over you when he pressed a kiss to your temple, a hum of affirmation sounding from his chest as he did so.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

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coffeeandmagicaltales · 1 year ago

Text

The Aelf on the Shelf

A Christmas standalone MCxPROFESOR SHARP, cozy, fluff so grab your tea/coffe, blanket & enjoy. My HC should be well explained, no need to read all 8 chapters.

1 day before Christmas, Aesop craves some free time with no pupils around... What bad could have happen? He surely won't be shrunken by Garreth's potion... will he?

It was strange.

This year, from somewhere in the north, much later than usual, a frosty gust of wind reached the Highlands, wrapped them in a snowy blanket. With a playful breeze, it knocked off the last leaf clinging tightly to the branch, lifted it on its back, taking it away, rushing forward.

He played with it for a while, tossing it and twirling it between the columns of the castle, gliding over the bridge and cloisters, circling the clock tower... Finally, as gently as he could, he placed it on the sheet lying on the bench by the fountain, covering the still shining ink letters, the last words of which were: This is all I can give to you. Merry Christmas, my dear, Aesop.

"Oh, no no no," whispered Aesop Sharp, quickly picking the leaf up from the parchment to prevent any smudging, then carefully examined the note and breathed a sigh of relief, casting a spell on it that immediately dried the ink and safely tucked it into the inner pocket of his jacket. Intrigued, he looked at the oak leaf, admiring its golden hue, turning it in his long fingers. He smiled and tucked it between the pages of his sketchbook and returned to drawing a Thestral. For the fifth time, he smudged the head of the creature, unable to give it the right shape, and his irritation level rose as quickly as the paper tore from the angry movements of the eraser. After a moment, he completely gave up and closed the notebook, promising himself to revisit the subject another time.

A solitary snowflake fell on his cheek, giving him a freezing kiss. Aesop looked up, seeing a swirling snow cloud above the castle that literally burst at the seams, and as he hurriedly limped from the courtyard under the roof, the light drizzle from the sky turned into a swarm of chilling particles biting him painfully. He shook the snow from his hair and stomped to get rid of it from his boots, pleased to be covered at last. His students, on the other hand, rushed out to the yard, shouting at each other, throwing snowballs, and rolling in the still quite wet and muddy snow. Aesop, seeing this, initially burst into laughter, watching his pupils with satisfaction, and then his expression darkened as he remembered who would have to weigh medicines for everyone who caught a cold, and then explain the lesson material after classes. For free.

"Ugh..." he grumbled, rolling his eyes and limping toward his classroom. With a quick wand movement, he made warm hats and scarves in the colors of houses appear on the heads and necks of the students so suddenly, that most of them stumbled or collided with each other without seeing anything. Hogwarts, for the past four weeks, became pleasant to the eye and, in Aesop's opinion, decidedly cozier than usual. In the Great Hall, snow romantically fell from the enchanted ceiling, candles, lanterns, and Christmas baubles twinkled everywhere... He liked this time, though never overly so, and after his injury, Christmas Eve itself became rather indifferent to him, just a dinner with his mother and her partner, whom it was hard to separate when these two had been near the mistletoe, so he had always run from them. He certainly didn't feel the "Christmas spirit" as strongly as his students, who literally went crazy looking for gifts for loved ones and anticipating family reunions, which he secretly found incredibly cute... It reminded him of when he himself, at their age, ran around the Highlands with a Santa hat and a pompom bobbing on his head, looking for ingredients to earn a little something for his mom or dad... Hmmm... Dad... He should visit him too. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of that meeting; he knew he would do it only because he should and probably nothing more. Remembering the chill of the house on Walton Street in Oxford where he was born and its specific, somewhat musty smell, he felt sick. He was supposed to seriously consider renting it this year; after all, it was his property, but... He would have to go there first and tidy up a bit, and nosy neighbors would surely quickly send a letter to Aristotle Sharp, who would undoubtedly appear at his doorstep in a short time and start bossing around, leading to another argument. Aesop planned to buy him some spirits and drop by his estate on the outskirts of the city literally for a moment, avoiding Walton Street in a wide arc. The thought of a few days off comforted him. He entered the classroom as usual, on time, and gave a brief introduction to today's lesson. He assured the sixth graders that even though it was the last class before the Christmas break, it wouldn't be any less rigorous than usual. He quizzed two students on the knowledge they had acquired recently and was pleased to note that they had sufficiently mastered the material. He drew the following steps of brewing a new potion on the board, explaining them in detail, and then sat at his desk, observing the students at work from a distance. He preferred to avoid Gryffindors, fearing that any glance at Garreth would bring him bad luck. Mr. Takaar was doing quite well; this year, his theoretical knowledge equaled his practical skills, indicating progress in his final year of studies. Slytherins, except for Mr. Gaunt, were managing decently. Aesop privately assured Omnis that if he needed help due to his disability, he was at his disposal. Mr. Gaunt never did that, whether out of pride or shyness, and his potions were what they were. Ominis had no plans to become an Auror, so excessively advanced knowledge was not necessary for him. Well, he wouldn't cram knowledge into his head for him. Ms. Poppy improved her grades, which she had failed in the previous year due to her dealings with poachers... On one hand he admired her for it and on yhe other hand her carelessness worried him a bit. The girl's head barely rose above the table, and supposedly, she bravely freed a dragon from the clutches of tormentors... Well, she wasn't alone then.

Next to Poppy, her best friend was brewing the potion, about 5-7 years older, young woman with a complicated past, whom fate led her from Muggle orphanages in the Austro-Hungarian Empire, from Nitra to the Highlands. Sharp squinted his eyes, scrutinizing her, listening to what that devil whispered in Poppy's ear. He caught words like "hippogriff," "poacher," "at night."

"Ugh... Ms. Morana Dimm..." he muttered through his teeth, getting up and limping to help Ms. Reyes, who was struggling with the task. "Please kindly do not disturb others, minus ten points."

"I'm sorry." Morana lowered her gaze and returned to analyzing the next step in the recipe.

"Apologies accepted, but please remember that you are in my class, and the break has long ended." Sharp gave her a warning look.

Although, after Figg's death, she became his protégé, discipline had to prevail in his classes, and he couldn't let the fact that he knew this woman better than anyone else, having spent practically every weekend working with her, disturb it. Perhaps due to his "nasty character," as Mrs. Garlick often blamed him for, he completely bypassed the issue of being accused of favoritism towards her compared to other students. Everyone had already forgotten that she worked with him, although at the beginning, he heard rumors among students who expected her to become his "favorite" and surely be better at potions than others. Well... She was a talented witch, but nothing more... After a few unsuccessful attempts at creating potions, she learned to brew them correctly, there was nothing in her that he instinctively recognized as the beginning of "exceptional skills." And even if, due to her age, closer to Mirabel, their relationship was completely different from his sixteen-year-old students, and he had grown fond of her company, treating her more as a collaborator, a partner, it didn't mean he was deaf and blind to talking during his lessons.

"Ms. Reyes, please do not rely solely on the textbook... it has many mistakes, about which I have written to the editorial office many times... If something doesn't work, you must think whether some other method will be appropriate..."

Aesop explained calmly, and out of the corner of his eye, he noticed some movement from Mr. Weasley that didn't fit the brewing stages he had discussed. He turned quickly and saw the powder disappearing into his cauldron, which he assessed as demimosa guano. Suddenly, before he could react, a unicorn hair materialized in Garrett's hands and fell into the potion.

Damn it, Sharp paled.

"To the ground!" he shouted and in a fraction of a second covered Garrett with his own body. All the students, hearing the swoosh fell to the floor, except for Morana, who instinctively wanted to help Sharp by throwing herself in his direction, but she was blinded by a sudden flash. The inside of the cauldron exploded, splashing Aesop's back with hot liquid; the room was filled with light, and then everything was engulfed in thick smoke.

Complete silence fell, occasionally interrupted by the coughing of students. Mora, somewhat dazed, stood up and began to disperse the smoke, walking towards Garrett's workstation. The boy sat on the floor, completely dazed, his gaze fixed on Professor Sharp's torn clothes. Mora felt a wave of nausea, and a piercing pain shot through her chest.

"Aesop, no..." she whispered in horror, falling to her knees, covering her mouth with her hands, and the worst thoughts flashed through her mind, tears streaming down her cheeks. He couldn't... die...

"Garreth, what have you done!?" Imelda exclaimed, grabbing the redhead by his robe and helping him to his feet. The boy seemed completely unresponsive, terrified by the gravity of the situation and not reacting to the words of other students. A scuffle broke out between them, each equally affected by the situation.

"MORANA DIM!" a quiet, squeaky voice drew their attention, and they fell silent, searching for its source. "Morana Dimm, for Merlin's sake!"

From the chaotic shreds emerged a tiny, dark-haired head, with a defiant grimace on her face and a scar cutting across her left cheek. Red with anger, tiny Aesop Sharp, with a hint of frustration, muttered through his teeth towards Morana, "Can you kindly stop crying and help me!?"

All students leaned in, holding their breath, as groaning, wrapped in a patterned sock, measuring only a few inches, wriggled out a completely naked professor.

"End of the lesson," he ordered in a sharp tone, and everyone nodded and hastily left the room, carrying the limp Garrett. Sharp waited until it was empty and immediately turned to Morana, "You have to help me; Mr. Weasley accidentally made something that won't be easy to fix... firstly, I need clothes, and secondly, I need to talk to Matilda. Please stop crying, I beg you," he added with a soft tone.

Morana nodded and, sniffing, awkwardly reached her hands towards him. She wasn't sure if she could just lift him like that, but in the end, she overcame herself and picked him up as gently as she could. He weighed as much as a quarter of a sugar packet; she was afraid of hurting him. He looked at her from under bushy, wrinkled eyebrows, but under her fingers, she felt his heart beating wildly; he must have been terribly scared.

"I trust you," he muttered, looking straight into her eyes. "I don't want anyone to see me in this state... Take my wand... and if you could be so kind, hide me in your pocket somehow until we find some clothes my size. I'll endure even a dress, just not sitting in a sock."

Morana, for a moment, placed the professor on the table and gathered his clothes into a pile. Reparo didn't work; Garrett's potion must have been exceptionally malicious. Aesop noticed that shreds of the letter and sketchbook were mixed with the pieces of fabric.

"Oh..." he muttered quietly and pressed his lips when a wave of sadness washed over him. Forget the sketchbook; the letter was much more important. He had tried very hard to write it, not thinking that he would remember the well-chosen words...

"The wand is intact," Morana stated, finding it under one of the tables. Holding such a personal item belonging to Aesop Sharp felt strange to her. Her hands trembled as she cast an eye on it, admiring its extraordinary simplicity and how well it fit in her small hand. Truly a strange, almost intimate feeling, like holding someone's hand. She tucked the tool into her pocket, making sure nothing happened to it, and then headed towards Aesop.

Seeing his sad, embarrassed face and glassy eyes, how tightly he held the large sock with printed purple Nifflers so it wouldn't fall off... It was by no means a funny sight. She couldn't imagine the humiliation he must have endured.

"I'm terribly cold," he whispered, and his large dark eyes looked at her pleadingly. "Hey..." she began with a velvety voice, leaning down to align her face with his. In her blue eyes, benevolent lights danced, and her tanned, freckled face smiled gently. "Partners aren't left behind in times of great or small need," she joked lightly, knowing that this innocent black humor would bring a smile to Aesop's lips, which indeed happened.

Morana was about to lay her hand on the table for the professor to climb onto when she noticed an ugly burn on his back that he was trying to hide under the sock. Immediately, she pulled out a vial of Wiggenweld Potion and summoned a cotton ball from one of the jars on the shelf.

"What... What are you doing?" Sharp asked, hiding even more under the sock.

"Turn around," she ordered, soaking the cotton ball in the potion. Aesop reluctantly obeyed her command and revealed the wound that must have been terribly painful.

"Oh no..." Morana murmured with sadness, and as gently as she could, she began to clean it. Aesop hissed as his irritated skin came into contact with the potion, and Morana immediately alleviated some of his pain by gently blowing on the wounds.

"I wanted to deal with this later..." he grumbled, and his cheeks turned scarlet; a shiver ran through him as he felt the warm breath of the woman on his skin. "You're already burdened enough with me..."

Morana just rolled her eyes.

"After the last prank by Garreth, I was in a similar situation, remember?" she said softly, in a velvety tone. "You faced responsibilities beyond your education then, taking care of me and the whole flock."

"Now that I think about it... it was even funny..." he confessed and added ironically, "At least for me. Nice memory."

"This will also be just a funny adventure, don't worry," Morana assured him, and her words made Sharp dissolve into a smile at their sound. When all the wounds were bandaged, he climbed onto her hand and was placed in the pocket of her coat, which she additionally lined with scraps of clothing to keep him warm. With Sharp inside and only his head protruding outside, she covered him with her hand, protecting him from any danger of being bumped by a student in the corridor.

"How's the leg?" she asked, leaning down slightly, and only a frustrated murmur was her answer. It must have been terribly uncomfortable for him, despite her efforts. "Clothes might be a problem." She spoke as she walked briskly, and on the way to the Faculty Tower, a few students looked at her as if she were talking to herself. "No one in my tower plays with dolls... Maybe we can shrink someone else's uniform...?"

"You'd have to take it off someone..." Aesop grumbled. "First, I want to talk to Matilda, then we can shrink something from my wardrobe; it's not a problem, but I need something for now, or I'll freeze... and besides...,"

Morana stood still in front of one of the fireplaces.

"I think I have something."

"Hmm?" Aesop peered out of her pocket, and his eyes met an elf sitting on the shelf. He sighed heavily, knowing what awaited him, but... did he have a choice?

Morana snatched the elf and rudely ejected him from his clothes. Making sure no one was in the corridor, she pulled Sharp out onto the table as gently as she could and handed him the loot, turning away.

"Let me know when you're ready," only a groan was his response, but after a few moments, Aesop appreciated the new wardrobe made of quite warm and comfortable felt and stood with his arms crossed over his chest and a monstrous grimace on his face, presenting himself to Morana.

"I look like a complete idiot..."

A soapy "awww" slipped from her lips, and involuntarily, she placed her hands on her chest, melting at the sight. In her eyes, it was definitely the cutest, grumpy elf in a green onesie with candy cane-shaped buttons and a hat with a bell, that she had ever seen. Aesop did not expect such a positive, innocent reaction, as he was sure it would prompt ironic laughter... Perhaps he still didn't know her well enough. He even felt a slight satisfaction at eliciting such an adorable smile from her with his comical appearance. He cleared his throat, putting on a serious expression. Morana sobered up, expecting some comment from him that would bring her to order, but he just tapped the bell on his hat with his finger.

"Ho, ho, ho..." he grumbled, squinting his eyes sternly, and a slight smirk appeared on his lips.

When Matilda Weasley encountered Morana in the corridor, who asked her for a private conversation behind closed doors, the last thing she expected was to see tiny Aesop Sharp in an elf costume with a bell hat on his head. He crawled out of the pocket of the young woman onto the counter, shook off lint from his clothes, and quite simply asked for a private conversation.

"I've had enough of Garreth's nonsense!"

He growled as the doors closed behind Morana, pointing a finger menacingly between him and Matilda, and every movement he made produced a joyful jingle of the bell. The Deputy Headmistress wasn't in the mood for laughter; she knew what such a prank could lead to for the young boy, and it's possible that nothing could help him, not even her. She looked at Aesop with horror, covering her open mouth with her hand.

"I sincerely apologize, I don't know what got into his head...!" she began, trying to somehow appease Sharp and rose to her feet, planning to rush out of the classroom to look for her nephew. "This is terrible... I'm so sorry; I'll talk to him right away and deduct a hundred points from Gryffindor!..."

Aesop raised his hand, silencing her.

"No," he said sternly and gave her a sharp look that made her sit down meekly. "This time, I'll handle it, Matilda. I'm tired of sweeping his heinous behavior under the rug..."

"But Aesop, he's just a child... he'll improve, I'll make sure of it..." she interjected in a tearful tone.

"Really? Like when he convinced Morana to steal from my office on her first class, knowing that she's new and would want to gain the favor of her classmates? Hmm? Just like when he turned the whole class into sheep that I had to chase all over the Highlands, and then had to separate my students from real sheep that accidentally followed the flock... With Miss Dimm, it was easy because she has a scar on her face... it wasn't so obvious with other sixth-years, and for a week, before I found the antidote, a sheep slept in the Hufflepuff dormitory and attended classes because we all thought it was Poppy Sweeting..."

Ms. Weasley sighed and fell silent, lowering her gaze out of shame.

"This is not innocent behavior; it's manipulation. Don't pretend you don't see it, Matilda... He knows that by causing a commotion, he'll draw attention to himself, and that's exactly what he wants. So, this time, I'll talk to him personally and find out what the problem is. Ms. Dimm will help me restore his original form; maybe he'll learn something along the way, and Garreth has to wait for me in front of the class on January 1st at noon. I'll impose an appropriate punishment, and we'll consider his future, if he sees any at all within the walls of Hogwarts."

Matilda swallowed hard and twitched nervously, but she didn't dare say anything in defense of Garreth.

"I agree with any decision you make."

"Good," Sharp concluded. "I'll send your brother a bill for the damaged clothes. He should expect an owl in the next few days."

Aesop turned on his heel and hobbled to the edge of the desk, careful not to trip over sheets of paper, maneuvering between inkwells.

"Morana, you can come in," Ms. Weasley called with a trembling voice, and when the young woman crossed the threshold, she immediately added nervously adjusting her glasses, "Please take care of Professor Sharp if you need any help..."

"...He has me for help, Matilda," Aesop hissed, scrutinizing her with his eyes. "Just because I'm currently about eight inches tall doesn't mean knowledge has evaporated from my head. Watch over Mr. Weasley better, so he has the courage to attend the meeting."

Aesop stood on his desk, looking around with embarrassment at the mess surrounding him, while Morana rummaged through his wardrobe, pulling out the items he needed one by one. He almost burned with shame when she took his underwear into her hands, so he averted his gaze, pacing back and forth on the counter, trying to maintain composure and not start yelling due to the humiliation he had to endure. And this mess... Why couldn't he just tidy up after himself? He always sat so long analyzing recipes, books, creating new formulas, that he was too tired to clean up... And too proud to ask anyone for help.

Morana sighed, finding everything she needed and brushing off a mischievous, black strand that tickled her nose. She took an armful of things, carrying them to the living room, then returned for Aesop.

"Is it the same spell as the one I use to resize furniture in the Room of Requirement?" she shouted to make sure before aiming her wand at Sharp's clothes, making sure they didn't catch fire or fly to the moon. Aesop nodded, making a sour face, and after a moment of silence, he gathered the courage to speak.

"I apologize for the mess; I didn't expect guests..." he stammered.

"Artistic chaos?" Morana laughed, arranging the clothes on the wooden floor. "I read that it's a characteristic of creative and unconventional thinkers... On the other hand, not asking for help indicates low self-worth."

Aesop clenched his lips, unsure if he was more angry, shocked, impressed by her words, or embarrassed. Probably all at once. Morana looked at him kindly, and a mischievous smile curved the corner of her lips. She waved her wand just as Matilda Weasley had taught her and tried to adjust everything to Aesop's current height. It seemed to work. The clothes fit him reasonably well, and it was immediately evident that he felt much better in them. She felt a warm glow inside, seeing his confidence slowly returning.

"We'll need a few ingredients... Damn, I promised my mom I'd come for Christmas Eve... I'm not sure if I won't still be an elf..."

"How much time do you need for the transformation?"

"Hmm... at least a few hours..."

"Then let's fly!" she shrugged casually.

Suddenly, her empty clothes fell to the floor, almost crushing Aesop, who narrowly avoided them. The room filled with cawing and the scratching of claws as a Mora emerged from under the fabric, taking the form of the raven. Sharp couldn't help but admire how she managed to become an Animagus... and in a way, he envied her. It was incredibly difficult, and she mastered the transformation almost to perfection. The beautiful bird with shiny black feathers and blue eyes was much larger than Aesop, who, now the size of a rodent, felt respect for her sharp, scarred beak, which playfully pecked at his clothes and hair. He chuckled when Mora pecked his side, and he was very vulnerable to tickling.

"I wonder if you confessed to the Ministry that you sometimes turn into a Silly Bird, hmm?" Morana brought her beak close to his large nose and looked him straight in the eyes.

"BOOP," she said.

"Boop for yes, or boop for no?" he continued to tease her, and the crow's throat emitted a loud caw. "Boop" was one of the few words from her truncated bird vocabulary, which also included "Hello," "Silly," "Aesop," and "Bird," the last three of which she combined in various configurations. Aesop laughed and stroked her scarred cheek; his eyes sparkled.

"Silly Bird..." he whispered, realizing that in his gentle tone, there was a bit more than he intended. Besides the usual softness that always enveloped his rough tone like velvet when he was close to Morana, there was something else. Something that tingled in him at the sound of her footsteps as she approached his office to tell him about some extraordinary artifact and propose a joint search, or when he saw her eyes sparkle when she felt comfortable and could afford silly jokes, teasing him, crying, talking nonsense... when she laughed delightfully at his utterly poor jokes or made him feel himself in her presence... Stop being the gruff Professor Sharp, the former Auror. Deep down, Aesop was a young lad, awkward around women, a sensitive man interested in art, moved by trivialities, a joker who liked black humor, an introvert, a dreamer who loved adventures, a person with a complicated relationship with his family on his father's side, wounded, wanting to feel important and needed... She knew that. Only her. His heart, since he got to know her a little better, seemed to slowly wake up after many years, or even a whole life of sleep, in which he was entirely devoted to conventions and work. It reminded him of a Niffler that woke up sensing a real treasure and rushed toward it... Well, everything reminded him of Nifflers, and he decided that he would open a shelter for them in retirement... But until now, even if he were to remain an elf forever, he would give everything to live in the pocket of her coat and sit on her shoulder in the evenings, making her laugh, listening to that wonderful, terrible laughter of hers, reminiscent of a piglet snorting. To be with her.

Yes. She was close to him.

Just that simple statement evoked fear and suffering in him, not allowing him to confess anything more even to himself. It was better that way. He lowered his gaze and bit his lip. Morana nudged him with her beak, urging him to climb onto her back. Another adventure? Few could boast of seeing the world from a crow's perspective... Well, in fact, he would prefer not to brag about how it happened even to his two best friends, so rather this story, like many others, would remain only between him and Mora.

He couldn't produce any sound, completely speechless at what he saw. It didn't matter that the wind roared, drowning out all sounds, and the frigid air relentlessly bit into his tiny body, causing tears streaming down his cheeks to almost instantly freeze. He simply wiped them away with a quick motion, holding onto Morana's feathers tightly, and it seemed like every discomfort was just a triviality, a complete trifle.

He was flying.

Above a sea of fluffy clouds, like the most delicious whipped cream, swirling and twirling under Morana's black wings with each movement. It was an entirely different experience than flying on a broomstick. Incomparable. Magical.

The steel-gray sky above their heads seemed so close, barely within reach, like a spread satin curtain from behind which the sun lazily peeked out, its fading glow no longer hurting the eyes. Morana's feathers shone as if each snowflake attached to them were a silver thread embroidered on the surface of black, the smoothest, softest velvet. Aesop took a deep breath of the frosty air and closed his eyes; his exhale created swirls of vapor that momentarily obscured his view of the peaks of the nearby mountains protruding from the mist like islands among seawaves.

Morana suddenly dove downward. He was sure she only wanted to show off her skills and wouldn't let any harm come to him, but either way, his stomach flew into his throat, and tears shot from his eyes. He didn't know whether he wanted to laugh or scream, but his voice would be drowned out by the howling wind anyway.

Morana suddenly pierced through the clouds and landed very softly on the ground somewhere behind the Forbidden Forest. It was getting late, and they had to act quickly because they were entirely defenseless. Morana was afraid to shrink Sharp's wand; something might go wrong, and she might accidentally destroy it. Besides, it was too large for Aesop to use. Her clothes and everything she had were still in the castle because she was still working on a transformation that would also affect her clothes and belongings. If she transformed into a human now, she would be completely naked.

Aesop jumped off her back and hobbled towards the lichens hidden among the rocks. Extracting them from the rocks proved to be quite a challenge, in which the sharp, bird beak helped. He collected everything into his pockets, and side by side, they walked towards the dwelling of the shining moths, which he remembered had to be somewhere around here. The fine snow penetrated through the canopy of tall trees, and Morana opened one wing to shield Aesop. During that time, he explained to her what was needed to brew the antidote and why.

When they reached the place, Morana raked the earth with her claws, looking for the burrow where the eggs of insects were buried. Aesop jokingly told her that maybe the transformation went wrong, and deep down, she's a chicken. She maliciously flapped her wings, and with a rush of air, she threw snow at him, completely engulfing him. When he emerged from it, he already had a snowball prepared, which he skillfully served and hit her in the side. The woman didn't have to make much effort to lightly poke him back into the snow. Additionally, with a few agile movements, she pecked at his most ticklish spots around his armpits and belly. Aesop curled up with laughter and couldn't defend himself.

"You... You won!" he chuckled.

Finally, Morana, grabbing his collar, pulled him out of the snow and stood him on his feet; he brushed wet hair with his hand and continued to choke on laughter, wiping tears from his frostbitten cheeks.

"Silly bird..." he grumbled, as if with a stern tone, which broke into laughter. His eyes sparkled.

Morana approached and gently pressed her scarred cheek to his cheek. Aesop didn't know how long that moment lasted; his head was spinning, and his heart rose to his throat. He felt her warmth, the quiet sounds of contentment, the purring that came from her throat... He closed his eyes and surrendered to this delicate tenderness, placing his hand on her beak, caressing it with his thumb.

"It's time to go," he said softly, reluctantly. She nodded and grabbed with her beak a larvae they had unearthed, needed for the potion.

After a while, both of them flew back towards the castle.

Under the cauldron, flames erupted, and the water inside began to boil. Aesop slid textbooks together to form steps, enabling him to climb and oversee the potion. It wasn't easy, but somehow, determined to regain his height, he managed.

Morana, now in her own form and attire, left his office carrying a handful of vials and herbs. She quickly arranged everything on the countertop according to Aesop's instructions and cautiously began adding ingredients. Sharp crushed the tough herb leaves in his hands and handed them to Morana to grind with the larvae and lichen in the mortar. Then, satisfied that he didn't currently need assistance, he sat on the edge of a book, using a broken pencil to note down digits on a piece of paper, calculating the dosage he should take.

When everything was ready, he crowned the elixir with three drops of Hogwarts' Giant Squid ink, which fell into the potion, dyeing it black and absorbing all light.

"Pour five drops into the smallest container you can find, please," he said softly, displeased at the thought of the elixir's taste.

Morana used a pipette to transfer the liquid into a tiny flask and handed it to Aesop, who immediately drank it in one go, grimacing and coughing.

"UGH, that's disgusting..." he muttered, shaking off the revulsion. Morana rummaged in her pocket, pulling out a bundle containing berries, the smallest she could find but still gargantuan compared to his elfin hands. She handed them to him, smiling tenderly.

"You haven't eaten all day," she whispered as he enjoyed the berries, staining his beard. He left one for her to try, and when everything was consumed, they used the floo powder to return to the Guild Tower.

The potion was soon to take effect.

"I never looked forward to Christmas," Morana confessed, sitting in a chair next to Sharp, across from the fireplace in Sharp's bedroom. She dusted invisible dust off her clothes and continued, "Not only were we scared by Krampus a few days before, which I was terribly afraid of, but I also knew I was entirely alone, while other kids spent that time with their families."

Aesop, now half an inch taller but still caricaturally tiny compared to the gigantic armchair he occupied, shifted uncomfortably, listening sadly to her words.

"It used to be very cold; we could forget about presents, but at least we got a good dinner. They took care of us, despite everything... I ran away because... I felt bad at the shelter; I didn't get along with others. They thought I was a freak, they were afraid of me, as you already know. Then, when the Dimms adopted me... It's strange, but I never celebrate Christmas with them, not for so many years. I just don't think it's for me, that I deserve it... I'm not their daughter."

Aesop lowered his gaze, disagreeing with what she said. These people loved her like their own child, yearning for her happiness. However, convincing her of that didn't make sense; she needed time to understand it herself.

"Here, it's different. I made a few presents for friends and... close ones." She glanced uncertainly at Sharp and immediately looked away. "I somehow feel better thinking about Christmas; it feels strange... hmm... happier?"

Aesop chuckled lightly.

"It's true; Hogwarts is always a bit different... Maybe it's the castle's magic working on everyone, who knows?" He pondered for a moment. "Not all kids have cheerful holidays, even if they have two rich parents and a large family. For me, a 'normal' Christmas, like the one seen on postcards or read about in books, lasted only until my parents' divorce. The last one we spent together turned into a terrible argument. I hid under my bed, covering my head with a pillow not to hear the insults they hurled at each other. Tears lulled me to sleep. I woke up in a carriage with my mom, traveling to a completely unknown place through a snowstorm with our luggage. Then, it got a bit better, but... lonely. I didn't really understand what happened, why my parents hated each other, why I don't see half of my family, and why I rarely meet my father because he supposedly has another family... I felt terribly betrayed. To cope with it somehow, I started treating Christmas as a 'festive dinner,' and it felt better that way... In Hogwarts it was, just like in you case, diffrent, I used to prepare a monthe before Christmas, so I didn't forget about gifts to all my friends... After inqury it changed agian, as you can see no christmas decorations in here... My mom never stopped feeling the Christmas spirit; every year, she comes up with new, increasingly extravagant decorations, and I won't be surprised if one day, the Daily Prophet writes about her... Maybe you'll visit her in Cragcroftshire? I'll try to clear all the mistletoe around to spare you the view of the old lady glued to her equally ancient boyfriend."

They laughed.

Aesop's mother was known for being an incorrigible romantic, and public displays of affection with her partner John always embarrassed her son and made Morana feel awkward.

"I'll come if you bake a good cake; otherwise, forget it, they'll surely find mistletoe somewhere..." she muttered with a blurry smile, her eyes slowly closing from fatigue.

"My dear, every cake I bake is deadly good," he joked, winking at her. "The potion seems to be working, so I'll make a gingerbread layer cake in a slightly larger quantity than last time... oh..."

Morana completely drifted off, and her head fell lifelessly onto the backrest. Just in time. After a few moments, Aesop began to grow quite violently and painfully. He jumped to the floor, shedding his too-small clothes and, completely naked, dove into the wardrobe, hiding inside in case she accidentally woke up. He dressed in the dark and waited for the transformation to end, hoping it would succeed. It would, right?

Mora woke up in soft, fresh sheets and immediately rushed towards the armchair to check if everything was okay with Aesop. Sitting in the seat was an elf, his face sporting a crayon-drawn scar and beard, dressed in tiny-Sharp clothes. Mora smiled slightly, but the uncomfortable silence, interrupted only by the ticking of the clock, deeply worried her.

"Aesop? Aesop!" she began searching for him between the chair cushions, but only silence responded. Taking a toy in her hand, she pondered for a moment whether it was Sharp, a result of a failed transformation.

"Here!" she heard a familiar amused voice from the living room and sighed with relief when Aesop Sharp, his regular tall self, appeared as she entered the other room. He glanced at her slyly from above a teacup he was sipping, with another one prepared for her. "Well, well, you thought I was stuffed with sawdust? tsk, tsk, tsk..."

Mora took a sip of tea, placed the toy on the fireplace shelf, and then settled into her chair. Both of them became a bit contemplative, looking at the elf.

"Good thing it's over," she whispered. "Although, I will miss malý, miláčik Ezop. (tiny, dear Aesop)" she added in her language.

"Hej, len nie maličký. (Hey, just not the small one.)"

Morana looked at him in surprise, unsure if she misheard.

"Rozumieš, čo hovorím?... (You understand my language)."

"Trochu som sa naučil. (A bit. I learned)"

"Prečo? (Why)"

"Pre teba, Mora.... (For you, Mora.) But don't ask me anything else; for now I only know the basics. I wrote more in a letter to you, did my best, but Mr. Weasley destroyed it along with my clothes... I... I wanted it to be a little surprise, a christmas gift for you... all I can give you..." his cheeks burned, voice become silent, before saying anything more. Or rather too much.

"That... that's probably the best gift I've ever received," she confessed, tears sparkling in her eyes.

His 'For now' echoed in her mind. She didn't expect anyone to want to learn Slovakian... for her. A pleasant silence settled between them, and when Morana's cup was empty, they wished each other a Merry Christmas, gently brushing their cheeks marked with scars, feeling the blushes wash over their faces. Morana slipped a small package into his hand and quickly left his room, throwing him only a glance from beneath her long black lashes.

For a moment, Sharp stood, dumbfounded, by the door, processing the stunning sight of this extraordinary woman that made his heart beat faster in his chest.

In the package, a tiny pillow shaped like a Niffler, hand-sewn by Morana, awaited him. It radiated warmth, likely filled with powdered ashwinder eggshell. Embroidered on the back was: from your Silly Bird. It was perfect for cold days in his class.

Sharp sank into his seat and glanced at the elf comfortably perched on the fireplace, a glass of firewhiskey appeared in his hand.

"This was a nice Christmas, don't you think?"

Epilogue

Garreth trembled with fear, waiting for Professor Sharp near his classroom. The man appeared exactly at noon, limping in his direction.

Before Garreth could utter a word, Sharp showed him an old book with a worn-out cover. "Complex Potions for Creative Aurors" read its title.

"I studied from it when I aspired to a position in the Ministry. From today on, you'll be dealing with something more creative than usual, but with logical sense, understood?"

"Y-yes, Professor."

"Good. If I catch you concocting any nonsense again, you'll be expelled from school, I will see to it. But if you follow this guide, I might put in a good word for you with my Auror acquaintances."

Garreth stared at Sharp, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry; I'll never do anything like that again. I didn't mean to harm you and ruin your holidays..." Sharp rolled his eyes and handed him the book.

"Hmph, suit yourself."

And he hobbled away.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

fell free to visit my series: The Auror & the Devil

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy meme #hogwarts legacy oc #aesop sharp x mc #professor sharp #professor aesop sharp #aesop sharp smut #hogwarts legacy #aesop sharp #Aesop Sharp fluff

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caffeineaddictwriter · 8 months ago

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Imagine Aesop Sharp dating a herbology professor, when she brings him ingredients the students tease him.

Cauldrons bubbling surrounded the room as students stressed hoping that there potion wouldn’t explode. Expept Gareth Weasley who prayed that his would explode with colour. There professor sat hunched over a pile of paperwork as his desk listening out for any shouts or explosions that he’d have to get up to deal with, although with the pains in his leg today he’d rather not be dealing with his students messiness.

About half way into the class the door to the potions class creaks open. Aesop is quick to look up expecting to see a student coming in or trying to make a run for it, instead he sees you carrying a tray filled with herbs from the castles greenhouses. The students all begin whispering among eachother and smiling as you walk past them towards Aesop.

“My class are sitting a test with Mirabels class so I thought I’d bring these down to you” you say placing the tray down on his desk smiling away. Aesop smiles to himself watching with glee, not at the ingredients but at the fact he knew it was your excuse to come see him during class time. “Thank you professor L/N, that’s very kind of you” the potions master can feel his heart pounding as he watches you smile as you list of each herb. He doesn’t even listen just mesmerised by you.

That is until he spots Gareth and his friends in the background making kissy faces behind you. He’s quick to give them the death glare “mr Weasley I presume you are finished” Gareth tenses up as his friends laugh “no sir” he mumbles, you turn looking confused watching the boy run back to his cauldron. “Everything okay?” You ask him but he just nods. “I’ll see you tonight at dinner” you say giving the professor your signature sweet smile as you leave the classroom leaving a love struck professor behind.

He sighs lovingly before frowning turning to Gareth who is turned away from his professor but doesn’t speak quietly “did you see professor sharp with his googly eyes he tots has a thing for professor L/N” he says before growing confused as his friends don’t laugh along with him, instead they all look down as a tall shadow suffocates the ginger. “detention with me after school on Thursday mr Weasley”

#aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy x reader #x reader #fluff #garreth weasley #cute #harry potter #harry potter x reader

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5sospenguinqueen · 1 year ago

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Professor Sharp: Sebastian Sallow did what?

Nurse Blainey: I wouldn't let him see MC because visiting hours were over, so he wasn't allowed to stay... So, he punched himself in the face and told me he was injured.

Professor Sharp: Well, you have to admire his dedication?

Nurse Blainey: He broke his nose!

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op1umeyes · 1 year ago

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— Give Me A Reason

synopsis. You want to be an Auror. As one of his favorite and brightest students, Aesop tries to convince you to not put your life on the line for a job. warnings. Making out. Age gap. Student/teacher. Self deprecation. Reader is the hero of hogwarts. R is in seventh year (aged 18). Mutual pining. Idiots. “In all seven years of my student-ing,” you said abruptly, drawing Professor Sharp’s attention from the essays he graded. “I’ve only heard you bring up your Auror days twice. May I go as far as to ask why?”

The man leaned back in his chair, watching the student he had grown to care for as… Professor Sharp watched you keep a careful eye on your Vertiserum as you organized potion ingredients on his shelves. “There isn’t much to speak about anymore. It was dangerous, and even when it wasn’t… there was never a moment in my life I wouldn’t look over my shoulder at every snap of a twig.”

“But…?” You prompted, knowing the potion’s master had more to tell you: he just liked to torture you.

“But the job has it’s… rewards. The pay is good. I hated the paperwork though.”

“Ew,” you agreed, moving onto the next shelf after adjusting the temperature of the fire below the cauldron.

A seed of fear suddenly bloomed in Aesop’s mind. “Is there a reason you’re asking about Aurors?”

You nodded. “It’s one of the only jobs I’m interested in. I have the grades for it, the experience,” you bit your lip, a rush of memories crossing your brain as you thought about all the escapades you pulled off in your first (fifth) year at Hogwarts. “It’s… the only job I see myself doing.”

Professor Sharp felt his stomach drop. No. There was no way he was sending in one of the brightest students he’d ever taught into a system that would likely kill her. “The paperwork is what you’d be stuck doing most of the time,” the man lied.

You looked surprised. “Oh.”

Aesop felt a flush of hope in his chest, hoping desperately to persuade you away from the career of an Auror. Anything but that.

“I’d still do it,” you said finally, a determined tone in your voice.

The hope died. “I see,” Aesop murmured disapprovingly.

“Why do I get a feeling you aren’t thrilled about my career choice?” You asked, finishing the second shelf.

“I was wondering when you’d catch on. Points to (your house),” Aesop wittly replied. His small smile disappeared. “Miss y/l/n, to be quite frank with you, the job will take a toll on you- mentally and physically. Not only will you undergo numerous field injuries, there is always the chance you would… die. This job is dangerous, isolating, and overall not a very enviable job.”

You just nodded. “I understand that risk, Professor. But I have a reason for wanting the job. I have a reason to put my life on the line for others. A reason for… for my own life to be sacrificed for others to live peacefully, should the time come. I’ve already thought this through.”

“Then tell me your reason. Give me a reason why your life is not as important as others’s?” Professor asked, sharp eyes watching your rigid form slowly turn to him.

“I’ve nothing keeping me here. I have the talent, and you cannot deny it. This- This is the only thing I’ll have after graduation! I- Professor, please don’t talk me out of this,” you pleaded, eyes glinting in the dim light of the classroom.

Now you’ve done it, old man. But he pressed on. “‘Nothing keeping you here’?!” The man stood up, furious, disappointed, and… surprisingly sad. “This isn’t a joke, y/l/n. You have plenty of things ‘keeping you here’! Your little Sallow friend, that Sweeting girl, the blind boy you sit by,” Aesop listed angrily, unconsciously stalking towards you. “Merlin, you have-“ he cut himself off abruptly, realizing the word he was going to say after. Me. Me, y/n, you have me. A part of Aesop scoffed: idiot, you are; only a fool would want an old cripple like you and everyone knows y/n isn’t a fool- besides, she’s a student. Date a student and people are going to wonder if you were given special treatment.

”Who else, Professor?” You asked, tilting your head to look at the man you had been crushing on for the last few years. Please, you thought, say it.

You took the smallest step forward, making Aesop realize how close he was to you. Your intense gaze held him there, refusing to move. He knew what you wanted, and he knew it would be disastrous if he gave in. But, truly, he was only a man. Standing in fromt of an intelligent, talented, beautiful, and witty woman. “Me,” the man whispered, tearing his gaze away from you.

“Give me a reason not to, Aesop. Give me a reason to st-“ you hadn’t finished your sentance before Aesop’s shaking hands grasped your side and pulled, forcing your body against his. He kept one hand on your nack, lightly holding onto him in case you suddenly fled for the door and moved one callused hand to your face. He brushed away a stray hair and his eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes.

“Tell me to stop,” Aesop whispered. His voice, low and gravely, made you shudder against his body.

Your eyelashed fluttered as you struggled to stay calm in his overwhelming presence. “Kiss me.”

Aesop’s lips locked onto yours, a low groan bubbling out of his mouth and being swallowed by yours as you kissed back with the same passion as he. Aesop cursed himself, knowing you could easily realize who you were making out with and run off, taking Aesop’s heart with you.

But maybe you needed this as much as he did. Your small gasps and whimpers surely fanned the flames of Aesop’s hope that you wanted him. Your hand slid up Aesop’s wide back and threaded into his hair, tangling. He groaned at your actions.

You pulled away abruptly, resting your forhead on Aesop’s shoulder. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“Was that good enough of a reason?” Aesop asked, knowing full well you were still probably imagining yourself as an Auror.

“Kiss me again and I’ll see if it was truly satisfactory,” you joked, looking up at the man who’s heart was currently in your unknowing hands.

“Y/n,” Aesop finally murmured, hand still on the small of your back. “Promise me you’ll be safe.”

”What?”

“Promise me when you’re on the field… promise me that you’ll be safe.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “I promise. Sir, what-“

“I can’t damage your reputation by being in public with you like this. As much as I wish, it cannot be. At least, not in the near future,” he whispered, resting his chin on your head.

“I know.”

Silence fell over the pair: you not wanting to move from Aesop’s comforting arms and Aesop not wanting you to go.

“I think your Veritaserum is done,” Aesop said.

You laughed, still clinging to Aesop.

#aesop sharp #fluff #x female reader #jules writes 📓🖊#female reader #x reader #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #harry potter hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts oc #wizarding world #professor aesop sharp #professor sharp #daddy sharp #hogwarts legacy meme

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orions-tears · 2 months ago

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Truly Yours - Ominis Gaunt Part 2

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x fem!Ravenclaw Reader

A/N: Y'all wow what a year. I don't even know how long it's been. I'm in grad school, I work at a daycare, I just had covid. Wowowow. It's a lot, what can I say. Anyway. I finally finished this part. Sorry it took so long. I'm doing my best, I promise. Please enjoy.

Part 1

“Potions is one of the most challenging and hazardous subjects taught at this school! As fifth-years you will be required to reach new heights of both discipline and intellect. You will begin by brewing a Wiggenweld potion.”

You hear Ominis sigh quietly as Professor Sharp says this. You lean over, whispering, “What’s wrong?”

He jumps slightly as your voice, but relaxes slightly, whispering back, “I’m no good at brewing Wiggenweld…”

Before you can reassure him, you hear a shuffle behind you and look up to a disapproving face from Professor Sharp. Granted, this could just be his face, but you take it as a command to be quiet. “Sorry, Professor…”

He huffs and walks away continuing to lecture. You look over at Ominis who is smiling ever so slightly, making you smile as well. Hopefully your Wiggenweld potion will make up for getting in trouble.

“You may begin,” Professor Sharp says, sitting down at his desk.

You look into your textbook and sigh. This has a lot of steps… You finish your potion quickly, despite accidentally skipping over a few steps and show it to Professor Sharp, receiving what you assume is praise. You walk over to Ominis and look in his cauldron. The liquid is a sickly yellow and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion.

“Umm…Ominis…what happened?”

He turns slightly toward you and sighs. “I’m not sure but my Wiggenweld potion is utter rubbish. I wish I could just get one from J. Pippins…”

You laugh slightly but cover your mouth. “Sorry…” you say, sheepishly.

He smiles and shakes his head. “At least yours was good.”

You shake your head, smiling. “Just barely.” You put a hand on his shoulder, not feeling him stiffen. “I could help you. If you want.”

His face turns pink and he turns away, but nods. “That’d be nice. Please.”

***

“You know…goblins really are…the least of our worries…when we’ve got Professor Black breathing down our necks,” you say through chews.

Samantha laughs. “You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full.”

You grab some chicken from the roast in front of you and smile at her. “Who am I trying to impress?”

Before she can respond, the mail arrives and an owl drops a letter in you lap. You look down at it and pick it up. “A letter?” You flip it over to see who sent it. The envelope is blank besides your name.

Samantha looks over and smiles. “Boy, you sure have someone’s attention. That’s the third one this week.”

You look up at her, confused. You hadn’t seen any letters this week. Granted, you’ve been busy in the library studying for you History of Magic midterm. “Huh…Maybe it’s this G person?”

She shrugs as you look down and open the letter.

Y/N,

I have spent much time thinking about what to say to you.

How to present myself to you. I’ve wondered what it is

that I can say to you to show you how I feel and to

express my love my longing for you. I have told you

of your beauty. I have written of your intelligence. I wonder

if you know of your kindness. You make me feel seen and worthy.

You make my problems your problems and never see it

as a burden.

I hope to tell you a story that moves me. It is the story of

Lancelot and Guinevere. As I’m sure you know, Lancelot

was a loyal, wise, strong, and kind man who felt most

things very passionately. Guinevere was the Queen of

Camelot, a complex character known for her beauty,

Although married to King Arthur, she fell deeply in

love with Lancelot. Sir Meliagaunt, a knight, found out

about their love and confronted Lancelot leading the

later to challenge him to a duel. Lancelot won the

duel, killing Meliagaunt.

Rumors continued, however,leading the other knights

of the round table to storminto the Queen’s chambers

and catch them in the act.She was condemned to

burn and Lancelot, in a rage,killed many of the knights

in an attempt to save her. In the end, both lived, but

separated, doomed to love each other from afar.

In an ideal ending, the two lovers would run away

Together, dying old in each other’s arms. You may

wonder, reading this, why such a tragic tale

means so much to me. I hope, one day, to share

a love as strong as Lancelot and Guinevere’s.

Their love sowed chaos throughout Camelot

and I hope if we, one day, love each other as such,

we, too, sow chaos among those that oppose us.

I hope to be your Lancelot, despite my many flaws.

However, in our story, I hope we have a happily

ever after.

Truly Yours,

You stare down at the letter until you feel a hand on your shoulder, shaking you. You look up to see Sebastian. He’s smiling at Samantha while rocking you back and forth.

“…late for class.”

You shift slghtly away from him to look up a little more. “What?”

He looks down at you, grinning. “We’re late for class. Let’s go lest I get detention again,” he replies, grinning.

You nod and stand up, folding the letter into your pocket. “See you, Samantha.” She waves as you walk off. You feel Sebastian bump his elbow into you and look up at him. “What?”

He grins down at you and points at your robe pocket. “What’s it say?”

You groan at him and shake your head. “Something tells me you already know.”

He gasps, acting surprised. “What makes you say that?” He laughs as you roll your eyes and he shoves you lightly. “I don’t, actually. I just watched him write it.”

You freeze and stare at him. He slows and turns back to you, smiling. “You know. I know you know,” you say, walking up to him and poking him in the chest. “Who is it?”

He shakes his head, grinning. “No idea.”

You huff, putting your hands on your hips. “You just said you watched him write it. Obviously you know who it is.”

He shakes his head and turns back around, sauntering down the hallway. “Hurry up, Y/N! We’ll be late!”

You groan and jog a little to catch up to him. “We’re already late.”

He laughs and looks back at you. “If I don’t get detention I’ll tell you.”

You gasp and smile, grabbing his hand and running down the corridor to class. The door I still open and you quietly run in, taking your seats in the back of the class. Professor Binns doesn’t even acknowledge you and continues talking. Something about a war? Who knows…

Sebastian smiles and leans over, whispering “It’s a Slytherin.”

You look at him and narrow your eyes. “I assumed so but who is it?”

He shrugs and lays his head down on the desk. “No clue.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy imagine #ominis gaunt #hogwarts #sebastian sallow #aesop sharp #ominis x y/n #ominis x reader #ominis #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis x mc #ominis gaunt fluff #hogwarts legacy mc

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animasola86 · 1 year ago

Text

A Demonstration of Power and Support

Notes: This is a continuation of Scars and Peace and Comfort, but can be read individually.

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x f!reader (with a face scar)

Genre: Fluff/Smut // Words: 6.3k // [READ ON AO3]

Synopsis: He gave you confidence, you gave him a bad case of jealousy.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content. Size difference. Age gap. Established student/teacher relationship. Jealousy. Rough sex.

A Demonstration of Power and Support

There it was again. That giggle that made his blood boil and his trousers tighten. Looking up from his desk, he saw you laughing with the boys you shared a potion station with. You were happy, smiling, giggling, enjoying yourself, and seeing you like that should make him happy too, but it wasn't you he was glaring at, it was those boys who kept engaging with you, smirking, joking, flirting.

He knew there'd be a downside to your newly acquired confidence. Others would notice it too. And even though he was proud of you for wearing your scar with so much pride now, it pained him to see you with other men, other boys, who would look at you the same way he looked at you, and he hated them and he hated himself for not being able to control his emotions better.

He called you out by your name, the formal way he hadn't called you in so long. You stiffened immediately, the giggle dying in your throat as you turned around to him, a deep blush on your cheeks. “Focus on your potion!” he told you sternly, his gaze dark, his usual demeanour, really, but it made your stomach turn because he was never like that with you. Never, not even before you were more than student and teacher.

You lowered your head, and he saw your lips quivering. “Yes, professor,” you said docilely. “I'm sorry, professor.”

His heart broke a little when he saw you so defeated, the happiness wiped straight from your beautiful face as you returned to your cauldron, staring into it, as you forced yourself not to get too emotional over his unexpected outburst.

You even ignored the boys around you now. Despite feeling bad for calling you out publicly, he watched with grim satisfaction how his students returned to their work. There was no more giggling.

After class, he sat at his desk, sunken over essays and other papers, when he heard quiet footsteps echo through the empty classroom. “No office hours today,” he said gruffly without looking up. He was definitely not in the mood to deal with any stupid questions right now.

“I'm sorry,” a timid voice replied, and he looked up quickly to see you standing a few feet away from the table, your hands clenched in front of you, your eyes glued to the floor. You were about to turn around again, your face sunken, hurt by his rejection, but he quickly extended a hand towards you.

“Wait...” he called with a heavy sigh, hating himself even more for being... who he was.

You looked up at him, biting your lip before you slowly walked closer, staring at his hand. Your eyes finally met his, dark and intimidating, and you hesitated before you placed your small hand into his larger one.

He quickly closed his fingers around it and pulled you towards him. A gasp escaped you, and your eyes widened slightly. You stopped next to his chair, shoulders still slumped, as you awaited another lecture.

But he just squeezed your hand gently, his dark gaze wandering over your face. He was tempted to raise his other hand and caress your flushed cheek and your scars, but he was well aware that his classroom might be empty, yet the door was open, and despite wanting to show everyone who you belonged to, he couldn't. He never could, not here, not anywhere in public.

And that was what hurt the most.

“I'm sorry,” you said again, your voice so quiet and fragile. “I didn't mean to... disrupt your class...”

He groaned, rubbing his tired eyes. “Please, forget about that. I shouldn't have called you out like that. I'm sorry,” he added, looking up at you from his seat as his thumb rubbed over the back of your hand. “I suppose I'm just... grumpy today,” he added, a twinkle in his eyes as he recited the word you had called him before, in good fun though.

You weren't always this meek around him, especially when the two of you were alone. And he loved that about you. You were never intimidated by his gruff nature, you even teased him about it on occasion. But when you were in his classroom, you were just another student, and he admired you for it, admired the shift when everyone else poured out and you were finally alone with him.

When nobody was watching, you couldn't stop yourself from touching him, throwing your arms around him, pressing yourself against him, your tiny body moulding to his bigger one.

But now you were different, barely able to look at him as you stared at your hand in his. He saw the struggle on your face, and he sighed.

“Do you... still want me to come over tonight?” you whispered timidly, your voice shaking.

He grabbed your other hand then and made you look at him in surprise. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said softly, frowning at you. “I'm always looking forward to seeing you.” He exhaled loudly again, cradling both of your hands between his long fingers. “Don't let the gruff exterior fool you.”

He saw your lips twitching before you smiled shyly at him, your cheeks bright red.

A sudden noise from the door made him turn his head, and when he noticed the boy standing there, waiting for you apparently, he slowly, inconspicuously, let go of your hands and leaned back, clearing his throat.

“That'll be all,” he said loudly, throwing you a gaze you hopefully didn't interpret as another scowl, and you turned your head away for a moment, then nodded in understanding.

“Thank you, professor,” you played along, and he gave you the hint of a wink as he watched you go, his eyes roaming your small form, before you joined your classmate and were gone from his view.

Feeling his stomach tightening at the sight, he sighed deeply and rubbed his bearded chin. He really should have known better than to allow himself to be this affected by a student...

‎

When you sneaked into his quarters after dinner, he was waiting in the large armchair by the fireplace. As soon as the door opened and closed by invisible hands, he stood with a deep groan and slowly walked towards your disillusioned form. You had barely lifted the charm, when he grabbed your shoulders and pulled you against his broad chest.

You gasped but were quick to wrap your arms around his waist and press your cheek against him. He held you close and kissed the top of your head.

“Thanks for coming,” he growled quietly, making you lean back enough to tilt your chin up and look at him, a confused frown on your beautiful face.

“Of course,” you whispered, your eyes scanning his hard face. You were about to raise a hand and touch his rough jaw, when he closed his hand around your wrist and took a step back.

“Come with me,” he said and pulled you along to the large fireplace.

You looked towards the entryway to his bedroom, then up at him in confusion. “No massage tonight?” you asked quietly.

“No,” he grunted. “I've taken my potions, I'm fine...” He knew he didn't look fine, face tense, deep shadows under his dark eyes, jaw clenched. But unlike you, he knew he was tense for a different reason, and he could no longer wait to relieve that growing tightness.

He stopped in front of the fireplace and put his wand to the stone ornament in the middle of the mantelpiece, and with a low rumble, the secret passage behind it opened. He extinguished the fire and bent down slightly to traverse the tight space, holding out his hand to you.

You grabbed it, a mixture of confusion and excitement grazing your delicate features. Once you were on the other side of the fireplace, you noticed the staircase in front of you. “What is this?” you asked curiously, but he just dragged you after him, up the stairs, surprisingly fast despite his limping walk.

You reached a small room, and for a moment, you just stared. There were easels all around, with drawings and sketches of landscapes and buildings, charcoal, quills, brushes and other drawing equipment lying on all kinds of surfaces, bookcases and shelves lined the walls, and the spaces between them were filled with murals of mythical creatures. There were wooden dummies standing and sitting on the furniture, and a wood carving station at the other end of the room. But the most prominent feature was the large, sturdy looking table in the middle, long and wide like a small bed, and it was completely empty.

But not for long. While you still looked around the small space in awe, so many questions on your mind, he had stepped behind you and picked you up on his arms, and you shriek-laughed in surprise. You knew he was strong, despite the state of his body, but he had never carried you like this before. There was a certain warmth pooling in your cheeks, and elsewhere.

To be fair he didn't walk long before he set you down on the edge of the large table. For a moment he stood there, towering over you, his eyes dark and his face set, and you looked up at him with your heart racing and your lips trembling, and (shamefully) your core throbbing.

He licked his lips then and stepped closer, his hands gently prying your thighs apart as he stepped between them, pushing your skirt up tantalisingly slow. His calloused fingers glided over your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

You felt dizzy when they reached your centre. His fingertips teased against the fabric of your undergarments, poking and prodding, and he hummed deeply when he felt a wet patch forming. “Excited, aren't you?” he whispered and leaned over you until his breath ghosted your flushed cheeks. Not sure if he wanted an answer or not, you just nodded, chewing on your lips nervously.

He gave you a dark grimace, lowering his head, and when you felt his fingers pushing the thick fabric of your underwear deeper between your folds, he pressed his lips to yours for a heated kiss that quickly left you breathless for multiple reasons. Your heart was racing as your eyelids fluttered shut, his tongue very demanding tonight as it slipped into your mouth and tangled with yours.

You moaned against his lips as he started rubbing the pad of his finger between your still cloth covered lower lips, teasing against your entrance and brushing against your clit. More mewls left you when his free hand grabbed the back of your head, gripping your hair and pulling you closer to him as he kissed you like he might have never kissed you before. He barely left you the chance to breathe, and in his iron grip, you couldn't turn your head away.

Feeling light-headed, you just succumbed to the sensation, kissing him back with as much fervour as you could muster, while he kept moving his finger against your throbbing centre, the chafing fabric creating a friction that burned deliciously. A deep whimper escaped your throat, and he finally leaned away, his lips looking as swollen as yours felt. Licking them, you looked up at him, the blush from your face quickly spreading all over your body.

He straightened up fully, in all his intimidating glory as he glowered down at you. His eyes remained on yours as his hands slipped under the waistband of your underwear and slowly pushed down, and you almost didn't notice the small tug when he asked you to lift your rear. You did, your shaking hands clawing at the edge of the table as you watched him pull your bloomers down your legs before they were unceremoniously tossed aside.

Your chest rose and fell quicker when he spread your legs even further with his hands firmly on your upper thighs, his fingers almost completely circling them while his thumbs rubbed against your sensitive skin. A cold breeze wafted over your exposed mound, your clit throbbing in anticipation. He tilted his head when he looked down, his eyes roaming your body.

You almost shrieked when he suddenly pulled a stool closer, the scraping sound cutting through your tense nerves like a stab to the heart. Pressing your lips together to keep your noises down, you watched him sitting down on the stool, and now he was really looking at you. His elbows pressed your legs apart as he stared at your sex, fully on display for him.

Squirming slightly, you felt a little uncomfortable with him inspecting you like that, not that he hadn't seen it before, but never with such intensity. You let out a little squeal when he moved one of his hands to gently cup your mound, his whole palm pressed to it, covering it, and when he looked up at you, the familiar warmth was back in his eyes. You breathed a little easier when he reached his other hand up and caressed your cheek with the back of his fingers, coaxing a shy smile from you.

He loved seeing you like that, confused, embarrassed, submissive, and highly aroused. Holding your gaze for another moment, he rubbed his hand over your wet folds, gathering your slick on his palm. When he finally bent a finger and slipped it between your lower lips, he watched you closely, and as a soft squelching sound rang in his ears, he saw you writhing in discomfort, frowning slightly, but it made him smile at you, and your embarrassment was quickly forgotten.

His finger moved between your folds before he dipped it gently into your entrance, and you accepted him easily with how wet you were. A soft moan escaped you, and he saw how you tightened your grip on the table, your knuckles turning white. He pushed the finger in as far as it would go, feeling your walls clenching around it, then withdrew it and added another finger. Your breath hitched at the slight stretch, but he kept going, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you, twisting and turning them until he curled them in a come hither motion – and caused you to yelp and squirm against his hand.

With a dark smile, he pressed against that sensitive spot again and again, watching you twitch on the table, your lips parted and trembling, soft little mewls falling from them. And then he pushed his thumb against your clit, hitting your pleasure points in tandem, and you lost it, thrashing your head back, your thighs convulsing against him, your noises tumbling out of you without control. He stood then, his hand still gripping your cunt tightly as he leaned in to capture your mouth, swallowing your moans and cries as you climaxed hard around his fingers.

Your release coated his hand, and he slowly eased his grip, rubbing your insides softly while you came down from your high. Kissing you gently, he watched you with eager eyes, taking in every single twitch, and when he leaned away, you were breathing hard and shaking badly. He pulled his fingers out of your clenching cunt and raised them to your face.

Despite your haze, you slowly unclenched your trembling hands from around the edge of the table and cradled his wet fingers between them before you brought them to your mouth, and when you started licking your slick off his skin, you held his gaze, and the hunger within your eyes made his erection strain against his trousers.

His breath hitched as he watched (and felt) your small tongue flicking around his long fingers, licking up every single drop of wetness, you even put them into your mouth, hollowed your cheeks and sucked on them hard, and he was tempted to press them deeper, watch you really lose control when you would gag around them, struggling to breathe, but instead he tugged at them and you released them with a wet pop. You almost sighed in disappointment when he lowered his hand that was glistening in your saliva.

He wiped it on his leg and licked his lips, slowly tilting his head before he nodded at you, a simple, curt nod, and when his eyes left yours to look down at where his groin pressed against the table, holding your spread legs wide open, you nodded back and moved your small hands towards the buttons of his trousers. You were quick as usual, and when his hard erection sprang free from its confines, he saw your eyes widening slightly as you blushed even deeper.

The same way that he had inspected your cunt earlier, you were now looking at his cock, taking in every single detail, from the springy darkened head to the bulging veins and impressive length and girth of it, and you felt a new wave of moisture seeping out of your waiting hole. The sheer necessity to have him inside you made you squirm on the table, needy little mewls escaping your throat. His desire to be inside of you was equally high, but he only let out a deep grunt when your hands closed around his shaft and stroked it almost roughly.

You writhed on the edge, slowly scooting closer, eager to connect with him finally, but he grabbed your wrist and stopped you. Looking up at him with your lips parted in surprise, he took in your youthful face, the innocence edged into your soft features, but your eyes and the way your lips quivered told a different story. And he could have stared at you for a very long time, despite the throbbing need resting in your hands, but in the end the carnal lust won.

He pried your hands from his cock and grabbed your waist, and without much effort he flipped you on the table, made you lie down on your stomach with your legs hanging off, your surprised yelp squeezed out of you as he gripped your hair and pressed your cheek into the cold wooden surface. Then he grabbed your ankles and brought your knees up, causing your rear to rise in front of him, your skirt bunched up on your lower back, exposing every glistening fold to his viewing pleasure.

You were barely able to adjust to the new position when you felt his hard member slapping against your wetness. Your hands found the opposite side of the table just in time when he pressed his tip against your entrance. Bracing yourself, you felt him pushing in, slowly, carefully, but as soon as your walls clenched around his head and pulled him in more, he snapped his hips against you hard and buried his entire length inside you. The deep thrust pushed you over the table and the sudden stretch coaxed a shrill shriek out of you.

He held onto your ankles, his body flush with the edge of the table, caging you in, holding you in place, as he started pulling out and pushing back in, out and in, in and out, slow and deliberate, over and over again, and you mewled under the constant friction, your body melting into the table. Once he found his rhythm, his big hands wandered to your tiny waist, closing around it, his long fingers grazing your stomach, and then he really started to pound into you.

Your noises grew louder, as did the wet squelching sounds as your pussy fluttered around him, muscles clenching, a burning warmth gathering inside you. You sank your nails into the old wood, holding on for dear life as his pelvis smacked against your cushioned arse in quick succession. His own grunts filled your ears, adding to the tension building up in your belly, those deep vibrations pushing you right over the edge.

You cried out when your walls clamped around him, that tight coil within exploding into a thousand tiny lights that made your entire body convulse against him. He felt your orgasmic contractions, and despite the soreness in his leg, he kept fucking you through your release, your juices helping in easing your tight passage, but he still strained to keep his rhythm. His fingers dug into your soft skin, and he felt a bead of sweat running along his temple.

He might have overdone it tonight, adding that certain potion to the many others he had to take on the daily to soothe the pain, but his desire to dominate you properly had been too strong. Seeing you with those boys had made him incredibly jealous, not that he would ever admit to it or even tell you so, but he had felt it in his gut, and the moment you had stepped over his threshold, he had known he had to show you that you'd never need anyone but him.

At least for as long as you were blessed with each other's presence.

Closing his eyes, he continued his relentless assault on your clenching cunt, your moans and whimpers giving him the necessary strength to move even faster and harder and deeper, and each time he smacked against your cervix, you would yelp and mewl and convulse in his iron grip on your waist.

It didn't take long for you to come once more, your limbs twitching uncontrollably as your juices gushed past the tight grip of your walls while his cock kept pistoning in and out, squeezed by your orgasm, and finally he felt his balls tighten, that painful tension in his stomach easing when he gave you one last deep thrust before he came inside you, painting your insides with his seed, marking you as his.

He groaned and stilled against you, holding you pressed to his pelvis as he leaned over you slightly, his weight making your knees quake before they slipped from beneath you, and you slumped to the table, legs hanging off bonelessly, gasping for air as his body pushed heavy on yours, his cock gliding even deeper, twitching and throbbing inside you.

You felt dizzy and were still seeing stars when he eventually leaned back, easing the vice-like grip of his fingers on your bruised waist. You didn't care. You felt more bruises blooming in and on your body, so it didn't matter either way. The releases he allowed you were worth the rough handling.

And apparently he wasn't done yet. While he slipped out of your tight cunt, with your combined juices seeping out of you and down your legs, you admired his stamina and wondered how he was able to even stand so straight and tall after the unusual exertion. He almost never took you like this, you usually found positions that wouldn't strain his stiff leg, but he had been weird the whole day, and as long as he seemed fine with this, you couldn't care less.

Your mind was spinning, the sensations still whirling in your head (and throbbing in your sex), and they jumbled about even more when he suddenly flipped you onto your back again, your limp legs flopping over the edge of the table as you blinked up at him.

He stood tall and intimidating between your twitching thighs, his hands rubbing along your hips as his dark eyes roamed your face and body. While you tried to sit up, leaning on your elbows despite the shudders crushing through your body, he didn't wait long to continue your adventure. Your eyes snapped to his still erect cock, and you blinked in confusion. He had just emptied himself inside you, how was he still that hard?

It didn't matter in the end when he grabbed his length and pressed it against your entrance once more, easily slipping inside, the loud squelching noise as he pushed his seed back into you causing goosebumps to ripple over your bare legs. The stretch made you inhale sharply, but you quickly adjusted, and not a moment too soon as he started grinding his hips into you, every slam hitting your bruised cervix.

You let out a pained whimper every time he did, but the more he moved inside you, the more pleasure you felt in the motion. Your whole body was on fire, and you wished you wouldn't wear all these layers of your uniform as sweat coated your skin and drenched your clothes. You felt him moving slower until he stopped completely, deeply buried within your warmth.

When you looked up at him, his already very dark eyes were so black and intense, you felt cold shivers running down your spine. Swallowing hard, you tried to sit up more, your hands propped up behind you, but you wanted to touch him, feel the tension in his muscles, the strength in his grip. Ease the darkness away that seemed to grip him tightly tonight.

But you couldn't move, couldn't say anything, you felt like a bunny cornered by the big bad wolf, pinned down by his big paws (and massive cock), rendered unable to even breathe as he stared down at you. A meek little whine escaped you as he suddenly leaned over you, one arm propped on the table next to you, the other hand extended to brush his thumb against your cheek as his fingers slid into your hair. You felt the rough pad following the protruding lines of your scar all the way over your eye to your split eyebrow, and you quickly closed your eyes to allow him the motion.

He moved it back down, the touch gentle but also firm, and when he gripped your hair, you yelped and your eyes flew open again. He held you in place like that, staring straight into your soul, and you felt yourself melting into his gaze.

Seeing you so submissive, surrendering to him so completely, made his heart race. There was a dark shadow creeping around the edge of his vision and deeper into his very being. He had never felt this possessive before, never this demanding. He'd never been this rough to you, either, and by watching your lips trembling, your hair clinging to your sweaty forehead, your whole body quaking against and around him, he knew he had been a little too rough.

And still he was far from regretting anything. He couldn't. He wasn't done yet.

His hand tightened around your head and pulled you closer to him, and as soon as the strained mewl left your throat, he had claimed your mouth and kissed you deeply. You hummed against him, despite everything kissing him back with fervour, your hands finding his arm as you held onto him while he gripped your hair.

As he slipped his tongue between your lips, he started moving within you again, slow, deliberate thrusts, and your cunt replied in full when it started clenching around him. He swallowed your moans and whimpers before he let you catch your breath and kissed your cheek, then your scar, licking up the sweat from your temple, until he pulled your earlobe between his teeth and nibbled on it, his stubble scraping over your soft skin. Your breaths were loud in his ear, and a deep shudder crashed through him as a particularly sensual mewl slipped from your swollen lips.

A grunt escaped him, and he bit your ear playfully before leaning back fully, staring down at you darkly. “Get your tits out,” he commanded roughly, still rolling his hips into you as you scrambled to prop yourself up on your elbows after he had let you go rather unceremoniously.

Despite the vulgar tone you had never heard him use before, you quickly fumbled with the buttons of your shirt, your fingers shaking badly, but eventually you pushed all those layers aside and freed your small breasts.

His big hands closed around them, kneaded them anything but gently, and you whimpered quietly, squirming on the table. He rolled your nipples between his fingers, then pinched them so hard you let out a surprised yelp.

His gaze was dark, jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. After a few moments of groping your soft mounds, he let them go and grabbed your hands and placed them on your chest. “Play with them,” he ordered, and you did, fondling them much more carefully, easing the aching his touch had left.

He watched you grimly, his hands moving back to your waist, fingers digging into the bunched up fabric of your skirt, before he slammed his hips against your pulsing centre in harder motions again. You cried out when his cock pushed against your battered cervix, but he kept going, giving you those slow but powerful thrusts that went deep and left you breathless.

Your fingers clawed at your breasts in support, your breaths as erratic as your heartbeat, as he pushed you up and down the table, your bare bottom scraping over the wooden surface every time he pulled you into the snap of his hips.

You wanted to watch him, observe the strain on his weathered face, how his eyebrows furrowed in dark concentration, how he gritted his teeth and clenched his jaw, the deep rumbles escaping his throat the only audible sign of his exertion, but you soon succumbed to his pounding strokes as your eyes rolled back and you sank your fingernails into your own soft mounds while you clenched tighter around him.

He looked at you, your tiny body so fragile before him, the state of it absolutely feral with your open shirt, your small hands holding onto your breasts, your hair stuck to your sweaty skin, your lips raw and quivering, your eyelids fluttering, while he slammed his cock into your spluttering wetness, your legs limp and boneless as they bounced against him with every rough impact.

Despite the immense pleasure this brought him, he felt horrible, for the way he treated you, for how he spoke to you, for his own stupid jealousy. As if it was your fault that those pesky boys suddenly noticed you, if anything, it was his fault for giving you the confidence to walk about proudly, with no care in the world, especially not about those lines that grazed your cheek.

The worst part was that you didn't give him any reason to be jealous. You had come to him after class, with your head hanging, confused by his bad mood, afraid of his rejection. And you still wanted to see him, spend the night with him, be with him despite everything. And all he wanted was to prove to you that he was the only one you'd ever need, when in reality you seemed to already know that.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he stilled inside you, eased his rapid rhythm, and when he looked at you again, you were still barely able to meet his gaze. He moved his large hands around your limp body and lifted you up, pressed you to his chest, held you close, save and protected, before he started moving again, slow and gentle, not as deep so he wouldn't hurt you any more, and not as fast so he wouldn't overwhelm you.

You slowly came to in his arms, fingers clawing at the front of his waistcoat as you tilted your chin to look up at him. Your eyes were glazed over and your pupils dilated, you looked utterly spent already. He leaned down and kissed your sweaty forehead, and you smiled softly at the gentle touch. Another reason why he absolutely did not deserve such a sweet little girl: you were too forgiving (and not a girl per se, not anymore, he had made sure of that).

He shifted you in his hold, one hand under your rear, the other flat on your back, fingers curling around your shoulder. The new position seemed to wake you up more again, and you slowly wrapped your legs around his hips, holding onto him, trying to take some of your weight off his arms, not that you weighed anything in his eyes, you were a mere doll in his hands.

Still you gripped his broad shoulders and started moving your hips against him, meeting his gentle thrusts with more fervour than he would have expected of you in your somewhat battered state. He couldn't help but underestimate you sometimes, given your age and size, though that usually made him admire you even more when you proved him wrong, because you were more resilient than he thought, stronger, braver, and needier.

And by how tight your cunt clenched around his cock, you were very needy at the moment. Together you found a fast rhythm, as you bounced against him and he snapped his hips upwards, he was so focused he didn't even notice the dull ache in his leg, and when you started mewling again, he closed his eyes and smiled, savouring the sweet sounds as he drove you closer to the edge.

You and himself, to be exact, because when you suddenly convulsed against him, your legs holding him in a death grip while you sank your fingernails into the thick layers of his clothes, you grabbed him by the cravat and pulled him right along into the blissful abyss.

Crying out loudly, you came around him hard, your muscles contracting, squeezing him, and he twitched with you, embracing you tightly as he groaned and grunted, his hips giving you jerky little stabs before he pushed deep and stopped, pressing your tiny body against his, holding you in place as he erupted inside you, filling you with his hot seed once more. You moaned into his chest as you spasmed against him.

He felt his strength waning and collapsed onto the stool next to the table with a pained growl, your frame still cradled on his lap, still impaled by his softening length. You wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned against him, both of you slowly coming down from the high that made your head spin and his heart race.

“Are you okay?” He was the first to speak, even though his voice sounded raw and gruffer than usual.

“I wanted to ask you the same thing,” you whispered back, slowly looking up at him, your cheek resting against his shoulder.

His dark eyes met yours. “I'll be fine,” he said, too tired to smile. “Did I hurt you?” he then added, not too tired to frown at you.

You shook your head. You'd be sore tomorrow, for sure, but you usually were when you'd been with him, and you'd become quite used to it. Maybe you even liked it (a lot, you liked it a lot). It was a constant reminder that this big strong man had accepted and invited you into his life, and you'd do anything to keep it that way for as long as possible.

He watched you closely, definitely doubting your reply. But he didn't press it, he only pressed you, closer to his chest. You inhaled deeply and smiled at him, slowly raising a hand to move your fingertips over his strong jaw up along the ragged lines of his scar and back down again. The sound of his beard scraping against your skin sent shivers down your spine and made you clench around him.

Shifting beneath you, he exhaled loudly. Despite your weak state (and the growing desire to do it all over again), you noticed the strain in his movements. He was in pain, that much was clear. And you felt guilty for not seeing it earlier. Before he could move, you loosened your limbs around him, grabbed his shoulders and stood on shaking limbs before you lifted yourself off him. Your walls protested, clinging to him, but then he slipped out of you, and you sighed deeply at the loss.

Leaning against the table (because you'd fall over otherwise), you held out your hands to him, and even though he usually refused that gesture out of pride, he grabbed them and let you help him pull himself to his feet. As soon as he stood, you wrapped your arms around his midriff and held him close (and steady). He rubbed his hand over your back, his other arm propped on the table for support.

While he tried to find his bearings, you quickly tucked his spent cock away again and buttoned his trousers. You didn't care how you looked, though, so you left your shirt wide open. The cold breeze on your heated skin felt nice, and you were sure he didn't mind the view.

You remained close to him when he started walking, slow and careful, each step coaxing a quiet groan out of him. You knew you weren't of much help, he couldn't really lean on you with how tiny you were compared to him, but you still steadied him, and even if he would never admit to it, he was grateful that you did these things so nonchalantly. There was no pity, just support, unwavering support. He held onto you as you both left the hidden room and descended the many steps down to his quarters where he knew you'd take good care of him after he had taken so good care of you.

“By the way, what is that room?” you asked quietly, curious eyes looking up at him.

“My... hobby room,” he replied hesitantly, his voice rough and low, vibrating through him (and you). “But I haven't been up there in a while,” he added, his dark eyes boring into yours.

“Found a new hobby, eh?” you concluded with a smirk that warmed your cheeks – and surprisingly so: his too.

His arm tightened around you, his lips twitching slightly. “Possibly.”

NEXT PART: A Demonstration of Pride and Pain

End notes: In the end, our grumpy old man is just another ambitious, possessive Slytherin that struggles with his jealousy, right?

(Also to clear things up because I tend to be really vague about these things in my writing: he "enhanced" himself (via an unnamed potion) that night to last longer to show her that she doesn't need those young boys who might be better suited for her, she only needs him, and of course, she already knows that, but still adores it when he dominates her like that. Because who wouldn't...)

And on another note: his secret hobby room, right? I just can't see him walking up all those stairs, or even crouching through the fireplace, but then again he has to brave all of Hogwarts' staircases too, so what's one more or two or three? And I know the room might just be an Easter egg like display for some concept art or whatnot, but I can totally see him drawing and sketching and whittling away in there, just sitting and working with his hands, because what else can he do, hm?

Seriously, the more I write for him, the better I get his character, and it intrigues me more and more, and I feel I've only scratched the surface still.

Edit: I have now written a fourth part (see link above!), and I am thinking about more (and maybe you could do that too? I am open for ideas/requests!). So stay tuned, and thank you so much for reading my little Sexy Times with Sharp Series.

[ MORE SHARP SMUT ] [ MASTERLIST ] [ AO3 ]

#aesop sharp #aesop sharp smut #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #reader insert #fem reader #female reader #hogwarts legacy smut #professor sharp #professor sharp smut #professor sharp x mc #professor sharp x reader #professor aesop sharp #fluff #smut #mysmut #daddy sharp

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legacygirlingreen · 1 year ago

Text

Sebastian Sallow AI Audio

What would happen if students helped during the final battle of the repository? Well, take a listen...

This is from my fan fiction found here, but CAN be enjoyed separately! Although , I stray from canon quite a bit, just a heads up!

From this chapter, if you wish to read!

Someone please let me know if it doesn't load, and if not here's the link to it on YouTube! I recommend headphones!

(also credit to @deathlysallowsfor the photo of Sebastian in the header!)

youtube

Thanks to @strawberrypinky like always! Also @eternalremorse for listening in its rough state!

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shadowtriovibes · 2 years ago

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Hi! I absolutely love your fics! I have a little request/idea. Sebastian finds out that MC has a little crush on professor sharp and all of a sudden can’t stand his favorite professor. (His small crush on professor garlick is totally different and super justified)

jealousy, you got me somehow

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1.7K

Summary: Sebastian finds out about your little crush on a certain Potions master and all of a sudden can’t stand the man. (His small crush on Professor Garlick is, of course totally different and super justified.)

“You’re sure you won’t become too affected by Sharp’s dulcet tones and neglect something important?” he asks with a smirk. Annoyed, you huff and abandon your notes at your side. “You’ve been waiting several days to bring this up again,” you grumble. “I should’ve known I wasn’t safe.”

Sebastian first finds out about your little preoccupation when he innocently stumbles upon you studying with a group of your fellow Slytherin girls in a quiet corner of the library. Or at least, it was quiet until Nerida Roberts had started to derail your entirely legitimate conversation about the uses of Dittany for an upcoming Potions exam by bringing up Professor Sharp himself.

“He’s just so handsome,” she sighs dreamily. “How am I supposed to focus on what’s going on in my cauldron when he’s standing right across the room looking all brooding and roguish?”

Violet McDowell giggles and adds, “I could listen to him talk all afternoon and I wouldn’t learn a single thing!”

“I suppose that’s why so many seventh-year girls are still taking Potions even if they don’t need it for their N.E.W.T.s,” you murmur.

“Can you blame us?” Violet sighs. “You must admit, he’s quite nice to look at.”

“Of course I think he’s handsome,” you say with a scoff. “Just because I have a boyfriend doesn’t mean I can’t see the man.”

As if on cue, Sebastian comes around the corner carrying a large stack of books on defensive magic and spots the three of you huddled around your Potions notes.

“Good afternoon, ladies,” he says with an easy smile.

Sebastian sets his books on the edge of the table and leans down next to you to steal a chaste kiss while he can. He’s seen relatively little of you this week while you both prepare for exams in classes the other doesn’t have, so not even your late-night study sessions have overlapped.

“Speak of the devil,” Nerida teases.

“Shh!” you whisper. “Enough now.”

“Not keeping secrets from me, are you?” Sebastian asks teasingly as he snags one of the empty seats.

“Of course not,” you demur. “By the way, have you got my Potions notes from last week? I think I mixed them up with yours from Ancient Runes.”

Sebastian chuckles and asks, “Trying to change the subject? I must have walked into something quite scandalous.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Nerida says teasingly. “We were just chatting about Professor Sharp.”

“Oh?” Sebastian asks, surprised. “What’s he done now?”

“Nothing,” Violet McDowell answers. “We were just saying that he’s easily the most handsome professor at Hogwarts.”

“He’s certainly your girlfriend’s favorite,” Nerida says with a smirk.

Sebastian raises a skeptical eyebrow at you, and sure enough, you’re blushing.

“Really?” he drawls. “You have a thing for Sharp?”

“No!” you whine. “I just – I really like Potions class, that’s all.”

“Of course you do,” Violet taunts. “So you can moon over Sharp during his lectures!”

You shoot Violet a threatening look and not-so-gently kick the toe of your boot against her shin underneath the table. She yelps and curses under her breath before indignantly burying her face behind her Potions textbook, and Nerida wisely avoids eye contact and doesn’t offer anything further.

After a beat, Sebastian clears his throat and says, “Well then, I, er… suppose I’ll leave you girls to it.”

He helps himself to one more kiss goodbye and you can tell by the significant look he gives you before leaving that this is not the last you’ll hear from him about your crush.

Sure enough, a few nights later the two of you manage to claim a loveseat by the fire in your common room where you can curl up against his side and revise your Potions notes one last time before your exam while Sebastian dutifully transcribes runic diagrams onto lengths of parchment.

“Are you feeling prepared for your exam tomorrow?” he asks you casually.

“I think so,” you answer. “It’s not a practical, so I can’t imagine it will be too challenging.”

“You’re sure you won’t become too affected by Sharp’s dulcet tones and neglect something important?” he asks with a smirk.

Annoyed, you huff and abandon your notes at your side.

“You’ve been waiting several days to bring this up again,” you grumble. “I should’ve known I wasn’t safe.”

“What?” he laughs. “I’m just teasing you, love.”

You narrow your eyes at him skeptically. “I’m not sure I believe you.”

“Well, it’s just… I don’t really know what you see in him, that’s all,” he murmurs, lazily turning a page in his Ancient Runes textbook.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“I just think he’s rather foul,” Sebastian says plainly. “He’s impatient, meticulous, he’s clearly got a dark past and I truly don’t understand why all you girls think he’s obviously the most handsome man at Hogwarts. To me, he’s simply average.”

Merlin’s beard, you think. You knew Sebastian wasn’t a fan of Hogwarts’ Potions master, but you had no idea his dislike ran so deep.

“I think he’s a good professor,” you offer quietly. “He’s always been quite helpful to me, especially when I needed to master healing potions, and he saved my life in the Repository.”

“How generous of him,” Sebastian mumbles.

Angrily, you sit up a little straighter and pluck Sebastian’s quill out of his hand so he’ll look at you.

“And what about you?” you demand indignantly. “While we’re on the subject of good-looking professors, I happen to know that you turn into a stammering, blushing fool whenever Professor Garlick is nearby.”

You know for a fact that Sebastian Sallow is not an idiot, which is why it’s all the more frustrating when he tries to deny something you’ve known about for months.

“I do not!” Sebastian protests. “That’s – that’s ridiculous.”

You scoff and roll your eyes. “You are not a subtle person, Sebastian, nor are you particularly good at being punctual, yet somehow you’re never late to the greenhouses.”

“W-well, I’m rubbish at Herbology so I like to make sure I won’t miss anything important,” he lies.

“Maybe you wouldn’t be quite so rubbish if you actually listened to the professor instead of staring at her chest for the entire lesson,” you grumble.

Sebastian goes bright red. Clearly, he had no idea you could see him doing that.

“Look,” he whines. “It doesn’t mean anything, I just think she’s nice to look at is all.”

“And I’m not allowed to think Professor Sharp is handsome?” you counter.

“It’s different,” he insists. “You actually like him, it’s not just an attraction.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you hiss.

“It means he’s a powerful wizard, a brilliant duellist and he’s a former Auror for Merlin’s sake,” Sebastian angrily confesses. “I couldn’t possibly measure up to that.”

You feel your heart break a little when you realize what this is truly all about – your love’s relentless insecurities, the same ones he’s battled for many years now.

Softly, you ask Sebastian, “Do you actually feel threatened that I might leave you for a professor? We’re seventeen, Seb.”

“It’s preposterous, I know,” he sighs. “But I just… I feel like I could never compete with him.”

“Sebastian,” you croon as you take your hand in his lap. “I want you to listen to me very clearly, alright?”

You wait patiently for him to meet your gaze before you continue.

“As you said, Professor Sharp is impatient,” you agree. “He’s also meticulous, and maybe he does have some darkness in his past. But you also said that he’s a brilliant duelist and a powerful wizard. Do you know who else has all those traits?”

Sebastian swallows nervously and squeezes your hand a little tighter.

“You do, love,” you say softly. “So perhaps the reason I’m fond of him is that he reminds me of you.”

“I’m not an Auror,” he points out a little sullenly. “And I’ve never saved your life.”

“Not yet you aren’t, but we both know that’s why you’re studying for Ancient Runes so much lately,” you say with a fond smirk. “And since I’ve saved your life plenty of times, I’m sure you’ll return the favor someday.”

Wordlessly, Sebastian tugs you against his chest and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I love you so much,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m sorry for being such a prat.”

“Apology accepted,” you whisper into his chest. “And I love you too, you fool.”

He holds you close for a while after that, nose buried in your hair while you listen to his slow, even heartbeat through his uniform shirt. When he finally lets you sit up so that he can kiss you properly – not one of those chaste ones from the library – you find yourself halfway in his lap before you even realize you’ve shifted.

For Merlin’s sake, your notes are in a messy pile on the floor now.

You huff and try to climb off of him to gather them up, but Sebastian coaxes you back to him with a single finger on your chin, his eyes firmly fixed on your lips. By the time he’s kissed your frustration away, you can’t even remember what you were supposed to be studying for.

“We should bicker more often,” Sebastian says with a satisfied grin, his lips slightly swollen.

“On that subject, I was just wondering…” you ask him with a teasing smile. “Is there anything Professor Garlick has that I don’t? Should I be worried?”

“Absolutely not,” he murmurs as he flicks open the top button of your shirt. “Truthfully, you both have two very nice things in common.”

“You’re foul,” you tell him simply.

“I meant that you’re both kind-hearted and beautiful,” he says smoothly.

You’re positive that you know exactly what Sebastian meant and appreciate the compliment nonetheless. In fact, he’s being so sweet that you even let him undo a few more buttons while you can take advantage of your seclusion.

The next day during your Potions exam, while your female classmates are undoubtedly slipping in and out of pleasant daydreams about your alluring professor, all you can think about is Sebastian’s lips on your neck and his hand inside your shirt as he’d whispered all sorts of electrifying promises about what he’ll do to you after you turn in your parchment.

It’s a fierce struggle to focus on Dittany of all things with that in the back of your mind, but Professor Sharp is nevertheless pleased when you end up being the first to submit your completed exam and then promptly excuse yourself from the dungeons.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #professor sharp #aesop sharp #i know i'm supposed to be writing older requests and longer fics #but i was in a funk this weekend (hungover mostly lmao) so i needed to finish something short and sweet #so have some jealousy fluff!

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sharpfamily · 1 year ago

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Aesop On the Job

How will a former Auror and former professor Aesop Sharp fare, when faced with the responsibilty to take care of the house and his four chidren for the day after his wife is called away?

Pretty much just 5.5k words of family fluff and Aesop Sharp being a great dad. You can get more acquainted with the kids in their brief summary. Brought to you by @tea-withjamandbread and @aesopsharpmybeloved ❤

word count: 5.5k

tw: tooth-rotting fluff

Aesop didn't mind taking care of everything for the day. Of course he did not, his wife more than deserved this little day off. After all, she was handling the house and the children, and oftentimes assisted him in the shop as well. A renowned magizoologist reached out to her via Owl post, after Ellie Peck recommended her as the person to go to when it comes to graphorns. MC would be helping secure a little sanctuary for the beasts, so that they stayed away from muggles, and muggles stayed well away from them.

The younger woman was unsure whether she should leave Aesop and their children by themselves, but Aesop knew that she wanted to go, he saw it in her eyes. She always had an affinity for these beasts, for some reason Aesop did not understand. So, after some convincing and reassuring her that, while he could never compare to her level of efficiency, he was more than capable of handling the home responsibilities on his own for the day.

The shop stayed closed that morning, and the few orders he had he sent out the previous day using the post office owls.

Aesop kissed his wife goodbye as she slipped out before the children awoke. He of course gave her plenty of Wiggenweld, Skele-Gro, and some other healing concoctions, despite her protests she would be absolutely fine. Aesop wouldn’t take no for an answer, however, unable to keep himself from worrying. ‘Better to have them and not need them, than to need them and not have them’ he insisted to her, and she finally accepted. With one last wave, and a loud pop, she disapparated from their front garden. Aesop spent a minute or two looking at the spot she stood at a while ago, taking in the cool spring air. It had rained the previous day, and the scent of damp earth filled his nostrils, making him relax slightly. As always, it felt like time stood still in the small village of Willow Creek. Droplets of water were glistening upon the evergreen grass and leaves, the light wind made the trees around sing a soft song, and nobody seemed to be up and about yet. One of the neighbourhood cats walked around slowly, looking at him curiously for a moment, before deeming him entirely uninteresting and continuing its route.

It was quite earlier than Aesop usually got up, even when he did wake up to go to work. He considered catching a couple more minutes, maybe even an hour, of sleep, but ultimately decided to begin going about his day. He wanted to make his wife proud, after all.

The former professor made his way into the kitchen to begin preparing breakfast for himself and the children. He got himself a cup of tea first, his eyes skimming over the crisp pages of the Daily Prophet one of the newspapers’ owls brought in soon after he returned inside. He rolled his eyes several times at yet another attempt of David Spavin, son of the former minister Farris, to prove he was a better choice for the office than Venusia Crickerly, simply because his father was the longest working minister. Unbelievable. Venusia was a former Auror, and Aesop worked with her on multiple occasions. She was driven, hard-working, and completely dedicated to her job, while David Farris was the subject of several scandals throughout the years. Best keep that one as far away from the minister chair as possible, Aesop mused.

In a matter of a few minutes later, a pan was sitting upon the stove, and a couple of sunny side up eggs and slices of ham were sizzling away, filling the cosy kitchen with a mouth-watering smell. With a wave of Aesop’s wand, fresh vegetables floated off to the sink and washed themselves, before neatly arranging themselves upon a cutting board, just in time for a large knife to begin slicing them. Popps the Kneazle, lured in by the irresistible scent, began rubbing against his legs, and Aesop took mercy on the family pet and fed her two slices of the ham, before waving his wand to replenish the beast feed in her bowl in the hallway. Popps seemed quite happy with this kind of deal, and with a few more loops around his legs, she disappeared from the kitchen, presumably going to eat some more food, before going to curl up close to one of the fireplaces.

"Dad?" Came from the door, making Aesop turn. His oldest daughter was standing there in her long nightshirt and dressing gown, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes slowly. Aesop couldn’t hold back his smile. His daughter’s hair was sticking out in all directions, there was a bit of drool dried upon her cheek, and her dressing gown was inside out - something the eleven year old failed to notice. "Good morning, love. Have you slept well?" he asked softly, waiting for the girl to reach him, before kneeling momentarily to press a kiss upon her pink cheek and stroke her messy hair.

"I have, thank you," the girl replied.

Aesop couldn't believe his little girl would be starting Hogwarts in just a few months. It felt like it was only yesterday he first held her in his arms, like no longer than 24 hours had passed since he first saw his wife nurse their beautiful newborn. He didn’t admit so to anyone, but he had no idea how he was going to fare with Magdala leaving to spend 70% of the following seven years at Hogwarts. He might have to take on more orders from the Hospital wing, just so he can catch a glimpse of his daughter outside summer and Christmas.

"Where's mum?" She asked curiously, oblivious to her father’s tiny emotional whirlwind. Aesop gave a chuckle, glad for the distraction: "Is it really so rare for me to be the one making breakfast? Quite the cad I am, I really ought to try to be better." "You cook dinner quite often. And help mum a lot," she said, shrugging her shoulders shortly before jumping up to sit on the counter, her small bare feet swinging slightly. "Watch for the knife, my sweet," Aesop warned, even though the knife was nowhere near the child.

He pressed a slice of apple into her hand, and his daughter immediately took a bite of the juicy fruit. "Your mum went to help set up a Graphorn sanctuary," Aesop said, carefully flipping the ham and eggs over one by one.Not a second after he said it did Magdala's big brown eyes light up, and her mouth parted, revealing a small piece of the apple inside.

Aesop’s automatic ‘Close your mouth and swallow your food’ was almost too quiet for even him to hear, but it seemed Magdala did, and she did as he asked, swallowing her bite before speaking:

"What?! Why didn't you tell me?" She squealed, wildly swinging her legs, looking like she was ready to immediately go and teach herself Apparition, just so she could join her mother on the adventure. Aesop knew that if she could, she most definitely would. Wouldn’t even change out of her sleeping clothes... "Because if we did, you wouldn't let her leave without you,” he said kindly, not wanting to upset his daughter, “While I trust your skill to handle beasts completely, I think a Graphorn, not to mention a full herd of them, may still be a little out of your size category, dear. But don't worry, mum took a camera. She'll bring you pictures."

Maggie’s eyes dropped for a little bit, but it seemed she accepted Aesop's explanation, as a few seconds later, the mischievous spark returned into them: "I should hope so!” she grinned. “Can I help you with anything?"

"As a matter of fact, you can! Open your mouth, I need to know if I didn't put too much salt on them.” Aesop plopped a small piece of one of the eggs into her mouth, and murmured happily when she gestured at him that the eggs were alright. Content, he and Maggie plated the breakfast, making sure the meal was well balanced.

"So. What are we going to do today?" Magdala asked as she dutifully arranged vegetables on her siblings’ plates, making sure everyone had enough. Aesop meanwhile spelled the pan and utensils away into the sink to wash, and had the kettle fill up to make more tea. The one children drank was considerably weaker. "What do you usually do on a day like this?" he asked. Maggie thought for a while. "Well, mum teaches us until noon. I'll show you where each of us is right now. We should be doing Maths today, and Theo and (FN) practise their writing and reading too."

"Then we do that,” Aesop agreed softly, “School things first, then I'll fix you with some lunch, and maybe we could all take a nice walk outside after that, get some fresh air." Maggie quickly spoke: "The twins need to take a nap after lunch, though. They get grumpy if they don't. That is, (FN) just starts to tear up easily, and Theo starts plotting mischief."

"I can see that it's vital I've got you here, partner. I'd be utterly lost without you,” Aesop grinned at his daughter and ruffled her hair again.

Aesop with Maggie's help made gentle work of waking the rest of the Sharp children. He stood in silent vigil as the bathroom filled with the sound of brushing teeth. Theodore would make frothy-mouthed faces at his father and siblings, and his twin sister seemed greatly amused by them. They got dressed on their own, and all their father needed to do was to fix a wrongly done button, every now and then when it came to the youngest members of the family. After breakfast (during which Theo only fussed about his vegetables a little bit), Aesop decided to give his children an hour of free time, so that they could prepare for their schooling.

Magdala was ever so helpful in showing him what each of them did, and Aesop often checked with the books his wife left out for him. He had to admit, it was very lovely to be able to witness his children's little successes, and see the joy and pride in their eyes when he graded their assignments. Eleazar's fractions, while correct in solution, were slightly more complicated than necessary, but with Aesop's aid, they were able to find a way for the young lad to make the process a bit neater and easier.

The twins were still getting used to handling writing with a quill, but Aesop was pleased their hands were only slightly ink-stained once they were done. (FN)'s script was neater and the young girl took her time making sure her letters turned out legible (though Aesop had to remind her to put her tongue back into her mouth), while Theodore had more of a scrawl every time he got distracted, but it wasn't anything too drastic in their father's opinion.

"Shall I help you with lunch?" Maggie asked after they wrapped up for the day. "Thank you for the offer, my sweet. Don't you want to go outside and play with your siblings?" Aesop asked gently, after setting Theo down from the sink, his small hands once more clean. Maggie's cheeks flushed slightly and she looked at him from under her eyelashes. Aesop’s heart sang. He knew all of his children loved him immensely, like he loved them, but Maggie was a very obvious example of a ‘daddy’s girl’. He found he didn’t mind at all.

"You can help me peel the potatoes if you'd like,” he agreed finally, smiling when the girl’s eyes lit up. “Eleazar,” he called towards the middle child, who was currently neatly stacking his textbooks into the proper shelf. Aesop knew his son loved to have his things nicely organised, even his quills were sorted by size. “Will you keep an eye on your brother and sister?"

"Of course, dad."

And so Maggie once more found her spot on top of the kitchen counter, her little hands carefully peeling the potatoes using a small knife. Her mother and him took the time to teach their children how to handle sharp objects properly, as it was best that they knew how to keep themselves safe before being handed a dagger in their first potions lesson at Hogwarts and told to cut a mandrake up. Aesop kept an eye on his other children outside, the onion in his pot getting aromatic and making his belly rumble. It seemed all was fine, Eleazar entertained his siblings by what looked like some sort of modified game of land-Quidditch. Maggie seemed content to just be with her father, and Aesop wasn't able to stop himself from caressing her shoulder or hair whenever he walked around her. When his hands were clean, that is.

After their lunch of pork and mashed potatoes, Aesop brought his two youngest to their beds. Theodore visibly tried to stay awake, but the hearty meal made his eyes close on their own even before her sister fell asleep. And speaking of (FN), she insisted on holding her father's hand as slumber claimed her.

With a final look, Aesop closed the door of their room and descended the stairs into the living room. His older children seemed intent on also resting after their food - Eleazar was curled up on the sofa with a potions magazine Aesop subscribed to, seeming very invested in whatever he was reading, while Maggie sat by the ever burning fire in the fireplace, drawing into the sketchbook Aesop got her after she showed her interest in drawing.

It warmed his heart to know his children took up something he too held dear. Maggie's drawings were getting better and better every day, and Aesop had no doubt there would come a day when she'll have reached his own level, or even surpassed it entirely. "What's it going to be?" He asked softly, not wanting to break her focus. "A mooncalf," she replied, showing her father. It indeed began to resemble the large-eyed creature. Aesop gave an admiring whistle. "I can't wait to see it when it's done. Listen, I'll be going downstairs to check up on some brews, and attend to a few orders that came by the mail today. Will you two be alright here?"

A pair of softly said 'Yes, dad's echoed through the space, and Aesop smiled. Before he left, he pressed a kiss into both children's hair. The house was well warded, and so he wasn't worried about missing any of his children leaving the property, or, Merlin forbid, anyone unexpectedly coming in. Besides, he trusted them. The twins were still quite small, and Theodore could be a handful if he wanted, but Aesop knew he was a good lad. A little wild occasionally, but he never misbehaved too terribly, and has always been clever and kind. It was actually (FN) who worried the potions master a little more. She was a shy one, and rather quiet. Nevertheless, her love for her family shone through her words and actions each day. And Theo doted on her and protected her fiercely.

A memory made Aesop smile as he checked and adjusted the heat underneath his cauldrons. (FN), a few years younger than now, was feeling a bit under the weather after they returned from Hogsmsade one day, a combination of tiredness, hunger and general stress from being around so many strangers, and was still crying softly even after they got home. Theo ran into the garden and returned moments later, holding a single honking daffodil (pinched from Mrs Pruitt's garden no doubt).

He presented his sister with the flower, and kissed her damp cheek. It was enough for her to stop crying, looking at her twin brother with big eyes. And then, in a moment forever written into Aesop's memory, the flower honked quietly, and his youngest child actually let out a small chuckle.

(FN) would be fine, Aesop decided finally. She not only had her parents, but also her extremely loyal and loving siblings to make sure of that.

An hour or so later, Aesop ladled one of the finished potions into small bottles, making sure to stopper them tightly and place the proper labels upon them.

It was surreal, knowing that at this time ten years ago, he’d be standing in front of a dozen or so of students, explaining what the use of Fatigue infusion was, and warning that anyone falling asleep in his class, be it from boredom or potion fume inhalation, will automatically receive a T. He did sometimes miss seeing some of his colleagues every day, not to mention some of the mischief the students caused was undeniably funny, but every single day he was thankful to have been able to resign his post, and leave behind a competent teacher, in favour of being able to see his family only a short while after he closed the shop at half past four in the afternoon, as opposed as having to spend extra time at the school hosting detentions or grading essays. Not to mention it felt great to be his own boss - therefore having a boss who was not an utter imbecile like Headmaster dear.

After making sure everything was well put away and taken care of in his little workshop, he washed his hands one last time and exited the cellar in order to check up on the children. The twins were still sound asleep, Theodore’s small snores reverberating off the walls. The former professor grinned at the sleeping children before quietly retreating to find the older ones. Another hour ticked by quietly and Aesop found himself discussing the potions in his magazine with Eleazar, while Magdala carried on drawing. The young lad was greatly amused by some of the interesting names inventors gave their original brews.

When (FN) joined them in the living room, Aesop decided it was time for them to go outside for a bit. He made sure his children were well dressed, insisted on all of them wearing a hat (though Maggie complained about having her hair all matted later), and together they set off on a little walk around the village. He held (FN)'s hand, while Theodore ran laps around them, very curious to see everything, despite walking down this trail nearly every other day. Every once in a while, he'd appear holding a twig and playing with it as it was a wand, or, occasionally, a sword. He lost interest in it every time a nicer one appeared. El was being helpful and asked his father every time they came upon some flower or herb whether he should pick them up, and Maggie indulged her little brother every now and then, playing pretend duels with her and Theo's 'wands' and 'swords'. The weather was quite nice, and Aesop thirstily took in gulps of the fresh air.

After they arrived back home, El decided to play a game of cards with Theo, while Aesop helped fix his girls' hair, and braided it for them too. He'd usually come home around this time. While the kids seemed content to entertain themselves and each other, Aesop did some chores around the house.

He cleaned Diana's perch, and was rewarded by an affectionate peck to his fingers by the dark owl, he dusted the surfaces with a flick of his wand, and made quick work of the laundry. He carefully folded and put away the twins' clothing, and put the older children’s clean garments into their rooms for them to fold and put away themselves. Maggie and Eleazar were expected to take care of their own rooms, and they've been doing a good job of it, El perhaps a bit more so than Maggie. Still, Aesop wouldn't consider his oldest daughter's room overly messy, more like properly lived in. There were a few papers there, some drawing supplies here, the occasional book she left open somewhere, nothing too drastic.

And when the sun outside set, Aesop decided it was high time for him to start making dinner. He decided on chicken with rice, light yet filling. He usually either helped his wife with dinner, or he took it off her hands entirely. He thought about her while he worked, hoping wherever she was was that she was alright and would be joining them soon.

As he cooked, listening to his children play and talk in the other rooms, he thanked his lucky stars. There was a time he thought he was going to die alone, a bitter old man with a lame leg, and all those years ago, he wouldn't have believed that he'd ever have what he had now. A beautiful, kind, and thoughtful wife, and four amazing, healthy and clever children. He thought of the fifth, of their firstborn. He often wished the little one had been given a chance. He'd have a happy home, filled with people who loved him. Clarence was loved still, of course, even though he wasn't physically there. Aesop wondered whether he's somewhere out there, with his own dad and Ashley. He hoped it was the case, and that all of them knew no pain, no fear, and felt the love he held for them.

The former professor cast a heating charm on the pot containing MC's portion of dinner. Aesop didn't know if she'd be hungry when she arrived, but better to be ready.

Once the family was done eating, and Magdala and Eleazar kindly offered to take care of the dishes, they took turns in the bathroom, and Aesop supervised the twins' bath time. This too was one of the activities he and MC split. He knew that the youngest children would soon begin bathing on their own, so he was happy to indulge them in whatever game either of them decided to play in the tub. A collective teeth scrub later, Aesop went to put the small ones to bed. The two older were allowed to stay up a little longer, and both of them chose to use this extra time for some more reading and drawing.

He once again held (FN)'s hand as she slowly fell asleep, and Theo was not at all fussy about going to bed now. His hair sprawled on the pillow like a dark halo, and he was soon snoring quietly.

When he was done with the twins, he made his way into Eleazar's room to find the middle child already in his bed, waiting for him to tuck him in patiently.

"Dad?" Eleazar asked quietly.

"What is it, dear?" Aesop kneed by the bed so that his son didn’t have to crane his head to look up at him.

"Can I help you with the batch of Blood replenishing potion tomorrow?"

"How do you know I'll be brewing that tomorrow?"

"You said so to mum, the day before yesterday."

Aesop laughed softly. Ever since he let Eleazar first assist him down at the potion cellar, the young lad tried to get himself included in his brewing as often as he could. Aesop didn’t know why exactly were potions this fascinating to a boy his age, but he hardly complained. After all, it seemed Eleazar was born with all the natural potioneer instincts and talent Aesop himself only gained through hard work and countless hours of practice: "Nothing escapes you, does it? Hm... I think you could assist me with that one."

"Really? Thank you,” Eleazar said with a soft little smile. The lad definitely took after his mother more, all soft features and gentle eyes.

"Now sleep,” Aesop rose again, squeezing his son's shoulder lightly before giving it a little pat, “I can't have you nodding off into a boiling hot cauldron, can I?"

Eleazar giggled tiredly: "Goodnight, dad."

"Goodnight, my dear lad."

After kissing his forehead, Aesop left the room, leaving his son to rest. Maggie was last. She wasn't in her bed when Aesop knocked on the door and entered her room. Instead, the young witch was still sitting at her desk, drawing. Her father stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame for a minute or two watching how hard his daughter concentrated. However, it truly was getting late now, and MC would hardly be pleased if she found out he let the children spend half the night awake.

"Come on, Maggs. Bedtime."

"Daddy, let me stay up a bit longer?"

Aesop looked at his daughter curiously. It was clear from her voice that she’s been fighting off yawns, and her eyes were small and sleepy in the light of her desk lamp.

"Come now, dear, you’re tired. Why don't you want to go to bed?" He asked, stepping further into the room and coming to stand behind Magdala, looking at the various drawings she’s done throughout the evening. There were unicorns and mooncalves, but he also recognised Popps the Kneazle in one, as well as something that could’ve been a graphorn, if graphorns were known to look positively cute.

"I want to wait for mum! I would like to see the pictures..."

"Darling, I don't know when your mum will be back,” Aesop said calmly, stroking at his daughter’s back, “she could come back after midnight, or even in the early hours of the morning, you can't be awake the whole night waiting for her."

"Please..."

Aesop sighed. HHe didn’t want her to spend the next day completely exhausted, but he also hated disappointing his children. But then again, the young girl now looked like she was minutes away from falling asleep right there at her desk, and so perhaps he could coax her to at least retire to her cot while ‘allowing’ her to remain awake. He had no doubt the issue would then resolve itself quickly.

“But only a little longer, and I want you in bed. I'll wait with you, how does that sound?"

Maggie luckily agreed to these terms, and began putting her drawings and her tools away. Aesop waited until she settled in her bed, and then sat at the foot of it.

"Do you think I could ever go see the graphorns?" Maggie asked, her arms folded loosely on her chest. "I'm sure you will one day.,” her father replied, taking a gentle hold of one of her hands atop the blankets after making sure they were snug around her, “When you're a little bigger. I know your mum treats them like cats, but you must understand that graphorns aren’t really cats. They are incredibly dangerous."

"So are hippogriffs,” the girl tried to argue back, even though her voice was getting more and more sleepy by the second.

"Yes,” he agreed, “but the hippogriffs you and your siblings come into contact with have known you all of your lives. Wild hippogriffs would not be this friendly, and I doubt the wild graphorns at the sanctuary will take to your mum as easily as those she already tamed."

"...Will she be alright?"

"Oh, of course she will. She'll be right as rain. And tomorrow, she'll show you all the pictures and tell you all about her adventures."

"Why not today?” she argued still, even as her eyes were now more often closed than open.

"As I said, I don't know when your mum comes home. And even if she walked through the door right now, you're entirely too tired to be looking at graphorns right now, my sweet."

"I'm not - “ the girl yawned loudly, “-m not tired."

"Of course you're not."

"Have you ever touched a graphorn?"

"Oh I did. Several times, actually. The ones your mother used to keep. I was not too keen on them in the beginning, but they did grow on me over the years."

"Which other beasts did she keep? Any that she doesn't keep now?"

And so Aesop talked about all of the beasts he encountered in his wife's vivariums, and later in that chest he helped her transfigure into the perfect place for animals. Maggie would occasionally ask a question, her voice quieter and quieter each time, until she stopped asking entirely. Still, Aesop sat with her, looking at his precious little girl. Her face was still that of a child, but her more grown up features began appearing in it as well, and Aesop had no doubt she'd grow up to be a real beauty one day, just like her mother was. He actually saw in her bits of his own mother, Maggie’s namesake, like the gentle slope of her nose, or the expressive eyebrows.

Before he realised his eyes were even closing, the former professor nodded off.

A gentle hand on his cheek woke him and he looked around in the dim room. His eyes caught those of his wife. "Hello, you," she chirped quietly, mindful not to wake their daughter. Aesop stifled a groan - his poor back. It bothered him whenever he fell asleep somewhere that wasn't his bed. MC's other hand held out a vial he'd never fail to recognise.

"You'll be pleased to know that your crate worth of Wiggenweld potions was entirely unneeded. That is, until I came here and saw you. Was this your plan all along?" she asked teasingly, her eyes sparkling even in the dark. Aesop quickly gulped down the potion and welcomed the near instant relief. He gave one more look to his sleeping child before letting his wife pull him to his feet and lead him out of the bedroom.

Once they were outside and the door was shut, he gathered the woman into his arms and captured her lips with his own. It was not a short ‘welcome back’ kiss either, the former professor would not allow his woman to leave his arms until he deemed her sensibly snogged and breathless.

"Hello," he finally greeted, his voice slightly hoarse from both his impromptu nap and the heated kiss they just shared., "when did you get home?" "Just now,” she replied, still holding onto him for dear life, “It's half past midnight. Sorry I took so long, but the beasts are now safe in their new home."

"I'm happy to hear it. Have you eaten? There's chicken with rice in the kitchen."

"I have, thank you. I'll save it for tomorrow. But I could definitely use a bath. One gets sweaty chasing graphorns around."

Aesop chuckled, dipping his head into the crook of her neck, a very special place he considered his home just as much as his house.

"Hm... You smell amazing though."

"And you're a liar, Aesop Sharp."

"I'm not. You smell delectable. I could eat you up."

She laughed softly at his words, keeping her volume sensibly low so as not to wake up half the house. The palms of her hands made contact with his chest in what was st likely supposed to be a teasing smack, but was way too gentle to be seen as much.

"Oh you... Come, let's have a quick bath before bed, she decided, leading her husband away by the hand from their eldest daughter’s room and towards their own bedroom, "How was your day?" "Definitely less thrilling than yours, but I enjoyed it very much” said Aesop honestly, sitting on their shared bed as his wife began pulling off her rather dirty clothes. “The children were lovely and very well behaved the entire day, did their school work without any fuss, (FN) writes very nicely, and Eleazar’s fractions are getting better and better with each exercise. And Maggie helped me cook lunch today."

"Would you look at that. You lot have been busy. I'm very glad to hear it."

"What about you?” Aesop asked, aiding his wife at removing the last bits of her clothing while beginning to work on his own garment. Their clothes immediately floated off to the hamper to be dealt with later. !I can see you’ve been rolling around a bit."

"I had to dodge quickly, some of the males were a little fussy. I've still got it though, only broke a little sweat,” the younger woman gave him a little grin, and Aesop felt himself fall in love with her all over again. It’s been over fifteen years since they shared their first kiss, their first embrace, since they first lay together, and yet a single look and a single smile made Aesop’s heart pick up pace and his knees go a little weaker.

"I'd never dare even mention the possibility of you not having it,” He said finally. Aesop knew she saw right past him, he was hyper aware that she was able to read him like an open book now. She knew all of his secrets, the entirety of his past, she knew where he was vulnerable the most.

He couldn’t wish for a person he’d trust more with this knowledge.

“So, about the bath…”

Hello, and thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this story, we'll be very thankful for any and all feedback, and you can also check this fic out over at AO3, where all of the other Sharp family fics are as well 🥰

#aesop sharp #hogwarts legacy #professor sharp #eleazar sharp #magdala sharp #natty sharp #theodore sharp #tag: the sharp family #aesop sharp x reader #professor sharp x reader #aesop sharp x you #aesop sharp x mc #family fluff #sice of life #domestic fluff #aesop sharp is a great dad #fluff #kid fic

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 1 month ago

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Sharp March 2025 - 25. Amortentia

Aesop Sharp teaches the lesson on the strongest Love Potion known to wizardkind.

After yesterday's sadness, I decided to have this fun full of longing and gently torturing Aesop. What fun! 🤣

25. Amortentia (1.8k)

This lesson wasn’t a good idea…

That is, Aesop knew that he couldn’t quite just skip over this particular lesson, it was, after all, a part of the seventh years’ NEWT class curriculum, and while brewing and using a potion such as Amortentia was dubious at best and criminal at worst, it was his firm belief that the students should, at the very least, know how to recognise it and how to remove its effects should they ever encounter someone on whom this potion was used.

Still, every single year he taught this particular lesson, he made sure to keep his eyes peeled for any potential troublemaker who might try to pinch a vial of the finished potion, for whatever reason - he really didn’t need even more work on his hands, and brewing a antidote for this potion was more work indeed, as the students would find out the very next lesson as well.

Besides, it could be plain dangerous as well. He heard stories of people under the influence of this particular love potion becoming so lovesick, they turned violent against those who tried to keep them away from the object of their obsession. There were even cases of people dying, because in an attempt to get to their target, they put themselves into a dangerous situation. A particularly grisly case was that of a wizard from London, who, as a way to locate the person the potion made him believe he loved, climbed atop a balcony of a tall building. And then, once he saw them, he just… he just jumped.

Aesop cringed - that was before his time as an Auror, but from what he heard, it was not pretty. To cover it up wasn’t that much of a problem, he heard, as the Muggles who witnessed it (as well as the Bobbies who were called there) wrote it off as a suicide. Not the Aurors - they saw it as murder, seeing as the man would have never taken his own life had it not been for the potion. Apparently, the Daily Prophet spoke of little else than the dangers of Love Potions for weeks following the nasty incident.

Therefore, he felt it was his duty as not only a teacher, but also as a former Auror, to instill into the students just how dangerous love potions can be, and Amortentia most of all.

What never crossed his mind, however, at least until he was face-to-face with the situation, was the fact that he’d suddenly be surrounded by the smell of what he found the most attractive. And, well, any other year before it wouldn’t have exactly been a problem - yes, it could be slightly distracting, but he was old and experienced enough to be able to mostly ignore the incredible blend of smells.

Well, not this year.

He, of course, brewed a batch of the potion in advance, just to be able to show the students how a correctly brewed Amortentia looked, and how different its smell could be for every individual. The brewing itself went without a hitch, obviously, but once Aesop bent over his cauldron for the last time for one final stir, he very nearly froze in place.

Frankly, he should have expected it. Should have, but didn’t, and that was on him. For whatever reason, he presumed the potion would smell to him like it always did - this sort of pleasant light soapy smell, like freshly washed laundry that’s been left outside to dry in the warm summer sun, coupled with the scent of good quality drawing paper, and the smell of earth after a rain. He had been mistaken.

Because the moment he bent over the cauldron, the smell that hit his nose was one he couldn’t fully take apart and explain, but he very much knew where he knew the smell from.

It was her. Of bloody course it was.

There was something floral, though he couldn’t identify which flower gave off such a scent, floral and powdery, and there was a hint of something wild and sweet in the undertone of it, kind of like sour cherries. He breathed in deeply, his eyes closing subconsciously. It was only when a particularly large bubble burst upon the potion’s surface did he remember himself, and stirred the mixture before turning off the burner below his cauldron.

Bloody hell.

He knew that smell, and he knew it well. He encountered it in both his waking moments and in his dreams, and it drove him absolutely mad.

He allowed himself to close his eyes once more and again inhale the vapours from the potion deeply. And, at that moment, it was almost as if she herself stood there, right before him, her and her irresistibly addictive smell, and he was getting completely high on it. Oftentimes he only caught a whiff of it, when he walked by her, or stood next to her to see her progress in class. Sometimes, he was able to indulge in it for a little longer, like when she had tea with him in his chambers, their armchairs close to one another, so that they were able to talk quietly. Sometimes the smell lingered, and it drove Aesop to fantasies about her still being there with him, rather than heading to sleep in her dormitory.

Now, however, the smell was stronger than he ever had the chance to smell it, and it was, frankly, turning his conscious brain into utter mush. It was like she stood very, very close to him, closer than ever. In fact, it was like she was standing so close, not a leaf of paper would fit between the flush press of their bodies against one another, so close, Aesop could almost feel the softness and the warmth of the delicate skin of her neck, where he’d buried his face, like he was a man starved and only her sweet smell could sustain him.

He could very nearly feel the phantom of her fingers in his hair, could feel his own hands closing tightly around her hips, attempting to pull her closer and closer.

Aesop opened his eyes.

Merlin’s bloody beard…

Sweat appeared at his brow, and his breathing was nearly laboured. He was leaning over the cauldron as if he truly was embracing the object of his admiration and affection just now, and yes indeed, he did feel a little confused as to how was she not there…

Shaking his head, he stepped away from the cauldron, though his legs felt like they were made of lead, and he immediately missed the scent that filled his nose so beautifully just moments prior. He put the cauldron under a stasis spell, to keep the smell contained until the potion was needed for the actual lesson, and used his wand to clear the air in the Dungeons of any remains of the potion’s vapours. Slowly, he hobbled to his desk and sat upon his chair rather heavily. Blindly, he reached into his robes for a vial of Wiggenweld potion, which he uncorked and drank its contents in a single swallow.

It was going to be an interesting lesson indeed, Aesop presumed.

—

He had not been wrong in his original assessment. The part of the lesson in which explained the origins, effects and dangers of the Amortentia potion went by alright. Aesop kept his distance from the cauldron, just to be able to clearly see everyone and insure nobody secretly took any of it. That’s what he told himself, at least, in reality, he was really steeling himself for soon having the entire room filled with the smell of the young Ravenclaw.

Speaking of her, he chanced a quick look at her, and it almost made him stutter in his speech - she was looking at the cauldron, ever so slightly leaning closer to it, her eyes half-lidded, and a faint blush colouring her cheeks.

He wondered what it was that she smelled, what scent it was that was alluring her like so…

The potions master cleared his throat: “You will find the instructions on the blackboard, additional information about the ingredients' preparation process can be found in your books, provided all of you actually brought them with you this time.” And with that, he turned around and went to sit down.

Soon, the room was filled with sounds of daggers clicking against cutting boards, book pages being turned, the instructions being copied from the blackboard, and ingredients being prepared. He watched the seventh years in near silence, for once having no essays or pop-quizzes to grade, which he was rather glad for - he presumed he soon wouldn’t be able to focus on any sort of grading anyway.

And he was correct - as the lesson progressed, he forced himself into a standing position, and made a little lap around the classroom, peeking at the students’ cauldrons over their shoulder, occasionally making small comments and recommendations when he saw someone was a little lost. However, it would seem most of the NEWT students were being meticulous in their efforts, as the air in the room was slowly becoming sweeter for Aesop’s nose, mellower.

He made his way over to the young Ravenclaw. She was visibly focused on her work, something he always deeply appreciated about her - her work ethic could be greater than that of a Hufflepuff. He stood behind her, perhaps just a little bit closer than he stood to the other students, peeking down his nose at the contents of her cauldron. He saw her tense for a moment but then relax again, gracefully stirring her potion.

“Good colour,” he praised slowly. Then, as if on its own accord, his hand reached forward and closed around her stirrer (and partially her hand). He led her hand for a few stirs, then opened his mouth to speak again: “and the consistency appears to be fine as well.”

He had to force himself to let go of her and step back, immediately missing the warmth of her body so close to his. However, even as he stepped back, he felt that sweet scent of hers lingering, tickling his nose and making him try very hard not to breathe too, well, obviously.

“You’re doing a good job, Miss (L/N). Do keep at it,” he said finally and walked (fled) back to his desk, to rest his leg (calm down) again.

Little did he know that the young woman breathed a small sigh of relief. For even as the professor stepped away from her, the smell of him remained in the air around her. A very lovely blend of sandalwood from the cologne he wore, a hint of Firewhisky, and a mix of various herbs that he used as ingredients. She didn’t know when she started finding the smell so appealing, but once she did, she got positively high on it every time her nose caught a trace of it.

And now she was surrounded by it…

Her cheeks were flushed, her neck a bit too warm, and whenever a pair of dark eyes landed on her from across the classroom, she felt like she was in heaven, and she felt like she was in hell.

Oh, Merlin, give her strength that the lesson today won’t make her lose her mind…

---

Hello! I hope you enjoyed this little story. You can check out all of my other stories over on AO3 ❤️

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #fanfiction #aesop sharp x reader #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #fluff #sharp march 2025 #sharpmarch2025

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seriouslysnape · 2 years ago

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Saving a Life

Aesop Sharp x Fem! Student! Reader Tags: None. Word Count: 2.8k “I’m really happy you did.”

꩜꩜꩜꩜

When you came barreling into the classroom, he was sure that something horrible had happened.

He was used to you coming by pretty much any time of day, but when you came rushing in positively panicked and frantic, he knew that something was wrong.

You looked as if you had sprinted all the way from Poidsear Coast based on the way you were barely able to stand. There were beads of sweat scattered across your forehead, despite the frigid January air outside. Your breathing was short and rapid, both from over exertion and emotional turmoil.

This was not normal behavior for you. He found it peculiar, which is why he dropped everything to assist you. He shot up from his chair at his desk, making the quickest strides towards you that his battered leg would allow him to.

Your arms were wrapped around your midsection, clinging to your abdomen for dear life. The expression on your face was particularly concerning, because you looked as if you had just witnessed something unthinkably tragic.

“What’s wrong?” He had asked, his hands gripping the bottom of your forearms as if you’d collapse. “Are you hurt?”

He felt partial relief when you shook your head no, but he still didn’t have an answer for what was happening.

He could feel the chill of your skin through the material of your robes. He couldn’t believe you were out in this weather so severely underdressed. You could’ve at least ditched the robes and put on a coat.

“Are you sick?” He tried again. “Talk to me.”

There was some slight movement underneath your robes, and the way that you had your arms wrapped around yourself made it clear that you were keeping something shielded underneath.

“He’s hurt!” You wailed.

“Who is hurt? What is that?” He asked, making the connection that whatever you had bundled up in your robes was the cause of your stress.

Your right arm freed itself to pull the left side of your robes back. Your left arm was supporting the weight of something, and the sudden exposure to the cold air of the classroom caused it to stir.

You presented a small creature, just barely small enough to fit in one of your palms. It had soft black fur, a long snout, and a fluffy tail. Aesop identified it as a Niffler, and based on its current condition, it wasn’t looking so good.

Its body was curled up in a ball, the muscles on the small animal were constricting and releasing rapidly, causing it to shiver like no tomorrow. It was lethargic and what little voluntary movement it did make was slow and weak — very abnormal behavior for a healthy Niffler.

“It’s a Niffler! I found him at the bottom of a tree up on a mountain.” You cradled its limp frame.

“Nifflers are usually burrowed down this time of the year. I wonder what it was doing all the way up there,” Aesop glanced over the critter. “What in Merlin’s name were you doing up there? And without a coat?”

Quite frankly, Aesop was much more concerned about you getting sick from being outside without a sustainable source of heat. The Niffler was the least of his worries, but it was at the top of your list.

“I was trying out my new Quidditch broom!” You shrilled, growing more upset by the second. “I was only going to be gone for a little while!”

It wasn’t necessarily uncommon to see a Niffler out and about during the winter months of the year, but it certainly was odd to find one so far from the ground.

A Niffler as little as this one would have a hard time traversing out in the open with all the snow and ice on the ground. Nifflers were meant to be underground travelers, and they typically thrived in the warmer months.

“You could’ve at least worn a sweater,” He grumbled under his breath. “What was it doing?”

“He probably escaped a poacher or something,” You rambled, clearly more concerned with the current issue at hand. “Aesop, you have to help him! He was nearly frozen when I picked him up, and he’s not getting any better.”

Aesop realized then that this was a rescue mission. You hadn’t brought this little Niffler all the way here just to show him off (which you had done before with Nifflers and other various beasts), you had brought him to seek help in trying to keep him from becoming a popsicle.

“I have no expertise in this area. Did you try taking it to Professor Howin?” Aesop suggested, clearly not confident in his beast tending abilities.

“I can’t find her! She wasn’t in the classroom and no one knows where she is.” Your voice wavered as if you were on the verge of tears.

This was far beyond Aesop’s skill set. He knew nothing about Nifflers or how to care for them. He certainly didn’t know how to reverse hypothermic shock on one.

“He’s so little, he won’t make it on his own!” You wailed, the tears welling up in your eyes and one more rejection away from spilling.

He knew how passionate you were about beasts. From the smallest Puffskeins to the largest Hippogriffs, you were a lover of all magical critters.

If there was anything that could get you this worked up, it was a beast who needed help.

“I wouldn’t even know where to begin, I have absolutely no training in taking care of wild beasts.” He persisted, but his voice was sympathetic.

That was when the waterworks came, tears leaking from your eyes and spilling down your cheeks faster than you could wipe them away. You trembled all over, both from nearly getting frozen yourself and with fear. You were shaking like a leaf and scared to death for what was going to become of this defenseless little Niffler.

“Aesop, please!” You begged. “He’ll die if you don’t help him!”

He was taken aback by your sudden passion and determination. It was very rare for you to get assertive and even more rare for you to be this desperate for help.

Him giving in to your pleas was mainly because he couldn’t stand to see you so frazzled and upset.

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but he had to do something.

“Alright, darling, alright. You must calm down,” He cupped your face in his hands, stroking the apples of your cheeks with his thumbs. “Look, I will…I will do what I can. Now, please — try to relax.”

He didn’t want to be responsible for whether or not this Niffler survived or not. But he supposed that doing nothing was worse.

He took the Niffler from your hands carefully, holding it close to his chest to keep him from losing any more heat. He seriously had no clue where to start, but he was going to do what he could to at least try to save him.

If nothing else, he could get the little guy stable enough to where he could make it to someone who did know what they were doing.

He carried him to his desk, setting him down carefully and with ease. He sat in his chair to get closer to the Niffler, and you were standing next to him.

His main objective first was to get some heat back into the Nifffler’s body…gradually, of course.

“I need your robes. Take them off.”

In better circumstances, you most definitely would’ve made a dirty joke and teased him. But you obliged silently, whipping your robes off of your body and handing them over.

Aesop made a silent note that not only had you failed to wear a coat or sweater, but you were also wearing short sleeves. From now on, he was going to start making you carry hand warmers around.

He properly wrapped the Niffler in your robes, bundling the shivering critter up as much as he could, leaving just his head to be sticking out. He drew his wand, casting a warming charm to speed the process along.

“As long as we keep it wrapped up-“

“It’s a boy.” You sniffed, correcting him.

Normally, he would’ve made some kind of sarcastic remark back to you, but he knew you were upset and only trying to do what you could to help.

“Right. Well, as long as we keep him wrapped up, I believe he’ll have a fighting chance,” He said. “I’m afraid I don’t know what else to do beyond that.”

A makeshift heating pad really was the best he could do. He had toyed with the idea of giving the Niffler some kind of potion, but he wasn’t confident that a critter this small could handle something that potent.

He was going on the theory that the robes wrapped around the Niffler would hopefully create an incubator effect, and it would bring him back and show some improvement in him within a few minutes.

Aesop knew that there wasn’t much else that he could do for the Niffler. It was up to time and fate at this point, and for your sake and the Niffler’s, he hoped it wasn’t too late.

You had gone quiet now other than an occasional sniff and sigh. Aesop watched the way that you were so attentive and focused on this Niffler. This was tugging on your heartstrings for sure, and he just hoped that he wouldn’t have to see what would happen to you if the Niffler didn’t make it.

He wanted to console you, yet he didn’t think he was doing a very good job of it. It was something he was working on. He was learning to be more sensitive and not so dismissive in situations like this.

While a nearly frozen to death Niffler wasn’t a big deal to him, it was extremely important to you. And if it was important to you, then it was important to Aesop too.

The next four or five minutes passed, and neither of you said anything. You were both silently monitoring the Niffler, anxiously awaiting any show of improvement. Aesop was nonchalant each time he checked to make sure he was still breathing and had a heartbeat. He didn’t want to do anything too urgently and make you more upset.

It was touch and go for a little while. It couldn’t have been more than seven or eight minutes total, but it felt like an eternity. Aesop had never tried to save the life of a Niffler before, and he had never felt more helpless than just waiting for something to happen…or not happen.

But just when he was beginning to feel defeated, the Niffler’s shivering began to slow down and he started making more consistent movements and sounding out a few squeaks.

Whatever he had done, it was working.

“What do Nifflers eat?” Aesop asked, stroking the fur on the head of the Niffler, trying to comfort him so that he wasn’t completely panicked when he fully woke up.

“They’re herbivores. Roots, shrubs, and weeds mainly,” You let out a shaky breath, but hope was returning to your eyes. “And treats too.”

“Do they eat dandelion roots?” He inquired.

You nodded, and Aesop took his next course of action.

“There’s a few jars of dandelion roots in the closet. Would you bring one?” He requested.

“Where in the closet?” You asked.

“Left side of the wall, second shelf.” He instructed.

There was a swiftness in your legs as you all but sprinted to the closet, quickly locating the roots exactly where he had said.

“He will likely be famished when he starts coming around. It’s best to have something for him to eat,” He said once you had returned to his side with the jar. “He’s going to need the nourishment.”

He was showing improvement. His movements and noises were becoming more frequent, which was a good sign.

“Nifflers are hyperactive when indoors,” You said. “He’s going to freak out when he fully wakes up and realizes he’s far from home.”

“I don’t think that’s likely. It’s going to take some time for him to feel energized again,” He remarked. “I just hope he doesn’t spot anything shiny around. I do know that they go ballistic over anything of that nature.”

Aesop felt relief when you laughed at that. It was a small one, but genuine. You were feeling better, which made him feel better.

The Niffler’s snout began to twitch, his eyelids slowly opening to reveal his black, shining eyes. He blinked a few times, confused as to why two human faces were in front of him.

“It’s alright…you’re okay.” You used your softest voice to soothe the Niffler.

Aesop screwed the lid off of the jar, the clinking noise causing the Niffler to twitch in surprise. Aesop kept his movements slow and calculated. He didn’t want to startle him any more than he already was.

“Do Nifflers bite?” He asked as he removed a singular root from the jar.

“Not usually, no.” You said, continuing to speak sweetly to the Niffler.

Aesop was hoping that you were right, because he didn’t want to have his finger chomped on as repayment. Nonetheless, he offered the dandelion root to him, waiting curiously for a response.

The Niffler raised his head, taking a few sniffs before beginning to nibble on the end of it. There was no telling when he had eaten last, and based on how quickly he was chewing through it, Aesop guessed that it had been quite a while.

The Niffler made it through about half the jar before he sounded out a small belch, followed by a satisfied hiccup.

“That should perk him up,” He couldn’t help but grin when the Niffler nuzzled its head into his hand. “He looks better.”

He did indeed look better. Within five or ten minutes, he would be wreaking havoc and making a mess of this Potions classroom.

Aesop stood from his chair, standing tall and turning to face you. Not only did the Niffler look better, but so did you.

“I believe that your new friend is going to be just fine,” He declared, his small smile shining with pride. “No more tears, hm?”

He swiped at the last of your tears, pressing a kiss to your forehead with a hum. He knew that you would be okay now, but you had spooked him something awful.

“You really think he’ll be okay?” You sniffed.

“I do, but I suggest that you try to track down Professor Howin again and have her take a look at him.” He advised.

“Alright,” You scooped up the Niffler, keeping your robes wrapped around him snugly. “I’ll check her classroom again.”

He nodded, giving the Niffler one last scratch on his head. He seemed to like Aesop…that or he was just grateful for the dandelion roots.

“Thanks for helping him,” You almost glowed. “I’m really happy you did.”

That gave him a bigger sense of pride than saving the Niffler. There was nothing that he wanted more than to make you happy. He worked towards making sure you were comfortable, happy, and well. Suddenly, all the anxiety and stress of keeping a Niffler alive was well worth it.

“Once you’ve left him with Professor Howin, why don’t you come back here? Take a break for a little while,” He said. “And you can tell me all about your new broom.”

“Okay,” You smiled, and his heart fluttered. “I’ll be back.”

You turned to leave and continue your search for Professor Howin, but he stopped you before you made it far.

“Before you go…” He said, retreating to the closet. He rummaged around for a moment, but returned with an article of clothing in his hands. “Put this on. Please?”

You swapped the Niffler for the dark blue sweater, slipping it over your head and straightening it once it was on. It smelled like Firewhisky and sandalwood…Aesop Sharp’s signature scent.

He kissed the crown of your head once he returned the Niffler to you, his hands giving your shoulders a playful squeeze.

“Alright. Much better. I’ll see you in a minute.” He sent you on your way.

He returned to sit at his desk once you were out the door, a long sigh escaping from his chest. He chuckled to himself. What in the world had happened to him?

He couldn’t believe that he, the infamous and hardened master potioneer, was now bundling up frozen Nifflers and feeding them from his personal ingredients inventory.

He was suddenly filled with so much love and joy just by you thanking him for doing something seemingly so small…something that never would’ve moved him in such a way before.

He had changed much more than he originally realized.

And he was very, very thankful for it.

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