vanilliacream

Latest Posts by vanilliacream

I got a lot of requests for more funny journal entries by Sharp, so I just made a whole bunch and threw them all together. Enjoy! 😅

Your daily dose of spooky posts

Sir ? Yes, you ? Why are you so cute and regal and feline?

Why you look so good? 🥵🥵🥵

@angies-writing-blog @zelyna-w

I listen to The Order of the Phoenix and all I want to say is that even though Phineas Nigellus Black was the worst headmaster, I fucking love this bastard 😂😂😂

Hogwarts Legacy modern AU

MC: -slaps card down on Sharp’s desk-

Sharp: What’s this?

MC: A Father’s Day card.

Sharp: Oh

MC: Don’t make it weird, ok? It’s just a card. -quickly leaves-

Sharp: -opens the card-

“Professor Sharp,

You’re basically my dad. Deal with it. You have a daughter now.

-MC”

Sharp: -tears up- It’s perfect

There will come a ruler

Whose brow is laid in thorn

Smeared with oil like David's boy

my ao3

Phineas is happy and he's cute

That's it

Hogwarts legacy modern AU

-an email from the headmaster-

Students and staff,

I have a very important announcement to make. I just took a DNA test, and it turns out I’m 100% that bitch.

-Phineas Nigellus Black, headmaster and resident DILF

-Sharp texts MC-

Sharp: Seriously? Again?

MC: ????

Sharp: Don’t play dumb. You sent out another email as the headmaster.

MC: Um, no, I didn’t.

Sharp: -attaches the email-

MC: HAHAHAHAHA

MC: But that wasn’t me

Sharp: Well then who was it?

-Matilda runs to the headmasters office, hearing music from inside-

Matilda: SIR??

-opens the door-

-Phineas, chugging from a wine bottle and dancing-

Black: HELLO MATILDA! I FOUND A LITTLE MUGGLE DEVICE WITH MUSIC! ISN’T IT WONDERFUL?

Matilda: Sir! I think you need to sit down!

Black: THAT TAYLOR GIRL WAS CORRECT, HATERS GONNA HATE HATE HATE

'' If you don't give me something of value, then don't talk to me. '' He said in a sneer.

Hogwarts Staff from Hogwarts Legacy

Why’d they make Phineas Nigellus Black hot

 I don’t mind if he sends me to Azkaban

Dating Elrond Headcanons

When I wrote these, I was kind of imagining more RoP Elrond than LotR movie Elrond, but it's playing out in your head, so picture whomever you desire!

Warnings: None just Elrond being a sweetheart

- You once mentioned in passing that you liked a specific species of arctic bird. Well, in his research of this bird, he found that one of the mating rituals you likely found "cute" was the exchange of specially curated rocks, to symbolize the want to construct a home together. Finding this heartwarming, he set out on an excursion. - There are cool rocks showing up on your desk, on your doorstep, in your bag, sporadically for months. - Luckily you catch the reference so you know exactly who they're from and find it endearing - Even though he understands the risk of a human-elf relationship, that doesn't mean he "gets" humans completely lol - At least, not until several years with you - He kinda… showers you with gifts - Like a lot - A month after you started dating, he presented you with a ridiculously expensive pair of earrings - You loved them, obviously - But after a few more like that, you actually had to tell him to tone it down, you didn't need bribery to be with him - You can actually tell that while he is older (by a few thousand years) and wiser (by a few thousand books), he has never been in a relationship before - Or maybe he's just, y'know, like that - He's very sweet and doting, always offering to run errands with/for you "should you wish", escorts you everywhere, and will actually leave or blow off meetings to make sure you're getting enough of his time. - Somehow, even with all this, he's still very pleasantly surprised when you take an interest in him - You thought he was going to combust when you asked him for a much simpler gift--3 or 4 of his favorite books that he had already annotated, so you could see what he thought of them - If you bought/made something for him because it reminded you of him? - he's always really cool and collected but he might tear up a bit - he would be thanking you profusely for weeks, probably whenever he looked at it (or thought of it) - Proposal/engagement/wedding headcanons coming soon

Imagine yandere Elrond helping you get over your hangover and lying to you about what you did last night because you made out with him and Elrond did not want you to be embarrassed

(and also wanted to preserve your innocence of him because you knew he would not get drunk due to the meating he had in the morning and plus you knew if you did make out with him he SHOULD’ve pushed you away the first time you kissed him so you would know that elrond egged you on)

Have some memes I have just made!

Leather and dust (Thranduil x Reader)

Leather and dust Thranduil x Reader Warnings: smutty

Summary: Thranduil pays you a visit in the library.

The creak of the heavy doors breaks the silence of the library. It’s loud and sharp in the silence. A small gasp leaves your lips as you jump because of the sudden sound. The book almost slips out of your hands, and you tighten your hold at the last moment. Your nails dig into the leather cover.

You know he is here. You can feel it. And hear it. His steps are heavy thuds on the ground. Putting the book back in its original place on the shelf, you try to listen to the rhythmic noise to find out where he may be. A frown appears between your brows as you turn your head left and right. His steps echo between the tall walls. One moment, you are sure he is far away, and the next second, your heart jumps to your throat at his closeness.

Where is he?

Keep reading

Categories and masterpost

Due to me writing a bit and putting links and pieces of it in the blog, I'm going to do a reference sheet !

Everything that is not directly my writing or not mine is going to be put under the tag "other people's stuff" and what I did write will be both under "Ruri writes: XXX", with X being the name of the character.

I'm also going to put links there so it can be clearer to read. I have an ArchiveOfOurOwn account AGAIN, so please don't hesitate to visit and write or like or do anything if you like :)

(And here is the glorious Discord where #EleazarFigFanClub roams free: https://discord.gg/mP27AsWq4u thanks to Endeavour12345, if it doesn't work, please mp us.)

Texts list

Phineas x reader

The Green Amphiptere

That's it, Phineas had enough with students pranking him with Zonko's goods - and he banned everyone from entering the shop. You are tasked by Zonko's owner himself to prank him as a reward. However, even if Black has softened his view on you during the years, you're not sure he's going to accept it this easily...

Phineas Nigellus Black-centered stories

Migraine

Exactly what it says on the tin. Why does Phineas hate so much Quidditch ? There might be a reason after all...

Too Late for Apologies

Hogwarts is under attack from Ranrok's loyalists... And the fight is also going on the surface. Our "beloved" Headmaster is the first to unleash all the powers the castle is willing to lend, but...

Sometimes, strength isn't enough, and he's going to learn it full time.

Easter Break in Grimmauld Place in 1891

After the catastrophic events of the "coup" below the castle, Phineas Nigellus Black can return home a bit for Easter with his sons... And the reception is very much not warm!

What happened behind the scenes during the Third Trial

Eleazar Fig decided to distract PNB so we could get into his office and polyjuiced ourselves as him first. Phineas might have a lot to say on this occasion...

Fifty years birthday

Title pretty self-explanatory : it's Phineas' birthday, for his 50 years. And absolutely no one is paying attention to him. Or do they...?

Elizabeth Letendre (my HL MC) centered stories

Breakfast

Or what happens when Hufflepuffs try to use the new 5th year student to convince the Headmaster to change his mind about forbidding Quidditch. And how maybe they, after all, do have a common point !

The Neglected House

Eleazar Fig was sent to retrieve and teach the new 5th year, since they had no answer from her house at all. What he discovers though, is less than stellar...

Easter Break in Dove

Elisabeth goes back to her house in Dover during the Easter Break of 1891, for the sight of Hogwarts during the holidays, where her beloved teacher should be, but isn't anymore… is too painful. Not necessarily better in Dover. … But perhaps she'll have an uncommon guest?

TRIGGER WARNING: Suicide attempts and mental illness, manipulation mention here.

House Cup

(Professor Black POV) A discussion during the House Cup... And a new, proper introduction between two people who should learn to work together.

A summer meeting

The Headmaster, shortly after the House Cup, asked Elisabeth to lend him an afternoon during the summer so she could meet with the Daily Prophet journalists asking him relentlessly to allow them to interview her. Today is the day where he's supposed to come and bring her to the place scheduled for the interview. But Elisabeth, who already don't feel very well at the idea of meeting journalists, learn WHERE she's supposed to meet them… And it's not what she was expecting.

R for professor sharp if you write for him. If not then Ominis please. Spicy😘

Looove this.

Spicy🌶️(18+) All characters of legal age.

R: “Right and wrong is a thin line.”

- - -

He’d watched you nearly the entire class as he normally would. He was enchanted by everything you do and everything he wanted you to do.

Your delicate hands worked skillfully to brew his assigned potion, the liquid turning just the perfect shade of purple. Perfect. Everything about you was perfect.

The professor shook his head a little, as if to clear the filthy thoughts from his mind but it was no use. You were engrained there, dirty thoughts about you in the little plaid skirt always present. He strode over to your table, lifting the small glass vial of the potion in the air to inspect it.

“Well done Miss,” he spoke slowly, your eyes twinkling at his praise. “20 points to your house. Well deserved.”

“Thank you, Professor Sharp,” you beamed at the older man, “your tips made all the difference.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” he refused any credit, “Your natural talent for potionry is a gift.”

You blushed at his praise. No matter how often he seemed to give it to you, you always craved more. It was like an addiction to hear how proud he was of you and you desperately wanted nothing more than to be a good student. A good girl for your professor.

Professor sharp cleared his throat as several large gongs signaled the end of the period.

“Class is dismissed. Please read pages 651 through 680 in preparation for tomorrows class.”

You began gathering your items but the professor stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. You shivered despite the innocence of the touch.

“Would you mind staying back to help me set up potion stations for our first years, Miss?” He looked hopeful and you would never want to disappoint him.

“Of course, Professor,” you waved your friends on with a promise of meeting up with them later. “I’m always happy to assist.”

This wasn’t the first time he had asked you to stay behind, truthfully, it was rare he ever let you leave class on time. He was desperate for any amount of time he got to spend with you without prying eyes.

You began the usual task of setting up cauldrons and ingredients for the next class when Professor Sharp spoke.

“You’re almost done with your last year with us,” he seemed almost sad, “What will you do after you’ve finished your schooling?”

“Truthfully,” you sighed, “I have no idea.”

The professor pulled out a chair next to him at his desk, beckoning you to come sit with him. You did happily, slipping off your heels and allowing your tired feet to rest on his lap. You’d normally never be so bold but you’d done this many times before, relaxing in the company of your professor. He rested a hand on your calf, rubbing up and down your stocking.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he admitted, “you should apply here, at Hogwarts, be my apprentice.”

You started to laugh but stopped when you saw the seriousness in the man’s eyes.

“You’re serious? You don’t want me to leave?”

The professor’s fingers stilled for only a moment before running them higher up your leg, toying with the edge of your skirt. He had never let his hands wander like this before and your breathe caught in your throat. He was being vulnerable, extremely vulnerable, and he’d be fired if he was caught but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to care.

“I can’t bear the thought of not seeing you everyday. It was hard enough during the holidays.”

His fingertips danced just under the trim of your skirt, inching further up your thigh.

“Professor?” You questioned, butterflies going crazy in the pit of your stomach. He pushed on, hands now gripping the flesh of your thighs in his strong hands. He knew that if he thought too much about it he would lose his nerve, so he threw caution to the wind and brought his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. He was shocked to feel you kiss back, winding your hands around his neck to pull him closer. Suddenly the reality came crashing down on you and you pulled away, panting.

“This is wrong… you’re my professor…” you were talking more to yourself than to him. He pulled you back to him, his hand gently coaxing under your chin to look at him.

“Right and wrong is a thin line, my darling girl.”

He searched your face for hesitation and when he found none, he kissed you again, slower this time. You’d been kissed before, Sebastian had been your first, but this was nothing like that. Those awkward kisses and light touches from a young boy were nothing compared to the confidence of this grown man. You moaned softly against his lips and he stilled. You pulled away, worried you had done something wrong.

“I’m sorry Professor, I couldn’t help myself it just slipped out and-“ he silenced you by pulling you into his lap, his hands holding you roughly in place. You squeaked as he settled you over him, his very obvious erection pressing up against his stomach.

“Never apologize for that,” he shushed you, “I just wasn’t expecting those little moans to do so much to me.”

He kissed you again and you brought a hand down to rub against the bulge in his pants. He hissed through grit teeth.

“Have you ever had a cock in your mouth?” His question was bolder than anything you had ever heard but you melted at his words. You shook your head but got down on your knees between his legs anyway.

“I haven’t but I’d like to have yours,” you looked up at him through your lashes, knowing that the innocence of the gaze would drive him wild. He laced his fingers in your hair with one hand, the other unbuttoning and freeing his erection from his pants.

“Lick it first,” he instructed, “then take it in. Only as much as you can fit.” You followed his directions quickly, very used to his guidance. He was slightly salty but sweet, the skin smooth and velvety on your tongue. You hummed as he guided the tip between your lips and he gasped in pleasure.

“You’re such a good student,” he pressed further into your mouth, “just like that.”

You were always putty for his praise and you wanted nothing more than to please him so you did your best to take as much of his impressive size into your mouth. What you couldn’t fit you wrapped a hand around and squeezed as you bobbed your head up and down. His moans increased in volume and frequency as you worked, spurred on by his incoherent words of approval. His hips stilled and he pulled you off him suddenly, shouting loudly as ropes of his orgasm painted his hand and his stomach. When he opened his eyes after his orgasm subsided, he saw you still between his legs, a small pout on your lips.

“Why did you push me away?” You asked and he chuckled, pulling you back up into his lap to kiss you once more.

“I didn’t want to finish in your mouth because I didn’t think you’d know what to expect,” he pressed a loving kiss to your forehead, “next time I won’t push you away, I promise.”

The Violet Hour

Aesop Sharp x Reader

This was supposed to be a short little self indulgent thing. But it's grown out of control. Will there be a part two? Who knows. Can be and should be read as a standalone.

CW: Blood, Student/Professor, mentions of Arousal, for sake of things being legal everything took place during 7th year.

NSFW Minors, Do NOT Interact

Aesop didn't think much of it the first few times you failed to attend his class. Perhaps he was just too busy to fully realize that it was becoming a habit, that he couldn't remember the last time you were present. He wanted to be lenient, wanted to give you the space you needed to mourn the loss of Eleazar. He knew that healing wasn't linear, that grief couldn't be given a time limit.

Nevertheless, you were failing his class and he couldn't have that. You were much too bright to throw away your future, to fail and watch all your friends graduate and leave you behind. He knew that he held as much fault in this as you. He was head of your house, it would have been terribly easy to show up to your common room and drag you to his class every day until the embarrassment was too much and you would rather show up on your own. At this point, remedial work could only do so much, could only bring your grade up to a measly 'Poor'. He wasn't sure what it was that you intended to do with your life after graduating, but having such a low score would be of no help. The world out there was ruthless, the Ministry would take one look at your academic performance and they wouldn't care to ask questions, to try to understand the circumstances that you were dealing with.

Aesop was worried that in your grief you would give up on life, throw away your potential to become great and he couldn't allow such a thing.

That's why when he comes face to face with you in the boat room in the dungeons, he doesn't let you run away, stepping in front of you and blocking your path back into the halls of the school. He still holds the cigarette in between the fingers of his left hand, and he flicks it on the ground, grinding it to nothing with the heel of his shoe in one swift movement. He had wanted to sit with Matilda and formulate a plan that would help you get you back on track, but you're here now and he sees no point in waiting.

"Might you explain why it seems that you've deemed my class so blatantly insignificant?" he asks, acutely aware of the way you freeze in front of him, your eyes falling anywhere but on him. You're trying to find a way to run away, but he's determined not to let you go. He waits for an answer, scoffs when it never comes. "I'm sure that you know that you're failing, that even with your achievements in the other subjects, there's no way you're going to graduate this year."

You give him a sharp nod, and he's unsure why the action gets under skin, why he feels frustration slither through his veins and pulse at the back of his head. "Do you not care?" he hisses, his voice raising.

When you take a step back he moves with you. When you try to move around him, Aesop doesn't think twice about grabbing your arm and pulling you around. It's a rather precarious position he's put you both in. You, pinned against the cold brick wall, while he stands in front of you, his hand pressed against that same wall, blocking your escape. You're trapped, yet still you wont look at him, wont answer him.

Instead you tug on the sleeve of your blazer nervously, your breathing coming out in shallow pants that he recognizes as the first signs of a panic attack. He should step back, should drag you to the Black's office and have him deal with you. But before he could make up his mind, you finally open your mouth.

"Please let me go." you whisper, your voice shaky. "I need to go, I can't-"

"What you need is to understand the severity of your situation!" Aesop cuts you off, "Instead of taking responsibility, you're trying to run away!" He's moved closer, the gap between your bodies closing and you respond by pressing yourself against the wall, as if you could disappear into it.

"Please," you repeat, shaking your head. "You don't understand."

Aesop wasn't sure what it was that he expected to see when you finally looked up at him, when your eyes found his. There was the fear that he knew he would find, he was never short of intimidating.

It was the subtle red tint of your eyes, the flash of elongated points in your mouth that bit into your trembling bottom lip, that made him take a step back, that made him swallow his words.

He barely hears the way you're apologizing, barely registers the tears that coat your face before you're covering it with your hands, ashamed of yourself.

In all his time spent chasing after the dark arts and its practitioners, Aesop had never come face to face with a Vampire before. He had heard old tavern tales about the creatures, thought it all to be nothing but fictitious tales meant to keep children from trusting strangers. Looking at you, at the way you coward in front of him, sobbing apologies, the shame that radiates off your body a palpable mess that wraps around his throat, there's a brief second where Aesop thinks that the stories were meant to keep those creatures from trusting humans.

It's not exactly fear that wipes his mind from any coherent thought, but its there, telling him to get away from you, to report this to Black and the Ministry. There were procedures to follow, weren't there? But how do you detain a living dead?

He didn't realize that he had reached for his wand until you let out a terrified yelp, sliding down the wall and shaking your head. It's rather sobering, watching a student so visibly afraid of him, that he drops the wand and curses out loud.

Who exactly was afraid of who, in this scenario?

"I haven't done anything, I haven't hurt anyone!" you whimper, and the sight of your fangs sends a chill down his spine. "Please don't hurt me."

Aesop curses again, bending down towards you and ignoring the way his leg screams in protest, the way his brain tries to tell him to run, he reaches for you.

The tales were always the same, warned of skin cold to the touch, of monsters that would do anything to kill. His hand on yours, there's nothing but heat that radiates off of you. Part of him was expecting this to be a trap, a lure most foul that would end with him exsanguinated, dead for someone to find. Or maybe his body would never be found and he would end up a bitter old ghost, doomed to roam the halls of the castle.

But you push him away, and there's no inhuman strength to the movement. You're not the monster he's trying so hard to convince himself of you being, you're just a young woman, absolutely terrified of an old man like him.

"I'm sorry." He whispers, crouched down in front of you, his face softening. "I'm not going to do anything, alright? So don't look at me like that." Like this would be your last night alive.

You wipe at your face with your sleeves with so much force that your face starts to redden at the cheeks, a button cutting into your flesh. "I drink from the animals, no killing."

You're trying to assure him that he wasn't on the menu, and he can't help but laugh sharply. "How long have you been..." for some reason the word gets stuck in his throat and he has to force it out, "A vampire?"

It's almost as if its your first time hearing the word, your eyes widening minutely as you open your mouth as if trying to find the proper words.

He waits, his eyes holding your own.

"A few weeks." you say quietly.

"It's why you've been missing class, hasn't it?" Funny, how even now, his main concern was still your education. Younger him would have probably staked you, uncaring of the life you had. The thought makes him frown, and for once, Aesop was glad that he wasn't an Auror anymore.

"I'm scared of hurting someone, it takes too long for the hunger to settle after I feed."

That would explain why it was only his class you skipped, it was after all, your first class of the day. "The sun doesn't hurt you?"

"It's only an annoyance."

He grunts, watching you tug on your sleeve again. He can't help the questions, even though you look nothing but uncomfortable.

"Who knows?"

"Just you."

He stands, his leg thrumming with pain but he ignores it, holds his hand out to you. You don't take it, and he doesn't blame you. He hasn't exactly been very kind to you.

He watches you stand, watches as you fidget with your clothes and dust them off. He watches as your eyes flit to the side, towards the body of water that separates the school from the rest of the world. He moves so he's in the way, and you swallow, biting down on your lip.

"Where is it that you think you're going to run off to?" His voice takes on that distinct tone that he uses when he catches a student about to do something incredibly foolish. And right now, he's absolutely sure that if he lets you run off, you would be too afraid to come back.

He already had trouble sleeping, knowing that he would be the reason that you deemed Hogwarts unsafe, would eat him from the inside out.

There's a sudden warmth to your cheeks that has him frowning.

"I need to feed." you whisper, looking back at the mountains. Aesop thinks about asking you if you could somehow see your dinner from so far away, but the question seems a little too rude and he would rather not make you feel worse.

"Why do I have the feeling that you're not going to return if I move out of your way." It's not a question, he knows the answer. Can see it in the red glow of your eyes.

"You're going to tell the Ministry and they're going to kill me."

The shame is back, because he had thought about it. Even now, he was still considering it. You might be a student, but he saw the way your eyes kept flicking to his neck, the way you kept licking your lips. There could come a moment where you lost yourself in your bloodlust, where someone could die at your very hands and he would be just as responsible.

But that part, that tiny, minuscule part of his brain, wasn't going to convince him that having you murdered was somehow the right thing to do.

"You would be dead already." he says.

You flinch, but he stares at you, unmoving and perhaps you realize that he's nothing short of foolish himself.

"Then let me go, please."

"I'm sorry." he says gently, because he truly is. You're not leaving.

"I have to feed, I don't know what happens if I don't." he hears the panic, hears the fear that shakes your voice as you plead.

Aesop pictures the hundreds of children that could possibly become your next victims and he sighs angrily, ripping the buttons from his sleeve as he pushes the cotton up his arm.

"Then feed." he says harshly, holding his arm out towards you. If he's to take responsibility of you, the weight of that responsibility must extend to even the most difficult choices. "Take what you need from me."

It's absurd, offering his blood to you. What does he know about vampirism, about the significance of what this could mean to you? He could lower his arm, could step away from you and act like none of this had happened. You would leave and he could learn to live with the guilt of letting you go.

You let out a soft whimper, closing your eyes. In that moment you looked so small, so scared and Aesop knew that he couldn't bring himself to do that. The thought of you out there, consumed by your hunger, haunted him.

"Don't be scared." He whispers.

He's gentle when he sets his hand on top of your head, his fingers slipping through the strands of your hair until he finds the nape of your neck. He's gentle when he grabs a fistful of your hair and tips your head back. "Whatever happens," he says, once more meeting your eyes. The red isn't as intense with the tears that cloud your eyes. "I wont let you go through this alone."

Aesop brings your head down to his arm, feels the way your fangs scrape against the inside of his arm. He tries not to focus on the way that your breath makes his skin break out in goosebumps, or on the way that your tears dampen his arm.

He hears the way you apologize, your lips moving against his skin in a way that has him questioning whether he was doing this as a professor who cared about his student, or a man who would do anything not to lose the woman in front of him.

He grunts when your fangs sink into his flesh, your hands coming up to hold his arm still and your eyes close. It doesn't hurt in the sense that he thought it would. Aesop has to stop himself from growling in frustration as the feeling of you drinking his blood reminds him of an action far more carnal. The more you drink, the harder your fingers dig into his arm, the more his body responds in a way that has him wanting to do far more than just dig his fingers through your hair.

He's tested when you pull back to breath, your eyes flying open and finding his. The red is gone, your eyes back to normal but he can see the glaze of arousal on them as you bat your eyelashes at him, intoxicated on his blood.

"Fuck!" he groans when you let out a mewl and sink your fangs back into his arm, keeping your eyes on his. You're messier as you drink again, and he can feel your lips and tongue roam across the puncture wounds, spreading the blood around.

He doesn't know how, but he's pressed himself against you, the swell of his cock inside his trousers dangerously close to your hip. All he has to do is pull you closer, angle his arm a certain way and you'd be right where he needed you most. You let out another moan, no longer drinking from him, instead you gasp for air and lick your lips clean.

For a brief second Aesop forgets who he is and where he's at. He forgets that you've drank his blood and that he's your professor, his hand, stained with his own blood, is on your face, grabbing you by the chin. He tilts your head, uncaring of the way his nails dig into the delicate flesh of your face, and he kisses you.

Its a ravenous thing, kissing a monster like you. There's a sweetness to your mouth that makes him want to never pull away, his tongue sweeping across your lip, tasting you. He swallows your moan, lets himself groan against your lips as he holds you still. It's only when he feels your hand slide against his clothed cock that he pulls away, letting go of you in a panic.

His back is on the wall, and somehow he's managed to unbutton your shirt and slip his hand inside, holding your bare waist. He hisses, pulling away while simultaneously pushing you back.

You blink, snapping out of whatever daze you were in, as he rolls his sleeve down and tries to make sense of what he just did, what he still wanted to do.

But nothing makes sense anymore.

"I'm sorry." you whisper, pulling him from the thoughts that threatened to consume him.

Aesop's head snaps up, and he finds that you've managed to fix your appearance, that your shirt in once again buttoned and tucked into your skirt.

"I don't know what happened, I'm sorry." you reiterate.

He lets out a grunt, running his hand across his chin as he looks away from you.

"If I were to surmise, it would seem that feeding on humans causes a sense of...intense arousal," Aesop's voice is low and hesitant.

"Oh." you whisper, looking away.

"I'm sorry as well," he says thickly, ashamed of the line he had crossed, the things he did to you, the things he was still struggling on not acting on. You seemed to have gotten over the effects already. Could it be due to his age that the feeling was still so thick in the lowest pit of his stomach, refusing to dissipate. He clenches his fists, feeling a mix of guilt and desire coursing through his veins. "I had no right to touch you, to kiss you." he chokes out.

You don't say anything and Aesop doesn't know if he truly wants you to say anything. He was the one at fault here, he had forced you to drink from him, he was the one to initiate such perverse actions. He was older than you, he should have far better control on himself than that.

His arm, the one you bit, burns uncomfortably when he reaches into the breast pocket of his coat and takes out his tin of smokes. It's a nasty habit, but honestly it was the least of his worries right now.

He had just sexually assaulted a student, one cigarette wasn't going to alleviate the weight of his guilt but he could surely try.

He places one between his lips, cups his hand in front of it but before he can light it, you interrupt him.

"I could taste it in your blood, you know. It's not exactly good."

Aesop scoff's shooting you an incredulous look as he takes the cigarette from his lips to answer you. "I'm sorry if it wasn't the delicacy you were hoping for."

You flush, shaking your head and Aesop has to count to ten, accidentally crushing the smoke when his body reacts to the warmth on your face.

"I didn't mean it like that. It's not good for you, it's making you sick."

He drops the ruined smoke on to the ground, wiping his hand on the side of his trousers. "I didn't pick up the nasty habit because of it promised any beneficial properties."

"Would it be forward of me to ask you to stop?"

"I'm not letting you drink from me again."

"Thats- I don't want to drink your blood!" you hiss, and Aesop has to hold back a smirk.

"Not quite the same as the rodents you chase around in the dead of night?" he teases you, the unease and awkwardness between them slowly disappearing. He tries not to focus too much on the way his brain still wants him to touch you.

He likes the way you roll your eyes, the way you move your hair out of your face and tease him right back. "I never said I chased rodents. I prefer my meals a bit more... refined."

Aesop chuckles. "Refined, hmm?"

He's flirting, baiting you to take a step closer to him. You might be the Vampire here, but Aesop suddenly felt like a predator hovering near his prey. It was an exhilarating feeling, a dangerous dance between two beings with their own primal instincts.

He swallows and stands up straight. "While I'm flattered that you think me a better meal than the school rats, I think its about time you head to your room, is it not?"

He's aware of the disappointment in your eyes, but he needs to put a stop to whatever it is that's happening before he does something he cant stop. "Vampire or not, you're still a student and I'm still your professor."

"Should I be worried about waking up to you holding a stake above my chest?"

Aesop sighs, his shoulders drooping as his voice softens and he lets himself take a step towards you, grabbing your hand. "I promise you, I'm not going to hurt you. Or turn you over to the Ministry. As long as you keep your hunger in check and you start attending my classes again."

You frown at him. "I can't I-"

"Come early, I'll let you feed from me." he interrupts you, and he knows its inappropriate, but he brings your hand towards his face and kisses the pulse on your wrist. "I told you, you don't have to do this alone."

"What if I-"

"You won't." he cuts you off again, inhaling the scent of your skin before letting go.

"You don't even know what I was going to say."

"Whatever excuse you're trying to find to make me change my mind won't work. You're going to come early, you're going to drink my blood, and you're going to get your grades back up to an 'Outstanding' by the time you graduate."

"And if I refuse?"

"You won't." he repeats, patting you on the head. "Now, I expect to see you tomorrow morning, five o'clock."

He doesn't care to wait for an answer, instead Aesop leaves you there, wondering if he offered you an unending supply to his blood because it was the only way to get you back in class or if it was something far worse.

The line between student and Professor was blurring into a tantalizing haze, and Aesop could feel a potent mix of fear and excitement coursing through his veins, leaving his skin tingling with anticipation.

In the morning he would make sure to let you know that this was strictly professional, he would keep his hands to himself, no matter how hard. He would let you drink from him, would push you until you no longer were at risk for failing. He would convince himself that he would do it for any of his students, that you weren't in anyway special.

For tonight he will let his debauched thoughts ruin him until the thought of you no longer consumed him. Until he worked you out of his system entirely. Until you were nothing more than a student to him.

Per Aspera Ad Astra

Happy Birthday to our favourite ex-auror potions professor! Three birthdays in the life of Aesop Sharp, brought to you by@tea-withjamandbread and @aesopsharpmybeloved. Part of collections A New Chance at Life as well as The Sharp Family Chronicles. Aesop Sharp x (adult) MC!reader

word count: 9.4 k

tw: mentions of alcohol abuse, depression, suggestive content, tooth-rotting fluff

July 1st 1881

It’s been a few days since he’s been released from St Mungo’s. Again. Dinah still had a few more days to attend to her responsibilities in Hogwarts, however, for the time being, she seemed to trust Aesop not to do anything too crazy until the term officially ended. Aesop soon discovered that all of his liquor bottles, both empty and full, had disappeared. Wonderful. There was not a single drop of alcohol left in his house. At first he felt annoyed. Irritated. Already trying to think of a way to get at least a single drink, just a little something to take the edge off. 

He didn’t have an owl, and he couldn’t exactly Floo, much less walk to some shop or pub. Not in his current state. Wiggenweld potion could only do so much, and while it did heal the smaller cuts and scrapes and helped with the pain, his hands were still bandaged in order to keep the healing balm applied to them from drying up while it restored his mangled hands. If he didn’t look miserable before his breakdown, he absolutely looked miserable now.

There was no way he could go anywhere like this… and there was no way anyone would be willing to bring him anything either. Aesop didn’t know how many people knew about his collapse - he was certain Dinah would make sure the number was minimal - but he was absolutely certain his mother knew. Abraham too, possibly. And the very thought of flooiong one of his (now former) colleagues to ask them to send him a drink? He shuddered. No. They’d ask questions. They’d possibly come over. They couldn’t see him like this.

Dinah was right. As she usually was, of course. He probably should lay off the booze for a while. Aesop wheeled himself throughout the downstairs of his childhood home. The mirror in the ground floor bathroom was left nothing more than a frame - Dinah probably vanished all of the broken glass. As he slowly rode through his kitchen, a picture frame caught his eye. In it was a photograph, and Aesop almost couldn't recognise his own face in it. 

He didn’t even know why Ashley would get a camera - probably to take photos of her son, first and foremost - but she had brought it to his birthday dinner last year. She wasn’t a particularly good photographer, but a few nice shots were taken that night a year ago. This was one of them - he was standing by the bar in the Leaky Cauldron, actually looking quite handsome and very confident, Dinah next to him and Abraham on the other side. The photograph was moving like they were moving back then - grinning, laughing, clinking their glasses together.

And then, suddenly, Ashley appeared, peeking out from the corner of the photo, wanting to be in the picture while taking it. She looked like she always did - carefree, optimistic, confident. Her wild streak has lowered somewhat since she and her wife got their little boy, but she was still the kind of person who walked into the room and lit it up with her mere presence.

He wheeled over to the photograph and placed it face down on the shelf where it stood. He couldn’t look at it anymore. Those happy memories had been his reality only a year ago. To him, though, it felt like a century had passed. The man whose birthday was being celebrated in that photograph was someone else. A happy man with his whole life ahead of him. A man with a successful career, who still struggled with his love life to be certain, but who hadn’t given up on his dream of settling down and raising a family in the home in which he himself had spent his entire life. 

A family? He wasn’t sure he could even… Not that anyone would ever want that from him anymore. Who could see him as any more than the cripple that he was. That dream of having a family of his own died the moment he stepped on to that godforsaken ship. It had vanished the very moment he had led his partner, his oldest friend, the one he was supposed to protect, to her death. His hubris having cost her all of her dreams and plans as well.

He decided that the birthday captured in the photograph Ashley had taken would be the last one he celebrated. He would have more birthdays, of course, Dinah having knocked some sense into him after his breakdown. He had already been the cause of enough pain and suffering for those he cared about the most. So he would make a point to survive, to continue existing, for them, but he saw no need to boast about having circled the sun one more time. Not when his partner hadn’t circled it with him.

Suddenly he heard the door open. He wasn't expecting company, in fact he had specifically requested that no one visit him today. He didn't want to worry anyone but he also didn't want to face their feeble attempts at cheering him up, at making him feel special on the anniversary of his birth. He didn't want to see the sadness and pity in their eyes. They did their best to hide it, of course, but he knew it was there. He was a pitiful sight indeed. He wheeled himself around as fast as he could manage and drew his wand, not that it would do him much good in his current state, the bandages on his hands making his grip awkward. If it came to it, he didn't know if he'd even be able to defend himself and his home in the event of an unsavory intruder.

He recognized the footsteps instantly and pocketed his wand.

Of course she'd show up anyways. The nerve.

Dinah bloody Hecat.

He heard the door close and wheeled himself to greet his guest. He'd at least give her that courtesy. When the younger, now older looking woman appeared in his line of sight, he saw she had come armed with a large bag of groceries. She looked at him.

"You look like hell."

"Lovely to see you too."

Dinah walked right past him, heading straight for the kitchen. Aesop thought she might have walked straight into him if he hadn’t quickly wheeled himself backwards. He supposed he still retained some of his Auror reflexes even after everything.

Dinah set down her bag and started unloading everything, pulling out potatoes, carrots, parsnips, various herbs, a jar of broth, some dried mushrooms and a large piece of meat out of the bag. Aesop knew instantly that she had come here on someone else’s errand. She had never been much of a cook herself after all. Aesop however, recognized his mother’s venison stew when he saw it, even in its currently disassembled state. 

“Mum sent you, didn’t she."

It wasn't a question.

“She’s worried about you, Aesop. Especially today of all days”

“There’s nothing special about today. It’s just… a day”

“It’s your birthday, Aesop”

“Why does that even ma-“

Dinah dind't give him the time to finish, fixing him with a stare so intense, he had to stifle a tremble.

“It matters because 34 years ago your mother labored for about the same number of hours in order to bring you into this world. She then raised you along with your father until he was gone. Then she somehow found the strength to raise you AND provide for you by herself while grieving her own husband. It matters because she made sure you had everything you needed for your education, because she saw you through your Auror training AND career and earlier this year, she thought she’d be laying you to rest next to her husband instead of the other way around. So today, on the anniversary of your birth, even though YOU don’t want to see her, she STILL wanted to make sure you got to eat your favorite meal, so I am here, Aesop Theodore Sharp, on HER errand and I WILL see this through, even if I have to bind you to that infernal chair of yours and force feed you myself.”

Aesop pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew his mother deserved better than the worry he had put her through not just this year, but during his entire career as an Auror. And as much as he hated to admit it, he knew that Dinah could, and would follow through with her threat. Hell, the woman could have taken him down at his peak, let alone the sorry state he currently found himself in.

"Dinah-"

"As I was saying, I'm not here to celebrate. I’m here to make sure you don't starve to death. Also this house needs tidying up… you know I'm always afraid of tripping over something or another when I visit you nowadays. My balance isn't the worst for someone my…well for someone with the body I have, but it's not getting any better"

It was easy for Aesop to forget that Dinah, while exhibiting a strong facade and with her fierce personality, still hadn’t fully made peace with her own career-ending injury. Although she had remade herself as Hogwarts’ Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, he knew this was not her first choice. He would have to remake himself in due time, the pension he received from the Ministry barely covering his living expenses, but he wasn’t ready for that. Not yet at least.

Dinah busied herself browning the meat for the stew when she addressed her friend once more.

"You need to bathe, Aesop, you smell quite terrible."

"I… it's been a few days."

"I can tell. Do you need my help or can you manage on your own?"

"I think I can manage."

“Good."

Aesop wheeled himself to his bedroom where he carefully got undressed and discarded his clothes in the now overflowing laundry bin. Well, it wasn’t exactly his bedroom, the room had originally served as a study, however, following his injury, ascending the flight of stairs that led to his bedroom was no longer an option, so his mother had conjured a bed and had attempted to make the room as cozy as she could. He appreciated her efforts, but it just wasn’t the same. Nothing was, come to think about it. 

With a towel around his body for some semblance of privacy, he slowly made his way to the bathroom and took the bandages off his hands. They looked a little better today, but he would still need to reapply that healing balm for another week according to the Healers at St Mungo’s. He sat on the bench that had been conjured in the shower and turned the water on. He carefully went through the now considerably lengthy ritual of lathering his hair and body, being careful not to irritate his hands too much. 

The scars on his leg and face used to be excruciating, however the passage of time as well as rigorous desensitization as part of his shower routine had made them almost painless to the touch. If only his blasted leg would have improved in the same manner he’d maybe have a shot at a fulfilling life. However, he had been told to get used to it, to “learn to live” with his injury. He could never get used to this. He would never get used to it. Perhaps there was something out there that could help him.

He put those thoughts aside and shut the water off, dried himself and opened the door leading to his hopefully temporary bedroom. He instantly noticed that the windows had been opened, a warm summer breeze gently blowing in the large bedroom. His bed had been made, the overflowing laundry bin had been emptied and there were clean, comfortable clothes laid out on his bed, next to the armchair he sat on while getting dressed. 

That woman truly was incorrigible. As he got dressed though, he realized how nice it felt to breathe the fresh summer air that was cleansing the room, as opposed to the stale air he had been inhaling ever since he had been discharged from St Mungo’s. He hadn’t been opening the windows at night like he used to before his injury. In that moment, he remembered how much he enjoyed it, though. Tonight he’d make a point to open his bedroom windows before turning in. He also realized how his shower, how the simple turned not-so-simple act of washing his body had put him in a slightly better mood. He applied the healing balm to his hands and bandaged them before making his way towards the door.

As Aesop left his bedroom, he could already smell the stew Dinah had prepared, which had just started to simmer. He could also smell the freshly brewed tea she had prepared. As he approached her, seated at the dining room table, the chair that would normally be next to her having been vanished in what he assumed was an invitation to join her, he noticed she had already poured them both a cup, and that she was currently poring over his mail, which had accumulated over the past week. He hadn’t bothered to sort through any of it since returning home.

“Still only cream in your tea?”

“Of course”

Dinah handed him his cup as well as a pile of letters

“These require your immediate attention”

“I’ll… make sure I deal with them, then”

Dinah handed him a quill, barely looking up from her organizing.

“No time like the present, Aesop.”

Aesop took the quill without argument and started filling out the various forms Dinah had given him. Applications for additional disability pay from the Ministry, tax forms, appeal letters to send to the Ministry requesting they cover the various experimental treatments he had received to attempt to heal his injury sustained in the line of duty. Once in awhile Dinah added a form or two to his workload, while sorting out the mail she deemed as rubbish.

“This one appears to be an offer letter fo work for the Auror recruitment program”

“They told me to 'take all the time I need' but they’re really hoping I don’t need time at all don’t they. That I’ll just bounce back, so to speak.”

“It would appear so”

Aesop sighed. “I’m not ready, Dinah. I can barely take care of myself at the moment. I can barely even walk from here to the front door of my own house. How could I-”

Dinah placed her hand on his

“You don’t have to accept the position right now, Aesop. I read the letter and they appear willing to wait for you to recover more before you’d-”

“I’m not sure I even want that job. I don’t think it would be right for me to take it”

“You can think about it later. For now, let’s get us some fresh air.”

Dinah stood up and made her way towards the side door, past the kitchen, where the stew she had prepared was still simmering. Aesop followed her outside. She sat on the stone bench closest to the house, overlooking the now quite unkempt garden. Aesop wheeled himself right next to her, a difficult feat on the uneven terrain. He really ought to get walking again, lest he spend the rest of his life confined to his house. They sat in comfortable silence.

“That stew does smell delicious. You did a great job.”

“Well, your mother was very clear in her instructions. All I did was follow.”

“You did so much more than that.”

“I know you’d have done the same for me. You did, in fact, if I remember correctly.” Aesop had been there for her when Dinah had been wounded on the job. He had been there at the hospital, and had helped her tremendously when she moved back to her home. He had even offered for her to move back in with him. They were no longer romantically involved, but he had still been ready to put his life and plans on pause to help her in any way he could. She had declined his kind offer but appreciated it nonetheless.

“Yes, well… that’s what friends are for, I suppose.”

They had been through so much together. A failed romantic relationship turned friendship for the ages. They had each seen each other at their worst and would eventually make peace with their respective situations, and see themselves at their best once more. For now, though, the present moment was all that existed.

"You know, you told me I'd hate you come September… you're going to try a lot harder to get me to that point."

"Term just ended. I have plenty more time now to be a thorn in your side."

Aesop chuckled, perhaps for the first time in a long time

"Thank you for being here today."

July 1st 1893

The last week of school flew by in front of Aesop’s eyes. Exams were done, and both teachers and students could breathe a sigh of relief. He had helped his sweetheart settle into the little house she rented at the edge of Hogsmeade throughout the last few days, her various books and tomes, the majority of her clothes, the little knick knacks and memorabilia she collected during her three years at Hogwarts. 

And, of course, the beasts. Some would be released back into the wild, as the poachers throughout the Highlands severely lessened in numbers, following this insane (former) Ravenclaw student crashing into their operations. A few more vulnerable ones would be found new homes, as would be the girl’s new apprenticeship at Brood and Peck, and some she simply wished to keep and care for herself. With Aesop’s help, they transfigured the inside of a large chest into something of a Sanctuary for the beasts his love would be keeping. Deek aided in their relocation, having a hard time saying goodbye to them. (F/N) had promised the elf he was welcome to visit them whenever he wanted.

The Seventh year’s ball rolled around, then graduation, then the teary-eyed departure of most of the students on the Hogwarts express. Aesop wouldn’t admit it, but he too had shed a few tears all those years ago, when he boarded that train for the last time. 

Today, however, was not a day for tears. It was Saturday, which meant his sweetheart had two more days to settle in and get her bearings before officially beginning her adult life and her new job. She usually woke up before him, but it seemed the turbulent few days left the young woman in a state of exhaustion. It was the first time she spent the night in her new abode, and Aesop graciously agreed to help her find  out if the bed was any good. 

Well, it definitely wasn’t as good as the bed he slept in at Hogwarts, nor the one in his own house, being softer than he was used to. However, he noted that his back wasn’t troubling him upon waking up, which was a small victory. Much bigger victory currently craddled in his arms. His beautiful young lover was curled into his side, her breathing soft and even, her hair matted and messy with sleep, and a bit of drool was dried upon her jowl. The potions master thought she looked like a dream come true. 

He took in his surroundings, the room was unfamiliar and had yet to be lived in, but it had every bit the potential to become a very cozy bedroom. The floors were straight and firm, the wallpapers pleasant to the eyes, the windows let in a lot of natural light. Speaking of the windows, they were currently open to let the fresh summer morning air in, and Aesop could hear the wizarding village waking up and coming to life. In a few hours, the streets would be filled with people enjoying what was looking to be a sunny Saturday. Aesop closed his eyes again with a content little hum, burrowing further into the light smooth sheets and his sweetheart’s arms.

It all still felt rather surreal, really. Every single night he went to bed with the lovely Ravenclaw, he expected to wake alone and realize it's all been nothing but a dream. And while he did wake up alone on quite a few mornings, it took only a few seconds for him to know that it certainly hadn't been a dream. There was the faint floral scent of his lover's perfume clinging to his sheets, to his pillows, to him. It was all around him in this intoxicating vapor, mingling with the cool air around him. There was sometimes a note, carefully folded upon one of the seats of the large leather sofa, directly in his field of view from the bed. There was the absence of the shirt he wore the previous day…

Even now, when she was resting in his arms, soft, warm and absolutely real, Aesop bit into his bottom lip to make sure it wasn't a dream. He was startled then, as a sudden loud sound came from outside, followed by some more commotion and the frustrated voice of Zonko's shopkeeper. Probably a firework gone haywire. The young girl stirred against him, groaning quietly.

"Good morning, you," Aesop said softly, a smile appearing on his face on its own accord. His beloved tilted her head and her eyes fluttered open. The first thing she saw was Aesop, and he felt his heart throb, when her own face stretched in a smile, her sleepy eyes immediately filled with love and devotion. She looked around the room then, an adorable little line between her eyebrows as she slowly began to realise she wasn't in Aesop's chambers, nor was she in her dorm. 

And then it hit her. The young woman released a breathy chuckle and her legs curled around one of Aesop's own. The potions master felt her warm cheek on his collarbone, he felt her hands caress his furry torso. It was then he had a little realisation himself - his sweetheart was also making sure she wasn't dreaming. And it was this knowledge that made him drop his head back onto the pillow, his eyes closing in bliss. 

“Good morning, Aesop,” she whispered before raising her head a little to place a kiss between his jaw and his chin. She released a soft sigh then, gently resting her forehead against his collarbone once more. Aesop’s heart beat loudly in his chest, and he was certain she knew it was only for her. “Merlin, it's so strange… no homework, no essays, no studying… so strange to wake up and know that I don’t have to do anything...” On her mouth was a content smile, very much reminding Aesop of a kneazle that got the cream. “Oh, yes,” he answered, voice light and teasing, “for exactly two days. Then off to work with you!” The girl snorted against his skin, and when she lifted her head again, Aesop was nearly certain she was keeping herself back from sticking out her tongue at him.

“Besides,” he continued, his large hands stroking over her sides and back, relishing at the feeling of her silky soft skin under his calloused fingertips, “don’t forget that you’re not in Hogwarts anymore. There are no house elves - you cook for yourself, clean after yourself, the full deal.” She was lazily twirling strands of his chest hair around her index finger, her face absolutely relaxed: “I can do that. I think. I can cook a little, and I tend to keep things tidy. It’s just… Well, my household spells are still a bit shabby. I think I’m going to get frustrated trying to wash the dishes using magic, and will end up just doing it by hand anyway.” Aesop chuckled, the girl atop his chest bouncing softly with the motion. “All in good time,” he said, “Rome wasn’t built in a day, and just like everything else, household spells need to be practiced in order to be perfected. I can help you with that.”

They lay in the girl’s bed, legs entwined, just enjoying the calm summer morning. “What will you be doing, by the way, now that you’ve no classes to teach and school work to grade for the next two months?” She inquired curiously. “Me? Oh, I’ll be staying in your bed every day, teasing you that you have to go to work!” the potions master grinned and promptly received a playful smack to the chest. “No, no. I still have some unfinished things at Hogwarts, not to mention my trunk’s still in my chambers, terribly unpacked, I'm afraid. There’s several teacher meetings during the summer as well. I’ll be brewing potions for the hospital wing throughout the two months so that it’s all stocked up for the following term. I'll be revising the curriculum - though I hardly ever make changes to it - and I also need to tidy up the house a bit. It does get dusty after ten months. However, that all can wait. It can definitely wait for the two free days.”

And so Aesop Sharp and (F/N)(L/N) spent the beautiful July day simply enjoying their freedom and their company. The young woman insisted on preparing their breakfast by hand, and while it was ‘just’ scrambled eggs and some toast, Aesop was certain they were the best scrambled eggs he’d ever eaten, simply because they were prepared by her and he was able to enjoy them in her company alone. 

Afterwards he showed her how to properly clean the dishes with magic, starting with a single teacup. They picked up and cleaned the singular dishes back and forth, until everything was clean. A single flick of Aesop’s wand summoned a towel from a hook, which promptly began drying the dishes clean. Another flick, and the dry ones floated to their respective spaces and stored themselves. With a smile, he observed his young lover’s awed expression. “No worries,” he promised, “you’ll have perfected it before the year is done.”

They decided to go for a little stroll along the banks of the Black lake later, talking softly, basking in the sunlight. Aesop, whose entire wardrobe was still at Hogwarts, chose to only wear his trousers, shirt and waistcoat, opting to leave his jacket and overcoat behind, as it was entirely too warm to wear them. He still applied a little cooling charm on all articles of his clothing for comfort. When his sweetheart got dressed, he realised that it really had not been often he saw her out of her uniform or her adventuring ensembles. He certainly couldn’t wait to remedy that, he thought, as he observed the dress she chose for their outing. It was light, sleek and simple, and it complimented all of her curves perfectly. She saw him staring and actually twirled for him with a wink. Little minx.

Aesop offered his arm to her, and his heart squeezed tightly at the display of emotion he saw in her eyes when she immediately accepted it. They walked all the way to the spot she brought him during their late night hippogriff flight. “You know, back then I had to use all of my energy not to just turn my head and kiss you,” (F/N) laughed quietly, a small blush on her cheeks. Aesop grinned and looked towards the dark, murky water, remembering that spring night. He could almost see the memory in front of his eyes. His sweetheart skipping stones at the shore, him standing behind her, longing.

A shuffle next to him brought him out of his thoughts. The young woman was currently pulling off her summer dress, baring the skin of her legs. “What are you doing?” he asked, eyes as big as saucers. Normally, her taking off her clothes would get nothing but positive feedback from him, however, seeing as they were out in the open, in broad daylight, he very much doubted the woman had some tender fun on her mind right now. She grinned at him giddily as she finally managed to escape the fabric and folded it haphazardly. She disposed of it on the same boulder he leaned against over a year ago, her shoes already sitting on it, and, with a wink, began running towards the water, in nothing but her chemise and drawers. 

“No way…” the potions master shook his head, even as the corners of his mouth began twitching. And then, with a single tiny squeal, (F/N) threw herself head first into the Black lake. He was smiling fully now, finding her youthful playfulness and unadulterated joy incredibly endearing. He walked closer to the water’s edge. His sweetheart emerged a second later, drenched from head to toe, grinning wildly. She was slightly flushed from the cold, but otherwise looked in utmost bliss.

“I hope you don’t expect me to jump in after you,” he said wryly, crossing his arms over his chest. The woman laughed with all the meriness of a child. She swam closer to the shore for a bit, so that she could stand while she pushed her wet hair out of her face: “Honestly, I was rather hoping you would, but I’m not going to force you. Although I’m telling you, you’re missing out!” And with that, she leaned back and began idly floating on her back. 

Aesop looked at her form. The white chemise was clinging to her body, her skin showing through the wet material. Dropping the cooling charm he put on his clothes, he noticed just how hot the day turned. Suddenly the water seemed all the more appealing. He admired the curves of his lover’s body, his hands already itching to trace them as he unconsciously pulled at his own clothes. He knew she was watching him out of the corner of her eye, actually saw her roll her eyes a little as he conjured a small leather holster for his wand and tied it around his bony ankle and shin. 

She rolled around to look at him fully when he took a step after step towards the water. Despite the hot weather, the water was cold, and it nipped at his skin, but Aesop didn’t let that stop him. Another step. The water was now at his calves, then knees, and getting higher. He winced slightly when he was half submerged, baling his hands into fists as he battled the cold. But then he saw her little smirk, the challenge still shining in her eyes. With a huff, Aesop dived under the water. The sudden shock his body experienced was quickly overcome when he saw his sweetheart’s legs underwater, kicking slowly to keep her afloat. 

He grabbed her just above her knees and rose above the surface. He faintly heard her little squeal before a pair of arms wrapped around his neck and her playful eyes connected with his own. Her legs found purchase around his waist and he released them in favour of curling his own arms around her waist. He stared triumphantly into her eyes for a moment, before chasing her lips in a very wet and a little cold kiss, prompting a happy humming sound from his beloved.

Aesop was done with missing out.

It was late afternoon when they returned to (F/N)'s new abode. They spent the better part of the day by the water, swimming, playing, and simply relaxing. While his sweetheart busied herself with conjuring up a blanket for them to sit on on the bank, Aesop cast just a few protective wards around them, so that they could enjoy themselves in solitude and safety. He couldn't even remember the last time he's had a day like this. They swam, they rested on the blanket, they swam some more. It was so simple, and yet Aesop's heart was fluttering with absolute contentment. Once they dried themselves, got dressed, vanished the blanket and dropped the wards, they simply apparated back to the little house. The potions master prepared a dinner for them with magic, since they were both starving by the time they arrived.

His sweetheart watched in amazement as some of the various food items she brought over to her new home the previous day floated about, cut themselves up perfectly and arranged themselves around a small baking dish. Chicken legs with roasted vegetables it was. Within just a few seconds, their food was ready, looking amazing and smelling even better. They ate their fill in a comfortable silence until: "You know, this is spectacular, and I'd surely like to learn how to do it," she said quietly, "however, I actually quite enjoy cooking by hand." Aesop chuckled, piercing a baked potato onto his fork: "So do I. Many people do, this is just quick and convenient. And while it tastes alright, you'd be moaning at the taste was I to prepare it by hand," he spoke confidently. His young lover giggled into her food: "You can still make me moan tonight, if you want to."

Aesop very much wanted to.

Later, as they were coming down from their highs, snuggled perfectly in each other's arms, the professor took some time to reflect. He really could not remember the last time he had such an amazing birthday… he tended to even forget he had one, not having celebrated it since that fateful day twelve years ago. But today, despite his sweetheart not knowing that on this day, 45 years ago, Aesop Theodore Sharp took his first breath, she very much made him feel like the birthday boy.

He cuddled up even closer to her, his strong arms squeezing her frame, still hot from their previous activity. His lips found hers in a deep kiss and afterwards, the professor rested his forehead against her own, breathing the same air as her. "I want to thank you…" he said quietly, only for her ears to hear, "this was the best birthday I've had in years."

He could feel her body tensing immediately. "Today's your birthday?" she asked, raising her head to look at him. Her beautiful eyes were wide and filled with panic: "Why didn't you tell me? I don't- I don't even have a present for you." He quickly pulled her up for a kiss, stroking her back in a calming matter. "I haven't celebrated my birthday for a long time... And as for a present - why, you already gave it to me!" His sweetheart fixed him with a curious gaze and Aesop sighed: "To be able to hold you, kiss you, love you… this entire day was the greatest gift I could've asked for. To have your heart in my hands, that is the most precious thing I've ever been given." 

The young woman sighed as well, and wrapped her delicate arms around him, nuzzling into his neck momentarily before raising her head up again, a brilliant smile on her face, a smile of love, devotion and incredible joy: "Still, we should celebrate. You deserve a day to be spoiled rotten!" 

"You are already spoiling me rotten!"

"Hah, I try to, but we should still celebrate. Let me take you to the Three Broomsticks tomorrow for a meal. We can have a good bite, champagne, who knows, perhaps Sirona will be able to get us a cake!"

Aesop chuckled, his cheeks warming up somewhat. It was strange - the idea of actually celebrating his birthday after he hadn't done so for so long. However, as strange as it felt, he could already feel the pleasurable tickling of anticipation. "Alright…" he breathed then, "if you want to. But know that I would've been happy enough to just spend the day in your company." 

His sweetheart fixed him with an intense gaze, her eyes sincere: "I want to. Because I finally can. We spent so much time sneaking around, I long to finally be able to show how I feel openly. I want to grab your hand in mine when we walk together, I yearn to be able to kiss and hold you whenever I wish. And I really want to celebrate that on this day, the most incredible man was born. I don't know what I'd do without you here. Perhaps I wouldn't be here myself, if you hadn't gone to the Astronomy tower that day. You are an exceptionally beautiful existence, Aesop Sharp, and your birthday should be celebrated."

The potions master swallowed heavily, willing away the tears that threatened to form in his eyes. Her confession shook him to his core, and, in that moment, there was nothing he wanted more than to hold her in his arms. Aesop truly did not think he'd ever celebrate his birthday again. Since Ashley's death, he really thought that he wasn't entitled to do so. But perhaps his sweetheart hadn't been entirely wrong. Perhaps him saving her life tipped the scales a little. If Ashley could see him now… well, she'd probably smack his shoulder very hard and tell him to pull his head out of his arse and seize the chance he's been given, like a proper Slytherin would. In that moment, he felt a sense of peace wash over him, and his breathing slowly evened out.

"Alright, my sweet," he said only, as her face once more nuzzled into his shoulder, more than content to stay there. Aesop breathed out slowly, his arms wrapping around the young woman's body in a protective manner.

The room was dark and Aesop could hear sounds of the village outside falling asleep. He could hear faint music coming from the Three Broomsticks, and he heard silent voices caught in a conversations, as their owners passed by the little house. The air smelled sweet with the sun having warmed it the entire day. Aesop closed his eyes, basking in the feeling of love, of comfort.

The next day, his sweetheart did exactly as she promised. She walked with him into the Three Broomsticks, hand in hand, looking proud and happy. She kissed him out in the open, before they even opened the door to the pub, absolutely uncaring to whoever saw them. The look she gave him afterwards… Aesop realised that she did want to do that for some time. That the fact that she was his own filled her with pride. That the young woman, who defeated a troll during the first week of her studies, willingly gave her heart to one ex-Auror potions professor. In a moment of giddy madness, Aesop grabbed her around the waist, dipped her ever so slightly, and snogged the living daylights out of her.

"Are you quite done? Your stew's getting cold," came the voice of Sirona Ryan, who was leaning against the doorframe with a mischievous look in her eyes. Aesop fixed his sweetheart with a curious look. 

"I may have written to professor Hecat to ask what's your favourite food when you were still sleeping," she admitted with a shy smile, "and I also may have written to Sirona, asking her to prepare it for you, as well as get us a cake afterwards." Sirona watched the scene unfold before her eyes, a big smile on her face: "Happy birthday, Professor Sharp." "Thank you, Sirona." 

It truly seemed his life was to be filled with strong-willed and strong-minded women. He was quite the lucky man.

July 1st 1908 

It was morning in the Sharp household and a summer breeze gently blew through the open window of Mr and Mrs Sharp's bedroom. The gentle sound of birds chirping could be heard but didn't wake the occupants of the bedroom, currently soundly asleep in each other's arms. A sound did manage to rouse Mrs Sharp though. The pitter patter of little feet and the creaking of floorboards. 

Someone was awake. Actually, judging by the sound of it, more than one of the children was on the move. She knew the children had been looking forward to surprising their father with breakfast in bed for his birthday, but she hadn't managed to piece together much more than that. She didn't know what they were planning to prepare, and thought it would probably be best if she made her way downstairs to assist or, at the very least, supervise.

As gently as she could, she tried to extricate herself from her husband's grip without waking him up. It was still early and she wanted to let him sleep for a little bit. Aesop had other plans though, having been woken by his wife's feeble attempt at leaving their shared bed. 

"Where do you think you're going, darling?"

He pulled her towards him and held her close, her back completely flush against his front. She could feel his morning arousal as he kissed her neck. 

"You weren't just going to leave me to wake up by myself, today of all days."

He continued gently nipping at her neck, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on her skin. With a sigh, she melted into his embrace and he took the opportunity to gently turn her on her back, moving his hands along her body and moving his kisses to her collarbones, her body semi-trapped underneath his large frame.

It had taken some number of years, but eventually (F/N) had managed to convince her husband that his birthday was a day that deserved to be celebrated, and he eventually got to enjoy being the center of attention for just this one day a year. Perhaps a little too much at times! It seemed as though he was already quite eager to unwrap his birthday present from her.

This morning, though, as much as she enjoyed the way his kisses and touch were slowly lighting her body on fire, as much as she wanted to give in and give him what he wanted, what they both wanted, she knew she needed to make her way downstairs, before their children would have the chance to set fire to the kitchen. However the feeling of her husband's very experienced hands making their way towards her more sensitive areas, the knowledge that his mouth would soon follow, was enough to make her momentarily forget about the possible disaster that she would find downstairs should she choose to indulge her husband.

"Aesop I-"

"Hmmm"

Aesop knew what he was doing. He trailed kisses down her abdomen and she knew then and there that she had lost the battle. She'd deal with the chaos later. Right now there was only one person that existed in the world and that person was about to…

CLANG!

The loud sound coming from the kitchen put an instant end to the couple's morning's activities, their arousal instantly replaced with concern. Concern for the structural integrity of their home, as well as the safety of its occupants. Aesop begrudgingly made his way back up to the head of the bed.

"I should go investigate that."

"Probably a good idea. Let's go see what the rascals are up to now."

"YOU are going to stay right here, sir, and act surprised when the children bring you whatever it is they planned on making you for your birthday breakfast. I will go downstairs and make sure we still have a house by the time they're done."

Aesop gave her a mock pout as his wife quickly got herself dressed for the morning.

"Don't worry, love. I'll make sure you get to unwrap your birthday present… after the rascals are in bed."

One quick kiss from his wife before she swiftly left the room and quietly closed the door.

Aesop heard his older son speak right outside the bedroom door, he had probably been on the way to ask for his mother's help with whatever it was the children had planned.

"Is he still asleep, Mum?"

His wife whispered

"Still sound asleep, dear."

"Brilliant!"

"Shhhhhh"

Eleazar lowered his voice

"Right. Quiet"

"Let's get downstairs"

Down they went and Aesop was left with his thoughts. He could hear the faint buzzing of his family in the kitchen, his wife no doubt deferring to their children's plans for his breakfast and letting them do as much as they were able to manage on their own. He remembered his birthday breakfast in bed from the previous year with fondness. A half burnt over-salted omelet along with biscuits (slightly undercooked), tea (weak) and a bowl of strawberries he ended up having to surrender to his 3 year old twins. It had been quite unpalatable, but seeing the pride in his children's eyes when they had told him they had cooked everything themselves had made the meal the best birthday breakfast he had ever had. He knew the children would outdo themselves this year.

He had been a father for a whole decade by now, but sometimes he still couldn't believe that the rambunctious bunch that was currently being supervised by his darling wife, those four bundles of joy and chaos, were his. That this was his life now. He had known as a young man that he wanted children and had given up on this dream at one point of his life. He had never expected though, that he could love these four little people as much as he did.

He was pulled out of his reverie by the smell of bacon. Wonderful, he thought, one can only mess up bacon so much! He knew his family would enter the bedroom any minute now to “wake him up” so Aesop laid down on his side of the bed, turned away from the door and closed his eyes. He heard the door creak open.

“He’s still sleeping”

“Shhhhh”

“Wait, no we need to wake him up!”

“I can do it!”

“Alright dear but be gentle”

“Okay Mum”

“Thedodore don’t jump on-”

Aesop felt the bed dip and braced himself for what he was sure was an incoming tackle from a rambunctious four year old.

“Hmphhh”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!”

“My birthday isn’t until next week Theodore”

The boy stood up and looked at his mother in confusion

“He’s just pulling your leg, dear”

“That’s right, I’m just” Aesop physically tugged at his son’s legs, causing him to land flat on his back on the soft bed and dissolve in a fit of giggles “messing with you!”

The former professor looked at his family. Everyone was still in their pajamas, some of his children's clothes bearing the proof of their efforts in making his breakfast, little spots of dried batter the most evident. Both his daughters' hair were still in the braids he had woven the previous evening, now with stray strands sticking out in odd directions from their slumber. Theodore obviously hadn't brushed his hair yet, while Eleazar looked as put together as he usually did, wearing a light dressing gown and bearing the least bits of Aesop's breakfast on his clothes. He caught his wife's eyes - they were shining with pride. She was, of course, completely clean, her silky dressing gown as pristine as it had been before she left the bedroom. 

Four pairs of his own brown eyes stared up at him with excitement and anticipation, and Aesop felt his heart swell when he saw the perfect mix of himself and his wife in each of their beautiful children.

Maggie approached her father with a tray.

“We made you breakfast in bed!”

Aesop took a look at the tray from his daughter and from what he could see, the children HAD outdone themselves. He was right about the bacon, there were also scrambled eggs, pancakes, a lovely fruit salad, a cup of tea, and a small bowl filled with chocolate chips. 

“I cooked the eggs and the bacon and I tried to flip the first pancake, but it didn’t turn out nice, so we tossed it, then Mum helped me make the second one but the one on top I did all by myself!”

“That’s wonderful Maggs.”

“And (F/N) and Theo were in charge of mixing the fruit salad and filling the chocolate chips.” 

“That salad looks expertly mixed, thank you. Eleazar, what did you do to help?”

“I measured out everything for the pancake batter AND I brewed the tea. I even used the scales like you taught me!” 

Eleazar spoke with great pride. Last year his father had started to teach him the basics of potionmaking and the lad had taken to the craft like a fish to water. Aesop took a sip of his tea.

“That’s some very good tea, Thank you Eleazar”

The boy beamed.

The twins each sat on one side of him and Aesop made sure to grab himself a handful of chocolate chips before the inevitable happened and he’d have to surrender the sweets to his youngest children. 

“Alright, everyone, let’s let Dad eat his breakfast in peace now. Then we can all have fun. Shop’s closed today so we get to keep Dad all to ourselves for the day.”

(F/N) herded the children out of the bedroom and handed Aesop what was left of his little bowl of sweets. 

“Enjoy your food, darling, I’ll get the little ones dressed then we can do whatever it is you’d like.”

She gave him a kiss before leaving the room. Aesop was pleased to find out that everything had been seasoned well this year, most likely due to Eleazar’s precise measurement of ingredients. Once his breakfast had been eaten, Aesop got dressed and did his morning hygiene before joining his family downstairs, empty tray in hand. The weather seemed nice, perhaps they could go to the beach for a picnic and a swim.

The potions master walked into the kitchen, which actually bore less signs of the breakfast preparation than his children's clothes did. No doubt his wife's prompt work with a wand. His eyes were caught by the sight of many moving photographs displayed on a shelf. Aesop stopped for a moment, looking at the pictures fondly. The photo with Ashley taken 28 years ago on this very day was proudly standing among other happy photos. There was a picture of him and his wife on their wedding day, grinning at each other,  both looking incredible as well as incredibly in love. His sweetheart still looked at him this way, even 12 years after that beautiful June day, and he knew he did as well. There were the newer pictures, his children at various ages, from mere babies and toddlers, to a very recent photo of Maggie holding a very fluffy Puffskein. And then, there were some older ones, too. A moving photo of young Aesop, taken the day he got into the Auror program, looking proud and confident, as well as a single completely still photo of his dear wife, taken by a Muggle camera.

Aesop deposited the tray into the sink and with a flick of his wand, the dishes got to cleaning themselves. His wife walked towards him and put her arms around his abdomen, pressing herself against his back.

“You’re not supposed to be doing any dishes today.”

“It’s nothing, besides you already have your hands full with the children.”

“They can take care of themselves… mostly.”

Aesop turned around to face his wife. They had circled the sun many times together but she still looked as young and beautiful as the day he married her.

“I was thinking I’d like to take everyone to the coast for lunch, let the children play in the water.”

“Only the children?”

“I suppose we could also go for a dip, for old time’s sake.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

He leaned in and captured her lips in a quick kiss, before being interrupted by Maggie and Eleazar. 

"Dad, how old are you turning?" Aesop decided not to volunteer that information. The former teacher in him made him want to make his children work for the answer.

"Well let's see. I was born in the year 1848 and this is the year 1908."

The children to looked at their mother "Don't look at me, you know how to subtract."

The two eldest rushed to find the nearest quill and parchment and got to work, eager to get an answer to their burning question. 

Aesop let out a sigh. He was hitting a milestone today. "Oh come on, dear. If it makes you feel any better you don't look a day over fifty."

Aesop chuckled and pulled his wife close. "Thank you. It's strange, though. I don't feel old. Merlin knows I feel better now than I did for most of my thirties. My life significantly improved in my forties"

“I wonder what happened then”

“I met this incredible woman, you see, got to know her, fell in love with her, somehow she decided she’d entrust her heart to me. Sometimes I still don’t understand what she saw in an old cripple but - don’t give me that look, that’s what I was at the time - in any case, loving her was what turned my life around for the better. And now we have these incredible-”

“SIXTY!”

Both parents chuckled. “Well done, you two.” “That’s… six times as old as I am!” “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that Magdala Dinah Sharp”

Later that day, the family of six found themselves at the beach, all four children playing in the water, both older siblings keeping an eye on the younger children whose swimwear had been enchanted to keep them afloat. Aesop and (F/N) sat on a blanket basking in the sunlight and taking in the scene.

The gentle rocking of waves filled the air around with a soft fizzing sound, broken by the cries of seagulls. Aesop could hear other birds singing from somewhere behind them in the trees. The sounds of nature combined with the giddy squeals and chattering of his children was like a symphony of absolute peace in Aesop's ears. He looked at his beloved, and saw her eyes reflecting the same utter contentment that was held in his own.

A thought crossed Aesop's mind and with a mischievous smile, he whispered in his wife’s ear “I’ll bet you a kiss I can beat you to the water”

She looked at him, her smile matching his own “Hmm I don't know… I wouldn't want to make you look bad on your birthday” she teased, but standing up as to indicate she accepted his challenge "We'll see about that…" the potions master teased back

The children watched with amusement as both their parents suddenly broke into a full blown sprint towards the sea when suddenly a faint “pop” was heard and Aesop disappeared, immediately appearing in the water, a few meters behind the children.

“You cheat!”

“We never said apparition wasn’t allowed” Aesop swam over to the children who were all giggling. (F/N) finished making her way towards the water before taking a few steps in. Once she was able to, she dove in and swam over to meet the rest of the family.

“I’ll be claiming that kiss now”

“You cheated. I think that kiss is mine to claim”

“As you wish”

Aesop made his way over to his wife, gently kissed her lips before moving around her and wrapping his arms around her waist, both of them watching the children resume their play, Eleazar and Maggie having apparently decided on a little swimming race of their own as the twins tried to keep up.

“Thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

“For today. For every day we get to spend together.”

A few days from then, Aesop and (F/N) would celebrate his birthday once more, sans children, in a private room at the Three Broomsticks surrounded by their close friends. Today, though, Aesop couldn’t imagine spending the day in better company. 

Years had passed since the incident that took his partner’s life and nearly took his own. Years had passed since the simple task of making it through the day appeared monumental. Years had passed since he had made the decision that another circle around the sun wasn’t something to celebrate but rather something to feel guilt over. Today however, he felt nothing but gratitude for those who had pulled him out of the abyss where he once dwelled, who had patiently walked beside him, and who had lifted him higher than he ever thought possible, so high, in fact, he swore he could touch the stars.

Fin.

@aesopsharpmybeloved: I'd like to thank everyone who took the time to read this story, and I'd especially like to thank @tea-withjamandbread who wrote with me. Being able to read the wonderful words she used and build this story (that I frankly love and will re-read many times myself) has meant so much to me and brought me a lot of joy. To everything we'll yet create together! <3 -Tess

This story is also be available on AO3. We'll be very grateful for any feedback!

Some Like It Sharp

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

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

EDIT: I MANAGED TO ADD SOME VOICELINES ON AO3

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

Some Like It Sharp 

(8.6k words)

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

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

Keep reading

Patched Up

Aesop Sharp x Fem! Student! Reader

Tags: Minor injuries. 

Word Count: 2.2k

“I won’t keep you any longer.”

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

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

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

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

Keep reading

Patched Up

Aesop Sharp x Fem! Student! Reader

Tags: Minor injuries. 

Word Count: 2.2k

“I won’t keep you any longer.”

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

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

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

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

Keep reading

Masterlist

Severus Snape

"Has It Ever Crossed Your Brilliant Mind That I Don't Want To Do This Anymore?"

The Excruciating Pain of Falling in Love- Part 1 [Dark. 18+] ONGOING

Summer Rainstorms- Here [Drabble. 18+]

A Million Little Things That Make You Smile- Here [Fluff.Drabble.]

Black Ice- Here [Soft]

Drunken Words- Here [Fade to black. SFW]

Midnight Lovers- Here [NSFW]

Complacent- Here [Angst-ish]

Witches Brew- Here [Standalone. Might expand on it later]

Foolish after all- Here [Drabble. To be rewritten]

The Stories we Tell- Here [Previously titled Books. Request.]

When I'm with You- Here [Request]

The Warmth of the Sun- Part 1. Part 2. [Slow Updates.] ONGOING

What We Hold Dear To Us- Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. [Poly Severus|Reader|Remus. POV changes. NSFW.] ONGOING

What Echoes Around Us- Here [Mentions blood and death]

Sinners and Saints- Here [NSFW. Drabble]

Words, Unspoken- Here [Angsty, Slow. Open Ending]

Aesop Sharp

"After All, Shortcuts Only Ever Lead to Short Comings."

Tiger Balm and Other Ways to Heal the Pain- Here [Drabble. Low Angst]

We Hold Hands Under the Table- Here [Short. Hints at Smut. Fluff.]

Requested Slytherin!Student x Aesop- Here [Platonic.Drabble.]

Tranquility- Here [Drabble. Low Angst]

Requested Reader x Aesop -Here [Fluff.]

A Taste of Honey- Here [Student!Reader. Low Angst. Can be read as a standalone.]

A Touch of Moonlight- Here [Sequel to AToH. Smut.]

The Bitter Taste of Dittany- Part One, Part Two, Part three [Angst. Fluff. Smut]

Heat of the Moon- Here [Smut]

Sweet Ambitions- Here [Fluff. Drabble]

Of Oil and Linen- Here

The Violet Hour- Here [Smut. Vampire reader]

Nocturnity- Here [Smut. continuation of the violet hour]

Aesop reacts to mc sacrificing their ancient magic- Here [Drabble.]

Breath- Here [Drabble]

Fervor- Here [Drabble]

A study in desirables- Here [Drabble. Smut]

Request- Here [Fighting. Fluff. A bit of Angst]

Untitled- Here [Fluff. Flirty Aesop]

Fred Weasley

'Where's The Fun Without A Bit Of Risk?"

Lovers in a Lie- Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7. Part 8. Part 9. Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Part 13. Part 14. ONGOING SLOW UPDATES. [Smut. Fluff. Idiots in love.]

The Bitter Taste of Dittany

Aesop Sharp x Reader

18+

You were his favorite student, destined for great things. But one day you disappeared off the face of the planet, only to reemerge six years later to sit in for Professor Garlick.

AN: Here it is, the first part of three. All 12691 words of it. I was hesitant to put this up because I am not good at continuing things. but anyways this took me like 4 days to write. 2 of those were all day writing marathons. I will now be continuing on the second half of this. Wish me luck. Tag list: @misswildfire @theboesgirl

Aesop used to think that if perhaps he had paid a little more attention, if he had noticed just how much you were hurting, then he could have convinced you to stay. But he hadn't and so you left, halfway through your sixth year. One day you were there, the next rumors of you dropping out spread until they reached the doors of his classroom. He was surprised to hear of it. You had been doing just fine, there had been nothing to warn him of your impending departure.

It seemed that no one knew, Ominis Gaunt and Poppy Sweeting had cornered him, asking questions he just didn't have the answer to. Where had you gone? Why had you left?

When Aesop asked why they thought that he would have any clue on what was going on, it was Poppy that gave him a look of incredulity.

"Professor, she spent all her time here. With you."

It seems that if anyone was to know why you would have left, it was supposed to have been him. How terrible he felt in that moment, realizing too late why you had taken to spending as much time as possible in his classroom, in his presence.

In him, had you found some sort of comfort, some sort of mentor or father figure that you had been missing in your life, now more than ever since having lost Professor Fig? In him were you trying to find what you had lost with Fig? How was he supposed to know when you refused to tell him? When you had closed yourself off and refused to let anyone in?

How he had wished in that moment that he could have all the answers, that he could look into Poppy's expectant eyes and tell her anything. He wished he knew where you were, if you were safe, if you were even alive.

But he had none of that, and all he could do was tell them he would look into it, would speak to the Headmaster and try to find out before sending them on their way.

No one had any answers. No one knew what happened, why'd you left. You just folded your uniform on top of your bed and simply vanished not long after your Eighteenth birthday.

He heard how your friends had organized a search party, how there were posters being put up all over the towns surrounding Hogwarts. Soon enough that turned into a Vigil in the center of Hogsmeade. It was easier, it seemed, to mourn a loss than believe that you had simply decided to disappear. People craved relief, they didn't want to carry around pain.

He had been there, though he didn't believe for a single moment that you were dead. You couldn't be. He'd seen the magic you wielded, the strength of your very soul. You, who used to slip out of the school grounds in the dead of night to rid the forest of Poachers seemingly for fun, dead? It was a preposterous thought. You were too young, too smart to let death trap you. But he still showed up, and he told himself it was in solidarity, in support of all those that you had left behind. However he knew that the real reason he stood in the middle of Hogsmeade that Winter night was because he wanted closure. He wanted to stop feeling guilty for your disappearance, for not noticing the signs, for not being able to help you.

That same night he had ripped one of your poster's off the side of The Three Broomsticks, and had folded it up until he could no longer and stuck it deep in the back of his desk.

He had intended to forget about it, to move on and let time heal the wound that you left him with, the one that caused more pain than the curse on his leg did.

Time supposedly heals all wounds, but as the years passed, as your friends graduated and left and new students came and went, as the world slowly kept going, he was left with an incurable ache deep inside him. It wasn't constant, it wasn't strong but it was always there. He could never seem to let go, could never seem to want to forget. It just was.

Then, six years later Phineas Nigellus Black stands at the podium, telling the students that Professor Garlick has taken her Maternity leave and there was to be a temporary Professor for Herbology.

This, he already knew. What Aesop could never have come to anticipate was the name that came out of his mouth.

Your name.

A name he's been so diligently avoiding, suppressing.

In that moment, as you stand from the opposite side of the High Table and nod at the sea of students, he feels that pain he's been carrying for so long coalesce with a sudden wave of anger until he's physically shaking, his hand gripping the table so hard that he felt splinters bite into his palm.

How dare you? How dare you waltz back in after all this time? After all the people you hurt, you abandoned without an explanation, how could you be so bold as to show your face as if nothing had happened?

Aesop barely makes it through the whole meal, his food untouched as he lets his mind work itself through every emotion known to man. He's hyper aware of your presence, of the way you simply sit there, your food going cold as you stare at it.

The minute the meal is over and students begin to leave he stands, uncaring of the way his chair scrapes against the floor. He's beyond angry as he makes his way towards you, his hands shaking even as he rolls them into fists. There's a part of him that wants to hurt you like you hurt him. He wants to gather every single second he spent mourning your loss, wants to turn it into fuel and somehow cause you just as much pain.

However, the moment his hand comes down on your shoulder, and the touch ignites his skin in a way that he wasn't prepared for, he finds that he can't follow through with that anger. Then you turn to look at him and he feels like he's going to be sick.

It's as if his body is fighting itself. One part of him is still holding onto that anger, while the other is struggling to come to terms that you are truly here. That you're alive and well and finally, finally back.

He's unsure of what to say, of what to do. He can't keep staring at you forever, even though it's all he seems to want to do.

"Let go of me." you say, and suddenly his anger wins.

His voice is a measure of control as his fingers unhook themselves from your coat. "You owe me an explanation, coming back here as if nothing ever happened."

For a second there's a flash of pain in your eyes, but its gone so fast that he's sure that he's imagined it.

"What entitlement. I don't owe you anything." The way you say it, with so much venom and contempt makes Aesop feel like he's been stabbed in the chest.

"Do you know what I've been through all these years? What pain you've caused?"

Your mouth twists down into a frown and its then that he notices the scar that cuts through your lips and across the right of your jaw. "I don't care what you've been through," you say coldly and Aesop feels like you've stabbed him through the chest.

The person sitting in front of him might have your face but she is not you. He lets you stand, lets you walk past him without another word.

Aesop wonders if perhaps you had died after all.

He decides that it's best if he goes straight to his room, the thought of stepping foot inside his classroom and having the possibility of being reminded of the person you once were is too much for him.

Right now he can deal with the anger, with the pain, but the difference between the person that you were in his memories and the woman he had just talked too are too different for him to try to bridge the gap.

That ache in his heart that he had managed to control is suddenly too much for him to bare. It sinks into his bones and forces him to struggle with every step he takes. It makes him tired, makes him want to just find his bed and sleep. He wants to wake up and find you smiling at him like you used to, blabbering on and on with questions that sunk into the deepest layer of his skin and made him wish that he could somehow create a charm that would shut you up.

He wants to wake up and find himself six years younger, realizing that the reason you had stopped trying wasn't because you were a rebelling teen, but because you had given up on life itself.

He could see the signs now, could see the many ways he could have reached out and helped and prevented you from turning into the person he had just met.

What good does it do to dwell on what could have been? Aesop thinks to himself as he reaches the top of the stairs. He doesn't expect to find you there, standing at the door besides the one that leads to his own private quarters, talking to Black.

The conversation between the both of you stops as his eyes meet yours. There's a coldness to them that has him looking away as he limps towards his room. He thinks that perhaps this is the world taunting him, giving you the room besides his.

He unlocks the door with shaky hands, wondering if he's imagining the fact that he can still feel your eyes on his, even as he shuts the door behind himself.

The walls of the faculty tower are almost paper thin, and Aesop can hear every single noise you make.

It keeps him awake, lying in the dark of the night.

He heard you enter your room not long after he did, he heard the lock on your luggage open, heard you sink into your bed.

He tried to ignore it, thought about casting the Muffliato Charm against the wall separating the rooms and was about to do it, his wand in his hand until he heard you start to cry.

For some reason he has the sudden need to press his ear against the wall, to really make sure that what he hears is true. He has enough self control not to.

He just stands there, in the middle of his bedroom, listening to the wet hiccupping noises you make.

"I'm scared." you whisper, almost as if you're talking to someone. "I don't know if I can do this."

Aesop waits for someone to answer, for someone to tell you that its okay, that you're okay. But no one does and he thinks that maybe he should have been the one to say so. But it's too late. He hears you sniff a few times, then absolute silence.

For a few minutes Aesop simply stands there, wondering if maybe the ice in your heart is simply a wall you've put up, a façade to protect yourself from the world.

As he crawls into bed, he can't help but think that perhaps he's not too late. That perhaps this isn't a punishment, but a way to finally be able to hold his hand out to you.

This time, he wouldn't let you slip away.

You have nightmares.

Ones that have you mumbling incoherently, one's that wake you up at ungodly hours of the night gasping and begging for it to stop. The first time he noticed one he had been awake grading papers, his desk pressed against the wall separating your room from his.

It had scared him, had him worried that something was going on in there as you began whimpering, began to make tiny pained noises. But then it stopped, and he found himself unable to go back to his work.

You were still distant, even as the weeks passed and he tried his best to be kind to you. Some days were better than others. There were times when he would look at you and find himself back at Hogsmeade, standing in that candlelight vigil, watching as your friends mourned you. Those days he found that it was best to stay as far away from you as possible.

He was still angry, still wanted you to explain yourself.

Then there were days when he looked at you, looked at the bruising under your eyes and the way you almost cowered into yourself and he knew that you also had your own pain you were struggling with. You had to have had your reasons for leaving, he just wished you would talk to him.

Rarely, there were days when he could just about make out the girl that you had been in your fifth year. Those days your nightmares would be violent.

You would cry, you would beg for it to stop, then when you woke you would leave your room and he had a suspicion you stayed out all night, too scared to go back to sleep, to be alone.

Tonight was one of those nights, and tonight he refused to let you be alone.

He doesn't know why he decided that following you was somehow the better idea. It would have been so simple to knock at your door and talk to you. But he's convinced himself that if he found out where it was that you ran off to then everything would simply come into place. That somehow it would help him better understand you.

He's silent as he follows you all the way down to the Library Annex, his leg screaming in protest at the way he forces himself not to lose sight of you. But it's getting harder and harder to keep up with you as his leg tenses, as the pain becomes unbearable. So when you turn a corner to quickly he curses under his breath and tries to follow before you get too far away.

He should have known that you were aware of his presence, but he's caught off guard when you suddenly push him against the wall the minute he turns down the same hallway. You're strong, the action knocking the air from his lungs.

"What are you doing?" you hiss, and he can see the swelling around your eyes, the red underneath them as if you've been wiping at them with too much force. The scar on your mouth looks agitated, like it isn't quite done healing. "Why are you following me?"

Aesop thinks that it's incredibly odd how at one point you had been his student. Small, vulnerable, and always looking up to him for guidance. And now, you were towering over him, your voice sharp and your eyes challenging, your hands wrapped tightly around the front of his shirt, holding him in place. "I wanted to make sure you're okay," he says, trying to keep his voice level.

"You think following me around like some sort of stalker is somehow going to make me okay?"

He brings his hands to yours, trying to force them off of him, that same burning sensation from the first time he touched you sets his nerves on fire, makes him feel like he's being electrocuted. But you don't let go, instead, you tighten your grip, and for a moment, Aesop feels like he's trapped, unable to move or breathe.

"Let go of me," he says firmly, trying to sound authoritative but his voice comes out shaky.

You don't release him, but let your grip loosen just a bit, and you lean in closer, your voice low and dangerous. "Whatever it is you think you're going to fix, whatever you have convinced yourself you can do, just stop."

He's so tired of you. Tired of your anger, of the way you push him away. His hands grip your wrist tightly and he doesn't care that you wince, that you finally let go of him. He wants you to hurt, he wants you to feel what he's feeling. "You abandoned everyone." he growls, "You left your friends, let them worry about you. They thought you were dead, that something had happened to you."

He finds the ache in his heart and zips it open, lets it consume him. "They searched for you. Poppy, Ominis, Natsai, Sebastian, Amit. Do they mean anything to you, you selfish brat? Did you even care about how they felt?" You're struggling, trying to pull your wrists free from his hold but he tightens his grip, ignores the whimper of pain you let out. "Six years." he says, his voice raising. "Six fucking years I mourned you, and you think you get to show up again and act like you didn't destroy my life?"

You keep struggling and he pulls you closer, your hands pressed tightly against his chest, your face so close to his that his nose brushes against yours. This close he can see the way your pupils are blown wide in fear.

For a moment, Aesop sees his reflection in your eyes, the anger and pain twisting his features into something unrecognizable. He hates himself for it, hates that he's causing you this much pain. But he can't stop, not when he's so close to finally getting the answers he's been searching for.

"You don't get to run away from this," he says, his voice low and harsh. "You owe me an explanation."

You're still struggling, but he doesn't let go, doesn't loosen his grip on you. His heart is racing in his chest, the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He wants to know what happened to you, wants to understand why you left without a word. But most of all, he wants you to feel his pain, to understand just how much he's suffered without you.

He doesn't know how long they stand there, locked in that tense embrace, but eventually you open your mouth and speak.

"You have no idea what I went through, what sort of pain I was dealing with."

Aesop's grip on your wrists loosens slightly, but he doesn't let go. "Then tell me," he says, his voice softer now, the anger replaced by a hint of desperation. "Please, just tell me."

Finally, it seems that he got through to you, your walls coming down just enough so that he can see the tiredness in your eyes, the pain you've been carrying all these years.

"No one cared that I was sixteen, that I was a child. They just placed a wand in my hand and told me to kill." Your eyes begin to well up and Aesop feels a pang of guilt in his chest. "They told me that no one else could do it, that it was my responsibility. Stop the Rebellion, save the world. But at what cost? Why did I have to sacrifice everything? Why did no one stand by me? I was so scared."

Aesop finally lets you go, lets you move away from him. He sees the bruises forming around your wrists, and he feels a wave of shame wash over him. You had suffered through so much, and here he was, forcing you to live through it all in order for him to satisfy his own selfish needs. It's too late now to tell you to stop, to tell you that you don't have to tell him.

Your tears are falling as you touch your wrists, taking a step away from him. "No one cared how many lives I was forced to take. They didn't care that they were sending me on a path that could have taken my own life. Because they didn't see me as the terrified girl that I was, they just saw the magic I could wield and somehow that made me their hero. The one they could manipulate into doing their bidding. Otherwise it would be my fault that Wizardkind fell."

You're starting to hyperventilate, slipping into your memories. "The one person that was there for me, the only one who seemed to care died because of me. I couldn't save the one person that truly mattered to me."

Aesop knows that you're talking about Fig, but right now, he can't bring himself to say anything. He feels like he's suffocating, like he's the one who's trapped in a nightmare. He watches you as you break down in front of him, your body shaking with sobs.

"Then I was just expected to move on, to live as if none of that had ever happened. But I couldn't. I couldn't forget, I couldn't stay anymore. I could see all the people I killed, all the things I was forced to endure. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't escape the nightmares." You're wiping at your face with the heel of your hand, and slowly Aesop reaches out, pulling your hands down before you rub your skin raw.

"I'm sorry I hurt you, that I hurt everyone." you whisper, your voice cracking. "I just couldn't take it anymore. I wanted to disappear. In that moment I wanted so badly to die and get rid of the pain. I tried. I tried to do it but-." your voice breaks and you cover your face with your hands, letting out a sob.

Aesop feels his heart break as he takes you into your arms, his hand coming to rest at the back of your neck, holding him against him.

He had no idea what sort of pain you have been carrying, what sort of trauma you had endured. To suddenly have you tell him that you had considered taking your own life, that you went as far as to attempt to, it made him feel like someone had cast Crucio against him. "I'm sorry," he whispers against the side of your head, slowly rubbing circles against your back. "I'm sorry you had to go through all this alone, that you felt like you couldn't come to anyone for help. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you... that I didn't see how much pain you've been suffering through."

He feels your hands grab at him, pulling him closer as you sniff and let out a shaky breath. He feels that electricity again as you lift your head and your cheek rubs against the stubble on his own. "I don't want you to apologize." you say in a small voice. "You didn't know. And I didn't know how to ask for help. I didn't even realize how much I needed it until it was almost too late."

Aesop lets his forehead fall against yours, lets that current of painful warmth that seeps from your skin burn him if it means he can touch you for a second more. In that moment, with his arms wrapped around yours and your fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, he feels the overwhelming need to kiss you, to seal himself to you.

Instead he closes his eyes and holds you there against him.

"You don't have to be alone," he whispers against your skin. "Let me be here for you. Let me help you carry that pain."

Aesop wonders, as you sit across from him in his study, if perhaps he had managed to break down your walls that night. Or if, like him, you also felt that almost suffocating need to be around him, to feel his presence, to breathe the same air as him.

He wasn't sure what happened to him that night. Why he was suddenly wracked with the need to see you, to touch you, to feel your arms wrapped around him. That night alone with you in the corridor had awoken something in him, a part of him that had been laying dormant all these years, waiting until the moment you would return and set it aflame.

It terrified him at the same time it excited him. It was as if he was seeing you in a new light, discovering facets of your personality that he had never noticed before.

Gone was the child that would sit in his class, soaking up all that he could give her. The woman that now sat across from him was hardened from life, reclusive, yet he could see in your eyes that underneath the pain you carried, underneath the cold front you put up to keep people away; there was still the same warmth, the same kindhearted soul that wouldn't think twice about helping someone in need.

You never deserved to be thrust into the chaos of war at such a young age. You should have been protected, not expected to save the world. You were forced to grow up fast, to face the harsh realities of life and death, to make difficult decisions that no child should ever have to make.

Thinking about it now, did you perhaps clear the Forest of poachers because you wanted to? Or did you feel an obligation to do so, knowing that no one else would do a thing?

Aesop looks at you, looks at the way that you sit so rigidly in the chair across from his, and wonders if perhaps the people around you were to blame for you having dropped of the face of the Earth. Did they ask too much of you? Did he himself ask too much of you? He had always seen your potential, your bravery, your intelligence. He had pushed you to be your best, to strive for greatness. But had he also unknowingly burdened you with too much?

What he would give, to go back in time and undo some of the damage he had caused. He had always prided himself on being a wise and experienced teacher, but looking at you now, he couldn't help but wonder if he had failed you in some way. If he had been too focused on your potential and not enough on your well-being.

He remembers seeing you fight Ranrok in the catacombs of the school, remembers how they all had stood there watching, waiting for you to bring down the evil that threatened them all. No one had lifted their wand, no one had ran to your side to help.

Sure, you possessed a power that was rare and remarkable, but that didn't mean you should have been left to face such a dangerous foe alone.

If he had raised his wand, if he had stood besides you then, would you still have abandoned everyone? Abandoned him?

With a slow shake of his head, Aesop pulls himself from his thoughts. Pushing away the memories before he slips too far into them. He needs to focus on the now, on the fact that you're sitting here in front of him, waiting for him to speak.

He wants to reach across his desk and take your hands in his, instead he leans his elbows on the table and sets his chin on his hands. He knows that if he's not careful he could end up losing you. He had to pace himself, let you be the one to reach across the metaphorical table for him.

So he smiles at you, pushes the way you make his heartbeat faster to the back of his mind and focuses on being professional, focuses on the list of ingredients he needs you to grow for him.

He almost forgot that this was temporary. That one day Mirabel was going to return and you would have to leave and he would never see you again. He had convinced himself that this was forever, that he finally had you back and there was nothing that would take you away from him.

But reality is cruel.

Mirabel sits across from you in the room, holding her baby in her arms. She's all smiles, talking to you and Matilda. He should be happy for her, should go over and congratulate her but his eyes are glued onto you. You're smiling but he can tell its forced, can see the way your hand grips your arm under the table, your nails digging into the fabric of you sleeve.

Aesop knows that you understand what this means, that you know that your time here was coming to an end. He stands, casually makes his way to the empty seat next to you. This close he can hear Mirabel thank you for taking her place, for making sure that the students still had a teacher while she had to be away.

"Oh, I just can't wait to come back!" She says with so much excitement.

Aesop makes sure that when he reaches for you, that when his hand finds yours under the table and his fingers gently pry yours open, its a subtle gesture only you would notice. He doesn't say anything, doesn't need to. You both know what's happening, what's about to come. His thumb strokes the back of your hand, promising not to let you go, not to let you face this alone.

You don't look at him but your fingers squeeze his and he can feel the tension in your grip, the uncertainty in your touch. He knows you're scared. He wishes he could make it all go away, make it so that you could stay here forever with him.

"When will you be coming back?" you ask softly and your grip tightens, almost as if you're using him to fuel your strength.

Mirabel looks from her baby to you, her smile growing. "Sirona managed to find someone willing to run the bar with her, so she's taking up the responsibility of caring for the baby. I should be back by the end of the month."

Under the table you let go of his hand, smiling at Mirabel. "I'm sure your students are going to be so excited to have you back."

Aesop feels like he's the only one not smiling in the room, the only one that can feel the sadness that radiates off of you. He wants to protest, to tell Mirabel that he's not ready for you to leave yet, but he knows he can't. He nods along with the conversation, trying to push down the feeling of dread that's creeping up on him.

But the baby begins to cry and Mirabel gives a sheepish smile, saying that its time for her to go. Everyone stands, wishes her safe travels. Aesop lingers in the back of the room, wanting to talk to you. But you're standing by the door, holding one of Mirabel's hand in yours. He wonders why you torture yourself so much, why you don't seem to ever be selfish.

You just take the pain with a smile, leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. He wants to be mad, truly. But who is there to be mad at? It's not Mirabel's fault, it's not yours. This is just how the world works, and he knows that all too well.

He takes a step towards you, but Phineas gets to you first. "Let's head on up to my office, there's no need to wait until the end of the month to start on your transition out of the position."

Aesop watches as you nod, your eyes seeking his out. He can see the desperation, the heartbreak, and the unspoken plea for help in your gaze. He wants to reach out to you, to offer some sort of comfort or solace, but Phineas places his hand on your back and leads you through the double doors of the room.

Fate may be capricious, but you bear its cruel blows with grace and poise, leaving Aesop to contemplate the unfairness of it all as he stands alone in the room.

Aesop thought about following you up to the Headmasters office and waiting by the Gargoyle until you were done. But he knew that it would be a bit too intrusive, and he didn't want to add any more stress to your already difficult situation. So he keeps himself busy, finds work that he has to do, ingredient bottles that need to be refilled, lesson plans that need to be fleshed out. Anything that he can do to keep the anxiety at bay, to stop himself from dwelling on the fact that you're about to be ripped away from him, he does with intense concentration.

He wants to find a way for you to stay, for you to never have to leave him, but no matter how hard he thinks; he cant come up with anything. All the positions are filled, Black has an intense dislike of hiring on assistants, calls them a waste of time. Aesop would not see you stuck at some mundane shop in Hogsmeade, wasting the talents you have.

He could leave... could go with you. He could pack his bags and follow you anywhere, could he not? Aesop considers the thought, imagining himself leaving everything behind and starting a new life with you. Would you have him though? Would you allow him to stay besides you until the end?

It's idealistic, he knows that. Running away from responsibilities and obligations, leaving behind everything he's built in his career and personal life. But the thought of being with you, of never having to let go, is tempting.

How he wishes life could be that simple, that there would be no repercussions to simply uprooting the life he's made for himself. If he left Hogwarts then he would be leaving behind a chance to cure his leg, leaving behind the endless ingredients and potions that made the pain bearable. He would be leaving behind the students he's grown to care for, the friends he's made, and the sense of purpose he's found within the walls of the castle.

Someone knocks against the doors to his class and he snaps a quill in half from the sudden noise, ink splattering against his hand, on the table and the student's parchment he should have been grading.

He curses under his breath, pulling a handkerchief from the pocket in his vest and wiping his hand. "It's open" he says loudly, knowing that he will have to give the student an Outstanding grade for having ruined his essay.

"Is it a bad time?" you ask him, and he almost breaks his neck when he looks up at you. You give him a small smile, deciding to stand by the door.

"No, no of course not. Please," he points with his hand to a chair besides him. "Come in."

You walk over and take the seat, watching as he tries to compose himself. He's nervous, doesn't have a clue on what to say, but it seems like you already know what you want to talk about.

"It's all been settled, I'll be leaving on the first of the month."

Aesop nods, not quite sure what to say. He knew how Black could be, how he wasn't the time to waste time. Still he had hoped that he would keep you around, that there was a position that had miraculously opened up and no one but you could fill it. Wishful thinking that would do him no good.

"I see," he finally manages to say, his voice sounding hollow even to his own ears.

You nod slowly, the corners of your lips falling.

"Do you... Do you know where you'll go next?" he asks.

"I think I might go to America."

Aesop nods again, trying to hide the disappointment that's creeping up on him. America was far away, too far for him to visit without a good reason, without revealing the way he was starting to feel about you.

You smile weakly at him, and there's a dark cloud of silence that stretches between them. He feels like he's losing you, like this will be his last chance to speak to you, to tell you how he truly feels. But he can't find the right words, can't find the courage to speak them aloud.

"I'm going to miss you," he finally manages to say, and it feels inadequate.

"I'll miss you too, Aesop. I'm... I am so glad that I got to see you again." Your lip is trembling and he can't stand it any longer. He doesn't want to lose you.

"Let me go with you." he blurts out, watching as your eyes go wide.

"Let me stay by your side, let me follow you to the ends of the earth. I can't bear the thought of not being with you, of a future without you in it. I already lost you once, please don't force me to go through that pain again. I will do anything to keep you beside me, to show you how much you mean to me every day." His hands are shaking as he bares his heart to you, as he awaits your response. "Please, ask me to go with you."

There are tears in your eyes, but you blink them back. "You would leave your life behind for me?" you whisper.

"You are my life." Aesop replies without hesitation. "I'm in love with you."

You inhale, letting out a quivering breath of a laugh. "Why? I've done nothing but hurt you, what have I done to deserve your love?"

Aesop leans out of his chair, moving closer to you. "Don't look for excuses, don't look for reasons to push me away. Just let me love you. Let me give you a love that never grows old, that never tires, let me show you what true peace feels like." He'll get down on his knees and beg if he had to, just to prove to you how much he wants to be with you, needs to be with you.

You let out a shaky sob, your hands coming up to cup his face. You're trembling, your fingers running through the stubble on his cheeks, and finally Aesop realizes that the burning he feels every time he touches you doesn't actually hurt, it never did. It feels like a warm and comforting flame that ignites every time he is near you, reminding him of the depth of his love and desire for you. He wants to wrap that love around you like a warm blanket, to protect you from the cold world and keep you safe. His hand come up to hold yours, to steady the trembling in your body. "I love you." he repeats before your lips meet his.

There are no fireworks, there's no explosion of desire as you kiss him. Instead he feels like all his life he's been drowning and finally, finally he just broke through the waves. It feels like breathing for the first time, like coming home. He groans against your lips, lets his hands fall to your shoulders, softly pulling you closer. Your lips are soft, pliable and as he flicks his tongue against them you let out a soft moan, opening your mouth.

He wants to slip his tongue inside, wants to devour you but he needs to know that you feel the same, that you want this as much as he does. Slowly he pulls away, one of his hands finding the nape of your neck and rubbing circles against the skin. "I don't want this to be a mistake." he says, his voice husky. "I don't want you to feel like you have to."

He likes how easily your lips seem to bruise, how easily they swell.

Your eyes open and there's an emotion in them he can't quite place. You look scared, but of what?

"I want to." you whisper, your fingers coming to trace the scar down his face. It makes him shiver, makes him close his eyes and savor the feeling of you touching him.

"I want you, Aesop." you breathe against his lips, kissing him again. He lets you take charge, let's you worry his lip with your teeth, your tongue warm against his lip, teasing him. "I've always wanted you." you say.

His hand against your neck is trembling as he holds himself together. He needs to hear you say its okay, say that it's okay if he touches you, if he loses himself in you. He needs your permission, your consent. His thumb strokes your skin, as he pulls away from your mouth. "Tell me you want this as much as I do." He groans, letting the blunt end of his nails scratch as your skin, "Tell me its okay, that you want me to touch you, to kiss you, to make love to you." he almost begs, his forehead falling against yours. "I need to hear you say it."

He hears the tiny gasp you make, feels the way you shiver underneath him. Please, he thinks, say yes. His body feels like its been set on fire, desire running in his veins as his cock aches in his trousers. He wants so badly to take you, to feel you around him. He wants to bind his soul to yours, to make you his forever.

You nod slowly, your hand sliding down his chest, to the swell of his cock, squeezing it lightly. "I want this Aesop," you breathe. "I need you... please... please take me."

The lust in your voice is not lost to him as he stands and brings you with him, his hands moving to grip your waist, pulling your lower body flush against his, his cock pressed against your hip. He wants to fuck you, wants to push you against the desk and spread your legs and take you with such force that you scream his name. But you deserve to be loved, to be savored.

"I love you." he repeats, working the buttons of your skirt, letting it fall to the ground before moving to unbutton your blouse from the bottom up.

Your hands are tangled with his as you work to undress him, as you undo his vest and slip his tie from his neck, pulling it free at the same time he pushes the blouse from your shoulders. Undressed like this, he can see the full extent of your scar, as it wraps down your neck and across your shoulder. His eyes are glued to it and you freeze, going cold under his touch.

"I...I can keep it on if you prefer."

There's so much shame in your voice that he feels anger flare at the back of his throat. "No," he says firmly, his voice low and steady. "Never hide who you are, or what makes you who you are, from me. Your scar is a part of you, and it's beautiful." He leans in to press a soft kiss against the scar, his lips lingering there for a moment before he pulls back to look at you. "You're beautiful."

He wants to know who made you feel as if you have to hide, who shamed you into believing your body wasn't spun from gold, but he doesn't want to ruin the moment. He would rather show you how much you deserve to be worshipped. He's gentle when he slips the shirt from your arms, gentle as he pulls you flush against him and kisses you once more, his fingers trailing up your back and unclasping your bra.

When he pulls back you have a tentative smile on your face. "It's... been a long time." you say shyly, as he lets the underwear fall to the floor.

"We can go slow." he whispers, finding your lips once more, his hands cupping your breasts. "We don't have to go all the way." he says, even though his cock is aching for release, weeping already at the feeling of your hardened nipples against his fingertips.

"I don't want slow." you groan, letting your head fall back as his lips trail their way down to your chest, his tongue flicking against your nipple and making you cry out. "I'm tired of waiting, of holding back." Your fingers knot themselves in his hair, pulling him closer as he sucks the hardened nub inside his mouth, his tongue working around it slowly. "I- Ah!- I want all of you Aesop." you whimper, digging your nails into his scalp.

He pulls back, lets your nipple slip out of his mouth and your hands fall to his shoulders. His hands trail down your back, into the waistband of your underwear and slowly he pulls them down, feeling the curve of your ass, fingers slipping between your thighs, finding your soaked cunt. He lets out a groan, his cock twitching, begging to be let out as he strokes you, coating his fingers with your wetness.

He rather likes the way you tremble around his hand, the way your fingers dig into his shoulder, the way you moan his name when he finally slides a finger inside of your cunt, his thumb grazing your clit. "You're so tight." he moans, adding another fingers and slowly pumping them in and out, savoring the way you clench around him.

"Please Aesop!" you whine, riding his hand, trying to make him go faster. But his pace stays languid, his fingers stroking your walls, finding every sensitive spot inside. He watches as you tremble around him, as your eyes fall shut and your back arches. He wants to make you cum, wants your body to become addicted to him. He leans forward, his fingers curling inside of you, and kisses the valley between your breasts, feeling your thunderous heartbeat against his chest.

If he was younger, if he hadn't any experience perhaps he would have come inside his trousers as you reach down and grab his wrist, forcing his fingers deeper, begging him to make you come. His palm is flat against your sex and he can feel the way you're chasing your orgasm on his hand, your clit dragging against the heel of his hand. He feels you soak his hand and it takes all the strength he can muster to deny you your release, to pull his hand away and leave you empty, your eyes opening in- confusion? Anger? He isn't quite sure, but it makes him smirk, knowing that he has such control over you.

Aesop wanted to make this last, wanted to spend all night exploring your body, finding every sensitive spot, every sweet spot that would make you moan and writhe under his touch. He didn't want to rush it, didn't want it to be over too quickly. He wanted to take his time and make every moment count.

But he's at his limit. His cock hurts and he wants so badly to seat himself inside of you, to have you milk every single drop of his seed. His movements are jerky as he unbuckles his pants and shoves them down alongside his briefs. He doesn't look away from you as his cock springs free, watching as your eyes go wide, as your mouth falls open.

He's been blessed with a sizeable cock, and he doesn't have to look down to know that its red and weeping pre-cum already. There's a curve at the base of his cock and its there that he wraps his fingers around himself, slowly working his hand upwards, coating himself in your juices. He lets out a moan as he squeezes the head, pushing more pre-cum from the tip, his eyes never leaving your face.

"On the table." he orders, voice husky. He would have wanted the first time to take place somewhere more romantic, but this would do for now. He would taint the sacredness of his classroom with your bodies entwined, with the sounds of your moans and the scent of sex filling the air. He wanted to be unable to think of you every time he stepped foot inside his class, every time he graded a student's parchment on the very desk you sat against, spreading your legs.

The sight of your swollen cunt, dripping sticky juices against your thighs has him squeezing his cock again, his thumb running along the vein, making him shiver. One day he would ask you to play with yourself, to sink your own fingers deep into your cunt and let him watch as you pleasure yourself. Not tonight, tonight he would take you, coat you in his seed and make you his.

It takes a bit of maneuvering to have you comfortably laying on his desk, his badge clattering to the ground among other things. It takes a bit more to have himself properly lined up with your cunt, one leg on his shoulder as he licks, nips, and kisses your thigh. The other one hangs off of the crook of his elbow, his fingertips caressing your skin softly.

He's stroking his cock in rhythm to your moaning; slow, lazy strokes he can feel in the pit of his belly. His eyes are closed as he kisses your skin, his tongue following every kiss.

"Aesop..." you whimper and he feels you shift, feels you raise yourself onto your elbows. "You're teasing." you're breathless, watching him fuck his hand.

"Savoring." he corrects, finally opening his eyes. "I've dreamt of this, your sweet cunt wrapped around my cock." he confesses, his hand still stroking himself. "I want to make it last, want to make you feel every inch of me, every stroke, every thrust."

You moan at his words, reaching between your spread legs to wrap your fingers around the tip of his cock. "Make it a reality, Aesop. I want you inside me." you plead.

With a groan he pushes your hand away, watches as you bring it up to your mouth and trail your tongue across your fingers, tasting him.

He bites down on your thigh, making you cry out in pain. You're absolutely wonderful, everything he's ever been looking for. He takes a step forward, lets his cock bump against your clit before wrapping his hand around the base and with excruciating slowness he trails his cock along your cunt, spreading your lips and collecting every last drop of your juices. You're panting, pleading for him to stop teasing but he ignores you, his eyes glued to the way your cunt looks with his cock atop it.

He wants to have that image imprinted in the back of his mind until he dies. Your lips wrapped around his cock, the very slit of his cock dripping against your clit. He's absolutely mesmerized, has never seen anything so beautiful, so-

You reach down and with a bit of shifting, push him deep inside of your cunt.

Aesop lets out an ungodly loud moan as he sinks inside of you. Your cunt is tight, hot, and he can feel you pulsing around him, your legs trembling against him. He's momentarily stunned, the feeling of being inside you overwhelming his senses but he hears you moan his name, hears you fall back against the desk and beg him to move, and who is he to deny you your pleasure?

He moves with a hiss, in and out, savoring the way your cunt grips him, refuses to let go. He leans over you, his lips trailing kisses along your collarbone and up to your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive flesh. You tilt your head back, giving him better access, and he takes advantage of it, his mouth latching onto the pulse point of your neck, leaving a dark mark in its wake. Your hands are all over him, tracing the muscles of his back and gripping his hair, pulling him closer to you.

"Harder-" you moan as he grips your waist and pulls you further off the edge of the desk. Your chanting his name, squeezing his cock in tandem and he feels his control slip.

"You're so good" he groans against you, his hips snapping against you as he picks up speed. "So good for me." You're so wet and every time he pushes himself inside he can hear you cunt slurping around him, pulling him back in. He's never felt anything like this, has never been so consumed by a woman. He can feel his own orgasm building, coiling tightly in his gut and he knows he's not going to last much longer. He shifts, his fingers digging into the flesh of your ass as he gives you exactly what you're begging for, driving his cock into you with wild abandonment.

You're a mess of moans and cries as he drills into you, hitting all the right spots with each thrust. Your eyes are squeezed shut, your nails digging into his back as he takes you higher and higher. You can feel your orgasm building, your muscles tightening around him as he pounds into you relentlessly.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunts, his hips slamming against yours with increasing force. "I can feel you squeezing me, trying to milk me dry."

You whimper in response, your body trembling with need. You need him to take you over the edge, to push you to the brink of ecstasy and beyond. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside of you as he continues to pound into you with a primal intensity.

He leans down, his mouth hot against your ear. "You're mine," he growls, his teeth nipping at your earlobe. "Say it. Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you moan, your words lost in a haze of pleasure.

He lets out a guttural moan, his pace getting sloppy. "I'm so close, love," he licks at your earlobe and when you shiver your cunt tightens even more. "I'm going to come. I'm going to fill you with my seed, mark you as mine." He pulls back just enough to look at you, to look at the lust filled haze in your eyes, your mouth twisted open in pleasure. He leans down, kisses your scar and suddenly you're screaming his name, your body thrashing before going rigid underneath him.

It takes everything he has and more to not come right then and there as your pussy spasms around him, tightening and tightening until he's hissing and gasping for breath. His hips continue to pump against you, chasing his own release as you writhe beneath him. With a final thrust, he buries himself deep inside you and fills you with his seed. Rope after rope of hot, sticky cum shoots into your cunt, coating your walls and filling you up until he can feel it dripping out of you and down his spent balls. He pushes himself into you deeper, refusing to let it go to waste. You let out a throaty moan, hips coming up to meet his thrust.

His pants mix with yours as he collapses on top of you, his head resting between your breasts as he tries to catch his breath. He's still buried deep inside you, both of you feeling the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. He plants soft kisses on your skin, his hands running up and down your sides, caressing you gently.

Slowly he rises and slips out of you, making you whimper at the sudden loss of his warmth. He stands up straight, pulling his trousers back up and hisses in pain as his leg locks up, forcing him to sit down.

You're quick to sit up, looking at him with worry. "Are you okay?" you say, voice raw.

He nods, massaging his thigh. "I'm fine... just pushed myself too much." With such an intense release, his leg feels like its burning, the scar that runs down his leg throbbing. "I just need a second." he groans.

You stand, legs shaky as you slip your blouse on, kneeling in front of him. He's wary as you try to slip his trousers off, his hand coming to grip your wrist.

"I might need a minute if you still want to keep going."

You shoot him a look of disbelief and he can't help but chuckle, not missing the lightness in your eyes, the way you no longer seem so afraid.

"Next time, just let me get on top." you whisper, tugging at his pants again but he's afraid of you looking at the scar on his leg, of you seeing just how bad it is, so he pulls your hand away, brings it to his lips.

"I'm okay, this happens often enough."

You look at him skeptically, but he gives you a reassuring smile.

With a sigh you lay your head against his good knee. "I..." you swallow and he watches as you lick your lips. "That was good."

Aesop scoffs playfully, letting his fingers slip through your hair. "Good? Are you sure that's the word you want to use?"

"It was... Mind Blowing." you sigh, "Devine." you look up at him. "The best sex of my life. Thank you."

He hums, "I don't think that's something you should thank me for, my love."

He feels you tense just a bit, and suddenly he's afraid that perhaps he's done something wrong. But you let out a soft laugh, the tension melting away.

"I love you too, you know? Always have, now and forever." you whisper, raising your head, you looked at him as if you had more to say, as if there was suddenly so many things you could say but instead of opening your mouth, instead of talking to him you simply smiled and stood, used his right knee as leverage.

He's quick to reach for you, quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist and gently tug, making you take a step closer. "I meant every word I said." there's a seriousness in his voice that makes your lip tremble. "I want to go with you."

"I'm not that selfish Aesop... I won't have you throw away your life for me."

It's odd, having such a conversation with you as you stand in front of him naked except the thin blouse that you haven't bothered buttoning up. It makes his heart fall to the pit of his stomach at the same time his cock stirs.

He has to concentrate, his thumb gently moving against your wrist. "For you, I will do anything."

"Not this." you say firmly.

"Then don't go." Desperation makes his grip on you tighten. "Stay here with me, I'll get us a home somewhere. You like Hogsmeade don't you? Or do you prefer BrocBurrow?" He pulls again, and you move closer. "Name a place and I'll make it happen."

You let out a wet laugh, and Aesop wonders if you're going to cry, but you don't, instead you lean down and touch his scar.

"What if you get tired of me? What if you realize that you've made a mistake and-"

He hushes you with a kiss. "Choosing you will never be a mistake."

"But-"

"Enough." he pulls you down onto his lap, lets your body mold against his. "Stop searching for excuses, stop trying to run away. I won't let you go. I will always want you, I will always stay by your side. Whether that's in America, or in a hamlet or cove somewhere here."

He can't help himself, his hand sliding between your thighs, slowly spreading them apart, his fingers trailing up, up, up until he can feel the heat of your cunt and your breath hitches.

"Say you'll stay." he nips at your neck, placing his hand flat against you, "Tell me that you can't live without me." He adds pressure, dips a knuckle into your sex and he can feel his thick cum still inside of you. "Please." he groans.

"Aesop-"

His finger slides in to the next knuckle. "Say it."

"I-"

"I'll buy you any home, I'll cherish you, worship you." His finger is all the way inside of you and he curls it, strokes against that place that has you seeing stars, your head falling back against his shoulder. " I will never make you cry, I will never let you hurt." He keeps stroking, pushing his cum further into you, even as it drips down to his wrist. "You just have to stay with me, beloved. You. Just. Have. To. Stay." He slips another finger inside of you as he talks and every word is punctuated with a slow deliberate thrust. He knows its unfair; even as you reach down and grab his arm, your hips slowly rocking against him, but right now he doesn't want fair. Right now he's afraid that you will say no, that even though he's bared his heart and begged for you, you will leave him.

He won't let that happen, he simply can't. He can feel his cock harden as you grind your ass on his lap and he leans in and kisses your shoulder, making you whimper.

"Okay..Ah!-"

His fingers still, his whole body going stiff.

"I-I'll stay." you finish, your voice breathless as you lean back against him, feeling his hard length pressing against your back.

Relief floods through him and he pulls his fingers out of you, grabbing your chin and turning your head so that you're facing him. He doesn't care that he's smearing cum on your face, that his beard is scratching your skin. all that matters is that you're staying, that you want him as much as he wants you.

"Promise me." he breathes against your lips, "Promise me that you aren't just saying this because I forced you."

You kiss him, and he can taste himself on you. "I don't think I can stay away from you anymore, Aesop."

He bites your lip softly, kissing you again and again until he's light headed and you've melted against him.

"I want to be with you, Aesop. Forever."

He wants to laugh, wants to cry, his heart swelling inside of his chest that its almost painful. He settles for reaching between your legs, pushing them open with his knee, his hand easily taking his cock out of his briefs and lining it up with your cunt. "Forever." he agrees, pushing himself into you.

You fell asleep atop him. Rather, he fucked you to the point that you passed out. It had scared him at first, the way your body convulsed so violently that you had milked his orgasm straight out of him, your cunt gripping him with such an intensity that he could still feel it. You had started crying, moaning his name until you mixed the two and he couldn't make out what you were saying. Then you had fell against him in a boneless heap.

If it were anywhere else he would let you sleep, would let himself gloat on the fact that he could fuck you unconscious. But the chair was getting uncomfortable and his leg was at its limit, the pain unbearable. He couldn't get you off of him, not like this.

He calls your name, gently rubbing your hair, trying to wake you. If he could just get you up and take a Wiggenweld potion for the pain, then he could Disapparate into his room, into his bed where it would be a lot more comfortable to hold you.

You stir above him and when you move your hips he hisses in pain, grabbing your hip with a bit too much force. He's still inside of you and he's very sensitive.

"I need you to get up, love. Can you do that for me?" His voice is gentle, but urgent, as he tries to rouse you.

You groan in protest, not fully awake, but when you hear the way he makes a pained noise, your eyes fly open. He can see that you're still a little disoriented as you blink a few times.

"I need you to get up." He repeats, letting go of you.

You move slowly, making a soft mewling noise when he finally slips out of you, his cock limp and coated in both of your juices. He watches you stand, turning around to face him.

"Are you okay?" You sound exhausted.

He nods, carefully placing himself back inside of his pants. "This was not the most well-thought-out plan, my love. I should have considered the consequences of taking you in this chair."

Even through the pain, when you sleepily laugh at his words he can't help but smile back, until he feels the pain flaring and he winces. "Would you mind if we move this up to my quarters?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you." You say, nervously tugging at the buttons on your blouse.

Aesop can't help the look of disbelief he makes, wondering why on Merlin's name you were apologizing. "You didn't," he says, mustering whatever was left of his strength to stand, using the back of the chair to steady himself. "I know my limits and I was foolish enough to push them."

You open your mouth but he shoots you a look that has you automatically closing it, opting instead to slip into your skirt. "I don't regret it, my love. Could you...?" He points over to his wand, dropped onto the ground. He hasn't the strength to do it himself.

You bend and grab it and much to his horror, he can feel a burning deep in his belly, asking him to take you again. Where was this sudden urge coming from? When did his body decide to revert back to its youthful need to constantly stick his dick into a woman? He takes the wand from you, wonders if the smell of sex clings to his classroom with the same intensity it clings to you and him.

He casts Scourgify on the room, alongside Reparo, watching all the tiny little jars fix themselves back onto his desk. He didn't realize that you left his side until he's startled by the sound of a door closing, seeing you standing by his office, a bottle of Wiggenweld in your hand.

"I'm not sure where you keep the stronger stuff. Will this help?"

He holds his hand out, raising an eyebrow at you. "I see you're still in the habit of sneaking around places you shouldn't be," he teases, a smirk forming on his lips, knowing full well that the door had been locked all day.

You roll your eyes, but can't help but smile as you make your way back towards him, holding the potion out. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

He chuckles, taking the bottle from your hand. "Thank you. And to answer your question, the stronger potions are kept in a secured vault. You won't be able to sneak in there, I'm afraid."

You pout playfully. "Spoilsport."

He's quick to unstop the bottle, bringing it to his lips and probably drinking more than he should. While it wouldn't cure him, as he often wished it would every time he had to take the blasted potion, it eased the pain well enough. His eyes were on you as you finished getting dressed, slipping your shoes back on carefully.

Maybe it was the sex, or perhaps it had to do with the way they both had spilled their hearts to one another; but you seemed a whole lot more comfortable. Soft, pliable. In this moment he didn't feel like he had to be on his toes around you, worried about what kind of mindset you were in.

No, as he looked at you, you looked happy. As if, for the time being, you weren't carrying years of pain with you. Not that he had any problem with your usual broody demeanor, this was just... nice. A piece of you that he could have all to himself.

He took another sip, smaller this time, and slid the cork back into place, pocketing the potion for later. He really should make it a habit of keeping one on his body. "Come." He says, holding his hand out for you.

When you place your fingers on his, he's quick too wrap them around you and pull you towards him. It'll be a few more seconds before the pain in his leg would subside enough that he wouldn't have to lean on the chair or you for support. That was more than enough time to lean down and capture your lips in a kiss.

It's short, but enough to sate him for the time being.

"Would you care to spend the night?" He asks, running his thumb across your scar. "I've got quite the comfortable bed."

"I don't think I can go for another round." You whisper, his thumb still on your lip and he swears that he can see you blush. "Plus... I should probably clean myself off. I'm pretty sure I can feel your..." you trail off, as if you were too embarrassed to say it.

He hums, kisses you on the forehead and lets you go. There's a bit of disappointment, but he knows that there will be plenty of opportunities to have you spend the night wrapped up in his arms. A bath does sound plenty tempting. "Alright." he says, stealing another kiss.

"There's a favor I need to ask of you, if that's alright." You say, tugging at his collar.

You could ask him to go into Black's room and replace his extensive collection of Mustache wax with ones tainted with the Calvorio curse and he would do it in a heartbeat. "What do you need?"

"I was- sorry this is really embarrassing-" you inhaled, tugging again at his collar and making him laugh. He's never seen you quite this nervous before. "Would it be possible to have you brew a Contraceptive Potion?"

Aesop's initial reaction is a slow nod, even as he feels his face warm slightly. He knew from the beginning that he would have to brew one for you the moment he first filled you, perhaps enough to have a ready supply of it on hand. The relationship was just getting off the ground, he couldn't risk impregnating you. Not without your direct approval. He clears his throat, trying to push away the rather unsavory thoughts that popped into his mind.

"Of course, I will have that ready for you before your first class in the morning."

"Thank you... Are you feeling any better?"

He flexes his leg, and there's no stabbing pain shooting through his muscles. None more than the usual at least. "I am, thank you. Would you let me take you to your Chambers?"

You nod, looking up at him. "Do you need me to fetch you your walking stick?"

He shakes his head, letting you move away from him. "I should be fine."

"Should be?"

"I'll be fine, honestly. We'll travel by Floo, how's that sound?"

"A whole lot better." you smile at him.

He lets out a grunt, finally letting go of the chair and carefully distributing his weight onto his leg. "Let's get you to your room, then."

Aesop had taken that bath shortly after he kissed you goodbye at your door. Then he had made sure to brew a very large batch of the Contraceptive potion, deciding that there was no possible way he was to fall asleep anytime soon; not with the way his mind wanted to think about nothing but you. Your voice, your body, the way you seemed to shine when you smiled with meaning.

He was absolutely smitten, and he wanted nothing more than to be by your side again. The fact that you had accepted his offer, that you would stay with him after your time at Hogwarts came to an end, well it left him reeling. He was scared, afraid that perhaps he wouldn't be able to provide everything he'd promised you. But that fear paled in comparison to the overwhelming joy he felt knowing that you weren't going anywhere, that he would have a chance to wake with you besides him, to share his life with you.

He knew that his request was toying dangerously close to being a proposal. But he couldn't bring himself to worry about that. There was no doubt in his mind that he would marry you. If that was to happen now, he had no complaints. He would have you bound to him forever, in anyway he could.

He did fear that he had forced you, that perhaps he had rushed you into a future that you weren't prepared for. He had no second thoughts about how you felt about him. When you had told him that you felt the same way, that you love him, there hadn't been anything but sincerity in your voice, in your eyes. He believed you. But he knew that you still carried your past in your heart, had a suspicion that in those six years you were gone, there was much you had gone through. He knew the scar wasn't from you were a student, that the way you seemed to carry yourself with both confidence and caution hinted at something deeper.

Aesop wanted to know, he wanted you to be comfortable in telling him. He didn't want to force you to open up like he did before, with brute force and insensitivity. No matter how hurt he was, how he had acted had been a mistake and it was a miracle that you had forgiven him, that you hadn't pushed him further away.

The cauldron in front of him bubble's and hisses at the same time he yawns. He let's it boil for exactly fifteen more seconds before the color changes to a pale, streak less ivory. He moves it away from the fire, glad that its finished just as he starts to feel fatigue drag his strength. It's a bit past midnight and he knows that there's no possible way you will still be awake, so his two options are to give it to you in the morning during Breakfast or leave it at your door for you to find when you wake up.

He decides that it will be better to leave it for you. There would be less eyes watching, less of a chance of someone growing a little too curious and asking questions that Aesop has no intentions of answering.

He makes quick work of pouring the liquid into the rounded vials, making sure that each of them get the exact necessary amount to actually be effective. When he's done, he conjures a chest and carefully places them away, enchanting the lock just in case one of his...more troublesome students finds it and gets curious.

He leaves out two, one for you and the other one he will keep in his room just in case the need for it ever... arises. It would be a lot better than to have to come all the way down to his classroom. Perhaps he will have to find a better place to put them. He yawns again and decides that it will be a problem for another day. One were he isn't so exhausted and craving the warmth of his bed.

Making sure that the chest is well hidden in his office, and that the door is locked, he disapparates in a crack of lightning. He's a little shaky as he apparates in front of your door, quietly placing the vial he had slipped into a velvet bag on the handle of the door. He's tempted to knock, to see if you're truly asleep but he doesn't chance it, turning and taking the four steps until he's at his door.

He has to start the fire again, his room too cold for him to ignore it. A simple cast of Incendio over fresh logs is all it takes for the warmth to start spreading as he changes into his nightwear.

When he finally gets into bed, his thoughts are on you, on the way that he wishes there wasn't a wall separating them.

HI????? HELLO???? WHEN IS IT MY TURN?????

L EXCUSES RIGHT HAND ON THE BIBLE GOD CAN STRIKE ME DOWN IF IM LYIN. THAT MOTHERFUCKER’S CHEATING