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mammomlette · 5 months

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OBEY ME YOUNGER BROTHERS AS SOULMATE TROPES!

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3(WIP rn)]

Includes: Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor, GN!Reader/MC

Warnings: Spoilers for lesson 16 in Belphies (not explicitly said but obvious foreshadowing for a twist), implied manipulation (Belphies) (not sure if that needs a warning but better safe than sorry)

Notes: I’m still quite new to fanfics and Tumblr, and honestly just writing in my free time in general so constructive criticism is defo encouraged!! Also I won’t lie to you, Satan did seem a tad ooc erm…

SATAN: writing/drawings on hands appear on eachother

* As soon as you turned 18, you noticed small phrases and notes appearing on your right hand

* It started off with small things like “page 562” or “British shorthair.” Just things to keep as a reminder or to be able to search it up later

* However, as time went by, the notes became a bit more… concerning

* Concerning book quotes from old literature, sometimes in other languages, and nefarious plans to prank someone called ‘Lucifer’

* Your soulmate plans to prank the devil himself. Haha. What a great idea.

* You brushed it off for a while, appreciating the occasional cat fact or chapter reminder and just ignoring the angry words about Lucifer.

* Eventually, you began to build up the courage to respond. Small things relating to things your soulmate wrote, like cat doodles (good or bad as your art skill may be) or going over the writing of the reminder when you notice it started to fade

* Not knowing if it was your place to write down your own notes or just not quite having that amount of bravery, you still did those little things to let your soulmate know that hey, you’re there and you’re always reading what they have to say.

* Satan thought he was hallucinating.

* Thousands of years spent just jotting things down to remind himself of things at a later date, frequently on his hand, and suddenly things started to change?

* He had wrote “British shorthair” on his palm in hopes of being able to look it up later, and a few minutes later he looks down to his palm to search it up and sees a… cat?? It’s really not clear. It’s round, with two points on the top of its head… yeah thats a cat.

* He’s become so obsessed he’s hallucinating badly drawn cats, which is probably a cause for concern, so naturally he confides in his brothers about this and is comforted that no he’s not hallucinating, however cats are just randomly appearing on his hand.

* They continue to appear, circles with two triangles, some looking better than others and some with more odd features likes birthday hats or weird outfits

* He finally decided to read up on what could be happening and was quickly met with the term ‘soulmates’

* He had heard of this a long time ago from one of his brothers while he was still young (for a demon) and brushed it off as a fairy tale. Why had his soulmate only started communicating with his just now?

* He moved on eventually and time passed, a new human being introduced to his home and his family.

* It took an embarrassingly long time to realise that his human was also his soulmate, it wasn’t until you were both just chilling in his room and you were doodling something next to some words on your arm that he noticed a cat appearing on his own arm.

* “Look! The cat thing is happening!” He shouted, a lot more emotion out into it that he would’ve liked due to the sheer shock

* You stopped what you were doing and look at his arm, the cat drawing having ceased its being drawn while you stared at the cat, face turning into shock and then seriousness. Because that is the cat that you just drew.

* “Satan.” You said, just staring into his eyes without any expression

* “Yes, MC?” He responded, worried at your monotony. His mouth then gaped open and you showed him your arm, cat half doodled next to the words “page 236, sticky notes needed”

* You both just made dead eye contact for a second before your eyes both began to flick back and forth and your lips slowly started to quiver

* Both of your sweet laughters filled the room, how ironic that such a common book trope would be what flew under Satan’s nose for so long.

ASMODEUS: soulmate telepathy

* Ever since you turned 18, you had been hearing a voice in your head.

* Not necessarily in a concerning way! In the way it happens when you and your soulmate have both turned 18 and can finally communicate.

* At first, you thought that you were hearing things. Things like “Ooo, this would be a great touch to my outfit! ♡” and “Can’t believe my bath wasn’t 3 hours long today…” flooding your mind. Since when were you SO picky about your clothes and hygiene, even when not in the process of dressing or washing? And since when were your baths 3 hours?

* Quickly though, you realised that this voice wasn’t your own. It was a melodic sounding voice that felt like honey and most definitely did not belong to you.

* You had heard from your family growing up and your friends recently that once you had become an adult you would be able to communicate with your soulmate through your thoughts, proof of the bond your souls shared, thoughts intertwining together.

* You found that whenever you were deep in thought and rambling to yourself you’d be met with a “hon, slow down” in your mind or that whenever you were trying to figure out an outfit your soulmate would chime in to offer their expert advice without hesitation

* No hesitation at all, because Asmo had waited his entire life for this.

* Thousands of years of life believing that he had no soulmate, destined to forever be a player

* So long spent reading and gushing over cute romance stories where soulmate meet and finding comfort in romcoms about that very topic, and here he was finally with his own soulmate in his mind

* The way you would thank him for his advice before his mind went quiet from your thoughts again until you later told him how well everything went and the way you would ramble internally to him without even realising you were connected to his mind made his heart flutter, even without your face your voice and soul were beautiful

* One day he had been summoned alongside his brothers to the student council room to welcome the new human exchange student. It was a hassle that could be spent doing something more productive like his skincare or extra time in the bath, but he was still just so excited he had to tell you how excited he was to meet the new human!

* “New human?” You thought, but had no response from your soulmate before you appeared inside of a council room in front of 5 attractive strange men.

* You panicked and were kind of in autopilot mode as a tall man in all red introduced you to your situation and a slightly-less-tall man in black started to introduce you to his brothers

* You still had small responses in your shock, and a certain demon recognised your voice.

* You were immediately snapped out of autopilot when you heard the voice of the second brother you were introduced to, an admitted handsome man with slightly-pink-tinted light brown hair and stunning orangeish eyes said “Oh come now. Really? You should be that you get to introduce such a sweet and charming little brother like me!” And you froze.

* You looked like a deer in headlights to lucifer who was trying to introduce you to a blonde demon, but to Asmo, you looked like the most beautiful creature to ever walk the three realms (asides from himself, naturally) and the only person worthy of him.

* Asmo saw beauty in everyone, but everyone else paled in comparison to your face in this moment and your voice every other previous time he had heard it.

* He looked at you with knowing eyes and your eyes finally softened from your shocked face, finally understanding what he meant earlier by “new human”

* It would take time for you to get used to being in a new world with a demon as your soulmate, it would take time for him to get used to loving someone more intimately than as lust, but you both had eachother and the bond that ties your minds together and that’s all you needed.

BEELZEBUB: you share (some of) your soulmate’s pain

* It was growing unbearable.

* The slight yet constant ache in your stomach, a pit that was never quite full.

* For years you mistook it for your own hunger, not sure if you should be eating more or not

* It was always there, always something that disctracted you whenever you were left alone in silence or trying to sleep at night, always waiting for you to finish a meal just to make you feel that familiar ache again.

* It was just insufferable.

* It wasn’t just the hunger, though. There would be times where your muscles would ache like you had been working out without a proper cool down or your arms felt like they had bruised from defending or blocking against something

* You inquired with your friends about this and were just told that it would be your soulmate. You shared pain with your soulmate, and your soulmate always seemed in pain

* It wasn’t a pain that came from attacks or falling, just a pit that always felt so empty it hurt but could never be filled.

* Was your soulmate starving to death? You wished there was a way to help them, to soothe the pain, but without knowing who they are there was no way to fix it.

* As of present, you had been sent into the devildom a few weeks ago and had began to slowly feel adjusted to the devildom and your roommates and you had grown fond of one in particular: Beelzebub, the avatar of gluttony.

* You sympathised with him and his constant hunger since you yourself always felt a small bit of this hunger, even if you’d learnt by now that it wasn’t yours to fix

* So naturally, you hung a round him more

* You spent time with him whenever you could just because you wanted to, accompanying him to the gym or treating him to Hell’s Kitchen or even just sitting with him when he was lonely and missing his brother who had gone to the human world

* And it felt like every time you gave him the food you were craving so much, that pit in your stomach was filled just a bit

* Always there, never going away, but it felt just that bit more bearable and ignorable for a short while

* Who knew you were such an empath?

* Of course it crossed your mind of that Beel could be your soulmate, but what are the chances? You dismissed the thought whenever it appeared, not wanting to get your hopes up

* However, your hopes were validated one night in the kitchen with Beel.

* You were preparing him a small snack, just cutting up some devildom-style bread for him when you accidentally put your finger down at the wrong time in the wrong place and cut it

* You hissed at the pain, putting down the knife to look at your finger and you thought you heard Beel grunt.

* “MC, are you okay?” He inquired, approaching you to look at your finger while slightly cradling his own for some reason

* “Uh, yeah, I just need a plaster or something, would you mind..?” “Yeah, of course.” He continued to clutch his finger while reaching for the cabinet, letting go for a second to open it and grab you a plaster

* “Are you okay? You’re holding your finger too.” You were slightly worried by his mannerisms even though you didn’t see a cut on his fingers.

* “Yeah, my finger just hurt all of a sudden. It’s fine though. Here, I’ll put the plaster on for you.”

* You fell into comfortable silence as he opened the plaster and began pressing in down, but he pressed down a bit too hard which hurt you, causing both of you to hiss.

* “Seriously Beel, are you okay?” He nodded. “Yeah, it’s just like whenever you get hurt my finger hurts too.”

* Lightbulb. You realised finally that those slight considerations were valid and the connection you felt with Beel was real. The hunger you felt wasn’t yours and the reason it was numbed when you gave him food is because it was his.

* He seemed to have realised this too, because he paused and looked at you, slowly smiling.

* “MC, I just realised something. I think that-“ you cut him off with a kiss, smiling now too.

BELPHEGOR: you have a countdown until your soulmate’s death

* Surely there was an error in the system.

* Call you crazy but you didn’t quite think that 378,691,205,018 seconds is applicable to the human life span.

* You had come to the conclusion that your soulmate was either non-existent and the universe was fucking with you or they were some kind of non human entity and obviously both of these answers were stupid but at least the former was possible.

* You’d grown accepting overtime that you didn’t have a soulmate unlike how most of your friends did and that you’d never have that sort of unconditional love

* Not having a soulmate wasn’t unheard of, just uncommon.

* And you got the short end of the stick. That’s all there was to it.

* UNTIL you got randomly abducted one day into literal hell where pretty much all beings there loved for thousands of years.

* ‘Maybe I have a chance now?’ You crossed the thought out from your mind. First of all, these were demons and most of them had made attempts on your life at some point or another, and secondly almost all of them either a) didn’t have a timer, which meant no soulmate, b) had an insanely high timer that you’d never be able to reach or c) had already found their soulmate

* You sighed to yourself and began to lose hope again, walking up the stairs to the attic

* A short while ago, you had found a human locked in the attic, who had asked you to help him. You clicked, something in that moment just felt like it had been put in place like the final puzzle piece so you trusted him without really knowing why

* But you had even more recently found out from his brother that he was bulshitting you and that he was probably the demon Belphegor, so now you just wanted to figure out what was going on

* You continued to march up the stairs and finally arrived at the attic to confront him or at least question him

* “Are you Belphegor?” You cut to the chase not wanting to bother with any more of his lies.

* He was silent for a second before grinning, devilish look that you’d expect from the decent ruler or the underworld gleaming in his eyes as he said “Aww, so you’ve already figured me out, have you? Well, you’re no fun at all.”

* You glared, and tried to decide whether declaring he was a liar or asking why he was a liar would be a better idea

* But he spoke up again before you could decide.

* “That timer on your neck, what does it say?”

* You paused, not knowing the exact number. “Um, like, there’s hundred billion seconds-ish? Why?”

* “Because I’m a demon. I’m going to live long enough to fulfil that. Look at my timer, here. It has 13,140,014 seconds. No demon would live that short.”

* “And is thirteen million a lot of time?”

* “About a human lifespan, bit under.”

* You hummed. It made sense to you looking at it at the moment, though you could’ve sworn it was a little bit under your guess, you trusted him.

* Why? He lied to you about being a human, so why do you trust him?

* Because he’s your soulmate. There’s no doubt in your mind. The click, the need to trust him, even seeing him in your dreams. It was right.

* So you believed him, and didn’t give the thirteen million seconds much question. You were going to save him, save your soulmate.

* Because thirteen million seems like a long time, and I guess it was long enough for you to save him. Just not enough to do much more.

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 5 months

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Wounds Of The Past

A week following his and his young lover's little getaway in pursuit of tenderness, Aesop Sharp finds the pain in his leg, the one that he'd been used to for more than ten years now, lessening...

I would be lost without my dear partner in crime co-author and consultant @tea-withjamandbread, as well as Maarty and her unwavering support ❤

Wounds Of The Past (14.3k)

tw: teacher-student relationship, age gap (reader is an adult), sexual themes (mentioned and alluded to), tooth-rotting fluff

It began in a flurry of shards and bright green liquid staining the floor of his classroom.

Aesop Sharp stared at the mess he made morosely - what a waste of a perfectly good phial of Wiggenweld potion. With a small huff, he waved his wand in the air lazily, and both the broken bottle and its previous contents vanished into thin air.

It was a day like any other for the teacher. Well, a day like any other lately, that is. A mere year ago, his life was drastically different. Alright, maybe not so drastically - just like the previous years, Aesop taught potions at Hogwarts, he regularly got exasperated by the lack of quick wit and good judgement from his many students as well as his employer, he praised rather sporadically, but always truthfully and fairly, he spent time with his friends and colleagues, stayed up long into the night grading essays and pop quizzes, and brewed medical remedies for the Hospital wing. Which is what he was doing right now as well, actually.

And yet, there was one big change, and in Aesop’s eyes (but what’s more, in his heart), the change was so large and significant, the teacher felt like his entire life on this Earth was suddenly all new and exciting, and as spectacular as it was when he was a fresh adult with an idiotic amount of courage and all the doors wide open and inviting.

His heart burned with love.

That’s what it felt like at least.

A year ago, he was just beginning to feel the effects of one very special young Ravenclaw’s presence around him, and after many many months, during which Aesop’s heart bled because he knew that she’d never return the feelings he held for her, it turned out he was very wrong. Christmas Eve of 1892 was the first evening they spent not only in one another’s company, but also each other’s arms, lips hungrily chasing their counterparts for yet another, and another, and another scorching kiss.

The following few months only further proved that this little clandestine romance of theirs was no silly infatuation or some mere temporary absence of sense and reason. Each kiss, each ardent embrace, each and every night spent talking in hushed tones within the comfort of one another’s warmth and the security of their arms, all of it made Aesop feel a sense of belonging he hadn’t experienced in decades. So yes, his heart did indeed burn with love, and it burned with the ferocity of the Fiendfyre spell, making him feel so warm and alive, he still occasionally worried about waking up one morning to find it had all been just one big dream.

And the previous weekend? Well… Aesop wasn’t able to keep a sly little smile off his face when he remembered the weekend… It had been nearly embarrassingly long since he was able to make love to a woman like he made love to his pretty young Ravenclaw. The several one-night sexual encounters he had a few years ago weren’t exactly satisfactory for Aesop in this regard. Of course, he was ever the perfect gentleman and both he and his partner, whatever any of their names was, experienced the pleasure and its sweet culmination during their short encounter. However, this pleasure was always short lived, and Aesop soon found emptiness and coldness replacing the previous passion. While his younger self had no problem changing women with the frequency with which he changed his socks, and grin while doing so, it would appear his current self was no longer interested in empty promises said in the heat of the moment, soon to be replaced by awkward goodbyes and lonely journeys back home. And so he stopped seeking out the comforts and joys of a woman’s arms. Whenever the appetite came, the potions master would simply chase it away with a cold shower, or indulge in the familiar, if lonely, comfort of his hand - no need to drag some poor woman into it and risk accidentally hurting her feelings, he thought.

To be honest, Aesop was sure that this was just how he’ll spend the rest of his life. Pointlessly chasing after the cure for his leg, as well as after students he often presumed positively suicidal, instead of doing the thing his friends and mother implored him to do so very often; Fall in love, be happy. Two goals he presumed to be out of his reach entirely.

But now he was both. And to those who knew him closely, it was, of course, absolutely obvious. And while a part of Aesop was frankly cringing at how transparent the former rather brilliant Auror had become in his joy, the majority of him was so high on this almost new feeling that he often couldn’t find it within himself to care.

How could he, when the memories of the weekend spent with his young sweetheart were this fresh in his memory?

Hands carefully exploring the other’s heated body, mapping out each new uncovered inch as if it was a wonderful new land, full of various beauties and intricacies, freckles and beauty marks, scars, proofs of a life lived, lips eagerly tasting the other’s skin, gliding in tantalising and hypnotising patterns, ones that left shivers and passion in their wake. Two bodies moving against each other, two hearts beating the same frenzied rhythm, oxygen intimately shared, and moans of pleasure cutting through the silence of the room, only ever occasionally replaced by urgent words of love and desire and accompanied by the deliciously filthy sounds of their union.

Aesop decided that it was the best weekend he had in years. Then again, this was something of his young lover’s habit; making him feel the happiest he’s been in years, that is.

Just the thought of her was able to stop him from continuing to stare at the floor where just short moments prior lay the spilled potion and broken glass. And Aesop suddenly remembered just how he managed to accidentally break the phial.

Having brewed and bottled another large batch of Wiggenweld potion for the hospital wing (which was always in high demand, as students seemed to be positively intent on maiming themselves on their brooms during Quidditch… or during Crossed Wands duels. Or during a simple potions lesson on Germinating potion turned utter catastrophe because someone was too dull to read that they were supposed to add knotgrass dew after they added the dried salamander skins rather than before... Or during a perfectly ordinary dinner at the Great Hall….), he automatically took a few phials in order to put them into his magically enlarged breast pocket.

It was a simple muscle memory for him - he brewed, he took a few doses for his leg, he had the rest delivered, and by the time he brewed again, he only had one or two phials left on his person, the new potions sliding into the pocket with ease.

Not today.

The first phial did indeed slip in without a problem. The second one, however, made a soft glass clanking noise when he tried to store it away, making him aware his pocket, though much bigger on the inside, had become full. Aesop let go of it before he fully realised it though, and the small bottle slid down his chest and fell to the floor. A slightly cathartic sound of glass breaking penetrated the silence of the dungeons and that was that…

Aesop automatically leaned against the potions station he was just using (the one his sweetheart used too - it was the newest one in the castle, after all, and the most reliable one), the clogs in his head turning. Pushing his hand inside his breast pocket once more, he began pulling out the Wiggenwed potions there. Six, seven, eight! How in Merlin’s name did he have eight potions in his pocket after… goodness, when was it he last refilled it? It surely couldn’t have been after he returned to his rooms on the Sunday a week ago, could it?

He had returned with his sweetheart in tow, sneaking by the ghosts roaming the castle while its living inhabitants feasted on their supper at the Great Hall, and managed to restrain himself from marking the official end to their little getaway before inadvertently having to return to their day-to-day lives at Hogwarts, unsure of how much time they’ll be allowed to spend together, until he made sure the stash of potions he had on his person was refilled for the following week.

Aesop shook his head. The idea seemed implausible. He was well aware that he had consumed more than a single vial of Wiggenweld potion in the last week; after all, he kept a supply in the chest at the foot of his bed and habitually took doses in his office. Yet, the thought lingered: had there ever been a time when he used only one of the phials he actively carried with him?

Upon further reflection, he realised that despite his deep scepticism, there was irrefutable evidence that he had consumed less of the potion this week - by at least a third of his usual consumption. And it did make sense, in a way. It had been a good week, on no day did his leg act up and bind him to a seating position because of painful cramps restricting him from standing up, which usually happened every other week.

It was… unthinkable. New and a little unnerving. Despite being all alone in the large classroom, Aesop scoffed - for more than a decade, the thing he wanted the most in the world was for his leg to stop hurting, and now… Well, it was hurting still, but instead of the sharp pain that shot from his knee all the way into his hip, genuinely feeling like the bloody curse was burning into his femur and hip bone, there was this sort of strange dull ache that was more annoying than anything else. Almost like the pain one gets after they’ve been sitting in a strange position for an extended period of time, like the sort of pain one could simply shake off…

Of course, Aesop wasn’t as silly as to attempt to shake his leg, in fear that the movement could potentially bring the worse pain back instead of relieving this more bearable one. Still, his curiosity was more than peaked, and after he made sure a couple of house elves would come to collect the few crates of Wiggenweld potion he brewed, he retired into his chambers.

He occasionally delivered the potions himself - after all, the Hospital wing was very close to his rooms. This fact was especially convenient during his worst days, as Norreen didn’t have to run through half the castle to administer some stronger potions to him. Aesop preferred to leave those in her care, as he couldn't trust himself to resist the stronger, more addictive potions instead of the harmless Wiggenweld. However, these episodes of his happened very, very rarely these days, luckily.

No, Aesop truly didn’t have the time to hand-deliver the potions himself and chat up Noreen for a bit right now, he needed to look at the notes he had on the experimental pain relieving potion he took during his and his sweetheart’s outing. A part of him knew that he went over those notes a hundred times while he was brewing, and then a hundred more before he tested the first batch on himself. A part of him knew there was no way the potion could be the thing relieving his pain even now, a week after ingestion. It simply wasn’t possible - the first batch he brewed lasted for several hours, but he could very much feel his blasted leg again the next day… Then, during the weekend, he did think it strange it was working even after he woke up, but he had hardly the time to concern himself with his research when he had a very beautiful young woman to enjoy the privacy with.

Right now though… right now he needed to know. He needed to find the answer. So that he could repeat whatever it was he did that made his leg get better.

And for the first time, he realised that he no longer wanted to do so for himself - he had lived with that pain for a decade, and, in a way, he very nearly made peace with it. Such could be seen when one took a look at his journals - the past few years, he didn’t go through them nearly as quickly as he used to in the beginning.

But now… Now the very idea that he could be healthy again, that he’d be able to walk by his beloved’s side, unbothered by an undignified limp, standing tall and proud like he once did, made his heart thump loudly in his chest… If his leg stopped hurting, he’d at least feel a little more deserving of her love. Less guilty about taking the absolutely incredible creature his Ravenclaw was for himself, and himself only…

The professor unlocked the door of his chambers and stepped inside, the comfort of the space instantly washing over him. These days he was quite tidier than he had been a couple of years ago, and he let the house elves clean his rooms regularly - his shelves, as it turned out, were much more organised and able to contain more things when there weren’t empty liquor bottles haphazardly hidden away in them. Aesop still indulged in a glass or two every now and then, but he made sure not to overindulge too much, and got rid of the empty bottles promptly. After all, he didn’t want the young woman to think she was seeing some drunken bum.

He made quick work of finding his latest notebook even though he had quite a few of them now. Each and every single one was filled from cover to cover, each experiment he conducted well documented, the script with the hypothesis starting off neat and organised, and ending with scrawly, short notes, as he was getting more and more frustrated he wasn’t getting the desired results. The conclusion was once more written neatly, simply explaining that yet another cure idea became an absolute flop.

However, some of them ended on a hopeful note - in his efforts to discover a cure, Aesop accidentally found a different manner in which the potions could be used. Experimental cure #87 turned out to be quite a brilliant cure for sunstroke, and #114 he brewed regularly, as it helped with Bai’s hay fever every summer. And, of course, then there were the experimental brews that weren’t a cure for his leg, but rather little ideas to at the very least help with the pain somewhat. There was Experimental pain relief potion #12, which he’d occasionally add into his bath, as it helped not only with the pain in his leg, but also in his entire body - very useful after a long evening spent bent over ingredients he was preparing. Then herbal ointment #4, which warmed his leg up considerably, as well as made the scar upon his skin itself less sensitive to touch. Aesop found it curious that the scar on his cheek never really hurt after the skin healed, but he supposed that it was because his leg got the full force of the curse, and his cheek was later struck from recoil. And, of course, there was that one brew that started out as a pain relieving potion, and accidentally ended up being a herbal liquor. Oh well, it worked quite nicely as an aperitivo if nothing else, Aesop shrugged.

The potions master found one of the last pages and peered upon the page. Experimental cure #164 was scratched out and Experimental pain relief potion #17 was written above it instead. In his own script he read the conclusion: ‘Despite its effect being strong enough to remove pain nearly completely for 4 hours, 37 minutes and 21 seconds, it began lessening rather rapidly afterwards. Return to original state occurred in circa 5 hours and 13 minutes following initial ingestion. Not ideal - rare ingredients, prolonged brewing time… However, works for intended purposes.’

It was a shortcoming on his part. Only doing one test, that is. That he could admit. Now he was on unfamiliar ground, and there was no clear way for him to be able to test the brew on another subject, to at the very least be able to say with certainty that repeated administration did indeed prolong the effects of the potion. Blast it.

Well, he could at least examine the area to see if there were any signs of the potion's effects on his body. And so, Aesop Sharp walked over to the armchair next to his bed, took a seat, and used his wand to turn on the lamp standing beside it. Placing his wand upon the armrest, he began to unfasten his left boot, soon letting the heavy footwear slide from his leg and land on the floor with a thud.

His hands worked methodically, relying on muscle memory completely. He undid the straps of his suspenders from his trousers before unbuttoning them and pushing them down, sliding them just enough to be able to pull his left leg free. His pants were given similar treatment soon, and Aesop grit his teeth momentarily as the soft cotton slid down the sensitive tissue of his scar there. Aesop was glad to have invested into a high quality lock on his chambers, as he most likely looked just as ridiculous as he felt whenever he was examining his leg for any sort of change like he was doing now - literally half naked, the air of his chambers chilling the toes on his bare left foot, not to mention his family jewels on full display while his right leg was still half covered and booted. Best have no uninvited guests while he was this vulnerable.

He moved with his armchair slightly closer to the bed to be able to brace his left foot upon the mattress and examine his bad leg properly. There was some sort of foggy pale patch upon his scarred thigh, and at first the professor thought it was just some silly trick of the lighting until he turned his leg a bit to get rid of the effect and… nothing happened. The patch remained there. Upon closer inspection, it truly was some sort of strange skin discoloration, but it couldn’t have been something normal, like perhaps a pale patch left from a failed tan - because where on earth would he be tanning in early April? And besides, the pattern was… the pattern was very peculiar indeed. Could it have been the potion’s effect? Surely not, he saw nothing of this sort after the first ingestion, and that was a week before he and his beloved left for their little herb picking excursion.

Besides that, when she undressed him and the two of them explored one another for the first time, he saw no such mark on his leg. The poor limb was like it’s always been, the scar red and angry, its lower part only just becoming less visible because of the thicker hair on his shins. Surely he would’ve noticed! And the second day, too, when he watched her head move between his legs, her mouth so sinfully and deliciously descending upon… Alright, now may not be the most opportune time to dwell on such thoughts, Aesop decided when he felt himself twitch slightly.

Had there been anything on his leg? Aesop couldn’t remember. To be fair, he had way more pressing matters on hand back then, and the lighting conditions weren’t exactly optimal for any sort of medical examination, the sun having nearly descended below the horizon, leaving an ethereal semi-darkness of pink dusk in its wake.

Now however, he could see it quite clearly. Well, clearly… The pattern’s borders were faint, bleeding into his regular skin colour, and the discoloration had been the most obvious across the scar itself. The scar had still been angry red in many places, along its edges in particular, but where the pale patch was, it was almost like… the scar was paler as well? He used the tip of his finger to prod at the tissue gently, and, most surprisingly, found that it didn’t… Well, it didn’t really feel like anything, actually. His finger then slipped along the scar, over to a place that was much redder, and he hissed upon the stinging pain that followed. How strange...

It seemed the pale pattern was sort of wrapping around the scar somewhat, faint, but very much there, from the top of his injury over at his hip bone, all the way to below the knee. When the potions master squinted his eyes, he was able to tell the pattern apart from the rest of his leg easier. Hm… Aesop racked through his brain - the pattern was… oddly familiar… When had he seen it before? It surely wasn’t a symbol he’d seen among the Ancient runes textbooks, and it was not an alchemy symbol either.

It was sort of like a swirl, like a part of a vortex. Where in Merlin’s name had he seen it��

Aesop closed his eyes.

Coldness seeping into his clothes, making him feel like it was infused into his very bones. The damp air of the dungeons. Suddenly, ethereal blue glow. A large unfamiliar chamber, with what looked like the reflection of the entire Hogwarts region in dark water. Four large portrait frames. A door with a glowing swirl upon it…

His eyes snapped open again.

No way.

Aesop nearly sprung to his feet, and very nearly tumbled to the ground right away, tripping over his own boot and trousers. He stumbled back over to his desk, threw open one of the drawers, and pillaged inside it until he found that one journal he was looking for, uncaring whether the other contents of the drawer flew left or right. For all he cared at that moment, they could very much just land inside the fireplace and he wouldn’t have cared. Less than a minute later, he was sitting back down, furiously flipping through the pages. Where is it, where is it?!

There!

A few of the pages within the notebook were drastically different from the others. Mainly because they didn’t contain any of his experiments or refined recipes, but rather his thoughts following one positively insane night that took place more than two years ago now… It was not one’s typical journal entry, there was no composition, some sentences weren’t finished, some didn’t even make sense to him anymore - goes to show how disturbed Aesop had been following the night. And who could blame him? Hogwarts was supposed to be one of the safest places in the Wizarding world, the safest place in Britain, and yet, on that horrible night, the fate of the world as they knew it was at stake, and one of Aesop’s colleagues had lost his life…

The wizarding world was full of old wives’ tales of various levels of improbability and insanity. And that night Aesop found himself in the middle of one of them.

Ancient magic, only visible and accessible to a very few, nowadays nearly fabled, individuals. Yet another Hogwarts secret nobody had known about in centuries, and talk of sources of power so immense, they could very much destroy not only the school itself, but possibly the entire country or more, if they were to fall into the wrong hands. And Aesop put himself right into the middle of it the second he responded to Matilda Weasley’s urgent Floo call for aid, blast his lame leg.

The teacher observed the quick sketches and notes he scratched into the pages of his journal with his quill following the night, wanting to get his thoughts onto the paper in effort to perhaps understand them better. Among them was the spiral staircase leading down, which he had never seen before in his life, despite having been this far into the dungeons several times. Nobody really had a reason to roam there much, not even the students attending both Muggle studies and Alchemy classes nearby, as there was nothing of interest, just a few empty barrels and crates… Another one depicted a grand circular room, adorned with intricate details, ones that many a pure-blood family manor could be sorely envious of.

And then - open double doors holding the solemn darkness of caverns within, despite their beautiful appearance. While what Aesop found interesting those two years back was the cave system and the secrets that lurked behind those doors, right now he was more interested in the door itself, as it bore a very interesting symbol on it - the very same one that seemed to have been burned into the skin of his leg.

Aesop let the journal fall from his hands and slide from his right leg down to the floor, leaning back against the cushions of his armchair.

Fucking hell…

He had some sort of ancient magic attached to his leg, to his scar. Now that he knew what it was, one wouldn’t need his intellect to know just when it got there - after all, the memory of his and his sweetheart’s bodies trembling against one another with their first shared climax was very much fresh in his memory, and he adored to come back to it again, and again, and again. Another one of his shortcomings; he didn’t question the powerful surge of the Ravenclaw’s ancient magic wrapping around their very forms that first night, even after it turned out to be the only time it happened. He didn’t question what it might’ve done to him, or to her… Aesop was one lucky bastard that the magic hadn’t been destructive towards either of them… Could it have been? He knew the young woman used her powers during combat, actually even got to see her do so, which left him both impressed and slightly intimidated, but the magic that night, the feelings it filled his chest with… That was far from any sort of violent or combatant magic…

Still, he shouldn’t have perhaps figuratively shrugged his shoulders about it like he did. Now it was quite obvious that there was indeed some sort of effect, and, unlike with potions and spells, where most effects can be traced back to the ingredients in potions’ case, and to pronunciation and hand movements when it came to spells, Aesop very much doubted there was anything they could use to predict the future of this one. Would it get weaker as time passed? Or would it get stronger instead? It could, theoretically, get stronger - after all, Aesop only noticed it today, and was nearly certain it wasn’t there a few days ago… At least not this visible…

The potions master had no idea how it worked, and his chances to find out were minimal at best. His knowledge about ancient magic went only as far as Fig’s notes and his sweetheart’s own knowledge… which honestly wasn’t quite as much as both of them would’ve liked. The so called ‘Keepers’ were as enigmatic as ever, it was almost as if, without the threat of immediate danger, they lost most of their interest in teaching the young woman anymore. She did go to meet them occasionally, but has described the four portraits as being quite slow at lecturing her more on the subject of ancient magic. Like they were afraid the young woman might not use this knowledge for good…

All in all, somehow he doubted the Keepers would be able to find an answer to the question ‘Is it possible to heal something with ancient magic while having sex?’. Still, Aesop chuckled darkly, it’d be fun to see if portraits could faint.

The professor sighed then. He felt a little lost - on one hand, he was sort of ecstatic - his leg had been hurting less, and now that he was sitting down, he very nearly didn’t feel it at all. On the other hand, he… Well, he was rather afraid to allow himself to hope again. Each and every time he did, the disappointment that followed hurt all the more.

He figured he should tell the young woman too. She had a right to know, considering it was her magic that managed to do something he hadn’t in a decade - long lasting effects. A week wasn’t a lot of time, yes, but it was still much longer than anything else he managed to brew throughout the years…

He needed to speak to her, he needed her to help him make heads or tails of the situation. He could go and find Diana to the Owlery, send a message… but that was entirely too slow. That is, he was too slow, the greater sooty owl herself was faster than lightning. Well, there was only one more way to get the young woman to come to him swiftly… Aesop used his wand to summon one of the heavy blankets he kept in his chambers, and draped it over himself in a way that would make it seem he was merely reclining in his armchair, wrapped up to fight the chill of early spring. When he deemed himself covered sufficiently, and of course after hiding his discarded boot underneath the blanket, he summoned a house elf.

“Please, find (F/N) (L/N), a seventh-year Ravenclaw. Send her to me - tell her it’s urgent that she comes, as there is a… an inconsistency in her NEWT essay…”

With a pop, the elf disapparated and Aesop was once again left alone in his chambers. He gazed into the flames in his hearth thoughtfully. This year truly is turning out to be drastically different from the previous ones, isn’t it… It was not long at all before he heard knocking upon his door. His sweetheart let herself in following his invitation, and immediately came to find him in his bedchamber.

His brain gave out momentarily and his thoughts ceased suddenly when she came into his field of view, looking so casually gorgeous in her crisp white shirt, simple striped tie, and her calf-length black skirt.

She leaned against the doorframe with a sparkle in her eye, one that made Aesop’s heart throb. “An inconsistency in my essay, you say?” she purred, a smile spreading upon her face, before she began to walk towards him slowly, her hips swaying most invitingly. “I-...” Aesop forgot to speak for a minute, completely mesmerised by her movements. “Actually,” he continued, mouth drier than it was a moment ago, “while I adore the way you’re looking at me right now, it’s not the reason I called you here…”

And with that he pulled the blanket up partially, revealing his bare left leg. “Aesop, you’re not exactly helping in making me think you didn’t invite me here for some tender fun…” she chuckled quietly, and the potions master couldn’t help but feel a little smile forming on his lips as well. However, he only raised his maimed leg upon the bed like he’d done before: “Please come take a look at this…” Cocking her head to the side confusedly, the Ravenclaw walked nearer, soon enough bending onto one knee to look at what he was referring to.

“What is it? Has it worsened?” she asked, sounding concerned. “The other way around actually,” Aesop replied quietly, “take a proper look at the skin colour around it - what do you see?” The girl carefully placed her hand on an unscarred part of his thigh and leaned in closer, furrowing her brows.

Then suddenly, as if a switch was flicked, her eyes widened and mouth dropped open in a way Aesop would’ve almost described as comical in a different situation.

“I-... That’s-... How?!” she stammered, observing the scar and the pale pattern upon it.

“I don’t know,” Aesop replied truthfully, “I only noticed it today.”

Then, however, he saw an expression appear on the girl’s face, one that he didn’t expect.

Terror.

“Oh no… no, no, no, no, no…” She began shaking her head, one of her hands coming to cover her mouth, and were those tears gathering in her eyes? “What, what is it, dear?” Aesop asked, his own panic rising. “This is bad, oh Merlin…” she only stammered on, having now gotten up and begun backing away somewhat.

“Darling, please,” The professor quickly grabbed at her wrist, gently but firmly, and started pulling her back towards him. She was breathing hard and looking terribly, terribly panicked when he managed to sit her down upon his healthy leg and wrapped his arms around her. Using one hand, he pressed her face against his neck, and used the other to draw deep circles into her back, making gentle shushing noises. He could feel the dampness of her tears on his collar: “Calm yourself my sweet. Tell me what’s wrong, please.”

“Oh, Aesop…” she whimpered miserably, “I’m so, so sorry…” Aesop shushed her some more: “What are you apologising for? It doesn’t hurt, if that’s what’s gotten you worried. In fact, the pain has lessened considerably.” “That’s the thing, Aesop…” she lifted her head up to look at him: “I… before me, there was another woman, one who had my powers…I may have said something here and there about her before...” The professor listened carefully, not rushing her in her speech, merely looking into her eyes and continuing to stroke her back, “Um… Ever since she began school in her fifth year, like me, what she wanted the most was to rid her father of pain from losing his son - her brother… And after years, she was successful in her efforts. She pulled the pain right out of him. A-and for a while, it seemed to be all good… But then one day her colleague went to find her at her family home, and she wasn’t there… But her father was… He was barren of all emotion. Not just of pain, he didn’t have anything in him left! He became a body with no soul!”

Aesop gulped, much too loudly, feeling his own heart speeding up. Bloody hell…

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down, as both of them panicking would help absolutely nothing, he forced himself to think about her words while once more closing his arms around her tight. Right…

“Uh… You said that she was only successful after years, didn’t you?” Aesop asked, his voice quiet and as soothing as possible. He felt the woman in his arms nod her head against his shoulders. “Would you mind telling me how you know that?” His sweetheart took several deep breaths before raising her head again, not meeting his eyes this time: “I found a series of journal entries. This woman, Isidora Morganach, was helping heal people from the plague alongside a few other wizards and muggle doctors alike, but… But while she helped heal the people of their physical illness, she wasn’t able to relieve them of their pain of losing loved ones to the Black death… And so she, I don’t know, she made this spell that extracted pain from people… She’d use her wand, hold it to someone’s chest and pull out what looked like this dark wispy cluster. She’d proceed to breathe it in, and later store it away into containers made of goblin silver… The biggest one being-” “The Final repository.” “Yes.”

“Wait a minute, though-” Aesop said, feeling slightly less panicked. “If she managed to fill that giant thing to the brim with pain-”

“She extracted pain from others. From Hogwarts students, from anyone she could…”

“Then not all of them must’ve turned into soulless beings.”

“I-... What?” Her eyes, red from crying softly, finally met his own. “You heard,” Aesop spoke, feeling more confident, “that thing… it’s the most powerful thing I’ve ever seen, filled to the brim with magic… and it wasn’t even the only one, you said Ranrok got his power from below the Rookwood castle. She must’ve really taken the pain of dozens, perhaps even hundreds - and if each and every one of them subsequently lost all emotion because of it, well, it would have been noticed! It would have been written down. That’s not something people could ignore! Did you… Do you know of anyone else who had their pain extracted by her?” The young woman in his arms thought for a moment before her eyes lit up: “Professor Fitzgerald!”

“Who?”

“She was the Headmistress here when Isidora was a student and later a teacher, as well as one of the Keepers - Isidora took her pain as well!”

“And did she lose all emotion?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. Her memories only showed the immediate aftermath… I-... I have to ask!” the Ravenclaw was just about to rush away from him, no doubt into the direction of the Map chamber, but Aesop held on tight: “Just wait for a minute, dear. You also mentioned that you actually saw the process too. From, uh, from what I remember, there never came a point during which you pointed your wand at me, and extracted something from within me, did it?”

She thought for a moment: “No… No, there really was no moment like that… Can I… Can I take a look at your leg again?” With a small smile, Aesop finally allowed her to stand up and leave his embrace. She kneeled in front of him again and looked at his leg carefully. “This is… it’s also different,” she murmured as if more to herself than to him, “it’s not the dark wispy thing… and it’s not the red glow I saw Ranrok and his loyalists give off… But there is a glow…” Aesop’s eyebrows furrowed. A glow? He didn’t see any glow… Was she just talking about the fact the pattern was lighter than the rest of his skin, or…?

“I think it’s the blue one, I can’t… I can’t really see it clearly…” she kept on talking, even quieter than before. “Darling, I cannot see any glow…” he replied, still trying to see what she was talking about. “I… Well, you wouldn’t. I think only I can see it. Professor Fig couldn’t see it either…”

“Ah, right. However, you’re saying that it doesn’t look like the magic that this Isidora of yours was wielding when she extracted pain from people, right?”

“Right.” “So there is a chance I won’t be losing my emotions.”

“I… I hope so…”

“And so do I. Why don’t you, uh, why don’t you check up with the former Headmistress - perhaps her portrait will be able to tell you more,” Aesop said finally. His heart had calmed down somewhat, though his head was still reeling a little. His beloved nodded her head frantically. But then she looked at him: “You said it hurt less now, didn’t you?”

“It indeed does,” he confirmed, carefully touching the scarred skin. The Ravenclaw bit into her lip: “Um, we can trust Nurse Blainey, right? I mean, she’s the one who fixed me up after what… what happened in those caverns. Maybe you should, you know, show it to her?”

“Are you sure that’s not a waste of time? You just said you’re the only one who can see the glow.”

“It’s not that much about the glow, Aesop - she’ll be able to give you a diagnosis, or something, anything… We’re in a position where we could use all the information we can get…”

She had a fair point, Aesop thought. But such was the way of Ravenclaws, always believing that knowledge is key. Frankly, he was slightly through with healers running diagnostics on him only to put on that oh so compassionate face and tell him that they can’t do anything for him… But then again, could it be different now? He did trust Noreen to remain discreet at the very least - however, he also didn’t at all doubt that she’ll probe at him until she got as much information about this new… progress… And would she keep her discretion after he told her? Of course, his and the young woman’s relationship wasn’t forbidden, but still…

“Trust me, I too am cringing at the very thought of going to ask the former Headmistress about this, as she’s no doubt going to be very inquisitive… I may actually attempt to ask the other’s to leave, if it comes down to me actually talking about what happened - because I know both you and I know that this happened during… You know… The light vines and all… I think I’m able to talk to her about it, but I think I would die in embarrassment were I to speak to Rackham and Rookwood about such matters… Actually, all three of us would, in most likelihood.” “What about the fourth one?”

“I don’t know - I have a feeling he’ll insist on staying, though I wish he hadn’t.. To, I don’t know, make sure I wasn’t about to go down the same path as Isidora or something…”

Aesop shook his head. As if the young woman before him hadn’t proved her heart was nothing but pure… She proved it, in his own opinion, enough for several lifetimes. He knew of Isidora Morganach’s untimely but unavoidable death at the hands of one of the Keepers, and he knew with all of his heart that his beloved was nothing like this woman, there was not a single power-hungry hair on her head.

“Run along - the sooner we’re done with these no doubt uncomfortable tasks we’ve got to attend to now, the sooner we’ll hopefully be able to breathe a sigh of relief… And hopefully have a strong cup of good tea. And perhaps a splash of Firewhisky. And biscuits.” Aesop was happy to hear the young woman snort silently. She raised herself up and looked at him: “I… um, I’ll see you at the Hospital wing then?” He gave a nod. And, just like that, he was left by himself once more. However, not before receiving several very lovely kisses, during which it took everything within him not to say ‘Damn that talking piece of canvas hag as well as any silly examination!’ and just have both of them stay in the comfort of his rooms for the time being.

He sighed and threw the blanket covering his modesty back onto the bed before restoring his clothes the way they’re supposed to be, triple checking whether everything was decent before leaving his rooms to make the short way over to the Hospital wing. And when he did find himself at the very top of the stairs, Aesop had to throw a phial of Wiggenweld back - the pain was better, but it was far from gone, and stairs really weren’t doing it much good at all.

The Hospital wing was as it always had been - bright and airy, sterile but homely. The scent of various healing salves, potions and herbs wafted through the pleasantly cool air, and the sun of late afternoon poured in through the partly open window. To his massive relief, Aesop found that, surprisingly, there were no students currently getting attended to by the school nurse. How curious - Aesop could’ve sworn there would always be at least one half-maimed student here at all occasions.

“Quiet, isn’t it?” Came Noreen’s voice from somewhere behind him, making the poor man flinch ever so slightly. He turned his head to see the young Nurse peering at him from out of her office/bedroom. “Indeed,” he replied coolly, flawlessly masking his bewilderment at her sudden appearance and her startling him, “how so? Didn’t you have a minimum amount of whining teenagers you must have here at all times of day and night?”

Nurse Blainey sneered lightly: “A third of Crossed Wands is worried about their NEWTs, a third is worried about their OWLs, Mr Brattleby included, and the rest are lost like forest bees on a glade without their organiser, so they daren’t set any matches that get actually dangerous. The most that happens to the lot who still go there to practice is a singed eyebrow, and they don’t really want me to witness that.”

“And Quidditch?” Aesop asked, reaching a hand out to lean a part of his weight on one of the beds.

“Well, we’ve only got Slytherin versus Hufflepuff left, don’t we? I hear Miss Reyes is making sure no member of her ‘Dream Team’ as much as sprains an ankle or pulls a muscle during their practices, so they’re in top shape for the final match, and you know Hufflepuffs - at least a dozen of them who are hoping to become healers are always nearby, just itching to get their practice in was any of the Hufflepuff players become injured. And me - I’ve got some well deserved peace at last. At least I had till you came in.”

Aesop chuckled.

—

As the Ravenclaw entered the Map chamber, a rush of emotions swept through her. Though she visited the room on a semi-regular basis, the frequency wasn't as high as she had initially anticipated it would be. The Keepers' reluctance to hasten their lectures, their occasional absolute absence from their frames, and the poignant memories of Professor Fig that flooded her mind each time she stepped inside all contributed to her subconscious avoidance of joining the four Keepers down here. And besides that, she was a busy woman…

The cold air nipped at her ears as she slowly descended the stairs leading to the spacious chamber below, she was quick to notice all four former professor’s stood within their frames. The atmosphere in the room was very nearly surreal, ethereal, as if time itself had no meaning within, there was no concept of day and night there. However, despite the four sentient portraits there, she always felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end from how unsettling the place was - each time she remembered the people on the wall were not actually there, that they weren’t trapped in those paintings, but had actually been dead and buried for centuries, the silence of the room felt deafening. Despite its lack of foes for her to defeat, no giant spiders, no rampant Dugbogs, the room actually felt scarier than many dark caves and ruined abandoned buildings when the Keepers were absent. Even Inferi would make the place feel less… dead.

She was swiftly pulled out of her macabre thoughts.

“Welcome back, Miss (L/N). It’s been some time since we last made your acquaintance,” spoke professor Rackham, his soft voice reverberating off the intricately patterned walls. The young woman swallowed and made her way across the large map of the Highlands around Hogwarts castle. “My apologies, professors - I was rather busy with my NEWTs and such…” she replied quietly before looking at the portrait of professor Fitzgerald, “Headmistress, may I… may I speak to you for a moment?”

The woman looked mildly surprised to be addressed specifically, but quickly schooled her features into a pleasant expression: “Certainly, Miss. What is it you want to talk about?” The young woman’s eyes nervously flicked around the other three portraits, the people within them regarding her with unabashed curiosity. “Actually,” she spoke, attempting to make her voice as neutral as possible despite the heat rising to her cheeks already, “actually I wondered whether I could talk to you privately…”

The Keepers’ expressions turned even more curious, and they too began looking around at one another. Finally, the Irishwoman cleared her throat: “Of course - after all, if a student wishes to speak with their professor in private, they’re fully entitled to.” Rackham and Rookwood both nodded in the Headmistress’ direction. “I shall check up on San’s tower then, make sure there are no more trespassers,” Rackham announced, slowly moving out of his portrait. “And I shall do the same with Rookwood castle. Still, such a terrible shame what has the good House of Rookwood come to, not to mention the once grand estate…”

Soon it was almost as if the young woman and the Headmistress were entirely alone, until: “I know you’re lingering just beyond the frame, San,” Fitzgerald said, her hands elegantly folded in front of herself. “I merely wonder as to why shouldn’t the rest of us know what you intend to speak to the Headmistress about. It’s not like either of us ever had shown any sort of unreliability, seeing as we protected what could possibly become the biggest weapon in the Wizarding world for centuries. Besides, four people, more experiences, a larger possibility of helping the student should she require it,” came from one of the empty-appearing frames. The Ravenclaw immediately felt a wave of frustration, as well as more colour rising into her face: “I-it’s something of a private matter, Professor Bakar…”

After a few seconds of pregnant silence, there came a sigh: “Very well. Leaving you two alone…”

Finally, Professor Fitzgerald turned her gaze back at the young woman before her: “It seems we’ve got privacy now - what did you want to talk about, lass?”

Dear Merlin… This was going to be anything but easy.

“Do you remember how Isidora would rid people of their pain?” she asked. At the mention of Isidora’s name, the Headmistress visibly tensed. Nevertheless, she nodded her head. “What actually happened to her father afterwards? I mean - in one of the pensieve memories, after she rids him of his pain, he seems… relieved. Happy, actually. Grateful. But then, in Professor Bakar’s memories, he actually has no more emotions left… He’s like an empty husk of a human… I wanted to know if… Well, if Isidora taking his pain away led to the other emotions leaving as well.”

Niamh stayed quiet for several seconds, clearly considering her answer. Before she could speak however, the young woman added: “In your memories, I saw her take your pain too… You didn’t… You didn’t ever feel like you were losing grasp on your other feelings as well, or?”

“No, no…” the Headmistress replied softly, “no, I can’t say I have. I can understand where you’re coming from, though. After San… After Isidora’s death, we had a lot to deal with. A lot of damage to fix. We had to try and make the caverns as inaccessible as possible, make up a cover story for Isidora’s passing, and, of course, alter some of the students’ memories… It was only after we made sure that Isidora didn’t leave behind anything that could potentially lead any new wielder of ancient magic astray did San inform us of the state he found Isidora’s father in…

“We went to visit him, all of us, and found him quite like you described - an empty husk. Mind, he was alive and, well, he was functioning. He worked on his field in the morning, fed the chickens, took care of the house, cooked for himself, ate, slept… But he did so without a word, without a single emotion. And when we tried to speak to him, well… It was like he did hear us, but our words were like noise and nothing else…

“We… well, we did attempt to.. put the pain back… Percival found the jar of goblin silver Isidora used to store her father’s pain in, that evening she showed us. Only, well…”

The young woman was hanging onto every word, wondering and fearing.

“Well, Professor?”

Headmistress Fitzgerald heaved a long sigh: “He didn’t return to his original state… Instead of regaining his emotions, his personality, there was only one feeling he was able to experience - a blinding rage. Nothing else than anger. Not ten seconds after Percival returned the magic into Mr Morganach’s chest did he try to attack us, blindly and in wild-abandon. In the end the poor man had to be transported to Saint Mungo’s. We thought it appropriate even though he was a muggle, since his malady was a magical one. There was never any improvement, though…”

The Ravenclaw gulped audibly, her hands beginning to tremble slightly. Would this happen to Aesop? Would he… would he eventually lose his emotions, his feelings, his very identity?

“And what about the others… Isidora took many others’ pain, didn't she? Yours too… Did anyone else lose all emotion?” she asked and closed her hands into fist to stop them from shaking.

“No. I have lived for many years after Isidora’s death. That of her father too. She did remove some pain from within me, that of my husband dying… You know, when I first witnessed Isidora removing her father’s pain, I thought it was… kind. To take away such a heavy burden one’s been carrying for so long. But then I got to experience it myself. And at first, it did feel like a relief… but then I found that something felt missing. I didn’t feel any pain caused by my grief, but I also didn’t feel the same warmth and the sort of intensity I did before when I remembered my husband. The same love perhaps… It occurred to me then that… That pain is a horrible thing to feel, but at the same time it’s something that’s needed in order for us to be able to properly feel all of the other emotions as well. And it’s the thing that tells us we truly loved somebody. Without the pain of having lost my husband, I suddenly didn’t quite understand the other emotions I held for him.. And I rather think that it was the same for Isidora’s father, whose pain was such a great part of him, it was connected to all other aspects, and he, in time, became less and less balanced. Not in pain, but not happy either.

“It’s difficult to say what came first; whether it was Isidora’s want to ‘fix’ her father, or whether she was already consumed by her lust for power. As you surely remember, she would-”

“She would inhale the residue magic from the pain she removed…”

“Precisely. With each wisp of that dark power she accepted, she grew hungrier and hungrier for more. So she may have been simply tearing away at her father’s emotions to try and balance them out until nothing remained… or she might’ve taken all of them in one take, only to strengthen herself further… We shall never know. What we do know is that nobody else was stripped of their emotions this much, none of the students, none of the residents of various Hamlets we heard of…”

Looking up at the Headmistress once more, the young woman nodded her head. This was… good news, wasn’t it? That is that nobody else was stripped away of their humanity, of their personality and of their feelings. Perhaps it meant that Aesop too won’t be losing any of his. However, how big part of Aesop was the pain in his leg? And was the difference between physical pain and psychical one so large? Having lost Professor Fig those two years ago, the girl knew that mental pain can easily feel like the bodily one. Worse, actually. And Aesop carried both of them. Would the mental pain become lesser like the physical one did? And if so, just how large a part of Aesop’s sense of identity was it?

Niamh observed the student with deeply curious eyes, soon pulling her out of her thoughts: “Will you allow me a question now as well?”

Raising her eyes, the girl nodded, not quite prepared to speak yet. “Why are you asking all of this? That is, I could understand you asking all of this out of curiosity, being a true Ravenclaw, and that is admirable. However, I have a reason to believe simple curiosity is not the case this time. Why now? What happened?”

Taking a few seconds to gather her thoughts further, the young woman breathed deeply: “Before I answer your question, Professor, I have one more - Isidora would take people’s pain away using her wand. And the pain looked like this dark cluster of magic. Is it at all possible to… replicate this spell accidentally, wandlesly, with no intent on taking anything away, and, uh, without the dark cluster of magic?”

Niamh looked very confused for several seconds, actually opening and closing her mouth a few times as she thought about the answer to the strange question, before finally settling on: “I… I don’t know… Professor Rackham would’ve perhaps been able to answer that, being a wielder of ancient magic himself, but I… Well, logically, when it comes to spells, the same result cannot be achieved by using two vastly different techniques. Not to mention a vastly complicated spell such as this could not be performed accidentally.”

“But that is what happened, professor,” the Ravenclaw finally spoke, no longer able to keep up with this careful figurative dance the two were performing around one another, “I think I accidentally took someone’s pain away…”

“I…” Professor Fitzgerald made a stop, her eyes quickly getting suspicious: “What did you do?”

The young girl swallowed and closed her eyes: “Professor Sharp - he’s one of the teachers who aided in the battle for the Final repository - he was injured some decade ago, by a curse nobody was able to break. It left him with a maimed leg. He’s got a scar that goes from his hip all the way to below the knee of his left leg, in the shape of a lighting strike, and he has a limp…”

“How do you know how his scar looks-”

“Him and I… our relationship’s quite recently moved past the boundaries of teacher and student. We became involved romantically.”

Niamh Fitzgerald, esteemed former Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Sorcery was left staring with her mouth wide open. The young Ravenclaw would’ve probably thought it hilarious if the situation had been any different than it was. The woman who prepared her a trial so terrifying and terrific, perfected into the most macabre of details, and causing her nightmares for many nights to come, was staring at her like she just sprouted not only a second head, but also a third and fourth one, and all of them were of different animals.

“I… That’s…” Niamh grasped for words.

“It’s not against any of the school rules,” the young woman spoke quickly, “All that is stated is that all extra-curricular relationships between teachers and students must be prevented from interfering with the running of the school and lessons, and in case the relationship is of the romantic status, the student must be of legal age. Which I am.”

Professor Fitzgerald finally closed her mouth, but it was obvious this revelation left her a little shaken. A little part of the student revelled in this knowledge - for once she wasn’t the one left with wide eyes and trying to process what just happened. She, however, didn’t exactly have the time to let the former Headmistress fully process the new information she was given. Even so, though, given the period of time during which the older woman lived, she decided it would be wise to keep her words as proper as possible.

“Last week the two of us… Lay together, as a man and a woman do. And something happened that night - vines of light wrapped around our bodies entirely before slowly disappearing again. That hasn’t happened since. However, today we discovered that my magic had left a mark on him, on the scar on his leg. A paler patch of skin in the shape of the same symbol that’s throughout this very room. And underneath, I could see the traces of ancient magic, the blue glow. His leg had been hurting less than before, but the pain hadn’t fully left. We don’t know what we can expect from this development - which is why I came to you.”

Fitzgerald seemed to finally get her bearings then and cleared her throat: “Well… That’s… quite the news. I… Well, of course it’s good that you came to me, I’ll try to tell you all I know, but I warn you: it may not be enough. After all, Professor Rackham is the one who also bore the ability of ancient magic, and he’s therefore more knowledgeable about it than myself…”

The young woman cringed slightly: “I was aware that it might have been the case. However, given the… nature of the situation, I felt more comfortable discussing it with you, as a woman with a woman.”

“Naturally,” replied the professor, a small smile actually appearing on her face.

“I really need to know one thing though - are you certain there’s no risk of the professor losing his emotions, like Isidora’s father?” asked the young woman then, gazing up at the portrait. The former Headmistress sighed: “I of course don’t know that for certain… However, subjectively, I do not think so. After all, you said it yourself that the process was entirely different from that of Isidora - and it seems that instead of ‘taking’, you actually ‘gave’ something.

“Now, I am entering something of an uncharted territory here, but let me just say this: love is one of the strongest, if not the absolutely strongest, ancient magic there is, and intercourse itself can make one more… susceptible to powerful magic. You see, it’s when we are at our most vulnerable, our most open. In our day to day lives, we place a varying level of restraint on ourselves, etiquette tells us to behave and speak a certain way, and it can even go as far as to directly influence the strength of our magic. The more closed off, the more volatile this magic gets. Hence the unfortunate occasional cases of Obscurus. However, when we’re as open as we get during this ultimate act of love, it’s not unheard of for powerful magic to flow freely through our veins, and collide with the magic of our partner. Usually, it only serves to… heighten the sensations.

“Actual accidental magic during such a union is rather rare, but not entirely unheard of. However, it can get quite tricky to find mentions of it, as it is naturally not exactly a topic that is discussed casually, for obvious reasons. I’ll try to aid you to the best of my abilities. I even have an idea about how your situation came to be, but I cannot make any promises that what I’m saying is entirely correct.”

The young woman heaved a sigh of relief: “Anything is good, Professor.”

—

“Alright… now, let me take a look at that.” Noreen said after she’d finished writing down Aesop’s own findings and sent the parchment floating over to her desk, where she could pore over it later. She turned to face the potions master expectantly, raising an eyebrow when he remained right where he was, leaning against one of the beds, unmoving: “Well?”

Aesop scoffed: “What, do you want me to just drop my trousers right now?” The nurse rolled her eyes at the man: “Obviously not. Go behind one of the privacy screens, undress, lay yourself down and wait for me there. You can use the blanket to cover any sensitive areas.”

As Noreen prepared a blank report for her to fill in as she examined the professor’s leg, she had to roll her eyes again. Of course Aesop Sharp limped down the Hospital wing all the way towards the cots furthest from the door. “Make sure the doors are locked,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared behind the privacy curtain.

“First he’s ready to drop his trousers right in front of the entrance, now he’d prefer this room to be locked like the bloody Gringotts…” Noreen muttered under her breath. The nurse gave him a few minutes to undress and make himself comfortable on the bed, all the while wondering as to how come there was such sudden progress.

Noreen Blainey only started as the school nurse five years ago, only a few weeks after she finished with her healer studies, making her the third third newest addition to the Hogwarts staff, as well as the second youngest member of it. Matilda Weasley was rightfully slightly sceptical about accepting Noreen at first.

“I know you were a right hard worker when you still studied here, even by Hufflepuff standards, and I know you retained this quality of yours all the way through Healer school. Your instructors have nothing but good things to say about you.”

“Thank you, Professor.”“However, I am slightly worried as to whether you’ll be able to execute this sort of… authority over the students. I needn't tell you that while you and some others were indeed working hard while here, many others would do nearly anything to get out of class, even if for a quarter an hour. And some of them have quite drastic, though very creative, ideas on how to do so.”

“You needn’t worry, Professor Weasley, I certainly don’t plan on letting anyone who’d wish to skip class off the hook that easily. You know I was never the one to condone these kinds of actions.”

“That I do.”

Noreen was able to wash the Deputy Headmistress’ doubts within half a year.

Known for her strict attitude, students thought twice before pretending to be sick just to get out of writing a pop quiz they didn’t prepare for. However, those who were genuinely sick and/or injured knew that they could always rely on the Nurse to fix them right back up. Noreen also became popular with the Fifth and Seventh years swiftly, due to her open attitude on Wideye potion, and the female population of the castle knew they were always welcome to collect what they needed on their days.

However, Noreen herself was surprised how the gruff Potions master learned to trust not only her expertise and professional judgement, but also her as a person fairly quickly. To be fair, perhaps she should not have been quite that surprised - after all, those few nights over the past years when she had to rush into his chambers, hauling several potions bundled haphazardly in her own dressing gown, to find the professor in a rather pitiful state, sweating, panting, sometimes screaming in the unholy pain he was in, that all stayed only between them, Noreen never spoke of it with anyone. Such was the physician–patient privilege, of course, but Noreen decided to go a step further, and only ever wrote what transpired during these nights in her records as ‘Night episode - potions administered’.

She walked around the privacy screen to find the Potions professor lying down on his back on the cot - his coat and jacket deposited on a nearby hanger, so his upper body was only covered by his shirt and waistcoat. His bottom half was indeed covered by the white blanket, save for the teacher’s long left leg. Aesop had his hands folded upon his midsection and was looking straight up into the ceiling. However, before Noreen could as much as sit on a chair next to the bed and begin her examination, someone took hold of the handle on the door and attempted to enter. In vain.

A second passed before there was a knock.

“Unless you’re about to die, please wait outside,” Noreen called coolly, fully prepared to let whoever was out there wait since professor Sharp had such a high preference of privacy.

“Uh, is Professor Sharp in there?” came a voice from the outside. The Nurse’s eyebrows rose slightly, and she looked at the professor to find him having risen himself up and leaning on his elbows. He gave her a slightly sheepish look: “Let her in.”

What?

Every now and then Noreen Blainey felt like she understood the potions master. And each and every time she was promptly shown she was mistaken. Oh well.

Using her wand, she unlocked the door and stepped out from behind the privacy screen. She knew who it was of course, though not so much because the young woman came around often, but rather because of what transpired around this girl two years prior.

“Miss (L/N). Your teacher is unwell, surely whatever you need can wait,” she attempted to dismiss the girl.

“Aes-” escaped her mouth before she quickly cleared her throat, “P-professor Sharp is unwell?” Noreen blinked in confusion. Before she could say anything else, however, Aesop’s baritone cut through the air: “I’m fine, (F/N). Over here.”

Now Blainey definitely didn’t understand. She briefly considered pinching herself to see whether she wasn’t in some bizarre dream in which the grumpy former Auror who had very few favourites among students, and who preferred spending his free time anywhere but in a company of a student, was inviting one of them to seek him in the Hospital wing, where he was lying half naked on the bed.

That is, she knew the two of them met up every now and then, ever since that escapade in her Fifth year, but she never would’ve thought they’d be quite this close…

The young woman made her way over to the Professor’s bed, carefully watching the Nurse from out of the corner of her eyes. And as she rounded the privacy screen, a single look was all it took for Noreen.

She never thought she was going to bear witness to such a sight, but here she was - the moment the Ravenclaw entered the former Auror’s field of view, his eyes literally sparkled, and one of his rare smiles spread upon his roguishly handsome face. And the young woman wasn’t able to conceal her own happiness at seeing the older man.

Well, fancy that! Blainey thought as she watched the short silent exchange between the couple of them. Because it was rather obvious the two of them were a lot closer than she would’ve thought. Blast it - she owed 2 Galleons to Hecat now, having bet that the young woman would get together with the Sallow lad. Which was completely logical, seeing as the two of them seemed to be joined at the hip the moment the lass stepped into the bloody castle! Did the DADA Professor know with whom she’d end up instead? She didn’t say... Only said that she ‘very much doubted’ that the girl’s and Sallow’s relationship would ever leave the grounds of a platonic friendship… Blainey was so certain though, the lad stared at her like she was a holy picture for Merlin’s sake. Oh well…

And since the teacher obviously had no qualms about letting the young woman see him in his current state of undress (despite the fact that everything but his bad leg was hidden underneath the blanket), well, that was telling by itself. Noreen only sighed: “Alright. Get to explaining.”

She then finally got to examining the leg. There were several seconds of silence before Aesop spoke, his voice measured and careful: “do we have your discretion, Noreen?” The Nurse raised her eyes to look at the couple. How curious to see the two of them nervous. She wasn’t sure she ever saw the former Auror nervous - despite his limp and the occasional nightly episode, he was always proud, confident, intimidating almost. She was quite glad she wasn’t a student anymore when he came to teach potions, having graduated in the summer before he replaced Professor Sinclair. And yet, now he was looking at her nervously and with a nearly bated breath. The Ravenclaw was as well, and Noreen saw her hands twitching, as if she was focusing all of her energy on not coming closer to grab the Potions master’s hand.

“Well, she’s a grown woman, so she can do whatever the devil she wants. All I care about is whether both sides consent and nobody is forcing anyone into anything…” Noreen raised her voice somewhat at the end of her sentence, looking into the Ravenclaw’s eyes in a clear indication of a question. “I promise, Nurse Blainey, nobody is forcing anyone into anything, and I very much consent to what me and Ae-... what me and professor Sharp have…” Noreen scoffed: “Might as well call him by his name, seeing as you obviously call him that.”

The girl went slightly pink under the nurse’s gaze and used her hand to squeeze at her arm rather awkwardly. “Look, I don’t actually care all that much about how the two of you came to be, and I definitely won’t be running around the school telling people. Though the two of you best work on your stiff upper lips, as one look at the two of you was enough for me to figure you out, and I’m much better at seeing through people’s physical state rather than the emotional one. What I’m more interested in is what happened with the leg and what you have to do with it.”

“Not that easy, Noreen - not even we know exactly what happened,” Aesop said, audibly calmer now that he knew Noreen would keep his and the young woman’s relationship to herself. Speaking of the young woman, she perked up somewhat: “Actually, I was able to find something out… I think that I accidentally imprinted some of the magic I possess on your leg - that much we gathered, obviously. But I found that the ancient magic can be something of an energy source - a different kind of it ’powers’ Hogwarts as well, like the Grand Staircase. It’s the reason all of the places built by the Keepers look the way they do, spotless and like they were built only yesterday, the ancient magic keeps them that way.”

Both Aesop and Blainey listened carefully. “I think that when the magic attached itself to your leg, well, the curse there latched onto it and started feeding off it rather than your leg itself - which would explain the pain lessening. As to whether this effect will last, whether it will become stronger or weaker - that I don’t know… However, given that the magic present within the Keeper trials and the Map chamber was able to last for at least four hundred years and doesn’t seem to be getting any weaker, I think this effect could potentially last…”

Chills ran down the Potions master’s spine at his sweetheart’s words.

Blainey of course heard the full extent of what happened those two years ago. She didn’t necessarily understand all of it, but then again she didn’t have to. For her, the main thing was the result - therefore, she returned to examining the professor’s leg: “So you say the pain has lessened. Do you feel it right now as we speak?” Professor Sharp shook his head: “Barely. And even so, it’s more like… the memory of the pain, rather than the pain itself. It feels like it should be there, given it was there for more than a decade now, but instead there’s only a shadow of it.”

“And when you walk?” Blainey continued, carefully prodding at the scar tissue with her fingers, noting that Aesop made a small grimace whenever her fingers ventured onto the redder parts of the scar, but seemed to not feel her touch when she directed it at the lighter areas of it. What was ‘covered’ by the pale patch of skin looked like a completely mundane healed scar, and was gradually turning into the angry red where the pale patch ended.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the young woman shift her weight from one foot to the other slightly uncomfortably, her eyes directed at Noreen’s hands on Aesop’s leg. The nurse rolled her eyes - of course, while Miss (L/N) was one of the more level headed students, not even she was immune to that nasty momentary flare of jealousy of witnessing another woman touching her beloved like so. “Do calm down, Miss, I’ve no intention to touch the professor in any other way than medical.”

Aesop raised his eyebrows and the girl got red in the cheeks once more: “I didn’t-...” “The good Nurse is merely having a laugh, don’t mind her,” the Potions master was quick to answer, in turn making Noreen roll her eyes some more: “What’s walking like?”

“Walking hurts still, but considerably less so than before… However, it also hurts somewhat differently…” the professor mused out loud.

“That’s to be expected - in continuously insisting not to use your cane and instead just limping around, you have not done yourself any favours. Even should the pain in your leg that was caused by the curse disappear completely, it won’t change the fact you have walked in a way that minimised it for more than a decade, that’s damage done to your muscles, your very posture - it would take some time and a lot of exercise for you to return to normal walking.

Aesop’s head was once again whirling - normal walking. Bloody hell, Aesop wasn’t sure the term would ever be applicable to him again. Was there truly a chance for him to walk normally once more? Instead of dragging his bad leg behind himself, undignified and weak (though he knew very few saw him that way), the hope of being able to walk straight, proud, his head held high, now loomed over him closer than ever before. And this time it seemed so real. It was a sweet siren’s call for the former Auror, and he was very nearly afraid to reach for it in fear of it turning into naught but dust before his eyes. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get himself back together if he decided to hope, truly hope, and then lose this hope again.

“What do you propose we do then?” asked the Ravenclaw.

“Well, I’m going to give you a list of exercises, which I implore you, Aesop, to try to do as often as possible, but within some sensible limits. There’s also trying to walk normally, for which another person should be present as well, so that they can correct your posture if need be, and be there for when you inevitably grow tired or the pain becomes too severe, for you to lean against. I presume that’s where you’ll come in quite handy, Miss (L/N),” Noreen listed, and Aesop’s sweetheart nodded her head vehemently. “Just don’t be foolish about it, Aesop. I understand that you must now feel anxious to start walking normally, if at all possible, as soon as you can, but there’s no point in maiming yourself because you tried to hurry up the healing process. Keep reminding yourself that you walked with a limp for over ten years now, you’re not going to prance about like a gazelle within a week. Overdo it, and you’re right back at the beginning.”

It was Aesop’s turn to nod his head.

“Now, this all only applies if whatever it is that makes your leg feel better holds, naturally. Shall it worsen, don’t try to force anything, you’ll only end up hurting yourself more.”

“Will do.”

“Now. How about you try to show us if you even remember how to walk normally?”

Aesop’s eyebrows shot up again momentarily before he dropped his gaze to his partially covered lower body: “may I wear my trousers before I do so?”

And so Nurse Blainey rolled her eyes the third time, now shaking her head as well in exasperation. The young Ravenclaw, however, seemed to be fighting the urge to giggle, perhaps even suggesting Aesop stays in his current state of undress. “Just your drawers for now - I want to see how the muscles in your legs react. I’ll even re-lock the door for you,” the Nurse offered dryly.

“How gracious of you,” replied Aesop in the same manner. Noreen excused herself then to place the report which wrote itself throughout the examination among the others - and then made a stop. After all, this was one that was better hidden, the knowledge of ancient magic carefully kept between the staff (excluding Black). Not to mention the whole bit about a rather clandestine student-professor romance. So, she instead decided to store the parchment in her office/bedroom, hidden away from prying eyes.

“I’m only leaving for a short moment,” she called over her shoulder, “do try to control yourselves.”

Aesop only rolled his eyes and finally threw the blanket off his person, once more revealing himself to his sweetheart. However, before he could as much as reach for his pants, he made a stop. The young woman stepped closer before lowering herself to her knees before him.

“Darling…” he breathed out, his hand coming up to stroke her cheek as if on its own. She leaned into his touch shortly before dropping her head and dragging her nose over the parts of his scar that weren’t painful to touch. She proceeded to kiss them as well, something Aesop would never have imagined anyone would ever do.

“You know, when I was down there, talking with the former Headmistress,” she whispered, pressing one last kiss to the damaged skin before carefully resting her chin upon his thigh, “she said that every spell is, essentially, a wish. A wizard or a witch can go around waving their wand and shouting incantations, but it’ll be for nothing if they don’t wish to perform the spell, if they don’t wish to levitate or summon this and that. And that night... Although the magic happened by accident, my wish behind it was intentional. I love you deeply... What I wanted more than anything was to alleviate your pain, I wanted you to feel as good as you were making me feel. I truly meant what I said - I would love you under any circumstances, even if you were to limp for the rest of our lives. But I would be happiest if you didn't have to endure that pain. And I think that is the difference between what happened with Isidora Morganach and her father and the two of us… Isidora, she took. But me, I gave you a part of myself. And I want nothing else than to give myself to you in the entirety. If you want me…”

Aesop used all of his strength to pull the girl up from the ground then. He oftentimes thought himself cynical. Cynical, battle-hardened, life-toughened former Auror. This young woman, however, was able to do so few could. Slip by his defences using nothing but her honesty. Her kindness. Her love. And each time it got him hopelessly drunk on the feeling. He pulled her into his lap and chased her lips in a desperate kiss, whispering words of love each time he had to pull back for a breath. And just as she promised to give herself to him entirely, he promised to always strive to prove he was worthy of her, no matter if he was walking or limping.

Several minutes and many tender kisses later, there came a voice from behind the privacy screen.

“Please tell me you managed to put your pants on at least…”

—

“Alright, how is this?” the professor asked, breathing through the discomfort of forcing himself to walk in a way his muscles weren’t used to - normally, that is. He was partially leaning against his beloved, something he hoped would change soon, but his step was quite measured and fluid. There was the occasional lighter step, but other than that, the teacher was fairly certain he was doing a pretty alright job. “You’re doing brilliant, Aesop,” his sweetheart said softly, her smile obvious in her voice.

For the past few weeks, whenever the two of them found the time to be together following a dinner in the Great Hall, instead of immediately retiring into Aesop’s chambers, they shared a short walk around the Hogwarts grounds. They both knew paths nobody frequented after darkness fell, and they used it to their advantage. The potions master felt stronger every day. That is, he never truly felt weak, but his limp undeniably slowed him down. Upon Noreen’s insistence, he used his cane to get around during the day and further worked on regaining his strength. The results were visible already - his colleagues commented on his limp becoming smaller, his face not being as screwed up in pain every time he was faced with stairs. Stairs were still a problem, but each ascent and descent served to motivate Aesop further.

The pale patch on his leg grew more pronounced, more visible - its pattern was undeniable now, and his scar turned entirely pink from the raw red. He no longer felt the pain of the curse, something he wouldn’t have thought at all possible a mere month ago. He stood taller, prouder. But most of all, he was grateful. Overwhelmingly so. Every single day he woke up, no matter if the sun shone into his bedroom from the other room or cats and dogs were raining outside, each morning he woke up, moved his leg, and realised that he didn’t feel the oh so familiar ache, he couldn’t help but grin like an absolute loon. And on those blessed mornings he woke up with his arms full of his beloved’s deliciously smelling body, he buried his face into her neck, prompting her to giggle at the prickly sensation of his beard on her soft skin.

It would take some more time for him to fully heal, to be able to walk like he had those nearly thirteen years ago, but Aesop was prepared to do whatever it took. After all, he did want his beloved to be able to lean against him for a change.

And, just like her, he wanted to give himself over to her fully.

Entirely.

---

thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. You can check this story as well as all of my other stories over on AO3 as well ❤

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #fanfiction #reader insert #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #professor sharp x reader #professor sharp x you #healing #fluff #established relationship

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mcdonaldsplayground · 2 years

Text

| actually the worst | part 5

ao’nung x f!reader

summary: it’s been a month and you’re still fuming over what ao’nung did to lo’ak. however, when kiri asks you to hear him out, you find it easier to forgive him than you thought. a trip to the cove of ancestors seems to solidify the newly restored friendship and also encourages a new aspect of your relationship that you weren’t expecting. when things inevitably go wrong at the spirit tree, ao’nung plays a surprisingly strong role in getting you through the traumatic events of the night.

includes: enemies to lovers, teasing, swearing, mildly suggestive remarks, mentions of seizure/death, ao'nung being... a sweetheart?🫢

word count: 4.3k

a/n: oh my god i am so sorry this took me forever to write! the past few days have just been so busy, but it's finally done😮‍💨 i'm thinking one, maaaaybe two more parts depending on what i can come up with for part 6:)

Okay, so maybe you did like him. A little. Like a minuscule amount. It was microscopic, really.

You had spent the past month fervently denying it anytime your siblings poked fun at you or when you found yourself thinking about it. However, a few days ago you were sitting on the beach, watching your siblings fool around with the Metkayina kids when you realized you had been staring at Ao’nung for an embarrassingly long time. You hadn’t spoken a word to him since the Lo’ak incident, but you’d been staring practically whenever you thought it was safe to do so. Sometimes you thought about everything you disliked about him and fantasized about punching him. Most of the time you were fantasizing about- well…

The point was that you finally decided you couldn’t deny your attraction to him any longer. But that didn’t mean you were about to let anyone else know that. Especially not him.

“[Y/N], are you coming?” Kiri’s head poked into the marui. You stopped braiding the bracelet you were working on, quickly hiding it behind your back as it was going to be a gift for Kiri’s birthday in a few days. Technically it would be your birthday too, but you preferred to celebrate her.

“Where are you going?” You asked excitedly, starting to ready yourself for what you assumed was going to be one of your nightly explorations of the island.

“Tsireya is taking us to the spirit tree!” Kiri exclaimed, clearly more than happy to be going.

“Oh…” You couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed. You certainly wanted a chance to finally see the spirit tree of the Metkayina, something you sorely missed about home. However, you knew who would be tagging along on the journey and it was not someone you wanted to be around. “Maybe just go without me.” You mumbled.

“Nonsense, you need to go. It is important!” Your mother stood from her spot next to your dad as they finished eating their dinner together. She squatted down next you, placing a comforting hand on your leg. “You have been sulking around for many days, [Y/N]. I think it will be good for you to go with your friends.” Her smile was kind, reassuring. It’s not like you could tell her why you really didn’t want to go.

“Alright.” You caved, mustering a small smile for Neytiri before you followed Kiri out the door. She was practically skipping.

“Maybe you should make up with Ao’nung, tonight.” She said airily, and you choked on your own spit.

“W-what?” Kiri barked out a laugh, shaking her head.

“Relax. I said make up. Not make out.” Her eyes danced with laughter as you tried to ignore your heated cheeks. Even she, your trusted twin, had not been able to resist teasing you about the bane of your existence.

“Either way, it’s not gonna happen, Ki.” You pursed your lips. She smiled, looping her arm through yours.

“He’s not so bad anymore.” She was no longer teasing, but you snorted out a laugh anyway. “I’m being serious! I still don’t like him much, but you have to admit that he’s been incredibly civil lately.” She was right, of course. The Metkayina boy was still a snarky moron, but he’d actually been getting along with everyone. He’d even attempted to apologize to you, but you were making it incredibly difficult by avoiding and outright ignoring him. “Just give him a chance to talk to you, okay? You don’t have to forgive him if you don’t want to.”

“Fine,” You sighed, wishing anyone but Kiri had asked you this favour. “Though I think cutting my own leg off would be preferable to listening to him speak.”

“Listening to who speak?” You shouldn’t have been surprised that he had snuck up on you yet again. It was becoming ritual at this point.

“Is nothing I say ever private to you?” You whipped around, meeting those shining blue eyes. It was the first time you had made real eye contact with him in weeks.

“I’m going to go meet the others. I’ll let them know you guys are on the way.” Kiri whispered, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze before she took off in the direction of the beach. You swear you saw her grinning.

“So you’re talking to me now, forest girl?” Ao’nung’s deep voice was neutral, but his small smirk betrayed his satisfaction.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist. It’s not exactly my choice.” You scoffed, finding a small bit of amusement in the fact that Ao’nung didn’t know what panties were. You could see him fighting the urge to ask.

“I suppose you’re expecting me to apologize.” He finally said, looking incredibly uncomfortable. It was clear that he didn’t make apologies often.

“I suppose I am.” You echoed, crossing your arms.

“I’m sorry.” He bit out. You blinked, waiting for him to continue. The soft chirping of insects and the distant rush of the shoreline were the only sounds as the two of you stood, awkwardly staring. When it became clear that he didn’t plan on saying anything else, you let out a short, bitter laugh.

“You can’t be serious.” You turned to go, thinking about what a waste of time that was. However, you only made it about two steps before a callused but incredibly gentle hand closed around your arm, tugging you back.

“Wait.” He breathed, sighing softly. You turned slowly back to face him.

“I really am sorry, [Y/N].” You stilled at the sound of your name passing his lips. You couldn’t think of a time when he had actually said it. It was always forest girl, or freak. The way your name sounded coming from him was intriguing. He said it like a prayer. Like you were something to be worshipped. It made it difficult to pay attention to the rest of his apology.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me.” He frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t deserve it, honestly. But I just feel really desperate for you to know that I learned my lesson that night. I kept on imagining what could have happened, how it could have turned out. I- I have nightmares about it still,” He paused briefly, looking past you for a moment as if seeing something you weren’t. Your heart clenched. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to impress people. Trying to be funny and unbothered and worthy of being the future Olo’eyktan. I don’t know when that made me into a monster, but I don’t want to be that anymore.” He swallowed deeply, nervously shuffling from foot to foot while avoiding your eyes. The sight was unbearable.

Without thinking, you stepped closer, reaching up to place your hand on his cheek. Startled, he looked up from the ground, meeting your gaze.

“I forgive you, Ao’nung.” Your words were almost inaudible, but you felt him shiver slightly beneath your touch. Slowly, his hand extended out to rest on your waist, inching the two of you closer than ever. His breathing was slow and methodic and you instinctively reached up, placing a hand over his rapid heartbeat, completely unable to look anywhere but his blown pupils. Your mind felt impossibly slow, barely registering anything other than Ao’nung’s grip on your waist and the fire it was spreading all along your body. It was when his lips brushed ever so lightly across yours- so excruciatingly close to being a kiss- that you came rushing back to reality.

“Jesus christ, I’m sorry…” You took a faltering step back, shivering at the loss of contact when Ao’nung’s hands fell away from you. “I- That-” You stumbled over your words, so utterly embarrassed that you couldn’t think properly.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed…” He shook his head, stepping back a bit.

“I mean- I’m just- I need some, like, some time.” You finally got out the words, hoping you weren’t sounding like a jerk. “You did almost kill my brother, after all.” A breathy laugh escaped your lips, but you instantly regret your words when you realized how terrible they sounded. However, they rang somewhat true. It seemed ridiculous to be macking on the boy immediately after he apologized. You didn’t want to be that desperate.

“So… can we go back to how things were, then?” He asked, his signature smirk playing at his lips. Relief flooded you as you processed his words, glad to be offered a way out of the mess you had just created.

“I don’t know,” You shrugged. “Are you willing to go back to getting your ego demolished by me?” You quirked and eyebrow, earning a scoff from him.

“You wish, freak.” He suddenly turned, starting toward the beach. “Better catch up before everyone leaves without us!”

You huffed, jogging to match to his long strides. “Maybe I can convince them to leave you behind.”

No one said a thing when the two of you strolled up to the water together, looking what you assumed was at least somewhat amicable. Your friends and siblings just shared quick, knowing looks before you all mounted your ilus and started off for the cove of ancestors.

Ao’nung rode beside you throughout most of the journey, and the two of you traded sarcastic remarks and snide comments, seemingly making up for lost time. It felt good, almost normal again, and you found yourself thinking that maybe a friendship with the infuriating boy was actually possible.

"We're here!" Tsireya finally called out, slowing down to allow everyone else to catch up and take in the surroundings. It was truly an incredible sight, with the soft glow from the underwater bioluminescence and lush green vegetation, all surrounded by the jutting silhouette of large curved rocks and smaller suspended chunks of land. You glanced around at the faintly illuminated faces of your companions and a swell of contentment filled your chest. You missed your home in the forest deeply, but you felt that the ocean and its islands had rightfully won a place in your heart, and that gaping wound left by your grief was beginning to hurt a lot less.

"So beautiful." You breathed.

"Yes." Ao'nung agreed, and you turned to where he was floating, already staring at you. You flushed slightly under his gaze, wondering how long he had been focused on you.

"I think you have some drool on your chin." You quipped, and he quickly brought his hand up to his face, looking slightly alarmed. Seconds later, he caught on. His face twisted into that of annoyed amusement. The two of you had never entered this territory of playful flirting before, but he seemed game.

"Very funny, forest girl," He simpered. "And pretty bold coming from someone who's been eye-fucking me for the past month."

Your jaw slackened as everyone else burst out laughing, including Kiri, who you shot a betrayed look.

"What does that mean?" Tuk piped up from her spot on Neteyam's ilu, looking confused. It seemed most of you had forgotten she was there.

"Oh shit- I mean, it's nothing, Tuk." Ao'nung quickly backtracked, earning a threatening glare from Neteyam and another round of muffled laughs from everyone else. Even you could barely hold yourself together.

"Just don't repeat that to mom and dad." Neteyam sighed, shaking his head.

"Why don't we go to the spirit tree now?" Tsireya spoke up, still smiling. Thankfully, everyone nodded and started dismounting into the water. You swam closer to Ao'nung, lightly smacking his arm.

"Nice going, genius." You snickered and the colour in his cheeks deepened.

"Shut it." He rolled his eyes at your continued laughter, though a smile was creeping onto his lips. Eventually, he was full-on grinning, the look so genuine that it was almost shocking. The only two expressions he ever seemed to make were akin to scowling or smirking. This was something entirely new. You realized your gaze had become fixed on the curve of his lips and blushed.

"Who's drooling now?" Ao'nung laughed, settling back into his signature taunting smirk. You decided not to let an opportunity pass you by.

"Don't get any ideas, freak." You shrugged. "I was just thinking that I've never seen you smile like that." Your heart sped up as you finished your sentence.

"Like what?"

"Well... like you're actually happy. You usually just look like an asshole with a debilitating god complex." You had to round things out with an insult, thinking you were inflating his ego a little too much. He just smiled and shook his head, finally turning to swim after the others.

"If you didn't hate me so much I'd think you were in love with me." He said before he dove under the water, heading for the spirit tree.

"If you didn't act like such a skxawng then maybe I would be..." You mumbled, diving under too as you became consumed by your own thoughts. Less than an hour ago the two of you had been seconds away from kissing, but you couldn't seem to let yourself go through with it, like it was somehow offensive to the very core of your being, despite your growing feelings. So why, after such a rejection, were you unrelentingly teasing and flirting?

You had only been attempting to return to what was normal- known territory- between you and Ao'nung. Teasing each other was like breathing. But now that you understood your feelings for him, it was fun to flirt a little bit, especially because you had convinced yourself it was a harmless action, more of a game than anything else. Because you couldn't help but fear that's just what you were to him: a game to be played and won.

So that's how it would be, you decided. You would be happy to oblige in this self-indulgent game so long as it never became more. He was still the bane of your existence, after all.

Connecting to the tree brought you back home both figuratively and literally. The tree of souls flashed in your memory, and with it a thousand little reminders of the life you had left behind. The first time you went hunting with your father, exploring the forest as a child with Kiri, playfully fighting with Lo'ak and Spider, bonding with your ikran, sleeping next to your family and breathing as the forest breathed with you. All of these experiences were collected in your mind like beautiful, treasured shells. It was was wonderful to have them on display.

You eventually ended up in a memory that you didn't even know you had, blinking as you trekked along one of the thick vines that connected the hallelujah mountains together. You harbored many memories like this, certainly, but this specific one felt different somehow. You strained to think of when this had taken place.

"Hurry up, slow poke!" You found yourself calling out, a laugh bubbling from your chest when someone groaned behind you. You turned your head and struggled to make sense of your companion.

"When you said you were going to show me your home, this is not what I pictured us doing." Ao'nung frowned, glancing warily over the side of the vine you both walked upon.

"No? What exactly were you picturing, then, Nung?" You queried and Ao'nung's lips split into what you could only describe as a suggestive grin. Since when the hell did you call him that? Everything about this was so strange to you. It was clearly not one of your memories at all.

"Oh, you know, maybe a little less dangerous hiking and a little more finding a secluded spot to-"

"Oh my Eywa!" You- or at least this alternate version of you- yelped, shaking your head. "Just keep walking, you sick bastard."

"Just putting ideas out there.." He chuckled, suddenly pushing forward to catch up to you. He slung his arm around your waist, pulling you into him like it was the most natural action in the world. You tried to stop alternate you from leaning into his touch, to no avail.

You leaned in closer, standing on your tiptoes to whisper into his ear. "You're so desperate, Ao'nung." He shivered.

"Only for you, forest girl."

You ripped your queue away from the tree, breathing heavily as you desperately tried to work through whatever that was. You had never experienced anything like it before, even when you connected to the tree of souls back home. It scared you.

When you had calmed yourself a little, you looked around at the others, most of whom were still connected peacefully. Ironically, only Ao'nung seemed to be finished as well, his eyes settled on you through the layers of glowing fronds from the tree. He gave you a questioning look, sending you briefly back to your supposed trek through the mountains with him. Your cheeks burned, wishing you could just forget about it entirely. Ao'nung opened his mouth to speak, but didn't get the chance when the fronds around you suddenly began flashing and pulsing.

You snapped your head around, trying to find the source of the change when your searching eyes landed on your twin. Her body was impossibly rigid, her neck bent back as she shook somewhat violently. You immediately dove toward her, disconnecting her queue from the tree as Neteyam swam up and grabbed her, pulling her upwards. You grasped onto her stiff hand, trying to still the tremors that had her fingers twitching. You briefly registered Ao'nung on the other side of her, helping Neteyam swim her to the surface.

When you all burst through the water, panting, you wasted no time in lifting Kiri onto the back of Neteyam's ilu.

"Is she breathing? Is she breathing?" Rotxo asked worriedly, and you mentally thanked him for saying what was on your mind. You couldn't seem to speak as your throat constricted with fear.

Neteyam hopped up beside Kiri and blew a few breaths into her lungs, thankfully getting her chest moving on its own again.

"Let's, go! We have to take her back!" Lo'ak yelled, urging Neteyam forward. As soon as he took off, your hand slipped out of Kiri's, leaving you even more afraid than before. Your own body was stiff, your mind running through a thousand thoughts a second. Everyone around you was mounting their ilus and taking off toward home, but you were panicking too much to even keep yourself properly afloat. Water entered your throat as you hyperventilated, your head beginning to feel extremely light.

"[Y/N]!" Ao'nung's voice sounded distant, but he was somehow directly beside you in the water, offering a hand. You grasped onto it and he pulled you quickly up next to him like you weighed nothing at all. "Just hold on, okay?" He said directly into your ear, his tone urgent but kind. Since you were in front of him, there was nothing much to grab onto except for the arm that was gripping the ilu's saddle. Evidently, that did not seem to be enough for him because as you went speeding along the water, he wrapped his free arm protectively around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

The ride back felt like mere minutes, thankfully, but Neteyam and Kiri were nowhere to be seen along the shoreline when you arrived. You hoped that meant they were already inside your marui and getting help.

You were so intent upon getting to Kiri quickly that you stumbled getting off of the ilu, your shaking legs nearly buckling before Ao'nung was there again, grasping onto your arm to steady you. When you found your balance once again, he let go, but stayed close behind as the two of you ran for your marui pod.

"Kiri!" You cried as you approached, catching a glimpse of her lying on the floor of the pod. There were many people scurrying around her, trying to figure out what was wrong, but they kindly made room for you to kneel beside her, taking her hand in yours once again.

"What is the matter?" You looked up frantically, searching the faces of anyone close by in hopes that they had an answer. Most of them looked just as clueless and frightened as you, including your parents. Only Ronal seemed somewhat calm, examining Kiri from her other side. You caught her eyes and a look of pity passed over her features.

"I do not know yet what is afflicting her, child." Ronal said calmly, but you grimaced at her words, your breaths once again starting to come out short and fast. "But she is stable, now. She is asleep. I believe it is her body trying to recover." You relaxed some upon hearing 'recover', but the incident was still fresh and playing over and over through your mind. You just wanted Kiri to open her eyes, to prove to you that you had not lost her.

"Just fix it!" You knew it was unfair to yell and get mad at everyone who was just trying to help, but you didn't know what else to do. You jumped a little when a warm hand rested on your shoulder from behind. Your mother's eyes were filled with worry, but she spoke gently.

"Leave us to help Kiri, [Y/N]. The Tsahìk needs space to work, my daughter." She urged kindly, gently tugging your elbow to pull you up. You reluctantly released Kiri's hand, still breathing hard. Not knowing where to go, you awkwardly spun on your heel, looking around for a better place to stand. Ao'nung caught your eye from where he stood in the doorway and gestured for you to follow him outside. You didn't really want to go far from Kiri, but the rational part of you knew it would be best, so you obliged. As soon as you stepped out the door, Ao'nung grabbed your hand, guiding you away from your marui and down the short path to the beach. You stopped when you reached the sand, the two of you just standing and staring out into the vast stretch of water. Something about it seemed to snap the last little bit of restraint in you, and you began to whimper, a fresh round of burning tears making their way down your cheeks. Your whimpers turned into loud cries mixed with hyperventilating as you lost all control of yourself. You were so far gone that you didn't even question it when Ao'nung suddenly pulled you into his arms, folding them loosely around you, as if unsure of himself. The comfort of it felt so insanely good that you pressed into him further, stretching a bit to wrap your arms around his neck. He took that as a good sign and pulled his arms tighter, forcing your head to rest on his chest as you cried.

"She will be alright. Eywa will protect her." He whispered to you, his thumbs drawing comforting circles along your back. He held you that way for a long time, not once loosening his grip on you even as you began to calm, sniffling for a bit before eventually growing silent. Your breathing fell into a slow, methodic rhythm that was somewhat in tune with the strong and steady heartbeat you could hear through Ao'nung's chest. Your eyes fluttered shut, just allowing yourself to feel the body against yours. The strength of the arms holding you in place. The smooth skin beneath your cheek. The pleasant warmth of the fingers trailing across your back. You sighed heavily, releasing any leftover tension that you had been holding in your chest.

"Don't think this means I like you." You finally said, wanting to distract yourself from thinking about your sister and spiraling again. A reprieve from the situation was necessary, at least for a little while.

Ao'nung chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Of course not." He said. "I would never be so bold."

"How come you're always so warm?" You questioned, enjoying as the heat of his touch bled into your skin.

"It's obviously because of my ridiculous good looks." You could hear the smirk in his words, and you took that as your signal to finally pull away from him, immediately regretting the loss of contact.

"What does that have to do with it?" You raised an eyebrow, skeptical, but Ao'nung just shrugged.

"Nothing. But you just admitted that I'm good looking." His smile was infuriatingly wide. You scoffed.

"I most definitely did not, skxawng. You're delusional."

"Mm, I don't think so." He said, shifting to sit down in the sand, facing the water. You followed, sitting close enough that your leg was pressed against his. Neither of you seemed to care to move away to a more appropriate distance. "C'mon, just admit that you think I'm handsome!" He nudged you with his shoulder, earning a glare from you.

"Not gonna happen, fish lips."

He gasped dramatically, throwing a hand to his chest. "I'm wounded!"

"Aw, poor baby." You mocked, jutting out your bottom lip into a pout.

"Well now you're just being rude." He deadpanned. You laughed.

"You really want me to give you a compliment?" You finally asked, and he perked up, eyes shining as he nodded.

"Alright," You sighed. "Your face is actually kind of handsome," Ao'nung opened his mouth to agree. "When your stupidity isn't screwing it up." You couldn't help but immediately burst out laughing, especially as the conceited smugness on his face twisted into a scowl.

"You're the meanest woman I've ever met." He grumbled, shaking his head.

"That's why you like me." You grinned.

"It's definitely not."

"Oh, but you admit that you do like me?"

"That's not what I said."

"Sounds like it."

"Sounds like you need to shut up."

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