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aesopsharpmybeloved · 1 year ago

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Lullaby For An Auror

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

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

18+ GO AWAY CHILDREN!

Lullaby For An Auror (27.2k words)

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

Aesop didn’t dream often.

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

Avada Kedavra!

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

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

It was too late, though.

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

Then, however, something changed.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What can Meeky do for Professor Sharp?”

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

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

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

Still, it was curious.

Why would he remember it?

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy.

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

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

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

—-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Indeed they are.”

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

—

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

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

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

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

She was a tough one.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Sir!”

—

Aesop hated having someone go through his things.

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

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

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

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

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

“Um…Deek?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

Professor Sharp,

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

Respectfully,

Deek

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

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

The evening couldn't come soon enough.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

How?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aesop was in for quite the show.

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

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

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

She was beautiful.

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

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

He cleared his throat.

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

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

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

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

"I promise, sir."

—

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

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

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

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

“A friend taught me…”

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

“I appreciate it, sir.”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What in the name of Merlin’s holey underpants?

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

That was it. Surely, that must be it.

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

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

Why did he remember the dreams?

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

—

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

Aesop instantly thought of his student.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was rather… curious.

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

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

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

It’s alright, Aesop decided.

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

“Why do you still want me around?”

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

The potions master would also notice other things.

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

Those he wouldn’t dare give a name to.

—

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

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

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

“(F/N),” he called out.

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

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

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

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

“Oh? How is that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“That does sound quite adventurous.”

—

What on earth was she still doing here?

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

She looked rather… She looked quite beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He tried to kiss her again.

But she was gone.

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

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

—

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

Except no, not really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Merlin’s saggy left bollock!

This cannot be happening.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was in trouble.

—

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

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

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

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

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

This one, though, this one was different.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cauldron cakes and Butterbeers, sir.”

“Well in that case, come on in!”

—-

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

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

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

And then all hell broke loose.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Professor!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes… Yes, it’s alright, (F/N).”

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

Aesop slept until morning.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, sweet Merlin, (F/N).”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

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

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

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

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

He woke up in a tangle of sheets and blankets.

—

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

It was over. Done. Finished.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except there was none.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sleep well, (F/N).”

—

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

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

“Because you are beautiful.”

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds like a good Christmas to me.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aesop woke up with a start.

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

“F-fuck, fuck!”

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

‘I love you. I love you. I love you.’

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

‘I love you.’

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

‘I love you.’

“Ah, fuck! Oh, (F/N), fuck! Hnngh!”

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

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

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

Merlin’s fucking beard.

He was completely depraved, wasn’t he?

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

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

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

Aesop closed his eyes.

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

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

—

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

Good.

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

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

“Of course I am looking forward to it!”

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

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

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

“Watch me.”

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

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

Aesop chose not to grace her words with an answer.

—

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

This wasn’t real.

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

That didn't mean anything though!

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

How did he never notice?

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

“I love you, sir.”

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

I am going to die if this isn’t real.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It took another few seconds before the young woman remembered, her brain seemingly as scrambled as his own following their intimate interaction.

“I love you?”

Aesop sighed loudly and let his face descend into the crook of her neck. His right hand stayed where it was, resting at her lower back and pressing her closer to him, while the other one slowly trailed up her back and into her hair.

“I love you,” she repeated with conviction, embracing him sweetly, holding his head in place like she held him during that horrible night some time back. Except this time, Aesop shed no tears of pain or guilt. No.

He slowly dragged his head back up, his large nose stroking along the line of her throat, brushing up her jaw, cheek, until settling just inches away from hers. He captured her gaze, held her fluttering eyes with his own. Their breath mingled between them hotly, their close proximity intoxicating more than the alcohol. From this close, Aesop was perfectly able to see all the wonderful little intricacies of (F/N) (L/N)’s face, could very nearly count each and every one of her eyelashes, deeply drank in the sight of her little freckles, small circles under her sparkling eyes.

“I love you…” she sighed again and this time, Aesop replied in kind before pulling her in for another kiss.

—

Aesop had no clue as to how much time had passed before (F/N) finally left for the night… It must have been hours, but he still felt like it was not enough. Very much not enough. Aesop transfigured their armchairs into a single sofa in front of the flames, and then… then they kissed for a long time. Kissed, talked, kissed some more, drank more of their drinks of choice, talked in hushed intimate voices, and then kissed again.

Despite his many dreams featuring the young Ravenclaw as their star, he completely forgot just how amazing it felt to just snog the living daylights out of someone. His dreams could not hold a candle to the real thing. And yet, a part of him was still terrified that he'd wake up any minute now, alone. This part of him, however, was never left to rule his mind for long. It stood no chance against the young woman's fingers in his hair, her legs thrown over his own where he sat on the sofa, her magnificent lips melding with his, their taste sweeter than Aesop ever imagined.

He slowed down everytime he could feel their bodies heating up too much, wanting to take his time. Despite his heady, deeply erotic dreams throughout the months, Aesop was determined not to take this too fast - he wished, and he craved, and he so very much longed to hold the Ravenclaw in his arms, but he never once dared hope that he would be actually allowed to. And now that he was, he made a mental vow to not take such a gift for granted. He was going to do right by her. He was going to show her that despite the fact she could have so much better than him, he was going to do everything in his power not to make her regret that she chose him.

Later, when they held one another, their hands and fingers tentatively tracing each other's features, Aesop slowly felt sleep creeping up on him. The room grew cooler as the flames died down and the professor used his considerable build to shield his companion from the cold.

—

When Aesop woke up in the morning, the first thing he felt was a twinge of panic - was it a dream? He tried to recall the night.

Soft hands. Quiet words. Sweet lips.

He wasn't wearing his sleeping clothes.

After she's left, the potions master only managed to go and relieve his bursting bladder, before renewing the fires in his room, pulling his clothes off, and falling asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.

It was Christmas Day 1893, and professor Aesop Sharp found himself questioning his own memory, something he never really had to do before. He knew she was there, judging by the glasses left in his sitting room and the neatly wrapped present from her. There was still a drop of firewhisky left in one of the tumblers, and, without further ado, Aesop gulped it down.

It wasn't until breakfast sometime later when his mind calmed down. His eyes sought her out immediately after he sat down, and he saw her looking at him covertly from the Ravenclaw table. She looked tired, with circles under her eyes, but Aesop swore that she was glowing. Has he ever seen her this happy? He allowed the tiniest little smile her way, before digging into his breakfast hungrily.

"Merry Christmas, Aesop," Dinah chirped next to him, seemingly out of nowhere.

It was. It was a merry Christmas indeed.

"Merry Christmas, Di."

—

Aesop awoke. His eyes fluttered a little before opening slowly, blinking away the slowly fading remains of slumber. First thing he saw in the dimness of his room, illuminated only by the embers in the fireplace, and the winter sun streaming into his chambers from the windows in his sitting room, was (F/N)(L/N).

She was sleeping in his arms, safe and secure, and finally, finally, his. Just to be sure, Aesop pinched his own hand, but a part of him knew that this was no dream. No. He remembered every single moment that led up to this one, every word, every kiss, every little touch. He remembered the way he stared into her brilliant eyes as sleep slowly claimed them the previous night, he remembered the feeling of her soft pyjamas underneath his fingertips, he remembered feeling the way her breathing evened out, the way it felt to have her chest pushed against his with every deep inhale.

No, no. This was no dream. He truly was in his bed, in his own set of pyjamas, and with his brilliant girl snuggled into his chest. Aesop felt the corners of his mouth lift and stretch into a grin so wide, it almost hurt. He could not remember the last time he smiled this hard, if ever. Very carefully, as not to wake her up, he ran his fingers through her sleep-matted hair, pushing it out of her angelic face. The potions master let a quiet sound of absolute contentment leave his mouth as he once more wrapped both of his arms around her body, his legs tangling with her own further below the covers.

The girl stirred as she was being lovingly smothered in Aesop’s embrace, though she didn’t seem to be complaining. In fact, she grabbed onto the fabric of his sleeping shirt, grabbing a fistful of material with each hand, she pulled him even closer, her nose dragging along his neck and breathing him in deeply.

“Good morning, Aesop,” she said, her voice muffled slightly between their bodies, “Did you have nice dreams?” Aesop chuckled breathlessly.

“No. I don't think I dreamed at all last night. But it does feel like I'm dreaming right now.”

I sincerely hope you enjoyed rading! As always, you can find this work and all of my other fics over on AO3. I am always incredibly grateful for feedback!

#aesop sharp #professor sharp #hogwarts legacy #fanfiction #reader insert #aesop sharp x reader #aesop sharp x you #aesop sharp smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #dinah hecat #amit thakkar (mentioned)#slow burn #fluff #smut and fluff #angst #hurt/comfort #aesop sharp needs a hug #aesop sharp is lying to himself

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chvoswxtch · 2 years ago

Text

lavender haze (dark mode)

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: frank castle never imagined he would ever fall in love again, and he certainly never imagined love could feel like this.

warnings: cursing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of violence, mentions of sexual content (minors pls dni), mentions of pregnancy, a lil angst

word count: 8.6k

a/n: your eyes do not deceive you, this is a repost! the first time I posted this, there was some kind of glitch that changed the color of the text which made it impossible to read on dark mode. I was unable to fix it, and i've been waiting for that glitch to be fixed. it hasn't happened with any of my, or anyone else's posts lately, so it seemed like the right time to repost this for anyone that wasn't able to read it the first time because of the dark mode issue. I truly appreciate everyone being so patient, and even reaching out to me about reposting because you wanted to be able to read it. that makes my lil heart so happy, you have no idea. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

tags: @hellskitchens-whore

Staring at the ceiling with you

Oh, you don’t ever say too much

And you don’t really read into

My melancholia

Frank didn’t know how you did it. You always seemed to just…know. You knew when he felt like talking. You knew when he didn’t. You knew when he wanted to listen to you talk about your day. You knew when he needed comfortable silence. You could tell when he wanted your touch, and when he needed to be left alone. You posed all of your questions meticulously with caution, always stopping an inch before the invisible boundary he had created. You didn’t take offense to his brooding moods that emerged from a detour into the past. You didn’t cover your ears at the silence that echoed when he got lost in the disconsolate caverns in his mind. You didn’t flinch at the scars you could touch, or the ones you could hear in his intermittent vulnerability. You seemed to understand him in a way no one ever had before. Sometimes Frank felt like you understood him more than he even did.

He gazed down at you as your eyes stayed fixated up at the ceiling. Today had been a bad day. He couldn’t remember if he had even asked if you were home before his fist was colliding with your front door, letting out a breath of relief he hadn't even noticed he was holding until your face came into focus. Did he even say hello to you? Did he utter anything at all? He couldn’t remember. Somehow the two of you had ended up on the floor by your record player, your head resting comfortably in his lap, as Elton John’s Rocket Man flowed through the speakers. He could hear you humming faintly as your eyes drifted closed for a moment, your palm delicately stretched out towards him in case he wanted to hold it, or simply letting him know you were there if he didn’t.

Music was how the two of you communicated sometimes. It was how you tried to relate to him when your own words weren’t enough. When he was quiet like this, your choices in music were more purposeful, to either let him know you understood some of what he felt, or to try to soothe the ache with what you knew he enjoyed. Sometimes Frank feared you really could read his mind, especially in moments like these when you seemed to know exactly what he needed without a single word. Even before he knew what he needed. He hated the thought of you being able to see into the carnage that occupied his skull. Of course he knew that was fucking ridiculous. He didn’t even know if you knew what you could do, and if you were aware, you never showed it.

Frank hadn’t had someone to run to in a long time. Someone he didn’t feel like a burden to in doing so. It had taken him longer than he’d like to admit to be comfortably exposed with you. Slowly but surely, he tore his own guard down brick by brick as you waited patiently. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to be a liability for you, he was also nervous about just how much of himself he could reveal without running you off. Frank had managed to find you during yet another really low point in his life; a glimmer of light through all the darkness. He still remembers the day he met you in that bookstore. He often replays that memory in his head like an old comforting home movie.

You had complimented his choice in literature as he held a worn copy of The Great Gatsby in his hands, disclosing to him that it was one of your favorites. Frank was instantly captivated by you and your sweet smile. For a good ten minutes you stood there with him, discussing books you had both read, and recommending a few of your other favorites to him that you thought he would like based on his previous reads. It made him feel so…human. There was a warmth about you that made him shiver.

To this day, Frank still doesn’t know where he found the courage to ask you to coffee, and he still has absolutely no idea why you said yes. All he knew was that he loved you, and that seemed to be enough.

I’ve been under scrutiny

You handle it beautifully

All this shit is new to me

When news broke that the Punisher was back in New York, the media had a fucking field day. Frank knew he was at fault. He had been a little too reckless and not bothered to check for cameras at the warehouse. Madani was pissed. She was giving him an earful over the phone. She wasn’t on speaker, but Frank knew you could hear every word she was saying from your spot on the couch. Every news channel seemed to be debating on the alternating justifications on why Frank was a necessary anti-hero, or why he was a psychopathic murderer. After about three minutes, you simply just shut off the tv.

Frank wasn’t even hardly paying attention to Madani’s words. Hell he didn’t even fucking care what they were saying about him on the news. If he valued public opinion, he wouldn’t be who he was. His eyes kept glancing over at you. There was a neutral look on your face, but Frank wasn’t sure if that was for your sake or his. He desperately wanted to know what was going on in your head. He didn’t know what to say. You knew who Frank was when you met, and you had never given any indication that who he really was bothered you, but that did nothing to dull the anxiety throbbing in his veins.

This was all completely unchartered territory for him, and he was absolutely lost. He had never talked to Maria about the horrors he endured and committed during his tours. Frank had vowed to keep that part of his life separate from his family when he came home. But Maria had the luxury of his anonymity. You didn’t. You didn’t have the privilege of a soldier just following orders. The evidence of his brutality was plastered everywhere for you to see. It was no longer something unspoken the two of you pretended wasn’t lurking in the shadows. It was glaring you right in the face. Frank didn’t know how you would react, and if he was being honest with himself, he was fucking scared. He didn’t want to lose the one good thing he had found that made life worth living again. He didn’t want to lose you.

Frank cut Madani’s rampage off with the pad of his thumb, placed his phone on silent, and set it face down on the counter. He would deal with that later. This was more important.

“You were never s’posed to see any of this.”

Your head perked up when his gruff voice cut through the silence. There was a tender expression in your eyes, and your lips had pulled into a sympathetic smile.

“I know. Flaunting isn’t really your style. I’m sure this will all blow over in a couple days. Dinah will calm down eventually. It’s all going to be okay, Frank.”

The conviction in your voice had a lump forming in Frank’s throat. Despite everything, here you were trying to comfort him. Frank didn’t know what to do other than settle on his knees in front of you on the floor, head nestled against your stomach as his arms wrapped tightly around your body in silent begging.

“I’m so sorry ‘bout all this, sweetheart. I didn’t…I never wanted any of this shit to come back to you.”

“Frank, you have never lied to me about who you are, and I have never pretended to not know.”

“Doesn’t mean I ever wanted you to see this side of me. I could handle you knowin’. That’s one thing. But seein’…what I do…I don’t want you to change your mind…”

Frank’s voice trailed off. He couldn’t finish that sentence. He closed his eyes as he felt your fingers carding through his hair.

“Hey, look at me.”

Frank couldn’t. He was afraid of what he would see. The disgust at his actions, the regret in your choices, the recant of your affection. It wasn’t someone else’s bullets ripping away his happiness this time. It was his own. There would be no one else to blame for this. No one else’s blood would satiate this desperate vengeance. He would have to live with his own wrath and guilt. After a moment of silence, you gently cupped his strong jaw and lifted his chin to meet your warm gaze. Frank reluctantly met your eyes, but he didn’t find the repulsion he expected. All he found was acceptance.

“I love you, Frank Castle. I know exactly who you are. I don’t need anyone else to tell me. You are the man that makes me feel safe. You are the man who makes me feel special and loved. You are the man that risks his life over and over again to protect people. You are the man that brings me daisies when you know I’ve had a bad day. You are the man that twirls me around the kitchen when we’re cooking dinner together. I know you, and I love you. Every side of you. There is nothing you, or anyone else, could ever do or say that would change the way I see you, or the way I feel about you. I promise.”

Not even Frank’s own self inflicted loathing and contempt could combat your verity. He could hear the unrelenting sincerity dripping from your words as your lips brushed past his ear. He could see the genuine devotion reflected in your eyes when he held your gaze from underneath him. He could feel the profound adoration in the gentleness of your touch, holding his face in your hands as his hips found refuge between yours. He could taste the ardent desire on your lips over and over as he made love to you right there. He could even smell the sentiment of a silent promise made from the intermingling of both of your climaxes lingering in the aftermath of his display of gratitude.

Frank didn’t know what the future held for a man like him that had ventured through hell and back several times over and cheated death more times than he could count. But he had a second chance at life, and he wasn’t going to waste it. Not when he had found you. He already felt like he won the goddamn jackpot when you agreed to that first date, and he wasn’t sure how much luck he had left to really make this work. But as long as you wanted him around, he’d be damned if he wouldn’t find a way.

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

When was the last time he had felt this happy? This…light? Frank couldn’t remember. It had to have been during the early years of being married to Maria, before he started getting deeper into classified ops that held more and more pieces of him hostage with every completed mission. Before he started to feel anxious about going home because he wasn’t sure who he was there. Before he started preferring being covered in blood dodging bullets with his unit than being around his own kids.

All of that felt like another lifetime ago. Frank supposed it was, in a way. It was all a little hazy in the back of his mind sometimes. Whether that was from the tequila you had talked him into or the way your hips were swaying to the song filling the small space of the dive bar you two had become regulars at, he wasn’t sure. Could’ve been a bit of both. But as he watched you move from across the room, a playful grin on your lips as you beckoned him over with your index finger, everything else seemed to fade away.

God, you could dance. Frank was mesmerized the first time he saw the way you could move your hips. He had thoroughly enjoyed watching you from his seat at the bar, but that was nothing compared to watching you from below that night. Frank was drawn to you like a magnet, his feet moving before his brain even caught up. He grinned when you threw your arms around his neck, pulling him down for a dizzying kiss. Frank wrapped his arms around your waist as tightly as he could, sneaking one of his large hands up the back of your shirt to feel the warmth of the soft skin on your lower back. His hands found their way to your hips of their own accord, like they always did.

“Hey, big guy.”

“Hi darlin’.”

“You weren’t gonna come dance with me?”

“Just enjoyin’ the view, sweetheart. You know I like to watch.”

Frank reveled in the way your cheeks burned a deeper shade of red, doe eyes widening and lips parting slightly in surprise. You quickly recovered, a knowing smirk taking over your mouth as you pressed your chest against his.

“Well if you wanted a private show, all you had to do was ask.”

“That right?”

Frank dipped his head to brush his nose along the underside of your jaw, pressing a gentle kiss to the skin just below your ear before nipping at it just hard enough to earn a sharp gasp from you. He let one of his large hands trail down your lower back, giving your ass a playful smack before grabbing a handful of it and squeezing gently.

“Alright then, pretty girl. Let’s get outta here.”

There weren’t always nights like this where the two of you got to go out freely and just be a regular couple. But on the occasions where you did get a little normalcy, Frank wanted it to last forever. He didn’t even want to go to sleep those nights. He just wanted to stay in the moment with you, and milk it for all it was worth. The rare moments when he wasn’t The Punisher. He wasn’t the Marine. He wasn’t a widower that had fatherhood ripped away from him. He wasn’t weighed down by the weight of the world and another lifetime of trauma and loss.

He was just Frank, and he was just yours.

All they keep asking me

Is if I’m gonna be your bride

The only kind of girl they see

Is a one night or a wife

Curt and David had both been giving Frank hell about you. They continuously kept asking him when he was gonna “lock that shit down”. The first time he had brought you around them, they were both absolutely stunned that Frank had landed someone like you. Curt had jokingly offered to give you a head exam, and David had repeatedly asked how much Frank was paying you to pretend to be his girlfriend.

“No seriously, I lived with this asshole for several months. There’s no fucking way he landed someone like you, unless he’s paying you. Granted…he did try to steal my wife once, but that was under the guise of alcohol and desperation on her part. Is that it Frank? You just keep her drunk so she doesn’t fully see your face or recognize how much of a dick you are?”

“Oh for fucks sake Lieberman, for the last goddamn time I didn’t-sweetheart you know what, just ignore him. We all do anyway.”

“What I think D is tryin’ to say is that we think it’s great you’re so involved in charity. I mean, you’re doin’ a real public service here. We appreciate your sacrifice, truly. I ain’t seen this man smile this much in…years.”

“This is why I can’t fuckin’ take y’all anywhere, Jesus Christ.”

Despite the teasing, you had fit in effortlessly with them. Anyone passing by the table would’ve thought you had all been friends for years. There was no awkwardness or hesitation to acclimate, you had even dished back your own playful banter throughout the evening earning you eyebrows raised in surprise and prideful smirks from Frank.

“Y’all keep fuckin’ with my girl, and I ain’t gonna hold her back. She ain’t always as nice as she looks. Hell, she hits harder than both of y’all combined. Trust me.”

Curt and David both adored you, not only because of how good you were for Frank, but also because they really genuinely liked you. As the months added up to a year, they both kept pressuring Frank to take the next step in your relationship. Once they had figured out you weren’t just a fling, and that Frank had truly fallen in love with you, neither one of them could wrap their head around why he wouldn’t want to make it official. Curt knew Frank would always love Maria, and that there would never be any replacing her. But he also knew that there would never be another you. You were Frank’s second shot. There wouldn’t be a third. There wasn’t room in his heart for a third.

Frank wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were way out of his league. Not only were you absolutely way too good for him, he also thought you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He noticed all the eyes on you everytime the two of you went somewhere. He didn’t miss the utter confusion written evidently on guy’s faces when you reached for his hand to intertwine your fingers together or pressed a kiss to his lips with a huge grin. He resisted the urge to stalk over and snap something out of place when their disrespectful stares lasted a little too long for his liking. But you never noticed any of it. Because every time Frank brought his gaze back to you, your eyes were already on him. They were always on him.

It wasn’t that Frank didn’t see a future with you. When he thought about what the rest of his life looked like, you were always there. He loved you entirely. He just wasn’t sure if he could be a husband again. Frank had proposed to Maria three months into their relationship because she was pregnant, and it was the right decision. Not to say that they would’ve never gotten married had she not been pregnant, but everything had happened so fast. Frank became a husband and a father almost overnight. He didn’t regret a second of his marriage with Maria, but he didn’t want to repeat it. He wanted to take his time with you. Frank wanted to savor every moment with you, just as you were. No pressure, no expectations, just you and him.

You were the first person Frank had ever met that didn’t ask him to be someone else. You didn’t ask him to hide the parts of himself that were scary. You didn’t try to tame the aspects of his life that were tumultuous. You didn’t try to redirect his daunting choices. You didn’t try to pull him in a million different directions and expect him to be someone he wasn’t. You let him be exactly who he was, and loved him all the same. Frank didn’t need a piece of paper to know how much you loved him, or that you were his. You proved that to him every single day.

I find it dizzying

They’re bringing up my history

But you aren’t even listening

Madani was on a rampage. Frank hadn’t tied things up as neatly as she had wanted, and arguably had left a bit of a mess, and she was furious. Enough to show up at his front door with Mahoney ten minutes shy of five in the morning with more rage than a person should ever have that early. Since you and Frank had recently moved in together, they were also at your front door, and Frank knew that once you were awake there was no going back to sleep for you. Pushing his own annoyance to the side, Frank apologized profusely, but you simply shrugged it off and went to the kitchen to make coffee for the four of you.

She wanted Frank to go back in and finish the job, this time wrapping everything up neatly with a bow. No loose ends. No mess. But to Frank, it wasn’t worth the risk. The previous case had taken months of prep work and careful planning. The target was high profile, with even more high profile friends, and was someone the U.S. government was not technically supposed to be going after. Madani had given Frank very strict instructions, all of which he did his best to follow, but there were unforeseen complications he had to improvise with.

“It ain’t worth the risk, Madani. They know someone’s gunnin’ for ‘em now. It ain’t gonna be as easy to catch ‘em off guard again. The security this guy has now could put the fuckin’ secret service to shame.”

“I can’t just let him go, Castle. If this guy goes underground, that’s it. We won’t have another chance. This has to happen now.”

“I get that Dinah, alright I do. But there ain’t enough time to put somethin’ together that’s gonna work. We don’t even have-”

“Oh bullshit! That’s complete bullshit Frank, and you know it. If this guy had kidnapped Karen Page, you’d be there in a heartbeat and he’d be dead by now. You have no problem running straight into the fire when your own selfish interests are at risk but not when I fucking need you to.”

Frank’s jaw tensed at the mention of Karen and his eyes immediately diverted to you. You were finally making your own cup of coffee after bringing three to the table for them. If you had reacted to her name at all, Frank didn’t see it. He had mentioned Karen briefly to you once a few months ago, and how she had helped him find David. You knew she was present for his trial and had read the articles she had written about him. You knew there was a history there. Frank hadn’t really detailed exactly what that history was or meant. He had simply said she was someone he cared about and left it at that. You never asked about it again.

Mahoney seemed to follow Frank’s gaze over towards where you were leaning against the kitchen counter. His eyes lingered on Frank for a moment before he faced Madani and cleared his throat.

“I think the point you’re missing Madani is he has no trouble doing that when it comes to certain people. If that person isn’t in danger, he’s not gonna roll up guns blazing to a suicide mission.”

“Since when the hell are you on his side, Mahoney? You need this done as badly as I do.”

“I do. But we need to be smart about this, and you need to consider all the stakes that are involved, and who those consequences fall on.”

Brett motioned his head subtly in your direction, and for the first time since shoving her way in completely blinded by anger, Dinah noticed your presence. Her wrath seemed to dissipate a little as she glanced between you and Frank, detecting the somewhat pleading look in his eyes. Halting her pacing, she finally took a seat at the dining table and let out a deep exhale of understanding.

“Alright. How do we do this Frank? What’s the smartest way, what do you need from me?”

“Patience, for starters.”

“Now Frank, you know better than to taunt an angry woman that’s got a full clip without a bulletproof vest.”

Walking by to place a kiss to Frank’s head, you shot Dinah a wink and lightly squeezed Brett’s shoulder on your way back into the bedroom. Dinah looked over at Frank in amusement, a smirk completely taking over her mouth as she brought the steaming mug to her lips.

“For the record, I like her better than you.”

“Glad we’re all in agreement then. Cause I like her a hell of a lot more than you two put together.”

After Madani and Mahoney had left, Frank made his way into your shared bedroom and leaned against the doorway to the bathroom as he watched you get ready for work.

“Shoulda warned you movin’ in with me meant house calls from Madani at ungodly hours.”

“Nothing I wasn’t prepared for.”

The smile you sent Frank’s reflection in the mirror nearly made him weak in the goddamn knees.

“Can I take ya to breakfast?”

“I’d love that. I’m almost done.”

Frank watched you silently for a moment, mesmerized by all your little movements. He liked to watch you when you weren’t paying attention, when you thought no one was paying attention to you. He loved the way your nose crinkled adorably when you got embarrassed or confused, the cute little pout that formed on your lips when something wasn’t right or working, how you were always humming something when you were lost in thought. Frank pulled you into his embrace the second you turned around, brushing his thumb lightly over your cheekbone.

“I really am sorry ‘bout this mornin’. Not just, ya’know, Madani flyin’ in like a bat outta hell. What she said ‘bout Karen-”

“I know, Frank. It’s okay. She’s right, though. If Karen was involved, you wouldn’t hesitate.”

“I wouldn’t hesitate for you either.”

A shy smile took over your lips as you leaned into Frank’s embrace, gently wrapping your small hand around his wrist.

“I know that, Frank. I know you’d do it for me too. And Curtis, and David, and even Dinah and Brett. And before you even start your protest, don’t bother. Because you’ve already done it for everyone on the list. Some of them, several times.”

“Not you, though. And I hope to God it never comes to that. But if it ever does-”

“You’re wrong.”

Frank cocked his head slightly to the side, peering down at you with brows knit in confusion.

“What?”

“You’re wrong. You have done it for me.”

“When?”

“Everyday. You save me, every single day, and you have since that day in the bookstore.”

Frank stared down at you incredulously, shaking his head slowly to himself. He wrapped his arms a little tighter around you and leaned in to press his forehead against yours.

“You keep talkin’ like that, I’m gonna take you to bed instead of breakfast.”

“Why not both?”

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

When Frank had asked you what you wanted for your birthday, your answer was simple. Him. Frank argued that you had to let him get you a birthday present after you had gone all out for him, so you compromised. Time. That’s all you asked for. Just you and him, no distractions, no responsibilities, no work, no interruptions. Frank hadn’t hardly been home the past two months, and you had been putting in a few late nights of your own even when he was. Every night he was away from you made Frank wonder how the hell he ever managed to go eighteen months without Maria.

Two weeks before your birthday, Frank told you to request a few days off and pack a bag. He wouldn’t tell you why, just said to pack comfortably for cold weather. You didn’t even bother trying to get a hint out of him. The man had been trained for torture, he wasn’t going to give into your incessant childish begging when he was so committed to his surprise. He was still tight lipped as you both loaded his truck down and took off on a three hour drive upstate. When he turned off onto a winding dirt road and caught your puzzled expression, he couldn’t help but chuckle. It wasn’t until the cozy cabin finally came into view that a gasp left your mouth. Your head snapped towards him with wide eyes as he put the truck in park.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart.”

“You got me a cabin?”

Frank threw his head back and howled with laughter, reaching over to grab onto your thigh and squeeze gently as an ear splitting grin covered his mouth.

“Well hell, if I had known you wanted one, I woulda got you one. But since someone didn’t wanna give me any ideas, I had to get creative. This is all ours for the next few days. Ain’t no one around for miles. And the best part? No cell service.”

Even though there were tears in your eyes from how thoughtful Frank’s gift to you was, it didn’t stop you from climbing onto his lap and clawing at his belt with eager hands. Frank didn’t even pretend to put up a fight. It was your birthday after all. He’d give you whatever you wanted. And if you wanted to ride him in the front seat of his truck, well then it felt like his birthday too. You and Frank nearly christened every spot in that cabin in less than 24 hours. Frank fucked you in the large plush bed in the bedroom, the hot tub, on the kitchen counter, in front of the fireplace, on the dining table, in the shower, the couch, and even against a tree when you went for a walk together in the woods.

For three days it was absolute uninterrupted bliss, and Frank had never been happier. You both took turns cooking meals, even though Frank was adamant about doing most of the cooking since it was your birthday trip. He dazzled you with his baking skills when he handcrafted a red velvet birthday cake with cream cheese frosting; your favorite. You both found a beautiful trail that had a breathtaking view of a lake and had a picnic there. Frank slow danced with you around the living room with only the glow of the fire and moon to illuminate the space. It felt like a dream neither of you wanted to wake up from.

After spending nearly an hour with his head buried between your thighs and another with his hips pressed firmly to yours, Frank held you delicately against his chest. His thick fingers ran loosely throughout your hair, lightly scratching at your scalp how he knew you liked. He watched as your fingertips carefully traced scars and indentations along his chest and abdomen. Sometimes when you laid like this, you asked him the story behind each one. But tonight, you were unusually quiet. Frank lightly nudged his nose against your temple.

“What’s goin’ on up there?”

“I don’t wanna go home.”

Your voice was small and fragile, like a shattered piece of glass that hadn’t yet fallen to pieces. Frank had almost forgotten that tonight was your last night here. He had been trying to make you forget too.

“Me neither, sweetheart. We can always come back.”

You hummed quietly in response, tracing invisible words above Frank’s heart that he couldn’t quite decipher. He placed his index finger under your jaw and lightly grasped your chin to tilt your head back.

“That it?”

Frank could see the hesitation in the depths of your eyes. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, something you always did when you were contemplating your words carefully. For a second, Frank was worried he might have done something wrong, or not done something he should have.

“We can go somewhere nice for you birthday when we get back if you wanted-”

“No, no Frank that’s not it. This…this has been the most perfect and special birthday I’ve ever had. It’s the first time I’ve even enjoyed celebrating my birthday since I was a kid. I guess I’m just…feeling selfish.”

“Selfish? You’re allowed to be selfish on your birthday, darlin’. That’s kinda the whole point, ain’t it?”

“My birthday was three days ago.”

“So?”

The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corner of your mouth as you shook your head slowly. Frank watched as your gaze dropped back down to where your fingertips were still writing invisible words.

“C’mon baby, talk to me. Feelin’ selfish how?”

“I just…don’t wanna go home. I like this. I like having you all to myself. I like being here with you, doing all these things together, feeling like I’m your…just…it’s nice.”

“My what?”

Frank dipped his head slightly to meet your gaze, but he couldn’t catch it. Whatever you wanted to say, you were guarding it.

“Your…main priority.”

Priority wasn’t the word you wanted to use. Frank knew it as soon as the words left your mouth. You couldn’t lie to save your life. He knew there was something else you wanted to say, but he couldn’t figure out what. Neither of you kept things from the other, and he couldn’t understand why you were doing that right now. He gently grabbed your neck and held your face with his fingers, searching your eyes for any kind of clue. They were shimmering with a translucent layer of sadness, but he couldn’t tell what from.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I love you, Frank.”

“You are my main priority, baby. I want you to know that. I know I been gone a lot lately, and I’m sorry ‘bout that, but you do come first. You need me, you call me. I don’t care where I am, what time it is, or how small you may think it is. You need me, you call me, and I’m there. No questions asked. You got that?”

Nodding slowly, you closed your eyes for a moment as a tear slipped past your lashes. Frank brought his thumb up to catch it before it could descend down your cheek, holding you even tighter against his chest.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t be. S’alright, honey.”

“I just miss you when you’re gone, Frank. So much. I worry about you all the time. I get scared that everytime I hear your voice on the phone might be the last…or what I would do if you didn’t come home-”

“Hey, look at me. I will always come home to you. I promise. You will always have me. Always. I miss you the second I step out that door, and all I can think about when I’m away is comin’ home to you. Nothin’ could ever keep me away from my favorite girl.”

Frank pressed his lips to your forehead in a soft kiss, lingering there for a moment as he held you tightly in his arms. He made another promise that night that once every couple of months you two would get away for a while. No distractions, no responsibilities, no interruptions. He made love to you two more times so that the only thing you could feel was him. He kept himself inside you as he wrapped you up in his body completely, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until you fell asleep. When the morning came, he woke you up with his head nestled between your thighs, chasing any lingering feelings of sadness away with his tongue until there was nothing left but pure gratification.

Talk your talk and go viral

I just need this love spiral

Get it off your chest

Get it off my desk

Things had been different after you and Frank got back from your trip. They were so subtle, he wasn’t entirely convinced he wasn’t going crazy and imagining things that weren’t there. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was, but something was different. Something was off. He could feel it.

There was a dissonance between the two of you. Frank noticed you had become a little distant, withdrawing into yourself at times. Of course he had no room to speak, he had been guilty of doing that on several occasions. He figured you might have been going through something and needed your space until you were ready to talk about it. So, he did what you always did with him. He was patient, provided reassurance of his presence both verbally and with gestures, and gave you the space you needed.

But then a month went by, and you still hadn’t said anything. He tried to be as patient as you had been with him, but it was never his virtue. It was driving him absolutely mad trying to put together this puzzle when all the pieces were locked away in your mind. Anyone else observing you wouldn’t be able to tell you were acting differently, not even the ones that knew you. But no one knew you quite like Frank. He noticed everything about you. He saw the way your smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes like they normally did. He heard the detachment in your voice when he asked you about your day. He hadn’t felt the warmth of your touch in a month. Every time he managed to make it home at a decent hour, you weren’t there. You had been spending more nights at work, making up excuses about a big project with a strict deadline. But Frank knew better. He knew you were avoiding him. He just couldn’t figure out why.

He replayed the entire trip in his head over and over again, searching for anything out of place that would explain your behavior. The only thing Frank could think of was your last night at the cabin when you had gotten emotional about leaving. Frank analyzed every piece of that conversation. He thought he had done everything right that night by telling you everything that you needed to hear to put your mind at ease, and making a promise to dedicate more time together. But if more time together was what you wanted, why were you pulling away?

Frank couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t be as patient as you. Something was wrong, and the uncertainty was driving him fucking crazy. He managed to easily find a way into your building, a concern he would discuss with you at a later time, and was barreling towards your office. The space was dark and quiet, seemingly empty, but he could see the light on through your window. Frank shut and locked the door as soon as he stepped through, barricading the door with his large frame. There was nowhere for you to run. The only way out was through him, and he wasn’t letting you leave until you talked to him.

“Frank? What are you-”

“What’s goin’ on?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know what. You’ve been off since we got home. Now look…I’ve tried, alright? I’ve tried to give you space until you were ready to talk about whatever the hell this is, and ya’know be patient until you were ready to come to me…but you’re not comin’ to me. You’re hidin’ from me. Why?”

“I’m not hiding from you, Frank.”

“Yes you are. That’s why you’re here. That’s why you’ve been spendin’ almost every night here instead of at home with me. That’s why you keep tryin’ to lie when we both know you’re fuckin’ terrible at it. Ya’know I thought…I thought we didn’t do that. I thought we agreed ya’know, no secrets. No lies. So…what is it?”

The silence in the room was deafening and nearly drowned out the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. For the first time in a very long time, Frank was fucking terrified. He had no idea what was going on with you. He had no idea what he had done wrong. He didn’t like the way your face twisted up in remorse and confusion. He hated that you wouldn’t look at him. He would’ve rather faced down the barrel of a loaded gun than whatever the fuck was about to happen right now. Frank took a step forward, his eyes darting back and forth fervently as he searched your face for something, anything. His voice was gentle and laced with pure vulnerability as he pleaded with you.

“Please just…please just talk to me. Please, sweetheart. Just…tell me what’s goin’ on. I can’t…I can’t fix it if you don’t tell me what the problem is. Please tell me.”

Frank watched closely as you rubbed your palms slowly down your face, looking anywhere but at him as you glanced around your office. You closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, and Frank’s fingers twitched at his sides in anxious anticipation.

“I don’t know what you want from me, Frank.”

Your words caught him completely off guard, and he blinked a few times as confusion settled between his dark brows.

“What?”

Crossing your arms over your chest, you finally lifted your head to meet Frank’s unrelenting gaze. You gave a light shrug of your shoulders as a tiny melancholic smile covered your lips.

“I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Frank I…I know you love me. I know that, okay. But…is that it?”

Frank cocked his head to the side slightly as he stared down at you. He could see that you were waiting for an answer, but he couldn’t figure out what the hell the question was.

“I’m not followin’, sweetheart. Is what it?”

“Is that all there is? I mean am I…am I it? Because you are Frank. You are it for me. I know what I want from you, but I have no idea if you want it too, or if you even want it at all. I don’t know what you want.”

“Sweetheart, what I want is you. Is that not clear?”

“Yeah but for how long, Frank?”

Frank stared at you silently, feeling completely lost within your riddle. He was trying his hardest to follow along, but a piece of the puzzle was still missing. You were still holding something back. He wasn’t sure if it was the same piece you withheld that last night at the cabin, but it was preventing him from being able to see the whole picture.

“What do you want?”

“Frank-”

“Say it. Whatever it is you been too scared to say, just say it. I’m not gonna understand until you tell me, so just get it off your chest.”

Hesitation flashed across your face, and he could practically feel the uneasiness radiating off of you. Frank watched as you caught your bottom lip between your teeth and took a few steps forward to gently pry it away with his thumb. He reached out to take one of your small hands in his, brushing his thumb lightly over the back of your knuckles before giving it a delicate reassuring squeeze.

“Talk to me.”

“I want a future, Frank. I want a future with you. I want everything with you.”

“You don’t think I want that?”

“I don’t know, Frank. You’ve never mentioned it, we’ve never talked about it. I don’t know what you really want. I know that I love you, and I want to be with you. Always. You’re it for me, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want a life together. I want…a family. Our family. I just…I don’t know if you want any of those things.”

It was your turn to be nervous as Frank stared down at you silently while processing your words. Once everything clicked in his brain, he felt like a fucking idiot. He had told everyone that he wanted a future with you. Everyone except you, apparently. He hadn’t told you that whenever he thought about his future, you were at the center of it. He hadn’t told you that you were it for him too. He hadn’t explained why he never mentioned marriage or starting a family to you. Hell, he hadn’t even stopped to consider if those were things you even wanted. Not once in the past year and a half had he bothered to ask.

You had tried to subtly give him a hint that last night at the cabin. Frank had a sudden epiphany as your words echoed in his head. I like being here with you, doing all these things together, feeling like I’m your…main priority. He knew you hadn’t meant to say priority, but it wasn’t until now that he realized what you were actually trying to say.

Your wife. Your partner. Your future.

“A family?”

“Yes, Frank. A family.”

The sincerity in your voice absolved any remaining apprehensions Frank had about making it all official. He could do this again. He could do it with you. He knew you didn’t need a piece of paper either to know how much he loved you, but if it made you feel more secure in your future together, he would do it. He would do anything for you. Frank shoved everything off of your desk quickly before lifting you by your hips to set you up on top of it. His hands were in the middle of pushing your dress up your thighs when you placed your palms against his chest and laughed nervously.

“Frank, what are you doing?”

“You want a baby sweetheart? I’ll give you one. Right now.”

“Frank-”

“You just tell me what kind of ring you want. You got it.”

“Frank I…I don’t…I didn’t mean right now. We don’t have to figure this all out right now. I just…wanted to know what you wanted. If…if you wanted a future with me too. I mean…I want you to want this too. I don’t want you to do it just because it’s what I want. If you-”

Frank cupped your face in his large hands and leaned in to kiss your lips softly. He sighed in content against your mouth, nuzzling his nose against your own. He pressed his forehead to yours as he started deeply down into your eyes.

“I love you. I love wakin’ up next to you. I love that you’re the last thing I see when I close my eyes at night. I wanna spend the rest of my life lovin’ you. Ya’know after Maria…I wasn’t sure I’d ever want to do any of that again. I wasn’t sure if I could. But if that’s what you want, then I want it too. We’ll figure it out together, yeah?”

“Really?”

“When you’re ready, I’m ready. I promise.”

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me

So real, I’m damned if I do give a damn what people say

No deal, the 1950s shit they want for me

I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

You and Frank were not a traditional couple. You never had been. There was nothing traditional or normal about your relationship, but neither one of you seemed to really care. Everything between the two of you had always happened exactly as it was supposed to. You did everything on your own terms, at your own pace, and only followed your own expectations that you two had established together. Now that you were both on the same page about your future together, you simply decided to let the rest of the pieces come together when it was their time.

Over the course of the next year, you and Frank only fell harder and more deeply in love. True to his word, Frank made sure that you two had some little getaway planned every three months. The walls of your home were filled with little snippets of your favorite memories from your trips together. There were even a few that Curt and David along with the rest of the Lieberman family had joined you on. You started your own holiday traditions of spending them with yours and Frank’s chosen family, and David’s kids were absolutely thrilled when you got Frank a puppy for Christmas last year. Frank had even let them have the honor of naming him which is how you ended up with an adorable big baby of a pit bull named Zeo, a combination of their names.

Life was so full for the two of you, it never felt like anything was missing. There were only more things you wanted to add to it. Frank eventually found himself at complete peace with the idea of becoming a husband and father again. There was no pressure of expectations or rush to catch up with anyone else. He had simply healed enough to make that choice of his own accord. Being your husband was what Frank genuinely wanted for himself. He wanted to be a complete unit with you; a team. For your three year anniversary, Frank took you back to that same cabin and proposed to you in front of the golden glow of the fireplace. A month later, you had a small intimate little ceremony at that beautiful spot by the lake you had found during your first exploration.

There was nothing traditional about it, but it was perfect. David got ordained and performed the ceremony, asking you three times if you were absolutely sure you wanted to be legally bound to Frank forever. Curt and Sarah stood by yours and Frank’s sides. Zach and Leo were the ring bearer and flower girl. You and Frank had even gotten Zeo a little bowtie for his collar. The “reception” took place at yours and Frank’s favorite diner in town. Instead of wedding cake, you two shoved apple pie in each other's faces. The celebrations continued at the bar across the street where you toasted with cheap wine and shots of tequila. Your first dance was to Can’t Take My Eyes Off You by Frankie Valli and The Four Seasons because it was the best choice on the jukebox. That night you and Frank made love more times than you could count.

A few months later when you both decided you were ready to start a family, you left it all up to chance. You weren’t actively trying, but you also weren’t using protection. Whenever it was meant to happen, it would. Seven months later you found out you were pregnant. The grin on Frank’s face when you told him the news was composed of pure happiness. Neither of you wanted to know what you were having until the baby was born, but you picked out names that you both absolutely loved either way. Frank was present for every big and little moment of your pregnancy. All the appointments, hearing the heartbeat for the first time, feeling the first little movements and kicks. All those little things and moments he had missed both times Maria was pregnant he was now getting to experience fully with you. He was there for every second of your labor, letting you grip his hand as tightly as you needed, getting you anything you wanted, showering you in praise and encouragement when it was time to push.

Frank sobbed proudly when he held his baby girl in his arms for the first time. He was in complete awe of the beautiful creature the two of you had created together in pure love. He still questioned relentlessly what he had done so right to deserve this life; this second chance. There were still so many moments he doubted whether he was deserving of happiness. But here he was, holding his happiness in his arms. His second chance. His future. Frank wanted to stay in this moment forever.

#frank castle #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x you #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle smut #the punisher fic #the punisher smut #curtis hoyle #david lieberman #sarah lieberman #karen page #dinah madani #brett mahoney

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dinahdoeeyes · 22 days ago

Text

See, my issue isn't that I hate fem!GB. (Well, I do, but I also hate pretty much every change they've made to StEx in the past 7 years.) My issue is with how differently the fandom treats fem!GB and original GB.

See, as a man, Greaseball is painted by this fandom as worse than Satan or some shit. But as a woman, that isn't the case at all.

Same with GreaseDinah. Greaseball is a man? Oh, he's an abusive monster and Dinah is a poor, trembling victim with Battered Woman Syndrome. (Not true at all, and it's disgustingly patronizing toward Dinah. ✨️ BELEVOLENT MISOGYNY! ✨️) Greaseball is a woman? "She's just stupid and insecure, she makes mistakes. She loves her girlfriend UWU. 🥺 THE GIRLIES! 🫶"

As soon as we learned that Greaseball would be a woman is this new production, I knew this would happen. I immediately knew the fandom would switch their opinions of GB and GreaseDinah when viewing Greaseball as a woman. And my instinct was correct.

#I SAID WHAT I SAID. 👇🏽#“M/F relationships are inherently abusive but F/F and M/M relationships never are!” You guys are so fucking stupid. 🙄#(YES people in this fandom have said that shit. 🙃)#greaseball the diesel #greaseball x dinah #greasedinah #starlight express #stex #stex 2024 #stex fandom bs #rant #txt

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somewherefornow · 1 year ago

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#‘I forgave you the moment I saw you’ 🥺#dinah lance #oliver queen #oliver x dinah #batgirl and the birds of prey #dinahollie #*panelsandpages

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reaperlight · 1 year ago

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Stephanie: So Cass, how's it going with your mom?

Cassandra: Amazing, actually. Just last week she took me shopping. It was really fun!

Stephanie: I meant your bio-mom, Cass. Not Dinah's mom.

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starlight-lesbians · 2 months ago

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gb being a soft drunk? getting home from celebrating the latest win and dinahs expecting her to be loud and annoying but she’s pretty timid and affectionate?

a/n: wait this is precious 🥲🥲

Cuddly Greasey

sfw, warnings: alcohol use, i think that’s it

Dinah wasn’t feeling up to tonight’s post-win party, she was tired out from the race and wanted to make herself a nice meal. She encouraged Greaseball to stay and celebrate her win, and promised she’d save her some food.

Greaseball didn’t need much convincing, still on a high from the race. She kissed Dinah goodbye and let her go on her way, happy about the promise of her girlfriend’s cooking.

Later in the night, Dinah had made some food and tucked herself into the couch to watch some cooking shows when Greaseball stumbled in the door, seemingly trying to shut the door quietly.

She scanned the room once she was in and caught sight of Dinah bundled up in a soft blanket, “Hey baby, feelin’ better?” Greaseball rolled into the living room with her and crouched down clumsily next to the sofa, an oddly soft smile on her face.

Dinah, quite pleased with how sweet she was being, leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek, “Yeah, I’m all better honey, how was the party? There’s some food for you in the fridge.”

Greaseball grinned, “Party was great, missed you though, stuff’s always more fun when you’re there.” She seemed almost giddy about the quick kiss, only slurring her words a little, “For lil ol’ me? Thanks baby!” Pressing a kiss to Dinah’s lips, she stood up and made for the kitchen to heat up the food, not wanting Dinah to trouble herself getting up.

Dinah was still kind of baffled by how sweet and gentle Greaseball was being, maybe alcohol just really mellowed her out. Either way she certainly wasn’t complaining about all this extra sweetness, “Do you wanna watch Bake Off with me? I’m just starting a new season so you’ll know what’s going on.”

“Sure dollface! Be out there in a second.”

There it was again! No resistance to watching her cooking shows, no eye rolls, none of it, it was like someone had taken over her girlfriend’s body. Logically, Dinah knew alcohol made you act on feelings you already have, so Greaseball likely just felt for her like this and didn’t know how to express it sober.

Greaseball came out of the kitchen and sat down on the couch next to her, putting an arm around Dinah to pull her in close, “So what are they makin’ pretty lady?”

Dinah laughed, leaning into her girlfriend and enjoying her warmth, “Fruit tarts right now, I might make some soon.” She’d been workshopping recipes for them for weeks prior and was almost ready to make a solid batch

Excitement came over Greasey’s face, she loved when Dinah tried new recipes, though normally she kept her mouth shut about it because…well she couldn’t remember the reason, that was a bit silly, “Can I,,be there when you do?”

“Of course, is it because you want to taste test?” Dinah giggled, Greaseball seemed almost shy to ask her, cute. “Because you know that job’s reserved for you, muffin.”

“…Yeah, your baking is just so good! It’s worth breaking my diet for like…a million times.” Greaseball slurred a bit through the sentence, smiling fondly down at Dinah,

“You’re sooo pretty, baby.” Her eyes were full of wonder, staring at the coach in her arms, “so good to me too, I don’t deserve it…”

Dinah startled at those words, Greaseball never said things like that. She had voiced that she was glad for Dinah’s forgiveness, but she had Never claimed she didn’t deserve it, “Well, I don’t know if that’s true, honey, i think you do.” She hoped that was the end of that discussion, she’d prefer to do that one sober.

“I love you, Dinah.” The words were mumbled into her shoulder, but Dinah lit up, “I love you too, Greaseball.”

Greasey’s eyes went wide with happiness as she tugged Dinah in for a kiss, scooping the smaller coach into her lap as she did so, “I love kissing you, you taste really good.” She had barely pulled away from the kiss to speak, and she crashed back in for another as soon as she was done

They cuddled and kissed through at least three episodes of Bake Off, just happy being in each other’s presence. Greasey was starting to sober up, which meant she was feeling a little less open about her feelings, but knowing she got some things off her chest was helping.

Dinah had fallen asleep snuggled into her, and she practically melted into a puddle looking at her, so cozy against her engine, “I love you dollie.” Greaseball whispered, grinning while she pressed a kiss to her head and started dozing off as well, alcohol usually kept her awake, but a sleepy Dinah was like a sleeping pill, except far more snuggly.

They slept curled around each other, Bake Off still playing on the television. Greasey would probably be complaining about her neck in the morning, but right now she was so content it was evident even in her sleep.

#this is either really good or really bad…either way cute enjoy #im treating this as a first real i love you from greaseybabe #starlight express london 2024 #starlight express #stex #dinah the dining car #greaseball the diesel #rory rambles! 💕#greasedinah #dinah starlight express #greaseball and dinah #dinah x greaseball

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sharpfamily · 1 year ago

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Per Aspera Ad Astra

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

word count: 9.4 k

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

July 1st 1881

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He recognized the footsteps instantly and pocketed his wand.

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

Dinah bloody Hecat.

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

"You look like hell."

"Lovely to see you too."

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

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

“Mum sent you, didn’t she."

It wasn't a question.

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

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

“It’s your birthday, Aesop”

“Why does that even ma-“

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

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

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

"Dinah-"

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

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

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

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

"I… it's been a few days."

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

"I think I can manage."

“Good."

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Still only cream in your tea?”

“Of course”

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

“These require your immediate attention”

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

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

“No time like the present, Aesop.”

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

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

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

“It would appear so”

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

Dinah placed her hand on his

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did so much more than that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you for being here today."

July 1st 1893

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Aesop was done with missing out.

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

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

Aesop very much wanted to.

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

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

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

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

"You are already spoiling me rotten!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

July 1st 1908

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Aesop I-"

"Hmmm"

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

CLANG!

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

"I should go investigate that."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is he still asleep, Mum?"

His wife whispered

"Still sound asleep, dear."

"Brilliant!"

"Shhhhhh"

Eleazar lowered his voice

"Right. Quiet"

"Let's get downstairs"

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

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

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

“He’s still sleeping”

“Shhhhh”

“Wait, no we need to wake him up!”

“I can do it!”

“Alright dear but be gentle”

“Okay Mum”

“Thedodore don’t jump on-”

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

“Hmphhh”

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!”

“My birthday isn’t until next week Theodore”

The boy stood up and looked at his mother in confusion

“He’s just pulling your leg, dear”

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

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

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

Maggie approached her father with a tray.

“We made you breakfast in bed!”

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

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

“That’s wonderful Maggs.”

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

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

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

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

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

The boy beamed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They can take care of themselves… mostly.”

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

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

“Only the children?”

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

“I think that can be arranged.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wonder what happened then”

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

“SIXTY!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You cheat!”

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

“I’ll be claiming that kiss now”

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

“As you wish”

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

“Thank you.”

“Whatever for?”

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

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

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

Fin.

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

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

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thetaleofhennessyrose · 11 months ago

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didn't plan to go this hard but i guess i did ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

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to-thelakes · 7 months ago

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DINAH MADANI (x fem!reader)

^ - fluff / * - smut

ONE-SHOTS

the missed dinner date

#dinah madani x reader #dinah madani x you #the punisher #dinah madani #masterlist #reader-insert #reader insert #x reader #dinah madani fic #dinah madani fluff

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aesopsharpmybeloved · 1 year ago

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A Night To Remember

The term-end ball reveals a few new facts. For one, Aesop Sharp is a delightful dancer, and for two, he's in for the long run.

I would be desperately lost without my amazing consultant and partner in crime @tea-withjamandbread who gave me several wonderful ideas to use in this work 💕

A Night To Remember (11.3k words)

tw: suggestive themes (heavily implied), teacher-student relationship (reader is an adult)

Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black was disliked by a large number of students and staff alike for many reasons. However, his end-of-term balls weren’t one of them.

Not that the headmaster held them out of the goodness of his heart. For him, they were a way to show off in front of the Board of Governors and important people he managed to silver-tongue into attending, and therefore the rest of wizarding Britain, that Hogwarts was a place of high class and culture. Despite the mud- despite there being students from less prestigious families.

Of course, he couldn't concern himself with such trivial matters as planning, he had his important headmaster duties! Therefore, this responsibility fell, once more, at the deputy Headmistress' feet. Matilda Weasley took it in her stride however, gathered a number of the more creative and sensible students, and went to town on the planning.

And, of course, once the esteemed guests of Headmaster Black arrived, the man himsef gladly accepted all of the praise as if it was he who decorated the entire Great Hall all by himself.

Despite their idiotic Headmaster, however, everyone involved in actually making the ball a reality was looking forward to the evening. Seventh years in particular were very emotional about it, as only a few days after the ball, they'd board the Hogwarts Express for the very last time.

Well, almost all of them. You were planning no such thing as getting aboard the train.

—

“I see you’ve been busy,” said Aesop quietly behind you as you hung another flashy garland of little golden snitches that were quietly buzzing and flying around an invisible orbit in various directions upon one of the beams of the Great Hall. You smiled when you felt his presence, resisting the urge to immediately turn around and kiss him hello - after all, you weren’t alone in the large room, some of your friends and other classmates were currently doing their best to transform it into a perfect space for a ball as well.

Truth be told, a lot of people knew by now, and those who didn’t know explicitly absolutely heard the rumours about their potions master and a seventh-year Ravenclaw keeping a secret relationship. Some even referred to it as ‘Hogwarts’ worst kept secret’. The only person whom neither of you wanted to find out was Black, as he’d surely be an arse about it, worrying about you ‘tarnishing the image of the school, and therefore HIM as well’. Luckily, Black was about as perceptive as a patch of moss, so you were quite safe, really.

One time he nearly caught the two of you. You were in Aesop’s office, playing your favourite little game of seduction, trying to see which one of you would crack first under the relentless flirting and teasing. Well, Aesop was currently leaning against the shelf behind you, so close you felt the heat radiating off his tall body as it cornered you, so close you felt his hot breath on your face as he made promises about what he was going to do to you once the door of his chambers closed behind you two when you heard the sound of the door opening. Ever the quick thinker, Aesop took hold of a jar of ingredients next to your head before swiftly moving back into an acceptable distance.

“I do not do this often, Miss (L/N), you best be ready in your next class with me. I will want the-” he quickly actually checked the contents of the jar, “those pickled shrivelfig fruits back.” He then turned around to face whoever he was going to hex into next week for disturbing him like this without showing the basic human decency of knocking before entering. Headmaster Black. Aesop momentarily entertained the fantasy of casting a jelly-leg jinx on the pretentious prick and wiping his memory afterwards but managed to hold himself back.

The Headmaster looked like he didn’t just see one of his employees and the student ‘who caused him so much trouble since the day she entered the castle’ pressed almost body to body and a second away from a ferocious kiss, buying Aesop’s ruse instantly.

“Sharp! I need to speak to you about a few potions I need you to brew,” Black said in his pompous accent, puffing his chest out and standing with all the straightness of a man with a broomstick up his rear. Neither of you moved, but you could hear the tiniest of sighs leaving Aesop’s lips.

“Of course, sir,” he said, his voice much more pleasant than the storm inside of his eyes. If looks could set someone’s beard on fire, the Headmaster would be in dire need of Aguamenti. There were several seconds of pregnant silence before Black spoke again: “Are you positively daft, girl? I want to speak to your professor in private, you’ve got the ingredient you were too dull to get yourself, you may be gone now. Have you not your studies to attend to?”

“Of course, professor,” you spoke, your voice completely unbothered, almost bored, as if he didn’t just attempt to insult you, and you walked to the door, head held high. Before you closed the door behind yourself, however, you caught Aesop’s eyes. Black had his back to you, so you stuck your tongue out at him and grinned. Aesop did not react outwardly, but you could see the amused little glint in his dark eyes.

“A knut for your thoughts,” said a melodic baritone behind you, automatically making your face spread into a smile. “Thinking about Black,” you admitted and watched in amusement as Aesop walked into your field of view to give you a slightly concerned expression. “Imagining him falling into a cart of dragon dung I hope, else I cannot explain you smiling.” The smile turned into a full grin: “Something like that.”

He watched you work for a bit, lending a helping hand once or twice. “Hope I have not forgotten how to dance entirely… It's been a few years,” he said casually, leaning against a wall and watching your classmates go about their tasks with mild interest. Feeling cheeky, you decided to toy with him a little.

“Oh, will you be dancing? With whom?” you asked in a cheery conversational tone. Instantly, you could very nearly hear the gears and cogs in his head begin to turn, trying to figure out just what you were playing at. Your back was turned to him, so you could grin mischievously to your heart's content. After a few moments, he finally spoke: “Whom will you be dancing with?”

You turned around and put your forefinger to your chin. With a slightly tilted head, pursed lips, and eyes turned towards the ceiling, you were the perfect exaggeration of a person lost in thought. “Hmm,” you murmured, “oh, I don’t know. No one’s asked me to be their date for the ball.”

It dawned on Aesop then, that despite the two of you being in a romantic relationship for half a year now, spending a lot of time with one another and sharing a bed more often than not these days, he never actually asked you to accompany him to the ball.

He did ask Dinah whether she thought a teacher could even accompany a student as a date to the ball, as he wasn’t able to gather enough nerve to actually ask Matilda who was sure to know. Well, Dinah’s ‘Who cares? She’s an adult, she’s done with exams, and besides everyone will be too busy trying to sneak in booze, or trying to sneak away with their date.’ was as good an answer as any. So Aesop let it be, automatically presuming they’d be going together. A bit of a shortcoming on his part, that he could admit.

“Oh my,” he said in a low voice filled with amusement, “rather a cad, aren’t I? Making you wait so long for an invitation. Shall I take an example out of your classmates, and serenade my invitation to you in the Transfiguration courtyard? Or perhaps leave a rhymed note and a dozen roses at your usual place at the Ravenclaw table?” Resisting an urge to chuckle, you thought some more. “Now, those are very tempting indeed, however, I think I’d prefer you to carry me off the Astronomy tower on a Hippogriff's back,” you said then, a cheeky smile on your face.

“Astronomy tower you say? Hmm… Quite an interesting suggestion, I give you that. Well, I think I’ll take a chance and ask you like a normal human being now and hope for the best. Will you accompany me to this silly little night-do?”

After a few seconds of silence, during which you appeared to be very deep in thought, complete with occasional murmuring, you decided to quit teasing him. For now. “How could I ever say no to the esteemed potions master of Hogwarts?” The look you gave him then was one of devotion. It was the essence of a kiss, of a lingering embrace, disguised as a tilt of the head, a slow blink of your eyes, and a content smile. And what do you get in return? That rare grin of his, the impish curl of his lips that your classmates got to see only a few times during their years as his students. It was so familiar to you now, and still, every time you saw it felt like the first.

“(F/N)! A little help here please?” came Samantha Dale’s voice from somewhere near the High table. You gave your lover one last smile before turning around to go to your housemate's aid, but a large hand grabbed at your bicep gently and you stopped in your tracks.

“Come see me after dinner? We could take a bath, maybe have some fun…” asked Aesop quietly, a brilliant sparkle to his large dark eyes.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Ace.”

—

The day of the ball passed in a flurry of robes and gowns. Students were nearly buzzing in anticipation since early morning, many of them not talking about anything other than the upcoming event. Some ate barely any breakfast and lunch, simply because they wanted to have space in their bellies for the fantastic food that was bound to be on the ball. Well, that, and many were simply too anxious to stomach anything. Funnily, a few individuals seemed to be in a worse state than they were before the end-of-term exams, OWLs and even NEWTs. Amit, in particular, looked paler than he looked after your little goblin mine adventure when Adelaide told him the 7th years were to lead the opening dance of the evening. Poor lad.

To be entirely honest, you weren’t completely calm yourself. While you weren’t bowing before the toilet bowl or having a mental breakdown because a pimple chose to appear on your forehead at such inopportune time, there was a fluttering in your belly whenever you imagined yourself in a few hours, holding onto your sweetheart in front of the whole school, swaying with him to the music. Goodness…

You’ve never danced with him before. Come to think of it, you haven’t danced since Professor Fig came to announce to you and your parents that you were a witch… You weren’t exactly worried about having forgotten the moves - after all, your parents made your dancing instructor make sure you’d be able to perform flawless waltz right after being woken up at three in the morning but… what if wizards danced differently?

Merlin’s beard!

You didn’t think about that at all! Stupid, stupid! What if you embarrass yourself in front of Aesop… heavens, what if you embarrass him in front of everyone? The thought filled you with dread.

It was so strange - you only ever enjoyed the dance lessons when you were younger as they allowed you to have at least some fun among the otherwise dull lessons in etiquette and mildly interesting classes taught in a way more boring than those of Professor Binns. Back then you wouldn’t give a rat’s arse about embarrassing either yourself or your parents when it finally came to your dreaded debutante ball, but this… This felt different. It was different. You weren’t getting dragged among the snobs of England’s high society to show potential suitors that you were fair game now.

No… This was an evening you were going to spend celebrating your studies, the friendships you’ve made, and the adventures you had while studying at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And you were going to do so not being displayed as a pretty little plaything available for the highest bidder, but by the side of a man to whom you already belonged. Whom you loved. Who knew that you were a living breathing woman and not a decoration for his home or his family tree. So of course you didn’t want to embarrass him…

However, the more you thought about it, the more the idea of Aesop resenting you for embarrassing him on the dancefloor seemed ridiculous to you.

After all, It was Aesop Sharp.

You were observing your reflection anxiously. You made an honest effort to look your absolute best - your hair was done elegantly and fashionably, your eyebrows were neat and tidy, there was a blush to your cheeks and you put some light lip rouge on your mouth. Your features were only slightly enhanced but still looked gentle and natural. You chose a dark blue gown with dark lace and silver details. Not too huge, not too frilly, short-sleeved, and surprisingly quite comfortable. Your earrings went well with the dress and your shoes were enchanted with a cushioning charm, making them feel like plush slippers.

All in all, you thought you looked quite beautiful… You only hoped your sweetheart would be of a similar opinion.

You were to meet him at the very bottom of the Ravenclaw tower, which was to walk to the Great Hall via the Viaduct bridge, as opposed to using the Moving staircase and risking breaking your leg on one of the disappearing steps. They were quite easy to jump over when you were wearing your uniform, but your current ensemble wasn’t really made for skipping over gaps in a staircase.

You met Amit just as he seemed to consider whether to open the door of the Ravenclaw common room or rather run to his dorm. You gently laid your hand on his shoulder, prompting him to startle and turn around to face you. “(F-F/N)!” he stuttered as his eyes took you in. “Y-you look… very beautiful.” You gave your classmate a smile: “You look quite handsome yourself.” It was the truth, the Head Boy looked very smart and charming in his dress robes, his soft features making him look like some sort of foreign prince. Though he’d look even better if he wasn’t constantly pulling at his sleeves or obsessively fixing his bowtie, making it even more askew each time. “Adelaide will think so too. I’m sure she’s very excited about the evening.”

Your two friends bonded over his fascination with goblins, and Adelaide becoming her uncle’s right hand in his metal trading business, therefore inevitably coming into contact with them. At the sound of her name, Amit froze momentarily.

“I-... I’m not sure if I should… What if I embarrass myself out there? Or, Merlin forbid, what if I embarrass her? What if I forget the moves, or step on her toes?”

And at that moment, it hit you. Everyone was worried about the same thing as you. And this knowledge, surprisingly, brought you peace. “Oh, come now, Amit,” you gave his shoulder a light pat, before stepping directly in front of him to fix his robes for him. “It’ll be alright. Really. You won’t forget the steps, because in the years I have known you, I’ve never once witnessed you forget something. And, well, if you do step on her toes, you’ll apologise and try not to do so again. You will hardly be the only person to do so… Poor Natty, her feet are going to hurt like the devil from how Sebastian will trample over them. People will only look at us for a little while, and then everyone will start dancing too, and it’ll be only Addie looking at you.”

Amit seemed to be taking in your words, not knowing that they brought you the same comfort as they did to him. He took several deep breaths. “Alright,” he said at last, “I… Thank you, (F/N). You’re right, it will be fine. After all… it is just a student ball and not a goblin mine filled with Ranrok’s loyalists, right?” His eyes twinkled in good humour as he spoke, a careful smile seeping into his expression. You grinned in reply: “Exactly! The thing you have to watch out for is neither a crossbow nor an axe, but rather Garreth attempting to spike the punch, or Everett throwing a Dungbomb to, heh, ‘lighten the atmosphere’.”

Amit chuckled: “You’re right… I should go meet Adelaide then, shouldn’t I?”

You walked a bit behind him after wishing him good luck, but unlike Amit who took off in the direction of Hufflepuff common room upon reaching the mezzanine floor, you walked further down the stairs, the Viaduct entrance slowly coming into view.

And there he was.

Your eyes instantly found him among the small crowd of students, a few couples, and several boys also waiting for their partners. Aesop stood to the side, looking slightly awkward, his expression unreadable as he waited. Your breath caught in your throat and your heart skipped a beat. You stopped in your tracks momentarily, swallowing heavily.

Aesop looked breathtaking. He always looked handsome, neat, and well put together with a roguish kind of aura, but this evening he was simply magnificent. His robes were obviously brand new and tailored to fit him perfectly. They hug his large, lean body perfectly, his considerable height even more obvious in the long black overcoat. His high leather boots were replaced with polished ballroom shoes and his tie with a dark green bowtie. His hair was neater and shinier, his stubble groomed to perfection.

Taking a deep breath to calm your wildly beating heart, you continued your descent down the stairs, your heels clicking against the stone steps softly. A few people noticed you, some stared for a bit, but you didn’t pay them any mind, your eyes boring into the single person there who mattered.

And then your gazes connected.

You saw his dark eyes widen and mouth open slightly as he took in a sudden breath. Feeling a flush enter your cheeks, you smiled and dropped your head for a second before looking up again. Aesop was walking towards you as if he was in a trance, his eyes not leaving you, barely even blinking. Closer now, you saw his awe in them, the astonishment, and your face got even warmer under his intense look.

You stopped three feet away from one another, neither of you speaking for a while, too busy committing this moment to your memory. “Hello,” you said finally, your voice slightly breathy, but your lips spreading into a smile. “Hello,” he repeated, his own voice low and raspy, his eyes still drinking you up thirstily. “Oh, sweetheart…” he said then, finally connecting your gaze again, “ you look… otherworldly stunning. Like a dream.” “So do you,” you whispered in reply.

“I… I’m having a lot of trouble resisting kissing you right now…” he admitted quietly, but instead of closing the distance and kissing your lips, he gently took hold of your hand and lifted it, bending himself in the waist to bring it to his lips. They felt deliciously soft and scorching against the tender skin of your knuckles. He pressed kiss after kiss onto your hand with utmost reverence, holding it with both of his now, like it was a precious fragile treasure. Finally, he straightened up again, his eyes positively shining in the viaduct entrance’s dull lighting. He then brought your hand to his right arm and began leading you to the heavy doors leading to the bridge, standing taller than you’ve ever seen him, his steps sure and his limp nowhere to be seen. It hit you then that he was feeling proud to walk with you by his side, holding onto him, and this knowledge was what made you feel weak in the knees, glad to be able to lean into him, your heart thumping loudly in your chest.

“Aesop?” you said softly as you unhurriedly made your way over the bridge. “What is it, my love?” he replied in that completely content tone you only ever heard at night as you were lying, spent and comfortable in each other’s embrace. “Do wizards… do wizards dance the same as muggles?” The professor thought for a while, the fingers of his left hand stroking along your own where they were curled around his arm.

“Oh. I entirely forgot that this is your first time attending…”

The ball was cancelled during your fifth year, as the school was recovering from Ranrok’s attack, not to mention grieving professor Fig. And last year, well… Last year the headmaster fell victim to a rather ill-tempered Chinese chomping cabbage on one of his rare visits to the Greenhouses. Actually, you were there to witness it, along with your classmates. You could see the majority of them balling their hands into fists and breathing deeply to keep themselves from bursting into laughter. The ever-collected Phineas Nigellus Black squealed like a little girl as the magical vegetable closed its fangs around his ankle. You were having very a hard time keeping your chuckles in as well.

Black kept trying to shake and kick it off, cursing loudly the whole time, but it was only Professor Garlick who finally managed to get the cabbage to loosen its grip on the man’s leg. There was a bit of blood, and the Headmaster had to be led to the Hospital wing, but you had no doubts the greatest injury was the one done to his pride. Black ended up with a two-week limp, and it was enough to get the ball cancelled.

That is, the official reason was that ‘The school simply doesn't have the resources this year, new books were bought, so were new chairs and desks for this and that classroom, not to mention the cost of Golden Snitches for the Quidditch matches. Simply enough, not a knut can be spared this year, condolences’, but everyone knew Black was simply too vain to be seen by his esteemed guests in anything else than perfect condition.

This was later confirmed by Aesop himself, during one of your back-then platonic meetings over tea. The potions master seemed to be fuming when you came in, and you immediately offered to come by later, but to your surprise, he asked you to stay and tell him about your day. As you did, you saw the tension in his shoulders slowly disappearing and saw him stop clenching his teeth. “Do you want to talk about what happened, sir?” you asked back then. “It’s nothing of importance, really,” he said, “just… Headmaster Black probably never heard the word ‘tact’ in his life.” The ex-auror proceeded to tell you that he was present in the room when Black told Professor Weasley about his intention to cancel the term-end ball. ‘Can you imagine the Board of Governors, not to mention former minister McPhail, witnessing me with a limp? How utmostly disgraceful and embarrassing!’ was basically what the Headmaster said.

“To be entirely honest, I felt a strong urge to hex our dear Headmaster. I surely hope you’ll keep this information to yourself,” Aesop finished by saying.

“I hope you’ll do the same, sir, upon me stating that I’d like to find the cabbage that took a bite out of him and put it into his bed.”

A little smile played on the potions master’s lips at your words.

In the end, there wasn’t a ball, but rather a little gathering of seventh years, sixth years, and a few teachers, over at The Three Broomsticks. Despite it not being the grand ball some older students kept going on and on about, it turned out to be a very pleasant and fun evening. There was no dancing, not sober ballroom one at least, but there was food, there were drinks, and there was the company of your friends. A pleasant and fun evening indeed.

Now, however, dancing was one of the key ingredients.

“Yes… It’s a shortcoming on my part, I spent all this time helping prepare for the ball that I didn’t for one second think the dancing may be different…”

“Hm… Do you know how to dance waltz?” Aesop asked after a while, just as you reached the viaduct courtyard, lit by quaint lanterns of various shapes and sizes. “Yes, of course!” you replied immediately, prompting your lover to chuckle shortly.

“You’ll be absolutely fine then. It’s quite similar, and you are a quick learner. And besides, I may have… practised a bit beforehand, just to sort of refresh the skill, and I’m fairly confident I’ll be able to lead you.” While your heart was still pounding, your nerves slightly lessened, and you found yourself leaning into him a little closer. Soon, the two of you entered the Great Hall, and while you were there for the vast majority of its preparation, your breath was still taken away by the sight which awaited you.

You've seen some nice-looking banquets and dinner parties, but a single second in the grand room managed to put all of them to utmost shame. The Great Hall appeared even greater than ever before, there were smaller tables set by the walls instead of the large tables for the four Hogwarts houses, and one larger, but not nearly as large as the High table that usually stood in its place. All throughout the hall were banquet tables with various nibbles and drinks, and it was there many of your classmates fluttered about the most currently.

The beauty of the room was nearly overwhelming. Yes, your fellow students and you did a fair bit of work, but it seemed many of the teachers then secretly contributed as well. You recognised Professor Ronen's handiwork within the sparks of various colours above all of your heads in intricate patterns, and of course, the floral decorations upon the tables were courtesy of Professor Garlick, not a single one of them the same as another. The enchanted ceiling seemed even more full of stars, and every few seconds, a constellation formed out of nothing, glimmering brightly.

"Everything looks so beautiful," you said just loud enough for Aesop to hear, "Everybody looks so beautiful…" You truly meant it. Everyone seemed to have done their best to appear neat and put together, the girls and women were dressed in beautiful gowns of all cuts and colours, and the gents looked so very smart and elegant. But none of them could hold a candle to Aesop. And by the way he was looking at you… "And you most of all," he said.

"So, do tell, are teachers required to attend?" You asked as you took the scenic route through the room, with you eagerly eyeing and admiring everything, and Aesop merely seeming glad to be able to walk with you and hold you. "It's greatly encouraged. That is, despite me being grumpier than a hungry wolf," you giggled softly, "I don't think I ever decided not to attend. The house elves outdo themselves when it comes to food on these balls, and it's after all one of the last chances to talk with the graduating students. And, if nothing else, I just kept an eye on them, chatting with my colleagues."

"So these little… amuse-bouches are just available throughout the evening, but there's also dinner?"

"Precisely. A variety of items to choose from, cooked to perfection."

"And then?"

"Then? Dancing. Mingling… after the younger students, fifth years and younger to be precise, leave, the rest can indulge in a little alcohol. That is, once the Headmaster and his esteemed guests have left as well."

Aesop pointed towards the larger table at the far end of the hall and, sure enough, Phineas Nigellus Black was currently sitting there, caught in a discussion with an older, pompous-looking gentleman, whose face you recognised from some picture in the Daily Prophet. "That's the chief of the Department of Magical Games and Sports," clarified Aesop, "no doubt the Headmaster's feeding him stories about how every faculty member except him insisted on Quidditch being cancelled two years ago."

You scoffed, but tore your eyes away, choosing instead to focus on more joyous matters at hand: "So. Shall we sit somewhere?" Aesop looked around the room: "Well… it would seem there are no free tables. We could always sit somewhere that has only first years and hope that I'll scare them away, or…?" You followed his gaze. It fell onto a table not far to your right. Only two spaces remained, as the others were filled by Professor Hecat, Professor Ronen with a beautiful plump older lady you presumed to be his wife, Professor Onai, and rather uncomfortable-looking Natty and Sebastian.

"Outnumbered," you pointed out with a cheeky grin, but nevertheless began walking towards the table.

"Good evening," you greeted politely, giving the company a smile. Natty and Sebastian looked unsure whether you were their salvation, or if the awkwardness was just about to get worse, but you still shortly squeezed each of their hands. The teachers, however, seemed to be in rather good spirits, welcoming the two of you warmly.

Aesop gentlemanly pulled out your chair, one next to Natty, and helped push it back after you've sat down, sitting down himself afterwards. There was a moment of quiet before Sebastian blurted out: "Y-you look… good. Your dress is nice." After your exchange before this very room half a year ago, things were a little awkward for a while, and they stayed that way until you let Sebast know just why it wasn't him for whom your heart beat. Surprisingly, he took the news quite well, and your friendship healed, piece by piece.

The look Natty gave you was one that made you blush, and you were very glad when a glass of wine materialised in front of you. But then - "Wait, didn't you say that alcohol was only, well, permitted, after the younger students left?" Instead of Aesop, however, it was Dinah who answered you: "Indeed. However, seeing as we've got you outnumbered, this is considered a teachers' table. And, as teachers, we've got a few advantages… or do you think we'd patiently wait through the Headmaster's speech and the following three hours of the young ones being all over the place without a single drop?"

You had to nod your head and chuckle. Looking to your left, you saw both of your friends also took the opportunity to taste their wine and possibly make an undoubtedly unorthodox situation feel more natural. You covered your mouth to hide your smile when Sebastian struggled to not stick out his tongue in distaste once he tasted the beverage.

It got a little easier after that - the company chose their dinner and you did so as well, pheasant breast with roasted potatoes and fresh vegetables. Delicious, but not overly heavy, the wine went with the meal amazingly.

After everyone was done with their dinner, and the Great Hall was once more overtaken by its usual noise of students and faculty alike talking amongst themselves, you were happy to find the atmosphere at your table much lighter than it was an hour ago. You even engaged in several conversations with your professors, their demeanour so much more relaxed than you've ever witnessed during classes. That is, except for Professor Ronen, as he was already very laid back and jovial even in settings much more professional than this one. What's more, he and Professor Hecat both knew of your and Aesop's romance quite early on and, if at all possible, were treating you even more warmly since then.

Then, Phineas Nigellus Black's voice cut through the air. "Your attention, please," he said. The Great Hall got progressively quieter and quieter until one could hear a pin drop. "Time has come to wrap up another successful year at Hogwarts. I am very glad that after two years, we were able to once more make this little celebration of ours a reality. Dear graduates, please accept my congratulations on your successful finish of your education here at Hogwarts, and my sincere gratitude to the staff for making it possible. I raise my goblet to you all, graduates, teachers, and students alike, and I wish you all a pleasant holiday, and of course, to you, seventh years, a successful start into your new lives."

The Headmaster's speech was not bad at all, but it was not nearly enough to erase your distaste for the man. "Written by Matilda, word for word," Aesop whispered into your ear helpfully. "However," the Headmaster continued, "this is, after all, a ball. Let us not embarrass ourselves in the company of our esteemed guests. So, whenever you're ready…"

"I think that's our cue," said Aesop, gently pulling you out of your seat.

You felt anxiety slowly creeping back into your gut as Aesop led you over to a spot on the dance floor he deemed acceptable for the two of you. Your legs suddenly felt like they were made out of lead, and you were panicking somewhat, looking around the room at your classmates. “Sweetheart, right here,” Aesop said, and though the room wasn’t quiet by any means, you heard his voice clearly over the white noise of people murmuring between themselves, the rustling of robes and gowns, the occasional squeak of shoes against the floor.

You raised your eyes to meet his, impossibly dark. “Just look me in the eyes, and let me lead you. It’ll be lovely, I promise.” You nodded and offered a little smile. “Alright. Just like a regular waltz, your left hand right … here, your right… There we go.” His right hand rested on your waist securely, the left one holding yours. You took a deep breath.

“Ehm! Well, let’s start, shall we? Music!” Headmaster Black’s shrill voice rang through the large room, and a few seconds later, dulcet tones of the orchestra began reverberating through the Great hall. You didn't even have time to ask where to step first when Aesop started moving, his hold on you so strong and steady, that you couldn't help but follow. "Two, three, four…" he counted just loud enough for you to hear, and you immediately found yourself connecting his words with the movements he was doing and making you do. "One, two, three, four, now change hands," you switched the positions of your hands, so he was now holding onto your left one.

With a few more changes like this, you began feeling more confident - it really was like a slightly extended version of waltz. While you were more than comfortable letting him lead, feeling all kinds of warm as he effortlessly made your body do his bidding, all the while looking majestic and elegant. "Now brace yourself," and with that, he grabbed onto your waist and lifted you into the air, spinning with you. You could faintly see the other girls being spun in the air, but just barely - Aesop had all of your attention. "See, you've got it, you're doing wonderfully," he said with a smile, never once ceasing your dance.

Before long, you span with him gladly, your feet synchronised with his flawlessly, your movements copying the rhythm of the music. Aesop swept you off your feet, and you loved it, you wanted to be swept away by him, swept, rocked, and spun. He was a mighty tidal wave and you were there to enjoy the ride. Soon, way too soon, you heard the song coming to an end, and Aesop finished your dance by elegantly returning to the starting position, settling just as the last note rang through the air.

Applause broke out around the Great Hall. "Very good, very good. Nice job seventh years … and their partners…" said Black from behind his podium, "the music will resume shortly."

"See, I told you it's going to be lovely," your sweetheart said with a pleased grin, "wasn't it?"

"It was, Merlin, it was amazing. But now that I know how amazingly you dance, I think I'll want to do that often…" you admitted letting your hands stroke his strong shoulders subconsciously.

"Hm, we've got the entire night. And the night after that. And the following one too."

And just like that, something inside of you snapped and you couldn't stop yourself anymore. Absolutely uncaring, you stood up on your tiptoes and captured his lips in a kiss.

It wasn't a long kiss, nor one too passionate, but it was thunderous nonetheless. You couldn't care less who could be watching, or what they would think. You loved this man with all of your heart, and you were done with being quiet about it. You looked into his eyes right after you pulled back to find them wide and dark, his mouth still slightly open. "Is that alright?" You asked carefully. Your reply was his arms around your waist and his hot lips on yours once more.

"It's more than alright."

A few hours, some more nibbles, and two butterbeers later, it was time for the younger students to retire to their common rooms, and only the seventh years and adult sixth years were allowed to remain. It was when teachers turned a blind eye to the consumption of alcohol, a few of them even sharing a drink with some of their soon-to-be former students. Aesop too was one of those who were sought out for this very reason. It was not at all surprising to see Garreth Weasley offering a tumbler of golden honey-coloured liquor to the potions master, the professor sniffing at it suspiciously.

“Come on, Professor Sharp,” Garreth laughed jovially, "I promise, it’s just good old Firewhisky, I have not done anything to it.”

“Then you won’t mind if I ask for the other glass you’re holding, will you?”

“Ever the Auror, eh? Heh, absolutely, there you go sir.”

Aesop clinked his glass against Garreth’s and took a careful sip. He rolled the liquid on his tongue for a bit, trying to catch a taste of anything other than the rich-smelling alcohol, but after he swallowed and felt no immediate consequences, he allowed himself to relax. Garreth meanwhile continued to chuckle as he threw back his own drink in a single gulp, hissing at the burn.

“Only a few more days to go, I’m not as dumb as to risk losing that E you gave me on my NEWTs essay.”

“You’re not stupid and never have been. Reckless and a thorn in my side, yes, but never stupid. You’ve got potential. Try not to blow yourself up into pieces before you can reach it, alright?”

Garreth looked like he was ready to punch the air in euphoria as the professor extended his right hand towards him, but instead, the ginger lad just gripped it tightly and shook it. “That was quite lovely,” you said with a smile once Garreth left you two alone once more, his mouth spread into a victorious grin. “Well, I do have my moments,” replied Aesop with a little smile of his own before taking a gentle hold of your own hand, “come on, let’s dance some more.”

And that was that.

You danced, you talked, you drank. You tried Firewhisky again, a different brand this time. It was sweeter than the one you tried on Christmas Eve, but still not something you could see yourself actively seeking out. Unless it was drunk off Aesop’s lips, of course. Then it was an entirely different story.

It was around Midnight when you started becoming quite tipsy. The party was in full swing around you, your classmates’ inhibitions were loosened under the influence of alcohol, and even the normally quiet ones were frivolously hoofing it off on the dance floor, laughing and talking excitedly among themselves. Even the often sullen Ominis Gaunt was chuckling as he, a little clumsily, spun Poppy Sweeting around, the alcoholic flush combined with the warmth of the room clearly evident upon his pale cheeks. Poppy didn’t seem to mind they were entirely out of rhythm, having the time of her life having fun with her human friends, instead of just the animal ones.

Amit was caught in an amicable discussion with Sebastian, obviously having had a bit too much, if the hiccoughs interrupting his impassioned monologue about Goblins and his consequent giggling was of any proof, but Sebastian still listened with interest, his view of Goblinkind having shifted considerably since his fifth year.

It was when you accidentally stepped on Aesop’s foot for the third time in the span of ten minutes, that you decided it was high time to take a little break and sober up a bit. You took several gulps of cold water before Aesop carefully led you away from the hustle and bustle of the Great Hall. Soon you found yourselves at the Quad courtyard. The air of the early summer night felt fresh and crisp, and a sweet flowery aroma was wafting through it gently.

The alcohol haze dissipated somewhat thanks to the water you drank and the cool air against your warmed skin, yet you remained feeling buzzed and giddy, hanging onto Aesop’s arm and happily engaging in cheeky conversation, letting him tease you and enjoying every minute of it. “Feeling better?” he asked as you once more entered the castle, taking a corridor that would slowly lead you back to the Great Hall. “Very much so,” you agreed with a smile, “although I wasn’t feeling really bad to begin with. Maybe a bit lightheaded at most, and that I blame on the dancer who spun me around again and again.

The professor’s dark chuckle was your only answer, the sound echoing off the stony walls. It felt nearly surreal how quiet the castle got at night. Hogwarts never got this quiet during the day, not even in the library, because of the omnipresence of its inhabitants, both living and not. This evening, however, it seemed like a powerful silencing charm was placed upon the large corridors, not even the sound of the ball nearby could be heard. In the still and the quiet, it felt like it was just the two of you, the sound of your hearts beating the only thing unafraid to penetrate the silence.

You startled a bit as your lover suddenly stopped walking, causing you to collide with him slightly. Raising your eyes, you observed him questioningly but found him not looking at you, but rather to your left. You turned your head.

Next to you on the wall was a full-body mirror, just large enough to capture the two of you in its reflection. Fully turned towards it now, you slowly pulled at his arm which you were still holding, motioning for it to curl around your waist, which it did. His other arm joined in, and soon you had Aesop’s strong chest pressed against your back, his chin and jaw gently brushing over the right side of your head.

To an untrained eye perhaps, the two of you could look like something of an odd couple. Despite all of Aesop’s handsomeness and rugged charm, it was very obvious he was considerably older than you. His face bore the lines of time, life lived before you were born, the scar on his cheek a testament to many adventures and dangers, during which you weren’t present, while the smooth, flushed apples of your cheeks stood in absolute contrast against it. As did your hands, which came to rest upon his own, the skin on them weathered and calloused. These hands held unimaginable strength, both physical and magical.

An odd couple? To some, perhaps.

But you knew better.

While Aesop was every bit as strong and tough as he looked, you knew that behind that roughened face and calloused hands was a gentle man, a kind soul, and an artistic spirit. Someone who dared to dream when he was younger, and someone who was just rediscovering his courage to do so again. And you? You weren’t pristine. You saw too much death and suffering in your young life, so much more than any person should ever see. You were put through challenges and dangers that would keep even wizards older and more experienced than yourself up at night.

And yet, here you were, two decidedly flawed odd birds standing in a heartfelt embrace, your connection one built upon mutual trust, respect, and an overwhelming amount of love.

You let your head fall back slightly to rest against his shoulder, revelling in his warmth. “I think we’re a rather charming couple,” you said at last. Odd? Maybe at first. But after a while, anyone would see your eyes, they would see that each other’s arms is exactly where the two of you belong.

“You know what… I’m rather inclined to agree. Although you're the one who brings about 95% of charm into the relationship,” he whispered against your ear, prompting you to grin. “I suppose we cannot agree on everything all the time,” you sighed, “and this is one of the instances.” His chuckle made you lightly shiver as his hot breath tickled the soft skin of your ear and neck: “Be that as it may, there was actually something else I wanted to do, and this mirror is just perfect for it.”

Slowly, his right hand slipped from your hold and disappeared into his dress robes’ inner breast pocket. When it reappeared, you saw something glisten brightly in it, but before you could question what it was, his other hand also left your waist and came up to grip the other end of it. You hissed when the cold metal touched your neck.

Aesop was delicately securing a beautiful necklace around your neck, and you felt like you forgot to breathe for a while. It was beautiful in its design, elegant, yet simple and light, adorned with a few vine-like twirls and several small opal stones. You couldn’t be certain, but you thought the material was goblin silver. It went beautifully with your earrings, and that’s when it truly hit. Aesop Sharp had this gorgeous piece of jewellery made specifically for you.

“A-Aesop!” you stammered, your cheeks burning and your eyes slowly watering, “I- I can’t possibly accept this, i-it’s way too valuable!” Your sweetheart finished fastening the necklace before leaning down to press a kiss against the nape of your neck. “Please,” he said in a voice so quiet, you almost couldn’t hear it, “I want you to have it… Do you like it?” You touched it delicately, slowly running your fingers over the cool material. “Oh, Aesop, it’s-... it’s the finest, most beautiful piece of jewellery I’ve ever seen, but you really shouldn't have spent what must’ve been quite a sum of money on me!”

His chapped lips made contact with the hot skin of your neck again, and again in a series of soft, tender kisses, his breath tickling at the peach fuzz there. “Trust me,” he spoke again, “when I say this is barely a fraction of what you deserve. You met me a half-broken man, who nearly made peace with the fact that love, health, and hope for the future is a thing of the past for him. You came into my life and shook it to its core. If anyone told me two years ago that tonight I’d be dancing with the most beautiful woman in the entire Wizarding world, completely in love, my leg cured and my dreams slowly being restored, I would’ve called them completely insane. And yet here we are. Believe me when I say you deserve this, and so much more. (F/N) (L/N), you deserve the world.”

Slowly dropping your eyes from the necklace, you turned around in his arms. A tear finally rolled over your eyelid and ran down your cheek as you looked deep into his eyes. You raised your hands to cup his cheeks, your fingers caressing the weathered, stubbled skin.

“I just want you,” you whispered, more tears falling from your eyes.

His much bigger hands came to enclose your own again.

“You’ve got me,” Aesop finally said with the faintest hint of a smile. In the next second, your arms were thrown around his neck, and your lips moulding with his in a passionate, earth-shattering kiss, one into which you attempted to pour all of your love and devotion for this wonderful man. “Thank you,” you sighed between kisses, the moisture of your tears staining his cheeks. His strong arms wrapped around your body securely, as if unwilling to let you go, which was something you didn’t mind at all.

Once you pulled slightly apart to catch your breaths, Aesop chuckled noiselessly, his breath cool on your hot damp lips. He lifted his hand to wipe away your tears and caress your face, his thumb sliding over the apple of your cheek, your jowl, your chin, finally stroking your lips, tracing their edge. “I must say, a half-drunken snog in the corridors during a term-end ball is also something I thought was a thing of the past,” he said, his voice low and raspy.

You couldn’t resist the small fit of giggles that overcame you then as you hid your burning face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar, heady scent, a mix of the sandalwood from his cologne, the faintest hint of Firewhisky, the soap he used, and underneath that the natural smell of his skin, warm and comforting with the smallest trace of sweat.

“Doesn’t need to be the only time, though,” he added, prompting you to murmur questioningly against his skin. “Professors can bring partners with them…”

“Are you inviting me to the term-end ball all the way next year?”

“Hm, too soon?”

“No… no, it’s alright, I gladly accept. I’m just so very happy.”

You didn’t have to say it for Aesop to understand - that you were happy he readily saw himself with you a year from now.

“Shall we head to your chambers then?” you asked after a short while, raising your head slightly to look at him. “If you’d like, of course,” he answered, his clever thumbs drawing circles onto your hips, “But I was thinking maybe one last dance? It is a special occasion, after all, it’d be a shame to waste it.” You couldn’t disagree with that.

On your way back to the Great Hall, you didn’t hold onto Aesop’s arm, as it was instead draped around your shoulders, tightly pressing you into his side as you walked. It was only when you arrived at the foreroom of the Great Hall that you began to hear the noise from inside. “Silencing charm - wouldn’t want to disturb the castle's various inhabitants, would we?” your sweetheart said, most likely noticing your curious expression.

Entering the room, now bathed in an intimately dim light, you noticed that a number of people had already left. Quite a few sixth years seemed to have retired for the night, same as professors. There was Professor Ronen sitting at one of the tables with his wife, while Professor Howin and Madam Kogava were sort of just lingering about, watching the progression of the evening, no doubt keeping an eye on potential trouble. Your classmates seemed to be in various stages of intoxication. Natty seemed like she only had a glass or two, seeing as she most likely waited for her mother to leave before finally allowing herself to party a little, while Sebastian, who was (unsuccessfully) trying to woo her seemed about a single butterbeer from being ready to leave lest he made a fool of himself.

Poor Amit’s fallen asleep already, but Adelaide didn’t seem to mind, her head resting on his shoulder and her eyes closing as well. Hopefully, someone from their respective houses will wake them up when the time comes to truly wrap up. You let Aesop lead you through the room and towards one of the walls to a slightly more remote spot, the song that was playing until now coming to its close.

Just like you did throughout the whole evening, you took your stance and waited for the next song to begin. And then, when it did, you let Aesop glide the two of you across the dancefloor, your movements slow and well-measured. The whole time you were looking into each other’s eyes, having a little conversation about absolutely everything and nothing, all without uttering a single word. Each time Aesop spun you, you ended a little closer to him, inch after inch, until your bodies were flush against each other in a display quite intimate, and possibly very inappropriate in public. Luckily, nobody seemed to either notice or care.

Both of Aesop’s arms wrapped around your waist as he swayed with you slowly, his head lowering until your foreheads connected, resting against each other. You closed your eyes, just letting the reality of the moment wash over you. You felt his every move before he made it, felt the subtle way his hips swayed with yours, and the two of you sharing a single breath was getting you more drunk than alcohol ever could. And despite the two of you not being alone in the room, it did feel like you were, shrouded in your little world, clinging onto each other ardently.

And when he unabashedly kissed you once more, you lost yourself completely. Your feet stopped their movements, and you simply stood there in your passionate embrace, drinking from each other’s lips. When his lips left yours and instead travelled over your cheek and to your ear, you readily responded to his movements, your fingers combing into his hair like they always did, and your mouth unconsciously releasing little gasps and sighs. The potions master dipped his head slightly, and soon his hot tongue began circling your pulse point.

Not a second later, the sensation was gone and your head began clearing up again. It would seem Aesop suddenly realised where he was, and how many people were still around you. He leaned closer again to whisper into your ear: “I think now is the time for us to retire. As much as I find your gown beautiful, I’d much rather see you without it now.” You chuckled in reply, your close proximity to your lover allowing you to feel just how much he meant what he said: “I was thinking the exact same thing.”

You extracted yourselves from one another, and Aesop led you towards the exit, slightly behind you so as not to draw too much attention to his little problem, despite the dim light surely preventing so. Once you were out of sight, you turned to make your way to the Viaduct courtyard once again, but Aesop instead gripped your shoulders and motioned for you to take the route up the Grand Staircase. “Wait,” you protested mildly, “I avoided the Grand Staircase on purpose, you know. I don’t want to fall or break my leg, especially now that I’ve had a few drinks!” Your sweetheart chuckled, still leading you: “Don’t you worry, I’ll be behind you every step of the way and will catch or support you if need be. Besides it’s the shortest way to my rooms…” He made his point by stopping momentarily to deliver another kiss to your neck, making you almost melt under his touch.

“Oh… oh, alright then…” you relented, “but Aesop Sharp, I swear on Merlin’s name, if I break my leg three days before graduation-”

“Then Noreen will fix you up with a quick spell and some Skele-Gro, and both you and she will have my guts for garters.”

“Precisely.”

“Come on, then,” Aesop said in a teasing voice, his hand coming to lightly slap at your behind, making you giggle. You gathered your gown in your hands and carefully walked up the first flight of stairs, Aesop right behind you.

But then: “Ah, good evening you two!” You stopped in your tracks like a deer in headlights. “Dinah…” you heard Aesop say behind you, his tone one of exasperation and mild annoyance. “So, have you enjoyed this fine evening? I must say, it was quite dull without it last year.” You were blushing like mad, not meeting the DADA teacher’s eyes. However, you could see that she was quite obviously having fun grilling the two of you. “Yes, yes, very lovely and very dull,” said Aesop impatiently, his hand moving to close around your own, “was there anything particular you needed?”

While the older woman’s face was as neutral as always, you could see her eyes positively sparkle with mischief: “Oh? Are you in a hurry?” Aesop groaned quietly next to you: “Rather yes.”

“What could be so urgent on such a fine evening?”

This time, Aesop did not answer, but his hand squeezed yours harder. After a few seconds of utter silence, Dinah broke out into a little chuckle: “I’m sorry Aesop, dear. Can’t blame an old woman for wanting to have some fun as well, and you, you are so very fun to tease.”

“You know, you could tease Abraham now and then as well?”

“About what? Abe makes fun of himself most of the time, there’s no challenge in that. But I’ll leave you to it now. Have a nice evening you two. Oh, and the staircase seems quite agreeable today, but you should still be careful.”

“Thank you, Di. Goodnight,” Aesop said then, his tone much softer now, and he once again began to lead you away. “Goodnight, professor,” you said quietly, still a little embarrassed from the encounter, but at the same time strangely amused by it.

The potions master did as he promised, his hand as if glued to your lower back supporting you as you carefully ascended the steps of the Grand Staircase. “Disappearing one over there,” he’d warn every now and then. Some time later, the two of you finally entered the Faculty tower, and you all but began a half-jog towards your lover's chambers while still trying to remain silent so as not to disturb anyone who might already be asleep in their rooms. The moment the door closed behind you, your back was pressed against it, and Aesop’s mouth latched itself onto your own in a hot messy kiss. His hands were everywhere at once, caressing and groping your body as his lips slowly slid to your neck.

The former auror pulled back somewhat, looking at the jewellery he placed around your neck earlier, before he dipped his head right back, placing tender kisses over the sensitive skin of your throat along the necklace. Your fingers went right back into his hair, nowhere near as neat as it was when you met him at the viaduct entrance hours ago. When his arms wrapped around your middle and he lifted you off the ground you attempted to curl your legs around his waist, but was soon stopped by the fabric of your gown.

“Don’t you worry, my sweet, I’ll get you out of this thing soon enough,” he said, a smug grin clear as day in his sultry voice.��

Aesop carried you over to his bedroom, however, before he could as much as sit you on the bed, you grabbed onto his shoulders, stopping him in his tracks. “Wait,” you chuckled, and he immediately set you back on your feet. He distangled himself from you and gently grabbed your face in his large calloused hands. “Are you alright? Too fast?” he asked, and you could melt right on the spot. Even after all this time, he was ready to stop at the tiniest hint of you not being alright with what he was doing. “No, no, it’s wonderful,” you reassured him, kissing his lips slowly, “it’s just… Hah, if you want to get me out of this dress, it’s better if we’re standing. Trust me.”

A quiet chuckle escaped Aesop’s lips: “Oh, alright.” He extended a hand towards you, and you immediately took it without thinking. He gently spun you, just like he spun you the entire evening across the dance floor, except this time he stopped when your back was facing him. “Dear Miss,” he spoke, his tone teasing and playful, “prepare to be disrobed.”

However, disrobing you was easier said than done, and Aesop hadn’t anticipated the intricacies the unfastening on your ball gown would pose. At first, he tried to work methodically, but it was for nothing and he was soon tangled in the many strings, getting progressively frustrated. It took a lot of your willpower not to giggle.

“How in Merlin’s medieval buttocks did you even get into this thing?!” he asked after a while, fingers furiously trying to get the gown to open up, or loosen at the very least so that he could peel it off your form. “There are laces and ties, more laces, strings, even more laces, how do I even-... hold on, I think I’ve got it,” Aesop fiddled with the fastenings for several seconds, before groaning in irritation, “Damn it!” And that was it, you began giggling softly, covering your mouth with your hand. “Oi, don’t you laugh! Did you use your magic on this? Is that why I can’t untie it?”

“I didn’t,” you said between chuckles, “though Natty may have gone slightly overboard with making sure it’s all holding up nicely.”

“Holding up nicely, she says,” grumbled Aesop, still trying to pull at the strings and laces in vain, “I’d have better chances breaking into bloody Gringotts!

You just kept chuckling. The dress felt slightly looser, but not loose enough for you to wiggle out of it: “I say, love, we’ll both be so exhausted after you finish untying it, the only thing we’ll be doing in those sheets is sleeping!” The former Auror stopped his frustrated movements, and then his strong hands left your back entirely: “Oh, for Merlin’s saggy-”

However, before you had the chance to say anything:

“Diffindo!”

You yelped as you heard the fabric being swiftly cut in half, soon falling down from your body and pooling around your ankles.

“Oi!” you turned around to face him, a bewildered expression on your face.

“Sorry about that,” Aesop said then, his voice anything but remorseful. “I’ll have you know I thought that dress was really beautiful,” you replied with the tiniest hint of indignation in your voice. However, your amusement at him losing his temper with the garment greatly outweighed any hard feelings towards him effectively destroying it. “So do I.” he insisted, “Mind stepping out of them, dear?” You did as he asked and stepped out from the circle of crumpled fabric. With a wave of his wand, the gown rose from the floor and floated towards his wardrobe, fixing itself seamlessly along the way. Soon, it was neatly hanged and perfect once more.

“I think Miss Onai truly should pursue a career in Gringotts, she’d make the vaults completely impregnable…” Aesop commented dryly while you crossed your arms across your chest. “Are we going to talk about Natty and her talents for securing things, or…?”

Aesop once more turned his entire attention towards you, looking at you appreciatively. Now that your gown was finally dealt with, you remained there standing in just your chemise and petticoat. You saw the fire returning to Aesop’s gorgeous dark eyes, and a wolfish grin to his face. “I should be able to take these off without wasting any precious energy, “he murmured lowly before stepping closer. His nose glided along your cheek and your jaw as he effortlessly unfastened the petticoat and let it slide down your legs, leaving you in your beautiful, silken underwear. “So… do we still have to stand up, or shall we get a little more comfortable?” the potions master asked slyly.

You fixed him with a mock offended look: “You have your fun undressing me and now you think I’ll settle with you just tearing your own clothes off in a frenzied flurry? That just won’t do, sir…” Due to a stupid amount of luck, you were in a perfect position to gently shove against his chest. Was this any other situation and were you anyone else, Aesop wouldn’t even flinch at the movement. However, he only grinned more and obediently let himself fall down upon the bed, conveniently right behind him, waiting patiently for you to undoubtedly climb atop him.

And you didn’t plan to keep him waiting long.

—

The first birds began singing outside the window as the dark sky of the night outside slowly bled into shades of purple and pink, the summer sun shyly peeking from below the horizon signalling the arrival of a brand new day. For you and your lover, however, the previous day was only just ending now in a haze of heavy breaths and wildly beating hearts, bodies sated and satisfied, limbs still trembling under the weight of shared pleasures.

You were beautifully exhausted, brushing your fingers through your hair, slightly damp from perspiration. You and Aesop gave yourselves to one another completely tonight, unashamedly indulging in your hunger, your scorching passion, opening yourselves up for new things and new sensations, experimenting with new positions and ways to bring the other to the breaking point.

Your hair became once more dry and soft within your fingers as your sweetheart used the last of his strength to cast a cleaning charm on the two of you and the bed before weakly tossing the wand onto the chair standing next to his bed. He found his resting place on top of your body, his now positively shaggy hair spreading on your skin and tickling it tenderly as he laid his head upon your chest, his ear directly over your heart. You were completely trapped underneath him, his weight evenly distributed on your body making you feel comfortable and safe, his arms bore the promise of not letting you go. The skin on his back was slightly uneven and a little bruised from your fingernails digging into it, and the potions master replied in kind on your hips and legs.

Thank goodness seventh years were not expected to turn up for breakfast today (and lunch neither in many cases), as you knew you wouldn’t be able to get up from this bed for many hours. Not that you’d want to.

Waves of comfort and love were slowly rocking you to much-needed slumber.

However, Aesop’s voice brought you back a little. “Are you going to wear it?” he asked, voice soft and quiet, slightly raspy after your long night. His long digit stroked at your necklace delicately, occasionally moving to trace a path along your throat. “I might never take it off,” you replied honestly, looking down and seeking to connect your gazes. The potions master smiled, sincerely and genuinely, dark eyelashes fluttering softly in the dim light of coming morning and dying embers. He pulled himself up to connect your kiss-bruised lips once again, this time gently and tenderly, merely letting them brush, whispering soft ‘I love you’s in-between.

There in the early morning spent in the potions master’s comfortable bed, drinking his words of adoration, you were ready to face whatever the future may bring. As long as Aesop Sharp’s arms enfolded you in their embrace, you were ready for anything.

Hello, thank you very much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little story. As always, you can find this work and all of my other works over on AO3. I'll be very grateful for your feedback! 💖

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