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aesopsharpmybeloved · 10 months ago

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Kisses at Midnight

It's been a week since Aesop's sweetheart confessed her feelings to him, and it has already been the best week he's had in years. Now it's New Year's Eve, and he absolutely knows how he wants to spend it.

I would be lost without my amazing consultant and partner in crime @tea-withjamandbread ❤❤❤

Unfortunately, I haven't managed to finish this for actual New Year's Eve, but oh well. Also, it's rather obvious that I'm on smut withdrawal, I need to write something spicy next 😁

Kisses at Midnight (10.7k)

tw: sexual content (briefly mentioned a few times), more mentions of the fact that humans need to pee than normally present in fiction

Aesop Sharp slowly woke up, but kept his eyes closed. He was lying in his comfortable bed, a soft, warm, and deliciously smelling body in his arms, and he did not want to open his eyes and realise that he was embracing a pillow and his still half-asleep mind was only playing tricks on him. No, he was comfortable right where he was, his arms and one leg trapping the woman he hoped he was truly holding. Each and every second, he became more convinced she was actually there with him; he smelled the sweet mix of her perfume and natural scent, heard an extra heartbeat, felt the soft fanning of her warm breath on his lips. It was only when a small hand connected with his weathered face did he allow himself to finally look.

And there she was, right there, nestled within his hold. Her cheeks were flushed and eyes still small with sleep, but she was smiling at him so softly, it almost took his breath away. His fingers smoothed over the fabric of her nightgown where they rested upon her back. He was doing his best to be respectful, making sure his hands didn’t stray over to her more intimate areas. The two of them only began their clandestine romantic relationship a short time ago after all, and they were of the unsaid understanding to take things slow, properly get to know each other.

Aesop wanted to build up their trust even further, wanted her to feel comfortable with him in close proximity, wanted her to not only get used to his touch, but also crave it. As far as he knew, this was the first time she’s ever been in any kind of romantic affair, and with a grown man no less, and he therefore had the amazing privilege, as well as the huge responsibility to guide her through the new experience and make sure it was a good and happy one. Her innocence was so endearing, and with each blush to her cheeks, every flutter of her eyelashes, he felt the cynicism he held for love as a way to protect his heart melt away. Aesop was so grateful she gave him a chance, as it was something he didn’t even hope was possible, and he was going to make it worth her time.

However, he couldn’t deny that just the knowledge of the two of them lying together in the intimate embrace, their warm bodies separated by nothing but two nightshirts, made his body yearn, and he had to be careful about the placement of his hips. The last thing he wanted was to make her uncomfortable because of his anatomy and her closeness resulting in a rather obvious morning arousal.

“G’ mornin’,” he murmured, his voice slightly hoarse with sleep, making her smile once more. He only just so managed to shift his hips before she huddled closer to him in a chase of his lips. Her mouth tasted sweeter than any sugary confection Aesop ever had, and he found his hand unconsciously coming up to caress at the soft skin of her cheek, his calloused fingertips a stark contrast to it.

They only slept locked in a embrace for a few times now, but Aesop found that he was already hopelessly addicted to it. It’s been so long he last held a loved one throughout the night. More than a decade, actually. He forgot how nice it was entirely, how warm and comfortable it was to wake up like so.

“A Knut for your thoughts?” she offered after they parted for air, her head once again resting upon his pillow, their noses nearly touching still. He gave her a grin, hand once more going down to rest upon her side, but not before taking the time to slide over her neck, shoulder, teasing at her ribs. “Hm, nothing of great importance, really. Except it kind of is. I was just thinking that I’ll have to make a portkey that would bring you from your dorm to my bed every night after term resumes, as I don’t think I’ll be able to fall asleep without you here…” Her resulting blush made his grin even wider.

“Any plans for today? Or am I free to just roll around the bed with you the entire day? Because trust me, nothing could possibly make me happier,” Aesop teased. Both of them knew it wasn’t possible, as both had work that needed completing over the break, not to mention the young woman was also studying for her NEWTs, but the fantasy was one Aaesop very much enjoyed indulging in. If anything, they’d be able to stay in bed rather than attending breakfast, and Aesop would simply get a house elf to bring them something, uncaring whether the little creatures thought he suddenly had appetite of two.

“Today is New Year’s Eve, actually,” she said quietly. Aesop’s eyes widened in surprise. Ever since her confession on Christmas Eve and their following time spent together, time, as in days and dates, became nothing but an arbitrary term for him. She could’ve told him it was the middle of July even as everything was covered by snow outside, and he would’ve probably believed her. The more he thought about it however, the more it made sense. It’s been a week since he was first allowed to finally kiss her after more than a year of craving nothing else, and they’d welcome in the new year in slightly over a dozen hours.

A part of him just knew that 1893 would really be a good year.

Still, he couldn’t keep himself from wanting her affirmation. “Merlin… Another year. I’ll be even more old for you than I already am…” he said quietly, prompting her to give him a frankly adorable little frown. “Aesop,” his sweetheart whispered, “we talked about this.” She pushed on his chest, making him roll onto his back, before crawling halfway over his body. Their chests pressed against one another, and Aesop couldn’t hold back a quiet, low groan at the feeling of the plush flesh of her breasts against him. She kissed him passionately then, bolder than ever before, and the professor’s brain once again turned off, unable to comprehend anything other than the gorgeous woman in his arms drinking off his lips.

“If I understand it correctly, wizards and witches age more slowly. Isn’t Minister Spavin, what, 135 years old?” she asked after she pulled back to breathe. Aesop was quiet for a while before chuckling soundlessly: “he’ll turn 138 this year. I expect there will be some truly grand party for his 140th birthday. However, despite the fact that he is a jolly good minister in my opinion, I’d like to ask you to not talk about him immediately after you’ve just kissed me.”

His sweetheart followed his example and chuckled. Once, twice, three times before descending into a fit of giggles, one in which Aesop gladly joined her, his hands stroking over her back and waist. “Sorry,” he said once their laughter quieted down, “you’re right that we do live far longer than muggles, and it is not that uncommon for there to be an age difference larger than ten years between partners, but…” he took a deep breath, closing his eyes, “I still feel like you deserve someone better. Someone younger, or at least someone who doesn’t look their age like I do… Or, at the very least, someone who’s not as crippled and scarred like me.”

A hand on his cheek prompted him to look at her. “There is nobody better for me. No matter how young anyone is, how young they appear, or if they’ve got one good leg or two of them, they wouldn’t be better for me than you… Because they wouldn’t be you. It’s you I love, and everything that makes you the person you are, and that makes you the perfect man for me.”

Aesop was glad she allowed him to gather her in a tight embrace, so it was easier for him to hide his glistening eyes. However, he knew she could very much feel the slight shudder of his breath as he found himself deeply touched and overwhelmed in the best way possible. His young sweetheart made no comment about his state, and only held him close, stroking his hair and the nape of his neck. “Let me repeat your earlier question,”she said instead between small kisses she was currently delivering upon every piece of his skin she could reach, “any plans for today?”

The former Auror took a deep breath, thankful for the change of topic as her earlier words truly shifted something inside him, his heart was still beating wildly, and he found himself wanting to say: ‘So what that it’s New Year’s Eve? Let’s stay right here, in the nightshirt-donning soft warmth of each other’s arms and forget there’s anything else in the world!’ However, that felt hardly fair towards her. “Hm…” he mused out loud, “I don’t have anything set in stone… but a spot of breakfast would be nice. Here, ideally…” His young lover chuckled when his arms tightened around her once more. “Then there’s a staff meeting,” he continued, “an ‘official’ one, with the Headmaster and everything. Pretty much just him congratulating us on ‘all the great work we’ve been doing’ and claiming that ‘he’s sure the next semester will be even better’. Not that he’s got any idea what he’s saying, Dinah could be teaching the Unforgivables to First years, and he probably wouldn’t even notice.”

She listened on with a grin on her face. It was not the first time Aesop went into a little tirade about the snobby Headmaster, and it surely wouldn’t be the last. In any case, they amused her greatly. “After that,” Aesop continued on normally, “my schedule is once more free.”

“If there’s an ‘official’ meeting, is there an ‘unofficial’ one too?” she asked then, grinning still. “Of course there is,” the potions master confirmed, “after Abraham, professor Ronen that is, is done with the fireworks at midnight, Heads of houses make sure their students are in their respective common rooms, and we meet up again. It’s nothing big, and not everyone attends, just a few drinks with the colleagues. However…” he breathed in, I think I’m going to miss this one… If you don’t mind me sticking by you after midnight, that is.”

“I very much don’t mind that. Is there some place from where we can watch the fireworks in private?” the Ravenclaw asked. It made a smile appear on Aesop’s face: “You know as well as I there are many places in Hogwarts where barely anyone ever goes. I’ll think something out.”

He squeezed her once more, this time not having to watch out for the placement of his hips, but now a small squeak escaped her mouth. It made him look at her for any signs of discomfort. She didn’t look alarmed or uncomfortable, more sheepish and embarrassed. “I meant it when I said that I don’t mind you sticking with me after midnight, but please, release me for now, I have to excuse myself for a pinch” Aesop chuckled and loosened his arms. He watched with a smile as she darted off in the direction of the door to his chambers, her nightgown flowing behind her dramatically.

Aesop thought about the evening awaiting them, and thought of the places from which one could watch the fireworks privately. There was the Quidditch pitch, of course, or perhaps the castle walls around Hogwarts? Or… His eyes widened and a grin appeared on his face. Now that might be an idea!

He too went to use the loo after she came back, smiling smugly to himself and his brilliant thinking.

They ate their breakfast the same way they did in the past few days - nestled in his bed in a display of pure bohemian decadence, the victorian propriety be damned. He gladly cleaned the orange jam from the corner of her mouth using his lips, and she seemed happy plopping small grilled tomatoes into his mouth, his tongue unable to resist teasing at her fingers every once in a while. Aesop felt like a young man again, brazen and bold, and he just couldn’t get enough of the close proximity, of the physical contact, of her soft laughter and even softer words. He was certain that if he saw anyone else behaving the way the two of them behaved in these past few days, he’d consider them terribly sappy, if not straight up obnoxious, but he supposed this was what an early relationship was about, the inability to have enough of one another.

Much, much sooner than he would’ve liked, it was time for Aesop to join his colleagues and employer, and the couple had to part ways. The sound of her undressing and changing into her regular clothes behind him was like a sweet siren’s call, but the professor remained a gentleman and didn’t turn around or even peek until she said she was decent.

Aesop very much looked forward to the two of them taking things further, because how could he not, but he had to admit this careful dancing around one another, this soft drum tremble, the delicious carnal tension in the air was very enjoyable as well. They had so much to look forward to together, and the sweetest fruit is the one that takes the longest to ripen. Ever since that first night, his sleeping brain spared him of any lust filled dreams that could result in a very embarrassing situation had she been resting beside him, so all that remained in him were the memories of them, and the rippling of sweet anticipation under his skin.

After she left, proclaiming that she’s going to check up on her things in the Room of Requirement before going to spend some time studying in the Library, and he too began changing into his normal ensemble, a moment of uncertainty overcame him once more - would she find him as desirable as he found her? He gazed at his half bare form in the mirror. She did seem to appreciate his face, his hair, his physique, but under all of his clothes, he was far from perfect. His body was littered by old scars, some of them going all the way to his own Hogwarts years and many a duel fought and won at Crossed wands. Not to mention he was rather hirsute. She could have perhaps seen hints of the thick hair covering his chest at the collar of his nightshirt, but she never once commented on it. And, of course, there was his leg. She claimed she wasn’t bothered by it, and Aesop knew she was sincere, but… it was, after all, something that bothered him every day…

He sighed.

Now was certainly not the time to think of such things yet.

No, no he had more pressing matters at hand currently…

Aesop made his way through the faculty tower, his step quite light despite his ever present limp. The pain was there, but it was easier to ignore it when his mind was full of plans for the evening. Before he knew it, the potions master was standing in front of the door to the staff room. He pushed the door open to reveal his colleagues, all of them looking up upon hearing him enter. The professors sat all around the room, some greeting him with a few words, while others merely gave him a nod and a smile. He looked around the room: “The esteemed Headmaster is not here yet?” Mirabel Garlick, who was sitting the closest to the door calmly blew on her tea: “Not yet. You know he and Matilda always arrive last. Bai and Abraham aren’t here yet as well. I think they’re casting silencing charms on the beasts’ enclosures, making sure the poor creatures don’t get a fright during the fireworks.” He merely hummed in answer and made his way over to a large plush armchair in front of the fireplace. Dinah was already sitting there, also sipping on her tea.

“Hello, dear,” she greeted with a nod, not looking up from the orange flames, “I hear Abe’s gotten that aged Firewhisky for this year, it should be a nice evening.”

Aesop’s hand unconsciously came to rub at his neck a little awkwardly: “Actually… I don’t think I’ll join you tonight…” His dear friend looked at him in surprise, which quickly turned into suspicion. The former auror schooled his face into a mask of indifference, and he hoped it wouldn’t fail him. “Truly? Why is that? If I know one thing you love, it’s tearing Phineas’ speeches to shreds over a glass of something strong.” Aesop blinked: “It’s not the one and only thing I love, and I’ve no doubt today’s speech will be just as full of shit as it was last year, but… Well, I’m just not feeling up to par today.”

“Would you like me to check you over?” came from his other side, and he almost jumped. It would seem Noreen Blainey snuck up to him while he was talking. Or was she already standing there when he arrived? Was he losing his touch? “That’s quite alright, Noreen,” he said in a measured tone, “I’m sure it’s just some small cold or something. This winter’s certainly colder than the ones these past few years ago.” The nurse huffed: “Which is why I keep reminding you lot to place heating charms on your garments and have a pepper-up ready. Shouldn’t you have one as well, considering you brewed them?”

Aesop sighed. ”It’s in my chambers, of course. However, I am very much not walking all the way there to fetch it, then back here, and then back there again. I’m sure I can survive Black’s blubbering without it, and then once he’s done, I’ll retire to my rooms, take it, maybe top it with a Cough potion for good measure, and sleep it off.”

“Does that mean you’ll miss the fireworks?” asked Dinah, sounding more than a little surprised, as she knew very well that Aesop enjoyed fireworks immensely. “This must be more serious than you make it out to be if you’re willing to miss the fireworks in favour of going to bed! Not to mention Abraham’s going to be very disappointed.” It felt as if every staff member present was looking at him. Damn it, Aesop needed to get out of this mess before his plan was revealed. The attention of his other colleagues didn’t help much.

“Just… leave it be, alright? I’m rather tired, and I don’t feel well, and I’d be quite glad if you respected my decision to retire to my chambers earlier tonight. I am of course sorry not to be able to see Abe’s spellwork, but I trust one of you would be willing enough to provide me with a nice memory for me to look at afterwards.”

That seemed to do the trick, and the eyes previously on him were directed towards other things now, much to Aesop’s happiness. That is, all pairs except one. Dinah’s dark eyes still observed him curiously: “Are you sure you’ll be alright?” she asked, “shall I stop by later to check up on you?” The potions master gave her a little smile: “No need, Di, I’ll be most likely asleep already. And you of all people know best that it's quite difficult to wake me up.” The DADA teacher still looked at him slightly suspiciously, but said nothing more. Aesop knew he’d have to apologise to Abraham for not sticking around for his show, but he felt that he was doing so for more than a good reason. If he told his friends of this reason, he was actually half certain they’d support his decision, but… but he wasn’t prepared to let them know just yet. Especially since it was this fresh.

Dinah and Abraham were some of the best people Aesop ever met, but he couldn’t risk them doing or saying anything that would cause his sweetheart distress (despite their best intentions surely), or Merlin forbid scare her off. After all she and Aesop went through, Aesop wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle it.

—-

The former Auror managed to complete making the necessary arrangements for the night quite swiftly, and yet, before he even noticed, it was lunchtime. He slowly made his way through the corridors, content his leg was indeed quite agreeable today. It would seem the extra warmth of his bed when his lover was present in it did it some good. Slightly illogical, perhaps, but Aesop liked to believe so. Just as he was about to open the door to the Library, the sweetest voice rang through the air: “Are you not going for lunch, professor Sharp?”

He turned his head. His sweetheart was standing behind him, obviously having just emerged from the second entrance to the Library, noticing him. They were alone in the Central Hall, but it was better to be safe than sorry, so they needed to play their roles of a mentor and his student and nothing more. It was something they agreed upon the very first evening. Their relationship wasn’t truly forbidden per se, but Aesop had no doubt some people would frown upon it.

“Ah, Miss (L/N),” he said cooly, his eyes warm and betraying his otherwise aloof expression, “I find myself in dire need of Puffskein fur for Cough potion. My throat is quite sore, I’m afraid, and I do believe the shops in Hogsmeade are closed for today, so I was just about to refresh my memory on how to extract it properly without hurting the creatures. Now that I think of it - you are quite formidable with beasts, aren’t you? Professor Howin has nothing but good things to say about you.”

The girl was smiling softly, looking perfectly innocent: “I have handled a few Puffskeins, yes. Can I assist you in any way, professor?”

“I would greatly appreciate that Miss. If you would be so kind and meet me after supper close to the den by the road leading to Hogsmeade? I trust you know which one I mean?” Aesop climbed back up the stairs until he was once more towering over the Ravenclaw. He made sure to keep his proper distance, even though every part of him screamed to touch her, to reach out and take a hold of her hand at the very least.

“Certainly, sir, I’ll be there.” He allowed himself a small smile at her, one that could be perceived as perfectly friendly, but the professor knew she would understand its true meaning: “Oh, and make sure not to overeat in the evening, in case you’ll be forced to give the creatures something of a chase. I’m sure there’ll be food enough at the celebrations tonight.”

“Yes, professor Sharp,” she grinned toothily, “shall we go for lunch then?”

“Lead the way, Miss.”

—-

“Where are you taking me?” his young lover asked as Aesop led her through the darkened corridors of Hogwarts by the hand. It almost seemed like they were going in the entirely opposite direction from the flying class lawn where the fireworks would be set off in about two hours. The few students remaining at Hogwarts over the holidays as well as the teachers were already congregating there, and from what the young woman saw earlier, it would seem there would indeed be some refreshments there as well as some music while everyone waited for the new year to roll around.

As the two lovers stepped onto the rickety wooden bridge the Ravenclaw never quite trusted and preferred to fly over, she was certain that wherever they were going, it wasn’t to see the Hogwarts’ New Year’s festivities. And indeed, as soon as they stepped out from the bounds of Hogwarts, the change in the energy around them palpable, Aesop looked her deep in the eyes, his own two dark orbs reflecting the pale moonlight above.

“Do you trust me?” he asked with a little smile. The young woman was instantly won over by that smile, and found herself nodding despite the question not yet having reached her mind fully. Which is why the sudden pull of side-by-side apparition knocked the wind out of her lungs, and when her two feet touched the ground again, she actually stumbled, her head spinning.

A pair of strong arms caught her before she hit the ground, and set her straight. “I’m sorry,” Aesop’s baritone cut through the vertigo, and she blinked rapidly, trying to see him in the faint lights from somewhere behind her. He looked genuinely apologetic. “I’m so sorry dear, I should have perhaps warned you better…” And with that, he once more enclosed her in his embrace and she couldn’t find it in herself to be too cross with him, not when she felt so safe and so home all of a sudden. She closed her eyes and waited for the dizziness to pass.

“W-where are we?” she asked, opening one eye to see if the surroundings would once more begin spinning around her. Aesop slowly released her, grinning: “Why don’t you take a look?”

And so she did. It was dark, and the snow they were standing in was up to their calves, but then she noticed the lights again, and she saw the dark waters of Black lake reflecting the moon above. They were in Keenbridge, or rather, they were some 150 metres from where the little hamlet began.

“I know it’s not the Hogwarts fireworks”, Aesop said slowly, suddenly self conscious about the plan. He should’ve made sure it was alright with her before unexpectedly apparating the two of them all the way here, what was he thinking?! “But… Well, they have very beautiful fireworks here too. And while they’re not as large, the lights reflect off the water and it’s nearly twice as spectacular… don’t tell professor Ronen I said that. And, well… The only places for us to be alone while watching the show in the castle, they weren’t exactly… romantic. And here they’ve got a lovely inn with vacant rooms, good drinks… And very few people know us here, we won’t have to sneak around or hide, and I…” he caught his breath, “I’m so sorry, dear, I thought- hmm!” Aesop wasn’t able to finish his awkward little speech as the object of his undying affections jumped into his arms once more and stole a breathtaking kiss of his lips, one that made his head spin more than any amount of apparating ever could.

“It was never about the fireworks, Aesop,” she said quietly when their mouths finally parted, both of their faces hot, and their hearts beating in crescendo. Aesop smiled softly, and closed his eyes. Their foreheads pressed together briefly before he once more took her hand: “Come. Let’s get to the inn so we can warm up.”

The two of them set off towards the village, their heavy winter clothing protecting them from the cold, but also making them way more difficult to recognise. The young woman stepped closer to brace him, so that Aesop had an easier time walking through the thick snow towards the path. The hamlets around Hogwarts looked more magical than ever during the winter months, and even during her particularly turbulent fifth year, when the Highlands were riddled by bandits, goblins and poachers (now severely less so, thanks to the work of her and her friends, followed by Aesop’s appeal on more competent Aurors being placed around the area), the tiny villages held a sense of peace and serenity when covered by snow. Christmas decorations still adorned the houses, and there were people congregating on the streets, sitting in front of their houses, or generally roaming the hamlet. Children were running around, squealing as they played some sort of game together, and everyone seemed to be eagerly waiting to welcome the new year. The young woman was happy not to see one Fatimah Lawang among the people present. As if Aesop read her mind, he gave her a covert grin: “She goes to see her family over the holidays.” The two of them talked about the shop owner on previous occasions, both of them being rather frustrated with the woman. The inn and the alehouse under it were flowing with life, patrons laughing, chattering, some singing. A few people it seemed were already quite tipsy from their consumption of alcoholic beverages. Nobody seemed to pay the two of them too much mind as they walked through the village green. They entered the alehouse and approached the bar. A beautiful plump woman, maybe forty or so, with a large smile and happy eyes stood behind it, cheerfully chatting with two younger men, both of them obviously a little drunk.

“Speaking of which, Susie dear, you still haven’t given me your ‘yes’!” one of them slurred, making the witch giggle. “Why would I? What would I even do with a young buck like yourself!” A fit of laughter broke out. Clearing his throat, Aesop got ‘Susie’s’ attention. She turned to him, her smile still present. “Good evening. I wrote to you about a room?” he said. “Oi, see that, Sue? An old geezer like him with a young bird like her, and they’re having themselves a very happy new year!” the young man hollered, his voice getting sly on the words ‘very happy’, “and you won’t give me even a chance!”

Aesop tensed at the man’s words, prompting his lover to grab his hand gently, stroking it with her fingers in an attempt to calm him down. “Pardon Charles here please, he’s something of a loud mouthed idiot even when he’s sober. Mind, that doesn’t happen all that often,” Susie said, casting a reproachful look at ‘Charles’ who was happily sipping on whatever it was in his tankard. “Your room is ready, up the stairs and first door to the right” she continued, the smile returning to her face, “there’s some food and champagne, just like you asked for in your letter. I started a fire in the hearth, so you two should be perfectly warm, and a tub is in the adjacent room, should you want a bath. Feel free to check out whenever, it’s not like we’re expecting anyone tomorrow.”

Aesop thanked the innkeeper and put a few Galleons on the bar for her. The couple slowly ascended the stairs, the sound of Susie and Charles bickering and talking loudly among themselves following them until they entered the rented room. It must’ve been enchanted, the young woman thought, as she could no longer hear the sounds coming from the pub underneath them, but only the faint noises from outside.

Their room was quite small, but looked very cosy with the simple pastoral wooden furniture consisting of a large bed with nice smelling white sheets and brown tartan duvet, a small nightstand, vanity dresser, and a table upon which a variety of bite-sized foods were just waiting for them to dig in. Some pastries, tiny servings of regular meals, there was even fresh fruit, like grapes and strawberries. And, of course, there was a cauldron containing ice and a nice-looking bottle of champagne, small droplets of condensation rolling down the cold bottle. Next to the cauldron sat a pair of decorated crystal champagne flutes, which looked almost out of place in the otherwise simple room. As Susie promised, the room was nicely warm and the two of them immediately took off their cloaks.

The Ravenclaw could see the village green from the window on one side of the room, and there was even a door leading to a small balcony. Overall, it was a neat little abode, and most importantly, it was for just the two of them.

“Lovely place,” The girl commented with a smile, turning to face him. “Yeah…” Aesop replied, “this might be the first time I see the place properly.” Her questioning look prompted him to give her a wry grin: “I stayed here a few times, in this room as well, when I was younger. I could have been around twenty back then, training to become an Auror, and you know how young men are,” Aesop nodded his head towards the door slightly apprehensively. “After a few pints of ale, and perhaps some other beverages, I’d be entirely unfit to apparate, or, Merlin forbid, use a broom to go back home. Besides, I didn’t want my mother to see me like that, so I didn’t Floo over either, and instead stayed here. Suzanne was just helping her parents here back then, fresh out of Hogwarts. She’s one of the good ones, conveniently forgetting every drunken love confession said to her during the evenings.”

His young lover grinned at him mischievously: “Oh? Have you confessed your love to her as well, when you were twenty?” A strange look came over Aesop’s face momentarily: “Not me. But… Someone I knew.” He shook his head then, seemingly trying to chase his thoughts away to once more focus solely on his sweetheart.

During the past few years, the two of them talked a lot about all kinds of things, including their respective traumatic experiences, but neither of them were able to talk of it in full as of yet. There were moments during which Aesop trailed off and locked up, his walls falling back into place. And the Ravenclaw, well, when things got too hard, when her eyes filled with tears and her breath caught in her throat, the professor changed the subject to calm her down and distract her. She hoped that one day the two of them would be ready to tell the other everything, to finally bring down all of those walls together, and use the leftover imaginary bricks to build a strong foundation for their shared future.

Till then, however, the last thing she wanted was for Aesop to spiral down into sorrow, especially on a night as beautiful as this. So she did the first thing that came to mind and gently took a hold of his face. She brought him down until their cheeks pressed together, until the comforting scent of his soft hair reached her nose, until she felt his arms moving around her on their own accord.

“I can see now why you only wanted me to eat light supper. Puffskein chasing indeed.,” she said in a light tone, caressing his hair. “Didn’t want to spoil the surprise. And while the food here could never compare to the frankly incredible treats the house elves prepare during the holidays, I dare say it’s rather fantastic as well.”

The couple shared a quite late second dinner then, trying the various foods traditional for Hogmanay. Haggis left the young woman feeling a bit undecided, but stovies, cock-a-leekie soup, and the bite-sized venison pies were a big hit with her. Aesop of course couldn’t complain, all of these were meals he grew up with and liked a lot. However, there weren’t many meals he disliked - being an Auror teaches one to appreciate any and all food available. Therefore it felt simply so much better, watching his sweetheart, who grew up in an upper-class muggle household, enjoying the food of ordinary folk up here so much. Shortbread she decided would go fantastic with tea, and she was positively beaming at the cranachan. Before she could take a bit of the black bun cakes prepared, however, Aesop stopped her.

“Keep this one for last. We’ll use it for first-footing,” he said with a smile.

“For what?”

The potions master smiled even more: “First-footing. It’s a Scottish tradition, muggle one. First person to enter a house after midnight is to bring good luck to the household, as well as some gift, which is then shared. Black buns are one of the possible gifts. Conveniently, it’s believed that tall, dark haired men are the luckiest when it comes to this tradition.”

His sweetheart chuckled heartily. Her parents weren’t too interested in traditions like these - they believed them to be an anachronism, silly habits that were a thing of the past. They were modern, intelligent people, after all, they had no time for some ‘spiritual nonsense’. She was fairly certain the only reason they attended church was because everyone else did, and they didn’t want to stand out. She personally, however, found various traditions fascinating, and after coming to Hogwarts, she spent some time looking up all the various wizarding traditions… However, in her thirst for knowledge of the wizarding world and its traditions, she may have foregone studying up on the muggle ones.

“You’re going to have to explain more traditions to me,” she said finally, prompting her lover to reach over and peck her on the lips quickly. He then blindly fished his pocket watch out from his breast pocket and looked at it.

“Quarter to midnight,” he announced, “why don’t you take the flutes, I’ll take the bottle and we’ll get ready outside?” His lover immediately set out to comply, carefully grabbing the two glasses and making her way over to the balcony. Aesop held the door for her and they slipped out onto the chilly December air. There was a small table and not much else. As soon as the girl carefully deposited the glasses there, she felt something warm being draped over her shoulders. It turned out to be a thick blanket, obviously enhanced with a heating charm, and she gladly snuggled into the warm material, but not before insisting her lover share it with her.

They watched the people excitedly flutter about, looking at their own pocket watches almost every other minute. As midnight neared closer and closer, mothers began gathering their children to lead them back to the rest of the family. Violins and pipes were played below the couple, in the open-air pub. In the next few days, the village would no doubt return to being the quaint quiet place the young woman knew, but for now, it was bursting with life almost as much as Hogsmeade on a weekend.

“Fifteen seconds till midnight, fowk!” came from somewhere beneath them, and the general tension in the air seemed to have intensified by a hundred. There was giggling and excited talking, and then -

“Ten! Nine! Eight!�� the people on the village green chanted. Aesop had the champagne bottle ready in his hands, his fingers teasing over the cork while his sweetheart, slightly trembling with excitement next to him, kept her eyes trained on the sight below. “Three! Two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

The hamlett exploded into loud cheering, laughing, and singing. Women were getting spun around and kissed, many pops of champagne bottles being opened could be heard, and one of them sounded right next to the young woman. She only just noticed the cork flying off somewhere into the distance before their flutes floated in front of them, ready to be filled. Aesop poured both of them a fair amount of the sparkling shimmering liquid, then lowered the bottle on the table.

His partner was looking at him with nothing but love in her eyes. His free hand found hers, and he squeezed it. A slightly nervous look flew over him and he cleared his throat: “I-... I’m not actually very good at toasts.” The girl gave him a smile and chuckled breathlessly. How does ‘to us’ sound?” she asked, her eyes sparkling more than their wine. “To us… sounds perfect,” Aesop replied, his voice hoarse with emotion. “To us,” his sweetheart repeated, lightly clinking her glass against his own.

Both only managed to have a small sip of the champagne before hurriedly putting their flutes back on the table in order to kiss one another deeply, ardently, the blanket slipping down their bodies and on the wooden floor of the balcony. They were standing out in the cold, the air nipping at their ears, but wrapped in each other’s embrace they felt so warm, they might as well have been standing on a tropical island. The auror thirstily drank the wine off his sweetheart’s lips, his tongue eagerly exploring her mouth, when suddenly the entire sky lit up. And while the first bang of the fireworks cut through the air like a knife through butter, the two lovers did not separate just yet.

The fireworks setting off around them were exactly what kissing the professor was like, in the girl’s opinion, and she happily accepted the attack on her lips. However, once the time came for the two of them to take a breath, she finally saw the colourful explosions in the sky and couldn’t keep the smile off her face. The smile was rather addictive, Aesop found. And as much as he too appreciated the beauty of fireworks, at that moment it occurred to him that they never looked as beautiful as they did right now, reflected in her large eyes.

It was not the Hogwarts fireworks, but it was utmostly beautiful nonetheless, the lights and colours truly mirrored the dark waters of the Black lake, and it was as if the entire world turned into an impressionist painting. The former Auror wrapped a strong arm around his lover’s shoulders holding her against his side tenderly, as colourful sparks filled their entire visions, forming into various shapes and dissipating slowly only to be replaced by different ones.

And then, as the cracks and booms got lesser and lesser, he whispered into her ear: “Take out your wand.”

Her look was curious, but she didn’t hesitate. Slowly, he moved to stand behind her, his strong chest pressing securely against her back, grabbing her wrist in his hand and pointing it at the sky. “Repeat after me: ‘Lucentia Fulguris’,” he whispered again, his breath scorching hot upon the cold skin, prompting her to shiver slightly. “Lucentia Fulguris,” she repeated. “Good, good. I’ll move your hand now. Say it again,” Aesop said and held her wrist tighter.

And as the girl began to speak, the professor began moving her hand in an intricate pattern: “Lucentia Fulguris!” A long golden stream shot out of her wand and flew upwards, higher into the sky. Just as it got directly above the entire village, it exploded into a brilliant storm of sparkles of gold and white. She never saw a firework like that before, and it was simply incredible. Some sparks turned into long wines that slowly descended upon them, while others simply shimmered around in the sky. Fireflies like lights began buzzing through the air, charming not only the young woman, but also the people below them, the children especially.

Finally, all of the sparks began flying upwards, back to the original spot, forming a large ball of pure shimmering light until it exploded once more, bird-like shapes made of pure flame flying away from it in all directions for a bit before dissolving in the dark sky.

The hamlet erupted into renewed cheering and clapping. It seemed that nobody knew who cast the spell, and nobody really cared, the girl supposed. The main thing was that it was a beautiful display of magic, one more wonderful than all of her own ancient magic in her opinion. Aesop’s hand left her wrist, and his arm joined the other around her waist instead, careful not to squeeze her too tightly.

“That was beautiful, Aesop,” she whispered, not wanting to break this delicate moment. A pair of lips pressed against her temple. “Thank you,” he replied, holding her still. She turned her head towards him again, her eyes closed and lips parted in clear invitation. She didn't need to ask Aesop twice. They continued to kiss for a few moments, before Aesop remembered where they were. While the people on the streets had long since begun their journeys home, and the only folks remaining were audibly tipsy, the former auror decided not to risk it. After all, some people in the village did know him, and some knew his lover as well. No use making a spectacle out of the two of them, when the entire point of their little trip today was having some privacy.

“Come, we should head inside,” he whispered.

She nodded, collecting the blanket from the floor, and made way to the door. Aesop only just managed to stop her by taking hold of her arms tightly and suspending her where she stood. She startled slightly, her hand twitching for her wand again. Was something wrong? Did Aesop see someone in their room from the window?

“W-what’s wrong? Aesop?” she breathed, panic setting in. “You can’t go in first,” Aesop replied, “First-foot, remember?”

Several seconds passed, but then a small chuckle escaped her mouth, and soon she was giggling. “Merlin’s bloody beard!” she threw her head back. It landed on his shoulder and their eyes connected: “I was worried there was some danger, like an intruder in our room or something!” Aesop’s cheeks flushed. He supposed he could’ve just told her to wait instead of fully grabbing her to keep her from moving.

“I didn’t know you were this serious about the traditions,” she teased then, giving him a mischievous smirk, prompting his face to warm up further. “I’m not… not usually…” he was visibly getting a bit flustered, “I know it’s quite silly actually, but I… I honestly need all the good luck I can get. I have to be the luckiest man alive for a woman like yourself to stay with me...” His sweetheart’s eyes softened and so did her smile. She lifted his face by the chin: “Alright, Mr Tall Dark-haired man, why don’t you go and bring us both some good luck?”

Aesop smiled at her gratefully, before going around her. He stepped back into the room, and then extended his hand to her. She took it, letting him pull her after him. “I bring you this little bun as a gift,” he proclaimed slightly dramatically with a mischievous grin, fishing out the small pastry wrapped in a handkerchief out of his pocket. He offered it to his companion, and she didn’t hesitate in biting into the sugary treat. The mix of raisins, currants, almonds and various spices began a symphony of taste in her mouth, and she closed her eyes in order to be able to savour it fully. “Ad now, as a little reward for having brought good luck to the household, I’ll have myself a quick bite of something to eat,” facetiousness coloured Aesop’s voice, and he quickly dipped his head in order to capture the rest of the dessert into his mouth, their lips touching briefly. The girl hurriedly put her hand in front of her mouth as laughter broke through her. She finally swallowed her bite: “Merlin’s beard, you’re on fire today, Aesop,” she said between chuckles.

“Just… excited, that’s all. Happy…” he replied sheepishly after swallowing his half of the pastry. “So am I… I love you,” said his sweetheart sincerely before pulling him in for another kiss, this one dessert-free. The former auror pulled her with him as he began backing up. He sat on the edge of the bed, and she wasted no time in doing the same.

A few deep, lengthy kisses soon led to ones more passionate and fervent. Tongues slid against each other in a sensual dance, teeth chased after tender skin, hands were getting tangled in hair and used to map out the other's form. Somehow, and they barely even knew how, given the fact they were rather preoccupied with their urgent snogging, the young woman ended up in his lap, her best efforts to mess his hair up as much as possible, resulting in her rocking upon him ever so slightly.

Suddenly, Aesop dipped his head down, uneven teeth closing up upon her pulse point, and a surprised moan rolled from her kiss-swollen lips. Aesop stopped. He looked up at her and in a moment of clarity so absolute, she might as well have been naked in front of him, he noticed the obvious signs their fiery interaction had left a mark. Her pupils were dilated, eyes clouded over, her cheeks darkly flushed, her breathing laboured. The sight caused his already stirring shaft to begin filling up slowly. Her eyes widened and he got nervous. Blast it. All of his effort to not press his hips against her in his sleep, and he goes messes things up when fully awake.

"Uh, I’m s-sorry, dear, I-... Um, that's-"

"Do I arouse you?" She breathed out, a small smile dancing upon her lips, her pupils getting so large, her iris was barely visible in the low light. Her cheeks got even darker with both excitement and slight embarrassment.

Seeing she wasn't disgusted, afraid or uncomfortable, Aesop gave a breathless chuckle, then another, then another. "Do you truly not know the answer to that question? Or do you just want me to say it?" he asked in a hoarse whisper. As if to emphasise his question, his cock gave another throb, making him struggle to stifle a groan. His young lover said nothing, but blinked at him slowly, biting her lower lips unconsciously.

"Yes. Very much so," he finally said, "you are an attractive woman, my sweet, one of the most beautiful, if not the most beautiful one I've ever seen. If I didn't get aroused by having you sitting in my lap like this… Well, I'd be pretty certain I'm dead."

His young lover beamed at him, and once more connected their lips, prompting another chuckle from the potions master.

Their eyes met then, and Aesop couldn't not smile at her. Slowly, he helped her move so rather than sitting in his lap, she was straddling his healthy leg. They didn't need to speak about it - this wasn't the right time, the right place. While both of them were in love with each other for quite some time, this was still a big step they weren't ready for. They both knew it, and didn't need to say it out loud.

However, they now knew that their bodies craved, and that the spark between them could absolutely turn into a Fiendfyre if left to burn.

Aesop embraced his sweetheart tightly, putting her head on his shoulder while his large hands stroked her back. They let their bodies calm down gradually, just like the hamlet around them got quieter and quieter. And then, when the last customer drunkenly rolled out of the tavern below them, slurring some old Scottish song, the lovers' previous passion was replaced by calm tenderness.

"I haven't brought my nightgown," she said quietly. Aesop grinned: "how could you have brought it? You didn't know we'd be going here. Worry not, though. I brought you my nightshirt to sleep in. It's... Not as pretty as yours, doesn't have the lovely lace and such, but it's soft, and it's warm. Want to go change now, and we can finish our champagne and talk some more?"

She smiled and nodded at him, before slowly rising off the bed.

The young woman entered the adjacent room - it was a small bathroom, with a fairly large clawfoot bathtub with a bronze finish that took up most of the room, a basin stood upon a wooden cabinet with a pitcher of water next to it, and a few more empty cabinets. There was no water closet, and she cringed at the mere thought of having to make use of a chamber pot while with Aesop, so if she needed to use the loo, she’d have to find a privy outside most likely… . Ah, well, you win some, you lose some, she thought as she began disrobing.

The warmth of the other room didn’t quite reach the bathroom, and gooseflesh appeared on her body. While she undressed, she observed the large tub. In her mind’s eye, she was able to perfectly picture lounging about in there, submerged in the hot water, her back leaning against Aesop’s strong chest. She knew his chest was hairy, she saw a few strands peek out from under his sleeping shirts, but she didn't know just how hairy he truly was. And she was looking forward to finding out one of these days…

She pulled on the shirt he lent her, and felt near instant comfort. It truly felt very soft and warm, just like he said, but she was also suddenly enveloped by his scent. The young woman gathered the fabric by the collar (which was hanging rather low) into her hands and brought it to her nose, inhaling deeply. At that moment she knew Aesop would not be getting his shirt back, no no, it would conveniently disappear in the morning.

She realised perfectly that once term resumed, she might not be able to fall asleep within his arms every single night. The thought positively scared her, as she became pretty much addicted to feeling his warmth next to her while she slept, feeling his chest move as he breathed evenly, feeling his heart thumping beneath her ear. She even found his occasional snoring endearing, something she thought was rather mental, actually. Therefore, sleeping in his shirt on the nights she wasn’t able to warm up his bed, while not ideal, was the next best thing.

She took a look at herself in the mirror. She was getting positively lost in the large nightshirt, and had to actually grab some of it into her hands not to trip over the hem. She exited the bathroom to find him lounging on the bed, now also donning his sleepwear, seemingly deep in thought, all the while popping a strawberry into his mouth every now and then. He smiled at first when he saw her emerge, but then his eyes dropped to her body clad in his sleepwear and he looked like he forgot to breathe for a moment. The girl felt strangely exposed to him, despite the fact he saw her in her own nightgown several times already. Well, the cleavage on her own wasn’t quite this low, but still. She blushed, but walked towards him to sit on the bed.

Carefully, she arranged the nightshirt to cover her while she put both feet up and crossed her legs. Aesop mirrored her, but not before offering her a strawberry, which she accepted with a smile, letting him plop it into her mouth. Their champagne floated through the air towards them, and it just now occurred to her that they left it outside earlier, and Aesop obviously had to go back for it. Before she could take a hold of the flute to sip on the sparkling wine, the potions master dropped another strawberry into it.

“So,” the girl said quietly after they clinked their glasses again and drank, “what other holidays do you celebrate, which traditions do you keep?” She was genuinely curious, as the idea of no-nonsense serious former Auror doing little muggle rituals for good luck, and carefully keeping to traditions was incredibly endearing. Of course, she’s long since known that Aesop wasn’t always serious. He had this sense of dry humour, occasionally darker, and made her laugh many times with his little jabs and jokes, but she knew he could get slightly mischievous too. Every once in a while, an almost boyish sparkle found its way into his eyes, along with a toothy grin that betrayed his age, making him appear all youthful and cocky, and seeing this expression on his distinguished face always gave her a little inner shiver, and made her heart throb for him.

Of course, throb it did almost every time he smiled, no matter how.

And it seemed that unlike the entire previous year she longed for him, he finally started noticing the effect he had on her, as his smile in answer to her question got even wider. He motioned for her to move and lean back against the headboard of the bed, soon joining her in the new position, his free arm curling around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, smiling unconsciously at the warmth she instantly felt, the feeling so familiar despite the two of them only having revealed their feelings to each other the week prior.

Aesop talked about the various traditions and little holidays he’d keep and celebrate, occasionally even talking about his muggle father and witch mother, and how things used to be when he was a young lad, long before stepping a foot into Hogwarts. There were pauses, and the young woman could tell that some parts were difficult for him to talk about, so she always used her hand to gently stroke at his good leg to let him know that he didn’t have to tell her if he felt uncomfortable. A few times he took her up on the way out, more often however, he just took a deep breath and talked, seeming considerably more relaxed after he got the words off his chest.

She too talked a bit more about her upbringing. Aesop already knew a fair amount, of course from their regular chats over tea, but never before did she really speak up about how she felt about things her parents did and said. It was, after all, easier to talk about how one’s father goes to this and that London club for gentlemen, than talking about how it was to feel like one is not appreciated for the kind of person they are by their own parents. And the professor caressed her back gently, holding her through it. The bottle became emptier and emptier as the night dragged on, and the two lovers’ eyes started getting heavy, their speech becoming very slightly slurred under the effects of alcohol. Luckily, the champagne also worked in making their at first serious conversation turn into a more lighthearted one, and they were once more smiling by the time Aesop said: “Hmm… gettin’ really late… really early, actually. Shall we get some shut eye?”

The two were huddled together more than when they started talking, now more lying down than sitting, sharing their body warmth and the same breath. The girl didn’t say anything, only murmuring in agreement, drinking the last few drops of her glass’ contents, before using her wand, which she put on the nightstand earlier, to float the glass away on the table. It landed a bit too harshly, making her wince, but it luckily didn’t break.

“And that, my dear,” Aesop chuckled, “is why a good innkeeper knows to confiscate the wands of people who had a little bit too much to drink. A completely sloshed bugger handling an object that could very easily light things on fire or outright explode them is not a clever combination apparently.” The potions master actually got up from the bed to take care of his own glass, before walking to the door.

“Where are you going?” his sweetheart asked confusedly. He chuckled, and awkwardly rubbed at his neck: “That’s a lot of champagne we drank. I don’t want to wake up in two hours or so…” Realisation widened her eyes, and she actually chuckled: “That’s a clever idea actually… Where- where exactly is it?” “Don’t worry, you won’t have to go outside into the cold. There’s a shared closet at the end of the hall. It’s enchanted, so the… contents are immediately vanished away.”

The young woman waited for her lover to return, once more using the opportunity to bring the nightshirt he lent her to her nose and inhale his scent. After a few minutes, he stumbled back into the room with a little grin. “I am happy to report that both the hallway and the closet are free of any drunks on the verge of passing out. At least they are now, seeing as I’m back here,” he snorted with amusement before sitting back on the bed. “You best hurry,” said the professor then, “I meant it, I find myself very close to falling asleep, and I’d be much happier to do that with you in my arms.”

The Ravenclaw smiled at his sentiment and kissed him quickly, before also making her way to the john. The inn was eerily quiet now, everybody obviously having gone to bed at least two hours ago. After she was finished and her hands were washed, she quickly walked back, both the hallways and the netty being quite chilly. Entering the room, she immediately noticed Aesop wasn’t lying when he said he was on the brink of passing out. He was resting against the headboard again, his eyes closing, but when he noticed her, his lips spread into a lazy smile, and his right hand went to pat the spot on the bed next to him.

The girl didn’t need to be asked twice. She didn’t even bother going around the bed to lie down, and instead almost jumped onto the bed, forcing quiet chuckles out of the professor, even as she crawled into his arms. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said then, his voice slightly raspy, “have you any idea what you’re doing to my poor heart? Looking like this, all pretty and perfect, jumping into bed after me… Makes it a bit difficult for me to keep my head out of the gutter.” She bit at her lip a bit, their earlier impromptu… romp upon the sheets making her body wake up. She felt a mix of emotions - shyness and slight embarrassment, but there was no doubt that she desired. Craved. That she’d… explore this newfound heady feeling later, but for now, she was just glad to be once again held by him.

The potions master seemed to agree with her unspoken debate as he gently cradled her close to him, making sure his hands were resting upon her back respectably, and there was a gap between their lower halves. He used his healthy leg to get the blanket folded at the foot of the bed higher up, so that he could wrap the warm material around the two of them. Then, with a wave of his hand, the room was plunged into near darkness, the only light coming from the flames in the fireplace.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered after a few seconds. “Hm?” murmured the girl, sleep already claiming her fast, “what for?” “My comments and such. I don't want to make you uncomfortable. It's been more than a decade since I last… courted someone… Now that I think about it, though, it's been even longer. Properly courted, that is. I’m more than a little rusty. So, please, if I ever say or do anything that’s outside of your comfort zone, feel free to smack me on the head, I promise this old dog is still able to be taught,” one of the professor’s hands caressed her face and hair gently, his thumb mapping out her features. “I’m not uncomfortable…” she replied, her voice just as quiet, “this is all… entirely new to me. I’m feeling things I have never felt before with anyone, and it’s amazing, brilliant, and slightly overwhelming. And knowing that we both… desire the other… it’s such a foreign new concept to me… one that doesn’t frighten me or make me uncomfortable, but…” “It’s a big thing,” he finished, “a big thing that should not be rushed. We’ll both know when the time is right.” “And until then… until then we’ll learn how this thing goes. Together,” she offered, smiling despite only being able to see him a little bit. But she could see the flash of his teeth in a grin unmistakably. It just made sense - she was new to this absolutely, while his own romances were a thing of the distant past. But together, they’d be able to learn and see what worked best for them. And while neither said it, there was a shared knowledge that they’d do their very best to take the love between them, and work upon it, stoke its already brightly burning flames, and slowly explore the other from the inside out. They’d make it work.

They kissed tenderly, arms holding onto the other, hearts beating at the same rhythm. Aesop’s baritone broke the silence of their room as he slowly began singing Auld Lang Syne. His voice was quiet and soft, nearly hypnotic, and it soon lulled his darling into peaceful slumber, and when his fatigue won, and he fell into the land of dreams, he did so knowing that this was meant to be.

They were meant to be.

Hello and thank you for reading! You can also check this story and all of my other stories over on AO3

I'm insanely grateful for feedback ❤

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #fanfiction #reader insert #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x mc #aesop sharp/you #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #mc reader #new year's eve #fluff #established relationship #aesop sharp x you

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alexannedra · 6 years ago

Text

Vulpes vulpes

In the Scandinavian countries, foxes were believed to cause the northern lights. These aurora were called "revontulet" in Finland, meaning "fox fires". Foxes sometimes replaced cats as witch´s familiars in medieval European folklore, and were occasionally persecuted in the resulting hysteria. The Japanese revered foxes as the divine messengers of Uka no Mitama, the Shinto rice goddess, although tales were also told of evil Japanese foxes that could possess people. Many cultures have stories about shape-shifting "werefoxes". In China and other Asian countries, werefoxes were demons that prolonged their lives by seducing humans and feeding off their souls. A variation of this theme is a myth common among the Siberian Koriak people, the Inuit, and various tribes of native North Americans. "The Mysterious House Keeper", tells of a fox that entered a hunter´s house and removed its skin to become a beautiful woman. When the hunter returned, he found that the woman had cleaned his house and he decided to marry her. The bliss was short lived, however, as the hunter began to complain about his wife´s smell. Her feelings hurt, she transformed back into a fox and ran away.

Some of the best known classic fox literature was written over 2,500 years ago by Aesop. His fables told stories about various intelligent animals, and were used to convey a moral point to the reader. Because of their craftiness, beauty, and solitary nature, foxes figured prominently in these fables whenever deceit, pride, or individuality was necessary to the story. One such fable is The Fox and the Grapes. In it, a red fox finds itself in a vineyard and tries to feed on the grapes hanging on the vines. Despite its best efforts, the fox just can´t reach the fruit and gives up in frustration. He saves face and consoles himself by saying the grapes were probably sour any ways. The moral of the story is that people often badmouth things they can´t have. Like many other of Aesop´s fables, the story gave rise to a popular expression (sour grapes) or proverb. With the possible exception of the lion, few other animals are mentioned as often by Aesop as the fox is.

Both clever and foolish, creative and destructive, perfectly civilized and utterly wild. Trickster foxes appear in old stories gathered from countries and cultures all over the world -- including Aesop's Fables from ancient Greece, the "Reynard" stories of medieval Europe, the "Giovannuzza" tales of Italy, the "Brer Fox" lore of the American South, and stories from diverse Native American traditions...

...but at the darker end of the fox-lore spectrum we find creatures of a distinctly more dangerous cast: Reynardine, Mr. Fox, kitsune (the Japanese fox wife), kumiho (the Korean nine-tailed fox), and other treacherous shape-shifters.

Fox women populate many story traditions but they're particularly prevalent across the Far East. Fox wives, writes Korean-American folklorist Heinz Insu Fenkl, are seductive creatures who "entice unwary scholars and travelers with the lure of their sexuality and the illusion of their beauty and riches. They drain the men of their yang -- their masculine force -- and leave them dissipated or dead (much in the same way La Belle Dame Sans Merci in Keats's poem leaves her parade of hapless male victims).

"Korean fox lore, which comes from China (from sources probably originating in India and overlapping with Sumerian lamia lore) is actually quite simple compared to the complex body of fox culture that evolved in Japan. The Japanese fox, or kitsune, probably due to its resonance with the indigenous Shinto religion, is remarkably sophisticated. Whereas the arcane aspects of fox lore are only known to specialists in other East Asian countries, the Japanese kitsune lore is more commonly accessible. Tabloid media in Tokyo recently identified the negative influence of kitsune possession among members of the Aum Shinregyo (the cult responsible for the sarin attacks in the Tokyo subway). Popular media often report stories of young women possessed by demonic kitsune, and once in a while, in the more rural areas, one will run across positive reports of the kitsune associated with the rice god, Inari."

(To read Heinz's full essay on "Fox Wives & Other Dangerous Women," go here.)

There are tales of fox wives in the West as well, but fewer of them; and they tend, by and large, to be gentler creatures. (To marry them is unlucky nonetheless, for they're skittish, shy, and not easily tamed.) An exception to this general rule can be found in the räven stories of Scandinavia. The fox-women who roam the forests of northern Europe are portrayed as heart-stoppingly beautiful, fiercely independent, and extremely dangerous.

(Fox Woman by Susan Boulet)

(Little Elvie in the Wild Wood by Catherine Hyde)

The "nine-tailed fox" of China and Japan is often (but not always) a demonic spirit, malevolent in intent. It takes possession of human bodies, both male and female, moving for one victim to another over thousands of years, seducing other men and women in order to dine on their hearts and livers. Human organs are also a delicacy for the nine-tailed fox, or kumiho, of Korean lore -- although the earliest texts don't present the kumiho as evil so much as amoral and unpredictable...occasionally even benevolent...much like the faeries of English folklore.

In the West, it's the fox-men we need to beware of -- such as Reynardine in the old folk ballad, a handsome were-fox who lures young maidens to a bloody death.

Mr. Fox, in the English fairy tale of that name, is cousin to the kumiho and Reynardine, with a bit of Bluebeard mixed in for good measure, promising marriage to a gentlewoman while his lair is littered with her predecessors' bones. Neil Gaiman drew inspiration from the tale when he wrote his wry, wicked poem "The White Road":

There was something sly about his smile, his eyes so black and sharp, his rufous hair. Something that sent her early to their trysting place, beneath the oak, beside the thornbush, something that made her climb the tree and wait. Climb a tree, and in her condition. Her love arrived at dusk, skulking by owl-light, carrying a bag, from which he took a mattock, shovel, knife. He worked with a will, beside the thornbush, beneath the oaken tree, he whistled gently, and he sang, as he dug her grave, that old song...

shall I sing it for you, now, good folk?

Jeannine Hall Gailey, by contrast, casts a sympathetic eye on fox shape-shifters, writing plaintively from a kitsune's point of view in "The Fox-Wife's Invitation":

These ears aren't to be trusted. The keening in the night, didn't you hear? Once I believed all the stories didn’t have endings, but I realized the endings were invented, like zero, had yet to be imagined. The months come around again, and we are in the same place; full moons, cherries in bloom, the same deer, the same frogs, the same helpless scratching at the dirt. You leave poems I can’t read behind on the sheets, I try to teach you songs made of twigs and frost. you may be imprisoned in an underwater palace; I'll come riding to the rescue in disguise. Leave the magic tricks to me and to the teakettle. I've inhaled the spells of willow trees, spat them out as blankets of white crane feathers. Sleep easy, from behind the closet door I'll invent our fortunes, spin them from my own skin. Although chancy to encounter in myth, and too wild to domesticate easily (in stories and in life), some of us long for foxes nonetheless, for their musky scent, their hot breath, their sharp-toothed magic. "I needed fox," wrote Adrienne Rich:

Badly I needed a vixen for the long time none had come near me I needed recognition from a triangulated face burnt-yellow eyes fronting the long body the fierce and sacrificial tail I needed history of fox briars of legend it was said she had run through I was in want of fox

And the truth of briars she had to have run through I craved to feel on her pelt if my hands could even slide past or her body slide between them sharp truth distressing surfaces of fur lacerated skin calling legend to account a vixen's courage in vixen terms

(Full poem here.) Ah, but Fox is right here, right beside us, Jack Roberts answers, a little warily:

Not the five tiny black birds that flew out from behind the mirror over the washstand,

nor the raccoon that crept out of the hamper,

nor even the opossum that hung from the ceiling fan

troubled me half so much as the fox in the bathtub.

There's a wildness in our lives. We need not look for it.

(Full poem here.)

There are a number of good novels that draw upon fox legends -- foremost among them, Kij Johnson's exquisite The Fox Woman, which no fan of mythic fiction should miss. I also recommend Neil Gaiman's The Dream Hunters (with the Japanese artist Yoshitaka Amano); Larissa Lai's When Fox Is a Thousand; and Ellen Steiber's gorgeous A Rumor of Gems (as well as her heart-breaking novella "The Fox Wife," published in Ruby Slippers, Golden Tears). Alice Hoffman's disquieting Here on Earth is a contemporary take on the Reynardine/Mr. Fox theme, as is Helen Oyeyemi's Mr. Fox, a complex work full of stories within stories within stories. For younger readers, try the "Legend of Little Fur" series by Isobelle Carmody. And for mythic poetry, I especially recommend She Returns to the Floating World by Jeannine Hall Gailey and Sister Fox’s Field Guide to the Writing Life by Jane Yolen.

#fox #folklore

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