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aesopsharpmybeloved · 1 year

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Some Like It Sharp

You and professor Sharp became very close after the events of your fifth year at Hogwarts. Just how close is unspoken for a long time. Until it isn't.

I know I should be writing father Paul, but I started playing Hogwarts Legacy and became a little addicted. And then I went to potions class. I saw professor Sharp, in all his limping scarred glory and immediately thought 'Oh. Oh no...' And that was that.

EDIT: I MANAGED TO ADD SOME VOICELINES ON AO3

tw: age difference (reader is 17-18, which is of age in the wizarding world), student-teacher relationship, mentions of trauma (emotional and physical)

Some Like It Sharp

(8.6k words)

You sighed deeply as your brow furrowed in concentration. Six finely crushed snake fangs soon disappeared in your cauldron. Momentarily, you lifted your eyes and gazed longingly at the person across the room from you. Professor Aesop Sharp was sitting at his round desk, a quill in his hand and a stack of third years’ essays in front of him. Every now and then, you could hear him utter a soft ‘tsk’, his dark hair bouncing as he shook his head. Even in his annoyance he was beautiful, you thought. Despite being a Slytherin, he reminded you of a lion, so strong and proud, not even his obvious limp was able to tarnish the image.

“Miss (L/N).” sounded right next to your ear, making you jump and turn your head towards the voice. Your wide startled eyes connected with professor Sharp’s own intense dark orbs. ‘When did he move?’ you thought, your heart in your throat.

“Miss, (L/N), I believe I asked you to brew a cure for boils. However, whatever concoction is currently in your cauldron looks more like it would cause them. Care to explain yourself?”

You hurriedly looked down at your cauldron and discovered the potion master was right. Instead of the orange hue the potion should have at this stage, it was a rather distasteful shade of swamp green. ‘How could this have happened?’

“Sir,” you began meekly, “I’m sorry, I don't know-... I think I got-”

“Distracted?” asked professor Sharp matter of factly, his voice lacking any sort of the annoyance it’d usually have. “Do tell, Miss (L/N),” he started circling around you like a predator, his lame leg not making the motion any less intimidating, “do you feel like my classes are so boring, or so easy, perhaps, that you can afford to daydream while ruining a first year potion?”

Your eyes hadn't left him for a second. You shivered involuntarily. You were the only person in the classroom. ‘When did everyone leave?’ “No, sir, I- O-of course not, I-?”

A single long digit pressed against your slightly open mouth, effectively cutting your eloquent speech short. Sharp stood in front of you now, and you felt your cheeks turning red. You exhaled shakily. “Daydreaming in my class… I don’t think detention is enough of a punishment. Do you?” Sharp practically purred into your ear, his acute words said in an almost teasing manner. He was so close now, so close you felt his hot breath on your neck as he spoke, his forefinger replaced by his thumb on your mouth, and he pulled the lower lip down, opening your mouth further.

You couldn't speak, only able to stare at his mouth as he pulled back slightly to look at you. A small smile appeared on his face and he finally moved forward, sealing his mouth over your own and immediately pushing his tongue inside. You gasped, but almost right away threw your hands around his neck and succumbed to his bruising kiss.

“(F/N),” he sighed once you had to part for breath. You smiled at him and wanted to connect your lips once more. Only then -

“(F/N)! Come on, wake up, we’re going to be late for Transfiguration!” you heard someone call out.

“What?” you asked and looked around. You weren’t in the potions classroom, nor were you standing in professor Sharp’s embrace. You weren’t standing at all, actually. Your dormitory’s light blue walls appeared before your eyes, as well as an annoyed face of Samantha Dale.

—

"You are so lucky I forgot my homework upstairs!" panted Samantha, "Otherwise I would have gone straight to class after breakfast. And you'd still be asleep." You were pretty much running, not wanting to be late for professor's Weasley's class, yet you casted a grateful smile in Samantha's direction: "You are a lifesaver, Sam."

Samantha kept rambling on, as she usually did, but your mind was still focused on your dream.

You and professor Sharp had gotten particularly close during the past year and a half. Ever since your last battle with Ranrok, the potions master treated you a little differently. Most of the professors did, of course, but you found a sense of peace with Sharp especially.

You missed professor Fig every day. He was something of a father figure for you nearly from day one, and you felt all sorts of broken watching him die in your arms.

The first time professor Sharp invited you into his office outside of class, you felt strangely numb still, your exhaustion and grief leaving you with what felt like a hole in your heart. Some of the other professors sat you down before them previously, and you forced yourself to fake a little smile and persuade them that you were alright.

It didn’t work on Sharp. He didn’t pry, didn’t force you to relive the painful memories as you thought he would. Instead his chatter was nearly light, talking about your school work, hobbies, the various activities outside of the castle, even talking about himself every once in a while. Soon you realised you found solace in your conversations.

Only when you were given time to heal did you dare to actually talk about what happened that day… That year, really. Professor Sharp listened quietly, never pressing for details you weren’t ready to give, only asking for further explanation sometimes.

—

The first time you broke down in tears before him, he stood to limp over to you. With a steady warm hand on your shoulder, he conjured up a handkerchief and pressed it into your palm. You thanked him and tried to get yourself under control once more. He didn’t say anything, only drew small circles into your shoulder with his thumb.

After you left his office that evening, you realised just how hungry you were. It hit you by surprise, really, you hadn’t felt this hungry since that fateful day. You’d eat when it was meal time, but all food tasted the same to you. This evening, however, when you put some chicken with rice on your plate, you tasted every single spice used, the meat falling apart on your tongue. You groaned audibly and let your eyes close.

“Heh, good to see you getting your appetite back!” said Amit across from you, a sweet smile on his face. Your cheeks a little red in embarrassment, you smiled back at him before diving into your meal once more.

It struck you later that night as you were lying in your bed, staring into the darkness. Sharp knew exactly how to help you, because he knew what you were likely going through. All of the professors had their stories, some of them experienced loss as well, but only Sharp had ever gone through something as traumatic as yourself. Maybe he behaved towards you the way he would’ve wished someone behaved towards him before, back when his partner died on the job and he barely escaped with his life.

—

The next evening, you were back in his office. He accepted you wordlessly, curiously peeking at a small bag you brought with you. Inside of it were various rare ingredients you collected on your adventures or harvested in the Room of Requirement. The potions master took them with a quiet ‘thank you’ and that was that. He didn’t ask where you got them and how, knowing that as your teacher, he might not like your answer. But he was grateful, you knew. It didn’t need to be spoken in order to be understood.

Back when you first met him, you understood why some may find him intimidating, why he rubs them the wrong way. Sharp was strict, with a no-nonsense kind of attitude. He was hard on his students, and when he saw potential in them, he was even harder, striving for perfection. But the more time you spent with him, the more you saw the undeniable kindness within him. As cutting as his critique could be, his praises filled you with a great sense of pride and accomplishment. They pushed you to try even harder, to make him proud.

Little by little, it began to make no sense to you why some students found him evil, or even outright foul. Professor Sharp was anything but evil and foul.

In a way, you expected him to become a parental figure to you as well, like professor Fig was. Only, he didn’t. It frightened you the first time you looked at him and caught yourself thinking that you’d like to press your palm against his cheek, feel his prickly looking stubble, trace the scar on his face. “Something the matter, miss (L/N)?” he asked with a lifted brow. Your cheeks flushed in embarrassment as you hurriedly looked away, an apology leaving your mouth.

—

It got worse after that. You enjoyed spending time with him too much. You found he had a dark, dry sense of humour, that his wit was quicker than lightning and sharper than a knife, but also that he possessed a certain gentleness. You noticed his eyes would linger on your fondly when he thought you weren’t looking. It always made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

You knew that he liked to draw, having been in his private chambers when you were searching for those blasted demiguise statues (not that you’d ever tell him), but having him actually showing them to you felt strangely intimate. The passage through his fireplace you had to crawl through turned into a large doorway after he tapped it with the tip of his wand. He said he can’t always make it upstairs if the pain in his leg is too much, but he nevertheless enjoyed spending time there. You were fairly certain you were the first person he showed his work to.

You saw a few drawings you didn’t recognise, as you hadn’t been to his chambers since - it was mostly parts of Hogwarts, a few scribbles of Hogsmeade as well. However, there was also a number of various paintings of beasts, hippogriffs, graphorns and such. You smiled when he showed you, already knowing you wouldn’t be meeting in his chambers the next time.

—

His curiosity was obviously peaked, as he accepted your request to wait for you in the seventh floor corridor, by the troll tapestry. You winced slightly when you saw him leaning against the wall, the stairs obviously not doing anything for his leg. Yet, when he acknowledged your presence, you offered him a reassuring smile, hoping what you were about to show him would make it up to him.

He watched you pace three times in front of the tapestry, his brow raised in question. You grinned when his dark eyes widened at the sight of a door materialising seemingly out of nowhere. You opened it and entered. “Come in, sir,” you said, turning to face him. He hobbled over, his right hand twitching as if he wanted to reach for his wand. Always vigilant.

With no small amount of satisfaction, you watched as his mouth opened in surprise of your Room of Requirement, eyes trying to take in as much as they could, utterly disbelieving. His gaze was caught by a large potion station on one side of the room, directly next to a herbology table, where your various magical plants were currently being watered.

“Ah, you’re back,” came a high pitched voice from somewhere, “Deek thinks it’s almost time to harvest the mandrakes- oh, professor Sharp!” Without looking at the house elf, still busy taking in the room, the potions master offered a small ‘Hello, Deek.’

“I will see to it. Deek, can I ask you a favour?” you smiled at him reassuringly. He replied with a smile of his own: “Of course. What can Deek do for you?” “Could you perhaps bring us some tea later? First there is something I want to show to the professor.” With a nod and a snap on his fingers, Deek was gone.

“What is this place?” asked professor Sharp, finally looking at you. “The Room of Requirement,” you replied simply, “professor Weasley showed it to me last year and urged me to use it how I see fit, mostly to aid me in my studies. Come sir, please, I do want to show you something.”

You lead the teacher up one of the staircases towards the swamp vivarium. You entered, with Sharp following close behind, slightly apprehensive at the feeling of wetness underneath his boots. This time you couldn’t conceal your chuckle as his jaw once again dropped. Your thestral friends noticed your arrival and immediately set on to welcome you. You laughed gently as the baby thestral nudged at your hand with its little skeletal beak, craving your loving touch.

With a few flicks of your wand, you brushed the animals and replenished their automatic feeder, all the while still stroking the little thestral’s head. Sepulchria, its mother, meanwhile took interest in professor Sharp, sniffing at him warily before deciding he posed no danger to her offspring.

Almost like on its own accord, Sharp’s hand travelled up to touch the mare, his calloused fingers coming to rest on her neck. “This is incredible,” he breathed out, as he caressed the creature’s glossy skin.

“When I was first able to see them, I found them a little frightening,” you admitted, conjuring a bench for the two of you to sit down on, the little one’s head immediately coming to rest on your lap, “it was right after the dragon attack, when I saw Mr Osric…” You got quiet. Professor Sharp sat next to you. Sepulchria and her mate, a male thestral you named Phobos, settled into the moist grass nearby, seeming perfectly happy to hang around while you and your teacher talked. Their offspring, Juno flapped its wings contentedly, leaning into your hand.

“Of course, I quickly learned of their good qualities,” you continued, forcing your tone to be light. “It was only after… After professor Fig died… that I found real comfort in them. They are amazing creatures, so gentle. In a way, I feel like they are exactly what a person needs to see, when they… when they watch somebody die.”

As per usual, Sharp let you speak, giving you time to gather your wits about you, think over the words you were going to say. He had no patience for fools who would bring chaos into his class, or his life, but he had all the patience with you. “They are scary at first and they have a sad aura around them… But they are here and they mean no harm. They’re a part of this world as death is a part of life. Death is not intentionally cruel, even if it sometimes forces us to go through life without some person we love.”

You heard a soft exhale next to you, then felt warmth on your free hand, as the professor’s fingers closed around it. You didn’t know how long you sat there in silence, hand in hand, just watching the skeletal equines and wandering through your own minds. “There is no without,” the potion master said suddenly, making you startle a bit. “They may not be around to talk to us, but as long as we remember them fondly, as long as we still let them guide us, they will never be really gone.”

You squeezed his hand. It was calloused and warm, and fit in yours perfectly. “I think there’s tea ready for us, sir.”

—

“Do you mind telling me where exactly are we going in the dead of night?” asked professor Sharp morosely as the two of you descended another flight of stairs in the Central hall. You didn’t know when it happened, but some time back the teacher let you support him when on stairs. As long as it was just the two of you, of course. He held onto your arm and leaned a portion of his weight on you, mindful not to step on his bad leg too much.

You wouldn’t tell him, but you loved when he did that. Having him so close, you were hyper-aware of his unique scent, which was so enchanting to you. It was like a mix between sandalwood, parchment paper and a hint of firewhiskey, and you had to restrain yourself from inhaling it deeply, so that it wouldn’t be obvious you were getting high on it. If you were to smell amortentia, you were certain this was what it’d smell like to you.

“Need I remind you that you are outside your dorm room after curfew? That’s a sure way to get you in trouble.” he quipped, no bite behind his words. “I’m with a teacher, surely an exception can be made?” you replied back, your tone light and amicable. Back when you first met him, you wouldn’t have imagined you’d share such banter with the potions master, he seemed far too serious for that. You still showed him nothing but respect in class, but outside of it, when the two of you were alone, you allowed yourself to tease him sometimes. You were always met with mild amusement and slight exasperation in reply.

Sharp sighed next to you: “I really shouldn’t encourage you in this… Should give you detention for a week, helping me grade exams.” He blinked in surprise at the happy smile you gave him: “I wouldn’t mind that.” The professor stopped walking in order to stare at you in disbelief. You felt your cheeks going red under his intense gaze. Oh no, you thought, have I said too much? Can he see right through me?

Finally, the potion master chuckled and shook his head: “You are a strange young woman, miss (L/N).”

You found yourselves on the school grounds, the cool night air making you hum contentedly. Despite no longer walking down the stairs, professor Sharp held onto your arm for support. You brought your free hand to your mouth and whistled on your fingers. A flurry of movement followed almost immediately. A gust of wind ruffled your hair as a white hippogriff landed in front of you. You let go of your teacher slowly, making sure he was prepared to stand on his own again, and approached the beast.

“Hello, Highwing,” you cooed and stroked her beak lovingly. Professor Sharp stood motionlessly, observing the majestic creature with no small amount of awe. “Poppy Sweeting introduced me to her after my first Beast class,” you explained, carding your fingers through Highwing’s soft feathers, “sometime later me and Natty rescued her and one more hippogriff from poachers led by Harlow and Rookwood. And the hippogriffs ended up saving our lives the very same night.”

Sharp listened quietly, his brows furrowed. “I think I’ll rather not ask any questions, (F/N), else I actually might give you that detention,” he said then. He didn’t call you by your first name often, but when he did, it always madea wave of fondness run through you. You wondered if you’d ever be allowed to call him Aesop. You tried rolling the name off your tongue many times when you were alone, deciding it was a beautiful name and that it fit him perfectly.

Carefully balancing himself on his good leg, he gave a deep bow to the beast, knowing how proud they were. A few seconds passed before Highwing deemed his action courteous enough to reply in kind.

The potions master hobbled towards her slowly, extending a hand to pat her feathered neck. He did startle however, when you nimbly climbed atop the creature, settling comfortably between its grand wings. “What are you doing, miss (L/N)?” he asked, narrowing his eyes when you offered your hand to him. “Please sir,” you spoke quietly, your smile seemingly glowing even in the darkness around you two, “trust me.”

He debated with himself whether he finally went mad. It was nearly midnight, and while summer was quickly approaching, the nights were still rather cold. He was standing on school grounds and a student was proposing to him with, what, a hippogriff ride? He was way too old for this. Yet, as he looked at your extended hand and the positively beaming look on your face, he sighed. He probably was mad.

The potions master took your hand and marvelled at your strength as you seemed to have absolutely no problem pulling him up and behind you. Only now it hit him that he didn’t take into consideration where he’d put his hands. Very awkwardly, he placed them on each side of your waist.

Feeling the steady warmth of his body against your back made a rush of blood course through you, and you were suddenly glad to not be able to look at him. Your cheeks were so hot and red, he’d be able to figure you out immediately. You craved to enjoy the feeling of his hands on you, and even thought about buying a pensieve, just so you could watch the memory of this again and again.

You shook your head. There would be time for that later. Right now, you dragged him all the way out here and onto a hippogriff, might as well give him a brilliant memory too.

“Highwing, go!” you called out, grabbing onto the beast’s neck more tightly. The hippogriff cried and stood on its hind legs before breaking into a gallop. Professor Sharp cursed next to your ear and finally wrapped his arms around your waist fully. Propriety be damned, the teacher doubted falling off a racing hippogriff would do any good to his leg. Or any other part of him, really. Highwing spread her wings, their span positively huge, and Sharp felt they were no longer on the cobblestone path.

The flapping of wings forced the professor to close his eyes as they soared higher and higher. Then it stopped and Aesop finally looked. His breath caught in his throat. He remembered flying around on his broom when he was a student himself, but it suddenly struck him that he never did so at night.

It was ethereally beautiful. The moon shone on the great castle, white glow reflecting on the roofs. There were lights on in various parts of the castle. It stood under them in all its glory, sure and steady, yet ever changing. The castle was like a living organism, stony body, a kind soul and a heart constantly drumming with magic, holding so many secrets within the historical walls, Aesop was sure that even if he lived to be two hundred years old, he’d never be able to discover all of them.

It was so serene, yet so humbling, the professor momentarily felt weightless, not feeling his blasted leg at all, for once free of all of his guilt, of all the pain he ever experienced.

He didn’t realise he was squeezing you closer, that his chin was leaning on your shoulder. Something you were very much aware of, trying your best not to tremble under his touch. It was both salvation and damnation and you found yourself thinking how easy it would be to just turn your head to the side and capture his lips. You held yourself back, gently bumping his head with your own instead.

Highwing slowly descended above the murky waters of the Black lake. Sharp saw the giant squid thrust one tentacle above the surface, as if greeting the three of you. Feeling impossibly young, he laughed, and he laughed until his lungs hurt. You laughed with him, releasing a giddy whoop, when the hippogriff decided it was time to take to the skies again.

You eventually landed on a coast south of Hogwarts. Professor Sharp felt his spirits dampen somewhat at the sight of you flawlessly leaping from the beast’s back and onto the ground, your movements noble and elegant, and so youthful. Yet, once you looked at him, all smiles and messed up hair, a grin broke on his face as well. He let you help him down, his good leg taking most of the blow of impact with the ground.

Nevertheless, he winced. Oh, he was going to need at least two phials of Wiggenweld potion once he was back in his chambers. Trying to push his pain away, he spoke in a light tone: “So, that’s what you’ve been doing when you were supposed to be in the castle? In bed?” You gave him a little guilty smile: “Sometimes. You’ve got to admit, though, this is rather exhilarating.”

The professors sighed and leaned against a nearby boulder: “As your teacher, I should really be condemning this sort of behaviour instead of encouraging it… However, you’re right. It was exhilarating. And very beautiful. I am thankful for the experience.”

He scanned his surroundings, moonlight illuminating the area enough for Aesop to be sure you wouldn’t get ambushed by some poacher, or a pack of mongrels.

When he was sure the two of you were alone, he sat on a nearby boulder, content to rest for a bit.

The professor watched as you picked up a pebble using your wand, and made it skip over the dark water. You truly were something else. He was aware that the amount of time he spent with you was frankly inappropriate, seeing as you were his student, but he just couldn’t help it. The potion master did try to put some distance between you in the past, but it was no use. You’d always come find him and he couldn’t turn you away.

He didn’t know when he stopped trying to set this distance. Maybe when the last couple of times it was him who caved in. Him, who invited you over for a cup of tea, unsure whether he’d be more glad if you accepted, or if you refused. Never once did you refuse. He realised that such distance was actually the last thing he wanted, that you actually became… friends. Close friends.

He angrily shushed the little voice in his head that tried to ask ‘Just friends?’.

Oh yes. That was the reason he wanted to set the distance, how could he have forgotten?

You turned seventeen some time ago, officially of age, but that didn’t make Aesop feel any better. You were very mature for your age, and probably have been for a long time. He had no problem seeing you as his equal, despite you being so much younger than him. But as he watched you skipping stone after stone, he could feel his guilt suffocating him, seeing tiny traces of the child you stopped being when you watched your mentor die before your eyes.

He should probably mount the hippogriff, fly really high up and throw himself off the beast. But oh, how much he longed to join you at the bank and wrap a protective arm around you.

“Sir? Are you alright?” you noticed him staring at you, and saw him cough awkwardly. “We should probably head back,” the potions master decided then, slowly hobbling over to Highwing, who seemed to be happily hunting for squirrels since your arrival.

He enjoyed holding you to him while he could. He didn’t actually want to plummet to his death after all, so it was perfectly acceptable to grip you tight.

“Are you sure you’re alright, professor? You don’t want me to walk you to your chambers?” you asked with worry in your voice. Highwing’s form was rapidly disappearing in the dark sky. “I am quite well. You should go to your dormitory. Probably best to use the disillusionment charm as well.”

He didn’t know if the smile you gave him then made him want to laugh or cry, your eyes were filled with such fondness and wonder, Aesop honestly felt like the very air around him got warmer. He wasn't ready when you grasped his hand: “Thank you, sir. I’m glad you joined me tonight.” Oh. And the professor definitely wasn’t ready for you to get up on your tiptoes to press your lips against his left cheek, right where his scar ended.

Not a second later you were nearly translucent and slowly getting away from him. “Miss (L/N)! Detention.” he called after you. You had the audacity to giggle, before the door to the Entrance hall opened and you slipped in.

—-

Aesop Sharp knew he was playing with fire when he responded to your letters that summer. It was the summer before your seventh year. He very nearly had a heart attack when a greater sooty owl appeared on his windowsill one morning, bearing a letter with your handwriting. There was no address, just his name. Seeing as he lived quite close to Hogwarts, it really wasn’t that much of a surprise the owl was able to find him.

He gave it some food and water, a single digit coming to scratch under its head. It leaned into his touch. A beautiful bird, indeed. Aesop briefly wondered whether you managed to find it from some exotic breeder in England, or if it truly was an Aussie owl. It was also a clever one, wouldn’t leave without a reply and would get increasingly more anxious for him to at least open the letter.

He tried to put it off, afraid of what he was to find there. The letter sat on a table in his dining room and he’d regularly come to stare at it morosely, as if willing it to open without having to touch it. The breaking point came late in the evening. The bird would leap onto his left shoulder and peck at his scar rather painfully, before jumping onto the table and standing in front of the letter, giving him a pointed look.

The bloody beast had an attitude!

“Yes, yes, you’ve made your point clear!” he growled in its general direction and shooed her off with his hand. He sat down and summoned his pen knife. He knew he was stalling, cutting the pristine white envelope open much slower than he usually would. Sharp was immediately hit with the sweet smell of your perfume.

Finally, he pulled the letter out and unfolded it.

Why in Salazar’s name had he been so terrified?

You mostly described how you summer was thus far, confirming his suspicion that you indeed bought your owl in Australia. Her name was Diana apparently. You also promised to bring him some potion ingredients which were exclusive to the country, some of them so obscure Aesop had to look them up in his copy of Moste Potente Potions. Oh, how he looked forward to experimenting with them. Maybe some of them would be the key in discovering the cure for his leg!

You finished your letter with a wish that his summer was lovely as well, and that you were looking forward to seeing him again.

When he finished reading, Aesop put his head into his hands and smiled at the same time. He was in a bit of a pickle, wasn’t he?

You wrote letters to each other for the remainder of the summer. Aesop soon learned Diana only cared that he read your letters quickly, but was alright with him taking his time to actually answer them. Most of the letters were quite professional, discussing potions, your upcoming seventh year (actually your third year at Hogwarts), the NEWT subjects you’d take exams from, and possible future careers. Professor Sharp didn’t worry about the letters - there wasn’t a school rule prohibiting a teacher to be friends with a student, as long as it didn’t collide with their education or professional relationship.

The fact that there also wasn’t a rule prohibiting a teacher to engage with an adult student romantically was left unsaid somewhere deep in his mind.

—

Aesop Sharp and most of the teachers and staff arrived at Hogwarts two weeks before the start of term. Matilda would soon be sending out shopping lists and acceptance letters. He was rather glad he wasn’t the one hand delivering these letters to Muggleborns - not that he ever believed in the ‘pure blood’ nonsense, he just wasn’t feeling up to running around Britain and Ireland to explain magic to Muggles. Matilda was kind enough to leave him out of that. Though, he had a reason to believe she did so not because of his leg, but because of the possibility he might actually scare the children into not attending.

Thankfully for everyone, this year’s Muggleborns would be taken care of by Mirabel and Abraham, who were way more enthusiastic about this task than Aesop would ever be.

—

Professor Sharp felt rather foolish, actually.

He stood in Potage's Cauldron Shop, instructing the clerk to send his newly purchased silver and brass cauldrons to Hogwarts, all the while looking through the window hoping to catch a glimpse of you. You didn’t tell him when you’d be visiting Diagon Alley to pick up the textbooks you needed this year, but Aesop kind of hoped to run into you anyway.

He sighed deeply once he left the rather stuffy shop. He could’ve easily ordered all of today's purchases from the comfort of his own office, but no, he’s going to act like a lovestruck teenager instead. The professor frowned. At least he took his cane today, he thought grimly as he hobbled over to the Leaky Cauldron, more than ready to eat something, and possibly even improve his mood with a drop of firewhisky.

He did feel better with a stomach full of hare stew and nursing his third glass, when a voice he missed all summer sounded right behind him.

“Hello, professor Sharp. Fancy seeing you here,” Aesop’s head snapped to the left. There you were. And you were breathtaking. Clad in a lovely dark green dress which fell to your ankles, with pristine white collar and sleeves. Upon your head sat a stylish wizard hat decorated with late summer flowers. The potions master was used to seeing you in your uniform, and occasionally in an ensemble of blouses and trousers that allowed you to move freely.

Now you were garbed in the pinnacle of late 19th century fashion, looking like an elegant lady of high society. And what an absolutely beautiful lady at that. “Miss (L/N),” he replied, a little out of breath. You gave him a kittenish grin, betraying your otherwise mature appearance a little: “Mind if I join you?” Aesop stood with some difficulty and motioned to an empty chair opposite of him: “by all means, miss, sit.”

You sat down together and soon shared a little toast - the professor with another glass (last one, drinking more would be terribly unwise) and his young friend with a goblet of rosé. For a while, neither of you said anything.

“You look… well,” said Aesop then, cursing himself for not being able to come up with anything better, “your dress is lovely.” You gave him another smile: “Thank you. My mother insisted that I should wear it. ‘A proper lady’, she said. Between you and me, I cannot wait to get out of this thing. The lace is itchy and I’m rather surprised I haven’t passed out from oxygen deficiency yet, seeing as how tight my corset is tied.”

Professor Sharp shook his head - he never understood why Muggle women willingly used these torture devices on themselves. “Got everything you need for the start of term?” he asked instead. “I do,” you replied, “it was a lot. I’m happy to be able to do magic outside of school now, and make it all fit in here.” You patted your handbag fondly.

Aesop didn’t know how much time passed. You told him about your summer in detail (as you usually kept your letters short and to the point), talking about your visit to Australia for quite a while. He was happy to listen, your voice music to his ears. The way you spoke, carried yourself, your gesticulations - you were a grown woman. The little slips into child-like manners (a grin here, a wild hand motion there) were not those of an actual child - it was simply your personality. Mature, yet youthful, wise, yet passionate.

And the way you sometimes looked at him, when you thought he couldn’t see. It gave him hope. It terrified him. It made him want to lay his hand atop yours on the table. Made him want to reach over, grab your face and press his mouth on your own. He did nothing. He only smiled at you.

It was dark outside once you parted ways. You held his hand and said how much you’re looking forward to his classes and his company again. You promised to hand deliver him the ingredients you got him. He nearly forgot his cane in the pub.

With a final smile and a loud crack, you disapparated.

Aesop stood before Hogwarts gate, not five minutes later. He missed supper, but didn’t find it in himself to care. He made his way to his chambers, all the alcohol he drank long gone from his system. He actually looked forward to the beginning of term when it meant having you around.

What in Salazar’s name was he going to do next year?

—

In Aesop’s eyes, you were exceptionally beautiful. Unfortunately for him, however, some of your peers seemed to share this opinion. The astronomy obsessed boy from your house gazed at you like you were a holy picture. Sebastian Sallow seemed intent on having all of your attention for himself, constantly finding new ways to keep you entertained and get into trouble. Even the Gaunt boy, while lacking eyesight, seemed to somehow sense your desirability. Aesop just prayed it wouldn’t be Garreth Weasley who caught your fancy.

Each time he overheard someone (usually boys, occasionally a girl) asking you out, his heart closed in on itself and only started beating properly again after your (very gentle) refusal of their proposition. And then it would dance with bliss when you’d turn up on his doorstep instead.

Ever since that afternoon in Diagon Alley, those unspoken words between the two of you gained in intensity. More familiar touches occurred. Sometimes you’d hold his hand when you spoke of your extracurricular adventures. Aesop would run his thumb over its back, listening intently. It always took him by surprise how much trust you had in him, seeing as both of you were aware some of your escapades would result in loss of points and plenty of detentions. Never from him, though.

—

One time you held him to you, his head cradled into your neck. You came to his quarters at a bad time. His leg was acting up and his potions weren’t helping. His pain induced desperation was made worse by his guilt. What was he thinking? He was a cripple, entirely too old for you. You deserved better. Even that blasted Weasley boy would have been better for you than him. He should never have looked at you like he did. It was quite normal for a student to develop a crush on their teacher (the stories Mirabel could tell), but the teacher shouldn’t indulge the student. Aesop was nothing but indulgent with you.

He tried to send you away when he heard your knocking that evening. His pain and despair must have found way into his voice, because you didn’t leave. You came right in and locked the door behind you. He snapped at you, told you to get out of his chambers. You disobeyed and came even closer.

You kneeled before him, your eyes kind and full of compassion. His own were filled with tears that would never be shed. Aesop didn’t cry anymore. He was close to it today though. You massaged the muscles in his leg after you've applied a heating charm to the fabric of his trousers. His head hung low in guilt and shame, and Sharp hoped you would just leave. He was pitiful and you deserved better, why wouldn’t you leave him to his misery?

You didn’t leave. Of course you didn’t. He shouldn’t have thought for a single second that a witch who defeated a troll during her first week in school, after living as a muggle for nearly 16 years, would just leave. She held him, pulled him to her entirely. He could smell her perfume, felt her nimble fingers in his hair. Heard her soft voice shushing him, trying to bring him comfort. He allowed himself to wrap his arms around her. Aesop cried.

—

“Have you given any more thought to your future after you finish school?” he asked one day. Snow was falling outside, staff and students were preparing for the Christmas holidays. Behind him, sitting in one of his armchairs, you sighed. “It’s complicated,” you admitted then, “I’d rather be a curse breaker for Gringotts than an Auror, that’s for sure. No offence.” He grinned. “None taken. I’d like to be able to say that I’m glad you’d choose something safer than the Auror office. However, curse breaking is not exactly much safer, is it?” Finally he turned to look at you: “You didn’t take into consideration… shopkeeping, perhaps?”

The look you gave him was almost enough to make him laugh. He settled for turning the corners of his mouth slightly upwards. “With all due respect, sir, can you imagine me behind the counter the entire day, promoting fantastic new sales and gossipping with witches on maternity leaves?” Sharp couldn’t hold it in anymore and chuckled openly. “Point taken,” he agreed.

“You know you can change careers later in life, right? Don’t have to be stuck doing one thing forever…” you gave him a questioning look, waiting for him to elaborate. “Listen, professor Hecat is… still battling time itself. And she isn’t winning. There will come a time when a new professor for Defence Against the Dark Arts is needed. And if you excel in your NEWTs the way you did in your OWLs…” Your mouth opened in disbelief: “Are you saying I could someday teach in Hogwarts?”

He sat down into an armchair opposite of you, propping his bad leg on a footstool. “You possess the skill and the knowledge. I dare say you love this castle, this school. And you’d be able to venture out into the Forbidden forest as you do, without me having to turn a blind eye to it anymore.” You grinned into the flames in his hearth. Getting slightly more comfortable by crossing your legs you let the warmth seep into your skin.

“I still don’t feel like shopkeeping, though.”

—

You and Samantha made it inside the Transfiguration classroom just as professor Weasley went to close the door. You were out of breath and red like salamanders, both from the running and the cold outside.

“Girls, girls,” chided professor Weasley, “I would expect punctuality in your seventh year.” “It’s my fault, professor,” you panted out, “I overslept. Samantha would’ve been here long ago if it wasn’t for me.” Professor Weasley shook her head and motioned the two of you to sit.

—

“I cannot wait to visit Matabeleland again,” said Natty with a smile. You knew she had her reasons to not want to go where her father died defending her before, but now that she made peace with her past and was officially an adult, she wanted to revisit her happier childhood memories. “Me and gran are going to Arizona. We’re hoping to encounter Thunderbirds there,” spoke Poppy then, “What about you, what will you be doing?”

You looked up at the sky and smiled. “Actually, I think I’ll stay at Hogwarts. I really took on a lot of work this year, and I’d like to focus on it in peace.” It was only partly true. The main reason was that you wanted to spend as much time as possible with your favourite professor. Unbeknownst to your friends, the bag you carried on your shoulder contained a neatly wrapped Christmas present (a beautiful set of drawing kohls), a bottle of firewhiskey said to be absolutely brilliant (courtesy of Sirona) and a very special letter you were hoping to present to your teacher on Christmas Eve.

You came to see Hogwarts as your home. You were able to wander through the highlands for hours at a time, exploring every nook and cranny. If someone were to use Prior Incantato on your wand at any given time, the last spell would most likely be Revelio. Now that your time as a student was slowly coming to an end, you realised just how much you’d miss being here. In a way, you were envious of those who got to attend the full seven years. Your solace was knowing that you wouldn’t ever be too far from your home.

There was no without.

—

“Good evening, professor,” you beamed at the scarred man. He smiled back and stepped aside from the door, a wordless invitation. You took him in appreciatively. It wasn’t often you’d see the potions master so dressed down, cladded only in his white shirt, vest and trousers. His tie was loosened, jacket and coat hanging by the door in the other room.

You fished the present out of your bag. “This is for you to unwrap tomorrow,” you said, settling it aside on a nearby table, “but I see no reason we shouldn’t try this out right now.” He grinned at the sight of the bottle of obviously very expensive liquor. “Hope nobody saw you smuggle this in. It’s alright to have a glass in Diagon Alley, outside of term. Here however, I believe this would get you into all sorts of trouble with the deputy headmistress,” his voice was teasing and he was already fetching two glasses. “It’s Christmas holidays, we are out of term. We just so happen to be in the castle,” you quipped back.

You held the glasses while he poured. “Well, miss (L/N)... (F/N). All the best for the rest of your time in Hogwarts, and even better for your next adventure. Wherever it may take you. I am glad to have met you, and proud to be your teacher. And your friend.” You didn’t call him out on the ‘friend’ part just yet, choosing to take a sip of your drink instead.

You immediately made a face and began coughing.

Aesop stood before you, chuckling. “Wow,” you said once you caught your breath, “that’s horrible.” The potions master’s chuckles turned into laughter. “Luckily for you,” he said after you made a show of pushing your glass towards him along with the rest of the bottle, “I think of everything.” A bottle of some floral wine entered your vision, uncorked itself and poured a sensible amount into a conjured up goblet. You drank, rolling the light liquid over your tongue.

“Fixed your taste?” asked Sharp, still smirking. You nodded: “I no longer feel like I’m about to die, so that’s good. Anyway, there’s one more thing I wanted to show you.” You walked over to the armchairs in front of the hearth. Professor Sharp followed and sat across from you. You held a scroll in your right hand and offered it to him.

Aesop put his glass down and reached for the scroll curiously. Unrolling it, he read out loud:

Brood and Peck

Hogsmeade

Dear Miss (F/N) (L/N),

We are pleased to inform you that you were admitted to apprenticeship at Brood and Peck, Hogsmeade, beginning on 3rd July 1893 at 8 o’clock in the morning.

All equipment necessary for your apprenticeship will be provided for you on the spot.

We are looking forward to our cooperation.

Yours sincerely,

Ellie Peck

Aesop Sharp was looking at you wide-eyed. “I thought about what you said, about the DADA position,” you said, your cheeks turning red under his intense gaze. “I thought… I thought you said you didn’t see yourself in a shop,” he said, still in a daze. “That’s the best thing,’ you smiled at him, “I won’t be in a shop. I’ll be rescuing beasts and taking care of them, collecting byproducts and bringing them to Ellie. I also made a deal with Pippin to bring him any useful potion ingredients I find.

“I’ll have a bit of money and I’ll be close by. And I’ll be running around the highlands most of the time, which is pretty much exactly what I do now, except without the schoolwork,” you chuckled. Aesop’s expression was unreadable. “What made you decide to stay?” he asked finally, his voice so quiet you barely heard it over the crackling fire. There was the moment, the moment of truth you’ve been waiting for. You gathered your courage.

“There were a lot of reasons. But the biggest one is… you. The more I thought of it, the more the mere idea I’d be somewhere far away from you, unable to see you maybe months at a time, terrifies me. Saddens me.” You sighed then. “What I’m trying to say… I am in love with you, and have been for some time, and I’d like to be close to you. If you’ll have me.”

Professor Sharp’s eyes were glistening. He said nothing for the longest time and you were getting worried.

“Please, professor, think of my words before you refuse me. I know that I am young, but I am of age and I know what I want in life. It’s not just some silly crush, I genuinely believe we could… that we could spend our lives together. You are possibly my best friend, the person I trust and admire most, and I adore you. I think of you all the time, and there’s nothing I want more than to be able to hold you, and kiss you. And be the woman you love. I love you, sir.”

He stood up with such swiftness you startled. Almost as if his leg did not trouble him in the slightest. The potions master extended his hands to you and you took them, standing up as well. He still stood taller than you and you had to look up to see into his eyes. One hand came to rest on your cheek and you unconsciously leaned into it, closing your eyes in bliss as his scent filled your nostrils.

“Aesop,” he said suddenly. “I’m sorry?” you replied, slightly dazed to have him touching you so tenderly. “I should have asked you to call me Aesop ages ago,” he explained, his other hand coming to hold your other cheek, “my dearest girl.”

He felt free, free of guilt and shame, the constant pain of his wounds falling somewhere into the background. He wouldn’t allow it to interfere with this moment. Those three words he craved to hear from you fell freely from your lips. Your eyes were blown wide and he found he could no longer resist them.

A sound made him look up. Above your bodies joined in an embrace a twig of mistletoe appeared. Hogwarts and its secrets…. “There is nothing I’d want more than to have you by my side,” he spoke quietly, the words foreign to his lips before now, but filled with utmost honesty nevertheless.

You weren’t able to wait any longer. Mirroring the teacher, you grabbed his face gently and guided him down until your lips connected. It felt like the most ancient, the purest form of magic, coursing through you as you tasted Aesop’s mouth. The alcohol was foul when drunk from glass, but on the potions master’s tongue it tasted like ambrosia, getting you more drunk than you’ve ever been, and you moaned into the kiss.

The world turned into sensations. Your fingers in his hair, his teeth squeezing your lower lip, before soothing the sting with his tongue. The solid, warm front of his body pressing into yours, his heart beating wildly against your breasts. The arms you’ve dreamed about enveloped you crushingly and you realised that you never wanted to leave them. Why would you? You were home.

You were home.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed reading. You can find this work and all of my other works on AO3. I always adore feedback!

#hogwarts #hogwarts legacy #aesop sharp #professor sharp #aesop sharp x reader #proessor sharp x reader #aesop sharp x you #professor sharp x you #fanfiction #reader insert #i love the magic cop #fluff

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loveandfictionforall · 11 months

Note

Since your wrote for Mommy Garlic would you also write something fluffy for Daddy Sharp? I wouldn‘t say no to also some spicy headcanons if you catch my drift

Professor Sharp

Being in a relationship with Professor Sharp was someimes really difficult. He does not like sharing his privacy and thus you but since you both worked in Hogwarts where not a lot of privacy was giving, it made it really strenuous.

But in the end, he was a man and he fell for you. It was really difficult for him to behave when you walked around in a rather scandalous skirt or in thight trousers. He will look at your ass and you know it.

Still, PDA is not his. Sometimes, when you walk quietly together to your rooms, he will graze your fingers against yours, lightly curling his pinky against yours.

When you two meet each others in the halls or at dinner a small bumping with shoulders can happen or when your legs are hidden, he will gently place his hand on your knee.

And sometimes he feels naughty, running his hand up to your middle, stroking your inner thigh, grinning his small smile while you tense under his touch, pressing your legs together.

Professor Sharp doesn't like to take risks or exposing your relationship but once you teased him the whole day with tight clothes and provocative poses, running your fingers against his chest and 'accidentaly' stumbling so you can lean against his chest while gazing up to him with your big eyes.

And then, once every student was in their dorms, he pulled you against a classroom door while you two were patrolling, kissing you with passion and running his fingers under your clothes. And when you finally had enough, wanting to get more, he parts from you and grins cheekily. "I will go to sleep now, I have classes early tomorrow."

#hogwarts legacy headcanons #hogwarts legacy x reader #professor sharp #professor sharp x reader #professor sharp x you #professor sharp headcanons #hogwarts legacy x you #aesop x reader #aesop sharp #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x you #aesop sharp headcanons

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in-the-shadow-of-the-blog · 5 months

Text

Under the Mistletoe with Aesop Sharp

Summary: Mistletoe above the potions master's classroom door?? (Aesop Sharp x unnamed/unspecified female character)

Rating: PG

Words: 700

A/N: I tried to be extra vague with this one, to make it easier to imagine your student/faculty/whomever OC. Hopefully it doesn't detract overall. Only had a light proofread so I apologize for any errors!

No one knew who put it there, though Garreth was the prime suspect among students. What surprised everyone the most was that Professor Sharp hadn’t removed it. A little sprig of green leaves and white berries remained fixed above the classroom doorway, the potions master striding underneath it without a glance.

"Do you think he hasn't noticed?"

"The man notices everything!"

"Why hasn't he gotten rid of it, then?"

The whispering students fell silent, looking up sheepishly to see the man in question glaring down at them.

"This rousing conversation is about your assignment, I trust?"

"Yes, Professor Sharp."

"Good."

Aesop spared them another suspicious glance before moving on to the next table.

When class had ended and the room emptied, she walked in. The very person he had been wanting to see.

"Professor Sharp?" She called out, drawing his attention from the papers on his desk.

He looked up, unable to keep the smile from his lips. The smile he wore every time he saw her face. "How may I assist you?"

"I don't suppose you have any extra dittany on hand? I've somehow let myself run out."

Aesop braced his hands on the arms of his chair as he stood. "Let me look."

She waited patiently, examining the jars and chalkboards around the classroom. Knowing Aesop hated it when someone hovered over his shoulder, she stayed back.

"Sorry, looks like I'm out as well," Aesop said behind her.

She turned in surprise, having not heard his approach. Aesop was so close, she could make out every detail of his face, the scar across his cheek, the cunning twinkle in his eye. Close enough to feel his warmth against her front.

A nervous swallow bought her just enough time to find her words. "No bother. I'll check the greenhouses."

Clearing her throat, she turned to leave the classroom, feeing Aesop's gaze on her back.

"Wait just a moment," Aesop called out.

She stopped, one foot through the doorway, and turned to look at him. Aesop approached her, a very subtle smirk forming on his lips.

"Found some." Aesop came to a stop in front of her, holding out a vial.

Her fingers close around the glass, brushing against Aesop’s palm as she takes the vial. Their eyes locked, the quiet intensity of the moment reflected in their faces. Neither of them moved, hands still indulging in the lingering touch.

Then Aesop's other hand was on her waist, pulling her close, gazing deep into her eyes. “Seems I’ve caught you under the mistletoe. We can’t break tradition, can we?”

Lips parting instinctively at his words, she glanced up at the innocuous sprig of green and white above his door, the one that had become the subject of so much gossip among the students. Good thing none of them were around to see this.

"No, we can't," she whispered back, leaning into him just enough for him to get the message of her consent.

Aesop leaned forward, lips capturing hers in a kiss that was sweet and passionate all at once. His hand cradled the back of her neck while her fingers threaded through his hair. She would happily remain like this for an eternity, letting the world slip away around them. The way Aesop's hand tugged at her hips told her he felt the same way.

A lack of air finally forced them apart, breathing heavily as Aesop pressed his forehead to hers. He had no intention of letting her go just yet. There were ten minutes before his next class, and he would not waste a single second. Not that she was trying to get away, mind.

"Were you the one who put it up there all along?" She finally asked.

Aesop shook his head. "You know me. I was hardly going to waste the opportunity."

Aesop lifted his wand, pointing it at the mistletoe above the door. Before he could cast a spell, she laid her hand on his arm, lowering it back to his side.

"Leave it," she urged. "Wouldn't it be suspicious to take it down now?"

He considered her words and nodded. "I suppose you're right. But then, cleverness is one trait I admire most in you."

While Aesop pocketed his wand, she pulled him into another kiss, stealing as much time as she could before students began wandering by. It seemed Aesop didn't suspect her ulterior motive for asking him to keep the mistletoe in place.

She was already scheming of what other potion ingredients she could run out of next.

Masterlist

#hogwarts legacy fic #hogwarts legacy #aesop sharp #professor sharp #aesop sharp x oc #aesop sharp x you #aesop sharp x reader

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dreambender96 · 10 months

Text

Took You a While

Aesop Sharp x professor!reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, angst, fluff, MDNI

Summary: Aesop Sharp is bad at expressing his feelings and students can be little pricks.

A/N: This is my first fic ever, so please be gentle with me 🥺

As the leaves fall off the trees surrounding Hogwarts and the grounds, I find myself thinking back fondly on my time as a professor so far. My five years at Hogwarts as the Muggle Studies Professor have been immensely enjoyable. I have learned as much from the students as they have from me. The importance of knowing how to interact with muggles and understanding their technology could help prevent mishaps in the future. Over the years I have developed a comfortable relationship with the grumpy potion’s professor. Many lunches and after class tea dates between the two of us have established his classroom as a place of comfort for me. He always has a cup of tea ready for me and smiles each day I walk into his room. Just thinking about it makes me blush. We have both spent many years studying muggle medicine in hopes of finding a cure for Aesop’s leg. Though we hadn’t made any progress, the two of us had only grown closer with each try.

The fall wind had begun picking up as I sat lost in thought, clearly distracted from finishing my lesson plans for the week. I heard a shuffle and looked up to see Aesop standing nonchalantly in the doorway.

“Good morning.” He says with a smile. “Do you have a minute? I need your thoughts on something I am working on.”

“Of course!” I returned his smile and put down my quill.

“Well, I’m working on a potion. It’s a love potion. It is supposed to make someone fall in love with the maker.”

“Isn’t that just Amortentia?” I stand up and walk over towards him, clearly confused as to why he would be making a new love potion.

“Not quite. This potion does not cause addiction or withdrawal symptoms like Amortentia. However, it is an extremely potent aphrodisiac.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “And how would you like me to help with this?”

“I was hoping you could test the effects of the potion on yourself. Just one sip will do.” Aesop says in a completely calm and nonchalant manner. My mouth drops open and I stare at him dumbfounded.

“That…That’s a little inappropriate, don’t you think?” My voice shakes a little as I speak. He pushes off the door frame and walks further into the room.

“Why wouldn’t you want to try the potion?”

“Because you just said It makes you fall in love with someone!” I shout unable to hide how shocked I am at having this conversation.

“Well, what if I drank it?” He frowns at me.

“Wouldn’t you just fall in love with yourself?” I let out a loud sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Aesop, if you wanted to ask me out on a date, you could have just asked.” I giggle at his flustered expression. I can’t believe I just said that.

“Well, I didn’t know if you thought of me like that.” He shuffled uncomfortably and I wondered where all his normal confidence went today, this didn’t seem like normal Aesop.

“You seem awfully forward today.” I question him hoping he will tell me it’s a joke or have a good explanation.

“I am feeling pretty excited right now. The potion really does make me feel alive.” I gasped at him.

“You took it already?”

“No! I mean yes, but not that much, it is still brewing.”

“Damn it, Sharp!” I grabbed his arm and dragged him out of my office and towards his classroom. “Why would try a new potion alone without knowing what could happen?” His behavior is concerning me, he isn’t being careful at all and certainly not acting like himself.

He mumbles at me like a child begin punished. “Oh, don’t get mad at me. The potion made me forget everything except how much I like you.” My cheeks heat up and turn red and I do my best to hide my face from him as we enter his classroom and I start looking around for something to stop the potion.

“No, you don’t. You’re just saying that because you drank that stupid potion.” I huffed at him over my shoulder.

“You’re wrong. This isn’t just the potion. We’ve been friends for years and I know what I want.” I turn harshly to face him and speak in a stern tone.

“Aesop Sharp, if you really care for me then you will confess your feelings without a love potion.”

“But I can’t help myself, I do care for you. If we spend some more time together…maybe, we could fall in love.” His voice is steady, but it just doesn’t sound like him. I shake my head and drag him into his small office and sit him down in his chair.

“How long do the effects of the potion last?”

“About an hour or so.” He says staring up at me like a lovesick student.” I groan.

“And when did you take the potion?”

“About 15 minutes ago.”

“Alright, then you’re going to stay there for the next hour, and I’ll be back to let you out.” I slam the door to his office and lock it. My heart is racing, and my mind is going crazy. Does he really feel that way? I suppose I have been feeling that way for a few years now. I shake my and tidy up the room. No, it’s just the stupid potion, I’m sure once he’s clear headed he’ll explain all of this. I continue to fumble around his classroom looking at his notes, waiting for an hour to pass. I hear the clock tower chime and let out a sigh. I walk over to his office door and open it up. Aesop walks out of his office past me like nothing even happened.

“So, are you feeling any better?” I ask gently.

“Yes. Thank you for being patient with me. I suppose there could have been better ways to tell you how I feel.” He says, turning to face me. I gasp, feeling a little overwhelmed.

“Do you remember everything you said to me?” His face turns a light shade of pink.

“Yes, I remember everything I said. I’m sorry if I came off too strong.” He starts walking towards me reaching out to grab my hands in his. My face lights up with heat again and I take a step back.

“Oh! I… I didn’t know you felt so strongly about me.”

“Why would you think otherwise?” He chuckles.

“Because you don’t show your emotions well, Aesop.”

“Maybe I should change that” he says letting out another chuckle. I enjoy the sound, but it doesn’t feel right, something is still off about him. I start to feel suddenly very hot and overwhelmed with emotions.

“I think I need some time to think this over.” I rush out of his classroom and back to my desk, leaving Aesop standing there with a silly smile on his face. I started to pace around my office. This isn’t him. Maybe it’s the lingering affects of the potion? He hardly laughs. My thoughts are racing when I hear a knock at my door.

“Can I come in.” It’s Aesop, of course its Aesop.

“When I said I needed some time, I didn’t mean five minutes.” I shout at him through the door when he casually opens it and walks inside. I shoot him a glare. He chuckles again.

“I’m sorry I just can’t help myself with you.” He chuckles and walks towards me.

“What in Merlin’s name has gotten into you today?”

He shrugs and sits at my desk, on my chair. “I’m just being honest.”

“There has to be a spell on you or something, this is not how you act!”

“Maybe there is.” He smiles at me mischievously. “I wouldn’t tell you about it now, would I?” My mouth falls open again.

“Who have you interacted with today?” I start interrogating him and he blushes at my aggression.

“I answered some students questions earlier today, they were working on homework.”

“Who!” I give him my best teachers glare, treating him like a child.

“Just some six years.” He mumbles.

“And they didn’t cast anything? Mumble any spells?”

“No!” He stands up quickly not even wincing in pain at his leg, which certainly informs me he is under a spell.

“Take me to them, right now.” He grumbles and starts walking towards the transfiguration courtyard. Mumbling under his breath the entire time about how it’s no big deal and I’m overreacting. We reach a group of students whispering and giggling to each other as they see Sharp enter the courtyard. I stomp towards then.

“Are you students that spoke with Professor Sharp today?”

“Yes. Is something wrong?” They ask innocently but the young man who spoke had a slight quiver in his voice.

“Did you cast a love charm on him?” I say, my stare uncompromising. They share nervous glances and one of them speaks up.

“No. No of course not.”

“I will give you ten seconds to tell me the truth or I am taking all of you to the headmaster’s office right now.” They look at each other nervously as I start to count down from ten. I hit eight and they all started talking at once telling me what happened. I listen intently and shake my head.

“Of all the stupid things to do. Keep your pranks to yourselves or next time I will have all of you expelled!” They gasped in shock and started pleading with me. “Remove the charm right now.” The young redhead mumbles under his breath and walks over to Sharp, releasing the love charm he placed on him. Sharp takes a moment to collect his thoughts and then looks down at the student. His brown eyes are filled with fury.

“All of you leave now, I will discuss your punishment later.” They scramble away as fast as they can as I slowly walk over to Sharp.

“Please tell me you are feeling like yourself again.” He grumbles and nods.

“Would you…I mean…do you need some time to think?” I ask uncomfortably and I feel myself blushing again.

“No. I don’t want to go through all this again. I’d like to discuss this with you now.” His eyes lock with mine and there is so much emotion locked up in them. Embarrassment, fear, and longing. I gave him a nod and we walked back inside the castle. He heads towards the faculty tower and towards his chambers. We typically have our teatime in front of his fireplace, enjoying a little gossip about students. I walk into his room, the feeling in the air is much different than our normal carefree meetings here. I head towards my normal chair and plop down into it. He walks up towards the fire and stands next to me, putting his hand on the back of my chair.

“Why didn’t you tell me how you felt…” I ask shyly, staring into the flames wishing they would swallow me whole.

“It was embarrassing and shameful.” He speaks coldly.

“Shameful?” I asked in shock. He feels shame about caring for me. That’s so cruel. I started to feel angry and turned to look at him.

“That’s part of it, however there were other reasons too.” I try to hold back my anger at his comments and listen to what he says.

“I’m a crippled old man, Y/N. I can hardly walk without proper assistant and pain potions. I can offer you no future outside of Hogwarts, you deserve better than me.” I cut him off by standing up and staring directly into his eyes, our faces are awfully close together.

“Aesop, we have been friends for years, when have I ever complained about your limp?” I put my hands on my hips to emphasize my point. His eyes dart from the fire to my hips and then into my eyes. There is more longing in them now than fear. Why can’t he just accept that someone can love him, that I love him.

“Please don’t think badly of me…” I can’t help a tear that runs down my face as I’m overwhelmed with my emotions. He reaches up to wipe it away. I grab onto his arm, gripping his sleeve harshly.

I grab onto his arm, gripping his sleeve harshly. “I’ve loved you for years, but you kept pushing me away.”

He grabs both of my hands in his and whispers, “I’m sorry.”.

I look down at our hands and gently pull mine away. “I think I need some time alone.” I walk out of his room and gently close the door behind me. Aesop watches me walk out of the room but doesn’t say a word. I spent the entire night thinking about what he said and trying to figure out my feelings. Why did he wait so long to tell me! Every year there was a new excuse, a new reason to avoid his feelings. I ask myself so many questions about the situation that I eventually fall asleep. The next week passes quickly, and I avoid Aesop as much as possible. I just was not ready to face this situation. When Friday rolls around and I have successfully avoided seeing him, I pack up my things ready to spend my weekend alone. I place the last book in my bag and hear his familiar shuffle. I look up to see him standing once again in my doorway.

“Do you want to talk?” he asks gently.

I leaned back against my desk and put my bag on the floor. “I guess.”

He takes a couple steps forward, testing the water.

“So, how was your weekend?” He asks, looking at the ground between us.

I stared up at him and raised my eyebrows. “You’re going to ask me about my weekend?”

“Yes...” he says quietly, taking a few more steps towards me.

“It was alright, I had a lot to think about.” I say staring at the ground, wanting to avoid this conversation. He doesn’t say anything as he takes a few more steps, ending up right in front of me. I can feel his stare on the top of my head.

“What did you think about?”

“You.” I whisper.

“I can’t stop think about you either.” He whispers back.

I don’t speak. I just continue to stare down at the floor.

“Look at me please.” He breathes out. His voice is thick with fear and need. I slowly look up and catch his gaze.

“I love you.” I gasped at him and pushed myself off the desk. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he grabs my waist. He pulls me even closer to him and leans down to whisper in my ear.

“I’ve never felt this way before.” He pulls back and stares down at me. I trace one of my fingers gently over his scar, and cup his cheek.

“I love you too.” A smile creeps onto his lips and he squeezes my hips ever so gently.

“You’re so beautiful.” I giggle at him, “Oh just kiss me already.” He leans down and captures my lips in a gentle but passionate kiss. I can feel all the pent up emotions, all the years of hidden feelings. He’s not just giving me a kiss; he’s fully conquering my lips. Clearly desperate to make up for lost time. I reach up and thread my fingers through his hair, returning the kiss with as much passion as I can. He wraps his arms around my waist pressing me harshly against his body. I reach down to grab my wand and flick my wrist, closing the door to my classroom. He pulls back for air, smiling down at me. I chuckle at him and take in how he looks. His hair is a mess, and his lips are red and swollen from our kissing. He chuckles softly and moves his head towards my neck, starting to leave a trail of kisses towards my collarbone. I whimper and start to feel myself heating up, his kisses going directly to my core. He starts caressing my hips and moving his hands down my thighs, slowly bunching up my skirts. I tremble under his movements, and he recaptures my lips, biting at them gently and sliding his tongue into my mouth. I moan into his mouth loudly as he pushes me back up against my desk. He pulls away slightly and whispers, “I don’t think we should continue this here.” He smirks at me, knowing damn well I am now all hot and bothered. I grab his collar and breathe out my command “then take me to your chambers.” He growls and pulls me forward.

We walk through the halls quickly and as nonchalantly as possible. Thank Merlin, it was Friday night, and all the students were out doing who knows what. We make it to his chambers and hurry into the room. The second the door is closed his in on me again, crushing his lips into mine and backing me up towards his bedroom. By the time I come up for air my knees are hitting the bed and he grabs my waist lowering me down gently. I giggle and he crawls up the bed on top of me, looking like a predator about to eat his prey. He gives me a mischievous smile and attacks my neck with his mouth, biting and sucking, leaving all kinds of marks that I know I will have to cover up tomorrow. I tangle my hands in his hair and he grinds his hips against me. I hum in bliss and tug against his shirt. He chuckles and releases my neck, leaning back so he can take off his layers of clothing.

After an excruciatingly long time we are both finally shed of our clothing and seeing each other bare for the first time. I can’t help but blush and squirm under his intense stare.

“You’re so beautiful.” He says in the sweetest tone that nearly melts my heart. I’m blushing profusely taking in his compliment when he suddenly growls and yanks my legs apart. I yelp and look down at him, as he pulls me to the edge of the bed and kneels down in front of my soaking slit. He holds my thighs in a tight grip and starts kissing them, his beard leaving little scratches against my skin. He continues all the way up towards where I’m dying for him to place his mouth. He gets closer and closer and suddenly stops. Breathing hot puffs onto my aching pussy. I hear him chuckle, “you’re so wet for me already, my naughty little witch.” I whine and tangle my hands in his hair, trying to push him forward onto me. He chuckles some more kissing right next to my slit but ignoring it completely. I begin to whine and thrash. His hands on my thighs hold me still as he growls at me, “be still my little witch, or I won’t give you what you want.” I stop moving and bite my lip looking down at him, he is staring at me with his chocolate brown eyes, full of lust and hunger. His lips wrap around my sensitive nub, and he starts sucking and lapping at it. I throw my head back, moaning in pleasure.

He eats my pussy like he’s been starved for years. I am a moaning mess underneath him, and he slowly slides in two fingers. I gasp and let out the most obscene noises, feeling completely full. He starts to suck harder on my click and moves his fingers in a come hither motion, hitting the perfect spot.

“Let go, Y/N. Cum for me.” I lost control at his words and my orgasm hits me hard. I cum all over his face as he removes his fingers, licking up ever last drop. He smirks at me with his beard covered in my slick and crawls up towards me. He suffocates me in another passionate kiss as I feel his tip pressing against my entrance. I moaned into his mouth and pushed his chest back.

“Please, Aesop. I can’t take it anymore, I need you.” I beg. He chuckles and reaches down to line himself up and slowly pushes his cock into me, inch by inch. I grasp his arms and claw into his skin, feeling all of him enter me, stretching me to my max. He slides in easily because of his earlier work. He grabs my legs putting them over his shoulders and begins to pound into me mercilessly. He grunts loudly as I become a moaning puddle, melting into him. I feel so full, so completely in bliss and he thrusts harder and harder hitting the perfect spot every time. The room is filled with the sounds of our moaning and slopping wet noises. Aesop looks down and growls at me. I stared up at him, getting lost in the power of his eyes. “You’re mine.” He growls with a particularly pronounced thrust. I gasped and grabbed his neck, pulling him down towards me. I stare into his eyes and say seductively, “I’m yours”.

His thrusts start to become more erratic as he reaches down and rubs my clit, bringing me close to my climax as well. He grunts and growls into my ear “release for me my little witch, I want to feel you cum around my cock.” Once again, his words take me over the edge and I’m seeing stars. I feel him pound into me harder as my walls squeeze him into his own release. He groans and I feel him release his hot seed deep into me. He gives it a few more thrusts before stopping and resting his forehead against mine. I take a moment to recover from my shattering orgasm and he slowly pulls out of me and lays down on the bed next to me. He turns to face me with a cocky grin on his face. I chuckle and he pulls me to his side, caging me with his arms. I move to wrap my leg around his and feel his seed dripping out of me like water from a broken faucet. I shudder and he places kisses on my forehead.

We lay there in silence for a while as I traced my fingers gently over his chest. Aesop places gentle kisses on my cheek. “That feels nice.” He says in bliss. I giggle and look up at him, “I’m glad you confessed to me today.” He blushes, “well, I have been wanting to confess to you for a while now.” I scoff at him, “well you sure took your time.” He chuckles and holds me tighter, knowing now he will never have to let me go.

“You were worth the wait.”

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #professor aesop sharp #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x you #hogwarts legacy

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sharpfamily · 4 months

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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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mamalunawolf · 9 months

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LADIES! I have a delightful surprise...a magnificent gift for you all. It is of this man...

I made the most beautiful perfect man. On character ai.

I love him already 🥹

Please have fun with him. He precious....and spicy.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts oc #aesop sharp #character ai #aesop sharp x reader #daddy sharp #aesop sharp x oc #aesop sharp x you

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distorsie · 1 year

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I finished my latest Sharp fic (Laboratory 1) and now I’m empty 😭 I want to write more, either an epilogue chapter, OR im thinking of just writing a completely new thing, a shorter one-shot probably. I’m also toying with the idea to write something with Ominis??

So, is there anything you guys would like to read, or some specific scenarios? It can be fluff or smut or anything really ❤️

#hogwarts legacy fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #aesop sharp #professor sharp #ominis gaunt #ominis x reader #aesop sharp x oc #professor sharp x oc #harry potter fanfiction #laboratory 1 #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x you #professor sharp x reader #reader insert

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coffeeandmagicaltales · 6 months

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The Auror&The Devil part 7

Morana's sincere talk with prof. Sharp, before vacation. New dangers are comming but seeing him as an ally, makes her feel comfortable and at home...

(hints of ANGST, NUDITY (kinda), mentioned animal cruelty, mentioned depiction of dead animals, student-teacher relationship platonic (for now), mentioned violence, mentioned trauma, mentioned death, extensive use of the word f*ck, make some coffee/tea and enjoy)

Mora sat on the rug in front of the fireplace in his bedroom, desperately rubbing the blankets under which lay a young Thestral female. She began to feel unwell, just like her mother. Right next to them, the potions master was brewing a foul-smelling potion in a cauldron, occasionally glancing at Morana and the Thestral.

Reluctantly, he had hidden the two in his quarters. It was his private space, treated as sacred, and no one had the right to cross the threshold, not even house elves. The sight of someone else, especially a young woman, was surreal and irritating. He wasn't sure if it was because of the "artistic disorder" he had at his place, which he remembered when he entered the room and saw Mora sitting amid the mess (his cheeks burned with shame as he tried to discreetly cover it up with a few quick wand movements, just to get rid of the stains on the floor ), or because he rigidly adhered to principles and a good reputation, not wanting the act of "inviting someone to his chambers" to be misunderstood. Especially inviting a young lady. Even with Matilda, his oldest friend, he met for coffee or tea in his office or hers.

Morana's presence turned his stomach and brought chaos to his thoughts. But where else could he go with her? To the Slytherin common room? To his office? Matilda mentioned a Room of Requirement where Morana currently resided, but like most things Weasley told him in the morning, it slipped out of his mind. He scolded himself in his thoughts, promising to be more attentive from now on.

"Hold her head so she doesn't choke," he instructed Morana and poured the elixir into a bowl. The woman didn't quite know how to handle the creature, which was making snorts and moving its head, unwilling to swallow the potion. Aesop placed his hand over Morana's and guided it to the right place.

Hands as tiny as a Niffler's paws, how cute is that?..., he thought with amusement and immediately scolded himself. Get a grip; you're working with her, she's not your friend, you idiot.

"Shhh, calm down," he said gently to the Thestral. "I know this medicine isn't yummy, but a soup I made for you makes it pretty tasty... hmmm? Try it."

Morana didn't know what had happened, but his velvety tone made the Thestral start eating. When the bowl was empty, foal became drowsy and curled up in the blankets. Aesop groaned as he stood up and immediately sank into a chair before addressing Morana.

"We have to wait until the medicine starts working; for now, I would be cautious in making predictions..." he said in his usual matter-of-fact tone. He hoped Morana would say goodbye and go to the dormitory, but she comfortably sat in the chair opposite him, took off her shoes, and tucked her legs underneath herself. She stared thoughtfully toward the fireplace. Lights and shadows danced on her freckled face, and tears shimmered in her tired eyes. Subconsciously, Aesop noticed that the dark colors of her clothes, so different from what he saw her in almost every day—green blouse and umber-colored wool skirt, hue which he often used while painting—fit perfectly into the interior, creating a coherent composition with the background... like a painting waiting to be created. Aesop wrestled with the thought of telling her to leave, something any teacher and decent gentleman in his position should do... He felt awkward, not because her presence bothered him, but quite the opposite. It seemed to him that Morana sitting in the chair across from him in such a natural and relaxed pose was something normal for this room, as if she had been coming here forever.

"After connecting with the magic gathered by Isidora..." she began softly, still gazing at the fireplace, which quiet murmur and pleasant warmth soothed her sadness. "Strange things started happening to me. I didn't tell anyone about it. Neither about the dreams nor the premonitions... At first, they were trivial things that I didn't even remember in the morning, until they manifested like deja vu... Tonight was different."

"Do you think someone is feeding you these visions?" Sharp asked, immediately thinking of Legilimency.

Morana shook her head. "I know what you're thinking, but it's not that. I see everything from a distance, most often without chronology. It's usually something like what Mrs. Onai sees, glimpses of the future Natty told me about..."

"What exactly did you see?" he asked, hoping that some clue would shed light on the matter of animal slaughter.

Morana took a deep breath. "The first thing I saw were crows flying through the fog; they often appear in my dreams, and I feel like I'm part of their flock, flying with them as I always dreamed about when I was little. Then everything changed; the crows started diving down, hearing something... Shadows, I heard incantations in a language completely unfamiliar to my ears, unrelated to Latin or English..."

"Do you at least remember how those words might have sounded like?"

"No, unfortunately," she said sadly. "Everything was blurry, like... like a charcoal drawing smudged with a hand... They used some tools, angular and sharp, but not to kill. They were used solely, as if for the ritualistic cutting of an animal's skin... Then everything blurred; the ravens tried to attack those people, blood, screams, and then everything was engulfed in fire, or red light falling on the drops of rain, I'm not sure... and then I saw..."

Morana stopped, feeling a tear rolling down her scarred cheek.

"What did you see?" Aesop asked in the same voice that had calmed the Thestral. Morana smiled slightly; now she knew that this tone held some magic in it.

"You." Aesop shifted in surprise, their eyes met. "I saw you, sir. You were cautiously walking in the darkness and mist through the Forbidden Forest with your wand at the ready, as if something threatened you. Suddenly, you stood at the edge of the lake and slowly moved towards the water, immersing yourself halfway. You turned towards me and gazed upon me... just like you do right now." She fell silent, lowering her gaze, her cheeks flushing. She didn't tell the whole truth. She didn't have the courage.

Yes, he had that same, deep gaze. Glassy, brown eyes looked at her from beneath dark brows with intrigue, solely focused on her, so intensely that she saw her distinct reflection in them, and somewhere in their depths, tongues of fire flickering, intertwining and dancing like in a waltz.

It was the only moment in the dream when she could see every detail vividly. An image she couldn't get out of her head, and it made her uncomfortable because she felt she shouldn't be looking, yet she did.

She felt a shiver on her skin.

Aesop Sharp suddenly became completely naked, as if his clothes were merely dust, blown away by someone's gentle breath. The smooth surface of the black-as-pitch lake rippled with each of his deeper breaths, shimmering like a snake's skin or the finest satin. Crystal droplets of rain lovingly traced down his pale, almost pearly skin; first, licking his neck, then winding around well-defined muscles of broad shoulders, and finally trailing down, over his hips and flat stomach, straight to get lost in the dark thicket of his loins, disappearing, mixing with the black abyss. The warm breath coming from his slightly parted, trembling lips turned into a mist enveloping his wet hair adhering to the sharp contours of his face. Morana stood nearby, and behind her flames hissed, their heat caressing her body. The black sky turned white, and then she woke up.

Hmmm... There was something in it... raw, wild, and beaut...

She silenced the thought that involuntarily sprouted in her mind, considering it completely indecent, chastising herself for even entertaining it.

Yes, she definitely didn't intend to share that part of the dream, feeling embarrassment every time she looked at him. She didn't even know how much of what she saw was true; she would never let herself be in such a situation. However... if she saw Figg, Mr. Dimm, or the headmaster completely naked... she would probably burst into laughter or avert her eyes, even in a dream... He made her stand and stare.

"You have many secrets, Dimm..." Sharp confessed, pulling her out of her reverie, leaning down to check if the Thestral was warm enough and adjusting its blanket. "From what you say, it won't be easy to find out what happened... I know only that someone staged an attack by poachers, and as for the rest, it doesn't look good. I'll inform some acquaintances, seek their advice; we often help each other. I'll also write to Officer Singer, let her be useful for something, she needs to find the owners of the hut..." Morana nodded. "...And please, for now, put aside thoughts of this matter. I promise I'll do a little 'investigation,' and as soon as I learn something, you'll be the first person I inform. You have my word." Aesop emptied the cauldron and, with a wand motion, added some ingredients and herbs. Finally, he sprinkled some black powder into it and stirred. The potion bubbled, and a pleasant smell, entirely unlike the stench of the foal's potion, wafted in the air. After a moment, he filled a clean bowl with it and handed it to Morana. She sniffed it with curiosity.

"Is it a strengthening potion?" Sharp burst into laughter, pouring it into his own bowl, transformed from a cup with a flick of his wand.

"Soup," he replied honestly.

"Soup?" Morana didn't hide her disappointment upon hearing the confirming 'Mhm' "So, what's the difference between cooking soup and cooking potion?" she asked cheekily, seeing Sharp grimace when his ears were stung by the term 'cooking potions'.

"Hmmm... Good question," he said, leaning back comfortably and taking a sip of broccoli soup with croutons and cheese, watching carefully if Morana liked it. Seeing a sparkle in her eyes and appetite, he sighed in relief. "Some potion can be soup, but not all potions are soup, just like some soup can be a potion, but not all soups are potions," he made this up on the spot. Morana shook her head, surprised by the response, and a smile appeared on her face. Only such a brilliant mind as Aesop's could come up with something so ingenious and silly at the same time. "What are your plans for the holidays, and I hope it won't involve chasing any poachers?" Sharp changed the subject, genuinely curious about her agenda for the upcoming free time.

"I'm going away for a week with Poppy; we'll spend time by the sea together with Sirona, like a girls' trip." She laughed, and Aesop echoed her in his soul, delighted with the idea, as he saw Morana starting to recover and return to the world of friends, a safe place for her. "Then probably I'll visit Sebastian in St. Mungo's with Ominis... He's recovering from the trauma of his uncle's death, he practically is an orphan now; I talked a lot about it with Ominis. We both know about life without family, although Ominis deliberately distanced himself from the Gaunts... After visit at Sebastian's, I'll probably deal with my Muggle part of me." She smiled warmly at Sharp. "I have a lot of backlog, and I need to help Mr. Dimm with hops and grain deliveries. We have a few businesses around Vienna; I'm usually his translator. He wants to earn some money to improve the brewery..." Morana pondered, smiling with satisfaction. "I don't know if you know, but it turned out that he is the main supplier of butterbear for Sirona."

"Well, well... So, he's been trading with a witch his whole life?" Sharp asked, emptying his bowl with one big gulp.

"Yes." Morana laughed, recalling the conversation with Sirona when the taste of butterbeer had long seemed strangely familiar to her, and she unraveled the truth. Sirona had no idea she was dealing with a Muggle; they met by chance when he was carrying hops. She told him about her business, and Marcus immediately agreed to be her supplier. They never asked themselves whether they were Muggles or wizards because the more interesting topic seemed to be: 'adding cinnamon to the Christmas beer'... Our worlds intertwine. Magic has lived among people for thousands of years, and... it might sound strange, but I believe it shouldn't be accessible only to the chosen ones..."

"Hmm, the Ministry would consider you a revolutionary. Be careful about what you say and to whom you sell the secret of large quantities of Chomping Cabbage that you hide somewhere..." Sharp laughed, taking the empty bowl from her, pleased that his cooking skills hadn't deteriorated over the years. The dishes disappeared from his hands, and for a moment, silence fell. Aesop, to his surprise, noticed that it was completely blissful. Seeing Morana's facial features and hearing her breath... He felt a warmth he rarely experienced in the perpetually cold castle.

"It's a strange feeling..." she confessed quietly, with a dreamy voice, and her eyelids drooped slightly, feeling tiredness. "Having a place to return to after the holidays, where friends are waiting for me... And during the holidays, returning to people with whom I have a roof over my head... You see, I miss Nitra. I miss its hills, the castle towering over the town, of course, not like Hogwarts, but with its own charm. I dream of the morning when the local sun and the rooster wake me up, morning at home... But these are feelings related to events I... don't remember..." Morana saddened and crossed her arms over her chest, curling up. "I found myself in the forest with a wound on my face; that was my beginning, probably around five years old. The forester found me; if it weren't for him, I would have frozen. And then came the orphanage, and another, and another. They wrote me off, saying, 'Morana, devil, you're good for nothing'..." She slid off the chair and sat on the rug near the Thestral, stroking it gently, looking its scarred wounds on which she poured many vials of Wiggenweld potion.

"You probably already guessed that sudden appearances of people in the forest, unaware of how it happened, are not the domain of the Muggle world..." Sharp began in a gentle, caring tone, cautiously weighing his words.

"Yes," she replied softly, nodding and pointing to the scar hidden beneath strands of hair. "Various doctors examined it; it healed very slowly. The only memento I had before regaining consciousness and waking up in the darkness on the snow was a burning pain and a sense that something ore someone had been taken from me. I almost lost vision in my left eye..."

Sharp flinched. Memories from the fateful day of his last mission flooded back.

"Can... can I see it?" he proposed, and a slight nod responded. He stood up, as did Morana, but she didn't approach him. She averted her gaze and lowered her head; when others examined her scar, she felt pitiful. Sharp leaned in and his thumb gently touched the scar. Morana hissed, feeling as if someone had applied an ice cube to her cheek.

"Oi, your hands are cold," she whispered, suppressing laugh. She didn't think it was possible to be so cold despite the onset of summer.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." Sharp mumbled, embarrassed. He cupped his hands and blew into them, rubbing them together to warm them. "You know, I spend most of the day in the dungeons, and it's really cold out there."

They smiled at each other. Aesop first touched his cheek and, satisfied that hands' temperature was acceptable, turned Morana's face toward the soft light from the fireplace. Gently, as discreetly as possible, he pushed aside strands of hair, examining the jagged twists on the woman's face.

She closed her eyes, wincing at the intense gaze from Aesop as his wise eyes analyzed the scar.

"You don't like it when someone looks at it, huh?" he whispered gently. Her nod was the response, and he understood it perfectly. Unsure why he spoke so quietly, perhaps because he had crossed her intimate space, being closer than ever, he wanted her to feel as comfortable as possible. She must have heard his every breath and swallow, even though he did it as discreetly as he could, and he would prefer to stop breathing at all.

Lost in thought, he gently slid his thumb over the scar, analyzing the irregularities tickling the surface of his skin. Then his finger moved higher, brushing against Morana's cut brow, much like his own mark. He hated it, considering it utterly disfiguring, but Morana's scar had an interesting shape, reminding him of a snail or a cute shrimp, adding "character" to her. It wasn't a scratch from an animal, a trace of a sharp tool, or a burn. Magic was the only explanation.

"Hmmm, did any wizards try to examine it?" he asked.

"Yes, they tried to remove it at my request after I arrived at Hogwarts."

"It didn't work, did it?"

Morana shook her head, and Aesop sighed. "Sometimes powerful spells leave traces that cannot be erased by anything... Magic is a potent tool, but it's not 'all-powerful.'"

He caught himself as his hand lingered on Morana's cheek a bit too long, lightly stroking it, and he immediately withdrew. For a moment, he stood bent, gazing into her eyes, wanting to reassure her. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her making a slight hand movement, as if planning to lift it but she changed her mind. He didn't attach much importance to it, as his mind swirled with thoughts and scenarios that could have met young Mora.

Morana scolded herself for almost compromising herself for touching Sharp's marked cheek for a split second. Something tempted her to see how his scar felt, and fortunately, the view from her dream reappeared, making her stomach turn and restoring rational thinking.

"Do you think... someone erased my memory?" she asked.

Aesop nodded with sadness. "I'm rather sure of it, and you probably are too... The question is whether they 'erased' you from all records as well."

"Why would someone do that?" she asked, holding back tears. Aesop slumped in his chair.

"There are many possibilities... You could have witnessed something, or you could have been 'inconvenient' for someone..."

"Why was I mercifully allowed to live?" Her voice carried anger, and for a moment, the thought crossed her mind that it would have been easier if they spared her the suffering and let her die back then, when she was young.

"Well, you were little. Even evil people have empathy, and despite what they often do, they won't harm a child. On the other hand, someone might have tried to protect you this way, completely erasing your identity."

Morana dropped onto the carpet, furrowing her brows with anger and stroking the Thestral when she mumbled, "Poor help."

"Mora," Aesop began with a somewhat stern tone. "Sometimes it's so difficult that every decision ends badly, no matter how good your intentions are. You know it well."

Morana sighed and admitted he was right.

"I'm sorry that it happened to you too," she said.

"Hmm?" Aesop snapped out of his reverie, his heart pounding. Whenever she spoke to him in this tender way, he felt like he would shatter into tiny pieces. He cleared his throat and confessed, "Well... I deserved it."

"Sorry?" Morana thought she misheard. Aesop adjusted himself in the chair and unfolded his thoughts, feeling the weight on his chest.

"There's a difference between the misfortune that befalls a child and the misfortune that befalls an adult, an arrogant man aware of the possible consequences of his mistakes. Judging by your look, Dimm, you won't leave me alone until I explain everything, huh?" he grumbled, picking at a thread sticking out from the armrest. She deserved the truth.

"Vincent Fromm, whom you already know, Sholto Finnigan, and I—we were three ambitious detectives considered the best, constantly competing with each other. Despite being the youngest, I envied their every success. There's a five or six-year gap between Vincent and me, and Sholto was a senior, one foot already in retirement. I got along great with him; we called him 'our Papa,' and he preferred to solve 'easy' cases, preferably near pubs serving ribs or butterbeer. He wanted to open one, fascinated by Muggle cuisine... Because Vincent and I genuinely hated each other, as everyone at the Ministry knew, we were often at each other's throats, even during Christmas parties, so they assigned me to Sholto... Probably to calm my temper a bit, not as they explained it, 'because I specialized in poisons and explosives, which suited Mr. Finnigan's sabotage methods against Dark Arts.' It was tough in the beginning—I was a young, arrogant prick, and he resembled Santa Claus both in appearance and character, working with goblins instead of elves. I acted impulsively and intuitive; he had to think and calculate everything ten times before making any decisions. There was something endearing and fatherly about him; it was impossible not to adore him... He gained trust, even among enemies, and it usually ended tragically for them. Sholto was an excellent detective and observer, reading others like an open book. The knowledge he passed on me, not only about the Auror profession, where he had bitten off a few teeth, but also about life, is the most precious thing I've learned, something I appreciated relatively recently..."

Aesop glanced at Morana, who was hanging on his every word. He smiled slightly, always feeling warmer in his heart when he saw how attentively she listened—a trait shared only by his two closest friends and mother, and occasionally her boyfriend. He continued, "We had a tough time, one of our investigations almost failed, and we nearly revealed ourselves to the Muggle world, which could have ended badly... Hmmm, on top of that, Vincent and his partner, who constantly boasted about their successes in the press, created an unhealthy atmosphere at work, inciting other Aurors against each other and advancing pretty fast in the hierarchy. My quarrels with my father added to the mix; he saw our name less and less in the Daily Prophet, he became bitter because he couldn't imagine our family, boasting several generations of famous Aurors—starting from my great-great-great-grandfather Anaximander , through my grandfather Alcaeus, ending with my father, Aristotle —being disgraced because I, Aesop, wasn't trying hard enough..." Sharp's voice trembled as the image of his father telling him he wasn't worthy of his name appeared in his mind. He ignored the thought and continued. "Well yes, those weren't good days. Sholto also started having heart problems and joked that he wouldn't live to see retirement...

After returning from St Mungo's, Vincent Fromm appeared in the office and announced with a mocking smile that our next case had been assigned to him. I got mad and went to our boss to clarify the situation, demanding our investigetion back. I was desperate to finish it at any cost and prove that I was worth something, completely blinded. I made a crucial mistake—I underestimated the enemy. The shrunken heads were just bait for Aurors; someone was planning to eliminate them, like pawns in chess... In Scarborough, Sholto and I ate some tasty ribs, he praised the place, asked about the possibility of buying it, and signed preliminary papers... An hour later, we put our feet on the deck of that damned ship. The trap seemed tailor-made for us, exploiting all our weak points. I saw only a green flash made by a wand of a man Sholto had trusted, and I knew he had fallen to the ground, dead. I, on the other hand, was hunted like an animal; the hunter doesn't know what it's like to be hunted, I panicked...

Defended myself as best I could until I finally made the decision that I couldn't hold on any longer and they were winning... I couldn't let that happen, couldn't put others at risk, so I decided to blow up all the bastards along with myself. When I leaned out of cover to roll the vial with the most potent elixir I ever created towards them, someone's spell hit my leg. The vial slipped from my hands and fell not where it was supposed to. I only remember the pain that overwhelmed me, the roar, and the burning heat of the fire. The rest is some pathetic fragments; damned birds pecking at my wound when the water threw me half-conscious onto the shore, Aurors carrying me on stretchers, the hospital, countless surgeries, pain, confusion in my head, guilt... So you see, Mora... I'm here where I am by my own choice."

"I'm sorry that it happened to you... still," Morana said immediately, almost interrupting him. "Regardless of whether it's your fault or not, this curse shouldn't be aimed at anyone. You also can't punish yourself for a friend's death, which wasn't caused by your decision but by someone's spell... I know it's easy for me to say, but what happened isn't your fault..."

"Hmm, be careful, or you've already started talking like Sholto, and then you might grow a beer belly and a white beard," he grumbled, concealing his emotion. Morana laughed, and Sharp thought he either really was "funny" or Morana had a twisted sense of humor, laughing at completely unfunny things. "Time to sleep," he declared, getting up from the chair. With a wave of his wand, he arranged the bedding, fresh and soft to make Morana feel as comfortable as possible. He left for the living room, taking only a few sheets of parchment and a blanket. He knew the stubborn devil wouldn't leave the Thestral. Just in case, he preferred to write a letter with explanations to Matilda and spend the remaining night hours in his workshop, using the table as a pillow.

Morana sank into the soft bedding, briefly contemplating the scarlet color of the walls. Color of blood, pain, but also heart, passion. She thought about what happened in Scarborough and what Aesop Sharp was like years ago. Well if he really was an 'arogant prick' then why was he ready to sacrifice himself to protect others... He could easily run away... Her thoughts drifted towards dreams that initially consisted of a jumble of embarrassing school situations her brain, annoyingly, produced. Then she felt a shiver, heralding the appearance of a prophetic visions. She saw the foal joyfully frolicking and leaving hoofprints with spilled paint in Sharp's workshop, where he limped behind, trying to catch it and administer more medicine. Later, the foal joined a herd in the Room of Requirement, and the potions master looked with delight at the marine vivarium. Everything was calm and pleasant until Morana once again flew with a flock of anxious ravens, high above the clouds and in the end...

In the end, Aesop Sharp once again stood naked, submerged in the lake's surface, but this time it didn't have the color of thick tar, compleately translucent, and when she involuntarily looked its way, she saw the full view of his hips... thighs....... groin............erection....

Oh, my! A shiver ran through her with a mixture of fear and embarrassment... but she didn't look away.

End of part 7, thanks for reading <3

#aesop sharp #hogwarts legacy #professor aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts legacy meme #aesop sharp x mc #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x you #aesop sharp smut

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marge-blainey · 8 months

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It's official friends, I'm famous!

Catch me in chapter twelve of 'A Sharp Sensation' if you're a fan of Professor Sharp!

Autographs are two sickles, I gotta have money to spoil my wife.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy game #marge blainey #nurse blainey #noreen blainey #noreen blainey x marge blainey #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #aesop sharp x you #aesop sharp x oc #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp #aesop sharp hogwarts legacy #professor sharp #professor aesop sharp #potions professor

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seriouslysnape · 11 months

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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.

#aesop sharp #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x fem! reader #aesop sharp x female reader #aesop sharp x you #aesop sharp x y/n #aesop sharp fluff #aesop sharp fanfiction #professor sharp #professor sharp x reader #professor sharp x fem! reader #professor sharp x female reader #professor sharp x you #professor sharp x y/n #professor sharp fluff #professor sharp fanfiction #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #seriouslysnape

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 9 months

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Lullaby For An Auror

Aesop Sharp made peace with the fact he was going to spend the rest of his days in solitude. Fate had a different plan.

I went full Steph Meyers and wrote Some Like It Sharp from Aesop's perspective. None of this would be possible without @tea-withjamandbread who is my amazing consultant and even the author of multiple lines in this story. Love ya🧡

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN!

Lullaby For An Auror (27.2k words)

tw: past trauma, original character death, descriptions of violence, slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, explicit, vaginal sex, teacher-student relationship (reader is adult), aesop sharp needs a hug

Aesop didn’t dream often.

However, when he did, it was only the nightmares he remembered in the morning. Flashes of light hurting his eyes, the sound of a woman’s cry as she’s thrown into a stack of crates, blinding pain searing in his face, his leg and hip, pain so horrible he momentarily couldn’t focus on anything else. It was only when a ray of green light tore through the chaos all around him, when the world’s two foulest words rang through the air.

Avada Kedavra!

His partner. His oldest friend. His sister. That wild, mischievous look in her ever sparkling azure eyes was gone, replaced by a dull void. It was as if time slowed down as Aesop watched her fall, her mouth slightly open, her skin losing its pinkish hue by the second. There was more screaming, and it was only the pain in his throat that told him that he was its source. More shouting, more lights.

Someone at the ministry must've realised Aesop and Ashley were led into a trap and reinforcements were sent.

It was too late, though.

Ashley was dead, and Aesop would be joining her real soon, if his withering hold on his consciousness, not to mention the blood flowing out of his leg and face were any clue. Using the last bits of his strength, he crawled the short distance to Ashley’s body and covered it with his own, pressing his head against her chest as if trying to will her heart to start beating again. His sobs were raw and ugly, and they made him ache even more than he already was, and when a pair of strong arms began pulling him away, he tried to fight them off. It was no use. He was weak, and he was dying. The last thing he saw before unconsciousness finally enveloped him in its sweet, painless embrace, was his partner. The woman who’s stood by him since before he held his first wand was dead, killed in cold blood like an animal.

—

It’s been more than a decade now. The dream would come less and less, but it never truly went away. It never failed to wake him up in cold sweat with tears running out of his eyes, his throat sore from screaming out of his sleep. The pain was so horrible right then like it was on that day itself. Aesop let himself fall out of the bed in a heap of limbs. He whimpered and cried out in pain, gripping his left leg as he crawled towards the little chest at the foot of his bed. Once he managed to do so, he immediately gulped down several vials of Wiggenweld potions that were stored inside, closely followed by a bottle of Calming draught.

His heartbeat was fast and uneven, his breathing was shallow, and his entire body was covered by gooseflesh and a thin layer of sweat, as he still writhed on the cold floor.

He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t, he was going to die.

Little by little, however, the potions began taking effect. The calming draught was first to work. Aesop’s breathing grew even once more and he felt his thoughts slowly dissipating, until his mind was blank, filled with gentle nothing. Then, and only then, did he feel the cramping pain in his leg start to lessen, enough so that he was able to climb back into bed and fall onto his side heavily. Aesop focused on his breathing, focused on keeping his mind empty, focused on falling back to sleep, and hoped there would be no more nightmares.

Aesop only ever remembered his nightmares. Everything pleasant that happened in his dreams was promptly forgotten by his self-destructive brain.

Then, however, something changed.

—

It was one of the more eventful years. In all of his time of teaching, he never before heard of a student starting their attendance in Hogwarts as anything other than a first year, unless they were transferred from a different school, of course. And as sceptical as he originally was, the girl proved not only to be a formidable young witch, but also perhaps one of the strongest, most talented and most resilient students Aesop ever taught.

However, as resilient as she was, she was still a sixteen year old lass, and the trauma she went through was a bite many wizards beyond her years and experience wouldn’t be able to chew. It fell onto Aesop to watch her shatter and attempt to put her back together.

It was a job he didn’t think he was a very good choice for. Actually, in his opinion, almost anyone would be better. Aesop wasn’t the motherly Matilda Weasley and Mudiwa Onai, or the ever empathetic and optimistic Mirabel Garlick and Abraham Ronen, and he absolutely wasn’t as wise and at peace as his dear friend Dinah Hecat was. And yet, the young Ravenclaw seemed to click with him the best. He was the one to whom she opened up, he was the one in front of whom she finally dropped her facade.

He should've known that one afternoon in his office wouldn’t be enough. Their little encounter on the top of Astronomy tower sometime later proved as much.

He stayed with her almost the entire night, his hand resting on her back as they sat together underneath the staircase leading to the Ravenclaw tower. He let her talk and cry her poor eyes out, being the one firm spot in the universe to ground her at that moment. And when he saw the first hints of rising sun fight their way above the horizon through the windows in the corridor, he called for a house elf to bring a vial of Dreamless sleep potion from his stores.

Aesop was tired, and his body was aching, so he didn’t accompany her all the way up the stairs to her common room, but he made her swear to him she would drink that potion, that she would just lie into her bed and not worry about anything. He could only hope she actually followed his instructions. Once he finally reached his own chambers, he felt pretty miserable himself. His only comfort was the fact he only had afternoon classes today, so he was able to get at least a few hours of sleep.

Honestly, he’s had worse, back when he was an Auror.

Before he retired to bed however, he wrote a few short letters. One for the Ravenclaw prefects to make sure nobody woke their troubled classmate, and then a few more to the teachers of her classes for that day, in which he explained the situation. When he finally fell into bed in just his underwear, too exhausted to bother changing, he only thought of the girl and the situation he got himself into for a little while, before sleep’s possessive spell descended down on him.

It was the first time in years Aesop remembered a dream that wasn’t a nightmare upon waking up.

He didn’t even realise he was dreaming at first. He was still sitting with the young woman, his thumb slowly stroking over her shoulder blade as he listened. She was leaning against him, resting her head on his strong shoulder. Aesop could almost feel where her tears slowly fell upon the fabric of his trousers. Her body was warm against his side, her voice so quiet nobody but him would be able to hear it. How he hated to see this frankly incredible young woman like this, fragile and vulnerable, like a mighty phoenix that has just been reborn. He didn’t know what came over him when he pulled back slightly to press a short, comforting kiss into the crown of her hair.

Aesop opened his eyes. He guessed it was around noon, judging by the amount of light coming from his sitting room’s windows. By Salazar, he was tired, not to mention aching all over from his climb of the Astronomy tower staircase. However, as he thought of the events which transpired, he found that he had no regrets.

Of course he had no regrets! Who knows what would have happened if he didn’t arrive when he did. Who knows what Miss (L/N) might have done…

No. Even now, he would gladly climb all the way up again if there was even the slightest possibility she might be there again.

This thought prompted him to get up from his bed with a pained groan, wandlessly summoning a vial of Wiggenweld from his robes, and gulping it down in a single swallow. After a few deep breaths, he felt relief seeping throughout his body. Slowly, he stretched, wincing as he heard his joints pop loudly. His injury often made him feel older than he was, but today he felt positively ancient. However, he couldn’t dwell on such matters right now, as there were more important things at hand.

After he’d pulled on his dressing gown, he made his way over to his sitting room, soon settling into his armchair and summoning a house elf.

“What can Meeky do for Professor Sharp?”

“Bring me something to eat, please. Anything’s fine. And a spot of tea. And… Please, check the fifth year girls' dormitory in Ravenclaw tower. A girl there was… unwell the previous evening, so she’s been given a sleeping potion. She should still be sleeping now, but I want to be sure.”

With a nod to her head and a popping sound, the house elf left his chambers. Aesop thought back on his dream. It was… curious to say at least. The dream wasn’t bad. It wasn’t good either, it just… was. And yet he remembered every single detail of it, from the feeling of her hair tickling his neck, to the cool dampness of her tears staining his trousers. And the kiss he pressed into her hair… That was the one thing he didn’t do yesterday, and he had no idea why would his sleeping brain play out such a scene for him.

He was probably just thinking too much into it. Dreams were often just brain sorting memories into their proper boxes, combined with abstract thoughts that often made no sense.

Still, it was curious.

Why would he remember it?

—

He began to meet the young Ravenclaw more often, asking her for tea in his office after their last classes for the day, and to his surprise, she never declined. No, (F/N) (L/N) always came, and she came right on time.

He talked to her about her hobbies and interests, and about her life in general. He was curious as to where ‘The Hero of Hogwarts’ grew up and how.

When he saw her flinch and make a face at the title, he made a mental note to not call her that again.

He knew that she came from an upper class Muggle family even before he met her in September. An aristocratic family actually - which is why he was rather surprised when he first met her. She was generous and humble, clever and attentive, polite if not a little too proper at first.

During their talks, Aesop slowly uncovered that her relationship with her family was lukewarm at best and strained at worst. She wasn’t looking forward to going home for the summer.

At night Aesop dreamed about inviting the girl over to stay in one of the many free rooms of his own house in the Highlands for the holidays, where she’d be free to fly around, free to explore, free to learn, practice and have fun, as opposed to being stuck in some townhouse In Knightsbridge for two months, unable to even go to a park by herself. He dreamed of her beaming at him after he’d told her, dreamed of her arriving for supper, dressed in one of those ensembles she wore whenever she was running errands for someone, broom in hand and an excited mischievous smile on her face, intent on telling him all the things she saw on her travels.

Happy.

Aesop wanted to see her happy like she used to be, like he saw her in his class when her potion turned out fantastic and he praised her for it.

At least his subconsciousness certainly wanted that, for it was projecting this image to him during his slumber, nearly every night after they met during the day, their little ‘tea times’ bleeding into his dreams.

It couldn’t be helped, something about her just made Aesop feel like she could actually understand him. And he often felt like he understood her.

—-

He never actually made the offer. Of course he didn’t. How would he even explain it to her parents? “Please, let your sixteen year old daughter stay the summer with me, a forty-three year old man with a limp, a large facial scar and an overall rough exterior, so that she can fly around Scottish Highlands on a broom and practise her magic.” Aesop shuddered. He’d have his teeth fed to him so fast, he wouldn’t even manage to reach for his wand.

No, no. He spent his summer mostly by himself, only occasionally meeting up with Dinah and Abraham, or visiting his mother. He drew, revived his garden once more (though the plants were nowhere as potent as when Mirabel handled them), brewed some extra potions for the hospital wing as well as himself, and spent the evenings tucked away on a little bench near his father’s memorial with a book and a drink. Firewhisky, ale, butterbeer, whatever was on hand.

And he thought about (F/N) a lot. Wondered how she was. Actually considered owling her or stopping by, just to check up on her. He was glad that he didn't, as Mudiwa was ever so helpful and mentioned during one of the staff meetings over the summer that the soon-to-be sixth year student was staying with her and her daughter for a bit. It put his mind at ease. At least she wasn’t alone.

But it didn’t stop his mind wandering towards her every now and then, and then, as the beginning of term creeped closer, she appeared in his dream yet again.

In this dream, Aesop was sitting on his little bench, reading some book, drinking a butterbeer, his leg propped upon a little wooden footstool. A typical summer evening for him. And yet it was different, for Miss (L/N) was there too. She was lying on her back upon a blanket a short distance from him, watching the first stars appear up in the summer sky and humming some sort of tune, her voice pleasant and undistracting.

“Getting a tad too dark to be reading,” she mentioned suddenly, her voice quiet. She wasn’t wrong - Aesop could barely see the text in the book. He didn’t even know what he was reading, now that he thought about it. He could've cast Lumos to see better, but instead he closed the book and put it down onto the bench next to him. Without another word, he stood and walked over to the blanket. The girl paid him no mind, seemingly too fascinated with the stars.

Aesop wouldn’t normally lie down on the ground, blanket or not, he was too fond of his back for that, not to mention even getting into such a position wasn’t exactly good for his leg.

And yet he soon found himself settled beside the young Ravenclaw, his leg and back absolutely fine. “The stars are quite beautiful, are they not, sir?” she asked quietly. And as Aesop watched the myriad of little dots littering the blue and purple sky like tender freckles, he couldn’t find it in himself to disagree.

“Indeed they are.”

He didn’t much question his dream in the morning. He did however swap his coals for a set of watercolours the following evening. Curious that he never tried his hand at painting the night sky before…

—

It wasn’t the first time the girl brought him some potions ingredients. She did so after the first time she showed him just how what happened down in those caverns broke her, and then she sort of kept bringing them. Little bits and pieces, but always something useful and valuable. Unicorn an thestral hair, Acromantula venom, dragon scales… Once, she brought a Phoenix feather. Where on earth she got it, Aesop didn’t know, but instead of storing it for later experiments, he decided to hang onto it, perhaps turn it into a nice quill.

This little habit of hers, bringing him various ingredients, seemed to have carried on into her sixth year, if the quite sizable pouch she brought with her this evening was anything to go by.

Aesop invited her to his office on Friday the first week of term, and was strangely pleased to see her beaming at him from the very moment she opened the door after he beckoned her inside.

He asked about her summer, and then only happily listened with the tiniest little smile on his face as she told him in detail. The grief and sorrow were still lingering in the depths of her brilliant eyes, but it was obvious to Aesop that the girl would be alright.

She was a tough one.

Why he kept on inviting her for their little talks after that, he didn’t know. At least, he wouldn’t admit it to himself. The truth was, he grew rather… accustomed to the girl. While there was an air of youth around her, she was incredibly mature for her years - the potions master didn’t know whether that was due to her upbringing, or the events of her fifth year - and could easily hold any sort of conversational topic he threw at her, her sentences measured and thoughtful. She was able to perceive a lot of things with grace many adults dreamed of possessing, yet she was always honest and genuine about what she said.

The more they met up, the more he could see her relax around him, and the professor had to admit that he felt more calm and content in her presence as well. It caught him off guard the first time he (accidentally) made her laugh; he just finished with some highly ironic, long-suffering monologue about students’ behaviour in his classroom, and the respect they seem to (not) have for the space, when the sound of her laughter cut through the air.

He blinked in surprise, genuinely not having expected the reaction. Which is not to say he didn’t highly enjoy it. He felt the corner of his lips curl up as he watched her. The Ravenclaw's eyes were closed, her head tipped slightly back, her hand clasped over her chest. Her laughter was completely unadulterated, strangely melodic, and quite addictive. Aesop waited for her to finish before speaking, a sort of mischievousness and cheek he thought he lost long ago colouring his own voice.

“I’m glad you find my utmost misery amusing, Miss (L/N).”

“Oh, Sir!”

—

Aesop hated having someone go through his things.

His workspace was always almost pristine, well organised, no unnecessary clutter. After all, potions were a tricky and potentially dangerous subject, and one errant sneeze could prove disastrous, so he required his students to always keep their potions stations clean and well organised, and practised as he preached. When it came to his living space, though… he was not nearly as meticulous.

He might as well be honest with himself - his rooms were quite the mess. Despite staying at Hogwarts for ten months at a time, he pretty much lived out of his trunk, and only stored his clothes inside the wardrobe after the house elves washed them. He also kept leaving his clothes out for them to wash always inside of his sitting room as opposed to his bedroom, and he had explicitly told them not to clean that chamber.

Aesop knew he was being rather ridiculous, the Hogwarts house elves probably saw rooms much, much messier than his in their lifetimes, not to mention they most likely witnessed even worse kinds of messes. However, the professor was simply uncomfortable knowing there was somebody going through his things. His rooms were cleaned over the summer, then left alone once more, when he moved back in at the end of the summer. He kept telling himself he was going to tidy up himself, but then every time he actually arrived at his chambers, he was just so utterly exhausted, all plans about tidying up went out of the window.

Now, though, he really needed to get on with it. He invited the young Ravenclaw to his room in a moment of madness. Except, it did make some semblance of sense - after all, Faculty tower and Ravenclaw tower were quite close to each other, separated by a single flight of stairs in the Grand staircase, and seeing as they usually spoke late into the evening, it was simply more convenient for the girl to be close to her common room, and for Aesop to not have to go anywhere

His stomach tensed as he observed the state of his rooms, prepared himself to do something he’s not done in the decade he’s worked here.

“Um…Deek?”

Not five seconds later, there was an audible pop as the older house elf appeared before Aesop’s eyes.

Matilda always praised her old elf friend, and Deek himself insisted he was available to anyone who may need him. Aesop asked for his aid in other matters before, and was fairly fond of the elf. He could almost say he trusted him the most out of all the house elves.

“Good afternoon, professor Sharp,” Deek greeted with a smile on his face, “how may Deek assist today?”

Aesop swallowed heavily and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry to be taking you away from your other responsibilities, Deek, but I wanted to ask if… if you’d be so kind and tidy up my chambers for me.”

Deek beamed up at him, his wrinkly face twisting into a look of utmost elation, one Aesop couldn’t understand. He never saw anyone so happy at the idea of cleaning. “But of course, sir! Deek will gladly clean professor Sharp’s rooms. Is… is Deek allowed to clean the bedchamber as well?” Aesop sighed once more: “Yes… it’s especially the bedroom that needs cleaning. I’m sorry to be bothering you with this Deek, I know I could’ve chosen absolutely any house elf and not take you away from your other work.”

“Oh, absolutely not, sir! Professor Sharp could’ve chosen any other house elf, yet he chose Deek. Deek finds it an honour. The professor needn’t worry, Deek shall leave his chambers spick and span!”

And with that, Aesop nodded and excused himself. He did trust Deek, and he knew the house elf would do a good job and not judge him for the mess his rooms were, but he still needed something to occupy himself with while he waited.

Dinah Hecat was surprised to see him in front of her door. “Hello, Dinah. Have I ever told you that your room is absolutely the worst?” Aesop grit his teeth, as his hand absentmindedly went to his bad leg, very sore after climbing the several flights of stairs in order to get to Dinah’s chambers above the Trophy room. Even with the usage of Floo flames, it was still quite the climb.

“Not in the past week, no. Come on in, Aesop, I just made tea.”

—

Once Aesop entered his rooms later that afternoon, he almost felt like he accidentally broke into someone else’s chambers. Which was a ridiculous exaggeration, of course, but he still felt like the space was brand new, even cleaner than it was after the summer. Deek wasn’t lying when he promised he’d leave the place ‘spick and span’. Even stains that seemed to never go away were nowhere to be found. Upon the large chest in his sitting room was a letter, positioned so he’d see it immediately. He hobbled over to the chest, grabbed the parchment and turned around to half lean against, half sit on the chest.

Professor Sharp,

Deek took the liberty to also wash all items of used clothing. Professor Sharp shall find all of his clothes ironed and folded within his wardrobe. Deek also implores that Professor Sharp never hesitates to turn to Deek for any help he may require. Deek is happy to be of service.

Respectfully,

Deek

That house elf was a treasure, Aesop thought, as he neatly folded the letter again and made his way to the bedroom. If he thought the difference was dramatic in the sitting room, he almost had to scrape his jaw off the ground when he entered the room. Like night and day. The bedchamber was spotless. The sheets and blankets were as vibrant in colour as the day he first bought them, and they made a light soapy smell linger in the dim room pleasantly. His chairs and floor were barren of all items of clothing, and Aesop could see his trunks have clearly been emptied of their contents and moved to the corner of the room.

Fires were burning in the hearths, and it gave the rooms a genuinely cosy atmosphere. Aesop couldn’t help but breathe a content little sigh. He should’ve done this a long time ago. Being in the clean space actually improved his already pretty okay mood, and he couldn’t wait to welcome his favourite student to the comfort of his now very comfortable chambers and share a cup of tea here, as opposed to the damp coldness of the dungeons.

The evening couldn't come soon enough.

—

Aesop felt just slightly self conscious as he did finally welcome her. She was looking around the room curiously, taking in all the little details, all the little knick-knacks he collected over the years. “You have very lovely chambers, sir,” she said softly then. “Except maybe for that hand sticking out of the box. That is a little creepy,” she added with a chuckle, and Aesop cringed. Why did he still keep that? Yes, it was a memento from one of his first cases as a full-blown Auror, but it was still a severed, mummified hand sticking out of a box.

“I’m sorry,” he didn’t know why exactly he felt the need to apologise. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable… What if just being alone with him in his private rooms made her uncomfortable? He asked himself then, a twinge of panic coursing through him. To his surprise, the girl chuckled again. She held his gaze, looking completely at ease, even crossing her leg over the other and leaning further against the backrest of the armchair he set out for her in his sitting room.

“It’s alright sir,” she chirped, “I think we both know it takes a lot more than a disembodied hand to scare me.”

There was a certain undertone in her voice he didn’t exactly like. It was the testament of the horrors she faced last year, things no fifteen/sixteen year old should face. Things nobody should ever face. In an attempt to distract her, he shifted his attention to the canvas bag that was lying by her feet. Of course the girl once again brought some ingredients with her, and while Aesop was grateful, he also had to admit he was running out of space for them. He didn’t want the Ravenclaw to feel bad by rejecting her little presents, though, so he asked with a smile:

“Are those more potion ingredients?” The young woman nodded at him, a small blush creeping onto her cheeks. Aesop chuckled: “Good heavens, lass! Soon enough I won’t have enough space in the classroom to teach you lot, because it’ll be filled with a lifetime supply of Acromantula venom and unicorn hair! Why don’t you bring something sweet we can nibble on instead next time, hm?”

It would appear she had as much of a sweet tooth as he, for the next time she came around, there were several slices of treacle tart in that bag of hers.

—

Aesop Sharp hadn’t shown anyone his work in…a very long time. Not even Dinah. No, he closed himself off absolutely when he drew. For some reason however, he wanted the Ravenclaw to see. She let him see so much of her in those times they met, he supposed it was only fair she saw this side of him as well. He was ridiculously giddy about the decision. Seeing her eyes light up, as she fascinatedly observed and commented on each and every one of his drawings, not to mention the paintings of various beasts upon the walls, made a no small amount of pride bubble within his chest.

And later that night, when he lay sleeping in bed, he saw her sitting in front of the fireplace that transformed into the doorway to his atelier. She was snuggled up in the armchair, legs crossed, a cup of tea in her hand as she looked pensively into the flames. Looking down, Aesop realised his fingers were blackened from coal, because he was in the middle of creating her copy on the parchment.

—

The young woman made climbing entire flights of stairs actually quite worth it, thought Aesop as he stroked the Thestral mare’s neck. It was smooth and warm under his fingertips.

Aesop was fond of Thestrals. He’d occasionally go and see them in the stables when his leg was feeling up to the task, but this was somehow different. These weren’t Thestrals from the Hogwarts herd, these were actual wild Thestrals from the Highlands, perhaps even the Forbidden forest! How on earth did this girl manage to bring them here? How did she make them this friendly and tame? What even was this place, and how did he not know about it in all of the years he spent inside the castle?

All these thoughts running through his head were put on hold when she began talking.

They had a number of things in common, and it would seem their opinions on Thestrals would be another. When she finished speaking, Aesop couldn’t stop himself from reaching out, holding her small hand in his own. “There is no without,” he said. “They may not be around to talk to us, but as long as we remember them fondly, as long as we still let them guide us, they will never be really gone.” These were the words his mother said to him when his father, her husband, died.

They comforted him then, and he hoped it would be comfort they’d bring to (F/N)(L/N) too.

After their tea, she showed him around the so-called Room of Requirement. Aesop was amazed when he found there were even more potions stations in another room down the stairs, five, six, no, eight more, in fact! Figures the girl was at the top of his class, she obviously brewed a lot, and the ingredients she grew herself were looking much better than he’d ever manage to grow on his own.

Just as there were working areas within the large chambers, there were leisure spots as well. Sofas and armchairs, plenty of blankets, rugs, and various decorations. He saw a few game tables, many of which had a little stack of pillows upon one of the chairs next to them. It felt … homely. A safe, comfortable space, where the young Ravenclaw was able to hone her skills in peace, away from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the castle. Had there not been so many stairs to get into this room, Aesop would’ve almost asked whether she’d share it with him.

But, no. This was her own space. He was just glad that she allowed him to see it.

It did feel a little strange, though. Out of all the people she could’ve told about this room, out of all of her friends, she chose him to aid in carrying this amazing secret. It made him feel oddly special. Made a strange warm feeling flow around in his stomach, made his heartbeat increase ever so slightly. And when she gave him a bright, conspiratorial grin, the potions master was sure his heart skipped a beat. And just like that, a new emotion spread within him, one that he didn’t quite recognise just yet, but it was absolutely there, and it made him shiver.

—

Aesop didn’t know why he didn’t let go of her hand while they sipped on their tea. Maybe it was just a natural instinct, maybe it was the comfort it seemed to bring her. The comfort it brought him. His thumb stroked along the back of her hand, the skin there soft and delicate. And when she turned her hand, and their palms connected, it felt like a small sizzle of electricity.

The potions master swallowed heavily. The simple touch of her hand on his made that new emotion flutter through him again. “I thought about what you said,” he spoke softly, his voice lacking its usual gruff and acuteness. The young woman only tilted her head slightly, signalling her full attention to him.”Death, while not intentionally cruel, is still a scary concept. I saw plenty of it. And the Thestrals… they used to make me nervous. But then… then my partner died. And later I came here. And one of the Hogwarts Thestrals, the ones that pull the carriages, approached me on the grounds. It was the first time the beast didn’t make my hair stand on end.

“It nudged its face against my hand, wanted me to pet it. So I did. I think they… they are exactly what a person needs to see…” Aesop felt his eyes getting warmer and damper, but knew he wouldn’t cry. He felt her hand close tighter around his own, and squeezed hers in return. The potions master looked around the room they were sitting in, bathed in soft blue light, its atmosphere that of absolute peace. The two of them stayed in the still and quiet, hands connected between their armrests.

Upon waking up, Aesop thought about the dream for a while. He was still of the opinion that these dreams of his… that they were just the reverberations of his waking mind, but something about them just made him feel strangely on edge. They were just too… lifelike. They felt so real, that his mind was in a state of confusion for several minutes after he woke up, wondering where did the girl go.

Nevertheless, he was in the end quite glad that it were quiet talks in a magical room that he dreamed about, as opposed to cold nights in Scarborough harbour.

—

If anyone told Aesop a week ago that he was going to touch a Graphorn that was kept by a sixth year student within the school walls, he would’ve probably called them insane, and requested their immediate visit of the hospital wing, so that Nurse Blainey could check them for head trauma. Now, however, as the potion master stood still like a statue with his hand outstretched while the huge beast sniffed at it, he was very much sweating bullets. Only when he was absolutely sure the creature wouldn’t attempt to bite his arm off and then some, did he actually reach a little further to touch its snout. It was cool and hard to the touch, and the graphorn’s immense power could be felt in a single exhale of its damp breath. Soon enough, Aesop took his hand away once more and stepped back, more than wary of the beast that could maul both him and (F/N) to death within mere seconds if it so wished.

He watched in shock as the young Ravenclaw approached it without a hint of fear and stroked the tentacle-like appendages by its mouth, before letting her hands travel up its razor sharp looking tusks and petting the tough hide there, like this elephant sized apex predator was nothing but a mere house cat.

How?

The Ravenclaw told him about the trials - she mentioned them before, but only ever described them as ‘challenges to prove she was worthy of handling her ancient magic abilities, as well keeping the Keepers’ secret safe’. Never before it occurred to Aesop that they could be something as suicidal as subduing a Graphorn!

So she told him more, this time in those seats they sat in previously, which Aesop was grateful for. Not only because it meant he (probably) didn’t need to constantly watch out for a Graphorn intent on tearing him to pieces

(“He wouldn’t tear you into pieces, sir, he’s actually a very sweet fellow” - “a very SWEET FELLOW?!”),

but also because he absolutely needed to be sitting down for some of the stories she told him.

Suffice to say, the potions master didn’t know whether to feel impressed, angry, or absolutely terrified, and by the time she finished talking, he wondered whether the Keepers’ portraits in that ‘Map Chamber’ were fire resistant.

“You… you do realise you’re lucky you didn’t die, right?” he asked, his voice quiet. (F/N) was a clever young woman, why would she agree to undergo such decidedly suicidal tasks voluntarily? Just to protect the wizarding world? Because she believed it to be her fate? Or maybe she didn’t know just how dangerous it truly would be? Whatever the reason was, it made Aesop genuinely surprised that not only was she alive, but she appeared as healthy as ever.

The look she gave him then was one of understanding, as if she was a Legilimens reading his exact thoughts. “I do,” she said simply, “I took a lot of risks. And I honestly think it was a stupid amount of luck rather than skill that kept me alive.” The next sentence she didn’t say. She didn’t need to, Aesop heard it clear as day; ‘If the need arose, I would do it again.’

And yes, Aesop reckoned she would. If it meant saving even just one innocent life, (F/N) (L/N) would take on whatever came her way, were it mongrels, trolls, inferi or graphorns. Aesop wanted to scoff and say something about ‘Gryffindor qualities’. However, he knew that would make him an absolute hypocrite, because was she to ask for his help, Aesop knew he would hobble over, wand drawn and gladly fight by her side. On the other hand, though, after everything she’s been through, one thing he wanted most of all was for her to never have to fight again…

It took him somewhat by surprise. That is, how close he’s grown to the young woman over the course of a year and a bit. He wondered if he would care this much was she anyone else, if the person to have gone through what she went through was somebody else. It was his duty to protect all of his students, but this one… this one was special. She was somehow… a little more important to him than the rest, even than the members of his own house. The thought itself was almost… frightening.

Therefore, Aesop cleared his throat. “Do you think… Do you think you could show me some of your magic? How you use it in combat, that is.”

The Ravenclaw, who was apparently as lost in her own head as he was before he spoke blinked quickly. “Sorry, sir?” she asked, clearly not having heard a word he said. “I asked whether you could show me the use of your ancient magic in combat.” he repeated patiently. “Oh!” her eyes widened in realisation, “um… not against you, though, right?” An unexpected chuckle broke from Aesop’s mouth, quickly followed by another: “Merlin, no. I’d very much like to leave here in one piece, thank you very much. I meant some training dummies. Surely you must have at least one around here, don’t you?” “Well, I-”

Before (F/N) finished her sentence, the entire room began shaking. Aesop quickly grabbed his armrests and looked around the room with a slightly panicked expression. “Sir, look!” said the girl excitedly then, seemingly unbothered about the impromptu earthquake. The potions master followed her gaze to the little alcove on the right side of the room, between two staircases. The statue that stood there began sinking into the ground and a corridor started forming in its place. From his position, Aesop could see a staircase materialising, and then not much else.

The young woman jumped up and, even as the room was still shaking, started running towards the source, disappearing soon from his sight. “Miss (L/N)-” Aesop called and reached for her in vain. The tremors stopped barely fifteen seconds later.

“Merlin’s beard!” the girl called out in awe. The sound of rapid footfalls followed, until she once more appeared in his field of view, a large grin on her face. “Sir, you’ve got to see this,” she said and offered her hand to him where he was still sitting in one of the armchairs. Reluctantly, the teacher took her hand and let himself be pulled up. Since she didn’t let go once he was securely on his feet once more, Aesop took it as an invite to lean a bit of his weight against her as she led him to a room that wasn’t there two minutes ago.

When they descended the small flight of stairs, Aesop’s eyes widened. They entered a large room with a tall ceiling, barren of almost any furniture. Instead, in a neat row stood 5 training dummies, ready to be practised on. The room was large enough for a proper wizarding duel, and there were even some props in one corner Aesop presumed were to be used as things behind which one would be able to duck and cover.

“This place is spectacular,” Aesop said with no small amount of wonder in his voice, before looking at the Ravenclaw. She was still holding onto his arm, bracing him so that he wouldn’t put too much weight on his bad leg, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her. And when she turned her head towards him, he realised just how close they were. He felt a bit of colour rush into his cheeks as he cleared his throat and slowly stepped away, immediately feeling a little colder.

“Well, Miss (L/N)... whenever you’re ready.”

The young woman smiled and nodded at him, before taking off her cloak, leaving herself in a white shirt with tie and a pair of dark bloomers. She then stood facing the training dummies and drew her wand.

Aesop was in for quite the show.

Gooseflesh appeared on his arms as he literally felt the air ripple with magic, bright blue light appearing at the tip of (F/N)'s wand. The first training dummy was lifted off the ground and promptly thrown back again, then again, then again. It broke upon the last impact, splinters flying in all directions. The next dummy was hit with a different sort of spell - it was dragged towards the girl, shrinking as it went until it was the size of nothing more than a mouse, at which point the Ravenclaw lifted her foot and stomped down on it. Third dummy exploded into nothing but fine dust.

And then, in a display more spectacular than Aesop ever saw in his entire life, he watched the young woman lift her wand high into the air and felt the way she gathered up the magic in the air all around them inside of her wand, before bringing it down upon the figurine in like a lightning bolt, so bright he had to shield his eyes. The sound it made upon making contact with its target was cathartic, a loud thunder like bang as not only the target, but also the last training dummy next to it exploded, more splinters flying around.

When the dust settled, the potions master looked at her in awe. The girl was incredible. She stood still with her wand drawn, her hair messed up slightly, a drop of sweat appearing at her hairline. Aesop felt his heart flutter.

She was beautiful.

Aesop stood there, breathing deeply, absolutely caught off guard by the display of her power. She hadn't uttered a single incantation. The power this girl held at her fingertips was both terrific and terrifying, and yet Aesop didn't feel worried… If anyone was meant to wield such power, he honestly couldn't imagine a better person for the job.

And when she turned around to face him, her face bearing a beaming smile, his heart fluttered again and Aesop found himself grinning back at her. When she walked back to him, Aesop's hand lifted as if on its own accord and he brushed a stray hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear before he realised what he was doing and promptly took his hand away.

He cleared his throat.

"Well… that was quite the display, Miss (L/N). Thank you for showing me. With such prowess, it's no wonder you were able to defend yourself as you have."

The young woman smiled at him, and Aesop could see a speck of colour rushing into her cheeks. "Well. I cannot use it all the time, it takes a while for it to accumulate. I mostly use the spells you and the other professors taught me."

"Oh? In that case, perhaps I actually would be willing to engage in a friendly duel. As long as you promise not to turn me into dust, that is."

The grin that appeared on her face then sent a wave of giddiness through him, one Aesop didn't feel in quite a long time, his heart pounding in his chest.

"I promise, sir."

—

They had themselves a little sparring session, adrenaline running through his veins as he dodged and blocked the spells sent his way, as he sent his own in return. She’s not mastered her nonverbal magic as of yet, which played into his cards, but it was almost no use to him as the young woman was quick on her feet, and for every non-verbal incantations he threw at her, she managed to send three back at him. He felt alive like he had not in years - he’d occasionally spar with Dinah or Abraham, but them being already masters in their fields, not to mention having known and duelled with them for years, the potions master could hold his own (though he knew if she wanted, Dinah could still very easily kick his sorry arse).

When it came to this young Ravenclaw however, her moderate newness to the art of duelling actually made her more dangerous, as she was unpredictable, Aesop didn’t know what to expect from her. He was able to prepare himself for a few spells, as he saw the beginning of her wand movements, but it was still quite the thrill. Was his focus to waver for a single second, the professor could very easily have both his body and his pride severely wounded. He felt himself grinning throughout their entire little duel.

He did win in the end. She moved her arm a little too ardently for her Confringo (and who on earth taught her that spell) and it cost her the precious time she needed to counter his Levioso. Aesop walked over the young woman suspended in the air with an expression that was slightly verging on smug. To his surprise, the girl was smiling back at him joyfully.

“I must say, Miss (L/N)... that was rather impressive. Had you not said that Glacius some minutes ago out loud, you’d still be thawing me right now. Do tell, where did you learn the Blasting curse?”

“A friend taught me…”

“I see… It’s not exactly a curriculum approved spell. Though, seeing that you’ve most likely used it only in your defence, as I haven’t heard any rumours concerning a Ravenclaw blasting her classmates through the corridors, I won’t make you tell me who it was.”

“I appreciate it, sir.”

“I will, however,” Aesop cast a non-verbal Finite on the young woman, who was quickly lowered back onto her two feet, “guide your hand in casting the spell. Movements this wild could easily result in the loss of your eyebrows, and I rather think that would not exactly go with the otherwise aesthetic qualities of your face.”

Where did that come from? Aesop was glad the young woman was currently brushing at her clothes and was not looking at him, because otherwise she’d see the bit of blood rushing into his cheeks. Did he just compliment her looks?

“Thank you, professor Sharp. I’d like that very much.”

—

At night that scene played out in his head once more, and he saw himself behind her, holding onto her dominant hand with his own, guiding her wrist through the air as she sent a blasting curse after blasting curse on more training dummies the Room was ever so helpful to provide.

“Keep your hand away from your body, you don’t want to set yourself aflame, but don’t swing it so much either. Your arm stays stationary while your wrist moves,” he instructed, stepping closer behind her to grip her wrist tighter and keep her arm from flailing. Her back was mere inches from his chest, and yet he felt her warmth seep through both her and his clothes, felt her presence as well as her magic in front of him, he felt it thrum through her veins underneath his fingers on her pulse point. It was nearly intoxicating.

The next Confringo she cast was nearly flawless, and in turn powerful - the recoil made the young woman stumble back somewhat, right into his torso, and his free hand instinctively came to steady her by grabbing onto her left shoulder.

At least that’s what Aesop remembered happening several hours ago.

Now, however, his hand went to grip at her hip instead, and unlike before, he didn’t let go of her immediately after he was sure she wouldn’t fall. No, he felt her warm flesh in his hand, as real as could be, felt the curve of her back under his sternum, her bottom against his thighs.

What’s going on? He asked himself even as he heard ‘Well done, (F/N)’ leave his own lips. The young woman turned her head to look at him, her eyes sparkling with the light of the various torches along the walls. Aesop released her wrist in order to trace his calloused forefinger from her cheekbone down her jaw, until he reached her chin. He lifted it up ever so slightly, his own face moving closer, so close he felt her warm breath on his lips, which he unconsciously licked.

However, just as (F/N) closed her eyes and leaned her head to the side, Aesop’s eyes opened. He could feel sweat upon his brow as he stared up into the ceiling of his bedroom.

What in the name of Merlin’s holey underpants?

Has he… has he really just woken up from a dream in which he (nearly) kissed his student? Well, technically, she was the one to lean forward, but it was his dream. He held the young woman by her hip, kept her pressed against his body. What was going on with him, surely he wasn’t attracted to his student who only just came of age a few weeks ago! No, no, that couldn’t be. He just spent a lot of time with her, the potions master reasoned, he spent more time with her than with any other student and that was it. He was fond of her and he saw her often, and his mind was just terribly tired and made up nonsensical dreams, little tidbits of newest memories coupled with his brain sorting through itself.

That was it. Surely, that must be it.

It was perfectly normal, completely natural. His relationship with the young Ravenclaw was platonic and that’s how it was going to stay, his dreams had absolutely no meaning.

Only once Aesop nodded to himself and closed his eyes again, only once he felt the pull of sleep upon his consciousness once more, did two simple thoughts fly through his mind.

Why did he remember the dreams?

And why was his heart beating like mad when he thought back on them?

—

Aesop never spent too much time picking out Christmas presents. He didn’t need to, as there were only a handful of people for whom he bought something, and he preferred to keep it simple. A bottle of something good and strong for Abraham, coupled with some confectionery from Honeydukes, or perhaps a trick from Zonko’s. A good book and a fine scarf for Dinah to battle the cold nights in the castle. And last but not least, some good French wine for his mother as well as the perfume she always wore. That was Christmas shopping for Aesop. Quick and simple. And then, as he hobbled down the street of Hogsmeade on his way to the Three Broomsticks for maybe a quick bite, but really for a stiff drink, he saw it. Behind the window of Tomes and Scrolls, a leather-bound journal. Which wouldn’t be all that spectacular, had the journal not have had a very beautiful thestral engraved into its cover.

Aesop instantly thought of his student.

He stared at the beautiful journal for several minutes, lost in thought. It would be a lovely present, thoughtful and genuine, but… Would it be appropriate? Would she even like it? What if it made her uncomfortable? After a while during which he tapped at the ground with his cane contemplatively, he entered the shop.

Aesop reappeared on the streets of Hogsmeade less than five minutes later, journal in hand. The thestral stood out beautifully against the dark, shiny leather - as did the young Ravenclaw’s full name on the other side where he had it added.

The mulled mead and roasted turkey he had in Sirona’s pub obviously did him some good, as the pain in his leg was feeling more annoying than unbearable, and once he arrived back at the Faculty tower by Floo and made his way to his chambers, sitting down at his desk, it was merely a thrum somewhere under his skin. He checked what he bought with his short list, and contentedly checked everything off. As he slowly unpacked everything he bought that day, the journal caught his eye once more.

Aesop laid it upon his desk and opened it, running his fingers over the paper. It was of good quality, ink would neither blot on or seep through the pages. He didn’t even know if the young woman wrote a diary (he sure didn’t), but it was still a nice journal nonetheless, one that could be used for anything. It occurred to him that he should perhaps leave an inscription - some sort of short message, or a useful piece of advice.

However, as he dipped his quill (made from the Phoenix feather she brought him) into ink and brought it down upon the first page of the journal, he found he… didn’t quite know just what he should write.

“Shortcuts only ever lead to shortcomings,” felt too impersonal after everything that happened between the two of them. And whatever friendlier, more personal message he could write made him slightly cringe inside.The potions master sighed deeply, resting his head on his face. In his movement, he accidentally touched the tip of his quill over the page, making a small lone line. Damn it.

Well, he will be removing this page anyway, he might as well try if that paper truly was as good as it seemed.

And so Aesop made another line. And then another. And before he knew it, the lines began forming an image. An image of a bench in the Transfiguration courtyard, the one hidden in the shadow of the alcove by the water.

(F/N) loved to study there. She told him so herself, but he also recalled seeing the Ravenclaw there on his way to the staff room several times, tucked away in the corner, reading a book, watching the birds, occasionally observing whatever was going on in the courtyard itself.

Aesop kept on scribbling, now fully immersed in both his creation, and his thoughts, and once he was absolutely certain there was no detail left for him to draw and pinpoint, no mistake he’d need to correct, he looked at his work. It was one of his better ones, at least in his opinion. He couldn’t wish for more, he supposed, not when he was drawing from memory. His long digits dragged over the paper, able to feel where the sharp tip of his quill dipped into the paper, leaving behind scratches and creases. His fingers were clean when he pulled them back and the drawing was unharmed as well.

As a last test, Aesop turned the page. The other side of it was as blank as could be, completely intact, uncreased, bearing absolutely no sign of his work. The professor actually allowed himself a content little grin. This was good paper.

Just as he prepared to separate the page from the journal however, Aesop looked upon his sketch once more. He could either spend another hour thinking up possible inscriptions before finally settling on something dry and boring, or… Or he could leave his drawing there in its place. No words, just this. For some reason, the potions master thought it spoke more than any words could.

—

Aesop took lungfuls of cool air, getting high on the feeling of sitting on a hippogriff's back and gliding through the cool night. His limbs were growing a little numb from the cold, and yet he held on, his arms wrapped around (F/N) (L/N)'s torso.

The potions master found himself resting his chin on her shoulder as he amazedly took in the beauty of Scottish highlands all wrapped up in the gentle darkness of the spring night.

When the mighty beast began descending to the lush grass of the Flying lawn once more, Aesop felt several emotions at once. He was a little glad to be rid of the wind nipping at his nose and ears, but that was overshadowed by a strange feeling of loss. He was greatly enjoying the flight, the thrill of it. Most of all though, he hated the idea that once they came to a stop, he'd have to release the girl from his hold and bid her goodnight.

So when the inevitable came, he stole a few more moments, just a short couple of seconds during which he held her as tightly as if he would still fall hundreds of feet down was he to let go. And amazingly, the girl seemed to be in no rush to get off the hippogriff either. Finally he let her go and let her climb down, gladly accepting her help when it was time for him to do the same. He sent her off to her dormitory, knowing that was he to spend more time in her intoxicating presence under the heavy cloak of darkness he might… might do what exactly?

He was entirely not ready for her to squeeze his hand and press a kiss to his scarred cheek.

And when she did so, Aesop did not let go of her hand. No, he pulled her closer and captured her in a tight embrace. She didn't fight him at all, in fact, her arms immediately went to close around his waist, and her face pressed into the lapel of his overcoat. She's grown taller since he first met her, but he still towered over her. His nose buried in her hair, breathing in her shampoo, as the fingers of one of his hands tangled into the soft locks.

The potions master heard himself breathe heavily as he pressed the young woman into his chest, hyper aware of how absolutely he surrounded her smaller form, how warm she felt in his arms.

He was grateful to her. She helped him forget the world, at least for a little while. Understanding. Accepting.

When he finally let her go, the Ravenclaw was smiling at him: “Are you quite certain you don’t want me to walk you to your rooms, sir?” Aesop wasn’t quite certain about nearly everything at the moment, everything except one thing: “Let us go then.” And just as she moved to his side with another smile, holding onto his arm and letting him lean against her, Aesop shivered, the cold of the spring air jerking him awake.

He blindly pulled his blanket, which had pooled around his waist and left his upper body bare, higher. Its weight and warmth instantly reminded him of the dream he just woke up from.

That was rather… curious.

Now, Aesop Sharp didn’t hug his students. He remembered the few times over the years during which he perhaps clasped a hand on the shoulder of a future Auror whom he’d given his recommendation, and then there were the handshakes with graduated students, but he never came into physical contact with a student otherwise. Until now.

As he pondered the matter at hand, still gripping onto his blanket, the light coming from his sitting room got brighter and warmer. Aesop didn’t really think about all the touches he and the Ravenclaw shared over the previous year. All of them simply felt so… natural, from the first time he embraced her that cold night on the Astronomy tower, all the way to the time he guided her hand to cast the perfect Confringo.

Should it feel this natural? They were friends after all, as strange as that was too. Aesop was fond of the girl, and he doubted she’d seek his company as he seeked hers if she wasn’t fond of him as well. Maybe it was natural - after all, he shared amicable touches with Dinah as well, not to mention Abraham’s fondness of always having a hand on the younger man’s shoulder and back.

It’s alright, Aesop decided.

It was fine, they were friends, neither of them was uncomfortable, both enjoyed the closeness.

The fact that it felt entirely different to have (F/N) touch him, he buried deep within the ground, and the subconscious feeling that Aesop knew exactly how different he felt, he buried even deeper.

—

“You’ve been spending quite a lot of time with that special Eagle of mine, Aesop,” said Dinah one time as she poured a generous amount of Firewhisky into two tumblers. The two teachers were sitting in her sizable chambers, both poring over stacks of essays to grade, sharing the ridiculous things some students wrote on their parchments, and occasionally discussing if certain parts deserve additional points. It was probably the most fun a Hogwarts professor could have on a Friday night without taking their clothes off.

Well, not really. But it was absolutely more entertaining than grading essays by himself.

“Huh?” asked Aesop eloquently. He didn’t even know why exactly. He heard his friend perfectly. He could’ve easily answered something like ‘Yes, I’ve grown fond of her, I see her as my friend’, or maybe even ‘I’m just watching over her’, but the way his heart sped up when she stated her observation, and the way his chest closed up slightly made him choke on his words.

“Just that you invite her for tea quite often, you’ve never done so with a student. Are you preparing her for the Auror office?” “Heavens, no,” he replied, maybe way too quickly. Soon, the potions master cleared his throat. “I don’t… I don’t think she wants to be an Auror, Dinah. She could be one, certainly, she’s got the intellect and the skills, but I don’t think that’s the career path she’d want to take.”

“Oh,” asked the DADA teacher, forgetting her work momentarily to peer at him curiously, her chin resting on her hand, “have you talked about career paths?” Aesop, swallowed, feeling like she could see right through him. What exactly she could see he didn’t know. “Among other things,” he sighed, “listen, I explained the situation in my letter, back in April. What she went through was nothing short of traumatising.” The woman gave him a short look of understanding, before pressing further: “She certainly seems to be doing much better than she was, no doubt thanks to your help as well. Your continuous help.”

“Maybe I have become appreciative of her company? She’s a rather pleasant conversation partner. And she doesn’t interrogate me, unlike some people,” Aesop replied, a little annoyance in his voice. That made Dinah grin widely: “Oh, I’m sorry Aesop,” she didn’t sound sorry at all, “I’m just curious, that’s all. No need for you to throw a hissy fit.” Aesop rolled his eyes.

“It is quite interesting, still. Young, pretty woman, and instead of breaking hearts, she spends a large part of her free time with her gruff potions professor. She must like you a lot.” Aesop didn’t even bother to answer, instead burying his nose further into his work. Positioned like this, he couldn’t see the tiniest hint of a smirk on professor Hecat’s face.

—

They were sitting on that frankly uncomfortable bench under the spiral stairwell to Ravenclaw tower again. It was different this time, however. The young lady was clearly a year older than she was when this actually happened. Seventeen, young and yet so mature. Her features were those of a woman. Her eyes were different too, instead of the grief filled wells he saw at this exact spot a year ago, they held the calmness of the Black lake, deep, dark, mysterious and alluring. And despite the fact it was obvious Aesop wasn’t currently in the middle of comforting her, his large hand still stayed on her back, drawing nonsensical patterns with his thumb.

“Why, sir?” she asked softly, her head leaning to the side with genuine curiosity. Aesop blinked in confusion: “Why what, (F/N)?”

“Why do you still want me around?”

Aesop knew he was dreaming, but he felt trapped in his body. It did everything on its own accord, moving, speaking… feeling. His free hand found hers on her own knee. “I… care about you. Is that not enough?” he heard himself say, his heart pounding. He had no control about what he said and did, merely an observant. The beautiful young woman leaned closer to him, her cheeks were pink, and there was a smile on her face, more radiant than any star Aesop’s ever seen. She squeezed his hand: “That’s everything, sir.”

Aesop rested his forehead against her own in a moment so intimate, it made his heart clench in his chest. Their breath mingled as they stared into each other’s eyes, the connection between them almost tangible. Aesop could feel the pulse in her wrist as he held onto her hand, could feel his own heart beating in the same rhythm. Within the little shared space between them, they weren’t a professor and his student, they weren’t a former Auror and a bearer of ancient magic. They were simply two kindred spirits, two bruised souls that were simply trying to keep up with the world around them while they healed.

And when Aesop woke up, he did so with his chest constricted with emotion, and a deep sense of connection and belonging. He lay on his back in his bed, his hand over his heart as he breathed deeply. He began to grow quite worried about the rate in which the young Ravenclaw appeared inside of his dreams, not to mention their direction…

There was no direction. There couldn’t be. Could it?

—

Aesop found himself looking forward to those evenings he would spend in the young woman’s company. Were they discussing matters of education, magic, and the wizarding society, or the more… personal topics. He simply felt comfortable with her, as comfortable as he rarely felt, even in the company of his two oldest friends. He told her of some of his cases - some dramatic, some terrifying, but also some positively humorous.

Like the one from his days as a very young Auror, straight out of training. An older man was hysterical because he believed he was being targeted by a dark wizard, who was an animagus taking on the appearance of a large, mean looking wolf, and was watching his house every single night menacingly. The 'victim' was so terrified, he hadn't left his home for days. As it turned out, the ‘dark wizard’ was a regular bloke whom the man cheated over in cards a week prior, but who held no grudge whatsoever, and the ‘terrifying, bloodthirsty beast’ was nothing more than a stray mutt that sat in front of the house because it could smell the man’s wife frying bacon every night. He couldn’t stop rolling his eyes back then, and his partner, well, she got herself a dog.

He couldn’t stop his heart from skipping a beat at the sound of her giggles when he told her this story, nor could he stop his eyes from falling down to focus on her lips, spread in a wide grin, white teeth sparkling in the low light of his sitting room. It was a spectacular moment, and he found himself thinking about it often.

The potions master would also notice other things.

Like the way she would clasp her hands together, neatly and elegantly, when speaking sometimes. The way she’d get comfortable in the chair she was sitting on, while still maintaining her decorum. How she lately began to toy with her hair, her nimble fingers running through it absentmindedly. The way her eyes blinked slowly at him, her eyelashes fanning against her cheeks, rosy as the fire in his hearth would warm her up. Occasionally, a single look into those brilliant eyes of hers would bring him a sense of peace, a calm before the storm almost, as nearly immediately he would feel emotions boil inside of him.

Those he wouldn’t dare give a name to.

—

It was almost the end of term when Aesop made the decision to climb the Astronomy tower yet again, and see for himself whether the young woman had been practising since their impromptu training session some half a year ago. Not to mention he wished to check up on the beasts she kept in those vivariums of hers (though, preferably, not the Graphorn one - he still wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that).

His leg was pretty cooperative that day, and by the time he finished his ascend, he was only in moderate pain, one that could easily be dulled by a vial of Wiggenweld potion, which he promptly pulled out of his coat pocket and drank in a single large gulp. He could see the door to the room clear as day, which most likely meant the Ravenclaw was already there and waiting for him.

Aesop opened the door slowly and walked in. The first room appeared to be empty, only filled with the faint sounds of the various vivariums and the occasional flapping of books flying high above. It was so strange, he’s been to this room only a few times, and yet he always felt a sense of peace wash over him whenever he entered. Maybe it was the ambiance, which felt like a summer night spent under the stars, or the near silence itself, so very unlike the hustle and bustle of the castle, even during the evening hours.

“(F/N),” he called out.

“Down here, sir!” came from the large room to the left, the one that had all of her potion stations and planters, “I’ll be there in a jiffy, please, do sit down!”

Aesop didn’t sit down. He started walking toward the alcove, and proceeded down the stairs. Immediately, he spotted the young woman, standing by a simmering cauldron. He hobbled his way over to (F/N) and stopped right behind her, maybe a little bit closer than was appropriate. His nose instantly picked up the scent of her hair, sweet and sunkissed, as well as the potion she was just finishing up.

“Felix felicis? What on earth would you need that for?” Aesop asked, not sure whether to be suspicious of her reasons to brew such a potion, or amazed she appeared to have brewed a perfect batch all by herself. She didn’t appear to mind his close proximity behind her one bit, and actually even turned her head to grin up at him.

“I’d like to say it’s something particularly insane, like robbing Gringotts, befriending a manticore, or turning Headmaster Black into a toilet seat. The truth, however, is rather boring, to be honest.”

“Oh? How is that?”

“I want to ask my parents for a favour. That is, to let me go somewhere. I’ve only been allowed at Natty’s over last summer, but apparently, when her mum doesn’t have dozens of other students to worry about, she keeps quite a close eye on her, so, you know. No adventures.”

Aesop chuckled, seeing his breath fan the hair next to her ear slightly: “After everything, you still want an adventure?” He can see the young woman roll her eyes despite her having her back to him.

“I’m not saying I’m going to go to the Bermuda triangle and, I don’t know, battle whatever lurks there, I just don’t want to be stuck between four walls for the entire summer.” The potions master murmured under his breath in understanding. He still stood close behind her, an intrusive thought to touch her popping into his head unprompted and making his hand twitch. He ignored it.

“Gave any thought to where you’d like to go?”

“No. If this succeeds and my parents say yes, I’ll just spin the globe, close my eyes, and then travel anywhere my finger lands.”

“That does sound quite adventurous.”

—

What on earth was she still doing here?

The young woman who took to occupying his dreams stood in the doorway of his classroom, dressed in a simple, muggle outfit consisting of a dark skirt that reached her ankles and accentuated the curve of her waist, a white blouse and a black cravat. It was very unusual to see her like this, as normally she only wore variations of the Ravenclaw uniform, and occasionally some combination of clothing items that she wore whenever she voyaged outside of the castle’s walls.

She looked rather… She looked quite beautiful.

“Miss (L/N), perhaps you should make your way to the Hogsmeade station. You wouldn’t want to miss your train.”

“Oh, I’ll be there before you could say Tarantallegra, sir, but even if I didn’t, there are other ways to get to London. Apparition licence, remember?”

Aesop sighed, but could not hide the way the corner of his mouth twitched. “So,” he said softly, “what brings you here, when your classmates and friends are now all sitting in carriages to Hogsmeade, merrily chatting about their plans for the summer?

“Not all of them,” she replied, a little twinkle in her eyes that made him swallow unconsciously. “Just wanted to say goodbye and wish you a pleasant summer, sir, that’s all.”

Aesop walked to the closest potion station and leaned against it, putting his injured leg over the other and crossing his arms over his chest. “Is that so? And here I was, glad to be finally free of students for the following two months," Aesop offered her a small cheeky smile to let her know he was speaking in jest. "Do you have your liquid luck, Miss (L/N)?"

The Ravenclaw grinned and reached into a small leather bag that was hanging on her shoulder, soon pulling out a tiny vial with molten gold like liquid inside. Aesop pushed himself off the potions station to hobble over next to the girl, wordlessly taking the potion out of her hand to properly look at it. The colour and consistency looked good, and he knew the student standing in front of him was meticulous in her brewing, therefore he had no problems believing the potion would work as intended.

“I'd rather not ask how a sixth year student came upon Occamy eggs. Decent job, though, very decent. What about the rest of it?” He handed the vial back and the girl hid it again, patting her bag fondly. “It’s in the Room, individually bottled, ready if the need arises. You know how to access the room now, so if you ever find yourself needing a drop of good luck, feel free to take some, sir.”

“That’s awfully kind of you, miss, but I assure you that I am perfectly capable of brewing my own luck. What’s more, I think I needn't tell you that overusing such a powerful potion could have fatal consequences.” The potions master received a sincere smile in return: “You needn’t, sir, I would rather face the world equipped with my skills, experiences, and determination, rather than with just luck - a bit of fickle that.”

The two of them stood still for a few moments, the silence between them thick, but not really uncomfortable. Finally Aesop cleared his throat: “Well. While I clearly don’t have to wish you good luck in your pursuits of summer adventures, let me do so anyway. Good luck to you, and… please, stay safe.”

Another smile touched her face, this one positively radiant. “No need to worry, professor,” she said, her tone making shivers run down Aesop’s spine, “you’ll have me back before you know it, and in one piece.” The Ravenclaw then offered her hand for a handshake, and he, for some reason, instead of shaking it raised it up and bent his neck at the same time. His lips made contact with the skin of her knuckles and Aesop closed his eyes momentarily, letting the courteous kiss linger.

He did not dare move, or even open his eyes, when the hand in his gentle hold turned to touch his face, delicate fingers ghosting over his scarred cheek. His breathing picked up as he felt each digit trace his skin, weathered by years as well as stress, featherlight touches caressing each and every little wrinkle and line. And when her thumb teased at the edge of his mouth, the potions master released a breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding, his eyes fluttering slightly.

So slowly, she stroked over his lips, thin and slightly chapped, and so unbelievably sensitive at that exact moment, it was like her touch caused tiny sparkles to go off just under the surface. And then, when that maddening thumb of hers trailed higher and stroked at his moustache, Aesop finally opened his eyes. The potions master’s hand was still loosely closed around her wrist, and he found her face to be rather closer than it was before. Her eyes, both seductive and innocent, caused his mind to cloud over, and all of his sensibility just went out of the window. In less than a second, both of his hands seized the sides of her head and he pulled her closer still. His large nose bumped into her own, their intense gazes connecting. He could feel her hot damp breath on his mouth on, on his cheeks, she was so close he smelled her perfume, utterly intoxicating,

And then, finally, he pushed his mouth against hers. It was a kiss filled with raw passion, heady and scorching hot, one that made Aesop's toes curl inside of his boots. He wasted no time, pushing his tongue into her mouth, swallowing all of her little sounds like they were the sole thing saving him from starving to death. He bit at her lips and tongue, before engaging it in a heated dance, all the while still holding her face, keeping her right there for him to taste.

Once he ran out of breath, he pulled back to look at her and now… now she was more than just beautiful, she was breathtaking. Her lips were red and swollen, ravished by him, and glistening with his saliva. To his utter amazement, they stretched into a little smile.

He tried to kiss her again.

But she was gone.

He wasn’t standing in his classroom, but lying in his own bed, in his home, miles away from Hogwarts castle. Sun was pouring into his room through the open window, and the fresh air had a sweet undertone to it. And once Aesop closed his eyes again, he swore he could still feel those plush lips against his own, he could still feel her taste upon his tongue. He surely would’ve been panicked by the dream and what it could mean, had its lingering sensations not began lulling him back to sleep.

And when he woke up again, hours later, all that remained was a faint memory, one he could easily ignore.

—

Aesop Sharp spent his summer like he usually did. The summers were nearly always the same, the only thing that ever changed was the weather. The same old routine, just like during the term.

Except no, not really.

Not for the past few years at least. Not since (F/N) (L/N) began attending school.

However, even now, as he sat on the bench near his father’s memorial, Aesop felt quite content to simply pretend it was just another boring, uneventful summer, because the truth lurking about in his subconsciousness simply felt way too terrifying to face.

No, no… It was just another dull summer. He’d gather his strength, enjoy the luxury of absolute silence and lack of students, and absolutely not think about the taste of the young Ravenclaw’s lips.

Aesop thought that not seeing her almost every day would lower the rate in which she kept visiting him in his dreams. However, no such thing happened. Some were as innocent as they used to be, just the two of them, all alone, caught in their perfect little bubble of comfort and understanding, but more often than not, his dream self would do something to shake this bubble, tilt it, rotate it until it turned into something else, something Aesop dared not name.

He could feel his psyche cracking ever so slightly, as part of him knew he was lying to himself. And it was this part that currently made his finger run along the edge of her jaw, slightly smudging the coal on the paper. Her letters made it worse. They were always perfectly friendly, professional even, and yet Aesop found his heart beating fast each time Diana the sooty owl flew in through his perpetually open window, descending upon his dining table gracefully.

She’s been treating him fairly well since he learned to read the letters immediately after she delivered them. She even let him stroke her under her beak for a few seconds once before she pecked him and flew back outside to rest in the coolness of the trees until he was ready to answer.

He read the letters and re-read them, and took his time formulating the perfect answer to whatever they were talking about at the time, potions, NEWT subjects, careers… Aesop enjoyed it the most, when she wrote to him about the way she spent her days. He liked to imagine her lying down on a blanket in her garden, maybe in some light summer dress, snacking on strawberries and reading through her seventh year transfiguration textbook. Or sitting in Hyde park, feeding the various waterfowl and sunning. Or going to the theatre, wearing some lovely formal dress that wrapped around her like a glove…

Aesop saw these images she described in her letters right in front of him, and found himself unable to resist summoning his sketchbook and coal.

He also drew on his letters to her. That hare he saw in his garden from the dining room window. The basket of tomatoes given to him by his elderly neighbour. The tree where his father started building him a house, but could never finish… And each time she commented on his drawings, always in awe and amazement, he felt a swell of pride roll through him.

Each time the dark owl hooted at him in greetings, his heart began making somersaults, and his lips spread wide as he read (F/N)’s message, and yet, at the same time, he felt on edge.

His dreams were to blame for that. Every morning he woke up after yet another dream with the young lady as their main star, the first thing Aesop felt was a pang of regret. Regret that the way she looked at him in his dreams was not real. That the way her body fit against his as she leaned into him was not real, and neither was the image of him being the one to accompany her to one of those theatres, her delicate hand upon his forearm. Soon after that, guilt followed.

And still, Aesop Sharp wouldn’t admit his own emotions to himself.

—

Some fortnight left until the start of term, he got Diana’s attention after he finished securing his letter to her leg: “I’m leaving for Hogwarts tomorrow. So, you know, bring (F/N)’s next letter there and not here.” Aesop could have sworn that the menace of an owl rolled her eyes and looked at him as if she was saying ‘What, do you think I’m stupid?’ before flying away. Aesop just stood there, looking at the swiftly disappearing owl indignantly. Cheeky bloody pigeon.

Although, Aesop had to give it to the owl - despite all of her attitude, she was most likely the quickest and most reliable owl he’s ever seen.

—

The young Ravenclaw was sitting by the hearth in his chambers, like she always did, lounging about. He was sitting right across from her, his bad leg propped up on a footstool, just a few inches from her knee. Aesop immediately noticed she seemed rather lost in thought, her beautiful eyes fixed upon the flames. “A knut for your thoughts?” the potions master offered, his own lips curling at the corners somewhat.

He didn’t expect her to extend her hand and place it on his leg, right above his ankle. Despite the thick leather boots he wore, Aesop could feel the warmth and gentleness of her touch, and when she began rubbing her thumb in circular motions, he released an involuntary sigh.

“I was just thinking how this will be my last year in Hogwarts. It’s a little unfair that everyone got to spend seven years with you, and I only three,” she said quietly. Aesop exhaled shakily, still feeling her hand on his leg, and it seemed to be trailing slightly higher, climbing up his shin.

“You’re not…” he swallowed, “you’re not going to spend four more years here, but that doesn't mean… It doesn't mean you can't spend time with me." The girl gave him a cryptic look: "And you wouldn't mind? You wouldn't mind still seeing me around, even though I'll not be your student?"

Aesop didn't notice that he opened his mouth and took a deep breath, still way too focused on her hand, now on his knee.

"No, not in the slightest… I want you around," he said simply, the words feeling rather underwhelming as opposed to the storm of emotions raging within his core. And yet, he looked into her eyes, both sincere and incredibly enigmatic. His hand covered hers on his leg, and he linked their fingers together.

The potions master was lost in thought all throughout breakfast at the Great hall, much to Dinah's intrigue. He told her his leg was acting up, and, as usual, she didn't believe his lie, but didn't ask any further questions. The large room was disturbingly quiet without the students, so quiet that he heard Mudiwa accidentally scrape her fork against her plate, all the way on the other side of the High table.

Matilda and Abraham were caught in a quiet conversation, which too sounded loud and clear within the empty hall.

"Should not take terribly long this year, between you and Mirabel, you should be done within two or three days."

"And then you shall send out the acceptance letters and lists, correct?"

"Yes. Decided to get the Muggleborns some extra time before Diagon Alley streets get too crowded, so as not to overwhelm them."

Ah, yes. In two or three days, the magical street in London will be busier than ever, packed with parents and students shopping for robes, quills, cauldrons, books and everything the young ones may need in Hogwarts - how come so many always turned up lacking these essential supplies was a mystery to Aesop.

Two or three days. In two or three days, (F/N) will also walk that street in preparation for her final year. The thought made his chest tighten, and he remembered his dream once more. He doubted that she would actually want to spend time with him after she's left. Would she? She already spent so much of her free time with him, why would it be so outlandish to hope that she'd still want his company then.

Maybe he could write to her, meet her in Diagon alley, maybe he'd be able to speak more freely outside the castle's grounds.

No. No, no. He was not going to meet her there. He knew he wouldn't be able to speak more freely even there, so why bother dragging himself and his lame leg all the way to London? He'd see her soon enough anyway, there really was no need for him to impose upon her during her last few free days of the summer break. He'd stay in the castle, get everything in order for the start of term, and watch for her arrival into the Great hall, along with everyone else.

His resolve lasted four days. On the fifth, he stood, leaning against his cane, in front of the entrance to Diagon Alley from the Leaky Cauldron.

—

Aesop was at the Leaky Cauldron, his young companion talking excitedly beside him. She was telling him about her journey to Australia in great detail, and Aesop did his best to listen, as he was genuinely interested to hear what life was like for the wizards and witches down under.

However, he found his attention wavering as his eyes fell upon her lips. Pink and soft and inviting. Would they taste as sweet as her voice sounded? Would they yield to him and accept his tongue between them? Would they release tiny gasps and sighs into his mouth? A leg bumped into his own below the table, a touch that could be explained as accidental, yet Aesop felt a shiver rolling down his spine.

He didn’t even notice his own hand leaving his tumbler and going down, moving until he clearly felt some sort of soft, expensive fabric beneath his fingertips. “Professor?” the girl asked innocently, and it just occurred to Aesop that she hadn’t spoken for some time now. “I-...” he hurriedly took his hand away and looked into her brilliant eyes, “I-I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”

To his shock, the young woman smiled at him shyly, before grabbing his hand which had returned to his glass in the meantime. “It’s alright, sir… I don’t mind.”

She not only placed his hand back on her knee, she squeezed it as well. Aesop was in awe of how the situation changed. The pub was dark and quiet around them, and his face was so much closer to her own than it was minutes ago. “Miss (L/N),” he breathed, before both of his hands took a hold of her cheeks, and he finally succumbed to the undeniable allure, his sense and sanity slipping away from him.

He didn’t think, he just took. He claimed her mouth, drank from her lips deeply and was delighted to find them pliant and welcoming. She tasted sweet, like the wine she’d been drinking, and he felt himself falling deeper and deeper into the pit of madness, all from their passionate kiss.

Aesop had no idea just how or when they got into a room that looked suspiciously a lot like his own bedchamber, or when they both disrobed and stood nearly bare in front of each other. He could feel the softness of her bosom as it pressed against his own chest, as well as his own stiffness rubbing into her stomach.

He saw his own hands, strong and so large compared to her own, seizing the fabric of her chemise, right in the middle of her chest, before ripping it open. It made a very satisfying sound. Once he released the ruined garment, it fell right down her body, licking over her curves like a wave, and Aesop found his hands following the movement, stroking her shoulders, her arms, travelling then to her ribs, waist, her hips.

His fingers dug into her love handles as he effortlessly moved with her towards the bed in the room. It was surreal, Aesop thought, it was as if the bed was the only important item in the room apart from the two of them. Everything else was somewhere in the background, blurry and dull and absolutely unnecessary. After he’s made her lie down, after he’s spread her for him, everything else just disappeared.

At that moment, it was just her, her and her young, divine body, her red cheeks and hooded eyes, her legs opened wide to accommodate his hips, her perfect soft breasts pouring gently to her sides with gravity.

His fingers found her opening, hot, wet and quivering against his digits as he pushed them inside. Unbelievably welcoming. Aesop felt himself throb nearly painfully at the pleasurable promise, and he hurriedly pushed his pants down, freeing the strained erection. His slightly uneven teeth found one nipple and pinched it expertly as he lined up with her hungry entrance, making a shuddered sound leave those sweet lips of hers.

With a single fluid motion, he buried himself within her soft depths, her loud gasp echoing through the room, which became nothing but a dark void of space, enveloping the two of them upon the bed like a comforting blanket, shrouding them in their intimacy, in their passion. She was so tight and warm, and Aesop groaned at the feeling of her velvety walls squeezing around him, coaxing him deeper, begging him to move. So he did, pulling out of her before plunging back in, making them both grunt at the explosion of sensations.

He sat up on his knees without separating their bodies, grabbing her hips quite roughly to impale her on his length again and again, watching where their bodies became one, where her soft, pink folds were taking him so well. He felt nearly ready to burst, the sight, the sounds she made ushering him to his brink faster than ever before, when…

Aesop woke up with a moan, surprised to find himself somewhere else entirely. He peered through the darkness of the room, soon identifying it as his bedroom at the faculty tower, his suitcases still unpacked and lying next to the heavy wooden wardrobe. His cock throbbed in his vice grip, aching with arousal, and Aesop let go of it in horror.

Merlin’s saggy left bollock!

This cannot be happening.

He was forty four years old, no hormonal teenager who wakes up with sticky bed sheets! There was the occasional morning arousal, yes, but nothing a little bit of willpower wouldn't fix, but now? Now he still felt like he was thrifty seconds from emptying himself into his sleeping trousers, despite not touching himself anymore. And the dream… Sweet Salazar…

He had a big problem on his hands. He masterfully ignored the gentle touches and tenderness between himself and the young Ravenclaw in his previous dreams, chalking them up to a close platonic fondness he felt for the girl. He even ignored the kisses he laid upon her sweet dreams, but now… Now it was impossible to lie to himself. What he felt for her was anything but platonic. His body ached for her, her touch, his prick still standing eagerly below the covers, begging for his attention.

He wouldn’t give it. It wasn’t right. She was still his student and he doubted she saw him as anything else than her teacher, an authority figure. He promised to himself to be there for her, to make sure she’s happy, not lust after her.

Aesop tried his best to will his erection down, but it just wouldn’t budge. It felt nearly painful at this point, hurting more than his leg currently, and he waged an inner battle with himself, stuck between desperately wanting his relief and apprehension towards stroking himself to completion to his mental image of the young woman.

With a heavy sigh, he got up and wrapped his dressing gown around himself. It’s been several minutes, and he was in the same state he woke up in. He made sure to tie the dressing gown loosely, so as not to draw attention to the sizable bulge in front in the unlikely case he would meet someone on his way to the Prefects’ bathroom. Cold shower it was. How he hated them, they always made the pain in his leg sear up. But there was no other choice.

Damn that woman. She walked into his life, into his dreams, and it seemed she wasn't planning on leaving. She made him wake up with heated cheeks, and the ghost of her warmth against his body, and now also with the hot cloak of arousal clinging to him, unwilling to let him go from its sweet embrace. Aesop was lusting. He could no longer remember when was the last time he longed this much, was it years? A decade? Oh, Merlin…

He was in trouble.

—

“I would’ve thought you’d be quite exhausted after your classes today, so don't blame me for being baffled that you're still in the mood for an evening visit,” Aesop said, leaning against the doorframe of his chambers, fixing the Ravenclaw with a questioning look. She did look a little tired, but it didn’t dampen her genuine smile. “Actually,” she replied, “Since I didn’t sign up for NEWT level History of Magic and Divination, I don’t have classes until tomorrow afternoon, so I’ll be able to sleep in for a bit.”

The girl fidgeted with the small canvas bag she was holding, and Aesop thought he saw her blush a little too, although he couldn't be certain.

“But, um… I can come some other time, sir, if you’re too tired.”

The potions master wasn’t exactly tired. In fact, his entire body was buzzing with nervous energy. And it was the dream he had the previous night he had to blame.

It was another of the lecherous ones, heady, lust filled dreams that left marks not only on his mind and heart, but most especially on his body. Since the first time he woke up with a raging erection following such a dream, there were a few times he was able to calm both his body and his mind down, and there were times he had to begrudgingly go and take a cold shower in order to school his treacherous length into obedience.

This one, though, this one was different.

Aesop didn’t recognise it as a dream. He was taking a dip in the Prefects’ bathroom tub, the warmth doing wonders for him. A blissed sigh left his mouth every few minutes as he let the hot water from one of the taps cascade down his neck, his shoulders and back, several strands of his hair sticking wetly to his face and forehead. He has long since thoroughly washed both his hair and body, and was now simply relaxing.

He was always fond of water and enjoyed swimming often during the summer - until his leg turned what used to be a pleasant experience into one that was uncomfortable at best, and straight up painful at worst.

Warmth made the pain lessen somewhat, and so he didn’t hurt quite so bad in the pool-like tub’s hot water. Combined with a Wiggenweld potion beforehand, he was able to actually swim a few laps once every now and then, usually in the dead of night, when there was no chance some prefect or a colleague would want to use the bathroom as well.

And yet, Aesop flinched visibly, because a splash that wasn’t his own suddenly reverberated through the room. He tried to reach into his dressing gown for his wand, but quickly realised he wasn’t wearing his dressing gown. It was laid over the small cabinet at the very back of the room, his wand inside the pocket. When he was an Auror, he would’ve never let his guard down like this. However, he was a teacher now, working and living in what was to be one of the safest places in the country, so he felt like he could part from his wand for the one hour or so he was going to bathe.

And yet, here he was, wet, naked and vulnerable, his eyes searching for the source of the splash. They widened when a head suddenly emerged not seven feet away from him.

“Miss (L/N)!” he spoke loudly once he recognised the Ravenclaw in all of her wet glory, “Would you kindly explain just what do you think you’re doing here? Firstly, it is very much after curfew, secondly, I know I locked the door after I entered, and thirdly, you have no business being here at all!”

Aesop felt hotness spreading over his cheeks as the young woman swam closer to him. Bubbles were lapping at her bare shoulders and collarbone. She was apparently as nude as he, and he struggled to keep his gaze from trying to penetrate the water and foam in search of her body. The Ravenclaw only smiled at him and swam even closer, stopping less than two feet away.

He tried to back away, but she always followed, keeping the distance. His back made contact with the wall of the pool, and Aesop shortly considered climbing out, before he realised his state of undress once more, not to mention his starting arousal. “M-Miss (L/N)... (F/N),” he pleaded. What for, he didn’t know. The girl outstretched her arms and cornered him, hands grabbing onto the edge of the tub on each side of him. He was trapped.

Now, if he wanted, the former Auror could’ve very easily pushed the eighteen year old away. And yet, even as he felt her lower belly press softly against his now rock hard length, he stayed put exactly where he was, stuck between desire and restraint, with no idea what to do with his hands.

He shivered when he saw her kittenish grin, his heart pounding as she bent her head and licked a long stripe from his collarbone all the way up to his ear.

Next thing he knew, Aesop was sitting on the edge of the tub, pulling her out of the water and on top of him.

The tiled floor felt cold against his heated back, and the drag of his head on it felt quite uncomfortable, but the potions master couldn’t be bothered, not when he had (F/N) (L/N) bouncing up and down on his cock, her fingers digging into the furred skin on his chest and her breasts moving most enticingly in time with her hips. He bent his legs and braced his feet on the ground, soon meeting her thrusts with his own. He was grunting as he invaded the young body above him in a steady rhythm, the tips of his fingers sure to leave bruises on the flesh of her hips. Marked as his own.

Her pretty face all screwed up in pleasure drove him on. Aesop grabbed her hips even harder, keeping her in place while he pushed himself incredibly deep inside her, and began grinding his hips, angling her so that her swollen clit rubbed against his pubic hair with every move.

It soon became too much, her walls squeezing him, her tits jiggling with their movements, her moans and whimpers growing louder and mixing with the obscene slapping sounds of their intimate union. And then, when her back arched and a choked gasp cut through the thick, heady air like a bolt shot from a crossbow, Aesop knew he was done for.

The muscles in his stomach tensed as he felt the red-hot coil in his core thrum and burn brighter before snapping in an explosion of most primal carnal pleasure. The potions master groaned loudly, his hips shuddering as he pumped the young Ravenclaw full of his cum.

He closed his eyes, breathing heavily, his orgasm making all of his nerve endings sizzle like electricity.

“Hmm, professor…” the girl sighed, her voice dripping with gratification.

“D-don’t… don’t call me that. Not n-now.”

There was no answer, and when Aesop opened his eyes, he realised why. He wasn’t in the prefects’ bathroom, he wasn’t lying naked on the hard tiled floor, and his pretty little Ravenclaw (who actually wasn’t his at all) was most likely calmly sleeping up in her dorm room, blissfully unaware of her professor’s depravity.

He groaned once more when he realised what state he was in.

His hand was down his pants, wet and sticky with his release, as was his entire front. He cringed when he pulled his hand away and the damp fabric of his underwear clung to his spent shaft. He reached towards the chair next to his bed with his clean hand until he felt the wood of his wand under his fingertips. His movement wasn’t as elegant as it would’ve been if he was using his right hand, but he still managed to perform the cleaning charm, vanishing the evidence of his pleasure from both his person and his clothes.

He lay back into his bed heavily, releasing a long sigh. Bloody hell… This was getting ridiculous… His body behaved like it was fifteen (only at night, though, his back felt like he was sixty when he woke up in the morning), his unconscious brain was obsessed with the eighteen year old Ravenclaw, and now, whenever he went to the Prefects’ bathroom, he’d see in his mind’s eye the image of (F/N) riding him in wild abandon. Which will of course be plenty useful, when he goes there to cool himself off from another dream…

Merlin… What would she think of him if she knew the extent of his emotions towards her? What would she think if she saw his longing, his lust? His… absolute pining… The professor closed his eyes with another sigh. Small traces of the dream’s gratification were still floating about in the cool air of his chambers, lulling his mind back into the depths of slumber. And as its arms began to wrap around him, Aesop could’ve sworn they were the arms of the beautiful student, enclosing him in her loving embrace.

—

It was no wonder Aesop was hesitant to accept her into his chambers that evening. It was different when they were in his office; there he was the professor still, at least a part of him was. The door was always open, there were students going in and out of his classroom to work on their potions.

Here, in his private rooms, though? Here the pretence of being merely a teacher and a student was dropped. Here, they were… friends. Here, in the still and quiet, they were just two people who found an understanding for one another’s situation.. The only thing that reminded them of their titles was just that - their titles. Aesop’s tongue slipped every now and then and he called the young woman by her first name, but otherwise they addressed each other as ‘Miss (L/N)’ and ‘Professor Sharp’ or ‘Sir’.

There were countless times Aesop wanted to offer her the first name basis when it was just the two of them, but then he always forgot to bring it up. And then later, when his heart started aching for her, when his dreams tipped from plain affection and comfort into an inferno of pining, of love and lust… he decided it was for the best that she only addressed him as she always did. He didn’t think he could handle knowing how his first name sounded from her lips. And he was certain his treacherous resting brain would take to torturing him even more than it has before… No, best to stay as professional as he could. Keep their meetings to his office, keep their tones light, keep their last names…

And yet, as she stood outside his door, the tiniest flick of sadness in her eyes at the prospect of being refused by him, Aesop found that he physically couldn’t. The very idea of telling her to go back to her common room and only seek him out in his office made his stomach close up.

Aesop wanted her right here. He wanted to sit down with her and have a cup of tea, discuss how her NEWT classes were treating her, and which students were the bane of his existence this year. He wanted to say some dry ironic retort, because he knew they made her grin, and he wanted her smile to shift into that of excitement and happiness as she talked about all of her wonderful beasts in the Room of Requirement.

All of this and so much more was what made him open the door wider, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a smile that was only for her.

“I suppose I can spare a few moments. I just hope you’ve got something good in that bag.”

“Cauldron cakes and Butterbeers, sir.”

“Well in that case, come on in!”

—-

It was a cold night, and salty air was blowing into Aesop’s face, biting at his smooth cheeks. His eyes scanned the dark harbour until they fell upon the ship he was looking for; St Joan. He swallowed heavily - their culprit was all on his own, yet the Auror still felt adrenaline begin to pump through his bloodstream. They’ve been chasing him for weeks, and it was now or never.

“Lead the way, Ace,” Ashley said next to him, her wand drawn.

Aesop drew his own wand and the pair began walking towards the ship.

And then all hell broke loose.

A downpour began, people were shouting, curses were flying through the air and the two Aurors did their best to dodge and deflect them. They were back to back, perfectly synchronised in their movements, they covered each other. Ashley used Accio on a pair of wizards to her left, bringing them into Aesop’s field of view just in time for him to send a well aimed Diffindo their way, the spell hitting their chests and throwing them to the ground head first, promptly rendering the bleeding men unconscious.

For a while, Aesop was sure that they would emerge victorious from this heated battle, the adversaries were dropping to the ground left and right and they weren’t getting back up. In his sureness that the situation was under control, he left Ashley’s side, intent on capturing their big fish before he could slither away once more. Only, as he triumphantly glared at the middle aged Irishman, he noticed the smuggler boss looking back at him in a smug and completely unafraid manner.

“Aesop!” Ashley screamed, panic evident in her deep voice. He turned around and paled. Where he previously left his partner battling no more than three criminals, now stood more than a dozen men and women in dark clothes, and all of them had their wands drawn at Ashley, preparing to cast their curses at the woman, and Aesop heard more popping sounds, announcing the arrival of even more. With one last look at Aengus fucking O'Brien, who was in the middle of disapparating back to safety, he began to run towards his partner.

They failed. Not only did they not manage to capture the bloody bastard, their what was supposed to be an easy job just turned into a literal fight for their lives.

He and Ashely did their best to defend themselves, but despite their skill, they were just too severely outnumbered. Aesop felt a sick feeling in his chest - they might not ever leave here alive.

He saw one of the meaner looking wizards to his left ready his wand, a strange dark smoke like magic swirling at its tip as he prepared to cast on the Auror. Green jets of light began to fly around them.

At that moment, Aesop just knew. He knew that Ashley wouldn't survive the night. He knew he’d forever be crippled once the curse found its target on his body. He knew, because this already happened, and he witnessed it happen dozens upon dozens of times. And he was to witness it once more.

“Professor!”

Aesop flinched. That voice… He looked for its source and saw her, standing some fifty feet away from him. His heart dropped.

No… No, no, no, she cannot be here. If she stays here, they’re going to hit her, she’s going to die! Please no. I can’t lose her too!

Aesop wanted to run towards the young Ravenclaw, he wanted to use his own body to protect her from whatever curse the bastards would cast on her, but his legs didn’t move a single inch.The Auror was rooted to the spot. He didn’t care that it made no sense for her to be here, nor the fact she seemed to deflect the golden snitch sized raindrops that were steadily falling from the sky, that wasn’t important. What was important was that she had to leave before she got hurt, before she got killed. And yet his legs still felt like lead and he couldn’t move, and he couldn’t even scream - Oh Merlin! No!

In a blink of an eye, she stood in front of him, her face a mask of peace and serenity, even as chaos of the battle still raged behind her, as screams and explosions pierced the air around them. None of the spells fired at Aesop found their mark, it was like he wasn’t even there, like he was naught but thin air.

The young woman raised her right hand, her soft digits tracing over his scar with utmost gentleness. Wait a minute… Aesop wasn’t hit yet, how did he have a scar?

“Professor Sharp?” She spoke again, and, with another blink of his eyes, he was no longer getting drenched by the rain in a harbour in Scarborough, he wasn’t being fired hexes and curses at, and his partner wasn’t fighting for her life to his left. The cacophony of battle was replaced by the gentle crackling of fire, the sound of his own wildly beating heart the loudest sound in the room. His room. In Hogwarts… He wasn’t an Auror anymore, he taught potions.

His thoughts, confused and scattered, were interrupted by another gentle touch to his scarred cheek. He took a deep breath and looked around - he was in his room, sitting on an unfamiliar sofa in front of the hearth, the fire being the brightest light source in the otherwise dim room. The young Ravenclaw was sitting next to him, looking at him with a concerned expression. The flames were dancing upon the pristine skin of her tender face, their glow reflected in her brilliant eyes. Aesop felt his heartbeat slow and even out at the sight of her - safe and sound, right next to him. “Are you alright, sir?” she asked once more, her hand warm over his scar, unwavering in its gentleness, even as a tear rolling out of his eye dampened it.

“Yes… Yes, it’s alright, (F/N).”

She scooched closer to him and leaned her head on his shoulder, her body against his side warmer than the flames in front of him. He lost Ashley years ago, he didn’t know how he’d fare if he lost the girl next to him too. He wouldn’t be able to go on. Aesop allowed himself to rest his own head against hers and close his eyes, breathing in deeply.

Aesop slept until morning.

—

It was early afternoon when he decided to sketch for a while - it’s been some time since he’s last held a charcoal in his hand, but today he felt like he genuinely needed it. His leg was feeling up to the task that day, and so the potions master climbed all the way into his little atelier, hobbling towards the drawing desk and plopping down onto the chair in front of it. He gripped the charcoal and expertly dragged it over the parchment in front of him, letting his thoughts wander freely as he drew.

While the Hogwarts owlery began to slowly but surely materialise out of his strokes, he thought of his dream the previous night. It began like it always did, with him having no idea he was dreaming, no idea he was going to watch the worst moment of his life unfold all over again. Except tonight… Tonight he was spared. He was spared the panic and the pain, both physical and emotional, as the young woman entered his dream and saved him from it, with a handful of words and a single touch.

He was grateful, of course, though he didn’t know to what exactly. To (F/N) who was probably spending the Saturday afternoon with her friends, blissfully unaware of Aesop’s night terrors? To his own mind, who finally managed to find a way to spare him? To his heart, which he felt was starting to beat for the Ravenclaw more and more? His heart…

Aesop remembered the terror he felt when he saw (F/N) in that harbour, fear so horrible it still sent a shiver down his spine even now. The possibility of losing her made his chest feel tight, his lungs not getting enough oxygen, his heart not having enough space to beat. Her presence in his life was not only wanted, it was needed.

Aesop dragged a clear piece of parchment in front of himself to suppress the pang that rolled through him then.

She was in her seventh year. In nine months, she’s going to board the Hogwarts Express and leave, and Aesop very much doubted she’d start coming over on a weekly basis to come see him… And even if she did come to see him occasionally, she’d soon meet new people in her adult life, people who’d be close to her, both in distance and in age. He was going to lose her.

Aesop folded his coal stained hands in his lap, rubbing them together slowly as he observed his portrait of (F/N) (L/N), looking at him from the parchment, her eyes smouldering and scorching him.

—

He was reclining on the leather sofa in his room, reading something but not actually making anything out. The ‘words’ swam in front of his eyes, the scrawls and scribbles absolutely unresembling any language Aesop knew. That’s how he realised he was dreaming again. He wasn’t sure which was better, thinking that what he was experiencing was the reality, or knowing his slumbering mind was forming mental images for him to witness while his body regained its strength. Torturing him and taunting him with what he could never have. He closed the book, its cover and weight reminding him of his copy of A Study in Scarlet, and placed it next to him on the sofa.

He could hear the door to his chambers open, as he expected it would, and soon quiet footsteps reached his ears too. There she was again. Soon she stood right in front of him, in her casual uniform, though her tie or the Ravenclaw crest that usually adorned her pristine white shirt were nowhere to be found. In fact, if one didn’t know she was a Hogwarts student, they could easily think her simply a young woman in a shirt and a skirt, her sleeves rolled up to her elbows in a laid back manner. For some reason, it comforted Aesop.

As if sensing his thoughts, she clicked her tongue and looked at him as if he just told her the silliest thing in the world. She shook her head then and stepped closer to him. Aesop’s heart was racing, and he was caught between wanting to bolt, to hobble away as fast as he could to the nearest Floo flame, and wanting to grab onto any part of her that was closest, any part he could reach, and pull her closer, pull her atop him and hold her and not let go. He could - he was dreaming after all. However, he stayed put, not moving a single muscle.

The sofa dipped beside him as she sat down, immediately curling into him and resting her head on his lap, facing him. Aesop watched with hooded eyes as she made herself comfortable, sighing as she settled. He heard that sound often, whenever she took a first sip of her tea, a mix of good quality tea leaves with dried cornflowers he learned she loved, and made sure to always have it on hand. Her eyes caught his own, the look inside them making his poor heart skip a beat, before resuming its hurried pace.

Such was the power of that simple look. It was filled with warmth, with fondness, and there was a smile on her face, a happy and content one. He wished he could see that look every single day, even if it wasn’t caused by or directed at him. In his dream, though, the smile was for him, and only him, and Aesop bent in the waist, leaning over her and resting his head on his hand, his elbow placed next to her head.

His heart throbbed. It ached. He knew he was dreaming, but everything felt so real. The flowery scent of her perfume, the warmth of her breath fanning against his cheeks, her soft palms coming to stroke his face and wipe at the tear that rolled out of his eye. His mind truly was intent on torturing him, he thought as he succumbed to the allure, as he decided to use the chance to hold her when he had it, dream or not.

He gathered the young woman into his arms, pulling her higher until her face was pressed into the side of his neck and he could bury his nose into her hair, inhaling deeply the scent he only ever caught a whiff of from time to time when he moved behind her in his class. After a few minutes during which he only snuggled her close, nosing at her hair, her ear, her cheekbones, he pulled her back to look into her eyes.

Her smile was honest, genuine, yet incredibly enigmatic. Like a Mona Lisa in the flesh. She wasn’t actually there, and none of this was real…

“Oh, sweet Merlin, (F/N).”

He said only as he chased her soft lips in a kiss. It wasn’t real, but it was as good as he was going to get.

—

When Aesop found himself in bed with the young Ravenclaw, he knew it was a dream. He would’ve remembered every single tiny little detail of how he got there, he just knew he would.

Therefore, when he saw her right there, he didn’t waste any time asking pointless questions. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her securely and even threw his leg over her own, effectively trapping her in his embrace. He could make out her face in the dimness of the room, saw her eyes glisten ever so slightly, saw her lips stretch in a smile, her face inches away from his own. She felt so real, Aesop felt her warmth, her softness, her breath against his cheek and nose, he could smell her perfume and the rose scented soap she used.

He couldn’t stop the corners of his own mouth from turning up, as his right hand came to push a stray strand of her hair behind her ear, his calloused finger trailing against the silky smooth apple of her cheek.

“What am I going to do when you’re not here anymore?” he asked softly, more to himself than anything else. And yet, the girl in his arms tilted her head somewhat at the question. “When I’m not here anymore?” she smiled again, “Sir, it’s not like I’m about to disappear off the face of the planet… I’m just graduating later this year.” Despite the storm of emotions inside his heart, Aesop chuckled: “Not off the face of the planet, no, but… I can’t delude myself into thinking that you’ll still be a part of my life after you leave… That I’ll be a part of yours. And even if I was… it wouldn’t be in the way I long for..”

Her hand came to stroke at his cheek again, the gesture now so familiar. Only in his dreams, sadly. The potions master leaned into it, his eyes closing on their own accord at the tender touch.

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

Aesop released a long sigh, his arms closing around his dreamy bedmate as if he wanted to will her into reality.

“I want you in my life more than I’ve ever wanted anything before… If I’m being perfectly honest, if I had… If I had to choose between you and the cure for my leg, I’d hobble my way to you without looking back, but… That would be incredibly selfish of me. You deserve so much more. So much better… Even in the unlikely scenario that you’d ever love me back.”

Aesop finished with an unhappy chuckle, his chest feeling tight and heavy with emotion. Her fingers were combing through his hair, the intimate touch bringing a sense of peace to his throbbing heart. She pulled at it lightly, enough to make him raise his head, but not enough to hurt, and once his gaze connected with hers once more, she closed the distance between them, searching for his mouth in the still and quiet.

And as she pulled him atop her, their lips melding together, Aesop knew he would never be the same.

He woke up in a tangle of sheets and blankets.

—

The day was frankly horrible, and the worst part of it was ironically the best one as well. The whole ‘love letters fiasco’ left him drained physically and emotionally, and as he tried to breathe through another painful cramp of his fucking leg, he cursed himself for having been so foolish.

It was over. Done. Finished.

(F/N) would read Sebastian Sallow's letter and she’d return his feelings, because she was obviously fond of the boy. Because he was an obvious choice from day one, the most logical one. She’ll be with the young Slytherin and she’ll be happy, and while her being happy was exactly what Aesop wanted, he felt his stomach lurching at the thought of them together. A pang of guilt and shame soon followed, and the potions master felt his leg beginning to cramp up once more.

It was a hellish pain, much, much worse than what he usually had to suffer through, worse than what he experienced after he woke up from his night terrors.

Aesop tried to breathe through it, his brows furrowed and eyes screwed shut, droplets of sweat forming at his hairline. He gripped the armrests of his seat so hard, his knuckles had gone white, and when a knock came on his door, it took him several seconds to even school his teeth into unclenching so that he could answer. He knew who it was, how could he bloody not.

His voice was unsteady when he called out: “G-go away!”

Of course, she didn’t. She opened the door to his chambers (how come it was unlocked?) and came straight in.

“Miss (L/N), if our friendship means anything to you, you’ll get the hell out of my rooms and forget you ever saw me like this!” he cried out, curling in on himself as a particularly strong wave of pain rolled through him, forcing tears into his eyes. He blinked quickly, trying to stop them from spilling over. The young woman came closer, kneeled before him. Aesop would’ve inquired as to what she thought she was doing, if he wasn’t in the middle of choking back a whimper.

There was sudden warmth against his leg and Aesop looked up to see what was going on. She held her wand to his left lower thigh, above his knee, obviously having applied a heating charm to the fabric. Her hands, so much smaller than his own, began massaging the poor limb tentatively, and several minutes later, Aesop actually felt the pain lessening. The relief made his tears finally roll over his eyelids and fall down his cheeks.

She carried on with her slow deliberate movements for a while before standing up again and taking a hold of his face. The touch was so familiar from his dreams, yet so foreign in reality. Aesop opened his tears filled eyes and looked up at the young woman. He no doubt looked absolutely miserable, he didn’t want to see the pity and repulsion with him within her eyes.

Except there was none.

When the professor looked into (F/N) (L/N)’s eyes, all he saw was worry. Care. Love. Her own tears were glistening just past her eyelids as she used her fingers to wipe away his. He gasped quietly when she brought his head to rest against her chest, his nose against her collarbone. She made gentle shushing noises, her fingers stroking his hair, her body moving in a slow rocking motion. What she said next had him wrapping his arms around her, his tears starting anew.

“Did you really think I’d just leave you alone with this? After everything? You’re such a clever man, sir, but sometimes you have the silliest thoughts.”

He quietly sobbed into the fabric of her pristine white shirt, his tears seeping into the soft material. Aesop felt her pressing kisses into his hair as she let him weep, her own chest shuddering with every exhale as she held him close to her, as if she wanted to give him her own strength.

It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Aesop didn’t know. He didn’t care. Even after his tears went dry, even after the girl stopped trembling, they stayed in their embrace, hearts bared, souls reaching out to tangle with each other. Aesop didn’t want her to leave, he didn’t want her to stop holding him, didn’t want her to stop kissing the crown of his head. However, they both knew that sleep was something they both desperately needed now.

“It’s very late, sir,” (F/N) said, her voice no more than a whisper, one that fanned through his hair, and caressed his haunted soul. Her gentle hands grabbed his face again and he was made to look at her once more. Aesop wanted to tell her right then and there, he wanted to tell her that she held his heart in her hands the same way she held his cheek, but not a single sound left his lips as their gazes met. “Come,” she said as she helped him to his feet.

Aesop didn’t know how she did it, but she managed to get him to his bedroom, and sit him on his bed, while making sure he put almost no weight on his bad leg. It would seem she found just as much comfort in touching his face as he, because she was holding it yet again. Or maybe she was just making sure she had his attention.

“Are you going to be alright? Should I fetch you anything?”

Aesop cleared his throat. It was sore from crying, and his voice was hoarse when he spoke: “The chest - at the foot of the bed…”

The young woman opened it and took out two vials of Wiggenweld potion, as well as a bottle of the light lavender concoction he introduced to her in her fifth year. Dreamless Sleep. She placed all potions next to him upon the bed and gave him a long look.

“I will be alright. I promise,” Aesop said sincerely after he gulped down the Wiggenwelds. The girl stared at him for a minute longer before nodding her head: “Alright…”

She then did something that took his breath away all over again.

She leaned down and placed her lips on his forehead, right above his eyebrows. It was an action so daring and yet so innocent, it stunned Aesop into absolute silence, and he even forgot to breathe for a few seconds. He wanted to ask her to stay, he wanted to hold her like he held her in his dreams. Instead, he squeezed her hand momentarily, enjoying its softness and warmth, before letting go of her. Before letting her go.

“Sleep well, (F/N).”

—

Her dream form stood right next to him, her hair blowing in the gentle breeze, eyes sparkling in the brilliant sunlight. She looked different, so very different than he usually saw her. She was dressed in a lightweight white gown, the look on her face ethereal.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked with a little grin.

“Because you are beautiful.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” she teased then, and Aesop looked down to see he wasn’t wearing his usual ensemble. He was garbed in his best dress robes, with cufflinks that used to be his father’s. He looked at the young woman confusedly, trying to make sense of the situation.

“Are you… are you getting married?” he asked, his heart pounding in his chest.

“We are. Come on, everyone’s waiting for us!”

Aesop never had a dream about marrying anyone, not even those nearly two decades ago when he was certain he was going to marry Dinah one day.

Now however, he knew he was going to treasure this particular dream till his dying breath. No matter what happens, at least he got to have this dream, and that is something nobody will take away from him.

—

As the days got shorter and nights became longer with the upcoming winter, Aesop Sharp became rather… desperate.The first snowflakes descended upon the castle’s roofs and grounds, covering the piles of fallen brown leaves with a fine dusting of snow, reminding Aesop of a Christmas pudding dusted with powdered sugar. The cold that accompanied the coming season did absolutely nothing for his leg, and he found himself applying a heating charm to his trousers with increasing frequency in an attempt to keep his leg warm. If he could avoid going outside, he did.

The weather however, was not the cause of his desperation. It was the rate in which the young Ravenclaw appeared in his dreams, torturing him with her sweet smiles and sweeter kisses, mocking him with her tender touches and teasing him with her loud beating heart. In his dreams, it sounded as if it was beating for him.

She, of course, did not actually mock him, no, but it felt like mockery every time Aesop awoke alone in his bedchamber, all alone, cold and longing. She was not at fault, though, his own, self-destructive brain was the real culprit. It was as if his nightmares weren’t traumatic enough, weren’t taking enough out of him, resulting in grief over things he lost. So, instead, they became dreams of something he would never have, stabbing into his heart with every kiss the young woman bestowed upon his willing mouth, every long intense look she gave him, every passionate moan she released, every delicious touch. Nearly every. Single. Night.

Every time she then actually came to meet him, Aesop thought about telling her that they can’t see each other anymore, that she cannot keep coming back into his chambers. He thought about how he’d reason his words, other than the truth.

Because he couldn’t exactly say: ‘Miss (L/N), we have to stop being friends, because every time you and I are alone, I feel like I am exactly ten seconds away from dragging you out of that armchair and into my own lap in order to push my mouth against your own with such intensity, you’ll be seeing stars by the time I’m done,’ could he?

And then he opened the door and she stood there, smiling up at him like she was looking forward to this moment the entire day, and Aesop’s heart leaped up into his throat and skipped a beat. He found himself smiling back and opening the door for her. He knew he could never ask her to keep her distance. He was getting high on her very presence, and was now desperately addicted to it. And the most insane thing - he always managed to control himself. He was a good conversational partner, and a good host in his chambers, preparing her tea less than twenty seconds after she entered, just as she carefully portioned out the house elves baked goods she brought for them to share this time.

Whenever she was around, he found himself breathing a bit easier, smiling slightly more, he even joked around every now and then, delighting in every wonderful little laughter she rewarded him with, feeling like a healing balm to his weary soul. And the touching… Goodness, the small touches they shared, the way she not only allowed him to hold her hand sometimes, but turned it in his grasp so that she could hold him back, the way her delicate fingers fit against his own calloused ones, the way her thumb stroked tenderly over the back of his hand.

It was an exquisite kind of torture, and Aesop no longer knew whether he wanted it to finally stop, or whether he craved more. She was unknowingly destroying him, and Aesop, like the mad old man he was, was loving it.

“So… do tell, where are you headed for the holidays this year,” he asked one such evening, her small hand in his own, the flames in his fireplace licking up their skin, making him even warmer than he already felt just from her presence.

“Nowhere, sir,” she replied quietly, not wanting to spoil the nearly intimate atmosphere they had at that moment, “We used to go to the mountains for Christmas, me and my parents, but well… not anymore. It’s a shame, really - even they used to be quite happy whenever we went to this nice hotel in Switzerland, near the Giessbach falls. They even allowed me to learn to ski. However, my mother slipped on some ice there some years ago, and hurt her leg. So… we don’t go there anymore. And seeing as all of my friends already have their own programme, well, I decide to just stay here. With all the work for my NEWTs this year, I’m sure I won’t be bored at all.”

Aesop listened to every word she spoke with interest, resting his head on his free hand, all the while caressing her own with the other one. “I too will be spending the holidays here. So, you know… if you ever feel like taking a break from your studies… you are always welcome here.” His heart was thumping with anxiety as he awaited her answer with a bated breath.

“Thank you, sir, that sounds lovely. Although… I may bring my work with me,” she said finally with a soft smile playing on her face, one Aesop once more found himself unable to not reciprocate: “That’s completely alright with me, (F/N). I too have some work I will be biting through during the holidays, so we might as well offer each other the comfort of company while we focus on our responsibilities.” The potions master felt like he was playing with fire, and was honestly surprised it didn’t come to bite him just yet. Even now, his answer was a toothy smile and a squeeze of her hand.

“Sounds like a good Christmas to me.”

—

(F/N) was making such lovely sounds where she was lying underneath him, spread upon the crimson duvet of his bed. With every move of his hips, he drove himself deeper into her young body, his hip bones grinding against her own both deliciously and nearly painfully. Aesop held onto her side with one hand, keeping her in place so he could deliver a hard thrust after thrust, while his other hand was pawing at her left breast, squeezing and massaging the plush flesh in his hand, stroking his fingers over the hardened nub. His mouth was at the other tit, licking and suckling, intent on bringing the young woman as much pleasure as he possibly could.

He then sucked a visible mark to the skin just above the now swollen and raw red nipple, leaving an imprint of his uneven teeth behind. The potions master observed his work proudly, drinking up the Ravenclaw’s heady expression, the way her beautiful eyes disappeared behind her eyelids, rolling into the back of her head as he fucked her into his mattress, his cock stretching her open, bringing her closer and closer to that sweet abyss of primal pleasure.

He felt her hand in his hair, pulling, tugging harshly, and released a low moan of his own, the sensations driving him wild, making him increase his pace. He felt her skin glide against his own, their bodies damp with sweat from their efforts, Aesop felt it coldly clinging to his chest hair, saw it glisten upon her once pristine skin, now bearing his marks, his claim. Bruises from where his fingers squeezed her hips and imprints of his teeth. She looked ruined, mad with lust and pleasure, flushed with unfocused eyes.

“So bloody beautiful,” he groaned, releasing her abused breast to grab her face, forcing her to look at him. “So lovely, my darling (F/N). So fucking perfect for me, taking me so well,” he lowered himself to press a filthy, open-mouthed kiss onto her pliant lips. “Hmm… My sweet, my precious…”

The girl’s moaning got louder, and she started to shudder against him, her legs trapping him between them as she started to grind her hips in time with him, her walls beginning to squeeze his weeping prick, prompting him to groan once more.

And then, just as he saw her finally reach her peak, roll over that edge of ecstasy, she looked right into his eyes, her own so heavily dilated and unfocused, he was half certain she could barely see him, tears of pleasure sparkling just behind her eyelids: “I-I love you, sir.”

Aesop woke up with a start.

He was in his bed, aroused beyond belief, throbbing hard and feeling precome ooze out of his glans. He groaned when another throb to his cock made the material of his pants rub against the poor shaft. He was too far gone by now. The potions master threw the covers away from his feverish body, wiggled out of his pants and quickly grabbed at his cock, tugging at it harshly, playing the words out in his head again, and again. The wet slapping of his hand moving along the hot flesh penetrated the otherwise silent room, and his groans soon joined it. He thought about the young woman, of her words, of her body, her face, imagining himself fucking her tight little cunt until she couldn’t walk the next day.

“F-fuck, fuck!”

He flipped onto his belly, still holding his cock in a vice grip, and began pistoning his hips, concentrating on his fantasy hard. In it, he wasn’t just fucking wildly into his own hand, ruining his bedsheets with precome, he was taking that young woman who came into his life like a hurricane.

‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’

It were these words that made his climax approach closer and closer, intense and world-shattering. In his wild abandon, he grabbed one of the large pillows on his bed and pushed it under his hips, gripping his cock then with both hands to increase the sensations. He bent his legs at the knees to be able to thrust into his hands with greater force, each one making him near his finish.

‘I love you.’

Aesop groaned pitifully, his saliva soaking into the pillow as his lungs burned with every ragged breath, as his muscles ached with the strange position, as his prick throbbed painfully, so fucking desperate for its release, growing even larger, even harder.

‘I love you.’

“Ah, fuck! Oh, (F/N), fuck! Hnngh!”

Aesop’s body spasmed, his toes curled, and he buried his head deeper into the pillow as he finally, finally, reached the peak of his pleasure.

His cock twitched heavily with every large spurt of spunk it shot out, soiling his hands and the pillow, even his shirt, making a fucking mess of his front, but Aesop didn’t care. His mind was entirely clouded by the divine pleasure and the picture of (F/N), by her words of love. It was an intense orgasm that left Aesop trembling slightly even a minute after the last drop of cum wept out of his softening prick.

The potions master was breathing hard, his mouth and chin wet with his own saliva that made a damp circle on the pillow. Of course, that was nothing compared to the ungodly, foul mess he left lower. Soon, the wet stickiness of his own spent made Aesop roll onto his back with a groan.

Merlin’s fucking beard.

He was completely depraved, wasn’t he?

Hell, he couldn’t remember ever wanking with such a wild abandon, even when he was the age when it could be excused, blamed on teenage hormones.

He lay there on his back, his seed drying up on both the pillow and his skin, his hands, making the potions master crinkle his nose in disgust.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned again, his voice hoarse as he finally reached for his wand to cast the cleaning spell on himself. He lay there still, his body and sheets once more clean, but the heady aroma of his own arousal still lingered in the air, the relief and muscle relaxation his orgasm brought him made him almost not feel his blasted leg at all. He wanted to curse himself, but his head felt so heavy and his mind so cloudy, he really couldn’t, not now at least.

Aesop closed his eyes.

‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’ still reverberated through his head, but this time he didn’t see the young woman underneath him, caught in the throes of passion. Instead, she was on top of him, resting upon his strong chest, her head lying on her folded arms as she gazed at him through her eyelashes, teasingly hiding her smile. He saw his hand coming to gently caress her hair, pushing it off her face. “I love you,” she’d say, quietly, yet sincerely.

“I love you,” Aesop replied into the still and quiet around him, sleep taking him once more.

—

Aesop looked around the Great Hall. It looked so very empty, with the majority of students having gone home for the holidays, and only a few remaining. The Ravenclaw table was nearly vacant, and the few students there were sitting in a single group, close to the High table, among them Mr Thakkar and, of course, (F/N) (L/N), who were currently caught in a conversation. Aesop was watching them covertly, but while the starry-eyed Amit did make the googly eyes at the young woman, he kept a respectful distance.

Good.

Aesop’s selfish side whispered, and he narrowed his eyes somewhat at the young man.

“I certainly hope one of my best Eagle’s has not done anything to upset you, Aesop,” said Dinah dryly, blowing at her tea before taking a small sip. Aesop grumbled and stabbed a mushroom onto his fork with perhaps a bit more force than necessary. That got his friend’s attention: “What is it, dear? Aren’t you looking forward to some peace and quiet after the difficult few months? I don’t remember the school being this empty for Christmas in at least five years.”

“Of course I am looking forward to it!”

“Then what’s got you staring like a basilisk at my Ravenclaws?”

“Nothing! I was lost in thought, that’s it. And my leg hurts.”

“I know your leg hurts, but you can’t always use it as an excuse, Aesop.”

“Watch me.”

Aesop dropped his eyes to his breakfast defiantly, carrying on with his attack on the food. Therefore he didn’t see his dear friend and colleague observe the young Ravenclaw who was currently talking excitedly about something with the Head Boy.

“Poor Amit,” she said after a while, “all the prefects and even the Head girl went home for the holidays. He’ll never be able to patrol the whole school by himself. Students could be sneaking out after curfew, and the possibility of him catching them is very slim.”

Aesop chose not to grace her words with an answer.

—

Aesop knew all too well that they’d be pretty much by themselves in the Faculty tower when she’d come to visit. Abraham went home to his wife, Mudiwa and her daughter were going to spend the break in their homeland, even the Magic Theory professor, Felicity Turner, who started teaching a year and a half ago, went away on a little holiday two days prior. Mirabel mostly kept to herself and her flowers, occasionally spending her days in the Three Broomsticks to be with her friend, and Nurse Blainey was just glad not be constantly bothered by students claiming to be sick with all kinds of excotic illnesses just so they could try to weasel their way out of class.

The potions master wasn’t sure whether to be ecstatic or terrified. The dream from a few days ago haunted him, terrified him, as did what he’s done upon waking. What if he lost his cool, what if he misinterpreted something that she said, snapped and ended up frightening her, or, Merlin forbid, forcing himself on her? He’d lose her and her friendship forever.

The thought alone made cold sweat appear on the back of his neck.

—

His heart fluttered around in his chest like mad as he awaited her arrival. She asked whether she’d be welcome to join him in his chambers after dinner, so that they could share a cup of tea, or perhaps something stronger, and talk for a bit. Aesop didn’t even think when he hurriedly answered her letter. Upon the light parchment, he only wrote a simple: ‘My door is open to you.’

He was so wound up, he actually began to sweat in his overcoat and jacket, and took them both off after a moment of consideration - he was in his rooms, after all, why shouldn't he.

When the young woman mentioned ‘something stronger’ in her letter, Aesop immediately sent for a wine as similar to the one she drank in the Leaky Cauldron as could be found in The Three Broomsticks, not thinking twice about it. The potions master couldn’t help but feel like this evening was somehow significant.

How significant - he didn't know. However, his hair stood on end, and his heart was leaping in his chest. She was meeting him for Christmas Eve… Merlin knew what would happen.

—

Aesop stared at the young woman, his eyes wide, and, to his utter indifference, beginning to fill with tears. Why would his own mind torture him this way, hurt him like this, make hope blossom with his chest, it was not fair.

And yet, as the potions master’s hands balled into fists, as his knuckles went white, as his short fingernails dug into his palms, he slowly realised that perhaps… No.

This wasn’t real.

Aesop felt the pain of his nails cutting into his own skin. He felt the warmth of the flames in the fireplace. The taste of firewhiskey lingered on his lips, the strong liquor still burning in his throat. He could smell the fragrant pine wood being burned, the scent mingling with (F/N)’s perfume. He saw the light dance around his sitting room, saw the neat stack of books on his desk. ‘Moste Potente Potions’, ‘One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi’, ‘A Collection of Above Three Hundred Receipts in Cookery, Physick, and Surgery’, he could read upon their spines perfectly.

That didn't mean anything though!

Except… except when Aesop looked into her eyes, his heart skipped a beat.

How did he never notice?

Her eyes. The spark in her eyes, the one that shone even during the darkest of nights, that one thing he was never able to capture in any of his many many sketches of her face… Aesop couldn’t help but not recall seeing it in his dreams.

“I love you, sir.”

Aesop stood up, making the girl startle slightly. His mind went blank as he reached for her, as his fingers touched her cheek. Heavens, her skin was… so soft. So smooth under his weathered hand. And when he saw her lean into his touch, the potions master swallowed heavily.

I am going to die if this isn’t real.

“Aesop,” he breathed. He needed… he needed to hear her say his name. He needed her to say that she loved him again. “I should have… I should have asked you to call me Aesop ages ago. My dearest girl…” His other hand came to stroke at her cheek.

“Aesop,” she said softly, her voice quiet.

“There is nothing I’d want more than to have you by my side,” he admitted, his thumb coming to stroke the outline of her lips, so soft and inviting. The professor did his best to commit each and every second into his memory, imprint it there forever, but then, when her delicate hands took a hold of his face and guided him lower, his head just… gave out.

Aesop groaned quietly into the kiss, the sensations spreading through his body with all the ferocity of a forest fire during a hot summer. He barely noticed his arms wrapping around the girl’s waist, was only mildly aware of the way he imprisoned her smaller body in his hold.

His brain had no chance to catch up, not when her hands were messing up his hair, not when he was allowed to taste her little sighs and gasps as they rolled wetly against his lips, tasting of wine, and of the very thing that made the young woman who she was.

It was only when he pulled back to catch his breath did he finally feel like he could think again. He stood there with his eyes closed, his arms still curled tightly around the young body. He didn’t dare open either for the fear of the young woman not being there when he did, for it to be another dream.

“Aesop,” he heard again, so close he felt her breath on his ear. With a deep inhale, the professor opened his eyes to find the Ravenclaw still standing right there, her lips ever so puffier than they were a few minutes ago, and her cheeks flushed heavily. A smile slowly spread on his face and he realised… how bloody long has it been since he smiled like this.

“Could you please…” he began, his voice hoarse, “could you please repeat what you said?” The young woman looked up at him questioningly for several moments, before opening her mouth: “Aesop?”

“No, no…” Aesop shook his head slowly, talking even quieter, “what you said before…”

It took another few seconds before the young woman remembered, her brain seemingly as scrambled as his own following their intimate interaction.

“I love you?”

Aesop sighed loudly and let his face descend into the crook of her neck. His right hand stayed where it was, resting at her lower back and pressing her closer to him, while the other one slowly trailed up her back and into her hair.

“I love you,” she repeated with conviction, embracing him sweetly, holding his head in place like she held him during that horrible night some time back. Except this time, Aesop shed no tears of pain or guilt. No.

He slowly dragged his head back up, his large nose stroking along the line of her throat, brushing up her jaw, cheek, until settling just inches away from hers. He captured her gaze, held her fluttering eyes with his own. Their breath mingled between them hotly, their close proximity intoxicating more than the alcohol. From this close, Aesop was perfectly able to see all the wonderful little intricacies of (F/N) (L/N)’s face, could very nearly count each and every one of her eyelashes, deeply drank in the sight of her little freckles, small circles under her sparkling eyes.

“I love you…” she sighed again and this time, Aesop replied in kind before pulling her in for another kiss.

—

Aesop had no clue as to how much time had passed before (F/N) finally left for the night… It must have been hours, but he still felt like it was not enough. Very much not enough. Aesop transfigured their armchairs into a single sofa in front of the flames, and then… then they kissed for a long time. Kissed, talked, kissed some more, drank more of their drinks of choice, talked in hushed intimate voices, and then kissed again.

Despite his many dreams featuring the young Ravenclaw as their star, he completely forgot just how amazing it felt to just snog the living daylights out of someone. His dreams could not hold a candle to the real thing. And yet, a part of him was still terrified that he'd wake up any minute now, alone. This part of him, however, was never left to rule his mind for long. It stood no chance against the young woman's fingers in his hair, her legs thrown over his own where he sat on the sofa, her magnificent lips melding with his, their taste sweeter than Aesop ever imagined.

He slowed down everytime he could feel their bodies heating up too much, wanting to take his time. Despite his heady, deeply erotic dreams throughout the months, Aesop was determined not to take this too fast - he wished, and he craved, and he so very much longed to hold the Ravenclaw in his arms, but he never once dared hope that he would be actually allowed to. And now that he was, he made a mental vow to not take such a gift for granted. He was going to do right by her. He was going to show her that despite the fact she could have so much better than him, he was going to do everything in his power not to make her regret that she chose him.

Later, when they held one another, their hands and fingers tentatively tracing each other's features, Aesop slowly felt sleep creeping up on him. The room grew cooler as the flames died down and the professor used his considerable build to shield his companion from the cold.

—

When Aesop woke up in the morning, the first thing he felt was a twinge of panic - was it a dream? He tried to recall the night.

Soft hands. Quiet words. Sweet lips.

He wasn't wearing his sleeping clothes.

After she's left, the potions master only managed to go and relieve his bursting bladder, before renewing the fires in his room, pulling his clothes off, and falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

It was Christmas Day 1893, and professor Aesop Sharp found himself questioning his own memory, something he never really had to do before. He knew she was there, judging by the glasses left in his sitting room and the neatly wrapped present from her. There was still a drop of firewhisky left in one of the tumblers, and, without further ado, Aesop gulped it down.

It wasn't until breakfast sometime later when his mind calmed down. His eyes sought her out immediately after he sat down, and he saw her looking at him covertly from the Ravenclaw table. She looked tired, with circles under her eyes, but Aesop swore that she was glowing. Has he ever seen her this happy? He allowed the tiniest little smile her way, before digging into his breakfast hungrily.

"Merry Christmas, Aesop," Dinah chirped next to him, seemingly out of nowhere.

It was. It was a merry Christmas indeed.

"Merry Christmas, Di."

—

Aesop awoke. His eyes fluttered a little before opening slowly, blinking away the slowly fading remains of slumber. First thing he saw in the dimness of his room, illuminated only by the embers in the fireplace, and the winter sun streaming into his chambers from the windows in his sitting room, was (F/N)(L/N).

She was sleeping in his arms, safe and secure, and finally, finally, his. Just to be sure, Aesop pinched his own hand, but a part of him knew that this was no dream. No. He remembered every single moment that led up to this one, every word, every kiss, every little touch. He remembered the way he stared into her brilliant eyes as sleep slowly claimed them the previous night, he remembered the feeling of her soft pyjamas underneath his fingertips, he remembered feeling the way her breathing evened out, the way it felt to have her chest pushed against his with every deep inhale.

No, no. This was no dream. He truly was in his bed, in his own set of pyjamas, and with his brilliant girl snuggled into his chest. Aesop felt the corners of his mouth lift and stretch into a grin so wide, it almost hurt. He could not remember the last time he smiled this hard, if ever. Very carefully, as not to wake her up, he ran his fingers through her sleep-matted hair, pushing it out of her angelic face. The potions master let a quiet sound of absolute contentment leave his mouth as he once more wrapped both of his arms around her body, his legs tangling with her own further below the covers.

The girl stirred as she was being lovingly smothered in Aesop’s embrace, though she didn’t seem to be complaining. In fact, she grabbed onto the fabric of his sleeping shirt, grabbing a fistful of material with each hand, she pulled him even closer, her nose dragging along his neck and breathing him in deeply.

“Good morning, Aesop,” she said, her voice muffled slightly between their bodies, “Did you have nice dreams?” Aesop chuckled breathlessly.

“No. I don't think I dreamed at all last night. But it does feel like I'm dreaming right now.”

I sincerely hope you enjoyed rading! As always, you can find this work and all of my other fics over on AO3. I am always incredibly grateful for feedback!

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #fanfiction #reader insert #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x you #aesop sharp smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #dinah hecat #amit thakkar (mentioned)#slow burn #fluff #smut and fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #aesop sharp needs a hug #aesop sharp is lying to himself

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harrypotterandthefandomaccount · 1 year

Text

worthy of trust

pairing: sebastian sallow x fem!reader

warnings: sebastian being a jerk & calling you ignorant, angst, feeling like you lost a friend but he makes it up to you with a lil kiss

note: i've been obsessed with hogwarts legacy and the gameplay itself is just phenomenal. 39 hours into the game lol and still so much to do, so enjoy this sebastian oneshot. based on his questline, in the shadow of the mine i think?

important note: i do NOT support hate towards the transgender or LGBTQ+ community. JKR has made her stance very clear and i could not disagree and be disgusted with her more. this fic and future ones merely pertain to the character(s) in hogwarts legacy and to my knowledge, JKR had no part in the game. if you are still mad i play the game/write fics for hogwarts legacy, you can scroll past this. thank you!

you had no qualms about trusting lodgok since sirona ryan had known him for years, along with miriam. while the both of you had been albeit hesitant at first towards one another, he had proven his loyalty to stopping ranrok and was actively trying to be one step ahead of him - which is exactly what you, sebastian, and the others wanted.

however, when the opportunity arose to tell sebastian about lodgok, it all came flooding back to you - anne.

you and sebastian had just finished clearing out a cavern of arachnids, which quite honestly, was pretty exciting. you had even reminded him that well, spiders aren't insects.

"don't you start," he had responded, a small smirk on his face.

after finding the last piece to the tryptich and hoping to solve the mystery concerning isidora morganach, returning to the undercroft was the last step. you both were eager to see if the portrait piece would fit, and once it had been placed, you were able to breathe.

"please tell me you recognize the location in this bit of canvas," you said, turning around to face your slytherin partner in crime.

he sighed, "the good news is, i do, in fact."

your shoulders dropped, "and the bad news?"

sebastian turned to look at you, "we're in for more trouble."

you groaned, leaning your head back as Sebastian's eyes seemed to darken; gluing your attention back to your slytherin friend, he continued, "i know that coast. Ranrok has taken over a huge mine and the surrounding area. Marunweem has suffered for it. It's as bad as Feldcroft's become."

with a sigh, your eyebrows knitted together and you looked at the triptych once more. sebastian glanced towards you, "should we head there now?

you shook your head, "no, we should wait."

sebastian immediately questioned you, "why?

you gave a grimanced look, "all this time, we've been a step behind ranrok. I may know someone who could help us get head."

sebastian raised an eyebrow, "who is that?"

before you could even think about formulating your answer a different way, the words slipped out, "a friendly goblin named lodgok. he wants no part in ranrok's fight."

sebastian immediately became disgusted, angry, even. "a friendly goblin?" he started, "you know goblins cursed my sister to shut her up! said she should 'be seen and not heard.'"

you took a step towards sebastian as he stepped back. taking a breath, you nodded, " i do, but not all goblins-"

he glared towards you, "not all goblins what? have you forgotten feldcroft? have you forgotten the mine we just went through?"

you sympathized with him, no doubt. you knew how close the twins were, how much Sebastian loved anne and cared for her - but this fight against ranrok was against all wizardkind, not just anne. and you knew she would understand.

shaking your head, you tried to reason with Sebastian, "no, sebastian, i haven't. you're not listening to me."

sebastian scoffed, "why would i listen to someone so ignorant?"

ouch.

you knew sebastian could be mean, cruel, but throughout these months of knowing him, he has only been so kind, sweet and soft with you. there was never any malice towards you, no anger or disgust. towards the goblins and ranrok in conversations with you, but it was never directed. it was understandable that what happened to anne was hurting Sebastian as well, but this anger was now at you, and he was changing.

you already had reservations working with lodgok before sirona ryan said you could trust him, but there was something he wasn't telling you. but it wasn't a secret that jeopardized your working relationship with him, no. if it had been, you would have turned your back and not worked with him another day.

it wasn't ignorant at all, you knew that. a bit sketchy at first, sure, but not ignorant. lodgok had proven himself trustworthy and has helped you in being one step ahead.

you stepped back in surprise, "that was cruel. perhaps your uncle was right about you - you don't know when to stop."

sebastian glowered over you, stepping forward as his words were laced with venom, "oh, i do know when to stop. unbelievable."

taking a deep breath, you turned and walked out of the undercroft, ready to scream. you understood where Sebastian was coming from but the way he talked to you was so...angering. maybe you should have lied about who it was, about what lodgok was.

but calling you ignorant? okay, yes, this was your first year learning about magic and catching up to the rest of your peers, but you earned respect and knew - for the most part - what you were doing. you would never intentionally put Sebastian, anne, ominis, whoever in danger if you were not confident.

with a sniffle, you made your way through the dark arts tower to your common room, ready to just cry about how upset and angry Sebastian was. but before you could, ominis's voice stopped you, "coming from the undercroft, are we?"

you turned around, eyes glassy with unshed tears - albeit glad that ominis couldn't see them. you gave a small smile, "oh, yes. we were just discussing a painting we found."

ominis hummed, not entirely satisfied with your answer, "your voice is shaky. what happened?"

you let out a breath, "i - we can't talk about it here, ominis. too open."

he sighed, and with his free hand, he grabbed your arm, pulling you towards an owl statue inside a small window, before it turned around and you found yourself...well, inside a wall at hogwarts.

before you had time to question ominis of where you were, he asked once more, "what happened?"

you explained everything, just leaving out the parts where Sebastian was intent on not stopping to find a cure for anne, but moreso focused on the triptych. when you revealed who lodgok was, ominis cringed.

"oh, that's not the worst part," you said, wiping a stray tear, "he asked why he should listen to someone so ignorant."

ominis winced once more, "yikes."

you grumbled, "tell me about it. i want to cry because, well, i understand why he is upset but lodgok is a lead to stopping ranrok, to being one step ahead."

your blind friend nodded, "agreed, and if sirona trusts him, that's saying something."

you both stood in silence, the occasional sniffle from your nose giving ominis hints of how much this bothered you.

"give him time to cool off," he began. "anne is a sore spot for him, but he needs to understand that she won't be the only one cursed without your goblin friend's help. you made your way into his heart, those that he cares about. you'll be fine."

you nodded, trying to formulate your words, "thank you, ominis. i apologize for putting you in the middle of this, but it was nice to have someone listen."

ominis smiled softly, "of course, y/n. meet you at dinner?"

with a quiet, "yeah," you watched ominis make his way out of the secret room, and once again, you were left with screaming thoughts. sobs immediately racked your body, regret aching from your tears and sore throat. there was nothing left by the time you were done, face dried with tears as you composed yourself.

taking a breath, you left the room and immediately looked down, seeing a letter by the 'door.' on the top left was ominis's handwriting, but the letter itself was unopened: told you he's gone soft for you.

with a pained sigh, you picked up the letter and opened it, reading the words:

we need to talk. undercroft after dinner?

"merlin's beard."

dinner was not something you could stomach at the moment, and to be honest with yourself, you were sure it could come right back up as you made your way to the undercroft. with a wave of your wand, you opened up the clock-looking door and headed inside, anxiety eating you up like a full-course meal.

sebastian had his back to you, staring intently at the triptych until he heard the door open. his eyes met yours immediately, and he softened.

"hi," he said, biting his lip nervously as you made your way over to him.

"sebastian, i-" you began, but he shook his head. with a small smile, he grabbed your hands and held them against his chest, "it's ok."

your eyes welled up with tears, "but it's not, seb. i should've been honest with you and i wasn't. I'm sorry, you have every right to hate me."

sebastian was silent as the tears fell down your cheeks until he wiped them away with his thumb. you sniffled, looking up at him. he grasped onto your hands once more, "you were hesitant to tell me because you know how much i care for anne, for my sister. you listen to me and want what is best - that has always been you. I'm not mad at you, dove. I'm mad at merlin for making that our last option."

you gave a sad excuse for a chuckle as he smiled at you. he continued, "dove, listen to me. I'm sorry for what i said. i know you aren't ignorant; i reacted harshly about your goblin friend, but you understand why?"

you immediately nodded, squeezing his hands, "of course, seb. i know how important it is for you to find a cure for anne, and i would never jeopardize that if there was a chance lodgok could betray us. but he's good, honest."

sebastian grinned, and you continued, "i'm not mad at you either, y'know. you're good to me, seb, and i was just scared i lost you."

he held your face between his hands, thumbs softly rubbing over your cheeks as he adored you, "you could never lose me, dove. you are one of the few good things left in my life and i'd be an idiot to let you go."

you swallowed a sob as tears clouded your vision, but Sebastian hushed you, "it's okay, sweetheart. we're okay - i trust you. promise."

you nodded and gave a small smile, "i trust you too, seb. promise."

leaning forward, sebastian nudged his nose with yours, and you giggled as he mumbled, "there's my pretty dove." and with that, Sebastian sealed your lips in a kiss, your hands wrapping around his neck as he grounded himself on your hips.

maybe you should send lodgok a thank you card.

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in-the-shadow-of-the-blog · 5 months

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Hope everyone gets what they want for Christmas! Sharp certainly did...

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #aesop sharp x you #aesop sharp ai #professor aesop sharp

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dreambender96 · 7 months

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Auror Sharp has a 'bad day' with a dark witch. 😏

#aesop sharp #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x you #professor aesop sharp #professor sharp #aesop sharp x oc #hogwarts legacy #fanart

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sharpfamily · 10 months

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Per Aspera Ad Astra

Happy Birthday to our favourite ex-auror potions professor! Three birthdays in the life of Aesop Sharp, brought to you by@tea-withjamandbread and @aesopsharpmybeloved. Part of collections A New Chance at Life as well as The Sharp Family Chronicles. Aesop Sharp x (adult) MC!reader

word count: 9.4 k

tw: mentions of alcohol abuse, depression, suggestive content, tooth-rotting fluff

July 1st 1881

It’s been a few days since he’s been released from St Mungo’s. Again. Dinah still had a few more days to attend to her responsibilities in Hogwarts, however, for the time being, she seemed to trust Aesop not to do anything too crazy until the term officially ended. Aesop soon discovered that all of his liquor bottles, both empty and full, had disappeared. Wonderful. There was not a single drop of alcohol left in his house. At first he felt annoyed. Irritated. Already trying to think of a way to get at least a single drink, just a little something to take the edge off.

He didn’t have an owl, and he couldn’t exactly Floo, much less walk to some shop or pub. Not in his current state. Wiggenweld potion could only do so much, and while it did heal the smaller cuts and scrapes and helped with the pain, his hands were still bandaged in order to keep the healing balm applied to them from drying up while it restored his mangled hands. If he didn’t look miserable before his breakdown, he absolutely looked miserable now.

There was no way he could go anywhere like this… and there was no way anyone would be willing to bring him anything either. Aesop didn’t know how many people knew about his collapse - he was certain Dinah would make sure the number was minimal - but he was absolutely certain his mother knew. Abraham too, possibly. And the very thought of flooiong one of his (now former) colleagues to ask them to send him a drink? He shuddered. No. They’d ask questions. They’d possibly come over. They couldn’t see him like this.

Dinah was right. As she usually was, of course. He probably should lay off the booze for a while. Aesop wheeled himself throughout the downstairs of his childhood home. The mirror in the ground floor bathroom was left nothing more than a frame - Dinah probably vanished all of the broken glass. As he slowly rode through his kitchen, a picture frame caught his eye. In it was a photograph, and Aesop almost couldn't recognise his own face in it.

He didn’t even know why Ashley would get a camera - probably to take photos of her son, first and foremost - but she had brought it to his birthday dinner last year. She wasn’t a particularly good photographer, but a few nice shots were taken that night a year ago. This was one of them - he was standing by the bar in the Leaky Cauldron, actually looking quite handsome and very confident, Dinah next to him and Abraham on the other side. The photograph was moving like they were moving back then - grinning, laughing, clinking their glasses together.

And then, suddenly, Ashley appeared, peeking out from the corner of the photo, wanting to be in the picture while taking it. She looked like she always did - carefree, optimistic, confident. Her wild streak has lowered somewhat since she and her wife got their little boy, but she was still the kind of person who walked into the room and lit it up with her mere presence.

He wheeled over to the photograph and placed it face down on the shelf where it stood. He couldn’t look at it anymore. Those happy memories had been his reality only a year ago. To him, though, it felt like a century had passed. The man whose birthday was being celebrated in that photograph was someone else. A happy man with his whole life ahead of him. A man with a successful career, who still struggled with his love life to be certain, but who hadn’t given up on his dream of settling down and raising a family in the home in which he himself had spent his entire life.

A family? He wasn’t sure he could even… Not that anyone would ever want that from him anymore. Who could see him as any more than the cripple that he was. That dream of having a family of his own died the moment he stepped on to that godforsaken ship. It had vanished the very moment he had led his partner, his oldest friend, the one he was supposed to protect, to her death. His hubris having cost her all of her dreams and plans as well.

He decided that the birthday captured in the photograph Ashley had taken would be the last one he celebrated. He would have more birthdays, of course, Dinah having knocked some sense into him after his breakdown. He had already been the cause of enough pain and suffering for those he cared about the most. So he would make a point to survive, to continue existing, for them, but he saw no need to boast about having circled the sun one more time. Not when his partner hadn’t circled it with him.

Suddenly he heard the door open. He wasn't expecting company, in fact he had specifically requested that no one visit him today. He didn't want to worry anyone but he also didn't want to face their feeble attempts at cheering him up, at making him feel special on the anniversary of his birth. He didn't want to see the sadness and pity in their eyes. They did their best to hide it, of course, but he knew it was there. He was a pitiful sight indeed. He wheeled himself around as fast as he could manage and drew his wand, not that it would do him much good in his current state, the bandages on his hands making his grip awkward. If it came to it, he didn't know if he'd even be able to defend himself and his home in the event of an unsavory intruder.

He recognized the footsteps instantly and pocketed his wand.

Of course she'd show up anyways. The nerve.

Dinah bloody Hecat.

He heard the door close and wheeled himself to greet his guest. He'd at least give her that courtesy. When the younger, now older looking woman appeared in his line of sight, he saw she had come armed with a large bag of groceries. She looked at him.

"You look like hell."

"Lovely to see you too."

Dinah walked right past him, heading straight for the kitchen. Aesop thought she might have walked straight into him if he hadn’t quickly wheeled himself backwards. He supposed he still retained some of his Auror reflexes even after everything.

Dinah set down her bag and started unloading everything, pulling out potatoes, carrots, parsnips, various herbs, a jar of broth, some dried mushrooms and a large piece of meat out of the bag. Aesop knew instantly that she had come here on someone else’s errand. She had never been much of a cook herself after all. Aesop however, recognized his mother’s venison stew when he saw it, even in its currently disassembled state.

“Mum sent you, didn’t she."

It wasn't a question.

“She’s worried about you, Aesop. Especially today of all days”

“There’s nothing special about today. It’s just… a day”

“It’s your birthday, Aesop”

“Why does that even ma-“

Dinah dind't give him the time to finish, fixing him with a stare so intense, he had to stifle a tremble.

“It matters because 34 years ago your mother labored for about the same number of hours in order to bring you into this world. She then raised you along with your father until he was gone. Then she somehow found the strength to raise you AND provide for you by herself while grieving her own husband. It matters because she made sure you had everything you needed for your education, because she saw you through your Auror training AND career and earlier this year, she thought she’d be laying you to rest next to her husband instead of the other way around. So today, on the anniversary of your birth, even though YOU don’t want to see her, she STILL wanted to make sure you got to eat your favorite meal, so I am here, Aesop Theodore Sharp, on HER errand and I WILL see this through, even if I have to bind you to that infernal chair of yours and force feed you myself.”

Aesop pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew his mother deserved better than the worry he had put her through not just this year, but during his entire career as an Auror. And as much as he hated to admit it, he knew that Dinah could, and would follow through with her threat. Hell, the woman could have taken him down at his peak, let alone the sorry state he currently found himself in.

"Dinah-"

"As I was saying, I'm not here to celebrate. I’m here to make sure you don't starve to death. Also this house needs tidying up… you know I'm always afraid of tripping over something or another when I visit you nowadays. My balance isn't the worst for someone my…well for someone with the body I have, but it's not getting any better"

It was easy for Aesop to forget that Dinah, while exhibiting a strong facade and with her fierce personality, still hadn’t fully made peace with her own career-ending injury. Although she had remade herself as Hogwarts’ Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, he knew this was not her first choice. He would have to remake himself in due time, the pension he received from the Ministry barely covering his living expenses, but he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet at least.

Dinah busied herself browning the meat for the stew when she addressed her friend once more.

"You need to bathe, Aesop, you smell quite terrible."

"I… it's been a few days."

"I can tell. Do you need my help or can you manage on your own?"

"I think I can manage."

“Good."

Aesop wheeled himself to his bedroom where he carefully got undressed and discarded his clothes in the now overflowing laundry bin. Well, it wasn’t exactly his bedroom, the room had originally served as a study, however, following his injury, ascending the flight of stairs that led to his bedroom was no longer an option, so his mother had conjured a bed and had attempted to make the room as cozy as she could. He appreciated her efforts, but it just wasn’t the same. Nothing was, come to think about it.

With a towel around his body for some semblance of privacy, he slowly made his way to the bathroom and took the bandages off his hands. They looked a little better today, but he would still need to reapply that healing balm for another week according to the Healers at St Mungo’s. He sat on the bench that had been conjured in the shower and turned the water on. He carefully went through the now considerably lengthy ritual of lathering his hair and body, being careful not to irritate his hands too much.

The scars on his leg and face used to be excruciating, however the passage of time as well as rigorous desensitization as part of his shower routine had made them almost painless to the touch. If only his blasted leg would have improved in the same manner he’d maybe have a shot at a fulfilling life. However, he had been told to get used to it, to “learn to live” with his injury. He could never get used to this. He would never get used to it. Perhaps there was something out there that could help him.

He put those thoughts aside and shut the water off, dried himself and opened the door leading to his hopefully temporary bedroom. He instantly noticed that the windows had been opened, a warm summer breeze gently blowing in the large bedroom. His bed had been made, the overflowing laundry bin had been emptied and there were clean, comfortable clothes laid out on his bed, next to the armchair he sat on while getting dressed.

That woman truly was incorrigible. As he got dressed though, he realized how nice it felt to breathe the fresh summer air that was cleansing the room, as opposed to the stale air he had been inhaling ever since he had been discharged from St Mungo’s. He hadn’t been opening the windows at night like he used to before his injury. In that moment, he remembered how much he enjoyed it, though. Tonight he’d make a point to open his bedroom windows before turning in. He also realized how his shower, how the simple turned not-so-simple act of washing his body had put him in a slightly better mood. He applied the healing balm to his hands and bandaged them before making his way towards the door.

As Aesop left his bedroom, he could already smell the stew Dinah had prepared, which had just started to simmer. He could also smell the freshly brewed tea she had prepared. As he approached her, seated at the dining room table, the chair that would normally be next to her having been vanished in what he assumed was an invitation to join her, he noticed she had already poured them both a cup, and that she was currently poring over his mail, which had accumulated over the past week. He hadn’t bothered to sort through any of it since returning home.

“Still only cream in your tea?”

“Of course”

Dinah handed him his cup as well as a pile of letters

“These require your immediate attention”

“I’ll… make sure I deal with them, then”

Dinah handed him a quill, barely looking up from her organizing.

“No time like the present, Aesop.”

Aesop took the quill without argument and started filling out the various forms Dinah had given him. Applications for additional disability pay from the Ministry, tax forms, appeal letters to send to the Ministry requesting they cover the various experimental treatments he had received to attempt to heal his injury sustained in the line of duty. Once in awhile Dinah added a form or two to his workload, while sorting out the mail she deemed as rubbish.

“This one appears to be an offer letter fo work for the Auror recruitment program”

“They told me to 'take all the time I need' but they’re really hoping I don’t need time at all don’t they. That I’ll just bounce back, so to speak.”

“It would appear so”

Aesop sighed. “I’m not ready, Dinah. I can barely take care of myself at the moment. I can barely even walk from here to the front door of my own house. How could I-”

Dinah placed her hand on his

“You don’t have to accept the position right now, Aesop. I read the letter and they appear willing to wait for you to recover more before you’d-”

“I’m not sure I even want that job. I don’t think it would be right for me to take it”

“You can think about it later. For now, let’s get us some fresh air.”

Dinah stood up and made her way towards the side door, past the kitchen, where the stew she had prepared was still simmering. Aesop followed her outside. She sat on the stone bench closest to the house, overlooking the now quite unkempt garden. Aesop wheeled himself right next to her, a difficult feat on the uneven terrain. He really ought to get walking again, lest he spend the rest of his life confined to his house. They sat in comfortable silence.

“That stew does smell delicious. You did a great job.”

“Well, your mother was very clear in her instructions. All I did was follow.”

“You did so much more than that.”

“I know you’d have done the same for me. You did, in fact, if I remember correctly.” Aesop had been there for her when Dinah had been wounded on the job. He had been there at the hospital, and had helped her tremendously when she moved back to her home. He had even offered for her to move back in with him. They were no longer romantically involved, but he had still been ready to put his life and plans on pause to help her in any way he could. She had declined his kind offer but appreciated it nonetheless.

“Yes, well… that’s what friends are for, I suppose.”

They had been through so much together. A failed romantic relationship turned friendship for the ages. They had each seen each other at their worst and would eventually make peace with their respective situations, and see themselves at their best once more. For now, though, the present moment was all that existed.

"You know, you told me I'd hate you come September… you're going to try a lot harder to get me to that point."

"Term just ended. I have plenty more time now to be a thorn in your side."

Aesop chuckled, perhaps for the first time in a long time

"Thank you for being here today."

July 1st 1893

The last week of school flew by in front of Aesop’s eyes. Exams were done, and both teachers and students could breathe a sigh of relief. He had helped his sweetheart settle into the little house she rented at the edge of Hogsmeade throughout the last few days, her various books and tomes, the majority of her clothes, the little knick knacks and memorabilia she collected during her three years at Hogwarts.

And, of course, the beasts. Some would be released back into the wild, as the poachers throughout the Highlands severely lessened in numbers, following this insane (former) Ravenclaw student crashing into their operations. A few more vulnerable ones would be found new homes, as would be the girl’s new apprenticeship at Brood and Peck, and some she simply wished to keep and care for herself. With Aesop’s help, they transfigured the inside of a large chest into something of a Sanctuary for the beasts his love would be keeping. Deek aided in their relocation, having a hard time saying goodbye to them. (F/N) had promised the elf he was welcome to visit them whenever he wanted.

The Seventh year’s ball rolled around, then graduation, then the teary-eyed departure of most of the students on the Hogwarts express. Aesop wouldn’t admit it, but he too had shed a few tears all those years ago, when he boarded that train for the last time.

Today, however, was not a day for tears. It was Saturday, which meant his sweetheart had two more days to settle in and get her bearings before officially beginning her adult life and her new job. She usually woke up before him, but it seemed the turbulent few days left the young woman in a state of exhaustion. It was the first time she spent the night in her new abode, and Aesop graciously agreed to help her find out if the bed was any good.

Well, it definitely wasn’t as good as the bed he slept in at Hogwarts, nor the one in his own house, being softer than he was used to. However, he noted that his back wasn’t troubling him upon waking up, which was a small victory. Much bigger victory currently craddled in his arms. His beautiful young lover was curled into his side, her breathing soft and even, her hair matted and messy with sleep, and a bit of drool was dried upon her jowl. The potions master thought she looked like a dream come true.

He took in his surroundings, the room was unfamiliar and had yet to be lived in, but it had every bit the potential to become a very cozy bedroom. The floors were straight and firm, the wallpapers pleasant to the eyes, the windows let in a lot of natural light. Speaking of the windows, they were currently open to let the fresh summer morning air in, and Aesop could hear the wizarding village waking up and coming to life. In a few hours, the streets would be filled with people enjoying what was looking to be a sunny Saturday. Aesop closed his eyes again with a content little hum, burrowing further into the light smooth sheets and his sweetheart’s arms.

It all still felt rather surreal, really. Every single night he went to bed with the lovely Ravenclaw, he expected to wake alone and realize it's all been nothing but a dream. And while he did wake up alone on quite a few mornings, it took only a few seconds for him to know that it certainly hadn't been a dream. There was the faint floral scent of his lover's perfume clinging to his sheets, to his pillows, to him. It was all around him in this intoxicating vapor, mingling with the cool air around him. There was sometimes a note, carefully folded upon one of the seats of the large leather sofa, directly in his field of view from the bed. There was the absence of the shirt he wore the previous day…

Even now, when she was resting in his arms, soft, warm and absolutely real, Aesop bit into his bottom lip to make sure it wasn't a dream. He was startled then, as a sudden loud sound came from outside, followed by some more commotion and the frustrated voice of Zonko's shopkeeper. Probably a firework gone haywire. The young girl stirred against him, groaning quietly.

"Good morning, you," Aesop said softly, a smile appearing on his face on its own accord. His beloved tilted her head and her eyes fluttered open. The first thing she saw was Aesop, and he felt his heart throb, when her own face stretched in a smile, her sleepy eyes immediately filled with love and devotion. She looked around the room then, an adorable little line between her eyebrows as she slowly began to realise she wasn't in Aesop's chambers, nor was she in her dorm.

And then it hit her. The young woman released a breathy chuckle and her legs curled around one of Aesop's own. The potions master felt her warm cheek on his collarbone, he felt her hands caress his furry torso. It was then he had a little realisation himself - his sweetheart was also making sure she wasn't dreaming. And it was this knowledge that made him drop his head back onto the pillow, his eyes closing in bliss.

“Good morning, Aesop,” she whispered before raising her head a little to place a kiss between his jaw and his chin. She released a soft sigh then, gently resting her forehead against his collarbone once more. Aesop’s heart beat loudly in his chest, and he was certain she knew it was only for her. “Merlin, it's so strange… no homework, no essays, no studying… so strange to wake up and know that I don’t have to do anything...” On her mouth was a content smile, very much reminding Aesop of a kneazle that got the cream. “Oh, yes,” he answered, voice light and teasing, “for exactly two days. Then off to work with you!” The girl snorted against his skin, and when she lifted her head again, Aesop was nearly certain she was keeping herself back from sticking out her tongue at him.

“Besides,” he continued, his large hands stroking over her sides and back, relishing at the feeling of her silky soft skin under his calloused fingertips, “don’t forget that you’re not in Hogwarts anymore. There are no house elves - you cook for yourself, clean after yourself, the full deal.” She was lazily twirling strands of his chest hair around her index finger, her face absolutely relaxed: “I can do that. I think. I can cook a little, and I tend to keep things tidy. It’s just… Well, my household spells are still a bit shabby. I think I’m going to get frustrated trying to wash the dishes using magic, and will end up just doing it by hand anyway.” Aesop chuckled, the girl atop his chest bouncing softly with the motion. “All in good time,” he said, “Rome wasn’t built in a day, and just like everything else, household spells need to be practiced in order to be perfected. I can help you with that.”

They lay in the girl’s bed, legs entwined, just enjoying the calm summer morning. “What will you be doing, by the way, now that you’ve no classes to teach and school work to grade for the next two months?” She inquired curiously. “Me? Oh, I’ll be staying in your bed every day, teasing you that you have to go to work!” the potions master grinned and promptly received a playful smack to the chest. “No, no. I still have some unfinished things at Hogwarts, not to mention my trunk’s still in my chambers, terribly unpacked, I'm afraid. There’s several teacher meetings during the summer as well. I’ll be brewing potions for the hospital wing throughout the two months so that it’s all stocked up for the following term. I'll be revising the curriculum - though I hardly ever make changes to it - and I also need to tidy up the house a bit. It does get dusty after ten months. However, that all can wait. It can definitely wait for the two free days.”

And so Aesop Sharp and (F/N)(L/N) spent the beautiful July day simply enjoying their freedom and their company. The young woman insisted on preparing their breakfast by hand, and while it was ‘just’ scrambled eggs and some toast, Aesop was certain they were the best scrambled eggs he’d ever eaten, simply because they were prepared by her and he was able to enjoy them in her company alone.

Afterwards he showed her how to properly clean the dishes with magic, starting with a single teacup. They picked up and cleaned the singular dishes back and forth, until everything was clean. A single flick of Aesop’s wand summoned a towel from a hook, which promptly began drying the dishes clean. Another flick, and the dry ones floated to their respective spaces and stored themselves. With a smile, he observed his young lover’s awed expression. “No worries,” he promised, “you’ll have perfected it before the year is done.”

They decided to go for a little stroll along the banks of the Black lake later, talking softly, basking in the sunlight. Aesop, whose entire wardrobe was still at Hogwarts, chose to only wear his trousers, shirt and waistcoat, opting to leave his jacket and overcoat behind, as it was entirely too warm to wear them. He still applied a little cooling charm on all articles of his clothing for comfort. When his sweetheart got dressed, he realised that it really had not been often he saw her out of her uniform or her adventuring ensembles. He certainly couldn’t wait to remedy that, he thought, as he observed the dress she chose for their outing. It was light, sleek and simple, and it complimented all of her curves perfectly. She saw him staring and actually twirled for him with a wink. Little minx.

Aesop offered his arm to her, and his heart squeezed tightly at the display of emotion he saw in her eyes when she immediately accepted it. They walked all the way to the spot she brought him during their late night hippogriff flight. “You know, back then I had to use all of my energy not to just turn my head and kiss you,” (F/N) laughed quietly, a small blush on her cheeks. Aesop grinned and looked towards the dark, murky water, remembering that spring night. He could almost see the memory in front of his eyes. His sweetheart skipping stones at the shore, him standing behind her, longing.

A shuffle next to him brought him out of his thoughts. The young woman was currently pulling off her summer dress, baring the skin of her legs. “What are you doing?” he asked, eyes as big as saucers. Normally, her taking off her clothes would get nothing but positive feedback from him, however, seeing as they were out in the open, in broad daylight, he very much doubted the woman had some tender fun on her mind right now. She grinned at him giddily as she finally managed to escape the fabric and folded it haphazardly. She disposed of it on the same boulder he leaned against over a year ago, her shoes already sitting on it, and, with a wink, began running towards the water, in nothing but her chemise and drawers.

“No way…” the potions master shook his head, even as the corners of his mouth began twitching. And then, with a single tiny squeal, (F/N) threw herself head first into the Black lake. He was smiling fully now, finding her youthful playfulness and unadulterated joy incredibly endearing. He walked closer to the water’s edge. His sweetheart emerged a second later, drenched from head to toe, grinning wildly. She was slightly flushed from the cold, but otherwise looked in utmost bliss.

“I hope you don’t expect me to jump in after you,” he said wryly, crossing his arms over his chest. The woman laughed with all the meriness of a child. She swam closer to the shore for a bit, so that she could stand while she pushed her wet hair out of her face: “Honestly, I was rather hoping you would, but I’m not going to force you. Although I’m telling you, you’re missing out!” And with that, she leaned back and began idly floating on her back.

Aesop looked at her form. The white chemise was clinging to her body, her skin showing through the wet material. Dropping the cooling charm he put on his clothes, he noticed just how hot the day turned. Suddenly the water seemed all the more appealing. He admired the curves of his lover’s body, his hands already itching to trace them as he unconsciously pulled at his own clothes. He knew she was watching him out of the corner of her eye, actually saw her roll her eyes a little as he conjured a small leather holster for his wand and tied it around his bony ankle and shin.

She rolled around to look at him fully when he took a step after step towards the water. Despite the hot weather, the water was cold, and it nipped at his skin, but Aesop didn’t let that stop him. Another step. The water was now at his calves, then knees, and getting higher. He winced slightly when he was half submerged, baling his hands into fists as he battled the cold. But then he saw her little smirk, the challenge still shining in her eyes. With a huff, Aesop dived under the water. The sudden shock his body experienced was quickly overcome when he saw his sweetheart’s legs underwater, kicking slowly to keep her afloat.

He grabbed her just above her knees and rose above the surface. He faintly heard her little squeal before a pair of arms wrapped around his neck and her playful eyes connected with his own. Her legs found purchase around his waist and he released them in favour of curling his own arms around her waist. He stared triumphantly into her eyes for a moment, before chasing her lips in a very wet and a little cold kiss, prompting a happy humming sound from his beloved.

Aesop was done with missing out.

It was late afternoon when they returned to (F/N)'s new abode. They spent the better part of the day by the water, swimming, playing, and simply relaxing. While his sweetheart busied herself with conjuring up a blanket for them to sit on on the bank, Aesop cast just a few protective wards around them, so that they could enjoy themselves in solitude and safety. He couldn't even remember the last time he's had a day like this. They swam, they rested on the blanket, they swam some more. It was so simple, and yet Aesop's heart was fluttering with absolute contentment. Once they dried themselves, got dressed, vanished the blanket and dropped the wards, they simply apparated back to the little house. The potions master prepared a dinner for them with magic, since they were both starving by the time they arrived.

His sweetheart watched in amazement as some of the various food items she brought over to her new home the previous day floated about, cut themselves up perfectly and arranged themselves around a small baking dish. Chicken legs with roasted vegetables it was. Within just a few seconds, their food was ready, looking amazing and smelling even better. They ate their fill in a comfortable silence until: "You know, this is spectacular, and I'd surely like to learn how to do it," she said quietly, "however, I actually quite enjoy cooking by hand." Aesop chuckled, piercing a baked potato onto his fork: "So do I. Many people do, this is just quick and convenient. And while it tastes alright, you'd be moaning at the taste was I to prepare it by hand," he spoke confidently. His young lover giggled into her food: "You can still make me moan tonight, if you want to."

Aesop very much wanted to.

Later, as they were coming down from their highs, snuggled perfectly in each other's arms, the professor took some time to reflect. He really could not remember the last time he had such an amazing birthday… he tended to even forget he had one, not having celebrated it since that fateful day twelve years ago. But today, despite his sweetheart not knowing that on this day, 45 years ago, Aesop Theodore Sharp took his first breath, she very much made him feel like the birthday boy.

He cuddled up even closer to her, his strong arms squeezing her frame, still hot from their previous activity. His lips found hers in a deep kiss and afterwards, the professor rested his forehead against her own, breathing the same air as her. "I want to thank you…" he said quietly, only for her ears to hear, "this was the best birthday I've had in years."

He could feel her body tensing immediately. "Today's your birthday?" she asked, raising her head to look at him. Her beautiful eyes were wide and filled with panic: "Why didn't you tell me? I don't- I don't even have a present for you." He quickly pulled her up for a kiss, stroking her back in a calming matter. "I haven't celebrated my birthday for a long time... And as for a present - why, you already gave it to me!" His sweetheart fixed him with a curious gaze and Aesop sighed: "To be able to hold you, kiss you, love you… this entire day was the greatest gift I could've asked for. To have your heart in my hands, that is the most precious thing I've ever been given."

The young woman sighed as well, and wrapped her delicate arms around him, nuzzling into his neck momentarily before raising her head up again, a brilliant smile on her face, a smile of love, devotion and incredible joy: "Still, we should celebrate. You deserve a day to be spoiled rotten!"

"You are already spoiling me rotten!"

"Hah, I try to, but we should still celebrate. Let me take you to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow for a meal. We can have a good bite, champagne, who knows, perhaps Sirona will be able to get us a cake!"

Aesop chuckled, his cheeks warming up somewhat. It was strange - the idea of actually celebrating his birthday after he hadn't done so for so long. However, as strange as it felt, he could already feel the pleasurable tickling of anticipation. "Alright…" he breathed then, "if you want to. But know that I would've been happy enough to just spend the day in your company."

His sweetheart fixed him with an intense gaze, her eyes sincere: "I want to. Because I finally can. We spent so much time sneaking around, I long to finally be able to show how I feel openly. I want to grab your hand in mine when we walk together, I yearn to be able to kiss and hold you whenever I wish. And I really want to celebrate that on this day, the most incredible man was born. I don't know what I'd do without you here. Perhaps I wouldn't be here myself, if you hadn't gone to the Astronomy tower that day. You are an exceptionally beautiful existence, Aesop Sharp, and your birthday should be celebrated."

The potions master swallowed heavily, willing away the tears that threatened to form in his eyes. Her confession shook him to his core, and, in that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to hold her in his arms. Aesop truly did not think he'd ever celebrate his birthday again. Since Ashley's death, he really thought that he wasn't entitled to do so. But perhaps his sweetheart hadn't been entirely wrong. Perhaps him saving her life tipped the scales a little. If Ashley could see him now… well, she'd probably smack his shoulder very hard and tell him to pull his head out of his arse and seize the chance he's been given, like a proper Slytherin would. In that moment, he felt a sense of peace wash over him, and his breathing slowly evened out.

"Alright, my sweet," he said only, as her face once more nuzzled into his shoulder, more than content to stay there. Aesop breathed out slowly, his arms wrapping around the young woman's body in a protective manner.

The room was dark and Aesop could hear sounds of the village outside falling asleep. He could hear faint music coming from the Three Broomsticks, and he heard silent voices caught in a conversations, as their owners passed by the little house. The air smelled sweet with the sun having warmed it the entire day. Aesop closed his eyes, basking in the feeling of love, of comfort.

The next day, his sweetheart did exactly as she promised. She walked with him into the Three Broomsticks, hand in hand, looking proud and happy. She kissed him out in the open, before they even opened the door to the pub, absolutely uncaring to whoever saw them. The look she gave him afterwards… Aesop realised that she did want to do that for some time. That the fact that she was his own filled her with pride. That the young woman, who defeated a troll during the first week of her studies, willingly gave her heart to one ex-Auror potions professor. In a moment of giddy madness, Aesop grabbed her around the waist, dipped her ever so slightly, and snogged the living daylights out of her.

"Are you quite done? Your stew's getting cold," came the voice of Sirona Ryan, who was leaning against the doorframe with a mischievous look in her eyes. Aesop fixed his sweetheart with a curious look.

"I may have written to professor Hecat to ask what's your favourite food when you were still sleeping," she admitted with a shy smile, "and I also may have written to Sirona, asking her to prepare it for you, as well as get us a cake afterwards." Sirona watched the scene unfold before her eyes, a big smile on her face: "Happy birthday, Professor Sharp." "Thank you, Sirona."

It truly seemed his life was to be filled with strong-willed and strong-minded women. He was quite the lucky man.

July 1st 1908

It was morning in the Sharp household and a summer breeze gently blew through the open window of Mr and Mrs Sharp's bedroom. The gentle sound of birds chirping could be heard but didn't wake the occupants of the bedroom, currently soundly asleep in each other's arms. A sound did manage to rouse Mrs Sharp though. The pitter patter of little feet and the creaking of floorboards.

Someone was awake. Actually, judging by the sound of it, more than one of the children was on the move. She knew the children had been looking forward to surprising their father with breakfast in bed for his birthday, but she hadn't managed to piece together much more than that. She didn't know what they were planning to prepare, and thought it would probably be best if she made her way downstairs to assist or, at the very least, supervise.

As gently as she could, she tried to extricate herself from her husband's grip without waking him up. It was still early and she wanted to let him sleep for a little bit. Aesop had other plans though, having been woken by his wife's feeble attempt at leaving their shared bed.

"Where do you think you're going, darling?"

He pulled her towards him and held her close, her back completely flush against his front. She could feel his morning arousal as he kissed her neck.

"You weren't just going to leave me to wake up by myself, today of all days."

He continued gently nipping at her neck, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on her skin. With a sigh, she melted into his embrace and he took the opportunity to gently turn her on her back, moving his hands along her body and moving his kisses to her collarbones, her body semi-trapped underneath his large frame.

It had taken some number of years, but eventually (F/N) had managed to convince her husband that his birthday was a day that deserved to be celebrated, and he eventually got to enjoy being the center of attention for just this one day a year. Perhaps a little too much at times! It seemed as though he was already quite eager to unwrap his birthday present from her.

This morning, though, as much as she enjoyed the way his kisses and touch were slowly lighting her body on fire, as much as she wanted to give in and give him what he wanted, what they both wanted, she knew she needed to make her way downstairs, before their children would have the chance to set fire to the kitchen. However the feeling of her husband's very experienced hands making their way towards her more sensitive areas, the knowledge that his mouth would soon follow, was enough to make her momentarily forget about the possible disaster that she would find downstairs should she choose to indulge her husband.

"Aesop I-"

"Hmmm"

Aesop knew what he was doing. He trailed kisses down her abdomen and she knew then and there that she had lost the battle. She'd deal with the chaos later. Right now there was only one person that existed in the world and that person was about to…

CLANG!

The loud sound coming from the kitchen put an instant end to the couple's morning's activities, their arousal instantly replaced with concern. Concern for the structural integrity of their home, as well as the safety of its occupants. Aesop begrudgingly made his way back up to the head of the bed.

"I should go investigate that."

"Probably a good idea. Let's go see what the rascals are up to now."

"YOU are going to stay right here, sir, and act surprised when the children bring you whatever it is they planned on making you for your birthday breakfast. I will go downstairs and make sure we still have a house by the time they're done."

Aesop gave her a mock pout as his wife quickly got herself dressed for the morning.

"Don't worry, love. I'll make sure you get to unwrap your birthday present… after the rascals are in bed."

One quick kiss from his wife before she swiftly left the room and quietly closed the door.

Aesop heard his older son speak right outside the bedroom door, he had probably been on the way to ask for his mother's help with whatever it was the children had planned.

"Is he still asleep, Mum?"

His wife whispered

"Still sound asleep, dear."

"Brilliant!"

"Shhhhhh"

Eleazar lowered his voice

"Right. Quiet"

"Let's get downstairs"

Down they went and Aesop was left with his thoughts. He could hear the faint buzzing of his family in the kitchen, his wife no doubt deferring to their children's plans for his breakfast and letting them do as much as they were able to manage on their own. He remembered his birthday breakfast in bed from the previous year with fondness. A half burnt over-salted omelet along with biscuits (slightly undercooked), tea (weak) and a bowl of strawberries he ended up having to surrender to his 3 year old twins. It had been quite unpalatable, but seeing the pride in his children's eyes when they had told him they had cooked everything themselves had made the meal the best birthday breakfast he had ever had. He knew the children would outdo themselves this year.

He had been a father for a whole decade by now, but sometimes he still couldn't believe that the rambunctious bunch that was currently being supervised by his darling wife, those four bundles of joy and chaos, were his. That this was his life now. He had known as a young man that he wanted children and had given up on this dream at one point of his life. He had never expected though, that he could love these four little people as much as he did.

He was pulled out of his reverie by the smell of bacon. Wonderful, he thought, one can only mess up bacon so much! He knew his family would enter the bedroom any minute now to “wake him up” so Aesop laid down on his side of the bed, turned away from the door and closed his eyes. He heard the door creak open.

“He’s still sleeping”

“Shhhhh”

“Wait, no we need to wake him up!”

“I can do it!”

“Alright dear but be gentle”

“Okay Mum”

“Thedodore don’t jump on-”

Aesop felt the bed dip and braced himself for what he was sure was an incoming tackle from a rambunctious four year old.

“Hmphhh”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!”

“My birthday isn’t until next week Theodore”

The boy stood up and looked at his mother in confusion

“He’s just pulling your leg, dear”

“That’s right, I’m just” Aesop physically tugged at his son’s legs, causing him to land flat on his back on the soft bed and dissolve in a fit of giggles “messing with you!”

The former professor looked at his family. Everyone was still in their pajamas, some of his children's clothes bearing the proof of their efforts in making his breakfast, little spots of dried batter the most evident. Both his daughters' hair were still in the braids he had woven the previous evening, now with stray strands sticking out in odd directions from their slumber. Theodore obviously hadn't brushed his hair yet, while Eleazar looked as put together as he usually did, wearing a light dressing gown and bearing the least bits of Aesop's breakfast on his clothes. He caught his wife's eyes - they were shining with pride. She was, of course, completely clean, her silky dressing gown as pristine as it had been before she left the bedroom.

Four pairs of his own brown eyes stared up at him with excitement and anticipation, and Aesop felt his heart swell when he saw the perfect mix of himself and his wife in each of their beautiful children.

Maggie approached her father with a tray.

“We made you breakfast in bed!”

Aesop took a look at the tray from his daughter and from what he could see, the children HAD outdone themselves. He was right about the bacon, there were also scrambled eggs, pancakes, a lovely fruit salad, a cup of tea, and a small bowl filled with chocolate chips.

“I cooked the eggs and the bacon and I tried to flip the first pancake, but it didn’t turn out nice, so we tossed it, then Mum helped me make the second one but the one on top I did all by myself!”

“That’s wonderful Maggs.”

“And (F/N) and Theo were in charge of mixing the fruit salad and filling the chocolate chips.”

“That salad looks expertly mixed, thank you. Eleazar, what did you do to help?”

“I measured out everything for the pancake batter AND I brewed the tea. I even used the scales like you taught me!”

Eleazar spoke with great pride. Last year his father had started to teach him the basics of potionmaking and the lad had taken to the craft like a fish to water. Aesop took a sip of his tea.

“That’s some very good tea, Thank you Eleazar”

The boy beamed.

The twins each sat on one side of him and Aesop made sure to grab himself a handful of chocolate chips before the inevitable happened and he’d have to surrender the sweets to his youngest children.

“Alright, everyone, let’s let Dad eat his breakfast in peace now. Then we can all have fun. Shop’s closed today so we get to keep Dad all to ourselves for the day.”

(F/N) herded the children out of the bedroom and handed Aesop what was left of his little bowl of sweets.

“Enjoy your food, darling, I’ll get the little ones dressed then we can do whatever it is you’d like.”

She gave him a kiss before leaving the room. Aesop was pleased to find out that everything had been seasoned well this year, most likely due to Eleazar’s precise measurement of ingredients. Once his breakfast had been eaten, Aesop got dressed and did his morning hygiene before joining his family downstairs, empty tray in hand. The weather seemed nice, perhaps they could go to the beach for a picnic and a swim.

The potions master walked into the kitchen, which actually bore less signs of the breakfast preparation than his children's clothes did. No doubt his wife's prompt work with a wand. His eyes were caught by the sight of many moving photographs displayed on a shelf. Aesop stopped for a moment, looking at the pictures fondly. The photo with Ashley taken 28 years ago on this very day was proudly standing among other happy photos. There was a picture of him and his wife on their wedding day, grinning at each other, both looking incredible as well as incredibly in love. His sweetheart still looked at him this way, even 12 years after that beautiful June day, and he knew he did as well. There were the newer pictures, his children at various ages, from mere babies and toddlers, to a very recent photo of Maggie holding a very fluffy Puffskein. And then, there were some older ones, too. A moving photo of young Aesop, taken the day he got into the Auror program, looking proud and confident, as well as a single completely still photo of his dear wife, taken by a Muggle camera.

Aesop deposited the tray into the sink and with a flick of his wand, the dishes got to cleaning themselves. His wife walked towards him and put her arms around his abdomen, pressing herself against his back.

“You’re not supposed to be doing any dishes today.”

“It’s nothing, besides you already have your hands full with the children.”

“They can take care of themselves… mostly.”

Aesop turned around to face his wife. They had circled the sun many times together but she still looked as young and beautiful as the day he married her.

“I was thinking I’d like to take everyone to the coast for lunch, let the children play in the water.”

“Only the children?”

“I suppose we could also go for a dip, for old time’s sake.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

He leaned in and captured her lips in a quick kiss, before being interrupted by Maggie and Eleazar.

"Dad, how old are you turning?" Aesop decided not to volunteer that information. The former teacher in him made him want to make his children work for the answer.

"Well let's see. I was born in the year 1848 and this is the year 1908."

The children to looked at their mother "Don't look at me, you know how to subtract."

The two eldest rushed to find the nearest quill and parchment and got to work, eager to get an answer to their burning question.

Aesop let out a sigh. He was hitting a milestone today. "Oh come on, dear. If it makes you feel any better you don't look a day over fifty."

Aesop chuckled and pulled his wife close. "Thank you. It's strange, though. I don't feel old. Merlin knows I feel better now than I did for most of my thirties. My life significantly improved in my forties"

“I wonder what happened then”

“I met this incredible woman, you see, got to know her, fell in love with her, somehow she decided she’d entrust her heart to me. Sometimes I still don’t understand what she saw in an old cripple but - don’t give me that look, that’s what I was at the time - in any case, loving her was what turned my life around for the better. And now we have these incredible-”

“SIXTY!”

Both parents chuckled. “Well done, you two.” “That’s… six times as old as I am!” “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that Magdala Dinah Sharp”

Later that day, the family of six found themselves at the beach, all four children playing in the water, both older siblings keeping an eye on the younger children whose swimwear had been enchanted to keep them afloat. Aesop and (F/N) sat on a blanket basking in the sunlight and taking in the scene.

The gentle rocking of waves filled the air around with a soft fizzing sound, broken by the cries of seagulls. Aesop could hear other birds singing from somewhere behind them in the trees. The sounds of nature combined with the giddy squeals and chattering of his children was like a symphony of absolute peace in Aesop's ears. He looked at his beloved, and saw her eyes reflecting the same utter contentment that was held in his own.

A thought crossed Aesop's mind and with a mischievous smile, he whispered in his wife’s ear “I’ll bet you a kiss I can beat you to the water”

She looked at him, her smile matching his own “Hmm I don't know… I wouldn't want to make you look bad on your birthday” she teased, but standing up as to indicate she accepted his challenge "We'll see about that…" the potions master teased back

The children watched with amusement as both their parents suddenly broke into a full blown sprint towards the sea when suddenly a faint “pop” was heard and Aesop disappeared, immediately appearing in the water, a few meters behind the children.

“You cheat!”

“We never said apparition wasn’t allowed” Aesop swam over to the children who were all giggling. (F/N) finished making her way towards the water before taking a few steps in. Once she was able to, she dove in and swam over to meet the rest of the family.

“I’ll be claiming that kiss now”

“You cheated. I think that kiss is mine to claim”

“As you wish”

Aesop made his way over to his wife, gently kissed her lips before moving around her and wrapping his arms around her waist, both of them watching the children resume their play, Eleazar and Maggie having apparently decided on a little swimming race of their own as the twins tried to keep up.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

“For today. For every day we get to spend together.”

A few days from then, Aesop and (F/N) would celebrate his birthday once more, sans children, in a private room at the Three Broomsticks surrounded by their close friends. Today, though, Aesop couldn’t imagine spending the day in better company.

Years had passed since the incident that took his partner’s life and nearly took his own. Years had passed since the simple task of making it through the day appeared monumental. Years had passed since he had made the decision that another circle around the sun wasn’t something to celebrate but rather something to feel guilt over. Today however, he felt nothing but gratitude for those who had pulled him out of the abyss where he once dwelled, who had patiently walked beside him, and who had lifted him higher than he ever thought possible, so high, in fact, he swore he could touch the stars.

Fin.

@aesopsharpmybeloved: I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to read this story, and I'd especially like to thank @tea-withjamandbread who wrote with me. Being able to read the wonderful words she used and build this story (that I frankly love and will re-read many times myself) has meant so much to me and brought me a lot of joy. To everything we'll yet create together! <3 -Tess

This story is also be available on AO3. We'll be very grateful for any feedback!

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